non-fiction

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

Oscar Wilde

The cycle by Ava min

I’m so scared to have kids, ma. but– “no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle.” something maternal and raging inside me, the forget-me chemicals, tells me that this might be true: that the cycle will end with me because I know it is there.

Beneath Sky and Sea by Luisa Ferreira

ACT I

SCENE 1

The lights come up on Gate B26 in JFK Airport. A huge winter storm has delayed all activities in the airport, causing chaos amongst passengers. On one of the gate chairs is JEREMY HUDSON, a cool and fashionable twenty-two year old. He has a pair of expensive headphones on and is reading a book. Next to him are two empty seats.

Travel notes by anonymous

I am a firm believer in the fact that anyone visiting a country for a period longer than a few days should have at least a cursory understanding of the native language.

something from my notes app by alexa smith

I hope these words wander into your brain and make themselves at home. Maybe they'll make themselves a cup of coffee and peruse through your short term memory.

airport melodies by arezu tavakoli

Airports, in their purest form, represent freedom. They act as a means of escape, a bridge to the other side, and a VIP pass to experience that infamous green grass.

smells that save by sophia ortega

1. My favorite scent is both a color and a smell: Lavender.

The Tastes I Miss, or, The Tastes I Haven't Had by camille hermida-fuentes

I have a good friend of mine who stayed in New York, who stayed when I left. He’s always been a good cook, to the point where if he said he was opening up a restaurant I wouldn’t doubt it.

i am by gabrielle dinizo

Hi, my name is _____ and I am _____.

MISSING POSITANO BY CAMERON PRICE

When I close my eyes, I am in my kitchen.

lessons from the psych ward by michael byrne

I learned how to speak about my condition candidly.

sometimes I look at a stranger by warren green

She went to a private school so she was probably wearing the uniform. Her hair was dyed pink and there were Sharpie blossoms drawn onto her forearm.

Before bumble by rebecca slaman

“Im gay lol”

It started with a drunk blog post I happened to scroll past one late Friday evening in August. Laying in bed, my eyes squinted at my friend’s name as the author of this post while my stomach became a hive of bees.

Golden Milk by Elizabeth Triscari

Golden milk is the D&D, fantasy paperback word

for a turmeric latte.

untitled memories by zane austill

There is only one night I can’t forget, mostly. 

a morning that came before last night’s caffeine had wore off by evan volbrecht

I closed my eyes, and it seemed as if an eternity passed, stories and worlds passing like a fever dream in my semi-subconscious, but when I again opened them all those years later only a few minutes had transpired.

a change of scenery by panhardith in

Year after year, many college students flock to New York City in search of a life of labels or a life of love, and being a young adult in New York yields itself to glamorous shops, amazing internships, great parties and potential relationships.

i am not an artist by emily hoffert

“You are not an artist,” he says to me, extending his arm out directly in front of him, envelope in hand.

freshman faux-pas by panharidth in

Freshman year in high school or college is the epitome of stress, distress and an abundant amount of mistakes. But I had to wonder: what mistakes do you NEVER EVER want to repeat for the next “freshman year?”

a cautionary tale by isabel daniel

My mother has always told me I am very self motivated.