January 2019
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Cover: “Dat Ass(tronaut),” an illustration by Celia Bowen
This Page: Page 3:
“Envy,” continued “Listlessness,” a poem by S.B. “A Breath of Winter,” a photograph by Andromeda “Spoos,” an illustration by Celia Bowen “Lunar Eclipse,” a poem by The Calico Cat
Ask Aphro & Dite
• A tired bear asks how to stay awake to enjoy winter • A young astronaut wants to live on the moon
Beyond the Gloss
• Eos debunks the effectiveness of New Year’s resolutions
Andromeda’s Introspective Odyssey
• Andromeda talks about forming your own opinions
Page 4:
“Dream in Blue,” a poem by Eos “Blue Mountains,” an illustration by Mars “Hedgehog Hibernation,” an illustration by Tess “5 AM,” a poem by Kayden “Sunrise,” a haiku by The Dizzy Penguin
Page 5:
“Darkening Waves,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Ocean Tides,” a photograph by Eos
Page 6:
“Darkening Waves,” continued “Hibernation,” a manga by Aya Hatashima “Beneath the Facade,” a story by Andromeda
Page 7:
“Beneath the Facade,” continued “Art in Pink,” a photograph by Eos
Page 8:
“Seniors vs. Freshmen,” a rant by Eos “Senioritis,” a haiku by Tom Nguyen “The One Who is Many,” an illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH “Curly Hair,” a poem by Helen Bezuneh
Page 9:
“Envy,” a story by Blue Serendipity “The Bond of Brothers,” an illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH
Page 10:
Page 11:
“Feather,” a story by Eos “Alone with Myself,” an illustration by Idunn
Page 12:
“Feather,” continued “Find Myself,” a poem by Kayden “Under the Lamplight,” a photograph by Mars
Page 13:
“Juxtaposition of Orange and Black,” a story by Kayden “Holly,” a photograph by The Calico Cat “Firsts,” a story by Yellow Seesaw
Page 14:
“Posters on the Wall Part 3: Forgotten,” a story by The Midnight Raven “Snoozing,” an illustration by Wine Merchant “Snow Days,” a haiku by Tom Nguyen “Until Spring,” a haiku by The Calico Cat
Page 15:
“The Building on 66th Street Part 4,” a story by Andromeda
Page 16:
“The Building on 66th Street Part 4,” continued “Zero 2,” an illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH
issuu.com/midnightwriters midnightwriters2018@gmail.com
Ask Aphro & Dite
Dear Aphro, How can I keep myself from hibernating so I can experience winter? Yours, Bearly Awake Dear Bearly, Winter’s a magical experience, but bears hibernate to survive. If you want to stay awake for a bit longer, you should stock up on more food or move to a place that isn’t likely to run out of food. I don’t recommend staying up the entire winter, it wouldn’t be healthy! Plus, who doesn’t want to sleep for over six months? Some of us can barely get six hours! Don’t miss out on some beauty sleep. Remember, hibernation is a survival instinct, but it’s to conserve energy when food is scarce. If you were in an area where food is plentiful even in the winter, you may not experience the winter you want but you won’t have to hibernate for months. With love, Aphro Dear Dite, I want to live on the moon when I’m older! Yours, A Young Astronaut Dear Young Astronaut, That’s an impressive goal! To accomplish it however, you’re going to have to figure out your basic survival needs. First of all, shelter. Obviously you’ll arrive on a rocket, so perhaps you could use that to your advantage and turn it into a makeshift moon-hut. Then, you’ll need food and water. This would be a lot more difficult due to the fact that food and water aren’t found naturally on the moon. If you can figure out how to take care of your survival needs, you’ll be able to live on the moon! With love, Dite
Beyond the Gloss
Hello Midnight Writers, and welcome to our January issue! Around this time of year, people tend to venture into the art of self-improvement as newly made resolutions begin to take shape. We set loose mandates based on who we want to be, what we want to become, whether it’s someone who is smarter, kinder, healthier. But what if our resolutions are meant to be broken? What if our best selves are not founded on a yearly determination to eat more pumpkin seeds? Allow me to present this startling statistic: 80% of New Year’s resolutions fail by the second week of February. (This may explain why my resolution to watch less Netflix has failed miserably.) Now, before you slam the magazine down in outrage, perhaps this is not entirely a bad thing. Rather than setting vague resolutions solely in the month of January, perhaps in order to be our best selves we should focus on improvement whenever we feel like it. For example, if someone wants to treat their cat nicer, why wait until January to do so? If New Year’s resolutions are bound to fail, the time to act upon our goals is in our hands entirely. And while resolutions are admirable in their focus on improvement, sometimes they can foster negative self-perception as we strive to achieve our goals in ways that sacrifice our positive mental and physical mindset. What I’m trying to say here is that New Year’s resolutions are what we make of them. The broad majority of the time, this means that ultimately they are left in the dust, goals we look back on with a disappointed grimace. If we truly want to succeed in our goals, we must take the initiative to grow year-round, not just at the turn of the new year. I believe that with a positive mindset and firm steps in place, growth and change is possible, whether resolutions are made or not. (Take that, Netflix!) Keep that in mind when you look back on your resolutions. Happy New Year Midnight Writers, and see you next month!
