Inscape 2014

Inscape

2014

Inscape

Inscape © 2014 by Inscape, Central Methodist University’s Magazine of

the Arts.

Inscape is one of the creative endeavors of the students, faculty, and staff at CMU. This unique publishing opportunity is one of many educational experiences that CMU’s Department of English, along with Sigma Tau Delta, provides. They have a distinguished record of placing students in graduate and professional study as well as in education and other professional fields. If you woud like further information about CMU’s Department of English contact:

Dr. John Porter

Department Chair - English

Central Methodist University

411 Central Methodist Square

Fayette, Missouri 65248-1192 jporter@centralmethodist.edu

(660) 248-6307 Or visit www.centralmethodist.edu/academics/english for more information.

The Inscape staff and members of Sigma Tau Delta wish to thank the staff at Modern Litho, Jefferson City, Missouri, for their assistance in producing and printing this issue.

All CMU students, faculty and staff are invited to submit their creative work for possible publication in Inscape. Please contact the editors at inscape@centralmethodist.edu if you have any questions or are interested in submitting for the next issue, which will be released in the spring of 2015.

Inscape Central Methodist University’s Magazine of the Arts A project of CMU’s Mu Lambda chapter of Sigma Tau Delta Issue 39 / 2014

Editors Jane Gonzalez-Meyer Jessica Travlos

Faculty Advisor Dr. Kavita Hatwalkar

Inscape was founded in 1975 by Central’s Tau Tau Tau honorary fraternity, Mu Lambda chapter of Sigma Tau Delta (the International English Honor Society), and the legendary Scribblers and Scrawlers.

Inscape is funded by CMU’s Student Government Association

Table of Contents Inscape Defined 6 Editor’s Note

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Poetry

Where I Am From - D. Franklin 8 Gordon Hadfield Award for Poetry

Escape - Z. Feurt 10 The Things She Saw - M. Moore 11 The Empty Shell - S. Gerhardt 12 Rooftops - B. Brown 13 Undying Light - K. Nolawski 14 Just Breathe - A. Eckhoff 15 A Family Thanksgiving - C. Warford 16 A Different Kind of Love, A Different Kind of Sonnet - S .Salandy 17 Have Faith - K. Johnson 18 So Some Say - R. Weaver 19 The Climb - B. Bailey 20 Uncontained - Z. Feurt 23 Distance - S. Salandy 24 Skin Deep Beauty - M. Furman 25 Forbidden Fruit - J. Gonzalez-Meyer 26 The Fallen, Broken Bird - A. Eckhoff 27

Fiction

Pigment of the Imagination - M. Moore 28

First Time - K. Kuoppamaki 32 The Split - H. Bernat 34 Miles Don’t Matter - C. Warford 40

Kilgore Trout Award for Fiction

Photography, Paintings, and Drawings

The Lone Fisherman - J. Travlos 45

My Universe - C. Earickson 46 Lower Yellowstone Falls - K. Davis 47 Rocky Stream - E. Schultz 48 A Somber Day in Fall - D. Stokes 49 Country Life - K. Forqueran 50 Busy Bee - D. Crowe-Boicourt 51

Elizabeth Stapleton Award for Art Education

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Bare - K. Forqueran 52 Pros and Cons - J. Gonzalez-Meyer 53 Orange Crisp - J. Graham 54 Litho - P. Johnson 55 Think It’s Thirsty - J. Painter 56 When Man and Nature Merge - A. Maschmeier 57 Trusting the Shepherd - J. Travlos 58 Sunshine in Tuscany - A. Maschmeier 59 Sunny Waterfall - E. Schultz 60 Stitches - C. Earickson 61 Forgotten Faith - D. Crowe-Boicourt 62 Kerlinda Blowing Kisses - A. Cauley 63 Still Afloat - J. Graham 64

Nonfiction

Stuck - K. Kellner 65

A Fishing Baptism - J. Travlos 68 It’s Complicated - J. Gonzalez-Meyer 71

Thomas F. Dillingham Award for Nonfiction Prose

Ten-Minute Play

Zombies - K. Kuoppamaki 74

Young Writer’s Day

Introduction - K. Hatwalkar 80 Alone - N. Heaton 81 Comic - K. Smentkowski 82 Controversy Creates Cash - S. Hart 83

Notes from the Contributors Award Winners

84 88

Front Cover

Gerlanda is Always the First One in Front of the Camera!

Photo by Amanda Cauley

Byrd Cooper Kirby Award

5

in • scape / in-skeip/ n.

Word coined by British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins for the individual or essential quality of a thing; the uniqueness of an observed object, scene, event, etc.

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Note From the Editors Zombies, death, rollercoasters, sex, fishing, delusional experiences‌this issue has it all! Brace yourself as you are about to embark on one of the craziest imaginative rides you have ever been on.

Are you prepared for the family lives portrayed in this issue? Do you think you can endure the anxiety of a first kiss? Will you be strong enough to handle the personalities of two people at once?

We hope so‌ There is no sugar-coating, no prancing ponies, no rainbows. Just life as we know it. Tragedy, joy, hope, faith, laughter, and of course love. One does not simply overlook these experiences; the realities of our world do not sleep.

Want something poignant and real to latch onto?

As you wish.

Jane Gonzalez-M eyer Jessica Travlos

7

Gordon Hadfield Award for Poetry Where I am From Danielle Franklin I am from Karen and Scott from different houses some small some big some crowded, from different cities and different states I am from blue eyes, but also brown and green.

From multiple falls and scars, and a gazillion tears it seems.

I am from warm spring days, and dark rainy nights.

I am from vanilla scented candles, and the sweet aroma of blackberry jasmine, mixed with spring meadow detergent.

I am from long nights, that seemed like a reoccurring nightmare.

From shouting voices.

I am from a broken heart, staying behind to pick up the pieces.

I am from I love you, I love you more, and not possibles.

From which well do you use.

From because so, to when you wanna talk, you just say your words.

From you’re my favorite sister to I’m your only.

I am from secret inside jokes to memories that last.

I am from the first birthday without him, though nothing seemed out of place.

I am from the night they held me tight until the tears suddenly stopped.

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I am from a new beginning.

From a new person, but still exactly the same.

A person who never leaves my side.

The one who gave me the blue eyes.

I am from Karen who taught me to be who I am.

From the laughs we share and the tears she wiped away.

I am from Joe, the guy who will never leave.

From the first time I saw him cry, and the hug that seems to whisper; everything will be okay.

From the big brother, always watching out for me.

I am from the click and flash of a camera.

From silly faces to real smiles.

I am from laughing so hard it hurts.

I am from the room where a pillow and blanket are draped over the couch from the night before.

From the place where there are pictures everywhere – with everyone so happy.

The place that is so small but still, somehow, fits everyone I need with me.

I am from movie and game nights.

From birthdays and Christmases.

From prayers and miracles.

From dress up to make believe.

I am from those moments.

The stepping stone, with my handprints, in the front walk‌ full of memories from these past homes, an essential element in those yet to come forever and always.

9

Escape Zachariah Feurt When wind gently sweeps aside you hair.

To reveal rain drop tears I know you care.

Then why O why do you stand by?

When those that love never see you cry.

When like a ripping wind they take all your love.

Open your bruised eyes to what’s above.

There see my hand reaching, reaching out?

To pull you up from that dark hell all about.

Please rise up off of your knees from the stain.

Lift your head up to the sun and smile again.

Don’t you know only you can take the high tide?

The jump to freedom where I stand arms wide.

I stand here resolute waiting with a plea.

For the day you set yourself free.

Did he give you his whole heart?

Or did he take yours at the start, And break it in hands full of rage?

Thought to be a fairy tale on a stage.

Is in truth a story of sorrows and pain.

Take the high path before your soul will wane.

Rise above and out. Reach up from devastation, And I will place your feet on a steady foundation.

Where again laughs sound will be heard.

Where of life’s meaning you will be assured.

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The Things She Saw Maggie Moore As leaves change their colors and slowly wither into nothingness, her structure defies all elements.

Laden with brick, she stands tall above all the city lights and tangled vines.

Time has no meaning, as glimpses of the past merge with flashes on the future.

And all she saw.

On a quilted blanket, a family of four congregates around a wooden basket.

With bowed heads and clasped palms, grace is poured from their lips in a heap of whispers.

As children chase the butterfly, parents break bread.

And all she saw.

On a stone carved bridge, a suited groom proposes to his bashful bride.

Kneeling in each other’s embrace, she dreams of intricate lace cushioned by an abundance of red roses.

As the baby-faced boy turns into a handsome man.

And all she saw.

On a rickety swing, a curly-haired youngster memorizes her parent’s every detail.

The couple dances in an open field, the long grass swaying at their ankles giving way to movement.

As new blessings are born, endless possibilities emerge.

And all she saw.

On a park bench, two feeble bodies toss crumbs on cement terrain.

When the morsels tumble on the ground, a flock of birds suddenly fall from the heavens.

Riding the wind they become as one.

And they sang a beautiful song.

The things she saw.

11

The Empty Shell Samantha Gerhardt Within this shell sits a tired old soul Who’s fought many battles to the last It’s broken and tired and needs a rest From the victories and losses of the past Someday renewed, recharged and restored This soul will return to fight But for right now it must rest and sleep Savoring the darkness of each night Within the shadows it may roam In its deep dark sleep and slumber Not winning or losing but watching it all Cheering victories with each thunder A soul must rest for battles to come Licking wounds, mending hearts in the chest But when it returns it’ll be strong and bold Putting both challenger and suitor to test It’s a brave old soul, it’s been around For nigh on many, many year It saw the changes of what’s to come Facing each dawn without fear If it were yours, would you protect its heart Nurturing its spiritual growth Or shove it aside in a darkened corner Stunting minds like a stagnant moat If all goes well this soul will rest And grow in its spiritual manner Until the time our lord calls it again To walk Earth in its mystical cantor 12 Inscape 2014

Rooftops Bailey Brown I still think of you On the days You would love.

The days where it rains Heavy on the rooftops, Thunder rumbling through The hills and valleys.

