April 2014

Page 1

April 2014

Midnight Writers


Table of Contents Cover:

“Let There Be Light,” a photograph by

Calypso

This Page: Amada Farine

Ask Aphro & Dite Toto struggles returning to life in Kansas

Calypso’s Island 

The Lady of the Underworld returns!

Echo’s Echo 

Page 11: “Chance Meeting,” a photograph by Poseidon

“Reunited in Oz,” an illustration by “Silences,” a short story by Glittercheese

Page 3: 

“Derived Velocity,” a photograph by Suzy-chan

The loveliest of nymphs recalls an April Fool’s Day prank

Page 4:

“Dreaming for Another Summer,” a poem by Aradia “I’ll Meet You There,” a photograph by Andromeda

Page 12: “Inferno’s Kitchen: Demon of Greed: Mammon’s Amazing Offer,” a short story by Janus “Inferno’s Kitchen: The Anti-Eden Is Crazy,” a short story by Janus

Page 13: “The Last President,” a short story by Poseidon “Dystopia State,” a photograph by Suzy-chan “Tired,” a photograph by Suzy-chan

“The Dreamer,” a short story by Buckbeak “No Place Like Home,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Lonely,” a poem by Artemis “Foundation,” a short story by Athena “Dreams Come True,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “The First Signs of Spring,” a photograph by Aries “The Castle,” a poem by Zenyatta “The Sound of Spring,” a poem by Hades

Page 14:

Page 5: Page 6:

“Epoch,” a short story by Suzy-chan “Things are Never as They Seem,” an illustration by Hecate “The Danger of Dreams,” a poem by Exodus

Page 7: “A Deceiving Spring,” a poem by Daisuki “Laughter,” a poem by RisingSun “Maneki-neko,” a photograph by Athena “Searching for a Lucky Cat,” a poem by Athena “Fool Me,” a poem by Luna-Moon Sparkles “Kitty Party,” a photograph by Japanda3 “Magnets,” a poem by Luna-Moon Sparkles

Page 8: “Tales from Unique Kinds Elementary-Middle School: Vanita’s Dilemma!” a short story by Amanda Farine “I Bet Their Blood is Delicious,” an illustration by Daisuki

Page 9: “The Illiterate One,” a poem by Vivan Griselda “Free,” a poem by Anastasia “Hello,” a photograph by Suzy-chan

Page 10: “Getting Out,” a short story by Exodus

Page 15:

“The Ocean’s Child,” a short story by Calypso

Page 16: “The Ocean’s Child,” continued “Prepare for Battle,” an illustration by Hecate


midnightwriters.webs.com midnightwriters2014@gmail.com

Ask Aphro & Dite

Dear Aphrodite, It’s been a while since I returned from Oz, and I’ve been dreadfully unhappy. Everyone else learned an important lesson and was given a gift by the Wizard, but all I got from Oz were sore paws and shell shock from being picked up by flying monkeys. I don’t think people realize how difficult the journey was-it wasn’t all singing munchkins and yellow brick roads-and I’m having trouble adjusting now that I’m back in Kansas. Do you have any advice? Yours, Toto Dearest Toto, I’m ever so sorry about this whole thing! Goodness gracious, but it sounds like Oz wasn’t quite the soul-searching-then-fulfilling journey it’s been rumoured to be! I never realized how true that is-we always hear about how the others received wonderful gifts from Oz, but do we ever hear of Toto getting treats or any kind of lasting lesson? Certainly not. However, I would like to remind you that you matter just as much. Remember dear, Dorothy missed that hot air balloon home because she refused to leave without you. And that Wicked Witch? She knew the score-whenever she threatened Dorothy, she would threaten you too. She knew how important you were. But now that you’ve come home, first, welcome back. Second, it might be a good idea to talk to a therapist or maybe a support group about how you’re feeling. However, if stuff like K-9’s for Killing Pain doesn’t work out, try looking for those slippers. They only worked a few times for Dorothy, but who’s to say they won’t work for you? Then trot on back there and demand a gift, I say! But well and truly, dear. I must say that all this makes for a fabulous novel premise. I mean, think about it! They’ve got Wicked and such out there, detailing the Witch’s story, yes? Why don’t you come out with a Wagged and tell the whole thing from your point of view? I’d certainly like to see it and hear all the details little Dorothy would never tell. Best of luck Toto darling, Dite

Want to ask a question?

Whether you seek romance, school, or fandom advice, send your questions to askaphrodite2383@yahoo.com. They will remain anonymous!

Calypso’s Island

I’m back! You wouldn’t believe the month I just had. After waking up in a daze in the fiery pits of Tartarus, I couldn’t believe it. But before my head could stop spinning from the sleeping gas, you wouldn’t believe who appeared. Hera. Apparently she thought that I was mismanaging the Underworld, and she was furious that Hades had chosen a nymph to rule when there were much more capable goddesses who were already used to ruling a domain-like her. Well, I was stunned. I know my resume for ruling isn’t the best, but I’d say I’ve been doing a decent job! Hades left me a pretty long to-do list, and I think I’ve been doing a passing job, all things considered. Either way, she told me that she was going to rule both the Underworld and the Heavens from now on and that my punishment for attempting to rise above my station was to stay in Tartarus for eternity. Harsh, huh? She left shortly thereafter, and I was forced to explore and search for shelter or food. It turns out that it’s not as hot in Tartarus as you might think. It’s not sweltering, but the main problem is the dryness. My goodness, that was awful. I was terribly dehydrated, and pretty soon I was desperate to find water. Fortunately, I found a small pond. Unfortunately, the Titans were lounging around it. I know my father is Atlas, so they’re technically my aunts and uncles, but I haven’t talked to any of them in ages. But before I could leave to start searching for another source of water, Chronos spotted me and called me over. They were actually surprisingly pleasant to talk to them. We chatted, and I got them up-to-date on the last few millennia. It turns out they don’t want to rule the polluted, man-infested earth anymore, and most of them have created rather nice residences in Tartarus. Anyway, when I explained my predicament to them, they were furious. After quick negotiations, they agreed to help me retake the Underworld in exchange for some well-placed humidifiers in Tartarus. After millennia of conserving their energy, they were able to knock down the gate and expel Hera from the palace, and they told me to let them know if I ever needed help in the future. Well, I’d better go. Ever since word got out about what Hera did, I’ve been flooded with phone calls and gods and goddesses dropping in to make sure that I’m alright. I think Hermes told me he’s coming around later today. Either way, I’ll see you next month!

Echo’s Echo

Happy spring, Midnight Writers! Finally the temperature is climbing and the flowers are blooming. I thought it was going to be spring during the end of March…but NOPE, Mother Nature decided to fool us all by dumping just a few extra inches of snow then. But all is well now with the weather. I mean, as well as weather around here could possibly get… Anyway, since it’s April, and no April is complete without April Fools Day, I guess I will share my April Fools story with you all. I will have to admit that yes, I was fooled this year, and yes, I was fooled quite badly. Some of you may know about my rather rocky relationship with Narcissus. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and he knows it a little too well. So it came as a surprise to me when I received a letter a few weeks ago from him, inviting me over to the woods where we first met, on April 1st. I was thrilled that he finally took some time not staring at his reflection in the pool to write me and ask me to come over, possibly too thrilled since it did not register within me that April 1st was April Fools Day. After spending the next few days tidying myself up so I looked my best, I hurried over to the woods and found him there, lying in perfection, admiring his reflection in the river. My heart skipped a beat and I called out to him. His head snapped up in irritation, but when his eyes looked my way, they softened and filled with a love that I had never seen before. He stood up and made his way toward me as he cooed, “Oh darling, you look so breathtakingly beautiful.” As he stepped closer and closer to me with his arms stretched out, the anticipation of his touch caused my breath to hitch in my throat. Narcissus was about to touch me. It felt too good to be true…and that seemed to be the case, as he walked straight past me, towards a mirror that was attached to the tree right behind me. Turns out the culprits were just some nymphs that are also vying for him that decided to play a dirty trick on me. Sigh. And that was what my April Fools consisted of. It’s a tragic story. I know somewhere in the woods someone is enjoying himself, though. Hopefully you guys had a hilarious day, and I hope you guys have a great rest of April!

