The Inkblot Volume 4

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The Inkblot Volume 4

3:00 AM

The Inkblot is a production of the Creative Writing program at Green Hope High School. It is intended as a forum for Green Hope students to share original work, including poetry, drama, short fiction, and creative nonfiction. Students often choose to write about issues and subjects that are personal to them, and may even adopt a fictional persona/perspective for the purposes of artistic exploration and expression. The views and feelings expressed herein do not necessarily reflect the opinions or positions of school administrators, teachers, or students.

pg. 3

Hello. IT’s me

Table of Contents Existential Daydreams (Scotty French) * Under the Light of Dead Stars (Marina Catullo) * Liberty and Justice for All (Aaruba Ayesha) Antietam, 3am (Camryn Diagonale) 365 Days and Three Hours (Erin Kennedy) * Wide Awake (Lynne Chen, Aaruba Ayesha, Sarah Dugger) * Morning Dew (Brianna Conroy and Molly Canina) Shattered (Emily Apadula) Missing Me and Parts of You (Arden Stockdell-Giesler) * The Dark Wizard (Rosie Williams and Julia Langenderfer) A Short Description of a Dream (Bryn Walker) The Monster Under My Bed (Asma Hafiz) Alone at 3am (Catherine Edbrooke) Dark Succession (Angelica Edwards and Julia Langenderfer) 3 Doubts at 3am (Elizabeth Wilson and Rosie Williams) Insomnia (Tara Haddock) Nocturnal Nights (Drew Fitzgerald) Night and Day (Emily Apadula and Lynne Chen) *

Editorial Board Members

Pieces marked with an “*” have been adapted into video format in addition to their original text format.

Erin Kennedy Camryn Diagonale

Watch the video playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?l ist=PLbHrLJewcsQS4G6GG3LYargkxL oMskBmy

Arden Stockdell-Giesler Marina Catullo Angelica Edwards

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Existential Daydreams Night 1 Greetings, journal, my effervescent, leather-bound companion. It’s been five years since I last dusted you off. You’re my hero and savior, an outlet for when times get tough. I’ve abandoned you many times before, but here we are, back at it again with the insomnia. Why? Well, if I knew the answer, I’d probably have the solution by now.

Now, I’ve heard that causes of insomnia can include: Significant life stress (job loss or change, death of a loved one, divorce, moving) Illness.

Emotional or physical discomfort.

Environmental factors like noise, light, or extreme temperatures (hot or cold) that interfere with sleep.

Thing is, though, none of these apply to me. Honestly, I’m ok. I’m wonderful. Don’t look at me like that.

You’re a book, a hundred pieces of paper bound with some glue and cardboard, you don’t get to judge me. That wouldn’t be fair.

I think if I just go and walk my dog, I’ll get tired. I’ll pass out on the couch and everything will be alright.

I’ll pack you away for five more years. Don’t take it personally, bae.

Night 2 Well that didn’t work. My dog ended up passing out a block away from my apartment. Lucky little fleabag.

Things weren’t always like this, I know that, you know that. I didn’t get even one minute of sleep yesterday. I just laid in my bed and heard the clock on my wall tick. Tick. Tick.

There were clouds outside my window, concealing the moon and making it dull. Just like my life.

I think my head is trying to tell me something subconsciously by keeping me up for two nights in a row, but I don’t know what it is. I feel different. I feel like my head has been filled with far too many thoughts.

I’m imploding. pg. 5

Hello. IT’s me

It’s 3am again. It’s the middle of the summer, but my insides feel frigid. Why is that?

Three in the morning is a terrible time to be awake. It’s that period just between 2am (night) and 4am (morning). Which is it? Can we cut the difference and say 3:30 is the median time in which all life just suddenly realizes it’s the peak of dawn? I’ll send out a PSA to every organism (micro and macro, I don’t discriminate) in the world. They’ll agree with me, just you wait, journal.

What type of journal are you, anyways? I used to write in you as a kid. I would tell you about my day, what I did, who I was.

Are you a sleep journal? How about a dream journal? Well, I’m not sleeping. Or dreaming. Lack-of-sleep journal? It’s fitting. I like it.

Night 3 Salutations. I tried tea for the first time, I read it calms you, but I hate tea. Tea is leaf water. Don’t come near me with that feng shui nonsense. Coffee is just powdered bean water that smells like bitter, wet dogs in the Florida rain. Fight me.

I tried doing my taxes and going for a run to tire myself out, but then I realized that takes effort so I opted out. Maybe this isn’t so bad. Why do humans even need sleep? Technically, scientists haven’t got anything past ‘because your body gets tired’.

Psh, amateurs.

I can go weeks without sleep.

Just you watch, journal.

Night 4 You know what? Shia LaBeouf is just misunderstood.

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Night 5 Hello again, journal. Is the ‘s’ or the ‘c’ silent in the word ‘scent’? If you get out of the shower clean, how come your towel gets dirty? If you drop soap on the floor is the floor clean or is the soap dirty? Who closes the bus door when the bus driver gets off? How come there’s a ‘d’ in fridge but not in refrigerator? These are the questions I want answered and the presidential candidates are not answering them!!!

Night 6 So, I’ve been thinking. Dogs. They speak English or Spanish or Portuguese or Mandarin or whatever. I know it. Don’t lie to me. They speak, they just don’t want us to hear it. It’s been six days, I can’t sleep, I don’t want to sleep. Are the walls moving in or am I just growing bigger? Is the world moving underneath me or am I moving on top of it? I wonder if my perception of reality is the same as everyone else’s… like, are we all seeing the same thing or are all our realities uniquely different from each other and they somehow work in conjunction so we can communicate and coexist? My head hurts.

Colors. Do we all see the same colors? Why do we have names for colors? What if someone else’s “blue” is a different color than the color I thought it was? What if someone never saw a certain color before, and you tried to describe the color to them? How do you describe a color? “Oh blue, it’s uh...blueish”.

Jay Z and Beyoncé are 100% in the Illuminati. They recruited Kim and Kanye. Beyoncé wasn’t even pregnant with Blue Ivy. I don’t blame her. Our world leaders are lizard people, why would you want to bring a child into this world, it’s just too dangerous. What day is it? What year is it? Who am I? Why am I here?

Night 7 I figured it out, journal! Ok, so, you know how when you’re dreaming--well, you wouldn’t know, personally, but, just, you know what? Just go with it. You know when you’re having a dream, and you, like, die, and then you wake up? I think it’s because you don’t (really) know what happens after death.

So, even your subconscious is just like, ‘oh no’, and wakes up.

I’m a genius.

Night 8 We’re closer to 2030 than 2000 and that genuinely scares me to no end.

pg. 7

Hello. IT’s me

Night 9 Time is a weird concept. Are we really here? What does it even mean to be here, right now? Are there multiple presents simultaneously happening alongside each other? Time is definitely not linear. This is messed up and no one is talking about it. We’re such tiny, insignificant particles in a universe that expands to infinite spaces. How and why does the universe keep expanding? I can’t deal with this.

Everything and everyone is a conspiracy and you can’t trust anyone. New World Order.

Night 10 I need to save my dog. It’s not safe here. I put him in the mailbox, I trust our mailman, he’ll know what to do. I feel strange. This isn’t me. I’m not me. Who am I? Who are you?

Oh, you’re a journal. I forgot.

My pen is running out. I don’t have anymore pens, journal, what do I do?

I think it’s time to go, journal. It’s 3am again.

It’s been ten days.

Or has it?

I need sleep.

I can’t sleep.

What if aliens already visited the earth?

And they just didn’t like it here?

They didn’t like us.

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What if I’m the alien?

Whoa.

pg. 9

Hello. IT’s me

Under the Light of Dead Stars We lay side by side, smushed up against each other, gazing up at stars that may already be dead. Our breathing becomes one, I inhale, and she exhales, in and out, out and in, until the miles between us disappear and we are a team again. Hadley and I: two halves of the same soul.

“You know how you memorize the lyrics of your favorite song?” I murmur, suddenly weightless and anchored all at once. “That’s how I fell in love with him. One day the chords started to play, and I realized my heart knew every word - even when my head didn’t.”

Hadley sighs. “You make love sound easy.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Not for girls like me,” her voice is soft, defeated. “Not for girls who can't even love themselves.”

I reach over and grasp her hand, letting my silence offer the comfort words can never recreate.

The minutes of 3 AM seem frozen after that, and we are left suspended in the odd hour of both morning and night. Hadley’s bony shoulder starts to bruise the soft skin of my bicep, but I only scoot closer, holding onto this moment of fullness for as long as I can. Tomorrow, I will have to brave another day as half a person, but tonight, tonight I have Hadley.

And the flickering lights of dead stars.

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Liberty and Justice for All My family--as everyone who knows us will agree--is very close. Not very close as in a “Let’s-meet-upover-break,” close. More like “Oh-hey-it’s-three-in-the-morning. That-calls-for-an-adventure,” kind of close. Those kinds of adventures are just a little too common in our households. When I mean “our” I don’t just mean a couple of first cousins, I mean every relative on the eastern seaboard, including all twenty-two of my rambunctious, buoyant cousins. My family--as everyone who knows us will agree--is joyful. Always laughing, loud, enjoying every moment. Always relishing for the next moment for us to be together. Always celebrating all the American holidays--especially Thanksgiving. We are, essentially, just like every other American family. Also, we are proud Muslim Americans.

Thanksgiving, one can argue, is one of the most American of holidays, besides the Fourth of July.

Thanksgiving doesn’t belong to any religion or any ethnicity. It belongs to the American people. I spent this past Thanksgiving in Maryland, with all of my twenty-two cousins and second cousins. You can imagine how ridiculous we were around the house. From wrestling and playing football in the basement, to stealing tires to make a tire swing and building a clubhouse smelling of logs and wildflowers in the backyard, to watching scary movies every night, it was a holiday worth remembering. And of course, our craziest adventure yet: DC. We were planning on going Black Friday shopping like the rest of the millions of Americans stuffed with turkey and mashed potatoes. After glancing at the TV and seeing the havoc going on, we changed our minds. There were much better things to do than splurging and fighting for materialistic items, especially right after a holiday that prided itself on being thankful for what you have.

The drive to DC took about 40 minutes. The traffic was going the opposite way, to malls and department stores, not to historical landmarks and beautiful monuments. Better for us, anyways. Cruising in the brisk air and dancing in the car, the drive was as great as the destination. Because there obviously wasn’t enough space for all twenty-two of us in one car, we had to take three or four cars. Of course we had to race. Zooming, changing lanes, we were exhilarated, exuberant. We ruled the world from those cars. We were invincible, immortal, as long as we were together. That is the power of our family.

There are two sides to every person. The side they themself see, and the side everyone else sees. I wonder what others saw when they saw me and my twenty-two cousins. Did they think we were a random group of kids going on a random field trip? Did they think we were partiers, coming back from god knows where? Would they be weary and cautious because they saw a group of Muslim youth? Or did they see what we all saw: the closest family coming together and being thankful for everything they were given? I wonder what the police officer thought when he saw us walking on the empty streets of DC, gazing in wonder at the historical monuments. Did he stop to ask us what we were doing because we seemed lost, meandering aimlessly along the abandoned streets, or did he stop because he thought we “Moslems” would do something terrible to the nation?

