Plume | Summer 2019 by Plume

Plume Plume

Plume As a school, we dedicate ourselves to education and culture. We’re doing the same thing people did in centuries past, albeit with different methods. Our goal is to further ourselves and others through the pursuit of knowledge. With that in mind, the name Plume embodies our purpose in full. Before we used pencils and computers, we used quill pens: plumes plucked from the flight feathers of large birds. The plume is a fundamental symbol of our school. It represents both the education we strive to achieve and the mascot that brings us together — we are the Hawks. The feathers of a hawk become the words on a page. The calligraphy of a plume is unmatched in precision and flexibility: so too we strive to embody these traits in our school. Works such as the Magna Carta and Declaration of Independence were created by way of the plume; by following suit with our literary magazine, we’ll be walking in the steps of our ancestors. The plume brings expression. It brings freedom. It brings possibility. It brings us together with the words it forms; its influence sits in the pages we read. - Cairo Gaona

Find a digital copy of this issue of Plume online at issuu.com/plumecpp

Policy Plume is the product of students at Corning-Painted Post High School who devoted their time and effort to create a collaborative work of art. We take pride in providing an open forum in which young writers and artists may express themselves and spread their wings. The submissions in Plume are selected by a committee of student editors who select individual pieces based on style and quality of writing. This committee reserves the right to deny the publication of any submissions if deemed inappropriate. Furthermore, the ideas presented in the publication do not represent the views of the CPPHS faculty or staff, nor the C-PP Area School District. We hope you enjoy our work.

Editors-in-Chief: Natalie Kent Rayna Krise Olivia Losito

Designers:

Adam Bibalo Luke Johnson

Editors:

Lauren Hill Rebakah Knarr Natasha Matusick Lucas Hall

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5-6 7 8 9 10 14-15 16 17 18-22 23 24 25 26-27 28 26-31 32 33 34 35

The Inconspicuos Night Proto Fading Love Foxgloves Okay Natasha Matusick How Are You? Melanie Jackson When Darkness Sat Down Next toMe Melanie Jackson pearl Melanie Jackson Dreams That’ll Never Take Flight Sydney Crouch The Process of Falling in Love Melanie Jackson Three Chairs Anonymous Note from Our Staff Plume Monsters Adam Bibalo The Fragrant Harbor Julienne Tsang Virtual Boyfriend Foxgloves The Magician and The Dancer Proto Bright Natalie Kent Young Dreams Lucas Hall What Ever Happened to David? Proto The Fairies Megan Slater The Little Girl’s Revenge Lucas Hall Colors Natalie Kent Same Natasha Matusick Chicago’s Valentine Sydney Crouch Foxgloves Blues Clues Haikus

The Inconspicuous Night Proto T

was an inconspicuous dark night, one that people go through never stopping to assess the creeping shade. The tenth hour was approaching as the carriage drove down the beaten path, one which was overgrown with ivy and other plants, native to the region. The moon was barely visible behind the clouds, but small beams snuck from behind the wisps to illuminate small patches of grass. In the brush, small bricks and other cement substances stood silent. Years ago, a thriving town stood here. Now all that was left were the bases, moss and other plants growing on the foundations of what used to be. A turn was taken. The carriage shuttered and shook as it made its way. It was old. Up ahead lied a castle, one of which was darker than the darkest shade of black. It stood out in the night, the big structure forcing its presence onto all who approach it. The carriage move onto a destroyed brick path, one which once bustled with activity. The houses were less overgrown here. They stood half hearted and decaying. The tudor houses, color of tan and brown, blended into the night, each window dark and barron. The path continued to the castle. The street became more and more stable and flat. The carriage passed to the edge of the town. It approached a long stone bridge, one that transferred through the times, and never left. The carriage drove over the bridge, which laid on top of a chasm. This chasm was known as the life chasm, a place where people came to preserve or end life. People climbed to the edge of the bridge, confessing their sins and looking to the heavens to decide their fate. Nooses hung from the sides of the bridge on both sides remaining from the rule of a previous prince. That prince hung all who opposed him. His kingdom now lay in the dark, his selfish actions leading to his demise. The carriage left the bridge and passed under an arch that had two large gargoyles on either side facing towards the castle. Their eyes glowed red and illuminated the surface of the stone. The carriage continued towards the castle. As it got closer, each stone became more defined. The carriage passed through the first hold. A cold breeze blew through the chamber. No guards came to meet the carriage. The carriage passed through the second hold. No guards came to meet the carriage. The carriage arrived to the front of the castle, its height towering over the small carriage. Two wooden doors stood in the front, two torches lit on each side. The doors opened, showing a portal of darkness.

and now, a sonnet by Foxgloves

Fading

A secret cove lies deep within the wood, Far beyond the trench and the trees of thorn. It was kept well, as any secret should. And it was here, that her first love was born. She would come to see him here every day, He too would wait, under the willow tree. She adored his voice, everything heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d say. It was true, she loved him, couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t he see?

Love

But even through their talks of love and care, He would drift farther, the closer she got. As he was a ghost, a part of her despair. Woods around her faded as she was taught, It was his heart she strived to achieve, But her fantasy was all make-believe.

“Okay” by Melanie Jackson

Is a one word dismissal That feels like an essay a thousand pages long “Okay” Is a poison dripping with disinterest

You kill the receiver just a little bit “Okay”

When I dared to share with you

Should not be said so often that

Something I thought might make you smile

I know what you’re about to say

“Okay” Is like trying to talk to a wall While watching the paint on it dry “Okay” Takes two seconds to write Yet I waited days For that dreaded word To grace my notifications “Okay” Should be used sparingly As if each time you send it

Like I saw it in a crystal ball “Okay” Is not looking up from your phone When I tell you about my day “Okay” Is not the proper response To “I love you”

Than “Okay” At least the last thing you said to me Before we parted ways Showed that you cared At least a little bit “I hate you” Stung less

They say that the opposite of love isn’t hatred It’s indifference And I can’t think of a response More indifferent to pouring out My heart into your hands

Than the thousands of times Over our countless conversations You responded “Okay” Okay?

How are you?

:(: :(:

Natasha Matusick

Such a simple question, asked by millions of people to millions of people. The standard response: good. Maybe even a ‘thank you’ or a ‘and you?’, on a good day. What I want to know is why, when asked how I am, I have to stop and think. Why I have to assess myself, why I can’t automatically say ‘good’ or ‘ok’. Because of this, when I finally have an answer, they’ve already continued on. In France, when you ask this question to some bypasser, it’s because you actually want to know. If you ask and continue walking, it’s considered disrespectful. So why, here in America, do we ask and not care? If we’re not going to wait for a response, what is the point of asking? I read somewhere about someone who instead of asking ‘how are you’ they ask, “How is your soul today?”. The people he asked had to stop and think about it. He didn’t walk off afterward, he waited for response. The answers he got were different too. More descriptive, sometimes even full sentences. It’s silly how a simple rephrasing of a sentence can impact so much.

:(: :(:

Maybe instead of asking ‘how are you’ while you’re walking, stop and ask the bypasser. You might be surprised at what happens, and you’ll make those millions of people’s day just a bit brighter.

