The Cardinal Review
Literary Magazine Vol. 3, No. 1
Reflections
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Contents Cover Photos by Katie Drais Note from the club leaders
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Love Story - Anonymous
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Blue - Anonymous
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On Coffee and Dew - Annabelle Burg (2022)
5-6
“I don’t know exactly what I mean by that but I mean it” - Zia Holmes (2025)
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Turn-Note - Charlie Houk (2022), Photography by Ella Jeffries (2022)
8-9
Excerpted photos from “A Frostbitten Dream” by Nalu Farrell (2022)
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Rubber Boot Reflections - Anonymous, Photography by Ella Jeffries (2022)
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Welcome to Party City - Ella Jeffries (2022), Photography by Katie Drais (2022)
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Dirty Laundry - Anonymous, Photography by Katie Drais (2022)
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His Thin Lipless Smile - Cassandra Clemons (2023), Photography by Katie Drais (2022)
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It Happened When I Was Nine- Wendy Amador (2022)
20-21
Cracked - Lex Capestany (2022)
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Student (in the style of “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid) Anonymous, Photography by Ella Jeffries (2022)
23-25
A Point in Time - Anonymous
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Photography by Katie Drais (2022)
27-28
The Last Day Before Summer - Anonymous
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Shadows and Faeries - Anonymous
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Our Team
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Note from the club leaders: On behalf of the Literary Magazine Club, we hope you enjoy this collection of student writing, art, and photography. We want to thank everyone who put themselves out there by submitting their work and applaud them on their new status as published artists! Sharing your art with others requires a commendable amount of bravery and we are so proud of each of you for taking that step. The theme of this issue is “Reflections,” a consistent element in the works we received. We hope that reading the pieces in this issue allows you to reflect on your life experiences. If you are inspired by the work in this magazine, please submit your own work for the next issue. We hope to work with you soon! Thank you for reading and enjoy! -
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Ella Jeffries and Zola Morris
Love Story By Anonymous I know you, met you Our friendship an early bloom Late winter, I love A mirrored mind The hand in mine, a soulmate Cherry trees, I love A small confession Caring arms around my heart Summer sun, I love A wildfire desire Your lips on mine, that brief touch Autumn flame, I love Forever eyes stare The broken glass, smiles blossom Comfort cold, I love The bonds now broken Our love now replaced by pain Mortal spring, I hate A spirit flies free A love now shared, sacrificed Renewed heat, I give An epiphany Not perfect but beautiful I know, I love - me
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Blue By Anonymous I once had a friend, She was giggly and her laughter was my greatest joy. She’s gone now but I still sit on our bench and I paint like we used to. The sunset, the cotton candy sky and the peaks of the horizon The clouds on a sunny happy day The blue waves splashing against the grainy sand Eyes, the only color anyone ever points out My favorite fruit, blueberries The best jolly rancher, blue raspberry The prettiest flower, blue iris The butterflies are still flying and the bluebirds are still chirping. Days continue to go by and you continue to remain in my memory, you stay but I still feel your life. The way you’d dance like nobody was watching make breakfast like a trained chef Paint like Picasso And stick by my side like we were joined at birth and protecting me meant protecting your family 3
Losing family is losing a piece of yourself I lost you but I found you just as quickly I will never fully lose you and that is now my greatest joy. My comfort when I’m down And my motivator when I feel the weight of the world pushing down on my shoulders And the waves crashing in from every direction Now I sit on our bench and I paint like we used to It’s green with chipped pieces of white On the edge of the beach with mixtures of sand, grass, and gravel at our feet It looks into the ocean and has a clear view of the mountains. I watch you paint every sunset here. And now I sit on our bench and paint alone but never truly by myself.
