by April Garcia Could fear be the invisible culprit hiding— like a Copperhead in dead leaves —waiting, to poison me before ink meets paper? Even now, it slithers unseen— though the recesses of this busy mind.
Featured Writing
Memoir Posts
Another Man’s Treasure
by Vanessa Kristovich My grandmother was a great lady, the matriarch of my father’s family. She had bright eyes and salt-and pepper hair, and a beautiful, warm smile. She also had some strong opinions, and one of them was that a person shouldn’t buy junk. Grandmom used to visit at…
Kushif (Unveil)
by Tyler Townsend A memoir of Jordan. I The vast majority of the area located around Queen Alia International Airport consists of rolling sand hills and sparse trees, which give next to no shade. The sun in mid-June is a murderous fiend. The locals, who are obviously acclimated to the…
Life After Bambi
by Robert Dinsmoor When I was four, my mother took me to see “Bambi,” a movie in which the title character’s mother is brutally killed near the beginning. I cried inconsolably. “What happens if you die?” I asked my mother. “What would become of me?” Her answer was as simple…
Grand Children
by Connie Bedgood McWilliams When I was 47 years old, Jeremy Adam Nicholas was born. I was at the Heights hospital in Houston, Texas, along with my three sons and wives. Danny, who is my youngest son’s best friend, his wife and a few week old son were in the waiting room. Of…
Building the First Kwuda Cabin
by Crow Johnson Evans N. Scott Momaday’s grandmother shared a Kiowa Creation myth. They came one by one out of a hollow log and called themselves Kwuda, “coming out.” Forty years ago, when I was entering my thirties, caught up in the free-fall terror of an unexpected divorce and unexpected…
The Broken Road
by Ruben Rucoba In 2004, at the age of 40, I underwent a stem cell transplant for something called myelodysplastic syndrome, a blood disorder that turns cancerous. The transplant saved my life, for which I am truly grateful. But the transplant also taught me something that many patients with life-threatening…
Blindside
by Linda Bragg LATE DECEMBER 1972 The sour smell of lung cancer clings to the humid air – heavy, unyielding. My family lives in Florida, and like most homes, ours has no air-conditioning. My father’s been sick for two years — now he’s coughing up blood and breathing has…
A Weed in the Garden
by Cathy Krizik Keandra placed her napkin in her lap. “Can we pray?” Oh shit. Lunch was supposed to be soup and salad. Not this. I clenched my teeth and dropped my knife, the clang reverberating like a spade hitting rock. Here? Now? Really? “Pray—right. Yes, of course.” Keandra and…
The Upside Down Chair
by Michelle Huston I have no memory of the first time I got my period. I can barely remember getting it this past week, although the gnawing feeling inside my uterus reminds me that it did indeed arrive on Wednesday. I do, however, remember when I first learned that a…
Washing You
by Doris Ferleger Your bent elbow juts out. It is stiff and light and feels easily crushable against my hip as I walk around you. My body jerks away. I circle you at a distance of eighteen inches plus eighteen inches, the distance of each of our auras. Though maybe…