Donald lay face-down on his towel while the sun toasted his oily back. Around him children played, couples kissed, and teenagers tried to look cool while strolling on the boardwalk.
Donald’s back toasted and toasted and when it was golden with the threat of burn he flipped over, slathered himself roughly with more oil, and started toasting his front.
The sun hung in the sky and dared to never go down, but signs of the inevitable emerged on the canvas. Pinks, greens and purples smeared across the once-blue expanse, dancing, swirling, drowning out the clouds.
Couples admired the sight, leaned…
Generic Company Co. — Kitchener, ON
$14 an hour — Full-time, Permanent
We are looking for a front-desk receptionist who will assist the office with incoming calls, dealing with online communication, filing, running errands, checking mails, courier preparation, performing neurosurgery, and other tasks as needed. A minimum 3 year office setting work experience is required. Second language and advanced knowledge of computational linguistics is an asset, as is low self-esteem and tolerance for toxic work environments. A minimum 4-year college diploma is required and postdoctoral thesis in a related area an asset. …
Note: This story begins with the literal story of how it happened. If you are looking for recommendations to maximize your own scholarship potential, scroll along until you see the next major bolded headline.
High school was a bit of a funny story. Unlike most of my peers, I didn’t have a part-time job or any demanding extracurriculars. Sure, I played varsity soccer — if you can call sitting on the bench for a season “playing.”
Most of my high school nights were spent playing video games. Sometimes I wrote an essay at five a.m., but only if it was…
When Don and his wife first opened the convenience store and full-serve gas station, they made almost a hundred dollars a day. Lottery tickets alone made up a quarter of their earnings. Don thought that those early days were so full of blessings and prosperity that God must have been smiling down at them.
Sadly, business slowed down rather quickly as rival businesses and chain gas stations popped up along the highway, and after eight years of slowly declining business, Don sat down one night and and spent two hours calculating exactly how much their store was earning. To his…
“The possibility of knowing history […is…] a deeply ethical dilemma: the unremitting problem of how not to betray the past.” (Unclaimed Experience, 27)
From start to finish, I wrote the first draft of The Wildes screenplay in only 20 days— but truthfully the entire writing process took me more than four years. I had been told by those close to me that my childhood would make a great story, and in 2014, I thought seriously about writing a screenplay loosely based on the childhood experiences of me and my siblings. …
When I was eight years old, my uncle picked me up by my belt. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
Granted, I was being a little shit. I can’t remember what I was doing, but it was something purposefully annoying — and in one moment, my beefy, 240-pound uncle hoisted me up by my belt with the raw power of his bulging bicep.
Because he grabbed it near my right hip, I fell sideways to the left, and the belt tightened like a sharp noose. …
I’ve been trying to catch the big fish.
I saw it jump two hours ago,
and I’ve been casting after it nonstop.
My line pulls taught.
My lure is snagged on a rock.
It’s the fifth time today.
Today is not a good day for fishing.
I calm down
and look at my tackle box.
I pull as hard as I can.
The rod bends and groans
like an old man.
The lure’s still stuck.
I yank quickly in
directions, theories, slants, velocities —
None of them successful. …
Or “Why it is okay to cry over spilt milk in the Middle Ages”
Illustrations by Rachel Taunton
The weather was fair, the air was clear, and the humble squire Jonathan Percy scraped Cheerios and goat’s milk out of his grey iron helmet. He sat up high upon the Withershire Castle’s Eastern curtain wall, and as he ate, his gaze drifted leisurely to and fro separate scenes taking place nearby him.
Upon the wall with him was his mentor, Sir Billy Broadsword, who at that moment was engaged in the task of cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. Sir Broadsword’s…
i’ve got an awful lot of nothing to say