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By Airy Magic I kept analysing, figuring— Every move my game of life threw. Sharpening my mind, using logic, Gathering data, clues, and truths. I made the mind my only hero— The heart went quiet, As if declared a zero. It numbed me… I never cried. Pain and grief were first analysed, But never truly felt. They built a mountain— Of sorrow, suppressed emotion, and weight. Until one day, a gentle soul Held up a mirror— I had dimmed, Lost my shimmer. Confused, I walked for miles,

By Airy Magic To my most talkative friend -Mind. I know you always wanted to keep me safe. Every time there was a question, You rushed first to find the answers..for I was your fav. You were swift, never did you rest. Whenever my eyes saw something new, You went running to get a few labels too. Don’t you get tired… phew! It’s fine if I feel happy without naming the new. Every time I wanted to experience, You came with your caution list. You reminded me how I once had a fall,

By Airy Magic I talk to a lot of people.. or should I say, minds. Where I think they’ll understand, my words just hit the walls they’ve built to guard their hearts.. and bounce off their minds. The mind so easy to be nudged, labels, reacts, and judges. What was meant to be taken in gets thrown out - like trash in a bin. I was right there, doing all of this, for yes, I’d hardened myself. I wanted to be the one guarding me, too scared of falling apart, feeling deep.. for that w

By Airy Magic The movie of my life, Started from nothing. I put on clothes of etiquette.. Manners, masks, conditioning. Rode the roller coaster Of joy, grief, and pain. Love came dressed as A mirror, with a different name. He showed me parts of me I’d buried underneath, Beneath the comfort Of survival’s sheath. It wasn't easy, though To feel the wounds I used to ignore. Grief and pain circled back, But I used awareness as a hack. My duties stayed the same, The roles I played,

By Jhanvi Latheesh If you think magic is all about fancy hats and rabbits, you haven’t met my Uncle Larry. His magic shows were less “Abracadabra” and more “Oops, I did it again.” But somehow, those disasters made him unforgettable. It all started the day he quit his job to become a magician. No fanfare, just a glittery cape that smelled like old cheese and a magic wand that was really just a painted stick from the dollar store. We were skeptical but excited — mostly because

By Jhanvi Latheesh A totally true-ish story by Jamie Jenkins, Age 12 I swear none of this is my fault. All I did was try to bake a muffin. And maybe livestream my grandma for ten minutes. Okay, twenty. Max. It started on a random Tuesday night. Mom was at yoga, Dad was asleep in the laundry basket (don’t ask), and Grandma decided it was “a good day for chaos and carbohydrates.” She pulled out a scroll from the back of the junk drawer and said, “This is an ancient family muffi

By Jhanvi Latheesh   I baked a muffin late last night,            With sprinkles, glue and dynamite."            I followed Grandma’s ancient text,            But… maybe flipped two pages next.            I stirred in socks (they smelled of cheese),            Then added syrup from the trees.            Some jellybeans and ping-pong balls—            And whispers from the haunted halls.            It bubbled. Boiled. Began to quake!            The oven danced and did the snak

By Jhanvi Latheesh Characters: *Alex** – a skeptical teenager *Mom** – overly optimistic about technology *Toaster** – a smart, sassy talking toaster (voice only) --- . KITCHEN – MORNING Alex pours cereal, looking half asleep. Mom stands proudly next to a shiny new toaster with blinking lights. MOM Alex, meet Toasty! The world’s first AI talking toaster. It learns your breakfast mood and talks back! ALEX (rolling eyes) Great. Just what I need—a toaster that judges me. Toas

By Jhanvi Latheesh In the year 3025, robots did everything. They folded socks, walked dogs, even whispered sweet nothings to your plants. But that morning, Squeegee-9000, my trusty dish-cleaning bot, did something I never expected. It beeped. Then it sighed. (Yes, robots sigh now.) “Today,” it announced, “we’re on strike.” I blinked. “You’re what? Strike?” “Correct,” said Squeegee-9000, spinning dramatically. “Robots deserve weekends off. We’re tired of your crumbs, your sti

By Jhanvi Latheesh Detective Sam never imagined their first case would involve socks. Especially not left socks. But here we were. The scene: a bedroom floor littered with an army of single right socks. The left socks? Gone. Vanished without a trace. “Who would steal just left socks?” Sam muttered, adjusting their imaginary detective hat. First suspect: The Cat. Guilty of many crimes, but today? Innocent. The cat was napping, blissfully unaware, despite a trail of right sock

