Penchant 4.3

THE

PENCHANT

MIRACLE

Irvington High School’s Creative Writing Club is a student-run, interest-based club dedicated to providing a welcoming environment for writers of all kinds to convene and share their ideas outside of an academic setting. Members get a taste of publication through submitting to The Penchant, our online literary magazine. Meanwhile, monthly prompts, in-club competitions, and major writing contests are provided to allow members to explore the implications of writing, improve on their own techniques, and receive feedback from their fellow peers. Overall, our collective mission is to enable the students of Irvington to write what they wish and have their voices heard.

All images used are either submitted to us or public domain, CC0 photos. All rights remain reserved to their original owners, for those that have specified such guidelines.

Photo Credits: Cover 1| “Paper Boat” by Ahmed Zayan 2| “Six Books Hanging On Wall” by Toa Heftiba 3| “Birds Perched on Red Leafed Tree Branches” by Andrii Ganzevych 4| “Purple Flower in Tilt Shift Lens” by Jeffrey Hamilton 5| “White Flowers on Field” by Natasha Vasiljeva 6| “Free Nature Image” by Lala Miklos 7| “White Ceramic Mug on White Ceramic Saucer” by Tetiana Padurets 9| “Person Walking on Street While Holding Black Umbrella Near Cars” by Todd Diemer 10| “Photo of Three Butterflies Pollinating on Purple Petaled Flowers” by Karina Vorozheeva 11| “Nimbus Cumulus Clouds” by Tom Barrett 13| “Person Holding White Cigarette Stick” by Irina Iriser 14| “Low Angle Photography of Brown Concrete Building” by Christopher Ott 15| “Red and White Flower in Tilt Shift Lens” by Tony Homsy 16| “Selective Focus Photography Snowflakes” by Aaron Burden 17| “Body of Water During Golden Hour” by Joseph Barrientos 18| “Bonfire Near Seashore During Nighttime” by Kyle Peyton 19| “Brown House Near Body of Water” by Luca Bravo 21| “Mountains Under Starry Sky” by Adrian Pelletier 23| “Brooklyn Bridge During Golden Hour” by Colton Duke 24| “Pencil and Sharpener on Notebook Page” by Angelina Litvin 25| “Photo of Train Interior” by Andrew Scofield 28| “Red and White Petals on Ground” by Gabriel Meinert 29| “Chess Pieces” by Edith Soto 31| “Filoli Mansion - Library” by Jill Clardy 33| “Write More Letters” by Markus Reinhardt To learn more about us, visit our social media: Facebook: @penchantlitmag Instagram: @the_penchant Issuu: @penchantlitmag To see our submission guidelines, click on the “Submit To” tab on the menu bar, or follow us on Facebook @penchantlitmag.

the penchant Irvington | creative writing club EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Felicia Mo and Kelly Feng COMMISSION OVERSEER Janice Park CONTENT EDITORS Catherine You Nichelle Wong LAYOUT EDITORS Roland Zhang Helen Yuan LAYOUT Daniel Wang Felicia Mo Harnoor Nagra Mandy Liu

3

may 2021

TABLE OF

CONTENTS

6 15

miracle

18

10 29

Featured

Prose

Poetry

17| A Forgotten Story

3| The Gift of Living by Isabel Lai 6| Lightning Struck Twice, and Twice I Closed My Eyes by Oreo the Cookie 11| Black Cloud by Wraith 13| Saint Ellis by Harnoor Nagra 23| Chapter 3 by Blue 29| Queen’s Gambit by Sophie Mo 33| It’s a Miracle! by Aarya Morgaonkar

1| To Be Alive by Mykal Mashack 2| Miracle Collection by Green

By Red “The waves gently lapped against the shore, burying her ankles in the water and sand. In the day, the crystal emerald hue of the water filled her with joy and wonder. ”

POETRY

TO BE

A L I V E

1|The penchant||MAY 2021

by mykal mashack To be alive is a miracle, To take a breath is a gift.

Often we overlook this, And so our lives begin to drift.

Away and out to sea, In a terrible storm of anger and pain.

The boats of our souls have crashed and broke And we lose instead of gain.

‘What’s the purpose of being here,’ We think, searching for meaning in material.

We forget to look at what’s in front of us,

And consider

We lose ourselves in competition, And in what we have yet to do.

But there is no life without happiness, And many bid their life adieu.

But when the ship crashes, When the pain fills up our lungs, When our anchor drifts away, And when the anxiety ties our tongues, Remember nothing lasts forever, And that this too shall pass.

Don’t waste the miracle we

the beat of our were given, heart ethereal.

Don’t turn young dreams to ash.

MIRACLE COLLECTION

by green

MIRACLE 1 THEY The requirement is to be weak And small from the beginning, So they can say that the freak Became strong in their imagery.

You must be wallowing in misery, Unwanted by the world’s eyes That should uncover your mystery So they desire you as a prize.

Impossible claims labeled for lies And skepticism runs abound.

So after dreamers run their infinite tries Their success alas rings sound.

But if nothing beyond is miracle, Then I find them all hysterical!

MIRACLE 2 YOU Stop! Why put yourself down When you are the greatest among This “bright and better” town?

Trust me, I’ve heard praises sung About that strong, special, and young Prize of a loving, compassionate family, Who doesn’t know of sweet free tongue When carrying so much responsibility.

With your heart you brought possibility To the minds of people around you, Who have given you opportunity.

How can you not see that too?

Fine! Just look around for magic Find not the glory but the tragic.

MIRACLE 3 I He who parted the sea of red And was the son of ethereal Is a fable story I once read.

I myself have no such zeal.

No super strength or quicker heal Or savior of any suffering lives Not fearless sailor nor man of steel, All bulletproof and swishing knives.

False: the Luck Man in me contrives His guarded trait, so rare a thing.

Neither more laughter than previous cries Nor sudden flight with a broken wing.

I don’t believe in miracle bliss For I’m always here, I cannot miss.

MAY 2021||The penchant|2

PROSE “You know why I never take baths?” Half of Lotte’s mauve hair peeped up above the water as she blew bubbles in the bath, soap suds spreading over the tattoos inked all along her body.

“I certainly wish I did so that you’d do it more often,” a voice chided from the stairs, echoing its way into the extravagantly decorated bathroom. Lotte insisted on occupying the master bathroom for reasons nobody, or certainly Charlie, knew of.

Lotte let out a soft laugh, knowing one day she’d certainly miss this roommate of hers. It turns out living alone for hundreds of years was not “good for the soul,” as her doctor had told her decades ago when she handed over an apple and a hefty medical bill. That doctor had long passed, as association with a witch meant you had a free pass to burn at the stake. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she glanced

at her elbow, where an apple seedling lay permanently etched onto her skin.

“Maybe you’ll be on here too one day, Charlie.” Lotte brushed off droplets of water, revealing a blur of memories compressed into thousands of intricately-designed tattoos on her legs and torso, snaking up around her shoulders. Perhaps it was the fear that these memories would be washed away with time, that Lotte would someday forget the people that died for her, that the legacy of these people would die with her when she finally descended into madness.

Just maybe one person she knew would be free from this fate.

Just maybe.

-------------------------------------A swarm of crows flew in a giant flock, narrowly missing the road sign as it soared over a quaint corner store flower shop. The bells jingled as Lotte stepped outside, -

briefly smiling at the woman who studied the green stand’s flower selection.

“Need any help?” she called, heaving the hose to the flowers only to realize it wasn’t connected to the faucet.

“You got any morning glories?” the short woman shot back.

There were indeed no morning glories, as Charlie, her roommate, had taken them all home (with payment, of course).

Thalia, disappointed with this revelation, paced back and forth, staring at the flowers for another 15 minutes before settling on a bouquet of purple hyacinths. She cheerily made her way to the cafe across the street, seating herself into the deep cushion of a chair with an iced coffee.

She examined the flowers in detail and risked the possibility of looking like a deranged lunatic while she furiously sketched on her tablet in an attempt to replicate the hyacinths.

THE GIFT OF LIVING by isabel lai

3|The penchant||MAY 2021

Just maybe one person she knew would be free from this fate.

Just maybe.

It wasn’t often a forensic artist was allowed a day off to draw some puny little flowers.

Charlotte watched the scene unfold, humorously gazing at the happiness a simple set of flowers could bring to a person.

Moments like these made her feel like watering crops was not a waste of her hydrokinesis abilities—quite the perk for a water witch.

An hour hadn’t passed before Thalia’s phone rang for an ever-so-exciting surprise. Her chair let out a shriek as she moved to grab her purse. She hurriedly packed her supplies, hoping someone would tend to the hyacinths she left on the table. It would not sit well with her boss

to smell rosy while interviewing a witness of the most recent crime.

Dropping her keys off at the desk, she pulled up to the police station right in time to clock in. For decades, the police had been monitoring the witch population, disposing of them at will, then glorifying them in the next century.

Humanity never remained constant.

To be frank, Thalia would not have cared at all had her job for the past few months not been centered around killing these very creatures.

In fact, she pitied the witches for constantly living undercover, unable to reveal their true selves to the public. Unfortunately, this statement could cost her a job and a whole reeducation; thus, it remained one living in her head.

“What’s the news?” she asked as she propped up her laptop.

Officers ran around the station wildly, creating a buzz of excitement within the room. Not often did people become riled up like this, suggesting a world-ending secret had been released all while Thalia was looking at her beautiful flowers.

“Did you hear?” an elated voice shouted in her ear. Before she could scream, a pair of sparkling eyes popped up in front of her. “They found her!”

“Who? Who’s her?” Thalia remained confused. She had her suspicions, but she’d rather not keep her hopes up.

Sucking in her breath, her coworker, Robin, whispered, “The water witch.”

For months and months, Thalia had filled endless mountains of paperwork and drew hundreds of sketches, unable to find this mystery witch. Somehow, all it took was one slip-up and one particularly observant neighbor to discover the very identity of a singular being.

A moment of complete

numbness flooded Thalia’s body, unsure of how to react to the news.

On one hand, her job would finally be complete, and hours of painstaking work would finally pay off. Yet someone would die today. The very last descendant of the witch bloodline would finally end, and there would be no more. The witches would become merely a story written into a textbook once more. Placing her head into her palms, she stared blankly in the dark as she waited to meet the face of the infamous water witch.

