By: Yevgeniya Przhebelskaya In death’s chokehold of despair and ranging fire of desire, in smashing murmur of the world, “Look for the Savior” I’m told. Who heard Nathaniel’s secret prayer, And called him out of despair? Who saw Zacchaeus on a…
By: Neyda Sandoval “Babe, please calm down. Don’t worry you will be fine,” Nathaniel reaffirmed Cindy as he increased his speed to merge onto the freeway. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with diabetes, blood transfusions…
By: Neyda Sandoval Sweat dripped down his face, frantically trying to button his shirt and zip up his pants, after Elijah realized it was Sunday. Elijah Jones, was late for mass and did not want to be scolded by his girlfriend…
By: Chloe Spencer Concentrate. Breathe. Focus. Jacqueline stared at the whiteboard. Her eyes flickered as she watched the lecturer’s hands, moving from left to right, top to bottom. It was as if her professor’s hands were dancing around the equation she…
By: Anupama Kadwad Odor is such a strong sense many beautiful memories linked with it. Exhilarating smell of mud after the first rains. Invigorating smell of incense sticks linked with prayers. Exuberant smell of new books associated with first day of…
By: Anupama Kadwad Rocking back and forth with a creaking sound can still envision him sitting on the chair At the strike of seven rushed to catch our place by his feet tiny eager faces waited in anticipation huddled close by…
By: Samuel E. Cole The window shades are closed. Bobby, my husband, prefers darkness, believing transparency echoes nebulousness. He’s shady, too, speaking neither of a value system nor of its usefulness. He does, however, understand neglect, which makes it easy for…
By: Victor Azubike General Steel the Head of State and Commander in Chief of the Armed forces sat on an armchair, luxuriating close to the Olympic size swimming pool of the State house on a languorous evening in June. With him…
By: Frankie Lyon PART ONE (Paris) My tongue is the beginning of trouble, My body the end. Some days I am an outlaw. I see things Others don’t: grime At the bottom of the canal. Organ-grinders Moving fast behind every…
By: Constance Woodring Every day we hear your name, you always sound the same. You got war in your nose. It doesn’t matter where you buy your clothes. You’re a shot in the dark, waiting to make your mark. We can…