Category: Quick Work

Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Scarlet Box

Issue 6 | Refuge

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2025 Spring/Summer issue, REFUGE.

Photo from PiedmontPhoto

Scarlet Box

by Dulce María Reyes Bonilla

A U.S. consular interview concludes Mami’s septennial wait. My mother is fifty-four and stern. I’m seventeen, there to assist, betting my hope for freedom on her migration dream. 

The officer scans us. We resemble future FLOTUS Obama more than Barbara Bush.

“She is?”

“Daughter.”

She nods, stamping APPROVED thrice.  

“And bring her in three weeks with everything listed here,” she instructs my gleeful and stunned mother. 

Splatter from Mami’s luck shocks me with bittersweetness.

Unbeknownst to me, but not the consul, I’m still becoming. And here’s a scarlet box: fire extinguisher and axe included. Fire will emerge in due time.

About the Writer

Dulce María Reyes Bonilla, a Bay Path MFA candidate, wrote this piece in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2025 spring semester.

Photo of a bathroom cabinet with a mirror and sink.
Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

What the Bathroom Cabinet Holds

Issue 6 | Refuge

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2025 Spring/Summer issue, REFUGE.

A photo of a mirrored, wood-framed bathroom cabinet hung over a sink.
Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

What the Bathroom Cabinet Holds

by Janet Marler

For forty years, the cabinet hung above the toilet in a house where a family was born, a child grew up, and a mother died.

“Sure, honey,” he said when his new wife suggested a remodel, “but this cabinet is in good shape, and it’s one hundred percent oak—you don’t see that nowadays. No MDF.”

Perhaps he was conditioned to look for the things that might be salvaged. He pointed out the wood trim around the front panels.

 “When do you notice the details of anything in this house?” she asked, surprised.

 “Every time I pee,” he answered.

About the Writer

Janet Marler, a Bay Path MFA candidate, wrote this piece in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2025 spring semester.

Photo of an iridescent blue bubble floating in front of a while cloud in a blue sky.
Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Iridescence

Issue 6 | Refuge

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2025 Spring/Summer issue, REFUGE.

Translucent blue bubble against a partly cloudy blue sky.
Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

Iridescence

by Kerri Call

Violence blew through my neighborhood like dust devils. Poverty scorched dreams. My mother concocted her own serum to blow a bubble big enough to hold me. I floated above the prickly Arizona desert, my bubble obscuring and shielding me from its harsh and unforgiving landscape.

On a breeze, I drifted off to college in Hawaii where I overheard fellow students call bubble-dwellers naive and overprotected. My own bubble now punctured, I found myself—finally—grounded. I marveled at it all, this tropical island paradise, this life of beauty and ease. A new iridescence.

About the Writer

Kerri Call, a Bay Path MFA candidate, wrote this piece in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2025 spring semester.

Photo of a small fuzzy terrier-mix dog laying on its back among pillows.
Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Fuzzy

Issue 6 | Refuge 2

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2025 Spring/Summer issue, REFUGE.

Small terrier dog with floppy pink ears lying on its back among sofa cushions.
Photo by Juliet James

Fuzzy

by Juliet James

Sleep does not give me respite when it deigns to take me
Vivid dreams disturb my slumber nightly
Once I could wrap my body around his or be held in his embrace
And love would ease my anxious mind
But chronic pain stole this from us

Now comfort only comes from the small dog
Tucked under my blanket, behind my knees
His warm little body relaxes me,
Stops my spiraling thoughts
And I find enough peace to fall

Even if the landing won’t be soft
His presence always is

About the Writer

Juliet James, a Bay Path MFA candidate, wrote this piece in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2025 spring semester.

Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work: Out of Control No. 3

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2024 Spring/Summer issue, OUT OF CONTROL.

A Narrow A-Frame Silver and Glass Hallway

First Night

by Jeanne Ryan

Four AM. I am suddenly awake—about to be sick from the sleep medications they gave me. I jump out of bed, my blood pressure plummeting. My head spins. Stumbling out of my room, I find the nurse halfway up the hall.

“I’m going to throw up,” I spit out.

“Let’s get you to a bathroom.” he says.

But we don’t get that far.

I am vomiting. And vomiting. Before I feel myself sliding down the nearest wall. I come to a stop when my head lands on the tile floor.

Welcome to your first night on West 5.

Photo by Cory Mogk on Unsplash

Silver Farmhouse Kitchen Sink with Gold Colored Cabinets Against a Large Picture Window

Only a Dish Away

by Sarah Chrosniak

One day, I’ll make a dent in the dishes, not have a pile of laundry to do, and live in a crumb-free world. Four wild children, homeschooling, volunteering, and a job with increasing hours and no pay raise.

I need help? I’ve learned not to say.

Time is moving, but I am not. Stagnant in my skin, afraid to be myself or who I hope to be.

You are worthy, I wish I believed.

One day, you will miss all of this, I tell myself.

I blindfold myself with gratitude, and wait for the spin cycle to finish.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

About the Writers

Jeanne Ryan and Sarah Chrosniak, Bay Path MFA candidates, wrote these pieces in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2024 spring semester.

