January 2021
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Cover: “Green Hopes and Dreams,” an illustration by Page 11: Aya Hatashima
This Page: “The State of Pokémon,” an illustration by Bleach Lord
“A Mane of Fire,” a story by Lola “Flames in the Darkness,” a photograph by The Calico Cat “three haikus in candlelight,” a poem by Vérité “Light,” a poem by The Cold Hearted Queen
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Ask Aphro & Dite
• A Worried Sibling thinks their sister is making sacrifices to a cult • Someone wants help sticking to their New Years resolution
The Hues of Blue
• Blue remembers an incident with the police
Monthly Otaku Column
• Aya talks about a Netflix series and Ancient Greece
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“Sing of the Moon - The Collection,” a story by Verovyva “Light from Above,” a photograph by The Calico Cat
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“Sing of the Moon - The Collection,” continued “Sleepover,” an illustration by Poppy
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“Sing of the Moon - The Collection,” continued “Greed,” an illustration by Bleach Lord
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“Sing of the Moon - The Collection,” continued “Monogram M,” a manga by Aya Hatashima
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“The Tale of the Constellations,” a poem by The Midnight Raven “Helio!” an illustration by Cupid “The Olive Grove by the Sea,” a poem by The Midnight Raven
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“Moonlit,” a story by Vérité “Path of Leaves,” a photograph by The Observer
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“Without Light,” a story by The Midnight Raven “A New Year,” a poem by Blue Serendipity “Missing Work,” a poem by Lola “Ten!” an illustration by Cupid 2
“Rootless and Free,” a poem by The Midnight Raven “Walking On A Bridge Over The Creek Looking Out At The River On The Bloody Way To Practice At 5:30 In The Bloody Morning God Damn Why Couldn’t I Have Picked A Normal Sport It Is 31 Degrees Out And I’m Wearing A Tank Top I Hate This Cursed Sport Hey @ Coach Try Having Practice At A Time When Normal Human Beings Are Awake Maybe??” a photograph by Calliope
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“Adelaide (3),” a story by Blue Serendipity “This Is The Result Of Me Running 10 Miles in 90 Degree Weather: I Lie In The Middle Of My Road And Take Photos Of The Cherry Blossoms. Even Dead Tired I’m A Photography God,” a photograph by Calliope
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“Adelaide (3),” continued “I Literally Have No Idea What To Call This To Be All Clever But Let’s Pretend That I Did,” a photograph by Calliope
Ask Aphro & Dite
Dear Aphro, I think my sister is trying to do sacrifices for some kind of cult. What should I do? Yours, A Worried Sibling Dear Worried Sibling, My, that’s quite worrisome indeed. First of all, you should make sure cult sacrifices is really what she’s doing. Maybe she’s just recently gotten into candles or has an innocent fascination with cults? Either way, you don’t want to jump to conclusions. A good idea would be to just ask her what she’s doing. If it turns out she really is making cult sacrifices, you need to gauge the severity of the situation. Then, decide from there what the next best thing to do is. Perhaps that’s talking to your parents or a teacher. Perhaps that’s calling the police. But then again, if she’s making sacrifices to me... well then you need not worry. With love, Aphro Dear Dite, How do I stick to a New Years resolution? Yours, A Goal-Chaser Darling Goal-Chaser, Try picking a long term goal and then making little shorter goals within it. That way, you will be reaching self-set milestones as time passes and it will keep you motivated. A lot of people fail to keep their resolutions because they make them unrealistic and there is no pay-off until the end of the year. Without a short term goal, they begin to forget about their resolution. But even if you forget about your resolution for a few weeks, don’t give up! Just do your best to do what you can. Good luck! With love, Dite
The Hues of Blue
This month I have yet another story that takes place at my old house. It was late at night and I was once again looking out my window. I was checking to see if all the cars were in the driveway which would mean everyone was home. Sure enough, they were all accounted for. Before I went back to bed however, I noticed a figure walking around my dad’s van. It was strange. There was no way my dad was going anywhere, and there was no reason for him to be walking in circles around it. Much to my surprise and horror, multiple police cars began pulling up in front of my house from both sides of the road. The figure jerked and rushed behind the van, disappearing into the shadows of our cars. I started yelling at my sister and running into my parent’s room, shouting about how there was a man hiding behind our cars and there were police everywhere. We all ran into my room and watched as over 12 police cars stopped on our street. It was insane. After all, what could this person possibly have done to warrant a police chase of this scale? They stayed for about 15 minutes, the street clogged with police cars., Bbefore, we saw a group of police officers crowded around a man sitting at the corner of the street. Three officers talked to one of my neighbors who demanded to know what was going on. Other houses began turning on their lights. A group of officers walked toward my house and to the side gate. My family and I wasted no time running downstairs and questioning the officers who had begun searching our backyard. Apparently, the man they were after had hopped backyards and they believed he had dropped something. I personally would like to believe the man had drugs or something and it wasn’t something more sinister. But why would so many police show up? After all that has happened with the police in 2020, we can all make a few guesses as to why. Anyways, it was quite a freaky event to see and definitely not a memory I’ll be forgetting any time soon.
