April 2019
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Raven Cover: “Springtime,” an illustration by Celia Bowen Midnight “Dust in the Wind,” an illustration by Mars This Page: “Daisy,” an illustration by Tess Page 12: “Posters on the Wall,” continued Page 3:
Ask Aphro & Dite
“Rose,” an illustration by Mars
Beyond the Gloss
“Day 6427,” a poem by S.B. “Daisy’s Candle,” a photograph by Andromeda “Insomnia,” a limerick by Celia Bowen “Game of Thrones Predictions,” a haiku by Tom Nguyen “Full Bloom,” a photograph by The Calico Cat
• Someone who’s sick of home asks what to do during spring break • Confusion asks about a peculiar romantic scenario • Eos defends the fallen month of April
Andromeda’s Introspective Odyssey
• Andromeda talks about the college admissions process
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“Mechanical Love,” a poem by Kayden “Fallen Petals,” a photograph by Anonymous “April Showers,” a poem by S.B. “Newton’s Child,” an illustration by Wine Merchant
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“Love Letters,” a photograph by Andromeda “Letter from Daisy to Gatsby,” a letter by Eos “Letter from Gatsy to Daisy,” a letter by Andromeda
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“Sly,” a story by Blue Serendipity “Midnight Blossoms,” a photograph by Blue Serendipity
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“Sly,” continued “Spring Time,” a manga by Aya Hatashima
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“Sweet Tea,” a poem by The Midnight Raven “April Showers Bring...” a photograph by Jojo Queen
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“Cat and Flapper,” a photograph by Andromeda “Wooden Temple,” a photograph by Eos “Pet Peeve #3,” a rant by Même “Regal,” a haiku by Eos
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“Logic,” an illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH “Cybervision,” a poem by Eos “Deceit,” an illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH “Metal Handcuffs,” a poem by Andromeda
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“Posters on the Wall Part 5: In the Darkness,” a story by The
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“An Uber Dilemma,” a story by Kayden “Blossoms,” a photograph by The Calico Cat “The Winded Road,” a poem by Kayden “Elm Tree,” an illustration by Mars
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“The Building on 66th Street: Part 8,” a story by Andromeda
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“The Building on 66th Street,” continued “Blooming,” a photograph by Jojo Queen “Old Music,” a photograph by Andromeda
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Ask Aphro & Dite
Dear Aphro, I’m stuck at home during spring break, what should I do? Yours, Sick-Of-Home Dear Sick-Of-Home, There’s plenty of things to do at home! Why, you could go hang out with friends or you could have a day all for yourself. Treat yourself to a whole makeover or do something you like, such as play video games. Do things that make you feel good, whether it be going to a party or just wandering around the city/town by yourself. With love, Aphro Dear Dite, What do you do when your date turns to dust? Yours, Confusion Dear Confusion, Oh my, that’s a problem. I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen. Funnily enough, you’re not the first person that’s asked me this. There’s a team working on this right now. As for now, you should probably contact all your loved ones to make sure everyone else is more or less intact. As you mortals say, stay calm, stop, drop, and roll. With love, Dite
Beyond the Gloss
Hello Midnight Writers! It is now April, the month of spring showers. Personally, I think the month of April gets a bad rap in the grand scheme of months. After all, most people typically see it as four long weeks of rain, drudgery, and more rain. It is a month sandwiched and squandered in between the others, depressing “April showers” that will lead to infinitely more lovely “May flowers.” Even the first day of the month of April gets off to a mediocre start: What more anticlimactic way to sum up a month’s existence than with the very first day starting with the infamous holiday where everything is merely a prank? That’s right--even April’s first day is all one big joke. Literally. Additionally, history shows that April has been a month for worldwide tragedy: the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr., the birth of Adolf Hitler, the BP oil spill, the sinking of the Titanic, and much more tragic events have all unfolded within the month of April. (Simply google “April worst month” to see what I mean.) In short, April is the loner outcast of the family of months generally populated with festivity and overall numerous not-bad occurrences. However, I am here today to defend the month of April, for I take pity on this estranged period of time. Though April Fool’s Day is April’s (unfortunately) most famous holiday, some other ones include National Poetry Month, Pecan Month, and Kite Month. And what’s not to love about the holy trinity of poetry, pecans, and kites? Though April is tragically populated with a multitude of dark times in our history, there have been bright moments as well, such as the creation of the Civil Rights Act, the establishment of the first U.S. Mint, and the election of the first female mayor. In sum, one should never judge a month by its cover. (Or seeming lack of pecans and poetry.) Perhaps April is the underdog we root for in coming-of-age films, a representation of the underrated values we see disregarded in ourselves. Additionally, much like a disturbed housecat, I quite prefer cloudy days to sunny ones--showers over flowers if you will. Anyways, have a wonderful rest of the equally-as-wonderful month of April everyone, and enjoy the issue!
