Nocturne Infinitas Volume XVI Spring 2022
The Gwinnett School of Mathematics, Science, and Technology 970 McElvaney Lane Lawrenceville, GA 30043
“There is no path. Beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of Dark… …what could possibly await us? And yet, we seek it, insatiably… Such is our fate.” Aldia, Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin
Letter from the Editor: Welcome to Infinitas literary magazine’s 16th volume, Nocturne, reader! This issue is organized as a mixture of genres and tones to consistently bring out a balanced variety of new perspectives on the night. For some of our protagonists, the night is a time of peace and solace. For others, it is a time of fear and regret. These and many more attitudes are all common responses to the curtain of darkness we must regularly experience. Each written and visual piece is beautifully crafted so the reader may reminisce on every image, character, conflict, mood, and idea representing the intricate night. We intend that by the end of the magazine, readers will reflect on these contrasting viewpoints and develop an appreciation for the night’s many perplexities. Thank you to those who shared the literary and artistic works that make up this magazine.
Shiza Ghani, 2022
Table of
1
Light and Dark: A Dichotomy by Micah Xu Untitled by Fiker Ayalew
3
Creatures of the Night by Favour A. Gbadegesin Fractals of Kyle by Isabel George
4
The Nights You Don’t Recall by Aarish Allani Sad Man by Ruth Gabriel
5
Seeing the Stars by Serene Harris Star Trails by Sofia Monteiro
7
Her Own Prisoner by Fiker Ayalew No Evil by LanAnh Doan
9
Final Reminiscence by Usha Umair Keeping It Together by MaiAnh Doan
11 13 17
Excess by Natalia Alvarez-Rodriguez Mat-eye-rial World by Nika Levasova What Happens in the Night by Aly Aadil Salewala Mental.exe by Jayden Nguyen
Tomorrow by Adaeze Uzoije Discarded by Serene Harris
Contents
Little Frost Flower by Ruth Gabriel Frost Flower by Ruth Gabriel Purple Irises by Helen Nguyen Iris by Helen Nguyen Untitled by Annalee Fink Bonaventure by Gianna Spaulding
Jochebed by Aamna Rehman Fishing Day by Rebekah Shin Untitled by Nhu-Mai Vu
19 20
23
Silence by Nate Belai The Thinkerer by Kaif Ridwan
24
Solace by Sunrise by Lauren Shinn Overpass at Sunset by Kacy Woodring
25
The Sacrifice and the Saint by Micah Xu Creatures of the Night 2 by Alexandra Ly
27
Luna by Ruth Gabriel Fireflies for the Stars by Ruth Gabriel The Prince by Ruth Gabriel Hanahaki by Nina Johnson Heart Plant by Catalina Camacho Rondon
29 33
Table of
35 37 38 39 41
Excerpt of Unknown History by Ally Cocar Sorry to Spook Ya by Adaija Childs Radiance in Darkness by Amir Austin Untitled by Laila Abdalla The Bird’s Call by Amah Mancho Nightide Waltz by Mercy Ewoodzie Consequence of the Loa by Karine Felix figures by Andrea Trejo
She Dances... by Kiera Toole Secrets by Divya Tiwary
42
Eldritch by Vineet Upadhya Aquatic Tranquility by Gloria Gao
43
The Night Weaver by Lauren Shinn Untitled by Alexandra Ly
45
Untitled by Alex Trulson Cloudy Night Sky by Cameron Grey In the Dark of Night by Sofia Monteiro Untitled by Ruth Gabriel
47
Contents
Close Your Eyes by Justin Kim Untitled by Hatim Burhani Crescent and Star by Aamna Rehman Gold Moon Necklace by Lananh Doan Tyto Alba by Alicia Zheng Untitled by Abby Smith The City’s Portrait by Shiza Ghani The City by Sofia Monteiro
49 51 53 55
Paralyzed by Shiza Ghani at odds by Josephine Chivore
57
Dawn Will Break by Micah Xu At Daybreak’s Edge by Sofia Monteiro
59
The Deer by Elizabeth Hall Untitled by Elizabeth Hall We Never Went to the Moon? by Bobby Sharma First Quarter Moon by Sofia Monteiro De La Luna by Kenny Ngo Moonlight by Cianna Wang
61 63 65
Light and Dark: A Dichotomy Micah Xu, 2024 Whenever we look at the media we read, watch, and play, there are always certain themes and ideas that we pick up on—consciously or not. One theme that has penetrated the collective storytelling of the world is the idea of darkness and light. Historically, darkness has always been portrayed as evil and is still typically portrayed that way. Why might darkness, something that is just as much a part of our lives as light, and something that occupies the night in its entirety, be frowned upon when compared to its brighter counterpart? The answer, according to authors like Lovecraft, is that it heralds the unknown. Fear of the unknown is the oldest fear, and just as the light might reveal the truth, the darkness conceals and hides it. When it is dark outside, with no noise other than the sounds of the night, and no light other than the moon shining overhead, humans cannot see what lies just a few meters away, and that terrifies them. It makes our minds go wild. On the contrary, the light “saves” us from the dark by expelling it and keeping it at bay. For references to the “light as a savior” idea, look no further than the most published book in the world, the Bible. The heroes of the Bible, including Jesus Christ, are constantly portrayed as having light surrounding them. Light represents God, and God heralds ideas and things we as humans find desirable. Jesus himself even refers to himself as “the way, the truth, and the light”. This idea, which started from the fear of the unknown, has penetrated deep into our 1
culture, and as people draw inspiration from older texts, especially western ones, they carry this idea with them. The light purifies and saves us from the dark. That being said, there are other cultures that portray darkness differently. For example, the ever-prolific symbol of Yin and Yang balances darkness and light. Instead of the light beating the darkness, the two exist in a state of balance that brings about harmony, and harmony is the desirable object rather than purely light. This idea carries over into modern media even today, with many modern East Asian books supporting the idea that one must not overpower the other, or calamity will strike. Light and dark, like anything else, must remain in balance. This begs the question, what good does darkness bring to the metaphorical spotlight? Why would a culture glorify darkness as much as the truth-bearing light? The answer is something we as humans desire frequently. Something students desire after their long and arduous tests, something that the elderly desire in their future, and something that we all want after a long day. The answer is comfort.
The darkness, unlike the light, heralds comfort and gentleness. It is no wonder than in certain cultures, things typically associated with the night, such as the moon, and even the Spanish word for darkness, are seen as feminine and are referred to with feminine articles. Historically, feminine things were seen as nurturing (like mother Earth), which leans into the idea that the darkness is comforting. The light heralds the truth, yes, but it also reveals the truth. It reveals people as the sick, twisted individuals they might believe themselves to be, and it is the light that brings about action. Without light, trees would not grow. Without light, the harvest dies. Without light, civilization does not exist. All of this is to say that the light is commanding. It is radiant, and it is absolute in its decrees, for better or worse. Whereas the dark, unlike the light, is concealing, cold, and comforting. The dark, in essence, is comfort. If this is hard to imagine, think about it, when a person is sad or distraught, do they typically run into a crowd of people and into the streets proclaiming their sadness? No, usually people run into their rooms, somewhere isolated and, quite frequently, dark. This sort of idea is manifested in media like Dark Souls, where the darkness provides comfort from the commands of the light. The light is too loud and commanding, too angry and radiant, and the dark provides comfort from the action and movement of the light. The world stands still when it is dark, even for a moment. A moment frozen in time. We have to step into the dark for a moment so that we can eventually face the light. In our modern media, the idea of the light being good is not entirely gone, nor is it even unpopular. That being said, the darkness and the light being in balance brings about harmony over truth,
which can be interpreted in a number of interesting ways. Does the truth take precedence over comfort? Does balance outweigh the light’s action? These are all things that depend on the work they are put in. These are all questions authors ask themselves when writing these tropes, and, as all things should be, both ideas are used in moderation. In other words: Balance.
Untitled, Fiker Ayalew, 2025 2
Creatures of the Night Favour A. Gbadegesin, 2025 It is a dark and not-quite-stormy night. All is quiet. The wind blows in gentle swirls around a cottage in the woods. At once it stills. Danger is near. “Annnnnnnnd pop quiz time class!” We groan in three part harmony so perfectly timed, we could be a chorus. Chemistry. Sucks. Figures it would be on the one day I wasn’t paying attention in class. “No notes, kids. You all are smart, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Time starts now.” There goes my free time for stories. There’s a soft, tentative knock at the door. Mrs. Halcyon strides over to open it. I’m suddenly uneasy. Don’t open that door. There’s something wrong with whoever’s behind it. But of course, I haven’t spoken aloud, so Mrs. Halcyon does anyways. A strange, easily forgettable, “yeah I think I’ve seen him somewhere” guy walks in. Can’t believe I thought he was trouble. It’s as if as soon as I saw him - no, as soon as I met his eyes - his strangely both piercing and soothing eyes - I knew he just wasn’t a problem. I turn away, and immediately the sense of danger returns. He’s… familiar. I look again, more subtly this time, purposely avoiding his eyes and suddenly… I see. Or rather, feel. He is both stranger and family. He is one of our own. Hair as pale white as wool, unnatural beauty and grace, a lack of human twitching and fidgeting. A relative in the most distant sense possible. Impossible. I hear his voice clearly, as grainy and sharp as salt, while also as sweet and smooth as honey, directly 3
in my mind. Impossible yourself,I shoot back, astonished that we share the gift I had been praised for as a child, a gift that required the utmost focus from even the most advanced being. Who are you? I ask, relishing the mutual conversation through our brains. I could ask the same, he responds, his warm, syrupy voice sending a tingle down my spine. I am the first princess of the Kingdom of Luna, sent to learn the ways of these strange people, and assimilate into their culture. For the first time since we started speaking he seems unnerved, stumbling outwardly in his hushed conversation with Mrs. Halcyon. He turns and glances at me. Do you take me for a fool? Luna has no princesses. I would know. I am its prince. End of chapter 1
Fractals of Kyle, Isabel George, 2022
The Nights You Don’t Recall Aarish Allani, 2022
These nights that you don’t recall Relishing with our friends Rather, you don’t remember; for I look back on it all Here I mourn my innocence Amidst the heartache and chaos I stay in the past and recall; for I think of it all. I see that you forgotten I hark back to those nights The lines in your leaf have faded, while mine remain spaded Those nights accord education Bit by bit I understood Not only did he break the law, he became an outlaw Apols and regrets he pleads Plainly, under the law Finally, I don’t remember; for he recalls it all
Ruth Gabriel, 2022
Seeing the Stars Serene Harris, 2023 I meet her at the ungodly time of 3:26 am. I’m sitting in the observatory, almost asleep when the door below bangs open and loud footsteps pound up the stairs. Much too loud for this hour of the morning. Then the girl they belong to crashes into the room, and she’s loud. She’s bright, and loud, and far too awake for this hour. “Hi! I’m Camellia, most people call me Cammie,” she says in one breath. “I came in here to draw the observatory— it’s such a pretty space—what class are you here for?” Suprise, her voice is loud, too. I’m not really in the mood for a conversation at 3am, but I guess it would be rude to just ignore her. “Advanced Astronomy.” It comes out sounding completely monotone. I’m tired. Sue me. Unfortunately, she brightens even more at that, and her voice gets higher. Louder. “Ooh, do you like the class? I’ve heard the astronomy classes are really hard, but those diagrams you have are really pretty—I might audit the class just for inspiration. Oh! I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” I pick the easiest response: “Jesse.” Her voice becomes a background drone for the next 20 minutes, and by that point, I’ve gone back to working. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact that she gets nothing but disinterested hums in response, but eventually the “conversation” tapers out and she pulls out a canvas and a pencil and sits down on the wall. She keeps to herself the rest of the time, but right as I go to walk through 5
the door, I hear her call out goodbye. I give a non-committal hum and let the door swing shut behind me. I’m not as tired as usual. I guess we’re friends. Either that or she’s totally comfortable sharing her life story with strangers. I don’t know how often she comes to the observatory, but I’ve gotten used to opening the door and seeing her sitting on the floor. I find myself staying longer and longer, talking about whatever I hapen to be working on that day, listening to her talk about her day, her family, what art piece or poem or song she’s creating. She’s an art major from the middle of nowhere Nevada, and she loves the view of the stars from her home there. That comes up a lot. The beauty of the stars, the constellations she learned from her mom, how pretty she the pictures in astronomy are, on and on. I don’t get it, but maybe that’s because my dad’s a physicist. The stars have always come with scientific explanations and data points, and that’s all I really know how to see. “That’s so sad.” The look she gives me has pity written all over it. “I guess? I mean it doesn’t really matter whether I see the sky as pretty or not.” “How can you think that? How can you look at this,” she gestures to the strip of sky we can see through the observatory roof, “and not be amazed?” At my shrug, she frowns for a minute, before, “Hey when is the next time you’re off for a couple of days?” Random, but I don’t really have any-
thing going on anytime soon, so I tell her one my mom taught me.” some dates. She messes around on her She goes on, talking in the same quiphone for a while, and then nods. et voice, pointing out the different con“Meet me here next Friday at noon, stellations and detailing the myths each okay?” one is based on, painting stories across She won’t give me an explanation, the sky. Afterwards, we drive home in but I’ve got nothing better to do, so I silence, the radio a faint hum in the nod, and the background. next thing It’s hard to I know, it’s match up all of Friday, and the names and we’re on the creatures with highway in the textbook her blue, knowledge I beat-up car, have. Stars: the heading away basis of myths, from the city. points of revShe won’t erence, inspiratalk at all, so tion for stories as not to let and art. Stars: anything slip. simple physics, Not that she’s gas and dust, not making hydrogen and noise; she’s helium and nuturned the clear reactions. Star Trails, Sofia Monteiro, 2022 car radio on Not the same and is loudly singing along to pop tunes. thing. When I tell her that, she sets up We drive until the scenery has faded to another trip. farms and hills and the sky is beginning It becomes routine. Once a month to turn an inky blue overhead. Finally, we drive out to some new destination. she pulls over into the middle of a field I’ve seen the sky from mountains, from of grass. She spreads a blanket across the forest clearings, from open fields. Each hood of the car, and insists that I’m not time she has something new to point out, allowed to talk, so I lean back against and little by little, the data weaves itself the windshield and watch the sky shift in with snapshot memories of the sky the for a while. Eventually, I can’t see inway it’s truly meant to be seen. dividual stars anymore, just a blanket At the end of the year, she goes back of dark blues and purples and a million to Nevada to be with her family, and she pinpoints of light all swirled together. sends me pictures of the sky from her Her voice cuts through the stillness, home. I find myself looking up new placdrawing my focus back. She’s unusually es to go, too. Places for the next time we quiet, just barely audible over the sound see each other, or to see on my own, over of crickets and the wind. “You see those the summer, It’s not that the physics of three bright stars there? That’s Orion’s it all has been left behind, but it now belt.” has layers underneath it. The stars are “I know.” numbers, and they’re also stories. Stories “Shh. Just listen. Orion’s the easiest from thousands of years ago, and from constellation for me to see. It’s the first the hood of a blue car.