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Monthly Otaku Column
The themes this month were candles and presents. I know these are loosely related, but I drew a manga about writing a letter. I like watching ASMRs of wax seals and calligraphy, which definitely inspired me to draw this. However, I was most inspired by this Netflix original series, Violet Evergarden. It is an anime series about Violet, an orphan girl who was in an army since her childhood, becoming an “Auto Memory Doll” - people who assist with writing letters to others in need. She fought in a war and was treated as nothing more than a weapon. She is seeking the meaning of “I love you,” words uttered by Gilbert Bougainvillea. He is a major of the army and her beloved who adopted her, trained her as a soldier, and the first to treat her as a human being. Through the letters she writes, she learns the many meanings of emotions and what it means to love someone. The art is breathtaking, and it was such an emotional plot that it was the only anime that has made me cry. Violet was a character I really cared about, and I was glad she found hope in her life. I’m glad I joined Netflix (don’t judge me, our family finally subscribed to it this month). The illustration I drew was inspired by Ancient Greek sculptures. I had this idea stored for months, but it’s only now that I had enough time to finish it. I always wanted to try layering and the oil painting style on digital art. I’m glad I put time into this. I am currently taking AP Art History, and I really enjoy exploring different art from different times of history. So far, my favorites are the Hellenistic, Renaissance, and Baroque periods.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Blue Serendipity, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Calliope, Bleach Lord, The Midnight Raven, Cupid, and Vérité. 3
Sing of the Moon The Collection By Verovyva
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There was always something comforting about watching the rest of the world sleep. Looking outside the window when the only light is the yellow cascading over the street, or on some clear nights such as this one, the silvery orb shining in the sky. Your senses are muted but your feelings are amplified, like a distant siren sings a song to which your soul dances. The dark had always felt like a friend for as long as I could remember. I had been told that I used to be afraid; I still had the butterfly nightlight I supposedly could never sleep without, but I couldn’t actually remember what it felt like to be intimidated rather than calmed. I pushed myself up onto the table next to the window, careful not to make too much noise. Even though I lived alone, it didn’t feel right to disturb the peaceful silence. The scene outside was bathed in moonlight, reflecting off the snow that had fallen the previous night. It was too beautiful for it to be wasted away by sleep. “Are you there?” a small voice asked, almost giving me a heart attack. My gaze snapped over to my bed. There was a child laying on it—a child I did not recognize. I could feel my heart beating faster. Who was she and how did she get in here? She looked like she could have been my daughter— except, I was single and had never had a child. “Who are you?” I hesitantly asked. “I had a bad day today.” She said, staring up at the ceiling where glowing stars were plastered into constellations. I didn’t have stars on my ceiling. I looked around the room. Everything was different, as if I had somehow broken the rules of reality and been teleported into another room. The space was slightly larger and messier with toys and children’s drawings all over the walls. The girl’s room? Upon closer inspection I recognized some of the drawings. It was still dark but the pictures were unmistakably mine. Everything in this room was mine. Or at least they had been decades ago. That meant the child on the bed could only be one person. Me. But that wasn’t possible. “Hello?” I asked but she didn’t respond. I moved closer and touched her arm but she didn’t seem like she could notice I was there. “It wasn’t bad, bad but it wasn’t good either,” she continued. “I’m sorry to hear that,” another voice spoke, making me jump a little. It was a deep voice that I couldn’t recognize but it still felt familiar. Standing on the other side of the room was a figure cloaked in black, almost blending into the shadows. Their hood cast a shadow over their eyes and nose but the lower half of their face was visible. It looked
human, but they had a pale complexion that seemed more silver than a light skin tone. They showed no indication of seeing me. “Tomorrow will be better, I think. I still remember what you said, about letting yourself be sad but not letting it make the future sad.” Dang. Whoever this person was, they were giving me some good life advice. “Maybe a gift will help cheer you up.” A silver hand rose from the depths of the cloak. A small flower materialized above its palm and floated over towards the girl. The white petals appeared to glow in the darkness. A yellowish hue spread from the golden stamen in the middle, like a thin star. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Charon.” “You’re welcome. It’s called a moonflower. They only bloom at night and close up during the day.” “Is this one going to be okay? Since there’s no roots or stem?” She asked as she played around with it, lifting the flower into the air and letting it slowly drift back down. “Don’t worry, it’s one of my own flowers. I made sure it would survive.” Charon caught the flower on his finger and gently blew golden powder out of it. The way it shimmered and glowed reminded me of Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long tonight.” “You’re leaving?” “I’m sorry. There’s someone you need to meet though, so you’re not going to be lonely. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Little me nodded and Charon made another flower bloom in her hair. Then, like he was melting into the shadows, he was gone. “Are you who I’m supposed to meet?” I had been staring at the now empty space and didn’t realize the child was talking to me now. “Um, I guess so.” “Hello, I’m Ophelia.” Now that she was sitting up and looking at me, I could see her more clearly. Ophelia’s brown eyes, black in the dark lighting, resembled ones I saw in the mirror everyday. Her shoulder length hair was a haircut I remembered donning in elementary school but also hated.
