Nonfiction by Chris Wiewiora
The week that Lauren and I broke up, my father had slipped an envelope through the cat door sawed into the bottom of my bedroom door. A sticker of a mockingbird sealed the clasp. The front read: (to read after you’ve had your coffee and are awake).
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Welcome, everyone, to the new Splinter Generation blog. Here at Splinter, we want to find the best new literary and artistic minds out there, voices that can define who we Splinters (otherwise called millennials) are, and we’ve spent the last few years going through submissions and finding some really, really excellent work (and getting so many submissions we had to turn some of it down, even!)
And now, we’re starting a blog.
We’ll be posting links and random musings about our generation and fiction and poetry and nonfiction and music and art. We’re gonna have fun with it and we’re gonna nerd it up and it will be spectacular. We’re going to cull the Internet for things you’ll be interested in, and we’ll also, hopefully, be able to talk about ideas that are important to our generation and to literature and to art in a less formal way here.
But that’s not it. We also want this blog to start conversations. That’s one of the things Splinter is about: we want to get people who aren’t talking to each other to start talking to each other. So we encourage comments, and we want to hear from you about what it means to be a part of this generation. If you feel like a story needs to be told, or if you have a generational rant that isn’t necessarily literary but you want your opinion voiced, you can email us at splinterblog (at) gmail (dot) com and we’ll post some of your thoughts as we get them.
We’ll be here a couple times a week! Check in often. x
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Nonfiction by Lisbeth Prifogle
I get it and I don’t. I think about staying in and volunteering to go to Afghanistan. It’s a right of passage for Marines. It’s a badge of courage. It’s who we are. I can’t explain it, but I understand it. What I don’t understand is that Trevor is dead. He was just a lieutenant. He had his whole life ahead of him. He had a career to jump into, a wife to meet and marry, and children to raise in the suburbs. He had all of that and more, but now it’s over.
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