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Issue IV

LITERARY MAGAZINE WINTER 2023

VOLUME IV under the sea

Listen Magazine is a biannual literary journal by the students at Statesboro High School in Statesboro, Georgia. Listen offers a platform for creative student voices and encourages open-mindedness through introspection and listening. It is dedicated to the frontiers of experimentation, transcending conventional forms to encourage free-thinking. All genres of original, unpublished writing, photography, and visual art are considered for publication.

The reading period for the 2023 Fall issue ran from September 1st to November 28th. All submissions were given blind adjudication. Materials and general questions can be submitted to our email shslistenmag@gmail.com.

Instagram: @shsmagazine

MASTHEAD CLUB SPONSOR Mrs. Jennifer Calhoun

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Erin Shen

VICE PRESIDENT Carley Peden

ART EDITORS Callie Barger Rylee Martindale-Rushing Rishi Shah Ivana Casuso Sophia Pellegrino Gabby Devine Annabelle Jaeckel Claire Burton PHOTOGRAPHY EDITORS Ivana Casuso Audrey Clifton Eli Compton Will James Abby Smith STEM EDITORS Will James Eli Compton Sanan Khairabadi Ivana Casuso

POETRY EDITORS Gabby Devine Annalia Small Sanan Khairabadi Ann Parker Samoria Reedy PROSE EDITORS Ann Parker Samoria Reedy Annalia Small Sanan Khairabadi Sophia Pellegrino Eli Compton Callie Barger SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS Carley Peden* Beyoncé Moreno Angulo Abby Smith 5

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Welcome back, readers! I'm amazed to share that Listen is now turning four, and the fourth issue of our magazine is ready for publication. With a team of over 15 editors, we've worked efficiently, and I take pride in our collaborative effort in meeting deadlines. This past year, we've collectively strived to maintain our social media presence, initiated new ventures like our user-friendly website, and carefully chosen a theme for our latest issue. For Issue IV, I am pleasantly surprised to receive over 60 submissions, making the selection process challenging. Similar to the last issue, I'm genuinely impressed by the quality of art and writing we've had the privilege to interact with. The Issue’s theme "Under The Sea" has yielded a diverse range of submissions that I find truly astonishing. We recommended everyone use this as inspiration, and the creativity stirred by this prompt has blown me away. "Under the Sea" prompted profound explorations by contributors like Oladasoyin Lawoyin, whose piece "Monster" skillfully navigates the complexities of societal challenges and hidden fears. In parallel, the art section's "Spilling Over" delves into submerged feelings, using the sea metaphorically to explore uncharted depths within us. Adding a historical perspective, Will James' nonfiction piece, "Whatever happened to the Titanic Submarine?" intertwines literal sea exploration with the intrigue of a famous maritime incident, offering readers a thought-provoking essay. Meanwhile, Mrs. Shannon Anderson's Jekyll Island photography visually explores hidden treasures beneath the surface, complementing the metaphorical depth in each piece. The magazine's global reach, including submissions from Georgia, enriches the thematic exploration, showcasing diverse perspectives. I'm genuinely grateful for this thought-provoking collection and look forward to the magazine's impact within and beyond the school community. Thank you to all contributors, editors, and your readership and we hope to see you again at our Issue V Publication coming this spring! Sincerely, Erin Shen 7

CONTENTS

POETRY

PROSE

MONSTER.

A SHORT EXCERPT AFTER “THE FALLING DANCE”

Oladasoyin Lawoyin

OUT

Gabby Devine

THE OTHER DAY

Rylee Martindale-Rushing

KINFOLK

Corina Huang

TWO POEMS

Nyana Carnes

BEAUTY IN BEAST

Azieyah Atkins

DANCING LIKE IN THE MOVIES

Trinity Roberson

GOODBYE

Samoria Reedy

Erin Shen

LIVING FOR LIAM

Sanan Khairabadi

SUBMERGED

Anonymous

LEMON-COLORED SHARDS OF SUNSHINE

Mariam Bukia

RESEARCH WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE TITANIC SUBMARINE

Will James

GENERAL ZAROFF’S ADAPTIVE FAILURE Annalia Small

FOG

Jester Ellison

LET THE LIGHT IN Anonymous

ART

PHOTOGRAPHY

SPILLING OVER

FEATHERS

Lan Cleeve

Audrey Clifton

MONKEY

ONLY ANGEL

Annabelle Jaeckel

Shannon Anderson

ENDLESS

BEYOND THE SHORE

Claire Burton

Shannon Anderson

COMPANIONS

PEDALING

Abby Quinn

Callie Barger

TIMELESS

SOLIDARY

Claire Burton

Shannon Anderson

TEAPOT

A PEPPER HARVEST

Rylee Martindale-Rushing

Ivana Casuso

SEASCAPE

BUSTLING

Alice Cho

Abby Quinn

BARK AND SURF BLISS

PET FEATURE OF THE ISSUE

Abby Quinn

DRESSED IN FASHION Abby Quinn

MISS MAGNOLIA (MAGGIE) Ann Parker

ELSA

Rylee Martindale-Rushing

Spilling Over Lan Cleeve

Monster.

