She tweaked her resume for the fifteenth time that morning, eager to make it modern without screaming desperate. After twelve years with the same company, she wasn’t sure what an employer looked for anymore. Were LinkedIn profiles necessary? She added hers, making a mental note to update it. She should probably consider a new email…
I’m very excited to announce the publication of an anthology of autoethnographic works (stories, poems, photographs, and more) featuring my short story, “Wednesday Night,” as well as the work of many of my talented classmates from Rollins College. You can purchase the paperback for $24.95, and we hope to release an eBook version in the…
Thirty-one. Thirty-one always seemed like the right age to die. Not too old: people will still mourn your youth, the beautiful years of life you had in front of you. Not too young, though. Not young enough to have “barely begun to live.” If you’re too young, you don’t know what you’re giving up. If…
Photo Courtesy: http://tonyfoto.com/ ________________________________________ Dear Child, You did not have a name. It’s not that I didn’t have dozens – hundreds – picked out, of course; it’s just that naming you would have made this all too real. So I will call you child, and hope you don’t find it too condescending. This world is…
A micro story: _________________________________ A little white lie never hurt anyone. That’s how it starts. A small lie, innocent in its origins, but it grows. Like a snowball, rolling, growing imperceptibly until, quite suddenly, it’s bigger than both of you, bigger than the house, bigger than the whole god damn block. It was just a…
Very few people can pinpoint the exact day their life turned to shit. It takes years of alcoholism to destroy the liver, so you can’t nail down the day it all began. It takes at least a few months for a gambling habit to bankrupt you, so you can’t draw a circle around the date…
Tinkering with a story… _______________ The rust settled into the tines of each wheel, crept along the base, andinched its way to the white handle gripped tightly by five pudgy fingers. It had been his grandfather’s wagon first, pristine red metal and wooden grating, before his father’s. Now it was his. Flakes of oxidized metal…
I am currently taking a course in my MLS program focused on the short stories of Ernest Hemingway. While much is known about his novels (For Whom the Bell Tolls, A Moveable Feast, etc), most people are not as familiar with the incredible focus and dedication Hemingway extended toward the craft of word economy. I’m…
I’m very pleased to announce that my micro fiction story, “Father,” was published by the Journal of Microliterature today! It’s very brief (under 50 words), so it will be a quick read. Please check it out by clicking here! Thank you for reading! Victoria Elizabeth
An Index of My Failures A I am not able to forget. I am not an artist. I am not an athlete. B I am not beautiful. I am not blossoming. I am not brainy. I am not brave. I am not brawny. C I am not crafty. I am not creative. I am not…
Victoria Elizabeth Ann 