wellesley high school's literary & arts magazine

diary 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 a failure. I can’t do anything by myself without messing it up. So many things are expected of me at school: straight A’s, natural athleticism, and being cool and collected. And I can’t do any of it. People call me fake China at least 10 times a day. I ‘m 16 and I don’t even know what I want to do with my stupid meaningless life. Continue reading “diary entry”

at last

a poem by Clara Renner, ’24

Stepping into the warm sun.
My feet warmed by the soft sand beneath them.
The light wind blowing my long hair.
My sunglasses shading my eyes from the bright sunlight.
The smell of the salty ocean and fresh cinnamon churros on the pier.
My feet washed by the waves of the pleasantly warm crisp blue ocean.
The green palm tree’s leaves gently swaying in the calm wind.
Jumping into the refreshing pool with my brother.
Slowly melting in the toasty hot tub.
Going out for delectable ice cream after an event filled day with my family.
Being in California.
At last.

the mended heart

a metals piece by Jana Chan, ’22

JC Heart 3

my stomps

a poem by Dilen Marra, ’22

I stomp down the path
I watch other people tiptoe down the path
They look like swans swimming down the river that I once fished at
I move with them
We are salmon swimming up the stream of life
I’ve been stomping for an eternity
For if you stomp down the path, one day feels like an eternity Continue reading “my stomps”

you are a lie

a poem by Dilen Marra, ’22

Trust me, I know a lot about lies
And you are a lie
You are the voice in the back of my mind
The voice that tells me that I will see the sun, the candle, and the fireflies
But, what lives inside of me can tell you otherwise Continue reading “you are a lie”


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 opened my eyes instantly. A woman with black hair pulled into a bun stared into my eyes as her torn sweater slowly drifted off her shoulder. Her cold and emotionless eyes stared into mine. Did she take me here? Continue reading “unrecognizable”

toilet days ™

a short story by Libertad Vaughn, ’24

The door locks shut as the giant mass moves towards me. It comes closer, and corners me into the wall next to my friend that is forced to weep with a turn of a handle. Unable to move away, I see the crack that splits the monster in half come hurdling after me. I would have run away if those things hadn’t bolted me to the wall and trapped me in this white room. Continue reading “toilet days ™”

the trapdoor

a short story by Lila Malek, ’24

It was one of those nights again. You know, those nights. When your parents have company over and your mission is for them to forget about your existence. My large four story, antique filled Victorian house is in a quiet town in Maryland. The town isn’t the only quiet thing here. I live alone with my dad in our unnecessarily large house. Besides the occasional check in from one of the cleaning ladies, I’ve kept myself in isolation from my father, your average CEO of a law firm, middle aged money man. I was in the middle of hiding in my room, watching Netflix and attempting to focus on homework, when my stomach growled, a well known plea for food. Continue reading “the trapdoor”

the scarecrow

a short story by Lily Jin, ’24

That frosty autumn night, a cold wind carried a lone soft whisper. The young lad was taking a stroll when he looked up, only seeing a smiling face of a straw scarecrow gently swaying in the wind. He scratched his head in confusion, swearing that he heard a faint voice. But as he walked past, the scarecrow’s button eyes followed his every move. Continue reading “the scarecrow”

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