by Emma Lourdes Bernstein, Emma Roxanne Condie, and Emma Allison Eisler You’re in your apartment. The sounds and smells of a carnival are a distant memory as you watch snow drift past your window. Maybe you live alone. Maybe you … Continue reading Soft Pretzel Recipe for a Carnival in Your Apartment
by Jean Cambareri “Oh shit, not again,” I said, pointing my fin to the dopey-looking pet shop employee with the mop of blonde hair and a black net in his right hand. “Look at the calendar—it’s carnival season.” May, read … Continue reading It’s All Fun and Games
by Megan Rochlin art by Emma Eisler Remember when we danced And my skin felt like your skin Remember tiny volcanos and hands held in hands Persephone was never fucked like this Remember when we were fish And we moved … Continue reading Remember when we danced
by Emma Goldenthal art by Belle McDonald we’re used to all kinds of sand in our shoes. marker-paint converse, dirty laces, soles worn smooth from years of wandering suburban beachtown streets. will we ever be taller? sad carnival’s in our … Continue reading Portrait of Perpetuated Adolescence
by Sofia Paredes art by Belle McDonald Going to the carnival funhouse as a kid was fun. Seeing yourself stretched thin, wide, short, fat… You would point at your friends’ reflections and laugh at them until your stomach hurt. When … Continue reading Your body is a funhouse
by Leo Levy – CONTENT WARNING: suicide Continue reading Reflections
by Havi Rojer she moves long, light fingers with careful motions and creates little circles on the beach. her nails are very short and the sand waits patiently to crawl beneath them. the sea whispers to us with the scent … Continue reading oceanside
by Carrie Kim art by Emma Eisler This is an ages-old tale about a Fairy and a Woodcutter The chances are that you have heard it many, many times already You must know how the story goes, a kind woodcutter … Continue reading Look What We Have Here
by Jean Cambareri The metal bar squeezes hard against my chest Our thighs are touching The air is crisp A night in early May I should feel careless and free, like all the smiling faces below us Suddenly, the metal … Continue reading The Act
