Our Words Can Hurt & Heal You

Centennial High School’s Literary Magazine

Our Words Can Hurt & Heal You

Sponsored and developed by the Fall 2017 Creative Writing Class 1

Our Words Can Hurt & Heal You Volume 1 Fall 2017

Literary Magazine Submissions Google Classroom Code

Our Team

hav2ooa

Yehoon Ahn Alexia Alves Brandon Brown Ralph Brumleve Anika Bryant Riley Buoy Alexander Dalton Courtney Downs Tristan Elzy Jordan Hansen Lauryn Henry Mona Jawad Dylan McBride Noah Parks Isabel Scott Huyanna Siegler Benazjia Vander Allena Wilson

Please feel free to submit throughout the next semester.

The next literary magazine will be published in May 2018.

Creative Writing Club will meet every other Monday starting January 22, 2018 in room 203 Bring any of your own writing you might have.

Contact Ms. Green for more details at greenli@u4sd.org

Adviser

Lindsay Green 2

Table of Contents Poems “Matricide” by Yehoon Ahn “Diamante” by Anonymous “Dear Ex-Lover” by Serena Claflin “Ink Stains” by Sydnee Tuggle “Dance” by Sydnee Tuggle “Possession” by Sydnee Tuggle “Not a Battle, A War” by Courtney Downs “Ten Things About Me” by Paige White “Neighboring Eyes” by Mona Jawad “Midnight Merengue” by Mona Jawad “Creation Compared” by Mona Jawad “Untitled” by Ralph Brumleve

4 4 5 6 6 6 7 8 10 10 10 11

Stories “Missing Heart” by Anonymous “Chapter One: The Death of Zelda Atkins” by Anonymous “The Real Rainbow” by Dylan “Lugiamasterbrony” McBride “Aftermath” by Anonymous “H.E.R. Story: Way Too Young” by Anonymous “The Golden Knight” by Anonymous LAFP Chapter 13 by Huyanna Siegler “The Phoenix” by Alexander Dalton “Flowerpots” by Anonymous “Rosewood” by Anonymous

12 14 16 19 21 23 28 30 32 37

Art “Just a Rose” by Isabel Scott “What Are You So Scared Of?” by Jane Liao “Negative Space Photographic Print” by Lyric Newbern “Linocut Print” by Lyric Newbern “Untitled” by Lauryn Henry “Winter in Manehattan” by Dylan McBride “Untitled” by Alexander Dalton “Love and Pain” by Anonymous “Just a Rose” by Isabel Scott

Cover 5 6 7 12 14 27 34 35 3

Poetry “Matricide” standing on a hill looking down, I admire mother nature mighty oak forest that dwells in the mountains fresh breath that will nurture slope of the land forms the fountains Looking down from the mountains I conclude there must be a creator resting in the green nests of life that illude better healing than that of a medical doctor mighty mountains stripped of their life robbed, destroyed and exploited showing bare ironstone that is made into a knife comes back to exploit even more of their destructed mother nature cries in vain her tears turned into poisonous rain

by Anonymous

-Yehoon Ahn “Diamante” Summer warm, inescapable confusing, angering, comforting sun, sweat, frost, snow freezing, shivering, nerve wracking stupid, uncomfortable Untitled

by Anonymous

Winter

-Anonymous 4

“Dear Ex-Lover” Letter one: Dear Ex Lover, Youve changed so much.

You used to say you loved me and that I meant everything to you.

Now I mean nothing.

You probably wish I were dead.

Letter two: Dear Ex Lover, I take so many pills at night so that I can sleep.

My anxiety and depression take over, I think to call you then I remember you hate me now Everyone hates me now.

Why'd you have to do this to me?

Why did you hurt me ?

Why did you lie?

Letter three: Dear Ex Lover, I still miss and love you very much.

You broke me.

I've lost myself.

You wouldn't let me write.

You wouldn't let me sing to you.

I wasn't aloud to have guy friend.

You'd get mad if I felt jealous.

Why did you want to change me?

Did you ever truly love me?

-Serena Claflin

What Are You So Scared Of?”

by Jane Liao

5

“Ink Stains” Littering my mind are the ink stains on porcelain Only you Can pull me up Can pull me out Only you can hear my shout When we collide it's like a deadly toxin Needle to skin painting the sky Luminous but not The paint that lasts forever Spills over porcelain So fragile as if it’d crumble Like the pages Oh so thin I feel your pain But you only gain the Ink stains on your skin I'll never forget The ink stains on porcelain You inflict pain Such beautiful pain So you won't forget Your better days The depth of the meaning You chose your canvas Such travesty can only be found in the buzzing of the moment you clench in pain but without pain there is no gain

-Sydnee Tuggle

“Dance” For heaven's sake my mother would say Do what makes your day Shine brighter than the stars so high Laugh so loud you almost cry And most of all, dance.

Dance until your feet blister and burn Dance like nobody will ever see you Dance until you are panting and pleading for air But most of all, Even if you can’t dance, Do something to make your day.

-Sydnee Tuggle

“Possession” Words have power A word can be the end all Of an entire relationship Once words are spoken, They are no longer yours They belong to the sun and the moon The air and the audience But not you No Never you.

Your words are never truly yours Your thoughts on the other hand, Those are yours An endless treasure A secret monologue Nobody can take But your words They don’t belong to you.

-Sydnee Tuggle 6

“Not a Battle, A War” It may not have been there, before I was born.

But when I was born, it started. Started even if you weren’t aware. Still continues now. You both assume that I don’t think about it all the time or that I know you both hope that I’ll say something that will have me live with you. But I say no more. No more hopeless fighting and biting, no more clawing and tearing, no more secret words or backstabbing. No more of this brutal war. And that’s what this is. A war. Not a battle, but a war. There may be battles that you fight, but a war nonetheless. And the battles I have seen, not to mention heard, are enough to make me consider to step in or throw a damn grenade into a battle and make my earnings in this one long war.(Pause) When I was little you could fight the battles without me worrying. Now those days are gone. And you shouldn’t worry too much longer. Because you know I’ll be moving on.

While, more than ever, becoming stronger.(Pause) So now your little girl isn’t what she was on that very first dawn. She’s a soldier now. A soldier in training maybe, but a soldier still. And when this soldier comes home, you’ll know that the scars she has received will just show you how much she has survived. Where some you can’t see, you’ll wonder if they are from you or from something else. Since you know she’ll never tell you, you think that you can hope for the best and wait till this battle ends. But that’s the thing about it.

This is war. Not a battle, but a war.

-Courtney Downs

Photo

by Anonymous

7

“10 Things About Me” Fear is dangerous.

The fact that you think you are being threatened, But what we don't realize is we are our own threat.

Fear is like being tied to a tree That's why I feel stuck As I struggle in defeat I cry at night Then when you see me I fake like everything’s alright I feel as if I'm running jumping And dodging my emotions At one point I was happy really happy but one afternoon I took a smack in the face Reality finally took it’s hit and ran with it Part of the problem is the people I miss The people I wish I could see every day The people I wish lived right across the way How is it the people you love the most always got to live so far away?

Negative Space Photographic Print

by Lyric Newbern

I don’t talk to many people Because if I get hurt one more time I might just crash and burn If I leave or they leave I’m still going to be hurt Then they’ll be added to the people I miss

8

“10 Things About Me” continued I was hungry I was tired as we pulled up to Taco Bell Anxiety flew through the window and the tears started to fall I had double the homework that night I was thinking too hard I was thinking about how I want all A’s but it wasn’t going right I understand I have good grades but they could also be better My escapes from the world are what keeps me going I sing, I dance, I run, I sing the songs that come to mind I write songs that I can claim as mine I dance like I have ants in my pants I make dances that I can call my own I run because I can I know I have legs for a reason and this is how I overcome the stress of life

-Paige White

Linocut Print

by Lyric Newbern

9

“Neighboring Eyes” Why should thy feathers match the sweeping sky And snatch the raptured gaze of men away While no matter quite how swift I do fly From my great wings their eyes do ever stray Though I may shine with midnight ebony For them it is not such a thing as sweet As thy ballad's elusive reverie My cawing but to them a grating bleat And I rue the day that they caught a glance Of you, by the berries with bright red hues And of your whirling, spinning, breathless dance Upon which bards of old content to muse You, forever an omen of good dreams And I of mad grievers, nightmarish screams

-Mona Jawad

“Midnight Merengue” Where the sky shimmers with twilight blue The wind steps down with dancing shoes Upon a staircase of painted glass Slides down the banister to the seeding grass And rushes down the blooming meadow halls To waltz on the shine of waterfalls She peels ribbons from the breath of clouds To tie on the trunks of oaks so proud, And laughs and rustles the wigs of trees As she tangos on the northern breeze And twirls in dresses of swirling leaves

-Mona Jawad

Photo

by Mona Jawad

“Creation Compared” An empty field, made barren by the wind Like a pristine white page, still and waiting For the glint of the shovels and rakes raised Shining in the sun as the silver tip of a pen One hopes to inscribe the seeds of earth The other draws in moonlit words While sweat runs down skin and shirts And water sinks into sheets of tilth To bring the first sprouts of spring Warm as newly printed paper sheaves

-Mona Jawad

10

“Untitled” 40 at a time they carelessly sent them in, 40 to break the front lines, 40 to die for beliefs not their own.

