Thank you to all who contributed! Poetry:
Table of Contents (As they appear)
Haiku Battle (Charles Crumlett and Joe Morris) Trinidad (Emilio Lopez) Doll (Angel Destiny Rose) Simplicity (Angel Destiny Rose) Chasing the other half of me (Angel Destiny Rose) Generation X (Brian Benitez) A Verse of Knowledge (Matt Buttacavoli) The summit (Joe Morris) A child of innocence, a mother of experience (Eli Anton) Parts Unknown (Nick Hall-Skank) I’m just a little shrub (Chantelle Wimms) Unknown Love (Angel Destiny Rose) Seek the sound (Joe Morris) Girls Life (Rose Gottschalk) Lunchtime on the Gibbon River (Nick Hall-Skank) Under a Paper Moon (Trinidad Garcia) At a glance (Trinidad Garcia) The Pizza Movement (Joe Morris and Charles Crumlett) Going Through the Seasons (Dane Crouse) The Simple Things in Soccer (Dane Crouse) Progressing through the school day (Dane Crouse) Anonymous
Prose: The Flame, the Man, and the Cat (Nick Hall-Skank) I found you (Eli Anton) Pied Piper (Charles Crumlett) The Painter’s Moon (Eli Anton) Inside Neal’s Mind (Dane Crouse) Past Tense (Charles Crumlett) Diary of a Memory (Eli Anton) Night Drive (Trinidad Garcia) The Devil Made Me Do It (Andrea Huicochea) Letter (Rachel O’Brien) Ivy (Trinidad Garcia) The Other Woman (Anonymous) The Viper (Hannah Murphy) Our Love Story Has Just Begun (Andrea Huicochea) On The Eve of Battle (Nick Hall-Skank)
=Editors= Rose Gottschalk Claudia Karaluch
=Art Directors= Eli Anton Trinidad Garcia
Photography/Drawings: (List of submitters) Luis Rivera Cristie Zheng Irish Aguada David Dubiewski Olivia Hein Suzy Williams Jenny Patel Rudi Luna
Art Director’s Choice Under a Paper Moon Trinidad Garcia Under a paper moon When the nights are so cold My warm body you can hold Under a paper moon Nights that ended with a kiss Those nights I reminisce Under a paper moon Your skin always bloomed Don't want you to go so soon Under a paper moon When we are under covers Making Love to one another Under a paper moon When my mind roams around Thoughts of you keep me off ground Under a paper moon A trip around never land Hourglass out of sand Under a paper moon house made up of four sheets My heart for you always Beats
Under this paper moon When I first laid eyes on you Till the day our first child is due Under this paper moon With wrinkles around your face My beloved you are my better place Under this paper moon Even when death pulled us apart You are still the one that holds my heart
Haiku Battle Charles Crumlett and Joe Morris Our Haiku Battle Charles Versus Joe Morris Charles will win (Yeah!) Charlie likes tacos He really likes to eat them He is really cool Joe is a ginger Joe eats tortillas alone Joe’s pretty special Charles is so lame His dumb haiku’s are poop He don’t eat fruit loops Shut the front door, Joe My haiku’s are super flame Joe’s haikus are lame
Emilio Lopez Trinidad His name’s Trinidad We call him Trinidaddy ...He’s not a daddy
Doll Angel Destiny Rose
And when words aren't there Look at her actions instead.
Here you go. This isn't what You asked for. It's not what you ordered. It's what already existed. Here's a broken girl Hanging on by a string. Take care of her darling, she's a beautiful thing.
She might be broken But she's not just a doll She's a girl. More than just A pretty thing Played with and Burned.
She laughs, she smiles She dances around, and sings. But she's losing pieces Quicker now it seems. Don't lose her, or break her There's no warrantee. What you see Is what you get. There's no changing that. But look into her soul. There's more to her than Just scars and bones There's memories, Stories and beautiful mind Take care to listen To every word she says
She'll be there For you. And hold you In her arms. Tell you soft secrets And sing you 16 bars Weep at a six string Dance in 3/4. Rock out with the drums And sing with her heart Here's a broken little girl Who's been through a lot. Not meaning to say, She's not without heart No roses required, Or a boxed diamond ring Here you are darling Such a beautiful thing.
Simplicity Angel Destiny Rose I would love for a short slice of time If that would allow me To marvel at your mundanity. The imperfect eyes That gaze off into fantasy, Reflecting the world in their gaze. Your rose colored lips, that have yet to bloom. in the Spring. Speaking words of simplicity into my heart. Weaving them into a song Of no greater importance than the color of the sky but singing for the infinity of time only for me. Your pale countenance Showing not flushed cheeks On their landscape. But the pale of the moon Albeit the light from The sun. Inner brilliance shows instead. In a moment no longer than the streaming of a falling star, your mortal visage shall entrance my eyes.
Chasing The Other Half of Me Angel Destiny Rose The sun shines so bright Hiding its imperfections. But darling look at the moon. Closely enough, you'll see its Scarred, detailed surface. One of us is the Light. The Other, the shadow. It varies, day to day, On who is the foil. But that is how we are Whole. You and I. Both, my love, With such beautiful minds
My immortal soul you have ensnared for infinity. As long as Love shall endure
"Generation X" Brian Benitez This generation is so worried about Facebook and Twitter. They haven't noticed their life has gotten bitter. Technology has evolved but humanity has declined. Cutting down the oxygen we breath and killing Everything in our path, humanity has lost its mind
A Verse of Knowledge Matt Buttacavoli Persistence is the pestilence My senses say the census is driving down below with the speed of the flow mind swelling out of control couldn’t be seen or could be deceived the pressure is building within me I can’t keep holding onto this weight my shoulders are starting to feel out of place and then my demons tell me there’s no escape well then I say buzz off Can’t destroy the balance, there's some food for thought Make it an issue and we can talk about it Or be a real man and you can drop it That’s just how it’s been My lifestyle my mindset is that good or bad The question is can you see Or are you blinder than me Maybe we’re all a little blind But I’ve started opening up my eyes The 3rd one to be specific Mind over matter is naturalistic Like the Natural Mystic The sound of the first trumpet might as well be the last one So I’ll take my chances and play for fun ‘Cause in the long run It won’t matter what you say to yourself Actions are louder than words, and knowledge is the true wealth The summit Joe Morris I gave you a path, told you not to stray from it. Gave you directions on how to get to the summit. Train up a child and don't let it run wild. The path goes on for miles, but it must keep to the path and not be exiled. When he's old, he'll make his own views to behold. he'll either be boldly gold or fade to grey and become devilishly cold.
A child of innocence, a mother of experience Eli Anton Lay your head, as the night comes down. Watch the sun leave . A pillow, a blanket, a small plushie. Is all you’ll need.
My mind has been tainted with time. Don’t look, the danger is true. It’ll try to drown you. Don’t look, It’s been empty for years. A pit that’ll fill you with fears.
But darling, I warn you. Darling, I beg you.
Please darling, sleep where you are, may you resist the curiosity that pushes you to venture. My child, I love you, so please do listen.
Don’t look inside me, it’s dangerous you see. Don’t look inside me, it’s empty you see.
Don’t look. Just fly away, in your dreams, know no sorrow or fear. Sleep in peace while you still may. Before the new day arrives. We know not yet united or crumbling, we to survive. Darling, I warn you. Darling, I beg you. Don’t look inside, it’s dangerous you see. Don’t look inside, It’s empty you see.
Don’t look inside me. Just sleep.
Nick Hall-Skank Parts Unknown Can you feel it? The world calling Begging you to explore To make known the hidden places Your adventurer’s spirit yearns for more You’ve been bitten by the travel bug, But not an ordinary kind This world is wide, unseen by most A fervent idea consumes your mind You But Nor You
will travel, yes, that much is certain, not to Paris, the Bahamas or Rome New York, LA, Cancun, Orlando; search instead for parts unknown:
Patagonia, the Pantanal Mongolia, Namaqualand The Karakorum Mountains Tuvalu and Samarkand It’s places like these an adventurer makes; An explorer extraordinaire A traveler of the highest order, You’ll go next to who-knows-where You’ve paddled The Ogooué and The Rio Negro, Your canoe has
rivers legendary; Mekong the Ob, the Snake graced the grand Yukon
Fiordland, Denali, Uluru, You quest to leave no unscaled peak; The Absaroka, Zagros, and Tien Shan Mountains Tierra del Fuego left you feeling meek To the Poles you have ventured; The Bering Strait and Weddell Sea ‘Round the Equator many tips you’ve made Visiting the Llanos, the Ghats, and Kalahari This world is wide, there’s more to see; Namibia, Guanacaste, Palau Your wanderlust's unslakable Where will you go now?
I’m Just a Little Shrub Chantelle Wimms I’m just a little shrub. I started as a bud just like everyone else but I didn’t grow as big and tall as the trees that surround me. In the fall, I don’t lose my leaves gracefully like the trees do. I don’t even have enough leaves to make a fun pile to jump in but that’s probably because I’m just a little shrub. In the winter, I’m covered in a blanket of snow that leaves me cold and lonely. I don’t get the warmth of animals in need of a home like trees do because I’m just a little shrub. In the spring, there are no April showers that bring May flowers for me. I don’t get see the sun because I’m left in the shadow of all the trees that surround me. I am malnourished because all the trees drank the water before it could get to me. I’m not mad at them though. They can’t help it that I’m just a little shrub but that’s okay because when I think of Summer. Oh how I love the summer!! In the summer, I finally get to bloom. I finally get to see the sun smile. I am finally graced with water’s presence. In the summer I become flower crowns, I become a makeshift crib for new life, I become make believe dinner, I become the best hiding place on the block, I become nourishment for even the smallest people. All these things I do in summer make start to believe maybe I’m not just a little shrub after all…
Unknown Love Angel Destiny Rose Is this love real? Or am I, the dreamer, fantasizing? I do not know. My heart is fixed at the speed of light. My eyes trail On their simple, slight movements. Tucking hair behind the ear, Gentle brushing of hands or legs upon my own, as they vent their heart out to me. Blushing as they apologize for rambling on. I lend them my ear and hope their voice shall ne'er cease. Three kisses upon my cheeks. Two on the right, one on the left.
Three hugs in an hour, and the squeezing of hands gently grasped in theirs at our parting. Thrice did they say I love you. Twice did they say I'll miss you. Once did they say I need you. If this is the love that I have longed for, my heart shall keep its pace. Even if I dream, and this comes to a different end, I will revel in this unknown love.
Seek the sound Joe Morris Pied piper, follow me listen to my sob story. Satan came then he went, till my last silver was spent. Pied piper touched the key, played me the fool you see. The big man with his blade took out all the light like a shade. Pied piper meant to flee but he was caught on hangman's tree. Satan strung him up like a fiddle and now here so ends this dark riddle
Girls Life Rose Gottschalk
Lunchtime Along the Gibbon River Nick Hall-Skank
For as long as I can remember “Cover up” “Don’t show too much” “Not too short” Wherever I go “Is he looking at my butt?” “Is he following me?” “Is my shirt too low cut?” My mind skipping positives Always thinking the worse “Is that old man watching me?” People looking at breasts and butts Social media applauding exposure, Pointing out the size, As if we don’t already know it And try to hide it from others Because from the To be careful of To be careful of To spot creepers
beginning we’re taught searching eyes rapists before friends
Because in our culture Women are taught it’s their fault. Not wandering eyes Not hungry glances. It’s up to a woman to protect herself And not man to prevent himself.
