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By Sejin Choi, ’22 Ever since she was a little girl, she felt like she was missing something. She dreamed that she would one day find it and finally feel whole. If not, it was okay, because she doubted that anyone ever felt whole anyways. The first time she looked up at the drunk, heavy night sky, she knew at first glance that the only thing that could make her feel whole were the stars. Since then, she sky gazed every night, trying her best to articulate to others the sense of fulfillment and thirst she got simultaneously. During the…
Keep readingSeaside Procession
A vignette by Editor-in-Chief Jacob Landau, ’22 I’ve never seen the wonders of an Aquarium on a weeknight; perhaps only when the weather has been too treacherous have I wanted to go. Who would bother to waste their energy climbing through the snow onto the purple line, among strangers, only to watch the fish in their foreign land? And even so, why subject yourself to such horrors on the train to get there? The T, among strangers, is of the most chaos in its joint captivity; everyone is stuck in a foreign place until they have an opportunity to leave.…
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A Vignette by Lucy Calcio, ’22 She gazes through the droplets forming on the windowpane in front of her. The drops splash on the window and slowly make their way down, racing each other across each pane, then finally falling in the same wet puddle below them. She looks beyond the droplets as the waves crash below the gray sky that vastly spreads above the beach. One after another, the white foam surfs the top of the wave as it holds on until the sweet relief of crashing over the top and on the sand below it.
Keep readingTogether, Forever
You tap your foot with nervous excitement as you sit in the waiting room at the MIT Medical hospital. At first glance, the room looks like a typical foyer. However, the hospital has been a state-of-the-art facility for biotechnical research for the past decade. You glance around the room disapprovingly at the worn leather chairs, cheap paintings, wooden tables, and old magazines. Unfortunately, only the expensive holographic projector displaying the latest local news in the corner hints at the cutting-edge technology hidden inside the building. You drift away from the projector’s babble and think back to when you started your…
Keep readingLife on the Docks
Essay from an anonymous student: Call him David–that’s his name. And much like the Biblical King, he was young; nineteen years old, to be exact. Fresh out of high school and acclimating into his first semester of college, he decided to take a weekend off. He’d visit the docks—it would be nice, he thought. Free from the burdens of higher education, would enjoy an afternoon by the seashore, the sea breeze running through his mane, the salt in the air tickling his tongue and leaving the fresh taste of ocean waters.
Keep readingGrapes
a vignette by anonymous, class of 2023 Smiling is a privilege. There are some who can wake up in the winter with short days and still be smiling when the orange sun sets, hiding itself away from the constant disruptive buzzing that hums on the ground. Even there, there was a smile that was seen from miles away.
Keep readingdavid and the yak
a short story by Timothy Bonis, ’22 The morning two days before A. S. was supposed to travel home to Kensington for Easter, British Rail decided to strike. Mostly it was no issue; A. S. knew he would drive back to London and one of his roommates, David Blair, was a scholarship boy from Liverpool who didn’t go home for Easter holiday. His other roommate, Weetman Harold Miller Stewart, was a whole different kettle of fish; he was already the fourth Marquis of Badenoch and was already complaining.
Keep readingcat cult
a short story by anonymous The Amulet of Beatrice Walker gleams unnaturally in the moonlight, casting soft green shadows onto the ground. Frantic hands scrabble to climb up the mound of loamy dirt, scattering dust into the air, scattering dust into the thieves’ lungs, scattering coughs into the air—all muted with a signal from the small black cat seated at the foot of the mound.
Keep readingthirst
a short story by Evan Chu, ’24 I’m not fully human anymore after that incident in the mall… Tokyo, 1994 My name is Ishiki Matsui. I killed Yamada Hiroki, my classmate and only friend, but it was just a part of my job. He was my prey, and simply a part of my income. I am an assassin. I don’t feel any sorrow because I am the predator, working for anyone that can pay me enough. I have no dreams, no emotions, just the desire to kill.
Keep readingdiary entry
a short story by Anna McGrew, ’24 December 29th, 2019 Chinese Proverbs, chiiiiineeeeeese proooverbs, chinese prooooooverrrrrbs. Sometimes when you say the same phrase over again it just sounds like hooey. I mean, I am taking US history class to learn about the US, not freaking Chinese Proverbs. Who even cares about Chinese Proverbs; honestly, I don’t like Chinese proverbs and I’m Chinese. Since I’m Chinese everyone expects me to be Mr. straight A’s even though I have straight C’s. My parents are white, I am adopted, and I am pretty sure I’m stupid. Oh, and I’m not athletic whatsoever. I’m…
Keep readingunrecognizable
a short story by Sydney Levitt, ’24 Black. All I saw was black as I lost the feeling in my legs. But then I saw a small light that peered through my opening eyes as the cold, wet grass swayed besides me. It felt like the world was spinning around me until I couldn’t figure out which way was left and which was right. I shut my eyes again to keep myself from vomiting as the dizziness continued to grow. I inhaled deeply and during the exhale, I felt two firm hands grab my arms and squeezed. I gasped and…
Keep readinga painting worth change
a story by Inara Pirani ’19 Letter from Di Alakija to Brooklyn Alakija Wednesday, September 4th 10:35 AM Hi Brooke, How are you? I guess I’m okay. I woke up this morning, made a bowl of oatmeal (now that I live by myself– ha!), then I took the train to work (because I can’t afford a car or a cab). It is now lunchtime and I am checking my Facebook and writing you a letter.
Keep readingthe gold rush stampede
story excerpt by Tristan Martello, ’20 and Russell Hornung, ’20 MICK After Reece regained his health, we set out towards the gold rush. We drove up to an open field in front of the mountain full of gold. The truck wobbled, and pieces broke off, one after another. We slowed to a stop. We saw two lone figures mining on the mountain side. We stuck our heads through what remained of the windows, and looked around. “Wow guys! We get first dibs!” Reece said happily.
Keep readingconsciousness
short story by Kelly Rawson, ’20 She huffs quietly as the comforter rests softly on her head. The irritating, busy street noise of the city buzzed outside her window, despite the fact that it was just a little passed three in the morning. She grunts, frustrated with her uneasy sleep pattern. This was the twenty-sixth night in a row she hadn’t slept before her alarm went off. It was an awful habit she had gotten into. She had diagnosed herself with insomnia earlier on in her life when she would wake up more than five times a night, for no apparent…
Keep readingthe people’s rubble
novel excerpt by Julia Shor, ’20 Chapter 1: Trial by Trust The light was blinding, yet there was no one but him to see it. Why did he bother leaving the interrogation room? If it was possible, the light was even brighter here. As his eyes adjusted he began to truly appreciate the emptiness of the chamber. Unlike the streets, where he could barely move without tripping over a druggie, he had a large space to himself. Rows upon rows of seats lay empty; he almost wished for someone to fill them. Almost was the key word—if they were filled,…
Keep readingon the water cooler
story by Niles Breuer, ’16 His tie was too tight. It was nothing major, of course, nothing debilitating. Just that his wife pulled that extra little fraction of an inch so that his collar pressed into the side of his neck. Or maybe it was the collar itself. She never liked to spend the extra seven dollars on the shirts with the seventeen-and-a-half inch collars, so he always came up half-an-inch too short.
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