His mother laughed during labor, breathless, hair plastered to her slick forehead, and blessed his father for the cowl. He grew up in hand-me-down boots. …
Demeter by Emily Ward
Δημήτηρ She was born between the roots of an oak tree, cheeks sticky with April mud, elderberry juice glowing in her hair, and squirrel fur …
Bridges by Emily Ward
The National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh wasn’t prepared for us, for three teenagers drunk on the freedom of a day without planned activities and …
Three Rooms by Emily Ward
I didn’t learn how to tie my shoelaces until I was twelve and three-quarters — I was used to loving the mud between my toes, …
Ashes by Emily Ward
Charles wasn’t meant to take the files on Mrs. Conway’s insurance claim out of the office, but he did it anyway. He tucked them into …
Driftwood by Emily Ward
Barnabus Croft would be lying if he said his bones weren’t made out of branches. Clean branches, like the ones that would wash ashore after …
Thursday’s Child by Emily Ward
Monday. Badly brewed tea and a scone I should’ve eaten by last Thursday. My boss tells me I’m drifting. I smile, or try to, until …
Germ Girl of the Month: Emily Ward
Name: Emily Ward Grade: Senior This month’s Germ Girl is our very own Emily Ward, staff-writer extraordinaire. When we discovered that our high school dynamo …
The Austrian Winter by Emily Ward
The middle-aged writer began as usual, with two cups of coffee and a biscuit. It was cold when he sat down at his desk; he …