Unity
by The Magnificat Art Club
Magazine Staff
Yasmine Samara
Ella Evanchick
Ella Smith
Alyn Trotter
Chloe Pisanelli
Angela D'Souza
Macy Stipanovich
MacKenzie McConville
Jade Essenburg
Kathryn Dunn
Cover Art
"Unity" created for the magazine by The Magnificat Art Club
Moderators
Mrs Luli and Mrs Hamm
One More Tear to Cry by Chelsea Kacinari '24
Too Young by Aishatu Suso '23
Mocking by Olive Kimbrell '23
Dark Tones by Finley McNamee ’24
It was 1986 by Violet Kubiak ’26
Bitter by Yasmine Samara ’23
The Meaning of Life by Mya Collins ’24
Lighthearted by Anonymous
City of Sunsets by Caitlyn Castro ’26
Dream by Anonymous
Thoughts by Lauren Jakyma ’23
Drowning in Waves of Fear by Jane McGinley ’23
Self-Love by G Eink ’24
Haiku by Shahed Abukalil ’25
The Muses by Nora Mooney ’25
Metamorphosis by Kristina Telban ’23
Humorous by Lindsay Farrall ’23
Urgent by Mairin Fitzpatrick ’23
The February Issue by Marie Armsworthy ’24
Peaceful by Cailyn Walrod ’23
Zealous by Anonymous ’23
For the Love of Stars by Jade Essenburg ’23 and Corinne Kostka ’23
Hollow by Kendall Sak ’23
Somber by Tsithembile Tembo ’23
Severe by Christina Krncevic ’23
Devastated by Lauren Millard ’23
Day by Day by Lacey White ’24
Fire and Water by Lacey White ’24
Mocking by Anonymous
Halloween Poem by Corinne Kostka ’23 & Halloween Poem by Ava Shannon ’23
Wolfboy’s Lament by Jade Essenburg ’23
Electric by Aurelia Igielinski ’23
Ominous by Anonymous
Solemn by Lauren Overberger ’23
Light Gate by Sarah Celestina ’24
Memory Lane by Anonymous
Too young, that is what they are. They are just kids; let them play, joke, run, laugh, watch shows, have candy, and dress up. Too young, that is what they are.
We are the same age, so why am I different?
They do not need to learn about racism, Yet I experience it
They should not know about the N-word, Yet I am called it
Trust me; they are aware of my skin
They are the ones pointing it out Trust me; they can see my hair
They are the ones grabbing it and calling it weird
They are just kids; they don't know what they are saying But I know very well
They are just kids, but so am I
They are prioritized while my problems are pushed aside like dust under a rug.
If I understand their words, why don't they? When I encounter these words, why aren’t I too young? I want to partake in playing, joking, and fun, But instead, I get called names, followed, and harassed
We are the same age. They are too young, but not me. We are the same age, So what makes them Too Young but not me?
My friends are comedians, and I’m one of their best acts They puff their cheeks and tuck their chins and hunch their straightened backs; it’s all in good fun: come on now, everybody knows Don’t deny your audience: that’s just how showbiz goes
It’s funny when I sit, you see, hilarious when I stand; humorous when I trip and fall and comical when I land Entertaining are my words, and silly is my pain; gut-busting is my body, and side-splitting is my brain
If you laugh right with them, they will surely do no worse I entertain a willful stain: at least someone enjoys this curse; maybe I’m disgusting, but disgusting is good for laughs To be liked and respected, let's settle for half
This is what you settle for when skin abounds this way This is how you cope with nasty, withering vertebrae Leave the tears in bathroom stalls, and resume the stand-up scene
It’s not mocking if I give you full creative liberty
It’s amusing when I sneeze and cough and talk and be and breathe; the laughter echoes in the room; it’s louder when I leave Riotous when I raise my hand, uproarious if I cry; it’s funny because I’m living; it’d be funnier if I died
It was 1986 And everything was good
Neon was in fashion, Walkmans were all the rage The good-for-nothing computer that Dad used for work, now held a journey across the frontier with revolutionary 8-bit graphics It was a good, simple, exciting time to be a kid
During all this, there was something still that captivated everyone’s minds more than Oregon Trail, more than leg warmers and insane bangs It was the phenomenon that had continued for thousands of years, something that would continue for thousands more It was the green light that streaked across the sky, the thing that marked the passage of time in terms of the average lifespan The words on everyone's lips: Halley’s Comet
Adelaide could feel the power that this mass of ice and dust was, though she was too young to understand what the power meant She knew that you could buy Halley’s Comet gummies, lunch boxes, toys, and t-shirts That must amount to something She knew that from the start of the year, her parents tracked the days until it would hit on the calendar in her kitchen She knew that every night, her older brother, Sam, poured over science books, learning the facts and numbers until he fell asleep, glasses drooping over his freckled face This could not be any ordinary thing, could it? Adelaide wondered in her 5-year-old mind
The day, February 6th, came after a long wait, yet at the same time, it came all at once, completely unanticipated The day was quiet, it felt like no one could speak or they’d break the spell The little girl sat in the kitchen with her mom and watched the news on the tiny TV Hoards of people traveled to the spot with the best vantage point, and scientists prepared their tools and gadgets, hoping to make scientific history in the manner of seconds when they’d see the celestial object Tons of tiny little people looked to the stars
The day crept along quietly and came to a cold, crisp night The air was biting and the wind was present, soft and whispering Adelaide put on her new purple coat that she loved so, tugged on her clunky old boots that used to be her brother’s, and slid on ratty gloves made by a mother untalented in the field of knitting Sam did the same while spouting his facts on space, facts that no one had the patience for Her dad grabbed her little hand, and one of her brother’s, and they walked outside She ran across the street, shouting to her dad that she could see the sky better And she could, Adelaide could see the whole night sky, wide and unending, mysterious and haunting
The deep blue above her was overwhelming, and the stars seemed so far away from her little hands Soft, slow breathing filled the silent air, and the anticipation grew And then - in an instant - it was!
