Professional Writing Anthology

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Book

Comedy

Pathway Problem
by Sambo Chilton
Crash course for a crackpot and her halo of habit

TunezUSA
by Joe Fitzgerald
The future of music is in good hands

Neckbeardery
by Sharon Van Wyngaarden
My blind date with a stereotype

Romance 

My Book of Regrets
by Tiffany Cuddy
A happily married woman is faced with a difficult decision when her ex-boyfriend comes to win her back

Winter
by Nick Gibbins
The warmth between lovers does not multiply

They Don't Speak
by Cody Lirette
A forgotten love song that needs no voice

Slice of Life

The Temple
by Ashton Heaps
Terrified of becoming a father, a man runs off to Thailand to escape his girlfriend and his life

The Party
by Tyler Cooke
A night of adventure unfolds for our nerdy hero

Let It Snow
by Amanda Pereira
How a visit from an old friend can make any day better

Eidetic
by Alex Sundaresan
The desert devours everything it touches—but it won't devour us

Gnome

Fantasy 

Lantern
by Catherine Arbour
A journey of light and redemption

Battle Fit for a God
by John Cutland
If you were God, how would you keep yourself entertained?

 

To Charm the Sea
by Marty Le Gallez
A melody to sway the tides

Die Wolfssegner
by Rob Sullivan
It's a long way to grandmother's house

 

That One Time I Almost Caught a Unicorn
by Allison Van Maren
Buckle up for a magical and disappointing adventure

The Heart of the Swamp
by Nicholas Wrixon-Wood
A tale of peace, ignorance, desolation, and hope

Clouds

Magical Realism

Our One Night a Year
by Christ Campeau
A Halloween tale in the spirit of siblings

Ring One Last Time
by Meaghan Côté
The sound of life's end

Sophia
by Stephane Moisan
Everyone wants to grow old with someone special. Be careful what you wish for

 

What You Sow
by Amanda Simard
For every mistake, there is a price to pay

Morgan
by Phoebe Strike
A lonely teen meets a child with a strange illness

Horror

Dream Fuel
by William Cousins
Savour your memories

Joyride
by Myryam Ladouceur
One man's unpleasant job takes him on the ride of his lifetime

Bloody Brilliance
by Marta Zwart
The splattered road to fame

Girl

Drama

Fragile Memories
by Paulina Grace Hrebacka
How heavy is a secret?

Hope
by Yushra Khodabocus
For a woman groomed to comply

Talk
by Madelaine Lange-Chenier
A poignant story about a father and daughter coping with the death of a loved one

 

Monstrous
by Anna Moat
You never know what you'll find on the beach

Designated
by Stephen Smith
A lovelorn teen discovers just how dangerous assumptions can be

 

 

The Burn
by Sean Stone
What happens when you play with fire?

Genie
by Gennifer Taggart
Dog's are a girl's best friend

Dark

Eidetic

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Eidetic

My car propels us further into the desert, sand and dust spraying out the rear tires like fire from a rocket. Ellie sits shotgun, wringing her hands, words trying to come out. In my mirror, I can see Fenster is trying to light a match on the stubble of his chin. He keeps breaking them and producing more from some unseen pocket of his stupid leather jacket—why the hell would you think a leather jacket is a good thing to wear when you’re travelling through a desert? He eventually seems to give up after breaking at least seven and slumps back into his seat.

“You better be picking those up, asshole!” I say.

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Bloody Brilliance

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Bloody Brilliance

I’ve been told that my fascination with blood is odd, but blood is just a gorgeous medium that should be celebrated instead of feared. Some have said that I deserve the accusations because of my methods, but the true artists—my fans—can’t help but worship me for the very same reason. Women love a dashing young man who can show his emotions through art, and that’s why I’ll be a millionaire within the next five years.

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The Heart of the Swamp

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The Heart of the Swamp

Far away in another land, at another time, with a different wind blowing, laid a little town known as Saffburg. The town was neither large nor small, the houses simple, and its days were peaceful. The citizens idled their days away napping under the sun in the summer, harvesting the fields in the fall, huddling together in the winter, and preparing the fields for the coming year in the spring. Year in, it was the same routine.

