2013 Myriad

2 0 1 3 Faculty advisor Peter Marcoux

Editors Jannette Alvarez Julie K. Ames Michelle Avita Tatiana Medina Corrine Kosidlak Steve L. Swift Shirley Vong

Desi gn a n d Producti on Art 143 abcd Digital Design and Publishing

faculty advisor Joyce Dallal

cover art Shauna Jacobs Pauline Moss

Lead designers Shauna Jacobs Jaekyu Lim Linley Regalado

Myriad 2013 El Camino College Creative Arts Journal www.myriadecc.com Š 2013 El Camino College Humanities Division ISSN: 1934-3140

producti on m a n a gers Deborah Reynoso Jake Witt

production team Garrett Barnett Shauna Jacobs Jaekyu Lim Brandon Mays Deborah Reynoso Edson Vilela Jake Witt

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

mission statement Myriad showcases poetry, short stories and artwork from students of El Camino College. The journal, edited by English 98 students and designed by Art 143 sudents, strives to reflect the multifaceted diversity committed to provide equal opportunity for all individuals regardless ethnic group identification, nationalorigin, religion, age, sex, race, color, ancestry, sexual orientation, or physical or mental disability.

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acknowlegements The Myriad staff wishes to thank the following people for the commitment and support of Myriad: Joyce Dallal The Students of Art 143 The Union Newspaper Staff and Faculty Advisors The Humanities Division

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YOU MAY SUBMIT:

Be a part of the new myriad!

• One short story, with no more than 5,000 words • Up to three poems • Up to three pieces of artwork

Join us Spring 2104 for the Creative Arts Journal of El Camino College!

With every submission, please include: • Your full name • Your contact information • The title of each piece

The Myriad invites you to submit your poetry, artwork and short stories for the 2014 publication.

Email your entries to: the.myriad@gmail.com for consideration.

All written entries must be typed and submitted in .doc file format. All artwork must be submitted in .gif, .jpg, .bmp or .png format.

Submissions will be collected midway through the spring semester. (Usually during week 8)

Table of Contents 2 Celia P. Gomez

The World Always Looks Brighter Behind a Smile (Artwork)

3 Jermaine haynes

A Ghetto Symphony (Poem)

4 Midori Shinkai

Marie and her Children (Artwork)

5 Carlos Ornelas Delusions of the Ethnocentric (Poem)

8 Jeevan Hall Haikus (Poem)

9 Esayas Zerazion Cow Skull (Artwork)

10 Jennifer Hoover

Stained Sunflowers (Short Story)

21 Evelyn Siguenza The Complexity of Simplicity (Poem)

22 Jareth Bustamante Old Man (Artwork)

23 Corrine Kosidlak

A Sonnet in Class (Poem)

24 Grace Haynes

The Return (Artwork)

25 Anthony Rhone

Toward High Form (Poem)

28 Megumi Yuhara

The Brothers at Antietam (Short Story)

29 Camille Aligue

Fun in the Sun (Artwork)

30 Ana Ramirez

Escape (Artwork)

31 Jeffrey Johnson

Christmas at Fox Theatre (Artwork)

32 Kyle Borden

A Date With Mickey (Artwork)

44 Marco Aguilar R.A.P (Poem)

47 John Gatlin

Seven Sacred Pools (Artwork)

48 Elextrah Eze

To Granny (Poem)

50 Diante DeBarge

Jazz and Love Letters (Poem)

51 Saul Prado

Ghost Highway (Artwork)

52 Jannette Alvarez The Wall (Artwork)

53 Courtney Charpentier Him and Me (Poem)

33 Magda Nunez

54 Charlie James

35 Ethan Faulkner

55 Ruben UreÑa

36 Charles Ryder

56 Eric Chiang

Where’s Jesus (Poem)

The Park (Poem)

Jurassic Park (Artwork)

37 Anthony Chuy I Am (Poem)

39 Kevin O’Connell

How I Started the Riot at the Stonewall Inn (Short Story)

Karma (Artwork)

The Red Organ (Poem) Silence (Short Story)

60 Philip Prins

Through the Storm (Artwork)

61 Orlyn J. Matute

Laza and the Jelly Bean Escape (Artwork)

62 Troy Frederickson Flash Bang (Poem)

63 Jenna Starr

Mémoire (Artwork)

64 Corrine Kosidlak She (Short Story)

76 Daniel Cortes

Post Angelous (Artwork)

77 Paula Geerligs Black Ink (Poem)

78 Mark Mendez

Patiently Working (Artwork)

79 Duran Allison

The Dragonfly (Artwork)

Chan 57 Lysistrata Karch-Coar 80 Joanne See by Sea (Poem) Let Them Eat Snake (Artwork) 81 maricris saker As Dawn Breaks (Poem) 58 Glafira E. Carr Serenity (Artwork) 82 Editor Biographies 59 Andrew Phillips The Hurt (Poem)

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

THE WORLD ALWAYS LOOKS BRIGHTER BEHIND A SMILE

A Ghetto Symphony Jermaine Haynes

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I close my eyes My ears revealing a sanguine symphony The zombie like screams and moans of a man Crossing the intersection of life and death Violent gashes branded across his face Dripping delicately as he drops to the stale pavement His overdosed body convulses As he screams the ghetto symphony A cry for help.

Sweet sounds of bullets penetrates the temporal lobe As my eyes prepare for the full opening of what lies before me A body dressed in bullet wounds The stench of blood and gun smoke inflame my lungs His body painting the pavement a decadent red He is now a shell, but his eyes question me They say – Why? I was only 5 then, or maybe 6.

Now I find myself yawning with boredom of this symphony of blood and tears I’ve transitioned into numbness To the lyrical contents of …“come out with your hands up!”

Predictable – the serenading of ambulances and police cars outside my window No longer a curiosity to the damage that’s been done As the ghetto bird shines its spotlight It’s either someone’s been shot, dead, or on the run This repetitive numbness detriments my soul.

I close my eyes once again To hear the sweet sounds of This novella This drama This – Ghetto Symphony.

Jermaine Haynes

Celia P. Gomez

Celia P. Gomez

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Marie and her children Midori Shinkai

Delusions of the ethnocentric Carlos Ornelas

Delusions of the Ethnocentric: A Late Rebuttal To: “The White Man’s Burden” (Kipling 1899) Carlos Ornelas Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— Send forth the best ye breed— Unbind your sons from slavery And heed their master’s creed; Whose weight from heavy burden Has fluttered folk and child The heart that fed the people From feeble hands of vile.

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Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— The gentle peace of war Fulfill the mouths with famine And bid them back for more And when your goal is nearest The ends of others fought, Your foolish, heathen’s folly Supplanted hope for aught.

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— The gaudy rule of kings That views the turf and beings As sundry common things.

The doors ye shall not enter

Carlos Ornelas

Midori Shinkai

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— Inpatient hues reprise— Unveil the face of terror And dive into its eyes By broken speech and temple Unbounded times made gain To reap his brother’s pocket And profit from his pain.

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Nor borders shall ye cross Rebuke me solemn splendor For arrowed albatross.

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— And seep his old remorse The love from those ye hated Have aided those ye forced The cry of ghosts ye murdered (Ah slowly!) Toward the light ‘Why brought ye us from bondage, Our loved Egyptian night?’

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— And bare ye food for less Ye liberty and freedom Are teal in Hue and dress And all who cry and whisper From all ye failed to do Ye weight from heavy burden Ye self-hath wrought on you.

Delusions of a cross ye thought Ye lone been cursed to bear.

(Burden is the Hue of man, the only thing we hue-mans share).

P.X Sunday, March 18, 2012 *A late rebuttal to the poem titled “The White Man’s Burden”, written by the great poet Rudyard Kipling.

(Dedicated to none and to all; just another spontaneous overflow.) =P.X= {Art for Art’s Sake}

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Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— Embark it if ye dare No wisdom is existent To aid the ill-prepared.

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— And find there’s nothing there;

Carlos Ornelas

Carlos Ornelas

Take up the Hue-Man’s burden— Be gone from wildly craze The weighty, thorny crown, The harsh resentful ways, Comes now, to check your manhood For all your thankless years To taw your dear-bought system, With judgment of your peers!

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

haikus

cow skull

Jeevan Hall

Esayas Zerazion

hazy clattered day picturesque tributary lends perfect nature fluid movement, haste transient interaction lacking permanence

Jeevan Hall

camaraderie formed over time bond developed melancholy split

Esayas Zerazionďťż

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

stained sunflowers Jennifer Hoover

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Jennifer Hoover

Jennifer Hoover

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he sunlight burned against my skin. I sat in the shade, close enough to where Mother would still be able to see me as she planted sunflower seeds. The field around me bloomed with sunflowers, Mother’s favorite flower. The village loved them too. I looked out to the houses, where Father chopped wood and Brother helped carry the logs inside. I looked down at my bare feet, enjoying the fresh green grass between my toes.

“Finn!” I heard someone call out. I looked around and saw no one. From where I stood I caught the smell of burning wood.

“Finn!”

“Finn!” My eyes opened from the sudden yell. The sun burned through the window above my bed. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and grabbed my tunic from the floor. Hearing Jackril again I hurried down the stairs and into the parlor. “Sorry…” I groaned. I couldn’t help but yawn. It was too early in the morning.

Jackril stood before me with his arms crossed. I put on my vest and waited for his answer. He released his arms and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll let you take a break today since it was your birthday yesterday. I just need you to go feed the horses.”

“All right. Thanks, Jackril.” I grinned as I began walking towards the door.

“Hey, Finn,” I turned around and saw his smile.

“Call me father every now and then, will you?”

I smiled. No matter how many times he has told me to call him Father, I have never brought myself to actually say it. “Okay.”

I walked through the dirt and dying grass towards the stables, which were on the other side of the village. People walked by and said good morning to me as I simply nodded to them. I’m not a sociable guy. Most of the village knew that about me. Jackril knew me best, as my adopted father. For five years he raised me alone after his wife died of pneumonia. It’s been eight years since I was brought to the village.

I went into the stables, where the horses stood in their stalls begging for food. Living in the middle of a forest, finding a large sum of food was difficult, especially hay. With what was left from the year’s harvest I threw some hay in each stable with a shovel. From

behind me I heard giggling and a horse eating something crunchy.

I turned and saw the horse gnawing on half an apple. Kiara stood there smiling.

“We need those you know.” I told her. Apples were a delicacy.

