Cycle of Life Pieces 2020
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Cycle of Life Pieces 2020
Cover Art by Isabella Chrisphonte
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Letter from the Editor It seems like we reached the end of the year far too soon. We have persevered through our classes and faced challenges and blossomed friendships without realizing it would all be cut short in the blink of an eye. As COVID-19 puts a pause on normal life, we have entered into an era of uncertainty. Yet, it is during times like these when creativity is most vital. No matter the global or personal circumstances faced, creativity can sprout through the cracks. The Literary Magazine is, and always has been, a means of expressing student creativity in whatever form it may take. This year, we spread our wings to encompass digital submissions, including songs, theatre performances, and spoken word poetry. If you want to watch student art come to life, check out the QR codes on our center spread. I wish to thank The Shield for helping to form a partnership between the arts, promoting new prompts and featuring some of the submissions that can be found in these pages as well. Pieces has also been blessed with an amazing tight-knit staff, willing to sacrifice weekends to lay out pages and brainstorm ideas. We made it to publication, even as these final days were spent laying out at home. Finally, to all the students who shared their time and talent: you are the seeds of this publication. Keep growing and tending to your creativity no matter what life brings. Even as we leave chapters behind, let us be reminded of the power of the arts to express cycles of life and help us start anew. Take care, Rachel Lechwar Editor-in-Chief
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Literary Magazine Staff
Editor-in-Chief Rachel Lechwar
Managing Editors Sephora Affa Katie Jubran
Editors
Hannah Dybel Genevieve Lehman Stacy Lubin Sydney Mohler
Sponsor
Jeanie Wilks
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Table of Contents New Beginnings Fulfillment of Dreams by Rita Albert Just Around the Riverbend by Abigail Voykovic Life in Color by Angelo Yap The Phoenix’s First Flight by Sophia Lopez New Beginnings, But Not For Me by Emily Schmitt Raindrops by Valentina Mosqueda Unsaid by Rachel Lechwar Moving as a Military Kid by Isabella Chrisphonte Kissed by Kaitlyn Reilly Blue Jay by Emily Huskey
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Relationships The Moon and I by Anonymous you by Hannah Dybel A Rose-Tinted Window by Vivian Tran Goodbye Road by Vivian Tran Mamihlapinatapai by Stacy Lubin Shattering Slowly by Anaje Austin Grasp by Vivian Tran First Heartbreak by Isabella Chrisphonte Unrequited Love by Francesca Anderson Lovely by Stacy Lubin Quiet by Reagan Anderson Art Gallery by Vivian Tran A Now Glass Barrier by Valentina Mosqueda Room of Glass by Katie Jubran Blossoming by Joan Moisenga This I Had to do by Melissa Molano Love at First Sight by Isabella Chrisphonte I’d Give My Life for You by Sydney Ibera Inseparable by Katie Jubran Throughout the Years by Gabriella Hitti
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Seasons Crossing Over by Bruce Van Jaarsveld Bridge by Kayla Connolly Stars are Only Visible in Darkness by Carlos Rodriguez The Season of the Sun by Katie Jubran Blushing Skies by Isabelle De Rienzo Light by Rachel Lechwar
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Endings La La Land by Katie Jubran Shrimp Boat by Jonah Brewer The Poet by Megan Cunningham The Artist by Megan Cunningham Gray House by Gabi Hitti Abandoned Class by Rachel Lechwar Bird on a Sidewalk by Emily Schmitt Phoenix Cycle by Connor Murphy
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Digital Pieces Voices by George Farmand Call Me When You’re Ready, Revelation by Sephora Affa Memory Box by Rachel Lechwar The Election: Ensemble Acting Scene performed by Rose Montana, Mark Pritchard, and Ria Saldajeno First Fireworks: Ensemble Acting Scene performed by Lily McCauley and Megan Cunningham Chicken Bones for Teenage Soup: Duet Acting Scene performed by Valentina Mosqueda and Sephora Affa
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Listen to my words: “When there is a prophet among you, I, the LORD, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams.” Numbers 12:6
“Just Around the Riverbend” by Abigail Voykovic
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LIFE IN COLOR by Angelo Yap
Upon a blank slate, I painted a vision, One without hope, one without faith. Color imbued, striking at the heart: One might say it was a miracle of life Though miles away from that light, Shining from its dull home. It grew, it shone, it strayed from home, No longer a black-and-white vision. Why must there be light? I saw it with a blind faith So clear of vibrant life. Is it a mirage, perhaps real at heart? The inside leaked red, like blood of the heart, Leaving its everlasting home Only to return with a new hue of life. Within it was a vivid vision Pulsating with lively faith That overcame the dimmed light. It was once a dark light That slowly radiated within the heart, And at once it was true faith. I built a Home. I painted a Vision. I found life. The deadness of Life, The shadows of Light, The blindness of Vision: It was never real at heart For it was clear from a home So vibrant that it was only a dreary faith. It was a simplicity of a florid faith Permeating in the grayness of life That I never grasped it in the dream of my home. It was by that undying light, By that glimmer of heart, That it was a reality shining in that vision. Upon a full faith, I painted a vision. It was one of life, one saturating the heart. The truth was an art of home: I have reached the light.
