Read the Honourable-Mention Winning Entry From Our 2015 CNF Contest “Let’s blow this joint!” Dad said, and stuck the key into the Oldsmobile’s ignition. Mom rode shotgun; my brothers and I had all crammed into the back. Popcorn, our shih tzu, panted nervously at my...
Any writer can give you an angst-filled list of reasons why writing didn’t happen (again) today: there were the kids. Or a special meeting, or the first sunny day in months, or … Rarely do we mention, “Oh yes, and I was afraid.” Any writer can give you an angst-filled...
In truth, I’m not a poet. Nor do I, as a rule, pester strangers with chitchat. In truth, I’m not a poet. Nor do I, as a rule, pester strangers with chitchat. And I’m stingy with friendship, keeping it tucked tight to my chest like a baby chick. Not often showing it...
The honourable mention entry in Room's 2014 Contest Creative Non-Fiction category. Sitting on the edge of the tub I look at the large, red sore on my stump—the edges of its oval shape roughen in the heat of the shower, small bumps push to the surface. “What do you...
I learned how to pick locks in prison. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon; the adults were drunk and some had paired off to have sex in tents pitched on the lawn. I was sitting on the scratched wooden pew of a picnic table, playing backgammon by myself. I shuffled the...
I ate my first raw peanut a few months before we left for Sudan. I was taken aback by its beany-ness. It is a bean, not a nut. I had known that, been told, “It’s a part of the legume family.” But in my mouth for that first time, it was transformed. Peanut. Pea-bean....
Fifty years married, devoted to Jesus and family, Mom and Dad had remained your protectors in spite of your adult status and incessant lying, your manic highs and pitiful lows. January, 2010 Fifty years married, devoted to Jesus and family, Mom and Dad had remained...
The honourable mention in Room's 2012 creative non-fiction contest, judged by Kathy Page. Part Five: Beginning His eyes are dark and warm, like hot chocolate, and his movements are punctuated and full of life, like a baby Charlie Chaplin. His new lips feel strangely...
The honourable mention for Room's 2011 creative non-fiction contest, judged by Susan Juby. You arrive at Bjorn's going away party dressed in a neon green sequined bustier and pleather shorts with tassels, purposely outrageous for added courage. The bass throbs through...
I never expected there would be music at this funeral. Let mortals beware Of words, for With words we lie —W. H. Auden, A Hymn to the U.N. I never expected there would be music at this funeral. Before Eric begins, he apologizes to the thirty of us gathered in the pet...
ROOM 47.2 Seedpod
“Maple keys are built by nature like helicopter blades, which allows them to propel as far as possible from the mother maple… In these pages, we see the brave, touching, true ways we, too, must embrace the fear and the excitement that comes with leaving where we are rooted.”
ROOM 47.2 UTOPIA
Join Room and Augur in the gleaming, unwritten future with our utopia issue. Featuring new poetry by Larissa Lai and an interview with Whitney French.
Seeking members who love literature, events, merchandise, and supporting marginalized creators.
Seedpod | 47.2
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Utopia | 47.1
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Sponsor a Contributor
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Fever Dream | 46.4
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Fever Dream Tote Bag — Limited Edition
Ghosts | 46.3
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Ley Line | 46.2
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