Featured Writing

A pair of hands hold up a black book.

A Statement on Religion

By James Croal Jackson Perhaps divinity is in devotion– pages of textover thousands of years, eternal ramblingin the clockwork ticking the days to etch instone the wings I’d searched away, blindfaith in running water, erosion of the endlessnights I’d stay awake to eke out meaning.

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Fiction Posts

A person reading a book with face obscured.

Wallflower

By Aynsley Meshanic The phone rang next to her. Wendy closed her eyes, the words of Anthony Burgess now blocked from her view. (Story: A Clockwork Orange. Times read: 2. Times read understanding the language: 1. …Maybe). She took three deep breaths, trying to stop any slight tug on her…

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School hallway lined with red lockers

Making Weight

By Brittany L. McCann (This story contains disordered eating.) The numbers on the digital scale blur through my watery eyes as the Birthday Song is belted out in a possible worst signing voice contest down the hall. I wipe the back of my arm across my eyes and stare down…

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An open road extending into the horizon

A Renaissance Among Scorpions

By Jason Weiland You can almost make out the color of my 1970 AMC Gremlin and the patina of the sun-baked paint combining into a shade that can only be described as puke-yellow. I’m stuck here and haven’t moved since dawn. Car’s pointed west, sure enough. A stretch of Route 66…

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Yellow/orange vintage VW Beetle parked outside a brick building

Three Climbs

By Sam Grieve Honeymouth The first climb he suggests starts on the Pipe Track. She meets him near the lower cable station. This is before the cable car is redone, before the city reintroduces itself to the world. The old cable car is a rectangular, white box. A thousand feet…

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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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A page from a yearly calendar

Every Year

By Hannah Meade My fiancé, Brian, died exactly five years ago today. Five whole years have already passed and still, I feel the heart-wrenching sadness I felt on the day he died. I find myself snuggling back up in my grey sheets, wanting a few more minutes of peace before…

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sunlight creeps through venetian blinds into a dark room

Unseen

By Anikah Burge It started out like any typical day would for me. As Mama made lunch in the next room, I watched the world through the only window I was allowed to look through. I never grew tired of the view. We lived next to and across from many…

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African Americans Didn’t Exist in the 1960s

by Bradley J. Scott, III Across the road from Mee Maw’s house, gray mist rose above the cornfield. That cool mist covered my face on what normally became an unbearable July day. Now a city boy, it was something I hadn’t felt in quite some time. Nor had been sitting…

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A paper origami bird hanging from a string

Tender

by Elizabeth Christopher Sylvie’s done with worry. She clicks off the ten o’clock news, thinking what a relief it is to be done with it, like a cool current rolling under the skin. Their kids are grown and gone. Their youngest didn’t turn out to be soft in the head….

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Sugar cane being processed for juice

Sita, Govinda and Me

by Peter Breyer Who loved me more, Sita or Govinda? The thought consumed me as I exited the Pan Am Clipper in Bombay. The air was so thick that it smelled. I walked into the terminal with large, swirling fans hanging from the dirty ceiling above. Counters were piled high…

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