by Deana Wilson “TEN!” Dark. Too dark. Cramped. Stiff. Stuffed in like carrots in a vacuum sealed bag. Elbow in my gut; tangle of hair in my face. Carlotta! Too dark! Can’t see! Blonde hair on my tongue. Gasping…. “Carlotta!” How? Why blonde? How do I know — “Carlotta!” No…
by Jeff Eyssallenne A lazy lake under wandering ripples A breeze that startles the grass Faraway screams from happy children Rhythmic rushes from cars passing nearby Busy birds calling to each other A rock plopping into the lake makes me open a reluctant eye to see A young boy A…
by Friar James Augustine It has become one of our most trusted routines—porch therapy. Either sipping on hot coffee waiting for the sun the rise, or having a few ‘cold ones’ in the evening as Mother Nature falls into a slumber, we enjoy it together. The hectic rat race of…
by Brianna Kittrell If the moon could speak to the sun, she would commend him on a long day done. She would tell him that he owns her heart, and that there is no light when they are apart. She glances him in passing, though it be very brief, and…
by Chelsea Eccleston The smoke stung my eyes, making them water uncontrollably. It burned my lungs, making me cough and unable to breathe. I crawled along the floor unable to tell where the door was. Was it in front of me? Behind? I was running out of time. I choked…
by Emily Fridley There’s a proverb of sorts that I’ve read somewhere, akin to “God could not be everywhere, so he created angels instead and called them mothers.” Mine must be one of these. For there are few and far between that can even hope to be compared to her…
by Brianna Kittrell I wake up each morning and somehow remember less, from my father’s favorite song to my mother’s favorite dress. The moments of yesterday just barely linger, I try to grasp the memories, but they evade my desperate fingers. There are small flashbacks from happenings long ago, but…
by Donald Griffin I can see them, the dancers, over there in the distance. Men and women whirl around the fire their silhouettes mimicking every movement upon the lighted canyon wall behind them. Drum beats reverberate through the cool crisp night air, like a thousand hearts beating and pumping life…
by Renata De la Cruz Monteón Night starts; leaves, branches dancing with the wild wind while crickets sing love songs.
by Mary E. Kendig Mothers aren’t perfect — not by far. Some can be stern and uncaring — even “unpresent,” while some are so loving they smother you until you can’t breathe, Or praise you until you start to believe you’re completely and utterly perfect in every way, like she…