Louie Legendary

Greg Vogt

They always tell you that making a good first impression means everything, but if there is one thing I have learned since moving to Boston, it’s that first impressions often mean nothing.  I’ll be the first to admit that I…

Someone to Sing To

Kelsey Worley

  It was a gloomy, quiet morning in Harvard Square, and as I waited for Felix’s Shoe Repair to open, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.  I looked around, searching for a pair of eyes that…


Rosemary Hilliard

The skeletal silhouettes of naked birch trees scratched against the window, creaking audibly in a cool, autumnal breeze.  Vast, yellow tendrils of sunlight spilled from the whispering branches, pooling like liquid gold on the windowsill and green grass below.  Far…

Metropolis: A Boston Summer

Kathryn Bilinski

THE TRAIN FROM CONNECTICUT: This train chugs along relentlessly – burning, yearning, returning – completely unaware of the sleepy state of its inhabitants. But today I feel akin to my locomotive as it thunders along the well-beaten path of a…

Racism in Restaurants

Courtney Swain

“I don’t want that table,” my colleague said to me. “They’re Canadians. You can take them if you want.” Before I walked up to the new table to great the customers, I wondered briefly at how she’d instantly judged our…

The Promise

Kiel Gulick

  My first boss was an old slob, round in the middle, with a bald spot the size of a grapefruit on the back of his head. His name was Mike Palermo and the only job I could have seen…

Three Sonnets

Mark Simos

A sonnet is a form of rails and bars / And not much like the gossamer spider’s web / A foursquare scaffold toward the circling stars /

My Grandmother the Alien

Luis Lascano

Every grandmother is crazy in some way.  The reason for that may be related to the fact of simply having lived a long time.  The “aging element” becomes more evident when they are put in the situation of having grandchildren.…

A Strange Encounter

Michael Hazani

I’m standing in a crowded street, a few feet away from a staircase leading down to the underground station. People blur by, walking purposefully, avoiding eye contact. The sun is already high in the sky; it must be noontime, or…

The Hero

Sue Buzzard

CREATION The Hero was born on a cold winter’s morn in December.  The wind was blisteringly frigid and blowing to shake the eaves from the roof.  The weather was too dangerous to go out or for a doctor to come…