A New Kind of Literary Pulse

There are mountains hidden downstairs
in my grandpa's country house
with craggy granite boulders
no bigger than a mouse.
Little trees of twigs and moss
hug miniature ravines,
where... [+]

Allison stood in line with the rest of her class, waiting for he school doors to open. Usually first thing in the morning was a quiet time, but today kids were talking happily—and loudly. This was... [+]

Bobby didn't talk much in class. When he did speak, the other children often made fun of him because he stammered. His words just wouldn't come out right. They twisted around his tongue like slimy... [+]