I can see you then.

Walking through the downpour Droplets clinging to eyelashes, Your shirt, your skin, Anything to hold on to.

I can see you Tilt your head back Hair falling down in messy waves Kissing your bare shoulders With loose strands

I can see you Laugh in spite Of everything.

Motion me over, Smile turning rain Into drops of sun,

I can see you Reach out to me, Grab my hand to dance Like two crazy teenagers Madly, helplessly in love.

And when I think of you,

When I see you, I’m still left Breathless Alone.

13

Undying Light Kyle Nolawski Could I destroy this wall which shields your heart?

Tomorrow I should have what isn’t mine.

The distance that I feel splits me apart, but carry on I must and write these lines.

There has to be some way for me to win, but I have yet to find the way from here.

Should I throw down the shackles that hold men, or keep this prison that has stopped your fear?

Can I become the one your heart so needs, or am I to be put in with the rest?

Should souls possessed with love, each other feed?

With these, my questions, I’m forever pressed.

But somehow in my place I always sit, content inside, your light forever lit.

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Just Breathe Alexis Eckhoff Pale, translucent; Thin, blue veins, Filled to the brim.

Fragile, easily cracked.

When the blade meets skin, like The touch of one’s first kiss.

Crimson, so violently beautiful, As it surfaces and drips seductively.

Rose petals against Freshly fallen snow.

Still and waiting, Uneven, pulse faults, Trailing the disappearing sun.

Hush, Hush Mountains appear quickly, Flowing vastly across the screen, Disappointment following relief.

Just Breathe, I’m still here.

15

A Family Thanksgiving Courtney Warford Grandparents closely watch as their house fills with family, Smiling faces peer through the glass front door.

Their grown children chatter with memories of their childhood home, Brothers and sisters are engulfed in hugs.

A tired college student straggles in, suitcase in tow, Her smile brightens as her cold body is warmed with love.

Youths yell and giggle as they are reunited with their cousins, Their aunts, uncles, and parents smile at the times they share.

A husband watches as his wife holds their toddler, Their second baby is due in June.

Cars with out of town plates fill the driveway, The house is filled with smells of wonderful food, Their hearts are filled with adoration for one another.

This time comes once a year, Goodbyes come all too soon.

Parents are back to work, Children are back to school.

Brief phone calls keep us connected—a simple “I love you” does the trick.

Until next year when we drive that long, gravel path, And gather around the dark, wooden table, Joining hands in a Thanksgiving prayer.

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A Different Kind of Love, A Different Kind of Sonnet Shakirah Salandy It was a love that made others jealous; it was clear to see it was meant to be.

Bystanders see a love that’s timeless, a flawless romance like those on TV. While summer heated passion like a flame, winter drew them closer to each other.

And in that year they shared a last name, so strange a wedding; missing a mother.

Friends and family were put at a distance, public affection differed from private.

Married life was a lonely existence, she stayed silent and tried to deny it.

Flaunted love so perfect we missed the cues, never saw her broken heart or the bruise.

17

Have Faith Kamryn Johnson When I look back at my high school years And think about all the tears From when I woke up every day To when I bowed my head at night to pray “God please stop the pain” “Please stop every day the words they rain” I wouldn’t be living my life today If God didn’t help me push through and say “Everything they say only makes me stronger” “My problems may be big, but my God is larger” I understand for the others out there The ones that get bullied, for finding God is rare My advice to them, as I gave myself back then Have faith in God, he always wants in He wants in your hearts forever and always And he will be right beside you during your war in the hallways

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So Some Say Roger Weaver Some say that by design as creatures we are unfit Some say that because of nature we are disillusioned and sick Some say that it was nurture that gave us peace Cradled in hands divine is what gave us our release But some say again that we were caged and abused I disagree with the latter but that’s simply what I choose Others say that by effort alone we could succeed Following in footsteps of giants like toddlers without heed Decisions made swift and ideals held high They all seem to agree on that but it’s their ends that are nigh So some of them say war and others still think the same But few talk of this but remember when it had a name Some think aloud while others bite their tongues Blind, deaf and mute - then they might as well be dumb So while few speak of peace and others still ramble Giving rise to false hope, they throw the world in shambles A gamble is what they seek but a future is what they require So what say you to these threats when it’s your choice we desire?

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The Climb Bailey Brown

She thinks

About the sky.

Where the sun and stars And moon and birds live.

Where lazy clouds sleep, waiting To cover up an overbearing sun And falcons streak across the sky, Searching for something They may never find.

She starts to climb.

She thinks

About the sky.

How it might feel To have nothing but space Ahead of her. To spread wings And take hostage in the wind.

She would no longer fight For the direction she wanted To be blown in. I will simply Let it be.

And she climbs higher.

She thinks

About the sky.

How it would look From a thousand feet up.

Would she be scared? Afraid?

Elated to be away from what Anchors her down? Drowns her? Maybe She would be sick, looking down At everything beneath herChange her mind. No. I won’t.

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She climbs higher.

She thinks

About the sky.

And how one day People might do the same.

Maybe they would look up And think of her. Maybe they would Pull her back down to earth, Rip off her wings, take her freedom, Imprison her inside herself, She laughs. No one will ever Think of me.

She pulls to the top.

She thought

About the sky.

As she stands and brushes off her hands Her breath is stolen And her jaw drops in awe For she has found heaven.

Hills roll beneath her Wrinkling solid sheets of rock Yellow and orange and red and green Leaves and bushes and trees and flowers Littering the earth below her.

Change. It could Change.

She stands on the edge.

She thinks

About the sky.

And how it looks so blue Standing from so high up. “You can turn back now,�

The tiniest voice whispers, pleading.

Brush it off, shake it off, so much blue.

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The Climb (cont.)

Bailey Brown She thinks about the sky And the blue and the birds and the bees And the sun and the stars and the sky And the possibility that you just might Finally remember me When you decide to look up

She thinks

About the sky.

As she takes in one deep Shuddering breath.

She lifts her arms, Lowers her eyes

And spreads her wings.

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Uncontained Zachariah Feurt

Men divided cannot stand.

Like a thousand tiny grains of uncontained sand.

They will be washed out to the deep blue sea.

Great they will not be...

23

Distance Shakirah Salandy Curbside at the airport, Eyes filled with more water than the vastest of oceans.

Invisible gumball stuck in my throat, Still after three years my vulnerable heart worries.

I miss your touch, a longing for your affection.

Skyping and texting don’t make my bed less lonely You enter my mind when I rise and rest, And every second in between.

I observe the superficial love, it makes me cringe.

Do I pass judgment because I’m bitter?

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder; stronger But I only feel mine growing weaker.

Far from flawless but that’s what I miss the most, Too far to reach with outstretched hands.

Memories revive me like a summer sunrise, It’s passion that is everlasting.

Not ideal, not a first choice.

Romance is not convenient, Nor easy like a one night rendezvous But what’s a few hundred miles, When my destination ends with you.

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Skin Deep Beauty Mariah Furman Skin deep beauty shallow, withheld.

Stone emotion.

Distant, fading. farther, farther Teasing, torture.

Curled smile cold shoulder.

And yet closer, closer Hands touch by accident.

Coy, treachery, Afraid. Naked.

Standing still.

Beauty fails fleeting frantically away from sober eyes.

25

Forbidden Fruit Jane Gonzalez-M eyer She was a young blossom, untouched and so pure Not aware of the danger that lurked in her presence His subtle intentions; evil and manipulative to the core He slowly grinned, a snake prepared to encompass its prey He showered her with compliments, making empty promises She was hesitant, remembering the one rule she shouldn’t disobey “What a silly girl,” he’d say, “Just like a child, obviously too afraid” She felt the sting of teasing at her expense; sudden interest in the challenge He became persistent and forceful, “How courageous and powerful you could be” His coercive words slid slyly into her mind and the blossom succumbed to his appealing request She felt limitless and a burst of freedom; the serpent allowed a cunning grin to slip Disgust and insecurity swept over her being, and in a panic she sought his aid But he slithered away, leaving her exposed and stripped of innocence The blossom was tainted; purity no longer existed

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The Fallen, Broken Bird Alexis Eckhoff Hear the cry of the fallen, broken bird.

Beautiful, but very unexpected.

Carrying the world on her wings, As her heart perishes.

Beautiful, but very unexpected, Lost in the process of falling.

As her heart perishes, In this imperfect place.

Lost in the process of falling, From being pushed off the branch, In this imperfect place, Where a solid tree begins to rot.

From being pushed off the branch, A peach blushed with bruises.

Where a solid tree begins to rot.

Let her fly away.

A peach blushed with bruises, Beautiful, but very unexpected.

Let her fly away.

Hear the cry of the fallen, broken bird.

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Kilgore Trout Award for Fiction Pigment of the Imagination Maggie Moore

It runs in our family, synesthesia that is. My grandfather used to sit me on his lap and tell me stories about his time writing codes for the government. He’d sometimes embellish the stories by adding in Russian spies or telling about nuclear bombs and stuff.

As a boy I’d run around our family’s farm and pretend to shoot hay bales with my favorite toy gun. Little did I know, Grandpa didn’t wrestle the mafia. Instead he wrote codes, mathematical ones for the many governments’ technologies. His type of synesthesia allowed him to see numbers as colors. So for example, he saw the number four as the color blue and the number five as a bright neon yellow. You see, synesthesia is when two of a person’s senses intertwine in their mind. My grandfather’s synesthesia gave him the tools to acquire a knack for math. In his brain, complicated mathematical formulas became simple artwork, as he could visualize each number. At first, Grandpa was positive that the synesthesia gene died off after him in our family line. After all, my mom was perfectly normal in every sense. At first, I didn’t show any signs of a brain dysfunction either. However, that all changed shortly after I entered grade school.