No Evil, LanAnh Doan, 2024 7
Her Own Prisoner Fiker Ayalew, 2025 A prisoner of her own making, pulled down by chains and slowly breaking. Her hands and lips bound, sanity nowhere to be found. They slowly drag her across the floor; she struggles to escape when they reach the door. She reaches out with her nails to grip the frame but she fails.
She’s dragged, screaming and flailing, to a room, Where the moon is dark, and it’s filled with gloom.
She trembles as a figure steps into view and speaks one word: “you”.
At that, she stops as her body chills with many fears; The figure looms over her and sneers.
It grabs her face and looks into her eyes, reflected back is the girl’s face except with dead eyes.
- her own prisoner
8
Final Reminiscence Usha Umair, 2022
Upon the sun’s descent— Her warmth fleeing with her— I am forsaken in The night’s desolation. Deafening quietude Intensifying the Mares of the wakeful mind ‘Til it is a tempest. The moon—a beguiling Tyrant—surging my mind With the tides at her sway, Trickling out in tears. I look to the stars to Rekindle the sun’s warmth; Though they seem to vanish— Each one, turning to dust. And so, I, too, succumb To the dark of the night.
9
Keeping It Together, MaiAnh Doan, 2024
10
EXCESS Natalia Alvarez-Rodriguez, 2022 With TV shows that portray the lives of the uber-rich like Succession growing in popularity, and Gossip Girl recently getting a revival, more people have become interested in the upper-class lifestyle. We wonder about their struggles and often question how similar to us they are, but more than anything, we wonder about how they spend. Scenes where TV show characters blow through thousands on a night out—overpriced champagne, private planes, yachts, expensive clubs, VIP rooms—have become legendary. Audiences are captivated by their carefree way of spending, but often fail to see the effort that goes into hiding these insane displays of wealth. We are captivated by “whale” spending, a term that people who work in the night life industry use to describe big spenders “who are put at VIP tables opposite each other in the hope that their oversized egos will fuel a spending war” (Forbes). Like the term “whale” suggests, rich people don’t often spend their money from a night out on things they need—they spend their money to puff out their chest and tell other rich people “look at me, look at me, look at how rich I am.” Not only do they engage in spending wars, they use women as currency. They surround themselves with young, tall, thin aspiring models because they want to be seen with them. However, they don’t pay these girls directly for their presence, instead, they pay their promoter. The girls get free entrance into 11
the clubs, free champagne, transport, and accommodation. But the rich don’t do this in broad daylight at runof-themill restaurants where middle-class people are found. They hide under the night: they go abroad to VIP clubs and yacht parties with strict guest lists and high security. Perhaps these upper-class people realize their absurd displays of opulence would anger the people affected by the ever-growing wealth-gap. Perhaps they realize that using young women, champagne bottles, drugs, etc. as currency would infuriate the masses. Perhaps even they know that they have a ridiculous amount of money.
Mat-eye-rial World, Nika Levasova, 2025 12
What Happens in the Night Aly Aadil Salewala, 2023 Nothing happens in the night. The crimson hue of the clouds darkened to a deep violet, before fading to black. The moon shone down on the world, its pale beauty a beacon in the sky, surrounded by a shattering of stars. Benjamin grinned towards his friends, a mischievous glint in his eye. Jill groaned. “I hate that look.” “Oh, come on. You know it’s gonna be fun.” Amusement lightened his tone as glanced over his shoulder, wading through knee high grass. “Wait up,” he called as they climbed upwards, arriving at the crest of the hill. Jill stared silently, on the verge of gawking, “Be…Benjamin, that’s a mansion.” “Yeah, yeah it is,” he grinned. “I told you it would be fun.” “That was a lie. That, right there, is a death sentence.” Jill stared down Benjamin. Mongkut interrupted, gaze fixated on the mansion that they had trekked through the grasslands for. “Maybe we should forget about this and focus more on that. Why are we here? The sun will be up in three hours. What are we even doing?” Benjamin nodded, “Yeah, right. So, the plan is—” “If you’re planning on breaking in and graffiting the place, like the Miller incident, you should know that we forgot to bring any spray paint,” Ken broke in. “Stop interrupting.” Benjamin looked at each of them to make sure they 13
got the memo. “Okay… right. The plan. We’re gonna sneak in. After we’re in, we split up and liberate a few items from this…investor.” Mongkut broke eye contact to examine the mansion once more. “Getting in won’t be easy. There’s a fence that’s probably electrified. On top of that there’s no way they don’t have guards patrolling. If we get past that without a problem, how are we supposed to navigate through that? If we do manage to navigate through and find something, there’s probably cameras, motion detectors, pressure sensors or infrared cameras. Something to set off an alarm. I can probably take it offline for a bit. But that’s only if it’s connected to a wireless interface. Even then, a brute force attack would take a while.” He scratched his chin as he mused. “You have a plan, I assume?” Benjamin grinned an indolent smile. “Obviously.” He gestured at the bag on Mongkut’s back, who set it down. “The man who lives here is filthy rich. As such, he can afford to be a little wasteful with his money. So he buys rare collectables. He also knows that his wealth makes him a target. So what does he do? Any guesses?” He looked around expecting a half-hearted response at least. Crickets chirped. Benjamin rolled his eyes and continued. “He builds a secret escape. But he thinks he’s clever, so he puts it in an irregular place. That’s right, we have a secret passage that leads directly to his personal theater. After that it’s not hard to get to the room where he keeps
it stored. We’ll work a little magic and then leave the same way we came. By dawn, we’ll be long gone.” He glanced quickly down at the watch on his wrist. “The car’s only about… forty minutes from here.” Benjamin opened Mongkut’s bag, tossing aside extraneous things until he found what he was looking for. A thin folder. He pulled it out, flipping open the pages. “Here we go,” he presented proudly to the group. Ken stared blankly at the paper he was showing. “How do you have the house blueprints?” “That’s not the point.” Jill and Ken looked doubtful. “Ten dollars say this is never gonna work.” She looked back at him. “You know what? I’ll take that bet.” Twenty minutes later they stared at a large clump of rocks. “This is it? There’s a secret path through here?” The three heads turned to look at Benjamin. “Ok, there’s probably a latch or a switch around here somewhere. The blueprints wouldn’t lie.” Ken shook his head and walked over to a small portion hidden behind vines. Pushing it aside revealed a metal door that was colored like the surrounding stone. “Wow. We’re hitting every cliche. Come on, man.” Mongkut slipped a sleek laptop from his bag, opening it with his fingerprint. He sat criss-cross on the ground, typing away for several minutes before finally looking up and giving them a nod. The group quietly proceeded inwards as the doors slid open smoothly. Benjamin gestured for Jill to take the lead. As the smallest of the four in both height and build, she was the best at sneaking and avoiding detection. If things became nasty, Jill had a four-inch knife tucked into her boot. Ken followed behind her, muscle that would be useful
in a fight if things went south. Mongkut and Benjamin followed last, Mongkut holding his laptop in his hand, folding the keyboard back to make it into a tablet. Mongkut slowed as they walked, clutching Benjamin’s arm to slow him as well. “We have a problem,” he whispered. Benjamin, who had a moment earlier been focused on Ken and Jill as they moved ahead of him, stopped in his tracks to face Mongkut. “What?” His voice, normally laid back and playful, had turned stone cold. “Do they know we’re here? Is this a trap?” With each word, his tone became harsher. Mongkut took a step back to put space between the two of them. “Not yet. But when they wake up and see the missing things, they’re gonna know exactly who we are. You, me, him, her. All of us.” “How?” Benjamin’s eyes had narrowed, appearing as those of a calculating snake. Anyone who took this man lightly would suffer extreme consequences. “There were security cameras.” Shame filled Mongkut’s voice. “They recorded just about everything before I got into the system. I didn’t notice them because they weren’t hooked up to the mainframe. I’ve been trying to find them in the central security system, but the storage isn’t connected.” Benjamin took a slow breath, running his hands through his hair. “So tell it to me straight. Is there a way to fix this?” Mongkut nodded slowly. “It’s risky, so I won’t be able to do it alone.” Benjamin frowned in confusion. “The security cameras are in the system, so I disabled them. Right now, they’re running a loop of last night. The weather was basically the same, so they won’t notice anything. The part that they have on us… that’s the main issue. To get that, we have to 14
go into the server room and find the hard drive that it’s saved on. I can rewrite the timestamp if we can get there, or we can just pinch it and run.” Benjamin paused for a moment. “Where’s the server room? Is it close?” Mongkut shrugged. “I don’t know where it is. Somewhere in the building I think.” Benjamin glanced over his shoulder towards Jill and Ken, both of whom had stopped walking and were instead listening to the exchange behind them. They hurried back. “What’s wrong?” Jill asked as soon as she arrived. “Are we aborting?” “We can’t.” Benjamin filled them in on the situation. “We’re changing the plan just a tad bit.” He unzipped Mongkut’s bag and pulled out several items. He handed Jill a map, with a layout of the mansion. “The X is the item we’re taking. Get that first. If you want to snag anything else, do it after.” Jill and Ken nodded. “Mongkut and I are going to find the tapes and redact some classified information.” Benjamin grinned at the three of them. “This should be easy. Nothing like the Miller incident.” Ken groaned. “Don’t even start. You almost fed us rat poison thinking it was flour. They had different shades. Idiot.” Jill rushed down the hallway. All empty. There should have been a guard walking around, but apparently they were all restricted to the outside of the manor. Convenient. Ken huffed along beside her, the bookbag on his back. Jill glanced down at the map, making a turn to rush up a flight of stairs, then down a hallway. At last, she had arrived at the place where the precious item, as Benjamin had put it, was being kept. In the dead center of the room, a large room with only an endless white expanse, save for 15
the center. There, a large ruby sat, alone. Jill glanced around. It was too easy. Ken apparently disagreed. He stepped forward to take it, but was quickly stopped when Jill slammed her fist into his gut, driving the air from his lungs. “Mongkut mentioned pressure sensors. Those tiles are probably equipped with them,” she snapped. Jill opened the bag on Ken’s back, finding a few things that were a staple for thieves. Gloves, ropes, suction cups… did Benjamin think they were scaling the outside of a skyscraper? The most important thing, however, was a false ruby that would disguise their theft. Ken pulled out a small container filled with a strange powder inside. He twisted it open, and took a deep whiff, only to proceed to coughing a moment later. His explosive coughs blew the powder into the room. Instantly, lines became visible in the powder. “Well, it just got a bit more complicated.” Benjamin rushed down the hall, Mongkut hot on his heels. If someone wanted to keep a record, they would keep it in the hardest place to access. The basement. Luckily, with no interference from guards, they made it down the stairs quickly and turned into a corridor that held multiple rooms. Not a single door was labeled. “This is going to be a pain.” Benjamin cracked a knuckle. “Let’s get started shall we?” Mongkut glanced down at his watch, “We’ve got about an hour till sun-up to check this place. We better hurry. I’ll take the ones on the left, you handle the ones on the right. If you see any kind of servers or hard drives, call me.” Benjamin nodded. The two split up. Benjamin opened the door and stepped in. A triumphant grin spread across his face, “Hey, Mongkut! You’re gonna wanna see this.”
