Featured Writing

Powdered snow on the ground

Snowday Elegy

by David Vonderheide I remember to the minute the last time I saw snow. My family and I were on a snowspotting trip to New Hampshire, crowded out on the balcony of our Airbnb in the wee hours of the night. A spattering of flakes, embattled with a wispy updraft,…

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SNHU Creative Writing Posts

Clanging bells

Belles Behest

by Antonio Eramo I wake to clanging bells behestand rush to places I detestI pour my roaring youth awayentrapped in “no” from yesterday to know thyself is just a conI knew her once and now she’s gonethe same paths as the day beforeI walk today and feel unsure

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Vinyl record playing over and over and over

Hotter Than July

by daria smith giraud My beaded bob clang like percussive clear quartz crystalsagainst the humming of taxi hornsair lifting my body on small brick fencesLeaping from curbed sidewalks into the air I loved New York in the summerTimes of music, drums in the park,rays pizza, papaya dogs and orange juliusNighttime…

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Neighbors US Postal mailbox

Midwestern Nice

by Khristy Knudtson The Midwest region of the United States garners a reputation that is unlike any other. Wisconsin, where I have lived all of my life, embodies airs of apologetic pleasantries in almost every interaction. This concept of “Midwestern nice” is a pervasive descriptor of the Midwestern people—it defines…

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A spider web with rain drops.

Saint Francis

by Brian Reickert On an August afternoon, on the fringe of a riotous wildflower garden, I crouched to observe the mortal struggle of a tiny green spider and a yellow/black hornet on the chest of Saint Francis draped in plaster robes, arms outstretched as if to embrace the world in…

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Red, purple and black abstract art

Permanent Ink (Ars Poetica)

by Kerri Vasilakos Words turn diamonds in these volcanic bones. I wait for the eruption. My throat has been hollow for so long, that my blood began carving letters in my veins, bruising voice into my flesh. My body rebelled against my fear, took matters into its own hands, seduced…

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An ocean wave crashing at sunset.

The Goddess of the Sea

by Kerri Vasilakos I felt the oceans rhythms and listened to the waves crash against the shore like a heartbeat, you didn’t know my body was part of the sand. I would hear your footsteps approaching and pray that you’d walk all over me. I was there for all your…

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A dark hospital hallway with a door propped open.

Absence

by Brian Reickert When I was thirty-one I learned the difference between casket dead and hospital dead. There was no composure, only a profusion of absence and that which accompanies it. My father’s eyes were wide and yellow, his face whiskered and sallow, lips cracked, swollen tongue, mouth agape. The…

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Sun breaking through the dark clouds over a city.

A Letter to George Floyd in the Face of the Black Lives Matter Trauma

by Daria Smith Giraud You See, this trauma is branded, #BlackLivesMatter— co-opted, a corporation with corporate donations. Ablack girl like me, will never spend or touch.You do, however see and feel its binding residue  its Black Magic Matter surging the well of tears frommy mothers’ mothers’ mothers’ injustice.  Blood-borne lipsof little white…

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Cereal and Fire

By Holli Harms “Cereal and Fire” placed first in Southern New Hampshire University’s 2020 Fall Fiction Contest. My sister wakes up in a room. She wakes and finds that when she tries to move she can’t. Her arms and legs are held down. Strapped down. She is strapped to a…

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An analog clock at 8:10.

8:29 a.m.

by Katie Stavick 8:05 a.m. I shut off the alarm and lay in my bed, contemplating calling in sick. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? I already submitted my notice, which sucked. “It’s not that we don’t like you or think you could handle the job. We know you could. But the person we…

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