Oladasoyin Lawoyin

The creature scurrying through the night Looming under beds and cracks and corners Kicking chairs and cutting hair Leaving others toys beyond repair That is a child's monster But where do the monsters go throughout the day? Or once the children grow up and go away?

An adult would say they go away But why do they always

Blame The Mon Ster.

They tell tales of monsters in the shadows Making them take a drink. Or two. Or four. Making them bet through nights galore Still they Deny Deny Deny Denying the monster until the storm comes

Looming over the horizon As they stare in the eyes of those disolluded

The monster suddenly appears The one who Bet Eviscerated Abased Sabotaged Threatened That was all the monster they weep All people blame the monster

The same one who awaited under the bed at night The same one who gave them fright Adults and children alike Blame. The. Mon Ster. The creature of our deceit A raging bull Scampering quiet as a mouse In the walls of our society

Children are told stories of the monsters that scurry and trudge through the night. The scaly, poly-eyed, and tailed creatures that walk within the night. As adults, they shed this belief of monsters. For there are more “important” monsters to view, the economy, politicians, climate change, civil rights, and wars. These are the monsters of the adult world. But what of the monsters that lie in the in-between? The monsters' adults have refused to shed. The monsters adults have created. There is always a new monster, sometimes it is a group. Sometimes an individual.

FEATHERS Audrey Clifton

OUT Gabby Devine Teeth Claws Biting Scratching in my chest It wants out Out OUT But it can’t It’s in my head I feel it in my gut out Out OUT I feel it while I’m in bed As I lay with the lights out Out OUT It’s not real Not physical, anyway The pain But still, I feel it It tells me to hide I’ve failed, I must run Get out Out

OUT I’m doing it wrong There’s no fixing it I must avoid it, get out Out OUT Like I’m drowning in it The thoughts, the feeling I wanna scream Like teeth, gnawing on my guts Claws, scratching to get out Out OUT But it will be okay

At the end of the day, it was never solid It’s all in my head My chest My stomach It will go away In morning light, I will forget But for now, I sit And I keep it in.

ONLY ANGEL Shannon Anderson

THE OTHER DAY Rylee Martindale - Rushing

The other day you talked to me. Asked me how I was. You started the conversation, not me. A year ago I would’ve freaked out, I would’ve struggled to get a word out, But it just felt like we were old friends catching up.

The other day you looked my way And you smiled. You looked my way first, not me. A year ago I would’ve freaked out, I would’ve struggled to stay around, But it felt we were old friends just catching up.

And I know it’s delusional, To think that there was a reason, You looked my way and started that conversation. But until I can convince myself that you were just being nice, I’ll pretend that you really wanted to talk to me. That you went out of your way to speak to me. That you took time out of your day to say something to me. 17

Monkey Annabelle Jaeckel 18

A short excerpt after “The falling dance” by Pina Bausch

Erin Shen

Tonight, the light on the spit of asphalt was gleaming against a bruising sky. The streets were quiet enough to hear the scuffles of a short-winded man whose whistling tunes contained a touch of nicety unseen in his house. At home, he shares the apartment with an artist whose enigmatic, bright, and dripping drawings unsettle the old man’s peace of mind. He would fume at the scarlet streaks left on the floors while the artist would muse by his side when he was called to clean them off. “You need to exhume meaning from life. Colorful strokes are needed amidst the bleakness of this house. Tell me to clean up when there’s actually a mess.” The house was, indeed, a monochromatic raindrop that held everything in. The sunken eye-like windows and the bookshelf on the walls are all sinking to the right. The old man would tread around the house carefully, observing and fixing the defects of the house constantly. He would be doing one thing and be distracted by another. He would fill the dents on the walls just as he notices the chairs. Quickly, he would remove the pipes from the kitchen sink and tie them around the leg until the crack would be unseen. Pleased, he would leave to fix his car’s tire that had a nail while in the corner, the kitchen sink would leak silently onto the wooden floors. In the garage, the old man pulled the nail out and found it leaking air. He grabbed the air pump and started pumping it until it was full and pompous. Leaving the tools behind, he strutted back inside, abandoning the tire to deflate once again– a few centimeters behind his back. Upon entrance, he heard the artist’s groans and saw the water pooling from the kitchen. Confused, the old man wandered further into his house and saw the water was tinted red by the artist’s paint. The old man had had enough of the artist’s sloppiness. Ready to lecture, the old man headed to find the artist until after a few steps, he saw him lying in the water. The old man rushed the artist to the hospital. 10 minutes down the road, the car started slowing down, and this confounded the old man. He looked over to his friend and propped up his head only to see the streaks of blood down the grey nylon seats, and for a second, he remembered the words Colorful strokes are needed amidst the bleakness of this house. Tell me to clean up when there’s actually a mess. He looked deep into the closed eyes of the artist, and he realized it was time for him to embrace these streaks of vitality. He placed his finger under the artists’ nostril and checked its breathing. Feeling something, he wiped his tears, feeling relieved. And giggling, the old man skipped back to his home. 19

