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Full-Text Articles in Arts and Humanities
Shadowcrest Manor, Michaela Bishop
Shadowcrest Manor, Michaela Bishop
The Tuxedo Archives
A soft cold breeze flowed throughout the whole house, it carried the scent of the Sea Island cotton and seawater, taking away the smell of dust and stillness. Shadowrest Manor was to become our new home here in Charleston. The manor had been vacant for a while since its last owner had passed away and leaving no will or surviving heir, the plantation was shut down. The outside was a little bit weather damaged however, Father is having the whole house repainted a colonial white, the front columns will be a nice off white to balance the main color. The …
Looking Backward While Pushing Forward, Rebecca Elizabeth Van Horn
Looking Backward While Pushing Forward, Rebecca Elizabeth Van Horn
The Tuxedo Archives
“We’re so old, Becky. Becky, we are so old.” This palindromic couplet came from the ex-boyfriend I hadn’t seen in over ten years. We had been in a brief and mildly dysfunctional relationship ten years before that, back when I was twenty and he was thirty. We had remained friends after our breakup and, after a few years absence, regained contact through the contemporary perpetual This is Your Life-esque reunion of social media.
Behave, Gina Vucci
Behave, Gina Vucci
The Tuxedo Archives
Serve the guests. Don’t cry. Take your brother for a walk. Your father was such an incredible man. Your father loved you. You were his favorite. I’ll just let everyone else cry while I learn to live with this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Leave her alone. It’s fine if she wants to wear her red velvet dress from last Christmas. She can wear what she wants to the funeral. Touch his hand; it’s the last time you’ll ever see him. I don’t know you, but I can’t stop sobbing in your arms.
Eclipse, Cameron Almeida
Eclipse, Cameron Almeida
The Tuxedo Archives
You might find me at the end of my days perched on the shoreline at sunset. Some rocky overlook where the wind can blow away smoke from fire. The last embers of my life burn like a fickle memory in a nearby hole I dug, small licks of heat dancing in air brined with salt of the earth. Knowledge that these coals will fade makes me wish to have gone out brilliantly, a blaze of glory instead of here, timing the spread of painkillers in my blood with the increasingly aggressive tide. Because that’s what this is, a small beacon …
Wisdom And Superstition, Maribel Anchordoqui
Wisdom And Superstition, Maribel Anchordoqui
The Tuxedo Archives
Don’t laugh too much or something sad will happen.
If you see a bean on the floor, pick it up or you’ll be sterile.
When pulling weeds, always talk kindly to the poison oak and let them know you will remove them so that other plants can grow. Guarantee you will never get poison oak.
Life, Eamonn Mccarthy
Roses From Bolivia, Jeffrey Wincek
To The Lighthouse, Bri Wilson
Mija, Iris Brito-Stevens
Summer Of Love, Ronald Grossi
Summer Of Love, Ronald Grossi
The Tuxedo Archives
In 1967, with the news full of body counts from Vietnam and Sgt. Pepper playing on the radio, I got a call from my friend Larry saying “We gotta go see what’s happening in San Francisco.” It was the Summer of Love.
How To Bring Up Your Brother: An Authoritarian Guide For Older Sisters, Mary Morrison
How To Bring Up Your Brother: An Authoritarian Guide For Older Sisters, Mary Morrison
The Tuxedo Archives
My troubles first began when he arrived. I was 14 months old and my first look at my new baby brother told me he couldn't be real. I had to find out, so quietly, I moved my index finger to his face and into his eye, to see if he was real!
April, Stephanie Hendricks
April, Stephanie Hendricks
The Tuxedo Archives
You might not know it by looking at her with her luxurious black curly fur, rust colored stockings and eyebrows, white paws, broad regal white chest, white muzzle and blaze and crowning tip of white fur on the tail, a tail that seems to be perpetual wagging, in a medium slow relaxed way, in an “I’m just hanging out and loving every moment of life,” an easy way kind of wag for most people not in the know would just look at her and say, she’s a dog, or she’s “just” a dog, or, in a rather frightened, anxious, way, …
7 Things You Learn As A First Semester Senior In College, Melanie Carlson
7 Things You Learn As A First Semester Senior In College, Melanie Carlson
The Tuxedo Archives
1. Going out is fun! And exhausting.
You probably turned 21 within a year of starting senior year, and you probably took advantage of all of your newfound freedom. This was really exciting and fun at first, but after a while you just want a nap (and also to never see a vodka redbull again. Seriously, who thought those were a good idea?).