Jill rolled her wrist, hearing a squelch. She raised her hand and applied the suction cup to the pillar, using it to drag her upwards. Using her feet as braces helped boost the speed with which she climbed. The rope was wound around her waist, trailing down to the ground below. After applying the powder in copious amounts, this was the only accessible way to get to the gem. In a handkerchief, the false ruby was tied to her belt. Nimbly, she made her way to the roof without any trouble. This was where the fun began. Jill unwound the rope from around her waist, and slipped it through the handhold of the suction cup and firmly planted it onto the ceiling, before rewinding the rope. Using one hand and her mouth, pulled a roll of duct tape from her belt and tore off a strip. There wasn’t a problem in the world that duct tape couldn’t fix. If it wasn’t working, there wasn’t enough duct tape. She quickly attached a copious amount around the cup. She also wound it around her empty hand before replacing it using her fingers. She used her remaining suction cup and tape to move to the center of the room, swinging as she went. The lasers were far closer to the ruby and the ground than to the ceiling. She did the same process as before, attaching the cup, slipping the rope through, and then adding duct tape and tying the rope around her hips. Ken met her gaze across the room. He pulled the rope taut, before slowly lowering Jill down as she clutched the rope tightly. She used her duct tapefree hand to pull the false ruby out, stretching out her duct tape-bound hand towards the real one. It made contact with the ruby, and in an Indiana Jones inspired move, she swapped both rubies. No alarms went off. No sirens sounded. That was unlike the movies. They were in the clear. Ken pulled the rope, raising her, and she quickly undid the seal on the first
suction cup before making her way to the second one and then descending. “We are never doing this again.” “Agreed.” Mongkut sat in front of the drive, plugged into the server. His computer slowly overwrote the recording that had previously been there. Benjamin paced anxiously. “Less than ten minutes till sun-up. How much longer?” “And… we’re done! I’ve added some video so it won’t see us leaving either.” The two grinned at each other. They quickly hid the exposed wires and rushed out, closing all the doors behind them. Retracing their steps, they found Jill and Ken waiting at the path they had used as an entry. A few clicks on his computer and Mongkut had the door open. Ken handed Jill ten bucks. A few minutes later they walked away from the mansion. “He’ll never know about this.” The sun rose, painting the clouds a vivid scarlet. It shone down on the world, illuminating and blazing with its immeasurable glory, revealing all falsehoods in the world. Yet, it showed nothing of the deception that had occurred the night before. After all, nothing happens in the night. The End
Mental.exe, Jayden Nguyen, 2025
Tomorrow Adaeze Uzoije, 2022 She walked into the old bench, just as she always did. Today felt exactly like yesterday and the day before, when she said she wouldn’t be back here again, when she said that everything would fix itself, when she said things would be better. But today was different. But no matter how different today was, He was waiting. He always was. A dark figure with only a cow skull for any semblance of a head—she never knew how she identified it, she just inherently knew it was a cow skull—who did not have a name. He couldn’t be named. Once He was named, there would be no going back. She had to get rid of Him. It had been several years since He has lived in her mind. But today was different. Somehow. She sat on the bench next to Him, moving away in the slightest when she felt that they were sitting too close. When she first saw Him, she believed herself to be stuck in a nightmare, a bad experience with psychosis, anything to explain the realness with which she could feel His breath and hear His voice and see His nonexistent eyes. But now He was—well, He wasn’t human—but He wasn’t inhumane either. Strange, but not scary. “People are just scared of the unfamiliar.” He stopped talking. The night sky twinkled, as it always had. Everything was always so beautiful. She wanted to, one day, just sit in her mind and see the stars for what they were—a blessing, a 17
wonderful reason to look forward to this time. But she couldn’t. He continued. “…do you think they’ll ever forgive you?” “What?” “The people you hurt in your anger. And your sadness, and your pain, and your fear, and everything else you failed to hide.” “…stop talking.” He continued. “You’re afraid. Afraid of the dark, and afraid of everything that hides in it. And I’m sorry for that, but I’m not the person keeping me here. You need to stand up and see that for yourself—“ “Shut up—“ “YOU need to do something about this, not me.” He tore her apart piece by piece. Everything broken about her was in the air, fragmented into the stars, and her tears were making all of her flaws seem bigger than they were. It was a lot. It was too much. By now He would leave. By now she’d wake up, tears in her eyes, and she’d fail yet another night. By now she’d give up. But today was different. “…you’re right.” “Yes, I am.” “But I AM doing better. Every day, every piece of me is doing better, no matter how broken,” she cried through cracked sobs. “Every day I do better, even when I’m scared to.” For the first time in a long time, she looked at Him as she spoke. He was always staring at her, but she would typically avoid His eyes—
they always made her cry harder. “But even if I am alone, I don’t need you to tell me this. It’s over. You need to leave.” He paused, before leaning into her direction. Her breath quickened and she felt her face grow red and green at the same time, trying and failing to keep her composure. “What if I say no? Hm? What will you do then?” “I want today to be different.” “You said that yesterday.” “I meant that yesterday. And the day before yesterday. I’ve meant that every single day since I’ve met you. I just didn’t know how to make a difference.” She stood up from the bench. “But now I do. “Goodbye, Sir. I hope we never meet again.” “You know you’ll see me tomorrow.” “Then I hope we never meet again sometime soon. Now goodbye. I will decide when I wake up today.” She walked away as she spoke to Him for the last time that night. She turned back to Him. “You’ll never hurt me again.” The alarm got louder, and louder, and louder, until the blade overwhelmed her pocket dimension of space, and everything collapsed on itself like it did every night. She woke up from her nightly dream, as disoriented as always and keen to turn off her alarm as fast as
possible. She sat up and looked at the time, though she didn’t feel any different for better or for worse. She felt the same. It always felt the same. But she knew that things had changed from that dream. Every dream was a bit different, and every day she got better. One day she’d be rid of Him. She was closer, she could feel it, and He would never be seen again. At least, not for a long time. Even one night without Him would be proof of success.