“I know. This is why I take the seeds out before giving it to them.

So we plant new ones in the spring.” Kiara explained.

I took a look at her once more. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a braid with a black ribbon. Her green eyes gazed up at me as she smiled. Kiara could always make me smile.“So what do you have to do today?” I asked her, sitting against the back of the barn eating an apple. Kiara sat next to me with her legs crossed.

“Nothing, really. I picked the apples and Father needs to talk to me later.” She said with a solemn face. I could see the worry in her eyes.

“Do you know what it could be about?” I asked.

“Who knows? That man is always a mystery, even to me; and to Uncle.”

Kiara was the only child of the village’s leader, Merik. Her mother died when she was young, so she had to deal with that stubborn, selfish man her whole life. Jackril is her Father’s younger brother. For the past year she has dealt with the strictness of Merik because of the village’s troubles to come up with food and money. Other villages had stopped trading and sending supplies, and Merik was slowly coming to the conclusion that there was nothing that could be done. I knew that she was worried. I gripped her hand and squeezed, lessening her tension. She looked over to me and smiled.

That night, after a peaceful day of relaxing underneath shady trees, I went back home and found the house empty. I stripped down and jumped onto my bed, looking out the open window that looked out towards the north, where my home used to be. I wish I could remember what happened that caused me to come here. I laid back and felt the small scar across my hairline. I had gotten it after an accident six years ago. All my memories before that incident were erased. Since then I have been having dreams, showing short memories of mine to heal my amnesia. I looked up at the ceiling, and drifted into fog.

The trees were taller than before. I looked down at my feet and they were bare and muddy. I was alone in the darkened forest. Fog surrounded me. I looked up and found smoke rising above the treetops. I ran through the brush to find my village, flames spread-

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ing throughout the hay roofs and rice paper walls. I heard screaming, yelling, and the cheers of men riding on horses. I couldn’t move.

Fear rushed up my spine, making the crisp air feel hot against my skin. As the flames continued to destroy my home, the screaming and yelling ceased, but the cheering horsemen continued through the houses. I couldn’t cry as there was nothing that could come out. My body was overwhelmed by anger and disbelief. The sunflowers were gone instantly; their ashes blown away with the rest of my precious home. I didn’t think about whether or not some of the ashes were people. My body was now covered in them.

The last remaining horsemen galloped towards me, and I was still unable to move. I was frozen. I could see that they were from another village, the one on the other side of the valley. My face was left without emotion as I was unable to make tears. The man who seemed to be the leader got off his horse and approached me.

“Was this your home, boy?” he asked me, his deep voice echoed through my mind.

All I could do was nod.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Ten…” He’s going to kill me. He killed everyone else in the village, why keep me alive? I was nothing special. My dark hair was unwashed and spiked out like thorns. My trousers were ripped and cuffed midcalf. My tunic was unbuttoned and swallowed my slim figure. I looked like a poor boy covered in ash. The man took his fur-trimmed coat and bent down to cover me in its warmth.

“Have you always had the look of death across your face?” He asked, smiling.

I didn’t know what he was talking about.

He turned to the other men, who still sat on their restless horses and signaled them to leave. The man standing before me bent down to meet my eyes. His were a royal blue color.

“I have a daughter about your age, her name is Kiara,” he told me. “I am sorry for your family’s death, but a new home is waiting for you, if you are willing to take it.” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me.

“Why did you do this?” My thoughts escaped through my uneven breath. The man looked down on me, thinking of what to say. It seemed like he didn’t expect me to say that.

“Survival of the fittest. Your village was a rival that I had to stop,” he said. “But you, you survived.” His small grin made my heart sink.

I felt the tears finally starting to drip onto my dry cheeks. The fog

suddenly started to clear. A tiny gold flicker caught my attention as I drifted away from the fog. The shape was familiar. The ceiling was bleak, and the fog outside was thick and grey. The tears were cold, dripping from my swollen eyes. My heart couldn’t stop racing. That dream, it was so clear and real. I felt the scar against my hairline. I remember now. My amnesia is wrapped around that memory of when I was found. When my family was killed, and my village destroyed.

The gold flicker was an object from six years ago. I remember clearly now. I knelt down at the bottom of my closet where an old metal chest was kept hidden beneath the layers of old clothes. I unlatched the hinge that kept it shut for years. I now remembered the unfinished business I began six years ago. It was Merik who gave me the scar. Six years ago I was close to getting my revenge on him for killing my family and destroying my home. But I wasn’t ready then. I wasn’t mentally prepared to kill a man. Instead he took a hilt to my head, knocking me out cold. From then on I had forgotten my plot of vengeance. I opened the chest, unveiling the dagger I had made purposely for that reason.

The hilt was made from metal and covered with thick straps of black leather. The blade was still sharp at both edges. It still shined against the candlelight. I put it back in its leather sheath and hid it beneath the various papers and books that were at the bottom on the chest. I closed the latch and shut the closet doors. I sat on the floor, staring up at the doors for what felt like hours. Images flashed inside my mind. The sunflowers grew beneath the sunlight, then quickly disappeared into grey ashes in the mist of fog and smoke. Bodies mangled, houses burning, and then I was ten again.

A small, weak boy covered in ashes and doubt.

I took a deep breath. It was a dream, a vivid one at that, but now it’s eight years later. Will I still be able to get the revenge that I yearned for? Am I strong enough? Would revenge solve anything now? I hate Merik, there’s no doubt about that, but to kill him? I sighed and slowly stood up to finish getting dressed.

I walked towards the middle of the village where Merik’s home stood on wooden stilts and stone. I popped my head out of the edge from another house to see if anyone was outside. Instead, Kiara stood outside the door, in front of her father who stood tall within the door frame. His large stomach had grown throughout the years. His beard had grown longer and greyer. His wavy hair dangled past his shoulders in an oily braid. Kiara stood before him and looked distraught.

Jennifer Hoover

Jennifer Hoover

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Merik shake his head in disproval. I stepped forward and came to her side. Merik’s eyes wandered from her bloodshot ones and stared down at me. I glared back as I wrapped an arm around Kiara’s shoulder.

“Finn,” Merik said with a flat tone. “I know I can trust you with her.

Make sure she follows orders.” He turned his heel and shut the door behind him. At that moment Kiara lost her composure and wrapped her arms around me, burrowing her head in my chest. I laid my cheek against the top of her head.

“I take it the talk with your Father yesterday didn’t go so well, huh?” I patted the crown of her head. I felt her nod. “What did he say?”

She stepped back and looked at the door. “He made a deal with another village in the marshlands.”

The marshlands were far away; across the mountain range and further past more forests plains. It was odd that Merik would even speak to those villages. I grabbed her cheeks, warming them with my palms to bring the color back into them. She was pale, and her bloodshot eyes became tearful again. “Kiara,” I said softly. “What’s happening?” She sniffled and took and held her breath to keep from crying. I didn’t let go of her tear-stained cheeks.

“That bastard...” she choked through tears. “Sold me.”

My heart ached. Was this the same feeling I had six years ago?

No, this was stronger. Here I was looking into the face of the victim, her beautiful green eyes were swollen in pain, her face now taking in the only comfort that she had. Her face burrowed into my chest again, now crying rapidly as she held me close. How could she be sold off to a village in the marshlands? I couldn’t think of it, it only made the pit of my heart burn.

I glared up at the door Merik was standing in. That bastard selling his own daughter, princess of the village, to strangers? I held her, protecting her in my arms where she should stay. I loved her. I took her away from her house to the stables, where she sat against the logs and wiped her tears and snot with her sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t,” I told her. I paced in front of her. My anger was taking control of me. I sought revenge six years ago because he killed my family, and now this? Taking away Kiara? I will not allow it. Merik had to be stopped. She’s not going anywhere.

“Finn?” Kiara asked, watching me pace around in a small circle.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe this,” I told her.

“The council knows too.”

“So Jackril knows about this?” I took a breath and watched Kiara look down at her lap. She had stopped crying, but my anger wasn’t helping her cope with the fear of going to another village against her will. I knelt down in front of her and grabbed onto her shoulders, making her look up at me.

“I will not let them take you,” I told her. “Do you hear me?”

“Finn…” she tried to stop me from going on any further.

“No,” I said, learning in so our foreheads touched. “I will not let them take you away from me.” She didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes and leaned into my chest, hugging me. I embraced her and kissed the top of her head.

We rested until her eyes were bright green again. The skies, on the other hand, became worse. The clouds were thick, dark and grey. I kept my arm around Kiara until we reached her house, where she wrestled out of my grip and ran to the door. Before she opened it I called her name.

“Kiara,” I said. She looked back and relaxed. “When do you leave?” The thought wouldn’t leave my mind. I had to know. She looked around us to see if there was anyone who could hear.

“The day after tomorrow, in the morning,” she told me. “Some men are coming to pick me up.”

I nodded and allowed her to go inside. Her answer twisted and turned in my mind, like a nail that wouldn’t pierce a slab of wood.

The rain began to fall as I came up to my house. As I stepped inside, a warm breeze blew into my face and I was comforted by it.

As I slipped off my boots, I was welcomed by Jackril. His crossed arms and gazing eyes didn’t give me much hope that I would receive a happy welcome.

“Hello.” I said.

“Merik said he saw you today.” He said.

“Yes,” I answered. “So?” “Did you hear the news?” He asked. “About Kiara?” His eyes suddenly became soft.

My heart choked up as the subject was brought up. This wasn’t something I wanted to talk about to Jackril. He can’t know of my plan of vengeance. I crossed my arms and nodded.

“Yeah, she told me.” I said.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” he told me. “I know how close you are with her. You two would have been perfect together in the future.” That wasn’t something I needed to hear. Was he trying to comfort me?

All it did was fill my heart with more pain. Now there was no time to waste.

Jennifer Hoover

Jennifer Hoover

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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“Why, Jackril? Do you believe that what your brother is doing is right?” I asked him. I had trouble regaining my breath. Jackril’s eyes widened, and his face softened.

“I have to follow my brother, Finn,” he told me. “He’s the leader of this village and…”

“And? The rest of the village lives in fear because of Merik. You would be a much better leader than that bastard.” I didn’t regret anything that I said. Jackril would be a better leader. The village would prosper and live happily, and not have to worry about starving during the winter.

