Prose
Welcome to our prose page, where our short story submissions are featured. These works of prose are rich and wonderful, so don't forget to press the "read more" button in each box to read the entire works.
All authors are credited for their individual works.
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Dasharah Green
In the ninth grade, Star and I made our parents sign us up to play flag football after school. It was the first time they allowed girls to try out. I begged her to join the step team with me, but her hand-eye coordination wouldn’t allow it. The tryouts were a few months after my dad left us to move to Jamaica, so my mom had me on serious lock down. Right after school I ran straight to the shop every day to avoid getting into trouble.
The day before the permission slips were due, Star and I were in the shop doing homework until her mom got off from work. She looked up at me from her fractions and said, “Yo, just aaassskkk her! The worst she can say is no.”
I scoffed, “Oh, you really think that’s the worst she can say? She can’t go five seconds without kissing her teeth and swearing before Jesus to punish de waste man.”
We turned our heads slightly over our shoulder to watch my mom switch out the warming trays of hot food from behind the counter. She wore a deep scowl and her mouth muttered words we were thankful not to hear.
For Your Eyes Only
Jaymar Nixon
Prologue
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“John, tell me the story one more time — of how we met," Roberta said.
“Okay alright, so this is what happened. It was the afternoon, work was busy as usual and things didn’t look like they were slowing down either. My boss spoke to me shortly after I arrived and emphasized that I had to get this deal done. There was one more house on the market in Tarrytown that no one was willing to buy, and if I wanted that promotion, this was my only way in. I pressed my navy blue pants that morning until I saw my trousers sizzle under the iron. My white button-down received the same treatment, though I wish I went a little easy on the collar. Swiftly, I grabbed the solid black tie, I called it my ace of spades, my trump card which I could never go wrong with. With such a well-prepared outfit, it was only right that I paired it with my brand new Versace loafers, a slice of heaven that I save only for special occasions. I combed my hair to perfection and dashed out the door while only catching a glimpse at the time. I was to meet the buyer in 20 minutes and I heard she was not going to be an easy sell. I got there just in time and waited outside with my head straight forward and stood tall as if I were the Queen's Guard. I never pray, but today I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and I asked God to intervene on my behalf, and do something that I knew only he could do. Suddenly before I could even finish, I was accosted by the sound of a woman saying, “Helllooooo?” I quickly opened my eyes and looked up, then my heart pumped with authority. In one glance, I was stunned by her light brown eyes, so calming yet fierce. Her hair was curly and brushed back into a bun as if she rushed this morning, but still maintained a brush of perfection. I couldn’t tell if she had on make-up, but judging by her unwillingness to put on earrings, I don’t think she was in the mood to impress anyone today. I’ve always heard of love at first sight, though I never thought I would see myself being the one cliché in the room who agreed with it. But one thing I know for sure, if I wanted God to do anything for me today, it would be just to give me a chance with her. My adrenaline was definitely running the show as I made a feeble attempt to think of something clever. Come on John you got this, be a man!
Red and Green
Nadia Islam
As we stepped out of our ancestral home for the last time, we were greeted with fierce heat and masses of dust. The Bangladeshi sun showed us no mercy as we grudgingly hauled our 20-something luggages onto the rented van. This was it; it’s really happening. But it felt like any other day in our little village. We were perspiring and breathing heavily, especially my dad, who had pools of sweat on his bald head. My mom fanned her face idly while my little sister stood as if she would faint from the suffocating heat. Her face was pale, but I was unsure if it was from the weather or nervousness. I, on the other hand, could not wait to go. I felt the blood pumping in my ears as I sprinted back and forth from the familiar dirty doorstep to the rented van, carrying as much luggage as I could. My father smirked and called me his little man, but I only scoffed.
The day dragged on. When we reached the line at the airport, the airlines lady gestured to the other airlines staff while they discussed our passports— probably about how ridiculous my sister looked in her passport photo with her white powdered face. I winked at my sister while she groaned, rolling her eyes. She has to look beautiful, like the white people in America, my mom
had said. I got away with my normal appearance after I promised my mom that I will apply some Fair and Lovely cream, which I never put on. My little secret, I smirked, imagining my mom’s shock if she found out.
Lemon Drop
Rachel Johnson
“Jack and Coke, please.” The bartender nods and strolls off to make my drink. I plop my purse on the counter in front of me and the chair creaks as I lean back. Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the bar. A strange symphony assaults my ears. Waves of sound roll through the room, rising and falling and crashing into each other. The sound of girls yelling along to the music rolls over the murmur of private chatter. Clinking glasses gets swallowed by drunk guys chanting ‘Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!.’ The pounding of the DJ flows through it all, vibrating inside every cell in my body. Most of my friends find this place repulsive, but I’ve found this is the only place with enough sound to truly drown out my thoughts. My weekly visits here are more for the sound than the alcohol. Getting a drink just gives me something to do.
The voice of the bartender pulls my head up and opens my eyes. “Here ya go.” He smiles sweetly at me, gently setting my glass down.
“Thanks Ted,” I smile back.
“How was work this week?”
“Well, I got yelled at over the phone by two different clients, and one of our printers broke.”
Ted dropped his shoulders. “Not a good week then, huh?”
“Nope,” I replied, pulling my glass up to my lips and taking a sip.
Ted opened his mouth to say something else, but a loud mouth on the other side of the bar called for him before he could get anything out. He dropped his head, then looked up at me with a side smile.
The Ruse of Cigarettes
Nusrat Nasir
Convulsing.
Trembling.
Unrecognizable.
Presently, this is what my grandfather looked like. The same man who would book an appointment with the doctor months in advance, now laid in bed, shaking beyond his control.
His ears could not register the calls that were being made, over and over again, as his head and body were not in sync. Even with his rapidly depleting condition, we were hoping for a single gesture or word to come from my grandfather’s lips, but his mouth had no sign of being able to function again. He could not hear, he could not speak, and most certainly, he could not feel. His eyes were not functioning, since he stared at us, soullessly. My grandfather’s body was just bones in the shape of a human, slowly decaying, with ruins known as pain. The cancer in his lungs was expanding and the person within him was constricting. No matter what we did there was no getting to him, and with that, we held my grandfather with a familiar feeling of fondness. But he remained a caricature of the person we knew him as...
Perseverant.
Responsible.
There's a Monster Under My Bed
Sachika Yadav
Elle lay deep in her bed, pulling the covers up to her neck, hugging her small frame. She lay still, paralyzed with fear, hoping for this awful night to be over. A sliver of moonlight crept through her window blinds illuminating her dark bedroom. Above her, Fall Out Boy posters covered the walls, a signature of another phase that she was going through. An array of stuffed animals smiled at her from on top of her dresser: teddy bears, monkeys, giraffes, and a whole zoo of colorful toys. These were years of birthday presents from her father. These stuffed animals which usually brought her comfort now just stared back at her with black, beady, dead eyes. It was a warm summer night, but the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped below freezing. The shadows on the walls danced mockingly, laughing at the fear in Elle’s eyes.
She closed her eyes tight, trying to shut out her room and just disappear. All Elle ever wanted was to escape, and with her eyes shut and the voices outside muffled for a second, she had. She was sitting on the beach, her hands buried in the sand, the cool saltwater lapping at her feet. This was her favorite place in the whole world. Her eyes closed, she felt at peace as the warm sun high in the sky embraced her body. The sound of glass crashing against the hardwood floors outside her bedroom door erupted through the house and brought Elle out of her beautiful dream, and back to reality. Her eyes flew open and once again she was reminded of her immobilizing fear. The high pitched shrieks of terror rang in Elle’s ears.