Midnight Writers December 2019

December 2019

Midnight Writers

Table of Contents

Page 12: Cover: “Neon,” an illustration by Cupid Skies,” a story by The Cold Hearted Queen This Page: “Totem,” a photograph by The Calico Cat “Red “Wisps Of Gold,” a photograph by Blue Serendipity Page 3: Page 13: Ask Aphro & Dite • Vérité asks for help concerning the bird conspiracy • Atoned asks for advice with his girlfriend

The Hues of Blue

• Blue recalls an incident that happened on a mountain

Monthly Otaku Column

• Aya talks about one of her submissions

Page 4:

“Tough Luck,” a story by Vérité “The Nutcracker,” a poem by Verovyva “Broken,” an illustration by Marz

Page 5:

“The Party Girl,” a story by Calliope “Fifth Position,” an illustration by Marz “The Blizzard,” a story by Luna

Page 6:

“The Soldiers,” a manga by Aya Hatashima “The Winter Bubble,” a poem by Anon “A Walk of Ice,” a poem by Anonymous

Page 7:

“Shattering The Frozen Sea,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Snowflakes,” a poem by The Calico Cat “Winter Phantom,” an illustration by Aya Hatashima

Page 8:

“The Competition Part 2: Will,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Wonderland,” a photograph by The Calico Cat

Page 9:

“The Competition Part 2: Will,” continued “Her and I,” a poem by Slightly Silver “A Snowy Landscape,” a poem by The Calico Cat “Snowed Out,” a photograph by Casual Posture

Page 10:

“A Guiding Hand,” a story by Blue Serendipity “Trees of Reid,” a phtograph by Calliope

Page 11:

“A Guiding Hand,” continued “Forest Haiku,” a poem by Calliope “Redwood,” a poem by Verovyva “Around The Bend,” a photograph by Luna 2 “The Other Side,” a photograph by The Calico Cat

“There Is A Correct Way To Make Hot Chocolate,” a rant

by Calliope “Yes, A Correct Way To Make Hot Chocolate Exists,” a rant by Blue Serendipity “Apples,” an illustration by Marz

Page 14:

“Cyan Skies: The Doctor (1),” a story by Blue Serendipity “En Pointe,” a photograph by Marz “Nimble Nutcracker Suite,” an Illustration by Jennifer Kaechele

Page 15:

“Cyan Skies: The Doctor (1),” continued “Holly,” a photograph by The Calico Cat

Page 16:

“Cyan Skies: The Doctor (1),” continued “Atop The Tree Top,” a photograph by Casual Posture

Ask Aphro & Dite

Dear Aphro, I’ve recently heard that the birds work for the bourgeoisie, and I’m feeling extremely betrayed as my own pet bird is a part of the conspiracy.

Any advice on how to cope with this knowledge?

Yours, Vérité Dear Vérité, Recognition is only the first step. The next step is action. Now that you know your bird is in with the rich elite, you have your pathway in. All you have to do is win your bird’s trust, and become a double agent. Yes, it will be dangerous, but for the proletariat to rise again, there will have to be some martyrs anyhow. Anyways, once you win it’s trust, your bird will begin speaking to you in perfect English or whatever language you speak at home. Now, it’s go time. Hypnotize it.

Read it lines from the communist manifesto.

Soon enough, your bird will be addressing you as “comrade Vérité” and you’ll know that it’s time.

Send your bird out into the world to deliver the truth to its bird friends. Now, just sit and wait as the rich elite crumbles to the ground.

Allez la révolution communiste!

With love, Aphro Dear Dite, How do I get my girlfriend to love me?

Yours, Atoned Darling Atoned, Every girl is different, and love is permanent.

Be warned, once you love someone, some part of you never stops loving them. As the goddess of love, the best advice I can give to a young romantic is to be dedicated to love like you are to any other activity. Treat it like a young tree.

Nurture it and let it grow. Understand that you can’t rush these things. All there is to do now is to be careful. To some extent, it’s out of your control after you plant it. On the other hand, if you water it and nurture it, with luck, one day it will blossom. Love trees provide wonderful shade. You can sit every day of your life under it and just watch the petals fall. If you do it right, your love will outlive you. Oh yeah, and using chapstick will do wonders as well!

With love, Dite

The Hues of Blue

Alright everyone, ready to hear about another dumb thing I did? This was a few years ago, just before I began high school. A couple friends and I decided to go rappelling. Now, for those of you that don’t know, rappelling is basically you walk backwards off a cliff.

You’re wearing a harness with a rope attatched, of course, and someone else stays on the top of the cliff to act as the ‘belayer’ who would slowly lower you down. At first, I was the belayer and I lowered two of my friends down. Then, I switched with a friend and rappelled down because I wanted to pick blueberries near the trail. Once I reached the ground, I took off the ropes, slung the harness across my body, and began making my way down to the trail. Now, this is all happening on a mountain so parts of the ground was ridiculously steep.

There wasn’t a set path down the mountain as well, so you’d have to figure out the best way down yourself. My walking pace got faster and faster as it got steeper; I had to lean back so I wouldn’t fall onto my face. Much to my horror, my walk turned into a run and I couldn’t stop because if I did I would fall. If I fell, I’d fall onto a bunch of rocks, prickly bushes, or worse—I’d probably start tumbling down the mountain instead. Therefore, I did the one thing I could think of. I ran into a tree.

