November 2012
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents Cover: “The Moving Island,” by Hecate This Page: “Healthy Eats,” by Chaos Page 3: Ask Aphro & Dite:
Boyfriends, Parents, and Writer’s Block
Musings of Hades:
The Dark Lord Rants (about crazy family reunions)
“Jack Frost, Guardian,” an illustration by Raindrop “Mockingjay,” Background by Nana (March 2012)
Page 11: “Hunger Games: The Girls,” by Apollo “Red Carpet Smile,” an illustration by Selene “Mockingjay,” Background by Nana (March 2012)
Page 12:
“Fifty Years From Now,” a short story by Nemesis The Last Free Cat by Jon Blake, Unbreak My Heart by “The Watcher,” an illustration by Selene Melissa Walker “Sailor’s Warning,” a photograph by Hades
Athena’s Corner: Book Reviews
Page 4:
“What to Draw, What to Write,” a poem by Kenpachi “Black and White,” poem by Queen Shadowblossom “We All Fall Down,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Autumn,” a poem by Artemis “Wildlife From My Window,” a poem by Athena “Rose,” a poem by Queen Shadowblossom
Page 5: “Turning the Page,” a poem by Vivian Griselda “The Emptiness in the End,” by Hunny-Senpai “Happily Ever After,” a sonnet by Athena “The Athenaeum,” a photograph by Hades
Page 6: “Sweethearts,” an illustration by Hecate “A Nighttime of Yawns,” a poem by Glittercheese “Hole,” a poem by Hades “Today,” a short story by Raven
Page 7: “Submission,” a short story by Ariadne “Dandelion, Fly Away,” an illustration by Selene
Page 8: “Siege of Fire,” a poem by Hades “Darkness Born From Fire,” a photo by Persephone
Page 9: “The Stars in Her Eyes,” an illustration by Selene “Ember,” a poem by Hades “Fire in the Hearth,” a poem by Zenyatta “Man’s Magnum Opus,” a photo by Persephone
Page 10: “Hunger Games Interview: The Guys,” by Calypso
Page 13: “After Midnight,” a photograph by Athena “First Steps,” a poem by The Owlish Bookworm “Hope and Justice,” a poem by Hades “Faces of Innocence,” illustrations by Hecate
Page 14: “Monster in the Locker,” an illustration by Hecate “Calypso’s Island,” a monthly column
Page 15: “His Name is Blood: Two,” a series by Hades “Muse,” an illustration by Selene
Page 16: “His Name is Blood” continued “Lorelei,” an illustration by Chronos
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Ask Aphro & Dite
Musings of Hades
Dear Aphro or Dite, I had a really negative answer from my parents when I told them I was going out with someone last year. I just got asked out by my crush and said yes, but now I have to tell my parents or they will start suspecting something. I started writing a letter to my dad, since he is the one that was less negative last year, but I’m still scared. What should I do? Maiden in Shadows Dear Maiden, I think you should stick with the relationship a little longer before telling your parents. See how well it’s going and if it is anything that will last before causing a fight with your parents. Writing a letter may not be your best method. If you talk it out face-toface with your parents, it might help your case! Maturity and being adult-ish and all. Be confident. Love, Aphro Dear Dite, I’m doing NaNoWriMo and have an extreme case of writer's block. No matter how much chocolate I eat or how many walks in the park I take, I can’t find inspiration for a 50,000 word novel. Are there any good cures for writer's block? Sincerely, Out of Ideas Dear Out of Ideas, There are many things that can lurch someone out of a slump. Everyone thinks of the obvious, like trying to see something aweinspiring or suffering a personal tragedy. But since I don't have any Grand Canyons lying around and murder isn’t in our M.O., I'd suggest looking through past experiences. The best writers use their own lives as inspiration for their writing adding intriguing aspects to change it up. I wish you luck on your NaNoWriMo story! Love, Aphro and Dite
Demeter is hosting Thanksgiving this year. She’s already tried to poison me three times tonight. I mean, poison can’t really kill me, since I’m a god and everything, and it mostly just gives me a bad stomachache. But it’s the thought that counts, and lacing my sweet potato waffle fries with cyanide sends out a pretty clear message. It probably doesn’t help I insisted Persephone and I bring Asian-style chicken in pomegranate sauce. In other news, Artemis went out this morning and shot several turkeys, and Poseidon’s bought his infamous calamari (all five gallons of which I assure you he will eat before the night ends). Demeter picked Apollo to D.J., which may be the only good decision she’s made in the last few hundred years, since he’s the God of Music and all. Well, he almost decided to play “Boyfriend” and “Friday” just to spite us, but Athena forcefully talked him out of it with her trusty spear. …Sorry, I needed a moment. Demeter just stole Poseidon’s trident and tried to shish-kebab me. It missed and tore a hole in Aphrodite’s new Prada dress. After Hermes finished restraining Demeter, Ares and Hephaestus had to take turns, while shooting each other the evil eye, calming down Aphrodite so she wouldn’t uglify the entire state of New Hampshire. But besides that, it’s been a pretty uneventful Thanksgiving. Once we all calm down, we’re going to watch Disney’s Hercules and laugh at all the inaccuracies—and mock Zeus for his eternal inability to wear purple togas.
