2024 Spring Prometheus Unbound

Dear Reader,

Our editors at Prometheus Unbound are proud to announce 2024’s spring publication, featuring the many talented writers, artists, and creators we have here at Landon. This issue includes work from many of your fellow bears, like Rowan Hetherington, Leo Iacovelli, Chris Biabani, and so many more. Personally, it has been an honor working with my fellow editors, Dylan Furbay, our editor-in-chief, Ms. Dragnich, and Mr. Moorin, who have all helped shape Prometheus through the past two years. I sincerely hope that we as younger editors can continue to improve this magazine. As submissions have lightened in recent years, I also encourage all Landon students to submit in the future to make next year ’ s publication even better.

Happy Reading!

Ellis Jones, Editor

Featured Works

Poetry

Ellis Jones '26- Gravity

Jett Pederson '25- Feverish Dissection

Thomas Shelton '24- I'll Find You

Leonardo Iacovelli '26- The Future Macbeth

Rowan Hetherington '26- Life's Changes

Colt Happ ‘27 - Ghost

Prose/Essays/Fiction

Jack Sadow '25- The Boy and the Reaper

Kirtan Buchwald ‘27 - Paradigm

Quinn MacIntyre '25- In Bloom (excerpt)

Chris Biabani ‘25 - A Celebration of Identity

Millen Singh ‘26 - The Early Morning Water

Visual Art

Hugh Neill '24- Georgia

Mikael Fasihi '24- Streets of Singapore

Davis Owens '24- Ella

Mikael Fasihi '24- Constitution Ave

Dhruv Narang '24- Untitled, Cover Page

Editors and Contributors

Editors

Editor in Chief- Dylan Furbay '24

Editors- Tony Gao '24, Yanni Tiimob '24, Gunnar

Small ‘25, Drew Gabron ‘25, Milan Matteis, Ellis

Jones’26

Faculty Advisors

Mr. Dan Moorin

Ms. Dartha Dragnich

Ms. Meredith Josef

Cover art by Dhruv Narang ‘24

Graphic design by Dylan Furbay ‘24

Hugh Neill '24

Pastel Pencil on Paper

Gravity

Ellis Jones '26

Of course, I was unaware, And I was on top of it all, Unaware of the gravity keeping me here, But still, everyone falls.

Egotistical thoughts overwhelming, I knew, I was the call, My lone ship in its helming, But like the sea, everyone falls.

My arrogance compelled me, I was having, such a ball, No idea, what I was to be, But now, everyone falls.

I knew, I spoke my mind, But was I offensive to all? Compelled, I became blind, Cause gravity affects us all.

But then, I was full despise, Finally coming out of my shell, But I never knew all the wise So, like everyone else, I fell.

Mikael Fasihi '24

Photography

Feverish Dissection

Jett Pederson '25

I’m inside but still feel a cold breeze, Through my life, through the night and in the dark. Like the crease in my gown as I lay there still It is tied close to my back but has lost its grip overtime. I’m sand in the hourglass of the indecisive student, Start the timer. Stop. Over again. Do it again. The mask slides off my face, Numb, Needle prick.

I am still here but you can’t see me, Through the sandstorm of my mind. I am displaced, dislocated, disregarded By my legs flying through my head like a folding table But I am still here. Calling out the demented sight of my eyelids and the warm breeze coming through–My gown where the back is tied loosely

Truly, it begins only then. When the voices echo around my cell, When I try my best to yell as they slice and tear me apart

My heart, My heart.

Only then I wake up in a sweat And there is no gown, No breeze or mask

No knots other than the one in my stomach. I grasp desperately at my chest and it's still there, My heart, My heart.

Would I have cared? I’m still in the sandstorm.

I'll Find You

Thomas Shelton '24

Whenthesnowturnstorain

Whentheriverstopstoflow

Whentheicebeginstomelt ’swhenI’llfindyou

Andwhenthefiresburninside andwhenyourbloodbeginstofreeze andwhenyoucan’tholdonanymore

That’swhenI’llfindyou

Whenthecardsareshown andwhenthechipsaredown whenpeoplekickyouwhenyou’redown whocanyoutrust?