Andromeda’s Introspective Odyssey
Recently I have been trolling the internet too much. I know that’s nothing special, but as a result of me trolling the internet too much I have come across one of the newest fads, specifically the deactivated charcoal fad. Theoretically what’s it supposed to do is pull the toxins from your body. It has a very porous texture and a negative electrical charge, allowing it to attract positively charged molecules. For example, toxins and gases. Currently people are using it to brush their teeth, to detoxify while eating, and as face masks. However after half an hour of research I quickly found out that it is supposed to be used for people who have poisoned themselves or had a drug overdose, and is only for emergencies, because it will also suck up all the good positively charged nutrients in your stomach. When you try to brush your teeth with it, it is so harsh on your teeth and gums it could severely weaken them through regular usage, and the molecule is too large to have any lasting or positive effect as a face mask. Yet I can go to Flower Child and buy a more expensive detoxifying charcoal lemonade for 3 dollars versus the 2 dollar regular lemonade. The question is why do such obvious scams become so popular? The answer is group mentality, and picking and choosing your evidence. Most of the people like anti-vaxxers and flat-earthers are able to believe so staunchly in their theories because they pick and choose their evidence while simultaneously ignoring all the studies that prove them wrong. It’s not that they are stupid, in some ways it’s just human nature to question and be stubborn in our beliefs. My point is do your own research, and form your own opinions with the least amount of bias as possible.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Eos, Andromeda, Celia Bowen, Kayden, Aya Hatashima, The Calico Cat, Blue Serendipity and Idunn. 3
Dream in Blue By Eos
At night I see my life in fragments People and places That ignite and fade Just sparklers in the night sky, Receding landmarks in the abyss of my head. The memory crumbles in my hands Before I can begin to remember And retrace my steps back to you When we were standing in the blue haze, Backs against a dissolving reality. It’s too late for this world. A landmark receded, A sparkler burned, A reality dissolved. So let’s meet where it’s blue. “Blue Mountains,” Illustration by Mars
“Hedgehog Hibernation,” Illustration by Tess
5 AM
By Kayden 5 AM, the sun’s not out Soon everyone will be up and Rushing to work, school So I take my time now in the lonely quiet And I think, and think Contemplate I’m not a failure I know that as a fact, see No matter what they say I’m okay The words you say to me, edged with pain Yet somewhere deep down, I know None of it’s true You’re lost, wandering I’ll give you room to grow Hey, don’t blame it on yourself You’re beautiful like me.
Sunrise
By The Dizzy Penguin The sun has risen But I’m still asleep in bed Time for a new day 4
Darkening Waves
By The Midnight Raven Each year, when the Harvest Moon’s tangerine light shined over the darkening coastline, someone 17 years of age stepped into the murky waters and gave themselves to the sea. Sacrificing their own breaths so the sirens could continue to use theirs. In this town, the inhabitants were dependent on the lies of a drunken tale told at the counter of a tavern and at the end of a glass bottle. These stories stated that this town was protected by the sirens, an enchanting creature that was known for luring sailors into the water’s depths with their shrill song. It was said that if one 17-year-old gave up their own life as gratitude to the sirens, the creatures would not strike boats and attract with their voices till the next Harvest Moon. This year, as the sun dipped under the hills and the stars wrapped themselves in the blanket of the night, a girl stepped towards the rolling tides. Strands of her auburn hair had been woven with indigo ribbons and a lily crown, iridescent seashells peeking out from behind the petals, sat atop her forehead. Her emerald eyes snapped through the hordes of people crowded by the ocean’s shore. She stopped in her tracks just before the tide line and stood silently as the opening ritual began. Sea salt was sprinkled on her freckled shoulders, and the 3 governing officials placed sand dollars in her hands before she quickly tucked the smooth objects into the pockets of her dress. Only the people standing in a close vicinity to her could see the tears that pricked her eyelids. She wasn’t ready to leave. There was still so much she wished to accomplish. “But what was a higher honor than serving the sirens?” Her mother had whispered to her the previous night. The girl was named Lilia, due to her mother’s fondness of the prevalent aquatic plant, and she could think of
endless accomplishments that were more honoring. But she gritted her teeth and kept her strawberry brushed lips pressed together. Once you were chosen to serve the sirens, by a random process that was never disclosed, there was nothing else you could do. As the opening ceremony came to an end, Lilia turned away from the crowd and faced the glistening sea. She took one step, the frigid water tingling her toes, and a foggy memory rushed back to her head. She recalled sitting by the window sill, wiping stray dust off the glass pane as she sang a traditional lament of a missed opportunity of love. Her older brother strummed on the lute to the tune of the words she sang. She remembered the glint of his smile when the final note sounded. She would miss his crooked grin. She took another step forward, the water beginning to seep the hem of her flower-embroidered dress. Another memory rushed through her head. A brisk summer night, the rush of wind through her hair, Lilia dashed to the seaside and danced hand in hand with her closest friends under the stars’ glow. Lilia felt a sharp slice on the bottom of her foot that had most likely came from a broken seashell. However, she
hardly flinched, the pain wouldn’t matter soon. Another step, another memory. Solitude, silence, a chill breeze rushing in from the ocean and matting her hair as she read folklores in the darkness of night. The water was up to her knees. Now, the incessant chatter that came from the sands of the beach grew fainter. She looked back on her school days with the next steps. Remembering the rush to take notes and get perfect marks, it all seemed purposeless now. But maybe when anyone had the time to look back on everything they had done, one last time, everything seemed that way. Lilia inhaled deeply and stared forward towards the endless lapping water and where the inky sky met the sea. Lilia squeezed her eyes shut and continued forward through the freezing liquid. Only when it began to reach her shoulders did she pause. For the last time, Lilia looked back on all her memories, a storybook of her life flipping behind her closed eyes. She didn’t waste time on thinking what she should have done differently, and instead, just remembered. Remembered the moments that brought smiles to her face and a pink blush to her cheeks. Even remembering the moments that made her resent “Ocean Tides,” Photograph by Eos
5
the world for what it had done to her. With a sharp exhale, she snapped open her viridescent eyes and turned back to look at her seaside town. She lifted her arms and waved at the people crowding the shore, before flickering her eyes downwards to the murky sea. She wished deeply to turn back, but she couldn’t. She was a gift to the sea and she must fulfil that role.
