Revelations
Member: South Carolina Scholastic Press Association Southern Interscholastic Press Association
Cover Art by Kinsley Raybuck Art (this page) by Chaz Holmes
REVELATIONS2018VOL.26
Dutch Fork High School 1400 Old Tamah Rd. Irmo, SC 29063 803-476-3300 lexrich5.org/dfhs
Letter from the Editor As much as I hate to say it, humans are persistent. It’s just a fact about us. Whether it’s surviving, being creative, or making an EXCELLENT magazine, once we set our minds to do something, we do it (most of the time). This is never more prevalent than in this issue of Revelations, with humans being writers, artists, poets and incredibly talented editors of a magazine. That’s why in this magazine, we want to help the humans being different, bold and creative make their voices heard. I hope you enjoy the amazing collection of works from our student body, and that they inspire you to find your own way to be creative (and when you do, don’t forget to share it with us over here at your friendly neighborhood literary magazine). -The thing in your basement, Max Franks
<- art by Maliah Jefferson
Table of Contents
Cover art by Kinsley Raybuck 2 art by Chaz Holmes 3 art by Maliah Jefferson 5 art by Trina Christian 6 art by Graeme Wolverton 6 “The Seraphim” by Max Franks 7 art by Dani Valenti 7 “Darkness Within Happiness: Before Tale” by Daniel Wingard 8 art by Garrett Nguyen 11 “Alchemist” by Michael Morrison 11 art by Lauren Cole 12 art by Mason Wilkinson 14 “For Ever” by Emilie Rose Beach 15 art by Emilie Rose Beach 16 art by Emilie Rose Beach 17 “As I Do Today” by Emilie Rose Beach 18 “The Patience to Love” by Ruby Anderson 19 art by Amaya Henderson 20 art by Calista Berner 21 “you” by Meagan Denver 21 “ended it” by Meagan Denver 22 “Ghostly Valor” by Li Ward 23 art by Dani Valenti 24 art by Kendall Dinkins 24 “The Power of Living the Moment” by Kendall Dinkins 25 art by Chaz Holmes 26 art by Justice Nawman 27 “The Mysteries of Life” by Justice Nawman 28 “When Will My Life Begin?” by Ava Barney 29 art by Donte Johnson 30 art by Spencer Simpson 31 art by Laura Beatson 32 art by Macenzi Pennington 33 “To Break A Heart” by Amirah Robinson 34 art by Jenna Stroupe 36 art by Lana Collins 36 “Twitch” by Max Franks 38 art by Trinity Leger 39 art by Paige Harris 39 art by Hope Kwiatkowski 40 art by Grace Whisman 40 “Dare to be Different” by Grace Whisman 41 art by Grace Whisman 42 art by Liz Sierra 43 art by Kaitlyn Stansell 44 art by Grace Whisman
by Trina Christian
by Graeme Wolverton
The Seraphim by Max Franks
The Seraphim, The Watchdog, The Sword: These are the many names I go by, But they are no more than mere titles-For my true name is lost to time. Even to me. So I wait. For the horns to blow For the horsemen to ride For hell to wake To do my duty… I blink one of my many eyes. My vast and limitless perception--which I once used to assist my lord in purging the unworthy--now bores me I glance to Hell; it is the same: as depressing as it is hilarious. I glance to Earth; it is the same: as free as it is putrid. I glance to Heaven; it is the same: as glorious as it is silent. I close my eyes to find darkness: a swirling, shifting, ever-changing mist of almost colors and abstract shapes. I don’t sleep. I outgrew the need of it long ago, but I still dream. Of a past now behind me, of a future yet to come, and of the present. A comedy of losses and a tragedy of victories. I open my eyes two at a time, as I rouse myself from my daydream. I find my world as I left it. Hell, Earth, Heaven still the same. Except I am not as bored.
