January
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents
Cover: “Cold Sneer,” an illustration by Hypnos “Undertale,” a poem by Janus 13: This Page: “Light the Way,” a photograph by The Page “Let’s Get Creative,” an illustration by Persephone Owlish Bookworm
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Ask Aphro & Dite
Big Foot want to befriend a Yeti How to keep New Year’s Resolutions
The Goddess of Darkness Muses about Disney
Horoscopes for the Cold Weather
Nyx’s Niche
Cassandra’s Oracle
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“Creativity is Key,” a poem by The Owlish Bookworm
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“An Icy Beginning,” a short story by Persephone “Frost Laden Fir,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Hoth Fashion,” an illustration by Khokokat “Our Cold Home,” a poem by Cananda
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“Golden Shores: Chapter Four,” a story by A.T. Pacem
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“Golden Shores,” continued “The Island of Ceramika,” a short story by The Teumessian “Fire,” a photograph by Technicolor Zebra Fox “Castle on a Cloud,” photograph by Nyx
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“A Collection of Regrets,” a poem by Winter “Abu,” a photograph by Aceso “Rafiki,” a photograph by Aceso “King Louie,” a photograph by Aceso “Terk,” a photograph by Aceso
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“Regret,” a poem by Janus “Friction,” an illustration by The Masked Lady and Calliope “Royal Regret,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
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“For All Eternity,” an illustration by Persephone “A Sun Called Luna,” a short story by Hypnos
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“Hocus Pocus Chapter 2,” a comic by The Masked Lady and Pandora “Orbital Bath Time,” an illustration by The Masked Lady “The Magnificent Derivative,” a poem by Vivian Griselda
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“Winged Shadows Chapter 1,” a story by Bluejay
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“New Year’s Resolutions,” a short story by Hypnos “The Hunger Wars,” an illustration by Shadow Hunter “Of the Mountain,” an illustration by Hypnos
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“Sum of Parts Unknown,” a poem by Bandersnatch “Shattering,” an illustration by The Masked Lady “The Dalek,” an illustration by Technicolor Zebra “The Broken Robot,” a poem by Aradia
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“Undine,” a poem by Janus “Hey Punk!” an illustration by Persephone “It’s Mettaton,” an illustration by Persephone
issuu.com/midnightwriters midnightwriters2016@gmail.com
Ask Aphro & Dite
Nyx’s Niche
Dear Aphro, I am trying to make friends with the Abominable Snowman, how do you find a Yeti in a snowstorm and win his friendship? Longing Not to Be Lonely, Big Foot Dear Lonely Big Foot, With the past Snowmageddon, I imagined we’d hear a question like this. Big Feet and Yeti’s are notoriously friendly if they can find each other. Yeti’s live in the coldest, snowiest parts of the world. Some are employed at the north pole making toys, but some prefer to live on their own. Go to the poles and seek out a blizzard. This is when they most like to roam and go out. If you see two black dots floating in the ir, you have seen one, or at least the eyes. After that, it is simple introducing yourself. Making a good first impression is always important to Abominable Snowmen, but Big Feet are notorious for following the rules of etiquette, so I don’t think that will be a problem. I’m sure if you follow this advice, you will become fast friends. Eventually, you will have to return home, but mailing letters to Santa, of sending messages with the tooth fairy can keep the two of you in constant communication. Maybe next time, he can visit you? I hope you find your new friend.( or maybe more with a little help from me?) Have fun! Lots of Love, Aphro Dear Dite I can never keep my New Years Resolutions, any tips? Resigned, New Year but Same Me. Dear New Year, Same Me, Oh honey. Let me promise you now, you are not the only person who struggles with this. I mean, I don’t, but I guess it’s because I have nothing to perfect. But for you mortals, keeping resolutions tends to be a struggle. Well, if it’s about romance, give me a ring and I’ll help you out. For other issues, I have a few tips. If your problem is about remembering, write it somewhere you will remember. A mirror is a good place.Writing it on your face is good for remembering as well. If the problem is motivation, a good pump up playlist is great. Just get grooving as you work. Another thing that helps is telling someone your goal. Make sure it’s someone who you like and trust. This person can watch out for you and remind you to follow through with your resolution. I am sorry if it doesn’t help, seeing as I have no issues to ever need fixing. Still, I wish you the best of luck. Lots of Love, Dite
Hello, my lovelies! Ah, look at that! I can truly say it’s been a year since I’ve last seen you all, but I have a sneaking suspicion my sons will have words with me for making such corny jokes. Hmph. Too bad, boys! I think I’m hysterical, and since I’m quite powerful, others agree. And since those lazy sods didn’t help with the shoveling at all, they don’t get a say. I mean, can you believe it? Mt. Olympus, home of the gods, and there’s still snow blocking my driveway three days after Khione and Boreas’ squabble. When the god of Winter and his daughter begin to quarrel, everyone in the heavens, and apparently the earth, knows about it. But onto greater things. Like this new mortal phenomenon that I have come across, known to them as The Disney. It is most curious! Mortals claim The Disney has great powers, and have dedicated multiple temples to it. They chant and sing rhythms of The Disney even in their daily mortal life! I have yet to hear of a god called Disney, and mind you, I’ve been around for quite a while. So I’m not sure whether I should be concerned that a mortal is playing at being a god, or there is a new god who is currently unknown, or, blessed Mother Gaia, there is indeed a mortal with such genius and skill that he has managed to rally the love and support of the entire mortal world! I myself am more fascinated than anything. Occasionally, I find myself drawn to The Disney Temples, which have names like Disney World and Disney Land. Mortals are so interesting. There, the temples have hundreds of thousands of visitors who stand in line to take part in rituals like screaming in a mountain of space and punishing themselves for their sins by sitting in broken elevators. What’s even more fascinating are the attending handmaidens and pages, who dress quite differently. Devoted visitors will wait in lines to speak with them, I presume about the supposed magic and powers of Disney. Really, I feel like mortals are becoming more and more amazing with the things they create. I know that my sons will protest, but perhaps I will take them to these Disney temples. We shall disguise ourselves as mortals and explore this magic. Perhaps you Midnighters know anything about these places or The Disney? Do be a dear and tell me if you do, though good luck making it past the heap of ice Thanatos has yet to chip away at!
