The Scrivener: 2022-2023

DearReader,

IfIcouldselectonewordtodescribethecontentsofthisyear’smagazine,it wouldbe“raw.”Eachcompositioncapturestheinteriorworldofthewriter,lacedwith theintensityofemotionandcontemplation.Thesymbolofabathroomasaspaceof vulnerabilitymanifestsitselfintwoofthesepoems,yetitalsoepitomizestheprocess ofcraftingthesepieces.Inthewallsofthepage,asinthewallsofabathroom,the writerisgiventhespacetoweep,toexpressthebizarre,toreflectonmemories,andto imbuesilencewithanecho.Throughtheirdepictionofgrief,loss,disillusionment, andhope,writersofTheScrivenerrevealtheinsidesofthe“bathroom,”yet,through sincereandintentionalwriting,ultimatelyredeemtheirdifficultexperiences.

Wewanttothankeachandeveryoneofyouskilledwriterswhosubmittedto TheScrivener.Thankyouforthehoursyouspentponderingideas,scribblingina frenzy,orsimplystaringatablankpage.Thankyouforthevulnerabilitywithwhich youarticulatedyourthoughts.Thankyouforyourdiligenceincritiquingpiecesand patienceineditingyourown.AndthankyouMr.Jensforprovidingthespaceand supporttocontinuethepublicationofTheScrivener.

Reader,asyouenterthisliteraryhaven,Ihopeyoufindhealinginthewords andleavefeelinglessalone.

–AbigailRinkenberger,onbehalfofTheEditors

THEENDOFDRYSEASON

CarinRoylance

Theendofdryseason.

Alldaylongtheashenskyabovemergesintothescorchingearth andhushedcloudsblendasasingledarkenedcanopy. Theypressthescorchedearth --heavybutdry.

Edgesandbordersblendasskytopalmtodustygroundblurlikeamirage, tropicalgloriesdistortedintheheat, andallismuffledasheavensdriftheavywiththeanticipationofrain.

Thehotdrydampnesswhispersinaudible,unfulfilledpromises. Eventhetreesareraspy. Eventhebirdssoundparchedintheirchoruses. Andstill.Allisstill. Stillwaiting, stillscorched, stillasthelittlebrownleavesthatonlyrustlereluctantly underfoot.

Theashenskydissipates

andanaridwindpicksupthefragilepaperyleaveslikewhispersinachurch.

Everythingwaitsinshriveledexpectation. Wondering... iftheskyhasforgottenhowtorain.

TRAIN

AbigailRinkenberger

Thetrainslithereddownthestreet. Itscurtains,whenclosed, Quiveredinsomberwhite, Likeclothoveracorpse.

Ihearditstreadinthenight, Thepatterofacourier. Steamfellfromitscarrier, Envelopestohumanity.

Thetrainslithereddownthestreet. Itscurtains,whenopen, Issuedapleasantglow, Likefireunderakettle.

Itriedtoboarditonce, Tohaltit, Towatchitswheelsglidetoastop, Liketheslenderlegsofamare.

Butitpassesme,likeastranger, Ourcoatsbarelybrushing, Cuttingthroughsteeltracks, Oxidizedbyfallendreams.

Iglimpseit,throughmypane: Curtainsshut,itslithersdownthestreet.

FOLDING

JadynBui

Iassumedtheroleofacreator, Surveyingthepaperinmyhand. Asurfaceblank,acountryuntouched: Suchpotentiallayinthisbarrenland!

Whatwondrousworktocreatetoday? Whatfountainsspringfromdesertground? Whenpowersofmindactthroughthehand, Theforceofcreationknowsnobound.

Manymajesticmountainsarose, Perilouspasses,viridianvales; FromaflatsheetIfoldedcreases, Eachonepartofawondroustale.

Howtoproceedonthisjourneyprofound Asmountainsmorphedintolimbsandscales?

NowtrulyIwalkedbythemapinmymind: Oneslip,andmyworkwassuretofail.

AtlastIcraftedwhatIsought Afterhoursofthoughtandattention. Awondrousdragonwithwide-spreadwings, Acreaturemadeinthreedimensions.

Alwaysperchedatopmydesk

WhetherIworkoreatorplay, Itsblazingeyesandfierymouth Inconsternationseemedtosay,

“Whatisasheetofpaperworth, Thatwithsuchcareyousculptedme?

Howmuchmoresignificant Isyourownlifeanddestiny?

“Loseorforgetme,onlythisdoIask: Don’tstowmywordsonadustyshelf! Yourpreciouslifeisasheetofpaper; Whatareyoufoldingwithyourself?”

INTEGRALS

JadynBui

Integralsneverfailtoamaze Combinedwithnumberslikeeandpi, Predictingproducts, Producingnewpatterns, Evaluatingthevolumesofrevolvedobjects.

Integralspushthelimitsofreality Asxapproachestheunimaginable, Theinvisible, Yetemergingattheend Afamiliarnumeral.

Integralsarethepinnacleofmathematics Linkingderivativesandinfinitesimals, Abstractandconcrete, Continuousanddiscrete, Finiteandinfinite.

Integralsareabridgebetweentwoworlds, Whichonlythosewhosemindsareopen Mightlearntocross.

b ∫f(x)dx a

WECATCHNOMOVEMENT

JensHieber

Wecatchnomovementwithafurlédsail, therockingskiffmakesforwardmovementbalk; tostutterout,awayfromanchoreddock andseekthewindywideandmistygale. Withonlybreadthtobreachthecordedveil thegearsofyearsareblownatbreeze’sknock; forrootedmastbutmocksthesoaringhawk sonighttimemindunshutstounspuntale. Behind,thechurningfoamofthreadedwake; above,thedappledbuildonsaxesky; below,thewaitingcurrentsriseandfall; ahead,thecurveofhoping,mergingbreak betweentheroilingsheenandazuredye— thissailunfurled,encloses,widens,all.

THEVOYAGE

JoshuaConklin

Anyfriendshipisavoyage. Whentheybegin,youareunsure

Whethertheboatwillstayafloat, Whetheritwillstandthetestoftime.

Somestayonthedock,afraidofwhatmaycome. Othersblunderintotheboat, Overturningitwiththefirstimpetuousstep. Butthosewhotaketheriskfindtheadventureworthit.

Somedaysthesailingissmoothandserene. Notastormliesinsight. Bybrightday,cloudsfloatalongintheazuresky, Thewarmsun’sraysbeamwithdelight. Bystillnight,theglimmeringstarsguideyou, Thepeaceofcontentsilencerestsonthewaters. Yoursailbillowsasthewindtenderlyblows, Gentlyyetpurposefullypushingyoualong. Withthewindatyourbackandyourhandattherudder, Alliswell.

Somedaysthecloudsobscurethesun, Offeringnosatisfaction. Thelinesfallslack,andthewinddiesdown. Inthelull,theseaworthinessofcaptainandvesselshows. Thoughsomemaystop,lostinthefogforever, ThetruepilotplungestheoarsinandkeepstheVoyagegoing.

