May 2012 midnightwriters.webs.com midnight.writers2013@gmail.com
Ask Aphro & Dite
Musings of Hades
Athena’s Corner
To submit questions, please email askaphro@gmail.com. They will remain anonymous!
The end is nigh. This is my last entry for this year. But don’t worry, I’ll be back! You can’t get rid of me that easily. May makes me think of nice, sunshine -y things. (No, not you, Apollo. Or you, Helios.) I was thinking along the lines of… mothers. My mom, Rhea, is the Titan Goddess of Motherhood, so she’s must be a pretty good mom, right? Well, I guess, but sometimes I wish she’d “acted up” against my wonderful father sooner, before he ate me. Then again, if she had, I might never have been born, since Rhea wouldn’t have had any more kids after my older sister, Hestia. My father, Cronus, heard a prophecy that his own child would overthrow him as King of the Universe, like he had with Grandpa Ouranos. So he decided the most logical approach was to swallow his kids when they were born. First Hestia, then me, Demeter, Poseidon, and Hera. I don’t know if Cronus had a second stomach or something, because we never got digested. Probably because my siblings and I are all immortal and can’t die. Especially not from stomach acid. Regardless, it got really cramped in there with five of us, and add the fact we were growing up, too… Rhea got fed up and ran with her sixth child, Zeus, giving Cronus a stone to swallow. It almost hit Poseidon on the head and made Demeter obsessed with rock gardens. Eventually, all-grown-up Zeus rescued us by making Cronus puke us up. We fought a war, won, and made Zeus the new king. The end. For now. We all tease Zeus about being a momma’s boy, but she’s got the rest of us under her thumb, too. Mothers. You can’t escape them. Well, that’s all, folks. See you next year, chumps.
Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore, May 2012: When her evil father King Leck died, Bitterblue became queen of a kingdom she knew nothing about. Bitterblue tries her father’s damage, and two boys help discover the conspiracy that will do anything to take down Bitterblue. Following the events of Graceling, this book chronicles Bitterblue’s struggles to rule in the wake of the chaos her father wrought on Monsea. I highly suggest reading both Graceling and Bitterblue, as well as the companion novel Fire, which are amazing fantasy novels. See the later interview with the author for more details.
Dear Aphro & Dite, My friend BP was telling me how to rebel against my parents. I told him he was making me uncomfortable and was a bad influence. Now he tries to avoid me in the hallways. We’ve been friends since 7th grade. I don’t want to break something as wonderful as the friendship we had. Please help, Fish Out of Water Dear Fish, Problems with friends can be the most difficult since they tend to be your support. You did the right thing telling him he was making you uncomfortable and him being upset is also understandable. I doubt he wants to lose your friendship either. Asking him to talk would be my advice. Do not retaliate or do anything to humiliate or cut him out from your life further. You need to determine whether this friendship can last or if it has changed in a way you do not like. Friends are relationships without the physical attraction. If there is no communication there's no way a good friendship will last. For now, reach out to BP and try to repair it, then let us know how things go. Love, Aphro Dear Aphro, I have the SAT II Subject Tests and the ACT coming up! I can't study for both - at least, not effectively. Any ideas? Stressing Over Tests Dear Stressing, Find out which is your strongest test and focus on that!! Studying for both ineffectively is useless so you should focus on what you are good at. If your SAT I scores were better than your ACT then focus more on the subject tests because that will be what Cont. on Pg. 13
First Comes Love by Katie Kacvinsky, May 2012 Gray is a loner, content to watch time pass without any human contact. Dylan is an eccentric photographer, obsessed with finding the hidden in just about everything. As these two people meet unexpectedly, and even more unexpectedly fall in love, watch the whirlwind both of their lives become. This is an adorable book that is so much fun to read – both for the romance and for the charm of both characters. Special thanks to Sra. Steele and acknowledgement to Hades, Athena, Hippolyta, and Hermes.
The Dreamcatcher By Hippolyta It’s Wednesday, and I’m lying on my bed again, Not because I’m exhausted from last-minute projects Or because I want to relax; I do, but I can’t. I’m watching the red streak in the ceiling fan from the dreamcatcher you gave me. You told that to work, they have to be given. And it’s true, after that day I didn’t have a single bad dream. We’d stay up talking until midnight, one in the morning, for days in a row not caring about school or our heavy eyelids. Then I’d roll over, and mid-conversation I’d fall asleep with you still on my mind. You broke the spell last Friday, Outside the food court, on a hard bench in the parking lot, Because you couldn’t see it going anywhere. and you didn’t really like me for ME. I don’t see what was wrong with where we were, But there are some things that can’t be undone, Including what I said to you afterwards. Now there’s an empty feeling, Alone at night where you used to be. I may have promised you I’d mail it back But even though it doesn’t work anymore, when I look at it, I think I’ll hold on for just a little longer. Illustration— “Smile of Blood” by Chronos
Illustration— “The Maiden” by Japanda3
Shleep By Alexandria As I lay under the covers, I close my eyes and try to snooze. A mosquito above me hovers, And I scratch a tiny swelling bruise. I begin counting to a hundred. One, two three, four, “How long will this take?” I wondered. Five, six, seven eight, I feel mind wandering away. Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve…
Soaring By Marisa M. “Gravity’s for wimps,” Carina declared, looking over the edge of the balcony at the busy city streets below. Miniscule cars the size of toy cars from her view zoomed along. “I agree,” Josiah said, but he was too engrossed in his magazine to even look up at his best friend. He had learned over the years to disregard at least half of what she said. Plus, he was in the middle of a very intriguing article. Fidgeting with excitement, Carina pulled the shiny silver helmet over her thick locks. She let out a deep breath and hoisted herself onto the railing. Josiah glanced up from his magazine to see his friend balancing precariously on the railing of the eighteenth floor. “Rina, isn't that kind of dangerous?” he asked, rolling his eyes. She was a daredevil, but he did not expect such stupidity from anyone, even her. “Oh, come on! Just relax and enjoy yourself for once. I am!” With that, she leaned back and disappeared over the railing. Josiah creased the corner of the magazine in order to save his page and walked over to the edge of the balcony. Peering over the railing, he dug into his pocket to retrieve his phone. “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” the operator asked. Spotting something in the distance, Josiah let the phone slip through his fingers, and he barely noticed when it crashed on the cement, shattering the screen. A small, human shaped object was moving quickly in his direction. In fact, it was becoming bigger and bigger, almost to the point where – Wham! – the mass collided into Josiah, toppling him over.
Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Josiah looked up to find… “Carina?” “Hi!” she shouted, grinning sheepishly but not budging from her current perch on top of him. “You never told me that you could fly.” “Sure I did!” Carina exclaimed, a small frown appearing on her face. “We were just talking about it before. I said that I was going to finally show you, and you said, ‘Sounds good.’ You were listening, weren't you?” “I do tend to tune you out when you start spouting out nonsense.” Carina stood up, and then helped Josiah to his feet. “Well, I bet you’re listening now, so I’ll tell you again. I can fly.” “You know, that's funny because I forgot to mention that I'm Batman," Josiah deadpanned, glaring at his friend. He could not believe that she had kept such a huge secret from him, her best friend and confidant. “And that’s funny because I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking.” “Haha.” He could believe in her flying, especially after seeing it with his own two eyes, but never, not in a million years, would he believe in psychics. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not joking, and I told you my secret a million times. It’s your fault
for not listening.” He grinned at his friend’s Immediately, Josiah’s characteristic answer, and a smirk slid off his face, re- moment later, he was holding placed by sheer bewilderment. onto her piggyback style. She “What the…” dove off the railing, and they They stared at each other in were in freefall. Carina pulled silence for a while, Carina out of the freefall when they waiting for a real reaction were close enough to the from her best friend, and Josi- ground to make out the disah too shocked to speak. Fi- tinct outline of faces. The ennally, he regained his voice. tire ride down, Josiah was "So…you can also read thinking that Carina’s helmet minds. I've always wondered really would not do anything how you of all people get for her if she crashed into the straight A's.” ground. The awkward silence reCarina smiled to herself. sumed, with Carina narrowing She could slow down, but she her eyes and glaring at Josiah. had not yet mastered the land“Oh! I just had the best ing part of flying. She rocketidea!” Carina announced, ed up, and they spiraled snapping out of it. “Follow through the sky, whipping me.” She climbed onto the past clouds. railing and gestured for him to The roar of the air refollow. sistance drowned out any and “No way.” all sound, but Josiah tightened “I promise you won’t re- his hold on his best friend and gret it! Grab on.” Impatiently, whispered, “You were right. she waved him over. Gravity is for wimps.” Josiah stared at her disbeFin lievingly. “Seriously? What happens if I let go?” “Don’t.” Illustration—“Gravity, What Gravity?” by Marisa M.
Welcome to Ganymede! By Holiday Blues “But why do we have to move to another planet?” Nick whined, following his father as he walked from room to room, marking things to be packed. “We’ve been here for five years, if we want to move we can always go to the other side of the continent or something, but why move planets?” “It’s better for us, better for everyone that way,” his father replied, entering the living room and examining an old chair. “The havoc you and Virginia caused scarred all our neighbors for life, and really, if the news hasn’t spread to the Western edge already, I’ll be surprised.” Nick pouted and sat on the sofa. He knew he was being petty and sulking wasn’t going to solve anything, but living on Venus had been quite a novel experience and he was not ready to give up his easy life as a Venusian just yet. His family had moved to Venus from Mars in 2340, nearly five years ago to the date. Compared to Mars’ dusty red plains and Earth’s ruined plateaus, Venus’ huge craters were a delight for Nick, perfect for anything he wanted to do. Now, thinking about leaving his home and moving to Ganymede – a moon, for heaven’s sake, not even a proper planet – was simply aggravating. Besides, it wasn’t as if he and Virginia, his sister, had done anything terribly horrifying. If the neighbors couldn’t handle a decent stink bomb, well, that was their fault. The stink bomb had been one of their best creations, it had been designed to release the glorious scent of the most evilsmelling Venusian skunk upon explosion, but even he
couldn’t have predicted the utter chaos it had caused. The scent had taken over all the area in a two-mile radius, infiltrating the houses and the schools and the offices, invading the noses of everyone in its path and refusing to be eradicated. It had taken nearly three weeks for the health department of their province to get the schools and offices started up again, which would have been a great respite for Nick and Virginia, if, of course, they hadn’t been grounded. Disgusted families, with hands over their noses, could be seen speeding away on their shuttles, taking an impromptu vacation to a different province, trails of greenish vapor floating behind. The mess had been cleared up, eventually, but as Nick and Virginia gained more and more clout at their local high school, their parents were forced to make more and more awkward apologies to strangers from all over the province, until finally they couldn’t take anymore and decided to make a fresh start. Both Nick and Virginia didn’t understand what the big deal was, though. After all, if it gave them three weeks of freedom from school and a spike in popularity, well, that wasn’t bad at all. Although Nick swore that if he sniffed very, very carefully, he could still smell traces of the skunk scent hanging in the air, ready to take over again. Virginia simply rolled her eyes. Anyhow, the fact of the matter was that Nick and his family were moving to Ganymede, and Ganymede was not a place where the cool kids went. It was a moon pretending to be a planet, and he was sure that the people there
would not, could not match up to the sheer greatness of all his Venusian friends, and he informed Virginia of this as many times as she could stand listening to him. Virginia just rolled her eyes again and told him to man up and accept the bitter truth or she would teleport him to Pluto. Pluto was about a billion times worse than Ganymede, so Nick manned up. Kind of. If manning up meant that he didn’t whine about moving for three whole days in a row, then yes, he had manned up. Three days, however, was all it took to get their possessions packed up and shipped to Ganymede by instant teleportation, and after a round of perfunctory goodbyes (Nick was sure that there was a slight note of relief in their neighbors’ voices), they were ready to leave. They arrived on Ganymede in the night. The view was spectacular; Nick was forced to admit as much after much coercing from his mother. Jupiter hung in the starry sky, big and red with faint rings around it, and the six other moons between Ganymede and Jupiter were scattered across the sky at random intervals. His mother and Virginia ooh-ed and aah-ed over the scene, while his father looked on approvingly, but Nick stood at the edges of their little group, thinking about Venus and how the night sky was always obscured by the heavy atmosphere, tinged yellow from sulfur and green from carbon dioxide, and how the stars were never quite visible as they were from Ganymede’s icy surface. All of a sudden, he felt very homesick. The next few months on
