December 2014
Midnight Writers
Table of Contents Cover: “Beyond Time,” a photograph by Bander- Page 11: snatch
This Page: “Winter,” an illustration by Khokokat
Page 3: Ask Aphro & Dite Snowman seeks advice on staying cool Death in dire need for a break
Calypso’s Island:
The Lady of the Underworld on frugality and fate
Echo’s Echo
Our favorite nymph with a fascinating guest
Page 4: “Caged Bird Cries,” a poem by logic1605 “Caged Bird,” an illustration by Circe “Unplugged,” an illustration by Hecate “Lullaby of the Cosmos,” a poem by A.T. Pacem
Page 5: “Battle of Nature,” a short story by Circe “Two’s a Party,” a photograph by Poseidon
Page 6: “Timed,” a short story by Nike
Page 7: “The False Dichotomy,” a poem by Rabid Fairy “Snow Angel,” an illustration by Alice Fraser “Another Try,” an illustration by Hecate
Page 8: “Joy,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Christmas Fireflies,” a photograph by Echo “Empty Light,” a poem by Corvus
Page 9: “The Nutcracker,” a short story by Buckbeak “Ready for the Mouse King,” a photograph by Calypso
Page 10: “Burning Skies,” a photograph by Calypso “Rain and Fire,” a poem by Aradia “Sky on Fire,” a poem by Senpai “I Am in Love with You,” a poem by Luna Moon Sparkles “Storm, Meet Calm,” a poem by Bandersnatch
Rhadamanthus’ Rant: On Ignorance and Apathy “Then and Now,” a photograph by Poseidon
Page 12: “Crown,” a poem by Raven “Ella Enchanted,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Lightbreaker,” a poem by Hades
Page 13: “Ave Maria,” a poem by A.T. Pacem “Red,” an illustration by Calliope “The Woods,” an illustration by Angiosperm “My Sky, Aflame,” a poem by A.T. Pacem
Page 14: “Snow Queen’s Dance,” an illustration by Japanda3 “Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Four Months Without You,” a poem by Bravery
Page 15: “Carnival Tail: Chapter Three,” a story by Calypso
Page 16: “Carnival Tail,” continued “Don’t Let Them In, Don’t Let Them See,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
issuu.com/midnightwriters midnightwriters2015@gmail.com
Ask Aphro & Dite
Dear Aphrodite, It's hard being a snowman, especially because Queen Elsa that made me. How can I survive different climates without becoming a puddle and dying? Is there some sort of lotion or clothing I have to take or wear? Yours, Snowman who is tired of snow Dearest Frosty, Ah, Elsa. She's learning to let it go and use her powers as she was meant to. Fortunately for you, that means that you've got an out to the dreadful change of seasons. Seeing as you're a magical snowman, you've got magic in your veins. In your snow. Whatever it is, no amount of heat will make you a thing of the past. All you have to do is politely ask the Queen if you could live your life, and I'm going to count on her saying yes. Maybe she’ll even give you a personal flurry—who says that Olaf is the only one who gets to live? But, darling, to be sure, I'd also suggest Idina's Cold Shoulder lotion—keeps the iciness on the inside so there's no possibility of a wardrobe meltfunction. Wishing you the coldest, Dite Dear Aphrodite, I'm sorry to bother you, Love, but I've been so exhausted lately, and I don't know who else to turn to. The other Horsemen are absolute rubbish when it comes to giving advice. I've been at my job for millennia, and the stress would kill me if it could. I know that it's my duty to reap souls, but can't I get one day off a year? Yours, Death Dearest Death, Good grief, you poor soul. Sounds like you need a day off, possibly even a week. And shame on those Horsemen, not helping in times of need. You came to the right place, love. I feel I should remind you of two things: one, Hades does read this column, so stay strong when he questions your dedication. Don't worry, everyone gets tired now and then. But you must remember that no one else can do your job the way you do. The way you reap souls is glorious, so don't lose that spark. But as for a day off, of course you should have one. Pick any day that makes you happiest. I'd suggest a Friday the 13th or All Hallows Eve—it'll surprise everyone when nobody's dead the next day, no? But then again, I think the first day of the new year might be best. Let the mortals enjoy their festivities, and let yourself relax for a night. Heaven knows there'll be enough work to do the day after, so take a mental health day, love. Live a little. Best of luck, Dite