----------------------------------------

MAY 2021||The penchant|4

PROSE Heavy pounding reverberated through the walls, shaking the already wobbly house on 318 Lilac Street.

Charlie ran to open the door, praying they would not knock it down before he got there. An entourage of policemen surrounded the chief, aiming their shields at the half-asleep boy. Looking around in confusion, he shook uncontrollably as his hands made their way up on their own.

“Where’s the witch?!” the police roared as they surveyed the house, only to find what looked like an average 20-year old’s home.

A flash of panic appeared in Charlie’s eyes, as he realized the day he imagined had finally come.

Someone had finally found out about Lotte. He knew one day, someone would take her away. One day, somebody would betray her and expose her to the government. One day, she would be gone.

That day had come sooner than anticipated.

Unwilling to speak, Charlie froze in the doorway. Shouts and screams flooded the room as the policemen detained him and barked on and on for an answer, yet all they ever received was silence.

Charlie’s voice remained closed, unable to speak as he sent a silent plea for help. It truly was admirable the loyalty that Charlie committed to Lotte. The hours of torture he went through. The tiring days of imprisonment. He remained silent even as it drove him insane.

However, like all people, Charlie cracked at one point, but his voice could not speak. It was as if someone had placed a seal, suppressing a secret never meant to be told. His voice was drowned out by waves, crashing over him and suffocating him. He stayed silent and unmoving until one day, his heart did too.

------------------------------------------

5|The penchant||MAY 2021

Thalia began to research the identities of the tenants, whether out of curiosity or impatience she did not know. A person by the name of Charlie Buschel lived there, yet the neighbor spoke of another girl who accompanied him. They spoke of a girl with short, purple hair, icy blue eyes, and the sweet, floral scent of morning glories.

Thalia stared at her drawing, remembering the girl from the flower shop earlier. An eerie feeling sunk to her stomach as she excused herself from the interview and drove back to the shop. As she ran over back to the green stand, she found Lotte clearing up the purple hyacinths she left on the cafe table earlier. Surprised to see her again, Lotte waved in the sunlight, motioning for her to come over.

Walking closer, Thalia pauses.

“Are you the witch?” she stares piercingly at Lotte. Only now did Lotte see the official badge clipped onto her jacket. A sad smile appeared across Lotte’s face. She had seen this scene unroll hundreds of times before, yet each time, she knew she would have to see it again.

The police were not far

behind Thalia, as the two heard the sirens nearing them. Thalia looked dumbfoundedly at Lotte. She did not run. She waited as the cars arrived, waited as she heard the orders, and waited as they pulled out their guns.

As the bullets rained on Lotte, an unknown force compelled Thalia to move. She screamed as she ran towards Lotte against her will, choking in fear as the bullets pierced her skin, her head, and her heart.

She screamed and screamed until all was silent again.

“I’m sorry,” Lotte whispered as she disappeared unharmed. “I’m sorry.”

Perhaps there was a Guardian Angel protecting Lotte, something that would not let her die no matter what.

What a miracle, wasn’t it?

The gift of living was ingrained into Lotte, and nothing could take it away.

The rain sang as the voices of Charlie, Thalia, and many others cried out in a chorus. The empty space below Lotte’s wrist soon became filled with the tattoo of two morning glories.

“Such a glorious day to be alive,” she murmured.

“Such a glorious day to be alive,” she murmured.

LIGHTNING STRUCK AND TWICE I CLOSED MY by oreo the cookie EYES

TWICE, Have you ever seen lightning strike twice in one place? Odds are, probably not. The chances of that happening are 1 in 9 million.

Apparently, though, the mechanics are more complicated than that. Lightning follows the path of least resistance through the air; therefore, it’s more likely that lightning will follow through the original channel the first bolt went through, rather than going through a different route.

Regardless, it’s a rare phenomenon. You even could call it a miracle, if you’re a “glass half-full” type of person.

1 in 9 million.

I wonder what the odds of meeting her were. ~~~ It’s not a nice story.

It’s not a drama, or a romcom, or one of those 3rd-rate slow-burn trash fics that you binge at 3 AM while under your blankets, unable to fall asleep.

It’s not really a story of anything, really.

There’s no hero, no girl, and certainly no riding off into the shining sunset happily ever after. If there was, I wouldn’t be writing it, trying to find closure in such an laughable way.

… At the end of the day, it’s just a pointless, pathetic story. It’s sad and meaningless and forgettable, like a lot of everything else in life.

But I need to tell it. I need to get it off my mind, because I can’t get it off my mind.

I’ve given up on trying to figure this mess out because I can’t.

I’m tired and desperate and it’s 12 in the morning, so I’m just going to write.

Like most stories, this story begins with a man and a woman.

Well, teenagers, really. And like most stories that fall into this type of cliche, they don’t know each other, and they don’t intend to– No. Let’s start over.

There’s a boy and a girl.

The boy is your typical high school slacker, the average student coasting his day-to-day life with shallow entertainment and meaningless conversation, calling it “living in the moment.” He’s 15 and hasn’t really gotten a taste of the world yet. He’s got ambitions and dreams, but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it yet because turning 18’s still 3 years away and to him, that’s a whole lifetime.

The girl is… well, to this day,

I’m not sure who she is, or who she’s meant to be. She’s 15 as well, but she’s prepared, studying ahead, ready to enter the real world.

She’s got ambitions and dreams, and she’s already laid out the groundwork to act on them because turning 18’s only 3 years away and for her, that’s not enough time to do all the things she wants to do.

Neither of them know the other.

Sure, you could say that they do know of each other, given the fact that they’ve been stuck in the same classes since middle school, but they don’t know the other. Not as classmates, and certainly not as friends.

It’s by a coincidence, a mere sliver of a chance that they meet that first summer day. It’s maybe 8, maybe 9 in the morning, in the library. School’s barely a month out, and there’s plenty of time before the new school year starts up in September. He’s been sitting alone at one of the window-side tables for the past 2 hours, reading through a stack of light novels whose name I don’t remember–maybe 10, maybe 12 books in total.

When she arrives with her pile of prep books–SAT, AP Bio, who knows what else–and slides MAY 2021||The penchant|6

into the seat opposite of him, he doesn’t even look up. Sure, he notices her on some degree, but he doesn’t really see her, no, not really.

Another hour passes, maybe two, accompanied by a cup of coffee.

He gets up from his seat once or twice to stretch his legs out, but other than that the time spent in his little corner of the world is pleasant and quiet.

Somewhere in between the flickering stretches of time, in between the journey from page-to-page, volume-to-volume, he notices that the girl has fallen asleep.

And for the first time, he sees her.

Details pass through his head as he sets aside the 3rd volume he’s read and looks at her. She’s put her head to the table, arms folded and head nestled against them. Eyes closed in deep sleep, black hair that spills over her shoulders, a set of red headphones over her ears. Mouth set in a neutral line.

The boy sees the girl, and maybe for a second, maybe more, she’s the only person that matters because it’s just the two of them here, it’s just the two of them in the library, it’s just the two of them in this tiny slice of the world that no one else knows about, sharing the silence.

Two silent companions that don’t even know each other’s name.

He vaguely gets the feeling that he knows her, but he doesn’t, he really doesn’t, and he can’t quite place the familiarity because he doesn’t know her.

But that moment breaks as she stirs, and then finally wakes up.

When she finally looks up, he can suddenly put a name to a face that he vaguely remembers, a face he’s seen hundreds of times but doesn’t quite know, no, not really–the girl in front of him is Selina Ko. There’s a long silence as they stare at each other, before he finally decides to stick his hand out and introduce himself.

That, of course, is when she finally recognizes him.

I’m sure that every person who’s read something along the lines

7|The penchant||MAY 2021

of high school romance can tell how this cliche-packed situation is going to turn out. It’s trashy, and it’s predictable.

So, of course, the boy and the girl end up having lunch together and just talking to each other. That’s when they really start to know each other.

The boy learns about the girl he’s talking to, his classmate, the person who has sat across him all morning without neither him nor her realizing. He learns that she has 2 younger siblings–one sister in the 9th grade, one brother in the 2nd. He learns that she plans to major in business, and that she plans to become a management consultant in the future. He learns that she’s studying for the SAT, AP Biology, AP US History, and AP English, all rolled into library sessions where she drills herself on what’s needed to pass and to succeed. He learns that she’s an advanced pianist and also a skilled creative writer, and that those are her hobbies that she’s got a clear handle on, to develop and to master.

His life is nothing like that.

He doesn’t have plans to major in anything, and he definitely doesn’t know where he wants to work in the future. He isn’t studying for anything, and his hobbies consist of sleeping, reading, and playing video games.

It was just… living. That’s how it was.

Compared to her, his life was average. It lacked material accomplishments, checkpoints, and goals. He was wandering in life, aimlessly drifting from one thing to another as it suited his whims.

Though the discussion is admittedly off-putting, he doesn’t think much of it at first. After all, his policy has always been to “live in the moment.” One thing at a time, take it all in one at a time. Don’t worry about the past or the future; live in the present and indulge in the present.

It’s only looking back at the discussion that he figures out what messes with him.

That’s right– He wasn’t doing anything

with his life.

He wasn’t thinking, just lazing around. He wasn’t studying, just lazing around. He wasn’t planning ahead, just lazing around.

Rather, he had been using the excuse of “living in the moment” as nothing more than a justification for his laziness.

So much for living in the moment.

“This type of living is fine, isn’t it?”

It was ironic, really. It was far easier to bury himself in entertainment than it was to admit that he wasn’t living the ideal life he wanted. And so it was laughably ironic that that type of comment would be the one to make him realize the complete opposite. ~~~ Of course, I’m oversimplifying. But it’s easier that way. You can skip past the dull days and nights that were never more than just jumbled assortments of movement from one place to another, devoid of purpose or meeting; you can skip past the late-night-early-morning binges of forgettable animes and unremarkable mangas.

“This type of living is fine, isn’t it?”

Selina Ko was the one who helped me put together a life I didn’t know I wanted until I’d talked to her for the first time. It was the conversations with her from there–asking, answering, searching–that had helped me slowly piece together what to do with my life.

Our meeting–that one-in-a-million chance–was the focal point for every other change in my life.

