Latest Stories
Most recently published stories on Vocal.
How Will You Join in the Dance. Top Story - February 2026.
Hear ye modern man, listen to the ancient bards and sages. We are more than ourselves. We are the product of ages. We are born of stardust with access to the divine, that extends beyond ego and the senseless greed of a swine.
By Katherine D. Graham11 days ago in Poets
Todd Monken and the Cleveland Browns: A High-Risk, Offensive Gamble
On January 28, 2026, the Cleveland Browns officially named Todd Monken as their new head coach, marking his first opportunity to lead an NFL franchise. Monken’s hire is intriguing, promising, and risky all at once—a reflection of both the Browns’ desperate desire to fix a struggling offense and the league’s appetite for offensive-minded coordinators. While Monken brings a track record of modern, effective offensive scheming, questions about his ability to manage an entire team and navigate Cleveland’s notoriously volatile environment make this hire a high-stakes gamble.
By Logan M. Snyder11 days ago in Unbalanced
Inmate Six
The Toll of Inmate 6 I cocked the trigger, I dropped the hammer, Chasing a life I thought was glamor. But the flash of the barrel is a fleeting light, And life has changed in the dead of night. If only I refrained, if only I’d seen, The hollow end of this killing machine. I hear the distant inmates’ clamour, As guards approach in polished armour. Echoes ring through the concrete hall: "Do the crime, give up your time, give up it all." A gallows pole is now my toll, The weight of the iron upon my soul. The Spiritual Appeal Last rites are read, a spiritual appeal, But the silence of God is the only thing real. He whispered to me in a voice like thunder: "Shouldn't have dropped that hammer, or torn life asunder." My response was solemn as the end drew near, Though I told the walls I felt no fear. But the smell of death is thick and close, A heavy, haunting, final dose. Prayer now departed from my guardian’s hand, As I leave the world of the living man. The Reaper’s Receipt The reaper chimed in with a hollow grin: "No more games to play, let the fire begin. Hell is coming your way, Inmate 6, The clock has stopped its rhythmic ticks." The inmates shout through the bars and steel: "Should have cut a deal for an appeal!" But now it’s late, the walk is straight, With my own two hands, I sealed my fate. The rope was set, the air grew thin, The price was paid for the original sin. The gallows pole took a heavy bend, And Inmate 6 met his silent end.
By Vinn Black11 days ago in Poets
