Ferrum College Chrysalis Literary and Arts Magazine Spring 2021 by Ferrum College

Chrysalis

Literary and Arts Magazine

Ferrum College Spring 2021

Chrysalis

Literary and Arts Magazine Staff Abigail McGovern, Editor-in-Chief Kristina Cossa Mary Grace Faulkner Alyssa Hogan Braden Homsey Caroline King Jessica Price Norton Kacey Whorley Katherine Grimes, Advisor

Judges Lisa O’Quinn Blume, Photography Sidra Kaluszka, Art Cindy Rhinehart ‘97, Poetry Rex Stephenson, Prose

Ferrum College Spring 2021

Ferrum Flora and Fauna by Katherine Grimes

Cover Photo: Between the Smoky Mountains by Riley Church

Table of Contents

Between the Smoky Mountains by Riley Church Cover Photo Ferrum Flora and Fauna by Katherine Grimes 1 Abandoned in the Forest by Alyssa Hogan 4 Burnt by Caroline King 5 Sting by Jessica Price Norton 6 Golden Clouds by Shela Muriel 6 A Haunting from the Perspective of the Ghost by Abigail McGovern 7 Felipe by Suzie Maines 8 Oakdale Cemetery–Cherub by Jessica Price Norton 9 Sevillian Sunset Part 2 by Suzie Maines 10 Never Meant To by Chelsea Zizzi 11 Maud and Sadie by Lana Whited 12 Fall Day by Laurynn Hackett 12 The Perfect Shot by Suzie Maines 13 Sunset by Lake by Shela Muriel 14 Backwards by Caroline King 14 Sundown by Jessica Price Norton 15 Ferrum Afternoons by Madison Cogle 15 Winter Sunset by Laurynn Hackett 16 Winter Wonderland by Ryan Gobble 18 As the Falling Snow by Abigail McGovern 19 Feels like Magic by Alyssa Hogan 20 Not Socially Distanced by Alyssa Hogan 22 My Only Friend by Caroline King 23 Creativity by Caroline King 23 Grey Space by Alyssa Hogan 25 Winter Wonderland by Kacey Whorley 25 Oakdale Cemetery–Little Ones by Jessica Price Norton 26 Oakdale Cemetery–Jewish Section by Jessica Price Norton 26 The Skeleton Key by Shela Muriel 27 Olaf, Is That You? by Kristina Cossa 29 Life’s a Trip by Jacques Moore-Roberts 30 Tread Carefully by Caroline King 30 Let It Snow by Kristina Cossa 31 Don’t Fall by Mary Grace Faulkner 31 Masquerade by Alyssa Hogan 32 Former Self by Jessica Price Norton 33 Tree of Life by Kacey Whorley 34 Blue Ridge Beginnings by Madison Cogle 36 Rose-Colored Glasses by Caroline King 37 Alone by Mary Grace Faulkner 38 Happy Place by Riley Church 38 2

Losing the Mill Race by Danny Adams My Beautiful Opal by Caroline King Trapped: In a Winter Daze by Ryan Gobble Mi Caballo by Ryan Gobble Calling the Cows by Caroline King Get Your Own Bed by Danny Adams Cat Naps by Shela Muriel Mr. B by Caroline King A Curious Newcomer by Suzie Maines Spaced Out by Caroline King The Dark Side of the Moon by Alyssa Hogan Time by Caroline King Time by Mary Stoudt Fire and Ashes by Mary Grace Faulkner Fire by Alyssa Hogan Hollow by Jessica Price Norton Harmony by Mary Grace Faulkner An Owl and a Friend by Caroline King Robin’s Nest by Madison Cline Sink In by Jacques Moore-Roberts Dusk by Shela Muriel Bricks by Jessica Price Norton A Cozy Place by Suzie Maines Wanderlust by Abigail McGovern Walking Alone by Caroline King Appalachian Sunrise by Ryan Gobble Storm Approaching by Riley Church Like a Bad Love Song by Abigail McGovern New Dawn by Troy Smith Konstantine by Suzie Maines Beach House View by Kristina Cossa Walk on the Beach by Kristina Cossa Seymour by Suzie Maines Color Wave by Mary Grace Faulkner Darkness and Light by Kristina Cossa Last Bloom by Madison Cogle Shattered by Anne Hayden Hall Storm Blaze by Mary Grace Faulkner Franklin Lights by Alyssa Hogan Spring is in the Air by Alyssa Hogan

39 40 40 40 40 41 41 41 41 42 42 43 43 44 44 45 45 46 47 48 48 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 58 59 59 60 61 61 62 63 64 66 3