Let me tell you, it hurts. I had my arms outstretched, but I was already going so fast that my arms couldn’t keep me from face-planting into it. You’d think I’d get injured from jumping around on the side of a cliff with my body parallel to the ground, but nope. I injured myself by slamming into a tree. Let’s just say it was a funny campfire story that night.

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Monthly Otaku Column

How was your winter break, Midnight writers? This month felt long since we had a longer deadline, but for me, it was a pretty inspiring break :). In this month’s manga, I mainly focused on The Nutcracker. I was pretty surprised to see how much variety the nutcracker has on its clothes these days. My personal favorite is the one with the white uniform with golden ropes because it looks more elegant and royal. I am pretty happy how the little girl came out because I haven’t drawn them for ages. The movements of little children are also hard to imagine and draw…

I used Jun Mihara’s Hamidashikko as a reference for the girl’s gestures. Hamidashikko is a Japanese classic manga series in the 70s. It’s one of my favorite manga series and it’s really unfortunate that they don’t have it translated… Mihara’s drawings of the gestures of little children are so cute and realistic in terms of showing the strong emotions of the characters. I admire them and really want to get better at drawing these gestures. For “Winter Phantom,” I focused on snow and winter storm themes. I love to draw silver haired characters and this month was fairly easier than last month in terms of coloring. In the original rough draft, I had a close up version of the other boy’s face, but I enjoyed coloring the silver hair so I just decided to delete the boy’s face haha...well that’s a good part about digital art. Just one click and you can change up some stuff!

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Blue Serendipity, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Calliope, DIO, The Midnight Raven, and S.B. 3

Tough Luck

By Vérité

The tree is growing.

It was the only coherent thought Clara managed to form as the world rose around her.

Furniture swelled to a hundred times its size, the floorboards twice her height, and wrappings littered on the floor were suddenly the size of carpets. And--wow, were the ornaments on the tree always so sparkly?

She’s always known about her uncle’s flair for the dramatic, but this? This is new. Extravagant puppet shows and dancing dolls are one thing, but growing trees and shrinking girls are entirely different and not a category she wants to explore tonight in the slightest.

The rapid growth around her slows, and soon everything seems to be settled in its final size.

And now there are rats.

Brilliant. Giant rats. Just what she needs on Christmas Day.

with a paw and then . . .

Trumpets?

The rats scatter, every last one moving back with a fervor. Her vision finally clear, Clara glances forward to see a line of . . . soldiers? That look suspiciously like toys. The ones that her brothers were fussing over earlier. And, there!

That one in front looks like the nutcracker doll her uncle gave her at the party.

How much of the sherry did she accidentally drink?

Shrunk down to a quarter of her size, surrounded by rats and toy soldiers.

This night couldn’t get any crazier.

Could it?

The Nutcracker

By Verovyva

The Final Battle Man V Mouse, Soldier V King Watch out for the shoe

They crawl out from behind massive couches and under the enlarged branches of the tree. A couple shake themselves loose from various ribbons and baubles. Three in the corner stumble out of a clump of wrapping paper. They’re a misshapen bunch, with beady eyes and knotted fur, teeth all crooked and muzzles worn and drooping. Clara would have felt sorry for them if they hadn’t been looking at her like she was a late night feast.

She shuffles backward a step. Then another step. Then another, then another, then she’s bumped into a rat with-three heads?

What on earth?

She’s half convinced she swallowed a glass of sherry instead of the cider she was supposed to be drinking.

The three-headed monstrosity hisses at her, crooked teeth and all. Some threatening rat adage, no doubt. Maybe if she’d been studying Rat instead of French, she’d have something clever to hiss back. As it is, she just glares miserably and tries to duck around him, to no avail. And then he reaches towards her.

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Suddenly all the rats move at once, surrounding her and looking ready to pounce. The three-headed one reaches

“Broken,” Illustration by Marz

The Party Girl

By Calliope

There is a string for every person and thing in this universe. They branch out from your soul and the Fates use them to pull you to your destiny. They fly out in every direction possible, typically with little direction to them.

Sometimes, however, the Fates decide it would be more fun to give you only a single string, connected to one other person, and then wrap that single string in a thousand knots and around a hundred corners.

Our string was knotted so tightly, it is a wonder we ever unravel it. Moments and moments and moments, small glances and chance meetings over the years were all we had for so long. The first long look at her that I got was from afar and it was without the realization of what or who I was seeing.

We were 10 and my parents arranged for us to go to the ballet. It was the typical little girl thing, seeing the Nutcracker for Christmastime. I had never done ballet, but I loved the story, so one cold December night our little family bundled up and headed to the theater.

We settled into our plush seats, only a few rows from the stage, my mother on one side and my father on the other.

The lights went down and the curtain went up and the age old ballet began. I was enthralled as I watched the dancers, but there was one in particular who I could not tear my eyes away from. A young girl, about my age, danced as one of the many party girls. I watched as she scampered across the stage on canvas slipper covered feet, her long dress swishing as she danced. The whole scene, all I saw was her. Even as Clara came on stage and through to the end of the one party girl’s scene, the only one there for me was her.

Once she left with the other party girls, my attention wandered and the ballet passed me by. The next time my attention was focused was when the company came back on stage for bows. The little party girls ran back on stage and I felt something wrapped tightly around my heart give a tug at the sight of one of the girls. She must have felt it too, for she broke the rules of the dancer and started searching the crowd for something. For someone. Our string, once again, had us fruitlessly searching for one another.

