Creative Writing Commons^™

What Happens In Pinescreek, Destini Throop

The Oval

No abstract provided.

The Slide, Lily Soper

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Carrying Home, Emma Treut

The Oval

No abstract provided.

The Oval, 2017 - Staff Issue

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Wilde Ruhe, Anna Weishaar

The Oval

No abstract provided.

For My Next Trick, Trisha Bartle

The Oval

No abstract provided.

The Second Question, Jenny-Lin Smith

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Gladys, Emily Morrison

The Oval

No abstract provided.

The Oval, 2017

The Oval

This issue includes creative work from undergraduate students at the University of Montana.

Bloodlines, Megan Jessop

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Give The Dog A Bone, Claire Venery

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Hell Isn't Empty If All The Devils Are There, Kailyn Mercer

The Oval

No abstract provided.

Frida's Daughter, Myrta Vida

Theses

The purpose of my creative writing is to highlight a group of U.S. citizens still woefully underrepresented in literature proper: the Latinx middle class. I’m keenly interested in exploring Puerto Rican and first- and second-generation Latinx immigrant stories. Even though some of the experiences from these groups have been elegantly visited by writers such as Giannina Braschi, Sandra Cisneros, Junot Diaz, Julia Alvarez, and others, there are nuances to the Latinx middle class experience that are yet to be uncovered. Being stuck in the cultural, linguistic, socio-economic, and political middles in a country that has recently taken a largely nationalist …

How I Came To Dominican, Lisa Wagenhurst

The Tuxedo Archives

I remember like it was yesterday. It was late on a hot Friday afternoon in mid-
August and the sun was shining with the fierceness that August is notorious for, even in Northern California. Everywhere I looked there were trees and flowers and beautiful lawns. ~excerpt from short story

The Frog Pond, Valerie Silver

The Tuxedo Archives

Each January, the frog pond calls to me. I drive across town to the Discovery
Center parking lot, put on my mud shoes, breathe in the damp, leafy air, and step away from my everyday world. ~excerpt from short story

Sonoma County, Jim Metzger

The Tuxedo Archives

“It’s coming, a calmness of thought. It has to be.” These were often Tom’s words and most certainly always his thoughts. “The critical mass of media cannot sustain its frequency.” So for that we will be grateful, and for Tom’s final wishes, I am grateful too. ~excerpt from prose

Just Dial Zero (Excerpt), Megan Lynn

The Tuxedo Archives

Welcome to Paradise.

The scent of stale booze, fresh urine and dejection washed over her as she opened the glass door with a crack carefully patched by a duct tape diagonal slash. A small bell jingled above her head. She wondered where anyone would go. ~excerpt from prose

Paris, Cooper Scollan

The Tuxedo Archives

Oh to be in Paris. Paris, just like the movies. Just like the image. Just like the romance. It is as beautiful as one could conceive, and as inspiring as one wants it to be. As you visit the sites, eat the food, and try to become a part of this breathtaking city, you are left in a state of constant emotional tickle. But to be in Paris, you must try to act like a Parisian. Not a tourist. ~excerpt from prose

The Seven Forgotten Modern Wonders Of The World, Amy Fagan

The Tuxedo Archives

The Gateway Arch is the “gateway” to Saint Louis, Missouri. The Arch is a feature of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Park, and standing at 630 ft., is the nation’s tallest memorial. The stainless steel structure took four years to construct and was dedicated in 1966. Now, millions of visitors take a tram from one leg of the Arch to the top to get a glimpse of bustling St. Louis. ~excerpt from prose

A Cautionary Tale: Exploring Myths On Dominican Sponsored Trip To China, Alexis Mcbride

The Tuxedo Archives

I am submitting this cautionary tale to the wary traveler. Be prepared for some surprises and be open for new ideas.

