chaney

Three Poems by Nadia Chaney

Skin Tent: On Returning to IndiaPoetry Finalist : Terrain.org 5th Annual Contest   Click button above to play audio for this poem, or click...
The Water Cycle

The Water Cycle by Eloise Schultz

By Eloise Schultz, with audio : 4th Annual Fiction Contest Winner, Judged by Teague Bohlen At some point, she stopped wearing the ring. I noticed when I came home from the library, helping her peel wax off the kitchen counter. When I asked, she told me that it had slipped off while she was swimming and sunk to the bottom of the lake. They searched for it, a gold glint in the mud and pebbles, but soon gave up.
Fall, or Falling

Fall, or Falling by Melissa Matthewson

To Know a Place : Nonfiction by Melissa Matthewson, with audio and gallery 4th Annual Nonfiction Contest Finalist, Judged by Kathryn Miles This used to be the place that settled into a deep silence with cows who quaked in the dead grass at the hush of snow, the world around them dormant, sleeping, at rest. Now, at the close of summer, my husband rejoices for this—for the trembling, for the snow. As a farmer, autumn brings a rush of joy, the hope of winter a consolation; he’s made it through the heave and draw of relentless work—the tractor turns quiet, the hum of summer finishes.
(Dis)Appearances

(Dis)Appearances by Nancy Geyer

By Nancy Geyer, with audio : 4th Annual Nonfiction Contest Winner, Judged by Kathryn Miles One Sunday afternoon in late summer, in an industrial park in Ithaca, New York, a man with a keen eye for detail flagged down a police officer to report a possible child abduction. After additional officers were called to the scene to canvass the city’s south and west neighborhoods, the police department issued a news release seeking assistance from the public.
underground

The Great Underground by Emily Wortman-Wunder

By Emily Wortman-Wunder, with audio : 4th Annual Nonfiction Contest Finalist, Judged by Kathryn Miles Air pushes from the mouth of the Henderson Molybdenum Mine like the breath of something sleeping, heavy and stale and subterranean. I stand awkwardly with the rest of the tour group at the edge of the company cafeteria, our mine-issued irrigation boots gritting against the vinyl tile floor, our hard hats and safety glasses reflecting the glint of the overhead fluorescent lights.