Ganymede passed very slowly, in much the same pattern. There were new hiding places, new friends, new technology, new routes, new neighbors, but the feeling of homesickness never passed. Nick tamped down the feeling by getting back up to his old tricks with Virginia, although on a considerably smaller scale, and he did make new friends, despite Virginia’s vague threats about his weirdness scaring kids away, and life moved on. At least, it did, until one day. School had just ended and Nick was waiting for Virginia outside the cafeteria, the chilly Ganymede air searing his lungs even in the middle of summer (or what passed for summer on a moon), when he suddenly caught sight of a small boy looking morosely at the ground, sitting on one of the benches inside the cafeteria. What caught his attention, though, was the look on the boy’s face; he knew it well, having seen it on his own face several times, the boy was homesick. Instinctively, he walked over to the kid. “Hey, kid, what’s your name?” he asked. The kid looked up, scowled, and looked back down. “Hey, come on, I know you’re homesick –” the boy’s head snapped up sharply at that, “– but so am I, so do you want to share your misery or not?” Nick continued. “Cam,” said the boy, slowly, with a faint accent that sounded somewhat Martian, “My name is Cam.” “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cam. Misery loves company, so do you want to get lunch with my sister and me?” Nick asked. Cam looked at him warily. “What’s in it for me?” Cont. on Pg. 5
WTG Cont. “A chance to make friends with the best people in town, obviously,” said Nick. “Who said that you’re the best? Last time I checked, Eric Schroeder was at the top of the high school food chain,” replied Cam. “You’re funny, kid, but who cares about Schroeder and his gang of Ganymede soccer players, we’re going to get some lunch. Ready, Virginia?” he asked, as he spotted his sister stroll out of the cafeteria. “Sure. Who’s this?” Virginia asked. “He’s Cam, and he’s as
Illustration—“Beyond the Stars” by Hades
homesick as us– ” “As you, you mean,” Virginia interrupted. “Yeah, sure, as me, but the important fact is that he’s going to have lunch with us, aren’t you, Cam?” Nick continued without a hitch. “Yeah. Sure, whatever,” Cam replied, rolling his eyes and standing up with a sigh. Funny, everyone’s reaction to Nick seemed to be that. But that would be a discussion for another time, now it was time for food. *** Lunch turned out to be an enjoyable event. Cam’s snappy comebacks countered Virginia’s dry wit, and Nick
threw in random observations from time to time. They shared stories about their homelands and the places they had visited, fighting over which planets were the best, and which ones were clearly the worst (Pluto won by a mile on that, dwarf planets still counted as planets, after all), and by the time Nick and Virginia finally went home, Nick realized that he hadn’t felt so light in a long, long time. The feeling of homesickness was almost nonexistent, quite unlike those times Nick had tried to push it back by himself, and it was nice to finally walk without every-
thing reminding him of Venus. His parents didn’t fail to notice the change in him, and they were so encouraged by that sight that they forced him to go out and have fun with Cam and Virginia whenever possible, and Nick found that he didn’t really mind. Ganymede actually turned out to be a fun moon when he wasn’t moping and comparing everything to Venus. Life moved on again, but for Nick, the direction had changed, too, in a way he didn’t expect, but he welcomed it with open arms, and knew the future was going to be a brighter place. Fin
In All Your Glory By Hades I wake in darkness and I Wonder where I am now. How can I stand? How can I breathe? But you’re here for me and You hold out to me your hand. Hold onto me tight. Don’t let me go. You are like the sun that shines Warm upon my face. Light wreathes you in beauty and In all your glory. With you I believe I can see. With you I can find my way. I dream of shadows and I Cry out all of my prayers. Am I alive? Am I alone? But you’re always nearby and I know that you’re by my side. Teach me to run. Teach me to live. You are like the sun that shines Warm upon my face. Light wreathes you in beauty and In all your glory. With you I believe I can see. With you I can find my way. Someday I will learn to dance With you beside me. A dawn will come when I can see Your smile at last. With you I believe I can see. With you I can find my way.
Photograph—“Farewells to the Sun” by Holiday Blues
Jacket By Nyctophobia It’s been by my side and my loyal companion. Same love people have for an old dog. It keeps me warm and protects me and shelters me from the cruelties of this world. It is my cocoon. My shelter. It is there for me when no one else is. My shoulder to cry on. My keeper of secrets. For what man could keep a secret better than it. This is why I love it. This is why I need it. This is why there is no space in my heart for you.
She Dreams By Hades She dreams of ruling the world. All humans will bow to her. She will have the lion’s share. The cream of all treasures. They will bend to her will. None shall ever look down on her. Small, weak things will be brought. She will toy with them and laugh. Then she will dispose of them. Her enemies will be sent away. Mindless, slobbering creatures. They will never torment her again.
She will have a tremendous palace. A garden will bloom for her frolicking. Ponds of fish will be available. She can nap anywhere she wants. Mostly in warm sunlight. Attendants will groom her. Masseuses will soothe her. She never has to wear horrible clothing. She will burn her old ones. Her old masters were kind but stupid. She will kindly put them in a cage. They will be cared for, of course. All this she dreams. But every day she awakes. She is still just a common cat.