Whenyoufreezeinthemoment andwhenit’snotenoughtostay andwhenyou’restuckinlimbo williteverbeenough?

Whenthetablesareturned andwhenthewallsareshattered whenthebricksturntodust

Doesitevenmatter?

Whenyou’relyingthere brokeninside andwhenyoucan’tstandit

You'llask, whydoesitmatter?

ButtimeandagainI’llfindyouthere AndI’llbethereforyou andI’llpickyouup andholdyouclose andcarryyoubackfromtheedge towhereyouoncewere. Andtaketheblowforyou shieldyoufromthem keepthemfromyou andtakeyoufarawayfromthem.

Andthat’swhenI’llfindyou. Andthat’swhereI’llfindyou. Andthat’swhenI’llfindyou, that’swhenI’llfindyou.

Davis Owens '24

Pastel pencil on paper

excerpt from In Bloom

Quinn MacIntyre '25

Now I stand here clear. The flowers on my side. They grew and covered the holes in the walls, patching up the imperfections. Roses, where his blood should be. The vines have covered the floor of this forest. I can see it all so clearly now. The haze of command. A knight completes his quest alone, a soldier the same. So I trudge through this jungle. The vines swinging so as to beckon me. I’m back. No longer a coward.

I now sit in the Woods. Branch in hand, hand on limb, limb on tree. He looks terrified of my branches. Terrified of what I’ve grown into. A life lived in the retrospect of what he's done. Pathetic. The trail of flowers followed me here. But when the gardener prunes the bud too early, there is no beauty to behold. How a miserable gardener could live his life like this is beyond me. Do you understand now? Yes, I do. You see all too clearly. The grass has grown, a blade missing.

The landscape cratered; the playing field leveled. The pestilence of his chemicals. To make the grass grow greener, as but to change it. To see with your eyes closed. To remove your fellow flowers once again. I watch in awe as the ring of roses surrounds him. The all too short life of the rose, thorns along its lining. Red, the color of velvet, the color of blood, the essence of life. A shame, the bud about to be clipped. And now he tries to reason me with me. A sense of hope he thinks I’m giving him. Its useless. His head will soon be in bloom.

NIGHT

Mikael Fasihi '24

Photography

Paradigm

Kirtan Buchwald '27

You always wake up at 6:23 in the morning, although today you slept in for two whole minutes. That is very strange because you are like the rising and setting sun; you ’ ve never slept in, at least not for the 120 years of your life. You are a normal kid in a town called Planton, Wyoming even though it’s small, it’s cozy. You have your group of friends, but you want to see a bigger world and experience more. Your parents deny that idea saying, “What’s wrong with Wyoming? You live in a nice house, with loving parents, a sister, food on the table and a bed to sleep in; your generation is so spoiled.” This realization came to you a couple of days ago as you were doing your daily walk around your garden. You came to a halt when you spotted a flower, yet this flower was… ugly. It did not have the shine of the other roses and lilies. It was turning brown. You hadn’t seen anything of the sort, so you kept on strolling. Ever since that day, your life has felt more open. You seem to be more tentative and observing.

After you unplugged yourself, you got dressed in your suit and sprinted down the stairs to get ready for church. You love church, because you have been told to love it. You have a feeling deep down to love this place, but you don’t know why.

Church was fine, same as always, yet you feel different. Every day is the same, so after church you went to work. You have been assigned the job of patrol officer. This includes maintaining the streets and the people of the town. Not a hard job. It is what you do every day of your life. Today, as you were walking through the streets, you saw your best friend, Alex, yet he is not normal. He seemed upset and unrested. You walked up to him and questioned him about his emotions. “Alex, what’s up, you seem different?”

“Help me, everything is changing, you need to get out…” Before you can comprehend what he was saying, a crowd of people rush past both you and Alex and he is swept away in an ocean of people. What did he mean?

After your work, as you are driving home, you keep thinking about what he said. Get out? From what? How? At the dinner table, you bring up the idea that came to you a couple days ago. “I want to leave Planton.” Your parents stop eating and look up at each other. “You can’t. You have work, and you have many other obligations,” your mom says.

