by
Danny Singer
Published January 23, 2016
My dad’s zebra hair was black with a few specks of white. It was his forty-first birthday. It seems that as each year passes, his hair gets more and more white. We were planning to...
by
Olivia Smit
Published January 23, 2016
The captain of the ship Sea Horse sat back in his chair and drank a long drain of his coffee. They were almost to Spain, their destination, and the only mishap had been the thunderstorm...
by
Julia Gaitley
Published January 23, 2016
“I wish I was like them, the seals,” I say to Russ, still a little dazed. “Why the seals? Why not any of the other animals we have seen?” Russ asks with a puzzled look...
by
Sophie Tottman
Published January 23, 2016
Gemma was shielding herself from a sandstorm of dandelion seeds. Her tutor, Dominick Vickson, and herself were right at the core of a lush field. “As you can see,” Dominick called above the strong summer...
by
Julia Clow and Olivia Smit
Published January 23, 2016
Somewhere on his travels, Conroy had found it. The human pup. He had brought it home for lack of a better thing to do with it. He had thought that maybe they could use...
by
Jacob E. Gerszten
Published January 23, 2016
Whenever my parents plan a vacation for my younger sister and me, they never include Disney World or a Caribbean cruise on our itinerary. Instead, they define a vacation as a learning experience that expands...
by
Madelyne Xiao
Published January 23, 2016
“Here,” my mom shouted in Mandarin over the bubbling of the cooking pot. She lifted her hand and motioned me over. “Hold on to the handle,” she grunted, nodding to the handle of the slowly...
by
Katharine Keller
Published January 23, 2016
The crunch of the pickup truck’s wheels and the sound of the girl’s breathing were all that could be heard as the rusty vehicle huffed to a dusty stop in front of the low sprawling...
by
Emma T. Capps
Published January 23, 2016
In Memoriam. Angelo Salvatore D’Amico, 1919–1989. That was what I wrote, at the bottom of the painting, in felt-tip pen. That isn’t the beginning of this story. It’s the end. This story starts a month...
by
Emi Cohen
Published January 23, 2016
Ophelia crumpled up yet another piece of notebook paper and threw it in the general direction of the garbage can. It missed by roughly five feet. Ophelia shrugged. Her cat, Butterbell, would find it eventually...
