by RINA OLSEN (Guam)
Slick gray flesh. Slippery yellow flesh. Powdery white flesh. Three generations, one shrimp.
by KATIE STARKEY (United Kingdom)
"Green, they'd be green, just how my own grandpa used to have 'em," he sighs.
by FATIMA MOHIUDDIN (Pakistan)
The last move (the best move, the worst move, The Move) was almost four years ago
by ANNE BLACKWOOD (United States)
There is nothing profound about any of this. There is everything beautiful about all of this.
by REBECCA PARK (United States)
As we approach the river, the sight between its two bridges is my worst nightmare.
by ALENA LIN (Singapore)
With plates of food in hand, you are forced to greet vaguely familiar faces.
by GENEVIEVE SMITH (United States)
"Bye," she says. "Love you!"
I freeze, almost tripping down the steps.
by IZRAHMAE SUICO (The Philippines)
A falling star taught her how to wish, but a falling star apple trunk taught her something else.
by KESSLER SHUMATE (United States)
You listen for pleasure to some songs, for pain to others, Robin had said. Which was this?
by BRIELLE YOUNG (United States)
The story my grandfather told continues to shape me today.
by AALIYAH JALEEL (Canada)
That sun-kissed evening in 1914
by MAY ZHENG (United States)
Air sticks to my skin,
like honey. mosquitos circle my ankles and wrists
by SIRIN JITKLONGSUB (Thailand)
These are the scents I will take with me when I leave this house.
by ELEANOR LEWIS (Wales)
i have come back
to the village i swore i would never see again
by SAACHI GUPTA (India)
There’s a moment in kindergarten when I realize that the other grandparents don’t smile.
by GRACE LOVE (Australia)
We walked along the small terrace of grass, the blinding heat of the sun forgotten . . .
by BAYA LAIMECHE (United States)
She spoke with her hands, weaving stories out of air and breathing life into them . . .
by RUTH PORT (United Kingdom)
1. Come On Eileen, Dexys Midnight Runners
What can I say? As soon as this comes on you're grabbing my hands and spinning me around with that beautiful smile on your face and that joyful laugh rising in your throat.
by ANNIE CHENG (United States)
You always liked to watch the trains as they passed by, one after another, right on schedule. You liked the whooshing sound of the breaks as the train slowed into the station, and the whirring of the engine as it started up again.