Andromeda’s Introspective Odyssey
The end of April is approaching, and as spring comes into full bloom, seniors are making final decisions on their plans for possibly the next four years. As someone who remembers freshman year as somewhat a far and distant memory, I reflect upon the unnecessary worry and stress students put themselves under when preparing for college, specifically in Potomac. It seems many underclassmen spend so much time thinking “I have to get out of here,” or “I have to go to an Ivy,” or “University of Maryland is my safety school.” They say this when in fact most Churchill students end up going to Maryland, not just because it’s a good school, but because it’s smart and affordable. Many students don’t seem to realize that the college you go to does not define you, and just because a school doesn’t have a “prestigious” title doesn’t mean it’s not a good school. Some of the most successful people in the world have dropped out of college, while others have considered it some of their most formative years. My point is, if I had any advice to my underclassmen, it’s don’t sweat the small stuff, everyone’s path is different, and going to a “prestigious” school doesn’t guarantee happiness. P.S. When you’re looking at colleges, PAY ATTENTION TO NICHE.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Eos, Andromeda, Celia Bowen, Kayden, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Blue Serendipity and Idunn.
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Mechanical Love By Kayden
“Fallen Petals,” Photograph by Anonymous
Can’t breathe Must be the allergies, the rainy smell Or maybe it’s you, your beautiful hair Wet from the bouncy water ride I watched you carefully As you peeled off your gray sweater and Handed it to me with that smile of yours I couldn’t help but stay intoxicated by The intense scent of you, the light and natural Beautiful springtime flowers But soon, Another lingering scent in my mind You with the lovely brown hair brushed left Whose arm I clung onto so lovingly The smell of oceany salt Filled my lungs as I held your hand Smooth milky white and soft to the touch Black and white, side by side Friends but conflicting in my fragile mind Born of mechanical love or Bound by unchanging winds I’m confused by the ever moving clouds Maybe that’s why they call it a lie in April. “Newton’s Child,” Illustration by Wine Merchant
April Showers By S.B.
I know not what I seek, As I walk through the night, Parting the falling rain. Which freed my hair from its part, Tucking my right eye away, Houses fade as I pass by. Guided by all of my movements, Water glides to my fingertips, And flies off of my swinging hands. Delicately joining the rest.
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Yet this world is gray, The sun is hidden, And the ground becomes mud. No different from every day, Whether it snows or showers, The weather of my mind remains: Invariable, banal. I walk with my head down Blocking out all sound Invisible, As if I’m hidden in the rain.
Dear Jay, I hope you are faring well in the war. With each passing day, I grow more and more impatient for your return. These days, I simply do not know what to do with myself today, or the day after that, and so on; Without you I’m senseless, Jay. Anyhow, the photograph on the postcard is of a temple in the Orient--Isn’t it lovely? But do not ask where I am, or how I obtained such a photo-I would like you to wonder where I have run off to, just as I wonder about you. As if this is simply prolonged hide and seek. As if war is a game of children and letters are paper airplanes-A swell game, isn’t it? Forever yours, Daisy
Dearest Daisy, Although the war is rough, your letters are a light in a seemingly dark and dreary tunnel. If you are impatient, my dear, then I am simply overcome with longing to see you again. On another note I hope you and your family fare well. The photo is from one of my mates during his stay in Egypt, I thought you would appreciate it. I too will not divulge where I am--but I will say I long for your arms and am prepared to give you the world upon my return if you would have me. Sincerely yours, Jay Gatsby.
