Midnight Writers February 2023

Midnight Writers

February 2023

Kidding, kidding! I’m sure you’re already taken. I am doing perfectly alright, dear Fan. My die is cast, fates aligned, stars hanging in the balance, all that. There was a little kerfuffle last year with an old ‘friend’ who belonged firmly in the past, but this year has been delightfully smooth sailing up in Olympus.

How are you? Are you well? Might you happen to be looking for a true love? I’m famous for that, you know. I could set you up--

Anyhow.

With love, Aphro

Ask Dite

Dear Dite,

I have an adorable pet bird at home that I love to pieces. Only problem is, he’s been acting awfully suspicious lately. Chirping--beeping, more like--in the dead of night, always falling silent when I enter a room, and worst of all, starting to repeat strange phrases like “Surveillance complete. Uploading data”. He’s a tiny blue parakeet, mind you. Any advice?

Sincerely, Birb Boy

Dear Birb Boy,

It seems that you may be dealing with a P4ak33t 2.0 model by Heph & Aestus Enterprises. Pretty common issue when the P4k3 first came out. Blue ones specifically seemed to pick up words directly from H&A meeting rooms. HUGE privacy issues. Exposed corporate secrets for like a month. Simple fix though. All you need to do is–what?--One moment, please.

(What’s wrong, Aphro?...Yeah, so what?... Non-disclosure?...What do you mean, billion-drachma lawsuit?!)

It has come to my attention that I may not advise you on that front, as I do not have knowledge on the inner workings of H&A Enterprises. (cough Yeah, right cough) It does not seem that your P4k3 is not defective, but feel free to purchase a new one, or contact an H&A repair shop with any questions.

(We good?...Perfect, if he tries to sue, he won’t have a foot to stand on….I mean, you’re not wrong, but that’s rude.)

Not Legally Responsible For Your Further Actions, Dite

issuu.com/midnightwriters

Verily Vérité

Greetings, one and all! It is February which can only mean one thing--wildly varying weather patterns and temperatures from below freezing to upwards of eighty degrees!

Oh, Maryland. Why are you like this?

But let’s talk about it, shall we? Let’s talk about how for the past three months of winter, we have yet to get a single snow day--and likely never will again. Thanks, Montgomery County. We really appreciate you making all future snow days “virtual learning” days. That was just what we were hoping for. Brilliant.

In other news, Valentine’s Day happened. Except that Literary Magazine was barred from handing out Candy-gram poems because someone decided to steal our fundraising slot. A month full of chill and bitterness, this February was. Many a heart was broken.

But at least there was the school play. That was fun :) TTFN, starcatchers. Until next time, we March on.

3

À la prochaine, Vérité

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Cupid, Vérité, viento de levante, Erebus Tree, svnmii, and sophka wchs.midnightwriters@gmail.com

comparisonality

by svnmii

i) narrative

he was like summer on rage very approachable because he always had this angry look but maybe it was passion there are other times he is determined he wouldn’t give up hungry for more meanwhile

she was like winter when it was wistful something you’d like to see from a warm cabin in the season she wasn’t exactly approachable either like you could just enjoy watching her from a safe distance

she was most definitely passive assertive lips drawn in a tight line

ii) perspective they say love is timing

i think you could see them but also not

like they’re too different, you know? well, at least it seems

they get along too well even if they’re bickering (it’s not serious) bringing out the realness of one another every once in a while there are compromises every once in a while all is calm

iii) she

i always try keeping my composure it’s so hard(!) but i like that

he isn’t afraid of anything really, but he was the one that approached me first.

i tried to not notice him he’s ridiculous eventually… i learned he just would not give up not that i pitied him but i guess he just freezes me sometimes like maybe i can stare all day and laugh to myself

like maybe i know what passion tastes like now

oh, he’s so ridiculous

how could he see me?

