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		<title>Nicolai | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/nickfinn</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Nicolai</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>V</title>
			<description>  &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 		&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Takinginventory and stocking the medicines usually calmed Gabe, but hecouldn't stop thinking about last Sunday, how embarrassed he feltafter what everybody at the church was calling a &quot;spiritualawakening mome..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/477690/</link>
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			<title>It Comes for Us All</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The bright light practically stunned him. He stepped back and covered his eyes with his free hand, the other across his chest, gripping at his heart. Just a wicked case of indigestion mos..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/472935/</link>
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			<title>Ghosts and Demons</title>
			<description> The wind batted the rain down on the house. The fire was the only thing giving off any light as he sat and read in the big chair. A crack of thunder roared across the sky, startling him. He chuckled nervously and thumbed to the next page. Jim was never one to be scared of such foolish t..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/472933/</link>
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			<title>Max</title>
			<description>It wasn&amp;rsquo;t until the smoke cleared that Max realized fully what he had done. She lie there on the floor, motionless. The bullet-hole in her midsection spewed forth a massive amount of blood, discoloring her clothes. It spilled onto the floor and gathered in pools. Her face was frozen in..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/471447/</link>
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			<title>Hockenberry, the Scholic of Illium</title>
			<description>based on Dan Simmons's &quot;Olympos&quot;</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/471007/</link>
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			<title>Refuse</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;Refuse&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I grew up just down the road from our cities refuse dump,&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;where it always smelled of decay and burning tires.&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Everything there once had a use, had offered someone&amp;nbsp; &amp;n..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/471005/</link>
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			<title>Keeping Up</title>
			<description>     &amp;nbsp;Keeping upWhen I was five years old or so, I begged my dadto build us a fort in our backyard. What kid doesn'tharbor fantasies of fighting off pirates and pillagersfrom behind the walls of indestructible yellow pine?Caving in to my incessant pleading, my da..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/471004/</link>
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			<title>In the Face of Armageddon</title>
			<description>based on Alan Moore's &quot;Watchmen&quot;</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/471002/</link>
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			<title>Teeth</title>
			<description> &amp;nbsp;TeethThey sit in rows, not quite the pearlywhite of childhood or abrasive cleaning.In my dreams they are loose in the socket.Not content to leave them alone, I prod,wiggle, and wrench them, bleeding, fromtheir fleshy nests. Or by some unseen,mysterious forc..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470999/</link>
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			<title>Carousel</title>
			<description> &amp;nbsp;CarouselLike a carousel, horses impaled on a round-table, spinningforever, my thoughts turn on me. To every mistake I'veever made; who I have upset, stupid thingsI've said, all replaying, exemplifying myfailings and faults. I think about whatwas said, what ha..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470997/</link>
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			<title>IV</title>
			<description> -IV-&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Raymond ran outside through the double-paned French doors, kicking at the mini sculpture of David as he lumbered to his treehouse. His mom loved the statue. She had bought it at the civic expocenter ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470970/</link>
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			<title>III</title>
			<description> -III-&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The pews were uncomfortable. Several compacted pieces of cheap plywood serve as the seat with trusses at five foot intervals to accommodate the more girthy of churchgoers. Fat people didn't outright bother Gabe Atherton, but he ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470956/</link>
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			<title>II</title>
			<description>   -II-&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The tree house was in the Pimbertons' backyard where it was concealed from the facing street by the dull-gray privacy fence that was starting to splinter. The little box sat fifteen or so feet up, nestled in the sprawling branc..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470955/</link>
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			<title>I</title>
			<description> The Angel in my Backyard-I-&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was in a deep auburn sea which washed around him, enveloping him and his senses, suspended. Individual strands of color caressed his face and body, warming his naked skin. The sea creased in front of h..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470954/</link>
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			<title>The Angel in my Backyard</title>
			<description>A story about a delusional churchgoer.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nickfinn/470953/</link>
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