Freestyle

Renee Dupine, hands closed into fists shoved into the pockets of her aging chestnut brown trench coat,...

Note : This publication is the introductory chapter to a piece of text that will eventually become a full...

The song wove it's way through her mind like a fine thread into a needle hole. The melody was captivating...

They did it. I saw them. I was there.

They were stained with blood, didn't you see? Their eyes...

The clink of delicate glasses and the wild laughter of the party consumed the room. This was quite a feat,...

The factory was closed. So were the caskets.

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POET'S PEN: WILLIAMSJI MAVELI writes on Piusha Singh's poem "...

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POET'S PEN: WILLIAMSJI MAVELI writes on Piusha Singh's "...

Walking along the rails, white sheets across their faces that trail, are a man and a woman.

The...

I will never forget the salty, clean scent of your cologne or the way your hands were always so chilly....

The glass menagerie of a building was exquisite. It was like a palace that promoted life and vitality and...

They lived in this town for a good part of their lives. They loved all, laughed a lot, spoke words of...

Twenty-three year old Sparrow Tarot shutters on the edge of his bed, no blankets to be seen. Theres no end...

It's quite possible that in a surreal wonderland, in some spectorally odd crevice of the vast and morally...

CAPSULES: 9 A Regular Column on every Tuesday by Writer Williamsji Maveli

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POET'S PEN: WILLIAMSJI MAVELI writes on Cherie Sumner's "...

STORY LINE BY WILLIAMSJI MAVELI

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How to Write a Short...