by Anne Eston I hold my head the way I held that robin’s egg when I was six. Unsafe in the nest Grandpa stole (he said it fell out of a tree), the egg sat. I took it, was careful… I couldn’t take care of it. Didn’t think it would…
SNHU Creative Writing Posts
Frost
by Bethany Veith You haunt the notches- breeze through the birches, soar through the pines, shake through quaking aspen, and echo through the intervals. Your spirit rises from the evaporator, sap swirling, thick with sweet fog sugar water dripping down the rough pine walls and onto my pages, comforting me…
The Golden Derby
by Michael Christopher Cole I walk into ‘The Golden Derby’ and look around before the hostess has a chance to greet me. Alec stands from his chair and waves to me. I walk over to him. He has a sport coat and tie on, which is fairly ‘decked out’ from what…
Holding the Baby
by Bethany Veith Exhausted, she arranged her hands upon the pink flannel blanket wrapped around her silent bundle dressed in grandmother’s ancient white lace Christening dress. Her misty wide eyes flashed and contemplated the absolute miracle and beauty of life and the cruelness of nature. Cradling her angelic daughter one…
Four Letter Assassin
by April Garcia Could fear be the invisible culprit hiding— like a Copperhead in dead leaves —waiting, to poison me before ink meets paper? Even now, it slithers unseen— though the recesses of this busy mind.
Is There Such a Thing as a Bad Dog?
As told by Oliver, the Bearded Collie by Carolyn Light Bell You wouldn’t know me as Scottish since I don’t have red hair, a tam, or a kilt. But my cousins, who look just like me, drive sheep up and down the moors of Scotland, rounding up the woolly ones,…
Orchard Summer’s Passing
by Bethany Veith We fought against the cold sweat dripping in August as we split hardwood and stacked it just so upon wispy grass and purple asters. The summers vanished like a dream. Wood smoke settled into the valley stippled with red and orange maples silhouetted against the frosted White…
The Weight of a Father
by Brian Howlett I can make out a dim silhouette of the first step in the corner of the church basement. It’s an eternity away across the heaving, sweaty dance floor – but as I look down upon my father I know it’s on me to help him ascend from…
Looking for My Green Fish
by Evalyn Lee “Nothing works unless you discover new things.” —Maureen Brady Looking at my walk-wobbled handwriting, I’d checked my notes to see how many fruits of the sea were on offer at the Venetian fish market by the Rialto Bridge. The light, at nine o’clock in the morning on…
Once Upon a River
by Neerja Raman The eighty-five ghats that form a crescent-shaped riverfront project a majesty that gives perspective to the vicissitudes and vanities of death unfolding in its lap. Janvi has read in a tourist guide that the city of Varanasi derives its name from two rivers: Varuna, which flows from…