“Letter from Daisy to Gatsby,” Letter by Eos “Letter from Gatsby to Daisy,” Letter by Andromeda “Love Letters,” Photograph by Andromeda
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Sly
By Blue Serendipity
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Tap, tap, tap. Facilier couldn’t help but add an extra bounce in his step as he strolled down the street with his cane. He had found the key to getting rid of his debt with his friends on the other side. Getting them to agree to his terms would be easier than Mister LaBouff becoming King of Mardi Gras. It wasn’t hard to find Prince Naveen, all he had to do was follow the crowds. He was lucky as always and managed to find them just outside his voodoo shack. Prince Naveen had somehow fallen over his servant Lawrence. Just one look at them and Facilier knew everything about him. “Hello?” Naveen asked looking up at him. Facilier smiled at them both. “Gentlemen,” he greeted, extending his cane to help them up. Naveen grabbed the end of it and stumbled onto his feet. “Enchantée. A tip of the hat from Dr. Facilier.” He placed his top hat under his right arm and held out a business card. “How y’all doin’?” “Tarot readings, charms, potions… Dreams made real!” read Naveen furrowing his eyebrows. Facilier placed an arm around him and slowly guided him towards his shack. All he had to do was get the Prince there and his spineless servant would follow quick behind. “Achedanza!” “Were I a betting man— and I’m not, I stay away from games of chance…” Facilier turned them around a corner and into an alley. If the Prince had half a mind he would’ve questioned it immediately. “Sir!” cried Lawrence rushing after them holding all of Naveen’s things. “I’d wager,” continued Facilier keeping up his slow drawl. As long as he had Naveen’s full attention he could easily trick him into anything. “I’m in the company of visiting royalty.” The Prince’s mouth fell open in surprise and he quickly turned around to face his struggling servant. How gullible. “Lawrence, Lawrence! This remarkable gentleman has just read my palm!” “Or this morning’s newspaper?” suggested Lawrence completely unimpressed. He had noticed the newspaper that was stuffed in Facilier’s back pocket. Lawrence whirled around and faced Naveen before speaking in a low whisper. “Sir, this chap is obviously a charlatan.” Facilier narrowed his eyes. How dare this man call him a fraud! He could do things no one else could even imagine! “I suggest we move on to a less…” “Don’t you disrespect me, little man!” snapped Facilier pointing his cane at him. He then realized his tone was a bit too harsh and slowly straightened up. All he needed to do was lure them in. Not scare them off. “Don’t you derogate or deride! You’re in my world now, not your world…” he
pointed his cane at his door. The three skulls hanging above it burst into flames and Naveen gawked at it in awe. “...and I’ve got friends on the other side!” The door slowed opened on its own and Facilier stepped to the side to let them in. Knowing that Lawrence would never enter on his own, he placed an arm around each of them and walked them in. The door closed behind them. “Come, have a seat at my table,” coaxed Facilier waving his cane. Their hats flew off their head and landed on a couple skulls on his table. Naveen eagerly sat down at the table. Lawrence did not. Facilier’s shadow grew impatient with the little man and he kicked Lawrence into the table. Facilier high-fived his shadow before strutting up to the table. “I can make your wildest dreams come true!” “Anything?” Naveen asked leaning forward. He smirked, he had one hooked already. Taking out a deck of purple cards, he waved them in front of the prince’s face. “Anything. These cards will tell your past, present, and future as well. Just take three, take a little trip into your future you’ll take with me!” Naveen picked three cards and Lawrence reluctantly did the same. Facilier laid down Naveen’s three cards face now. “Now you, young man, are from across the sea.” He flipped over the first card to show a boat on an ocean and a large tree underneath. “You come from two long lines of royalty… I’m a royal myself on my mother’s side,” added Facilier, holding up his mother’s shrunken head. He quickly continued on and flipped the “Midnight Blossoms,” Photograph by Blue Serendipity
second card over to reveal a broke man. “Your lifestyle’s high, but your funds are low. You need to marry a little honey whose daddy’s got dough. Mommy and daddy cut you off, huh playboy?” “Yeah, sad but true,” said Naveen with a careless shrug. Foolish young man. He had no idea what he was messing with. Facilier smiled and fiddled with his cards. “Now y’all gotta get hitched, but hitchin’ ties you down. You just wanna be free. Hop from place to place. But freedom...takes green!” Facilier declared, fanning out his cards. Naveen’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the cards looking like dollar bills. “It’s the green, it’s the green, it’s the green you need…and when I looked into your future…” He turned around the last card and handed it to Naveen. It was a picture of himself swimming in green dollar bills. “It’s the green that I see!” Facilier then whirled around to face Lawrence. While Lawrence was the one most suspicious of him, he’d be the easiest to hook in. The little man was a jealous little thing and jealousy made people make rash choices. “Oh you little man, I don’t want to waste much time. You been pushed around all your life.” He turned over the first card to show Lawrence carrying various members of his family. “You been pushed around by your mother and
“Spring Time,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from right to left)
your sister and your brother. And if you was married…” Lawrence’s eyes lit up in anticipation. Facilier internally laughed at him and turned over the second card. Instead of Lawrence carrying his family, he was being sat on by a large lady. “You’d be pushed around by your wife. But in your future, the you I see. It’s exactly the man you always wanted to be!” He turned over the last card and gave it to Lawrence. It was a picture of him covered in riches while Naveen was carrying all the suitcases in the background. All the pawns had been put in place. The two were such naive little things. All they needed to to was seal their deal and Facilier would give them what they want. “Shake my hand,” he said crossing his arms so he had his left arm outstretched to his right side and his right arm to his left. “Come on boys, won’t you shake the poor sinner’s hand?” The moment Naveen and Lawrence shook his hand, Facilier cackled and rushed to work. Only fools would turn to voodoo to get what they wanted. Naveen was promised so much green he could swim in it. He was never promised money. Lawrence wanted to be Naveen, he’d become Naveen. They would get what they asked for, whether they liked it or not.
