Dream Souvenirs
By Audrey Doyle
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At the Appointed Time
By David M. Alper
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Here I am
longing for what will never be
taken apart by an unbearable discontent
happiness goes away
humankind
spending too much time on a terrible story
it’s likely going to be ugly
it’s likely too that it’s either absurd choices
or a heinous tomorrow
an increase of this accidental tragedy
blinded by the promises of heaven
easily taken in I am
despite
the rumors of the curtain calls
without being seen
after years of this
I’m not myself
as kids learn to twitch
there is no second chance
Gardens Watered by Running Streams
By Brandon Marlon
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Paradise, you should know, is but a version
of our world where everything is
just as it should be; hereabouts
brooks flow through lush meadows
frequented by hovering hummingbirds
and butterflies flitting between flowers
as dark-eyed houris, virginal but nubile,
splendidly endowed, outstretch and sun
themselves on lawns or rove vineyards,
ready and eager to ensorcell newcomers
with their wiles and charms, with figures
sinuous and sensuous, lovely to behold.…
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From Something, Nothing
By Kenny Black
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The echo of shackles in motion filled the room with a searing tension. “Kneel,” a guard commanded as he forced it down. The king’s eyes widened in a mix of wonder and terror as he gazed upon what knelt before him. Or, as it felt, what didn’t. It was emptiness in the form of a human body. What knelt before him felt not like a creature, but the lack of one—an inky void from head to toe with the exception of its eyes, like an inferno condensed and solidified into the form of eyeballs.
“What is this?” the king questioned.
“It was found in the walls, no explanation as to how it got in.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the king asked the creature with a tone that held an initial strength, but weakened with every proceeding second of silence.…
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The East Village Cowboy
By Anthony Alas
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St. Ignatius High School, 2000
Teenagers filled the auditorium, dressed in preppy uniforms. Cheerleaders appeared on stage. They danced to pop hits of vintage hits, B*Witched’s “C’est la Vie,” Mandy Moore’s “Candy,” and Spice Girls’ “Spice Up Your Life.”
The cheerleaders yelled, “We got spirit. How about you?”
Students would yell back, “Yeah, we got spirit. Yes, we do.”
Ezra sat with headphones, unbothered. He had big, funky tortoiseshell glasses and wore a tie and shirt, contrasting his alternative vibe. He listened to the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Muzzle” with the volume way up to drown out the bubble gum pop. It could have worked better. It made a weird smashup between Mandy Moore and the Smashing Pumpkins. Ezra took a bite of his Twix bar, hoping it wouldn’t break a bracket or twist the braces wires.…
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Escaping the Feral Bird
By Triniti Brown
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The Sun tries to say hello, but
bid her farewell, she’s not welcome
here. The darkness soothes
the sound of the feral bird rapidly
flapping its wings, beating against
its bone cage. It’s exhausted and
wounded. But it aches to hurt even more.
Shaking its cage. Left. Right. Up. Down.
Trapped. It’s too much for the bones to
bear. As the Sun shines light on the
imperfections of the world. The Moon’s
wickedness caters to the feral bird’s
craters. This is what it comes down to:
always sleeping my days away. This is what
it comes down to. Trying to keep the
feral bird at bay.
Author’s Note: “Escaping the Feral Bird” represents the internal chaos of anxiety and depression. The “feral bird” is a symbol of the frantic, relentless thoughts that cage you, leaving you exhausted and trapped.…
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The Coin
By Rylee McCullough
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A weathered penny lay in a blue transparent case on a well-organized shelf, surrounded by books and little knick-knacks. Its edges were worn, its engravings almost erased by years of hardship. This coin was once proudly minted in 1873 with a flying eagle printed on one side.
The coin’s journey began by passing from hand to hand, pocket to pocket, its shiny surface dulled by countless dealings with machines. One dark day the life of the penny took a tragic turn. It was a cold winter evening when its owner dropped it out of their pocket on New York City Street—forgotten and kicked around by bike wheels, bottoms of shoes, and dog paws.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as the penny lay among the dirt and filth of the ground.…
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