Excerpt from “Billbergia”
By Eva Lang

Creak, rattle, clang. Catriona Glynn was on the D train going to school, just past Broadway-Lafayette. She glanced around at the other people on the subway car. There was a woman with bright green hair and earrings that looked like corkscrews, a man in a vivid red knitted stocking cap, and right in front of her were two people discussing their plans to collect acorns and use them to make a cake for Christmas. Catriona really should’ve been studying. She had a history test first period, a trigonometry quiz after that, and a German quiz last period. She pulled out her notebook and, balancing it on her copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, began to search for the correct history notes when suddenly, the subway lurched forward, then stopped. 

Catriona sighed. She would be late, but at least she would have time to study. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her headphones and began to listen to the music from Sweeney Todd while she read about the Cold War. After about ten minutes, however, Catriona began to get nervous. She was going to be really late. She looked around, and realized that the lights had started flickering. On. Off. On. Off. Catriona hoped that there wasn’t a blackout coming. At least delays were fairly usual, but she wouldn’t know what to do if the electricity went out completely. Worriedly, she took out her headphones and hugged her novel closer to her chest. On. Off. On. Off. Catriona was beginning to feel like something was going to happen, whether it would be good or bad she couldn’t tell. On. Off. On. Off. Then, the lights didn’t turn on again. It was only 8 am, but her day couldn’t get any worse. 

A terrible creaking began in the car, and Catriona sighed, wondering whether she might have to use her novel as self-defense against the army of rats or thieves that was certainly charging across the roof of the train. Looking toward the back of the car, she noticed a pinprick of light appear and begin to grow. Not 5 seconds later, a swirling vortex of light was hovering in the air at the end of the D train. Catriona looked around, but no one else seemed to notice it. Their eyes were all glued to their phones, their ears were all blocked by airpods (terrible things, she couldn’t comprehend how the subway tracks weren’t littered with them, given the amount of times she had seen them fall out of peoples’ ears). 

A man stepped out of the vortex. He had a head covered in fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes, rather like Catriona’s own, and wore a white shirt, a green and gold waistcoat, and brown wool pants. He took a pocket watch out of his waistcoat, and, examining it, muttered in a strong Welsh accent, ‘I really must get a sturdier watch. This one doesn’t hold up to inter-dimensional travel at all.’ Catriona gaped at him. The man, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, looked around. ‘All these humans,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand what’s so brilliant about those small, hand-held devices! Can you eat them? No. Can you fight with them? No. Can you read them? No, you can’t.’ Suddenly, he noticed Catriona. ‘Ah, there!’ he announced more loudly. He walked over to her and said ‘Good morning. I am Daveth Cadwallader, q.m., t.s., i.l. I have been sent here to invite you to come study at the Billbergian School of Interdimensional Magic, Science, and Exploration. Classes begin in a week, but I’m afraid you will have to come with me if you wish to join us, given the complicated arrangements involved in transferring earth-students.’ 

Now, Catriona was terribly suspicious of this man, and she didn’t think her parents would approve, but this sounded more interesting than her history test, so she sent her mother a text saying ‘Going to Billbergian School of Interdimensional Magic, Science, and Exploration. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Probably not in time for dinner.’ She followed Mr. Cadwallader through the light, which she now realized was a portal, and found herself in the middle of a large, ivy-covered school campus. The buildings that she could see seemed to be a combination of brick, copper, and glass, and they looked simultaneously 400 years old and from 400 years in the future. She was standing on a copper circle on the edge of a sprawling, green lawn dotted with wildflowers, and all around her students in green-and-white uniforms were hurrying along paths. ‘Welcome to Billbergia!’ Mr. Cadwallader announced.

Excerpt from “Sunglasses”
By Naomi Hernandez

I pondered for a moment. 45 dollars isn’t so bad, I guess. I rummaged through my pocket and pulled out a 50 dollar bill. He immediately eyed the bill greedily.

“Ah…” He stuttered, then shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “I have no cash.”

