Inscape 2017

INSCAPE

Celebrating the Arts at Central Methodist University

Inscape

©2017 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 Mu Lambda Chapter, provides. They have a distinguished record of placing students in graduate and professional study as well as in education and other professional fields. The Mu Lambda Chapter of Sigma Tau Delta is an opportunity for students to share their love of English with one another while participating in campus activities, conferences, and publishing Inscape. If you would like more information about Sigma Tau Delta, please contact:

Dr. Travis Johnson

Assistant Professor of English 411 Central Methodist Square Fayette, Missouri 65248-1192 tjohnson@centralmethodist.edu 660-248-6308

Or visit www.centralmethodist.edu/academics/english for more information about the Department of English.

The Inscape staff and 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 an questions or are interested in submitting for the next issue, which will be released in the spring of 2018.

inscape

Central Methodist University’s Magazine of the Arts. A Project of CMU’s Mu Lambda Chapter of Sigma Tau Delta.

Issue 42/2017

Editors

Danielle Mae Franklin

Contributing Editors

Miranda Dahman

Mackenzie Hustead

Brittany Lawson

Lyndsey Phillips

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

First Place: I Forgot to Turn Off the Faucet by Catherine Barnard (10)

Second Place: How I’ve Grown by Addison McGuire (11)

Third Place: Skin Deep by Lachai Allen (13)

One Cream, One Sugar by Brittany Lawson (14)

A Monster in the Dark by Tad Armentrout (15)

Boy Blue by Brittany Lawson (16)

A Night’s Flight by Denise Weigand (17)

Frenchtoast-Dreams by Liam Tobeler (18)

Block by Lyndsey Phillips (19)

Ode to Chick-Fil-A by Madilynn Lyons (20)

Thin Blue Lines by Kiven Steitz (21)

Déjà vu by Lachai Allen (22)

Unattainable Dreams by Maggie Gebhardt (24)

When I See by Clarice Fels (26)

Reflection of a Storm by Catherine Barnard (27)

Earth Hum Song by Brittany Lawson (28)

Repeat by Kiven Steitz (30)

Muted Colors by Lyndsey Phillips (32)

Naps 4 Dayz by Liam Tobeler (34)

Those Colors by Kole Hinton (35)

Letting Go by Rebecca Garrett (36)

Strength of Heart by Tad Armentrout (38)

When I Heard by Denise Weigand (39)

Mountain Song by Brittany Lawson (40)

First Place: Ambition by Dylan Lewis (42)

Second Place: The Perfect Drive by Kiven Steitz (49)

Third Place: Silence, Lights, Wagers by Liam Tobeler (52)

The Room by Denise Weigand (55)

After the Light by Tad Armentrout (57)

Photography, Art, and Drawing...................................................................................................59

First Place: Expressive Ballerina by Catie Dovin (59)

Second Place: Chicago’s Alley by Ronan O’Loughlin (60)

Third Place: Losing My Marbles by Natalie Van Horn (61)

God Ray Watching by Austin Gardner (62)

Winter’s Flower by Michaela Pomajzl (63)

Sunset Sea Turtle by Taylor Ellebracht (64)

On The Steps of Linn Memorial (65)

Darkness Never Falls On Us by Ashley Brewer (66)

A Bird’s-eye View by Maggie Gebhardt (67)

Under the Rainbow by Shelby Dodson (68)

Homeless Man by Mikaela Lewis (69)

Endangered by Catie Dovin (70)

Misty by Taylor Ellebracht (61)

Light by Abby Addleman (72)

Dew by Charli Wood (73)

Synergy by Lachai Allen (74)

Road to Democracy by Lyndsey Phillips (75)

Nature’s Stars by Shelby Dodson (76)

Stretching Beauty by Maggie Gebhardt (77)

A Step Back in Time by Taylor Ellebracht (78)

The Rainbow is Also Falling at Niagara Falls by Violeta Sevillano Pires (79)

8B AE AC 01 by Parker Johnson (80)

The Brooke by Denise Weigand (81)

Glass Half Empty by Natalie Van Horn (82)

Window to the Soul by Taylor Ellebracht (83)

Starlight by Jessica Maine Travlos (84)

Reflection by Catie Dovin (85)

Fog by Charli Wood (86)

Old Time Americana by Cassandra Geisendorfer (87)

Life by Denise Weigand (88)

On the Road by Lyndsey Phillips (89)

Humming Away by Maggie Gebhardt (90)

The Bean by Ronan O’Loughlin (91)

Fascination by Taylor Ellebracht (92)

All in Good Time by Denise Weigand (93)

Giraffa Camelopardalis by Taylor Ellebracht (94)

Cheetah Cub by Catie Dovin (95)

A Romance in the Snow by Natalie Van Horn (96)

Masquerade by Abby Addleman (97)

The Grand Fall by Denise Weigand (98)

I’m So High by Ronan O’Loughlin (99)

Words Hurt by Lyndsey Phillips (100)

A Walk Through CMU by Michaela Pomajzl (101)

Stress Be Gone by Maggie Gebhardt (102)

Beer is Good by Ronan O’Loughlin (103)

Obi’s Curiosity by Taylor Ellebracht (104)

Floating by Abby Addleman (105)

Greetings from Chicago by Violeta Sevillano Pires (106)

Joining Friends by Maggie Gebhardt (107)

E0 0E B3 C5 by Parker Johnson (108)

Capture by Taylor Ellebracht (109)

Siblings by Abby Addleman (110)

Second Chance by Lyndsey Phillips (111)

Bodine’s Tractor by Michaela Pomajzl (112)

Wild Chicago by Violeta Sevillano Pires (113)

Ten-Minute Plays........................................................................................................................114

First Place: We Never Expected This by Clarice Fels (114)

Second Place: Choices by Kole Hinton (117)

Third Place: Essence by Gregory J. Owen (121)

Heavenly Cheeseburger by Gregory J. Owen (125)

Young Writer’s Day....................................................................................................................129

Notes on Young Writer’s Day (129)

The Night by Erin Voellinger (130)

Untitled by Haley Sage (131)

Untitled Kayden Hoover (132)

Fiction by Lauren Rector (133)

Tuesday’s Suit by Paige Newton (134)

Emotional Star by Natalie Bishop (136)

Note from the Editors

The editors of the 2017 edition of Inscape would like to thank everyone that made this publication possible. Sigma Tau Delta Mu Lambda Chapter and its advisor, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Hatwalkar, the faculty advisor and all the contributors - you all have helped make this edition all that it could possibly be. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to tell us, ‘You can do this, you’re awesome’. Contributors, thank you for all of your pieces that made this issue happen!

Perspective and adventure are two key elements in this year’s issue. Whether you take the time to look at life from a bird’s-eye view or you’re simply gazing at the stars, it is all about perspective. You can find yourself gazing into the eyes of the soul.

So, come. Take the journey that we have spent the year making. A journey full of excitement and different points of view. You may find yourself in a sticky situation, like being trapped in a limo, or you may be living your dream life. Whether it is the American Dream or your ordinary day dream, we call you to come and experience life with us.

Enjoy.

Danielle Mae Franklin

Miranda Dahman

Mackenzie Hustead

Brittany Lawson

Lyndsey Phillips

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.

First Place Poetry

I Forgot to Turn Off the Faucet by Catherine Barnard

I awoke

And realized my bedroom

Resembled a walled square of ocean

My bed drifted, partially submerged, Amongst a seaweed of paper That used to be books. The orange and black stuffed body of Nemo swam

Beneath me in tight Circles. I looked outside. Stray soda cans and plastic Bags floated Against the perimeter of houses Like shells abandoned Along the shore. I turned on the news: They said it was Global Warming. Florida was gone. California too.

Still,

At least I fixed the drought.

Second Place Poetry

How I’ve Grown by Addison McGuire

I was born a sunlight baby, peach fuzz grown

A brown blanket all over my soft skull

Not yet a real person—a seed, not yet a tree, Beginning to take root in the world where I slept

In our car, drumming with the beat of the rain

Driven carefully around every bump by my mother

When I first drove, my passenger was my mother

And there I saw myself, older, wiser, grown

Outside the window fell a blur of rain.

I was aware of the fragile ribs, hands, skull

As she reclined and trusted me while she slept I felt too big, my body a planter and my mind a tree.

The planter cracks and downward grows the tree

Whose spreading branches push away my mother

Leaves shake, fearful of things I saw while I slept I saw me: using soap to remove my skin, grown I saw me: washing the pink from inside my skull I saw me: crawling under wires, in the rain

A little older, I sat and I watched the rain

It left behind only me, sturdy; the roots of the tree

Dug deep into new land--masculinity, and my skull

Held moments: dinners, movies, talks with my mother I watched her head, and grey hairs she had grown I laid on the couch in her office and slept

For the first time, I saw myself older while I slept

Leaning on a railing, holding hands, watching the rain

I dreamt myself bigger; broad shouldered, I’d have grown

Tall and expansive, like the oak tree

That grew outside the house of my father and mother I woke, and I almost felt the ceiling on my skull

I didn’t look while the clippers pulled along my skull

And the sharp hair prickled my neck while I slept I still sat and painted my nails with my mother

To feel less like a lightning rod in the rain.

My yellow-tipped fingers were like branches of a tree They ran over my scalp, and I felt nearly grown.

Rebaptism—my skull washed clean by the rain

Homecoming—I sleep in the house by the oak tree

Recollection—a small girl before I was grown

Third Place Poetry

Skin Deep by Lachai Allen

Think deeper than skin deep

The colors on my shirt don’t represent me

Think deeper than skin deep

Those cops killing black people like farmer’s skin meat

Think deeper than skin deep

These black people not seeing what’s beneath the sheets

Think deeper than skin deep

Don’t you see that blood running down your street?

That gunshot right behind his cheek

Your son looking down as they frown upon thee

No we are not taught to bow before thee

We are taught to fight amongst peace

Think deeper than skin deep

If it was you would you lay up crying in the sheets?

Nobody’s thinking deeper than skin deep

Why is the importance of the skin on me?

We were all created to have our own identity

Think deeper than skin deep

We are here to become more than skin deep . . .

One Cream, One Sugar

by Brittany Lawson

One Styrofoam cup of coffee, One cream, one sugar, That is enough to Hold the universe together,

At least for A few more Hours.

A Monster in the Dark

by Tad Armentrout

My heart hammers my ribs and chest

No place to hide, no place to rest

If you hear me, this is no jest

Save me please! I beg!

Mortal fear grips my soul

To flee this Hell, my only goal

Yet on me, it’s taken its toll

I hear the infernal hiss.

Try as I might, there is no evasion It haunts and stalks my imagination

I pray to God this is a hallucination

A bang in the vent above.

I never met it, and for that I’m glad

Though maybe the lucky ones are those who had

To die quickly, perhaps not so bad

A chorus of screams fill the hall.

The gunshots, for all their flash, do no harm

The creature itself feels no alarm Its angered shriek, full of disarm

Suddenly only silence.

Oh no! My breathing has brought it near. My body shakes with naught but fear. It lifts me up as the last thing I hear Is the hiss and bite... It won.

Boy Blue by Brittany Lawson

A little blue boat bobs On the water that is Black or green or garish grey.

Little hands reach to catch The little boat bobbing; They cannot reach. It is too far away.

Little hands reach to catch The little hot tears running; They cannot catch them all, But that is okay.

A little boat bobs On the water; The little hands have Gone away.

A Night’s Flight

by Denise Weigand

Swiftly through the mist I go Silently stalking my prey.

Nothing shall notice me this dark night under the dim, orange moon.

Golden eyes pierce through shades of browns and blues, Looking for a soul to ensnare.

Something scurries below, my talons reach, grasping for a life.

Wings stretched ready for what is to come, there is no joy, simply instinct and grace.

Silence follows the small squeak, not even my velvet wings can be heard.

Back to the nest I fly, Waiting for sunrise to come.

Frenchtoast-Dreams by Liam Tobeler

Bathed in an egg reservoir of liquid gold. Showered upon by a sandstorm of cinnamon. Scorched lightly, by the bright blazing sun.

This meager loaf of bread, now beyond repute. Its aroma whispers “sweet” honeyed words, To the deep dark depths of your stomach. A ravenous urge takes control of you. That which even one hundred men cannot restrain. You leap forward as if to save a maiden in distress.

There she is, calling out for help Falling to her ruin, pleading for a savior, A tear of syrup falls down her cheek.

You reach her just in time and your arms embrace. Noticing the maiden is sticky to the touch You gently hold her close and steal a sweet syrupy kiss.

Block by Lyndsey Phillips

Block.

Block.

Block.

Block.

A children’s block.

A block of text, No, a children’s block.

Block.

Block.

Block.

A block of time.

A block of cheese, No, a block of time.

Block.

Block.

Block.

A block of wood. A block of ice, No, a block of wood.

Block.

Block.

Block.

Writer’s Block.

Ode to Chick-fil-A

by Madilynn Lyons

When my stomach is a hollow cave, And shouts of hunger bellow deep below. I listen to their echoing cries, “There is but one place we must go!” Onward to Chick-fil-A!

My body yearns to be near her. The order engraved in my memory For I am a Chick-fil-A connoisseur.

“Give me a crispy chicken sandwich with a side of waffle fries.

Complete with a classic lemonade— I’ll take your largest size!”

As I reach the grand establishment, My heart begins to surge. Soon my hunger will be silenced! From great bliss I will emerge.

Surveying the vacant vicinity I cry out in tremendous dismay! When I come to the bitter conclusion, That today happens to be Sunday.

Kiven Steitz

Thin Blue Lines by

Like flowers in spring we shall rise, United we stand, divided we fall. Standing amongst those with evil in their eyes. Where will you be when you receive the call?

Marching shoulder to shoulder, side by side. Brothers in arms till the end.

Conforming to laws, which we must abide. Protecting those who we must defend.

This is our call to action, A choice not easily made. We pick up speed gaining traction, One last fight before we fade.

We are the saints in blue, Our only duty is to you.

