Tag Archives: essay

Blue Lights, essay by Paul Crenshaw

When the cop pulled us over at close to 4 in the morn­ing, my drunk­en uncle said to let him do the talk­ing. The blue lights lit his face in the rearview mir­ror, and lat­er it would occur to me … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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A Redneck Eats Thai Food, essay by William Matthew McCarter

I can still remem­ber those dark days–not long ago–when you couldn’t hang out with a group of grad stu­dents at a uni­ver­si­ty cam­pus with­out some­one say­ing “Let’s go get some eth­nic food”–like they had just smoked a bour­geois blunt and … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Tramp On Your Street, essay by the Legendary Jim Parks

  Six Shoot­er Junc­tion – He had a spir­it bag mas­querad­ing as one of those filmy lit­tle white plas­tic num­bers they give you at Wal-Mart to car­ry small pur­chas­es. As the days of the tri­al wore on, he put his … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Sweet and Clear, essay by Terry Barr

I saw her smil­ing at me in K-Mart, over by the jeans. She had red hair, and no mat­ter which aisle I turned into—the Men’s groom­ing prod­ucts, the albums, the “notions”—there she was, smil­ing. I don’t know if it was … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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The Hills are Alive, essay by Anna Lea Jancewicz

Yeah, every­body has a dead grand­moth­er sto­ry. They’re not sexy and nobody’s buy­ing. But this sto­ry is mine, and it’s not so much about the woman as it is about the place. I’m from a lit­tle coal town, McAdoo, in … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Lock No. 10, essay by Megan Lewis

Park­er and he went out to the lock. He drove fast down dark roads. Roads that remem­ber us still. He parked. Next to the his­tor­i­cal mark­er— I think. We stum­bled through a star­less night, right down to the water. Right … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Castoffs, by Lindsey Walker

How would this look to a cop, hang­ing halfway inside the unlatched win­dow with C.J. boost­ing me through? It is dark inside, but I grip what I think is the short side edge of a farm­house table, pull my knees … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Leonard, essay by Brannon Miller

In my mother’s roman­tic his­to­ry, between the book­ends of her divorce from my father when I was two and her mar­riage to my step­fa­ther when I was sev­en, there was Leonard. I remem­ber Leonard being tall, with sinewy mus­cles stretched … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Innings, essay by Jim Parks

I came by it hon­est, this busi­ness of writ­ing up cour­t­house wars. It was what was going on that sum­mer – forty sum­mers in the past — in the heat of cot­ton sea­son. They had dis­barred the DA; the Sheriff's … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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Hillbilly Rich, essay by Jeff Kerr

Some­times I for­get how rich I am. I’m not talk­ing about the cash in my pock­ets, stocks, bonds or any of that stuff. I’m talk­ing about the sto­ries and char­ac­ters that live, breathe and wail with­in my blood, mar­row, bone … Con­tin­ue read­ing

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