My name is Kseniya Serova-Wood. I am Dr. Kseniya Serova-Wood–that is how I usually introduce myself to my students. I would also add, “If it is too complicated, you can call me Miss Wood.” For the last five years I
Youthful, longing, I am forever searching for the path That path of dreams and belief A troubled past Emptiness pulls at me In the mirror I see my eyes and I cry out to look and feel alive In a
May your midnight thoughts Keep your fantasies alive For tomorrow will come And my dreams will disappear Until the clock strikes midnight Once again Our memories will stay alive
“Whatever you do, no climbing any trees while I’m gone,” my mother had said before she left the house to go shopping. The simple warning had slipped out of her mouth, fallen to the floor, wiggled through the carpet, squeezed
Dill was dead. The explosion shook the bullet resistant windows of the humvee. “Motherfuckingsonofabitch!” Galleon jerked the cumbersome vehicle around the fireball that replaced the armored humvee in front of ours, swerving drunkenly on the poorly paved road. “Herring bone!
The gentle hills blush. The red sun rises above them. Haze spreads into the shallow valleys. There is a smell of damp wool mixed with good earth. Sheep bleat and stir. Dawn. And still Samuel remains alert. This is Samuel’s