i’m so grateful, though

4

‘Dance To This”, Illustration by The Wallflower

i always forget what i am in reality because whenever with him i’m in a different world

iv) he

I DON’T KNOW what got in my head BUT

i don’t understand she’s so SCARY at the same time she’s the splitting image of LOVELY

i sometimes forget how to walk and talk my brain goes gooey

i enjoy how mysterious she is AT FIRST she wouldn’t talk to me unless if it was IMPORTANT

i didn’t realize HOW MUCH I really needed her she taught me how to be patient what holding someone’s hand feels like ALL THE SMALL THINGS i wouldn’t really know

i like butterflies dyed purple hair

11 at night

green. by sophka

she always loved the color green she loved that it was the color of nature the color of life.

he learned to love the color for her too, he watched from above as she strummed her fingers through the grass plucking the soft strawberries from their stems. as the green tree began to gleam, his tears had now glistened in the sunlight. the both of them had lay there, below that tree, only she was six feet under.

orpheus and eurydice

patroclus

by sophka

i ran my thumb across the high of his cheekbone feeling his warmth feed into my own body, like an electric current. he looked so peaceful lying there on my stomach, deep laughs forming from his chest falling from those gorgeous lips i couldn't keep my smile at bay. because even after every wound even after every heartache, endless tears and lonely nights it would all be worth seeing him like that. because

i still found the one for me, achilles.

5

“Final Date Before the Nine Lonely Months" Illustration by flaming elmo

elysian peace

by chiharu

the two dance once more looking where her eyes once were their hands clasped as one.

War of the Seas

by Halimede

Two ships meet in the dead of night. One holds victory. The other holds defeat. Neither knows themselves, And neither knows the other.

“if you can name every series i will actually pay you real money”, Illustration by viento de levante

6

“Yearning”, Illustration by The Wallflower

Firelight by

Halimede

The fire burns brighter and ever higher.

In the corner, Elka cowers. She tries not to. She tries to draw on the well of courage she had found so ready every other time she’d faced danger and death with Cecelia by her side. She tries to calm her nerves, steel her heart. Isn’t she meant to be a hero? The defender, the leader of them all?

But then. She’d always had Cecelia by her side to draw strength from.

“I loved you once,” says Cecelia lightly. Her fingers are alight with dancing flames.

Elka pushes herself up on her elbows. She chokes on the tangy taste of blood as it drips down, down, down.

“You were meant to stand by my side.” She might be imagining it, but Elka thinks she hears Cecelia’s voice crack.

She thinks, for a split second, of trying to speak. Of begging, of explaining, of raging at her traitor, her enemy. Her love, her other half.

In the end, the very idea exhausts her. She stays silent and tries to stand back up. The newly mottled burns weave a tapestry up her arms as they shift with every micro-movement.

The flames around them simmer slightly. In front of her, Cecelia crouches down, looking her in the eyes, gaze so unlike the starry-eyed dream-filled girl Elka used to know. She lays a hand against Elka’s cheek. It’s warm, still smoking.

Elka doesn’t flinch.

“Priya was right about you,” Cecelia murmurs. “I wish she wasn’t. But she was right about all of it. All of--” She throws out her arm-- “this. If only you could have seen that.”

A cough fights its way out of her lungs. Then another. They wrack their way through her, leaving her trembling from the onslaught, braced against the wall.

But Cecelia isn’t quite so untouched either. Frosted fractals line one cheek, tugging awkwardly at her mouth as she speaks, the skin looking deadened and ashy against the firelight. She holds one leg stiffly behind the other, the ankle twisted a bit too far to the right. Elka had gotten a few good hits in, at least.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But Priya’s right; I have to do it.” Cecelia seems to be speaking more to herself than to Elka, even when inches from her face. “You understand, I think. Even though you don’t want to.”

And her hand shoots forward, sparks alighting the tips of her fingers.

She holds it loosely. Right at Elka’s throat.

“I’ll miss you,” she says. A half-smile graces her face, almost cheeky. Just like the old days.

She inhales--

And it’s the last time she ever does.

Her own arm shot out in front of her, Elka screams in tandem with Cecelia as her hand presses flat against Cecelia’s heart.

And she freezes it from the inside out.