“Light from Above,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
“Sleepover,” Illustration by Poppy
“I think I’m you, but in the future,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tell her this, but I was here for a reason, right? “Really?” she gasped, “you look so beautiful.” “We look beautiful,” I corrected. Might as well start the self-confidence lessons early. It was kind of weird to be talking to myself. This was like one of those “if you met your younger self, what would you tell them” scenarios but I’d never actually given those questions a lot of thought. “What is the future like?” she asked, “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want my life to be a tragedy because I found out about my future.” I laughed. I had forgotten how dramatic I could be. “Don’t worry I won’t tell you everything, but a lot happens. There’s some bad stuff but there’s so much good too.” “Are you an artist like you said you were going to be?” she asked. I tried to smile so that my answer wouldn’t disappoint her. “No.” “Why not?” I thought about it. How do you tell a child that life doesn’t always go your way? That people tell you to follow your dreams but crush them when they don’t align with society’s expectations? But it was more than just trying to preserve innocence. It was a question I needed to ask myself. Why didn’t I become an artist? All the obstacles suddenly felt trivial. “There are some decisions that I regret making, but there’s never a time that you should stop making dreams come true.” “Have you fallen in love yet?” I recalled all the past dates I had been on but never felt anything click. They took a bit of a mental toll on me until I realized that I was perfectly happy being on my own. With some friends of course. “In a way, yes.” Little me suddenly looked sad. Did my answer disappoint her? “I’m scared. I don’t want to be like mommy and daddy,” she said quietly. I frowned. Mom had left shortly after I
turned one, leaving Dad and his family to take care of me. “Daddy said that he loved mommy very much but sometimes people fight instead of talking to each other. Remember? That’s why I —we met Charon.” It was like a memory lit up in the back of my head and pieces of my childhood started to fall back into places I didn’t even realize were missing. It had all started with a tea party. I remembered the way my heart pounded in my chest as I climbed out of bed and into the darkness. I’d kept an eye on the shadows cast from the butterfly night light, as if they’d jump off the walls. I’ll be brave, I told myself as I plopped down on the small plastic chair. “Hello,” I whispered. “I have tea and cupcakes. Well not really, but I’m too small to make any real ones so daddy gave me playdough instead. You can’t eat it though.” It’d suddenly felt stupid. Talking myself in the darkness and all my legs wanted to do was climb back into the safety of the blanket. But just as I was about to do so, I heard him. “I’m not much of a cupcake person anyways.” There he was, standing on the other side of the table. I would have screamed or made a run for it to the bed but I felt frozen. He moved the too-small-for-him stool away and knelt so that he was closer to my height. “Would you like some tea?” Silvery hands reached out to the teapot and tipped it towards my cup. I gasped as a glowing blue liquid streamed out. He poured some in his own cup and settled the pot back into the center of the table. Like a chimney, blobs of blue started flowing out of the spout and floated around, illuminating the tea party. I poked one of the bubbles and giggled as it bounced away. This wasn’t so scary. “You should try tasting it,” he said, lifting up his own cup. It tasted warm and sweet, like hot chocolate on a snowy christmas morning, but it was a flavor I was unfamiliar with. “It tastes amazing.” “I’m glad you like it,” he smiled. “It’s one of my favorite drinks.” “My name is Ophelia. What is yours?” “I have many. You may know me as the monster under your bed or in your closet. Others know me as Death or the Grim Reaper. I’ve gotten Boogeyman and Hatman a few times as well.” “What do you want me to call you?” He thought for a moment, sipping on the tea. “Charon.” “That’s a nice name.” “Thank you. Tell me, Ophelia, are you afraid of me?” My heart was still running a few laps in my chest but I didn’t have the urge to run away anymore. When I didn’t immediately respond Charon added, “It’s okay if you are but I hope you know I don’t want to hurt you.” “I know.” I drank a bit more of the tea. Liquid happiness, 5
I decided to call it. “I think I’m afraid because I don’t know “Greed,” Illustration by Bleach Lord a lot about you, like I don’t know what is in the dark. I just assume it’s scary but assumptions can be wrong. I don’t want to be afraid though, and I don’t think I should be.” Charon waved his hand over the playdough cupcakes and they became real ones. “How about a peace offering?” That would be the first night. There were so many nights and so many memories but I couldn’t seem to remember where it all ended. “I’m sorry, I made things sad,” Ophelia said, fidgeting with her blanket. “There’s no need to apologize.” I told her, my mind still buzzing with confusion. What happened between childhood and adulthood? “Can you sing me a song?” Ophelia asked, “I bet you have a pretty singing voice.” “Alright,” I said, “like a lullaby?” “Mhm.” She fell backwards