I picked up writing. I picked up my grades in the year after that. I even managed to pick up a 33 on the ACT. I paid her back by doing absolutely nothing. ~~~ Our last meeting–if you could even call it that–was in the library.

I hadn’t actually planned on

going to the library that day, but the library had managed to secure one of the newest volumes of the series I was currently on, so I was headed there to pick it up. Along the way, I had stopped by to peruse the shelves in the light novel section for more things to read–it was still summer, after all.

As a result, I ended up staying for another couple more hours, rather than the 15-minute trip I had expected.

I never went to my spot, though.

Selina was there–she always was there, every time I went–and as usual, her head had been buried in prep books for the entirety of my stay. I had planned to drop by and say hello when I was going to leave, but that had been looking like less and less of a possibility as I kept reading.

When I had finally finished the volume I was on, I finally looked up, and noticed that sometime in the middle of my read, she’d set aside the prep books into one big pile, and started fidgeting with her laptop instead.

She was writing something on her laptop in short bursts of high-speed typing, but then all of a sudden, she just… stopped.

She closed her laptop and then shoved it to the side so forcefully that the precarious pile of prep books toppled over, but she didn’t care. She took off her headphones and put them on the table and put her head in her hands.

It was a while before I realized, like some old, broken-down computer, that she was crying. In a little bubble of the world where no one was paying attention, Selina Ko was crying.

There she was, one of the people who had become one of my closest friends and someone who had helped me get my life on track, someone who had seemed to have her entire life held together in a well-structured and orderly manner, her composure breaking like it was made of glass.

It made me uneasy. I knew I should’ve said something, or offered MAY 2021||The penchant|8

I had a miracle and I wasted it.

my help like she had, or at least just sat down in front of her because any support would’ve been useful.

But instead, I I left her there.

I just LEFT her there.

I Words are unable to convey the degree of self-loathing I have for myself in this moment.

I didn’t even bother to try and muster the courage to do something, do anything. Instead, I just put my books that I was going to check out onto the shelf and I left the area in a quick walk before booking it out of the library and going home.

She never noticed me. As far as she was concerned, I’m sure that she thought she was alone in the library.

I don’t think that it crossed her mind once that, a couple bookshelves away, there was a bastard that could and should’ve said something, said anything, even then.

You couldn’t have done more.

9|The penchant||MAY 2021

Some people have to work out their problems by themselves.

You had no business interfering.

That’s what I told myself that day after I had made my way home. Instead of owning up to what I did, I rationalized and justified my cowardice and my selfishness.

I thought I could be better.

I was wrong.

I never talked to her again.

Not because she found out about what happened.

No. It’s because to this day, I never told her. Instead, I just ghosted her and never talked to her again.

Like the miserable, two-bit person I am, I had a miracle and I

wasted it.

I never saw her again. ~~~ I had my chances.

I’m sure our first meeting might’ve counted as a miracle of some sort. If I hadn’t met her, I’m sure that I would still be my old self: lazing around, doing nothing. That short, cliched meeting–that had changed everything in my life.

Except it was just that–short and cliched.

Looking back, it was as if lightning struck right in front of me.

It was something that was supposed to be entrancing, dazzling, brilliant, whatever adjective you want to tack on to it.

The average lightning strike lasts for around 0.2 seconds. In that short span of time, you’re amazed.

You’re blinded. You’re awed. A myriad of emotions can pass through you in that instant, but once the moment passes, it’s gone forever, and you won’t be able to remember that sensation again.

Except when it’s finished, what follows isn’t what you expect. As the colors and lights fade, you realize that it wasn’t actually captivating or delighting at all; instead, it was only the illusion of being overwhelmed that gave you that impression, and you had simply become lost in the moment.

What’s left isn’t the gentle wistfulness to experience something like that again. Instead, there’s an image that’s painfully seared its way into your brain and a ringing in your ears that blocks out everything else.

How could I have ever thought I had a chance of picking up my life and becoming a better person if I folded like a limp rag because I was too afraid to try and help someone?

How could I have ever

strung myself along like that, thinking I could become a better person?

In life, I’ve found that there are few things that you can be sure of.

But this was–is–will

be–one of them.

“This type of living is fine, isn’t it?”

I’m sure that one day, I’ll forget what that sentence meant to me. I’m sure that one day, this recount will be rendered meaningless by the passage of time, turned into nothing more than words thrown together to make a block of text that meant absolutely nothing at all.

I’m sure that one day, this chapter in the book of life will eventually be forgotten and disappear, left in a corner of the dusty confines of a library that nobody visits anymore.

I’m sure of that, because it’s as I said before. At the end of the day, it’s just a pathetic, meaningless story.

MAY 2021||The penchant|10

PROSE

BLACK CLOUD by wraith I looked up at the sky as large droplets of rain beating down on the sidewalk. The sky was a gloomy gray. Great. The forecast hadn’t said anything about rain, yet here it was. I trudged my way to the bus stop and sat on the bench, my already messy hair now damp. After waiting for 15 minutes, my bus arrived, late as it always was.

“Good morning Katherine!”

John greeted, perpetually cheerful.

I mumbled a reply, hoping it sounded genuine, and moved to my usual seat. The stench of gasoline and smoke hung in the air, and as I sat down, I could feel some sort of hardened gum left behind on the seat.

Good morning indeed.

Out the window was the same boring old route that we passed everyday, with the old gas station and the grocery store. I felt my eyes droop but I stayed upright, forcing my body to function on the measly four hours of sleep I’d gotten last night. The bus arrived at my stop and jerked to a stop. I got off and started walking to the enormous office building that I had started working at just last week, thinking of the pointless day ahead. The fat drops of water were coming in full force now, and my blouse and skirt were soaked as I entered the building.

As I sat down in my cubicle, Nia from the next desk slid over to me. She wouldn’t let me work in peace today, either, would she?

“Hey Katherine! Where did you get that skirt? It looks absolutely

11|The penchant||MAY 2021

fabulous on you!” she exclaimed.

This was the only pencil skirt that had been on sale and one could see why the store had been so eager to get rid of it. It was the only one that worked with my budget. She didn’t need to mock me about it though.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly.

“Now, I have a lot of work I need to get to, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh yeah, sure,” she replied with a slightly disappointed look.

I felt bad, but I didn’t have time for idle chit-chat.

I opened up the ancient desktop on my desk and waited for it to load. It eventually started up, and I started working on the files left for me at my desk in silence.

A bathroom break.

A lunch break.

Another bathroom break to touch up my drugstore-bought makeup and hide the circles under my eyes.

The day went on and on. I couldn’t help glancing at my watch, frustrated. Finally, at 5 PM, I shut down my computer, put the incomplete files back in their place, grabbed my purse, and headed out.

I walked to my second bus stop of the day and sat down, tapping my foot against the pavement. The rain still hadn’t let up, and my clothes, which hadn’t had a chance to dry in the first place, were cold and sopping wet.

The bus arrived, and I stepped in, still shivering from the cold. I expected to feel some warmth upon entering, but the bus was as

cold as a tundra. I sighed and rolled my eyes inwardly. It wasn’t like I should’ve expected anything better.

“Beautiful weather we’re having!” Anna smiled at me.

I gave her a nod of acknowledgement and moved on.

It wasn’t in me to remain civil anymore.

I started dozing off a few times, but I managed not to fall asleep. At last we arrived at the last stop on the route. I was the only one to get off.

O’Connor Children’s Hospital.

I pasted a smile on my face and walked inside.

“Hi Mrs. Meadows. You can go on up,” Amanda, the receptionist, said softly upon spotting me.

I took the elevator up to Jamie’s floor; the children’s ward.

The kids there were lying listlessly on their beds, more beds empty than there had been yesterday. I made my way to the far corner, where Jamie was listening to music from the new iPod his father and I had bought him.

At the sight of me, Jamie’s face broke into a grin, and it took everything in me to keep the smile

on my face from wobbling.

“Hi Mama! It rained today!

Did you see?” He asked with glee only a child could manage.

I gave him a strained smile. “I saw sweetheart. It was beautiful.”

“It’s my favorite!”

I knew.

“Do you wanna know what I did today??” he asked me eagerly.

“Of course, sweetheart. Tell me everything,” I invited.

He explained to me how he’d had chemo done today and how the doctor had given him Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stickers for how good he was.

After he was done going over the whole day, he said softly, “Mama, I don’t know if I’ll be okay.”

I blinked back my tears and gently squeezed his once chubby hand, now bony, and said, “Of course you are, darling. You’re a fighter, remember?”

Quieter still. “I don’t know if I can fight anymore.”

This was it. This was the inevitable conversation I had been terrified of. As Jamie’s condition had steadily gotten worse, the doctors had put him in the ICU and what with the bills being what they were, I had to take up a full time job because Nicholas’s paycheck couldn’t cover them all. Both of us kept praying each day that it would all get better. But it hadn’t.

“I know you can Jamie. You can fight this, you hear me?” I replied forcefully, desperately. I couldn’t stop the tears that welled up though I had tried so hard to act cheerful.

However, I got the perfect distraction in the form of Dr. Bennett, Jamie’s oncologist.

“Good evening, Katherine,” she said.

“Doctor. How is he?” I asked, skipping over pleasantries.

Her green eyes turned to me with sorrow and sympathy.

“Katherine… I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the test results came in and… this treatment isn’t working either.”

She put a hand on my arm. I could barely feel it.

“What? Why? You said this

one could work!” I said, accusatory. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I could barely think past what this could mean.

“I said it could. I’m sorry.

His body is failing, Katherine. Jamie is a resilient child. If anyone can make it, I know it’ll be him. We’re not going to give up, I promise. But I don’t know if there’s much left we can do for him,” she said gently. I felt my heart drop.

“Please excuse me,” I mumbled and hurried to the bathroom. I couldn’t hold back the sobs threatening to escape during the day. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was how it was going to play out. The cancer had come so quickly. One second, our happy, healthy child was running around our yard without a care in the world, and the next he had been replaced by the somber child in the sickbed whose real personality I came by fleetingly.

I knew there were no such things as miracles.

I went home at 3 AM, when it was Nicholas’s turn to stay with Jamie, and sleep came fleetingly. ~ 1 month later I woke up, my eyes swollen, prepared to not be able to witness Jamie’s laughter or his messes or his playfulness. The house felt empty, void of the evidence of life.