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On Coffee And Dew By Annabelle Burg i am okay. today i am okay because i woke up. yesterday i didn’t want to wake up the morning came too soon honey light streaming onto blue walls hitting my face my sleep-filled eyes falling closed again after just a moment of consciousness. but today i am okay today i am okay because i got some coffee and sometimes coffee makes things okay and today i am okay because today the coffee was hot and fresh but two days ago it was cold and the world was frigid and dark as the depths of a lake plagued by the ice of winter and i didn’t know what the hell to do. tomorrow will be a day. so far it’s unknown what may happen. unknown the state of my okay-ness. 5
perhaps tomorrow i’ll wake up to a warm tinted sunrise the touch of rosy-fingered dawn brushing my sleep-filled face. perhaps i will wake up to coffee buttering up the house filling my senses with the smell of morning and when i walk outside the yellowing leaves of the trees on the way to the bus stop will glisten as if the tears of eos herself fell on them weeping from the sky as she once did as sad and sweet as her lost love. and i will sip my coffee and i will think to myself perhaps today just maybe today i will be okay.
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"I don't know exactly what I mean by that but I mean it" - Holden Caulfield (JD Salinger) By Zia Holmes
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Turn-Note By Charlie Houk It had been one week since Eugene had last seen him. William, seemingly Eugene’s friend and fellow, had disappeared after their fight. When the bunker’s entrance had sealed them in and the lights had gone out, Eugene knew that he would have to be ruthless to survive. Later, William’s fists slammed against the metal of the storage room door. For minutes, maybe hours, William clawed and screamed while Eugene cowered, until finally he went silent. Now, Eugene is alone. He has been alone for a week. William hasn’t come back yet, but Eugene knows he’s out there waiting for him under cover of darkness, knife at the ready. Eugene had claimed the resources, the food, water, and gun. He would survive this, or at the very least outlast that bastard. Eugene is sure of this up until the moment that he spills his last gallon jug of water. Nothing is left. It’s a wake up call; Eugene has no other options. He opens the door, braced for an attack. Nothing happens. The halls are a yawning, pitchy labyrinth. Only the sound of Eugene’s footsteps echo through their bowels. His head whips at even the slightest silhouette in the darkness, but there is truly nothing there. Suddenly, something catches his eye. Is that light? Eugene’s grip 8
tightens on the gun as he approaches the distant room. The hairs on his neck prickle, chafing against his cotton shirt. He enters the room, a small stone cell with a dirt floor, a loose ceiling grate, and a ladder. On the ground, there is a note. Scrawled in red ink, it reads, “Good luck out there.”
Ella Jeffries
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From “A Frostbitten Dream” by Nalu Farrell 10
Rubber Boot Reflections By Anonymous Drip Splashing Frigid, wet A growing pool Reflecting the light Boots in muddy puddle Slick yellow coat, a boy laughs Mischievous giggles are shared Sun shines, blue sky, puddle almost dry Boots put back for another rainy day
Ella Jeffries 11
Welcome to Party City By Ella Jeffries I had to remain at the store for extra hours that night to clean up the mess. I wasn’t even the one who had let go of the balloon. Apparently, the culprit was “busy” and couldn’t possibly take on extra time. It was as if everyone assumed that I wouldn’t have any unchangeable plans, not even asking if it would be an inconvenience. I didn’t really mind, though. It was something different than the routine. As I swept up pieces of balloon, I felt a shudder of fear ripple through me. I couldn’t imagine floating around, just living my life, and suddenly being torn to shreds by an innocent-seeming fan. The fear felt sharp. It was electric, but also refreshing. It was the one night out of many I didn’t feel numb. The next day I tied together a bunch of balloons and helped a woman pay for them, gathering the change in my hand and hearing the satisfying clink of the coins. After she was gone, I stood awhile, leaning against the counter lined with air pumps and spools of ribbon, awaiting my next task. I heard the bell at the door ring. A man entered, walking briskly into the store. I couldn’t help but stare at his feet. He wore tan sandals two sizes too small, his gnarly toes hanging over the edges. He walked over to me and asked if he could come behind the counter. I stared at him for a second, puzzled. This wasn’t a normal request, yet I was struck by the coarse scratch of his voice. It sounded like rain against the window of an empty house and the creak of wooden stairs. Unsure of why I was doing so, I nodded my head. The man walked over and stood behind my right shoulder. His mere 12
