DELTA 2021 by Delbarton School

2021

DELTA SPRING 2021

EDITORIAL STAFF: lemachi enweremadu ’21 will ritter ‘22 sahej sandhu ‘22 nolan lee ’23

FACULTY MODERATOR: mrs. angela brown

CDC GUIDELINES declan maseker

EDITOR’S LETTER Despite a year marked by masks and social distancing, the human spirit has never been more unbreakable. In the face of so much adversity, we have come together as a global community and within our collective solitude cultivated beautiful blossoms of creativity. Throughout this academic year, our editorial team has personally witnessed the Delbarton community embrace this new found inspiration in a multitude of ways. From ventures in poetry poe to beautiful compositions worthy of critical acclaim, art has truly been an integral part of Delbarton’s COVID-19 experience. That’s why when our staff sat down to begin to plan for this year’s magazine, we chose COVID as our theme. For this year’s design, we were largely inspired by our experiences of rediscovering the internet and technology as a whole. From the start of the global pandemic, computers quickly came to serve as the bridge that connected us all during a time of loneliness, and we felt it important impo to pay credence to that fact. Additionally, both the fonts and the bright, eye-catching colors we chose for this year’s layout were greatly influenced by the retro patterns seen throughout the mid-1980s and into the early 2000s -- an era in which the internet was discovered, creating a direct parallel to our rediscovery of and reliance on the internet in the modern age. In addition, our staff felt strongly influenced by the nostalgia of times not lived. Our conceptions and longing to return to past t imes has never been more salient. This year’s computer-centric theme also contrasts the human nature of art -- a purely human experience, yet one we often struggled to find within our computer screens during lockdown. We hope that this contrast showcases that true art is found within our differences and that when we come together through art -- as artists -- we ultimately come together as a community. Art knows no partitions. Art knows no boundaries. Art is spread by the people. Thank you for being a proponent of our community’s creative work. peopl -- 2021 Delta Editorial Staff

MENU POETRY

POEM FOR LAUREN......................................ryan smith ‘21........................3 THE LAST SONG OF A SIREN......................sahej sandhu ‘22....................5 THE IMPLODED STAR...................................joey davi ‘23..........................7 ATOMIC NUMERALS.....................................marco maselli ‘23..................9 BLACK HOLES...............................................john paul smart ‘23..............11 HAIKU OF MELTING ME WATER........................simon ruiz ‘23.......................12 THE UNKNOWN..............................................luke benitez ‘23....................13 NIGHTTIME TRABADOUR................................sahej sandhu ‘22................15 THE PALINDROMIC BLACK HOLE.................joshwin jennings ‘23...........17 THE FALL......................................................nolan lee ‘23..........................20 SHORE.............................................................jack tonzola ‘25....................24 ONCE A BRIGHT STAR..................................owen kenny ‘23.....................25 WHO WOULD’VE KNOWN..............................paul brady b ‘23........................26 PEBBLE POEM..............................................jack tonzola ‘25.....................27 IS A LUMBERJACK A SCIENTIST?..............davis perry ‘23.....................28 A LIFE LIVED BLACK....................................lemachi enweremadu ‘21....30 REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE FEATURING JAMES DEAN..ryan smith ‘21......................34 I’M STILL HERE..............................................nathan lee ‘23......................35 EGO DEATH.....................................................sahej sandhu ‘22.................37 SIGNIFICANT....................................................zach cirillo ‘23.....................39 SIGNIFICAN PHYSICAL CHANGES......................................brendan gay ‘23...................40 THE SEA..........................................................hayden erikson ‘22..............41 CHANGES.........................................................john hager ‘23......................45 THE HANGING WITCH.....................................nolan lee ‘23.........................47 COVID 19.........................................................wesley gabriel ‘26...............50 A FALLEN STAR.............................................nigel mcsween ‘23...............51 ATOMIC MASS.................................................nicholas modugno ‘23.........52

PROSE

HOW COULD WE NOT HAVE SEEN THIS COMING?.........neil

van kirk ‘26...................56 LOST IN THE MOONLIGHT.............................connor teehan ‘21................58

III

CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC: THE GLASS HALF FULL.....joe

azzinaro ‘22...................65 THE BRINGER...................................,..............ethan barrows ‘21................68 THE BEGINNING OF COVID-19.......................finn loughery ‘26..................80 SONDER............................................................jack reale ‘22.......................86 CANDY BOWL RECIPE....................................ryan smith ‘21......................90

ART

CDC GUIDELINES............................................declan maseker ‘21................I COMPLICATIONS............................................will ritter ‘22...........................4 HAND OVER WATER.......................................anthony loia ‘22......................6 FALLING FLOWERS.......................................connor cirrotti ‘21..................8 GLIMMER OF HOPE........................................robbie maffucci ‘22..............10 GLASSES WITH WATER................................alex van den hende ‘21........14 A LIGHT WITHIN THE DARKNESS.................carlos pelayo ‘22..................16 PREOCCUPIED................................................dean sharif ‘22......................18 PREOCCUPIED................................................d BOY IN STREET...............................................tony fajardo ‘21....................19 LUCIDITY..........................................................owen davis ‘22....................22 MELT................................................................owen davis ‘22....................23 UNBREAKABLE..............................................andrew rasmussen ‘21........29 DESOLATE WALKWAY...................................robbie maffucci ‘22.............33 AN ORGANIZED MESS....................................dean sharif ‘21.....................36 WINTERY FRAMEWORK..................................jack tobin ‘22......................46 MASK DOESN’T STOP THE MIND..................jalen pierre ‘23...................49 MASK ON..........................................................jack winant ‘21...................55 GLASS.............................................................alex van den hende ‘21.......61 GIVE PEACE A TRY.........................................ryan smith ‘21......................64 BOY UNDER BRIDGE.......................................tony fajardo ‘21....................67 A LIGHT...........................................................aidan nevistich ‘22..............72 WATER FLOW................................................alex FLO van den hende ‘21........79 THE NEW NORMAL........................................luke mcchesney ‘22.............84 A FLOWER......................................................jack reale ‘22........................85 GALAXY FISHING..........................................connor cirrotti ‘21.................88 FAN.................................................................ethan low ‘21.........................89

PPPPPP OOOOOO EEEEEE TTTTTT RRRRRR YYYYYY

"Hope" is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without words And never stops - at all -

Emily Dickinson

POEM FOR LAUREN ryan smith

New York City, New York, 2021 “Sometimes I am afraid of ruining what I have. Sometimes I am lazy, I don’t finish it or I don’t push it far enough. Sometimes I think it’s a painting.” Joan Mitchell Meets me at afternoon’s breath, For an instant, anticipating the weave In and out, through the hum of yellow cabs Your smooth voice imitates honeyed rolls and Delicacies decorated with the shadows of pearly Glimmers of space stars in syrupy constellation, like Traffic lights which waft wispy smells through avenues, Past walls of wheaten texture, milky consistency, watered By hushed showers, sprouted suckled sunflower seeds from Summer, sunk in callow crevices crinkled by acerbic icebox Summe Afternoons, where slimy pits of cherries chafe cardboard covered Shells. When my eyes close or stare off into space, speaking with a Mouth, full of cherries, counting -- one, two, three -- in the warmth of Gentleman skipping is tailored suits, cologne fuming from lapels emulating Their scent of summer and eyes of fustian, trill the din or drills digging deep Into the earth's inked skin. When my eyes close and swirls of iridescent darkness Swarm the thought of death, sprouting from winter beaten sidewalks, and heels clip Clopping down fifth avenue at five o’clock, your sneakers studded with the stars’ syrupy Constellation, and whenever we indulge in the decadence of fresh baked rolls and clumpy Chocolate drinks where our reflections meld with its surface luster, I smile. I laugh through the Cover. When I hug you goodbye, my arms reach around and close the space I normally leave, to Keep people from feeling into me too much, but you are close: I smell your chocolatey breath, its creamy aroma.

COMPLICATIONS will ritter

THE LAST SONG OF A SIREN sahej sandhu

I used to belong to the sea, waters enveloped me, but brought me close to your ear. You can hear the tide singing so softly, and soon you’ll know, kno I’ve become nothing but a shell.

HAND OVER WATER anthony loia

THE IMPLODED STAR joey davi

A Black Hole Gravity so strong no light can escape A physical pit of despair A true nothing A Black Hole acts as a permanent reminder Of a star Who had exhausted all it’s vibrant, vib luminous, fumes Collapsing upon itself What frightens me most about the Black Hole Is not the entity itself But the wave of destruction it brings with it It stretches and pulls violently Showing it’s true colors It refuses to display on the outside Described as a great void It holds true to its name Presents fiercely on the outside But is empty within An ominous trap Luring in it’s prey A comfortable comfo nothingness Existence without end

FALLING FLOWERS connor cirrotti

GLIMMER OF HOPE robbie maffucci

BLACK HOLES john paul smart

An unknown phenomenon the holes in space unknown to all complete darkness befalls no light can be seen throughout where space and time can move about Even in the Milky Way there is a little hole called Sagittarius A If Sagittarius Sagi A is in the Milky Way how many could be out there today? Holes in space and time allay through Black Holes portrayed in a destructive way Did you know they create galaxies far far away? What will happen if we soar into the Hole and the result is unknown to all? Will other life be through the hole of darkness? Or will those who enter never return from the darkness? There is so much to discover about Black Holes After all: They’re a phenomenon unknown to all.