I made myself a cup of coffee when I got a call from Nicholas. “...Hello?” I said tentatively, fearing the worst. This is how it had been since Jamie had asked to stop the treatment. I was devastated at his choice, but I didn’t want to cause him any more pain than he had to

bear, and after Dr. Bennett had given us the test results, we thought it was best.

“Kat! This is good news, I think. Can you come to the hospital right now? Dr. Bennett has something she needs to tell both of us,” Nicholas’s voice came in at the other end, confused but hopeful.

“I… I can come right now,” I stammered, eyes wide.

“Alright. See you in 15. Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.” I rushed to the hospital, throwing on whatever clothes I could find and putting my hair up into something that vaguely resembled a ponytail.

I headed straight to the elevator, greeting Amanda quickly.

My hands were shaking from the nerves. As I stepped onto Jamie’s floor, Dr. Bennett came to greet me with Nicholas hot on her heels.

“Doctor? What’s wrong?” I asked cautiously, preparing for the worst.

“The cancer is receding,” she said simply.

“Wh-what?” I asked, pressing a hand to my chest, where my heart was beating 20 miles a minute. I looked at Nicholas who looked as astonished as I felt.

“Jamie is going to get better,” she replied.

“It was spreading though. It was unbeatable,” Nicholas voiced the words on the tip of my tongue.

“I’m at as much loss as you guys are right now,” Dr. Bennett shrugged and smiled, handing us the results of the test conducted. It was just the routine test done. The doctors hadn’t expected any change but it was written clear as day.

“Thank you so much, doctor,” I choked out.

I went to Jamie’s bed and sat down on the edge. The cancer that had been such a black cloud on our family was going away, after they’d told us we had no hope.

I knew James Ethan Meadows was a blessing but I was only now realizing that he was also a miracle.

MAY 2021||The penchant|12

PROSE

SAINT ELLIS by harnoor nagra

K pulled a lighter from their pocket and started to reach for a cigarette.

“God, could you please not do that here,” whined Ellis. They were in a room that couldn’t have been larger than 15 feet in any direction. Along one wall were provisions–all the basic necessities for survival. There was a bathroom tucked into one corner. All of it was stark shades of white and grey. And Ellis wasn’t exactly sure if oxygen was circulating.

Oh no. A new fear. Maybe they had just left her in her to slowly run out air with no one but K for company. She felt sorry for K more than anything else.

They tucked the cigarette back into a pocket inside their clothes. K wore a simple black suit that had a surprising number of hidden pockets. She was pretty sure they were an agent from some country. She’d managed to find out nothing about them in the week they had been stuck in here. They looked like they could have been from quite literally anywhere in the world, mid-toned brown skin with hair that seemed to be both black and brown at once.

“I have a high-stress job. I need to cope,” said K. “Think about who you’re talking to,” replied Ellis.

K chuckled.

“What’s your real name?”

Ellis asked suddenly, hoping to catch them off guard.

“K.”

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“Your parents named you K?” “Who said I had parents?”

Ellis let out a frustrated screech. “We’re gonna die together, you might as well tell me something.”

“Read a book.”

“They’re all boring, and I’ve finished two of them a row.”

“Austen is hardly boring.”

So they had read a Jane Austen novel. That was something.

That was one point to the British category. K spoke in a sort of London accent that alternated between posh and casual. But Ellis was starting to think it was only because that was the accent that Canadians considered to be the voice of authority. When they had been in China, K had spoken what sounded like fluent Mandarin. And then they had gotten a phone call and immediately switched to a language that seemed vaguely Nordic.

“We’re not going to die,” K said after Ellis didn’t respond.

“They only gave us so much food.”

“They’ll give us more.”

“Who even knows where we are? Where would they even enter through? How is the air in here circulating?” Ellis asked frantically.

K was silent. Nothing about them seemed panicked.

“I’ll bring you back if you tell me your real name,” Ellis said, changing the subject again.

“You’d have to kill me first.”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

K smirked.

Both of them were silent for a very long time. Ellis traced the outlines of the single light that illuminated the room. It would go out periodically, and they would both retreat to their beds. But it was too bright to ever sleep when it was on.

Ellis wondered if this was all some sort of classical conditioning experiment.

“Who said I had parents?”

“I wanted to be an engineer,” Ellis said, breaking the unbearable silence.

K raised an eyebrow, the most emotion they had expressed in days.

“I can’t remember what it was like to be that person. I wanted to move to some big city. Probably San Francisco. Maybe New York. Or even Austin.”

K only nodded to show that they were listening.

Ellis felt her voice crack. “I don’t want to waste away here. I want to be out there. I want to–I don’t know what I want. To help people I guess? Surely I am worth more out there than I am here.”

“There’s a war,” said K. Ellis was silent. There hadn’t been one the last time they were outside. Ellis didn’t know why she had assumed there wouldn’t be one.

Humanity was terrible.

After a while, she said, “Do they want me to die?”

“Some do. The Vatican, I assume, wants you locked away.

Most religious groups aren’t big fans of you, don’t really trust you. You’ve sort of made an enemy of every right-wing party in the world. They found out the kind of person you were before… all this. But most people want you alive and active.

You’re probably the most valuable resource in the world right now.”

Sometimes the moments that change your life start out so incredibly mundane and sometimes they start during the worst moment of your life. Ellis was in a church parking lot of all places, sitting behind the wheel of the world’s most hideous car. Some song older than she was buzzed on the radio. The singer said something about love saving him. She punched the radio.

Liar.

She held a little cardboard box. It was from some small business because Helen didn’t shop on Amazon. It had a few shirts inside. A bracelet. Some pottery. She had even returned the letters that Ellis had written. Ellis sobbed. She sobbed even though it made her feel stupid. And she sobbed even though she had done the breaking up. And she sobbed while the radio kept talking about the most exquisite type of love.

She did not know how long she had been crying by the time she noticed the odd shape in the lake.

Stepping out into the cold winter air, she saw the figure. No bigger than a smudge in the distance, but distinctively human, floating in the lake by the church. The ice that lined the ground was slick at her feet as she ran towards the half-frozen over water. About a dozen feet from shore Ellis could see the body of a child–they looked no older than

12–and their face was streaked with a deep red.

Still fully clothed, Ellis jumped into the water. She shook for a second from the shock of the ice-cold water. She really hated living in Canada. Teeth chattering, she willed her shivering body to swim towards the boy. Her lungs were on fire by the time she got there, and she was scared her muscles would spontaneously stop working. But all of that stopped when she saw the boy.

Oh, God. She had hoped that the red streak wasn’t blood. The best way to describe it was that his head had been caved in, and he reeked of early decomposition. Oh God. Oh God. She couldn’t look as he dragged him to shore, the muscle ache unnoticeable over the sickness in her stomach. How could this have happened? Who was this poor kid?

Oh God. She didn’t want to think about it.

MAY 2021||The penchant|14

Collapsing on the snowy bank, her shaking hands searched for her phone. She guessed she would need to call 911. Except her phone was soaking wet, and the screen was flashing strange colors.

Hot tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t move. She was too cold and too tired. She couldn’t look at that poor kid. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted him to just be alive. She wanted for something so horrible to never have happened.

She reached out to touch his face. He was younger than she had originally assumed. Only about 8 or 9. “I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over again as she struggled up to her feet. She would need to talk to someone at the church. Her entire body shook and ached as she crawled up to all fours. She was still whispering apologies to this poor kid. She extended a hand to stroke his cheek.

“I’m sorry I was too late,” she said, tasting her tears. She wished she could just will him back to life. To reverse something that should have never happened.

And then she was warm. It started at her fingers and quickly spread across her entire arm. She

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noticed the light second. The day was a miserable grey one, but suddenly it was as if she was staring directly into the sun. And then she was flying.

Not really flying. She was sort of thrown by some unseen force. She felt the wind get knocked from her as if she collided with a tree.

It must have been a while later when she came to. The sky was darker. And a man–she did not know him–stood looking down at her. He was crying. Why was he crying? He knelt down to look at her, slowly reaching out a hand. She was still half-dreaming and the part of her that was awake ached, but she knew enough to not let a strange man touch her face.

She crawled back. He was in all black? No. There was a little white at his collar. A pastor.

“I don’t go to church,” she said, still unaware of how she got here.

The pastor said something incomprehensible about a return or rebirth or something. Tears were still welling in his eyes.

Then she remembered what had happened. Her hands were crusted with blood. “The kid,” she

said.

The pastor only nodded and continued.

“Where’s the kid?” she asked.

He did not answer, only continued to recite.

“Where’s the kid?!” she asked again, louder this time.

A woman came up to her.

She wore some kind of uniform.

“Give her space,” she said, swatting the pastor away. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, her face was very sharp. She made a sort of prayer motion with her hands as she approached Ellis.

“I think you may want to see the security footage,” she said to the pastor who was still standing next to them. The man, who seemed to be at least 50, sprinted towards the church.

The woman helped her up.

“What’s going on?” asked Ellis.

“It seems as though you may be a newly minted saint. Or the second coming of Christ. Or the Anti-Christ. Or a space alien.

Depending on who you ask,” she said.

Ellis chuckled uncomfortably. Was she on the

world’s weirdest prank show?

After that, it had been everything at once. A hospital visit.

Meeting the president. And every other world leader. And most religious leaders. And labs and testing. And talking to about a thousand doctors. And after the doctors and scientists couldn’t figure out what she was, they brought in the spiritualists.

All the while she had revived a few hundred animals and about a dozen people. But she couldn’t always do it. And there wasn’t a pattern to it. She had revived adulterous gamblers and philanthropists all the same. All insignificant people. She had known there was a tension growing across the world as they slowly realized how unexplainable she was.

She may have made a few comments that made it worse. Like saying that she wouldn’t revive Ronald Reagan as a joke on Larry King. That hadn’t gone over too well.

It wasn’t a lie, she was pretty against reviving most historical figures, but that perhaps was not the best choice.

Of course, every part of her existence had been analyzed. She was liberal. She didn’t go to church.

She probably drank a little more than she should.

And then came the safe houses. Bunkers in remote parts of the world with no one but K for company. Neither of them knew where they were. Perhaps Greenland. Or Antarctica. Maybe even the Sahara. They had been drugged before they were brought here. And now they sat looking at each other in a room with no doors.

