Fall 2021 Submissions

My Dog Mia by Anastasia

I have a dog named Mia. She is 10 years old in human years and 77 in dog years. She has brown eyes and black fur. In my opinion, she is super cute! She is super calm, and she never bites or nibbles. Sometimes she yacks but I think that brings out her personality. She talks to us by barking. Sometimes she gets in trouble when she digs in the trash. My parents saved her life when they rescued her and adopted her. She is good at being a loyal dog. She loves it when we give her pats on the head and when we give her treats. And lastly, she does not like watermelon.



Flash Fiction by Paul Hook
Dust clouds choked out the sun while Chet looked east. The hard work put in during spring time had been decimated by a once-in-a-century drought.

Crops were stunted or dead. Lack of water from a dry winter and an even drier summer meant that he and others had to rely on an inconsistent irrigation system promised by the local government. Having surveyed his acreage, he would likely lose ninety percent of his crop of barley. Prices had skyrocketed to the point where he and his wife spent most of their days in a daze. No amount of worrying was going to fix their debt with the banks.

His thoughts on that day, looking at the baking sun, were of his great-grandfather Chester, his namesake. Chester had moved to Manitoba over one hundred years earlier and bought the five hundred acres for the farm.

The farm was now and had always been a dairy operation, but Chet’s worries turned to despair three weeks earlier when he heard that wheat wasn’t coming from the east coast. He and his wife made the decision to sell half of the herd to pay off debts. The couple were tough and knew that, with some luck and prayer every Sunday at church, the rains would come.

Every night, they sat on the porch perpetually searching for elusive clouds. Checking the WeatherNetwork app became an obsession, sometimes even at three in the morning.

Daisy looked at Chet after a particularly rough day, when the grasshoppers were becoming more numerous. “How about we do a rain dance tonight with the kids?”

Chet looked at his wife in disbelief. “Are you kidding?” He could tell by the look on her face that she was dead serious. “What would your parents think if they saw you and I dancing in the yard, hoping that the rains would come?”

“Darling, we’ve prayed already. We’ve sold half of our cows. Our crops are going to be meagre and the grasshoppers are taking over. What do we have to lose?”

He saw the twinkle in her eye and the dimple on her left cheek underneath the freckles. After a moment’s thought, he said, “What the heck.”

Later that day, the two set a big bonfire and did a rain dance like they used to do as kids. Their children even participated and the two border collies joined in. Chet knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to admit that it was the first day in weeks that the four of them had had any fun.

Chet fell asleep without any worry, a half-smile on his face.

He awoke to a tapping sound on the metal roof. Looking over by the window, he saw the silhouette of his wife, hands on her hips. Still groggy, he got up and shuffled over to her. “What are you doing up, honey?”

And then, he realized what the sound was. He hugged his wife from behind and felt the tension in his shoulders evaporate.