Élan is a literary magazine publishing the best writing and art from high school students around the world. This page has all the information you need to submit your writing and art to Élan. Fall/Winter submissions are open! Poetry Poems can be any length and style, but must be single-spaced and in 12-point Times New Roman. Creative Non-Fiction Essays up to 3,000 words may be submitted with excerpt, 1,200 words or under, clearly noted. As with fiction, if a piece is selected and over 1,200 words, the excerpted section is the only portion that will receive publication. Must be 12 point double-spaced Times New Roman. Plays & Screenplays Submit full manuscripts with potential excerpts clearly noted. Pieces over 1,200 words must have a marked excerpt. All excerpted submissions should include the full manuscript with the selected portion clearly marked. If a piece is selected and over 1,200 words, only the excerpted portion will receive publication. We ask that all plays and screenplays be submitted as Word documents. You may use sites such as WriterDuet, Final Draft, Word, or Celtx. However, we ask that you convert your PDF scripts to Word documents. Some sites that are available for you to use are Smallpdf or Simplepdf Convertor. GET NOTIFIED WHEN THEY OPEN We welcome student produced visual art including photography, drawing, painting, ceramics, sculpture, mixed media, and printmaking. All art pieces must be submitted as a jpeg or a png. Please provide a high quality image (at least 300 dpi and 2MB.) We are looking for diverse artwork which seeks to tell a story. Take a look at our recent issues to see the kind of work we are publishing. Art GET NOTIFIED WHEN THEY OPEN Hybrid Hybrid pieces written on a Word document should be submitted under Writing Submissions while pieces containing artwork should be submitted under Art Submissions. "Bloom" by Hannah Botella View More General Guidelines Élan accepts original fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, screenwriting, plays, and art of all mediums from students ages fourteen to eighteen anywhere in the world. We produce two online editions a year, one in the Fall/Winter and another in the Spring/Summer. The two editions are combined into a single p rint edition each s ummer. All writers and artists who have their work chosen for the Fall/Winter or Spring/Summer Edition will be mailed a free copy of the print edition in which their piece appears. Élan holds first serial rights for material that we publish. The copyright automatically reverts to the author upon publication. We will not accept any art or writing pieces that are graphically sexual or gratuitously violent. Minor profanity is acceptable so long as it’s not excessive. We only accept original work. If you submit work that is not your own, we will not publish it. After we have reviewed all submissions, accepted submissions will be sent a confirmation email. This email will confirm the title, spelling of first & last name, along with serial rights (full right to publish and use work for marketing/ social media purposes) from the submitter. Upon being sent this email we give seven calendar days to receive confirmation. All submissions should be sent to elanlitmagazine@gmail.com . All submitters may only send three pieces. Fiction Poetry Creative Nonfiction Plays & Screenplays Art Hybrid Email Submission Guidelines : Writing (Required) The subject of the email should be the writer’s full name and then “Writing Submission.” (For example: Sara Rodgers Writing Submission) In the body of the email, please include the writer's name, age, primary email, school, city, and home address, followed by the titles and the genre (ie, poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, etc.) of each piece being submitted. If applicable, include a sponsoring teacher’s name and email address. Include a professional biography (150 words maximum, in 3rd person). Example: Sara Rodgers is a sophomore at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. They love writing poetry, and riding horses in their free time. Each piece must be attached as a separate WORD DOCUMENT and the file MUST be named the title of the piece. Élan only accepts editable WORD DOCUMENTS at this time. Élan only accepts original work, and fanfictions will not be considered for publication. Do not include your name in the body of the document, as all submissions go through a blind reading process by our staff. Make sure your piece title is included at the top of the document. If you want to submit work to Élan that has been rejected from a previous edition, the piece must have first gone through major revisions or else it will not be considered for publication. Any piece submitted that uses any form of Artificial Intelligence (AI) will not be considered for publication and the submitted will be blacklisted from submitting in the future Douglas Anderson students will submit through the forms posted around campus—not through email. You may not submit more than three pieces in a single submission period. Email Submission Guidelines: Art (Required) The subject of the email should be the artist’s full name and then “Art Submission.” (For example: Sara Rodgers Art Submission) In the body of the email, please include the artist’s name, age, primary email, school, city, and home address, followed by the titles and the medium (ie, oil on canvas, charcoal, photograph, print, etc.) of each piece being submitted. If applicable, include a sponsoring teacher’s name and email address. Include a professional biography (150 words maximum, in 3rd person). Example: Sara Rodgers is a sophomore at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. Their favorite medium to use is acrylic paint, though their watercolor paintings have also won awards. Name each art file “Piece Title (Full Name)”—example, “Water (Sara Rodgers).” The art pieces must be a jpeg or png file. Submit the highest resolution quality format that can be sent as an attachment – 300 dpi or higher, and at least 2 MB. If your art does not meet the dpi requirement, there is no guarantee your art can be published. Ensure that the photo of your art is clear and taken from a straight angle so that all aspects of the piece are visible with minimal glare. Élan only accepts original work, and fan art will not be considered for publication. If you want to submit work to Élan that has been rejected from a previous edition, the piece must have first gone through major revisions or else it will not be considered for publication. Any piece submitted that uses any form of Artificial Intelligence (AI) will not be considered for publication and the submitted will be blacklisted from submitting in the future Douglas Anderson students will submit through the forms posted around campus—not through email. You may not submit more than three pieces in a single submission period. Fiction Poetry Creative Nonfiction Plays & Screenplays Art Fiction Micro-fiction, short-stories and excerpts of larger stories up to 5,000 words are acceptable. Pieces over 1,200 words must have a marked excerpt. All excerpted submissions should include the full manuscript with selected portion clearly marked. If a piece is selected and over 1,200 words, only the excerpted portion will receive publication. Must be 12 point double-spaced Times New Roman.