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“The Phoenix’s First Flight” by Sophia Lopez
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New Beginnings, But Not For Me By Emily Schmitt
Every day is the same Every day I walk through this pain, alone, because I am stubborn I do not believe in second chances, at least for myself. My sins and wrongdoings are loading themselves onto the shelf. That is my life’s story. Can I ever be forgiven? No, That is why I go through the motions every day, Why I stay by the sidelines. It’s because I cannot be forgiven, and As self-punishment, I shy away from the opportunity that every day brings. I hide my pain, the pain and longing to have friends, But I am too far gone, so I push away my happiness for theirs. Because by not giving in to these new beginnings, I am sparing them the pain and burden of ever knowing me.
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“Raindrops” by Valentina Mosqueda
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Unsaid
By Rachel Lechwar Hi, what’s your name? I feel bad I never asked Is this seat taken? What don’t you think will last? Has anyone ever told you That you always look so nice? Your smile catches onto me And you give the best advice. I have to know: are you okay? Your face is drawn and blank You’re sitting alone, come join us If I may be so frank. Do you dream in color Or see visions in advance? Or are they all chaotic blurs That make consciousness a trance? I’ve been meaning to ask Do you like me much at all? It seems a pesky worry but Would you sprint when I call? Is there anything you wouldn’t say Secrets squirming under skin? I have a few I’ve never told If we could just dive in. Don’t strike down your opinions When I haven’t heard them yet You know we love each other No reason now to fret.
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Hi, what’s your name? I feel bad I never asked I see you there alone and think Of all the words I trashed.
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“Moving as a Military Kid” by Isabella Chrisphonte
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Kissed
By Katlyn Reilly Stepping out she saw the glow Reached forward all in one flow Locked up in that place too long It called out to her Like a Blue Jay’s morning song Finally free One touch and it all had begun She tasted the freedom She felt the warmth As she was kissed By the sun
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“Blue Jay” by Emily Huskey
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The Moon and I
By Anonymous I have always been infatuated with the night sky. As far back as I can remember, I idolized the moon and stars. At 9 or 10, I sat tucked underneath a rose-covered quilt, talking to my mother about how much I loved the moon. She said, “Honey, the moon loves you too.” She doesn’t remember this conversation, but I do. I’ve carried this sentiment with me throughout the years. Nothing has made me love life quite as much as knowing that the moon loves me back. Even after I knew that it wasn’t sentient, even after realizing that a planet couldn’t love, I knew that the moon loved me. I wanted to embody it. I wanted that silvery glow and pale skin and dark waves. I wanted to be a woman that looked beautiful under the cold glow of a streetlamp. As I got older, my features developed. I was devastated to know that I had lighter hair and tanner skin and pinker undertones. I realized that pinks and oranges were made for me and that my eyes were more brown than green. I was golden, molded by the sun itself. I would never be the moon, and this fact shattered me into pieces as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. One December night, he and I went on a walk. I heard his shoes crashing against the concrete like night waves on sand as he ran to me to swipe me up and swirl me around. He was beautiful under the white light of the lamp post. And he was mine. The moon was mine and he loved me back.
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you by Hannah Dybel
you were my best memory you were my prized companion you were my favorite person but above all, you were my favorite creation you were my prized fiction you were my best fantasy.