Black rubber wheels roll up, bearing a beige minivan It rests on a carpet of pine needles the color of rust The trunk opens; a bright plastic cooler is removed “When’s lunch?” “Right now” “I’m hungry” “So am I” The search is on for the best picnic table “Get the one closest to the river” “It’s covered in lichen!” “It’s exposed to the breeze, The mosquitos won’t follow” “A bird crapped on it!” “Do I look like I care?” The feast is spread, ravenous they devour; Sweet, fragrant crimson grapes Cheese, crackers, summer sausage Half a jar of peanut butter “What are we doing after lunch?” “Drive to Old Faithful, then back to Norris” “But I wanted to seeOh my God! Look! A bear!” The big black behemoth bumbles along, Completely oblivious to his gaping observers Sun kissed huckleberries, Fresh skunk cabbage, Squirming army cutworms; Its lunchtime for bears And brothers alike
At a Glance Trinidad Garcia She sits across from me in class Staring at her as she's taking notes She's so smart, and pure at heart I sit here picking at my nose Why does the look in her eyes, Give me an abundance of butterflies? Why is talking in front of people easy I always know what words to say But trying to talk to her I become queasy Like I've lost the words I've known to say A million faces, with a million smiles, Why is hers the only one worthwhile? As the teacher is giving a lecture I don't seem to get what's being taught I sit here and admire every bit of her And don't seem to have any other thought I didn't write this poem, it wrote itself By looking at her I found myself
The Pizza Movement Joe Morris and Charles Crumlett Pizza, that round thing that I want All these ads, boy they taunt. Pizza makes my hunger flaunt, Gimme pepperoni on top. I went to the pizza shop, my hunger didn’t stop; then we ordered a soda pop. Man pizza be makin’ me munch, I’ll eat it for dinner and lunch, Make my stomach turn into a sponge. Soaking up with that crust. I have such a pizza lust I must make a fuss If I don’t get to bust in the door and rob them of a pepperoni, boy we don’t make no macaroni. Eating saucey cheese it ain’t no bologna. . Ain’t no weirdo named Josef Coni, I got you my jabroni, you my homie. We be rolling the pins, like we be bowling to win. This pizza been stolen it's a sin, I needed to eat some from the garbage bin. Like a raccoon within, in the alleys chewin’. My bowels spewin’, This is the pizza movement
Going Through the Seasons Dane Crouse
The Simple Things in Soccer Dane Crouse
It’s covered in snow.
World’s most popular sport.
Animals have been around.
It’s called soccer or football.
Ice is on the trees.
It’s quite beautiful.
Lots of rain and slush.
Eleven per team.
Green sprouts, mud, weeds multiply.
Two 45-minute halves.
Grass is growing fast.
Played on a green pitch.
Flowers have arrived.
Uniformed players.
Bright sunshine and loud bees too.
Clad in matching kids and cleats.
This heat is too much.
Of club or country.
The leaves are falling.
My favorite sports.
This weather is horrible,
Artistic and creative.
But it’s colorful.
Simply amazing. Progressing Through the School Year Dane Crouse It is the first day. I’m making many new friends. The halls are a maze. Much stress has arrived. My homework is in a heap. When is Christmas break? It’s almost spring break. I received help after all. Only 6 weeks left. The school year ended. My final grade was an A. Finishing brings joy.
Anonymous her soft sounding sigh over his drunken whispers she can’t belong here fast-running water a tangle of tired limbs you and me, here, now watermelon dew she wears a blue gingham dress singing cicadas ink stains, cloudy blue smear her fingertips but her thoughts are crystal clear
Art Director’s Choice The Flame, the Man, and the Cat Nick Hall-Skank At first there is nothing but darkness; overwhelming and all consuming. Wonders and horrors and things that are both; all of them are concealed by the inky lightlessness. Then, there is a sound. A solitary drop of water falls into a pool below. Drip… drip… drip… It echoes softly; this is an enclosed space. A cave perhaps? There are other senses unaffected by the veil of darkness. Touch revels that stone slick with perspiration forms the ground and walls. The cold air is heavy, and smells of rot. A putrid stench seems to emanate from the dark, soaking into all objects yet unseen. This chamber is a foul place; that much is evidenced even in the pitch dark. This scene could be one of infinity many; the dark, the cold, and the reeking smell exist here in perpetuity. But at this particular moment in time something new is happening, something that hasn’t happened in the lifetime of any of the numerous flea ridden rats that dwell here, nor their progenitors before them. There is a sound, soft but amplified by the cavernous nature of the space. The sound of creaking and groaning pierces the darkness, scattering the prolific vermin in a fearful frenzy. A thick oaken door set on rusting iron hinges has just been opened for the first time in half a century. Through the door travels an anomaly, something foreign to this land of gloom; a flame. The flame illuminates secrets the darkness fought hard to conceal. A stone stairwell descends from the door to the ground. Great iron cages, corroded by the wear and tear of time, dominate the space. One corner is dedicated to sinister looking implements of torture. Festering rat gnawed skeletons, some still bound in shackles, populate the morbid environ. This is no cave; it is a dungeon.
The flame brings light to something else as well; the man. He is incredibly ugly, comically so. His face, awash with the warm orange glow of the flame he bears, is riddled with pox scars. Oily brown hair, curled by its rank and unhygienic state, comes down to his shoulders. His beard is in a similar unkempt condition, as are his tattered moth-eaten robes. One eye is set lower than the other, and both seem to bulge from his head. This, combined with his mirthless grin, give him the appearance of a madman. Perhaps he is; one would have to be mad to journey to such sullen place willingly. Gnarled, calloused fingers wrap around a wooden staff; this proves to be the light source. His staff burns fervently, but does not wither. The flame produces ample light, but no heat. In fact, radiant luminance seems to emanate not only from the flame, but the staff and man as well. The man is a priest by trade, but an adventurer by necessity. He devotes himself to the fire goddess, who grants him ample control over her element in return. While it is not fair to say that he is a bad man, it is also not fair to say that he is a good man either. This ragged robed priest has done his fair share of both saintly acts and ill-natured doings. Today he shall not stray from his self-elected path of neutrality; he has come to this macabre corner of the world on a personal matter. As he slowly descends the staircase into the abyss, all manner of creatures lurking in the dark recoil from the light. Cockroaches and deathwatch beetles scuttle to the nearest unlit orifice. The aforementioned rats, their murky sanctuary defiled, retreat farther into the catacombs. A dank primordial ooze sucks and slides its way towards some stygian refuge from this unwelcome invasion of luminance. But there is one bold creature that does to run. Curious, it watches the man go about his business, concealed, for the time being, in the shrinking darkness. The man reaches the ground floor, and scans the room. A bead of sweat drips off his knobby nose despite the frigid subterranean air. He seems to be heated by some internal inferno, burning within him like a forge. He takes a step; slowly he begins his search. As if he has all the time in the world, he patiently sifts through the piles of accumulated rubble deposited over the years of neglect. Halfway through a collection of moldering cloth and rat droppings, he stops. He feels a presence; glaring eyes burn upon him. He holds his staff aloft, bringing light to every possible nook and cranny. “And what does the flame reveal?” he asks the gloom, his voice booming like an exhaling bellows. His query is soon answered as his observer slinks into the light from behind a mound of skulls; the cat. At first, it would appear to be a run-of-the-mill feral tom. But as its shadowy jet black figure advances, the more sinister nature of this feline becomes apparent. Its coat has torn away in places, leaving a patchwork of festering skin and mangy fur. A scar runs from the top of its right ear to the left corner of its chin. The left eye socket is empty, save for a writhing white maggot making a feast out of the cat’s decaying optical nerve. The most abhorrent affront to sanctity is the cat’s chest; a chunk of flesh has torn away from the bone, exposing the underlying ribcage. A heart that does not beat accompanies lungs that do not breathe; a full suite of organs lies lifeless in their bony cage.
“What a well-crafted work of necromancy” the man states for no one in particular, subtle admiration underlying his tone. The cat, clearly unaware of its supposed lifelessness, rubs lovingly against the man’s legs begging for attention. The man stoops and gives the mangy creature a pat, receiving a contented throaty purr in return. “Have you a name cur?” the man asks the cat, as if fully expecting an answer. Only silence follows. “Fine then, keep your secrets,” he says with an air of indignation “I’ll find my sword on my own. Be off nameless dungeon dweller! ” The cat saunters off once more into the murk. A moment passes before the lyrical sound of metal hitting stone resonates throughout the chamber. The cat returns nudging a dull steel blade forward. The seemingly unflappable priest gawps in astonishment. “My sword! My old companion returned to me at last!” He reaches forward and grasps the sword. Immediately the dull blade brightens, aglow with new life. He mutters an incantation and the blade bursts into flames; staff, sword, and man leave no nothing for the dark to cling to. The man, his quest completed, turns to leave. As he ascends the stairs, he hears the soft mewl of the decrepit cat behind him. He turns; the cat stares at him pleadingly with his solitary eye. Something stirs in the man, he feels an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time; compassion. “You’ll need a name if you’re to travel with me cur.” He contemplates for a moment “Myrcus. I’ll call you Myrcus.” Flame, man and cat finish the ascent together, the great oaken door closes. Darkness reigns once more; overwhelming and all consuming. Drip… drip… drip…
I found you Eli Anton A man loitered in front of a small shop in the streets of London. An old, gold rimmed, black pipe in his mouth, small puffs of bitter to the lung smoke rising in the air. He took one good drag then let it flow out. A tap against the stone wall that gives a small clink then the tobacco falls out, a stamping with his foot, a slipping of the claw pipe in his coat pocket, and the job is done. He gazed through the warped and fogged window of the tacky little building. A tiny trinket sat on the sill, looking out with flaking white skin and a plastered smile. The man entered the shop, causing a small bell to chime as he wandered in a few feet before stopping. His eyes scanned the room, a maze of tables filled with antiques with little price tags. “Do you care to buy something, good sir?” A small, light voice piped up from the Cherrywood counter. A glance over, the source is found. A small girl, barely tall enough to peek over the edge of the counter peered at the man with bright blue eyes of curiosity. It was obvious, despite her tongue, that she was not completely of British origin; her skin was colored tan, offering a more middle eastern look.
