April 2021
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Cover: “pain,” an illustration by viento de levante This Page:
Page 3: “Stopped Reading UnOrdinary Last Year lol,” an illustration by Cupid
Ask Aphro & Dite
• Someone wants to get the vaccine • Winter wants to save some plants
The Hues of Blue
“A Wreath of Laurel,” continued “Wings,” a manga by Aya Hatashima
Page 10:
“Hunted,” a story by Vérité “Woodpecker,” a photograph by The Calico Cat
Page 11:
• Blue talks about a frightning experience at the beach
“Hunted,” continued “Summer Balcony,” an illustration by Aya Hatashima
Monthly Otaku Column
Page 12:
• Aya discusses eggs
Page 4:
“The Ghosts Of The Dusty Roads,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Alolan Exeggutor,” an illustration by Concept Cintill
Page 5:
“The Ghosts Of The Dusty Roads,” continued “I Have Truly Run Out Of Ideas,” an illustration by Bleach Lord
Page 6:
“The Ghosts Of The Dusty Roads,” continued “Full Blossom,” a photograph by The Calico Cat
Page 7:
“trifecta of storming skies,” a poem by Vérité “Crystalfly,” an illustration by Blue Serendipity “I hate Zeus all my homies hate Zeus mans was a whole creep like my mans Hades is where it’s at and don’t give me that kidnapping bullshit the original myth has her just getting bored and sauntering on down to hell like Crowley from Good Omens yes is me plugging my favorite TV show go watch Good Omens on Amazon Prime y’all would like it but that’s not the point anyways Hades is a G and Zeus is a b*tch boy #YourFaveIsProblematic,” a line by Calliope “Aphrodite,” a poem by Lola
Page 8:
“A Wreath of Laurel,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Mermaid,” an illustration by Cupid 2
Page 9:
“Egg.,” a poem by The Midnight Raven “Okay this gremlin child from the inferior W school aka wooton constantly sends me these cursed ass snaps at like two am of him just making eggs it’s nothing but eggs I’m so terrified please he ate like five of them yesterday,” a poem by Calliope
Page 13:
“Adelaide (7),” a story by Blue Serendiptiy “Primes of Life,” an illustration by Bleach Lord
Page 14:
“Adelaide (7),” continued “egg,” an illustration by Aya Hatashima
Ask Aphro & Dite Dear Aphro,
How do I get the COVID vaccine? Yours, Quarantined Dear Quarantined, I’m so glad you’re trying to get vaccinated! The vaccines are only available to those over 16, but there are no longer teirs and stages of which groups of people can get vaccinated. Your first step would be to pre-register in both your country site and sate site. I’ve noticed that it usually takes about a week to get an appointment afterward. If you’re very impatient, try calling the large vaccination sites like Six Flags or pharmacies! Good luck and don’t forget to stay safe even after getting vaccinated! With love, Aphro Dear Dite, My plant is dying. How do I save it? Yours, Winter Darling Winter, It would really depend on the type of plant you have, hun. If you’ve got a beginner plant like a pothos or ZZ plant, no problem. A calathea however... might as well get a new plant. After you’ve figured out what plant, you should search up the care for it. It’s also very helpful to know where the plant’s native habitat is so you can try to match the conditions. General rule of thumb, if your plant is wilting it probably needs water. If it’s paler than usual and getting brown spots it can be because it’s getting sunburnt. Plants are super resiliant too, so if neccessary you can sometimes just cut it back and let it “regrow”. In the end, you might just not be right for that plant. Either you’re too forgetful to water, water too much, or you simply cannot give it enough light. There’s so many plants out there however, so I’m sure that with enough searching you’ll find the right one for you. With love, Dite
The Hues of Blue
Summer’s almost here! It’s my absolute favorite season due to the heat, thunderstorms, fashion, and most of all-- vacation! My family tends to drive down to Florida every summer for either Disney, Orlando, or the beach. My favorite beach is personally Clearwater Beach (I really recommend it if anyone is interested), but my parents like Daytona more. Mainly because it isn’t as far away. One summer, I went down to Daytona with my cousins. They’re about my age, just a year or two younger, so we got along pretty well. The first thing we did when we arrived was run right into the ocean. We had brought boogieboards and I had my waterproof camera so we were all super excited to get into the water as fast as possible. Then, my cousin began freaking out and ran back to shore. None of us knew what had happened, but my younger sister was with her so we assumed it was alright. Then I felt a strange piercing pain on my leg. I yelped and began hopping on my other foot while trying to figure out what was hurting me. One of my other cousins seemed to be feeling the pain too. Wide-eyed, we all went back to shore and asked my sister what had