Featured Writing

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Exponential Decay

By Maggie Kennedy “The orange tastes like a refrigerator,” my son says,spitting out his bite and pretending to gag,and though I have never tasted a refrigeratorI know what he means. The orange tastes like the plastic it was wrapped in.And though I have never eaten plastic,the conjured smell fills my…

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Posts Tagged MFA

The Construction Zone

by Daniel Charles Ross Traffic sucked. Traffic always sucks, of course. The worst form of standing in line is in traffic. My little town, a suburb of another already small town, had found a chunk of federal road budget they had to spend or lose it, so they tore up…

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Crowders Mountain Foggy View by alex grichenko

Entropy

by Ilari Pass Dawn, the sun sliding above the mountains.  The fog floats on top of the lake, morning dew. Everything emerges, fresh and fragrant.  Insects burr, the campfire is almost out; hearing its sizzle and whistle means a man can leave.  A bird flies, heading to the lake, disappearing…

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Rusty Nails

By Donnarkevic I recognize the black balloons, the same kind used at the office party for my fiftieth birthday. Now sixty, I expected something more creative: black homburgs, melanistic leopards, caviar. I would have settled for farfalla schwarz (black bowtie pasta). Instead, I got first pick from a six-foot sub, Black…

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My Grandpa and Me

By Angela Carter It was a rainy Saturday morning. The kind of day that softens parents just enough to allow their children to wear pajamas until lunch and watch Fraggle Rock in numb silence for hours. Struck by the contrast of the utter stillness inside my grandparents’ home and the…

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The Yellow Line

By James Seals Someone suggested that I am the hyphen, that I am the dash that connects W.E.B. DuBois’s double-consciousness; DuBois’s beautiful concept that allows me to accurately describe my pain. I am the hyphen. Because I am neither Filipino nor American. I am the middle. I am the tick-mark;…

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I Remember the Heat

By Jeremiah Bass “What’s the first thing you remember about the dream when you wake?” Dr. Fischer asked. “I remember the heat radiating off the sand,” I tell him just like I tell him every week when we talk. “Why does the heat seem important?” “It’s so intense that my…

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Promise Notes

By Lynn Vroman “So, do you like the place?” Frank unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back against the dainty chair. “It’s a bit pricey, don’t ya think?” The sound of violins filled the dim room as waiters dressed in tuxedos pranced between the tables of diners. “Well, yeah, but…

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Hunting Season

By Lynn Vroman “Hold it in the crook of your shoulder, boy. The kick will knock you on your ass if you don’t.” “It’s too heavy. Where’s the .22?” “That’s a girl’s gun.” A string of tobacco flies from Dad’s mouth, landing in a brown puddle on the snowy ground….

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On the Importance of Writers to the World

By Paul LeBlanc Our daughter Emma (LeBlanc) just finished her MFA program here at SNHU and was one of two student speakers at this weekend’s graduation. For any of us who love literature or harbor secret or not-so-secret hopes of being a writer, I think her talk will resonate.  So…

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