It seemed that there were two sides the cop could have seen: the side that people told him to see, the people who roared that all Muslims are terrorists, or the side that I hoped more people would see, the side that showed everyone that we were as American as they are. Thankfully, he chose that side. Kindly, he asked if we needed a ride or directions after realizing that we were on an adventure. We gratefully declined, because part of the adventure was the journey itself.

pg. 11

Hello. IT’s me

This encounter with the police officer had first scared me. I was terrified that he would think we were up to something, and would tell us to head home. It seems that there are some Americans who have lived here for generations who forget that America is not just their country, it is the country of those whom have migrated here as well. Immigrants and children of immigrants (such as myself) have found a home here. Some people don’t hesitate to say “This is not your home, go back to where you came from.” Then where, exactly is home for me? Is home not the country I, and my twenty-two cousins were born in? Not the country we grew up in, not the country we know more than our parents’ lands? People speak of the world being a better place, with no racism or discrimination but I wonder if there is any truth hidden in those words. I do not see a lack of racism and discrimination in our world. In fact, I have seen much more than I imagined as a child. Because of the world we live in now, I have lost the innocence I had as a child, the notion that everyone loved each other. The idea that everyone believed the golden rule: treat others the way you want to be treated. But though I have lost my childhood innocence, I have not lost the hope I had. The hope that remains and grows when I encounter people like that random police officer, who did not think we were terrorists, despite what the rest of the world screamed at him. For that, I felt so grateful. Though the world is not as great as I imagined as a child, it is not as bad as some make it out to be. There is still hope for us yet.

After a friendly chit chat with the police officer, he waved us on our way. We stopped by all of the famous monuments and memorials. It was 4AM by then, but none of us were ready to stop. We skipped, leaped, ran, slowed down, walked, took a break, and started the cycle all over again. We stopped at the Washington Monument and giggled as my brother dared my cousin to lick it. Disgustingly enough, he did it, all while smiling proudly and stating he made his mark on American history. Walking on, we paused by the National World War II Memorial, which was quiet except for a couple playing a guitar and walking close by. We could hear the strums and sadness as we walked through. I have never felt such a strong sense of nationalism and American pride as I did walking through those quiet and empty streets with my best friends.

The best of them all was the Lincoln Memorial. We had saved the best for last, and it was worth it.

Feeling a sense of awe, I will never forget how it felt for my cousins and I to walk up the smooth, majestic steps and see Abraham Lincoln’s stern face. I realized that all of these monuments and memorials were not only here before any of us were born, but they would also stay here after we were long gone. I wonder what they would say, if they could. Would they speak of the millions of Americans and tourists who came to visit in all hours of the day, or would they remember that one silent night, at 3AM, when I, and twenty-two of my cousins came? Would they be able to sense the pure happiness radiating from all of us, and the gratefulness we felt that we had not gone Black Friday shopping with the rest of America? Did they argue amongst themselves over who the true Americans were? I knew that if they could talk, they would all agree that yes, these twenty-three children laughing, teasing, playing in front of them were home.

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ANTIETAM, 3AM The rooms of the house have succumbed to the voices of the sleepy and silent.

Darkness cloaks couch cushions and the place where the dog sleeps.

The only sound the steady hum of the refrigerator, keeping time on the circadian rhythm.

The clock blinks three.

The possibility of sleep had slipped further and further away as the hours crept on, as I absently thumbed through notes, highlighter in hand.

I chart this enigmatic Tuesday nighttime quietly, desperately, academically.

Alone.

As the hours wear on, minutes moving slow and sluggish, I find myself focusing instead on the photos and cards tacked to my bulletin board and the pieces of lint in my carpet. pg. 13

Hello. IT’s me

I hear a strange noise and find myself with a thought-What if the world ends?

This thought pulls me from my hopeless study session, Thomas Jefferson and the Aroostook War falling deeper into the pages of notes, at this point, unsalvageable.

The world won’t end with a bang.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from existence, it’s that things don’t usually end the way that they begin.

A sunrise and a sunset are two very different things to the solemn student sitting on her bed

I think of sad things, like those books in high school libraries that you know have never been touched and how we didn’t realize, at the end of it all, that all of the songs were about us.

Somewhere, somebody

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could be saying such nice things about you or thinking them or singing them--who knows.

“Cheers to the bands who sang about girls in high school and late nights not spent studying.”

I’ll say this as stars start to die and the sky darkens with the clouds of the apocalypse.

In essence, those are the most important things, the primal tipping points of our young lives, our brackish beginnings.

When some kid steps in front of a microphone with a guitar and a head full of messy hair ready to bare his adolescent soul and sing about the girl who broke his heart, to me that says “This is it. The big time. The real thing.”

That’s all that really matters in this bloodied, broken world-punk rock and true love.

When the world starts to end, I’ll travel back in time.

I’ve decided I’ll drive to Antietam National Battlefield, taking the long way through all the small patriotic towns, the owns existing in a segmented sea of farmlands and grassy hills, pg. 15

Hello. IT’s me

listening to the songs that soundtracked my senior year (because those are the most important so far).

When I arrive at those rolling swards, swarming with ghosts, I’ll sit by the biggest tree I can find, the one that surely witnessed one of the most important battles of the Civil War.

I’ll close my eyes, listening to a deceptive quiet as the earth is burnt out, a cigarette stub on the black asphalt of the universe.

I’ll try to remember everything that I can about history as it starts to repeat itself.

This is the way the world ends--with the smallest sizzle.

At the end I hope all we have left is punk rock and true love.

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365 Days (& Three Hours) River I watched, helpless, as the door closed behind her. The room turned to darkness, vast darkness, all-encompassing darkness that swallowed the room, the world, the moon, and stretched forward to swallow me too. ….

I have dreams about her leaving all the time. Nightmares, really. Even though she left a year ago , it still stings. I still wake up every morning and think it was temporary, that she’ll be back today, that it was a vacation, that she was gone for a week.

But she’s not.

She’s gone for good.

A year goes by a lot quicker than you’d think it would, but also a lot slower. Some days, when we text the whole day or Skype or Facetime until three in the morning, it feels fast. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been a whole year, because I can still smell her shampoo and her nail polish when she used to make me paint her nails for her because I can do the tiny designs on her right hand. But on days when she’s taking her SAT for the eighth time, or is at some prestigious award ceremony, or that one time she dropped her phone in the toilet and it took three days for her to replace it, those are the days that go by slowly. I think about all the distance between Miami and Oregon, all of the distance in a year, in time, in location, in hearts. I think about what could have been.

Rhiannon It's been exactly a year since I last saw you. It's been exactly a year since I last looked at you in person, since I watched a movie with you on the couch, since we spent our last summer at the beach we'd spent every June through August at since we were born. It’s been exactly a year since I told you my final goodbye.

Even though we text and we FaceTime and we call, it’s nothing like old times, nothing like hugging your lanky figure and being able to dig my tear-stained face into your ribs whenever I was irritated or just in a dismal mood. You would always understand when I would call you at three in the morning, just to tell you a new LP was coming out or to rant about what kind of a week I was having, even though we’d spend every waking minute together and you’d already know what I was on about.

I remember every detail of your face. pg. 17

Hello. IT’s me

I remember the sparkling studs glistening in your ears, the dull ring in your eyebrow, the mouse brown hair collecting over your eyes in a mop.

I remember the scar on your chin from when we were eight and I dared you to climb that tree and you did. You did. For me. I remember the shape of your green eyes, distorted by the thick frames of your giant glasses, the ones I used to steal to look smarter. You would always retort with a “You always look smart, Rhi.” I miss that. I miss you.

River The first three hours of the day are the worst. The ones between me getting up for school while you’re still sleeping, three times zones away, are lonely and dismal. It often involves a lot of double-texting, triple-texting, quadruple-texting, dodeca-texting. A lot of pictures of sunrises, a lot of pictures of dogs I see when I’m walking the two miles to school, a lot of “i miss u”s and “i wish u were here”s. But, of course, you know this. You’re the one who wakes up to 37 unread text messages, 4 Tumblr mentions, 8 tweets I DMed you because I thought you’d find them funny, and a Facebook poke every day.

Today is no different, I tell you “good mornin!!!!” and there’s a dog walker on the way to school. Cue a bunch of motion-blurred pictures of dog faces with slobbery tongues and wide-open eyes. Any day that starts out with so many dogs has to be a good one.

Or maybe not. I had forgotten that the ACT was a thing for, I dunno, about the past 17 years. Maybe I didn’t “forget” as much as I just maybe was working at Ralph’s the day they told us it existed. But lucky me, it didn’t stop me from having to take it!

Taken off guard as soon as I walked into homeroom, I turned my phone off and placed it face down on the front table before taking my seat in front of McDaniel and behind Mantha. I then spent the next 4 hours narrowly avoiding smashing my face into the desk, which would have given me a bloody nose, which I’m kind of sure would prohibit me from being able to do the ACT. The scantron doesn’t say to not get your nose blood on it, but I’m sure it’s implied. Maybe.

It starts to drizzle in the middle of the math section, and I can’t help but daydream about us spending rainy days by the radiator in my room, listening to old records on the turntable you got me for my birthday that one year. It’s weird to wish that someone was with you when you’re taking the ACT in a room with walls I can only describe as the color of baby spit-up, but the thing about Rhiannon, about you, is that no matter what, I always wish you’re with me. You’re the person that puts that calm in me, that makes me breathe easier and makes smile more. In my brain you’re visiting me and we’re getting froyo on the boardwalk in June, and you’re smiling because I got some in my hair when I sneezed, and I’m smiling because you’re smiling, and everything is better than the ACT.

Rhiannon When I wake up, your usual good morning text is waiting for me, with four exclamation points!

Four exclamation points? What did I do to deserve only four? I text back as soon as possible and slide [Type here]

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out of bed reluctantly to get ready. The house is quiet, a mammoth vessel for those who wish to die slowly from the inside out. Everything in my room is at my level, literally. A whopping five foot, I couldn’t reach the highest shelf or see myself in the bathroom mirror all the way. It used to piss you off, until you realized you could taunt me with your height and tease me until I finally just punched you in the stomach like any angry five foot woman would do.

After I get dressed, I check my phone. No response. I figure you might be eating lunch or something, but you always text me during lunch. I text you again, and again, and again, hoping my virtual pestering will at least get you to reply.

-if ur dead i swear to god im gonna come to the afterlife and kill u myself for leaving me -real talk tho if one of us dies first (its gonna be you bc ur stupid) you have to promise to haunt me until i die so we can be together forever

I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth but my heart rate accelerates as my brain speeds up with the thought things, and the crying, and the knuckle-clenching. It’s been twenty minutes since I replied to your good morning text, and I’m starting to do the panicking thing. You know that scares me.

All I can imagine is those dog pictures showing up on one of those texting and driving commercials, except they’d make a texting and walking one just for you just to show you in the afterlife how stupid you are for texting and walking.

The entire ride to school is spent bouncing in my seat with my phone in my hand, which I know is illegal but when your best friend’s life is possibly on the line, nothing is illegal. My knee is shaking up and down during class when my phone buzzes with notifications.

My heart stops and restarts at the same time when I see your name.

River It’s days like this where I am really glad I constantly keep my phone on silent, because if not, we would have had a misadministration about 2 seconds into the ACT and I would have to retake it. I quickly texted you back, trying to ease the anxiety I knew you were feeling.

-hey! i am so sorry omg side note did u know that the ACT is a thing because i did not and i just took it so thats a thing -EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT THE ACT IS, YOU CINDER BLOCK -dang sorry omg i think i was workin the day they told us -also yeah im not dead and like textin u from beyond the grave

pg. 19

Hello. IT’s me

-haha very funny, riv.

