Where do you stand in a world looking only for exotic names, skins, and avatars? Where do you stand when you're just bland milk with a brain and thoughts that do not fit? It seems to me the world wants bland, uniform innards coated by a colorful shell. It doesn't want bland on the outside … Continue reading Exotic Milk
Luther stands in the tiny entryway of his apartment and pats down his pockets to make sure he has his keys. Behind him, the last rosy glow of sunset slips off his window ledge. He’s going to be late. He snatches up the bulky portfolio that holds his life’s work— all the scribbles and scratches, … Continue reading The First Rule of Writers
I sit at my computer biting my nails. It's a bad habit I fall into when I'm highly anxious. I scroll through the screen reading submission guidelines and articles in Literary Journals and magazines. What is it about reading other people's work that makes one feel inadequate? I stare at the glossy photos of the … Continue reading Impostor Syndrome
There's a special moment-- like a breath or a pause-- between books. Maybe it's not even a breath or a pause, but rather a dangling over empty space. A loose end. Whenever this moment comes, I feel like someone who's walked into a room but can't remember why they're there. What was I doing? What … Continue reading The Pause Between Books
Maybe it’s strange, but I really don’t mind the darker mornings in the fall. There’s something cozy about the dark pressed up against my window panes, and the way it makes the light inside my house seem more golden. I enjoy the extended mornings because in the summer, I’m usually awake as soon as the … Continue reading Maybe It’s Strange
Gordy-- the cranky old caretaker-- squints at the moss-covered, rickety fence that circles Camp Unity. “Eyesore,” he says, snuffing through one nostril. Three dirt-smudged and wild-haired kids stand beside him in various attitudes of attention. The tallest boy with the tamest hair studies the fence with great attention. Its boards are gray and tall-- much … Continue reading Camp Unity’s Fence
When the rain finally breaks and the autumn sun returns, my heart feels a little lighter. It's comforting to watch the leaves sparkle in the wind and to remember there is more to life than just gray and dreary and dreadful things. Sometimes we need the spears of sunshine to pierce through the clouds that … Continue reading The Clouds that Muck Up Our Hearts
They hobble toward me through the early morning fog. Dawn has not yet broken, and the sky above the fog is slate gray and steely. Porch lights and street lights are pinpricks of blue, star-shaped sparkles high above the street. But the figures coming toward me are huddled and shapeless. Their toes seem to find … Continue reading Apocalypse Over
I wish sometimes I could just live in a book and never come up for air. I think of all the stolen moments of my childhood, holed up in my bedroom diving into worlds of espionage, 18th century Britain-- even worlds made up from myth, legend, and hearty imagination. I remember sunny afternoons on a … Continue reading Never Come Up For Air
We walk up through the neighborhood houses on the last warm October night. The breeze tugs at the fallen leaves lying in the gutters, and they skitter along behind us. They sound like the pitter-patter of a thousand invisible feet stalking us from the shadows. I swing my boyfriend's hand back and forth. We peer … Continue reading The Last Warm Night
Seeking Prose 