The sky was green and streaked with gold The ancient object obliterated all other sights and sounds Life seemed to cease and you could only breathe without sound The green dagger ripped through the night sky like it was an ancient silk tapestry of dark blues and blacks Sometimes, slowly falling asleep at night, Adelaide could still see it, a streak across the darkness of the back of her eyelids And, oh, the sound! - it sounded like the airshow she saw last summer, and it sounded like the mighty roar of a lion, and it sounded like the comet was screaming!
For a long time, watching the awe and glory of the comet, she hadn’t noticed her family When Adelaide turned to look at them, she glanced at her older brother first The science book that he had brought along was dropped on the pavement at his feet His eyes were filled with wonder, and his jaw dropped His whole self seemed to be exploding at the sight of this thing He seemed to realize what his father had said at the dinner table the night before - “When you see it, son, you’ll realize it’s so much more than the facts you know and the books you read Those words are just things we use to explain it, they aren’t real They are things on our terms, numbers, and letters The universe has different terms ”
It sounded like nonsense to a 5-year-old mind, but Sam now seemed to understand
Adelaide turned her gaze to her father He had tears in his eyes and they glistened in the comet’s green light The little girl had never seen her father cry She stared at him, missing the last bits of the comet as it descended over the horizon When it was gone, he turned to her, noticing that she was staring at him
Her father wiped his tears and said, "Next time this comes around, you’ll see it And I won’t be here,”
She looked at her father, crying She looked at her mother washing dishes through the warm glow of the kitchen in the window She looked at the vast empty sky, shed one tear, and breathed deeply in the crisp night air
---
It was 2061 And everything was different
America was in its slow, continual collapse Per usual
Gas was 10 dollars a gallon, and the “1 percent” was now the 00001 percent Everyone else was poor or just getting there The stores that were once common, Target, Walgreens, and Marshall’s, had all died out or been bought out - by Walmart It became the place where everyone got anything and everything, and none of it lasted very long It was all plastic and cheaply manufactured by factories with absolutely no labor laws
In the midst of all this, the comet was slowly making its way back toward visibility This time was not going to be like last time Halley’s comet wasn’t the biggest thing, it was a 2-minute snippet between breaking news of presidential fraud or a new war that the country decided to fight Some planned to stream it live on YouTube from the safe, warm indoors The frenzy that this mystical occurrence had put the world in for centuries was over, replaced by the detached, cold blue light of a screen
During all things, all the twisted history that the world had created since the last Halley’s Comet, Adelaide had grown old And oh had her life been full! It was so disparaging to think about the memories, yet she knew that she had often spent her time being happy The last time the comet came around, she would not have understood the way those contradictions could work, but at 80 years old, she understood, because she had lived it
Her desperate attempts to pull the family together to watch the comet had been futile The children had their own families and spread themselves throughout the country Her husband, Jacob, had died long ago, a heart attack at 47 His love felt like another life, it must have happened to another person Adelaide thought then to her young widowed self because back then she never would have imagined she could feel that way now Sam, her only sibling, was alive and dying at old folks home nearby He had lived with Adelaide until the Alzheimers became too much Watching the comet would go from nostalgic to depressing watching with him, for he couldn’t even remember the first time it had passed
The day, July 28, came and went all too quickly Unlike her 5-year-old self, Adelaide wished the day would drag on a little longer, the comet would pass much later Her whole life, in the back of her mind, she had been waiting for this And when it passed, oh! How old she would feel! How sad and forgotten she would be! Her life would have been bookended by the comet Nevertheless, the Universe ignored Adelaide’s wishes, and dusk fell all at once
She hobbled outside, slowly She wasn’t about to break a hip and miss the cosmic coincidence From her sidewalk, its cracks, with moss and dandelions spilling outward, she could barely see over the trees The light gold and gray of dusk shone faintly over the canopy Feeling like a child again, she made her way across the street and stood in front of her neighbor’s house
She could hear in the back of her mind a child’s voice saying, “Over here, Daddy! The whole sky is over here!”
Adelaide shook her head at the same old sky, feeling a tired old laugh rise from her broken throat It had never changed - it was still the same as that night It was more than a person could think about or live under, it was so deep and misunderstood It was the purest blue, yet it contained sinister undertones Its young, fresh beauty seemed to cry to her, “Look at yourself, you old fool! You, with your wrinkles and aching bones I watched you from a young child to here, and I never grew old!”
