By: Raymond Greiner I awaken to the hydraulic whine of a trash truck. Nearby a massive waste incinerator emits a polluting stench mixing with the incessant rumble of traffic. Detroit, once a grand city is in steep decline with eroding…
By: Siddhartha Choudhury The boy was about three years old, and his large round eyes grew vibrant with delight upon seeing the wooden train engine. He tugged at his mother’s hand and said, ‘I want that engine.’ The mother of the…
By William Norris The lunchroom buzzed in anticipation of Thanksgiving. Don was first, his role to stake out our table. His eyes framed Karen Palou. She’d saunter by, wearing a tight gray dress; her mere scent brushing our appetite to the floor. Some…
By: JP Miller Looking down at the smallness of the world from atop a mountain will put time and distance in perspective. Iraq was a world away. And, in the light and color of the hills, the sky really put…
By: Raymond Greiner Chicago’s government housing project was built in the mid sixties. Aging has taken its toll, diminishing original intent of quality housing for those economically oppressed. Only one elevator is in working order and used infrequently from fear…
By: Raymond Greiner My name is Caleb. I am 16 years old and documenting my life thus far. I have no parents or siblings. I was scientifically created and live in a barracks facility among 100 males my age with…
By: Narasimha Sharma Veturi I opened my eyes to the frantic chaos of porters pushing my fellow passengers to come in and be the first to carry the luggage of the seemingly rich people. I was reasonably hungry and as I…
By: Maya Unnikrishnan She waited for him. He was coming home after 25 years. She has changed, not the woman he brought home .She had that unsure gait in his presence, as though wanting to be there yet uncertain. He…
By: Gaither Stewart Martin was one of those persons to whom unusual things often happen. It was unclear whether he attracted the odd events or if the events attracted him. What is more, Martin implicated others in the things happening…
By: Maya Unnikrishnan His face was crisscrossed with lines, deep lines that formed seams across. His shirt hung loose on his thin bony frame, He had a crop of white hair which contrasted with his skin weather beaten and darkened by…