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.
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.
By Khoo Yi Xuan My white shirt had started to smell like incense.
By Soh Yong Xiang if the rain keeps us inside, or my will doesn’t last past the main door
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;
By Shaun Loh After decades, from white to marble, they seemed even older than Methuselah.
By riel i spend my whole life waiting.
By Alice Shen Why must I be like you?
By Emmy Kwan puddles of dripping water clanking honks in dense traffic mornings could not be any more dreary as December crept near.
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
By claire lee To live, to die, belies a sort of beauty and melancholy. The low rumble of thunder that makes a dog shudder and a flower bloom.
By Chua, Richelle Aubrey Ang put me in a petri dish and watch the wounds fester, —psychedelic episodes turned season four
By Chua, Richelle Aubrey Ang … see the flesh underneath, hemispherical kiwi slice, perfectly rough on the surface.
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
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.
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.
By riel i always have something crawling under my skin.
By Tang Sumi if you walk on the surface of venus, you can see the sun setting forever.
By rui ho buy a white dress for the confessional. knee-length, no higher.
By rui ho when all this is over, the world will remember —