J.N. Burnett's Literary Magazine Club // Volume 5, issue 2 : ILLUSION

ft. works from the jn burnett student body

jn burnett's literary magazine club

illusion. 5-2

january 2021

edit r’s n te Why does the journey home always seem to go by faster? After all, hadn’t there been roadblocks on the trip there that had been so demanding, profusely vile even, chipping away at your resolve to the point where your shiny visions nearly became shrouded in fog?

How is it that we conquer these misgivings with each trial, and what moves us to awake at dawn, relentless in our continued pursuit of the higher mountain?

There are glittering dreams to chase, mountain trolls to battle, and companions to laugh and cry with in the liminal wonderland between adolescence and adulthood. What seems mundane may reveal magic at second glance. A source of warmth, having served its purpose, may grow to induce shivers. Do not dare, even for a fleeting moment, to trek this space with your eyes wide shut.

In this issue, we invite you to join JNB Lit’s creatives in exploring a world of dreams and wonder that graces the threshold between the real and the illusory.

Louise Cham and Maya Uyeno JNB Lit Magazine’s co-editors-in-chief 01/29/2021

table f c ntents on the cover 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 12 13 16 17 18 19 20 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

under the blue sun // delfia tingala editor’s note contents the team jam packed butterfly // winnie xie dear 2020 // maddie lee inside my grey house // destiny lang seaside train // yuyu liu sailing vessel: passion // maya uyeno crossing the plains // adam title duality // tayla barbosa blurred vision // brianna hernandez bevan out of the blue // carina chen agape // yuyu liu under the blue sun // delfia tingala deceit // eliana barbosa calm // alyssa wong haze // tiffany li umbrella // colin lim dormant mountain // destiny lang masked // jessie lan hallucination // cadence lung thank you

the team louise cham maya uyeno samantha yeung claire hung tayla barbosa mary ortega eliana barbosa eunice wan adam title

writers:

photographers:

artists:

editor-in-chief editor-in-chief creative + visual director secretary + treasurer social media manager graphic designer graphic designer graphic designer general executive

maddie lee, yuyu liu, destiny lang, maya uyeno brianna hernandez bevan, eliana barbosa, colin lim winnie xie, alyssa wong, adam title, tayla barbosa, cadence lung, tiany li, jessie lan, carina chen, samantha chow, yuyu liu, delďŹ a tingala

jam packed space song i don’t miss you at all be around me tailwhip fast pace IDK you yet flicker sugarplum elegy duvet open your eyes illusion fantasy just like magic japanese denim secret for the mad lucky ones not by the moon freedom goodbye

beach house FINNEAS will joseph cook men i trust seventeen alexander 23 enhyphen niki boa strfkr ateez alina baraz arianna grande daniel caesar dodie lana del rey got7 akmu billie eilish

search “spotify:user:jnblitmagazine” to listen to the playlist!

butterflies

winnie xie

Dear 2020, maddie lee

If I had to describe you, you started as a rose garden on a cloudy day.

The roses were beautiful; with delicate petals and a delightful aroma, how could anyone hate you?

Yet, you had thorns. Hidden from the top, just hiding the pain they could truly hold.

They’d hurt us if we weren’t careful.

But what could we say? A new decade, a new chapter for many. It was just so exciting for so many of us. Who cares about the thorns? The clouds? This was a once-in-alifetime experience, and we weren’t gonna celebrate a new year by worrying about them.

Maybe we should have paid more attention to them. We’d learn the bitter truth soon enough.

2020, you became a storm, vicious and unpredictable. Dark clouds surrounded the sky with gales of wind waiting to sweep us off our feet. The rose garden has flooded, loose petals drifting from its old home.

We had to stay at home to be safe. Away from friends. Away from family. Away from loved ones. Away from the world. Going out would be dangerous. Who knew what could happen with you?

2020, you made us feel lots of emotions. Panic was the first of many when we heard the storm was coming. It was a mad dash to the grocery store to stock up. Shelves empty of canned food, the ones in the back collecting dust even gone. Limits of eggs and meat ordered. And toilet paper just vanished from everywhere. Never seen that in my life.