None ever returned, until he did and so battle by battle, war by war, 39 brothers at a time.

Atriox was born and with every victory, his legend and his hatred of the covenant grew.

And they tried to banish him, and with everything we know about the covenant’s thousand-year history.

Atriox was the first to defy the covenant and survive.

We are just one ship and a old one at that, but here we are, thirty years past what anyone could ask of us. Our war is gone, the lives we had are gone.

The worlds we knew have moved on, and now all that we may have is a duty that defines us battle after battle, fighting side by side together.

Where you see half a crew, I see family courage and a thousand heroes who swore to fight their way through hell before they’d ever, EVER turn their backs and run.

And where you see one old ship, I see home, and that is always worth fighting for.

-Ralph Brumleve 11

“Missing Heart” Once, in a land far away, there lived a prince. He was the youngest of three other girls. He was 18, his eldest sister was 34, and she was the current ruler. Her name was Syntasia.

Then there was the twins, Ella and Bella. They had long orange hair. Ella’s hair was always tied back into a high ponytail, and Bella’s hair went down to her shoulders. They both had big green eyes. They were 24.

The young prince’s name was Ren, and he loved his family. Ren had black hair like his older sister and green eyes like the twins.

Syntasia had long black hair that went down her back and stopped near her feet. She had blue eyes. She was graceful and held an air of mystery but was a kind and just ruler. The twins looked the same but acted different: Ella was mischievous and always getting into trouble. She loved adventure and the feeling of a rush.

Bella stayed to herself and spent most of her time in the royal library and was the second smartest person in the land after her eldest sister.

Ren loved animals. He had one the biggest hearts in the kingdom, and everyone adored him.

One day, Ren was walking around the castle garden looking for his personal butler Storm and his maid KT. He grew up with them, and when time came for them to get a job, he offered for them to work for him. They were more than happy to work for their best friend; his older sisters didn’t mind either. If Ren was going to be honest with himself, ever since he was 16, he had had crush on his best friend Storm. He didn’t know if it was love or platonic, so he asked his older sisters, and they told him. They didn’t care about the fact that Storm was another male, as long as Ren was happy. While Ren was lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see that both his friends were sitting in front of him in the middle of the rose patch. He finally came to when he heard them calling his name.

He ran towards them. “Hey guys, what are you doing sitting out here?” he asked his two friends. They looked at him, then at each other.

“We were just talking about you, short stuff,” Storm said, leaning on him. The thing about Storm was that he was taller then the both of them. Storm had black hair and red eyes that looked as if he was looking through you. He was a laid-back and childish person who was also very protective of his friends, though most thought of him as evil or a demon because of how he looked.

12

“Missing Heart” continued Storm ignored these people of course, but sometimes when he got angry, he did seem a bit demonic.

“About me?” Ren asked.

“Yeah, it’s your birthday coming up, right?” KT asked.

“Oh yeah..” Ren realized.

“Wow, good job. You forgot your own birthday.” KT said, rolling her eyes. KT is the same size as Ren. She was darker skinned than the boys and a bit smarter than the both of them.

She was very smart-mouthed but didn’t get into any trouble, unlike her two friends.

“We were only talking about what to get you,” Storm said, picking at the roses.

“But we aren’t telling you what we got you,” KT said. Ren’s face fell, and he looked down at his hands.

“Sorry buddy, but we are strong as rocks. You aren’t getting anything out of us,” Storm said, messing with a rose then pricking his finger and yelping, putting the finger in his mouth.

“Yeah, as strong as a rock,” KT said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh no, are you ok?!” Ren asked, grabbing Storm’s arm.

“Heh, I’m fine. No need for you to worry,” Storm said. Storm pulls his arm away from Ren’s grip and sticks his finger in his mouth.

“Don’t put your finger in your mouth! That’s disgusting!” KT says. Storm rolls his eyes and takes his finger out his mouth looking away from the both of them.

“Anyway Ren, why don’t you head inside? I’m about to go help with diner and storm is about to head in and start cleaning,” KT said.

“Alright, see you guys during diner,” Ren said, getting up and walking off. As he was walking, he ran into his two older sisters.

“Where you headed?” Ella asked.

“On my way to the dining hall,” Ren said. They nodded and all headed to the dining hall together.

To be continued…

-Anonymous

13

“Chapter One: The Death of Zelda Atkins” I propped my back up against the hard cold brick wall of Andy's Brews, the local bar. I could feel the callous bumps in the strong red clay digging into the bare skin not protected by my tight red dress. I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my small hand purse and put one in my mouth and lit it. The dark smoke filled my lungs and made them burn. I tried not to choke as I smoked the death stick stained red with my lipstick. Smoking was high on the list of things I didn't like, but I knew it would calm George down and making him happy meant more to me than my health. The last thing I needed on a night like this were his thoughts pushing their way into my mind. I dropped the partially smoked cigarette on to the ground before crushing it like a bug with my shiny black stiletto and making my way to the bar door. The inside of the bar was filled with the hustle and conversation of the people happily eating inside. I scanned the surrounding tables looking for his identification markers.

Straight brown hair, green eyes, and a red tie, that's what his Late-for-a-Date profile had said. As I looked, I made eye contact with two men sitting together at the bar. They had strong, chiseled faces and bulky bodies. I let it pass. I was a young woman in a tight dress; of course men were going to stare. Even with my self justification, their gaze made my stomach turn. I continued walking and my eyes eventually landed on a man's back who was sitting at a table for two, alone in a more secluded part of the establishment. He was wearing a soft cream dress shirt with a shockingly red tie laced around his neck. I walked through the tables till I arrived at his table.

“Are you Sam?” His eyes turned on me and he looked me up and down.

“Yes, and you must be Zelda.” He grinned at me and shook my hand, his palms were sweaty. I made my way over to the parallel seat. “With a name and beautiful face like yours, I thought for sure I was being catfished.” He played around with his hands in his lap.

His face was cute, like a little boy whose features never learned to grow up.

Untitled

by Lauryn Henry

“I’m very real, I promise,” I said with a smile. I sat down across from him and began conversing with him as best I could. I'd never been good at talking to other real people. The ones whose minds you couldn't force your way into. As time passed, my left hand began to tingle and itch. At first, I ignored it and continued with my date, but as it persisted, the sensation started to drive me out of my mind. I began to scratch at it discreetly under the table, but instead of getting better like most itches, it just kept getting worse. Before I knew it, my hand went hot. I looked down to find it covered in blood. A few small drops dotted my dress that were far too dark to fit in with it's bright color. My heart began to race.

They were doing it again.

14

“Chapter One: The Death of Zelda Atkins” continued I sat there trying to figure out how I was going to manage to excuse myself to clean my hand without Sam seeing it. What kind of person manages to tear up their hand that much without even noticing? Not someone who would ever be normal, I knew that was for sure. The best course of action was to excuse myself to the bathroom, but as soon as I had the thought, my hand began to burn.

The pain was like fire coming from inside my veins. I knew it wouldn’t stop until I let them in.

Not until I let whoever was ruining the first good evening I had had in years. I sat my back against my chair and relaxed. My right index finger moved over to the wound and dunked itself into the blood like a feather quill hungry for ink. My newly bloodied finger moved its way across my pale skin.

R U N It wasn’t until my mind had registered the bloody word that I felt the eyes on the back of my head like lasers trying to fry my brain. My breath caught in my lungs like the late cigarette’s smoke. My reaction was big enough that Sam finally realized I wasn't listening anymore.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s pudgy baby face was drowning in concern. I looked up at him and changed my face to a charming smile.

“I’m fine, just got a bit queasy for a moment.” His eyes held my gaze, “I think I’m just going to step out for a moment, if that’s okay.” I tried to sound more sheepish and cute and less scared out of my mind.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked as I slowly picked myself up from my chair, hiding my left arm behind my back and tucking my bloody finger behind my bag.

“Oh no, I’ll be just fine on my own.” I gave him another big smile and made my way to the door as fast as I could walk. As I reached the door, I could hear the sound of two big people pushing their way out of their seat at the bar. I vaulted my way through the doors into the nights brisk air, accidentally shoving some passersby. I kicked my shoes off, and with a stiletto in each hand, I ran for my life. The two giants were a lot faster than you would expect their beefy legs to take them. I ran through the busy city streets pushing pedestrians who didn’t hear my feet coming. I could feel pieces of glass and other obscure objects lodged in my feet, but I didn’t feel any pain; all I could feel was fear. They were yelling out every direction, but I couldn’t discern a particular one, so when I did finally hear one stand out, I didn’t pay any attention to who had put it there.