Athena’s Corner The Last Free Cat By Jon Blake, Sept. 2012 One night Jade finds a cat— unregistered, therefore illegal—in her backyard. She keeps it and, once discovered, is forced to run. A classmate, Kris, is willing to help protect them as they hide from and fight against the corrupt government to save a feline whose only crime was being born. The action and suspense as Jade and Kris run is superb, with plenty of surprises and conspiracy. The budding romance is a nice complement to all the action, and the ethics battle that warns readers of our possible future is not overdone but not kept in the background either—a perfect balance between the story and the moral behind it.
Unbreak My Heart By Melissa Walker, May 2012. Clementine broke her heart and alienated her best friend over the school year, and she plans to spend her summer on the sea, wallowing in her misery. But her family and a new friend, James, want to help her heal again. As the story of the summer unfolds, so does the story of what happened over the year, and the she and James come together into a poignant story of betrayal and guilt, of forgiveness and hope. Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Hades, Athena, Hippolyta, Hermes, Raindrop, and Aphro. 3
What to Draw, What to Write By Kenpachi What to draw, What to write, What to do... Commonly asked by many people Just think deep, Or not even think, sometimes, Inspiration comes out of nowhere. Could be the next person You see on the street, Or even counting the stars
In the night blue sky. It also can come from the past, Or the present, Or whether it be real or not. Just remember To write from your heart, Or draw with your soul. Even ask a friend for some ideas. Drawings, written pieces, are equal. A picture is worth a thousand words, A word can be a thousand images. Believe, and you can do anything (Within human capabilities, anyway.)
“We All Fall Down,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
Black and White By Queen Shadowblossom A magical organization of wood and strings Built to make beautiful sound The mahogany gleams bright
Sleek and smooth wood underneath me The notes tumble from my fingers The whirlwind of sounds Twirls together in wonderful harmony
Autumn by Artemis The leaves fall from trees Like children from their parents They slowly fall towards the earth Gliding gracefully With the wind To be reunited with others That have already fallen They settle on the ground Finally at rest
The deer
and graze,
The great blue heron and stares, The vultures and wait, The groundhogs waddle and The birds sing and The fox cubs and play, Such is the view of
Rose by Queen Shadowblossom
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It is amazing How such a beautiful thing Can bring such pain Fragile and soft With a thorny bottom When from a lover A most romantic gesture When that lover is gone A symbol of hate and false promises Did your “I love you” mean anything? The fragile petals mocking me. Perfection marred by experience
The Emptiness in the End By Hunny-Senpai
Turning the Page By Vivian Griselda
Across the room he sits light eyed, Clarifying which choice is right. Long for the past, hope for the future, I can’t move past that horrible creature. A fresh pair of eyes looks your way, But my old glasses are still on the table. Praying to break free today, Wonder if love is an option I can handle. A smile and a walk lead to butterflies, This is a new world to my mended heart. When everything he was turned to lies, Shouldn’t distance keep us apart?
Whoever read a book and enjoyed it has felt it. You know what I mean, that feeling. When you turn to the last page and want to finish, you need to know how it ends, you read fast, devouring the words, the sentences, the paragraphs. That time when you can’t breathe, until you get to the last full stop of the journey.
And then… what? It’s over. They’re gone; everyone is. From the protagonist to that character who had little intervention but we really grew affection for. They’ve disappeared, like the wind, invisible now, they only remain in our memory. It’s like if something died inside of us, like if the covers of that book
stole a piece of our heart. Emptiness is all we feel then, until we gain the courage to overcome our feelings and open a new book.
and Incredible, But I hold no wild feelings. Treacherous but a Miracle, For you I look up to the ceiling. Sensible
I think you should leave, You’re not in this chapter.
Why is it that the memories, Always haunt me after. Look up to the blue eyes, So I can turn the page again. Forget the green ones that made you cry, Because a new story is about to begin.