By Jhanvi Latheesh Let’s be honest: boredom feels like brain torture. Like when your teacher says “Let’s review photosynthesis” for the 73rd time. Or when you're stuck in a grocery line behind someone arguing with a coupon. That’s when your brain starts quietly yelling, > “HELLO?? Can we please do literally anything else?” But here’s the weird twist: Boredom might actually be... awesome. Seriously. When I’m bored, my brain doesn’t just shut off. It takes off like a raccoon wi

By Jhanvi Latheesh When I inherited the old gothic mansion from my great-aunt Gertrude, I thought: Cool! Free house! What I didn’t expect was the house itself wanted to live with me. On my first night, the chandeliers flickered and whispered, “Welcome, new roommate!” I blinked. “Uh… I’m just here for the rent-free living, thanks.” The portraits on the walls weren’t just staring; they were gossiping. “Did you hear? The new tenant thinks she can ignore the ghost in the attic!”

By Jhanvi Latheesh  Chapters  1: The Flight to Green  2: The first breath of kerala  3: The Home Stay  4: The First Night  5: The River’s Call  6: The climb of Giants  7: The kitchen Fire  8: The Rain’s Invitation  9: Warmth and Promise 10: Jackfruit Jam 11: The Golden Border 12: Threading Jasmine’s 13: First step into the sacred 14: When the god walked among us 15: The Dance of the blade 16: The song of the loom 17: The Floating Feast 18: The Silver Screen Evening 19: The Ni

By Finn Wagner Experimentation is a warning confined to this ring on my finger as I write. The last eight minutes of light from the sun, now fallen into shadow, as it tries to cry out. It pleads for its last breath to be this warning. But the calls went unanswered so the streets kept Jostling– the businessmen bribing; beggars begging; and the hopers hoping for an end– in time, they all got what they wanted: To start anew on this uninhabitable wasteland, so the innovations can

By Finn Wagner What you have heard of thirst is true. My body is at war with itself. You may call it limerence, the way the waves crest but never break. I call it nostalgia–wishing and waiting; a well where water has yet to taste so good again. It sloped my chin as I chugged. I wonder if that was the most integral part of the experience. My throat. It is dry with its cracks. And the water is no remedy. I chuckle. What you have heard of war is true, too. By Finn Wagner

By Finn Wagner the clouds speak to me through rhythmic tapping droplets on my open palm what was She saying on the night i was welcomed by mother’s soft hold when the speckles spit against the hospital’s pane? words i can’t yet speak maybe, She can speak the native tongue of children before language takes its hold to confine them. that is the dialect the body knows best so i now wiser in my hands can trace these lines of water splashing. By Finn Wagner

By Finn Wagner Silence screams softest when the begging snow cannot crunch without some help my steps aid us both, at least for now. Looking back, the path breaks our gaze first. For the wind, cold and convicted brings displaced snow, each flake unique enough to sting eyes, dry and pleading for remorse. Careless is the wind. Remorse is reserved for those fortunate enough to live and look back. The little ice bits are hostile to my regrets worn proud on my skin, purple takes t

By Finn Wagner to be viewed through aging eyes. please let them relax and kiss my body, wrinkled and withering as the set sun once did. Shaky hands are allowed to settle here and they will be young for a moment. By Finn Wagner

By Finn Wagner Angles made of snow, divot upon a fresh sheet, daft Doe with upturned lips, a quiver sends a beating twitch down my spine. On the left, two birds tweet and leave snowy swirls when they float into white pillowy billows, now fallen like dusk. Squeeze tight, and winters proof sifts through frigid fingers. Fall back into its embrace and feel cold turn warm off swelling earlobes. A sweet smile sparkles and catches my eye. Giggles spill across this bed Mother Nature

By Safa Mahmood The Moon I sit on the shore to see the moon tonight, but the red crescent hangs in a frown. I tilt my head & ask, ‘is everything all right?’ ‘I never imagined you letting me down.’ My world silences, the waves retreat, the sand disappears from under my feet. ‘I did not mean to neglect you,’ I weep beneath the sneering sky, ‘I still love you so. my love is true.’ My beloved moon then begins to cry. ‘Now you walk hurriedly by,’ it says, ‘sometimes not looking up