2019 Everglades Literary Magazine (E.L.M.) by Everglades High School

The Everglades Literary Magazine Spring 2019, Volume VI

Printed in the United States of America. Copyright - All rights reserved and all written material contained herein is the sole property of the writer who created it and is protected by US Copyright laws.

Letter from the Editors

t is our pleasure to present to you the 2019 Everglades Literary Magazine (E.L.M). This yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s magazine is one that we are really proud of because it captures some of the best work from our peers. The cover this year really allowed us to show what kids in our generation are into. While it is a stretch from the traditional art work

that you might think of, the piece reflects the art that we watch in anime and in manga. It

is different but beautiful.

e, as Senior Editors, want to thank the rest of the editors for the hard work selecting the literary pieces for the magazine this year. It is not easy to sort through hundreds of submissions and determine which ones will make the cut. We also want to thank the teachers and staff at Everglades High for

giving us the space to be creative and find an outlet for thoughts and emotions. Please enjoy the 6th edition of the E.L.M!

Sincerely,

Isabelle Hastings and Sebastian Solorzano Isabell Hastings and Sebastian Solorzano Senior Editors 2019 ELM

Cover Photo: Lissette Caal

Poetic Writing

The Day You Came

Maryam Muhammad

Winter

Bradley Gonzalez

Haiku Collection #1

Dekarlo Orta

Haiku Collection #2

Megan Moise

Pen and Paper

Isabel Martinez

An Ode to a Friend

Niki Kavoosi

Words for My Mother

Selena Macdonald

Beyond Pages

Catarina Alvarez

Unique Love

Julie Mendez

Prose Writing Trials of Nikota: Demora

Gavin Herrera

Flightless Bird

Lissette Caal

Vuela

Nathalie Pena

The Skinwalker

Angelina Tuccillo

The Creature & The Stranger

Connor Weeks

Change in America

Mark Lema

Tha Atonnatta: Birth of Man

Giorgio Collazo

Gold

Nicolette Pysher

The Bunny and the Fox

Rebekah Staten

Student Art Valeria Leon Torres

Kitana Hyson

Brianna Escalona

Mark Alfonseca

Samantha Quiroz

Soha Aboobaker

Miska Sutherland

Ashley Kow

Amanda Joloya

Yasmine Faigle

Amy Matos

Rebecca Scott

Courtney Murphy

The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is the achievement of beauty and delicacy. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; W. Somerset Maugham

Maryam Muhammad

Oh, the day you came, The grass became green

Our house was finally clean, The day you came My family came together, We were united forever. The day you came, The quiet days are over, Now I have to watch Grover, Elmo made a comeback, Dora got rid of her backpack Afraid of Tigger, but heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll learn once heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bigger. The day you came, When told to sleep, You began to weep, Lights turned on,

You start to stumble I hear you stomach rumble.

The day you came, Barely able to talk, You began to walk, And soon you ran around the block, Running to doors and starting to knock, Gave me a headache that didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t stop. The day you came, Looking so innocent, Sometimes acting like Maleficent, Cute and adoring,

Without you my days would be boring, I loved you since. The day you came, Memories made will last forever You and me holding hands together, Tears on my parents' eyes When we held you in our arms, The day you came.

Bradley Gonzalez

Winter, the cruelest Yet most inviting season.

Snow falls as introduction To a white wonderland What await? Winter, an invitation for Rest and reflection.

Surrounded by gloomy skies, Temperature being an Invisible component of the environment. Winter, a time where Even Mother Nature rests. Leaves, plants, lay frozen, Completely still. Nature ceases to exist. Winter, a time of dried leaves With bare trees and Lifeless color combined With a freezing, engulfing, Paralyzing grip.

Winter, a season so powerful. Movement occurs at itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s will. Dull, grey, treacherous. Forceful of nature commanding It to change or cease. Winter, a stinging, Reinvigorating breath of Yet blissful air. The Brutal season that brings beautiful times.

Winter, bringing its power In forms of snow and hail. Sleet and frost. Beginning in the winter solstice. Ending in the spring equinox.

Dekarlo Orta

Honey dew on leaves Lemon scented Auburn trees, Let me keep this dream

Sifting through the grass Picking all the weeds I passLife is safe at last

Deep blue treasury Ocean moons and dolphin squeaks, Drifting out to sea...

Meagan Moise

When the wind picks up Petals may live in the sky, Then they say goodbye.

Leaves of the weeping Fall far and into the seaThey’ll come back, you’ll see.

The roots of the tree

Give all their wisdom to me… Their small youthful bee.

Isabelle Martinez

You hold the truth, Every time I write on you.

You know me better than I do. You know my heart stands true. You know what makes me blue. The movement through my hands, Takes me to a new land,

Your ink puts me in a trance. You know my stance. You help my mind advance. You & me, we’re aligned. You’re the place where I’m not confined. You bring me peace of mind. You know what’s behind my rind. With you, I’m defined. Without you, what would I do? Walk around with negative thoughts imbue? Spend my time acting like a shrew? Reek of havoc on every avenue? I’m thankful you’re always there to turn to.

A collection of my thoughts, My words signed across, Without you Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m at a loss. You know me behind my gloss, You free me of my albatross.

Niki Kavoosi

A friend Bringing pain to the people closest to him

He’s in every corner nowhere to hide All he wants is joy Yet all he does is bring agony to others To anyone Does it bring you joy? He is beautiful He messes with you mind It makes you feel worthless Blinded by his surroundings He is sweet, but is told not to be He’s lost No one can find his true self People tell him You have a purpose in this world You are not useless No matter what they say Those words aren’t strong enough Unless they are told from someone, Important

Throughout all of this I tried I attempted to fix this broken thing It canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be repaired Once you break its heart It takes a miracle to put it back together It hurts knowing someone you love is gone,

Forever Will I ever get over it? Maybe, eventually There were so many joyous memories Your melancholy laugh

The feeling of love, but regret Your madness Eternally grateful for the time shared

Selena Macdonald

Oh mommy dearest, You're so sweet to me.

You gave me life, And to you, I owe the world. You heal me when I'm sick, You aid me when I'm hurt. You are my hero! Oh mommy dearest, You're the best of me. You sacrifice your pleasures, For my needs. You pick me up when I'm down, You're strong when I’m weak. You are my hero! Oh mommy dearest, You're my world. You love me with, An unconditional love. When I’m rude you're kind, When I'm selfish, you're selfless.

You are my hero! Oh mommy dearest, You're so kind to me. When I act nasty, You still love me. You're the light to my darkness, The angel to my demon. You are my hero! Oh mommy dearest,

I am sorry. For being rude and selfish, For being unkind and disrespectful. I love you so much, My heart is full. You are my hero!

Catarina Alvarez

Your crisp, clean pages Caress my fingertips, Ebony ink staining them With the stories held Between your bindings. You paint vivid pictures Within all our heads Bringing adventures and Teaching us lessons With your wise words. You offer company In times of boredom

Taking us away to Places we wish to be, Like a magical portal. In all our history, You held our secrets,

Our knowledge, and Kept it safe in your Pages and writing.

You grant us empathy Sympathy, compassion, And insight on what We do not know, building Bridges between us.

You have intermingled Our lives and stories, Spread ideas with Your beautiful type, Bringing connectedness.

But, beyond everything, You allow expression, The ability to speak Whatever you please, A perfect gift.

Halli Nguen

Brown ink dyes ivory leavesScribbled words on an aged journal Overflowing with lyrics of the wind Of simple whistles, of simple tunes Breathing life through my fingertips Fleeting as passerby clouds A nonchalant onlooker like me A weary smile escapesWarmingly nostalgic such As the Sun’s illumination through Verdant spades waving, saying “hello” Cheering for those needing guidance Those wrapped in blanketed warmth who Enjoy simplicity sights like me The humble bark props itselfRising higher than mountains Determined to stay afloat, yet serene Offering a sturdy base to hold Necessities or drowsy heads Fatigued by non-ending Support given by people like me

The Sun disappears slowlyAnd The Moon lifts its head Glowing, with everlasting beauty It shines sparkling glittery light to Show light can beat through the darkness Awakening fireflies and

Friendly, curious critters like me The lovely night rings withRepeating chirps of crickets Playing tiny violins, perfectly well! Owls perched in trees to lookout for the

Lost camping people who slightly Like to be forgotten in Their cozy sleeping bags just like me

Julie Mendez

Mom, you gave me life, existence, and love. You taught me many things. Like walking, talking, math, science, reading, how to cook food and clean the house. You taught me how to be a good person. I owe you every heartbeat. I know we’ve been through pain.

We’ve cried, fought, and argued. I’ve hurt you and you have hurt me. I screamed in your face. We both made mistakes.

Even with all of our struggles, I am thankful for you.

Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve done so much for me. You conceived, carried, and gave birth to me. You raised me, protected me, cared for me, and you love me. You are a wonderful

wonderful woman and an amazing mother. You never gave up on me. You will always be in my heart. Even after I leave,

when I go to college, I will always remember you. I will always thank you for all you have done for me. When Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m a mother one day, I will understand your struggles, your pain, and your hard work. Even when I am grown, I will always love you.

You can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again. You can also look at a picture for a second and think of it for the rest of your life. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Joan Miro

Valeria Leon Torres

Brianna Escalona

Samantha Quiroz

Miska Sutherland

Amanda Joloya

Amy Matos

Courtney Murphy

Kitana Hyson

Mark Alfonseca

Soha Aboobaker

Ashley Kow

Yasmine Faigle

Rebecca Scott

Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its highest. Live in fragments no longer.

â&#x20AC;&#x201D; E. M. Forster

Gavin Herrera The reflection of a young True Born whose skin bore the complexion of faded sapphires stared back at Kato. His face was protected by a worn dark grey cloak, whose soul intention was to protect himself from anyone who was being too curious. To his right was the slightly older, much shorter, Zyra, dawning the same cloak as Kato, for reasons he did not know. Kato’s reasons were clear, his kind was not welcome. The True Born were universally hated by most of the races in Nikota for this reason or that, it did not matter to him, but for his safety he must remain hidden. Zyra on the other hand, he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was a human in a human city wearing human clothes and the like, she had no reason to hide herself, at least, not to Kato’s knowledge. “Remember what I told you Kato.” Zyra forewarned “I know I know, keep out of sight, survey the area, find weaknesses in the perimeter of the castle. You don’t haveta tell me again.” Kato had recited these conditions ever since they laid their eyes on Demora, the capital city of the Abilin Empire. Day in and day out Kato had been drilled over their objective, to find the first key to the lost city, the city of the True Born. Their objective was clear, their rules clear, what wasn’t clear was why Zyra didn’t seem to have any faith in Kato’s abilities. It was something that nagged deep in the back of his mind, but whenever it surfaced he quickly put it at bay. Zyra had her reasons, be it known or unknown, she knew it what she was doing. “Heads up, we’re moving.” Zyra nodded to a large crowd of