Jackril noticed my silence, patted my shoulder and then walked into the other room. I hurried upstairs where I shut my door and laid down on my bed, contemplating on what the hell I was going to do. The dream I had last night, Kiara now being sold and leaving, everything is so mixed up. I pulled my quilt over my head, covering myself in darkness where I could relax. There was nothing I could do to stop Merik from giving her away. He’s way too selfish to even think about giving his daughter the happy life that she deserves. There was no way I could get my childhood back; it had already been soiled in nothing but flames and ash-colored tears.

“Finn?” The darkness suddenly turned bright as I threw the quilt away from me. Kiara stood in my room, rain water dripping from her night dress. The thin fabric was soaked. Her long hair dangled like threads against her chest. She looked petrified.

“Kiara? Shit.” I was shocked at her appearance. I grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around her. I began rubbing her arms and back so she could stop shaking from the cold. “What happened?”

I asked her.

She took a deep breath.

“They’re early…” she whispered. Her green eyes swelled up with tears. “I’ll be leaving with them in the morning.”

I backed away, silent. She continued.

“I don’t know what to do,” she started to cry, much more than before. She was shaking so much that the quilt fell to the floor.

“Can I stay here for the night? Please?”

I picked the quilt up and wrapped it around her again.

“Does your father know you’re here?” I asked her. She shook her head.

“I ran out when he told me.”

I nodded and made her sit on my bed. She used the quilt as a handkerchief. She was a messy crier. I didn’t know what to do. I had way too much to do before I could do anything successful.

“Where’s Merik now?” I asked her.

“He’s with the men,” she said. She shook her head as her face fell into her hands. “I don’t want to go with them. They have long beards and hair. They are barely wearing anything. They smell like dead cattle, and they have markings on their skin that are drawn with blood,” She was panicking, and the anger within me kept on building up. “I don’t want to go somewhere with men like that.”

I grabbed the sides of her face. Her eyes stared directly at mine.

I wiped a tear away with my thumb. “You’re not going anywhere.” I told her.

“But how?” she questioned. I shook my head.

“We will find a way. I promise. Trust me,” I told her. “I am not letting you go anywhere. I’d rather kill than have you as anyone else’s.”

“But I don’t want you to kill for me….” I stopped her before she could continue.

“Do you trust me?” I asked her. She sniffed and nodded.

I held her as we laid in bed together, for the first time ever. I never thought that the first time I would have a woman in bed would be like this, thinking about killing the father of the girl I love. I haven’t even been able to tell her that. I love her. I looked down at her calm, sleeping face that cuddled the side of my chest. I looked out the window and saw that the rain had calmed down, but it was dark. It’s probably midnight at least. Merik and his guests are probably fast asleep now. This would be the only time I could do it.

I looked down at Kiara once again. I slowly moved my arm from underneath her and put my clothes on. I opened the closet and quickly gathered the dagger and shoved it into the back of my trousers. Kiara didn’t move at all, as though I was still there next to her, the place where I want to be forever. I leaned over her and gently moved hair back from her face. Looking into her beautiful face I kissed her cheek. I didn’t look back at her as I left the room.

It wasn’t as cold as it was earlier, or maybe I was just hot from scurrying through the various houses until I got to Merik’s. Out of all the dark houses, his was the only one which had a dim light still on inside. He’s still awake, probably still welcoming the unwanted guests. Why he would even make a deal with those kinds of people is beyond me. Kiara’s description of them made me want to throw up.

I knew that the front door wasn’t the only way to enter the house.

The house also had a back door that led into the meeting room where the council members would gather. Moving swiftly and silently I came up to the window of that room, and saw that the

Jennifer Hoover

Jennifer Hoover

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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light in there came from a single candle in the middle of the table. I looked through the corner of the glass and saw Merik sitting comfortably at one end of the table and two dark-haired men on the other. The description fitted them perfectly.

One of the strangers held out a leather satchel and dropped it onto the table. The satchel opened as it hit the wood, revealing the gold and silver coins that it held. Merik’s eyes wandered to the coins.

A sly smile came across his face. That was what he wanted. He really did sell his daughter. My heart burned, I want to kill that man. I want to kill those men, for their greed and taking Kiara from me. By the looks of them, I don’t even want to know what they would do to her.

She was precious and fragile. They were rough-skinned and filthy.

I had to wait until they were asleep though. I sat down in the cold mud, watching out for any guards or wild animals. The candlelight went out after a few minutes of waiting. I heard Merik leave the room, probably to go off into his own bed. I peeked through the window again and saw the guests lying on a few blankets on the floor. I stepped back and brought the sheath out from my trousers.

After a few minutes of waiting until I knew they were fast asleep, I slowly opened the door, leading me into the final stage. I came up to the sleeping men and kneeled down to cut the throat of the first man.

The curve of the dagger made it easy. As I sliced through the skin, and saw my first glimpse of the deep red blood, I felt alive. I was able to hear my heartbeats through my fingertips, hearing it clearly in my mind. It was as though I was gaining strength from the sight of his death. It wasn’t until I looked over at the next man that my heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t there. Shit.

I stood up before the dead man and looked around in the dark room. I controlled my breathing so I could hear my surroundings. It was silent. Dead silent. I looked behind me, nothing. Where is that other one? Dammit. This could have been faster if he was here. I took a step forward, and another. I heard nothing but the sound of my deep breaths.

As I took another step, I heard another step from the dark hallway in front of me. I held my bloodied dagger out. Calm down, Finn. I thought. You’re almost…..whoosh! An ax flew just inches away from my face. I was quick enough to duck down to my knees, being able to look up at the second man now sprinting towards me. As the ax began to fall down towards me, I took the dagger and pierced it through his abdomen. The shock of the stab caused him to drop and fall down to his knees. Blood fell onto the floor as he gasped for air.

He looked at me in fear as I stood up. I watched him as he fell to his side, and took his last gasp of air.

As the moonlight still shined through the windows, I made my way towards Merik’s room. The light from the crack underneath the door told me that he was still awake. I took a deep breath. This is it. What do I say to him? How do I confront him? My hand shook as I grasped the knob and entered the room.

The candlelight seemed as bright as the sun. The fireplace burned furiously across the room. I took another step and looked around. Merik was lying on his bed, still wearing his robe, eyes wide open. I came to his bed and saw his yellowed eyes gaze up at the ceiling. His mouth was open, and his body was still. I was silent. The second man must have done this.

I gazed at his hand, which held the leather satchel of gold and silver. The coins were still in their place. I suppose the guests didn’t want their money back. The bottom of the satchel was soaked in blood. I picked it up and unveiled a stab wound. I was emotionless. I had killed two men, but they were kind enough to do my last kill for me, without even knowing it.

I looked down at Merik’s face for one last moment; a look of despair was plastered over his face. I glared down at him as I picked up the satchel and wrapped the rope around my shoulder. The bag was heavy.

“She’ll be happier with me,” I told his dead body. I grabbed his hand and traced a mark onto his cold skin. “And this is for my family.” I placed the bloodied dagger onto his wound and the freshmarked hand on top of it. Blood ran down the back of his hand, from the shape of a sunflower I etched into his skin. I gripped the satchel tight and went out of the house from the back door. The cold air has never felt so warm. It almost felt like summer again.

Kiara still slept where I left her. The sun would come up in a short while, just enough time for us to gather some things and leave. The village would think she was the one who killed them, and the punishment is death. I stripped away my sweaty, blood-smelling clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. Kiara turned over and sat up, her eyes were still half-closed when she looked at me.

I touched her cheek. “We need to go.” I said with a smile.

“What?” she asked, still dazed.

“You’re free to go wherever you want. Neither your Father or those men can bother you anymore.” I told her. Kiara looked at me, her brows wrinkled as she tried to make sense of what I was

Jennifer Hoover

Jennifer Hoover

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

the complexity of simplicity Evelyn Siguenza

We attach too much to too little We forget to acknowledge the faithful We over analyze a gesture to the point of no return We take the long way We take the short way We are contradicting We are conceding We think too much We feel too little We try to understand things and people without understanding ourselves We aren’t conformed to black and white We need diversity We have too much diversity, it’s pulling us apart We need to be constrained back to black and white We need.

We want.

We nag.

We cry.

We give.

We take.

We know.

We don’t know.

When did being so simple become so complicated?

I guess-I all I know is I know nothing.

Jennifer Hoover

telling her. She looked down and rubbed her nose. Her face relaxed, and she looked up again.

“We need to go before sunrise. I’ll get the horse,” I explained.

“Gather anything that we may need.”

“Finn…” she started.

“Yes?” I worried about what she was going to say.

“Can I borrow some pants?”

I chuckled in response. I wasn’t expecting that at all. She smiled and stood up from underneath the covers. I watched as she fixed her hair into a braid and started walking around the room to gather random things, shoving them into one of my bags. She was smiling the whole time. I always like to see her smile. Now she doesn’t have to worry. Now she knows she’s with me.

As we came down the dark stairway, I saw a glimpse of light against the door. Kiara hid behind me as Jackril stood in his nightclothes. We stood silent as Jackril looked up and down at us and I could have sworn I saw a smile.

“Go,” He told us. My heart skipped a beat. Jackril smiled. “My horse is behind that door. Go and live, I will take care of the rest.”

“Jackril…” I began.

He raised his hand. “No. The villagers will know that you escaped the wrath of my brother. I want you to go; you both deserve to be happy.”

Kiara smiled and gave Jackril a huge hug. I calmed my nervousness so I could at least say something. Kiara opened the door as I stepped forward towards Jackril. I wrapped my arms around him.

“Thanks, Father.” I told him as I closed the door behind us.

As we rode out of the village and into the foggy woods, I couldn’t help but think back to that summer day. Sunflowers grew all around us as I lay amongst the tall grass; Kiara now lying beside me, smiling as bright as the sun.

Evelyn Siguenza

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

old man Jareth Bustamante

a sonnet in class Corrine Kosidlak

Jareth Bustamante

Say not that Shakespeare is timelessly high in stature of poets I must observe Let me feel, let me taste words in my mind’s sigh; do not command my pen and ink to serve Your analysis of an art not meant to be opened by one mindset esteem’d in power by meaningless titles sent from high. No, sir professor, I have cleaned such debris they’ve thrown in my once young mind— To be or not, let me answer, as I’ve flushed out the damned spots that had stained me blind.

Your disdain appears where intellect thrives So I bite my thumb at you professor, And let this sonnet speak my mind no more.

Corrine Kosidlak

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

the return Grace Haynes

toward high form Anthony Rhone

Part One: A Thousand Cuts One on the right, one above the eye Another slit on the thigh.