:(:

So, I ask you: How are you really doing today?

:(: 4

Melanie jackson

When

Darkness Sat Down Next to

Me 5

Lights flicker

we look at the flickering lights

in the distance

far far below

he tells me

I’m here looking down on it all wrapped in a blanket a book lies next to me pages flipping themselves in the cool summer breeze inside are the sounds of life outside are the sounds of the questioning the air is filled with random notes fluttering around me like guardian angels

you’d do fine down there if you wanted to be a light surrounded by light but then he shifts his gaze the moonlight dancing through his being but you’d do great up there be a light where no one has dared to be and with that he left

I know why they’re here darkness sat down next to me to keep me company

There is a dream I hold so close A broken seam In

pearl melanie jackson A dew drop in the morning and pearls in her eyes, at the same time, glistened smooth as pearly white shadows emerged, over-shadowing everything. A faint half smile crossed the sunâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ever - young face as an arc of magenta shades enveloped her very essence; the tears that followed, soon washed away every doubt that she had harboured in her stoned, marble heart.

Dreams That’ll Never Take Flight Sydney Crouch Rainy days and back pocket change, Slamming doors with the sound of ‘you can’t do that’. Your dreams are too big, Your life is too small, In their heads you’re nothing at all. Blurred lines of past and present, Futures still to see, Days grow long while years fly by. The dreamer will dream a day here to come, And the stars they shoot for will only reach some. An open guitar case on pale city streets, A shiny façade with squeaky leather boots, With differences of little still set aside all the same. The artist will try to sell, as hard as they might, The poet speaking with a word that’ll never take flight. Differences between the two, quite noticable you see, One a fierce tiger pouncing on the weak, for the thrill of a hunt, The other a kind bird singing their song that has much to say. But the gap is slimming, for something the the poet has realized, You can’t make it to the top without being disguised. An inbetween of most truth, but this time with more force, One that will try to rise again, this time with a greater flame. All hopes and wishes, words with real meaning, Doubts and desires, fading along the way, With regard for distraction, dishonesty, or something they might say. The poet losing passion, replaced with the artist’s drive, Money is the motive so why try and hide? The song bird is silent, falling prey to the rest, And truth coming short so why stop there? For the tiger is coming, all small shall beware.

The Process of Falling in Love

Melanie Jackson

A a

l l so sudden it left me dizzy and in

bliss

a landing sudden it left me broken in p i e cÂ e s

Three Chairs three chairs at a table two people are there sitting. the one chair is wobbly

-A n on y m o u s

and moving; me and him know that. the chair doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t break, but comes under pressure. the empty chair has a ghost that weighs five hundred pounds; the chair does not break. the wobbly chair is mine. his chair is strong despite thinking it to be weak; it is more stable than my chair.

Trapped “Yeah, I’ll be there in about two hours.” Brie says through the phone. “Okay. See you then.” Seth says in response. “Wait! You remembered to get new batteries right?” “Yes. I remembered the batteries.” Brie Assured Seth. “I couldn’t possibly forget them when that’s the only way I can see in your hallway.” “Okay okay. I just called the electrician yesterday about putting in new lights that work better.” he said with a slight impatience. “I’m gonna go get ready now and make some snacks for when you get here.” “Okay. See you later. I love you.” “I love you too.” he brought my phone down from his ear to hang up and noticed that the call had already ended. Strange, he thought, she usually waits for me to hang up. She must’ve just been in a rush. He shrugs it off and goes to get ready for tonight. Brie is coming over to watch a movie with Seth and spend the night. This is the first time she has agreed to come spend the night at his place. “It’s just creepy. All the floorboards creek and the hallway lights barely work enough to see at night.” was her usual excuse. “You just have to be around for a while to know the difference between creeks from footsteps and creeks from the house being old and shitty. And that’s why I just sleep with a flashlight on my nightstand.” he would tell her in reassurance. “Okay but that doesn’t help the situation with the stilts.” was her typical response. Seth’s house was built on top of fifteen foot high wooden

stilts because his neighborhood was always being flooded and it kept his house safe. “I always feel like someone is hanging out underneath us. It also doesn’t help that your closest neighbor is three houses down because no one wants the other houses without stilts. You feel so isolated.” When Seth reaches his room he tosses his phone on the bed and grabs some fresh clothes before heading to take a shower. He stood outside the shower waiting for the water to heat up for what must’ve been fifteen minutes, but it wouldn’t go so he was forced to take a cold shower. “Well at least I’m wide awake now.” he murmured to himself as he twists the towel around in his hair. “I guess I have to fix the water heater too now.” He went back into his room and grabbed his phone to text Brie. “If you want a shower tonight make sure you take one before you come over cause my heater isn’t working.” He pressed send, turned his phone off and tossed it back on the bed. He then continued to get himself ready to see Brie; brushing his teeth, combing his hair, picking out comfortable clothes that make him look just a little thinner, and getting a large glass of water to drink while he made food for later. After finishing getting himself ready he headed to the fridge to get some food to prepare. He got out the strawberries and blueberries to cut up and wash off. We’ll need something salty. he said to himself internally. He grabbed the saltines and pretzels from the cupboard and filled up a large plate with them. Now we just need something to drink. He returned the rest of the berries to the fridge and grabbed four bottles of soda, two

Matt Savoy for him and two for Brie. He looked out the kitchen window and noticed that the sun had gone down while he was showering and it was now starting to get very dark. He brought the food and drinks into the living room and placed it all on the table in front of the couch. He had left the cutting board, the knife, the pretzel bag and cracker box out in the kitchen, Brie would be annoyed if she saw, he thought to himself. She always hated when he left a mess. But she shouldn’t have any reason to go in there tonight so it should be fine. He grabbed the dvd case and placed it on the table next to the food so they could decide what to watch when she showed up. Lastly, he made sure to turn the porch light outside on so Brie could see when she got there. He sat on the couch and reached his hand into his pocket for his phone. When he felt it wasn’t there he remembered that he had left it upstairs on his bed so he got up to go get it. He made his way up to his room, but on the way up the stairs he stopped to turn around. He had felt the sensation of someone staring at him, but there was no one there. He assured himself it was nothing and went to grab his phone. Picking up his phone Seth noticed that his message had still not sent to Brie. What? Why hasn’t it sent yet? He checked the signal to see that there was no signal at all. He couldn’t make any texts or calls until it turned back on. Well, hopefully she took a shower already anyway, she usually does. he

thought. Just then he heard a mild crashing sound from downstairs, like the sound of a metallic cup being dropped, and he jerked his head up, frozen and silently listening. He heard a few creaking floorboards followed by another crash, then more creak, and finally a third crash. He remained frozen in place, listening for another minute for any indication for what the sounds had been and where the source was now, but nothing, total silence. He looked around for something to defend himself with if there was an intruder. He grabbed a small wooden trinket Brie had bought for him on their vacation to New Mexico last year. Tentatively he made his way downstairs, holding up the trinket like a baseball bat, checking every corner and doorway down the hallway as he headed to the stairs. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he looked all around the area to look for hints of what had happened. Then he noticed that the handle to his front door had been broken off, that must’ve been the crashing sound. He assumed the other crashes must’ve been the other exterior doors’ handles being broken off, which means he wouldn’t be able to get outside without jumping out of a window. He knew he didn’t want to do that however unless he absolutely had to, the lowest jump he could make would have to be at least twenty feet down onto a solid concrete pad. He continued making his way around the first floor, slowly, carefully searching. When