Discarded, Serene Harris, 2023
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Little Frost Flower Ruth Gabriel, 2022 Oh little frost flower No one can see your true power So strong yet victim to morning showers Oh little frost flower Against the sun you stand no chance But through the night you let your beauty enhance Oh little frost flower Am I the only one that knows How beautiful you are when you grow Oh little frost flower Sometimes I look and see How your fragile crystals are a reflection of me
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Untitled, Ruth Gabriel, 2022
Purple Irises Helen Nguyen, 2022 Stone by stone, flower by flower, I walked through endless rows of metal plates and large stones until I finally found the one. Kneeling in the grass, I stared in front of me. A name, same as my own, was etched into the smooth headstone and stared back. The cold wind whistled through the air, blowing dust and leaves all about the cemetery. I wiped the debris off the stone and laid the flowers I brought down in front of me. Purple irises. Wiping the tears off my face, I whispered with a short sigh, “Hello again. It’s been a long time.” A comforting silence followed for a few seconds. The heavy gray clouds ran across the sky above me. The wind picked up, blowing stronger. The temperature dropped even lower without the presence of the sun, yet I felt warm sitting here. A warmth I
Iris, Helen Nguyen, 2022
could only feel when sitting here. Here, in a quiet cemetery, was the only place I could find comfort. The only place I could clear my thoughts and take a breath. The only place my family would never think to find me. “I wanted to see you again. For good luck. For comfort,” I cried softly, staring down at my trembling hands. “I miss you.” “I’m sure she misses you too,” came a voice from behind me. I abruptly stood up, dusting off my legs and wiping my tears. I took a few steps away from the voice, looking up at the sky to halt my tears. Turning to the vaguely familiar voice, I saw my cousin. We hadn’t seen each other in years. His family stopped coming over to my house after the funeral and my parents stopped inviting them to family events. I never understood what happened, but because of it, I haven’t seen or spoken to any of them since. He looks different, happier. His eyes glow the same as they did in our youth. Maybe brighter. The wrinkles around his eyes are more prominent than before. Life must’ve been treating him well. Wish I could say the same. “What are you doing here?” I stepped back as he stepped closer, crossing my arms in an attempt to keep the warmth I felt seconds ago. Just wanted a second quiet. “She was my grandma too. I’m allowed to be here,” he replied almost defensively, like my presence was a burden to him. He knelt down, his shadow cast20
ing over the head“Um… thanks.” Untitled, Annalee Fink, 2023 stone, covering the I really meant it, name. He looked but that didn’t down at my flowtranslate through ers, sniffled a bit, my monotone and picked them up mutter. I don’t think to examine them anyone ever told me closer. Great. He’s that. Reassurance going to critique my feels nice. I stood in choice of flower. I thought, staring at should just leave. my hands while I “These were her fidgeted. I couldn’t favorites. My dad bring myself to always buys these look at him again. for her birthday.” There was a mo“My dad always ment of silence bought them for my birthday. They’re before he spoke up again. my favorite flowers,” I spoke softly, “No problem! Look, I don’t mean to kicking the ground beneath my feet. Of drive you away. You can stay longer, but course he doesn’t remember. It’s been years try not to stay for too long. It’s getting since we’ve seen each other. dark and your sister’s looking for you,” “For both of your birthdays. You two he smiled softly. Is that why he’s here? He were always so similar, so close. Same came to find me? name and everything,” he laughed softly “Take care of yourself, superstar! and looked up at me. Still crouched over Hopefully I’ll see you again soon,” he the grave, he asked, “What about you? called out as he started walking back the What are you doing here?” way he came. “5 years is too long!” It’s “I just… I wanted… It’s not importbeen 5 years already? ant,” I stuttered. My arms fell to my “Thanks. You too,” I spoke too softly sides, the warmth was already gone. I for him to hear from where he was now. I turned around, starting my way back forgot he used to call me superstar. I forgot towards my car. I wanted to tell him. Tell a lot of things about him. “I’ll miss you.” someone. Just needed to get out of that Warmth washed over my body as house… Just a second of silence. I watched him walk away. The clouds “You’ll get in, you know,” he called had cleared up during our conversation after me. I froze. He knows? “Our parleaving the sky covered in dark streaks ents might not talk anymore, but your of blue, purple, and orange. I should’ve sister and I are still pretty close. She told stopped him and talked for longer, but by me.” Of course. I turned around slowly the time I made up my mind, he and the and met his figure standing upright smil- sun left me alone. ing at me. My eyes filled with tears again as I He shoved his hands into his jackknelt back down in front of my grandet pockets and took a few steps closer. ma’s grave. I picked up the flowers one “You’re a smart kid. You don’t need to be more time and hugged them close to my worried. Any college would be lucky to chest. The warmth of the sunlight faded, have you on their campus,” he tried to yet I felt warmer than before. reassure me. 21
Bonaventure, Gianna Spaulding, 2022
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Jochebed Aamna Rehman, 2023 Untitled, NhuMai Vu, 2022
There was a fish in the moon that swam in the skies,c Over the rocks and stars, ‘round Venus and Neptune,c It would swim towards a girl who sang lullabiesc To lull the child in her arms with a gentle croon,i The fish watched the girl lay the child into the night, c And give him a push, give him away to the stars, c It couldn’t tell if it was the child or girl’s cry c As he drifted through the black and broken sky far, c The fish swam through the horizon and it turned back, c To see the girl fade into a forever mist, c It followed the child through stars and between a crack c In the moon where it lived and gave the child a kiss, c
aaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I will watch over you, told the fish to the child, c And keep you safe as you swim through the River Nile. c
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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Fishing Day, Rebekah Shin, 2023
Silence Nate Belai, 2022 life is not fair but a man will make most of it a man will work hard and never give up; and when the struggles become so rough you can only suffer in silence. the tribulations become so unbearable that your head throbs in pain until the pain makes you feel numb the man thing to do is work through it: just suffer in silence. pain so tough it makes you want to weep for mercy yell earth-shattering cries until your throat’s agony makes you mute either way, you must suffer in silence. you tell yourself do not be emotionless allow yourself to let it out to cry... but only when no one is around go to your room and suffer in silence. around your friends, you are the pinnacle of happiness the role model of optimism yet, while the river of tears flow down your cheeks at night help others like a real man and soothe your suffering in silence. drink the black, bitter coffee from the
mug of one of your dream colleges let your brain be sick of how little you take care of yourself in order to be enough who knows if the aching nights of studying will be worth it? if not, cry yourself to sleep groan your troubles to the unbothered moon your weary heart is only heard by the silence. do not tell anyone else no one wants to hear a grown man complain they will become annoyed or they will pity your poor soul their consideration seems condescending their patience makes you feel pathetic their soothing words like inhaled soot hey, are you talking to yourself? no, i am pouring to the silence. so many unanswered questions: how long will it last? when will i be okay? why me? your suffering answers, only it cannot speak you must listen to it in silence.
The Thinkerer, Kaif Ridwan, 2025
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Solace by Sunrise Lauren Shinn, 2022 All Marya heard around these hours were children’s tearfull farewells resounding clearly through her hospice room, almost as if mocking her obvious lack of visitors. She let out a labored breath, the simple task clearly taking its toll, as she rose from her bed and pulled apart the curtains covering the windows. She never had a particular fondness of nature, but anything that pulled her attention away from the loving farewells coming from her surrounding rooms was a pleasant choice. Gradually, as the sun’s rays warmed her room, Marya climbed back into her bed and allowed them to lull her weakened body asleep. Marya dreamt. She watched herself as if peering through a blurred window. She was nearing the end of her youth, evident with faint lines framing her eyes as she cradled Audrey in her nursery. Anyone would have believed it to be an endearing memory that marked the exciting new phase of motherhood. But Marya knew better. All mothers felt an unconditional, overpowering love for their children—or at least they were supposed to. Since giving birth, Marya had harbored an ever-growing sense of guilt deep in her chest, where she felt it wringing at her heart and mind with each passing day. For the longest time, all Marya had yearned for was a stable life and a family—she got what she wanted, didn’t she? Except the reality was that she knew she was a failure of a mother who could not even feel any true connection to her child. She watched her younger self knowing that the ominous sense of hopelessness had settled back into her chest and was there to stay. She woke. She swept away her hair 25
and tried to wipe the grogginess from her eyes. It was well into the night: the pale moon was perched high in the pitch-black sky, illuminating the courtyard with the help of a few sparse streetlamps. Marya’s chest was rapidly rising and falling, accompanied with the quiet gasps of an attempt to stifle crying. Too many memories, too much regret, too much of everything all at once. She knew she couldn’t bear this much longer. She needed change. Instead of retreating back to sleep, Marya propped herself up on her shoulders and rested her back against her pillows in an upright position. With an iron-willed determination, she shut her eyes and conjured a buried memory. It was a stagnant and tepid night the last time she spoke to Audrey. Marya didn’t know why Audrey had insisted on taking a walk at this hour, especially in this feverish weather. Maybe because she would be leaving tomorrow morning for her first year at university. Marya sighed, annoyed, as Audrey rambled on about something wildy insignificant. Suddenly, she asked a question that Marya didn’t know the answer to. She paused, lost in thought, before giving a simple dismissive “mhm” and continuing onwards. “What do you mean? I asked you what you thought.” Marya remembered wanting to groan. The humid air hung low around them, stifling any passing breezes and leaving the two drenched in their own sweat. The hot air was uncomfortable. Irritating. Suffocating. “Well I don’t know dear,” she replied. She didn’t feel like engaging in conversation with her daughter. She decided to
Overpass at Sunset, Kacy Woodring, 2023 tell the truth. “I wasn’t paying attention because I didn’t feel like it was very important.” Audrey halted, an expression of hurt bewilderment on her face. “What?” “You heard me. All you do is complain and complain. I’m tired of listening to you, you spoiled girl.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You do. You complain about moving away, going to some college that no one’s ever heard about or cared about. Is that my fault?” Marya snapped. “No. It was yours. You had one job, and it was securing your future. You couldn’t even do that.” Audrey still hadn’t moved from where she stopped, her face flushed a deep red. Enraged, Marya found that she couldn’t stop herself. “You have been nothing but the source of my disappointment since you were born. You’re the most ungrateful, wasteful, brat I’ve met.” Audrey let out a loud, humorless laugh. “You’re just so miserable to be around! You’re never proud of me, you never encourage me, you never do anything. I hate you.” Marya stared hard into her eyes and retaliated bitterly. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you.” “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I always wished to have a child, but you really were the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Audrey didn’t say anything. She only looked at Marya for a few moments before wiping the tears from her cheeks and turning around to walk home. Marya trailed her a few paces back in silence, feeling as if she should apologize, but remaining quiet. She remembered watching Audrey leave before dawn from the kitchen window, with the only goodbye between them being a long look of unspoken words. That was the last gaze they shared. Marya returned to the present. In the dim light of her room, she reached for a pen and paper from inside her nightstand and began writing diligently, with great focus and intent. She remained there as the hours passed and night slipped away, her pen filling page after page. Finally, Marya’s work was complete. She folded the sheets of paper together, tucked them into an envelope, and scrawled Audrey’s last known address. Her life was full of regret. But she hoped that this could mend what she had ruined so many years ago. At last, Marya smiled and breathed for a final time as the sky’s inky navy and indigo streaks blended into the golden sunrise. 26
The Sacrifice and The Saint Micah Xu, 2023 Scene starts with two characters, Tenebri and Diala, standing across from each other while a full moon dotted with shimmering stars paint the night sky behind them. They stand in a field of daisies, some of which are stained red. Diala is on her knees, staring towards the ground and grasping at the flowers. Tenebri takes a step forward. Diala (strained): “Leave, shadow. Tarry no longer, and begone from this place. I wish to be left alone.” Tenebri: “I know you wish to, but I simply cannot stand idly by and allow you to destroy your life like this—” Diala cuts him off. Diala (angry): “What life, shadow? You follow me around like a stray dog and talk to me as if you know what I did. Oh, the crimes I have committed and the souls I have condemned. You would know nothing of it!” Tenebri pauses for a second, sits down, and sighs. Tenebri: “The life you have so easily forgotten, soldier. The life with flowers and family and-” Diala cuts him off again. Diala (sobbing): “Family? What family? My father ran from me and my mother is dead, slain by the hands of—of that thing. Tenebri: “I cannot say I entirely understand that feeling.” Diala: “Correct, shadow, you cannot.” Tenebri: “That being said, I can understand the feelings of a murderer. A heinous monster who-” 27
Both: “destroys every enemy, conquers every kingdom, kills every man, woman, or child who dares cross our bloody path.” Tenebri (shocked): “You read my mind, did-” Diala cuts him off. Diala: “Yes, it’s what I was made for.” Tenebri: “What if—” Tenebri pauses for some time, before starting back up. Tenebri: “What if I told you that I did the same, once upon a time? Would you believe me, soldier?” Diala is silent for a moment, closing her eyes for a split second before opening them again and staring at the ground. Diala (quietly): “Yes, you speak as if you know. The feeling when you kill is unmistakable, a combination of fear and wild satisfaction. Your thoughts are as clear to me as words written on parchment.“ Tenebri: “If you believe me, then take my word that if you do not escape this now, you never will.” Diala (scoffing): “As if a monster should listen to another monster.” Tenebri: “Yes, because only we can understand each other.”