Abandoned in the Forest by Alyssa Hogan First Place Art

Burnt

By Caroline King First Place Prose

How should I apologize this time? Should I start with it’s my fault and I’m sorry? What about if I just break down completely? That’s what you’re looking for, right? You want me to feel like I am lucky that you stick around. You want me to get up every morning and, before I think of myself, think of you. See, that’s the thing. I think of you all the time—in fact, I can’t get you out of my head. Each day your possession grows stronger. It’s so overpowering that I sometimes forget that I exist. There are days when the light breaks through and I can see the girl that I once was. The girl that walked in a room and made everyone smile. The girl that just couldn’t be any happier. She had the most beautiful glow to her, something that was really stunning. She was the girl that made the world a better place by simply being in it. And then I think of you. And all those joyful memories seem to burn away and settle in the back of my mind like a forgotten pile of ashes. I treated you with so much respect. I bragged about you to everyone. I even went out of my way to make you feel like a king, because I knew that you were insecure. Now look at us. Look what you have become, and look at me. I am filled with ashes, and my light no longer shines. So let me start off the conversation with this: I know I made a mistake this time, but if you please forgive me, I promise that I won’t be this stupid again. I am so sorry.

sting By Jessica Price Norton First Place Poetry the smell is sweet but the thorns bring pain and yet for the rose I reach again for the part that attracts the part that appeals and forget - til it stings how it really feels

Golden Clouds by Shela Muriel First Place Photography 6

A Haunting from the Perspective of the Ghost By Abigail McGovern Second Place Prose Someone new has moved into my family’s home, left empty for years. They’ve brought with them children and dogs, laughter and love. Boxes and bags. For so long, this has been ours. Our footprints preserved in the dust on the floorboards, the faded wallpaper peeling with the weight of old sorrow. The sounds of our voices caught up in the wind, wailing every time the house shakes. When I turn the corners, I still see us there. My mother and father, descending the staircase arm-in-arm. The ballroom, full of strangers and friends whirling in elegant circles. Me, with curled hair and petticoats. The sound of my sister’s laughter, the clinking of silverware against china. A grave. This house is no longer meant for all this—for the dashing open of the shutters, the clattering of pots and pans, the scampering feet. And neither am I. Rather, I have shrouded my soul in cobwebthick silence, like ivy wrapped tight round my bones. I have slid into the shadows, lost in graveyard thoughts and rotting words. I was not prepared for this sudden light. This family, they burst through the doors and they let the sunshine in. They brightened corners that for years have been thick with secrets, dark with memory and with rot. They’ve wiped away the dust and the cobwebs and the stain of loss that I have never quite been able to shake, not in all my years wandering these halls—empty to the eye but so very full to the stranded heart. There are toys in the corners, dirty dishes in the sink, shoes in the hall. They’re sitting at the table. That old kitchen table, the one I sat at, ate at, laughed at. With the chips and scratches, still standing after all these years. That table, it deserves to have people there. This house, it deserves to have people filling it up with laughter and life again. And I want to tell them. But me? I have not long for this world. Already my words fade to whispers, echoes of what I really mean. Already my tongue has turned to mist, my fingers and hands too. And so, no matter what I try, it ends in howling. In flipping tables, rattling windowpanes, flinging open cabinet 7

doors. I am not trying to wail, not trying to shred wallpaper and lurk in the halls. I do not want to only be the shadow in the corner of your eye, vanishing when you turn your head. I am not haunting, I am hoping. Love ought to be breathed back into this cursed place. But no matter how hard I try, they cannot hear me. All I am is a rapidly fading flicker of anger and pain. I want to pass on the happiness that once lived within these walls, not all the sorrow. I want to rest. Before I am less even than words, what I mean is this: Houses are meant for living, breathing people, not ghosts or sins of the past. Spill food on that table, laugh and shout and cry, leave toys on the stairs to trip over. Break dishes not because you can do nothing else, but because accidents sometimes happen. Take this house that was once ours and erase us. Fill our ghosts with yourselves, real. I am almost gone now, and though I cannot say it without scaring you, I want you to know that the house is yours. Please, erase us from it. Every inch of shadow and sorrow, erase it all. I want you to know that I’m letting go. I’m letting go.

Felipe by Suzie Maines Second Place Art 8

Oakdale Cemetery–Cherub by Jessica Price Norton

Sevillian Sunset Part 2 by Suzie Maines Second Place Photography 10

Never Meant To By Chelsea Zizzi Second Place Poetry I never meant to fall in love with You, But the sweet feeling of bliss with every touch Whisked me away into a new state of mind Where every bird sings sweeter than the last. Being entangled like two vines fighting for light On the old light post on the outskirts of town: Dancing together and reaching for the top All while budding leaves and new memories. Your breath danced across my hair As tingles ran down my spine. Not a single thought races across my mind, Yet all in the world was right. It started with a joke and a slight smile And soon blossomed into everlasting memories. It was never something that I planned; To fall in love with You.

Maud and Sadie By Lana Whited

AN ODE TO GWENDOLYN BROOKS Sadie scoffed at college. Maud packed her books. Maud read French novels, Sadie plied her looks. Maud graduated with honors, acing every class. The teaching job she wanted swiftly came to pass Maud bought a cottage, wrote books and frowned on marriage. Their parents stayed busy pushing Sadie’s babies’ carriage. After years inspiring students, Maud left for Paris, France. (Her nieces and her nephews Got a literary inheritance.) Sadie, who scoffed at college, waitresses six to three, and tends a crowded cottage, on her sister’s charity.

