
Poem: Pancakes
By Karlie Mickanuik Every Sunday since I could remember we had pancakes As a child it was a treat; the
By Karlie Mickanuik Every Sunday since I could remember we had pancakes As a child it was a treat; the
By Orrin Farries My name is Les and my life is good. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself.
By Nicholas Hotte I managed to duck into cover at the last second. The two other men started shooting. Marco
By Orrin Farries Living in a small town is soul-draining. Everyone knows everyone. No sin is too small to be
By Nicholas Hotte “You son of a bitch!” The three men turned to me. “Who the hell is he!” Two
By Nicholas Hotte As I got on my horse, I realized that Carson was still in his room. I rushed
By Marco Madron I stand upon the stage A soldier of speech. Bullets for words, A dagger Of amplification It’s
By Nicholas Hotte “I’m sorry Jhin,” I said as I got on my horse. I needed to do this alone,
By Nicholas Hotte My life changed after that day. I was no longer alone in this small world. We never
Trinity is a world different from ours. 10 per cent of the population has abilities called scribes and are able