-but yeah if i die first ill totally haunt u -ud better -best buds forever and all that -also im sorry for freakin u out :-( if i had known that today we had to take a 4 hour long test i woulda told u -im gonna go to the beach spot for lunch bc it stopped raining (it started raining during the test) so im gonna go down and eat at that one picnic table where that bird stole ur french fry bc like nostalgia and everything amirite -i loved that french fry -im getting fruit salad from a gas station is this a Bad Idea™️ -o whale im doin it -NONONONONONO Bad Idea ™️ in the making!!!!

-hay remember that one time we got strawberry smoothies that was a good day -zoo wee mama the sky is real nice 2day -u sound like ur having a fun time -i think the gas station fruit salad was a not fun idea that past river had -can i punch past river in his face -i’ll do it for you -omg ok u know that weird bathroom in the art hallway thats like the family bathroom that always kinda smells like paint that we all hate guess what i just puked in -it was that bathroom -the one outside the art classroom where we wash our paintbrushes ewwwwwww -yes that one. now it smells like paint and vomit -just call me the vomit volcano bc thats all i am anymore -no, ur also the dumbest person alive. what makes u think u can eat gas station fruit salad -i have to walk home the nurse gave me something to make me like vomit less so i can go home also i told her i have a car and i DOnut so like mmmmmmm makin my way downtown walkin fast tryin not to puke and im homebound -here’s ur eulogy: “even on his deathbed, he remembered his idol, vanessa carlton” -rhi im dying

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-dont forget that u promised to haunt me. i expect ur ghost on my porch in 2 days max.

-im a vomit rocket -zoom -u need to go to bed -im gonna sleep maybe for like a little bit goodnight i know its like 1:30 in the afternoon but its nighty night time -hello i am back and im puking again -is there really this much substance in my body that i can puke -i take that back its just stomach acid now -ok tmi man -im going back to sleep -rhi what time is in in oregon if its like 4 here -i got puke on the cat -not cosmos the cat. u puked on cosmos??!!

-im a bad cat parent - ooo sleepy time again im so dead rest in pieces river mcbride -HEY R U UP I DONT FEEL PUKEY -what do u wannnnntt its midnight -i slept for so long its like three here im dEAd i cannot go to work tomorrow like this - but i dont think im sick anymore -but i am so tired -do u wanna facetime -its too late im already in bed -idc lets GOOO

(incoming call from RIV)

River

pg. 21

Hello. IT’s me

“Hello! Can you tell by my voice that I puked up my stomach acid for like 4 hours today?” I grinned at your pixely face, illuminated by the soft orange light of the bedside table lamp.

Rhiannon Your face appears before me after an agony of waiting, after imagining the signal bouncing back and forth, from cell tower to satellite back to cell tower and finally to me. Your eyebrow ring shines in the light as your head lays on a teal blue rug, and I know exactly where you are: the hall bathroom, at the top of the stairs to the right.

You say something about your voice, but I’m too busy memorizing the details of your face for the three hundred and sixty-fifth or so time. Today you look even more pale, the area around your mouth speckled with dots I can only assume are bits of your lunch.

“You should clean up, babe. You look awful.”

You laughed and wiped your face with the back of your hand like Cosmos the cat did.

“What are you up to, besides upchucking everything you've ever eaten?”

The screen freezes as you make a mocking face and matching laugh that comes in pixel by pixel. The connection goes in and out, in and out, until finally it gives out.

No more than five seconds later, texts start flooding in.

-hello sorry there is no service again -yaknow the whole wifi situation at my house -anywho -hello i am no longer upchucking everything i have ever eaten and now i am laying on the floor hoping the vomit volcano thing doesnt happen again bc i feel kinda good right now but like maybe in two seconds i will no longer feel okay ya feel -Its three!! In!!! the!!!! MORNING!!! and i have work at 11 and i dont want to go and i dont want to have to work to support my family and i dont want to have to live with my family -rhi why cant i be 18 already i want to l e a v e this all behind and be my own person and like. not have to work to support my family it sucks and i want it to stop -like?? i know for sure that i am not depressed or whatever i am just depressed bc of my situation and its STUPID and i want to just. be. okay rhi -first of all, ur not depressed. it's ur situation that's making u feel this way and it's really toxic to u. while i hate being so apart from u, oregon’s got something special. i hate being away from u. i wish u didn’t have to live so far away, bc i love u. i wish i could tell u this in person but the reality is i also wish u weren’t going thru this alone. i am here for u and i love u with every fiber of my body

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-aw rhi i lov ya too -i don't think u understand, riv. ever since u first asked me to build that sandcastle with u the first summer we could remember, i have loved u. unconditional, quiet love thats been burning inside of me for more than a decade. idk y im telling u now, but ive been wanting to for years, & i wont deny it any longer.

-dang man -that is a

thing i guess lol

-really riv???!!

-IDK rhi i am just having a moment and i donut think i can do this whole thing rn bc ur really far away and idk how to feel -UR having a moment??

-im the one having a moment, u jerk!!! i just told u how i felt abt u for 10 yrs & the only thing u have to say is idk??

-really -u’ve never heard of a long distance relationship -u know exactly what im talking about u’ve watched the movies w me and read the books -everything works out in the end, y cant u trust we will do the same???

-I d K!!!!!!! I dont wanna ruin what we have -nvm. i take it back. i take it all back. u obviously dont want this so ill just back away, pretend like it never happened.

-rhi lmao u cant take things like that back -like its out there forever. u cant like just pretend it never happened bc from now on every single thing that ever happens between us is different bc u said that -jesus ur mad now aren’t u -o goshie wow im sorry im not mad i was just talking its late and i puked a lot today i just dont know how to feel or what to do -u’d better not have fallen asleep bc we r in the middle of something idc what u have to do tomorrow -sorry im here -idk like -im just thinking -like…. idk man i feel like it would just change everything

pg. 23

Hello. IT’s me

-oc it would change everything...change is meant to happen? y cant u accept that someone loves u? i know u turn down every girl bc ur afraid to get hurt. i know u inside out, river mcbride. i love the way u buy extra long blankets and bring them to my house so we can watch movies and not fight over warmth. i love the way u stand up for what u believe in like compassion and kindness and how u always put others before urself. just this once, can u think of what U really want??!!

-ok.

-what does that mean ur so vague and weird and what does PUNCTUATION MEAN riv u never use punctuation!!!

-idk like. i just love you a lot. sorry for being weird but idk can we try it -i know i already said no or idk i dont know if i said no i was just kinda talking but idk ive liked u for a long time kinda but idk i was afraid u didnt like me as much as i liked u and that it would be unbalanced and stuff and i just idk i feel weird about it but i dont think bad weird just different weird -i love your laugh when you’re sleepy and how when we hung out on rainy days you would trace teeny circles onto my arm to the beat of the music playing and how you always make fun of me for sleeping with the windows open even when it rains but i know you do it too because i notice when we facetime and i love how you do it i talk about it so much and you want to feel like we’re together even though you’re in oregon and im in miami still. i like how all your piercings are on the same side of your ear because i told you that when people have the same amount on both ears it makes me uncomfortable in like the sixth grade. i love how you snapchat me pictures of weird bugs or plants we dont have here. i love how you smile more with your left side than right, like how you can see more teeth on that side? and how your eyes crinkle up and stuff. and how you make fists and disassemble them over and over and over again when youre thinking too much about your art or something. and how youre smart but you dont make like a big deal out of it like other people do and they brag about it but you just kind of are yourself and its beautiful and wonderful and i love you a lot and i think im okay with more than friends -Like idk how its gonna work really but i wanna figure it out. I want to figure it out with you. it’s been three hundred sixty-five days (and three hours), and im feeling hollow inside without you.

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Wide Awake (Music taken from Katy Perry)

I'm wide awake I'm wide awake

I'm wide awake Yeah, I was in my room I was working hard With the stars and moon I'm wide awake How did I read this book so slow

I'm wide awake And it's still unclear to me That everything I see Ain't always what it seems I'm wide awake I was annotating for too long

I wish I knew then What I know now Wouldn't stay up Would go lay down Checking grades hurt Is it even worthwhile To raise my grade up Up, so it’s not vile

pg. 25

Hello. IT’s me

(My grades are) Falling from an A They’re crashing from the top I'm not giving up tonight I'm gonna bring my grades back up

I'm wide awake Losing lots of sleep Junior year is keep -ing me up all night I'm wide awake I think I’ve been APUSH-ed too hard, yeah

I'm wide awake I’m on page 10 again I can’t concentrate My yawns are taking over (And it's too late) To still be up reading, Huck Finn

I wish I knew now What I need to know On my APES test That’s tomorrow I didn’t read the book When I should have Now It’s 3 AM and I’m trying to cram it

(My grades are) Falling from an A

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They’re crashing from the top I'm not giving up tonight I'm gonna bring my grades back up

Stomach rumbling Hope is crumbling I am trying to hold on Tell Nation that I tried That I cried and cried But I'm not APENG-ing anymore I'm wide awake I'm wide awake

(My grades are) Falling from an A They’re crashing from the top I'm not giving up tonight I'm gonna bring my grades back up

I’m wide awake I'm kinda awake I'm sorta awake I'm not awake I'm fast asleep

pg. 27

Hello. IT’s me

Morning Dew

“Through sleepy eyes, I see the red numbers on my alarm clock. 3:02 am. Letting out a deep sigh, I bring pull my body into an upright position and furrow my brow at the stiffness in my back. It wasn't as easy moving around at 73 years old. Leaning forward, I slowly make my way off the bed, letting my bare feet touch the cold, wooden floor. I slide on my slippers. Meandering to the kitchen, I hum aimlessly to a song that I couldn't quite put my finger on the name of. I start to brew my coffee the minute I enter the room. Leaning against the counter, I let the thick, bold aroma of coffee grounds fill my nostrils. Just thick smell of it woke me up a little. I closed my eyes. This has become a nightly ritual for some time now. When my coffee was done brewing, I pouring myself a large, steaming cup and made my way outside, pulling a worn shawl across my arms on the way out to keep in the warmth. I sat outside on the steps of my porch and looked up to the sky, drinking in the darkness and feeling the soft breeze on my face. I sipped my coffee, letting the tasty black liquid warm my throat on its way down. I did this every night, without fail,” every action she narrated in her head to keep from getting lonely.

Every morning, for the past 42 years, her husband would wake up and make himself a cup of black coffee. The rusted French press from their wedding sits delicately in the cupboard; for they traded it in for a newer coffee pot. The night was still and silent aside from the rare owl calls that reverberated off the trees. She walked towards the rocking chair on the front porch that her husband had made for her. Originally white, the paint was chipping and the rickety wood could break completely at any second.

The red cushion didn't offer much comfort from the hard wood beneath her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of her deceased husband’s cologne still lingered in the air. Her bottom lip quivered, she giggled and brought the coffee up to her mouth.

In life you will fall but you will get up if you help yourself. Even from the bad experiences, something always good will come of it. She had two beautiful children and three wonderful grandchildren that she loved so dearly. Her breaths slowed down and her eyes were closing. The morning sun sparkled off the morning dew.

Her eyes slowly opened to see a figure walking up to her. He looked to be a man; tall in height and skinny. He was draped in a long coat and a hat that covered soft grey hair. The scent that carried with him was the exact same as her husband. Her eyes lit up with joy and a smile crawled from cheek to cheek. Her shaking bony hands reached out to caress his arm. “My love, you're here,” she managed to whisper. His hands were outstretched to her; beckoning her to come with him.

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Shattered Three AM and I lie awake thinking.