happened. “There’s jellyfish,” she had said. After that, you’d think we’d be smart enough to stay out of the water. Nope. We simply went to a different part of the beach and got back in. It was all good for a while until we heard screaming and saw people running back to shore. We thought there were more jellyfish, but then we saw what they were pointing at. A fin. The three of us began yelling at each other and trying desperately to get back to shore as quickly as possible, stumbling and spashing around wildly. It wasn’t until we had flopped onto the sand and had screamed at my younger sisters that there was a shark that I noticed something off about the fin. It was moving up and down in the waves, going back in forth. Luckily for us, it was a dolphin! From now on though, I’ll definitely be more cautious in the water.
issuu.com/midnightwriters wchs.midnightwriters@gmail.com
Monthly Otaku Column Finally, some of the in-person classes are
back and I am glad that I can see my friends again before graduating. Also, I turned 18 this month and the thought of how I would be treated as “adult” now feels quite different from other birthdays. The illustration, Egg, was one of the art assignments from last year that combined multiple media like pen art, collage, watercolor, and pastel. From this, I tried to express my love in egg cuisine and the process of how these foods are delivered to us. I like the varieties I could experience in many foods that include eggs in it. This month’s manga is based on a greek myth, Leda and the Swan. The idea of Zeus seducing Leda as a swan is bizarre (and many paintings based on this story is rated R), but I personally like the element of god’s children born from eggs and how these children become part of a historical conflict later in their lives. While I was drawing this manga, I remembered my obsession in collecting egg shaped containers. As a kid, I loved the story of a goose that laid the golden eggs and bought myself a golden egg container from a toy shop. My general obsession in egg shaped containers never changed, but I think my taste of the style became somewhat more elegant. I visited France about 5 years ago for spring break and since it was before Easter, many stores had Easter chocolates with elegant boxes. One of the stores had Easter egg chocolate in an elegant metal egg container that I could open it up from the middle. I fell in love of the container and I bought it. It was navy blue, with golden decorations and carvings, and had some elegant patterns all over the egg container. I still have it and I am currently using it to put some accessories.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Blue Serendipity, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Calliope, Bleach Lord, The Midnight Raven, Cupid, and Vérité. 3
The Ghosts Of The Dusty Roads By The Midnight Raven
4
I ambled through the swinging doors, the sound of the heels of my boots against the wooden floor echoed through the dead saloon. Two older gentlemen sat at a low table by the entrance but I didn’t return their drunken nods of acknowledgment, I was here to drink and nothing else. I slumped up onto one of the seats by the counter and tossed my hat off, letting it fall next to me on the bar. I ran my fingers through my slightly mussed brown hair as the saloon-keeper walked towards me from behind the bar. “What can I get you?” He asked me as he wrung out a glass with a slightly torn rag. “Whiskey,” I replied shortly. The man nodded and turned his back to me, grabbing the bottle from the shelf. He slid the bottle down the counter and I caught it before it went out of my reach. I lifted the whiskey to my lips and took a drink of the amber liquid. I set it down hard on the counter and winced, the taste burning down my throat. “Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me?” I heard a voice say from behind me. I knew that voice. I turned my head and looked at the figure standing by the entrance of the saloon, the doors swinging behind him. “Sawyer, what in the hell are you doing here?” I demanded through slightly gritted teeth. “Now, Levi, is that any way to greet someone?” Sawyer replied as he sauntered over to the bar. He rested his arm against the counter and leaned in close to me. “Maybe for you, it is,” I muttered under my breath. “Come on, Levi. How about a drink, for old times sake?” He asked me, his breath hot against my cheek. “Do I really have much of a say? ” “For this, no,” Sawyer said, that bright grin appearing on his face. “Well, I guess, alright then,” I responded with the faintest trace of a smile, he always had that effect on me. He took the seat next to me and took off his own hat and set it next to my own. He ordered a bottle of bourbon before turning to the side to look at me. His light brown eyes met my own. His stare, it blazed through my skin and ate away my very bones. I had known that stare once. I glanced away and raised the whiskey to my lips. The burning down my throat was becoming a welcome feeling. “Levi, look at me,” Sawyer said softly, tilting his head to
