I've included some of the stories under the paintings (scroll to the right to see all of the paintings. Their respective stories are posted underneath each.)

Selected stories were published in the January 8th issue of Peninsula Pulse.

Thank you! - Tim

Painting titles
(added later so as to not influence the writers):

#1 - One Night in Montana
#2 - Bait
#3 - Motherload
#4 - Waiting for the Call
#5 - Mr. Roboto
#6 - His parents, now departed
#7 - Stashing the Goods
#8 - Judgement Day
#9 - 5:30 pickup
#10 - Contemplating the Next Move
#11 - Incident at Harper's Corner
#12 - Role Reversal
#13 - Free Will
#14 - The Standoff
#15 - Spill
#16 - Custody Battle
#17 - Your Mission Jim...
#18 - The Realtor
#19 - Oblivious
#20 - Leaving the Nest

Just yesterday we cradled him in our arms
Now he's grown
Leaving home
Heading into a future unknown
As are we

- Tim Nyberg

it was nothing like
what she was accustomed to
but sell it she did

- Tim Nyberg

Coming and Going

She grieves.
She smiles.

She grieves.
The horizon claims her former self,
His love kept her holding on,
They were young, and they loved.
Now drifting apart, he goes over the arc.
She grieves.

She smiles.
Into the harbor comes her joy,
His humor makes her eyes sparkle.
They have only just begun,
But she is sure he can save her.
She smiles.

She grieves.
She smiles.

She grieves.
He isn’t in sight anymore,
Where has he gone?
She is the betrayer, her love the fatal poison.
She grieves.

She smiles.
His face is almost into clear view,
Back from the voyage that kept him.
Finally, life can begin again.
She smiles.

She grieves.
She smiles.

- Olivia Demarinis

vicariously
we lived the lives of agents
back in junior high

our trench coats concealed
secret documents inside
we were mr. phelps

- Tim Nyberg

Interlude

Here I stand,
Gazing down the road before me,
Pondering.
I cannot turn back.
Though sweet the prospect,
Behind lurks a force,
Omnipotent, imponderable
To urge me on my journey:
Time.
He has led me thus far,
Will not let me retreat,
Nor wait for long.
But now I pause,
Though I must advance.

The encroaching Darkness
Drowns out all else
But the road.
Confined to a bridge of Earth
That teeters above the beckoning abyss.
And behind,
The shadow,
Obsidian black,
Radiant,
Driving me on.
In solitude I face this journey,
Of Chaos and Order,
The Beginning,
Middle,
End.

Finally, I find the courage to raise my foot,
But I cannot.
The Darkness suffocates
Constricts.
Strangling me with its vacuous force.
Time growls behind me,
In agitation.
It stalks closer,
I hear its thirsty fangs.
And Here I stand.

- Graham Edwards

Midlife Crisis

5:00.
time to go home.
pack briefcase.
walk 2 paces left. 20 paces forward.
press down.
walk 2 paces.
press g.
walk 20 paces.
Enter the night with it’s cloak rent by
Anger, Madness, Fatigue, and Hopelessness.
stand 5 minutes.
watch your step.
find seat.
sit 15 minutes.
stand.
find door.
walk 4 paces.
Curse the night with your futile cries.
“When will the madness end?” you question.
calm down.
go home.
say hello.
eat dinner.
kiss wife.
go to sleep.
Dream of a life where the maddening
Massacre of the office doesn’t exist.
wake up.
turn off alarm.
get dressed.
eat grapefruit.
kiss wife.
go to work.
Enter a world whose inhabitants are animated
Trousers, Jackets, Ties, and Loafers.
do job.
eat lunch.
do job.
cry.
compose.
5:00.
time to go home.

Repeat until your heart overpowers your mind,
And you become Free.

