The World After Covid-19

I open the door, and sprint down the steps, Run into the street, before the crowd intercepts To take in the smell of everything clean And see the world after Covid-19.

The railings are pristine, the streets look brand new, With a space of two metres within every queue Every mouth proudly utters the word ‘hygiene’ In this world after Covid-19.

An abundance of health signs adorn the walls, The skyline, centres and the halls To urge people in expanding the space between In this crazy world post Covid-19.

Many shops have shut down, All over the town, With exasperated sighs People widen their eyes, to the truth that

Whilst a great many things have changed, Germophobes no longer seem so deranged And some will have a much more polished routine In the new world after Covid-19.

TéaSand

See Through These Eyes

Nobody likes me and my long black legs, That weave these complex and tangled webs, For I am small and too little to see, Even the flies seem to ignore me.

But not the giants that look down below, And tear apart everything I know, Stamping in vain at the uneven floor, While I smoothly scuttle out the door.

Their shrieks of terror slowly fade away, As I search for a new place to stay, This corner is dark and quiet you see, I’m hoping nobody will find me.

We all have a soul that rests in our heart, And in this world, we all play a part, See through these eyes my personality, How can I be a nonentity?

CereliaDavis

In the belly of a beast

We ride in the belly of a beast, His armour tough and strong, His tracks take us where we want to go for a feast It never takes too long. His snout shoots out iron and his engine roars like a lion He kills quick and offers no mercy, Because we ride in the belly of a tank, A tank of the stirring army.

Our enemies may have more armour, They may have bigger guns, But they are slow and heavy As we are light and fast

Everyday our numbers grow larger As they begin to grow less.

We storm through their lines

Never to come back alive

But we fight for our motherland

As the motherland provides.

NoahRendo-Castro

Hippolyta

"Hey! That’s 40 pieces of silver!"

"Excuse me, where can I find the temples?"

"Get out of my stand, slave!"

Their shouts were deafening. As I am dragged through Athens, my shackles grazing the hard earth beneath me, the city was waking. Bustling shoppers piled onto the streets in hundreds, and the sound of women's skirts swishing mixed in with the angry stomps of men's sandals. It felt as if my eardrums were to burst. However, I admit I was interested. I cocked my head slightly to listen to a heated conversation between a woman and her slave of about 12 years old. I instantly wrinkled my nose in disgust. How could these people enslave children to do their dirty work? And they call me the barbarian, I scoffed to myself. At least the Amazons treat everyone equally, be it green girl or old woman. I smiled fondly at the thought of home, and consoled myself that I would soon escape this foul-smelling city and return there.

Alisvolatpropiis. She flies with her own wings.

And I will.

I let my senses wander to the left, to a fruit stand where a middle-aged man was selling apples glazed over with caramel to a little boy. My stomach rumbled in response, but I tried to shake the hunger away. I couldn't let myself be tempted to consume the food of barbarians. Blood-baskers. Instead, I let my eyes drift over to a group of wealthy looking girls conversing animatedly. I felt a pang of jealousy. Of course I shouldn't, as I am a warrior queen, notorious for my fierce beauty that could destroy a fleet of men with one look and tear armies apart in one fell swoop. But I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be that sort of beautiful. These ladies had long, flowing hair that cascaded in curls down their skin, which was slightly bronzed by the powerful Greek sun. Their dresses were intricately designed, with ornamental patterns that covered the skirts. They looked radiant.

But wait, a tiny voice said in my head. What was I doing? Comparing my Artemisgiven beauty to that of some purposeless, child-enslaving pigs? I shook my fiery curls and stood up straighter as I passed a group of gladiators, who were guffawing hoarsely as they strutted about, like hens in a chicken pen.

Because that was all the Athenians were. Chickens. City-sackers. Child-killers

My blood roared behind my ears. Roared to the sound of my heart, beating and pulsing, aching for home. Home.

I have to get out of here.

