Category: Prose

by Jules-Arden Bernard I haven’t been to that beach in years, but I remember the first interaction I had with that old man. He had his hands clasped over the wooden railings of the old lighthouse, his shoes, leather and oddly taken care of, were covered in sand, and his eyes wrinkled with his smile,…

by James LaForge The old man stumbled in the dim morning light to find the “off” button on his alarm clock, cursing his cataracts under the contraption’s blare. He stood up as the cracking of his bones and the creaking of his floorboards sang together in harmony. His callused fingertip met the piece of machinery…

by Maryn Anderson February 3rd 6:17AM I wish she’d stop trying to kill that fly. She’s never going to get it. It’s not her fault, after all, she’s armed only with an old dish towel, and the fly has the advantage of being anywhere in this entire restaurant. But despite that, it seems to be…

by Peyton Bortner I usually hate the feeling of grass tickling my skin, but laying on the ground tonight is nice. I can smell the pine trees standing guard all around me. It reminds me of Christmas, the joy of the holiday, and the promise of miracles, even if it is the middle of June…