by Dennis Daniels Blanz Valentine is an average guy who works on an assembly line of Ford Manufacturing Company. He fancies himself as the companies counselor who has all the answers for everyone’s problems. Many see him as the man behind the bar that they bring their troubles to for…
by Maria Segure He was still now. I stared at him for a long moment. As much of a moment as I could bare. He was still. I could feel my anger rising. My irrational, unexplainable anger. And I felt helpless too. Because I did not want to be here….
Hundreds of writers submitted their work to SNHU’s 2016 Fall Fiction Short Story Competition. After careful review, our panel of judges narrowed the field down to these top 5 finalists. Read them all and vote for your favorite in the form below! Voting closes on Dec. 31, 2016. Finalist 1: SECOND SILENCE…
by Kayla Miller “What’s the matter, baby?” He taunts, slowly prowling the living room. He’s a jungle panther with metal claws ready to slice open my jugular, and he’ll try anything to wrench out my heart since I’ll never give it to him. My brown, yellow sun-face peeks over the…
by Emily K. Murphy Though I lived in the legendary town of Calculus, it was some time before I had the pleasure of having a dress made by the Misses Spratt. They were the premier dressmakers in town who served even the great Lady Taylor Maclaurin, making them well-known throughout…
by Kathleen Katims I am shy. In my Brooklyn elementary school, it is painful for me to look in people’s eyes, to speak up, to say what I am thinking. In every encounter people tell me they can’t hear me and to speak louder. In sixth grade the teacher asks…
by Vanessa Kristovich Three dollars. That is all I have left. After a long period of being disabled I have exhausted my savings, borrowed my 401(k), and have almost exhausted my disability benefit. I will get a check in about two weeks, but until then, this is it. I place…
by Richard Bentley You haven’t heard of me yet, but my name was once linked to a poet named Edward Starling. Starling gave me a brave name, some stanzas, and a few similes. Starling and I were ambitious. He wanted to be a famous poet, and I wanted to be…
by Carol Lindsey “Girls, come on,” Mildred Smith called. “We’ll miss the bus.” Mildred looked over the two girls bounding down the stairs. “Very nice, Evelyn. Rhonda Sue, where are your gloves? A lady never leaves the house without being properly dressed.” Nine-year-old Rhonda Sue pulled a pair of white…
by Vivian Lawry The first person who wasn’t there for me was my overworked, overwhelmed mother. Initially, her body betrayed me. When I was eight or so, she tried—again and again—to give my father the son he so wanted. What she gave him, instead, was a weakened, broken wife. She…