Cassandra’s Oracle Happy New Year, Midnighters! Since the temperatures are dropping and the snow is falling (finally!), I thought I’d give you all some recommendations for books and tea to curl up with! Aries: Try something adventurous, like Divergent by Veronica Roth and orange spice tea. Taurus: You’ll love Delirium by Lauren Oliver with a mug of white tea. Gemini: Looking for wit and humor? Try Six of Crow by Leigh Bardugo and peach tea. Cancer: If you’re looking for something that’ll hit you in the feels, try Extraordinary Means by Robin Schneider, with some green tea to calm you afterwards. Leo: Turn up the drama this month with The Selection by Keira Cass and an oolong-orange blend. Virgo: Want some no-nonsense powerful protagonists? Try Walk on Earth a Stranger by Rae Carson with lemon and chamomile tea. Libra: You’re in it for the journey, so you’ll love Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway and a mug of strawberry black tea. Scorpio: Itching for a mystery? Try An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir and vanilla black tea. Sagittarius: You’re all about confidence and learning to know yourself, so you’ll like Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli and some earl grey. Capricorn: For characters just as driven as you are, try Seventh Son by Joseph Delaney with a vanilla white blend. Aquarius: Looking for something progressive and powerful? You’ll like The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth and hazelnut black tea. Pisces: Want a new fantasy world? Try Splintered by A.G. Howard and some orangegrapefruit black tea.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Teumessian Fox, The Owlish Bookworm, Bandersnatch, Hypnos, Persephone, Khokokat, Janus 3
The Island of Ceramika By The Teumessian Fox
“I am so happy we finally escaped the Underworld!” Perimedes exclaimed. In the distance was an intriguing island with towering, chiseled mountains. The peaks were sculpted as if they were built by someone. Some mountains were dove gray, sage, clouded obsidian, and oyster silver, others a drab ochre color, almost as if the mud hadn’t completely set. When a child arrives at a candy store, excitement fills their whole body. Just so, the men were eager to see what this island had in store for them. They rowed their boat till it hit the shore of this new place. As soon as it landed, they jumped off and ran eagerly towards the unknown in hopes of finding food, like that eager child searching for candy. The ground squished under their feet, leaving footprints behind them in the perfectly smooth terrain. However, as soon as every foot had marred the smooth perfection of the heretofore untouched ground, some unknown force caused the men to instantly feel hot and flush with color. “I HAVE BEEN WORKING HARD ON THAT LANDSCAPE FOR OVER A CENTURY NOW! I JUST GOT IT PERFECT! WHAT YOU AND YOUR MEN DONE TO MY ISLAND OF CERAMIKA IS UNACCEPTABLE! I AM THE MIGHTY RODDIKUS AND YOU WILL PAY!” a voice that boomed like thunder shouted from behind one of the dark, obsidian colored mountains. While the men quivered in fear, an unknown man scampered out from around the cliff. A man with a medium build, with short havana brown hair and amber eyes that glistened in the sunlight. “Who is he? What is he doing here?” one of Odysseus’ men inquired. As soon as the question left the boatman’s lips, the men heard a sharp whistle and the boatman disappeared in flames. The men cowered as they realized the whistler emerging from the rocks was no ordinary man; he was the powerful sorcerer, Roddikus. “You have offended me and all my hard work,” and with the flick of Roddikus’ wrist, Odysseus’ boat shattered into a million pieces. “Now, in order to get off my island, you and your men will build the perfect boat. Only when it lives up to my expectations will I enchant it so you can be on your way and never come back!” “How?” Odysseus proclaimed. “We have sailed many torturous seas but have never crafted a ship!” “That is not my problem, now is it?” Roddikus boomed. He turned away and disappeared into the mountains. “We can do it men! We will build the greatest ship man ever laid eyes on. We just need a few things.” the man, Eurylokhos, encouraged. At that moment, Odysseus remembered that before the war this man had been the son of a sculptor, and a great one at that. “You,” Eurylokhos pointed, “Pick up all the tools, such as branches, rocks, knives,
and sponges you can find, and you, gather up a bunch of clay. We are going to need a lot.” he ordered. The men quickly followed suit and gathered up all the materials they could find. Which wasn’t that difficult, the fettling knives grew on trees and the sponges grew on the bushes. They all worked non stop for the rest of the day, listening to Eurylokhos’ every word. Building their new boat as big and as quickly as they could. They were determined to make it perfect. The mast towered as high as the ebony mountain Roddikus emerged from and the stern as long as two of their old, stoudt ships combined. The cabins were massive, fit for a true warrior. Eurylokhos’ intellect may have just saved all their lives. In the morning, the men awoke with the boom of Roddikus’ voice, “Very nice, I am impressed, but now, we have to see if you built it correctly.” Roddikus started whistling and the boat rose up off the ground, with a man still sitting inside, and floated into a nearby cave. “We will see if it can withstand the heat of the vigorous Cave Kilnerus!” The men heard a roar of fire, and a scream of immense pain when they watched their creation explode. “Air bubbles, a deadly mistake,” Roddikus chuckled. “Try not to disappoint me this time? You have to wedge the clay, you foolish cretins!” and he flew off to the dark mountains. So the men tried again, wedging all their clay, pushing it with all their weight. They were determined to get off this despicable island. They worked all day, very insistent to finish. In the