Plain China

April 2016

Falling in Love With the Red Priest

Amanda Pekar · Prescott College

“I don’t like Bach,” I complained, lowering my bow. I was fourteen and feeling contrary.

Meditation at St. Thomas of Aquinas

Daniela Childers · Dartmouth College

Kneeling, I look up at Christ strung up on wires slowly swinging over the head of the priest the center of attention, it's almost garish.

Transhuman Microfiction

Emily Mesev · Grinnell College

Transhumanism the belief or theory that the human race can evolve beyond its current physical and mental limitations, especially by means of science and technology

Dancing to Death

Forest Balderson · Eckerd College

Shortly after my dad shot and killed himself I visited my mom at the Town Tavern. She looked like a vampire, drained, rejecting life-giving blood from its only son.

Mimosa Pudica

Michaela Cowgill · American University

This is the good part of the story. Every July we drove to the shore in our creaky white minivan to visit my great Uncle Lee. If there were a sharp turn, the whole van would feel like it was about to tip over like a red flyer wagon. The seats were blue and uncomfortable.

Falling in Love With the Red Priest

Amanda Pekar · Prescott College

“I don’t like Bach,” I complained, lowering my bow. I was fourteen and feeling contrary.

Meditation at St. Thomas of Aquinas

Daniela Childers · Dartmouth College

Kneeling, I look up at Christ strung up on wires slowly swinging over the head of the priest the center of attention, it's almost garish.

Transhuman Microfiction

Emily Mesev · Grinnell College

Transhumanism the belief or theory that the human race can evolve beyond its current physical and mental limitations, especially by means of science and technology

Dancing to Death

Forest Balderson · Eckerd College

Shortly after my dad shot and killed himself I visited my mom at the Town Tavern. She looked like a vampire, drained, rejecting life-giving blood from its only son.

Mimosa Pudica

Michaela Cowgill · American University

This is the good part of the story. Every July we drove to the shore in our creaky white minivan to visit my great Uncle Lee. If there were a sharp turn, the whole van would feel like it was about to tip over like a red flyer wagon. The seats were blue and uncomfortable.