Nonfiction

  • Grudges

    I have had countless grudges over the years. There have been people I have given the silent treatment for three years because they exposed me about my crush in fifth grade.

  • Box of Memories

    You can find me inside the flower-patterned shoe box, where I hide the tokens of my memories. The birthday cards, polaroid photos, and even bottle caps represent my life and relationships.

  • Mexico's Government

    For you to understand and enjoy learning about the government of Mexico, this compares the U.S government to Mexico's government so that you have some background knowledge.

  • Delights

    Ross Gay, a famed poet and essayist whose works include Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude and Bringing The Shovel Down, is known for his essayettes of delights, compiled in The Book of Delights and The Book of More De

  • time travelers

    Write a short story or poem about a time traveler or time travelers. Where and when are they going? Where and when are they coming from? What are they going to do when they get there?

  • In The Heart Of A Storm

    The clouds churn in swirls, grey and dark. A sorrow that befalls the earth, mourning something deep and untold. A tear rolls down, cold and bitter and I weep for the misery of this darkness.

  • 2:55 PM

    The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity-clacking of the keys on the keyboard. 

  • Vermont

    I stare at rolling fields, watching the houses slip by. I look up at the mountains, noticing the warm tint on the trees that blanket them. It’s past 7 PM, one of the most beautiful times of the day in Vermont.

  • Rubble

    The school's rubble lay in front of us. We were close enough to climb around it if it weren't for that damn fence that prevented us. It was one of those wire fences that would surround a school's playfield, and it was covered by a tarp.

  • Break-Out.

    There’s no escaping. I'm alone..yet again. No one's here it's pure silence the room is cold, my fingertips are too. There's no escaping this state of mind, it comes around every month creeping on me and I can't break free.