market goes and proceed to embed herself as deep into the crowd as possible. Kato was not far behind, mirroring Zyra’s moves almost to a tee. But something caught the young True Born out of the corner of his eye. A young woman, no more than 30, was hunched over picking up what looked like a dozen or so red orr berries, similar to the ones he used to pick back home. Kato immediately changed pace towards the woman on the ground, it was almost as if he couldn’t control himself. His mind screamed at him to turn around, to keep by Zyra’s commands, but his body didn’t listen. He couldn’t determine why exactly he was drawn towards her, even when everything logical told him no, his body pushed on. What's more, nobody seemed to bat an eye at this woman, he couldn’t put it too exact thoughts but something just seemed off about that. It wasn’t long after that he was standing not even a foot away from her, she didn’t even lift her head at him before she spoke. “Why hello Kato, so nice of you to finally take notice of me.” Kato was taken aback. How could she possibly know his name? He hadn’t spoken, or even looked at for that matter, anyone besides Zyra since he entered the city. He hadn’t looked at anyone, but her. She was the only one who stood out to him in a sea of faces. Why? Before Kato could finish he thoughts Zyra had jerked him behind her. “Stay back Kato, she’s a psychic user.” “My, my, I didn’t expect you of all people to dabble in the aetherial arts Zyra. I must admit, with all the

limitless capabilities psychic magic has, the one thing, the one limitation, is that I will never know what my targets magic type is by sifting through their mind.” She stood up and placed one had on Zyra’s chin, forcing Zyra to loop up towards the mysterious woman. “That is, until I get a look at those beautiful eyes, those dark jet-black eyes, the mark of an aetherial user. Ah, your red pupils signify used to be a fire mage before you spoke your first aetherial word. Tell me, why did you decide to mark yourself Zyra?” Zyra swatted the woman's hand away from her as if she was an annoying insect “That’s not for you to know psychic user.” A satisfied smirk was plastered on the psychics face, but despite the toying that she was doing, it was quite clear that she had a reason for being there. But there was one question that Kato just couldn’t shake. “But psychic magic falls under the branch of aetherial magic, how are your eyes normal?” “Oh, how rude of me. Sometimes I forget to take off my camouflage.” The psychic’s skin flickered into a pale sky blue from her peach colored skin, her eyes, once a beautiful jade-green became jet-black and her pupils retained the color her irises once had. She was, by all means, a True Born. Kato’s eyes quickly darted to the ongoing crowed, but again, no one payed mind to this transformed True Born, almost the size of himself. “There, does that answer your question? Good. Now, on to more important matters. You arrived in Demora with the intention of stealing one of the keys to the lost True Born city, correct?” Zyra remained silent, her gaze placed in no clear direction. Kato on the other hand was beaming with all sorts of questions. “I’m a psychic Kato, I can read minds, especially weak minds like yours.” Kato ignored that. “But how did you —” “It’s my business to know who comes in and out of Demora, especially those whom the Confederacy are interested in.”

“The confe—” “A secretly organized True Born government which has taken roots in the neutral region.” “Okay this interrupting business is gonna haveta stop.” The psychic sighed “I suppose it’s rather rude, but if your done with your childish inquiries do you want into the castle or not?” Zyra’s head perked up, her eyes finally attentive to the person in front of her. “Now you have my attention, psychic.” her voice full of disdain. “My, I do wish you don’t refer to me in such a disgusting manner, besides my name is Luna, try that out won’t you?” “Fine, Luna” Her tone remaining on par with her previous statement. Luna let out a deep sigh

Zyra remained silent, her gaze placed in no clear direction. Kato on the other hand was beaming with all sorts of questions. “I suppose that’s good enough” “How do you intend on getting us into the castle?” Kato piped in. “As chief administrator of the Abilin Empire, I know the ins and outs of the castle. In other words, I can lead you through a secret passage.” Zyra’s eyes grew noticeably wide “You’re Luna Coldguard? Chief administrator, right hand to the King of Abilin, and you’re a spy for the True Born? How is this possible?” “Years upon years of deep infiltration, and I’m not the only one, there are hundreds to True Born sleeper agents within the Empire and the Elven Contingency. But that is neither here nor there. Our goddess Aeternum and by default the confederacy has taken an interest in you Kato. Will you answer her

call?” “But why me?” The young True Born had the faintest sense of fear in his eyes. The fear commonly associated with that of the inability to live up to one's expectations, and to live up to the expectations of a goddess, is a near impossible feat in his eyes. “That is for you and Aeternum to discuss, if you make it to the lost city. But first things first. You’re going to need this young Kato.” Luna handed him what appeared to be an ordinary book. No inscriptions, no discernable markings, there wasn’t even a title on the book. It was by definition, plain.

Push the third Brick to the left of the lamp. Zyra made a reach for the book to make an exception of her own but was quickly swatted away by Luna. Zyra shot Luna an intense glare before returning to her previous position. “This book is for the eyes of Kato only.” She remarked “But what is it?” Kato inquired “It’s a PsyScribe. A book infused with psychic magic which allows for books who are linked within the same frequency to communicate instantly from anywhere on Nikota. I’ll be using this to direct you to the correct area of the castle” “Why can’t you just tell us where the lost city is and save us the trek across Nikota to assemble the keys? Zyra butted in. “All True Born agents are wiped of their memories of the lost city and how to return, so if any of us are exposed they’ll get little information on it. Hell, they don’t even know that an ancient relic from the Eternal War is one of the keys to the lost city.” Zyra still remained unconvinced. Her instincts told her to kill her where she stood, but her mind told her to see through this plan of hers.

“How can we trust you?” “I’ll answer your question with a question. Why, on Aeternum’s graces, would I ever intentionally assist the filth that is the human race? Who solely eradicated half of the True Born population in conjunction with those damn elves. Who toppled the once great Republic of Vinar just for being neutral in the Eternal War. Not in my life time will I ever help such a disgusting excuse for a race. If I had my way I would kill you where you stand, but you serve a purpose now, pray you continue to serve a purpose.” Zyra surprisingly looked unshaken. Kato on the other hand was shaken. Luna’s words were powerful, they echoed in his mind, but he knew it wasn’t because she was manipulating his mind to view it so. Her ideals and thus her voice were powerful, that was what had shaken him. He had never met someone so devoted to a single ideology, to a single thought in his life. It was, a feeling he didn’t quite know how to handle. “Very well, though I do wish you didn’t lump me, or many of the good people with the rest.” “One bad apple spoils the bunch, don’t you agree?” Zyra didn’t answer that. “I’ll meet you both at sundown. Don’t be late.” Luna muttered an indecipherable phrase and she vanished. Kato suspected that it was this same spell that caused the rest of the passersby to not notice the True Born. Zyra said nothing, instead nodding towards a passing crowd. Kato understood, and followed suite. It was half past six when Kato felt the indistinguishable feeling of a pen scribbling on paper in his bag. Upon further inspection it was the PsyScribe gifted to him by Luna making the noise. When he opened the book he found a neatly written message in common cursive on the first page. It read: South side, city lamp. Kato vigorously shook Zyra awake, who had been sleeping ever since they reached their room at the inn. Her hood fallen off her head as she rose from her slumber,

revealing her baby face features. Her russett, reddish-brown, skin glimmered in the dim light from the mana powered lamps. Her shoulder length, amber brown hair, with bangs combed to the side, was somewhat frizzy from the humidity in the air. Despite that she was undeniably beautiful, though Kato refused to admit that to himself. “Okay okay I’m up. What did Luna say?” Her voice still groggy “South side, city lamp. That’s all it said.” “Well I hope there’s only one city lamp.” She quickly jumped up from her resting place walked out the door along with Kato. The once bustling city of Demora had slowed to a crawl. Seldom were there people out in the streets aside from guard patrols and the occasional person on a stroll. It was all fairly erie for Kato as around this time people were still out and about back home, even though his hometown was much smaller than Demora. “Where is everyone?” “Sundown mass. They go to the church of Hominum to pray to their god who was taken away from them. I used to have to go to these too and let me tell you, they were a bore.” Kato let out a small chuckle at the remark. The city buildings were glowing a faint orange-red from the mana crystals lining the streets. Despite the eerie emptiness the city brought about at sundown, the lamps lining the paths every so often provided a surprising amount of warmth and security to Kato. Before them stood a lone lamp in an otherwise barren portion of the southern wall. A faint scribbling could be felt in his bag once they approached the lamp. Great, now push the third brick to the left from the lamp Kato looked around to see where Luna could be watching them but no such luck. “She’s probably invisible somewhere” Thought Kato Like clockwork, upon pushing the third brick to the left from the lamp, certain bricks to the left of him fashioned

themselves into a makeshift door which opened upon an easy push. The book scribbled once again upon the opening of the door. Second left, watch for Svidrig Kato relayed the info to Zyra as she took the lead. The passage was remarkably well kept, either due to luck or this isn’t a frequented area of the castle. Zyra paused in front of a latch and eyed it for a moment. “If we end up in combat, remember the few training sessions I taught you. Use your magic to get the edge on your opponent and cut them down with your rapier.” Zyra’s tone was firm and serious, more so than Kato had ever heard. He tensed up at these words, his once calm demeanor was replaced with an acute sense of fear. A knot formulated in his stomach and his arms felt surprisingly heavy. But he did his best to steel his resolve and gave an uncertain nod. “You’ll be fine.” Zyra pulled the latch to reveal a sickly old man grabbing books off of what was once a bookshelf, who Kato assumed to be none other than Svidrig. “Bad luck.” Kato muttered to himself Zyra was the first to act. “Kato, magic, now!” She barked Kato snapped out of his daze, focusing on the man in front of him. He concentrated, imagining a violent gust of wind capable of throwing any man off his feet. His eyes glowed a powerful white as the gust materialized from his right hand. Svidrig was thrown violently across the room, though before he made an impact a pillar of dirt raised from the floor, softening as his body made contact. He was completely unharmed. His wrinkled face didn’t even look phased. It was clear that Svidrig had been through much in his life, and this was not even the worst of it. “Well, if you’ve come to kill me, please do not hold back. It would be a shame if I were to dispose of such flies without a fight.” Svidrig taunted Zyra muttered the summoner's words that Kato had grown all too accustomed to. In both of her hands appeared aura

like jagged swords radiating a faint purple mist. “Don’t flatter yourself old man, we’re here for the key.” Zyra darted towards Svidrig with all the speed she could muster. But it wasn’t enough, before she could close the distance with her swords, multiple earth pillars arose from the ground, blocking her path. From these earth pillars splintered off dozens of small spherical pieces of dirt which hardened to a sharp point. Zyra attempted to dogged as many as she could however, she one of them caught her in the calf. Kato freaked at the sight of Zyra getting hit. He didn’t know what to do, should he charge in like Zyra, or will he only get in the way? The words you’ll be fine echoed through his mind. You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. Kato drew his rapier and concentrated. The world grew slower, calmer, while in reality his movements sped up, quicker than most can process. Kato ran forward eyeing the battle in front of him. Zyra was backing off towards a table for cover while Svidrig conjured up more shards of rock to thrust Zyra’s way. Kato was terrified, immeasurably so, but none of that mattered to him. His immense fear for his life pales in comparison to the protective instincts he has for those he cares about. In that sense Kato was as crazy as someone willing to take on the gods themselves. Kato closed the distance with Svidrig, all the while he hadn’t taken notice of him. But Kato hesitated, where should he strike? If he tries to just disable him he could fail and blow his one chance at ending the battle. “No, killing them is out of the question. I can’t. I won’t” Kato thought to himself. But it was in this momentary hesitation that Svidrig noticed Kato, if ever so slightly. Without turning his head he turned his left hand towards Kato. What erupted from his hand dumbfounded both Kato and Zyra. It was water. It wasn’t the prospect of water magic that dumbfounded them, but rather that neither of them had met, let alone knew about the possibility of heterochromatic mages. This new prospect broke Kato’s concentration, thus putting his body back to normal speed. He was sent flying back by the intense water jet that was produced by Svidrig’s left hand. His body churned as he felt chunks of skin rip away from his body. Luckily for him his

