BOS to LAX

BY ALICIA GALLAGHER

The interview is over, successful and hard won. The plane tickets are booked. The plan is set. The date approaches. Soon you will be 3,000 miles away. Almost a 48-hour drive across the country. We will Skype, we will FaceTime, we will iMessage.

Street Lights

BY ALICIA GALLAGHER

I wonder if the street lights turn off for anyone else, you know just as they walk underneath it, or is it just me? I’ll be making my way on the pseudo faded brick, crossing the most treacherous of crosswalks, in the dark abyss I call a busy road.

Monster

BY ALICIA GALLAGHER

My blankets form an unbreakable shield. I use them as protection against the monsters. The guilt-ridden and ugly green creatures that I see over the top of my covers fill me with a knot so deep in the pit of my stomach that I cringe and curl. They dance and mock me as I lie there waiting for sleep to take hold.

Parched

BY LIBBY TAYLOR

It was the first truly rainy morning in months. The drought had shown us very little mercy and the heat had been unbearable. Our air conditioner’s avalanche-like rumble had changed from a reminder of our ever-climbing bill to a constant companion and acceptance of extra shifts.

Centralia

BY ALEX GILLIS

Centralia, PA

A forest with smoke rising from the ground below,

Yet there is no visible fire.

Patches of grass are visible here and there,

Dried wood litters the ground.

Defenses

BY HOLLY CORMIER

I’m gonna leave but I’ll never forget
The lessons you taught me, the words that you said; All the times that we spent all alone in your bed,
I was crying for him and you took me instead.

Catchin' Up

BY HOLLY CORMIER

Let me take a second to say
My lungs, I was told, would fail me each day.
Take your meds, you’ll be okay-
Well my mind ain’t okay but for that you just lay Your hands on my back, “Breathe, it’s easy.”

Keynopsia

BY HOLLY CORMIER

Drizzling rain coated the sidewalk. Her hair was damp with sweat and clung to her forehead, a jacket and shirt clumsily thrown over her shoulders to cover her bra-less chest. The weighty messenger bag tried pulling her into the earth as she stepped outside the building, lights casting an eerie greenish glow on the back of her head.

Vibration

BY EMMANUELLA DEMOSTHENES

No vibration strikes no chords
Stir no hearts to no longing
No minds to no answers
Deaf notes play the melody to which we dance.

On Subtlety

BY PAUL REDDINGTON

In a classroom during an exam
A teacher pretends not to notice a note being passed.

And somewhere on a lake in a wooden boat
A fisherman curses as he reels in a boot.

The Moments

BY APRIL GOODWIN

My heart shattered with a single ambiguous text message.

I walked to my last class of the day on a crisp afternoon, the sun playing games with the clouds and the breeze teasing my hair. I went into the building and approached the staircase as my phone vibrated in my back pocket.

Immortality

BY PETER A. GRAMAZIO

“Immortality!”  The words dripped from Cassandra’s lips as she explained her cause to Hugo.  This was the passion, the desire, Cassandra had been known for all of her life; it would drive her, consume her, and- if the tone in her voice was any indication -she would not stop until the subject of it was hers. 

A Pile

BY BRIAN LOMBARDI

I try to fit my writing in between laundry cycles, but literature

great and terrible, gets in the way.

There are words for the sweat under my shirt

by the wall of vehement dryers,