by Georgea Jourjouklis
“July eighth, noon,” Curio said into the voice recorder on his phone. “Targets A, B, C, exit their Honda after four days away from the primary location.”
He raised a pair of binoculars—a cheap, dollar-store brand his grandmother gifted him a few Christmases ago—then peered through the window at his neighbours across the street. The hot July sun beat down on his face. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction, Young Writers Edition
by Sophia Smith
A mangled row of bones stacks up from your hips
Filed under Poetry, Young Writers Edition
by Isabel Rhodes
They call me Maiden of the Night,
but I crawled out of the sun.
Celestial fluids dripped from my wings,
blisters marred my cheeks and bloody welts
rose out of my skin, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry, Young Writers Edition
by Shayna Cristy-Mendez
My body feels it before my brain can ever make sense of it; words always fail in their attempt to capture the sense of abandonment that comes with losing a parent to drug addiction. That particular sense of abandonment also tends to be exaggerated when their death falls on your birthday. As it happens, death has a habit of being a real foot to the groin of celebration. Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction, Young Writers Edition
by April Bannister
When her heart buys its ticket and packs its suitcase and settles in its window seat to watch the airplane heave up from the soil, she is at home—she has not yet laid in her hospital bed, nor stepped on an airplane herself. When her heart buys its ticket, she feels it, chloroform cold radiating from inside her chest. She panics. Hands clutch at something too deep to grasp, so she flails, alone in her bedroom, alone in the apartment. I can’t die yet, she thinks. There’s so much food I need to eat. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction, Young Writers Edition
Hawaii Pacific Review 