Featured Writing

a statue of an angel appears to be blowing clouds into the sky from a horn

The Angel

By Phibby Venable An angel was perched delicately on the straight back chair in the corner, but everyone pretended not to see her. At least it appeared that way to fifteen – year old Katie, who couldn’t take her eyes off the golden wings and slim figure. “Mama, don’t you…

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Author Archive

Dear Mr. Frost

by Libby O’Connor Dear Mr. Frost,        I do not think this path is wide enough for the two of us.        There is a road you’ve traveled,        that I’d like to tread; But, Mr. Poe, my rapid heartbeat is driving me mad with its unrelenting T H U M P I…

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My Inky Callus Hands

by Libby O’Connor I raised my sword -a simple quill!- and poked each finger until the ink did spill upon the page, I swirled the ink and bent them to my will, and from the words upon the page, my inky callus did swell.  

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Blank White Page

by Libby O’Connor I step out in the pristine snow and think, ‘a blank, white page,’ my footprints trail behind me as I travel onward, they punctuate my blank, white page -with essence of me.  

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