Autinveniamviamautfaciam. I shall either find a way or make one.

And oh, did I ever.

TéaSand

The Swan Box

I lived in a small house at the forest border near Apeiron, a town known for its poets and diligent engineers. Although I was familiar with most of the forest there were some places I had not yet ventured and while I wandered I noticed a green feather on the path. As I picked it up I heard the sound of a waterfall and was overwhelmed with a tugging sensation pulling me towards it. Rainbow-flecked waters shimmered in the sunlight, casting an opalescent glow. As I stepped closer the waterfall ’s magnetism became physical and I could feel myself being propelled towards it. A flame of panic licked my insides, surely, I would be bashed against the rocks or drowned. I screamed as a hole in the sheet of water formed as if a stone had been dropped through it. I expected to have my head crushed against the rock wall behind the water, but instead I was thrust into what seemed to be a cavern behind it. Still choking for breath after the horror of what had just happened, I began to take my bearings.

I was definitely in a cave of some sort and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed a glowing form further within the cave. Cautiously I began to edge forwards in case I was dragged towards it like I had the waterfall. To my surprise, the glowing form seemed to be a golden cage. Within the cage was what seemed to be a human woman, but she couldn’t possibly be human because she was black and white as if she had been cut out from an old movie. The woman had glossy black hair, a soft compassionate face and a small slight figure that wore a dress of cotton white material that seemed to cluster around her limbs. Her jet eyes pleaded for help. Those same eyes glanced down into her arms where a black and white baby nestled.

I hurried forward reaching through the bars to try and squeeze her through the gap of the doorless cage. As I grasped her outstretched hand it felt like water and she seemed to melt, but instead of forming a puddle, I realised that she had turned to feathers. Black and white feathers swarmed the air as a gust of wind blew them around the cage. The feathers were disappearing one by one as if they were evaporating like steam.

For several minutes I stood watching the cage as the feathers all disappeared. Now that the woman was gone, I noticed a pale light coming from another cave. As I moved towards it, I realised that it was a tomb. The cave was almost round and in the centre was a huge stone sarcophagus. It was covered in leaves and there was a hole in the roof above it that let the light in.

The walls of the tomb were piled high with beautiful and ancient gold and jewelled boxes, plates, and goblets. As my eyes glittered at the sight of so many treasures, I noticed a tiny silver box under a heap of amber combs. Although it was not nearly as grand as everything else it stood out and was studded with dew-like gems of fiery iris blue. I couldn ’t help myself. I picked up the box and gently touched the elegant carved swans on the sides. This box wasn’t as elaborate as the others. Five swans swimming in a circle around the exterior of the box was the only thing depicted.

I was unable to resist the temptation to pocket the box - for safekeeping I told myself. Then I went back the way I came, slipping through a gap in the curtain of water. Once released, I don’t know how I found my way back home.

That night I dreamt of going to the waterfall but this time I was following someone there. I could not see their face. Tall, with hair of blackbird hue, everything about them spoke of luxury. When we reached the cage, the figure reached out a hand wearing rings of jet, ruby and emerald to the black and white woman in the cage. He turned, but before I could see his face I woke up.

The next morning, I intended on going back to the waterfall to see if it was all a dream but when I put on my coat, I found the silver jewelled box and knew that it must have been real. I tried to open the box, but it was locked. A crisp letter lay on my doorstep with my name in elaborate gold letters and a wax seal depicting some kind of bird. Inside was an invitation to attend a dance in the town square that evening. The person inviting me was called Cassius Crow. I knew the surname but had no idea who the writer was. I decided to consult my Aunt Ada who knew everyone in the town. Plump with cheerful rosy cheeks and long thick dyed red hair, she had a huge fondness for cats and now owned at least five and had a tooth missing from horse- riding as a child.

‘Oh yes, his father left him everything and he lives quite alone in that huge old place, apart from some staff who never come into town.’