HAIKU OF MELTING WATER simon ruiz

Ice melts in the sun The molecules expand Turns into liquid

THE UNKNOWN luke benitez

As I look up at the sky A flow of questions come to mind What's out there that we Can’t see with our naked eye? Are there aliens patrolling space With massive spaceships And weapons w not known to humans-Or are there stars and endless galaxies that go on forever ? And ever? And ever? These things are hard to imagine. As I sit here And wonder about all the unknowns There's one thing that does not make sense at all: Black Holes. These black holes will absorb You in an instant They open their mouths Ready to take any light In the distance Allowing nothing to escape It's the one and only Black Hole. Space seems like a scary place But the thing that scares me the most is the Black Hole

GLASSES WITH WATER Alex Van Den Hende

NIGHTTIME TROUBADOUR sahej sandhu

I lay here, wrapped in your soft warm comfort the heat fills me, creeping into my pores, it sequesters my hermit-style existence hidden from the lunatic’s tempered, I am delivered, day after day, wrapped in his shielding embrace, his intimate in touch, it’s not of this world an effervescent, ephemeral existence our love is fleeting. he quickly overwhelms, possess with magical sensitivity, he engulfs me in his halo, I kiss a troubadour goodbye, as I board my ship. who would have known? I’m fast asleep now, no steeped in the solace of slumber slowly, softly, I transcend projecting my being into fantastical realities enchanted by spells, I’m taken over. constructions of universes, entities unknown they fly past my eyes, giving me regards from my love’s utopia. when i wake up, i will forget about you so let us enjoy while we’re young.

A LIGHT WITHIN THE DARKNESS carlos pelayo

THE PALINDROMIC BLACK HOLE joshwin jennings

The truth, the genuineness, the sincerity That is reality All I really want, is a hug, an embracement But I can’t let my true emotions out I am kind, loving, compassionate You are my everything I love to spend time with you You are my family But the myth is that... I am fierce, a king who rules all hell I have no heart, nor soul, nor compassion My deepest desire is your death, among all The Devil’s Twin An Evil Genius is who I am A stream of darkness, a touch of immediate death That’s not the real me Objection! I am the Black Hole

PREOCCUPIED dean sharif

BOY IN STREET tony fajardo

THE FALL nolan lee

LUCIDITY owen davis

MELT

owen davis

SHORE

jack tonzola

You feel your ears pop from the collision of waves. You smell that salty soak of a cold breeze. You hear the gulls laughing over the sea. You are irritated by the sun shouting at you! It may seem unpleasant. But you remember all the memories memo it has provided. It is a place, not any place. One that holds a portal to the outside world. It is morning. You are awakened by the sound of a crew ship. As unnecessary as it sounds you smile. smil

ONCE A BRIGHT STAR owen kenny

There are many black holes in space and they all have a very strong gravitational pull. Some black holes are formed when a star collapses and this creates a supernova. Larger black holes are thought to have been created when the universe was created. Black holes are black because the escape velocity of them is faster than the speed of light so if light doesn't reflect off of them then they simply turn black. Black Holes Where gravity is too strong for light to escape Big or small they hold the same strength With no light visible to the human eye If you’re close enough be prepared to die Once a bright and shining star Now a black gravitational pull The event horizon ho will leave all doomed Not even light itself can escape its wrath The biggest composed of over a million suns Four million times the mass of our sun alone Some the size of a singular atom Possessing the strength of a large mountain Whether they are big or small All are doomed if they ever come close enough to see the elusive black hole. hol

PEBBLE POEM I’m not talking about any leaf, but the one I’m holding.

jack tonzola

It could be dead, maybe it is. But it isn’t as decomposed as it is. It has a purpose. An important purpose. One that is meant m to be underestimated. It is useless, expendable, any other leaf. That isn’t an insult to the leaf. It is a compliment. An accomplishment. A heroic phrase. When I throw it, it lands wherever It chooses,at first wherever it is chosen. It isn’t small. It is large. Larger than me. Large enough to be stepped on. To be ignored. But it wants to be ignored. It doesn’t want to be a distraction for my own good and it’s own good. When I rip it, it only causes pain to the dead. While I rip it, I miss out on the matter at hand. No one wins. So when I see this leaf, I leave it be, I don’t touch it. Its look says it all. That is how large it is.

IS A LUMBERJACK A SCIENTIST? davis perry

The day was cold and the ground covered with snow. No better time to venture into the woods with axe in hand. My goal was to chop diseased trees to help the forest grow But I realized I was actually helping my chemistry mind expand A physical change I was making to this old dying tree The firewood is used to heat, to cook food and to bask Which an exothermic exothe reaction one not only fells, but can certainly see Amazing how we overlook the wonder of science in a basic task Preparing for smores and looking around the blaze I have set Endothermic reactions and chemical changes are abound Watching the snow fade from pit and turn the ground wet I am witnessing both physical and chemical reactions in my surroundings I went into the woods to simply remove the trees that were dead And walked away a scientist.

UNBREAKABLE andrew rasmussen

A LIFE LIVED BLACK lemachi enweremadu constant fear tinted windows palms vibrating with tremors asked to step out a tacit paralysis consumes glued to your hands resides the wheel glued to your hands resides your last goodbye as soon as you let go the timer begins 15 minutes away a from the smell of the cup foods market at east 38th and chicago ave a God willing 84 becomes 46 76 becomes 25 95 becomes 17 but i am only 17 a black 17 a disvalued 17 deprived of innocence deprived of worth

DESOLATE WALKWAY robbie maffucci

REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE FEATURING JAMES DEAN ryan smith

Lying on the ground, guarded by glare of street lights ; Icebox air: rising, surrendered to two arms tearing A child from the ground, by the taut strings of his jacket, Which punctuates a pallid pane of milky white skin Writhing as the ground grips his feet, fumbled into a black car. Wailing, washed full of happiness: trembling beneath lurid light ; Commanding: compliance and control, con like men bent over red Wine, strength poured into the sinew beneath their wife’s blistering skin , Suffocated beneath taut folds of lavish fur garments which tore Away their bodies -- quills scratching shadows against the car . Overlook -- tiled roofs slap fiercely against the sun’s light ; In the distance, waves tear apart the coast, which flirts with Skin sweltering in the sun’s blaze, bubbling heat, sweat swimming in eyes; Soul may go mad in blindness, wind’s echo wisps the car off -Into an abyss of darkness, leaping with the red inferno of death. Her red lipstick contrasted against her convey of bemused shock, On a moonlight cliff -- she surrenders her hand, pried from her skin , As the moment tears her from an age where nothing fits, and each dream She articulated alone, now awakens to the timeless, incessant white light Of the morning, burning away the flakey black scales of an aging car . His opulent, olive skin dulled by nauseating naus numbers, lettering his name, reminding Him of his morality; the silver light and its sonorous resonance slices skin, rocking Him into the cradle of a red jacket’s warmth, its cogent response to the night’s Hymn of mystery, its restless shimmer stunting the memory, cast in ebullient clarity, torn From the fortitude of his dreams, hoisted by hips into a car : red paint, marked by flashing lights . As the light sweeps away a night’s dream, rivers of flowing grief and shrill Screams begin to greet the morning’s traffic, cars humming along and Shifting lanes behind rear-end red lights ; he peels away his focus, no longer able to Shif Squander the warm, genuine press of his skin , the impinging demand of longing to Tear away someone to share the whisky laden breath, lingering with nimble dreams. As the car sulks down the road, blaring through the California light ,* toward the spot where -torn away -- lost to a timeless idea where skin folds together again. In eternal repose, resting on the other’s exhaled chest. In the red , he ages hundreds of years, and the dream of his life crushes him like a cage. * James Dean D died on 30 September 1955, crashing at fifty-five miles per hour, he was twenty-four.

I’M STILL HERE nathan lee

I'm so tired but i can’t sleep Im so lonely its hurts to breathE I need help it's killing me Im being pulled down in to the deep I'm still here I’ll live to fight again You bring fear I’ll never be quiet again I’m still s here and I’ll be alright again Nothing can stop me and I just needed a friend Somebody help me I’m all alone God please save me and send me home Mellow’s ok when you want the pain to fade But I’ll take a stand and show them that I am brave I'm still here I’ll live to fight again You bring fear I’ll never be quiet again I’m still here and I’ll be alright again Nothing can stop me and I just needed a friend It's getting dark and a little hard to see I’m treading water breathing just barely I won’t let them tell me that I am weak And I’ll stand tall to show them they are beat

AN ORGANIZED MESS dean sharif

EGO DEATH sahej sandhu

I change my visage masking it as love, I transform myself like a monster, disfigure myself, like a freak, erase myself, to remember, The ego rebuilds itself Yet, it rebirths As a façade, a fraud, a reconstruction, recons a distant memory long since slipped away, Close enough to grasp But never able to be held

who am i?

