Velocity

V E L O C I T Y

VELOCITY A Literary Journal by Penn State Lehigh Valley

Vol. 4 Spring 2013

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Table of Contents

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The Flip Side Justin Mungro

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Linocut Print Eva Trusz

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Hungry Beaver Molly Branton

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Winter Deidre Rodriguez

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A Snail Andrew Bloodnick

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Brave Heart Shannon Sanchez

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Tattoos Haiku Sara Faust

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Two Sides Anyssa Grayer

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Deep Blue Mystery Gerald Kroboth

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Bags Jillian Glasgow

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Dollar Menu Dominique Wilson

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Pine Tree Justin Mungro

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Photograph Jacqueline Youngers

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The Point Justin Mungro

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Slice of Vinyl Andrew Bloodnick

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Bronze, Nickel, Silver, Hematite Justin Desh

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The Poem without a Title Rachel Labelle

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In the Mirror Teshanna Adams

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Revealed Jillian Glasgow

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Blue Water Skyler Vassallo

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Tattoos Sara Faust

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Linocut Print Omar Makhoul

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The Angel on the Corner Megan Pustaver

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Eyes Jillian Glasgow

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Linocut Print Eva Trusz

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Sparks Shannon Sanchez

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Digital Photograph Austin Benner

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Stencil print Ian Posh

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She Teshanna Adams

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Alive Cazembe Dwyer

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Digital Photograph Erisha Siddiqui

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The Trail Molly Branton

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Linocut Print Marissa Krebs

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A Glance into a Musician’s Mind Gerald Kroboth

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Permanent Marker on Paper Lennette Benzo

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Lone Shelby Carr

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Message not Sent Will Sampson

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Conducting the Experiment Sarita Rodriguez

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Photograph Kaitlyn Kasmer

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Jillian Glasgow from Professor Eric Chiles’ Eng 050 class and Shelby Carr from Dr. Cantalupo’s English 030 class are the winners of the 2013 Penn State Lehigh Valley creative writing contest for poetry and fiction.

ATTENTION: The QR codes found throughout the magazine can be scanned with your smartphone to take you to extra web content such as YouTube videos showcasing the poetry. Also, be sure to find us on the web at lv.psu.edu. Go to the Campus Publications page for a web version of the magazine with extra stories, poetry, and more!

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The Flip Side Justin Mungro

June 29 As I opened my eyes, I was once again overcome by sadness, for the realization that I was still alone began to set in. I sat up in bed and reached for a bottle of Everclear that stood on my night stand and just finished what was left. Usually I would be more conscious of drinking in the morning but I just didn’t care anymore; there was nothing left. I dropped the empty bottle on the floor; it made no noise though, and tried my best to get out of my bed. As I stood up, I was surprised my back didn’t ache; ever since everything went to Hell I just haven’t been feeling pain anymore. I slowly made my way to my bathroom and just looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe how my skin went from tan to pale; I almost looked like a ghost, it must be the all the alcohol. I couldn’t take the image anymore. I left the bathroom and made my way to the kitchen, I needed a drink. I didn’t even realize that I was stepping on empty beer cans on the floor with my bare feet.

Once I reached the kitchen I made my way toward the cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey. I sat at the kitchen table, opened the bottle and started drinking until the bottle was half empty. I never use to drink in the morning but ever since everything changed I stopped caring. I looked around my small crappy apartment, just the sight of it made me even more depressed; I finished the rest of the bottle. I stood up and walked over to the front door and opened it, I stood peering into the hall for a couple minutes then I slammed the door. I then looked over at my desk and saw a picture of me and my daughter Ashley; I felt my eyes start to water. If only her mother and I never got divorced, we could have been one happy family. I walked over and picked up the frame. I was glad she graduated from college. Too bad she wasn’t here anymore. Too bad no one was here anymore. I sat the frame back down and made my way to the small apartment window and stared out at the world that once was.

Every time I looked out of the window, the only thing I could think of was that I was in a Stephen King novel. One minute there was life, and next minute there was nothing. Nothing except me. It makes no sense, no sense at all. I just woke up and everyone was gone. I would have explored outside of the city but it was surrounded by desert. How New York City got surrounded by desert, I have no clue. All I knew is that it’s been three days and I was probably the last man in the world. Knock, Knock, Knock! I quickly looked at my door, confused and scared.

Who was at my door?

I froze not knowing what to do. Should I open the door? Bang, Bang, Bang! The eerie knocks now were angry bangs, no way in hell I was opening the door now. The door knob started to jiggle and it sounded as if someone was trying to pick the lock. What should I do! What should I do, I thought to myself as I started to panic.

All of a sudden the door lock clicked and the door slowly opened and I was frozen with fear. The door fully opened but there was no one in sight. I slowly approached the door and peered into the hallway. There was nothing, no sight of anybody or anything. Creeped out, I slammed the door close and quickly locked it. Simultaneously, the picture of me and my daughter fell to the ground as the glass frame shattered. I quickly ran over to the save the picture. It was the only thing I had left of my daughter. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. The door shook violently as the banging continued and I backed up scared for my life with my daughter’s picture secured in my hand. The lock turned again and the door flew opened but there was still nothing. I stared, stared until something appeared, but nothing did.

I continued to stare, continued to watch the doorway, watched hoping for someone to enter and tell me I’m a part of some evil twisted prank. But no one did, I was still the only person around, but how did my door open by itself? I stood in the doorway quietly, hoping for something to appear, I didn’t want to be alone anymore. All of the sudden, my desk drawer opened as if someone was going through it. I watched as papers slowly seem to moved and then the drawer closed. There was a presence in the room, I could feel it and it felt sad. I continued to watch so I could see what else this thing was looking for; I watched as it opened all of my kitchen cabinets and my refrigerator, exposing every single alcoholic beverage I had. I don’t even know why there’s so much alcohol in here, I don’t even drink that much.

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Whatever was in my apartment then entered my room, and I followed. I wanted to know what it was looking for. It kicked the beer bottles on the ground and made its way to the night stand and opened the drawer.

It continued to go through the drawer until it found something. It was a picture. It held the torn family picture in the air. Is it trying to tell me something? “What do you want, why are you here,” I yelled as I started to tear up. The other half of the torn picture suddenly appeared. I suddenly knew what this thing was. It was my daughter; she was the only one who had the other half of that picture, a picture of me, her and her mother. The picture suddenly vanished and I couldn’t help but to cry and shout “Ashley!” I wanted her back. Even though I couldn’t see her I knew she was there; I didn’t want to be alone anymore. The front door closed as I was still in my bedroom and I knew she was gone. I guess she just wanted the picture of her mom and dad. Why would a ghost want a picture? I don’t know, maybe for the memories.

I walked into the kitchen and looked at the liquor filled cabinets, I usually don’t drink but I needed a couple shots, so I grabbed a bottle of rum and headed back to my room. I sat on my bed and started to tear again. I’ve always been an emotional person, and that’s why I probably drink so much. I took a gulp of the bottle. Maybe if I didn’t drink so much I would still be with my wife and still have my job. I took another chug of the bottle. This still doesn’t explain what happened the world. Why has everyone just disappeared? I put the bottle of rum on my night stand. I hated the taste of alcohol. I laid my head on my pillow and tried to put my mind at ease; there was no point though. There was nothing left. I grabbed the bottle and took a sip. I don’t know why this is happening, I wish my daughter would come back and take me with her, I should just kill myself so I could be with her on the other side. I sat the empty bottle back on the night stand. I could already tell that alcohol would be the death of me. I closed my eyes and thought about life before now and what I was doing before everything went to Hell.

June 26 “Oh Lalalalalalala,” I emptied the can of beer. “Ugh why are these fucking cans so small?” I threw the can to the ground and stomped on it. I stood up and made my way past all the crushed cans on my bedroom floor and into the kitchen. I opened every cabinet in search of something to drink, but there was nothing. I even looked in the refrigerator and there was still nothing. I slammed the refrigerator in frustration. “Oh well I don’t need any more beer.” I was already drunk. I walked over by the front door when the picture of my daughter and I caught my eye. I picked it up. I miss my family. I wish I never got a divorce. I sat the picture back down. “Ugh I need a drink.”

I grabbed my car keys and made my way outside my shitty apartment. “Maybe I should walk to the liquor store…

Nah I’m good enough to drive.” I walked over to my car and put my keys in the door lock. I would have been mad that I scratched the paint, but I hate this fucking car. I continued to get in and start the engine. “Off to get more booze.”

June 29 Knock, Knock, Knock! Bang Bang Bang!

“Damn Mike why you banging on the door, there’s nobody home”, I shouted.

“Oh I’m sorry Ashley, I’m just use to knocking on doors”, Mike said jokingly I loved Mike but I swear he can act so stupid. I pulled the keys out my pocket and unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

“I’ll wait out here Ash,” Mike said sincerely.