I think we’ve all realized how much we take things for granted. Hugs, in-person classes, shopping trips and vacations. I’ve learned to be more grateful for everything, even a simple car ride.

2020, we were so bored. Joy couldn’t come the same way it once did. Exploring downtown and walking with friends were things of the past now. Sure the first few days were okay, but having the same routine for over two months made home feel more like just a regular house, even a prison of some sort at times.

2020, you made us find new ways to bring joy into our lives again. We stabbed people (in a video game). We shopped online, then had a fashion show. We created whatever cloud bread is (it’s not even bread, and it just looks disgusting). We watched so much TV I think our data bill went up or something, uh I don’t remember…

But nonetheless, at least we were happy doing so. At least we felt some joy, some light.

2020, your storm made quite the mess. You brought arguments between us with words of venom thrown and vengeful actions at each other. The rose garden we once admired together is now seen as an ugly field of thorns planted by those we accuse in the wrong.

Anger was the only emotion we felt as we fired insults back and forth.

Not gonna lie, that was probably worse than the storm itself.

From that, I think we’ve learned that we have to care for one other, no matter our looks, loves and beliefs. Because we’re all human. Deep down inside, we’re all the same.

Together, we’ve become more aware of others and we remind each other to love ourselves. We defended those who need our help and taught those who don’t understand the values that everyone deserves, and we continue to do that today.

And at the end of the day, you brought little pockets of hope to help us make it to the end of the year. The dark skies would sometimes part, and the sun would peek out.

Rainbows would light up the sky with bright colours in a year that seemed so dull. The roses would stop slumping and stand proud, showing off their beauty.

The smiles of our loved ones through a screen. Different, but still there. New games introduced with lots of laughs. TikTok dances to some, um, interesting lyrics.

Nonetheless, they were our sun when skies were grey.

2020, maybe you were a blessing in disguise. The storm bringing rain and reminders to our sprouts for us to grow from. The roses are still vibrant as ever, reminding us of the few good things in this past year. We’ve learned a lot this year, to remember the little things and the big picture.

There’s still lots left to do, still got to fix the mess, bring positivity back and brave the storm.

This past year definitely has been difficult and different. I know a lot of people will regard you as the worst year of their life, but I think they’ll look back and reminisce to a time when perseverance was put to the test. Maybe they’ll see that even though the roses had thorns and the storm was messy, they were beautiful.

So 2020, thank you.

Inside My Grey House destiny lang

Concealed within my grey house are stories, secrets, and bursts of colours. You may judge it by the faded wreath on the front door, or the spiders settling in corners, but I’ll prove your judgment wrong when I welcome you into my home post-COVID. Not one room here has bare white walls — we have rose, lavender, salmon, aqua, daffodil, and sky blue. My family chose those colours for ourselves, brightening the atmosphere from within. Near my mom’s closet, a small section is marked with pencil scribbles. We used to straighten up, backs against the wall to record our changing height. That area of the wall is my favourite.

Some loose papers scattered across the living room floor. Watch your step — step over the vacuum cleaner! It’s not the neatest and tidiest, but you can tell the house is alive. Although we fight and argue, my sister is a genius. She connects her laptop to the TV, and she attends her Zoom classes relaxed and at ease.

Welcome to the dining room! You can smell and you can tell that my mom is baking fresh bread. Some blueberries are on the stove. Try it with bread if you like jam! Back in the summer of 2018, we bought 52 pounds of blueberries, but we never fulfilled our goal of eating a pound per week in a year. Fortunately, we have two small freezers.

You can settle in the chairs — the soft pillows on them are comfortable and inviting.

Each and every summer, sunflowers standing tall guard my yard. My mom’s herb garden would thrive with mint, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. (She also loves Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel.) Sometimes I would help my mom propagate “hens n’ chicks” in the garden to grow our succulent family.

Speaking of family, I live with my mom and my sister in our grey house. Contrary to the dreary appearance of the house, we are a loud, lively crowd. Often we fight and argue, but I feel grateful to say that we are learning to accept our differences and overcome our misunderstandings and other barriers. We are not giving up.