Left. I followed the thought into a long skinny dead end alleyway trying to find the place that was going to be my safe haven. That was when the men arrived and I realized what had happened. My body filled with dread and a happiness so strong it hurt. I was stuck, this time I wouldn’t make it out, I was at the end. One of the men raised a sharp silver shining gun and fired. My world went into slow motion, and all I could do was stare that shiny killer down and wait for the hit. Warmth spread throughout my ribs, and I collapsed letting out one last breath.

15

-Anonymous

“The Real Rainbow” Hey, guys. My name is Lugiamasterbrony, and what I’m about to tell you may sound crazy.

Everybody says that Creepypastas are all fake. That’s true for the most part. However, there are a select few that are very much true. This is one of them…

So it was July 22, 2017, and I was walking around the park that’s near my house at 10:00 PM when I saw something odd in the grass on a small hill. I went to investigate the odd object. I saw a small rainbow spot, and I wondered how it got there. I looked around to see what could have made that spot but I didn’t see anything. So I kinda shrugged it off and started to walk away.

As I started to walk away I heard something approaching me. I stopped for a second to listen closely as it got closer and closer. When it got like 10 feet away from me I started to run. I ran and I ran as fast as I could, but as I kept running it got closer and closer. I then realized there was no escaping this creature so I had to turn around and face it head-on.

When I turned around, what I saw next was horrifying, sort of.

All I saw for a brief second was magenta colored eyes and blue fur. I thought to myself, “This looks very familiar but who could it be? Who has magenta eyes and blue fur?” so I shined my flashlight on and there she was, Rainbow Dash, the real Rainbow Dash.

Now I know what you're thinking, “Lugia how could you have seen Rainbow Dash in real life? She's a fictional cartoon character,” but let me tell you this I know what I saw and I saw Rainbow Dash for Winter in Manehattan real. However this wasn’t the normal Rainbow Dash no no no.

by Dylan McBride This one had blood on her fur and her mane. My heart raced like crazy when I saw which Rainbow Dash she was. This was in fact the Rainbow Dash that worked in the Rainbow Factory. Right then and there I knew there was no escaping her, she could fly at speeds up to Mach 10. So I couldn't outrun her that didn't mean I was out of options. I could still outsmart her for you see I may not be the fastest runner, I may not be winning any gold medals at the Olympics. However when it comes to outsmarting things there is almost nothing I can't beat.

So as Rainbow Dash was charging at me, I devised a plan to escape her. I ran into the cornfield so she couldn't find me. I ran as far as I could into that cornfield. I thought I had outsmarted her, but then I forgot she's a pegasus so she could fly above me and look downwards, so I had to think of something else. I had to disguise myself as corn. But I was too late; she found me and knocked me out.

16

“The Real Rainbow” continued I woke up and looked at my watch. It was 20 minutes later. I then looked at the ceiling. I didn't know where I was at first, but I realized there was no chance of escape. But I had to escape. If I didn't escape, I wouldn't be able to go to BronyCon or go back to school, so I knew I had to figure out a way to escape. I had to escape this place, wherever I was.

Just then Rainbow Dash walked into the room. She was wearing a white lab coat with a few rainbow stains and some blood stains on it. She had a malicious and creepy smile on her face as she walked in. She walked over to a table that was nearby me with a bunch of tools on it.

One of the first things that she did to me was she took out a whip and started whipping me non-stop. The next thing she did was she took a knife and started cutting me open very, very slowly from the center of my chest to the middle of my belly. After that, she attached me to a machine. I had no idea what was going on at the time at all. I didn't know what machine she put me in, but I could feel the bone-chilling metal. Then she stuck a needle that was connected to the machine inside of my body, and the machine started sucking up fluids from my internal organs. As she was doing that, I started to realize what it was she was doing.

The fluids traveled through IVs into a strange machine, and I watched as this machine began to whir and spin. The fluids - my fluids - began to take on different colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple… She was harvesting me for rainbows, and I was afraid there was no escape for me. I saw tubes leading to another place. I didn't know where this was, but I figured it had to be leading to the place that made Spectra.

I was still very much alive while this process was going on, but Rainbow Dash decided to leave for a few minutes to go on break. She put two guards in front of the room to make sure I didn't escape. So I'm just sitting there, 10 minutes, 20 minutes, hell maybe even 30 minutes - that's when I realized I had to escape because if I stayed there any longer, I would not be alive today. So how was a normal human being like me supposed to escape this place that I was in? Well, like I said, before I did manage to untie myself and I did say there was a portal, but I never specified to where this portal was.

This is how I escaped this building. So once I was untied, I walked around so I could find a way to leave this building. First off, I couldn't just go through the door because I knew there were two guards outside, so I had to think of another way out. I looked around the room, and I saw a two vents; both were in reach, so I had to find a way to climb into them and escape using the vents. There were quite a few things in that room that I could have used, but I didn't want to make my escape too obvious because if I did, I knew Rainbow Dash would hunt me down. She would send all of her workers to find me so she could get me back on that contraption to kill me and drain me for rainbows. I didn't have magic because I'm a normal human, but I did think of some way to get to the vents but not make it too obvious that I escaped. I had to climb the walls.

17

“The Real Rainbow” continued Once inside the vents, I started to crawl around hoping to find an exit to this building. So, I went crawling and crawling and crawling, but there was no exit to be seen. I figured by just looking straightforward that there was no guarantee I could find the exit. I had to listen to my surroundings and find it that way, so that's what I did. I was in there for two or three hours trying to find the exit. Eventually, I did find the exit but it was locked. So I had to figure out a way to unlock door. I looked around my surroundings and I found a few things I could use to pry open that lock. I used one of the tools and managed to unlock that door, and when I did, I opened the door and bolted it out of that building as fast as I could.

It was strange; I thought I would have been taken to the Rainbow Factory, but instead it seemed like I was in another building. Was it possible that I was dragged to Equestria?

Once I escaped I looked around and realized I wasn’t in Champaign Illinois anymore. I was in Equestria, but how would I be able to get back home? Well, I had to run and find the portal back home, so that's what I did. I searched and I searched, but finding this portal wasn't easy at all; at least it wasn't as horrible as it was being tortured in that room.

I ran and ran, not looking back because I knew that eventually Rainbow Dash would figure out that I escaped and she would go completely berserk. I ran until I got to the middle of Ponyville, which is a really nice little town. It's sad that I wasn't able to stay there very long because I knew that Rainbow Dash wouldn't be too far behind. I looked around the town to see if there was a portal; there were none. So then I ran to the Everfree Forest, a place where nopony goes because it's too scary, unknown, and unpredictable. As I ran into the Everfree Forest, I heard a few of Rainbow Dash's workers. I knew that they were tracking me down, so I had to find that portal quickly. So I kept on running until I tripped over a rock. I was in great pain, not just from the torture I'd gone through but now from tripping over that rock, which put it left a good dent in my leg. I tried not to scream so I couldn't be found.

Eventually, I did find the portal it was, how should I say, in the back of the forest.

Once I found the portal, I jumped through, hoping that the portal would close behind me so I could never have to go back to that horrible building. But it was strange: when I was on the other side of that portal, all of my injuries were gone as if it never happened. The portal did end up closing behind me, and I landed on that spot with the rainbow on it. The next day, the rainbow spot was gone. So, the next time you see a little patch of rainbow on the grass or anywhere, don't go near it. Run away as fast as possible because as we all know, the story of a rainbow isn't quite as nice as the story we knew of sugar and spice. You never know if Rainbow Dash is nearby, so leave and never look at that little patch ever again for your own safety. It was my most terrifying experience that I ever had. Sometimes I feel like I'm still being watched by something. I don't know exactly what it is, but I just know something's watching me. Maybe it's Rainbow Dash... who knows? All I know is that I think I'm safe for now...

-Dylan “Lugiamasterbrony” McBride

18

“Aftermath” “ Are you ready?”

“Yeah I’m ready.” I was ready. I was ready to see that she was perfectly fine, just a couple of bumps and bruises.

We walked down the colorless and boring hallway. We stopped at the gateway to the critical area. Elle’s mom told the lady what room, and they let us in. We walked past all of the other rooms. I saw lots of older people. They looked so lonely - nobody was in their rooms. Elle’s room was the last room of the hall. I walk into her room, ready to see her sitting up and smiling when she sees me and my folks. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Not even close. That slow-motion moment happened as I walked past the curtain. My hands were sweaty, my stomach was turning, everything in slow motion as I get past the curtain, the sunlight coming in through the window burned my eyes as if I was staring into headlights.

When I finally got past the bright light, I saw a sight I wish I would never have to see ever again. My best friend, my sister, lying in a bed with a tube down her throat. I almost threw up. I saw some of her family sitting in the couch. My parents stayed back. Her hands were in these mittens so if she woke up, she wouldn’t pull out her tube.