The man offers the child a soft, warm smile, a gesture that secures the child in knowing he means well. “Good evening little miss.. Do you happen to sell sheets of papyrus? I’ve been looking all over but the lot of folks around say they’ve long since been sold out.” The girl looked puzzled. “Puh...pie...russ.. I know of a plant by that name.. But my mummy tells me there’s none of those plants anywhere near here.” She pouted and rolled her head around as if struggling with a thought before suddenly pointing her arm towards a shelf on the farthest right wall from her. “Sir, look over there, there’s all kinds of paper over there, but well.. I need to go ask my mummy about that special paper. I’ll be back!” Before a word could escape his lips, her tiny frame scampered into the back room. He shook his head lightly but followed the child’s suggestion and went over to the shelf, letting his fingers search the different kinds of paper laid out. Most of them were either cheap and in fresh condition or ancient, browned with time and stiffened from travel. He was sure of himself that as soon as ink met the old sheets it would bleed through as paint bleeds in water. The only surprise was that there was no intoxicating musty scent. “Over there Mummy, look!” The meager girl had dragged her mother into the room and was pointing to the big man as she struggled to form the word once again. “He said he’s looking for Puh...puh piruss…- paper!” The man looked up, only to grow stiff as a corpse with a pale expression as he stared at the woman with wide eyes. His joints briefly locked, creating the utmost tension in his knees, preventing him from moving an inch. Surely, his brow would soon sweat with anxiousness. Standing just beside the child behind the counter was a beautifully tanned young slender figure most likely in her late twenties, long black hair, big green eyes, and a smile that would warm anyones heart. Even from where he stood across the shop, he could breathe in the floral scent that floated from her, too sweet to be perfume. “Ru…?” The man’s lips half muttered as his remained fastened on her. The woman’s smile faltered and instead she frowned slightly. “I’m sorry..?” Her words were laid with confusion, yet still a sense of familiarity towards the name lingered. The man shook his head as his body let go with relaxation and disappointment. “Ah, nothing, I’m sorry. I have you mixed up with someone I once knew.” He sighed with an apologetic expression playing on his lips and in his eyes, walking over to the counter. “Um, do you by chance sell papyrus here?” The woman smiled sadly. “I’m afraid not.. it’s truly hard to come by in London.. But my sister might be able to help you. She takes trips to Africa on her own. She says that kind of paper is important to her.” A sort of happiness grew inside his chest. “You’re sure she’d have some?” The woman nodded. “I know she has some, you’ll have to argue with her on whether she’ll even sell it though. She runs a small bookstore just down the block.” The man nodded, delighted regardless of the thought. “Thank you so much!” He hurried for the door. “Sir!” A tiny voice squeaked.
The man came to a halt and turned briefly to give his attention to the small one whom called to him. “Good luck, Sir.” The child smiled softly as she offered a small wave with her little hand. The man laughed lightly to himself “Thank you!” He parted from the shop, traversing to the quaint little book shop. The cobblestone beneath his feet lightly jabbing into him through his shoes as he proceeded along them. There was the chatter of others, whistles, and coughs. All too familiar sounds of the people in the evening floating up into the sky. He finally arrived at the door of a shop he’d never visited before, painted on a sign over head “Little Book House”. Time for the moment of truth that had clenched him from the beginning of his journey. Upon stepping through the doorway of this next shop, he was filled with the scent of vanilla and ink, and a sense of familiarity. There was a light crash then a tall, young lady, very similar to the first shopkeeper in appearance- but with a more shapely figure and her hair pulled up in a high ponytail- hurried from the back room, her movements urgent yet still with a graceful sway. “How can I help you?” She called with a slight pant as she took position behind her counter, curious emerald eyes lifting to see who her customer could be. The man merely smiled as he gently approached her, his hand reaching into his coat pocket where he withdrew a picture and held it up side by side with the woman who continued to gaze at him, just as affixed as he had been merely minutes ago. “You already have..”
Charles Crumlett Pied Piper A dull scraping noise filled the room as the giant of a man ran his whetstone across the blade of his huge sword. The only other noise the executioner heard was the loud pattering of raindrops assaulting the roof and sides of the building. Jason thought about what he was about to do, how he was going to end another life. There was a deafening plop in the chamber pot below him as something dropped in. A quiet groan escaped his lips. ‘This will be the last time,’ he promised himself ‘never again will I take the life of a man who cannot fight for it, a man who cannot fight back.’ Slowly he stood and pulled up his loose black cotton pants, fastening his belt around his waist. He sheathed his enormous blade, pulled down his mask, and drew up his heavy black hood. Jason opened the door and walked out into the darkness. It was surprisingly warm outside. Heavy rain slashed through the air. Jason looked up at the dark sky. Weather to fit the
occasion, he thought. His mind raced as it had many times before. He meandered through the small town, until he reached the gate. A crowd was already beginning to gather around the tree. That damn tree, an enormous dark oak tree just outside the gates of the town. The tree was so old that every execution within the last few hundred years had happened at the tree. Every name had been carved into the enormous trunk. Every death darkened the tree. An old frayed noose hung from the lowest, thickest branch of the tree. The noose itself had been around longer than anyone could remember; no one knew how long the tree had stood. Jason walked through the mud and the crowd parted for him to pass. He made it up to the tree and took his place leaned against the only dry spot on the tree, right next to a bloodstained log, that had been used as a chopping block for many years. He waited. It would begin all too soon. Suddenly there was a shuffling of feet through the mud. Jason looked up and saw two town guards dragging a bound man out of the gate, towards the tree. The man was pulled up next to the tree. The man looked directly at Jason. There was no fear in the man’s bright purple eyes. Purple, what an awkward color, Jason thought. The doomed man did not beg for his life and cry as others had. He simply accepted that he would die. Jason cleared his throat quietly and then projected his voice to be heard by the crowd over the rain and wind. “Richard Evergreen, you have been, after retrial and evaluation, decided, by the lord of the lands in Ravensnest, to be guilty of the crime of betraying secrets of the Alliance to creatures of evil,” he paused for a moment and looked deep into the man’s purple eyes, seeing only sadness and guilt. ‘So he had done it’ Jason said silently to himself before he spoke again “you told a creature of evil the location of the Alliance city of Esterwilde and caused the deaths of thousands of the fair people, and the destruction of the city.” He paused again to catch his breath. The man still remained calm and showed no fear of what was about to take place. “But, for your honesty and attempt to right your wrong, you have been given two choices.” He gave his words a moment to sink in. “first, you can choose between imprisonment and death.” The man decided quickly and said “Death.” No one was surprised. Everyone knew that Richard would rather die than live on his knees, under the control of another man. “Now, the second choice is your form of execution. To be hanged, or beheaded.” Jason said knowing what his choice would be; he reached for the hilt of his blade. “Beheadment” He said, again without pausing. A lone voice from the crowd, a young woman by the sound of it, began a slow sad tune Pied piper, follow me Listen to my sob story She sang like a mourning angel. More voices joined in singing the grim tune. Satan came, then he went ‘Till my last silver was They paused as Jason’s finger touched the handle of his sword. Spent
The forsaken man was forced down to his knees in the mud, the wind picked up. His black hair, which had grown out during the years of his imprisonment before the decision was reached, blew in the wind. A foot pressed onto his back holding him down against the block. Jason gripped the handle of his monstrous blade. Pied piper touched the key Jason drew the heavy weapon and held it there. Time slowed as he raised the sword; he looked into the man’s eyes. There was still strength in them. There was still no fear. In a moment there would be no light in them. There would be nothing left, except a decapitated corpse and another name in that accursed tree. Played me the fool you see. The big man with his blade There was a sickening crunch. Blood seeped from the dying man. His face lost color. His eyes began to fade, but there was still light in them. The skin tore and the bone shattered, but the weapon had stopped short. A quiet and terrible noise escaped the lacerated man. One word; one name, Alex... The young woman who began the song whimpered. Took out all the light Jason drew his blade out of the man and raised it again. The man’s eyes filled with pain, but still no fear. Like a shade Jason let the blade fall again into the man. The girl collapsed into tears. “Damn you!” she screamed with tears running down her face. “Burn in hell” The head rolled free of the body. Rain washed the blood away into the mud. The last verse of the song was sung quietly through the whole crowd. Even the guards joined in. Pied piper meant to flee But he was caught on hangman’s tree Satan strung him up like a fiddle And now here so ends this dark riddle Jason took out a knife from his belt and found a clear spot on the tree. Into the dark wet wood he carved Richard Evergreen. “I’m sorry Richard” he said almost inaudibly, tears running down his face beneath the mask. The people said their respects to the dead man, and then shuffled away through the mud back to the town. Jason put the knife away and drew back out his sword. He wiped the blood from the blade and returned it to the sheath. He stood there waiting for everyone to return to the town. Once they had all left he drew back his hood and puked. He dropped to his knees and the repulsive liquid erupted from his mouth. The vile taste still in his mouth, he stood and wiped his lips on his sleeve. He looked back at Richard’s body and vomited again. He wiped his lips. He spit to get the vile taste out of his mouth. He walked around the back of the tree and grabbed the old dirty shovel leaned against it. It was an old iron shovel, the shaft made of dark solid wood. He lifted it up with one hand while he pulled the gloves out of his pocket with the other. Jason’s head felt light as he trudged along in the mud. He had about an hour before the guards would come to help move the body. As he passed through
the town, he heard the dull depressing tone of the church choir. He walked along the side of the church to the cemetery behind it. He got to the grave site and started digging furiously using the wet earth as an outlet of for his sad anger. Why did he have to be the one to end so many lives? After a few hours two guards named Kefir and Nicholi came with the body and dropped it in the newly dug hole carelessly. “Hey!” Jason exclaimed with disdain “at least put him in the ground with some respect you heartless toads.” Kefir sniffed proudly and said “Orders are orders, and no traitor in mine nor my master’s book should be put to rest with respect.” Nicholi nodded in agreement “Then how about treating him like another human being, ay?” Jason retorted loudly The guards looked at each other and then looked at Jason as if he were an ignorant child “See Digger…This is exactly why you dig graves” Kefir pointed at the hole then motioned to himself and Nicholi “and we” he smiled “Are entrusted to carry out orders.” “To damn hell with your orders!” Jason shouted a hand curling into a shaking fist “Good evening, grave digger “Kefir said quietly and both guards walked away. Jason was so irritated he buried the corpse and quickly walked fuming to the nearest tavern he walked into the one called the red Stallion a tavern right by the church. When he got to the front he bought some beers and a fifth of whiskey and drank. The anger swelled then deflated as he remembered the real big task at hand the long journey he had to go through tomorrow.
The Painters moon Eli Anton The darkness was thick, enough to create frightening images. A dim glow bobbed through the darkness, heading towards the far end of the room. The flame lowered, lighting wick after wick, the darkness shedding away. After setting the candelabra on the small wooden table, a sigh escaped my lips. The room was truly an enchantment, littered with furniture and covered in rays of pale and solid colors. Approaching the closet, I reached in, grabbing the wooden easel. After a moment of thoughtful debating, the easel took its' place several feet in front of a large couch Next from the closet, I pulled out a blank canvas, as well a large leather satchel. The weight of the bag was a bit uncomfortable but manageable. The satchel rested nice on the wooden table and my fingers pried it open before gently removing the items. After my painting set was laid out, I reached for a small glass mason jar filled with water. After the cap was removed, I dunked my paint brushes in the water, then dried them on my pant cloth. Footsteps could be heard in the other room from which I came from, the thought of the woman dawning on me. I hastily finished the rest of my preparations, pulling over a wooden desk chair, propping it next to the easel.
