Issuu

PlumBlossoms SamDavies

wordbyKatieStorrie,Edito

ChiefofQuenchMagazine

AsIwritethisforeword,IamsittinginmyfavouritecaféinC

Bean.Reflectingonthefactthatthisiswheretheinitiativeo g , Ican’thelpbutfeelasenseofnostalgia.ItwasherethatIsatdownwithSabine todiscusshowandwhyweshouldcreateaspaceformorecreativepiecestobe featuredacrossourcampus.Fromthatconversation,TonicbyQuenchwas formed.Ithasbeenreallyspecialtoseetheprogressithasmade.

Whenthethemeof“floods”wasfirstpresentedtome,severalmotifs immediatelycametomind.Theyoftencarryaquiet,eerieforce,yetpossessthe strengthtobecompletelyoverwhelming.Thisdualityisdeeplyreflectedinthe creativepiecesfeaturedinthisissue.Floodsembodycontradictions:theyhold memorieswhilewashingothersaway;theyconfrontuswithplacesoremotions thataredeeplyfamiliar,yetoftentransformed.Theysignifybothgriefand closure,shapingwhoweareandtheexperiencesthatdefineus.Tome,thisissue invitesustoquestionwhether,throughourexperiences,wecanfindclosureand transform.

IparticularlyenjoyedthesensoryimageryandatmospherictoneinSunrise ObservationsonaCoachtoLondoninEarlyMarchbyNickGwinn,paintinga pictureofafoggymorning,whiletravelingdowntoLondon.Itsstrongvisual scenesarereminiscentofsomanyjourneysIhavetakenmyself,makingitan immersiveread.Ittransformsasimplejourneyintoareflectionoftimeand movement.

StocksWereGoodbyCarysSpeedemotionallycapturesthedeeplypersonal, political,andphysicalaspectsoftheirwriting.Itexploresthemesofdisconnect andreconnection.Steven,thecentralfigure,ismediatedthroughtextmessages, oldphotos,andadisjointedreality.Ultimately,itisastoryabouttryingtofind closureandresilience,movingawayfromperhapstumultuouseventsinlife.

SeaGlassIslebyMiaAllenadditionallycapturesanemotionallyrichpiecethat operatesonmultiplenarrativelevels,seamlesslyincorporatingseveraltimelines. It’sbeautifullyconstructed,withprosethatissoftandrhythmic.Thenarrative movesbetweenmemoryanddistortion,mirroringwhatweoftenassociatewith floods,beingbothpeacefulanddemandingatthesametime.

Finally,IwanttocongratulateeveryoneontheincrediblesuccessattheStudent PublicationAssociationAwards,whereTonicbyQuenchwashighly commendedasBestNewcomerPublication.Thisrecognitionreflectsthehard workandcreativitybehindthisinitiative.

Afterreadingthisissue,I’msureyou’llseewhyit’ssuchapowerfulcollectionof creativework. Allthebest,

KatieStorrie

SalcombeBeach2017

AnnaJones

SunriseObservationsonaCoachto LondoninEarlyMarch NikGwinn

Thesunisnotwithmehere,lookingacrossthehillsatfar-off windows.Itisfarawayfromusall,penetratingafilmofwhite thathassealeditselfacrossthesunrise.

Itwarmsoursamewintermorningssoftly.

EachtimeIsitdowntowriteImissanotherbeautifulthing.

Thatfieldtherecanseethesun;itglowsorangeatopahillina frosted,foggyvalley.

Andhere,thesunbecomesapaledisc,peeringthroughthemistsof Newport’searlymorning.

CroesoiDdinasCasnewydd.

Thetideisout,andtheriverislow.Seagullsdiveoverthebridge.A womanfeedsthepigeonsonthebankastheirwingsflapagainstthechill, andSomeonetakesaphotoofthesunrise,splinteringoverrooftops, acrossthewater.

ThecoachreachesabridgeovertheUskandthesidesofitare plungedintoa voidofmilkywhite.

Icanjustaboutmakeouttherocksonthebank,butanythingbeyond thetreesislosttothemist. ItonlygetsthickerasweapproachtheSevern.Condensationis buildingonthewindows.

Ifyoudon’tlookcloseenough,thefogappearsempty. Butofcourseitisn’t,howcoulditbe?It’sthickandit’stangible.You couldwalkoutintothatemptyfieldandtouchthevoid.

TheSeverndoesn’tlooklikewateratall;it’smorelikesnow.Walkoff thesideofthisbridgeandyoucouldwalkonfootholdsinthefog forever.Youcan’tseetheriverbelow.

Youcan’tseeanythingatall.

Thefogdropsrightbackawaythesecondwe’reinEngland,alongwith myinclinationtowrite.

Icanseeatleasttwofieldsinanydirectionbeforetheworldiseatenup again.

Polaroids

HannahCoyle

StocksWere Good CarysSpeed

06/11/2024

Breakupwith Steven

Jamieslippedherphonebackintoherpocket.Herordersfortheday werethesameastheyhadbeenwhenshe’dtypedthemintoher calendarthenightbefore.

Semi-drunkandwatchingthenews,Jamiehadbeenfeverishlywriting eachnewstatethatHehadwononareceiptwithalipliner.Itwas somewherearoundWisconsinthattheideastruckherlikeastoneto thehead:BreakupwithSteven—howhadshenotthoughtofit before?She’dbeensprawledonherlivingroomfloor,ahalf-drained bottleofcookingwinenestlednexttoherastheTVflashedredand blue,whenshe’dloggedtheideaintoherphone’scalendar.Thatwas momentsbeforeshepassedoutonherPersianrug(lastyear’s birthdaypresentfromSteven.Hadsheeversaidshewantedarug?A redonenoless?).Atthetime,typingthewordsinApple’sSan

Franciscofonthadfeltpurposeful,asifbyprintingthemoutinblack andwhitethetaskgainedadegreeofauthority.Butnow,reading themback,asshehadbeendoingallmorning,shefeltsick.Nervous. Strange.