The town was much like any other in most ways, except for a single detail. The town was surrounded on all sides by a thick, musky, verdant swamp. The swamp was lush and its water clean. It was built of sturdy trees taller than any building in the town. The water from the swamp flowed through the town in two streams that crisscrossed through the center. A large fountain was built where they met. It was believed that the town was long ago built from the trees of the swamp. 

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That One Time I Almost Caught a Unicorn

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That One Time I Almost Caught a Unicorn

Vaughn walked down the main street of the village, trailing an apple vendor who pushed an overfilled cart. As he expected, the cart rolled over a particularly bumpy bit of cobblestone and out fell an apple. He waited a few moments before leaning down, scooping it up, and wiping it on his shirt to get rid of any traces of dirt. Good as new. He took a bite of the apple with a satisfying crunch and perched himself on a nearby ledge. The wall beside him, known to locals simply as “Paper Wall”, was covered so thick in various sized papers that its stony surface was nearly hidden.  On the papers read words like “Help Wanted”, “Missing”, and “Urgent!” But, out of all the words scrawled across their surface, there was only one his eyes actively sought out: Reward.

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Dream Fuel

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Dream Fuel

Joe walked out onto his back porch one summer night and peered into the starry sky.

Suddenly, a myriad of vibrant lights descended from the darkness above. They danced and swirled in all directions, mesmerizing him with their symmetry. He was so entranced by this beautiful sight that he did not notice the gargantuan thing controlling the lights. It grabbed him, and forced its long, tentacle-like mandibles into his skull.

“I want to know everything,” he said, gazing in wonder at the universe displayed before him. To his surprise, something was listening.

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The Burn

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The Burn

He worked the stick and shifted down gears while the rain poured and the radio droned. He slowed to a halt at the intersection and then turned off the road into the parking lot of his hotel. The radio wheezed:

“President Kennedy’s remarks were made in light of the events in–“

He turned the radio off and put the car in park.  He sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain. He got out of the car and made a hasty dash for the hotel lobby.  He gathered up his coat and held it to himself to keep the rain off. He did not want to spoil his tie. 

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Neckbeardery

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Neckbeardery

“Truth or dare?”

I look over the cocktail menu at my date. Gareth sits across the table from me, thick fingers wrapped around his glass of beer, thin lips curled into an unsettling smirk. His pinstriped red fedora and matching tie are at odds with his black cargo shorts, fanny pack, and hiking boots. The entire ensemble makes me feel embarrassed by association.

“Are you serious?” I don’t quite manage to keep the incredulity out of my tone. He frowns.

“Of course I’m serious,” he replies indignantly, scratching his neckbeard-clad chin with a sandpapery rasping noise. “What better way is there to get to know one another?”

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My Book of Regrets

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My Book of Regrets

I sit at a small round table in a café across from my apartment, the half-burnt incandescence of a dimming yellow light cramped in the corner. I’m reading a book that someone recommended to me—I am yet to understand it. My waiter comes over to the table and sets down a cup of herbal tea. I put some milk and sugar in it and watch them coalesce as I circle the spoon in the cup. I take a sip and continue.

As I’m flipping to the next page, a tall shadowy figure standing outside in the fog and rain across from the café catches my attention. However, I can’t make out much through the window as the glass is fogged and blurry from the dampness of the rain. With a shrug, I take another sip of my tea and return to my book.

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Morgan

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Morgan

The only memory I have of that house is the crescent view I had from inside it. Fluorescent neighbours had smiles plastered to their faces as they jogged, walked, and strolled down the lane. I could never forget that house across the street and to the left. It too was white and pale blue, lacking in fervour just as the town did. A grimed fence jutted out from what was supposed to be a lawn. That day, a boy who had slipped and impaled himself hung from it.