With a final shaky breath, Lilia broke through the frigid water’s surface and pushed herself forwards until she could no longer feel soft sand beneath her feet. Then, she let herself sink. Deeper into the pitch-black depths of the sea that she used to gaze upon from behind the glass of her window. In her final moments, her lungs burning in agony for breath, Lilia
glanced through the salty water to that tangerine moon above her. The last thing she saw was the tinted glow of moonlight, before her vision was tainted by darkness. Before Lilia was claimed by the murky waves of the sea.
“Hibernation,” Manga by Aya Hatashima (Read from right to left)
Beneath the Facade By Andromeda
Jaclyn hums as she puts her makeup on, her brother’s music blasting in the room next door. Foundation, concealer, eyeliner, lip gloss, done. She tosses the items back into one of the messy containers gathered on the bathroom counter, and plays with her hair until she is satisfied with her appearance. 6
Bang, bang, bang. “Hurry up, Jackie! God, you’re so slow!” Her sister’s pubescent voice grates on Jackie’s nerves, prompting her to inspect herself in the mirror longer than necessary. BANG, BANG, BANG. “It’s been 30 minutes, stop hogging you jerk!” “Coming, coming, chill.” Jackie pushes past her sister and hurries to find her purse.
“What are you all dressed up for?” her sister asks suspiciously. “Weren’t you going to the bathroom?” “I changed my mind.” “Pft, figures,” replies Jackie as she snags her wallet and stuffs it unceremoniously into the purse on top of the couch. “Going to see your boyfriend?” The girl says, hopping in front of the TV and grabbing the Xbox controller. “None of your business, twerp.”
“Whatever, just pick me up a soda or I’ll tell Mom.” Jackie snorts and shuts the front door behind her. Jackie smooths her skirt down and checks the clock on her phone for the fourth time since she got on the bus. She is already running late. The vehicle pulls to a stop, and she checks her makeup in her phone camera one last time and hurries off. She knocks loudly on the door in front of her. It’s covered in various forms of graffiti and expletives, and the edges are cracked and dirty. A tall boy opens the door, his blue hair tossed messily on his head, and he looks at her groggily underneath his eyelashes. “Jeez, what time is it?” “It’s almost noon Finn, you dult,” she says and walks into the room as if it were her own. “Too early,” he sighs. He walks over to the bed randomly placed in the middle of the small room and crashes face first. There are magazines, empty pizza boxes, and paint brushes scattered everywhere. The lamp is positioned sideways across the night stand, and the sink is filled with empty dishes and spray cans. “Come back later,” calls his muffled voice. “Sorry but no, don’t feel like it,” she grins, “Besides, we’ve gotta be at the exhibit in like 20 minutes. So get ready.” He sits up and makes a gesture towards his tank top and boxers. “Can’t you tell I’m already ready?” She sighs and moves to get off the side of his bed. “Wait,” he says and grabs a paper on the nightstand, “I want to show you something.” On the cover is the picture of a lotus flower, its blue petals drawn intricately in marker. On the bottom is the word Evolution scrawled in black ink. “What’s this?” “This is gonna be my first tattoo,” he says with a smile. She looks at it, impressed. “Really? That will look so great.”
His eyes gleam with excitement, and he sits up and grabs a marker. Then he begins drawing on his wrist. “I’m thinking of putting it here. Originally I was going to go with traditional pink, but I thought that would be too girly.” Jackie watches him trace the drawing in quick, fluid motions, like he’d done it a thousand times over. “So why this design?” “I chose it because it represents change. I’m trying to reinvent myself, y’know? I’m hoping to get out of this state soon...Go to New York, that’s where the art scene is.” Jackie frowns and looks down at him. His bangs fall over his eyes. The edgy cut doesn’t suit the round, feminine quality of his face. Even the lip ring and piercings seem out of place. She could still remember when he was just the nerd who studied too hard. He’s changed so much, but she doesn’t want him to leave. They’d been friends since they were kids, together since high school. Even after he decided to drop out. “Why soon, your whole life is here? Your friends, family...Me?” He glances at her, then looks away. “Yeah, but I can’t stay here forever. I need to get away, figure myself out. People here are just so fake, y’know? They act so much better than everyone else, but in reality they’re just posers. Like they pretend to be something they’re not.” Jackie stares hard at a piece of lint on her shirt. “I get it, I guess.” Finn suddenly gets up and kisses her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll stay together though.” She can’t help but feel like he was saying that just to please her. “Yeah, fine. But if I find out you just up and left me one day I’ll come all the way to New York just to kick your ass, got it?” He laughs. “Deal.” They end up arriving later than they had planned for the art exhibit, despite
their hopes of free food. Even though they were uninvited, they can sneak in because Finn is friends with one of the caterers. Once inside he is like a kid in a candy store, and has something to say about almost every painting. “Jackie, Jackie! This one is by Jean Gutierrez, it’s awesome, he’s a big upand-comer. Oh and this one is Michele Gutenberg, her style is modern yet classic…” Jackie laughs and lets Finn drag her all around the room as he yammers non-stop. Finally she walks over to a huge mural. The piece is abstract, but the colors are mesmerizing, layers upon layers of vivid paint on top of each other. Yet in the center the layers break off, and form a single round hole with a mirror in the center. The title hanging above it says “Beneath the Facade.” Jackie turns around. Finn’s hand is grasped loosely in hers and he’s leaning away from her, his eyes focused longingly on an attractive guy. A look he’s never had with her on his face. “They pretend to be something they’re not.” He belongs here more than he knows. She squeezes his hand tightly and points at the painting. “Isn’t this amazing?” “Yeah,” he says, looking away, “It’s okay.” “Art in Pink,” Photograph by Eos
7
