May 2021
Issue 9
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FICTION
Jasper
Lovvorn-Black Waves crash against the sand, sending sandpipers sprinting away. |
FICTION
Meghan Malone
Life is a difficult concept to grasp when you know you have only six days left of it. |
POETRY
Nina Thompson
i hope you are proud of me for my mind has become a haphazard collection of half-finished letters addressed to you |
FICTION
Mia Skoble
I stand, staring, my eyes wide at the glittering glass and reflections and trinkets around me. |
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FICTION
Daisy
Paris-Kaufman No. Not again. The words hang faintly in my head as I start to make my way to the front door, a can of gasoline in my hand. |
POETRY
Aja Lelchuk
She had let me into her vibrant life And had enhanced the brightness of mine |
FICTION
Skyler Rockmael
In the middle of a cold day in February, Claudette Danis and her husband, Bryan Shwartz, stepped off the airplane and were welcomed by Bay Area fog. |
FICTION
Kenna Klop-Packel
girlhood. These are small fingers. Small fingers, smaller hands. If it is possible. |
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FICTION
Auden Svoboda
I take one look at the line of people stretching across the blacktop and change my mind. |
FICTION
Zora Laddish
Colin splashed into the darkened dead end, his shoes soaked through from the puddles. |
FICTION
Sonja Wooley
The handle of my flashlight was warm where I gripped it. |
FICTION
Mahela Cabrini
The bubbling in my foot. It seems to happen only when I'm not doing anything. |
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FICTION
Julia Weinberg
When morning broke, Dex begged his boss for a second chance. |
2021 Emerging Writers
Each year, Redwood invites eighth graders at King, Longfellow, and Willard middle schools in Berkeley
to submit pieces for publication in our May issue.
Emerging Writers are guided through the editing process by experienced Redwood writers.
to submit pieces for publication in our May issue.
Emerging Writers are guided through the editing process by experienced Redwood writers.
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Emerging Writer
POETRY
Shiva Swaminathan Strickland
The pink cherry blossoms lining the streets The petals trailing behind the trees |
Emerging Writer
FICTION
Soline Loeffler
Cellie gripped her necklace tightly before turning to Edana. |
Emerging Writer
FICTION
Zael Johnson
“You talk to me as if I were born yesterday.” “You were.” I grin. |
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Emerging Writer
FICTION
Divya Sachdeva
Nora swings open the door right before I even get the chance to knock. |
March 2021
Issue 8
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I was born on the sand Amidst towering dunes I couldn’t hope to climb |
The 11:07 lovingly deposited its gaggle of Friday morning passengers onto the platform. |
Tarnish weighs heavy on her mind. As does the crown, but it’s the tarnish she’s most worried about. |
You would have loved her Everyone did |
“Hello?” I held my breath as my voice resounded through the hallway. |
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As soon as I am out of the subway, I am greeted by the bustle of Manhattan. |
she picks up one of the dull pencils from the pile on her desk |
The phone rings. "Hello? I'm Sofia Reynolds." |
She had seen it. No one had taken her seriously, because she was so young. |
It was meant to be a simple trip, only a few days long. |
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When I got home, the last thing I expected to see was an officer talking to my spouse. |
It is a dark bottle; it has a white cap and a white label wraps around the middle. |
I have decided to put on my rose-colored glasses |
The scent of damp concrete fills the air. |
December 2020
Issue 7
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She has press-on nails. |
Lev gazed out the window as the carriage whizzed through the air. |
Having excused the guests from his house after the book club, Mr. Brice felt unsatisfied. |
You softly open the old metal door to your bunker . . . |
i’ve always viewed this earth with the lens of affection |
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“Ready?” Rosie asks as we shuffle forward in the queue. |
I’m sorry I’m the one to deliver the news . . . |
Everything feels wrong. |
I lay awake, curled up under my sheets in our shoebox of an apartment in Brooklyn. |
I walk along the curb, watching my steps carefully, making sure I don’t step on any cracks. |
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She lies awake in moon-soaked sheets How will it go? |
It had been a while since I had seen anything. |
The Sun didn’t come first. |
Slowly she realized that she couldn't do anything. |
We always remember the moment right before everything changes. |
October 2020
Issue 6
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It begins with the doorman. A white envelope, an unrecognizable seal. |
Faces are flying past, accompanied by a cacophony of footsteps |
The train continued to rattle on the tracks. |
I stare into my own eyes. I don’t recognize the person in the reflection. |
Dennis and Gail sat in their apartment, in the bright light of all the candles crowding his ice cream cake. |
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It was a Sunday afternoon and I slipped wordlessly from the house, taking the stairs two at a time. |
Lia rolled over once more, her blankets tightening their snake-like grip on her body. |
Two women stood facing one another |
It was their fourth day of winter break, and Clancy was on a sledding trip to Yosemite with his cousins. |
She wakes. Stone and bedrock enfold sore limbs, pain breeding not from use but from the lack of it. . . |
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“Hey, hey.” I shudder, as someone speaks from right behind me. |
When fire roars And smoke rises The whole world Just improvises |
Do you remember when we used to smile? |
I walked down the dirt path, hoping to find anything of interest. |
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