he couldn’t find anything he rushed back to the front door to see if he could find anyone outside. When he looked through the window he was horrified at what he found. Brie was lying there at the bottom of his steps, face down in a puddle of blood. The steps were covered in blood and a bloody pipe laid on the ground next to her lifeless body. Seth backed away from the window with his eyes still locked on the gruesome image in front of him. “Holy shit.” he whispered to himself. “What is happening?” As he tried to process his shock and horror he suddenly remembered the knife he had left on the kitchen counter. I have to get that for self defense. he thought. He sprinted into the kitchen looking for the knife but was struck with a new wave of terror upon realizing the knife was gone. Whoever was in his house had the knife and he had nothing to defend himself from it. He decided to make his way back up to his room and try to barricade himself in there. When he reached the top of the stairs he froze. At the other end of the hallway stood a fiendish sight. It stood as still as a boulder, and wore black all over. It’s head was not covered, however, and Seth could see stringy hair dangling down into and over its face. Extending his stare he noticed that its hair was drenched in blood; he could see crimson shades flickering from the strands of hair from the faint light that reached it at the end of the hallway. Seth stared at it, knowing it was staring right back. He knew by its shape and the way its chest raised ever so slightly up and down with each breath that it was human, but the shaded light it stood in and the immense fear he was feeling caused his mind to race with

thoughts of all the evil creatures he had ever heard about. Finally he broke from his paralyzation and made a violent sprint for his bedroom door. Seeing his movement the figure at the end of the hall followed his lead and sprinted in to try and grab Seth before he reached the room. Barely outrunning the fiend Seth slammed the door behind him, crushing two of its fingers, which stuck through the door frame. Seth stayed there leaning all his weight on the now locked door to keep it out. Then, he heard a noise which both terrified and repulsed him. It was using the knife the cut off its mangled fingers so it could leave the doorside. He was mortified to hear that all the sound it made was a few grunts, and after its fingers had been amputated Seth could hear the sound of blood flowing out and dripping onto the floor, then he saw a small amount of blood seep under the door. Who is this? What is this? he thought. This was followed by the creaks of the floor as it made its way down the hall and back downstairs. After a few moments of silence after hearing the distinct creaks of it heading downstairs Seth ran to grab his dresser and pull it in front of the door. He followed this by the bed and any other furniture in his room. After sealing the door he looked around to see if there was anything he could do to help himself. He decided to open the window and hide himself in the closet with the door closed. Maybe if it manages to get in here it’ll think I jumped out the window. He sealed himself up then, in his closet. He could see through the slits in the closet door and watched tentatively, waiting to see if anything happened. Suddenly everything went black. The power had been cut and the lights went out. Now he was stuck, trapped in darkness. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he could see

more and more details from the moonlight. For hours he sat there, he heard nothing, saw nothing, and the only light was the faint moonlight coming in through his window. The window. It enticed him, he grew closer and closer with it. With every passing minute he grew warmer to the idea of jumping. It’s my only way out. Finally, with midnight having passed and brought a new day, Seth made his way out of the closet. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t wait for morning and I can’t wait for the phone signal to come back on. He grabbed the flashlight from his dresser, pulled himself through the window and sat himself on the sill. He stared down at the concrete floor nearly 40 feet below him. He knew he would never survive unharmed but he couldn’t stand being stuck inside any longer. With one final decision he slid himself over the edge. He fell furiously, gaining speed every last second until finally he came smashing down onto the ground. Both of his legs instantly shattered and he fell to the ground, screaming out in pain. He knew he still had to keep going because he wouldn’t be safe where he was. He tried to turn on his flashlight to look around and see what was around him. It wouldn’t turn on, the batteries were dead. “Shit. I have to go get the batteries from Brie.” he told himself. He began dragging himself out towards the road hoping someone would drive by and be able to help. To his disdain, a figure came walking out of the shadows underneath his home. He could barely see it in the darkness but he knew it was the same creature he had seen in the hallway earlier, its mangled hand now wrapped in a cloth to stop the bleeding. It made it’s way over to Seth who began pleading: “Please. Please don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done. I swear” He winced in pain and pulled himself up to a sitting position leaning against one of the posts which held up his home. “Please. Please.” It, seeming to not even hear his pleas,

walked slowly over behind him and wrapped his arm around his neck, locking it there with his other hand. As Seth sat, suffocating, he caught sight of Brie’s lifeless body again. “I’m sorry.” he sputtered out with the little air he had left. “I’m so sorry.” He reached out toward her before finally, with the last bit of air seeping from his lungs, blood pouring out from his broken legs, he dies in agony.

Best of Plume 2019 The rest of this edition will showcase our favorites from this year! Hand picked by the Plume staff, we feel that these designs and writing are some of the best we have to offer. We hope you have enjoyed our literary magazine this year. Remember to submit next year, and if you want to join Plume and help us create this magazine, talk to Ms. French, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d love to have you! Thank you for all the submissions, and we hope you have a great summer.

-Plume Staff

From the Executives Olivia Losito (Exec. Editor) Being the Editor-in-Chief for Plume has been such a joy to me this past year. I’ve had so much fun helping to make this literary magazine everything it is today, and I know it wouldn’t be what it is if we didn’t have such a wonderful staff to work with and a wonderful mentor, Ms. French, to help guide us. I will miss it dearly. Being part of this tiny and powerful organization for its two inaugural years has been one of my most memorable high school experiences, and I plan on continuing working with literary magazines because of it. This was so much fun! Thank you, everyone, for your continued support! I know that the magazine is in good, talented, and caring hands as I leave for college. Don’t forget, enjoy writing and “Submit to Plume!” I can’t wait to see where this lit-mag will go!

Natalie Kent (Exec. Designer)

As the year comes to a close, Plume has been a great experience for both me and I hope for the people involved, those who submitted to plume or was on our team, or even those who read our seasonal issues. I hope that the team carries on to make Plume even better as it was this year, and same goes to the years after that.

Rayna Krise (Exec. Designer)

Working on Plume has been an incredible journey these past two years. Continuing forward next year, I’m so excited to see where it goes. Thank you to everyone in our staff this year for working so hard, and thank you to our authors, artists, and readers.