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by Dani Valenti
Darkness Within Happiness: Before Tale by Daniel Wingard
“Teom’u! Report to the bridge immediately!” yelled Commander Placo over the communicator placed in the back of my head. “Yes sir; on the way now,” I said back, rubbing the thick fur on the back of my head. On the way there I stopped by the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. An Animist--a white-furred humanoid alien, with red hair dressed in a green Space Colonist Uniform (SCU) --stared back at me. “Teom’u, report to the bridge now before I launch you out the airlock!” yelled Placo, startling me out of my trance. “Y-yes sir on the way now,” I said, starting for the ship’s bridge at a run. As I arrived at the bridge, Commander Placo greeted me, looking me dead in the eyes. “Teom’u, old friend, how have you been?” Placo said in a now-joyful tone. His human form--white skin, blue eyes, brown hair--and a black SCU with a dagger by his side gave away his origins: the heart of Earth’s Space Colonist Exploration Reserve (SCER). I also own a weapon
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by Garrett Nguyen
given to me by my friend Dan’mue from back on Virusabet; he called it a Bayard. I’ve never had to use it though, let alone know how to work it. “Good, I guess,” I said with a shrug. Placo and I go way back to when we were at a SCER Base on Deltaon in the Elexto System. I came from the planet Virusabet in the Plexiadet system, and left to join SCER three months prior to the Galra invasion that killed off the rest of the Animists. When I found out the Galra had destroyed Virusabet, I joined up with Placo aboard the Space Transport Ship Translusada. The ship was tasked with discovering other planets for space colonies’ evacuation in the event of a Galra attack. “Teom’u! Hey, Teom’u! Wake up! You good, man?” Placo asked, snapping me out of my daze. “Huh-wha? Oh, sorry. What is it you wanted me for, Placo?” I asked. Placo pointed out the window as we neared a multitude of asteroids. “That is what I wanted you here for, Teom’u. Those are the remnants of Altea after the Galra attacked the planet,” Placo said. “It’s horrifying,” I said. “I know they killed off my species, but I’m surprised they would destroy a whole planet.” At that moment, an asteroid with a house on top flew past the window. “I understood that you would feel bad after seeing that, so I decided we would visit our friend Ketor. He is stationed on Jelotev in the Plexiadet system,” Placo said, pulling up a picture of Ketor, Placo and me at the base. Ketor is a Letroian from Letra in the Zel System with red crystalline skin, brown hair, four arms (two of which are sharpened to a point) in a black SCU. “It does suck that your home was wiped out by the Glaran army, Teom’u,” Placo said, looking out at the asteroids. “It really doesn’t matter. It’s over and done with, and I can’t go back and fix it,” I said, quick to change the subject. “We haven’t seen Ketor since base, Placo. We should call him, and let him know we’re coming. ” “Yeah I guess you’re right, Teom’u,” Placo said as he punched in the coordinates and called Keator. “Yes, who is it?” asked Keator. “Hey, Ketor it’s Placo and Teom’u. We are on our way to Jelotev for a mini vacation,” Placo said. “Guys! How have you been?” asked Ketor. “Good,” I answered hurriedly. “We’ve been fine.”
“Hey Teom’u, sorry about your species,” Ketor said. “It’s fine. At least I was somewhere else at the time. We’ll be there in about a varga, so we’ll see you shortly,” I half-heartedly said. “Teom’u! What do you mean ‘at least you were somewhere else’?” asked a shocked Ketor. “It’s better than being extinct with the rest of my species,” I responded, wishing for everyone to stop talking about it. “Ok,” Ketor said, still semi-confused by my response. “See you shortly.” “Bye, Ketoro,” Placo replied as he hung up. “Let’s get ready for hyperjump.” “Got it,” I said, moving to my station. “Initiating hyperjump now,” Placo said. ------------ Jelotev was a planet similar to Earth, but its rotation was lopsided. There were a few colonies, as well as a few native species still there. “Ah, Jelotev. I’ve never been on this planet before, but I knew it was close to home,” I said, looking upon the planet’s icy surface. “Teom’u, Placo, been a while hasn’t it? I heard about your species’ near-extinction, so sorry about that Teom’u,” said Ketor as he walked up to us, his SIC following close behind. “This is my Second-In-Command, Leta,” Ketor said, pointing to Leta, a female Jelovian with pale pink skin, black hair, and wearing a blue SCU. Jelovians, the alien species primarily located on Jelotev, are known for their physical differences in gender. Males have curved ears, while their female counterparts have humanoid ears. “Nice to meet you Palco and Teom’u,” Leta said, bowing before me and Palco. “Welcome to Jelotev, and welcome to the STS Sheltian.” “Thank you, Leta,” Ketor said. Leta walked away back to her post behind a terminal. “Leta looks nice, eh Teom’u?” Placo said while nudging me with his elbow. I kicked him in the shin. “Don’t even go there!” I said with a laugh. “Thank you for letting us drop by, Ketor,” Placo said while rubbing his bruised shin. “No problem. I needed to get out and chill. We have been getting constant threats from the Galran military, saying they want to kill us and take over the planet,” Ketor said nonchalantly.