Élan is a literary magazine publishing the best writing and art from high school students around the world. Banner SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN! Fall/Winter Submissions Close October 1st Submit Recent Issues SEE MORE Anchor 1 Spring/Summer 2026 Fall/Winter 2025 Volume 39

Read Past Winners 2024 Resilience Arianna Shaprow Read More 2021 2019 2020 I’m Safe Now. I Think. Mercedes Schwartz Read More 2021 2019 2020 Another Day in the Sanctuary Declan Koe Read More 2021 2019 2020 Synesthetia Anoushka Dugar Read More 2021 2019 2020 Patient Flowers Khloe Klopfer Read More 2021 2019 2020 Syrup Ty'ana Pope Read More 2021 2019 2020 The Burning Light of the Clock Jamari Weaver Read More 2021 2019 2020 Barbarous Verdure Kalliope Gonos Read More 2021 2019 2020 No Fresh Air Ana Rosenthal Read More 2021 2019 2020 Our Cafeteria Dimitria Banov Russo Read More 2021 2019 2020 The Blue and Yellow Lila Hartley Read More 2021 2019 2020 Oblivion Greta Reis Read More 2021 2019 2020 We Still Have a Heart in Ourselves Indie Pascal Read More 2021 2019 2020 We Just Want to be Loved Riayn Smith Read More 2021 2019 2020 Blank Page Cecelia Richardson Read More 2021 2019 2020 How Lucky we Are Meredith Anglin Read More 2021 2019 2020 Dear Linh Kate Kim Read More 2021 2019 2020 on your name Cloris Shi Read More 2021 2019 2020 Untitled John Walker Read More 2021 2019 2020 The Roaring Himalayas Rehan Sheikh Read More 2021 2019 2020 Questions of Youth Erion P. Sanders Read More 2021 2019 2020 Grief Janna Tannous Read More 2021 2019 2020 Becoming One Amelia Elder Read More 2021 2019 2020 Toby Georgia Witt Read More 2021 2019 2020 The Castle Isabella Bolger Read More 2021 2019 2020 The Curious Murder of Lilliane Baldwin Hannah G. Klenck Read More 2021 2019 2020 Fading Marlo Herndon Read More 2021 2019 2020 2023 2022 2021 2020 2019

MIDDLE SCHOOL ART AND WRITING CONTEST 2025 WINNERS Élan celebrates the work of students between 6th and 8th grades in our annual Middle School Art and Writing Contest. FIRST PLACE SECOND PLACE THIRD PLACE First Place Biblical Angel by Isaac Anderson Resilience's Dark Embrace by Annie Lin I cried out loud to the soundless void, Yet no one heard my trembling plight. Alone I wait, in inevitable despair In the chill of solitude, she cherished my soul. Through life's obscured passages, whispers of dream linger, Where resilience hides occult, a quiet force— Hand in hand with sorrow, yet unseen, An esoteric support in daily exertion, its course She comforted me; I searched blindly for her. Blindly— Blindly— Blindy, taking my step to my cessation. In the heart's hidden depths adumbrate, Each hardship enriches intricacy, crafting beauty, Serene harmony within life's chaos unfurls, The grand fresco of life, sculpted by resilience's inner essence The world spins on, unheeding my tears, A heart aching with unspoken fears. I seek the light, the one she provides. Now, I watch the fading of my dreams Harmony of life’s chaos, struggle and endurance, Silent guardian, shielding the heart's resilience, Dual nature, the ability to empower while exhausting the spirit, A story of survival and pain, a burden to the weary soul She left me; I wanted to die. Die— Die— Die, lifeless in this perishable land. A hidden strength, a quiet force in the night, Hurt the heart, darken the soul's light, No light left in the eye, where shadow dawdles, Only darkness, forever, amidst life's tumultuous storm. Alone, I feel so hysterical I feel so delusional, I always thought I was insusceptible to the world But she is trying to annihilate me, so damn slowly She does not sincerely love me, All upright lies, my eternal craving. About the Writer... Annie Lin is a 7th grader at Julia Landon College Preparatory and Leadership Development School. They enjoy every moment that involves music, from concerts to bus rides. They love dramatic performance and expressing their ideal aspects in each act. They mix different forms of art into poems, adding a personal touch into each piece of art, poetry or just a simple doodle. About the Artist... Isaac Anderson is a 6th grade scholar at Matthew W. Gilbert Middle School, who became interested in art at nine years old when he received his first sketchbook. From there, his talent sharpened and his interest in art increased. Second Place Yearning by Alana Rihaly Yesterday I Could Fly by Coleson Roth High in the sweet savory clouds The birds at my batting wings Soaring through the silver sky Yesterday I could