A knocking rapped at the door, soon followed by a male voice. “Sir, may she enter now?”. “Yes!” I replied “Please, bring her in.” The door opened and a young woman walked through, hesitantly at first but then became more assured of herself. She looked over to me with her dark, brown eyes, quiet. She wore a long, sleek, black dress. A large jeweled necklace, and her dark brown hair was pulled back from her pale skin into a loose bun. I rose my left arm, gesturing her to the couch. “Sit however you would like, Miss..” I spoke, watching her. The woman gave a small nod before walking towards the couch, passing me. A cough almost escaped my throat. Whatever fragrance she had been wearing was disgustingly sweet. I refrained from saying anything or allowing any physical reaction to pass through me. I focused back on her as she sat down on the left end of the couch. She lifted the skirt of her dress slightly as she crossed one leg over the other. She then leaned slightly towards the armrest, her own arms displayed in front of her body, hands lightly clasped. “Is that how you would like to be painted, Miss?” I asked, reaching for a brush. “Yes, Sir” She replied in a soft voice. A soft smile spread on my lips. Despite that obnoxious scent, she herself was quite the silent type. Dunking the brush into the black, I began stroking in the shadows and dark outlines. I paused in consideration, biting the handle end of the brush in thought. But soon regretting it, for it tasted like chemicals. It must have had paint on it, I assumed. I continued to paint, caressing every object and every curve carefully in my vision. Then mixing a little white in the black, using it for the reflections of light along her dress. I continued to work in silence, pausing often just to make sure I hadn't made a mistake. She sat perfectly still, not making a sound, which was helpful. Just like how the great, big sun helps humans see, flooding the world with its light. But this woman wasn't the sun, as I gazed at her I realized, she was the moon in my dark room. Inside Neal’s Mind Dane Crouse
Editor’s Choice
I didn’t want to go out, and yet my wife made me go with her. First, it was the barber, then the market, but then I found myself at the pier. I was all alone, cold, and I was waiting. What I was waiting for, I’m not sure. Still at the pier, there was a knocking sound. I looked behind me only to see a podium, and a crowd starting at me. I could hear a woman yelling, “Open the door!” The knocking was my beautiful wife knocking on the car door window. I unlocked the door and she climbed in. Her coat was soaking wet from the rain. “It’s freezing, Neal. You ought to be paying attention, yeah?” she said. I replied, “Yes, you say that every time, Dear.” . . . Next thing I knew, I was in the jungle, running from something. Whether it was a lion or an ape, I’m not sure. All I knew was that I had to pick up my pace. I wasn’t scared, more determined than anything. Determined to do what, though? A monkey screeched at me from my right, and I rolled forward and fell onto a hard sidewalk. Someone was helping me up, asking, “Are you alright? The light changed to red unexpectedly.” I was at the edge of an
intersection with a scraped knee. I said, “I’m alright, thanks.” And I continued running. . . . I arrived home to find my wife sitting quietly and reading contently. I know not to bother her when she’s reading, but I did anyway. “Would you like some tea, Honey?” I asked. As usual, I received no response. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the stove top to heat up the kettle. Simultaneously, smoke appeared above me and I was on the ground losing oxygen. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t yell. I knew it was my time. I closed my eyes. I woke up to a whistle; it was the tea kettle. I poured myself tea and sat down in the kitchen. . . . The following day I was laying down talking to myself. It seemed I was hungry. I stood up to go to the kitchen, but was stopped by a claw; no, a hand. A voice said to me, “You have to get out of your mind and into reality if you want to survive in this world, Neal.” I said, “I know, but I don’t know how.” “Get some rest. Today has been difficult,” my wife replied. I later found myself pulling the bedcovers up to my chin. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. . . . My therapist suggested these pills and thinking exercises to me. I asked my therapist, “Why? I’m not ill.” My therapist thought otherwise. As far as I knew, I just had a very vivid imagination. There was nothing wrong with that, in my opinion. My therapist tried to explain it to me by saying that I had a schizoaffective disorder, which caused me to have hallucinations, excessive daydreaming, and disorganized thinking. I didn’t quite understand that. I thought I was perfectly fine. . . . Suddenly, I was on top of a very tall, metal tower. The wind was blowing my hair around. Then the wind stopped, but I was falling. I don’t understand. I’m falling, but I can’t feel it. This ought to just be a dream, I thought. No, I’m just trapped inside my head. “Neal!” a voice said to me. I blinked, and found myself standing in my bedroom staring out the window. My wife was sitting up in our bed, and she asked, “How long have you been awake?” I replied, “Long enough,” as I glanced at the clock, which read 3:56 a.m. I returned to bed and attempted to fall back asleep. I succeeded in doing so. . . . Later that morning I was at my bank job, counting money. Someone very suspicious-looking walked in with another man, who was dressed in purple for some reason. These men had guns; one with a big one, and the other, the one in purple, had a small handgun. They also wore gas masks. I thought they looked fairly odd. Suddenly, a green smoke started to fill the bank. Others around me were scared, seeing as they were screaming and trying to call the police. I wasn’t scared. I felt fine. Was being scared something common among others? I wouldn’t know. I tried to talk to the man in purple, but he pushed me down to the ground and said, “Quiet! This is no time for talk. Watch yourself.” I lost my vision from the smoke and when I gained it back again, I
had a headache, tape around my mouth, and something cold and metal being pressed on my forehead. . . . Later, I heard a loud beeping, then a tone, like from a telephone, then nothing but silence. I couldn’t move or hear, but I could see. I was in the E.R., with wires attached to me. The nurses and doctors had protective masks on. Why? Could it have been the gas? I looked to see what the doctor was writing and it read, “Cause of death: Poisonous toxins.” Everything froze, the doctors, the fan, etc. Was this a hallucination or reality? Sadly, it was reality or else my wife would not have been there, crying. . . . Everything dissolved into white and I was standing again. I suppose it was time to walk around and see if I could find anything interesting. I tried to walk, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t. Whenever I tried to move, I couldn’t. Was this what it was like in the ‘afterlife’? I hoped not. I tried to walk again and this time I was able to. I walked around looking for anything that might mean something. I found a gate. I approached it but right as I did so, it dissolved into nothing. I supposed I should continue walking around… The End
Past Tense Charles Crumlett Blood pounded in his ears, his vision began to blur. He crawled back as quickly as he could, until his back collided with the wall. He barely felt the splinters and shards of metal in his hands and arms. The burn covering his left arm felt numb. There was a silhouette approaching through the smoke. His throat and lungs burned, adrenaline sped up his breathing. As the figure got closer the pain was blocked out by fear. The lack of a face to give to this beast of a person that had slaughtered his crew. The figure was almost upon him, although was still shrouded in smoke from the explosion and the overtaxed jump drive of his ship burning itself away. Finally his assailant emerged from the thick smoke. A Reaper. “Who the hell hired a Reaper?” He asked himself silently. His only answer was a silenced click, a flash, and a slight pain above his left eye. His vision went black and the pain was gone.
_____________________________________________________________________________ “Where are you going, Jax?” A woman’s voice said from behind him as he pulled the door shut. ‘Shit she’s awake.’ “I have something I need to do honey, I’ll be back in a little bit,” He said through the door, hopefully she hadn’t seen what he was wearing. “What are you wearing?” ‘Damn it.’ “It’s nothing. I just have to go I’ll be back in a few hours.” He jogged down the hall, trying to distance himself from the door as quickly as possible. He rounded the corner right as the door creaked open and heard a sigh from down the hall and the door shut again. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but I’ve got to do this,’ he thought as he made his way to the roof. He approached the door to the rooftop. Rooftops had become much more useful since the beginning of the new age. It's hard to believe that twenty years ago none of this existed. 19 years ago there had been a massive breakthrough in travel through the solar system; the jump drive. Jump drives had the ability to propel a jumpship at nearly the speed of light for shorter distances. They “jump” from planet to planet easily, but can't get out of the solar system very well. Jumpships were kept up on roofs of most apartment buildings. In this part of the city there weren’t many ships, only a few people could afford them, but they were well worth the hundred and eighty thousand credits if you knew how to use them. Jax tapped the screen on his apple watch. He had always wondered why the screen that was practically implanted into his arm was called a watch. It didn’t even really tell time anymore unless you specifically searched for it. With his watch he prepped his ship and had it brought down from the parking spaces, which were essentially giant racks that held all the ships of the people in that building. Most of the spaces were empty, but there was a slot for each apartment in the building. A large hydraulic arm picked his ship out of it’s spot and placed it on the launch pad. Another tap on his watch and the door swung open and a ramp slid out from the bottom of the opening. His watch connected directly to the ship’s system and could be used to control any part of the ship. As he walked up the ramp the lights throughout the ship turned on and there was a small buzzing as the drive started to heat up. As he passed through the threshold a familiar aroma filled his nostrils, a stale burnt smell. He hadn’t heard or seen anything but could sense someone behind him, about half way up the ramp. He spun around and saw Kate’s wide, bright blue eyes. Glancing down he noticed that she was dressed in gear similar to his. Thick armored plates of titanium fiber over the chest, waist, shins and forearms that were all connected by a thinner, flexible layer of the same material, and her helmet under her arm. The only differences were the size, hers being much smaller, and the emblem on the left shoulder. Jax’s depicted a golden eagle head and Kate’s was a green snake head “I’m coming with you Jax,” she said. “But…” How has she gotten ready so quickly? “NO. I am coming with you.” She had a no bullshit tone. She was already inside the ship and had connected to the system with her watch. She closed the door with a tap on it's screen, walked over and snuck him a kiss, and then sat in one of the seats. “Where are we going?”
“I have to go to Titan.” Jax murmured grumpily as he sat in the pilot’s seat. Another thing that baffled him was the need for a pilot’s seat and controls in a ship that ran purely on auto pilot. He could fly it himself, but he never did. It was more efficient without him at the controls. “What do you have to do on Titan?” She questioned. “I don’t know. I was called in by the Table.” He shifted in his seat. ‘What could they want?’ he thought. He saw that Kate’s face had darkened at the mention of the Table. The Table was a nickname for the council of the Reapers. They were all ex-fighters that now ran the mercenary group. The Reapers usually acted within the law and worked alongside the police and the military. If they broke the law without orders to they were called in front of the Table for disciplinary actions. Jax hadn’t broken any laws as far as he knew and the only other reason to have been called was for a promotion onto the Table, which Jax was nowhere near old enough or good enough for. The Table had made their base on Titan, the only inhabited moon beyond the asteroid belt. Floating around Saturn that little ball of rock was well out of the way of anywhere anyone would want to go, except the explorers who were set on reaching Pluto. Titan was unpopular. The only law there was the Table, who discouraged unnecessary death and mostly kept to themselves. “Why? What did you do?” Kate stared at him intensely, he could see the worry in her eyes. “I was just wondering the same thing. I haven’t had a job in a few weeks. I've barely even left the apartment.” The jump drive was warm and Jax put in the coordinates for Titan. Their trip to Titan was short, uneventful, and uncomfortably quiet. Moving near the speed of light made it take about 8 minutes. The sky on Titan was orange. Orange. The ground was coated in yellow and orange dust, a light wind blew it around, except in the city. The ship flew over dusty plains and past rocky cliffs and mountains. The city was between the two biggest mountains in sight. The city was full of life. Plants were everywhere. There were vines growing up the sides of buildings, trees were along the street every few feet, though most of the vegetation was very near to the ground, and many of the buildings were short and wide. The whole city gave off a warm glow. That was probably partially due to the giant heaters hidden beneath the streets that kept the plants and city's inhabitants from freezing to death. The ship landed in the hanger of the Table’s Headquarters, one of the only multi-story buildings in the city. Upon leaving the ship Kate and Jax were surrounded by guards. "Come with us" one commanded. Jax and Kate exchanged worried looks and were lead down a few hallways and into a large room. There was a large half circle table that took up almost half of the room. 9 people sat in evenly spaced seats around the table. One of them, an older man with pale white hair, but surprisingly very few wrinkles, spoke "Jax Smith step forward." The man's voice was deep. He didn't seem quite normal. Jax stepped into the middle of the round room. "You have been accused of unauthorized raiding of civilian property two nights ago. What do you plea?" "Innocent. I haven't gone on a mission in two weeks and 3 days. You can check my ship's flight record and location on that day."
