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On Being A Part of Nature
Brieanna Adams
2003 California State University, Fresno Young Writers' Conference, English Department Chair's Award
The sun creeps noiselessly over the mountaintops and pours brightly into the windows. We are used to the burst of sun on our faces, since there are no curtains, no need for curtains or locks or security devices. Who would hear anyway? There are no sounds except for the occasional owl, cow, rooster or donkeys. The goat dogs bark, but we never notice; it's part of our lives. read more> |
My Dad-Like Clubhouse
Nicholle Pierro
2003 California State University, Fresno Young Writers' Conference, Fresno Area Council of Teachers Award
When I saw the place a few months ago, it was pretty bad. It's as isolated as a hermit in a mountain cave and just as dirty. It stands apart from everything except the elements of nature. In tackiness, the clubhouse is definitely Dad-like. If all you knew was that our dad physically went out, bought wood and nailed it together to make his kids a clubhouse, you'd say that it was a nice thing. But if you actually saw the clubhouse, you might not say anything, you'd just take off running and never come back. read more> |
The Bird
Carmen Lau
2003 California State University, Fresno Young Writers' Conference, English Graduate Student Association Award
Mary was sleeping when she heard it. It was high-pitched, desperate, a shrill call for help. She saw it clearly in her mind, behind closed eyes. It was in the living room, shivering under Tabby's shadow, bright black eyes empty but afraid. She saw in vivid detail its feathers, wet and clumped from the cat's saliva, its frail little feet rooted to the ground, hidden in the long blue fibers of the carpet. read more> |
Porterville
Ryan White
2005 California State University, Fresno Young Writers' Conference, William Saroyan Award for Short Fiction
Every person has a place that they call home, a huge city, a small town, the open desert, the mountains, or their neighborhood. For me home is where I live right now, Porterville: A place where trees still out number people. I never really gave home much thought until my mother decided to move to a "Big City." It was a nice city, I guess, as far as cities go. There were no gangs, no symptoms of poverty (only the rich could afford to live there), the schools were great, and it was located on the beach. It was Newport Beach! So why did it not feel like home? read more> |
Badder's Ranch
Emily Meik
2005 California State University, Fresno Young Writers' Conference Honorable Mention
"Alright you guys, now we can cuss and no one will hear us!" That is all I heard seven year old Cameron say as I scrambled towards the top of the last hay bale. We were now standing on all of the hay bales in the old green hay barn. Up there we were free, Cameron, Brandon, and me. Free from the real world and free from our parents and responsibilities. We played so many different games and acted out so many scenarios. It was a place where we wanted to live every life but our own. read more> |
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Updated on:
May 6, 2008
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