Plume | Spring 2019 by Plume

Plume Spring Edition 2019

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 4 5 6 7 8 9-10 11-16 17 18 19-20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28-30 31-32 33 34-36

Suffocating In Grief Anonymous The Fragrant Harbor Julienne Tsang The Life of Mr. Smith Rebakah Knarr The Hum of A Lion Rebakah Knarr The Attack Commences Nick Sweet Come Quietly Anonymous Antiques (Something Important) Anonymous Bright Natalie Kent Coming Soon Foxgloves Excerpt From The Light Bringer Luke Johnson The Poor Farmer Lucas Hall Robot MJP While The Cold Winds Blow in the Night John Hazlett Words Toby the Cat Dear Sky Anonymous Today (Memory) Anonymous Some Things Chandler Erway The Day Drugs Took My Mother Rebakah Knarr Featured Writers Rebakah Knarr & Nick Sweet Questions Adam Bibalo Simonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Journey Nick Sweet Little Bird MJP Hate Rebakah Knarr The Girl and The God Cameron Reilly-Steele

Suffocating

Grief

It is like there is this part of my body that just doesn’t feel the same It makes me want to sway back and forth grab my knees and let my mind go astray It feels like a rainy day when you want to run and play but the storm won’t go away It hurts from the inside out and has a hold of your wrist and won’t let up It lingers around every corner, you will never forget it It was like a love you left behind for her: was she prettier than me or was it just a sudden urge

Anonymous

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

Life of Mr. Smith Most people have no idea what it is that I do, some think that what I do isn’t exactly the most important job in the world. Frankly, I don’t consider what I do a job at all, so those people would be right. I don’t wake up every morning, put on these clothes, brush my teeth, and smile widely in the mirror just because I have a job to go to. No, no, no, not at all. I do all of that because I get to walk into a building full of students and stand in a room full of bright eyed, sprung, young adults who love what I love. What is it that I love? I love music of course. I teach choir, guitar, and piano along with playing in a band and helping direct in the drama department. I honestly couldn’t think of a better thing to do with my life. Well anyways, now that you know what I do, I can explain how a “normal” day goes for me...if you even call it that. You see, I wake up every morning and look over at the most beautiful woman on the planet, smiling, because how could I not? I sling my legs over the side of my bed and sit up, rubbing my face to get myself fully awake. I get dressed in some nice pants, matching either a button-up shirt or a regular t-shirt like today which I usually tend to garnish with a patterned tie or a suit jacket. I then walk to my kitchen and make myself something to eat. Cereal, toast sometimes. Nothing too complicated because soon after I eat I’m off to Corning Painted Post High School to set up for my first class of the day. When I get to the school, I walk in with my shoulders back and a large smile plastered across my face. The smile isn’t there because I’m trying to impress anybody or make people think that I’m happy, it’s there because

I’m genuinely excited to see all of my students and get to jammin’ on my guitar. I have a few folders in my hand, new music ideas for the kids you know? Maybe a beatles medley or another religious song in Italian. I love the Italian language, I believe that singing in a different language is more interesting and appealing to the ear. After making my way down the long hallway that leads to the band and choir rooms, I unlock the door to the choir room and say goodmorning to my partner in crime, Mrs. H-C. The thing about Mrs. H-C is that she’s such a sweet person, and getting to spend every day with someone who loves music as much as I do is such a gift. Her and I connect on a deep level and we agree on a lot of things. Some people say that having two teachers is difficult, and even though her and I have our small disagreements about things like music choices or where to put the sopranos and altos, teaching with her is great. We sit together in our office making memories, planning, loving music, eating, and laughing. The best, and hardest, part of my day comes when classes begin. The first class I teach is during first period. I love watching all the students pour into the classroom. What I don’t love? Witnessing the makeout sessions in front of my choir door. Like yes okay, we know you them love them very much but can you love them without your tongue down their throat? It would be greatly appreciated. Thank you. After everyone finally makes it through the double doors, they grab their folders and sit down on the carpeted risers that squeak in

by Rebakah Knarr places and dip down in others. I’d kill to have new ones, polished ones, risers that make our choir look more professional. I stand near the corner or by the piano and watch them all talk, some of them sing the music, and some of them sit on each other. I didn’t actually know that my students were chairs. Once the late bell rings, I make my way over to the piano and sit down on the stool. I play the first few chords of our warm-up that let the kids know it’s time to stand up and sing. They all stand slowly and move around and shake their shoulders as I continue to play the first tune. I give them a few more warmups to do after the first one. Fast ones to test their articulation, slow ones to test how well they connect their phrases, and even some where I have them show the solfege symbol for the note we sing. Occasionally I’ll speed up, making them all mess up and the classroom fills with laughter and conversation. Following warm-ups, we sing the pieces that I’ve chosen for that particular class and work on certain parts of each. It’s different for each section, sometimes the tenors have a hard time matching each other, maybe the altos are trying to imitate the sopranos, and sometimes the basses sing too low and I have to work to get them to sing higher. Overall, I’m really proud of my students. They work so hard all year to learn and memorize the pieces that I give them. They help each other and work together and seeing all of it brings me a lot of

joy and happiness. The cycle of classes continues all day, except for my guitar class which I teach a little differently. I love every class that I teach though, and I’m really happy that this is my day.