I forced a smile, muttering curses under my breath, and handed him the bill.

“Here,” he announced. I snatched the sunglasses and coat from the street vendor, pissed at his trickery. My frown deepened as I walked away from his stand. “This crap’s probably at the verge of falling apart anyways. No wonder his stand was bare,” I told myself. Regretting spending 50 dollars on a probably one-time-use item, I decided to at least put some use into the items I got. I put on the glasses, relieving myself of the sting of a thousand billboards. However, something was wrong. Very wrong.

The bright smiles the models wore on the advertisements were now strained. Sad, almost. And despite the sunglasses on my face, the sky seemed to darken, as if it were midnight. My first instinct was to take out my phone and record, and immortalize the impressive feats of film right before me. I tried turning my phone on, but the screen remained black, as though it had no charge. I looked up from my phone, and saw a brunette woman with short curly hair holding a bottle of Coca-Cola in an advertisement staring right at me.

She gave me a strained smile and motioned her face towards the bottle in her hands. “65 grams of sugar! You know, you only live once, and you look nice and youthful. how ‘bout you try some?” She tipped the bottle, and a flood of soda emptied under the billboard. The world around me erupted with the sound of water and the voice of the shrill laugh she gave out.

extant
By Eli Gologanova

i am comprised of uranium,
made up of that which powers nuclear reactors and melts fauna;
she who both decays and inflicts decay.
so heavy i fell down the earth,
leaked deep into the soil,
crashed through the la’ers.

heard the chanting of trains and
the senseless chattering of worms,
the gossips of termites and
the forlorn wailing of parchéd tunnels.

i clink upon hitting our iron heart.
personally, i am a non-newtonian fluid,
so i bury my fingers into the core
and corrupt it like i do all else!

i soon arrive at the true middle,
stiff and warm and vehemently quiet:
i am home, no longer is there any thunder;
number ninety-two drifting blissfully off to sleep.

Childhood
By Dani Salsberg

I should’ve made more mistakes. With my eighteenth birthday only two months away, I try to remember the last time I played pretend. I can’t. I can think of the times when I pretended to be older and stronger but that was not a game. I should have been more carefree when I had the chance. Maybe I should’ve made more messes, eaten more candy, drawn more indecipherable illustrations, collected more Littlest Pet Shop dolls, made up stories, dressed up, and played. Maybe I will now. Until I turn eighteen, I’m going to pretend. 

Train Ride
By Nasid Anowar

I waved goodbye to my friend who had just left the train. I watched them climb up the stairs until the closing of train doors severed my sight. The atmosphere somehow got quieter, calmer. In a swift motion, I dropped my backpack on my feet, making sure it didn’t hit the train floor. Even though my backpack has traveled the four corners of the entire universe, placing it on the train floor is an atrocity I could never bring myself to commit. Unzipping my backpack, I pulled out a bright red book, flipped open to where I left off, and started reading. To my luck, a seat was available. I sat down as inconspicuously as possible, my eyes never leaving the page. I got a few looks and stares, but with my sky blue jacket and neon book, it’d be hard not too. Not to mention, my beauty attracts attention everywhere I go, so I simply brushed it off.

Five, ten minutes went by. The groaning of the train as it slowed and sped back up provided serene back- ground noise as I read. The train, with its abrupt stops to the sudden stillness lulled me into a fleeting sleep. Before I knew it, a monotone voice annoyingly blared through the speakers; it was my stop. I looked up at the mini sign-board, just to make sure I was really at my station. The train came to a full halt, and my gaze lazily drifted outside the dirty win- dow. Alas, I was left with two choices to make. If I stepped out now, I would reach home at about six o’clock. Two seconds seemed to stretch out for- ever as I contemplated whether I wanted to walk down the grimy, bustling streets of my neighborhood, walk through my front door, and be bombarded with small talk and little siblings. I smiled at myself, thinking of how my Ma would absolutely murder me, and I had an unreasonable amount of homework due.

Safe to say, I made it home by eight that day.