The heat index on the summer day felt hotter in July in Ohio, and Calhoun Mane walked all over town. Bored from sitting at his grandma fatso’s house throughout the morning. He found his way to a friend’s house, but nobody answered the door. Once he decided not to wait, the only logical next choice was to walk through the plaza by the storefronts. Maybe someone he knew would invite him to whatever was going on that afternoon. Most of the plans he made came from others dragging

The playground had an energy from the sugary snacks. The students had shared Valentine's cards and treats with their chosen sweethearts or wannabes the period before recess. Calhoun Mane felt emotionally confident with a new focus on this specific girl. Second grade was unlike first because he had never felt an attraction to a girl before. Kelly Calloway became a crush. His closest kiss with a female was with his grandmother, but it didn't count because she was a relative and

The parking lot had just one remaining spot before reaching full capacity, and everyone was waiting for a delivery truck to bring fuel. Calhoun pulled in and turned off the engine. Kameron, his girlfriend, sat impatiently in the passenger seat for hours, fussing about the inconvenience. Calhoun leaned over the center console, asking for a kiss, only to find her resistance heightened their anxiety. Kameron watched an older woman sitting in her automobile, worried about the eff

Calhoun Mane allowed an old feral cat into his home to get it out of the cold. Nearly a foot of snow covered the ground overnight, and temperatures had plummeted below zero. Mon Frère Vagabond was the perfect name for a critter incapable of truly caring for itself. Mon Frère, meaning ‘My Brother,’ and ‘vagabond’ refers to the cat’s tendency to wander without a home. At first, the cat darted through the apartment and quickly exited. The heat inside the home felt enticing to

I once saw AI as a nuisance that would destroy the world and steal my stories. Now, curious, I explored the hype behind the conversion process of images using a reference file. I create Adobe Illustrator vector art for a living. My pieces are clean, with great detail that expresses an origin. My writing is a sanctuary. AI has had no place in my manuscripts. I published my personal narrative in a unique voice, choosing my own path rather than a templated style that so many

Once Calhoun Mane got his first girlfriend, holding hands was easy. His first kiss, however, was awkward. He moved close, felt the moment was right, and accidentally kissed Mia’s nose with a swirling tongue. They laughed, but Calhoun got annoyed when she teased him. After a brief argument, they laughed and embraced, kissing passionately. Her allure drew him in like a newborn craving a bottle. Every time Mia asserted her dominant personality, Calhoun felt insecure about their

I aspired for social media to function beyond mere opinion sharing, primarily to display my literary work. It distracted me during the process of manuscript development; therefore, I ceased engaging with platforms influenced by external opinions and current world events to maintain focus. Composing 80,000 words necessitated intense concentration, leading me to isolate myself in order to attain my creative potential and produce meaningful content. My five pillars of digital

The new chairs in the movie theater were relaxing enough for Calhoun Mane to enjoy the flick. He wrote every emotional plunge into the depths of an empathic human's sob story. The natural tears shed proved something personal as onlookers sat in awe; his life portrayed on the silver screen had impressed some bigwigs with money to throw around. The work he accomplished had found connections with industry powerhouses, a diverse group just dying to depict the work of a visionary

On the cusp, the unreturning pendulum, not yet a teenager, yet a critic on the verge of announcing. Who was that kid for y’all? Inspired by Mattel, I drew characters from the television shows in elementary school. Before those formative years, I drew the characters from the cereal boxes. I was a scrawny child with no real physicality, so art made sense to me. Natural talent always changed the endgame for me, while shapes came together for an overimaginative child with the who

After Calhoun Mane had sat at his Remington typewriter for three days straight, his chapters caused him plenty of belly laughs. Reading back through his work was not an obsession but an important part of his editing process. When the stack of papers added up to enough for a proposal, Calhoun shifted his focus to an explanatory document reaching the full depths of a proposed narrative nonfiction masterpiece. He just knew with absolute confidence that any ambitious literary age