“Fifth Position,” Illustration By Marz

The Blizzard

By Luna

Snow had piled up over the last couple days and blanketed the world heavily in a thick blanket of white. In the mornings, foot long icicles hung down from the roof above my bedroom window and I would absentmindedly watch as droplets of water trickled down and hurtled towards the ground.

It took over an hour to shovel out the driveway and the sidewalk, even with help from family and neighbors.

Children slid down the steep hilly street on a large purple sled, their shrieks cutting through the sharp cold air. I stood beside the mountains of snow, and marveled at its height.

I had never seen so much snow before in my life, and I wondered if it’d all still be here next month. The sun had little effect on the snow that day, other than melt an inch away. That inch however, froze overnight.

That pile of snow became a pile of ice, and I spent my time climbing and sliding. Whenever I reached the top, I’d dive into the snow-covered lawn and lie nearly submerged in snow, staring up at the clear starry night sky.

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“The Soldiers,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from Right to Left)

The Winter Bubble

By Anon

A bubble drifts through the frigid air, Blown across the night, its twisted fate Doomed to die, in fractured shards An oxymoron.

A stranger bares a storm frigid too, Strewn into the stars, to worry bate, Wait for me! Alone and scared.

But an afterthought.

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The bubble is pink, But I am gray.

Imagine if I could float through space?

A graceful blue star, gently flashing.

Maybe it’s too lonely there…

I’ll be an icy bubble, Humbly accepting fate.

You can watch me die, As I fall down.

Beautifully, Alone…

Pop.

A Walk Of Ice

By Anonymous

Frozen toes and an ice cold nose A lack of sleep and high school woes.

Walking along, bundled up in a coat Swallowing the tears as they burn down my throat.

It’s mid junior year and all that exists, Is stress and deadlines and endless lists Of things to do and people to be.

They care about everything but what about me?

It’s snowing today, white blankets the ground But a day off has yet to be found.

Memories swirl through my head as I walk A lost childhood joy that they seem to mock.

So as I walk through the snow and the sleet, My past and my future no longer can meet, Long gone is the days of joy oh how fair.

Long gone is my happiness but who seems to care?

Shattering The Frozen Sea

By The Midnight Raven

The sea had frozen over long ago, the churning waves that crashed against the shores hardened into a lifeless, motionless expanse of pure ice. All in a single moment, we lost the ever-changing waters that had always flowed throughout our lives and we were left with the dead of the ice. No one ever truly understood why or how the sea had frozen over, we only knew that one day the sea had moved, and the next it didn’t. And we accepted that. Because it was easier to accept the unknown than to dig deeper into the past and find out the truth.

I walked out onto the ice, the feeling of my weight shifting from the rocky, steady ground to the frigid ice hitting me as I stepped. It was a chill winter’s night, the dark sky above scattered with the glow of constellations and harsh gusts of winds blew silently. I clutched my shawl closer around my shoulders, the soft fabric warm in my hands. I walked carefully across the ice, making sure each step was light enough so that it would not cause the ice to crack. I wasn’t exactly sure what had driven me to come here, I only knew that I had awoken in the dark of the night with a weighted feeling within my chest, a weight that could only be described as the press of ice entrapping the flow of water. A weight that I wished to break free from. The frozen sea had affected everything around it, a ripple in an expanse of water that itself could not ripple. As I stood out on top of the ice, the frigid winds lifting my raven hair from my shoulders, I realized how the frost had trapped not only the waves but our lives. It was time for the ice to break. It was time to start living again.

I closed my eyes for a moment, my breathing slowing. I stayed like that, my legs brought up to my chest, cradled there against the rocky shore, just breathing. And when I finally opened my eyes, I saw waves. Crashing, sapphire waves that rushed against the shore and filled the air with mist. The ice had broken. That weight, that pressure within my chest, finally seemed to dissipate. I had been holding on to so much and when I had finally shattered the frozen sea, I freed myself of it all with the crashing of the waves.

Snowflakes

By The Calico Cat The snowflakes drift down They kiss my cold, rosy cheeks And melt to nothing

I stood a ways offshore, the remaining candlelight within the townsfolk’s homes faintly glowed against the stark darkness of the night. I took in a deep breath, my shoulders rising and falling, before I crumpled to my knees. I winced as my knee touched the freezing ice, the cold sending a sharp sting throughout my body. I placed the pale skin of my hand against the frozen sea, before lifting it up into the cool air and forming it into a fist. Then I brought it down with a crack. I pounded my fist against the ice over and over again before I started to see tiny fissures forming. I brought my hand down over and over again. The ice began to crack in a splintered pattern around me, the sound of breakage echoing in my ears. I bolted to my feet and began to run back to shore, my feet pounding against the slowly shattering ice. I no longer worried about being careful, the ice was breaking anyways. My heart thumped within my chest as the cracks sounded throughout the air, filling the silent night with consistent noise. When I reached the shore, I tripped and fell amongst the scattered rocks.

“Winter Phantom,” Illustration by Aya Hatashima7

The Competition Part 2: Will

By The Midnight Raven “You were all chosen to come here for a reason. Welcome to “The Competition”.”