The Perfect Shot by Suzie Maines

Fall Day by Laurynn Hackett

Sunset by Lake by Shela Muriel

Backwards By Caroline King I think numbers are prettier if they’re odd. I want take the beaten path, Instead of the clearly paved one. I would rather you look at me funny For simply speaking my mind. Following the crowd is too simple. I want to live a life that fills my heart with passion, Fills my lungs with exhilaration, And fills my mind with wild thoughts of adventure. I would choose to hear the old man’s stories, Rather than listen to your “tea.” I want you to call me crazy for simply being me. 14

Sundown

By Jessica Price Norton My heart races Like the sun across the sky— At the end of this long journey I will be in your arms Like the sun dives beneath the ocean In search of the moon: I will find you In the dark Ferrum Afternoons by Madison Cogle

Winter Sunset by Laurynn Hackett

As the Falling Snow By Abigail McGovern I wish to be mysterious as the last touches of inky blue staining the sky As the sun sinks beneath the horizons, whispering the day goodbye. Stubborn as the moon’s fierce white light, As it guides your way through the long winter nights. But more than anything, my love, you must know, I wish to be as the falling snow. Beautiful without being loud, Falling softly yet still remaining proud. I would like to brighten the night, Reflecting starshine in soft glowing white. Flushing faces, catching in hair, Reminding: this is the season when love is in the air. I wish to be as the falling snow, Capturing the precious things—the footsteps of the deer and the crow. I would like to be as fresh footprints winding down the track, Blank white promise ahead, a path behind so you may always find your way back. My love, there are so many simple, fierce, beautiful things to be, But I hope, when you see the season’s first snowflakes, that you think of me.

Winter Wonderland by Ryan Gobble 19

Feels Like Magic by Alyssa Hogan

Not Socially Distanced by Alyssa Hogan

Creativity by Caroline King 22

My Only Friend By Caroline King Jenna is my best friend. We have known each other since we were 6 years old. Now, it is my 15th birthday and my mom is letting me invite some of my friends over for a pizza party after school. I invited all the boys from my soccer team, but I don’t think that they will come. I don’t really fit in at school because my best friend is a girl. Jenna and I are constantly being accused of being boyfriend and girlfriend. It used to bother me, but Jenna said not to worry about the opinions of immature idiots. She always makes me smile. No matter what kind of day I am having, Jenna always knows how to cheer me up. My mom said that she was the best friend that I could have asked for. My mom also knew that we were just friends, so she always let Jenna come over and stay the night. One time, right after Jenna had her 10th birthday party, she had to go away for a little while. She missed two weeks of school and, on the Tuesday of the third week, everyone started crying because they missed her so much. All the boys from my soccer team kept coming up to me telling me that they were sorry that she was gone. “She will be back real soon,” I told them. They just looked at each other with these expressions of confusion and pity. I didn’t understand why everyone was so sad. Jenna was only on vacation visiting family out west. Well, at least that’s what my mom told me. When I got home that evening, my mom was crying. I didn’t want to know what was wrong, so I just hugged her and told her that whatever had happened, it was going to be okay. Then, I told her that when Jenna came back from her vacation we would all celebrate with ice cream. For some reason, this only made her tears fall faster. I guess she was just 23

missing Jenna, like everyone else. That Friday, we went over to Jenna’s house to visit with her parents. They were very sad. I could only imagine how much they must be missing her. But I told them not to worry because Jenna would be back soon. There were a lot of strange people at Jenna’s house that day. Some of them were friends of her parents. Some of them were family. On the way home, I asked my mom why we went over there. Her eyes teared up again and all she could get out was, “I’m so sorry, George.” Two weeks later, I was sitting in my room and I heard a knock on my bedroom door. When I opened the door, there was Jenna! I had never been so happy to see someone in my life. After Jenna came back, everything was normal for a while. Then one day, my mom took me to see this doctor. I think he was some kind of pervert or something because every time mom took me there, he would ask me when the last time I “really” saw Jenna was and how it made me feel. I have been going to that same stupid doctor for 5 years now and the only thing that seems to be changing is the billing statements. It is almost time for my party now. Jenna rode home with me after school, and the only other kid who is coming is Ryan, and that is because his mom is making him. He will still have fun though because, unlike me, Jenna knows how to make everyone feel included. Mom called up to us that Ryan was here, so me and Jenna ran downstairs to greet him. He said hello, and handed me my gift. My mom thanked him, but I was upset with him. How dare he only speak to me and not to Jenna? I was tired of people being quiet towards her. Ever since she came back from vacation, no one would talk to her. The teachers had even stopped calling her name on the roll. I don’t understand how they can be so mean to someone who is so kind. Now Ryan has come to MY house for MY birthday party, and is refusing to speak to MY best friend? I have had enough. I yelled at him and told him that if he couldn’t speak to Jenna who was right beside me, then I didn’t want his stupid gift, or for him to stay at my house. His mom gave my mom a sharp glare and then told Ryan to come on, they were leaving. Mom just closed the door behind them and looked at me with tears in her eyes. This was the same look she gave me when Jenna first left for her vacation. She didn’t say anything this time either. All she muttered was, “I’m so sorry, George.” So I just teared up and told Jenna that we were going back upstairs. Wuthering Heights 2015 by Tina Hanlon 24

