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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” “No need to ask, I am fairest of all.” “Will the world ever accept my countless flaws?” “When I stride into a room, the air shall pause.” “Will my skin ever soften, my hair ever sheen?” “Ah, how lovely it is to ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    I open the creaking door of the shack delicately, as if not to disturb what sits inside. I always enter this way, standing tip-toed in my satin shoes and grasping the wood with light fingers. It is like interrupting an important conversation between the King and one of his many subjects – terrifyi...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The moon is hanging from a string. It is really very simple, you see. I woke up this morning and looked out my window, caked with the dust of the city. I let in the dank air, and my small bedroom immediately smelled of asphalt and car fumes. I could hear a siren in the distance, and Mrs. Cabbag...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I sit alone in solitude and watch the painted leaves; they rustle in cruel wind. The way they move, natural, mesmerized am I. Like gradual thunder, the sound, it builds. My hair flies in the breeze like a soaring kite. The scent of autumn air encloses me in thought....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Like the colors of autumn foliage, I changed. The whispers, the constant pessimism, the need for perfection, I craved this. I needed it. I needed others to feel as bad as I did. Those same twelve people, in those same three rooms, in that single building, five days a week. I could barely...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    While on a walk today, I thought about things. Among these, the color black. Usually, black, to our society, symbolizes negativity. Black is death. Black is gloom and loneliness. Why, though? Why black? Is it its darkness? Most likely. Darkness, to most, is scary; instinct says to turn away from it...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    He is sprawled out comfortably under the treehouse. Occasionally, he rises and strolls around a bit, talk flicking proudly in the air, then settles in the soft grass yet again. The sun bathes him in a royal glow. "I am king," says his regal shadow. Suddenly, shrill chirping comes from t...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs

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