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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I had a childhood, boyhood friend I'll never forget. I mean, I suppose you never really forget the friend you shared your first drunken, blurry night with, or the one who comforted you while you watched the world fall apart, brick by brick, on that tangy, juicy trip gone wrong. Why? Because ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The twang of the symphony That's what I've always loved even the rush of blue, melancholy tones Swirling past my ears gave me life But I fell, and fell hard And let him ruin me, Mistrusted myself And found that I could no longer Feel the vibration Of plucking strings Beneath my...
  • Opinion > Spirituality / Religion
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    There was that time you slipped on the ice, scraping your knee on the asphalt. Or that time a bright red Porsche splashed you with a raining spray of mud. But then too, there also was that time last week you forgot your lunch at home. Again. And what did you learn from those incidents? Those, an...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I'm watching the clock tick by. 6:21 I'm rubbing away the remnants of a restless sleep from my blurry eyes. And now it's 6:24, and I really can't focus. How did that happen? I find myself asking this everyday as I am increasingly stunned at the speed which time seems to ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    My Dad winked at me like we were pals or something. Granted, he was drunk, so this wasn't all that surprising. I stood in the lighted entrance of the Salty Platoon, scanning the crowd for my Dad through the haze of cigarette smoke that hung as thick in the air as a morning fog. I had been cal...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It's intoxicating, really The sensation of Him I want Him And all He comes with A thick wallet A glass apartment And the foolish pride of one ridden with desire Because I have wanted Him since youth The prospect of heavenly city lights my name in print Contentment ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Her arms were embellished with the inky tendrils of faded tattoos. Her hair was piled on top of her head, streaked, bleached, and dyed a wide spectrum of auburns and reds. Her petite frame was clothed in black leggings, which looked unbearably uncomfortable in the dry Austin heat, and a threadbare b...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    My hand clasped the metal fence to my right as I jumped up and down, my black loafers sliding off of my stocking feet with each hop. Yellowcard's music blasted in my ears, live, for the first time in my life, and with it stormed the memories of a life lived long ago. One where ignorance shelter...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The loud cries of the city never cease. Its dull haze never rises above the highest skyscraper, making the air near impossible to breath. Cars crawl by in the rush-hour traffic and every person bustles about the streets, their minds concentrated only on their own tasks ahead. Much like worker bees b...

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