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Sweet Tea
By The Midnight Raven The sun shone down often on my porch that spring, causing my shoulders to burn a bright pink and her nose to freckle. We would sit on the patio chairs with the itchy, blue-diamond pattern fabric and talk for hours, About school, Our other friends, And how loud the kid next door was as he ran through his sprinkler screaming. She and I used to do that when we were little, Feel the water spray our shoulders and scream with glee at its freezing temperature. But we don’t run through the sprinkler anymore, Now we’re older and we would look foolish to run about like that. So, we sat on my porch in the afternoons after school and talked, Only stopping our words for a few moments to take a drink from our glasses. Mine always filled with iced English breakfast tea. Her’s always with sweet tea and a single lemon slice. I couldn’t stand sweet tea, and I would tell her that fact. Commenting on how the sweetness made my head hurt and left a strange taste in my mouth. She would always reply that she could say the same, but about the bitterness instead of the sweet. Then we would both get quiet and look down at our glasses and the iced tea in them, Staring as the ice cubes melted, And then we would laugh. I remember those days, Mundane, but the only way I wished to spend my time. I remembered that porch, With its chipping white paint on the wood railing and the petals from the flowering trees that always littered the ground. And I remember those drinks, Bitter English breakfast iced tea and sweet iced tea with a single lemon slice. I miss those days, The simplicity of just enjoying that moment, Not feeling the need to fill it with something outrageous or exciting. Just being there with each other was enough. I learned to love sweet tea and all its sugary complexity, Even though I still thought the sweetener outshined the taste of the tea. But I loved it because of what it meant. It meant comfort, It meant that something that could be perceived as bitter had the ability to turn sweet, And it meant our friendship. I remember those days on the porch that spring, The sun beating down and melting the ice cubes of our drinks, And our shared words filling the air. Times changed and so did we, But when it came down to it, We always had that spring, We always had those memories, And we always had sweet tea. 8
“April Showers Bring...” Photograph by Jojo Queen
Pet Peeve #3 By Même
“Cat and Flapper,” Photograph by Andromeda
Alright people, Même is back for round three. CHEATING!! For most of you when you hear this word, you think about cheating in relationships. In which case, you have guessed the topic of today’s rant! Congrats! I can NEVER understand people who cheat on their significant others because it is never okay. The only way I can condone cheating is if you’re in some complicated situation where you’re in an arranged marriage, but you never loved your husband/wife, or if your BF/GF cheated first, kind of like fighting fire with fire. But even then, I don’t understand why would you want to cheat. “Oh, but Même! I cheated because I liked someone else and if I told my partner, they would totally hate me.” My point still stands. No one feels good after a breakup, but people feel worse after learning you are cheating. Like a lot worse, so bad that it causes trust issues. Do you want to be the reason why your previous partner can’t get into another relationship again?? Okay, maybe I’m over-exaggerating, but honestly it could happen. If you like another when you’re in a relationship, breakup! Spare your partner’s feelings and tell them the TRUTH. Why must your love pursuits intersect?! Cheating is for cowards who are scared of commitment and the truth. Like, if your BF/GF cheated on you first, breakup with them! Don’t try to get back at them or try to forgive them because they were never faithful to you. And that’s what makes relationships special: your love and faithfulness. The best revenge on your cheating scum of a BF/GF is letting them see how amazing you are doing without their toxic ass. HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW, JUSTIN?!?