"We have already taken the liberty of doing so. The records in your ship place you in the middle of the asteroid belt. Which is exactly where we got this footage from." He tapped a button and a screen behind him lit up. A video of a figure shrouded in smoke approaching an injured man on the ground. The figure stepped out of the smoke and was wearing armor similar to Jax’s. Actually exactly like Jax’s. It had the same emblem and everything. There was no one anyone could have taken it. It couldn't have been him though. He was at home. The imposter put a bullet in the middle of the other man's skull and walked away. "Is that armor in the video not the gear you are currently wearing? So if this wasn't you, then who was it? Where were you when this occurred?" The video went on to show the imposter walking back with a small crate. "I was at home all of last week. I never left" Jax's mind was going a million miles per hour. 'Who could have done this? How? The only person is Kate and she wouldn't.' He looked over at her, she was already staring at him, worry in her eyes. "Kate," He whispered "do you know anything about this?" Something changed in her eyes. A little bit of anger and something else. Fear? "No." She whispered back through gritted teeth. "Is there anyone who can testify as to where you were?" The councilman's voice ended their whispered discussion. "Kate... Wait no. She was gone that day." Jax looked back at Kate again. She looked like she had something to say. "I think we have enough information. You may wait in the hall. We will call you back in a moment." They walked slowly through the door, but as soon as it shut behind them Kate burst into a sprint. Jax looked to either side of him at the awestruck guards, shoved one into the wall, and shot off after Kate. "Where are you going Kate?" He panted. "The ship. We've gotta get out of here." She called back. "Why? Kate did you do all that?" She kept running. "Kate! Stop." She didn't. "Kate!" She sped around the corner into the hanger. The ship hadn't been moved yet. They ran in and the ship began to power up. Kate was already at the controls, getting ready to take off. There was a crazed look in her eyes. Jax still stood in the door. "Jax move so I can close the door." She gave him the death stare. "We don't have time for this!" He didn't move. "Jax move now!" "No! Not until..." He was cut off by Kate taking out her gun and firing 3 shots into his chest. Her expression changed, she looked scared, "I'm sorry Jax. I loved you." She slid her fingers into his armor right above his collarbone and pulled him close and kissed him. Jax could feel the hot blood seeping from the new tightly grouped holes in his chest, he felt light and distant. His head was spinning and his consciousness was fading. She kicked his body out the door onto the floor of the hanger and took off. He didn’t even feel the impact. Jax's vision went dark. Loved
Diary of a Memory Eli Anton September 3rd
[9:23 pm]
It’s raining outside, cold rain. I just entered my home after I had stopped at the pawn shop to obtain this blank book. I wonder when it’ll let up. I don’t hate the rain; it’s actually quite soothing to the ear. So I shall sit here, in front of a warm fire, and listen to the pitter patter of water tapping against my windows. My therapist said I should keep a journal- a diary in reality- she said it’ll help me cope. So here’s entry one. Did I do it right? September 4th
[6:03 am]
Heading to work soon. Just waiting for my coffee to finish brewing. It’s a nice little trickling sound, filling the empty kitchen. I’m not particular when it comes to coffee but it helps wake me up. It would be ridiculous of me, teaching a college class in the field of literature, when I myself can’t even keep my head up. The job is exhausting at times but the thrill of stories and their culture entices me. I think I’ll take a walk in the park near the campus after work, breathe in the fresh air, and take a peek at nature. My coffee is almost done, so time to put you away. [4:32 pm] The walk was soothing; I think I shall do it again tomorrow. There was a small bird, its’ feathers brown with a bright orange chest and a tummy of white. I thought for a moment, I remembered something, but it left in a blur. Oh well. September 7th
[5:12 pm]
I saw a young woman, she was very pretty. Slim and tall with a head of gold against her pale skin accented by a light blush from the slight chill in the air. I was sitting on the park bench and she happened to be walking by. Despite the mental stir whirling in my brain, I noticed her step off her path and head towards the bench. She parked herself a seat away from me with her satchel laying on her lap. Her eyes were a frosty, yet soothing blue that took in her surroundings carefully. Then without a word she withdrew a sketchpad I watched her from the corner of my eye only to recieve a glance and a smile. She returned to her sketchpad and I couldn’t help but watch her hands move beautifully along the paper. I hope she’s there tomorrow.
September 8th
[5: 23 pm]
She was there again! We never talked, just looked upon each other. I, watching her work her magic. Today she was drawing an old newspaper box, she even was able to mimic the rust lining the metal. She was almost done when she noticed that a small, brown bird had landed on the top of the box. It looked quite similar to the one I saw only a few days ago. I noticed her pause and then smile as she added the bird into her drawing. It was such a small, vibrant spot against the metallic scenery she had portrayed of the street. I will say i’m surprised she hasn’t even once questioned me, just lets me watch her. At the same time I feel the moment she’ll begin talking to me is the moment I’ll lose my courage. September 9th
[6:18 pm]
I feel like I’ve met her before, a long time ago. Like an old friend that’s come to visit. Except, I want more than just a friendship. I know I haven’t properly talked to her but I can’t help this urge. If she would just talk to me. If I could just talk to her… A name keeps ringing through my head. Ivy. I think her name is Ivy. September 12th
[8:46 pm]
I saw my therapist today. I told her about the woman I keep seeing in the park. She is happy that I’m finding a vent of relief, but warned me not to keep that vent on a person. She told me people come and go, and this woman was no exception. I’m not worried though. The only weird thing was, when I described what the woman looked like, her face went pale. I asked her what was wrong and she shook it off, telling me it just reminded her of someone she once knew, nothing more. I decided to trust her and headed on home. I didn’t tell her that the woman’s name was Ivy, after all, that was technically only my suspicion. September 13th
[5:17 pm]
I still sit on that bench and observe her drawing. It’s honestly fascinating to say the least. I called out the name this time. Ivy. She froze and turned her head towards me. She seemed shocked but somewhat happy. I felt confused as I looked at this, but also relieved, a weight having been lifted. What happened next was what shocked me. She set her sketch pad aside and scooted closer to me, reaching out and taking my hand in hers. She just held on, looking off at the scenery with a smile. Her fingertips felt cold but I didn’t mind. I just felt…. I feel.. happy. Ivy..
September 14th
[5:42 am]
I usually don’t remember my dreams, but last night, I had one so surreal. I saw her, sitting in my living room in an armchair, wearing a flowery red dress. I assume it was early summer in my dream. She was holding her stomach, similar to one who felt sick. But she only smiled, gazing downward. When she caught me staring she grew flushed. “W-What?” I couldn’t hear her voice, yet I knew that’s what she said. I merely replied “You’re cute, is all..” She let out a huff but couldn’t hide the smile any longer. “I know it’s early but I’m still so excited.” I could feel myself smiling. “Me too.” Then I woke up. And I’m still uncertain. Why was she so happy? I think I’m going to see my therapist today, maybe she’ll be able to understand this dream. [7:38 pm] After I updated my therapist on what was going on, she seemed to grow somber. She gave me a set of instructions then handed me a gold locket in the shape of a bird. She told me to wait till I arrived home before opening it. So I sit here now, anxiously staring at this locket. I’m home, so I might as well open it... ...God, I’ve been a fool.. I think I’m retiring to bed early. My head hurts terribly. September 15th
[6:13 pm]
I didn’t sit this time, I walked up to her. Ivy gave me a weird and then panicked look. She knew what was about to come but she knew it had to be done, so she sat there with mournful eyes. It didn’t stop me. I reached to caress her cheek but my hand phased right through her head. I looked at her as she began to fade, my eyes filled with mixed emotions and tears. With a small smile, her lips gently made out the word. “Goodbye..” Whether a ghost or a delusion of mine, I will never know. I stared at the bench for a while, a small white tipped orange feather sitting in her place, before finally wandering back home. My beloved wife.. I forgot about you for so long, but now I remember. I remember our days together, I remember the child we almost were given the chance to cherish, I remember it all before you perished.. Most of all, I remember how you grew on me...like Ivy.
Night Drive Trinidad Garcia
Hands on the wheel I feel zealous. I'm not restrained by anything other than the seatbelt that is holding me in my seat. As I drive I listen to the rumbling of empty coffee cups and energy drinks on the car floor. Every late night, every single fight had led me here, so I can get rid of my fears. I've driven down this rocky road every single day to every other night, but never seemed to find the right path to take. I'm not one to live an insipid life. I need passion that excites, passion that ignites. . I just want to live. Become audacious and not fear the world and what it holds. I just want to drive and not worry about the speed limit. I want to feel the rush! No rush was needed after the night I met you. The sleepless nights spent on top of the rooftop of the small car I own with the girl of my dreams. During rainy nights we spend it inside the parked car, hearing the rain fall gently on the roof, music gently playing in the background, our eyes meeting one another. We have all the time in the world to get a grip on the fact that we don't last, but that does not matter. This solitude drive turns to a trip for two, the trip for two turns to one of solitude. I may not know where this road takes me but all I could say as the stars that shine through my windshield are great from the driver's seat. I could also say that view of you is all so great. Looking out the window watching the trees pass us by, smiling at what life holds. I have my hand on the wheel, the other intertwined with yours, smiling on what my hand holds. That old car I drove when I was 17 has so many memories I hold dearly.
The Devil Made Me Do It Andrea Huichochea He stood there on the balcony, under the starry night, with the moonlight shining down upon him. His beauty was incomparable. It was unfair really. Black hair darker than the night sky. Stone cold, grey eyes held murderous intent with a promise of death. Along with a wicked smirk, so lustful. It was his wings that captured your attention. Large would be an understatement. Sharp black feathers coated everywhere. They weren’t your ordinary bird feathers. No, these were fierce and deadly looking, appearing as if they were made of steel. About 14 ft. of a wingspan. Wings so beautiful yet undeniably deadly. Magnificent. His tone and defined body was nothing to be caught short of either. It only added to his glory. His hands were large and looked as if he could crush a man’s skull with them with only just a simple squeeze. He closed his eyes and arched his back and slowly inhaled. Then he raised his head and let out a god's roar that rattled the stars. The devil has been unleashed.