Grey Space by Alyssa Hogan

Winter Wonderland by Kacey Whorley 25

Oakdale Cemetery-Little Ones by Jessica Price Norton

Oakdale Cemetery-Jewish Section by Jessica Price Norton 26

The Skeleton Key By Shela Muriel It’s late one evening and you are busy going through some old boxes you found in the basement. As you move some old photo albums out of the way, your hands graze a small wooden box with metal hinges that is already splintering. You get curious, wondering why the strange wooden box was inside one of the cardboard boxes. You pick the box up carefully, worried that you might break it, or fearing that it would break at the touch. You examine the box closely and notice an engraving of some kind on the lid, but it is covered in dust. Bringing the box to your mouth, you blow on it as dust flies all over the place, nearly triggering your asthma. You cough briefly as the dust finally clears. “What is this?” You question when you look at the lid, only to see that a skull is embedded in it. Its darkened design stares at you, willing you to open it. You check the cardboard box where you found it, wondering if the key had fallen out; however, as you look for it, your fingers touch something metal. Flipping the box around, you see that at the bottom is a metal key that you assume would go to the box. Pulling it from the bottom, you look at it briefly, until your eyes land on the small keyhole. You stick the key into the hole and turn it one way until the metal lock snaps and falls off. Nervously, you open the box, and inside is an iron key of some kind. You pick the key up from the box and place the empty box on the ground. You move the iron key around in your hands, wondering where it came from. As you’re examining it, your front door opens, and you look toward the staircase as you hear someone calling your name. It sounds like your mother. You place the key back in the box and make your way upstairs. “(y/n) I’m home!” your mother calls out. “Where are you?” You step out of the basement and enter the hallway near the front door. Your mother turns and sees you with a smile on her face. “There you are,” she says. “Hey mom,” you respond. “How was work?” “You know how it is,” your mother says. Leaving your mother to it, you go back down into the basement and pick up the key you found. You plan to take it with you everywhere you go, wondering if it could unlock any door. However, when you enter the hallway, you notice a strange door with a skull. Seeing as how you had never seen anything like it before, you walk over to it and knock on the door, thinking someone or something was on the other side. 27

“Use the key…,” says a strange voice on the other side. You gulp nervously as you look down at the lock, only to see that it is the same size as the skeleton key you had found. Maybe there’s something on the other side that you don’t expect. Without hesitation, you insert the key into the lock and turn it. The door creaks open and you are presented with darkness. Looking at your hand, you notice that the key is glowing bright red in the darkened corridors. Instinct tells you not to enter, though you can’t contain your curiosity. Gathering all of your strength and bravery, you step into the hallway, as the key begins to glow brighter the further you walk in. After a while of walking, you are about to give up and turn around but, just as you are about to turn around, you notice a new door which creaks open slightly. The key in your hand begins to vibrate as you make your way toward the door. You put the key in your pocket and push the door open. The minute you step through, you find yourself in a strange place that looks exactly like your house, but the difference is the amount of cobwebs that are in every corner of the house. “Hello?” you call out, but when no one answers, you decide to walk further inside, making sure to keep an extra close eye on the door you came through. Your stomach is in knots and you aren’t sure what you’re about to endure. “Is someone here?” You hear a creak coming from somewhere upstairs and decide to investigate. As you walk upstairs, the creaks get louder with each passing minute until, eventually, you get to the second floor, only to find that no one is there. “Maybe I’m hearing things,” you say, but when you turn to leave, you hear another creak and quickly turn around. Inside one of the rooms, you notice a shadow passing by the door. Your entire body has been screaming, yelling at you to turn around and go back the way you came. However, you don’t let it go that easily and race to the door, ready to pounce if someone tries to attack you. You push the door open and step through, though when you enter, all that is there is an empty room. Turning around, you get ready to leave the room, when you begin to hear someone crying. Your hand is just about to touch the handle when the crying grows louder. You turn around and notice a woman facing the corner of the room. “Miss?” you say as you make your way over to the woman. “Are you okay?” The woman stops crying as she lifts her head. You are about to touch the woman, when she began to laugh. You nearly jump out of your skin when the woman turns around and looks at you with her cold dead eyes. 28

“You found my key!” she says. “You are mine now!” You scream and nearly jump out of your skin. You do not want to stay in the house any longer. Suddenly, you find yourself backing away from the woman as she begins to approach you, nearly grabbing you with her cold hands. You turn and run for the door; pulling the door open, you race back down the stairs and make a run for the door you came from. Behind you, the woman chases you. She has no intention to stop. All you can do is hope that you can get to the door in time. The minute you get downstairs, you see the door you had come through and race for it. Your heart races as you struggle to put the key into the lock, while the woman continues to approach you. “Please! Open!” you exclaim as you stumble over yourself, until you finally get the key into the lock. With a twist of your wrist, you turn the key in the lock and push the door open. You look behind you and see that the woman is getting closer. You run through the door and slam it shut, making sure to lock it behind you so the woman is unable to enter. Turning on your heels, you run for the opposite end of the dark hallway until you find yourself back in your basement. You slam the door shut, lock it, and put the key back where you got it. No way are you going through that door again—nor would you even touch an unfamiliar object again!