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“A Rose Tinted Window” by Vivian Tran
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“Goodbye Road” by Vivian Tran
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Mamihlapinatapai by Stacy Lubin
5 seconds. They stared at each other for 5 full seconds. Each heart pounding, each mind racing, hands sweating and soul yearning for just one, just one, touch. A yearning so intense, they both felt like they could explode or cry or scream or die or all at once, and the only thing they needed to satiate this ever hunger for the other was just one small—but nothing. Both eyes averted, feigning interest on the peeling paint on the walls or the the creak of the chairs or the chatter of the people surrounding them. Forever waiting. Forever wanting.
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SHATTERING SLOWLY By Anaje Austin A bond that begins as friendship Until matured into a very different sort Of love. It would be like the seasons Of spring and summer, blossoming, blooming. Growing Warmer and brighter, our world seen through rose-colored glass. How vivid, how burning, so unexplainably sweet are these matters of the heart. The fire has cooled some, the love holding steadfast in my heart, But yours? I wonder sometimes if you miss our friendship, As I do, and the ease with which we once loved. Now, it is fragile at times, like glass, That makes up precious vases and trinkets, the sort That sit precariously, cracks and fissures growing As it grows more fragile in the frozen seasons. Our love is like the coldest of winter seasons, Stiff, unyielding, icy to the touch as icicles like glass. Longer and longer, colder and colder, sharper and sharper, they are always growing. As the trees lose their color, becoming barren and gnarled, with emptiness I’ve found friendship. Loneliness, uncertainty, silence and solitude are companions of a newer, more lingering sort, As they war furiously, torment endlessly, the dying embers of hope in this winter of my heart It cuts into my hand, splinters my soul, litters the floor, this shattered glass Of what was once a symbol of our love. Seasons Don’t change so suddenly. Yet now, there is a different sort Of spring in your eyes, but it doesn’t warm—it chills— my heart Because I know—as certainly as I once knew your friendship— That it is for another that the warmth and life in your eyes—that the pain in mine—is growing The distance is growing To worlds apart, as I try to see into your soul through this wall of ice, like glass. Only I can’t see you, because the glass is warped and uneven, damaged and broken. Friendship Cannot thrive here, in this winter of mine, while you are in seasons Of life and love, again. Your smile at her does not thaw—it burns— my heart. My wretched soul should know damnation, but this hell is of an unknown sort. I was never of the replaceable stock; our love never the sort To be stifled, choked, and felled by weeds growing In our midst. Our love was a rose, perfumed and beautiful, like the young girl whose heart You now hold—or is it your heart she holds? I wonder if she knows you are like glass In your cool, hard way. Will you treat her like fragile glass, until she chills and breaks in the seasons Harsher and colder? When she shatters, will you look upon her and say, “I’ll always value our friendship?” Of a parasitic sort is your affection; a poisonous thing, your friendship. The damage, the attack, growing within your loving victim, through every season’s Turn. You’ll steal the life’s blood from her heart, as you did mine, until empty and hollow, You’ll throw her aside Stepping around her splintered remains Like shards of glass.
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“Grasp” by Vivian Tran
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“First Heartbreak” by Isabella Chrisphonte
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Unrequited Love Francesca Anderson
How do you know you like someone? Is it the way your heartbeat quickens its pace when they look at you? Or the electricity that pulses through your body when you gently brush fingertips? Is it the sound of their voice echoing through your mind all night? Maybe it’s when they laugh at every joke you tell even though it isn’t funny. They gaze into your eyes and smile like you’re the sun and the moon and the whole galaxy to them. Is it when you realize they are the one true person that actually cares about you? That, no matter what, they will stand by you, because you are best friends, but that’s all you’ll ever be? That no matter how much you physically ache for their touch, they’ll always want someone else. not you. Is it when you know that you are totally and utterly screwed, but you’re in so deep you don’t care? And, even when they don’t reciprocate, you will never put another person above them because they are your world. But they’ll never know that. So you keep them in the back of your mind, longing to just die because life isn’t worth living without them. And you keep denying the feeling that’s coursing through your veins every single day. that wonderful, beautiful, forbidden feeling. I’m in love
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Lovely
by Stacy Lubin
Love. Honey stared into her distorted reflection in the bathroom mirror. Love. A burning tear streamed down her cheek. Love. Approaching footsteps, an opening door, a cold hand to her face. “I love you.” He told her once again. Another tear. He wiped it away before it could streak her pallid, bruised face. Love. Honey smiled, gently cupping his hand with hers. She continued to stare at their reflection. But that wasn’t her. And that wasn’t a man that stood behind her. Not a palm on her cheek, but a claw. Not a tear on her face, but blood. Love.