Its song silenced, and suddenly the soft grass began to tease Adelaide’s feet, taunting them until she just had to kick off her ratty slippers in a fit of rejuvenation Tears sprung to her eyes when she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she walked outside barefoot Then the ground began to beckon to her, calling out her name, inviting her to rest herself on it She knew logically she might never get up again if she laid down on the ground, but its pleading became too much Her old bones heaved themselves downward and rested in a lopsided pile on the ground It was the youngest she’d felt in a long time
And then she looked up Adelaide felt as though the sapphire sky was enveloping her, taking her off to a mysterious place It felt like a bottomless ocean above her, strange creatures lurking beyond the surface Though in this tranquil trance, she still could feel the faint hint of anticipation rising It began to grow inside her, like a parasite It ate her up, from her stomach to her throat, until it reached her eyes when they saw
Halley’s Comet came streaking past the sky The faint green pierced her eyes Its life and light after all this time were unbelievable And the sound, oh, it took her back to her childhood It took her back to her first viewing of the Lion King when it came out when the robust roaring shook her ears It took her back to her wedding day when the pale white fabric of her dress caught on a door and slashedthe sound of stitches ripping Suddenly, she felt a hand in hers Her father was beside her, lying on the ground with her, and her brother was on the other side How young they look, Adelaide thought, gazing over She looked at her own hands, intertwined with theirs, and they were somehow without their liver spots, without their wrinkles and rips She moved to her torso and felt the soft cotton of what was her favorite mulberry coat Then, her father’s voice boomed above the sound of the magic orbital object
Her father wiped his tears and said, “Next time this comes around, you’ll see it again I won’t be here,”
Sobbing racked her body It heaved in a way it hadn’t in a long time Old age had brought the dulling of her emotions, it had brought a horrible quiet for years But then, here it was again, all at once! It was everything she hadn’t felt in years It was everything she used to be but wasn’t It was every tear she hadn’t thought to shed It was Halley’s Comet, as it descended over the treeline for another 75 years
Again and again, she brings awareness to the suffering of her people.
“I have never heard about this issue before!”
“Aren’t you scared to go back?”
“Why doesn’t your family just move here?”
Her mind blanks, just like a fresh sheet of paper. It sounds light on another’s tongue, so simple.
A generational oppression that simply goes over many’s heads
Forgotten or left in the dark, Disregarded and dismissed, Excused and argued.
Yet, injustice continues to be a lived experience for her.
What she would give to have such a level of ignorance and freedom.
What she would give to take back memories of hurt, fear, and violence.
What she would give to have her family free – her country free
She feels the weight of her people on her shoulders like a boulder
She feels responsible to educate, clarify, and open old wounds for the sake of education
Though speaking about her lived experience motivates her, On days like these, she wishes for an ounce of ignorance
A weight off her shoulders
A glance, a romance, your first chance
You lock eyes
You hold a breath
Your heart has but one request
A skip, a step, a run, a hop
A beat is light
A beat is soft
Their eyes have made your beating stop
A whisper of their name and your ears, they perk A brush of a hand holds much worth
You want, you long for palms to touch
You hope and pull for a word of such
A day has gone but press on your heart they still do You hope and pray, “will I see them today?”
You go to a store and hope they’re there
You share your shame and pray they care
Puppy love it may be
“But now you belong to me
My heart still flutters and my tummy still aches
But now my heart is yours to break”
by Caitlyn Castro '26
Today, I had another dream about the sky I was flying among the clouds They felt like fresh powdered snow, but there was no cold I could see the stars as they twinkled and danced Then, I woke up to the harsh blast of my alarm It was a typical day of waking up and going to school The bus driver left me on the bus, wishing me a good day I wished that were true As always, I walk down the hall and take a left toward my locker A blue, skinny locker that can fit my books on the bottom but cannot fit a backpack Grabbing the books for the morning classes, I sit on the floor and look at the day I sit with the cold wall at my back People pass me by, probably staring, but who cares? I talk with no one; when acknowledged with a simple nod, I am polite and return the gesture
I sit with strangers and peers in science, as with history, math, and religion All I can do is daydream about flying in that blue abyss of the sky Finally, it was time for lunch, and I did not know how long I could go before I started chewing on the cold pencils found at the bottom of my backpack I had packed a lovely lunch and looked to find a seat in the crowded area There I spot it, a place perfect for me There was one seat and one table, at which there was only enough room for me It was hard to find a good seat like that because many people sat with their friends They would try to fit everything with them at their small table; to be frank, they would be better off finding a group table. Alone, I sit in the comfort of music before I have to give up on my studies. One more class before it's time to go home.
I listen to the tick, tick, ticking of my watch on my arm. So close yet so far, the days, repeating and repeating. When I am home, I do nothing. I'm just waiting for dinner so that I may dream. Time flies when I sit in the middle of the floor watching TV. The show interests me, but I'd rather do my hobbies. I just do not have the energy to get off my floor and do something that makes me happy. Mom comes home, and I help with dinner and eventually the clean-up. Teeth brushed, books packed, pj's on, and the lights turned off. I may be dreaming next. Will I be a police officer on a cold case trying to save a princess? Maybe I will be flying again. Though I will be dreaming again soon. Eventually, I will have to wake up, which is the worst part of the day. I wish to be free in the world of my dreams. When you dream, you are set free.
“I saw this and it reminded me of you!” the flash across my screen read, bearing a blurred snapshot of a lonely daisy struggling to thrive through a crack in the concrete.
“I thought you would love this!” she merrily chirped as she sat, presenting a crinkled brown bag in it, a postcard’s summer scene shines a fold in the upper corner.