My mind is fractured, scattered, shattered, In a million different pieces, yet always ending up back at you.

Three AM and I watch the moments tick by, Tossing and turning in a bed made for two, That now only holds one.

Three AM and I stare at the fan, Pretending the low murmur of its blades Is the sound of your voice telling me to go back to sleep.

Three AM and the room is spinning, I call out in the darkness, But there is no reply.

I grasp at the sheets, But there is nothing to hold on to.

Three AM and I need you here with me, I need you to hold me, To keep me safe.

Three AM and I hate you.

I hate the way you make me feel like I am nothing.

I hate that you left when I needed you most.

Three AM and I push the images of you from my mind pg. 29

Hello. IT’s me

And stop the tears from flowing.

Every night just the same.

Three AM and I still love you.

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Missing Me And Parts Of You "Carter.

It's Tuesday. Three days since you left. It's been 72 hours of anguish.

I'm laying awake at approximately 3:15 A.M., the same time you first told me you loved me. We were sitting on my roof, the part that extends from my bedroom window, the oak tree's canopy draped over us, creating our own universe. I remember laying next to you, looking at all the constellations and creating my own amongst the freckles lining your skin. You'd turn your head towards me and tell me I held an entire universe within my eyes. I remember laughing, telling you they were just a simple shade of brown, but you replied with saying my eyes were your favorite color. We just laid there, amongst the crickets and soft hum of the summer wind. You told me you loved me, and in that moment, I loved you too.

I remember driving aimlessly with you in your mom’s old Honda Odyssey when the world was asleep, taking lefts when the penny was heads and a right when it was tails. I remember we once ended up in that open field, across from the pumpkin patch. The street lights were iridescent and our fragile skin glowed. You grabbed my hand and we ran around in the knee high dried greenery for what seemed like forever, but not long enough. I ended up with weeds in my hair and dirt patterns across on my jeans. You looked over at me, ran off, and then came back with a ridiculously large dandelion, crowning me “queen of the field”. I didn’t have the heart to tell you the seemingly harmless plant was a weed. It seems you didn’t have the heart to tell me you could be a dandelion, either. My sweater still smells of earth and your cologne.

I remember dancing with you in the refrigerator light around your kitchen, as if we were on the most grand stage and our heartbeats were the symphony. You twirled me around and lifted me off the counter as I plied and piqued around the table. We didn’t even think about what came next; it all happened naturally. We were like the beautiful pair of dancers in my old jewelry box; fitting seamlessly in each other’s arms, dancing to the sound of our voices. I must’ve been too focused on your heartbeat and the way your hair blew around from the breeze of the ceiling fan to comprehend the words you were saying.

I'm now sitting on my roof, aloneness. I can see the moon through the canopy of leaves that used to shield us from the world. It's the same one Shakespeare wrote of and Armstrong dreamed of landing upon. It's the same moon you sang to me under, humming sweet lullabies and serenading me with your own compositions. It's the same moon we fell in love under, and the same one under which we fell out. pg. 31

Hello. IT’s me

I don’t think I’ll ever work up the nerve to give this to you. It’ll probably settle in the bottom right hand drawer of my desk, where all flightless paper airplanes lay to rest.

I just hope that somewhere, in some parallel universe we dreamt up, there are two people exactly like you and me who made entirely different choices and ended up together. That's enough for me. I just wish they were us.”

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The Dark Wizard The flames were catching up; I could feel them nipping at my ankles as I ran towards the horizon. I knew I would never make it in time to the train. My mentor, Aavior Loth, had told me that my best chance of survival was getting on that train and getting as far away as I possibly could. I had been assigned to him a couple years ago, and he had become more like my friend than just a mentor.

“You can try to run but you’ll never escape me,” boomed a voice from the sky.

“You want to bet?” I replied, gasping for air. At this point it was doubtful that I would get away, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I turned around and swung my sword in the direction of the dragon. I managed to only put a scrape in his scaly exterior but he still was not pleased with me. He responded to my stupidity with a loud screech and a shower of flames. I felt my slightly singed hair whip back and forth as I sprinted on. My sword weighed me down as I ran, the street empty except for us, the usual bustle of the evening commute nowhere to be seen. Most likely had all fled, too afraid to be seen near the one who defied Yulis Latimer, the dark wizard who controlled the world with an iron fist. I was really the only one stupid enough to defy him. Everyone else would’ve let him arrest those kids but it wasn’t fair, they were so young, they didn’t realize they had done something wrong and they certainly didn’t deserve to go to prison for it, but at least I wouldn’t be running for my life right now. I could still hear his voice echoing in my head, “No one defies me and gets away with it! I will have your head if it’s the last thing I do!” The blockade of buildings on either side of me seemed to close in as I kept running. I looked up at the sky, the clouds seemed to close in above me. I saw my reflection in the dirty, glass walls on either side of the street but I had immediately wished I hadn’t. My green tunic and leggings were torn, my bare feet were cut and bloody, and there was something wild in my violet eyes. I was only a block from the train at this point but it felt like I would never get there.

“Don’t let her escape!” Yulis screamed and the dragon released another series of flames. Having finally reached the train I grabbed onto the handle and pulled myself in but I was not prepared for what was inside.

Aavior Loth sat there with his legs criss-crossed in front of the fire, the woods enveloped us in a chrysalis of willow trees. Birds chirped around us and the crisp air reminded me of home.

“What is going on? How did I get here? This makes no sense!” The panic was starting to set in. I hadn’t allowed myself to realize how scared I was and now that I had, I wished I hadn’t.

“Someone needs to finally take back our kingdom from Yulis Latimer.” Aavior’ words were heavy as he spoke. His gray eyes looked as if they had seen far too much for someone who looked as young as he did. I couldn’t help but wonder how he got the long, deep, scar on his chin, but I didn’t ask.

“And you think I’m that person?” The world around us started to flicker.

“We don’t have much time, you need to listen. Once I leave you will be on the train again, it’s going to the capital city of Selvanus. I need you to retrieve the Crystal Sword.”

pg. 33

Hello. IT’s me

“What if I don’t want to?” The pauses in between the flickers were getting longer.

“There will be two stops, if you choose not to help, get off at the first one and you will never have to worry about Yulis again. If you choose to help, get off at the second stop and get the sword.”

“How will I know where the sword is?”

“Trust your instincts, they will guide you.” Then suddenly I was no longer in the forest but in an empty train car. What in the world did he mean, trust my instincts? Why was he always like this, so vague?

I sighed, sliding down the wall until I was sitting down, dropping my sword next to me. I already had a sword, why did I need this Crystal Sword? It was a good sword, given to me by my father. It only had a few dents, which was more than most people had but it still worked. What could I do with the Crystal Sword that I couldn’t do with my current sword? The rocking of the train soothed me. Maybe I would close my eyes for a spell. I hadn’t slept for...I wasn’t sure how long but I was exhausted. I leaned my head against the wall of the train car; my eyes sliding shut. It felt as if it was only a minute before my head bonked the back of the car as the train screeched to a stop. This must be the first stop Aavior had been talking about. I stood up and was about to get off when I thought about those kids, the ones I was running away for. I thought about their innocent eyes, sad faces, matted hair and torn, dirty clothes.

What would happen to them if I didn’t help? Visions of them tied up, tortured and dead danced in my head. I shook my head. No matter how afraid I was and how sure I was that I would fail, I had try for them. I sat down again, and suddenly, I was back in the woods with Aavior.

“What the! Again with the teleporting? Really?”

He just smiled mysteriously. “I knew you would make the right choice. Although you almost didn’t. What made you change your mind?”

“I thought of those kids I had saved. I couldn’t just let them die. Maybe I can’t defeat Yulis but I won’t go down without a fight.”

“Well done. Now Return. I will meet you in Selvanus.” His words echoed around me then as quickly as I had left, I was back in the train car.

“Why do you keep doing this? I wish you wouldn’t keep teleporting me all over the place,” I muttered sitting back down, my back against the wall of the train car. I fell asleep again until the train jerked to a stop, for the second time. “This must be it.” I picked up my sword slipping it into my belt and hopped off the train. I found myself in a bustling train station, filled with people going about their business. I sighed, pushing the wisps of hair that had escaped from my braid behind my ears and was about to take a step when the world flickered again. Why does this keep happening? I wondered. Thankfully its effects were ephemeral and it soon stopped. I continued to walk searching for Aavior Loth and this Crystal Sword I was supposed to find. I wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen.

“Ahh! What the! Stop scaring me or teleporting me randomly would you?” I couldn’t help but yell at him.

“Sorry Lexi. But what’s the point of having magic if I don’t use it?”

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“I suppose so,” He was always like this. “But I would prefer if you gave me some warning before just popping in.”

“A warrior must be ready for anything at anytime. Now, you need to get the Crystal Sword.” Aavior said as he started to flicker.

“What’s wrong with the sword I have already?”

“Nothing. It’s a perfectly good sword, but it doesn’t have a chance of defeating Yulis Latimer.” Aavior walked with me as I left the station and entered the busy street.

“And this Crystal Sword does?” I was starting to get impatient.

“Yes. It’s the only thing that can.”

“Really? What’s so special about it?”

He frowned in thought before speaking. “It’s made of blue light crystals from the city of Lenora. The crystals are infused with white magic which is his only weakness.”

“Oh. Where do we find it?” But to my dismay Aavior flickered away before he could answer my question. A loud screech came from behind me and I turned around to see that my dear friends had found me.

“I told you, you could never escape me.” Yulis’ voice boomed from the sky. I didn’t see him but I wasn’t going to wait around. I took off towards the nearest building looking for a place to hide. Once inside the building I dashed to the stairs. I wasn’t sure where I was going at that point but my feet didn’t seem to stop until I was on the roof. It was there that I saw the Crystal Sword but unfortunately I was not the only one who found it, the dragon was also there. Waves of fire covered the rooftop as I tried to make my way over to it. The sword’s blade had a blue tint and it had a purple glow to it. Unfortunately it was on the very edge of the roof. I fought against my better judgement and grabbed the sword.

However, I was not expecting the ground to start shaking. It was no doubt the work of Yulis but it did the trick. I lost my footing and tumbled backwards. I watched as my whole life flashed before my eyes, I thought of my family, the kids I had just failed, and I thought of Aavior and how he had believed in me and how I would never be able to finally make him proud like I wanted to do. The ground was getting closer and closer until, I was caught by something warm, human. My cheeks coloured when I saw Aavior had caught me just before I had hit the ground. “Thanks. I was about to be a goner there.”

“Yes, I’m glad I decided to stay in case Yulis tried anything.”

“Right. C-could you put me down please?”

“Why of course my good lady,” He replied setting me on my feet.

“What am I doing now?”

“You need to get to Aisu, the city of blizzards. That’s where Yulis is at his weakest. You’ll have the best chance of beating him there.”

“Can’t you just teleport me there?”

pg. 35

Hello. IT’s me

Aavior shook his head, his jet black, neck length hair swinging. “I can only teleport myself. Companion Teleporting is very advanced.”

“It is?”

“Yes, I may be a very high ranked wizard but even I haven’t mastered that yet.”

“Oh.” I was not looking forward to taking another train.

“Sorry Lexi. I would teleport you there if I could. There is a quicker way though.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Well, you know the story Arabian Nights right?”

“Of course! It's one of my favorite books! What about it?”

“How would you like to ride on a magic carpet?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Well, come with me then.” He replied with a smile, and began walking down the street, I started to follow him. He led me to a tiny but colourful shop squeezed between two bigger ones. “In here.” As I walked inside I am immediately rendered breathless by the colorful tapestries hanging from the ceiling and walls. Each one had a unique pattern.

