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Articles by Allison Maschhoff
New life for a classic coming-of-age novel
A voicey account of a Black teenager growing up in the 1980s in St. Louis County, Missouri, “Right by My Side” by David Haynes is a coming-of-age story about a boy who learns his coming-of-age might take longer than he’d like. While the back of the book calls this the story of a boy who “discovers storytelling as a way to ease his adolescent anger and family tensions,” this is more the story of how he becomes the type of person able to make that discovery.
community - Truman Media Network
Homecommunity Community We’re almost done with the semester, Bulldogs! It’s crazy how fast time flew by this year, and just like last semester, finals are quickly approaching. Surviving finals week is much easier said than done, but […] Community When Truman State University closed its campus last Spring, students were sent home and one of the only remaining ways students could communicate with their friends was on Facebook.
Fiction Story - Truman Media Network
HomeFiction Story Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. I woke up on the plains, the grass up to my hips, wearing a dress I had never seen. It […] Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her.
Storytime with Allison – Truman Media Network
HomeStorytime with Allison Columns What is this? This is the beginning of a story. A story about Truman State University, a story of real people, a work of fiction. A short story from the brain of a person with […] Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. I woke up on the plains, the grass up to my hips, wearing a dress I had never seen.
fiction - Truman Media Network
Homefiction Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. I woke up on the plains, the grass up to my hips, wearing a dress I had never seen. It […] Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her.
Fiction writer shares one last story
What is this? This is the beginning of a story. A story about Truman State University, a story of real people, a work of fiction. A short story from the brain of a person with too much going on inside her head. And this is only the beginning of it. As the girl sits in front of the blank Google Doc, she wonders if it’s still correct to call herself a girl. She’ll have a college degree soon. She’s looking for apartments and finding a Real Job®️ like a woman.
End of Semester Hallucinations
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. I woke up on the plains, the grass up to my hips, wearing a dress I had never seen. It was white and strapless, with ruffles that wrapped around my shoulders and a loose bodice, the skirt cut just below the knee. Of course, with the warm blades of grass pushing against me, I felt the cut of the dress more than I saw it.
Local press publishes works of Truman professors, young writers
Neal and Betsy Delmonico pose with some published works. The retired couple began publishing in 2004. Submitted photo It all began with Neal’s mother, Vivian, who had always enjoyed writing. In 2004, Neal and his brothers decided to self-publish one of Vivian’s stories and give it to her as a gift. Little did they know they were sending Neal and Betsy Delmonico on a journey that would last over a decade.
“The Belinda Chronicles:” a coming of age journey for every stage of life
An enjoyable read that finds its strength in its honesty, ingenuity and familiarity, “The Belinda Chronicles” by Linda Seidel, a retired Truman State University English professor, is work that manages to turn tough topics into a light read without losing depth. This “lightly fictionalized memoir” takes an unflinching look at the later stages of life, including losing one’s parents and confronting one’s own mortality.
Breaking Up with a Demon
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her. She still hadn’t let him into the house, and he was starting to get rather annoyed. It was cold and dark and it smelled like a storm was coming, and he was not about to do the whole standing-outside-a-girl’s-house-in-the-rain thing. He supposed he just wasn’t the romantic type when it came to things like that. Her glare only intensified.
“Anger? ‘Tis safe never. Bar it! Use love.”
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. You know how some people have things they just really love? Like the guy from “Looking For Alaska” who loves last words or your weird uncle who collects guitars he can’t play? The people who never threw away their baseball card collections and never returned all the rocks they collected from their mom’s front yard? I’m one of those people — but not about last words or guitars or baseball cards or rocks.
A Modern Mesozoic
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. When I first saw her, she was standing outside in the middle of a snowstorm — arms out, head thrown back, coat unzipped. The occasional car would pass by, and she would just keep standing there, perfectly still. I wasn’t sure at that moment whether the moment was beautiful. It was the kind of moment where you don’t know if someone is soaking in the world’s beauty or wallowing in its everlasting pain.
Diary of a Girl
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. Nov. 2 “Okay, so based on the way these sticks here are broken next to this pattern in the dirt and the direction of the wind, I’d say they went left.” My eyebrow quirked in amazement. “You can really tell all that from this?” I gesture to the forest surrounding us. Kenny smirked. “Of course not, you idiot! Myra sent me a text.
Compassion, Beauty & Honesty
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. When she finished telling him the tragic story of her life— with the names of every person changed, even her own, as if it was nothing more than a recitation of a novel she’d once read— she sat back in her high back chair and watched him. He was young and lithe, a boy growing into a man, with kind chocolate eyes.