“I think this could make you smile! the song began with the speaker strumming an acoustic guitar a somber voice sang of romantic love a feeling that seems abstract to me
“I found this, and I knew I had to show you!” he proudly explained as he clicked, displaying a low-quality photo album images of our childhood flash by a trove of memories forgotten
For years, the ocean represented excitement, adventure, life, and a place of peacefulness I grew up in California, so I was destined to love the water As a child, I was always jumping into any pool or lake I could find, and of course the ocean I was looking for any place where I could swim and splash around I felt comfort in the water and seized every opportunity to be surrounded by it However, this changed for me on March 2, 2008 A date that I will never forget It was the day that water no longer brought me joy
My parents wanted me to be comfortable in the water At the very young age of 14, they registered me in a Red Cross lifeguard class The training was challenging and rigorous, but I liked it because I was in the water A place I felt most comfortable I was the youngest lifeguard at the Santa Clara community pool I noticed some guests giving me strange looks as if they questioned if I was capable of doing my job It did not take long before they trusted me During my first two days on the job, I performed two rescues at the pool I was considered the strongest swimmer of all of the guards In my mind, there was no situation in the water that I could not handle
On my eighteenth birthday, my parents took me to Hawaii for a surfing trip My father loved to surf and he and I had “caught waves” at least once a week since I was fifteen My parents knew that my dream was to surf in Hawaii When they told me that we were flying to Hawaii for a surfing trip for my birthday, I was ecstatic It was the best birthday gift ever I got my board ready and even bought a new wetsuit
On our first day of the trip, we surfed at a popular spot for tourists It was fun, but I was looking for something more challenging I begged my parents to take me to Hamptons Beach: a favorite of the local surfers After much pleading, my parents agreed The following day, we arrived at Hamptons Beach at 6:00 a m , hoping to beat the others I was looking for that perfect wave My dad and I found some good waves and had lots of success catching them I encouraged my dad to swim out a little farther, thinking that we would find my perfect wave He reluctantly agreed It was only a few minutes before I found a huge wage. I never saw anything like it, and I thought this was great until I realized it wasn't.
As I clasped my board to ride the wave, I was suddenly sucked under the water. I used my strength to get above water and immediately began yelling for my dad. I could not see him, and he did not respond to my cries for help. I was sucked under again but pulled myself up. My first thought was: thank goodness my parents enrolled me in Red Cross lifeguarding lessons. I struggled for over 40 minutes to keep my head above water, screaming for help and frantically looking for my dad, or anyone. Those 40 minutes seemed like four days; I was terrified. I felt like I was in an ocean-sized washing machine stuck on the spin cycle, spinning around in dark water. I remember thinking: I have no breaths left as I pulled in tiny sips of air, with no time to exhale. I bargained with God, saying that if he got me out of this mess I would never surf again. I cried, thinking that I would never see my parents again. I sang, hoping it would distract me from the situation. And then I realized that the place that brought me so much excitement and peace would mostly be the place that brought me death.
As I tried to float on my back and think of happy memories, I heard a faint voice I thought that I imagined it, questioning that maybe I had become delirious Then, I felt a hand grab my arm and heard a man say, "My name is Josh, I am a lifeguard and I will get you back to shore " Using the techniques that I had learned at a young age, Josh took me back to shore When we arrived, Josh and I were both exhausted However, this did not stop me from sprinting to my parents, who were waiting on shore The three of us embraced for what seemed like hours and just cried
After March 3, 2008, I was terrified to return to the water Knowing how much I loved the water, my parents and friends encouraged me to swim, even if that meant in a pool or a lake I refused because water now represented death to me About five years after the "incident," I went to the ocean for a family picnic I told my parents beforehand that I did not intend to go into the water; instead, I would sit on a blanket and read a book As I enjoyed my book, I heard a scream from a young girl I sat up and noticed a young girl struggling in the water I ran towards the water and screamed for help, but nobody heard me and there was no lifeguard in sight My lifeguard instincts took over and I swam out to the girl and pulled her to shore As I rested the girl on the beach, my parents came running over, with looks of shock and concern on their faces They asked me if I was okay I replied, "I am fine I am no longer scared, I am no longer drowning " The water had finally returned to a place of excitement and joy for me
I love a lot of things
I love a lot of places
I love wearing gold and silver rings
I love switching the color of my rubber-banded braces
I love my mom
I love my dad
I love eating popcorn while watching rom-coms
I love writing on my new pink notepad
One thing I do not love
Is the letter at the beginning of all of those sentences
I don't love I
I know what you're going to say
Self-love is important
You can't love anyone else until you love yourself
I don't think that is true
I love a lot of things
A lot of places
A lot of people
I fully and completely love them
Just because I am not on the list of the things I love doesn't mean I can't love anything else
Because I do
I do love other things other places other people
I am just not included
You may ask why
I’m not exactly sure
I love a lot of things about myself
My hair is the perfect color
I have a good sense of style
My fingernails are the perfect length
My nose is in the perfect spot on my face
I am a good person
I am a good person
Self-love
Self-hate
End the Occupation
It is not a clash if one side has all the guns, and the other prays.
Be Human
You do not need to be Muslim to stand for Gaza, just be a human.
Where is Humanity
Where is humanity?
