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• Fiction > Realistic Fiction
  The Prayer of the Mantis

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  The Prayer of the Mantis I am a human, much to my father’s dismay. Perhaps, had I been born with antennae and an exoskeleton, he could have mustered up enough love to pin me to a bit of cork too. My father was an entomologist, a bug man I used to say. He’d run the sloping shoulders of our l...
• Fiction > Scripts & Plays
  As the Crow Flies

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  CAST OF CHARACTERS Crow Daily- 40+, wise and realistic. He has dark beady eyes like that of a crow as well as thick black hair. His birth name is Crowley but he’s gone by Crow ever since he was small. He has a hooknose similar to a beak, tall and lanky. The keeper at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard. ...
• Fiction > Scripts & Plays
  The Wednesday Man

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  CAST OF CHARACTERS Phineas Webb-39. Sharp, black hair. 5 o’ clock shadow, green eyes. Wears a nice collared shirt and corduroy pants. Works as a literary professor at an all boy’s boarding school. Despises the do-gooders in his class. In fact, despises students in general. Depressed. Atlas...
• Poetry > Limerick
  Toss Back That Lime Rickey

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  A spider once humbly said: “Sir, it’s time to get out of your bed!” I must say I was shocked, that a spider could talk, So I squished him until he was dead. I once met a man named Finny, Arm in arm with his sweet bride Winnie, But I’ll tell you the truth, he was sleeping with Ruth,...
• Poetry > Free Verse
  The Communist Manifesto

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  A honey hive beats as a heart— Combs much like arteries, honey thick as blood. As a heart beats with unity to support a greater being. If several little honeybees were to rave on about the importance of their American dream: their patch of white picket lawn, 2.5 children, a dog, then...
• Poetry > Free Verse
  Carpe Diem

  

  By SarahGill, Gilford, NH

  I was told never to stand upon toadstools to avoid killing fairies, as I was told never to stand upon graves. We'll all soon grow toadstools and wouldn't you like me to dance them away? Not in celebration, but out of respect for your old stiff bones, your humanity. You don't feel mu...