Fiction
By: Macy de Champlain We aren’t supposed to be here. We walk into the darkness, leaving the last remnants of light behind us. My Michael strips down, everything but the socks and shoes. I do too, because I do whatever my Michael…
Poetry
By: Jordan Zuniga The mustering of the forces, the gathering of strength,The call to arms upon the realm of France, increase the territories length!The kneeling for the honor, the placing of the crown,The swiping of the treasure and the mocking…
Fiction
By: John F Zurn After years of traveling throughout his world, Uriel felt weary and disappointed. Despite all his remarkable adventures, he still remained alone and lacked satisfactory answers for his life and for his dilemma with relationships. Uriel eventually…
Fiction
By: Clay Hunt Maxine slammed her black backpack on my desk. She was a fan of horror and spooky movies. Her long black hair was glued to her puffier-than-normal cheeks. I never cried during these times. I felt like there…
Poetry
By: Emily Pain PainBurningAll overI am ironBeing smeltedBecoming strong and beautifulUnlike the rock I came fromAll because of the pain ### Lifeless Dead rosesWilted violetsDeceased daisiesLifeless flowersIs what makes up my gardenRotting nowMaggot foodGiving birth to new lifeThis is my…
Poetry
By: Alex Andy Phuong Inspect introspectionLook into oneselfSee what lurks beneathBequeath an enduring legacyUpon an ever-changing worldFor even as time passes byPeople can still defy the skyAnd never need an alibiFor being whom they truly areFor everyone really is a…
Poetry
By: John Grey I’LL HEAD HOME SOON BUT NOT YET Near dusk,shadows roll across the lake,but I refuse to give my bodyback to bone and muscle,not now when I float amid sun-sparkles,ripple the waters with my fingers,almost trap tiny slithering…
Poetry
By: Selina Whiteley Tears of the Ariege, July 2012 The irradiated and toxic sun shinesagainst the agillate gulley, the discontinuous strata,like those misquoted, askew lines when you tryto quote Baudelaire. Gadolinium and radioisotopesglint on shale, like angry words in a…
Fiction
By Robert Feinstein It wasthe last night of the seventh grade basketball tournament and Harry Levine still hadn’t been given a chance to play in it. Oh, he was on the class team all right. It was a rule that…












