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  • Fiction > Scripts & Plays
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    CLARISSA: [Enters stage through side entrance. Walks to the center.] When people look at me, they see money spurring from my pockets in hundreds. [Reaches in and spills cash from her pocket; lots.] And I don’t mean hundreds of bills. I mean hundred dollar bills, and they’re in such abundance, I ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    18 and Gone April 17th, 1991 When I was small, my mother handed me the blueprint for the life that would please her of me. If I was proper, married, stiff, and orderly, she’d be pleased with my existence. What I saw her asking me to do was to be saccharine. Smile, even if you feel th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    “No,” My mom said with a dismissing wave. “It will not happen.” I lowered my head as missiles of thunder shot from around her body. “Columbia University,” I murmured, as rain dripped around me. It was so close… but my mother dragged the idea away ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    People like me, who have a stash of knives inside them that are used involuntarily each time my feelings are crumbled and suffocated and stomped on, don't do big things. My swim coach put me in the 200 free, and saw something in me, that enabled him to believe I coul...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It was The Sound of Music playing on her dinosaur television, It was the way she spoke about her childhood hometown with nostalgic reminisce, It was the fact that she created and nurtured my love for back scratching, It was her gullible nature and goofy grin, It was the strength she possessed as...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Each time I pull out paper to write, my heart slams against the walls of my chest and it howls in fear My heart cowers in trepidation from me because it knows the paper is ghastly empty and my heart is full...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Her hair is beaded with stars The freckles on her face are in the shape of a constellation and her fingers are long, so she can reach up towards the black sky and touch the twinkling lights Her violet shaded eyes soak up the night sky, so even while she sleeps, its still on display under ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    I’m waiting for the day my younger sister will approach me with teary eyes and say she despises middle school. Sometimes, I see it in her eyes that she isn’t happy. I’m waiting for her to say how seventh grade is horrible in its entirety, just as I did. And this is the answer I’m waiting to ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Maybe when this crimson heavyweight in my chest sinks to the ground like a rock in the ocean I'll be rid of the anchor that halted my feelings to an aching stop. Because each time I look at someone else, the heavyweight anchors me down from floating away with another. I hope it sinks t...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    A blank page is intimidating. It could be the stage for the next great American novel, an ebullient diary entry, or perhaps a melancholy poem about heartbreak. Or the blank page can bear one word. That one word can summon a universe of feelings. One word can be a story in itself. One wor...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The smell of cinnamon vanilla Swam through the midnight room From the tiny flame Engulfed in a pool of wax I tiptoed along the chilled hardwood floor To the candle Which stood underneath The glass from behind which snow descended. The arrows on the clock Hung on 3:00 a.m. I grinned throu...
  • Nonfiction > Travel & Culture
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    I have this burning desire. It is to see aurora borealis. Unfamiliar with what I'm refering to? Aurora borealis are the skylights in Alaska that appear during the nighttime in winter. I'm curious as to whether being in their presence is as magnificent as I imagine. Is aurora borealis so me...

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