Stories
Fall Contest Winners
Where my mom was wasn’t never far from the Myrtle Beach Days Inn.
Story of the Week
His mother wasn’t there to meet him at his stop. She never was.
Poem of the Week
The moon it is red, and the stars are fled but all the sky is a-burning.
Spring Contest Winners
Our ambition was a clawing, grasping thing. It got us out of bed.
Story of the Week
They are glorious pumpkin-skinned messengers. I hate them.
Fiction
The cat was looking at me with an intelligent expression. It knew.
Poetry Contest Winners
I could go in for some pie
why the hell not, there’s so little time.
Fiction
And that girls came to his house all the time, cheap girls from the docks.
iPoems
Sixty-year-old veins look like giant roots breaking through earth’s skin.
Story of the Week
Love speaks in silence, on behalf of lovers too tired for words.
Story of the Week
There was a shout, then a shot fired. I pressed the shutter again and again.
Story of the Week
She looks down the street for Scott’s truck. He’s late but so is she.
iStories
“We’re not like other species,” you say, a novelist at night.
Graphic Stories
Her family was still poor and hungry and scared.
Poetry
You’re standing too close to a lit house which could be yours—is it yours?
Poem of the Week
Hear the voice of life telling you something from the inside out.
Poetry
Where is the door that will take
us to the world where memory lives?
Readers' Narratives
After several months, I worked up the courage to share a war poem.
Short Shorts
I’m recalling his socks, the inked initials, the splashes of blood.
Poem of the Week
Like every thing made, the photograph intimates a view.
Story of the Week
“Who is it?” Irina asked at the door.
“Open up,” a voice commanded.
Poetry
Is that coffee you have, or the hell of fusion in your cupped hands?
Poetry
Is anybody out there? Nobody answered, and I felt archaic as prayer.
Poetry
The first skeleton drawn from the earth, they called beautiful.