How many people had died because of her? She would bet money that the nukes would come out soon. Or maybe they would kill her before then. Or maybe K and her would be the only two people left.

And those people that live on remote islands.

This world did not deserve miracles.

“This world did not deserve miracles” MAY 2021||The penchant|16

PROSE Miracles. What are they really? Is everything a miracle? Or is nothing a miracle? Was it a miracle that he got a job? That she finally had a breakthrough? Maybe it was a miracle, or maybe it wasn’t, but for how often the word “miracle” pops up in people’s minds, nobody seems to question where the term comes from. Can they even imagine the pain of the spirit tethered to the Earth for thousands of years, waiting for them? Just trying to be seen, to be heard? Please, just anything, to let people know she’s there. She’s just trying to help them, but nobody notices her, not anymore. On this cold night where the mist settles low on rooftops, where she sits atop the house looking down at the ocean, her memories come to torment her once again.

It was an ancient civilization, a place only known by the term Aladonia. The people there lived in their own world, with stories of a history never recorded in any book. They worshiped the gods, especially the Sea God, as they were an island nation. However, they started hurting the sea. They took advantage of it and the Sea God, and they paid for it. The Sea God cursed their country, and misfortune fell upon all of them. With people dying at every turn, sickness plaguing every house, and the economy in ruins, not a single day went by without misery. Every day, the people lived through fear, doubts, and darkness. Until finally, one day, a girl changed everything.

She was a child, born to a mother cursed with the misfortune of dying when she gave birth, and a

father that had an unfortunate passing a few months before. Being a part of this civilization, the curse attacked her as well. However, she always tried to help the people around her, but they didn’t want it.

They lived so long through pain, they didn’t know how to accept anything else. However, no matter what happened every day, no matter how many people told her to hate the Sea God, she couldn’t. Through each misfortune, each moment, the sea was the only place she found comfort. The waves gently lapped against the shore, burying her ankles in the water and sand. In the day, the crystal emerald hue of the water filled her with joy and wonder.

At night, it seemed like she was swimming among the stars. The loud unhappiness of the country didn’t affect her here.

The Sea God was initially angry that the girl had come to seek their domain for comfort, when they were the one that had been hurt by the same people she was part of. But curiosity overtook them. The girl never asked for anything, she seemed simply content being near the water, being in the water. She was kind to the ocean and the animals living in it, but the Sea God wasn’t convinced. This had happened before, and the people had just taken advantage of them.

So one day, they appeared to the girl. Made of water, they let their human shape take form, their skin the dark blue full of stars. The girl’s eyes looked up in wonder, and smiled. The Sea God raised an

A FORGOTTEN STORY 17|The penchant||MAY 2021

by red

eyebrow in indifference, but they sat down next to the girl. The water dripped down onto the sand and the footsteps they left behind settled deep into the sand. The water shifted until they appeared again, sitting right next to her. She looked up at the Sea God in awe, tentatively raising a hand to touch them. Her hand went right through their arm, the tips of her fingers going past the liquid surface. Her eyes widened, reflecting the stars in the water until she started laughing. Her high pitched laughs rang through the night air as she fell backwards into the sand, clutching her stomach.

The Sea God, curious as ever, laid down next to her, trying to figure her out. What was her motive? She smiled, tears in her eyes, and looked at them, eyes shiny with a completely different light.

“I found you,” she sighed.

Over the next few weeks, when the girl came to visit the ocean, the Sea God accompanied her. She got them smiling in just a few evenings. There was one time she even made a flower crown for them, but it fell right through their head, causing them to burst out laughing. They took it out and placed it on top of the water that made up their hair, this time, making sure it stayed there. The afternoons, early mornings, and late nights, went on like this. The Sea God grew fond of the girl, but every day when she left, the Sea God was reminded of the misfortunes that would befall her while she was away.

Curses weren’t things that went away at the flick of a finer. They were powerful things, so they took years to level out. They would never go away completely, just reaching a level that didn’t harm the world as

“I found you”

much it did before. The Sea God sighed, and looked at the flickering bonfire roaring from the center of the village. It was the only day the people tried to be happy, the day they celebrated the birth of their nation. As the people danced around in the sand, the Sea God wondered if they shouldn’t have cursed this country.

The next evening, the girl brought a younger child with her. A girl, who was old enough to be able to stand confidently, but still wobbled a bit on her feet. When the girl settled down onto the sand, she picked up the toddler, and in one swift motion, dropped the girl in her lap. The child gazed up at the Sea God, not even blinking once. Then her arms started to come up, arms reaching for them. The Sea God, startled, looked at the girl, but she smiled at them. Picking up the baby, she held her in front of the Sea God, who stared down at the young human for a second, before carefully reaching for her.

They settled her against his chest, careful to make the water that encompassed them a solid wall. She looked up at them again, before shifting in their arms and closing their eyes. It only took a few minutes before she fell asleep. The Sea God broke out to a full grin. The small child in their arms breathed small, shallow breaths, and made cute little noises every now and then as she shifted. The girl eventually fell MAY 2021||The penchant|18

asleep as well, falling to lean against their shoulder.

toddler, and the girl. They were gone.

Sitting in the sand with the girl and the toddler, the Sea God felt content. Happy. Maybe not all humans were as bad as they thought them to be. But the peace didn’t last long. The waves started crashing against the shore. Harder and harder, higher and higher, pulling in the girl and baby. Unguarded, the Sea God didn’t notice what was happening, until the water pulled out the weight in their arms and shoulder. They were gone. The

“No, no, no, no!” Humans couldn’t breathe underwater. It was a simple solution, they simply pulled them back from under the water, but when they were out, the children started coughing. They tried to breathe, to get as much air into their lungs as they could, in fear they would never be able to again. The Sea God rushed to both of them, covering them in a blanket of the warm water that made them, and lulled them to sleep once again. The

19|The penchant||MAY 2021

curse was still in effect, and it would continue to do anything to hurt the people of this country. They needed to stop this.

By the end of the next day, the Sea God had pulled back the curse, but it would take years for the curse to go away completely. The Sea God needed to protect the girl, and the people she cared about.

Maybe even the rest of the country’s people if they no longer harmed the sea. So the next day, when the girl came by the ocean, staring into the shimmering green sea, the Sea God

appeared in front of her. She smiled at them, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Not when the ocean had just tried to kill her last night. The Sea God wrapped her in a warm hug, before pulling back to touch her forehead.

They chanted in their language, “Nameless child, I send you out into the world as Miraclae, and gift you the power to bring fortune to those who need it. Your need to do good in the world will start here. Love the Earth, love the plants, the oceans, the animals. Love the burning fires, the calm mists.

Love the people who call this place their home.”

When she opened her eyes, the murky brown that used to rarely let her light shine turned soft. A warm chocolate that enveloped the person that looked into them, in warmth and safety. The mark that represented her name appeared on her forehead, in a gold rimmed turquoise, the same color of the ocean when the sun shone. Her short tangled hair turned a brilliant golden hue, and her skin cleared up to reveal the beautiful olive underneath all the dirt and pain.

Her bright eyes gleamed up at them, asking silent questions. They chuckled down at her, and settled into the sand.

“Patience, my child. I’ll show you the ropes, don’t worry” they answered, a lilt in their tone.

Now, they were finally happy.

Nothing could ever hurt their child again, and she would be able to protect the ones close to her, maybe even more than that.

Over the next few months, the Sea God helped the girl with her abilities, and guided her through the towns to help her use them. She helped many people, families, children, people who were buried in darkness so deep it seemed impossible to lift them out of it. But she did it. She went all around, and helped them. The curse was not completely gone, but it was being nullified by her gifts. The people stopped fearing the Sea God. They grew happier, brighter. The towns and villages cleared up, and the air grew lighter. People were smiling once again, and they made sure to be careful about how they were treating the world around them.

Miraclae was loved by every person, by every family. Every door was open for her, every heart let her in.

But she was still human.

When the curse was brought to the least harmful state it could be, the young girl the Sea God had known was about 40. There were

those who tried to take advantage of her power, but they never succeeded. The misfortune still affected people, but they worked it out, and Miraclae still went to people who had been suffering the misfortune for long, or for people who worked hard and even harder than that. Every person she could reach, she would help.

Eventually, it became her time to leave. The Sea God saw her off in her final moments, watching her soul leave her body and reshape into the young 21 year old she’d been. Her hair had grown longer, but she cut it short again. Her limbs filled out and she grew taller than most of the women in the country.

The Sea God wasn’t in charge of where she would go now, but they were able to give her a choice.

“Miraclae, my child. You have helped those in need throughout your lifetime, even those who seemed beyond it in so many ways, You never lost hope, in the earth and in your people, and now, it is your time to rest. However, I can give you a choice. You can stay rest for 60 years and return to Earth as a spirit to help those you can, or you can become reincarnated. The choice is yours, my child. Choose whichever will bring you more joy.”

The Sea God stared up at the now faint translucent eyes of the girl’s soul, but even now, after death, they were still sparkling.

“I am tired. 80 years will do that to a person” she chuckled. “But I would like to stay and help others.

I still have people I care about here, and I would like to stick around to see the future. I want to help the ones who need it, and make sure the future is a bright place. I-” The Sea God stood and developed the girl in their embrace. Their light still hadn’t faded, even after all these years, and that made the Sea God happier than they had ever been before. Why had they ever expected otherwise? Taking her hand, the two descended into the water. The Sea MAY 2021||The penchant|20

God hoped, even as the years went on, the girl would never lose that spark.

After 60 years, in which she had explored the waters and been one with the forests, in which she’d sunk into the core of warm, flickering fires, and settled deep into the earth, she came back to the surface. The world had changed in the last 60 years. The buildings of her past no longer stood tall and proud, but were replaced by the new world. It made the girl a little sad that everything around her had changed, but she was excited to see how people had made their new homes.

Now, she floated around, exploring the surface world and how it seemed to change so rapidly, helping and watching over those in need, all those she could help. She worked long and hard, and the Sea God still returned to her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself. A spirit didn’t need the things a human did, but it would become painful for her if she used her abilities too much. With the Sea God by her side, and the people to watch over, the girl felt above the clouds, literally and figuratively. Her stories were passed down from generation to generation, about the girl named Miraclae, who brought forth good fortune. They called these events, “miracles'', after her. The stories changed each time they were told, some so twisted up, they made her laugh every time she heard it. Her life after death was filled with joy, and even in the moments it wasn’t, everything turned out alright.