onto the bed and covered herself in the blankets. I sat down on one of her plastic stools and thought of a song to sing. “We like to sing of the moon as it sometimes gets shy Running from lovers through starry-eyes skies Morning comes quick bringing tragic goodbyes But nothing ever really dies, right? So we sing of the moon and the face that it hides Shining just half of its truth to our skies But bring me the sun that gives it all its light I don’t want to just wait to die, alright.” By the time I reached the end, Ophelia had fallen asleep. “You’ve grown so much,” Charon’s voice said from behind me. “How did I forget all of this?” I asked. “It’s not your fault. You might remember that I represent people’s fears. I don’t intentionally cause it, but I guide people through it. Fear and pain is necessary to grow. I came to you when you didn’t want to be afraid of the dark and I showed you what can shine and grow in the darkness. That’s also why you would see me in this cloak. The you now would actually see me as this.” Charon shrunk shorter so that he was now my height and the cloak wrapped around him tightly. Now, the figure that stood in front of me looked like a collection of black scribbles, like someone attacked a piece of paper with a pen but kept within a humanoid shape. It was even weirder when Charon spoke. “It’s a bit complicated but I think you understand why.” It sounded like my voice. I wasn’t sure how, especially since it didn’t look like there was a mouth within all those scribbles, but I figured it was magic. And it nevered me that I did understand. I nodded. 6
“However, I thought it would be best if you saw me like this tonight.” Charon’s voice dropped as he shifted back to his cloaked form. “It’s easier for me to appear to children. When you grow up, your fears change and become more complex. Failure, uncertainty, unfulfillment, the list goes on.” “So did mine change so much that I couldn’t see you anymore?’ “It was my fault, not yours. I’m not always free to do as I wish, there are rules. My intended purpose was to be a guide, not a friend. A few things led to another, including some of the fears you were developing, and the best solution I could see was to cut myself away. Perhaps there were better ways, but I never meant it to mean anything bad towards you or our friendship.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about all this. There was a lot to take in. “Do you understand why you are here tonight?” “I’m not quite sure.” “She won’t remember your conversation,” Charon said, gesturing to Ophelia. “You wake up remembering the feelings, but none of the details. Only that I gave you flowers but then had to go take care of something.” “Why not? I thought she was supposed to meet me?” “Yes, you two needed to talk. But it wasn’t her that needed to meet you. Your fear,” he flickered back to the scrib-
heard. Shutting off the alarm, I looked around the room. It was as I left it before I closed the lights. Nothing to indicate the presence of a child. Was that all a dream? It felt too real. And furthermore, I could remember everything from the tea party to some of Charon’s last visits. It wasn’t possible to suddenly create a myriad of memories right? I was hit by a sudden panic and fear that I would start to forget and I opened up a blank notes document on my phone and started to write things down. There was no way I wanted to lose these memories again, even if it were just a dream. Despite the uncomfortable position that I fell asleep in, I felt well rested. I checked the time and calculated that there was enough time before I needed to go to work. From the depths of my closet, I pulled out an old box that contained my childhood things. Dad had insisted I kept them but I never looked through it so the box had just been collecting dust. I scattered the photographs and little keepsakes on the ground which made me feel nostalgic but none of them lept out of the ordinary. After inspecting my old things for a few minutes, I placed everything back into the box, save for my old sketchbook; I wanted to look through it a bit more. Then, as I was closing up the box, a faint golden glow caught my I suddenly jerked up, gasping, almost falling from the desk I had been perched on. My phone lay vibrating next to eye. I had almost missed it. I moved aside the plastic butterme, an insistent alarm and the source of the buzzing I had fly and there it laid, a delicate, glowing white flower. bled out humanoid, “you’re afraid of losing yourself; not knowing who you are becoming. I wanted you to remember where you started.” “I...” I wasn’t sure what to say or how to process all of this. I went with the next best option and said, “Thank you?” A low, intermittent buzzing sound began in the back of my skull. “Our time is up,” Charon sighed. “This may be the last time you see me but I know you are strong, regardless of my interference. Just don’t give up on yourself okay?” I nodded. The buzzing started to sound closer and louder. “Thank you for reminding me.” I whispered. It made no sense that I knew Charon for only a few minutes but also for over two decades at the same time but the weight of saying goodbye to an old friend washed over me. “I’ll miss you.” “I’ll miss you as well.” Another moonflower materialized in Charon’s hand and floated towards me. I reached out to touch it as the noise seemed to shake the room and I was pulled into darkness.
