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Steve Wing 

  • Vagabond
  • Vagabond

    Short Fiction Contest 2012 - Runner Up
      Steve Wing’s tale about the mysterious routine and ambiguous end of one family’s patriarch.
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  • The Butterfly Effect
  • The Butterfly Effect

    Reflecting on life, death and Lepidoptera as summer fades.
      By August, they were swirling around the local Ponderosas like light, highly localized flurries of snow. There didn’t seem to be a pattern; they traced trails as seemingly random as that of a drunk around a lamppost. A mating dance? I wondered. If it was, I had yet to see consummations (though these might not have been public events).
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  • What's in a Name?
  • What's in a Name?

    If our names reflect the times we live in, what will we call the children of the Great Recession?
      To get a name with the resonance of “God’s Gift,” you have to go back to the Puritans, who gave us Faith-My-Joy as well as the somewhat grimmer names of Tribulation, Dust and Job-Raked-Out-of-the-Ashes. I find Stand-Fast- On-High more inspiring, though I don’t think I quite understand the significance of More-Fruit.
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  • Running Through Winter
  • Running Through Winter

    A local writer meditates on traction, beard frost and stoking the inner furnace.
      You do have to be careful. A simple frost promises texture, but a glaze on the ground that can scarce hold a gleam might throw you down. Snow complicates things. Melting, too. And refreezing, and then maybe snow again.
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  • Living Better Electrically
  • Living Better Electrically

    They had killer apps back in the '50s, too. Even in Montana.
      We were the first family in Montana to have television. There are those perhaps in a better position to know — my mother, for instance — to whom this claim is suspect, but consider: Montana didn’t have broadcast television until KXLF (at the time, sister station of Spokane’s KXLY) went on the air in Butte in August 1953.
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  • Accounted For
  • Accounted For

    For census takers, there’s a bit of schooling involved in learning how to count everybody.
      It was odd to be back in the classroom after dozens of years away from school. The oddest part, at first, may have been the familiarity. Just as in the old days, there was the usual mix of types: the cut-ups and suck-ups, the know-it-alls and drones, even a dolt or two.
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  • On Reading
  • On Reading

    Some people say life is the thing, but I prefer reading.
      There are actually two inter-braided waves of projected change being contemplated here, though. The first is the tsunami of the glitzy, clickety, hyper-hopping, social-mediated life that will inundate everything in its path until at last the silicon networks have permanently melded themselves with our vitreous humors.
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  • What's for Dinner?
  • What's for Dinner?

    We’re thinking more and more about the food we eat, but are we coming to any conclusions?
      Gods can eat whatever they like without ever getting full.— Tom Disch What’s for dinner, then? Could be anything. Plenty of people eat bugs. In urban legend, people eat live monkey br
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  • Talking Dirty
  • Talking Dirty

    Profanity’s become so commonplace. Instead, save it for special occasions — and then let the whoreson scalawags really have it.
      In second grade, Sister Rose Catherine explained that a bad word was more than just bad. A bad word, she told us, is an actual thorn piercing the sweet fl esh of Jesus. Well, I took this one to heart. When at recess a boy named Mike started spewing terrible words all over the place, I actually grabbed him and slammed my hand over his mouth.
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  • Looking for Work
  • Looking for Work

    Seeking employment these days requires tenacity, creativity — and a whole new vocabulary
      At least I knew what that one was, the Fluvial Geomorphologist. I had an idea, anyway, since I worked with environmental consultants for close to 18 years, doing hundreds of Environmental Site Assessments.
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  • 1st Place - & amp;quot;Seeing & amp;quot;

      Once, when I was a young boy, I saw something no one else was able to see. I saw it clearly, bright as a hummingbird's heart, but of course no one believed me. For a long time, I yearned to see in that special way again, but now I know it's

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