Category: Nonfiction

On September 11th, 1973, Chile was violently introduced to a dictatorship that would last for about 17 years…click to read more.

~1~ Cottonwood Whispers March, first buds of the cottonwood appear. Sandspit Beach at Kokanee Creek: iolite blue glacier-fed lake and sixty feet of sandy ribbon-like shores. I walk the line between icy liquid and tiny crystals. Two dogs, at first friendly, pick a fight. One of the men yells to break up the canines vying

Before I had a say in the matter, my weekends were dedicated to being with her. The quaint apartment became my part-time home. As years past, our adoration for one another grew stronger…Click to read more.

(Written by Shelby Rosen)

Somewhere in our hopeful hearts we believe the hero should get the girl, bravery should win, and the hardest worker should get rich. Then, we read a tragic little tale like Cormac McCarthy’s ‘All the Pretty Horses’…Click to Read more.

(Written by Ella Soleil Parcels)

My cat was the baddest cat on the block. She was not afraid to use her nine lives…Click to read more. (Written by Riley Polovnikoff).

Going into this interview with Tom, I knew I would learn a lot, but I never could have predicted how enlightening and entertaining my time with Tom would really be…Click to read more. (An interview by Sam Smith)

It’s a crazy thing, really. A miracle that any of us survive.
The first words I uttered to my newborn son were, “Good Dog”… Click to read more (Written by Allison Alder)

I was born in 1963, snuggled between the voluptuousness of Marilyn Monroe and the androgyny of Twiggy…Click to read more. Written by Christine Deynaka

It had been several days since I had eaten and my hands had began to shake with a malnourished tick…Click to read more. Written by Flood

The directions were methodical: Drive down one street, turn at another, then another, then go down a dirt lane, park my car just so. Then I was to enter a gate, traverse a yard, and find a mysterious red door…
Written by Stephenie Hendricks

I put on my green fatigues and lace up my army boots to take my post. I am on the graveyard shift in the command post tent; I take up my earned leadership position. As I check the time, I read to myself 0200 hours…
Written by Kurt Luchia

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg is on the table. You pack it. The books go in boxes. Clothes in duffels. Two boxes. Two duffels. A dog. A cat. Totality of belongings. You put it all into the ‘86 Ford and say goodbye to the place you moved to, to become a writer…
(Written by Beth Oldham)