I remember in second grade I broke Jimmy’s favorite Hot Wheels car. It was small and had smooth edges with a lightning bolt branded onto the side. Of course with my luck, my nimble fingers popped off one of the wheels with ease. Jimmy’s face suddenly tensed up and, in a split second, he lunged forward. The next thing I knew I was screaming, and my temple was on fire, but Jimmy never laid a hand on me. It was what I saw that caused my unfortunate distress. When his eyes narrowed on my face and his blood started pulsing with his veins protruding, I saw red. Only a special kind of color. It was as if every hue of red was combined into one immaculate shade--so piercing that my eyes shook in their sockets. From there it moved to my temple, finally settling in the confines of my brain; all I could do was scream. This is the first memory I have of my gift or in some cases a curse.

That day I was dragged down my elementary school 28 Inscape 2014

hallway to meet with the school nurse, because I had a so-called “mental break down.” In the main office, all I could do was cry from the intense pain pulsing in my brain. I tried to explain to the lady in scrubs that it was the colors that made my head be consumed with agonizing numbness. But when I opened my mouth to speak, my words came out in tangles. My dad picked me up from school, still in his mud-caked overalls, and we drove home.

I vaguely remember making it to my bed before I passed out. I awoke to an argument transpiring in the living room. I stayed frozen in my bed and listened intently.

Grandfather’s voice blurted out, “He has the gift.”

Father responded in a low growl, “You’re delusional. The boy just had a bad headache, nothing sleep won’t fix.”

Grandfather paused and said, “You don’t understand. He doesn’t have the same type of gift I have. But I’ve seen his kind before. When I was getting tests done in the psych ward as a boy, when they were trying to understand my condition, I met a fellow like him. His name was Willis and he was the same age as our Charlie. You know how I see colors as numbers; well, this fellow read people’s emotions as colors. I witnessed one of his meltdowns in the lobby of the hospital. One of the nurses had gotten a telegram from the army, saying her husband died on duty. She was a mess. She was bent over as if punched in the stomach, shaking her head in disbelief. When the woman started crying, Willis made a big commotion; he started yelling about the colors the woman made. He had his hands pressed over his ears, wobbling about in all directions like a maniac. It was a spitting image of what happened to Charlie today.”

The debate continued long into the day, when my father finally gave into the inevitable, saying, “Ok then what do we do?”

After that day, Grandfather helped me control my gift. He had done a lot of research about the different types of synesthesia when he was diagnosed. We spent the afternoon together, sitting around the kitchen table, doing mental exercises that taught me how to block out the emotions of my classmates. The journey was hard, especially after Grandfather died. I even had to skip the funeral because there were too many mournful people dressed in 29

black; it wasn’t safe for someone like me. After he was buried, I realized I had no one around to even remotely relate to what I was cursed with. I would pray and plead to some higher power to make me color blind like everyone else.

As I grew up, I tried my best to stay to myself. I knew by staying away from my peers, I wouldn’t have to deal with their many human emotions. It was lonely. Most days I would skip lunch and sneak out onto the empty basketball courts. I would lay out on the black asphalt and watch the clouds pass by, while feeling the breeze brush over my barren face. And in classes, I would keep my nose in a book and pretend I was somewhere else.

But somehow, my synesthesia always seemed to disrupt my life.

In middle school, I told my mom that Father didn’t love her anymore. When I looked into my mom’s eyes, I could see she was holding back tears, trying to laugh off my rude remark. But my heart sank deep into my chest, because when I looked at Father, I saw a gray fog that ominously engulfed him. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but their colors didn’t match up. Six months later, a rumor spread around town that Father was having an affair with a PTA mom. That rumor ended up being true. A few days later, we left our farm and moved into a trailer park on the other side of town.

My home life only got worse after the split. Mom began drinking to ease her pain and began bringing home strange men from the local bar. Even though I desperately longed to help my mother, to pour her whiskey down the sink, I couldn’t allow myself to get close. The alcohol transformed my once well-mannered mom into a stranger consumed with negative emotions. Whenever I looked at her, the colors filled my brain. I saw blue for sadness, red for anger, orange for confusion…and the list went on. The headaches would last for days at a time; sometimes I would be restrained to my bed. So when I was eighteen, the pain forced me to leave town, but more importantly my mother.

I eventually landed in a small town in Oregon, working on an assembly line for a car company. The tedious tasks freed my mind from those around me. Throughout my travels, I have yet to find someone like me, someone who also doesn’t fit in a world full 30 Inscape 2014

of emotions. I have convinced myself that just maybe they were smart and decided to live out in the woods somewhere in seclusion.

Sometimes I find myself dreaming of living in a tent under the stars in a planet free of humans. Luckily with age, my gift has become easier to deal with. The colors are beginning to fade, as the wrinkles begin to draw lines across my pale skin. I don’t think it’s as though I’m becoming more oblivious. Rather, I’m learning not to care. I’ve seen so many emotions in my day that I started seeing people as ticking time bombs.

So I say, “Why stress over something when they eventually explode?”

31

First Time Kristopher Kuoppamaki

I never would have imagined our first intimate moment lasting no longer than the blink of an eye. The truth was though, this was exactly what happened. I couldn’t believe it; I almost couldn’t even recall what happened in those few, quick seconds.

Dumbfounded and embarrassed in my far less than stellar performance, I quickly thought of what I would say to mask that awkward moment or an excuse that still made me seem at least a little bit of a man.

The scenario I had played through in my head, since the first day we had met, was one in which I completely blew her away. One where she would brag to all her friends the next day, remember forever, and until the day she died, use as her standard of perfection. In reality though, it was exactly the opposite. She probably would go tell her friends how horrible it was, and how pathetic an attempt I made. Knowing the moment was over and there was no way my first impression was that of Mr. Stud, I blurted what any boy would in this completely embarrassing moment.

“Please don’t think I’m bad,” I say softly, now that my confidence had been completely crushed.

“It’s okay,” she replies, almost as if she had done something embarrassing too, resting her head against my chest.

This made me feel a little bit better for some reason, but I was still determined to redeem myself. I had to, she was so cute and sweet, and I couldn’t let that be the way the night ended. As we sat there holding each other close, I built up the courage to ask her the same question which previously made me look like a fool.

“Can we, one more time?” I ask quietly to her, as I run my hands back and forth over her soft shoulders.

“Yes,” she says simply, with a little eagerness in her voice.

She pulls her head away from my chest as our eyes meet, full of light, and we lean in for one more kiss. This time though it’s long and passionate, my head spins from the feeling I get, and I almost lose my balance, stepping sideways to catch myself. We 32 Inscape 2014

pull away after one small smooch to finish it off and we share a smile as she leans in again and rests her head against my chest.

I hold her tight, making a small fist of victory behind her for a moment, which she cannot see, then move my hands up along her back and continue to rub her shoulders. I feel manly again, happy, and content this time. The kisses were always amazing after that, and until this day I’ve never known why I was so scared to kiss her that first time.

33

The Split Heather Bernat

She walked through the swinging door and up to the glass window. The blonde haired receptionist slid the window open and asked, “What’s your name and what doctor are you here for?”

“Uhm…Sandi Phillips and I’m here to see Dr. Robinson.”

“Alright hun. Have a seat and he will be with you shortly.”

Sandi sat down in a brown uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. She couldn’t believe what had happened in the past few days. Her life had literally changed in the matter of seconds. No one around her would be able to understand what she was going through, only a select few could, and they weren’t considered lucky.

Sandi grew up in a small country town, Hatton, about twenty minutes from Columbia, Missouri. She worked at a local diner and everybody knew her. Her grandmother raised her in the small town, but had recently passed and now she only had her boyfriend, Brandon, and her roommate, Molly. Brandon and Sandi had been together since high school; everyone called them high school sweethearts. After graduation Sandi stayed at home to take care of her grandma and Brandon went to college in Boston. After two years of having a long distance relationship and not being able to see each other very often, they were still going strong. Sandi was excited because Brandon was finally coming home in a week for a friend’s bachelor party and Sandi was going to get to spend some much needed time with him.

Before Brandon came home though, there were a lot of little details to take care of, like her roommate, Molly. Molly was never around, never in contact, and always left the apartment a mess. The only good thing about Molly was the fact that she always had her half of the bills paid on time and in cash. To be honest, Sandi couldn’t even remember what Molly looked like really. Molly was always gone; Sandi assumed that she was always at work in Columbia. The girl did have money; she paid her half of the bills in cash for Christ’s sake. Sandi had less than a week to clean up Molly’s mess in the apartment, do laundry, and plan a romantic dinner for two. She needed to get going if she wanted 34 Inscape 2014

everything to be perfect.

The week seemed to last forever, but it was finally Friday and Sandi would get to see Brandon for the first time since the summer. His plane would land in St. Louis at two o’clock and he would finally be home, in her apartment, in her arms, by five.

Luckily, Sandi was able to get the whole weekend off from the diner to be able to spend as much time with Brandon as she could.

Though he would be spending Saturday night out with the guys, she would be waiting at home when he returned from the night. So, until Brandon got here she was going to keep herself busy doing errands, fixing last minute details, and primping herself for the big night. As Sandi was getting ready to head out to the grocery store to buy ingredients for her romantic dinner, her cell phone went off.

It was Brandon.

“HEY BABE! Where are you?” Sandi exclaimed into the phone.

Brandon stumbled in his reply, “Hey doll face. I am at the airport getting ready to board. Jeff called and they had to move the bachelor party to tonight. I’m sorry hun, but we have to move dinner to tomorrow. But think of it this way, we get to spend the whole day and night together.”

Sandi replied with a quiet, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry hun.”

“No it is fine. I just really wanted to see you, that’s all.”

“I know. I will see you first thing tomorrow morning though. Be ready by nine and we will spend the day out on the town. Okay?”

Brandon knew that Sandi loved walking around downtown Columbia with him and just window-shopping. “Oh alright,” Sandi giggled. “Just text me and let me know when you land and get into town so I know you are safe.”

“Good! All right hun, I have to go… I will talk to you in a few hours.”

With that they were off the phone and Sandi slumped into her couch with a huff. Sandi thought to herself, “So much for our romantic night that I had planned.” Sandi decided to finish cleaning up the house and head to her room to take a nap… that would make the time pass by quickly she figured. As Sandi laid down to 35

take her nap, she wondered where Molly was and when she would be home again to trash the apartment. Sandi let that thought sink into her head as she drifted off into a deep sleep. At the same time Molly was waking up from her exhausted state.

