Cease by Albertan Lynette Loeppky is a memoir that slips back and forth through time and place; the main story of the sudden illness of Loeppky’s partner Cecile bridges the interwoven flashbacks of both the beginning and ending of a love affair, and the women’s...
The CNF Writing Contest Winners for 2015 are... Congratulations to the winners of Room’s 2015 Creative Non-Fiction Contest.Before we get to the winners, we want to let you know that our annual Poetry and Fiction Writing Contest is now open!And now, here are the CNF...
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...
The pages you have yet to write are flagged and fluorescent, post-it pennants waving for another town’s fiesta. The pages you have yet to write are flagged and fluorescent, post-it pennants waving for another town’s fiesta. Massage the verbiage, the hiring manager...
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...
they might have noticed the bear whose movement down the hallway resembled a private waltz they might have noticed the bear whose movement down the hallway resembled a private waltz or hard-won swagger that comes from knowing trails, from soft leaf language from the...
Palm trees flash past barred windows, and words waft over the train’s noisy pulse. Palm trees flash past barred windows, and words waft over the train’s noisy pulse. Something is different—conjugations of verbs, endings of nouns—but I still understand these pieces of...
Once, upon a day of politics trouble, I saw my mother burying her gold in the vegetable and herb garden at the back of our house. It was a school day, but I was at home because she had pulled me out of class that morning. My class, all girls, had been waiting for our...
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...
uluka my Sanskrit owl vahana, vehicle of Laksmi sharing the name with a muni, sage uluka my Sanskrit owl vahana, vehicle of Laksmi sharing the name with a muni, sage that term from silence itself uluka a kind of grass sound in grass perhaps uluka the quiver i feel...
ROOM 49.2 SCIENCE
I hope this issue makes you curious and furious, leads to 2 a.m. Wikipedia rabbit holes, fulfills urges to seek out knowledge-keepers. Quickly or slowly, dive in: -ologies of all varieties await you.
ROOM 49.1 No Future for Who?
In Room Magazine 49.1 No Future for Who?, we are really asking. We are coming in hot. We are causing a scene. We are being unreasonable. We are not fucking around. We are not taking “no” for an answer. “No” is the only word we still know. For who? For who? No.
Seeking members who love literature, events, merchandise, and supporting marginalized creators.
Science | 49.2
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No Future For Who? | 49.1
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REST/UNREST | 48.3
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