Her face was almost unrecognizable. I thought it was someone else, but sadly, it was her. I sat in the chair right next to her. I held her hand as I started to cry. I couldn’t hold it in any more, all of the feelings come pouring out.

“Hey El, Laura is here,” her mom said. “We love you so much, and we are glad you are okay. Laura, why don’t you say something to her?”

Photo

by Anonymous

I couldn’t say anything; it’s like all of the words had left my brain, and all I could do was cry.

Behind me, my dad and Elle’s mom were talking about what happened and what was wrong with her. She had broken her back, her clavicle was broken, she had broken her skull, and there was bleeding and swelling in her frontal lobe. Unlike Brody, who was thrown from the car right way, she stayed in the car while it was flipping and then was thrown from the car.

Hearing those words hurt me even more. I was bawling my eyes out at this point.

“She broke all of those things, yet she didn’t break her nails - only Elle could do that.” After her mom said that, she showed me her freshly manicured fake nails, not even scratched. I laughed so hard. I think it was a mixture of crying and laughter.

-Anonymous

19

“H.E.R. Story: Way Too Young” Who would have known it would be like this for her? 17 years old, and she's handled more than your average adult. Every day, she battles with herself as well as the world. Last year of high school, and she’s behind on everything. Everyone else getting college acceptance letters, and she has yet to even submit hers.

Problems with getting her SAT scores and no support from her parents.

Grades dropping low, but she still tries to manage.

Last year of high school… Can she make it?

Who knows look at all this damage.

Mom and Step-dad having issues, and she’s put in the middle, hoping maybe one day they will rekindle what they had at least for the kids.

She’s 17 - how can she play the mother role to their kids? ¨How was school?¨ ¨what y’all doin?¨ ¨what y’all want to eat¨ and ¨y’all take a bath?¨ and ¨come on so i can do your hair for school¨ and ¨get y’all school clothes ready¨ and ¨get ready for bed¨ and “go to bed¨ and ¨stop playing and do what I said¨ ¨Lele, where’s mommy?¨ ¨Daddy come with us?¨ ¨Lele, I'm Hungry” and ¨Lele, can we go outside?¨ and “can you buy us this game?”

Partying? She doesn’t do it.

Hanging out with friends? Rarely.

Every day she comes home, she gets asked, “you gotta work today?”

Only because he needs her to watch after HIS kids while he goes out with his friends, cheat on their mom, ride around all day call and ask if they are hungry to wait 4-5 hours to feed them.

Their mom comes home from work they explain to her what he’d been doing all day, not to just inform her but as a cry for help.

She’s 17, and dang, Mama, she can’t do it by herself!

Mama pretends to care: she walks around snapping.

He walks in the door now she gets quieted, and Lele doesn’t understand what happened.

She thinks in her head like “Mama, what about what you just said?”

The hopes of this being over someday becomes dead, at least to her.

Lele notices mom is scared. She just really wants to get out of there.

20

“H.E.R. Story: Way Too Young” continued “Mom, can you take just me to the library? I gotta do some college prep.”

“Lele, I ain’t got no gas to be going anywhere” but meanwhile Lele gets an attitude and goes in the room. She comes back out, and Mama is gone.

“Where my mama go?”

“She went to get some food her friend made for her.”

But she couldn’t take Lele to the library for college prep.

You’d think to do the whole “family meeting” thing, and Lele finally spoke out about the things her brothers would tell her and then everything got turned on her.

He got mad and told Lele, “I don’t owe y’all NOTHING, nor do I have to explain anything to y'all” Her response really got things hot. She said, “You do owe us something you owe us an apology.

An apology for making us jump from house to house to not having a house at all, An apology for breaking our mom’s foot and treating us as if we didn’t exist! We had to sit there with her every day knowing she couldn’t do anything for us. We had to sit there and struggle to figure out how we were gonna eat that day while you were out smoking, drinking, having fun, as if you didn’t have a wife and four kids who could barely get by.

I had to move and miss out on school for a whole month.

Because of you, we lost everything.

Because of you, but you owe us nothing?

She wasn’t the only one put in that situation; it affected us, too, but y’all not even thinking about that.”

Photo

by Anonymous

Just from her stating those facts, he got his stuff and left.

After that, it’s as if their mom had become someone else. She charged at Lele, yelling, “Look what you did!” and all Lele could do was cry and yell “and that's the kind of man you want? That's the kind of man you want to put over your kids? He can’t even handle the little stuff. I am saying because, trust me, it can get way deeper.

He got you wanting to fight me? When I was the one there, wiping your tears because of him, stepping up to help you because he wouldn’t do it. I’m 17 and doing better than he ever could’ve” And with that being said she walked off, only to turn around and see her mom trying to take her phones.

“Give them back to me. You don’t pay for them.

I use my own money to pay that bill, and MY auntie pays the other one. You cannot take something that you did not buy!”

21

“H.E.R. Story: Way Too Young” continued It's almost if that was a trigger. They began to get into an altercation that escalated extremely quickly. They tried talking things out, but it just didn’t feel right anymore. Once her mom left for work, she got in the shower and left. That night, she tried coming back, but they went out of town so she had to stay the night at her boyfriend’s house.

They didn’t call text or anything to see if she was okay.

The next morning, they called her home so they could talk, but when she got there, they told her to get in the car.

As she got in there, she seen that all her things were in the car.

They dropped her. Her parents, who should be the ones pushing for her success, but nope, they seem to be the ones holding her back.

Making her late for school, not giving her the things she needs, and most of all, no support.

She thought returning home would ease her stress. Lost yet?

May 2017, the week after school ended for summer break.

All things seemed to fall down hill.

Her mom and step-dad started to try to work things out, but as they worked things out things between him and the two kids who didn’t belong to him began to take a turn for the worse.

Usually, they’d tell their mom everything he said, and everything he did, but this time around, it’s as if she’d forgotten the monster he was to them, and he could do no wrong.

She’d tell they they were lying and get attitudes with them.

One day, they all decided to go off at her uncle’s house and wouldn’t allow her to go anywhere or do anything.

Her uncle told her there was no food, and they wouldn’t have any Until thursday (mind you, it was a Saturday), and that her mother said she could not leave her room full of clothes, no bed, no nothing.

So that night, her uncle decided to leave, she packed whatever she could, called her boyfriend, and took a run for it .

He met up with her, and they ran through town to get to his house because in the morning, she was taking a train and leaving town.

To be continued...

-Anonymous

22

“The Golden Knight” From the small room under the stands of the arena, Ser Gaurin Belmont heard the muffled cheers of the crowd as he awaited the fight in the final duel of the tourney in Louver. The room had a bed, bench and small window allowing natural light into the space. He sat on the bench in his armor, cleaning and preparing his sword for the duel. Gaurin always kept up on the maintenance of his sword, keeping it in the perfect condition and making it look as it first did the first time he bought it from the blacksmith. He did the same with his armor and shield, cleaning them all until he could see his reflection in them. All of his equipment was made out of gold or made to look as such. His armor and shield where a mixture of gold and other metals, while the hilt of his sword was made of pure gold. He also had parts of his equipment shaped to the sigil of his house, the griffin. The pommel of his sword had the head of a griffin, his helmet had the wings of a griffin on the side of it, while his shield had his houses full sigil on it with a large griffin spreading its wings out, talons up and ready to attack.

Gaurin heard a knock at the door and then saw a man enter the room. The man had a sword and was wearing a set of red and black armor with a burning phoenix over a crown in the middle of his breast plate which meant he was the personal guard and soldier of the royal family Allarie.

“Ser Gaurin it is time for the final duel of the tourney,” the guard said in a commanding voice.

Gaurin sheathed his sword, put on his helmet, grabbed his shield, and followed the guard out of the room. The hallway was lit by torches and some natural light seeping through the other rooms in the hall. On his way through the hallway, he saw other knights in the rooms resting and patching up some minor wounds they had suffered from their duels. As they got closer to the arena, the roars of the crowd got louder and louder until they reached the gate into the arena.

“Open the gate,” the guard commanded a soldier, who then started turning a lever opening the gate.

The guard then turned to Ser Gaurin and said, “I wish you luck in the duel.”

Gaurin nodded to him and then walked out into the arena to a cheering crowd. He saw his opponent standing across the Photo arena: the man was about Gaurin’s height standing at around 6

by Alexia Alves foot 2, wearing medium-sized smokey grey armor with a greatsword almost as big as the man himself slung behind his back. Gaurin remembered seeing the man from earlier in the tournament and recognizing that he was a transient knight as he never bore the sigil of a house, not outside his tent, on his armor, nor his shield the day he jousted.

