Tagged: stories

reflections as a student of science communication


Why choose a to tell one story over another? Sometimes it’s interest, sometimes it’s inspiration, and other times it’s intrusion. I am relatively new to the rising wave emphasizing science communication, but here are a few of my current thoughts dumped into text so I can (hopefully) continue to process them as I learn more. Continue reading

The Library

There is a certain feeling that may settle itself in the pit of one’s stomach that is inexplicable with words; it is something that can only be experienced.
Welcome to The Library.

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Laurie Lane

There is nothing special about Laurie Lane.

All the little white houses are on one side of the street, all cramped together in a single file with no elbow room. The fences that divide yard from yard are practically nonexistent. The view from one window often looks into a room in the house next door. The poor buildings must not even be able to breathe.  Continue reading

Flash(back) Fiction (Episode 2)

Read this first.

Calder’s mind finally stuttered back to full consciousness. There was a dull throbbing in the back of his head as he forced himself to open his eyes, one at a time- a feeling he had grown to be all too familiar with over the past four years.  Continue reading

Saturday Shorts: I (Do Not) Remember

There are days when I don’t mind being alone, and then there are days when I remember what my family was like.  Continue reading

Saturday Shorts: A Plant and a Party

I couldn’t imagine for the life of me why it was taking Val so long inside the grocery store.

But then she showed up with a plant.  Continue reading

Saturday Shorts: Reminisce

The looming apple tree in the front yard used to be ideal for sitting under while admiring the soft light glinting off the ruby bricks and pristine roof shingles of her old home. It lay on the outskirts of a large city, far away enough so that only the loudest of the bustling noise would touch it. Every spring, the apple boughs would be laden with scarlet fruit for a fortnight before they dropped to the supple grass below. A creek ran its course around the house’s border, in constant motion despite the overpopulation of rocks and algae in its way. A wooden fence stood near the creekside, supporting a mass of mock-orange plants. They were trimmed every week, and the blossoms would often drop into the pellucid waters and drift down the gentle current.  Continue reading