“We really don’t get enough of those timeless little boxes. Customers are asking for them all year long.” Continue reading Local Goodwill asks for more Heart-Shaped Tins
Some days, I feel like a sculptor sat in front of ash asked to build a figurine. So I stand there, spitting into dirt, pressing dusty clods together with my fingertips praying I’ll make art. But I can’t. There is … Continue reading On writing
Three sheets to the wind with no boat and no gin. Can’t be a pirate, when you’re landlocked by sin. The sirens sound And you hold your ground Until the spoils you’ve hidden are suddenly found. The waves crash against … Continue reading Sailing
How long will it take until you bore a hole in my back?
How many of your tiny, fiery pellets does it take,
pelting my bare skin like machinegun fire? Continue reading Dear Shower
A little worn around the corners, rough around the edges, and in some spots, you’re splitting at the seams, but you seem to hug me in all the right places even though you’re a bit oversized I think it’s kinda stylish. And how could I expect a thrift store find to have a perfect fit? I’m not saying that you’re cheap, but we all feel a little used sometimes. Continue reading Jacket
“Why are you smoking so fast? Enjoy it,” Katerina said. She took the hand-rolled cigarette from me and took a drag. The tip glowed briefly as she inhaled. I watched the orange flecks of light circulate between the tufts of tobacco. She lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and gracefully exhaled a slender train of smoke. She smiled and handed the cigarette back to me.
The Challenge: Write a complete story in 26 sentences, each sentence beginning with a sequential letter of the alphabet. In other words, the first sentence starts with A, the second with B, the third with C and so on. Continue reading Creative Writing Challenge: The Alphabet Game (Thea)
I was standing on the balcony of my grandmother’s seventh-floor flat in Athens breathing in the air that felt like the armpit of the hottest part of the day: 2 p.m. The white tile and gray grout flooring reflected a flat pang of harsh sunlight into my eyes. The bright ground made my feet look dark and dirty. The tan lines from my sandals led from one chapped little blister to the next down the sides of my feet. People walked here so much; I should have brought different shoes.
We kissed like we had a thousand times before – mouths moving in tandem, sharing a space that only existed between our pressed lips. It felt like home. I caressed my hand down your cheek. Just a few atoms of my fingertips grazed the fibers of your dark beard. I looked into your eyes like I had a thousand times before. It felt like home. Then you said,
“What are you doing?”
by Thea Voutiritsas
It was my first day of high school in a new town. In the sweltering Midwestern heat, I chose my most proper 2009 outfit: jean cutoff shorts, and my favorite tee shirt. It was a navy blue Gildan tee with my old taekwondo academy’s plastisol logo on the back, and a tiny pocket logo on the front to match. Foolproof, I thought.