“Alright, I’ll make it quick I just have to get something real quick.” I walked into the apartment and couldn’t help but cry. It was so disgusting. Empty beer cans on the floor and empty liquor bottles on the table. It was a shame. I suddenly caught a glimpse of a picture that sat on my father’s desk. It was of me and my dad. I started to cry when all of the sudden the front door slammed shut. I dropped the picture. Then all of the sudden Mike started banging, so I opened the door.

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“What the Hell Mike?” I yelled. “Why are you slamming doors?”

“What? It wasn’t me, I swear! It just closed and I started to bang because the door was locked and I thought someone jump you or something,” Mike intensely pleaded his innocence.

“Then who closed the door?” I furiously asked.

“I don’t know”, Mike replied dumbfound. I ignored his ignorance and went to pick the broken picture up from the ground. “Where, where’s the picture?” I looked around confused at the shattered glass.

“What picture?” Mike asked.

I continued to look all over the floor for the picture but there was no sight of it. I didn’t have time for it. I was more interested in something else. I opened up the desk drawers and looked through all through the papers, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

“Wow look at the cans all on the floor and table. this place is a mess,” Mike said as he entered.

I gave him a dirty stare, “What did you expect? My father is probably the biggest alcoholic on Earth.” I then marched into the kitchen and opened up all the cabinets. “I’m sure there’s nothing but fucking alcohol in here,” I shouted. There wasn’t. I even went to open the refrigerator, but there was still none. “He probably drank it all,” I shouted once again.

“I’ll wait outside and give you some space,” Mike said as he left.

I loved my father but I hated his drinking problem. I never saw him the same way after he hit my mother.

Even though I hated the idea of divorce, I knew she had to do what she had to do because he was just getting worse.

I made my way to my dad’s bedroom and was once again met by empty beer cans on the floor, “Damn dad… Why couldn’t you just get help?” I shouted as I kicked the cans on the floor. I made my way to his dresser and opened the drawer and searched. Searched until I came across what I was looking for. The picture was torn in half, but I had the other half. I took it out of my pocket and connected the two pieces. It was the last family picture we ever took before dad changed. I started to cry. I put the two pieces into my pocket and made my way towards the door. As I stood in the doorway I looked back at everything.

“You shouldn’t have drove dad… You shouldn’t have drove,” I repeated as I closed the door behind me.

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Linocut Print, Intro to Printmaking: ART 040 Eva Trusz

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Hungry Beaver

Tattoos Haiku

Peanut shells bobbing

Tattoos on my skin

We point and laugh on the dock

Representations of him

Beaver is snacking

Forever scarred

Molly Branton

Sara Faust

A Snail

Deep Blue Mystery

A snail is simple

Something swims past me

Where it chooses to go

I jump as I gasp for air

So does its home

Jellyfish or shark?

Andrew Bloodnick

Winter

Gerald Kroboth

Two Sides

Deidre Rodriguez

Anyssa Grayer

Breeze brushes my pale face

There are two sides to

Crystal flakes float to the sidewalk

Every story you just need

Shivering down my spine

To find the right one

Brave Heart

Bags

Shannon Sanchez

Jillian Glasgow

Bright green eyes glowing

Bags lining my arms

Along with shining brown skin

Clothes flowing over the sides

Within the camo

Daddy’s wallet: Empty

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Dollar Menu

Dominique Wilson It was in and about McDonalds

What was Ronald to do?

When the French fries were-a-frying’

Leave Big Mac there to rot?

That Ronald of the McDonalds

It almost seemed so impossible

Discovered his lover was lying’

When she was expecting a tot

After a day of flipping’ and cooking’

Whopper Jr. he’d be called

He went home to rest his feet

Ron knew it wasn’t theirs

Not knowing that upon arriving

For Ronald had not gotten laid

He’d find something more discreet

In as well as 5 years

He never saw it coming

On his fifth birthday

It never crossed his mind

It would be his vengeance

That Big Mac and the Whopper

He hoped that in some way

Would be doing the bump and grind

He’d declare his independence

Burger King had warned him

He couldn’t live like this anymore

Wendys always said

In Big Mac’s web of lies

That one day you’ll catch Big Mac

Tonight would be the night

And Whopper in your bed

He’d have a Whopper Jr. with fries.

Mac rose up as Ron busted in Her buns so firm and perky While Whopper made it out the door Before he got a beef jerky

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Pine Tree

Justin Mungro It Mimics A Pyramid The Pine Tree Stands Tall With Green Leaves And All Providing an Abundance Of Shade That’s Always Full Of Life Even in the Midst Of Winter When Green Turns Into White

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Photograph, Intro to Photography: PHOTO 100 Jacqueline Youngers

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The Point

Justin Mungro What’s The Point If no one cares?

What’s The Point If no one listens?

What’s The Point?

The only point needed Is that You Care!

You Dream!

You Succeed!

You Live!

Because What’s The Point If you’re living for others And not yourself!

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Slice of Vinyl

Andrew Bloodnick A vinyl record is like a knife The needle drops, it starts to play Sound enters the ears like a newborn’s cry As the song goes on, so does life With age the sound becomes uneasy Years of abuse make scratches and scars Then crackling leads to sickness And turns to silent death

Bronze, Nickel, Silver, Hematite, Intro to Metalwork: ART 107 Justin Desh

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The Poem without a Title Rachel Labelle

I just keep staring at this blank computer page, I have no words to fill the screen.

There are thousands of thoughts filling my head, But I keep them in there just for me.

I don’t know how to express my thoughts, The words don’t seem to make it From my brain to these keys.

So I’ll just leave this page blank for now.

Control+A, Delete.

In the Mirror Teshanna Adams

So there she sat gazing at herself in the mirror Hot steamy bitter tears down her cheeks Staring at her reflection An Armageddon of the mind One side is saying she is beautiful The next is constantly screaming and bashing her name calling her ugly and worthless Insecurities built up over time eventually come to light Nagging & pulling at her esteem Like a fiery blood thirsty dragon yearning for its prey Negative thoughts outweigh her positive attributes Wanting the atrocities in her mind to come to a complete halt She is tired of trying tired of fighting Battling with her soul She is sinking deeper and deeper into this relentless pain and sorrow Silently crying out loud, waiting for that someone to save her from herself

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Revealed

Jillian Glasgow Which way is up Which way is down How do I smile?

Why do I frown?

I have tons of friends Yet I feel alone But I am an actress— My problems aren’t known

Tattoos

Sara Faust Anger arose one night, After another a long and meaningless fight.

I fled the house on an unknown mission;

this was just the beginning.

My body began a blank canvas.

Then I passed a little shop, and decided I should stop.

Blue Water

Skyler Vassallo Coursing Tides Over a sea of blue water

Crashing Waves Against a wall of dark earth

Retracting Currents Controlled by the white moon

Relaxing Oceans Occupied by great blue fish

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He drew a design from my heart, not just an ordinary piece of art.

He was drawling for an hour; Used every ounce of his talent.

Finally the needle pierced my skin, and all of the pain ran thin.

I am no longer addicted to you, but rather these meaningful tattoos.

Linocut Print, Intro to Printmaking: ART 040 Omar Makhoul

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The Angel on the Corner Megan Pustaver

The bitter winter air whipped across my face as I made my way back to the car. Every store was jam packed with panicking customers who were all making their last few purchases before the winter storm. Fortunately for me, I beat the crowd by forcing myself out of bed to make it to Target right at opening time. But, it didn’t take long for the crowd to run pass me and rush into the grocery department. I successfully filled my shopping cart enough before the stampede to feed my always hungry husband and kids.

Constant shivers continued to take over my body as I waited for my car to warm up. I could feel my car shift a little with the brisk wind picking up outside. My phone rings; it’s my husband. “I really hope you’re on your way home,” my worried husband says. My car finally warmed up after about ten minutes. “I’m about to drive out of the parking lot now. I’ll be home soon and I’ll drive safe.”

Ice was already starting to cover the roads and I slid a bit making my way down the main street. I watched as my cars temperature continued to drop from 15 to 13 degrees. “My goodness this is gettin’ bad. “ I mumbled to myself. An alert came on the radio reporting that there were already three car accidents in the area and for everyone to stay inside. I only had fifteen minutes to go--or possibly more with how slow I was driving.

As I finally drove down my exit, I was distracted by what looked like a pile of blankets sitting on the corner of the street. I slowed my car a little as I approached the pile, only to realize that there was a person inside—an elderly woman to be exact. She was huddled inside her torn moth-eaten blankets and I could only see her eyes. They were closed and even from a distance I could see her body violently shaking. Tucked in the front of her blankets was a sign, but I couldn’t make out what it said from the car. I had to stop and see...

“Ma’am… excuse me, ma’am?” I yelled stumbling towards her. My feet crunched in the snow as I confronted her. Her eyes opened slowly and she stared at the ground. “Hey,” I forced my freezing body to lean towards hers to try to make eye contact. She looked up from her blankets and didn’t say a word... but I was instantly mesmerized by her eyes.

