Sunday, August 22, 2010


“Are you sure?” He asked, struggling to conceal the emotion in his voice.

“Yes.” She replied, calm and certain, like she always was.

He reached out hesitantly and held her hands. “There’s no going back...It will never be the same.”

She just nodded.

“Ever.” He said. “Are you sure you want to end it like this? After all this time?”

“It’s for the best.” She said, her voice gentle, as if she was trying to lighten the blow.

“Fine.” He looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment.

He directed a single glance full of despair at her and then he turned around.....and kicked the castle till it was just another pile of sand.

“Don’t be sad.” She said, patting him on the back. “We’ll build a better one tomorrow.”

Bio: Abhinav SapruEngineering student (unlikely but true), aspiring writer...Due to the fear of boring you I'm going to stop right now. You can visit Abhinav Sapru

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


He got off the plane and had the urge to kiss the carpeted floor. He thought better of it when he considered the amount of foot traffic the floor had seen, and that doing so would hold up the line and cause a distraction.

All that was left was to pick up his luggage from baggage claim.

He moved with a sense of urgency through the airport pathway; meandering through the crowded hallway like a fearless motorcyclist on a congested freeway. Or maybe he was more reckless – like the motorcyclist with a death wish.

He survived near death on the flight from BWI-Thurgood Marshall to LAX. His ears popped something fierce, and he felt as if he was having a brain aneurysm. The agony – which still lingered – would be well worth it when he sees her face.

But she wasn’t waiting for him at the baggage claim area, or at the pick-up location outside. He waited at the airport for immeasurable hours – even after she returned his numerous calls and informed him she had no intention of following through with their plans to meet.

BIO: A. Jarrell Hayes writes poetry and fiction. In his spare time, Hayes designs wearable expressions and various merchandise with writers and poets in mind. Visit his website: or check him out here


More cotton than you care to see.
There used to be time for driving,
for singing at the top of our lungs,
running, screaming.
Our legs stopped craving the feeling
of being stretched, pushed.
Running with mouths wide open,
tiny yelps greeting clouds of dust.
The field strewn with yellow buds,
a blanket of sunshine.
Driving, we wish we hadn’t forgotten
running breathless, to lay 
in summer-bloomed shade of trees, 
gulping air like water.

Bio:  Laura Rachel Fox ...  Her heart lies in the library, where she served as a Librarian for several years and discovered her love for the profession.  She is currently working to enter the writing field professionally, perhaps through the library, education, or writing.  You can view her recent work at