Regal By Eos I sit on a throne Laced with thorns and no one could Ever reach me now “Wooden Temple,” Photograph by Eos
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“Logic,” Illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH
Cybervision By Eos
Don’t try to hide Behind technicolored goggles And words that conceal What you truly want to say. From the moment we met Outside the bustling London train station Where smoke rose up in billows And the noises never stopped I could see right through you (The goggles were no use.) Perhaps you were too lucid for me A looking glass of jumbled thoughts and feelings That led to no good. And now I’m tied to the tracks where we met years ago Waiting for you to set me free.
Metal Handcuffs By Andromeda
In the land of metal towers Seconds become minutes Minutes become hours Backs breaking, feet aching Beneath the machine power The clock keeps ticking Hands and knees shaking Blood and sweat mixing Under hot labored breaths The machine keeps clicking I screw in my broken arm This is all in a day’s work No cause for alarm Keep churning and working No matter the hurt or harm The steam engine huffs and puffs While my hard metal hands That have grown rough and tough Long for distant freedom Beneath their chafing handcuffs 10
“Deceit,” Illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH
Posters On The Wall Part 5: In The Darkness By The Midnight Raven Elias blinked open his eyes and darkness poured into his vision. It took him a few moments to register his surroundings, the haze of sleep fogging his mind. Suddenly, Elias jerked forward. His sharp movements revealed his inability to move his arms or legs, for they were bound to the cool metal of the chair he sat in. Elias frantically began murmuring, “No, no, no,” over and over again under his breath as he struggled against the rough rope that burned as it moved across his skin. After trying to break free for what seemed like an eternity, Elias slumped back in his chair, his brow lined with sweat that came from his previous movements. Elias bit down on his lip in frustration and as he did, he was met with a sharp sting that engulfed his lip. Elias lifted his thumb hesitantly to the skin of his lip and he felt a gash, a deep gash, one that seemed to split down his whole lip. When he took his finger away, he felt something drip down into the palm of his hand. Blood. Elias inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to surf back through his memories and try to recall where he was and why he was bound and injured. But his mind remained empty, no explanation filling his head. As Elias squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to remember, the lights flickered on in the room, causing Elias to open his eyes. He was met with the pure emptiness of the room. The walls were an eggshell-white and the floor was a gray speckled linoleum. The only thing that lay in the room was the chair he was bound to and a dusty mirror that had a small crack in it’s left corner. But something else caught his attention. A faint noise could be heard, the sound of a pencil tapping and the drip of water in a
cooler. Elias began jerking frantically with more motivation than he had before, his mind spilling back with memories as he registered where he was. He was in the one place he never wanted to return to. The Wall. As if a wave had washed over him, Elias remembered everything in a crashing flood of memories. His protest, the speech, Addelyn there with him, everything. He had ignited his movement nearly immediately after he had seen the newspaper. He had held that paper and stood on top of a wooden bench in the town square, rain pouring down all the while and soaking his hazel hair and light blue t-shirt and jeans. But he didn’t let that stop him. He stood there and spoke the truth until his throat was sore and a small crowd began to gather around him. Some people heckled, some whispered amongst themselves, but the most unbelievable thing happened as well, some nodded at his words. Maybe not everyone agreed, but people listened to what he said. That was the most important thing. He was heard. Then, the news reporters came. Elias could see in the mirror that it wasn’t only his lip that was cut. Deep scratches lined his dimpled cheeks, and his arms and shoulders were bruised a deep purple color. He also noticed that his hair was matted and tousled and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles. Elias sunk down in the chair and let his strained arms and legs go limp. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere. By 3 p.m. the afternoon after he had begun his protest, Elias’ face was plastered across the news. He wasn’t the Elias he used to be anymore, the dejected boy who lent all his faith to one person he hadn’t even met and the boy who allowed himself to be immoral because it was easier than standing up against it. No, now he was Elias, the one people viewed as a revolutionary who broke free from the wrongdoings of The Wall and the boy who wasn’t afraid to tell the truth. Those titles filled him with a sense of guilt.