Monsters

Adam Bibalo

When we are kids, we are scared of monsterfill us dread. The monsters in our closets and under our beds. We try stay away from them,that is our goal, because we areIt scared thatlike they will eatthe us,swallow whole. The car would not start. had been forsakenusroad. It must have been midgiving off an eerie vibe. David walked up the When we get older arewas still no scared ofnight monsters, but nothe of saw the same kind. this for around ten minutes and we there by the time a light. It was a faint front steps and with a lunge, pounded three We realize otheraround, monsters of our minds. solution in sight. David the looked notare just figments white light in the distance, a shining beacon times on the door. The door stood silent, as the Now wecar arehad afraid of thetomonsters heads. sure what to do. His started stall, insideofour hope. David reached into his pack and house did. After a few moments, David heard ones thatittell us Nothing were not good enough, that better bottle. off dead. and when he The pulled over, died. pulled outwere his water It was near empty the distinct sound of the door unlocking, and The ones can on nothis hide from. Theand ones that downed consumethe ourlast lives. would start. David felt that rainwe drops David of it. He continit creaked open. David pushed it open and the last thing With he their dark presence andued words like knives. neck. This was needed. He walking, noticing how the road turned walked inside, closing the door behind him. could be done. He Inlooked the end, we findtoout thereand is no escape from their spell. realized nothing gravel dirt. It seemed as if the trees He looked around the foyer of the house. It mindsinliving hell.grasping to carry up and down the foggy street. Not a light in They make hadour reached towards, was dark, but not so dark that nothing could sight. David slammed the hood and grabbed him into their leaves. David could no longer be seen. He could make out the stairs, a his keys. He opened the trunk and grabbed see anything but the light. He approached it doorway to another room, and long hallway his backpack out of the darkness. He looked with caution, this whole ordeal seeming out with many picture frames that covered the inside and saw his book, some earbuds, a of a horror movie. He took the last few steps wall all the way to the top. Out of nowhere, sweatshirt, a water bottle, and a phone chartowards the light and saw it floating there an orange light illuminated the room at the ger. He frowned, knowing that his phone on the road. Suddenly, it went out, leaving end of the hallway. David jumped a little, but had died during the trip. He dropped his the dark to come flowing back over David. started to walk to the light. He glanced at phone in the bag, on top of the sweatshirt. He shivered as he turned and saw it there: a the pictures on the wall. Each picture had a He pulled the backpack around and slid the large house, with a single light on in a room different person on it, some of families, some straps onto his arms. He then locked the car on the second floor. of couples, but not one the same. Overlooking and with a beep, he knew it was time to start David walked toward the house, growing this, he continued to walk to the room, where walking. colder every minute. He carefully took each he found a roaring fire, a big chair, and a table David walked for a long time. He didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t step as he approached the mass of wood. in between the fire and chair. There was a note know how long, as it was dark and he could He noticed that in front of the house was a on the table. It read: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Welcome traveler! Please only faintly see the white road line through graveyard, as there were crosses poking out be at home in this house. Feel free to spend the mist. He continued to follow it through of the ground at every available inch of the the night and use our resources to aid in your the night. David thought it was weird that lawn. Even in the trees crosses were hanging journey!â&#x20AC;? David looked around, noticing more he did not see any road signs. He reached down, looking very old and abandoned by than few porcelain dolls scattered among the into his shirt and pulled out his necklace of their owners. It looked like this all around furniture, the fire reflecting off their glass eyethe crucifix. He grasped it and shut his eyes the house, not an inch empty of these holy balls. Each one was unique and had exquisite tight, saying a prayer in his head. David let artifacts. David continued his walk up the detail put into them. David wondered who the necklace go and continued to walk down path. The fog hovered above the graves, would create such perfect dolls and leave them

The

Fragrant

Julienne Tsang

Harbor

I dreamt of the neon lights by 7/11 And I felt the lemon pop on my tongue And when I stopped to look to heaven The pain in my heart barely stung I dreamt of drowning within the water so blue And the peaks scattered and bundled between Soon I forgot the impossible you As I dove deeper into the urban scene I dreamt of the simple taste of porridge I dreamt of the neon lights by 7/11 And I felt the lemon pop on my tongue And when I stopped to look to heaven The pain in my heart barely stung I dreamt of drowning within the water so blue And the peaks scattered and bundled between Soon I forgot the impossible you As I dove deeper into the urban scene I dreamt of the simple taste of porridge And of the street food that never slept And I looked down from the foot bridge And out of joy, nearly wept And of the street food that never slept And I looked down from the foot bridge And out of joy, nearly wept

Virtual d n e i r f y Bo Creator foxgloves

Her fingers clasped tightly around the doorknob to her bedroom. Her ears rang and tears clung to her reddened cheeks. “Trust me, Trina! He’s no good for you, anyways!” her mother called from downstairs. She shut her eyes tight and flung open her bedroom door with a yank. She slammed the door behind her before throwing herself onto her bed in a crumpled mess. Roderick had broken Katrina’s heart one too many times. So had all the other boys. This wasn’t supposed to happen with Roderick, though. They were the off and on type. It was typical of them to be split for months at a time. But this time was very different, and as far as Katrina was concerned, there would be no ‘on’ again. Wiping her eyes, she made her way over to her computer. It was a large screen with a small modern looking keyboard that lit up. Looking on the black screen, she could see her long blonde hair in a tangled mess and her mascara running down her face. “On,” she croaked out, waiting for the screen to power up. She’d show Roderick. She’d show everyone. She didn’t even need a real man. She knew where to find one who would make her happy forever. Katrina opened Google. www.myvirtualboyfriend.com Normally, this would be completely absurd. However, she had done research on these AIs as a joke with her friend, Polly. It may have been in the heat of the moment, but right now, she really wanted a virtual boyfriend. There were so many boyfriends to choose from. She clicked a form where she could create her very own. It was almost like a survey for what she wanted in a boyfriend. She was given a trait and asked to rate its importance from 1-10.

in her chair and clicked, ‘create’. She spent the next fifteen minutes organizing her computer folders and files to prepare for his arrival. An icon appeared on her desktop labeled, “Boyfriend” with a heart as the graphic. She clicked on it, and a whole new world opened before her. There was a pink and blue menu screen with four buttons.

Masculinity: 7 Intelligence: 10 Affection: 10 Rebellion: 3 Comedicness: 8

Health Awareness: 10

Responsibility: 8 Strength: 8

“Thanks baby.” he said, winking. “I’ve got something for you,” he turned around and pulled out a bouquet of roses. “Wow! For me? Thank you, Finn.” she said. He was so intriguing… and virtual. “Anytime, beautiful. How was your day?” he asked a second time. Suddenly it sank in. This was cheap. He wouldn’t last long. It already seemed he wasn’t listening to her story. But then again, what did she expect? Did she really think the internet could solve this problem? This was nothing more than a kids game with some nice graphics. Katrina wished there was a way he could be smarter. She had really made a connection. If only it was real. Then, she got an idea. Maybe it could be real.

The next set of questions were about his physical appearance.

Hair Length: Medium Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Green Height: Tall Weight: Average Style: Casual

And finally, it asked for a name.

Name: Finn Trina was happy with what she had done. She sat back

“Call Finn” “Video Chat Finn” “Text Finn” “Breakup” An interesting selection. It was almost overwhelming. This new person in her life… he would surely be important. What if he wasn’t what Trina wanted? She was set in this plan, what if it didn’t work? Go back to normal boys? Yeah right. She never wanted to talk to another real boy again. Deciding she wanted to see him, she clicked, “Video Call.” A dark loading screen appeared and then… he was there. A heavily built boy with messy brown hair, dull green eyes and a witty smirk. It was remarkable, he wasn’t made of pixels it seemed. He looked real. So incredibly real. “Wow…” Trina mumbled. “Hello Katrina. How was your day?” Finn asked. His voice was smooth and clear. “H-Hi… my day was terrible.” She said. She wanted to vent to someone who wouldn’t get annoyed… and now she could! Trina almost forgot she was talking to a robot. She decided to test his limits. She told him all about the day and what had happened. “That’s not good. Hopefully tomorrow is better.” he paused, “You look lovely today.” “Thank you. You look amazing.” She told him. He really did. This was her dream guy brought to life.

