A New Kind of Literary Pulse

Gemma’s Hair
In sixth-grade, Gemma’s assigned seat was next to mine. My only knowledge of Gemma was that:

1. she played the youngest von Trapp child in our school’s production of The Sound ...  [+]

Stretched out between the living room and the kitchen, straddling the fuzzy carpet and cold tile, lies the warm spot—a vent affectionately named for its delightful puff onto a child’s cold toes. I say ...  [+]

A dark grey weight pulled down on the city, washing out the color and light. The air was dry, and a suffocating heat wafted between the buildings and over the streets. A reminder that beyond the ashen ...  [+]

Memories are like puzzle pieces – tiny snippets of a bigger picture, meaningless in isolation. One piece might show half of a face; one memory might contain a happy moment. You can’t tell what a ...  [+]

“Why am I not a wizard?”
“Why would you want to be a wizard?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Wingardium Leviosa my problems away forever? That would be so much easier than facing them alone with my ...  [+]

I remember visiting Heidi in San Francisco, when I was younger. She was so charismatic in those days, her icy blue eyes glinting mischievously as she lay sprawled out beneath the window, looking like ...  [+]

I went to bed early last night, which is something I only do when I could really use some extra sleep. It was a good plan and an honest attempt to take better care of my body. But at 12:45 a.m., I ...  [+]

Dear —,
Here’s my two cents about thieving: if you’re going to steal someone’s heart, you should let them have yours; it’s hard to live without a heart, you know. If they can’t have yours, then ...  [+]

The radio blares on, playing the latest pop song, a radio game, or a discussion of the day’s traffic. You look over to the red analog letters: 4:30 AM. The sun has yet to wake up, it’s still sleeping ...  [+]

A frigid breeze whipped across my face. I, standing on the shore, stared out across a glacial lake of Homer, Alaska. As our tour guide informed us, that glacial lake sits in the mountains full of ...  [+]

Today I had orange eggs for breakfast.
I thought it was strange so I looked it up and found that an especially happy chicken lays eggs with orange yolks. It saddened me to think of the countless ...  [+]

How do you politely throw up in the back of a taxicab? I can feel my stomach tightening, the bitter, acidic taste rising in the back of my throat. I look down at the cardboard bowl provided by the ...  [+]

I’m going through my collection of CD’s—A Pentatonix Christmas, Mariachi Cobre, Tim McGraw—when a small paper book bound by two orange ribbons with a water-color picture of pink and coral flowers ...  [+]

My nana’s house feels like fine china and lace.
The walls are white, the furniture floral, every decoration a refined antique. The house is delicate and apart from everything I know—like I’ve ...  [+]

You’d think a woman with many names would have trouble defining herself.

Her high school friends call her Lexi. They know her as outgoing and hilarious. Really, she is the “glue” of the ...  [+]

When I was a little girl, I would often be alone at home and no one took care of me. The domestic helper, a young Philippine woman, Arnida seems to be very busy all the time. She is often late to pick ...  [+]

Authors Notes

Thank you for reading one of the stories I wanted to tell. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

I have been thinking about this story for a while now, and I would ...  [+]

It’s fate that I grow up with a lovebird, or perhaps God’s idea to teach me a lesson. I remember watching national geography introducing parrots when I was a kid. Not only do they have an adorable ...  [+]