The Hun of a Lion Rebakah Knarr

Unmistakable The courageous sound you make Its hum is a roar

The Attack Commences Another brawl in the square As the old man flies alone The final stand arrives to decide The fate of mankind arrives briskly The old man waits by the fire His chair moving slowly Waiting as the sloth sits in the damp jungle For the attack of the cultural renaissance Suddenly the door opens, and warm air blows And one more through the snap of death The warm air turns cold, as I brace myself For the attack of life itself No more shall I walk these streets No more shall the saints sing gold No more shall I see the heavens sing Their song of rebirth, now warns of dismissal I am taken away from the world My memories are all that remain Yet, their memories donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t recall me As I died years ago, before the wheels began spinning Wait for me as I cross the bridge And see the change of time The distortion of ages The twisting of seasons

I pass into the Kingdom, with a knife

Nick Sweet

Come Quietly anonymous

Rain, bring earth to life. Wind, smell of wonderful things. Spring quietly comes.

Behind the dust and rust Stories now show

History never forgotten within these valuable souls

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.

My breath is heavy My heart, pounding. The door swings open, and I slip through. Darkness swallows me, throwing off my view. I shut my eyes tight, the dark taking over me. I now can see. What once was black is now a shimmering blue. A calmness comes over me. I swim through the light, drowning in it’s blanket of bliss. I can’t come up for air. The oxygen in my lungs bubbles through my nose, escaping into the depths of the water. I’m meant to be here. It will not hurt me. Sinking down, my feet touch the solid black floor. They rush by me. The black serpents of the dark. They dart around in the blue glow, flashing by without time to say hello. They are quick, they are swift, and they too belong here. They are familiar. We have been around forever.

My hand finds the divide. It’s silky husk runs through my fingers. On the other side is our world. The one we created together. A blinding light pierces the hollow water. This one is warm, yellow and white. I break through the surface. The water splits as I step into the glowing light. I’m entering the world we’ve made. I bring it to life. I tell a story. Together we show them what we can create. We work as one to make history. Words are yelled, screamed and cried. We move together, acting out the lines. The light fades. It’s black again. We run to the water and dive right in. I hold my breath, ready to release the next time. It holds the secrets to life. To imagination. They are my family. And we have a gift. We break from our cage. We give you a show. By breathing life Onto the stage.

Coming Soon Foxgloves

An Exerpt from...

The Light Bringer By Luke Johnson 11

The lands ‘round the town of Flak were barren, it felt almost like a winter wasteland as I felt the cold air bite into me while I tried to take as many steps as I could. One step at a time was how I tried to reach Junkyard, a trading outpost by Fundamental Lake. The flakes of snow nipped at my skin, melting in my boots, almost like an unwanted guest in a cabin. The land was full of what appeared to be ash from a Magear Explosion. The road was deserted, no living thing on it besides the occasional patrol of ONR (Oceanic National Republic) soldiers meeting in some obscure towns on the road. It made my partner, whose name was Hon Tex, uncomfortable. He had been from Olivia and was suspicious of anybody from the state. Yet we still continued on to our destination. He knew I could talk my way out of situation because we met during the Phony period. I could speak fluently in the many languages, and could easily fake my accent. On the way through we were stopped by the ONR. They were dressed in their dark, washed out grey uniforms. One walked up and demanded that we tell them where we were heading off too. I walked up and explained to them that we were simply bringing supplies to the city, we were just traders after all. “No one may enter the Town of Junkyard, nor any of the neighboring lake.” He quickly had the couple of other men surround us. I quickly grabbed my revolver and held it to my side.

“You bandits?” “By order, all equipment seized shall be confiscated and all traders being taken for interrogation.” he demanded with a somewhat crisp accent. “Look. I’ve traveled here from Flak, we’re heading towards Junkyard, we haven’t had much food and we are not interested in being cuffed.” I responded, though I didn’t have much to say. They did look equipped to handle a situation if things got bad, and it was clear they would use it. “We aren’t looking for trouble.” They pointed their rifles back to Hon, “Your friend doesn’t look like he is from here, does he.” “I believe the kaiser allowed travel of merchants in these lands, at least Oceanic travelers.” I replied sharply, not looking back towards Hon and keeping contact with the soldier. “Party doesn’t care about what the enemy says is ok.” he replied back sharply, looking at my friend and then back at me. That revealed something, these were not ONR soldiers, the patrols we were seeing were actually a part of one of the factions split off the army. “What breed are you?” “Breed? I’m an Angora, what is the matter?” I replied, but something was striking me, first it was just a little thought in the back of my head now it was in the front of my mind. The party he referred to become clear. “You’re Reizi?”