Happily Ever After by Athena The cover riffles open; our story begins. The heroine lives her life, waiting on and on For her great adventure, making plenty of friends To help her on her journey to save a king’s son. She travels, always facing danger and hurts But knows she must be courageous and continue To the citadel, where she must battle the worst A prince today crazy, a prince that she once knew She, only she, can free him from the dreadful spell Destiny has foretold, and so she will obey She can defeat the wicked witch, send her to hell With merely true love she can again save the day. Good triumphs, all is well, peace lives on again And that, my dear friends, is where our story ends.
“The Athenaeum,” Photograph by Hades
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“Sweethearts,” Illustration by Hecate
A Nighttime of Yawns By Glittercheese Seconds loudly tick by to the time of midnight When the moon is high and stars dot the sky Silent hiccups of sleep through the dark house Escape into the black deep, quietly as a mouse Yet I am a tiger, raging through time Beating the odds of mother nature The dawn’s fingertips of orange creep up And I have won the night. For
now.
Hole by Hades There is a hole inside of me As I run around endlessly. I cross glazed hills and ford thick streams, But mountains are all I can see. I have been cast in flames and steams, But pain is absent, so it seems. For all I think about is you, Your sweetness just the stuff of dreams. I wonder if you miss me, too, When scattered joys are far too few. My search must end; I breathe a sigh, For I’m not meant to be in two. As I’m leaving, you catch my eye, Resting with friends and up so high. I can’t fly to you, though I try, So I must leave with no goodbye.
Today by Raven He would do it today. Darin had to. The decision was made. Sarah’s nasally voice snapped Darin out of his blissful moment of solitude. She was ranting yet again how one of her friends – Who was it this time? Lisa? – had broken up with her boyfriend. The warning bell rang. Darin peeled himself reluctantly off the wall and followed Sarah to her first period. Sarah was, as always, in front, pushing the other kids away. That was how it always was. Sarah Bronstern moved for no man. They moved for her. She took an old piece of gum and stuck it on the wall with her long graceful fingers. The sound of her loud chewing was drowned out by another rendition of “what looks cute.” Darin prepared to brave through his torture.
Cleo’s dress looked great, but Nina’s hair needed a cut. Was it Nina? Darin hoped he wouldn’t have to know for questioning later. Sarah liked to know she was being heard. Were all girls this painful to be around? Darin felt sick. As they turned into the classroom, Sarah stopped. Darin automatically stopped, too. He hated when he did that, but with Sarah, you couldn’t help following her. He thought longingly to the months before Sarah had broken up with Mark Zeaken and had gone suddenly, inexplicably, for him. Before she had made him quit the chess team and go to the gym instead. He hated the gym. He hated her. Sarah looked at him squarely. “You don’t look too good, babe.” She gave him a peck with those perfect lips on his large nose. Everything about her was perfect.
Her long legs draped in a pink miniskirt ended in five-inch heels. Her skin-tight tank top framed her tiny hips. And on her cream-colored face were full, glossed lips that pouted at him as her sparkling blue eyes gazed up at him. At this distance, Darin could see the makeup applied on her lashes to make them darker. She had a button nose and perfect teeth. Her manicured figures twirled a strand of the blonde hair that draped her shoulders. She was Aphrodite on earth. Sarah flashed a blinding smile as she strutted into the classroom, leaving behind a strong sent of lavender. He sighed. Girls like Sarah never went for guys like Darin. Maybe he wouldn’t break up with her. Not yet, anyway. Today wasn’t the day. It couldn’t be. Fin
Submission by Ariadne There’s a gun to her head. The barrel of it pressed firmly into the side of her head, tucked beneath thick locks of auburn. This sort of scene isn’t new, it isn’t in anyway foreign, it’s as overplayed in their flimsy fabricated realities as the danger signals blinking in her vision. It’s the violent joining of the human and the machine, a power play of blood and oil; mixing and soaking into the ash-ridden earth as each befall to their inevitable fate. It’s war, and it’s never looked so beautiful. And that’s so wrong, but in these desolate streets, where lies and violence dig deep and the broken and suffering pit against each other, there is no wrong. The gun shakes with an unsteady hand, the point of it pushed harshly against her skull. If she’d been a normal girl, she’d probably bruise, but she wasn’t, and the man holding the gun knew that.
But even though she’s not normal, even though she’s the thing he’s opposed since day one, his hand won’t steady upon the pistol. It’s impossible, it’s futile, and with each second his hand stays on the gun, he can feel a spike of desperation stab deeper into his chest. It makes no sense, not with her crumbled beneath him on the floor, mute and motionless. He has nothing to be scared of, nothing holding him back from making the shot he’s made countless times before. The only thing coming between him and freedom is her prone inanimate body and yet the gun still shakes in his hand, and she still stays unmoving on the ground. And perhaps that’s why he can’t make the shot, because she does nothing; simply lying there, as if she’s waiting for something, as if she knows what’s going to happen, and accepts it. He’s never seen submission before in his life.