“Monogram M,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from Right to Left)
7
“Helio!” Illustration by Cupid
The Tale of the Constellations By The Midnight Raven
Do you know the tale of the constellations? That they are not constellations at all, But strings of gold thread, Woven through the inky cloth of the night sky.
And each star is simply a new knot, When the gold was cut too short, And a new string must begin, To be connected to the maze of those before.
And the woven threads only come out at night, Because during the daytime hours,
The Olive Grove By The Sea By The Midnight Raven
The sun’s blaze glows and blocks out their golden glint.
Walk with me through Athens’ streets of stone,
So, when the sun lowers itself behind the curves of the
With your hand held tightly in my own.
hills,
While the constellations in the sky dip,
And the darkness washes over the above, Those golden, threaded tales come out.
We taste honey sweet on our lips. Read me the verses of Sappho by the sea, With the ocean breeze carrying the words of Calliope.
Always hanging above, Sparkling our sky. And the threads never stop, They keep weaving on, Even past our eyes. A golden trail that goes out into the expanse of that spreading ink of night.
Do you know the tale of the constellations?
The sand warm from the light of the skies, The sun shining golden in our eyes. Sit with me in the olive groves, With drinks swirling with the spice of cloves. With moonlight filtering through the leaves in shimmering beams, Our minds flutter with impossible dreams. Hold me close so no one sees, In the streets, the groves, or by the sea. We will be a secret only the gods will know, But with the wind, I can’t simply let my love go.
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Moonlit By Vérité
The moonlight falls in a dappling, watery pattern across the leaves scattered across the courtyard fields. It’s a clear night sky; only a few grey clouds, scattered here and there, that give the grounds their grey, quiet look. It looks strange, Ophelia thinks. Soothing in a way it has no right to be. Maybe to another, the evening would have a haunting, uneasy air. But to her it just seems peaceful. She takes a step forward and wraps the woolen scarf tighter around her shoulders, running her fingers through the fabric. The grass crunches underfoot, thick with frosted leaves and icy dewdrops. She takes another step. It’s awfully cold, she realizes, as a biting wind rips through the courtyard. This meeting is supposed to be short—they don’t have time for anything longer—but still. Her nightgown isn’t exactly made for winter night walks. The gazebo comes into view as she rounds the corner, trying to quiet her footsteps as much as possible. There’s a shadow flitting about--maybe Daphne’s early. Or maybe it’s just the flickering of candlelight. “’Lia?” says a soft voice from inside the gazebo, and Ophelia quickens her pace. Daphne, then. She opens the doors and steps inside. Daphne’s waiting there, in a nightgown just like hers and dark hair hitched up into some sort of half-twist. She reaches her hands out upon seeing Ophelia’s face, before lowering them and clenching at the fabric of her dress. “Is it true then?” she asks, stepping forward. “You’re leaving for the city?” For good this time? she doesn’t say, but Ophelia hears it all the same. She looks down and pulls her own scarf tighter around herself. The pattern of tiles below her feet is intricate but faded; she’s reminded of all those times so many years ago that they’d sneak in to play hopscotch, dancing back and forth between tiles like girls possessed. So much of her childhood was spent here, in this home; so much of her childhood was spent here, with Daphne. How can she ever say goodbye? “Well,” she says with a half-hearted attempt at a smile, “I had to grow up some time, Daph.” “Yes,” Daphne murmurs, looking away, “I suppose we all do.” The city’ll be nice, she thinks. Tall buildings. Many new people. And she’ll get to study, and learn, in a way she’d never be able to here. But she’ll miss the people she knows, her closest friend most of all.