“What about the Pony?” The soldier stated, more frustrated. “He is…” The soldier struck me down and pointed a gun in my face, the other two walked closer to Hon. “He will answer.” he replied, gun still in my face. I looked over to Hon to see how he would reply. We both knew now this could mean life or death. He started to break a sweat. “Ya lova Olivian” He replied nervously and unbuckled himself from his wagon, and started to run away. He was shot and now lies frozen in the snow, and the rest of the patrol pointed their guns at me. “If he was from Olivia, where are you from?” he replied in spite, “I’m from Tolk.” I replied, slowly losing my confidence. “He speaks the accent” a patrol member replied, “Ask him a question.” he then replied. “Who is the runner up to the great, true leader ‘Folic Von Smit?’” he replied with contempt. These were Reizis, so their leader must be who the refer to as real Oceania, so I closed my eyes and relied… “Victors Benchine?” It grew silent for a while, then in response he looked over to his men and back. “With me cat.” he replied, and forced cuffs on my wrists. We continued, they forced me to drag my wagon though the deep snow off the road. Once we drew near their trench they blinded and gagged me, during this I felt the

hum of an engine and started to lose my balance. I was forced down, it got cold then warm again. I heard the slam of a door and I felt I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. I could call for help but it was hopeless. That’s where I lied for nearly an hour, yet it felt like an eternity. I then heard the sound of boots on metal again. The blindfold was removed and so was the gag. I looked up to what appeared to be a Reizi officer. Dark, near black, grey uniform and the symbol of their special forces. I was tied to a chair, my chains on the back as rope tied me tightly to the back end of the chair. The officer was a Unicorn, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a bright white coat. “I apologize about the inconvenience that we must’ve created,” he started to state as he began to pour wine for himself. “Some of the patrols are, restless. Please, feel welcome. The Führer respect all Oceanians.” I looked at him with confusion. “I do feel welcome tied up in this chair.” I looked around and looked back. I seemed to be in a metal room, small and not well lit. The smell of something burning, fresh blood, wine, and leather was in the air. “Where am I?” “I am sorry, I must believe you are very confused.” The officer stated, “You will not be the one asking the questions.” I felt my muscles start to tense and start to feel like they were being ripped apart. I looked at the unicorn and his horn had a faint light around the horn. “Please tell me, what is your Name?”

“Gülkich” I replied with as much effort as I could, and felt my body start to calm down, the pain going away. So was the light. “Gülkich? An Oceanic name; what is your surname?” “Surname?” I felt it again, the pain. A little greater this time. “I don’t know my surname!” I shouted.

“You don’t know your parents?

“My father died in the war, my mother was murdered.” I looked at him, “I cannot remember them. My sister had made us travel town to town, joining the war when she became 16.” “And who was your friend? The undesirable, unclean!” He asked, growing in a near anger. “Somebody who helped move our stuff.” I stated, “We meet at a bar in Flak, he was a refugee who came to trade.” “How did he come to our great nation?” he then stated, looked over to the door and looked back. The light grew stronger. I felt the pain get worse, I couldn’t move my body at all. “The tunnels.” “He is a spy?” He would ask again. “He could barely speak Oceanic. I had no suspicions.” I looked over to the ground and looked back. “We meet about a week ago, as I said in a bar in Flak. We agreed to split the

amount that we made. He wished to go through Junkyard and up to the Balti Sea.” “So what you are saying is that you had agreed to do something from a leech in Olivia, and that leech decided to go through enemy territory to what, get to the Balti Sea?” “I never said he was smart, that’s what I knew. Didn’t judge him, didn’t care. I just go town to town, any help is good help.” “Be careful, Mr. Gülkich. People are different than they seem, especially unclean ones.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” I replied. The pain went away, so did the red light around the officer’s horn. “You fight in the army?” He switched, flipping a knife in his hooves. “Yes, not for long. I was stationed here a few years back.” “Why leave?” he replied back. “I didn’t want to fight.” I stated. He looked back and then over to me again… “You got attacked?” “A few raids in my time, but I came out.” I looked back, “Came back sick but still, what can you ask for?” The officer started to look at me in a mood of complete intrigue, and he sat and leaned back in his chair. “You say sick?”

“Frozen Veins. The plague infested the trench like a cloud of gas.” I replied, struggling a little bit in my seat. “The great 4rth Imperium has had it a great priority of nutrition and medical staff.” He stated in a form of some kind of self important promotion. “For a cat in your position, it could lead to great reward. What did you do in the army?” “I helped in reconnaissance, and was a part of an engineering and communications company.” I looked at him, I was sure we wanted me to join in their ranks. I didn’t have much to say, and I didn’t want to join him. But saying that outright meant I could be shot. “Well, I must get going.” The officer announced. “I have a meeting with Mr. Hicklings.” He opened the door to the metal room we resided in, and a loud noise began to blare through the room. He looked back to me, still tied to the chair. He shouted “Oh, Mr.Gülkich! I’ll tell the guards to make sure you are less, restrained. I personally apologize about the situation you might of been put in during this meeting. I will ensure that the guards at least untie you from that chair and give you a proper meal.” the door closed and I could not hear anything outside. It was about an hour or two before somebody actually came in. He left the chains on my wrists but cut the rope which tied me to the chair. He also gave me some water, and a little bit of food which clearly