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“Quiet” by Reagan Anderson
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Memory Box Voices
T
by George Farmand
Call Me When You’re Ready, Revelation
by Rachel Lechwar
by Sephora Affa
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First Fireworks: Duet Acting Scene
performed by Lily McCauley and Megan Cunningham
Chicken Bones for the Teenage Soup: Duet Acting Scene
The Election: Ensemble Acting Scene
performed by Valentina Mosqueda and Sephora Affa
performed by Rose Montana, Mark Pritchard, and Ria Saldajeno
“Art Gallery” by Vivian Tran
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“A Now Glass Barrier” by Valentina Mosqueda
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Room of Glass By Katie Jubran
He once lived in a room of glass. Everything in his life would pass Through the clear walls for him to see Giving him the chance to be free. Then along came a lovely lass. He once lived in a room of glass. She stole his love so easily Taking away his chance to flee. Locked up, he’s hidden behind brick Red and dark and terribly thick. He once lived in a room of glass. Now there’s nowhere for him to pass. Broken love played an awful trick. She was fast, dangerous, and quick Finding many ways to surpass. He once lived in a room of glass. The dark brick has become the end Of the love life he tried to mend. A loud thought in her wicked mind Must have made her completely blind. He had no prayer to defend. The dark brick has become the end. Now through this hell he has to grind Searching for a new light to find. Brightness is eternally gone Days no longer begin with dawn. The dark brick has become the end To this he can sadly contend. Forever shall he be her pawn Losing power and losing brawn: The things with which people can fend. The dark brick has become the end. FINALPieces2020.indd 24
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“Blossoming” by Joan Muisenga
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This I Had to Do by Melissa Molano
You make all my thoughts go wild When usually they’d be nothing but mild. You make me want to go crazy And make my eyes become lazy Because all they want is to look at you. They are searching for something new. One day something appeared that was new And seemed, compared to the normal, wild, But still all I wanted to see was you. This longing was nothing close to mild. While everyone else was being lazy All I could do was over you go crazy. This feeling extended to places most crazy In ways that some would see as new, But somehow I was still too lazy And would only imagine going places wild. Somehow, by some miracle-not mild The first one to approach was you. As I sat and stared at you In a way that on the outside seemed crazy, I started to speak in a tone very mild. I could tell that to you this was nothing new But to me it surely seemed wild. Then I noticed-you walked over as if lazy. I began to worry that due to me being lazy I had done everything but attract you. Immediately after that thought I ran wild, Ignoring the way I looked so crazy, Ran toward the one and only you. I knew my words could be anything but mild. After the day’s failure nothing was mild. I decided I would never again be lazy. Although I did not get what I wanted I thank you. On that day I began something new, And I knew it would sound crazy, And some including me would say wild. Today I now go from mild to wild. I once was lazy but now am crazy. I decided to become a new version of you.
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“Love at First Sight” by Isabella Chrisphonte
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I’d Give My Life for You By Sydney Ibera It was more of an atmosphere, love The first breath felt like home It found its rhythm then it found me, entering my heart There it was engraved, deep within as roots, Her sacrifice, that is now my core “I’d give my life for you” was my first memory She who cradled me in her arms, felt close to my heart Why would she give me such a chance so young? Let me into her home Her heart not fully grown, but our intertwined roots Made us into one love, together, the union of our cores I had just touched eleven, she told me a memory Many years before I had said, “I’d give my life for you.” I knew the pain I caused her, I only survived through her never-ending love “Be careful!” She’d tell me, it resonates a haunting message in my memory The pain I inflicted on her reflected on my broken heart I let evil into my home, infecting my core Cutting those once intertwined roots That made us whole. The clouds that are now fog of my memory Hold the deepest of my secrets, there in my core I know I took for granted, her love I knew evil would be the knife to our roots, Yet I still watch my home get invaded, with pain inflicted upon my heart It never ends, and so it begins Is this okay? What I’m feeling in my core I want to leave this place, it’s not what I used to call home I have made a decision, approved by my heart Would they question? The angels once seen in my memory Would they carry me up or deep within the roots? Many thought it selfish, though I want to feel her near again, our conquering love Listen to the rhythm leave, my empty heart She’s not there, I’m not here, I’m everywhere but home I’m lost within my roots and my memory This forest is a jungle, no longer my core That feeling that is now gone, love As time reaches its edge, I travel with it Soon I will be home, by your heart I will give you the shelter of my love, and built from the roots It whispered in my core, “I swear I’d give my life for you,” my last memory.