“I came” —her voice cracks and she clears her throat to mask it— “I came to say goodbye. Before I leave for the city.” There’s a silence. Neither of them quite knows what to say. “You—you’ll come someday, will you? To the city? You could, I’m sure you could lead a beautiful life there—” “’Lia,” Daphne cuts her off, “Ophelia. You know I can’t.” She sighs. Yes, she knows. “I’ll miss you,” Daphne says, lacing their fingers together and leaning in for an embrace. “I’ll miss you too.” “Come visit?” “As soon as I can.” Ophelia leans in, wrapping her arms tightly around Daphne’s waist. She’s only got maybe a couple of minutes; she needs some sleep before the journey, after all. But here, wrapped in her closest friend’s arms, breathing in the scent of Daphne’s perfume, she allows herself to breathe. The new chapter of her life may be beginning soon, but not for a couple of moments yet. The moonlight filters in through the windows. It feels like. . . peace.
“Path of Leaves,” Photograph by The Observer 9
Without Light
By The Midnight Raven Her eyes flickered in the darkness as she trudged along the cracked cobblestone. The echoing sound of her footsteps rung in her ears. She clutched a metal lantern in her hand, the chill handle sending a shiver through her body. The candle in the lantern dripped hot wax that covered it’s floor while the flame burned vibrantly. It shed a bit of light, illuminating only a foot or so around her, but it was enough. The lantern kept her from complete darkness, and without it, she would be lost. Stumbling through the dark without a light to guide her and without the hope to push her forward. It was a chill winter’s night, freshly fallen snow powdered the ground, and the brisk air brushed her cheeks until they were pink. She shouldn’t have been out this late, especially on a night like this, when there were so many dangers threatening her source of light, but she promised she would meet her. Under the branches of a pine tree, the spicy scent filling their noses, under the blanket of darkness that filled the nighttime. She pushed forward as a large gust of wind lifted her fiery red hair off her shoulders. She put a hand over her eyes to shield them from the biting wind, but in the process, she ignored the lantern clutched in her hand. There was nothing stopping it. The frigid breeze blew out the flickering flame in one gust, shedding undeniable darkness all around her. She let out a gasp, her air puffing out in front of her from the cold. She was left in the inky black of the night, with no direction whatsoever except what had recently been around her. She knew that behind her was her home, but she had been walking for around ten minutes, navigating constant turns and she could no longer remember what they were. The oil of the streetlamps had long gone out and she knew that the forest would have no light at all, the branches blocking off any moonlight. She gazed behind her shoulder, searching for any sort of direction but she could find none. She was lost in the dark, and there was no light coming to illuminate through the night.
A New Year
By Blue Serendipity Time to make a goal That I will not remember Within the next week
Missing Work By Lola
I’m really hanging on Dangling by a thread. With first semester ending and college decisions arriving, I can feel the senioritis Seeping into me. Please don’t call on me, For I wouldn’t be there. Yes I know I know, I’m haven’t turned anything in Since December, But hey I’m not completely failing? “Ten!” Illustration by Cupid
A Mane of Fire
“Flames in the Darkness,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
By Lola “Help!”
I stared at the flickering flames, entranced by its light. There was beauty in the trail of distruction it left behind. Orange gnawed at the paper, releasing a slow, steady whisp of pale gray smoke. “Please! Help me!” It spread across the edges first, creating a parameter of fire. Then, it closes in. The one snow white sheet of paper quickly disintigrated into ash. But it was still hungry. “Can you hear me? Please!” It roared haughtily and shot up in the air in a show of strength. Moving sharply, it began its second attack. This time, it bared its teeth at the thick rope lying at my feet. I watched, mezmerized, as it hungrily latched onto the end. “Oh my god, help!” Like a true predator, it took its time. With slow meticulous movements, it made sure to devour every inch of the rope. As it moved it laid waste to the Earth, allowing sparks to bite into leaves. Within seconds, it had created an army blazing across the terrain. “No! No! You have to help me!” My lips curved upwards as flames licked at my feet. Soon they would be just as hungry as the beast a few yards away. It had now reached a large patch of dried out grass. Licking its lips in satisfaction, it stood. “Help!” It was in satiable. No matter what or how much it ate, its fierce body kept it starved. But paper and leaves were no meal for a king. No, it craved something more. With a crackling snarl, it stepped over cloth and towered over flesh. A 6ft blazing wall of fire, it pounced.