Jamieputherphoneawayandscannedthesubway,takinginthe patchworkcollectionofstrangerspressedinclose.Manwith newspaper.Manwithphone.Manstaringatwomanwhocouldn’t legallydrink.ManstaringbackatJamie.Sheunfocusedhergaze.

WithherworkpermittinglatestartsonWednesdaymornings,she’d caughttheCtrainfrom14thStreet,headingtowardsherand Steven’ssecond-favouritebreakfastspot.Secondfeltemotionally appropriate.Itwasalsodownthestreetfromhisapartmentandclose enoughtothesubwaythatshecouldslipawayintheopposite directionassoonasitwasover.Shehadonamerinosweaterthathe’d neverliked,butnomakeupsothatshedidn’tappear,ashecalled mostwomenhedisliked,‘fake’.Inherhandbaglaythetoothbrush andphonechargerhekeptatherapartment,andtherewereholesin thebottomofhertights.

She’dnoticedtheholesthatmorning.Small,stubborngapsaround hertoes,flashingglimpsesofartificiallytannedskinandthechipped polishofherexpensivepedicure.Theywereherlastpair,andwith nothingelsetowearshe’dshimmiedintothem,followedbyher Chanelskirt,deliberatelyignoringthethirty-oddpairsofstockings spillingfromherlaundrybasketasshedidso.Forweeksnow,ithad beenoutofthecornerofhereyethatshe’dnoticedtheslinkyblack fabricoozingovertheedgeofthewickeranddribblingdownitsside likeacreaturefromoneofherboyfriend’svideogames.Jamierefused tolookatitthesamewaysherefusedtolookatthedishesinthesink orthemouldcreepingacrosshershowergrout.

Backonthesubway,deepinsidehershoe,Jamierubbedhertoesback andforthasshememorisedtheconstellationofholesinhertights, splatteredlikeleopardspots.Theskinatthetipofhertoeswas alreadytenderwiththewalktohersubwaystop,andherlipwas beginningtotwitchwitheverystingingcurl.Afewmorerubsback andforthandthen,herbigtoeonherrightfootbrokefree.She didn’tstop.Withthatexposedtoenowpokingthroughthenylon, Jamiecontinuedtorubitagainsttheleathersoleofherbootuntil sparksofpainbegantojumpuphercalf.Justasthepainwas beginningtofizzlearoundherknee,thecarriagetookasharpturn throwingthesardine-packedpassengersintooneanother.Arms,legs, bags,andbelongingsspilledintoeachother’sspaces.Asmallchild stoodonhershoe,someone’sgrocerybagkeeledoversendingoranges bouncingundertheseats,andthemantoherrightcoughedoverhis shoulder,hisbreathlandingstraightinherhair.ButJamiekepther gazefixedahead;surroundedbythesourairofAmerica’sarmpit, Jamiesatinaworldofcurlinganduncurling,andfeelingablister grow.

Thetrainslowedasitpulledintothenextstation,justasherphone buzzedagainstherhip.Atthesametimethewomanonherleft lurchedtoherfeetandshotoutofthebarelyopencarriagedoorwith suchforcethatJamiejoltedbacktoreality.Instinctively,shereached forherphonetorereadhercalendar,onlytoseeamessagefrom Steven.

Seeyouin15,baby<3

Sheshutoffthephone,shoveditbackintoherpocket,andpretended thatshe’dneverseenit.Sheneededtostopcheckingthatcalendar.It wasliketryingtoliveherlifeonadelay,everyfewminutespulling outherphone,readingherinstructions,andonlythenremembering whoshewasandwhereshewasgoing.Herrealityflickeringbackinto focuslikealaggingscreenattemptingtorendertheworldaroundher.

Afteranaggressiveflowofpeopleshovinginandout,amaninhis mid-twentiestooktheemptyseatnexttoher.Theengorgedmuscles inhisarmsbulgedunderacrispwhiteshirtandpushedintoJamie’s sidemakingherbodycurlunnaturallyaway.Theopendoorsbeeped furiouslybeforeslidingshut,andJamiewasonceagainshooting throughtheblackbellyofNewYork.

UnlikethecrispNovemberairaboveground,thecarriagewaswarm andpungent,theairheavywiththeperfumeofmillionsofstrangers. And,asthescreechofthemetalontheothersideoftheglassstarted upagain,Jamiewasbeginningtohavethedisturbingfeelingthather, herescapedtoeandalmostex-boyfriend,wereboringfactsofa boringwomanwhoblendedintothearrayofstrangerscramped aroundher.Therewastheyoungcollegegirlreadingafantasysmut novel;theelderlygentlemanwholookeduneasyonhisfeet;the womanreadinganarticleonherphone,theelectionpollsclearand brightlikeachildren’sbarchartatthetopofthescreen,andJamie, withherarmscrossedandeyebrowsset;deepinhershoeshe practicedaprivatepunishment. Herphonebuzzed.

Theonlydistractionfromherescapedtoewasthemanacrossfrom herinanexpensive-lookingsuitreadingthemorningpaper.Onthe cover,thenewlyvictoriousfuturePresidentgrinnedather,asthough

Hefoundherfunny.Shestaredback.Thisisyourfault,shethought.