Déjà vu

By Lachai Allen

déjà vu

Oh I see you

I see this

I’ve seen it all

The way you walk you sit up tall

I’ve seen you

I’ve seen this

This magical feeling, I feen for this

The thought of death approached my mind

I’ve seen it

I see it all the time

The clouds are blue

That’s pretty obvious to you

But what I see is a sky that only shines upon you

Not very blue but dark and mysterious

Leaving a sense that life is serious

I’ve seen you

I’ve seen this

A world so cold and full of bliss

Blessed with life suffered but despite The love you give will always be at will

I see you

I’ve seen this

I see it all

Young and so small but intellectual to all

I’ve been through much but not seen it all

Sometimes I feel as if I’m only dreaming it all

That it isn’t real and I’ll wake up soon

To the sound of chirping birds and one of my favorite toons

If I was to die before I wake

I’ll imagine your face & the times that took place

I’ll think about the good time and maybe more

The happy faces and all that we adore

Realizing the beauty in the life I had

Deja Vu

Let death see you

But you not see it

Because if it comes it’ll be harder to let go if you’ve already seen it

Unattainable Dreams

By Maggie Gebhardt

In this moment

I realize our most vivid dreams Are the ones that feel most out of reach

Taking all of me

Every hope, every want Pulling, just like a leech

With my eyes closed, I will never see Just what lies on my future path

“You can do what you dream” Never happens, it seems A completely unattainable task

I dreamed for you

Dreamed for us

And dreaming alone

Here I lie

Fighting for you

Both awake and not

No matter

Alone

Here I lie

If I could only change what’s in your dreams

Then maybe you’d see it, too

My lips on yours

Arms holding tight

Never letting go of you

But now I know I have lost control I’ve given it all, it seems

Both awake and not

We’ll never be Even in these unattainable dreams

I dreamed for you

Dreamed for us

And dreaming alone

Here I lie

Fighting for you

Both awake and not

No matter

Alone

Here I lie

No matter Alone

Here I lie

When I See

By Clarice Fels

When I see nature

It makes my heart full

All of the elegant trees

Standing rangy like wooden giraffes

The swamp full of bacillus

Woods full of mammalian life

Uninterrupted

When I see the sun

Its beams suppressed by the clouds

Like a small child hiding from a stranger

The allure of the earth Is also in me

As we are tempting to others,

The earth’s beauty entrances me

The beauty of creation

Venerating

Sunlight so iridescent

Birds so mellifluous

Soil so marshy

It’s these things

That make my soul sound

With the tone of the earth

Resonance ringing on like a church bell

Reflection of a Storm

By Catherine Barnard

Face pressed against A cool window pane

Tumbleweed eyes reflect

The unraveling terrain

A tall spindly Oak Trembles

She bows to the Earth

Dancing violently

With the wind

Sharp angled light

Lashes out from above

Briefly kissing consciousness

Before vanishing

Leaving the sweet taste of love

Sparkling spheres of water

Break loose from the skies

They tumble down

Reflecting their liberty

In tumbleweed eyes

Face pressed against A cool window pane

--watching the storm

She is dry

From the rain

Earth Hum Song

By Brittany Lawson

If you put your ear to the ground You’ll hear it.

Feel the warm kiss of the Earth

Like a mother you have always Known.

Feel the dirt touch your skin But do not call it what you Know it as; Give it a new name.

Call it Mother, Call it Father, Call it life in the barest Sense of the phrase.

Close your eyes and See with your heart. Remember that you Still have one beating Inside you.

What is there but thisThe Earth hum song. We feel it but forget The tune.

Lie still.

Let the sun bake your skin. Feel the light dance beneath Every wisp and sinew that equates To your living vessel.

Soft vines will grow Up from the soil beneath Your outstretched fingers. Let them hold you, whisper Brother- sister, whisper. They are singing The tune- it lives in them.

It lives in you, too,

But you can’t quite hear it.

Listen to the call

As the ancient trees

Chant to you in dreams, Asking this once for you to come Home.

Home, home, hum.

Your dreams are like Siren calls

Leaving you gasping and Breathless.

What is there but this?

Dig your fingers in the ground

Feel the cool gentle soil

Let it fill you again.

You were born with Its waves of sorrow

It lifted you high with Joyous exaltation

Sing now the way the Earth sings: In your tissues

In your brain cells

In your bones

Hum, hum.

Sing with the voice of One who is constant.

“We are here, here now, Tomorrow, forever. We are one.”

Of the same Earth. Of the soil.

Father Mother Life Home

Repeat

By Kiven Steitz

There is a constant motion to life, We wake, we sleep, and we repeat. We stuff our bellies and quench our thirst, Yet we are always left wanting more. We strive for knowledge and power, Though we sit expecting it to come to us.

Is it just us?

Are we alone in this life?

We lay in darkness without power, Left to think our thoughts on repeat. It feels as if there is something more, It is our internal thirst.

Wanting to know the answers is our thirst. Who is left but us?

Is there more?

Is there more to this simple life?

Why are we stuck in this cycle of repeat? The answers are gained through power.

We are nothing without power. Left alone with this unquenchable thirst, Constantly asking questions on repeat What more is there to us?

Why are we given this life? We fill the void with meaningless things and more.

But wait there’s more!

Technology running our lives filled by power, Do they help or hinder life?

Running all day in constant thirst. They are nothing without us.

Forced to evolve or doomed to repeat.

Every day is a constant repeat. A constant need to know more, It is what compels us. The need and want for power, Much like technology and its thirst. It’s thirst for power which is life.

We are all forced to live this life, Each day left wanting more. We wake, we sleep, and we repeat.

Muted Colors

By Lyndsey Phillips

The sunsets of vibrant reds, oranges, yellows.

The dying leaves of these same colors scatter the floor of earth. Dark green grass, bright blue skies. The things we see every day, and take for granted. The colors all around us that we don’t seem to care that much about.

“Yeah. Another sunset.” you hear someone say. But you don’t see the vibrant colors. You don’t enjoy the leaves scattered on the ground, or even the color of the sky. To you, all these colors are jaded, muted, toned down. You wear your dark tinted sunglasses every morning, afternoon. For the sunrise and the sunset. For the falling of the leaves and the colors all around you. You wish to experience them in all their glory, their splendor, their simplicity, but you can’t.

You wear your sunglasses sometimes even at night because the stars and the moon are gleaming too much. Too bright. Too close. And you wish, if only for a second to see the colors all around you Without a pounding in your head. Or a squint of your eye. A wrench in your stomach. But you can’t.

Naps 4 Dayz

By Liam Tobeler

I am known as the first nap connoisseur Time, place, position, truly matters not. When I sleep it is in utmost grandeur Napping is my life, please give that a thought.

You may wonder how this man came to be A simple man like me, lost in my dreams. These euphoric dreams, are all I can see. Dreams are my only vice or so it seems.

When the dark waves of slumber creep upon The time just seems to vanish, slip and go. Into my deep trance, I stumble along And my luminous dreams do naught but grow.

Daylight, I do wish, I never knew her Her cold hard gaze, my sleep, it does deter.

Those Feelings

By Kole Hinton

The long bus rides are a drag, But Those Feelings are worse

When you get dressed you create yourself, your swagger

The tight tape and the clean gloves are the accents to your game You really try not to think of Those Feelings, only greatness

You lock arms with your brothers as you go onto your battlefield for the next 60 minutes Your body gives way to adrenaline as each minute ticks by Your thoughts become a blur as you walk into position Nobody understands really how much you’re about to give, Just to avoid Those Feelings

Every 6 seconds you give your entire body for the man next to you Each visual you get is a puzzle to decipher You’re a bomb technician repeatedly defusing a bad situation It’s just a numbers game, the more you have equals victory You want That Feeling, not Those Feelings

Those Feelings are your fear Those Feelings are your motivation

Letting Go

By Rebecca Garrett

Late summer morning

You and I snapping beans, rocking in the old porch swing, silent but for the creak and moan, back and forth mesmerizing, soothing. A squirrel skitters across the yard chased by an unseen foe. A warm, soft breeze lightly lifts your hair off your forehead. I watch you staring off toward the rusty old windmill, blades slowly turning like a child’s pinwheel. I ask how school’s goin’. You look up at me, eyes suddenly becoming pools of glistening blue.

I catch your chin in my hand, lip quivering, skin baby soft, I want to reach out and wrap your tiny frame in my arms like when you were a frightened little girl, scared of the Boogie Man, snakes and sneaky boys. I want to save you from what pains you, keep you warm and safe against the big, bad world, tell you every day will be a sun-drenched day and you will play the part of the carefree girl laughing your glorious laughter, running out the backdoor, the scent of honeysuckle and fresh mown grass greeting you. I want to sing Jesus Loves Me and read Good Night Moon and snuggle you up under bright patchwork quilts, kiss you good night and don’t let the bed bugs bite. As much as I want you to be my sweet baby girl forever, I must let you go.

Let you fly on your own eagle’s wings, follow majestic dreams into the sometimes cold and daunting world watch you bloom like the crimson red roses in the back yard. I must let you go. I wipe a shiny tear from your smooth, honey-colored cheek. Be strong baby girl. I go back to snapping beans as a feather floats down from the sky.

Strength of Heart

By Tad Armentrout

What really makes a Hero Super?

Some fly, some are strong, some are fast

Some have no powers

But every Hero cares

Heart makes the Hero

To stand tall for peace and freedom

To fight corruption at its source

To protect those they love

A Hero would gladly give their life

They would fight to their last breath

When I Heard

By Denise Weigand

Once I heard the woman sing Something strange would happen But what she said made my head ring.

Her words were a wellspring Drawing me into the depths of her passion, Once I heard the woman sing.

Love’s cadenza separated from hate, how concerning… My hatred was supposed to deepen, But what she said made my head ring.

Vile, repulsive, dire; is what I should be saying, But those words would never ripen. Once I heard the woman sing.

My body swells, as every crescendo brings, I do not understand the words in Latin But what she said made my head ring.

I shall now forever be loving, For something that was closed is now open, Once I heard the woman sing But what she said, made my head ring.

The Mountain Song

By Brittany Lawson

The ancient monoliths Move in the dark night, Dance on the fringes Of vision, and sing.

I see them in my dreams. When I see them, I weep. They hold my broken heart “You are strong,” they whisper, Silently.

The dreams turned to longing, Burned like a star in my chest. Lifted weary feet to traveling, And with every step I wept.

For hours I felt like climbing. For days it often seemed, My hands were brittle, bruised, I could not grasp or clasp anything.

My feet were wounds that wept. My back was close to breaking. My spirit long since crumbled. That’s all there was- nothing.

I rose to meet the sheer cliffs. I slept dangling in their arms. All the while they stood by me, Kept me safe from danger, Safe from harm.

Long did they await my arrivalThe things I carried in my arms, The air I kept about meMy book of traveling songs.

I stayed with them awhile, They blessed my heart and wept, “Sweet child, you are mourning More from fear than contempt.”

They gave me all their lessons, Taught me to Rejoice And how to sing.

They righted my feet, Got me standing once again. Then they set me on the road, And descend, I did.

In my dreams they still whisper, “Mountain child, journey onLift your voice in jubilation, Sing loud the mountain song.”

First Place Fiction

Ambition by Dylan Lewis

The rumble of the gravel below sent waves through the two adolescents’ bodies, as if on pace with their beating hearts. Arthur, nineteen, sat focused in the driver’s seat, oblivious to the perspiration that had begun to drench the wheel in his grasp. He contemplated the decision that he was intending to make: one that could bring much danger, but a great deal of money as well. Arthur had grown to be a fairly successful pot dealer, at least among the local high school students, whom he would regularly swindle with his high prices. He would do this to make extra money on top of his measly minimum wage job at Pizza Hut.

Alongside him throughout most of this process was Fliehr. For the last year the two had been able to accrue a decent amount of wealth for two teenagers. Fliehr had jumped in with both feet. That is, until recently. Fliehr was extremely apprehensive about what the two were about to do—terrified in fact—but, still, came along due to his friendship with Arthur. He did not want Arthur to go in alone.

As Fliehr sat in the passenger’s spot, he noticed that his face had grown abnormally warm as blood rushed through it. His heartbeat had raised substantially since they had left Arthur’s apartment, with a subconscious feeling of heavy weights lying on his chest. Like Arthur, he had begun to sweat in his palms, while his mouth had grown dry. Fliehr took a drink of the water to his left, upon this realization. He wiped his hands on his pant leg as he tried to muster up the bravado to speak to Arthur.

“I…” Arthur and Fliehr both look at each other, “...don’t think that we should be doing this.” Fliehr’s voice sounded extremely weak, cracking as he uttered out the final word.

“We’ve talked about this, man,” replied Arthur. “We’re going to be fine.”

“No we’re not. I was okay with slinging dope to high schoolers, because it was low-key. Little risk to make some money on the side. That’s cool, but this is just stupid. We shouldn’t be fucking with this guy.”

Arthur chuckles under his breath, “Bro, Sam told us both that we would be good for this. You don’t even have that much to lose in this deal. I told you: I’ll deal with the guy, and I’ll do all of the incriminating shit. You just have to say you’re in, and make money. It’s that simple.”

“I’m not as worried about myself as I am about you— and you seemed to forget about Sam telling us to tread lightly around this dude. He said that he’s not someone to fuck over. He’s crazy!”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re not going to fuck him over, smart one.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not someone that we should be working with.” Fliehr was almost pleading with Arthur at this point. “We might be in the clear at first, but it’s going to catch up with us at some point. Have you never seen Casino? Or Goodfellas? They lived like kings for a while, but all of that comes back to bite you in the ass someday.”

He could, now, see the conflict within Arthur. Arthur adjusted himself in his seat, and began to show a nervous twitch in his left forearm. Fliehr knew that this could be his opportunity to persuade his friend to not go through with the plan.

He continued, “It might not happen tomorrow, it might not happen ten years from now, but sooner or later we’re either going to end up in jail, or fucking dead— and I don’t want to end up like that, man.”

Arthur sighed while simultaneously tapping the wheel with his right index finger. He knew that Fliehr was right, but there was something inside him, directing him forward. While it was obvious how stupid this idea was, Arthur continued to ask himself, What if it goes well? What if I can actually pull this off? He looked back towards Fliehr. “Bro, trust me, we’ll be all good. If the heat gets too heavy, then we can bail; but let’s milk this for all it’s worth. You’ve seen what Sam has been buying. He’s loaded right now!”

“I don’t think it’s worth it, man,” said Fliehr, with distress. He was completely flustered at this point. He couldn’t believe that Arthur still wanted to do this. The concern for his friend was reaching an extraordinary level.

“At least stick with me for tonight. We’re almost there. Then, after that, you can dip if you want.” Arthur didn’t truly want Fliehr to abandon him, but knew that he needed him calm for the moment. He could persuade Fliehr to continue their partnership after the night’s deal was made.

Fliehr sat silently for a moment to ponder this thought. He began to take deep breaths, trying to keep his anxiety under control. He turned his head from Arthur, looking forward to the road ahead. Finally, he uttered, “Alright, deal.”

The two had been driving down this gravel road for the better part of fifteen minutes before they finally came up on the address they were searching for. They turned into a long, extensive stretch of driveway before silently parking by the house at the end. The house had been relatively blocked by an impressive cluster of trees around it, but the two now had a clear view of it. It appeared to be very old and run down. Several lanterns had been hung at random points on both stories, exposing the house’s desperate need of new paint.

