The Guesthouse



The phone rang early Monday morning. I didn’t answer. “I’m selling the house,” announced Catherine. “If you want any of your father’s books, come take them.”

By Ann Calandro


Even within the room,

in shadow, you must turn

from that effulgence, and the voice precludes doubt.

By Frederick Pollack

White Room

The boy retreated without turning back towards the maelstrom of sound. His toes gripped the carpet and felt the pleasant crunch of unvacuumed grit. He was nearly up the stairs.

By Alex Law

Cosmic Swirl

The world explodes. Sedition, insurrection, coup all float in consciousness. I sink into wine. Childhood stares through midnight-colored Malbec reverie. 

By Yash Seyedbagheri

Man with Flower Collage

When I strode into the newly refurbished Roosevelt High School library that morning, Bryce jumped up – proudly, I thought – to greet me. 

By Amber Wong

Chinese Wisteria



This cafe underneath the pho restaurant only exists as part of a recurring dream, the sequence of events the same until I get to what I have to order. I decide to try something different each time I’m in Palisades Park, knowing that my return home is temporary.

By Janessa Vargas

Dark Roofs Housing Complex



My Honey, ​

If you are reading this, I am gone. If I am not gone yet and you have opened this, please put it back and wait until I am gone to pick it back up. This is the one dying wish I have for you. 

By Amanda Ganus

Wrapped Gift



Ashley Hubbard lay on her back at the bottom of The Pit, watching other teens on rusty four-wheelers ride above her. The Pit was a giant ditch that had been around for generations.

By Devan Brettkelly

Rocks in Desert