ENDLESS Claire Burton 20

KINFOLK Corina Huang

The blood that runs through your veins also run in mine We have the same eyes nose and hair Yet we are rivals from the womb Your triumphs are my demons They haunt me under you shadow They laugh and linger Though sometimes Every now and then They leave You arrive We stand eye to eye an unseen invitation Asking for peace Somehow we comply We free our anger Stitch our wounds Rake our memories Because there are no boundaries Only unmoving silence And the miracle to forgive

BEYOND THE SHORE Shannon Anderson

SUBMERGED Anonymous

The world thinks in black and white, and the only thing keeping them apart is the height you have to jump to get to the other side; if you try to fly, then you’ll get shot out of the sky. This world has no color, from one sad person to another; and even with a mask on, you can see the eyes trying to hide the lies that were told when they were young. This world lost its dreams, and even though you hope and pray nothing goes your way, it seems no one tells you you’re special or smart when you follow your heart; you have to use your head. I feel dead; this whole world says you have to push to be the best, but when there’s a knife in your chest from all the pain they gave you, what can you do but listen to the screams of the fallen family and foes in this endless chain? What is the point you have to get a great job for your gray life? And even when you prove to be a better daughter or wife, they tell you to stay in your place, don’t curve the line you feel alive until they say that you’re fine.

Pedaling Callie Barger 24

LIVING FOR LIAM

Sanan Khairabadi

June 19th, 1940 It’s June 19th, 1940. The Nazis invaded France forty days ago. Ever since, our home went from a lively, joyous environment to a silent asylum with no familiar sense of security. Even the weather seemed to sway from what was once clear and calming skies to a gray and lifeless horizon. The refreshing rays of the radiant sun that once warmed France was long gone, seemingly locked up in a cell far away. The house that we once called home was uncannily silent. There was no need for words to be spoken to understand why. Everyone was anxious about what fate the country would be facing in the upcoming days. Or, almost everyone. Although my brother, Liam, was not fully aware of the terror going on, even he could feel the ominous fog that covered the entire country. When the Nazis took over, our parents were ready. They had loaded up on plenty of supplies, first aid kits, and food. Oh, and they also implemented a long list of strict rules that Liam and I were to follow. The main rules were no games, no distractions, and most importantly, no wandering off. It was as if the new rules had changed the playful mood of the house, confirming everyone’s biggest nightmare. Liam and I tried not to let these rules affect us too much. We tried keeping each other’s spirits up. But as time went on, things got more riskier and more serious. None of us would admit, but we were starting to lose hope. It wasn’t until this day, on June 19th, 1940, things would change. It was early morning, and I was peacefully asleep despite the chaos going on somewhere in the country. I began to gain consciousness when I felt a hand shaking me awake. I flopped to my back, opening my eyes to see a mischievous smile greet me. “Liam, go back to sleep,” I muttered, beginning to get annoyed that he had woken me up. He ignored my plea and instead yelled in my face, “MOM AND DAD ARE GONE!” A wave of panic surged through me when I heard this, my brain filling in the blanks of why with the intrusive thoughts I had acquired when the Nazis took over. But the wave passed by as soon as it rose when he said, “They went out to get more wood for the fireplace,” he said, excitement bursting through him. “Do you know what this means?” I rolled my eyes, “No, I don’t,”. But then it dawned on me what he was suggesting. My eyes widened, and Liam started to beg. “Please!” he begged, determination aching through him. “No, forget it. You know the risks, Liam,” I frown in disbelief that he would suggest it. I knew he didn’t fully understand what was going on and why, but he knew the risks of leaving the house, especially just to play outside. The determination he wore faded as soon as he saw my face. “I knew you would say that,” he whispered. I sat up, shifting uncomfortably as I saw a tear drop from his eye. I turned away, feeling terrible. I had lost much of my childhood because of the war. I grew up quickly, having to accept responsibilities dumped on me, not understanding why. I refused to let Liam go through the confusion that I did, but it was growing harder and harder to shield him from the aura of the war each day. “Okay,” a voice said. I froze, startled when I realized it was mine. I turned, wide-eyed, to look at Liam. His eyes lit up in disbelief, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up, grinning at me. I tried smiling back, struggling to wipe the confounded look off my face. I didn’t have time to reconsider the impulsive and rash decision I had made. Liam was already running out the door. A second passed as I stood dumbfounded, staring at where my brother had just been standing, before I took off after him. I run out the door in time to see Liam disappear behind a large pine tree. I hastened after him, desperate not to let him farther out of my sight. I screeched to a stop as I stepped on a branch, mentally telling myself to be more careful. I also told myself to never let Liam guilt trip me into doing something again. I finally catch up to him when he abruptly stops. I grab his arm, whisper shouting, “Are you crazy?! Do you know how dangerous it was to take off without me?” He turned to look at me, and smiled crookedly. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I clamp my hand over his mouth, glaring.