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“Why not contact the head base back on Earth?” I asked. “We tried,” Leta chimed in. “The only way to contact the base was destroyed.” I walked over to her and fiddled with the dials on the terminal. “Teom’u, what are you doing?” asked Ketor as he walked next to me. I pulled up the contact list and selected the head base on Earth. “Hello, is this Base 0001 on Earth?” I asked. When a purple face appeared on-screen, I could tell something was wrong. “No, this is commander Thanatos of the Galran Military. What makes you think we’d let you do that? With help from our inside sources, we kept you from getting a message out to the base.” Thanatos was a Galran with a scar along his right bright yellow eye. “Thanatos, what do you plan to accomplish with this planet?” I asked. “To increase the size of Zarkon’s mighty army and empire,” Thanatos replied. “If I were you, I’d start evacuating because now we will destroy you. All soldiers ready the spacial cannon and prepare the drones!” yelled Thanatos to someone off camera, as the planet shook. “They are firing upon the base and the planet!” yelled Ketor. “Everyone! Start the evac procedure!” yelled Leta over the intercom. The roof above Placo and Ketor made an ominous cracking noise. Ketor heard it and grabbed Placo; they jumped to the side as the roof caved in right where they had been standing. A few armed Galra soldiers fired in Leta’s direction and hit the desk next to her. “We found some workers in here, what should we do?” asked a soldier, his gun trained on Leta. “Kill them!” commanded the soldier next to him. They proceeded to fire at us, a blast hitting Ketor directly in the chest, killing him instantly. “Ketor, no!” I yelled as more soldiers burst through the door, attacking Leta. Placo charged the soldiers with his dagger, but they killed him in a hail of blaster fire. “No, not Placo!” I yelled, charging at the soldier who then held Leta in front of him as a shield. “Help me!” she yelled. Suddenly my Bayard began to glow green and became a battle-staff. Its glow made the Soldier wince in fear, making him drop Leta. The soldier snapped a shot at me; the blast hit the staff and ricocheted back and killed him. I then charged at them and hit them before they had a moment to react. Leta scrambled up from where she landed and grabbed something in her drawer. It turned out to be a Bayard of her own. Leta’s Bayard glowed blue and became dual pistols. She ran towards her assailants and fired round after round at them, incapacitating them. Another shot from the Galra ship hit the base and shook us off our feet and we fell and hit the wall.
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I woke up on a Galra ship with a number attached to my prison uniform: 650010023597. The Galrans chose to use the shorter 023597 when talking to me. There was a human prisoner in the cell with me. He said his name was Matt Holt, and he was captured on a mission to Kerberos (one of Pluto’s moons) along with his father, Samuel Holt, and their captain Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane. They all worked for the Galaxy Garrison back on Earth. “So, Matt, you mentioned you have a sister back on Earth?” I asked. “Yeah, Katie--but I call her Pidge. She really wanted to come with me and dad on the mission to Kerberos,” Matt said. “I’m glad she couldn’t.” “Do you have an image of what she looks like?” I asked. “Yeah right here,” Matt said, grabbing a picture of him and Pidge they were standing in front of the ship that would send Matt and his dad into space. Pidge looked a lot like her brother. “She looks like you,” I said. Matt’s smile showed he was glad someone seemed to care about him and his family. “Any idea what she could be doing now, Matt?” I asked “If I know my sister as well as I think I do, she is probably searching for a way to find me and dad,” he responded. “ZZZt-Warning! Unknown craft approaching the ship. All soldiers get ready to board-ZZSt,” the automated voice over the intercom said. The ship shook violently, sending Matt and me the ground. “‘Can’t I go a day without being tossed around like that?’” I thought to myself. Then an explosion blasted its way through the wall, and a few rebels grabbed Matt and dragged him through the hole. I was ready to jump across the gap and get away when a soldier grabbed me. “No! Teom’u! I’ll come back for you one day!” yelled Matt as I was dragged away. “023597 what are you doing? You are a prisoner of the Galra! You will not be escaping,” the soldier said. “In fact, we will send you to a new ship so your would-be rescuer will not know where you are.” ------------- “So for the next few days I was left on a new ship until you all came and Pidge rescued me from captivity,” I said to Matt. “Thanks again, Pidge,” I said as I put my arm around her. “Thanks for telling us where you’re from and how you came to be on the ship,” Pidge said. “And you’re welcome.” “No problem. Who knows? Maybe Leta is still out there somewhere,” I said. “That weapon she had looked like a Bayard, kinda like yours, Lance,” I said. “Is it possible that there are other Paladins?” asked Hunk. “Is it possible, Allura?” asked Shiro. “I’m not sure, Shiro,” Allura said. “I’m not sure...” ••••••
Alchemist by Michael Morrison I am an Alchemist. I turn ink into gold, Fantasy into reality. I turn hate into love, Evil into purity. I turn war into peace, Blood into wine. I change the world; It changes me. With my pen, I am an Alchemist.