After the two boys left the vehicle, they began to walk towards the front door. As they drew closer, Fliehr made a note of how oddly similar the house was to the one in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, adding to his own anxiety about the situation. Upon reaching the door Arthur looked at Fliehr. The two’s eyes locked for several moments, as if questioning whether or not they should proceed. Finally, Fliehr gave a hesitant nod to Arthur, who nodded back before knocking on the door.

They could hear the knocks echo through the house as they stood. About a minute went by, allowing the boy’s anxiousness to return. Their hearts began to pound once more, with their breaths growing shorter and shorter with each passing second. Arthur felt his legs shaking, and wondered if Fliehr had noticed. He gazed at Fliehr, who was busy studying the broken down home. Arthur took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He tried to calm himself before he continued any further.

After several moments Arthur opened his eyes, and began to knock a second time. Once again, the echo could be heard as it traveled through the house. Immediately, a door could be heard close somewhere behind the one they stood before. The two were hearing footsteps now, and they were growing louder. Finally, they reached the door, which slowly opened to reveal a woman.

To Fliehr, she appeared to be pushing late thirties, when in actuality she may have

been middle twenties. He could not decide. She also had an odd aura about her. Fliehr saw a sense of liveliness inside her, but there was still something wrong, as if her likeness was slowly withering away from time and space.

She greeted the two adolescents before introducing herself as Evanesce. She led them down a long corridor. It was faintly lit by two or three candles, with small areas of the wall paper missing, as if ripped off. These areas revealed an old, rotted wood behind it. Evanesce opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Arthur and Fliehr to enter first.

In the far right corner of the room sat a man, who, like Evanesce, appeared to be several years older than he likely was. He looked as if he had neither shaved nor eaten in several days. The man’s body was skeleton like, giving him a sickly presence. His eyes were dead black, piercing whatever his gazed happened to fall upon. He had grungy, old hair that crawled out of the yellow stocking cap on his head. He also wore a yellow t-shirt, with yellow sweatpants and matching house shoes. The boys were perplexed by his odd, yellow attire, but, then, they took notice of the rest of their surroundings.

The room was a complete contrast from the rest of the residence. Apart from it being extremely small, it seemed to be the only part of the house with some semblance of vivacity to it. Every corner was lit with a vibrant light emanating from the lone miniature chandelier atop the ceiling; which, like the walls, looked to have had a relatively fresh coat of bright yellow paint. Half of the flooring were wood planks, while the other half was a soft, flawless layer of carpet. While the two differing styles juxtaposed each other quite noticeably, both matched the same shade of yellow as the walls around them.

In the far left corner of the hardwood flooring, sat an ample, yellow dresser. Next to it was a wooden desk, which appeared to have been covered in yellow spray paint. On top of the desk sat a few miscellaneous items, including: aluminum foil, a calculator, ink pens, lighters, a coffee cup, a flask, and a bottle of antifreeze.

Upon the two boys entering, the man greeted them with a smile. “Welcome!” he said cheerfully. “You arrived a little later than I was expecting, but better late than never, I’d say. Please, come closer! Make yourselves at home! Just, if you could, stay off the carpet for now. It’s brand new, and I don’t want it to get too dirty too quick, ya know?”

Arthur and Fliehr moved forward on the wood floor. Upon reaching the man, he stood up and shook both of their hands. His grip was mercilessly tight, and was cold to the touch. He released them and stood meandering for a moment, while an awkward silence fell upon the group. Fliehr began to look over the room once more, perplexed by its odd appearance. He found it extremely bizarre, and felt almost as if he had lost a bit of his sanity upon entering it. His heart began to beat a little faster than it already had, now that he was face to face with such a dangerous man.

“Would you mind introducing yourselves?” asked the dealer. “Manners, after all.”

Both Arthur and Fliehr showed apprehension at revealing their names. However, out of fear, they obliged. After they introduced themselves, Arthur mustered up the courage to continue the conversation.

“What about you?” he asked nervously. “What do you go by?”

“Hero,” replied the strange man.

The two boys stood silently, wondering if they had heard him correctly. “Hero?”

repeated Arthur.

“Yeah.” the dealer affirmed. “You know, like heroin. Hero—in. Get it?” The man gave a smile that was not returned by the adolescents. Instead, the two expressed fear. They had no idea what to say. They only knew that they were in way over their head.

Hero, realizing that his joke had died a miserable death, decided to move on with business.

“So... Uhhh… You got the money, right?”

“Oh… um… yeah,” replied Arthur. He took out his wallet and grabbed three hundred and eighty-five dollars in cash. His hands shook subtly as he extended the money. “Here.”

“Ah, that’s what we’re looking for.” The man took the payment and dropped it on the desk, before moving between the two adolescents towards the dresser. From it he grabbed two plastic bags of marijuana, labeled “Strawberry Kush” and “Green Crack.” He turned about and made his way back to the pair. “So—uh, off the carpet, please.”

Fliehr, becoming aware of his surroundings, jumped slightly at the man’s words, before moving back on the hardwood floor.

“Thanks. So, you’re wanting two O’s right?”

Fliehr started to speak up, before being cut off by Arthur. “Yeah, two ounces will be fine.”

“Splendid,” replied the man. “These strains are grade A. Best shit you can find.” He handed the two bags to Arthur, who quietly took them in his grasp.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, you mind if I ask you boys a couple of questions?”

Another awkward silence fell over the group as Arthur and Fliehr looked at each other. Both of their eyes expressed cold, hard terror, with Fliehr being the worse off. He took a few steps back, as if motioning for Arthur to follow suit, and accidentally put part of his foot onto the carpet.

“Once again, the carpet!” exclaimed Hero, obviously quite annoyed. “Off!”

Fliehr quickly pulled his foot back on the hardwood, and moved closer to Arthur’s side.

“Now, as I was saying, answer my questions. I’m a curious fellow.”

“Okay…” replied Arthur.

The man gave a corrupted smile, and let out a small chuckle. “Are you two going to be smoking that all on your own, or are you… you know… gonna be making some cash off it?” Fliehr attempted to speak, but only managed to utter out, “I—uh—don’t think—um,” before he was cut off by Arthur.

“Yeah—uh—we’re going to be selling quite a bit of it. Keep some for ourselves and push the rest of it. Basically be getting paid to smoke, ya know?”

The man let out another sinister chuckle. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Getting caught with two ounces isn’t anything to fuck with, though. What makes you want to take the risk?”

“Well, um…” Arthur looked back at Fliehr, who gave him a shake of the head. Arthur let out a deep sigh, before turning back to the dealer. “I just want to have a grander life, I guess. Doing this will give me an extra chunk of cash to spend on top of my job. I’ll be able to buy more expensive shit, go on more trips, and I’ll be smoking the entire time. I mean, that seems like a pretty comfortable life.”

The man’s grin grew even larger than it was before. “Yes… yes it is. I appreciate your attitude. Very ambitious. I love that.” He moved closer to Arthur and took his hand in his grasp.

“I think that we’re going to get along just fine, you and I,” he said while shaking Arthur’s hands.

Fliehr moved back closer to Arthur, stepping his feet on the carpet in the process. Arthur, seeing the apparent anger in the eyes of Hero, quickly grabbed Fliehr and moved him back onto the wood; throwing a look of irritation his way. Hero glared at Fliehr, who stared at the floor, not daring to meet the man’s gaze.

“Just know that I’m cutting you a deal this time,” Hero said as he turned his attention back to Arthur. “Three eighty-five is a damn good bargain for two ounces. I do that for all of my clients. The first buy is cheap, but do know that I expect something in return.”

Terror, once again, took over the boys. The muscles in Fliehr’s neck began to contract, while Arthur’s legs shook even more noticeably than before.

“So, when you finish selling all of that, you better pay me another visit.” Hero snarled as a foul smile spread across his face. As if he knew that he had Arthur and Fliehr trapped. The two processed Hero’s words as silence fell upon them. A sense of despair creeped into their minds, and their hearts dropped into their stomachs. They were frozen with fear.

“Um… I don’t know if we’ll be doing that,” managed Arthur. His voice was weak, and cracked multiple times as he struggled to speak.

“Oh, and why’s that?” asked Hero, as he took a step towards the boys.

“Uh… well… you see…”

“Hmmm…. I see what?.... What do I see?” Hero continued to creep towards Arthur and Fliehr, both, immediately, backed away from the dealer; his sinister eyes penetrating their psyche. After taking a few steps back, Fliehr, unknowingly, began to tread on the carpet for a third time.

Without hesitation, Hero shouted “I SAID STAY OFF THE DAMN CARPET!” He could no longer manage to hold the rage inside him. He stared at Fliehr, who instantly sprung back onto the wood. Hero began to pace back and forth, as the two boys silently took several steps away. Noticing this, Hero marched forward, moving Arthur aside in route to Fliehr. “All I asked from you was to STAY—OFF—MY—CARPET!”

“I’m sorry!” cried Fliehr. He had never experienced fear like this before. It was so strong it felt as if a dagger had pierced his heart. His life started to flash before his eyes. “I’m so sorry! Please, I didn’t mean—”

“WHY COULDN’T YOU LISTEN?! YOU STUPID LITTLE PUKE!” Hero grabbed Fliehr by his neck and lifted him off the floor, pinning him into the bright yellow wall.

Arthur did nothing through all of this. He couldn’t comprehend what was unfolding before him. He merely stood there frozen, as if his legs were stuck to the floor.

“You’ve done nothing but disrespect me since you came in here! You insulant little shit! You DO NOT disrespect me!”

Fliehr was struggling to breath at this point. His larynx was being crushed by the iron grip of Hero. All he could manage to utter out was, “I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean it!”

Hero reached into the back of his sweatpants with his right arm and pulled out a .50 caliber, his left hand still holding Fliehr in place. He pressed the handgun into Fliehr’s pale cheek. All of the color had disappeared from his face.

“I’m gonna teach you!” exclaimed Hero, locking eyes with his helpless victim.

“Please, don’t,” Fliehr groaned, but his pleas were in vain.

The shot rang out before Arthur had the chance to process the situation. For an instant, he could see Fliehr’s terrified expression from the flash of the gun, before turning away. There was a repulsive splatter as chunks of Fliehr’s skull impacted on the wall. The thud of his lifeless body hitting the floor would be heard in Arthur’s nightmares for the rest of his life, like an infected tattoo in his mind.

Slowly he looked back at the scene. There stood Hero, staring forward at the blood soaked wall. However, there was no body before him. Fliehr’s dead carcass was gone, as if it had evaporated into thin air. Arthur could not move; he could not speak. All he could do was stand frozen with his jaw gaping. He had never been as bewildered as he was now. What had happened couldn’t had been real. It just couldn’t have.

Hero made his way back to Arthur, appearing to be calm once more. This deeply disturbed Arthur, the fact that the man could turn his mood around after committing such a treacherous act. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said, as if unaware of the disappearance of Fliehr’s corpse. “Quite a shame. I did rather enjoy your company, though!” For a third time, he took Arthur’s hands in his and shook them. Arthur could do nothing. The shock of what had just happened had paralyzed him.

The man released Arthur’s hands and moved back to his chair. “Do come back whenever you’d like! I’ll always be here. Always.” He cracked an insidious grin that almost reached from end to end. “Evanesce will lead you out now.”

Evanesce stood by Arthur until he could manage to walk. His gaze appeared hazed over, as if he was staring through the walls, rather than at them. He took one last look where Fliehr’s body should have been lying, before Evanesce motioned for him to follow her. She led him halfway across the room, before the dealer stopped them in their tracks. “Oh—and remember!” he shouted.

Arthur slowly turned his head to catch the man’s gaze, still struggling to process what had happened. That sick smile was still on his face, not daring to leave it. His eyes were locked on Arthur’s, staring deep into that, now, scarred psyche. After several moments of silence, Hero finally spoke; and, with a wink, said, “Stay off the carpet.”

At that moment, Hero dissolved into darkness along with the rest of the room. The world began to spin around Arthur, throwing him off balance. A sense of extreme drunkenness came over him. He gripped his head as it started to throb. It was as if he had entered a bad trip of LSD, and panic began to overtake him. He was both confused and horrified at what was happening. His heart rate was alarmingly high— “Arthur!”—His chest was contracting— “Arthur!”—His breath was stalling— “Arthur!”—His sanity was slipping away— “Arthur!” Slowly, ever so slowly, reality started to set in. Arthur’s breath returned, his head ceased to ache, and the world around him came back into form. There he stood at the front door of the house, Fliehr by his side.

“Arthur!” said Fliehr in alarm. He grabbed Arthur by the wrist, who stared into his eyes as if he was seeing Fliehr for the very first time. “Arthur, can we just, please, get out of here?”

Arthur gathered his senses, realizing exactly where he was and what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and relaxed his figure, recognizing that this was he and Fliehr’s only

opportunity to get out of this. He looked back at Fliehr, who was trembling with apprehension. After relieving himself of Fliehr’s grip, Arthur gave a sigh. Finally, he uttered out “Sure.” Fliehr was aghast. He was astonished at what he had just heard. He didn’t believe it at first.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah really.” Arthur turned away from the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Overcome with relief, Fliehr gave a slight smile before heading back to the car. For the first time tonight, he and Arthur felt a sense of peace. They were noticeably satisfied with their decision to leave the premises. Fliehr jogged to his side with a feeling of purpose, while Arthur took a slow walk to vehicle. As Fliehr jumped into the passenger’s seat, Arthur turned and took one last look at the ghostly house. It appeared almost supernatural in the night, like an illusion whose only purpose was to trap any poor soul that encountered it. His eyes were fixed on the broken down home, as if in a trance.

“Come on, Arthur,” said Fliehr. “Let’s get out of here.”

After one last look at the house, Arthur sighed and opened the door. He entered the car and started the engine. The two friends, finally, felt composed as they proceeded to go back the way they came. Arthur and Fliehr were calm leaving the house, and did not look behind them once as it disappeared behind the trees.

Second Place Fiction

The Perfect Drive by Kiven Steitz

There is no greater feeling than turning over that V8 twin turbo engine. The raw power vibrating the carbon fiber chassis all around you. The idle of the engine gurgling, waiting to be fed the highly flammable high octane race fuel. Ready to unleash its 950 ponies. I’ve been racing all my life; I started racing karts when I was as young as six. I didn’t get good until I was around the age of nine. Since then I haven’t known what it’s like to not be on the podium. I joined the Formula 3 league when I was 14. Three years later I signed to my first pro Formula 1 team, Mercedes Benz AMG. My name is Will Straton and this is my story, this is my drive.

It’s race weekend in Abu Dhabi, the last race on the calendar for the 2020 season. This is the race that determines if I will win the championship or if I will take second. It’s been a close back and forth battle with the Ferrari driver Doug Hutch. Currently I’m one point behind him in the standings. The only way for me to secure the title is to come in first. I love this track; I’ve done countless laps both in real time and simulation. I know I can win, I just need to have a good day and hope the car is having a good day as well.

