he scissors are Fiskars, the only brand my grandmother would ever touch.
Reflections on My Grandmother’s Costume Shop While Anxiously Making Masks by Melissa Hart
Category: Essays
An archive of all of the personal essays we’ve published at Hippocampus Magazine over the years.
Wallet by Chris J. Bahnsen
The check comes with fresh drinks, and when I reach into my back pocket, it’s empty.
Hand-Me-Down by K. Zen ‘obia
The mashed fabric … matched hue to hue my own color, and when I put it on it felt like I was wrapping myself in me.
Black Alpaca by Jessica Power Braun
My parents came for a visit so my husband Phil and I could attend a wedding about two hours away.
What Strange Light the Setting Sun by Porter Huddleston
…they were not children’s authors. They were regular people, which meant they had no need to render themselves appealing to their own children.
In That River I Saw Him Again by Catherine Young
Endless streams of coal trains coursed in and out of my childhood in Pennsylvania’s Lackawanna Valley…
Scars Fists Watch Kiss by Jonathan Winston Jones
Three scars brush my face. Two visible. One hidden.
Precedent by Zachary Ostraff
I found the bunny by a fence. It was dead. I checked its body for wounds. Nothing. It just died.
Brothers In Arms by Jessica Ripka
It is the day after Christmas and we are about to drive to Connecticut in the rain to see relatives in a car rented under my name.
The New Pretty by Nicole Graev Lipson
I fall back on the greatest power I know as an adolescent girl, which is to say nothing.
