Caves

Caves

You know there is no light at the end of this tunnel. All you will touch is a cold dark damp wall, covered in otherworldly abominations. They titter and whisper in voices unfamiliar to human ears, the creaking of antennae or the tapping of teeth on stone, and maybe you can hear them chuckle.  The cave is dark enough that the world looks the same when your eyes are…
Sunscreen Project: Infographics and Children’s Book

Sunscreen Project: Infographics and Children’s Book

Hi all! Throughout this school semester, I worked to address the racial misconception surrounding sunscreen use and melanoma prevention by spreading infographics around my campus, Northfield Mount Hermon School, and holding exhibitions and presentations on my children's book for universal sunscreen use. I wanted to share this with you all as well, so please check out some of the infographics and storyboards I worked on below! My research has…
Sonnets

Sonnets

Sonnets are a type of poem that consists of a line of verse, each consisting of one short (or unstressed) syllable followed by one long (or stressed) syllable. Stressed syllables are the ones that are pronounced more strongly and unstressed ones are usually pronounced with less accentuation. There are three main types of sonnets: Italian, English, and Spenserian. Each contributes to the tone and author's intention of the poems. Check…
A Message to the Dead

A Message to the Dead

Let me follow the smoke, look for its shadow, though not that which comes from cigarettes, burning into sickly sweet scents that will hurt, later. That is not the right one. I wish to follow the scent of burning incense, of red candles lit for the dead, of paper money and whatnot all turned to white ash, and follow the messenger, to follow the push and pull if the…
The Housekeeper and the Professor: A Creative Revision

The Housekeeper and the Professor: A Creative Revision

It has been days since the Professor broke out of his thoughts. He was confronted with an extremely difficult problem — the most expensive one in the history of the Journal of Mathematics, too — and he has been wrestling with it ever since. Money was not the Professor’s motivation, however, he was simply enjoying the difficulty of the problem. The piled checks in the mailbox from the Journal…
Forests

Forests

Image source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/67407148@N02/25526356158 The forest whispers.  It will whisper to anyone who hears it, which is, in truth, very few. Its branches will bend down, and the leaves will move, and you will learn things for which there are no words, secrets that you can never use. Still, it is worth a peek, these twisting woods, with their oddly yielding ground and the tremors left in your wake.  The…
Blackout

Blackout

My eyes snapped open. It was dead silent, and I could hear only my heart racing. Darkness loomed outside. A hint of moonlight peeked through my window, a hint of the light landing on my pale face. The darkness all around me was engulfing, suffocating, and I couldn't breathe.  I knew I had been through another one of my blackouts, the ones which happen at the queerest of times,…
Forty-two Kilometers

Forty-two Kilometers

Forty-two kilometers.  That’s not that much.  No, it is that much.  But I can’t back up.  I walk up to the white line that marks the start of the soon-to-come run. To the left and right, 61 men, already sweaty and pumped from their warm-up run, kick and punch the air, signaling their bodies to get ready for the most important run of the century. In German, the black…
The Summer of Strawberry Pound Cake

The Summer of Strawberry Pound Cake

The Summer of Strawberry Pound Cake The grass beneath you feels like fur, softly grazing your back and tickling your arm as you lay on the ground with your best friend.  You’ve been looking at her for a long time. Your eyes trace over her golden brown locks, her sun-kissed freckled face, her cherry blossom pink-tinted cheek, and finally, to her plump glossy rouge lip.  You feel adrenaline rush…
Foolish Fire

Foolish Fire

How did I end up here? Violent wind tangles Enzo’s already tousled hair turning it into a dark mesh of wayward strands. He blinks and tries to make sense of a foreign weight on his face. Has he been to a masquerade? No, it’s too heavy to be a carnival one. A gas mask. Why is he wearing a gas mask? The fog on the goggles clears a bit,…