Accepting our flaws and imperfections was not easy, and we are certainly not a “perfect” family (if there is one). Do not be fooled by the exterior of my grey house!

The interior is full of learning, love, and life.

seaside train yuyu liu

sailing vessel: passion The boat slides into my field of vision like a majestic chariot, clad in golden armour and embroidered sails. Inked calligraphy on the hull reads: The Illusion. It soars across the open sea with both the current and the wind on its side, off to distant lands. I have seen this ship in the news, heard friends talk about it sometimes. The captain has years of experience, a large crew, and a natural-born talent for sailing.

I find something resembling jealousy stirring within me—a desire to one day sail such a beautiful vessel. A desire to visit those places and meet those people.

At first, it seems impossible, for sailing is no easy task, requiring time and hard work and much perseverance. I decide to go, knowing that it will be hard, and believing that I can overcome the challenges.

The first step of any journey is planning. I take out a notebook and a pen, and the ink sprawls across the page as I outline the course of my journey.

It takes a bit of time to get started, especially finding a suitable ship. I find one eventually, though it is nowhere near as glamorous as The Illusion. I name my ship Passion and set out on the seas with a crew of one.

Sailing isn’t nearly as exciting as I’d imagined it to be. There are long waits at ports for supplies, and I find myself tiring after hours upon hours of seeing nothing but water. That seems to be the problem, I think. None of my friends wanted to join me on my voyage—through no fault of their own. They have their own lives, their own “voyages.”

The image of The Illusion lingers in my mind, and the more I interact with other sailors in the ports, the more I hear about it. The journeys that ship has been on burrow into my mind, planting dreams of what I might one day accomplish aboard Passion.

At the next town, I learn about The Illusion’s planned path, and decide to follow it. Up until this point, I haven’t really had a plan of where to sail, so why not follow the ship that inspired this journey? Besides, there is probably a lot to learn from their voyage.

Maybe I might one day have a ship as spectacular as The Illusion.

I tear the pages out of the journal and begin to follow the path of the ship.

It doesn’t make the journey any more interesting, but by this point I’ve figured out what the problem is. I’m doing this alone, while The Illusion has a crew. They’re a team. That’s what I’m missing.

At the next port, I invite people aboard my boat for the small price of a bit of assistance (I’m still not quite sure what I’m doing) and company. My first passenger is a woman a few years older than me; her name is Kay. She offers a bit of advice here and there, and I can’t thank her enough.

I expect sailing to go smoothly from there, but, of course, it doesn’t.

Passion is a solid, well-built ship, but navigating severe weather depends on the captain, and I am not up to the task. We run into the rocks. I lose sight of The Illusion. The wind starts to blow us backwards into a little harbour. From there, there is nothing to do but wait for the wind to die down.

Within the next week, two boats make it out; they have sails specially designed for winds like these. I wish I knew how to make them. I think I would, if I were a better captain. If I were older and had more experience. If I’d made a different journey before, an easier one. If I had practised more, studied more, attended a sailing class. If I had read more sailing books when I was young.

Another boat makes it out the next day, the captain old and weathered. He commands his crew with such ease. These are seasoned sailors, and it shows when the wind does not push them back into the harbour.

I am sitting on the dock, shoes and socks behind me with my feet dangling in the water. Why did I think I could do this? My past-self listened to no reason when friends and family said it was too hard, that I should settle down and do something more useful with my time.

Footsteps lightly tread on the aged creaking planks, and stop beside me. I look up, and see the familiar face of my one and only crewmate. She stares down at me kindly, eyes bright, and asks: “What are you doing out here?”

I shrug. I don’t really know what to do. There isn’t really anything to do, trapped in the harbour by the storm. “Some made it out yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit reluctantly. Kay already knows this; I have told her many times.

“Nobody does,” she says simply, and I know that can’t be the truth. Or at least it doesn’t feel like it. Everyone has years of experience, a big crew, enough knowledge stored up to fill a library.

And here I am, just trying to keep up.

“They do, though,” I sigh. “They’re better.”

She shakes her head and turns to look me in the eye. “Not better, only different. Your journey is

different from anyone else’s here. That doesn’t make it worse.”