Molly rolled over in bed to look at the clock, but there was one problem… her clock wasn’t sitting on the bedside table like it should be. She sat up in bed. “What the hell am I doing in here?” She said out loud to herself. She was sitting in the middle of Sandi’s bed. She thought to herself, “last night had to be more of a fucked up night then I thought.” She crawled out of bed and peeked out the door to make sure that Sandi wasn’t in the apartment and wouldn’t flip out on her because she was in her room. The apartment was empty and Molly headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat. It was four o’clock and she had a little over an hour to eat, shower, and get to work. She swung open the pantry door, grabbed a box of granola bars and headed to the shower.

Stepping into her bedroom after her shower, Molly noticed that Sandi had nicely laid out her clothes that had been in the washer. She thought that Sandi really had to be dumb to not realize that she worked at a strip club by the clothes that she owned.

Grabbing an empty duffle bag, Molly threw all the clothes lying on the bed into the bag along with her two pairs of work stiletto heels and her make-up bag. She had to get a move on if she didn’t want to be late and have her dirt-bag boss, Steve, take away from her time on stage.

Molly rolled into the parking lot of the club five minutes before all the girls were to have their meeting about the lineup for the night. She made it in the nick of time and that was a good thing, because bills were due next week. She grabbed her bag and headed in the back door of the club; it was going to be a long night, just like every other night of her life. She headed to the main floor where all the other girls were and sat down next to her friend Brandi. Steve walked out onto the stage and started rattling off times, stage places, and names. After the main stage times were announced, Jeff started talking about the special events for the night. Molly heard her name being called along with a few others, Brandi’s included.

36 Inscape 2014

“We have a bachelor party coming in tonight. There will be about fifteen guys; they ordered a VIP package and will get the backroom to themselves with unlimited drinks and food. You all will be working the backroom all night. You can keep your individual tips and whatever group tips will get split. Molly and Brandi, you two will be working the stage for the opening.”

Molly and Brandi replied at the same time, “No problem.”

Steve replied, “Alright then. Time to suit up or shut up, ladies.”

After the girls were dismissed, they headed back to the dressing room to start getting ready. They had an hour until the show started and about two hours til the group was supposed to arrive. The girls were doing hair, make-up, and layering on the skimpy clothing. Anyone walking by the door to the dressing room probably would have thought that it smelled like a French whorehouse, but to the girls it was just the smell of another hard night at work. The music was bumping, the lights were down low, and the sound of men shouting raged above the music. The night was young and it was show time; the group entered the backroom and the drink orders began. The group was already a little messed up from their pre-club events. Molly could hear them shouting from the backroom and they sounded like a rowdy crowd, which is always good for tips.

Steve came into the backroom that Brandi and Molly were standing in. “Looking good ladies,” he said as his eyes roamed up and down both of their bodies. “You all ready?”

Molly glanced at Brandi and they both nodded their heads yes. Steve winked at them and headed out to the stage to introduce the girls to the group of guys that were growing impatient waiting for some action and had started harass the girls that had to work the floor first.

Steve’s voice came over the speakers, “Welcome gentlemen. We hope your night is exciting, relaxing, and fun. To begin tonight’s event, we have two lovely ladies taking the stage.

Say heeelllloooo to Molly the Body and Sweet Candi Brandi!”

The bass started beating and Brandi took the stage first.

Molly waited until Brandi gave her the cue and then she took the stage. It wasn’t until she hit center stage that she looked up and 37

met eyes with the men sitting around. She had finished her first move on the pole when she heard the yelling coming from the side of the stage. She looked over to find a guy yelling the name Sandi and trying to break away from the bodyguard to get on stage. The guy was staring at her, yelling like a total creep. Molly started backing up watching the guy. He broke away and jumped on stage; Molly panicked and turned to run away. She hadn’t realized how far she had already backed up and when she turned she lost her footing and fell off the stage, hitting her head on a table on the way down.

Sandi woke up to yelling voices, loud music, and a pounding headache. When she opened her eyes, she saw Brandon’s face leaning over her saying, “Sandi! Sandi! What the hell were you thinking?”

“What are you talking about? Where am I? Why does it smell so bad?” Sandi replied as she began to sit up holding her head.

“Did you think this would be a better way of making money? Look at you! You’re a mess!”

Sandi looked down to find herself half naked in front of a room full of people. What the hell was going on? Were people playing a joke on her? By that time she heard a girl yelling, “Get away from her you prick! Molly it’s okay. The police and ambulance are coming!”

“Molly? Molly, my roommate? Is she here?” Sandi questioned.

By this time Sandi was looking around at the people staring at her. All of them had confused looks on their faces. “This can’t be good,” Sandi thought. The room was spinning and everything went dark.

Sandi woke up in a hospital bed. She was hooked up to machines that were checking her heart rate and pumping fluids into her body. When she turned her head, she saw Brandon half asleep in the chair next to the bed. As she tried to move her legs, Brandon stirred and jumped out of the chair to the bedside.

“What’s going on? Why am I here?” Sandi asked.

“Babe, we found out why you had been sleeping so much,” Brandon stated.

38 Inscape 2014

“Why?”

“You aren’t sleeping. You are losing time. You have a disorder, hun.” Brandon was cautious as the next few words flowed out of his mouth, “You have… split personalities.”

The next few hours were full of tests, questions, confusion, and pills. Sandi was finally released from the hospital a few days later. Brandon had made arrangements to stay with her. Since Brandon stayed with her all the time, he finally got to meet Molly.

She was nothing like the sweet Sandi he loved, but that wasn’t going to turn him away. Sandi needed help and he was going to be there for her, no matter what. The first step was getting her to psychiatrist and that was on the agenda for tomorrow.

The blonde haired receptionist slid the window open and asked, “What’s your name and what doctor are you here for?”

“Uhm…Sandi Phillips and I’m here to see Dr. Robinson.”

“Alright hun. Have a seat and he will be with you shortly.”

Sandi knew this was going to be a rough and confusing time. As she sat down in a brown chair she looked over to see Brandon’s smiling face. He grabbed her hand and soon a nurse called her name to come back. They entered a small room with a large couch and two chairs. Sandi settled onto the couch and Brandon sat down in the chair closest to her. He reached out for her hand and Sandi looked at him with a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong Sandi?” Brandon questioned.

“I’m just worried that they won’t be able to help me and that you will leave.”

Brandon looked at her and stared with disbelief. “Babe. I’m here for the long haul. No matter what.”

As he finished his sentence the doctor walked into the room. Brandon leaned back and watched as he began talking with Sandi. He reached into his pocket and held the velvet box with the perfect ring in it that he had since the beginning of this trip. He jumped slightly when Sandi called his name.

“Will you be staying with her until we have this all under control?” the doctor asked.

“Yes. I will be here. No need to worry about that.”

39

Miles Don't Matter Courtney Warford

When I was nine years old, he pushed me from the ladder of his tree house. That warranted a bright pink cast and a lecture from dad. I was his sister and he was supposed to be looking out for me, not hurting me. From that point on, I was his responsibility when we were together. Something Mom and Dad made sure he never forgot about, even into his teenage years.

No one wanted to drag their little sister around, especially not a big bad fifteen-year-old boy. It was pretty obvious that I was an awkward twelve-year-old girl. I donned braces and glasses and my gangly legs and lanky arms made me quite the sight. Our mom forced him to take me on his adventures with friends, and I was left behind on countless bike rides and hikes through the woods.

At this point in our lives, no one would have ever expected us to eventually become great friends.

When I started my freshman year, I wasn’t the annoying tag along he had grown up with. I started to physically mature, trading my glasses for contacts and a ponytail for long, blonde curls. His friends started to take notice. I was fifteen, feeling confident and looking to make a name for myself in high school. My braces came off, my hair was longer, and I was the only freshman on the varsity soccer team-- a huge accomplishment.

He wasn’t happy with that, and he made sure to tell his friends that his younger sister was not ever going to be on the market. I’m certain that countless threats were made when I wasn’t listening. It eventually got to the point where he was waiting in the parking lot to pick me up directly after soccer practice.

The day he told me he was going to be leaving for England to study abroad was a day I’ll never forget. I felt more abandoned than those days in our childhood when I ran back to the house, covered in sweat, crying because he and his friends had left me behind.

“You can’t leave,” I cried as I stood at the top of the stairs.

I couldn’t believe he was leaving for an entire semester. It seemed like forever in my book. He was going to miss birthdays, holidays, and some of the most important moments of my senior 40 Inscape 2014

year if he wasn’t back in time. I wasn’t okay with his absence.

“I have to leave, Megster,” he said, calling me by the annoying nickname he gave me years ago.

Tears cascaded down my cheeks as if someone had stabbed a hole in a soft side swimming pool. I couldn’t do anything to stop them as I ran into his arms begging him not to leave our family.

“I’ll be back just after the new year, depending on my schedule,” he said confidently.

He was wearing a familiar black t-shirt that read “Red Sox Baseball” and his jeans. He didn’t look like he was about to leave for London. He looked like he was going out with friends. I couldn’t go with him to the airport that day, it was too heartbreaking. He walked out the wooden front door that was slammed one too many times in its day. I felt as if the usual creak was louder that afternoon, signaling its sadness.

All of these memories flooded back as I stared at the blank computer screen the evening prior to my eighteenth birthday.

Blake was the brother who made an obnoxiously big deal about the smallest things, and he made sure he was always the one to tell me happy birthday first.

Not second, not at one in the afternoon. He told me when the clock struck midnight.

The celebratory phrase was yelled into my room, no matter if I was sleeping, on the phone, or doing homework. His obnoxious voice startled me each and every time and he would hug me and laugh. I glanced at the picture of us on my desk taken the day of his graduation. He was wearing his “million dollar smile” and was cloaked in a blue graduation robe. His eyes were shining and our mom and dad looked on with pride from beside us.

