CREATIVE NON-FICTION
ISSUE 5
“Self Portrait (1984), Jean-Michel Basquiat”
by Caleb Jean-Pierre
“Complexity and nuance is where the truth lies”- F.D.
Contemporary art comments on modern society. It challenges what is and what should be. It is a critically unorganized critique of the structures we set for ourselves.
“Then the LORD God formed the man out of the dust of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being”. (Genesis 2”7)
Split– Catherine ‘Cassie’ Hall
“Avian Promises”
by Madeleine Medeiros
Every spring, a pair of house finches return to our front porch to make a nest in the same hanging fern to lay eggs.
The female has a narrow little frame with speckled brown feathers that fade into a dusty rose-red at the shoulder of her wings and lead to a smooth pink beak—as if she were a tiny mango, a bruised mango with a browning, ripened bottom.
A Mother’s Comfort– Finley Dodd
“Enough”
by Miriam Da Ponte
I still don’t know if I should blame the weather, the seasons, the gloom of winter and the dullness of daily
routines when reality doesn’t seem to be enough for my happiness. Sometimes, I get to the point where suddenly everything is put into question.
Sunscape III– Sam Cunniff
“The Play Between Pages”
by Kristen Giebler
I glance over and see you there—“nerd necking” in your usual posture, completely immersed in your game. Your fingers move effortlessly, guiding you through a world built for you. I sit beside you, headphones on, book in hand, thumbing through pages, tracing words that feel like echoes of my own thoughts. Two different rhythms, yet we move in sync.
“The Roo”
by Kacey Veiking
It sits just off of Route 1. Its parking lot spills into the beaten dirt clearing that latecomers manage to squeeze their cars into. Upon entry, it can feel overcrowded, with people packed into every corner. You are lucky to find an empty bar seat. The chatter of conversations mixed with music fills the bar with seemingly no end to the noise.
Our Very Fine House– Kacey Veiking
“Lakeside’s Couch”
by Kacey Veiking
As sophomores in college, we were unaware of how much a used couch should cost. Looking back on it now, we were robbed blind. The cushions do not stay on; they slide every which way if you sit for more than five minutes. The velcro we used to keep them together failed miserably.
“More Than Just A Sport”
by Kelly Parker
Sound cuts out as I stand on the spray-painted white line.
I swivel my neck left, then right, as I closely observe the hundreds of people on either side of me. Their uniforms make up nearly every color of the rainbow- yellow, blue, purple, red, and green. I take deep breaths as I do one last sprint out.
“Journey to a Tale as Old as Time”
by Julia Prackup
Nostolgia is one thing, this was something stronger; I was keeping my younger self alive. I sat on the same couch I did nearly twenty years ago, curled up on the muted fern green corduroy-like chaise that was more comfortable at nighttime than during the daytime. The same tan quilted blanket covered me, no longer long enough to cover me toe to chin like it used to.
“Smile Like Honey”
by Julia Prackup
Honey at any temperature is warm, and at any age is sweet, and at any stage of their shelf life is smooth. It is meant to be paired, to be used, as a sweetener for the bitter and the bland. Honey is sunshine, a warm hug, and the color gold all packed into a jar for people to put a tablespoon or two in their tea or spread on a short stack of pancakes.
“Writing About Writing”
by Michael C. Denysenko
If I had to do only one thing for the rest of my life, I would write.
I had initially fallen backwards into it, dreaming up my own stories to tell that I had planned to tell visually, but soon found that the best way of sharing them was writing them all down. Now that it has become a larger part of my life, I can safely say that it was the right choice to make. While it takes minimal effort to sit behind a computer and tap away at the keyboard and reach a certain word count or page limit, there is more to writing than that.
“The Couch Cushion Test”
by Kristen Giebler
She always sat on the left side of the couch. The bad cushion. The one with the broken spring that jabbed into her ribs, the one where the cold draft slithered in through the window, the one where the light from the lamp didn’t quite reach.
It wasn’t a conscious decision—just something she did. In the same way, she always lets others have the better seat, the bigger portion, the last word
“The Space I Left for Them”
by Kristen Giebler
I have spent my life making room. I have shrunk to the corners and folded myself into neat, forgettable shapes so that others could expand. I’ve swallowed my voice like bitter medicine,