presence made the air feel heavier, like it was sticky with sweat and rust. As more customers shuffled through and asked for this balloon or that, he followed me back and forth between the two counters, tracking each of my movements. I became almost self-conscious of him as I went about my job, like he was somehow attached to me, a piece of my soul displayed in human form. But none of the customers seemed unsettled by him. I didn’t think much of it since they were all engrossed in planning for this party or that. Yet, I eventually began to question if they could see him at all. “Don’t worry about them not seeing me,” I heard the man whisper in my ear, “they probably don’t really notice you either.” That’s when I realized who he was. Why he seemed so achingly familiar like one’s own eyes in a mirror. It was Loneliness. He went and sat down. Right on the carpeted floor. He grabbed a zip tie from a container on the bottom shelf and began picking his toenails with it. Scraping out guck and grime and shoving it into the carpet, burying it in folds of wool. After he finished his nails, Loneliness continued to sit on the floor and began to hum. A gentle melody, somber and pitiable. I soon felt an overwhelming sadness, a longing for something unattainable. My usual numbness returned. I felt a sudden urge to grab a spool of ribbon from the counter and tie it tighter and tighter around my wrist until I finally felt something. Then Loneliness stopped humming. The feeling passed and I returned to work, filling empty balloons with metallic confetti. After a few minutes, Loneliness tired of the floor and I watched him set the zip tie he had used for his nails back in its container. I turned away, 13
allowing my brain to settle on how I’d have to clean those later. All of a sudden he was at my shoulder again. I hadn’t even heard him stand up. But he was there. I could feel it in the air—could see his shadow on the counter in front of me. I shifted to look at him and we made eye contact for the first time. I looked away and began turning to watch the glass doors. Just then he grabbed my cheek and roughly moved my head back to face him. His hand felt clammy and humid on my skin and my breathing began to quicken. He didn’t let go. I was about to try and squirm away when a glimmer of something in his pupils caught my attention. Then, with a flash, a scene unfolded right in the dark of his eyes. It was a scrapbook of experiences—my experiences. I was at my fifth birthday party. My parents cutting a cake for me while trying to sneak concerned looks at one another. They were wondering why no one in my kindergarten class had wanted to come to my party. Their minds were racing with a cocktail of confusion mixed with guilt. They didn’t know the truth. I had merely been too nervous to invite anyone. It flashed again and I was at a family Thanksgiving. I was twenty. My aunt was making her usual passive-aggressive comments about my love life to my mother. Why doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Couldn’t she just look for someone? Surely there’s someone out there who wouldn’t mind dating her. I mean, she’s pretty enough... her words started to pile up. They tasted coarse and bitter. Then I was in the store again, but it was one year ago and the customers were asking me whether most parties had regular balloons or confetti-filled ones, and I had to admit that I had no clue, but as far as I could remember, more people purchased the confetti ones? The scene melted away and I was back in the present. Loneliness 14
was retreating, breaking the connection. A sense of regret weighed down on my shoulders, squashing me. Then I felt something new. Something so clear and crisp it was almost delectable. “Get the hell out!” I yelled at Loneliness. “Get out of this store!” He looked frightened, as if Confrontation had been his enemy all along. He gazed down at his shoes before nodding his head and slipping out the door. In an instant, the air felt lighter and cooler. I breathed it in and sighed, feeling oddly at ease. I heard the familiar chime of the bell and refocused on my job. There was a new customer to attend to, more balloons to fill and prepare. “Welcome to Party City!” I said brightly when they came over to my counter. “How may I help you?”
Katie Drais 15
Dirty Laundry By Anonymous I am dull. I feel wrung out like an old washcloth used to clean a mess I didn't make. I am silent, cold and closed. Others use me as their basket to dump their worries into, like dirty laundry. But I am overflowing. However, she is the one who washes me clean.