Diala looks Scene startsup, with holding two characters, herself, before Tenebri and Diala, looking back standing down. across from each other while Diala (quiet): a full “B-but moonI dotted can’t. Iwith can’t shimdo mering stars paint the night sky behind it.” them. They Tenebri (softly): stand “Now in a field do of you daisies, under-some of which stand why areI am stained following red. Diala you?isWhy on her I knees,gone have staring through towards trial theafter ground trialand just to grasping look uponatyour the flowers. face and have my words reach your ears?” There a longa pause, and Diala turns to Tenebriis takes step forward. Dialaat(strained): look Tenebri, her“Leave, strange, shadow. blackened Tarry no longer, eyes leaking and fresh begone tearsfrom onto this the soil place. below. I wish to Diala (softly): be left alone.” “I can’t. I’m too far gone, Tenebri: “I know you wish to, but I simI—” ply cannot Tenebri cutsstand her offidly andby takes andaallow step foryou to destroy your life like this ward. Diala cuts Tenebri (hissing): him off. “You aren’t gone until Dialachoose you (angry): to be. “What In the life, end, shadow? this is You followdecision your me around and like youra life. stray I beg dogof and you, talk toconsider please me as if you what know I have what said.” I did. Oh, the Diala (sobbing): crimes I have “Theycommitted won’t let me andgo, the soulsThey shadow. I have won’t condemned. let me beYou free.” would know nothing Tenebri (softly): of “Then it!” prove yourself Tenebri to them.pauses Allowfor them a second, to watch sitsas down, you and sighs. grow into something other than a soldier, Tenebri: “The life you have so easily forDiala.” gotten, takes Tenebri soldier. another The life step with forward. flowers and family “I-I Diala: and-” can’t break out of it alone. I Diala cuts him off again. just—can’t!” Diala (sobbing): holds her face “Family? in her hands, Whatcovering family? My eyes her father from ranview. from me and my mother is dead, reaches Tenebri slain byout thetohands Dialaof—of and gently that thing.his hand. offers Tenebri: “Then “I cannot let say me help I entirely you make understandchoice.” that that feeling.” Diala:quivers Diala “Correct, forshadow, a moment, youletting cannot.” out a Tenebri: few heavy “That breaths, being before said,taking I can unhis hand derstand in her own. the feelings of a murderer. A heinous monster who-” Both: “destroys every enemy, conquers every kingdom, kills every man, woman, or child who dares cross our bloody path.” Tenebri: “What if—” Tenebri pauses for some time, before starting back up. Tenebri: “What if I told you that I did the same, once upon a time? Would you
believe me, soldier?” Diala is silent for a moment, closing her eyes for a split second before opening them again and staring at the ground. Diala (quietly): “Yes, you speak as if you know. The feeling when you kill is unmistakable, a combination of fear and wild satisfaction. Your thoughts are as clear to me as words written on parchment.`` Tenebri: “If you believe me, then take my word that if you do not escape this now, you never will.” Diala (scoffing): “As if a monster should listen to another monster.” Tenebri: “Yes, because only we can understand each other.”
Creatures of the Night 2, Alexandra Ly, 2022
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Luna Ruth Gabriel, 2022 Luna watched him from afar. Everyday she observed as a little boy would run to the highest hill and talk to the moon. Sometimes she watched as the boy would cry so hard that his whole body would shake, at times he would come and laugh with the moon and other days he would just come and lay down on the grass and gaze at the moon. Luna marveled at the boy and his range of emotions. Never questioning why he come to the same spot at the same time every night. Luna watched in silence and enjoyed his presence because it made her feel less alone in the dark night. Luna was grateful to the boy because he was her only friend, though he wasn’t aware of it. For years the boy continued to come to the same spot and Luna waited patiently behind her tree for him. One day the boy came to his spot on the hill with a different look on his face, one that Luna had never seen before, he no longer held a carefree and joyous expression, this time as he stared at the moon his lips were turned down and his eyes were sullen with a hint of longing within them. As he took his place on the hill all the boy did was lay on the grass and sigh. Luna felt the need to approach him and comfort him. Luna began to peak out from behind her tree, and take small steps towards to the boy who was unaware of her existence. The closer she got to him Luna began to hear small sniffles. Though she had witnessed him cry before, his small sniffles reminded her of when he was a small child and it made her run to him like a mother would run 29
to her crying newborn. Luna reaches the boy out of breath “A- are you o- okay?” She stutters partially out of nervousness. The boy quickly gets up, startled by Luna’s sudden presence but not surprised by Luna’s existence. The boy rises from his spot on the grass and meets Luna’s eyes for the first time. “ I’m glad you finally came out.” Luna had no response to give him. She just continued to stare at him. The boy laughed softly to himself, finding Luna’s lack of response quite charming. He lays his hand gently on her shoulder “ Come sit with me over there.” Luna, still speechless, just nods her head and follows the boy. Once they were settled on the grass the boy asked Luna “ You have spent so much time hiding why did you come out now?” Luna finally collects her scattered mind and replies “ I noticed that you looked different from the past and I wanted to see if you were okay. How did you know I’ve been here? Why didn’t you let me know you could see me?” The boy sits silently again before replying “ I saw you but I didn’t want to scare you so I let you be.” “Oh - “ is all Luna said before it became quiet. Noticing Luna playing with her hands the boy started up a new conversation, “ How long have you been here? I’m sure you must have a family or a home to go to.” Luna contemplated telling this boy about how she is not the same as him.
She had no family and no home. She looked at the boy hoping to come up with a believable answer but failing to do so. “ I have no family or home.” She said bluntly. The boy looks at her with pity “ So you are an orphan?” Luna looks forward “ If an orphan is what you call it then yes I am an orphan. Do you have a name I can call you by?” The boy replied quickly this time “ Gabriel.You?” “Luna” she says back. “ Luna….” He repeated out loud. Gabriel gets up from his place on the grass and reaches his hand out to Luna. “ Would you like to go on an adventure with me Ms. Luna?” Luna nodded her head and followed Gabriel into their adventurous night. Gabriel took Luna to a plain field. Luna looked at Gabriel questioning him as to why he would take her here. “Just wait.” Gabriel says as he runs through the field with his hands out to brush the grass as he went by. Suddenly to Luna’s surprise there were little lights floating all around. “ How did you get all these stars to come down?” Luna asked. “ Those are not stars. They are fireflies” Gabriel said amused not understanding how someone could not know what a firefly is. “ Try and catch one.” Gabriel suggests. With no other questions Luna ran to catch the fireflies.Gabriel watched Luna run and play, he stared at her in awe. Unlike the girls Gabriel was used to Luna was like a breath of fresh air to him. He watches as Luna continues to fumble on her feet , he laughed at she tried to regain her balance. Luna who was now stable on both her feet was pleased to see Gabriel’s bright smile. And like that the two spent the rest of their night laughing
and keeping each other company until they both fell asleep on the soft grass. The morning came and Gabriel had woken up only to see Luna had vanished. Assuming she has other business to attend to he got up and made his way home. That same night Gabriel returned to see Luna again, but this time she was not on the hill. Panicked Gabriel searched the surrounding areas only to find her in the grass field from the night before, playing with the fireflies. Luna feeling the presence of Gabriel turns around. “ I see you have found me. There is-“ “ Why did you leave without a goodbye? “ Gabriel interrupted her. “ I did not know that I would be gone in the morning.” Luna replied back quietly. “ What do you mean? Did you not get up and go yourself?” Gabriel asked a little agitated. “ I think it has to do with the moon. Gabriel, I am not like you.” Gabriel, not wanting to hear her excuses, just nods his head and goes into the field. Luna felt a little discouraged with Gabriel’s response. He did not believe her and she knew it. But she chose to enjoy the time she had left with him ignoring the small signs that showed that her time in this world was coming to a close. Days turned into months, then months into years and Luna was always found in the same spot every night waiting for Gabriel to come to her. One night Gabriel had decided to propose to Luna, he wanted to be closer to her through his day and not have to wait till twilight to go find her. With anticipation he approaches Luna from behind and gives her a hug. Luna turned her body and smiled at Gabriel. Luna’s smile was as bright as the stars and never
Fireflies for Stars, Ruth Gabriel, 2022
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failed to take Gabriel’s breath away. Reassured of his decision he takes Luna’s hand in his. “ Luna, I would like to ask you something.” Luna already knowing where this was going was hesitant to let him continue but did anyway. She nods her head to tell him to continue. Gabriel takes a deep breath in and begins. “ Luna, I want you to come home with me. I want to see you in the morning instead of waiting for the night. I want to see the world with you in the bright of day and not in the dark night.” “ Gabriel I-“ Luna says about to turn down his offer knowing it was impossible for her to join him. But right before she finishes her sentence she looked at Gabriel’s face that was filled with hope, his eyes were gleaming and he had a broad smile across his face. Not wanting to see him sad Luna replies with a sigh “ I- will go with you. But not tonight. I will need time to collect my things tomorrow I will go with you.” Gabriel, ecstatic with her response, hugs Luna so hard that her ribs may have broken if it was any tighter. Luna was glad that she could make him happy one last time. She knew that tomorrow his smile would be replaced with a frown and tears would be falling down his face. For now Luna would enjoy her last night with him and leave him with only pleasant memories that can hopefully follow him to the end of time. Luna took Gabriel to the grass field and ran through the grass like Gabriel had done when they had first come. And just like last time the fireflies began to arise. The fireflies lit up the field and danced around Luna and Gabriel. Gabriel walks up to Luna who was now in the middle of the field with her hand stretched out to play with the fireflies. “Why do you keep coming here?” he asked. 31
“These fireflies are like you and I. Though you know they exist you can only see them in the night.” “ You mean they WERE like us. We won’t be like these bugs tomorrow.” Gabriel says with confidence. “ Yes. Tomorrow.” Luna says quietly. That night Luna walked into the woods after one last glance at Gabriel before disappearing deep into the forest from which she came from. The next evening Gabriel returned to the hills to bring Luna home only to find her not there. He checked the fields and the forest with desperation. He began to feel a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew Luna wasn’t there anymore. As tears begin to fall down his face he looks to the moon and screamed. His scream echoed through the kingdom and the sky replicated his emotion with a clap of thunder. Luna watched him again this time from the moon. She watched as Gabriel screamed and cried. She wished could go back down and hold him again but she knew it was impossible. “You will only roam in the night. If love may find it will bring you deep heartache and strife for in your happiest moment you will be stripped away from this world with no trace. This is your punishment for the pain you inflicted onto the innocent.” The curse echoed in her head. The pain in her heart was like a knife heated by the sun had seared through her. She watched as Gabriel would come back every night waiting for her and crying when she did not come by the morning. She witnessed as his face became pale and he became skinnier. She wanted to
tell him to stop, to go and be happy with a new person, someone who could be there day and night for him. But no matter how hard she tried she
could not escape the shackles that
tied her to the moon. Like that she remained helpless, watching her love kill himself with grief. Years had gone by and Luna was still prominent in Gabriel’s mind, there was not a night where he did not go back to the field, or stare aimlessly at the moon when he was away, praying that Luna would make an appearance once again. He never lost hope for Luna’s return and waited patiently everyday. One night Gabriel had went to the field again but instead of staring at the field he went into the field and stretched his arms out to move the grass, and make the fireflies come out. the fireflies came up and lit up the sky like they did in the past, and Gabriel are led at their beauty and closed his and wished again that Luna would be there behind him. Once he opened his eyes there was darkness. The fireflies had disappeared and Gabriel could not see anything. From the darkness around him came a voice. “Gabriel, I see you have found me again.” Gabriel stood in shock not believing the voice he was hearing he was certain that it was a hallucination like he had many times before. But still he turns around to the voice and looked at the glowing figure in front of him in complete awe. Gabriel left with no words all Gabriel was able to say was, “ Luna.”
