Stories Worth Telling. Rollick.

In the bedroom they used to share, the real estate agent opens the blinds, letting in the mid- morning sun, then walks toward the desk and jots down her first notes: Office chair required. Small plant. Too many books.

How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape? Such photos may lend a sense of quiet to the onlooker, but in reality, such scenes are not silent. 

Hauling my suitcase up the unevenly-paved alley, I glance at the second-storey room I share with Komal.

Mister Pope stood in line at the Bank D’Amemzionne, where he’d come to make his regular cash withdrawal to cover the upcoming week’s expenses.

Prize Banner_2021-min

Are you a writer?

Join the
Rollick community

From the Archives

This is What You Do

I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.

What I Can No Longer See

“I’m thankful I’m not a horse,” Marla says, as she reaches for the saltine sleeve inside her tote bag.

101

Improv class was how
I learned to say what
I wanted to say to you–

Get the Most Recent Stories from Rollick

A weekly newsletter featuring new and emerging writers.

Fiction

Prize

2021

Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
This Prize has now closed.