Post- Magazine Narrative

a love letter to apples [narrative]

By Lynn Nguyen | November 22

With the pastel blue peeler—its slightly rusted metal speckled with black, remnants of the countless fruits and vegetables eaten, cooked, and shared by my mom and grandma—I shaved the ombrés of scarlet red and golden yellow off seemingly innumerable apples. The precise, crisp peels revealed a smooth, ...

i wanted to see how long i could go [narrative]

By Benjamin Herdeg | November 20

I was on a bike ride down the hill. It was finally getting colder. It felt like I had pennies in the back of my throat. I shivered in my unzipped coat and slowed as it parachuted larger. But the incline pitched steeper, and I kept pedaling. I wanted to see how fast I could go.

what we inherit [narrative]

By Michelle Bi | November 13

I decided when I was six that my favorite color was blue. Blue like the far-off horizon as I perched at the peak of the playground slide. Blue like the crayon I clamped in my small fists, coloring in lakes and rivers and seas. Blue like the eyes of the girl next door.

echoes of autumn [narrative]

By Ana Vissicchio | November 13

I try to catch myself. As the autumn leaves start to fall, sometimes it feels like I do too.

about fire [narrative]

By Nina Lidar | November 7

Afterward, the breeze stirred the ash and the ash settled back down. The breeze tried again. And again. And—whooohhh. When the flakes lifted, something small and bright and green trembled under the new caress of the mildest rays.

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i missed my sister's call last week [narrative]

By Benjamin Herdeg | November 6

My sister called me last week, but I didn't pick up. She texted that she wanted to talk. But then I forgot.

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a fairy magical halloween [narrative]

By Lynn Nguyen | October 30

The white tiles of the living room were cool to the touch of my bare arms and legs. In between the gaps of the tiles were lines of grout, some light gray, some dark, some brown, and the uneven surface discomforted my forearms and chest as I lay down on the floor. My mind was not wary of my body. Before ...

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my grandparents came to town [narrative]

By Benjamin Herdeg | October 24

My grandparents came to Providence last weekend. Truth is, I was scared to see them. On Saturday, they had said they would drive through on Sunday, so I cleared my schedule to be with them.

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quotes [narrative]

By Pooja Kalyan | October 24

They provide me with comfort.

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home is a place revisited [narrative]

By Emily Tom | October 24

Here’s the thing: I left home to become a writer and now all I want to write about is home.

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counting grains [narrative]

By Helen Xie | October 16

TW: eating disorder

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nature writing [narrative]

By Lynn Nguyen | October 9

Holding my iPad against my body, I steadily lifted myself into the rolling chair. Once seated, I laid the tablet on my lap and peered out through the window. My grandma, a tiny Asian woman in a straw hat, was pouring water from a mug onto the garden plants in our front yard. After each watering, she ...

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living with friends [narrative]

By Ana Vissicchio | October 9

Lately, I’ve had a lot of those mornings that when I wake up, time just stretches, and I feel gelatinous. Like Jell-O. I’ve had more of them than I can count. I greet these viscous mornings with a groggy head and eyes that won’t open beyond halfway. A blindingly bright alarm clock mocks me. It’s ...

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hands ready to catch [narrative]

By Helen Xie | October 2

“Helen, you should call yéye more often.” My father says this one afternoon as he loads the dishwasher, in a tone so normal it’s as if it is an afterthought.

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Post- Magazine

change and choice as one [narrative]

By Gabrielle Yuan | September 25

I find myself in an ebb and flow state of mind—wandering in and out of consciousness—one part of me here and one in my hometown. Feelings like this regularly shadow me throughout late summer, the seasons unraveling into one until every part of my routine is twisting and turning without reason to ...

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sounds of the quiet green [narrative]

By Sarah Frank | September 25

It’s quiet here. It’s too early for cicadas, but I swear I hear them. I hear them intermingling with three girls sharing the highlights of their weekends and the rush of engines on the roads nearby. A school bus, followed by a motorcycle, followed by a minivan. I hear their engines hum, pause, rev, ...

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generational mixtape [narrative]

By Jedidiah Davis | September 18

Nope. Nope. Not that one. Ehh… Definitely not that one. Nope…

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a letter to my fairies [narrative]

By Katheryne Gonzalez | September 18

I used to believe in fairies.

Post- Magazine

half-faded, but alive [narrative]

By Liza Kolbasov | April 24

Lately, I’ve been watching myself disappear again. I remember the feeling, achingly familiar, like the warm hug of your covers when you know you’ve slept too long past your alarm. It used to cling to me constantly. My freshman year of college, at any given point, I wasn’t sure whether I existed. ...

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post- post- [narrative]

By Ellie Jurmann | April 24

“We have a lot of fun here,” said a Brown Daily Herald staff member with his shoulders tensed up to his ears, in a tone so serious you would think he was delivering tragic news. Maybe the copious amount of devastating news he reports on the Daily has altered his perception of “fun.” The amount ...