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Inseparable By Katie Jubran
Our story begins With two unlikely friends: A duo of crime fighters Who save their city Day after day, week after week Year after year.
Contestant number one: The experienced and well-mannered country boy With the sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes; More knowledgeable than should be possible Coming from a man of his youth. Contestant number two: The reckless city boy who always manages to find trouble With the slicked black hair and the pearly white smile; Managing to be responsible during situations Regardless of what his past insinuates. Only can these two men Display such a stark contrast That causes their bond to grow even stronger. Their minds are linked through a series of invisible chains Delicately crafted and interwoven unconsciously With each moment they encounter and each word they share. Entire conversations can occur during comfortable spans of silence. The slightest twitch of the mouth reveals one’s mood. The tiniest movement of a hand, or lack thereof, tells a detailed story. A glance into the other’s eyes reveals everything at once.
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Every morning, they mount two identical mighty stallions Sporting matching blue-and-gold helmets and tan uniforms. They ride to all the same places, eat all the same foods; Stopping and starting as one unit, but also as two individuals. Their days come to a close at the same time And each day of rest is a day of relaxation for them both. Celebrations can only occur if both are present at the same party. Misfortunes are never hidden, but are instead conquered together. Their lives have more meaning now than they ever did before. Without one, the other is incomplete. They remain inseparable Forever.
‘‘Throughout the Years” by Gabriella Hitti
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“Crossing Over” by Bruce Van Jaarsveld
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B
R
I
D
G
E
by Kayla Connolly
Listen to the silence Be still in the moment Over the bridge you go In the water are fish Flowers are blossoming Pay attention to now Listen to the silence Be still in the moment
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“Stars are Only Visible in Darkness” by Carlos Rodriguez
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The Season of the Sun By Katie Jubran Blistering heat, burning rays of light, Sweat rolling down faces and backs. Fall is here, as unforgiving as can be And the sun peers down from his perch on the clouds. Stadiums are filled, fans scream and cheer, Skin burns at the lack of sunscreen. The cold weather has yet to come. This is the Season of the Sun. The temperature drops, jackets and gloves appear, Bodies start to shiver at the lack of warmth. Things have changed, and the light is dimmed, But the sun still peers down from his perch on the clouds. Outdoor activities are abandoned, houses provide shelter, People snuggle with furry cats and fuzzy blankets. Yet the creatures know the warmth and brightness are not gone. This is the Season of the Sun. Flowers begin to bloom, leaves return to the trees, Life reclaims its full and bright potential. As the warm temperatures return, the people know That the sun peers down from his perch on the clouds. Birds chirp and sing, deer frolic in the forest, Bears emerge from their long hibernation. Everyone basks in the light pouring from above. This is the Season of the Sun. Heat reaches its max, water is splashed, Bathing suits make their seasonal comeback. Every living thing on earth is fully aware That their sun still peers down from his perch on the clouds. Waves crash the shores, sunglasses are put to the test, Sand is molded into sizable figures and castles. The children play under the light of the rays. This is the Season of the Sun. The sun peers down all year long. It is always the Season of the Sun.