Somedaystwoshipsmeet

Foratime. TheysharetheVoyage, Focusedonthesameheading

Beforethewindstakethemtheirseparateways.

Somedaysmiseryandgloomdarkensthesky

Thewavestossandturn, Thefoamblindsyou.

Thewindhowlsinyourears, Breakinglinesandmizzen.

Theonlyhopelieswithinyourbreast. Hopethatarockwillnotcome Toshattertheboatforever. Hopethatthestormwillcometoanend, Thatfairwindwillblow,andthesunwillshine. Hereiswhenabondistestedtoitsabsolutelimits. Whentheswellsthreatentooverturnhisboat, Loyaltyclingstothewheellikeasteadfastcaptain, Hopingtosteertosafety.

Forsome,thestormoverwhelms; Theyabandonship; Theboatsinks,andthefriendshipislost. Butforthosewhoremainaboard, Thosewhostayfaithfullyatthehelm, Theywilllivetoseetheskiesagain. Thesunwillturnitsgoldenfacetothebatteredvessel. Thewindwillblowfavorablyoncemore. Anddespiteallodds, TheVoyagecontinues.

COUNTERFEIT

JosiahBlacklock

Swish.

AlexChristiannonchalantlysmackedhisgumandslammedtheballonthe crackedcourtafewtimes.

“Wegottaremaketeams-youandMikearetoooverpowered,”thekidinthe blackteeandwhitegymshortscomplained.

ItwasacrispmorninginNevada.Humiditywasdownfromlastnight,but dewstillsoakedthecourtinpatches.Thesun’slongyellowrayscastgeometric patternsacrossthehoopsandsplashedtheplayerswithitswarmth.Wispyclouds foughttostayaliveastheworldcamealivewithlightandcolor.Theairhadalittle nip,andaslightbreezeoccasionallypickedupAlex’sbrownhairandwhippedit aroundhim.

“It’snotcool-wecan’tgetashotofforevendriveintothepaint!”

Alexgrinnedandrolledhiseyes,casuallyturningtwo-seventydegreesto facethesmallsetofweather-wornbleachers.“Nextteam.”

Ashortredheadandawell-builtkidinNikeslidesstoodupfromthe bleachersandsaunteredovertothethree-pointline,intentionallyignoringthe protestingblack-shirtedkidwiththemulletandhisquietteammate.Black-shirt frownedashisteammatepulledhimoffthecourt.

“What’supfellas?”

FearstabbedatAlex’sstomach.Heknewthevoice:JackNorton.SelfproclaimedliberatoroftheWhitneyPublicHighSchoolers’pocketchange.Abigguy withasmallbrain,madeevenworsebythefactthatAlexhadswindledhimoutofthe answerstoachemistrytest.

Alexspunslowlyaround,asmileplasteredhaphazardlyonhisface.Jack walkedrightuptoAlexuntiltheywereinchesapart.“HeyJack!How’slifetreated you?”

TheunflinchingangryfaceofJacksonstaredrightbackathim.Withdeep-set eyesthatpinchedhisnoseandfrecklesthatlookedlikespilledpepper,Jacksonwasby nomeansahandsomefellow.Butthatcouldbetheinnerjudgetalking.Jackgrunted asifhehadheardAlex’sthoughts.Thenheswunghisfist.

Alex,expectingtheblow,deftlyfeintedbacktowardsthebleachersandaway fromhisaggressor.Jack’seyebrowsnarrowedevenfurther,ifthatwaspossible.Alex droppedthebasketballandletitbounceafewtimes.

“Look,Ididn’tmeannoharm.HowwasItoknowthatthetestswere differentfromclasstoclass?Ifailedtoo,ifitmakesyoufeelanybetter!”

“Itdoesn’t,”Jackgrunted,advancinginawaythatwasprobablysupposedto bemenacingbutinsteadmadehimlooklikehislegsdidn’tbend.

“Okay,okay.Iknowyouwantafight,butlet’snotdoitrightnowwhileMr.

Schmidtiswatching.”

Jack,provinghewasasstupidashelooked,turnedaroundtoconfirmthe presenceofSchmidt.

Justlikethat,Alexwasgone.

Alex’slifehadbeenarealturnaroundstory.Infirstgrade,hehadbeenan outcastamonghispeers.Hislackofsocialskillandtendencytosaythewrongthing atthewrongtimehadearnedhimthereputationofbeingtheclassidiot.Butafew yearsandalotofobservinglater,Alexhadbeguntounderstandwhatmadehumans tick.Bymiddleschool,hehadagoodgroupoffriendsandareputationforsemifunnyjokes.Byhighschool,hehadmanagedtoestablishhimselfasacoolkid.It didn’tmeanhedidn’thavetheoccasionalencounterwithJack,butlifeingeneralwas lookingup.

Theacademicpartofschoolwasalsoabreeze,forAlexhadalwaysbeen uncannilyintelligent.Attheageofsix,hewasabletoreadAgathaChristie,andby eighthewasmentallysolvingsquareroots.Itwasn’tuntilhegotsomefriendsthathe realizedthatordinarypeopledidn’twalkaroundwithanalmostphotographicmemory andtheabilitytomultiplythree-digitnumbersinstantlyintheirheads.

Butofcourse,exposingthesetalentswouldonlyleadtomorecriticismfrom hispeers.Soinstead,hechosetoneglecthisstudiesandfocusmoreonsports.Life wasabouthavingfun.

Alexsnappedoutofhisreverie,takingaturnbystorm.Thedirtyhallway rushingbyhimrefusedtoyieldapossibleexit.Alexroundedanothercornerandwas greetedbystairsathisfeet.Alexdidn’tthinktwice.

Itwasn’tuntilhalfwayupthestairsthathefinallystartedtofeelit.Hislungs wheezedandhiscalvesburned,butheignoreditandpushedon.Uponreachingthe top,hefoundhimselfinthecold,quietatmosphereofthelibrary.

AlexskiddedaroundtheBiographysectionandtookarightattheFlash Fiction.Therehestopped.Hisbreathwasquietbutrapid,andhisthroatwasscratchy fromtheair.Hetooktimetotakeinhissurroundings.Thelibrarywasbigforapublic school,withalargecurvedroofwithconcentriccirclesandarchesextendingfromthe apex.Thecarpetwasslightlyfadedbutimmaculatelyvacuumed,withpolka-dotted beanbagsscatteredrandomlythroughouttherotunda.Thelowsoundofabackup generatorhummedharmoniouslywiththerelentlessblowingoftheoldair conditioners.

AdoorbargingopenfromthefarsideofthelibrarysnappedAlexto attention.Hewasbeingchased.Hewasn’tfreeyet.Heheldhisbreathandpeered furtivelyfrombehindtheshelf.

