Recognition

BY MORGAN DOCURRAL

I roll over to my side. My blankets are intertwined with my legs. As I struggle for them to release me, I remember my best friend, Trevor, is asleep on the floor. I stop and call a truce. My phone buzzes. I reach over to grab it when my fingers miss. It falls onto the floor, landing on top of Trevor’s chest. 

“Shit!” I utter, “I’m sorry.” 

Grandmother's House

BY ZARIYAH GREENE

Every summer since I was ten, my family goes on a road trip from Massachusetts to Alabamato visit my Grandmother. 

I remember feeling a rush of excitement as we started packing up the car early in the morning so that we could end up in Alabama the next day by noontime.

A Brief Encounter

BY TENZIN DHAKPA

Running a Yemeni restaurant on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn is one of the many splashes of diversity that trickle into the melting pot that is New York City. 

It’s been 35 years since the restaurant opened, originally managed and owned by my father and his brother.

Finding Justice: Life in America for the Wrongfully Convicted

BY SUZANNE KARIOKI

It was a dreary, overcast day in Memphis. A woman awoke that morning in her apartment, to find that two men had broken in. One of them was holding a knife. Later, she would give the police a description, a name and an address. But that night, before the men left her home, the men assaulted her and took her television set. 

The End

BY STEVE NGUYEN

So dark, so cold, and oh so silent. Damn that witch. If only I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted the gift of immortality. I wish I was lucky enough to just go to hell. It would be a whole lot more exciting than this. How long have I been drifting here aimlessly in space anyway, with only my own inner thoughts to keep me company.

She Is Alone in the House

BY STEFANI MUÑOZ

She is alone in the house.

In the kitchen the lights create a soft cocoon of light and she settles there, elbows caked in crumbs as they lean against the kitchen counter. To her left sits the door, the shades drawn over the tiny window above the lock and knob.

Coming Harvest

BY SOPHIA CIAMPAGLIA

Over the rolling grasslands and the black chestnut forests, the husky frog ponds with clusters of cattails and the vast gourd and squash farms lining the dirt pathway, laid a small town tucked away in a serene nook. Each little home was built at a distance from one another, yet were never too far apart to carry the sense of community.