dead of the night, they finally finished. “Let’s not give him the chance to ruin it again. Here, help me push it into the water.” a man whispered to the others. They all pushed the boat into the water and instantly realized their mistake. Since the clay was never fired, it mushed together, and sank into the ocean, ruining what they had worked so hard on, for a second time in just one day. Just then Roddikus appeared, ready to mock their mistake. “Foolish, foolish little men. Trying to get away without approval of the shrewd, crafty one, Hephaestus, and Athena in their mighty Cave Kilnerus? You can’t ever escape their divine power! Now, build it again, and don’t try any shortcuts this time!” and then he was gone, leaving the men with even more work. For the rest of the day under the scorching sun the men continued to work, sweating through their clothes, but determined to finish and get away from this dreadful island. They worked and worked for hours on end. The boat they built wasn’t as mighty as their first, but they did their best under the circumstances. The mast wasn’t as tall, the cabins only big enough to sleep, but it was all they could do under the boiling sun. They had been on the island for nearly a week, and lost two men, this new boat had to work. When finally finished, they all fell fast asleep. They awoke again to Roddikus hovering over their creation, raising his fingers to his
mouth to whistle once again. “No! Stop! Don’t destroy it please! We have worked so hard, what else can you ask of us? Just let us go home! Please!” Perimedes pleaded. “I’m growing tired of your stay here anyway, but we still have to let the gods decide (reverence to gods),” Roddikus responded. So he brought his fingers to his lips and commanded the boat to Cave Kilnerus with his sharp whistle. Flames roared within the kiln while the men were shaking nervously, hoping their boat lived up to the standards of the gods. Roddikus whistled again and emerging from the cave came their creation intact and amazing, it was truly fit for a god. Roddikus worked his sorcery and laid the boat in the water, and to the men's surprise, it floated. At long last, they had the ability to leave the Island of Ceramika behind them. “Hooray!” the men cheered as they ran to the boat. Finally, the men were on their way back to Circe, to tell her of the tales of the Underworld and leave this island behind them forever.
“Castle on a Cloud,” photograph by Nyz
A Collection of Regrets By Winter Sometimes I wonder, Why even after these years, I still think of you.
“Abu,” photograph by Aceso
These days I ponder, If I had said that one word, Would you still be here?
“Rafiki,” photograph by Aceso
To try and forget, I have kept myself busy, Without thoughts of you.
“King Louie,” photograph by Aceso
Today I realize, That my light bulb has dimmed, Without you to shine.
“Terk,” photograph by Aceso
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Regret By Janus
A kingdom loved, a kingdom lost Freedom won, but at what cost? The price: a broken spear, a shattered shield the sword only one can wield Her pool of tears, his drop of blood the final battle, the waning flood. They were lovers, they were foes She bared her teeth, he raised past woes. Her armor gleamed, her halo flared Under her smirk, she was scared Damned below or chained above Was dissent worth more than love? The fight waged on, it was time To be judged for her crime. He struck her down, yet held back She was weak, why not attack? She deserved the long vicious fall Yet he strained against Heaven’s call. One last blow, and she was gone A falling star, a helpless pawn. She plunged into eternal pain Her wings a charred black stain As she fell to hell’s core He rose to grand lore. A kingdom loved, a kingdom lost Freedom won, and love the cost. “Friction,” an illustration by The Masked Lady and Calliope
“Royal Regret,” photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
“For All Eternity,” illustration by Persephone
ryone loved her. She helped bring life to the planets and keep them in line and she lived happily ever after. Well, that would have been nice wouldn’t it have been. No instead, By Hypnos Sol, “because he’s a bright young man with a lot of potential even if Sky Headquarters: Providing Security and Gravitational Pull since he’s as dumb as bricks compared to Luna” (She assumes that’s how 2988990 AD. They are a Universe wide corporation, and everyone the corporation has phrased it), had gotten the position. Luna on the other hand, was given a moon position over the planet names Earth. knows they pay good salaries and have an amazing dental plan. They had recently opened up a new branch in the Milky Way Juris- I mean, sure she considered capable enough that she was the only diction, and were looking to hire. The nine planet positions had al- moon designated, but still. She knew she was more qualified. She had gone to school for way longer then he had, and had gotten two ready been filled, as well as several moon positions. At 7.30, 2988986 AD, Luna Oceana walked into headquarters with degrees instead of one. Ok, she may have stalked his Facebook a one objective in mind, to be a sun. Suns were the head honcho’s of little bit. The point was, that the job should have gone to her, no matter how many Instagram followers he had. every division, and it wasn’t every day that a position opened up. Suns were supposed to be bright, charismatic, organized, energized, Luna settled into her new job easily. after all, she was only superand preferably, smoking hot. Luna was lacking in a few of those departments. No one ever called her hot In fact, she was very grey vising one little planet. It wasn’t even a gas giant. She watched as plants grew, and animals emerged, and oceans rose and fell and faced, with huge craters on her face. She wasn’t always the most energized, or the strongest of beings either. Still, ever since she was Dinosaurs died, and humans rose and then made