23

“The Golden Knight” continued But that did not matter to Gaurin as much as it did to others who think of transient knights as nothing more than honorless sellswords with a title. They are right in a way as they just travel from kingdom to kingdom participating in tournaments and taking jobs from lords and kings. No loyalty to anyone, even to those who pay them, for as some famous transient knights proved like Ser Frederick Aaron who was paid by Lord Carrick in Thunia to lead his army in a war over some disputed land against a rival lord. Frederick led the army to one victory after the other, decimating the rival lords troops. The rival lord fearing his own demise, sent a spy to the encampment where Frederick was staying and offered to pay triple the price his current lord was paying. He accepted the lord's bargain and abandoned the encampment to lead his new lords army. Frederick would go on to win that war, he would even kill Carrick in combat.

Gaurin wondered what Carrick’s first reaction was to Frederick abandoning him and joining the other side. Was he regretful of his decision of hiring him, was he angry for betraying him, or was he just fearful of Frederick coming and killing him? But still, Gaurin knows that there are honorable transient knights, and to Gaurin, the most important attribute of a knight was his skill in in combat, because a knight's worth is only made by the sword and the hand that wields it hand.

Gaurin then shifted his sight up to the personal box of the royal family in the arena stands. It was a very lavish seating area that was separated from the rest of the stands and would seat the royal family and a few noble guests they wish to have up there. But today, it only seems to be occupied by the Queen regent, the newly Crowned king, and some of their servants. The king and queen regent sat in some elevated chairs while the servants stood and waited on them. The King looked on edge and uncomfortable. Gaurin, knowing the king’s stress of losing his father only two weeks earlier, becoming the new ruler, and his disdain for violence, did not blame him for his current emotional state. The queen on the other hand just had sadness on her face with eyes tired of crying. Neither of them wanted to be their or even hold this event, but both did not want to break with tradition.

Three servants in fancy clothing from the box approached the ledge to face the audience of the arena. The two servants to the right and left of the middle servant raised the horns they were holding and blew into them. The sounds of the horn blast echoed around the arena quieting the crowd. When the crowd fell to the silence of a crypt the third servant addressed them, “ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final duel of King Jehan Allaire's coronation tourney.¨ The noise of the crowd rose with clapping and cheering and then fell back down again to let the man finish speaking.

“We have seen many great knights over these few days try to prove their skill in racing, archery, jousting, and finally combat,” he yelled over the audience.

24

“The Golden Knight” continued “But now we must crown a champion, so welcome the knights who bested all others, Ser Gaurin of house Belmont and Ser Robert Royland from Wethos.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and the two servants in the royal box blew into their horns signaling the start of the fight. Gaurin unsheathed his sword and readied his shield as Royland slowly unsheathed his greatsword. Gaurin waited for his opponent to attack first hoping that the great sword would slow him down allowing Gaurin to easily dodge, attack, and beat him before He can get in another swing.

Finally, Royland swung his greatsword at Gaurin, who readily dodged it, but to his surprise, Royland was much faster with his greatsword than Gaurin anticipated, narrowly dodging Royland’s attack, leaving a scratch on his breastplate. Gaurin seeing his opportunity to strike sung his sword at Royland who then blocked before it could land with his greatsword.

Royland then raised and swung his sword with such pace that Gaurin barely had time to move his shield to block. Gaurin and Royland’s fight went on like this for awhile, each other so close to landing an attack and having it blocked by the other before it can.

It was over 20 minutes into the fight at which point Gaurin was in shock, He had never seen a man use a greatsword with such speed and agility, Royland’s dexterity with his greatsword was truly amazing. Royland’s movements showed that he was not gonna tire anytime soon and Gaurin was starting to worry if he could win. But then Gaurin saw an opening in Royland’s defense as he was going to swing his sword to try and hit Gaurin on his right. This was a dimwitted move, as Gaurin easily blocked the move with his shield on that side.

Gaurin then hit Royland on the left, making him stagger, allowing Gaurin to attack again and again without any resistance. Royland was barely standing from all the blows, so Gaurin ready to end it swung a final blow on Royland’s breastplate dropping him. His armor and sword made a clanking sound as he dropped to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers as the servants horns blew to bring the noise back down again.

When the crowd was quieted down again the servant who spoke earlier pointed his hand toward Gaurin and said, “Ser Gaurin of house Belmont is the champion of King Jehan Allaire's Coronation tourney.

The crowd applauded him, while the King and Queen regent looked on absentmindedly. ***** The sun hung low in the sky when the Coronation feast in the great hall began. The hall had four long tables laden with food and sat over hundred nobles from all over Ealus. The King sat at his own table in the front of the room only having guests of his choosing to dine with.

But the King too timid to talk with people he did not know had only Gaurin to sit with him, for he was a long time friend of the Allaire family and a second father figure to Jehan.

25

“The Golden Knight” continued The hall became lively with music and conversation as people filled their stomachs, while Jehan and Guarin looked on in silence. Every once in while people from the crowd take glimpses up at Jehan and Gaurin only to find them silently picking at their food.

Gaurin wanting to break this unpleasant silence ask Jehan, “Where might the Queen regent be this evening your grace.”

Jehan kept his gaze on the food and crowd, but turned his head slightly and said, “ she was not feeling well so she retired to her chambers for the evening.”

“Will she be all right,” Gaurin asked in worry.

“She will be find Gaurin, it's just that she still mourns over my father's death,” Jehan said reassuring him.

“Do you still mourn for his death?” Gaurin asked.

Jehan looked over at him repulsed by the question as if he was sickened by the very thought of other people seeing him as a son who does not still mourn for his father's recent death.

“Of course I do it's just I have a responsibilities as King, and one of those responsibilities is to look strong for my people, assure them that they have a leader worth believing in, not one who can't even attend a feast because he weeps for his father's death,” Jehan declared.

Gaurin, feeling bad, said, “I'm sorry your grace, and i'm sorry for your father's death.”

“It's okay Guarin, and it's not your fault that my father is dead, it was that treacherous bastard Lord Dufort who killed my father,” Jehan said angrily.

“But I should have been right beside him on the field protecting him,” Gaurin said sadly.

“Gaurin, did my father send you to take Dufort’s castle, and kill Lord Dufort while he was fighting his army, and sons,” Jehan ask.

“He did your grace,” Gaurin responded.

“And did you do it,” Jehan ask.

“I did your grace,” Gaurin replied.

Photo

by Tristan Elzy

26

“The Golden Knight” continued “Then you are not to blame, you were given orders by your King, you carried them out without question, that's what a loyal knight does, if you were to disobey him then that would be your real shame, so I will hear no more of you blaming yourself,” Jehan said.

Gaurin knew the boy was right in a way, that he could not disobey his King's orders, but he still felt the King's blood was on his hands as he felt he could of talked the King into staying in Louver, instead of marching with the rest of the army. He would ponder over this for the rest of the feast, as Jehan had no more words to share with him.

Later that night he would retire to the chambers that the King had given him while he stayed in Louver. It was a very nice and plush room, with a balcony that overlooked the city below.

Gaurin could not sleep as his mind ran with thoughts of the late King's death, how it affected Jehan, the Queen regent, the kingdom, and him most of all. The King was a great man, great friend, a man who was loved by the people, a man who took a peasant boy like Guarin and rose him to knighthood for nothing more than fighting for his King on the battlefield.

Gaurin then made a promise to himself, and his dead friend. that no harm should ever come to the rest of the royal family, that he will give up his lands, and titles to stay in Louver and protect them as part of the royal guard. He would go and tell the King tomorrow of this decision.

Suddenly someone came knocking at the door.

“Come in,” Gaurin said.

A guard entered the room with grave sadness on his face and sad, “Ser Gaurin the Queen regent has been found dead in her room.”

-Anonymous

Unititled

by Alexander Dalton 27

“LAFP Chapter 13” After we finished the steps in front of the gym’s doors, we stopped and faced each other.

She was looking inside the gym, but I was looking at her. She had a big grey coat on that wasn’t zipped. There was white, black, and dark grey fur on the hood of the coat. She had her hair in a high ponytail. She had really thick hair; every time she put her hair up, it curled up, and I never saw someone else's hair like hers. She finally turned to me, and we locked eyes. I stared into her eyes more than three seconds. She smiled.

“See.. Why do you look at me like that?” Nani asked.

I didn’t stop looking at her “I….don’t know why...” I said. She looked deeper into my eyes. By the second, her eyes become thoughtful. She turned her head to look at the ground. I had not stopped looking at her. I tilted my head. I reached for her chin. I placed the tips of my fingers on the bottom of her chin nicely. My fingers gave her a soft pull to have her facing me. She took over, and she decided to have her head towards me.

She looked at me, her eyes was filled with water. ”What are you afraid of?¨ I gently slid my hand on to her face where the tips of my fingers were at the middle of her cheek. ¨Am I the one who's afraid?¨ I asked her back.

