We have now held the Mormon Lit Blitz contest for five years. And we’re pleased to report that Mormon literature is alive and well. Over the past five years we’ve published 60 pieces in the Mormon Lit Blitz contests and 17 pieces in our other contests. Each year, we’ve had the opportunity to share new poems, new essays, and new stories that engage with the fundamental question of what it means to be a Mormon.
It was a tight race this year, with the top four places in question throughout the entire week of voting. And now, readers’ four favorite pieces for the 2016 Mormon Lit Blitz: Continue reading 2016 Mormon Lit Blitz Winner + Updates
We have enjoyed all twelve finalists. But we only have one Grand Prize. Help us decide which piece wins this year’s Lit Blitz by ranking your four favorite pieces in the form below. Continue reading 2016 Mormon Lit Blitz Voting
It almost feels like fate,
and yet I know it isn’t.
Just a chain of choices
long as life itself—
this I say, this not;
this I do, this not;
this I study, ponder,
believe— Continue reading “From the East” by Merrijane Rice
It was Vernon Hamblin found it. He saw it scampering along the side of the highway out on the stretch of the Arizona Strip just north of Molly’s Nipple. Vernon said his first thought was to offer it food. Luckily, he had half a stale Big Hunk bar in his denim jacket. The creature gulped it down and gave him a nod. Vernon nodded at the truck. It climbed right in and sat down.
You might be wondering why I’m telling this story at this difficult, strange time in our nation’s history, but please bear with me for just a moment, brothers and sisters. Continue reading “Last Tuesday” by William Morris
Cold dog tags
press against my chest
under the weight
of kevlar body armor. Their
imprint into my skin.
Name. Social Security Number.
Latter-Day Saint. Continue reading “Rumors of Wars” by Zachary Lunn
It started years ago, probably when the boys were young. I’m convinced that in the fresh-faced newlywed days we sat up in the front, chins tilted up, drinking it all in. But, it wasn’t long before the back was just a better place to make a quick escape when someone screamed, or the infant needed a diaper change, or the two-year-old just kept saying “Amen” loudly over and over half-way through the meeting in hopes that the speaker would wrap it up and we could go home.
And soon it stuck. Like Thoreau before Walden Pond. “How deep the ruts of tradition and conformity” when it comes to sacrament meeting seating, right? Continue reading “The Back Row” by Kelli Swofford Nielsen
FCC Transcript #127621-A
April 6, 2020 GMT 1300 ff
National Network Anchor: … and again, for those just tuning in, two hours ago Earth was contacted by what scientists have confirmed is an alien spacecraft. We go now to the National Radio Astronomy Observatory and Dr. Hans Kepplemann, director of SETI Worldwide. Tell us, Dr. Kepplemann, have you personally spoken to the aliens? Continue reading “Golden Contact” by Lee Allred
Over spelling homework one day, my ten-year-old announced that she didn’t want to go to Hogwarts.
I remembered the lightning bolts and broomsticks doodled in her third-grade notebook margins for a year after I let her read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. She had asked for a scarf in Hufflepuff colors for Christmas that year. One day, she came home crying because her best friend had pointed a backyard stick at her and screamed Crucio. All was forgiven a day later when her friend found Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans at a bookstore and shared her loot.
So when my future Quidditch player declared her intention to turn down any owl post, I was flummoxed. I couldn’t quickly tell her that Hogwarts wasn’t real because she’d been pretty okay with Santa being imaginary, but I think it would have killed her to find out that she’d never have tea with Hagrid. Continue reading “Branch 9 ¾” by Kaki Olsen
I have a gift of tongues. Unfortunately, it’s useless to me on my mission. I throw the Spanish flashcards down on the bed in our small Chilean apartment. “I’m never going to get this. Why does Spanish have to be so hard?”
My trainer, Sister Helm, puts her hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t we take a break? Would you like me to get you something to drink?”
“Sure.” I rub my forehead. A break sounds really good.
She smiles at me sympathetically, then silently leaves the room.
I flop back on the bed. Through the open window, a bird trills, its calls sounding like perfect English in my ears. “This is my tree, and I will boldly defend it from whoever wishes to challenge me.”
I glare out the window. I’ve been able to understand animals my whole life. Continue reading “The Gift of Tongues“ by Annaliese Lemmon
The bags were packed; they stood in a neat row across the entire front wall of the living room; weighed, tagged, ready to march. She’d been up until two filling them. The house had been a bustle at first, with friends bringing food and scraping hard water off bathroom faucets and staring while she tore everything out of that last suitcase to find a new way to make everything fit.
“Don’t you have pillows in America?” asked her visiting teacher as she lay breathless across that last bag and forced it to zip. Continue reading “Requiem for Those People Who Lived Briefly in Your Ward” by Rose Green