Mom's Gone, Peter Richmond
Mom's Gone, Peter Richmond
The Tuxedo Archives
The date is August 7, 1957. It’s hard to believe that almost six decades have passed, but a look at the calendar, not to mention the event’s subsequent loneliness, make it easy to confirm. A shrink would have a field day with this one! Actually, he did! You see, the date is the day my mother left this world—died, to be blunt. She was a victim of breast cancer. She lasted barely a year after a radical mastectomy was performed that was, only to the surgeon and my father, a sham waste of time performed mainly to make my mother …
Solve For X, Yvonne Bamba
Solve For X, Yvonne Bamba
The Tuxedo Archives
“But I’m not good at math,” I tell my calculus teacher, hoping this explanation is enough for the big, red X splattered across the top of the pop quiz he hands back to me.
The Lady In The Red Brimmed Hat, Anna Sisler-Latta
The Lady In The Red Brimmed Hat, Anna Sisler-Latta
The Tuxedo Archives
There is a place where the road rises up just before descending into the hollow of Olema. Looking right, one can see the sheen of Tomales Bay sliding all the way north. The sad half light of the November afternoon gives the hills and fields a muted sepia tone like a photograph you might find in your grandmother’s attic.
The Fabric Of Time Myth, Bogie Bougas
The Fabric Of Time Myth, Bogie Bougas
The Tuxedo Archives
Back in the days of Ice and fog, on a cold and bitter morning, when the snow fell so high it blotted out the low rising sun, Time came down from the heavens as a naked lamb. “I am cold,” she said. “Who amongst you will weave me a garment strong enough to see me through these bitter days?”
Some Things Remain, Deborah Aminifard
Some Things Remain, Deborah Aminifard
The Tuxedo Archives
It was raining the morning the trucks pulled up in front of their home, and the policemen, armed with rifles and batons, came to the front door. It was still dark when five year old Joanne, asleep in her bed, was awakened by loud pounding on the front door and a policeman shouting “ Maak julle oop!” in Afrikaans, “open up!” She listened as the policemen came in and began shouting at her mother, ordering her to gather her possessions, quickly, and put them on the truck. The door slammed shut and then there was silence. Joanne came out of …
Untitled, Bj Van Horn
Waiting For Spring, Bailee Christmas
Privilege, Adrienne Davis
Emperor Humanus, Daniel E. Stockman
Defender Of The Night, Theodora Pasion
A Lightning Bug, Deborah Aminifard
Take Flight, Jeffrey Wincek
Trying To Fix It, Alisha Ragon
Trying To Fix It, Alisha Ragon
The Tuxedo Archives
She was trying to fix it.
She walked in with purpose, and nerves on fire.
As hard as she tried to hold up her badass countenance, they could still tell she was tired. She walked with swagger, put distance between her steps. This convenience store’s law of awkward nondisclosure was helpful in self-defense. As messed up as she had become, there were still people here much more fucked than her. She said hello to the man at the counter, with lowered eyes. She avoided other consumers with grace; she simply stepped down the wrong aisle.
In The Beginning, Jeffrey Wincek
In The Beginning, Jeffrey Wincek
The Tuxedo Archives
In the beginning there was the Computer and the Screen, and the Computer was inert and void and darkness was over the face of the Screen. And the Author’s finger pressed the Power Button and the Computer Booted Up and there was Light on the face of the Screen. And the Author saw it was good.
Gil And Ki In Couples Therapy, Jeffrey Wincek
Gil And Ki In Couples Therapy, Jeffrey Wincek
The Tuxedo Archives
The office is tidy and uncluttered; tasteful and well lighted. The decor is mid-century modern with an occasional treasure from antiquity featured here and there: tiny bronze and terra cotta Nabatean oil lamps, Sumerian fetishes, facsimiles of baked clay tablets bearing cuneiform script. Other objects de vertu rest on rosewood bases or under glass on the desk and in bookcases. Except for a glorious Persian rug, ruby, topaz, lapis and carnelian in hue, the color scheme is muted and neutral. Dr. Esther Aalyah sits at her desk. She has a manila folder in front of her. There are colored tags …
F People Were Seasons, Yvonne Bamba
F People Were Seasons, Yvonne Bamba
The Tuxedo Archives
He and I are sitting in the middle of my staircase, squished together on the same step, our limbs overflowing and dangling off the edges. We have our respective beverages in hand—his beer and my glass of red wine—facing each other with our legs bent, contently intertwined. We already touched base on our weapons of choice for the zombie apocalypse, the sports and instruments and dreams we gave up on in high school, and whether our day was more like The Weeknd’s Can’t Feel My Face or Fetty Wap’s Trap Queen. Now, we’re brainstorming names for the future Alaskan husky …
A Story For Alex, Or For Me, Alisha Ragon
A Story For Alex, Or For Me, Alisha Ragon
The Tuxedo Archives
It was the whoring hour.
Ready the sheets and the lingerie.
Ready the moans and the delicious delights to be discovered.
Ready the bodies wanting and hungry.
Ready the minds, sore for distraction, aching for bliss.
Slowly the sliding of cloth, flesh venturing out into the open air
Hands gliding over the landscape of his torso; breath breaking from composure to ecstasy A landscape not her own. Breath not meant to be broken.
Rein it in.