“I know, but I want to take a break. I want to see the world.”

“Take a break,” your mother scoffs. “Nobody has ever taken a break. It’s our job to do what we are assigned.”

“Your mother is right,” your father adds. “Don’t ask ridiculous questions like that.” He blows out the candles and dinner end in a flash. After you take a shower and brush your teeth, you hop in your bed and plug yourself in. Wait, why do you do that? What’s the purpose? You look down at your hand to see where the cord protrudes from. How have you never noticed that? It’s because it is part of the paradigm of every single person in Planton. You wonder if other towns plug themselves in. Before you fall asleep, you call your best friend. On your phone, you are only allowed to call your family and one other person, you chose to have it be Alex. It starts to ring, but a voice starts talking, “He is not available at this moment.” He has always answered, every day that you called he had answered. That night, you think about what he said and how it relates to what your parents said. Why hasn’t anyone else left, and why hasn’t he thought of this earlier? During the session of dream that takes place each night, you experience something different; something realistic. You look around but can’t move. The trees aren’t green like the real world, they have a tinge of brown, it gives you chills. On the left you see some people and you try to yell out, but your mouth won’t move. What is happening, you feel constrained, the air required to breathe is not there. Cloud’s role over the hills of Planton, Wyoming and gray ships appear out of the clouds. They hover over the ground before landing and sending a deep rumble through the earth. You try to run, but a weird being floats closer and closer.

You wake up and you feel sticky. What was that called? Is there a such thing as a bad dream. Your whole life, the dreams had been jolly and calming; however, last night was frightening and realistic. You get up and look at your clock, not 6:23. You look at your wrist, unplugged. The thought of Alex still lingering in your head, you need to find him. You put your coat on and get ready.

You rip your sheets off your bed and tie them together. You look out your window at the two storeys below you. It’s pitch black and you know it will be tough. You throw the rope of sheets out the window and watch them dangle above the concrete. It’s starting to drizzle outside, and the wind is howling. You tie your bed sheet to your bed post and hope that it stays tight. You say a prayer and crawl out your window. Your heart is beating faster and faster, knowing that they are getting closer. Slowly, you climb down making sure to keep your eyes off the ground. Suddenly, your foot slips, but you grab onto the sheet. Eventually you get back on and hit the ground unexpectedly. Your hand stings from the hit and blood drips down your arm. You know the way to Alexs’s house by heart, but it is harder at night. You arrive. His door is wide open, do his parents know about this? You see a trail of blood leading out the door. You decide to follow it. As you follow it, the sun starts to shoot over the horizon steadily. The trail leads to the Church, and as you arrive, the blood disappears before the first step.

He is in there; you don’t know why or what he did. You know all the doors to this church, but you have never been in the basement, at least your parents never let you in. You push the door open and step in front of your so called “Savior.” You go to the stairs leading to the basement and tiptoe down. As you keep going, a light starts to grow brighter, and you hear voices. Alex’s voice. You see him tied up in a machine and standing over him is Officer Jefferson. Alex sees you and secretly directs you over to a box looking thing, the generator of the whole town. This box controlled all the electricity of every house and building. At least you thought it did. You pick up the officer’s baton, grip it tightly in your hand and wack it as hard as you can against his head. He falls to the floor. You free Alex from that machine and ask him what is happening. “TURN IT OFF NOW!” Alex shouts. You look over at the box, run over and jam the lever down. The ground starts to shake but nothing happens. The officer starts screaming as he his skin boils and starts to drip off. “Tell us, tell us the truth now. ”

“Turn it back on please, we will all die, please.”

“Tell us the truth first,” I order.

You don’t understand, or remember, do you? You were very little when it happened, the chaos, the blood, the tears.” Flashes of memory appear in your head, your mother, your father holding you tight, fire and there was the Officer.

“You did it, you killed my real parents, why?!”

“It was the only way. There are others like you, kids without real families,” he says. The dream was real, it was a memory. They came in ships and killed your people, your friends your family. “What was the point of this, why us?”