I’ve never seen such blue eyes in my life. She was silent, but her eyes were so loud to me. They were so powerful, yet so tired. “Ma’am... can I help you?” I began to shiver harder as the wind started to pick up. Everything but her eyes were still covered, but I looked down and noticed her nudging her sign through the blanket. The sign simply said, “Proverbs 19:17.”

-------------------------------------Next thing I knew, I had a stranger in my car. What am I doing? What’s my husband going to think about this?

I’m out of my mind. Hundreds of questions whirled through my head and I started the car back up. I looked at my phone... eight missed calls from my husband. “Hey... hey honey: yes I’m fine, just had to...” I looked over at the thawing woman who was probably too frozen to notice my phone call, “I’ll just be home soon. Traffic is backed up,” I lied, “But, I’ll be there in ten.” I hung up and sighed. How am I going to bring this woman into my home? She could be a thief for all I know! But, I couldn’t leave her there to freeze; she’s so fragile.

She sat there as still as a rock for most of the ride and I hoped she was still breathing. I heard her let out a giant sigh when I turned into my neighborhood and she started to adjust herself. Surprisingly, she didn’t smell that bad. The smell reminded me of how my grandmother’s attic smelled, bearable but still odd. I slowly made my way through the neighborhood and quickly tried to think of the right thing to say. Before I could even get a word out, she spoke up and said, “You are a blessing from God.” Her voice cracked with each word, but there was so much sincere and love in her tone. I still couldn’t think of what to say other than a quick “thank you.”

We approached my house and I saw the curtains shift in the front window. My daughter, Parker, waved in excitement and mouthed “Mommy’s home! Mommy’s home!” I smiled at her then looked over at the woman who now had her face uncovered. She was smiling at Parker, too. “That’s my youngest, Parker. I also have a son.” I said to the woman, she turned and looked at me. I studied her face a little and noticed how it consisted of only a few wrinkles,

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mainly around her weary eyes. She seemed to have taken care of her skin and had a plain but pretty face. She just sat there and waited for my direction. “I want to help you, ma’am. I will be honest, I don’t really know what to say, but you are welcome in our home.” I said and she forced a grin. Her lips and face were dry. It looked like it was painful for her to smile.

My husband stood at the door and stared at me confused. “I’ll explain everything to my husband, don’t you worry.” I left her sitting in the vehicle and ran to the front door. “Honey... this is going to sound crazy. But, I couldn’t leave this woman on the street.” I quickly said. I wanted to go back to the car and bring her inside. “Wait, wait, you brought home a complete stranger? Babe, you don’t even know what she might do— or have for that matter!”

He started to argue, and as I predicted, thought I was crazy. “I know that but, you had to have seen her out there!

Please, I know how it sounds, but I just want to help her. Especially with this storm coming in.

” I turned around and noticed the storm starting to pick up. I didn’t wait for my husband to respond and ran back out to the car. “Ok, everything is fine. Just come inside. It’s getting bad out here.” I helped her out of the car and it took a while to make it back into the house. She could barely walk and I had my arm wrapped around hers the entire way. We walked passed my husband who was still trying to understand what was going on. I could hear Parker’s little legs scurrying across the ground towards me as I helped the woman sit on the couch. Parker ran and wrapped her little arms around my leg, then looked over at the woman. My son, Jackson, entered the room and stood next to my husband. We all just stood there and stared at the woman. All she did was stare back.

I spoke up, “Everyone, we have a guest staying with us for a little,” I turned and looked at my husband and Jackson who still had their eyes glued to the woman. “Nana?” Parker said turning her little head to the side. She was still learning how to talk and thought this woman was her grandmother. “No sweetie, not Nana, this is a friend.” I said picking her up. I turned to my husband and Jackson and finally got their attention, “Will you please bring in the groceries? It’s time to prepare dinner.”

My family gathered around me as I cooked dinner while the poor woman sat alone in our living room.

“Mom, does she speak?” Jackson asked loudly and I put my hand over his mouth. “She probably won’t say much,” I whispered, “who knows how long she’s been on the streets.” Jackson just shook his head and went to sit at the table.

“How long will she be staying? And where will she sleep?” my husband asked still in disbelief. I turned from the stove to face him and crossed my arms. He knew exactly what that meant: give me my way. He put up his hands and said, “Ok, fine. I’ll trust you with this. “ I smiled at him and didn’t have to say a word. Parker waddled back into the kitchen and was carrying the woman’s sign. “What is this?” my husband asked reaching for the sign, but Parker refused to give it up. “The woman was holding it when I found her. It’s some Bible verse. Parker, why did you take that from her?” I walked out of the kitchen and looked into the living room. The woman was sound asleep and wrapped back in her blankets. We had the fireplace going and I’m sure it’s the most comfort she’s felt in... well, who knows how long.

Dinner was ready and my family was sitting at the table anxious to dig in. I lightly nudged the woman to wake her, “Ma’am, would you like something to eat?” She looked into my eyes and smiled. I took that as a yes. I lead her to the dinner table and let her sit by me. Her eyes glowed as she stared at her dinner plate covered in pasta and salad. “Let us say grace,” my husband said and everyone put their heads down, including the woman. “Lord, we thank you for this wonderful meal my wife prepared and for bringing us together,” he paused, “and for our new friend. Amen.” The woman looked up and smiled at my husband. He smiled back a little then we all began to eat.

The woman did not hesitate to eat and cleared her plate quicker than my husband and son— which I thought was impossible. I offered her more, but she was satisfied. She sat there quietly as we all finished our dinner. “So ma’am, do you have a name?” my husband attempted to engage in a conversation. The woman said nothing and only shook her head. My husband lifted his eyebrow and looked at me. “If there’s anything you would like to talk about, just know you are welcome to talk with my husband and me.” I shrugged my shoulders at him and began taking the dishes to the sink.

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The woman and I were the last two at the dinner table. The lights began to flicker a little with the strong winds and ice outside. “Can you believe this weather? And to think we might lose power! I wish it wasn’t so bad out.

I can’t miss another episode of the Big Bang Theory!” I think I talked her ears off— more complained, actually— but, she didn’t stop listening. “Oh, and this whole week I’ve had to do so much running around with work and taking my son to football. Then Parker was sick, so I had to find time to get her to the doctor.. Not to mention all the bills that just rolled in,” I nagged. Before I could continue on my rant about life and the weather, she looked at me with her crystal like eyes and softly said, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. That is Philippians 4:6, my friend.”

I hushed myself and took in what she quoted. Who am I to sit in front of this woman and complain about how “terrible” my week was, when she hasn’t even had a place to lay her head? I looked into her eyes and even though she was exhausted, they were just as powerful as they were this morning. There was something about them that I couldn’t figure out. They were peaceful and bright and I felt at ease. I took in a deep breath and was thankful for everything I had, including meeting her.

I covered the couch with a soft bed sheet and gave her two pillows. I found two old blankets in the closet that were pretty thick and folded them by the couch. “Would you like to use the shower before going to bed? You’re more than welcome to.” I asked. She shook her head and went straight for the couch. “Well, if you need to use the bathroom, it’s the first door to the right. Sleep well, ma’am.” I smiled at her. She was already laying down and dozing off. I gave her one last look before turning the corner and shutting off the lights.

-----------------------------------What a day is has been, I thought to myself. The clock read 2:30 am, and I was barely even tired. There were too many thoughts going through my head; I don’t see how my husband fell asleep so fast. Her sign was sitting on top of our dresser and I stared at it wondering what the Bible verse could be. I slipped out of bed and grabbed my laptop. I searched for Proverbs 19:17 and it said, “Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed.” It was exactly what I imagined it would say. But it was a beautiful verse. Another thought I couldn’t get rid of were her eyes: what was it about them? How could a fragile and worn out woman have eyes like those? They were brighter than the sky, luminous and energetic. They weren’t normal. I wondered why my family didn’t take notice to them. Only I was astonished by them. Perhaps she was blessed with incredible eyes. I had no idea. I finally wore myself out thinking and fell fast asleep.

Although I might have slept for five hours, I was first to wake up. “The woman—” I whispered and I hurried out of bed. I turned the corner of the hallway and found an empty couch. The pillows were gone along with the blankets and sheet. Did she take the bedding and leave? I honestly wouldn’t have cared, they were old anyways. But, still, I at least wanted to say good-bye. I walked to the couch and noticed a small note with my name neatly written on the front. The note was only four words and it said, “Expect a blessing unexpectedly.” Tear started to well up and my heart began to race. What could this mean? Where did she go? Suddenly, I was startled by a knock at the front door.

Slowly, I approached the door with the note still in my hand. I stood in front of the door, still in awe of what I had found and my mind was spinning in circles. A tall young woman with long blonde hair stood there holding an envelope. “Good morning! I believe this is for you?” she lifted it to my face. “I...uh... what is it?” She smiled big and laughed, “Well, there’s only one way to find out! Have a blessed day.” with that her eyes met mine. They were so blue, just as bright as the woman on the street. She gracefully walked away without saying anything more. I was anxious to see what was inside of the envelope. I found my husband sitting at the kitchen table and I sat next to him. “What you got there?” I looked at him and couldn’t think of what to say. I opened it and he watched. Inside there was another note and it said, “You took me in when I was in need. You allowed me to rest. Let you and your family be blessed.” Attached to the little note was a check... for half a million dollars.

