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Left handed snail
This may be a first. The first time that a new work of art has been publicly unveiled and announced to the Vocal Art Community. Please tell me if it is not, and other new works have been formally announced in this forum. Either way, I am delighted to present to you for the first time: Left-handed snail, 2025, freehand digital drawing. I drew this work yesterday evening, January 16, 2025. It is all my own work.
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Art
The Weather
Write Down the Bones Deck to Free the Writer Within — This is my wish for you: that you take these cards, grab the topic on one side and write, write, write. Then flip to the other side of the card and take note. I’ve always used the word topic instead of prompt. Prompt is the starting place, but topic indicates more the idea of plunging in and immersing. Natalie Goldberg
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Writers
The Archer
His stomach growled. A gentle rain broke on the forest green canopy and dripped down his matching green hood. He found the gentle pitter patter of rain soothing. Jahn had complained it was a terrible day for an ambush, but what did that little man know?
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Fiction
The End of The Tour (2015)
I have a confession to make: I was yesterday years old when I discovered David Foster Wallace and his significance as a contemporary American writer. I'll turn 55 in a couple of weeks. I know, it's embarrassing. My only excuse is that I lived half of my life in the Soviet and post-Soviet cultures.
By Lana V Lynxabout a year ago in Geeks
Work in Progress
Chloë and Luca spent the rest of that Thanksgiving weekend evening on the dance floor and, to Chloë’s absolute delight, exchanged telephone numbers and addresses for future correspondence. Chloë had always been a prolific letter writer, but she promised herself she would pace her communication with him. For his part, Luca wasn’t much for the written form, but he had her phone number and fully planned for a get-together when Chloë was back at university. He knew she lived with her parents so he’d have to play it cool, but he was taken – finally, Chloë thought – with her and planned to see her often, if that was something she’d want. He hoped that, on his return to university the following year, they would build on their budding relationship.
By Marie McGrathabout a year ago in Chapters
My oddest visit to a used bookstore
I remember that summer well. It was 2020, a time when nothing was normal and doing anything outside your house felt rebellious. The masks shoved into pockets, ready to be put on at a moment's notice. The odd respect for personal space that everyone had, which is literally the only thing I miss about that time, and the atmosphere of discord, isolation, and fear.
By Jessica Freebornabout a year ago in BookClub
The Lantern Grove
A sense of calm and quiet overwhelmed the Lantern Grove. The fading lights—once vibrant enough to paint the night sky in hues of emerald and violet—were dim now, flickering like dying stars. Sora knelt beside the oldest Lantern Plant, running her fingers over its leaves. The surface warmed her hands as it pulsed softly under her touch. It hummed, low and mournful, like a song with no words.
By Steph Marieabout a year ago in Futurism