“They’re beautiful,” I said as I ran my hand along the nearest one. It’s rough, wooly texture reminded me of home and was warm to the touch almost as if it was alive.

Aavior smiled as he saw me pick up another but he walked with purpose past me. After a couple more minutes he stopped in front of a rug with a swirling pattern of purples, reds, blues and golds with tassels on each corner.

“Ah. Here we are.”

“That looks like the one from the story.”

“That’s because it is,” He picked the carpet up, waved his hand and a sign that says: Rented appeared where the carpet was. “Come on.” Together we walked out into the empty alleyway and he unrolled the carpet and set it down. It flapped a bit then floated an inch or two off the ground. “Your ride awaits, my lady.” He said gesturing towards the carpet.

“Are you sure this thing is safe?” It certainly didn’t look as if it could support both of us but I sat down anyway.

“Completely.” He replied climbing on in front of me “Rise. Take us to Aisu.”

The carpet rose into the air, shooting off like a rocket towards the snowcapped mountains in the distance. I didn’t realize just how bumpy it would be; after the first bump I grabbed Aavior around the waist.

“Sorry.”I could feel my cheeks start to get red again.

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“Don’t be.” The wind whipped past me, my braid streaming out behind me like a ribbon.

“How far away is Aisu?” I had to yell for him to be able to hear me over the wind.

“At the top of the nearest mountain!” He shouted. “It shouldn’t take too much longer.”

“I really don’t think I can do this,” I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Aavior turned around and kissed me on the cheek.

“I know you can.” He whispered, his gray eyes filled with warmth and affection. I didn’t know what to say, he had never done that before. The whole time during my training I never once allowed myself to hope that he liked me too.

“I told you, you could not escape me!” Yulis boomed, his dragon spitting out ribbons of fire. He grinned nastily at me then began shooting balls of purple energy at me while the dragon continued to spew flames at me.

“Aavior! We have to go faster!”

“I know! Carpet, hurry!”

The Carpet sped up, everything around us became a blur. A moment later, we were whizzing into a city made entirely out of ice. Aavior jumped off the carpet. “Jump Lexi! I’ll catch you! The Carpet’s about to return to the shop!”

I nodded, jumping off and landing safely in his outstretched arms. He set me on my feet on the edge of the cliff then hugged me tight. “I believe in you Lexi. I need to go now, I have business to take care of back in Selvanus.” He whispered in my ear. “But I know you can do it.” He said, and let go of me, giving me a smile then disappeared. Yulis flew up on his dragon, his evil smile on his face and his green eyes filled with demonic glee.

I narrowed my eyes watching as they advanced towards me, backing me towards the edge of the mountaintop. I took both hands and swung the sword at the dragon’s neck. I knew that rocks were unstable but I thought this would work. The ground beneath me buckled and I went tumbling through the air until….

BAM. I woke up gasping for air in my bed. The room was quiet except for my cat purring. I looked over at the clock which read 3 AM. I should’ve known not to watch The Sorcerer’s Apprentice this late at night. I wish it hadn’t been a dream though, I wish Aavior had been real.

pg. 37

Hello. IT’s me

A Short Description of a Dream I’m in love with three AM, with the feeling of being half-asleep, with the remnants of unconsciousness mixed into the sensation of not quite existing. I’m in love with dreams. There is something gossamer, almost mystical, but still cozy and safe about three in the morning; it is a time at which nothing seems quite real. In short, it is the perfect time at which to experience a dream, semi-conscious and entirely whole.

To me, dreams feel like a satisfying, whole sensation deep at the base of my throat, a sensation that sticks with me for some time after the dream has finished. I rarely wake up at three AM, though it is not unheard of. When I do, I usually have double dreams: one right before three and the next at the time I normally wake up. Those nights are wonderful. Such a night happened recently, though I cannot remember my last dream, only the one at three AM. It was beautiful.

I could feel the warmth and the sunshine in my very bones, could smell the bright, fresh air and the sheer number of greenery around me: mosses, oaks, tall grasses, aspens, redbuds, endless varieties of flowers. The peacefulness of it all was astounding. I’m pretty sure I was barefoot and carrying a large basket. There was definitely a water pump next to me. The breeze sighed through the trees, and the leaves rustled. It seemed as if I was on some sort of hill, protected by masses of deciduous trees all in full leaf, standing alone beside a solitary stone house. I was contented, and could feel it as a pleasant pressure in the base of my throat both in the dream and as a semi-asleep person in real life. I somehow knew that while I was alone on the hill with only a basket, there were other people inside the house waiting for me. That knowledge, perhaps, coupled with the pleasant but temporary solitude, is what provided such a satisfactory feeling.

In retrospect, this description sounds kind of weird, but it is less about the actual meaning and events of the dream than it is about the feeling of happiness it gave me. I liked knowing that people were waiting for me, and the fact that I could be outside and alone at the same time without those people getting irate. Above all, the dream had a comfortable feeling to it, an almost familiar sensation. Even so, for some reason I found it exhilarating. It is strange how the subconscious works, especially in dreams. I do not know exactly what was meant by my dream, but the best part of it was that I woke up at three in the morning with a smile on my face. For whatever reason, I woke up feeling happy, and was able to enjoy the ethereal quality of the time in full. Quite simply, it was perfect.

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The Monster Under My Bed My anxiety spiked up the roof It was a never ending roller coaster.

What’s today going to be like?

My heart beats faster as my chest rises up and down.

My eyes widen as I look across the windows.

The horrendous scream Enters into my soul.

3 a.m. was the monster under my bed.

Little did my family know That I had a creature in my head.

The creature that slowly slithered into my brain.

The creature that blinded me with tears.

The creature that I like to call depression.

It stayed for a long time And couldn’t resist the night.

3 a.m. was the monster under my bed.

Success never came to mind Neither did hope or happiness.

School was the last thing on my mind.

It’s a prison for the underachievers.

People gave me looks and never talked to me.

Shyness took over my body like a cage.

Anxiety would crawl back even when I whispered one word.

3 a.m. was the monster under my bed.

pg. 39

Hello. IT’s me

Anxiety, depression and unhappiness Occurred in middle school in 7th grade.

As every day passed in high school, The creature slowly crawled out of my head.

Happiness finally came for me.

But the horrific memories will never be forgotten.

3 a.m. was the monster under my bed.

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Alone at Three a.m.

The moonlight gleams into my room, enveloping half the room in bright white light and half pale darkness. It bathes me in its silver glow as if I were a star in the beautiful night sky. It bounces off the mirrors in the room, as if the light were a living thing. The room looks even more bittersweetly beautiful than it usually does at this time, at three in the morning.

I look around my silver painted room, loving how the moonlight plays with the walls. The walls look beautifully, heavenly silver and pearly, as does anything when it is covered in three a.m. moonlight.

As did my love, back when she stayed with me at three a.m.

Back when she was with me, she looked like an angel, and I was her human lover who was been foolish enough to think our love could be eternal. The silver light would often, a forever ago, make her hair a halo in the argent light, a halo and stardust. Her face would be highlighted by the silver light, bringing my eyes to her angelic face. Even in an old T-shirt, she would always look as if she ruled a kingdom above, bathed in silvery light as she was. She was my angel, and I wished she stayed with me still.

For seeing her at three in those blessed mornings reminded me that even after all the trouble we had gone through, we could last. Even if I woke up early every morning, and even if she had to leave as soon as she was bathed more in orange than in silver, we still had moments where we could be happily together. Three a.m. was my favorite of the moments, for it reminded me of how incredibly lucky I was that she loved me.

But she didn’t love me anymore. How could she? For the worst act had befallen her, and now she laid in solitude, not awake at three a.m. Not that she ever was awake at three a.m., for she didn’t understand my love of seeing the world at such an early time. I could never explain to her how the world looked absolutely perfect awash in the moonlight as if there was no evil that could happen at that time.

She would laugh, saying that the world was always beautiful and that I shouldn’t lose sleep trying to see it that way. I would tell her that the world was at its most elegant at three a.m., and she would laugh and joke about how the world was most splendid whenever she saw me. I would tell her, in my most adoring tone, that the world was always grand whenever I saw her, but when she was a silver angel, it reminded me of how I had waited my whole life to feel this way. I had waited my whole life to love someone enough to wake up every morning just to see them in their beautifulness at three in the morning, and it ended too quickly.

I looked out at the moon as tears crawled down my face. The moonlight, that blessed, cursed silver light made the tears look as if they were magical, but the only magic they could perform was causing me to try to apologize to her again. The apologies poured out of my mouth, as they had every morning at three a.m. since she had left. She wouldn’t hear any of them, for she had gone far, far away from me. She had run, run so fast that my calls for her back were treated not as apologies but as curses.

I do not know where she ended up, nor do I want to, for what if our love has hope yet? Do I want to throw stones at the glass of her heart, when I myself am a shattered window pane?

How am I to not beg for her back, my angel, my love, if I am to find her? How am I to not wish with every bit of hope still left in me on every star and moon I see for her pg. 41

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to love me again? How am I supposed to ask her if I can stay with her for a night, to see her hair at three a.m. again, without reenacting the events that caused her to leave? How am I not to say I do not love her anymore if that is how she will be happy? How am I to try to conceal the pain that will befall me upon the utterance of that accismus? How am I to try to love her again, without causing the same pain?

Oh, but how am I not to try?

These are the reasons that I do not ask where she went, for I understand what knowledge will cause pain, and the knowledge of where my angel is will surely cause the greatest pain. The pain of anger, hurt, fear, causing events and effects I can barely fathom in my scariest nightmares. I cannot fathom wanting to cause another heart to shatter, so I do not reach for the knowledge of where she is.

I do have the knowledge of why she left, and the knowledge rots within me, praying that I tell another. I do know we were considered too devoted, for others could not fathom why we wished to watch the silvery moonlight and the warm daylight on each other. I know we loved too secretly, for people could never understand how we could be in love if we only saw each other at night and in the early morning. I do know they thought we loved too fast, for their picket signs and hushed whispers reminded us of how she deserved fancy dresses and a suitable date, not jeans and my silver, gleaming heart. I do know why she left, and it wasn’t just because of others, for others did not break her heart like I did. Others didn’t fail to protect her as I did, so she doesn’t love me as she had continued to love others.

If I protected her, she might still be laying here, awash in the moonlight of a new day, of a new three a.m. She would smile in four or five hours when she realized I had been awake to see her, to see her in her poignant beauty. She would smile and proclaim her love, and I would do the same, and eventually, we would proclaim such in front of our families. I catch a glimpse of a silver ring, glowing in the moonlight, and it is as if I was watching her leave once again. We would’ve been able to see each other in the midday, golden, glowing sun if I hadn’t most completely failed at protecting her.

I wish I had protected her from the evil we hadn’t realized would affect us. We thought we were immune, because who had loved more and more genuine than we? Who had wanted to see each other in the beautiful moonlight than we had? We thought we loved enough for the evils of the world would not find us.

But our love was not armor, as we had found out as she bled out her scarlet blood. Love, even our three a.m. moonlight love, can not protect from the pernicious bullets that fall out of their mouths nor the bullets that are shot from their fatal guns. I’d cradled her body as I realized her champagne hair would never be her halo, and her roseate lips, lips who pressed love unto mine, drained and turned to ash, turned to gray. I had watched, devastated as all of her, all of her love, all of her hate, fear, courage, hope, and happiness drained out of her like a bright red liquid. I held her as my tears, illuminated by the sunlight, poured out like my hope did. I held her body, her moribund corpse, as I tried to figure out how I hadn’t realized how the enemies of our love weren’t just opposed to us seeing each other at three a.m.

