Beauty and Power, Jini Park       If I had known it was Julie calling my name across the fluorescence of the supermarket, I wouldn’t have turned around. “Maurine,” the voice called, again. I turned and saw her waddling towards me from the other end of the aisle. “God, it’s been ages!” she panted,…

Dripping, Eric Fram         I used to cry over pizza because it smelled too strong. The air would rise from the plate until it pressed against my face like a wet towel. The smells of tomato and oregano would merge, blending into a hot cloud that hovered around my head and seeped…

Still Air, Shareefah Pereira     After Vladimir Nabokov and his second greatest love affair | For Ms. K   You’re forty-two years old and you don’t know how you got here. It’s 1:16 the morning of your own execution, you had beans on toast for dinner last night, you can still taste the soggy…

Sweet Dreams, Hannah Elizabeth High       Sit on the floor in the middle of the basement. It’s your very own play area, which makes it the greatest place. Spending enough hours down there makes you unaware of the rest of the world. It’s where no one focuses on what you’re doing. It’s just…

Geodess, Eric Fram     The Subaru Tetris–puzzle of suitcases and boxes was unyielding to the hat box that wasn’t shaped like a box. Shotgun was reserved for the fichus. Packed in on the sides were table cloths—lace for special occasions, gingham, laminated ones for crafts—no one had the heart to say were no longer needed…

Untitled, Elise Ketch   Some would say you’d get lonely out in the big darkness with not a soul on board except for the empty husks of the dead. Marty Corpus would say that they’d be wrong. Of course, though, it must be noted that Captain Corpus was a different sort of man. The hold…

Beauty After the Storm, Rae Clickenbeard     The clock on the stove blinks 12:00a.m., but I know that it’s actually 4:52p.m. I’ve been meaning to reset the clock since the electricity was shut off temporarily a month ago.  “Put your tights on, girls.” I don’t have to yell, they are only a thin wall…

Envy, Yulia Kenley               I. We go to the “Picasso house” today. That’s what Aeden calls it anyway. It’s his family’s art museum, or what’s left of it. The main atrium, with the arched glass ceilings and the Roman pillars lining the matte white walls, is the only part that…

Tomato Menace and Floral Rabbit,  Jury St. Judge     Oranges           My father sits cross-legged on the edge of the couch, a plastic bowl in his lap and a knife in his hand. He peels and wedges two or three, portioning the pieces. Butter stands at his feet, eyes bright, trying…