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…

Kanya

Andhora had only worn white her whole life.  Pure and colorless, without any trace of suffering— completely white.  Her skin was like a thin cloth stretched over her bones, and her complexion was chalky and pale. Her nails grew till they curled and her hair reached until just above her…

Ghosts

There’s no such thing as ghosts. The shadows I saw in the windows were just that, shadows – or so everyone promised. Figments of my imagination that jumped from the pages of a picture book I read before bedtime. But the shadows didn’t know that, so they followed me. They…


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.…