Creative Non-Fiction

Kind Flavors

I spent the majority of my childhood living with my mother and my three siblings. My mother was a single parent to us, so my family experienced our fair share of the ups and downs that come along with a lack of resources due to a single income.

Creative Non-Fiction

Church Community Casserole

I knew everything there was to know about that place. We practically lived there.

Creative Non-Fiction

Osh Potato Pie

When I was thirteen years old, at the insistence of my stepfather, my mother made a pie such that I’d never heard of and was determined...

Creative Non-Fiction

War from My View

I met my husband in ninth grade. The week we met he told me he was going to marry me. Ten years later, we walked down the aisle. The year...

Poetry

Training

Elbows scratch – my position is locked. At my level I spy boots, sand, tuft grass.

“Two dollars or I’m walking,” the old man said.

Rearrange and Parley want to hear your stories about food!

To celebrate and remember our military on Veteran's Day, Parley and Rearrange are hosting a writing contest this fall for PPCC students in...

Moon receive me, Though the sun touched me with love.

Creative Non-Fiction

Stages of the Butterfly

“Do you ever have an original thought, ever?” His voice was loud and I imagined the look on her face as I listened outside of their...

Have you ever noticed?

She could see it, James and Lily playing, running around the backyard like a pair of best friends, separated and now finally back together....

Poetry

Mourning

Dry, heat, wind, sand, scouring Sun-blinded we stand

When the leaves flee their branches, and the smell of wood smoke begins to travel on a cold north wind, you become acutely aware of the...

In the midst of a blistering slum, Kamala pulls the threadbare sheet to the side.

Poetry

The Wave

We paint this picture To remember.

Creative Non-Fiction

A Little Girl Remembers

My family lived in a small brick and stucco house just minutes from the Mississippi River front and downtown Memphis. Our community was...

Poetry

Freedom

My country, 'tis of thee I scream to those who pass me by.

Poetry

Untitled

the bus is always late this time of day.

Creative Non-Fiction

A Boy and His Pew

A valley, absent of people, divides bodies of water. Directing my feet east, a chimney stands, a widow from its home. Sanctuary embraced,...

Poetry

Diabetes

My mother pricks her finger. Dinner’s almost ready—halftime, our team losing again, and now her rosemary potatoes will be our...

“Things like that never happen to people like us” is the belief I cling to in the face of trouble, adversity, or any situation that...

Creative Non-Fiction

Initial Impact

Editors' Column

Creative Non-Fiction

Out of the Fire

Dean Carol Jonas-Morrison's email to family during the Waldo Fire.

Creative Non-Fiction

Learning Why to Write

One of the earliest experiences with writing that I can remember is writing my name. I remember because in second grade every time I’d...

Creative Non-Fiction

It is Art

"I propose that videogames are not mindless violence-celebrating garbage but in fact a fully-fledged art form."

Fiction

Rare

From the moment he met her, Arthur Davies began having second thoughts about online dating.

Time has stopped moving. I mean, it feels like it has.

Poetry

Margo

Poem for a beloved daughter.

Edward Francis Witherspoon spent the last three minutes of his life -- and a good deal of his death -- in a casket of his own design, as...

Then the duck paintings sold, and the gun safe, the cheap dishes and the Rubbermaid bin I found his journals stacked inside.