AtthatmomentHewastoblameforeverything:thepending breakup,theholeinhertights,andaboveall,theheavymelancholic airthathungoverthecarriage.Jamieassumedthateveryonehad expectedadifferentresultintheelection,butshe’dalsoassumedthat everyonewould’vevotedlikeshedid.Shewasbeginningtothinkshe couldnolongerdependonthekindnessofstrangers.So,ratherthan anotherforgetfulsubwayride,Jamiewassuffocatingunderthe disappointmentthatsatthickintheair,pressingagainsttheridersas surelyasthestalewarmthoftheunderground.Jamiecould’vesworn shecouldseeitseepingfromonepersontothenext,asharedgrief passingbetweenstrangersuntilthewholecarriagethrummedwith somethinglikemourning.Meanwhile,Heseemedtoglowfromthe printedpage.Thecolourofhisskinandtheshineofhisteeth radiatinglikeanopenflame.Hewasawinner,which,eventhough shehadwantednothingtodowithanyofit,hadmadeheraloser. Herphonebuzzedagain.

Hercalfwasbecomingslickwithsweatunderherbootashertoes continuedtowriggle.ItcouldbetheNewYorker,maybeanew articleabouttheelection.She’dgottenthatsubscriptionafewweeks agotofeelmorematureandrelevant,butonenightshe’dreadan articleonHisimmigrationlawsaftersmokingajointandhadfeltthe wordsgrowoutofherscreenandtightenaroundherthroat.She hadn’topenedtheappsince.

Themannexttoherswungwiththeturnofthetrainandhisbicep brushedagainstherbreast.Jamie’shandjumpedintoherpocketand pulledoutherphone.Blinkingatthecamera,theFaceIDrevealed hermostintimatespace.

YouwanteggsifIarrive early?

Benedict,Ipresume:)

Themessagesbubbledatthebottomofherscreenwithneat precision,perchednexttothecandidphotoshe’dgivenSteven’s contactyearsago.Itwasofhimontheirfirstwalkathisfamily’s homeinupstateNewYork.Theyhadn’tbeendatingformorethana month.He’dtakenheronatrailthathe’dgrownupwalkingalong, andshe’dsnappedthephotowhenhe’drunaheadtoshowherasmall stream.

Shehoveredherthumboverthechatthread,abouttotellhimthat shewasn’thungry,andshewouldjusthaveacoffee,whenherthumb retreated,andherphoneslippedbackintoherpocket.

Hehadn’tbeentryingtoshowherastreamupahead.He’dbeen angryatherforbeingsoslow.He’dgrumbledthewholetimeabout herflimsytrainersandthinjacketeventhoughheknewshe’dnever beenanoutdoorsyperson.Hersockshadbeenwetfromtherain,and hercoldfingerswerenumbasshe’dfumbledtotakeherphoneoutof herjacketpocket,thezipscrapingwhitelinesontoherdryskin.She’d wantedtotakeaphotoofthetreestosendtoherparents,shehadn’t evenmeanttogethiminit.Buttherehewas,alreadysofarahead withhisheadturned,mouthopen,ashetoldheraboutanotherthing hedidn’tlike.Itwasfouryearslaterthatshewasfinallybreakingup withhim,butitmust’vebeensometimenowthatJamiehadknown theirrelationshipwasacagebuiltaroundabirdthatwaslongdead.

Ithadallstartedamonthagowiththeabortion uglyword Jamie hadalwaysthoughtittooscientific.Notthatshewasoverlyreligious, buttheprocedurehadalwaysseemedtoherassomewhereinthe middle,noteitheror.Itwaspersonal,andshe’dneverbeenableto conjureanimageofit.Instead,shecouldonlyseethehospitalcurtain beingdrawnastheworld’ssmallestcandlewasblownoutbythe world’ssoftestwind.Itwasthedefinitionofaconceptthathappened innewsarticlesthat,thoughshecouldtouchwithherthumb,always camefromanotherworld andthenithadbeenonherdoorstep. Itwasalloveranddonewithinaweek.Fromthefirstsuspicionto thepregnancytest,thequickconversationwithSteven,theprocedure onFriday,andaweekendofrecoverytobebackreadyforworkon Monday.ButitwasthatfirstMondaywhenthecreatureinher laundrybaskethadgrownlegs,andeversince,somethinghadalso beengrowinginsideofher.Another,smallercreaturethatwas unsettledandquietlyfurious.

Tooembarrassedtotellherparentsorfriends,Jamiehadgonetothe clinicalone,hadtheprocedurealone,andhadtakenthesubway homejustlikeshewasdoingnow.Noonehadofferedheraseatand soshe’dcollapsedagainstthesubwaydoorsandhadtohaulherself outofthewaywitheverystoptoletpeopleinandout.Therewere sixteenintotal.Oncebackinherapartmentshe’dcurledintoaball onherbathroomfloorandspenttheweekendbleedingoutwhatfelt liketheentiretyofherinsides.Onlywhenshewassuretherewas nothingmorethatherbodycouldgivehadJamiepickedherselfup, thrownherselfintotheshower,andmovedon.Buttherewerestill timeswhenshefeltlikeshewasstillbleeding.

Well,you’lljustgetridofit.Yeah?

Thatwasallhehadsaid.Thenhe’dkissedherontheforeheadand toldherthathecouldn’ttalkaboutitanymorebecauseitwasmaking himsad.That’swhenJamie’ssuspicionsbegan.

She’dattemptedtoignorehercuriosityfortwoweeks,untilonenight whenhersuspicionswereundeniablyconfirmed.She’dbeenonher phonewhenshe’dscrolledontoa26-secondvideoabouthowHewas takingthecreditforthefallofRoev.Wadeandwasnowpromising HisvotersthatHe’dfinishthejobwithanationalban.Allinthe nameofa‘betterAmerica’.Hernurse’ssmileanddoctor’s sympatheticfaceflashedacrosshervisionand,instinctively,she’d turnedtoStevenonthesofanexttoherandshownhimtheclip.It wasapleaandacalling,aquestionof‘canyoubelieveit?’.Buthis facestayedempty,hiseyesbored.

“Youlikehim?”She’dsaidplainly,asiftheyweretalkingabouta colleague.