Traces of the true self no longer exist, Because neither does the false self I exist in a body, corrupted by a mind no longer my own I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know who I am anymore,

will he find out? I know its inevitable, it’ll eventually happen, One day, they’ll abandon me, once I switch my faces, back to “the original” o

forsaken me

I mourn for the original has left, left long ago buried in a casket of hate,

for a world of fantasy, delusions, dreams of love, they hide his hate, yet even so I still can pretend, I still know him.

SIGNIFICANT zach cirillo

Significant Figures have to be exact, Without them you’ll have no idea how to track The thing that you are measuring, and how close it is To the number that you need or the answer for your quiz In life though too, you gotta be sure that the person that you choose you really adore Significance shows in all type of ways, Signifi In science, math, and every single day. You have to be very precise, because just a bit off and that's a whole different life With numbers too, they have to be just right So that you can rest easy at night.

PHYSICAL CHANGES brendan gay

Falling from the sky like cotton Coating the earth like a clean winter blanket soft, billowing, and warm Creating whipped dessert peaks on the window sills Sharp, jagged edges, come together to feel as soft as a feather The sun high and bright creates a faucet of compounds, Before the spring and the wind sounds With its warmth... icicles become trickles And the blanket slips away for another winter's day. This familiar compound persists, as the sun goes up and moves into spring Reptiles like a snake, rustle around as the others awake The rushing compounds, feed the waterfall, as the insects crawl But don't get too close, you may fall in and quiver The seasons change once more Soon the summer arrives, a as the wet mud archives The sweet viscous molecules from the beehive drip down, Into a jar I selected to be collected

THE SEA

hayden erikson

On a Monday I set out on my worn out boat To rescue damned sailors from the ocean deep My old, wooden vessel hardly stays afloat As the waves beat down on repeat Twenty sailors dressed spick-and-span Shiver below me in the cold However I am just a man And my boat is very old I bring them all aboard and keep them warm I give them this and more But soon comes rain, a mighty storm And we are far from shore This boat cannot sail fast enough With these sailor boys and me So with a sigh, I hear them cry As I cast them to the sea The next day I find ten men lost Oh! What a horrid sight I lift them up from down below Where they have been all night

The wind returns with raging force And I am filled with dread For my ship creeks and cannot sail But we must move ahead The men they play their shanties Their eyes are full of glee They sing their songs, but not for long For I cast them to the sea The next day brings just five young lads Who claim they've lost their way I take them in upon my boat And give them a place to stay Yet once again the rains return The water fills the deck If this ship does not speed up soon I'll be up to my neck The lads hum tunes and tell tall tales Of things they wish to see But their laughs turn soft, and their songs to wails As they’re cast into the sea

The fourth day I can find no men So I take out my spy glass I rub my eyes, but to my surprise I find a floating lass Her dress is pink and vibrant, Her hair is blonde and sweet She's awfully small, and not so tall So I offer her a seat “I've lost my mother oh kind sir For I fell overboard” I set her up a tiny stool And supplies I’d stored To my dismay I heard a sound The wind began be to whirl And as the rain came pouring down I sobbed for the little girl I gave the girl a gentle hug As she was fast asleep And so with fear, I shed a tear As I cast her to the sea

The last day brought no men to save And no young girls to my glass So there I sat upon my boat And hoped the day would pass For hours I pondered all those Whom I had cast away And just when I thought I was wrong The storm formed in my way The lightning struck the water Rain fell and strong wind blew And even though I was alone My poor old ship would not move “Oh storm” I cried “Why do you return? “Why can’t you leave me be?” I said these words up to the sky As I leaped into the sea

CHANGES john hager

Chemical Change A chemical change has come to pass If you see a new solid, liquid, or gas. The color may change or the energy too. A chemical change can make something new. When a substance is altered, A chemical chemi change is offered. The bonds are breaking... Chemical change, I’m rearranged, Like change that’s caused by baking, Or burning, combining things, making them react. We all know, it’s just a fact. Physical change A physical physi change changes how things look, Like tearing the pages in a book. Physical change Visible change A change you sometimes can see, Change in texture, Color Shape Or even density.

WINTERY FRAMEWORK jack tobin

THE HANGING WITCH nolan lee

there’s a scene(you watch it)(a Greek dream)the crowd actualizes by the choking ropeceremony beginscrows cursing the sky into claritymagic in the womanlightning inside of herwhat will soon be strippedstricture breakerfolktale named(without a throat to speak)serpentine above her meansmartha (pygmalion) into evema warnings earlier had comepraying to a moonbeamwhispering to a rose(loop catching the whispers)-

you are a man from anywherebreathing the sky blue as a shipwreckplaudit breaks the skythe visage descends into rictusfaces lofted into approbationlast vestige wrestles sparkling from her mouth: (a poet without a mouth to weep or shout,) the final kiss of wintry snow to fall, the beating heart of poetry’s mien to reign, a sort of coffin holding none and all, and all of magic bloodied may be slain, (a Lucifer as Milton wrote about).

MASK DOESN’T STOP THE MIND jalen pierre

COVID 19

wesley gabriel

Quarantine It had ups and downs Some took advantage some just sat down My dad began to cook brisket with a new smoker I couldn’t see anyone for many months over From spring to summer Quarantine went by quick But since we did, we were all here in school Happy and not sick.

A FALLEN STAR nigel mcsween

Black holes are endless and bendless too If light can’t escape then neither can you And from a fallen star it bore fruit And created a powerful force of nature, that's just true Its skill is gravity which affects me and you But all things with mass have a little gravity too Black holes were discovered a year y before 1972

ATOMIC MASS nicholas modugno

Every element has a label On the periodic table Even on a gas You can find its atomic mass It is quite easy to locate An elements’ weight All you must do For the atomic mass to meet your view Is add That is not too bad Take the protons from the element Add it to the neutrons and you can experiment To find the neutrons Subtract the protons Sub From the atomic mass And you’ll impress your whole class Now get out there And find that atomic mass is everywhere

PPPPPP RRRRRR OOOOOO SSSSSS EEEEEE

Without great solitude, no serious work is possible.

Pablo Picasso

MASK ON jack winant

HOW COULD WE NOT HAVE SEEN THIS COMING? neil van kirk

“Change is like death, you don’t know what it looks like until you are at the gates” - Ian Malcolm All around my basement are plastic scraps, booklets, and little LEGO pieces that may have been left over. They cover the rug, get stuck under cabinets, and find their way under doors. I ignore all of this, and focus on the booklet in front of me. Surrounding me are long thin, grey wires and hooks and clips. These will be the fences on the wall. Just like it is to find and isolate a virus, it can take a long period of time to isolate one piece in an entire set. I snap on the long stump-like legs, and the sturdy tail. Next I click the head into the body, and soon, I have a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I have him placed within the fence, next to the established fences. Then I snap on the heads of the little minifigures, and grant them their unique items. One has a raptor claw and is a cowboy-like naturalist, the other has a staff and is the creator, the third has a crutch and isthe predictor of doom, who also studies chaos theory. I imagine these figure’s stories sto as well as others and what happened next... Two dramatically colored cars drive through the trees on a track, and hit a sudden stop next to the fence gate. Those inside exclaim with great joy and surprise, expecting to see this fabled Rex, yet nothing appears. The lights flicker and turn off, and the sound of the bleating of a goat and the pounding of rain is the only comfort. The goat’s calls turn into wails that disappear into the night. A strange thudding breaks into the patterning of the rain, and yellow eyes glow within the darkness. Jurassic Park seems like such a fiction that could never come true, and yet I reflect on other fictions that are just like that. A few months ago no one would have suggested that such a drastic disease would pass over the world, yet here we are. For many, the death of the Basketball star Kobe was a heart-breaker that was felt around the nation, and it seemed like the people asked: “What else could go wrong?” As they asked for trouble, trouble found them, and a new disease dis swept the globe. Throughout the day I remembered what it was like before, where you would wake up, go to school, do homework, and play with your friends. Yet that all has changed, you have to wait in line to buy toilet paper, watch footage of people hoarding food fearing an apocalypse, and have your mind reel in shock at the state of unpreparation that we were in. We have found ourselves face to face with the largest problems we have ever seen, as well as small yet devastating ones, and others that blind us from