- Liz Stubenvoll

See how you like it
You do physical labor
I'll watch you toil

- Tim Nyberg

Elbowroom

As long as I can remember I have struggled
Born in the ghetto and raised in denial
Fighting for a greater good
Rebelling from an oppression older than the hills

I come to USA to make better life for family
I leave them behind to find work
Without them I feel incomplete
With them I feel small and frail

The red blood of my people
Staining the pavements and hands
Of this “great” country
Emancipation brought me to this ledge
I fear privilege will bring down

I work many long hours
I have not seen my children in many months
I barely make enough to live myself
To think that they call this land of opportunity

I work to break from my mold
My place far below the apex of society
I silently bide my time
To break from my cocoon
To show the world yet another uprising

As a child in my home country
I make believe that I come to America
I think that if I could only live there
I would be a very rich man, I have no problems
I was wrong, I was very wrong

I silently stand on the ledge
Staring into a abyss of mental slavery…
Rise with me brothers and sisters
Let us become one!

I no like American system
There is no break for Mexican immigrant
I was professor in my old country
Here I am slave

We shall condescend this imposed martial law!
We make country better for all!
Out with the totalitarian tyrants!
We make country better for all!

- Sam Kahr

Confronted by the unknown
He wielded his weapon
She stepped in front
Extending a greeting
The lived together in peace

- Tim Nyberg

Untitled

What can I do with this amoral mass of Ugly you have created?
You didn't give me a soul, you provided me no conscience, no feelings of compassion.
So, look at the two of you, hands raised against the other. Have YOU no soul, no love?
In my memory bank I recall what humans do to bring peace to this world, and I will obey you, my master.
I will exterminate you.

- Dorothy Nyberg

pausing to contemplate his next move
he took a long draw on his pipe

he thought of his career
he thought of his family

he thought of his dad
and what might have been

he made the right decision

it's your move.

- Tim Nyberg

the simple robbery
led to murder

the loot was stashed in the mailbox

at 5:32 pm,
the postman drew his last breath

- Tim Nyberg

- Nathan Fearing

Untitled

Look, dear family! Did we ever dream such a dream-come-true?
Our own fresh, green land, a new beginning, a new life away from the city's perils and constrictions.
Look at the verdant fields ready to bless us with new birth.
Now, don't ever look back. Nothing can stop us now!

- Dorothy Nyberg

People say I don’t believe. I disagree.
I may try to block things out as I turn
My back to things that bring me down,
I do believe. Not in those places, or any
Of that funny stuff. But rather it’s me and
My body. I like to rise above peoples’
Nonsense and fiddle-faddle.
Good afternoon, I am a lawyer. But, I
Have a problem. I lost my suitcase.
Work is very important and I believe it
Is the most amazing thing in the world.
Why, yes I do believe. It’s not like I am
Obsessed or anything. Well, I have
Gone a few times when I was younger.
But I do believe in working hard. Wait,
Have you seen my suitcase?...
Oh well, I guess I’ll just keep looking.
Well, yes we do believe. We think that
It’s everywhere, and it’s very vital to our
Lives. But, it’s not just one thing or being
But multiple. We keep our children
Involved. We also believe that we can
Have safety and comfort in all of the
Aspects of it. But, where do we go?

- Dylan Johnson

Comatose Chaos

Obstacles of light –
Tranquility feathered
In chilled grooves,
Creamed against
A cooling void

Fresh feet gliding
Through mint cream fields,
Sweet future streaming
Across a coolly-dreamed
Sunburst movie screen

Hot streaks
Of guiding emptiness
Spread over
Sculpted scenes

Spirals of inquiry,
Vast smears of
Shattered sensation
And smooth
Severed songs

Shadows of life,
The curled serenity
of death,
Twisting through
A spectrum of
Joyful sins.