“I think you’ve had enough time outside. We’re going back,” I decide. Liam wrestles my hand off his mouth, before he whispers, “We’ve already come this far. Can we just spend a few more minutes out here? Please, Benjamin?” he pleads. “Besides, do you even know where we are?” I sigh in defeat, realizing I have failed whatever responsibility I had over Liam. Giving up, I decide to enjoy myself while I can. I tilt my head up, my eyes wandering across the forest as I take in the scenery that surrounds us. Tall and towering pine trees surround us, their leaves covering the sky, enclosing us in viridescent colors. The dirt brown color of the tree trunks evened out the vegetation. A refreshing, bright light seeped through the leaves of the trees. The chirping of the birds is almost calming, in contrast to the so far stressful morning I had endured. It was almost as if the mere idea of war was impossible. Some time passed by before I heard the noise of rattling leaves. My head snaps towards the direction of the noise, before turning to look at Liam. His eyes are wild in fear. I shake my head, muttering under my breath, “No, no, no…” Maybe it’s just an animal, I think hopefully. As we stood there frozen, the rattling began to grow louder and louder. I grab Liam’s arm, moving slowly and as quietly as possible. “We have to be very careful,” I whispered furiously. Liam nodded, terrified. In the next steps Liam and I took, it was almost as if the air was a thin sheet of ice. My breaths were ragged, my heart was beating rapidly, threatening to burst out of my chest. It didn’t help when I felt Liam’s arm rip apart from mine. I turn around in time to see Liam’s face. His eyes were wide in hysterics, as he panicked, struggling to break free of the soldier’s grasp. Horror struck, I cried out, “Liam! Let him go!” I was paralyzed, unable to advance towards him, or reach out for his arm. I stared at him as he screamed, reaching for me. Before I could do anything else, we were separated. Maybe if I had paid attention to how the birds had stopped chirping, we could have made it out. Maybe nothing would have happened if we didn’t wander far off. Or maybe, none of this would have happened in the first place if I had been more careful. I had failed Liam, I thought. The thought rang over and over in my head as I was dragged away from my brother. June 19th, 1945 It was June 19th, 1945. It had been five years since Liam was taken from me. I had no idea of what would become of him, or where his whereabouts were if he was still alive. I had gone through almost four excruciating years in the Holocaust, managing to escape the dreadful concentration camps. I had made it my goal to find Liam. After I had escaped, I went back to my home, relieved to find my parents there. When I told them about how Liam and I were captured, I expected them to be disgusted. What I did not expect was a tearful hug. They told me I shouldn’t let it bother me, and that we would find Liam eventually. But I still couldn’t help but feel the guilt creeping through me. June 19th, 1950 It was June 19th, 1945. Ten years had gone by since Liam and I were separated. I can still remember the day in vivid detail. I still had not found Liam yet, but I wouldn’t give up. It still burns when I meet the pitiful eyes of my family, telling me it’s no use searching. They say it’s unlikely Liam would still be alive, but I will not give up. I know there’s still hope. It took almost ten years, but I had overcome the guilt of the past. I decided I was going to do something Liam did not have the chance to do. I was going to live.

A PEPPER HARVEST Ivana Casuso

BEAUTY IN BEAST Azieyah Atkins

The mind can be a disease within itself It can be the killer of its own murder The villain in its own fairytale The mind can be gloomy and peculiar Causing intense suspense A grand beauty it is Something unique and eccentric Something terrible and abhorrent This beautiful creature can cause you pain and pleasure Trick your senses into some kind of twisted fantasy Be grateful of this fine beauty with its obvious flaws For many don’t have a beauty They have a beast Although a beast can become a beauty A beauty can still become a beast For the mind needs you and you need the mind Let it eat this information for dessert Let it digest and leave behind nutrients Nutrients that’ll help you understand and to not only understand But to feel and know this is mostly all in your hands 28

SOLIDARY Shannon Anderson

Fog Jester Ellison I could taste the fog as it circled around me. As it sprinkled morning dew on the dead leaves beneath my bare feet, it stole their satisfactory crunch. The forest’s trees were thick, creating an illusion of the heavens while they fought to hide the sun’s golden rays. The entire wood seemed so vigorous, absolutely buzzing with life. Yet… it was so quiet. So busy and vivacious, but so peaceful. As if I were watching a great artist at work, the colors were painted before me. The trees’ reds, yellows, browns, and oranges dripped onto the forest floor, giving me a pathway to life. Not a thing could bother me, nor did I bother anything in return. It was almost as if the forest was its own world outside of ours. Outside the greed of humanity. I sighed, my breath vaporizing in the crisp air. It was heavy, almost melancholy. I knew it had only become so tranquil after I had died.