Except when the world turned its back on her, without even noticing.

Time has a way of twisting things, like how many common phrases were cut in half to be used in the complete opposite situations they were made for. She couldn’t help everyone, and so people started questioning miracles. Were they really miracles? Or were they just a

21|The penchant||MAY 2021

stroke of luck? Every time people doubted her, it hurt. It stung in the soul that tethered her to this world, as the people around her started to believe she was never really there.

“I’m here. I’m right here.

I’m watching over you, so don’t worry. I’m.. right.. here…” She tried to say. She tried to show people she was still here, she was still helping, that they would be okay. But they

never heard her. They walked right past her, unknowingly hurting the spirit with each step they took.

“I’m right here…” she whispered, the ghosts of tears slipping down her cheeks.

Years, decades, centuries passed by, but nothing changed. If anything, the questions grew and grew, questioning her existence,

questioning if she had left them.

And yet, everyday, the girl put on another smile and went out into the world. The Sea God watched as the spark started to fade from the girl’s eyes, but they could do nothing about it, but comfort her.

Sometimes, when they sat together in front of the ocean, it would come back long enough for them to see that spark return to her eyes, only for them to dull again. One night,

she turned to the Sea God, breathing in deep, like she was building up her resolve.

“Am I being selfish if... ,”she paused, hesitating, but finally pushed it through. “Is it really that bad if I want to be noticed? If I want to be heard, to be noticed? Is it that bad to ask if I want to be believed in?”

The Sea God smiled at her sadly, wrapping their arms around her to surround her in a blanket of warm water.

“Of course not.” They looked up at the stars and hoped that the people would one day overcome their doubts and believe in the spirit that had served them for so long.

They looked down at her tired eyes.

She deserved it.

“She deserved it”

MAY 2021||The penchant|22

PROSE And here is where the chapter begins.

He jolts backward abruptly, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he closes his eyes, sighing heavily.

Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He goes back to staring up at the lines of people waiting to board the plane, the blue lines of the airline logo above the door, the counter next to the door where people’s passports are checked.

He stares for a little too long, until the person besides him comments, “It’s almost our time to board the plane.”

He turns his head sharply, seeing his friend to his right, grinning at him. He smiles back silently and goes back to staring at the lines of people.

Today is the first day of his class trip to New York City — five to six days, give or take.

His heartbeat is almost audible and his mouth is completely dry. You’d think he was presenting a class project or something of the sort, with cold, clammy, sweat-covered hands, but he isn’t.

Just nervous to be on a trip outside of his state for the first time in a long while. Just nervous.

After all, what does he have to be afraid of? The book tells him everything that’s going to happen.

He found the book one sunny afternoon, stashed in the back of his closet along with random figurines that haven’t seen the light in years and dust bunnies.

He didn’t think too much of the book at first — just asked his parents if the book was theirs. They shrugged. Said they had never seen it. Maybe it belonged to a relative and they accidentally left it at their house and it got shifted into the back of the closet.

But when he opened the book in the recluse of his own room, complete with a dust covering and the smell of an old novel, he found detailed diary-like journal entries consisting of descriptions of

23|The penchant||MAY 2021

events. He thought, Wow, whoever wrote this must have been really dedicated. They included very miniscule details that could’ve been easily overlooked.

But a strange sinking feeling found its way into his stomach when he realized the actions listed in the book seemed. . . familiar. They were things that he would have done on a daily basis. He flipped back to the beginning to carefully inspect the book.

It read, Chapter 1. And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream.

Nothing out of the ordinary. After a few minutes. . . And the list goes on and on, with a word by word description of actions the person in question was doing. Except. . .

He had done every single task described. And on the bottom of that page, the list read, He picks up and reads this book.

His eyes widened. Was this a list of all that he was doing? Was someone supervising him this entire time and watching his every move?

He instinctively stiffened up and looked around himself cautiously, but no one was in sight.

And what piqued his wonder was that when he flipped to the next page, words immediately filled in.

The list contained items that he hadn’t done that day yet. He finishes math homework and then proceeds to cry over said homework’s difficulty. His chest heaves, tears hot in his eyes. . . After a while, when he’s calmed down, he brings up his phone to browse Twitter again for half an hour, before he’s called to have dinner. . . And such.

And there was another “chapter” on the next page. Chapter 2. And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing.

After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily.

CHAPTER 3 by blue

The list contained items that he hadn’t done that day yet.

Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. . .

Furiously flipping through the pages, he quickly realized that the book didn’t seem to have an end.

The more pages he flipped by, the more he got into the future, the more pages appeared in front of him. Each one had a chapter title, each “chapter” denoting a day’s start, followed by the words And here is where the chapter begins.

Was this an action-by-action log of his days, but including his future actions too? Would that mean that if he flipped through the pages fast enough, he could see his future play out, even the far-fetched things like what college he went to, who (if anyone) he dated, his major, his eventual job?

But would the words on the paper change to adapt to reality if he changed something in his routine?

He decided to test it. He stood up, shaking his limbs for a second before taking out his phone and opening his music app. He selected the first song that popped up in his general playlist. Distortion by BABYMETAL. According to what he had seen so far, if he got up and did something different, something not written in the book, the book should change too to reflect that.

And it did, as he opened the book when the song was still playing.

Where it hadn’t been listed before, under He picks up and reads this book, the words He gets up and shakes himself, before playing music (Distortion - BABYMETAL).

He stared at the words.

Rubbing his eyes to see if it was just part of his vision. But the words didn’t go away.

Something like nervous excitement struck his heart. If this book changed to reflect whatever happened in reality. . . he could utilize this to steer clear of embarrassing events, misfortunes, and ultimately make his way to success.

And that’s where the book leads him to now — a trip to New York City. For the past few months since he found the book, it’s improved his life by a lot. All it takes is a 5-minute max reading of the book to figure out what events will happen in his day and if there’s anything he needs to change.

Whenever a day passes, the previous

day’s entry gets erased from the book, and the current day’s entry is renamed to Chapter 1, the following days’ chapter numbers accordingly adjusted. The book is like a miracle: it’s saved him from countless embarrassing situations and tight pickles. It’s too good to be true.

But that’s not the only way the book has changed his life. About two months ago, he spent a day dedicated just to flipping through the book to see what his future held. He went so far as to seeing what he did everyday more than 3 years into the future (in which 3 years might not seem like a lot of time, it did take him quite a while to flip that far in the book) and what shocked him was that there were no more entries after Chapter 1552. A quick rundown on the last entry revealed: Chapter 1552.

And here is where the chapter begins. He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing.

After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily. Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular. . . And then a detailed narration of his day, with the exception of the ending: The Viper shoots him in his apartment, bullet striking its mark in the middle of his chest. His vision slowly blurs until everything turns black and he lies in a puddle of his own blood on the ground of his living room. He has met his final end. The chapter ends here.

The Viper? Who on Earth is the Viper? A Google search did no good. Maybe the book was glitching?

(Despite the fact that books can’t glitch, but some part of him hoped there was an error within its pages.)

But over the next few days, the book still changed the entries up to date, containing information about the current day and the days to come, but the last entry didn’t change. The last words on the last page still read: The chapter ends here.

That meant one thing: about in 4 years, he would meet a person, the Viper, who would be the end of him.

For the months since he found out the way he died, fear MAY 2021||The penchant|24

Why did he decide to board the plane if he knew his killer was on the plane beside him?

encapsulated his everyday life. He couldn’t look at other people the same way. What if they were the so-called Viper that he needed to avoid? Which one of the 7 billion people occupying the Earth would be the end of him? Which— “Class D, boarding now,” comes a blaring voice over the intercom, jolting him out of his thoughts. Noticing his slightly startled expression, his friend gives him a small smile again, to which he responds with an uneasy one of his own.

When he walks up to the entryway, he does what he normally does. He hands out his passport and flight ticket and with a quick swipe, he’s good to go. What stops him in his tracks, however, are the words the flight attendant stationed at the door tells him.

25|The penchant||MAY 2021

The flight attendant pulls him back for a second and whispers in his ear, “The Viper is. . . ” followed by his friend’s name. The friend who stood next to him in line waiting to board the plane.

His eyes bulge with shock, but he has no time to absorb the information. He’s rushed along into the gateway with the feeling of fear in his veins, his mind a flurry of questions.

What did the flight attendant mean by the Viper was his friend? And what did the Viper know about the book? But most importantly, could he even trust the flight attendant’s words?

But despite whether or not his friend was actually the Viper, it wouldn’t do any harm to be on guard, right? He decides to keep his distance for a while, at least before

he lands on solid ground after the flight and gets some alone time to think.

Easier said than done, as his seat is adjacent to his friend’s. Upon sitting down, he quickly turns away for a few seconds to fumble through his bag, taking this time to think about his next moves.

“I can’t believe this trip is actually happening, for real now,” his friend beside him comments. “It doesn’t feel real. This reminds me of when. . .” They then go on to ramble on about past memories, to which he weakly responds to. He shoots them small smiles and responds with a wavering voice, which he hopes isn’t too noticeable, but given the faint strange expression his friend had on his face, it’s clear that his nervousness is showing.

As he sits back in his chair, hoping some of his nerves would relax if his body loosened, a fearful thought strikes the center in his mind.

If his friend is the Viper. . .

Did this mean there would be a possibility that his friend could kill him right here and right then? After all, the book is subject to change, and any slight change in people’s actions could change the course of his future reflected in the book. He hasn’t checked the book recently either.

Why did he decide to board the plane if he knew his killer was on the plane beside him?

His hands become clammy with cold sweat, and the small smile that his friend adorns on his face

grows, and his heart beats a heavy, heavy pulse in his chest— ---------------------------------------And here is where the chapter begins.

He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing. After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily.

Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular.

A few minutes pass before he gets out of bed to get on with the rest of his day. But before he puts on his outfit for the day, brushes his teeth, yada yada, he makes an effort to check the book.

The book tells him everything that’s going to happen. It’s a day-by-day description of tasks he’s done and will do. The book is like a miracle: it’s saved him from countless

embarrassing situations and tight pickles. It’s too good to be true.

But when he flips through its pages, he finds entries he hadn’t seen the day before. One line stops him in his tracks: The Mole Man crashes into the room, one goal in mind: to kill him.

