If I could give one piece of advice to my past self, it would be to trust in the ability to learn and adapt. Life will often be uncertain, but that uncertainty is not something to fear. Instead, it should be seen as an opportunity for growth. When I was younger, I worried about making perfect decisions. I thought I needed to know all the answers before moving forward. Over time, I realized that growth comes from trying, f...

Back in junior high, I was always the quiet one—the one who followed the flow, never wanting to disturb the current. I remember standing in front of the classroom, pretending I didn’t care when someone else got the praise I secretly wanted. I told myself it didn’t matter. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t being true to myself. If I could write one short piece of advice to that version of me—the past me—I would say: "Stay ded...

I didn’t come to the beach to fall in love. I came because I was bored, burnt out, and vaguely dramatic about turning thirty. I’d quit my job three days earlier by replying “No” to an e-mail that said “Please confirm availability for Q3 onboarding.” I packed a backpack, found a cheap rental by the sea, and brought the three things I trust: my camera, my skateboard and my grandmother’s dented thermos. The first time I saw...

And now I close my eyes to dream of silent drums beating ‘neath the sea’s dark breast-- its heinous tempo shaping Norns’ decree. Begging only this, Do vassal’s whims hold no weight? And now I close my eyes to dream. Sky dark as a sceptre’s cloak above the pathless deep. The wind’s ghastly sweet melody like severed chords calling me hence. Pray, who shall banquet on my soul? And now I close my eyes to dream, clad in blood...

Dreams rise from the deep – dreams of forgotten treasure buried in hollows of shadow and silence, where the glint of gold calls out to the light like a dying star. Hope, delicate yet insistent, reaches with embroidered fingers to press against the drumbeat of my heart. I draw breath – not merely air, but awakening, slow, primal, and shattering in its release. A resurrection. A flickering vision. A single, dark eye widenin...

Your clouds gather and form over time Shielding me from the sun's crime Painting the skies with your paradigm A vision that is truly sublime Your rain pours onto my skin Your wind whirls me into a spin Washing me of my sin Cleansing me from the rot within Your thunder reverberates in my heart It speaks to me like a breathtaking piece of art Your booms are ever so clever I could listen to you rattle the earth forever Your...

Once upon a time there lived a tiny crab. Peeking from his modest hole, he found himself inside a majestic sandcastle, complete with moat and turrets. “Behold!” he proclaimed. “The sand gods finally giveth me the riches I deserve and crowned me King Clawdius!” He ruled over the seashells with an iron claw—for thirteen glorious minutes. Then, as the sun hid its face below the horizon, the enemy launched its attack. The tid...

I seethed with repressed anger, waiting with my parents at the gate for Lufthansa flight FL401 to board. Scowling, thinking, I hate you, Mom, for agreeing to this. I hate you, Dad, for telling Mom, “It will be a good experience for her.” I hate you, Uncle Jack and Aunt Betty, for offering to host me for the summer. Thanks for f@#king my summer! I hate you all. Uncle Jack was Dad’s brother. A career U.S. Air Force officer,...

She rented the house for six weeks. It was small, just one bedroom and a screen porch, with ceiling fans that wobbled when they turned. There was a beach a few minutes’ walk away, but she rarely went. She preferred the quiet of the mornings — the hum of insects, the slow warming of the air, the way the early light filtered softly through the house’s porch screens, pale and golden, casting a mesh of shadow across the floor...

Twelve minutes. Why am I so nervous? Of course, I was nervous then, too… I joined the line at the Dickson Dining Hall with the other high school students taking special summer courses at Cornell, and stood behind a cute blonde girl. Deciding that I wouldn’t be the shy nobody I was in high school, I said “Hi!” She turned and broke into a smile. “Hi yourself! So, what are you in for?” “Special relativity and quantum mechani...

He showed up on a Monday, carrying a skateboard, a chipped thermos and a camera with no strap. Then, very seriously – as though we weren’t already standing on a sandpit of seagulls – he asked, “Where’s the beach?” I pointed over my shoulder at the waves shuffling up and down the shore like an indecisive waiter. “Just past the seaweed. If you reach your childhood memories, you’ve gone too far.” He blinked. “That’s oddly po...

At first glance, Edenmere appears to have leapt off the pages of one of Millie’s childhood storybooks. Adorable pastel-painted shoppes with quaint coffee cafes and bakeries nestled between them line the streets. Scents of cinnamon, spice, and even chocolate delight her nostrils as she strolls along the speckled cobblestoned walkway. Golden lampposts stand watch on every corner, twisted into whimsical shapes, no two alike....

Heron, as I’d grown used to calling him, folded eight paper cranes as a eulogy to his former self, every day before he did anything else. He’d been doing this for months, preparing for the first of a series of surgeries that would make him more himself. We lived in Cove Town, in those early years, back when I still liked to be called Reeds, just my natal surname but it was better than the given name that I had long since...

“Good morning, Lil. Big day for you today, isn't it?” Lillian Jackson smiled up from her bed at the young man in the white coat, who was holding a cup of tea. For five years, she had lived at the Castle View Rest Home, ever since she had fallen and broken her elbow and shoulder. Crippled with arthritis, she was no longer able to look after herself, and so, after much soul-searching, she and her son agreed that it was for...

Mia pressed her forehead to the car window, watching the city’s grey dissolve into the open sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed, really laughed. Life had become a series of muted days: work, sleep, repeat. Even her friends’ voices had grown distant, muffled by exhaustion. She hoped the sea might remember who she used to be. Her phone buzzed with work emails and missed calls as she pulled up the sandy la...