by Lauren Cole
by Mason Wilkinson
For Ever
by Emilie Rose Beach Forever, forever I’ll love no one but you Forever, forever I’ll always be true Wherever I wander, whatever I do Forever, forever I’ll be thinking of you.
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art by Emilie Rose Beach ->
As I Do Today by Emilie Rose Beach I will always love you as I do today I am happy with you, sad when you’re away When the golden summer turns to autumn gray I will always love you as I do today.
art by Emilie Rose Beach
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The Patience To Love by Ruby Anderson It takes patience to love again When you have been hurt over and over again It takes pride and strength again To take it all away Somewhere In all the painâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rain, salvation to the brain Somebody has to have the patience To be ok. He gives me the patience To love again
18 REVELATIONS 2018 â&#x20AC;˘ Humans Being
by Amaya Henderson
REVELATIONS 2018 â&#x20AC;¢ Humans Being 19
by Calista Berner
you by Meagan Denver you cut open my skin and scooped out my insides like a vanilla bean
ended it by Meagan Denver your dimples were a gift from angels even when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re sad they smile for you I could fill the hollow space with all of my love and it would never be enough
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Ghostly Valor by Li Ward In the backwoods of West Virginia, south of Charleston, off of Middle Fork Road and right next to Bays Fork, there is an old log cabin. The cabin is dilapidated and overgrown, but it is still eerily welcoming. Despite having been uninhabited for some time, a small wisp of smoke rises from the cabin on cold winter nights. There are lights on in the windows, and a passing traveller can sometimes hear laughter emanating from the old structure. Some locals even say there’s a spirit that takes the form of an old man who helps lost travellers in their time of need, and while this has not been proven, there are some tales that give credence to it. One such tale dates back to the Civil War. The 34th Wisconsin Infantry had been mauled in a skirmish with Confederate troops in the area in the late winter of 1862, when the state was still part of Virginia. The regiment fell back to the north, and as they did, many of their wounded fell and had to be left behind. One such man, Corporal John Jorgensen, fell to the ground and was left behind in the forests near the cabin. Jorgensen had suffered a hit from a minie ball to the shin, which had shattered his bone. To add to his pain, it was freezing out, and a blizzard was moving in. Jorgensen was sure he was going to die. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate when he heard a voice. “You alive, boy?” it asked. Jorgensen looked up, seeing a man silhouetted against the trees. The man was extending his hand out to Jorgensen. Jorgensen could not respond, for he was far too cold to move. The man sighed, grabbing Jorgensen by the wrist and pulling him up. He then hoisted the fallen man over his shoulders and trudged into the woods. The last thing Jorgensen saw before 22 REVELATIONS 2018 • Humans Being
he lost consciousness was a faint light shining in the distance. When Jorgensen awoke, he was lying on a bed, with blankets piled on top of him. A fire crackled on the other side of the room, and the old man was laboring over a stove. “Hello?” he managed to utter. “Ah, you’re awake, good,” the man said, “I just made some stew. Here, I’ll get you a bowl.” The man reached over, picking up a rough wooden bowl and a ladle, filling the bowl with the brown gruel. He grabbed a metal spoon and a hunk of wheat bread and brought it over to Jorgensen. He placed them on the nightstand next to him and went back into the kitchen. Jorgensen stared at the meal for a moment before giving in, taking a big spoonful of the savory beef stew, chewing, and then taking a bite of the bread. He continued to eat his meal silently. He finished the meal, and put the bowl down. The old man came over and picked up the bowl and spoon, putting them away. Jorgensen closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. When he awoke, he was outside, lying on the ground. A passing Union patrol picked him up, and he was taken back to the camp. “Youse mighty lucky, friend,” said one of the soldiers with a heavy New York accent, “youse was laying out in the cold for a long time. I’m surprised you didn’t freeze.” “Miracles happen,” Jorgensen replied, as they approached the camp. John Jorgensen went on to survive the war, and after he returned home to Green Bay in 1866, he wrote his memoirs. In those memoirs was the tale of the mysterious old man who saved his life on that cold night in 1862. The cabin still stands to this day, dilapidated, but still eerily welcoming, to any travellers who pass by.
