Hannah K: The Man Behind the Makeup
“Daddy, I can’t see you like that. You’re too scary.”
Emma and Leo crowded around their mother, who held the phone so that their dad could see their wide-eyed expressions. Across the room, I gathered my sweater and purse as I prepared to leave. On the other end of the video call, I heard Robbie chuckle. Continue reading . . . “Hannah K: The Man Behind the Makeup”
“The day is yours, and yours also the night;” Psalms 74:16
At three a.m., the world is crystalized in silence. Even the coyotes are silent, their keening cry absent from the windless prairie. What little sounds there are echo with a clarity that only the stillness of night can conjure. Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Night”
The summer that we decided to be kind to people was hot. A few years have passed since then, but I still remember how the gardens in our community grew that year. The plants, as fruitful as the Mennonites that raised them, Continue reading . . . “Missy Burkholder: Acts”
Sophia Bricker: What Grows In Cursed Ground
Mama said time heals all wounds, but I doubt it. I once saw Sara Beth skin her knee when we were playing basketball in the schoolyard, and the cement ate up her knee. Continue reading . . . “Sophia Bricker: What Grows In Cursed Ground”
Kenneth La Von: A Few Bad Apples
If you could fly as the crow flies from Butch Corner all the way to Watersburg, then the time it would take would be within ten minutes but no more than thirteen. With this in mind, you would also consider two independent factors if you could fly as the crow flies. Continue reading . . . “Kenneth La Von: A Few Bad Apples”
Look down on Kentucky, which is what they have been doing all this time, and you can see a little ink blotch about south-central. This is the river country along the Cumberland River. Continue reading . . . “Pete Kauffman: Seeing”