“Notlikethat,it’sjust…”He’dpurposefullytrailedoffashestroked hischin,andJamiehadfeltherattractiontohimcrumpleupanddie. “It’sjust?”

Heshruggedandbeganscrollingonhisownphone.

“AllI’msayingisthatunderHimmystocksweregood.”

Jamie’sstomachchurned.Herdinner,primesteaksthathehad bought,andshehadcooked,turnedheavyandsourinhergut.Then she’drolledbackandcontinuedtoscrollonherphone,the26-second videoevaporatingasshefellfurtherandfurtheraway.Notfocusing forasinglesecondbutratherallowingtheflashingpicturesand cacophonyofsoundstoguideherthroughabarrageofemotions.

Likemostthings,itpassed,andthenightwenton,butthethoughtof Steven’s‘stocks’leftsomethinghardinJamie’sheart.Somethingthat wouldnever,everleave.

Ifthismorningshe’dwokenupandseenavictorythatmadesenseof herbluetoesnowpokingoutthebottomofhertights,thenmaybe theywould’vebeentogetherafewmoreyears.Maybetheywould’ve gottenmarriedandhadchildrenandJamiecould’velivedaperfect lifewithouteverknowingthefullextentofhowherhusband thought.Butinstead,Hehadwon,andJamiehadlost,andthiswas herpunishment.

Thesubwaypulledintoherstop,andasiftuggedbyinvisiblepuppet strings,Jamierosefromherseatandsteppedoutofthecarriage.The worldaroundher therushofbodies,thehumofconversation,the screechofadepartingtrain barelyregisteredasshepushedthrough themorningcommutersandstraytourists.Everythingfeltdistant andmuffled,yet,despitethesluggishhazecloudinghermind,her bootscarriedherforwardwithmechanicaldetermination.Eachstep strikingthesubway’sconcretestairswithenoughforcetobreakthe citybeneathher.

Backonneutralground,Jamiekeptmoving,thecafé’sFrench-styled signalreadyinview.Shootinglikeabulletacrosstheconcrete,Jamie wasnowheavingdesperatebreaths,suckingdowntheNewYorkair asifitwereabalm.

Focusinghergaze,shespottedSteventhroughthecaféwindow,and somethingweakwithinherstuttered.Allatoncesheremembered everynicethinghehadeverdone.Everytimehe’dmadeherlaughso hardshe’dcried,allthegiftsthathadbeenleftonherdeskatwork, andeverybouquetofflowersinherapartment,especiallytheones aftertheprocedure,fulltothebrimwithlilies.Didheknowthat’s whatshewantedtocallherdaughter?

Nowhewasseatedbythewindowoftheirsecond-favouritebreakfast spot,ridingthehighofhisvictorylastnightwithhisred-checkered tieashetiltedhisheaduptowardsayoungLatinawaitress.His posturewasrelaxed,hishandrunningabsent-mindedlythroughhis hair.Jamieswallowedthickly.Sheknewthatgesture,knewthateasy, effortlesssmilestretchedacrosshisbusiness-casualface.Stevenwas flirting.Theyhadjustbeenflowers;he’dprobablygottenhisassistant toorderthem.

Herbootskeptmarching,hernewblisterradiatingpainthroughthe lengthofherbodyandbeyond.Withoutbreathingsheenteredthe coffeeshop,faintlyawareofthebellringingbehindher.Hislaughter envelopedher,andsomepartofJamiecringedathowquicklyshe assumedhewaslaughingather.

You’lljustgetridofit.Yeah?

InahazeshestrodeuptowardsSteven.TheSanFranciscofont flashinginfrontofhereyes,thecurveoftheblackletteringblotting outthesunlightstreaminginfromthewindow.Nowatthetable,the waitressturnedandsmiledatJamie,herdarkeyestightandpleading. ThewaitresswantedJamietorescueherfromSteven’ssoursmileand greedyeyes.Jamiealmostlaughed,itwasthefirstthingtolightenthe weightonherheartandmaketheblacklettersfadefromview.

Getinline,shethought.

“Hithere,doyouknowwhatyou’dliketodrink?”Thewaitressasked asshetookastepawayfromSteven,whoseeyesfollowedher movement.

ShewasprobablytenyearsyoungerthanJamiewithdarkcurls, smoothunblemishedskinandlargedeer-likeeyes.Acleanslateofa person.Jamieturnedfromherandlookedproperlyatherboyfriend.

Themanshehadsharedfouryearsofherlifewith,withhisstupid combover,redtieandugly,loud,oppressivemouth.

Itstartedslowly,thenallatoncesomethingclosetofreedombeganto spreadacrossJamie’sbody,fromthetopofherheadtotheverytips ofhertoes.

“StevenI’m…”shestopped,thenletitgo.“It’sover.I’mdone.”

SelfPortraitAsTextMessagesfromFriends AnnaJones

allpplilove&sillyantics/Annnaaa/AnnaImissyou:(/annatheyare playingcomeoneileenatthechristmasmarketinbristol/Whydoeshe thinkhehasachancewbaddieanna/Sexy/Smart/Makesmetea/Has adadcalledDavidjones/Butterfly/Tallsocanreachshelvesintesco/ Nicehair/IslikephoebewallerBridge/Got70000notesonatumblr post/Likesdoctorwho/Wholesome(watchesallcreaturesgreatand small)/ANNA/Annayou’rehavingahowler/Annawhatthefuck/ Sobrietyisreturningtoyoulikeyourownsoapshow/youaretheitgirl /classicannalatefordate/Annamydear,youowememoney/Anna paidmetwicelmfao/AnnaYrcrazy/that’swaytomuchcoffee/Anna =phoebetallerbridge/Iknewyouwouldyoucheekybrontosaurus/ ThankslittletinytinyAnnaminuscule/Idon’tthinkit’sthatdeep cheekychops/okAnna/Annawillweeversleep/AnnaIloveyoumy smallbaby/Lybabed/Babes/Lovu/Illbringyouajackettowear

LinestoNelson:EyetoEye

Eames

ThispoemwascomposedaboutHoratioNelsonafteratriptothe NationalMaritimeMuseum.Nelsonwasanavalherointhe NapoleonicWars;hewasalsoshort,anamputeeandpossiblyqueer.On displayisthesmalluniformhewaskilledin,includingtheholefrom thebulletthatkilledhim.