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Calypso, Echo, Hecate, Glittercheese, and Chronos


The Dreamer By Buckbeak

When Vendetta day dreams, she isn’t an ordinary dreamer. She can do so much more when she is dreaming. When others dream, they find themselves a slave to their inner conscious. When Vendetta dreams, she can fully control her dreams; she understands that she’s dreaming and is able to change her dream if she wants to. And in her dreams, she is the Queen of her World. However, she has had a few problems with her dreams lately. Her dreams have been filled with strange people who always seem to be watching her. No matter how many times she tries to escape, they always manage to pop up in her dreams. Why, even now she is having a troubled dream. *** Vendetta groaned, her head pounding, and she looked around. She didn’t remember changing her dream to a graveyard. Fog covered the ground, making it impossible to see where the ground was. All she could see was a faint light off in the distance, shining faintly but just enough so she could see. Don’t go into the light! Don’t go into the light, the little voice inside her head screamed. Vendetta ignored the voice and cautiously walked through the fog, trying to see what the light was leading to. She stopped in front of the door and looked around carefully. Vendetta hesitantly reached out to grab the doorknob, half expecting it to start talking like the doorknob did in Alice in Wonderland. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, and she walked into a small library that seemed to come right out of an old English castle, complete with stone walls and tapestries. “Ah Vendetta, I’ve been waiting for you. I wasn’t expecting you to take this long. If I knew, I would’ve asked more messengers to visit you in your dreams.” Vendetta looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. However, all she saw was a terrier, almost like Toto from The Wizard of Oz, resting on one of the chairs. “Please, sit down. I apologize for my manners; it has been some time since I have received visitors.” To Vendetta’s amazement, the dog started to talk. Stranger things have happened; best to just go with it, Ven, she thought to her set as she sat down. She smiled at the dog, hoping that it would start talking again so that she could get to the bottom of the mystery of her invaded dreams. “Now where was I? Ah yes, the messengers. You see, my dear girl, I have been trying to get ahold of you for the longest time. You have been chosen by the people of Oz to be the new Queen of Oz. We have been watching you carefully. You are Dorothy’s great-great-great granddaughter, and you also have a special gift when it comes to dreams. You, of course, are already aware of

Lonely By Artemis We sit in a young girl’s closet, Shoved in and left behind, Covered and dust and cobwebs, Our red loses its shine. We helped the little girl Was Dorothy her name? We helped bring her back home, Helped with her home-sick pain. We were brought from a witch’s lair, Covered with rubies in lines, Used to channel magic Whenever tapped three times. Yet when all was said and done, We were left alone and sad, Watching the reunion of one hugging family, crying and glad. And so we sit and years go by, We pray for someone to see Our plight, our sorrow, our neglect, And that we are so, so lonely

“No Place Like Home,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm

this very unique gift; it is only given to the successor of the crown. The ability to control your dreams enables you to move in and out of Oz whenever you would like to. Now, let’s get down to logistics. For the past couple years, the Munchkins have been protesting against the…” The dog continued for the next couple of hours, talking about domestic problems that were happening in Oz and all of the possible solutions. He either chose to ignore Vendetta’s dropped jaw or was too short to see it. After the domestic problems were explained, the dog sent Vendetta back home so that she could think over her answers for the issues that were plaguing Oz. She went along with the dog, happy to get out of the strangest dream she’d ever had.

However, he did say that he would be bringing her to Oz later for the coronation ceremony. Vendetta didn’t worry; she was never going back to the strange castle library ever again. She opened the door, waved good bye to the dog, and stepped through the door. *** “Vendetta, honey! Time to go! We’re late already. We have to go see grandma!” Vendetta woke with a start and jumped out of bed. She shouted a reply to her mother and changed her clothes before running down the stairs and out the door. Vendetta didn’t even bother to look at the crown that was placed on her bedside table-a crown that glinted like the Yellow Brick Road and had one green emerald that shined like Emerald City. A crown worthy for the Queen of Oz.


“The First Signs of Spring,” Photograph by Aries

The Sound of Spring By Hades When thou can see the crystal of thy breath Falling and shatt’ring on the wooden floor, When children wish for the embrace of death So that they might be warmer than before, When day is no less cold or black than night, When all men long to sleep and never wake, Blacksmiths and merchants, farmers and the king, The world of dark and white Will pass; sunlight shalt through the gray veil break. Hearts will rise and look East to wait for Spring. Canst thou hear the streams racing down the hills? ‘Tis the sound of Earth’s blood running anew. Aye, in the wind doth still linger harsh chills, And into our brittle bones they strike true. But on this morn there was a small green sprout, And o’er the forest flew a singing lark, Flitting past the last of the melting snow. So washed away all doubt; ‘Twas time to bid farewell to the long dark And time to bask in lively, verdant glow. But still the Spring Herself has not yet come, With Her escort in rose, gold, powder blue. Silence stands in place of Her heralds’ hum, And fields of grass all thirst for Her fresh dew. Stay, await the first to bud in the trees. Patience, ‘til foliage on hillsides grow, After from the sky falls not hail but rain. See butterflies and bees, And fawns stand on their feet, shaky and slow. Then shalt Winter loosen His icy reign. The Hiemal King will rise from frozen throne With a ne’er-before seen glow in His eyes. Up the mountain He climbs, past slopes of stone, To reach the crest in time for the sunrise. In Dawn’s shadow, anxiously He paces, Only trees and rocks to witness His fear, ‘Til at last there sounds a heart-wrenching song. His once-dead pulse races; Down His cold, white cheek streams a single tear As He hears the voice He’s yearned for so long. He will turn and behold such a beauty, For which men are willing to war and die. He especially possesses no immunity, A truth He would never think to deny. The King will run into Spring’s slender arms And weep as in awe of Her Majesty. For Her, He would gladly renounce his crown. Ethereal world of charms— To shatter the spell would be travesty, So in each other They quietly drown. On this day, to take arms no one would dare, As flowers burst and meadows awaken. Cheer, joy, and ecstasy fill the crisp air With every sigh, breath, and gasp taken. Upon a hill only the true may climb, Within a vast forest older than time, In a garden whisp’ring ancient stories, Beneath an arch of blossoms and glories: There, the King of Winter will take His bride, And Spring shall return to the mountainside. 5


