Issue 1 – Feb 2021

We’re proud to present the inaugural issue of Amber: The Teenage Chapbook, featuring eighteen Singaporean writers aged fifteen to nineteen. Wander through the city with churning thoughts in rochelle lee’s “SUNRISE.” and Tang Sumi’s “walking, unmoored.”. Explore facets of loss in Isabelle Lim’s “Today Is A Good Day To Die”, Emmy Kwan’s “funerals” and Khoo Yi Xuan’s “The Times We Shared”. From streetsides to dusty plains, dining tables to laundrettes, classrooms to confessionals, these twenty-five pieces are a journey of fierce, turbulent emotion. We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did.

Alternatively, read the PDF version here, or read the individual pieces below.


A Student’s Guide to Gravity

By Gabrielle Kurniawan Do I hate you? she wonders, and as the thought flashes across her mind, it’s like a switch is pulled and the universe shifts into acceleration and it’s just the two of them standing in an empty class.

Today Is A Good Day To Die

By Isabelle Lim Of all things the world can give her after everything it has taken from her, Megan does not expect it to be a confession.


sunday morning

By Soh Yong Xiang if the rain keeps us inside, or my will doesn’t last past the main door

Cloud Nine

By Liang Li Yee you wait / for your turn to ascend / into fairyland


By Rochelle Lee with every sunrise, you leave a sunset behind.


By Rochelle Lee Her love is steamed buns for breakfast, cradling tender bits of pork and hard-boiled yolks like open, blossoming hands;

first hunger

By Emmy Kwan puddles of dripping water clanking honks in dense traffic mornings could not be any more dreary as December crept near.

the merlion

By Kirtan Savith Kumar in her hut by the sea, the weaver spins legends tales centuries-old, wandering the remnants of time


By Athena broken pottery in the desert find each other through the shifting sands and in delirion and loneliness we saw each other as liquid gold

The Stump

By Tristan Tan its lines rise and cascade marks etched into memories


By Emmy Kwan funerals are pretty compared to deaths grim reaper set his tent at our doorstep

3 a.m.

By Silvia Suseno too late at night we are perched in front of a washing machine you are giddy with boyish glee about how it spins.

walking, unmoored.

By Tang Sumi left in the moon-soaked night, the city turns to ink. a change but not a reversal. a spectre made solid.


By Tang Sumi left behind, we carve out the empty spaces of ourselves, emotional inertia filling in the afterimages of other pictures.

—sunset on venus—

By Tang Sumi if you walk on the surface of venus, you can see the sun setting forever.