Seniors vs. Freshmen By Eos A little while ago my friend Samantha (who, spoiler alert, happens to be the wonderful Vice President of Midnight Writers) and I were walking home from school when all of a sudden somebody threw a HAND GRENADE right at our feet. It was very clearly fake (as a matter of fact, it resembled a bottle of lime juice). As a result we didn’t jump, despite the obvious attempt to scare us. We looked behind us to see a group of freshman boys several feet away, looking away. I realized they were GENUINELY TRYING to pretend they didn’t just throw a plastic grenade at us. Even though they were THE ONLY OTHER PEOPLE “The One Who is Many,” Illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH ON THE SIDEWALK. STAR WARRIAH Instead of apologizing for throwing a plastic HAND GRENADE at us, they proceeded to stare at us in a shifty way that seemed to indicate they knew they had messed up. Their solution: act like they didn’t do anything and look at each other uncomfortably. While I was contemplating what kind of idiot decides to throw a fake grenade at someone, Sam proceeded to start yelling expletives at them from afar Stretch your hands Ready your fingers for war (of which shall not be repeated for the young ears of some of our Midnight Writers), which worked excellently in call- Grab your weapon of choice and Begin to brush, brush, brush ing them out on their baloney. They came up from behind us at the stoplight, one of them picking up the grenade, and Don’t mind the fallen Curls, they were never strong anyways said, “It’s not REAL, guys.” Assemble your strands, To which I replied with, weave them together, “NO KIDDING.” throw on a scarf, They looked down at the sidewalk really awkwardly, making the moment 2000 times more uncomfortable. Then make the knot tight, lay down, we crossed the street far, far away from the bizarre disclose your eyes. play of idiocy. They were still skulking away behind us. If there’s a moral to the story, it’s don’t be a jerk who throws But don’t move too much while you sleep-plastic grenades at people for a “hilarious prank” and then rise and release the ropes pretends it wasn’t them WHEN IT VERY CLEARLY that hang from your head WAS. This is why people don’t like freshmen. Let the scarf float The end. to the battleground beneath you. P.S. If you’re a freshman in Midnight Writers you don’t count, you’re awesome. Unleash the braids and whip your heavy head back and forth Widen your eyes, bare your teeth, let out a cry, By Tom Nguyen and pounce. Oops just failed a quiz And forgot to do homework Senioritis hits!!!
Curly Hair
By Helen Bezuneh
Senioritis
8
Envy
the mirror and sneered down at it. “To whiten my hair, a scream of How dare the mirror claim a dead girl fright,” she declared with a cackBy Blue Serendipity more beautiful than she? Surely even le. Her hands turned the valve on a the mirror knew that Snow White was large tank and a shrill scream ripped as dead as her own mother? However, through the air. A pale grey liquid Queen Grimhilde moved gracefulif the mirror truly did not know the splashed into her glass and it bubbled ly across the marble floor. Her dress girl was dead then perhaps the mirror as if it was boiling. Grimhilde wished dragged lightly, creating a neardid not know that she was the fairest? it had been Snow White’s screams that ly-floating effect. Her head was still “Snow White still lives, the fairest she’d be laughing along to. Alas, her pounding from the incessant gossip in the land,” revealed the mirror. Her murder must be a subtle and trailess of the noble ladies and the courtiers. mouth went dry as her mind numbed one. She turned to the window and How beautiful the Princess is, said threw it open. one. Grimhilde had scoffed at her and in shock. “Tis the heart of a pig you hold in your hand.” “A blast of wind to fan my hate! A frowned deeply. She was the Queen, “The heart of a pig?! I’ve been thunderbolt to mix it well!” she deserved to be praised, not her. tricked!” Grimhilde screeched, her evUpon her demand, a loud crack folThey had called Snow White a true ery fiber burning with uncontrollable lowed by a blinding white light sliced beauty to behold. A gem. The darling rage. How dare the huntsman betray through the dark night sky and hit little Princess. Fairest, of them all. her? She would kill him. She would the contents of her glass. She cackled But, the despicable twat was gone drag out the remainder of his life as once again, everything was going as from her life. The hunter had been sent slowly as possible. His every minute she wished! to kill her and had delivered her heart would be spent in agony. And Snow “Now, begin thy magic spell.” She to the Queen in a small black box. It White. She was going to kill Snow tipped the glass back and drowned felt warm in her hands even though it White herself! She was going to perthe entire potion in a single gulp. had been two days since it had been sonally deliver her back to her mother Her throat immediately closed in and brought back to her. She could feel it and father. started burning with such intensity beating in her hands even though she “A formula to transform my beauty that she started screaming and clawing was sure it was dead. into ugliness! Change my queenly her own self. The world faded in and Her feet stopped once she reached raiment to a peddler’s cloak!” she out of her sight as she was blinded by the top of a small set of stairs. Two purple curtains were pulled to the side declared as she rushed into her private pain. Slowly, it started to subside and laboratory. Books and papers littered she watched as the skin on her hands to reveal a large mirror. It’s frame the table held down by a few empty became shriveled up and grey, long was decorated with golden embellishvials. Jars of frog tongues and chick and boney. Warts sprung up on her ments that swirled around the metal legs filled her shabby shelves. A large skin and her hair fell around her face and around the reflective surface. The in unkept white knots. metal had been painstakingly polished cauldron took up the middle of the room, its black metal stained an un“Look! My hands!” Grimhilde everyday to perfection. flattering brown from previous brews. “Mirror mirror, on the wall,” said She pulled out a book and laid it on “The Bond of Brothers,” Illustration by HEHEHEH Grimhilde watching as smoke gathI AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH the table. ered in the middle of the mirror and “Mummy dust to make me old. To formed a floating face, “who’s the shroud my clothes, the black of night. fairest of them all?” To age my voice, an old hag’s cackle.” “Over the seven jewelled hills, Grimhilde moved swiftly and eabeyond the seventh fall, in the cottage gerly. With every second, excitement of the seven dwarves, dwells Snow grew within her. Snow White was White, fairest one of all,” stated the going to meet her mother soon! She mirror with hesitation. Grimhilde’s had heard the ungrateful girl wish fingers pressed down on the wooden for the passed Queen as a child and box harder, her nails nearly carving crescents. No girl could stay the fairest now she’d be fulfilling her wish in return for her own. A wish for a wish. even in death! Especially not Snow Grimhilde would be fairest in the land White! while Snow White could watch with “Snow White lies dead in the forest,” she snapped angrily. “The hunts- her mother and father. The glass in her hand was filled with strange potent man has brought me proof. Behold, liquids. It changed color with each her heart.” ingredient she added. She lifted the box to face level with 9
shrieked, overjoyed with her success. Her voice came out higher in pitch and much scratchier much to her pleasure. “My voice! My voice!” Her crazed cackle was harmonized with the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder. Now that she had succeeded in disguising herself, she had to start plotting Snow White’s murder. No matter how much Grimhilde desired to murder the girl so brutally that her screams became the song of the forest, she had to make sure no one would notice. She needed a death so quick and deadly for the girl that no one would be able to come to her aid.
