SNHU online creative writing Posts

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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….

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Vote in the 2016 SNHU Fall Fiction Competition

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…

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Teak and Bone

by Bobbi Sinha-Morey By the snowy river, its surface of china blue, she lived in a mobile home, outside her door wind chimes of teak and bone. The strong one in her family, taking care of her mother and two younger sisters long after her father had gone. The scent…

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Deprivation

by Kyle Heger What would become of you if that buzzing little box were taken from your hands? Would your thumbs go crazy, beating a senseless tattoo on their own, or would they simply pine away to nothing and drop off? Where would your eyes focus? Would you contract nystagmus or…

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Early Morning Search Patterns (From a Helicopter)

by Rob Simpson Staring out the window, my senior year of high school, I would hope a friend walked by. When he or she did, I’d have an excuse to ask to use the bathroom, run my schoolmate down, sneak off to smoke a cig. Or talk about boobs. Or…

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Boat #7, Starboard, Or Staying Married

by Abigail Warren After making pie crusts, and sabayon for the strawberries, I washed, dressed, and walked up to the top deck. You were falling overboard, with a shawl on your head. I waved from the deck, hands ice cold; what else could I do? But go down with the…

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A Blue, Purple Dusk

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…

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Bearings

by Sanjeev Sethi Molasses mingle with soupcon of memory creating sweetmeat with your signature. My mirror notes the rufescent. I look for fleece. It teases me of the warmth in your woolens. Plastic is my way of bargaining with bridges that go nowhere. In this resume how do I wiretap…

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There Exists a Style for All

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…

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