fly The rumbling of the salty ocean So far beneath my claws The breeze, blowing me dry Yesterday I could fly My roar like lightning command Sending ripples through the air Seagulls rattle in fear of my mighty eye Yesterday I could fly About the Writer... Coleson Roth is a Creative Writing major at LaVilla School of the Arts, currently making his way through seventh grade. Coleson focuses mostly on poetry and sometimes fiction works. Although Coleson does not like to write fiction as much as poetry, the opposite is the truth for reading, he loves reading fiction books that capture his mind so much he cannot pull away. About the Artist Alana Rihaly is a talented mixed-media artist. She's created original pieces since she was seven years old with the unconditional love and support of her mother and aunt. Art has often been a vehicle of her emotional expression. Third Place Hope to Making it Far 1 by Lashunda Patterson Poppies by Heidi Le Kindergarten. Practically a warzone, except the only thing we were fighting over was who got what colored carpet square. Every day was as monotonous as a broken record and filled with grubby little fingers taking all of my sparkly crayons. I desperately wanted something new and fun to happen, and, as a kindergartener, I just wanted to be taken to a magical world where I could do nothing and not have to learn math. Unfortunately, the daydreams never came true, until one day, something sparked. In the playground. In the big, old, mystical, magical-looking oak tree, a door suddenly appeared. It was dark brown, almost to the point of blending into the tree, a wooden door that you could only fit in if you crawled. It was a portal to another realm that only my brain could have conjured. I opened the door and was met with wet grass and a tunnel composed of broken, gnarled branches. They cut my legs as I crawled deeper and deeper into the seemingly never-ending tunnel. At last, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, a beacon of hope that beckoned me closer and closer. I touched the tingly light and immediately fell. I fell for what felt like ages, and I spiraled down and down as tiny voices whispered in my ears all the things I wished someone would tell me. I fell until the light started to fade and was replaced with bright blue skies. Underneath me was a carpet of bright red poppies as far as I could see, and in the near distance, a brook. I walked over to it and leaned my head over the sparkling water. I looked at my reflection, but instead of just me, I saw one more face staring back. She looked like me. A stronger, older, prettier version of me, and she smiled. It was a soft smile. Not the kind someone uses to comfort you, but the kind like they understand you. She smiled again and spoke this time. “Not yet. There’s still more time.” The reflection started to fade, and I desperately tried to save it. “When will I be able to come back?” I whispered to the water and was met with nothing. I stood, gathered myself, and turned. “Adira? Are you okay?” Someone called out. I sat up and blinked rapidly at the faces above me. “What?” “You tripped.” Someone said, but I wasn’t listening to them anymore. I was looking at the tree. Where the magical door once sat, there was just rough bark in place. I looked down at the sandy dirt and saw something sparkling. Buried in the sand, I picked it up, dusted it off and saw bright red, the same shade as the poppies: a bright red, sparkly crayon. Hope to Making it Far 2 by Lashunda Patterson About the Writer... Heidi Le is an 8th grade student at James Weldon Johnson College Preparatory. She loves to write stories and poetry. She can usually be found reading or writing notes for a book. In her free time, she enjoys archery and playing guitar, as well as dreaming. About the Artist... Lashunda Patterson is a 7th grade student at Matthew Gilbert Middle School. She creates cartoon characters with the hopes of bringing joy and inspiration to others. View Previous Winners