clothing had endured the brunt of the assault. But he knew very well that if it wasn't for that there would be a much larger hole in his abdomen. “Insolent boy! How dare you try such a cheap trick on me!” Svidrig spat on the ground. “I expect nothing less from a blue skin.” This was just the opening Zyra needed. Despite her injured leg she sprinted as if it was better than ever. She used one of the earth pillars to propel herself towards Svidrig. Her sword landed just where she intended, the vulnerable neck area. The force from the jump was enough to decapitate him completely, splattering blood all over Kato and Zyra as she landed with a hard thud on the floor. Kato made his best attempt not to look at the disembodied head as it rolled across the room. Kato laid there for a long while, contemplating the choices he made. “Why did I hesitate? I could’ve ended it right then and there. But could I have? What if I missed? What if I didn’t have the resolve to end a man? Can I live with the guild that comes with ending a life?” Kato’s thoughts were interrupted by a hand, Zyra’s hand. In his daze she had already acquired the key, one half of a shattered plate. Kato looked into Zyra’s face to see a physically drained girl, but she kept pushing on. Kato grabbed her hand and was lifted up, her pull much weaker than he’s normally used to. “You did great Kato.” He placed her arm around him to support her injured leg “Thanks, but I didn’t do anything.” “You did more than you know.” As the two hobbled out through the secret passage, Luna arose from her spot in the far corner from all the fighting, maintaining her invisibility. In her hand were notes jotted down of the battle, specifically notes on Kato’s behavior. “You’re not quite ready yet young one. But you just might make it.”

Student Name Here The sunrises another day on Phoenix Island; An Island with melancholic vibe harboring a small easy town named Kakapo. Through the top window of a house built into an impressively sized hollow tree, a young man slumped forward on his desk, staring with tired eyes out the window in front of him, his large dark wings drooped, and his longest feathers lied on the wooden floor beneath him. His cheek rested on the pages of an open book, the hours of reading finally taking its toll on him. All the books he’d been reading were of the history of aviors; A species of humans with bird-like features, most notably their wings and tail feathers. This young man was Avery, one such avior, who turned to studying them by book since the island had very few, in fact, he only knew one; A young woman named Fae, his closest friend on the island. Avery felt the need to be close to his kind, having been abandoned on this grey island as a child, old enough to remember, but young enough to not do anything about it. The vivid memory of his helplessness and deep confusion were the only things keeping his eyes open now. “Avery!” His adoptive father, Husk, calling his name from downstairs filled him with annoyance, suddenly snapping his eyes shut, just hoping that when he opened his eyes, Husk would be gone. The few beats of silence brought comfort to him. “Avery!” His father called again. “What could he possible want at this time?” Avery thought to himself, rising from his desk, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor and his wings drooping to the floor as he trudged downstairs.

Avery was able to make out the figure that was his father waiting for him. “Avery, I-,” his father stopped as quickly as he started and stared at Avery sternly. “Did you sleep last night, Avery?” A question that would’ve sounded so gentle and caring if asked by his mother, sounded harsh and troubling from his father. He didn’t realize that Husk would notice his low, ruffled feathers and dark, lidded eyes. Avery didn’t know whether to tell the truth to him, “uhhhh….” He didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he was interrupted by a loud disappointed sigh. “Just go out to the fields, pick some herbs and bring ‘em back.” Husk was about to turn around to head back to sleep, until Avery spoke up. “Why now?” Husk slowly turned his head to his winged son and ordered again softly. “Just go.” But Avery persisted. “Why so early? And besides, couldn’t you just go yourself” “Go. Now.” Husk shouted over his son’s questions. Avery jumped from his volume, then his face softened back to its tired, blank state and headed towards the front door to follow his father’s orders. As Husk walked back to his room, he mumbled under his breath, but it remained loud enough for Avery to hear and pause in his tracks. “Go and make yourself useful for once.” If it was even possible, Avery’s feathers drooped lower and he left the house. The fields that Husk was talking about were around a thirty-minute walk away, but at the rate Avery was walking, it’d be around a forty-five minutes to get there.

I’m going to Hou-ou Island...

His slow pace was influenced by his father’s harsh words, the desire to say away from his home for as long as possible, and his overall lack of energy to go faster. As the sun rose farther from the horizon, more civilians became active and so were the islands animals, the birds chirping in the trees around him. Watching the slow town gradually come to life was peaceful, but oddly enough, Avery’s drained mind wandered elsewhere. He began to dwell on why he was out here; to gather herbs used for medicine for his father. Husk had gotten into making and selling medical potions around seven years ago when his wife, Tia, passed away from illness. Husk had always been a cold, angry man but Tia’s rays of light seemed to warm him. She was the one who found Avery when he was abandoned, she loved and protected him with all her heart, even giving him a small locket with a photo of the two of them inside to remind him that she was always near. Husk had been distant from the start, but now that Tia was gone, each day with him became tenser. Avery summoned the strength to walk faster, if this trip was about being alone with his thoughts, then he wanted to get it over with, even if it meant going back home. Without realizing it, Avery had drawn up his locket from underneath his dress shirt and held it tightly. He still had around ten more minutes until he got to the field, so he could struggle to get back home. It wasn’t long until he saw two large wings behind an old tree. Avery’s mood lifted along with his feathers and trotted towards the tree, forgetting about his lack of sleep. He settled onto his knees beside Fae, her wings were a striking, yet not overwhelming, bright red which was decorated with touches of green, blue, and yellow feathers. The rising sun left a soft glow on her short, matching red hair, pale skin, and slightly-hooked nose. Her attention was fixed onto the novel in her lap. Fae pulled her focus onto her friend, “Oh, good morning, Avery. You’re up early.” She kept her eyes on him and

let out a quiet gasp. “Avery, you look awful! What happened?” “I didn’t sleep last night…” Avery didn’t take offense from Fae’s reaction, he knew he looked bad and didn’t need to be told for him to believe it. “…and I need to pick some herbs for my dad from the field.” Avery said through a yawn. Fae couldn’t stand the sight of his dark eyes, low wings, and dark hair mangled out of its usual clean upward swoop. Such an off-putting look for such a neat young man like Avery and Fae knew how Husk mistreats and overworks him, today was going to be unbearable for him. “Aww, I’ll do that for you, Avery. You just relax and take a nap right here.” Fae spoke in a comforting voice and pat the grass beside her. “Oh, alright. Thank you, Fae.” He sulked onto his side and curled up under the oak tree, the sun high enough to warm him up. “Sleep well.” She smiled and pinched his cheek, left her novel beside him, and went off. Avery never understood why she’d care about him so much, he was always given the impression that he didn’t deserve it, but it still meant so much to him. Avery watched as Fae walked farther away from him and felt his eyelids become heavier, until they shut for good. Avery awoke with his head lying on her Fae’s lap, her nose back to her novel. He stared at the sky for a bit, it was noon now. “How long was I asleep?” The hoarseness of his voice almost shocked him. “Hmmm, a couple hours, I’d say five. I picked those herbs for you.” Fae lifted a small pouch for Avery to see, never taking her eyes off the book’s pages. “If you got it, why didn’t you wake me up?” Avery sat up and began running his hands through his hair in an attempt to fix it. Fae put her book down and shot a glare at him. “Avery, you were running on zero sleep and I know the moment you get home Husk is going to start ordering you around nonstop! You need as much

sleep as you can get.” She put her hand on his shoulder. Avery kept his eyes on her, anxiety build in his chest and he took a deep breath. “Fae…I’m planning on leaving this island.” Avery admitted, and Fae slowly took her hand off his shoulder. “Leaving? Where do you plan on going?” She was surprised at his confession, but understood why he’d want to leave, and she was going to support him nonetheless, putting on a warm smile for him. “I’m going to Hou-ou Island, it’s this huge island not too far from here and there’s a lot of aviors there, a whole lot of history, too.” A rare smile grew on Avery’s face, joyous from the thought of finally being free from his father’s mistreatment and being close to his kind. “I just turned twenty and it’s not like my dad would try and stop me.” Fae smiled to Avery, who was grinning like a child at this point. “You know, you’ve been more confident lately, is this why?” “I guess so, I mean, I haven’t been this excited in forever. I’m just waiting for the right moment to leave.” Avery began to look off into the distance, Fae leaned on his shoulder, bringing him back from wherever his mind wandered off to. “You know, I’ve been thinking about going there, too. Maybe we’ll meet there eventually.” Her wings perked a little. Truth was, she didn’t think about moving there until just now. “You know what, I’m going to sleep here a little longer.” Avery lied back against the tree with his arms behind his head while Fae let out a giggle. By the time Avery woke up it was near sunset, he had already said goodnight to Fae and was walking home with his pouch of herbs and a faint smile on his face. Avery opened his front door and entered, but before he could close it, he heard Husk behind him. “Well Finally!” He yelled. “Who the hell do you think you are? Making me wait all damn day!” He snatched the pouch from Avery and shoved him, wiping his smile away entirely. “Do you really think you’re that important?

Because you’re not!” Husk was yelling directly in his face now. He continued to insult his son. “I give you one simple task and you can’t even handle that?!” Avery felt his eyes start to water. “Oh, go ahead and cry like you always do- “ “Shut up.” Avery interrupted him. Husk went silent. “What did you just say to me?” Husk asked in a hoarse, menacing tone. “I said shut up!” Avery shouted to him louder. “Does talking down to me make you feel better about your own sad, miserable life?!” Deep down in Avery’s anger, he felt triumph. “You ungrateful…” Husk eyed Avery’s locket. “You don’t deserve that!” He reached to snatch it from around his neck. “Hey, stop it! Don’t touch that!” Avery grabbed Husk’s hand, held his shoulder, and pushed him away, causing him to fall onto his back on the wooden floor. Husk was left in a daze. Avery clutched his locket close to his chest. “If only mom could see you now, how she could ever love someone like you is beyond me!” Avery opened the front door. “You were never my father and you never will be!” He stormed out of the house and slammed the door shut, leaving Husk alone like how he had made Avery feel. He ran to the highest point of the island; A hill not too far east of his old home. His mind was racing, how he stood up to Husk and how he’s leaving it all behind to start a new life, he couldn’t believe it. Avery grinned as he made it to the top of the hill and spread his dark wings, the winds of the night blew through his feathers. He took a deep breath, smiled and began flapping his wings before he launched himself into the air. Avery kept his locket close to his heart as he flew away from the island he was deserted on all those years ago. He should arrive at Hou-ou before sunrise. At last, Avery finally felt free, he could live his own life now. Although, he dearly hoped he’d run into Fae in the near future.