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Ring One Last Time

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Ring One Last Time

Walter glanced at the clock, willing the day to end. Elaine was in the hospital, but she didn’t want him wasting the whole day with her while she was mostly out of it. He’d have to wait until tonight to see her. Just past 12. Only a few minutes had gone by since the last time he checked. Joey’s handling the shop today. The kid was so happy when Walter gave him the keys to open the store by himself. 

Walter sighed and pushed away from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. Shoes tied and keys in hand, he looked out the window. Cloudy grey skies, dead leaves blowing in the light wind. He should put a coat on.

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Hope

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Hope

The image in the mirror was "me" covered in fake golden jewelry that was itchy on my neck and heavy on my ear lobes. My mother had ordered my cousins to do my hair. The tight oily braid clawed my skull in a paralysing headache. Pins held together the veiled dupatta with golden borders on my head. Hands on my lap, I dreaded the moment the voices outside would stop and I would be asked to step out. The mirror reflected someone else, with bright lips and makeup; it looked like me, yet not me.

My name is Hiba and this is my story. The story of a small-town girl with small dreams trapped in a reality that never belonged to me in the first place.

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Talk

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Talk

I stepped onto the churned pavement, the street crowded with old cars. The faint call of a crow sounded in the distance. I hitched the shotgun higher on my shoulder, and started down the ruined suburban street. Suddenly, zombies emerged, gnashing their teeth and groaning at me. They clambered over abandoned cars and pushed through hedges, their moaning reaching a crescendo. My pulse quickened, they were close enough for me to see the gore on their mouths. I punched the x button with my thumb, sighting the nearest zombie in my scope and blowing its head off. I twitched the joystick turning to kill the zombie behind me. Too late! It’s biting my arm and infecting me. “Game Over” flashed on the screen as my character bled out. I lifted the game visor and unbuckled the seat belt, feeling woozy from the simulator. The arcade was practically empty at ten o’clock on a Wednesday, except for a guy in the corner playing an ancient game. The smell of B.O, stale cigarette smoke, and nachos filled my nose.

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The Temple

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The Temple

“Shit, shit, shit,” Kyle swore as he ducked into the Big Bell Tower. He wasn’t sure how his brother, Riley, had found him hidden away in a monastery in Chiang Mai, but that was not important now. Now he had to focus on blending in. He faced the large bell and muttered, hoping to give the impression that he knew how to pray. Leaning against the cool white pillar, one of the many that lined the room, he bowed his head and feigned contemplation. The air was warm and humid, and he was starting to sweat under his t-shirt. His Canadian heritage refused to let him be comfortable in thirty degree weather, especially in April. Someone else entered the bell tower and by the heavy panting, he knew it was Riley. A group of monks, their saffron robes contrasting with the gold and green in the background, departed from the temple. He didn’t envy their walk down the Naga stairs, 309 steps to the city below.

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Sophia

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Sophia

I had always considered myself a classic bachelor; always doing what I wanted, when I wanted, convinced that I would never settle down. Every woman I met, no matter how beautiful or fun, was never going to get through my defenses. At 34, I was well on my way to staying single forever.

Sophia changed that. Within the span of a month, she had captured me, heart, mind, and soul. Yes, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but she affected me so deeply, and that was something very alien to me.

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Fragile Memories

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Fragile Memories

Marilyn strolls through the 3-6 months clothing section carrying a basket full of bibs, socks and a soft, pink sweater. It’s Saturday; her favourite day of the week. Between work, therapy, and housekeeping, this is the only day that Marilyn has to herself. She isn’t told what to do, where to be, what to think, or what not to think. Saturday is Marilyn’s day of freedom.

She begins her day the same way every week. She knows her husband will sleep in late, so she gets up at 6am and makes a list.

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Lantern

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Lantern

“Why should we allow this? Our village’s heritage is at stake! We should not stand for this!” The voice boomed off the temple walls.

Seated at five stone chairs, the village elders argued over the fate of the village. In the middle of the semi-circle, an ornate red lantern glowed with an unnatural, unwavering light. A young girl sat stiffly on her knees before it, struggling to ignore the shouts from around the room.

“Would you instead see that spirit’s continued existence in the realm of the living? Now that it has reawakened, all we can do is banish it!”

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