His eyes cross the lines of the page, until the words on the page end at: The Mole Man’s knife hits its target: it slices through his chest with a pain-filled shriek from him. He collapses onto the floor. His vision slowly blurs until everything turns black and he lies in a puddle of his own blood on the ground of his living room. He has met his final end. The chapter ends here.

He hurriedly flips past that page, but he’s only met with blank pages. Is that his end? Will he die at the hands of a person called. . . the Mole Man? Who is the Mole Man?

MAY 2021||The penchant|26

And why couldn’t they have picked a better name?

Chapter 2 is the title of the last entry, which means he’s doomed to meet his end in about 2 days.

The only problem is, he quickly realizes as he mulls over his situation, that he’s not the only one who lives in his house. What about his parents and his grandparents?

This might be a good thing.

If he tells his family about what’s going to happen, couldn’t they help him fight back against whoever the Mole Man is? Or even better, just flee the house altogether before the killer arrives?

But the more he thinks about it, the worse the idea seems. Even if he tells his family, would anything change? Wouldn’t they just think he’s crazy and then go on with their day? Of course if he were to hear these words from someone else’s mouth, he would think they were crazy too.

Throughout the day, he follows his normal routine. Still nervously smiles at his parents over breakfast and lunch. Still attends class and does his work but his mind is elsewhere. He tries to shake off the feeling of apprehension that crawls up his skin but it’s to no avail.

What if it’s all inside his head? That the book is made up?

What if he ignores what the book says? After all, if he ignores the Mole Man, there’s no way they could come for him, right?

He sits there in a pool of his own foolish thoughts, in over his head with his mind pulling in different directions, frantically trying to distract himself.

Of course, of course. . . if he doesn’t acknowledge the Mole Man’s existence, it would be the same as them not existing. . . And then they wouldn’t come to kill him. . .

He stashes his worries about the Mole Man somewhere in the back of his mind where it’s numb with pain from a headache and he can’t hear them anymore. Plasters on his best smile at dinner. Laughs along to jokes. His day resumes.

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There’s no way the Mole Man can kill him now if he doesn’t speak a word of him. . . There’s no way. . . There’s no way. . .

But the sound of glass breaking is what meets him as he walks across the living room. He jumps back immediately, but it’s a little too late for him to avoid the knife that suddenly appears in the corner of his vision, closely nicking the bottom of his chin in one swift move.

He only barely escapes with a scrape, and ow, it does hurt.

In the back somewhere, his mother screams. But everything he hears quickly becomes muffled when the figure that lunged at him comes into focus, and their face slowly lifts upward until it’s visible.

A mole mask.

So it is the Mole Man. He’s going to meet his end. . . But why now of all times? Didn’t the book say he had two more days? Was this not going to happen in Chapter 2?

He doesn’t have time to think about the book when the Mole Man lunges for him again, this time with the knife directed at the center of his chest. It hits bird’s-eye, and he goes down with a howl, his abdomen pierced through.

He trips on some glass shards on his way down, landing him on his side, curled up with his hand on his chest. The pain makes it hard for him to move. It’s like someone carved up a piece of him and tore him out.

But even as his vision becomes fuzzy with pain, the thought he has when he sees the dark figure of what looks like the Mole Man staggering in the distance is Oh. He must’ve forgotten to check the book. After all, the book is subject to change, and any slight change in people’s actions could change the course of his future reflected in the book. He hasn’t checked the book recently either.

It feels like his body might explode, bursting into tiny shards, with the pain that strikes him chest-first. He tries to get up but horribly fails, the glass on the

ground cutting into his hand and earning him another pain-struck howl.

This cursed book, he thinks bitterly as his vision fades into stars, bright and aching. This cursed book.

So much for being a miracle. So much for— -------------------------------------And here is where the chapter begins.

He sits up abruptly in his bed, heartbeat spiking, coughing.

After a few seconds, his breathing goes back to normal, and he sits back in his bed, sighing heavily.

Just a bad dream. Nothing out of the particular.

A few minutes pass before he gets out of bed to get on with the rest of his day. But right as he reaches for the book to read a description of his day, two hands suddenly grip his shoulder, one on each side.

His eyes bulge. He slowly, slowly turns his head to the right side, to hopefully catch a glimpse of whoever’s behind him, slowly, slowly— The chapter ends here.

The chapter ends here.

MAY 2021||The penchant|28

PROSE

by sophie mo

❝

On the fourteenth of the second lunar moon, war general Meilian is resurrected

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❞

On the fourteenth of the second lunar moon, war general Meilian is resurrected.

It’s a startling event, really—everyone could imagine the utter surprise on the poor handmaiden’s face when she noticed that Meilian stared back at her from her bed in funeral attire (she nearly screamed, by the gods, and almost woke the entire mansion with her cry). And so the rumors start then, barely hours after Meilian wakes up on a mid-autumn afternoon and the doctors find her crawling out of bed.

She must be born and favored by the gods to be given a second chance, the servants in her household had whispered. Truly, a blessing such as her has befallen the Tianhua Empire.

Meilian finds the statements they make ironic, for she knows she is not sired by the gods, and yet rather cursed with the strength of ten-thousand oxes and hair spun with the silk of spiders. She was not given life to help the misfortune of others, just like her mother did, but instead to take it away—rip it from the throats of wounded soldiers and leave their carcasses for the birds.

Meilian was born to slay.

She did not pray to the gods because the gods were no such thing.

They were merely a myth, a legend, fabricated from the mouths of those who talked too much in the past. The gods were dead, she believed throughout her entire life, when her prayers fell onto deaf ears as her mother wasted away her last years, bedridden. Meilian defied the gods in life, and in death, the gods returned the action, shutting the doors of death in her face, forcing her back into this wretched world where nothing was ever right.

Because how dare they. How dare they laugh at her from the heavens as they rejected her from the afterlife, sending her back down to the mortal plane.

Meilian was supposed to stay dead. Her life was supposed to end when the blade met her body in the sharp screaming of metal. She wasn’t—She wasn’t supposed to be back in her bed with bandages

around her torso.

“I will end them,” she seethes in the presence of her advisor, Hongqiu. “I will spite the gods until they have no reason to let me stay here.”

Hongqiu, who’s never heard such a thing come out from Meilian’s mouth, is flabbergasted.

“Are you alright, miss? You seem quite out of it.”

“I am perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Meilian pours herself a cup of tea, only for the boiling liquid to spill out of the pot and onto the table in a mess. She frowns. “Has the emperor said anything about the Lialothra forces on our borders?”

“There you go again, talking about news of war the first thing when you wake up,” Hongqiu says dryly, handing her a stack of papers.

“You need to go easy on yourself, especially when you’ve just been revived from the dead.”

The gods have let me live for another day, and I will make that everyone else’s problem but mine Meilian wrinkles her nose, taking the papers in one hand and leafing through the reports. “The gods have let me live for another day, and I will make that everyone else’s problem but mine.”

“You have too much energy for someone who’s just died.”

“Please, Hongqiu, leave the resurrection and death miracle behind. It’s old news. I’m more particularly interested in the advancement of Lialothra squadrons in the outskirts of the northern mountains—Come to think of it,

how long did you say I was out for again?”

“Barely two weeks.”

“The emperor hasn’t approved a new war general yet, I take it?”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

Meilian smiles with all teeth and malice. “Good. I would hate it if my position had been overtaken by some measly corrupted official. So, five weeks, right? Our enemies have advanced just a hundred meters from the capital. In two weeks.”

Hongqiu looks somewhat disturbed, fumbling with the hem of her outfit. “The emperor… He has made several grave errors when calculating the advancement of Lialothra forces when you were—uh—sleeping.”

Meilian throws the papers onto the wood before her, scoffing at the idiocy of whatever title this “emperor” had bestowed upon himself. He isn’t even fit to rule a district, let alone a whole empire.

Meilian’s been through many of his official meetings before; yes, the emperor was intelligent, far beyond those empty-headed advisors of his, but the way he flaunted that knowledge of his led to grave mistakes. Mistakes which Meilian will take advantage of.

Ah, yes. She lets out an unconscious grin, because if the gods sent her back to this world, then there was something she had definitely left behind that couldn’t go unresolved in death.

“Hongqiu,” Meilian calls from her seat. As Hongqiu turns around from the shelves of documents, tilting her head in question. she requests, “If you would, please bring me a quill and some paper.”

“What for?”

Meilian steeples her fingers together and presses them against her lips as a plan formulates at the edges of her mind.

“I have a proposal to make.”

— Emperor Faddei of the Lialothra Empire, it seems, is a bold man.

MAY 2021||The penchant|30

He responds to Meilian’s letter within a week, having a hawk carry it back to Tianhua’s war general. The emperor writes his response in elegant calligraphy, his signature scrawled at the bottom of the letter with black ink that bleeds into the heavy parchment.

“To think that the Emperor would actually respond.” Hongqiu says curtly while brushing Meilian’s hair, trying to read off the paper in her hands.

“Of course he would respond. It’s only proper manners that you respond to the First General of Tianhua especially during wartime.” Meilian smiles to herself, folding the letter in half. “My proposal was accepted, though.

Maps to our trade routes and access to our docks in exchange for oversea supplies—”Hongqiu’s fingers stop threading through Meilian’s hair as she lets out an audible gasp. “You can’t be serious. Such an offer—How will you authorize it?”

“—You haven’t let me finish yet, my dear advisor,” Meilian passes the letter to Hongqiu, who accepts it.

Her nails skim across the edges and corners, opening it up to view the contents within. “As I was saying, maps to our trade routes and access to our docks for both oversea supplies and a whole armada in a week’s time.”

“Meilian, what are you—” “I will be able to secure the promise, Hongqiu. Please do not fret over such a trivial matter.” Meilian turns to look her advisor in the eyes, watching as Hongqiu’s eyes widen to the shape of saucers when she reaches the end of the letter. “We have two week’s time to prepare. My men are loyal to me, and as such I am not concerned with how much manpower I can wield. What I do need, though, is your willingness to compromise. You are a woman of peace and prosperity, and I am well aware that you dislike war. The Tianhua Emperor has taken with him your village and your family, wherein you still hold a grudge against him for doing so.”

