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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It was dark outside. The sun had already sunk below the jagged city horizon, engulfing it in darkness. A few stars dotted the sky. In a small, inner-city apartment, sat a young man in his late twenties. His hair was thick and curly, like sheep’s wool, but it was the color of the dark soil or wet w...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Last night I fell asleep on the couch and woke up on the couch. I remember when I would fall asleep on the couch or on the floor, and Dad would scoop me up and take me to my room, and I would wake up – as if by magic – in my own bed. I remember when we had a treehouse in the backyard...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She started to scream again last night, and I ran to her room—blood rushing to my head, pulsing in my ears. Dad can only comfort her so long before he breaks down and whispers, “Call the ambulance.” I ride in the backseat, silent, numb, mute. It’s been six months, now, and the sic...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    My friends and I used to sit in the bowing trees, Let the grass tickle our feet, Run inside when it go too hot, Eat ice-cream, sticky and sweet. The world was fresh and new to us, No worries, stress, or fears, But that was a long time ago— It has been many years. The trees stand lonely...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I stood beside the ocean, And looked out to where the endless stretch of sea, Met the churning, billowing clouds of day— And felt smaller than a seed. In the infinite cosmos of space, Of galaxies and solar systems and planets a million miles away, I am nothing in their face. Of seven bill...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I push by you in the hallways, and give you dangerous glares, and spit at you when I think you won’t see. But I go home where my dad beats me. I throw paper at you in class, and whisper about you in the halls, and “accidentally” whack you in the head, But three years ago I came home a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I sat down in the grass, and stared at the swaying daffodils, watched the bees dancing around the magnolia petals, heard the gentle rush of cars from the unseen highway. I felt Buddy’s cold nose against my leg, and I put my arm around his thick neck, his mane of orange fur. I looked a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The visits to my house grow few in number, and yet— I am happy to be home for a while. As I climb the stairs to the porch, I feel like a stranger or a weary traveler, coming to a place of safety— refuge from the storm. It saddens me when Buddy comes to greet me, and he whimpers hesitan...

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