Walking home I began to fret over which dress to wear to the dance, but when I arrived, there upon my doorstep wrapped in paper was the most beautiful dress I had ever laid eyes on. It was the dark blue of a swallow ’s feathers and of gossamer fabric. Thousands of tiny blue glass beads were held in delicate netting over it. ‘Like the box, ’I thought. The overall effect of the dress was of a glimmering mist.

As I picked my way past the carriages lining the town square that evening, I was violently shoved into one. The walls were covered with beetle wings, and it tilted with such force that I was forced to clutch the sides. Before I could gather my wits, before me was a castle that seemed to be made entirely of black and white chess pieces. Two knights loomed over me like gargoyles and at the heart of the castle was a huge cross marking the King and the towers were castle pieces. What a shadow this castle would cast! Not only was the form dramatic but also wildly intimidating.

The carriage gently tipped me out and I managed to muffle my gasp. Although I had never seen his face, I knew that this was the figure from my dream: this was Cassius Crow. He welcomed me courteously, but I was furious. His mother had been renowned for her gentle beauty but there nothing gentle about Cassius. He had eyes as dark as his hair, a sharp jawline, a slightly pointed nose, and strong cheekbones and this gave him an almost elvish look. It was also impossible not to notice the contrast between his pale skin and dark hair which made him blend well with his house. He was very tall and radiated confidence and invited me inside. It occurred to me that I did not know my way back home. He led me through the black front door to a grand entrance hall where a black goat trotted to his side.

“Now, we are going to go and see my witch,” he announced, already striding miles ahead of me.

We entered a room with a ceiling entirely made of glass. A middle-aged woman was washing the strangest thing I have ever seen. It was a golden toad and about as large as a hot air balloon.

“Toady here is all set whenever you are ready,” the woman exclaimed with enthusiasm. Cassius turned to me and gestured to the toad.

“Hop on,” he demanded impatiently, before tossing me onto the toad’s back and hopping on himself behind me.

The glass in the roof folded back and we were flying I held on for dear life as the toad began to soar upwards and away into the forest. As we passed a tree, I grabbed a pinecone. When we had reached a sufficient height, he turned to me and asked in a voice that emitted a deadly sweetness.

“Give me the box, girl,” he smiled maliciously. Miraculously I spotted a wasp’s nest and with all the force I could muster I threw the pinecone at the nest and leapt from the toad onto the ground.

I began to recognise my surroundings, I was near home, I was near the waterfall. I knew that Cassius knew where I lived so going home wasn’t an option, but the waterfall was. The tugging sensation once again forced me forwards and I was pulled through the sheet of pearly water. The cage was there as it had been only yesterday, and I could see a pale figure standing before it. I rushed forward to ask the woman for help, but this wasn’t a woman. It was Cassius. I paused in terror unable to move. I had to blink several times to comprehend that Cassius wasn’t hurt, in fact there wasn’t a sting on him.

“Please,” he whispered, “The black and white woman you saw yesterday is the soul of my mother, the baby is me. Please, give me the box. It is the only way you can set her free so that she may find peace.” I knew he was earnest. The black and white woman appeared in the cage and like in the dream, he was holding her hand.

“Cassius, I ’m so sorry,” I whispered with shame and regret, “Here.” I gave him the box and as he took it from me, he produced a key from around his neck and unlocked the box. Inside, was a piece of jet inlaid with an ivory swan. Cassius held out the carving to his mother and as they held it together, they both disappeared in a blizzard of black and white feathers.

Spirit of a powerful woman

One day, I shall be the most powerful woman in all of Scotland.

Right now, everyone worships my husband. He is pathetic, weak, but a man.

Life for a woman is a prison. The sooner he realises that, the sooner I can change my fate.

Although he is afraid of gaining power by killing Duncan, it is the only way for me to escape this prison. He will never understand what it means to be a woman. Power is not given to me, therefore I must take it.

My hands are stained with the blood of men.

Nevertheless, Lady Macbeth is the most powerful woman in Scotland.