movies about how the dinosaurs had died. She accomplished it all by herself in her one little, she had wanted to be a Sun. She worked hard to be brighter little planet. No one else in her division could even come close to and charismatic. She may not be the most energizing person but gosh darn it, that was what energy drinks were for. If there was any- the accomplishments Luna had achieved. And yet, despite having articles written about her, despite being one thing that described Luna, it was ambition. Luna sat in the large waiting room with a wide variety of other ap- of the most heavily featured moons in all the tabloids, she never got plicants. There was a gassy man sitting in a plush chair, who every- promoted. She’d watch from afar as Sol kept all the planets aligned one avoided. There was a very thin woman with a cold expression and in balance. She’d laughed when an asteroid got loose and sitting to her left, and a friendly little man who had introduced him- crashed into her planet, killing her dinosaurs. She’d hoped that he’d self as Europa. Luna waited patiently for her interview time, but felt get fired, but corporate had just given him a slap on the wrist and sent him back to work. confident in her chances. It wasn’t fair that she worked twice as hard, was twice as qualified, Then the room burst open, and a very large man burst in. He was and got half the reward. She would not have it. She waited. She very broad, and tall. He had long blond hair, and a swagger in his watched. Any misstep, any problem, no matter how small, she’d be step. He oozed confidence and charisma from his very pores. He plopped down in the seat to Luna’s right, both arms taking the arm their. One day, it wouldn’t be Sol getting all the credit, it’d be Luna. The Sun called Luna. rests and his legs spread wide like he didn’t have a care in the world. Luna instantly hated him. He winked at her when he saw her glaring at him, and stuck out his large hand. “The names Sol, sweetheart.”, he said with a wink as she took his hand and shook. Luna just frowned at him and turned back to face front again. She was then called into the office for her interview. That interaction was the last she saw of Sol. The department loved her and her 7 personality, and immediately offered position as the Sun, and eve-
A Sun called Luna
The Magnificent Derivative By Vivian Griselda
“Orbital Bath Time,” illustration by The Masked Lady
The instantaneous rate of change A concept that seems so irrelevant and strange But what you don’t know Is that it’s everywhere you go Like the speed at which Your population will grow The yeast that rises in your bread Without a concavity decreasing down Your baked goods would rise Above your head! The racing blood down a slide after you intake your morning cup Saves your hyper levels From going to extremes It keeps you from spending until you’re broke Just like it kept caffeine From causing your stroke Hot food you devour from the big pot Derivatives keep you from eating a whole lot When you take your guitar From room to another And that string is out of tune like no other It’s the instantaneous rate of change Going down That keeps the pitch not too far From it’s original sound When the race begins And you’re running so fast The velocity decreasing proves That it was never meant to last Without the marginal cost in business, We would never know If the profit was worth it! Why, derivatives are everywhere you see, They are hidden in all of the things That help us be.
Winged Shadows By: Bluejay
The wind whispered softly against the smooth sandstone lining the hollow and curled the leaves of the fallen oak trees. It seeped through cracks in the stone den, blowing through Mira’s folded wings. She shivered, tucking her tail in further and burying her muzzle in between her arms. Summer was coming to an end; she could taste it in the air. Mira closed her eyes tighter as she winced against the coldness seeping from her nest of leaves and down feathers. After a few more minutes she gave up, shakily rising to her feet. She stretched out her wings and shook herself in an attempt to rid her body of the cold. The pads of her feet had grown numb from her long slumber. Flora and Kane were still deeply asleep, Flora’s tail twitching as if she were in the middle of a vivid dream. She didn’t want to wake her siblings and instead decided to stretch her legs outside. As Mira padded outside, she was instantly surrounded by a frantic buzz of conversation. Several dragons were in tears, crying out to anyone who would listen. Others looked confused and sat around murmuring to each other. The one thing Mira noticed instantly was a raging black inferno lapping at the top of the hill overlooking their camp. It seemed to be fading, releasing gray smoke into the clear sky as it shrunk into the earth. “What’s happening?” Mira called out, but she received no response. She looked over at the leader’s den, noticing the delicate branches covering the entrance had been broken, as if Luna had been in a frantic struggle to run inside. Mira knew better than to go in herself, but she couldn’t help shaking the uneasy feeling spreading through her spine. She padded slowly through the clearing while cringing as her claws snagged on the crisp grass. The atmosphere was thick with fear; humid and damp. “Ivy, what’s going on?” Mira whimpered as she approached the emerald tinted dragon sitting in solitude near a large boulder. Her head was drooped and her fluorescent green horns sparkled in the morning sun. “It’s Cyrus,” she whispered softly after a few moments of silence. Mira sat down next to her, folding her wings around her body. “What do you mean?” She questioned, trying to detect any glint of emotion in her friend’s eyes. Ivy’s head remained bowed and her eyes focused on a moth that had landed in a patch of grass beneath her claws. It crawled over the blades of grass, its own weight pulling it down as it struggled to stand upright.