Move-in Day
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. When Asher and Noah Brown decided to move out of their parents’ house and get one of their own, the reactions were mixed. Their friends said brothers don’t buy houses together. Their father practically leaped for joy. Their mother did little to hide her tears and hugged her sons tight. The brothers assured her that they were only moving ten minutes away to a nearby neighborhood.
Chaos and Calm
Two sisters stood on the doorstep of their childhood home, fully grown and only partially ready to depart. They had always been together, two sides of the same coin, but now they were heading in opposite directions. The outcomes of their journeys had long been prophesied: one headed toward chaos and the other toward calm. Neither truly knew which was which, but each had hope of a certain outcome. The first sister, the elder and quieter of the two, was heading south.
The Myth of the Flowers
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. Once upon a time, Demeter saw her first rainbow. The colors burst across the sky, blending and dancing above her. As she laid in the plain green grass, a strange sadness grabbed hold of her. Demeter wished for such beauty to come down from the sky and into her own realm. Gaia heard her wish and whispered an offer into Demeter’s mind. Smiling, Demeter nodded her head, and the matter was settled.
Features - Truman Media Network
HomeFeatures Features This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. The man walked onto the stage with a stiff sort of respectability. He was old, at least 80, and his […] Community Fill in the blank: “If I had ___, then I’d be happy.” What was the answer? Money? Love? A career?
Don’t Do Drugs
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. The man walked onto the stage with a stiff sort of respectability. He was old, at least 80, and his black suit was at this point more of a charcoal. Just like him, it had seen better days. There was a slight limp to his step and hardly any hair on his head. Wireframe glasses sat perched on his nose and I imagined the lenses being half an inch thick. When he reached the microphone, he cleared his throat.
The final installment of Inktober
The Inktober prompts that inspired this piece were buddy, hide, music, float, shoes, ominous and crawl. Tasha slinked along the side of the space station’s central corridor. Her black t-shirt and leggings stood out sharply against the white and silver features of the space around her. Mentally cursing her forgetfulness, she reminded herself that camouflage worked a little differently here than back home on the city streets. It would be impossible to miss her dark form if someone walked by.
The fourth installment of Inktober
The Inktober prompts that inspired this piece were trap, dizzy, coral, sleep, chef, rip and dig. Frustrated with incompetent workers and suffocating in the heat of the kitchen, the chef stormed out of the restaurant’s backdoor and marched down to the beach. The stretch of sand was largely vacant on that chilly October afternoon. The water lapped lazily at the shore under the chef’s watchful, judgmental gaze. Slowly, his raging heartbeat began to slow toward contentment.
The third installment of Inktober
The Inktober prompts that inspired this piece were disgusting, slippery, dune, armor, outpost, rocket and storm. You would think getting caught in a sandstorm on a date would make it the worst date I’ve ever been on. But I’ve been on some pretty bad dates. This particular date didn’t start out that bad. He was boring but in an endearing sort of way that made me willing to listen to him blabber on. I was doing an internship in Kuwait that semester and we had met at work. His work seemed to be his life.
The second installment of Inktober
The Inktober prompts that inspired this piece were radio, blade, rodent, fancy, teeth, throw and hope (Oct. 4-10). Lisa had been drawn to the record shop’s front door by the sound of music flowing out of it, but upon seeing it, she had second thoughts. Following the sound of the music had taken her down a street she was not familiar with, and she saw a rodent scurry past her and around the corner of the shop. The worrisome possibility that it was headed inside poked at her mind.
The first installment of Inktober
The wind wisped along the shoreline, snaking its long fingers into the crevices of the cliffs and ruffling the women’s carefully styled hair. On most days, the only creatures that accessed this small strip of beach were the wind and fish, but on this day, the Culpepper sisters made an appearance. It had been a lifetime since they were last here; they could feel the echoes of their childish squeals and broken dreams in the sand as it crunched beneath their bare feet.
Flower Bugs
So I’ve got to tell you about these two sisters that live in my hometown. Mom says they’re two flower-children who didn’t know how to get on with their lives once the sixties ended. She thinks they’re stuck in time, but I’m not so sure. Surely they were once younger than they are now and at the very least their cars are definitely not from the sixties. That’s the first thing most people notice about them, their cars. But let me back up.
Raising Daughters
“give your daughters difficult names. give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. my name makes you want to tell me the truth. my name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right.” —Warsan Shire It was with shaky fingers that William dialed his mother’s phone number. His wife, Cassie, was already on the phone with her own mother in the room next door.
Focusing on Someday
“Today I am so sad that I feel like I will never be happy again,” read the cautious cursive letters in my old diary. The date was exactly five years ago. I remember that day. I remember crying in my college dorm room, clutching my pillow, wishing I could just go back to sleep and not wake up again until the pain was gone. Wondering how my heart would ever feel whole again. College can seem like the most inconvenient time to be depressed. There’s always something you need to be doing.