the side a little to try to find my eyes. I glanced sideways towards him, not fully turning my chin. “It’s been a long while since we’ve seen each other,” He continued “Whose fault is that?” I snapped back, surprising even myself at my vicious tone. “Levi, please,” He whispered. Sawyer reached out his hand under the counter, opening it slightly, an invitation to place my own in it. My eyes darted back to the two other men in the saloon but they were so deliriously drunk they wouldn’t be able to make out the difference between us and a couple of pack mules. I looked back at Sawyer, our eyes speaking in silent conversation, before I took his hand under the bar. That’s what my time with Sawyer had been like, holding hands in the shadows, saying our thoughts through our eyes and not words. It had been three months we spent together, three months of drinking each other in like the intoxicating drops of amber whiskey. It had been three months in the darkness, in our own secrets, but I was perfectly fine to live that way forever. Sawyer had been too, for a little while. “I’m sorry, Levi.” “Sorry? Sorry for what? For leaving me? Or for promising me that we’d always be in each other’s lives, but once opportunity came your way all your promises went to hell?”
“Alolan Exeggutor,” Illustration by Concept Cintill
“For all of it, Levi, for all of it.” I took another swig of whiskey. My head wouldn’t be clear tonight, drinking or not. “You could’ve stayed, and we would’ve been fine. You would’ve been fine.” “I know,” Levi started before tearing a hand through his dusty blonde hair, “I know. For every single second, you don’t think I’ve wished I stayed too?” I glanced over at him, my eyes wide. “You have?” “Of course I have. You know what was going on back then, all anyone could talk about was gold, gold. Go to California, there’s gold in California. And I was broke, I was dirt broke. I thought maybe I’d have a chance.” “But what about all I promised you? I told you that we could get a ranch in Missouri, run away from all of this and just be there together, where we wouldn’t have to hide. I would have supported you until you got back on your feet.” “I didn’t want to live off what you had, I wanted to be my own man,” Sawyer said and I scoffed. “Well, how did that work out for you?” “I know I should’ve said yes, I know I should’ve. I still think about Missouri, what would’ve happened if I did go. I think about you, Levi. You were all that mattered, I should’ve known that.” “But you didn’t,” I replied plainly and Sawyer took a swig of his drink and gritted his teeth as he swallowed. “I would’ve given you all you needed, I offered you a ranch, a home. I offered you help to find work. I offered you everything and you still turned me down. I always had trouble saying no to you, but it clearly wasn’t a problem for you when it came to me.” I slid off my seat and my boots hit against the wooden floor. I downed the last drops of whiskey from my bottle and slammed it down on the counter. I grabbed my hat that sat next to Sawyer’s and placed it on my head. “Levi, wait.” But I ignored him, like I did back then. I turned on the heels of my boots and headed for the door. I heard Sawyer calling my name and the sound of his footsteps coming towards me but I didn’t stop. I felt the touch of his hand against my shoulder but I shrugged him off and pushed through the swinging doors. But when I walked out onto the dust roads, I began to realize that it was no longer the dead of night that it had been mere seconds ago. It was mid-afternoon, the sun blazed high in the sky and beat down on my back. I glanced
“I Have Truly Run Out Of Ideas,” Illustration by Bleach Lord
around, confusion flashing in my eyes. That’s when I saw him. Sawyer, standing down in the center of the road, with his head tilted up to the sun. Sawyer who had just been behind me, he should’ve been behind me. No. No. I couldn’t live this moment again. “Sawyer!” I screamed, my deep voice echoing through the blistering summer air. But he couldn’t hear me, he didn’t hear me back then either. A man who had been standing a few feet away from him walked forward until he was right in front of Sawyer. “You told us that you were going to pay for a spot on our wagon to California, now what’s this I hear that you’re backing out on that?” The man spat. “I just found another opportunity, a cheaper opportunity, from someone else. There’s no real harm done.” He replied. I could see the way his hands slightly shook from here. “Well, I see some harm done. We turned down other offers cause we thought you were going to pay up like you said.” The man pressed a finger to Sawyer’s chest, his voice threatening. “So, you’re either going to give me my money, or I’m going to shoot you down right here.” “I already spent all that I have to offer.”