“Ivy?” Mira urged, lightly shoving the young dragon on the shoulder. She breathed heavily as her entire body seized up in shock. Trembling, Ivy spoke for the first time. “He’s dead. Cyrus is dead. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t do anything but stand there as death took over him. He’s gone because of me. My responsibility in this clan is to heal others, and I did just the opposite. This is all my fault.” Ivy had begun to hyperventilate and her voice shook with each syllable. “What? How could he be dead? He can’t be dead. Cyrus is our strongest warrior, what could possibly kill him? This doesn’t make sense…” Mira demanded, standing up in agitation and flicking her tail. She was cut off by the sound of Luna’s voice. “Everyone, gather by the edge of the hill. I have important news,” she called out, stretching her wings in the sunlight as she stood alone on a large rock at the base of the cliff. Her voice trembled, but she was determined not to let it show. Mira could detect the faint shimmer of tears drying below her eyes but she remained silent. The fire behind her had faded away, leaving behind a trail of black smoke. Mira padded towards her leader, joined by other curious dragons. She looked over her shoulder to see Flora and Kane creep out of their shared den, blinking against the harsh sunlight. She looked back down at her claws as the two settled next to her. “What’s going on?” Flora whispered. She shifted uneasily next to Mira as she spoke. “Cyrus is dead,” Mira told her flatly, her gaze never straying from the ground below her. “What? How?” Flora cried, but Kane shushed her immediately. He stared ahead in a cold silence, his tail flicking against the earth. “Attention everyone. I know there are rumors circulating the clan that Cyrus has been killed,” Luna spoke, her voice faltering slightly as she said the name of her deceased mate. “I am here to confirm that these rumors are true. Cyrus is dead. However, he died of poisoning, most likely from the toxic river a few miles from our camp.” “What about the black crystals on his back?” One dragon murmured from the crowd and Luna immediately tensed. Her eyes narrowed as she made eye contact with the elderly dragon who had spoken. “There is nothing to worry about. It was river poisoning; I know most of you are familiar with this. There will be a ceremony to honor this brave warrior at sunset. I expect you all to attend. That is all.” With a final bow, Luna leaped from atop the smoothed stone and made her way back towards her den. The remaining dragons whispered amongst themselves as they dispersed. Mira shivered as she reflected on Luna’s speech. She had been lying, Mira was sure of that. It was always easy
to tell when someone’s voice was laced with lies. “Is that really what happened?” Flora turned to her as soon as the three were alone in the clearing. “I don’t think she is telling us the whole truth, I know that was not why he died. There is something else, something Luna is hiding from us,” Mira responded. “There is nothing she is hiding from us. You must learn to trust and obey your leader, or you’re going to live a miserable life, Mira,” Kane hissed, his eyes burning with the intensity of fire. Mira fell silent, refusing to meet his eyes. Kane gave a final sigh before angrily storming towards the small river trickling through the camp to meet with his friends. Flora grimaced, shuffling her claws uneasily. She always disliked conflict, especially hating when Kane lashed out at them. He was short-tempered and arrogant, the complete opposite of Flora. “I’m going to go for a walk outside the camp, I’ll see you later, Mira,” Flora stated quietly before wandering towards the slope leading away from the clearing and into the meadow surrounding them. Mira kept her eyes on Flora for a brief moment before turning her focus on the den across the clearing. A white dragon slowly made his way out of the thick tangle of brambles lining the sandstone hollow. He grimaced as a lonesome branch scratched his flank but shook it off. His narrow, light gray shoulders flexed as he moved towards the pond. He briefly made eye contact with Mira but immediately looked away and quickened his pace. Mira followed the strange figure with her eyes, standing up a little straighter. There was something amiss with him; even the way he moved signaled that he was uncomfortable simply being there. As hard as she tried, Mira could not recall his name. She had seen him around before, but he generally kept to the shadows of his den. Ironic that such a white and pure colored dragon preferred to stay in the shadows. Shaking the thought away, Mira turned and raced to catch up with her sister. Perhaps a nice walk was all she needed.
To be Continued...
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New Year’s resolutioNs By Hypnos It is very difficult being a father. I have had to watch my two twin children grow from afar. I am ambitious, and I am trying to build an empire. Unfortunately, my children are now officially rebelling against me. No really, they are leading the rebellion against my empire. My new year’s resolution is to really connect with my kids again, or at least Luke. Leah is a lost cause. I think it’d be a lot of fun to be a dad. ---Sincerely, Darth.
Ok. So the place I’m from has his big thing about Elements. Like our entire society is based on the fact that some people can manipulate the elements. I’m the leader of the best nation: the FIRE NATION. Recently, I’ve been trying to control a lot of the other societies. I’m not a bad guy, my abilities are just better and my nation has the best functioning system. I’m just spreading the goodness. Anyway, I think my new year's resolution is to defeat the water tribe up north. I like to pace myself. I was considering trying to reconcile with my estranged son Zuko but...naahh. He’s really whiney. It’s not like he’d ever betray me or anything so what’s the point? I’ll just stick to the conquering, thank you. ---Fire Lord Ozai
“The Hunger Wars,” illustration by Shadow Hunter
Not many people know this, but I’ve always been in love with this guy. I know, I know, I’m a married woman, but he’s just so... sexy. From his bald head to his toes (which are actually very tiny and tubby. He wears a robe to cover them.) I guess I’m really attracted to power too and that’s like, his thing. Anyway, my new year’s resolution is to stop being a chicken and make the dark lord my boyfriend. --Bellatrix Lestrange
I have always adored fashion. When I was a little girl, I would cut out all my favorite outfits from fashion magazines. I've always especially loved fur coats. In the coming year, I’ve decided to try to open up a fun new clothing line, maybe get some new material no one has ever tried before. I hope I succeed! --Sincerely, Cruella D.