was just army rations. I thanked them, though a little hesitant, and he started back while the door closed and then locked. He leaned on the door and looked at me. It was an awkward time while I sat in that room. After 10 minutes I wasn’t hungry, so I left the food in the tin taking a few nibbles here and there. I looked up at the guard. “Where are we?” I asked the guard, and he looked at me. He wore a helmet that the inside was lined in some sorta fur. “Does it matter?” He replied, “Even if so why would I tell you?” “What do you think I can do?” I replied, “I’m chained on the ground with no real way out, no idea where we are, and no weapons.” “I still can’t tell you.” I looked down to the ground, somewhat in disappointment. “Well, that sucks I guess.” The room grew silent. “What is your name?” The guard chuckled, “Does it matter?” He replied again, this time jokingly. “Your name is pretty important.” I said, trying to imply a serious tone. “Well I guess I won’t be killed if I gave out my name if anything” He paused for a second, “Blish is the name, Trader.” “You know I’m a Trader?” I asked curiously. “It’s not hard to see, you are

captured along with a load of Food, Clothing, and Guns at the same time. No mention of a name, but again that doesn’t matter.” “You tend to say stuff doesn’t matter a lot.” I remarked, somewhat in a cocky manner. “I would say to shut up but yet again a little talk isn’t to bad of a premise.” I looked over at him, in a bit of confusion. “You are open to talk yet you don’t think anything matters?” “Ey, talk about the important stuff, not the trivial stuff” he replied back in a snarky voice, “But what can a guard and a POW say?” “Wait, but I’m not a POW. You said it earlier, I’m just simply a trader. I don’t care what side wins.” I replied back in a haste. “We all have sides Trader, all you have to do is look. You trade mostly with Oceania right? There is your side.” He replied back. “I don’t kill to win a war. At least, not anymore.” “Yet here you are talking to me of all people.” The guard replied. “But just because I’m he-” “Look at your wrists. You are chained. Do you really think you are anything but helpless?” The guard looked at me. “I’ve got the rifle, we have the firearms. You have nothing.” I stood up and headed towards the table, “You know I would much rather be in some bar or some inn

right now enjoying the spirits…” “And artillery shells?” “A life is a life, make it how you can” I replied with some validation. “A life so meaningless, directionless…” “Oi! You think I care?” I replied in haste, “The only person right now who I care about is me.” “I hear people like you all the time, thinking Anarchy and Selfishness is the only way to success.” “You aren’t gonna be the one to tell me how to think.” “Maybe I’m not, but many are gonna too. Hell, many probably already have.” “I helped fight this hopeless war, so I don’t think there is much I can do now.” “War is fought by the brave, not by cowards.” “I don’t care anymore.” I looked back at him, “It doesn’t matter, as you might say.” “Keep talking butter mittens.” He replied, chuckling to himself a little. Someone pounded on the door, and the noise echoed the room. Blish opened it to see who it was and I was shocked. Of course the Officer was there, but who gave me a surprise was the other one, Hurtz

Hicklings. Blish found himself leaving the room, in both a very formal and a very rapid way. The noise that I could only assume would have been outside the door blared until the metal door was shut. I quickly sat down in the seat, assuming that is what they wished me to do. Hickling demanded me to stand so I got back up from me seat, starting to shake a little bit. He stared me into the eye, not looking back to the officer he spoke in a near perfect Oceanic accent, however very dark, deep and grainy. “This is who you found trying to break the perimeter?” The officer looked at me and then stated “Ye-Yes Sir!” he started losing a bit of his voice and from the meeting we had, ferm formality and control. “South East by Normit Road.” “Do you work for the opposers?” Hickling asked. My blood pulsed with every word, somehow getting colder. “I was unaware of anything, I’m just selling to who buys.” I replied in a near quite tone. “Speak up.” Hickling replied, looking me dead in the eye. “I just sell the stuff I get. That’s all!” “We have had problems with some... spies... targeting members of the inner circle. So information on who might be supplying them would be important.”

“I have got no real information, I’m not a spy, however if I was I probably would not be in this conversation.” “Yet you were bringing weapons to a town which is against the Imperium?” “I sell weapons and supplies to who buys, and I do not care who they are or what they want. I care about two things in this world.” I replied, in looking him dead in the eye. “That would be?” “My protection and well being.” Hickling looked at the officer and then looked back at me. “If you mind I wish to show our guest something.” The officer looked at him in confusion. “And that would be sir?” “Bring him out to the observation deck.” The door was opened and I was lead down a hall, looking at the aircraft and the giant propeller until we got to a set of windows which say outside. We were on what appeared to be a floating airship, Hickling held my back with his paw, his claws cutting into my back. “If you cared only about your well being, then you being here in the safety of our ship means you can watch your assault of the town.” “Besides a warm welcoming place, no I don’t care.” A part lie but still, you become desensitized to these things as time would go on.