ThelastthingAlexChristianrememberedbeforehediedwasthewhistlingofJack’s fistonacollisioncoursewithhishead.

onepartauthoritative,onepartsoft,andonepartdangerous.

Theengineeragainvisiblygulpedandstiffened,eyesdartingaroundthecold shadowedroom.“Iknowwhoyouare.”

Thewholethingwasabitcliche,butpeopletendedtoforgetthatfactwhen theirlifewasatstake.

“Takeashot.WhoamI?”

“You’reMr.Webster.”Apause.“Seniortacticianandsupervisorofthepilot programforAI-7iandAI-8e.”

“Thatindeedismynameandtitles,butthatisn’twhoIam.”

Websterlikedtotoywithhisvictims-anothercliche.ButbeyondWebster’s clichetendencies,hereallywasserious.Andhehadtobeserious,consideringwhathe playedwith:people’sminds.

“I’msorry,sir,”theengineerstuttered. Poorfellow.Beingusedlikeapawnin agameofwitandsacrificethatwasbeyondhiscomprehension.Beingturnedonlikea tapforhisresourcefulnessandthensilencedwhenhewasnolongernecessary…

“WhatImeant,sir,isthatIhavenoanswerforyou.Icannotgiveananswer thatisworthy…”Hetrailedoff,tothequietamusementofWebster.

“Dr.Filmore,doyouknowwhyIsummonedyou?”

“Didthepilotfail?”

Smartkid. “Notexactly.ButIsuspectitwillsoon.Physicaldamagetendsto inciteunwantedaction.”

“Itsustaineddamage?”

Crazy,isn’tit? “Quitealot.Enoughtodamagesomething.Mywishisto removeitfromitstestinggroundsandbringitbacktothelabforexamination.”

“Whydoyouneedmeforthat,sir?”

“Iwastoldyouprogrammedinitafailsafeasaprecautiontothissortof event.Asaresult,youareinchargeofcapturingit peacefully andreturningitback herebytomorrowat2PMsharp.Understood?”

“Yes,sir.”

Dr.Filmorescrambledofftheredchairhehadbeensittinginandhurriedout thedoor.Webstersmiled.Thiswasgoingtobefun. ***

ThefirstthingAlexsawwhenhecametowasaholographiclogothatread “AxonTechnologies”.

Thenitwasreplacedbythefamiliardomedceilingofthelibrary.Only somethingwaswrong.

Hecouldn’tfeel.

Awaveofnauseawashedoverhim.Washeparalyzed?

Instinctively,heflexedhisfingersandtoes.Theymoved.Afeelingofrelief floodedhisbodybeforeherealizedthatalthoughhecouldmove,hecouldn’tfeelhis movements.Hetriedtostand.Success.

Itwasahalf-truth.Therealitywasthathelivedalifefullofcurveballs.Of coursehehadexpectedit.Justnotsosoon.

Theengineerhehadsummonedgulpednervously,obviouslyfrettingover whathewouldsaynext. Good.Ahealthydoseoffearisn’tabadthing.

“I’mguessingyouwanttoknowwhoIam,”hespokeagain.Hisvoicewas

Hewasuponhisfeetasquicklyasifhehadnevertakenabeating.Buthe stillcouldn’tfeel.Hecouldn’tfeelthecoldairoftheairconditioneronhisskin;he couldn’tfeelhisfeettouchingthegroundorevenhishandsbrushingagainstthe shelves.Hewasvaguelyawareofsomethingapproachinghim.Thelibrarian.How longhaditbeensincehewasout?

Thedoorcreakedopen,andAlexstumbledoutfrombehindtheshelf.Itwas notthelibrarian.Itwasamaninawhitedressshirtandablacksuit.Hiscrispblack

“I’mcomingforyou,Christian!”

“Ididn’texpectittocomethisway.”

pantsextendedallthewaytohispolishedleathershoesandbulgedattheleftpocket.

AnotherhologramappearedinAlex’svision.

“Warning,”itread.“Hostileapproaching.Evacuatenow.”

Asifoncue,thesuitedmanwhippedoutaSpringfieldArmory1911pistol andfiredthreeshotsstraightatAlex.

SomehowAlexmanagedtododgethem.Theywereaccurateshots,butAlex felthisbodymovewithouthisownwill.InthreesecondsAlexwasontopofoneof thesix-footbookshelves.

“Warning.Morehostilesinbound.”

Alexspunandracedtowardthebackendofthelibrary,runningonpure instinct.Hedovebehindthelastdeskfromthedoor.Bulletswhizzedoverhishead andshatteredtheglasswindowsbehindhim.Thedoorlaytantalizinglyclose.

“Warning.Hostileapproachingthroughexit.Alternateexitfound.”

Andthen,withoutwarning,Alex’sbodyjerkedupandtookaterrificleap towardthebrokenwindow.Anotherenemyburstthroughtheexit,butitwastoolate. Alexhadjumpedoutofthewindow.

Thegrasswaswetwithrain.Themoonshonebrightthroughthethinclouds, castingeerieshadowsaroundthetrees.Asidefromthechirpingofcricketsandthe rustlingofleaves,allwassilent.Yettheforestwasalivewithmovement.

Alexsatonawetrocknexttoatalloak.Thepowerfulscentofpetrichorand decayassaultedhissenses,theblindinglightofthemoonmakinghimblink.Herana handthroughhismattedbrownhair,notnoticinganyoftheforestbeauty.

Hisworldwasspinning.

Itwasalmosttwelvehourssincetheincident.Afterinvoluntarily defenestratinghimself,hehadfoundhimselfverymuchaliveandconvenientlynext tosomemotorcycles.Hisnewinnervoicehadpolitelyrecommendedthathestealone ofthemtoescapehispursuers,andhehadcompliedreluctantly.

Butatleasthewasfree.Fromthesuitedmenwithguns.Nothisquestions.

Whycan’tIfeelanything?Whatisthisinnervoicethattalkstome?DoI haveschizophrenia?Whowerethosemen?Whyme? WhoamI?

Thebushesrustledtothesideofhim,buthetooknonotice.Hisinnervoice wouldwarnhimifdangercame. Whowastheinnervoice?

“Iamyou.Oratleastthesystemthatanalyzesdailylifeandgivesmore thoughtandreasoningbehindyouractions.Yourinstinctsandcasualconversations canbedonewithoutanysubstantialbrainpowerandthuswithoutmyhelp,but anythingthatinvolvesmorecomplexthinkingismyjob.”

Alexgawked,thenclosedhismouth.“Whyhaven’tIheardfromyou before?”

“Iwasprogrammedtoworkinthebackgroundandletyourintuitionevolve byitself,butaphysicalinjuryallowedthissafeguardtofail.Nowyourintuitive consciousnesscantalktoyouranalyticalsystem.”

Alex’sbreathcameinshortquickgasps.Henoticedbloodontherocknextto himandscootedaway.Theninasickeningrealization,helookedathishands.Bloody.

