Sisyphus OCTOBER 31, 2020
Art by Will Blaisdell
Fear Alexander Preusser
Fear is a flighty thing Constantly changing Morphing Evolving Beating its wings to the rhythm of your rapidly pounding heart Restless butterflies a fiery frenzy in your stomach It grows with you A constant companion Ever-present by your side Unwavering in its loyalty Looming overhead like a storm of circling vultures Ready to descend and take over Threatening to seize control Every move Every thought that is yours belongs to fear You belong to fear
Singular Focus Christopher St. John
I stand in a field, my body caked in mud and grime. I hear the growling of my stomach, as if it alone could kill the beast. Across the field stands a boar, its black eyes locked into mine. My family needs this food. My spear is leveled, my stance firm, ready for the charge. Everything but the boar disappears as I watch my target. With a screech, the boar begins to charge, its lumbering mass growing larger by the second. I can do this, I mutter, as I ready myself for the brunt of the impact,� fighting the urge to run. I can’t stop my eyes from sealing shut. I just have to stop it, I have to stop it. A sharp pain emanates from my ankle, like someone slicing my Achilles wide open. A fire burns through my leg like molten iron coursing through my veins. I fall to the ground. As I lie there, face half-buried in the dirt, I can make out a diamond-headed serpent emerge from the grass, inspecting its prey. I cannot move, the fire burns in every crevice of my body as I lie there, helpless. as the darkness closes in. I can hear the boar getting closer, I have to get up, have to‌
The Ride Taggart Arens A steel chorus stands tall against the breeze, swaying gently as autumn leaves drift down. The crowded members—caught in its reprise, creaking in every aching joint—fall down.
A figure lurks below, culling the weak. Fear creeps into their joyful voices, strained, receding into whispers, they are meek, Ragged breathing under thick bonds contained.
Behold the ride stirring courage to flee. The reaper calls to slaughter sheep, eager, Bitter demons refuse to shift their key, Unyielding to the screams that beleaguer.
Hands linger with each other all for naught, Hell’s everlasting torture they have bought.
Art by Will Blaisdell
Sisyphus Halloween, October 2020
Layout Editors: Carter Fortman, Carter Spence Nathan Rich, George Henken, Luke Duffy Literary Editors: Harrison Beardsley, Philip Hiblovic, Corey Lyles, Taggart Arens, Alex Wentz, Luke Duffy, Alexander Preusser, Christopher St. John, Austin Wald Art Editors: Philip Hiblovic, Brendan McLaughlin, Nathan Rich, Owen Rittenhouse, Jack Janson, Alexander Deiters Moderators: Frank Kovarik, Rich Moran