- Sarah Swanson

The girl cries as half her face is gone
She can’t feel it yet
But is aware of the outcome
The blood dripping from her face
The gun hitting the floor of the dead cellar
She got caught
And was not found
The girl thrown in the old wheat farm where she grew up
A grassy lonely plain where everyone would overlook
The guy felt guilty at first
But that’s what he did
It was just another girl like any other of the wheat farm

- Alex Larsen

Desperate and Armed with a Wheelbarrow

Her parts—her precious parts.
Her arms the victims of haphazard bloodshed
And her sweet heart: murdered by the crows.
The crimson pool of dank blood
Creeps slowly down the incline of the
Damned city streets
Where human bodies
Are pilfered for the last of their visceral value
And passerby trot uncaring
Over the freshly slain cadavers.
A man—her man—
Sights her otherwise indiscernible body
By her locket which now graces
The grimy, bloodstained gutter.
He vainly and desperately gathers
As much of his wife’s dripping remains
As he can—into his wheelbarrow.
The salt form his eyes mixing with the salt from her blood
Creates the horrifying stench of his reckless
Dejection
As he wheels his most perilous and precious vessel
To her proper grave
A sudden stone
Stumbles the cart
On the edge of a precipice
A repugnant cascade of his ruby darling
Plunges before him, and dies over the edge
His vanity proved.

- Kirsten Logerquist

The separate cadences independently move forward
They disassociate more with each slow second
The rhythms, different, are alternating
Further
Further
Until they reach a momentary standstill
Between syncs.
Backs to each other, they are still
There is a fleeting silence
All has been laid out
Now it’s time to contemplate
Dissolve into two worlds
Or work to be back in time

- Eliza Pelrine

The Standoff

He'd hold his ground.
It wasn't like him to give in.
She didn't budge either.
Together they ruined a perfect day.

- Tim Nyberg

Potty Break

Doug was born with a small bladder. It wasn't his fault. Still, Sheila became annoyed. She had urged him to take his potty break at the last exit. He didn't listen. Now, here she was — waiting patiently while the man she loved relieved himself. When Doug finished he would say 'okie dokie' and clap his hands before heading back to the car. Sheila had been here before... she knew the script well.

Then again, the trees were beautiful and neither of them was in a hurry to endure his aunt's cooking.

- Jake Nyberg

I sit here above her, looking…watching.
She cannot see me, nor will she ever.
Our love is not possible, for we
Come from different worlds where it’s not.

We are of different race, color, and class.
Yet me heart yearns for her touch.
Though I know, only my eyes
Can absorb her pure beauty.

I sit in this world of slanted values,
And only hope that one day,
Our love may be true. But for now,
She will be my forbidden love.

- Julia Spellman

Help Me Up

Hey, you up there! Can I come up, too?

I don't know. Can you? I worked many years to reach this pinnacle. Hard work, disappointments, people who...

But, I'm talented. People love me. I'm applauded wherever I go...

Hah, people! Can you handle jealousy,discouragement, loneliness, hunger? It takes courage and strength to climb this tower of fame.

Yes, I can and I have the will.

Well, I have climbed it with many sorrows accompanying me on every step. Now I look down from up here and see you and many others who seek the stars. And I must tell the truth-it's lonely up here.

Please, can you help me up?

Please, please, help me down!

- Dorothy Nyberg

no one in town knew
what ever happened to Ann
except mr. jones

- Tim Nyberg

High Wire Act

Why does she cry when he leaves?
She is old enough to know now,
Old enough not to cry.
He doesn’t understand,
She knows he has to work.
Why does she cry like this?

He’ll be late if he doesn’t get
To the station soon. She knows that.
He will be home soon, he soothes.
Try to be a good girl.

He hopes there won’t be complaints
From school today, that she’ll be good.
Why can’t she just listen to the teacher?
Enough of this acting out nonsense,
She needs to grow up and be brave.
Stop crying, he murmurs again.

The train will leave without him,
They’ll hire another conductor.
He could get fired, something he can’t
Afford right now. Please stop!
She is okay, and he steps off the red porch.
She is fine, he reassures. She’s fine.

He gets a call on the train home.
She ran away from school at recess.
Not again, he thinks. Why?
He arrives home; she’s on the red porch.
What happened today? Nothing.
That’s not what I heard.