Those butchers, those executioners, were resentful that our eyes even met and fell in love. I held her as my voice rivaled the train that passes every morning at three fifteen a.m., sinking into the bottomless ocean of my grief for her as I pushed away the unimaginable.

How could I have imagined this happening, that our love would be ended in such a barbarous way? How could I not have, when we knew the dangers of love? How could we have protected ourselves

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from this? How could we tell ourselves moonlight would protect us when the moon is crime’s most silent witness?

pg. 43

Hello. IT’s me

Dark Succession Alan walked home, his clothes covered in Demon blood, his matted brown hair clinging to his neck and forehead. His muscles ached, his blade was stowed in his jacket, still sticky with the black Ichor of blood.

He did what he was taught by his parents ,and what he had learned from years of killing Demons, ghosts, and other supernatural creatures. As he reached his rundown apartment, he gave a jaw cracking yawn. It had been a long day of tracking and killing, and rushing around town to get rid of one Demon after another. Everytime he had thought he could go home, Azriel had called him with another Demon problem. His friend was quite helpful when it came to information, but Azriel was not a fighter, he was not quick and could not anticipate his opponents next move. As soon as he got inside, he stripped off his shirt going towards the shower to wash all the dirt, grime and Demon Ichor that covered him head to toe. He tried his best to get the dried blood out of his long brown hair. It reached to the middle of his neck, he put it up in a ponytail so it wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance. The blood didn’t even bother him anymore, he was used to it. But he wished it would all end, that it all could be over, no more Demons, no more hunting. Once he was finished showering, he put on a clean white t-shirt and black shorts, and climbed into bed. His eyes closed and he fell asleep.

The next morning, the sun peeked in through the blinds, shining on his face. The brightness of it woke up him, he had been fast asleep finally able to fall into a dreamless night. He got up tenderly, still sore from the events that occurred hours before. After taking a shower he got dressed in his usual shirt, jeans and black leather jacket then ate breakfast as he walked out the door. Despite the brightness of the sun, the air was cool and Alan's breath fogged up. The grass was yellow , and the trees were leafless.

The birds chirped , and the squirrels scurried. Alan made his way,walking for miles before getting to his destination.

It was a part of town the rich people never went to unless they were collecting their dues. The houses were close together, feral cats roamed about and homeless people slept on the sidewalks. It was not a pleasant place to be, but Alan had a job to do. He walked around the block, his senses acute and his eyes in constant motion. He investigated each shadow, stirred at every noise, and watched the people closely. A man caught his eye. He stood out from the block, his hair was slicked back and he wore a suit and tie. His entire outfit was polished and coordinated except his shoes, they were dirty and falling apart. Alan approached the man, and got a closer look. He asked him a couple of questions and the man did not respond verbally, but instead spit in his face. Alan recoiled in disgust, and cursed underneath his breath.With a mischievous look in his eye he spoke, “Christo” said Alan.

The man screamed after that, and Alan knew he had found his Demon. The Demon yelped one last time before dispersing into a million fragments. He hoped that no one else had witnessed what had just happened. He smiled, glad that he had gotten rid of him, at least for now. He continued to walk, despite the burning in his calves. He walked until the sun began to go down, and that's when he glanced at his watch constantly. 3 am was getting closer and Alan was dreading it. The day had been slow, he had only killed one Demon. That was strange, he usually got away with at least four. He knew something was up, and he did not want to find out. As he began walking back in the direction of his apartment he was greeted by an old friend. He was tall in stature, and a wide frame, shaggy blonde hair that fell in his eyes, deep blue eyes and an aura no human could match.

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“Hello Azriel. Any news?”

“You could say that.” He responded.

“What is it? What’s going on? There was only one Demon today. That’s unusual.” Alan remarked.

“Yeah. Things have been getting worse lately.” Azriel replied.

“A lot worse. I had to kill six Demons and five wraiths last night. That’s way more than normal.” Alan said worriedly.

“Lucifer’s planning something. Heaven’s been on high alert for days. I’ve been getting reports from Uriel and Anael for weeks now about increased Demon activity in their regions.” Azriel replied, a frown on his face.

“What do we do? If he’s planning something, then we’ve got to be ready.” Alan said with conviction.

“Alan, I don’t know. I do know the Angel Army won’t be happy to know I’ll be helping you. They may hate the Demons but they don’t like hunters much either.”

“So what do I do? If they think I’m not going to fight, they’ve got another thing coming.” Alan said fiercely.

“Fight. If you don’t, things will go downhill tonight.”

“Why? What’s going on tonight?” Alan asked in alarm.

“I don’t know for sure, but be on your guard. I heard from Angelo, Bahram and Haniel that 3am is going to be a nightmare. You’ll have to watch your back more than usual.”

“Alright. Keep me updated Azriel.”

“Count on it.” Alan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose out of habit from when he got migranes all the time. He headed inside his apartment to rest before going out again. It seemed he had only just closed his eyes when his alarm went off at 2:45. He groaned, rolling over and turning it off before standing, pulling on his boots and leather jacket, making sure his blade was still stowed in the inside pocket. It was, he sighed going outside and shutting the door behind him and walked briskly to the usual graveyard behind the dark abandoned church from the 1800s. Nothing had appeared yet. He looked at his watch, it’s numbers taunting him. It was 2:55. Five minutes until all hell broke loose. He pulled out his Demon blade fiddling with it as he waited. Soon three demons appeared and he rolled his eyes. “Here we go again,” he said as he fought it. As it shattered, he whipped around defeating the next one. It broke into thousands of pieces that swirled away in the wind. He sighed, rummaging in his pocket for a hair tie, to tie his hair up. He found one after a moment and pulled his hair up into a messy ponytail.

“What’s a hunter like you doing meddling in things you have no business in?” A low chilling voice spoke in his ear. He spun around, coming face to face with a demon. “It is my business if you’re hurting innocent people.” He said through gritted teeth, fighting the Demon.

Just before it broke, it spoke again. “You’ll regret doing that to the King of Hell’s best Lieutenant…”

pg. 45

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“Oh great..” He thought. “Now, I’ve brought on the wrath of Lucifer himself .Well done Alan. Well done.” He muttered bitterly to himself. Fifteen demons suddenly appear all around the graveyard. They didn’t look quite human, their dark eyes and battered bodies revealed their true nature. “Bloody -.” He swore unhappily defeating three before making his escape. He hurried back to his apartment, heading immediately to the shower.The next day was practically the same. The next morning, the birds no longer chirped. The evening was slow, and when he came back to his apartment Azriel told him the priest had called a meeting of Hunters and Angels.

At around nine, he headed to the church, sitting down on one of the pews. He took note of the salt that surrounded the church, a Devil’s trap. He was one of the first ones there,there we only a few hunters there, and no angels had arrived besides Azriel. The church was broad, with wooden floors, a wooden ceiling, and wooden pews. The ceiling arched, and the windows were mosaics of biblical figures.

An organ remained in the corner of the church, beside the podium. Banners advertising fundraisers were on the walls, and holy books were dispersed on the pews.

More and more Hunters and angels walked in, until all the pews were occupied. Some people chose to stand, and some of the Hunters avoided the Angels, and vice-versa. Finally, Azriel spoke. “ Thank you for coming. As you are all aware the situation has become uncontrollable. The Demons have regrouped and are attacking at staggering numbers. Something must be done.”

“What exactly?” Shouted a man, sitting on a pew in the front. He had long hair, and a gray beard. He had only one foot, and an eye patch. “What do you propose to be done Azriel?” It was a good question, and one Azriel did not have the answer to.

The priest spoke on his behalf. “That is why we are here, Jonathan. As most of you know, the Demons are regrouping and 3 am is becoming dangerous. Most of you are aware that 3 am is the point,where the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest. Heaven and the Underworld, Earth and sky have no boundaries, and the Supernatural roam free. The demons , witches, and apparitions grow strongest at this hour. As more Demons regroup, the more activity we see at 3 am. We need to stop the Demons from entering at these current numbers. We have two options , let them overrun us, or fight back. You can choose to fight with us, or suffer the consequences later.” The crowd stirred at these words, obviously uncomfortable. The priest continued, “ Lucifer’s army is rising.”

The air seemed to grow colder, and the atmosphere tenser. A woman spoke, “ My husband died in the last war. It won’t be easy, and people, Angels may die.” Azriel spoke “Is that something you are willing to risk? Is that something any one is willing to risk?”

Another man spoke “ My son lost his arm fighting a Demon recently. They are becoming stronger. If we do not stop them now, they will kill us all anyways. We might as well try.” Jonathan,the man with one leg responded bitterly “ Well trying isn’t always good enough”. He got up and pulled up his pant leg.

Where his leg once was, remained a stump and a jagged scar. “I got this twenty-three years ago, taking down a demon. He laughed at me once he realized the damage that he had done. He laughed until I destroyed him. I have no intention of losing my other leg, but if there's a chance that the Demon will come back, I want to be there to do the honors”. The hunters cheered at his words, while the Angels remained silent. Azriel spoke again “ We must fight together, Hunter and Angel if we have a hope of

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winning this battle. Suddenly the lights flickered and the candles blew out. The doors flew open, and all heads whipped around. The hunters simultaneously pulled out their weapons, and the Angels stood up , their celestial glow illuminating. The air became twenty-degrees cooler, and with every breath taken , the air fogged up. Suddenly an apparition appeared. She was menacing, wore high heels and a tight dress. “ Oh put your weapons down. Azriel how nice to see you again.”

“The feeling is not mutual” he bit back.

“Ooooo, how hostile” She responded.

Jonathan spoke “ How did you get in here?” Her eyes whiplashed to face her speaker. She began to raise her hand menacingly, but Azriel uttered his warning. “ Make a move in here, and you will surely die.”

“Ouch. Be nice Azriel, I was only playing around. I am a little disappointed no one invited me to the party. No snacks? How boring.” She laughed.

“What brings you here?” responded Azriel.

“You have always asked so many questions my dear” Azriel reached his breaking point, and bellowed “WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE?” The Demoness froze.

“This party is over, let the real fun begin”. At those words the shapes that surrounded the church were visible, and the sight was sickening. Only the strongest Demons could enter the Church , or even be on church grounds. It became apparent that the Devil's trap surrounding the outside perimeter of the church had been broken. An army of demons surrounded the church .The hunters charged out of the church, but the Demoness pushed them back. The Angels interfered, and flashes of light blazed through the air, as they fought the powerful Demoness. The Hunters charged passed them, and metal clashed against Demons surrounding the church courtyard. The angels all were tall and looked mostly human but had eyes blazing with heavenly light while the demons were long legged and there was something off about them, their black eyes dark with malice and rage.

Alan was one of them. His blade already in his hand, he drove it into the side of a lame demon. It was less powerful, as it could not walk on the church grounds. The hunters and angels were outnumbered 3:1. The situation was becoming hopeless ,as the number of Demons only grew, as the number of hunters declined. Alan stopped and watched the battle. He watched the Priest fight valiantly, alongside the other hunters. He saw Jonathan, engaged in a fight with a demon . The situation was hopeless. Alan ran back inside, where the Demoness laid on the ground motionless.