“Smoke Break”, Illustration by Hecate

7

bloc d'art: a haiku (and cry for help)

by Yuridice

no thoughts, head empty the bane of my existence i just want to draw

songbird by Vérité

In the midst of the garden hangs a gold-twined cage with a silent bird inside.

The bird is young, and small. It is new, as well, placed in the cage only a week prior after the death of the one that came before. It has blue-sheened, silver feathers and short, stubby wings. Its eyes are small and dull, and it stands utterly still.

Every day, without fail, the princess comes and watches it.

After all, the two are kindred spirits.

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“mobs todoroki 100%”, Illustration by viento de levante “Floradora”, Illustration by Yuridice

A Rising Chorus by

Eneas

This was, without question, the weirdest place he had ever been in. He wasn’t really sure what happened, but he was shoved through a portal into this strange dimension. This place was different. The grass was a bright green, and the trees were lush and tall. There was a snow capped mountain in the distance, and colorful flowers all around his feet. The grass was a bit moist, and the air had the smell of a passing light rain. The air was filled with the tweeting and chirping of birds, coming from all around.

It would have seemed straight out of some kid’s dreams if it hadn’t been for the feeling radiating from everything around him. It was hard to place, even hard to identify it was there, but every blade of grass, every tree, every flower, and especially from the bird songs. He should not be there. He has stepped foot into a place he will never forget. Turning back around, the portal he came through had closed. Seeing no other option, he put his foot forward. At once, it felt like a flaming spear had been shot up his leg. He immediately drew his foot back again, but it did not seem to do any lasting damage. Inspecting the ground in front of him, he noticed a peculiar red flower among the yellows and blues. The world was not simply safe, it seemed. There was a path to his left, but he was hesitant to take it. He looked around. The meadow he stood in was not just green, but dotted with many of these fiery reds, standing alone for an unknowing passerby to step in the wrong spot. It seemed the meadow was telling him to take the path, and he did so hesitantly.

He followed the path into a forest, and he noticed the light chirps and twitters from birds again, just above the sound of his footsteps, but eerily noticeable in the quiet forest. Soon enough, he came across a split in the path. Both choices looked identical, looking like mirror images of each other, reflected across the split itself. Still, the chorus of birds droned in the background. He decided on the one to his right. If it did not turn out well, he would just remember the way back. He continued on the way.

He came across many more splits as he traveled, and in each he just took the right path. Walking the path, he noticed small critters moving deep in the forest. None called, or squeaked, or croaked, or made any voluntary warning of their presence. They simply moved, disturbing fallen sticks as they continued. The chorus of birds was slightly louder. He continued walking until he encountered another split in the road. He moved to take the right once again until

he noticed the simple wooden sign. It was simple, just a plank stuck in the ground. He did not see a sign, or marking, or any type of disturbance on the sign itself. It simply was there, being a warning, a recognition, a declaration, or simply a wooden plank in the ground to distract him fromHe suddenly turned around, realizing he had not looked back in a very long time. He stared in shock. The path he had been walking on was simply not there. It was not a dirt path, not a grass path, but a dense forest behind him. He walked slowly backwards, and the forest inched forwards. He turned back around and broke into a run, running down the right path as fast as he could. The chorus of birds was growing louder and louder, filling his head with chirping and bird songs. He suddenly stopped, at the edge of a cliff. He turned around. The forest was right behind him, chasing him as fast as he ran.

He looked back at the cliff. He still had no idea what brought him here, or what this place even was. The view was breathtaking, but he was too out of breath to consider it. The chorus of birds began to dissipate, but not in intensity, simply in number. The many voices began to combine, becoming louder and louder as one voice. A large orb-like bird rose in front of him, almost chanting with the voices of a thousand separate birds, all together.

9

“BIRB”, Illustration by Hecate

Circles by Child13

Why does 2 + 2 equal 4?

Why can’t it equal 5?

What is the human brain without reality?

What is reality without the human brain?

Who relies on what?

What relies on who?

How did we come to exist?

Why is life the way it is?

What is a population without its leader?

What is a leader without its population?

A leader.

What's a leader?

A man who is stronger than others?