5
“Well, I guess you’ve made your choice then.” The man growled. “No,” I breathed, my voice soft until it grew louder and louder, “No!” I broke out into a run, trying to get to Sawyer in time. But I already saw the glint of the pistol in the beating sun’s light. The man was already taking aim. I heard the shot from where I stood and I froze, stopped in my tracks as I saw Sawyer fall to the ground. He was gone, he was gone again. I couldn’t save him then and I couldn’t now. I crumpled to my knees and tore off my hat and smacked it down onto the dirt. Tears spilled down my face and I brought my arms around my torso. I shook with the cries and sobs that left my lips. I whispered prayers that he would come back, prayers that I could save him. It was night again, the vivid scene of my memory had disappeared. Sawyer’s body and the man were gone, they had been for years. My whole body felt as fragile as a tumbleweed, like one single blow and I could spiral away, never to come back. Sawyer was gone, body buried in a small cemetery a mile away, but with no soul living in it. The soul that made Sawyer the man I had loved, who I always had, with his fierce ambition, his golden confidence, his laugh that echoed through my head for days, was gone. He was gone. “I was trying to find you that day,” Sawyer’s voice started from behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder through my eyes blurry with salty tears. “I was going to take you with me. Not to California, to Missouri. I found a wagon train heading there, I spent all I had to get us spots.” “How do I know that’s true? You’re not even real, you’re just an illusion, a conjuring from my own mind.” “Maybe, but how do you know that it isn’t the truth? Maybe I was coming for you, and you just never knew.” “And I never will,” I spat bitterly. “I will never truly be gone, Levi,” This figment of my own imagination said as he reached out his hand to lift my chin so I could look at him. “I will always be alive in your head, in your memories.” “But you are already gone, Sawyer. My memories will fade one day like you already have.” I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the darkness behind them. “You’re already gone,” I whispered. When I opened my eyes again a moment later, I kneeled alone in the dirt road, with no sign of anything around me. The conjuring I had created from within the darkest 6
depths of my mind had faded, just as Sawyer himself had. The tears kept spilling down my face, I never knew if they would stop. Sawyer had been lost to me on this very street over four years ago, and I was still holding on. “Go to Missouri, Levi. Leave this place. Do it for us,” His voice whispered in my ear. The idea settled in my brain, maybe I would, leave this godforsaken town behind and finally start living again. These memories, this pain, tied me down here, I never knew if I could ever truly leave, but maybe, just maybe. I stood up from the dirt and grabbed my hat and placed it back on top of my head. I turned my back and began to walk, away from the doors of the saloon. “Do it for us, Levi,” Sawyer’s voice murmured again. The tears that had been falling from my eyes began to trail down even faster. My shoulders shook as I stumbled through the roads of this town haunted by the ghosts of my own memories. “But you’re already gone,” I whispered to the empty sky.
“Full Blossom,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
trifecta of storming skies by Vérité
hurricane the seas are roaring in a twisted churning mass rushing towards land. tornado winds whip through wide fields tearing up our homes and lives maybe you should run. lightning storms the light hits with a crackle the thunder follows with rage when will the sky calm?