A lilliputian fairy flew about with eyes wide shut, awaiting a kiss from a human male. She had initially drawn herself to the blooming flowerbeds that filled the garden, fondling the vegetation with absolute care, even though she was the size of a turnip. Arioso frequently visited the farm to harbor her secret crush. The farmer worked all day, as sure as it was long, and his handsome features led this pixie to flutter her wings, as love had assured her of this longing. No com

I used to keep a dictionary on the back of my toilet to improve my vocabulary. Every learned word appeared in my conversations with meaning and purpose. Preservation is the key to articulation. I have a loving affair with the English language. I once assumed a slang-based voice fueled by a cultural preference. My influence came with an identity formed in the streets. Our identity can change, but every sincere impression lasts for a lifetime. I adore the mastery of one’s wri

From the moment I took a web development course in college, I knew the importance of such a resource. My online presence has become more purposeful as technology has advanced, and I have advanced. When proponents of artificial intelligence (AI) first suggested that computing could create better than I could, I questioned their sanity. Fortunately for me as a creative individual, I thrive on confidence and imagination. Creating an image feels remarkably satisfying to me, but

The tension in the room grew quickly. Calhoun Mane felt overwhelmed with rage, showing no sympathy for the woman who had once treated him nicely. After twenty years, they had grown apart. Kameron had made plenty of unrealistic excuses to leave the house, and it’s been weeks now. Their arguments had always been about credit scores and income. Now they became more personal, and Calhoun aimed to cut Kameron to the core. He knew which words would destroy their longstanding bond.

Calhoun Mane had a grievance with his onerous side. He was a half-grown man, aware of a weakness for dramatic anguish that plagued him so often. A life full of struggles sent him spiraling out of control. He had gone on a bender for three weeks. Alcohol consumed him. He had never drunk at this level before, but the strength he once mustered to succeed had gone with his sobriety. Beyond whatever social moments he shared with friends at gatherings, he never considered himself i

There he stood at the pavilion. Calhoun Mane felt the strong winds shove him towards his aggressor. Zach never had anything bad to say about his friend, but that changed the night before. Calhoun met two girls from school at a public park. Miranda had dated Zach since the beginning of the school year. She had sat on Calhoun’s lap at the pavilion, kissing and hugging him. Calhoun knew the couple’s status had changed days earlier. He had heard the entire ninth grade gossip abou

Calhoun Mane instinctively concealed his feelings about a difficult past too painful to consider. The adults around him never tried to address the unresolved issues lingering in his mind. As a teenager, he accepted his shyness, which helped him fit in socially without drawing attention to himself. When he put on a song-and-dance routine to be the center of attention, his behavior made others distrust his sincerity. He was an obvious basket case, just trying to survive ninth g

Calhoun Mane wandered through the crowds untouched, proving that racial tensions only applied to encounters where displays of disrespect caused discomfort. The verdict, reported on news networks across America, fueled an uprising among concerned citizens who had long endured such injustices. Communities were now on fire. Calhoun’s friend, Tyron, led a large group of angered citizens and Calhoun toward the bus station. Calhoun planned to leave Los Angeles with a boarding pass

The idea of a generational curse loomed over Calhoun Mane. He wallowed in self-pity throughout his adolescence and well into adulthood. After hearing his relatives complain about the curse throughout their lives, he came to believe in its effects. Every aspect of his life had felt disrupted from the start. Calhoun prayed to God for the change he needed to give him the new life he desired. Calhoun fell prey to events that hindered his ability to achieve his goals. Most of hi

Calhoun Mane lay on the roof of the wheelhouse of the large shrimp troller. He stared into the midnight sky as the stars blurred and lost their twinkle. The handful of pain pills in his gut had taken hold, plunging him into a medicated coma. Death was no new possibility for him. Three days in the southernmost swamps had already presented plenty of risk. When he finally fell into a deep, restful state, visions of the days reeled through his subconsciousness. The boat ride a