“Pieces of Me” unfolds as a series of letters from a soldier to different family members, offering glimpses into the emotional toll of war. It moves through themes of suffering, guilt, love, and redemption.
Pieces Of Me
Contemplative
ImaginEater
In a futuristic society, ImaginEater is a gadget that conjures food for people to consume without adverse health impacts, but Quasara discovers that unanticipated uses of ImaginEater can have serious repercussions.
102, 103, 104, 105 Word Stories
Here, you’ll find four flash fiction pieces that highlight moments of loss, love, and joy, written over the course of the past year. Short pieces to remind us that we’re all human
Only the Beginning
Reflections on the world around me.
Grew Through Jazz
This piece shares the story of a young woman who was influenced heavily by jazz throughout her life and details her understanding of jazz through a Black perspective
Weeping Wisteria
All will wither eventually; enjoy it while it lasts instead.
rain
The thoughts of a student on a rainy day.
Young Mourning
A young person’s feeling while aging.
Always a Bird to Me
In this whimsical and melancholic poem, sisterhood and coming of age are illustrated in the metaphor of flight.
Bus Stop
An excerpt of a normal NYC commute that explores the riders’ histories through their transient time on the bus.
Harvest Season
Harvest Season is a contrapuntal poem that embodies the essence of yearning, meant to be read from left to right descending, or separately.
I’m Not Angry, I’m African
This is inspired by one of my best friends Jayda and our conversation on the stairwell about our anger.
Rin, Haru, and Umi
This piece was selected as an Honorable Mention in the First Chapters Contest, hosted in partnership with Penguin Random House and Electric Lit.
A boy who plays violin is nudged out of his shell.
Offline
Told in a series of chat conversations, “Offline” tells the story of a writer who, fed up with his technology-assisted world, turns to the one thing he’s tried so hard to avoid: AI.
embracing womanhood
Dismissing missed periods became a habit, until fear, not maturity, forced me to listen to my body’s silent cries.