“IfonlyIcouldfeelpain,”hemurmured,holdinghishandclose.

“Ifonly.”

Alexwhippedaround.Abulkymanwithslicked-backblondhairandblackerthan-blacksunglasseswasleaningagainstanotheroaktree,asilverpistolnestled

snuglyinhislefthand.

“Hello,Alex.”

Alexsuckedinabreath.“H-hithere.”

Themanworeasmartgraycollaredshirt,blacksportsshorts,andagolden Rolex.

“MynameisEwanWebster,”themansaidindeepbasstones.“Andyou probablyhavealotofquestions.”

Anawkwardpause.

“Come,let’ssitandchat.”

Alexslowlysatbackdownontherock.Somethingabouttheman commandedobedience.Maybeitwasthegun.

Themanlumberedoverandsatnexttohim.ItwasthenthatAlexnoticed howbigthemanwas.Almostafoottallerandagoodsixincheswider,helookedlike hecouldsnapAlexinhalf.Hispulsequickened.

“Actually,letmeansweryourquestionsforyou.ThenI’llhavesome questionsforyou.Soundgood?”

Alexdidn’trespond,choosinginsteadtokeephisbreathingundercontrol. Webstercontinued,“Asyoumightalreadyknow,youareabitdifferentthan yourpeers.Youmighthaveaninexplicableaptitudeformath,language,orcomputing. Youmightbeveryfitandcanshootbasketswithsurprisingaccuracy.Youmightcome toconclusionsthatseemstraightforwardtoyouwhilenobodyelsecan.”

Alex’sstomachchurned. Howdoesheknow?

“Here’smyfirstquestion:didyouthinkanythingofit?”

Itdidn’ttakemucheffortforAlextocroakouttheanswer.“No.”

“Soyoudismissedit.Interesting…”

Alexclearedhisthroat.“AmIintrouble?”

EwansmiledwarmlyatAlex,meltingalittleofhisfear.“Ofcourseyou’re not.It’sjustthatyouhavesomethingofminethatIwouldlikeback.”

Alexblinked,thenrealizationhithim.

“Themotorcycle?I’msosorry-it’sjustthatthere-”

“WereCIAagentshotonyourtail?”Webstersmiled.“Iunderstandthe situationperfectly.Butdon’tworry,you’resafehere.Theydon’thaveacluewhere youare.”

Alexfrowned.“You’renotangry?”

“WhywouldIbe?”Heanswered,swinginghisguncarelesslyaroundhis finger.“Itwasn’tmymotorcycle.”

Alexstartedperceptibly,thenturnedtohim.“ThenwhatdoIhavethat’s yours?”

Webstersmiledbutignoredthequestion.“Youhaveincredibletalent.Ifindit alittlesadyouchosetorejectit.”

Alexfoundthesituationslightlywrong,butthemandidhaveapoint. Millionsofpeopleworldwidedidn’thaveaccesstoeducationorevenfood.Andover incozyNevada,Alexwassquanderinghiseducationlikeitwasagiven. Icouldsave lives;Icoulddosomething!

“Anyways,Idohaveasmallmannerofbusinesstoattendto.Ihopeyouwill excuseme,”Webstersaid,standingupandbrushingasmallpieceofmossoffofhim. Alexturned,surprised.“That’sit?”

“No,Idostillneedthethingyouhaveofmine.”

“Ohyeah,what’sthat?”Alexasked,flinchingasWebstercrackedhisneck. Arustle.Alexglancedatthebushesandthendidadouble-take.Asuitedman wasstandingamongtheovergrowth,agunpointedstraightatAlex.Thenslowly,a dozensuitedmenemergedfromtheforest,allwithgunstrainedonAlex.

Alex’sknuckles,whichweregrippingtherock,turnedwhite.It’satrap.

“Ineedyourmind,”Websterreplied,andthenhesmackedAlexhardonthe head.

***

“Itwasagoodrun,”Webstercommented,sittinginablackleatherchair facingDr.Filmore.

Theywereinabright,spaciousofficethatcontrastedsharplywithWebster’s choiceofclothing.Inonecornersatawaterdispenser,unused.Blackcarpetextended fromthedoortoasmalltableandtworedchairsandthenpastittoamahoganydesk whereWebsterwassitting.

“Iagree…”Thedoctorreplied,standingfromthechairandwalkingstifflyto thewaterdispenser,hisshoesclackingloudlyonthepolishedfloor.“ButIhavemy reservationsaboutit.”

Ofcourseyoudo.

“Primarily,I’mstruckbyhowhumanlikeitseemed.How…real.”

Websterfoldedhishandsandleanedbackinhischair,staringatthe“Axon Technologies”mugthatrestedonhisdesk.“Icompletelyunderstand.Thesekindsof thingsareboundtohappenwiththesortoftechnologythatwe’redealingwith nowadays.Frankly,theevolutionsurprisesevenme.Forinstance,itseemslike yesterdaythatwewouldrunintoissueswiththewhole‘Sensation’thing.”

Thedoctorsatdownonthechairagainbutdidn’trelax.Hewasfrowning, deepinthought.

“Whatifit’ssentient?”

“It’snot.”

“Butwhatif?”

ThequestionstungWebster.Itsoundedeerilysimilartohisyoungerself, whowaseagertodosomethingintheworld.Inaway,hewasjustlikeAlex, possessingtalentbutwithoutthewonttouseitwisely.Isthisreallywhattheworld needs?

Hedismissedthethoughtasabuzzersounded.Thedoctorjumped.

Amanwithabluesuitandwhitetiewalkedin.“Thebossrequestsyour presence.”

Websterwrinkledhisnose.“Whycouldn’thejustsendanemail?”

“Itisoftheutmostimportance.”

Webstergroanedquietlyandthenstoodup.“You’redismissed,doctor.Have agoodevening.”

ThedoctordippedhisheadasWebsterwalkedoutthedoor,followingthe servant.Hetriedtoguesswhatthetalkwasabout,butallhecouldthinkaboutwasthe doctor’swords. Whatifit’ssentient?Whatifit’shuman?

TheyarrivedbeforeWebsterhadthetimetonotice.Theservantpushedopen thedoor,andWebstersteppedinside.

“Idon’thavealotoftime,”cametheboss’svoice.“Solet’sbebrief.Firstof all,congratsonthelatestmodel.Itisveryfinework.”

Websterdippedhisheadbutdidn’tsayanything. It’sallwrong.

“Secondofall,haveyoudealtwiththedoctor?”

“Islippedcyanideintothenewwaterdispenserinmyroom.Hewillno longerbeaproblem.”RegretsurgedthroughWebster. It’sallwrong.

“Good.Thenourbusinesshereisdone.Howwouldyoulikeapromotion?”

