My parents’ eyes lock on me the minute I enter the reception hall. A few other head turns and  lingering looks shoot my way, undoubtedly due to the show-stopping quality of my dress. Mom  picked it out for me at the department store a few weeks ago. I remember struggling to conceal  my disgust when a pink, frilly monstrosity you’d think she’d stolen from the closet of a pompous  toddler came out of the shopping bag.

“The date’s going fine, right? She’s kinda quiet but whatever, cute girl in a pink dress. No complaints”

My mother told me it was contagious, her proclivity for loneliness. When I was a boy, I couldn’t quite describe that emptiness in the pit of my stomach, that perpetual knot in my throat, that inexorable desire to be a nuisance to those who were sick of my company, that self-hatred knowing that people were, in fact, sick of my company. I was eighteen when she told me, shortly after my aunt passed away. She went to New York for a work trip, and I was left alone, left to my own

i. Träumerei, "Kinderszenen" No. 7; Robert Schumann I was four when I fell in love for the first time. With tender fingers, I traced every one of your lines, black and white smudged slightly with my fingerprints. Naive, my hands caressed your surface like a lover delicately exploring the depths of her beloved’s heart. The world was at my fingertips; you were my world. Your mind lay open before me, a sheet of paper studded with dots and lines and symbols, the genius of all th

The Amber House, Main Hall, 1920s

The bar was eerily empty. I was, unfortunately, the first to arrive, which left me with the task of finding a comfortable enough table for my friends. I looked around as nonchalantly as possible, inexplicably embarrassed as I turned my head right to left, eventually deciding on a large booth in a somewhat desolate corner. I sat down, took out my phone, and tapped absentmindedly, having nothing of importance to look at. After a few minutes, a young woman walked up on the bar’s

In the realm of the Djinn, warmth emanated from apples. Apples were big fireballs that grew on smoky trees whose size, shape, or color never changed. Djinns, who looked like glowing strings, treated these apples as a display in the magnificent orchard and never ate them, because fire was the stuff of life in this realm. Wild stallions ran on open russet plains, where a river of lava flowed from charred mountains and formed a valley. Djinns called it the Valley of the Red. The

The classroom door slams open with the rough tumble of edge only brought upon by teenage girls. It lets in a drafty winter breeze, which the other students grumble at before quickly quieting down when they realize who’s arrived. You look up from your hidden corner by the window, undisturbed by the presence of these forces of nature. Bryce blazes in, the other girls quick to follow at her heels. Always hauntingly picture-perfect, as if they had stepped straight out of a collec

I dreamt about my sister, dead these many years. It seemed she was in a place of ghosts. In my dream I put my face up to hers and kissed her cheek and said, "I'll always be your sister." But she turned her face away and closed her eyes. Her cheek was cold. I said, "Do you want me to take you away, dear? Come, come! Let us go!" But she only looked sad and didn't speak. My son was with me but in my dream he was a young boy. I mean, my son at seven, not the way he is now. He was

There was a cabin in the center of a grove. Trees like giants. It looked like they were scraping the sky. This cabin sat right in the middle of a small clearing. Tall ceilings. Big porch. Windows everywhere. It was beautiful. Once a girl found this cabin. It was like finding a gem after picking away at rubble for so long. She quickly settled in. After all, the cabin was empty and looked long forgotten. Also, she had been walking for days and days and days, wandering. It was s

Destruction She runs. She runs and the Devourer hunts her relentlessly. It is a creature of fire and chaos and death. She had bound it once with powerful magics and used it as her ultimate weapon. But now it has been freed, it remembers who enslaved it, and it hungers for her soul.  She runs over the desert sands, heedless of the bloody footprints she’s leaving behind her. She looks ahead and sees a statue. In days past, she might have looked at the stone colossus and seen

The pine woods creaked lazily in the slightest of breezes as I returned to the cabin. Wood pigeons and songbirds cooed and twittered above my head, no doubt enjoying the afternoon sun as much as I did. It crossed my mind to sit down under the trees and join them for an hour or two, but I had the latest box of samples under my arm, and more than enough work to get through before the pickup scheduled for the end of the week. I’d been alone in the woods for three long weeks and

"I need to go out," Emma didn’t care whether anyone in the residence's security staff heard her or not. Everything that happened in the main hall was recorded and monitored live, so someone definitely did. "I'm going to the forest," she added, knowing this would keep them from bothering her. The forest behind the residence was a safe zone. It stretched far from public streets and was surrounded by the protected grounds of the government estate. She needed to get her thought

Jack received a package on the night of his graduation. It was from his brother, Gabriel — he lived too far away.  He opened the package with a razor and unpacked it onto the table. A hologram emitter: this small circular thing. Similar to a fire alarm or a hockey puck.  He took the device and attached it to the wall. It gave a small whistle as it received its signal, and the little machine came to life.  Jack’s phone whistled too, and so he took it up: “Gabriel?” “Alrigh

Brick didn’t remember falling asleep by the motel pool. When he awoke, he sorely regretted it. As he stirred on the plastic lounge chair, he felt miserable. Placing a hand on his stomach made him wince. “Oh no,” he groaned. After all the times he warned his daughter about using sunscreen, Brick made the mistake of napping under the blazing July sun with no protection. His chest, arms, and legs were as bright red like his hair. “Terrific,” Brick muttered to himself. “Just te

Lucy stepped on an ancient landmine outside Girvetz Hall. I talked to her Brother, Suvin, about it while we were on the beach, and Lucy was treated in the aid center. “If it had been one of those new ones, I’m not sure there would be any Lucy left.” He said. Across the sea, the single oil platform stood proud and sturdy, impressing us from miles off the coast. The green, littered waves came lazily ashore in a way that almost made them look safe. We continued down the bea

Her eyes were shiny and still, like glass. Her skin, now the texture of porcelain, and devoid of any life; pale as the face of a ghost. The frequency of a thousand shattering dolls rang through the space between her ears as she mindlessly played the cello. She could not feel the bow in her right hand or the instrument pressing her thighs. She could not feel anything. The fair lady stared into the dull abyss of the crowd with a tragic blindness.  1968  Tabitha Rogers was a s

Jade thrusts the marinated fish into the wok before instinctively flinching. The oil jumps up from the wok immediately, just as she anticipated; one pop after another. The little girl struggles to keep her balance atop the splintered wooden stool, despite her toes being firmly planted. The cabin is not evident of any signs of life, with the dead silence only disrupted by the sizzling of vegetable oil. She adds a spoonful of salt and mixes it around with a chuan, routinely. Sh

August of 1999  When Jim Gradferd died, everyone in the bloodline had rushed to the chapel, even those who weren’t speaking to him during his lifespan.  Mammilyn Gradferd, the feeble widow of Jim Gradferd, had taken a seat in the back row of the church, staring at her husband’s solemn portrait that was displayed on the left side of the casket. His black tie looked more faint and his limpid eyes looked more cloudy under the gleam of the pristine chandeliers.  The Pastor

Shape shifter  This would be the first time I’m saying that every opposing side knows their rights and has their lefts stashed in courage. Just like people at the end of the war will see six out of nine, it’s the same way no one can convince the others that it is not nine they are seeing. I’m writing from the middle of disagreements, understanding that I can never be in the shoes of anyone or point fingers at their shortcomings.  In class, I argued for the people who upheld