“Megan, we need to take a picture.” He exclaimed while digging the phone out of his pocket and tossing it to Andy, his best friend.

“Smile!”

I grinned from ear to ear, I was so proud of him.

I wondered what he was doing in London. His classes were going well the last time we had spoken and his roommate was a local named Daniel. He had done the “typical tourist” and seen Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and the London Eye that week.

41

Minutes passed, followed by hours. I could hear the clock ticking which was strange because I only had a digital alarm clock.

It must have been my mind.

He never missed my birthday. The clock was nearing midnight; the time was officially 11:58 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. It had gotten dark early, and I felt like my eyelids were being tied down by anvils. After a long day of school, I was ready to be engulfed in the comfort of my bed.

“Please Blake, don’t forget about me,” I wished out loud.

I was missing him and that disgusting, yellow Monte Carlo that was always parked in the driveway. Scratch that, it was always parked directly in the middle with no room for other vehicles. The car smelled like old Burger King trash and Coronado Cherries. He tried to mask the smell of the food but incredibly unsuccessful. His absence left the house unusually clean. His dirty laundry wasn’t strewn across our shared bathroom, his shoes weren’t kicked off inside the door, and his black North Face jacket wasn’t tossed habitually over the left arm rest of the couch.

I was almost knocked off of my chair when the Skype tone finally rang through my speakers. I had forgotten to turn them off after my latest jam session.

“I miss you!” I exclaimed as soon as the video connected.

I could have sworn I saw a hint of homesickness cross his face, but it was quickly replaced by that warm smile I missed.

“Hey sissy poo, what are you up to?” he asked.

He rhymed and didn’t even realize it.

Rolling my eyes, I fought back a laugh. Thankfully that pushed the thought of crying even further back into my mind.

“I’ve been studying. When are you coming home?”

Oh no. I always had a problem of speaking before thinking, but this took the cake. It had upset me, and I saw a hint of sadness on his face again.

“I told you Meg, I’ll be home around Christmas. I miss you, but you can’t keep asking,” he said firmly.

That hurt.

“I’m sorry.” The tears fell down my cheeks before I could even think of stopping them.

“Don’t cry, I know it seems like a long time, but two 42 Inscape 2014

months will pass before you know it.”

There was a rustling in the background of his video and I knew what was coming next. He was going to have to go. Our Skype calls were never long, but they usually lasted over thirty minutes. This one hadn’t even been ten. It was early there, and he needed to get ready for classes. He had forgotten; he didn’t have time to remember something so small. He was busy doing something he had dreamed of, and a little sister didn’t need to get in his way.

“I have to go Megan, but I promise we can talk again soon.

Maybe even tomorrow.” That was it. I was going to start crying.

My mouse hovered over the “end call” button and I was going to click it quickly before I erupted into inconsolable tears when something flickering caught my eye. A smile covered his face and a cake, decorated with 18 candles, was placed in front of the camera by Daniel. A small wave and smile came from his roommate before shouting attacked my ears.

Those damn speakers.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They displayed the cake with pride. I laughed at the horrible writing scrawled across the top and the drooping frosting. It looked as if a third grader practicing their cursive writing had been paid to write “Happy 18th.” I loved it anyway.

“We ran out of frosting to write the whole thing out, so I hope this is okay. We aren’t very good at baking things.”

“I thought you forgot.” I wiped away a tear.

I wasn’t quite sure if it was from laughing or crying.

“I would never forget your birthday, silly! Now, enjoy!” I laughed even harder.

“Blake, you do realize you’re miles away. And I can’t eat cake through a computer.”

He shook his head.

“That’s what I had planned. I enjoy chocolate cake, so more for me I guess.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I love you big brother, never forget that.” I giggled.

“I love you more, even if you stole Mom and Dad from me.

Have a happy birthday! The big eighteen! I have to go, bye.” He 43

stood up from the computer quickly.

He never seemed to remember to end the call so I cut the video and shut down my computer. Flopping down on my bed, I couldn’t quit smiling. He hadn’t forgotten. In fact, he made this day one I’ll never forget. It wasn’t much, but it was typical of him.

Something quirky that would make me laugh and smile.

Relief washed over me and I realized no matter the space between us, I had one thing many people didn’t-- the best older brother ever.

44 Inscape 2014

Elizabeth Stapleton Award for Art Education The Lone Fisherman Jessica Travlos 45

46 Inscape 2014

My Universe

Claire Earickson

Lower Yellowstone Falls

Kelly Jo Davis 47

Rocky Stream 48 Inscape 2014

Emily Schultz

A Somber Day in Fall

DaSean Stokes 49

Country Life 50 Inscape 2014

Kelsey Forqueran

Busy Bee

Desiray Crowe-Boicourt 51

52 Inscape 2014

Bare

Kelsey Forqueran

53

Pros and Cons

Jane Gonzalez-M eyer

54 Inscape 2014

Orange Crisp

James Graham

55

Litho

Parker Johnson

56 Inscape 2014

Think It's Thirsty

Jeffery Scott Painter

57

When Man and Nature Merge

Alexia Maschmeier

58 Inscape 2014

Trusting the Shepherd

Jessica Travlos

59

Sunshine in Tuscany

Alexia Maschmeier

Sunny Waterfall 60 Inscape 2014

Emily Schultz

Stitches

Claire Earickson 61

62 Inscape 2014

Forgotten Faith

Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Kerlinda Blowing Kisses

Amanda Cauley 63

64 Inscape 2014

Still Afloat

James Graham

Thomas F . Dillingham Award for Nonfiction Prose Stuck Kate Kellner Stuck, v: to remain attached by adhesion; to hold, cleave or cling; to remain persistently or permanently; to remain firm, as in resolution, opinion, statement or attachment; a stoppage or a standstill; something causing delay or difficulty

Have you ever been stuck? Looking at all of the different definitions, I’m sure you have been. I’m sure everybody in the entire world has been. I myself have been stuck in every sense of the word possible. For instance, just a few days ago I was stuck in a doggy door. Many times in my life I have been stuck on a cute boy. My sophomore year of high school I woke up to realize that I was stuck in my podunk piddly diddly hometown and needed to do something. Senior year I determined that I was stuck in a very bad mental state and needed to vacate that. And just a few months ago, the first semester of my senior year of college, I realized I was about to be stuck in this endearing but piddly diddly town.

It’s easy to get stuck. A person feels the need to cling to what they know because, let’s face it, leaving is scary as hell.

Facing the unknown all by yourself is one of the loneliest and most daunting tasks a person can undertake. So it’s natural to keep doing what you have always done because it’s safe. It may not be the most thrilling life, but it’s safe.

Except me. Being stuck is one of the most terrifying things I could ever imagine. I’m not the most outgoing person, really.

I don’t go out of my way to be different or unique. I’m not, by any means, a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. I’ve worked in the same movie theater since I was sixteen, I’ve lived in the same house since I was five and I’ve had the same best friend since I was born. I’m a creature of habit.

Ever since I was young though, I’ve had big dreams. And the landscapes of those dreams are not fields of Strafford farm cows. The reason I came to CMU, plain and simple, was because it was different. I didn’t know one single person, unless you count my tour guide, Eldar. Fayette was tiny enough to seem like home, 65

but different enough that I wouldn’t feel like I was clinging to my own gravel roads.

I was able to reinvent myself here in Fayette. I became someone new. I gained confidence and became very daring. Well… daring enough! I did things I would have never dreamed of doing in Strafford. And that was a fantastic experience. To know that I was different than ninety percent of my high school classmates, to know that I was making something of myself, I mean, wow. I never wanted to stay in Strafford. I wanted to leave and get out and I did.

But as the experts say, history repeats itself. And even though I have been so happy and content in Fayette, I know that I can’t stay. I was going to. Don’t get me wrong, I found a boy and fell in love and we were going to stay put in his piddly diddly town. But I am a wandering spirit. I’m a dreamer. I crave travelling. To me, the idea of venturing into a town where no one knows my name, yeah it’s terrifying but exhilarating at the same time.

I’ve never met anyone who desires to reinvent themselves as much as I do. The boy I love, he most definitely doesn’t get it.

People are content with who they are. But I’m not. I don’t want to be placid. I want to be crazy. I want to change and mold and create myself into an entirely new human being just because I can. Maybe it’s the theater kid in me. I’m always undertaking new roles, becoming a new person for a few hours underneath those stage lights. The opportunity to do so in real life is rare. Human beings are always changing. That’s the beauty of growing up. You’re not the same person you were three days ago. Why not capitalize on that and go somewhere else, be someone else? You can be someone else and still be who you truly are. I think people forget that.

Don’t let yourself get stuck. Unless it’s in a doggy door or an elevator or a traffic jam. Don’t you dare get stuck somewhere you don’t want to be. Don’t settle for someone you don’t want to be with. And please, for the love of God, don’t get stuck in some pathetic mindset. Don’t get stuck in your parent’s political views or morals. Make your own. Be your own. Ralph Waldo Emerson said “We must learn to be our own before we can be another’s.”

Remember that.

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We are in college. We aren’t supposed to know who we are yet. That’s why these are called our ‘selfish years.’ We have a right to be restless. We deserve to have an ache in our bones to travel to foreign countries, breathe in salt air and be utterly confused by different languages. And I am one hundred percent certain that I am going to get lost, both physically and metaphorically. I’m going to lose all my money in a Pakistani flea market. Or accidentally wind up in a Peruvian jail. My parents will probably have to wire me money while I’m in Moscow or Florence or Rio de Janeiro or maybe even Kansas City, MO. Like I said, I am a creature of habit and I habitually make mistakes. But as long as I am making mistakes I know I am not stuck.

I want a family. I want to settle down in a podunk town, maybe even this podunk town with that boy that I am completely in love with. I want my kids to grow up knowing the beauty of small-town life. But not yet. I am twenty-one. I am about to graduate. I want to explore everything I possibly can. I want to be everyone I can possibly be. Am I terrified? One hundred percent.

But the thing about life is, no one makes it out alive. So be daring and daunting. Be crazy and wild. Be whoever the hell you want to be and don’t give a damn what people say. Life is too short to spend it worrying about what people think. Life is too short to spend it worrying at all, actually.