I hate Zeus all my homies hate Zeus mans was a whole creep like my mans Hades is where it’s at and don’t give me that kidnapping bullshit the original myth has her just getting bored and sauntering on down to hell like Crowley from Good Omens yes is me plugging my favorite TV show go watch Good Omens on Amazon Prime y’all would like it but that’s not the point anyways Hades is a G and Zeus is a b*tch boy #YourFaveIsProblematic By Calliope
I have nothing to say here I like Greek mythology also Athena’s hot bye.
Aphrodite By Lola
Listen to my voice Let your heart open to mine Love me until death “Crystalfly,” Illustration by Blue Serendipity
7
A Wreath Of Laurel
“Mermaid,” Illustration by Cupid
By The Midnight Raven Daphne sat by the edge of the riverbank, the white fabric of her tunic’s hem drifting into the crystal water. She held an aster flower in her hand and plucked off the light purple petals, dropping them into the river water and watching them float away. Daphne was a dryad, a nymph of the forest, and her hair shone the same golden as the beams of sunlight that glistened through the trees. As Daphne lounged by the water, singing softly under her breath, the sound of twigs breaking from behind her rang out. Before she could turn, to see who intruded in the forest, the sound of a loud, “Hello” rang out. Daphne jumped up from where she sat and turned sharply as she stepped down and back into the swirling waters of the river. The voice belonged to a man, a man with skin the color of honey and hair the color of the sun. “Who are you?” Daphne said in as demanding a tone as her meak voice could muster. “You truly don’t know?” The man asked, taking a step forward, closer to Daphne. She held out a hand, a gesture telling him to not move another inch, as her tunic billowed with the river’s current. “No man is of any interest to me.” Daphne replied softly, half to him, half to herself. The men of Greece were beasts, seeing women as prizes meant to be won and believing that the world spun on the tip of their scarred fingers. “Fair nymph, I am the god Apollo. The god that sends sunlight down on the trees of your forests, who inspires all honeyed voices like yours to sing, who brings the mind sweet lines of poetry, who-” He cut himself off. “I think I should at least be of a little interest to you.” He continued as he stepped down from the riverbank and into the water. She scrambled back, lifting her dress up so it no longer dragged behind against the slick stones of the river bed. She tripped from the bank, the water flying up in crystal drops around her legs. Daphne’s feet hit the ground, the feeling of cool earth, as she began to run. “Come back!” Apollo cried, his voice echoing through the clearing. But Daphne didn’t, she kept running. So he did too. He took off at a sprint, dashing after Daphne and her golden waves that flew with the wind. Her heart beat within her chest, the sound like the ringing out of a tympanum drum, as she ran. 8
Many times before, men would traipse through the trees of the forest and intrude on Daphne, seeing her own beauty as the god’s gift to them, and not to her. “How could I win your heart?” They begged. Her heart was not meant to be won. “I must have you, how can I have?” They pleaded. She could not be belonged, not tied down, not owned, by anyone but herself and the forest. “I will make you mine.” They growled as they tried to grab her bony wrists. If Daphne learned anything over the past few years, it was to run. “Father, father, god of the river, please hear me.” Daphne called out as she ran, looking back at the glistening waters that she had left behind. She could still see the faint sight of purple petals drifting with the current. “Let the men of the Greek world leave me be. Let me be free of their grasp, father.” “What are you doing?” Apollo yelled, his swift frame gaining ground on Daphne. She gasped and ran faster, her
legs pumping against the grass. Her father needed to hear her, he was not hearing her. Daphne veered to the left, taking a turn wide enough that she could avoid Apollo’s reaching hands while still moving back to the river. As Daphne ran, she closed her eyes. She felt the wind brush against the skin of her cheeks and rustle through her hair the color of honey and sun. “Father, father, please hear me. Save me from the grasps of this man,” she pleaded to the clouds of the sky. As Daphne reached the banks of the river, the words leaving her lips, she felt her feet begin to be rooted in place. She looked down in horror at her legs, at the legs that once were made of skin, of blood, of flesh. Legs that were now turning into the bark of a tree. As Apollo neared, he slowed to a sharp stop, his chest glistening with sweat and light from the sun. He stared in shock, in anger, as Daphne, the thing he saw as the object of his fascinations, turned into a laurel tree. Daphne looked up towards the sky as the wood began to creep up to her chest. She extended her neck, tilting up her chin to save her last breaths.