A Starry Winter Night; A Bright Summer Day By Glittercheese Outside, the sky encompasses the world with its innocent baby blue face dotted with little blobs of soft white cotton after many long winter nights hiding in the depths of the angry black storms. The shining sun bursts through the puffy clouds, casting vibrant light rays and lightening the entire world of vast green land and trees. A melodious song of chirps bursts the world into a chorus – a few scuttles here and there, a few crackles of snapped branches elsewhere. The smell of oak and pine trees sends a mint-flavored fragrance into the misty air while a soft breeze tickles my skin. Roaring yellow dandelions spread throughout the vast green grass and happily brush by my toes as I tiptoe through the meadows. Humming with a generous piece of fresh meat in my straw filled basket, I expertly zigzag through the valleys and hills, throwing off my scent to curious creatures. As I slowly catch more glimpses of a darting orangewhite blob skipping peacefully through the flowers and grass, a small twitch pulls up at the sides of lips and I make my slow ascent up a big broad oak tree into the green bushy leaves to wait for my small friend. In seconds, the small, furry fox pup is beneath my tree, making ineffective attempts at catching a tricky sparrow. A hungry growl escapes the fox as it collapses down into the soft grass and watches the fluttering sparrow tweet away into the clouds. However, as the breeze picks up, the soft ears perk up and its sly eyes slowly scan the mead-
ows in search of the wellknown scent of food. As its yellow eyes as bright as stars spot me by the tree, it gently wags its furry tail and barks happily while dancing around the tree. Laughing, I slowly come down from my tree and gently show my delicate yet firm hand out near its moist nose. Accepting my invitation, it approaches me in small jumpy steps and I feel its furry warm red head for the first time since that scary winter night. After a few moments, it gently nudges my arm and I give it its lunch. A swarm of butterflies dotted the grass, sending small bursts of rainbows in the land of green when an eerie silence reverberated past. Immediately, darts of hiding, peaceful creatures spring out from their relaxation and race over to their shelters in fear. Small little critters, startled furry mammals, fluttering panicked birds scurry past in frenzy as violent snaps of
gunshots come sharper and louder than before. Quickly, I beckon my fragile friend into its safe den yet it stays put in resistance. Why today? It couldn’t be. It’s Sunday. It’s a family day. It’s a day to relax. It’s not hunting day. Frightened, I race through my memory and attempted to recall anything – anything at all that hinted at this hunting party, fully equipped with snarling beastly dogs, deadly rifles, and angry men. Yet the only memory that connected was nearly five years ago on a shivering winter night. It was in the middle of a relentless blizzard when everyone was starving from the lack of food and when everyone was frustrated at one another, yelling at one another, beating up one another, and anxious to get out of the cooped, overheated cottage, including me. Tired of all the arguments endlessly surrounding me and meaningless beatings for ab-
Photograph—“Blooms in Pink” by Aphrodite
surd reasons, I sneaked out into the blizzard with my big puffy winter wear out into the white world to get a scent of the fresh air. Immediately, the blinding white flakes of freezing water slammed into my red, already frost bitten face and sneaky clumps of snow crashed into my clothes, soaking me in minutes. I was only a few feet from home, yet I continued trudging through the knee deep snow with my persistence to escape the dread waiting at home. I should have taken that as a warning. The farther away I got, the more the world became a white mist beyond my eyes like an endless battle that one cannot win. The puffy barrier that once remained impervious an hour ago now acted as a cumbersome weight that tugged me down with every step I took. My fragile body shook uncontrollably from the freezing Cont. on Pg. 8
SWNBSD cont. cold snow melted inside my clothes and my teeth chatter against each other like a woodchuck beats a tree. In my desperate mind, I attempted to locate a place, any place where I knew that there was some sort of shelter that I could hide and warm up. A tingle of my memory suggested a small little den hidden near some trees that was located about a few feet away from where I was currently trudging along. That was when a buck, gone mad from the blizzard, stares with intent of death at my exposed body. In seconds, I saw the buck charge ferociously towards me, its antlers like deadly swords ready to kill with no mercy. I could feel the fate of my life resting in those few seconds after the first harsh contact when a red flash came out from the side and gallantly tackled the beast down. Half-conscious, I made out loud rasps of a life-and-death
battle a few feet away and, at last, I heard the soft sound of paws tapping like the soft rings of a triangle towards me. When I woke up, I dimly made out the edges of a family of fox napping all around me, cuddling me like a teddy bear. A contented rush of air escaped my mouth as I saw the youngest cub, a pure red fox, eyes shining as bright as the stars, as fuzzy and gentle like the purest soul. A sage fox gently tickled my arm with its smooth, moist tongue, bathing my wound with love and healing powers. In the midst of this home, a dream that seemed too good to be true, I heard the brutal sound of a snowmobile, clanging loudly along. Every member of the family perked its ears and stared alertly in the direction of the predator, the machine, and looked towards the fox that had previously saved my life. Immediately, I knew that my savior was going to get
killed, shot without any mercy, by MY family and I shook my head vigorously at the family of fox, hoping, pleading that they would understand me. Yet my savior ventured out, in the same manner that I had first seen him but this time, with a small army of other fox. Frightened, all I could do was whimper pitifully, causing the older fox to beckon me and the cub towards the back of the den, in a secret hiding place and cuddle us closer than before. The family of fox did not let me out. As each of them passed away in a valiant fight, I could only cry softly as another raced out in anger to take the place of the dead. I watched them all die. Every member of that family, that real family who struggled with each other through the long winters with a scarcity of food, that family who protected one another with all their hearts, that family who did everything for each other.
