Cosumnes River Journal
Vol. 14, No.1
- A New Friend by Alex Williams
- Something in the Way She Doesn’t Move by Brandon Karcher
- A Brief History of My Most Defining Moments by Camille Nye
- An Ode to My Favorite Compound by Chio Drew
- A Quiet Tap by Jacob Saca
- The Monet Family in Their Garden at Argenteuil by Julia Marcotte
- Dreams by Matthew Ochoa
- Karachi’s Coolest Mom by Omar Khayam
- Behind Closed Doors by Aidan McDowell
- I Will Never Know Your Name by Brandon Karcher
- It sucks to have a po’m that’s due tonight by Brandon Karcher
- Living in a Dream by Brenna C. Saunders
- Deaf Jam by Chio Drew
- Brooding Babbler by Omar Khayam
Essays and Fiction
A New Friend
Getting out of the house seemed like a good idea until I realized we were going to a sports bar on a Friday night. It was just past eight o’clock, yet we had to pay an entrance fee and show our IDs just to get in. Luckily, I had a few spare bills in my wallet for “just in case” situations, although typically it wouldn’t be for this scenario.
Something in the Way She Doesn’t Move
At 8:33 in the morning, he looked at the register clock and clenched his brow. Heidi was three minutes late. He figured she was adjusting her apron in the kitchen in back and didn’t think much of it. She’d be out soon enough, for all the good it would do him. In another two minutes or less, she’d be at it again, adjusting her apron, her bra, pretending to be bending down to open the refrigerator, but taking an inordinately long time to do it.
A Brief History of My Most Defining Moments
A silky emerald-green dress brushes against my ankles. My heels click against the pavement, and I brush loose curls behind my ear. I’m surrounded by people dancing under fairy lights; the energy of everyone around me has me caught up in a whirlwind. In the back of my mind, I’m just thinking about how I’m going to miss being seventeen. Sitting in an old…
An Ode to My Favorite Compound
Miller Park-hunting for shells right off of the shore, as my heels gingerly sank into the sand. At that tender age, I didn’t know much, but I knew that water was home to amazing things.
Santa Cruz-my first time both witnessing and contemplating just how far the waters of the world reached.
A Quiet Tap
The sun hung low in the sky as Matthias made his way down the familiar road toward the tavern. His wooden cane was in front of him tap–tapping to let him know what was there. The town had just finished this year’s harvest, and the whole town was abuzz about the upcoming festival. Matthias could hear children running this way and that, all chattering excitedly about what they would do during the festival. It was like the whole town was more alive, like everyone wanted time to go faster.
The Monet Family in Their Garden at Argenteuil
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The heat that August had been unbearable, but that day, in the shade of the plum trees, it seemed a bit more forgiving. A cool breeze floated up off the Seine and blew through the garden, where the chickens sputtered around, pecking at seeds and grass.
A space fills with distant pinpricks of light, drifting in a dark void, unable to return. Afraid and lost, my veins run cold and slow. Then it wells up inside me, a force starting from the depths of my being, filling me with paralyzing sludge. Then as quickly as the horror began, I awake.
Karachi’s Coolest Mom
Unlike the other moms in Karachi, Saba’s mom was cool. She would let Saba smoke her stash and would even let Saba join in on the parties when her friends were over. Saba liked that. No other high schoolers were partying with their parents. Saba remembered being 12, walking into her mom’s room.
Read more… or Listen here…
Behind Closed Doors
“Dance for me!”
The powerful body fell onto the metal floor.
A dream come true,
but her soul was crushed.
Too many times she was tossed
I Will Never Know Your Name
I will never know your name
for you were never given one.
You will never know my shame
for what’s done is done.
It sucks to have a po’m that’s due tonight
It sucks to have a po’m that’s due tonight
The night before turkey to be eaten
I’m not certain I will make my midnight
If you’ll permit me to be a speakin’
Living in a Dream
A fragile breath
with a single falling tear.
Denial rang strong
as his body trembled,
sand shifting beneath him.
Feel the beat
reverberate through your system.
Tap your feet
to match the rhythm.
Nod your head,
as if you know
On a branch on a tree
sat a babbler.
Sad for reasons only babblers know.
T’was until she was met by a caterpillar,
the babbler knew no way out of her woes.
Now sits the babbler happy,
tummy full, with a smiling beak.
The babbler flutters off her branch,
Some of our writers, from left: Omar Khyam, Julia Marcotte, Brnadon Karcher, and Aidan McDowell
The Cosumnes River Journal is a magazine of literature and art.
We are not accepting unsolicited submissions at this time.
We hope you enjoyed these words.
Editorial Team: Nadia Rehman, Rose Spisak, and Heather Hutcheson