Poetry
Short Fiction

A Lovely Afternoon

Jacob Rutzick

Rick hadn’t figured out what he was going to do on this date. He had been building up the courage to ask her out for weeks and weeks, and he had always thought that the details of the night would ... [+]

Poetry
Creative Nonfiction

The Laundromat on Colley Avenue

Rachel Smith

A man wearing a short, black hat sits on the same bench as me. I sit on one end, and he sits on the other. The bench lines the long, tall widows that face the small parking lot attached to the ... [+]

Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
Short Fiction

Stevik's Ark

McKinley Sprinkle

The giant machine was almost empty, and had been that way for the last three centuries. When the man had found it, slowly sinking into the lazy sand of the trackless wastes of the Gobi, it had already ... [+]

Poetry
Short Fiction

The Thorns on a Black Rose

Zanthia Berube

It all started on the first day of school, Gunther was a new student at Windcastle High. He wasn’t your typical teenage boy; he perceived the world “differently.” He first saw her when he ... [+]

Poetry
Poetry

Redeem

Jacob Tammara

The journey to the sacred realm,
That years ago I had explored,
Was something that I could not ... [+]

Short Fiction

Roger and Sue

Samantha Lofgran

Roger was very good at planning and very bad at being alone, which is why he’d always selfishly hoped to marry someone at least five years younger than him.
He knew he’d have to wait a few ... [+]

Creative Nonfiction

One Close Call

Sophia Hua

It was after 10:30 at night. I was surrounded by towers of nondescript apartment complexes over 20 stories high, though the middle courtyard was graced with beautiful trees hiding maze-like ... [+]

Short Fiction

Riffles

Piper Kufeldt

His fingers tapped against the flat black keyboard, the clank of each key drilling in his ears chiming the same monotonous tone they had for the past 5 years. He faltered for a moment, not even a ... [+]

Creative Nonfiction

At The Age of Five

Alexandra Westcott

At the age of five I was fearless. As a child, identity seemed fluid, and it felt limitless. We could be bold, or we could be random. The ways of expressing ourselves felt boundless. And while there ... [+]

Short Fiction

Retrograde

Wade Lundgren

“Private Calcelmo.” Commander Martins bellows, his voice ringing sharply in my ears, cigar wobbling up and down like a fishing bobber.
I sigh tentatively in relief as Calsy moves to stand ... [+]