As the fields are stripped bare, a family faces what’s left after the season ends. “Harvest” folds weather, work and memory together in a quiet reckoning with rural life, inheritance ...
A night in the ward where love and procedure meet. Grief, clipboards, and the soft hum of machines. What bureaucracy can’t name, the body supplies.
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A granddaughter takes a forbidden drug from the dark web to give her grandmother one last taste of life. Julia Fausing’s story explores love, risk, and the price of mortality.
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In this poignant, personal essay, Tom sits with his terminally-ill uncle, Baz, and explores life, loss and laughter, right up to the end.
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You can have anything you want, Honey, says Grandma, don’t mind your mother, who picks up her coffee and drinks it like she’s stopping a scream.
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Experience the cinematic magic of Christmastime. This flash fiction captures the interplay of festive pasts and presents in a timeless film reel.
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Unveil the emotional journey of a mother in “The Spiral and the Sticks.” Delve into the intricacies of budgeting, family bonds, and the magic that turns an affordable off-season holiday ...
“There was a lot of spite in our family.” A story of explosive grief and simmering tensions in a family who struggle to come together.
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“Too much simplicity conceals the hollows where what is unspoken lurks in the darkness.” An essay on family dynamics and food.
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“I have one eye trained on the volcanic mountain…” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “The Current Unrest” by Kaitlin Solimine.
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The magic of Christmas laced with the dark undercurrents of abuse and the past. ‘Nico’s Wish’ explores love, change, and resilience.
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It makes him feel the same as on the day it happened, but he never cries.
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Sooner or later, everyone has to hear their voice for the first time.
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On my doorstep a package. On the package no name but I’m pretty sure it’s from my mom even though she died 10 years ago today.
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If I call you, you’ll say, hello, I’ll say, hi mum, it’s me, Catherine, then you’ll hang up.
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Would a more loving partner have pieced the clues together? Should I have known? It seemed so obvious now.
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To me it’s like he’s holding open a door behind which lies a shiny new future, a bright new beginning, and all we have to do is walk through and ...
We swung in the wooden swing, creaking back and forth, or rocked in paint-pealing chairs while she and my parents talked of weather, war, politics, or relatives.
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I liked Ben enough. I didn’t love him; I could never love someone so whole.
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He drives a bus, he lives above a shop, he drinks cheap wine, and he is now alone.
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