Imaynothaveyourmind, ButIhavemymorals.Mymettle. AndIseesomethingofmyselfinyou. Handinfin,wouldIhaveshockedyou? Scarredbyverydifferentbattles. Ilookatyourjacketandthink Itwouldfit. Itcouldfit.Ifyouletme. Pleaseletme,we’llswap. Yousaid“kissme”notkismet Butmaybeitwas Destinythatoureyesmeetacrossthegallery Andyouseemeeyetoeye.

ABleakConversationwithmyChest-of-Drawers

AnnaJones

C.D:soyougotanotherplanttoday

A.J:yes.Idid

C.D:howmuch

A.J:notwillingtodisclosethatinformation

C.D:hm.she’sabig-un

A.J:don’tberude

C.D:justfacts,Imeanit’smewho’scarryingit

A.J:that’sliterallyyourjob

C.D:myjobissocksandpants.notgiantswiss-cheesemonsterasand half-emptybottlesofcointreau

A.J:thatcointreauislike10yearsoldit’spracticallyafamily heirloomatthispoint…havesomerespect

C.D:canyouatleastfixmydrawersthen

A.J:Itriedbabes,Iboughtascrewdriverandeverything...thewood’s allwarpedfrom thelasttenants

C.D:yatheywereacrazybunch

A.J:didtheyeverbuyplantsforyou

C.D:yesbuttheydidn’tkillnearlyasmanyasyouhave

A.J:wowok

C.D:justsaying

A.J:sadiethecactiisstillgoingstrong

C.D:butyouonlyhave3monthsleftofyourtenancyandyou’re buyingnewplants

A.J:so

C.D:wellwhat’sthepoint

A.J:youcanalwaysstartagain

C.D:andagainandagainandagain

A.J:yaokI’vekilledalotofplants

C.D:yeah (beat)

well.atleastyoutried

A.J:thatIdid (beat)

C.D:willyoumissme

A.J:...no

C.D:wowwwwwww

A.J:okwaitIdidn’tmeanitlikethat

C.D:surebabes

A.J:noit’sjust,there’ssomanythingstomiss,youcan’tkeepitallin yourheadat

thesametime,it’sliketryingtojugglecats,ortypeonyourphone whenit’sraining

C.D:IsupposeIprobablywon’tmissyoueither

A.J:no

C.D:andyou’llhaveanewchest-of-drawers

A.J:yes

C.D:andanewmonsteraplant

A.J:hey

C.D:butI’llhavesomeoneelse’spants.andtrinketdisheswithtacky jewelleryinthem

A.J:exactly.

C.D:ok. (beat)

it’salotofworkstartingoveragain

A.J:Iknow

C.D:yourplantlooksreallygood

A.J:yes.itdoes.

Poemsfrom“behold”

ChloeWoodhouse

SwanfounddeadwithgunshotwoundsinRoyalWootton Bassett

Airshotfromherlungs; theswansunktothetop

Water,Iwishforwater, thewaythefishdidwhentheydrowned

Coquette,herheartisadvertising

Beauty,poseforswanlake they’llloveitthey’lllogon

Poutsohardyourtorsohasgills

Thisiswhatthescreensays Swimwomanswim

the(algo)rithmeatsawayallselffromourheads

i trytoshout “ Grabmyhand! HOLDON, please WATERS

CONNECT! “

Gemini: Everyhourcellsprocess questionsassimilateanswersfor ourleisure CoreCorespun, sinewprobingtheglobe likeatide erasingsipsofwater

Hereisaselectionofskinfromtheweb, whowouldyoupreferItake? Ourmouthsaretoodrytoscream. // beholdisacollectionofpoetrycallingattentiontotheAnthropoceneand ourglobalclimatecrisis.Thepoems‘Swanshotdead...’and‘Gemini’ areapartofbehold’ssequencewhichappearslikeavirtualfeed.This structureparrotsthedistortionindustryandhumanactivityinflicton ourclimate.Virtualmediathensharesthesedistortionswithus throughvirtualfeeds,microcontent,socialmediapostsetc.This virtualitydisruptsourresponsestoclimatecrisisandmakesitharderto activelybeclimatefriendlyirl.Tocircumventthis,beholduses docupoetryandimmersivelanguagetoemotionallypresentthe Anthropocene’seffectsontheenvironment,reality,andpsyche.The collectioncloseswithaliteralcalltoaction,achievingtheempathy behold’sspeakercallsfor:“Werise/forourfuture/Forfreedom/For eachother/Together”.

ea Glass Isle Mia Allen

IcanrememberthedaywemovedtoSeaGlassIslesoclearlythatifI closemyeyes,Icantastethesaltontheair.‘SeaGlassIsle’youcalled it,becauseofthosebright,frostedpiecesthatshimmeredinthefoam. Thatwasn’titsactualname,ofcourse.Funny,Ican’trememberthe realoneanymore–onlytheoneyougaveit.It’sfunnywhatwekeep andwhatwelose;whatweareleftwithwhentime,likecoldocean water,poundsthesharpedgesofmemoryintosmooth,frosted pebbles.

Yes,youwouldsay,funny.Yourvoicewouldclinklikeglassonglass.

