Obsidian

By Sean Henry A hero is what he thought, watching the Asoles from a safe distance. “Awesome, they are blessed,” said Clay. He took a deep breath and made such a serious face that Iris giggled in amusement. He had become a master of mimicry. ”Things aren’t always what they seem Clay,” Said Iris. Clay…

1911

By Daniel Cadogan I never killed a man before and I didn’t plan to when I woke up on the seventeenth of June, but sometimes things don’t go as planned. I woke up that morning with every intention of going to my first ever family reunion and having a nice time getting absolutely plastered, yelling…

In the Library

By Megan Finsel She stanched the bleeding with a piece of silk torn from her skirts and looked into his eyes. They were shining like stars in the darkness cast by the forest canopy. “You’ve saved my life,” he whispered and touched her cheek. She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “Well,…

Germaphobia

By: Monica Tamayo   Dirty is my enemy The coughing and sneezing of others, sickens me. The sense of cleansing and sanitizing is never satisfying, But contamination is defying. A sick person’s breath often haunts me, Taunts me, And flaunts itself upon me. A spray of Lysol isn’t enough, A single drop of hand sanitizer…

Petrified

By: Lindsay Victoria Peters 8 cups darkness, plain 3 ounces shuffling 6 quarts knocking, loudly 2 tablespoons whispering, repeat until softened 5 quick flashes of light 1 teaspoon slowly dripping water   Boil the shuffling until closer to you, then quickly shut it off and let it simmer on low. Gently add in your knocking…

Hearts

By: Megan Finsel Hearts, like windowpanes, shatter, broken fragments on the floor, scatter, catching bits of light, blood-red spilling rays across the flight. Down the stairs, pooling on my floor. Is there no puzzle piecer present to piece the broken puzzle back together? Is there no adhesive with which to bind the fragments to one…

Staff Page

Megan Finsel: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts…

Breaking Promises

By Megan Finsel When he broke through the morning mist I cocked my gun, ready and waiting. But the first rays of pre-dawn light split the gloom and fell upon his face, and I knew I couldn’t shoot him. Now I was as good as dead. “We’re going to survive this, I promise.” he had…