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  • Poetry > Haiku
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    hair curls around my face once again, keeping my facade no one sees my tears...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I don't belong here anymore. The pews are filled with your family and neighbors, crowding in a mass of mourning humanity. I recognize Mrs. McClellan from when we walked to youth group together. She blows her nose, a honking-goose sound amid the kids screaming in the back. I walk over to your mo...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You stare up at me, shallow bodies and kaleidoscope eyes sadness embedded in your mothers' frail movements because you don't know that you could die lyrics twist around my head do something make a difference I watch your starving eyes absorb the barren dirt as if it hold...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    I do not remember the last time someone called me beautiful. Looking in the mirror, I see none of the beauty that grants my peers. I have neither alabaster skin nor silky hair, nor stunning eyes or perfect lips. I have zits, and I make no efforts to hide them. My nose is reddened by years of slightl...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    You spun stories like cotton-candy, conjuring dreams as if they were real. You taught me to throw a curveball hard and fast, until my glove was worn-in and home plate was littered with sand. You walked with me through the forest, dark eyes focused only on me as sunlight filtered through the long, sp...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I loved you in the days when those two awful words meant nothing. My father muttered, “She’s gone,” in a grief-laced voice I’d never heard before. I didn’t understand. He stood by the casket, scuffed dress shoes planted in the grass, watching me. You darted forward, whisking me away ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    “Do you really think Occupant 412 will tell the truth?” The Commander questioned the sheriff. He was one of the Leader’s men, commissioned to ensure the government’s safety, and at the moment, that included interrogating everyone who was linked to the suspects. That included us, the staff at...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Now. He pauses. Again his chance is dashed. Now. The bright lights glow as he paces, waiting for the red to turn. Turning: the act of reversing position, according to Webster’s. He checks his gilded watch, the time ticking steadily, the second hand smirking at him as it reaches its pinnacle, and f...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Once again, I was alone. I poured out my wounds to the porcelain basin. Nobody was here, and nobody would judge me. I was alone, and I could make things right. I stared into the watery face of the bowl, a liquid grave for my sins staring back at me. I pushed my hair back, a weak attempt at control. ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Serene orb, shrouded by veils of cotton-candy fog terrestrial secrets keeping vigil with the whispers of the stars Her face is pockmarked, porous craters full of faults yet she does not judge beauty by another’s eyes Her voice softly caresses the earth, her whispers scented like gentle ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A tree stands alone, weathered color, pockmarked skin waiting for a slow, silent death his hollows have been forgotten, his achievements erased, Holding tired branches dragging memories still clinging to his sorry bark, as the world around him crumbles, ricocheting, melting into dust, ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I sharpen my pencil and prepare for death again, writing as though it is a matter of life or death. I clench my warm coffee cup like a hammer and turn on my computer, the monitor humming cheerfully. I start typing, my fingers flying over the keys. It’s hard to start at first. I was good at that, t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sturdy, clothed in pompous evergreen, waiting, arms outstretched, for weary travelers to sit once they’re tired of the world Don’t ask for much, just A little companionship, Light frames your dark Bowed legs, that stand Forever In want of someone To help with the tired passag...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I never loved her. Yeah, I did the whole dating, dinner, engagement thing to a T, but I never loved her. That doesn’t matter, though. I mean, it does, but I’m not as much a savage beast as I sound. She never loved me either. She was in love with the wedding and her parents’ fairy-tale wish for...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    After all these years, the name still gives me chills. To others, it sounds perhaps like the name for a lacy white petticoat, or a new dress pattern, but if ‘tis a petticoat, then ‘tis surely laced with malice. To me it sounds sharp, hiding every bit of its dark, deadly nature contained within t...
  • Nonfiction > Sports
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    I'm the girl who shows up to her first group ride with unexplainable blood on her knee. I stand in the parking lot, feeling young and immature, with my bike beside me. Terri, the ride coach, is chatting, but I'm in no mood to talk. I'm nervous: everyone else is much bigger and older, and from my mag...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Heroines always have tragic deaths. Although I’m no heroine, mine will be no different. I walk onto the soccer field several blocks away from my house late one summer evening. As I’m a middle-class, neighborly teenage girl, nobody will be concerned. If I was in a group, they’d think I was doin...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She brushed her hair back, repeatedly. He couldn’t tell whether it was to highlight her natural waves or to express agitation. He cleared his throat. “So, Andrea, where were you born?” It was a lame question and he knew it, so well, but what could he do? The low light grazed his face and illum...
  • Nonfiction > Sports
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    I line up at the one-hundred meter line one Wednesday, my heart pounding. In the lanes beside me are five other girls. The starter announces, “On your mark . . . get set . . .” and fires a pistol. I race breathlessly, always checking to see how I compare to the rest of the group. I have my eyes ...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    I am a dreamer of nourishing fantasies that will not come true...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Gluey, off-white strands are twisted to form a blemished circle for they never turn out perfect dough the color of a sidewalk cannot expect to have much potential but it does a hazy mist of flour swirls around the sticky mass like snow on a dried-up field I pound the dough roughly, my w...
  • Opinion > Sports / Hobbies
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    Dear Golf, I’m not sure if you knew this, but you and I have kind of a strained relationship. I totally thought that I liked you, and you liked me, but I guess yesterday you proved me wrong. I've heard rumors that love-hate relationships aren't very good to have, so I guess that means...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You sit, grinning unsuspectingly an over-sized Vanilla Tootsie Roll with lights and false promises brimming with cheap authenticity, gilded silver Perching on dull counter-tops in inviting pastel accessories, accents of robin's-egg and lavender, your wares, carriers of “lite” calories...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    I’m not a normal student, as I have very unique relationships with my teachers. I know some of their inside jokes, and joke around with them. I see them before the school day starts and long after it ends. I have been to some of their houses, upon occasion. I’ve been out to restaurants and nail ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    I stood at the back of the church, in the dark hallway, waiting to receive a rose and walk down the aisle. Along with me were the rest of my classmates, and we were all getting nervous and worried. One of my friends swore, and several of my peers said that they were going to faint. I thought back to...

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