Friday’s practice went rather well, but my team of engineer’s instructed me to take it easy on the car and save it for qualifying Saturday and the race Sunday. I need to make top 2 today in qualifying if I want to have any chance of beating Hutch. I sit in the garage watching my team inspect the car and run a series of pre-drive diagnostics. I too do my check of the car and insure all is perfect. That’s what it needs to be, perfect. I can’t have anything shy of perfect this weekend.

“Alright Straton, go ahead and hop on in and we can get her started.” My Crew Chief Toto Wolf says. I give him a nod and a fist bump and climb into the cockpit of the car. I slip on my gloves, and then set the steering wheel into the base. I flick on the power and the steering wheel bursts into a light of colors and numbers. Toto gives me the thumbs up and I turn the necessary knobs and give the engine start button a press. There is a high whine and then the engine roars to life. I feel the car begin to idle in anticipation.

The team lowers the car onto its wheels and I turn on the pit limiter. I get the go ahead and roll out of the garage. Driving down pit lane I assess the car and determine if all feels right before I open her up. She’s perfect today. I reach the end of the pit and take it out of pit mode, this opens up the engine and no longer limits me to 55mph. I take it slow the first lap, warming up the engine and tires.

As I round the last turn of the track I see the start, I downshift and feel the car lurch forward under the engine break. I put my foot down and I’m thrown back into my seat at two G’s. By the time I cross the start line I’m already going 145mph. Coming into the first turn I reach 185mph before I have to brake. I’m thrown forward under the force of the brakes, thank god for my harness keeping me from flying into the steering wheel. I round the first turn and feel vibrations of the rumble strips on the curb as I fly over them.

“You’re making great pace through sectors 1 and 2,” Toto says over the radio.

“The car feels amazing today.” I reply over the roar of the engine. The sound is deafening despite the ear protection and my helmet. Though it’s something you get used to over

time. I fly past the start and my time couldn’t be any better for my first lap.

“Well done 1:35.59, that’s the fastest lap of the session!” Toto seems pleased with this, but I know I can go faster, and I know Hutch can as well. I continue to round the track lap after lap my time slowly improving. After six laps I’m instructed to pit the car and save it for the race tomorrow.

I drive the car to our spot on pit lane, throw it in neutral and kill the engine. The team jacks up the car and wheel it back into the garage. They can’t see it, but I’m grinning from ear to ear. I managed to finish with a 1:31.12, I knew Hutch couldn’t beat that. As my team comes around to congratulate me on a job well done, the Ferrari garage next to ours roars in excitement. Hutch just set the fastest lap time, a 1:31.11.

“Well shit,” are the only words I seem to know at this moment. In Formula 1 it’s crazy what a millisecond means, in this case it’s the difference between first and second. But it’s only qualifying; I’m still on the front row for tomorrow’s race line up. I shake my head and walk out of the garage, nothing to do now but get a good nights rest and prepare for tomorrow. My stomach is already churning in excitement and nervousness for the outcome of tomorrow.

“It’s race day here in Abu Dhabi, and ladies and gentlemen let me tell you, today we are in for quite the race. Ferrari’s Doug Hutch has secured pole position with Mercedes Will Straton second on the grid. Straton is just one point behind Hutch in the championship standings. The winner today will be your 2020 Formula 1 World Champion.” I hear over the radio on my way to the track. I rest my eyes and picture the day. I want nothing more than to win, but win or lose I will be happy knowing I gave my all.

After putting on my jumpsuit and helmet I make my way out to the car on the track. The roar of the crowd is just as deafening as the engine of my car. I raise my hands and wave to the crowd. I look over and give Hutch a nod; despite our ongoing battle all season I’d consider us friends who put everything out on the track. Today we will do just that, one last race to see who is the better driver.

I climb in and go through the start up process. I can hear all the cars around me roar to life. It’s funny how once I’m in the car all of my nerves and worries seem to go away. I take a few deep breaths and wait for the green light to start our hot lap where we get to warm up the car and tires before the actual race.

The light flashes green and all of our cars creep forward, when I say creep its actually 40mph but in a F1 car that’s rather slow. We round the track and return to our original starting position for the race. I throw it in the correct mode for the start. I want as much power as I can but also limit it to the point where my wheels won’t spin and cause me to sit there and burn out.

The red lights in front of the grid come to life, one row lights, then the second. It seems like forever for the third to light, it lights and I feel the nerves return. All three rows go dark and I press my right foot to the floor. I burn through first and second gear; I take the start mode off and do my best to beat Hutch to the first turn. It’s a close race and I have the inside line for the first turn but he’s too far in front for me to try to take the inside line without colliding. I let off the gas a hair and follow behind him. We have a long slight left after the first turn. I stay on his rear drafting him, our cars are evenly matched in terms of power and performance. It comes down to him, and me and how willing we are to push the car.

Half of the race down and it’s been a back and forth battle for first. Every other turn there is a new race leader. We are leading the field by over 40 seconds in front of everyone else. No one else has even challenged us this race, we both want the title of champion, and we won’t give it up easily. I currently hold the lead with only a second in front of Hutch.

“Straton I need you to box this lap, your tires are beyond the point of being any use to you, it looks like Ferrari is prepping for a pit as well. Not sure if it’s Hutch but regardless you need to come in.”

“Copy that, I was hoping you’d tell me to this lap, they are really slipping coming out of the corners.” I say back to Toto.

As I round the second to last corner I turn in to pit, I see in my side view mirror Hutch is doing the same. This means I have a good chance at holding my lead. As I approach pit lane I throw on the pit limiter and cruise down to my pit. I slide in like we’ve practiced countless times. When pitting it has to be perfect, for not just the crew but for the driver too. If I don’t stop in the right spot I can throw off the crew and add precious time to the stop. But this weekend everything has been perfect. In and out of our pit in two seconds, two seconds to change four tires and send me on my way.

As the race draws to an end I hold the lead with a little more than a second between Hutch and I. As I cross the finish line I see the Green flag waving signifying it’s our last lap. I switch the power mode on the engine, which lets as much fuel as possible in. My body is exhausted at this point of the race, having countless G’s forced on every direction of my body with every turn, brake, and acceleration. I continue to push the car through each turn not letting Hutch take the inside and get in front of me. He’s pushing just as hard if not harder, closing the gap between us. It’s a close side-by-side battle for the last sector of the track. We round the last corner, him on the outside me on the inside. I have but a few inches in front of him. For the final stretch it all comes down to shifting and will to win. We are neck and neck, rather than looking forward we make eye contact. Staring at one another as we cross the finish line. We slow and make room for those who still have a lap or two before their finish. I raise my hand and wave to the crowd as I make my way around.

“The stewards are reviewing the photo finish as we speak but I think Hutch had you. A great drive brother, and a great season, next year the title is yours.” Toto says over the radio. I really can’t be all that upset that I lost, I gave my all but Hutch was the better driver and rightly so.

“I hope your smiling because it’s official, you won by an inch!” I took a look over and Hutch gives me a thumbs up as we pull into victory lane. I park it in the first place spot and rest my head against the steering wheel, tears falling onto my visor.

I jump out of the car and immediately go over to Doug, we embrace and hold for a moment. So much tension all season and for it to finally be over was relieving.

“Well done brother, enjoy it, but next season I’ll be right there with you again.” Doug said in a joking tone. Little did I know at the time but I would never race Doug again. The following month he was killed by a drunk driver who hit him head on.

Third Place Fiction

Silence, Lights, Wagers by Liam Tobeler

Today, I find myself waking up in what I presume to be a stretch limousine. I don’t think I’ve been in one before, my memory is a bit hazy but, this clearly fits the description. Long black leather seats, some mood lighting and of course a champagne bottle at hand. However, I do find it odd that the windows are blacked out from the inside, it creates quite an ominous mood. I must tell the owner of this vehicle that this, does not suit it well.

As my thoughts linger upon who could be the owner of this fine specimen, I finally notice there is actually a man sitting across from me. This man looks important, wearing a fine black suit, polished shoes and a golden pocket watch. He briefly stares at me and then glances at his pocket watch and winds it up. I decide to try to converse with the man.

I speak firmly, “Pardon me.”

There is no response or recognition. Instead the man turns around and knocks on a tinted window, which immediately rolls down just a crack. He murmurs something to the driver. I can’t hear anything he says, but I see his mouth move. Possibly directions? I can only hope.

As the window rolls back up I try once more to start the conversation.

I say a fraction louder than before, “Sir, if you don’t mind the intrusion. I have a few questions.”

Still no response. He just glances back at his watch and winds it up again, completely ignoring me.

You know, it’s quite strange trying to have a conversation across a limousine. It’s just the right amount of space to feel disconnected, even though you are so close.

Now that I think of it, we are moving so slow that my sense of direction has completely vanished. We could be going in reverse for all I know, or maybe we aren’t moving at all. I’ll just assume we’re going forward. Just a guess. Maybe we’ve gone across town, or perhaps already circled the globe.

I’ll try one more time to converse with the man. I cough briefly to clear my throat. However, at that moment, I realize my cough hadn’t made a noise at all. Not only was my sense of direction gone but there was also an unending silence surrounding me. I clap my hands and then knock on the nearest window as a test. No sound to be heard. Are these leather seats made of a miracle fabric that absorbed all noise?

This would explain why the man hasn’t responded to me yet. The contempt that had been building up in me has now dispersed. Instead, I am now intrigued by this man and why we are both here in this silent space.

I scoot along the seats, looking for clues. I don’t know why I didn’t do this at the start. I reach for the door handle. It is scorching hot!

“Aaahhhhh!!”, I scream soundlessly, while removing my hand from the door handle. I quickly turn to the man and see a devilish grin cover his face. His eyes glisten, saying without words.

“You will lose! You will lose!”

I shuffle back to my original seat. While I recover from my jarring experience with the door, my mind keeps recalling the man’s facial expression. It felt like a declaration of war. I didn’t know a man could make such a face to a total stranger.

The pain recedes and I settle down. I take another bearing of my surroundings and notice that there is now a light bulb illuminated on the ceiling above the man’s head. There are three bulbs on his side, but only one lit. I look above my head and see three unlit bulbs. I am sure that all of his bulbs were unlit before I touched the door.

What could it mean? What exactly made the light turn on? I must find the answer! Maybe it was because I tried to leave or perhaps it was because pain was inflicted on me when I touched the door. Once more I am reminded of the look on the man’s face. I’m sure it would be a bad idea to repeat my previous action, just to confirm my premise. I have an unnerving feeling that if he reaches three lit bulbs something bad will happen to me.

The man now back to his normal self, sits motionless giving me no further clues. His emotionless face is whispering to me, “You are no match for me.”

I still do not understand the rules to this game. My only choice is to wait and gather more information. I start to make myself comfortable and lay out on the long seat. My right hand propping up my head, I stare at my rival awaiting his next move. We stay like this, in our eternal silence, for a few minutes. Eyeing each other occasionally and subconsciously picking at each other’s brains.

Suddenly, a chill runs down my spine, that hideous smirk is once more covering his face. I had done nothing but lay here. What could have caused this sudden change?

He slowly glances at his watch once more, and winds it for the third time. His second bulb immediately turns on, illuminating his face even more. I now see his devilish grin at its zenith, a horrendous sight indeed.

My mind races, trying to decipher what had caused this to happen. All the while, he is still maintaining his grin, as if saying, “This is your last chance!”

In my mind, I frantically pillage through all the events that had occurred so far. It must have been when he was winding up his watch! That damn watch. I bet he can only wind it once every couple of minutes and if he winds it another three times I’ll be done for. Don’t I get something to fight him with? Realizing that I hadn’t searched myself for any useful items, I nonchalantly check my pockets trying not to cause any suspicion.

I feel around in my left pocket and feel a strange small coin.

“Well, that’s of no use.” I accidently say aloud. But then realize he couldn’t hear me anyhow.

In my right pocket, I find a pair of glasses. This piques my interest because I can see perfectly fine without glasses. I smoothly take them out of my pocket, doing so as casually as possible. I put them on and to my amazement I start seeing a red glowing wall of light directly in the middle of the limo, separating us, in two even halves.

I also see a red glow on the door handle that I had touched before. Lastly, I see a pair of what looks like some glowing circular pictures, one depicting Ouroboros, a snake swallowing its own tale, on the wall directly behind me. On the other end, I see what I believe is Medusa. What strange decorations, once again I must inform the owner of this decorative blunder. Ideas start to flow together. I have a chance. Yes, I’ll start with that, the glowing wall that

I can now see thanks to these wonderful glasses. I bet if he touches it he will get hurt and one of my lights will turn on. But how will I get him there? My gaze shifts to the champagne bottle that was conveniently located on my half. “It better be something expensive,” I say to myself. I grab the bottle and mouth the words written on the label to the man.

”Champagne Krug Vintage Brut, 1988”

His eyes widen knowing just how rare of a bottle it is. I quickly pop the cork off and pour two glasses. I drink one glass slowly, taunting him. He retaliates by winding the watch once more. That stings, but not as much as what I’m about to do to him.

He looks up at me after he is done winding the watch. I act like I’ve been defeated and look at him with a sorrowful face. I gesture him to drink a glass, fully accepting my defeat. He takes the bait! I reach out and hold the glass right before the boundary. He reaches out, but as soon as he touches the invisible boundary he recoils his hand in pain and my first bulb lights up simultaneously.

He stumbles back in shock. During his confusion, I move on to plan two. I put the cork back on the bottle and proceed to shake it. I am fairly positive that nothing that is mine can pass though this invisible barrier. However, this bottle was already here before and is a part of the environment of the limousine. I shake the bottle even more to build up pressure, all the while the man is still holding his hand in pain.

I take aim and pop the cork off once more, shooting it directly at the man’s head. It flies true and hits him square in the head. My second light turns on. Now we are tied.

I look at him in defiance, staring him down. Giving off an aura of “What do you think about that?” He quickly regains his composure and begins to wind up the watch again.

I’m starting to panic. He only needs to wind it one more time and then I’m finished. What do I do? What do I do!

Minutes pass but feels like seconds, I still haven’t figured a way out. A smile from ear to ear, creeps back on his face. Oh, no, I’m too late. He reaches toward his watch. I reach towards my pocket frantically grabbing for any sliver of hope. My hand brushes over the coin. I feel the indentation of what could only be that of an Ouroboros.

Now my face has a wide grin. I found it, my ray of hope. The man is confused by my grin but starts to wind up the watch. I flip the coin. Watching it spin countless times in this place void of sound. It bounces soundlessly of the floor and gently lands on the Ouroboros. I turn around and look at the wall behind me with the glowing picture that is a definite match to the coin. My third light flickers on seconds before the man finishes winding his watch. A bright light engulfs the limousine and I return to where I belong. I have won this battle.

