A New Kind of Literary Pulse

You are leaving a movie and are mugged.... This is how you tell the tale to the people in your life
Mother
“My poor baby!” My mother cooed as she forcibly pulled me into a tight embrace ... [+]

I never learned his name. Never got a chance to properly thank him. Five years later and here I am, wondering if he ever knew.
Five years ago today, I was stepping off a subway in New York with ... [+]

The farm manager called at quarter to twelve with a request. The conversation concluded with the buzz of a dial tone, and the two laborers sat momentarily in silence.
One was a man of about ... [+]

The clock struck once. The man released me of my shackles and I was delighted! Overwhelming feelings of glee flowed through me as I skipped towards the cafeteria. Oh, how I could already picture the ... [+]

The conveyor belt rolls the can of gravy to the cashier.
“Hello, how are you doing?” she asks.
“Alright, just some last minute groceries.” I scan the store for the right follow up. “How ... [+]

I did not want to write this out. I do not want to write this out. That’s the difference between me and other writers: I do not want to do this. The therapist said it would help. I call bull crap on ... [+]

A rainy weekend was a rarity in Clarence. For most of the year, the sun was relentless in its barrage on the town, reflecting off the green surface of the man-made lake and the otherwise arid ... [+]

"Stop fidgeting. You look like a drug addict," Charles said, taking Elise by the hand.
She shook him off. "I can't help it. The band tickles my wrist."
"Then don't wear it." ... [+]

The crying was overwhelming. The sound rung in my ears like when the church bells sang. Laughter flowered out of Her lips, blooming into the jubilant sound I hear. Her hair tangled like a bird’s ... [+]

It was in late April when I first moved.
I’d toured the space before signing the new lease. It was a studio. Small, but comfortable, with a window looking out over a small street intersection ... [+]

My reflection is staring at me again.
Now I know what you’re thinking: “Of course it is!” you say, chuckling to yourself and thinking I must be an ignorant child, or perhaps or an elder whose ... [+]

My roommate wanders into the kitchen just in time to see the pancake tower collapse.
Well, “collapse” might be a bit strong. I like the word “collapse” for its dramatic value, the ... [+]

The books in the library are organized by color, not topic. It’s annoying for humans like Stef, who can’t see anything lower than red or higher than violet. She walks into the library already ... [+]

The first day of the apocalypse, life in Accra was business as usual. Somewhere, miles away, politicians’ scrambled voices were heard on rarely-used airwaves. The voices' owners sweated through ... [+]

This is a story of a girl named Chartreuse. She wore overalls with great big buttons on the front--bright, colorful plastic ones that matched her bright, colorful socks. Her socks were striped and ... [+]

She can hear a lot in the silence.
The surprise, for one, from her teacher, as he looks at the jumble of letters on his roster.
The confusion, as he looks from her first name to her last, unsure ... [+]

Your eyes are green like freshly sprouted leaves, Noah wrote as John Denver's “Annie’s song” played tenderly in the background. No, that’s wrong. Her eyes aren’t the pale green of summe ... [+]

Her blossoms open as the dawn warms her branches. “The purpose of this tree,” I sigh to myself, “is simply for the nourishment of animals’ bodies, and nourishment of my soul” A home to a ... [+]