She gave me a smile. It wasn't her happy smile that I liked to see from her. It was a smile that was hiding her fear. I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t seem bright and giggly and happy like she is, and I really wanted to make her feel better. But suddenly, she moved her face so my hand wasn’t placed on her cheek anymore. She took a step back from me. ¨I don't want to feel like this,¨ she said loudly and looked the other way.

My eyes didn't leave her. Then I started to look down exactly the way she did it. I never saw Nani like this. She was always confident in herself, strong and hard, lets nothing get to her...

I shake my head to snap out of it. I responded, “What is it?”

Lots of seconds passed. She looked cold. I took a step closer, and she loosened up just a little. She put her head up and looked at me. She said, “You know...I never met anyone like you.” We looked each other in the eyes, and she carried on with what she was saying.

“Which makes me create my own fear that shouldn’t be there, it doesn’t belong there.”

I nodded my head at her a little, giving her a sign to just let out of what she was feeling. “I really do care about you. I was shy to tell you, nervous to see what your reaction would be, scared that you would not feel the same.” .

28

“LAFP Chapter 13” continued My heart started to race, like a butterfly was stuck in my chest. I couldn’t help but to just smile at her. “You think too much,” I said.

She quietly giggled, and her eyes sparkled and got out of her feelings. Before she could say anything, a person walked out the door from the gym, taking their time walking between us. I just watched them walk out the door, through me and Nani, leaving us behind.

Nani started laughing. I’m guessing the way I looked was funny, then she started hitting me while laughing. She was all over the place. She could barely even speak, and I even started laughing with her. I couldn’t help but to laugh. We laughed and laughed until we couldn’t breathe. As I started to calm down from all that laughing, I reached for Nani’s hands. I held her hands in mine and looked into her eyes. She seemed surprised with what I did.

“I will never leave you… I will never let you down, and I will never, ever hurt you, Nani...”

She had tears in her eyes, the good tears, and she listened. I continued. “Before I met you, I didn’t believe in anything that had to do with feelings, it wasn’t for me, but you…. The feeling was different when I first saw you. I never met anyone that makes me nervous, or anyone I get so happy by doing the littlest thing towards me. It took me a little to admit to myself that I……. like……. you.”

The second I finished my sentence, Nani grabbed my face and kissed me and put her body against mine… I pulled back into shock and grabbed her wrists gently and looked at her in the eyes. Then I kissed her this time, and I closed my eyes. She kissed back. When I was kissing her, I could feel a tiny smile on her lips. I couldn't believe this was all happening right now.

I was the luckiest man to have my first kiss with Nani. Even though it was my first, I could tell her feelings were real and that she really did like me. She explained what she was feeling for me through one kiss… She slowly stopped, and I opened my eyes. Our foreheads were up against each other, her eyes were still closed. She opened her eyes a little… finally, she opened them completely and smiled. I gave her a full smile and kissed her on her forehead and wrapped my arms around her, my hands ending up at the bottom of her back, and I placed my chin on top of her head. Nani placed the left side of her face on my chest and closed her eyes. I hugged her gently but tight to show her and to let her know that I wasn’t going nowhere

-Huyanna Siegler 29

“The Phoenix” We were only children. We were just stupid kids looking for cheap thrills. I was fifteen, they were sixteen, and as far as they were concerned, we were immortal. I wasn’t quite so sure, but I had long since given up on stopping them, and I was just along for the ride at that point.

It was late October when they invited me over. It was autumn break at the time, and it was two days before Halloween. I walked in to see the moldy and cracked walls that I had seen countless times over the last two years, avoiding the large stains on the carpet that had come from who knows where. I walked into their mostly empty main room, which had nothing but a stained couch with a huge rip down the middle.

The room was lit by just a few candles, and I had no idea whether it was because the power was off or if it was just something they did for the mood. I avoided the buckets full of water on the ground and walked over to the extending staircase and went up to the ladder like they had told me earlier, when I made it up, the area had lit candles sitting on various beams, nearly touching the loose insulation. I was careful not to touch them. I saw the two of them sitting in the back, the candle light illuminating their faces ominously. George sat to the left, Tom to his left. They were sitting around a Ouija board.

George shouted to me, “Get you ass over here! You’re late ya know. By now we wouldn’t have been waiting for you if we didn’t need a third person.” I quickly apologized and sat down on the weak floor, coughing as insulation dust flew into the air. I looked down at the Ouija board that Tom had found.

It wasn’t one of those cheap cardboard ones you bought from the store. It was old and faded, made of visibly rotting wood, with various cracks all along it. It looked like just touching would coat your hand in splinters and infect your hand to the bone. The lens piece didn’t seem to match the board. It looked much newer, but that wasn’t saying much. The glass was clear and the wood was polished and new. The two of them beckoned me over to them and I sat down on the other side of the board from them, closest to the door. George said, “I used the school computer to get the instructions. If anything is wrong it ain’t my fault, understand?”

I didn’t bother pointing out that it could still easily be his fault, and instead just nodded. We each placed our hands on the piece, and the both of them looked at me. Tom said, “If any of us are gonna be possessed it ain’t gonna me, understand?” I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just said the first thing that came to mind, “Is there anyone here?” The piece began to move slowly.

I could tell Tom was fooled, but I could tell George was the one pulling it. The piece went over to the “yes” section on the board, and while looking at George I said, “How did you die?” Up to this point George had been smiling, but when the piece started moving again, it dropped from his face.

I could tell that George wasn’t the one moving the piece this time. It was being dragged like someone was pushing on it from above. It moved about the board slowly. I-D-I-D-N-T Is what the board spelled out. Tom was starting to freak out, but George and I both kept our cool, and this time George asked, “What do you mean?” Then, the piece began to move, but at the same time the letters began to glow with a dim light. I seemed to be the only one who noticed. The piece spelled out L-E-T-M-E-S-H-O-W-Y-O-U. I could tell by the look on their faces that they both were intrigued, but at this point I thought it was time for us to close out the ceremony.

30

“The Phoenix” continued The two of them batted away my concerns, and Tom asked, “How do we let you show us?”

The letters began to glow brighter than before. The piece moved around more quickly this time, and spelled out S-I-G-I-L-L-U-M-R-E-L-E-A-S-E. I almost immediately recognised it as Latin, but before I could stop them they both said it out. Suddenly, the letters grew brighter, and the board began to shake. It’s colors became vibrant, its surface smoothed itself out.

Suddenly another boy was in the room. Their clothes looked old, like they were from a long gone era.

The boy said with a thick British accent, “Thanks mates! It’s been too long since I’ve been free of that board. Thank you! Almost makes me feel bad about this!” Then he launched himself at me and disappeared upon impact. Then, Tom and George, who were still both touching the board, were sucked in. As it happened they screamed as if they were in agonizing pain, but I couldn’t do anything to help them. I couldn’t move, or even close my eyes so I didn’t have to watch. When their screams finally stopped. I struggled to try to move, but my body was unresponsive no matter what I did. I started freaking out internally, wanting desperately to scream. Then I noticed my hands were stretching out themselves, without my influence.

Suddenly I shot up from where I was sitting without a thought and I heard my mouth say, in a voice similar to the boys but without the accent, “You’ve got a nice body here. Much better than the diseased one I wound up in last time. Hopefully that means you will last longer than the previous one. He barely made it to 17.” He cackled a bit and I could do nothing but watch as he grabbed the board and left the attic, but not before kicking over one of the candles, setting the whole place up in flames. By the time we got across the street, the whole place was going up in flames.

The thing controlling my body asked, “What’s your name? I need something to call myself.” I didn’t even try to respond. He said, “Alright then don’t tell me. I guess we’ll just go nameless for a while. Now, let’s get moving. I haven’t been around in a while, so I don’t know how good your fire department is, but I doubt it can handle us.” My body rushed to my house and went straight to the garage. He grabbed two of the gascans we kept and a box of matches and then went into the kitchen after taking the gas outside. He turned on the stoves gas and sat there staring at it for a minute. Then, he pulled out a match, sending the whole place up in flames. Everything went black as he laughed.

The next thing I remember, we were walking out of an intense burning heat, the flames licking my body with their venomous tongues. I could feel the flames burning me, but there wasn’t any burns on me, and my clothes were fine. Once we got out of the building, I could see the Ouija board, which he had left next to the gas cans, was burnt around the edges, and blackened with soot. He said, “Alright we’ve got one more charge. After that, we’ll have to find somebody else to play with to keep this going!” With that, we went all around town, starting fires and destroying everything we could. Eventually, I just stopped thinking and watched the carnage unfold, like a flower of blazing death. I knew then just what it was like to be immortal.

-Alexander Dalton 31

“Flowerpots” I had a feeling that something was wrong when Yarrow kept on picking at his dinner. Sure, the mashed potatoes were mushy and soggy -- the water leaking from the heap created a small lake on my plate -- and the green beans smelled like raw sewage -- but it was better than nothing, right? Spearing a bean on my fork, I took a bite with a visible grimace, feeling a gag rise in the back of my throat as the slimy texture engulfed my taste buds. I snatched my water glass from the table and took a long drink, the single bean pushed down my throat by the flow of the water.