what has happened. As I pause the build and prepare for the night, I think of the ways we have failed at addressing this issue. First, there were and still are people who believed that this disease is a fake, and so they were not ready when the snake truly struck. Then there was the chaos and realization that everything was going to change, and the people started to get into their panic rooms with all of their supplies. Finally there was prediction of doom and the loss of hope, sending the people farther into the long grass, where the Velociraptors bare waiting. But some of the people of the world made it through the long grass g to the other side. ut what was waiting for them. The world seemed abandoned with tumbleweed in the street and cobwebs in the windows of the shops. I make a mental note in my head to build the abandoned HQ tomorrow. I lay down, preparing to fall asleep, but I keep thinking about all of the supposed omens for this. In Back to the Future, Dr. Emmet Brown exclaimed: “Don’t turn it to 2020.” There is also the fact that there is a major disease every century: the Spanish Flu in 1917, the Black Death in the 1400s, and many others. Then there were the many recent coronavirus outbreaks, not COVID-19, but MRSZ, CZARS, and the Bird Flu. We have created a monster out of a disease from our unpreparedness, and so maybe we should change the way we view the world through our lens. The gentle roll of thoughts lulls me to bed, and I have a dream-less sleep that night. The next morning the sun is up, and the thoughts that left me during the night return. We’ve escaped the island with a helicopter that flies through the night, but then we were found again, and every time we have escaped we have brought something with us, maybe not a dinosaur, but usually a lesson, or a warning. I turn on my Xbox and start a call with my friends so we can play Battlefront II. Sometimes they destroy me, other times I dominate them, and this cycle continues again. There is Some a famous quote that describes these cycles of fun and maybe loss and pain, and it states: “If we don’t learn from history, it will repeat itself once again.” It is true in many aspects of life, but especially in the fact of wars, which are shown many times throughout history, and mostly always have the same cause everytime that they happen. And it is true in the aspect of COVID, because history is repeating itself, maybe not in the exact shape or form, but in a similar manner. *** The sun shines once again a of the park that is buried underneath three floors of wood and stone. The only sounds are the birds calling and the wind howling through the trees. Every school in New Jersey, and even the whole US is under lockdown, and so tomorrow will begin a new era of schooling. Life on the island has found a balance, yet we have not yet. We must find a way to survive.

LOST IN THE MOONLIGHT connor teehan

The summer storm had fallen into a lull, and for Tim Blaires, there couldn’t be any greater relief. Finally, a bit of quiet. The moon resumed its prance and painted a white streak across Blackwater Lake that seeped through the cabin’s chinks and onto the slippers at his bedside. Even absent the gusty roar from outside, the air in Cabin 9 nipped with a sting. “Dammit!” The curse rolled out of Tim’s mouth in a hush. The yellow blanket wrapped around the ends of his feet had slipped out from under his heels and off the edge of the bed. His last defense against the summer chill was now a yellow tapestry of dirt, leaves and whatever else had crawled up through the floor gaps. “What a load of—” Tim caught himself. It was bad taste after all. He could’ve screamed the words until his throat reddened, it wouldn’t have mattered. The other five beds were empty, just as they’d been when he lugged that orange duffel of his across the hearth and just as he’d leave it tomorrow for next year’s campers. Tim stuffed his feet back under the covers when the door on the far side of the cabin swung open and slammed into his muddy boots lining the entryway. Outside the cabin walls, the storm had awoken from its slumber. While the moon had all but disappeared in a sky littered with grey, enough luminescence remained for Tim’s gaze to locate the crudely painted green 9 on the white face of the door. Tim’s eyes rested there for a moment, the ruffle in his brow a betrayal of his confused disgust at the ugly brushwork, before he shifted focus to the dark portal left in its place. Tim rubbed his eyes hard, swung his feet off the bed, and drudged his body over to the ajar door, ignoring the creak of rusted springs that followed. The wind shifted, and bullets of rain that had earlier parked outside began to scatter past the doorway and onto the nearest of the empty bunks. Tim’s exasperated sigh matched the latest of door nature’s cold breathes that ran over the floorboards, up Tim’s legs, inside the rough wool of his pullover, and onto the now stiff hairs along the back of his neck. That damn cold. That’s not what Tim thought about when he pictured his last summer before college. He didn’t picture Camp Red Sun; He didn’t picture staring at that dismal green 9 every day; He didn’t picture calling the broken-down cabin on the outskirts of the campground home for two weeks. But here he was, and the least he could do was shut out that blasted cold. Tim paused in the doorway. door One hand ran through the thick clumps of orange atop his head whilst the other clenched the door. Rain splashed the tops of his feet and splintered wood burrowed into the creases of his palm, yet his head remained locked on the scene outside Cabin 9. The Blackwater was a no longer a neat sheet of water. The storm threw itself down from the darkened heavens and onto the world below. Rain broke the lake surface with an impassioned crash, beating down on the water until Blackwater looked more like a cauldron of boiling oil than an afternoon respite for the campers to go paddle boarding on. A cold wind bellowed across the waterfront and smacked the front of Tim’s chest, but he didn’t budge. He couldn’t budge.

back the tears swelling near the corner of his eyes. It’d been five years since he’d left her in the tub. It was only for a minute, that’s what he choked out to the blue-fitted sergeant in-between crying fits. Her expression shifted into an open smile that revealed a row of teeth doing their best imitation of a stalactite cave. Incisors shouted mush, and the craggy pack of yellow followed. Tim peeled back in disgust at the black rot that lined her gums. Any tears that had threatened to roll down Tim’s cheeks chee were long gone. The innocent skip in her step accelerated into a charged sprint, sending an unsolicited shiver down the slouch of Tim’s back. Whatever this…thing was, it wasn’t Alice. And it wasn’t running to him: It was running at him.

Tim wheeled around and leapt toward the Blackwater. Stones rode the edge of the lake and weren’t shy of making their presence known. They tore at his flesh and drove into the backs of his heels with a sharp stab. A small yelp escaped his lips, but his stride only hastened. Land became water, pumping knees became fluttering kicks. He swam hard while adrenaline rushed throughout his body and stacked into a barricade ba against the lactic burn in his needle arms. His head bobbed for air, and his feet propelled him away from the girl seething at the shoreline. The escape sequence flashed before Tim’s eyes on repeat. He tried to put it into action, to leap into the lake and swim to safety, but the red-haired terror barreling toward him unlocked a fear that poisoned his mind and spread like wildfire. It seeped into the marrow of his bones and chilled the warmth of his blood. Tim tugged at his legs with the core of his being, but his joints remained locked in place. He stood there, frozen at the edge of the Blackwater, in a paralytic limbo as fate rushed toward to him. What had been a gap of more than fifty feet had become mere inches. The girl’s crimson bangs had parted in the sprint, and for the first time, Tim saw what should have been two brown doe eyes. Instead, a pair of dark craters filled their place. Purple streaks of dried blood—the same color mashed beneath her fingernails—spiraled out from the center of her eye sockets. The marks ran down her cheeks before they came to an abrupt stop. The lines condemned her face with an indelible transcript, a physical reminder of when she’d taken the personal pleasure of clawing out her own eyes. “What hell did you come from?” Tim barked. The unavoidable sight of this nightmarish girl stormed past the whites of his eyes and burned into the face of his brain, and only then did he regain control over his legs. Tim retreated toward the lake, but it was too late. The girl crashed into his gut, sending them both into an unbalanced dance that culminated with a splash into the Blackwater. But before their twisted mess of bodies were enveloped by the icy pool, two bony hands wrapped around Tim’s neck and began to crush the cage of his throat. Tim cried out, but the water quickly filled his mouth and transformed his pained shout into a muffled buzz. Blacks and blues had already painted his neck in the imprint of two hands. The moment the girl’s talons latched on their grip, blood vessels shrieked as they split open.

GLASS

alex van den hende

Tim writhed and kicked and turned and bucked, the girl’s grip only tightened. He tried to muster a shout—a plea at his demon-faced assailant—but his lungs were empty and air was nowhere to be found. Alice wrapped her legs around his torso, and her shins dug their place in his lower back. “You did this! You did this to me!” She screamed down at Tim, and even beneath the Blackwater, her words screeched like the call of a banshee. Though her frame resembled a collection of hollowed bird-bones wrapped in baking paper more than it did a nine-year old’s build, Alice dragged Tim’s body across the rough floor of the lake like a poorly stuffed rag doll. “No! Don’t do this,” Tim pleaded in silence. He bellowed the words from his gut and up into his trachea, but her grip bottlenecked his cry into a noiseless wheeze. “Alice…please…I’m sorry.” The apology never left the organ of his consciousness, yet as the thought passed through his head, Alice’s hands retreated from his neck. Tim jolted back further into the abyss of the Blackwater with apprehension at his sudden release. The unease in his heart mirrored the raised brows on his face. He floated there for a moment, and his eyes met her empty sockets. The purple pu claw marks had faded, each a piece of the surrounding murky puzzle, but in the center where her pupils ought to have been a red flare flickered. Even while the lake remained shrouded in darkness, Alice’s pupils shone like embers fueled by the Sun’s core. The blaze rose and fell, and unlike the icy feel of her skin or the harsh grasp of her palm, the girl’s eyes carried themselves with an unforgiving heat. Burning. Alive. Water slipped past the spaced gaps between Tim’s teeth and into the corners of his mouth which had fallen into a shocked gape. The inside of his breastplate pounded to a beat that urged Tim to forget the figure before him and climb to the surface. su Time had lost its precision beneath the Blackwater. Nature’s clock ran its course as an afterthought in Tim’s mind, but the rest of his body didn’t forget. His lungs pled their case, but as Tim stared into the flame of Alice’s eye, a similar fire lit within his gut and engulfed his lung’s cry for air. Tim jumped forward in an awkward lurch. His legs still kicked behind him, but his back was rigid as if he were running under the water. The fear that once petrified him had melted in the flame of Alice’s eye. In its place, a raw aggression formed and drove him toward the girl that hung in the water like a white sheet suspended by the lift of wind. Tim wrapped his fingers around the small curve of her throat. Her esophagus crunched under the strain of his palms, and the flame in her eye began to flicker. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Alice… Forgive me.” His neck flinched to the side in anticipation of the inevitable struggle that would ensue, but he turned back to find the demon girl motionless, the fire within her eye extinguished. His hands shaking in a blur as they retracted from the horror they had just committed. Alice swayed and began to float upwards, her body a lifeless vessel subject to the undercurrents of the Blackwater, but Tim saw nothing but the inner creases of his palms. He stuffed his face into his Blac hands rather than watch her body lifted toward the moonlit surface.

