creative nonfiction

At four years old, I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was in kindergarten—barely able to leave my mom’s side for five minutes without...

“He looks like a criminal,” our neighbour, Claudia, told my mother. “Shifty-eyed.” Claudia was elderly and happily divorced, tall with hunched...

“Mallory,” Mr. Nelson, my Pre-Calculus 12 teacher, said, “what’s the first thing you need to do to solve this equation?” I blinked up at the SMART...

I was sweaty. The sun pressed into my pale neck as I dragged my way to my friend’s house. As usual, I was overdressed, wearing multiple layers...

Running on the treadmill at Vancouver Island University’s gym, listening to a playlist of old ’90s rap, “Shook Ones” by Mobb Deep begins playing. It...