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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The girl stares at me. “What?” She shakes her head and runs off, back to her friends. I am glad they find my...problem…so interesting. I can see her whispering now, surrounded by her groupies. I walk to my locker, my shoes scuffed and dirty, my face gaunt and my eyes circled. I may look horri...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    "It’s just a joke.” I laugh nervously, smiling, looking around for somewhere to hide. She nudges my arm and shrugs a casual arm around my shoulders. I can’t breathe. I don’t want her to touch me but I do not shrug her off. I play along and carry on walking. “She can take a laugh, ...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    I hate you because you laughed at me in front of everyone. I hate you because you made the other kids laugh too. I hate you because you chased me in the playground until you caught me. I hate you because when you caught me, you pushed me up against the wall. I hate you because I had to hide the ...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    The memories are always here Seeing them is crystal clear Better if they weren’t recalled But out of boxes they were pulled. I had a tough time coping But no time just for moping It’s not something anyone should do Much less have to struggle through. They taste like congealed blood ...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    “Get her! Loser! Oh my god, yes! She’s running for the playground, corner her! Run little mouse, run!” I run. My bag clunks me on the back, almost a promise of the beating that I am going to get. My heart is pounding, a drum beating in my head. Faster faster.I can’t let them catch me. I a...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The girl stares at me. “What?” She shakes her head and runs off, back to her friends. I am glad they find my...problem…so interesting. I can see her whispering now, surrounded by her groupies. I walk to my locker, my shoes scuffed and dirty, my face gaunt and my eyes circled. I may look horri...
  • Fiction > Scripts & Plays
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    “It was a Sunday when my brother died. He was coming out of the sweetshop and I didn’t hold his hand. I was angry because he’d been whining for more sweets than I had money for and he had kicked me for saying so. I was ten and he was five, I was responsible for him. I didn’t hold his hand...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Who is that knock-a-knockin’ on the door? It’s the bailiff come to even the score What have we done to bring him here? Cancer, old-age, divorce. See my tears? Our children pack their bags and sob “Mommy why are we leaving?” I am robbed Their childhood is sliding away But I can’t do ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    mental illness. Those two words have the power to give an image of both of these things: crazy people that rave and rant or a violent, scary person. Yes, I am sure there are a few unfortunate individuals who have this problem. But this is not a definition of mental illness. Many people with &#...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The bells jangle on my way into the shop. This is one of the places where I feel that I truly fit in. Where my technicolor dreams are transferred onto my skin, so that I can look at myself any time and not only see the scars but also the stories. I love tattoos. Oh, I know some people hate it, old ...
  • Poetry > Song Lyrics
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    Silently, happily She goes where he is Where he's supposed to be Searching, frantically The heart starts beating Harder and harder While her love is cheating Leaving farther and farther And she always says her prayers Before she gets into bed And she always trusts her heart But now...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    I ran, looking over my shoulder constantly. I ran not only to save my life but to save the lives of all the other unknowns-the Others that had a gift from the Gods. We were no longer revered, no longer hailed as messengers of the Gods which humankind used to worship. No. Now we were shunned, turned ...

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