“Keep an eye on your guest.” Hickling stated, and stormed out of the room. I looked over towards the officer.

Urnest.”

“Well, Urn, I guess we stay here to watch an assault of a town.” I walked over towards the window. “The town “What is the point of this again?” seems more fortified than it would first seem.” Blish quickly went towards the door and started the guard it, the “What do you mean?” Urnest officer walked towards the window asked, looking at me then the town. and watched. “Look at the town, it’s clear it “Hickling has his orders, you was built for an assault, bombing, should know not to disobey them. or generalised support.” I looked at Even if you aren’t a part of our each of the little buildings. Each as army.” He looked over to us. “Even if built from toy brinks, a small scale though I do wish I was part of this battlefield. “They appear to have grand assault, my orders are made converted some of the old buildings clear.” like the church as some sort of field hospital. They have some heavy I looked down to see around artillery emplacements in the par…” three large platforms, suspended on their legs looking down. Though I Urnest looked at me, “Artillery saw many of these on the front line, emplacements? They were not firing they appeared to have more heavy upon us at all during the siege!” artillery modified to fire at a closer range. I looked at the tiny specks on “They need ammo I assume, or the ground, what I would assume to saving it for something.” I looked be men on the ground getting ready down and there appeared to be five. for a huge assault of the town from One had been aimed towards were we their hastily made trench. “I wish I were standing. “Now Urnest, what is had a drink or a few. But I am glad our approximate altitude?” I am not in there.” I stated, looking ... over towards Blish. “I bet that doesn’t matter, now does it?” Blish started to sweat a little, he looked physically and mentally strained. I looked over towards the officer who moved his focus from the town to myself. “Your name?” I asked. “Uh… My name?” The officer looked back to the town… “Call me

THE POOR FARMER Lucas Hall Ride away if you must Into the sunset then? Into the west or bust then. Go on then, ride away. Just let your hair down, You know I’ve always liked how it sways. Like golden rain upon the worn cotton That I bought for you in the market all those years ago, When things were simpler . I’ll go and soothe my nerves, With one of those big cigars you always hated, And I’ll drink until I’m sedated. Don’t worry about me, Even though you always told me I don’t know when to stop I’ll be sour for a while, but I’ll eventually come to the conclusion, That my fancy for you is no illusion. I’ll come to the conclusion that you deserve something, Something that’s a little better than what I can offer you. Maybe in another life I’ll find happiness, But you’ve prevented that for me this time around. I knew that as soon as you opened your mouth And I heard that little sound, Singing some song I’d never heard. But now I know what song that was Cause’ you never quite stopped singing it Even as you ride away I can faintly hear it. A song of longing, One that would come from the mouth of an angel Who couldn’t find their way back to heaven.

Robot by MJP She is bionic in body, mind, and soul, With webs of wire veins twisting and pulsing with sickeningly strong bursts of electricity around a central cardiac console. There are circuits where her heart should be that tirelessly translate her computer brain codes, Circuits that receive and amplify digital songs sent out by waves of mathematical sequences composed of glowing, red zeroes. All interpreted by an operating system deemed technologically flawless, One that is the shining product of white coat elixir and the dreams of a seventh grade, four-eyed genius. A Technologically flawless example of artificial intelligence however, cannot compute the complexities of the human mind. Love, hate, lust, and desire are induced by fired neurons and codes that were not included when her central circuitry was designed. But she was well programmed, and when fully charged, her inner electronics can replicate the adrenaline released when humans experience fear, Making up for the romantic emotions she lacks, but not erasing the fact that the bionic girl could short circuit with a single tear. With her bionic brains, the robot girl canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t help the fact that she isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t breathing, Just like she canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t help the fact that her heart beeps instead of beating.

While the cold winds blow in the night, And the trees sway in their hypnotic dance, And the leaves play by my feet, I continue to walk.

While The Cold Winds Blow in the Night

While the cold winds blow in the night, And the forest whispers in my ear Their woes and their prides, I cannot stay. I continue to walk. While the cold winds blow in the night, And the seas call my name Calling me back to them, Asking forgiveness and acceptance, I cannot go back. I continue to walk. While the cold winds blow in the night, Men, women, children alike, sleep in peaceful oblivion, Their minds and hearts hoping for lost dreams, I am not them. I continue to walk. But I pause. There was a time when I too, slept in peaceful oblivion, My mind and heart hoping for lost dreams,

He is Dead.

I cannot stay. I cannot go back. I am not them. They would never see me the same way. I continue to walk. Why can They be together? Why are They happy? Why am I not with them? Because, While the cold winds blow in the night, I continue to walk, My mind and heart chasing after lost dreams, A dream of someone. Someone to whisper my woes and my prides. Someone to ask forgiveness and acceptance. A dream ever urging me forward. While the cold winds blow in the night, I continue to walk. I am not them. I cannot stay. I am not them. I cannot go back. I am not them.