Spring/Summer 2022 Cover Art by: Vera Baffour Table of Contents Writing Art Editor's Note 0 Blair Bowers and Brendan Nurczyk The creased polaroid my grandmother keeps in her wallet 7:30AM 1 Kota Locklear England Townsend I Left my Heart in the Knot of a Weeping Willow Tree Off 2 Peyton Pitts Jadalyn Gubat The Willful Pisgah 3 Nayra McMahan Audrey Lendvay my childhood friends 4 Raymond Chen For Medusa El Tiburón 5 Mia Parola Natalie Holden motherland My Inner Brewing Conflicts 6 Evangelina Ariana Thornton Alana Guifarro Mountaintop Soho 7 Itay Frenkel Ivory Funari My mother's letters to my father. Dreamscape Randos 8 Chloe Pancho Vera Baffour Innocent Until Educated 9 England Townsend Deep in Georgia Blackout 10 Autumn Hill Micayla Latson Doll Dancer 11 Zarria Belizaire Reagan Hoogesteger Recursions Wasting Time 12 Nolan Lee Elizaveta Kalacheva The Last Rite LORD BABA (GOLDEN PRIDE) 13 Giovani Jacques Taylor Ekern Anthem Silhouette 14 Brendan Nurczyk Lan Turner Iridescence for the Soul Lucky Numbers 15 Hallie Xu Christopher Thomas My Body, the Sea/Mi Cuerpo, el Mar The Gain and Loss in Transformation 16 Raquel Silberman Alyssa Giraud icarus & her lover A Challenge Approaches 17 Eva Chen Alyssa Giraud Midnight Skin Ave Maria 18 Alexander Sayette Vera Baffour Oliver A Mother's Love 19 Esmé DeVries Chloe Robertson An Evening to Remember 20 Audrey Lendvay Aschnakä 21 Niveah Glover A Tribute to Mitski’s “Class of 2013” Tangled in Transformation 22 Hollis Ackiss Camille Faustino the girl in the pool has all her clothes on I Sea Trash 23 Ali Ximines Christian Silva The Orange Tree Across the Street Groceries 24 Sarah Ermold Camille Faustino The Bird dovetail 25 Blair Bowers Sachiko Rivamoute Between the Eyes Commensalism 26 Maeve Coughlin Arabella Riefler Firstborn Late 27 Satori McCormick Jadalyn Gubat Who's Point of View 28 Solara Cotton to she who fights the snow Afternoon Painting 29 Sarah Sun Zoe Turner Rose-Colored Glasses Blooming Petals 30 Mackenzie Rud Bria Mcclary the summer you learned to bike Marine Karma 31 Eva Chen Grace Kim Spring/Summer 2022 Staff Blair Bowers Brendan Nurczyk Zarria Belizaire Nia Moneyhun Parker Sheppard Lanina Herndon Anna Smith Nayra McMahan Bonny Bruzos Sage Whitecotton Kaysyn Jones Leila Warner Editor-in-Chief Junior Editor-in-Chief Poetry Editor Prose Editor Art Director Junior Art Director Associate Art Director Managing Editor Junior Managing Editor Social Marketing Editor Associate Marketing Editor Associate Marketing Editor

Élan's Spring/Summer 2021 Issue is up and ready to read. Featuring talented teenage artists and writers from all over the world. Spring/Summer 2021 Cover Art: Entrapment by Jillian Atwood TABLE OF CONTENTS Table of Contents Table of Contents Writing Visual Art Editor's Note Button Editor's Note Zoe Lathey & Blair Bowers Connect to "TOC Title" Zoe Lathey & Blair Bowers Read Language, Button Language, Summer Carrier Connect to "TOC Title" Summer Carrier Read Salmon Contortionist Button Salmon Contortionist Sophia Rose Smith Rowan Blankemeyer Connect to "TOC Title" Sophia Rose Smith Rowan Blankemeyer Read My Mother's Spirits Mother and Child Button My Mother's Spirits Mother and Child Tuesday Locklear Emily Nguyen Connect to "TOC Title" Tuesday Locklear Emily Nguyen Read Braids Abyss of Gold Button Braids Abyss of Gold Mackenzie Shaner Joshua Hein Connect to "TOC Title" Mackenzie Shaner Joshua Hein Read Poemgranate Brazen Button Poemgranate Brazen Autumn Hill Hasina Lilley Connect to "TOC Title" Autumn Hill Hasina Lilley Read Truth in Bitterness... Twirler/Biter/Picker Triptych Button Truth in Bitterness... Twirler/Biter/Picker Triptych Josselyn Ortiz Rachel Brown Connect to "TOC Title" Josselyn Ortiz Rachel Brown Read Nomos (The Law) Button Nomos (The Law) Ninah Gibson Connect to "TOC Title" Ninah Gibson Read Animals and Social Trash Clawing at My Dread Button Animals and Social Trash Clawing at My Dread Kevin Kraft Joshua Luke Rogers Connect to "TOC Title" Kevin Kraft Joshua Luke Rogers Read Toxic Lover Boy Button Toxic Lover Boy Emily Khym Isaac Riley Connect to "TOC Title" Emily Khym Isaac Riley Read Microaggressions Inner Truth Button Microaggressions Inner Truth Trinity Jones Trinity Cohen Connect to "TOC Title" Trinity Jones Trinity Cohen Read Depth to my Body Sorrowful Reflection Button Depth to my Body Sorrowful Reflection Mia Parola Hasina Lilley Connect to "TOC Title" Mia Parola Hasina Lilley Read Jesus in a Tie Dye Shirt Word Vomit Button Jesus in a Tie Dye Shirt Word Vomit Skye O'Toole Isabela Mendez Connect to "TOC Title" Skye O'Toole Isabela Mendez Read We Stopped for Daily's Mirage and Menagerie Button We Stopped for Daily's Mirage and Menagerie Blair Bowers Rowan Blankemeyer Connect to "TOC Title" Blair Bowers Rowan Blankemeyer Read Handcrafting a Predictable... The Peace of Pre-Quarantine Button Handcrafting a Predictable... The Peace of Pre-Quarantine Anthony Bernando Kyra Lai Connect to "TOC Title" Anthony Bernando Kyra Lai