Post- Magazine
generational mixtape [narrative]
By Jedidiah Davis | September 18Nope. Nope. Not that one. Ehh… Definitely not that one. Nope…
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a letter to my fairies [narrative]
By Katheryne Gonzalez | September 18I used to believe in fairies.
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half-faded, but alive [narrative]
By Liza Kolbasov | April 24Lately, I’ve been watching myself disappear again. I remember the feeling, achingly familiar, like the warm hug of your covers when you know you’ve slept too long past your alarm. It used to cling to me constantly. My freshman year of college, at any given point, I wasn’t sure whether I existed. ...
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post- post- [narrative]
By Ellie Jurmann | April 24“We have a lot of fun here,” said a Brown Daily Herald staff member with his shoulders tensed up to his ears, in a tone so serious you would think he was delivering tragic news. Maybe the copious amount of devastating news he reports on the Daily has altered his perception of “fun.” The amount ...
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to be alone or not to be alone [narrative]
By Gabrielle Yuan | April 10I wonder when I started being afraid of alone time. It’s been an unconscious, foreboding feeling for so long; I’ve adopted it to the point that I feel like I exist as a result of the feeling. What happens now, when I’ve grown used to relying on others? Memories of my childhood sporadically come ...
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feminine woes at boarding school [narrative]
By Nina Lidar | April 10September, 2021
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the vacancy [narrative]
By Nina Lidar | April 3I sit in the passenger seat. My mother holds the wheel with both hands, staring ahead at the gray road under a gray sky. I know, without looking up from the electric-blue kickboxing wraps I twine around my knuckles, from the accelerations and decelerations of the car, which stoplight we’re approaching. ...
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four-leaf (c)lover [narrative]
By Ellie Jurmann | March 21If you cannot find me, look for me in the grass. In the rich green patches of earth, where the clovers grow, I am seated as I search for lucky four-leafs of my own. I sometimes feel guilty for uprooting the magic for the sake of my own collection. But then I stumble upon a little boy crying, and as ...
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making words out of nothing [narrative]
By Jeanine Kim | March 21As the theater shook with the shouts and crashes of the brutal action sequences, my parents and I sat in taut silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of popcorn and slurping of an extra-large Coca-Cola. The audience was entranced, eyes glued to the screen, even when the protagonist broke his leg ...
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spooled [narrative]
By Ana Vissicchio | March 13Sun streams in through the dirty windshield of my green Subaru. I prop up my knee as I drive, and if my mother saw me, she’d be upset. But you are the one in the passenger seat next to me, twiddling with my phone to pick a song on our nine-minute drive to Michael’s.
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saving it for a rainy day [narrative]
By Jeanine Kim | March 6I used to think rain wasn't real. Growing up in Los Angeles, famous for its year-long summer, a rainy day was a special occasion. Rain sparked a butterfly effect with far-ranging consequences—from causing distressed drivers to lose all coordination to inspiring elated jubilation from all the young ...
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the first snow [narrative]
By Lynn Nguyen | March 6I make a precise fold in half. I repeat with the same scrutiny, the same exactness, the same force, again and again. With a pair of safety scissors whose unused blades glimmer in my intent eyes, I calculate a snippet of the corner: Four thin, white triangles swirl down into my lap. Another cut at the ...
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the delightful ever changing of seasons [narrative]
By Gabrielle Yuan | February 28Autumn
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leap year meditations [narrative]
By Elijah Puente, Katheryne Gonzalez, Tabitha Lynn, Joe Maffa and Klara Davidson Schmich | February 28next chapters
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from the kitchen table [narrative]
By Ana Vissicchio | February 21My feet swing under the chipped wooden table. I soak in the smell of sizzling tomato sauce. My grandmother’s hands—soft from Pond’s hand lotion but aged from years of hot oil splashes—are a blur. I watch her float from oven to stove, guiding raw ingredients into a meal. Unwashed vegetables, ...
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n + 2 reasons i love you [narrative]
By Ellie Jurmann | February 15Dearest Mathematics,
