• Nonfiction

    Winter Games

    By Martin Bargo It was 1986, and he did not fit any definition of a “good boy,” but since he was the firstborn child on both sides of the family, Santa still brought him a present. And what a present! The flaming, exciting, and futuristic Atari 2600. The console came with a one-button joystick and a cartridge. He connected everything and flipped the power switch. The old-school TV, which back then was just school, lit up like pixelated fireworks, displaying an outstanding number of colors: 128.             In the game, a tiny character jumped between chunks of ice, and every jump added a brick to an igloo in the background.…

  • Nonfiction

    Soul Roots

    By Cadence Cedars Beneath the sky where softness reigns,Embrace the call as daylight wanes.Come forth, unmasked, in nature’s fold,Share with the wind the tales untold.Root deep within the earth’s embrace,Merge with the land, find your place.Let Mother Nature’s senses reel,In her bosom, let your spirit heal.For in the whispers of the breeze,Lies the melody that brings us ease.Live in rhythm with her pure,In her symphony, we endure.

  • Poetry


    By Bri Ross I am Stardust, not cold nor hotI am the constellations of the night sky, bright and dancing among the darknessWith light, I am goneWith the Sun’s set and the Moon’s rise, I find myself dancing once moreI am the Earth, not here nor thereI am the grass that lies below your feet, standing never goneWith winter, I grow dormantWith the spring, I grow once moreI am the Sea, going and comingI am the River who gives your lifeWith the cold, I become jagged and harshWith heat, I bring drought and famineI am…

  • Nonfiction

    Ramblings of Place

    By Margaret Worthington DarknessWaking up in February feels heavy. Time seems like an illusion when you open youreyes to complete darkness after eight hours of sleep. My brain attempts to rationalize thatperhaps it is not time to start the day. Maybe it is 5AM and I still have three hours of blissfulsleep ahead of me. From December to March, my initiation to the day is checking the time andfinding in disbelief that despite the perpetual darkness outside, it is 8 AM. In December andJanuary, I approach this phenomenon with scientific curiosity. How much time is being lostevery day? How does this affect the wildlife in this area? Does my internal…

  • Nonfiction

    Whispers Amongst Pines

    By Cadence Cedars As I awaken from a night of camping in the Yukon wilderness, a chill in the air promptsme to burrow deeper into my cozy sleeping bag. Relishing the warmth for just a few moremoments, I listen to the soft rustling of the trees and the gentle caress of the wind against thefabric of the tent. With a reluctant sigh, I reach for my watch, its dim light illuminating the earlyhour: 05:51 AM. Glancing over at Alisson, still deep in slumber, I gather the resolve to leave thecomfort of my warm cocoon. Slowly, I unzip the sleeping bag and slip out, greeted by crispmorning air that nips at…

  • Nonfiction

    In Between

    By Maria Capezio Crookes I am often asked about my immigrant experience, about the things that I miss, the things that I don’t, and if I’d move back home. My answers have been a variation of, “Of course, I miss my family and friends, my people.” Or “I would move back, so my kids can grow closer to their cousins.” For many years I believed those words. After some time, I’d smile while answering with the usual polite platitudes, feeling the leap in my heart telling me I was full of it. Yes, you miss your family, but you wouldn’t move back, my heart would say, while my brain would…

  • 6-Word Memoirs

    6-Word Memoirs

    Wild souls, northern dreams, endless daylight. - Brayden Bluse Bless my clutter, tripping hazard wonder. - Athaliah Duby Today, silence is louder than bombs. - Maria Capezio Crookes (1st place winner) Nothing Can Stop me, I’m Ready. - Lydia Spethman Canadian maple leaves to American mountains. - Marianne Murray One more chapter, I promise. Really. - Maria Capezio Crookes Not normally special but pessimistically optimistic. -Monica Elliott I’ve replicated my DNA, what’s next? - Stephen Koller Bedtime was 40 minutes ago. Again. - Maria Capezio Crookes Sure it’s bedtime? Sun’s still out. - Catherine Benoit A big pot full of spaghetti. - Sami Glascott What doesn’t kill you almost does.…

  • Poetry

    Garden of Prose

    By Jordan Hales Your love grew with Me, and my heart Is covered in stars. Every wish of mine Came true with you. Love’s funny that way. A love like yours Could make a girl Look up and dream. Dreams of every possibility. Dreams of such peace. Dreams of utter understanding. A love like yours Makes a girl put Pen to paper, yes. Yes, that’s what you Have done for me. Such peace of mind. The space to grow Alongside you for better. Twin flames. Twin vines. Reigniting a spark destined To blow out. Space Finally, finally, to breathe. To write all those Words once locked up. Forgotten. Unused. Discarded.…

  • Poetry

    The Dark

    By Jordan Hales I’ve always been afraid of the dark. What a cliche, I suppose.  It just never sat right with me. Never alongside me. Always my opposed.   I try never to be in the dark without a nightlight. You just never know what might getcha.   The dark can be quite loud, if you ask me. Whispering turns to yelling. And it’s eerie, right?   It’s unnerving when I can’t see two feet in front of me. Not knowing what’s in reach, or what’s not.   The noise that festers in the dark is so unwelcoming. So… unhinged.  And that fear and discomfort? It builds and it builds, until something is right…

  • Nonfiction

    Break Up Season

    By Jordan Hales Spring is the time to reset, recharge, and reflect as the earth begins to thaw. The birds chirp in twitter-pation. The trees bud at the sign of warmth and sunshine. It’s breakup season. Dirt and rocks and salt and trash galore. Spring is a sign of hope, or it’s supposed to be, anyway. The darkness is enveloped by light. Pushing it back, back, back. Spring is a refresh, or it’s supposed to be, anyway. Spring is a reflection.    Reflection on everything over the years, not just the past year. January to March is a tricky time. Is? Was? It’s hard to tell—ask me again tomorrow. Memories are…