Nonfiction
by Anna Mirer.
“It is eleven o’clock at night, and I am stomping around with half a skull in
my hand.”
by Alexa Rose Steinberg.
“Throughout the evening, I hear explanations of why people can’t talk when I call…”
by Nancy Devine.
“This must be the first harvest from our acreage: our young vineyard singing, the plastic, ribbed grow tubes that make little greenhouses for each of the young grape plants catching wind and, like a throat and its vocal chords, producing a note.”
by Ucheoma Onwutuebe.
“I am a Nigerian woman, plagued by Nigerian womanly problems. When I moved to America for graduate school last summer, I believed this new country would shield me from those nagging afflictions.”
by Avra Aron.
“You are twelve years old and your mind is like a game of hot potato. Your thoughts are quick and jerky, and you need to get past them before you get burned.”
Sahar Delijani.
“I am a child of the Iranian revolution. In 1983, my mother gave birth to me in Evin Prison, one of Iran’s most notorious jails.”
by Mallika Sekhar.
“The ward doctor rang me late in the night to say that the Judge had been admitted with COVID-19 and was not doing well. He wasn’t deemed fit for ICU because of his age and his prior illness, the blood cancer for which my team had been treating him for many years.”
by Eric Jones.
“Pain made me a precocious student of time, each middle ear infection a new lesson on the uncatchable instant.”
by Laura Johnsrude.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about blood during my training years—hoping I could get enough of it, wondering which vein would yield the best supply of it, wishing the patients had more of it, calling the blood bank for a bag of it.”