“Ah! A poisoned apple!” Grimhilde exclaimed as she flipped through her book. She had caught the girl picking apples out of her gardens before. It was infuriating how the girl treated the castle gardens as if they belonged to her. Grimhilde was Queen, the castles belonged to her. Now, Snow White would be getting what she wanted. She’d be getting everything she wished for. Her eyes settled on a certain poison. “Sleeping death. One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever! Ah, but is there an antidote?” The antidote made her sneer. True
love’s kiss. As if someone could love someone as loathsome as Snow White. As if someone would kiss a dead girl no matter how beautiful they were. Grimhilde would be the fairest. She had spent years courting the King before he passed. Years had been spent on creating the perfect image of herself on the throne. She was the one people were to envy, to praise. Not Snow White. Grimhilde’s thin cracked lips pulled upwards into an ugly smirk. They will bury her alive.
“A Breath of Winter,” Photograph by Andromeda
Listlessness By S.B.
Softly, I sneak through my door, I drift off. My silhouette, evanescent, In the January night. I walk. My feet treading on frozen grass, Iced, brittle glass, it shatters. My breath escaping frosted lips I nearly slip. No sight of a moving shape, Moving even furtively, As I scout the horizon. I imitate a blissful zen, Eyes closed, Innately soothed by the cold, Mind awake, I’m submerged in it. Currents flow beneath my clothes, My soul escaping through my lips, Carrying my thoughts with it, I drift away. Even as I walk through the snow, I disturb its perfection. I see the snow in front of me. The whole world is still pristine, When I look back at my progress My perfect world is destroyed. I’m listless Wistful As I drift away...
10
Lunar Eclipse
By The Calico Cat The bright yellow moon Illuminates the night sky It slowly hides behind a wall of darkness And begins to show its true colors The color of blood
Feather
the flames in her eyes replaced by utter disdain. She pressed a thin hand onto an armchair cushion, as if testing its softness before Mrs. Maslow walked into choosing to flop down upon her room only to find herit, crossing her cargo-pant self already standing there. clad legs on Mrs. Maslow’s Instinctively she jumped coffee table. backward, grabbing her car “What happened to me?” keys from her pocket as a Mrs. Maslow turned the makeshift weapon. She did car keys around and around not cry out, for creating a in her hands, a nervous tic disturbance was something that the other her seemed to Mrs. Maslow tended to pick up on, glancing at Mrs. avoid at all costs. The other Maslow’s manicured hands her was very still. It was as they writhed. only after a minute of scared “I’m not quite sure I unsilence that she realized the derstand what you mean.” other version of herself was The other her rolled her waiting. eyes. “This is not anything For her. I ever want for myself. When she could finally This house, this family, this breathe again and her eyes suburban housewife stereofocused, Mrs. Maslow saw type version of me. This is the other her in its entirewrong, and we both know ty. Her long, unruly hair it.” running down her back, her The airs with which the father’s oversized bomber other her said this, the jacket on her shoulders, her condescending tone as if the eyes aglow with a seethother her knew there were ing intensity Mrs. Maslow two sides to the universe, knew all too well. Lookand that Mrs. Maslow was ing upon her now, Mrs. clearly in the wrong side, Maslow realized with a struck a nerve within Mrs. startling certainty that her Maslow. fiery stare mirrored the gaze “You think you know of her eldest daughter. My everything there is to know children. A wave of terror about the world, don’t you? knocked her momentarily You think this ‘struggling backward, only subsiding artist’ career can last you, when she remembered that that it’ll be enough to make today was a Friday: Katie ends meet? It’s not about was at rehearsal for the what you ‘want’ anymore. school play, Matthew was at I’d take this life any day soccer practice, and Lainey over choosing to live like a was in detention, she was vagabond. ” The other her sure. As it always did, Mrs. picked up a box of matches Maslow’s mind lingered on on the coffee table, toying Lainey, always the troublewith the wooden sticks maker, before returning to inside. the present. “It bothers you, doesn’t The other her was now it?” the other her said staring at Mrs. Maslow with suddenly. “I think you can’t what appeared to be curiimagine anymore. Why osity and mild revulsion,
By Eos
anyone would choose a different life than the one you have. Why anyone might want something other than a big house with a big yard, a fancy car, a job in the office. Why anyone would choose anything different from what you’d choose.” And then the other her stared up at Mrs. Maslow, her eyes studying her tensed face like a code she had just cracked. A sad, small smile played on her lips. “Something happened to me. What was it? Was it a boy? Was it a job? Or was it a whole life?” Mrs. Maslow turned away from the other her and reached behind her dresser, her fingers latching onto familiar curves and edges she had never truly stopped reaching for, even in her dreams. Her back to the other her, she stood heaving, holding a small, circular photograph housed in a tarnished frame. Within it, a picture of her troublemaker, the source of her
worries, her eldest. She could still remember it, as much as she tried to repress that day, fleeting images still haunted her in brief bursts. A girl in a thin jacket too cold for a January afternoon, stumbling into the waiting room with a swollen belly that said everything that words couldn’t. “Please.” Inevitable pain, and then a white light, a living, breathing thing placed into her arms, a person of her own creation. Though she could hear the nurses fretting, the cars whizzing, the universe moving at its unbothered pace just outside the window, in that moment everything that mattered was the bundle in her arms. It would be mere months later, after debt piled up and the girl got laid off from her meager waitressing job and she finally looked at her child in her arms, emaciated and weak and terrified, that she would make the most