by Dani Valenti
by Kendall Dinkins
The Power of Living in the Moment by Kendall Dinkins It took me about 14 years of my life to realize I was have no control over it. wishing my life away. Never would I be focused on the Last year, going into 2017, my word for the year was now. “embrace.” I allowed my worries to infringe upon my day and af- I wanted no longer to worry about anything other fect my outlook on life. than the now. I wanted to embrace everything and every When I was elementary school I could not wait for moment. middle school. When I was in middle school I could not Every day I strive to wake up and allow myself only to wait to get to high school. When worry about embracing life in I was in high school I could not today’s moment. Too many people spend more time worried wait for college. Live a life you remember. Every time I thought the next about the past or the future instead of fo- Life will only be rememthing was going to be better, it cusing in on the present. Unless you want bered by living in the moment. never was. No good has ever come from to get to the end of your life and have I ended up never enjoying the someone dwelling on the past. major regrets, embrace every moment. moment. Life was made to be free We are constantly basing our spirited and enjoyed in the happiness on what could happen in the future, thinking present. There is no fun in constantly being in a state of it’s going to be better. mind of anywhere but now. You will regret always living They say “oh I’ll let myself be happy after I find a new in the past. job, or after I move on.” Enjoy the moment. Don’t let life pass you by. This is the epitome of someone avoiding the now. Get to the end of your life with a smile, knowing you We all should get out of this unhealthy mindset: no were fully there. worries about what happened yesterday; you can’t go It’s healthy to think about the future and learn from back and change it. No worries about tomorrow; you the past, but don’t live there. Live now.
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by Chaz Holmes
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by Justice Nawman
26 REVELATIONS 2018 â&#x20AC;¢ Humans Being
The Mysteries of Life by Justice Nawman Life is a journey, Bitter and sweet, Sometimes it’s a trick, Sometimes it’s a treat, People come and people go, They’re there for a reason, That you may never know, When obstacles arise, big or small, You are the one who has to stand tall, If you don’t take the time to spread your wings, Enjoy the good times and the little things, You may miss out on the chance to fly, Don’t be the person who lets their dreams die…
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When will my life begin? by Ava Barney
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It’s the question most people ask themselves; it’s the moment people strive for. We live for that moment; we work for that moment; we prepare ourselves for that moment: the moment where the question is answered. “When Will My Life Begin?” I believe we all get a moment in life where your life truly begins, but each of us has new beginnings, new opportunities to begin again. Your life is like a book where every new moment is a new chapter--a new beginning. When you are born. Your first day of school. Your last day in school. Your first love. Your first heartbreak. Your first day out in the world on your own. Your first job. Your last job. There are so many new beginnings--so many firsts and lasts that change us. My life began the moment I was born, continued to my first day of school, to moving to another state, to starting high school, to meeting new friends and starting new adventures. My life changes and begins every day for the best; my life begins when I want it to. We experience new things and get new opportunities to change our perspective on life and begin new chapters. We are given tough decisions and hard moments to shape us into the people we are today. Our lives begin and thrive off those moments. You get to decide when your life begins and when you want it to stay the same.