By John Hazlett

I am not them. While the cold winds blow in the night, I Am One. They Are All. I continue to walk.

Words by Toby the Cat

Words can twist, burn and bind- Learn to speak and you will find- That a sharpened word can make one cry- You may even start to lie. One must know that words hold power- They can inspire or make one cower. After all, Wars are fought with lives and gunsBut wars are won by those with silver tongues. Our minds are strong and can overcome- But a single word can leave you undone. I say give this warning for many reasons- I hope you remember for many seasons. Words are a weapon, Words are a breath. They heal or kill, Bring sorrow or joy. They are the calm, They are the storm. They hold great power, and any can wield it. You all can bring any change. All you need to do Is speak.

Anonymous

Dear sky,

That’s the wrong shade of blue. Just a touch brighter, please, that would be lovely. Paler at the horizon, then deeper towards the top - yes, just like that. Oh dear… Cloud, darling, you must make room for the sun, a bit of space just there… oh, wonderful. See how she lights up your edges? And the sky is so gracefully blue.

Yes, that’s it. Perfect.

TODAY (MEMORY) Anonymous

picking wild flowers on a rainy day clouds were gray no birds sang today

Some Things by

Some things change, Some things donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t. Love can grow, or it can die.

Friends come, and friends go. It can rain, or it can be light.

Some days are good, and some days are bad,

but there is always something to smile about.

The Day Drugs Took My Mother Rebakah Knarr

October 17th, 2015 is a day that I will always remember. It is the day that my heart was ripped out of my body; it is the day that makes me weak at the knees; and it is the day that should’ve been prevented. When I was in the fourth grade, I met a girl who would end up being one of the most important people in my life. Her mother used to invite me for sleepovers and dinners because my mother works nights. All throughout middle school this girl and I were incredibly close, basically inseparable. We would go to the mall, to the movies, to the park, jump around, and listen to music in her room. There were always these times when her mom would come up to her room to see us. She would start dancing and be silly because that was just how she was. She was the brightest and happiest soul that I had ever met. By the seventh grade people just assumed that we were sisters because you would never catch us apart. We might as well have been because her mom was my mom and my mom was hers. We had sleepovers every night, and there was not a single thing she did not know about me. During the 8th grade our interests started to differ and we started to drift apart, it actually killed me a lot to have my sister drift away as much as she did. However, we eventually came back together, in the 9th grade, on October 17th, 2015. The day mom died. I still remember my own mother calling me at 6 a.m. while I was getting ready for school to tell me that my new mom was admitted into the hospital earlier that morning. She was having breathing problems and something was wrong with her heart. I had run through that entire situation over a million times. The only good thing about it was that the last face my second mother got to see, was my own mother’s. Looking at her, telling her that she was alright and that it was okay, that everything was okay. The feeling that entered my body at

the moment I got that call was panic and despair. Panic because she was gone, I could never hug her again or talk to her again and I couldn’t have another chance to hear her say that she loved me. Despair because one of the most important figures in my life had left, for reasons I was not sure of, and I was alone. At least, that’s how I felt. The funeral was the part that killed me. I got an invitation from my old friend, via facebook, asking me to come to her mother’s funeral. I dressed up in the nicest black clothes that I could find and did my hair the best I could. No makeup though because there was no way I would be able to make it through the day without smearing it or crying it off. When I arrived at the funeral, I slowly got out of the car and made my way, hesitantly, into the funeral home. What I saw next was something I didn’t expect, the body of the mother that I loved, lying in this dull and boring box, surrounded by dull and boring flowers. I knew she was dead but I kept praying that she would open her beautiful eyes and look at me. She never did. I went up to go see her, and in my mind, said everything that I wanted to say to her. I told her that I loved her, told her that I would look after everyone for her, and I told her that I was going to be the best daughter ever, so that she would be proud of me and proud of my life. Saying goodbye to her was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. A few days later I got a text from my mom saying that they determined the cause of death. She had died of a drug overdose. I promised myself on that day that I would never go near drugs or alcohol or cigarettes, because I know that she would want the best for me. For me to end up living a better life than the one that she ended up living. Therefore, I believe that addictive substances can only cause destruction and pain in the lives of people and their families.

Featured Writers

Rebakah Knarr

Nick Sweet

“I guess I started writing because it let me be who I wanted to be. School and life in general is hard and so writing became a way for me to stop worrying about who wanted me to do what and just create. I liked how it was so easy to get lost in the things I was writing and focus on something so magical, for lack of a better word. Writing has really become everything to me.”

“I like to write because it is a way to get my thoughts out. I enjoy just writing whatever comes to mind and from there, I just expand on it. Sometimes it’s good, and others, not so great. But that’s the joy of writing. Finding what works and what doesn’t.”