DANCING LIKE IN THE MOVIES Trinity Roberson I loving dancing It’s my sign of happiness But with a purpose Love Only in the movies Unforgettable ones With the warmest feel Perfect love story I watched these movies Longing for that feeling It has so much love So I dance Dance in hope for this longing feeling A true love that only exist in movies Fairytales I see Why so perfect Why can’t i receive this “true” love Like dancing in the rain Late night adventures Something surreal Sad reality it isn’t perfect That feeling isn’t visible Only seen and exist in movies Disappointing I want a love like in the movies So I will keep dancing

TIMELESS Claire Burton

LET THE LIGHT IN Anonymous

As the sun sets, the colors that once streamed through the window blinds gradually lose their vibrancy. An otherworldly spectacle captures every ounce of attention in the sky. The seamless blend of orange, pink, and blue creates a masterpiece on an infinite canvas. Yet, as this soothing portrait unfolds into darkness, a subtle discomfort permeates the air. A sudden realization dawns, and bitterness lingers on my lips without a trace of the fruit that caused it—an elusive mirage reminiscent of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Fear, worry, and indecision surface like an impending storm. Abruptly, the fog of confusion dissipates, making way for the entrance of faith. Even in the face of insurmountable challenges, loneliness proves to be a fleeting illusion. The fruit and darkness reveal themselves as mere shadows in the absence of light—a deceptive ploy meant to divert me from my journey, a trail designed to test my resolve. Opting for a different path, I embrace the light. I choose to confront spiritual battles and attain peace. The light becomes the way, the truth, and the essence of life. Therefore, welcome the light in.

BUSTLING Abby Smith 34

TWO POEMS

TW: vulgar language used

Nyana Carnes

You say you hate the rain, but storms always seem to hit when you come crawling back. You say you hate the pain; however, pain is the only thing you never seem to lack. You're stuck in a cycle between better or worse, and you always seem to choose worse. You're trapped in an endless loop and keep doing things you'll never be able to reverse. Excuses upon excuses. "I'm sorry, I really am!" However, you continue to do the same things, and no, you don't really give a damn. When will it be enough for you? When will you stop the fight? I'm battling between hating you and hating myself for not being able to. I'm sick of the rain. I'm sick of the pain. I'm sick of never knowing why. As a river flows, It begins to change. And that is why rivers, Never stay the same. And just like a river, My currents shift each day. And the way I am right now, May not remain. So if you're searching For the girl I used to be, She was washed away. All the way out to sea.

TEAPOT Rylee Martindale- Rushing

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE TITANIC SUBMARINE? Will James Five people were missing after a submarine trip down to the Titanic, we heard right after the submarine and all passengers went missing. But what happened to the submarine and who were the passengers on board? On June 18, 2023, the submarine named Titan was sent from the ship The Polar Prince to explore the remains of the Titanic and look for decay and artifacts. However, the submarine never reached the Titanic and lost connection with the ship. What happened on that day and why did the submarine lose connection? Before we can understand what happened to the submarine we have to understand who was on the submarine. According to Scientific American, the Titan was 22 feet and each passenger paid $250,000 for a ticket. This submarine was owned by OceanGate whose CEO Stockton Rush served as the pilot. The other passengers were Paul-Henri Nargeolet, a French maritime expert, two businessmen Hamish Harding and Shahzada Dawood, and Dawood’s son Suleman. The Polar Prince sailed 900 miles from Newfoundland and dropped the submarine around 8 am. According to Independent, the submarine was supposed to send a ping to the ship to indicate its location every 15 minutes and the last ping went off at 10 am. After the ping stopped that begged the question of what happened to stop the signal. This started search efforts for days around the area where the submarine was set to travel. On Thursday it was announced that the oxygen in the submarine would have just run out by Thursday and there was still no sign of the submarine. Later Thursday a remotely controlled submarine found a debris pile with broken up pieces of the submarine and all on board were confirmed dead. The debris was found nearly 1,600 feet from the bow of the Titanic. Scientists and researchers found that it was an implosion that led to the submarine dissipating into the ocean along with the travelers. Scientific American explains that the “pressures increase to about 375 atmospheres, or the equivalent of 5,500 pounds of force pressing in on every square inch of an object’s surface” explaining how the implosion could be possible. This caused many including the team on the ground to wonder how this happened. U.S. Coast Guard Rear Adm. John Mauger was on the ground and said, “there’s a lot of questions about why, how, when this happened” to show that even the researchers are puzzled by this implosion. This implosion and understanding of what happened on Sunday, June 18, 2023, raises many questions about safety measures that companies use. However science is unique in that it does not let setbacks like these end exploration but makes it better by making it safer and better for the future. The scientific community can look back on this experience and use it to call for safer practices in exploring underwater areas. The implosion of this submarine is a tragedy for those five who lost their lives but it will not end in tragedy but in good for all future generations as the problems are solved through science and this tragedy is prevented from ever happening again.

