J.N. Burnett's Literary Magazine Club // Volume 6, Issue 3 : VIVID

vivid april 2022

ft. works from the jn burnett student body

6-3

The human senses hold gifts that we may not realize we use in our everyday lives: we are able to see things in all its technicolour glory. When we take a look around our world, it becomes our palette. The soft blue sky against striking yellow sun rays.

Ripe, red tomatoes growing on deep, green stems. Christmas neon light shows and bright birthday celebrations. These are multitudes of colours and the millions of hues in between which we call ROY G BIV. Our mind not only can process all these different shades, but it also has a beautiful ability of creating pictures in our mind.

Visualization, whether that's from reading stories in the present or reminiscing on the past, captures our mind with images from the abstract unknown or vivid recollection. Even though there may not be a visual present in person, our mind can create its own, full of clarity and colour. Our eyes and mind make the world a little more interesting, adding its own flair to sceneries which may have been dull, had we been another creature.

VIVID captures the old memories and new sensations, with bright hues on display for you to see or visualize. Get ready to see JNB artists' interpretations of colour and delve into our third issue, leaving you with vivid imagery on your mind.

Happy Reading!

Madie Lee & Samantha Cham JNB Literary Magazine's co-editors-in-chief 04/11/2022

on the cover 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 31 32 33 34

iridescent adolescence // eliana barbosa editor's note contents the team jam packed // vi(vibes) vibrant smoke // lisa zhang untitled // erica yang almost eye-catching // tiffany li never-ending story // alyssa wong IMAGINATION // cadence lung RED // cadence lung iridescent adolescence // eliana barbosa seasons change // samaya grewal untitled // armaan khunkhun bang! // ethan chin infatuation // anika ng tha mad lady // samantha chow i am riding the bus and do not know how to get off // thomas graham & leandro ascui i still wear our ring (it's been a millennium) // rachael zheng hanahaki // yuyu liu pain(t) // four untitled // jocelyn sutanto thank you!

executives creative + visual director eliana barbosa graphic designers tiffany li anika ng cadence lung yuyu liu rachael zheng armaan khunkhun social media + marketing managers tayla barbosa jessie lan samantha chow

writers:

photographers:

artists:

editors-in-chief madie lee samantha cham secretary adrianne namuco tracy yang treasurer alyssa wong

rachael zheng, four

alyssa wong, eliana barbosa, samaya grewal, thomas graham & leandro ascui

lisa zhang, erica yang, tiffany li, cadence lung, armaan khunkhun, ethan chin, anika ng samantha chow, yuyu liu, jocelyn sutanto

a playlist vi(vibes) hot rod remember when stargazing baby blue liz forever every summertime as it was vinegar resonance BAMBOLEO RUN2U LSD eat my love ganadara borderline ditch

day glow wallows lamp fishmans remi wolf charli xcx niki harry styles amelia moore home red velvet STAYC vangdale ft. JUNNY BIBI jay park ft. IU tame impala gus dapperton

scan to listen to our playlist and give us a follow!

vibrant smoke lisa zhang

6

untitled

erica yang

7

s e o m t s t aallllm yyee-- caattcchhiiiinn g aa g moostt eeyy g g n ccatchh

tiffany li 8

e n d r e i n v e e n d r e inggssttoorryy nnev

alyssa wong

9

IMAGINATION

cadence lung

10

RED

cadence lung

11

models: carly chen, tayla barbosa

eliana barbosa

12

13

14

15

16

17

i r i d e s c e n t

18

a d o l e s c e n c e

19

seasons change samaya grewal

20

untitled

armaan khunkhun

21

22

23

em a d la d y

the mad la d the mad lady

samantha chow

24

din g the bus

i am riding the bus and do not know how to get off

do not know thomas graham & leandro ascui

25

rachael zheng You’d think that as an immortal being, you’re bound to forget everyone you’ve ever met after a few centuries, right?

Wrong.

It’s been 961 years since I met her, and I still think of her every morning when my alarm scares me awake and she’s not there to turn it off for me.

Every night when I slip under my covers and find there are no warm hugs awaiting me, my mind wanders to the nights she was there to hold me.

The ghost of her haunts me; I see her in everything even now. Vivid memories of her fill my mind as I swipe up spilled coffee grounds off of the counter in a hurry to open my shop on time. The books I haphazardly reorganize on the large bookshelves lining the walls are mainly a compilation of some of her favorites. And even in my rush, I still smile fondly at the little sandwiches in the display case that remind me of the best day of my many years of living.

It was a Monday- no, it was a Tuesday.

I stood in front of the door to her apartment, a picnic basket in hand and a bouquet of magnolias in the other. I took a deep breath before raising my hand to knock on her door.

I could hear shuffling from within the apartment until a few seconds later when the door swung open and revealed the love of my life.

“Penelope!” she gasped. “Are these for me? What a womanizer!” Her eyes were shining as her eyes bounced back and forth from my face to the bouquet.

26

A giggle slipped out of my mouth as I handed her the flowers. I couldn’t help but notice how her white sundress matched the pale white of the magnolias. It was also hard to miss the way my heart squeezed when I saw the way her red locks fell around her face and cascaded down to her shoulders.

"Hello, love. Yes, these are for you. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep. Give me a second to lock up.”

