Flash Fiction

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsJuly 15, 2012July 10, 2012

All We Need

“That’s f’ed up.” She tells us and we all begin to stifle snickers, knowing that this isn’t supposed to be funny, that it’s serious and important. I’ve never heard a teacher curse before, or almost curse, so it’s enough of a first for me to be in shock, even as I watch her stand before […]

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsJuly 10, 2012July 9, 2012

FunnyGir1

Her father called her a fast talker, her grandmother thought she was snarky, and her mother told her not to be rude, but she was only being funny. Enlightening those heavy minds whose hearts were clouded with the cumbersome anomalies of daily life, Irene laid her nimble fingers down on the keyboard to write down […]

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsJuly 6, 2012July 5, 2012

Smooth

Every night she imagined Smooth. Smooth, like the cheek of her baby sister lying under the rough soil outside. Smooth, like the coats of the ladies on the train, the ladies with Smooth lives who looked down their noses at the tangled girl far below them. Her Smooth was the color of peaches soft and […]

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsJuly 3, 2012July 3, 2012

Natalie

The attendees are leaving the church, some clasping my hands as they walk by, some ignoring me. As the last of the people go, I notice someone who looks like Greg. She has his soft mouth. She is walking away, and I follow her just to make sure. Or to watch her for a little […]

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsJuly 3, 2012July 2, 2012

Rider

The hero shifts his helmet into a more comfortable position, anticipating the struggle ahead. His muscles are stiff with nerves, and his hands tremble slightly. With the faintest of grunts, he mounts his sleek Pegasus, a beauty of a creature. Her dark amber eyes gleam in the sunlight, sparkling in the warm air. A moment’s […]

Writing by NYC Scholastic AwardsNovember 15, 2010November 13, 2012

Laugh at Me

Laugh at Me She rides the subway now. She is timid, worried, grabbing her baby with a young arm. Her eyes are dry and swollen. Her lips are pursed. She is young, although her eyes are taxed with all that she has seen, her body frail from all the beatings she has taken. Grasping that […]