Epoch

three days since we left Magister's Harbor,” she murmured, a By Suzy-chan tint of boredom in her tone. “Clearly we’re not there, otherThe sun’s gleam stretched wise you would not have asked over the horizon, the land of wa- that,” the wizard replied in his ter bathed in an ocean of sapdeep voice. He paused for a sephires. A single boat stood out cond. “There will be another amidst the striking cobalt, surtempest in a couple of hours.” rounded by nothingness. The “Again? That’s the third time,” craft was occupied by two-a wiz- the girl said. “Wait, you would ard and his apprentice. The wiz- only tell me that if it was-” ard was not what one would ex“Your turn,” he said. pect; he was neither old nor a The apprentice sighed at the sage. Dark haired with a small thought of her newly assigned goatee, he grasped onto a shady task. Calming a storm was never wooden staff but stood tall and easy and required great amounts resilient. The wizard’s bold eyes of magic and concentration. A scanned the vast sea, his sharp bubble of curiosity suddenly ears listening to the soft crashes simmered in her head, inquisiof the ocean’s surface. His stutive to why her master couldn’t dent, a young teenage girl, was simply avoid the storm. concentrated in her studies. Her “How come we can’t just go auburn braids flickered with the around it? Is it necessary we go salty winds as she flipped through this storm?” she asked. through the aged tome. She The wizard raised his eyeglanced up to see her master sti- brows at the question. Tilting his fle a quiet yawn. head to his student, he replied. “Are we there yet? It has been “One cannot merely avoid a

storm. There will always, always, be storms in the ocean.” The girl blinked, confused about what he said. The wizard sighed, and continued. “Life, my apprentice, is like the sea. It is an everlasting acreage with tranquil beauty. The majestic brilliance of the open waters stretches outwards with no bounds for miles till world’s end. Adventure lurks around every corner. The Sea, the greatest link between the continents and islands of the planet! Islands -titanic mountains hidden away by the subtle cloak of the ocean,” the wizard sighed, deep in thought. “However, this tranquility is not permanent. Chaos beckons.” “Chaos?” his apprentice asked curiously. The wizard nodded. “Chaos. It co-exists in an eternal conflict with balance, for with no Chaos there cannot be balance. Chaos exists everywhere, my pupil, and for those areas devoid of Chaos,

it shall exist somewhere else.” “So what does that have to do with storms?” the apprentice asked. “The Sea is no exception. While the calm tranquility may be here one day, it shall succumb to the might of the inevitable storms and tempests. That is why we must balance the forces of Chaos. We cannot vanquish it, but what we can do is divide it. The storm will still exist, but it would be so broken that it would not wreak great havoc anymore,” he explained. The girl stared blankly. The wizard turned back to the oncoming storm. “Hmm” he murmured. “Category cloud four.” He chuckled softly. “Ah, you’re going to have fun with this one”. “Not like I had a choice,” she sighed. The girl grasped her oak staff and stood up. Shifting into her stance once again, she braced herself for the calming.

The Danger of Dreams By Exodus

My mind starts encased in dark But soon it is filled with color Bright, brilliant, and sharp Being awake is so much duller I find solace inside my dreams A world created solely by me With every possible extreme In every possible degree I wish to share my world with you But I fear you’d think me mad Since that’s all too likely to be true So I shall hide this dream I had A universe tailored to fit me A world impossibly perfect The only place I’m meant to be But I ask myself, is it worth it? Men have become lost dreaming Wandering aimlessly in imagination While it seems bright and gleaming You become lost in your own nation I look in each face and see my own An exact copy that is most precise And in this place I’m all alone I should have known it had a price

6

“Things are Never as They Seem,” Illustration by Hecate

When awake, it fills my mind When asleep, it’s all too real I realize I left everyone behind And this place loses its appeal


Laughter

A Deceiving Spring By Daisuki

By RisingSun

The cherry blossoms scattered down the tree, Fluttering every bit of my lost gains, Embracing every piece surrounding me, Collecting fragments of little remains. Pink pieces hugged me bittersweetly, Making me think the season was still here. I look for the petals mistakenly, In deceiving hope that they will be near. It’s winter now but spring will appear soon, But it won’t be the same dancing flower, Or the same promising light in the moon. Because time makes sweetness become sour. I thought the petals could make you feel free. So when summer comes, I’ll look to the tree. “Maneki-neko,” Photograph by Athena

Once upon a time, A girl was troubled. She met a boy, Who she couldn’t help But smile around.

Smiles and fun, Laughing— It creates joy Because it’s truly contagious. It really does dissolve problems Because in that moment, The only thing Going through our heads Is happiness.

Searching for a Lucky Cat By Athena No. No. Wrong. Too flashy. Too big. Not cute enough. Too expensive. Hope draining. “One last store!” “Fine.” Not expecting much. But then – Spotted. Adorable. Cheap. The perfect size. A wide grin appears. “That one.” “Kitty Party,” Photograph by Japanda3

Almost everything he said To her was funny When she was with him, Her laughter let her mind Stray from her difficulties And let her enjoy The purity of pleasure, And the beauties of life.

Fool Me By Luna-Moon Sparkles You and me. We could never get together. And roam as if we had no problems. We have hostility baby. Dating back a millennium ago, lady. I don’t get it, we never really clicked. You try to hurt me, chick. By roaming around with my girls. Cause honey, that’s funny it does not. We’ll never work. That’s the biggest tragedy of our lives. Us crazy girls.

Magnets By Luna-Moon Sparkles We’re like magnets. Attracted to our actions. But in the end we’re always repulsed by each other. Why that is? I don’t know. I drive you away. You drive me away. We’ll never go smoothly, like perfect little magnets.

7


Tales from Unique Kinds ElementaryMiddle School: Vanita’s Dilemma! By Amanda Farine As I walked towards Ms. Lila’s class, I started to think about what my favorite school subject was from last year. I’ve always loved history since I’m a vampire. Plus, I’ve lived through pretty much every historic event in the book! I appear to be seven years old, but I’ve been around for hundreds and hundreds of years. I’ve always shined in history class-ever since last year, when I was in first grade at Unique Kinds ElementaryMiddle School. My parents have always told me to keep my vampire identity a secret to other humans. They still miss living in Romania. I’ve always found Romania kind of boring since the only kind of people to talk to there were vampires. In the human world, I get to meet new people all the time, including my best friend, Penelope Jenson. She was a sevenyear-old human girl with strawberry-blond hair and always loved to wear pink. She immediately suspected I was a vampire since I was allergic to garlic, and she had some sprinkled on her pasta salad in her lunch box on the first day of school. I got a little crazy when I realized what she thought, but after I told Penelope that I was a vampire, she said she would never tell anyone and still wanted to be my friend. Since then, we’ve become great friends. We had our first sleepover in kindergarten on the weekend after our first week at school. That was when Penelope shared her personal secret with me. She told me that she had once been caught eating sour candy from the candy machine at the Bald Eagle Grocery Store. When I found out both of us were enrolled at Unique Kinds Elementary-Middle School, I was thrilled! But when we found out we weren’t going to be in the same class together, we were both devastated. As I got closer to my new class, I felt excited but nervous. Just then, I heard a terrified shriek! I stopped in my tracks and peeked around the corner. I couldn’t believe it! There was a vampire girl about my age being picked on by a nasty middle

school kid! “Don’t hurt me! I’m just a vampire kid,” the little girl wailed. “I don’t have my fangs in yet, so I won’t bite!” “You’ll be sorry after dealing with me,” the middle school kid said with a mean smile. “HEY!” The nasty middle-school boy stopped looked at me, expecting me to say more, but I was clueless. I wasn’t even sure why I yelled like that. But I wasn’t going to chicken out just yet. “Y-Yeah, I’m talking to you,” I continued, pointing at the nasty middle-school boy. “Leave that girl alone!” The nasty boy dropped the little vampire girl on the floor. Then he stomped over at me and stared right into my face. “What did you say?” he growled. I gulped when I got a closer look at his face. He wasn’t an ordinary middle-school bully. He was an ogre middle-school bully. He was expecting me to bark at him again, but if I did, he might hurt me, too! I was frozen for a second. Then his clammy, warty hand started to grab my shirt until“NO!” I shouted. I crawled under his chubby legs and grabbed the girl’s hand. I quickly pulled her into my classroom and closed the door. As the ogre boy banged on the door, I smiled smugly and said, “Go to class!” The ogre boy seemed a little shocked that I talked back to him a fourth time, but he grunted and walked away, defeated at last. The little girl and I both slumped down on the floor. Then she turned to me and said, “Thanks for saving me back there.” “You’re welcome,” I replied. “Thanks for bringing me to my class,” she added. “I didn’t even know where it was until you showed me.” “Wait, this is your homeroom, too?” I asked, my eyes widening. “Yeah, why?” she asked. “Because this is my classroom, too,” I exclaimed happily. “Yay!” we both squealed as we high-fived each other. Then I looked over at her and said, “I’m Vanita, by the way. I’m a vampire, too! What’s your name?” “I’m Eileen,” the little vampire girl responded. Then she paused. “Wait…how did you know I’m a vampire, too?” “Well, we kind of look alike,” I said politely. Then I chuckled, “Plus, you told that mean boy that you were a vampire.”