If only he could tell the full truth, about how long he had put up with the wall, but if he did, people surely wouldn’t listen to his words. Elias had spoken in that square for nearly 6 hours and he still had more to say. About his experiences, the true work of the wall and why it was the right decision for it to come down. The crowd continued to grow, so much so that their faces began to blur. But only when he paused his speech and stopped to look at the people standing there did he realize who lingered near the back of the crowd. She stood a few steps behind the swarm of people and had her hands shoved in the pockets of her jean jacket. The look plastered on her face was not one of disbelief or shock, it was more of understanding and that filled Elias’ heart to the brim with joy. Addelyn was here and she was listening to his words. Elias’ neck stung with a cramp from jerking his head so much and that pain kept him from being able to turn to look behind him, but with one nail-biting shock of pain, Elias whipped his head around. He was glad he did because, with that single glance, he was able to see the small camera that was attached to the corner of the wall. He glared at that camera and furrowed his eyebrows before whispering hoarsely under his breath, “Hello, father.” Elias was exactly where his father wanted him to be,
“Dust in the Wind,” Illustration by Mars
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back at the wall, no longer protesting, and completely under his control. The mere thought of it left Elias with an awful burning sensation that lingered in the back of his throat from disgust. Elias tilted his head back, so his neck rested on the frigid metal of the chair and stared up at the ceiling blankly, his eyes tracing the white, diamond pattern that weaved its way across the ceiling. His lip, arms, wrists, and shoulders throbbed with a sharp pain and his head drifted in and out of quick beats of consciousness. He was exhausted, and if he was trapped anyways, maybe a wink of sleep couldn’t hurt. Elias fluttered his eyes closed and let himself drift off, the darkness behind his eyes consuming him. Elias met Addelyn’s eyes through the crowd. She hugged her arms around her waist and when she noticed his gaze, she fluttered her vision down to the pavement. Elias inhaled deeply for a moment as he saw her, pausing his words momentarily before continuing on with his speech. She waited in the square for hours until dusk fell over the city and the crowd began to dissipate as people returned home. Elias ran his fingers through his hair nervously and hopped down from the bench he had stood on. He hesitantly walked towards Addelyn, the gravity of the situation seemed to weigh him down and cause him to move at a pace that was inhumanly slow. When he reached her, Addelyn tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shoved her hands in her pockets as she said softly, “So, when you said you knew me, it was because you used to have to monitor me, right?” Elias shrugged sheepishly and kicked at a small stone on the ground, his mind whirring to find words. “Yes, and I know it was wrong, just at the time, I couldn’t think of any way to get out of it.” Addelyn nodded and turned her head slightly to look at the skyscrapers that reflected glowing moonlight from their glass windows. Addelyn laughed slightly and Elias, confusion filling him, asked, “What’s so funny?” She turned back to him, her lips quirked 12
up slightly in a smile, and inhaled slowly. “It’s just hilarious, honestly, that you think I’m that gullible.” She said bitterly. Elias’ eyes flashed with panic as Addelyn slowly began inching towards him. He scrambled backward until his back pressed up against the wall of a small floral shop. Addelyn flipped a lock of dark hair over her shoulder and pressed her pointer finger to Elias’ chest. “You honestly thought I was dumb enough to believe your ridiculous spew of utter garbage. People’s views of the wall will not change because of what some scrawny teenage boy has to say about it. You think you can lie, and manipulate and destroy our views, but you can’t, and I’ll make sure of it.” Addelyn whispered dangerously. “No! That’s not true, I swear that…” Elias began to stutter before he was overcome by darkness, Addelyn’s face the last thing he saw before the world faded from his view. Elias jerked awake once again, his mind throbbing and cloudy from a headache. Addelyn wasn’t the girl she used to be, and his father’s tricks had mutilated her old personality so much that she had become something even worse than a supporter of The Wall. She had become exactly what his father had wanted Elias to be, his
mindless pawn. It hadn’t been his father who had taken him back here. It wasn’t his father who had cut him and caused bruises to line his arms and shoulders. It wasn’t his father who had tied him to the chair, locked him in this room, and now watched him from a monitor that pointed directly to where he sat. Maybe it was his father’s plan to make her that perfect citizen, and maybe he had even influenced her to take him back here. Yet none of this was his father himself. It was his new, shiny pawn that was ready to capture Elias and take him off the board. In fact, she already had. Elias heard the sound of a lock clicking open and Elias bit his lip in fearful anticipation of what was to become of him next. He had been foolish enough to think that he would win this game of chess when he was up against the undefeated. The Wall always won, his father always won, and evil always won. The metal door of the room slowly creaked open and Elias squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the person’s footsteps. He didn’t even need to look for confirmation of who it was, he already knew. In the darkness behind his eyelids, Elias inhaled sharply and whispered, “Hello, Addelyn.”