Why is he better than everyone?

Why is he in charge?

Why does he have such power?

Is the life we live the only one we can see?

See?

What is beyond our reach?

How far can the human mind breach?

Why must I spell “color” without the “u”?

What secrets do you hide? Please tell! My world seems, What's the word, Dull! So very drab!

But…what even is a secret? And…why must you hide it?

Why must we hide everything!?

Oh why can’t you tell me!?

Am I what my father says?

What's the word?

“Untrustworthy”?

What do secrets hide? Does it hold the answer? To questions like What is 2+2?

Sweet child.

Sweet lovable, adorable, terrifyingly smart Child.

With all that smoke your big brain is making, you’ll stink up the entire facility!

So. Why don’t you sleep? You’re tired, child.

Sleep. Now.

You sweet Lovable

A small girl in a hospital gown yawns loudly. It echoes in the eerie silent room. Decorated with paper drawings, chalk markings, and cute little pigs.

A giant painted pig stares straight ahead. Though the little girl says she feels like its watching her.

10

FOOLISH

Adorable

child.

Swine”, Illustration by Child13

In a friendly way.

The little girl yawns again. This time much louder. Rubbing her tiny eyes with her tiny fists.

A woman dressed as a nurse comes into the room. Her little shoes clicked methodically. As if timed and readied. “Are you done drawing, dear?” Oh. Her voice is sweet. So sweet and surgery. Like milk chocolate dipped in more chocolate.

So sweet it might make all of your teeth fall out.

“Yeah,” The little girl says. Before she looks at the nurse strangely.

The little girl could have sworn the nurse was different. Something about her, she couldn’t quite put her little fat finger on, was off. Different.

Ah! That's what it was.

“Miss Nurse? You're looking a little bit fat! Did you take some extra cookies from the jar?”

The nurse’s face faltered. A twinge of unhappiness flashed and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Instead, she put a finger to her lips. Made a small shushing sound. The little girl giggled.

Banging could be heard. Along with the overwhelming sound of overlapping screaming and crying.

But. The little girl and the nurse continued to smile at each other. Like partners in crime. So innocent. So lovely.

The banging grew louder. Desperate. It grew faster. The screaming became coarse. A rasp galloped alongside the screaming.

The nurse took the little girl by the hand. So easily. But before the little girl left, she drew a circle. A precise one. A perfect one. Big enough to fit herself and the nurse together. She drew it around herself. As the screaming turned to roaring. The roaring into screeching. And the screeching into sobbing.

The little girl closed the chalk circle. And so the cycle repeats.

Chapter III: Alternae Formae by Willow and Wisp

and there the two figures lay, winter’s sun and summer’s snow face to face, familiar yet foreign

winter’s sun is not the same as always soft smiles replaced with vengeful stares beautiful branches sprouting from a bed of auburn now replaced with towering boughs twisting every which way. there’s danger in those eyes of hers, scornful and distrusting not to her precious snow, but to something more in willow’s place a foreign creature stands risen from the ashes her mere presence a protest.

summer’s snow is changed no longer human nor flame but something great and yet so, so familiar an albino dragons, that’s what they are snowy whites dancing with radiant blues ovine horns replaced with draconic eyes twinkling with unseeable galaxies in wisp’s place a beautiful dragon stands revitalised and alive their eyes kind yet troubled

both figures stand as willow’s antlers start to shift and begin to flower.

SUS OCULOS VIGILANTE IN AETERNUM.

“Alternate Forms”, Illustration by Willow and Wisp

Shatter (Sky School) by

Dionysus

Celeste stared at the mirror in their room blankly, and the reflection stared back. It was still himself. Well, not really.

Frankly, just saying himself, when referring to them, felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, their name, their face. Everyone said., time and time again, things they never did. Nothing about themself felt right, to others or to themself, everything felt wrong.

They just sat at the foot of the full length mirror, analyzing their face. Fluffy, straight, aurburn hair, and slightly waxy. Light, smooth skin, freckles painted across their face. Bright yellow eyes, a small crescent inside as their pupils, and an unnatural glossy shine coating over them. Everything about their face felt fake, doll-like in almost every way.

