by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
by Jeanne Althouse I was born in a hallway. My pregnant Mother had lovely brown hair curled in the style of Ingrid Bergman in the movie Casablanca. She defined her lips with dark red from a stick, her nose with loose white powder she stored in a gold case and…
by Brianna Kittrell She greets you at birth, and you cry in her presence, still she becomes a part of your essence. She sways with the trees and rustles the leaves, and her beauty deserves more praise than it receives. Though she is giving and kind, she is often taken…