Olaf, Is That You? by Kristina Cossa 29

Life’s A Trip By Jacques Moore-Roberts Catch your dreams and never let go Ice cold is the heart that was made of stone Feeling alone even though he knows he is not on his own But the mind wins the battle against the heart of what’s wrong or right He loses to himself time after time Night after night He tells himself bad things but his other half rebels He is literally a human form--heaven and hell Good and bad, happy and sad He knows his bright future will eliminate the hurt from his dark past Hard times never last and good times come and go Life is about balance, but only he knows he himself can walk the tightrope Life’s a trip ain’t it

Tread Carefully by Caroline King 30

Let It Snow by Kristina Cossa

Don’t Fall

By Mary Grace Faulkner I’ve been watching her. She used to be so bright. A shining reflection of the glory I betrayed. I watched her blaze and flicker and finally fade, like a dying ember. Suffocated almost to going dark. Seeing it hurt, an echo of when I fell. She’d been my symbol that someone could stand. That someone could keep fighting. If she falls, what hope is left? I couldn’t sit by and watch any longer. So I took the form of a human, tried to show her the way back to the light. She saw straight through, knew that I was no true believer—I’d fallen too far to act like one. I disappeared, watched her worry and wonder at the fate of my pretended human, if she’d failed him. I watched her spiral into even deeper depression, the darkness around her almost tangible. So thick and deep that it drew more fallen, like me, anxious to see the fall of one once so bright. I hung back as they clustered around her, whispering lies. Was there nothing I could 31

do? I could not go outside my nature as fallen, a rebel and enemy of the light. Maybe another way… “Hey, Asher, are you okay?” she called. We’d been friends for months now, in this second human form. This had to be slow to be convincing. The other fallen thought they knew what I was doing. That I was going to darken her in ways she’d never known. In a way… “I’m alive. How about you?” That grimace, the slight flicker of the mask she wore now to hide the darkness. She was beginning to trust me. “Same.” Later that night, she comes back, always so caring for everyone but herself. “Really, what’s wrong? You’re not acting normal.” My eyes drift away from hers, throat jamming. I hadn’t anticipated this being difficult, but force words out anyway, falling back on song when words fail me. “Still to come, the worst part and you know it, there’s a numbness in your heart and it’s growing…” My voice scratches with tears as I whisper, “When there’s nothing left to stand on, what can you do but fall?” I did darken her. Brought doubt into her mind, made her see the chasm of darkness that she almost leaped into. Instead...my little lantern found her way back to the light. And though I am yet lost, I am not wasted. For “If I can stop one heart from breaking, my life shall not be lived in vain.” Song lyrics: “A Comet Appears” by The Shins. Last line: Paraphrase of a Christina Rossetti poem.

Masquerade by Alyssa Hogan 32

former self

By Jessica Price Norton so here we are again tonight a friend a foe a lover we mustn’t tell our mother how we fought and killed each other i left you in my past a forgotten memory a shadow i look back on just a different part of me but i loved you and i hate myself for not having control over situations in my life that made me play this role this psychotic anxious broken girl who looks back on you and cries cause we never even got a chance to say our last goodbyes i can’t even imagine that it was a painless death cause i watched it i was there when you took your final breath you were beautiful and perfect you were perfectly impure and i wish that i had realized it before i closed the door but now that we’re alone again and seeing eye to eye i guess i don’t have to pretend i’m really glad you died and now i don’t have to act like you were better than i’ve become i can see you put you in your place i know where i come from and where i am today i know that you would never have survived you should thank me cause i spared your gentle soul this painful life and now that we’re alone i’m going to kill you this time too hold you close until we join as one then tell you that we’re through and even if we die tonight no one will ever know because you’re in my past, and i can never let you go 33

Tree of Life by Kacey Whorley

Blue Ridge Beginnings by Madison Cogle 36

Rose Colored Glasses By Caroline King When we are children, Our parents are supposed to be our protectors. No matter what they do or say, We will always take their side. But there comes a time when the rose-colored glasses are stripped from our eyes. We then begin to see things as they are. That our parents are flawed. That our parents are not perfect. That they can simply never reach up to our childhood expectations. However, after we realize this, Our love for them doesn’t change. See that’s the thing, Reality allows for us to accept imperfection. It allows us to love those that others see as strays, Falling from that imaginary path of perfection that everyone strives for. Reality is very powerful. For some, it is scary. For some, it is hard to face. For some, it comes effortlessly. For me, I wish it had come sooner.