When justice is our demand, Palestine is our land
The Genocide
It is not a war
It is ethnic cleansing
It is genocide
by Kristina Telban '23
I could tell a story of woe, one of strife, sickness, all things serious, or maybe I’ll write a tale just so that every reader will rethink their thoughts and have their lives changed by the words my poem will bestow
Or maybe I could describe a tale about the comical life of a man called Joe I’ll make my audience laugh and write a humorous poem– something upbeat and uptempo
Because why would I dismay readers with sober stories such as the one with Juliet and Romeo? I’m no Shakespeare, yet even he had a comedic touch, and a funny bone can be found anywhere you go
Humor is hard to come across yet even harder to forgo, but in this poem there will be no threat of shadow only a reflection on the subject of satire, and its necessity to be shown
Like the air we breathe, humor is all around us: left, right, high, low, hiding in the bleak darkness
Yet comedy always shines through in a colorful glow because with every cry comes a laugh and laughter is the best medicine, don’t you know?
Monday
I am assigned this poem With my word, Urgent
The poem is due in two days
So yeah, urgent
Tuesday The poem is due tomorrow
I’ve written nothing I know what I wish to write
But I have yet to put pen to paper I work Tuesday night too
This project gnaws at my mind A constant pulse in the back of my head I begin writing I write about the project I write with urgency
Wednesday Now, I need to present I speak quickly Building tension with my words
I finish my poem, And realize one thing I still need to buy Christmas gifts True urgency.
by Marie Armsworthy '24
The perfect day:
One that makes time evaporate like puddles of leftover rain
On a smoldering summer afternoon
One that forces unconscious smiles that make your cheeks burn with infinite laughter that rings in ears for hours on end
One that makes your limbs feel light and compels worries and troubles to take an extended vacation: These days I live for
The simple autumnal strolls under the mellow sun with my mom as my dog races through emerald blades of grass
The one A M phone calls with a friend when the latest news is the only thing we can possibly concern ourselves with The long car rides with my brother that sing tunes of rarely discovered sibling harmony: These are the moments I savor, the ones I constantly wholeheartedly crave
I find perfect serenity in these kinds of days These kinds of experiences
When I am so totally consumed in utter tranquility when all other aspects of my life fade into the distant recesses of my mind And forgotten are the heavy, exhaustive expectations and to-do lists These are the days, my days, of pure, unaltered beauty
I can admit one thing to be completely, indefinitely true: The unexpected, never-promised moments of flawless happiness is where my peace is found
passion lost; something once loved the feeling of freedom, accomplishment, belonging all lost, not forgotten
the zeal of what was once the breath of fresh air in my smokey day: gone gone like the leaves flying by on the windy fall days that I wish would come back
what once i devout my time, my life the feeling of zeal that could give me so much joy,
but still cut deep like a knife it’s cruel what little things can do that destroy
i wish to turn back time, back to my youth if only as simple as turning a handle,
the things loved; the things that gave purpose a child who was once zealous, now just the shell of what once was wishing every day something would again compel me only starting to wonder if there is anyone who even hears us
what once was so filling, now only leaves me completely and fully drained
constantly going from one to another i wish i could start again, back when my life was still unframed
Andy was always a lonely man He spent all of his days working a sad, lonely job at the local fish cannery in his hometown Then, he spent his nights on the roof of his mother’s house, drink in hand, staring longingly at the night sky
Andy wanted to be an astronaut when he was younger He’d always loved space, the stars, and the endless vastness of the sky God, he truly loved it He yearned for it more than anything else in the world Where humans failed him, the stars would cherish and fulfill him He longed for the embrace of the night
One day, like any other, Andy woke up
Andy had only gotten about an hour of sleep, but it did not matter to him Stretching and yawning, he got up and lazily made his way to the bathroom Glumly, he went through his morning routine: brushing his teeth and taking a careless shower He didn’t bother to brush his hair or make sure he looked presentable He was about to go to work a nine-hour shift and come home smelling like a cat’s daydream, so what was the point of putting all that work in? Finally, Andy dressed for the day in a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a sweatshirt from college Andy’s sweatshirt came from a college that he was forced to drop out of when his mother got sick He finished his morning routine, shuffled out of his room, and crossed the hall to his mother’s room
“Mom? I’m headed off to work Gonna stop at the store later, do you need anything?” He called through the door, not expecting an answer She rarely, if ever, answered him this early Usually, she was resting When she didn't respond, he shrugged, pulled on his shoes, and walked out the door
Nine hours of the same tedium, prepping fish to be forced into cans and shipped off to who knows where Grab Chop Push aside Repeat The monotony left Andy’s hard-working right shoulder and wrist aching in pain The only interruption was a half-hour lunch break to eat a meager lunch of bread, cheese, and some canned fish When Andy’s shift ended, he left the building and began his stroll home He stopped at the grocery store by his work, grabbing only a cheap microwave dinner for himself and some drinks Then, he focused on getting home, checking on his mom, and getting to his place on the roof
When Andy got home, he kicked off his shoes and went to the kitchen His mom barely glanced up at him from the pile of envelopes in her hands Probably bills, he thought to himself but did not say aloud He slipped his drinks into the fridge and began to microwave his dinner
“I wish you wouldn’t drink Your father drank Look at where that got him,” yelled his mother from the bedroom, which cut through the quiet calm of the kitchen
“Mom, don’t make me deal with this right now Please ”
She didn’t reply, only sighed
Andy grabbed a drink and left the kitchen, forgetting all about the so-called “meatloaf” in the microwave He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, shucked off his work clothes, changed into his simple pajamas, and climbed out onto the roof
He cracked open the drink and began to drink
“Look, if there’s” he paused, “if there is anything out there that can hear me, I just,” he paused again,
“I need help,” Andy spoke, miserably
“I can’t keep going on like this Mom needs someone to take care of her I can’t afford to take care of us both, and I can’t keep working that job I’m so tired of smelling like fish stink Just like,” he contemplated, “God or whatever if you’re there, can you just please lend me a hand or something?”