Before he can ask more, she’s gone.
Up again in the wires, he thinks.
Come down! I won’t!
Please, he says, don’t hurt yourself.
He rubs his temples,
This is too much. He looks up,
She is walking the ropes,
It isn’t the first time she’s tried this stunt.

Please, he prays, make her stop.
He can’t see that all she wants is him,
And her high wire act is for him.
He just can’t seem to understand.
Why won’t she just stop?

- Olivia Demarinis

Ladies and gentlemen please,
Can you bring your attention to me?
I have something for your eyes to see
I’m going to do something you have never seen before
Look closely as I’m going to jump through this mail box door
After I do this I will have you all begging for more

Good evening ladies and gentlemen
Can you believe what you have been seeing?
Please don’t worry don’t start weeping
What I’m am doing will make it hard for anyone to think about sleeping
Hold now because the show is not over please move closer
You might want to sit down because what you see might make you fall over
Welcome to the show
Ladies and gentlemen

- Sam Forkert

The Paper Boy

He is the king of the neighborhood,
or so he believes.
He watches over the territory like watching his Saturday morning cartoons.
Everything seems to be going smoothly this afternoon.
There are the early morning runners out,
and also the family men in their business suits ready to start their day.
What would they all do without him?
With his right hand rocket he provides all of their knowledge needs.
It is his land and they are his peasants.
Riding his steed through the vicinity he calculates his tosses.
Day after day he is successful.
But what do you expect from a king?

- Ian Johnson

suddenly
it became time
to meet their maker

little did they know
that their entire lives were spent
trying to earn
what was already theirs

- Tim Nyberg

One day two people, a husband and a wife, were put into a time capsule. They were sent through a whirlwind of colors and oblivion. They landed on a small cube block in the middle of the sky. This was either a time in the distant future or past. The sky was white and had a red streak going through it. As the two were trying desperately to find a way down they realized there was no way down at all. After moments of contemplation they noticed a giant that had approached them from behind. It had a bowl cut hairdo. They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity when he made a move toward them.
He put out his hand. Not knowing how else they would get anywhere they jumped into his outreached hand. He started walking and walking and walking till they reached their final destination. It looked like a hut big enough for beings his size. The inside was warm and smelled like raw animal. He set them on a giant table and offered them a piece of meat fit for their small stature. They tried desperately to try and communicate with the giant but he had not understood a word they were saying. All he heard was a small peep coming from their mouths. The frightened couple looked around the hut and noticed the hide of a large animal it looked different from any other animal they had seen in their time.
They had been in this hut for what they estimated about a month. The gentle giant had been feeding them continuously. A few days later the giant had returned to the hut empty handed they had noticed this for the past couple of days. The giant grew hungrier everyday and every evening he would return to the hut without any food. Then one day upon his return he ate the two little humans that had shared his company.

- Allen Peterson

I find myself alone in this world,
Here I stand, deserted,
Nobody to turn to.
Wait there is one...

She used to be everything to me.
The way she delicately curled
Her hair around her pinky
And how her laugh placed
A genuine smile on my face no
Matter how hard I fought it.

Do I call Her?
I can’t, I have nothing to say.
She has moved on now and
Deserves her new life without
Me standing by her side.
I was not the man she needed
Me to be, the man I can never be.

The loneliness….
It’s beginning to envelop my soul.
Its cruel, cold grasp has finally found me.
I have nothing…Wait the phone, I can do it,
I will call her after all these years.
I will once again feel her comforting embrace
And the way she snuggly fit under
My once proud chin….
The loneliness finds me once again
And I remain outside the phone booth.