Hello Darling. I’m a simple man with simple needs. Control hell? Check. Have minions? Check. Really, all I want now is some peace and quiet as the King of Demons. Simple right? WRONG! I have these bloody, denim covered NIGHTMARES following me around, either trying to kill me or begging for my help. Thing is, I had this thing going with the older one a few months back and the nostalgia keeps getting in my way. Otherwise they’d be dead right now, along with their pet angel. My New Year’s Resolution is to stop feeling. It’s annoying and interferes with all my hard work. If I could just stop having these feelings then it’d all be fine. --lots of love, Crowley
“Of the Mountain,” illustration by Hypnos
The Sum of Parts Unknown
By: Bandersnatch
hopeful I wish to walk among this godlike kind. Look up to them, admire, aspire To be such wonder and such endless mind That my own soul would glow as burning fire. Oh you and I, we could be greater than The sum of parts unknown, untested yet. To think, to dream, of some uncertain plan Their words of caution they shall be no threat. So join me, love, along this quest for strength And seek with me a life of hope and peace. For it is not too much to dream at length, To wish that wonders they will never cease. We are of fury born, of patience taught, And unafraid to question what they thought.
“Shattering,” illustration by The Masked Lady
The Broken Robot By Aradia
What great ache burns these brittle bones? I am the dusty robot, slowly falling to pieces Broken down, paint curling off my skin I could have been the sky Yet now I, caked with rust, Am nothing but loss Someone built me once With loving hands they turned me over Put me together Yet now I am lost to time Here I lay, clinging to faith I don't have The immortal testament am I To all that was loved and forgotten Read my words and know I lived Then forget my name and like light I am lost
“The Dalek,” illustration by Technicolor Zebra
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Undine By Janus Her siren call lures men to early graves At least her poor preys’ final breath was blessed She drags her victims under tumbling waves Their stolen souls she stows in a locked chest. Her scaly green tail whips the tepid sea More fish than girl, her gills she cannot hide So she hides truth with a melodic plea Her sweet song rises and ebbs with the tide. Her limbs adorned with scars from fishing rods Seaweed hair floats beneath her tarnished crown She descended from nymphs and vanquished gods Now, plastic bags and damp trash form her gown. Her clawed hands cling to the barnacled rock She begs someone to dive to her dim lair To leap from their sleek ship or rotting dock Embrace watery doom and forfeit air.
Undertale By Janus A nameless lost child You trek through the wild Friend or foe, it’s your choice But each monster has a voice Those you meet along the way Can bite or dance or play Puzzles clash with boss fights Among other moral plights. “Stay determined!” if you fail Enjoy the world of Undertale!
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Creativity is Key By The Owlish Bookworm Now’s the moment, No time to waste, Don’t look back, dear, Don’t hesitate! Be a bit insane, my dear, Be more than a bit absurd Question everything around you Make those questions heard Make others squirm With your eagerness to create With your ridiculous delight Your seized control of fate.
Use Twigs and Tulle Try Crayons and Brains A touch of Orange, a dash of Green Be liberal with Blood and Paint. Time to be creative, loves. Time to try something new Clock’s ticking towards nothing now, Seconds closer to you!
“Let’s Get Creative,” illustration by Persephone
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An Icy Beginning By Persephone The ice and snow swirling through the mountains left diamonds on her skin, leeching at her body heat. Her fingers lost feelings hours ago beneath her leather gloves. Through glassy eyes, she watches the world of white as her life fades away. Beams of light engulf the mountains, threatening to blind her. She squints and makes out someone in the middle of the light. A woman. A woman dressed in cream, contrasting against her warm brown skin. Her hair white as snow reaches her waist. She must be an angel, come to welcome the frozen girl to life and death. “I am the guardian of these mountains,” she says, her voice as rich as melted chocolate. When she reaches her hand out to the girl huddled in the cave, the girl takes it, her entire body shaking. The warmth of the guardian pours through her veins, her lungs, her very soul. “Would you like to join me?” the guardian asks. “Being a guardian is lonely business. But together we could watch over these mountains and protect them for the darkness of men.” The girl nods. There’s feeling in her fingers again and she has the energy to stand. Her body seems to radiate heat like the guardian’s. “Am I dead?” she asks. “In a sense,” the guardian says. “Yet, in another, you are more alive than ever.” The girl never regretted her decision to join the guardian. She too became a guardian, protecting the mountains with the woman who’d saved her life.
“Frost Laden Fir,” photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
Our Cold Home By Cananda I gaze at your blurry image through these frozen walls. You can't hear my apologies, each cry a flurry of ice. My once warm hands leave shallow prints on the door to your frosted room. You could melt these walls, but your fiery rage would burn my frostbitten heart. I might drown but at least the flood will wash away our crystal tears.