Questions by Adam Bibalo

All roses have thorns, We all have ugly secrets. Why do we hide them? Everything must end Nothing can last forever So, why do we fear death?

Simon’s Journey Nick Sweet

Once upon a ruined dawn, a long long time ago There lived a hunter named Simon, who carried a crossbow He had a single mission, to leave his home And travel along the path to the forgotten dome Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite To the castle walked Simon, his hands as cold as ice He walked past the gargoyles, who lived in paradise He approached the big doors-- as red as blood It opened fast, with an enormous thud Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite Simon walked all through the halls, Looked up and down the shuttered walls Weaponry and darkness covered every surface The paintings stared at him with a hiss Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite

The hall ended all at once, a figure on the throne Simon slowly walked up and approached the great unknown He flashed his teeth and eyes of darkness, a cloak of black around With his desire to oppress he stood up with a pound Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite The chamber was dimly lit by a roaring fire The escalating situation quickly became dire The man of night lunged at Simon, with killing intention Simon jumped back, and threw a knife as intervention Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite A dense, great fog flowed in right away Simon knew that he had to pay Down a large hall, in the darkness he walked along Trying to keep himself very strong Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite All the sudden, from the darkened mist, A set of teeth flew at his head, a kiss And into his throat they sank

Simon fell to the ground--his mind blank Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite The man stood over his fallen prey, Looking at his newly slayed When he bent to down inspect the wound A wooden stake flew at his heart, leaving him doomed Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite Simon rose again and looked at the fallen man His withered skin, timely face and used lifespan He took a big breath and felt his neck The two blood spots, as if from a crow’s peck Trees and DaRkness All around CarefUl if you hear the sound ALwAys try to bring some light There’s always something that will bite Nowadays, Simon lives alone, a man of many talents He, a prisoner of himself, lives every day a gallant The only thing changed is his genome He now lives upon that throne

Little Bird By MJP Look at me with your yellow eyes, Bless me with your bittersweet smile, Tell me about your day, Forget the ravens for awhile. Sing to me your cardinal songs of sorrow, And Little Bird, Please... Let me fly with you tomorrow. We can touch the sky together, We can ride the wind, Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll be safe with me forever, Little Bird, Just let me in. I want to make you happy, I want to see you soar,

Little Bird I owe you this, Because with you, I’m not a sparrow anymore. You taught me to spread my wings, You showed me how to fly, So in return my Little Bird, I’ll catch every tear you cry. We can touch the sky together, We can ride the wind, You’ll be safe with me forever, Little Bird, Just let me in. Little Bird I love your yellow eyes, And the hint of sadness in your smile, Let me protect you Little Bird, From the ravens for awhile. Please look at me and tell me, without saying a word, You need only look at me, And I’ll know you love me, My Little Bird.

...

Rebakah

HATE

Knarr

Throughout life I’ve learned that if one wants to understand something, they must first accept it. I apply this to most situations in which I’ve been during my life; first, when my great aunt passed, and then when the mother of my close friend also was not around. But I just can't seem to accept or understand any of this. Hearing the news that I’ve heard (and in one day) would make anyone want to flip a table and curse at whatever they believe in. I mean, Stage 4 cancer, leukemia, and heart malfunctions. All things that have chosen to make themselves known in my life and all things I wish I could murder. I’ve been thinking about it all a lot, really, since I was told. It hit me like a brick, and since then there’s been a tornado of thoughts wreaking havoc in my mind. First, I was sad and asked my mom a lot of questions, just trying to find something to understand about it. I just didn’t and don’t know what to do. The anxiety of knowing that soon, three close members of my family are meant to die...and all I can do is sit in my tiny home and do nothing. I can’t even go see them! It just makes me want to throw numerous objects at whoever decided this is what was going to happen to them. Papa didn’t do anything; he drove trucks his entire life, got married to Nana, had mom and my two aunts.He’s humble and kind and has a fluffy beard. Uncle Paul didn’t do anything either; he goes to the gym and his job and loves his wife and their multiple cats. Then my father...I mean yeah he gets mad sometimes, but he cares about us and takes care of us and I don’t want him to die. They’re three of the best men in my life and they’re arguably innocent. What could they have done? Who decided to curse them with incurable pain? Curse us with the loss of them. Who looks upon an innocent family and decides to throw boulders of suffering at them? Honestly, it’s just cruel. But at the end of the day, I must remember to search my mind for the happiest of memories and move on with my day. This isn’t going away.

