Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Pride.
Beneath the Cerulean Sky
You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they are not. Merritt Palmerston constantly ponders on such wise words of Jodi Picoult, even if he believes that they do not apply to him. Hanging just above the bathroom sink, a large looking glass reflects a charismatic, dirty-blond guy with eyes of azure and a razor sharp jaw who is blossoming in his early twenties; that reflection becomes entangled from the distortion of a turbulent mind, ravaged by the storms of depression and self-doubt. His mind often assures him that he will forever remain alone on the roller coaster that is life. Why would he even deserve love, he often thinks to himself. No one would ever love him, such a devastating whirlwind of emotional, damaged goods. That's right, he thinks to himself, he is damaged goods, tossed aside by a society bent on the perfection of Instagram influencers. He picked up a comb in an attempt to tame his thick mane of rebellious hair. Although it is cut in a fashion that he can style it like a quiff, such attempts are always futile; it always manages to find a way to become disheveled, befitting of his meandering fate of life full of unrelenting disappointment. He eventually managed to form some sort of style resembling the quiff and walked into his chambers to retrieve his knapsack. His first day of winter semester at the Institute of Archaeology at the University of the Highlands and Islands in Orkney starts today, and barring any unpredictable, yet completely predictable misfortune for him, he did not wish to be late. He tossed the emerald green knapsack over his shoulders, exited the tiny cottage, and made his way to class on foot.
By Josh Howard5 years ago in Pride
Strangers in my Home
Today I walked into my childhood home only to find it full of strangers. Everything about the house, from the dusty rafters to the cool, clean tiles beneath my feet were as familiar to me as my shadow, as the acne scars on my face, as my constant boob sweat. The house wasn’t always comfortable - in the summer the indoor heat was more akin to hell, and my poor gay spirit sweltered under that very Christian environment as a teenager. There was no escape - the house was in the middle of two lackluster suburbs and the wood floors, ceilings, and walls creaked so much that any attempts at sneaking out would have been futile. There were times that I didn’t even bother to acknowledge when I “sinned” - why bother when you’re already there?
By Camille Ora-Nicole5 years ago in Pride
Woman's Right
Without progress, we will think back on our lives in despair since we have no impact on the world. You don't need to be a worldwide achievement in your life to impact others. Seeking after a higher design is the thing that makes all the difference for us and developing.
By Sita Dahal5 years ago in Pride
His First
When the final bell rang to end seventh period, I already had my notebook and worksheets shoved into my backpack and ready to go, ready to bolt out the door and off campus. I didn’t linger in the parking lot with my friends like usual. I just ran home, unable to think of anything but what was waiting for me there.
By Jasper A. Flintsmith5 years ago in Pride
