Category: Fall 2017

Doing the Most

It wasn’t until Emma Shibley’s senior year of high school that her mother seriously questioned her extracurricular involvement. One afternoon that fall, Emma arrived home from school with an announcement. “Hey, Mom, guess what?” Susan Shibley knew how that conversation would end. Mother and daughter had been there before, when Emma had joined the school band, the marching band, choir and ensemble, and again when she had gotten the leading role in the school musical. Before that, there had been Girl Scouts, volleyball, cross-country and track, spelling bees, a competitive writing team and summer swimming and diving teams. Emma...

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Simplicities Don’t Tend to Stay

i am wistfully watching the cousin of guilt he’s presenting himself yet again Invitation-less at the party she thought she’d closed the door he seems to find his way nonetheless dread is underrated he makes her want to scream but permits only a whisper she’s reaching to the world outstretched arms aching heart she knows what she desires. in front of her there lies a paradoxical world of beauty and pain the shattered looking glass quietly accessorized with silent wishes slipping desires and tainted experience shadows of loneliness and echoes of strength the red rose its dropping petals quietly...

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Alba Craft: Oxford’s uranium-laced history

The Robinson sisters played in the water that shimmered and shined as it moved through the gravel and grass on its path down west Rose Avenue and onto south Main Street. Carol Robinson, the self-proclaimed mud pie queen, splashed in the rivulets that trickled off the roof and around the massive industrial facility next door to the Robinson’s home. She paid little attention to the bustling sounds of workers coming in and out of the concrete complex. The girls, all six of them, made an innocent hideout among the raspberry bushes that grew in their neighbor’s yard and on...

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Slow Down

2:45 a.m. on May 4 “Slow down, man,” says the kid waiting in front of me at the register. The air is fruity and the lights are soft in the Oxford Hookah Lounge. He blinks slowly, giving his eyelids a few moments to travel back up to an inebriated resting position. He’s wearing a short-sleeve, red and black button-up shirt with a dragon on the back. His hair is styled into a little tuft at the front. “Just slow down,” he slurs, like I might not have heard him the first time. *  *  * 3:00 a.m. on May...

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Emily’s phone began to buzz. She was in her friend Sarah’s room in McKee Hall. It was a Friday — one weekend before Halloween — and they, along with another friend, Jackie, were getting ready to go out for the night. Emily looked down at her lit-up phone screen, and her stomach fluttered. She knew that number. She held her phone in her hand and looked back up at Sarah and Jackie. “Guys,” she said, “I’ll be right back. I’m about to get an offer.” Emily left Sarah’s room and went into the hallway. She tapped the green circle...

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