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Eyes

Jillian Glasgow Window to the soul or pool of deceit Round and welcoming or slender and sly I’ll know which when our eyes meet Will you be faithful or will you cheat Do you speak honestly or do you lie Window to the soul or pool of deceit My heart jumps when we pass on the street Will we fail and fall or flourish and fly I’ll know which when our eyes meet You kept your secrets locked up nice and neat Falling in love, to your every word I comply

Linocut Print Intro to Printmaking: Art 040 Eva Trusz

Window to the soul or pool of deceit Do you boom with anger or sing songs so sweet That they make my knees buckle and lift me high I’ll know which when our eyes meet Knock me down, you’ve got me beat Now, exposed, your intent can’t be denied

Sparks

Shannon Sanchez

He glows in the night like a fire fly Twinkles like a star in a dark sky Gives off an aura of happiness

Window to the soul or pool of deceit

Passes love to me with just a kiss

I’ll know which when our eyes meet

Oh how charming He gives me everything I need Everything I want He is my good side My best friend My other half…

21

Digital Photograph, Intro to Photography: PHOTO 100 Austin Benner

22

She

Teshanna Adams Behind her smile tells her saddest story Stories so tragic which often end up bloody and gory She tries to hold in as much insecurities & anxieties Searching and crying for help, can’t you see?

Love alone wasn’t enough for her to survive She swear she tried her hardest in order to thrive Tears fill her eyes, crying and fussing every night Hoping for the day her gloomy persona would soon turn bright

But wait something gently appeared in her life He became her new addiction as opposed to the knife Oh No! She’s starting to crumble, now please don’t ask why she’s crying She’s in safe arms now, because He simply knows how to keep her smiling

Stencil print, Intro to Printmaking: ART 040 Ian Posh

23

Alive

Cazembe Dwyer Alive! I am Alive. Yes, I am Alive!

My bones tingle with the energy of life itself The energy of life surrounds me It protects me It cradles me Guides me Guidance that watches, As I become one with that vast road titled after 6 before 9 I look in my glass made Field of vision, And I am alert!

Alert like the dog and his mailman, Like the soldier and his enemy, I AM ALERT. My mind focused and my intentions clear, I make onward press to my education most near and dear.

Behold this day!

Of higher teachings and higher truths does not belong to me For I am destined, To become the victim of circumstance’s wet road.

Circumstance’s winter wet road As I make contact with the 80,000 pound 18 wheeled personification of doom and despair Death and tragedy Bold and might This is my plight and from this contact, my steel against his heavy steel I spin, twirling like the pinwheel in a little girl’s hand on a summer day

24

Here I am, With clear motives heading towards that higher learning, Now spinning on this vast wet road.

Time Slows.

My Heart Calms.

Moment of Clarity.

As I attempt to make my steel, My own once more, I become one with another personification of doom, That’s what I called double doom and yet my mental is vital.

As I direct my wheel of control towards the dirt of mother earth, Time resumes.

I climb out victorious, unscathed.

There I stood 6 feet 2 inches tall in front of twisted metal skin, Still black like the kettle whistling on a cold winter day.

Dazed and confused, I could not help but look upon the heavens and say thank you.

Thank you for this chance you have given me, Thank you for this guidance you have blessed me with, Thank you for this protection you have granted me.

Thank you, For now here I stand upon this cold dirt, Watching the cars past fast before me from the side of the road I am Alive

25

Digital Photograph, Intro to Photography: PHOTO 100 Erisha Siddiqui

26

The Trail

Molly Branton The pounding of her feet echoed in Jackie’s ears as she ran up the street. It was a crisp autumn morning and the orange and red leaves seemed to cling to the branches as Jackie did to the crinkled letter in her hand. She reached the end of the cul-de-sac, but did not slow down her pace as she pushed open the red front door.

“Oh! Hi Jackie…” said Mrs. Anderson.

“Morning Mrs. Anderson!” said Jackie. Jackie didn’t even bother to do more than a quick glance at her best friend’s mother before she ran up the dark wooden stairs.

“I don’t think she’s awake yet!” said Mrs. Anderson. Her words seemed to have no affect on Jackie because soon enough she was bursting through Christy’s bedroom door and shaking her awake.

“Chris wake up! Now please! This is urgent!” yelled Jackie.

“What the hell Jack…” said Christy. Christy tried to figure out what was occurring as she reached for her alarm clock. She tilted it towards her face and squinted trying to decipher the red numbers.

“I know it’s only 9: 23, but this was urgent and I couldn’t wait for you to wake up by yourself, said Jackie. I’m serious Chris this is urgent! I don’t know what to do,” she continued.

“Okay, okay stop talking so fast I’m still half asleep,” said Christy.

Jackie shoved the letter into Christy’s hands. Christy looked confused as she tried to flatten out the piece of notebook paper as Jackie stared impatiently with tears brimming in her eyes.

Jackie, Meet me tonight at The Trail at 12.

I need to explain to you what happened.

Please don’t tell anybody about this.

Derek Christy’s face went as white as a ghost and her palms grew sweaty. She re-read the letter three times before getting the courage to look into her friends big dark brown eyes. Jackie didn’t seem to notice her friends change in composure, but was shaking anxiously awaiting what her friend would say. “Wow…well you aren’t going to go obviously… right?” asked Christy.

“I don’t know that’s why I needed to talk to you. He broke up with me right after Eric died and hasn’t glanced my way since. It’s like I lost two of my best friends in a matter of two days. I feel like there has to be an explanation for leaving me when I needed him the most,” said Jackie.

“Maybe, but it’s been three years. Do you really want to bring back all of those memories? You’ve been doing so well lately,” said Christy.

“I know I have. But I don’t think I’ll be able to accept my brother’s death completely until I hear what he has to say,” said Jackie.

“But it’s probably just an apology for how he handled it,” said Christy.

27

“Maybe so, but even that would be nice to hear,” said Jackie.

“Jack I’m sorry, but be real here. If he can’t handle that kind of stuff and just leaves you stranded and alone… why would you want to give someone like that any time of day?” asked Christy.

“I don’t know, but I’m going. I need to. Please come with me,” said Jackie.

“What? No way! It says right there that he didn’t want you to tell anyone and then if I come… no… no way,” said Christy.

“I won’t be comfortable without you. He doesn’t have to see you. Just wait outside of The Trail or something… please Chris. I need you,” said Jackie.

The tears brimming in Jackie’s eyes finally emerged and slowly began rolling down her cheeks. “Okay… fine,” said Christy.

-----------------------------------“Are you two mice or something? Eat your pizza and stop pulling it apart,” said Mrs. Nichols. Jackie and Christy did not hear Mrs. Nichols as they stared at their plastic plates. It was around 6 o’clock and both of the girls’ stomachs were in knots awaiting Jackie’s meeting with Derek later that night.

“Hello! Girls,” yelled Mr. Nichols.

“Huh? Oh sorry! We’re not that hungry, do you care if we just go watch a movie or something?” asked Jackie. Mr. and Mrs. Nichols nodded and allowed Jackie and Christy to leave the table. They headed to Jackie’s room and locked the door.

They laid on her bed in silence and stared at the ceiling. Both girls were watching the ceiling fan go round and round trying to focus on anything else besides they’re fear. It wasn’t until 8 o’clock until Christy shakily spoke.

“I really don’t think I should go,” said Christy.

“Chris, not now please. You can’t change your mind now,” said Jackie.

“I’ll be here when you get back! If he sees me it could ruin everything!” said Christy. Christy tore her eyes off the fan and turned her face towards Jackie. Her best friends rosy cheeks were wet and her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying silently for two hours. Christy squeezed Jackie’s hand as an apology and a reassurance that she would go.

-----------------------------------Christy sat on the bed watching Jackie get ready. She brushed her tangled long brown hair and tied it loosely in a ponytail. She quickly pulled on a light grey hoodie and then zipped her black jacket overtop. Christy had admired Jackie since first grade when Christy had moved in Jackie’s cul-de-sac. As they years went by, Jackie only become more beautiful and kind. Her skin was constantly glowing and her big brown eyes were enticing and seemed to hold a million secrets. Every girl wanted to be here and every guy wanted to have her.

Christy seemed to be just the opposite. Her frizzy blonde hair never calmed down, her face was constantly broken out, and she stood tall and lanky. Christy had become dependent on Jackie because she was the only one who seemed to accept her. Jackie always made time for Christy between her other friends and family, but Christy was still always jealous of her. She would crave attention from Jackie and wanted to spend every spare moment with her. Many of Jackie’s friends and even Eric had questioned what Christy’s real intentions were, but Jackie never paid them any attention.