I watched the last fox, the mother fox, look at us, her children, for the longest time. I watched her lick her cub for the last time. I watched her lick my hair and cure my wound in seconds. I heard her. Outside, the cry of joy escaping the hunters, one of them MY family member, sounded like evil. Before the hunters could peer inside the den, I hid the cub deep inside the den, in the dark corners of its shadows, threw as much preserved meat as I had brought with me in the little holes around the den, enough for a cub’s food supply to last a month. Then, my father peered inside the den, cried out with laughter, and dragged me home along with the other hunters. Thus, the sound of the guns, reverberating through the meadows with relentlessness terrified me to the bones and I knew that the only way that I could do to protect part, any part of that family, was to protect their gift to me, the cub. They are after the den… because they knew that there is one more fox. There is one more sly fox that steals their game and interferes with their “fame”. There is one more fox that disconnects their family. But they do not know that this fox is I. As the sound of the guns target closer and closer – a bird down, a squirrel down, a rabbit down… I hide near the fox in a bed of grass and wait for the time to come… As I plunge into the bullet, the regret escapes me like a heavy cloak that has finally been lifted away. Fin Illustration—“Pelican Under a Starry Sky” by Japanda3
Chris McCandless’ Adventures with Doctor Who, on a Mind-Bending Trip through Space and Time By Athena The date was July 10, 1990. Chris had just survived a flash flood and saved some but not all of his supplies. Most noticeably, Chris was unable to save his car. Chris whined, “Aw, man! What do I do now? I can’t walk everywhere – I don’t have enough food to replace all the energy I would lose!” Suddenly he heard a VWORP VWORP VWORP and what appeared to be a beat up blue telephone box materialized in front of him Chris staggered backwards. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten those berries!” The Doctor stumbled out of the TARDIS—shaped like a blue police box from 1960’s London—coughing and waving his hands to disperse the smoke. He saw Chris and his face brightened. “Hallo, there! Would you mind helping me? The TARDIS seems to have broken down, and I need an extra hand to fix her exterior.” Chris was noticeably shaken, but did as the Doctor asked. All he really did was hand the Doctor tools he had never heard of, such as the sonic screwdriver. However, the Doctor was extremely appreciative of the help and wanted to repay Chris. But when he offered Chris material goods, Chris scoffed and claimed that he had no need for such fripperies. Eventually the Doctor had a great idea. “I’ve got the perfect solution!” he crowed. “I need a companion, and it seems that your ride has broken down. What would you say to an exciting trip across space and time as my aide-decamp?” The Doctor looked
excitedly at Chris. Chris eyed the TARDIS. “We’d be traveling in that?” The Doctor smiled and replied “Exactly! The TARDIS is unique, exciting, and unbreakable!” Chris gave the Doctor a skeptical look. The Doctor shrugged. “Well, there are a few kinks here and there, but as a whole the TARDIS is in perfect shape!” As the Doctor said this, the door of the TARDIS creakily gave way and hit the ground. Chris rolled his eyes and remarked scathingly, “Oh yeah, really great condition.” Hurriedly the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and fixed the door. Wiping his brow, the Doctor shrugged. “It’s your choice.” Chris looked longingly at his car, scrutinized the TARDIS, and sighed. “At least this trip won’t be boring,” he quipped, not realizing the truth of his words. As Chris stepped into the TARDIS, his eyes bugged out. “It’s-” “Bigger on the inside? Yes, yes, always has been. It’s Time Lord technology.” Chris stumbled inside, looking in awe, touching all the dials and switches and— was that an old typewriter? “DON’T TOUCH THAT! Those are thermocouplings— big things go bang if those drop, like...the Universe...that one ti- never mind.” The Doctor pushed Chris into an old barber chair and began whirling around the room, pushing buttons and pulling levers in a complicated dance. “Are you sure you can drive this...thing?” Chris asked nervously. “It’s perfectly sound,” the Doctor replied cheerily as the ship lurched like a turbulent airplane. “Even if I miss something the TARDIS will get it for me, she always gets
me where I need to be.” Photograph—“Hello, Sunshine” by Aphrodite “Time Lord...are you an alien?” Chris blurted. true love, a love destined to “Yup! The one and only, play out as tragically as Rovery last two-hearted Time meo and Juliet. Lord in the universe.” The Doctor interrupted Chris decided not to ask Chris’ reverie by calling out where the others were. He just “Hallo, old sport!” in Gatssat back and enjoyed the ride. by’s direction. Noticing DaiHe had completely forgotten sy, he frowned and asked, to fume about the blatant ma- “Did we come at a bad time?” terialism inhabiting the ship. Gatsby blew a kiss to DaiThe first stop was the plan- sy and came over to them, et, Big Egg, which was split chortling, “Of course not, old into East and West Egg. Coin- chap. Just giving the vocal cidentally, it is populated by cords a dusting-off. Didn’t similar people to Fitzgerald’s expect it to be so wellThe Great Gatsby. received.” He smiled. Behind “Truthfully, I think Fitz- him Chris saw Daisy close the gerald somehow visited this window and turn to talk to a place and wrote that book man he assumed was Tom. based on these people,” the “Hate to impose on you, Doctor whispered to Chris. sport, but do you mind lendChris didn’t reply, but took a ing me some parts for the good look around. TARDIS?” the Doctor asked. There was the garage “No problem at all, old where Wilson and Myrtle chap, just step on the teleport lived, over there the great mat,” Gatsby replied. There mansion of Tom and Daisy, was a flash, and the trio was and over the water - the out- standing in front of Gatsby’s landish Gatsby mansion. house. “Come in.” The Doctor However, the mansion was and Chris followed—and unoccupied, for the windows stopped at the doorway. They were dark and the owner was were stunned by the gigantic warbling an awful rendition of trash heaps filling Gatsby’s a love song to Daisy. She house. “Apologies for the smiled down on Gatsby from mess, chaps,” Gatsby called her second-floor window, ac- cheerily, “but my parties do tually enjoying Gatsby’s tone- cause a bit of disorganization deaf singing. Chris drank in in the house. Let me see if I the display of the power of Cont. on Pg. 10
McCandless cont. have that part—” And so saying, he dove into a pile. Chris wrinkled his nose in disgust grumbling, “He wouldn’t have these piles of filth everywhere if he didn’t have all this extraneous stuff!” He picked up a book made out of cardboard and muttered obscenities under his breath. Gatsby resurfaced a few minutes later, much filthier but clutching a strangelooking piece of metal. “Here you go!” he said triumphantly as he thrust the part into Chris’ arms. Chris accepted the weight but stepped back from the sheer power of the odor surrounding Gatsby. The Doctor, seemingly used to the smell, came forward and clapped Gatsby on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, old sport,” he told Gatsby affectionately. Gatsby puffed with pride. “It was nothing at all!” The Doctor smiled, looked at his watch and swore. “Hate to take and run, old sport, but we really have to go!” the Doctor yelled as he grabbed Chris and sprinted for the TARDIS. As the TARDIS took off, Chris heard Gatsby yelling, “Have a good trip !” Wondering what the hurry was, Chris asked the Doctor what the next stop was. “If we can make the trip before the TARDIS’ energy stores run low, I want to visit Thoreau at Walden Pond.” Chris’ eyes grew wide as he realized that he would be able to meet his idol face-toface. “Really? We’re really going to go see Thoreau as he was writing Walden? This is actually the coolest day of my life!” Chris chucked the mechanical part into a corner of the TARDIS. The Doctor leaped and