“Our planet was dying and yours was the last resort. Since ours was significantly smaller than yours, we could fit our population into the size of one of your towns. History has shown that your kind has never blended with ours, but we gave it a try. This was of course hundreds of years ago. We tried, trust me. Finally, we took over. There were many things we needed to do, to plug into your system. We kept it secret and undercover from the outside world. This is why no one leaves. We kept the young children but got rid of humans with enough memory to cause a problem. Your friends were all there but didn’t remember. We were warned that our time on this planet would be limited due to something called climate change. We had to adapt to this place and erase the memories of the young kids. We plugged a serum into your blood that erased your past memory and filled it with fantasy. Happy thoughts. It would only be a matter of time before others like the Officer came. It was up to you and Alex to save your friends, but it would be a challenge. “I know where they keep the

weapons, ” Alex states. Hundreds of guns, swords, rockets potions and other Machines. The killing, the lying all of it came from lust. You suit up in your armor and walk outside into the golden sunlight. You could hear the screaming of every alien in the town, getting louder and louder. In the distance an ocean of Aliens was getting closer to you and your partner, Alex. This was the time, time to get revenge on your family. It was up to you to save this town and expose these monsters of their massacre. You both start running as your scream your lungs out, “THIS IS PLANTONNNNN!”

The Future Macbeth

Leonardo Iacovelli '26

The dodo’s mind matures with fear/and the owl’s knowledge should not be revered./If an owl survives the rising of age,/his sins could not infect him; he beat time’s rage./ The bird flies to the sun ’ s blare/ and humans run from death’s glare.

Point is both cannot last,/but light creates life, while darkness can harass./Light in darkness shapes our love/but scintillating blasts put an end to doves./The blast of a gun ends a poor soul /and the boom of a bomb spills blood on the floor./Nature forges blood to give souls a life/but humans exploit and destroy in strife./The barefoot do not fear those with shoes/but kings and rulers fear all those with views./Although, rich’s power does not come from good;/it comes not from all that it should./Instead, it comes from evil and hate,/the power that richness perpetuates/the power that fuels human greed/which purely causes madness, blindness, and deeds./These deeds cannot be repaid/as they involve killing and murder in vain. The oceans of Neptune and springs of Demeter/

could never wash the sins of the cheater.

The sins of the cheater are worst of all;/they betray mothers and cause all to appall./The sins of the liar shape the worst fate;/carrying misfortune until god’s gate./The sins of the stealer cause impecuniosity;/causing the host to go mad penuriously./All these sins cause madness and guilt/which, if enough, allows one to tilt./How would they tilt? Some may say,/fear for the very thing to which they pray.

They pray to spirits, or things above,/they pray to abnormalities or for lack thereof;/they pray to lords, kings, queens;/they pray to witches and mere men built from smithereens./They pray for riches, gold, and power/whilst darkness and fear can slowly devour.

Devour the world, the concept of good/which humans have lost and misunderstood./Good is a pure oral myth told since Greece,/Athens, and Sparta were never at peace./Good and kind is based all on perspective/whilst killings and wars are seen as corrective. What purpose does ending lives have I say/you

are not God or some careless fate./ Why have humans evolved to be beasts/born to rid the world from feasts/and replace feasts with feasts for the dead/feasting on death and brutal bloodshed/feasting on things that one may fear most

All hidden in the darkness of night/their corruption and spite/spite of people who follow the rules/spite of all who fail to amuse./Amuse what? The world, you?/They amuse in their own way; following the old ways, not the anew./

The sinners now plead their indiscretion/in court where they will pay a lesson./They cry as their lives crumble/but they killed a young child with mumbles./Technology was invented by a tinker/and now we kill with the tap of a finger.

Life's Changes

Rowan Hetherington '26

“Streets of Singapore"

Mikael Fasihi '24

Photography

A Celebration of Identity

Chris Biabani '25

As the holidays approach, and I start seeing decorations outside of people’s houses, I think about the ways I celebrate my cultural background. I was raised by an Iranian father and an Irish-Italian mother. My relatives are from all over the world and practice different religions, including Catholicism, Islam, and Buddhism.