AngergnawedatWebster,thenrushedoutofhiminsweepingtorrents.“Do youhaveanyideawhatwearereallydoing?DOYOUHAVEANYIDEAWHATWE AREACHIEVING?Thisismorethanjusttech,thisislife!Thepilotdidincredible things,andnowyoudismissitasthelatestinaseriesofconstantlyimproving technology?Thisislife,thisisHUMAN!Tomakealabratoutofitwhenitobviously cognizesisaunethical,unwarranted,illegal,irresponsible-” Websterpausedwhenherealizedthatagunwasaimedathishead.

“I’msorrytoseeyougo.It’salwaysthebestofthem.”

Webstergrittedhisteethandwhispered,“Youwillregret.” Thendarkness.

GREENBATHROOMTILES

JoyceWan

cheekpressedtobathroomtiles. watchthefloormeet theplasticshowercurtain,tapdripping faraway,anunfurledpuddle bythetimeitmeetsoutstretchedarms. watchstrandsofhair curlintostories atopthegreenswirls andspeckswithintiles. watchorangeparallelograms shrink intospoolsofink,shadows draggingcuriouslythrough thegrowingpool.

watchthewaterleakfromunderthecurtain. watchtheceiling’sreflectionwarpacross. watchthecracksinthetilesandthe dirtcrustedbetween andwonderagain–getupandclean drowningthoughtsinbleachedsoap,or watch.

andletthetapdrip.

OURFRAGILESKY

KeirynSandahl

IcouldnothaveknownIlivedinacave.IthoughtIknewmyworldwell.I andmyfamilyandcousinsandneighborshadlivedinthatworldallourlives,andwe thoughttheblackvaultaboveusaSky.WeknewaboutSkies,aswellasSuns,Trees, Stars,Winds,andotherwonders,fromourbooksandourstories,deadmen’s memoriescarefullyhandled.Theworldwecouldsee,ofcourse,wasacraggy,stony wildernessdisappearingoneverysideintodenseshadows,theedgeoftheSky.When wetoldourstories,though,wealwaystoldthemsothatthewonderfulworldwasa distantpartofourown;wehadwandered–or,sometimes,wewereledorforced–fromthatlandintothisbarrenone,forsakenbytheStars,wheretheSunhadlongago forgottentorise.Ofcoursewelookedforit,East,West,North,andSouth–our compassesworkedjustfine–andsomedisappeared,butothersreturneddejected.We neverthoughttosearchabove.

Ourcitylittheknownworld,hackedbyourforefathersfromtheunfriendly stone.Wegrewcropsofmushrooms,fishingandbathinginthewarmwatersofour lake.Wemadebeauty.Wehadminesthatyieldedcolorfulgems–tunnelsandcrevices inourcliffs,theceilingsofwhichwecouldsee.Wepolishedourwallsanddusted themwithsilver,sothatthecandlesinourwindowsglimmeredalongthewallsofour neighbors,makingourstreetsdancewiththeflickersofahundredfierytongues.Our candlesweretamelights,andtheydidourbidding.

IhadacleverfriendcalledPeck;hewasveryproudofhiscatapult,whichhe hadsolderedhimselfoutofscrapsfromhisfather’sforge.Aftermonthsofworkingon it,hehadfinallyfinishedit,andso,withmyselfandoneortwoothers,hecarrieditto thesummitofacliff,overlookingourcityononesideandtheinkyexpanseofthe lakeontheother.Withourchiselsandmallets,wecarvedoutloadstotestit.The catapultflungitsrockssplendidly;wecheeredaswewatchedthemarcwithawful force,onlytoplungewithweightysplashesintothelake,sendingupplumesofspray.

Eventually,however,welostinterestinthisdisplay,andanyway,ourarms wereaching.Wefloppeddownonthestonestogether,gazingoutatthelake.The window-lightsfromthecityshoneonitssurface,reflectedbywatersmoothasglass, exceptwherelingeringripplesfromourprojectilesdisturbedit.Beyondtheglowfrom ourlights,wecouldseenothing.Perhapsthatwaswhy,flushedwiththepowerof heavingourstonestowreakhavoconthelake,oneofusmentionedtheSun. Weimagineditlyingthere,beyondtheshadows,impossiblyfarbeyond, drowsing,andwithit,allitswonderfulheatandlight.Playfully,somebodysuggested wesenditamessage.

“Betteryet,let’sprovokeit,”Iremembersaying,“Makeitgrowlandwake upandcomerushingback.”Andwelaughedatthat,becauseevenifaSunreally existed,ofcourseastoneflungfromaboy’scatapultwouldneverreachit.Butwecut

outourboulderwithspecialcare,becauseatleastthisideawasanewtakeontheold game,andwewantedtoseeonelastflight.IfweaimedtofindtheSun,wewould makeitthegreatestflightyet.

IengravedthemessagebecauseIhadtheneatestletters.Bythelightof Peck’slantern,Icarefullychippedintothesideoftheboulderatauntpiecedtogether fromeveryone’ssuggestions.I’drathernotrepeatwhatwesaid.

Thenweloadeditintothecatapult’sbasket,andallofusdrewitbackasfar asitwouldgo.Itcreaked,andPeckfaltered,worriedforhiscreation,buttherestofus urgedhimon,tooeagernowtoabandonourplan.Adeepbreath,andwereleasedit. Thearmofthecatapultsprungawayfromus,andtherockshotintotheSky,throwing thecatapultbackatuswiththeforceofitspassage.Wewhoopedandclapped.The rockhadvanished;foramoment,wehalf-believeditcouldflytothesunnysideofthe world.

Untilweheardaterriblecrack.

Theworldechoedwiththecreakandcrumbleofstone,andsomewherethe splashofoursinkingboulder.Wedidn’tunderstand,eventhen,butwefeltinstinctive fear.Andthenourfragileskycavedin.

Light.White-hot,heavy,blinding,itpouredthroughtheleakwehadpunched inoursky.Weshutoureyesbutithammeredoureyelids,piercingandstinging.I forgotmycompanions,thecatapult,thecliff…nothingseemedtoexistbutthatawful lightandthepainitinflicted.Forthefirsttimeinhundredsofyears,theSunshoneon us;wehadwantedit,butnowwehatedit,foritwasbrighter,farbrighter,thanwe wantedit.

CRYINGINTHEBATHROOM

LarissaLee

Claspingyourfacewithyourhands, Regrettingeverydecisionyouevermade. Youmightknowwhatit’slike,oryoumightnot. I’lltellyou,though,asanexpertofsorts.It’s Notapleasantexperience,that’sforsure.

“Getagrip,”theyyelloverthebuzzoftheparty.

I wouldifIcould,youknow.It’s NotlikeIwantedthistohappen.

Thespiralingisnormal,it Happensoften,infact. Escapism’sthebestsolution.

Blaringinmyheadarealltheregrets, Againandagainandagain.

Thesolitudeprovidescomfort, Harrowingisolationisdifficulttoignore. Roaringinmyearsisthenoise

Oftheforeignconceptoflaughterandcheer. Onlythefortunatewouldn’tunderstand,the Miseryofcryinginthebathroom.

