Stories tagged nonfiction

The Hunt

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Cold, swirling wind blows defiant around our covered heads. The air is gray, the ground is soft with intermittent frost, the sun is waning, a bleak yellow. We march across that field of dead grass and dandelion, our dirty sneakers crunching the life underneath our feet with…

He is Seventeen

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What we all know and do not say is that it is not about the physical pain she endured so much as it is the fear she must have felt for the child she was leaving behind.

Old Flame

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The receiving line stretched into the lobby of the funeral home, which was decorated with faded Waverly wallpaper, dirty lemon yellow carpeting, and the kind of ornate white furniture I used to want in my bedroom when I was a little girl. The people in th

A Name

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I can still feel the texture of those humid Delta mornings, hear the rhythm of the voices of black children echoing down the halls. I still remember the sense of purpose that I had each day, knowing that this, here, mattered: a child’s education, their

Dreaming in Mink

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Kept in my mother's desk for years, the envelope yellowed. The glossy model went white in the creases.

Toys in Babeland

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Somebody says it's a good day to drop acid, get drunk, make love behind the Scattering Garden. I'm too old and weird for LSD but I understand the impulse.

Girl in 'Nam (Part 1)

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Licking my wounds. That's what my mother calls it. I'm not really sure what that means or if it's true. Sure, losing your boyfriend, apartment and job in a matter of months can drive someone to do something impulsive. Something crazy. But I've always b

Girl in 'Nam (Part 2)

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A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.

Dandelion Ghosts

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I pulled a lot of weeds that summer, but I also made a lot of wishes. I tear up another check and make a wish.


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On the ground deputies comb the back roads. Border Patrol scouts from the air

Safari Club, Estacada OR, circa 1979

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The walrus head seems impossibly large. She hoists me up so I can rub my fingers across his hard muzzle, play the whiskers like strings on a ukulele.

The Riddle of Steel

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This is my motorcycle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My motorcycle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my motorcycle is useless. Without my motorcycle, I am useless.

Arcana Magi Behind the Scenes: The Making of Arcana Magi Universe Ver 2.0

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A Nonfiction Behind the Scenes look at how the Arcana Magi Universe came to existence.

Arcana Magi Behind the Scenes: Writing through Music

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A behind the scenes look at how music influenced the writing of Arcana Magi Universe.

Arcana Magi Behind the Scenes: The Rule of Mana Ver 2.0

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A Nonfiction behind the scenes look at how Mana works in the world of Arcana Magi.