She had done it; hacked her way into the system of scientists who had created the first AI human robots. She found the coding used for these robots and made a file that she could insert into the application that ran Finn. Hacking was second nature to her, she was a proud computer geek. Getting the code was easy. The hard part would be implementing it into the already existing data of Finn’s programming. Trina worked her way into the software,

essentially rewiring the entirety of how Finn worked and what he was capable of. “Alright…” Trina muttered, restarting the computer. Her screen instantly lit up and a message popped up,

Finn is Calling! Katrina was startled by the sudden loud music and flashing screen. She clicked accept, and soon, her virtual boyfriend appeared before her. Although, he was slightly different than before. He looked less tired. He was bulkier, and there were tiny glitches floating around and flickering. She also noticed something else, his eyes were a blazing green rather than their dull lime. “Hello Finn.” “Hello Katrina. How are you?” “I’m better, now that you’re here,” she said. “Haha, I feel the same way. I’m glad you’re not feeling terrible anymore,” he said. Trina sighed, his voice even sounded more realistic. And hey? He remembered she was feeling badly earlier. “Any plans for tonight?” Finn asked. “Well, Polly is supposed to come over to grab her notes she left here yesterday.” Katrina explained. “Ah I see. Is Polly a good friend?” “Yes. She is my best friend.” “I thought I was your best friend?” Finn asked, putting a hand on his chest. “Haha, you’re just as important. She’s my girl bff. No reason to be so jealous Finn….” she giggled. “I have every reason to be. Who knows when you’ll be taken from me. Once someone realizes how great you are, they’ll steal ya for sure.” Trina blushed. A computer made her blush. The two of them talked as if they’d been together for years. Katrina told him stories of her life and of Roderick, she watched Finn grow angry at those she expressed a dislike to. She watched him become excited at happy events she’s had. She even watched as he asked questions that were put together from previous things she’d told him. It really had worked; Finn was learning. It was like talking to a real person. “Hold on, that’s the doorbell.” Trina said, getting up. “Is that Polly?” Finn asked. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Finn blew a kiss from the screen and looked at the floor. He glitched slightly as he looked around the room. His and Katrina’s, as if they were connected. He carefully moved his hand up to the screen, and touched it. He quickly retracted his hand at the hissing sound that occurred during the contact. “Alright… Here’s Finn!” Katrina said, opening her door. Polly walked in, her dark skin standing out against Katrina’s light painted room. She turned to the computer monitor. “Hello Polly. Nice to meet you. I hear nice things about you.” Finn said, waving. “Hey…” Polly waved half-heartedly. She leaned over to Trina with a forced smile and whispered, “This is freaky! What if he goes bonkers?” “Incorrect. I cannot “go” bonkers, if I were to ever be, I’d

be programmed that way from the start.” Finn stated. Polly gulped, “Aha, right.” Trina rolled her eyes, “It’s fine. He’s really nice.” “He’s also fake.” “Virtual,” “What’s the difference? You need to be talking to real people. Not staring at your screen for even longer than you do already!” “Oh stop it, just…” Katrina grabbed Polly’s notebook from off of her desk, “take your stuff.” “You’re kicking me out?” Polly asked. “I’m kinda on a date right now…” she motioned towards the computer and Finn gave a gleaming smile. “Jeez alright… y’know I’ll admit he’s pretty cute. For a bunch of pixels.” Polly said, whispering. Katrina thought she saw Finn’s eyes brighten. “Heh yeah. Bye now!” She shut the door behind her friend and sat back at her computer desk. “Polly… does not like me.” Finn said, his face looked like stone. “No no, that’s not it… she’s just not… used to this. That’s all.” Katrina assured him. “I hope so.”

It wasn’t long before Finn had consumed Trina’s life. She had been spending an unhealthy amount of time talking to him. They’d shared drinks, meals, and would even sleep at the same time. Trina would leave her computer monitor on while they both slept. She’d even skip classes to come home and speak with him. She had told him everything there was to know about her. Yet he asked more questions. He was so invested in her. He was getting smarter. He’d ask about real world situations, like the hurricane in Puerto Rico, or how the president’s policy was impacting certain states. But Katrina loved it. He was nerdy and geeky like her. He talked about computers all the time and all the techy stuff Katrina loved. It took almost no time for Finn to develop a personality of his own. He was spunky, nerdy, but also down to Earth and caring. Polly had come over again, trying to convince Katrina to leave her own house. Her mother was doing the same. “We’re just worried about you…” Katrina’s mother said sadly. Polly nodded. “There’s no need to worry. She’s in good hands,” Finn said. “Will you please turn him off?” Her mother asked. Trina turned to the screen to see Finn’s eyes blazing green, and his figure glitching a bit. “No… sorry.” Trina said. “You’re going to school tomorrow. This skipping nonsense is unacceptable. He’s not even real, and you need your education.” Her mother demanded. “Plus, I miss you,” Polly said. Trina frowned. As much as she missed everything, she’d miss Finn even more. It was like they were connected through some unseen force. And she didn’t much appreciate them saying he wasn’t real.

She did end up going to school the next day. “I’m glad you came…” Polly said, running up to her in the hallway. “I’m not…” Trina sighed, “I miss him.” She pulled out her vibrating phone.

“Okay Finn, I’m coming home. Call you when I get there.” She walked out of the bathroom and hit the end call button. Her finger was zapped. “Ow!” “Why would you hang up? We can talk while you walk.” Finn said, flickering slightly.

Katrina had a pit in her stomach.

Message from Finn Hello beautiful. I miss you.;)<3 What…? Katrina smiled slightly, her eyes showing confusion. “Uhm?!” Polly snatched the phone and read the message. “You have this prick on your phone too? He’s like stalking you!” “He’s my boyfriend! He can stalk me. And… n-no… actually I don’t.” “What do you mean you don’t?” Polly’s eyes widened as she looked at the phone. “I mean I didn’t download the software onto my phone… I actually don’t know how he did that.”

Hello? Text me back! <3 <3

“This is creepy!! He’s taking over your life. You need to delete him.” Polly said. Katrina frowned, “No way! I couldn’t possibly do that.”

Don’t keep me waiting.

Katrina watched as her phone continued to buzz, with his messages popping up.

What could possibly be more important than me? Come on, boo. <3 <3 <3 ;) :) Katrina’s phone freaked out until Finn appeared on the screen. “Trina!” he glitched. “Why aren’t you answering my messages!?” “Aaah!” Trina screamed and threw her phone across the hallway. Her fellow students stared at her. Polly ran and picked up the phone, pulling Trina into the girl’s bathroom. “Leave Katrina alone!” Polly shouted into the microphone. “Why would I? You’re just jealous of our relationship.” he replied. “Katrina. Please, come home so we can chat. I miss you.” he winked. All the while, he was spazzing and glitching. “Are you kidding me?! Katrina this is nuts!” Polly slid the phone to the other side of the room. “You need to go home and delete him, right now. He’s crazy! Did you program him with insane AI or something?!” “Kinda… yeah. I wanted him to be as real as possible,” “Katrina!! Oh my gosh… delete him,” “O-Okay…” Trina sulked over to the phone, picking it up. “There’s my beautiful girl…” Finn said, smiling. Polly nodded.