Nathalie Pena He stood in front of an aluminum sheet admiring his own features. He was proud of his looks for he put work into making them nice. His face was chiseled, and his torso was composed of strengthened abs. His biceps were defined. His hair did not quite match the image he tried to portray. It was a mullet hairstyle, puffy and not epic. His eyes sparkled, and he was in a point in time that made him feel alive. That could be seen from his cornea. He was milk white, which was a rarity on the English island he lived on. He rapidly changed his view once a man tapped his shoulder, “Roland, get back to work.” His reflexes had been fast since he was forced into the militia. Roland was ranked officer cadet. Had he put effort in, he may have been promoted. He was lean, but strong. He was well coordinated and could handle a shotgun with great stability. He had always worked out. He and his friends built a gym in the yard of his house before he even took the job he had now. Roland shook his head and gave it a slight slap. He was still drowsy from last night. He grabbed the aluminum sheet and carried it to a podium where he would cut it and sculpt something from it. He looked at his hands. He remembered the time bits of iron pierced into his tender skin and found a home in his flesh. The filings were still there. They made his middle finger look like it was covered in specks of slate. He rubbed it and noticed his boss was gazing at him. Roland got back to

work. Life was much simpler back then. There was schoolwork, but it did not compare to actual work. Roland did not even do that. He would walk two miles to school every day only to skip it. He ran into fields of mangoes and stole the fruit of other farmers. He and his friends jumped into an opaque canal. The spot was more of a lake and because of its shape earned the name, “The Donkey.” Roland never liked being held back. He liked living in the moment...living free. Maybe it was why he picked up his hobby. Every day, he went home to his birds. He would observe them. Roland knew the way the wings worked, how they always went in flocks or looked for another companion, but mostly he admired their freedom and loyalty. Anytime he let them go, they always found their way back or died trying to. One way or the other, they had time in between the flights back where they would just let go. They flew in grace. The sun went down. It met the horizon and created a bright yellow hue that scattered across the sky. Roland walked home and when he got there, he saw his mother crying. “What’s the matter?!” he questioned. She wiped the tears, "Do not leave Roland.” A beautiful petite woman came out from the hall. Her hair was brunette and wild with curls. Her eyes looked like pools of honey. It was Ella Rodrigo. She was Roland’s first and only love. His heart ached at the

sight of her for they went separate ways and she found another lover. “What are you doing here? Why is my mother upset?” Roland interrogated. Ella glanced at Ci-ci and scoffed internally. Then, she smiled at Roland, “I am leaving the country and I came to tell your mother, but she declined my request to see you. I assumed you were working, so I came back. I told her to ask if you would tag along and I knew you would.” He looked at his mother. Were they crocodile tears? Roland knew his mother cared for him, but she had an odd way of showing it. Sometimes, it was completely unnoticeable. He motioned his eyes towards Ella. Ella always knew what she wanted and found a way to attain it. She rubbed it off on him. It was time Roland left the disgusting country he lived in. It was time to find his freedom. “I am going,” he said, hugging his mom before he walked out the door. Roland and Ella walked together until they reached a secluded part of the island near the oil wells by the ocean. They met a group of people on the seashore. There were four people: Ella’s cousins Richard and Renatus, her husband, John, and his sister. Jealousy cruised through Roland’s veins, but he did not say anything. He was a quite fellow who only showed his emotions if he was severely hurt or enraged. Richard had been Roland’s friend since childbirth. He noticed something was bothering him, “What’s wrong?” “I miss her, Richie. Our families started rumors. They are what split us up. My own parents mingled. I know that now,” Roland sighed.

Richie nodded, “You will win her back, don’t worry. Right now, we have a bigger picture to focus on; we need to build something to get out of here.” Roland peered at the materials on the pebbled ground. It was ideal to construct a raft out of. There were long pieces of dry plywood alongside a bunch of inflatable donut-shaped objects. Renatus left to buy some rope. After they made the raft, someone came up with the brilliant idea of tying everyone together. That way, if one person fell, every other person would shift too. No one was going to be left behind. Ella’s father was a fisherman, so she knew how to tell where the lot were going. The quest was to reach the New World. England was going hectic and being Catholics, they had to flee. There was no place for them. They were outcasted and excommunicated. The men and women found places around the raft. They all pulled it into the ocean. If they were caught, it would have been punishable by death or incarceration. No one was allowed to leave the island. It was a strict society and not one any of them wanted to live in anymore. Ella put her hand to the starspangled sky,” We have to go north east on the windward side.” “On it,” assured Roland and Richard. It took three days and two nights of hurling waves pounding and splashing on them. It was a tempest journey. The group could see sharks circling them. It called for nerve-wracking feelings and knots at the throat. They did not think they would make it out alive. Nevertheless, they all took a chance.

“Look! Look! A ship is coming our way,” exclaimed John, kissing Ella. Everyone that was deep in slumber awoke. Roland started signaling the captain, secretly wincing at the thought of Ella kissing another man. He ignored it. Soon enough, they all threw their hand in the air and waved them with power. The boat picked them up and took them to the shore. When Roland’s feet touched the ground, they wobbled and then he found himself on the sandy beach. The grains were nothing like on his island; it was darker. They made it!

I miss her, Richie. Our families started rumors. They are what split us up. He puckered his drained lips and kissed the sand. The dehydration did not overwhelm the fact he made it. He got up and twirled with his hands high like a bird in flight. He was free. “¿Señor, necesitas ayuda?" expressed one of the sailors from the ship. The foreign language made Roland quizzical. Where did they land? Years passed, and the group learned they made it to Florida. It was Spanish territory. They lived in a big town and worked for an oil company. They just packaged and distributed the oils. They made sure the labels were printed right, stamped it onto the box, and called it a day.

Ella quit for she gave birth to John Charles Cap Jr. She divorced his father. It seemed that wherever she went, the family of her lover would never accept her. The fire between her and Roland ignited once again. His family, he knew, did not agree. They did not want him to marry a woman with another man’s child. However, when you raise a child since its birth, it does not matter whether it is your own. At least, that is how Roland saw it. Two years after John Charles Jr. was born, another addition was added to the family. Her name was Hecate Clifton. When she was born, it was time to find a new, bigger home. Roland began searching for a job. He became a construction worker. It was another one of his passions. He was not smart in school. He did not even make it pass grade school. The re was so met hi ng a bo ut architecture he could just capture in an instant. He could mix-and-match shapes until they became figures. Ella stayed home, walked the kids to their schoolhouse, cleaned, and cooked. She became very dedicated to her family. Besides wanting to pursue her religion, Ella wanted to start a family in the New World. She vowed never to have children in England. Eight years later, she married Roland again. They went to England and married each other in front of Roland’s Christian parents. It would always be a silent feud between them. That very year, another little girl was born. Her name was Noelle Clifton. Eight years later and Guinevere Clifton came about. Years passed until finally Roland reached 50. He trudged to his mirror and realized how much he

had changed. The ginger hair that once glistened and fell below his neck turned dark auburn. It seemed his hair found a way to defy gravity. He noticed his eyes were the same- blue-green and lively. It was underneath them any person could spot his insomnia. His face was no longer clear and fair. It had folds and was freckled, tinted red and scorched by the sun. He stared at himself continuously and memories overwhelmed his mind. He remembered a phrase a sailor told him the day he came to Florida. It was, “Ahora eres tan libre como un pájaro. Abre tus alas y vuela.” In other words,’ Now you are as free as a bird. Open your wings and fly.’ Roland took his flight and his wings were damaged at the moment, but nevertheless he still flew.

Angelina Tuccillo Sani settled down for the night, going through the motions of his nightly routine until he took up his place at the kitchen sink. He robotically washed the dishes that had been soaking that day, as he peered out of the window just above the sink. From the window, he couldn't see much. The porch lights extended his field of vision by a few feet, the rest of the New Mexican ranch was shrouded in a dark curtain of night. The dark had rarely troubled Sani, even as a child, but at the moment the dark felt menacing and occupied. The weight of attention hung on his shoulders. What Sani felt was an irrational fear took over him. Maybe, just hidden in the shelter of the night, was someone, or something, waiting for him. The hair on his neck prickled up and gooseflesh raced up and down his arms. He moved to close the curtain of the kitchen window, but stopped short. If he closed the curtain, it would be a physical and real manifestation of his fear, he would be admitting in the real world that he really did fear that something lied in wait for him. The curtain was kept close. Soon after he made his way to his bedroom and feel into an uneasy light sleep. The dream was of a memory, it was and old one, but it was good. A Sani in his early twenties sat in the passenger seat of a pickup truck. In the driver's seat was Tahoma, Sani’s best friend who was the closest thing he had to a brother. Tahoma’s little brother, Ashkii, was in the open truck bed. Tahoma looked prideful. He spent years fixing the old truck up and he had finished the project just that night. “If I could do this…” Tahoma gestured to the truck all around him “For the rest of my life I would.” He went on and on about the process of fixing the truck, how challenging, but rewarding it was. “But it isn't enough.” Tahoma said.

“I wanna make my own cars, I don’t just want to fix up old ones, I want to make new one. I want you to be able to walk into a dealership and see Tahoma Peshlaki’s cars.” His eyes were bright and vivid with the prospect of his dream. It wasn’t a secret Tahoma wanted to leave. He didn’t want to settle on being a farmer for the rest of his life, and he made sure his parents knew. He wasn’t a bad son though he always made sure he helped around and he was kind to his mother and father, but he was at odds with them when it came to his future. His family had owned the farm for generations, it was their livelihoods. It didn’t help that Ashkii wanted to follow in his brother’s footsteps. If the two brothers left the farm, it would have to be abandoned or sold to another family, which Tahoma’s parents absolutely did not want. Nevertheless, Tahoma continued to fight his parents about his future. Sani moved to respond to Tahoma, but was overwhelmed with the smell of sorghum, rising in the car was a mountain of the grain. Sani tried to reach out to his friend, but was swallowed by the sea of sorghum. Sani woke up, hyperventilating from his nightmare. He padded over to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and rose the shaking glass to his lips. The curtain was pulled back and Sani got the same anxious feeling from before. This time a coyote stood in the light emitting from the porch. The animal wasn’t moving and didn’t seem to be acting quite normally. Despite the fact that the animal made him feel uneasy, Sani studied it closer. The coyote seemed to have abnormally tall hind legs, they were longer than its front legs. The eyes were strange as well. They seemed much too aware, much too human. This time Sani

did close the curtain over the window. Only to keep the light from the porch from coming in, nothing more. Sani thought to himself. If the coyote was still waiting, it would be a chore for the morning. Sani walked over to his room and once again descended into his light rest. The dream was another memory, this one not quite as pleasant as the last. Sani was helping Tahoma out with some tasks that was given to him while his parents went into town with Ashkii for supplies. The two were completing the mundane chore of moving boxes of records from the attic to the small home office for sorting later on. The conversation had eventually drifted to a talk that Tahoma and his parents had the night before, “...and they had the nerve to say that I didn’t care about the family!” Tahoma exclaimed. Sani set down a particularly heavy box so he could listen closer. “I mean is it so bad too dream a little? Not everyone wants to spend their whole life on a farm in the middle of a desert!” Tahoma threw his hands up, he had worked up his temper and he was pacing around, obviously on edge. “ I mean…” Sani thought of the right thing to say. “ I think they're just scared Tahoma, you and Ashkii are their only children. Without someone to tend to the farm the tradition will probably be over for good, in your family at least.” Tahoma rubbed his face with his hands and grabbed his hair pulling a bit, his eyebrows knitted together and Sani could see he was trembling a bit. “Not you too Sani, I-” “I never said that i didn’t think you should be able to leave, I still support your decision I’m just saying that I think you could be a little more sympathetic.” “I AM SYMPATHETIC! I get it! I just wish they'd be a little more sympathetic towards me! And I wish they'd stop looking at me like that.” Tahoma cried. “Like what?” Sani asked.