Eileen blushed. “My parents said I’m not allowed to tell anyone that.” Then she sighed sadly. “And now two people know what I am!” “Well, my parents have the same rule for me, and lots of kids can tell that I’m a vampire, too,” I assured her gently. “But my fangs haven’t come in yet,” Eileen remarked, pointing at her teeth. “Mine have,” I said, showing her my two little baby fangs. “But my friend, Penelope, still likes to play with me.” “Who’s Penelope?” “She’s my best friend from pre -K,” I told her. “You’d like her. She’s really nice.” “Maybe I can meet her later on today,” Eileen said with a shrug. “Is she in this homeroom?” “No, she’s in the other classroom,” I explained, remembering how upset I was when I first found out we weren’t in the same class together. “Oh. Well, we can still be friends in this class together,” Eileen assured me. “Aw, thanks,” I said, and we hugged. “That’s all we needed to hear,” said a voice.

“Uh…who said that?” Eileen asked nervously. Just then, the lights in the classroom flicked on and a woman with light brown hair smiled. A lot of little kids were standing around her, smiling too. “Surprise!” everyone shouted. Eileen and I stared. We hadn’t even noticed that the lights had been off until just then. “I’m Ms. Lila,” the woman with light brown hair said cheerfully, “and this is your second grade class!” Eileen and I were shocked. All of the people in our class were all vampires! It was unbelievable! It was almost too good to be true, but it was one of the best days of my life. And that’s the story of how my first day of second grade went. It was amazing! And after school, we all went to the movie rental store and got My Babysitter’s a Vampire to watch during the upcoming weekend. That’s when I realized that it doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like, because what matters is that you’re always there for each other. That is the true meaning of Best Friends Forever.

“I Bet Their Blood is Delicious,” Illustration by Daisuki


The Illiterate One

Meaningless words

are flying out of her mouth. If only the issue had risen to the surface sooner, By Vivan Griselda Had been created from the tip of your tongue. Those excuses are so flat they are in need of a tuner, Inspired from light and driven by her surroundings, No apology and oblivion proves she’s just too young. Her bright eyes never fail to run across the page. The disappointing confusion led to our memories drowning, She keeps talking to me without a script, A facial expression can evaluate one’s sincerity. I often wonder how one survives when trapped in a cage. There are many parts that her absent-minded heart skipped, Silence has spoken to the wind and the sun, Maybe one day she will seek her clarity. She’s an imprudent girl just living off of lies. So she will grasp onto the only book she knows with fear, I felt a shift in the ground as the freedom had begun, Reading with no ability to discover clues between the lines. By no means is it my job to save her from her cries. From the beginning this chemistry never appeared clear, Her poor soul has been misled down an impossible path, Compromise is a desire she holds that my past must decline. And the fog has grown too thick to carry her back. As I speak to the honest air I’m unable to commit falsehood, Unaware that you need far more in life than math, I didn’t think the darkness would die out so fast. In my dreams I push her towards a smoother track. Destined to forever remain misunderstood, Looking past me as if my disappointment lacks presence, I guess some friendships were just not born to last. Free By Anastasia My tongue was bitter When I thought of you And my hands twitched When I remembered The awful words you spoke To me every day. My mind was clouded And I was going insane. My fury was always contained And I kept myself silent For fear of upsetting you. But you shut me out one day And I did the same And now I feel Happy and energetic And I can dip my feet Into the ocean Whenever I want to Without a voice Yelling at me To jump in when I’m not even ready. The wind gently drapes Over my cheeks As I stare at the sky With my hands clasped Underneath my head. For the first time in my life, I feel tranquil and free. “Hello,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

9


Getting Out By Exodus

My keyboard clacks hollowly in the dark of my apartment. The screen in front of me fills with words I know my editor will tell me need to be rewritten. This book series has been going on way too long, but the public is still reading it and that’s all that matters to my publisher. The Brinn Hightower series gets a little too close to my own experiences sometimes, but it pays the bills, so I have no complaints. I look over the last paragraph I wrote. It’s still absolute garbage, but my manuscript is due tomorrow. When I’m rushed, I quote almost exactly what happened back then. I know I should quit these books soon before they gain too much attention, but moving around all the time is getting harder. I live in an apartment that’s the perfect size for a thirty-two year old man who knows he’ll live alone for the rest of his life. I mean, at my age most men are settling down-wife, 2.5 kids, a dog named “Fido” or “Spots” or something equally uncreative. I guess I’m just getting… sentimental. I sigh and press a backspace button that makes a slightly different noise from the rest of the keys from overuse. I look around the room, and in the shadows I can make out the guns strapped under my desk, one with regular bullets and one with salt. I hear the scraping of a lock being picked and shout, “You know, if Hell wants me so bad, they shouldn’t keep sending incompetent newbies.” I knew this was coming, but hey, at least this time I’m dressed; last time they caught me while I was showering. There’s a slight shuffling before a loud bang. Great, they kicked the door in. Light from the hallways spills in, backlighting a person of slight stature. Male, I think, but with these clowns you can never say. “My name is Tahaserr,” says a rough voice. I wince; their names are hard enough to pronounce, and they never take care of the vocal chords of the human they’re possessing. I mean, how hard is it to keep a throat intact? “So, a new recruit then? I’ve never heard your name before. You must have done something right nasty when you were alive to end up like this,” I coolly say to him. If they’re going to just waltz into my life and ruin everything, I think I’ve earned the right to sass them. “Born into it, more like,” he smirks. I raise an eyebrow. “Second generation, then? Looking to prove your worth to dear Lucy downstairs?” I say, more than a

little shocked. Demon births are extremely difficult, often ending in the death of the mother. And I’ve yet to meet a demon that values another life over his own. I slide the salt gun into my hand. It won’t do a lot, but it should distract him long enough for me to say an exorcism and run for my life. He takes out a knife and waves it in what is meant to be a menacing way under my nose. The thing about second generation demons is that from the moment they’re born, they're spoiled. The waving of the knife just shows me his weak and unprepared grip. “You’re nothing but a soul bound to a sack of meat. I don’t why you aren’t dead yet, what with all the trouble you stirred up in Hell,” he grunts. The only thing I hate more than demons is arrogant, selfrighteous demons. They live in a fiery pit that humans are sent to when they act naughty on earth. I don’t get why they act so high and mighty. “I’m willing to bet you weren’t hugged a lot as a child. Do they have therapy in Hell? Sounds like you need it. I mean, you have some obvious personality problems,” I say. He took a swing at me with the knife, aiming too high with very little force. You’d think that they would teach you to properly murder someone in Hell, but I guess not. I use the gun to knock away the knife. Then I aim at his stomach, quickly cocking and firing the gun. Next I

aim at his face. While he is writhing in pain on the floor, I start the exorcism because I want to be out of here. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, inferalis adversarlii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica, Ergo Draco maledicte et sectio Ergo Draco maledicti er legio secta diabolica Ut Ecclésiam tuam sécura tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, Audi nos.” The demon leaves the body, and I see that the vessel is a man, about twenty-three. Time to run. I open up a safe to grab a duffel filled with two thousand dollars in cash, half a dozen fake IDs, and a change of clothes. I stuff the two guns I keep in the apartment into the bag, along with holy water and knives. I sling the bag over my shoulders and lock the door, making sure nothing looks out of place. If I’m lucky, it’ll be a couple of days before anyone notices anything. I regularly go days without emerging from my apartment. I call in a favor to my old buddy, and I tell him that there’s been a casualty, to find the man’s family, and to make sure he gets a proper burial. He says he will. I ask him to do one more thing for me, and he agrees, probably remembering all those time we saved each other’s skins. *** Two weeks later: I sit in an overly stuffed armchair in a place with barely decent hot