THEAPPROACHMENTOFFEAR

MichaelHsu

Itisnotgoodtorunalone.

I’mscared: WhenI’mlyinginmybed, hopingspidersdon’ttouchmyhead. WhenIthinkI’mconfidentdowntown, someonewillsteponmygown. Whentheteachercallsonme andtheanswerwasn’tmeanttobe. Couldwhatisapproachingnear theideacalledfear?

Butwhatisfear? Coulditbesoscary, itcausesyoutotear?

Coulditcauseyoumisery asyouslowlyrememberthe2020year. Butwhatisitstruemeaning?

Fearisanunpleasantemotioncausedbythethreatof danger, pain, orharm. Itcouldbeyourgradesdropping oritcouldbehowyoushowyourcharm. Sometimes,fearcanbemisleading.

HowdoIdefinefear?

Itcouldbeirrationalorrational

Likemonkeysorlizards

Ormovingoutonmyown

FromMalaysiatoacrossthesea

ButasfarasIknow,fearwon’tfollowme

THEINSTRUMENTSOFTHEORCHESTRA

SophiaTeoh

Manyofyouhaveseenanorchestraplayinaconcert. Therich,harmonioussoundsemanatingfromeachmusician, Theirinstrumentssoprecious,somasterfullycrafted. Butdoyouknowwhatanorchestrareallyis?

It’salargegroupoftalentedmusiciansofdifferentinstrumentalfamilies Comingtogethertoproducemarvelous,beautifulsounds.

Firstup,wehavethestringfamily.

Fromlivelyandbrighttomellowanddeeparewhattheyare,yousee. Thehighestofthemallistheviolin, Itssoaring,dulcet,brillianttonepiercingthesouldeepin, Followedbythematureviola–oh,howitsings!

Forpeacefulmusicwithasenseoflongingiswhatitbrings. Andwhilethecellocriesandcoaxes,withitsresonant,voice-likesong, Thedeep,grumblingdoublebassshallthunderalldaylong.

Now,wewon’tforgettheseguys’cousin-thetall,goldenharp, Whoseforty-sevenstringsplayoutnotessweetbutsharp.

Slender,quicksilver-thosemustbethewoodwinds!

First,thenimblefluteandpiccolo,siblings-butnottwins. Next,theoboe,blackandsmooth,hasareedy,poignantsound, Andtheclarinetplaysthingsfromcheerfultosad,fluidandround. Thelowbassoonjokesandpokes,yetgivesawoodwindfoundation, Butthecontrabassoon,oftenunheard,speaksinslightvexation.

Oh,howshining,beautiful,andboldtheyare!

Fornow,we’vecometothebrass,whosparklelikestars. Whilethetrumpet’striumphantfanfaresevokethecallsofwar, Thehornhasbroodingandwarm,orbrazenandbrighttunesinstore. Thirdisthetrombone,whoisknownforthosesignatureslides, Andthetuba,lowandrumbling,isfoundfunnybykidsworldwide.

Lastisthegroupthatiscalledpercussion, Whichsomedon’tplayoftenbutwhentheydo,it’ssudden. Now,therearetoomanyofthemtobefullylisted. Hereisabrieflistifanyoneisinterested. Thosetwocymbalsaresofamousforshockingtheear, Andthebassdrumwhoseboomsareoh,soclear.

Themetallicglockenspielwhospeaksachromaticrange, Contrastswithwindchimes,whobringcalmringingtothestage. Forallmathlovers,thesimpletrianglelikestosayting! Whilethetimpanibangandcrash–theyaresuchfunnythings. Thetambourineshakesandjingles,puttingonafaceasmile, Aswellastheclappers,whomakemanylaughforquiteawhile.

Eachinstrumentisdifferentfromtherest,butweallshouldknow, Thatwithoutoneofthem,theorchestra’sfulltalentwon’tshow. But,withsomanymusicians,howdotheyallplaytogethersowell? Thatisthankstotheconductor–sotalented,soswell.

Fromclassicstringstoagilewoodwinds,toradiantbrassanddiversepercussion, Anorchestraissuchawonder–it’sagorgeous,uniquefusion. Thanks,myfriends!Ihopeyouenjoyedthisamazingjourneytoday, Andtillnexttime,inanorchestra,togetherweshallplay.

HOOVES

EvanJuday

Snowfellsteadilyfromthecloudysky.Itlookedlikepowderedsugaror dandruffbeingshakenoffachild'shead,twistingandglidingatthewillofthewind, fallingwhereveritchose.ItcoveredasmalltowninMaineonChristmasEveas sleighbellsjingledoverhead,signalingthearrivalofSantaClaus.Thereindeer gallopedswiftlythroughtheskyashisjoyouslaughterburstmerrilyfromhismaw, butnoonehearditssound,forallwereasleepwhenhearrived.

Santalookeddownatallthehousesbelow.Theywereallburningwiththe glowofthebrightlightstheyweredressedin,allablazeastheoldsaintarrived. Quickly,hepulledhislistfromhiscoat.Hiseyesshoneashescannedtherowsof children'snames,almostallofwhichwouldbereceivingagiftfromhim.Hewould beparticularlybusyinthistown.Italwaysmadehimsoexuberanttoseesomany namesmarkedniceonhislist.Hiseyesrestedatthetopofthelist.LittleArthurof5 DewyLanewouldbethefirsttoreceivetheprivilegeofhisvisit.

Leaningbackinhissleigh,Santathoughtofallthejoythatwouldcomefrom histrip.Whatalifehelived,workinghardallyeartobringjoytotheentireworld.He couldhearthechildren'slaughterandseetheirfaceslightupwhentheywokeupto findtheirgifts.Itwassobeautiful.Thethoughtwarmedhissoul,anditburnedlikea torchwithinhim.Hecouldn'timagineabetterlife.Pullinghispocketwatchoutfrom withinhiscoat,hecheckedthetime.Itreadtenpasteleven.

"Ourtimeisrunningdry,"hecriedtothereindeer."Come,descendwithgreat speedmyfriends!"Thereindeerobeyedhiscommandandthesleighdroppedlower andloweruntilitcametorestontheroofofthefirstblessedhome.Hummingto himself,hedismountedfromhischariotwithhistoy-filledsackmountedonhisback andapproachedthechimney,hisbootsthumpingsoftlyonthetwinkling,lightcovered roof.Naughtbutamomentlater,hewasdownthechimneyandinArthur'shouse.