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“Blushing Skies” by Isabelle DeRiezno
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Light
By Rachel Lechwar
Crystal light ignites on a riverbank; Like stars they burn and they twinkle, Gone within a glimpse, Like words flitting from view, Teasing the tip of your tongue, Perhaps a mere reflection Of what blinds us from above. The crystalline fragments Grow from outstretched branches, A blinding ray contained Within a single gem, But a shadow cast And they are russet leaves As if the season blinks her eye For an instant. A gem mine appears In pockets of clovers And hopeful two-leafed lily pads With flecks of fool’s gold Never formed for greedy fingers, Never usurped Save from fools who claim an Unlucky charm. It will wilt and droop and dim Once plucked. Like marble statues, The angel incarnate stands, With a swooping beak and pristine Feathered wings, To deliver and return his children, And in his silence, he utters peace, But one twig snap, and the bubble has poppedNo wings to carry me Any higher than the treetops Above my head. These are glimmers that pass By unseen, Never bottled Or collected For later profit. The delicate crystal, Gems of the earth come to view And vanish In just one shift of light. FINALPieces2020.indd 36
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La La Land By Katie Jubran
Screeching tires, scraping metal, shattering glass, screaming people. The last four sounds that penetrated the ears of Owen Brie before he was met with a wave of unconsciousness. The sights, however, were more blurred in his mind. He vaguely remembered that he was on his way home to see his wife and kids, and that he had been running late…. Oh, and he remembered swerving to avoid hitting someone or something. And there his memories came to a halt. Where was he now? Owen didn’t know. He desperately wanted to know, but he was trapped within his own brain. This fuzzy wall separated him from conscious reality and unconscious la la land. The wall loomed over his thin, ghostly figure and extended into unknown heights. Nothing from the outside could penetrate the wall, except a few stray words here and there. If Owen recalled correctly, these had been the words of his wife. Danna was probably losing her mind over the amount of stress that she must be carrying on her shoulders. In fact, there was hardly a day when she wasn’t stressed in some fashion. Surely she had been frustrated when her husband didn’t arrive home in time for dinner. That frustration must have turned to worry as she waited far too long for his arrival. Then the worry probably escalated to panic after receiving a phone call from the hospital. As for their two daughters, Danna might have poorly attempted to shelter them from their father’s uncertain state. Who knows how successful she was in this attempt, but at least she tried. Owen prayed that his girls weren’t too afraid, but not even he was certain of his own condition. What if he was already dead? Lost forever in a limbo world between his body and the afterlife because he never got the chance to properly say goodbye. “I can assure you, you’re not dead.” Owen turned sharply in the direction of the voice. Wasn’t he trapped in his own mind? That voice definitely was not his. It was more baritone and more confident, and seemingly much wiser. “Who are you?” croaked Owen as a second body finally came into view. This man, or intruder, if that’s how he should be viewed, stood over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, tan skin, and black but graying hair. While the description of his appearance would lead one to believe he was a younger and very attractive male, he was neither of those things. His age fell somewhere between sixty and seventy, and his aging skin stripped him of his once-youthful beauty. The one aspect about him that hadn’t aged would probably never grow older. Royal blue eyes with the depth of two oceans appeared to hold the secrets of the world and more. “Aaron Ponseki’s the name, and if I’m correct,” Ponseki tilted his head in Owen’s direction, “yours is Owen Brie.” “H-how did you know?” Owen’s pale green eyes amplified the bewildered expression on his face. “How did you get here?” Ponseki gave a casual shrug. “I’ll be totally honest with you, Brie, I wish I knew. Maybe that’s the secret of this strange and anonymous land that we find ourselves trapped in.” “You said we’re not dead,” Owen recalled hesitantly. “How do you know?” “Gut instinct. After all my years of being a spy. I’ve learned to trust it.” Now a childlike awe spread across Owen’s face, replacing the confusion that had been there seconds before. “You’re a spy?”
