SNHU Creative Writing Posts

Residual

by Steven J. Gray The opportunity arrived and they couldn’t turn it down. Seb had been eyeing the house he grew up in for years. It was on the market once before, well before he was in any position to be considering a home purchase. That didn’t stop him from…

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Soul Storm

by Caitlin Eha I am the storm Inside, I cannot Be still—the wind Fights, tears at me Battering, blinding The rain falls, flies In my face, like Bullets, biting. The lightning courses Through me—power Rising up, striking out Electricity—is it Hurting, or healing Clouds covering, their Darkness smothering Light, dark—lightning,…

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What My Parents Meant

by Amy Covel When my parents told me Being an adult would be hard I thought they meant The stress of paying bills on time Or caring for a husband and three kids Or working forty hours a week. I didn’t know being an adult meant Having fallingouts for telling…

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A Pattern

by Twixt A pattern is argyled on the surface of the highland stream, on the trouts’ flank-flash, on the pebbled, fundamental bottom. In its back-drift wake picture-perfects snake.

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Pollination

by Aaron S. Gallagher “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, “but you have very kind eyes.” That’s a new one, she thought. “Oh?” “Yes. I wanted to tell you that. Would you like to have a coffee with me?” He had an affable smile, tousled short brown hair, and…

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Golden Years

by Amy Brian You walk slowly As we go down the road.  Mist flicks our cheeks, One thousand tears in the air.  Your boots drag against the gravel,  Punctuating each step we take.  Pebbles scamper, making blissful declarations:  Pop, pop, pop.  The wind gives us his hello;  Its rhythm can…

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Egg Salad Sandwiches

by Nicholas McGirr I was 12 when I started working for Mrs. Sesser. I remember this distinctly because it was the summer before my 8th grade year. That was 2 years ago. I’m a sophomore in high school now and I’m about to attend Mrs. Sesser’s funeral. That summer was…

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And the Wind Blows

by Twixt And the wind blows, and reblows what was blown, and well-felt featly dealt rains are arraigned,  a blank bank of souffled clouds appears drained, perky percolations gradually pool.

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Femme Fatale

by Rudy Ravindra While taking a short cut through a lush wooded park to the swimming pool, Rahul glimpses, through haze of the morning fog, a divine damsel in a diaphanous dress, swaying gently on a swing. Her thick tangled hair is pulled back with a white scarf, except for…

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Time

by Shannon Still In such a short time, within a blink of an eye, our life can be over and then with a sigh… We look back on the story we so hastily wrote, and ask where the time went ever so remote.  

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