Top Stories
New stories you’ll love, handpicked for you by our team and updated daily.
The Accidental Poet
I knew even from an early age that I was artistic; and to this day, that creative spark has never diminished. The problem, like many children growing up, was finding my niche. A specific art form that I wanted to associate myself with. So, I tried to search for it in different crafts; drawing, cartooning, music, making short films at home, or even creating stories in my head that never ended up on paper. Interestingly enough, poetry was not one of them.
By Levi Dickson3 months ago in Humans
the loop. Content Warning.
no one stopped. no one stopped and looked at me with care in their eyes when they found out. they looked at me with apathy and said they didn’t worry because my wounds weren’t as deep as someone else’s. they said they weren’t deep enough to do anything. so i went home and sliced through my skin and spent hours in the bathroom because the only solace i felt was in there. they looked at me and asked, why? i didn’t say anything, i could barely force myself to breathe. so they slapped me, again, why? my lips trembled, my palms sweat. how do i tell them that there are so many things creeping into my mind, into my head, into my heart that i couldn’t cope anymore, that breathing hurts, existing hurts, that i just want to be dead. how do i voice how much i want to disappear. so i say, i don’t know, another slap. this time it makes my ears ring. i pray they hit me harder.
By sumiya akter3 months ago in Humans
Is it Ethical to Use Bookstores as a Showroom?
There is nothing quite like the joy of wandering around a bookstore. I love digging through the shelves and finding a hidden gem. I love the smell of the worn paper and the background noise of other customers flipping through pages.
By Kera Hollow3 months ago in BookClub
My Mental Health Journey in Map Pins. Runner-Up in Maps of the Self Challenge.
I’m getting on an airplane tomorrow to go to Thailand. It’s my first time going to a destination wedding. I’m tremendously excited, but the act of undertaking a long journey makes me introspective.
By Leigh Victoria Phan, MS, MFA3 months ago in Humans
Scorpio Pig.
When coming up with a title for this, I came to the brilliant realisation that I am a Scorpio Pig. A classic and undisputable Scorpio (though the horoscope vs reality debate lives on) and a 1995 year of the pig baby. I’ve always liked being a Scorpio, but the pig thing took a minute. A couple years ago my friend took me micro-pig walking for my birthday, did you know pigs have a hierarchy system? Seriously. They take rankings very seriously, and as my pig Mr Darcy was pushed out the way by his superior, I found out just how serious it was.
By Kirstyn Brook3 months ago in Humans
A Hate Letter to Personal Statements
I find myself once again writing personal statements for grad school applications. Why I would do such a thing to myself again after so many years of not doing that, I have no clue. Perhaps I have a sadistic streak, an echo of my Catholic upbringing which manifests the typical emotional self-flagellation into a desire to apply to and inevitably get rejected from grad school. I could put applications in all day, don’t get me wrong. I love going over checklists and reaching out to old professors asking them sweetly if they would be so kind as to say nice things about me on the official record for Miscellaneous University and their Obscure College of the Performing Arts. But good God, dude, why do I have to write a damn personal statement for each and every one of these programs?
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 months ago in Humans
The Healing Power of Publishing Memoirs
Over the last eight months, I took a break from publishing anything new — apart from the odd piece here and there for a handful of writing competitions. And to be honest, after wrapping up the competition submissions and these past couple of years, trying to make it as a writer, I felt totally wiped out.
By Chantal Christie Weiss3 months ago in Writers
Frost Queen. Runner-Up in The Sound of First Frost Challenge.
The corporeal chill stiffens as Fall fades and air thins, bowing to the first. I cower cross-legged in dampness, beneath her cadaverous snow-mounted stare, for she knows I. The tremulous temper of blitzkrieg blizzards is nigh on this horizon.
By Edward Swafford3 months ago in Poets