-Note-

Strange events are a part of my everyday life. I partake in these games of sort, to further my wealth and power in this world. By playing these strange games against other people like myself, I can gain immense wealth and power by how much and what I wager. The higher the risk, the greater the reward. I wagered most of my memories on this game and was allowed to take a few helpful items into the game. While my opponent used his wealth to obtain an item that he thought would let him win outright. This is just one game of many more to come. Till next time, traveler.

The Room

by Denise Weigand

For five days Henry’s older sister Mary had been missing. It’s not an unusual occurrence for Mary to disappear a few days at a time, but on the fourth day even the teachers and other adults on the spaceship were starting to get worried. They pestered Berta and Henry, to see if they knew where she had gone, but they didn’t know. Everyone knew that Mary was the reckless one of the three. She was always getting into trouble when they would go out exploring. Berta would always find some way to turn the story, so that they wouldn’t get put on kitchen duty for a week. When Mary and Berta started school together, they learned how the ship had set out to colonize a new planet. Mary craved to know more details about the ship: how big is it, why did they leave their home planet, and how would they know when they find a habitable planet? She nearly drove one teacher mad with all her questions, and finally she was given an answer, “You will learn about it more when you are older.”

Well, Mary was not all too keen with the teacher’s reply, and from then on out she decided that if the adults wouldn’t tell her what was going on then she would just find out for herself. Of course they were never able to go out on their own, at the time. So Mary would drag Berta and Henry with her wherever she went.

When Mary turned twelve she was able to go off on her own without having to drag the other two along. She always would come back and tell them of the new and wonderful things she had found. If the rooms were grand enough and close to where they live, she would even take them there and share what she learned. Mary had always let Henry know if she was going to be gone for more than two days, so that he wouldn’t worry when she went on one of her long journeys. Berta knew something was wrong when Henry came crying to her on the fifth day.

“We’ll find her," Berta said as they stared out at the stars. Henry had been crying for what seemed like eternity, until finally he had no more tears to shed and was sniffling into Berta. "Mary shouldn't have left without telling someone."

“Where could she be…?” Berta murmured to herself, not wanting Henry to start crying again. I knew the spacecraft was big, but it couldn’t be that big, Berta told herself as she looked out one of the many port windows and watched a red planet pass by.

"Guys, you will not believe what I found this time!" A voice came from behind them, with genuine excitement. "It's one of the coolest rooms I've found yet!"

“MARY! Thank goodness you are back. Where have you been?" Berta asked as Henry rushed to embrace Mary.

"What do you mean? I was only gone for a few hours 5 at max. Look!" Mary lifted her wrist watch to Berta. (Once the children on the ship turn seven they are given their own watch to learn how to keep time and to learn responsibility.) The watch showed that it was 1600 and five days ago.

Berta stared at Mary bewildered, "How is that possible? You’ve been gone for five days."

"I-I don't know," Mary hesitated. "Maybe it has something to do with the room I found. Come on, follow me." Mary turned and left, giving them no choice but to run and catch up.

There was no way Berta and Henry would let her out of their sights for some time.

After they had walked for two hours Berta decided to break the silence, "How much further do we have to walk? My legs are getting tired."

"Oh, we're almost there.” Mary replied.

Two hours later they stood in front of the mysterious room.

"We really need to work on your estimation skills," Berta huffed.

"Ha! No need to get sassy with me, you lazy bum," Mary snickered.

"Hey, cut it out you two," Henry whined. He always hated seeing other people fight, even if it was all in good fun.

Mary turned away and opened the door. Inside the room were piles of food boxes. The room seemed to go on and on with no end in sight. Berta climbed up on top of one of the stacks to look out above everything.

“I wasn’t able to find where the end of the room when I was first here, and I ran for a good hour too,” Mary told them.

“Okay, but what about the time change. How do you think that comes into play?” Berta asked.

“Here Henry, give me your watch,” Mary demanded.

“Why?” He questioned.

“Just do it.”

“Ugh. Fine. Here,” Henry grumbled as he handed over his watch.

Mary placed the watch outside the room and closed the door. She turned to Bertha.

“Tell me when four minutes has past.”

“Sure thing,” Berta said.

After four minutes had passed Bertha informed the others. “Okay times up. Now tell us what’s going on.”

Mary went back outside the room to grab the watch then scurried over to them.

“Alright, here’s the thing, I think this room runs on a slower time scale than the rest of the spacecraft,” Mary said, showing them Henry’s watch.

Berta put her watch right next to it. “Huh, your theory seems to be right. Eight hours has passed outside, while only four minutes went by in this room.”

Mary’s eyes shone with the knowledge that another mystery had been solved. “They probably have been keeping grown produce in here so that it doesn’t rot, and if there’s ever a bad year of harvest, then the ship won’t starve,” Mary concluded giddily.

“What do you think would happen if people found out the room?” Henry asked.

“Well the thing is…” Berta looked around at all the food in the room, “at least one, if not all, of the cooks or gardeners must know about the room otherwise there wouldn’t be this much food here.”

“You’re probably right,” Mary agreed.

“We should keep this to ourselves, can’t let anyone know we found the room, so we don’t get into any trouble,” Berta said.

Mary and Henry nod in agreement as they leave the room. “Hope no one asks too many questions on where we’ve been, because right now I’m out of ideas.”

After the Light

By Tad Armentrout

Actually, I saw no light. There was no tunnel. No darkness either. I was simply in my bed one minute, and the next I was... somewhere else. I had no idea where I was. Not only that, but I noticed something different about myself. Nothing hurt anymore.

This really was a spectacular feeling. Let me tell you how it is when you’re old: what don’t hurt don’t work. For example, I lost feeling in my right foot several months ago. You can blame my love of greasy food for that. Anyway, upon standing on it, I would collapse. It simply didn’t work anymore. I could get around alright, but I was no spring chicken. Every other body part of mine hurt though, but that was before I ended up... wherever this place was. Now, I could feel my foot again, and it didn’t hurt. Nothing else hurt either. I felt like a new man!

“Feels good doesn’t it, sir?”

I spun around (I haven’t been able to do that in a long time). In front of me was your generic sort of business man: clean shaven, tidy hair, and a blue business suit. He appeared as though he could own anything he wanted.

“Ah... Yes, it really does,” I replied. “Where am I exactly?”

The man gave an amused sort of smile. “Where do you want to be?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re dead!” he exclaimed. “Muffin?” He pulled a pan of blueberry muffins out of nowhere. Strange, blueberry muffins are my favorite. Where did he get those? And how did he know I loved them so?

“I’m... no, I can’t be! My doctor said I had years left in me! I’m only sixty-eight!” I protested.

“Yes, but heart attacks are rarely good for one’s health,” the man explained. “You didn’t feel anything, yes? A quick and painless passage! Not everyone gets those! You’re really lucky! A couple centuries ago, I was in charge of this guy, Pablo. He was a conquistador. Well, needless to say those Aztecs go a bit crazy with the whole ‘cut your heart out in sacrifice to the gods’ thing.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” I interrupted.

“Oh?” He seemed puzzled. “So you do want a muffin?”

“No! I want to be alive! With my family!”

The businessman slapped his forehead. “Duh! I forget how sentimental you mortals are. Don’t worry, time flies when you have an eternity. They’ll be here before you know it. Sooner than you think actually!”

My head spun. I still couldn’t believe it. My granddaughter was supposed to play her clarinet for a recital on Friday. My grandson had a basketball game next week. And my poor wife Bonnie... My daughter Margaret had taken her out shopping. I had just laid down for a nap. She’ll be devastated when they get home! I couldn’t be dead.

Shockingly, despite his attempt to calm my worries, I didn’t feel any better. I managed to ask, “Who are you?”

“Who do you want me to be?” The man looked at me expectantly.

“Are... are you my guardian angel?”

I blinked and standing before me was a man who looked like he was peeled off the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. He wore dazzling white robes, had angel wings, and even a halo.

“Sure,” the angel said. “I can also be your Valkyrie. Or Charon. Or even Anubis.”

“What are you talking about?” I remained confused as ever.

“You’re Christian right?” the angel implored.

“Yes... So... this is Heaven?”

Immediately I was standing on white clouds. There were golden gates before me. They opened up as though expecting me.

“It is now.” The angel smiled, like he was enjoying my befuddlement.

“Will you just explain what is going on?” I demanded. I’d simply had enough. I wanted answers immediately, and I’d gladly beat down this harp-playing fool to get them.

The angel placed his hand on my shoulder. “You mortals are quite amusing. You only see what you want to see. You only understand what you want to understand. Now, why don’t we get some barbecue? Thor brought his special spice blend, and you simply must try it! Has a real zap to it!”

“Wait,” I said. “Don’t you mean zip?” “Nope. C’mon!”

First

Place Photography, Art, and Drawing Expressive Ballerina by Catie Dovin

Second Place Photography, Art, and Drawing

Chicago’s Alley by Ronan O’Loughlin

Third Place Photography, Art, and Drawing Losing My Marbles by Natalie Van Horn

by Austin Gardner

God Ray Watching

Winter’s Flower

by Michaela Pomajzl

by Taylor Ellebracht

Sunset Sea Turtle

On the Steps of Linn Memorial by Natalie Van Horn

Darnkess Never Falls On Us

by Ashley Brewer

A Bird’s-eye View

by Maggie Gebhardt

Under the Rainbow by Shelby Dodson

Homeless Man

by Mikaela Lewis

by Catie Dovin

by Taylor Ellebracht

Misty

by Abby Addleman

Light

by Charli Wood

Dew

by Lachai Allen

Synergy

Road to Democracy

by Lyndsey Phillips

Nature’s Stars

by Shelby Dodson

by Maggie Gebhardt

Stretching Beauty

A Step Back in Time

by Taylor Ellebracht

The Rainbow is Also Falling at Niagara Falls by Violeta Sevillano Pires

by Parker Johnson

8B AE AC 01

The Brooke

by Denise Weigand

Glass Half Empty

by Natalie Van Horn

Window to the Soul

by Taylor Ellebracht

by Jessica Maine

Starlight

Travlos

Reflection by Catie Dovin

by Charli Wood

Fog

Old Time Americana

by Cassandra Geisendorfer

by Denise Weigand

Life

On the Road

by Lyndsey Phillips

by Maggie Gebhardt

Humming Away

by Ronan O’Loughlin

The Bean

by Taylor Ellebracht

Fascination

All in Good Time

by Denise Weigand

Giraffa Camelopardalis by Taylor Ellebracht

Dovin

Cheetah Cub by Catie

by

A Romance in the Snow

Natalie Van Horn

by Abby Addleman

Masquerade

by Denise Weigand

The Grand Fall

I’m So High by Ronan O’Loughlin

Words

Hurt by Lyndsey Phillips

A Walk Through CMU

by Michaela Pomajzl

by Maggie Gebhardt

Stress Be Gone

by Ronan O’Loughlin

Beer is Good

by Taylor Ellebracht

Obi’s Curiosity

Floating by Abby Addleman

Greetings from Chicago

by Violeta Sevillano Pires

Joining Friends by

Maggie Gebhardt

by Parker Johnson

E0 0E B3 C5

Capture by Taylor Ellebracht

by Abby Addleman

Siblings

Second Chance

by Lyndsey Phillips

by

Bodine’s

Tractor

Michaela Pomajzl

Wild Chicago by Violeta Sevillano Pires

First Place Ten-Minute Play

We Never Expected This by Clarice

Fels

CHARACTERS:

JUNE: Mid 30’s short redhead with blue/green eyes. She works as a nurse in the same day surgery section of the hospital in the city of Chicago.

MELVIN: Mid 30’s, he’s 6ft tall has brown hair and brown eyes. He works as a lawyer in the city of Chicago.

(Lights shine onto the stage, two characters come into view. Melvin and June are beginning the process of moving into their new 4 bedroom home in the suburbs of Chicago, from California where they were originally close to June’s family. Deciding to move so they could be closer to Melvin’s family in order to get help with Liam. They were expecting a son, however June has had a miscarriage. The scene starts out with June and Melvin in their would have been sons future room. Coming home from an overnight stay at the hospital. Lights go up and you see Melvin and June standing by their sons crib, talking about the events of the night.)

(Scene starts with Melvin and June in Liam’s room, back from an overnight stay at the hospital. June standing next to the crib, hand touching the top looking into it longingly. With sadness in her voice. She looks at Melvin who is standing next to her.)

JUNE: Melvin?

MELVIN: Yes, hun?

JUNE: Why would this happen to us, we had been trying for so long. Kept an eye on my cycle to pick the best days to try, I was taking vitamins, we read all of those parenting books, and bought the cutest clothes with booties to match.(pause) We did everything right. This feels like some cruel joke the universe played on us.

(Melvin moves to the other side of the room, studying Liam’s ultrasound pictures framed hanging on the wall.)

MELVIN: (longingly) As soon as we found out we were having a boy. It was like a dream, I could see the little league games, the talks about puberty, and eventually the “talk.” But this, I never expected.

JUNE: (tearing up) Do we have to tell family just yet? I don’t feel like facing them with this news right now. I know your mother would make it sound like it’s my fault somehow.I don’t need your family’s “sympathy.” I need time to mourn on my own, mourn with you. (starts crying) Oh Melvin, we lost our baby boy. This doesn’t feel real.

MELVIN: (Almost cooing) Of course not sweetie,(walking over to June) We can wait a bit, until we’re ready to tell our family. About my mother, I know she can be a pain sometimes, but she can’t help it, she’s growing old. You know how senile the elderly can get. (Beat) Do you want me to call the venue for the baby shower and tell them or should I?

JUNE: (shocked annoyance) How can you even think about that right now Melvin? We just LOST OUR FUCKING SON! The very LAST thing I want to think about right now is that.

MELVIN: (in a calm understanding tone) Of course hun, I just meant when the time comes, which one would you prefer?

JUNE: Well why don’t we just cross that bridge “when the time comes”, huh?

MELVIN: (In the same calm and understanding tone) Of course June, whatever you want to do. (June moves to Melvin, her back to the wall and begins to slide down it. An exasperated look on her face.)

JUNE: (In hushed tone) I’m sorry I blew up like that, I just...don’t know how I should react, how does one react to a thing like this, Mel?(Questioning tone with some annoyance) The parenting books never say anything about this, everyone knows that this kind of thing happens, but no one wants to address it. No one prepares you for the possible loss of this little being that has been growing, living inside of you. (sighs) (Beat)

JUNE: (Quietly) Can we sleep in here tonight?

MELVIN: I’ll get the air mattress. (Melvin goes to get the air mattress and June is left in Liam’s room alone while Melvin is off stage, you see June sitting on the floor, head between her legs. Quiet sobs are heard.)