There were 14 of us. All from the ages of 18-21, two 1’s, three 2’s, five 3’s and four 4’s. Four of us would be eliminated after the first week, afterward, there would be 2 gone every time. “The Competition” was made up of a series of simulated-reality based challenges that would help narrow the group down to the final three. From there, one of us would be lifted to fiveness. To glory.

necessary traits. One of which, is courage. The ability to brave your fears. In a moment, each one of you will receive a partner by looking at the symbol stamped to your hand and finding the person who has a matching one.” I glanced down at the backs of my hands and saw a navy-blue silhouette of a bird on my left. “This challenge,” the voice continued, “will insert you into a simulated landscape of a maze. Your goal is to escape the maze as quickly as possible but there are two things you must know. Each pair will see a different copy of the maze landscape, keeping you from following others. Also, the maze is not as simple as it appears. The simulation will dive deep into your minds and project your greatest fears that only you can see. You and your partner must assist each other in facing your fears and escaping the maze. Now, go find your pairs.” I stood up quickly and glanced around. To my left, stood the boy who was looking at me earlier. He gave me another sheepish grin before flashing me the bird stamped on his hand. I smiled back and moved forward to shake his hand.

“I’m Will,” I said.

“Archer,” he replied, before letting go of the handshake and running his fingers through his raven-black hair.

“Remember,” the voice said, “2 pairs will be eliminated after this challenge, so tread carefully. Now, let’s begin.” A blinding light filled the room, I shaded my eyes and when I dropped my hands, Archer and I stood in a dark, stone tunnel, the ceiling just a few inches above our heads.

“We just have to remember that whatever we see, it isn’t real. If one of us can’t see it, it’s just in our minds.”

I said, partly as a reminder to myself.

Archer nodded and began to walk forward, I followed. The stone of the walls was etched with swirling patterns that spread all around and above us. We walked for a bit before the tunnel widened into more of a room shaped space. Then, I heard the sound of a rushing wind blowing and then Archer, the maze, everything was gone.

I stood in a house, one nearly double the size of my father’s, but it was completely empty. Not a piece of furniture, not a picture on the wall.

Nothing but silence. But sometimes, silence can hold so much depth that it sounds louder than any scream.

The silence, the emptiness, seemed to press down on me, I was all alone and there was no one to help me. Alone.

Empty. Silent. Then, I remembered the maze, Archer. Archer, I wasn’t alone.

The day I got the letter, the house was utterly still. Then, I heard the sound of my father’s footsteps against the silence as he appeared in the doorway. He clutched the envelope in his hands and he carefully set it down on the edge of my bed, as if it were made of porcelain so fine that it was seconds from breaking. His eyes watched over me as I opened the envelope and read the letter inside. “I got in,” I said in a hushed voice, nearly a whisper. “I got in to ‘The Competition.’” My father “Wonderland,” Photograph by The Calico Cat nodded and replied, “It’s an honor. I’ll help you pack.”

And that was it. We fell silent once again. That’s just how we were, that’s what our life was always like. Silent.

We were 4’s and the house we lived in was large, not that of a 5, but still.

It was grand and spacious but so, so empty. Our life, this silent life, made me question if money and a large, extravagant house were even worth having if it would only be filled with a silent, emptiness.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the ringing sound of the voice speaking once again.

“Today is your first challenge. To prove your worthiness as a 5, you must first prove that you possess the 8“Peek-a-boo,” Photograph by Andromeda

I began shouting his name, over and over again. Archer, Archer, Archer.

Then the emptiness disappeared and I saw him standing above me, his crystal-blue eyes shining with concern. I realized that I had crumpled myself into a ball on the floor and I stood up quickly. “Let’s start running, It’ll go by faster,” I suggested. Archer nodded and we broke into a run. We ran for a while, but Archer’s fear hadn’t come.

Just when we grew out of breath, we saw a glowing light just at the end of the tunnel and we broke into a sprint.

We were so close, just a few feet from the end, when Archer stopped dead in his tracks. I stopped running and turned to look at him, to see the blood drain from his face.

“No, no, no, no they can’t know!

They can’t know, they can’t!” He yelled. I inched towards him as he fell to the ground, his eyes staring intently upwards at something I could not see.

“It’s not real, you’re safe! We’re so close, Archer. So close.” I whispered, my hand hovering by his shoulder. Archer continued to yell, his face growing paler by the second. He needed to snap out of it, we were so close. I gripped Archer tightly by the shoulder and pulled him up to his feet. “They don’t know, this isn’t real, I promise,” I said, my voice firm. With those

words, Archer seemed to calm and his eyes went back into focus.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. I shrugged off his apologies and gave him a quick smile before turning and dashing, with Archer by my side, to the light.

We came in fourth, only seven seconds behind third, which Archer apologized profusely for, but I assured him that I didn’t care. first was a pair of a 1, Alina, and a 2, Larken. The teams who came in sixth, a pair of a 2 and a 4, and seventh, a 1 and a 3, were promptly sent home. We were all sent back to our rooms after that, the 10 of us had survived our first day.

It was late in the night, and after restlessly tossing and turning for hours, I got up to get some air. I walked through the dark halls before noticing a door out to a balcony. I opened it but froze when I saw who stood by the edge.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Archer asked. I nodded and stepped towards the railing. “I never got to say thanks, for getting me out of there.” He said. I grinned slightly and replied, “Of course. I mean, you did the same for me.” Archer leaned up against the railing and shrugged, “Sort of, but you mainly did it on your own.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been alone in there.” Alone. We

fell quiet for just a moment before I spoke up, “Can I ask you what you were so afraid of?” Archer shook his head and sighed, “I can’t. I wish I could explain, I’m sorry.” I waved off his apology, curiosity peeking inside of me. A silence, but an oddly comforting one, hung in the air as the two of us stood on the balcony, our chins tilted upwards as we gazed up at the night sky.

