CREATIVE NON-FICTION
ISSUE 6
Something at the beach.
by Madeleine Medeiros
There I lay in my new pink bikini, towel draped over every arch and indentation of my face to shield from the unforgiving sun, my mother sitting a few feet away.
Even though I had covered my face and turned my head, I could still hear them laughing—the two women only a few yards out on the water—floating on some garish rainbow unicorn floatie innertubes. It was that carefree laugh that all lucky women belt out when they’re with their best friend. It sounded like pure, unadulterated fun carried out across the Cape Cod breeze.
Pendula
by Evelyn Villanueva
From the path, it looked like it was crying.
Every leaf heavy with its own shadow, its branches curved downward like ribs, a body
folding in on itself.
Across the Sink
by Adam Petrosino
The buzz from my razor envelops my senses as I carefully keep the neat routine of my facial hair. It’s hypnotic almost, helpfully so, as it locks my eye on the razor. I can focus on the task at hand. I slowly chisel my face into order, a familiar structure that the hand remembers. This morning though, my focus slips—away from the buzz, the razor, the hand, the task—and I see myself. I study myself. Take in each feature. I wonder how the order I keep on my face defines me.
Distorted Reflections
by Madison Willis
Watercolor and Colored Pencils
A Fire Still Burning
By Kaitlyn Costa
There are moments in life that split everything into a before and after. For me, that
moment came with five words: “Your father has thymic carcinoma.” I didn’t even know what
those words meant at first. All I heard was cancer. My heart was racing, my palms were
sweating, and a ball in my throat formed, as I held back my tears the more my mother started to
explain. I didn’t even know what those words meant exactly. I remember googling them in a
panic, Thymic Carcinoma.
