The two faced each other, finally. Her eyes, like knitting needles, had prodded his left cheek for the past hour, not enough to hurt. Hurting needles do not irritate as her needles do. Avoiding the dead stare, he opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m so sor-”
Smothered by her single upright finger on his lips, the unfinished idea bounced eight times before settling.
“I’m so sor-”
“I’m so sor-”
“I’m so sor-”
“I’m so sor-”
…
Shhhh, she whispered. Continue reading
by Michael Lutzker
Alan’s face
outer space
makes me go to my
happy place
Alan’s face
watch it flutter with such grace
to call it ugly is a disgrace
perfection of the human race
i want to see it draped in lace
grind it up and make a paste
brush my teeth with it in haste
lean in and give it a quick taste
only after i spray it with mace
Alan’s face
by David Xie
This year, the Chinese Lantern Festival coincides with Valentine’s Day. I figured I would celebrate with a little poem.
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Left
right
and left again
but I knew
no matter where I looked
he wouldn’t be there
I smiled to myself
as I looked down
and remembered when
he put his head on my shoulder
on the school bus ride home
I was bony
and the bus bumped
and he didn’t sleep
but we stayed still
Notes: An origin myth of a society self-aware of its flaws, praying for deliverance from its hell. 3 sons create a trichotomy of human error. In reply to the Myth prompt.
Continue reading
This week, we challenge our writers to craft a myth or legend. Typically passed through the ages by word-of-mouth, these stories helped explain unknown phenomena and philosophical questions. Today, religion can play a big role in people’s lives, shaping our worldview, our ambitions, and our life’s meaning. Said Alan Watts, British philosopher,
A myth is an image in terms of which we try to make sense of the world.
A crafted myth or legend should carry some sort of message or meaning, and offer interpretation. However, it must also be simple in its most basic form or idea.
Cosmogonia by David Xie
Aurelia by Maya Asregadoo
Daydreams by Alan Osmundson
Written in response to the Death prompt. This piece was also inspired by a true story of a family friend, dramatized and injected with a bit of Gatsby-esque feelings that I had on the experience.
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I came to the new country with hope for a new life. But now, suspended an inch above the water, time stops, and I realize the new life has ended.
The first months were difficult for me. I came with my husband to a land of a garish culture and alien noise. The English that I had learned in school back at home sounded nothing like the street talk here. When I opened my lips to speak, corners of mouths turned upwards mockingly and bade me shut my lips back closed. When I came to my job in the small shop, the pale faces glared at me, and companionship was scarce. But here was the land where wallets swelled larger than the Mother Ocean and spirits rose higher than the Father Sun. If I tried hard enough, I knew, the new country would find a way for me to achieve greatness. Continue reading
She lost consciousness an hour ago. Most of it was out of her, but I was still missing the head and one arm. There was just so much blood though. I mean, I expected blood, but there was A LOT of blood. Continue reading
Words 