I hope he won’t turn the car around. I hope I’m not making a mistake. I hope I don’t do anything to make him mad. I am eighteen. I will soon be married in Reno.
Alone in Reno by Dot Hearn
Category: Memoir
Our archive of past pieces that are part of a larger work of creative nonfiction. Note that as of 2021 we no longer categorize pieces as “memoir.” We use only “essay” and flash” now. We kept this in our menu for historical purposes.
Asian Pears and Red Azaleas by Gwen Francis-Williams
There was no money. Not a dime to be found in any drawer, nothing overlooked in a coat pocket, no coins stuck in the corner of an old purse, not a hint of copper hiding under a couch cushion…
Burger by Jesse Waters
I am ten months from being thirteen, and have yet to hit puberty in mid-80’s America…. There’s a smallish blue-black bruise just below my right eye.
Gas Masks and Wedding Vows by Jennifer Lang
The shrill woke me out of my sleep. An azaka, one of the newest words in my growing Hebrew vocabulary, a continuous alarm with an ascending and descending tone, an eerie up-then-down sound, echoed into the onyx sky.
Southbound, 1975 by Katie Daley
Even though the train must still be at least 50 miles out, I can feel it chugging towards us in the darkness. It’s out there like an old friend in the night who’s got the means to come gather me up and take me away.
The Laundromat by Sandra Gail Lambert
I’ve known for all my Laundromat years to never smile at anyone or to catch an eye…
The Hall by Darryl Graff
Way up in the Bronx is the Emerald, a broken-down old Irish bar…around the corner from the American Legion Hall where the plasterers’ monthly union meetings are held.
The Sparrow’s Nest by Emily Rich
Mom started disappearing around the time I entered third grade: not all the time, just every once in awhile, every six weeks or so.
Gun-Sitting by Sue Repko
It was a Saturday morning … and I was in a community art school, awaiting the arrival of a handful of seventh-grade students in the fledgling PILOT program—Pottstown Influential Leaders of Tomorrow.
Body Warmth by Deborah Esther Schifter
I lie against his back, my arms tucked against my chest, and feel the heft and warmth of his body.