“Thank you, father.” She whispered, a single tear dripping from her eyes. As her face was consumed by the bark of the tree, the droplet that cascaded down her cheek became a tear shaped bump in the laurel wood. “What have you done?” Apollo spat at the towering tree, the tree that had once been the woman he would never have. He squinted his eyes, taking in each hollow, each marking in the bark of that laurel tree. “I shall make a wreath from your leaves,” Apollo declared, reaching up his hands to pluck them from Daphne’s branches. “So I can keep a part of you. Always.” The god of poetry and music thought he was being lyrical, poetic. The god of poetry and music was committing one final cruelty to Daphne. With the stolen leaves, he weaved together a laurel crown and placed it atop his golden head, the curls of olive oil and honey. He stole one last look at the tree that stood by the banks of the river and turned, leaving the forest clearing that he had never been welcomed into. As he walked, the light shone through the branches of the trees of the forest, onto the god of the sun and his woven crown of laurel. “Wings,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from Right to Left)
9
Hunted by Vérité
The Hunt begins, as it always does. There are twelve of them in total. Lyra, ten other flintyeyed girls with bows slung over their shoulder, and the Huntress. The Huntress, who is nothing and everything all at once. “Woodpecker,” Photograph by The Calico Cat Their leader, their teacher, their worst nightmares and warmest dreams come to life in a dazzling, dizzying medThe White Deer. ley. She is. . . well, ethereal is the only word to describe her. Looks ordinary, at first glance, but soon her gaze grows It locks eyes with her, golden gaze sharp as the Huntress too piercing, eyes too golden, figure too lanky and graceful. herself. Then, it runs. No wonder the forest is her playground. Lyra adjusts the bow on her back. No time for such thoughts in the middle of a Hunt. None of the other girls would let themselves get distracted in such a way. There’s a rustle and they all glance up in tandem. There. A glint of white shines between the bushes, and suddenly they’re off, steps lighter than a breeze, chasing after the reflection of the White Deer’s hide. Despite their training, it’s a desperate, ugly chase. They rush through trees and rivers and hills and lakes and find naught for their efforts but a little clump of shining white fur. Lyra’s the one to spot it first. She takes it in her hands and tucks it away for later. Back at camp, the moon shines on from above as they all settle in for the night. No one speaks. They’re still reeling from the sting of their failure, predictable as it was. Tomorrow, they promise themselves as they settle in to sleep, tomorrow, the White Deer won’t get away. * Lyra wakes in the middle of the night. There’s a feeling she can’t quite place, buzzing under her skin. She follows it to the edge of their little grove and beyond, stepping carefully over stray leaves and roots. There’s a whisper, skating over the wind. She can’t make out its words. And then—
Lyra hasn’t even begun to move by the time it’s vanished. Mouth suddenly dry, she returns to the camp. She stays silent. Something tells her this is something to keep to herself. * The Hunt continues, as it always does. They’re chasing it through mountains this time, scrambling over rocky inclines and whisking themselves out of the path of crumbling crevices. They stay distant from each other, only exchanging glances and signals when one of them feels she’s getting closer. They spot the deer again. Again, it escapes them. Like before, Lyra is left stashing the fur in her pocket. In the middle of the night, surrounded by the quiet breathing of the other girls, Lyra wakes to the same buzzing under her skin. She heads to the edge of the overhang, folding herself between the shadows. The whispers start again. This time, they’re clearer. You. . . You are not. . . Not what, she nearly snaps but then her head whips up without her processing the motion. The deer stands in front of her, mere feet away.