Alone By Mary Grace Faulkner Darkness, doubt, despair; all defend only themselves. Is there anyone left who would follow a better way? Race riots, election riots, supposed friend slinking away when called on to defend the other. Look out for yourself, don’t count on anyone else. Only help those like you, only help when you get something out of it. If there is only darkness, can anyone see that we’ve lost the light? “What are you looking for?” A stranger sees me wandering the twisting corridors, takes me to the right place, and disappears, long blond hair bobbing on his back. Without even mentioning his name, or waiting to be thanked. “Ramble as long as you need. I’m listening.” One friend answering a midnight phone call, listening to the other stumble and hesitate and say things no one should ever have to say. Simply being there, long after the rest of the world is asleep. Maybe there is hope, hidden behind these people, the Light that leads them. But there are others. Outnumbering these bright ones by far. “You’d miss me? Really?” That odd look in the eyes, the disbelief that someone might truly care. “God’s perfect. He would never want me.” Lost. As if abandoned. No light left to find the way. They’re wandering alone in the darkness. We had one mission. We’ve failed them.

Losing the Mill Race by Danny Adams

Happy Place by Riley Church

My Beautiful Opal by Caroline King

Trapped: In a Winter Daze by Ryan Gobble

Mi Caballo by Ryan Gobble

38 40

Calling the Cows by Caroline King

Get Your Own Bed by Danny Adams

Cat Naps by Shela Muriel

Mr. B by Caroline King

A Curious Newcomer by Suzie Maines Disney Wonders by Emma Brubaker 41

Spaced Out by Caroline King

The Dark Side of the Moon by Alyssa Hogan

Time By Caroline King Time is going by so fast I cannot seem to slow it down Each day ends sooner than the next And I keep trying to fit so much into these little decimals of time I look back on what is now the past and it only seems like yesterday So today I am going to try once again I hope that I can find a spare second to breathe Because time waits for no one And time isn’t waiting for me.

Time by Mary Stoudt

Fire and Ashes By Mary Grace Faulkner

Smoke. After blowing out the candle, sinuous, winding coils of grey smoke twist upwards, never still for a moment, beautifully distracting. Drawing one’s eyes to the elegance of its change, the tiny ashes of the shining moments float away. So bright, then when snuffed out, their silver memory still alluring, until with a final, whispering breeze, they drift away as if they had never been. Leaving naught but blackened wicks and melted, colorless wax behind. Is the flaming worth the burning? Are the flames worth the ashes?

Fire by Alyssa Hogan 44

hollow By Jessica Price Norton

nothing left, like the empty hollowed exoskeleton of a cicada

Harmony by Mary Grace Faulkner 45

An Owl and a Friend by Caroline King

Robin’s Nest By Madison Cline A round robin soars through the cherry trees Her apricot feathers ruffling in the wind Blush petals catching under dull black wings Carefully searching for her next treasure. She flies over a bubbling stream Filled with gleaming minnows And meets a friendly raven. “Hello Robin!” “Good morning Raven!” He hops around an iridescent object, inspecting it closely. “Would you like this fish scale? I’ve already paid The Wise Human today.” “Thank you!” She scoops it up in her nimble beak And carries it to her nest. Robin wonders why The Humans call ravens omens of death; She thinks they’re sleek and elegant Dark curious eyes shining Coal-black wings as peaceful as the night sky. Her begonia-lined nest sways in the wind And the rusting chains creak and moan. She gazes upon her speckled turquoise eggs And once satisfied, glides on the breeze And touches down on the peeling white porch. “Back again, are we?” The Wise Human smiles And tosses Robin a scrap of periwinkle thread. The Little Human giggles And offers a silk ruby ribbon from her hair. Robin chirps pleasantly and perches on her shoulder Then flutters back to her vibrant nest. She weaves the gifts into her cozy home And settles onto her precious eggs. Mine will be the prettiest nest of them all. 47

$ink In By Jacques Moore-Roberts Money won’t change you, but it might change other people and If it hurt every time you love You should start loving different People aren’t really real on things--but then-Maybe I’m just being sensitive One thing about me, I’ll be myself--I got my own image and I always paid my dues when it came time for me to owe - semblance I can’t joke about being broke because I was a broke treasure No food...my stomach was on ‘E’ But I didn’t feel no pressure When I was young, I lived life like I didn’t know better Then it hit me when I turned sixteen--things got real tragic Had PTSD ever since I was ten, but I ain’t never talk about it You can check my chest --I guarantee you will find a heart inside it My mama always told me ‘boy you got the blood of a survivor’ I love my friends--ain’t no crossing --we got loyalty established If you can’t say the same about your friends--why are you around them

Let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in Let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in The contender is getting treacherous Like the war will never end It’s a struggle to survive Just like living on the edge I got too much on my mind when I try to go to bed When I try to get away - that’s when I sink in When I try to get away - that’s when I sink in When I try to get away - that’s when I sink in When I try to get away - that’s when I sink in My people that feel stuck in the hood, I want you to know you’re not Others thirsty over money when it’s close and they can’t touch it How do they feel entitled to something and they didn’t work for nothing People with the biggest hearts usually get the most of trauma I’m just speaking intelligently because I have seen it happen to my mama Let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in Let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in - let that sink in Sink in

Dusk by Shela Muriel

BRICKS by Jessica Price Norton I gave up on breaking down your walls And decided to build my own So I could at least have a place To hide from my failure – If I must be alone I can say I put myself here Rather than admit That this is the default of your rejection Pandora’s box contained no Hope at the bottom I am stung by Despair with no kiss for the pain Darkness falls And I build my walls.