I hope I run into you, whoever you are. And I hope you have also blown all your money in a somewhat illegal gambling establishment in Nicaragua (and I mean that in the best way). And I hope that we can bunker down in a hostel together, laughing at our crazy mistakes, reminiscing on the days we played it safe. Then, when the time comes for us to get stuck in some lovely, piddly diddly town, we can tell our children about all those times we blew around like tumbleweeds in the wind.

67

A Fishing Baptism Jessica Travlos

Left arm forward for balance, Ben arched the pole behind his back, keeping a mindful eye on the hook. Then with a snap of the wrist he released it, sending the worm and line sailing through the air landing with a quiet plop as it parted the surface of the mossy water.

It was a hot day in July, Fourth of July actually, and most of our family was in town to celebrate. Our cousin Kyle was with us at Uncle Elmer’s pond, and together the three of us caught nearly twenty crappie in just an hour. With how good the fishing was that day, it was no wonder we lost track of time.

“Ahhh!” Ben exclaimed, as the tip of his rod bent toward the water. Reeling with caution and bracing his weight on the bank, my brother brought in another one.

Being the annoying older sister that I am, I forced him to stand still and display his catch for me as I took his photo. Once I confirmed I had the shot I wanted Ben carefully unlaced the hook from its freshly pierced lip and tossed it in the bucket of pond water with the rest.

Kyle waved from across the pond to get our attention.

“Hey! Your dad just called. He says Grandma wants us back in thirty minutes for dinner.”

“Thirty minutes?!” I yelled back. This was, of course, impossible. It would take close to an hour just to drive back, not to mention the hike back to the truck. “What did you tell him?”

“I said we’d be there,” Kyle responded as if this was no big deal. Kyle was from North Carolina and did not understand that there were three towns between Uncle Elmer’s farm and Grandma’s house.

After quickly explaining this, the three of us went into a frenzy gathering our gear and making our way back to the truck.

All of us taking turns heaving the ten-gallon buckets of halfliving fish flopping around in the water. With how hot it was, we knew they wouldn’t make it home fresh enough in the bed of the truck without the water, making our load that much heavier.

Finally there, we threw the rods, tackle, and bucket into the bed.

68 Inscape 2014

We all squeezed into the tight quarters of the single cab, Ben in the middle, Kyle smashed against the passenger window and me, elbow to elbow with Ben, driving.

Being the newly licensed driver I was, I peeled out of the driveway and onto the highway. Consuming my head with thoughts of the look on dad’s face when he would see us show up for Grandma’s dinner smelling like fish and just in time for baklava. Making myself anxious about his reaction, I quit paying attention to where I was going.

“You just passed the turnoff!” Ben screamed at me, as if I couldn’t hear him sitting in between Kyle and me.

“Damn it Ben!” I retorted. With a heavy turn of the wheel I pulled that rusty Silverado off to the side and with protest, forced it to accelerate against it’s will in the other direction. “Alright. Now where is it?” I asked.

Kyle shrugged his shoulders as if I was asking him. Ben started pointing, but over the wind rushing through the side windows and out the back cab one, I couldn’t hear him. And sure enough I passed it again.

“Shut that stupid sliding back window!” I growled at Ben. “Fuck you! It’s hot!” Ben yelled back, Kyle was now laughing at the loving brother-sister relationship he was witnessing.

With a spin of the tires I tore off again, frustrated but sure that I would make the turn this time. The bickering between Ben and me continued and sure enough I got distracted.

“Oh my God! Jessica! It’s right there!” Kyle said, now getting involved.

I looked up just before passing it for the third time.

Determined to not repeat the incident, I slammed on the brakes.

Tires locked, squealing at me. The sound of plastic on plastic as everything in the bed slid forwards. A rush of water, splash, and smell of fish, WHAM!!!! The bucket crashed against the cab of the truck, sending a tidal wave of moss, fish and muddy water up and through that back window. There was silence, as Kyle and I stared at Ben, drenched in fish yuck.

I bit my tongue to fight the laughter and then lost it as Kyle pointed at a still live fish flopping around his toes. Ben glared at us, holding his arms spread out as the muddy water dripped off 69

his shirt. It was too late though, Kyle and I were already rolling, laughing and reenacting the scene of the wave engulfing Ben’s head.

A car pulled up behind us and honked, so I gathered myself back together again and turned the truck onto the road I had passed one too many times. Soaking wet and smelling just absolutely delightful, we finally made it to Grandma’s to tell our tale. We made it just in time for the pastries after dinner without a single scowl from Dad for he was too busy joining us in laughing at the fishy state Ben was in.

70 Inscape 2014

It's Complicated Jane Gonzalez-M eyer

My relationship with amusement parks is one that would be labeled “It’s Complicated” on a Facebook status. It could be compared to that of a couple that fight all the time and curse one another under their breaths, but reconcile every night because they somehow enjoy each others company. Sounds absolutely ridiculous and perhaps unhealthy, but that’s the way it is. Two summers ago I went to Six Flags with my boyfriend, Brian, because I was feeling “adventurous” and wanted to do something “exciting.” I’ve never been much of a daredevil, but sometimes I like to pretend that I am. When I woke up the morning of our trip, however, I felt like I was going to meet my maker. I had hoped that by agreeing to go to Six Flags ahead of time, I would give myself time to calm down and relax, but that wasn’t happening. My mind was going a mile a minute and I felt like blood no longer flowed to my hands.

I made sure to have Brian drive, because I needed to give myself a therapy session beforehand. No matter how many times I told myself everything would be fine, my mind wandered to that little kid a few years ago who lost a limb after riding a rollercoaster. Apparently things like that happen to one in a million, but statistics like that only confirm that I could be that one.

I felt I should be saying goodbye to some of my body parts just in case.

When we wandered through the park that day, I felt bad for Brian. He was so pumped to be there and was pointing to rides with the enthusiasm of a hyper little boy, but I was not matching that emotion. I would shrug pathetically and say that maybe we should start with a less “stressful” ride. Less stressful meaning one that doesn’t make me act like a child being dragged into a doctor’s office to get a shot. I eyed a train mine rollercoaster, but he looked at it with indifference, stating that it was fun for little kids. I silently scolded myself for almost suggesting going on a ride that was so lame for a college student.

That was the problem, too. I saw all these six year olds strutting up to these intense rollercoasters, acting like they did it everyday, while I, a twenty-year-old, had the look of a deer before 71

it gets hit by a car. At times Brian was able to convince me to go on rides, but the wait was agony. It was like standing in line for death.

I tried not to let my emotions show because I did not want to look like a wimp to Brian. With as much subtlety as possible, I would slowly sit down in my seat, pull on the overhead straps to make sure they were on tight, and try to remind myself how to breathe.

The rollercoaster would shoot off and as the ride went along, a surprising feeling would surface in me. I was actually enjoying the ride. Whenever I left my seat, the fuss I made beforehand would be forgotten, and I would give myself a little pat on the back for being a big kid like all those six-year-olds.

By mid afternoon, due to Brian’s persistence, I found myself standing in front of the monster of Six Flags. The Mr. Freeze was the most disgusting spectacle I had ever seen. The way it blasted out its victims and then pulled them back was the attitude of a tease. It would draw his prey in with its thrilling appearance, and once he was coiled around them, he would shove them off to fend for themselves, only to tug them back in. To me, it appeared to be the most traumatizing experience to have, because as many people know, a tease can be tormenting because of the emotional scars he leaves behind. The rollercoaster would rattle out and do the loops and spins, and then go straight up in the air, only to go backwards. I heard people screaming while they rode on the thing, and I always felt like it was a cry for help because they realized they were complete morons for subjecting themselves to it. I was the moron that day.

I stood in that line for what felt like an eternity, yet it was not long enough for me. I reflected on my life, like one does before they die, and I realized that I had so much more to live for. I wasn’t prepared to leave this earth, and I sure as hell didn’t want to leave this way. In a nervous flutter I took my seat next to my boyfriend, realizing that there was enough space for Death to sit in between us. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind coming along for the ride to see me have a meltdown.

I glanced at Brian before we were propelled out, and I wanted to say so much, but realized my time was up. No amount of forewarning about my pansy ways could prepare him for the look of complete terror in my eyes. He tried to console me, but I still 72 Inscape 2014

wiggled around in my seat like a child who knows they are in deep trouble. Next thing I knew, we were shot out like a bullet from a gun. I went completely limp and squeezed my eyes shut, but I soon opened them and watched as the world around zoomed by. I focused my energy on his hand in mine, and when we were straight up in the air I was ready to come flying straight back down. This tease wasn’t that kind though. It pushed itself back a little farther, like a runner who leans back before making a break for it. I allowed a few choice words to escape my lips, and then we were off again. We got back to the station as quickly as we went off, and I swayed my way out of the exit like a drunkard, giggling as Brian glanced at me with concern. I felt like the sun shined a little brighter after that experience, and the distant sound of children’s laughter made me smile. Life was so much sweeter after a near death experience and adrenaline rush.

As we left the park that day, I felt like I promoted myself to wearing big girl pants, at least for a little while. Brian still gives me grief about that day, but I just smile and laugh it off. Rollercoasters and I have a complicated relationship: I’m practically being dragged into it against my better judgment, but once I start experiencing it, I actually have a good time. At least I am trying to work it out; I wouldn’t be subjecting myself to these mini panic attacks if I wasn’t. Even though the Mr. Freeze ride was an exhilarating experience, I still need time off to think things over and recover from the excitement. It’s only been two years after all.

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Zombies Kristopher Kuoppamaki CAST Mother: Mother of three children who has a busy schedule.

Sister: Too cool to have little brothers, or so she thinks. Uses the boys every chance she can to get out of trouble. She is thirteen and has an attitude towards those her age or younger.

Jimmie: Nine-year-old who is the most honest out of the children, but still gets into to trouble with his siblings from time to time. Has close relationship with Thomas.

