3rd Place

I didn’t really want to die. It struck me as a strange realization as I stood on the edge of the pedestrian path on the bridge, looking down at the dark water below, and contemplating the jump that I had been hoping would end my life. Despite my decision, though, it was true that death was not the optimal answer to my problems. I did wish there was a different way. All I really wanted was for the pain to end. I wanted to stop suffering, to stop fucking everything up, and had reached the point that I thought that this was the only way.

in spring we welcome budding leaves;
With us longing to rest beneath them in summer's heat.
Then autumn paints the sky with auburn gems as it takes a noble 's seat,
And Winter to steal it away with its unseen thieves.

The first time we met
was at a greyhound station in the hills of Tennessee.
Even though we had known each other for well over a year.
If anything,
my visit was overdue.
It's funny how I decided to look so far away for companionship.
Based out of Metro Detroit,
there were plenty of options nearby.
Kids in my high school were out and open, about who they were and who they liked
yet I hesitated to do the same. As if there was an uncertainty and a fear built out of it.
That sense of distance created a sense of security.

Introduction by Prof. Angela Hathikhanavala, Barrett Committee:

Three knocks upon ashen wood, darkened by rain, wind, and time. All round the five travelers, raindrops whipped and landed with hard splats upon them, stinging with each drop that landed on their exposed skin. In the back of their group, Alouise was probably the most comfortable, with her long red and black robes covering her small frame entirely – though Niklas in the far front didn't envy her in the slightest. The robes of a mage, he remembered, were quite heavy to begin with, even without the hundreds of spell components stuffed into the thousands of pockets hidden within them.

Cheating has always been a concern for educators. However, with the steady rise in technology, students have found new, innovative ways to cheat in their classes. With the increase in online courses and education, a new market has developed. This goes beyond the traditional ways of cheating, which include plagiarism, asking others to write papers, and sneaking glances at the desk next you. Now, companies offer to complete entire classes, including all coursework and tests, for a less than modest fee.

Mexican, Puerto Rican, light-skinned, coal. Hawaiian, spic, nigger. Are you Arab? Are you sure? Mulatto, mixed breed, mutt. Beautiful curls, nappy head. Gorgeous brown eyes, full of shit. Go back to your own country, towel head. Abomination in God's eyes. Mud duck, high yellow. Exotic, captivating, ugly, disgusting. Porch monkey, Oreo. You don't belong here terrorist. Camel jockey. Burnt cracker, zebra, yellow nigger.
​Slaughtered identity. Who am I really?

“I can’t do this anymore, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, kissing my sleeping daughter on the forehead. She stirs but she doesn’t wake. I head to the front door. My mother is asleep on the sofa, face set in the disappointed scowl that I've grown so accustomed to seeing. She always said I would never be a good mother, that I was too selfish and lazy to be able to take care of another person. She would get the last word again. I shut the door soundlessly, and then begin the short walk to the highway.

Four legs and a flat surface. Cover it, color it, stain it, and drape it. Some are wood, glass, metal, plastic. There are so many varieties, limitless colors. Like a person crawling on their knees, a slab of stone thrown across their back; a burden that should be too heavy to bear. That was where he always came to feed his appetite. Not for food or sex, no. The kitchen was used to feed me reasons about why I wasn't good enough. “You were too lazy to wash the dishes?” “I told you to shut the hell up,” and “ugly worthless bitch.” He would smile as he devoured the pain his words caused.

Her history course was never that interesting. Dry reviews of the local natives and how much it sucked to be them. But today the professor had promised something different - a field trip. She gazed out the window of the small bus and watched the countryside roll by. The other students talked and laughed, white noise fading behind her. Her eyes followed the moving vegetation and power lines. She was skating along it somehow, so fluid and fast. Gray and brown, dust and dirt, until a sea of green emerged.