The Prince, Ruth Gabriel, 2022
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Heart Plant, Catalina Camacho Rondon, 2024
Hanahaki Nina Johnson, 2023 There are flowers in my lungs… they make my breath so so sweet. The petals on my tongue they make it hard to breathe There are flowers in my lungs because I love them so. I cough up blood yet my love only grows, But so do the blooms That block my winds. The faded red hues stained from the blood of my sins. From waiting, lingering for the “right” time to arise. But it never came, so I am left only to pine There are flowers in my lungs. It’s time I say goodbye. My head is low hung, but my hopes were mighty high Precious blooms, oh how they grew Like my love, I could not subdue They grew thorns and they grew spines if I were wiser, you’d be mine There are flowers in my heart, there are flowers in my throat the world is going dark I think it’s time I croak Although it’s unrequited, my love never roams For my love’s now sealed within the cosmos
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Excerpt of Unknown History Ally Cocar, 2022 …And the ending of hell and earth, while a decision in the making for several millennia, came upon the common living creature and hellish being in a matter of moments, as remembered by one demon who witnessed the Finale. Merely known as one “Zazel,” the Ending of All was witnessed as a destruction and rebellion within hell, and then the overturning of all by the humans, as demons fled and wound up standing on earth in its final moments, before all was destroyed. Here, for manner of ease, is Zazel’s final recollected moments: “Zazel trekked through the rough terrain, the air seemingly full of grit and dirt from some horrific sandstorm. But it was not a sandstorm, nor any other semi-naturally occurring disaster. It was
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the remnants of one of the Towers, still falling from that great height, crumbling top to bottom. Zazel remembered the towers, sturdy structures, thicker than anything on Earth, standing tall above everything else. Now, the dust filled his skull and became grit between his teeth. As he loped through the dust, however, Zazel felt himself be moved, tugged towards some unknown destination by some unknown force, away from the very ground he stood on. He fell, roughly, stumbling and falling to his knees. Shaking himself, he looked at the thing he had landed on. Rather than the rough gravel, tough sand, or prickly undergrowth of the typical landscape of Hell, he had come to rest on soft dirt. His hand outstretched towards a tuft of something even softer, a pale, brilliant green. Grass, he remembered, wiggling his sickly fingers in between the leaves of the lush plant. A great murmuring began around him, and Zazel looked around. Demons, the same ones he had always known, now all were on that same plain. He looked about the plain they had all come to stand on, as if to find some sort of answer, but none were given. As he stayed knelt on the grass, a gentle breeze blew through the crowd of rotting tormentors, pushing oxygen into their long-neglected lungs, filling them with blessed, clear, powerful energy. Life. There were, strangely enough, no humans in that plain, no distant murmuring. Gone, as if they had all
left for the Great Beyond, the Beyond beyond the Beyond. Now, all that was left was just an empty field, filled with pale moonlight, the grass and trees swaying slightly as the only other evidence of life. Something chirped from the edges of the field, the trees coming to life with an insectile orchestra that thrummed in the chests of the demons. Something blinked from above, and Zazel lifted his skin-tight skull to the heavens—no, not to the heavens. Heaven be condemned. To the sky, that wonderful sky, an inky painting with a thousand stars twinkling above the hordes below. Zazel thought back to a man he’d met, a human he’d been guarding for a bit. A funny man with flaming hair and a straw hat with little paint splotches on it. That human, he hadn’t even been sure if hell had all been in his head or not. But every time Zazel passed by his station, the man had been reassuring himself with his memories of a life long-ago, long-gone. A sky so beautiful, paint and canvas could never capture its magnificence. Zazel had asked him what he knew of painting, and the man had said he had enjoyed the motion of it, capturing the world in a still picture. Skies of tears, spotted by swirling lights, stars all tangling together over a little town, a messy image of something so painfully real, so painfully alive, so painfully distant from the world of death and decay that Zazel had known. Zazel now understood what the man had meant. The man, he had been tormented even in life, and yet he had been granted eyes from the heavens to see, and to paint what he saw. Now, standing on plain earth, Zazel saw it, too. Perhaps even the demons still had sight, if the religions were to
be believed, because they, too, had once been angels. Perhaps god had granted them at least that. Perhaps it was selfish, for the purpose of having more viewers for god’s creation, god’s wonderful everything, but it didn’t matter. Zazel couldn’t care less. At least he could see this. He had seen heaven, a long time ago. He had seen hell for far too long. Now, he saw earth, and its unsymmetrical skies and open rolling fields and imperfect life forms and bittersweet joys… and he was satisfied. Content, even, as his body finally crumbled into sand and dust and dirt, dissolving into that of the earth.” The rest of Zazel’s account has been lost, but scholars may only hope that one day, the rest may be recovered. Until that time comes, the End of Time may continue to remain shrouded in history.
Sorry to Spook Ya, Adaija Childs, 2023
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Radiance in Darkness
So close yet so far away
As you sit high in the sky watching the earth decay You only appear in the night of day
As if the sun was the IRS and youAmir had Austin, 2022 taxes to pay So close yet so far away As you sit high in the sky watching the earth decay You only appear in the night of day As if the sun was the IRS and you had taxes to pay
“Untitled” Laila Abdalla, 2025
Untitled, Laila Abdalla, 2025 37
The Bird’s Call Amah Mancho, 2023
The darkness fell in place and the melody began Hastily came in rhythm and harmony as the male birds sang: Evening reached, the only thing missing is you Cast out a hook the fish you catch would be me And if I’m not what you want, let me go back into the sea Love is like night, it takes control of your vision Love is like darkness, it requires reckless faith and fast decision Oh please, take a chance, not for me but for you For everyone knows genuine moments take two Lady bird responded with “I do love you” Oh joy, with romance I’m born anew Victory for my heart, victory for all Everyone walks through life, until they fall *Read the first letter of each line
Nightide Waltz, Mercy Ewoodzie, 2024 38
Consequence of The Loa Karine Felix, 2022 “Congratulations!” “I knew it was a girl.” “Man, I wanted a nephew to play basketball with though.” “Girls can play basketball, you know that, right?” The baby shower lit the warm summer night with jubilant laughter as the excitement of the gender reveal of the newest addition to the Hilaire family was announced. Marie sat down on the throne decorated with fake gold paint, rubbing her belly fawning over the life growing inside her, she looked up with sparkling eyes at her husband Jean who held her left hand. They watched the party radiate blissful energy, but their eyes continued to settle on the woman at the table of the farthest corner of the venue. She sat there still, and emotionless, generating a dark aura, with a scowl on her face as she returned the gaze to the glistening couple. It was Judille— Jean’s mother—and she was not happy. Of all the choices her son had made in recent years, this might have been the last straw, the ultimate disgrace. Her only son… her most cherished blessing… continued choosing to dishonor her, their family, and their traditions. Enough was enough. Jean could not sit idle as his mother dampened the vibes of their celebration, he hadn’t even realized his grip around Marie’s hand began to tighten. Jean let go and walked towards his mother calmly. Coming to a stop far enough from where she sat to avoid forcing her to look up at him. “Mama, you cannot do this, you 39
cannot come to our baby shower and proceed to disrespect us. You have not offered so much as congratulations! Why did you even come?” Judille replied in a soft calm tone “My son… I came to warn you. The loa are not happy. You know you were selected to serve them, yet you choose to go marry a Christian girl. She could not even bless you with a son, they may have forgiven you if she had.” “Mama. I love her, she has been there for me when I was at my lowest, struggling in college. You were in Haiti, and I was here… alone. She picked me up and brought me where I am today. Look around at this beautiful building we are in. She helped me get here, not your loa.” “Do not speak like that to me! You will not disrespect your culture. I do not care what you think. All I can say is you know that the spirits will not approve, they will find a way to be obeyed.” Judille said in a stern voice yet maintaining her composure. She was being stern, not because she truly didn’t care for her sons’ happiness, but because she knew what the loa could do. Flashbacks of those midnight ceremonies she’d participated in played in her head, reminding her of why she had to deter her son from Marie. She had breathed in the heat of the people banging on the drums, the dust in the air burning her nose. She had watched the shadows from burning fire pits dance on the wall, and maroon faces grin eerily. They created an environment, one where the loa were pleased to be given attention and, therefore, do the bidding
figures, Andrea Trejo, 2023 requested, and now she feared her son was next bid to be dealt with. Jean paused, taking in what his mother had said. He didn’t know much about the loa, but he’d heard the stories, the superstitions—people going blind, seeing their dead ancestors; but why would he let superstition bring him and the start of his own family down when there was so much joy to be had. His eyes paced around the room, pausing at the array of blues and pinks thrown everywhere, and finally stopped at his mother’s eyes once again. His feet shuffled nervously, running through the consequences of the loa. Just how powerful were they? What would be his consequence for not obeying? ************************************ The room was black now. Void of all light to reflect the emotions that filled the air. Why had they chosen this route when all the warnings said not too? They were laying in the same bed, physically t
close, yet their minds were worlds apart, but they were still coming to the same conclusion. They had found each other when they both needed it most, but now maybe they needed to let each other go. The house was now a hollow shell of happiness that once filled the room.Marie thought to herself as she stared stiffly at the picture frame that held the black and white image she had just received from the doctor last week. Now, her baby was just a picture. Marie wept quietly, but Jean could still hear the tears caress her cheeks as they slid down. He was still, not moving a muscle, haunted by the fact that his resistance had caused this, and worse by the fact that Marie didn’t know that he was the one that caused this. He let his eyes close, uncomfortable in the fact that the expiration date of his relationship was nearing, he couldn’t keep lying to her, comforting her in her grief. Darkness surrounded Jean now that he’d lost everything. 40
She Dances.. Kiera Toole, 2023
Though born from the crumbs of destruction, She dances, spinning, twirling, pulling her blue crashing scarves With playful seduction. Waltz to tango to samba, she can never choose… Coaxing her blinking, bright siblings awake. And in phases, a spotlight appears as her muse! Soon the darkness turns to bright blue. Incandescence blankets the spectators with warmth and light and Cheer, except for her heart– left broken in two. As the luminance steals her show, Still she dances, without an audience to applaud. While raps are heard for the sphere’s bright glow. And when the sunburst exits stage left, to the crowd’s great dismay, Color disappears, the world returns to darkness and shadows, They call, “Come back! Please stay!” That’s her cue! She enters with joy and a feather’s weight. A feeble light, a mere “reflection,” they always state. She still dances with love, spreading it far…are you aware that only she can show us the stars?
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Secrets, Divya Tiwary, 2025
ĒLDRITCH Vineet Upadhya, 2023 From isles of pitch we rise, On a crimson day we waste. Heralds of the eldritch stars. We raise the angels they create.
As law and light retreat,
From Cerulean Seas of light we descend, To a silver night we fade. Bringers of the eternal night. We summon the devils of the gloom.
gods and devils make haste.
The shadows wane, The nocturne madness feasts, and the horrified delight shrieks.
As does the blaze within. The sadistic empath reaps,
In a blink, It's all gone. The rule of nothing, Its reign infinite In a body Without a shadow.
Aquatic Tranquility, Gloria Gao, 2023 42
The Night-Weaver Lauren Shinn, 2022
Come out to see the sun retreat: Its blazing glow fades into dusk. Arise, old one, and set your eyes upon your nightly chore. Your silver lace reflects the moon, Displaying detailed expertise. Arachnid limbs create suspense, Each time you cross your web.
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You gaze with pride at silken threads But yet, remain unsatisfied. Can you reveal to me your need To tear your labored strands?
You work with haste as night recedes And dawn reveals your golden hue. Your work, at last, is now complete, Prepared to start anew.
Untitled, Alexandra Ly, 2022 44
Untitled Alex Trulson, 2022 The shining stars glittered through the canopy of the jungle. On this crisp, clear night, a lone Sarporean wandered along the jungle floor. Though he had to pay attention to avoid tripping on sprawling roots and wandering into a pile of brambles, the sounds of the forest made their way into his head all the same. Various crickets chirping, the whirring of insects, the call of the bats of the jungle, and many, many other animals were all alive in his little segment of the forest. Off in the distance, he could hear the chanting of his tribe, a great ritual to keep the spirits of the jungle at peace with them.
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Vinemen crept through the canpy, with long, spindly arms of plant matter occasionally blocking out the moon and casting shadows on the jungle floor. He turned and for a second believed he had even seen a great Forest Wyvern slinking through the trees, though it may have just been an illusion of the darkness. He took in the sensual overload with awe and wonder. Although he had been alive for many, many years, he had never been this deep in the jungle, this late at night, on one of the most active nights of the year. The natural world he lived in was wondrous, something no man could truly understand.