Azriel was waiting for him, his celestial skin illuminating. “We need to trap them, there is no use in fighting.” Azriel understood immediately, and retrieved salt bags from behind the podium. He tossed them to the Angels in less than a second, the angels were gone, redoing the salt lines that once were intact. Azriel remained. “ Lure the demons into one spot, and we can trap them again. Spread the message along”. With that Azriel left, joining the other Angels.

Alan rushed into the middle of the battle, stopping to help a fellow hunter, and passing the message along. “Herd them together, so we can trap them”. Without the trap the Demons, roamed around , surprising the Hunters at different moments. The Angels worked quickly, the Demons were oblivious to pg. 47

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their doing. Alan stopped Jonathan, who had just defeated a Demon. “ We need to herd them together, to trap them” Alan said. “ Why would we -” Jonathan responded until he caught a glimpse of Azriel working. “ I’m on it” he said.

He ran into the middle of the courtyard and taunted a demon. Alan began to look around and saw that the demons were nowhere near where he wanted them to be. He charged them, and they fought back.

He fought three at once, each taking turns to attack, striking several blows to Alan. Alan only managed to give back a few scratches, while he was receiving several. His face became red, and his clothes were being torn apart . Alan grit his teeth, as he fought hoping that Azriel and the other Angels would finish soon. Alan walked backwards, slowly to the center of the courtyard bringing the fight with him. He glanced behind him, and saw that the other hunters had received his message and were dragging the fight the same way.

Alan fell, as one of the Demons struck a blow to his knee. The pounced on him, and laid several blows all over his body. Alan’s time was running out, but so was theirs. He heard a demon screech in anger, and knew that the trap had been successful. The Demons had nowhere to run, victory was close at hand. The hunters fought back harder, no longer worried of the Demons sudden disappearances. Alan watched as one by one , the Demons were defeated, his only comfort as he was being attacked. Alan's vision became foggy , his head lolled, and his eyes closed as darkness enveloped him. When he opened them he was laid on a pew, surrounded by others in similar situations. A red towel was draped against his head and his body was covered with bandages. He was in the church, the candlelight flickering over his pale face, and parched lips. He groaned trying to get up, but a stabbing pain on his side knocked him back down, leaving him breathless. The priest walked to his side, speaking a blessing over him, then spoke. “ You fought bravely, Alan.” He nodded, closing his eyes again, and when he opened them again he was no longer at the church.

He was lying in a bed, in an unfamiliar sunlit room. He sat up, looking around for his trusty leather jacket and Demon blade. His jacket was folded and lying on the bedside table, his blade was on top. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, glad to see he was still wearing his t-shirt and jeans.

Grabbing his jacket and blade from the table he pulled his jacket on, sticking his blade in its usual place in the inside pocket. He looked around for his black boots but didn’t see them anywhere. He sighed, standing and rummaging in his jacket pocket to see if he still had a piece of rope for his hair. He didn’t.

“Oh well, just have to do without.” He muttered going to the door, opening it and walking down the hall looking for everyone. He walked into someone. “Oof.” He said backing up to look at the person. He saw it was Azriel. “Sorry.” Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Azriel laughed. “Clearly.” He looked Alan up and down. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. We won right?”

“Yes, for now but that doesn’t mean Lucifer’s given up. He’ll be back with a bigger army of stronger Demons. You can count on that.” he responded.

“We’ll be ready.”

As Azriel walked away, Alan asked one last question.

“How did the demons break the trap”?

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“They didn’t,” responded Azriel turning around, “Someone did it from the inside.”

pg. 49

Hello. IT’s me

3 Doubts at 3AM

THE CAMERA SHOULD COME INTO FOCUS AT THIS MOMENT. IT PANS TO THE LEFT, WHERE A HUGE, STONE HOUSE IS. LOUD MUSIC IS BLARING OUT OF IT. IT DOESN’T SEEM TO BE YOUR TYPICAL PARTY SCENE. THERE IS NO ONE OUTSIDE EXCEPT A DOG WALKER WHO TAKES LONGER TO WALK BY THIS HOUSE THAN ANYONE ELSE’S. HE STOPS OUTSIDE AND LOOKS AT HIS GLOW IN THE DARK WATCH, 2:24AM IT READS. HE SHRUGS AND THE CAMERA PANS AWAY FROM HIM AND BACK TO THE HOUSE. SUDDENLY, THE FRONT DOOR SLAMS OPEN AND A FRAZZLED 24-YEAR-OLD RUNS OUT OF THE HOUSE. SHE IS COVERED IN GLITTER AND IS CLUTCHING TO HERSELF, A LONG PINK BOA. A FRIEND RUNS AFTER HER BUT TRIPS AND FALLS TO THE GROUND. HER FRIEND YELLS OUT TO HER, BUT THE HICCUPING YOUNG WOMAN, MAKES IT DOWN THE DRIVEWAY AND KEEPS RUNNING.

THIS IS WHERE THE DIALOGUE SHOULD BEGIN

BETH: Wait! Sophie! Come back! Sophie what are you doing? Where are you gonna go?

SOPHIE: [SOPHIE TURNS AROUND] I don’t know, away from here for now.

BETH: But Soph, your wedding starts at 3pm. Are you going to be back in time for that?

SOPHIE: Maybe, I don’t know Beth if I don’t show up in time just cancel it. Okay?

BETH: Sophie, you can’t just do this. What is Peter going to think?

SOPHIE: He’s going to think it’s your fault I didn’t show up. Remember, he wasn’t totally up for this idea of a bachelorette party.

BETH: He’s not going to blame me for you leaving him, is he?

SOPHIE: He probably will!

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BETH: Sophie! Please just come back, this is totally so stupid.

SOPHIE: No! Go away!

BETH: [WHISPERING] I am never going to do this ever again, brides are way too temperamental.

SOPHIE: I heard that, thanks a lot! [FROWNING]

BETH: You're welcome! [SMILING]

SOPHIE RUNS AWAY. SHE IS CLOSE TO TEARS. SHE STOPS AND SITS DOWN ON THE CURB AND STARTS TO CRY.

SOPHIE: [SOBBING QUIETLY] What am I going to do now? [SHE LOOKS UP AT THE MOON AND STARTS TO CRY] Why does this always happen to me? With everything, I mean seriously what did I do wrong?

THE CURIOUS DOG WALKER FROM BEFORE, HAS STOPPED ONCE AGAIN TO STARE ACROSS THE STREET. INSTEAD OF A HOUSE THERE IS THE GIRL HE WITNESSED BEFORE. HE LOOKS DOWN AT HIS DOG. THEN, BACK AT THE THE GIRL BEFORE DECIDING TO GO OVER TO HER. HE LOOKS BOTH WAYS AND CROSSES THE STREET WHILE GETTING OUT AN OLD, WRINKLY, HANDKERCHIEF.

DOG WALKER: Excuse me! Miss!

SOPHIE LOOKS UP AND DOG WALKER HANDS HER THE HANDKERCHIEF. SOPHIE TAKES IT AND WIPES HER FACE WITH IT.

SOPHIE: Oh, thank you sir! I must look like a crazy person. I mean, seriously, who in their right mind is up at 2:30AM? Right?

SOPHIE BLOWS HER NOSE IN THE HANDKERCHIEF.

pg. 51

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SOPHIE: Oh my God! I just called you crazy, didn’t I?

DOG WALKER: I believe you did. [STARTING TO LAUGH]

SOPHIE: Oh dear! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did, but not to you, me. I am the crazy one. The one who’s friends threw her an epic bachelorette party and she just bursts into tears the moment a veil is mentioned. It’s not even the fact that it was a veil either that got me this way. It was the act of putting the three dollar veil on my head. And it’s not even the real one. I mean, can you imagine me with a real veil? They might as well cancel the wedding. I mean, I can’t be the only bride in the universe who is scared of things being put on their head right? I mean, umm. Oh god, what if I am the only bride scared of the veil! Do you think I am the only one? I mean be honest or lie either way I am most likely not going to believe you.

DOG WALKER: No, I don’t think you are the only bride who gets cold feet on their wedding day.

SOPHIE: I didn’t say cold feet, did I? Because I don’t have those you know, I just don’t like the idea of the veil.

DOG WALKER: I think it’s the idea of the wedding that frightens you more. I heard you yelling at your friend there and you just sounded scared.

SOPHIE: [SOPHIE STANDS UP] You think so? Because I don’t think I am.

DOG WALKER: Then prove me wrong, call your fiance have him come pick you up and explain to him why you left the party so early and see what he says.

SOPHIE: But technically it’s my wedding day. I can’t see him today.

DOG WALKER: Yes you can because it’s still …[IN A CREEPY VOICE THAT SOUNDS VAGUELY LIKE MORGAN FREEMAN] The Twilight Zone!

SOPHIE: [LOOKS AROUND THE STREET.] Okay? I will.

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DOG WALKER WALKS AWAY. CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON SOPHIE AS SHE PULLS OUT HER PHONE. SOPHIE DIALS A NUMBER AND HITS CALL.

SOPHIE: Peter, hey it’s me. I need you to come get me.

PETER: Where are you? What’s going on? Is everything okay?

SOPHIE: Yeah, it’s just I’m not sure where I am but I need someone to come get me.

PETER: Well that’s kind of a problem. What happened?

SOPHIE: [TAKES A DEEP BREATH] Well, Beth threw me this bachelorette party and we were all sitting there and they brought out this cheap veil and it just freaked me out a little. It’s not a big deal. I just need you to come get me.

PETER: Okay, just give me an address.

CUT TO: PETER PULLING UP BESIDE SOPHIE. SOPHIE GETS IN THE CAR. HER EYES ARE PUFFY FROM CRYING.

PETER: So do you want to explain?

SOPHIE: It’s really nothing. I just was at the party and Beth brought out this veil and I just got a little freaked out.

PETER: That’s not nothing. Do you want to talk about it? [PETER LOOKS OVER AT SOPHIE]

SOPHIE: I just... [LOOKS AWAY] I just have doubts about this.

PETER: About what? [LOOKS BACK AT THE ROAD. TIGHTENS GRIP ON STEERING WHEEL.]

pg. 53

Hello. IT’s me

SOPHIE: About getting married tomorrow. [SOPHIE LOOKS DOWN AT HER LAP]

PETER: Okay well, let’s hear them.

SOPHIE: Okay, [LOOKS FORWARD AT THE ROAD] well the first is what if we get married and then I find out that you’re a cat person, what am I supposed to do then?

PETER: [LAUGHS. LOOKS OVER AT SOPHIE] Well I can assure you that I would not force you into liking cats.

SOPHIE: My second doubt is what if we have kids and you decide you want to stay in the city, while I want to move to the suburbs?

PETER: [LOOKS BACK AT THE ROAD] Then we will talk it out and look at all our options. That’s what married people do.

SOPHIE: My third doubt is what if it doesn’t work. What if we aren’t meant to be together?

PETER: [SHIFTS HIS GRIP ON THE STEERING WHEEL. CONTINUES TO LOOK AHEAD.] I mean, that’s normal to think. This is a really big decision. [CAR STOPS. SOPHIE OPENS THE DOOR TO GET OUT.] I think with every big decision in life, you just have to give it a chance and hope for the best. You can never know for sure. [LOOKS OVER AT SOPHIE]

SOPHIE: [LOOKS AT PETER. GETS OUT OF CAR.] I hope you’re right. [CLOSES THE DOOR]

PETER: I’m always right, babe, it’s in my blood.

SOPHIE: [LAUGHS LOUDLY] Yeah, sure, whatever you say.

PETER: Sophie, I’m serious though, please give me a chance and I will give you everything in life. Please don’t let one little, cheap veil incident ruin our future. Everything will seem better in the light of day.