The

G i rl and the

God

Cameron Reilly-Steele 34

The restaurant was full of very angry people. Old men in leather jackets and boys in work uniforms... not that the difference between them seemed to be the cause of anything that had been happening. All of them were just punching and kicking each other. Glasses were thrown across the room, shattering against the wall. People were thrown over the counter and into the stools around it. Most of the tables had been knocked over, and Isabelle was pretty sure that the red on the floor wasn’t spilled ketchup. But whatever the reason they had started fighting, they still seemed to stick to good lessons. Boys don’t hit girls, and none of the men came over to grab Isabelle’s table--not that they tried to remove her from the scene, though, either. Then again, she observed, a few older girls were wearing work uniforms too, and they were hitting and getting hit with the rest of them. So maybe these boys did hit girls. Or maybe they just didn’t hit 10 year-old girls. Isabelle nodded to herself, confident in that answer. She still couldn’t figure out why they had started fighting though. It was...what was the word mommy used? It started with a ‘k’ she was sure. The ck sound. It meant when people were doing

things without a reason to. When they do things that didn’t help them or anyone else.

YouTube videos did when Isabelle hit the pause button.

Ckaos. That was it. She nodded again, proud of herself.

She looked around, soon finding that the rest of the people in the restaurant were paused too.

Being around ckaos situations had felt good to her ever since she was born. In fact, she could even predict when ckaos was going to happen. That’s what she had done here. Whenever she was hungry, she could find them.

A man stepped through the door that mommy had left open. His face was ghostly white, and his ears were pointed like a Christmas elf. When he looked at Isabelle, his eyes widened before returning to their normal size.

Mommy wouldn’t get her a soft pretzel on the other side of the mall, so she came here.

He pressed his suit down with his hands before sitting down across from her, his eyes watching mommy very closely before turning his attention to Isabelle.

As she sat there watching the people fighting, she could feel her tummy filling up. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was munching on a tasty pretzel with ice cream on it... “Izzy! What are you doing here?!”

“So you are the one that’s been causing me so many problems,” he said, looking her up and down, “I must say, I didn’t expect you to be so young.”

Mommy’s voice made her open her eyes. When she did, she could see that the people around her were getting less angry. Some of them were even picking things up.

“Hey,” Isabelle protested, “I’m ten years old. I’m a big kid.”

“I was hungry.”

A long time passed where Isabelle didn’t know what to say. She looked at the people who were frozen and then back to the man.

“That does not mean you run off without me!” She knelt down in front of Isabelle. “You scared mommy half to death!”

He held out his palm to her. “Yes, yes, of course, what was I thinking?”

“I’m sorry, mommy.”

“I like your hair,” she told him. It was slicked back and jet black, just like one of her favorite beauty gurus.

But mommy didn’t say anything back. She had stopped. She was frozen. She looked like the people in

He touched it with a small smile. “Thank you.” He looked down at the table with a sigh and then craned

his neck back to look at the ceiling. Finally, his eyes came back to look at Isabelle. “Look, Isabelle, I don’t want to hurt you. You seem like a perfectly nice little girl.”

together. “I need it. I’m like you. I feed on it.”

“I’m a big kid!”

“Because, when I feed on chaos, it lets me do amazing things! That’s how I did all this!” He gestured to the room a third time, with a grand sweep of his arms. He was smiling wide, as if trying to excite her. When she didn’t respond, he continued.

He nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. You seem like a perfectly nice big kid. But I’m going to have to ask you to stop using your powers.” “Powers?” She asked, “What powers?” “The thing that feeds you when you come to situations like this,” he gestured towards the people that had been fighting, “I need you to stop feeding with it.”

“Why don’t you just eat something else?”

“I need you to stop eating it so that I can have some. We can make a deal if you want. We can decide how much each of us gets.” Isabelle was still deep in thought.

Mommy pulled Isabelle from the chair, wrapping her arms around her as if to keep the man from touching her. “Who are you? What are you doing sitting with my daughter?” Isabelle tugged on mommy’s arm. “It’s okay, mommy, he didn’t bring me here. We were just talking about food.” He nodded, standing from the chair. “I don’t want to hurt you either, “ Isabelle said, looking into the man’s eyes, “but you’re making people be mean to each other, and that’s not nice. I won’t let you do it anymore.”

“Because this,” he gestured again, “is kind of my job. You see, I’m in charge of making sure people act like this.”

“Maybe I could take away your powers,” he offered, “then you wouldn’t be able to do it. No one would have to know. I could even erase your memory so you don’t miss them! You’d be perfectly normal and there would be no problem.”

He bit his lip, looked between her and mommy, and nodded. “Very well then.”

“Act ckaosy?”

“Isabelle?”

“Chaotic would be the correct word.”

“So if we’re the same and you get power from eating ckaos...that means I do too, right?”

“You have made a foolish challenge, my heir apparent. I am Loki of the Nine Realms, brother of Odin, God of Mischief, and this. Means. War.”

“Why?”

“Ckaotic?” He nodded. “Yes.” Another long silence. “So can I get you to stop?” “Why don’t you get a new job?” “I can’t, really,” He clasped his hands

His lips didn’t move, and mommy couldn’t hear it, but he spoke in Isabelle’s ear.

The man looked taken aback, shocked at her response. “Well, you see, I’m not sure-” Suddenly, at Isabelle’s behest, the world snapped back into motion. Mommy grabbed Isabelle before turning back and seeing the man, who was staring at her, eyes wide with fear.

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