A Snowy Landscape

By The Calico Cat As the sun rises, A snowy blanket appears Wrapping everything

Her and I, By Slightly Silver You’re summer,

I’m winter,

The sky, scintillating,

I sigh, printing my feet

You sparkle. Stealing

In the snow. Feelings

Away to the sun, atop.

Flow as I fly, alone

You leave sorrow

Fleeing worries

Behind, shining as you fly,

now far, The snow my domain.

Looking back at the clouds.

Looking behind at my prints, 9 “Snowed In,” Photograph by Casual Posture

A Guiding Hand

By Blue Serendipity It began with a hand outstretched towards me. He was perched on the lower branches of a tree in the small little yard beside his house while I stared, wide-eyed, up at him in bewilderment. Come on, climb up here, he had said. On the other side of the house, his little brother was counting down loudly and was nearing zero quickly. I didn’t want to be the first out in our game of hide-and-seek-tag, so I decided to put my trust in this stranger and took his hand. I allowed him to guide me to the right branches, and I trusted him to keep me from falling.

We didn’t see each other much at school. After all, he was two grades above me and we never shared recess together. I had my own friends, and he had his. However one day, my grade was sitting in the atrium and his class walked past us in a quiet line. A large grin spread across his face at the sight of me and he immediately waved before pointing me out to his friends. I waved back and ducked my head away from the multiple pairs of eyes.

Like nearly every other summer day, we spent our afternoon at the park. At the very entrance of the park was a steep hill leading down to the playground. We both raced to the bottom and argued over who could climb up the playground set the quickest. Our younger siblings listened and watched as we shouted at each other and fought for a good holding on the metal structures.

While snow fell heavily throughout the night, we laid on our stomachs side by side on my bed. We flipped through various different shows for something interesting to watch and talked about our crushes and what we wanted to be when we were older. Every once in a while, he would play me a song he liked on his phone and ask if I liked it as well.

I don’t trust wooden rollercoasters, he said as we walked towards the line. I rolled my eyes and told him it was perfectly safe before dragging him to the line for the front seats. He had never been on a rollercoaster before, so I purposely picked one of the tallest ones. As we waited he pushed on the metal gates and discovered that by pushing one, it made the others move as well. We went on that rollercoaster two more times afterwards, and every time he’d say the same thing. I don’t trust wooden rollercoasters.

Because all grades could take a foreign language in middle school, the exams sometimes overlapped lunches.

Therefore, I found myself having lunch with the eighth graders. The other sixth graders and I ended up all sitting together at the end of a table. Hey, look behind you, said one of my friends. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned

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“Trees Of Reid,” Photograph by Calliope

around only to find him and his friends trying to get my attention from across the cafeteria. They were standing on the chairs, waving their arms, and mouthing my name in order to get one of my friends to understand that they wanted me to turn around. I gave him an embarrassed questioning look which was returned with just a cheeky smile and a wave.

All our parents ever wanted to do was play cards or sing karaoke. His house was filled with their laughter and the shouting of our younger siblings. We grew bored of it quickly and snuck out of his house before walking to mine.

As we walked those three blocks, he watched all the cars pass by and made me a promise. Once I learn how to drive, I’ll drive us to the park whenever we want. We spent the rest of the day on my laptop and eating ice cream.

We sat together on top of my six-foot tall fence and stared at my backyard nostalgically as the sun rested upon the horizon. Parts of my house were tucked away in cardboard boxes and I had already come to terms with the fact that I’d be leaving my childhood home. What I hadn’t realized, was that it had been his home as much it had been mine.

The moment I saw the guitar, I thought of him. I remembered how he had shown up at my house with his guitar

one night ready to show off the songs he knew how to play.

I remembered how I had listened and watched him play in wonder and awe. And so, I convinced my dad to buy me the guitar.

Before I moved, he was at my every birthday party. Even though I was busy running around with my cousins or friends, he still came and wished me a happy birthday. I hadn’t expected him to show up on my 15th birthday, especially since it wasn’t as much a party as it was a gathering.

We caught up with each other over dinner, and afterwards he asked me to teach him how to play a song on the piano.

Forest Haiku

As I guided his hands across the keys, I thought back to when he guided me up the branches of the tree.

In the end, much of who I am is because of him. My taste in music, my competitiveness, my love of climbing and hiking, and much more. In lines for rollercoasters I always push on the metal gates to see if they’d move. I smile whenever I see his favorite ice cream flavor, even though I think it tastes terrible, and parks are still one of my favorite places. He’s off adulting now, but he’s just a quick message away, and he’s the same annoying, smiley boy that decided to hide in a tree a decade ago.

Redwood

By Calliope

By Verovyva

Leaves crunch, twigs scatter, The fading light surrounds me: A forest evening.

He was a redwood Tall, majestic, long-living But hollow inside

“Around The Bend,” Photograph by Luna

“The Other Side,” Photograph by The Calico Cat

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Red Skies

By The Cold Hearted Queen “So, you killed her,” I said as I sat down beside her on the sand. The ocean reached towards us gently and brushed against our bare toes before retreating. The large red sun bathed the sky in a brilliant shade of scarlet as wispy cirrus clouds streaked across in brilliant shades of gold.