Seascape Alice Cho

GOODBYE Samoria Reedy

In the realm of graduation, where paths diverge, Choices await, like whispers on the verge. A tearful farewell, but a hopeful embrace, As we embark on a journey at our own pace. With cap and gown, we bid our school adieu. The memories we've made, forever in view. Yet tears may fall, as we leave the known, For in this moment, our true strength is shown. The future awaits, a canvas yet to be painted, Dreams and ambitions, eagerly awaited. With each choice we make, a new chapter unfolds. As we navigate the story, our destiny holds. Amidst the uncertainty, courage takes flight, As we chase our passions, with all our might. Though tears may flow, like a gentle rain, They water the seeds of growth, amidst the pain. So let us embrace the tears that may fall, For they're a reminder, we've given our all. In the choices we make, we find our way, And create a future, where our dreams hold sway.

BARK AND SURF BLISS Abby Quinn 40

GENERAL ZAROFF’S ADAPTIVE FAILURE

Annalia Small

The general is a character surrounded by irony. Some is more apparent (the theme of Darwinism), and some is more subtle (his affinity for Marcus Aurelius’s works). In effect, his ultimate unwillingness to adapt and to exist in accordance with nature reveals General Zaroff as not the clever vanquisher but rather the proud vanquished. Marcus Aurelius’s writings involve his devotion to Stoicism, which encourages living in accordance with nature. When General Zaroff was forced to leave Europe for the Caribbean after the war, he did not leave behind his traditional European amenities that came with being a noble. He still has a servant, and he imports champagne, clothes, and food from Europe. Both he and his servant, Ivan, wear their heavy, imported clothes in the hot jungle of the Caribbean when hunting Rainsford. The general continues his traditional style by living in a “palatial chateau” complete with “pointed towers” and “tall spiked iron gate[s]” (Connell 65). All of this points to the fact that the general refuses to live in accordance with nature, completely and ironically violating the works of Aurelius, which he so casually reads. When Rainsford dines with General Zaroff, he hears him speak of hunting men. Within this discourse, the general says, “The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift?” (Connell 70). His belief in Darwinism is proved with this statement, as is his belief that he is the hunter and the strong. However, he ironically loses his status when he becomes the hare beaten by the tortoise. Repeatedly, the general goes home to dine, rest, and smoke his imported and fragranced cigarettes after making a witty remark to Rainsford. In many of these situations, if the general had only pursued Rainsford beyond his habits, he would have caught his prey. But, because of his stubbornness and his superiority complex, he loses to the smartest prey he has ever hunted. In effect, the general dooms himself by not adapting to a changed environment and a changed game. In conclusion, General Zaroff rested on his laurels. Because of this, he became subtly careless. He ignored the signs around him that insisted he adapt. He chose to stay the same, but Rainsford did not. That is why Rainsford won the game and the general did not. 41

DRESSED IN FASHION Abby Quinn 42

Mariam Bukia

Lemon-colored shards of sunshine She wore beautiful velvet dresses, and I was always fascinated by her calm, harmonious sway on the ever-patient wooden terrace of the sunny house. All of this reminded me of the scale of life, and she was the only person who could be on one side of life sometimes and on another at other times. She was the only person far from time, not wearing a wristwatch. By the way, she taught me how to tell time on a watch. I listened attentively, and when, filled with enthusiasm, I proudly told her and myself that I had recognized the arrangement of the clock hands at half-past six, she asked me in an unusually calm voice never to use a watch. No, this was unusually quiet for me, and she lived with this brilliant beacon all her life. Even now, I see myself clearly, and even now I feel my little eyes widen, but I smiled. She smiled at me too. I keep this moment in my memory as a ray of sunshine and a unique example of sincerity. I remember her colorful blanket delicately woven of threads of happiness, smiles, gold, lavender, and dandelions. I also remember when she showed me a photo of her youth and regretfully noted that it was black and white. Still, I could see her cotton-candy-colored cheeks and blue eyes like the absorbing stream of eternity. I also remember that she stopped my grandfather, who was mowing the lawn when he managed to pluck the only poppy. Then I saw that she kept it in a small box with a bilious expression and put it on the top of the closet, at the farthest point, so that I have not seen it since. I have always believed that life is one open book with a thousand characters. Many are similar to each other, but she was a nightingale, always different, like a fairy who carries magic dust with her and is loved by everyone. I don't know about everyone, but I loved her so much. She was the one who taught me that when you need a dress for a sophisticated meeting and have to choose between black and white, you should always choose yellow! I was always mesmerized by her hair bows tucked away in drawers, glimmering gracefully from a curious but forgotten drawer. As soon as her fingers touched them, both sides fell into the past simultaneously, and the pearls attached to a bracelet and those two beautiful eyes began to shine; this had an amazing, charming power. But the whole glory lay in the fact that this grace revealed itself in absolutely natural details and not in firmly written scenarios, in familiar stories often played out in front of little girls, like the scene of buying ice cream for the child. I never liked people who bought me ice cream because, among the delicious eye-catching ones in the transparent glass refrigerator, they always chose the most expensive one. Among them, I loved vanilla ice cream, and I always equated chocolate with fakeness and with people in general because it is impossible to determine its exact taste—sometimes it is bitter, and sometimes it is the opposite. Here's vanilla—it's always the same, it's irreplaceable, and it leaves the taste of summer syrup and winter snow on the tongue. At this time, I close my eyes and imagine myself unfurling the milky sails with both hands and looking at a flock of seagulls in the sky blue like eternity. They were buying me chocolate ice cream. We both loved vanilla. 43

