| Letter From the Editor |
Dear Reader, I decided to create this literary magazine as my final project for my Editing and Publishing class. My hope in this project was to bring together a variety of artists, both in word and in image. Allowing people the opportunity to express themselves and share their work. The majority of the submissions are from my Tumblr followers from all across the United States, some even from other countries. I hope to continue this project as long as I have the time and people continue to express an interest. Submissions for the second issue are now open and will remain so until March 9, 2014. If you want to be published in the next issue, please send any and all submissions to thechippedcupsubmissions@aol.com. I hope you enjoy this first issue of The Chipped Cup. Happy Reading! Molly Miller Editor
| Table of Contents | | Poetry | Everywhere Taylor Bayne
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Nice Enough Cat Perkins
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About The Man I Don’t Know Yet Rebecca Ritz
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It’s Easy To Forget a.g
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What’s On Your Mind E.C. Schneiderman
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| Prose| The Tightrope Shaina Gilks
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No Control Molly Miller
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| Art / Photography | One Day...Today! Colleen
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Somebody That I Used To Know... CBM
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Morning, Mary Angela Rothmeier
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I Just Can’t Get Enough CBM
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Free Hugs Megan
7 Cover Art by: rainakthx
| Everywhere | Taylor Bayne | I love you I love you in English rainy, accented days large moors, stone castles, raincoats and Wellingtons je t'aime I love you in French buttered pastries and iron towers seaside and riverside, merlot on the lips and Edith Piaf in my ear te quiero I love you in Spanish guitars strumming and flamenco dancers turning, your tongue tastes of sangria and sunny days in Barcelona ti amo I love you in Italian bread baking and parmesan melting rich operas and creamy ricotta, I long for the taste of chocolate ganache, from your skin ich liebe dich I love you in German the taste of heavy beer and the heady scent of your cologne, on walks through Berlin I love you in English in French in Spanish in Italian 2
in German my love transcends oceans I love you I love you at home knit sweaters and pots of tea the sound of your feet on the hardwood and the sweet cacophony of your cooking soundtrack I love you everywhere
One Day...Today! Colleen
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| The Tightrope | Shaina Gilks | In the middle of the night while all the Unscathed souls blindly sleep, the Scarred walk a tightrope. They cautiously tread the long steel stretch until their feet crack and bleed. Sometimes they look behind into the vast, black nothing with tears in their eyes. They desperately search for anyone else who might feel the same strain in their empty hearts. But the black and the tears impair their vision, and they walk alone. Sometimes they fall as they look behind. Sometimes they slip when their tears grow too heavy. And sometimes the rope breaks, sending them down without enough time to activate their parachutes. The tightrope looms before them, unending, and inescapable. It becomes too dark to see their own feet in front of them and they cry, and start to doubt their sense of balance. They start to think perhaps the Unscathed were right when they told the Scarred they were worthless. When they told them their Scars were too ugly to love. But the morning always comes. And arms of sunlight carry the Scarred back to the beds where they wake without sleep. They pass through classrooms and corridors with their heads down, willing themselves to crumple into nonexistence. Because they try so hard. So, so, so hard to win, but some unfathomable, invisible force stifles their struggles time and time again until the trying stops. And I know. I am Scarred. I spend my sleepless nights walking that tightrope with tears in my eyes. And my feet may be cracked, and my heart may bleed, and those infernal nights may leave me broken, but I refuse to stop trying. I refuse to succumb to the words and the bruises and the pain the Unscathed hurl in my path. Because I still have faith that some lonely night when the tears weigh me down, I will look behind me, and meet a pair of heavy eyes.
Somebody That I Used To Know‌
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| Nice Enough | Cat Perkins | I don't know what else to tell you other than the fact that I've been crying over you (yes, you) for almost two hours now (it hasn't been non-stop but more like short bursts of sadness) and I really wish I knew what you were thinking (or maybe it would kill me) but the idea of knowing is nice enough to keep me going.
Morning, Mary Photographed by Angela Rothmeier
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| About The Man I Don’t Know Yet | | Rebecca Ritz | Loving him is like watching the grey sky becoming blue in spring, when the first flowers bloom in all their colors and the birds are singing in the trees. Loving him is like a lazy summer day, when the sun is shining down on your face and the air smells like the upcoming rain. Loving him is like a rainy day in autumn, when you are sitting at home with a cup of tea and reading a book, you fell in love with at the first sentence. Loving him is like waking up to the first snow in winter, when the Christmas lights are shining in the streets and the smiles of the people are real.
I Just Can’t Get Enough
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| It’s Easy To Forget | a.g | The little things like How you whispered my name Your breath in my ear Your nose on my cheek My hand in your hair Your hands on my waist The beating in your chest The warmth of your arms And your neck on mine The look in your eyes Before you kissed me That first time
Free Hugs Photographed by Megan
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| No Control | Molly Miller | “Granny you have to lock me up, it’s not safe for me to be out at night.” Slam. I am brought back to the now. The steel beam slides into place, securing me inside the old bomb shelter under my house. “Thanks Granny.” I whisper, though I am sure she cannot hear me. Calming breaths as I sit huddled in the furthest corner. In and out. In and out. This was my idea, my choice. Safe. Everyone in town is safe. If I just remain here for the night. I must stay away from everyone, stay locked up tight until the sun rises. My skin has been itching all day, I know what is coming. The room is now shrouded in darkness. The flickering flame of the candle has long since burned out. My eyes glow in the darkness, reaching to see what is right in front of my face. The only sound to permeate the thin air is the thundering beat of my heart. It pounds in my ears as the pace quickens. I can feel the change, it is fast approaching. It won’t be long now. The thump of my heart picks up speed all but racing out of my chest as it starts. The change is here, the hairs on my body begin to prickle, my skin tingles. I feel the stretch and pull in my bones as it begins. My body aches. The pain is excruciating, my organs shift and shrink within my body. I scream aloud, fighting the urge to pass out. The hair on my body is growing thicker, darker, coarser. I cringe back into my corner. Fighting the change. Remembering what happened last time. “Red, wake up.” Granny said shaking my shoulder. I sat up looking around me in confusion. “What happened? Why am I in the woods? Where are my clothes?” I looked down at my hands and saw blood. “Granny? What’s going on?” But Granny was not looking at me, I followed her eyes. Lying not far from me was a body, drenched in blood and unrecognizable. Though I have no recollection I somehow know that I did that. I shake my head as the memory clears. Safe, all is safe. Just stay here. The litany repeats in my head. Over and over still I fight against the change. My nails extend. Elongating and sharpening. Digging into the wooden beam onto which I cling. My head feels as if it will explode from the pressure of its extension. I release the beam as my spine elongates and I collapse onto all fours. The change is now complete. I let out a blood curdling howl. I snarl and growl at the barred door. Hunt. I need to hunt, feed. Trapped. Glistening canines flash and snap. Escape. I must escape, escape from this cage. This prison will not hold me. Must get out. Feed. Get out. I charge the door, hearing it rattle. Slash at the door. Nothing works. I collapse in my cage.
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When I awake it is over. I lay shivering on the cold stone floor, naked as the day I was born. Gone are the claws and the fangs, back is the recognition of reality. I have no memory of the night before. There is blood on my hands, instantly I begin to panic. Did it not work, was I able to escape. I look to the door and sigh in relief that it is still intact except for a few dents and four deep crevices that stretch across the steel. That would explain the blood and the bruises that I can feel covering by body. Everyone is safe. Safe from me. At least for now.
| What’s on your mind? | E.C. Schneiderman |
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