BrainScramble Magazine. The world through our eyes. Toronto & Berkeley. Latest BSToronto i17: MEND, out now.

  • Somebody Please Check In On Evan Peters – The Dystopia of True Crime

    By Elisa Penha Normal People Scare Me. Tumblr Sexyman and school shooter Tate Langdon of American Horror Story: Murder House dons his soon-to-be iconic t-shirt with this once eerie, now pretentious text as he takes a melodramatic therapy session with his girlfriend’s father.  Evan Peters is a powerhouse. He has put on a wide array…

  • Malevolence

    Malevolence

    I cannot shake the feeling that someone is watching me.  It is half past midnight, and my window is open, letting a chilled waft of air, saturated with the nostalgic scent of fall, gradually fill my room. I am lying under the heavy blankets of my bed, growing increasingly aware of how hot my body…

  • These Horror Movies Don’t Need to Scare You—and Why That’s Okay. 

    These Horror Movies Don’t Need to Scare You—and Why That’s Okay. 

    The worst part of watching horror movies isn’t the disturbing imagery, loud jumpscares, or even the bad acting. It’s when your friend nudges you during the rolling credits and says, “that wasn’t even scary!” Usually, that’s what makes or breaks a horror movie for the average theater-goer. If the film failed to scare them, it…

  • Untitled

    alloe mak ive always thought of us as a sort of impossible solar system in which each of us is simultaneously a sun and a planet; endlessly and helplessly orbiting each other. sometimes, when i eat next to you at lunch, sit next to you in the classroom, lay next to you in bed, watch…

  • A counterculture narrative on adoption.

    There’s only so many times I can listen to that “Where are you from?” question until something has to give. I think about the space, the city, and the country where I live now, and the places in my past. I know these things. In my story, they’re easy parts. What’s more difficult are the…

  • I am a narcissist.

    Every counselor I’ve ever talked to has told me that I’m very humble. Every teacher I’ve ever had knows me as quiet and unassuming. Many of my peers would describe me as mysterious and out-of-the-spotlight.  I don’t really try to be. I don’t intend to act humble, I just say what I believe. I don’t…

  • Foreign Appetite – A Short Story

    Foreign Appetite – A Short Story

    The instance I awoke from surgery I wailed loudly from the inscrutable pain at the doctors who—after inspection—said nothing was physically wrong with me.  But I knew from that intense hunger in my chest that something was off—that a new heart was not the only thing put inside me. I couldn’t sleep for almost the…

  • Cultural Impermanence

    Cultural Impermanence

    I was an avid reader and started at the age of 2. At first, my books consisted of illustrations of cartoon people and animals but soon evolved into words imprinted on a tiny book. Despite the differences between the two, they all shared a similar trait: being engraved in Chinese. My first language growing up…

  • blue butterfly.

    blue butterfly.

    in the midst of summer, i lay where the mossy grass paints my shoes green,  and the warm winds breeze through my silhouette, lays the most riveting creature i’ve ever seen. that day on july 16. your wings grace my cheek so lovingly, the touch so homely, as you brush my hair back and wipe…

  • a beautiful plea

    This beautiful plea knows the bounds  of this page. The blood that you gave me that flows Through my suffocated skin, Is like waterfalls through a poisoned pool. Black and blue and dead all over. I am writing and painting pictures and poems for you to see. Come and take a walk through my pathetic…

  • TIFF ‘22: A POST FESTIVAL REFLECTION

    By Charles Liu and Celina Tang Disclaimer: Mild spoilers The following is a transcript of a conversation by Charles Liu & Celina Tang discussing their highlights and lowlights from their experiences at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival . AWARDS (to note): The Platform category consists of 8-12 films that highlight bold voices. Movies in…

  • The Autumnal Equinox

    Dear September 24, 2022,  I hope you’re getting this in time. This letter has been long overdue.  Even in the midst of summer, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Just a month ago, sunscreen slathered and bug bitten, I pretended to indulge in freedom—in fantasy. I soaked in lake water until it reached my bloodstream,…

  • Autumn Rain

    In my room I wait, hopeful eyes turned up to a hopeless abyss. I sit at my window, as silent and still as the glass pane through which I gaze. My hands, busy on my lap, play a silly little game of twisting and pulling—a game that shall never be won or lost, so long…

  • Garden Room Reflections

    If I had a garden of mirrors  would one tell me what I look like would one tell me what to do would one tell me if I mumble too much would one tell me  my faults would one tell me my future would one tell me how to stick it to the man (properly)…

  • Female Rage in Modern Media ; Why it Feels so Familiar

    Female Rage in Modern Media ; Why it Feels so Familiar

    “…Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl  Above is an excerpt from the iconic Amy Dunne…

  • Everyone Is Depressed And Nobody is Normal: a Study in Self Diagnosis

    To pretend to be a bad vocalist, one has to be the opposite first. You cannot purposefully exaggerate an off-key tune unless you know which notes to butcher in the first place. On television, when a character decreed an awful musician proceeds to belt out unpleasant sounds to an echoing laugh track, the actor at…

  • Addressing Your Thoughts

    I have a stack of shoeboxes in my room that contain things to make me cry. Cry, and smile, and reflect, and experience what seems like every feeling I may have ever felt. One is a box of letters––the second shoebox in the stack that sits next to my bookshelf. And no, this is not…

  • Childhood Closure; A Personal Story

    When I was little, I dreaded art class. I hated the walls of the basement, I hated the brushes and ink and markers, and I hated the paint-stained sink. I hated how my colours would look murky and bland, and how my awkward brushstrokes looked like child’s play instead of the next Van Gogh painting.…