“Rose,” Illustration by Mars
Day 6427 By S.B.
“Daisy’s Candle,” Photograph by Andromeda
Days like knives, farther I’m pared, I stare at a world, events unfurling Curling up to sleep, I turn the page My future becomes my past Faster than I expected. I dream of a forgotten joy, When men and women Were girls and boys, And we’d dream wonderful things With the vitality of an unknowing mind. Like light passing through blinds Hitting dead skin, dust and debris, Creating canted rays, When we learn too much about the world, It can seem less beautiful. My vision blurs as tears accrue, My face dissolves away. I still radiate happiness outwardly, As intensely as I ever have Even as little remains to share. The moon sets behind the horizon, My candle illuminates my room. And again I turn the page, The book light on my right hand. Who knows how many pages left? “Full Bloom,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
Game of Thrones Predictions By Tom Nguyen
Jon will be the king Of all the Seven Kingdoms And sit on the throne
Insomnia
By Celia Bowen There once was a girl named seal, For her, sleeping was an ordeal And as much as you’d think She couldn’t sleep a wink But lay ‘wake till her brain oatmeal’d 13
An Uber Dilemma By Kayden
Some while ago, my friend and I were at the mall shopping for prom stuff. Through all the places we looked through, we found jewelry for her, and shoes for me. It was all going good until we wanted to leave. When we tried to call an Uber home, it came like expected, parked outside the mall. I spotted the Uber a little ways down from where we were waiting, but by the time I did, an elderly couple was already getting into the Uber. My friend and I rushed to the Uber but when we got there, the car had started pulling away and it was too late. I was really confused by what had happened, but I thought, “Okay, it’s okay,” and cancelled the ride. I called another Uber and my friend and I patiently awaited its arrival. This time, it did not park near the pick up zone and my friend and I wandered around looking for the uber. We tried calling several times too, but the driver hung up on us and canceled the ride. We ended up going back inside the mall and sitting there for a while. Luckily, my friend’s mom was home from work at that time, so she called her and we were assured of transportation home. The expected time of arrival would have been fifteen minutes after we called. However, thirty minutes later, there was no sign of her mom. I panicked a little, but soon, her mom arrived and we began to head home. On the way back, I laughed with my friend about the two Ubers, until her mom made a wrong turn and basically made a circle. We fixed the GPS navigation and finally made it home. As I waved bye to my friend and her mom, the feeling in “Blossoms,” Photograph by The Calico Cat my chest was pure relief from that day’s events.
The Winded Road By Kayden
Do you hate yourself, she asks No, I say, my gaze looking far away Watching the boy with the black sweater Purple and blue curls along the fabric Ending in the simple message of “love yourself” Depression laughs again, her head in her arms Liar, she lingers, dropping a lit match If only I could disappear somewhere, I think Beyond the horizon, far into the setting sun I don’t, and I’m standing there again The edge of despair, the line I don’t cross I see the look in his eyes reflected in my own Disappointment, nothing more, nothing less How do I solve myself, I wonder, as I go along Down the winded road is shadows and darkness She’s sitting there again, arms folded on her chest Do you hate yourself, she studies the moon I lower my head, reaching for the dirt, I draw Circles and circles as she watches me quietly No, I don’t, I repeat to the silence The clock ticks slowly, no whistle in the night I feel a pat of approval on my head, then The air stills as the night settles down again. 14
“Elm Tree,” Illustration by Mars
The Building on 66th Street Part 8 By Andromeda
Ariana Let’s start from the beginning. The very top. Before I found Kate over the hole I dug, before my boyfriend choked to death, before what happened to my brother, my mother, and my father…I want to start as far back as I can remember. One of my earliest memories was me sitting over my tea set. Everything set perfectly in place. The earl grey tea in delicate cups, chocolate chip cookies on floral plates, and just the right number of dolls gathered around the table. All I needed now was someone to fill that one last empty seat. My mother was out of the question, she was always “too busy now for tea.” So I move on to my brother in the next room. His game set making loud pew-pewing noises, he shouts into the microphone around his head. I tiptoe in the room shyly. “Mike, get your butt back in gear we need--” “Derek,” I say quietly, “Would you please play with me?” “No Ari,” he says without looking
up, “I’m busy, go ask mom.” “But mom never wants to join my tea party.”
They were all bad people. They all deserved what happened to them. And if they could be bad, why couldn’t I?