Dab the flesh till it’s dry.

Hacking, slashing The procedure must continue. gnashing, thrashing Resistance, mentality clashing.

Dead eyed droning Jabbing, stabbing In the mirror, testing For loose bits and off markings.

Is it in my nature to do these things?

To chop, crack, grind and bend until the form is right Only to begin again, in the dead of night.

Now to trim the fat, close the blinds Mustn’t go out, until it’s time.

Peel the face, to remove the trace of every unsettling speck, and never break the pace.

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The creeping, the mad and sadness of this sordid display does indeed darken the day.

Stomach churning nostrils burning Black cauldron boiled over, what a mess, grinding unrest.

Anthony Rhone

Grace Haynes

Part Two: Light Through Cracks

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

There, the circling cause of my maddening rinse and scrub The face, the eyes, the wrist, the mouth over and over till it’s all marked out.

The joints are loose, the tendons bare I’m held together by a peculiar snare Where did it come from?

Mess taken in - from all, out.

So it must be cleansed.

Part 3: Re-inspection, Peculiar Keys Split-off, pull back, again A plot borrowed, from a recent plan scrapped, and salvaged some by my livid, fastidious hand.

With these vulgar indulgences I displayed a lack of heart, mistrust, of my own and that I own and began to fail in doing my part.

Peace, open adjustment free of confounding restraint spells for days well spent Should I tremble and wallow, I find in stillness, no reason to fret.

But means to see the ends met.

Faith they call it, trust it is, to heed and follow, and brave the seeming dark so that one may know, and embrace the flow.

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Smash, crash, burn, To cut off the hand that offends thee It seemed like a good deal to me Thought there was no reason to turn Oh, did I learn.

Cutting too deep, the muscle falls Progress slowed to a crawl This tendency, toward destruction ceases all considerable function

Anthony Rhone

Anthony Rhone

Damning Denial Black Bile, Then rose a choleric countenance all borne from this crooked, cone-eyed advance and that awkward stance.

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

the brothers at antietam Megumi Yuhara

Fun in the sun Camille Aligue

I

Megumi Yuhara

“ t’s cold today. How’re you holdin’ up, John?”

“Hanging in there. You?” “Just fine.”

He felt his friend shiver and knew that was a good sign. Slowly, he twisted his torso and draped an arm over his friend’s body to keep him from catching cold, though it was questionable what sort of damage the common cold could do to his poor soul.

“Remember those hot summer days when we would play cowboys and Indians?”

“We were always the good guys,” John said.

“I think we still are.”

Somewhere, off in the distance, he heard a muted pounding. It was so cold that even Thom pulled an arm across his body in order to keep from freezing. Looking over at John whose lips had begun to turn blue, Thom placed another arm on his friend’s chest to keep him warm too.

“It sure is cold today. You still hanging in there, John? John?”

He squeezed John’s hand which had gone limp and cold.

It was winter of 1862 in Maryland and, after being placed in the army hospital a week ago, they were discharged, so to speak, in a pile of mostly dead bodies. Thom and John had been through thick and thin together, and nothing would ever change that—not even when a war turned brother against brother. Thom quietly sighed to himself. Of all the diseases he suffered from, John’s was consumption; Thom’s: loyalty.

Camille Aligue

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

escape

Jeffrey Johnson

A na Ramirez

Ana Ramirez

Christmas at fox theatre

Jeffrey Johnson

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

a date with mickey Kyle Borden

where’s jesus Magda Nuñez

I found Jesus In the alley behind the liquor store on 7th.

He walked like the lost messiah, His head heavy, His shoulders down turned With the weight of a heavenly burden.

Upon his lips was the kiss, The lingering sweetness of stale alcohol And the acidic air of vomit.

The water of his life turned once and for all To sour wine.

I decided to follow him, One lost soul being led by another Into deliverance, Into the night.

They call it salvation.

Somewhere in the city above Someone turns off the light Pretending the answer lies in sleep In darkness

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Sways and stumbles his way Under the synthetic orange glow, The safety of the street light.

There, he can be seen Slick hair, five o’clock shadow, canvas sneakers Baring the marks of several beatings Like a badge.

Like a testament Of the journey, of roads traveled.

All come to the city of angels.

There is a story.

Magda Nuñez

Kyle Borden

Jesus walks.

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

the park Ethan Faulkner

Through the night and the city I follow, though I grow weary, He carries on.

My mind wanders as my eyes stay fixed.

He is shorter than I believed, Darker, too.

Every so often, I catch a suspicious glance, A wary gleam in his eye.

That, too . . . Different . . .

If it was me . . .

Dawn is upon us Though all but the angels sleep.

Man-made orbs of orange Are diffused by the brightest light of God. I have been delivered To China Town.

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Ethan Faulkner

Magda Nuñez

Inside the Red Dragon Jesus washed dishes.

strong religious familymom who lovesdad who triesme who liessomething not spoken but must come out start slowly speak carefully here comes the bomb charity flees; eyes empty— fists clench me dodging later alonesad aloneno family alonestreets cold roof gone rain comes clothes drenched hope goneself found truth learned joy possible

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

jurassic park Charles Ryder

i am Anthony Chuy

I am pain I am the cause for your traumas I am the reason anger happens I am the one who gives death his clients.

I am everywhere, you can’t avoid me.

I am anger The worst thing to enter your heart I am the cause of pain I am the reason you cause it to others, I am the creator of war hatred is my child who, in you, grows.

I destroy love, and all actions of sympathy I fill your mind with many images you dare not speak of.

I am inevitable, you can not escape me

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I am depression I am a venomous monster I make you fear the outside world I make you feel ill I cause your smile to fade I make your world turn to gray You are my creator I only infect your mind Although the mind is powerful Once im in it, you are under my power.

Anthony Chuy

ďťżCharles Ryder

I am envy I am the one who feeds anger I am the poision in your mind I am the number one capital sin The moment I enter your mind It is you who keeps me fed I make your depression rise I am the thorn plant in your heart Who blinds your from all wonders in your life.

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

How I Started the Riot at the Stonewall Inn Kevin O’Connell I am fear I can turn any memory into your worst nightmare I cause you to cry at the very thought.

At night I make you torture chamber Just by making you see and hear things that are not there.

I am very irrational but in your mind I am not.

I cause the most unpleasent feelings in you Just because you came across a horrible spot.

I am deadly, I am horrid Only because in your eyes I am made strong.

I am death I only do my tasks When it is time to go All these other things Revolve around me I am blamed for pain, fear, anger, and depression When it is really you Who makes all these suggestions.

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Kevin O’Connell

Anthony Chuy

I am Anthony I tried avoiding all these things in my silence But instead I allowed them to infect my life And cause damages I tried to avoid.

I was the reason for all this Since I allowed it to enter my heart.

These things are all avoidable But it has to be me who is willing to start.

Y

ou will forgive me for exaggeration in this account of true events and my role in those events as over the many years since my youth and my retelling the tale so often, even I don’t know what to believe anymore. So I will place this disclaimer early that this story is largely fictional, or as they say in some movies nowadays, “Inspired by true events.” Late June 1969 I was visiting New York after driving a transport car from Los Angeles to New York. Driving cars cross country for paying customers was a common way to make extra money and was available to college students who were presumed to be responsible, and that is what I was having just finished my second semester at Los Angeles Harbor College in Wilmington, California. Young people these days with their tweeting and social networks don’t know how things were back in the 60s. Back then there was a great deal of social upheaval we used to refer to as “revolution.” I have learned to notice the signs of total boredom in the kids today, so I will try not to go on too long about my younger years. If you will bear with me as I recount those times (with an occasional senior moment) I will try to be brief.

The 60s was a time of liberation. We were fighting against the twin pillars of oppression and imperialism. The United States had “invaded” the poor third world country of Vietnam, black and brown people were “struggling” for their rights, women were “burning bras” in protest of “male chauvinist pigs” who wanted to keep them in the kitchen. So you see there was a lot going on, let me get on with the story. I was in New York and seeing the sights. I had delivered the car to One Way Transport, and I hoped to find another car to go the other direction before long. Otherwise I would have to hitchhike or take a bus (I preferred driving of course). I walked about a mile and a half to the YMCA (I had read in my guide book that the lodging was very reasonably priced).

I got a bed in one of the dorms for a couple of nights. With luck there would be another transport car heading west soon. I put on my hiking boots and took off on foot to see the sights. I’d always wanted to see the statue of the famous composer George M. Cohan in Times Square, and out of all the sights to see in New York this one was first on my list. When I was a kid I had seen the movie Yankee Doodle Dandy starring a young Jimmy Cagney (he was

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famous for playing a gangster, so this singing and dancing role was quite a departure for him). I watched this movie over and over again on a feature called Million Dollar Movie that played on a local channel in L.A. They would play the same movie every night for a week or two and I don’t think I missed a single screening. I remember Cagney dancing and singing, “Oh I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy, Yankee Doodle do or die. A real live nephew of my Uncle Sam born on the 4th of July.” I still hear that song in my mind even after all these years. Well, let me get back to the story. I returned that evening to the YMCA and settled in after snacking on some French rolls I had purchased on the way home.

There were a lot of young men who had checked in while I was seeing the sights of New York; the “No Vacancy” sign had been posted. I was quite fortunate in having checked in early. There was quite a party going on with the pungent smell of marijuana in the air (but this was frowned on in the Y so everything was done with discretion). “Here man,” a young fellow with a shock of blonde hair said as he passed me a joint (what a marijuana cigarette was called back then, I don’t know what they call it today). I took a small puff and handed it back saying, “thanks” as I held the small amount of smoke in my lungs. I was feeling a little cautious; as I wasn’t comfortable around so many people I didn’t know. They were passing around a bottle of Southern Comfort, a popular brandy at that time, and I felt a warm sensation as I swallowed the sweet liqueur. With the social lubrication of alcohol and weed, soon we were talking and laughing like friends who knew each other for years. “Club time,” one of the guys said, “wanna go the inn?” I didn’t know what he meant, but in any case I replied in the affirmative. Back then we prided ourselves on being open to new experiences, especially if there was the slightest chance of defying the social conventions of the older generation. I piled into a red VW Beetle, called a Bug, with four of my new friends. Soon we pattered out of the parking lot. Now I don’t know if any of you have ever ridden in one of these old Bugs, but believe me, they are noisy and cramped. They have a four speed manual transmission and the rear engine sounds like it is inside the cab. You put the car in gear and step on the gas and this rumbling sound winds up with a sudden (and blessed) pause when you press in the clutch and change the gear. You couldn’t get me in one of those cars today, but back then they seemed like the hippy version of a flying carpet.