Read Hilltop Timekeeper Trip to Nowhere Button Hilltop Timekeeper Trip to Nowhere Toko Hata Zhanna Marzan Connect to "TOC Title" Toko Hata Zhanna Marzan Read The Shepherd Button The Shepherd Rachel Brown Connect to "TOC Title" Rachel Brown Read Guardians In Theory Button Guardians In Theory Sarah Ermold Julienne Masopust Connect to "TOC Title" Sarah Ermold Julienne Masopust Read Black Walnut Dead to the World Button Black Walnut Dead to the World Eli Mears Jillian Atwood Connect to "TOC Title" Eli Mears Jillian Atwood Read Pray Imitation Smile Button Pray Imitation Smile Christine Xu Hasina Lilley Connect to "TOC Title" Christine Xu Hasina Lilley Read The Fish False Prophet Button The Fish False Prophet Kaysyn Jones Vera Caldwell Connect to "TOC Title" Kaysyn Jones Vera Caldwell Read Spring/Summer 2021 Staff Zoe Lathey Blair Bowers Hannah Bardhi Sheldon White Blake Molenaar Parker Sheppard La'Mirakle Price Nayra McMahan Sage Whitecotton Arry Pender Editor-in-Chief Junior Editor-in-Chief Poetry Editor Prose Editor Art Director Junior Art Director Managing Editor Junior Managing Editor Social Media Editor Associate Editor

Fall/Winter 2024 Cover art: "Just a Little Laundry" by Ruby Wirth Table of Contents Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Editors' Note 󠀠 View Avery Grossman, Jaslyn Dickerson, Jamie Lohse & Jupiter Hayes Small Title 󠀠 Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Dedication 󠀠 View Élan Staff Small Title 󠀠 Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Two Beautiful Things, Entangled at the Joints Angelic Reflection View Cherry Cheesman Small Title Krislyn Fraser Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button I'm Refolding Foreboding View Gustave Rish Small Title Kierra Reese Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button The Effects of Seasonal Changes on Floridian Coastal Wildlife Florida Girl View Scooter Wirth Small Title Hailey Edwards Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button 󠀠 Just a Little Laundry View 󠀠 Small Title Ruby Wirth Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Translated and Transferred Bino View Natalie Cappelletti Small Title Tatiana Arroyave Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button An Open Door The Minkin Kitchen View Lila Hartley Small Title Hana Minkin Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button New Orleans Nights Bright Adventures Ahead View Zoë Forstall Small Title Abigail Cashwell Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button tracing Canis Major on a cloudy night A Girl's Universe View James Helmick Small Title Autumn King Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Papa On The Way Home View Olivia Sheftall Small Title Zoe Wagner Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button As I Go to the Sea For Glory! View Hanzhen Teng Small Title Raiti Namiranian Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Worship/War Inocencia View Su Thar Nyein Small Title Ian Castro Soto Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button His Mother's Cries Incandescent View Anai Harris Small Title Daysha Perez Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button Saltwater Escape View Nico De Guzman Small Title Elizaveta Kalacheva Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button We Desire Anything but Peace Don't Let This Darkness Fool You View Chao Small Title Jenna Williams Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button crepuscular, a portrait of matrilineal scoliosis 󠀠 View Ariel Wu Small Title 󠀠 Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button 󠀠 Unprepared View 󠀠 Small Title Shanwill Wang Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button A Lesson on Teenage Girlhood Hurt Mother View Oona Keleher Small Title Colson Gomez Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC Art Title" Button November's Cardinal Granny Girl View Emerson Flanagan Small Title Ji'niyah Alexander Small Title Small Title Connect to "TOC Title" Connect to "TOC AUTHOR" Connect to "TOC ARTIST"