Letter Rachel O’Brien Dear Freshman, You’re just starting out in a whole new place, a place that you’re going to look back on for the rest of your life. Right now, you have the power to decide whether that flashback will be nostalgic or if it will make you cringe. High school is a time where you discover who your friends are, and more importantly, who you are. That’s another thing, all the friends you have now will just be an awkward glance in the hallway in a few years. Most of your “friends” are really just those people that you ask for the homework or help on a project. Ultimately, make the best of your high school years, it really does go by quicker than you think. One day you will be sitting in the cafeteria, looking up at the seniors and thinking, “man they look like such adults”, thinking you are so small in comparison. The next day that’s you, and you’re about to start your life, leave home, and everything you’ve ever known. It’s all so overwhelming. You’re going to wish that was you again, that little freshman. You’re going to wish you tried out for that sports team instead of being too scared to get cut. You’re going to wish you asked that girl to the dance, but you let the fear of rejection take over you. Soon enough it’s graduation and prom and you’re paying for your cap and gown. You ask yourself how time went so fast and you end up reminiscing and wishing. Wishing you had done more, made more memories. So don’t be frightened of what people are going to say if you date the weird girl or join the chess club. In reality, none of the things people said will matter in a few years. Ten years down the line, it won’t matter if you partied with the popular kids or not. But ten years from now, you’ll never know if that girl was supposed to be your high school sweetheart, because you never took the leap. So do what you want and never be afraid to try new things. After all, high school is a time where you figure out who you are. Go ahead and reinvent yourself, and then do it again, and again after that. Find yourself and find your friends. Make big memories in your small town. These could be the best four years of your life, but it’s all up to you, Sincerely, A Graduating Senior
Ivy Trinidad Garcia
Looking at her reminds me so much of her mother. In everything she does from her facial expressions to her tantrums, to the actual way she looked. She resembles her perfectly. I still remember the first date we had, when we were only seventeen. I had to work that night and was hoping to get off early so I can get ready. Sadly, I didn't. I ended up being late, half an hour past eight which was the time I would pick her up. I arrived to a four story brick home, with big windows and bright lights.I had never seen such a nice house. I pulled into her driveway and walked to the door, nervous of what she would think. I should've worn something different. I don't think she's into guys with leather jackets, plaid shirts and converse. I felt so ordinary. "Hey" she said "Hi" I nervously blurted. I walked into her house to see her parents. The house had a fantastic interior, nothing I was accustomed to seeing. Her parents seemed like your ordinary parents. Her dad was tall, with grey hair and some wrinkles under his eyes. Her mom had short blond hair, and looked really good for her age. "These are my parents" She waved towards them. "Hello, my name is Tyler. Nice to meet you. " I shook their hands. "Richard, pleasure to meet you." Her father firmly said. That's when their big puffy dog runs in. Anita's mom grabs him by the collar. "Sorry, he loves new company" "No it's alright" "Do you like dogs, Tyler?" "Are you kidding I love them!" "Okay so we're gonna let him go so he can welcome you. Don't worry he's just gonna try to jump on you or lick you. He doesn't bite" "That's okay" Her dog jumps on me licking my cheek and barking from excitement. While I was playing with their dog, Anita grabs her coat and kisses her mom and dad on the cheek. "You two have fun" her mom says "We will" I concluded. Then we walked out the door. I opened the door for Anita, like any gentleman would and we went off with our night. The night moved faster than I wished it would. I wanted to spend more time with her. We went for frozen yogurt at Yogurtland. We were trying to kill some time since we planned on watching a movie but it started at 10 and it was only 8:50. As we ate frozen yogurt, I asked. "Hey do you wanna go to the park?" "This late at night? “ “Yeah why not? I know it’s kinda random but the night is still young...sorta. Haha..” “Yeah sure that would be nice. You sure you aren't too scared of the dark?” “Me? No, of course not. Dark Is my middle name.” “I thought you didn't have a middle name” she cooed sarcastically. “Okay you caught me there’’
“Haha, Tyler, you are something else.�
So we went to the Hoosier grove. I parked in the parking lot on the side, right next to the fire station and auto zone. "So the park is kinda all the way over there." I point to the swings that are far away from the lot. You could barely see them. I turned the engine of the car off, so the music was still playing. We talked all night. We didn't run out of things to say. We didn't even actually go in the park. "Can I play a song from my phone?" She asked "Yeah of course" so I handed her the auxiliary cord. A piano played in the intro.
Little did you know, how I'm breaking as you fall asleep. Little did you I'm haunted by the memories... "I love this song! I really want to dance to it." She exclaimed. "Then why don't we?" I lowered the car windows and turned up the music. "Come on, let's go outside." I motioned. We slow danced to the song. I placed my hands in her hips, she placed her hands on my shoulders. It probably looked weird to all the people passing by in their cars, but it didn't look weird from where I was standing. Her eyes glowed, just like the moonlight that was above us. She smiled and that made me smile. Later on that night we were still dancing. I'm a horrible dancer and didn't know what to do. Good thing she was a great dancer and showed me all the moves. We went from slow dancing to bachata to the whip, how does that happen? Doesn't matter, I hadn't had a night like this in months. "I think we missed the movie" I exclaimed. "It doesn't matter; I'd rather be doing this." she said, laying her head in my chest. After a few more songs, we then drove away. We just drove the whole night. We talked and listened to more music. It was amazing. Simple, but amazing.
It was 12:30 am when I dropped her off at her house. When I parked in the driveway I told her "Wait here." I got out of the car to open her door. Turns out it was locked. She laughed at me but liked what I was trying to do, so I laughed too. I walked her down the brick pathway that lead to her front door. " Well I guess this is it huh?" "Yeah I'm afraid so." She whispered. She looked at me as if she was waiting for something to happen. So I told myself why not, go for it, she might want a kiss. So we got closer and closer and kissed. One kiss lead to another. It took us 15 minutes before we stopped. "One more for the road" I said then kissed her again. She grabbed both my hands and said "Now I really don't wanna go back to school tomorrow. I'm gonna be dreading these next three
weeks." " I will wait for you when you get back from Marquette." "I never thought I would like a guy like you." "What do you mean a guy like me?" I asked. "You weren't what I expected. You're edgier than guys I would normally date. But you're funny, sweet and nice and I like that...a lot." "Oh, okay. "Okay" she smiled "Good night, see ya later" "See ya later" I answered smiling.
I stopped daydreaming. "Daddy! Daddy! Can we get some ice cream?" "Of course sweetie" I approved. I got off the park bench and we headed to the ice cream man in the small yellow car. She grabbed birthday cake ice cream, her favorite. Just like her mother's. As soon as she got her ice cream she wanted to go back to play. "I'm gonna go on the swing now daddy." she added "Okay honey. Just be careful, okay?" "Ottay!" I head back to the park bench and another memory came to mind. It was the day I visited her all the way in Milwaukee. We've been seeing each other for a couple months now. We face timed every night before we went to bed but it wasn't the same. So I decided to drive up there and surprise her one day. I got there with flowers in my hand. I asked around if they knew Anita Harris. Until I found a girl from the same floor, who guided me to her room. "Is it this one right here?" I point at the door "Yup, that’s the one." She said. I knocked at the door. When she opened it, her face lit up. She jumped on top of me, wrapping her legs around me and kissing me. "Oh my god, I can't believe you came all this way from Streamwood." she said. "What could I say? I really love long drives, haha." "Come over here you" She pulled me in her room, and kicked her roommate out. We kissed all night. She liked the way her skin felt next to mine. Comfort and warmth was what she felt. Her hands running down my back, my lips running down her neck. She really did miss me. In the morning when I woke up, I saw her next to me. She was on the edge of the bed. "Hey why are you so far away? Come closer" I said in my sleepy voice. That's when I pulled her towards me, her face on my chest. She kisses my chest and says "I wish I can fall asleep next to you every night. I've never felt so comfortable in my life." "Me either. Do you wanna get breakfast?" "Sure, but can we lay like this for a couple more minutes. I'm lazy to get up." "How about hours? We can stay like this for a few hours"
"Yesss, I'm cool with that." "I feel bad for your roommate." "Kate? Don't worry she does that all the time to me. Plus, Ashley and Jordan probably took her in their room." "Oh, okay. Now I don't feel as bad, hah." I remember thinking that I could live in this moment, which scared me the most since good moments never seem to last. One night Mr. Hain had talked to me about future opportunities, for performing. He saw how well my band and I had been doing and he pulled some strings to get us a gig at the House of Blues. I was very excited and couldn't wait to tell Anita about it. I got in my car and hurried on to her house. I stopped at the red light, and waited anxiously for it to turn green. When it did, I accelerated and that's when I saw the lights of an oncoming pickup truck hitting me on the right side of the car. Everything went black. ===================================================================== That night Anita received a call from Tyler's parents, telling her that he's been in an accident and was currently in a critical condition. Hearing this drowned Anita's eyes with tears. She quickly rushed to Sherman Hospital where they had him. It took a while for her to arrive since she was still in Marquette. Once she arrived and got inside, she hugged Tyler's parents outside the room he’d been kept in. “How is he Mr. and Mrs. Gonzales?” Anita asked, trying to hold her tears. “We don't know honey. The doctors just told us he's in bad shape.” Mrs. Gonzales said bursting into tears. “I want to see him.” she said Tyler’s mom shook her head in agreement, letting her go inside. She waked in the room, he had a bunch of scratches and blood all over his face and arms. There were tubes connect to him to keep him breathing. “Hey baby.” She said teary eyed. “I can't believe something like this would happen to you. I always say how stupid it is for people to text and drive." She hissed furiously. She carefully laid right next to him, placing her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “Remember that one day you came to visit me at Marquette? You brought your guitar and played it outside my door. I was studying for my Chem test for the next morning. I remember being so mad because I couldn't concentrate. When I opened the door to tell them to quiet down with the guitar playing, but realized it was you playing. I ended up hitting you on the face with the door haha” she said with tears running down her cheeks. "You remember when you asked me to my senior prom? Your friends helped you to ask me. It was beautiful. There were rose petals everywhere, that led from my front step to you. There was a beautiful sunset...and each one of you had a poster...except yours was upside down. I thought it was so funny and cute, even though you felt like you messed up. That's what makes me fall in love with you every day. You try doing something nice and romantic, trying to be all smooth but you’re not, you're a goofball and I love that about you. My goofball. I wouldn't have it any other way. There's something I want you to hear, if you can even hear me.” She took a pause.
“Baby, I'm pregnant. I found out this morning, and wanted to tell you...but this happened. Please, I need you. We need you. I can't let you go. I want our baby to grow with his or her amazing father. I always knew you'd be a great dad. So I need you to fight this through, this is all you. I can’t live without you.” Months pass by and Tyler hasn't woken up yet. He's still in the hospital bed. Anita waits each day, as her belly starts to grow. Finally, six months later he awoke. ===================================================================== I woke up to Anita sleeping in the chair next to me, blankets covering her. “Wha...what's going on?” I asked, wondering what has happened. That's when she woke up. “Tyler, you're awake!!” She got up and hugged me. I felt her stomach. “Honey, are...you... are you pregnant?” I asked, confused. “Yes I am, I was gonna tell you the news as soon as I came back from Marquette but you got in the car accident.” “Oh my god, that's amazing! But wait...what about school? “I finished my second year there and asked if I can come back once I have the baby. So yeah, I'll go back once little Ivy is born.” She said rubbing her stomach. “Ivy? We’re having a girl?’ I asked. “Yes, we are.” “Wow. I guess I'm gonna have to buy a shotgun now for when one of those young hooligans want to take my baby out.” “Haha, right” she said sarcastically. The doctors came in to check on me. They told me I was in a healthier state. A week has passed since my accident. I picked up extra shifts at work. I left home early and came back late. My now beautiful wife always tries to stay up to eat dinner with me but always ends up sleeping. One night when I came home from work I saw her there sleeping on top of her book in the kitchen table with her reading glasses on. It was perfect. She looked adorable. I took the book from her cheek. She had drooled all over it. I lightly tapped her on the shoulder. “Anita, baby, wake up.” “Whaa...Tyler, you’re home.” She said, rubbing both of her eyes with her fingers. “Where's my book?” She asked after her eyes opened. “I left it on the living room table.” It was really still in my hand out of view, but I wondered how long it would take her to notice. “Wow, thanks a lot now I lost my page. You jerk.” She said jokingly. Throwing a banana from the fruit bowl beside her at me. “Ow, what was that for? ‘For losing the page I was on! It doesn't even matter, I read it like twice so it’s alright.” “Really?” “Yes, haha” “I hate you sometimes, you know that right? “No, you love me quite a lot actually” “And you love books more than me.” I retorted jokingly.
