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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    A blank screen, daunting only to those without the ideas, words, sentences, and paragraphs to fill it. The quick clicking of fingers across a keyboard, typing as quickly as the story flows, annoying to those who don’t understand the anarchy. Coffee swallowed, caffeine soaked into the bloodstream...
  • Opinion > Points of View
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    I believe in the power of a good story and the right words. As a writer, I am always thinking about the best and most interesting way to tell a tale, and it is always my goal to convey something that will stick with the reader for a long time. When you write something that can elicit emotions and ma...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The mother holds her crying newborn daughter She rocks her calmingly Back and forth, back and forth “Don’t cry,” she whispers. “You know I love you.” Years fly by before her eyes The mother holds her crying teenage daughter She rocks her calmingly Back and forth, back and forth “...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sometimes when I’m reading I travel to different worlds Where dragons and angels Are real I hear nothing, not even my thoughts And all I see is words And when my book closes I feel like I’ve just Woken up From a dream...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Round, circular glasses. Dark sweater knit by my sweet grandma, love in every stitch. Baggy dark jeans, no designer label on the back. Matted, wildly curly hair that refuses to cooperate. Uncool backpack, leftover from middle school. Ratty tennis shoes, not designer. No makeup. Being a freshman ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Birth. It is the same for all species. We are all born fragile and helpless. We can’t fend for ourselves at birth. But we are born in different ways. The birth of a plant is different from the birth of a human. I am born from a seed, but humans are born from a woman who will become their mother...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    My feet hang over the edge of the old wooden dock where I’m perched, my toes barely skimming the cool water. In my hands I hold the last letter I ever received from my grandpa. When I was younger my grandfather would always bring me out to this exact spot. We’d sit and talk, letting our feet ...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    My father has always been a paranoid man. He’s the kind of guy that goes around the house and locks all the windows at night, checking three times before he finally - finally! - feels safe enough to get into bed and try to sleep for a few hours before getting up to sit out on the porch and watch t...

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