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Three Times
By Jayce Bayani [First place] -- 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
May 28 min read
THE STRANGER
By MG Allan [Second place] -- 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
May 26 min read
The Southern Stars
By Matthew Wherttam [Third place] -- This year, I should see the Southern Stars. I would have to travel below the equator to do that, but wouldn't it be worth the trip? The light from those stars has taken hundreds, thousands, and, in some cases, millions and billions of years to reach us, and those stars have been moving to other places all those years. Some of them have even blown themselves to bits in gigantic bursts that will also take many years to get to Earth. So don
Feb 12 min read
My Rock, My Life - A
By Davonna Rodriguez -- I feel I always need to be doing a million things Or else I'm falling behind Or not doing enough My rock, my beach, my bean Comes and grounds me. Your curly hair Dark brown eyes Rough yet soft hands Hold me, secure me. The world can be so cruel Not understanding of where I belong But I always know I belong with you, You and orange, brown, and blue. Author Bio: Davonna Rodriguez is an English major, working to achieve her Bachelors Degree and hopes to w
May 131 min read
Renegades
By Kyle Ethan Valla -- Drip… Drip… Drip… The rain. It had made its way down to the fourth floor, near our homeroom. What was left was the natural element breaching our artificial world in the form of a waterfall flowing down a flight of stairs, with its perpetrator being the doors to the rooftop, opened slightly enough to allow the rainstorm outside to make its entrance. Looking down, observing my now soaked sneakers, the realization of what caused this slight flooding sl
May 1312 min read
How
By Sophia Leat -- Written with the intensity of the Russian dialect, interact with the uncertainty of a calf's first steps. What suit to follow remains unbeknownst to me, so I lean into the desire of feeling. I blink and blink and blink, though I cannot seem to rid my eyes of the remnants of my emergence — it has managed to remain unwavering ambiguity. My presence as uncomfortable and unavoidable as gastrointestinal issues — as a concave mirror my focal point remains undis
May 131 min read
POETRY
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