JUNE: (Looking to the ceiling as if talking to God) Why? WHY? Of all people this happens to, why us? You knew how badly we wanted this! (Saying as if trying to persuade or convince someone of something) We go to church every Sunday, put money in the offering, we donate to “Toys for Tots”, and THIS? This is how you treat us? “Your people” Hah! Some God you are. I moved here to be closer to my husband’s family so we could get help when Liam came. I love Melvin, but I hate his family. I feel like such an outsider, when they found out I was pregnant only then did they treated me like I was one of them. Melvin is the only rock I have here and I was counting on Liam to bring light back into my life. What the fuck am I going to say to them? (Says the word “them” like it’s leaving a bad taste in her mouth) (Melvin comes back onstage)

MELVIN: (Carrying blankets and pillows has the air mattress and pump, starts to get everything ready to blow up air mattress but realizes it has a hole in it) (Angry) Piece of crap has a hole in it, June. I guess no sleeping in here tonight. It’s chilly in here anyway.(rubbing his arms) C’mon we’ll go be cozy in our bed.

JUNE: (Matter of factly) I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll sleep on this floor, I don’t care.

MELVIN: (Snaps back with a tone) Sure thing.

JUNE: Excuse me? I know you didn’t just snap at me! What is your problem Mel? Please, enlighten me on what the problem is you have? Did you just give birth to a still born? --

MELVIN: (Raises his voice, June’s reaction is extremely surprised because this is out of character for Melvin) He was my child too!! Can you stop making me feel like a piece of trash father just because I’m not showing my emotions? June I thought you knew me better than this. (scoffs) I know it’s not your fault but I’m just angry. I’m so frustrated, we were so close. (Beat)

(June walks over to Liam’s crib, grabbing a stuffed elephant. Walks back over to Melvin. Puts her head on his shoulder.)

JUNE: (softly) I know, I know. (rubbing his chest with her hand while her head is on his shoulder.) This is going to be hard but we will get through this, together. (June and Melvin set up their sleeping area and lie down next to each other cuddled, Melvin is

the big spoon and June is next to him wrapped in his arms like she’s trying to forget reality.)

MELVIN: I remember on our wedding day how beautiful you looked-still look. (looking at June smiling faintly seems like he’s looking at a distant memory.) The dress you wore made you look like royalty. (laughs at a thought) Remember when your dad suggested throwing cooked rice instead of uncooked rice? Saying he didn’t want to be sweeping up all that rice and kill birds. How he’d rather just pick up clumps from the ground.

JUNE: (smiles at the memory) He is a kooky one isn’t he? (giggles) What about when your sister June so drunk she started hitting on the ice sculpture?

MELVIN: (cringes with a smile) Oh god, okay, okay. In her defense, she was on a lot of pain killers from having that tooth removed. (Beat)

JUNE: (softly as if afraid to bring up the subject) I remember our vows too...(voice trails off)

MELVIN: (Starts reciting them) The first date we went on I spilled beer all over your shirt. I must’ve done something right, because here we are now...(Laughs lightly) As the months turned into years I knew that we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together, and that doesn’t mean things are going to be perfect because nothing is. (June turns over and faces Melvin on the floor) There will be struggles, and there will be fights, but there’s no one else I’d rather struggle or fight with. June, I give myself whole heartedly to you for as long as I live. I promise to treat you like you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, because that part is true. (Tears come to his eyes) I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Ludwig when we’re eighty sitting amongst our grandchildren in our rocking chairs. (Beat)

JUNE: You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been, the journey that I’ve been through with you I wouldn’t want to go through with anyone else.(kisses Melvin on the forehead) I couldn’t be any more lucky to have you in my life.

(Lights dim with the final scene being June and Melvin lying there awake in each other’s arms on the floor in Liam’s room)

END OF PLAY

Second Place Ten-Minute Play Choices by Kole Hinton

CHARACTERS:

TYLER: (Senior) Defensive back, sub captain to best friend Thomas

THOMAS: (Senior) Vocal and inspirational Defensive Captain of the football team, plays defensive back

JUNIOR: (Senior) Quiet workhorse of the offense, plays running back, is childhood friend of Thomas

ERIC: (Senior) Typical looking ripped high school jock. Is an All-State linebacker, not the smartest guy in the world

MIKE:Friend of Eric was on the team before he got kicked off

CAMERON: Young despairing freshman sort of nerdy looking, wants to be football player

SETTING:

Locker room at the local high school after football practice 1 day before their first playoff game.

(A couple of players are in the background gathering their stuff to leave and slowly trickle out of the locker room, Tyler and Thomas walk in and start putting away their football equipment)

Thomas : (opens his locker and slams his helmet inside) Man this is bullshit. We deserve to lose.

TYLER: (With a disgusted look on his face) What’s your problem? (as he sits in front of his locker opposite Thomas)

THOMAS: You see us out there always dickin’ around. No wonder we lose all the damn time.

TYLER: Oh okay so you just gonna be like that now, huh?

THOMAS: Be like what? I didn’t move schools to lose. (points to himself) I’m trying to win and we got people out here who couldn’t care less. This is my dream bro, and people are getting in the way.

(Everyone has left the locker room besides Cameron. The players don’t notice he is still there, as Eric and Junior walk in. Their lockers are opposite each other and two lockers down from Thomas and Tyler)

TYLER: Yeah so what you gonna do about it? Sit there and bitch? After all that stuff we went through in the summer and now you just gonna throw it away and be mad because of one practice?

THOMAS: No it just pisses me off because it’s every practice. All the time. And we only got one shot at this thing.

ERIC: (putting his things away and looking at Thomas) You talking about when Bradly blindsided you?

THOMAS: Yeah man did you see that? After I was gonna light him up but I didn’t because it’s a fucking run through.

ERIC: Yeah I seen that. You pulled up on him then kept going and then he just laid you out. It was some hoe shit bro.

TYLER: So that’s why you’re mad? Because Bradly? You know he’s an idiot.

THOMAS: But that’s my point all we got is each other. We’re the core of the team and we’re surrounded by a bunch of morons. It’s annoying.

JUNIOR: Yeah I know what you mean bro. Bradly and Darrell always be bullshittin on the sidelines when we tryna run through our plays on offense. (Thomas shakes his head) Yeah Darrell was talking about going to smoke after practice. I just looked at him like what? What is wrong with you? And he was like “Aw man it’s not a big deal.” I just looked at him. I didn’t even know what to say to that. Some people just don’t got the mentality like we do.

THOMAS: (Thomas stands up looking even more upset and slams his locker shut before turning to Eric) (In an accusing and loud tone but not yelling) Speaking of which what is this shit I hear about you slanging dope?

ERIC: Aw, no bro it’s not even like that—

THOMAS: (Interrupting Eric) No no no I don’t wanna hear all that. Is it true?

ERIC: No, I just got caught with a pipe in my car when I got pulled over yesterday going to lunch but it wasn’t even mine. It was Mike’s.

TYLER: You’re an idiot.

THOMAS: So what’s that mean for tomorrow? Does coach know?

ERIC: Yeah it just means I can’t play until I get all my court stuff figured out.

TYLER: You’re an idiot.

CAMERON: (With a young freshman despairing voice) Well there goes our season. It’s been fun while it lasted guys.

THOMAS: (still visibly upset and confused on who said that) What?

JUNIOR: Who said that? Is that you Cameron? (Cameron comes over into their row)

CAMERON: Yeah

JUNIOR: What’s wrong with you?

CAMERON: What? He’s accounted for 67% of our tackles this season and we already suck so obviously we’re going to lose tomorrow.

TYLER: Cameron, shut up and go home.

CAMERON: Okay I’m just telling you guys don’t get your hopes up. (Cameron goes back to his locker and starts gathering up his things)

THOMAS: (turns his attention back to Eric) So you just weren’t gonna show up tomorrow or what?

ERIC: No see —

THOMAS: (Interrupting Eric) Is that what Ccoach wanted us to meet with him tomorrow about?

JUNIOR: Yeah, Coach Sam already talked to me about it. Said we were gonna vote to keep him on the team or not.

TYLER: God. You’re an idiot.

THOMAS: (Looks at Tyler ) Are you gonna say anything productive? (Looks back at Eric) Dude. what were you thinking? I mean honestly, you supposed to be a part of this core group. We all we got. Us 4 are the heart and soul of this whole operation and you go do some dumb shit like that? (Looks back to Tyler) This is what I’m talking about, man. Even we can’t keep our stuff together. How’re we supposed to take this 4-4 team to State? (Looks back to Eric) You’re one of

the key pieces! I told you to stay away from Mike. I TOLD YOU THAT. C’mon man we’re boys you know that. You, me, and Junior been playing together since we were little and I knew I wanted to come over and play with you guys.

ERIC: Bro, why do you even care?

(Junior and Tyler finished putting their stuff away and are just sitting watching)

CAMERON: (shouts, as he is leaving the locker room) Yeah who cares? Milton is gonna destroy us. All hope is lost.

JUNIOR, TYLER, THOMAS: Shut up Cameron!

THOMAS: (looks at Eric) Why do I even care?? What’re you talking about? We made a pact this summer to do this thing. To give it all we got. Like Tyler said we’ve put in the work but we haven’t been on the same page since the season started. We’ve just been BSing this whole time. We need you! We need everybody. We gotta get EVERYONE on the same page. But we can’t worry about them until we fix us. Man you know I’m gonna vote you to stay with us but you gotta promise me to stay out of trouble. Stay away from Mike. And stay away from DOPE!

MIKE: (Enters the locker room looking around for Eric) Eric you still giving me a ride home bro?

THOMAS: (To Mike) You have 5 seconds to get the fuck out of here.

MIKE: (looking confused) What?

THOMAS: (stands up fist clenched) I said get the fuck out of here.

TYLER: (stands up ready to hold Thomas back) Relax.

ERIC: (turns to Mike and starts pushing him out the locker room) Bro just go, I’ll meet you at my car.

THOMAS: (sits back down) You’re still giving him rides… seriously.

ERIC: I can’t just turn my back on him man, you know how his home life is. (Eric’s done putting his stuff away and sits down next to the rest of the guys)

JUNIOR: I know what you mean, but at some point you have to let people sink or swim. You can’t let him pull you down. I know you wanna try and save everyone, but you can’t.

TYLER: Yeah you have to take care of yourself first bro.

THOMAS: You are one of the best linebackers in the state. You have a chance to get out of here and go some place.

ERIC: I mean that’s only if I can get my grades up. You know I’m not any good at school.

JUNIOR: If you need help you gotta ask for it. Any of us would help tutor you. Me especially.

ERIC: You think you could help me with college algebra then?

JUNIOR: (looks like he was put on the spot and then looks to Thomas) Uh… I think Thomas would need to help you with that one…

THOMAS: Yeah don’t listen to Junior he got a D last year. I got you though. We’ll meet this weekend to go over stuff. Sound good?

ERIC: Yeah that’s cool. Thanks.

TYLER: When is your court stuff?

ERIC: Next Monday at noon I think.

TYLER: Well during lunch I’ll ride with you up there and try to see if we can’t get this stuff taken care of fast. I have a family friend down there.

THOMAS: Since you’re a minor and it just being paraphernalia, they’ll just give you a misdemeanor and probably community service.

(Everyone turns to look at Thomas)

THOMAS: (No longer upset, smiles) What? Y’all know I wanna be a cop.

JUNIOR: (Gives a smirk) Oh okay mister detective tell me what class you learned that in?

THOMAS: I never smoked no dope… but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been down to the courthouse before. Shit we all make mistakes right? I just chose not to make mine two days before (cocks head and stares at Eric) we START THE PLAYOFFS.

TYLER: Okay. You’re both idiots.

(Everyone laughs)

(Everyone starts to gather their things)

THOMAS: I’m being serious though we gotta take care of each other and lean on each other. If we do that, we can do something special with this team. But we gotta stick together, no matter what.

(everyone starts to head out the door)

JUNIOR: Just saying… if we don’t go to state I’m beating all Y’alls asses.

(Everyone laughs as they exit)

END OF PLAY

Third Place Ten-Minute Play Essence by Gregory Owen

CHARACTERS:

STAN: A caricature artist

PHIL: A middle management executive on vacation

VERONICA: A local

SETTING:

The boardwalk in a California town. Present Day.

Warm sunlight floods the boardwalk as STAN, a caricature artist, sits drawing PHIL. The sounds of the ocean and the local scene can be heard. There is a small display with caricatures of celebrities posted about. A sign reads “Caricatures. Black & White $10. Color $20.” The audience cannot see STAN’s drawing of PHIL as he works on it.

STAN: So, tell me a little about yourself, Phil, what do you do for a living?

PHIL: Oh, I’m an account executive at an advertising firm.

STAN: So, like, what exactly do you do?

PHIL: I basically mediate between clients and our creative team.

STAN: Uh, huh. Nice. So… what exactly do you do, then?

PHIL: Okay, so we have companies who hire us to do their marketing, brochures, ads, etc. And we have the people who actually create the ads and things. And I, well, I make sure the two groups are communicating effectively, make sure the artists understand the exact needs of the clients, the nuances, that sort of thing. I make sure everything runs smoothly.

STAN: Really? That’s an actual thing. Wow.

PHIL: Ya, it’s more fun and exciting than I make it sound, you’d have to just sort of see what I do in person. Well, plus I handle billing and the more numbers side of things.

STAN: Got it. Sounds groovy. What about when you’re not in the office slaving away for the man?

PHIL: Oh, the usual things. I try to get a round of golf in when I can. I hang out with the wife and kids, do the family thing, read.

STAN: What do you read?

PHIL: Oh, regular stuff, crime dramas, John Grisham, that sort of thing.

STAN: Nice. How many kids? Tilt your chin up just a bit, there. Cool.

PHIL: Two girls and a boy. Ellie, 8, Alexis, 6, and Dugan just turned 3.

STAN: Sounds awesome.

PHIL: Oh, they’re the best. A guy couldn’t ask for better kids!

STAN: Nice, nice. So where did you say you were from?

PHIL: Chicago.

STAN: The windy city. Wow. Nice. Too cold for me. I’m happy being a beach bum here in

good ‘ol sunny California.

PHIL: Nah, you get used to the winters. They’re not that bad. The city is so great, so much going on, you don’t have time to notice the cold.

STAN: Still, I’ll stick to my beach. So, you out here on vacation?

PHIL: No, not really. Well, yes, technically. I’m using vacation days but we’re out here for my wife’s parents’ anniversary. 50 years. Big shindig, all her family is here.

STAN: Whoa, 50 years, right on. Well tell the happy couple congratulations for me. That’s pretty righteous.

PHIL: Ya, they’re great folks.

STAN: So, your wife is from here?

PHIL: Near here, she grew up in Santa Monica. We met in college.

STAN: Nice. Where was that?

PHIL: University of Nebraska.

STAN: Wow, Never been to Nebraska. Is it nice there?

PHIL: It’s fine. I like Chicago a lot better, though. So what about you? You lived here your whole life?

