By Joaquin Chavez -- When I'm dead; do not mourn for me. At my funeral, do not wear black. Do not bring white flowers, do not have any bad blood for anyone who will be there. Wear as much color as you can. Remember to laugh at the good times we had, the tragedies you and I endured, everything we have done for each other, remember the little things about me like the little things I remember you for. I wish for a world where people will not have to fear. Put that on my gravest

By Joaquin Chavez -- “My name is Casey Lawrie. Take my hand. I am the Grim Reaper. One of many, to be exact, I am officially an Agent of Afterlife Services™, and my badge number is 9189. What I'm trying to say is, you're dead too. Hate to see the youth die young. At least I think you're young, maybe your skincare routine was great before you croaked. My job is to lead people through Limbo. I am not allowed to disclose what the afterlife is like, but I will say the lines are j

By Adrian Lopez -- What is there to do when a love turns fraternal? I paced up and down a little strip mall posing myself this question. I took a left turn across the street, my feet landing on a curved depression in the sidewalk which in an instant vanished my thoughts as my stability faltered and I found myself somehow on the ground. Unerringly I picked myself back up again and found where I was headed. A woman stood in what appeared to be fluid conversation with a darker

By Jehan zain Bano -- First time I saw you at the edge of the Golden gate bridge playing rocks in the ocean and moving her long fingers inside her blonde hair.She is hopping ,her hair loose in the wind ,smiling like a flutter,happy go lucky.The pain she is hiding within her is in the shadow of her smile took people in a nutshell.No pain no gain… A French muslim woman, Hana, 24 years old baking muffins ,taking out from hot oven flipping out in a tray putting mittens aside whil

By Nikole Donahue -- Step... (Breathe.) Fear. Step... (Breathe.) Darkness. ​I step into darkness. I step into fear. Screams and cries are my lullabies. It’s cold. My bones... my soul... my courage... It’s about to be sold. ​What hatred has been brought down? Upon my crown. Different hues of blackness glisten from the blood. I can barely see the white of others’ eyes. Am I dead? Am I alive? What type of hell have I been delivered to by the Devil himself? ​Step..

By Jehan zain Bano -- When sun rays are sharp Protect the eyes Otherwise Losing the sight When sun comes Earth swings Joy is imminent Protect your eyes From sunlight Cover your head Wearing scarf Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Cover your hands mm With Rubbermaid band Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Removes your shoe Barefoot Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Eating rice Break your fast Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Walking around Talki

By Andres Bellot -- The wall was engraved with seven vertical lines, and the man who stood before it reached into his cloak and grabbed his dagger to scratch in an eighth. While the grey linen shirt and black wool pants he wore underneath the cloak were obscured, they were the best pieces of attire he had to tackle the upcoming cold. Putting his dagger back into the leather holster attached to his belt, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small blue jagged crystal.

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- Artistic and creative, your style is comfy chic Resolute in moving forward, you leave nothing incomplete Interested in growth, your path is bright and wide Athletic and persistent, your strength is from inside. Nearing a new stage with potential in the stars, All of us are proud of the young lady that you are!

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- O my love is Amelia Rose, Who was newly born in March. O my love’s like a melody, That gently steals my heart. So fair you are, my darling girl Your tender smile commands With snowflake breath and rosebud lips Sweetly drifting into dreamland. As long as waves blanket the ocean, As long as stars brighten the night, My love for you will ne’er dim, My arms will be ready to hold you tight!

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- How do I love thee? Let me count the ways I love thee with the bated breath of anticipation, Unburdened by shadows of doubt. I love thee with untethered confidence In your perfection and unquestioned clout. As the first of your generation, You’re the seed of unshakable faith. You’ll blaze your own path to glory, Setting your own tone and pace. I love thee with the peace of wisdom, Unbothered by storms that will pass. Trusting the stronghold

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- Em’rald hills beckon Joyful return within reach Nerves beneath the scene Leaves crunch, trees asway Morning dew kiss greets the day Fresh role to glean Mem’ries cascading Friendly faces, welcome smiles Home at Evergreen!