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SOPHIE: I’ll think about it, I’ll see you tomorrow!

PETER: I love you, babe, go to sleep, it’s late.

SOPHIE BLOWS KISSES TO HER FIANCE. SOPHIE WALKS TO THE HOUSE. SHE CLOSES THE DOOR AND SLIDES TO THE FLOOR EXHAUSTED. SHE LOOKS AT THE SMALL CLOCK ABOVE HER TOASTER. IT READS 3AM. SHE SMILES AT HERSELF AND WALKS UP TO HER BEDROOM. SHE DOESN’T STOP TO CHANGE HER CLOTHES OR ANYTHING. SHE SLIDES INTO HER BED.

SOPHIE: Who let me stay up until 3am the day before my wedding?

pg. 55

Hello. IT’s me

Nocturnal Nights Jack laid face up to the starry night sky, and focused on the glimmering silver moon. The sky was a shade of dark mulberry, with the stars glimmering like bits of silver sprinkled in the atmosphere. Jack began to close his eyes, drifting into his custom 3 a.m. nap, when he was awoken by an atrocious noise. “HOOT!” “HOOOOOT” rang in Jack’s ears. Jack rolled over onto his stomach clutching his long, narrow, golden brown, furry jack rabbit ears. A younger pygmy owl sat on a nearby cactus hooting away, staring at the dark horizon. He had chocolate colored feathers, streaked with a fine cream color. This owl kept his feathers neat and well groomed. His name was Owliver. Jack picked up a nearby pebble and lobbed it, hitting him harmlessly on the back. However, caught off guard by this, Owliver tumbled to the sand below. “¡Gracias! Mi amigo!” the cactus said. Owliver pushed himself up off the sandy earthen floor, he glared at Jack. “I’m sorry Owliver! I was only trying to get your attention!” Jack said, scratching his head in guilt. Owliver crossed his arms, “What do you think, Señor Puntiagudo?”. The cactus cackled “Your hooting is a poor attempt at singing.”. Owliver’s eyes filled with tears, “If you can’t appreciate me, then why am I here!”. Tears streaked down Owliver’s face as he began to fly away. “Come back Owliver!” Jack yelled, hopping through the sand chasing down Owliver.

Jack was speedy, his yellow fur breezed through the sand. His long, powerful, jackrabbit legs helped him spring off every landing. In the distance Jack could see a neighborhood of human houses, “Owliver this is really dangerous, I think we should turn back!”. Owliver was unresponsive, Jack became increasingly worried as the houses inched closer. In the distance Jack saw Dillon the armadillo resting up against the wooden fence to with of someone's backyard. “Hiya Jwack!” Greeted the young tot waving, completely unaware of the situation. Jack waved back, running closer and closer to the fence. “Mista Jwack you're wunning awful fast!” Said Dillon with a giant dumb grin on her face, still completely unaware of the situation. Jack strided to the fence, he focused on Owliver. Dillon now had a frightened look, she curled up into a ball to avoid the possible danger. Jack leaped through the air, he landed on Dillon’s shell and bounced off grabbing ahold of Owliver’s feet. “Get off!” Screeched Owliver, ruffling his feathers.

Owliver began to lose control, spiraling into the house’s backyard. Jack kept a firm grip, and Owliver tried to correct himself from flying into the hard ground. Instead, he traveled straight into a window, shattering the glass. Jack was knocked back into some bushes. Right before Jack went unconscious, he heard a high pitched scream. Everything went black.

Thump… thump….thump…Jack opened his eyes slowly. The sky was lighter, signaling the arrival of the morning. He was strewn about in a small chokecherry bush. Jack struggled, trying to escape the bush’s hold. “You're awake!” He heard a familiar voice say. He turned to see Dillon, with a handful of chokecherries, sitting right next to him. Jack flinched, not expecting Dillon’s company. “I tried throwing berries at you to wake you up but it didn’t work!” Dillon said disappointed. Jack gave Dillon a stern look but it quickly disappeared, it was hard to be mad at her because she was just a child ,and she knew no better. Jack scrambled out of the bush with assistance from Dillon, and laid face down on the verdant backyard turf. Dillon began shaking Jack: “Wake up Mister Jack!, we gotta save Mister Owliver!” Jack sprang up from the ground, “You’re completely right! Where did Owliver go, Dillon?” Dillon rubbed her head, as if she were some sort of fortune teller. “Um...Umm, Oh! A big bwack twuck with a, big bwack cage, pick Owliver up and take him away!”. Jack paced back and forth trying to decipher Dillon’s description, “Say, Dillon was there any lettering on this truck?”. Dillon nibbled on a chokecherry,

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puckering at the sourness of the crimson fruit. “It had bwig white letters! It said ‘Awnimal Contwol’!”.

Jack fell to the ground, pulling on his ears in fear. “No! Not animal control!” Dillon patted him on the head as if he were some type of pet, “There, there, Mista Jwack. I can show you where da twuck twavled down the stweet!” Jack bent down to Dillon, “Could you do that for me Dillon?” Dillon curled up into the wall and rolled from the backyard, climbing up the fence, and rolled toward the street. “Follow me Mista Jwack!” She giggled as she did so. Jack hopped over to the spot where she was. Dillon stood inches away from the busy street, Jack pulled her back a little bit, just to make sure the child stayed safe. “He went thataway!” Dillon said pointing to the left direction of the four lane road. Jack turned to Dillon, “I want you to run back and get Señor Puntiagudo and tell him what happened.” Dillon trotted back over to the fence that led to the backyard and began to climb over it. “And Dillon…” Dillon looked back to Jack, “Yes, Mista Jwack?” “Make sure you bring him here.” “But h-h-he’s a cacketus! How am I supposed to bring him!” Jack grinned, “Dillon, believe me, it’s possible.” Dillon nodded and disappeared into the backyard.

Jack faced the road, cars whizzed past and the wind breezed between Jack’s ears. Suddenly a silver sedan pulled over to the shoulder of the road. Two businessmen got out, and leaned against the small sedan. They rested for a while, drinking coffee, staring at the sun rising in the distance. “Man these long hours are killing me man,” said the one to the other. As Jack overheard them he devised a plan, he slithered under the car without them noticing. Jack then stealthily made his way to the the drivers side door. Jack stealthilyclimbed through the sedan window, and slumped into the grey-felted seat. “How am I supposed to drive this thing?” Jack mumbled under his breath. He scanned the cockpit of the car, looking at the multiple levers and dials. He noticed a silver key cemented in the wheel. “I see what’s wrong!” He chuckled trying to jerk the key out. He accidently moved the key forward, starting the car.

The engine roared, catching the businessmen off guard , spilling their coffee. Jack panicked, there was a big lever next to the seat with assorted letters and numbers. He fiddled with the lever quickly until he realized “D” was to travel forward. He set the car in gear and awaited a response. Nothing happened so he jumped down to the two pedals at the bottom. He pressed down as hard as he could on the first one ,and nothing happened at all. He then moved to the thinner pedal and pressed it down as hard as he could. Jack jammed the pedal more and it stuck. The car sped forward, and Jack hopped up to the the steering wheel and turned the car towards the direction that Dillon said the truck went. The one businessman turned to the other, “Did a rabbit just steal our car?”. The other rubbed his eyes, “That’s it!

We work so many hours, we are seeing things!”. The other nodded in agreement, “Let’s form a union!”.

The sedan sped through the street going top speed. Jack tried to turn the wheel in the direction of the animal control building, however, it did not work. He tried pulling as hard as possible , and finally the wheel turned completely. The car made a sharp right turn and began to head straight towards the animal control center. “Oh...no…” Jack murmured, jumping down to the jammed gas pedal and pushing on the brake to counteract it. It was too late, and the sedan plowed through the front entrance of the building. Jack was thrown around inside the car violently for a short period of time until it finally came to a stop. Jack opened the driver's side door and got out rubbing his head. He noticed everything was silent, he turned to see five employees cowering behind the front desk. “GET THAT RABBIT!!!” One of them screamed. Jack bounded down the cluttered hallways looking in doors trying to determine which one those monsters were keeping Owliver. He finally found a set of double doors, in it there was a room lined with cages containing all sorts of wild animals. Jack roamed the room trying to find the cage containing Owliver. “Where could Owliver be?” Jack thought as he searched cages upon cages. “HOOT! pg. 57

Hello. IT’s me

HOOT! Jack you’re here!” Rang in Jack’s ears. He turned to see a heavily bandaged Owliver in a cage.

“Owliver! What happened to you!” Whispered Jack. “There’s no time for that! You have to break me out!” Just as Owliver finished his sentence, the malicious animal control employee burst through the double doors. She held an electric prong in her hand “You rabbit! You will no longer terrorize this facility!” She furiously dashed toward Jack. Out of nowhere a cactus landed right on her face. “Señor Puntiagudo! You came!” Jack smiled jumping up and down. The employee began to scream as loud as she could trying to take the cactus off her face. Dillon swiftly grabbed her keys and began to free every single animal in the cage. In the midst of all the commotion, Owliver signaled for them to escape. “What about Senor Puntigaduo?” Dillon cried. “Don’t worry about me, mis amigos! Go rapido!” Señor Puntiagudo pleaded. The trio escaped through the front doors, into the daylight with the horde of wild animals. As the mess cleared Jack noticed Dillon began to cry. “Hey Dillon, don’t cry!” He said in a comforting voice. “How cans I nots cry Mista Jack, Sennor Puntiagduo is dead. I ownly have dis flowa to remeber him by!” Owliver’s eyes opened wide. “That’s it!” He hooted. “What Owliver?” Jack questioned. “Follow me home, that flower is super important!”

Jack and Dillon stood before Owliver who was still wrapped in bandages. Owliver planted the flower in the sandy soil, and took a handful of water and trickled it on the flower. “What is he a doing!”

Dillon said confusedly. “You see….cacti reproduce with their flowers! So this flower is the seed for the new…” Owliver was cut off by some noise from the flower. “Stupido owl! I was a great cactus before you had to get into trouble!” The three jumped in happiness and all cheered in unison: “Señor Puntiagudo!”.

Owliver put his head down, “I guess he’s right of me being stupid…” Jack disagreed. “Owliver, we need to treat you better next time. You can’t help that you hoot! You’re an owl!” “This owl is stupido! Why do you not listen!” Señor Puntiagudo said enraged. At that moment, Dillon sneezed. She was caught off guard and fell on her behind squashing Señor Puntiagudo’s flower. “It’s okay! We can just make more of him right?” Dillon said with a big grin on her face. Jack and Owliver stood looking at Dillon with their mouths wide open in shock.

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Night and Day 3 AM and the day beckons, Night no longer exists.

There is only one never ending day.

Light swirls and pulls me from beneath my sheets.

She spins and twirls me in a quick paced dance, With every step the monsters recede further into their dens.

3 AM and my bed calls to me, Inviting me to release, to relax.

There is only one never ending night.

Darkness pours and drowns me in my room, He pulls me close and rocks me back and forth in his arms, The promise of sweet dreams surrounds me in the form of a lullaby.

3 AM and the elements are at war.

Light and dark, Day and night, Awake and sleep, They duel above me.

The colors of sunrise are swallowed by inky blackness, Stars are outshone by the sun’s golden rays.

3 AM and my mind fights a battle, Unsure of where it stands, Which side it’s struggling for.

3 AM and there is silence on the front lines. pg. 59

Hello. IT’s me

A victor stands tall and proud in the moonlight.

Night cloaks me and draws me into sleep.

The champion...

At least for now.

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