11
“Alone with Myself,” Illustration by Idunn
difficult decision of her life on that fateful day outside of the city foster-care system, tears streaking down her face as she hugged Lainey goodbye for the last time. From what little she had heard from sparse contact with the social security agent, Lainey was a troublemaker, always causing her foster parents harm, harnessing a spark her mother had tempered the day she was born. So the girl decided to start anew. Enrolling in the community college, she swapped paintbrushes for textbooks, canvasses for reality. She landed a job as a
secretary, rising through the ranks with the ease of newly discovered raw potential. At the office, she met a man who spoke of golf and beer and vacations to Miami, the kind of dull normalcy she now yearned for. So she became Mrs. Maslow. So she moved into the sprawling house on Cherry Street, started a family, accomplished everything she seemed to have wanted, everything she could have done to make up for the version of herself that was not willing to make such a sacrifice. Now, Mrs. Maslow looked down at the photograph in
her hands. It had been taken on the day the girl had used Lainey as a subject of one of her future paintings, positioning her in a bird cage, infant arms stretching out of the bars. Looking at it now, Mrs. Maslow wondered if it was a portrait of her daughter, or herself? Was she the bird trying to batter its way free, or was she the cage? Mrs. Maslow now looked intently at the box of matches in the other her’s hands, an idea taking root. “You’re right,” Mrs. Maslow said as she took the matchbox from the girl on the armchair, “It was a whole life.” Striking a match on the center of
the armchair, Mrs. Maslow watched wordlessly as her other self was extinguished entirely. For creating a disturbance was something Mrs. Maslow tended to avoid at all costs. She then watched as the flames devoured everything she’d thought she ever wanted, fur rugs and linen cloth amounting to nothing, nothing at all. She gripped the photograph close to her as everything burned to ash. “I’m sorry.” As if apologizing could take her back to when the sparks burned brightly. As if apologizing could ever allow her to forgive herself.
Find Myself By Kayden Here I am again, standing at the edge The crossroads of my life, in the cold bitter air I haven’t been back since winter of sophomore year Why are you here, I ask the dark black shadow Depression smiles and answers me back You lost yourself again, you let yourself die I cry out in pain and agonizing screams Shouting at the girl who mirrors me Leave me, I don’t want you, I don’t need you She touches my hair and pulls me closer Why are you standing here again then The air hasn’t changed, the snow is still wet But it was me who had changed, and me Who came back, despite the kind voices who had helped My cheeks go cold, my legs shatter underneath me She stares into the distance, rocking on her heels Why are you still standing here, aren’t you cold I am, I think, but I can’t leave until I’m okay Go home, she commands, and I start to walk But for a moment, I stop and I stare up The shimmering sky abound with lights and glory Reminds me of a promise I made to myself Suddenly, the wind’s stings put me at ease And the harsh winter air is nothing more than a blanket Depression presses me for a response to her words I’ll be okay, I know who I am, where I’m going She smiles, then disappears into the darkening sky. 12
“Under the Lamplight,” Photograph by Mars
“Holly,” Photograph by The Calico Cat
Juxtaposition of Orange and Black By Kayden Easygoing laugh, and you lean back. Your sparkling eyes shift around as you continue to scroll on your phone. You flash an image around and laugh your special laugh again. The boy with the cargo pants playfully punches your arm and you punch back. You put your black box down and ease into a conversation with the cargo pants wearing boy. I watch you quietly, sipping on the sweet milk tea, orange, like your favorite color. Warm afternoons make me smile, just like the one today. I glance at your perfect hair again, and think back to the Korean upperclassman from before. Noah. His unique tendencies and his radiant smile. The way he laughed, the words he spoke. I chased him like I chased the wind. But he left, and I fell back into routine. Until I met you, on the breezy day when the cherry blossoms floated about and the air was still cold. Melodious chimes, and a sky to remember for eternity. The girl next to me pushes up her glasses again and makes a joke. Her boyfriend responds with his casual tone and the boy with the cargo pants switches his gaze. Suddenly, you’re looking at me. But I look away, and pretend I don’t see your smile. The truth comes like knives in my fragile heart. That smile isn’t for me. The mysterious boy with messy black hair and a contagious smile. With one swift motion, your music playing in my ears. Loud. Dark. Deep. But surprisingly. A nice change of pace. Kind laugh and a simple smile. You start talking, and I listen quietly. But soon, it’s all quiet again under the stars. The boy with the cargo pants strolls up to you. Conversation flows like water between the two of you. Words. I like you. Stuck like a knife in the back of my throat, I want to say it, but I can’t. A flash blinds me. It’s your black camera, and you, smiling behind it. I think about him again when I see your bright smile. Am I even allowed to ask you? Stop over-worrying and enjoy the moment. You tousle my uneven bangs and say you like the art I created. Broken pieces put together. I’m puzzled at your antics. Mixed signals. Disinterest but then interest. Would you like me?