caught it inches from the floor. He straightened and glared at Chris. “This piece is crucial to our arrival at Walden Pond. Please be careful with it,” the Doctor admonished. Chris looked guiltily at the floor and nodded, accepting the piece carefully. He placed it where the Doctor directed him and the TARDIS set down gently on the ground, as if responding to Chris’ care. Setting the piece down on a cushion, Chris went to look out the window. He could see Thoreau’s cabin about three miles away, nestled in the edge of a forest. “It’s just how I imagined,” Chris breathed. The Doctor smiled and swept the door open with a bow. Chris stepped out wonderingly, and began to walk toward Thoreau’s cabin. The Doctor followed Chris after a long look at the mechanical piece. Chris stopped abruptly as he saw Thoreau walking to his cabin, pie in hand, conversing with a companion. “I—I thought he lived in isolation.” Chris stuttered. The Doctor looked over his shoulder. “Oh, it’s Mr. Channing. He’s a friend of Thoreau’s—he visits often. They must have come from Concord. The town is within walking distance—” The Doctor interrupted himself as Chris walked away, back toward the TARDIS. “Hey. Didn’t you want to talk to Thoreau?” Chris whipped around, spat “I have
nothing to say to that hypoBut when they arrived, crite,” and continued his stalk they did not touch down in toward the TARDIS. Chris’ backyard in 1990 as The Doctor frowned and they had hoped. Instead they ran to catch up. “Are you had arrived in the Alaskan sure? I still haven’t repaid the wilderness on May 1, 1992. favor I owe you.” Chris But all Chris saw was the reached the TARDIS, and beautiful wilderness he had sank down on the floor, obliv- dreamed of since he was little. ious to the Doctor’s question. He stepped outside the TAR“So everything I believed DIS, oblivious to the Doctor’s in was a lie? I abandoned my warnings. The Doctor tried to family for a lie?” he mur- run after him, but the doors mured to himself, starting to slammed shut of their own cry. The Doctor rushed up, accord, and the TARDIS distrying to comfort him. appeared into the nether. “Why don’t we drop you Only then did Chris realize off back home?” he suggest- the situation he was in – but ed. Chris looked up, tears too little, too late. He was shining in his eyes. stuck in the wilderness with “I would really appreciate few supplies and only his surthat, Doctor,” he whispered. vival skills standing between The Doctor smiled kindly and him and death. resumed his seemingly ranTHE END dom pulling of levers and pressing of buttons. Illustration—“Home Isn’t Home Without You” by Hebe
Illustration— “Serenade” by Artist Wannabe
Andiamo By Hades Andiamo, andiamo, Let the show begin. Conductor, raise baton, Everyone, breathe in. Andiamo, andiamo, Listen to the beat. Feel it in your heart, Sit on the edge of your seat. Andiamo, andiamo, Play with your soul. Be the melody, the harmony, Be the steady drum’s roll. Andiamo, andiamo, Lose yourself tonight. Embrace the music in the air, Set your spirit alight. Andiamo, andiamo, Take delight in applause. Watch them all stand, See how their hands never pause. Andiamo, andiamo, It’s the end of the show. Wordless, speechless, except… Bravissimo.
Snowing in August By Hades Water drops down my glass Of ice cold lemonade. My hammock sways upon a breeze That is not truly there. The sun is shining blindingly, And my eyes droop tiredly shut. But what! Is that…? It is! It’s snowing in August, And the heat is disappearing. The children all come outside, Staring in wondrous disbelief. They dance around in giggles, With tongues out to catch flakes. One girl throws the first snowball, Starting a marvelous war. We make snowmen in t-shirts, We make snow angles in shorts. Lemonade swaps for hot chocolate, Flip flops switch with boots. It’s snowing in August, And the weatherman is confused. He stammers and mumbles, Pointing wildly at his map, But he has no answers, either. It’s snowing in August, And I close my eyes to breathe cold – I jolt awake in my warm hammock. My lemonade has spilt on my shirt. There are no snowmen or angels, No children drinking cocoa. The weatherman predicts 90s and 100s, And the sun is hot as ever. I sigh sadly and stare at the sky, And that’s when I feel it. A single cold drop lands on my nose, Then disappears like a dream.
Freedom By Hermes As summer breeze calls, Ten weeks of revelry wait. Freedom nears at last!
Illustration—“Chill, Mon” by Alexandria
Chapter 8: The Truth Is Finally Revealed By Apollo “We find the defendant David Cameron…” began Tanya Smith. “STOP!” came a scream from across the courtroom at the entrance. Everyone froze in terror at who was actually standing before them. Something impossible stood at the entrance and it was something that could change the entire story. There standing boldly at the door, looking very much alive, was Liz Anderson. It couldn't be possible, she was dead. David Cameron had supposedly brutally murdered her at Gino Caldonado's Halloween Party last fall. But there before everyone's eyes, was Liz Anderson. And unless everyone was high on LSD and this was just a crazy hallucination, Liz was alive. She began walking firmly down the aisle of the courtroom. She did not stop to turn around or get a glimpse at anyone. She marched right up to the stand. Once she made eye contact with David Cameron, who stood frozen still in terror, she began intensely beating the living daylights out of him. “YOU IDIOT!” screamed Liz. “You tried to murder me! How could you? We were best friends! Why would you ever betray me?” “Wait a second! Wait a second! Wait a second!” yelled David. “I’m sure it's just a huge misunderstanding! Are you sure, you're not confusing me for my brother, Gabe. He's the one who you were best friends with!” “Wait a minute,” realized Liz, “I am mistaking you. It's Gabe who tried to kill me. He's the one who I'm going after. You're not Gabe, you’re his brother! Where's Gabe?!”
Gabe Cameron slumped down in his chair to where he was unnoticeable. “GABE?! GABE?!” shouted Liz. “Come out wherever you are.” Still no sign of Gabe in the courtroom. Well, of course he was there, but he wasn't making his presence particularly obvious. “Okay, Gabe,” said Liz, “you want to play it that way. I guess I'll just have to find you.” It didn't take Liz long to find Gabe. He was in the front row, slouched down trying to appear out of sight. “Hah, Gabe!” exclaimed Liz. “I've found you and now you shall pay!” Liz started punching the living daylights out of Gabe just as she did with David. “Liz, I don't understand,” Gabe tried to say, “how are you still alive?” Liz refused to answer continually beating him up. “How could you do something like that to me! How dare you try to murder Liz Anderson?” “Okay, I've had enough, Wheel of Fortune is just about over and there is no way I'm missing Jeopardy for this silly trial,” proclaimed Judge Judy. “SECURITY!” Suddenly out of nowhere, two mean looking dudes in blue security uniforms appeared out of nowhere ready to drag Liz Anderson away. “No! Don't take me away!” screamed Liz. “I still have to get some closure here!” Liz tried to fight off the security guards but it was no use, she was going to be arrested for assault. However, suddenly as if things couldn't possibly get stranger, Liz magically broke free from the security guards and reached Gabe again. Only this time, she didn't beat him up. This time, she started shaking him intensely.
