Category Archives: CREATIVE NONFICTION

CREATIVE NONFICTION (1000 WORDS OR MORE)

No Business

No Business

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Forty-seven-year-olds got no business dating thirty-four-year-olds. But at this point, you have no idea he’s only thirty-four. You sense he’s probably younger than you, but y’all had the Inspector Gadget moment, and melanin is a bitch for age identification. You want a man, but you don’t want to rob the cradle. The apps suck, but at least they provide basic information, like education, location. Age.more

Cigarettes

Cigarettes

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Ms. Amy didn’t even know why she was sayin all that to our English class. But we knew what she meant by it. At least, I did. She was just feeling happy how her daddy loved her for whatever reason. That was it. And she was trying to tell us about that love and about not getting hooked on any kind of substances, and she was trying to say we can win our battles sometimes, if we keep showin up.more

Try

Try

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When you’re battling addiction, they teach you not to share war stories—to not live in those because they feed the worst parts of ourselves. I’ve never walked the twelve steps so it became easier to live in the worst of it than work the shovel to get out of it. It became so easy to hate.more

Boys in the Hall

Boys in the Hall

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That morning, we all nodded and chuckled, smug in our assessment that the pilot of that first airplane screwed up. Tragic, but not much different than a navigational error that ran a ship aground. It was unfortunate, certainly, as lives were undoubtedly lost. But heads would roll, and we’d move on.more

Contemporary Parenting

Contemporary Parenting

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The father preferred to talk about nature, about ideas, but neither of his kids were old enough for that now, so he found himself talking about overdoses.more

Jimmy

Jimmy

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Jimmy was not a person I would have considered having sex with. We had a symbiotic relationship in which all parties benefited except everyone else in the class. I can only imagine how cringy it was to witness, but in a room full of mirrors, it’s easy to trust no one else is looking at you.more

Uncle Alberto Hates His Job

Uncle Alberto Hates His Job

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I like driving; he once told me you can go anywhere. He still had curly hair, mostly grey, and a mustache, which I think he dyed. He wore pointy shoes but no shiny clothing anymore. Just the dullness, the creases in his face hardening. The loathing of everything and everyone dampened only by the hard ache of time.more

August comes to city and country

August comes to city and country

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You are bound for the neighbor’s horse barn where we can talk about artificial knees and hips and dropping dead and the dog sleeps with fluttering hunt eyes and the cat blinks watchfully from the little window ledge looking wise about nothing at all.more

Ghost Disco

Ghost Disco

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After the fact, I think it’s normal to catalog the things I didn’t have time to say to you. This kind of thinking forms a common self-soothing refrain: oh, yes, everyone must feel this way. Move along, rubberneckers. No tragedy here. more

Song as Epitaph

Song as Epitaph

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He came to know home was about time, not place. Before saying goodbye, his slippage stark, The Thinker with Rodin’s muscle wasted, eyes sad when not closed, close to warm blood and nerves’ end, he hoarsely spoke of that girl.more