Exposé: Squirrel Spies
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. After months of intense investigation coupled with immersive study in Squeakonese, I finally have conclusive information to report to you. Some will skip over this exposé in favor of the latest serial killer or celebrity scandal, but believe you me, this is the real breaking news. What I have found will change everything.
Phone Home
This is the latest in TMN staff writer Allison Maschoff’s collection of short fiction stories. “Taylor, will you please turn off your alarm?” It’s more of a groan than a question, with fair reason. Taylor’s response is, in fact, also a groan. Because she didn’t set an alarm. Plus, this doesn’t even sound like her alarm. And she was still sleeping.
Peopleflowers
Dear Marcie, Getting mail is especially exciting now that we’re quarantined. Even if it’s just junk mail. It’s something. It’s communication. I read every word. Anyway, I thought I’d write you a letter. The typical question of “What’s new?” really doesn’t seem to apply anymore. What’s new? Well, I bought some clothes. Not that I can wear them anywhere. Just something to get a package. Because packages are even more exciting than letters.
Elizabeth’s Garden
I was standing in my new living room with my hair pulled up in a headscarf and strokes of paint marking my arms looking at blobs of paint options on the wall. Somehow I managed to miss my tank top and jeans.
Handsome, Charming and Six Feet Away
The most amazing thing happened to me the other day at the grocery store. It started out like any other day in March 2020. I got up, put on my long-sleeved shirt, jeans and gloves. The mission that day was focused and meant to be fast, an in-and-out grocery run for the essentials, so I opted for tennis shoes and a sleek high ponytail. Once I was dressed, I grabbed my purse, doubling-checking that my hand sanitizer hadn’t somehow fallen out, and then stopped by the door to select a face mask.
If the Coronavirus Struck in 2075 . . .
DAY 7 OF SOCIAL DISTANCING: I still haven’t gotten used to this GPS anklet they’re making all of us wear. I went over to give my mom a hug this morning and it screeched at me as if I was shoplifting from Tiffany’s. 10 feet apart at all times. That’s hard to remember. I feel like I need to carry around a yardstick just to be safe. I don’t want to hear that noise again. If they could, I bet our neighbors would have come over to complain. DAY 13 OF SOCIAL DISTANCING: I chanced going outside today.
Felix and Hazel
When Felix and Hazel were teenagers, they lived in a town that was big enough for Felix but too small for Hazel. When Hazel was a teenager, her favorite thing to do was take walks around the town and its outskirts, and daydream about the place she’d live when she grew up. When Felix was a teenager, his favorite thing to do was be around Hazel. Ergo, he went on a lot of these walks. Every day it was something different.
Phillipa’s tattoo epiphany
My mother was anything but materialistic. Her closet held nothing but the essentials. The only jewelry she owned was her wedding band and a pair of gold stud earrings shaped like butterflies. No knick-knacks, not even picture frames. Our house was the epitome of minimalistic design. Almost everything in our house was black or white. I sigh, looking around the house as I put on my black Panama hat. My eyes stop on my reflection in the gold rimmed, full length mirror on the wall across from me.
Clara’s chick flick
She rolled her eyes and turned to go, to leave him there standing alone in the woods like the brooding bad boy character from a chick flick. Except he wasn’t misunderstood and she wasn’t going to fall in love with him. As they say, been there, done that. It wasn’t gonna happen again. Her heart had put on its armor. “Clara, stop,” he said. He reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulled her back toward him, made her face him. But she wouldn’t look at him. She stared at the ground. “Clara, please.
Mr. Thompson’s Smile
When I was six, my great grandma lived in an assisted living home called Oasis Retirement. She had a room on the second floor. It was just big enough for a queen-size bed, a dresser and a chair for guests with an attached bathroom. Great Grandma was always saying she felt claustrophobic in that room. (I asked my mom what it meant. She told me it’s the feeling that a place is too small.) I wasn’t sure how anyone could think a bedroom with a bathroom attached was too small.
Marla’s Martian Fashion
“Where do you think you are? The fashion capital of Mars?” I identified the voice through the buzz of the school cafeteria before I had even turned around. Once I was looking him in the eyes, I smirked. “Don’t you have better things to do than theorize about Martian fashion, Brad?” “Clearly you don’t,” he replied. I batted my eyelashes. “Well, I’m just not as important as you.” Brad rolled his eyes and maybe he would have left me alone, but then he saw Kevin.
The SS Warrimoo Wedding
Disclaimer: The SS Warrimoo was a real Australian/New Zealand passenger ship that sailed from 1892–1918. In the 1940s-50s, a story began circulating that the SS Warrimoo had managed to cross the intersection of the International Date Line and the equator right at the turn of the century. This story is based on the unlikely event that the story from the 1940s-50s is true.