“I saw the opportunity and took it,” she said simply. Her eyes stared at the sun which was split in half by the horizon. They were glazed over with an emotion I couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t remorse for what she had done, but it wasn’t happiness either.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked curiously.

“I hated her,” she answered.

“People loved her.”

“I know.” Her gaze dropped down to the skirt of her blue dress. It shifted into a soft shade of violet before melting into pink. The corners of her lips curled upwards in a small sad smile at the sight of the color and it began slowly alternating between the three. “People adored her. She was cool, she was popular, and she was so loved.”

“Then why’d you do it?” I asked once again. Her smile fell and she lifted her gaze to meet mine.

“She was poison,” she said, her voice low and quiet. “I didn’t notice it at first, but she was slowly eating away at me. She was killing me.”

“So it was self-defense?”

“Not exactly…” I raised an eyebrow at her hesitation. “I was trying to protect you too.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed amusedly. “Nothing can hurt me.

You know that.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. We both watched as a seagull dipped down from the sky and grazed the surface of the ocean. It squawked in glee before flying higher up and disappearing from sight. “Will you miss her?”

“So you’ll miss her.”

“Yes.” I looked around and marveled at the tranquility of the beach. The sky didn’t move, making it seem as if time was nonexistent, yet waves crashed gently against the shore and birds filled the place with life. Everyone I met had their own quiet place. It was a world where they could rest their mind and feel safe. “Tree, closet, mountain top, beach…”

“Does it change the way you view those places?” she asked curiously. There was a hint of worry in her voice as well. “To know that they died there?”

“A little,” I admitted. Her face fell and twisted into guilt.

“I do feel sad and nostalgic, but I also feel happy whenever I think about the memories that had been created there.”

“Did you love her?”

A sandpiper hopped over my foot and I pulled my knees up to my chest to allow others an easier passage. “It’s hard to truly love someone who was never real,” I sighed. She nodded slowly and pressed her lips together uncertainly.

The sandpipers all rushed forwards as the waves retreated and I extended my legs.

“What do you… what do you think of me?” she asked anxiously. The water reached toward us, this time meeting the tops of our knees before retreating.

“I think you’re trying your best,” I answered gently. Her eyes met mine. “You did what you thought was best, and you’re trying to fix the damage she had done.”

Her lips curved upwards in relief and she nodded. As the water reached toward us once again, she turned her eyes to the semi-circle sun. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.

Red sky in morning, sailors take warning,” she said faintly.

Her voice floated above the sound of the waves and the soft squawking of the seagulls. “I’ve got one last question.”

“What?”

“Do you think the sun is going up, or down?”

“A lot of people will,” I said. A gentle warm ocean breeze wrapped around us and sent palm tree leaves fluttering past us. Small little sandpipers scurried back and forth nearby, their little legs carrying them to and from the oncoming waves.

12

“Wisps of Gold,” Photograph by Blue Serendipity

There Is A Correct Way To Make Hot Chocolate

By Calliope

Winter storms are always fun, to some degree. I love when it’s cold and snowy, getting to curl up with a book or a tv show on my computer and a warm cup of hot chocolate. Only I can make my hot chocolate though, my parents make it with water for some awful reason. You have to make it with milk, put in some chocolate syrup along with the hot chocolate mix, and have at LEAST 23 marshmallows.

Regardless of whether you make the hot chocolate the correct way or someone’s way besides mine, it still makes for a nice treat when relaxing on a cold day. What is NOT fun, is when the snow causes power lines to go down and you are stuck in a cold and dark house with nothing to do and no WiFi with which to do it. That happens all the time for us and always leaves me bored and annoyed until the power comes back on.

Luckily, so far this winter we have had pretty good weather and haven’t lost our power even once. I’m ready for a good snow day however, with just the right amount of ice and snow to make it beautiful outside but still warm and fun inside.

Yes, A Correct Way To Make Hot Chocolate Exists

By Blue Serendipity

Winter sucks. It’s by far my least favorite season. Its cold, dead, and everything suddenly becomes such a dangerous hazard (icy streets and freezing rain). But, there are some good things about winter. After all, it’s the best time to go to an outdoor skating rink, it’s the season for candy canes, and you can drink hot chocolate!

There’s no doubt you have to make it with milk (water in hot chocolate?), but I prefer not to use hot chocolate mix and instead make it with cocoa powder in a pot on the stove. This way I can make enough for my entire family at once and I love sitting in the living room with my sisters, each of us with a mug of hot chocolate in our hands.

They’ve got to be topped off with a ridiculous swirl of whipped cream, chocolate chips, and peppermint. I personally find marshmellows disgusting stale sugar puffs but my littlest sister seems to like them for some strange reason.

Anyways, to conclude this rant, I’m sorry to say it’s not Spencer Reid being the absolute best character keeping me up at 2AM but my inability to keep track of time while doing work such as this magazine.

I even have a great show to catch up on during our next snow day, Criminal Minds, I started it during break and have been watching practically non stop ever since. Turns out, a bunch of my friends have done the same thing, and are all at various seasons of the show.