Firsts By Yellow Seesaw Her head laid in the center of her soft yet firm stomach. She felt her lover’s hands gently float their way through her hair, soft music being played through her phone. Not loud enough to make out the words, but just the right level to hear the sweet melodies. The birds chirped outside on the trees that surround her love’s house. The light streaming in through the curtains. It was peaceful. There were no words needed for the space to be filled between them. It was their own world, something not shared with anyone else. The sweet hugs, the warm cuddles. It was so sweet and pure yet not accepted by all. They were young and foolish, couldn’t be themselves. Played their relationship off as best friends and fooled everyone. Even themselves at times. In that moment, her love looking at her phone, scrolling and never stopping, and she herself drifting in and out of sleep, they realized how important they were to each other. Soft and innocent words slowly filled the silence as they cuddled together. There was a knock at the door, her mother. Quickly scrambling to untangle themselves from each other they end up on two different sides of the bed. “Good morning girls. How’d you sleep?” A shy smile appeared on her lover’s face. “Great, mom! What’s for breakfast?” she replied with a growl coming from her stomach. Her mom pointed further down the hall towards the kitchen, “There should be some pancakes for you girls, but you gotta hurry before they are all gone.” They jumped up, hoping to grab some pancakes and not to have them eaten by her younger siblings. Only to find the kitchen empty and back in their special space together. Their eyes trailed on one another. She tried to walk across the room to steal a hug from her everything but ended up slipping. Her love catching her but not before their lips met accidentally. Her first kiss stolen by the first person she loved. How perfectly fitting.
13
Posters On The Wall Part 3: Forgotten
By The Midnight Raven
The thing about forgotten memories is that you can never get them back. Or at least, you can’t get them back to the way they were before. You can retell a lost story over and over again but it will never be anything more than that. Those unremembered memories stay in a haze of reality that feels more like your reading a book from a first-person perspective rather than actually something that you once experienced. You can try and try to remember that experience but nothing will ever change that buried feeling in your mind that it was never real. That it will never be real to you. Addelyn: I left and I didn’t look back. The scent of the dusty cafe following me as I grabbed my bag and slipped away from him. His words were nonsense, I didn’t want to hear them any longer. He called after me and my ears stung with the sound of his voice carrying my name. I turned back to look at him through the glass of the window and saw him run his fingers through his hazel hair before turning away from where I had been. His green eyes glued to the poster that still lay on the table. The hours of work I had forgotten in the rush to leave. I should go back and get it, but I didn’t. I kept walking, my flats drumming against the sidewalk, my hand grasped tightly against the strap of my bag, all the while anxiety loomed over my head that he would chase after me. But he never did. I vowed to myself that I would forget him, but his words flitted around in my mind. Some things could be forgotten easily but others couldn’t. They stay in your mind, tracing your thoughts in quiet moments, never truly forgotten. Elias: Elias allowed her to leave because it was easier than fighting for her to stay. That would only push her farther from him and farther from the truth. He had taken the wrong approach and he knew he had, but it felt like the only way for him to be heard was through bluntness and getting straight to the point, allowing no time for contradiction. But now, he had nothing to say, no one to hear him and the only thing that remained was the swirling silence that filled his head. He looked down a final time at the poster with brightly colored words before picking it up slowly. He meandered his way towards the doorway to the cafe and with a flick of his wrist, Elias tossed the poster into the small, metal trash can by the door. It felt wrong to do that to someone’s work but in this situation, he was merely destroying lies. Elias wouldn’t give up. Not on Addelyn and not on 14
dispelling lies about what the wall truly was. What the workers’ true goal was. He repeated 4 words over and over again in his mind. “I won’t give up. I won’t give up. I won’t give up.” If he said it enough, maybe he would begin to believe it. He was never going back to the wall, he wouldn’t cascade back into the cycle of self-hatred that he had put himself through when he sat in front of a monitor all day. He would stay here and find a way to change things, reveal the wall for what it truly was. Maybe he would finally make a difference that mattered. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t give up. It was on the news in a special report that interrupted whatever reality show had been on previously. It was scripted on newspapers with smudged ink from the drizzling rain. It was whispered from ear to ear in frantic distress. Stone by stone, the wall was coming down.
“Snoozing,” Illustration by Wine Merchant
Snow Days
By Tom Nguyen Snow Days give me life I don’t have to go to school So I hibernate
Until Spring
By The Calico Cat That time of the year Bundle up in your warm bed Sleep the days away
The Building on 66th Street Part Four
that is hanging off the side of his desk.
Derek BAM! BAM! He has his gun fixed on the guy behind him. He is panting, out of breath, his stamina going down, his vision turning red. He fires again, but it just clicks. Out of ammo.
What the hell man, that was totally hacks. I’m going to report you. You listening?
By Andromeda
He switches to his sniper. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all he has. He fires behind him. Out too. In a panic, he reaches for his switchblade. The soldier behind him is catching up, his army uniform covered in blood and dirt. He holds up his gun to shoot the final, deadly bullet that would end his opponent’s life. The man dodges suddenly with what is left of his stamina. The soldier, unable to reload quickly enough, is tackled to the ground by his charging opponent, and then the man slits his throat. VICTORY! The young man’s bloodshot eyes fixate on the blinding light of the word that has lit up the screen. “Yes!”