“How long are you going to sit here for?”

Celeste turned around, hearing the all too familiar voice of Rustin hovering over them. They turned their head back over to the mirror.

“As long as I want.”

“It’s been nearly thirty minutes. What’s even the purpose?” Rustin questioned as Celeste stared into their reflection, seeing the doubt wash over their face.

“...I don’t know. I think I just got lost in my own head for a bit,” they said, a bit unsure. They didn’t feel like it was for no reason. Rustin seemed to catch onto something, that weird tapping faintly playing in his head again.

“I think I know what's wrong, buddy,” he stated, “Something isn’t right. What’s shown and told to you isn’t the full story. In order to get those answers, something needs to break.”

With those words, the sound of a metal platter pounded his eardrums. He started down a hammer placed right at his feet, before looking up at the vision of Rustin, concerned.

“...Where did this come from-?”

“Oh that ain’t relevant! I mean, you already have everyone staring at you for atrocities you didn’t do! And you have me here, so it’s not too strange…” Rustin cut off, dodging the question.

Celeste picked up the hammer, before looking over at the mirror again, their reflection staring with a concerned look. Rustin’s figure was almost identical if not only for a green spike crown and what was like a child’s scribbles over his eyes.

“No, no. That’s not it. The mirror isn’t what I was talking about.” Rustin calmly chimed. Celeste’s growing unease made them stare at the unreal reflection.

“Then… What do you want me to do with this?” they asked, eye-ing the hammer in their hands. The reflection of Rustin turned their head to them.

“Your face.”

“...What-?”

“That isn’t your real face.”

“I-I… I’m not going to hit myself with a f****** hammer! What-”

“If you’re anything else, you’ll bleed and bruise. But if you’re anything like me-” he stated. Rustin's voice grew passive-agressive, “-you’ll fracture. Just as intended.”

“What?! I already said I’m not taking a hammer to my face, Rustin, shut up-”

“Do it.” He commanded, blunt and angrier than he had ever heard his voice, “Break it.”

“Shatter.”

12

“Something I Didn't Say”, Illustration by Hecate

Untitled Document by Alaska

I got the call on Saturday night. I was sitting in my chair when it happened. I replied that I would be there as soon as possible as I walked into the equipment room. I turned on the lights. I grabbed my gloves, pliers, and other pieces of equipment. I walked down the steps into the garage. I chose the Jeep. “You never know what might happen. Have to be ready for everything.” I mumbled to myself. I got in the driver's seat. It always gave me a rush of adrenaline. As I drove over to the restaurant, I wondered to myself, “what is it this time?” I saw a bird. I pulled into the parking lot and got out. As I opened the door, I saw all the customers crowded in a large circle near the edges of the building. The cashier ran over to me. He was shaking so violently, I thought it was an earthquake. He told me the problem was in the private room in the back. He walked me over there. When I got to the door, I drew out my flashlight and my freeze ray. “Good luck,” he said.

When I opened the door, he started to scream and ran out crying. At the same time, an old woman fainted. I inched my way inside. The lights were off. I hit the switch. They flickered for a second, but went off. I walked in a little further. There. I saw it. Only for a second. It had disappeared into another corner of the room. I slowly looked around. There it was again. A flash of yellow. I turned around. There it was again. I heard a scream from the customers in the main room. Then they were all screaming. I ran out and locked the door. There he was, facing me with a fiery anger in his eye. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. That's when it happened. He reached forward, quick as a snake. I ran toward him. He dodged me, and kicked me in the back. I spun around and punched him in the face. He went flying. I ran over ready to deliver the final blow, when he elbowed me in the stomach. I was enraged. So was he. He leapt towards me, ready to end it, but I caught him mid-air. This was it. The moment of truth. When I could tame the mustard. I knew if I could unscrew his cap, he would be tame like the others. This was it. Everyone was watching. If I screwed up now, he could escape into the night. To Be Continued…

13

“Untitled Picture”, by Alaska

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Midnight Writers February 2023