Anyone from the age of 13 to the age of 17 is welcome to submit short stories, poems, and creative nonfiction via the submission form. We will select and post work on a quarterly basis, with new issues going up in January, April, July, and October. We'll let you know if your work has been selected within a month of your submission date.
Next issue (Summer) comes out July 26. Deadline for submissions is July 19, 2019. Please read our submission guidelines before submitting.
Selected for You're Write
We constructed this house, my insecurities and I,
out of the little things I vacillated on saying
and the people I was too reluctant to smile at
because I had already assembled a parti pris.
On the walls, we placed shiny pictures of us;
On the windows (and also our hearts), we placed shutters.
This, however, did not stop us from falling into the arms
As kids we ran and played in the rocky yard and worn down street
We ran around to and fro the lovely, tiny old creek
The blackberries grew long the fence and warned us not to touch
For the barbs on the fence and the thorns on the bush would surely hurt us a bunch
But the seasons changed and the years flew by making things change so greatly
Now here I am, older and wiser, but broken, broken, and breaking
Emily had been called a bookworm in school. It didn't bother her much since it was true. She loved books; in fact, she choose a paper-and-ink book over all the E-books that she saw people using at her school all the time. So, it was no surprise that she was heartbroken when the mayor announced that her local library was going to be torn down.
Now, Emily sat curled up in her bed, looking out the window of her bedroom, angrily watching people walking up and down the sunny streets reading articles and novels on their phones. She glanced at her own phone, then at her small bookshelf. Emily knew that reading off some glowing screen would never be the same as reading a book, and that she had already read the books in the house a thousands times. She put her head in her hands and stayed like that for what seemed like hours.
Then, suddenly, she jumped out of her bed and yelled," The main characters of books never give up when the going gets tough, so I won't either!"
Ode to books and all your pages.
Your words that fill up every inch of my life.
Words that come alive on the page before my eyes and put me in a hypnotic trance that will only be broken when the story ends.
Descriptions that transport you to far away places.
Places where we not only lose ourselves, but find ourselves.
Some would say an e-book does this as other would say "Why read the book when you can watch the movie?"