6b5b6bc7-3542-4110-9115-40f80c1497a1 Groceries by Camille Faustino The Orange Tree Across the Street by Sarah Ermold It wasn’t trespassing, Because the house was for sale And the orange tree in the back yard was public property. Grandma promised it was safe and held my hand when we crossed the street, Because I was still in elementary school and didn’t know better. I gripped a Longaberger basket soaked in stress and Florida humidity, And picked the rotting fruit hanging from the shortest branches. Watched the fruit flies at my feet scream in excitement, As they invade the soft veil of the peel encrusted in a silky brown slime. Their weak bodies drowning in the bitterness Of the perished organs decomposing in ant piles and feral grass. I reached to pick it up, and Grandma slapped my hand. She wiped my hands on my shorts and told me The best oranges hang from the tree. Grandma squeezed my hand before we stepped onto the pavement, And walked the thirty feet back to the house. I sat in the chairs that lined Grandma’s kitchen table, As she lathered the forbidden fruit in the water that leaked from her faucet. She sat a napkin in front of me, heavy with the slobber of a freshly polished orange. I held the meat of the orange like rotting flesh on my tongue. She watched me as we ate the oranges together, With each bite, the pith slide between my front teeth like dental floss And the pulp bled from the corners of her mouth, I used the lung shape of the orange’s body to put on a smile. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, because they were the best oranges she ever had. When she offered me another, I told her I was full. And when we were finished, I told her they were the best oranges I ever had. When my mom came to get me, Grandma begged me to take them home. Shoved them in the used Publix bags from under the sink. Her hands coated in orange saliva and my bitter lie, She made sure to put them in the car so I wouldn’t forget them. Grandma buckled me and the oranges into the car seat, As she told mom of our day, elbowing me to tell mom, These were the best oranges I ever had. Return to Table of Contents

6 < Table of Contents Vibrant Death by Andie Crawford Who Were You, and Who May I Become? by Alyse Gammons " Will I someday leave behind / a fossil of fondness that is so enchantingly echoed / across the offerings to my resting soul?" Like a ghost, lurks the day that I may finally think of you fondly. Standing comfortably side by side to your ofrenda, I think to myself how, besides these reasons why, do I begin to comprehend someone who I have never met? Aimlessly I listen to ancestors alliterate the altruism you so graciously left behind… and yet what is this to me? Will I someday leave behind a fossil of fondness that is so enchantingly echoed across the offerings to my resting soul? Spilling whispers of contentment and memories of life and legacy to the garden of marigolds that have but a chokehold on the square as they bloom around the tombs. Diligently dancing to the sound of celebration, their petals lifting up and down to the beat of the death they represent. A resting, yet radiating, heartbeat. Although I do not know you, I bake this bread to give you pieces of the earth you left behind. Although I do not know you, I burn this incense to represent your passing. Although I do not know you, I stare attentively at this framed photo: eyes that offer a gentleness, hands that once cared tenderly for the familia I gather with today. And although, I did not get as lucky as my cousins to truly know you, I will light this candle to guide you back towards us in hopes that someday you will take my hand as tenderly as you took my mama’s and her mama’s before that, and guide me to the place you now rest. Maybe then, year after year of celebration in your life’s honor, may I one day know you as well as I know your face in this one still framed picture resting against your ofrenda. About the Writer... Alyse Gammons is a student at Lehigh Valley Charter High School for the Arts in their junior year who enjoys writing poetry, drawing in their free time, and learning about the sciences. They plan to pursue a career in the sciences and/or in English. Once they can find a steady job in their field, they plan to continue writing in hopes of being a self-published author in poetry and someday fiction. In school, they are a part of the National Honor Society, are awaiting their acceptance letter from the Spanish National Honors Society, and represent at Literary Arts Cafe the Lodge Events as 2025’s co-chair. When not writing or in school, they participate in the Kutztown Area High School’s Marching Band as a majorette, and during the fall are a member of the Kutztown Area Indoor Associations Twirling Team. About the Artist... Andie Crawford is a Senior at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. She specializes in drawing and painting.