by Donte Johnson
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by Spencer Simpson
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by Laura Beatson
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by Donte Johnson
To Break A Heart by Amirah Robinson
The harsh winter winds howled with disgust. The sharp ice stabbed the stiff air. Soon it was 9 o’clock on Manele Rd. A harsh snow storm was approaching Massachusetts. *** He struggled to change “it” to “was.” He stood still. “When was it?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. “How did it start?” she continued. But he didn’t have the strength to tell her. “Why?” she pushed. She sat on the old beaten couch. “It,” he uttered, but then broke off. “It was true,” he finally said. The girl collapsed. Her heart was now shredded into a billion pieces. “I’m sorry,” he said while attempting to pat her back. “What she and I have is real. I’m sorry, Veronica; I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I love her.” Veronica cried. He moved closer. But the closer he got the more she fell apart. “Bill, we’ve spent the last six years of our lives together,” she wailed. “I know,” he said. “Does it really have to end like this?” “Yes,” he said firmly. “Who was it?” “No one,” he said. “How did it start?” “Not important.” He stared at her. Her long, brown hair was tangled. Her green eyes were bloodshot. This wasn’t the woman he used to adore. The woman he loved was gone. The cold air shook him. “Bill-” she broke off, as her head fell to her lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt you V, but what we had is gone. When I’m with her, I feel like my old self again. She makes me hap-” he continued. But she didn’t hear him; she didn’t see him. All she heard and saw were unanswered calls, empty voicemails, unread messages, late-night phone calls, sketchy emails, late work hours, cheap perfume, hair strands, red lipstick, new clothing, flowers, and distant behavior. She should’ve known. She glanced at him: the same man who she thought
she had known for six years vanished before her. The same man who used to take her on expensive dates, bought her luxurious gifts, surprised her at work, and took her on amazing vacations was gone. The same man who could never stop wooing her was gone. Instead, a flimsy lowlife stood in his place. She no longer saw his flawless tanned skin, his shiny black hair, or his maple brown eyes. Now all she saw was a mistake. “I’ll pack my stuff,” he said. She shook her head, but the man went up the stairs and shuffled through the hall. An hour later, he loaded his car while Veronica watched him. “I’m sorry,” he said. But he didn’t know that those two words would hurt her the most. He destroyed her. He stole her innocence and robbed her of her heart. He threw away her affection and broke her trust. He didn’t know that after him there would be no one else: no one to tell her how beautiful she looked, no one to show her she’s appreciated. He broke every piece of her and it could never be fixed. The damage was done. Those two words meant absolutely nothing, especially since he didn’t mean them. In a few years, sure, he would look back on this moment and think she was pure. He would look back and think she was good. He didn’t know he was her first love and after him other guys would come and go, good and bad. But that didn’t matter. She always belonged to him even if she didn’t want to. Deep down he knew it was best for him to leave. He knew that he always had the key to her heart, but he also knew he didn’t want it anymore. As he loaded the last two boxes in his car, Veronica looked up into the sky. The wild wind blew one last time. She watched him get into his car. Her sadness quickly turned to fear as an enormous truck began to skid across the icy road, a drunk driver behind its wheel. In less than a minute, Bill’s old, rusty truck was crushed. Veronica ran across the street and put his lifeless hand in hers. “Bill,” she whispered through tears, “I’m pregnant.”
