Category: Prose

April in Summer

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by Hachi Chuku

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April Elizabeth Randall was the kind of girl that you just couldn’t help yourself being endeared to. Her delicate saccharine features complemented her sanguine personality so that you couldn’t frown at her for longer than a few seconds. When she turned to walk away, you dreamt of the moment in which your paths might cross again. I met her at the library in my hometown of Manhattan, Kansas when the leaves were still a brilliant green; not yet blushing from the promise of winter. I had a job working at the library on the campus of Kansas State, a work study position that allowed me to have my nose in a book when I wasn’t manning the shelves or doing sudoku puzzles.

She walked up to me carefully, wearing an orange tube top and high waisted flared jeans and asked me gently where she could find books on houseplant keeping.

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Legacy

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by Huina Zheng

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‏During the turbulent years of the Cultural Revolution, Grandma would close the worn wooden door when night fell.

Lying in bed, Grandma and Mom were gently wrapped in darkness. In a soft voice, Grandma told my young mother ancient folktales and historical stories, all of which her own mother had told her: the story of Nuwa, who made humans out of yellow earth and water; the tale of Meng Jiangnu, who wept for her husband, who had died while building the Great Wall. Her tears moved Heaven and Earth, causing a section of the Wall to collapse, revealing her husband’s remains; and the story of Jingwei, who drowned in the Eastern Sea and transformed into a bird, tirelessly bringing stones and twigs to fill the sea, vowing to avenge her drowning.

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Drummer

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by Dane Erbach

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“Harder!” Joe shouts from his podium, yells over violin bows stuck in the air like an unruly haircut. “Hit that bass drum as hard as you can!”

The orchestra spins toward me—rows of smarmy teenage smiles, annoyed; of middle schoolers wild with amusement, squirming their chairs.

“Have you ever heard Jurassic Park’s soundtrack?” Joe asks, his bald head shining in the fluorescent light. “The big BOOM at the beginning?”

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Immortality

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by Matias Travieso-Diaz

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I want to live for immortality, and I will accept no compromise.
– Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

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Iry-Hor was feeling the weight of his years.  

He had been for decades the head of a growing empire that controlled much of Egypt and had extended northward towards the delta of the sacred river Nile. In the process of his conquests, he and his armies had slain thousands of men loyal to the local chieftains who opposed him. He was known and feared throughout the land, which was adorned with temples erected in his honor and countless statutes that proclaimed him as the hegemonic ruler of the greatest empire the world had known. Yet, he found himself increasingly dissatisfied. Would posterity grant him the recognition and acclaim his deeds warranted? Would his name inspire veneration, or at least awe, in generation after generation to come?

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Notes on the Life of a Mayfly

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by Matias Travieso-Diaz

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Compared to a star, we are like mayflies, fleeting ephemeral creatures who live out their lives in the course of a single day.

– Carl Sagan

1. Egg

The round, whitish egg that was to become Dolania[1], the heroine of our story, was among a thousand-plus identical ones deposited by their mother as she dipped her abdomen into the river’s water during flight, releasing a small batch of eggs each time. As their mother died and floated away, the eggs sank to the murky river bottom.

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Depth of Field

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by Celso Antonio de Almeida

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Marcel’s cloth moved in small, precise circles, coaxing a shine from the leather beneath his hands. The morning bustle of the Boulevard du Temple swirled around him, a chaotic dance of horses, carriages, and hurried Parisians that contrasted sharply with his own stillness.

“You’re quiet today, Marcel,” Henri observed, peering down at the bootblack. “Troubles at home?”

Marcel’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Monsieur Beaumont. Just thinking about changes.”

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Winter’s Eye

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by Caitlin Stratton

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The doe’s ears stood out, illuminated by an orange glow. Further ahead, in the middle of a clearing, sat an uneven log cabin. Smoke rose from its chimney, and the origin of the orange seeped from a frosted window, showing off a burning fire inside. A small hand pulled the window curtains to one side, letting the light dance into the clearing, and a child’s eyes investigated the deer with a twinkle. The doe stilled, matching the child’s gaze.

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French Press

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by Megan Nicholson

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I asked for this reality of living on my own, alone. Being alone means you are solely responsible for your quality of life, with no one else to rely on. And goddamn, I really need to clean these dishes. They’ve been sitting there for a week, and god knows there’s plenty more around this damn apartment that needs to be washed. I did the first half of the dishes yesterday; now I need this second half done so I can clean out Pepper’s litter tray. The poor thing’s open bathroom is filled with interwoven fur and hay and pellets. There’s so much to get done, and there’s still four hours before I need to get to bed and wake up for work tomorrow.

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Not the Last Catch

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by Ibrahim Azam

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O’Neill watched the sun peek over the horizon. The first of its rays had bled through the sky. Brady looked back at the village, shrinking out of sight as they pushed the johnboat further into the water.

It was a cold morning. The wind was callous, hitting both men in the face, spattering pockets of seawater with each strike. Unruffled, O’Neill began preparing the fishing rods. Three decades parading this ocean, he thought. And I ain’t letting some rookie slow me down.

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The Letter Contract of the “Civilised”

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by Roukia Ali

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“The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.” – George Orwell, “1984”

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Before you are to be welcomed into the ranks of us Civilised people, we ask that you review the criteria of your adherence below. Failure to abide by and/or blatant infractions committed in regards to these articles will not go unpunished. Know that in either case we are just, good, peaceful people. We weigh all matters impartially, as is the responsibility of our faculty as the supreme holders of power. Yet to ensure the order by which these operations are made possible, we hold you in writing and in action to the same regard of compliance and critical thought.

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