The Flat Stanley project is an educational endeavor first created back in 1995 by Dale Hubert, a third-grade teacher from Ontario, with the intention of helping develop student’s reading, writing, and social studies skills. The premise of the project is simple; students cut out a “Flat Stanley” figurine, decorate it, and then send it off to visit with a friend, family member, or prominent individual in a different area. During its visit, the person receiving Flat Stanley is asked to take it to various different places and take pictures with it. For instance, if you live in Washington, D.C., you might take Flat Stanley to visit the White House or the Capitol Building. Then once the figurine is returned home,…

Part 1 It would have been so much easier just to keep telling myself the worst parts of my past were all in my head, and assure myself it wasn’t healthy for me to think too much about it. What took place in this story occurred a long time ago, and until recently, it was something I pushed back to the deepest, darkest part of my mind. I attempted to convince myself, almost, that it didn’t really happen at all, that all the chaos in my life and the psychological issues I was dealing with merged together into a horrible messed up delusion I used to process everything. I almost succeeded. So many years went by and I managed to…

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.” — Matthew 7:13 Faith is a strange thing. An invisible current, tugging people toward something they couldn’t see, couldn’t prove, yet clung to with unwavering certainty. Some found comfort in it. Others, like me, found it incomprehensible—a construct built on nothing but hope and fear. A way to explain the unexplainable. A reason to kneel when the world felt too heavy to stand. I never thought much about it. Religion, faith, belief… they were like relics from another time, things people inherited rather than chose. I grew up watching others pray before meals, cross themselves in front…

My therapist told me that writing about things could help. She kind of looked away when she said it, so I’m not sure she believes that. If I’m honest, I think she just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. It doesn’t matter though. I’m gonna write about it anyway. I’m gonna write about it because it DID happen, and it doesn’t matter what she thinks. At least if I post it here, someone might actually read it. If I post it here, maybe it can help. I should probably start with the move. My dad had taken a job outside of Cleveland. It was a spur of the moment thing. He didn’t really have a choice, given the circumstances.…

There’s a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: “To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen.” At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don’t really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who’s had one too many drinks and thinks they’re the next Nietzsche. I’d rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was all too abstract to have any real meaning. But now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The words gnaw at me. They crawl…

I was 32 when I married Ashley, the love of my life. The daughter of two wildly successful divorce lawyers, she carried her wit as well as she carried her elegance. Taking after her mother, she was blessed with strikingly Baltic features, and taking after her father, she was perhaps the sweetest and most genuine soul I had ever met. In other words, she was perfect. A few weeks after our wedding we set off on our honeymoon. Instead of sun-drenched beaches and overpriced umbrella drinks though, we opted for medieval museums and frosty pints. Something that fit the both of us much better. Over the course of the 10 days, we scoured the southern half of Ireland, stopping in…

I hate snow. Not in the way most people hate the inconvenience of shoveling their driveways or the sting of icy wind slicing through their scarves. Not in the way someone groans when their morning commute is slowed to a crawl or when their favorite shoes soak through, leaving their socks clammy and cold. No, my hatred runs deeper than that—bone-deep, marrow-deep, settling into the cracks of my ribs like frost that never thaws. Most people love snow. They welcome it, yearn for it even. Their faces light up the moment the first flakes begin to fall, delicate as whispers, like the world itself is speaking some long-forgotten lullaby. Snow is magical to them, a crystalline promise of laughter, snowball…

Mr. Zimmer didn’t want his last Halloween to end like this, alone in a dark cold room, an invalid while children and parents alike roamed the streets outside asking for candy and dressed in costumes. He remembered when he was young and fit, and when he hadn’t shattered his spine by falling off a roof setting up spooky decorations. At his old age, and with what little money his family possessed, it was easier for everyone to toss him into a nursing home. Easier for everyone except Mr. Zimmer himself. It scared him how easily they became frustrated and annoyed by him, a constant factor in their lives that suddenly turned into a burden, just like that. When he was…

“DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK!” The noxiously artificial taste of blue raspberry slid down my throat with sickening sweetness. This was only my third drink of the evening, but I was already feeling pretty lit. “Alright you, stupid pledges now it’s time for the main event.” I gulped down the last remaining bits of my sugary swill before taking a deep breath. I just needed to make it through one more event and it would all be mine: the booze, the babes, the blow, everything. “Since 1908 every Alpha Delta at the University of Virginia has been bathed in the blackness of the Raven.” A burning belch worked its way up my esophagus. “If you want to be…