“The way you’re looking at me right now! Like I'm just some dumb kid that in over his head!” Tahoma pointed his finger at Sani. “ I don’t think that Tahoma.” Sani said. “Just... I'm gonna check on the Silos.” Tahoma slammed the door on his way out. The dream flashed forward. Sani saw himself running towards the silos, the giant storage containers they use to store grains. Sani hadn’t come back to the house and he wasn’t anywhere else on the farm, he surely didn't leave either because his truck was still in the garage. Then Sani remembered, after the disagreement “...I'm gonna check on the silos.” He opened the door of the hulking silo, w a d i n g through the sorghum like water. He dug through the grain with his h a n d s , frantically t h r o w i n g s o r g h u m behind him like a dog digging a hole to hide its bone. Then, he saw Tahoma’s limp body peeking up just above the sorghum. The dream flashed forward again. Ashkii was crying and screaming at him. “YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU KILLED HIM. IF YOU DIDN’T FIGHT, HE WOULD’VE NEVER GONE INTO THE SILO ON HIS OWN.” Ashkii thrashed against the hold of his father, clawing towards Sani. “I’LL KILL YOU.” The dream came to an abrupt end when Sani woke up, cold beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. The memories twisted a knife in his gut,

...the rational part of him knew that he could not have prevented his death

he was glad to be out of the nightmare, but the sun had not rose. Instead of going back to sleep, to avoid the nightmares, he opened his bedroom door to head over the living room to read for the rest of the night. The coyote was waiting there for him, in the doorway of his bedroom talking. “Why did you kill me Sani? Why did you have to be like all the rest?” The coyote mimicked Tahoma’s voice, it was made even more disturbing by the faint whistle and whine of the coyotes snarling and whimpering coming through when he voice got louder. “Tahoma?” Sani whispered. Was this really Tahoma? Did his spirit come back for revenge? Did Tahoma blame his death on Sani? The last question hurt. Sani knew, at least the rational part of him knew that he could not have prevented his death, but part of him had always blamed himself for Tahoma’s death. If he had done things differently, if he hadn’t been so inept, maybe Tahoma wouldn’t have suffocated in that silo. “I’m sorry Tahoma, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel like that i didn’t mean for you to die.” Sani pleaded. The coyote’s bones and muscles and skin warped and squirmed. The coyote was Tahoma after all. His brothers face turned toward him with such contempt that his chest ached. “It’s too late Sani.” Tahoma said,“ You already killed me, no apology will bring me back.” Tahoma grabbed Sani and threw him to the ground with an eerie sort of swift ease. Tahoma had a knife hidden in his belt and he had unsheathed it. Now on top of Sani Tahoma swiftly brought his knife down aiming for his chest. Mid-swing Tahoma changed, morphing into Ashkii’s face and body wearing a coyote pelt. “I TOLD YOU I’D KILL YOU!” The shifting between forms, the pelt. A memory came flooding back to Sani in the panic. “...I’LL KILL YOU!” Ashkii was a skinwalker. He had made a mistake revealing his identity, now that Sani knew the witches name he could get away, but that would mean killing Ashkii. But he had no time to consider any other options. Just as the knife was breaking through his skin he yelled the last syllable of Ashkii’s name. His grip weakened and he slumped backward. Ashkii looked up at Sani. He didn’t look like the monster he was before. He looked like Ashkii, Tahoma’s little brother, who had in turn became Sani’s little brother. Ashkii withered away into ashes, swept away by whatever divine wind had come from the door. “I’m sorry.” Sani couldn’t help saying goodbye, even if Ashkii had still hated him.

Connor Weeks The Ladle Inn had been met with indifference that night, near barren tonight as it has been for the last dozen moon cycles or so. Yet, the inn once knew prominence and success. Customers drawn in by the lure of a boiling pork stew blown over the entire village of Mintack, or simply the friendliness of the innkeeps, Borys, smile. One used to walk into the inn and relish the genuine oak that made up the large hut - with the exception of the brick that houses a now dead firepit - or the strings of floral decor that hung from the highest logs of oak that brought a wonderful smell to all within. And despite the unusual size of The Ladle, it could house no more than a dozen men without anymore spilling out the door. But most did not mind, those of the village of Mintack saw it as a part of its homely charm. All this splendor wasted. Now, not even four customers since daybreak had arrived at rest, much less stay. Only two remained, half drowned in Ladle ale. In fact, they would be needing refills very soon, given that the ale doesn’t consume them first. Huddled in a corner furthest away from the customers, but besides Borys, crouched a figure. Barely a silhouette could be seen by any customer, but what was visible did not give off the impression of a human, or even a humanoid. It couldn't be, with its uneven protrusions that could maybe be limbs of some creature, a hunch only seen in tales of witches and wise women, and hair that grew long in places most unsavory. Grunts and moans could be heard from time to time if silence took the room - which was a commonality these days. Yet, the most disturbing, distinguishable, and disgusting feature was the boils and blisters that invaded every inch of its skin, at least the parts

not covered by a bursting jerkin and undersized trouser, taking the pale of the creature and making it a hellish and sore red. It was a monstrosity, to say the least, but it is also the hero of our tale. “More ale on the table,” came a demanding voice that mixed with a whisper. It was Borys, owner of The Ladle, and master to the creature. “Go, now.” Borys didn’t even look down to see his servant abomination. The creature simply looked up, carefully, with its head still bowed before its master. It felt intimidated at the tall and surprisingly built man. A questioning look managed to make way on the creatures vexing face. A snarl found the innkeeps lips, which was almost veiled by a silver and thick bush. “They are too drunk to notice you, much less run out the front door at your site, creature.” Content with his master’s answer, the abomination of flesh and oozing puss took a tray with two pints of foaming ale to the table, where two men, half awake, joked of women and the many ways to “tame” them. One of them, at the site of the creature, shook his head and simply laughed, making notice of how many rounds of Ladle ale he has had before sweeping the pint from the tray and downing it. With both pints empty and both men knocked silly, the creature quickly scuttled back into his corner, relieved. Borys eyed him, or what the innkeeper had chosen to refer to as a “him”, a sneer now replaced the former snarl. The creature withdrew, it knew what was to come from its master. “For once, me sending you out to do your job hasn’t sent the population scurrying to Avanga knows where,” he said, sneer deepening and contempt boiling from his mouth. “And while she’s

at it, our mighty Lord could probably tell us what possessed me to take you, you abomination.” The creature had become accustomed to these words from its master. Cruel words on the verge of action most times and went beyond in more severe cases of what the creature could only assume to be justified. Its master always had good reason. The creature always made mistakes; it always drove people away with its appearance. “Maybe I should begin to weigh my options,” Borys continued. He spoke to himself, as if the creature was not before him, or could even understand him. “The promise of that Diviner isn’t worth the troubles this beast brings me now.” The creature cocked its head at that and watched as its master took his hands to his face, pulling and tugging to rid it of any fatigue. Then, he eyed the creature from an opening between his dirt coated fingers. It was a look of deep consideration. A look that weighed dark ideas. The creature knew this but did not understand why. Ringing came at the door, a sound that erased the look on Borys, and formed a new one of complete reputable friendliness. A customer had arrived at The Ladle for the first time since daybreak. The creature was taken aback, before it stood a figure that had to lower itself to enter the inn, revealing a coated arm of maroon red fabric as the newcomer entered. There this person stood, draped in a cloak darker than obsidian, yet outlined with golden twine in a floral pattern spanning its edges that nearly touched the ground. Not even the face of this newcomer could be seen as it

had been covered by the deep birth provided by his hood. All that was visible was a pair of maroon boots, equally priceless as the rest of this newcomer’s attire. The two drunks shot up to see the newcomer, rousey and barely conscious as they took in the figure before spitting at his feet and passing out, never to awake for the rest of the evening. Without acknowledgement from either this stranger or Borys, the large figure hunched its back before making way to the smiling, and secretly very gleeful, innkeeper. But the creature, despite its p r e v i o u s awestruck state, now plainly wore its dissuasion of the stranger on its face. It could see that despite what covered the stranger, large protrusions jutted from the cloak in places that gave off a solid build. “Hello, good traveler,” Borys said, nearly shouting. “How may I quench your thirst, or provide thee with rest?” The stranger stood, towering over the already tall Borys by about a head or more. The dark of where its face should have resided seemed to stare at Borys for a moment before shooting towards the creature. In return, the abomination jerked back and grunted, revealing ugly teeth and tar gums. Borys almost brought his warm smile to shambles as he looked at his creature. He even made to say something, possibly a justification, or an apology for the presence of the creature before this royal guess - or about as royal as Midtack could expect. The stranger then shot back to

It took effort for the creature to place the tray atop the table, but as it did it managed to look at the tall man and smile its ugly smile.

Borys and unveiled itself, revealing a rather handsome and young man. Strong features found themselves on this stranger’s face. A jaw that almost rounded into a rectangle, but instead ended into a point where a wide trail of fiery hair ran down from lip to chin. Eyes shown a deep blue and searching speed as it almost looked through Borys. Hair pulled back into a ponytail, much darker than what’s found on his chin, red like blood. But most of all, a smile deeper and more genuine than the one worn by Borys, revealing teeth whiter than any cloud. “They call me Zepherius, Innkeeper Borys,” Zepherious said, a smile and face that seemed to be expecting something. The smile on the innkeepers face finally fell as confusion took it over - a tinge of fear also present. “Wha- how do you...?” “Know your name?” Zepherious finished, his smile somehow widening. “Well, your inability to come to any reasonable conclusion makes my decision to come here well worth it.” Borys almost noticed the underlying remark before Zepherious continued. “Yes, I should prefer to have both ale and a place to rest. Do not be shy in providing me with the best of this fine establishment. I assure you, I can afford it and then some.” A smile found itself back onto the face of the innkeeper. “Best room and ale I can provide will be yours. Would you like me to bring you to your room? It awaits outside in the many huts near my inn; as you can see there is little room for a room in here.” “Good, why don’t you prepare it for me while I wait here with my drink,” Zepherious paused for a moment, considering something. “And, I do mean you. I would prefer that you personally, and not that which stands besides your counter, that prepares both for me.” Borys agreed with hands clasped and smile wide, yet the creature knew something bad awaited it while eyes were off the both of them. The innkeeper rushed out the door, yet somehow remained a formal posture as he left. Following him, mere moments after, were the two drunks, stumbling as they went, somehow still cognitive enough to recognize it best not be left with the newcomer alone. Zepherious scanned the hut, bowing to prevent himself from bumping the roof. His eyes flickered around with a grin still plastered on his face, as if he was forever reacting to a sly