N
three haikus in candlelight By Vérité
i. you light one candle I blow out another two dark, light, me and you. ii. three flames for three souls five matches to light the three all go up in flames. iii. blow out a candle ask again, we’ll sing again another year passed.
Light
By The Cold Hearted Queen A single flame burns, Dancing and jumping Both delicate and dangerous. Teetering to and fro, It entertains an audience Of shadows. 11
Rootless and Free
By The Midnight Raven She wished for tomorrow in the evenings, Tangled up in her blankets and her eyelids fluttering open at any sign of light. She wished to wash the previous day from her skin, Scrubbing the ink marks that stained her hands and the dirt that lay under her fingernails with water until they disappeared down the drain. But wishing for tomorrow didn’t make the memories disappear, It just meant another day with thoughts of the past swirling through her head. During the summer, she wished for the frigid winter months. Longing for the protection of wool coats around her shoulders and fur-lined hats to cover her ears that turned pink from the wind’s chill. When sweat sprinkled her brow from the golden beams of the sun, she wished for the feeling of the cold enveloping her within its spidery hands. In winter, there were steaming cups of hot chocolate, holiday specials that only came on the air once a year, and week-long breaks from school. Summer was cutting away her long vermillion hair and a constant anxious feeling that filled her chest as she thought of the ways she wished to change, the ways she never did. She ached for change with each beat of her heart. Change that could let her cut back the unwanted roots that had tied themselves around her ankles and attached her to the barren ground. And she would leave their remains sitting on the cool earth. She longed to be free on the breeze like a sparrow floating through the air, But she was still in her own barred cage. A cage made of gilded metal. A cage built off her own doubts. Soon it would be winter, Winter was her escape, And escape cascaded through the breeze on feathered wings. Wings not clipped back, Head not tucked under the folds of the plume. Rootless and free. 12
Adelaide (4) By Blue Serendipity
Was I warming up to Adelaide? I didn’t despise her, but I wasn’t necessarily fond of her either. Occasionally her crying would get on my nerves and her inability to do simple things became too infuriating for me to handle. I mean, you’d think drawing shapes wouldn’t be that difficult, right? Unfortunately, it was. And so, I decided that the best course of action would be to just leave her be. It’d save everyone some pain. Therefore we all quickly settled into a comfortable routine. Laura would watch over Adelaide for the most part as she was unable to work from home. I would spend my time working in the office until Adelaide was put down for a nap. Then I would help clean the house up and we would watch a little TV in the living room. It worked for two days before something went wrong. “Irene?” called Laura from the room Adelaide slept in. I groggily mumbled a reply. Adelaide had woken us both up with her crying which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but usually Laura was able to get her to go back to sleep within a couple minutes. “Irene!” “What’s wrong?” I asked, beginning to hear the urgency in her voice. “I think Adelaide’s got a fever. Where’s the thermometer?” “A fever?” I echoed. Rushing into the bathroom, I rummaged through our
messy drawer of first-aid supplies. I didn’t remember the last time either of us had dealt with a fever so there was no guarantee the thermometer was in there. “It’s not in the bathroom!” “Try one of the drawers in the kitchen?” “Why would it be in the kitchen?” I asked incredulously. “Because my mom used to keep medicine in a kitchen cupboard. I might’ve put it in there when we moved here!” As it turned out, the thermometer really was in a kitchen cupboard. Right next to a couple tins of tea leaves. It was a strange place to keep a thermometer but I would have to question it more later. Adelaide’s face was flushed red as she wailed in Laura’s arms. Usually her crying made me cringe, but I knew that a fever wasn’t good for a baby’s health. “Is she old enough for fever medication?” I asked as I handed Laura the thermometer. “I don’t know. Maybe we should call Jane?” Laura suggested with uncertainty. I pursed my lips and we waited for the thermometer to finish taking Adelaide’s temperature. Once it started beeping, we both crowded around it with dread pooling in our stomachs. 101.5 I cursed under my breath and Laura shot me a quick glare. She didn’t even have to say anything for me to understand her message. No cursing around kids. “We should call Jane,” I declared. Laura handed me Adelaide to search for my
“This Is The Result Of Me Running 10 Miles in 90 Degree Weather: I Lie In The Middle Of My Road And Take Photos Of The Cherry Blossoms. Even Dead Tired I’m A Photography God,” Photograph by Calliope