So when she turns her head, hazel optics flickering and focusing, with a turn of her lips that almost seems melancholic in his eyes, he’s compelled to ask. He has to ask. He needs to know, “Why?” He questions, and the word hangs dead in the air between them, spinning and strange like the ashes in the light. Her gaze doesn’t waver on him, and the smile that stretches over her lips only brightens slightly in response. His eyebrows knit together in frustration, “Why?” He repeats, the word coming out much more strained and desperate from his mouth this time, as he presses the gun further into her skull with warning. She only laughs, and it’s impossibly sweet and light from her smiling lips. She tilts her head at him, “What’s your name?” He finds himself answering before he can think twice of it, “Smith.” Then the smile turns sinister.
“Dandelion, Fly Away,” Illustration by Selene
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Siege of Fire by Hades Though it is night and all should sleep, The village screams as people flee. Small children cry for their mothers, And crowds rush onto the ferry.
Lieutenants bellow their orders, And archers ready their arrows. Soldiers huddle with swords and shields, Frightened eyes squinting and narrowed.
The castle’s lord stands in horror, Yet he knows what he must now do. He dons his bright, polished armor, Picks up his greatsword, straight and true.
Some run on foot while others ride, Hitching horses onto wagons. But those too old or weak to move, They sit still and whisper: dragons.
Suddenly, before they can blink, The brightest banner is aflame. The swordsmen shout and look around, But the bowmen breathe and take aim.
He walks proudly to the ramparts, The soldiers bowing to their liege. Those wounded gaze at him and weep, And call for him to end the siege.
A chilling shriek breaks the silence, And the first house catches fire. Those left behind, their whispers die, As they envision their pyre.
Soon the sky is raining with blood, And the serpents spit their ire. Their golden eyes shine with their thirst, And now the battle is dire.
A growl of doom fills the night air, But his heart beats steady and slow. For a moment he shuts his eyes, The rush of blood in his head grows.
From afar, the great castle sits, Armed men preparing for battle. The haunting cry sounds like a whip, And e’en the boldest are rattled.
Men surge forward with much courage, A virtue unnoticed by beasts. Then the fighters beg for mercy, But dragons care not in the least.
He looks up into gleaming orbs And the lord takes his final breath. Then, with a bittersweet smile, He leaps into the jaws of death.
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“Darkness Born From Fire,” Photograph by Persephone
“The Stars in Her Eyes,” Illustration by Selene
Ember By Hades
I wish I could follow your voice, But life does not leave me a choice.
Your fire lights the twilight air, Only a memory of your flare.
Although the burning coals still glow, I’m too late for your inferno.
My warmth is now forever gone, Yet still I have to carry on.
Smoke turns the woods heavy with gray, Blocking out the last light of day.
I see your shadow in the mist, And I know I have to resist.
I try to catch a single spark, Before night falls and all is dark.
They all slip from my hands, like dreams, At last my throat burns, raw, from screams. The skies let go and weep with me, And finally your flame’s set free. 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.
Fire in the Hearth By Zenyatta
Scarlet flames lick at the wood, Hungry, searching for more food. They are vexed and red with anger, Almost roaring as smoke lingers. Eager as they swallow air, Always hungry at us stare. As they try to reach us here, They burn out and don't come near.