We rumbled on our way until we approached “The Inn.” This establishment looked like it was really hopping. There was a line of about twenty people standing beneath the tall neon sign with huge

vertical letters: “STONEWALL” and a smaller “INN” beneath the column. We unpacked ourselves from the bug and after a few minutes we were inside the Stonewall Inn. What a party scene! I remember they were playing a song called Lola (“L-O-L-A, Lola.

L-O-L-A, Lola.”), this song was something about a man name “Lola” who dressed like a woman. This was an epiphany moment for me. I noticed that this bar was full of men, and even what I thought were women from a distance turned out to be men as well. I hadn’t put this together before at the YMCA as only men are allowed to stay there anyway; this was the gay scene. Now I didn’t have anything bad to say about homosexuals (they are another oppressed minority after all). I just hadn’t realized what was going on. I have never been very “worldly.” I had a girlfriend and all, but I was always preoccupied with various causes, and devoting myself to ending oppression and capitalist exploitation. Well in any case getting back to the “Inn,” I spent the evening drinking club soda.

I was under the drinking age, but I don’t think anyone would have checked (I always looked a few years older than my actual age). I wanted to keep my sober wits because I was in a new situation. I ended up spending most of the evening with a “drag queen” and we struck up a friendship. He was wearing a low cut blue dress, and he had long brown hair that hung about his shoulders. His chest was quite hairy (an obvious masculine attribute). “So you come from L.A” “Yes, just south of L.A., in Wilmington.” I replied having to get close because of the music.

“What are you taking in school?”

“Undecided still but I’m thinking of Economics.”

We talked for a while. He was just finishing law school from some school in New York, but I didn’t hear exactly which one. I want to point out that most gay people can sense when you are “straight” and aren’t inclined to approach you in that particular way ascribed to them by some. I never felt any kind of discomfort and on the whole, the outfits and some other things aside, I was having a good time; just out at a club in a different city. The soda was running through me, so I excused myself to use the john.

While there, I heard a commotion. Someone was issuing orders over a bullhorn or something. I peeked out and saw a bunch of police inside the bar. The music went off. Now I will tell you, the idea of getting busted in New York was not appealing at all. I had been arrested once in L.A. when I was with some folks who had some marijuana on them. No charges were filed, but I still spent

Kevin O’Connell

Kevin O’Connell

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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the weekend in jail. I almost got busted again when I went with a bunch of my friends to a Torrance beach they called “Rat Beach” (I don’t know to this day if that is its real name or not). We built a fire, smoked pot, and sang. We were having a grand time when the lifeguards drove up and told us to put out the fire and leave. The lifeguards said, “And take your marijuana with you!” Well when we got to the top of the little canyon that overlooks the beach there were a bunch of Torrance Police. My friend and I got into his car in a hurry and drove off. The Police were busy handcuffing other people. We ended up sleeping on the lawn of a local Unitarian Church instead of the beach as we had planned. But let me get back to the Stonewall Inn. I sure didn’t want to go to jail in New York, so panic sent me out the back door to an alleyway. I went around the block to the front.

There were police cars everywhere with their lights flashing. Those New York cops have light blue shirts with their funny police caps (at least different from police in L.A.). They were loading people into big truck like vans (they were called paddy wagons back then, but I don’t know what they call them nowadays). I was across the street with a growing crowd watching as my ride was getting loaded into the van. I have to say I was far more concerned about getting back to my lodging than his incarceration. A large number of people started gathering across from the Stonewall, and the crowd got rowdy, they were yelling at the police and making quite a scene.

There was one guy who placed the end of a black comb across his upper lip imitating the small mustache of Hitler. He raised his right hand in a Nazi salute and started yelling “Sieg Heil, Sieg Heil, Sieg Heil.” Before long everyone (including me) was yelling “Sieg Heil!

Sieg Heil! Seig Heil!” There were taunts of “fascist!” and “pigs!” The protest was getting louder and louder, and I have to say I became very excited. I have never been so excited before or since. The crowd had grown to hundreds and the police were becoming concerned.

I don’t think they had expected this kind of reaction, and they were certainly not prepared for it. At first there was nothing more than a bunch of yelling. I don’t know what happened to me but right when I saw my transvestite friend getting arrested and shoved into the van, I went berserk. There had been a construction site close by, and I ran over and grabbed a piece of steel rebar (a nice three foot long piece). I used to work around construction sites so I know what a good club steel rebar makes. I ran out of the crowd, steel club in hand, and broke every single window in the van. Then I went and broke the headlights, the taillights, and I did plenty of body damage

as well. I didn’t know why no one stopped me, I kept thinking a cop was going to grab me, but none did. I then went to work on a nearby police car, and then a second car. I figured out the reason why I wasn’t arrested. While I had been busy beating the hell out of defenseless cars, rocks and bottles had begun to rain down on the police who were making a tactical retreat towards the inn. I had started a riot.

Now I don’t know if you have ever seen a police car on fire, but it is a sight to see. Cars were getting turned over and I think the entire New York City Police Department had arrived. The crowd had grown into thousands. I heard it turned into the famous Stonewall Riot and officially began the Gay Rights Movement. As for me, the recent exercise of beating cars had caused me to have some sober reflection. I still didn’t want to end up in jail in NYC. I walked away from the riot and tried for hours to find my way back to the YMCA. I was in an area called Greenwich Village and getting back to my room turned out to be an all-night odyssey, but I finally made it. I laid low for a couple of days extending my stay at the YMCA, and fortuitously a transport car headed to the San Fernando Valley came up, I made my escape. The Statute of Limitations ran out a long time ago on my night of crime, and anyway I don’t know in the fog of my memory if that was really me or someone else. I have recounted my historic role in bringing “Freedom and Justice” to gay people many times. First there were “rap groups” (little workshops as they were called back then), and later, as the Gay Rights Movement got going, I lectured at a bunch of different places. I even lectured at the VFW a few times. With the passage of time so much has changed, I still get the occasional “Movement Pioneer” invitations, but not so many now. The last time I spoke, the kids kept saying I was OG (I think that is Original Gangster but I’m not sure). Well that is my story. The tale of how I went on vacation and started a riot that changed history or at least that is how I recollect my summer of 1969.

Kevin O’Connell

Kevin O’Connell

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

R.A.P

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Get up and feel motivated rather than being sinful, sing a prayer to get educated ‘Cause I graduated from FortKnox against all odds now I’m nauseous every time I speak ‘Cause my accent shows I should have been arrested by police through the pigment of my skin But what hurts me the most is not being able to walk without the label that corresponds to you I don’t need half-naked women around me to get my point across I come from a place just like you Where cops have always held a gun pointed straight at the youth the question is…. Are we the one’s to shoot?

To prove my context, my generation only abides what the radio says is correct, but I don’t need to put on a show just to prove my intellect And I respect those who made the right choice by not following the rest because most of the time we try to appeal to those who don’t matter only to stay relevant, And really we need to follow great minds like we do dead presidents And realize that the mind is an incredible thing that we shouldn’t waste So think twice before you party and stay out past eleven nine times out of ten you’ll find yourself drowning with your drink of preference, Never been a drinker, rather a thinker now and then, So it’s only logical for me to drown with the bodily fluids that inhabit inside my pen

This goes to show that friends can be the worst influence I tell you from experience and half of you might leave today probably making fun of me but why shoot down another mind, when we already have dead Kennedys Even when death surrounds you, be better than that Have a better plan ‘Cause even after my optics were prone to blindness by the helicopter propellers I postponed my failure to pursue this positive poetic composition that made my life copacetic instead Poetry, Hip-Hop, ever since I met it I wanted my cause to be complimented by caressing every metaphor and simile until it carved into the perfect persona and accomplish what I want ‘cause KRS-ONE said it better than all, but I’ll say it twice for you to understand The essence of art, is to be yourself The essence of art, is to be yourself and if I lost that I wouldn’t be able to paint a perfect picture I wouldn’t pick up a pen if the canvas was empty Even if Ab-Soul’s Book of Soul taught me to cope with absence My soul would still be absent You can see Soul and K. Dot influenced across the words that I wrote or rather spit, this is food for thought and I did just that I wrote my own hieroglyphs So would you please follow me I want our name to be synonymous

Marco Aguilar

Marco Aguilar

Marco Aguilar

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Seven Sacred Pools John Gatlin

Marco Aguilar

to that of Edgar Allan Poe I’m just a poet with incredible rhythm in me since that week of ‘93 Til infinity Please don’t remember me as that kid who attempted a different plan No, not that Because we come from different places, but we follow the same symmetry A picture is worth a thousand words, so this paints a perfect imagery This isn’t R.A.P This is Rhythm Assisted Poetry.

John Gatlin

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

To Granny Elextrah Eze

I can still see you on the cough Fatigue devouring you The way you devoured You weren’t supposed to have it But we never stopped you

How’s the man you used to pray to?

I’m good to him now and he teaches me a lot Does he look like the pictures?

Do you see Dad? Tell him I love him

“Turn on the fan,” My Mother said Hoping the walk caused the shortness of breath “Give me a soda,” You said Hoping your mouth was just dry from the chill air

We never said it enough to you But I know we’ll be together again On a couch in the sky Popping open sodas Going for walks together

Inhaling with no result Hand on your chest My last time seeing you aline I never could have guessed The pressure you felt Walls closing in Just to take you away From your life and your kids 911 asked too many questions Faintly heard them take you away While my sister and I dropped to our knees The way you taught us to do before bed

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My aunt told me that you needed your mom Now I know why I need you sometimes But I know we’ll all be together You don’t need the pills to be happy anymore

Elextrah Eze

Elextrah Eze

We asked a man you always prayed to To let you stay with us He didn’t.

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Jazz and Love Letters Diante DeBarge

ghost highway Saul Prado

Diante DeBarge

Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why I feel so shy.

I want to show you what I feel inside, But only your eyes are left to dry.

We cross the stars to where we lie, Awaiting the next time we can fly.

Believe me for this I do not lie, You give me new life at meeting eye.

And on the inside I want to die, Every time we say goodbye...

Saul Prado

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

The wall Jannette Alvarez

Him and Me Courtney Charpentier

ďťżJanette Alvarez

We had a secret, him and me We took a boat out to the sea And made an island with canopies, Of our own design.