phone. I didn’t trust myself to be able to hold her securely as she was throwing a fit, so I went to the living room and sat down on the couch. Looking down at my arms, I realized that Adelaide was still asleep even though she was still crying so much. For a while, I wondered if she was having a fever dream. As a kid I tended to have a nightmare every time I had a fever. In fact, having a nightmare eventually became the first sign of my fever. But Adelaide was still so young. I wasn’t sure if babies her age even dreamed. Even if Adelaide wasn’t having a fever dream, I knew that having a fever wasn’t fun. “Okay, okay, let’s hope they pick up,” said Laura,
rushing into the living room with her phone. It rang for nearly 30 seconds on speaker before someone finally answered. “Hello?” mumbled Jane, her voice laden with sleep. “Hey, it’s Laura we—” “Laura? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” interrupted Jane with - understandable irritation. “And… is there a baby?” “Yeah, Irene found a baby in Fred Meyer the other day and— it’s a long story. She has a fever, and we don’t know what to do,” explained Laura quickly. There was a brief moment Continued on Next Page
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of silence from the other end. Then, they heard her husband asking what was going on. Jane whispered something back before raising her voice back to normal to speak to us. “Okay, uh, how old is she and what’s the temperature?” Jane asked. “We don’t know how old she is, but she can stand and sort of walk. She has a temperature of 101.5.” I attempted to rock Adelaide a bit in my arms like people always did in movies, hoping that it would soothe her a bit. Surprisingly, it did seem to work. Her wails slowly died down to soft sniffles and Adelaide began to wake. Her glassy green eyes stared up at me in slight curiousity and her lips tugged downwards has if she was going to cry again. I held my breath, desperately hoping that she would stay calm. Thankfully, she did. “Keep an eye on her temperature,” instructed Jane. “If it goes above 102 and doesn’t go down after a day then call a doctor. Maybe give her a lukewarm sponge bath and definitely keep her hydrated.” “So they can’t have any ibuprofen or tylenol?” I asked curiously. “I doubt you guys have any that’s meant for young children,” said Jane dryly. “Besides, if you don’t know her exact age it’d be a good idea to just try the sponge bath for now and call a doctor if her temperature doesn’t go away.” “Alright, she’s awake right now, so we can try the sponge bath and see if it goes down by morning,” I 14
said standing up. “Call me back in the morning to let me know, alright?” asked Jane. “I’ve got a lot of questions about why you both suddenly have a baby.” “We will, don’t worry,” promised Laura with mild amusement. “Thanks, goodnight.” The two of us crowded into the bathroom and began setting up a bath before realizing it would be very difficult to bathe such a small child in such a large tub. The last thing we wanted was for Adelaide fall backwards and accidentally choke on any bath water. “I mean, we could use a pot,” I joked. Laura stifled a laugh and shook her head. “What about the plastic box we used to keep the extra blankets in? It should be in the storage closet.” Luckily, Adelaide knew how to sit properly, which made it a lot easier to bathe her. She actually seemed to enjoy the bath a lot and splashed around with a purple loofah. It didn’t lower her temperature immediately, but it did seem to tire her enough for her to fall back asleep. “We should have her sleep in our room tonight,” suggested Laura, “to make it easier to check up on her if she starts crying again.” “Are we going to disassemble the crib and reassemble it in our room?” I asked incredulously. “That seems a little difficult.” After all, it had been Jane and her husband Matthew that assembled it in the guest room. We had agreed to leave it in there as they tended to visit quite often
in the summer and needed a place for Andrew to sleep. From what I remembered, the crib had a been ridiculously complicated for them to put together and I wasn’t very keen on trying to figure it out without the instructions. “Right, let’s just sleep in the guest room,” said Laura, realizing how ridiculous it would be. Luckily, Adelaide slept peacefully through the rest of the night. I thought that it would be nice not having to wake up multiple times throughout the night, but knowing she had a fever made me assume the worst. I quickly rushed out of bed and peered into the crib, scanning the sleeping baby for anything wrong. Nothing. Adelaide was breathing
normally and just seemed deep in sleep. I let out a breath of relief. Laura, who was beginning to wake up, noticed me standing by Adelaide’s crib and furrowed her eyebrows. “What? Is something wrong?” she asked. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I was just checking to see if she was still asleep.” I didn’t really want to tell Laura what I was truly checking for. After all, I had been so against children in general when I first brought Adelaide home. But Laura had been right. I was warming up to her. There was no way I was going to let Laura know that though, at least… not yet. To Be Continued...
“I literally Have No Idea What To Call This To Be Clever But Let’s Just Pretend That I Did,” Photograph by Calliope
