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:

Wednesday, 28 October 2015

Naturalist// by Anonymous

Shades of synthetic white and blue spilled across the counter.
Each dot a chance to dive under, every circle a chance at escape
Elements assaulting one another, air and earth appear the same, which way is up?
The sky falls through beneath unsteady feet but this must be flying. 
Fire and air lead together, even the caress electrifies the body, 
breath brings flames to scorched chest.
Water and fire clash raging war of flooding acid, searing scars into flesh,
water and earth muddied the thoughts, vision clouded, stable ground slick, 
caught in a landslide. 
Water, air... water, filled lungs gasping, collapsed onto muddied earth, air caught in throat and vision clouded,
acid scorched skin and burnt blood. 
Engulfed by each element and one with the earth//

Insomnia Days, Fitful Rest, and Overstuffed Flesh by Maria Granich

I've lain awake for years on end, connected to the fuzzy glow of television and my many feline companions that have purred and died by my side.
I've eaten decades worth of tomatoes, roasted and burned and brimming with their timeless juices; every night, a tomato.
Strange lamb, like an odd pied piper you've followed my feet, bayed at my thighs and left me to wander the endless stretch of meadows plagued by the white flowers: acacia, sureau, elderflower, jasmine.
O Holy Ghost, you've given me the gift of truth. It burns in my chest, coal-smolders, and aches so deep and so great my heart breathes to communicate it to any fool who'll listen.

For all these sleepless years, there has been an honest haze. Me and the haze, sharing an eight square meter apartment, sharing the toothpaste, sharing the air. We spent every night tip toeing and praying not to notice each other. A silent blessing for it's spoken curse. One night the haze took residence in my ribcage. One night the apartment was empty. One night the haze settled into my eyes my nostrils my limbs and so I became it and it became me and we were we and that was that.

Every part of me is half finished. I am spilled ink on paper. I am Frankenstein's masterpiece. I hobble on one leg with an ungodly limp and babble endlessly about life's awe, the sinful beauty that makes it unbearable. Up against the abusive haze and ache, the awe is a timid and tentative serpent with a double edged tongue. The vindictive mistress. The one who poisons the apothecary.
In the heavens, the awe and  I will dance and sing on hot coals for eternity onward, and of course, no rest.