28

At 11:45 they tiptoed past Mr. and Mrs. Nichols bedroom. Although it had been three years since they snuck out, they still knew which creaky floorboards to avoid. They both sucked in their breath when the cold and bitter air hit them. The full moon was barely visible through the clouds. Jackie and Christy shoved their hands in their pockets and walked silently to The Trail.

The Trail was located deep in the woods along a pathway that connected several neighborhoods. It was an old abandoned wooden one-room home that seemed to be falling apart more each day. Three years ago, The Trail was the spot to be. At least once a month several kids from each neighborhood would meet up at night. Sometimes they would have a case of beer or two. Other times they would all just meet up to talk. No matter what, The Trail seemed to enclose every secret or event that occurred. However, that all ended on the night that Eric Nichols died.

Eric was one year older than Jackie. He was the protective and loving older brother that took his sister everywhere. They looked like identical twins and their laughs were contagious whenever you were with them. It was the final gathering at The Trail before the start of Eric’s sophomore year. It had rained earlier that day, so the summer night held a mosquitos’ favorite type of humidity. The pile of beer cans grew in the trash bag and nobody seemed to notice when Eric slipped and hit his head on a rock. As a second trash bag was opened, only one person noticed when someone dragged Eric’s body deeper into the woods to die.

Jackie had snuck back home with Christy when Christy had complained on being tired. She tried to tell Eric, but couldn’t find him, and Christy was becoming impatient. Jackie awoke to her mother and father questioning her where her brother was. Several hours passed without a trace of Eric before Jackie confessed about The Trail. The police were notified and Eric was found deep in the woods dead with a head injury. It was called an accident and nobody had returned to The Trail since.

“Thanks for coming,” said Derek. Jackie’s stomach lurched at the sound of his voice. She turned to him and when their eyes met a chill went down her spine and her mouth went dry. She nodded her head unable to form any words.

“How have you been?” asked Derek.

“How have I been? Okay let’s see. Well three years ago my brother was found dead in the woods. Two days later my best friend and boyfriend stopped speaking to me. So all I’ve had is a bunch of people give me the sad look like they understand what I’m going through and I’ve only had Christy to actually talk to or listen to me because I can’t go to my parents because all they see when they look at me is my brother. So you know what I’ve been going through hell!” said Jackie. Derek looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet unsure of what to say next. “Please just tell me why you asked me to meet you here after three years?” continued Jackie.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me either Jackie. Do you know how hard it’s been to just stand by and watch you all these years?” asked Derek.

“Oh yes! I’m sure it was such a struggle! If it was so hard why didn’t you just talk to me?” asked Jackie.

“Jackie stop! Please I want to explain, but I can’t with you yelling! My life was threatened Jackie. Okay! I was told if I spoke to you then I would be killed,” said Derek.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jackie.

“Christy! Yes you’re best friend. She dragged your Eric’s body into the woods. I saw her. She threatened that if I told anyone or continued to talk to you that she would find a way to kill me too. It freaked me out. After I saw her dragging a body into the woods I didn’t know what else she was capable of. I should’ve told somebody, but I was freaking out and then I thought it was to late. But I can’t just stand by and watch you continue to be her friend when she was the one who caused your brother to die,” said Derek.

29

“Are you seriously about to blame this on my best friend? The one who has stuck by me through it all, the only one that I have been able to talk to about this whole situation,” said Jackie.

“I know you don’t want to believe it, but think about it! She has no other real friends besides you, so she has become really attached to you over the years,” said Derek.

“Stop,” said Jackie. “and she was jealous of you and your brothers close relationship and probably yours and mine, or she didn’t want me to slip that I saw what she did to you because she didn’t want to lose you,” said Derek.

“STOP!” yelled Jackie. Jackie was as pale as a ghost as his words hit her. She started shaking with fear and confusion. “Let’s go talk to her,” said Jackie.

“Wait what? You brought her? Jackie! I told you not to tell anyone!” yelled Derek.

“And you thought I would’ve felt comfortable coming to meet you by myself? No, now come and get her with me,” said Jackie. Derek and Jackie slowly walked out of The Trail into the cold night air. “Christy?” whispered Jackie. The croaked out name seemed to come to a halt when it hit the air. She glanced at Derek and he nodded his head encouraging her to go on. She took a deep breath. “Christy?” asked Jackie. This time much louder, the name seemed to echo in Jackie’s ears as she waited for a response. A minute passed seeming as ten before tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Where is she? She has to be here. She was going to wait right behind that tree,” said Jackie.

“Let’s look around. Maybe she just changed spots or didn’t hear us,” said Derek. Jackie nodded and they walked together around the perimeter of The Trail. After a couple minutes Jackie realized that she had left.

“Maybe she just went home. She didn’t want to come, so maybe she just thought it would be nice to walk me here and then leave or something,” said Jackie.

“Jackie… she didn’t want to come because she probably knew I was going to tell you the truth,” said Derek.

Jackie fell to the ground as the sobs had her heaving making it unable for her to move.

-----------------------------------Days passed before Jackie seemed to really wake up. Her mind flashed to The Trail, Derek carrying her home, and waking her parents to tell them the story. She rubbed her swollen eyes and glanced over at her clock on the bedside table and saw a folded piece of paper. She opened it and read: Jack, I’m sorry.

You’ll never see me again.

I love you.

Your Best Friend- Chris

30

Linocut Print, Intro to Printmaking: ART 040 Marissa Krebs

31

A Glance into a Musician’s Mind Gerald Kroboth

Just one song, that’s all I need That one song to bounce to the top of the charts That one song that’ll put me on the map That’s all I need But I can’t get it

What should the words be?

What style of music?

Should I keep it acoustic or rock it out?

I like some of this pop music; YO I could even rap it!

I just need an idea But I can’t get it

Image is a big part too!

When I’m on the videos, what should I do?

Maybe I’ll push with my hands, then jump up and down Start to headbang, then brush my hair out of my eyes Give them the wink...

But hey, don’t sit there and laugh!

Even if I’m up here making myself look like an a-Wait, I can’t say that Gotta stay clean for the radio Oh, but what can I say though?

32

I don’t wanna fall into the same patterns as everyone else I can’t be forgotten, another number I don’t know how to settle with my life Behind a desk, working a 9-5 That’s not me man, that probably never will be But, I just need that song!

God this’ll be the death of me

Too much to think, too much I could say!

I’m sitting here writing and writing What’s the melody?

Doot doooo dah, la la Yeah that sounds good!

No wait, it doesn’t, that’ll never work

Just one song, that’s all I need I’ll never get it I should probably just grow up And tell the dreams to forget it Just one song...

I’M DONE! I’m tired of all of this...

Wait...

I got it.

33

Permanent Marker on Paper, Intro to Painting: ART 050 Lennette Benzo

34

Lone

Shelby Carr You are not one to complain about the state that is alone. You don’t feel the deep sadness of singularity, the misery of one. More often than not, you seek the solace of solitude, looking for an escape from the trivial social niceties and human inconsistencies of everyday life.

You are what some would call wildly antisocial, you know? You have a few close friends that you love dearly, but see irregularly and ignore more frequently. You are but a humble hermit (and a perfect victim), content to alienate friends and loved ones or wander through nature. That is where true happiness can be found.

In these dark and biting winter months, you find yourself inexorably drawn to the woods (I will admit, this is some of my own influence as well). The stark beauty of naked trees, limbs stretched to the faint, yet terribly hypnotic, glow of the Milky Way. The creaking of branches and the faint whisper of an icy wind and the crunch of your heavy boots cracking through that frozen skin that coats the snow. There is joy in the barren winter landscape that many people overlook because it is cold and dark and irritates their Seasonal Affective Disorder.

During the day you are a student, or a low level employee, or a distant child, or a reclusive friend. You are the perfect vessel for me to wind my influence around. A poor participant of society, a shining example of everything a healthy, friendly, dynamic member of the community shouldn’t be. The community manages without you anyway. Although, a certain Doctor Reese seems to disagree.

“You need to get out and do things. Engage yourself,” he tells you. He does not know that you and I get out every night. Under my direction, you search for a place that is entirely devoid of human distraction. And that is engaging.

“I go to school, I have a job, I have interests. I am involved,” you lie convincingly to Dr. Reese, my words slithering out of your mouth. This does little to impress him. But, you and I don’t care what he thinks. He is old, spectacled. He wears sweaters that do little to warm the shockingly cold hand that shakes your own at the beginning of each session. His office is an icebox.

I think we are close to finding the perfect place. Back in the woods, there is a stream, and we have been following it around endlessly, sometimes all night, so that in class you are tired and wan faced, and no, Professor, you would not like to go to Student Health Services. Thanks for asking.

At night, the stream is like a radiant flow of mercury. It shines and glistens under a pale moon. A luminous moon that bleaches everything of color and brings an eerie beauty to this harsh realm that you have grown so attached to since I’ve taken hold of you.

