by Brittney Cray In the small, picturesque town of Cresthaven, a shadow loomed beneath the façade of tranquility. It was a place where creativity flourished, where artists found solace in their craft, and where the written word held an esteemed place in the hearts of its inhabitants. But amidst the…
by S.E. Denny Fri, Apr 20, 10:52 AM (20 minutes ago) Dear Archer, When we first started this project, it was just you and me standing around your parent’s garage playing at being engineers. All the greats start that way: Bill Gates and Allen, Jobs, Wozniak, and Wayne. There must…
by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
by Joshua Snyder One thinks, usually, that with effort comes reward. Duke and Lian expected a reward to befall them after their first summer, but success was not instantaneous. The reward for Duke and Lian, as it was with most people of the nation, was financial. They hoped and wished…
by James D. Mills There is a term used in support groups to describe a sudden onset of extreme emotion. When the dam of composure that you so carefully built comes crumbling down and there is nothing that can withstand the raging rapids of your own despair. The Grief Share…
by Amber Allehoff thoughts like polka-dotscircular and scattered.shattered dreamsa million beams of lightthat never mattered.
by Amanda Valerie Judd The oceans are a poem –The continuous ebb and flow of the tides,Stanza after stanza in the greatest poem ever written;Each wave a line, punctuated by dolphins,holding a different meaning for each coast it caresses;every word a grain of sand, spoken by the surf,before being tossed…
by Ivy Rozen This poem was originally published in Hot Pot Magazine. We ate avocadoson toast, in salads, with chips.We craved their pits.We saved them inventi plastic cups, logo fadingbut my mom’s misspelled nameremained in Sharpie. Tap water, lukewarm:only fill it half-way.Stab the heart with wooden stakesto hold it up,…
by Joshua Gessner (This story contains a dead body.) “It’s weird to see a dead one up close.” Those words felt wrong. All dirty and naked; they were almost like a baby. When it first comes out, wailing and red, pretty but in a gross way. I don’t recall Jane…
by E.J. Fawn A girl stands before me, donning a cobalt-colored dress. She turns to me silently, eclipsed in the typhoon of sundry blues, “Does this look good?” She asks me, hair fashioned in buns uneven. This girl is my friend, so frankly, I tell her no. The dress—we admire—has…