Featured Writing

Central Park from above.

Old Names Matter

by Paul Hundt I often walk through Manhattan’s Central Park, usually from East 96th Street to my club at 59th and 7th. It’s about two miles in all and, about half way, I sometimes pass a solitary boulder just south of the Rumsey Playfield between the Mall and The East…

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Fiction Posts

Cereal and Fire

By Holli Harms “Cereal and Fire” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. My sister wakes up in a room. She wakes and finds that when she tries to move she can’t. Her arms and legs are held down. Strapped down. She is strapped to a…

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A bowl of white eggshells.

Eggshells

By Jennifer Taylor “Eggshells” placed second in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. One day in the June of her eleventh year, I awoke to find the whole world blanketed in white. Eggshells …everywhere. I had been warned this is what would happen with a girl child. One…

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A reservoir with a highway passing over it.

The Jump Off

By Laura Carnes Williams “The Jump Off” placed third in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. Deke is let into the fraternity house by a baggy-eyed Bro in insignia-branded pajamas, gnawing on a chicken wing. The Bro shuffles away to join the others, sprawled around the flat-screen in…

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Over the Beyond

By E. M. Francisco “Over the Beyond” placed fourth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. Florence’s plane is bright. It streaks through the sky like a shooting star, a cigarette carelessly tossed aside. Her breaths are heavy as she fights with the stick. Clouds whip past her…

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A cup of coffee on a table in a cafe.

Fare Thee Well, Basket Face

By Steven Christopher McKnight “Fare Thee Well, Basket Face” placed fifth in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. You see a guy at a coffee shop. He’s simple-looking. Nice hair. Good build. Impeccable forearms. His face is featureless, save for the fact that it’s made of interwoven wicker….

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A violin resting on its case outdoors.

The Songs of Lakewood

by J D Francis Woodrow Franklin sat resting, slowly pushing back and forth on an old, wooden bench swing that hung from a rusty chain on the front porch of the tiny cottage. It is where he has lived for thirty-seven years, alone. The bench squeaked and moaned with every…

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A bakery window filled with pastries.

Another Round

by Lisa L. Lynn In Derrick’s younger years as a baker, women and pastry were somehow all of the same dreamlike confection, heady with sugar, alternately cloying and sublime. They were so indelibly coupled that he had often tasted women as rich layers of butter and salt, almond and fruit,…

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An analog clock at 8:10.

8:29 a.m.

by Katie Stavick 8:05 a.m. I shut off the alarm and lay in my bed, contemplating calling in sick. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? I already submitted my notice, which sucked. “It’s not that we don’t like you or think you could handle the job. We know you could. But the person we…

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A dining room table set for company.

The Dining Room

by Sarah Ockershausen Delp The table is set for company. The florescent shine off the faucet is deafening.  She’ll teeter in, whisking the tiles in tiny steps. Click clacking in her vintage heels as soon as the bell ting-tings on the oven. I’m cooking inside. It smells of rosemary and thyme, roasted…

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Two champagne flutes next to a pink flower arrangement.

Champagne and Doubt

by Sara Carey The twinkling lights in the restaurant were beginning to blur together. Emily’s cheeks were warm, her hair falling in soft tendrils around her face. She couldn’t believe she was sitting across such a handsome man, and she knew that she was way out of her league when…

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