by Cheryl Sola I was born. Damn. Can’t anything go right? That was thirty years ago and nothing’s changed. Today’s my birthday, June 6th. Pa said my birthday numbers add up to 6–6–6. And because that number means the devil, my Pa called me the devil’s child, and got an…
by Grace C. Bennett To walk Parisian streets is to Sail with Vitus Bering, Rum casks loosed atop boards Stained with salt within vicious Blows of sick and yellowed sea, Pacific to Arctic an ill to poisoned freedom; If only memory In this case Were an exaggeration. The undulant expanse…
by Jason Spicer A man was shot, in the alley behind my grungy apartment last night, again. His bald pate bounced a stream of pleated light through the blinds on my second story window. No sirens or news crews, just muddy boots and forlorn faces—men who needed sleep, in uniforms…
by Heather Maieli That son of a bitch! She caught the punching bag as it swung back at her after her last punch, her fingers digging into the red leather. Its chain gave an almost protesting wail as if threatening to break free from the ceiling. She had been going…
by Sarah Leslie We were the only two who could ever get into your head. Jack convinced you I manipulated you. But all he ever did was flush away reason and stir up a rage. It was never easy to pick between the two of us. You and Jack went…
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….
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 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…