Topics | Domestic Violence | The Sun Magazine #3


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Domestic Violence

Readers Write


Water balloons, an underground fort, the letter c

By Our Readers July 2011
Readers Write

The Back Door

Catching fireflies, caring for a newborn calf, hearing a slamming door for the first time

By Our Readers April 2011
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

A Brother’s Keeper

My sister Asia loved to kick my ass. The violence began when she was ten and I was eight, after our mother started dating Freddy, a tall, bulky, dark-skinned man who chewed his tongue between sentences and had a booming laugh that sounded like it could topple buildings and crush small boys.

By Akhim Yuseff Cabey February 2011
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Under The Moonflower Tree

I sit on the curb in the shade of the bay laurel, head and arms piled on my knees, and admire Dolores Wilde in her green bikini across the street. She is a slim girl with gold hair and large, hazy green eyes. Dipping a sponge into a bucket, she slops on figure eights of suds, then rinses and rubs till her stepdaddy’s turquoise Buick gleams like the abdomen of a bluebottle fly.

By Poe Ballantine November 2010

Ramon Martinez Tells What Happened That Day

My name is Ramon. I am fifteen. One thing people don’t know about me is I saved one of the airplanes on September the eleven from hitting one of the towers. The south tower. No one knows this because I used my power to make everyone forget. There will be people who say I say it now to get credit for this paper due in school but that is not the reason, the reason is people should know what I can do so they don’t mess with me. People did mess with me before and that is how I develop my power. It is a strong power as you will hear now.

By Brian Doyle July 2010
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories


I met Laura for the first time at the Department of Human Services. The police picked me up from the domestic-violence-intervention agency where I was working and brought me to the squat cinder-block DHS building. Rain poured steadily from the gutters onto the cracked concrete sidewalk.

By Megan Kruse January 2010
Readers Write

Narrow Escapes

A noodle shop in central Burma, The Phil Donahue Show, the Tet Offensive

By Our Readers January 2010
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

My Father Tore Out Of The House

I could have forgiven him for that — I knew I had done a bad thing — but I couldn’t forgive him for what he did next, at least not until years later, when my own legacy as a flawed father helped me understand how love exists alongside anger.

By Alan Davis December 2009
Readers Write


Hypnotherapy, the safety-patrol boy, a bakery treat

By Our Readers December 2009
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Gar Killer

When I was six, my mother finally got tired of the beatings and left my father for good. I remember the final blow: I was standing outside, looking through the front-door window at my father mercilessly pounding my mother’s face into the checked tile floor of our run-down two-bedroom house on the outskirts of Slidell, Louisiana.

By Louis E. Bourgeois February 2009