“Hoth Fashion,” illustration by Khokokat
Golden Shores Chapter IV By A.T. Pacem “It’s not a huge deal, everything is going to be absolutely fine, and you’re a good kid— right? Are you really? Oh God, you’re going to make them hate you so much what are you even doing here for your boyfriend— wait, that’s it. Your boyfriend. You’re doing this for him because you probably love him and it’s not that big a deal—right? Oh God you’re in love with him and you’re not even sure you’re at the right address to begin with you are literally—” Zahir had to squeeze his eyes shut and pinch his nose to shut up his internal monologue before he could muster up enough courage to knock on the door. He shifted his weight from foot-tofoot; the plastic of the flower bouquet was growing sticky with the sweat coming off his palms. He tried to get his breathing under control when the door opened, and he almost fell into Emmanuel’s arms when he saw him standing there. The situation would’ve ended very badly had it been his mother or his father. “You okay? You look like you’re about to pass out,” He asked, ushering in Zahir by the wrist before closing the wooden door behind them. Oh praise Allah, Emmanuel looked stunning and he wasn’t even trying that hard. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great! I brought some flowers, but get them in water because they might die real quick ‘cause it’s pretty hot out and—” “Zahir,” “—and I’d hate for them to get ruined especially in front of your parents because that can say a lot about me and being a guest—” “Zahir, please—” “—what if they hate me? Oh my God am I even allowed to be here this time of night? I don’t think this is going to be a good idea if—” There were lips on his own and his back pressed against the cool glass of the door. The flowers were squashed between them but the kiss was as chaste as it came. He sighed and relaxed, eyes opening to see a proud smirk across Emmanuel’s face. “You jerk,” Zahir accused lightly. “Well it worked, didn’t it?” “Sure,” “Hey,” Emmanuel gave a short breath with his grin. “Everything’s going to be okay, yeah? Relax,” His voice was soft and sweet against Zahir’s ears.
“Yeah okay, fine,” Zahir sighed and smiled gently, looking down at the flowers to fix the bent petals before he followed Emmanuel down the hall. “Wait, what about my shoes?” He paused, only to have Emmanuel refuse to stop and keep tugging him along. “My dad’s not back from work yet, so you’ll see him later. But for now,” they stopped in the middle of an open kitchen. It was adorned with multicolored tiles (Zahir suspected they were hand painted), brass pans hanging from the ceiling above an obsidian black stovetop, and smooth flecked granite countertops. Zahir thought back to the dirty white recycled glass countertop back home and swallowed. “I’d like you to meet my mother,” Zahir turns to face a woman shorter than he anticipated. The tops of her soft blonde hair barely reached his chin, but even from that far down her cobalt eyes struck a chord in him he didn’t want replayed. Her wrinkles pulled against her sharp jawline and high cheekbones, the corners of her mouth stitched downwards. So he smiled as genuinely as he could and offered his hand, bowing at his waist in the slightest to assure the woman’s higher status. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shafir,” his Hebrew trembled as he extended the flowers. He felt as if he was being critiqued about his life, his past, and his grades, literally anything he’d done in his life and it was unsettling. The frown stitches ripped open and suddenly Zahir was blinded by a too bright smile. He’d be beyond rude if he didn’t reciprocate the action, and so he did, passing on the flowers. “How did you know I liked poppy?” She asked, pinching his red and dimpled cheek affectionately before proceeding to grab a vase from a high cupboard. “The best mothers love all sorts of flowers,” he replied. He felt a tender squeeze of his right hand and brown eyes gracing over his neck. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t quite know what and instead squeezed back at the warm hand in his. Emmanuel’s mother gave a smile too warm for her snowy eyes but it befitted her, and Zahir found himself smiling back. “You’re too sweet, darling. Would you mind helping me set the table?” “No, of course not!” “You know Emmanuel; you could learn a thing or two from
your boyfriend. He actually helps around the home and doesn’t complain,” Zahir now knew where Emmanuel had gotten his passiveaggression and sarcasm from. “Wait till you hear what he does for a living, Eima. I won’t be surprised if he ends up moving in,” “We both know you wouldn’t necessarily mind if I moved in, Emmie,” Zahir teased as Mrs. Shafir handed him a stack of porcelain plates; he knew Emmanuel hated that nickname the second he came up with it months ago. Mrs. Shafir laughed and gave his shoulder a teasing slap. “And he’s funny! Emmanuel, darling, you never told me he had a sense of humor. My, my, we’re bound to have an enjoyable night. Thank you for joining us tonight, Zahir,” “I wouldn’t have had it any other way, ma’am,” “Oh my God, would you quit flirting with my boyfriend, Mom?” Zahir blushed and stepped towards Emmanuel, as he was near (what he assumed was) the dining room. Eyes followed him gracelessly and he threw a gentle smile over his shoulder before setting the dining table in the adjacent room. His hands trembled and he took a soft breath. Everything was fine, everything was going smoothly and comfortably and just fine. There was a hand over his as he set down the final plate. He recognized the fading scars over the knuckles because he had them blazed to memory. “You’re doing fine and I’m so proud of you,” a voice whispered against his ear, the hand on his running over his knuckles. The smile Zahir wore contended to wear off from his face as he turned to face Emmanuel. “Thank you for this,” he said, flipping his hand to take his partner’s before pressing a kiss to the scarred knuckles. “I should be the one thanking you for coming,” Emmanuel replied with an expression so solemn Zahir’s body stilled completely. “I know it’s hard, all of this, especially when you have to go against the one and only person who’s raised you all her life. And you— you see me with my mom and everything’s fine between us and I can’t help but think that puts something saddening in you,” Zahir licked his lips and said nothing for some time. Time ticked by like the moon pulling at the earth’s waves for the high