“Okay, Andy,” spoke a voice behind him
Andy turned towards the voice, startled, and there, he saw HER His eyes widened at the sight of her She was indescribable
“I am your fairy godmother What would you like to wish for?” The woman said, her voice soft and soothing
How much did I have to drink today? Andy thought That is all he remembered The next morning his life turned around A business that Andy applied to finally called him back, giving him the news that he had the job As soon as he got the call, Andy resigned from his job at the fish cannery The new position was no astronaut job, but it would do His mother got out of bed for the first time in months She made a home-cooked meal, Andy’s personal favorite, to celebrate his new job Things were starting to look up Andy’s mood was less gloomy He smiled more His mother started to regain some of her strength and was out of bed much more often His new job was wonderful Andy even met a girl at his new place of work, whom he asked out on a date
A year passed and Andy was a new man who now took pride in his appearance He excelled at his new job and even got a promotion His mother was doing much better, and Andy could afford to get her a live-in nurse for a little while As for the woman at his work, she and Andy had been in love for months now He no longer felt the need to sulk alone on the roof with a drink Instead, Andy and his girlfriend lie on the roof together and watch the stars go by His life drastically improved, all thanks to a true cry for help responded by his fairy godmother
like a tree, i stand tall. hearty, hale, hospitable, a resting place for life coming and going, ebbing and flowing.
my limbs reach out to carry it all.
happiness flows within me. overflowing with vibrance and amiability, in the midst of this barren, stark space, i stand as me, as tall as a tree.
you must have seen my shine, my compassion, existing freely in a forest of people, most dull for my strength was something no small bush could fashion no time, space, ability in this wasteland for my foundation to be rationed
yet, i met you and gave a little shared pieces and parts of my personality and pride thoughts of you infested like a disease inside, and i became a mere shell, eerily brittle
i still stand like a tree, like me but my roots have retracted, and my limbs have grown weak haunted, harrowed, hollowed by you, i’ll dwell, hurt in this graveyard of many
Death is everywhere. He cares for nothing, And spares no one A day will come when all will face, The ever-waiting death.
Even when winter changes to spring Even when summer changes to autumn Even when autumn changes to winter Death is everywhere.
Even when the rain is pouring Even when the sun is shining Even when the snow is falling He cares for nothing
A time will come When Death welcomes each With a patient smile on his face
It does not matter Man or Woman, Rich or Poor, Death is Waiting
elbow deep in a body cavity, massaging a static heart, the piercing sound of the monitor swells in my ears, the OR is silent otherwise.
my heart palpitates, forehead sweats, and hands shake. i am holding a human life in my hands.
i lose my grip, and it slips away.
i struggle to let go, both my mind and hands cling to entity. “time of death: 13:04.”
“we did everything we could,” thats what I keep telling myself. thats what I tell the family but its too much but they didn’t make it we did everything we could, but you’ll never see them again i’m not sure how they live with it; i’m not sure how i live with it the guilt surrounds me and pulls me under, i am drowning in what i can’t control
i don’t trust my hands, i shudder at the thought of a reproduction i envy those with easy jobs i dispute walking away from what i am most admired for i feel more hurtful than helpful, undignified, without purpose, lost
Winds rip across the city. Waves destroy beaches and towns. Heavy rains torment those all around.
The loss of a loved one, Ones you trusted and for whom you endlessly cared, Till eternal peace, which they have now found.
The times on the board
Cuts missed by a second, You know, you're no longer states bound.
Cars screech and crash
People scream and cry
A woman lain on the street, Who you hurriedly surround
Fire tears through your loving home, Heat and smoke fill your lungs
Confusion arises as you call their names, Watching your childhood house fall to the ground
Devastated families, Living hungry and alone, Hoping and dreaming for another chance at life: A rebound
'It's a shame life can go by with a slight twitch or even a blink of an eye Life is the same day to day
People's voices echo saying the same thing over again Life is the same day to day
Our skin wrinkles and our bodies become weak
Our voices become brittle to the point where we can't speak But hey, it's okay since the day will go gray We will turn into soil
It won't be the same day to day when we pass away Our life isn't fulfilling
And I am very unwilling
To continue this way and live on day to day
Mockingbird sings in the tree
Its tune is sweet; its voice is free
But listen close, and you will see
The mockingbird is mocking me
With mimicry, it copies all.
The sounds it hears, both big and small
The songs of birds, the baa of sheep
The bark of dogs, the hum of bees
But mockingbird, mockingbird
Do you not see the harm you've caused
When you mimic every word
And you mock every soul
So sing your song: oh mockingbird
But do it with a heart that's true
And let your melody be heard
Without the song of mockery, too
Mockingbird there is a way
To sing beautiful songs of your own
There is no need to quit
Just please, change your tone
Eerie sounds fill the air: Screams, skrieks, gasps. Creatures of all kinds roam the halls: Zombies, ghosts, and ghouls. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I can’t bring myself to turn and look. A masked man is there.
