Featured Writing

Photo of a woman

My Father’s Last Girlfriend

by M. Guendelsberger My brother Pete was the one to find it once that dry tape finally gave way and the photo drifted down to the black and white tile of my dead grandmother’s basement floor. We had been stacking the chairs on that table, flipping them upside down so…

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SNHU Student Posts

Reading Mary Oliver

by The Poet Darkling I gaze upon the poet;her words – ponderless, profound;deep and dark and blue –and think,what such have I to offerfrom my humble beginningsor my sordid pastto justify the title of poet? To answer the unanswerable? To defend my consumptionof fish, of fowl, of air, of love?…

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Time’s Up

by Chantae Eaton “Beep beep, beep beep.” His alarm sounded promptly at six a.m., the same as it had every Monday since his eighteenth birthday. Today it did not fulfill its duty in rousing him. Rufus was already awake and had been for some time. He’d spent the last three…

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Journey’s End

by Kristal Peace My confidant… How did we get here againTo knives thrownHoles madeVows shatteredFeelings swayed. My ally… When did we find our way backTo moments beforeCivilized discourseTo rage and fearAnd throats screamed hoarse. My sympathizer… Why do we prefer the roadAdorned with bramblesThistles and thornsLittered with grudgesAnd studded with…

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For Better or Worse

by Amy Southard Jodi looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw that it was 11:11 PM. She laid in the magnificent king-sized four poster bed waiting for her husband Mark to join her. Neither of them had stayed in a place so fancy before, not because they couldn’t…

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The Prince Machiavellian

by The Poet Darkling Wrenched from the fryerstraight into the flamesof hatred and avarice goall duty and senseand a thousand convictionswe’ve deemed unneeded,such as dignity, pride,and any righteous defense when our moral leaders areneither leaders nor moraland we give them a passto escape the blamewhich belongs to no oneexcept We…

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Large, empty classroom

Suffer the Lacerated Children

by Khristy L. Knudtson I spend five days of my seven educating teenagers pretending I’m not an emotional delinquent with the same “mommy issues” as the boy with the overgrown yellow hair in the back row with the newly minted scars.  He radiates pain like a nuclear bomb everywhere he…

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White picnic basket on a red blanket.

Retreat

by Christopher Hines It was a crisp October evening. The sun had just begun to set on the horizon and the sky was a mix of vibrant red and boorish gray. What leaves remained on the trees and lined the park had turned shades of oranges and yellows with some browns….

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Man in the dark with his hand on his forehead.

Fear

by Amy Covel Fear can drive a man mad. Fear of failure and loss,Not of a loved oneOr a possession,But the selfish pursuitOf one’s own perfection. This test of fearIs passed by the manContent to earnAnd claim as his ownA monster’s soul. For monsters feel no fear,So why be human,Crippled…

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Ancient Garden

by Rachel M. Patterson The ancient garden looks dead tonight, Darkness feeds it with her poison, It hums with ossified future light, A light the now appears frozen. . The promise of a flame in the morning, Hypnotizes the wandering mind, A ghosted tree heeds it’s warning, The gruesome remains…

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Life in Death

by Adina Edelman I smell death. The stench isn’t unbearable; more like the lingering odor of a tuna sandwich left out too long. But it brings up a heavy feeling inside me, a sickening anticipation for what is to come. I stroll down the locker-lined hallway, my boots making no…

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