Sarah Cox They spun, their feet racing across the floor, dark curtains of hair flowing in rippling waves. He held a drink in his hand. The liquid was clear, not likely water. He had poured it himself and he’d entered himself. No one had noticed him slip through the door or sit by the fire, which raged almost as fiercely as the dancers. The dancers were like animals. They did not pause to look at him, in fact they did not pause at all, only danced. He felt the pull of the music, which he couldn’t quite name. If he focused too hard it almost seemed like there was no sound, yet he felt it tugging at him, urging him to stand and dive into the crowd of motion. A chill ran through his bones even though he was only inches from the fire.
He brought the cup to his lips and sipped. It was sweet, like fresh strawberries. It wasn’t a hot drink, the glass was filled with ice, yet somehow he felt a sudden burst of warmth. Warmth that made him forget, warmth that made him want to dance. He stood, dropping the glass and somewhere far in the back of his mind he heard it shatter, but that wasn’t important. He stepped forward into sea of people, this is good, I don’t ever have to leave here, and then he danced.
Dia de los Muertos Maritza and Yamilette
La calavera se acercó a Dani. “El Día de Los Muertos es un día que celebramos para nuestros parientes quienes han muerto. Tenemos una tradición de ponerles ofrendas, fotos, comida, y flores en sus altares. Nosotros, los mexicanos, creemos que en este día las almas de los muertos reviven.” Dani tenía dos padres que eran panaderos. Ellos eran dueños de una panadería en Corpus Christi, Texas. Un día los padres se levantaron temprano y empezaron hacer ruidos en la cocina. Dani se levantó y corrió para la cocina. Ella tenía curiosidad de lo que sus padres estaban haciendo. “Papá, ¿qué es lo que están haciendo?” preguntó Dani. “Bueno, decidimos celebrar el Día de Los Muertos este año,” respondió Jayden. “¿Y qué es ese Día de Los Muertos? “Hace ocho años, hoy es cuando te adoptamos en un orfanato en México. Al ver cómo estás creciendo, quisimos presentarte de donde eres y las tradiciones que celebra tu cultura. “ El teléfono sonó, era el papá de Dani. “Voy a buscar a tu papi a su trabajo. Volveré pronto.”
“¿Pero qué es…? Adiós papá.” dijo Dani, tristemente. Pronto cuando el padre se fue, Dani escuchó una voz. “Por fin se fue,” dijo la calavera. Dani brincó de susto al ver la calavera cobrar vida. “¡AHH!” Dani gritó, “¿quién eres?” “Bueno, chica linda, soy Ignacio, una calavera de azúcar, una ofrenda típica del Día de Los Muertos.” Dani se veía sorprendida “¿Tú puedes hablar?” “¡Por supuesto! Estoy aquí para contarte la historia del Día de Los Muertos, en caso de que tus papás no te lo dijeran.” “¿Que es el Día de Los Muertos?” Le preguntó Dani a la calavera. “¿Tus papás no te contaron? Ay mi lindísima, tienes mucho que aprender.” “¿De verdad?… ¡Nunca sabía esto de mi cultura!” Cuando la puerta se abrió Dani miró a sus papás entrando y cuando miró la mesa, la calavera ya no estaba allí. Dani corrió hacia sus papás y les dio un gran abrazo.
Product Placement Love Story I first met him when I was walking down Ornamental St and a FastDrive car came barreling toward me at full speed. He was across the street and according to his story he yelled, “Watch out!” But I couldn’t hear him because I had my full immersion, sound diluting ExtraBeat headphones on. Like a knight in shining CarlFabric, I was quickly pushed out of the way of the vehicle. The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel; he probably would have stayed awake if he’d had his FreshRise coffee first thing in the morning like me. All I managed to glance as I flew from the street to the adjacent sidewalk(made with ExtraStiffCement), was a gleaming billboard advertising Catpup, the new household pet, not quite cat, not quite dog, a scientific feat of gene mutation.
My knees hit the cement when I landed so I felt a sudden jolt of pain, but when I stood up I felt mostly fine. I figured I could take some IbuPain Relief when I went home, it works miracles. I pulled off my headphones, looking at this man who had been my savior and then looking down at his feet admiring his high quality Supersmooth sneakers, which gleamed silver in the setting sun. He had excellent skin, completely lacking in visible pores and I wondered what his skincare routine was, possibly SkinClear. I asked his name after that and he told me it was Dave, not a particularly interesting name, but I found him to be quite interesting. Now we’re married, it’s funny how fate works out. We have our own little Catpup, the cutest little creature, I think everyone should own one.