What Happened to Us by Dion Hines How to: make it to room 404 by Chloe Pancho Step #1 . Say hello to the man at the counter. He says hello back and tells you to say hello to your mother for him as well. You promise that you will. Get your temperature taken beside the front door. You didn’t know how to use the machine the first time you came in contact with it. You stood as close to it as you possibly could, thinking that was the only way for it to check your temperature properly. He was the one to correct you and say that there was no need to get so close. A full twelve inches in front was ideal. You laughed and thanked him and now you look forward to your quick greetings. “Don’t forget to say hello to any of the staff or any other breathing person that exits out of the elevators, assume they crave just as much comfort as you do.” Step #2 . Make your way towards the hallway on his right and onto your left. Walk past a water fountain and a gender-neutral bathroom until you ultimately reach the elevators. Press the button to ascend towards the higher floors and wait until one of them opens for you. Don’t forget to say hello to any of the staff or any other breathing person that exits out of the elevators, assume they crave just as much comfort as you do. Once inside the elevator, press the button etched with the number 4 and make your way towards the ER where Mama is most likely to be sleeping. Step #3 . Introduce yourself once again. (Note: The ER is separated from the rest of the hospital by two heavy-set metal doors. On the wall is a white intercom in which each individual must push to announce their presence and reason why they would like to enter the ER.) Reiterate your first and last name, as unlike the man at the front, you are never fully able to recognize the voice that is on the other side. Tell the face-less figure that you are here to visit your mother. They request for your mother’s name and ask you to wait as they confirm that the patient knows of your existence. Step #3 .5. You imagine a life in which her accident never happened. Step #4 . Listen to the unfamiliar voice as it announces that you are permitted to see your own mother. They instruct you to stand back as they open the doors, but before the sentence is finished, take three steps back as you are used to these procedures. The first sight you encounter once you enter the ER is an empty gurney stationed in front of the first room. You remember it as the room for the unconscious woman. The woman looked the same age as your mother, dark hair just like your mother as well, you don’t know how to describe her eyes as you have never actually seen them open. You expect to see her today, but yet she is not there. Her room is completely empty. The bed wiped of its sheets, the curtains drawn dark. You want to ask one of the nurses what happened to her, ifshe is okay. But you do not. Step #5 . Smile. You finally make it to your mother’s room. Your father is inside along with your mother's registered nurse. They both say hello to you as they adjust the tube that is going to be feeding your mother lunch today. Keep smiling. Your father leaves your mother in the nurses’ care as he comes over to hug you. He asks you if you are okay and how school was today. Smile at him and tell him that everything is okay. Your mother finishes her lunch a little after you and your father are done conversing. The nurse reassures the two other conscious people in the small room that your mothers vitals are finally starting to look better. She soon leaves the three of you alone. Look at your mother. There are wires and multi-colored lines wrapping around her body, all with their specific use and purpose to keep your mother here. It is then when you notice truly how much weight your mother has lost. She has always been a small woman. Standing at a mere 5’2 most of her life, she looks even smaller now, frail, fragile almost. Her eyes are sunken in, hands slender to the point of concern. She looks almost dead. “The man at the front told me to say hello to you,” you tell her. Massage her forearms as you remember Papa telling you they were bothering her during your last visit. She doesn’t respond. You didn’t expect her too. Step #6 . Close your eyes. Papa’s lap will act like a pillow for you tonight. The denim of his jeans scratch the side of your cheek, and his thighs are bony like chopsticks, but you will cling onto any form of familiarity life is willing give to you. Listen to the local news playing on the hospital TV along with the constant buzz of the heart monitor sitting beside your mother’s bed, telling you that it is okay to go to sleep, that your mother will still be right there, in her bed, when you wake up.