“Why are you even bothering with that?” Yarrow said, staring across the table at my plate.

“It’s garbage. I could smell it from the shop when you were cooking.”

“I thought you liked mashed potatoes,” I replied.

“Yeah, I do - when they don’t look like pulp and taste like melted styrofoam.”

“Well, if you hate them so much, you can cook tomorrow night and I’ll sit here making snide remarks.” Despite the twinge of annoyance I felt when Yarrow criticized the potatoes, I couldn’t help but agree - they really were terrible. Of course, I wasn’t about to let him in on that - he’d never let me hear the end of it if I did.

“I’m not cooking tomorrow night, I’m getting takeout.” Yarrow said with a sigh, He rested an elbow on the table, which let out a creak under the pressure. “It’s less work.”

“What, do you think we’re made of money or something? Takeout is expensive!”

“Yeah, but it’s edible. And we’ll have leftovers. That means you won’t have to cook for a few days.” He took a sip of water, peering at me over the plastic rim.

I scowled at him from my seat and folded my arms across my chest. “Do you not remember the budget that we put together at the beginning of the month? We only have a certain amount of money for food, and-” “I know, Juno - but I want to have at least one good meal before I leave.”

“Before you WHAT?!” I exclaimed. Yarrow’s face turned a stark white, paler than the Calla Lilies and Queen Anne’s lace that sat in ceramic pots at the front of the shop. His eyes widened as he realized what he said, and nervously shifted his gaze to the floor. I slowly got up out of my chair and walked over to where he was sitting. “What do you mean, ‘leaving?’” I placed a hand on his shoulder, my fingernails digging into the light green shirt he was wearing.

32

“Flowerpots” continued “Juno, that hurts-” “Answer the question!” I snapped, gripping his shoulder even tighter.

“Fine, fine!” Yarrow yanked my hand off his shoulder. “I’m taking a vacation for a week. I’m getting tired of working here -- and I honestly think that a break would do us both good, okay? We’ve been practically joined at the hip since we took over for mom and dad, after all!

You’re my sister, and I care about you, but I just want some time to myself!” He pushed his chair away from the table, looking down at the floor in shame. “Is that really so bad?”

“Were you planning on telling me this at any point, or were you just going to leave without saying anything?”

“I mean, I was going to tell you eventually…” Yarrow mumbled as he leaned back in his chair.

“Eventually?!” I exclaimed, my voice starting to rise higher.

“Yeah, like...the day before I left. I’m sorry, Juno -- I didn’t want to scare you and then make you worry for the rest of the week. I know that you get freaked out about traveling, especially after-” “Don’t.” I snapped, my throat tight. “Don’t even mention-” “I know, I know,” Yarrow sighed, resting an arm on the back of the birchwood chair. “I know, Juno. I’m sorry.”

I bit my lip and began picking up my dishes, mashed potatoes sloshing around on the plate. Leave it to him to bring it up again -- then again, I don’t think I had much room to talk. After all, I was the one with the picture on my bedside table. Heck, I was the one who didn’t even want to hear her name!

It’s been nine years, you know, a small voice in the back of my head pointed out. Get over it already. There’s nothing you can do -- you can’t bring her back now.

I knew that. As much as I hated to admit it, there was nothing I could do.

Photo

by Isabel Scott

33

“Flowerpots” continued “I never said that,” I replied. “But I’m not comfortable with the idea.”

“So you don’t want me to leave.”

“I said, I didn’t say that! Don’t you put words in my mouth now, Yarrow. I’m not comfortable with the idea of you leaving. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to go-” “It means the same thing,” Yarrow said. “It’s literally the same thing, Juno.” His tone was flat, tinged with defeat and exasperation.

“You just don’t want to come out and say it because it’ll make you look bad. I know what you’re about, alright?”

The plate of potatoes and beans shook in my hands. God, wouldn’t it be great to just give it a quick toss -- one little swing, just like that, and he’s covered in food. Stomp upstairs, lock the bedroom door, make him sleep at the table, on the couch, blast the AC through the house and hide the blankets. Some sister I was.

“Shut up and help me clear the table.” I snapped, my cheeks flushed in irritation. “And don’t you think for a second that this conversation is over.”

“No, it is. I’m leaving in a few days, and that’s it. That’s all there is to it.” He took his plate and glass off of the table and almost kicked his chair back in place.

“Don’t kick the damn chair!”

“I wasn’t kicking it. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting? I’m not the one kicking chairs,” I retorted, my words punctuated with a clattering of dishes as they were pushed roughly into the sink.

“You could break the dishes if you do that,” Yarrow said. He placed his plate and cup on the fading countertop, mashed potatoes slipping back and forth like Jell-O on a seesaw. “First the flowerpots, then the dishes...what’s next? The windows? The shop door?”

“Oh, like I’m the only one who breaks the pots!”

“I never said that you were the only one. Calm down.”

What was it about people telling you to calm down that just made everything worse? Sure, maybe dishes and chairs weren’t worth getting upset about -- but what would he think if I just “calmed down” now?

34

“Flowerpots” continued If I said that he was right, and that I was sorry for getting so bent out of shape over chairs and dishes and flowerpots and this vacation that he so desperately wanted. No use arguing when he can shut me up with a single “calm down,” a single “that’s all there is to it,” but there was no way in hell I was going to apologize now. Not on my life.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.”

“You’re right. You wouldn’t listen anyway.”

“Excuse me?!” I said, my voice high with shock. “Shape up and act your age, why don’t you?

Things wouldn’t be so bad around here if you would just-” “I’ll ‘shape up and act my age’ when you stop talking like our mother!”

“I don’t talk like mom!”

“Yeah, you do! ‘Don’t do this, stop trying to do that! I’m not going to let you leave, shut up and stop arguing with me, I don’t care that you’re an adult!’ Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad around here if you would just-” “Why is it always my fault?! You just love to blame me, don’t you? Oh, there’s a crack in the pot! Must be Juno’s fault! No one came in to buy anything today? What the hell’d you do this time, Juno?! Dinner tastes like garbage? Blame Juno! Juno did this, Juno did that! Shut up and start taking responsibility, why don’t you?! Things wouldn’t be so bad around here if you would-” “Maybe if you weren’t so self-centered, you’d realize that I don’t blame you for everything that goes wrong!” Yarrow snapped. “Wake up and look around. Smell the flowers if you have to, for Christ’s sake!” His voice was deflating, like a punctured balloon at a small child’s party -- I could almost hear the wails of anguish in the background. Small children crying and shrieking at the loss of their happy little balloon, at the loss of all the birthday parties in the future? Of the next graduation, of the next time that she would smile, of the next reunion at the airport, and you’re sitting at a funeral home instead with your brother next to you- no, no no no. No. No. No. An uneasy silence fell over the flickering kitchen -- one of the bulbs in the fixture was at the end of its line. Poor bulb, it was going to die. Did the bulb know it was going to die? Would the other bulbs be sad when it was gone? Christ, look at me, I’m thinking about dead bulbs.

Bulbs can’t feel pain, what was I talking about?

What was I doing? Why was I thinking all of this? Why could I feel her clawing at the back of my head, beating on the base of my skull, just trying to escape? But I couldn’t let her leave -35 if she left, then I would forget.

“Flowerpots” continued I didn’t want to forget, I didn’t want her to leave.

“Don’t you see why I want to leave?” Yarrow’s voice broke through the desperate rhythm in my head and pulled my attention back into the kitchen. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being around you, I’m tired of arguing with you. Just let me go for a while, Juno. I’m not leaving forever, alright? It won’t end like-” “NO!” I yelled. “I KNOW it will, and don’t you even TRY to tell me otherwise! I don’t want to lose you!”

“You’re losing me damn well enough,” he replied, voice low and unsteady. “You’re losing me, and you’re losing this shop too. I’ve seen you upstairs, staring at the picture on your bedside table.”

“Yarrow, you don’t understand. You don’t understand what that picture-” “No, I understand. I’ve seen the picture. You can’t let go. It’s been nine years and you’re still holding on to her, and you don’t realize what that’s doing to you.”

“Yarrow-” “Let her go, Juno.”

-Isabel Scott

Love and Pain

By Anonymous

36

“Rosewood” It was much heavier than he thought.

Of course, most caskets weren’t made to be opened after they were buried, and as Woods pried off the lid with his crowbar, he remarked upon how well-made this one was. Solid oak, trimmed with silver that, even after a lengthy dirt-bath, was gleaming, untarnished.

However, his associates weren’t here for the coffin. They were waiting to pry the gold and jewelry off of the stiff inside, like vultures circling carrion.

Hell, Woods thought, Might as well be vultures; pale, beak-nosed, balding men huddling in their cloaks. If he hadn’t been robbing a grave at the time, it might have been funny.