We had a secret, him and me We took a train to NYC, Moved through the city expertly Grace and love, defined.

We had a secret-no, just me I took a plane to Albany, Closed my eyes, counted to three, And left it all behind.

Courtney Charpentier

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

karma

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Ruben Ureña

No red organ left to bellow the last breath The keys intermingled between my feet and my first death Eyes so deeply watered as if a shore Battling the sands of the goddesses lore The sands on my face Waging war upon hell and all of its race And you hear the kings loud As the sky opened-one thought-profound!

A large circle of gold warm clay The sun’s child arrived in my eyes today The silhouette of heavenly angels Surrounded as lashes of the divine archangels.

It saw me as it ripped through the skies gently Its light pure as the lights nightly As my hair struck with happy fear Human apes witnessed no tear They were all sunk beneath the rest One day and one day only for god’s test As I went deeper in the air The keys of my organ beat in despair The pounding of blood and music Through my veins and through the few sick Her lips were as warm as the ones who opposed it.

For I kindled the flame and felt I’ve known it For so long I have postponed it This terminal medicine under a clasp of hands We met in the air few by sea and none by lands.

Alas! The gravity streams down the river Was close enough to give the last kiss to give her.

Filtered by the glass in my eyes And the sand beneath my feet Maybe I see myself through the eyes of another man’s seat.

Ruben Ureña

Charlie James

Charlie James

The Red Organ

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Silence Eric Chiang

let them eat snake Lysistrata Karch-Coar

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“Now?” “Yes.” They were sitting outdoors, at a café they had frequented almost every Saturday for the past sixteen years. They had been talking about their granddaughter’s recent wedding before the familiar silence settled between them, a circling stillness that seemed to increasingly pervade their time together. She had been, up to that moment, trying to navigate through that silence and when he finally broke it, she was not at all surprised by what he broke it with.

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Years.”

“So have I,” she said.

He looked at her face, which he still found beautiful, the twenty-three year old girl he had proposed to still showing through the weathered features. He had spent the majority of his life with this woman. He had built a life with her, raised children, welcomed grandchildren. A jumble of thoughts raced toward articulation— explanations, consolations, apologies, justifications—trying to rise above, but stumbling, over the simple fact that he didn’t love her.

“We—” She returned his gaze, allowing a brief moment of expectancy before yielding to the silence that fell back into place.

This was in New York City, on a spring day in 1987, a pocket of deafening quiet tucked under a patio umbrella in one of the busiest streets of the borough, the two of them caught in the inevitable they never thought would have come. Squeezed between buildings that seemed to pierce the sky, inundated with the constant, indecipherable roar of the city, the sky scrapers made her think of towers of Babel. In their forty-three years of marriage they had developed a language of their own, communicating with looks and gestures and half phrases. They had conversed for forty-three years, warding off that primal silence, but had they really ever understood the other?

Lysistrata Karch-Coar

Eric Chiang

“I want a divorce.”

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

serenity

The Hurt

Glafira E. Carr

Andrew Phillips

ďťżGlafira E. Carr

Heart is sore Head is low But why do I want more?

All I do is move so slow I look to the East And I look to the West What happens right now is for the best All can go back to normal one day Speaking the words we are longing to say Even though we part from one another We still feel the care we have for each other Life goes on and the days go fast I knew there was a day I would cast Cast you away on your own Might be the only person I have ever known I might have not known the outcome All I have left are these poems I will be absolutely fine in the end Every single wound will eventually mend

Andrew Phillips

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

through the storm

Orlyn J. Matute

Phillip Prins

Phillip Prins

laza and the jelly bean escape

Orlyn J. Matute

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

Flash Bang

mÉmoire

Troy Fredericksen

Jenna Starr

Half Rising Suns make necks twist twice.

A product of Daddy’s trip to Nam. A little bomb of napalm painted in lip gloss and lip balm.

Makes mushy mouths moshi, mumbling nowapropisms.

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I don’t hear their giggles.

I’m yelling roger dodger charlie bravo alpha tango, with Grace (My M4).

Gonna make it sing to Ling-Ling Gonna bag me one of them babies Westward Ho! Bring Mama-San to Mama, to the cornfields and cows.

To my plough.

I’ll show those pretty girls, I’ll make them (come to Papa).

Jenna Starr

Troy Fredericksen

Don’t let them spot you Son, those pretty girls.

Can’t see Camo or the jungle for the trees.

Rows of white teeth, Enamel Ammo.

Dents in each cheek, Tan Trenches.

Goosebumps over her heart, Booby Traps.

Those pretty girls.

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she Corrine Kosidlak

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Corrine Kosidlak

Corrine Kosidlak

M

y feet pound against the pine needle strewn floor of the forest as unseen leaves whip my face and force tears from my eyes. The trees beside me appear nothing more than blurs of dark masses—each one posing their own threat as I run forward, almost blind. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. I didn’t need to hear the footsteps in close pursuit. Crap. I don’t even know how close or if they are even behind me. I can’t help it and look back; there’s a black figure, a shadow, even in the bright moonlight, only a few feet behind me and a new burst of adrenaline courses through my veins. My legs pump harder, thighs burn, calves tighten, but I’m immune to the pain—until my ankle catches on a root. I should have been looking down, not at my back.

A blow knocks the wind out of me. Air dispels from my lungs, and a damp moldy smell enters with each sharp intake of breath, sputtering as it mixes with my choking sobs. My ankle, now the only focus point—pain. Red, hot, fatal pain. Shooting streaks of defeat up my legs and my hands. My palms dig into the needles and dirt in attempt to break my fall, pushing out little craters in the forest floor. Quickly groping for something, I try to crawl away.

Scrambling I whip my good leg into a round-house kick I had learned years ago in jiu-jitsu and feel contact with something, but my triumph fades as my legs seize up and I feel as if a strong grip has taken hold of my hands and arms, pinning them to the ground.

Rocks dig into my hands now, grunts and ragged breathing.

“No!” I yell. “PLEASE, Please…please please stop no.”Escape… escape. Eyes staring into mine. Watery. A flash of dangerous silver above them. My thighs burned. Like the sun, from the running and no. away away. Escape to another time, another place I am not me I am not me.

The sun shone through the window on her exposed thighs, warm on her skin.

Out of key voices sang loudly as the wind drowned out the rather horrible noises from any innocent victims. The car hugged the side of the mountain, winding curves in sharp, thrilling turns.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Blood pounding. Heart racing to escape her chest. No! I am not me. She is not me.

“Naw, I doubt it,” she answered, “It’s not like we’re staying here for long anyways. If we did get lost, and I’m not saying we will, then we can rough it.”

Jace turned his head from the passenger seat and smirked at her in the back. She guessed he appreciated the fact that the jeep had no air conditioning and everyone, including Lara and herself, was practically forced to shed their shirts to stay cool. Jace raised his eyebrows.

Boys. She thought. Lara, her friend, smiled at her, letting her know that their thoughts were similar. Carter, Lara’s boyfriend, was driving, and looked back just as often, if not more, than Jace. They had been looking forward to this camping trip all summer as a celebration of the end of high school and the beginning of adulthood.

She felt like she knew these woods from a dream—comfort and seclusion and adventure lingering in the woods. Once the rumble of the engine died, the sound of rushing water mingled with the shrieks and splashes of kids could be heard that must have been behind the copse of trees.

“This way.” Carter said.

“Wait, hold up.” Lara stopped and turned back to the car, grabbing sunscreen. “You and your pale skin. I don’t wanna hear complaints about being burned when we get to the campsite.”

They walked along the river’s edge, and she fell behind. She tried to speed up and lost her balance completely, crashing down into the shallow ice water and banging her knee on a boulder, only to be swiftly pushed forward by the unexpectedly strong current.

Grasping for something, she screamed, “Carter!” as she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Luckily he stood a few feet away and quickly pulled her up before she could get pushed down again.

“Oh my God, thank you Carter,” she said, still a bit shaken. “Ah, my knees. Oh, lovely, these are going to make beautiful rainbows tomorrow.”

“You gonna be ok?” he asked.

“Oh, sure.” She said. “You know me, a little pain won’t interfere with my adventures. Not to mention, the river is practically an ice pack. I’ll ice when we stop, and keep moving so that my knees don’t stiffen.”

“Geez. How do you know so much about that stuff? Healing wounds and shit.”

“I don’t know, observation?”

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She followed behind Carter and Jace with Lara by her side, now.

She wished Jace had stayed with her so she could hold his hand, but she never resented Lara’s company.

“I’m so glad another girl came along,” Lara started, “especially you! No one else seems to understand writing and poetry and art and just… everything beautiful. Seriously, guys are just…”

Lara chatted along, but as her friend talked, she started to wander off in her thoughts about the landscape. The trees were thinning again, giving a clear view of the pale blue sky, and looming grey mountains, streaked with red stone and littered with dark crevices.

A painting could never do such a landscape true justice. The road seemed lonely, with just the four of them, as if people belonged here, living and breathing and appreciating the mountains that hailed them from the heavens. Maybe it was people that held the true beauty; maybe without the human face to gaze upon such wonderful sights, the beauty was useless. What would it look like from above?

She wondered.

“Hey dreamer,” Lara called, “the boys went this way!”

Shaking those last thoughts from her head and resolving to return to examining her surroundings sometime later, she followed the path over the hill. She found herself at a small, pebbly beach where the river pooled due to a damn of rocks and a large fallen tree trunk only ten feet above the water, where she saw Jace and Carter. Their clothing had been ditched unceremoniously in the sand. Lara opted to read and keep watch of their stuff.

“Come on in!” Carter called before jumping in. Jace followed suit, blowing her a kiss. The two heads bobbed to the surface cursing. It was apparently extremely cold. She sighed, but the sun felt so warm, she decided to join them anyways and stripped down to just her underwear. The first few steps into the river were agony. It actually hurt.

Keeping her back to the boys and folding her arms over her breasts, she inched forward, but couldn’t go past her knees.

“Ah, come on,” Carter said, “Just jump in. It’s better to get it over in one jump.”

Pulling her arms tighter around her, she walked over to the tree trunk and hoisted herself up with help from Jace. The log moved a little, just enough to make her feel unsteady.

“Jace,” she said, “I swear if I fall…”

“Why would it matter?” he asked, exasperated. “You’re gonna jump in anyways. Fine, give me your hand.” He led her across to the middle, where the water was deepest. “We’ll jump together, alright?

