Mikayla Murrin

I took up the bundle in my hands and set out. Janie followed the same path, crunching lazily at a granny smith, juice dribbling down her outcropped chin. She didn’t wipe away the sugar water. Her tongue ran along her lips and she sucked at them...

Harriet Winterer

Nothing blossoms in dust. Maybe there are some weeds, some dried up bushes waiting to be blown away, but the dust gives nothing of itself; all the lovely things learn to go somewhere else, somewhere they are cherished...

Aisling O'Connell

Parentucellia Viscosa, also known as the Yellow Bartsia, is a common wildflower in Ireland. It can be found in damp places and wet meadows. Once a year, yellow flowers grow from its sticky and hairy limbs. It is native and thrives on disturbance...

Eliza Powers

The rabbit is dead. The pencil stands straight up, stabbed through Bubbles’ stomach. There isn’t any blood. “This is how I found him,” says the kindergarten teacher, leg bouncing, frantic...

Sophia Wu

They dug the hole. He lives down there, but they dug the hole. Right there, right beneath my feet. I fell through, and now I cannot see. He guides me along, his hand icy on the small of my back. I stumble because I cannot see...

Isabel Cai

The metal rack was crowded; pumps, ballerinas, mules, loafers, and moccasins, all stood tightly against each other. But a pair of black patent stilettos with crimson soles stood out from the rest...

Eliza Powers

Marley and Evelyn were twenty-eight minutes into the required sixty-minute baking time for one application of Orange Mist suntan oil when they heard the crack of the belt buckle...