“Man’s Magnum Opus,” Photograph by Persephone
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Hunger Games Interview: Meet the Guys Peeta, when you were reaped for the 74th Hunger Games, what was your reaction to being chosen along with Katniss? Peeta: Well, I was shocked, of course. I didn’t think I’d be reaped, considering how many times I had my name in there. But then again, Prim was reaped and she only had her name in once. At first it didn’t even register in my brain that I’d been reaped. I kept looking around for the person Effie had called, and after a moment, I realized everyone was staring at me. Part of me dared to hope one of my brothers would volunteer for me, but then I realized I’d indirectly wish for my brother’s death if I did that, because I’d want Katniss to win so she could come back. By the time I got up on stage, it finally sank in that Katniss would die, or I would, and that thought alone made me nauseous. Interviewer: So, Gale, what was your reaction to Katniss choosing Peeta over you? Gale: It was kind of crushing, but I’ve gotten over it. Honestly, it was hard to lose the first girl I really loved, but if she didn’t appreciate how much I loved her, then I guess I’m better off without her. I’m perfectly happy without her, and I’m glad to say that I’ve moved on with my life. I knew I’d lost her when we were in the Capitol, and I just had to come to terms with that. My one regret is we haven’t stayed in touch. Interviewer: Caesar, it must be strange for you to be the one being interviewed instead of the one interviewing. Tell me, do you enjoy doing your job? Caesar: I never would’ve said this while Snow was president, but I hate my job! I hate it, I despise it, and I would’ve never become the official tribute interviewer for the Hunger Games if I didn’t have to. To tell you the truth, the only reason I was the interviewer was because the Capitol gave me a choice between that job and torture. You see, I used to live in District Thirteen, but the Capitol captured me and gave me the option between the two, so naturally I chose this. Still, it’s almost worse than torture. I mean, to have to interview twenty-four kids, and to know I won’t see twenty-three of them ever again, is just terrible. And don’t even get me started on the Capitol clothes. Snow wanted me on top of all of the trends, which meant I had to wear some of the most stupid clothes I’d ever seen, not to mention the most uncomfortable. Interviewer: Seneca, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s curious. Can you tell us where you got your inspiration for the arena of the 74th Hunger Games? Seneca: I’m so glad you asked. So many people forget how much work goes into those planning those arenas. Honestly, everyone’s so caught up with the tributes that the arena is completely forgotten. I really do have the most underappreciated job in the Capitol. You see, for the 74th Hunger Games, I got my inspiration when I was taking a walk in Snow’s rose garden. It made me think about poisonous plants, and it gave
Interviewer:
me the idea to have bunches of poisonous berries everywhere in the arena. I built the arena around that idea, but does anyone even think about that? No! All they’ll remember is how that stupid brat Katniss and her boyfriend Peeta both walked away as victors! I have the most underappreciated job in the Capitol. Interviewer: Finnick, we all know about your romance with Annie, but why don’t you tell us about your relationships with other girls, namely your relationship with Katniss? Finnick: When I first read Katniss’s name on the television, I misread it and saw Kantkiss. And honestly, that couldn’t be closer to the truth. Both Peeta and Gale told me she’s a horrible kisser. Not that I’d know anything about how she kisses from experience, but I’m just saying that if two people say she’s a horrible kisser, she probably is. Anyway, for someone who can’t kiss, she was an interesting friend. She was incredibly moody, but she seemed to understand what I was going through when I was missing Annie. I still think she should’ve married Gale, though. Interviewer: Haymitch, when was the last time you were sober? Haymitch: Well, sweetheart…I haven’t been sober since…I don’t remember when. But that doesn’t matter, and here’s why…you need to stop asking all these questions because you’re giving me a headache. Now, I’m going to take a nap, and when I wake up…you better be done asking all these stupid questions, got that? Good. By Calypso
“Jack Frost, Guardian,” Illustration by Raindrop
Hunger Games Interview: Meet the Girls Interviewer: Which Games did you find the most difficult? Katniss: The second one. The first one, I was going into a competition from a district without the hottest winning streak. But after Peeta and I won, the pressure was on to win again in the Quell. We got more publicity and people had higher expectations. We were the defending champions. And we were on the younger, stronger side, competing against champions from Hunger Games across the decades, such as Wiress and Beetee, who were both on the older side. I didn’t expect them to have any chance at all. Interviewer: President Coin, what’s the real reason you preferred Peeta over Katniss? Coin: I actually greatly preferred Katniss to Peeta, because she’s the smarter one and because girls are just better than boys. It’s a fact. Anyways, I grew up in District 12, and when I was a teenager, I had a serious boyfriend, Mr. Mellark. But he caught me cheating with another boy, Craig. Please, I’m not a bad person. I’m really not. It’s just that Craig was so handsome, and when Craig asks you out, you just can’t say no to him. However, I still wanted to be friends with Mr. Mellark, so we made a deal. If his family was ever chosen to compete in the Games, I had to do everything I could to support them. I secretly helped Peeta during his first Games. Remember the medicine Peeta got for his leg? And after the second Games, when we took down the Capitol, Mr. Mellark said Peeta came before Katniss, no exceptions. He threatened to expose my selfish actions as a teenage girl if I didn’t favor Peeta. That worked out well... Interviewer: Rue, are you glad that Thresh avenged