• 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…