Katie Drais
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His Thin Lipless Smile By Cassandra B. Clemons The stiff bed beneath my body The mechanical eye surveying The concerned box of light Flickering with anxiety I wait as he enters, the sorrowsworn bearer I see it in the corner, a thought of looming pain Its gaunt tired eyes know the routine I knew it all too well. His thin lipless smile is the first I see A condescending terror in all that be An affirmation to “just have faith” But how can I trust a man such as he I see it again, after he leaves. Its jaw is pinched, its hands too large Its emaciated husk tries to warn from beyond its bars But no sound escapes our twisted figure None at all Once again he returns with his thin lipless smile He punctures my skin to withdraw my sweet crimson He tells me he has all of the wisdom “An expert is needed for an expert opinion” I only hear the words he says 17
It is bound by chains of fear Its pocked skin knows these walls all too well It is locked in a cage of anxiety It knows not how to help Thrice more he returns And thrice more he does say Take this, we can only hope it will make your devils go away “You may return home” he proclaims But I know it shall not be staying that way Like a loyal hound it stays by my side Its horrific nature balanced by mine own pride I watch as it knowingly asks me to stop But his thin lipless smile tell me not what I’ve wrought For seven long hours my world does stand still No sight, no sound, no sense but to feel I dread the thought of returning to him But his thin lipless smile keeps drawing me in Its skin cracked as a porcelain doll It tells me of the horror of all I knew all along what this should be But I trusted him to work tirelessly The men and black suits The claims of insanity 18
The bonds breaking themselves I cry for humanity He He with his thin lipless smile He with his foolish unearned denial He fed us words made of gold He may have caught us longer had it not been so bold To which I left, my condition less weary And he may laugh at me now But all words can be golden in theory
Katie Drais 19
It Happened When I Was Nine By Wendy Amador Stay in your car Smoke a cigar, play some guitar, it doesn’t matter what you do, but stay in your car. Don’t open that door. Please, just stay in your car.
If they come to your house, ask them who they are. It doesn’t matter if they’re scary, keep that piece of cheap redwood between your ear and the avatar. Don’t speak English? Ask your daughter to translate the warrant. I must repeat myself, don’t open that door.
Check the signature on the page, your name, the address If they ask questions, don’t say yes. Ask for a lawyer.
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I knew someone once who opened that door. His daughter was my best friend. We’d play barbies in the hall and talk about our mothers’ folklore. But not law. No, we never did talk about that. Maybe if we had, her father would not have been gone for over a year. I was there. When the black SUV was waiting that morning. It was 6 a.m. and the car’s windows were darker than a winter morning in Seattle. He didn’t know they’d be there. I still remember the fear in his eyes. He knew it was I.C.E. I was too young and naïve to understand what that meant. Powerless. A morbid feeling, I never did shake. No one dared ask what he saw in those camps. But he returned another man.
So I beg you, don’t open that door Please, just stay in your car.
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Cracked By Lex Capestany The pavement bears the wounds of time A root bound by stone struggles to break free. The concrete is peppered with gum, ground into the rock from decades of footsteps. The sidewalk knows all. If you listen close enough you can hear its stories. Races have been won here. Punches have been thrown. Children have played. The street is but an observer, free of judgment. It is unmoving, static, yet defined by motion.
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Student (in the style of “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid) By Anonymous Be sure to pack all of your books in your backpack the night before so you can be ready to leave in the morning; be sure to eat a healthy breakfast to give you energy for the day; be sure to get your homework done on the bus and don’t get distracted; are you bringing your lunch to school or buying it today?; be sure to show up on time to make a good impression on your teachers; be sure to join clubs so you meet new people and make friends; be sure to turn your homework in on time and get good grades; be sure to space out your studying so you remember the material better; do you know what you want to do after college? that’s okay, you still have plenty of time to figure it out; how are your classes going?; be sure to get nine hours of sleep every night; the end of the year is coming up, be sure that you have all A’s; congratulations on your 4.0 GPA, we’re so proud of you; don’t worry, sophomore year will be harder than freshman year but not as hard as junior year; be sure to attend these summer camps to get a PE credit; be sure to show up on time to make a good impression on your teachers; be sure to get your homework done on the bus and not get distracted; do you know what you want to do after college? that’s okay, you still have time to figure it out; don’t start slacking off just because you’re online now; do you even go to school at this point?; the end of the year is coming up, be sure that you have all A’s; congratulations on your 4.0 GPA, we’re so proud of you; be sure to enjoy your summer now, junior year is going to be hard; are you just going to sit around on your phone all day?; everywhere is closed, what else am I supposed to do?; do you know what you want to do after 23