The roaring fire in Tim’s chest had dimmed into a weak cough that joined his lungs fight for air. Tim shot his legs out beneath him and pushed off the silt floor. He propelled up a tunnel of darkness until his head crashed through the surface where he met a world filtered through greyscale. His head broke the calm chop of the lake just as his gasps broke the dead silence of the night. “Alice,” he whispered, knowing there would be no reply. “Alice, where are you!” Tim’s eyes darted across the lake top, but were met with empty water. da I didn’t do this. She was drowning. I saw her drowning. Tim smacked his arms against the water in a rigid stroke until he came upon the place this wretched night had started. There, he treaded above the dark pool as he looked for an answer. A body doesn’t just disappear. It just…can’t. His head bobbed while his feet churned the water into a chaotic swirl below. His shoulders shook as the lake’s cold began to take its toll, yet the hunt continued until a lactic flare in his legs signaled fatigue. fa He gave his five-toed propellers a break from their duties, and his head dipped below the water. He fell deep beneath the Blackwater until all that poked through the surface were thin strands of an orange-haired rug. Tim shut his eyes, in part to make sense of his escape from the night’s terror. Yet, if he were to look down past his dangling feet, he would have seen a sight to stop the timed beat of his heart. A white hand reached out from the depths of the Blackwater, calling for her brother to join her.

GIVE PEACE A TRY ryan smith

CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC: THE GLASS HALF FULL joe azzinaro

As we near the one-year mark since this pandemic dramatically altered our way of life, it is difficult to have any feeling other than sadness. Millions of lives have been lost, and economies all around the world have been adversely impacted. Issues regarding masks and safety protocols have ruptured the unity of our country, and caused furious political disputes. However, amidst all of this chaos, I took time to reflect on some of the positive aspects of living through this pandemic in order to maintain a positive perspective, and seek personal growth. The first positive aspect has been spending more time with family. Being confined to a single household for about three consecutive months had a bonding effect for my family, and it allowed us to become significantly closer to each other. Over these past few months, we have taken family walks, dusted off old board games, found television shows and movies to watch, and perhaps most importantly been in each others’ presence. These are moments that we would otherwise not partake in, as sports and school always cause us to have busy schedules and virtually no time to slow down and enjoy family activities. I made sure to cherish these moments, and will always remember the times we spent together as we tried to brave this storm. Our love and affection for each other is what kept us strong, and still does every single day. Second, I have gained a newfound appreciation and respect for frontline workers, physicians, and teachers who all had to put their lives on the line in order to benefit the public. Their selflessness has saved countless lives, and I am very grateful for the work they have done to help others. I feel as though these professions are sometimes underappreciated, and taken for granted. However, I think their fight during the pandemic has opened the eyes of many and ushered in a newfound respect, respect that is certainly ce well deserved. In addition, I have deepened my awareness of the role of science in developing and advancing the creation of vaccines that will save so many lives. As a high school student unaware of the career path I will take, observing the work these people have done furthered my appreciation of those professions and helped broaden my scope of career interests. Finally, the pandemic has shown me the true power of modern technology, and how we are able to communicate with each other no matter the distance or the situation. Applications such as Zoom and Google Meet have allowed people to stay safe by working from home, and also has allowed students and teachers to communicate efficiently without having to risk their health. I believe the lesson all of us can learn from this is that we are in good hands in terms of technology, meaning that even though this disease has prevented us from experiencing the genuity of human interaction, we are still able to learn and work together.

So, yes, while the pandemic has taken more away from humanity than we could ever imagine, it has also given us an avenue for more bonding time with family, more appreciation for those who risk their lives to save ours, and for the technology that has allowed us to maintain some manner of normalcy. While this disease has changed the way we live forever, I can say, and I hope many people can as well, that I was able to find good in a bad situation. That I was able to alter my perspective for the better. That I was able to learn that even though we may be cut down, we can always come together and grow back stronger.

BOY UNDER BRIDGE tony fajardo

THE BRINGER ethan barrows

Some days I stood in front of my window during the small hours of the morning. I stood and peered out into the blackness, seeing nothing but a partial reflection. Some days I prayed that something would challenge me. Let me see something. I willed something to move. Most days I stood dormant, hoping that I would continue to see blackness. But on those days where I wished I would see something - it’s those days that made me feel alive. Once, something spoke, whispered through glass. Onc “Through Me, you go into a city of weeping; through Me, you go into an eternal pain; through Me, you go, amongst the lost people.” I stood. Devoid of thought, devoid of reality, I spoke. “Through Me, all go, and through Me all is lost. Through Me, a tree withers, a child cries, and dreams perish. People fail to simply… turn around. Through Me, all is gained. Through Me, all is saved. Through Me. My name is the Void, and I have two sides.” It sat. After a minute, minut it spoke. “Your own mortality, your death- does that not frighten you? Mortals like you ordinarily have the bothersome trait of… caring.” I grinned. I sat. I spoke. “My friend, there exist dueling mortalities. Mortality of the flesh is the one You speak of, O Wise One. Mortality of the soul escapes You; through it, one can die twice.” It bowed in humility. It spoke. “I seem to have found the son of Socrates Soc himself; unfortunate, for even he died twice. All fail to escape Me, the Bringer. You too, will bow.” It raised its weapon, expectant. I stood. I laughed. I spoke. “And fail I will, friend. Forget Me not, a man; My inquisitions shall outlast Your neutrality, and therein lies My third mortality. I win.” It smiled. It swung.

I raised My weapon, the Scythe of a Thousand Souls, and grinned. The Bringer missed not. His smile, shone in the reflection of My blade, grew ever larger at His imminent demise. “And fail I will, friend. Forget Me not, a man; My inquisitions shall outlast Your neutrality, and therein lies My third mortality. I win.” I swung. He walked in. All was gained and lost; all was taken and given; He died and I lived. ______________________________________________________________________ On that day, I simply walked home, through the veil, into the sky, until I stood on nothing, faced by a door to nowhere. It was a deep, blood red door, adorned with wrought iron and framed by stone blacker than My ashes. There was no handle, but a medieval knocker hung in the center; I grasped it and went to knock, but on the downswing the door disappeared and left Me, fist in the air, in a warm, farmhouse-style living room with matching puffy white chairs, a gray g couch, an ottoman, side tables with coasters and a record player. Behind the couch, a fireplace crackled. Across from the couch stood a backed chair, with red fabric and a black wooden finish. In it sat the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. She looked to be about My age, in Her mid to late twenties. Her hair, white and down past Her shoulders, matched Her untied Adidas shoes. Her socks, long, black, reached up past Her shins. Her face was blessed with the most perfect structure to grace a human being; Her cheekbones accentuated Her dimples as She smiled at Me, M Her teeth bright as the glint of the Scythe. She had ruby stud earrings in Her petite ears, a discreet nose ring, and a shackle around one wrist. Her black eyebrows were trimmed to perfection, not one hair out of place, highlighting Her eyes, My God, Her eyes: gray irises surrounded by seas of blinding white, protected by long, luscious eyelashes, bridged by a small, strong nose that ended above Her soft pink lips. Her fingernails were painted a shiny black, and the hand on Her face highlighted the light freckles that decorated Her pale skin. She wore a pristine dress shirt, loosely buttoned, sleeves deco rolled to the elbows, with black jean shorts. From Her neck hung a strange symbol. Perhaps this girl was not as heavenly as she seemed; for the time being, however, She had Me fooled. Still smiling at Me, She spoke. Her voice was cold, commanding, but underneath it, I sensed the slightest warmth, compassion, yearning desperately to break the icy surface and greet me with open arms. A voice I had most definitely heard before, perhaps in a previous life.

