Category: Creative Writing
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Nothing that sings stays—but we sing it anyways
This poem was inspired by my experience of losing the vocal confidence that had long shaped my identity as a performer in theatre and choir, as well as social interactions. During 9th grade, I developed a vocal condition which made speaking and singing feel unstable and inauthentic, as I could only speak in a falsetto,…
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don’t try to find me
By: Anvika Bheemarasetty The smell of burnt toast and laundry detergent filled my nose. Standing in a corner of the room – a ghost in my own past – watching my younger self argue with Mom. I want to scream, tell her that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what we were arguing about. It…
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11:13 PM
There is a lonely firefly behind our house; my neighbor’s verbena must be blooming again. There is a waft of smoke through my window; my neighbor must be hosting a late-night barbecue again. There is a cigarette stub in our yard; my neighbor must have accidentally tossed it over the fence again. This is true…
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Yearning, Wandering—Prologue
When a leaf alights on the still water, Si Yinan imagines that the ripples split the very air around her, that she splinters around the disturbance. The moment passes as the leaf bobs away on its own invisible current. Her reflection solidifies; the world tends towards stability. Usually, it’s a comforting thought, but today it’s…
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Limits of a Rind
This short poetry set explores ideas of uncertainty and self acceptance through the lens of their perception.
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A Colloquy on Crochet and Camraderie
When it comes to crocheting, misguided confidence and the exaltant throes of friendship can take a small idea a long way. Just two weeks into my illustrious crocheting career, I began designing a custom pattern with my friend, pulling together inspiration from various pictures to create their dream leg warmers. Three inches of ribbing, a…
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Create Your Own Adventure! A Mystical Journey
And suddenly, you hear a rumble and with a swing, the entire shelf swings open and a deep spiral staircase lays before you. You ponder whether to head down the staircase.
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Early Snow
sometimes, you can taste the temperature on your tongue. winter feels like mint, even though mint is a late-spring mid-autumn sort of plant; its shoots are too delicate for the December cold. it leaves a chill behind once consumed, like an apology. a compromise. open your mouth and you can catch snowflakes against your teeth.…
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An Eternal Grief
A short story by Aneesha Needamangala They met on the side of the road, near a dusty parking lot surrounded by a faded gas station and a tilted, dark green sign with large white letters, yellowed with age. Boston. 50 miles. Esther fumbled with a large canvas tote bag, crammed full of old books and…
