Written Art
Del Rio High School Literary-Art Magazine
Anali Cantu
Poetry
7 “Violated” Carolina Stell
“Dancing Webs” Aiko Sanchez
“Crawling Night” Aiko Sanchez
“Followed My Sister” Daphne Rosales
8 “What Lies Beneath the Surface” Daphne Rosales
“Nothing” Will Fooshee
“Tick Tock” Amanda Ong
“Silence” Carolina Stell
“The Shadow” Edniel Garcia
Brianna Castro
Mia Bolster
Fernanda de Luna
The LAte Night Showers
by Miriam Beltran
As a girl, I was always told how to be a proper lady. How to eat, how to drink, how to dress, how to act, and what to say. But the oddest thing my mother would tell me is to take a shower every single day- morning and afternoon.
I understand that taking a shower is very important to every girl as much as it is for every guy, but my mother insisted I take hot showers. Very hot showers. Hot to the point that steam would collect on the porcelain walls and mirrors blurring out any reflection. I know every girl may enjoy a hot shower, but my showers were always much hotter.
“Can I please take a cold shower? I feel too hot. I'm sweating already enough.” I asked my mom many times, but she would always tell me no without hesitation and without question. She’d just point to the bathroom, and I’d head off.
Another odd thing was my dad’s eating habits. Now, he always had a healthy diet, but the way he ate his meat always concerned me. He prepared his meat stale and not fully cooked. I always thought it was just the media or advice he was given for a healthy diet, but the way he ate it always made me feel weird.
“...my mother insisted I take hot showers. Very Hot showers.”
One night, as my parents slept in their bed, I went to the bathroom to take a hot shower as my mother always told me to do. But, then I thought
that this was the chance to shower in cold water. My parents were asleep, after all, so why not?
After I had taken my first cold shower, I felt strange. While in the abyss of my hallway, I felt uneasy. My heart beat faster. Why did it beat faster?
Then, the hair of the back of my neck froze. I stared down the dark hallway. The only source of light came the kitchen, and I saw my dad. He held a piece of meat, fresh, and not cooked. He looked up at me, saliva dripping down from his lips. The way the fresh meat stained his shirt and mouth made him look he just killed someone. It was unsettling.
“D-Dad..where’s mom?” I stuttered. He was quiet.
Then, I noticed him drop the raw meat on the floor and sniff. Like some kind of dog, he got on all fours and began to rush me, screaming like a mad man. I turned around and ran. Crying, confused, I tried to make my way upstairs when suddenly I felt someone pull my arm then my whole body into a room that led to the basement.
It was my mother, alive.
“I told you to take hot showers, didn’t I?!” She yelled at me with anger and fear.
Before I could even speak, I heard a banging on the door. My mom pushed me behind her. I noticed something gleaming in her arms. It was a shotgun.
“Mom, why is dad acting like this?!” I asked, terrified and worried.
She aimed the shotgun at the door and spoke with a blunt expression. “I told you to take hot showers. Your father hates his food cooked. He prefers them stale and raw.”
Photography by Carolyn Leija 4
Violated
By Carolina Stell
He looks at me with those eyes. When I ask about it, he lies.
As he tries to grab, My heart feels a stab.
Pierced by his stare, My armor feels bare.
I feel so violated. I prefer to be sedated.
Dancing Webs
By Aiko Sanchez
Silent webs are spun, Tiny legs move through the duskNature's quiet dance.
Written Art Club members who attended our annual Horror Poetry Workshop created truly horrifying poetry. Before they wrote, club sponsors lead a discussion about how fear is different for every person. Some fears include creepy crwlers, the long drop, the unknown, death, and other phobias. Students were allowed poetic licence through free-verse and others followed a pattern like the couplet or the cinquain. Students had the option to submit their poetry for publication, and the ones on this page are the best of the best. Happy Reading!
Followed my Sister
By Daphne Rosales
When I was young and small, I saw the shadow of my sister on the wall. So, at night I awoke and followed her figure Down to the kitchen for the water pitcher, But when I turned on the lights, I was alone-alone and in fright. I ran faster than ever into my bed
Where I see my sister, I am filled with dread.
Crawling Night
By Aiko Sanchez
In the dark at night, Creepy crawlers softly glideWhispers in the shade.
What Leaks Beneath the Surface
By Daphne Rosales
Seaweed consumes the creek as I swim. Its vastness scares me:
The long tentacles it uses to consume
And its depth that makes it hard to look through.
The slimy, yet furry arms begin to pull me
And usher me into the muddy abyss. It swallows me entirely.
Nothing
By Will Fooshee
Nothing
All I have done
Nothing I ever do It can only lead to Nothing
Nothing
Tick Tock
By Amanda Ong
Brittle bones begin to shatter
The passing time is just the matter
Tick tock
I stare but everything is a blur
Another function lost
Tick tock
Hair thins and disintegrates as well
My face slowly falls
Tick tock
Who is that in the mirror?
Wretched splotches surround my face
Tick tock
Things begin to slip my mind
Did I leave the oven on?
Tick tock
Toothless monster
A foul view of a human in the mirror
Tick tock
My face gets buried under my sagging skin
My eyes are gone
Tick tock
By Carolina Stell
The silence is deafening. I wonder if this is permanent?
Feels like eternity.
Only one thing is worse than being lonely: It’s having unknown company.
The Shadow
By Edniel Garcia
A boy alone in the night
Filled with fright, An ominous presence made itself known. It was a black figure, darker than the dark. The bioy ran to his room. He prayed, and it was gone.
Drawing by Marlen Vasquez
The Savior
By Ayden Patiño and Eliza Avendaño
The snow covered the windows. I was freezing. There was no fire tonight. That thing was outside. I decided to keep warm and wrap myself in a blanket.
I feared it might hear me. I decided to check if it was still out there lurking in the snow. I opened the door to the cabin. The blast of the freezing wind was so intense that I had to cover my face and hold the door tight to keep it from flying out of my hand.
I saw it.
It was five feet away from me staring, just standing there. I slowly closed the door in hopes it did not see me clearly through the heavy snow. I tried to call the forest service. No answer.
I walked back to my room and prayed that I was not its prey. I heard its heavy steps in the snow. There was a tapping on the window. I froze in fear. Don't open the window. Don't speak of it. Pray for your savior. It tapped on the window again. It knows I'm here. I ran to hide in my closet. I started praying, repeating the sermons I so gloriously memorized. There was a shatter of glass which made me scream. The window. Heavy footsteps through the room. It was outside the door. Breathing.
I gasped as the closet doors swung open. Darkness. I could hear it, but I couldn’t see it. Don't speak of it. I could not speak. Pray for your savior. It is my savior.
As it grabbed my arm with its thin yet strong coal-black arms, I was relieved. It clawed at my leg. I screamed in joy, “My savior is here! He's here!” It ripped my eyes out. I couldn’t help but laugh!
Lastly, it ripped out my jugular with its holy claws. It finally let me go. I laid there, limbs torn and half eaten.
I am grateful for my savior! My savior!
The snow has covered the windows and is blowing throughout the house. All I know now is the frozen blood beneath me, grateful for my savior.