It was 10:13 a.m. on a gray Wednesday morning when the internet first went out. Initially I thought it was just the piece of shit app I was scrolling through, but after several failed Google searches I realized the issue stretched much further. I sighed and slammed my laptop shut before stumbling out of bed. I was on the tail end of an especially heinous bender and was feeling a little light on my feet. Life had been throwing me curveball after curveball lately and I was swinging and missing like it was my job. Yawning, I staggered out into the hallway and made my way over to the router. Nestled neatly between a stack of unread books, it blinked…

I hate snow. Not in the way most people hate the inconvenience of shoveling their driveways or the sting of icy wind slicing through their scarves. Not in the way someone groans when their morning commute is slowed to a crawl or when their favorite shoes soak through, leaving their socks clammy and cold. No, my hatred runs deeper than that—bone-deep, marrow-deep, settling into the cracks of my ribs like frost that never thaws. Most people love snow. They welcome it, yearn for it even. Their faces light up the moment the first flakes begin to fall, delicate as whispers, like the world itself is speaking some long-forgotten lullaby. Snow is magical to them, a crystalline promise of laughter, snowball…

Mr. Zimmer didn’t want his last Halloween to end like this, alone in a dark cold room, an invalid while children and parents alike roamed the streets outside asking for candy and dressed in costumes. He remembered when he was young and fit, and when he hadn’t shattered his spine by falling off a roof setting up spooky decorations. At his old age, and with what little money his family possessed, it was easier for everyone to toss him into a nursing home. Easier for everyone except Mr. Zimmer himself. It scared him how easily they became frustrated and annoyed by him, a constant factor in their lives that suddenly turned into a burden, just like that. When he was…

There’s a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: “To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen.” At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don’t really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who’s had one too many drinks and thinks they’re the next Nietzsche. I’d rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was all too abstract to have any real meaning. But now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The words gnaw at me. They crawl…

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended. “Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried. A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d…

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all. She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t…

It took me longer than it should have to realize one simple truth: humanity has a blind spot, and hiding in it are living nightmares. It was 3 in the morning. It was quiet there, except for the cold wind. No moon lit the sky, granting the mountains a blanket of darkness that would have been wholly pure if not for my van’s headlights and the dim stars above. I shivered, then retrieved my black coat and shrugged it on along with a black woolen hat. The seal of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was vaguely visible on the driver door. I opened the back of the van and began to prepare the equipment organized there, first by slipping…

“DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK!” The noxiously artificial taste of blue raspberry slid down my throat with sickening sweetness. This was only my third drink of the evening, but I was already feeling pretty lit. “Alright you, stupid pledges now it’s time for the main event.” I gulped down the last remaining bits of my sugary swill before taking a deep breath. I just needed to make it through one more event and it would all be mine: the booze, the babes, the blow, everything. “Since 1908 every Alpha Delta at the University of Virginia has been bathed in the blackness of the Raven.” A burning belch worked its way up my esophagus. “If you want to be…

Part 1 It would have been so much easier just to keep telling myself the worst parts of my past were all in my head, and assure myself it wasn’t healthy for me to think too much about it. What took place in this story occurred a long time ago, and until recently, it was something I pushed back to the deepest, darkest part of my mind. I attempted to convince myself, almost, that it didn’t really happen at all, that all the chaos in my life and the psychological issues I was dealing with merged together into a horrible messed up delusion I used to process everything. I almost succeeded. So many years went by and I managed to…

I was 32 when I married Ashley, the love of my life. The daughter of two wildly successful divorce lawyers, she carried her wit as well as she carried her elegance. Taking after her mother, she was blessed with strikingly Baltic features, and taking after her father, she was perhaps the sweetest and most genuine soul I had ever met. In other words, she was perfect. A few weeks after our wedding we set off on our honeymoon. Instead of sun-drenched beaches and overpriced umbrella drinks though, we opted for medieval museums and frosty pints. Something that fit the both of us much better. Over the course of the 10 days, we scoured the southern half of Ireland, stopping in…