“Not necessarily true. I love you more than books and that says a lot. I love you more than all the Stephen King books put together.” “Wow that much? “Yup” “I'm so honored” “You should” She says looking up at me, standing on her tip toes. “This is our story and you are my favorite character in this story.” She says kissing me. “And I love you Mrs. Anita Gonzales more than I love Coke.” “Wow, now I'm honored.” She gasped playfully. It finally came time to it, I was finally going to become a father. Everything in my life led up to this moment. Anita came out of the bathroom, next to the living were I was sitting reading a music article. “My water just broke.” She said holding her hands to her stomach. ‘What?!? Oh okay, let me grab my keys and jacket.” “Jacket?? I'm about to have the baby!” “Okay then, no jacket it is. Let's roll baby.” I put her in the back of my new trailblazer. I hurried to the closest hospital there was from our apartment in Hoffman. I kept asking her, if she was doing okay. I ran red lights; I did everything possible to make sure I got to the hospital on time. Which probably wasn't a good Idea When we got there I parked in front of the emergency entrance and put my hazard lights on. I ran inside and went directly to the nurse standing behind the counter. “My wife is about to give birth!” “Betty, grab a wheelchair! A woman is about to give birth.” She called to another nurse. “Is she in your car upfront?” “Yes, she is.” “She's in the car parked upfront!” She told the other nurse. They had me fill out some papers as they were taking her inside. Once I filled them out, they gave me scrubs to wear. They told me they had to give Anita a C-section. I went into the room they were performing the C-section in. The room was dark and there was A light over the operating bed. There was a doctor and 2 nurses to assist him. I held her hand. They started performing the operation, and as they did, something went wrong. I started to hear a bunch of beeping sounds. There was blood everywhere. Everyone seemed to be in a panic. I see more nurses and doctors come in. Now I'm the one in the panic. What is happening to my wife? I look at her and despite her unconscious state, she seems to be in great pain. The doctors ask me to leave the room. I refused, so they tried to kick me out. I was still holding Anita’s hand; I didn't want to let go of her. But the doctors tore our hands apart and I was no longer holding on to her. “That’s my wife! I need to be in there with her!” “Sorry sir, you need to leave.” The doctor tells me as he pushes me out. “But that's my wife! I need to be there with her!!” I stressed repeatedly. They didn’t let me back in. I suddenly snap out of it. I see little Ivy playing around on the monkey bars.
“Hey, Ivy! Be careful around the monkey bars, baby!” “Okay daddy!” She chirped from a distance. As I watched my daughter play, I could hear someone approaching me. "Hey handsome, how was my rock star’s day?” “It was good, love, yours?” “It was alright. Happy I got my birthday cake ice cream.” Anita said. “How’s Ivy doing?" She murmured, eating her ice cream. "She's doing good, having fun." I confirmed. She curled right next to me on the park bench, inching closer towards me. She interlocked her arm into mine, and rested her head on my shoulder, like when we were younger. Now twenty-seven years old, we still act like when we were seventeen and I still love her the same way I did when we were seventeen.
THE OTHER WOMAN Anonymous “He has money on the side”, Camilla says to her sister Carmen who was admiring the tendrils of a rosebush, the buds closed tightly against the night. Doves cooed in the rafters above them, through the glass of the aviary the Eiffel Tower hung in the night air, a suspended collection of whiteyellow lights. Carmen turns to Camilla, and raises an eyebrow, her lips puckering into a small frown “Nothing scandalous,” Camilla laughs, recognizing the look of doubt on her sister's face. Carmen smiles at her sister. “Well you certainly look well.” In truth her sister was hypnotizing when she was in love, she had always been this way, she had a languorous beauty about her. Back home she would sun herself by the Riviera, and men would stumble upon her, delighted, their boyish curiosity aroused by the simple and stunning allure of her sister. Camilla had a way of wrapping around men, and none would complain, to have such a woman at their arm, they would showcase her like an exotic pet.
“Put these on.” Camilla said, pulling from her purse a knotted silk handkerchief. Inside hand were earrings of glistening rubies clustered inside gold pomegranates, their eerily life-like quality showed they were made by a well-known virtuoso of the craft and fittingly, they were exquisite. “How lovely, they look good enough to eat,” Carmen murmured, her compact mirror in hand, pleased with what she saw. “Where is he now?” she asks, referring to her the man who had flown her sister to Paris, and had her situated in this hotel. It was lavish beyond what her sister could afford, but she blended in seamlessly with the women of class and education that fluttered through the foyer like birds of paradise. Camilla’s face darkened, her tongue ran over her lip quickly, something she always did when irritated. “Your sister Camilla has a temper, Carmen, tread lightly.” Carmen's mother had told her this when they were younger and Camilla’s latest heartbreak had left wineglass tears throughout the house. “He had to cancel our evening.” Camilla snaps, looking away towards the Eiffel tower. Carmen watches her sister slender swaying form, and decides it best to leave the garden.
The Viper Hannah Murphy Shane didn’t know many pleasures in life. In fact, he only knew four; Sleeping, eating, piano music, and his mom. To put it candidly, his mom was his only friend. But why didn’t he have friends? He seemed relatively normal. He brushed his hair, ate 3 meals a day, played video games, he had a job, he could even carry a pleasant conversation. So what was it that set him apart from others? What made people avoid eye contact with him in the hallways at school? There wasn’t anything evidently strange about him, so surely it would be easy for him to make friends. At least, it should be easy for him. Well, he simply could not have close relationships. His mom was difficult enough to be around. He was vastly better off on his own. Of course, there wasn’t anything evidently strange about him, but if you take a closer look, you would see that there is a snake in his head.
A viper, more like. And a vicious one at that. It slithered around his brain, squeezing and pulsing, attempting to gain control over his every thought and action. It had the most venomous of fangs. They were so sharp they could cut through a rock, so dangerous they could take almost any life, and so pearly that they would have you mesmerized as they sunk deep into your flesh. Oh, and it was bloodthirsty. It craved the copper fluid so much that its teeth pulsed with an intense ache. When you are that desperate for something, you tend to seek it out. But this viper had a high disadvantage when it came to that aspect; it was trapped in Shane’s crowded skull. Its actions were very limited. He could writhe and twist around Shane’s brain all day, but there was no escaping. The teenaged skull of this lonely kid was the viper’s permanent home. There was one thing the viper could do to satisfy his desires, however; it could whisper. Surely, whispering was a strange ability for a viper to have. But surely, this wasn’t your usual viper. The viper whispered heinous things to Shane. Its tongue was a constant flicker in Shane’s ear. Although it was silent most of the time, its presence always demanded to be felt. And when it wasn’t silent, it was so loud that Shane could hear nothing else. It was not in any way friendly. Its smooth whisper was doomed to haunt Shane’s ears with evil words telling him to kill, rip, shred, and tare other people. But Shane had no desire to do these things; he was not a violent man. Benevolent though he may be, it was hard to be around another person when a voice loomed over his head telling him to kill them. To a problem this drastic and never ending, there was really only one solution. Shane spent his days isolated in his room, trying to pass the time as the viper slithered around his skull, impatiently waiting for the opportunity to strike.
Our Love Story Has Just Begun Andrea Huicochea Ninety minutes. That’s how long it took for my dad to pick me up. He was called over an hour ago but he had to finish his meeting. It was “important,” he said. More important than picking up his daughter at a police station. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s been this way ever since mom died. Sometimes I think he blames me for her death. Sitting on a steel chair with my hands cuffed behind my back is exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds. Hearing nothing but the ringing of a nearby telephone, police officers laughing amongst themselves, and the occasional “I didn’t do it” from a man in custody. The entrance doors opened to reveal my father looking as emotionless as ever. At least that’s what the people who didn’t know him well enough would think. But his mouth formed into a thin line, firm jaw and quick stride said something different. He was upset-no-furious is more like it. Good. Walking over to the main desk he said, “I am here to pick up my daughter, Charlotte Pierce.” The lady at the front desk asked for his ID. He handed it over to her in a sheepish manner- as if he was embarrassed for the lady to know who his identity was. After the women checked his ID, her face paled, looking shocked. I don’t blame her. My father was well known around these parts. He was a powerful man. A man to be feared. The lady at the front desk nodded in acceptance and walked behind me and used a key from her many key chains to unlock the handcuffs. Rubbing my wrists instinctively, I made my way towards my father, looking into his eyes the entire time. Into the same hazel eyes that I have known for the past eighteen years. Not a word was said. After waiting for my father to finish signing the release papers, we both walked out towards the car. I rolled my eyes at what laid in front of me, there were many people who gathered around my father’s Bentley snapping pictures of themselves by it or just the car. Honestly, they acted as if they never seen a moving vehicle before. With a fierce glare from my father, they all scattered away in frenzy. We didn’t say anything the entire ride. The silence was killing me. I rather have him look at me with distaste and disappointment rather than have him not look at me at all. As we pulled up at the drive way the security buzzed us in, I saw the same house I have been growing up in my whole life. It was no secret that my father was a wealthy man. And it showed with his Armani suits, his endless collection of cars, and let’s not forget about our mansion. Make no mistake, I was not bragging. This may be where I grew up but I haven’t considered it a home. Not for a long while, at least. Before I could make my way towards my bedroom to call Lillian about how eventful my day was, I was stopped by my father. “We need to talk.” Hiding the shock on my face that he was the one that actually started the conversation I said, “what about?” feigning confusion. He was having none of it. “Drugs? Really, Charlotte? I thought I raised you better than this!” Oh. No. He. Didn’t. “Raise? You actually have the nerve to say you raised me? Are you kidding me?!,” I was raising my voice now. “Ever since mom died you haven’t been there at all! After her funeral you would shut yourself up in your office and say you were too ‘busy’ to spend time with me.” “Don’t you raise your voice at me young lady!” I kept going. “I let it go at first, thinking it was your way of coping. But then you were suddenly busy all the time. So don’t you dare say you raised me when you know damn well it was the countless nannies and maids that did!”