chocolate. I read over the article one more time, my eyes catching on the last couple sentences. Seth Westerman was an aspiring young author with much of his future ahead of him. Thousands of fans will be left wondering what happens to the daring hero Brinn Hightower. The writer has left all of his worldly possessions to the Sorenson family, who recently lost their son in a violent mugging. We can only wonder what happened to this bright young author, just as we can only wonder what would happen to the great demon-battling champion that has caught the attention and the hearts of many fans. So, the Sorensons. I hope they’re doing okay. I couldn’t take away their son and give nothing back, even if what I did doesn’t make up for it. The boy was an innocent caught in the cross-fire, and he definitely didn’t deserve what happened to him. I grit my teeth over my hot chocolate. This happened far too often, even now that I’ve retired from hunting. Once you’re in, though, there is no way out. Lord, I think, if you exist, that boy had better be up there drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows made of clouds. I think I’ll start a new series. Maybe this time it can be about a boy, and maybe he finds a girl, or maybe he gets a wife, 2.5 kids, and a dog creatively named Weston.

“Derived Velocity,” Photograph by Suzy-chan


Silences

By Glittercheese There are many types of silences. There are the awkward silences that sound like static among strangers. One moment, you are talking enthusiastically about an obsession. The next moment, a long pause stretches the distance between you and the recent acquaintance. There are silences that seem to scream and crowd your mind, such as after death and disease. There are thoughtful silences that connect the little bubbles of thought. And there are the little known, beautiful, resonating silences that sound like music. You can hear them in music. The small pauses between voices vibrate the silence from nothing into something. In the middle of a forest during winter, sparkles of snow fall gracefully from the sky. A still coldness dampens the air. The silent snores of the hibernating animals send invisible sound waves. A breeze whistles gently across the forest. The silence stretches like a blanket, wrapping around your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, the brown eyes of a deer stare calmly at you. And a silent language passes between you as the snow falls like crystals sparkling throughout the world. “Chance Meeting,” Photograph by Poseidon

Dreaming for Another Summer By Aradia In a small corner in my heart A jar permanently resides Inside it swirls colors of every hue A tribute to time and melody To open the jar would find a memory A memory sweet and passing Of a boy with stars for eyes And all the universe in his head The sun for a heart, a golden beat A body toned to protect and serve those He loves with all the silken fabric in his soul Voice rich and deep to sing to the rain and snow How beautiful his mind must be Sometimes when time is sour And life seems to drag I open the jar and close my eyes His laugh swirls around me in bells and Sweet tinkling sounds like music His voice finds melody forgotten in every heart And with this I rise to the occasion of living I close the jar once again And put it back in its place Where the evil dare not go “I’ll Meet You There,” Photograph by Andromeda

11


Demon of Greed: Mammon’s Amazing Offer By Janus

turning left and right until the halls were empty and quiet. Mammon opened up a door and gestured for the Cameraman to come inside. Ten minutes later, the brainwashed Cameraman stumbled out of the room, muttering things like, The Cameraman watched as the “We care about our consumers,” contestants were led away. He “buy one thousand loofahs; get one sighed and took out a bottle of red free,” and “two for the price of liquid, chugging the whole thing. Meanwhile, the audience waddled, five.” He clutched a complementary squirmed, and flew away through a pencil that said Mammon Inc. As he walked away, Mammon newly-opened portal. Chip bags and asked, “Did you get it?” unidentified substances littered the One body guard nodded, and gave ground like an especially rancid Mammon the Cameraman’s wallet playroom. The janitor with seven eyes mopped it up and hopped over with money, a picture of his exgirlfriend who left him for a guy the Cameraman’s wires. A camera came smashing down, and the jani- with four arms, and all of his credit cards inside. tor skipped away. “Nice. A good commercial and his He mumbled, “You idiot,” and wallet,” Mammon said with a smirk. looked around to see if his film crew was watching. Then he reThe Anti-Eden Is membered that most of them had quit after the past season finale of Crazy Inferno’s Kitchen, which resulted in Do you like drama, food, cooking, the maiming of most of the crew and death? Then watch Inferno’s and a few audience members. Kitchen on the Hell Network, FriMeanwhile Pip, a red impish dedays at 9:00 p.m. Lethean Standard mon, was slumped over snoring. Time! Now back to the show! Tanis was texting, her serpent tail *** flitting side to side. The audience was bigger than “Wake up,” the Cameraman said ever, and it was spilling over the and shook Pip. He rolled over and bleachers, an avalanche of claws fell back to sleep. The Cameraman and cheap Hell-mart clothing. And sighed and gave up, starting to pack this time, there were silvery transluaway his equipment, and found him- cent people poking their heads out self staring at a familiar face. Mam- from the rocky walls and pointing at mon again. him. Damned souls, Ryan guessed. The short demon was flanked by The audience cheered, and for a two hulking bodyguards, reminding moment seemed to become one githe Cameraman of the Godfather. ant entity, its maw widening for a Mammon straightened the lapel of serving of petty reality television. his expensive suit, and the body“Welcome to Inferno’s Kitchen!” guards surrounded the Cameraman. Beelzebub said. “Last week's epiHe squeaked, “I gave you back the sode had over eight quadrillion money already.” viewers, and we hope we can hit the Tanis sat up straighter, and Pip big 1,000,000,000,000,000,000!” fell onto the ground, still snoring. Last week? And quadrillion? “Two months late, after a car Ryan’s mortal mind failed to comchase and two blown up buildings. pute these words. His brain was the You know what happens when I’m equivalent of neurons throwing the not happy.” Mammon took off his conventional laws of his world out sunglasses and stared at him, fire of the window after shredding it and burning in his eyes. setting it on fire. He croaked, “How “I’ll make it up to you, I swear! many people are in Hell?” We can do the commercial now if Beelzebub guffawed, and everyyou want. Just don’t throw me into a one else laughed hysterically. pit of fire!” “He’s hilarious! That’s like asking Mammon considered it for a mo- how many stars are in the sky, or ment, then nodded. how much food I’ve ever eaten. I “This commercial spot cost me should’ve put a human on the show millions; you better not disappoint earlier. Anyway, the theme for tome,” he said gruffly, and the body- day is multi-dimensional. You’ll guards returned to his side. have to serve food based on the delTanis was texting rapidly, no icacies of the fifth dimension, and doubt about the encounter, but the for a certain idiot who doesn’t know Cameraman knew that as soon as about that, it consists of soul fruits she pressed send, the message and the other delicious things found would disappear like all the inforliving in the anti-Eden. You will mation about Mammon’s illicit en- gather the things you find and make deavors. Even archdemons had rep- it into any food you want. Be careutations to uphold. ful about what you bring back with The Cameraman picked up his you.” Beelzebub said cryptically, camera and large tripod and folthen smiled. “You’ll be fine!” lowed Mammon and the bodyguards A portal opened up, sucking Ryan into an unknown portal. and the contestants in. Ryan could They flew into a busy office in the feel himself shrinking and twisting. middle of Mammon Enterprises, His atoms rearranged into unusual entered a busy hallway, and kept on

