Fiction Commons^™

War, Zachary M. Alley

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Prejudice, Jordan Harms

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Don't Tell Mom, Casey Freeman

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Liquored Love, Casey Freeman

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Control; Darkroom, Chris Hudson

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Winter Of Memories, Jacob Grayson

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

The Interview, Audrey Schroeder

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

The Accident, Hanna Hollis

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Cabin Pressure, Zachary M. Alley

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Toilet Paper, Brenna Swoboda

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Wishful Thinking, Zachary M. Alley

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Stranger In The Forest, Audrey Schroeder

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Taylor Mali Quote, Audrey Schroeder

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Chicken Line Art, Jennifer Mullen

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Arrow Rock, 2013-2014, Full Issue

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Untitled, Chris Hudson

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Bird Line Art, Jennifer Mullen

Arrow Rock

No abstract provided.

Nine Exits: A Collection Of Short Stories, Tracie Renée Dawson

Master's Theses

Nine Exits is a collection of fiction and nonfiction written over the span of two years in workshops provided by the Center for Writers.

Volume 10, Issue 1: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the November 1942 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by: Patricia Sylvester, Lucy Kaufman, Richard Moores, Janet Jarrett, Mary Margarette Schortemeier, Virginia Skidmore, Jeanne Gass, Jeane Siskel, Bob Dyer, Thomas Haynes, William Roberts, Nancy Rodecker, Doris Daley, W. S. McLean, Peggy O'Donnell, Dorothy Masters, Ann Holloway, Dick Runnels, Lois Jean Shipley, Mary Elizabeth Donnell, Don Griffith, and Betty Alice Hodson.

Excerpts

Manuscripts

Excerpts from freshman themes by authors:Robert Mann, Robert Holcomb, Helen Wells, Evelyn Petersen, Donald Morgan, Clara May Masterson, and Mary Elizabeth Donnell.

I Like To Meet People, Betty A. Hodson

Manuscripts

I like to meet people of all kinds - old or young, famous or unknown, well-educated or illiterate, brilliant or stupid, good or bad, Negro or Chinese, foreign or American. They are all needed to make up this world in which we live, so why not get to know them? One can enjoy living much better if he knows those with whom he associates. There are so many interesting people to meet that I know I shall never tire of meeting them.

How To Amuse A Younger Sister, Don Griffin

Manuscripts

Amusement for a younger sister depends upon her age. Suppose she is just ten months. There's not much to do for her when she cries except carry her about the house and change her diaper. But that isn't very amusing.

A few months later she will be delighted to yank on your hair, poke your eyes, or grab for your spectacles.

When she begins to walk, she will find many things to be amused with around the house. There will probably be broken lamps, torn clothing and paper, and many things damaged. You will not be required to do more …

Heaven, Hell, Or Earth, Mary E. Donnell

Manuscripts

Since my first days in the Cradle Roll Department of Sunday School, the merits of the bad place against the good place have been impounded upon my mind. In my childish fancy heaven represented a place where everyone wore water wings, balanced embroidery hoops on their heads, and sat all day on cloud tufts eating water melons. This connotation was no doubt derived from the picture Green Pastures. One of my first thoughts about heaven was that it would be very boring with everyone so good. I" had never heard of night in heaven and wondered if the angels …

Evening At Juniper Knoll, Lois J. Shipley

Manuscripts

Oh, the glory of it all! The sun was a magnificant ball of flame as it descended low in the heavens. Small fluffy clouds of gold floated around the huge flaming ball, but kept their distance as though there was some fear of it. Occasionally, a graceful swallow Hew across, lending his profile to the glory of the heavens, and the cry of night birds as they took to flight gave the woods that necessary note of evening time. As I strolled through the woods, the sticks crackled beneath my feet and one little squirrel in the tree top took …

The Three Most Quiet Things I Ever Knew, Dick Runnels

Manuscripts

In these turbulent, noisy days, I sometimes like to stop and think of the peaceful, the quiet things in my life. As a child, I suppose the most quiet things I knew were the great, silent hills of our farm. How often have I romped and scurried over/ these hills, independent of all restraint'! Or how often have I wandered aimlessly through their protecting shadows while pondering my boyish problems? Always their vast silence offered no opposition to my mood, Like friendly old men, they sat about watching me grow, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning, but always quietly understanding.

Three Silent Things, Ann Holloway

Manuscripts

Things that cause the eardrum to vibrate are relatively unimportant in the Universe. Nature's thunder, the boom of the cannon on the battlefield, or man-made machinery in operation create sound, but the very fact that they do so has no bearing on their significance in the world. Trees, wind, stupendous buildings, books, music, and art possess audibility or visibility, but these objects and elements in themselves are meaningless. The silent, intangible factors that allow the trees to exist, the wind to blow, or the artist to paint are the foundations on which the plan of creation is laid.

Rhapsody In Hue, Dorothy Masters

Manuscripts

Always, wherever I am, when I smell wood smoke, a blanket of color waves before my eyes. I can taste the crisp, juicy apples bought at a crude roadside stand and sold by a toothless 'hill-billy' and his apron clad wife or tousled-headed children. I see the brilliant orange of bittersweet clinging to the fence posts, and I can see each article in the antique shops - especially the spinning wheel and trundle bed and the corn-cob dolls with their hooped-skirts. I see fields of corn stripped of their harvest, standing tiredly, waiting, bearing no resemblance to the proud tall-tassled …

Infant Climbs A Mountain, Peggy O'Donnell

Manuscripts

Ever since they'd left New England behind to come west, Infant had been excited; there had been so many things to see, all new and different. At first she had thought that Indiana would be like it was in her first grade reader; that they'd live in a log cabin, that she'd wear a coonskin cap and deerskin breeches just like Dan'l Boone, (only smaller, because Infant was only six) and that there would be real live Indians with tomahawks. Mother had explained that that had been a long time ago, and that Indiana now was just like New England. …

Peace Through Prayer, W. S. Mclean

Manuscripts

As far back as he could remember he had been afraid of storms. Back there in the early years, some member of the family had set the pace of fear when a storm came. There was an old belief - probably a superstition - that if one sat on a feather bed, lightning wouldn't strike. Anyway, there was a general migration to the bedrooms during a storm. Mother became nervous if the storm was severe, and sister would have a fit of trembling. Brother made a vain show of bravery, which only intensified the uneasiness. All through his seventeen years …

Solliloquy, Doris Daley

Manuscripts

The northern day was drawing to a close, and as I watched the sun slide down behind multi-colored clouds, its satellite rays trailing after, it seemed that with it went something of the human quality of this earth, leaving me alone in the presence of the unknown.

Standing topside in the prow, I could look down and watch the slender ship cut the never-ending swells. On either side, the smooth hull sent the backwash sliding along its sides, crested with foam at first, and gradually spiralling out into shining ripples amidships, all the while roaring like a hungry beast. But …