Unfortunately, now was not the time to dawdle. The wind howled, and the trees rustled, whispering curses on the trespassers. Woods was by no means superstitious, but the gale had chilled him to the bone, and his efforts left a throbbing ache in his arms. He might’ve mumbled and complained about it, too, had the cold not sent his teeth chattering and shaking.

For just a second, Woods found himself whisked away to another reality, one where he’d decided to stay at home, sipping something hard to keep the chill away and reading a novel next to the crackling hearth… *CRACK!* In an instant, he was back, his heart pounding, eyes glued to the overturned lid. He sucked in the cold air, sighed in relief, and stepped out of the hole he had dug.

The men behind him suddenly came alive, gliding toward the grave with glistening eyes and outreached hands, looking, in Woods’ opinion, a whole lot less human than the cold, dead sap they were soon to rob. A pale, gnarled hand emerged from its weighty cloak, and thrust a wad of cash into Woods’ hands. He turned away.

They would each crouch over the hole, stuffing their pockets with ill-gotten goods.

“Just a Rose”

by Isabel Scott

Woods would fill in the grave with his tarnished shovel.

They would fence their ‘product,’ returning whenever they had looked through burial records, and found out about some upper-crust being, or having been, buried there.

Frankly, Woods wanted nothing to do with them, shady and disreputable as they were, but their offers were too tempting. He just had to dig a hole every now and then.

Besides, it’s not like those poor sods in the six-foot motel really needed their valuables anymore. Only the Egyptians thought that you might need to take your junk into the afterlife, and Woods didn’t put much faith in dusty old mummies and dog-headed gods. He already had something to believe in: a private stock of finely-aged whiskey waiting for him at home… (.....)

The next day, Woods woke up at dawn, and the world was back to its usual state. No chilling winds, no open graves, no eerie men. Someone else had been out there last night, with all of that nonsense. Today, he was Woods: humble gravekeeper, and this Woods tended after graves in the daylight, trimming the shrubbery and washing the monolithic gravestones of the Rosewood private cemetery.

37

“Rosewood” continued This Woods knew his role and never stepped out of bounds. He cut the flowers and shrubs that enveloped the tombs of the rich and powerful, managing the thorny, dark, uncontrolled underside that beautiful flowers belied. This Woods wouldn’t have given a second thought to that blood-stained rose. Well, were it not for the fact that roses were not often stained with blood. The sudden realization snapped him out of his reverie, and the mechanical rhythms of his work. His gloves… They were wet, and reddened. But the flower had only looked moist, as if coated by morning dew… His hands felt sticky.

He was sweating, very slightly, feeling more nervous as time passed, and he continually gazed at his hands. It’s nothing to be nervous about… Probably just pigment from the damn plant. After all, the leaves were as strikingly green as ever. Untouched. Untainted.

It’s not as if he could have been cut, right? His gardening gloves were much too thick…

Woods shook himself awake. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten enough sleep. There was nothing wrong! Just some moisture, a little bit of pigment from the plant. He wasn’t some crazy person who hallucinates bleeding plants, or ghosts, or some other nonsense. He had real work to do. Plants to trim. Woods picked up his cutters, and turned away from the graves, plodding back toward the cemetery gates. … He’d need a new pair of gloves, though… (........)

It had been at least a week since it happened, and things had begun to get worse. He couldn’t get the roses out of his head, or off of his hands. Oh god, his hands. They were stained with a pale red, one that wouldn’t be washed or scrubbed or cleaned. Heh. Caught red-handed. He supposed that it might be fitting for someone, these unmistakable marks of guilt. But not him. All that he was guilty of was cutting those damn roses. That red crap must have soaked through his gloves, worthless scraps of cloth that they turned out to be. Even his new gloves were soaked, and felt sticky after tending to those bushes. He’d just begun to avoid that patch altogether, and it had grown into a huge mess of brambles, dotted with the blood-red buds. His employers had started to drop more and more hints, pushing him to deal with it, since there was a new burial site being prepared for another… formerly rich client. He would do no such thing. Maybe he’d consider it when they boosted his salary, so he could buy better gloves.

Hell, they could always get someone else to cut the damn things. A Woods who wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

The thought reminded him of something. His... other employers. He had just received one of their signature unmarked envelopes, informing him of the spot and time. As luck would have it, it was the exact same one his employers had been nagging him about; right next to that accursed patch of weeds. Looks like the other Woods would have some work to do.

Right now, he had nothing to worry about. That job was in three days, and it’s not like Woods would be doing anything that night. He’d be sleeping at home, his spotless reputation intact, his mind clean and free of guilt. No sign of anything strange… besides his hands. His damned, stained hands…

Maybe he could use his ‘paycheck’ to buy some better soap.

38

“Rosewood” continued (........)

It was time.

Friday night, twelve o’clock sharp. Woods leaves his home, and a man with red hands enters the cemetery, with naught but a shovel, a crowbar, and the clothes on his back.

He follows the winding, well-trodden dirt path through the graves to reach the center of the cemetery, where those of the oldest and richest blood would be laid to rest, guarded by ancient rosewood trees and the towering granite obelisks that marked their tombs.

The grave he was aiming for was easy to spot, in all of its modernness. Some decadent, gaudy thing of marble and gold. Probably dedicated to some old codger, last of his line and stinking rich, with a handful of distant relatives waiting for the day when they can get their grubby hands on each’s rightful inheritance.

And, of course, it was surrounded by roses.

The creamy-white marble had already been tainted with red, the ‘fingers’ of the undergrowth reaching to grab the one thing that it had not yet consumed.

All that sparkling, pure marble, spattered with blood, slowly dripping downward…

And yet the leaves, those deep-green leaves, were still spotless.

As was the ‘client’- only one this time, oddly enough -standing in front of the monument, cowering in his heavy cloak, probably disgruntled from how many times he had gotten it caught in the thorns that surrounded him.

The man gestured toward the him; the shovel in his reddened hands. He had not bothered to cover them up. Why would he? There was no way for the red man to hide.

No reason.

He gripped the rough, wooden handle, and started to dig. To dig, and to dig.

The dirt, freshly lain a day or so before, was the easiest part. He tossed it out of the hole, which grew as he worked, grew as he went deeper and deeper. That is, until he hit something solid. He merely felt it- his mind was dulled to the sharp clang of metal, though it had made his ‘friend’ flinch.

He used his hands to brush the remaining dirt off of the object. That could, at least, be washed off later. The coffin, now exposed, proud and defiant with its freshly-polished surface, would pose a greater challenge. The red man pulled out his crowbar, and wedged it into the miniscule gap between lid and body. He pulled and pried, straining against the weight. His face was about as reddened as his hands, blood flowing closer and closer to the skin as he worked his muscles to their limit.

And then, it gave out. The latches split apart, and the lid flew upward.

The man inside was still rather lifelike, though sawdust and preservatives filled the space under his wrinkled skin rather than red, warm blood and flesh. He clutched a small bouquet of roses, yet to wilt and die like their holder. Still, the corpse was not his concern. He would save that for the man impatiently gazing over his shoulder. He climbed out of the grave, stepping aside as he always did. Money was pressed into his hand, but he barely felt it as it met his cold, dulled palm.

39

“Rosewood” continued He pressed it into his pocket, as an automatic response, but his mind was focused elsewhere. He stared, the marble, or his hands, which blurred his sight with red, but at the negative space.

The black cloak, that blanket of night that draped over his associate, and the all-consuming tangle of green that crept toward the hole’s edges.

They seemed to pull the light into them, absorb the myriad of colors that touched their edges. They were untainted by the reddish dye that continued to pervade their surroundings.

That painful stain which had afflicted him so terribly, that mark of accusation. Why, maybe he should just give them a taste!

He has done nothing wrong. No, nothing. Yet he was being made the fool by some unknowable force. Why should he simply wait around and let the world pick and choose its targets? Man was given will, given agency, to act upon the world, and use it as his canvas!

Spirits, Gods, and lesser men be damned!

And, of course, that’s what they had been doing all along. To him. It was like some kind of mummy curse. They got some old dusty specter enraged at their theft and their trespass; leaving him holding the bag.

Caught red-handed. And he had let them do it.

Well, maybe it was time for a change.

The red man picked up his shovel.

He slipped toward the grave, each step as smooth and controlled as the stroke of a brush.

His footsteps blended into the gentle noise emanating from the grave; the rustling of hands in pockets, the soft tinkling of delicate chains and expensive baubles.

The red man straightened, poised and ready. He lifted his tool, prepared for the task at hand.

His arms pulled back, over his shoulder. His shovel gleamed white, reflecting the moon’s light.

He was quick, and deliberate, as any proper gardener would be when trimming the shrubs.

He hit something hard.

There was a clang.

This time, nobody flinched.

There was a soft thump.

Woods opened his eyes.

-Anonymous 40

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