shapes, for one moment he was a baby, then a marshmallow, then a platypus. He was spit out onto a bouncy ground. Everything was pitch black. “I’m alive!” Ryan cheered, and at the sound of his voice the world burst into color. He was in the middle of a mall that looked normal, but glow-in-the-dark and playing loud Eurodance music. Then he saw the monsters surrounding him and almost wet his pants. They looked like they’d raided his mom’s closet for the ugliest 80’s clothing ever. One monster asked in a deep voice, “Are you the human from Inferno’s Kitchen?” “Uh, yeah. Where’s the antiEden? It’s for the show.” They pointed to a door that was marked with mystical runes. Ryan ran to the door and jumped out. Next thing he knew, he was in a deep forest, neon of course. The trees stretched to the sky, twinkling with golden light. Ryan touched one of the trees. It quivered and turned into a giant toothbrush. A turtle zoomed past him, and on its back were four small elements, and on their backs, a miniature flat world. The orange grass shrieked when stepped on, and Ryan was pretty sure he saw a rabbit dragging a four-eyed creature into its burrow. The sky was dark but illuminated with suns, cubes, and giant silver eyes that never seemed to blink. A bush ahead of him screamed and ran away, and behind it was a giant whale with legs and claws. Its bellow reverberated through the trees and scattered wildlife. It charged at Ryan, and he raced away, barely grazed by the spikes protruding from the whale’s mouth. The whale roared and was about to charge again when a giant pink pterodactyl snatched the whale up and flew away. “That was going to be my entree!” Ryan yelled, throwing a surprisingly light boulder at the pterodactyl. Despite his awful aim, the rock hit the pterodactyl in the head, and it went down twenty feet away from him, bursting into flames. After two silent minutes, the fire went out and left the charred corpses of the pterodactyl and land whale. “Sweet,” Ryan said, and began cutting off hunks of the carcasses with a stick. It was difficult carrying the animal corpse, and after a few minutes Ryan was exhausted. Suddenly, a clearing in the woods appeared, and Ryan tentatively went through. A giant orange gate was in front of him. Two giant people with rainbow wings stood in front holding giant tree-toothbrushes. They spoke harmoniously, almost like they were singing a song, saying, "Welcome to Anti-Eden, little human. What are you doin’?” “Whoa, are you angels?” “Of course not! We’re anti-angels,

those other guys aren’t as cool!” “Um...okay. Can I go inside? I’m a contestant on the show Inferno’s Kitchen.” It was getting uncomfortable, and Ryan was pretty sure his retinas were burning from staring at the anti-angels too long. “Oh, that show! We watch that every nychthemeron; you can go!” The gates opened up and Ryan raced inside, glad to be away from those entities. Anti-Eden was a beautiful jungle, a mix of pure chaos and order clashing together in a multiversal wrestling match for dominance. Flying manatees grazed on the top of trees, and the trees whispered through their leaves. The anti-garden seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat, and when he exhaled, the landscape shuddered. The sky was even darker than outside, but the land was illuminated because everything besides the sky was illuminated with neon. Ryan’s mind was breaking, and his head pounded with the fury of a thousand boxers punching someone in the face. He closed his eyes, but the sound of his breathing was reverberating through his ears, amplified by the jungle. He was tapped on the shoulder, and he screamed loudly. “Calm down, human. It’s Digit.” The demon genius was standing behind him, holding a large paint can and dripping paint brush. “Oh, it’s you.” Ryan looked quizzically at Digit. “You were the one marking the trees?” “My hypothesis seems to be incorrect. The trees absorbed the paint into the bark. I was attempting to mark my path from the Gates of Extreme Awesome, so now I’m lost,” Digit explained and started flying forward. “I thought I was going insane for a moment.” “My research shows that the AntiEden can be fatal to lesser creatures such as humans. It may cause permanent brain damage.” Ryan chose not to respond to that but asked, “So where are those soulfruit things?” “They are supposed to be pure euphoria in an apple form. It induces a Fall from grace-basically a midlife crisis, but soul-shattering and life-ruining. So don’t eat it.” Suddenly Digit’s abnormally large ears perked up and he said, “I hear another contestant.” Sure enough, Ryan heard someone stomping on the screaming grass and saw the contestant coming out from behind a bush. *** To find out the rest of this liferending drama, tune in next week for the conclusion of this episode. Also, crass consumerism is your best friend, so buy anything from Mammon Inc in the next five seconds and you will get a 0.005 percent discount!


The Last President By Poseidon

Chapter 9 I couldn't stop staring at our bed. It was made perfectly, just as it was every morning. Sara was usually very particular about how the bed was made, with pillows of all shapes and sizes arranged in an order that seemed perfect to her. But that day, there were no pillows. In fact, there was nothing; the bed sheets had been stripped and thrown all over the room. The only thing left was a long, silk red dress, the one she was supposed to wear to my debate. The debate caught me by surprise, but I’d been ready, and I know I would’ve dominated. But instead, it all went wrong, and I'm sitting here being interrogated by a Police officer whose breath reeks of barbecue sauce. “Sir, I'll ask again,” the officer said. “Why did you leave the debate early? Did you somehow know your wife was in danger?” Honestly, I had no idea what to say. My entire motive for leaving the most important event of my life had been based on an empty chair and a man who looked like another man who may or may not have been a figment of my imagination. I couldn't tell the cop the truth about what had happened. The guy would probably think I was crazy, and while that may have been true, I certainly didn't want my side of the story ending up on the front page of the Washington Post. “Look, officer,” I said, trying to keep my composure. “My wife told me she would arrive well before the debate was scheduled to begin. She wasn't there and that worried me. My wife is always on time.” Realizing that I was completely useless to him, the officer thanked me for my time, shared his sympa-

thy for the situation, and walked away to question my neighbor. At that point, the shock was wearing off and reality was setting in. My wife had been kidnapped. By whom? No clue. Why? Nobody knew. One thing I did know, however, was that I needed answers. And the only person who could possibly help me was sitting downstairs in the kitchen, looking even more depressed than I was. “What have they told you?” “Just the obvious,” Jim said. The man had been miles away protecting me, doing his job. And yet, he blamed himself. You could see it in his eyes, the same type of self-loathing that I felt when I realized how little I cared when I thought Jim had died. “Sara was taken sometime in the last hour,” Jim continued. “There are signs of a struggle all over the house, but there is no evidence to suggest that they hurt her. The Secret Service agents who were supposed to escort her to the debate are nowhere to be found and are currently being viewed as suspects in the investigation. Other than that, we've got nothing. No witnesses, no finger prints, and nobody has demanded any kind of ransom.” “Jim,” I said, getting closer to make sure we weren't being overheard. “We both know who did it. It was Jones. You said it yourself: if I saw him again, I needed to tell you immediately. You knew he was dangerous, and he was at the debate. The minute he saw me, he grinned and left, probably speeding home to kidnap Sara. We need to find him!” “First of all, calm down,” Jim said. “The last thing we want is a reporter overhearing us. We have no idea who took Sara. Let the investigation play out; these guys know what they're doing. In the mean time, we need to leave. For all we know, you could be the next target.

“Tired,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

“Dystopia State,” Photograph by Suzy-chan

I called in an old favor and got us a safe house in Virginia Beach. We're leaving as soon as you pack.” “Jim,” I said, completely ignoring everything he had just said. “Who is Jones? How do you know him?” “Not now. We'll talk at the safe house, or we won't talk at all. Your choice.” Defeated, I got up and went upstairs, marched into my room, and shut the door. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about a million things at once. I started remembering little details from the trip to New York, and how nobody else seemed to believe that the trip ever happened. My heart broke when I thought of my beautiful wife, Sara. She had sacrificed everything for my campaign, and yet she was the one who ended up suffering in the end. She was probably locked in the trunk of a car somewhere, scared out of her mind. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why did Sara have to suffer? How could I-how could WE let that happen? I'm the Democratic candidate for the Presidency of the United States of America. The Secret Service is everywhere. How on earth did they let this slip through their fingers? Jim blamed himself, and maybe he was right in doing so. After all, HE was the one who let me go out on stage despite being clearly rattled when I told him about Jones. HE was the one who hired the guards who were supposed to take my wife to the debate. Jim was a longtime friend who had saved my life on several occasions, but as far as I was concerned, this was his fault. And if something were to happen to my wife, I'm not sure I would ever be able to forgive him. I walked downstairs with my suitcase and, trying to avoid eye contact with Jim, quickly walked to the car.