A Cozy Place by Suzie Maines

Wanderlust By Abigail McGovern I am addressing this letter from me to the west wind, For I am looking for some place to settle my soul, my friend. I am through with having roots in the same old place, With always coming in second in the day-in, day-out rat race. Somewhere out there is a wide open sky With stars abound, begging me to come on, fly. From dusty roads to cobblestone streets, I am desperately searching, seeking somewhere to settle my feet. There are pieces of my soul that need dusting off, mending, Corners of my heart with undiscovered ambitions still pending. Are there lessons to be learned from the stars’ ancient light? Stories told in birds’ pattern of flight? Up north, is my name written in the falling snow? These are the things that I would most like to know. Could you help me to walk on ancient battlefields among the ghosts, Look up at ancient ruins and learn the half-forgotten stories that matter the most? Fall up into the lights of the aurora borealis, Find my ancestors’ stories in catacombs, under old palaces? Follow old roads and walk history’s line, Learn to fathom my own place in the complex network of time? With your help dear friend, I will cut all the strings and set myself free, Start by walking west, under the old pine trees. I will cobble together a new body from bygone tomes, Tell my stories in footsteps wherever I roam. I will be made of ancient ruins and half-hidden glens, Learn where the eagles fly and the bears make their dens.

With your blessing, I am blown from place to place and starting a new life, Clever, curious, and free from strife. From now on, I will be made of dead languages and starlight, Sandy beaches and clear winter nights. Lost and found again among the birdsong, I’ve finally and sincerely found where I belong.

Walking Alone by Caroline King 53

Appalachian Sunrise by Ryan Gobble

Storm Approaching by Riley Church

Like a Bad Love Song By Abigail McGovern I woke up this morning with my heart stitched to my sleeve for all to see, All the bright, broken, or bloody pieces of me. I’ve been walking a path that’s riddled with holes And I just keep going in the same old circles. And isn’t that sort of like a bad love song, The kind that’s always playing when you turn the radio on? The kind with the sad guitar, And wondering just what road you’ve taken to get to where you are? Lately I’ve been feeling like a girl under a microscope, Made to star in some stereotypical sad romance trope. But I’m tired of dropping the pieces of my soul, Either blood drops or rose petals wherever I go. And isn’t that exactly like a bad love song? The kind where it’s all gone wrong, When you feel like you’re walking on air, But when you go to look down there’s simply nothing there? But the funny thing is, it’s not even you Or how or why or who. It’s not Cupid’s broken arrow, Or walking the romance straight-and-narrow. And it could have been the lyrics to a bad love song But it isn’t, because I’m feeling strong. And instead of falling, I’m flying Just like the birds in the wide open sky and This time there is no sad guitar And this time, you know just who you are.

New Dawn by Troy Smith

Konstantine by Suzie Maines

52 Beach House View by Kristina Cossa 58

Walk on the Beach by Kristina Cossa

Seymour by Suzie Maines

Color Wave by Mary Grace Faulkner

Last Bloom by Madison Cogle 60

Darkness and

Light

By Kristina Cossa In the middle of the night, a lone girl with long silver hair woke up in the middle of a frozen lake. As she regained her breath, all she could see was an empty frozen lake. She had a lot of questions: How did she get there? Who was she? And how did she survive? The only answer she got was the blow of the wind. In the distance she could see people and she tried to get their attention, but they didn’t seem to hear her. So she got up and walked over to them. “Hello, can you tell me where I am?” she asked, but no one answered her. In fact no one even seemed to see her. A little boy with sunshine blonde hair came close to her and, to the girl’s surprise, he walked right through her. She panicked and reached for her chest to make sure she wasn’t dead. It was still beating. As the boy walked away, she noticed that he seemed to glow, making all of the darkness vanish. Everyone looked at him with pleasure and she bit her lip in jealousy. Why couldn’t they see her too?

Shattered by Anne Hayden Hall High School Contest Winner The glass houses have been destroyed None of us meant for this to happen Funny how things work out The stones we throw are pebbles compared to The boulders thrown at us in return The glass houses have been destroyed Yes, dark clouds hang over me But they rest atop your head as well Funny how things work out Convenience and proximity are gold Morality and conviction in the gutter The glass houses have been destroyed Fools! Those up above and Down below look upon us and laugh Funny how things work out The tools are right in front of us! Shiny and new. Unused. The glass houses have been destroyed Funny how things work out