you? Rue: Absolutely. I’m eternally grateful. I was absolutely disgusted to learn Clove taunted Katniss after Marvel killed me. Clove ought to be sorry she thinks death is funny, and Thresh killing her was the only way to bring her to justice. I may look like a sweet, little girl, but I’m a firm believer in revenge. It was right for Thresh to kill Clove and make her suffer. Interviewer: Prim, if Katniss had been reaped, would you have volunteered for her? Prim: That’s a really difficult question, and I’m grateful it didn’t happen that way. In the end, I probably would have. The one thing that scares me even more than my own death is Katniss’. It would kill me (ha! See what I did there? Okay, I’ll admit that was immature of me and not funny at all) to watch Katniss die on live television. I could never put myself through all of that suffering. I’d volunteer purely in the interest of protecting my sister. However, I’m eternally grateful Katniss volunteered for me, because I don’t think I’d have the strength and courage to win the Hunger Games like she did. Interviewer: What was it like working with two Victors? Effie: You think it would be absolutely incredible. It wasn’t. I hate to rain on the fans’ parade, but it was the opposite. Once two ordinary teenagers win the Games, arrogance
comes to them and goes to their heads. They think they’re the greatest people on Earth and nothing can destroy them. When they are selected to compete again in the Quell, they have more confidence because they think since they already won, it’ll be a walk in the park Maybe that’s the reason Katniss barely escaped the arena alive the second time. Interviewer: Johanna, what was your reaction to being reaped for the Third Quarter Quell? Johanna: It was the best thing that could’ve happened After I won my first Games, fame was my best friend. I had publicity following me everywhere. It was an instant celebrity moment. I loved it because as a girl, I was that loser everyone loved to pick on. But then my victory became old news and attention shifted to the next Games. When the opportunity came to return to the arena, I couldn’t pass on the chance. Interviewer: What do you think of D13’s fashion sense? Octavia: Are you kidding me? It’s so dull and boring. They ought to at least dye their hair or color their skin. Interviewer: Annie, what’s the best part about being married to Finnick? (And if you think being married to him isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll gladly take him off your hands.) Annie: I guess I should just keep this conversation PG and say his gorgeous looks. I mean, who could say “no” to that beautiful tan skin, bronze hair, and stunning sea-green eyes? I sure couldn’t, which is why I’m so lucky he’s my husband. That’s pretty much all I have to say. Oh, just remember to keep your hands off of my man! Steal a man from someone your own size! By Apollo “Red Carpet Smile,” Illustration by Selene
Fifty Now By
Years
From
Nemesis
I’m not sure when exactly these catastrophic events happened. Most of the information I’ve been told was from the elders during story time. As children, the elders told us about the world they lived in fifty years ago. How the world had clean air, but then people abused it and pumped millions of tons of noxious chemicals into the air. These depleted the ozone layer. Many environmental groups made an effort to clean it up, but it didn’t succeed, because many people still didn’t cooperate. People who were driven by greed and money still continued the running of factories and manufacturing of goods corrupting the ozone layer even more. Then one day, the ozone layer was seventy percent gone, and asteroids, UV rays, and many other disasters happened. Nothing could stop it. It was too late. As a result, the Earth was scarred by the elements from the universe, and human life ceased to be as it was. Now fifty years later, I, Shana, live in this scarred world. It is still inhabited by humans, but many of the creatures living here have mutated due to radia-
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“The Watcher,” Illustration by Selene
tion from the sun and nuclear deposits from viral warfare. Many people still try to amend the ways of their predecessors by researching how to improve the environment, but I think it will take a long time before the Earth is healed, and after that, humans will repeat their errors again. I don’t know. I can only hope the world will get better… It only seems to get worse. I hear a voice some distance away. Who…is it?
“Shana, wake up. How long are you going to lie there? It’s already 8:30. If you don’t get up, we’re going to miss breakfast.” I open my eyes and peer up at the boy who has woken me from my slumber. “Okay, Matthew,” I say. I get up and go to a separate compartment to change out of my sleeping garments and then I quickly grab my gear and rush to breakfast.
To be continued…
“Sailor’s Warning,” Photograph by Hades
“After Midnight,” Photograph by Athena
First Steps
Only because He had stepped away from it. By The Owlish Bookworm Head swinging back and forth, He took a step— Silky soft curls bouncing, too. And then fell down, Bright, sparkling eyes Face widening into a toothless grin, Beaming at his audience As he gave a delighted laugh, As if laughing at their held breath And clapped his chubby hands. At their anticipation. But for those few seconds, Then with them, He was walking. When their screams of excitement And “Did you see that’s” exchanged, Steps forward Toes gripping the ground, Looking so content and pleased Like they’d never let go, Not knowing he had made history. Little baby body swaying, Only knowing that we were happy, Like a willow in the wind And so he was, too. Arms wind milling at his sides, For those precious moments, Reaching for a wall that wasn’t there. My little brother stood A wall not there And took his first steps.
Hope and Justice by Hades When I hold you within my arms, Your baby’s breath drifts past my face, Alights my heart and warms my core, And soothes my heart a slower pace. I love you like I’ve never loved, A love I know will never cease. Your smile is hope, your laugh is grace. Your soul is just, your touch is peace.
