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…
by Aaron Max Jenson
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…
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…
by Rob Simpson You can imagine what a group of sailors look like in the Bahamas after three weeks at sea. If you can’t, it looks like white skin turning red before your eyes and tan lines at right angles. It looks like beer spilling from solo cups, splashing poolside,…
by Sarah May Wilson Eyes are staring at me from the rearview mirror. Almond shaped and haunted, coal black pupils with flat, sea green irises reflect back. The days have taken their toll on them as each hard year has passed. These eyes have seen too much, endured too much….
by Melinda Butler The sun was a yellow ball in the sky, dipping its toe in the purple lake that was the mountain range. Below, a green ocean of grass that ran for miles. Samuel stood in line to get branded by his new employer. The Circle Bar X was…
by Abigail Robinson Amidst their thunderous voices, she is silent, burning with the need to speak. Amidst their thunderous voices, She is seething, shaking with potent thoughts she whispers. Amidst their thunderous voices, She is waiting, in honeyed patient words she sings. Amidst their thunderous voices, She is shaking, clinging…
by Laurelann Easton Jennifer tugs her blouse over her stomach, a part of her that has never rounded, and twists the peridot ring she’d put on in place of her wedding band. The band had barely lasted her and David a year, and now they sit together in an iron…
by Libby O’Connor Dear Mr. Frost, I do not think this path is wide enough for the two of us. There is a road you’ve traveled, that I’d like to tread; But, Mr. Poe, my rapid heartbeat is driving me mad with its unrelenting T H U M P I…