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by Jenna Stroupe
Twitch by Max Franks
Eddie was flying down a dirt road in his battered pickup truck, his radio playing a mix of static and the most recent pop song. Eddie preferred the static--if only so he could think straight. He looked in the rearview mirror; it sat there in the back seat, grinning at him. He tried to shake it off, blinking his eyes hard and reaching into his glove box for his medication. After pouring himself a handful of pills, he popped all of them and took a swig of the Coke in his lap. On one of the road’s many straightaways, he frantically glanced at his watch. 2:26 a.m. How long had it been since he slept? As he thought about it, Eddie yawned. At least a couple days, a week, maybe a month, maybe a year, or maybe he just never slept. Maybe…he could just…doze off. Just for a…second. As Eddie began to nod off, there was a large bump as the truck ran over an exposed tree root, breaking Eddie out of his daze. He quickly opened the glove box once more, and pulled two out Five-Hour Energy drinks. Downing both in seconds, Eddie chased the shots with a big gulp of his Coke. He hated those things; they just tasted gross. Some-
36 REVELATIONS 2018 • Humans Being
what reinvigorated, though, Eddie finally got to where the dirt road exited onto a local road and that then to the interstate. 10:30 a.m. Eddie, now stopped at a gas station, stood in front of an ATM. He had already filled his truck and his back-up gas cans and just needed money to pay the cost of supplies. His foot tapped with a mix of animosity, hyperactivity, and fear as he swiped his card. “THANK YOU, JEREMY FISHER,” the big letters on the screen read as Eddie shot a glance around him. He withdrew all he could in cash, and walked into the gas station, tossing the card in a trash bin on the way in. The station was almost empty, except for the teenage girl of Asian descent at the counter. She wore big, hoop earrings and was reading from a magazine; the TV in the corner was blaring the news. Eddie grabbed a plastic bag from the front and began to shovel Five-Hour Energies into the bag. After the last of the tiny bottles fell into the bag, Eddie ran over to the drink section, grabbing two more Coke cans. “In other news, The Rock Springs Killer has struck
“Eddie popped a pill and chased it with his last Coke. He felt the cold gaze of the faceless men on him melt away; he felt a connection to them. He knew how they felt, how they thought, and he knew that they were gunning for him.” again with the murder of elderly couple Wanda and Jeremy Fisher,” the TV news anchor said. Eddie swiftly walked toward the door past the counter, yanking several Kit-Kats as he passed, grabbing the teen’s attention. “HEY MAN! COME BACK HERE!!” the teen at the counter yelled after Eddie, but it was far too late; Eddie was already in his truck. Tossing the stuff in the back seat, Eddie slammed his door and peeled out of the station. 1:28 p.m. Eddie stood in line at the pharmacy in Basin, waiting. He had never run out of pills before, and this was stressing him out. It was finally his turn after an old man finished paying for his prescription. “How may I help you, sir?” the man in the white coat behind the counter asked. Eddie only responded by pushing the worn and faded doctor’s note to him. Puzzled, the pharmacist took it, reading it. “Okay.... Edward, can I see your ID?” Eddie pulled his fat wallet out of his back pocket and gave him his card. “Uhh… This is a driver’s permit. Dated two years ago. I need to speak with your parents or a guardian before you can pick up this prescription,” the pharmacist said with a quirked eyebrow. Eddie simply looked at him. “I’m sorry, but the law sa-,” the pharmicist began. “I need those pills, or I might hurt people.” “I-I’m sorry, what?” Eddie just stared at the pharmacist. The pharmacist stared back. After a long silence, the pharmacist ran off to grab the pills. 1:48 p.m. Eddie was driving on the interstate, only to be caught in the middle of a traffic jam. He popped a pill, and waited, humming a tune on the radio. After a couple more minutes, he saw why traffic was all caught up: a police traffic stop was ahead. Eddie rooted around in his truck, looking for anything that might help him. He had gotten too close to fail now. Eddie pulled into the police checkpoint. A gruff officer with a buzz cut and a kevlar vest knocked on the window. Eddie rolled it down, his hand shakily reaching for something under his chair. “Heya hoss, happen to know this fella?” the officer asked as he pulled out a police sketch of someone vaguely resembling Eddie. Eddie shook his head no.