A few moments later, we were taking a stroll to the park across the street with our arms linked as she told me about the little rabbit that she almost ran over that morning and the coffee she spilled on her reports at work. I hummed quietly beside her as I guided us to our picnic spot, committing each detail of the little stories she told me to memory.

It’s really a miracle that we fell in love with each other. She’s probably the most extroverted and kind person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Compared to my introverted, somewhat grumpy self, we were quite the peculiar couple.

I remember the dread that would fill me each morning when I would see her red head through the window, bouncing towards the door of the coffee shop I worked at.

She was exuberant, always a little too energetic for me, especially when it was first thing in the morning.

She’d order a peppermint mocha nearly everyday, and when she would come to pick up her drink at the other side of the counter, she would always have a new coffeerelated pickup line ready to fire at me. I would always shoot her down; sometimes I would even ignore her if the store was busy.

It’s not that I didn’t think she was attractive. No, I was actually quite scared at how attracted to her I was. As an immortal being, I had learned to try and avoid any strong attachment to living things. I had watched too many close friends, family, and lovers die to be brave enough to love someone again.

I had tried to keep my distance as long as I could, but before I knew it, she had managed to wriggle past my defenses and I had fallen madly in love with her.

27

When we arrived at our spot under a cherry blossom tree, I laid our blanket over the green grass as she set down our stuff and admired the cloud of pale pink flowers above us. The way the sun shined on her tan face brought an involuntary smile to my face.

My hand fell down into my pocket and I ran my hand over the little velvet box that sat in my pocket as I watched her unpack our food. I remember telling myself that I would propose to her in this exact spot months ago, when the trees were bare and the frigid wind whispered in my ears that it wasn't the right time yet. But now, the flowers have bloomed, spring has sprung, and the soft wind nudged me to get down on one knee.

Once settled down, we ate and talked for hours until the fruit was warm, the sandwiches were cold, and the sun was setting.

She was rambling about some characters in a book she’d been reading while eating strawberries as I stared affectionately down at the red head in my lap, inwardly praising the sun for the magic it did as its golden rays caressed her face.

When I reached to rest my hand against her cheek, she leaned into it while continuing her rambles with a lazy smile. Her brown eyes moved to look straight into my own and in that moment, I knew it was time.

“And his character is so interesting because he’s been known to be the strongest since the day he’s been born so all his life he’s been-” “Amelia,” I said suddenly, interrupting her rant.

“Mhm? Am I rambling too much?”

“No.” “Then what is it?”

28

My breath was caught in my chest next to my pounding heart. I slowly spoke as my other hand snaked down slowly to my pocket. All the pretty words, the speeches that I planned for months disappeared from my mind.

"I… Marry me.” “...What?”

"I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” I took a deep breath as she looked at me in shock.

“Amelia, I think you are perhaps the best thing that’s ever happened to me my whole entire life. Back when you used to send those stupid pickup lines at me, I was in a place where I thought that I could never love again. I was too afraid.

But through these years we’ve spent together, you’ve completely taken over my entire life and I don’t think I can go even 5 seconds without thinking of you.”

I pulled the navy red velvet box out of my pocket and opened it, revealing a beautiful garnet gemstone on a silver ring with a vine pattern on the band.

Her eyes watered and she got up from my lap.

I grabbed her hand. “Keep making happy memories with me until the day you die.

Will you marry me, Amelia?”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and with a wide smile, she said, “Yes. Yes! Of course, yes, Penelope.”

I slipped the ring onto her finger and watched as she held her hand up and admired the ring next to the golden sunset, her red hair glowing in the light of the setting sun and her eyes shining with joy.

She looked back down towards me and held my face in her hands and whispered, “Penelope Liu, my most beautiful fiance, I love you.”

Instead of answering, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against hers.

29

As I turn the open sign around to face the street, my eyes fall to my left hand. I smile fondly at the silver band sitting on my ring finger, the weight of it feeling lighter than it usually does.

A few minutes after sitting behind the counter, the bell attached to the front door jingles and my head shoots up from my phone. My hands still as they reach to slip my phone into my pocket as the new red-headed customer walks in.

"Hi, do you make peppermint mochas here?” she asks.

“Uhm… Yeah. Yeah we do,” I reply dumbly, my mind slow and my hands fumbling as I stare at the new customer.

“Great! Can I get a peppermint mocha and…” She backs up a step and takes a peek at the glass showcase full of fresh treats. “A sandwich?”

I quickly snap out of my stupor, forcing myself to look away from her to punch in her order. My lips twitch a little to smile while putting in the familiar order.

“Yeah. Your total will be $8.50. What’s your name?” I say, grabbing a Sharpie from the cup next to the register. I’m already writing her name before she even answers my question.

“Amelia.”

30

n a n a i a i a h k h a k h h a

y u y u l i u

n a a 31

pain(t) by four a blank canvas on a wooden easel the outlier in a room of vivid colours previous pieces made with the dried hues but never has the “master” been seen a brush dances across the surface a story being told through a picture every stroke permanent, marking its place for there are no mistakes in art, only regrets the result tells everything: either perfect or not a hue or stroke off and it’s a flop the pain of creation will never stop and while it's known, we’ll always continue to suffer

32

jocelyn sutanto

33

catch you in our next issue!

JN BURNETT'S LITERARY MAGAZINE CLUB