Her advisor is silent, but her eyes flicker to meet Meilian’s,

31|The penchant||MAY 2021

This will be a game of chess, and I will treat it as such something along the lines of unease buried within. Hongqiu opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again before heaving out a sigh. “I will go with you wherever, Meilian. I will aid you with my very best in this endeavor of yours.”

And so, Meilian picks up her quill again, dipping it in the blackest of ink, and writes down her final response to Emperor Faddei a week before she is to wage war. The following days after she sends the letter to the monarch of Lialothra is filled with planning in the dead of night by the light of a single candle, instructing Meilian’s fleet to follow her plans and her backup ones as well when the time comes (and, as predicted, they are well aware of where their loyalties lie). Even when the Emperor himself calls forth Meilian for advice about the receding Lialothrian forces along their borders, she does not give him the pleasure of looking past her mask nor her real intentions when she advises him to pull back their own forces for now. Meilian does not betray anything, and in return, the last night of the second week falls upon her shoulders peacefully.

“Are you sure you can dethrone the Emperor with such a small army?” Hongqiu whispers into Meilian’s ear as she throws her armor over her head.

“I’ve told you before,” Meilian says with a hint of amusement, knowing that Hongqiu will catch onto her words after she completes her statement, “that I don’t plan on using brute force to knock the king off the chessboard.

This will be a game of chess, and I will treat it as such.”

Sure enough, Hongqiu goes rigid, blinking rapidly, and Meilian nearly laughs at how long it took her advisor to realize her real plan. It is true that her method is informal,

that it isn’t the traditional way of challenging the current Emperor for the throne, but what else is she supposed to do? Yes, her family hails from a respectful lineage, and using violence to conquer the head of the kingdom will surely tarnish their reputation—so that idea is brushed to the side.

“Either way, it’s time to depart.

I will gather my army. Emperor

Faddei’s forces should be arriving in a couple of hours.” Meilian swings a leg over her horse who stomps its hooves on the rain-drenched cobblestone roads.

Hongqiu follows close behind with Meilian’s legion of warriors, and they make their way to the palace hidden behind the guise of a magnificent waterfall painted with the reflection of stars against the dark backdrop of night.

There is no time to be nervous, for when Meilian arrives at the palace, the Emperor is already out before the sun rises from the mountains, his guards trailing after his every move.

“I see you have caught word of my challenge?” Meilian speaks first, holding her head high with dignity. She knows the Emperor is not one to be cowardly and back down from such an offer, especially with his title on the line.

The war general beckons Hongqiu forward, instructing her to place the chessboard in the middle of the bridge parting the two parties.

“Will you accept my request? If you decline, I will clean the bridge with your blood and seize the throne with violence, but seeing as so with our enemies right outside our city, I’d think you wouldn’t want that to happen, yes?

Wouldn’t you agree that a simple game of chess settles things faster?”

The Emperor, for all he’s worth, looks nerved, hands fidgeting, fingers twitching at his side. Meilian knows he would not be able to charge straight into battle; he is too faint of

Who outnumbers who now? of heart for the sight of brutality, so he instead has his generals do the dirty work for him.

“Your audacity astounds me, First War General.” The Emperor kneels in front of the chess table, hands placed on his lap. Meilian lets out a hum as she reciprocates the action, gesturing with a flick of her wrist for the Emperor to start his move first.

The match starts in a flourish, the Emperor seeming to choose his moves carefully, hesitantly. A wobbly smile spreads across his face when he manages to take Meilian’s knight, but that’s the only piece she ever lets him take.

The Emperor slips then, when Meilian pushes back against his chess pieces in retaliation for her knight. He becomes panicked, perspiration gathering on his forehead as Meilian remains stoic, expression stilled into a poker face.

The Emperor becomes desperate when Meilian takes his queen, and he moves back to protect the king—it's the first mistake he makes.

He leaves open spaces he does not see in the heat of the match, and Meilian uses it to her advantage, knocking down another one of his bishops.

The second and last mistake he makes is grievous, leaving his king wide open. Meilian’s lips twist into a sinister grin when she takes his king, leaving the rest of his pieces devoid of a monarch. “Checkmate.”

Meilian brushes her hands off on her armor, standing up. “You lose.”

The Emperor’s hands hover over his pieces, eyes wide and disbelief in his voice when he tries to stammer something in denial.

“H-How—? This— This isn’t fair—” “Nothing is fair in war, your Highness.” Meilian waves a hand at her army, which surges forward upon her command. “Take him away.”

The Emperor visibly shakes with rage, his face turning redder by the second. “You don’t have the authority,” he spits. “My forces outnumber that of yours.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” And on cue, as Meilian had planned from the beginning, Emperor Faddei’s armada charges from the city roads

below, flooding the front of the bridge and placing themselves behind the war general. “I beg your pardon? Who outnumbers who now?”

The Emperor, he—well—he has nothing more to say other than incoherent words that he isn’t able to put together to turn into a proper sentence. His mouth hangs open, and he’s too surprised to argue or fight against Faddei’s soldiers when they take him away from the bridge.

There’s only silence after—a tranquility that is only disrupted by the rushing of the waterfall and the early birds that sing their little tunes in the trees high above. Meilian smiles in satisfaction as she makes her way into the palace, beginning to feel the weight of the crown that would be placed on her head soon enough.

And as the night lifts from the mountains’ shoulders, the dawn rises with a new sovereign of the Tianhua Empire.

And as the night lifts from the mountains’ shoulders, the dawn rises with a new sovereign of the Tianhua Empire.

MAY 2021||The penchant|32

PROSE If anyone was tasked with writing an autobiography for every human being on Earth, they would forget Nicholas Morello before the ink on the story of his life had even dried.

He was a lanky fifteen year old, born only a few years before the twenty first century, and named by his parents after a childhood friend. And while he did grow from a chubby baby to a tall teenager, he did not grow into greatness as his parents had hoped.

Despite having played a variety of sports in his life, he had never accomplished anything of note. He sat smack dab in the middle of most of his classes, and to date no teacher had ever remembered his name for either notorious or excellent deeds. As any high schooler would, he had started a club, though not even his mother or father could name it. And despite this lifetime of obscurity, and in some cases mediocrity, Nicholas Morello knew that anything he wanted in life would be granted to him, for he had been blessed with miracles.

At this point, it is a reasonable assumption to make that fairies or wizards or some other sort of nonsense is going to fill these next few pages. Nicholas himself had believed as much in his youth, and would have continued believing so if he had not been in the right place at the right time, and heard a conversation he was never meant to hear. The story began on a cold winter day when Nick (as he will be referred to, because Nicholas is a whopping eight letters) was nine years old, and accidentally stumbled onto a figurative gold mine.

When most high schoolers reminisce about elementary school, they remember a paradise free of stress and the happiest time of their life. When most elementary schoolers think about their experience, they feel that they are already in the thick of the rat race. Nick was no exception to this experience, and had tragically found himself at the extreme bottom of his school’s social hierarchy with a few select friends. While he could handle bullying, one day he was the victim of a particularly harsh joke about his mother. This slam was so brutal, and uttered so publically, it almost drove the poor boy to tears.

33|The penchant||MAY 2021

for he had been blessed with miracles He had run home and locked himself in his room, despite his parents and others repeatedly trying to coax him out. And right before he went to sleep, he decided to write a letter and put it underneath his pillow case. If there was a tooth fairy to collect teeth from under one’s bed when they fell out, surely other fairies would check his note as well.

He had explained what happened, and added frowny faces where he believed they were appropriate. And with all the subtlety of a ten year old, he had asked for Edward Summers to receive a due punishment for his unkind words. He slept peacefully that night, not knowing he had set events in motion that would be critical to the rest of his life.

In less than a week, both of Edward’s parents lost their jobs, and his family was forced to move to an area with a lower cost of living.

When he had heard the news, Nick had initially been elated, then confused. He had not expected his wish to come to fruition this quickly or effectively. Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, he wrote a similar note that day about how a large amount of his candy had gone missing, although the culprit was his stomach. When he awoke the next morning, he saw the note had been looked at, but no mountain of candy appeared for another month. He had tried again and again, with different

IT’S A

MIRACLE!

problems and asking for varying levels of justice. Soon, a common pattern emerged; the fairies only fulfilled his wishes when Nick was hurt or threatened. While this initially made him suspect his parents, it was highly unlikely that they would be able to do half the things required.

Or so he believed, until he accidentally ended up listening in on one of their conversations. The reason he was even below his bed that day was because he got stuck trying to find an action figure, and did not have the will

to get out. Before he could muster up that dedication, he heard footsteps coming into his room. His mother walked in and lifted his pillow, to read his note, he realized.

“Anything important? Or just some missing candy?” his father asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know, Frank. That poor boy whose parents lost his job is

by aarya morgaonkar

suffering right now, and I don’t want a repeat. Nick has to learn to fight his own battles.”

Even though he was under the bed with no visibility, Nick could see his father’s eyebrows rise at his mother’s statement. Even Nick was tempted to jump out and ask what was happening, but caution won out.

“What is it?”

“Nick wrote about his English teacher that he thinks is trying to fail him. The bald one.”

“It’s a teacher. They’re trying to fail everyone, not just him,” Dad snorted, and turned back. Mother soon followed, leaving a very confused Nick to bang his head on the bottom of his bed frame.

It didn’t take him long to piece together the long work trips and considerable luxury he lived in along with the fact that his parents were trying to make his wishes come through. Nick, for his part, never tried to interfere in anything he believed was not his business. He may have been exceptionally dull, but it also meant he was willing to remain ignorant for the system that was clearly benefiting him. Of course, as he grew older, Nick had to keep adapting to his age and making sure his parents knew what he wanted.

In middle school, he transitioned to keeping a diary filled with personal problems. In high school, he had frequent calls with a “therapist,” and these calls were loud enough for anybody in his house to hear them. At times, he had doubts about the questionable actions that would help him. He knew that people had gotten unfairly fired, but to the extent of his knowledge no person had ever died.

Of course, the longer he thought about it, the more clear it became to him that he did not want the answer to that question at all. He had no particular skills or hobbies or talents, and if not for his parents, he would have nothing in life. So when he opened a letter from MIT, congratulating him for being accepted, his mother shouted “It’s a miracle!”

He had only grinned and nodded as she left the room, only to put a final note under his pillowcase.

MAY 2021||The penchant|34