The most delicious moments were the desserts we made together, captured in a notebook with pages already unrolled and filled with recipes diligently collected a thousand years ago. I marveled at the deliciousness that would come from bringing these drops of ink to life. During these times, we never regretted accidentally breaking an egg or using a disproportionate amount of sugar because too much sweetness in life doesn't hurt anything. I cherished my grandfather's crescent moon smile toward me, which, I know for a fact, was brighter than any celestial body, even though I had never been to the moon before. Both of my grandparents are like the sun scattered in lemon-colored fragments in my mind—they are simple, special, and unique. They are like grass dew in the morning; when you touch them with your feet, you feel an inimitable, mystical power, and it seems that just passing through them once is enough to live with this light for the rest of your life. Grandma didn't like memories. She lived in the present. Or, no—she loved her beautiful past so much that she did not even try to recall them; she tried to revive them. At this time, she looked like a pretty little girl, dressed in a sunlight dress, carelessly chasing butterflies scattered on the meadow. I saw her youth. I fitted the equipment, and together we dived into the wonderful vortex of wonder. Her life was like a firefly—it may be small, but inimitably brilliant. Besides, fireflies also shine at night. Every morning with them was special and varied. No, we didn't hike the mountains every day and spend the days in a pyramid-shaped tent, but we could sit comfortably in a time machine and travel in the past and forth. All this was so wonderful that we could even ignore the ear-splitting hum of the engine. Yes, we were traveling to the future, and we were talking a lot about reality and inevitability, but I never imagined that in the glorious garden of life, that little, sloppy child would be walking carelessly picking colorful, most unique flowers. My fairy turned grey, rested quietly on the meadow green as eternity, and as the flattering wind faded, she scattered like a dandelion in the light-filled, rose-scented space. I think of her often, and it always brings a smile to my lips. During this time, I go to the garden—I water my poppies.

PET FEATURE OF THE ISSUE Ann Parker & Rylee Martindale-Rushing

This is Miss Magnolia, Maggie to friends. Just like the trees of her namesake, she always wants to be center of attention and fans come from all over to see her beauty! –mother ann

Elsa is nothing less than the main character. She enjoys anything that she could possibly eat except mushrooms, she hates mushrooms. In her free time she likes to bark out the window when there’s nothing there, eat snacks, and stalk her family members. It’s a shame she hates having her hair brushed because she has such luscious locks. Watch out because she is bound and determined to steal your spot on the couch! –Rylee M.R.

CONTRIBUTOR BIOS

ERIN SHEN

Hello! Erin is an 11th grader who loves to travel, dance, act, and creating equality for education. She also loves hunger games and listening to the soothing rain outside while listening to Harry Styles.

CARLEY PEDEN Carley is a junior at Statesboro High School, and this is her third year as a member of the Literary Club and the Listen editorial team, where she serves as Head Social Media Manager. Also at SHS, she participates in theater, swim team, and Beta Club. Carley has been playing guitar since she was 10 and this is her sixth year as a member of Pladd Dot’s School of Rock and Roll band program. She is a die-hard Swiftie who loves to make music, watch movies, eat macarons, and spend time with loved ones. Carley sincerely hopes you enjoy this issue of Listen!

RYLEE MARTINDALE-RUSHING

Rylee Martindale-Rushing is in the 11th grade and has been in the Literary Magazine Club for two years. She is co-president of Statesboro High Schools National Art Honor Society and is in the theater program. Outside of Statesboro High she is in Pladd Dot’s School of Rock and Roll Program where she sings and plays the electric guitar. In her free time she likes to write songs, read, travel, and spend time with her family. Rylee loves to spread creativity and stories through her artwork and writing. Her favorite artistic mediums are gouache, watercolor, and graphite. She hopes you enjoy the magazine.

ANNALIA SMALL

Annalia moved to Statesboro in January of 2022. She is a part of band, theatre, and tennis here, as well as being an editor for the literary magazine. She has always enjoyed reading and writing and was excited to submit a piece of work for this edition.

