Kira Thompson

The hammer and the anvil lived together in a little forge. The blacksmith relied on the hammer’s power and respected the anvil for her unwavering attitude. The hammer and the anvil had

I’m more than familiar with how the rumor mill works. Good journalism usually stays away from it since it’s a slippery slope of hearsay and unreliable testimonies. I suppose, then, that

Ideas are physical. They float to the top of wells wherever men have thoughts. Over time, cities grew around these wells, and one’s daily routine consisted of gathering his ideas from the

“Don’t go looking for my tractor.” John Peters was known around town for being a very level-headed and practical man. He’d always have explanations for the strange things. Howls at night?

It was a well-known fact that Oscar did not like children. So when he agreed to watch his niece Natalie for an entire week, he spent the two days leading up to it

There are two common subjects of society’s folklore. The first is the city, an ancient method of civilization that humanity has rightly disavowed. The second is the Nomad, a traveler in ornate

It wasn’t entirely without warning, but we were far from ready when the EMPs struck major power grids and plunged half the country into a blackout. Just like that, early summer 1982,

Tension rose higher than the crow’s nest atop the Obsidian’s mast. She flew no flag, for there were no countries in this wasteland sector of space. Her only company was her

The prince awoke to cannon fire. He sat up and stared at the curtains over the windows. More cannons went off. Voices shouted. Something exploded. The prince kicked the blankets away and ran

It’s a dangerous thing, the human spirit. It drives men to achieve things never before possible and brings woe to the fool who tries to stand in its way. The human spirit

To whomever might be reading this, I pray you have escaped my fate. Documented in these pages is a tale of misfortune and grief that has sealed me within a cursed town. Should

Honorable mention of the English Forum creative nonfiction division. My father took me through the woods behind his childhood home. The air was crisp, customary for late March in the Indiana farmland. The