As he trudged deeper through the undergrowth, he began seeing sights almost as wondrous as the sounds he had heard before. Massive luminescent forests of all assortments of mushrooms, as well as fantastical fauna and even the glow of spiritual energy lit up all around him. It was as bright as day, and as he looked around he couldn’t believe the organisms inhabiting the nighttime jungle. Despite the lack of contact with outsiders, he had heard enough stories from foreign travelers to know that the Sarporean jungle was one of the greatest loci of arcane energy present in the world, but it took the nighttime wonders of his home to truly cement that fact within his mind. As he moved on from luminescent gathering, he saw another light, but this one more familiar.
The warm, familial glow of a campfire, tended to by tribal leaders, with all manner of Sarporeans, ranging from the fully transformed elder bearmen to the youngest members of the tribe, the potential for their lives limitless. He shook hands and told them of what the fruits of his scouting mission had brought, and then regaled his fellows with stories of what he had experienced wandering through the jungle. This night, though the most active of nights, was not alone in its splendor, and he spent what felt like ages telling those present everything that had occurred. The wonder of their faces only grew when he told them what the long nights had bore his senses, and he felt satisfied knowing that he had experienced what many would envy to see in their lifetimes.
Cloudy Night Sky, Cameron Grey, 2025
In the Dark of Night Sofia Monteiro, 2022 In the dark of night the nocturnals awaken Coming out to feast Owls silently hunt Catching rodents unaware The circle of life Bats echolocate Small hungry flying mammals Eat the night’s insects Closer to your home A raccoon digs through your trash Searching for a meal A possum walks by With its babies on its back Scavenging for food Crickets sing their songs The shining stars lie above The moon glows softly In the dark of night While you are softly sleeping Nocturnals come out
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Hatim Burhani 2025
Untitled, Ruth Gabriel, 2022
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Close Your Eyes Justin Kim, 2023
The dark clouds blind the shining moon. Silence fills the empty streets. But little did I know that I would not be waking up soon. I fell back and closed my eyes embracing my sheets. As the clock ticks my body grows numb. My eyes open to greet a black thicker than deep space. And I float away, drifting to see what I’ve become. Now I’ve disappeared without a trace. The gloom in my vision runs down and starts to melt. My eyelids drooped in fear of seeing my destiny. I squint in fear of seeing what I would have felt. Then with a soft voice I hear “Everything is alright.”
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Untitled, Hatim Burhani 2025 50
Crescent and Star Aamna Rehman, 2023 The night after a moonless sky, a sliver of white appears on the horizon. Barely visible and perfectly curved into a cheshire smile, the crescent holds a bright star inside its open ring. It sits poised in the sky above domes and minarets of mosques that will be full the next day with the faithful coming to pray for the new month marked by the crescent’s sighting. The symbol of Islam represents the religion as perfectly as the Cross does Christianity and the Star of David does Judaism—yet its meaning is not as widely known or acknowledged as either. Despite appearing on the flags of numerous Islamic countries such as Turkey, Mauritania, and Pakistan, the crescent and its star don’t have specific stories or reasons behind its significance as other religious signs. In truth, the symbol held meaning to the people of the Arabian Peninsula long before the creation of Islam. A time of global trade and expansion, merchants from the region used the moon and stars to navigate routes. The importance of the night sky for the region’s trade translated over to Islam later, instead representing the sign that navigated believers on the “Path of God.” The crescent now serves a crucial role in the Hijri (Islamic) calendar which is based off of the lunar cycle. A new month is determined by the sighting of a waxing crescent after the new moon which marks the end of a month; this gives a remarkable responsibility to the moon that decides the date of several Islamic rituals and festivals, the largest 51
and most widely known being the month of Ramadan and it’s following holiday, Eid al-Fitr. Near the end of thirty days of fasting, Muslims around the world begin to pray for clear skies in order to make the sighting of the crescent easier; after, festivities start soon for the three night holiday celebrating the end to a successful month. The symbol also clearly alludes to the night. Most important festivities or rituals in Islam depend on or take place in the night, and old stories of the Prophet usually emphasize the night’s significance; the moon and star motif is fitting for such a religion. The night plays a crucial role in Ramadan with the time between sunset and sunrise being the only break from fasting during the thirty days. Furthermore, the last ten nights of Ramadan are considered the most important nights of the month as one of them will hold Laylat al-Qadr (the Night of Power), the holiest night in Islam and the commemoration of the angel Jibril (Gabriel) bringing Prophet Muhammad the Qur’an. Although Muslims are unsure of when exactly this night took place, they are aware that it falls in one of the last ten, leading them to pray longer or maybe even the whole night in a ritual called I’tikaf. These nights are spent as long hours of devotion and are rewarded seventy times more by God. Along with Laylat al-Qadr, there four other holy nights in the religion throughout the year. Shab-e-Barat (the Night of Forgiveness) takes place on
the fifteenth night of Shaban (the eighth month of the Hijri calendar) and, similarly to Layat al-Qadr, is dedicated to prayer. It lasts from sunset to dawn and followers collectively pray for forgiveness. The Prophet was known to have visited a graveyard and prayed for the deceased there on this night, so many followers also use this night to pray for their deceased ancestors and ask for forgiveness on their behalf. Shab-e-Meraj (the Night of Ascent) takes place on the twenty-seventh night of Rajab (the seventh month). This night commemorates the night when the Prophet visited heaven and drank from the “Fountain of Knowledge,” bringing back information on the religion for fellow followers. Muslims spend this night retelling this story, which is also told in the Qur’an, and remembering the journey of the Prophet. Laylat al-Raghaib (the Night of Wishes) marks the beginning of the three holiest months—Rajab, Shaban, and Ramadan—and commemorates the conception of the Prophet. Prayers on this night are said to be rewarded with the fulfillment of wishes. Milad-un-Nabi (Birth of Muhammad) marks the birth of the Prophet and is celebrated through giving charity, reciting the story of the Prophet through poetry, and singing hymns praising the Prophet. Night long prayers are practiced during this night as well. The moon is a key player in Islamic tradition and celebration; it leads in all five of the holy nights, revealing Islam as an almost nocturnal religion. The crescent and star motif establishes the importance of the moon and the night it brings and proves itself as a perfect symbol for the religion.
Gold Moon Necklace, LanAnh Doan, 2024 52
Tyto Alba Alicia Zheng, 2025 When the gossamer wings of night are spread, A phantom wakes from daytime slumber and takes flight, Over the forest of shadows and grassland of wind. The white heart of the spirit blazes, a cold, fiery flare, Gliding through the air and shining bright, When the gossamer wings of night are spread. On silent wings, through the air, The phantom soars, intent yet light, Over the forest of shadows and the grassland of wind. The spirit searches in silence and with care, Preparing to unleash its hidden might, When the gossamer wings of night are spread. The spirit flies, scanning the ground with a dark-eyed glare, Alert for life with both sound and sight, Over the forest of shadows and the grassland of wind. Searching, searching, for a mouse or hare, As it soars at its lofty height, When the gossamer wings of night are spread, Over the forests of shadows and the grasslands of wind.
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Untitled, Abby Smith, 2023
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The City’s Portrait Shiza Ghani, 2022 At the end of dusk, Zoya frantically grasped the edge of the rock and pulled herself onto the top of the hill; she collapsed by the side of a tree and tried to relax as Rija slowly trailed from behind and dusk descended. When Rija reached the top, a wide expanse of brightly-lit buildings towering over one another welcomed her; they were neatly arranged like boxes, tightly packed and sealed together by the buzz of rushing traffic and lively people. The patterns in the townscape were predictable and familiar, but looking at the entire city was like looking at a detailed painting for Rija— each time she saw it, she noticed and felt something new. Content with her survey, she climbed up onto the branch of a tree and leaned against the trunk, letting the warm breeze whistle through the leaves and harmonize with the distant song of the city, letting the stars glitter in the sky as their glimmer softly brushed the tranquil dark. Everything was so, so perfect. Zoya climbed up to sit beside her.
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“My goodness, what an amazing view! The city looks even more beautiful at night, right, Zoya?” “Yes, definitely,” Zoya murmured. Her eyes remained directed towards the city, glazing over various parts of it. No. The ache of her body was finally seeping away, but her muscles were still jittery with possibility. Zoya was a silent specter—she watched the sulking shadows drooping off of the buildings and listened to the clamor from the depths. She sat at the edge of one world and looked at another, her eyes searching as though the city might fold over on itself and the fabric of the cosmos might tear open if she did not find who she was looking for, as if he was the center of the city and the core of the cosmos. He was there—whether under a streetlight, on a bus, or in a building, he was there. Each side, edge, and corner of the buildings were dimly lit by the moon and pierced by the lights, adding new dimensions to the portrait in front of her. Light and shade shifted around the city, presenting a face to Zoya.
It’s too late to do anything, she thought. She would just sit there and let the wind gush out a cry as the stars faintly flickered above without a thought. “There is nothing more to say…” “Hm?” Zoya remained fixated on the city as vague remembrance surfaced in her mind. Grainy thoughts from the past reemerged and memories played like static. “Do you think he remembers me, Rija? When he faces the cliff, does he see me in the trees and hear me in the wind like I see him in the towers and hear him in the traffic? Or am I buried beneath branches and deafened by the draft? Is it just me, Rija? Tell me, what do you see? “Only life that moves fast and forever; I see the city happily move on with brightness and structure. But for you, perhaps it’s a blur of change as the cars rush by, too fast to understand and keep up with; everything’s happening all at once, and you are suspended in between. You are looking for one person in the chaos, as if he surely stopped for you. He is nowhere to be found, Zoya. Nowhere but in your memory, understand?” The cricket chirps and frog croaks died down as the darkness lost its color, leaving the two in silence.
Zoya leaned still against her friend’s shoulder and looked forward, allowing the still image of the city to go out of focus from her burning eyes and letting her heart flood. She sulked and shivered as a gust of wind rattled the leaves around them, but Rija held her in place, worried she might fall. “Zoya, listen carefully. Even if it’s not right now, you will see and hear another part of the city. You will feel the world grow anew, as shall you. Until then, I will wait with you.” They held each other together through the night until eventually, bird call broke the silence that had paused time, crescendoing as more birds rose from their slumber. Zoya was surprised to once again hear the hum of life resonating in the wind’s whisper, ushering a way back. She noticed a sea of vibrant colors reflecting off of each surrounding; the grass waving with the wind, the flowers facing the sunlight, and the mellow smile on Rija’s face. “I think it is time, Rija. I think I am ready.” She took another look at the city below. “Oh, it’s just a time distant from here, Rija. Long past me. And the city is just the city, like it has always been.” Despite her assurance, she could not let go of Rija; she accepted Rija’s embrace and took her hand. As dawn ascended, the two jumped down from the branch and went back down the way they came from.
The City, Sofia Monteiro, 2022
Paralyzed Shiza Ghani, 2022
The embrace extinguished as a tired flame, Smoke dwindled off with a lasting shame–Now Shadows are falling like a heavy shroud Over my hollow corpse–It’s just for now. Suppressing thoughts, ever so loud for sound; What will it take to shatter the night? I am not alive–What end for your sake? To quench your distress; we’re not the same, yet A quiet unease is drifting within, Clouded by dark water–It’s half a dream. In learning to drown, I forgot to breath; When will I learn to shatter the night? I am not dead–What distance does it take? To traverse between real and fake; what ache The harrowing beat of my heart could quake And rattle me into tremors and shakes, but Too silent a spirit to break awake; How could I ever shatter the night? You sing as you surface from deep waters– Haunting harmonies that echo regret. Layers of darkness that reflect reject Droop over like your gape, dissecting me. To you, I cannot speak–For you, I seek; Perhaps only you can shatter the night.