The officer eyed Eddie for a long while. “Ah well, see ya later feller. And watch out for this guy, you hear?” the office said. Eddie nodded his head yes. Then he let out a sigh of relief, as he pulled his hand out from under the seat and drove away. 12 p.m. Eddie was camped out in front of a trailer park. He took some more pills to ease his nerves, and looked in his back seat and grabbed it: his dad’s old twelve-gauge. It seemed lighter than usual as if it were ready to…Eddie shook it off; he needed to do this. Eddie pulled a bag of shotgun shells and a revolver from under his seat and began to load his weapons. Eddie opened the driver’s side door, stepped outside, shut the door, and pumped his shotgun. He could feel the beast in his arms wiggle with delight, as if it knew what Eddie would do. The trailer park was abandoned, except for one singular trailer, with a light on inside. Eddie walked onto the makeshift cinder block steps toward the front door and put the gun’s barrel to it. It impatiently urged him to do it, to feed it, but Eddie kept cool. He didn’t want her to end up like those old folks. Suddenly, Eddie heard a scream within the trailer, and he blew open the door. There she stood: cut and bruised. She probably didn’t remember him. She had a knife pointed at one of them. The thing was hooded, faceless, and welding the curved ritual dagger Eddie knew all too well. Eddie shot it in the dead center, blowing a hole clean through it. Eddie felt his gun giddy with the thrill. 2:26 a.m. Eddie was flying down a dirt road in his battered pickup truck, his radio playing a mix of static and the most recent pop song. Eddie preferred the static if only so he could think straight. She was asleep; he would have to tell her what happened in the morning. He could always remember her, but never her name. No doubt the creature was still alive, out there somewhere. If not it, then one of its many brethren. Eddie popped a pill and chased it with his last Coke. He felt the cold gaze of the faceless men on him melt away; he felt a connection to them. He knew how they felt, how they thought, and he knew that they were gunning for him. For them. Eddie knew why, but he didn’t at the same time. The more he thought about them, the more the migraine came back. He took another pill.
REVELATIONS 2018 • Humans Being 37
by Trinity Leger
38 REVELATIONS 2018 â&#x20AC;¢ Humans Being
by Paige Harris
by Hope Kwiatkowski
REVELATIONS 2018 â&#x20AC;¢ Humans Being 39
by Grace Whisman
Dare to be Different by Grace Whisman
Differences make every person unique. If people did not have differences, then they would not learn from their experiences. Growing up in a diverse community can be difficult, especially in school, but people should not look at that as a bad thing. Differences can be beautiful. Humans can connect with each other in a greater way when they express who they truly are. Students should be able to express themselves and not feel they need to obtain a certain image for their peers. When students are judged for being different, it makes them wish they were not. Most students will find ways to hide what makes them different; they might even change completely. Eventually, some will learn how to grow into their differences. Hopefully they might even benefit from the words that have impacted them. Expressing how unique humanity is as a whole, people should not hate one another, but love one another. For love is what brings the world together in our differ-
40 REVELATIONS 2018 • Humans Being
ences. People need to learn that being equal does not mean they are not allowed to be different. Being equal means that everyone treats each other the same, no matter how different. Every single person could gain so much more if they exchanged their hate for love. Then, people could finally see past their differences. Poet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” People might ask why this is such a great accomplishment because the it does not give a reward of any kind. But it does, because in the end, the reward will be in discovering who they are. Students need to learn to love their differences: that could mean learning to love what makes them different and learning to love other people’s differences, too. Then the world could see how unique every single person truly is.
by Grace Whisman
by Liz Sierra
by Kaitlyn Stansell
by Grace Whisman
COLOPHON Revelations, the literary and art magazine of Dutch Fork High School, invites all students to submit works to the staff (digitally to dflitmag@ gmail.com) who judge each work anonmously. No student may have more than five entries in a given genre. The staff reserves the right to edit manuscripts for spelling, punctuation, grammar and clarity. This yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s staff consisted of the Editor-inChief and members of the Creative Writing 2 class. The staff extends a special thank you to the teachers in the Dutch Fork High School art department for photographing and submitting most of the artwork featured here. Body copy is 10 pt. Tirong; bylines are 12 pt. Tirong; titles are 18-60 pt. Open Sans Condensed. Revelations is set in 12-136 pt. Dolce Vita. This yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s theme is Humans Being. Revelations was created in InDesign CS4 and was made available digitally online through Issuu. com. Printed copies may be requested and purchased by emailing amedlock@lexrich5.org. Revelations is a member of the South Carolina Scholastic Press Association (SCSPA) and the Southern Interscholastic Press Association (SIPA). The 2017 magazine received a Superior rating from SCSPA and an Excellent rating from SIPA.
Revelations Editor-in-Chief Max Franks
Honorary Staff
Ruby Anderson Ava Barney Emilie Rose Beach Meagan Denver Kendal Dinkins Michael Morrison Justice Nawman Amirah Robinson Li Ward Daniel Wingard
Adviser
Amy MedlockGreene
Principal
Dr. Gerald Gary