We celebrate many holidays, from Christmas to Nowruz (“new day”), the Persian New Year. For Christmas, we have lights inside and outside the house. But when I celebrate Iranian traditions with my family, we largely do so behind closed doors. During these holiday celebrations, we are not decorating our house with Middle Eastern symbols, though we could, just as we do for Christmas. But I wonder: by not broadly sharing our full selves, are we stifling our identities and diluting our embrace of our Middle Eastern culture?

My Iranian father, who spoke Farsi at home, was born in Pakistan and moved to the United States as a child. He and his parents were deported during the Iranian Revolution and

returned to the United States when he was a teenager. When I was growing up, my father would share how difficult it was for him and his family to fit into the culture of the United States after the Iranian Revolution. Those same feelings of otherness have come back to haunt him and my grandparents in recent years with the stereotypes people in the United States have about the Middle East.

Hearing about my father’s struggles has opened my eyes to the facades we all live behind to be accepted. I too have struggled with feeling safe enough to be my full self in my own community. In certain settings, I have felt nervous to talk about my Persian holiday celebrations. Like my father, I have felt worried that this would push people away.

But I have become more comfortable in recent months. This is because I have invited friends over to enjoy Iranian dishes that my grandmother cooks for us, and my grandparents have shared stories with them about their lives in Iran before the Iranian Revolution. Stepping into the discomfort of being seen and then feeling okay, and even supported by my friends, has softened the walls that I had up when I started high school.

I believe the facades many of us hide behind can

fall away when we feel safe enough to share more of ourselves with other people. I know that I have been lucky to find people willing to make me feel that way. By sharing the dimensions of my background, I hope I can encourage others to do the same, embracing our full identities and building empathy and appreciation for each other.

The Early Morning Water

Millen Singh '26

It all started September 6th, around 9:06 P.M, when I was thinking about water polo. I had missed the morning practice that we had on that Tuesday because I did not have a ride, but I never asked for one. My mind ached from just the thought of leaving my house at 6:15 A.M. just to swim some laps. Those are two things that I am not very fond of, waking up early and swimming. Honestly, I was quite frightened thinking about how cold the water would be, the length of the practice, and how tired I would be before my first period even started. I thought about all these negatives, but never looked at the positives from making a habit of waking up early and working hard to push myself to new limits. I decided that night to ask if my mom could take me tomorrow morning to practice, and she said yes. Now I was even more frightened because I was expecting her to just say no. So that night, I headed to bed, laid out my clothes for the next day, and got a solid three hours, forty-two minutes, and three seconds of sleep. My alarm went off and I could barely even get out of my bed. I got dressed with my eyes half-shut and slugged my way down and into the car.

As we were driving through the dark morning towards Landon, I thought to myself, “How bad could it really be?” I got to the locker room and quickly changed into my tropical swimsuit and headed out to the pool. I saw everyone already swimming laps, so I put my towel into the shed, took off my slides, and headed to the edge of the pool. All my friends in the pool already were talking about how cold it was, and splashing me, so I hopped in. It was cold, but it was weird. It felt good to jump into the glistening blue pool with steam coming out of the top at that time of day. We continued with the tough but fun workout, and I loved it. I kept a positive mindset the second I stepped out of that car, and it made me look at all the positives that were happening. I was in a nice, somewhat heated pool just swimming. After the workout ended, I was hungry, but wide awake and refreshed from the workout. I took a quick shower in the locker room, got changed, and got ready for school. When I walked out the door of the locker room, I saw a box filled with bagels and breakfast, I could not have been happier. I ate my bagel and orange juice and headed to class with more energy than I’ve ever had to learn about The Marrow Thieves. I try my best to be positive no matter the situation, whether I am holding the door for people, or greeting people in the hallways. From now on, I will always look at the heated Dixon Pool as half full instead of half empty.

Ghost

Colt

Happ

'27

I could see him

The snowman was looking straight at me

I could see him

I could feel the cold

I could picture the snow

It's like the snow never disappeared

It’s like he never disappeared

He was just sitting outside

Where he used to be every winter

But this one he never came back

It’s like he was growing up with me

A symbol of my childhood that fades

Like the snow on a sunny day

The rocks on his smile looked like a frown

As if you forgot about him.