Irememberturningplatesslickwithsuds,Iremembersoap.Big, whiteblocksofit,pileduponthesill,leavingbehindringsofsticky wax.Summerwasthebusinessofbeesandmeltedice-cream;in winter,wavesburstalongtherocks,shootingspiresoffoam,raining mist.Ournightswerespentpiledinblankets,tradingsecrets.What didyouwanttobe,whenyouwereakid?Iwantedtobeaspaceman; Iwouldsearchtheskyforstardustandbringithometoyou.

Look,yousaid,aswewalkedarm-in-armalongthecoastline:it’sthe stardustofthesea.Ilaughed,Ilaughedatthelittlegreenthingin yourhand.It’sonlyapieceofglass,Ihadsaid.Unremarkable.But thatlittlethinghadtravelledallalongthebottomoftheoceanto washuponourtinyshore,anechotothecolourofyoureyes.

It’sfunnywhatwekeepandwhatwelose.Istillhavethatpieceofsea glass,evennow.Itsitsonmywindowsill,spinningbeadsoflightover thebarewalls.Memorywentintotheseawithyou,totrawlthe lowesttrenchesandcrashuponstonybeaches.Now,Iturnthe smoothglassinmyfingersongreymorningsandtrytoremember you.Idon’t.Yourlaughingmouthisaforeignshape,aflashoflight inathundercloud.WhenItastesalttears,IonlyrememberSeaGlass Isle,glitteringwithtechnicolourfool’sgold.

Thegirlcomesinherpresseduniform.Shebringswithheratrayof papercupsfilledwithadifferentkindofseaglass,chalk-whiteand dusty.Idrinkthemnotwithsaltwaterbutthestalekindthatcomes fromthekitchentap.Theyarewashingthesaltandtheglassoutof me,andallthecolour,too.

Thenthemanwithslate-stoneeyesasks,howdoyoufeel,doyou remember?

OfcourseIremember,Isay,whatistheretoforget?

Hecrumbleslikeseafoam.Asheleaves,hisfaceisthemillpondwater inthebay.

“Baddayformumtoday”,hetellshiswife,whowaitsforhiminthe car.

Iturnthestoneagainandthinkofyou.AllIcanconjureisseaglass green,likethestoneyoupressedintomypalmallthoseyearsago, promisingstardust.

Iwonder:iftheoceanistheinverseofthestars,doesthatmakeyoua spaceman,too?

ryPoem,2024

eWilson-Patrick

wet.Isayitthesamewayachildsaysit.Icall(out)to ellinapuddle’itwasaportaltoanotherworldinw ingerartfully(likeSylvia)andwithasharpknifeto orasoupIwillfeedmydaughterswhentheyareill sickness,addginger(skinnedminced).Icomeout withapeeledkneethatItwinkleproudlylikeanank asmallgod,I(was)madestormsintostockpots.Ihadfishin ocean.Afightingfishthatgotsickandturned wedgedupsomewhereinconvenienttodie.Acatfisht thinkofwhatfitscomfortablyinmymouth(neve witnessuntilImustcleanandfeedandembalmin Isetupmirrorseverywhereandelecttolivelifea rudishporeswon’tletthefeathersout.Ithumbm outthebarbs(convincedtheyareteeth).Squawk nisedasawarmmother.Thebrandnewyearisab quishingthefearofmyownstomach.Onelastcu (grownwomancannottoastwithcarbonatedgrap er).IfeltentitledtofindquietonceIopenedmy isbegging)butIbrokemyglassesandawomanfixedt eventhoughIhadmoneytopayher.Itrainedforawe Iwastootired(Isaid)tostandinit.

Hooked

HannahCoyle

I’mafishoutofwater,breathingairandexposed, Abluntknifetostuntedscales, Ripmymuscleslikefishingline,I’mposed.

LaidliketheLastSupper,tailtonose, Readmybloodvesselsasdeepbrail

Inyourteeth,gnawmytendonsexposed.

Ithrashandsquirmandwritheopposed, Butyoushredthebonesfrommyfishtail

Hangingthemtodryandadmire:I’mposed.

Youbleedmedry,scoffing,ill-disposed.

Gaggingonyourbreath,asIflail Nakedandpink,unanchoredandexposed.

Makemypartsfit,mybodyrecomposed. Whatisleftarethetracesandtrails, Youhookedandreeled,I’mcaught,I’mposed. Istoppedtryingandmybodydecomposed.

Thosebaitwormsofpoisonwereamaggot’sveil. Iwasafishoutofwater,breathingairandexposed, Yourippedmymuscleslikefishingline,I’mfinallyPosed.

AbouttheContributors

AnnaJonesisathird-yearEnglishLitstudentandpoetryenthusiast.A regularontheYoungPoetsNetwork,shehasbeenpublishedonlineby ThePoetrySociety,andherpoetrywasusedforthewellbeingproject ‘Steph’sPoetrySpace’inschoolsacrossthecountry.In2023,Annawas offeredaplaceattheTowerPoetrySummerSchool,whichhosted sixteenyoungpoetsatChristChurchCollege,Oxford,withtheaimof developingtheirwritingandcriticalskills.In2024,shewaspublishedin Heroica’sdebutanthology‘BodyOdyssey,’whichcentredonthethemes ofgirlhood,bodies,andbelonging.MostrecentlyAnnahostedacharity poetryslamwithStoreBoughtFlowers,theCardiffUnizine.

NikGwinnisintheirsecondyearoftheEnglishLiteraturewithCreative WritingBAatCardiffUniversity.Theyarealsopartoftheteamthat runstheStore-BoughtFlowerscreativewritingzineattheuniversityand havehelpedtoorganisefundraisingeventsalongsideit.Inadditionto writing,theyenjoyphotographyintheirfreetime,andhopetocontinue topublishinbothmediums.Otheractivitiestheyenjoyincludecrochet, netballand,nowthatit’ssunny,headingtoButeParktofeedthecrows andgetthroughtheirreadinglist.Theymostoftenliketoreadandwrite gothicpieces,butalsoengagewithpoetryandrealism.