Thomas: Eight-year-old who loves to follow Jimmie and they have a very close relationship. Thomas looks up to Jimmie even though he is not much older.

Setting: The living room of a house. Plenty of furniture and a table, an entertainment center with a game system. Mid day timing, two children sit at the entertainment center playing video games. Mom enters and grabs keys from the living room table.

Mother: Alright, I’m about to go see Nanny. I left your sister’s cell phone on the counter. She’s only next door, so call her if you two need anything okay.

Jimmie: Slow, eyes still glued to the TV. Okay Mom. Mother: Did you hear me?

Thomas: Glancing quickly back then back at the TV screen. Yes Mom. Mother: Okay, love you guys, be good while I’m gone, and remember Sis is next door, so call her if you need anything.

Jimmie and Thomas: Simultaneously drawn out, as if annoyed.

Okay Mom. Mother walks out the front door. You can hear the latch as she locks it from the outside. The sound of the car door opening and closing can be heard from the living room. The two boys sitting criss-crossed throw their controllers, stand up, run and jump on the couch, peeping out the window. The engine starts and the sound of the car fades down the street.

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Jimmie: Jumping from the couch to the floor. Booyah!

Thomas: Chick Chicka Yeah!

Jimmie: I got the guns!

Thomas: I got the blankets!

Jimmie exits the stage, Thomas goes to a closet within the living room and pulls out heaps of covers from the shelves and drags all out on the floor. Jimmie returns with two nerf guns.

Jimmie: Okay, come on. We got to get the chairs.

Thomas: How about you get the chairs? I’ll push the couch.

Jimmie: Thinking for a second, then replying enthusiastically. Eh, okay!

Jimmie throws the nerf guns on the couch and Thomas drops all the blankets in hand. Jimmie sprints off stage once again, and Thomas drops to his knees pushing the couch away from the living room table. Jimmie returns shortly dragging two table chairs into the living room. Standing the chairs upright, they both look at each other and pause.

Thomas: Yelling as if real zombies were coming. Zombies!

Jimmie: Hurry, hurry! I can hear them coming!

Thomas: Jumping to his feet grabbing for the blankets. Grab the fort walls!

Jimmie: Yeah, we need to hurry. They’re almost here.

Thomas: Talking with concern. Okay, grab that side. Pull it over; you know they always come from that side.

Jimmie: They both scramble to get the blankets spread from chair to chair for a fortress. Hurry Thomas, they just kicked the back door in.

The sound of the back door actually sounds, startling the boys. It’s only their sister though who was over at the neighbors.

Thomas: Get the guns, they really are here!

Jimmie: Get in, get in, I’ll go get them.

Thomas: No, I will go with you!

They retrieve the guns off the couch and sprint quickly inside of the fortress of blankets, waiting for their sister or to their belief, the zombie. She continues to walk down the hall, but she is wearing big glasses and has enough sunscreen on to give a white color. When she 75

enters and sees the mess, she instantly yells their names. She also petrifies the boys with her crazy look after they peer out of the fort to shoot her.

Sister: Loud and drawn out with frustration. Jim-mie, Thom-as!

Jimmie: It really wants us Thomas, it knows our names.

Thomas: We didn’t even get to put extra strength on that side.

Jimmie: Well, we have to go shoot it, or it’ll bust through anyway.

Thomas: Alright, let’s do this.

They both peek out.

Jimmie and Thomas: Simultaneously. Aahhhhh!

Sister: What in the frig are you two doing?

Another yell gives familiarity to the voice and the boys learn it is their sister, after falling to the floor in fear.

Sister: Not concerned with the fortress. Get out here and tell me where you put the cereal, I’m hungry.

Jimmie: We were just about to clean it up, please, so don’t get mad, or tell Mom. We’ll put it up, promise!

Thomas: Trying to really get them out of trouble. Yeah we’ll put it up. It won’t take long; we didn’t put extra strength out yet.

Sister: Listen I don’t care about the fort turds; I’m only going to get a bowl of cereal. I’m leaving right after, if Mom comes I won’t be here, so it’ll be all on you two.

Jimmie: Ok, we’ll get you some cereal then we can put it up, just please don’t tell mom.

Thomas: Yea, please don’t tell mom because she’ll take us to Nanny’s house.

Jimmie: Talking like it would be the end of the world. We can’t even play zombies at Nanny’s house.

Sister: I. Don’t. Care. I just want some cereal. Where did you put it you turds? I’m about to leave, hence I’m in a hurry. I don’t care about your stupid fort.

Jimmie: Oh, okay then. Here I’ll make it. Just sit at the table.

Sister: Good, Lizzy is texting anyway. Hurry while you’re at it, I can just feel my sunscreen wearing off.

Thomas: I’m going to go get the extra strength then Jimmie, while 76 Inscape 2014

you make that cereal.

Jimmie: Yelling from the kitchen offstage. Get the pillows from Mom’s room too.

Thomas: Okay! Yelling loudly from the opposite end of the stage.

Jimmie finishes the bowl of cereal and places it with his sister lost and mummified in her phone, now wandering onto some social media site. She sees the bowl and takes one bite before scrutinizing her phone once again.

Jimmie: Well if you don’t care now, we’re going to strengthen the fort and more protection for our next round. Since you won’t be here very long.

Thomas now back in the living room.

Thomas: Ok, here is all the extra strength we can use to build our fort walls stronger.

Jimmie: Yes, we will need those. I don’t know if I was even quite ready for that last round. Sis kind of scared me. What about you?

Thomas: Lying completely. I mean, I wasn’t scared, I just thought you were trying to hug me when we seen Sis, so I couldn’t just leave you hanging. I was ready of course, but a restart is always good.

Jimmie: Well, I’ll always have your back, so no matter what, we’re going down together if we do.

Thomas: Good, that’s the way I feel too. Now let’s get these walls built so no zombies can get in. Back door seems to be the primary entrance for all zombies, so maybe we should put extra extra strength there?

Jimmie: Sounds good, we’ll take some of these pillow barriers from the front door side and place them on the back door side since that’s where most of them come from.

Thomas: Definitely, there’s no way they’re getting through now.

The amount of pillows on the side facing the back door is huge, while the entrance to the fort where the front door is has only one pillow protecting from zombies entering.

Jimmie: Okay, where are the guns?

Thomas: Oh, they must be outside of the fort when we fell through hugging.

Jimmie: Yeah.. Anyway, here I will go get them, Stay here. Get our 77

potions and bandages ready for battle.

Thomas: Alright, just hurry. I don’t want any surprise zombies busting in and getting you while I’m not close enough to help.

Sister: Saying but not looking away from her phone. You two will most likely never have girlfriends. Ever.

Jimmie: Huh? Sister: Ever...

Thomas: Those are worse than zombies!

Jimmie: A girlfriend?! Yeah, that’s a no way José!

Sister: Well good, because you two will never have a chance.

Thomas: Okay, I have all the potions ready. The survival kit is right here; I packed it and refilled everything.

Jimmie: Good, soon as I get these guns reloaded, I think we’ll be fine. I can start to hear them again.

Thomas: They’re definitely close; we better start loading them faster.

They are rapidly trying to fill their nerf guns with the foam bullets; sister downloads a video and begins to watch it at the table, lost in whatever she has discovered.

Jimmie: This is bad, this is real bad.

Thomas: What happened?

Jimmie: Don’t tell me you don’t know.

Thomas: Becoming scared. No, no, I don’t know. What is it?

Jimmie: Zombies hate noise. They will eat anyone that has noise around them, or even close to it. You better get ready; this is going to be the apocalypse.

Thomas: I love you Jimmie, I’m going to try my best.

Jimmie: Me too Thomas. Just guard with your life. We can make it.

Thomas: No matter what, I got your back.

Jimmie: Same.

Sister: Are you two making out in there? You’re kind of starting to freak me out.

Thomas: Turn your noise off before you kill us all!

Jimmie: Oh, no! I hear them coming Thomas. They’re in the hall way!

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Thomas: See what you’ve done? How many?

Jimmie: Looks like a five thousand.

Thomas: Think our walls can hold? I knew we should have got her to turn that off.

In all the music, yelling and five thousand zombies marching towards the boys fortress through the hall way, they all fail to hear mom’s car pull into the driveway and stop. The door opens and closes but they don’t hear it due to all the noise they are causing inside.

Jimmie: They’ll be fine, as long as they don’t come from the front door side. We have barely any barriers and extra strength there.

Thomas: Alright, I’m about to start blasting them. Are you ready?

Jimmie: We got this no matter what; we got each other’s backs.

Forever.

Thomas: Yea, let’s do this!

Sister: I’m about to leave, so good luck when Mom gets here. She’s going to kill you turds. So have fun with that. I’ll be at Lizzy’s next door, care free. She’ll never know I seen you two, and make you clean the mess up yourselves.

The two boys move to the back of the fort near the front door to scream at their sister, right as they reach that part of the fort their mother walks in, once again startling them as if an unexpected zombie with her big glasses and huge sun hat. She has come back because of a forgotten item she needed for nanny.

Jimmie and Thomas: Simultaneously, squeezing each other and falling through the fort and pillow to the ground, unloading all their nerf bullets. Ahhh, they came from the front door!

Mother: You three! What did I say? I haven’t even been gone five minutes and look what you all have gotten in to.

All three children simultaneously.

Jimmie: Sis said we could!

Thomas: It was Jimmie’s idea!

Sister: I just got here, I had no clue Mom! END

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Young Writer’s Day CMU English Department

On Thursday March 20, 2014 Central Methodist University’s English Department hosted the Inaugural Young Writer’s Day. Thirty-five students taking dual-credit English courses from Fayette and Boonville high schools were invited to participate in a day of creative writing. Students were placed into three groups and each group participated in three 50-minute sessions:

Graphic Novels and Comics; Flash Fiction; and Poetry.

Students were introduced to material from each genre, then the rest of the time was theirs to create a work in that genre. The three best works from each genre were awarded certificates and books. In addition, the first place winners are featured in Inscape and second place winners in Flash Fiction and Poetry were published in CMU’s student newspaper, The Collegian.