joke. Finally, his eyes met that of the creature and his smile changed. It was still there, yet it somehow changed in intention, knowing and aware. The creature noticed; it’s master had forgot to provide their guest with his ale before making way to prepare for the room. The creature knew its master was only human, he didn't blame him as he must have been too happy to think properly, such a guest so wonderfully well off would excite any owner of an inn. Despite the feeling the creature felt at this stranger’s presence that shook it the bone, it would not fail its master. Determined, the creature broke its eyes away from this Zepherious and ran behind the counter, readying the best ale its master could make. It only ever watched its master make this ale once or twice before, but the creature made sure to memorize it upon the second time, in case its master ever needed help one day. How lucky the creature felt now? It did not know the names of what it gathered into the pint, only the shapes, sizes, colors and smell. Memorized in its head, yet it s t r u g gl e d in i ts preparation. It’s disproportionate limbs and short stature barely meeting the countertop provide a challenge for the creature. Before long, its limbs ached and its back was stiff, yet it pushed on, wanting to see its task through. Pain was no excuse, it never was. At last, it had finished. Sweat slid down its face as quick as any rain would during a storm. Its breath was rugged and quick, but it felt satisfied. It even shown a smile on its face. Or, at least what could pass for a smile with its face. It put the pint, full and heavy, on their best tray, dark oak with a smell of burnt wood upon it, outlined with silver metal. Then almost forgetting, the creature lay garnish on the tray, beside the pint. Tray in its mangled hands, the creature rounded the corner of the counter and stopped as it noticed for the first time that Zepherious watched, smile still alive, his eyes following the creature It ignored his look, approaching him as casual as possible, yet its heart began to palpitate. It arrived to the table, just barely meeting its surface. Zepherious, on the other hand, sat on a comparably small chair, looking

like a man who had decided to sit on a table for younglings barely old enough to walk. His hands were clasped, and his body jutted forward in anticipation. It took effort for the creature to place the tray atop the table, but as it did it managed to look at the tall man and smile its ugly smile. It then gurgled a sound, one that tried to mimic that of Borys when he would tell a customer to enjoy. In response, the man simply nodded, eyes and smile closed this time, tapping the drink before consumption. The creature turned at this, joy taking it from all over. It had succeeded, it“Excuse me, child,” a cheery voice called, the same that came from the man before. The creature rounded in surprise; a low sound came from it as it faced the man. He had finished half of the pint and now his back rested on the small chair, which barely looked like it supported half of his upper body. The creature almost thought it had made a mistake, if not for a smile still found on the man’s face. Wait, had he just said... child? “Ch-,” it struggled to repeat the word. “Chahld?” It’s deformed fingers struggling to point at itself. The creature could understand language, it picked up on common tongue over the last handful of years at the inn, but it was completely different to actually pronounce and use such from its lips. The man gave a small chuckle. “Yes, I am talking to you, child.” His voice was coated in honey, welcoming and engaging, attracting all who heard it to him. And so the creature stood, wary, yet calm before the man. “Come, come. I wish for you to sit with me,” the man waved a hand, ushering the creature onward to him. Yet there was no chair besides his own at the table. The creature looked down to confirm its thoughts, but there it was, a chair very similar to the one that held the man. The creature gaped, mouth and tongue hanging as it inspected the object. It had been sure there was only a single chair not even a few seconds ago.

Looking up, mouth still gaped into stupid confusion, it saw the man leaning forward, hands clasped to nearly conceal a devilish grin. Again, it managed to subtly be different than all his other smiles. “Go ahead,” he spoke through his hands. “As I said, you may sit. No need to hesitate because that buffoon ordered you to be so restricted in thought and action.” The creature wore its sadness plain on its face. He could not understand the complicated words the man used, but it was aware of the insult given to its master. Zepherious shifted, dropping his hands and sat straight. “I implore you, sit. I have much to discuss with you, boy.” He used that word again. Boy. Something to call a child. Something to call a human. Perplexed, the creature took the chair - which was still nearly too large for it - and plopped its awkward body onto it. This pleased the man. “Good,” he said. “Now I may dissect your brain a tad, little one.” For the first time that night, the man opened his cloak wide enough for one to peer into its contents. Before, only the basic inner color could be seen as the man moved and gestured. A deep and saturated silver that almost shone as bright as any gem. It almost swept up any shape or object that neared it into indistinguishable blurs that vexed the eyes if one looked too long. From this shade of a cloak the man grasped from within, his hand disappearing into the blinding void before it returned, a small flask in hand. Within, the creature spotted a brown liquid that seemed to attack its container as it lashed out from the center. Zepherious looked at it for a second before sliding it across the table for the monster to just barely catch. Zepherious laughed as the creature lept for it. “I had another in case your body failed you, boy.” He said it again, the creature

noticed, still referring to it as anything resembling human. It blinked. Before now, it rarely gave thought to what it was in comparison to those surrounding it. Most days its mind was blurred, with the exception of its masters wishes. One could not be shamed for believing this creature is utterly stupid as it spent its time drooling by its masters counter. “Now,” he said, and for the first time, his smile seemed to waver. “I want you to drink that.” At first, the man’s request was not comprehended by the creature. Drink? Why would it do that with such a disgusting substance within? It gurgled to the man, refusing. Zepherious simply sighed. “You need to drink it, little one. It is the only way to hold conversation with you.” His smile then returned. “Something has obviously happened to make you the way you are and I may have the time to revert whatever magic has grasped you. Now please, drink it before your master returns.” It didn’t completely understand him, it gaped at the flask in its hands, still boiling. “Ah!” Zepherious snapped his hands. “You don’t trust me, that’s it.” He chuckled. “I must apologize, sometimes I pass over the subtle, yet important details of social interactions. You may want to hear more about me before you down oozing black sludge just because I requested it of you. Well, I-” The creature popped the flask and downed its contents before the man could go on. It did not want to anger this man, and thus its master, so it was willing to consume this weird substance. Yet, before it could feel joyed at its obedience, the creature fell to the floor in rapturous howls. It contorted as a bolt of pain and agony fell down from within, starting from the entry of his mouth and spiraled down unto its stomach. The creature felt like it had consumed fury itself and now burned every inch it traveled. It remained in the stomach and began to expand, doing so until it bit into every cavity, bone and organ within the creature.

The heap of agony kicked and clawed at the ground as the assault continued. It screeched and flopped as short spikes took over and then returned to the constant wave of torture from within. The creature felt death on its lips and its head began to numb to both feeling and thought - or what little of thought as it was previously capable of. The pitiful figure looked up at the man, who stood tall and expressionless as it watched over the destruction it caused the abomination. As it stared, however, the man knelt and touch the creature across the cheek with his bare hands. Were his hands always bare? And as the single question existed in that moment, the pain evaporated, and its mind bloomed in thought and consideration. Awareness. Deeper awareness than previously known. No longer did its mind solely serve the innkeeper, Borys, but now gave way to curiosity. Curiosity at the fading pain. It birthed the fear and anger felt for the figure before it, smiling a kind smile now. But it also gave way to the comfort given by the touch of this man. The creature’s head then stung as one more thing came to it. A word. One not spoken in years, but of vast importance to the creature. “N-Natan,” it came, rugged yet comprehensible in a high and innocent pitch, and as the creature tasted the word in its mouth, it knew it belonged. “Natan!” “Ha-ha!” Zepherious shot his massive body to the ground to touch the creature once more, propping him up. “Yes, that is your name isn't it? Natan! Yes, beautiful. My hunch was correct.” “H-hanch?” Words came to Natan easier now than before, yet still carried an ignorance and unfamiliarity with it. “I, ah, Natan, hanch?” The man took to the line of hair at his chin with his fingers, stroking it as his brows furrowed and his eyes looked to the side. His smile turned to perplexity. “I see, so they must have worked on you when you were young, too young for proper education. Oh, you poor lad.”

Natan understood the words, even the emotion behind them - something lost to him for years - but he couldn't decipher why or what this man was implying. Zepherious returned his gaze to Natan. “You, how old are you, my boy?” How old? Natan hadn't considered such a thing like his age for so long now. He… he didn't know. Zepherious saw the confusion on the boys face. “Alright, different question, how long have you worked for Borys?” This, Natan could recall. He raised both mangled arms to reply, yet paused. His, his arms were so disturbed. Blisters, uneven hair, puss oozing from red fissures on his very own skin. The pain suddenly struck the boy like nothing he has ever known until now. But he did know, he has known for years now, but in this very moment he felt it as it was the first time. He struck up every finger on one hand in reply. “Ah, I see,” Zepherious nodded, seemingly glaring through Natan as he thought before speaking. “So, you are no older than 11, boy. And you have spent so much of your childhood subservient to a scoundrel that it angers me to have to see you waste your innocence here in a village at the edge of the viable world.” Still, the complex words flew by Natan, all except the ones used to insult his master. He struggled out of the man's hands, who did not defy Natan’s struggle. He growled as he faced the man down. “And he has built your mind to rely and respect him, probably the most tragic part of it all.” Genuine sadness seemed to fill the eyes of Zepherious. “ARGHH!” Natan replied with. “YYou, master a-apologize to!” the words didn't quite imply what Natan intended, but Zepherious understood. A ring then came from the door. Both Natan and Zepherious turned to see Borys enter the inn. His face, for a second, carried a look of worry on it before he noticed both Natan and Zepherious staring at him, giving pause to him and forcing him to stop midway through the inns door.

“Magster!” Natan looked past Zepherious with joy, but saw horror fill the innkeepers face. “Oh, bloody Magnesha!” Borys's body jerked and slammed into the door frame as he coward away from the two. “It talks! It bloody talks!” “Magster, Mashter!” Natan ignored his master’s reaction as it stumbled to him, a hideous smile on its gnarled face. “Away from me!” “Ma-” A hand slammed across the surface of Natan’s face and floored him before he could notice. A sharp pain birthed itself throughout his head as he lay on the ground. The pain even gave way to a few tears. “I said away, creature!” he went to swipe at Natan again, but a hand caught him before he even had time to wind his hand back. The force and unshakable grip broached no release, and the face on the tall Zepherious would accept no excuse. Zepherious. Borys noticed him for seemingly the first time since returning to his inn. Disgust and fear turned into kindness and compliance. “Oh, Master Zepherious, I-I did not know you where… I apologize for this display. Y-You were right for stopping me, I shouldn't waste your time by disciplining this abomination.” Borys went on and on, and with each word he hurt Natan, but was still accepted by him as fair criticism. Zepherious showed no emotion on his face with the exception of his eyes. The void of it seemed to be colored by swirling fire. And before long, Borys stopped as he noticed. Zepherious’s grip had tightened. For the first time, the sheer gap of the men's height struck deadly fear into the innkeeper's soul. Silence filled the air, none of the three moved. Then, Natan noticed both men were suddenly sitting at each end of the table, chairs supporting both. Borys glanced around in shock. “How did-” “I wonder, did you get to fixing up a place for me to rest this evening?” Borys paused, confusion of his

sudden appearance on the chair disappeared. This was an easy question, Natan thought. What else could its master be doing but that? Yet Borys was not quick to answer, nor to smile. “I, well, of course.” He could only manage a simple response. “Of course,” the tall man, now sinking back into his large cloak as the conversation continued. “There exists no ulterior motive for you on this day. Silly me.” Crickets filled in the gaps that the silence left, Natan was confused, but a face of horror quickly found Borys. “I,” he swallowed, sweat now forming atop his silver hair. “Yes, yes. I be but a humble innkeeper. Although, I may admit to a few sins here and there.” Borys chuckled at that while Natan appreciated his kindred nature. Yet, Zepherious struck the innkeeper with a hellish sneer. “Oh? Do I hear that correctly? I could have sworn you were discussing what to do with our little friend there with some dark interests at heart.” “What do you-” “QUIET!” Zepherious roared as he flung up from his seat and pounded the table with both hands. The Ladle shook at the will of his voice and the light wavered in the inn. “You disgust me, you accumulation of rot and rubbish!” The pint that had stood there all this time and had long since grown soggy, spilled and landed on Borys's trousers. Many of the tables flipped and landed with a splintered crash. The floral decor evaporated and from the dead firepit roared epic flames that projected the apocalypse. Natan balled up for protection from chunks of wood that fell from the roof. However, Borys simply stared at the angered Zepherious and managed a few words in realization. “You're,” his face was painted in pure astonishment as the words mannifested. “You're one of them.” The inn halted its shaking and Zepherious simply stood straight, introducing himself in full. “I, Zepherious