MorganT.JonesisaWelshmultimediaartistandwriterbornandraised onafarmontheGowerPeninsula.Heiscurrentlyinhisthirdyearofthe BAinEnglishLiteratureandCreativeWritingatCardiffUniversity. Specialisinginsurrealism,heprimarilyworksinwatercolour,inkandoil. TakinginspirationfromthenaturalbeautyofWales,aswellasa fascinationwithdreamsandhumanconnections,heaimstodepictthe significantemotionsthatoftenlieinsmall,definingmoments.

Inadditiontopainting,heoccupieshistimewithsculpture,poetry,short fiction,andbeachdayswithhisdogBob.Heiscurrentlyworking towardswritingandillustratingacollectionofdarkfantasy/magic realismshortstories,andaspirestoproduceanillustratednovelinthe future.

EamesisathirdyearEnglishLiteraturestudentatCardiffUniversity. EnglishbybirthandScottishbybloodhenowpreferslivinginWales.He stoppedwritingcreativelywhenthecurriculumnolongerdemandedit, butrealisedthatsomethingsarebestexpressedthroughpoems.Inspired bynavalhistorybutafraidoftheseaheishappytowrite indoorsand ondryland andleavetheadventuringtoothers.Whenneitherreading norwritinghehasjuststartedlearningtoLindyHop.

MiaAllenisanMAEnglishLiteraturestudentandloverofallthings slightlymelancholy.Whileshedreamsoffollowingacareerinacademia, shereservesasecretloveforcreativewriting.Herpiecesoftenfeature strangelongingsandtheechoesbetweenhumansadnessandnature. Althoughthisisherfirstpublication,shehopestoreappearinthefuture. Inherfreetime,sheenjoysplayingpiano,painting,drinkingcoffee,and sneakingplantsintothehouse.Shecanoftenbefoundmusingthrough graveyardsorseekingcaffeineinvariouscoffeeshopsaroundCardiff.

CarysSpeedisawriterfromNewcastle,currentlybasedinCardiff, wheresheisinherthirdyearstudyingEnglishandCreativeWritingat CardiffUniversity.Herworkexploreswomanhood,identity,andthe intersectionsofthepersonalandpolitical,oftenthroughquietmoments thatgesturetowardsomethinglarger.ShealsorunsCarysReads,where shepublishesherworkandwritesablogonnovels,literaryculture,and thewaysourreadinghabitsareshapedbythedigitalage.Herworkis inspiredbywriterswhoareemotionallypreciseandalittleruthless,such asJeffreyEugenides,JaneAusten,andIanMcEwan.

ChloeWoodhouseisaperformancepoetgraduatingfromCardiff UniversityJuly2025.Thissummer,shewillhaveearnedaBAinEnglish LiteratureandCreativeWriting,andaspirestoshareherworkwiththe public.Shewritestoinspireintrospection,empathy,andholisticsocial change.Chloewillcontinuetoshareherpoetryandtoseekother creativeseagertolearnmoreabouttheirpractice.Aftergraduation,she willbeexploringlocalandinternationalopportunitieswhicharehelping tosupportpeopleandtheplanet.

AbouttheTeam

SabineWilson-PatrickisoriginallyfromBarbadosandisinherthird yearatCardiffUniversitystudyingEnglishLiterature&Creative Writing.ShehasperformedattheHayFestivalandherwritinghasbeen nominatedfortheBestoftheNetandBestSmallFictionsanthologies. HerworkcanbefoundinMidnight&Indigo,AsterLit,NawrMagazine andEtherealMagazine.SheistheManagingEditorofRoverMagazine andtheLoveSectionEditorofQuenchMagazine.ShecreatedTonic Magazinebecauseshelovesthediversityofcreativewritingthatliterary magazinesfoster.

Ally-JohGowan-DayhasadegreeinEnglishLiteratureandCreative WritingandiscurrentlystudyinganMAinCreativeWriting.Her writingfocusesonlifewithtrauma,specificallydealingwithchildhood traumaandPTSD.Previouslyshehasworkedasaneditorialassistantfor WalesArtsReviewandasafreelanceeditorandresearcherforcompanies suchasOpenGeniusandKoganPage.SheoriginallyhailsfromSomerset buthaslivedintheValleysfor6yearsnowandcan’timagineherself anywhereelse,evenwiththerainandthehillshercarenginehates.

AngelaGriffithisafinalyearEnglishLiteratureandCreativeWriting undergraduateatCardiffUniversity,originallyfromManchester.Her favouritereadsareusuallyliteraryrealismandshortstories,butrecently she’sbeenlookingforabooktohelpherlearnSpanish!Angela’swriting remainsrootedinherhomecity(despitehertravelsacrossEurope, SoutheasternAsia,AustraliaandNorthAmerica).Currently,sheisworking onacollectionofshortstoriessetagainstthebackdropofthe2024raceriots inManchester.AsproseeditorofTonic,Angelaisthrilledtoseethefirst submissionsoftalentedwriters,poets,andartistsofCardiffUniversityand wantstoencourageeveryonetosubmittheirwork!

BoBurtisacreativelydriven,bubblythirdyearstudentstudyingEnglish LiteraturewithCreativeWriting.Shelovesreadingpersonalessaysand contemporaryfiction,bothofferingaperfectbalanceofrelatabilityand escapismthatallowshertoconnectwithdiverseperspectives.Arecent, andfavourite,readwasBlueSistersbyCocoMellors.Sheloveditsraw explorationofsisterhoodandithassincebecomeakeysourceof inspirationforherfinalyearcreativeproject.Sheisoverthemoonwith herroleasprose-editor,excitedtocontributetoshapingtheliterary communityatCardiffUniversity.