Sigma Tau Delta was instrumental in the success of the first Young Writer’s Day. They helped with every aspect of the event, including judging the poetry contest. Sigma Tau Delta strives to “provide, through its local chapters, cultural stimulation on college campuses and promote interest in literature and the English language in surrounding communities;” as well as to “foster all aspects of the discipline of English, including literature, language, and writing.”

The CMU chapter of Sigma Tau Delta succeeded with Young Writer’s Day.

The English department and Sigma Tau Delta are proud to present the first place winners and their work.

Poetry: first place, Noah Heaton (Boonville); second place, Taylor Tutin (Boonville); third place, Kyreon Lee (Fayette); Flash fiction: first place, Stevie Hart (Boonville); second place, Tayler Head (Fayette); and third place, Dylan Snapp (Boonville); Comics: first place, Kenzie Smentkowski (Fayette); second place, Brandi Mueller (Fayette); and third place, Kaitlynn Gebhard (Boonville).

Kavita S. Hatwalkar, Ph.D.

Assistant Professor of English Central Methodist University 80 Inscape 2014

First Place Poetry Alone Noah Heaton Boonville High School I have no pity I feel no sorrow I live for today and move forward tomorrow I’m real small yet I feel real mighty But when people look at me they see a nobody My destination, unknown. My path is not charted.

Nothings been clear since the night I departed.

There’s no turning back, so I just sail on through.

Losing myself, getting further from you.

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First Place Comic Kenzie Smentkowski Fayette High School 82 Inscape 2014

First Place Flash Fiction Controversy Creates Cash Stevie Hart Boonville High School

Kyle Patrick Dougherty was up against an A-felony charge.

His offense was so deplorable that no defense attorney in Arizona wanted to take his case for any amount of money.

Last December, Mr. Dougherty was detained from his home, in front of his family, on Christmas morning.

There were questions of whether or not Mr. Dougherty was even guilty of the alleged crime. However, this was of no concern to the prosecuting attorney, his job wasn’t right or wrong; his job was getting convictions.

On the day of his court-date, Mr. Dougherty arrived early, in his finest dress clothes. He was nervous, beyond compare. In his mind, he knew he was guilty, but was this really something to arrest someone over? This is an A-felony? He took a seat, next to his court-appointed lawyer, awaiting trial. After the “discovery” was presented, and the irrelevant two instances of being late for work in 2006 were brought up, the judge had reached his verdict.

“Mr. Dougherty,” the judge spoke. “You are found guilty and sentenced to thirty-five years in a federal prison.” He continued, “Let Mr. Dougherty be an example for any felons that decide to drink out of a carton. That is disgusting, there are other people that drink that orange juice.”

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Notes from the Contributors Heather Bernat - She is from Montgomery City, MO and is currently a sophomore at Central Methodist University. After graduation she plans to go into social work and work in the foster care system.

Bailey Brown - Bailey is a junior English Education major who is also a member of Sigma Tau Delta.

Desiray Crowe-Boicourt - My name is Desiray Crowe-Boicourt; I’m a sophomore from Bunceton. I am a Biology major.

Amanda Cauley - This collection of photography is just a few of the many photos I shot while living in Port-au-Prince, Haiti for three months. Living Water Haiti Ministries is an orphanage that provides sponsorship, education, and a home for children to have a future. I lived and worked there as an Activities Coordinator as well as teaching them to read and write.

Kelly Jo Davis - My name is Kelly Jo Davis. I am nineteen and I am originally from Slater, Missouri. I major in English Education and minor in Sociology at Central Methodist University. I work in Admissions at CMU as a telecounselor and a student ambassador.

I am a member of both Alpha Phi Omega and Sigma Tau Delta.

I love to write, sing, take pictures, ride motorcycles, and spend time with my friends and family. Once I graduate college I plan to become an English teacher, hopefully at my alma mater and eventually I plan to get my Master’s in Sociology and Education.

Claire Earickson - My name is Claire Earickson and I am a junior here at CMU. I am going to school for Psychology in hopes to one day be a Social Worker or Counselor. In my free time, I love to draw and paint.

Alexis Eckhoff - I am nineteen years old and I am a junior at CMU. I am originally from Houstonia, MO, located an hour away from Fayette. I work in the admissions office. This is my first year working as a telecounselor.

Zachariah Feurt - On top of my studies here at CMU I also run track and cross country. I have always enjoyed writing and reading.

I thought about turning in some of my poems last year, but never got around to it. This year however, I thought I should go ahead. I hope someone will enjoy them.

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Kelsey Forqueran - Kelsey is a junior Pre-Law student whose goal is to be the real life Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. She loves to take pictures, play guitar, and she hopes to one day be the president of the United States.

Danielle Franklin - I am a freshman in college, studying English.

After college, I hope to become a writer and work for a publishing agency. Here at CMU, I am a part of Sigma Tau Delta and the Conservatory Singers. I enjoy Disney, taking pictures, spending time with my crazy family and awesome friends, and reading! Oh, and my favorite color is sparkly! :) Mariah Furman - She is senior English Education major who is also a member of Sigma Tau Delta.

Samantha Gerhardt - I have been married for fourteen years to a wonderful supportive husband Jerry Gerhardt who has been a truck driver for the past 30+ years. We have gone to a lot of exciting places together and that is priceless to me, having someone whom makes me feel complete and happy. I enjoy being around my three grandsons, five-year-old Cody, seven-year-old Toby, and two-year-old Ivan. They remind me to take things slow and enjoy what I have. Writing is my way of calming down from a bad day or getting my thoughts in order. At times it is a way to help deal with other issues such as the loss of my parents or feelings of restlessness.

Jane Gonzalez-Meyer - I like watching movies and eating breakfast because of biscuits and gravy and the smell of bacon.

Delicious!

James Graham - My name is James Graham and I’m majoring in Sports Management while on the soccer team here at CMU. Stevie Hart - Stevie participated in Young Writer’s Day and attends Boonville High School.

Noah Heaton - Noah participated in Young Writer’s Day and attends Boonville High School.

Kamryn Johnson - I am an outdoor enthusiast, who has eleven lifeguarding certifications and two wildlife ones. I have my certification for the catch and release of venomous and nonvenomous snakes of Missouri! I play baseball here at CMU, and I enjoy writing poetry to get my mind off things!

Parker Johnson - Parker is a first year student at Central 85

Methodist University. He’s involved in choir, theatre, and hosts a weekly radio show. He is an active member of Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia and Chi Delta, and is a pledging member of Alpha Phi Omega. Sometimes he sleeps.

Kate Kellner - I am a senior who will be graduating in May (ah so scary!) I plan to either go to graduate school for English at WIU or get a job at some publishing company! I haven’t really decided yet and plan to keep living life in a whimsical fashion!

Kristopher Kuoppamaki - Kristopher is from Marionville, MO, and he is a junior Business major involved in track and field. He also enjoys hanging with friends.

Alexia Maschmeier - My name is Alexia Maschmeier. I am a Biology major and a Psychology and Chemistry double minor in the Pre-Vet program. As a military child, I have lived all over the country and even overseas. When I was overseas, I had the blessing to see history in person, and I took every opportunity to capture it in photos. I am active in Sigma Alpha Iota, Alpha Phi Omega, and the music program here at CMU. Maggie Moore - Maggie Moore is a sophomore Communications major from Columbia. She is currently a member of Alpha Gamma Psi and active in the CMU’s Navigators.

Kyle Nolawski - I am twenty years old, and am from Versailles, MO. I play golf for Central Methodist University, and this is my first submission to Inscape.

Jeffery Scott Painter - My name is Jeffery; I prefer my middle name Scott. I’ve moved around most of my life to places such as Florida, Georgia, Virginia, and Puerto Rico because my father was in the Navy. Despite making and losing many connections it was nice being able to see new places. Growing up I spent most of my time playing soccer and later found myself in tennis for three years in high school. Before coming to CMU I spent two years at Linn State Technical College pursuing my career in Computer Science.

Through them I got an internship with the tech department for the R1 School District which provided many hands on learning opportunities. As for on my own time I’m an avid gamer, and enjoy going out to take pictures of landscapes or simply nature related things in general.

Shakirah Salandy - I’m Shakirah Salandy, a junior at CMU and I am a member of the varsity women’s soccer team. I’m 86 Inscape 2014

from Winston-Salem, NC, and spend most of my time with my teammates, whom have all made CMU a great fit for me. I’m majoring in Mass Communications but plan to attend physical therapy school on the west coast.

Emily Schultz - My name is Emily Schultz. I am a Junior Elementary Education major.

Kenzie Smentkowoski - Kenzie participated in Young Writer’s Day and attends Fayette High School.

DaSean Stokes - My name is DaSean Stokes and I am a frreshman on campus. I am a Vocal Music Performance major. I love to sing and whenever I get a chance I like to draw something that makes me and other people happy. Plus, I love macaroni and cheese.

Jessica Travlos - I love to set goals for myself higher than what may seem imaginable. Photography and writing seem to be the best way for me to share my experiences of this wonderful journey with the world.

Courtney Warford - I am a sophomore, and I am majoring in English Education and minoring in Coaching. I’m from Pattonsburg in northwest Missouri. I am currently a member of Alpha Phi Omega and Sigma Tau Delta. I am also a Resident Assistant in Holt Hall.

Roger Weaver - I feel like these sum up a lot of what I think: “The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.” - George Carlin; “Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.” - Ray Bradbury.

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Congratulations to the 2014 Inscape Arts Winners!

Gordon Hadfield Award for Poetry Where I am From Danielle Franklin Kilgore Trout Award for Fiction Pigment of the Imagination Maggie Moore Thomas F. Dillingham Award for Nonfiction Prose Stuck Kate Kellner Byrd Cooper Kirby Award (Front Cover) Gerlanda is Always the First One in Front of the Camera!

Amanda Cauley Elizabeth Stapleton Award in Art Education The Lone Fisherman Jessica Travlos Thanks to the English faculty and members of Sigma Tau Delta for their help with the judging of Inscape awards.

88 Inscape 2014