“GABE!” she screamed. “You can say that again. “GABE, WAKE UP! WAKE Everyone else left and Gino's UP! GABE, WAKE UP!” asleep upstairs. But I decided “WAKE UP!” Liz to stay and make sure you screamed as she shook Gabe were okay so you wouldn't awake. freak out when you woke up.” “Huh, what happened?” “Liz, you're a great friend.” “Gabe, you were out cold. “Thanks. So are you.” Someone must have spiked And with that, they both the punch bowl,” said Liz. went on with their lives. It had “Oh,” said Gabe, “Liz all been a dream and nobody thank goodness you're okay. I had ever been murdered. They had the weirdest dream. You all lived happily ever after. were murdered. And I was put Well, almost. Liz was actually on trial for your death. But brutally murdered at a Halthen you were never actually loween Party forty years later. dead...” But it was not by Gabe or any “Okay, Gabe, keep talking other friend. It was by a crazy about whatever gibberish that man whose name will remain is,” said Liz. unmentioned. “It was all just a dream,” Fin said Gabe. “Wow, Liz, how long have I Illustration—“The Last Punch” by Calypso been out?” “About eight hours, Gabe, it's almost 6am.” “I better get going, I'm going to be late for school.”
Illustration—“Intense Concentration” by Hebe
AAD Cont. you're going to turn in but if not then focus on improving your ACT scores. Either way I'm sure you'll be fine. GOOD LUCK. Love, Aphro Dear Aphro, I'm having trouble deciding between the dark side and the nerd side. Which is better: deciding to fulfill the needs of your stomach and abandoning morals, or deciding to fulfill the needs of your brain and abandoning your (probably already destroyed) reputation? Sincerely, Torn Between Two Worlds Dear Torn, Well...the dark side has cookies so I'd choose that! But you should never abandon your morals no matter what happens. If those are the two choices, fulfilling the needs of your brain are more important. In my opinion
you should be able to find a healthy balance between morals and brain. But what do I know? :) Love, Aphro Dear Aphro & Dite, I love writing, and usually what happens is I get a bunch of different ideas at the same time and have trouble deciding which one to work on. Then in the end, most of the time I don't get much done at all. If I try to prioritize, the other ideas on hold nag at me and I worry by the time I get around to them, I won't like them anymore. If I try to work on all my ideas at the same time, there isn't much progress. What should I do? Sincerely, Over-Ideas Dear Over-Ideas, Choose one idea and work on it because if you lose interest in your ideas that quickly it can't have been a great idea to begin with, so it's okay if
Photograph “Misty Dusk” by Aphrodite
Her By Nyctophobia No matter how much I like her, I’m scared she'll never feel the same. Scared she'll never love me. Scared I'll just get hurt. Scared of a heartbreak. But I know, the only way she'll ever grow feelings for me is to try. To ask. To profess my feelings and hope she will feel the same. For this fear of rejection... It is only shadowed by the worse fear of unknowing. If she might ever love me.
you don't want to work on it. Prioritizing is a good idea and I think you should keep up with what you are doing right now because you are probably developing your great ideas, and if the idea is truly great it will come back to you. Love, Aphro Dear Aphro & Dite, During the summer, I usually get a lot of reading done. Unfortunately, I have a lot going on this summer and a lot of book s to catch up on. Is pleasure reading more important than work, or reading for Lit? Any suggestions on how to create a schedule for a balance of work and pleasure? Sincerely, Overloaded With Work Dear Overloaded, As you suggested, a schedule would be a great idea to help balance your time and make sure you can do everything you want to do. I would coordinate your schedule with all your other activities and try to prevent overlap. I would focus on trying to read Crime and Punishment quickly and effectively. I'm sure you will have plenty of time left over at the end for pleasure reading. Sincerely, Dite
Ember By Hades Your fire haunts the twilight air, Only a memory of your flare. An ember smolders in your grave, As if a soul that I could save. But e’en your light dies when it rains, And ash is all that still remains.
Interview: Kristin Cashore By Athena Have you ever thought writing was not the career for you? Never. I can’t think of doing anything better. Where do you get your ideas? The characters come from daydreams, followed by an enormous amount of work as I figure out the story behind the characters. Are there any author(s) who influenced your writing? Tamora Pierce and Robin McKinley because of what they did with girls and women – it was a relief to have strong women to imagine. I also grew up reading classics about strong women rather than fantasy – Anne of Green Gables, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Nancy Drew, Jane Austen. If you could sit down and talk with a person from any time period, who would it be? Amelia Earhart, about whatever she wants to talk about, just let the conversation flow freely. I admire what she did so immensely and it couldn’t possibly be a wasted conversation. She did what she wanted in a time when that was much harder than it is now. Do you listen to music while writing? Almost never. It interferes with my train of thought. Afterward, though, I listen to whatever captures the atmosphere of the books. For Fire, I listened to a sad fiddling song that made me think of Fire with her fiddle. For Bitterblue, I listened to “Cold As It Gets” by Patty Griffin. It represented the essence of how I felt while writing the book. Your setting is so creative and imaginative for all of your books. Was there any specific inspiration for such fantastic and magical settings? Nothing specific. I get the idea but don’t stop to think
about where it came from. Daydreaming is really good for getting ideas, but it’s hard to remember where they came from afterwards. Are any of your characters inspired by people you know? No. That would interfere. I want my characters to be their own person. When a character is too similar to someone I know, I change the character. Getting the base of a character is a lot of work. You have to listen to the character and get them to tell you who they are. If writing the character doesn’t feel right, then I change them. Some characters are easier than others. Po is easy to write. He is talkative and has an open personality. He’s easy to know. Katsa, on the other hand, has an obliviousness that makes her easy to write but hard to figure out because of her unconscious knowledge. Does she really know this? Does she know it but not realize? Notes from Q&A: Failure is very important to
writing a book. If you are a writer and you feel what you’re writing is crap, why on earth are you even doing this – these feelings are normal. That’s what it feels like to be a writer. And getting a book to where you want it to be is the best feeling in the world – worth all of the pain. How do you think of names? I often look at the credits of movies, last names are always good, sometimes I change a few letters of real names. Some names are troublesome. In the German version, Po had to be renamed Bo because Po means butt in German. In the Italian version, Katsa had to be changed to Katchya because Katsa means pecker. What are you going to work on in the future? I plan to write a contemporary fiction for a change of pace. It may not turn into anything. I will most likely write one more fantasy novel. Will there be a sequel to Fire? Hopefully, but I don’t know for sure.