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The embrace extinguished as a tired flame, Smoke dwindled off with a lasting shame–Now I am not alive– What end for your sake? To quench your distress; we’re not the same, yet I am not dead–What distance does it take? To traverse between real and fake; what ache You sing as you surface from deep waters– Haunting harmonies that echo regret. Shadows are falling like a heavy shroud Over my hollow corpse–It’s just for now. Suppressing thoughts, ever so loud for sound; What will it take to shatter the night? A quiet unease is drifting within, Clouded by dark water–It’s half a dream. In learning to drown, I forgot to breath; When will I learn to shatter the night? The harrowing beat of my heart could quake And rattle me into tremors and shakes, but Too silent a spirit to break awake; How could I ever shatter the night? Layers of darkness that reflect reject Droop over like your gape, dissecting me. To you, I cannot speak–For you, I seek; Perhaps only you can shatter the night. The embrace extinguished as a tired flame, Smoke dwindled off with a lasting shame–Now Shadows are falling like a heavy shroud Over my hollow corpse–It’s just for now. Suppressing thoughts, ever so loud for sound; What will it take to shatter the night? I am not alive–What end for your sake? To quench your distress; we’re not the same, yet A quiet unease is drifting within, Clouded by dark water–It’s half a dream. In learning to drown, I forgot to breath; When will I learn to shatter the night? I am not dead– What distance does it take? To traverse between real and fake; what ache The harrowing beat of my heart could quake And rattle me into tremors and shakes, but Too silent a spirit to break awake; How could I ever shatter the night? You sing as you surface from deep waters–Haunting harmonies that echo regret. Layers of darkness that reflect reject Droop over like your gape, dissecting me. To you, I cannot speak–For you, I seek; Perhaps only you can shatter the night. The embrace extinguished as a tired flame, Smoke dwindled off with a lasting shame– Now I am not alive–What end for your sake? To quench your distress; we’re not the same, yet I am not dead– What distance does it take? To traverse between real and fake; what ache You sing as you surface from deep waters– Haunting harmonies that echo regret. Shadows are falling like a heavy shroud Over my hollow corpse–It’s just for now. Suppressing thoughts, ever so loud for sound; What will it take to shatter the night? A quiet unease is drifting within, Clouded by dark water–It’s half a dream. In learning to drown, I forgot to breath; When will I learn to shatter the night? The harrowing beat of my heart could quake And rattle me into tremors and shakes, but Too silent a spirit to break awake; How could I ever shatter the night? Layers of darkness that reflect reject Droop over like your gape, dissecting me. To you, I cannot speak–For you, I seek; Perhaps only you can shatter the night. The embrace extinguished as a tired flame, Smoke dwindled off with a lasting shame– Now Shadows are falling like a heavy shroud Over my hollow corpse–It’s just at odds, Josephine Chivore, 2022 for now. Suppressing thoughts, ever so loud for
Dawn Will Break Micah Xu, 2023 The sky was dark, and there was no moon to preside over the night sky that evening. The ground below and the leaves of the trees above were covered with a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. A girl, no, a monster, sprinted into the forest along the paths that were least traversed by travelers. She was a harpy, if the men in coats were to be believed. Yet unlike the harpies in stories, she was no child of God, nor was she vicious or bloodthirsty. She had no greater destiny or desire, no legend told or song sung for her. She bore no arms or hands, instead having wings and ink-black feathers that scarcely covered them. She felt the bones in her legs, which held talons instead of feet, creak and ache under the pressure of her movement. She let out short, breathy gasps as she ran, her head racing with a thousand different thoughts scattered throughout her mind, yet all were unified in one, singular desire. Escape. She ran, and ran, and ran until her legs could carry her no further. Her body, mutilated and bloody as it was, collapsed face first into the snow, but her mind continued to race. Did I make it far enough? Where are they? Please, please don’t let them find me. It’s dark. I’m cold. It hurts. Eventually, after laying in the snow for what felt like hours, the girl’s mind collapsed like her body, and she fell into a deep sleep, covered by the snow that would be—in her quickly departing mind—her grave. The snow covered her talons, then her wings, then her entire 59
body, and her mind slowly ground to a halt. She smiled, for she had won, and was swallowed up by the darkness. Then, at once, the sun rose, and her world was filled with light. Her eyes fluttered open, and she jolted awake before wincing in pain as her legs and back screamed at her for moving. She stared around herself, her eyes darting about the room like a panicked bunny as her faculties tried to take in the surrounding area. She looked down, and made an important observation, and dread snuck into her heart like a thief as the revelation struck her like a wild boar. She had survived, and they had won. She would have rather died right then and there, and have her soul pass into night, finally free from the people, no, monsters who had hurt her, but no. Eventually, her head perked up slightly, her neck aching as it moved, as the first sound other than the crackle of a distant fire entered her ears. Voices. She quickly tried to roll off of whatever she was laying on and hide underneath it, covering her eyes as she cowered in abject fear at what was to come. “Oh, so you’re awake then. You shouldn’t move around like that, you are hurt and need to lay back down and keep still or else your wounds might open back up. If you happen to be a child of some sort of deity, tell them not to smite me.” He spoke dryly with a hint of sarcasm, his voice calm, collected, and deep. His response was met by silence, and he let out a sigh.
“Roura, she’s awake, she’s hiding under the bed. I made some soup, get some in a bowl and bring it here.” His statement was followed by a feminine “alright” from the other room. Eventually, after what seemed like forever, the girl heard another set of footsteps coming towards the room, followed shortly by a voice. “Well, here’s the soup, good job by the way, dear. You actually followed the recipe this time.” She mentioned, her voice going up and down in a snarky, playful tone. Eventually, a bowl of soup would slide across the floor in front of the harpy, and she wouldn’t have even considered eating it if it wasn’t for the smell. The smell was intoxicating to the girl, she could practically taste the soup without even eating it. She, for the first time, stared up at the couple, her eyes darting up towards them before she used her talons to pull the bowl underneath the “bed” as the two adults called it. The man, Cael, had strange, yellow eyes that seemed to be the color of sunlight, radiant and commanding, and he wore a small and concerned frown on his lips. He had short hair the color of clouds, wispy and curly like cotton. He wore glasses, the frames made of some sort of blue metal, like the sky, and that’s about all she could surmise from the man. As for the woman, Roura, she had long, flowing hair that was as black as the feathers on the girl’s own body. Her eyes were a bright yellow, similar to her husband, as if the sun beaming through the darkness of the hair that surrounded it. She wore an amused smirk, though not one of malice or sadistic pleasure. “I’m going to get another bowl, the child seems hungry, be careful with her and refrain from touching her, we don’t know how she’ll react to that.” He spoke before exiting the room, leaving the half-bird half-human hybrid and Roura alone in the room together.
Roura smirked at the girl, before lowering her body and getting on her hands and knees and crawling a bit closer to the girl, though not enough to touch her. The girl responded by backing up into the darkness under the bed, her eyes still locked onto the woman’s face as they glimmered slightly in the dark, like stars in the night sky. “I’m sorry for what you must have gone through. You were really hurt back there and I’m surprised we made it in time. Truth be told, and my husband can back me up on this, you probably should have died back there.” She spoke, before lightly smiling to herself. “You want to live, don’t you?” Eventually, after a few moments of silence, Roura smirked to herself again, this time in a smirk of satisfaction. “Ah, so you can understand me. I can see it in your eyes.” She spoke, giggling to herself lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be scared anymore. Cael and can offer you a home. A home with warmth, food, and soft things.” She spoke, holding her hand lightly over the girl’s wing, disregarding Cael’s warning. The girl stared at the woman, processing her words in her mind. She did not understand everything, but she could tell that the woman was offering to help her. She paused for a moment. Help? Help had been naught but a long distant memory, a forgotten, dead relic of a time that once was. Besides, monsters like her did not get help. The girl thought to herself wildly as she hid under the bed, but she couldn’t help but think perhaps there was some truth to her words. A flutter in her heart, perhaps? Hope? Perhaps this was the sun she had longed for. The sun will rise. Dawn. Will. Break.
At Daybreak’s Edge, Sofia Monteiro, 2022
The Deer Elizabeth Hall, 2022
Last night, I woke up shivering sniveling screaming Maggots in my gut Eyes seeking the Light fluttering following fighting Darkness with all might When I saw the Deer gobbling gurgling gorging On horrors of fear Skeleton bone white Sockets black as night staring staring staring Staring straight at me
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Untitled, Elizabeth Hall, 2022 62
We Never Went to the Moon? Bobby Sharma, 2022 On July 24, 1969, NASA made its remarkable, successful mission of sending three astronauts to the Moon and returning them back to earth. Neil Armstrong would be the first astronaut to walk on the moon which he described as “one small step for man, one giant leapfor mankind.” Everyone joyfully admired and praised this event until one man came across the idea of this significant event maybe being a hoax. His name is Bill Kaysing. In 1976, Kaysing published his book We Never Went to the Moon. Kaysing was like every conspiracy theorist; however, his theory was formed with the experience he had from the U.S space program, specifically his time in Saturn V rocket production. Could his theory be true due to his high levels of credibility? Well, the short answer is no.
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According to theorists, the photos we notoriously see of the Apollo mission should show parallel shadows, due to the sun being the only source of light while in space. Although this statement is true, the shadows on the moon should not be parallel due to uneven surface topography. But how can we see these astronauts in photos that are standing in shadows? The common effect of being in the dark while a full moon is present is similar to what was happening on the moon while the astronauts were there. The Extravehicular Mobility Unit (spacesuits) are the reason why we can see any astronaut even though light and shadows are reflecting off them. Furthermore, with notable movies and theories suggesting that the landing could have been filmed in an established studio with advanced technology, studies showed that movements by the astronauts were completely accurate, as movements such as arm movements and jumping could not have been replicated as they were on the moon.
Apollo 11 allowed for the U.S to signify their advances in space exploration by planting a U.S flag. Theorists use this evidence as a big part of their argument as they believe that therewas no possible way of the flag remaining on the moon while swinging. Yet, this false evidence fails to understand that the flag isn’t really “flapping.” The flag is actually immobile and maintains its state due to the low gravity state of the Moon. In addition, conspiracists also fail to take into consideration that Apollo astronauts could survive the ‘Van Allen’ radiation belt of Earth with the period when the astronauts entered the field being too short for casualties.
Regardless of the theories being debunked, the conspiracy still exists in our current day and continues to develop. Popular celebrities such as Joe Rogan and Shane Dawson continue to believe in the theory that has been debunked, and while having their own thoughts is a moral right, their huge platform could mislead many people of the younger generation. Additonally, the population has also alluded to jokes about Apollo 11, an example being Stephen Curry making fun of the moon rocks that were obtained on the mission. NASA’s efforts continue going to waste in an attempt to mai tain their great mission; however, theorists will not stop them from obtaining achievements for themselves.
First Quarter Moon, Sofia Monteiro, 2022
De La Luna Kenny Ngo, 2023
Oh moon, shine so bright with your light, And with your glow, you fill the night. No crescent, seek no fluorescent, Without you, oh how unpleasant.
The night is grim, other times dim, While the sun, always full of vim. It now settles, to a speckle, Oust by Luna and her freckles. Luminates the sky, as stars fly, Oh moon, soon I say my goodbyes.
Moonlight, Cianna Wang, 2023
Credits Editor-in-Chief: Shiza Ghani
Editors: Aarish Allani Natalia Alvarez-Rodriguez Natenael Belai Aletheia Cocar Karine Felix Ruth Gabriel Serene Harris Nina Johnson Justin Kim
Special Thanks to:
Kenny Ngo Helen Nguyen Aamna Rehman Bobby Sharma Lauren Shinn Usha Umair Vineet Upadhya Micah Xu
Adaeze Uzoije, Club President The Literary Magazine Club Mr. Andrews, Class Teacher and Club Sponsor Dr. Phillips, Art Teacher Ms. Vatalaro, Photography Teacher