Sometimes I let you sit in the snow and just watch the stream. You see the low hanging branches of dumpy looking pines and firs leaning down to gently touch the surface of the partially frozen water like timid lovers. You do the same, extending fingers that are stiff from the cold and cracking and bleeding at the knuckles. The absolutely frigid water shocks at first, but then flows through your veins like a doctor’s preemptive injection.

You enjoy the cold (thanks to me). I would rather be freezing than burning up. At least when you’re cold, there is the chance that you will experience the warmth at some point, whether it’s a delusion or not. That’s promising, on some level, that you will eventually feel the warmth again, but that could be a very long time from now, and we have no patience when it comes to waiting.

You wander in most nights slightly frozen and looking like a savage. Your hair is tangled and messy, your skin is leeched of all pigment from the cold, and your clothes are wet and stained. You are tired, but not so tired that it is unbearable.

35

“You look like a corpse,” your boring roommate, Angela, says, face lit by the blueish glow of her laptop screen. Blueish like your lips. I decide you can’t answer her insipid comment as you peel off your jacket that is the complete opposite of water-proof. The skin beneath feels chill and slightly slick as you fall down into your desk chair and use your own laptop, navigating to a page on hypothermia with stiff, unresponsive digits. You’re doing my research now.

Mild symptoms are hard to recognize and not significant. Moderate symptoms include stumbling around like a moron, paleness, blue lips, violent shivering. When symptoms are severe, physiological abilities are impaired.

Heart rate, respiratory rate, and blood pressure decrease. Major organs start to fail and soon the victim begins paradoxically undressing. Sometimes, terminal burrowing occurs, also known as hide-and-die syndrome. You shut off your computer and crawl into bed as Angela starts to drone on about something or other that our cold brain does not care about.

You wake up to an empty dorm room that is just as dark as it is outside. A clock informs you that it is late afternoon and, with some persuading from me, you get up, shoving your wintery body into clothes and the still damp jacket. You slip both feet into moccasins (a poor choice, but you have never been one for dressing for the elements, apparently) and, like a magnet, gravitate towards the woods. People you pass look at you with quiet curiosity, like they somehow know you’ve lost control in this situation, but soon they are gone and you are alone with me out in the pines. Your moccasins turn into soggy pouches and I make you kick them off, relishing the freezing snow under your toes.

Soon we reach the stream, following its silvery length for god knows how long. It could be hours, days.

Years? Occasionally you stumble into its shallows, tripping over slippery rocks. At points you are practically crawling, but you are a determined thing (or, rather, I am the determined thing). The feel of the wet snow beneath your palms sends shocks to your clouded brain and you try unsuccessfully to force me out. Your fingers scratch along rough tree trunks, but soon you can’t even feel that. But that’s okay. You’re almost there.

You fall down for quite a bit, your breathing labored and slow. I let you rest. The sky is practically spinning, turning into a big, blurry, kaleidoscopic scene of treetops and shimmering stars that you are barely able to steady.

Despite the biting cold, I urge you to roll onto your knees like the stupid ice cube you are and slog onward. I suppose at this point the tunnel vision occurs and you can barely focus on what’s in front of you.

You dimly register seeing your blue feet in the snow, moving slowly, clumsily, or your empurpled hands stretched uselessly in front of you. In a second the cold becomes too much for you, and you experience a burst of warmth that leaves you hot and uncomfortable, just as you see the mouth of a small cave. The stream winds out from it, and I know we have found the right place. The closer you get, the more clothes you lose.

A jacket drops in the snow, followed by a shirt and soaked jeans. You creep like a discolored baby deer, legs out of control and skin disgustingly pale with rather blue extremities. You fall, your hands and kneecaps connecting painfully with the stream bottom. I make you drag yourself as far into the little stone hovel as possible and wallow in the shallow water, watching the black night sky through vision that is more slit like than tunnel.

I think we both know what’s coming next. Life does not go out with a magnificent whoosh or a bang. It is not accompanied with a bright light or a chorus of heavenly voices, at least not for you. It (and I, as well) goes out with a sigh that slips from between blue lips, into a quiet puff of nihilistic air that dissipates and leaves the tiny little icebox cave. They wont find your body for quite some time, my dear host.

36

Message not Sent Will Sampson

“Keep your head down, Dave,” I tell myself. “They don’t care, so neither should you.”

Each day, I don’t care. I go to class. I slide through. I go home. No one cares, so why should I? I’ll sit in the back so I won’t look like someone who cares. The people who care get picked on. I’ll do my best to not do my best. If I’m noticed, I’ll be picked on.

I feel my phone vibrating through my pocket. It’s Haley, the only person I trust enough to talk to. She’s someone who cares and manages to not get picked on. I don’t know how she does it, but I don’t care. I’m fine the way I am. My screen is scratched up, the battery can’t hold a charge, and it’s four years old already. Everyone else has fancy new phones, so I don’t answer mine yet. They’ll see my crappy phone and I’ll be picked on.

I don’t know why I have this paranoia that people will pick on me if I make myself noticed in any way. If they don’t care about me, why should I? But surely, they’ll judge me if I open my mouth. They’ll wonder why I care, and I’ll be their target. I’ll just hide myself.

I sit at lunch with a few other people who don’t care about me. I might as well be alone, but there aren’t any empty tables. It doesn’t matter, because I can text Haley. It’s okay, because she cares about me and she won’t pick on me. I care about her too. It sucks. Her parents sent her to a private school for high school, deserting me here. If she was just here... if I had an ally who could be at my side right here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t have this irrational fear, because if anything happens, I could go back to her, and we’d forget everything. I could be myself.

“David!” Haley’s text read. “What are you thinking about?”

“How I wish you were here, but I’ve been complaining about that for the since this semester started.”

“It really doesn’t have to though. You’re at a large school. There has to be somebody you can talk to, and friends you can make.”

Heh. That’s a good one. There are so many people, that I can’t judge if they’ll accept me or not. Rumors spread quickly. If one person hates me, surely they will all start to hate me.

“Well,” I respond. “There is someone who says hi to me usually.”

“Cute face?”

I start to blush. I did have a crush. She nailed it on the head. “Well, yes, actually. But, I’m sure I’ll ruin my reputation if I respond to ‘hi’ with ‘you have a cute face’. I’ll just keep our relationship where it is.”

“Your reputation as what?”

“The quiet kid who doesn’t do anything. Anonymous is nice.”

“I get the feeling that you don’t really enjoy being anonymous. You won’t get a friend if you don’t do something to make you stand out,” she sent with a winky face punctuating her message.

“I guess. I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit. Go out, be David!”

37

“Yeah!” I punctuate with a smiley.

I return my tray just in time for lunch to be dismissed. The crowd heads for the door, and I follow them through. A group of guys shove past me in a hurry. They obviously didn’t care that there was a person already occupying that space. They look back at me and laugh. Why? Did I do something to them to be picked on? Already, I’m feeling the determination I faked with Haley starting to fade.

I return to class, pretend to pay attention to the teacher, finish the hand out, and sit around for awhile until the bell rings. School is out. I head onto the bus, and keep my head down until my stop comes. I finish my homework, eat dinner with my parents, and then head off to sleep. I’m always tired.

I oversleep. I waste no time getting dressed, and grabbing my bag. I’m out the door and get to the bus stop with exactly zero seconds to spare. People are looking at me. They’ve noticed, and now they’re judging me. Look at them snickering. They don’t really care though. If I just keep my head down, they’ll forget. They can’t see you if you don’t move.

First block is gym, and damn, I forgot my clothes. I’m the first one in the gym while everyone else is getting changed in the locker rooms. I sit down on the bleachers to wait for attendance. Soon enough people make their way into the gym and fill in their seats. I pick my head up, for just a moment, wondering if the teacher was making her way out yet. That was a mistake. I should have kept my head down.

A group of girls stared at me. A death glare is what one might call it. Jessica, the leader of the group quickly looks away. Jessica is one of those popular girls doing sports. Was it softball? Or was she a cheerleader? I don’t care. She only pretends to care. The stuff she says behind her friends back are not very friendly. She only cares about one thing, and she cares too much about her own image to say it out loud.

It’s people like this who only fuel my fear. I wonder what she says about me behind my back. Usually this group is always gossiping about someone or something. But now, they’ve just shut up. They sit down, cross their arms and remain in silence. I do the same, figuring I might be able to take a quick nap. If I keep my head down, they’ll just forget me.

“How dare you,” one of these girls said, shaking me out of my nap. “How can you sleep after what you did to Jess? She has a boyfriend you know. He’s real pissed.”

Her boyfriend has always been, and still is, the talk of the whole school, and when they started dating, “Darrylca” was the hottest topic. How could I not know? It took more work than I cared to put forth to not hear about them. It’s not surprising though. Star player of the football team dating... yeah, she is a cheerleader. She’s the captain.

No surprise. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?

I shrug, and keep my head down. I don’t know what Darryl wants with me, or why Jessica’s group is targeting me. I close my eyes and try to sleep. If I don’t move, they’ll think I’m dead and find another thing to prey on.

