MA Program – Confluence

While She Was Somewhere Being Free

by Ariana Abadian-HeifetzPosted on April 15, 2021April 15, 2021Creative NonfictionMA Program

I find myself walking a paved road in the middle of a baraat, a groom’s wedding procession. It resembles a parade that will eventually pour through a small Indian village leading to a clearing where the bride and her family wait.

Bibliophiles: Alone, Together

by Annie BurkyPosted on March 29, 2021March 26, 2021Creative NonfictionMA Program

I came to the city to write. I hoped to find a bustling literary community to feed my spirit and offer me some kind of identity in a dizzying mass of humanity.

Mr. Adventure

by Alex AtesPosted on March 18, 2021March 18, 2021FictionMA Program

James calculated that the farthest he wanted to go was four hours by car. Eight hours of driving roundtrip. After his parents left for their fall conferences, he could hit the road.

Aposymbiosis

by Ben TurtelPosted on December 9, 2019FictionMA Program

I had only ever thought about it as my shadow. I was in middle school when I first noticed it.

Lonely Plus One

by René Sharanya VermaPosted on October 18, 2019October 18, 2019FictionMA Program

I hate drinking games. Why do you need words to consume alcohol? Why do you need alcohol to consume words?

Firefighters Never Hesitate

by Tashina Lee EmeryPosted on October 8, 2019October 8, 2019Creative NonfictionMA Program

The firefighters carried that extra baggage in their already twenty-plus-pound sacks on each and every trip. Their backpacks held their survival gear doubled in the weight of their historical heartaches, with their generational trauma in tow.

House

by Lily Levy-EpsteinPosted on September 25, 2019April 20, 2021FictionMA Program

I already miss home. As expected, moving was a mistake. This house is big and empty. I don’t like big houses; my mother knows that. They make me feel small.

Hearing Sadness

by Kaylea ForsythePosted on September 16, 2019April 20, 2021FictionMA Program

My therapist, a woman in her mid-forties with short hair and small spectacles, clears her throat and finds eye contact with uncomfortable politeness. I admit that I enjoy watching how therapists bend over backward to maintain composure, “Jess, I think you might be Bipolar.”

Outputs from print(dialogue)

by Blair SimmonsPosted on September 3, 2019April 20, 2021DramaMA ProgramPoetry

"Isn't that scotland. / Don't blame the tweed. / You have never seen a fabric before. / I think it should be our fleece. / I appreciate fabric. / That is my fleece. / I am interested in having wool." A series of computer-generated mini plays.