I fell upwards. All was lost and gained; all was given and taken; all lived and I died. And so I went. ______________________________________________________________________ “Ah, so You’ve finally arrived. Took You long enough, Ethan!” How did She, this glorious valkyrie, know My name, My wholly insignificant name? I shivered at the name spoken aloud. It seemed like a lifetime ago where I called myself Ethan, yet an unconscious piece of Me argued, fruitlessly, that it was only seconds ago where I was Ethan, always had been Ethan. After a moment, and a questioning tilt of the head from Her, I responded with questions. “Where am I, when am I, and who in God’s name are You?” She laughed. It was the most delicate and genuine laugh I had heard, in this life or the last. A minute ago, at the door, a knot had grown in My stomach that I felt was unbreakable; now, the knot was instantly replaced with butterflies. She graced Me with a response. respons “You are where You are, wherever You believe that to be. Nevertheless, You are standing right in front of me. Same goes with time. You exist whenever You believe You exist, but for clarity’s sake, you passed on at 1:41 in the morning.” With those words, I quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:41. She continued. “As for Me… I am simply Your Bringer.” I was beginning to understand My situation, as far as I could tell. As I pieced it all together, slowly, She seemed to read r My mind. “Yes, Your reasoning is sound. It was I who killed you, I who helped You move on. I am the Void, Your Void, and I am thoroughly impressed with You, Ethan.” As it turns out, I understood nothing. This specimen was the being who ended My life, the dark, cold, shadowy being outside My window, Scythe in hand? As I came to this conclusion, I looked over to find the very same Scythe leaning against the wall in a corner. It had not been there before, I was sure of it. I still, however, had no idea what a Bringer was or why this stunning being was Mine. How many people had their personal Bringers? I had just one question for Her. Min “Why?”

“Why?” A sudden look of puzzlement came over Her perfect features. The shift from a smile to a slight frown, however slight, was a crime. In that brief moment, I wanted nothing but to see Her smile again. She spoke. “You understand that You died, yes? It is My sole job, My purpose, to Bring You to the door at the moment of Your death. I have done that, and now You are here with Me.” “Beautiful, isn’t it?” “B I snapped out of My awe to find Isabella standing next to Me, hands clasped behind Her back, looking out at the scene before Us. I stepped closer to Her. She glanced Her gray eyes down at my feet, then they flicked up to My face; I smiled shyly. She grinned and moved closer to Me. Something over Her shoulder glistened in the grass. The clock struck 1:42. ______________________________________________________________________ I woke up in Our bed, Isabella next to Me, M Her left hand still clasping My right as was Our tradition every night. I couldn’t sleep without Her hand in Mine. On My stomach and facing left, I twisted the ring on Her finger, a ring of My own design, the one that I had married Her with. I turned My head and saw My wife, My perfect wife, lying there, Her chest rising and falling with every breath. Slowly, as to not wake My love, I pulled off the covers and stood up. Making My way across the room, I quietly opened the door and slipped out, shutting it softly behind Me. I sat down on the couch and put My feet up. The fireplace behind Me started up by itself, crackling c discreetly, as it did every day. The vinyl on the record player flipped in the air, landed silently, and starting quietly playing Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. Across the room, I eyed My Taylor and decided to play along. Since My arrival to Heaven, I had become the perfect guitarist and vocalist. In life, I was as imperfect as any other musician; now, I missed not one chord, hit every high note. Just another part of My Heaven, I guess. I sang with the record. Wise men say, only fools rush in, But I, can’t, help, falling in love, with, You. Isabella’s high, velvety soft voice came from Our bedroom door with the rest of the verse. I turned My head, and there She stood in the shirt She had slept in, wisps of Her hair strewn across Her face, Her eyes still half closed with drowsiness, shivering from the cold.

A LIGHT

aidan nevisitch

Shall, I, stay? Would it be, a, sin? If I, can’t, help, falling in love, with, You. The record continued softly as I put down the guitar and waltzed over to My wife. She stepped out to meet Me, and We slow danced to the rest of the song, two halves of the same whole, stuck endlessly, gratefully, in the moment. I held Her tight as the song came to a close. I was glad everything had gone to plan, but I had a question that had not yet been answered. “What now? Do I just live here now, no trapped, with no purpose?” She laughed that gorgeous laugh once again, composed herself, and replied. “I wouldn’t say trapped; that implies that You don’t want to be here. But I know You do. This is Your section of Heaven. I am the Angel Isabella, designed in Your mind as the image of perfection, sent down from Heaven as a shapeless entity.” A spark lit inside Me. That’s why I thought She was flawless; She literally sprouted from My brain, My desires. I asked. “Then… am I destined des to stay here with You?” Isabella smiled at the ground, looked up, and grinned at Me with those pristine teeth. “You are.” “Isabella, what happens if I walk back out that door?” She shrugged. “You tell me, Ethan. After all, this is Your Heaven. Open it and find out.” Who was Ethan? Ah. Me. I turned around and hesitantly pushed open the door, expecting heaviness; instead, I fell face first on green grass, the sun shining on My neck. I stood up, blinded by the light for a moment as My eyes adjusted to the drastic change in intensity. When I acclimated to the sunlight, I was face to face with a landscape unlike one I’d ever seen before. Green, rolling hills, decorated with different pockets of flowers — flowers I had never seen — filled the basin created by the frost-tipped mountains around Me. They reached high, the white of the snow on their peaks mixing with the cotton ball clouds. From the mountainside directly in front of Me, about a mile away, sprung a waterfall, a rapidly flowing wall of water that fed into an immaculate, sparkling pond, a quarter of which was covered by the shade of a massive oak tree, immaculat

wrought by centuries of age, knotted beyond possibility, taught by the roots plunged deep underground. Birds flew and sang. It was a scene out of a movie. Take, My, hand, take My whole, life, too, For I, can’t, help, falling in love, with, You. Oh, for I, can’t, help, falling in love, with, You. The clock struck 1:43. ______________________________________________________________________ I sat on the couch, Isabella sleeping in my arms. Six months pregnant and beautiful as ever, She snored lightly as Her hair blew in and out with Her breaths. Her mouth cracked open. It was incredibly late, but I couldn’t bring Myself to disturb Her. To do that would feel like a sin. Seconds later, one big gray eye opened, followed shortly by the other, as She began to sit up. Drowsily, She rubbed Her eyes and when they focused on My tired face, She lit up in a sleepy smile. She whispered. “My love, lov You should’ve woken Me. I know You can’t sleep sitting on the couch.” I chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. I responded. “Who am I to break the placid sleep of the most beautiful, compassionate angel to exist?” She chuckled softly, slowly standing up and pulling Me with Her. She spoke. The clock struck 1:44. _____________________________________________________________________ We named Our son Dante, after the famed poet, creator of the Inferno. Born with a brown r ight eye and a gray left, He truly was a sight to behold. He was now six months old, and His gray, salt and pepper hair had started to come in. He was a Nephilim — the genetic product of a human and an angel, mentioned directly in the book of Genesis— that were said in the Bible to bring about the downfall of humanity, to have brought about the Great Flood. The three of Us were out at the pond; We had crossed the great field and found lounge chairs underneath the shade of the oak tree. Isabella, in a black and white polka dot sundress and sunhat, filled me with the purest joy; She was My happiness, My rock, My elation. I would have been lost in a world of darkness without Her. He And now, I was learning to love My son in the same way. The clock struck 1:45. ______________________________________________________________________ She started to cough. Coughing: a sound I had not heard in lifetimes. Isabella, Dante and I had

never been sick before. I was anxious, a book in My hands, as the slightest cough escaped my wife’s mouth. She looked up at me, as if checking to see if I had noticed. Dante, a year and a half old, had fallen asleep on the sofa beside Me. I inquired. “What’s wrong?” She sighed a shaky breath, composing Herself. “Just feeling a little under the weather, darling. Nothing to be worried about.” She went back to Her reading, r and I Mine. From then on, I began to notice Her cough more and more. As time went on, the smooth, white skin around Her perfect eyes began to darken ever so slightly, signs of Her inner battle that I could not assist with. The clock struck 1:46. ______________________________________________________________________ Bedridden for the past four months, Isabella deteriorated drastically and rapidly to the point where She couldn’t walk by Herself. Even worse, Our beloved son, Dante, now almost three years old, had developed the same symptoms as My wife two months prior. I was extremely worried; I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, I couldn’t function without My family intact. All day, every day, I sat on the end of My beloved’s bed, helping Her to the bathroom, preparing Her meals; I did this also for Our child. Their illness had taken a tremendous toll on Me, not physically, but mentally. The few times I managed to drift off into a fitful sleep, it was plagued by nightmares, visions of a blade, a flaming chariot descending from the sky, fire engulfing My Heaven; the tree burnt to ash, the pond drained, cha the waterfall plugged. Two tombstones stood solemnly side by side. I came to realize that I was seeing my Hell. I swore that I would do all in My power to avoid that Hell becoming reality. I had to. They were all I had. The clock struck 1:47. ______________________________________________________________________ I sat on the bed next to Her as She coughed uncontrollably. uncon Broken for months, I saw nothing but darkness in Isabella’s future; She knew it was Their time, and She told Me as such. Between coughs and rasping breaths, She spoke. “Ethan, listen to Me. You are the single greatest thing to ever happen to Me. You gave Me life, and

