Christy Munson

Joined March 2021

187 stories

Bio

My words expose what I find real and worth exploring.

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Stories (187)

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Into the Woods
we carry waterproof matches a small pan knife and compass tent for two enough food for five days and in my trembling hands
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Intensive Care
after the pleasantries and subtleties of chattering on about the weather, needlework, craft shows, baby steps and diapers
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Limited Run
The twenty-something stick figure folds her clanky umbrella, tucks its dampness under an arm, and quietly slips her hands into mantas pose. I sense her calmness as she awaits further instruction. I motion that I am ready to descend. To her credit, she stays, silent and alert.
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Fiction
Punks
Fliers on billboards Looking for our sound out there, The guts of a year * Gear packed and loaded Amps, drums, cables, and guitars,
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
not here
A playground fills up Two gunmen take their places What will it take, change?
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
melt with you
Water takes its leave The Earth has lost her marble Humans disbelieve
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Prey
Loud cries break through night A new mom hears her baby A fox leaves, hungry
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Wet Signature
Even as I shove the wide white envelope through the metal slot, the gummy stickiness of its licked seal sticks to my tongue. A nervous energy spitball foams in my mouth. I swallow hard. The nasty taste lingers as the envelope vanishes.
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Families
The Eye of the Beholder. Top Story - February 2024.
Hate is inevitable So don’t tell me that I am the same as you Because your skin and mine are different You hate me for not being you
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Overland Pass
you tried and I love you for it you tried to strong arm the steering wheel you tried as best you could you tried to floor the brakes
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Fiction
Twisted String
In the spring we woke up early. You for dark roast. Me for you. You spoke French to me. Used the most delicious words: Bonjour. Croissant. Baguette.
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Fiction
Did She Go
I saw her on the hillside Her eyes cast toward the lake below And there she cried I know not why Then walking did she go
By Christy Munson4 years ago in Poets