- Adam Breseman

Joe the Businessman

Joe likes to be alone. He was on a business trip and liked where he went so much because he was quiet, unlike his normal life. He can throw is normal life away or call home and ask for someone to come get him. Joe loves his normal life but everyone needs to get away for a while. He wants to call his wife and tell her to move the kids out there because he enjoys it so much. He doesn’t have a long time to decide what to do because this place is going to disappear. Joe is a very rich person and doesn’t have a lot of friends so if he would leave his normal life no one would care if he was gone. He would also have a lot of money so he wouldn’t have to worry about being poor in this new place. Joe loves this place because of how big and blue the sky is and how green and thick the grass is. In his normal life, he lived in the city and hated the smog and how he couldn’t see the stars at night. Here he can see the stars and the beauty of the earth.

- Laine Johnson

How dare you oppress your fellow man
Couldn’t you see that we are brethren
Telling them their lives were void of meaning
Depriving them of the freedom this nation rejoices
The pursuit of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Did you grant them any of these promises
Or did you deny them these God given rights
Emptiness was found in your soul
Where Empathy should have been
Our equals suffered under your tyranny
Your equals, not your possessions
They were not yours to own
You should be ashamed that your cruelty, your ignorance
Forced them to dig to their freedom
The only way they could, the Underground Railroad
With the help of those few with morals
Who because of you, had to perform their deeds in secret
They had to stand up for justice
By sitting down and hoping to go unnoticed
You should be ashamed
Because you couldn’t see that we are brethren

- Erik Emanuelson

Untitled

The air is heavy, filled with dust;
Lungs work to capacity,
Hampered by torrid heat.
Beads of sweat line my brow,
Painting my body in a shiny gloss;
Blackened with the grime of the Earth.
Burying itself beneath my fingernails, and under my arms.

My senses blunted by the taste and smell of ash and burning carbon.

I turn my head to the left,
One other bears this hell as I do, with me,
Together we have become warriors of this dark place,
Comrades striving for salvation, while laying in a grave.
He stands there with his shovel.

I wonder, how much more of this can he take?

Looking even further, I see light;
Not like the type originating from a lantern, but genuine light.
Its brilliance raining in a beam that looks as if it could crush a man,
Smiting all evil within this lair.
An escape just out of reach.

But wait, it darkens as I watch.
Time passes as though hours last only minutes.
The day is subsiding to its royal chambers.
My heart jumps, this means only an hour left

Could it be?

I don’t recall any notion of time, lost in this dazed illusion,
A mirage across the barren floor.
The horn sounds in the distance;
The other man starts his leave of this nightmare.
Till tomorrow, I am FREE.

- Kelson Warner

I sit here, alone
waiting.
Wondering if I’m ready
The phone keeps ringing
Louder, louder
Screaming
Echoing through my mind
Like music
To the flashbacks of my life
Rolling across the blank screen
Again.
He calls me again, the ringing
Too many questions
Do I go?
Is this right?
The time is now…

I choose my fate.

Heart racing as I fall
relentlessly,
I close my eyes, one last breath
Here’s to forever…
I’m ready.

- Brynn Anschutz

Waiting…

What is a telephone booth? A few years ago they were popular and found everywhere in city and in desolate areas. The device allows for a person to share ideas, thoughts and information to another place instantaneously. Fourteen years ago Juan left his son Pablo in Mexico with his mother. They all lived on a family farm that grew three different kinds of chili peppers, one of which were the hottest you can eat. Wanting his son to have the ability to learn and go to school, Juan moved to the United States working on a cotton farm for a nice family. He would help pick cotton, clean the house and help prepare meals in exchange for a decent sized paycheck. Every month Juan sends his son and mother most if not all the money he earned. Along with this money on the first of the month, his son sits near the town’s only working phone booth, where he waits for his father’s call. He waits in the late afternoon into late evening, twittling his thumbs and staring up into the sky. When the phone rings feelings of joy and excitement rush through his body until he answers the phone, hearing the voice he has almost forgotten but still remembers. Missing and longing to see the man, only a picture reminding him of the man once in charge of his farm. Talking to him reminds him of the goats and cows they had along with the acres of chili peppers from one side of horizon to the other. But there he sits, waiting... waiting in the dark, rainy afternoon, alone.