Memory loss when a distant thought becomes reality the feeling of remorse when you believe you have done this before like an animal with a familiar face that you just can't place like socks and sandals or the smell of a blackboard eraser or like a sunday morning where you wake up and it's raining it's so bizarre so view changing the feeling beyond deja vu were you feel like there's something more something more than the life you live like a tape stuck on repeat or a vhs where the film pours out you don't know if it's memory or happening for the first time real time or past tense has dementia taken a hold of me or is it just nostalgia sinking its teeth into me a constant fight between memory and disarray memory loss
"This photo was taken in a boat in the fjords of Skagway, Alaska, on a boat whose captain's thrill-seeking driving nearly made me lose it." -Matthew Lichtenberg
I can’t speak. The words won’t come. My mouth opens, but no sound escapes... I’m mute. The silence of my own voice thunders inward. My head pounds; I scream, but only I can hear it. Lost. Need to find my way back to you, or you to me. I know of no way out of this maze. I call out across the widening chasm of my confusion. Empty…not even an echo replies. I need to find you again. You were the best part of my being. You made me happy. You made me smile. Your smile... Are you there? Can YOU hear me? I’m lost, I can’t speak, and I’m fading. I need you to…
Hear me
Help me
Hurry
Téa Flach
Dance said the wanderer Dance Dance through the endless night Wander to the moons light For we are the man and the shade our cloak Protecting us from the creatures of the night Whose immaculate gaze trembles against the solace of the moon For the night gives safety to the men who dance beneath the moon Movements not meant to be seen By any mortal That breathes the cold air of the night sky
SoulMate I didn’t have much to lose when I got the app I suppose. Clarise had been telling me to get it for weeks. It had helped her meet mark, and they were perfect for each other. Me, well I never had much luck with dating so I guess it was a last resort. SoulMate was the name, an app to help you find the perfect partner. It was an advanced algorithm, made for perfection, made to look over every part of who you were. This included the time I spilled applesauce on myself in first grade and the time I wrote a love letter to Steve Jacobi when I was 12, only to be ignored. As soon as I put in my information it began to process and produce the statistics. Each measurement went from 1 to 10. I’d never met a 1 or a 10 before, finding either was incredibly rare, the majority of people were somewhere in the middle, average. I watched the loading circle spin, once, twice, three times and then my statistics appeared. I’d seen them a dozen times before, but still found myself reading them over. Charisma: 6 Kindness: 7 Intelligence: 6 Honesty: 4 I was perfectly average. A good score in kindness, not so good in honesty. Unfortunately this had made it difficult for employment in the past. There were fewer opportunities for those with an honesty score under 5, but I managed the best I could. I considered white lies to be a necessity in my life, not to mention my kindness score would be lower if I didn’t lie to spare feelings.It would take two minutes to choose my perfect partner, two minutes to go over all the data and to determine who I’d spend the rest of my life with.
I waited patiently, tapping my fingers on the desk. It made a click click click sound that would have annoyed me if anyone else had been making it, but I was alone in my studio apartment, so there was no one to annoy. Click click click, I waited another minute. I could feel my heartbeat increase to the tapping of my fingers. Two minutes felt like forever before the screen finally changed color and his face appeared. The photo was bland and unexciting. Clarise had explained to me why they looked like mugshots before, something about being straightforward and undeceiving. I had taken my photo in the same fashion when I set up my profile. His name was written above his photo(Jason Anders). He had wispy blonde hair and grey eyes. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it, but not too handsome as to be intimidating. He was as handsome as I was pretty, anything else would have been an error in the algorithm. This was the deciding moment. I could choose to accept or decline. If I declined now I could close my laptop and forget about the app altogether. If I accepted the string would be tied and I’d have to go through the standard dating time, 6 weeks. I could break it off, if for some reason an emergency required me to, but not without costing me an expensive fee and I’d have to go through the necessary lawful proceedings. I sighed and clicked accept. I didn’t have anything to lose. ParkStreetGrill, 6 o’clock Friday night, popped up on the screen, along with Congratulations! You have a date!
Oh rain man can't you see these decisions aren't me But life's thorns who hallow me And allow me to do as you would please And as fibers grasp my very being I am pushed into the need of comfort The comfort of leading The comfort of being Of being the illusion
Editors: Liam Paullis Nathan Elmer Sarah Cox Tea Flach Jonah Thompson Atticus Chiasson Maritza Ramirez Yamilette Espada Jake O'Connell