By Noey B -- Click. I took the shot. Just came rolling uphill from Mt Pleasant High School. I went to the shopping center at White and Story back in December, yet my wheels treaded further towards Grand Century Mall. Go back an hour, I was getting flicks of residentials ‘cause the SAN JOSE TRIP required that nostalgia. Therefore I cruised through the East Side from Evergreen to Alum Rock. Land owners don’t mind the skies with satellites and three-hundred-sixty-degree cameras

By Noey B -- NOEY: After leaving [____] for a local event, I was scheduled to go to a different award ceremony only ten minutes away by car. I called my mom to ask for an Uber, but she was “busy” and my app wasn’t working at the time. So I thought, it’s only a few extra minutes, and I snagged the opportunity to capture street photography as I strolled by the Fairgrounds. N: The sidewalk pavement was filled with cracks and the buildings faded into grays. My eyes, offset by the

By Jayce Bayani -- My mother has only hit me three times in my life. Me, her only daughter. The first time was when I was 12. I exposed her boyfriend at the time for what he really was: a snake. A vile, good-for-nothing bastard. A shitstain unworthy of the ink I write this on. Back in those days, Nightswood was the biggest town in Paulson County, West Virginia. It was a sleepy town with a decent main street. Old folks would make it their mission to play bingo every Sunday n

By MG Allan -- Jasper found the manuscript on a flash drive that had been shoved in the back of a drawer in Morty’s desk. This was almost six months after Morty’s heart attack. It took Jasper that long to feel emotionally stable enough to really go through Morty’s things. Jasper had left his late husband’s office like a shrine, gathering dust to weight down all the memories. He could barely walk into the room without breaking into sobs. More than any other room in the hous

By Michael Fowler -- Little Richard, Sam the Sham, and Vanilla Ice sit grouped together on old stuffed chairs in the solarium at Asbestos Manor, a Medicaid-funded skilled care nursing home in Minneapolis. Each wears out-of-date street clothes and holds an acoustic guitar in his lap, occasionally strumming it tunelessly. Around them nurse aids carry away the last breakfast dishes from a nearby table covered by a stained floral tablecloth. As they go, Sam sets up a tablet on t

By Russ Bickerstaff -- Time certainly seemed to be running out. But I didn't necessarily know why. I mean, I knew that time was progressing forward minute by minute. I mean, I knew that. That always happens. Be kind of weird if it didn't. But there was something about it. That seemed kind of strange. I mean, it seemed to be running out. Not that it was progressing forward in a linear fashion. But it was progressing forward to a conclusion. A resolution. And ending. And that

By Yutzil Virgen -- Inside me, a fire burns– shadows whisper vengeance, fists of anger clenched around what once was sweet. My heart hides itself behind walls I built from fear, searching the echoes for the reflection of who I used to be. Once I was a warm river, a light that embraced, hands open to forgiveness, a voice that quieted storms. Now I walk among ruins, bitter like forgotten fruit, and I cry out to the heavens: “Do not let me fall.” I am the daughter of an eternal

By Yutzil Virgen -- I walk with both hands full– one cradling a flame, the other gripping darkness. The fire burns, a fragile warmth against the wind, reminding me I am still alive. The shadow pulls, a heavy tether to everything I've lost. I am both the lantern and the eclipse, both the hope and the wound. To love me is to hold both– the light I offer, the shadows I hide. And still, I keep walking with both hands full.

By Yutzil Virgen -- We build our temple from trembling hands, stone by stone, word by word, until it reached the sky. But you set fire to it, until even stone learned how to burn, dancing in the glow while I choked on the smoke. Every vow we whispered, cracked and crumbled, falling like prayers turned to dust. Now I carry the ruin– blood on my palms, ashes in my hair, a cathedral of grief where love once knelt. And still, my heart insists on beating in the silence, searching