a life that I cherish and remember with tears of joy in My eyes. I wish I could tell You what’s killing Us, what it is, but... I don’t know.” I was in denial. I reassured Her, though I myself was not convinced that I was speaking the truth. “You aren’t dying.. You’re just sick. With more rest, more time, You’ll start to heal. Trust Me.” She smiled sadly at My hollow promise. “Ethan, We both know that’s a lie. You’ve seen how fast Dante and I have broken down; it’s like We’re decomposing. I just wish We had more time. We had so much We wanted to do.” Tears started streaming from My eyes, stained with wrinkles from countless sleepless nights. I cried to her. “I don’t know how to live without You. It’s all I know. I’ll be a shell, an empty shell, endlessly and hopelessly waiting on Your return... I’m not strong enough. I’ll never be able to live, truly live, ever again. Please stay with Me, My starlight. Please. I can’t live without You and Dante.” The sound of Frank Sinatra’s My Way drifted in from the living room, marking the gap in the conversation as I cried. conversa And now, the end is near, And so I face, the final curtain... She responded as the music faded into the background. “We have tonight, and however long after that. We should make the most of it while We still can. I’m very tired.” Sniffling and sobbing, I climbed into bed beside Her and Dante, who had been asleep since the beginning of the conversation. conversa As was Our custom, I reached for Her hand, holding it tighter than ever before. She gripped Me back. When I awoke in the morning, Her hand was cold, limp in My hand. I couldn’t hear Her breathing. I sat up, tears already in My eyes. I mustered the courage to turn My head. There She was, unmoving and unbreathing, Her eyes open, staring at the ceiling, Her mouth curled in the slightest of smiles. Her chest no longer rose and fell. Her hair, moving slightly because of the open window, was strewn across Her face like a veil. Beside Her laid My child, My only child, still and quiet. I knew They were gone.

A painful groan built up inside Me from nothing. All the pain, the loss, I was feeling fed it, stoked it, turning it into a stuttering cry, then a scream. As I wailed tears falling from My chin, the house began to fall apart. Chunks of the roof fell beside Me as I knelt on the bed, clutching My family, caressing Their faces. The walls cracked and crumbled, burning, BURNING with My rage, My hatred; the house was decimated, a casualty of My grief. I, numb, carried My family out of the carnage. I buried bu Them by the great oak, beside the flowing waterfall. I knelt, still crying, and began to pray. I prayed that They felt no pain, that they were happily with God now, and most importantly, that I would see Them again. I screamed at the Heavens, demanded answers from the void. This time, I got no response. I wandered aimlessly around My valley, waiting to be struck down, wanting to be struck down. An end to My pain and suffering would be the greatest blessing to ever befall Me. As I shuffled past the wreckage, the glint of metal in the grass struck My eye. The hilt of a dagger protruded pro from the ground. I grabbed hold of it and pulled it from the earth. A jagged, silver blade stemmed from the black leather hilt. When I peered into the shiny metal, I saw in the reflection My wife standing beside Me. I whipped around to see Her, but was met with only air. Isabella’s words echoed in My ears. To hear Her voice, Her perfect voice; that sealed My fate. It won’t end well for You. I promise. I plunged the blade deep into My heart, and felt no pain. I fell in slow motion, embracing the grass as I breathed br one of My last breaths. Blood gushing from My wound, I looked up to the sunlight one last time. A white-haired woman stood by the pond and noticed Me. She jumped and waved. My Isabella. She was outlined with light, a figment of My imagination, now and then. God, how I missed Her. Beside Her, Dante waved as well, outlined as His mother. I knew I was going to join them. I smiled as the grass turned red around Me. A tear dropped from My right eye and washed a blade of grass; one green blade among thousands painted red. The life drained from My eyes, and My soul was free. I brimmed with anticipation: I knew My Bringer was coming. I left that life, and walked into Her open embrace, a stranger. The clock struck 1:48. ---

LOGIN SUCCESSFUL WELCOME, DR. T. JONES SPECIMEN FILE: ETHAN BARROWS CAUSE OF DEATH: VENTRICULAR FIBRILLATION TIME OF DEATH: 1:41 AM LAST RECORDED BRAIN ACTIVITY: 1:48 AM DELETE SPECIMEN FILE?

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WATER FLOW alex van den hende

BEGINNING OF COVID-19 finn loughrey

Sitting down on a bench right next to the kitchen table. The shades of each matching, a great golden pine color. I think about going out to Subway for a late lunch, then remembering the quarantine in Northern Ireland not allowing me to escape my home. I think more on how this entire lockdown started, remembering the exact course it took on everyone’s year, my year. I am in New Jersey, lying down on a power grey sofa, which is typically intolerable but during that occasion comforting to say the least. I run a fever of 100.8, with sweat dripping down my forehead and the blanket on top of me surely not helping. My mom lounging on the same sofa foreh nearly 4 feet down from my feet, next to her sits a coffee and my medicine. We are watching Fox News on television and it tells people to worry about a new virus from Wuhan, China called Coronavirus. They warn travellers to avoid contact with people coming from China, because it is almost impossible to see who has it because of its flu-like symptoms. “Do you think I could have that?” I asked. “No, you would have needed to be in contact with someone f rom China” She replied. I keep on thinking the worst, regardless of the impossibility of the odds. Trying to focus on something else I keep finding myself zoning off, looking at the baby blue walls surrounding me or the silver bullet grey carpet in the middle of the room under the light brown table. I pick up my glass of warm water, which is nearly empty after sipping on it for over an hour, off of the beige table to the right of me. I keep thinking about the symptoms Coronavirus gives you, and how I have the same exact thing. I stop thinking about what happened over a year ago and bring myself back into the kitchen in Northern No Ireland. I try to help my parents by looking after my little sister, Orla, who is only 4 and can be a handful. She is 4 years old, nearly 3 feet tall, and bright blue eyes with blonde hair. She is wearing her purple Disney Princess Dress we got from a gift shop in a Four Seasons Hotel in Orlando. I can hear her teasing Millie, our new dog, and decide to give her three options of what to play. “Do you want to play marching game, Minecraft, or cook miniature nutella crepes?” I said. “Cook the Nutella,” She replies with. Due to lockdown in Northern Ireland I am not allowed to leave the house, so I learned how to cook the nutella crepes. She gets her step stool ready next to the kitchen counter and begins to help me get the ingredients ready to cook. “Wash your hands first,” I say. “Can we set a timer?” She asks, because she likes us seeing how fast we can make it. “Sure, and I will let you mix,” I replied. We get milk, butter, and one egg out of the big, new, white fridge in the garage. Next we get the vanilla extract, nutella, white bread, and sugar out of the brown cabinet in the kitchen. Then I get my favorite knife, cutting board, pan, whisk, tongs, a rolling pin, one teaspoon, and a big bowl. The first thing I do is put the egg, milk, sugar, and vanilla extract into the big bowl and let my sister mix them. Next what I do is get 4 pieces of bread, cut the crusts off, flatten the pieces with the rolling pin, spread Nutella on all of them, and roll them up. Then I pick the rolls up

up and dip them into the mixture Orla made, and put them on the pan and cook them at max temperature. I let the rolls cook for a couple minutes while I spin them in the butter. After that I take the rolls out and put them back on the cutting board. Orla gets the sugar and cinnamon out of a drawer and gives them to me along with the teaspoon. I do half a teaspoon of cinnamon and two teaspoons of sugar and roll the crepes in them. Lastly, Orla gives me two plates, a pink for her and a blue for me, to put the crepes on. I top them both off with a smiley face made out of maple syrup and powdered sugar. su I dread having to clean it all up so I take my time when eating the delicious dessert. I think back on what happened on the first day of COVID-19. I wake up from an hour nap on the grey sofa, my mom now in the kitchen making dinner for the family. I stand up grudgingly and tell my mom and dad, “I’m not hungry I’m just going to go to bed.” ‘Alright sweetheart,” my mom says. “Feel better mate,” my dad says. I go up the main stairs right next to the front door and turn left to the first door, my bedroom. I don’t shut the door to leave l some light into my room from the hallway, and I grab the remote off of the metal desk to the right of my door. I climb up the dark brown ladder of my bunk bed to the upper bunk, once reaching the top I lay down on my Star Wars bed sheets and turn on the television and go to an episode of The Simpsons. Finding it impossible to sleep I begin to go on my phone for a little while, trying to ignore the weakness I feel in my legs. I text my mom if she can bring me up an orange gatorade, my favorite flavor. She brings it up along with a medicine called Calpol, a painkiller, from the UK. I take tiny sips every few seconds of my Gatorade, waiting for the drugs to make me feel tired so I can fall asleep. The effects of the painkillers make me tired within half an hour, making me eventually drouse off and feel better the next day. --“Jane is asking if you want to go to a drive thru movie with Matthew and Oscar,” my dad says to me. “Sure.” “I think you should because you won’t see them for a long time because of this new lockdown,” He says. After he says that I begin to think about how the first lockdown started, and how everyone around me was affected. It is not an average Friday, because spring break is only one hour away. I am zoning out, barely paying attention to Ms. Smith up at the chalkboard behind her grey desk. Even though history is my favorite subject, I can not help but stare out the two large windows by the back of the classroom and think of how much video games I will play over the break. I am planning everything to the most miniscule details, such as where the orange gatorade is in the fridge to grab the moment I get inside my house. I begin to focus back on the teacher as she says, “I don’t know what is going to be the school situation after spring break because of Covid and everything, but have an incredible break and stay safe.” When putting my laptop and binder in my backpack to leave, conversation immediately breaks out, so I go over to talk to Tyler and Hugh.