Synesthetia Anoushka Dugar The little girl couldn’t see. The Sun had shut her eyelids, So she couldn’t look at the stars The Sun was a vain creature. The little girl wanted to see color So she walked across the cobblestone streets Hissed at the fiery star in the sky As breaths dribbled out of her mouth trickling down her chin Why have you closed my eyes? (The Sun was too busy talking to the Moon.) She waited, to silence. The little girl glided across shattered glass of lost voices Paused to look into a small pond There was a fish with one eye who smiled You want to see color I heard, The little girl nodded Orange, hold orange in your hand And let its warmth travel into your veins Until your whole body is filled with this light Hear it. Strum like a guitar Slicing through your breath. The little girl ran across a grassy knoll. Return to Piece Selection

Jesus in a Tie Dye Shirt Skye O'Toole Word Vomit Isabela Mendez When I was young, I lived in a new development in Denver. The trees were only saplings then, and had to be held up by wire and wooden posts. A few blocks down, there was an empty lot, riddled with prairie dog holes and leftover metal from some forgotten skeleton of a building. In the center sat a teal minivan, its wheels long deflated, painted with all sorts of colors and images our little minds couldn’t understand. A small garden grew around it, groves of dandelions and clovers and five-pointed green leaves we didn’t know what to call. There was no fence, but a collection of odd items served to corral them; an overgrown watering can, a wooden cross, a homemade McGovern ‘72 sign. We would go there every Saturday, and chase each other around the van, careful not to trip in the prairie dog holes. When we fell to the ground, we were caressed by the sun’s rays and our little bodies shook with relentless giggles. We got dirty, but it was fun, and the soil was warm and the air clean, and our lives so innocent and full of potential that we didn’t mind that our clothes were soiled, though our mothers did. — "He would show us how to make wishes as we blew on dandelions, never losing patience when we struggled." — Mr. Scott lived in the teal van. Every Sunday morning, he would be awakened by our giddy cries, and he would walk out into the sun and laugh as we somersaulted and cartwheeled and threw clumps of dirt at each other. If one of us skinned our knee, he would be the first at our side, armed with some homemade medicinal rub. My parents didn’t mind; their lives were busy enough with three jobs and four kids and an angry grandmother who lived in the basement. When we were deflated from running and laughing, and fully coated in dirt and sand, Mr. Scott would beckon us over to his garden. He would show us how to make wishes as we blew on dandelions, never losing patience when we struggled. Then he would do it himself, and point as the seeds were carried by the wind into the ether. When we asked him what he wished for, he told us he wished for world peace, and that he wanted everyone to come together and be friends. When I told him that sounded boring, and that I wished for a horse, he chuckled and patted my shoulder, telling me that soon enough I would understand. When it got cold, he invited us into his van. It was cramped, and you couldn’t see the walls, as they were blanketed in trinkets of all kinds. But it felt like home. A guitar hung from the wall, and when I asked Mr. Scott to teach me how to play it, he guided my fingers through some chords, humming along to the abomination I made. Even though I sounded terrible, he never gave up on me, and when I got sad he would take the instrument and play a little tune and said that soon enough I would play it, too. All around the van there were crosses, except they were painted rainbow and Jesus was smiling. When I asked him why Jesus was colorful, he told me it’s because he prayed to a Jesus in a tie dye shirt, one who believed in peace and love and good children, just like me. I told him that the colorful Jesus was prettier than the Jesus at my church, who was sad and made out of bronze. He smiled and told me that Jesus was a happy person, recounting stories of him loving the poor and orphaned. I smiled back, and told him that he was a happy person, just like Jesus. But we soon grew out of tag in the garden, and no longer wanted to be covered in dirt for Saturday dinner. Still, Mr. Scott stayed in our hearts. Sometimes, when I walked near the lot, I could hear him play a sad song, where the guitar wept. Despite what he said, I would never learn how to play it. I watched as his beard became gray, and his van overgrown. The big developers grew interested in the lot. I was expecting it, though I still cried when I saw a police car whir by me. I chased it down five blocks. The cops were there, leading Mr. Scott off the lot. His van was already gone. He smiled at me and mouthed something. I never said anything back. Now the trees are large and block out the sun. Mr. Scott’s van is scrap metal, and the lot has been converted into luxury apartments, big gray ugly things. Sometimes I walk around them, trying to imagine a carefree seven year old jumping and laughing and covered in dirt. There’s a man by her, one who is always happy and loves good children. Every so often I’ll stand where the van used to be, and pray to Jesus in a tie dye shirt that Mr. Scott is still laughing, somewhere. Return to Table of Contents