The Quick Work series is curated by Kate Whouley and Heidi Fettig Parton.

Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work: Out of Control No. 2

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2024 Spring/Summer issue, OUT OF CONTROL.

Dark-haired Man Wearing a Coat and Facing Forward with a Cell Phone at his Left Ear

Another Night Life

by William Grussenmeyer

“Work all night?” I asked into the phone.

“Until six am,” Amos said.”

“At that sewage facility?”

“Yep. Still here. Gotta keep the homeless out.”

“Out of a sewage place?”

“They steal anything they can. Or sleep inside.

There’s an encampment right outside.” He paused for a few seconds. “I gotta watch out for the serial killer too.”

“Did you say serial killer?”

“Some guy going around killing homeless people.
They know who he is. Can’t find him. Cause he’s homeless, too.”

“I haven’t seen anything on the news?” I asked.

“News don’t care,” Amos said.

Photo by Tommy van Kessel on Unsplash

Pink and red Splotchy Wall Stain that Resembles Modern Art

Divorce by Ketchup

by Robyn Weaver

I blame Heinz.

They had to go and change the labels on their ketchup bottles, and if they had never done that, Daniel would have never come up with the idea that I was trying to poison him, or that Heinz was somehow in on it. I would have never said how crazy that sounded, and he would have never thrown his dinner plate against the wall, leaving that permanent gash that bled red for days until I had the heart to wipe it clean.

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

About the Writers

William Grussenmeyer and Robyn Weaver, Bay Path MFA candidates, wrote these pieces in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2024 spring semester.

The Quick Work series is curated by Kate Whouley and Heidi Fettig Parton.

QuickWorks Featured Image Number 1
Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work: Out of Control No. 1

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in 100 words or fewer, writers make quick work of compelling true stories, in the lead up to Multiplicity’s 2024 Spring/Summer issue, OUT OF CONTROL.

Man and Woman Tucked in Close to one Another, Holding Hands on Sofa

It Will Be Okay

by Monica Deck

“Baby. Tell me I’m not having a heart attack.”

This happens a couple of times a month, if my meds are off or I’m in a pain flare, or if the sun rises in the east or the butterfly flaps its wings on Tuesday in New Mexico.

We sit on the couch. On a deep sinus inhale, his fingertips find mine, dry pads slightly rough from frequent washing.

Palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

He brings my hand to his lips.

 “You’re not having a heart attack,” he murmurs against my skin, and kisses my hand again.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash.

Close-up of a Woman’s Painted Red Lips and Half Smile

The Lips that Deceive

by Sarah Leete Tsitso

I’ve mastered the fake smile. You’d never guess what’s really behind my upturned lips—exhaustion, frustration, anger—bubbling just underneath the spot where my long-absent tonsils once lived.

Years spent networking, business cards clutched in one hand and vodka soda in the other. Playing that role—pretending to care about your boat docked in Narragansett—has eaten away chunks of me. Death by 1,000 hours of small talk. Boredom and fury masked by my favorite shade of lipstick.

The smile doesn’t reach my eyes. To notice, you’d have to look up from my breasts. But that seems unlikely.

Photo by Cesar La Rosa on Unsplash.

About the Writers

Monica Deck and Sarah Leete Tsitso, Bay Path MFA candidates, wrote these pieces in the Multiplicity Studio class during the 2024 spring semester.

The Quick Work series is curated by Kate Whouley and Heidi Fettig Parton.

Two pomegranates and a person in ski clothing
Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work No. 10

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in flash nonfiction, writers make quick work of telling compelling stories.

Border Collie on a beach, wet and smiling

The Existential Wisdom of Border Collies

by Jones Irwin

A veteran winter swimmer, Cathy, suited up, dives in with her Border Collie, Rossi. 

Rossi, his black and white coat soaked through, remembers previous masters who didn’t appreciate his exuberant energy, who tried to beat the happiness out of his hardy body. 

I’ve chosen not to invest in a wet suit as, frankly, they look ridiculous. My extremities feel like they are going to fall off, and not just my hands. 

Rossi, healed by Cathy and the waves, knows that none of us are here for very long, and we might as well die by extremity as by anything else.

Photo by C Perret on Unsplash

Perons in colorful plaid jacket and ski goggles

Winter Season

by Sharon Goldberg

I sling my skis over my right shoulder, the non-arthritic one. They’re girlie skis with green and yellow polka dots, the edges sharp to carve turns through hard-packed snow and ice, the bottoms freshly waxed to glide through soft snow and powder. My bindings are calibrated to release if I take a major tumble. A neoprene brace anchors my funky left knee. I’m no expert or daredevil, but I have taken risks. Will I today? I feel the flutter that proceeds my first run of the morning. I’m sixty-six, but I like to think I haven’t peaked yet. 