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“Was a spy. Now I’m retired.” Ponseki sighed, but somehow that sigh held more than just a reminiscence of times past. “But, that’s a long tale to tell, and I’m afraid we’re running out of time.” “Out of time? Out of time for what?” “We’ve got a decision to make.” Ponseki placed a hand on Owen’s weak shoulder. “I’ve only ever been sent to places for a reason, and I believe I know what the reason is today.” Owen took a step back and stretched out his hands in a “stop” position. “Hold on just a second. Let me get this clear. We’re both here, in this la la land, but neither of us are dead. You think you have some sort of mission here, and it has to do with me. What kind of crazy world do we live in?” “I couldn’t tell you,” admitted Ponseki with a chuckle. “This la la land, as you call it, hasn’t been explored by any healthy man. I’ll tell it to you straight, Brie. You and I, by being in this land, are on the verge of death. Now, I can probably make it out of here on my own, but you need serious help.” The pounding of Owen’s heart reached his ears at that moment. He grabbed his chest, suddenly worried that he would never be able to touch his body again. “I’m about to die? And you think you can save me?” A firm nod came in reply. “Yes, if we hurry. But I need for you to decide. If you choose to return to life, there will be pain. I couldn’t begin to tell you how much pain, for I don’t think I’ve experienced something of that magnitude. Are you willing to accept this pain so that you can return to the family who needs you? Or do you choose to let it all slip away?” “I want to go back, but….” Owen, for the first time, allowed his eyes to lock with Ponseki’s. “But what’s going to happen to you? How can you save me?” Ponseki waved a hand in dismissal. “Neither of these things should worry you. I told you, I’ll be able to get out of here. And as for saving you,” he offered his first smile of the encounter, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Rubbing his eyes, Owen shook his head and blinked. “I must be dreaming. You’d have to use some sort of witchcraft to save me. We shouldn’t even be here right now.” Ponseki’s smile widened. It was a sincere smile, totally free of the cockiness or macho-ness that one would expect from a man such as him. “Listen, Brie. I’ve learned in my business that there’s always something new to learn about this world each day. Now, seriously, if you want to return to life, we really must get going.” Owen gulped. “Is there anything I’m supposed to do?” With a shake of the head, Ponseki took a step forward. He placed one hand on Owen’s heart and the other on his head. “Good luck, my friend. Enjoy life, and say goodbye to La La Land.” Eyes closed, body relaxed, Ponseki stayed perfectly still as he allowed a warm yellowish light to pulse through his body. Owen’s eyes widened as the light grew brighter and brighter until suddenly it shot from his body. Owen felt an unexplainable power strike his heart and his brain, and he forced his eyes shut before the brightness could blind them. The next thing he felt was pain. Excruciating pain in numerous parts of his body. Ponseki had warned him, but he was still unprepared just the same. Then other feelings hit him. A relatively soft mattress supported his body, and a thin sheet covered him. Then a warm hand squeezed his, with the other person’s fingernails almost digging into his skin. Owen took a slow breath, released it, and squeezed back. “Owen? Owen, can you hear me?” Danna breathed as she felt the unexpected movement.
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Her husband had been unresponsive for a few days now, and even the most optimistic doctors were skeptical that he would survive. Now Owen allowed his eyes to flutter open, and he offered his wife a fragile smile. He wasn’t sure if he had the energy to speak, but he forced himself to try. “Hi….” Next thing he knew, Danna had wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. It felt so good to be touched by her, to smell her light perfume and feel her soft hair on his face. “Thank God you’re alive,” she breathed into his ear. “Thank God.” Yes, bless the Lord that he was alive. It really was a miracle, thanks to God himself and“Doctor,” Owen forced out. “Doctor.” Danna pulled back from her hug and looked her husband in the face. “Are you in pain?” Owen nodded, and Danna used a quickness Owen could never understand to fetch a doctor to his bedside. “Mr. Brie, it’s good to see you awake,” greeted the doctor. “Do you need some more pain medication? How are you feeling?” “Aaron… Ponseki…. How… is… he?” Danna’s eyes filled with confusion and she crossed her arms. “Who’s that, honey?” “He’s another patient at this hospital, ma’am,” informed the doctor. Danna’s mouth opened. “How would he… how would you know who he is? Owen?” Instead of responding to the question, Owen looked to the doctor for an answer. The doctor hesitated. “I’m sorry to say that Mr. Ponseki passed away a few minutes ago. My condolences, Mr. Brie.” A numb tingling sensation suddenly covered Owen’s body. A day ago, he had not known Ponseki had existed, but now the end of his life mattered a great deal. Within a matter of what Owen assumed had been minutes, Ponseki had not just changed his life but had allowed it to continue. He brought the family man back to his wife, his kids, and to the joys of living. And where was Ponseki now? Gone. Never before had an action of such gravity affected Owen, and he supposed there would be no other event to match its severity. The man had said he could get himself out of that land. Owen finally realized what he had meant. Aaron Ponseki had escaped La La Land, but he had exited on the other side. The End.