Storm Blaze by Mary Grace Faulkner

Spring 2021 Biographies Judges Lisa Blume is a fine art wedding photographer who travels worldwide to capture nuptials on film. She holds a Master’s degree in Commercial Photography from Savannah College of Art & Design and a Bachelor’s degree in Fine Art Photography from Hollins University. She also attended Ferrum College, where she served as photography editor of The Iron Blade. She travels between Washington, DC, and Chicago for her work. Sidra Kaluszka is an artist who specializes in ceramics and watercolors. She earned her MFA from Radford University and her BFA from Virginia Tech. She is a member of the Watercolor Societies of Virginia, Alaska, and Pennsylvania. Her work, for which she has won numerous awards, has been exhibited throughout the United States and in Japan. Her art work and upcoming exhibits can be seen on her Facebook page. Cindy Rhinehart, ‘97, holds an English degree from Ferrum College, where she was editor-in-chief of The Iron Blade, served on the Chrysalis staff, and played on the soccer team. She received the Eric Lee Baker English award. She is a program manager of communications equipment at a Naval Supply Depot in Pennsylvania. She loves spending time with her two children as well as caring for her family’s four cats and one Plott hound. Rex Stephenson is Ferrum College professor emeritus of drama. He taught and directed plays at Ferrum for 39 years and was Artistic Director of Ferrum’s Blue Ridge Dinner Theatre. He created and directed Ferrum’s Jack Tale Players and now tells Appalachian folktales with the Jack Tale Storytellers. He has published several dozen plays and stories and won numerous play writing awards.

Staff

Kristina Cossa from Apex, NC, is a sophomore with a major in Education and a minor in English. She has loved acting and theater since she was a little girl. In her free time she writes stories, mostly short but sometimes novel-length books. Mary Grace Faulkner lives a few minutes away, in Ferrum. She is majoring in History. Her main interests are reading, writing, Japanese, and karate. M. Katherine Grimes is a professor of English and advisor to Chrysalis. Alyssa Hogan is a junior Social Work major from Roanoke. Watercolors are her second passion next to helping people. Braden Homsey from Hillsborough, NC, is majoring in Secondary Education and minoring in English. He is captain of the men’s wrestling team. He enjoys Marvel, drawing, and outdoor activities. Caroline King from Wytheville is a junior majoring in Secondary Education with an English emphasis. She is on the women’s golf team and the equestrian team. Abigail McGovern is a sophomore from Round Hill, majoring in English with a Creative Writing emphasis and minoring in History. She is a member of the Boone Honors Program, Help Save the Next Girl, and the cross country and track teams. Jessica Price Norton from Shawsville is a senior pursuing a degree in Graphic Design with an English minor. Having grown up in the Appalachian Mountains, she has found herself inspired by nature and relationships, both physical and emotional. 64

Kacey Whorley is a sophomore from Bedford majoring in Secondary English Education. She enjoys reading, writing, and painting. She is a Resident Assistant and is in the National Society of Leadership and Success. She plans to get a Master’s degree in English Education and to coach softball or volleyball in the future.

Other Contributors Danny Adams graduated from Roanoke College with a degree in English. He is the Library Reference Assistant at the Stanley Library. Along with publishing three novels and a number of short stories and poems, he is now working on a narrative history of Ferrum College. Riley Church from Rocky Mount is an Elementary Education major. She also works in Stanley Library. Madison Cline is a freshman from Christiansburg. She is majoring in Agriculture with an emphasis on Horticulture. She is a member of the Boone Honors Program. Her hobbies include gardening, reading, and playing piano. Madison Cogle is an Agricultural Sciences major with emphasis in Animal Science and Equine Studies with the goal of becoming a veterinarian. She is a member of the Boone Honors Program. Originally from Charles Town, WV, she recently moved to Lewis County in north-central West Virginia. Ryan Gobble is a freshman Agricultural Education major from Abingdon, where he grew up on his family’s farm and developed his passion for agriculture education. He is a member of the Boone Honor’s Program. Laurynn Hackett from Appomattox is an Animal Science major minoring in Horticulture and One Health. She is a member of the Boone Honors Program and vice president of the Ag. Club. She loves to photograph her surroundings. Anne Hayden Hall is a student at Salem High School. Suzie Maines from Winchester is a senior majoring in International Relations and Spanish. She is a member of the Boone Honors Program and works in the International Studies Office. Jacques Moore-Roberts is a senior from Hampton majoring in English with a minor in Business Administration. Following graduation, he plans to work diligently towards his goal of becoming a world-renowned lyricist, author, and creative writer. Shela Muriel is a junior from Greensboro, NC. Her major is English with a Creative Writing emphasis. She is minoring in History. Troy Smith is a freshman from Chesterfield. He is majoring in Theatre and Mathematics. Mary Stoudt is a senior majoring in History and minoring in Public History and Museum Studies. She is editor-in-chief of The Iron Blade and involved in other campus activities. She spends free time with her dog Montana. In the fall she will attend Shepherd University for a master’s degree in Appalachian Studies. Lana Whited is professor of English and director of the Boone Honors Program. Chelsea Zizzi is a Chemistry major and an English minor from Yorktown. She writes poetry as her form of art. Franklin Lights by Alyssa Hogan

Acknowledgements The staff of Chrysalis wishes to thank the judges for sharing their time and expertise. The staff also thanks the Integrated Programming Board for prizes for Ferrum College student winners and the English Program for the prize for the high school winner.

Spring in the Air by Alyssa Hogan 66