prose
Contemplating the Unidentifiable
Weather is nonexistent, and the sagging arms of a question that is more like a plea to another nonexistent entity distances me from my abyss. Can I? Do what? The weather is nonexistent, and, foolishly, I think the same of gravity. Gravity is nothing more than a construct of the…
Becoming
The high school disco hall falls dim again. Throngs of dancing teenagers—clad in leather, denim, sequins—groan. Some switch on their phones while the rest lean toward their friends, cursing the school management. The scent of excess deodorant clogs the air, concealing an undertone of adolescent sweat and insecurity. Nobody’s gaze…
poetry
Cottagecore
By a crystal creek in the grassy wood, A sun-warmed cabin nestles among lilac and daisy. Gingham flutters under sighing wisteria And wicker cradles forget-me-not Beside sun-sparkling chamomile tea. a fly thrashes desperately, then falls still in the cup. By a half-raised window veiled in gently swaying lace, I work…
The God of Loss
Lachlan Chu is a junior from California, USA. He is a graduate from the Iowa Young Writers Studio, and his work has been recognized by Scholastic Art & Writing. He enjoys poetry and novel writing.
Notes from Monday’s Appointment
Are you listening?I know it’s easy to forget,but what I’m trying to tell youis your whole life could bea trauma symptom. Are you listening?The memories leftbecause it was kinderthat way. The non-rememberingis a side effectof you. Are you listening?Your mind is not an evil; you have only been made from…
Apparition
They approached in hordes and masses,screaming in throaty, strangled jubilation.A cloud of dust in the outer rimof our vision, the edgeof our flat, bare world. Meanwhile, we pattered through the halls,looked with moonlike faces up at the drafty rafters of the roof,the airy rooms, the gray light, the seagrass aroma.…