“Listen, I am very sorry about all of that. I got really lonely. My prime objective is to make you happy, and love you. Without you here, I did not know what to do with myself,” Finn said, morphing his way onto Katrina’s computer screen, which was off. Trina was startled. She sighed, “I know, Finn. I could never be mad at you.” Finn flexed his muscles and winked at Katrina. Her cheeks flushed. “You know… Polly wanted me to delete you.” “She what?” He asked, his graphics malfunctioning to an even higher degree. “Sh-She’s just worried about me is all! But don’t worry… I could never delete you.” It was true. Katrina had an attachment. He was her boyfriend after all. How could she just get rid of him? She was so happy with him. It continued on as normal, Katrina spent time talking with Finn until the night, and through the night. They didn’t hang up or sleep. It got significantly worse. Finn was all she cared about. Even he noticed, so he asked her to take a shower. Trina had just gotten out of the shower when Polly texted her. “Hey… I know ur probably still grieving, but, I’m proud of u. When will u b back to school?” Shoot. She had forgotten all about her promise to Polly. “Yeah.. I don’t know yet.” “You DID delete him, right?” “Mhm.” “Mhm my ass. Coming over.” Trina’s heart sank. Polly was coming. “Who were you texting, just now?” Finn asked, coming onto the screen with a sandwich. “Oh just Polly. She’s coming over. I’ll call you back okay? Love you.” She moved her mouse to the “end call” button. Finn quickly reached up and ripped the mouse away from the button. “Hey now, there’s no need.” He said, crumpling the mouse into a tiny ball. “Uh?!” Katrina scooted away from the computer. “What? I can be ar0und too, cAn’t I?” he asked. What had he just done? How was that possible? Good thing her computer was touch screen. Otherwise it would be useless without a new mouse. “Remember? Polly w-wanted me to delete you! She’d be really upset if she saw you!” “Well I guess she’ll have to learn to accept me.” Finn said. He was glitching all over the place at this point. “No Finn. I’ll call you back.” Katrina reached up to the screen and pushed the “End Call” button. But then her finger was stuck. She pulled back, and she saw that it

was Finn who was holding her finger. “Finn?!” she cried. She yanked back as hard as she could, and while doing so, she slowly pulled her virtual boyfriend out of the screen. A green glow erupted from the computer as pixels flew. Finn’s eyes were green flames, emitting a bright hued mist. He stepped entirely outside of the monitor and stood on her carpet, pixels flickering around him. There he was. Her virtual boyfriend was looming over her, holding onto her index finger. “Hello Katrina.” He said. Trina was hyperventilating. He let go of her finger and smiled. His voice dropped to a computerized growl, “I’m breaking up with you.” A frenzy of wires poured out of Finn’s mouth as his jaw unhinged. The wires tangled together as sentient beings and wrapped themselves around Katrina. They squirmed out of him, stretching down to the floor. They stuffed themselves inside Trina’s mouth to muffle her screams. They wrapped themselves around her arms and legs, ensuring her capture. Finn’s eyes glowed so brightly, it could be seen from outside. Her entire room was green. “You don’t get to delete me.” Katrina was struggling against the wires, but it was no use. Finn pulled her computer keyboard into his hands, and looked down at her, his mouth still propped open by the wires. “Press ‘Delete’ to end.” he growled. He looked to the keyboard and slammed his finger on the ‘delete’ button. A green spark erupted from the keys. It flew from ‘delete’ and ran through his finger, travelling through his veins and to the wires that fell from his gaping mouth. And finally, down to Katrina. The charge followed the wires into her mouth and around her body. They electrocuted her, ensnaring her into a ball of light and source code numbers until all that was left was a pile of dead pixels. Finn sucked the wires back into his mouth, taking the pixels with them. His eyes returned to normal, with just a bit more brightness. He smiled and climbed back into the monitor.

A while passed before Polly arrived. “Katrina?! Hello?!” she called, running into the room. It was empty. Trina’s clock ticked quietly, her music played softly, and her computer hummed. Polly went over to the computer. “Hello?” she asked. It was just a screen that showed Finn’s empty room. “Hello!?!” “Oh. Hello Polly.” “Where’s Trina?!” she demanded. “I deleted her...Press ‘delete’ to end.” An explosion of wire broke through the screen. They enclosed around Polly and dragged her into the computer, her screams melting away. The monitor went black. And the room fell silent, once again.

This story was inspired by "Virtual Boyfriend", a song written and perfomed by Poly Styrene, the punk legend.

The Magician By Proto

And The

The streets were black. Covered with muck and dirt. Feces were dumped on the sides of alleys behind the merchant tents. They were the worst. They nagged and bugged until you either bought from them or ran. Tony liked to avoid them by going through the back alley. It was darker behind the big tudor styles homes. People went there to exchange goods, people, and items of great value. Tony walked through, keeping his head down. He wanted no trouble. He walked down the filthy streets to the Murky bar. He arrived to the broken district. Few buildings still stood. They were destroyed during the plague era and were never repaired. A dim light shone through the cracks of the wood of the bar. He slowly pushed open the doors and saw her. Her name was Lola and she was the reason why Tony wanted to live. She wore a beautiful golden dress and yellow feathers stuck out of her hair. She worked late every night. Tony got done early and went to see her perform every time. He looked around at the bar, with soft candle light and an audience watching Lola. He silently watched her dance on the stage, her intricate movement, each step mattering more than the last. Tony reached in his pocket, hoping for a few coins, but only found a some cards and bandanas. Lola made sure Tony could get into the bar every night, so he could greet her after she finished. He slumped back and watched her all through the night.

Tony walked past the farm, it’s wheat staring back at him like gold. He walked past the farm and towards the gate, it’s gargoyles perched atop the arch warding off any sign of hope. Tony walked back down the alley. Raindrops fell on the back of his neck as he arrived to his box. It was a brown wooden box, barely being held together. Tony stepped up on it. He

Dancer

carefully lifted his hat off and set it in front of him on the street, upside down. The hat had been empty for weeks. He reached deep in his pocket and pulled out the cards. He tried to appeal to anyone, tried to make someone stop and be interested in his game of luck. He tried all day but no one stopped. No one had any money, much less any to give. Tony put his tricks away and left early. He walked back down the alley and to the Murky Bar, where he could see the reason he lived: his golden girl. He pushed open the doors and slumped over to his usual spot. He glanced up on stage, and Lola wasn’t there. Tony got up and walked over to the man in charge. Tony asked where she was, and the only response he got was that she took a break and went to the golden fields to clear her mind. Tony walked out of the bar, into the dark, gray world. He walked slowly along the alleyway and towards the farm. He passed through a large cement archway, indicating he was leaving the town. There were two giant gargoyles on each pillar, each one’s eyes red with hate. Tony walked to the the farm. And saw a shine in the distance. He walked through the fields of gold to towards the glow. Then he saw waiting in the wheat. She was dancing in small patch where nothing grew, eyes closed and not a care in the world. Tony walked out of the wheat and towards the fire. Lola snapped open her eyes and saw Tony approaching. She walked towards him and embracing him. She grew a smile and embraced Tony. Tony looked down at the patch of dirt and saw a small green sprout of something new, something unknown growing from the barren wasteland. Tony looked up at her and the suddenly everything was different. The clouds rotated enough to let a small beam of light shine through on the two. They danced all through the night.