tide. “Nothing’s on my mind, Em. I’m having a great time right now, there’s nothing to worry about,” Zahir smiled, pulling at a gentle curl before tucking it behind Emmanuel’s ear. The blond frowned as Zahir nudged a kiss to his cheek and drew himself away. Mrs. Shafir thrust a bottle of wine into Zahir’s hands, which in turn almost dropped and the bottle opener that came with it. “Could you open this for me, dear?” there it was again, the sharp eyes and smile too unnatural to properly dear? I’m afraid my husband’s running late to dinner and he loves a fresh glass pair with it. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, swallowing a dry throat before finding Emmanuel to open the bottle for him. With all the shaking his hands have been doing he was certain he’d drop the bottle, given the chance. The front door opened just as the hearty “pop” of the bottle cork came off. Zahir’s heart popped along with it the second he saw who walked through the door. “So this is the boy my son’s been telling me all about. The soon-to-be lawyer, part-time artist and lover of life Zahir Nuri. I did tell him I’ve heard that name before. Didn’t know it was the same lowlife sitting in my interrogation room a few months ago who left with a free pass from his professor,” Zahir pursed his lips and stood steadfast in the dining room, shivering in the seventy five degree weather even with Emmanuel’s hands on his lower back. He shrugged them off. “It’s good to see you again, Inspector.” *** “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want you to know,” “But my dad’s the Chief Inspector of Jerusalem—” “You never told me anything about your parents so how could you’ve expected me to know? It was a dumb mistake and it never happened again,” “He said it happened three times in the two weeks before,” “You talked to him? How do you expect me to trust you about us now?” “Don’t give me that about trust when you were the one keeping things from me,” “Why does it even matter if I didn’t tell you was out past curfew at a few gay bars?” “Because I don’t know if anything you’ve said 15 to me in the past month
GS cont. past month of being together is true!” Zahir quieted and looked away, blowing out nicotine and tobacco out of his mouth like he’s done it a thousand times. Truth was he had, ages before he met Emmanuel. He tried not to think about it too much as he took a final breath and extinguished the tiny flicker of flame beneath his shoe. The wind rattled the branches of the bare trees, and a few stray leaves scuttled across the floor of the bricked backyard. It was too early for fall. He looked back towards Emmanuel and sighed, one hand on his hip and the other on the staircase railing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Emmanuel was the first to speak and Zahir commended him on his courage. He would’ve been too much of a coward to say anything else beyond a simple goodbye before making his way back home where he’d mourn the loss of one of the most meaningful things in his life. He liked the name of ‘coward’ for himself. “Because I…” Emmanuel looked at him with those too beautiful brown eyes and imploring turn of mouth and Zahir honest to God wanted to cry. Why hadn’t he told him? He bit his lip and swiped at his mouth. “Because I thought you’d think I was just some troublemaker with no real plans of seriously getting together with anyone. I liked you, and I was scared of losing you. I still am and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” He was out with it, but the weight on his chest only grew heavier with every second Emmanuel didn’t speak. The tears bit at the corner of his eyes and he willed himself to turn away. “I haven’t been honest with you, either,” was the only
soft reply that met his ears. His brain threw itself into a state of confusion and worry as he looked back. “What’re you— what’re you talking about?” He asked, biting away the nervous smile that crawled up to his lips as Emmanuel took his hands. Zahir could feel the callouses and scars in his palms and clasped them, afraid that if he’d let go he’d lose everything. “You see these scars?” he asked, motioning towards his knuckles. Zahir nodded. Emmanuel pulled up his shirt to reveal bruises, cuts, scrapes, all strange galaxies of purple and green and red along a universe of tan. Zahir let go to stroke over a bruise, then a scrape, apologizing immediately at the wince Emmanuel gave. “I don’t understand,” he confessed, reining the sob that wanted to break in the back of his throat. “Two years ago, I got into some trouble with local drug dealers for witnessing a deal and threatening to spill on them. But I was stupid and they were a lot smarter than I thought they were, so they said if I confessed they’d come after my family,” Emmanuel’s voice dropped to an all new low and Zahir could only stare with his hands bound behind him and his tongue cut out. “They said they owned an underground fighting arena, and that if I wanted my family to stay alive I’d have to fight for them for two and a half years. I only have three more months left of this and I’ll be free,” “How do you know they’re telling the truth?” Zahir interjected, feeling more rattled by the wind than ever before. All of this was too much and he felt like suffocating to death right where he stood. Emmanuel paused, trying to cover up his hesitation with a sigh but Zahir
had seen it far too quickly to ignore it. He began to cry, even without Emmanuel’s answer. Here he was, about to lose the one and only person who saw him for the rose, not the thorn. He was going to lose perhaps one of the only few good things in his life to a mistaken act of righteousness. He cried and cried, even as he was pressed into a neck that smelled of jasmine flowers and sweat. He cried until he didn’t know what he was crying for, but a hand on his lower back and a kiss to his temple reminded him. He clutched Emmanuel’s shirt until he was certain he could feel the cloth wrinkle and fold over his skin. “I can’t lose you, please. I love you,” the three words made a cycle of de-
struction in his head but he only clutched closer to Emmanuel. “I love you,” he repeated until his head was being held and he was looking into those amber eyes he was always too weak to go up against. Emmanuel pursed his lips and wiped Zahir’s tears with the edges of his thumbs. “I know.”
“Fire,” photograph by Technicolor Zebra