TheSainttookadeepbreathandhadtoallowhiseyestoadjusttohis surroundings,astheroomwasdark.Itwasodd;mostfamilieskepttheirlightson throughoutthenightonthispreciouseve.Still,eveninthedark,thelivingroomwasa merrysight.Intheright-handcornerfarthestfromhim,atwoseatercouchstoodwith itsbackagainstthewallaccompaniedbyaneasychairbesideitwithacrumpled newspaperlayingontopofit.Theroomwasdecoratedfortheseason;garlandsnaked itswayaroundthetopsofthewallsandstockings,waitingpatientlytobefilledwith presents,linedthemantelpieceonwhichpicturesofthehappyfamilystood,anda wreathhungabovethearchwayoppositethefirewhichseparatedthelivingroom fromthemainhall.Mostimpressivewasthetreeerectedinthefarleftcorner,nextto thewindowrevealingthepalesnowyworldoutside.Itwassmallerandthinnerthan most,butitwaitedpatientlyallthesame,withpresentstobestackedbeneathit,for themornonwhichitwouldbethecenterofattention.Unlitlightswerestrungaround

thetreewhileplainbaublescoloredgreenandredhungfromthebranches.Evenin thedarkness,andwithoutitscrown,thetreelookedlikeapieceoffinearttoSanta.

KrisCringlesighedwithhappinessandloweredhissackfromhisback.He strodeovertotheChristmastreeandopenedhissack.Hereachedintothebagand fishedaroundforArthur’spresent,unsurewhatexactlyhewaslookingfor.Hehad completelyforgottenwhathehadaskedforthisyear.Ashesearched,aclatterroseto hisears.Itwasthesoundofhooveswalkingonwood.Hestoppedhiswork.Sucha soundwouldnothavebotheredhimnormally;hissteedsdidgetimpatientifhe dawdled,butthisnoisecamenotfromtheroof,butfrominsidethehome,fromdown thehall,accompaniedbytheclankingofchains.Hequicklyturnedtofacethe archway.Whateverwasmakingthesound,itwouldberevealedtohimsoon.Itwas comingcloser.Fromaroundthecornerofthearchway,apairofhoovesemerged.

Thoughithadhooves,thefigurethatfacedhimstooduprightataboutthe sameheightasSantahimself.Chainscoveredthething.Theywrappedaroundits arms,waist,andneck.Theywereobviouslyheavy,fortheirweightbentthething's backforward.ItwascoveredinrobesthatwerecopiesoftheonesSantawaswearing, excepttheyweremuchlarger.Theyhunglooselyarounditandhidmostofits features,includingitsface,whichwascensoredbyalargehooddrapedoveritshead fromwhichapairofmassivecurledblackhornserupted

"Krampus,"hegrumbled,addressingthethingthatfacedhim."Whyareyou here?"

"IthoughtIheardsleighbellsoutside,"Krampusgurgled.Itsvoicewaslow andhadasicklysoundtoit,asifitwasrecoveringfromabadthroatinfection."I'm hereforaboy….”

"Arthurhasbeenverygoodthisyear!"

"Nothim.Hisolderbrother,Ralph.I'mtakinghim."

"You'llbetakingnoonefromthishousetonightaslongasIamaliveto preventit,"Santasaidcoldly."Leavethishouse,youfoulbeast.Donotinsultmewith yourpresenceagaintonight.ThatisallIhavetosaytoyou."Withthat,heturnedhis backtoitandopenedhissack.

"Saint,Iamtiredofyourtreatment."AngersparkedwithinSanta,andhe whirledaroundtofacethebeastandpunishit.Howdareittalkbacktohim."Yeah, yeah,banishme,removemefromyoursight.Keeplivingtheliethatyouareany betterthanme."

Santascoffed."HowcanyouclaimIamevencomparabletothelikesofyou? Ibringhappinesstoallhomesgracedbymyvisits.LittleArthurwillwakeup tomorrowmorningtofindagiftinhisstockingthatwillfillhimwiththespecialkind ofjoyonlyIcangive.Onthisnight,Iwillgivemillionsofothergoodlittlechildren thesamekindofjoy.Iamtheveryembodimentofit.Whatdoyoubringtothehomes youvisittonight?Onlymiseryandpain."

Thecreaturechuckled."Ibringmiseryandpaintothosewhodeserveit. Therearetwochildrenthatdwellwithinthishome,andyetyoubringagiftforonly one.YouhaveseenhowRalphhastreatedothers,howherevelsintheirsuffering. You'veseenhimbullypreciousAurthur,gangupwithhisfriendsonclassmatesat school,anddisrespecthisseniors.YoutalkofthemiseryIbring.Whataboutthis child?Doyouknowhowmanyindividualshehasharmed?Hemustbedealtwith."

"Andyouthinkitisyourresponsibilitytodealwithhim?Itishisparent's responsibility,notyours.Youjustwanttowatchhimsufferinyourworkshopand

revelinthesuffering."

Krampushissedangrilyatthis,itsforkedtongueescapingfromitsmouthas itdid.Itshiftedhisrobes,rattlingthechainshecarried,andpawedthewoodenfloor withitshooves.Itpleasedthesainttoseethecreaturesoagitated."Hisparentsdo nothing.Theychosetoignoretheirson'swickednessratherthanfaceit.Their ignorancefuelshissins.Imustputastoptoit."

"Whoareyoutodecidethefatesofmisbehavingchildren,tosnufftheir flames?Hewillfacetheconsequencesofhisactions.Youdonotgettodecidewhat thoseconsequencesare!"

Fromwithinthefoldsofhiscloak,theshadowoffistsclenchingcaught Santa’seye."Andhowmanywillheharmbeforethathappens,”snarledthebeast. "Hisevilwillonlystrengthenwithtime.Abuse,rape,robbery,murder.Iseeitallin hisfuture.Iseehimrottingawayinprisonforlife,andendingithimself,brimming withspiteandhatefortheworld.Myactionstonightwillsaveothersfromhimand himfromhimself."

Santawassilent.Krampuscontinued."Doyoureallythinkalumpofcoal willchangethisboy'sfate,makehimseetheerrorofhisways?Youhavesomuch powerthatyousayyouuseforgood,andyetyoufailtouprootevil.ThatiswhyI exist,todowhatyoucannot.Toremovethecausesofmiserysoyoumayfilltheir emptyspaceswithyourjoy."

"Joydoesnotneedanemptyspacetofill,"saidSanta."Itcanoverflowand washovermisery,cleanseit."

"Miserycandothesametojoy,"growledKrampus.

"Youcannotseeawayforthisboytochange?Thereisalwaysachance, Krampus.ItisthegiftIgivetoallthewickedchildren."

"Notthisone.Hiswickednessistoogreat."

"Couldn'tyoujustleavehimwithyourchains?"

"Somechildrenaretoostrongforthechains.Thereisonlyonewaytodeal withhim."

"Thatiswhatmakesyousounbearable!Youaresoconsumedbytheir darknessyoufailtoseethelightthatglowsfromjustbeyond!"Santasigheddeeply. "Leave,Krampus.Iwillnotaskyouagain.”

Krampusgrowledfuriouslybutbeganmovingtowardsthefire,hishooves thumpingagainstthehardwoodfloor.HepushedpastSantaashepassed. "Justrememberthis,youfatslob.ThoughmychainsweighheavyonthechildrenI laythemupon,Iweartheheaviestchainofall."Withthat,hesteppedintothe fireplaceandwasimmediatelyengulfedinflames.Amomentlater,thefirevanished alongwithKrampus.