It meets her eyes and blinks. If she just reached a hand out. . . It bolts and vanishes into the night. Lyra’s left standing alone, shivering as the wind overtakes her. You are not. . . you are not . . . You are not the predator. “Lyra,” says the Huntress from behind her. She jumps before catching herself and snatching back her decorum. “What are you doing out here?” “Nothing,” she says, clearing her throat awkwardly. “I just. . . thought I saw something. That’s all”
You are. . . A pet. A full body shudder overtakes her. Again she locks eyes with the White Deer. Again it leaves her alone, disappearing into the night as she shivers. Again the Huntress finds her. “Why do we hunt with you?” Lyra asks, tripping over her tongue when she realizes she doesn’t know how to address the Huntress. “Why here? Why together? Why hunt? She’s hunted for years and years now. And yet, this is the first time she’s ever spoken up, face to face with their ringleader.
The deer has long vanished by now, anyways. No use mentioning it to the Huntress.
“Why, that’s a silly question, isn’t it?” the Huntress says, smile curling unnaturally at the edges. “Where else would you be?”
Suddenly there’s a hand on her shoulder and Lyra startles. “Come back to camp,” the Huntress says, watching her with a steely gaze. “You will need your rest.”
Her teeth look sharper then they should be, in the light of the moon. Lyra lets the words wash over her. It’s soothing, she thinks, though it shouldn’t be.
The Huntress leads her back, hand on her shoulder curling inwards possessively as they go. She returns to her cot, shrugging off the other girls’ looks of curiosity and vague envy.
Where else, indeed? “Summer Balcony,” Illustration by Aya Hatashima
She sleeps little that night. * The Hunt continues, as always. Their next day is spent spiriting themselves through windy fields, weaving through golden stalks of wheat as they wave in the breeze. The girls’ gazes keep resting on her, with eyes of suspicion and doubt. She ignores them, best as she can. They spot the deer again. Again, it gets away. Again, she pockets the fur. That evening, the whispers grow louder. You are not the predator. You are not the prey. You are . . . 11
By The Midnight Raven
Okay this gremlin child from the inferior W school aka wootton constantly sends me these cursed ass snaps at like two am of him just making eggs it’s nothing but eggs I’m so terrified please he ate like five of them yesterday By Calliope 12
May I offer you An egg in this trying time It is very fresh
Adelaide (7) By Blue Serendipity
My heart sank when I heard the snow plows slowly making their way down the street. Soon CPS would arrive at the door, and Adelaide would have to leave. The chances of Adelaide staying with us wasn’t high. Maybe her parents really did have a reasonable explanation, or maybe CPS would still allow them to continue having custody. Maybe they didn’t, and Adelaide would be given to another family. Even after a day’s worth of extensive research the adoption process felt messy and confusing. Our situation was so strange it was difficult to predict what would happen. “So what’d they say?” Laura asked once I got off the phone with CPS. “They said that they’ll be here within an hour,” I said, my voice tired and resigned. Laura pursed her lips and hefted Adelaide up a little higher. She was dressed in the clothes I had found her in again, and we had gathered all her things. We even put her makeshift sock-animals in her car seat just in case she’d want them. “It’ll turn out ok,” said Laura reassuringly. “No matter what happens to Adelaide in the end, we’ll do our best to make sure she’s happy.”
“Primes of Life,” Illustration by Bleach Lord
“If she gets taken away…” I swallowed and stared at Adelaide. “Do you think we’d get to be a part of her life again? Would she remember us?” “You found her in the middle of a blizzard,” she answered softly. “Even if she doesn’t remember in the future, the fact that she’ll be alive is because of you.” “Yeah well,” I tapped Adelaide’s nose, causing her to laugh, “you better live your life to the fullest when you’re older.” Laura then sat Adelaide down on the livingroom floor to let her draw. I stood and watched for a few minutes, taking the scene in. It could possible be the last time I ever saw this again. Adelaide grabbed at the pens gleefully and scribbled to her heart’s content.