Each day you grow and grow and grow, O time flies by so fast, it seems. I watch from far away, alone, Where you are only just a dream. Someday again I know we’ll meet, But you shall not remember me. Still know I love you evermore, Yes, more than anything, you’ll see. I love you more than moon loves night,
I love you more than sun loves spring. I love you more than trees love wind, E’en more than sparrows love to sing. When I hold you in my arms next, I hope you know I love you so. When I hold you in my arms next, I’ll never want to let you go.
Dedicated to my darling baby cousins.
“Faces of Innocence,” Illustrations by Hecate
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Calypso’s Island Ah, November, when National Novel Writing Month, or, as it’s more commonly known as, NaNoWriMo, takes place. As a first year NaNoWriMo participant, I was ecstatic about the challenge of writing a 50,000 word novel in a single month. Then, of course, came the matter of getting started. All of a sudden the project seemed rather daunting, and thus the procrastination process began. I’ve found that in most projects I undertake, there is at least a little procrastination involved. Whether it is taking a longer snack break than necessary or convincing myself that I really DO need to look at that latest Facebook update, I find ways to avoid work that needs to be done. Unfortunately for me and all the other procrastinators out there, that work really does need to be completed, which leads to long nights with little to no sleep. The simple truth of the matter is that putting off work doesn’t, in any way, lessen your workload. If anything, it makes completing your work even more difficult because you’re forced to do the same amount of work in less time. Now, when it comes to procrastinating on schoolwork, don’t let that passing grade on the project you last procrastinated on fool you. IT’S A TRAP! It makes it easy to think that you can procrastinate on your next project without any trouble, but what you have to keep in mind is that those sleepless nights just aren’t worth the hours of internet surfing, snacking, and avoiding work that needs to be done. So, my dear reader, I wish you the best of luck on keeping on top of your work, and I’ll see you next month.
“Monster in the Locker,” Illustration by Hecate
His Name is Blood: Two By Hades My bed is warm and toasty in the autumn chill, and I sigh in contentment as I snuggle deeper into my cocoon. After a few seconds, my eyes snap open when I realize my linen sheets are now silken, and my cottonstuffed comforter is now lined with velvet. I throw the offending blankets away from me and sit up, staring at my unfamiliar surroundings. The tiny but cozy bedroom I’ve had my entire life has been replaced by a room easily four times its size, filled with white and pale blue furniture that looks like something out of a storybook. I get up from the large canopy bed, and my feet sink into the plush, exotic rug. I tiptoe over to the French windows and draw back the drapes of one of them to reveal a vast yard, lush gardens, and beyond it all, a forest that, in the morning mist, seems to never end. “Oh, no…” My legs give in, and I fall back down on my rear as the events of last night flood into my mind. “Hello, Lorelei. My name is Blood.” The most infamous man in New Hamelin history smiled at me. At this point, I was starting to break free of his hold on me – or more likely, he was allowing me to slip through. “Let…me go.” “No. Would you care for a drink? Some wine, perhaps?” “Why am I here?” “Maybe tea or coffee is more to your taste. I have some excellent Earl Grey.” “LET ME OUT –” My lips moved, but no sound emerged from my mouth. “There are people trying to sleep, you know,” Blood
said dryly, placing a delicately carved crystal glass of water in front of me. “You may speak again once I answer your question. You were the one who made the raspberry bread, were you not?” …What? I nodded. “Good. It would have been troublesome if I needed to lure your father over, too. You see, Lorelei, that pastry brought back some pleasant memories of my childhood.” He gestured at an empty paper bag on his desk, and I recognized it as the one from my father’s bakery. “I usually do not have much of a sweet tooth. However, your baking skills impress me greatly, and my current chef, while excellent at other aspects of culinary arts, is only passable at baking. So I brought you here to be my new pastry chef. Any questions?” My voice returned to me at last. “You can’t just abduct someone and expect them to work for you!” “Why not?” “It – It’s wrong, for one thing, and for another, why would I want to work for you after you kidnapped me?” My throat was dry. I reluctantly picked up the glass of water. “My dear Lorelei, I am certain you have heard of the many tales of my kidnapping many people for the past century? Well, they are all true. Clearly, I have no scruples about the law or morals. As to why you would want to work for me… Frankly, there is no way you will ever leave this house without my permission, and should you refuse to fulfill your duty or perform unsatisfactorily, I am under no obligation to keep you alive.” His words rang in my ears, as did the sound of the crystal
“Muse,” Illustration by Selene
