Poetry
Poetry
Short Fiction

Full Bloom

Adithi Ramakrishnan

She can hear a lot in the silence.
The surprise, for one, from her teacher, as he looks at the jumble of letters on his roster.
The confusion, as he looks from her first name to her last, unsure ... [+]

Creative Nonfiction

My Stranger

Megan Doxey

I was sitting in a public square in Athens, when I saw something that Intrigued me. A young man, not five meters away from me, who also sat on a smooth bench of stone, was happily chewing on a gyro ... [+]

Short Fiction

Chartreuse

Katie Fastabend

This is a story of a girl named Chartreuse. She wore overalls with great big buttons on the front--bright, colorful plastic ones that matched her bright, colorful socks. Her socks were striped and ... [+]

Short Fiction

Accra-pocalypse

Alixa Brobbey

The first day of the apocalypse, life in Accra was business as usual. Somewhere, miles away, politicians’ scrambled voices were heard on rarely-used airwaves. The voices' owners sweated through ... [+]

Short Fiction

The Human

Sarah Bodnar

The books in the library are organized by color, not topic. It’s annoying for humans like Stef, who can’t see anything lower than red or higher than violet. She walks into the library already ... [+]

Poetry
Poetry
Short Fiction

Fleece

Karina Andrew

My roommate wanders into the kitchen just in time to see the pancake tower collapse.
Well, “collapse” might be a bit strong. I like the word “collapse” for its dramatic value, the ... [+]

Poetry

Sex Ed

Alixa Brobbey

Like erratic tennis balls,
giggles bounce around the classroom.
At my desk, slippery fingers ... [+]

Short Fiction

Reflection

Kelly Pratt

My reflection is staring at me again.
Now I know what you’re thinking: “Of course it is!” you say, chuckling to yourself and thinking I must be an ignorant child, or perhaps or an elder whose ... [+]

Poetry
Poetry
Short Fiction

Déjà vu

Lindabeth Doby

It was in late April when I first moved.
I’d toured the space before signing the new lease. It was a studio. Small, but comfortable, with a window looking out over a small street intersection ... [+]

Short Fiction

Impressions

Rebecca Cazanave

"Stop fidgeting. You look like a drug addict," Charles said, taking Elise by the hand.
She shook him off. "I can't help it. The band tickles my wrist."
"Then don't wear it." ... [+]

Poetry
Creative Nonfiction

Passage

Alixa Brobbey

Rites are supposed to be heavy, large things. Difficult to carry or pass through. Empty stomach and a bulging suitcase as you make your way out of your mother's arms in a way that feels final. Empty ... [+]