college? that’s fine, you have some time left to figure it out; take a sixth honors class instead of that elective, it’ll look better on your transcript; take this science elective instead of your study hall since you obviously don’t need it; how are your classes going?; be sure to develop relationships with your teachers so they can write recommendations for you; be sure to put in your best effort this year because it’s the most important one; don’t post that, colleges might see it; the end of the year is coming up, what’s this A- in history? you’re going to get that up, right?; be sure to stay strong, you’ve got this; I’m trying to, it’s just a hard class; you’re almost done with junior year; you wanted me to take hard classes, right?; a 3.97 GPA is still great, we’re so proud of you; you deserve a restful summer; have you started on your essays yet?; don’t I get to enjoy my summer?; be sure to get a parking pass because I am not driving you to school; take this summer course, it’ll look good for colleges; are you sure you can manage all of these activities? you’re going to be very busy; where do you want to go for college?; do you know where you are applying to yet?; you need to think about that, you don’t have much time left to figure it out; how are your essays going?; do you like your teachers?; be sure to stay on top of your homework; do not select “undecided” for your career goal, you have to think of something; do not say you want to work in college, it makes it seem like you need the money; colleges like families that have money; November 1st is coming up, are you going to have everything ready by then?; you’re going to stay on top of your grades this year, right?; do you have your parking pass?; how are your essays going?; are you really going to eat that whole thing by yourself?; how come you never want to come downstairs and talk to us? how do you already have a D?; be sure to 24
get enough sleep; if you don’t get enough sleep, everything else will fall off; but what if I don’t exactly know what I want to do? you mean to say that after all this you are really going to be the kind of person that doesn’t know exactly what you want to do?
Top: Katie Drais, Bottom: Ella Jeffries 25
A Point In Time By Anonymous The air is cold, and bitter, harsh, and rough on my skin I am cold and bitter, harsh, and tired of the this day My shoes are muddy, once white and gleaming Now they are a permanent shade of grey I am grey myself, drained of energy My vision looks blurred and fuzzy My brain has become scattered A fractured puzzle of a mind Not broken yet though There is no time I can remember When time In its glory It was not crooked but Straight Lined and Made sense At the time, All of the time And now I don't I wish I could have Known it at the time And now, in this place
Where time is a legend Always taken, always gone I find that all I want is to rest That is all I need. Just a few minutes A few more minutes to sleep, and my brain Broken, scattered, could attempt to repair itself.
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Photography By Katie Drais
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Photography By Katie Drais
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The Last Day Before Summer By Anonymous The sun poured through the window, slowing us like flies in amber. I realized someone was speaking. A humming in the thick honey glow. The buzz was indecipherable, but I could make out her image. I knew her hair was brown, but swimming through here it looked like twenty-four karats. I knew her too; I did a science report with her last year. She was very pretty. It was hard to turn my head away, the golden gravity ever pulling, so I didn’t. I let it hold me, let it weigh me down. She had stopped speaking; the reverberating murmur was no longer her voice; but others. I could see the freckles that dotted her nose when she turned attentively to the teacher. I noticed that last year, the soft dusting across her face, like stars. When glucose meets moisture it creates hydrogen bonds causing a change in electron charge, the science report came back to me. This causes the molecules to cling to surrounding particles. That must be why her hair was all bunched up like that, hydrogen bonds in sticky molasses illuminating her face with a halo from the sun. Or maybe it was just her hair tie.
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Shadows and Faeries By Anonymous Across the desert dreamscape A faerie sways in the tall grass Framed by the passing wind Watching the ash fall In the chasm of volcanic rock The vast abyss seemingly endless Shadows growing deeper Around a faerie shrouded in mist Sleeping amongst a pile of the dead Fears forgotten and abandoned Laying in the castle ruins Hidden in the shadows A trick of the light the humans say Of the shadows They will never understand
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Our Team Co-Editors in Chief: -
Ella J. (2022) Zola M. (2022)
Faculty Advisor: -
Kevin Kimura
Contributing Editors: -
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Ally P. (2022) Annabelle B. (2022) Arundati I. (2022) Wendy A. (2022) Calvin L. (2023) Dylan K. (2024) Grace H. (2024) Rocket D. (2024) Sienna S. (2024)