Franny Jellyton’s Engagement Ring
“I’m fine,” Rachel said, hugging her arms across her chest. The porch bench rocked gently back and forth as she swung her feet. “Why are you lying to me?” Danny sat on the other end of the bench, twisted toward her. “You look like you’re about to cry.” “I’m not going to cry over you getting engaged again, Danny. I shed all the tears I had for you a long time ago.” She thought back four years to the way she had curled under a pile of blankets and refused to move for hours.
The Witch of East Valley High School
October Jones was a force to be reckoned with. She walked the halls of East Valley High School with her head high, her armful of books organized and well-contained, her eyes somehow staring both straight ahead and above the buzzing crowd of students. She walked with a purpose, every step determined and forceful. The slight bounce of her body as she walked was not one of peppiness, but the reactionary force brought about by the smacking of her soles against the linoleum.
Becoming Aunt Lydia
It was dark and raining and my mind was going one thousand times faster than the car I was driving. I wasn’t in the mood to be in this kind of traffic, caused by late-night rain when it’s that mid-December kind of dark that makes you wonder if the stars still exist. Everyone was slowing down and the world was being inundated with blurry red lights and no one seemed to notice that I needed to get somewhere. Seriously, could Abigail have picked a worse time to have a baby?
George and Martha’s Knickknacks
“What are you doing?” George flinched a little as he heard the way his voice tilted upward at the end of his question. Upon entering their kitchen, he had found his wife sitting on the floor, haphazardly moving various items from one container to another. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Martha responded.
Betty Twillman’s Plot Twist
When I was young, at least one out of every three visits to my grandparents’ house involved me asking to hear their love story. My grandpa would smile softly and lean back in his chair. He enjoyed hearing Grandma tell the story as much as I did. As she got older, some of the details got fuzzy.
Dress Shopping with Melissa
My feet hurt. Words like blush and violet and chartreuse and sapphire were swirling around in my brain. We had been shopping for three hours. Melissa and I had been best friends since the 10th grade. We met in biology. She helped me pass the class and I told her bad science puns. It took me two months to realize I was in love with her. Now we were 23 and it was wedding season. Her old teammate was getting married the next day and she didn’t know what she was going to wear.
The Curse of Briar Michaels: Part VIII
This is the eighth and final installment in TMN staff writer Allison Maschhoff’s serialized fiction series, The Curse of Briar Michaels. You can read part seven here. Briar was surprised when Aislinn returned to the hospital the next day. In all honesty, Aislinn was surprised by her own actions, but as Dushan and Asuka trailed into Mallory’s room behind her, they were not surprised. They had known Aislinn long enough to know that she was invested at this point.
The Curse of Briar Michaels: Part VII
This is the sixth installment in TMN staff writer Allison Maschhoff’s serialized fiction series, The Curse of Briar Michaels. You can read part six here. Death did not show its face that first day. Well, correction. It did not come for Mallory that first day. Death passed plenty of time inside the hospital’s walls. Those first six days, Aislinn, Dushan, and Asuka suffered the effects of fourteen deaths. Briar sat quietly next to Mallory and watched their pain. Mallory did not understand what was wrong.
The Curse of Briar Michaels: Part VI
This is the sixth installment in TMN staff writer Allison Maschhoff’s serialized fiction series, The Curse of Briar Michaels. You can read part five here. After exactly one minute of silence (Aislinn was counting the seconds to distract herself) Briar began to speak. His voice started out loud, louder than necessary in the quiet room. It gradually quieted as he shared the story. Aislinn kept her face blank as he explained that about a year and a half prior, he had met a woman named Mallory.
The Curse of Briar Michaels: Part V
This is the fifth installment in TMN staff writer Allison Maschhoff’s serialized fiction series, The Curse of Briar Michaels. You can read part four here. When Aislinn left Chicago, she expected Briar to try to follow her. When he didn’t, she reminded herself that this is what she wanted. That she should be thankful he was making it easy for her. But in the depths of her heart the truth shouted: a person in love wasn’t supposed to just give up. They were supposed to fight to the end, tooth and nail.
The Curse of Briar Michaels: Part IV
This is the fourth installment in TMN staff writer Allison Maschhoff’s serialized fiction series, The Curse of Briar Michaels. You can read part three here. When Dushan opened the front door of his apartment to find Briar Michaels standing outside it for the first time in three years, he wasn’t sure what to do. He could have slammed the door in his face. He could have invited him in for coffee like an old friend. But all he could think to say was, “She isn’t here.” Outwardly, Briar appeared unfazed.
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