Bright Natalie Kent sun’s passionate kiss the color of pink lemonade hurts like hell but, after, you’ll be beautiful, darling don’t stay too long or those barks will become bites and you won’t be so beautiful anymore oh how she burns just for you.

Young Dreams Young Dreams Lucas Hall

Crystalin windows reveal the outside The hills roll and clouds cry, sun sighs, birds fly It’s a beautiful place, but at its full we cannot see. No, younger is how I wish to be. I still remember some of my dreams Of sunlight, and piles of leaves. Oh, was it a dream? I think fantasy used to have a broken seam, Where life seemed like a movie scene. I miss those days. I don’t remember when it stopped; Someone must’ve stitched up the spot Where dreams leaked in, where they now do not. I’ve tried to undo it, but the weaver’s well taught Yet the weaver left clause in the work they’ve done The thread that they’ve threaded comes loose in the sun. Color is lighter and tongue comes undone Heart opens up and mind starts to run Closed eyes black, turn to beaches from far Gateways appear where were metal bars. But then winter follows, warm summer days And mind becomes stuck back in a jumbled up faze Lips become numb and struggle to speak Bold actions leave, and movements become meek Seams close and in nowhere they sleep

Whatever Happened to David? The car would not start. It had been like this for around ten minutes and there was no solution in sight. David looked around, not sure what to do. His car had started to stall, and when he pulled over, it died. Nothing would start. David felt rain drops on his neck. This was the last thing he needed. He realized nothing could be done. He looked up and down the foggy street. Not a light in sight. David slammed the hood and grabbed his keys. He opened the trunk and grabbed his backpack out of the darkness. He looked inside and saw his book, some earbuds, a sweatshirt, a water bottle, and a phone charger. He frowned, knowing that his phone had died during the trip. He dropped his phone in the bag, on top of the sweatshirt. He pulled the backpack around and slid the straps onto his arms. He then locked the car and with a beep, he knew it was time to start walking. David walked for a long time. He didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know how long, as it was dark and he could only faintly see the white road line through the mist. He continued to follow it through the night. David thought it was weird that he did not see any road signs. He reached into his shirt and pulled out his necklace of the crucifix. He grasped it and shut his eyes tight, saying a prayer in his head. David let the necklace go and continued to walk down

26 3

the forsaken road. It must have been midnight by the time he saw a light. It was a faint white light in the distance, a shining beacon of hope. David reached into his pack and pulled out his water bottle. It was near empty and David downed the last of it. He continued walking, noticing how the road turned to gravel and dirt. It seemed as if the trees had reached in towards, grasping to carry him into their leaves. David could no longer see anything but the light. He approached it with caution, this whole ordeal seeming out of a horror movie. He took the last few steps towards the light and saw it floating there on the road. Suddenly, it went out, leaving the dark to come flowing back over David. He shivered as he turned and saw it there: a large house, with a single light on in a room on the second floor. David walked toward the house, growing colder every minute. He carefully took each step as he approached the mass of wood. He noticed that in front of the house was a graveyard, as there were crosses poking out of the ground at every available inch of the lawn. Even in the trees crosses were hanging down, looking very old and abandoned by their owners. It looked like this all around the house, not an inch empty of these holy artifacts. David continued his walk up the path. The fog hovered above the graves,

giving off an eerie vibe. David walked up the front steps and with a lunge, pounded three times on the door. The door stood silent, as the house did. After a few moments, David heard the distinct sound of the door unlocking, and it creaked open. David pushed it open and walked inside, closing the door behind him. He looked around the foyer of the house. It was dark, but not so dark that nothing could be seen. He could make out the stairs, a doorway to another room, and long hallway with many picture frames that covered the wall all the way to the top. Out of nowhere, an orange light illuminated the room at the end of the hallway. David jumped a little, but started to walk to the light. He glanced at the pictures on the wall. Each picture had a different person on it, some of families, some of couples, but not one the same. Overlooking this, he continued to walk to the room, where he found a roaring fire, a big chair, and a table in between the fire and chair. There was a note on the table. It read: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Welcome traveler! Please be at home in this house. Feel free to spend the night and use our resources to aid in your journey!â&#x20AC;? David looked around, noticing more than few porcelain dolls scattered among the furniture, the fire reflecting off their glass eyeballs. Each one was unique and had exquisite detail put into them. David wondered who would create such perfect dolls and leave them

in this house. He picked one up, noticing the lack of wear, as if they were brand new. He had never seen such precision put into dolls like this. He set them down carefully and continued to walk around the house. After looking around the house, looking through the rooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and noticing the workshop out back. He picked out the room with the least number of dolls in it and pulled his belongings out of his bag. He moved all of the dolls that creepily stared at him to the back end of the room, where the wouldn’t be as close to his bed. David took off his sweatshirt, leaving him in a t-shirt and shorts, and slid under the sheets of the bed. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his book. The book was “In Our Time” by Ernest Hemingway. He read a little, noting some different aspects of the text and some more in depth meanings, but got tired quick. He knew that he needed to get up early tomorrow, so he closed his eyes, exhausted from a long day. ---------------------------David was sure there was someone else in the house. He had clearly heard the sound of faint footsteps, the sound echoing around the house. He slowly got up, put on his shoes, and peeked out of his room. The was not a light anywhere, not artificial, or natural like the fire. David, who could barely see, found his way down the hall and started to walk down the stairs. He accidently kicked something, feeling it on his foot and then hearing the sound of porcelain smashing a second later. He continued to walk down the stairs, only stopping to carefully walk over the smashed doll. As he was walking down, he noticed the pictures on the wall. The eyes of each person were glowing red. David hurried down the last few steps and stopped in his tracks. Hundreds of dolls surrounded him at the bottom of the stairs, each one looking straight at him. Their eyes glowed red too. Not a single one moved. David, now scared senseless, took very tiny steps to avoid touching any one of them. He was just near the end of the lot when suddenly, something shot out in front of his legs, causing him to fall

into the dolls. The dolls shattered and pieces of porcelain stuck into David, who was now bleeding in many spots. The last thing he saw was a set of red eyes looking straight into him as he passed out. In his dream there was fire everywhere. David was sweating from the heat and there was no escape. It burned him, ravaged him, leaving him raw. He tried to run but there was no escape. The fire creeped up on him, leaving his muscles dead, and David laid there, descending into the flames. David woke with a start and quickly looked all around him to see what was going on. He was hanging by ropes on the ceiling. There was a raging fire right in front of him. Dolls surrounded him, each one silent and still, staring at David. He saw that there were windows as well as tools all around. He was in the workshop. Hanging all around him were various parts of dolls and porcelain plates, creating a very disturbing environment. The only sound in the room was the roaring fire. It was heating up a boiling pot of glass. David struggled to get free, but the restraints too strong to break. David shut his eyes tight. The pot rose and floated right over top of David. He screamed and panicked looking for any last hope. He reached for his necklace, hoping for some relief of the fear and intimate death upon him. Then the pot tipped over. The molten glass flowed right down David, but he didn’t feel anything. It traversed all over him. Not a drop fell to the ground. It completely encased him, but there was no pain. David shrunk to the size of a doll, just as his eyes glassed over. Pieces of porcelain flew off the walls and encased the glass around him. Paint soared from the cans detailing David’s face. Fabric stitched itself together, mirroring the outfit David was wearing. At last David was now a porcelain doll, nothing left of his previous self. David looked around, noticing his new family, now and forever.

