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What it’s Like Being a Freshman Musical Theatre Major in the Middle of a Pandemic By, Ruth Anna Powell There’s a whole lot of tears. Your brain is always racing and telling you that you aren’t good enough and that you need to be doing something else, and it doesn’t matter how much you love it, and it doesn’t matter how many times people told you that you were good, and it doesn’t matter that you feel so good when you’re on stage, you aren’t good enough, and you’ll never be good enough, and everyone is better than you. There’s a whole lot of pain. After all, dancing until you’re struggling to breathe, and not being able to move you’re so sore, and wanting to cry but not being able to stop hurts. And it doesn’t matter how much you ice your shoulder, you wrenched it and it’s swelling and bruised and you’re holding back tears as your body gives up on you, and it doesn’t matter how many painkillers you take, your back hurts and you feel something in your leg and you’re afraid that th...

Not My Story  Ruth Anna Powell The first thing you need to know is that this is not my story to tell. It’s hers. The little girl in the corner, the one with the fake smile, the one who confuses you.  I remember the first time we met. I was alone and I was scared. She reached out her hand and became my first friend. We learned everything together. We grew up together.  But I had no idea. Because we’re just Small Town America, what could happen here? But stuff like this isn’t just gossip, stuff like this is real.  I’ve heard she has a baby now and black hair.  We sat together at Burger King. I told her how sorry I was, and I bought her an apple pie, desperately hoping that a dollar and twenty-nine cents would somehow solve everything. But it didn’t. And it won’t. And that’s ok. Because this is not my story to tell. 

Short Story  By, Ruth Anna Powell  I listened carefully as my kids ran around the bathroom door, making sure they didn't fall. I poured shampoo into my hand, measuring out a small pile in the middle of my palm. I massaged it into my hair, making sure to scrub it into the ends. My kid's laughter rang through the house and I smiled at how cute they were. I started to wash the shampoo out of my hair. I put too much in and had to scrub. Man, I was tired... Bang! The room goes quiet. Something rang in my ears and I ran for the bathroom door, almost tripping over the bathtub ledge. I couldn't hear my kids. I started to think of all sorts of horrible things happening to them. I grabbed the doorknob, trying to get out. The knob stuck and I couldn't get through. I screamed at my kids, telling them I was coming. I rattled the doorknob but it felt like it was glued shut. I started to hear people talking on the other side of the door, screaming. I rammed my...

Creation By, Ruth Anna Powell    The light bulb flickered to life. The crowd gasped and Thomas Edison smiled. "We will make electricity so cheap, only the rich will burn candles!" The crowd erupted into applause and Edison stepped away from the light bulb. He had worked so hard for this day..... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Two months earlier.    He was back to carbon filaments. All that work with platinum and metals like it, and he was back where he had started. He stomped his foot, and immediately felt like a little kid again, stomping his foot when he didn't get his way. "I haven't failed," he reminded himself and went back to his work. He attached a couple of wires and jumped back at the bang. Another two wires, another two ways. This could go on forever!    He put his work down and went for his coat. This was it, he was done! He went to blow out his current light source, then sto...

Keeping Score By, Ruth Anna Powell They watch you. They record every little move you make. Then they broadcast it to the general public. Like today when I grabbed my pencil out from under my little sister in a huff they were watching and my score went down a point. I'll have to be careful. Can't let it get down too low.    You slip up, you make the least little mistake and they are onto you. Then your points go down. But accidents don't bring them up. " Wrong must be punished. Most one does is wrong. One must try to do right."    That's part of her speech. The one at the beginning of the ear. when they reset the boards and reset everyone's view of you.    At the beginning of the year, people are numb. They don't know who they are. Right now there just a 50. A good place. Then about a week in people start to change. When the kid down the street loses ten points on the first day, people fell sorry for his parents and click their tongues...

Heartbeat By, Ruth Anna Powell Up and down, A merry-go-round Beeping and beeping Red and blue. Wavering, wavering, Lying on the seat, Quavering, quavering, Is her heartbeat. Jagged line, Not like mine, Still and straight, A crooked line, A crash, A light, A line, A dash. Blinding light, A honking horn, The car, The crash. Now a jagged heartbeat, Once a dash, A living heartbeat, A song. Her smiling face, Her laughing eyes, I hope that they will see the sunrise, Again. Flickering, flickering, Fading out, Clicking, clicking, Don't leave me now. My sister there, Her gold brown hair, A hug, a kiss, I'd miss all this. A beep, a scream, A hiss, a sob, A click, a call, I can't believe she's gone.

Broken By Ruth Anna Powell Never hurting, Nothing's wrong, Scared of nothing, Still and strong. A tiny quiver, A chink in glass, Scared of nothing, Still and strong. Falling slowly, A deep abyss, Scared of nothing, Must stay strong. A small heartbreak, A slamming door, Scared of nothing, Nothing more. Pain like nothing, Hurt is black, Scared of nothing, Time has passed. Deep in darkness, A tiny crack, Still and strong, Fighting back. A ray of sun, A shining star, Still and strong, Dark no more.