My therapist told me that writing about things could help. She kind of looked away when she said it, so I’m not sure she believes that. If I’m honest, I think she just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. It doesn’t matter though. I’m gonna write about it anyway. I’m gonna write about it because it DID happen, and it doesn’t matter what she thinks. At least if I post it here, someone might actually read it. If I post it here, maybe it can help. I should probably start with the move. My dad had taken a job outside of Cleveland. It was a spur of the moment thing. He didn’t really have a choice, given the circumstances.…

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended. “Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried. A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d…

I hate snow. Not in the way most people hate the inconvenience of shoveling their driveways or the sting of icy wind slicing through their scarves. Not in the way someone groans when their morning commute is slowed to a crawl or when their favorite shoes soak through, leaving their socks clammy and cold. No, my hatred runs deeper than that—bone-deep, marrow-deep, settling into the cracks of my ribs like frost that never thaws. Most people love snow. They welcome it, yearn for it even. Their faces light up the moment the first flakes begin to fall, delicate as whispers, like the world itself is speaking some long-forgotten lullaby. Snow is magical to them, a crystalline promise of laughter, snowball…

“How the hell am I supposed to memorize all of this?” I texted my girlfriend. Century-old floorboards creaked beneath me as I paced back and forth nervously. “It’s gonna be fine,” she responded. “You got this.” I sighed. It felt like a thousand rubber bands were wound tight around the base of my skull, slowly squeezing every last bit of meaningful focus out of me. I knew I had to do well on this test. Anything less than an 80% would surely get me dropped from the class and if I got dropped from the class, I knew that I would never end up becoming a paramedic. And if I never became a paramedic, I knew that I would never…

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all. She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t…

Mr. Zimmer didn’t want his last Halloween to end like this, alone in a dark cold room, an invalid while children and parents alike roamed the streets outside asking for candy and dressed in costumes. He remembered when he was young and fit, and when he hadn’t shattered his spine by falling off a roof setting up spooky decorations. At his old age, and with what little money his family possessed, it was easier for everyone to toss him into a nursing home. Easier for everyone except Mr. Zimmer himself. It scared him how easily they became frustrated and annoyed by him, a constant factor in their lives that suddenly turned into a burden, just like that. When he was…

It was 10:13 a.m. on a gray Wednesday morning when the internet first went out. Initially I thought it was just the piece of shit app I was scrolling through, but after several failed Google searches I realized the issue stretched much further. I sighed and slammed my laptop shut before stumbling out of bed. I was on the tail end of an especially heinous bender and was feeling a little light on my feet. Life had been throwing me curveball after curveball lately and I was swinging and missing like it was my job. Yawning, I staggered out into the hallway and made my way over to the router. Nestled neatly between a stack of unread books, it blinked…

It took me longer than it should have to realize one simple truth: humanity has a blind spot, and hiding in it are living nightmares. It was 3 in the morning. It was quiet there, except for the cold wind. No moon lit the sky, granting the mountains a blanket of darkness that would have been wholly pure if not for my van’s headlights and the dim stars above. I shivered, then retrieved my black coat and shrugged it on along with a black woolen hat. The seal of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was vaguely visible on the driver door. I opened the back of the van and began to prepare the equipment organized there, first by slipping…

I was 32 when I married Ashley, the love of my life. The daughter of two wildly successful divorce lawyers, she carried her wit as well as she carried her elegance. Taking after her mother, she was blessed with strikingly Baltic features, and taking after her father, she was perhaps the sweetest and most genuine soul I had ever met. In other words, she was perfect. A few weeks after our wedding we set off on our honeymoon. Instead of sun-drenched beaches and overpriced umbrella drinks though, we opted for medieval museums and frosty pints. Something that fit the both of us much better. Over the course of the 10 days, we scoured the southern half of Ireland, stopping in…

There’s a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: “To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen.” At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don’t really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who’s had one too many drinks and thinks they’re the next Nietzsche. I’d rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was all too abstract to have any real meaning. But now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The words gnaw at me. They crawl…

This story is about a young guy named Finn who lived and survived in a dark thick forest where snow fell often and anything that could move was still and frozen. Finn was ice fishing with his regular gear, near a hut he had found which was made from tree bark and vines growing over a structure formed from ice. He smiled as he reeled in a large catch, and he began to dance. However he slipped on the ice and hit his head on a rock. Looking around for any witnesses of his embarrassment, he saw nobody. He sighed relief, looking at his fish once again, holding it and wishing there was someone around, to witness his catch. He…