STAN: Oh, more or less, man. I grew up in the northern part of the state, always made my way down here during the summers and eventually I just never found my way back.

PHIL: So you studied art here?

STAN: Nah, I never went to college, like, officially or anything. I took a few classes here and there. Figured out it wasn’t really my scene.

PHIL: Gotcha. It’s not for everyone.

STAN: Right on. …Almost done. (STAN makes the last few strokes of the drawing, sprays it with fixative, rips the page from the tablet and reveals his masterpiece. It is not a caricature of PHIL. It is a caricature of a Pepsi bottle.) So, whadda you think?

PHIL: (after a moment of stunned silence) Um, what is this?

STAN: It’s you, man.

PHIL: Um, no it’s not. It’s a Pepsi bottle.

STAN: No, it’s really you. I mean, it’s not really you, but it’s, like, a picture of you.

PHIL: That is not me, I assure you, that is a Pepsi bottle.

STAN: No way, man, it’s totally you.

PHIL: Listen, Steve-

STAN: Stan.

PHIL: Stan, whatever, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but that is NOT a picture of me, it is a picture of a Pepsi bottle. Granted, it’s a very nice bottle, but I expected a picture of myself, not some homage to recycling.

STAN: Oh, well, I’m glad you like it man, be sure and tell your friends. That’ll be twenty bucks.

PHIL: I most certainly will not tell my friends and I am not going to pay you.

STAN: Whoa, what’s with the attitude all of a sudden? I’m just an honest man, an artist trying to make a living here.

PHIL: I am not paying you!

STAN: Phil, let’s be reasonable here. I am an artist. I have provided a service, and I expect to be paid for said services.

PHIL: You most certainly did not. I asked for a caricature of myself, and you drew a bottle.

STAN: It may not be exactly like you, man, but that’s the way these things work. It’s not supposed to be a photographic reproduction. We emphasize certain features, maybe draw your nose a little bigger or give you bushy eyebrows or whatever, man.

PHIL: This isn’t bushy eyebrows, this is a completely different thing all together. This is an inanimate object. I’m nowhere in the picture!

STAN: Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, man, you are in the picture, you’re important.

PHIL: What are you talking about? No, you know what, forget it, just take your crummy Pepsi bottle picture and forget it.

STAN: Hey, now wait, Phil, man, don’t be like that.

PHIL: What do you mean, “Be like that?” Be like what? I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. I sat down expecting to get my picture drawn and instead you chat me up all the while drawing a Pepsi bottle. I mean, what is that all about?

STAN: Hey, I feel you man, I can understand if my work fell short of you expectations and things, but you gotta cut me a break, man. I’m just trying to make a living here.

PHIL: Well, I’d say you’re not doing such a bang-up job. I mean, come on. A Pepsi bottle? Really? Can you even draw people?

STAN: Well, the way I see it, man, is that I DID draw you.

PHIL: No, you clearly did NOT draw me, you drew the recycling.

STAN: But think about it man, it really is you. It’s your essence.

PHIL: My what?

STAN: Your essence. It means like, what you’re-

PHIL: Ya, ya, I know what essence means, I just don’t understand how you figure an empty soda bottle is my essence.

STAN: Oh, well, man, you need to get in touch with yourself.

PHIL: What are you talking about? You don’t even know me.

STAN: No, dig it man, like you ARE an empty vessel, man. Like with your job at your law firm.

PHIL: Advertising firm.

STAN: Ya, that. So you take this information these clients of yours have and you transport it to the artists. And then you fill them with the knowledge you carried, so it’s like you’re a vessel that gets filled with all this knowledge and information by one person and you pour it out to the other person.

PHIL: That makes no sense at all.

STAN: Sure it does, man, so like you just need to be open to the energies around you and accept that you have this power and you are an important part of the bigger picture.

PHIL: Okay, I’m done. I don’t need your hippy-dippy amateur pseudo philosophical babble.

STAN: Well, hey, man, I can dig it. I appreciate you, man. It’s time for my break anyhow, I have a wicked thirst and need to hit the juice hut over there. Don’t say anything, man, but I think I’m close to scoring a date with that wicked cute redhead, Danielle, who works there.

PHIL: Well, I hope you’re better at scoring dates with redheads than you are at drawing caricatures.

STAN: Wow, thanks, man. You’re okay. Hey, tell you what, this one’s on the house.

PHIL: I wasn’t going to pay you-

STAN: No, man, I mean it. It’s yours. Have a great visit, man, and tell the in-laws good job. Fifty years, man, that’s righteous. (STAN leaves before PHIL can respond.)

(PHIL sits, looking at his caricature. He is about to leave when VERONICA enters. She sees PHIL and his caricature. She stops and looks at him, then slowly flips the parcel she is carrying to reveal a caricature of a Pepsi bottle. She and PHIL exchange looks.)

END OF PLAY

Heavenly Cheeseburger

by Gregory Owen

CHARACTERS:

AL: A regular guy

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: An average fast food employee, not too smart, not too dull

SETTING:

The present, any location. There should be no scenery and AL addresses the audience directly at all times, even when talking to the FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE. When AL speaks to the audience, lights should dim but not fade completely on FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE and brighten when AL speaks to him/her as if s/he is in AL’s memory.

(Lights reveal AL just off center stage facing the audience)

AL: First of all, you need to understand something. Okay. So, I had not had any red meat for over a week, because I was having my cholesterol tested. No burgers, no steaks, not even like Hamburger Helper or anything. Just chicken. And fish. I don’t even like fish very much, but I had gotten really tired of chicken. I had to sit by and watch as my friends and co-workers happily devoured their burgers, their pastrami sandwiches, their delicious tender pot roast lovingly cooked with carrots and new potatoes. I was really, really craving a cheeseburger. I needed a cheeseburger. My blood beef levels were dangerously low. But I wasn’t panicking. The blood had been drawn earlier in the day, it was lunchtime, and after a week of anti-beef hell, the only thing that stood between me and a heavenly cheeseburger was one pimply faced teenager. I walked up to the counter and ordered.

(Lights up on FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE behind and to the side of AL)

AL: I need a double cheeseburger, no ketchup and no mustard.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: So plain?

AL: Ya.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: What about lettuce, tomato, pickle?

AL: Um, lettuce, pickle and tomato are fine, but no ketchup or mustard, no condiments at all.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: So no condiments at all?

AL: Correct. Just meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickle. No condiments.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: I can do that.

AL: Awesome. Thanks. (To audience) Thinking that this had been clear, effective communication, I paid for my double cheeseburger, selected a booth in the corner with a pleasant view of the park across the way and proceeded to embark on what I thought was to be a long-awaited end to the beef embargo levied against my taste buds. I unwrapped the delicious doublestacked salvation, cheese dripping over the two heavenly patties of 100% USDA beef. I bit in and almost threw up. There was ketchup on it. You need to understand something: I hate ketchup. More than I hate Nazis and people who club baby seals; even more than I hate the

IRS. I returned to the counter. (To FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE) Um, I ordered this without ketchup and it has ketchup on it.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh, did you not want ketchup?

AL: No, I ordered it without ketchup.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh.

AL: Plain.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh. Sorry about that. Here, I’ll make you a new one.

AL: Thank You. (To audience) Situation averted. I waited while (s)he got me a new burger, returned to my spot and with that minor interruption behind me resumed my long awaited feast. Once again I bit into my burger. (Sighs) As promised, there was no ketchup. There was also no cheese. And no lettuce, pickles or tomatoes for that matter. I once again returned to the counter. (To FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE) You left the cheese off this time.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Huh?

AL: There is no cheese on my cheeseburger. It’s just a burger. I ordered a double cheeseburger and you got it wrong, you put ketchup on it, and when you fixed it, when you remade it without the ketchup, you also left the cheese off.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh. I thought you wanted it plain.

AL: Yes, I wanted a plain double cheeseburger. Not a plain hamburger. “Cheese” is in the name “Cheeseburger.” The very name implies, in fact it insists, that the burger have cheese on it. That’s why it’s a cheeseburger. Can I please get a double cheeseburger with lettuce, tomatoes and pickles, no ketchup, no condiments of any kind.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Sure. One moment please.

AL: After a moment I returned to my seat for the third time, sat down and once again attempted to enjoy my long awaited, highly deserved double cheeseburger. But no. Once again, I found, to my great dismay, that evil destroyer of burgers, ketchup. Again, I approached the counter. (To FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE) Excuse me, but you did it again. You put ketchup on my cheeseburger.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: I’m sorry, did you not want ketchup?

AL: No. No I did not. I was pretty sure I had made that clear. No ketchup. None. I want a double cheeseburger with no ketchup on it. Tell the guy who adds the ketchup to go take a smoke break. No ketchup is needed, or desired, on my cheeseburger. Please, give me a double cheeseburger with no condiments, just lettuce, pickle and tomato.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: We can do that.

AL: Then would you, please? Double cheeseburger, no ketchup.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Sure.

AL: Thank you.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: No problem.

AL: Thinking one trained monkey could only waste so much ink and paper before we achieved Shakespeare, I soon returned to my table, burger in hand, and sat down, confident that the (Continued) situation had been handled. Once again I was blindsided with an offense that sent my gag reflex into overdrive. Mustard! If there is one thing I detest more than ketchup, it is mustard. After spitting into the trash receptacle and doing an emergency swish with cola, I returned to the counter. (to FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE ) This one has mustard. I ordered no mus-

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh. Sorry. I thought you didn’t want ketchup.

AL: I didn’t. I didn’t want ketchup or mustard. No condiments at all.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh.

AL: Can I please get a double cheeseburger with no condiments? No ketchup. No mustard. Nothing like that.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Sure. No problem.

AL: Once again I resumed my spot with the view. Gun-shy from my recent experiences I this time decided to check my burger before actually biting into it. (Mimes looking under bun. Closes eyes and shakes head) I returned to the counter. (to FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE) You put ketchup on it again.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Oh. Did you not want ketchup?

AL: No. I did not.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: But it’s a cheeseburger.

AL: Yes, yes it is. And I ordered a double cheeseburger with no ketchup. No ketchup and no mustard. No condiments. I don’t like condiments. I’m allergic to them. Can I please get a double cheeseburger with no condiments? No ketchup. No mustard. Is that possible?

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Ya. Sorry about that.

AL: Now wise from what felt like years of experience I didn’t even bother returning to my chair. I unwrapped it right there at the counter. (Mimes unwrapping burger. Takes a huge calming breath and slowly exhales. To FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE) This is a fish sandwich.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Is there a problem with it?

AL: Well, as far as fish sandwiches go, I can’t really say. But I didn’t order a fish sandwich. I ordered a double cheeseburger. A double cheeseburger with no ketchup and no mustard. Can I please get a double cheeseburger without any ketchup or mustard on it? Is that possible?

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Sure. No problem.

AL: You say “no problem” but it’s beginning to seem as if that is a problem. I ordered a double cheeseburger with no ketchup and no mustard. Yet you have made six attempts to fulfill that request and all six have failed. All I’m asking for, all I paid for, is a double cheeseburger. With no ketchup on it. And no mustard on it. Can I PLEASE get a double cheeseburger with no ketchup and no mustard?

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Ya, we can do that.

AL: Can you? Really?

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: One moment please.

AL: I began to wonder what I had done to God. I hadn’t killed anyone. I hadn’t stolen anything. I hadn’t committed adultery or taken His name in vain or committed, to the best of my knowledge, an infraction upon any of His major rules. So, why had He chosen to send this angel of stupidity down upon me to destroy my dreams of a tasty all-beef lunch? Why was I being punished? Am I (AL Continued) Job? No, I’m not. I don’t even look like Job. I’m not sure what Job looks like, but I’m pretty sure it’s not like me.

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Here you go, sir. Enjoy.

AL: Slowly, I unwrapped this latest attempt. (Sighs heavily and shakes his head.) This was it. This was the final straw. I could understand the mix up with the ketchup. I could handle the

mistake with the mustard. I could even almost understand the confusion with the fish sandwich. But this. This didn’t even make sense! This actually defied the laws of cheeseburger physics. It was at this point that I gave up because suddenly, it all made sense. God didn’t want me to have two USDA Grade A all beef patties. It was simply not meant to be. I walked back to the counter, slowly slid the latest abomination across the counter and walked away. Maybe another day I would be allowed to indulge in the goodness of a delicious perfectly prepared heavenly cheeseburger. But not this day. For this day all I could do was accept defeat, hang my head low, walk out the door, and hope to maybe, just maybe, find a little bit of salvation at the taco place across the street.

END OF PLAY

Young Writer’s Day 2016

On Wednesday, November 2, 2016, Central Methodist University’s English Departments hosted its 4th Annual Young Writer’s Day. YWD is a day devoted to creative expression, providing area high school students with the opportunity to explore imaginative writing outside of the classroom. This year we welcomed more than 130 students from Fayette, Glasgow, Higbee, Jamestown, Salisbury, Slater, and Smithton to participate in poetry- and fiction-writing workshops.

Members of Sigma Tau Delta, Mu Lambda Chapter were instrumental in the success of YWD. They helped with every aspect of the event, from mentoring young writers to judging contest winners. Sigma Tau Delta’s mission is to “provide…cultural stimulation on college campuses and promote interests in literature and the English language in surrounding communities.” YWD is central to the Mu Lambda Chapter’s annual outreach activities.

The three best works of fiction and poetry were awarded certificates and books. In addition, the top YWD winners are featured in Inscape. The English Department and Sigma Tau Delta are proud to present this year’s award-winning submissions. Honorable mentions are listed below as well.

Poetry:

1.Erin Voellinger, Smithton

2.Hailey Sage, Fayette

3.Kaden Hoover, Fayette

HM: Kevin Curry, Salisbury

Chrisha Lawson, Fayette

Sophia Lauer, Higbee

Jaden Monnig, Glasgow

Travis W. Johnson, PhD

Assistant Professor of English Central Methodist University

Fiction:

1. Lauren Rector, Slater

2. Paige Newton, Smithton

3. Natalie Bishop, Fayette

HM: Thomas Widner, Slater

Emily Clark, Smithton

Brett Street, Jamestown

The Night

Erin Voellinger, Smithton

The freezing rain fell against the window

Lightning lit up the midnight sky

Thunder growled from above Suddenly, there was a knock on my door

The visitor’s feet stood behind the door

Illuminated by the flickering harsh hallway lights

I glanced out the window again

Rain ran down in streaks on the glass I wanted to go outside and stay there

The unwelcome visitor knocked again

I opened the window and started to climb

Out on to the top of the building

The lightning was my flashlight

Rain poured down as I took another step

I suddenly slipped on a puddle

Lightning flashed and thunder growled as I closed my eyes

Untitled Haley Sage, Fayette

I am as indecisive as the ocean. My reckless tides caught between two powers

The shore is my safety Forever my constant.

