By Emily Harris Adams
The library is about halfway between our fertility clinic and home, I think as I step out the clinic’s doors. Just turn right instead of left on fifth. It’s one of those safe, nothing thoughts. I try to keep my thoughts simple when going to or coming from the fertility clinic. Complicated thoughts form little …
By Luisa Perkins
Olive frowned down at her little sister’s back. Mary Ann’s sunburn was bad. She’d been having swimming lessons with the other girls her age, and she hadn’t stayed in the shade. Leeches lived in the shaded water, as the girls had found out on their second excursion into the river. But better leeches than sun …
By Sandra Clark
This short piece of fiction from Featured Writer Luisa Perkins was first published in Segullah’s new book. “Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving?” –Gerard Manley Hopkins *** “When we depart, we shall hail…all whom we love, who have fallen asleep in Jesus.” –Joseph Smith *** When Margie was little, she prayed to die before …
By Rosalyn Eves
Vienna, May 1848 There is a feeling a hunted creature gets: a prickling of fine hairs at the back of the neck, a sense of unseen eyes crawling across one’s spine, a shift in the air. A smell, perhaps. I could not say what it was that night that struck me, only that between one …
By Rosalyn Eves
CHAPTER 1 London, April 1847 I did not set out to ruin my sister’s debut. Indeed, there were any number of things I deliberately did not do that day. I did not pray for rain as I knelt in the small chapel of our London town house that morning, the cold of the floor seeping …
By Melissa Leilani Larson
Emma Hauck realizes that her husband’s political ambitions are changing him—and their marriage. She finds refuge in her writing, and in the unexpected friendship of a new servant. As both relationships grow more complex, Emma must face difficult truths about herself that she never knew existed. A new play about marriage, illness, and the power …
By Melissa Leilani Larson
CLAIRE: When December rolled around I was sick to death of Provo. Of the valley, of the pollution, of stupid California drivers, and the fact that you can’t buy a Coke on campus that has caffeine in it. Don’t people realize that there is actually a difference in taste between the red can and the …
By Andrea Landaker
I shifted awkwardly on the pine tree branch, trying to find a position where broken branches didn’t poke into my seat. My binoculars swung crazily as I overbalanced, barely catching myself in time. I looked down. This was as high as I was going to go. “Sister Andrews, can you see her yet?” My visiting …
By Melonie Cannon
Dawn rides the morning air over silent houses and abandoned gardens, flickering light along the edge of the windowsill, ushering in my grandmother’s fearful cry. Like a crumbling yellow leaf dropping suddenly from an ancient oak, the stillness shudders and startles me from my dreams. I find her, golden, warm and white. Eyes, closed as …
By Karin Brown
Janie stared into the swirling, brown water, looking for a trace of the carcass. Her blond bangs stuck to her damp forehead, ponytails limp and unkempt in the summer sun. Below her, murky water ran fast and high in the deep canal, the result of generous end-of-spring rainstorms in an otherwise dry and dusty climate. …