“David, David, David,” I feel a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t just say that to people! I know Jessica has a nice... uh... well, you know. But, dude, contain yourself! Her boyfriend is livid.”

“Please, just leave me alone,” I say, brushing the hand aside. I don’t even know who’s talking. I don’t care anyway. But Jessica, the one who was giving me the death glare finally turns around and looks me in the eye. Her face is red. She’s in tears..

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone, you creep!”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about,” I say.

“Just shut up,” Jessica says. “Darryl is going to kill you.”

38

I try going back to sleep, but the teacher is here. She goes through the attendance.

“David,” she says. “Why aren’t you prepared?”

“I forgot my clothes at home.”

“Well, you’re getting a zero for the day. Everyone else, start running.”

I close my eyes and fall asleep in the bleachers for the rest of the block. As long as I can avoid Darryl, everything will be okay. Whatever happened, they’ll forget about it. They don’t really care.

I make my way to Chemistry. I see Josh coming down the hall, smiling as always.

“Hello there, Dave,” he says to me, his tone quite chipper. He’s always cheery. I don’t know how he does it. It must be nice.

“Hi Josh,” I wave, returning the smile as we pass each other. Once Josh is out of sight, my smile disappears, as I remember than I have no friends, and then I keep my head down wondering what exactly happened at gym..

I reach into my pocket. I have to talk to Haley about what happened during gym, but nothing is there. Did I leave it at home? I was in such a rush this morning. Guess I’ll have to wait until I get home.

As I sit down, I can hear everyone talking, but I definitely hear my name. It’s hard to ignore something when the mere sound of your own voice keeps you focused on it.

“He’s such a pervert,” one guy says.

“He’s a faggot who should just make up his mind. What the hell is he doing?” a girl responds.

“I’m right here you know,” I shout at them. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

“Good,” the guy said. “You didn’t spare us either. I’d tell you to fuck off, but you’d enjoy that too much.”

The teacher comes in, and the talking immediately stops. I keep my head down for the lesson. I wish I had my phone with me. I need to talk to Haley. At least there was no lab to do. No one would seem to even tolerate me long enough to work.

Once second block ends, I run to my next class. I try my best to make eye contact with nobody. But unfortunately, I hear my name, and I have to look up. It’s Josh again. He holds up his phone.

“David, what’s up with-” I have no time for this. I don’t know what sort of thing he’s been hearing, but I don’t want to know at all. I have two more classes left in the day and lunch. Darryl is not someone whose bad side I want to be on. I just need to avoid him for the rest of the day. Then, maybe he’ll forget.

My third block class managed to completely miss the weirdness that has been going on all day. But it also meant that lunch was that much closer. I did somehow avoid Darryl throughout the day up to this point, but I can’t remember if he was in the same lunch period as me. I’m still afraid about it. What happened that got everyone mad at me anyway?

I don’t even eat. Once I enter the cafeteria, I throw my hood over my head and crash onto my table. My face is tickled...the table is vibrating, no my phone is vibrating on the table. The memory is full, and I’m getting texts from numbers I don’t even recognize.

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I open my phone, and start going through it. I’m disgusted by the things that I see, the things that have been sent from my phone. I see the most recent conversation, probably any other responses disappeared after the memory filled. Who did this?

“Josh,” this text read. “The truth is, I, David, think you are a sexy beast,” followed by many other things I would never have dared say to anyone. Disgusting things.

The response was single question mark, followed by a “Who sent this?”

But all I could think of was: “Why was this sent?” Now he knows. Now it will be so awkward just to say “hi” to him. The only person in this school who I wasn’t afraid of, he hates me now. He probably doesn’t even want to see my face again. There was nothing to do except keep my head down and hope that maybe they’ll forget about me, and I can go back to being anonymous. But that won’t ever happen. This is a large school, and rumors spread quickly. I don’t know how these people know, or if they really know at all, but it doesn’t matter. Now, everyone will know me, no matter how much I hide.

The large muscle-bound jock looms from behind. The star football player, large enough to play professionally, begins to breathe down my neck, nothing more than an animal acting on his anger, aroused by the smell of my fear. I don’t dare lift my head. It won’t matter to him anyway. He doesn’t care, so why should I? you!”

“What is the meaning of this, you dirty perv? You made Jennifer cry! She’s embarrassed and hurt! How dare

“Hey, what’s going on?” another voice says. I know this voice, but I make no motion to respond to it. My head remains buried.

“What do you want?” Darryl says.

Just keep your head down, and don’t move.

“Why are you picking a fight with him?”

“Look at these texts he sent to my girlfriend! This is sexual harassment!”

“His phone was stolen. Probably them over there. I saw one of them put his phone back on the table. They’re laughing at us as we speak.”

I picked my own head up and saw the jock heading straight towards another table. They were those guys from yesterday who shoved me. Once Darryl left my table, their laughs were quickly silenced, each of them running to get as far away from him as possible.

“Why don’t you sit with us instead?”

I turn around, and see that it was Josh who had handled Darryl. He was no where near Darryl’s size, but yet he confronted him anyway, and Darryl seemed to buy it. I followed him back to his table with his friends, each had a smile and waved me over, a strange mix of people.

“New blood!” a petite girl with pink hair laughed, raising her carton of chocolate milk. “This is a cause for celebration.”

“Well,” Josh said. “We can start by finding a larger table.”

“Thanks,” I told Josh.

“That’s what friends are for.”

40

Conducting the Experiment Sarita Rodriguez

The least of the seven There were seven of us standing, waiting in the cold winter breeze for a train. Not just any train mind you.

This train was one of a kind; a cross country train, with five stops in five cities and luxury cars. I had won a contest and was thus the only one there in consignment shop clothes. My jacket was well loved corduroy and my suitcase that of the sixties. There were two ladies adorned in lush fur coats, one brown the other black, trading secretes while they stood at the very edge of the platform. A tall gentleman in an Armani suit and trench coat leaned nonchalant against a pillar. A fat cigar traded placed between his thin pale lips and long lean fingers. His gold watch flickering as it caught the sunlight. On the bench next him, a small round man was perched. He too wore an expensive suit and trench coat, only he was busting out of his clothing. A thin cheroot made its way between his pudgy lips and sausage hands. Behind me stood a detective, only identifiable by his hand gun and second grade trench coat. Geeze what is up with all the trench coats! The only normal looking person was a young college looking girl in a pea coat and a peach colored hat with a cute little bow. I ran my gloved hand through my too long for a guy, hair and looked down the tracks for the coveted train. A shabby news cast team was standing in the parking lot ready to broadcast the world’s first glimpse of a hovering train. The small towns only claim to fame. There was no crowed. It was eerily quiet. Then we heard the blast of a train horn in the distance.

“Sounds ominous doesn’t it?”

The conductor suddenly appeared next to me. I almost fell off the platform.

“Uhhh I hope not” I said with a nervous giggle. The conductor stared at me awkwardly as the train pulled up.

“All aboard!!” he shouted and climbed in. He was still staring. I glanced around. Everyone was gathering their things so I picked up my hippie carpet bag and clambered in as well.

The Georgia Peach The train was sleek and magnificent from the outside, the words “The Experiment” were painted in a shinny blue along the head car. I just couldn’t wait to see the inside! I pulled my lucky peach colored hat back on my head as it was always falling off and jiggled my legs with excitement. As the train pulled up smoothly I noticed the sudden appearance of our conductor. He was standing next to a grungy looking young man with oddly long hair.

The conductor was staring at me. I shivered under his awkward gaze and adjusted my favorite peach hat to avoid making eye contact.

“All aboard” He called; still staring. Nervously I picked up my light pink travel bags and tried to focus on the beautiful train and exciting journey ahead. I was overjoyed when my editor finally gave me, the youngest reporter in the office, a good story. To report on the biggest mechanical discovery since the steam engine would make my career: is going to make my career. I stored my things in my bedroom, yes bedroom, and rushed to the viewing car with my tablet to begin writing. On the way there I bumped into two ladies in their early forties, adorned in large pearls and tailored clothing, their wealth was obvious.

“Oooooh helllooo there sweet heart, I am just sooo sorry” the lady in brown coed as she reached for my dropped tablet.

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“Oh no that fine I’ll get it Ma’m” I said as I bent to grab my precious tablet.

“Your purse dearie!”

The woman in black exclaimed in a voice too loud for the space provided. Indeed the brown woman’s purse was spilling out onto the lush carpeting. Jewels blanketed the carpet quick as a wink. I stared gaping at the sight.

“We were on our way to the safe in front car” The black woman said with a high pitched giggle.

“Oh” I said and began to pick up strings of rubies and pearls from the ground and placing them back in the brown woman’s purse. While doing so I accidentally brushed the woman’s large hand which she immediately hid with a nervous giggle.

“Oh nooooo ….. um… what’s your name muffin?”

The woman in brown asked.