Photo courtesy of the author

Solo Trip to Mamani, 1995

by Maria Luisa Arroyo Cruzado

Two pomegranates on dark cloth with a black background

Among bobbing black chadors and bearded men in the Khomeini Airport, I hear Mamani’s  “Maria-jan!” She rushes, embraces me, her daughter-in-law.
*
Later, Mamani and her daughters laugh as I reach toward salamanders skittering up cement walls. Palm huge pomegranates. Fumble with the chador slipping from my head like rain.
*
I was 28, and months before my trip, Mamani lost the man she loved. Her only living son had named Mamani’s brother the executor of the world she was not allowed to claim.
*
At supper, when I praised her cooking, Mamani asked me: What else do I have?

Photo by Cath Smith on Unsplash

About the Writers

Multilingual Boricua poet & intersectional feminist educator María Luisa Arroyo Cruzado writes about her experiences with the four cultures and languages that inform her identity and her creativity: Puerto Rican Spanish, American English, German, and Farsi.

Sharon Goldberg is a Seattle writer whose work has appeared in anthologies and literary magazines, including The Gettysburg Review, New Letters, The Louisville Review, Cold Mountain Review, River Teeth, Jellyfish Review, Southern Indiana Review and Gargoyle.

Jones Irwin describes himself as a postmodern existentialist, a dash of noir mixed in with a progressivist ethic. He teaches Philosophy and Education in Dublin, Republic of Ireland, and writes across the genres of philosophy, fiction and poetry.

The Quick Work series is curated by Multiplicity Executive Editor, Kate Whouley.

Quick Work lettering, a person looking out a window, and yellow shopping carts
Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work No. 9

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in micro-flash nonfiction, writers make quick work of compelling stories.

Black and white photo of person looking out a window with their chin resting in their hand

Ages and Ages

by Linda McCullough Moore

Every age a different state. 
I write to you today from Utah. 
Last night, as evening fell 
they put me on the train. 
That sullen gulley of the day, 
old crickets starting up in earnest, 
swelter of late summer’s day 
no match for sudden, not unwelcome, 
wind, and then, a different darkness.
By sun-up, here arrived at one 
more age, new state, new bird, 
a different governor, some brand 
new state motto I will need to learn; 
very likely something about freedom, 
probably in Latin.

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Photo of yellow shopping carts stacked together in a wet parking lot

In the Night

by Matthew Berg

Rising to the handle, my feet planted on the bottom bar. Elbows extending outward as wings. A way is made down the row between the cars. Pushing the cart as a scooter, greater speeds are achieved. Flying, though still on the ground. In the night, by the lights of the store parking lot. The child inside says, Enjoy! I do.

A way is made through it all, flying together, the child and the adult, redefining freedom, and living in the night.

Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash

About the Writers

Linda McCullough Moore is a poet and the author of story collections, a novel, an essay collection, and more than 350 shorter works. Her many awards include the Pushcart Prize. www.lindamcculloughmoore.com

Matthew Berg is a renaissance man: husband, father, working writer, and follower of Jesus. Originally from the Midwest, he is now living in the South.

The Quick Work series is curated by Multiplicity Executive Editor, Kate Whouley.

Quick Work lettering, a black cat, and colorful balloons
Blog, Quick Work, Short-Form Creative Nonfiction

Quick Work No. 8

Quick Work: Short Takes on Epic Truths

Here, in micro-flash nonfiction, writers make quick work of compelling stories.

close up of black cat

My Dead Kitty and My Indifferent Lover Pay Me A Visit

by Peter Houle

Eyes closed,
I feel Midnight’s padded paws on my chest,
pushing me upright
as I fall forward on them:
an impossible game of trust between man-child
and white-booted black cat,
long in the ground where,
sobbing at 18,
I laid him with a can of tuna.
It’s late; I rush to the antiques market
with my books; postcards;
a pair of golden, old-man spectacles;
an 80s World Cup souvenir plate;
open my chair and my mind
to face my buyers and my dream,
for you were there, too;
but it was Midnight gently catching me
before I hit the ground.

Photo by Kate Whouley

colorful balloons on a white ceiling

Birthday Party Behavior

by Elana Margot Santana

When I was four, my mother caught me and my friend Nikki on the bathroom floor with our velvet dresses pulled up to our necks, our white tights pulled down to our ankles, and our bodies pressed together. This was my first experience of coming out.

“This isn’t birthday party behavior,” my mother said, standing in the doorway.

I don’t remember feeling ashamed, just interrupted. My mother’s response that day was more of a lesson in etiquette than anything else. I wasn’t being sinful or wrong—it was just rude of me to keep the other kids waiting.

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

About the Writers

Peter Houle, a Vermonter, began planting seeds in Portugal seven years ago. You can find him at the Feira da Ladra, selling things he finds on the street or makes himself. He likes cats, obviously.

Elana Margot Santana is a writer, scholar, and visual artist living in the mountains of Colorado. Her work explores trauma, grief, queerness and multispecies embodiment. Recent publication credits include The Longridge Review and The Dewdrop.

The Quick Work series is curated by Multiplicity Executive Editor, Kate Whouley.