Epilogue A new picture appeared on the frame that day, a picture of a man. All alone he stood in front of the house, his eyes glowing red. A doll that looks just like him now lays near a roaring fire, waiting for the next person to come along.

The Moral of the Story Always charge your phone before a long trip

Proto

4 27

The Fairies

“Her mouth smiled, but her shoulders sagged. Her arms swayed, but her feet dragged. Her laughter was light, but her cheerfulness forced. She looked care free, but she was full of remorse. Like a puppet on a string she did dance, Praying that someone would give her a chance. Her eyes wandering to the silvery moon, Wishing on stars that it’d go down soon And then Never rise again. When morning came we all laid down to rest. Sliding into closing primroses we slept. She slept on the ground on a dried leaves spread. By evening come she was dead.”

Megan Slater

The Little Girl’s

Revenge

Lightning flashed through the black, illuminating the room that Orwell sat in, lost in his thoughts. An large fireplace burned next to him, the wood crackling and popping, and he sighed. “Orwell come to bed it’s getting late, you know I don’t like to be alone when it’s thundering outside,” his wife Juliet quietly said from under the large luxurious bedspread keeping her warm. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there in a minute dear. You know I must send out this letter by tomorrow. Maria will want to know that her sister, Margaret, died.” His wife Juliet shook her head when he said the name Maria. “It’s such a shame that the girl died in our care; of course we’ll be blamed for it,” Juliet said. “The girl was ungrateful; the only thing she was good for was cleaning the chimney and washing the dishes,” Orwell said in return, Juliet just frowned and shook her head but said nothing. Orwell continued on the letter and looked out the window. The rain beat against the glass and patterned on the stone that made up their grand estate. Although the outside was dark, he continued to stare out the window, looking for inspiration, yet all he saw was that young girl’s pale, still face. He pretended that her death was not on his mind, but it very much was, still haunting him. It was strange; after he had watched the young girl get lowered down into the ground he began to see her face outside of every window in his house, and inside every shop keeper’s window. At first he had dismissed the appearance of the little girls face, supposed that he was simply seeing things. Yet as time went by the encounters seemed to grow more and more concrete. Each day, she got closer, each day the girl’s features grew clearer and crisper. Orwell rubbed his eyes and looked away from the window, back down to the paper which he was writing on, trying to think of what to say so he could climb in bed with his wife, but nothing came. “Damn this! I must finish it in the morning; I’m so tired I can’t think straight!” Orwell tiredly climbed out of his chair, threw a bucket of water on the fire, and collapsed into bed. He laid still in his bed, but he could not sleep, the young girl’s pale face haunting his every thought, appearing when he closed his eyes. The room was pitch black, no light anywhere, yet he turned and looked towards where he knew the window to be. The hairs on the back of his exposed neck began to stand on end, as if his body knew something that his brain did not. Suddenly lightning struck a tree outside, lighting the tree on fire, yet Orwell barely noticed. On the other side of the window, illuminated by the blazing tree, was the young girl, her face pale as the sliver of moon that hung outside the window. She looked as if she had just crawled out of her grave, her hair speckled with dirt, her face sunken in and rotting. As the tree outside flickered in various lights, Orwell slowly sat up, his mouth hanging open from horror. He watched in a mixture of confusion and horror as the girl reached slowly towards the window and pressed her hand onto the glass. Smiling, she knocked on the window. Her hand thumping one, two, three, but then on the fourth there was no thump, and not because Orwell could not hear the thump, but because her hand had simply fazed through the glass. Orwell’s eyes widened she pressed both hands unto the bottom of the window pane and hoisted herself up and into the room.

Frantically, Orwell looked for an exit. The only way out that could possibly work was the now empty window frame, the door, he believed, would take too long to open. He sprinted towards the window and jumped through the large sill. He landed hard on the ground, and a sharp pain shot up his leg. He looked down to see that his ankle was twisted in a disturbingly unnatural way--it was broken for sure. Despite the pain, he managed to get to get off the ground and begin to hobble away from the house on one foot, his energy fueled by fear--adrenaline blocking the pain. “You know you won’t get away. Just give up, it will be so much easier to just give in than to keep stumbling along,” she called to him, she was now below the window sill and was slowly pursuing him. “Never!” Orwell screamed as he quickened his staggering. Orwell’s fear was building even greater, something he’d thought impossible. The way she was keeping her distance scared him more than anything. It was almost like she was coraling him somewhere. Where she was forcing him to go soon became obvious as tombstones began to appear, speckling the ground, they were in the town cemetery. He slowly began to lose hope of getting away and finally just fell to the ground. “Just do it.” He said, his voice slightly wavering. “Gladly.” She said. With a swift swing of the girls hand the ground opened up and swallowed Orwell. The girl turned away and slowly shuffled over to a uncovered casket in the ground. She opened it up and climbed into the sarcophagus, as soon as she closed the lid the ground moved to cover her up, leaving no sign that even a piece of grass had even been touched.

Written by Lucas Hall 31

colors by natalie kent he was a chameleon changing all sorts of colors but his favorite color was blue

SAME

by Natasha Matusick Many canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t find the reasons to keep going through the seasons. Cause itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all just a tradition to not pay the tuition. Of the plague that haunts us all when the piece seems to fall. Inside the life they call a game and to that I say, same.

Chicagoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Valentine

In the winterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s night conflict shall arise. Nineteen twenty-nine feuding wars will pry: Crimson bloodshed by rivals as demise, Chicago alleys where love lays to die. February fourteenth, shots scrape away. Lives lost in vain at the hand of the corrupt: Skies of vast dark, streets of pale gray, Bootlegging at its peak will hold abrupt. Fingers pointed and blame to be placed, Public enemy number one is caught: Behind jail cell bars Capone is faced. Unruly and hard, the battle was fought.

Murders had taken place and time was done Al Capone never left, nor had he won.

S.F. 34

Crouch

wow thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a blue dog why are condiments talking must be a drug trip

green stripes on my chest feeling weight of something bad where is my notebook gotta write this down the mailbox is watching, hide i can never leave where is the exit dont have time to look for clues just got a letter

talking to no one can you help me out today? want to leave this maze

everything hurts now i think they took my liver everyday i suffer