Featured Writing

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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Nonfiction Posts

Two horses standing in a field.

Earth and Bones

by Amanda Lightner My mother called one gray February morning. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?” Pinching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I scraped cereal from my son’s bib. “Mom? You there?” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. Sorry to call so early, but I have a favor…

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woman and a baby

Eva

By Joyce Hurd For International Women’s Day, we’re celebrating the daily impact women have on our lives. This essay honors a grandmother who met all of the challenges life threw at her with hard work, faith and love. My grandmother, Eva, immigrated from Canada as a girl and married another…

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Two people holding hands

Singing for the Unsung Hero

By Katelynn Smith For International Women’s Day, we’re celebrating the daily impact women have on our lives. This essay honors a dedicated social worker who puts the needs of her students and colleagues above all else. We all know an unsung hero. Maybe it’s a parent or caretaker who’s unnoticed…

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Cloudy sky with a ray of sunshine.

Lion of the Pen

By Adiela Akoo When it rains, it pours!! These last few days epitomized this, with no less than four family members being rushed to the hospital, two requiring urgent operations! The usually effervescent energy of the family chat group quickly shifted to a somberness that weighed heavily on the chest,…

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The Ending Of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo”

By Joseph Eastburn One of my three favorite movies of all time is “Vertigo.” I have seen it countless times. I would tell you, without a doubt, that I understand the ending. At least I thought I did. Many years ago, when we still had VCRs, my wife mentioned that though…

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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…

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Butchery

by Marilee Robin Burton I trekked to Glendale to retrieve a copy of Black Tickets by Jayne Anne Phillips, an intense and dark writer. The book was a collection of stories I’d been wanting to read and had even ordered from Amazon but was too anxious to await the money-saving secondhand…

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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…

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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…

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