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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    There’s a little point on the bank of the stream where I used to meet you. Covered by branches, hidden from view, it was the perfect spot. And I remember you when I first met you, flustered because you had gotten an A- on your algebra test, and I laughed because I didn’t know that could be so ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    It’s been exactly 3 years. You know, I was normal 3 years ago. It’s been exactly 3 years, and 2 months. It would’ve been better if we hadn’t snuck out. It’s been exactly 3 years, and 2 months, and 14 days. And it would’ve been better if you hadn’t tried to impress me by walking on...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    I love the color blue, but being here and seeing so much of it, might alter what I consider to be my favorite. I tried to stop him, I really did, but when you have a gun pointed right into your eyes, it's hard to think about something other than the fact that you could be dead soon. We were...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It’s Sunday, and I sit here and you sit there, me with coffee and you with tea. You look like you’re comfortable, and I’m only comfortable in that I like how I look. My name is unimportant, and yours is Rick, but the lady who calls the names always calls you Ricky - I wonder about that somet...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I wished I dreamed in black and white, then my life would be less complex, the warnings will fade with ceaseless endeavor, and nights will soon shade a black-cotton summer. Life is so simple - so simple that, in this world so lifeless and dull, a train will pull, a marble will spin, a...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    We met on the first day of high school, it was an odd meeting, but I guess it was a suitable meeting for our odd relationship. I had received a cup of chocolate chip ice cream from a lunch lady who had known my Mother. As I sat down, a wavy, brown-haired boy with remarkable sapphire eyes approac...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I sit here with a sheet of paper, audacious and white, watching and waiting, as if it were alive. My pen descends, the paper quivers, and I retract my hand in fright. This paper is alive, and it is waiting for me to make it bright, bright with courage, and adventure bright, so bright s...
  • Opinion > Pop Culture / Trends
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    When I turned 13, I recognized it as the happiest day of my life. Some people wish they had never grown up, but I wish it with all my life. Perhaps it is because I am young, or perhaps it is because I am foolish. When I was 11 and 12 it seemed like my life was a living hell, full of ‘do’ and ...

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