Angelina’s not worried about the letters anymore. She’s floating in the swimming pool leaking crimson ribbons that swirl like steeping tea.
Tag Archives: Canadian Literature
January’s Quiet Lies
And only time can turn a wound into a scar
And only scars remain of old mistakes
But still, I am what I have done
An 18-Wheeler Is About to Drive Through the Back Seat of Philomena’s Hatchback
She’ll sit the rest of the day in a drowsy Taco Bell that’s the only thing open within walking distance, drink too much Mountain Dew and wonder what has changed.
Though the Smoke May Lift
Tear down the four walls of this time-stopped room
and set me free.
Let flames lick clean the bones of what we knew,
and when there’s nothing left but this stabbing pain,
let me feel nothing.
Spoonfed Tragedies
We’re fed lollipops and bandaids
To placate hollow tears
And handed fictional monsters
To be the focus of our fears
9 MORE Notable Canadian Literary Magazines + 1 Bonus
I’m back again with submission opportunities from more quality Canadian literary magazines (well, nine Canadian and one UK-based). It can be hard to figure out where to send your stories, so I’ve done some of the leg work for you.
#30Words30Days Part Two
The wind chases ripples in the fields of winter wheat, kissing wavelets in the creek that murmurs past the willow tree, singing bittersweet duets with the mourning dove to me.
Where Have You Been?
Writing hasn’t just taken a backseat. Writing fell out of the car five or six rest stops ago and is wandering along the highway with its thumb out, hoping for someone who is actually heading its way.
Holding on to Happiness – Part Two
I’d like to say that I had some sort of epiphany that changed my life, but it wasn’t that specific. It was a gradual shift, a dawning awareness. . .
Holding on to Happiness – Part One
I turned back to see Dad, fallen, the waves pounding his back, pushing him over even as Mom struggled to pull him up. The next few minutes were a panicked blur of unrelenting surf that sent us staggering every time we thought we were gaining ground.
Aly Writes 