Her actions were jerky and uncoordinated, but her eyes were bright and focused. Laura sat beside her with a soft smile on her face. She laughed whenever the pen slipped out of Adelaide’s small hands and talked to her as if they were both adults having a conversation. I didn’t want this to ever end. Perhaps I did want children? Laura would be— she is a perfect mom. She’s always mentioned that she wasn’t against the idea of having kids, but I had never wanted them. Now, it was difficult to imagine us with one less person. But the idea of replacing Adelaide with someone else felt wrong. Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and began washing the dishes. That was a thought to ponder
over in the future. CPS arrived thirty minutes later than planned. I was a little grateful for that. It was another thirty minutes to spend with Adelaide. The first thing they did was check up on her to make sure she was uninjured and healthy. Laura smiled at me when they took her temperature and declared it normal. “You two did a great job looking after her,” said the man - Oliver Walt - once they were finished. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to get here earlier.” “Oh, no,” said Laura shaking her head, “it was wonderful looking after her.
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She’s a good kid.” “Have you figured anything out about her…” the word got stuck in my throat. “Family?” “Not yet,” sighed Walt, “but with her DNA we’ll probably be able to figure it out pretty quickly.” “What if she doesn’t have a family? Or she was abandoned?” “Then we put her in foster care. Hopefully it doesn’t have to come to that,” said Walt wearily. I bit the inside of my cheek. I should be hoping the same. Glancing to the side, I saw Walt’s partner Hannah Rosby buckling Adelaide into the carseat. The air seemed to rush out of my lungs. It was all happening too fast. Adelaide was oblivious to all. She giggled whenever someone gave her attention, and played happily with her makeshift sock animal. What I would give to be as blissfully ignorant to what was going on. I wondered how she would be feeling if she was aware. Would she be sad to leave us? “If Adelaide gets put in the adoption system, can we adopt her?” I said finally. Walt blinked. “Well you and your wife would need to go through a bunch of stuff like background checks, but I’m sure it’d be possible,” he said thoughtfully. Hope bloomed in my chest. “If you’d like we could write your names down and let you know later.”
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“You’ve both taken such good care of her. I’m sure you’d be able to adopt her if it came to it,” said Rosby smiling. I nodded slowly, both anxious and relieved. Laura stepped forward and grabbed my hand comfortingly. “But if she does have family who are missing her out there, will you let us know when she’s safe?” Laura asked. I squeezed her hand. It would hurt to hear, but in the end as long as Adelaide’s safe and happy I would be happy as well. “Will do,” said Walt with a kind smile. “We have to go now, but you guys can say goodbye.” I slowly crouched down to the carseat’s height. Adelaide grinned at the sight of me and her green eyes stared mirthfully into mine. I couldn’t tell if my heart was exploding with pain or love. Perhaps both. “Hey Addie,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “You’re gonna grow up to be such a talent, smart girl. I hope you’ll grow up happy and loved no matter where you end up. I’m gonna miss you, little keyboard monster.” Adelaide just blinked at me, her smile unwavering and eyes still mirthful. She didn’t understand what I had just said to her, but it still felt good to have said it. Laura crouched down beside me and brushed some hair out of Adelaide’s face. “I’m gonna miss you too
Adelaide,” she said softly. I had a feeling Laura was more upset than I was, yet she managed to hide it better. After all, she loved kids. Neither of us had anything else to say. We both simply smiled sadly at the sound of her gibberish and giggles. Then, the dread moment came. The moment the front door closed a strange emptiness bounced within my chest. The living room felt enormous, and it felt terrifyingly lonely. A sense of worry and fear for what was now happening to Adelaide
churned my stomach. Was she scared now that she was with two new strangers? Will she be passed around to countless people before any answers are found? Will she be treated well? The uncertainty of it all was slowly killing me. I noticed Laura standing by the coffee table where we had stacked all of Adelaide’s drawings and my heart cracked. Striding over, I pulled her into a hug. Adelaide was gone, and now all we could do was wait. To be continued...
“egg,” Illustration by Aya Hatashima