An old rusty chainsaw clutched in his hands. It roared, and the sharp knives circled. I bolt down the neverending hall, Down the creaky staircase, Through the ill-lit foyer, And out the door.
Thank God it is just a haunted house.
It was the 31st of October
Children were outside in their stroller
There were pumpkins and candy
Children wanted fancy candy
The children were cold
And the people passing out candy were old
There were costumes everywhere
One kid was even a grizzly bear
They went into the haunted house
As they put candy into their mouth
The monsters and skeletons were out
As the kids would shout,
Trick or Treat, Happy Halloween!
Jedidiah Thompson loved wolves more than the average little boy He loved them with his entire heart and soul Every night while Jedidiah drifted to sleep, he was graced with dreams of his life as a wolf Dreams about racing alongside the pretty gray wolf he knew that lived in the woods beside his house He dreamt of living in a pack, having dozens of packmates that relied on him, and enjoying the thrill of the hunt Every morning when Jedidiah woke, he would stalk around his parents’ home He liked pretending to be a wolf, giggling, and chasing his younger sister, Lizbet
Lizbet was the only thing in the world that Jedidiah loved more than wolves, loved to annoy, that is His favorite daytime activity was pulling on her pigtails and teasing her Seeing her face scrunched up in anger and frustration or annoyance was the best part of his days Well, until it caught up to him
Of course, it caught up to him because it always did Lizbet loved to squeal, always running off to mama or papa whenever Jedidiah pushed her a little too far He always hoped that she would snitch on him to papa Papa may have been mean and harsh with his belt, but Jedidiah could deal with a little beating He’d been hit with that belt enough times that it hardly even phased him anymore What he couldn’t stand were mama’s punishments Mama was a small woman who couldn’t muscle Jedidiah the same way his father could, so she loved to use other forms of punishment She would yell, “Go stand out in the snow for an hour No, you can’t have your jacket If you didn’t want to be cold, maybe you should’ve paid attention in math class ” She exclaimed, “Kneel on these peas until I tell you to get up I don’t care that it hurts; you should’ve thought about that before you shattered my good plates ” Or her favorite, “Go to bed – No dinner for a week I don’t care that you’re hungry; you should’ve thought about that before you were mean to your sister ”
That’s what Jedidiah was dealing with now Beating on his locked bedroom door, he wailed, “MAMA! I’m hungry! I’m hungry, Mama!”
“Go to bed, Jeddy!” She replied from somewhere downstairs, sounding angry and dismissive “I don’t want to hear another word out of you!”
Jedidiah crumpled to the ground in front of the door and wailed.
Day four of next to no food had him hungry, so, so hungry and desperate. He silently cried, curling in on himself, clutching his stomach. Sure. Maybe, he’d been a naughty boy. Maybe, he shouldn’t have been bullying Lizbet, but was this fair? Did he deserve this? Did he deserve to starve?
When he finally forced himself to sit up, Jedidiah wasn’t sure how much time had passed It had felt like hours, but he knew it couldn’t have been He didn’t care
He wondered how wolves told time The moon, probably Wolves loved the moon The books papa brought him said so Jedidiah wiped his tears and walked across the room to the open window He stared at it, searching the sky, looking past the tall, thick trees There There she was The moon Just as big and beautiful as she always was
What was that? Just there, in the tree line Jedidiah looked closer, watching, observing He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look, and that’s when he saw HER Her The wolf His wolf was his favorite animal in the whole world, which sparked his interest in wolves He felt like she was watching him before she turned and disappeared into the shadowy woods
Jedidiah watched her disappear and felt different He was still hungry, so hungry, but now he was, well, he wasn’t sure He spun round to face the rest of the bedroom Not good enough, he thought to himself and began to work He was like a tornado, tearing the room apart Stripping the sheets off the bed, he pushed the mattresses into a corner on the floor and piled pillows and blankets onto it He used the bed frames, his writing desk, and Lizbet’s crummy pink bookshelf to create and fortify walls around the pile He threw a few sheets over the top of everything, which created a roof over it all He took a step back and surveyed his den It wasn’t perfect, but it would work
He was hungry, and food would be coming to him in only a few moments He’d have to be ready He knew that Jedidiah drew the curtains closed and turned off the bedroom lights Then, he retreated into the comfortable darkness of his den
He watched the door Before, he would’ve thought that it was hard to see, but with his new heightened senses, his wolf senses, the darkness barely bothered him He heard noises on the stairs- footsteps, voices Lizbet He felt his hackles raise, and he crouched threateningly at the entrance to his den He knew that she wouldn’t be able to see him
Jedidiah strained to listen Approaching footsteps They stopped at the door Click The unlocking of the door Jedidiah’s teeth bared in some semblance of a snarl or a grin He couldn’t tell He watched as the door handle slowly turned His blood began to rush in his ears, and his heart raced He could smell her She smelled so good His prey smelled good; he was hungry
The door opened
“Jeddy?” Lizbet’s soft voice spoke “Jed, I brought you something to eat; I know you didn’t get dinner, and” Jedidiah ignored her Crouched low, he watched her He watched as she approached his den
Foolish prey
“I know you’re in there; do you want me to just give this to” Jedidiah cut her off
