A New Kind of Literary Pulse

NO SLEEP TILL

BROOKLYN!

Count of 15 on the beat keeping time, head nodding and finger tapping—

Your cup holders carry expired coupons, the dented tiara from when you were crowned ...  [+]

You and (I suppose) I are waiting at a cold bus stop. We witness the moment, full morning, when the streetlights turn off.
Your eyes don't register a difference; the sun functions, so the ...  [+]

A young boy no older than twelve sits on a bus at a station. Sitting behind him is a foreigner. Outside the widow are presumably the boy's parents and younger sister. The boy's backpack and durable ...  [+]

We pulled up to the vegan ice cream truck. It was closed.
"What? I swear it said open 'til nine." Ryan checked his phone. "Yeah, see?"
He handed me the phone. It did.
"What do you want to do?" ...  [+]

"No!" was the cry of my heart as he left me. Despair added, whispered in my heart. It was so genuine; thanks for the gut-wrenching terror that jolted me awake, pulling me out of this nightmare. The ...  [+]

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," said Joseph, looking outside from the apartment balcony on the 9th floor.
"I cannot believe we arrived just in time for the sunrise!" ...  [+]

I have a quiet father. Not quiet like a rock, but quiet like a book. He is particular with his words, as if they were stepping stones. He is collected, not scattered. Firm, not flaky. Resolute, not ...  [+]

Nature is calling. As a new intern in the medical intensive care unit (MICU) my bladder is not yet trained to resist this instinctual human need. The team has been rounding for six hours, discussing ...  [+]

As a young freshman, I dreamed of how BYU would change me. Would I become a more devout Christian or a scholarly expert? As I near graduation, I fear losing the metaphorical "scaffolding" of religious ...  [+]

They were best friends. One died during the summer, the other eight months later, to the day. The Wall Street Journal article said that his parents had long since torn the blood-stained carpet out of ...  [+]

A blood-curdling scream of fear silently echoed through my veins as I woke up from a nightmare that left me paralyzed. Sweat started dripping from my head as the uncertainty of life shook my whole ...  [+]

"Can I have a fry? They look good today."
She leans forward, hand perched over the spuds like a vulture.
"No," he chuckles, swatting her hand away. "I asked and you said you didn't want any." ...  [+]

I put on my mink jacket and sunglasses and began to drive to a local parking lot. The air, despite it being April, felt brisk that day, almost like the weather understood what I was about to do. As I ...  [+]

Imagine standing backstage and hearing, moments before the curtains open, that the crowd of freshly trained marines had booed the last performers off stage. My knees would buckle. Janie Thompson ...  [+]

Writing is like unraveling a knot. It always seems to turn out that the twistiest jumbles are easiest to pick apart, while the simplest snarls morph into a recursion of stuck-fast loops in loops. To ...  [+]

I remember being a little girl going to the department store with my mom; all the girls' clothing was as expected: frilly and pink, embroidered with butterflies, usually itchy and always sparkly ...  [+]

I was sixteen years old the first time a man told me that I was pretty enough to be a server.
I was just a host, but a good one. One of the best, which isn't even bragging, because being a host ...  [+]

My hair started falling out about three weeks into treatment. I expected clumps (for the doctors, websites, and survivors said, "expect clumps"), and I imagined my hair falling out in neatly packaged ...  [+]