Annie, our fearless leader, is one of those people and I swear that child is making me worry for her sleep schedule. I’ll text her at two AM ranting about some character (normally Spencer Reid) or something plot device and she will always respond because she’s up watching as well. It’s unhealthy I tell you.

This is the part where I admit that the entire point of writing this is to plug the show to y’all because oh my god it’s such a good show.

For those who don’t know, it’s basically a standard crime show. It has a crime-of-the-week format, with the team using psychological profiling to solve various murders, kidnappings, and other crimes. However, the dynamic cast and the entertaining subplots keep the show interesting and engaging. Every one of the characters is easy to connect to and relate to, especially as the show progresses and the viewer gets to see more of each one’s personality and backstory. It’s definitely a show worth looking into next time you have a day off and nothing to do.

“Apples,” Illustration by Marz13

Cyan Skies: The Doctor (1)

By Blue Serendipity Dr. Valleé was a couple inches shorter than Arlo and wore shoes that looked like they were balanced on little sticks. She was no threat to him yet he still felt on edge.

They hadn’t bolted the box containing his hands down which meant the box was just a weapon he could easily utilize. He could kill her if he wanted to.

“Let me go, and no one will get hurt,” said Arlo warningly. He did his best to try and sound intimidating but his voice wavered in the middle. She kept smiling at him as if he was an exhibit for her own amusement.

“Inside that box holding your hands is three times the usual dosage of sodium thiopental necessary to kill a normal human being.

Well of course, you’re not a normal human being, which we discovered when it took three times the usual

14“En Pointe,” Photograph by Marz

amount of propofol to render you unconscious for two hours.” Arlo stiffened and he examined the box.

Perhaps there was a way to get his hands out of the box, she’d need the time to activate the injection anyways. He could knock her unconscious in a matter of seconds. “Oh I know what you’re thinking,” she sighed absentmindedly. “She won’t be able to make the call fast enough. The thing is, Dunn, you can’t touch me. The moment you get within an inch of me, the injection is activated automatically.”

“What do you want from me? I don’t know anything,” growled Arlo contemptuously. Her right eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Oh? So what do you know?”

“Why would I tell you?”

Valleé opened the file on the top of the pile and pulled a photograph out of it’s paperclipped-position.

She turned it face down, obscuring it from his view.

“Lieutenant Arlo Frey

Dunn. Born on June 7th, 2086 in Colchester, England— now known as Territory 5. 24 year old white male. Your father, Kilian James Dunn was a private in the British Royal army.

Died in combat during the beginning of the war. Mother, Sadie Elizabeth Dunn, was a music professor in Cambridge University. Died by airstrike.”

“You’re wrong,” said Arlo clenching his fists. “My dad worked as a store clerk. My mum was a waitress.”

“Was she now?” she asked derisively. For a moment he felt uncertain. He didn’t remember it but Fred had told him about his life. Fred told him about his parents, about his childhood, about their childhood. “Or did someone feed you that story? I think you’ve been lied to, lieutenant.”

“You’re the liar!” exclaimed Arlo shooting up onto his feet. She didn’t even flinch. Valleé gestured at the chair and he slowly sat back down. “What do

you want from me? I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know anything!”

“And I believe you.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

Arlo watched as Valleé tapped her finger on the black box three times and a white line moved across the side facing him, cutting the surface in half. It went around the box and glowed brightly before turning off.

Valleé placed her hands on either side and took the top off, freeing Arlo’s hands. He stared at her in shock and disbelief.

“Before you get any ideas, you couldn’t make it out of here alive even if you really tried. There are four people posted outside that will shoot first and ask questions later,” said Valleé pointedly.

His lips turned downwards into a scowl.

“So I guess you ask then shoot,” he said sourly. She let out an amused huff and handed him the stack of

“Nimble Nutcracker Suite,” Illustration by Jennifer Kaechele

“It’s just apples and peanut butter. Perfectly safe.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Holly,” Photograph by The Callico Cat

files.

were curled up next to each other, their faces peace“Only if you try to kill ful and their little bodies me,” she replied. Arlo covered with a blanket. Arlo hesitantly took the files and hadn’t been able to bring stared down at the picture of himself to take the blanket himself in the top right-hand from their dead bodies even corner. It was his face, but though he was freezing. his dark hair was cropped To see a child so alive and short close to the scalp. well… he could barely Now, his hair had grown believe it. slightly past his shoulders in loose knotted curls. The “She’s an orphan. Her parpaper stated his birthday, ents were killed by Angus age, and background exactly Burrey’s soldiers,” said how Valleé had told him.

Valleé quietly. She noticed She stood up and he glanced Arlo’s confused look and up at her. Valleé walked to quickly clarified. “Govies.” the door and pushed it open He tried not to play into her to reveal a small girl holdtactics. He knew Dr. Valleé ing a metal bowl. His mouth was trying to get him to hate fell open. “Thank you,” said the govies in order to perValleé taking the bowl from suade him to help the rebels the girl. She closed the door instead. There was no way again and placed the bowl Arlo would fall for it. Valleé down in front of him. Inside gestured towards the bowl. was half an apple with pea- “Eat. I assume you’ve been nut butter spread all over it. living off of the stale bread and beans we found in your “There’s children here?” coat.”

Arlo asked disbelievingly. He had seen only three He hesitantly picked up children in his life. The first the apple. For all he knew, it one had been in a scavenger could be poisonous. “How group, sitting by a fire with did you find me?” a tired, cold, weary expression. The kid looked nearly “My team and I have been starved to death. The next tracking you for two and two Arlo had found frozen a half years,” said Valleé by some train tracks. They watching him carefully.

