Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
in root, rot and bloom
Howard McFarland kissed the little crown of his daughter’s head and stroked the soft brown fuzz of her hair. She didn’t stir. She was sprawled in her crib with a…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Last Snowfall Of A Dying God
He did not feel it, as eons stretched and all that remained was the stardust in the abyss of the universe. He knew only the death of life - it…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
In Eulogy of a Pelt
I woke up in a cornfield. The first thing I saw were the stars. It pulsed - that dotted swirl of remote diamond light, flush against the abyssal black. The…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Dead Letter Office
Memory is like a moth. It flutters. It drifts. It finds an abandoned wardrobe of precious clothes to nest and gorges itself, leaving behind the gift of dust and scraps.…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Ask the Angel
“Ask the angel.” That’s exactly what Nina did. Her companion’s expression didn’t change from where he towered over her abuela’s grave—he stared stony and gray, with the chiselled edges of…
Posted inCreative Hall Poems
The Fervour of Breath
John Doe From the veil, birthed, I was blind Lost - from night to night - unkind Ash or clay, that clad my heart I did not know, the end…
Posted inCreative Hall
What Remains
The pigeon still watched him, that blasted thing. It cooed like a rat, snow white wings fanning out against the dilate horizon. He’s reminded of something sinister, unnamed and hungry. …
Posted inCreative Hall Movies & TV
The Man Without Fear: A Thematic Introspective of Marvel’s Daredevil
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen first made his mark in the debut of a comic co-developed by Stan Lee and artist Bill Everett in the 1960s. Earlier conceptualizations of the…
Posted inCourage Creative Hall Health
Blackbird Roost
The tap dripped. The walls shuffled. Thin and reedy, cement and dust flaked like grey snow with every elicited movement. The rats scrabbled and clawed in the distance, a writhing…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Damnatio Memoriae
Here’s the thing: The world isn’t fair. It’s goddamn adversarial, if you stop and think about it. Loud and messy and it rankles like sandpaper sliding across bare skin, grinding…