My tide comes in to delicately kiss you again But you are too sound I’m forever searching Is there something more?

My careless tide goes out to explore I couldn’t miss the shore

The unknown is wonderful, but it’s not certain. I now long for the shore, so out of my control, my tide back

I’m scared of my own hesitant tides

Scared of the natural of my own ocean

Should I run to the rhythm sureness of the shore? Or find treasures in something more?

There’s no controling my tides anymore.

Untitled Kayden Hoover, Fayette

Starting chilly and peaceful

With a gracious breeze rolling across

The water initiates a ripple

As the wildlife begins to stir

Proceeding further into the morning

The sun crests the tree line

Creating warmth in the water

Provoking its inhabitants to become more active

As the sun continues to climb the blue sky

A fist breaks the surface

Attempting to satisfy its hunger

Spawning a splash as it re-enters

The sun continues to cross the sky

A bullfrog begins to croak as the sun reaches the other side

The activity starts to subside as it sets

The lake then returns to its tranquil state

Fiction Lauren Rector, Slater

Two hours before her alarm went off, for the tenth night in a row, Belle woke with a start. She had the same dream as always. She was in a large room sitting with a little boy playing with blocks. She had never seen the little boy in real life, it felt like she knew him. After a while of playing the room would split in half and she was falling, falling but she always woke up before she lands.

The dream made her sad because for those moments when she was playing with the boy, she didn’t feel out of place. She felt like she belonged. Ever since Belle was found by a hiker in the middle of the woods. When she was six, people stared. She couldn’t blame them though. Belle was the only person she knew with wings sprouting out her back. And not just little wings, these wings were over six feet long. Even though no one had been outright mean to her in the past 13 years, everyone kept their distance in the small Maine town.

When her alarm went off, Belle was already walking out the door with her bird, Pilot, ready to go on their daily fly around the town. Waiting until she was on the road, Belle unfolded her wings and hopped in the air. Flapping her wings, she rose higher and higher until she was in the clouds. Laughing, she called for Pilot. This was the one time of day she could truly let loose and be herself. Spinning herself around, she looked a the clouds and almost fell. Staring at her from a cloud above was the little boy from her dreams. He was not little anymore, probably closer to her age, but nevertheless it was the same face. Belle hesitated a minute where she was, blinking because she thought the face was just in her head. But when the boy smiled at her she realized it was not in her head and was real.

Flying up to the face, a body slowly formed in the clouds below the head. Most importantly were the wings that formed behind him, slowly beating to keep him steady.

“How?” was the only thing Belle could get out even though many more questions were racing through her head.

“We finally found you. We’ve been looking for so long,” the boy smiled at her and offered his hand. Maybe it was stupid to take it, but Belle couldn’t help herself. This boy, she knew him, and she knew he was safe. “You must be confused. I’m from your home. We were playing when the great storm came. It tore the floor right in half. You fell a great distance,” he paused and closed his eyes as if blocking out the painful memory. “We weren’t even sure you would survive it. But here you are. We found you a year or so ago, but it takes much time to establish a connection with this world. But I found you.”

“Take me home,” Belle said with tears in her eyes. She remembered. She rememberd her life before. And with that, they flew off into the clouds together.

Tuesday’s Suit

Paige Newton, Smithton

The room smells of strong antiseptic and the bright light buzzes over the gleaming, pristine metal table. Charlie casually whistles to himself as he walks toward the cooler to retrieve the body. His footsteps echo as he walks across the polished, shining floor. There must never be any mess

“No mess; no muss,” Charlie says as though to reassure himself.

Charlie places his hand gingerly on the cool handle and feels a zing of excitement shoot through his body. It’s like that feeling right before the drop on a roller coaster. Charlie opens it with gusto and stumbles back as he sees the face he looks into every day in the bathroom mirror. Charlie feels as though he is falling in slow motion and as his head hits the floor, everything goes to black.

Charlie wakes to the sweet warmth of Beethoven playing from his radio. Charlie closes his eyes and drinks it in until the warmth has spread from his head to his toes. Charlie is so caught up in his enjoyment he almost misses how odd it is that the music in playing in the first place.

“Must have just forgot to turn it off after dinner,” he says to himself, knowing very well he never forgets anything.

Charlie stretches until his toes just touch the edge of wood on the foot of the bed. It isn’t until he lightly puts on his horn-rimmed glasses that he notices a light, repugnant odor. Charlie scrunches his nose up at the smell because odor means mess, and mess is not acceptable.

Charlie rises from the bed onto the rough, wooden floor. As he walks to the door, he shuts the radio off and the house is left in serene silence. It’s in these early moments, and these moments alone, before human noise filled the air that Charlie wishes for companionship. He sees no point in interacting with others and small talk is almost unbearable. He had gotten the reputation of the old, odd man on the end of the street, but that was fine with him. Everyone else was odd to him, like a puzzle missing a piece.

Charlie quietly saunters towards the wardrobe and opens it with a creak. His hand automatically reaches for his suit to be worn on Tuesday, but he is shocked to find the hanger bare.

Charlie frowns, deeply unsettled by this. “Perhaps I’ve hung it out to dry,” Charlie says aloud.

Charlie pads to the door and when he opens it, he is met with a gust of what smells like vomit that has been boiling in the sun for days. Charlie heaves and struggles to keep last night’s dinner down. “It must be something in the fridge,” he thinks to himself.

Charlie hurries down the stairs towards the fridge. He yanks it open and is met with molding

cheese and rotting fruit. Disgustedly, Charlie grabs it in his arms and rushes out to the trash can. Charlie’s head spins and he feels as though he’s back in his dream.

“This isn’t right; none of this is right,” Charlie gasps. He rushes back inside, stumbling over the coat rack by the walk-in coat closet. The rack comes crashing down on a picture frame on the side table and sends glass all over Charlie’s face.

Realizing what he’s done, Charlie crawls across the floor towards the frame, almost in a stupor. Shakily, he looks upon the weathered, fading picture. Looking back is a snaggle-toothed grinning boy clinging to his mother’s hand. A drop of blood rolls from Charlie’s thumb and blots the picture. Charlie shuts his eyes tight and remembers the night that left more of an imprint than a photo ever could.

He had woken for a glass of water and noticed the bathroom door was slightly ajar. A beam of soft light shone out. Dragging his bear, Charlie silently peeked inside. He had never seen such a mess. Red on the floor, red in the water, red in her beautiful, golden hair, red on him.

The smell still permeates Charlie’s being and Beethoven is ringing in his ears. He stumbles down the halls, pushing doors open. “Must find the mess, I must.” Charlie goes to every room until he comes to the bathroom door. Taking a deep breath, he softly opens the door. The mess had become his.

Emotional Star

Natalie Bishop, Fayette

The smell brings all of the horrific memories crashing down on me: the sounds, the feeling, the unforgetable smell. All of the grueling hours spent in therapy - a waste. I knew it was going to be hard - coming back to the place where my humanity was stripped down and brutally violated - but I never expected this. My life becomes a blur, almost as if I detached from my body, and my mind turns to putty. My legs begin to carry me down the hall. I take a seat near the back, completely unaware of the world around me. The bell snaps me out of my daze and I try to quietly calm myself down. While my classmates fill the seats aound me, oblivious of the war going on in my head. People turn to each other to gossip, share their weekend plans, and when I least expect it, he walks in.

I involuntarily wince, loud enough to earn a glare from a few of my classmates, because who in their right mind would dislike the handsome, charming, D-1 bound star quarterback? With each step he takes into the room my throat swells shut, tears sting my eyes, and my hand beings to throb. I think someone asks me if I am okay, but before I get the chance respond my world goes black.

I awake to the familiar sight of a white ceiling. Weeks in the hospital will do that to a person; however, this time I am in the counselor’s office. The hair on the back of my neck begins to tingle as I begin to sit up and I feel the eyes of several students peaking through the blinds. I hear their whispers: faker, she asked for it, attention seeking whore. I instinctively turn away. My counselor enters the room and after shutting the blinds, takes a seat in front of me. She is going to tell me to talk about it; I know the routine. Today I do not feel like fighting, so I take a deep breath and begin to relive my nightmare.

“I was raped.”

About the Editors

Danielle Mae Franklin

Danielle is a senior English Literature major working toward honors with a minor in Philosophy from Odessa, MO. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, Alpha Gamma Psi, Alpha Lambda Delta, Alpha Chi, Omicron Delta Kappa, NAVS and Conservatory Singers. She also works as a Student Resource Assistant at the Career Development Center, the Student Alumni Ambassador Executive Council, and she is the 2016 CMU Homecoming Queen. She found a constant in literautre when everything around her kept changing. Danielle enjoys adventure days and Pokemon Go hunting with her best friend, quality time with her sorority sisters, spoiling her dog Prudence, spending time with her family cheering on Kansas City sports teams, and capturing it all through the lense of her camera.

Contributing Editors:

Miranda Dahman

Miranda is a History and English double major from Harrisonville, MO. She is the Historian from Sigma Tau Delta and plays on the CMU Volleyball team. She believes that literature is about understanding life and the past, but also being able to create something.

Mackenzie Hustead

Mackenzie is a senior Secondary Education English major from Edina, Missouri. She is the Vice President of Sigma Tau Delta, Recording Secretary for Sigma Pi Alpha, and a member of Kappa Delta Pi. Mackenzie believes that literature is an adventura and an escape. It is a way to travel, experience places and situations without ever leaving your chair. It takes you away from your problems and puts you with fascinating characters who are facing their own challenges. Literature is an eye opener, a way to learn about one another, a way to connect. It can help you understand other people, the world around, and yourself.

Brittany Lawson

Brittany is a junior Biology major with minors in English and Chemistry from Tebbetts, Missouri. She is the Secretary for Sigma Tau Delta, Editor for Sigma Alpho Iota, member of Beta Beta Beta and Alpha Epsilon Delta. She is in University Band and Conservatory Singers. Her love of literature originates from a desire to understand others and help them feel like they are understood.

Lyndsey Phillips

Lyndsey is a senior English Education and Theatre double major from Bloomsdale, Missouri. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, Alpha Phi Omega, Alpha Psi Omega, Omicron Delta Kappa, Alpha Chi, and The Interactors. She is currently student teaching and looks forward to having her own classroom one day soon. She believes that everyone can learn through the arts academically, socially, and personally. Lyndsey has always believed the theatre can change a person for the better: give them empathy, teach them self-expression, and help them understand the importance of social change, self-empowerment, and the body. She enjoys spending time with her family, traveling, doing crazy things with her fraternity brothers, and exploring the great outdoors.

Contributor Biographies

Lachai Allen: Lachai is a sophomore communications major from Saint Louis, Missouri.

Catherine Barnard: Catherine is a freshman Nursing major from Columbia, Missouri. She is involved in Conservatory Singers.

Natalie Bishop: Natalie is a student from Fayette High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Ashley Brewer: Ashley is a freshman Theatre/Speech Education major from Salisbury, Missouri. She is involved in theatre, speech, and photography.

Shelby Dodson: Shelby is a senior Criminal Justice major from Fayette, Missouri. She is involved in Alpha Gamma Psi.

Catie Dovin: Catie is a freshman Marine Biology major from Jackson, Missouri. She is involved in the CMU Spirit Squad-Dance and Marine Biology Club.

Austin Gardner: Austin is a CMU Graduate Assistant for Student Engagement and Student Activites from Stockton, Missouri. He graduated from CMU in 2015 with a major in Biology Education.

Rebecca Garrett: Rebecca is a junior Nursing major from Mexico Missouri.

Maggie Gebhardt: Maggie is the CMU Media Content Specialist from Glasgow, Missouri. She graduated from CMU in 2012 with a major in Communications.

Cassandra Geisendorfer: Cassandra is a senior Nursing major from Shelbyville, Missouri. She is involved in Zeta Psi Lambda, Alpha Phi Omega, and Ambassadors.

Kole Hinton: Kole is a sophomore Education major from Columbia, Missouri. He is involved in Football.

Kaden Hoover: Kaden is a student from Fayette High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Brittany Lawson: Brittany is a junior Biology major from Tebbets, Missouri. She is involved in Sigma Tau Delta, Sigma Alpha Iota, Band, and Choir.

Dylan Lewis: Dylan is a sophomore English major from Kirksville, Missouri. He is involved in Baseball, Alpha Phi Gamma, Sigma Tau Delta, and Sigma Alpha Pi.

Mikaela Lewis: Mikaela is a sophomore Music major and Art minor from Harrisburg, Missouri. She is involved in Band.

Madilynn Lyons: Madilynn is a sophomore English major from New Franklin, Missouri. She is involved in Civic Engagement at Central.

Addison McGuire: Addison is a sophomore Biology major from Higbee, Missouri.

Paige Newton: Paige is a student from Smithton High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Gregory J. Owen: Gregory is the Assistant Professor of Theatre at CMU. He is also the Scenic & Lighting Designer and Technical Director for the Department of Theatre Arts.

Ronan O’Loughlin: Ronan is a junior International Business major from Glenariffe, County Antrim, Ireland. He is involved in Delta Banga Tau (Banga), photography, mountain bike, and travel.

Lyndsey Phillips: Lyndsey is a senior English and Theatre Education double major from Bloomsdale, Missouri. She is involved in Alpha Phi Omega, Sigma Tau Delta, Alpha Psi Omega, Omicron Delta Kappa, and Interactors.

Violeta Sevillano Pires: Violeta is a senior Chemistry major from Madrid, Spain. She is involved in Gamma Sigma Epsilon, American Chemical Society, Chemists Without Borders, and is the President of the International Students Organization.

Michaela Pomajzl: Michaela is a junior Marketing major from Sedalia, Missouri.

Lauren Rector: Lauren is a student from Slater High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Haley Sage: Haley is a student from Fayette High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Kiven Steitz: Kiven is a senior Criminal Justice major from McKinney, Texas. He is a Pole-Vaulter here at Central and a member of Pi Lambda Alpha, the Criminal Justice club.

Liam Tobeler: Liam is a junior Computer Science major from Boonville, Missouri. He is in involved in soccer, napping, and observing.

Jessica Maine Travlos: Jessica is a CMU Media and Content Coordinator from Ashland, Missouri. She graduated from CMU in 2014.

Natalie Van Horn: Natalie is a freshman Marine Biology major from Raymore, Missouri. She is involved in Alpha Gamma Psi, Marine Biology Club, Theater, and NAVS.

Erin Voellinger: Erin is a student from Smithton High School who participated in Young Writer’s Day.

Denise Weigand: Denise is a senior Physics major from Weatherby, Missouri. She is involved in Band, Opera, Alpha Phi Omega, Kappa Mu Epsilon, and Sigma Alpha Iota.

Charli Wood: Charli is a senior Biology major from Jefferson City, Missouri. She is involved in Alpha Phi Omega and Delta Pi Omega.