He told me we would be gone for a while and asked me if there was anything else I wanted to bring. I didn't, and we were off. We didn't say a word for the first twenty minutes. I was still furious at Jim, and I was pretty sure he knew that. After what felt like hours of awkward silence, I asked Jim the question that had been on my mind ever since we left the debate. “Jim, if you're not going to tell me how you know Jones, then tell me how you knew Sara was in danger even before we left the debate.” “What are you talking about?” Jim asked, a small but noticeable quiver in his voice. “I didn't know anything until we got back to the house.” “That's a lie!” I screamed. “No one knew why I ran off that stage, but you didn't even question me. It's like you knew I was going to leave the debate ahead of time. Then when we got into the car, I didn't tell you where we were going-you just darted straight home. So either you can read my mind, or you KNEW something was going to happen to Sara. And if you knew, then you could've prevented it. So, answer my question. How. Did. You. Know?” “Listen, John-” Just as Jim looked like he was finally going to give me some useful information, we were rear-ended by a large white van. Before we could say anything, two armed men shot through our doors and pulled us out by our arms. My face was covered by some kind of cloth, and I felt the all-too-familiar needle pierce my neck and the cold liquid enter my bloodstream. I felt my feet being dragged on the floor and heard a car door opening. And then it all went dark.

To be continued…

13


Foundation By Athena Cerysa d’Tarak had grown up in an unusual household. First of all, she was of mixed heritage – her father an elf, her mother a human. Her parents fell deeply in love, despite their cultural differences and the difficulties that resulted. Because of the unlikelihood of their relationship, Cerysa’s mother Eilley was a fervent worshipper of Senheln – the elf goddess of love, the moon, thieves, and mischief – in gratitude for her husband Gaerwyn’s love. Cerysa was brought up hearing no tales but those where true love conquered all, including the story of her parents’ love. This caused Cerysa to worship Senheln as fervently as her mother. Her name literally meant “to love” – how could she worship any other goddess? Although Cerysa was proud of her dual heritage, as her parents made sure she would be as she grew older, it led to a lonely upbringing. Many children rejected Cerysa for her differences. Although she would get her revenge in the form of

tricks and pranks – her patron goddess was the goddess of mischief, after all – hers was still a primarily solitary life. Cerysa’s closest friend was the Dragonborn guard at the library in town, one whose stories of the Draconic literature of his childhood inspired her to learn Draconic in order to read these oft-mentioned books. She certainly had the time and definitely had the enthusiasm – Cerysa became fluent in Draconic quite quickly, and Xipil taught her how to speak it fluently as well. But eventually Cerysa was grown and in search of a career. Although she considered joining Xipil as a library guard, her appetite for adventure inspired her to become a paladin of Senheln. Her imaginings of each day containing a noble defending of Senheln’s honor were quickly dashed. Her days were numbingly boring, and even at the temple she faced the discrimination of her peers. Soon enough Cerysa decided to leave the stuffy temple and strike out on her own. Senheln smile on her, she hoped she would find an opportunity to fulfill her potential and bring pride to her goddess. The Castle By Zenyatta The stone castle stands alone Tall and still on a sandy cliff. In its large dungeons, there are bones Of those who died all sick and stiff. A prison was this edifice, Its walls rang harsh with moans and screams. Here torture was and maybe is Reality, not just a dream. Long has the castle been forsaken But ghosts still haunt the dusty halls. And all fear much, that it’ll awaken And horrors will all the world befall. So stands the castle and will stand. Alone until it crumbles down. Until the cliff of yellow sand Will swallow it into the ground. Then traces all will disappear And people would forget and smile. But that awaited day’s not here And will not be for yet a while. And people, learn they will to cope With horrors that are right next door. Their hearts will now encompass hope, Not only fear and tears of yore.

14

“Dreams Come True,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm


The Ocean’s Child By Calypso “Come on, you have to keep moving,” Rin urged as Sylvia, Rowan, Pearl, Ash, and Eleanor hurried through the tunnel leading out of the barn. Sylvia glanced back to do a quick head count before letting Rin lead her out of the tunnel, and she tugged her scarf up to cover her mouth as they emerged into a large clearing in the forest. Minutes earlier, Rin, Cleo, and Xandra had split up the merfolk soldiers into groups of twenty. Among each group were at least two Gifted merfolk, and they’d all been given strict instructions to stay together. They were to stay in their assigned groups while hopping trucks on the way to New Londontown, and they would be organized by their group for the attack. True to his word, Rin had kept Rowan, Sylvia, Pearl, Ash, and Eleanor in the same group. “How much farther?” Ash asked, but Rin silenced him with a stern look. Rin had wanted Ash to stay behind at the barn with the elderly, children, and sick, but the others had refused to be separated from him. “Not much farther,” Rowan murmured. “But you have to stay quiet, OK?” Ash nodded, and they continued on, snaking their way between the trees. According to Xandra, they were heading for a truck loading station five miles west, and from there they’d be hitching rides to a station closer to New Londontown. As they reached the edge of the forest, they stopped and crouched behind the trees, counting on the shadows and smog to hide them. A ten-foot high barbed wire fence surrounded the loading area, and four cargo trucks were waiting to be cleared. The humans were inside the station, and Rin glanced around at the nineteen merfolk crouched beside him before pointing out a small hole in the fence. “Wait until the smog lights turn off, then run through and get on the truck farthest to the left,” Rin whispered before running and disappearing into the smog. Sylvia and Rowan exchanged nervous glances as they waited in tense silence, the only sound coming from coptix

passing overhead. Sylvia’s legs began to ache from crouching, but she ignored them as she squinted through the haze in a vain attempt to see where Rin had gone. Seconds, then minutes, ticked by, and Sylvia began to wonder if Rin had abandoned them. Just as she was about to ask Rowan where he thought Rin had gone, the smog lights clicked off. Rowan grabbed Sylvia’s hand and pulled her up, and they ran towards the fence. Without the smog lights, it was difficult to find the hole in the fence, but Ash quickly spotted it and crawled through before Rowan held it open for the others. After slipping in, they began to sprint towards the outline of the trucks, praying that they were far enough away from the station to not be spotted. As they reached the trucks, they paused, gathering on one side as two humans passed by several yards away. “Dang smog lights,” one grumbled to the other. “Never working right. You’d think the big shots up in New Londontown would at least get proper lights if they want their precious cargo delivered on time.” The other mumbled his agreement as they passed out of hearing range, and the merfolk breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, Sylvia’s stomach clenched as she saw a figure running through the smog towards them. Fearing that a soldier had discovered them, she removed the ray gun she’d been issued out of its holster. But before she could switch it on, the figure got close enough for her to see that it was Rin. His eyes widened when he saw the ray gun in her hands, and he motioned for her to put it away before carefully picking the lock on the cargo truck. They began hopping on, going deep inside the truck and settling down as the others piled in. Once everyone was inside, Rin carefully closed the door and squatted near the entrance, a ray gun in one hand and a memory -wiping device in the other. There was one group in each truck, and several dozen groups. Because so few trucks passed through the station each day, it would take several days for everyone to arrive at the farm near New Londontown. After everyone arrived, they would spend several days training the newer recruits and finalizing the invasion plan, and