Withhimgone,theoldsaintwentbacktohiswork.Hereachedbackintohis sackand,afterafewmoments,foundwhathewaslookingfor.Hepulledoutasmall redboxwithagreenbowontop.HerememberedwhatArthurhadaskedforthisyear. Anactionfigureofhisfavoritesuperhero,TheIncredibleHulk.Afaintsmiledimlylit hisfaceashefacedasheputtheboxinAurthur’sstockingbutitquicklyvanishedas heturnedtotheonethathungbesideit.Hegrabbedalumpofcoalfromhissackand hesitatedforonlyamomentbeforehedroppeditintoRalph'sstocking.Heknewthat thereweremorepresentstodeliver,morehappinesstospread,buthehaltedinfrontof theboy'sstocking.Afteraminute,heturnedawayandmarchedtothefireplacewith hisbagdraggingbehindhim.Asheclimbedintoit,heturnedaroundtogetonelast

sweepoftheroom.HewishedtheChristmastreewaslit,theroomwould looksomuchwarmer.Hewishedwithallhishearthecoulddoithimself,however nothingcouldrevealhimbutthegiftsheleft.Withatouchofhisnose,heshotupthe chimneyandoutthetop.

Withhisworkdone,SantaClausclimbedbackintohissleighwhilethe reindeersnortedimpatiently.Theeventswithinthishomehadputhimbehind schedule.Hecouldnotdally.Hecrackedthereins,andthereindeeratitsheadbegan topullthesleighofftotheirnextdestination.Asthesleighbegantoaccelerateoffof thehome,Santathoughthecouldhearthesoundofhoovesmovingacrosswood comingfrominsidethehouse.Hedidn'tgobacktoconfirmhissuspicion.Hemust havebeenhearingthings.

IONCEKNEWAGIRL

FinleyWhite

Ionceknewagirl

Withsoftbrownhair

Andeyeslikecrescentmoons

Andadimplelikeashootingstar

Andoh,shecouldhavegonesofar.

Ionceknewagirl

Whosefriendssaidshewaspretty

Complimentedherstyle

Calledhermannerismscute

Butreallytheywereinsecuritiesshetriedtoboot.

Ionceknewagirl

Whoseparentsthoughtshewassmart

Whogotgoodgrades

Andhadbooksonhershelf

Butthisgirl,shecutherself.

Ionceknewagirl

Whosmiledalot

Andpretendedtobehappy

Incasetheythoughtshewasbad

Shedidn’tunderstandthatit’snotbadtobesad.

Ionceknewagirl

Whowastoldshewasworthless

Andfatanduglyandfrustrating

Shewastoldshewasselfish,entitled,andspoiled

Soshetriedtobeselfless,andoh,howshetoiled

Ionceknewagirl

Whosemaingoalwastobekind

Whotriedandtriedandtried

Toothers’struggles,shewasnevermindless

Butshetendedtoforgetthatshe,too,deservedkindness.

Ionceknewagirl, Andthatgirl wasme.

PAROXYSMALANXIETY

FinleyWhite

Setthebagdownheadthumping. Feelasifabouttodrownthroatlumping.

Curlintofetalposition, hopingtobreathe

Squeezearmsinrepetition, auselessgroundingtechnique

clawatskinandhairindesperation, usingpaintocombatnumbness trytosteadyrespiration, butthinkonlyofapparentdumbness

cry,breathe sob,heave bawl,wheeze

feelthethoughtsspiral nothingandeverything ihateyouihatethemihateme feelasifthehateformeisviral hearnothingbutmyears’ring ihateyouihatethemihateme

Pickupthebag, handtrembling

Lookinthemirroratahag, feelingaforcedreassembling

Wipeawaythetearstellmyselfthatthisisnotmyplace. Wipethebloodfrommyscratchesandleavewithasmileonmyface.

Aprofessionalconsortofconcealing

Knowingthey’djustbelittlethefeeling

I’mfineisnotthathardtodeny

Thetruthcomesoutaseasyasalie

Pastthepointofdemandingcommotions

Isthiswhatit’sliketobelostinoceans

Wakinguptostrugglethroughthemotions

Losingmygriponpastdevotions

Sickandtiredofhavingtocomply

Notcaringenoughtofakeareply

I’msorryyou’rebotheredI’mnotjumpingandsquealing

I’msorryyoufindquietsufferingsounappealing

Ididn’trealizenotbeinghappywasacrimeworsethanstealing

ByallmeansinformmehowIshouldbedealing

NowIunderstandwhatPoewantedtoimply

Ceasingtoquestionwhenmypeersgogethigh

Havingnocontroloverthoughtsornotions

Wishingtherereallywashealinginpotions

Gettingtoogoodatnumbingoutemotions

AtthispointIcouldignoreexplosions

Longsinceavoidinganyholyally Nolongerwantingtoknowwhy

Theywon’tshutupabouthowarticulatingishealing

Butevenwritingprivatepoetryfeelstoorevealing

IDON’TLIKETOREMEMBER

Irememberbeingsix

Andgettingcallsonthestreet

Shrinkingfromtheireyesinmycarseat

Irememberbeingseven

Andhavingmyseniorslookundermyskirt

Steponetohatingschool

Irememberbeingeight

Andhavingolderboysnotletmeleave Bikesblockingmywayhome

Irememberbeingten

Andhavinglovelynamesbombardme

Howkindofthemtokeepmehumble

Irememberbeingeleven

Andusingmyfists

Icouldn'tunderstandbutitwasn’tright

Irememberbeingtwelve

Andseeingsexassociatedwithmyskin

Learningtoexpecttheworstfromboysandmen

Irememberbeingfifteen

Andnoteating Hungercouldn'tconvincemythroattoswallow

Irememberbeingsixteen

Andhavingaguardwithwanderinghands

Monthsaftertheupperclassmancouldn’thearno

NowI’mseventeen

Andmemoriesinvademydreams

WhyamIstillfightingtheunseen

CREDITS

Editors

JoshuaConklin

SophiaTeoh

JadynBui

AnyaShanmugabalan

SamanthaOwen

MyraLim

KeirynSandahl

JoyceWan

JensHieber

FinleyWhite

EvanJuday

LarissaLee

CoverArt

DoraLiu

“Petpeeves–everydayfrustrationsandannoyancesthatweallexperience–arerarely representedinartwork.‘StickyBusiness’aimstoevokethefeelingofannoyanceand disgustthatcomesfromdroppingaforkoraspoonintoasaucydish.Thepiecehopes tobuildaconnectionwiththeviewerthroughthiscommongrievancewhileallowing theviewertoreflectontheirownpetpeevesandtheemotionstheyevoke.”

ChiefEditor

AbigailRinkenberger

LayoutEditor

JoyceWan