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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She reached at the grass and pulled out several blades, as if digging up her memories from the earth itself. The sun warmed the freckles across her nose, her frizzy blonde hair full of barrettes and braids and happiness. A woman with endearing eyes sat across from Ezra, sharing the same snack of ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I looked into her small sticky eyes for the first time, felt her tight, tiny hand around just my ring finger, and my heart exploded. The bits of my heart floated up my chest and then out of my eyes, heavy tears of happiness convincing me that she was all I'd ever need. Her skin was a painful r...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Walking through a grocery store makes me anxious. I'm afraid to make eye contact with any of the passersby. I mean, should I smile? Should I nod a bit? What if someone asks me a question, what if they don't look back, what if they know just by looking directly into my eyes? The thought alo...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    God willing, my mother was going to beat the Devil out of me. By now she'd caught a glimpse of Him, dancing at the corners of my mouth, and she'd tried scrubbing Him out, forcing that fifth commandment down my throat with toothpaste and scalding water. ```````````````````````````````````...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The sun gleamed off the ocean water, and with one sultry glare she turned the sands raspy texture to that of glossy plastic. I planted my toes deep within the shore, trying to force myself beneath the earth. The breeze wrapped around my shoulders, and I leaned my weight into it. This place makes ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I pour a glass of orange juice for each of us in the crystal wine flutes his mother got us last year. We'd already finished off the two bottles of Chardonnay last night, first screaming and fighting and cursing, then weeping until we just had to laugh. So here we are with orange juice, lots of ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am comprised almost entirely of water. I am broken. I am the color of ripe pumpkins and navels and sweet potatoes and poppies and excitement. Nestled in cardboard, clothed in plastic packaging. I am warm in my frozen manmade bed. I am cloaked in crystal negligee. I...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It's been two months since the talk, and I'm still pathetically hopeful. I mean, hey - everyone says a woman is always a mother, a man is a father once he sees his child. Maybe...maybe he just needs to see her. I took a deep breath for both of us. The whole school knew by now, and all...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Quietly, he spoke. "Well then I can't see you any more." I searched his face quizzically, trying to figure out where exactly this was coming from. Definitely not his backbone, that's for sure. "Then open your eyes, Craig! This - this isn't something you can jus...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    So, imagine you're in a car. (Yes, I know this is silly, but just do it for me.) You're in a car, and you're sitting next to someone who absolutely puts the color into your world, you know? Someone who just knocks the socks right-the-hell off of your feet. And I mean, you've got so...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    1:13 The liquor burns and scratches its way down my throat, but the watery feeling in my head makes up for the unpleasantness. You see, it's easier to make stupid, poorly thought-out decisions when you're drunk, because you know when someone asks you the next day "wtf @ last nite?!&...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Shaking my head gently and with the slightest of a smile I turned to him and said, " You know...it really doesn't matter to me anymore." He was so taken aback that I didn't even have to interrupt him as planned...but I pretended like I had anyways. - "BeCAUSEEE I'm ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    "C'mon, Mel, you used to love to throw down!" He hands me a luke-warm beer and a smile. I don't know his name, and after searching my memory I realize that I never did. He was a thick build, a rough dresser; but his face was kind. Inviting. Well whoever he is he doesn't k...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    I wipe at my stupid eyes with the back of my hand, and it startles me for a second that my tears are gray. I dunno why it surprised me; I mean, I buy the s***ty mascara that’s $1.99 in the 20 Items or Less checkout lane. Why spend oodles of green on something I hardly ever use? I just wanted to...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    There's too much air in the room; it's thick and sufficating. You know, they say that if a guy calls you mainly by a petname, it could mean he's seeing more than one woman; keeping track of every name can be tricky. I clasp my hand to my sternum. "Get. Out." I manage to squeeze the words past t...

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