These are a few things I learned:

1) There is no such thing as an easy credit.
I admit that it was naive to expect easy credits. I should have predicted extensive reading for class preparation, a trip journal that would swallow two weeks of my life and a fourteen page paper that would entail hours of research and writing. ~excerpt from prose

Testimonies From Ireland, Brianna Youmans, Katie Ross, Denise Cetti

The Tuxedo Archives

This summer, nine of Dominican University’s students involved in B.A.S.I.C., traveled to Northern Ireland where they worked with children and young adults, encouraging them to become “leaders of peace and hope.” ~excerpt from prose

View From A Hill, Jennifer Curtin

The Tuxedo Archives

My mother and I drive up Parnassus Avenue in the hills of San Francisco. Listening to our iPod, I sing along to “Gold Dust Woman” by Fleetwood Mac. Usually, my mother would join me, especially since this song is one of our favorites, but she seems ashamed of her weakening voice. The pulsating rhythm of the song enhances the nervous tension as we charge up the Victorian-lined incline. ~excerpt from prose

Not Far From Home, Serianna Pearson

The Tuxedo Archives

I flew out of the San Francisco International Airport with a group of essential strangers to travel out of the country for the first time. After a bumpy ride fully-equipped with a lightning storm, we landed in Quito, Ecuador. I highly anticipated this trip, collecting handouts and attending group meetings, but I was somewhat confused when, standing in the customs line, I saw two pictures: one of San Francisco and one of Quito, with a slogan basically saying “Quito, the sister-city of San Francisco.” Apparently, I hadn’t traveled as far from home as I thought. ~excerpt from prose

Find Yourself By Looking In A New Place, Christopher Leeds

The Tuxedo Archives

Making the choice to leave a very successful, established life in the corporate world and enter academia was an easy one for me. The opportunity to help students find some direction, to find a path to start their lives or change already established ones, was irresistible. ~excerpt from prose

Churros, Julia Van Der Ryn

The Tuxedo Archives

We are here in the middle of a country. At night I anchor myself to my husband as if we were surrounded by water instead of a flat, dry plane of land. I hook my foot around his ankle and breathe in dust and the smell of other people's kitchens. Frying foods fuel my dreams. ~excerpt from prose

A Mexican In Metropolis: Pensées Of A Summer Among Parisians, Carlos Rodriguez

The Tuxedo Archives

Aeroports Charles de Gaulle

How to get there from here. From San Rafael, take the airporter at the Transit Center. Get to SFO. And then take a plane to France. Fly into the night. Arrive the next day.~excerpt from prose

Sleeping Ladies, Rachele Ketchem

The Tuxedo Archives

Out of nowhere a man jumped out of the bushes on the trail a little ahead of us. He was balding, tall, a 40 something year-old with spooky eyes. Christine knew damn well Kim and I were scaredy cats and began to quote a favorite old horror movie of ours,

“Barbara! He is coming to get you Barbara!”At that point, Kim and I were giving her the shut-the-fuck-up look as this creepy guy wearing camouflage in the dark was walking towards us. ~excerpt from prose

Crash And Burn, Ashton Guasco

The Tuxedo Archives

My eyes open slowly as the paralyzing drugs begin to lose their hold over my body. I wake up alone and at first, I look around in fear; not knowing where I am. I begin to remember the terrifying events of the morning that led me to this place, this hospital recovery room at midnight. It had started as any other horse show day. ~excerpt from prose

The Need To Be Inspired, Jessica Curlett

The Tuxedo Archives

It is like opening my eyes for the first time as I step off the plane and new sights greet me like a warm breeze of air. This is the Golden State. The State people think of when “the land of opportunity” runs through one’s mind; home to both the red wood forests, and Tinsel town. ~excerpt from prose

Moon Love Valley, California, Megan Lynn

The Tuxedo Archives

There is a valley north of San Francisco where the moon shines her love. Mountains stand tall and proud, rooted to the ground, protecting the valley floor. The North and East mountains are darker, the protectors. They are covered with tall, earthy green trees that, on grey mornings, fog tangles in on its way over the mountain crest, clearing just before noon. ~excerpt from prose