“Are you guys doing anything over break?” I asked them both. “Yeah I am going on vacation,” Hugh says. “Nice,” Tyler says. We begin walking down the crowded and noisy hallway, not talking much just because of the excitement or noise. We all eventually get down the stairs, holding the door for each other to get outside onto the patio to be dismissed. I immediately feel a fresh breeze on my face and the 70 degree weather. w Hugh stays behind on the patio and Tyler and I meet up with Aidan and Hunter. All of us together begin walking out on the grey sidewalk, crossing streets, saying jokes, playing music, and having a good time. We eventually make it to Downtown Summit and begin to plan out what we want to do. First we go to Sweet Nothings, a candy shop that has the best gum in town. I get a grape Big League Chew and Tyler gets a green apple Big League Chew, and we decide to split ownership of each and share the two bags. Next we all walk down to Mccools, an ice cream shop that is well known in Summit. While walking down the steady decline to get there, I see the t rees with bright green leaves right in front of the Summit Train Station. We reach the shop and open the clear, glass door, Ding! The bell rings from the door opening, and the lady working there looks up and greets us. I order second behind Tyler, who gets a chocolate ice cream. “Could I please have 2 scoops of raspberry sorbet in a waffle cone please?” I say “Big scoops or little scoops?” the lady asks. “Big scoops,” I reply. As soon as it gets handed to me I immediately feel the ice cream melt in my mouth with the best raspberry flavor. I pay for me and Tyler’s ice cream, which is around 14 dollars. We walk out after forming a huge line of people behind us and feel the heat to not be as bad anymore with our frozen companion by our side. Aidan, who was hanging out with Hunter, has to walk his sister home. We say goodbye and then discuss when everyone else has to go home. The three of us have to go at the same time, 6:30. At around 5 I get the bright idea to buy mint Mentos and a Coca-cola. But we don’t have a lot of money left. So we all pitch in to get it, then we decide where we should explode it. Eventually we decide to go to a big park that has a playground attached a to it. To get there we need to walk inside the train station that also serves as a bridge to two sides of the town. After walking through the station and crossing a few streets we finally get to the place. We look around, to the gas station to the YMCA to make sure no one will stop us. Then we decide the time is right and pour the Mentos into the Coke bottle. It only spurts up a few feet but we all laughed hysterically. It is hard to believe that after one of the best days of my life that quarantine started. Having to stay inside your property prope line became the norm. Going to stores you needed to wear a mask the entire time. After break school became virtual, with a new schedule and more free time came about. School starts at 8, I have 3 classes, math, english, and social studies. I facetime Aidan and do math with him. “Yo whats up?” I say. “Uhhh I don’t know how to do this math, can you help?” He replies. “Sure.”

In the next 30 minutes we completed the classwork with 10 minutes spare. Towards the end Aidan began to understand and we both began to learn how to solve the questions better. “Bye, thank you for the help” Aidan signs off with. “No problem.” The next class I work by myself and finish the english effortlessly. The assignment was making flashcards for the vocabulary quiz on Thursday. The final class was virtual, on google classroom . As I get the link to join and am in the waiting room I wonder what would happen if I joined without video, but of course never going to try. We discuss a new project we will work on with 4 topics to choose from. I decided to go with an entire black air force regiment during WW2. It appealed to me because of the discrimination they faced, even though they were one of the best throughout the war. Eventually after class ends I shut my Mac laptop, get up from my black swivel chair, and open my white bedroom door to go downstairs. Seeing all of the ingredients there makes my mouth begin to water. I decide to concoct penne pasta with pesto and tuna on it, the best delicacy deli you could have during this time. I open the pantry door to see if I have all the ingredients. I pick up the tuna, tabasco sauce, mayonnaise, white pepper, and pasta out of the cupboard. Next I open the fridge and get the tomatoes, and right next to it a knife, cutting board, can opener, and mixing bowl. My mom begins to make the pasta to make the altercation go quicker, also I don’t know how to make pasta. I wash the tomatoes under the kitchen sink and dry them off with the kitchen roll. Next, I cut them into bite sized pieces and put them in my mixing bowl. On top I pour in all of the tuna, then heaps of mayonnaise on top of it. Then put splashes of tabasco on and mix in the white pepper. peppe After stirring with a spoon it is ready as soon as the pasta is. My mom mixes in the pesto with it, and I pour the tuna all on it. It is enough to feed an army, but I am a one man army in this instance. I devour the entire lunch and feel as if I ate a bowling ball, but I have to get up the stairs and join another class. My mom offers to put away my dishes and clean up, which I appreciated. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and before anything else I finish all my homework and go downstairs to my gaming setup. I brought myself out of that thought from New Jersey long ago and now I am back to the 5 series BMW on my way to see Elf in a drive through movie in Northern Ireland. It is crazy how that became a normal day under lockdown, seeming like it was only days ago. But it wasn't days ago, it was a year ago.

THE NEW NORMAL luke mcchesney

A FLOWER jack reale

SONDER jack reale

Sonder N. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own— populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, high as a lighted window at dusk.

And as the flame which engulfed the world began to simmer, Death looked over the valley of ashes, scanning for any sign of life. “They actually did it”, Death said in a distorted whisper. His long, boney finger stuck out from his cloak as he bent down towards the ash. He rubbed it between his fingers until only soot remained. As Death took a final look over the valley, a yellow particle caught his eye. Upon further observation, Death picked out a raincoat. Surely nothing could remain in the aftermath of this destruction. The aftermath of the end. Nothing remains in the end. des Death began to levitate, traveling down the hill and across the valley towards the anomaly. As Death approached the coat began to take shape, take life. All of a sudden, the yellow raincoat had legs, arms, and a head. A girl. But this was no ordinary girl, and Death knew this. “Lucy”, Death whispered, not daring to look at her. “It could have gone differently, right?” Lucy said. Death did not reply. “Why did you do it?” she asked, tears running down her face. Death stared expressionless at Lucy. She was not his equal. “Why bring so much destruction? ” Death had never been asked something like that. Hesitant at first, Death opened up. “I often find myself reminiscent of past years, my youth”, Death said,“my brittle, and almost transparent hands serve as constant reminders of the desolation within the world. The knowledge of what the world was, is, and will be, shakes me to my core.” He shifted his gaze towards Lucy’s white slippers, untouched by the ash. “My soul runs rampant with the burdens of the dead, remembered by no one but me. Do my eyes deceive me, m a wretched, bleak reflection of the man I once was; a carbon copy, real to the touch, yet non-existent in all other aspects. A shell. An illusion.” A pause. “A great disappointment. I don’t remember a life and why would I want to? It’s predictable. They were predictable. I am forever predictable.” Lucy's tears were now gone. Her face was pale, her eyelids hung low, and her body swayed. Suddenly Lucy fell towards Death. Death moved back to prevent himself from touching her; Lucy grabbed his arm and pulled him to wards her. Lucy hugged Death, and, after hesitation, Death hugged Lucy. Her hug felt warm, and it stayed warm for a couple of seconds. A real hug.

GALAXY FISHING connor cirrotti

FAN

ethan low

CANDY BOWL RECIPE ryan smith

I have decided to host a gathering. Out of convenience, I am opting for a bowl of candies rather than a gourmet display which would require excessive effort. The instructions are absurdist, so take them as such. M&Ms: Grab two handfuls of rocks, acrylic paint (red, yellow, and green, no brown), do not paint the m on the front, place them into the bowl or shove into your mouth. Gumdrops: Purchase a pack of gum at the start of the week, chew it throughout the week and keep the discarded dis pieces. On the first day of the new week (Sunday or Monday), place each day’s pieces into separate jars corresponding with the day, fill with water, record the context of the chewing, decide which piece profoundly influenced decisions that day, label that jar, take it back to the place you started chewing the piece, 1. Dump the jar’s contents 2. Smash the jar 3. Place the jar down Repeat this process, see if you return to similar or nearby places, and place all the others into the Rep bowl. Hershey Kisses: Grab a piece of paper, kiss anywhere on the surface, mail to someone far away from you (physically or emotionally), instruct them to trace where they believe you kissed the paper, ask them to kiss the paper as well, and then send it back to you, circle where you think they kissed the page, then kiss it again. Repeat this process until the page is completely dark, crumple the page, place it into the bowl. Sour Patch Kids: Think of an idea you shy from pursuing, say aloud: “I am incapable of doing/performing/achieving ________”, prepare a small glass of salt, each time you tell yourself you cannot achieve your ideas or aspirations, take some of the salt and rub it around your mouth. Do this until you stop the habit, then put your glass into the bowl. LifeSavers: Please conjure up your favorite (material) indulgence, find a small box capable of being closed shut completely, speak your object and reasoning as to why you chose it, close the box, write w a small note which says: “this has saved my life”, do not indicate your name, do not indicate your object. Put it into the bowl.

DELBARTON SCHOOL DELTA

SPRING 2021