then the invasion would commence. Sylvia knew what the plan entailed, and although it terrified her to hold, let alone fire, a ray gun, she knew that she couldn’t stay behind. As she sat in the darkness of the truck, she felt Pearl’s hand slip into hers, and she smiled at her younger sister comfortingly. Beside her, Ash sat sandwiched between Rowan and Eleanor, sitting astutely in imitation of Rin. Rowan and Eleanor sat with their fingers intertwined, and Eleanor rested her head on Rowan’s shoulder. The pouch of water she’d been issued weighed heavily at her side, and she almost wished she’d been given a ray gun like the others. After years of hiding the Gift, she wasn’t fully comfortable with her powers, and she felt vulnerable without a weapon she could hold in her hands. They sat crammed between crates and boxes, careful not to make a sound as the humans returned to their trucks. The truck Rowan and the others sat in grumbled to life, shuddering for a moment before the cogs beneath began spinning, powering the engine and lifting the truck off the ground. Because the roads were often covered in slime and waste, government trucks drove a foot above the ground; however, the waste from the hover-trucks only exacerbated the poor road conditions. Nevertheless, the merfolk were thankful for the hover-trucks because their engines produced enough sound to cover any small coughs or sneezes from the back of the truck. As the truck made its way out of the loading station and out onto the road, Sylvia sighed in relief. Rin had told them that it was a five-hour drive to the New Londontown truck station, so Sylvia settled into a more comfortable position and let herself relax slightly. Several hours later, the truck ground to a halt, startling some of the merfolk. They shifted into crouching positions, ready for the door to open, and several trained their ray guns at the entrance. Outside the truck, they heard doors slamming and a woman yelling, “Truck one-oh-two-eight is here!” The latch on the door clicked open, and the door slid up to reveal a middle-aged woman wearing a smog mask and heavy gloves. Her eyes widened at the dozen ray guns

aimed at her, but before she could sound the alarm, Rin grabbed her and held up the memory-wiping device, pressing the center of the disk and murmuring, “Everything’s fine. All clear,” as purple light shone in her eyes. The light clicked off, and the woman stepped back in a daze. Her eyes hazy, she closed the truck door and called loudly, “Everything’s fine! All clear!” The truck rumbled several yards more before stopping. They heard the driver leave, and Rin motioned for them to get ready. Sylvia shook Pearl and Ash awake, and Rowan powered up his ray gun. Stress hung heavily in the air until the door opened once more. This time there were two men in worker uniforms. Rin quickly flashed the purple light in both of their eyes, and they stepped back dumbly, their eyes blank. Rin checked the surrounding area before motioning for them to go. Just as Rin had described in the barn, a food cargo truck sat several yards away, its door open. In small groups, they began unloading the cargo, carrying it over to the food cargo truck and piling it in the back. They kept their heads down as they did, hurrying onto the truck and staying inside once they’d carried their box. Their truck was the only one that made deliveries to the farm they were heading to, and one of the soldiers there had hijacked the truck the last time it had made a delivery. As the final merfolk squeezed into the truck, the soldier came by to close the door, giving Rin a small thumbs up before he did. As the truck powered on, one of the station workers approached the truck. “Everything alright, miss?” the soldier in the front seat of the truck asked politely. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen anything funny lately. Some of our workers have had quick spells of amnesia. Anything happened to you?” the woman asked. “No, miss. I’m sorry to hear that, though. Do you think the smog got to them?” he asked. “Maybe. I think it’s giving us all a headache,” the woman replied before slapping the side of the truck. “Well, I won’t keep you. Let us know if anything comes up.” Continued on Next Page


TOC cont. “Will do, miss,” the soldier said, and the woman stood back as he began to drive. The drive to the farm only took half an hour, and once they were there, the merfolk were ushered out of the truck and into a barn similar to the one at the first farm. However, this one was considerably larger and its interior had been stripped and redesigned to function as a safe house. Bunk beds lined the walls of the far half of the barn, and several partial levels had been built to accommodate more bunks. In the half where they’d entered were dozens upon dozens of cases of ray guns, spare parts, ray-resistant vests, and water pouches. Xandra, who had been traveling in another group, assigned the groups different bunks, and Sylvia was relieved when Xandra called her name with Pearl and Eleanor’s. After they received their assignments, they headed up to their bunks and truly relaxed for the first time since leaving the camp. Although the farm was close to New Londontown, it was also the most secure holding the merfolk had on the island. Because few merfolk soldiers stayed there, they were able to keep a low profile while maintaining strong defenses against possible attacks. Human soldiers often ignored the seemingly peaceful farm, which gave the merfolk more freedom to plan and train. Over the next few days as the rest of the merfolk arrived, Rin and Cleo trained the newer soldiers and recruits while Xandra worked with those who had the Gift. Each day, they ran drills and practiced tirelessly to prepare as they improved their aim, agility, and reaction time. Training had been the hardest for Sylvia; the more she practiced with the ray gun, the more awful it felt to hold the cold weapon in her hands. While Rin had helped her practice her aim, he hadn’t been able to rid her of the sickening twist in her stomach that worsened every time she pulled the trigger. The only consolation she had was that the ray guns they’d received had two settings: stun and kill. Stun paralyzed any life that the ray hit, but kill rays burned through any material, incinerating anything in the ray’s path. Sylvia knew exactly which setting she’d have her gun on during the invasion. Meanwhile, Rowan seemed at

ease with the weapon in his hands, his eyes as hard as stone every time he pulled the trigger. Ash, who had been issued a stun-only ray gun, loved to stand beside Rowan during target practice. Although Rowan had explained the situation to him, he didn’t quite understand why everyone was so worried about going home. Still, that didn’t stop him from practicing with Rowan every chance he got. As Rowan, Sylvia, and Ash practiced with Rin and Cleo, Xandra drilled the Gifted merfolk in defensive and offensive watermanipulation techniques. Eleanor caught on quickly, but Pearl struggled, having never used her powers on anything more than freezing a pitcher of water. Xandra made them practice fighting each other, and at the end of each day, Rin, Cleo, and Xandra would mix the two groups before splitting them in half and pitting them against each other in a practice fight. After a week of training, the invasion day finally arrived. They were to prepare in the morning and set off in the late afternoon so that they could reach the city by nightfall. After that, they would infiltrate the city through the gate at the north end of the city, where merfolk working in the government offi-

cials’ homes would help them in. That morning, as Rowan and Sylvia strapped on their ray-resistant vests, Rowan asked softly, “Are you ready?” “No,” Sylvia said frankly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.” “It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice, Sylvie,” Rowan said, and Sylvia smiled slightly at her childhood nickname. “How do you do it, Ro?” she asked, her eyes turning serious. “How do you fire without cringing?” He paused, glancing around before saying, “I picture Mother and Father’s faces. You remember the look in their eyes, don’t you? As they were being dragged away? If they’d just made it up the steps and into the apartment, they would’ve been safe. But the police got to them first. That was the only time I ever saw Father cry, and it was because he knew that we’d have to grow up alone. I don’t want that to happen to anyone else. Not to the parents, and not to the kids.” “And you’d kill to prevent it from happening?” Sylvia asked, her voice cracking. Rowan sighed heavily before admitting, “If it means that my children and yours will grow up safely, then yes, I will.” Sylvia fell silent as his words sunk

in, and before she could respond, Xandra called for silence. A hush fell over the crowd, and Xandra said, “Today is the day.” A few waves of murmurs rippled through the crowd, but they were quickly silence by Xandra’s hard stare. “We will be traveling to the city’s walls this afternoon, and tonight, we will attack.” Several shouts rang out, but Xandra cut them off quickly, saying, “I know you want revenge. I know you want justice for years and years of cruelty, but tonight is not the night for revenge. If you want justice, you will wait. Our goal is taking the capitol building. From there, we can take the rest of the city, hopefully by negotiation. However, we’d be fools to expect human cooperation, so you must stay prepared. But I must emphasize: keep your guns on the stun setting and do not fire first. Killing needlessly will not help our cause, and firing first will only give the humans a reason to continue their abuse. Defend yourself, but do not instigate a shoot-off. Be brave and be merciful, even when the humans are not, and tonight…tonight will mark the beginning of the end of their reign of terror!” To Be Continued...

“Prepare for Battle,” Illustration by Hecate


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