Submissions are accepted on a regular basis, year-round.
Can include, short stories, essays, poetry and prose.
Must not exceed 3,000 words.
Must be written by a current ESA student, or alumni.
Submissions are accepted:

Friday, 9 January 2015

By Sauvanne Margaux
I remember being seventeen.
I remember running down the street in my bare feet. It wasn't even summer.
I remember holding my best friend's hand until our palms were sweaty.
I remember the lingering feeling of kisses on my lips. I would look in the mirror to see if they were blueish, because sometimes these lustful bites left bruises. I remember riding my bike like there was no tomorrow. The wind rushing through my hair, because of course I did not wear a helmet. Who did? Not seventeen year old girl trying to conquer the world... or at least trying to make it to dance class on time. I remember not wearing a bra. The bumps on the road when riding a bike gave extra exhilaration. It was just enough pain to cringe but never enough to cry.
I remember the feeling of being desired, in a way so passionate I thought I must have been Juliet. Thankfully I wasn't, because Juliet would never be able to remember being seventeen. I remember drinking rhum, closing my eyes and swaying to the sound of my friend's record player. We were just another pair of girls pretending to belong to another century. But hell, did Alex Turner's voice make us feel godamn sexy. I remember pretending to be in love. It felt like the first taste of a sugar cube. Then I remember being in love. That felt like the sugar cube was coated in ginger and then got in my throat. A feeling of both pleasure and discomfort. Seventeen was bittersweet. I remember this feeling of invincibility paired with feeling of hopelessness. I remember fights with my mother, ending in tears. I remember my friends pulling a few of my heart strings as they drifted away from me. I remember not wanting to go to school. Not wanting to talk to another person about who slept with who, or how much they hated math, or what they wanted to do later on. I didn't know. The world was a great unknown. An ominous globe of possibilities and all I had to was pick one. Well that's fucking hard. I remember being seventeen because I am. And I wont be always. I'm nearing the end of my forever years. The years where life feels endless and yet certain moments feel so brief. Tomorrow someone will turn seventeen and tomorrow someone won't be. I hope they remember being seventeen.

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