Or else I’ll just push you in.”

A calm happiness seemed to spread throughout his entire being.

She felt it in his warm hand. After a few more agonizing moments of dread, she jumped, thinking she could very well be dying, but at least she’d be happy holding his hand. Then the ice seemed to clutch at her lungs and her whole body screamed. How could something so beautiful, be so painful? Beauty is pain, she thought randomly before breaking to the surface and feeling the sun again.

“That’s… cold,” she tried to say through her clenched jaw.

Her skin ached form the cold, so much so that it actually hurt to move. After a few good stokes, however, she didn’t mind the cold anymore, going numb and allowing nature to be what it was. She floated, treading water occasionally to keep from moving too much, when she heard voices. Quickly righting herself, she swam a bit closer to the log for cover, where the boys were waiting, looking at her.

A man, about forty or so, with geeky hiking attire appeared from the crag. He took cursory glances at the teenagers; he kept looking at her though, and she started to worry, but figured the water was so reflective he wouldn’t see much.

Glancing above her, she saw the guy, a slightly thick build, staring. She started swimming under the bridge where he wouldn’t be able to see her. “Creep,” she muttered.

“Seriously, but he’ll go away eventually. Come here.” Jace was on a rock, so she climbed up, careful to keep her back to the bridge and huddled against him for warmth and coverage. She was pretty sure he didn’t mind her being there, and she would have loved to take advantage of the proximity, but the guy was making her uncomfortable. And he still wasn’t moving. He had finished what she presumed was his lunch, and he seemed lost in thought.

Finally realizing the guy wasn’t budging. She tried to keep talking and relax as her consciousness of the man went in and out. Lara seemed a bit off, and even Jace and Carter acted on edge. The four ended up sunbathing on a rock out his vision, where they felt much more relieved, and ended up talking for a good hour or two.

Jace was warm, and she leaned back into his chest, letting him trace circles on her stomach.

She never wanted to move. The day was just too perfect. She knew it was going to end, though—it would have to. Just as the thought flitted through her mind, she noticed the sun had just touched the top of the mountains, ready to let the darkness take over.

“Why aren’t they gone?” whispered Lara. Quite shocked, she

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looked over and sure enough, not gone. “Now that is creepy,” Lara echoed her thoughts.

Choosing to block out this very disturbing fact, the group decided to leave. They reached the rest of their clothes, and, turning to leave, caught the back of the man just walking away. He glanced back and she felt a chill run through her, like she knew what he was thinking.

Waiting a few minutes by silent consent, they gave him a wide berth before leaving the way they came. The empty road back to the car was a welcome. No one felt the need to fill the silence. She fell into step with Jace and took his hand, as Carter and Lara lagged behind. Finally, the last rays of sunlight were suffocated by a fog amid the trees.

“Wouldn’t this just be the perfect horror story?” Carter cheerfully said, breaking the silence. It took her a few seconds of blinking and a good shake to get out of her reverie, because she had been forming a similar story in her mind for some odd reason. That man had sparked a more disturbing note in her imagination and the scenery fit too perfectly.

A teetering laughter escaped from her before she sunk back into her thoughts.

A dark shape might have flitted out of the corner of her eye.

Quickly turning to look, all she saw was her shadow. The trees were too dense to see much else. She was letting her imagination run a little wild; she couldn’t help it. The occasional sound of footsteps would carry through the trees, but the others would ignore it. Only she seemed aware. She should say something, but of course they would dismiss it as nothing.

“Hey, you listening?” Jace said to her, squeezing her hand.

“What?” She stuttered, dazed.

“We’re back. Get in the car.”

“Ok,” Carter announced, “Now that everyone is present, we are at campsite F, lot one-oh-two.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry guys,” she shook her head, apologizing as the comment was obviously directed at her. “Daydreaming.” She dismissed it with a wave, trying to shake off the weird feeling.

“Ooookay,” Carter said, “let’s go!”

Her mind wandered again as she stared out the window. He would be watching them all the way back to the car. His figure would appear moments later, stand in the spot they had just left, and staring intently at the retreating car.

Her head whipped back around, thinking she had actually seen a figure.

“You sure you’re ok?” Lara asked, concerned.

“She’s a little... spooked, aren’t you?” Carter teased, “Don’t worry, it’ll make the night more fun.” After what seemed to be mere minutes, Carter announced, “Hey! We’re here.”

The boys unloaded the car, setting tents as the girls went to claim a nearby campfire pit.

“So… what was going on back there?” Lara continued, “you seemed a bit on edge.”

Suddenly, she felt stupid. Shaking her head, she said, “Oh, just a little fancy of mine seeming a bit too real. You know how it is with artists and their imaginations.”

“Oh! I love that though, when you feel like it’s not even your own thoughts, but just one thought that takes hold and runs off on its own. It’s the best feeling.”

“Ya, except when it’s a scary thought. Hey, do me a favor, and just don’t mention it to the others? They won’t understand. You know non-artists? Not to mention Jace will tease me.”

Lara nodded her head, and the boys returned. After eating, Lara went to check her belongings in the tent, and promptly disappeared among the trees.

“Hey Jace, Carter,” she started, “I’m going to go for a walk, clear my mind and stuff.”

“Alright,” Jace said and pecked her lips unexpectedly. She smiled and blushed; waving goodbye to a chuckling Carter, she hurried off after Lara. A minute later, the tents were in sight and she could see the outline of Lara from the outside.

“Lara!” she yelled. “I’m going for a walk, wanna join?”

Lara poked her head out of the tent flap.

“Naw,” Lara said, “I’m gonna set up sleeping bags” Lara waved and the tent flap snatched her friend’s head back in.

She stepped away and walked on a bit, tempted to go back and entreat Lara, when she felt a hand cover her mouth. She tried to scream but no sound came out. Another hand swept her hair aside and she felt a pleasant heat on her neck.

“Hmmm, looks like I caught you,” came a familiar voice that sent her heart fluttering. She blushed. Did she really fear it was that man? He was only a figment of her imagination.

“You scared me, Jace,” she scolded.

“Then you ought to stop making up wild scary fantasies in your mind,” he laughed. His low growl was teasing, but she was hurt, and pulled away slightly. “Aw, come on, I think it’s funny,” he begged.

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She had asked Lara a simple thing. No matter how trivial, it was the principle of it. All she had asked Lara was to keep mum. A simple request really... but her internal rant quickly ended as Jace effectively distracted her with his lips along her neck.

“No,” she pulled away, “I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he said in response. He slowly closed the distance despite her fierce stance and crossed arms. His mouth was inches from hers when he said, “Fine, go on your walk.

I’ll see you when you come back.” He sighed, pecked her before she could stop him, and left.

She took off in a random direction, and thankfully she kept a flashlight on her for camping trips. The shadows created from her beam of light ignited her imagination, and soon she couldn’t help but continue her story. The dark shadows would have been watching from the trees: watching the boys unpack, observing how strong they were, watching the two girls. Too bad they hadn’t been alone earlier, or he could have finished them all before dark. They were slowly dispersing. Careful to avoid the campers, he snuck behind trees. Waiting.

Watching.

Just the thought of this spooked her out. She decided to start heading back. Who knew how long she had been gone. No watch, no cell phone, and a good story in her head meant no perception of time. The girl’s silhouette stood out from the lit up tent fabric. It was now or never. It was so easy. Even if she remembered him, she would ignore it out of necessity. For sanity’s sake. Because that’s what humans do. Ignore all things that feel uncomfortable. Believe what’s easy rather than the facts. That’s how the mind worked. It made it so easy on him. He was safe for now. The tent flap was all that was between them, he should make her come out. No, he’d come in, No, she had seen him! Even more perfect. She looked puzzled, but she did not recognize him, until he called her beautiful. Until he called her naturally beautiful and she screamed, though it was quickly muffled by his sleeve. She shuddered, no way she was going to hear that. Write that? What? Nevermind. Gross. But the girl still had to die right?

That’s how the stories went. He clamped a hand over her mouth whispering words of comfort. It’ll be alright. It’ll be over now. You will be even more beautiful. An easy twist of the neck. Over. Gone. How fragile, so fragile. So beautifully exposed and fragile. Onto the next one. Maybe that strong boy. Leave the couple to themselves for a while.

She had arrived back at camp.

She was greeted by Carter, who asked, “Up for a little midnight

adventure? Just talked to Lara, and she said she was too tired.”

“Uh-huh. Or she’s trying to avoid me for a bit,” she mumbled so that Carter couldn’t hear. “The little blabber mouth.”

“Yep,” came Jace’s voice from behind her, scaring her.

“Dammit! Again Jace?” she said.

“Yes! Score two! It’s two-zip, I’m winning. You should get working on that.” She made a mental note to take him seriously later. It would be payback.

With a deceptively sweet smile, she said, “Should we go on that walk now?”

The sky twinkled, seeming to guide the trio on their walk. It was too bad Lara was tired. She was missing a beautiful night. At one point the three of them just lay in the road, star gazing and having to jump up every time they felt the warning signs of a car in the rumbling asphalt below them. They’d spring up like jack– in–the boxes, laughing hysterically and running to the side of the road. Only when she was starting to shiver and hold onto Jace for warmth, did she finally note her lack of a jacket. She felt bad but had to ask to turn around.

“No worries, I’ll run back,” Carter said, “You two… have fun.”

She blinked after him, gaping at the blatant innuendo, and then turned to Jace, looking for an explanation.

“What?” Jace tried to sound innocent, but a smile was creeping onto his face. “Aw, come on, I’m not sorry, are you?”

She sighed. “I suppose not. Hmmm… well I suppose this gives me an opportunity to pay you back! Be ready to be terrified.” His disappointment was clear, but she didn’t care.

“Well,” he said, “that’s not going to work. Haven’t you ever heard of Indian history? The settlers always shouted a war cry to announce their attack, while the Indians were silent. Indians never let on about their attacks, and soon the settlers had to learn from them. Who do you think had better tactics?”

“Well,” she replied mockingly, “Now that you’ve finished your story, let me tell you a small tale about a night just like this one.”

After a bit of background she launched into her tale, not even realizing how she was presenting it from the killer’s mind. She barely noticed she was talking—it felt like thinking.