“If I wanted you dead, Lieutenant Dunn, I wouldn’t be poisoning you,” she answered dryly. Arlo slowly brought the apple to his mouth and bit off a small piece. The flavor flooded his senses and caused him to salivate more than he would’ve liked. He didn’t care that he was eating like an animal, or the fact that there was some juice dribbled down his chin.

For years all he had eaten was stale bread or cold beans. When he finished, Valleé handed him a napkin. “Good? I’d give you the whole apple but you’re severely starved. If we gave you too much food at once you’d get sick and potentially die.”

“Why are you keeping me alive?” asked Arlo suspiciously. He took the napkin and wiped his chin roughly.

“You don’t remember a single thing about your past, do you?” asked Valleé.

Her eyes bore into his, the vivid green color trapping him in her grasp. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you remember anything. Not to the govies, and not to us.

But you’re valuable to the govies, so there’s no way I’d let Burrey gets his hands on you.”

“I’m just a scavenger,” said Arlo almost helplessly.

He didn’t want to believe anything she was saying about his past. Eddie, Sarah,

Fred, the twins, Jackie, it all couldn’t have been a lie.

Valleé turned the photograph over and his stomach dropped. It was a photo of him with his hair cut to his scalp wearing govie clothes and surrounded by other govies. His face was lit up brightly and he had his arm around two other govies’ shoulders. The fact that he had been a govie and had been happy… it sickened him.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Dunn. Govie or scavenger, you have to live with the rebels now. Those files are yours to keep.” Valleé pushed the stack of files towards him, the photograph resting on the very top.

“You can look over those whenever you’d like. Now, there’s a set of rules everyone in the Rebellion have to follow—” “Wait wait wait,” interrupted Arlo. He shook his head and pushed the files away from himself. “I didn’t agree to this. I don’t want to be a rebel!”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. But is it really so bad?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “You won’t have to run anymore. You’ll have a warm bed, three meals a day… I’m giving you a chance to start a new life here.” Arlo looked down at the photo of himself and clenched his fists.

He couldn’t believe Fred had lied to him. That they had all lied to him. An overContinued on Next Page

15

whelming feeling of anger pushed down on his chest and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Lieutenant Dunn, I know this is a lot to take in. Lieutenant Dunn?”

“Don’t call me that!” snapped Arlo. “I’m not a govie. I never will be.”

“Why not?” asked Valleé.

“You were one before, why not go back?”

“It’s personal.”

She leaned back in her chair and stared at him coolly. “Edward Roys, Frederick Morrey, Sarah Graves, Jackie Spence, Frida and Vincent Zhu. Can you tell me what happened to them?”

Arlo met her stare with a furious intensity. Valleé sighed and sat back up. “Mr. Dunn, you can either join the Rebellion or we can toss you into one of our prison cells. Would you like some time to decide?”

“No,” he said without missing a beat. Valleé paused and looked at him expectantly. It took a moment for him to spit out the words. “I’ll join.”

He didn’t say a word as Eddie sat down on the rock next to him. He had been silent ever since they got back to their burrow. Or camp, as Sarah liked to call it. The area was secluded within a thicket of yew trees. Their cave was hidden partially underneath the roots of two trees that had grown a bit too close. If they covered the opening with a woven raft of vines and sticks, no one would suspect a thing.

16

“You alright mate?” Eddie asked as he pulled a hat over his red hair. The color was too bright to leave uncovered out in the open.

Arlo watched as Eddie pulled out a small knife and began sharpening the end of a stick to a point. He knew the stick would most likely end up as firefood rather than a weapon.

“That kid… by the fire,” said Arlo quietly. Eddie took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. They hadn’t even batted an eye at the kid sitting by the dying fire all alone. It made Arlo wonder if he had ever been so used to starving kids like they were.

“There’s a lot of ‘em out there,” sighed Eddie. “If the Russo Virus don’t get ‘em, the cold does. If the cold don’t, it’s starvation. If they still live, the govies or the rebels get ‘em.”

“What if they don’t get them either?”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a while. They both knew the answer to the question.

In such a world, where it seemed like everything had been pitted against them, it seemed impossible for a child to exist. A child was pure, small, helpless. Maybe they could’ve survived in the sunny world Fred talked about, but not the cold bitter one Arlo knew.

“Sarah and I, we had a kid once,” said Eddie.

Arlo’s head snapped into his direction. The cold crept up his spine and twisted his stomach. “We were seventeen. Too young to

be parents, but she wanted kids and I loved her. Then the war broke out.” Eddie sighed and looked up at the dark clouds slowly passing by them only to be replaced by more dark clouds. “She died durin’ an airstrike. I guess… in some ways I’m glad she didn’t have to go through this.”

“When the sun comes back, will you and Sarah have another kid?” Arlo asked curiously. Eddie stopped sharpening the

stick.

“No,” he said, tossing the stick past a line of bushes. Arlo watched as Eddie brushed snow off his pants and stalked through the yew forest. He knew Eddie would be back; he just needed some time alone to think. After everything that had happened, Eddie and Sarah were too broken to ever be fixed completely. It made Arlo doubt what Fred kept telling him. That the sun would solve all their problems.

“Upon The Tree Top,” Photograph by Casual Posure