GABBY DEVINE

Gabriella Devine is a Junior at Statesboro High School. She is involved mostly in artistic pursuits, such as theater and playing guitar. She is involved in Pladd Dot School of Rock, performing gigs around town. Gabriella is an artist by trade, be it visual arts, performing arts, or creative writing, and incorporating her emotions into her art is always the key to what she does.

AUDREY CLIFTON

Audrey Clifton is a sophomore at Statesboro High school. She’s always loved many diﬀerent forms of art, including photography. She hopes that you’ll enjoy the many wonders of the world through her photography . WILL JAMES

Will is a senior at SHS and is a Photography and STEM editor for the magazine. He is also involved in NHS, Beta Club, and SkillsUSA. His main interest is technology and related fields and plans on going to Georgia Tech in the fall for a major in the technology or graphic design field. He enjoys 46 using his desires of technology and science as an editor and to write pieces for the magazine that are focused on the topic of the issue but with a technical or scientific twist..

NYANA CARNES

Nyana has lived in Statesboro Georgia for majority of her life. She enjoys art and writing, especially poems. She tries to incorporate things she has experienced or feelings she has felt in her writing. Her life goal is to make a diﬀerence through writing, growing up she read things that made her feel understood and she wants to be that for others. The reason she started writing in the ﬁrst place was because of her late mother, writing became a coping mechanism as she grew up and she wants to inspire others by sharing her story and living out her mothers legacy.

SAMORIA REEDY

Greetings, I’m Samoria Reedy, a senior at Statesboro High School. I was raised in Statesboro, Georgia, and have spent my entire life here with my family. I have three sisters and one brother, and I’m the second oldest of ﬁve kids. My passions have kind of taken a backseat since I was constantly occupied, whether it was on the weekends or after school. However, I prefer having a busy day since it keeps me engaged, sleeping, reading, going on girl's days out with my pals, and trying out new places. After all, I adore food, and taking road trips with my family. I wanted to express my sentiments about graduating from high school through these poems. And, writing the poem helped me a lot because I've been under a lot of stress.

CORINA HUANG

Corina is a sophmore in highschool and enjoys spending time with friends and family. She enjoys spending time alone and going out spontaneously with friends.

CALLIE BARGER

Callie Barger is a junior at Statesboro High School, who is involved in varsity volleyball, theatre, National Art Honors Society, and an editor for Listen Magazine. She loves hiking and being outdoors. Callie collects vinyl records and listens to music for hours each day. The photograph she submitted reﬂects on perspective in the world. She particularly wanted to convey that even ordinary things have beauty, you may just have to look at things a little diﬀerently.

MARIAM BUKIA

Meet Mariam Bukia, a 14-year-old girl hailing from Georgia. Mariam is an active and fearless individual who views the world as a playground of unlimited possibilities. Holding various roles such as project manager, book club head, speaker, and volunteer teacher, she thrives in facing challenges and contributing to her community. Mariam is deeply involved in educational organizations and has earned recognition as the winner of literary competitions. For Mariam, writing is more than a skill; it's a natural expression of irreplaceable emotions. She sees writing as the harmonious thread woven into the fabric of her life, cherishing the moments when she can connect with the pen. Believing that her star shines in the distant sky, Mariam aspires for it to gleam brightly, providing her the courage to continue writing and bringing forth the dreams hidden in the depths of her heart. Every success, she acknowledges, brings joyous beats to her heart. Mariam draws inspiration from her bus travels, ﬁnding fascination in observing people and events along the way.

AZIEYAH ATKINS

Azieyah is from Sylvania, Ga and goes to Statesboro high school. She loves drawing, cooking, and making things. She is a good artist and a creative individual. Azieyah said that she was inspired by her love for rock music and her feelings. She incorporated what she’s heard in those songs to what she’s also feeling. She’s been writing poems for years now.

JESTER ELLISON

Jester has a fun-loving thirst for creativity, with around 9 years of theatre practice, and the love for writing since birth! Every time you see him, you can (and will) see his headphones on his head, jamming out to his tunes. Much of his writing is inspired by music! (either that or whatever he daydreams before bed) His favourite thing is learning all he can about niche subcultures, and diving into all the background information he can get his little hands on. (he once made a 100+ slide presentation about his favourite video game) For college, he hopes to go forth with either of his passions; psychology or theatre/acting! He also hopes you enjoy reading his pieces :) 47

FEATURING AUDREY CLIFTON OLADASOYIN LAWOYIN ANNABELLE JAECKEL CALLIE BARGER GABBY DEVINE RYLEE MARTINDALE-RUSHING CORINA HUANG SHANNON ANDERSON VICTOR NORIEGA JESTER ELLISON TRINITY ROBERSON NYANA CARNES

IVANA CASUSO BEYONCE MORENO ANGULO WILL JAMES SAMORIA REEDY ABBY SMITH MADISON HARVEY AZIEYAH ATKINS ANNALIA SMALL JAYNE LANDERS ANNALIA SMALL ABBY QUINN CLAIRE BURTON

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