“Ari!” he snaps, “Just…. Go ask dad or something, or I don’t know, find a friend.”
I’m thinking of all this, shovel in hand, as I stand over Kate, her eyes racked with shock and fear as she looks up at me.
I flinch at his tone of voice.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Okay…” I didn’t want to ask Kate, she got mad last week. She walked into my room and upon seeing my number of barbies and toys and my large bed, she stormed out saying, “I don’t wanna play anymore.” Dad also never wanted to play, he said he was always too busy, he had work to do, no time to play. I went back up to my tea set and played by myself as usual. So you see, ever since I was a girl I had been neglected. No one really cared for me, in my family, not like they should. Even my friends, like Kate, were always too jealous of me to be “real” friends. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand these people who put such unrealistic expectations on me. My dad who killed himself over some woman whom he barely knew, my mother who never gave a damn about me outside of how I made her look, my brother who left me behind, and my fake friends.
“Ari, what are you doing?” she says, scrambling away from me, her back hitting a tree. “What- what is this?” “What does it look like? I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.” Her eyes widen even more, “You did this didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question anymore. She knew, unfortunately for her. “You really weren’t supposed to see this,” I sigh, “If you had just stayed out of things, none of this would be happening right now.” I begin to inch closer to her, hoping she’s so wrapped up in her shock she doesn’t notice me. Just a little bit closer. “Stayed out of things? Ari, what’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”
jaw clenches. “Whats wrong with me? There’s nothing wrong with me. If you had all just been nicer, left me alone. None of this would be happening right now. This, this is karma.” My voice and anger rises. “If you all would have been better friends, better family, none of this would be happening right now!” Kate notices me getting closer and quickly bolts up. She starts running through the trees, several feet ahead of me. I’m following closely behind, my breathing getting heavy as I’m forced to lug around the heavy shovel. Tree branches catch on my clothing as I shove them out of my way. It’s dark out, and the only thing illuminating my way besides my flashlight is the moon piercing in from the skyline. I don’t know where I’m running and neither does Kate. I just know I can’t let her get away. Eventually we reach a stream. Kate takes the opportunity to try and cross the running water, she’s far enough ahead of me now that I won’t be able to catch up once she crosses. I sprint faster, my breath bursting out in hard heavy gasps. Once I’m close enough, Kate is already almost at the other side, with a grunt I chuck my shovel at her. She cries out and lands on Continued on Next Page
My eyes narrow, and my 15
the hard rocks with a thud. Blood pools behind her into the water from where she fell. Her leg is a mess from where she scraped it on the rocks. With desperation on her face she tries to stand up, but quickly falls back down with a wince when that same leg gives out. I make my way over to her, my body beginning to relax once I realize she’s cornered. Finally, I can finish this. Kate’s fear turns to desperation as she sees me getting closer. “If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this,” her voice trembles, “No one needs to know. I can keep my mouth shut.” “Oh Kate,” I say, “You never know how to keep your mouth shut.” I lift the tool above my head and swing down heavily with all my might, but Kate quickly skirts out of the way. Fear and desperation become rage and with a shout she tackles me to the ground. I land with my back in the water, my whole body is soaked and shivering cold. My back throbs from where I landed. Kate is still on top of me, her hands holding my shoulders down. “God I hate you!” she screams, “You’re not a victim, you don’t get to act like your life is so awful you pretentious jerk! ‘Mommy and Daddy didn’t play with me,’ so what? You’re not special, 16
you shouldn’t get to kill people just because you feel neglected!” “You don’t get it! You were always too busy being jealous, too busy feeling slighted in some way, don’t act like you’re any better!” With a jerk I remove my arm from her grasp. I grab a rock and strike her face. She falls back with a splash and I stand up. My whole body is shaking as reality begins to sink in more and more. Once again, I’m going to kill someone I considered almost family. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I say hoarsely, “If mother had just been more kind…. If Derek hadn’t walked in that day… If you would have all just…” I choke up as my hand clenches around the rock.
“Blooming,” Photograph by Jojo Queen
Kate continues to try to scramble away. Her movements are slow and jerky, unable to get her leg to move the way she wants it too. I can see the angry tears streaming down her face, they mingle with the ugly gash gracing her left cheek. I trudge across the water to pick up the shovel that had been shoved a ways away. I lift it over my head as I look down at her. When she looks up, her blue eyes meet mine. “Please,” she whispers. I don’t hesitate.
To Be Concluded... “Old Music,” Photograph by Andromeda