Ding! A message pops up in the chat bubble.
He smirks and types back, grease and potato chip crumbs smearing his keyboard. No hacks, just skill noob. Just try to report me. There’s a pause, and then ding. Screw you! That was total B.S. Just you wait man, I have a gamer score of 1650, I’ll mess you up. He laughs and reaches for another potato chip. Try me. Bzzzz. Bzzz. His phone goes off next to him. He frowns and picks it up. “Hello?” “Derek, it’s your mother. Your father was in an accident.”
Derek stands in front of the door to his family home nervously. He holds up his hand to knock, but hesiHe pushes them up with his wrist. The light from his tates, and slowly puts his computer screen casts a blue hand down. It’s night out now and the glow from the glow across his face, and door light is intimidating, barely illuminates his dark as it seems to beam down bedroom. He scratches his on him like a spotlight. His patchy beard and reaches for the large potato chip bag father’s funeral had been He shouts, his glasses falling down his nose.
today, but he had missed it, purposefully catching the last flight out of town so he’d be late. He figured his father wouldn’t have wanted him there anyways, and his mother had told him specifically not to come home until the funeral was over. However, he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty about it for his sister’s sake. Come on, you can do this. With a deep breath he opens the door with his spare key and enters into the foyer, his feet echoing on the marble floor. The room is dark, but the moonlight from the windows sparkles on the chandelier. “Hello?” he calls. Getting no response, he walks in slowly and makes his way up the staircase. “Anyone here? Mother?” THUD! He quickly makes his way over to the sound. “Mo-” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in gaping horror as he watches his sister drag his mother’s still body across the floor to the door to the bathroom. Her green eyes catch his in shock when she sees him in the hallway. “This is not what it looks like.” He hurriedly backs away till he hits a wall. He slides down and there is a ringing in his ears. What’s happening? What’s happening? What’s happen-
ing? He begins to rock back and forth on the floor, hunched over and sweaty. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my-” “Hey!” His eyes dart up to his sister standing over him, her foot tapping, hands folded across her chest. “Calm down, let’s talk about this.” “T-talk about this? Our mother is… And you’reyou’re…” “DEREK.” She shouts. When she sees him flinch, she sighs and softens her voice. “Listen…” Ariana proceeds to explain that Mother had been opening gifts when Ariana had last seen her, and one of them had been a pearl necklace. It was too small, but she had insisted she could wear it. Ariana walked to her room to go to bed, but she heard a sudden noise. She rushed to mother’s room but when she got there, Mother was on the floor, the necklace against her throat, strangled. She must have tried to put it on anyways, and accidentally killed herself. “But why were you dragging her to the bathroom? You should have called the police.” Ariana flinches. “I didn’t know what to do, Continued on Next Page
15
okay!? She was just laying there and I--” She sighs, and her shoulders slump down as if suddenly the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders. He had been too stunned to notice it earlier, but her normally beautiful face is thin and sunken, her once long hair cut choppily close to her ears, and there are thick, dark circles hanging beneath her eyes. She slides down on the wall next to him. “This is such a mess.” She whispers, and she seems smaller than he thought he had ever seen her, like she is actually his little sister and not just the family’s golden child. The girl who cast such a large shadow in her wake, there was no hope of him ever catching up to her. Now she is just a teenager who had been overwhelmed with too much tragedy in her young life. He has to take responsibility somehow, even if he doesn’t know how, because he is the adult. “We have to call the cops,” he says and straightens his back, standing up. She looks up at him and smiles, relief relaxing her whole body. She gets up and hugs him, one of her hands behind his head. “Okay, let’s do that.” Derek sends Ariana downstairs to the kitchen to get a cup of water. He stays behind, his left hand clenched tightly around his phone. He stares down at the body 16
laying haphazardly against the floor. Her limbs are in an awkward heap, her gown bunched up near her waist. The bruises on her neck are barely visible beneath her piles of dark hair. He begins to shake and sweat, a loud ringing sound in his ears, realizing he is all alone up here with his mother’s body. He puts the phone up to his ear, 911 already dialed. “911, what’s your emergency?” His mouth opens but no words come out as he continues to stare at his mother, her face pressed against the floor. Glassy eyes peering off into space, as if watching something he can’t see. “Hello? 911, what’s your emergency?”
He shakes harder until his whole body is trembling, and his breath is coming out in strong, heavy gasps. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. “Hello? Are you okay? Hello?” Suddenly one of her dead eyes darts up to meet his. He knows what she’s trying to say. Run.
There’s a pang in his heart, and he tries to run faster. I have to get away. I have to get away. I have to get away. He gets so far away the house is sitting on the hill behind him, as if staring down at him accusingly. He feels tears well in his eyes. I can’t do this, I’m sorry.
Suddenly there’s a sharp pain in his back. He lets Derek runs out the back out a cry and topples to the door of his house. His ground, blood spurting out lungs heaving out labored of his mouth when he cries breaths, he’s already worked out. With a huge amount up a large sweat, and his of effort he turns his head flabby legs burn, unused back and sees a soldier to the heavy exertion. He in a dirty army uniform takes his hand and swipes crouched in the bushes, a his wet, greasy hair out of gun in his hands, a smile his face. He looks back in on his face. the distance and sees his “I told you I’d mess you sister peering at him from up, didn’t I?” behind the upstairs window. To Be Concluded...
“Zero 2,” Illustration by HEHEHEH I AM A SUPAH STAR WARRIAH