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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s long and light violet and it writes violet too. It’s like the upper half of an hour glass — from the felt tip to the cap attached to the back, it’s a crescendo. It says “Le Pen // Marvy Japan” on the side; this is where my thumb always hits when I’m writing. Its sleek barrel ...
  • Fiction > Scripts & Plays
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    Lights up. HE and SHE are sitting at small, wooden table in the middle of their apartment, HE on Stage Left and SHE on Stage Right. HE has a newspaper at his setting; SHE has a book at hers. She puts down her book, having just completed it. Their apartment window on Stage Left is open and there are ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Eleanor scribbled, she scrabbled, she scrobbled, she was a visionary, she was a hobo, she was a child, she couldn't decide. She saw the world's pinks and purples but ignored the greens and yellows. She was a warm person, a warm-blooded person, she poked the bracelets on her arm with that warmth, she...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She was the type of person who, with platinum blonde hair, opal eyes, and the perfect body, attracted all the men. Her first date was in 7th grade with a boy named Howard who knocked on her door at precisely 5:02 to escort her to the movies. He was wearing a thick yellow scarf around his neck in an ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I can’t remember his name, but someone once told me to ask questions to anybody in the world about anything in the world at any time in the world, and I took his advice. I soon became known as Mr. Interrogator, a nickname I made sure to live up to. The room was never quiet when I was in it (but th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I can never forget the way The sunrays danced off of the mirror in your hallway. They made a lightshow on the floor And brought alive your Crisp white walls, Your crisp white boring walls. There was no hint of age In your house that day Except for your doorknob, Which I was forced to clutch...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Frederic was living in Rowan County, Kentucky. He listened to Chopin and ate a pie. And it was delicious. He thought about symbols and formulas and operations and what good mathematicians do with unsolvable problems. ?? He spoke a sermon and praised Jesus and was nocturnal for a night after 32 cu...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    three minutes before the bomb how could we know that something would harm the perfect bridge we’d created between trusting and dreaming and all things of meaning like colors we’d grasp in our outstretched hands, pieces of places we’d seen long ago, before life was defined by demands. i...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Her hair is a brushfire and no matter what I do I can't put it out. It keeps burning and burning, a fierce way of showing that everything will be okay because there’s something constant about this brush fire, this paradise, a temple of living pillars where each pillar keeps growing ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    the boy who stayed on the train did not fall asleep in his rusty neighborhood anymore his mind was the only sharp thing he could afford no ?revenge on his past (on the cold summer nights and the people and the fights over nothing at all) no nothing like that because it’s insanity that keeps...
  • College
    Guide > College Essays
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    Cue stage lights:  A man and woman are sitting on opposite sides of a table, his face hidden behind a newspaper and hers behind a book. They do not speak, but I am already running through the conversations they will soon have and the words that will be left hanging in the air. When the dialogue ...
  • Fiction > Scripts & Plays
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    Lights up. The stage is split in two halves by an invisible barrier. On Stage Left, a young girl wearing large sunglasses sits on a patch of grass, remaining absolutely still, aside from a few small, jerking movements with her right hand every few minutes. She stares intently at what is, in her m...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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