Home NonFiction - Year III - Number 11 - January 2018

NonFiction - Year III - Number 11 - January 2018

    HUMBOLDT By Thomas Larsen

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    HUMBOLDTBy Tom Larsen “Get the gate for me will ya, pardner?”He’s been calling everyone “pardner” for a week now in clear violation of the code. I work the twisted...

    THE LOSS OF HER By Kimberly McElreath

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    THE LOSS OF HERBy Kimberly McElreath That Wednesday started with a pink pig pancake pajama party.  In Kindergarten, getting a new weekly letter means a lot.  It’s another step...

    HURRICANE MOON By Tony Whedon

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    HURRICANE MOONBy Tony Whedon The town where we had rented our cottage that summer when I was thireen, called Port Clyde, sat at the end of a long peninsula...

    LOOKS OF HAPPINESS By Frannie Gilbertson

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    LOOKS OF HAPPINESSBy Frannie Gilbertson Do you ever look at someone and think, “Wow, I am so lucky that I have you”? You catch yourself staring at them, watching...

    I HAVE COME HOME By Antonio Wong

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    I HAVE COME HOMEBy Antonio Wong “It is time to wake up. Today is the biggest day and you do not want to miss it,” my grandfather said. As...

    HALF OF SOMETHING By John Ballantine Jr.

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    HALF OF SOMETHINGBy John Ballantine The glass is half full, even though it is emptying fast. Life seeps out of the body as we wake to another day with...

    ACORDO ENTRE AMIGOS By Desirée Jung

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    ACORDO ENTRE AMIGOSDe Desirée Jung Abro a gaveta e encontro um pedaço de mim: sapatos de uma outra época, cano alto verde, misturados entre alguns livros. Os objetos me...

    ANXIETY, TIME, AND BEING PRESENT IN THE MOMENT By Wally Swist

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    ANXIETY, TIME, AND BEING PRESENT IN THE MOMENTBy Wally Swist Time presses upon us in innumerable ways.  Proust wrote, “When a man is asleep, he has in a circle...

    DEAL BETWEEN FRIENDS By Desirée Jung

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    DEAL BETWEEN FRIENDSBy Desirée Jung I open the drawer to find part of myself: shoes from another time, green knee-length boots, amidst books. The objects scare me. Remembering petrifies me – the passage of time haunting. I cannot control my feelings. Before any...

    STRANGERS By Jeff Bakkensen

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    STRANGERSBy Jeff Bakkensen No one ever came to the motel without being seen a long way off. From one side was all flat with nothing growing more than thigh...