glass shattering on the floor. “You are tired, Lorelei. Go to bed.” I rise from the floor of my new cell and yank the drapes closed. There’s a draft in the room, and I shiver as I look for a jacket or blanket to wrap around my me. I pull out the drawer of the dresser and eye the neatly folded shirts lying inside. After a moment’s deliberation, I sigh and scavenge an outfit together. I’d rather wear clothes my host provides than wander around in my pajamas. The wardrobe suits my taste surprisingly well, and I find a violet sweater, jeans, and shoes that look as if they could’ve come from my closet. (Thankfully, I’m confident they aren’t, because the sweater is made of a very rich
fabric, possibly cashmere, and I’d never be able to afford it on my own.) My hand rests on the door handle. I wonder if it’s locked as I press down. It gives way, and the door silently opens. My heart hammers in my chest, and I slowly step over the threshold. The hallway is long, the ceiling high, and lacy, ghostlike curtains flutter against the endless row of windows. I’m at the end of the hall, so I muster up my courage and begin walking. Soon I hear the sound of dishes clinking and water splashing, along with quiet humming. I inch along the wall before poking my head around the corner, and I see
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HNIB cont. the entrance to what must be the kitchen. Inside is a man washing the dishes, and while I’m trying to assess whether he’s a threat, he seems to sense my staring and turns around. “Hey, you must be Lorelei. I’m Rem.” I shrink back, but Rem, who looks like he’s in his early thirties, has a warm smile that reminds me of my father’s, and I relax. “Yeah, how did you know?” “Blood told me.” Immediately, I stiffen again. “Did he?” Rem places a saucer in the dishwasher to dry. “Let’s talk for a minute, Lorelei. There’s a lot you have to know.” A plate of omelet and croissant is waiting on the table, and Rem brings out tea as I start on my breakfast. The eggs are delicious, but the croissant is a bit heavy. “I know you’re upset right now, but believe me when I say there’s really “Lorelei,” Illustration by Chronos
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no way out of this house unless Blood lets you leave.” “Have you tried to escape before?” Rem hesitates. “I’ve… never seen the need. I’m the only person, besides Blood, allowed out of the house. I buy food from town and generally run all the errands.” “Why on Earth would you come back here?” “You know no one can leave New Hamelin. Blood would just come after me again and…bad things would happen.” “Then how do you know Blood isn’t lying and there really is a way out?” “There are…other people living in this house. One or two of them have tried to escape in the past, but they can never get past the front door.” “That’s ridiculous.” I stand up. “In a house this big, he’s got to have forgotten a window or door.” I try the kitchen door, but it doesn’t budge.
I search for the lock. There isn’t one. Scowling, I stalk out of the room. “Good luck.” Rem sounds like he’s humoring me. After a few twists and turns and dead ends, I find the front door and tug on the handle. It doesn’t move. I dash over to a window and try to open it. Same story. On impulse, I pick up an antique chair and hurl it with all my might at the glass. The chair bounces off the windowpanes and clatters on the floor. A strangled cry escapes my throat. I spend the next hour desperately searching for an exit, but to no avail. My hands and fingers are sore from prying and pulling at doorknobs and window ledges, and I’m about to scream when I realize where I am. Somehow, I’ve found my way back to Blood’s study. The door is open just a crack, and I see red as I barge my way inside. The room is emp-
ty. I stomp my foot and fold my arms in a huff, resisting the urge to smash everything in sight as I begin pacing. I stumble a bit as one of the tiles sinks down, and my eyes widen when I see a portion of the wall sliding back, revealing a secret room. I gulp, and my feet start turning toward the door out of the study. But my curiosity is stronger than my sense of self -preservation, and I change my mind and creep over to the secret room. It’s a small space, but it’s crammed full of dusty books and scrolls, glass vials, and mysteriously glowing artifacts. I squint at the spine of one of the tomes, tattered and yellowing. Magicka Hypnotica: The Arte of Compulsion and Mind Control. The rest of the books are all titled along the same lines. Either Blood thinks the idea of magic is really cool, or… Or… I pick up one of the glass vials. Breath of Hypnos, the label in spidery writing reads. White mist swirls inside the container, and my eyes droop tiredly just looking at it. I hear a loud thud, and I instinctively slip the bottle into my pocket before spinning around, a split second before Blood appears in the entrance to the secret room, eyes glowing red. “What are you doing here?” he snarls. “I – I was –” “Get out before I change my mind about letting you live.” His hand wraps around my arm in a vice-like grip, and I’m yanked into the study then thrown unceremoniously into the hall. He slams the door shut behind me. The glass vial in my pocket is still intact. To Be Continued...