“Dad, I think we should install a fireplace in our living room.” I sat on the edge of the rocking chair—elbows on my knees, sales pitch ready. Dad sat in his green
My gaze turned from the swaying fire tongues in the fireplace to the phantoms of memories that entered and danced around the living room. As Thanksgiving was drawing near, I reminisced over the
What makes a hero? Is it flying? Laser vision? Mind-reading? Is it stature? Tall and handsome, slender and beautiful? Are they born with it? Is it character traits? Is it love? Compassion? Bravery?
We were enemies to begin with. I stood on the edge of the porch—front row to the show—bare feet rubbing against smooth planks. I gripped a pink plastic cup with both
Have you ever seen an action movie where the hero and villain are confused? Where the citizens think the villain is responsible for the good, and the hero is responsible for the bad?
A line of cars wraps around the brick building with green awnings and spills into the street, clogging traffic. Each car follows the next like train cars joined by invisible links. Customers chuck
I stand in the mulch, surrounded by the playground that was the backdrop of my childhood. I remember running through the grass and sliding down the slides, trying to keep my dress clean
“Tell us a ghost story, Lindsay!” “Yeah, you’re so good at it! Please?” The small voices of my cousins and I echoed through the tiny room built onto the backside of my
Hair flying in the wind. Trees blurring past me. Breeze blowing in my ears, and I lean in to listen to it, like listening to the heartbeat of a seashell. Saddle rocking as
Afternoon sunlight slanted through the window, warming the stainless steel counter and filling the kitchen with the sleepy warmth of a weighted blanket. Returning to work in the ranch kitchen after an afternoon
Runner up in the English Language and Literature Division Creative Writing Competition - Creative Nonfiction “But I’ll make it out.” That’s what Blaire told me, her fine cheek bones alight in
Winner of the English Language and Literature Division Creative Writing Competition - Creative Nonfiction The wind had been gusty yesterday when my kite nearly dived into a woman walking the beach. Little puffs
I’m a terrible artist. Truly—I’m awful. I cannot draw, sketch, or paint an image to save my life. But there are many times when I wish that I could. I’
I wonder if the life I long for is swimming somewhere among the stars. Something about outer space fascinates me. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I am but a speck in an
We sat in the middle of the floor like three points in a triangle. String lights gave the room a soft glow. We ate ice cream straight out of the carton with plastic
There’s nothing like turning to find only ocean. Everywhere. To know that it would take a day or more just to find land. It was a darker night than I’d ever
In a small West African city, dust clings to and thickly layers everything in sight. The impenetrable haze of harmattan settles over the city. Harmattan is a mixture of Saharan sand, smoke, and
A deluge of voices constantly reminds us that the world we see is hopelessly broken. Day after day, it becomes more apparent, and we can hardly ignore it. Yet we desperately want to.
The turtle tank gurgled softly in the corner of the classroom. I watched the turtle heads poke up for air before ducking back under the water. My seven-year-old self wanted to go swimming.
“Sara is so nice. I just love that about her.” “I like Lauren because she’s sweet.” “I’ve never heard Chloe say a mean thing to anyone.” I sat in the middle