“How dare you use your mother as an excuse? Have you no shame? We did not raise you to be-to be- to be some addict,” he said with distaste. “I am not an addict! Like I told those cops, I was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe if you knew me well enough like a real father would you’d know that,” I sneered. “A night club, eh? Quite the wrong place to be,” he said sarcastically. He began to make his way up the stairs, leaving our argument unfinished. But I wouldn’t let him. Not until he answered one final question. “Dad.” He stopped and turned his head around. “What?” he sneered. “Do you even know what day it is?” I asked him, keeping my head down. Taking a moment to think he replied, “It’s July 11 . What about it?” Taking a deep breath, I willed myself not to cry. “It’s my birthday.” Finally, opening my eyes to look at him, I saw him furrow his eyebrows in confusion then a look of annoyance. "Is this what all this is about?” After recovering from my shock, “You forgot my birthday. You forgot your only child’s birthday,” I whispered astonish. “Don’t look at me like that, Charlotte,” he scolded. “It’s your fault, really. You should’ve mentioned something,” he said rolling his eyes in annoyance. I don’t think my father has ever said anything so cruel to me before. And it hurt. God damn it hurt. Tears started welling up in my eyes. “I shouldn’t have to! I should’ve woken up today with a bouquet of roses sitting on my bed side table with a little Happy Birthday balloon. I should’ve woken up to a buffet of pancakes waiting for me on the kitchen table. I should’ve woken up to my father waiting for me in the kitchen with his arms wide open, ready for me to jump into them. But honestly, none of that would’ve have mattered.” I sighed, suddenly exhausted. “All I wanted was for you to say ‘Happy Birthday, Charlotte.’ Is that really so much to ask?” It was a moment before he responded. “Honestly, you’re such a spoiled child,” he said before slamming the door on my face. th
On The Eve of Battle Nick Hall-Skank Taelord stood, looking out across the vast plains spread before him. The air was tense as though the whole universe was holding its breath, waiting. It was dark; a storm was brewing over the volcanic mountain on which he stood. The black clouds matched his massive bat wings just as the softly glowing lava flows slowly streaming down the mountain matched his red skin. A red and black Valkyrie. The last Valkyrie to look as he was killed nearly a thousand years ago, exterminated by the bird winged races of Valhalla out of fear. Now the tables were turned; legions of red Valkyrie and other dark creatures were at his command, prepared to destroy all the races of the Universe who refused their rule, especially Valkyrie. The irony was not lost on Taelord and he let out a rare chuckle. Of course he too had once looked as the other Valkyrie; humanoid in every way except for the great feathered wings growing from his back. But that had been a long time ago, before he had discovered Utgar… Taelord’s thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling noise behind him. Irked though he was by the disturbance, this was not the time to dwell on the past; the final battle in the war to free his master would soon commence. Taelord turned to watch as his most powerful generals joined him
on top of the mountain. First came Khosumet, a bipedal wolf creature from the vast deserts on the planet Feylund. Then there was the cruel Runa, also a red Valkyrie. Finally came Brunak, Taelord’s lead general. Brunak was an unnatural creature, the result of the magical mixing of a troll and a manticore. He too was from the planet Feylund. They stood in silence, waiting for Taelord to speak. “Give me your reports.” Taelord commanded. “The Marro are amassing on the eastern flank of the mountain,” growled Khosumet, “their ranks are several thousand strong and growing.” “This is not news to me,” Taelord uttered coldly, “I have been watching the progression of their armada for some time while you slink in the shadows. Cowardly whelp! Runa, I trust you have something worthy to report?” “Legions continue to arrive from Mitensol and the Feylund. Your army will be at full power soon.” Runa said smiling, “I trust you will allow me to fly out with the first attack?” “Ah Runa, you are always so eager to please me. You know I have already given that honor to Brunak.” Taelord said, gesturing to the hulking beast. “Brunak, what is your plan of attack?” “Trolls and Faintooths will take the front lines, clearing the way for Khosumet’s wolves,” Brunak uttered in his deep, harsh voice, “Valkyrie will provide aerial support, Moltarns will bring up the rear.” “Your plan pleases me Brunak, be ready to lead the charge during the first assault. Now ready yourselves for battle,” Taelord commanded, “you have received instruction from your master, now I must wait for instruction from mine.” The three creatures left Taelord alone on the mountain top. Now he waited, listening. As he did so, he watched the progression of his enemies. From his vantage point they looked like scurrying insects as they ran about their duties; sharpening swords, loading guns, pitching tents, tending to beasts of burden. Six armies besides his own lay before him, each with their own motives and agendas. Some wished only to defend their homelands, others sought domination. They represented a myriad of races and cultures; Valkyrie, elves, sentient machines, Roman soldiers, Orcs, samurai, and the Marro, a strange alien race. The six armies shared only two things in common; they had all been brought here through portals that transcend the boundaries of space and time and they would all crumble before Taelord’s army of evil creatures like paper before a flame. There was only one armada that Taelord had the slightest premonitions about facing in battle; the one lead by his sister. *** Taelord was not always known as Taelord. He did not always have red skin and bat wings, nor were his motives always dark in nature. He once had the wings of a bird, as a typical Valkyrie does, and amber colored skin like the rest of his mother’s people. He was a prince, the child of two great monarchs. His mother, the Empress Kiova, ruled over the desert Valkyrie of
southern Valhalla. She was never married. How then did Taelord, known then by a different name, come to be? He was an illicit child; a mistake. His father had come to his mother’s empire to solidify the waning relationship between their two peoples. After a night of festivities to welcome the newcomer (and many droughts of wine), it can be deduced that his parents engaged in less diplomatic activities. After a few short weeks, his father went back to his mountain kingdom far to the north, unaware that he had conceived a son that would ultimately lead to his demise. Taelord was born during the Month of Sands, when the sandstorms were at their worst. Immediately her people were suspicious of their new prince. Their beloved Empress was not married, meaning the princeling was a bastard child; this fact alone caused many to disparage him. Of further insult was the fact that he had characteristics of a northern mountain Valkyrie, meaning he was probably descended from a man of that arrogant race. Needless to say, few were supportive of their newfound princeling. Most of his childhood years were spent exploring the stark desert alone, or in his mother’s vast library reading scrolls that told of ancient kingdoms and faraway lands. Although he had never met him, his mother had told the young prince who his father was; Odnir the Great, Skylord of the Eaglewings. He nervously awaited the day when he would go north to meet him. That day arrived in the prince’s teenage years. He journeyed north across the sea and through vast forests until he finally reached the mountain realm of his father, land of the Eaglewings. His arrival was, shall we say… unexpected. The welcoming was far from warm, for Odnir already had a family. He had been married and the father of daughter when he made that fateful visit south all those years ago. The queen left in disgrace shortly after the prince’s arrival, any chance of the prince having a caring father vanished with her. Odnir came to loath his son. His people blamed the prince for tarnishing the stature of their esteemed king. They went further, claiming that their king had been seduced by the Empress using magic or trickery. This enraged the southern Valkyrie, who blamed Odnir for defiling their beloved Empress. The rift between the two estranged nations widened. Years progressed as the young prince split his time between both kingdoms. Odnir clearly favored the prince’s older sister Raelin. She had formed an uneasy relationship with the young prince, but did nothing to defend him from their father’s hatred. Tension mounted between father and son. Finally the dam broke. On a clear summer morning, Odnir and the prince were heard arguing intensely, as they frequently did. The argument escalated to violence when the prince drew his sword, making a stand against his father’s tyranny. Odnir gladly accepted the challenge. They crashed around the palace in a whirlwind of feathers and blades. Raelin could have protected her brother from their father’s wrath, but chose instead to watch from the sidelines. Had she stepped in to protect her brother, following events may have been very different. Finally, the prince escaped his father, but was banished forever. He was never seen again by the people of either nation. Everyone was relieved to finally be rid of his presence. Everyone except his heartbroken mother.
What happened to the prince after his banishment? His life took quite an unexpected turn. It started one night in a dream. He heard a whisper, faint at first. As time progressed, the terrified youth heard the voice growing louder. Eventually, his curiosity piqued and he listened. The voice tempted the prince with unimaginable power and, more importantly, revenge. All he had to do was follow its commands. The prince could not resist such an offer and soon found himself being guided out into the wilderness. Here, the prince found something amazing; a portal. Built long ago by a highly advanced race, these portals were used as gateways between places and times. The portals took the young Valkyrie to distant worlds, many of them empty, wild places. The prince did not linger for the voice was guiding him to a very specific place; the realm of Mitensol. It was here that the Valkyrie learned about the owner of the voice that guided him in dreams. The voice belonged to an ancient terror; Utgar. Utgar was one of six ancient spirits that had existed before our universe was born. The six spirits existed in balance, until one became restless. This was Utgar, the Spirit of Chaos. Quietly, its power grew. When the other five finally sensed an imbalance, it was almost too late. By uniting, the five stopped Utgar from becoming all powerful. The force was so great that all six lost their physical form, inadvertently creating our universe. All six were weakened greatly, but were not destroyed. Utgar waited, plotting. It communed with mortals though dreams, willing them to do its bidding. Finally all was ready for the process to begin for Utgar to regain its physical form. All it needed was a mortal pawn to lead its forces. The Valkyrie prince was ripe for corrupting. At Mitensol, the Valkyrie agreed to follow Utgar. He would help Utgar regain its full power and in return would be granted rule over all mortal beings. After this covenant was made, the irreversible change to darkness began. The prince’s skin and wings changed, and he made a new name for himself; Taelord Blackwing, Harbinger of Chaos. Revenge on the Valkyrie race would be swift, for Taelord was more powerful now than ever before. War was nigh. Utgar scattered the seeds of chaos, guiding the peoples of the Universe to the portals and encouraging them to fight for domination. With these people fighting one another in a mad scramble for power, there would be no unified force to stop Utgar’s army. They lay in wait for the perfect moment to strike. But, they waited too long for soon an army that would be fit to oppose them arose; an alliance between the mountain Valkyrie, the elves, and various human factions. They alone would have the potential to stop the advance of evil. This army of resistance was led by Raelin with her father’s blessing. Taelord knew something had to be done to stop this singular threat. After convening with Utgar, it was decided that the time to strike had come. And what better way was there to cripple this new alliance then to strike at the heart of it; Taelord would kill his father. He returned to Valhalla and secretly flew to his Odnir’s palace. The guards were no match for Taelord’s superior swordsmanship. He entered the throne room silently. There he found Odnir, his once mighty wings dropping with age. He stared at the intruder, gripped with horror. After a second of dawning comprehension, recognition
flashed across the old king’s face. He began to speak, but was silenced by the stroke of Taelord’s sword. Servants later found Odnir’s severed head at the foot of his throne, evidently slain by a servant of Utgar. Devastated, Raelin became the new Skylord, vowing to avenge her father. *** All seven armies were now poised for attack, waiting for each other to make the first move. Taelord’s forces were more powerful than ever, while the others were drained by the terrible fighting. If his army won this final all-out assault, then Utgar would be free and the Universe would be plunged into eternal darkness. Taelord surveyed the battlefield before him, anticipating the moment when all would bow to him as master. He yearned to meet his half-sister in battle, relishing the moment when he would repay her in full for her complacency. Power and revenge; was Taelord wrong to want these things? All he had done was be born and others had hated him. Now they had a reason to despise him, and he thrived because of it. Taelord was savoring these thoughts, when he heard a whisper. Are you ready to be the all-powerful master of every mortal being? “Yes my master, I am ready” Taelord spoke aloud. Make the first move. Leave none alive. Free me, and you shall have your reward. “Brunak,” Taelord called, “Khosumet, Runa! Advance all forces. Hold nothing back! Attack now!” The circling storm finally broke, the volcano rumbled. The mighty prince added quietly “Let the battle begin.”
SUBMITTED PHOTOGRAPHY/DRAWINGS
By Irish Aguada By Cristie Zheng
By Olivia Hain EDITOR’S CHOICE