“Oh I’m Georgia” I said holding out my hand. The woman in brown looked at my hand frowned, looked at my face smiled a sickly sweet smile before saying “Thank you for your help Georgia but we won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Oh” I said again feeling oddly rejected “okay I will see you both at dinner” I smiled and left with my tablet.

Those two ladies were very large and very odd, I thought to myself as I walked to the viewing car.

The Lovely ladies?

“That little rodent touched our jewels Jude!” The lady in black exclaimed to the lady in brown after the Georgia had left.

“I know Taylor, I’m sorry it was an accident and it’s JUDY” the lady in brown said to the lady in black.

“We need to make it to California without further incident” Jude scowled grabbing up the remaining gems and stuffing them into Taylor’s purse.

“Let’s just get to the safe okay?”Taylor grumbled.

Jude stood abruptly and giggled. Tayler responded quickly by snatching up her purse and turning with batting eyelashes to whatever Jude was looking at.

“Is there something in your throat madam?”the short round man said to Taylor.

“Oh.. um.. I have a bit of a tickle in my throat I’m afraid, thank you for your concern” Taylor said smiling widely and jutting out her large hip.

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“Well I hope you aren’t contagious” The tall thin man said quite rudely glancing at his gold watch like he was in a rush.

“Excuse me?” Jude said in an oddly deep voice.

“I’m sorry madam, my companion is running on very little sleep, if you will be kind enough to pardon us we are just on our way to the viewing cart” The short man bowed deeply, grabbed the tall smirking man by the sleeve and took off hurriedly towards the viewing car.

“We need to watch those two” Jude whispered to Taylor as they strutted down the train intent on reaching the safe. As they were leaving the car they noticed the image of the conductor reflected in the glass door. Taylor and Jude exchanged frightened glances before hurrying on their way.

The Prodgidal Son and his Jiminy cricket “Those were some very fake titties Lyle” The tall man chuckled to the fat man.

“Really Brandon, you need to get ahold of yourself” the short man harrumphed at the s

skinny man.

The two men seated themselves in large lounge chairs in the viewing area. The car was entirely clear, but the train was moving too quickly to see anything but a blur of color. Thus, the walls would display pictures with descriptions of things they were passing. The display changed almost every minute on the dot.

Brandon rolled his head back over the edge of his chair, “Say you like big fake titties Lyle.”

“I will not, and you will get a hold of yourself, we must get you to California to see your father.”

Lyle pulled out a cheroot and began to smoke it furiously.

“Can I have a drink then my dear Lyle” Brandon said to the ceiling.

Lyle blew out a long puff of smoke.

“Please Lyle, I want to get drunk.” Brandon again spoke to the ceiling.

“Lyle I’m bored” Brandon picked his head up “You know how my father is, I need to get drunk.”

Lyle covered is small round face with his doughy hand and sighed “Fine, get wasted.”

Brandon grinned and ordered a bottle of Captain from the touch screen embedded into the arm of his chair.

“Get me wasted too while you’re at it” Lyle said with another sigh.

Brandon changed his order.

“But we better be sober before we see the engine Brandon we simply cannot fail your father again, you must

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be in your right mind if your going to utilize that miracle watch of yours” Lyle said bitterly.

“Oh shut your fat mouth, I promise my dear daddy’s engineering company will be pleased with my cinematography skills.” Brandon said touching his gold watch protectively.

“Getting drunk so soon men?” a light and hearty voice proclaimed from above them. The two men looked up startled at the man before them still in his trench coat.

“I’m detective Marty” The man said jovially.

Brandon froze in his seat and sat on his watch. “A pleasure” Lyle said shaking Marty’s out stretched hand.

“You will have to excuse my friend Brandon here, he is under a bit of stress” -Lyle smiled smoothly-“I’m Lyle.”

“Women?” Marty asked cheerfully.

“Something like that” Lyle said dismissively.

“Well I will leave you boys to it then” Marty said seemingly unaffected by Lyle’s cool demeanor. The detective sauntered off towards a young lady in a peach colored hat.

“Now I really need to get wasted” Brandon murmured.

“Yeah” Lyle agreed “this is going to be some train ride, there are video cameras in this car” Lyle gestured with his head. Brandon abandoned his glass for the bottle and slumped down further in his seat.

A sketchy Detective Those two men don’t really fit the description I was given. The cat burglars that robbed the Jewelry store in NYC are supposed to be tall and lean. Maybe my informant is sending me on a wild goose chase. Still there is something off about them. I smiled at Georgia who was typing furiously on her tablet. This journalist may get a bigger story than she expected. I chuckled and she looked up.

“Something funny Marty?” she asked with her big brown eyes.

“I was just thinking that you’re in for the story of a lifetime babe” I smiled knowingly at her.

The slim journalist raised one eyebrow before returning to her tablet. Momentarily bored I watched as a grungy looking young man walked in. His brow was furrowed in concern.

“Everything alright lad?” I shouted across the car with a smile.

He walked over slowly and distractedly.

“The conductor won’t allow me to see the engine” he said in wonder and flopped down on the sofa next to me.

“WHAT!” the half-drunk Brandon nearly shouted across the car.

“It was in the brochure that we would get to see the engine” Lyle said calmly as he glared at Brandon.

“Well the conductor said he was informed that someone on this train intends to steal his design, and then blamed me because I am a civil engineering student!” The scrappy lad looked astonished.

“That’s horrible” Lyle said sympathetically.

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“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding” I said with a smile in Brandon’s direction.

“I will go talk to the conductor and figure out what’s going on” I said calmly as I pointedly stared at Brandon.

Georgia had stopped typing and was now recording everything with her tablet. Smart Girl, she will make an excellent journalist. Before I could turn to leave the car two very voluptuous women fell, literally, into the car making a commotion. They were screeching in awkwardly high pitched voices about their jewelry. Brandon started vomiting in the corner, Lyle looked pale. Georgia got really excited and the grungy dude still looked stunned.

“Okay everybody settle down!” I shouted in my best cop voice.

The two ladies stood disheveled and were panting furiously. “We placed our jewelry in a safe, we went to check on it and its gone” Jude nearly growled. Her voice sounded oddly scruffy. Gerogia looked at me suspiciouly and took a step back. Great, my earlier comment was beginning to backfire. Sighing I turned to the nearest exit only to find that the door was locked. The two women seemed to have discovered the same thing about the other exit and were looking at me with a panicked expression. The walls of the car suddenly began flashing bright red and the words “we are currently in lock down please remain calm” were blaring from invisible speakers and streaming along the walls of the car. No one spoke as we all attempting to stay calm in this seemingly escalating situation.

Before any of us could speak Brandon stood up groggily. Pointed at the two ladies and burped. The tension was relieved for a moment, but before anyone could laugh he said “They’re men!” then reached out grabbed the lady in black’s breast and ripped it off.

A single silicone tit rolled across the floor and the car was enveloped in silence once more as the alarm rang foreboding around us.

The Conductor “Is everything proceeding as planned?” The conductor asked as he peered at the screens displaying the seven passengers in the viewing cart.

“Yes sir, so far all data supports your hypothesis” his assistant replied.

The conductor leaned over his assistant to better see the monitors. The prodigal son was drunk and pointing at one of the thieves. The conductor chuckled as the thin man burped loudly.

Not much of a Jimminy cricket is he” the assistant said as he zoomed in on the fat man barfing in the corner.

“No, be he will do for our purposes” the conductor said up-righting himself.

“How are our thieves performing” the conductor asked with a tilt of his head.

“Moderately” the assistant replied “they will certainly be instigators sir.”

“Good work” The conductor said “sound the alarm, lock all the exits and do not move the cameras any longer, I do not want any outside interference until the experiment is complete.”

‘Yes sir” the assistant said and did as the conductor asked.

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Photograph, Intro to Photography: PHOTO 100 Kaitlyn Kasmer

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Velocity would like to thank: Chancellor: Dr. Ann Williams Director of Academic Affairs: Dr. Kenneth Thigpen Web Edition: Kim Holloway and Kate Morgan Media Commons Advisor: Eileen Grodziak Velocity is compiled and edited by the students of English 050 Printing Editor: Skyler Vassalo Coordinating and Digital Editor: Sarita Rodriguez Editing Team: Megan Pustaver, William Sampson, Gerald Kroboth, and Andrew Bloodnick Lead Poetry Editor: Jillian Glasgow Poetry Team: Dominique Wilson, Cazembe Dwyer, Teshanna Adams, and Raya Abdelaal Prose Team: Anyssa Grayer and Justin Mungro.

Art Editors: Sara Faust, Shannon Sanchez, Deidre Rodriguez, Jordan Young, Andrew Hittinger, and Justin Valdes.

Graphics and Layout: Rachel Labelle and Molly Branton Special thanks to Art Gallery Director Ann Lalik, Art Instructor Ron DeLong, and Photography Instructor Greta Brubaker An extra special thanks to Eric Chiles, Professor of English 50- Creative Writing.

Cover Art:

Stamp Print, Intro to Printmaking: ART 040 Tina Selah