am an English teacher, writer, photographer, gardener and devoted dog owner! I also enjoy sewing, archery and kayaking. It is my goal to build a writing career while continuing my work as an educator. I am also pursuing my Master of Arts in English at Kent State University and will graduate December 2015.
Stories and Poetry
We might’ve bought a mask at Woolworth’s twice in our trick or treating history, but mostly our costumes were either homemade, hand me downs, or thrown together from things around the house. Old bedsheets became ghosts, mama’s scarves were pirate’s bandanas, and her mascara became markings under eyes for solider or football characters.
Cynthia Elder lives on the edge of Hundred Acre Cove in Barrington, Rhode Island, with her husband and their increasingly empty nest. Her poems have appeared in The Allegheny Review, Dog River Review, Plainswoman, and elsewhere.
Lorie L. LaPrelle’s story of being a child and learning a new found fear. The story is one of misunderstanding and childhood terror.
Nkateko Masinga is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the author of three poetry collections: ‘The Sin In My Blackness’ (2015). ‘A War Within The Blood’ (2016)
Ann Bracken is the author of two collections of poetry, No Barking in the Hallways: Poems from the Classroom (2017) and The Altar of Innocence (2015), She also serves as a contributing editor for Little Patuxent Review and coordinator for the Wilde Readings Poetry Series in Columbia, MD.
I once knew a fat lady in Hollywood who played tennis with Paul Mazursky, back in the days when it took artists three hours to finish breakfast. Beverly and Fairfax was the place to be, sitting out on the sidewalk, eating the $3.95 special. So the coffee was watery. This was before Starbucks and the[…]
This poem was originally titled A Visit From St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore. It is considered the quintessential poem about Christmas and Santa Claus.
Anne Mikusinski has been writing poetry and short stories since she was seven years old and most probably making them up long before she could hold a pen or pencil in her hand.
I wasn’t comfortable here, I should have just said “no!” The house was abandoned, and from what Kelly confessed to me while driving here, made me angry.