Robert sat across from his wife, Hannah, Reminiscing their first meeting. He spoke softly, and his eyes reflected years of laughter and love. “You were so beautiful that day,” he…
A Colorless Polychrome
He stares at the blank canvas, sizing it, while his left hand effortlessly glides above the array of brushes, a finger occasionally dipping down to feel the old, wooden handle,…
In Winter´s Grasp – Dikt
In winter’s grasp, a maiden fair, Trapped in snowflakes’ icy stare. Her dreams of spring, a distant call Another cycle of pain, she can’t let go. Each step toward…
Poetry Corner: December
my pockets are full of candy wrappers. to write is to feel. i unwrap the strawberry candy of my words and let it slowly melt on my tongue, the plastic…
Twisted Glow
A big bang and an earth-shaking crash came from the kitchen. Nick, clinging to a half-unraveled string of twinkling lights, raised an eyebrow, “Guess we have a poltergeist who doesn´t…
Short Story: The Whistle
The university campus had transformed into a chillingly quiet place as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert pathways. Martin, Caroline, and Daniel, three close…
Poetry corner: November
by Babet Berning Winter is coming, Every year again. Sweaters on, Dresses off. Winter is coming, Every year again. Days shorten, Sunlight decreases. Winter is coming, Every year…
Leserinnlegg STA
For at en vertsby for universitetene skal bli best mulig for studentene, er det en del faktorer både nasjonalt og lokalt som må være “på plass”. Derfor ønsker vi å…
For he has sworn upon a crimson moon
Woken up, through a red veil over the sky, washed away with a swift motion of my hand. A ringing noise disturbed my slumber, and the stars were as…
Poem corner: October
THE KETTLE - Evgeniia Kadyrova the kettle is boiling on the cooker and I'm sitting there the sound literally deafens me and I'm sitting the sound penetrates…
Short story: Girlhood
I pull the arms of my sweater down to my fingers as the chill from people passing through the doors creeps up on me. The lingering smell of sweet chai…
Therefore, I think I am (or maybe not)
It was the land of Kafka and the city of cats- Prague. Not like Istanbul, of course, or ancient Egypt, where cats were worshipped, or even Norway, where all the…
Reaching for the light – inspired by Solveig Hestholm
no closer could she be to the godly than breathing the last of what's left of her at the brink of sweet release as the lotuses gather as an astounded…
Pumpkin Spiced Panic
Marcus shifted his weight from one foot to another as he checked his bank account in the corner outside the bookstore. God forbid someone should see him there, doing something…