“He had watched the trio stroll off under the full-moon. Their friend had been put to sleep, permanently. They would join her soon, and they were so noisy, so easily found. They played a stupid little game of laying in the road. If they just lay there, the car would do his dirty work. But then again, if he left them to a car, he

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wouldn’t feel them in his grasp, and their forms would be mangled.

They would not be worthy of him. They must be perfect. He never understood though, why people seemed so lost and scared in death.

They should be glad to be a part of his story, a part of his art. His work was known everywhere, especially in the Police circles, though they assigned it a much nastier word. Serial Killer. They could not see his vision, they did not understand art. That last expression of a soul departed. Just beautiful. Or, it could be beautiful, but people so often ruined it with shock or anger or disgust in their expressions. Why? Why could they not comply with his mind? The tent girl for instance, kept the look of the scream—her eyes wild, blank. Her mouth slack and agape. Why couldn’t he get a damn smile. Thank him for choosing them to be a part of his masterpiece, working towards perfection?

Ah, the larger boy just left the couple. He’d deal with the couple later.

This boy looked strong. Of course, the canvas must not be destroyed.

He must remain stealthy, or else a struggle might mar the body before he could get at him. Now. He must act now. Barefoot, he would be silent. He unlaced his shoes and stepped quietly onto the pavement, still warm from the daylight. Ah, how warm the boy would still be, even after sending him to the dark abyss called death.”

“Stop,” Jace said hesitantly, but she didn’t register the request.

Silent, so silent. He loved the nights. The boy didn’t know the peace he would soon feel. His hands reached out and he got a grip on the boy. Snap-crack. Down he fell. So easy. He turned over the body.

Damn. The face still had this look of… a look of surprise. No! He tried to re-arrange the facial muscles, tried to make them relax, but they just looked like distorted plastic; they looked fake.

“STOP,” Jace yelled.

She blinked. “Sorry?” she asked dazed.

“I said stop, alright?” He laughed nervously. “You win. I’ll give you triple points for that one. Score two-three, and you’re winning, alright? But I’m warning you, be prepared for me to get even.” He shook himself wiping his neck as if trying to shake it off. “I’m actually getting cold, too. Let’s walk back and we’ll catch Carter on the way.”

Part of her was disappointed but the other part (and the greater part) was relieved because the story was starting to freak her out, too. They walked back in silence, and she enjoyed the warmth of his hand.

“Jace?” she started, “I don’t want to leave in the morning. I wish I could freeze this moment and relive it.”

He nodded his head in agreement; her mind started to wander into her story again.

He could see the couple walking back now, probably wondering where their friend was. They’d return and find him gone. The girl looked scared already. Did she see what was happening? No. She must not, she was only staring off vacantly. Daydreaming again.

Damn, she was a real wonder. Maybe if he caught her daydreaming, she’d still have that calm, beautiful expression—it always did seem to take her a few seconds to get of her thoughts anyways.

He’d have plenty of time.

Ok. She really needed to stop now. Thinking about your own death is morbid, right? She gripped Jace’s arm tightly.

“You look confused,” he commented, “but it must be the moonlight. It is a full moon tonight.” He winked.

“No,” she hesitated, “It’s the story, and I can’t stop it from continuing in my head. I can’t stop it. It’s… it’s starting to freak me out and I just don’t know how to stop. Cursed writers mind. I wish…”

“Hmm,” he interrupted, “you should enjoy your night.”

“I know,” she urged, “I just…”

He bent down and kissed her, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Just as he would steal the breath of her life, she thought and froze slightly.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “you’re thinking too much. You look lost again. Let me remind you.”

This time his kisses were more persistent.

“Jace,” she gasped, trying to recall what she was going to say.

She opened her eyes for a moment, trying to reorient herself. He disentangled himself from her, confused and dazed.

“Weren’t you distracted enough?” He sounded slightly hurt, and still breathless.

“Of course I was,” she said, shaking off her blissful delirium. “but… Carter.”

She dragged Jace at a jogging pace to the tents.

“Carter?” She whispered loudly.

No response.

“Carter?!” Jace tried calling louder.

No one was in the tent.

“Carter, Lara?!” she screamed. Her jacket hadn’t moved. Her mind went into overdrive.

He was watching them search frantically for things they would never find. He needed to quiet them. They were forcing his hand too early. Neither of them were prepared to be his art. They would be stressed, worried. Ah, they had separated now. The girl would be easy enough to get a hold of, so he’d go for the boy first while

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he still had the energy. He crept up. The boy turned, and shock registered on the boy’s face. Ruined. The boy threw a well-placed punch.

It hurt. He could taste his own blood. Lunge for his neck, he had to get it over with. The boy slipped out of his grasp again! What was this kid? A gymnast? No worries. He’d get the boy in the end. He always did. Ah, the boy froze, waiting for his next move. A mistake. No. The boy was staring straight through him, right over his shoulder. At what?

She was staring at Jace. Over a strange man’s shoulder, and she barely had time to register the bleeding cut above her boyfriend’s lip.

His eyes were still glazed in shock, as were hers. He mouthed Run, and lunged at the stranger.

The boy lunged at him, and he caught the boy around the neck.

Snap-crack. There. They all had to die at some point, right? At least they would be note-worthy. Remembered in the newspaper. A piece of art. But the boy was a pity. A completely useless, expression again.

Determined, but scared. Possibly a little bit of triumph? Not too bad a combination.

She was staring at him, at this man. Her feet were rooted. He slowly turned around after letting Jace fall to the ground. She swore she had heard a cracking sound. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. She blinked once, turned, and ran. She ran and he watched her run. He was laughing because there was no escape. She would a beautiful addition. He would outrun her soon. Adrenaline wouldn’t last her forever. And she knew it, too. She knew it the minute her heart skipped a beat as she tripped and fell into the earth; the full moon was shining brightly above. Her thighs were burning like the sun. She kicked and connected with something. His chest? She didn’t want to become a piece of art.

“No!” she yelled. “PLEASE, Please… please please stop no.”Escape…escape. But his eyes. They were staring straight into her. She might have given in, spun another story out of it to escape. I would never give him what he wanted, and I could see myself in his eyes.

I would never make him happy. He would continue; he would go to others, searching and never find the perfect canvas. I wouldn’t let him. I could risk giving him perfection. Maybe he would stop. But, even if I did, he would never be happy. He would continue. That much I understood.

She had a smile on her face. An actual smile. I knew I was smiling.

I couldn’t help it. Despite it all I was smiling, somehow knowing this was the right thing to do. She would give him what he wanted? A piece of art ready for the taking? It would be so beautiful. Crack.

Snap.

I could see myself. Beautiful, through him. Beautiful in death, but not smiling. No. I knew he would notice soon. She had been in his thoughts. She had an artist’s mind too, and in some twisted way, she knew what he had wanted. Goodbye.

He couldn’t believe it. After all this searching, here, this girl gives him perfection… but, wait. No. No! Her smile, not a smile, a laugh, a hideous laugh. Laughing at what? Him. He could see it, she was laughing at him because he would never find perfection.

She smiled, but it was not his doing, not his work. She had ruined it! Such a perfect canvas, and the art work was not his. She has stolen it. She had let him come close to perfection, touch it, taste it.

And had stolen it right from his hands. She painted the smile on her face. She painted it, not him, and she knew. Somehow, she knew.

She had laughed at him—she was dead. And she knew.

She.

Corrine Kosidlak

Corrine Kosidlak

MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

post angelous Daniel Cortes

black ink Paula Geerligs

Daniel Cortes

Look at what I’ve become: A shadow-eyed elegance, ripped from the womb of an inanimate being!

How punctual, although my eyes do shake of black liquid nonsense, with the urgency to live and dream- To write!

The brow twitches, the table trembles and suddenly the words appear: streaming hot down the esophagus, soothing and burning the mind digest

The rustling becomes a convulsing type of anodyne productiveness containing 100 years of worldly plights in my veins and consonants

So gone are the days of sluggish ways, ever since I’ve been convinced: A bitter power makes the hour

Now, now, now!

Paula Geerligs

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

patiently waiting

Duran Allison

Mark Mendez

Mark Mendez

the dragonfly

Duran Allison

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

See by sea Joanne Chan

Maricris Saker

Sea of Souls, Waves of Woes Higher and higher as time goes.

Pave the sand, paint it gold Laugh til’ dawn, so we’re told Sun be set, warm be cold Along the tide,

as dawn breaks we breathe and beat as one. frozen, we lay in sheets and sleep the fears away. arms entangled in warmth cannot suffice what will come our way when we awaketo the silence of a new day. as consciousness seeps in we slowly release, and sit on opposite ends. no longer one we breathe and beat apart like broken frequencies, forever lost in the space of sound. the tapping of footsteps that walk away scream the truth that you cannot say.

Maricris Saker

Joanne Chan

Away we flow.

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as dawn breaks

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MYRIAD / EL CAMINO COLLEGE 2013

2013 Editor Biographies

Michelle Avitia

Michelle is an English major with an interest in editing and publishing. She’s President of the book club Page Turners, and has been a part of the club since its creation in 2011. She’s transferring to San Jose State University this fall as an English major with a concentration in career writing and a minor in business.

Corrine Kosidlak

Corrine is an aspiring editor and publisher who thought that being part of the myriad was just too good to pass up. Her favorite books are Pride and Prejudice and Harry Potter, she loves everything aesthetic, and writes poetry, plays guitar, and draws. Save the Oxford comma. Allons-y!

Tatiana Medina

Tatiana is always in pursuit of self-improvement. She is always looking for new areas to improve on. She is obsessed with time-management and weighs the opportunity cost of taking on new tasks (Econ major). On her free time, which is non-existent since she has two jobs, her own business, and is also a full-time college student, she loves to dance away her stress!

Stevie Swift Jannette Alvarez

Jannette is an Anthropology and English major. When not spending her time volunteering, she is actively reading anything that is not school related. A super fan of Harry Potter, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. And a firm believer that every student should study abroad before graduating.

Julie Ames

Stevie started out as a small time student with a single unit class and a high schools mindset on life. Now she is an (almost) full time student with a slightly more mature stance on things.

Shirley Vong

Shirley is a first time editor with the Myriad. Aside from being the first to hear about breaking news, loves telling everyone what’s going on in the world, and if there’s something she wants to know-there’s no stopping her! Which proves she would be a phenomenal Reporter, News Anchor and/or Detective!

Julie is an avid coffee drinker that spends her days studying for subjects that have nothing to do with her major. When not cramming, she can usually be found stuck in traffic or jet-setting to Montana.

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