She’s wrong though. It isn’t different. I’ve been following in the path of another since the beginning, and I can’t seem to stop. I’m still chasing The Illusion.

Kay seems to read my mind. “Yeah, I noticed we were following a certain ship.” She shrugs.

“And I’m not going to lie to you, we probably won’t be able to follow them exactly. They’re the professionals, the ones who do this for a living.”

I wonder if I’ll never be able to follow. “Yeah,” I say, swinging my feet in the water.

“And that’s fine.”

I narrow my eyebrows at Kay, who appears far too casual for the whirlwind of emotion going on inside me.

She sighs. “You’re not doing this for the money, are you?” she asks.

I shake my head quickly. “Of course not.” This was never for money, I never meant to make this a career. I just wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to see if Passion could match The Illusion.

“Then you haven’t done anything wrong. So far, have you been enjoying sailing?”

It takes me a while to come up with an answer. But despite everything that’s gone south since I began my voyage, the answer is yes.

“Then you’re on the right path,” she says, smiling. “You don’t have to be perfect at something to enjoy it.”

There is a long silence as I consider it. The captains who fought the wind and won—they must have been in my position once. After all, we learn through our mistakes, through our challenges.

And perhaps, one day, it will be I who can make it out of an unlucky harbour with ease. But for now… maybe it’s enough just to enjoy the trip. To take my time to learn and improve and just enjoy it. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll be as good as the rest of them.

It takes another week for favourable weather to arrive, and when it does, there’s a celebration among the other sailors in the harbour that have been stuck here for far too long.

I sail out with ease, sails full, and Kay by my side.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of gold. The Illusion, heading south to warmer waters.

I spare one last glance at the ship and steer Passion in the opposite direction.

crossing the plains adam title

duality tayla barbosa

brianna hernandez bevan

out of the out of the out of the

blue carina chen

a p g e a yuyu liu

Garden of dreams buried deep in sleep, A child of twelve tiptoes and creeps.

A head cushioned upon a pillow, Bears the image of weaving through weeping willows.

Wandering through whispering whimsical woods, Imaginary eyes see a view too good.

The dreary weight of reality swept away by the night, A kiss of summer breeze mumbles, “stop the fight.”

Stumbling down a cool stone way, Following the child, though why, I cannot say.

All that’s known is they hold the key, To a new kind of way of being happy.

Golden locks, silken threads of my heart.

Snag on bramble and vine, they tear me apart.

Dear love, stop prancing across the grass, Your dance is too fast—I’m tripping, bare feet upon glass.

Tired of chasing what runs away, Tired of chasing day after day.

But lo and behold the irony of it all, For the heart craves most those blocked off by a wall.

Foolish to think rest was what awaited here, Since when did closed eyes mean the end was near?

Foolish to think the roses and trees, Would hold any sliver of solace for me.

But that is just selfish, it is not?

To believe me alone with jumbled thoughts?

How many before me have reached out, For a love that ambled down another route?

Sweet child twirling away in the wind, Dance to your heart’s content.

We do not always need to say more words, Nor speak of any great lessons learned.

Through the old Greek fountain’s mist, Your smile under spun gold I witnessed.

Dreary eyes open, willow and rose fall away, A silver key in hand, looking slightly grey.

Will I stumble back to the garden of dreams?

The answer has come, it seems.

Yes.

under the

blue sun delfia tingala

deceit

deceit eliana barbosa

calm

alyssa wong

haze

tiffany li

umbrella colin lim

dormant mountain destiny lang

Legs tucked into my chest Don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me Arms wrapped around shoulders Don’t hear me don’t hear me don’t hear me

The volcano roars The magma is burning The earth shakes and trembles The lava keeps on churning

Facedown into pillows Can’t see you can’t see you can’t see you Safe underneath blankets Can’t hear you can’t hear you can’t hear you

Hardening into stone Unbroken, a breathing boulder Silently I slumber A dormant mountain in the mist

masked

jessie lan

cadence lung

“the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.�

with love,

JN BURNETT'S LITERARY MAGAZINE CLUB