- Zachary Kunstman

The Stranger in the Booth

I have been sitting on this wall for a long time waiting for my turn to use the phone. The stranger entered the booth a few seconds before me, walking with a slight limp and hunched shoulders. He slowly closed the door.I turned then and sat down to wait. I was in no hurry. I wondered what happenstance had placed this accommodation in such a desolate area.

The sky grew darker  and a chill breeze made me aware that it would soon be desert cold. The man in the booth must be having a very serious conversation. Who spoke on the other end of the line? Were they laughing, crying, arguing, praying?

As I watched, a singularly amazing thing was happening. A shaft of bright light arose from the booth and ascended slowly into the blackening sky, piercing the cloud layers until the top was out of my sight. A tiny star from some celestial galaxy appeared briefly, then disappeared.

My heart pounding, I slid off from the wall. I didn't go to the booth. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't be there.

- Dorothy Nyberg

One Night in Montana (haiku)

Hello, Angela?
Did you see the sky tonight?
Totally awesome!

- Tim Nyberg

Untitled

It’s getting to be that time again,
Or so the story goes.
It’s getting to be that time again,
With mortals yet to know.
In the darkness he creeps along,
A dark lord, bitter, cold.
Under the moon he slinks along,
Conceal the kings of old.
The fog comes a-blowing,
The lost-and-found of the dead.
The old man is rowing,
Hanging low his cruel old head.

Along comes a brilliant sun,
Flaunting her coat of light.
The night is very near done,
The old man cannot fight.
“Take your kings, and take your thanes; leave me to my morning.
Soldiers, peasants, court, domain,
Gone, Soul-keeper! This is your only warning.”

The Winds of Change will serve none,
Not the darkness nor the sun.
A stray breeze, swift and done,
All a Night Lord needs to run.

Blow away the mist of souls,
Back to its long-lost realm.
Blow away the mist of souls,
Away to where time stands still.

- Samantha Blackledge

Midnight Stroll

Miss Moon holds fast and grabs my attention
Not much to do but pray for redemption
It’s kind of late and somewhat cold
This insomnia is seriously getting old
Miss Moon tells me life’s all yin and yang
And whispers to me in her solar slang
“I Promise not to wax or wane”
My misplaced security wishes for the same
These clouds crawl back leaving me exposed
leave! I’m in need some real repose
Your Cyclops stare cuts out my past
My cheeks blush red don’t look aghast
Revealing me to your shrewd perceptions
I see now, all my bad decisions
Please dear heaven let me rest
I won’t be lumped in with all the rest
When she is at her full bright size
It is impossible to sleep with all these lies
Maybe, the reason her light keeps me awake
Is because it shows me as such a flake
Repentance, please take me with your shrouded hand
And fly me somewhere with lots of sand

- Iain McNeil

Haze

One simple circle, the light of the dark
The encompassing haze that winds around the white washed sun signals a storm
A person in a raincoat, another signal of the storm watches the silent movements arise
Controlling every thunderhead cloud, bolt of lightning, is the boss of night
It is what we call the moon
It brings silence to the blanket of darkness that deafens the ear from a ringing bell
It lifts the head to glance at the mysterious stars who stare back dissolving the mind
All of this can grasp the attention in a single moment
Winning over every mind in an unspoken voice to control yet another thing
For the moon is the boss of night and dwelling long enough in it can create a trance that will
Keep you standing until it no longer has control
Where the day comes and takes away all unspoken silence of the night

- Marcelle Savard

Enough for Tonight

Every single tear is for you.
Everything I say is for you.
Every night I pray for you.
You’re always in my mind.

And so I walk alone tonight
Although I wish I could hold you tight.
Never wanting to let go.
Just as long as you know.
I Love You So.

And so I stand here in the rain
But the pain will remain.
Even though it’s night,
I know I’ll be all right.

- Hailey Salmeri, Sevastopol