Shaw, am an Agu'thra, Keeper of the Elder Will. I arrived to this pit of a village for a days rest, yet I found a boy made an abomination by the will of wretched hearts.” His voice grew deep and boomed and with each word, the room seemed to darken. “But it was not I who made the creature as it is!” Borys was comparably pitiful before the rumbling that came from the Agu'Thra. Natan peaked at the both of them from his huddled state. He watched his master, a sensation building from within him. “No?” Zepherious seemed to grow in anger. “No, of course not. You did worse! You took the boy in his state of deformity with the promise of a wandering Neeshka that you would be rewarded when he was picked up when requires by their vile master. You would willingly watch this helpless youngling be sent off to be devoured in exchange for payment you'd make in a moon or two.” Objects now began to draw from the ground and be flung toward Borys. Pieces of oak, silverware, cups, glasses, tankards. Nothing in the shop, small or large, could avoid the will of Zepherious. “Worst of all, you would abuse it for every second it stayed in your care. It would love you and serve you, yet you would not stay your hand before it's mere existence. I could never forgive your interaction with the Neeshka, but this assures deep punishment.” Zepherious brought up his arm and gripped at the air. Nothing left his arm, but Borys flung to the ground all the same. Pain obviously erupting from the man’s body as he contorted on the ground. His shrieks were long and shrill and grew louder and more terrible as both hands were now extended outward to punish the innkeeper. Natan rushed to his master, tears and snot smearing its face as it grabbed the cloak shrouding Zepherious in the growing dark. “STOP!” was all he could say before the chaos. The rumbling, the screaming, everything… stopped. Zepherious looked down, the

anger and wrath on his face melted. Then, he back away and sat, looking down and away from both. Natan eyes the man for a while, checking for safety before looking away and at Borys, a mess piled on the floor, yet he still breathed. He mustered a brief look up towards Natan and fear, agony and confusion could be found on the sweating and aged mess of his face. Natan walked slowly to his master. He wanted to comfort him, but also seemed confirmation. He could

Through teary eyes he spotted teary eyes. Through pain, he spotted pain. And as numbness took everything, a voice ripped itself into Natan's consciousness. “You shall live boy, and you shall become mine to teach. Mine to foster. I will sculpt a proper man out of you. Take away what was inflicted on you and give you a proper life. Do you accept?” Natan was slow to comprehend the words. He was tired. Almost too tired to listen. “Do you accept?! We haven't the time to hesitate.”

The pain suddenly struck the boy like nothing he has ever known until now. But he did know, he has known for years now, but in this very moment he felt it as it was the first time. understand the questions asked by the Agu'Thra. Had his master truly loved him so little? He crouched before the innkeeper and stared into his eyes. Then, he began to touch Borys's face. For a moment, they stared, then Natan smiled. A knife appeared in hand behind Borys's back and pierced the stomach of Natan. It was one of the knife's meant for the guests, grabbed on the chaos. Natan couldn't react, he simply sat motionless as Borys rushed to his feat, he did not want to move as the knife remained and sent shocks of numbness throughout his deformed figure. Suddenly, a gust of sharp wind passed by and impacted the innkeeper, thrashing him to the side of his own inn and his body crumbled to the floor, near motionless. Natan looked over, but fell as strength left him and red smears began to find itself on his jerkin. Zepherious was on him in mere moments and from the man Natan spotted fear for the very first time.

Natan, on a whim, nodded. It was a reaction that came with no understanding, but it was enough. Zepherious smiled. “Then it shall begin. But first, I must attend to this wound.” Both vanished, leaving The Ladle and Mintack as mysteriously as either had first arrived.

Mark Lema Most of the time, if not all the time, when politics is introduced into a discussion it is usually followed by some sort of fight, but I look at it differently. While some people do take a responsible approach to our first and use our 1st Amendment to engage in meaningful conversations, most people abuse it and abuse this freedom to promote their own party and attack the other. I believe that we as Americans should have the mindset of “For my country” rather than “For my party”. As Americans, we must learn how to express ourselves but most importantly, how to listen. By listening we will be respectful and allow for the other person to talk and that is when we should hopefully understand the other person's point of view. If we could learn how to do this, we could solve the major communication issue that is currently hampering the progress in America. Through this issue, it would seem that the nation is divided into subgroups or parties, each fighting against each other because of their different viewpoints or beliefs. In my opinion, everyone should look at the big picture instead of the little picture. I don't think we should group ourselves to be a liberal or a conservative but to rather be referred to as an American with American values and freedoms. However, I totally understand Americans saying that they side with a Democratic president or that they are a Republican. The problem, I think, is the mindset that both parties have. Their mindsets are very individualistic and tear people away from each other. For example, if they were to understand both viewpoints and respect each other then we Americans can grow and continue to improve instead of separating Americans from each other and moving back to the point were now an issue has to be solved in

order to be back at stage one. Another thing I think that should occur is that Americans should vote for the President most fit for the job rather than picking a president for their party, race, or gender because by doing this America can receive the President most fit to improve and help America. And if in your opinion there is no one good enough to be voted for, then I think that you should still vote for someone you think has better properties. When we do this not only will Americans be expressing themselves, but they will also be improving this country drastically and stop acts such as discrimination, racism, and favoritism. If I were to become a politician, I would want to be different and be the change that must happen in the government. Coming from a very religious background I would want to do my best for the people and work for them rather than working for the betterment of myself. I would also want to affect people by mentoring them, leading them, and growing their relationship with God. I would not want to be part of the disease and horrific actions that occur in the government especially with politics. I also believe that as Americans we should be involved with our community. By doing this we will improve our communities, have a large impact on our country, grow in leadership, and connect with your fellow neighbors. With this, you will also teach your family important values and lessons and grow your family in order to improve from generation to generation. In addition to this, I also believe that every American should respect their president no matter their party or race. I disagree however if the president is doing terrible actions and is performing in a terrible manner. But I think all Americans should be somewhat intelligent and

respectful. For example, when you don't stand up for the representation of the colors you are not only disrespecting your country but you're disrespecting soldiers, teachers, fallen soldiers, families of fallen soldiers, and Americans in general. Therefore, that is what I think us Americans have to do in order to change and improve ourselves.

Georgio Collazo Centuries ago, in a time before mankind and their petty kingdoms, was the barren earth, dull and grey. No wind flew through this land as there was no sun, and no waves ebbed as there was no moon. With no day or night, there was no stars to shine the dark. Everything existed in limbo, as a dull warmth-less light radiated through the misty skies. Mountains and valleys were in their same places as now, but on them they had no vegetation. No trees grew, no flowers bloomed, only rocky dirt existed. Within this bleak landscape laid a great primeval civilization. These precursors to Humanity and Elfkind were known as the Jaenar. These giants were always there, ever since time was created, always lording over their forlorn home. They ruled over Old Jaenagathra in their rocky hill thrones hidden away in the grey fog. Their lordly lands stretched from both sides of the mighty AuschtMar River, from old Solkonas to eastern Errnarthir. The giants committed themselves to archaic spirit worship, where they believed that beings from before their time silently guided over them. They thought that the spirits were things of pure energy, who represented the absolute essences of existence such as, goodness, justice, anger, and pain. The Jaenar did not occupy their realm alone. Below them laid the humans and elves, their slaves, who were born from the giants themselves. They were split from their masterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bodies for not only servitude but also for propagation of the Jaenar, as they could combine with each other to become

whole. Yet, they had no free will and drudged through life with no mind, merely doing what they were ordered to do. These peons did everything they were told, they built great cities and monuments yet never lived in them. They were left forgotten and left to wither away in chilly halls of their own creation. One day, one giant grew doubts a b o u t t h e maltreatment of the slaves. He would be known as Junias, and through seeing the dregs toil under his peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s feet he went to his king, H aphebetes, to raise his concerns. The King ignored his pleads and asked why he pitied the servants. Junias left furious with righteous indignation and vowed free them as he saw them struggle and day in their labors. Through the next decades he schemed and plotted, waiting for the opportune moment to free the pitiful men. Yet, the more he planned and thought, the more it weighed on his mind. He could not bear the sight, of them struggling in pain and anguish. He realized the road to freedom for those that did not even know of it, would be long and difficult but he did not anticipate how much it pained him. He knew he could not act like this, he

With his words, he taught them how to gain free will and how to live.

needed to have courage and strength. So, he put his plan into motion. Junias knew he was not alone on this endeavor, there were other honorable and sympathetic beings that would join his cause. He knew of the King’s brother, Llodonar, who relinquished his servants many years prior. So, he went went to him and asked if he had any sympathies for the slaves, that if he pitied them. Llodonar grew surprised that Junias even asked him, as it was strange for any Giant to care for the humans. But he did share Junias’ concerns as well, yet he knew that Haphebetes would remain adamant in his beliefs. Reluctantly, Llodonar knew he would have to betray his brother as he would never listen and be irreconcilable. From then on, Llodonar and Junias began to devise their motions to give freedom to humans. After many debates, they both decided that war would have to be waged. But before they battle, they must gather an army. In secret, hidden away from Llodonar, Junias convenned with ancient specters. He offered with them for a deal that they would not resist. He would offer them the freedom of thousands of humans and elves, for the power to give the slaves the homeland they need. But, these spirits were unsure of why they would want what he offered, what would they gain from this. He offered them the morals, that in giving him this power they would rebalance the nature of good in their own favor. That true justice would be achieved, and so the spirits agreed to his deal. With this, Junias needed to secure connections with his brethren to gain his actual victory to fulfill his end of the bargain. They knew it would be difficult, but slowly for years Junias and Llodonar gained and strengthened allegiances from many other giants. They gained the trust of Jaenar lords from every corner of the kingdom, yet their numbers were still small. It was a demanding task of finding

anyone who would deign to go behind their sworn king’s back. Yet, the lords saw it was a moral and ethical crisis, something needed to be done and alas they would find solace in both Junias and Llodonar. With these lords, came their soldiers, their guards, their strategists, and their advisors. With the increasing amount of power and men at their disposal, it was inevitable that suspicions would be raised against them. It was first Kentonteres of Iones who, in court, spread concerns about Junias and Llodonar to the other Jaenar. Realizing that they were going to be exposed, in accordance to old Jaenar laws, declared a war of open combat to be waged. There was one condition to this war though, that whoever wins would decide the fate of the humans. So began the war of the giants, the Atonnatta. So, both sides met in the Plains of Iones, ready to do battle. From across the field, Junias spied King Haphebetes readying his soldiers for the upcoming battle. He looked towards his own men and strategize and prayed to the spirits with them. Llodonar stood alongside him and weighed with the thoughts of his actions. He knew that there was no turning back, yet he was confident in the path he chose for himself. Then with the sound of a horn, it was finally the time. Both armies marched towards one another, almost in unison. Then as if the tension bursted, they began to run faster and faster until they clashed together. The two giant armies smashed one into another, their swords and spears meeting one another. Blood spilled across the field, coating everything in a crimson veneer. The ground shook and trembled from the sheer violence of it all. Junias and Llodonar both stood by each other's sides held their ground as they waded through the sea of soldiers. They slaughtered as much of King Haphebetes’ warriors it seemed like it was never enough, they