He pounced on her, knocking her to the ground and sending the plate – something irrelevant That didn’t matter What mattered was the hunt: the prey Blood pumping, heart racing, all Jedidiah knew was predatory and prey, kill or be killed, hunt or be hunted Lizbet screamed as Jedidiah’s teeth ripped into her throat
He felt for a moment his prey’s thrashing, nails digging into his face and neck He didn’t care Minor irritants Mosquitos on the back of an elephant He bit and scratched at her face, arms, throat, whatever he could get his paws and teeth on He lavished the metallic taste of her blood on his teeth He felt his hunger subside, lost in the sea of new and unfamiliar sensations
Some parts of him were crying out Maybe, it was the human part Jedidiah, the one who loved his baby sister and wanted to pull on her pigtails The one who wanted to keep her safe from the boys at school with their greedy hands and watching eyes Jedidiah, the one who helped her with her math homework every night even though he barely understood it himself Jedidiah, the one who held her when she woke up from nightmares Jedidiah, the one who took beatings and punishments to keep her from the pain Maybe Jedidiah wanted to stop
Jedidiah, the wolf, ignored him Jedidiah, the wolf, ripped and tore and blocked out the voice of the agonized boy in the back of his head
“GET OFF OF HER!” Mama screamed suddenly, tearing Jedidiah off the prey he had carefully hunted He was surprised by Mama’s strength; she had never done that before She threw him aside
“GET AWAY!” Mama yelled
Jedidiah backed into the corner, growling He stared his mother in the eye and noted the hatred that had hardened her eyes He watched as the hatred faded and turned to tears, and he watched as she turned and clutched his prey and sobbed
Stupid Mama took his prey Stupid
“Go away, you monster, go away, get out, you have to,” his mother mumbled, barely heard through her sobs
Jedidiah considered his options, and glanced towards the open door And then he ran
He bolted out the bedroom door and down the stairs, stumbling over at his feet and barely keeping himself from falling He crashed through the living room and kitchen and out the back door
She was waiting for him The gray wolf; his gray wolf She watched him and stared into his eyes He wondered what she was thinking He wondered if he was the prey now
She turned and raced into the woods Jedidiah somehow knew that she wanted him to follow, so he did He ran after her, uncaring about the painful earth under his bare feet He didn’t care that branches were whipping into his face and mud was getting between his toes He didn’t care that people were calling out to him from somewhere behind him None of that mattered It was all meaningless to Jedidiah, the wolf All that mattered was following his wolf wherever she wanted him
As the voices eventually faded, she guided him into a cave Jedidiah, the wolf, looked around, shivering as the cold, smooth rocks touched his bare feet He watched the other wolves as they watched him He dropped to his knees as one approached and tentatively sniffed him
Jedidiah hesitantly greeted the wolf in the way his wolf books told him to Low to the ground, very small The wolf seemed to approve of him and allowed him entry into the cave
Jedidiah, the, wolf, smiled, because he would be accepted into the pack and cared for He would never go hungry again He would have a loving family All was well now
Jedidiah, the human, started to cry
by Aurelia Igielinski '23
Pitter-patter, Pitter-patter
Rain splashes on the exhausted pavement
Black boots dragging
The street is desolate with dark alleys on either side
Left alone only with thoughts
Whoosh – the wind whistles and whispers
It passes from ear to ear
Chills pass over
Spine tingling
The slow trudge home continues
BUZZZ – the streetlamp dies overhead
Only leaving the moon to light the night
Engulfed in the still darkness
Focused in on the sounds of the street
Faint cars and sirens
Scratch
Something scurries in the shadows
Fear and panic
Pace quickened
For fear of what is lurking in the dark
The black moonless sky spills foggy, clouded gray
Not a reflection mirrors the bleak puddles
The sullen stooped home shines no warm
And the beaten wood porch soaks in icy rain
Winter draft steeps through the house’s cracks
The weary walls remain still
Rings print the table as the tea turns cold
Stagnant, sleeping ivy hung over its clay abode
Heavy ticks pervade silence from the dusty sill
And the cat curls in the corner refuge from the frozen air
Unwelcoming and stiff: the boards are ice below
Hungry reality: his empty belly groans
Stillness dwells, and frosty air bites
Not a sound from the home in the quiet, dark night
It was raining, cold, and damp I sat on the back of a 4-rider golf cart with no source of warmth, but I did not care We ventured down my favorite road that smelled of ripe grapes Pulling off to the side, we quickly grabbed a bundle and sped out from the side of the road We chewed the purple grapes, reminding ourselves of the grape juice from the winery across the caves Spitting out the pits, I enjoyed the rain dripping on my face It was cold, but this was home Ly had put on one of the group's favorite mutual artists, Motley Crue “Home Sweet Home” sang out with the heavy guitar and voracious drums We were home, even if it meant leaving the next day We stubbled upon Perry's cave, which was closed for the season We found two pumpkins, which Teagan and I wanted to carve However, Ly argued that the pumpkin was not ready to leave, so we continued walking Sometimes I feel like that pumpkin: young, immature, but mostly not ready to leave I don't get a choice Unlike that pumpkin, I eventually need to let someone cut me from the vine but not today The day was filled with all the social necessities I needed to survive the cold winter Going home was the hardest thing, saying goodbye to the cottage of sunsets and growing baby birds But I can always go back to my memories