Lya

“Be careful”.

I smiled. “You always say that.”

“And now I’m saying it again.” Lya brushed the leaves from my coat. “Have you been checking the shields? Again?”

“I’ll be gone a few weeks. You make sure you check them every morning and every night. If you hear or see anything, anything at all, you hide, OK?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.” Lya’s skin had the elastic plush and lustre of a magnolia flower. I hated leaving her alone.

The hatchlings chattered behind me. I checked that the capsules were securely fastened in the back of the boat. The humidity levels were low in one of them. I unlatched the lid with a hiss and adjusted the dial, careful not to touch the little green mouths that gaped and yawned. There were ten capsules in total, each holding fifty hatchlings.

“Are you sure they aren’t too young?” Lya ran her finger over the nearest creature’s snout. It snapped its jaws and she laughed.

“You always say that, too.”

“Well, look how tiny they are!”

“You get far too attached to them. Ugly little things. They’re a harvest, that’s all.”

I shivered as she checked each capsule. How could it be ten years since Reya and I lifted Lya from pods very similar to these? I felt the loss of Reya every day, but welcomed the grief. She’d brought more happiness than I could have imagined, and it was her courage that persuaded me to steal Lya and run from the city. The six years together, hidden away in our home burrowed out of the cliffs, were ones I could never regret, despite the dangers and sadness that followed.

“I’d better go.” Lya stood and leaned her head against my shoulder. I longed to hold it there, cradle her dear head in my calloused hands, just for a moment, but she’d know. She always could. I had to go before she read the knowledge written in my eyes.

I watched as Lya hitched her skirts up into a knot. Her mother’s clothes were far too big for her, but she insisted on wearing them. I liked it. It was as if Reya still walked with us. With a yelp at the cold, Lya began to wade into the oily green water. Protesting was hopeless; she always helped me with the boat.

“Make sure you wash properly after.” I said to the slim of her back. She was cooing and chucking to the hatchlings as she pulled the boat around.

A shudder of foreboding made me pause. I lingered to take another look at Lya’s flowers. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. She’d planted them into holes dug in the cliff face, let strings of petals and leaves the ribbon in and out of the stunted trunks of the last trees still standing. Even with the cloud pressing grey and solid against the sky, eternally blocking the sun, the colours of Lya’s garden winked bright as stars. As if she’d scattered handfuls of sapphires and rubies into the ever-encroaching undergrowth.

The pain leaned in and forced my bones upright, glad I was facing. Away from her so she couldn’t see as I closed my eyes and let out a breath. I hoped I was doing the right thing. The operation was my only hope.

“Stop dreaming, old man!” she called as she held the boat, waist deep in the water, her eyes dancing with light The boat gave under me as I climbed in, that familiar sway and liquid bounce I’d known every day of my life.

“Be careful, Dad, won’t you?”

“Always,” I replied, but my throat was thick. She climbed the steps, taking care on the bank; the vines had already snarled their way to the clearing, climbing over the chopped heads of their brothers. Her skirts were slick with the water, the green oil staining the hem. I longed to take her with me but if we were caught, I would lose her. I wished I could stay for longer but the rot inside me was beginning to spread.

The boat slid smoothly into the green water. I couldn’t take my eyes from Lya as she stood at the doorway of the cave, her flowers blooming around her. I drank in every line, every shade of colour, the pearl of her hands and the grace of her shoulders. When I could no longer see her, I closed my eyes tightly, burning that last, bright image into my heart. I watched the river shoulder its way down through the cutting, its muscles flexing around rocks that stood proud. I checked on the hatchlings and swallowed a pill as the pain surged.

There was nothing to do but think as the boat carried me closer and closer to Skorn. I could already see it, a malevolent slick of oil that gleamed black on the horizon. Memories of its blackened towers and ashy streets, the stink of the desperate people who lived there, were haunting. I shook them away and thought of Lya’s garden.

AmandaYoung