swarmed all around them. They both knew they were at a disadvantage with their smaller army, yet they never realized they were this vastly outmatched. They pressed on and kept fighting. Llodonar struck an enemy with his spear and pierced through his skull, but not before another soldier fatally stabbed him in his back. Junias saw his compatriot fall and in a fit of rage, run through a wave of soldiers and slew them. He saw Haphebetes and ran towards him with his sword at the ready, and in one steady motion he cut off his head. He held it high above but saw only three soldiers left. They scurried and screamed at the sight of their Kingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s head, horrified that their king is dead. These three last enemies are the three Elvan trickster gods, Reyynis, Andanel, and Lahenna. Junias thought of them as nothing, not knowing of their future misdeeds. Yet he saw the field of his fallen comrades and knew that the price was worth it. His plan was now almost finished. He sat down amongst some rocks and waited. Junias medetaited and pondered to the hundreds of spirits that now littered these plains, and that's when he finally achieved holiness. The old spirits gave him an answer to a question that no mortal shall ever hear. For his brave selfless deeds, they gave him godhood. He achieved apotheosis, yet he never felt any different. The spirits of justice and morals fulfilled their end of this very secret bargain. So, with his newfound powers he awoke the humans to separate from the bodies of their Jaenar masters. With his words, he taught them how to gain free will and how to live. With his power, he usurped the old spirits as the guiders of life and rendered them null. They were never to be seen again, as their abilities of limitless energy was too dangerous to be used again. Though sadness still gripped him, as he lost his only true friend Llodonar and his tears fertilized the dusty soil and created vegetation. In order for him to create, he would have to give up pieces of himself. So he tore out his own heart and threw it into the sky, making the sun and moon. When he threw it, blood spilled and landed across the sky and created the stars. For a short time, he physically guided the newly made people and altered the world to suit their needs. This was until he gave up too much of himself in exchange for their survival, and he created Heaven, his last creation, where he ascended. Thus, it was the end of the Atonnatta, the war of the Jaenar and the beginning of mankind.

Nicolette Physer In this fair kingdom, the land was ruled by a kind, royal family. Alongside the King and Queen, held their treasured Prince, Acacius. The royals were really nothing special; simply wealthy. There hasn’t been a single problem upon their land in generations, for there had been no need for trails or battles, nor bloodshed and war. The rulers did nothing but celebrate their peace. Yet, it was boring. The Prince found it all boring. Despite only being sixteen, Acacius was a very respected and confident childeven if all he ever did was glare and frown. His aura was strong; townsfolk would recognize him with a single glance, unlike the other royals. He often wandered the streets and markets, easily settling any conflict in seconds with intimidation alone. And although admired, his people tended to fear his need for power and something new. They, as well as the King and Queen, enjoyed their peaceful homes, long forgiven by war and bloodshed. Yet to him, it was only boring- he felt shallow and empty without something to distract him. No matter what show was put on, or gift he was given, he couldn’t help but scowl. He hated how quiet it all was- it felt empty and somewhat sickening. So, even if he knew it was wrong, he prayed to the Gods for something interesting. War, disaster, anything to prevent the self-destructing uneasiness he felt in his heart. No uneventful meetings with other kingdoms, no ballroom dances with annoying royal-drunks, no lethargic and lazy parents ignoring any sort of caution. Just something to fill the void feeling dragging down his soul. It seemed the Gods didn’t plan to grant his wishes anytime soon. The town was deathly quiet as always, and the Prince couldn’t stand it. Their cheerful attitudes sickened the seemingly wicked

Prince, their faces clear of worry or care, memories of war completely forgotten in their smiles. He decides to stroll the garden as usual- maybe to even pray to Gods again- and an intruder appears before him. It was not a dirty thief, nor a blood-thirsty enemy, but a kid around his own age peacefully strumming a tune on a pretty, golden harp. The flowers seemed to sway with the musician’s melody, while birds and butterflies stuck around to enjoy it’s sound. The suns harsh rays seemed to soften around the person, reflecting off the instrument and giving an illusion of stars glittering the bushes of flowers and elegant fountain behind them. But that wasn’t the most shocking thing. What surprised him the most was that the child had been sitting in place of a statue. A statue representing the young God of music and love, playing their beloved harp for the animals and plants alike- yet the beautiful stone figure was nowhere to be seen. And on top of that, the said child looked strikingly like the God itself. From their hair to face, to the clothes they wore and the harp they so gracefully strummed. It was all exactly how he remembered the statue looking, only animated, with color. He didn’t expect a God to have pink hair, tan skin and golden yellow eyes, but it seemed quite fitting now. He only took one moresurprisingly hesitant- step forward, before the musician noticed him. With wide eyes, they froze- the melody interrupted- and the silence made the Prince realize how empty he felt without it. But he refused to let that affect him. “Who are you?” Acacius asked the stranger, with a well-worn stern voice. The other didn’t reply, probably still too surprised- or hopefully intimidated. The Prince nearly smiled at the sight, feeling

just a bit too egotistical. “Will you answer, or will I call security for trespassing?” He tries again, and the stranger finally reacts with a scoff. The melody starts to play again, and the Prince can’t help but only feel relief. “I am not trespassing, really. I apologize for the confusion." It wasn’t a lot to judge from, but the person’s voice was soft and quiet, and seemed like it hadn’t been used in decades. Which the Prince believed could’ve been true. He silently watched them play longer, before taking a seat across the entertainer. The birds seemed to act a little friendlier towards him than he remembered. “Do you enjoy music?” The stranger asked, smiling past the harp in front of them. Acacius only stared back, ready to reply “No,” rudely like he's used to, but for some reason, couldn’t. He wondered if this person really was the missing statue; it'd be hard to say you dislike music to the God of music. “Is your name Niobe?” He responds instead, unable to think of anything else. “Yes. And you’re the current prince, correct?” Niobe asked back, smiling brightly. Acacius only nods, somehow feeling too comfortable after confirming his suspicions, despite being such a heavy truth. He didn’t feel as noble as usual, considering the God in front of him. “Your people are afraid of you, you know. They fear the day you become king. They fear what you’ll bring to them, and they fear the end to their joyous lives.” The God spoke as if knowing every part of his life. He wanted to be angry and yell something back yet couldn’t bring himself to. Maybe it was the soft melody surrounding them. He simply let the other continue. “They believe you only care for battle and power. They do not believe they’ll be satisfied with your rule. Your skills- in swordsmanship and power- are admirable, but unnecessary to them.” Niobe’s smile softens when they see the Prince frowning more, like a child being scolded. They continue, “You cannot

blame them. There are kingdoms miles from here who are afraid of only you. It’s your lust that scares them. Lust for bloodshed, they believe. “I have no lust for power nor bloodshed. They misunderstand me; I simply must keep a status, to protect them. There is no other way for people to recognize my authority. My father and mother are not respected, for all they do is drink and dance, shamelessly.”

Acacius was a very respected and confident childeven if all he ever did was glare and frown. Acacius begins to argue, “Such tasteless things. I feel ill just thinking about it.” “Do you find music tasteless?” The God repeats their question from before, only worded slightly different. Acacius hesitates on answering again. He did indeed find music tasteless, yet once again, felt it’d disrespectful to say such a thing to such a God. Niobe notices his falter, and smiles, looking almost amused. “It is okay to speak your mind. I will not be offended if you dislike my music,” They reassured him, but the Prince quickly shakes his head, denying the statement completely. “No, no- your music is beautiful, I promise you. It isn’t tasteless at all. Please do not think poorly.” He has never spoken so quickly before, and the God laughs softly at his reaction. " “Thank you, Prince. I stall promise you something back,” Niobe stops playing their harp, and Acacius

noticeably sulks. Once again, he feels empty without it. “Power nor bloodshed will ever fill your empty heart,” They pause to smile, reassuringly. “Only love, and it’s wonderful music.” The advice they offered was unclear to the Prince. Though he didn’t have a moment to question them, as their hands began to gracefully trace the gold on their harp, which slowly morphed into separate partings. The gold pieces took shape of stunning rings, necklaces and bracelets- the strings holding pieces together with ease. The head of the previous instrument took shape of a large ring, before spreading into lovely designs of a crown, fit for a king. “And if you’re afraid of the status escaping your grasp, causing you to be forgotten and never respected,” Niobe starts again, picking up the crown, and gently placing it on the Prince’s head, “This will reassure you as well as your people of who you are and forever will be. Please accept my gifts, as a thank you for always sitting in the garden with me, Acacius. I truly believe you have a heart of gold.” Many years later, the beloved King Acacius overlooked his town of his singing and dancing people, without a need for war nor fear. Although his heart felt empty without Niobe and the God’s wonderful music, the golden crown and jewelry he wore were just enough to satisfy him until he found a true love for himself.

Rebekah Staten

Everyday Bonny the Bunny would walk home in fear, scared of the big bad fox Barrett. He would mock and pick on her because of her size and big teeth. He would things throw things at her and threaten to eat her if she ever walked another way home. One day on Bonny was hopping home and was approached by Barrett. Like many times before, he threw berries at her and taunted her, mocking the way that she hopped. While laughing at his own cruelness, Barret began to choke on the very berries he had used to tease Bonny. Gasping for air, Barret felt his time coming to an end. However, Bonny quickly flipped him over on to his stomach and started to hop on his back; over and over until he finally coughed the berries up. “Why did you save me?” Barrett asked after taking his first breath. “Not matter how bad you treat me; you don’t deserve to die.” The moral of the story:

BE KIND TO OTHERS. YOU NEVER KNOW HOW MUCH YOU’LL NEED THEM.

2018-2019 Staff Supervising Editors Sebastian Solorzano Isabelle Hastings

Editors Megan Ball Jeffery Greer Ajeya Housen Leah Richards Connor Weeks Jonathan Le Usman Chaudry Catarina Alvarez Agelina Khoja Dwinshaelle Merus Nathalie Pena Angelina Tuccillo Gavin Herrera

Class Advisor Matthew M. Cordova Language Arts Department Chair Dr. Michele Cash School Principal Haleh Darbar

About Us

Colophon

he creative writing course at Everglades High School is compiled of students from 9th to 12th grade. Currently the course has grown to contain Creative Writing 1 - 5 along with a Playwriting course . Students in the higher levels take on a role of the editing staff for the ELM.

very year, the ELM draws its inspiration from the cover artâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s design. This year, the cover art shows off a style of art that has become very popular among students. The Manga style is exemplified by the lettering of the titles that is done with Zud Juice. The subtitles, where necessary, was done using another Manga style font known as Shonen Punk V2. For the main body of the stories and poems, Bookman Old Style was selected to balance out the edgy sans serif fonts used for titles. A two column block format was used to give the pages a clean look. Artistic elements from the cover are used throughout the dividers and at the page numbers. These pieces were taken from the original image through student use of photoshop.

Selection Process

he selection of materials for this magazine comes directly from the editorial staff. The review hundreds of submissions from the course and any other submissions. Editors review the submissions and rate each one based on a rubric. They then input their ratings and the pieces with the highest ratings are selected for the magazine.