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“Shrimp Boat at Sunset” by Jonah Brewer
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The Poet*
By Megan Cunningham
Once upon a summer’s day, free of grief, free of dismay, Two young souls were joined together in a kingdom by the shore As the sun was fading, setting, glowing orange on rocks and netting, Oh, these eyes of mine were wetting, wetting tears as we two swore Swore to love, to honor, cherish, respect, care for, and adore Each other forevermore We were happy, she and I, as the months and years went by For our love was pure and perfect, yes, me and my maiden fair Then my angel started fading, each breath more and more evading And in spite of all my aiding, aiding was my only care Her soul longed to leave to fly among the heavens in the air So I lost my maiden fair My wretched soul succumbed to grief, my joy felt stolen by a thief A bright world turned to gray, and nought could heal my aching heart In a stupor, lived I, aching, for my heart was far past breaking And I longed to cease my waking, waking leading to a start Of a day with naught but misery set to tear me apart Oh how I longed to depart To a tavern came I, sighing, after months of lonesome crying Set to drown myself in liquor, rather than the tossing sea But as the liquid filled me, burning, soon my mind, it took to churning And all the months of learning, learning how dark life could be Culminated; with a cry, I fell upon my trembling knee And my consciousness did flee In and out my vision faded, my sorrow never once abated Then my eyes opened with struggle, breaking from my trance with strife I at once broke down to crying, sensing I, at last, was dying But for mercy I was vying, vying that in the afterlife I would finally be united with my angel and my wife Whom had fled this cursed life
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And as my vision faded, I knew the time had come as fated And prepared to see this dark world nevermore Yet then I felt a hand caressing, a soft voice to me addressing And to God I lifted blessing, blessing and all the great thanks for Sending to guide me the woman I love, worship and adore By my side forevermore
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The Artist
By Megan Cunningham
My darling, don’t forget me when I’m gone Remember me with every ech’oing note My sweetheart, feel my touch in ev’ry song The ballads, epics, praise; to you I wrote Eurydice to my lost Orpheus If I had strength to strum I’d sing for you But soon these hands and lips will turn to dust This troubadouric journey must be through I promise I’m not leaving you for good I’ll see you someday, babe, and sing again I’d stay right here beside you if I could But take your time, we’ll be together then My muse, my heart, my angel, and my star Remember me, I’m loving from afar
*Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe
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Gray House By Gabriella Hitti
I was walking down on avenue way when outside the little gray house sat a man on a bench swinging away, his head dancing to a sad rhythm. His eyes were searching a golden band lifeless in his palm for any sign, any soft caress from a gentle hand, fingers fidgeting for a Lover’s touch, but a Lover faded. Unshaven face, darkened eyes, the fire snuffed out from the lonely gray house— he slumped back onto the bench, a dire attempt to erase the Space seated beside, but the Space stayed. The night’s blanket blotted with his tears began to wrap around him for comfort, a mother easing a child’s fears, a Lover replacing the Space, but Lovers fade and Spaces stay. Leaving this lament, I continued down avenue way, left the silent gray house, left the silent man on the bench. Come next day, I again passed the empty gray house, and the empty bench where Space stayed.
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Abandoned Class* By Rachel Lechwar
She was an organized teacher, say the lesson plans lettered on the dry erase board in neat columns; a reader too, says the line of books single file on the shelf; and a colorful teacher say the color-coded cards hanging from the wall, unspoken terms on their surface; but not a woman of tradition, say the posters and novels with bold figures painted in bold print. A classroom lived with her, say the empty desks with faded pencil lines and carved wood surfaces in tilted rows, and they worked hard, say the quilts that blanket every inch of the wall. And they had a feast, say the remnants of crumbs lodged in the carpet. Their time was near, says the calendar And plans sealed on the untouchable white board. And they spoke their minds, say the quotes that remain. It was a home here, say the pictures on the wall. Something went wrong, says the silent room that hears no more discussion. Cabinets stocked with supplies say they were never unprepared; zip grades on the desk say they meant to come another day. And the quilts? They are still strewn around the class like unfinished fragments of a story— a school flag, a stoic computer screen, and an abandoned bag, a graveyard resting on the counter. Something went wrong, they say.
*inspired by Ted Kooser’s “Abandoned Farmhouse
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Bird on a Sidewalk By Emily Schmitt
Tweet! A high pitched cry of a baby bird. It’s calling for its mother. What it doesn’t know is that all the birds are gone, Along with the dogs and cats, And the sky is a dark grey. The cracks in the sidewalk give way to little buds. The rumbling thunder draws near, And the rains start pouring down, Down, down, and hit the ground with a loud thud.
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After the storm, a rainbow appears It shines on the empty buildings and streets of the old cities, Now long gone. Little plants pop up in the cracks, The buildings crumble, And man and all his creations turns back to the dust from which it came. And the little bird finds more life, Sprouting from a crack in the sidewalk.
“Phoenix Cycle� by Connor Murphy
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