author: Loudoun Creative Writing Students
Literary Lantern: A Space For Creative Writers
While most of The Loudoun Lantern pages cover the comings and goings at our campus, reporting on real-life events, we're an imaginative bunch at heart. This month, we're launching our Literary Lantern section, a space for creative writing.
Interested? We've got a short sampling of fabulous fare for you. Continue reading for a short sampling.
Have a story or poem buzzing around? A verse or chapter you want to share with the community? Contact Prof. Nathan Leslie, our creative writing guru, at email@example.com.
A Story by Jose Miranda
Dr. M Hofslandler’s office isn’t significantly distinguishable from the others I’ve been in. There’s the shadowyplay rug underneath a wooden table, the table high enough to place mugs on and reach for them without having to fully get up from the couch, and just high enough to stick your feet underneath and bounce them, as I am doing now, without bumping or rubbing the tips of your shoes on the table’s underside, but not high enough to put your knees at a 90 degree angle underneath and pull the table closer and over your thighs. There’s also a tobacco-brown desk with matching bookshelf, both stationed at opposite ends of the room, directly across each other, and two-thin bodied lamps with curly light blubs and rectangular shades. And two wooden framed cushioned chairs: one position eight footsteps in front of the bookshelf and the other with its backrest toward the door. And several posters with sentential connectives and cutish aphorisms both written in bold text, and college degrees in typical gold and intricate frames, all hanging in alignment with one another, as if when hanging them Dr. M Hofslandler used a pocket leveler to make sure all the posters and frames weren’t too far off to one side or the other, and after he was done he had someone come in and double check his work. But I suppose the only thing that would make Dr. M Hofslandler’s office sort of distinguishable would be the fractal poster with its central image resembling a Sierpinski Triangle, hanging on the door’s backside.continue reading...
A story by Dorothy Angle
Sometimes I wonder if my life is really a sitcom. The kind without the laugh track. Really, I think it's the only explanation for the types of things that happen to me. I've thought about who would play the sitcom version of me. I imagine an updated version of Meg Ryan, but without the lip injections. She would do a much better job of handling the irony and humiliation in the events that seem commonplace in my life and endear a Tom Hanks in the process. I'm sure she, unlike me, would make running into a glass door while texting and walking look adorable instead of deplorable. An old lady wouldn't scold her for not paying attention. A handsome man would rescue her, and they would exchange clever banter and then sit down for coffee and fall in love.
STORY: John Was Gone
A story by Marissa Foix
He was gone. John. Was. Gone. And just like that, my world ended.
I’d seen those TV shows and movies where a woman loses her husband and falls into hysterics, but that didn’t even begin to touch the surface of how I felt. Mine was a sorrow so deep that I didn’t have the energy for anything so animated. This was it, this was the end, and it really felt that total and simple. How did someone even begin to come back from this? John had been my world and now my world had ended.