MeganIngram-JonesistheProseEditorforTonicandapart-timeMA EnglishLiteraturestudentatCardiffUniversity.Shehasabackgroundin editingandmarketing,withexperiencerefiningproseforclarityand accessibility.Asco-headofDAPSattheUniversityofSouthWales,she oversaweditingandpublishingfortheanthology,showcasingemerging voices.Sheisespeciallydrawntomagicrealismandnarrativeessays, appreciatingboldstorytellingandimmersiveprose.Alwaysseekingwork thatresonatesbeyondthepage,shevalueswritingthatexploresidentity, memory,andcultureinmeaningful,thought-provokingways.

SamDavieslovesallthingsliterature,particularlyGreekmythsand philosophy.Passionateaboutretellingsandclassics,heiscurrently workingonhisownnovelwhileresearchingtheintersectionsofcelebrity culture,fandom,anddigitalactivismforhisdissertation.Whennot readingorwriting,Samisimmersedinpopculture,dissectingthelatest albumreleasesormediatrends.Inhisfinalyearofuniversitystudying journalism,hehopestobuildacareerinmagazinesandpublishing.With aloveforstorytellinginallforms,hefindsinspirationineverythingfrom classicliteraturetomodernmusic.

CaitlinTinaJonesisathird-yearCreativeWritingstudentandemerging poetfromHengoed,SouthWales.Herpoemshavebeenpublishedby ThePoetrySociety’sYoungPoetsNetwork,PoetryWales,andPropel. Herpoemshavealsofeaturedinvariousanthologies,includingHe,She, They,Us:QueerPoems(PanMacmillan)andBeyond/TuHwnt: AnthologyofWelshD/deafandDisabledWriters(LucentDreaming). SheiscurrentlyworkingwithEdgeHillUniversityasaLivedExperience ConsultantonArts4Us,a£2.5mresearchprojectusingcreativesolutions toalleviatestressfromchildrenandyoungadultswithmentalhealth struggles.

HannahCoyleispartofthepoetryanddesignteams.Theyloveallsorts ofwritingbutintheircourse,EnglishLiteratureandCreativeWriting, theyhavefocusedtheirpoetryskillsandareworkingtowardstheir dissertation.Askilltheywanttopracticemoreistheirsfxmakeup,which theyusedtodoalotmore,butnowthatuniworkhaspickedup,the makeupbrusheshavedonedownIntheirfreetime,theylovetoread, drawandplayinstruments!Theyalsolovefoodandarealwaysupfor orderingatake-awayandwatchingafilmwithfriendsorgoingoutfor drinksandplayingboardgames.

MillieHigginsisathird-yearEnglishLiteraturestudentatCardiff University,withapassionforreading,writingandart.Shehas contributedextensivelytoCardiffStudentMediathroughoutherthree yearsatuniversity.Millie’sloveforliteraturestartedwithRoaldDahland hasgrowntospanvariousgenres,particularlythrillersandmemoirs,and covermanyliteraryforms.Arthasalsobeenalong-lastinghobby,shaped throughschoolclasses,teachingitatsummercampandfrequentvisitsto artgalleries.Alongsideheracademicpursuits,otherhobbiesofMillie’s includestravelingandspendingtimewithfriendsandfamily.

CharlotteHardie-Wattsisasecond-yearJournalism&Politicsstudent. ShewasborninEnglandbutgrewupintheSouthofFranceformostof herlife.Fromasyoungasshecanremember,Charlotterecallsalways havingacreativespirit.Sheparticipatedinmanyartclassesanddid anythingthatrequireddrawingorpainting.At18,shewasableto completeseveralartisticprojectslikepaintingsorinstallationsand participatedinaprojecttohelpblindpeopleimagineartpiecesthrough touch.ThroughthisroleatTonic,sheaimstoencouragestudentsto showcasetheirartpiecesandbeproudoftheircreativity.

OliviaNilsenhailsfromanislandintheU.S.movingoverwhenshewas twelve,livingintheUKeversince.In2020,shemovedtoCardiffto studyherEnglishLiteratureBA.Afterfinishingherdegree,she continuedtoliveandworkinthecitybeforedecidingtoreturntostudy. Currently,sheisinherfirstyearofapart-timemaster's.Alongsideher studies,shehasbecomeanillustratorforbothQuenchandTonic.She enjoysspendinghertimereadingliterature,painting,knitting,and gardening.Sheaspirestobecomeanacademicwhilecontinuingtocreate artwork.

JuliaBottomsisaDeputyEditorofQuenchMagazineandOpinion EditoratEmpowordJournalism.SheisalsoawriteratBuzzMagazine andCardiffTimes,writingaboutanythingandeverythingfromWales’ 20mphspeedlimittointerviewingAberystwythKinkSociety.Currently finishingherfinalyearofherJournalismandEnglishLiterature undergradatCardiff,shewillbemovingtoLondoninSeptemberfora MastersinMagazineJournalismatCityUniversity.Herfavouritethings intheworldareTheToeRagMagazine,DavidLynch,TalkingHeads anddigitalcameras.JuliahasbylinesinTheSouthWalesArgus,Buzz Magazine,CardiffTimes,Quench,RoverMag,Multippl,Empoword JournalismandGreyBearLiteratureMagazine.

Masthead

HeadofTonic

SabineWilson-Patrick

ProseEditors

Ally-JohGowan-Day

MeganIngram-Jones

BoBurt

AngelaGriffith

PoetryEditors

SamDavies

CaitlinTinaJones

HannahCoyle

VisualArtsEditors

MillieHiggins

CharlotteHardie-Watts

Design&Illustration

SabineWilson-Patrick

HannahCoyle(9,30,44)

ProofReaders

JuliaBottoms

OliviaNilsen