Do you ever get weird fanmail? I get much less now that I removed my email from my blog. Once a woman wrote to me saying reading Graceling was like finding cockroaches in her ice cream. She really loved reading Po and Katsa’s romance but was horrified they didn’t get married. Soon after a guy wrote me asking if Leck was inspired by Barack Obama (which was very offensive, considering my campaign efforts for Obama) and so that’s when I decided to take down my email address. Is there going to be a movie for Graceling? Not yet, but my agent is working on it. Will you be involved in it? I have no interest. I want script approval but have no hope in it being what I want. I don’t want to get involved and have my heart broken into more pieces than it would be already. It would be best if they changed the genre Cont. on Pg. 15
Photograph—“Greetings From Aliens” by Aphrodite
Photograph—“Tea-licious” by Aphrodite
Interview cont. completely. A kung fu movie, a Bollywood or even a musical! That would be awesome, then it could be on Broadway! Who are your ideal actors? I don’t have any. I have such high expectations. What brought you to fantasy? My characters came first with their magical powers, then daydreaming and curiosity about what happens next led to the story. Do you go to so many awesome places because you lead this awesome life? Not exactly. I like travelling,
but I like home, too. I get to work in my pajamas (work pajamas, to differentiate between work and sleep). I travel both for the book and on my own. Writers get a tax write-off for research, so I take full advantage. But there is a lot of stress and pressure. Not all of my life is good. There are plenty of time expectations. But I’m happy in my career and gracious of how lucky I am. Is there a step before your rough draft? I do a planning page. I write the basic plot first, since I can change it later in the process. At about 40-50 pages, I tran-
scribe my work onto Word. I’m deathly afraid of a fire burning up all of that work. I keep all my notebooks in a fireproof and waterproof safe, but I’m still afraid. Which book was the hardest to write? Bitterblue. How do you get published in foreign countries? I held onto the book rights, so my agent sells the books individually to each country. Your books all have a feminist plot. Is that important to you? The feminism is a driving force. Possibly because of my Catholic school experience and how angry it made me. I as definitely was sick of sex-
ism in Jesuit school. Who’s your favorite protagonist? I relate to all three in a different way, but mostly to Bitterblue. She’s a regular person surrounded by extraordinary people. I care about her in a special way. She feels like a daughter. Why did such horrible things have to happen to Po at the end of Graceling? Even though the author is in control when she writes, certain things have to happen in the story. Unfortunately, Po’s accident is one of those things.
Nana’s Corner Readers, hello! This is a Kodak moment. Hats off, people. Say “cheese” and smile. I congratulate you ALL for successfully reaching the finish line of a long and rocky race through another year of high school! Finally, you can stop to catch your breath, wipe the sweat from your brow, and relish in the moment you can shake off all the pressure that has been stalking you, staring at you, weighing on you, and feeding off of your self esteem and motivation. Just pause for a moment, look back, and take in all that you have achieved. This is not optional. It’s time to splurge in what you’ve been abstaining from (or not) for a long time. It’s also time for us to say our farewells and Adieus! Especially to our seniors. We will miss you, graduates of 2012! You’ve left us with big shoes to fill, but do not worry, we’re all in the good hands of, what I may add objectively, the awe-inspiring, breathtaking, magnificently majestic, and stunningly wonderful Class of 2013. (As you may have noticed I am being modest with my adjectives.) Summer has finally arrived! (Although I must admit it never really left this school year, but I’m not complaining.) Despite my previous paragraph about relishing in your newfound freedom, we all know you’re not really completely free from stress. It seems we all enjoy maxing ourselves out by over-filling our open schedule during the summer. There’s just so much to do, so little time. Gotta save the world, create world peace, find a cure for cancer, cleanup the Gulf Coast. Oh,
but that’s just a warm-up. After that we’ll fly to Mars, discover water there, take a sip for good measure, regret it afterwards, and then perk up for gaining bragging rights and a story to tell. You’ll head back to earth, grab some lunch, and head off to do some fancy activities with equally fancy/intelligent/ legit sounding names that you can later slap onto your resume, adding a good one to two inches of writing to what you already have. Well, whatever you’re doing this summer and wherever you are, I hope you guys all make sure to stick some fun time into your schedule! A final note… To all the current sophomores: GOOD LUCK! May the odds be ever in your favor
Illustration—“Chibi Korra” by Hebe
through Junior year. It’s no walk in the park, but I believe you all have it in you to bear through it all, just remember to believe in yourself. ESPECIALLY when you fail. Always look ahead, and don’t broad over what has already been done. We all get agitated when we mess up, but don’t let it get the better of you, and don’t let it go to waste. Pick some good ole’ wisdom out of it, so you end up gaining the profit. To all my fellow seniors to be: I’m really proud of you all! We DID IT! Of course there is still much to be done, and many big decisions to be made, but for now, I’d like to do the honors and congratulate you guys again for getting through it all! Luv ya all! We’re going to make this
the 13EST year Churchill has ever seen. (And this is a complete understatement!) And finally, a shout out and round of applause to our Midnight Writers leaders! Thank you all for your hard work throughout this year, and being flexible with your due dates! (Really, thank you!) It was all thanks to you guys for getting this club started and giving all of us another chance to create great memories! (And slap on another activity with a fancy appellation onto our resume. Admit it guys, you do it for that, too! But that’s only a very small reason of course!) I’m grateful I was able to be a part of this, and I hope to be able to come back and write again next year! Ciao, amigos!