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: Shloka Shankar   Have you ever succumbed to writer’s block? Do the blinking cursor and that blank page on your monitor get the better of you? Have you ever felt the urge to write something, anything at all, to break…

The deadline for submitting fiction, nonfiction and poetry entries in the second annual Tucson Festival of Books Literary Awards is 5 p.m. Thursday, Oct. 31. First-place winners in each category will receive $1,000, second-place winners $500 and third-place winners $250….

By: Shailendra Chauhan Pearl S. Buck, (1892-1973), recipient of the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 and of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1938, said the following about Highly Sensitive People: “The truly creative mind in any field is no more than…

The Shiva Trilogy, written by Amish, is a fictional tale of a Tibetan tribal called Shiva, whose adventures nearly 4000 years ago, morphed into the mythical legends of the Hindu God Shiva. The Shiva Trilogy (The Immortals of Meluha, The…

By: – Linda M. Crate always some errand to do something left forgotten spilling into the happiness of autumn, interrupting the peace; wish i had a broom like you could just zoom off and fly to mend any error with a…

By: Linda M. Crate oh, let me bee, i would like to roam free through the skies pollinating flowers with the butterflies – you are sweet with your hair of goldenrod and eyes so blue, but i‘m sorry i tire…

By: Linda M. Crate  i‘m just the girl that can’t let go holding onto things long since rotted trying to wish friendships back to life, but once people forget they don’t like to remember or so it seems; i always seem to…

By: Linda M. Crate  the sun looks at me lovingly peeping from beneath white clouds, and a bright blue sky pushing me to move on and some days i don’t think of you anymore; but on days like today you‘ve carved…

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…