Calypso’s Island
Happy holidays, Midnighters! It’s getting kind of chilly down here in the Underworld, but I heard it’s fairly warm up there. At least you haven’t been getting much snow, so it looks like I won’t have to worry about excessive spring melt. The dripping drove me mad last year, and it cost a fortune to get everything repaired. Zeus is still rather sour about it, penny pincher that he is. You should see him when he’s planning parties up on Mount Olympus. He adores wine and festivities and fun until it comes time to pay the bills. He’ll try anything and everything to weasel out of paying his fair share. For the king of the gods, you’d think he’d have a few drachmas to spare, but I guess he thinks his budget should be reserved for more important matters. You’d be surprised at the lengths he and other gods and goddesses go to avoid spending that extra drachma or two. Hermes has told me countless tales of ways they’ve tried to avoid shipping costs—everything from the old “family discount” to long-winded explanations of how difficult it was to procure the item they wish to ship and how they desperately need, just this once, for Hermes to let them ship it for free. Then, of course, there are the threats. Apparently, he keeps track of whenever the Fates threaten to cut his string of life, and whenever he gets to the next dozen, he buys himself a treat. The only problem with his habit is that he seems to have everything at this point. Or, at least, everything he wants. The same goes for most of the other gods and goddesses. I try to give homemade presents for holidays and birthdays, but after several millennia, even I’m struggling to find new things to give people. I’d hate to give something that’s just going to sit on a shelf or go straight to the rubbish bin. Speaking of which, we’re getting into that time of year. Everywhere you look, it seems to be carols, presents, decorative lights, and singing snowmen. Or at least, everywhere you look. Last year, I noticed an influx of new faces down here, and I’m getting a bit worried that it’s going to happen again. The additional company might be nice for me, but there’s so much more in the world of the living, and you should enjoy it while you can. Despite what the Fates would have you believe, you have more control over your string of life than you think. Be good to yourself this holiday season, and be especially kind to others.
Echo’s Echo
Greetings, Writers! First off, WHERE IS THE SNOW ON PLANET EARTH?! On Mount Olympus, there’s a fair share of winter precipitation, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Meanwhile, down here…seriously, if it’s going to be this cold outside, it might as well snow. Unfortunately, everyone seems to have taken an early leave for winter break, so I couldn’t find anyone to feature this month. Plus, it’s not like I could interview a snowman now because there is no snow outside! So I guess we’ll have to make do with me, myself, and I. Me: Hello, Echo! Pleasure to see you (even though you’re me…). Me: Hello! (Careful, we’re starting to sound like Narcissus.) Me: So, what’s your favorite part of the holiday season? Me: Well, despite the lack of flurries making the holidays feel less, well, holiday-y, it’s still that time of year! I love stepping outside and feeling that cold nipping at my face. It’s like a warm welcome from winter…except…it’s cold. Sorry. Me: So you really love the— Me: Oh! And I love passing by houses with twinkling lights strung all over that glimmer in the dark. I don’t know whose spirits don’t lift up after seeing those. Me: Yeah, the lights are always gorgeous. Anything else? Me: I also love seeing that blanket of crisp, white snow over everything outside. Plus, I love how hot drinks taste ten times more amazing around this time. And eggnog! So creamy, with hints of spices, and also half my daily amount of saturated fat—it’s totally worth it. Me: Well, I don’t know about totally… Me: Definitely totally. But most of all, I just love the festivity in the air that unites us all into a big hodgepodge of good vibes and feels and happiness. Me: Yeah, I love that too, me. Well, that’s all for this month. I hope you all have an amazing holiday season and a wonderful winter break! You all deserve it.
Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Calypso, Echo, Hecate, The Owlish Booworm, and Bandersnatch 3
Caged Bird Cries By logic1605 dont know why the caged bird sings but i know why the caged bird cries it keeps emotion deep inside while his soul begins to die its cage is imaginary it was built by all the lies all the people try to clip his wings so that he can never fly his shackles are molded of anger his chains are made of tears the lock is made of everything the caged bird has to fear he sulks inside his rusty cage knowing well the end is near he watches the world just pass him by as it starts to disappear people say he sings of freedom but i know he sings of pain when i hear the caged bird wailing i know nothing remains when the caged bird stares at sunlight all he ever sees is rain he tries to ignore the thoughts going on inside his brain the caged bird can come in fury, or it can come without a word even though he cries in silence, he makes sure hes always heard i speak on behalf of this creature because i am the caged bird “Caged Bird,” Illustration by Circe “Unplugged,” Illustration by Hecate
Lullaby of the Cosmos By A.T. Pacem it's the final autumn leaves that grace my skin and bones and hair that leaves my skin warm to the touch and my bones steady and strong against winter's whisper pushing against my chest my hair doesn't care the breath of the ghost of winter past lifts my heart up and makes it go wild higher and higher into the air where skylarks scream proclamations of love and the last nightingales finally soar south it's the heavenly moon i can see through my window as she cradles me in her light bright and soothing against the ravenous cold my face compares to hers pale soft lonesome it's when my eyes finally close for night to come take me away as I wait upon my blankets it's my lips the stars dance across black and lifeless
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Battle of Nature By Circe Growing up, I always wanted to mature faster. While my classmates read Magic Tree House, I had read the entire series and had moved on to Jane Eyre. I never really relished the innocence of childhood; I was too busy trying to be a grown-up. Although most of my childhood memory seems clouded, I have always remembered the day when I saw the battle of nature. It was a damp spring afternoon, and the teachers reluctantly let us play outside in the squishy mud. I chose the more solitary route, holding a book and sitting under my favorite tree. If my nose hadn’t been so deep in the book, I might have noticed a snake sliding past me onto the tree. A distressed caw broke me away from my intense reading. Glancing up, I immediately noticed a raging battle above. A cry escaped my mouth, and in an instant the entire class was surrounding me, watching the conflict. The cerulean birds darted in and out of the snake’s fangs like graceful dancers. Its wings were outspread, protecting the nest of
“Two’s a Party,” Photograph by Poseidon
small spotted eggs. Black, long, malicious, the snake slithered. Although we believed the birds might conquer the snake, deep down doubt began to fester. The mother bird grasped an egg in her claw and flew to a nearby tree to bring the egg to safety. Behind us, the principal pushed through with an umbrella in her hand and tried to knock the snake out from the tree. The fight became more intense. A lunge from the snake, then a jab from the umbrella, lunge again—finally contact was made. Fangs sank halfway into the wings of the male bird. Scarlet erupted from the wound, a red rose blooming as it stained the beautiful blue feathers. The head of the umbrella thrust at the snake, making it release the wing. The teachers began to usher us in, not wanting us to see the reality of the situation. It was the survival of the fittest—who would remain standing? I cast one look outside before I was shoved into the classroom. The reality was who would be left alive would by the winner. The snake approached the birds, circling its prey. My eyes squeezed shut not wanting to see the ending. While my eyes were firmly shut, the teacher took the opportunity to shepherd me
into the classroom. The day proceeded in silence with no note or indication to anything that had happened earlier during playtime. I anxiously awaited some form of news. Nothing was said. By the next day, it was almost as if the entire incident had been forgotten. By playtime, there was no trace of what had happened—just a murmur of accepted silence. It was almost as if it was a taboo to speak about it. I returned to my usual reading spot but could not even bear to sit and commence my usual behavior. Instead I moved to another tree, the very one where the bird had placed its young. While reading, I heard tiny screeches from under the mulch. I dropped my book and began to sift through the mulch, trying to find the origin of the sound. A familiar blue, spotted item caught my eye. It was the remains of a shell scattered between the layers of mulch. My eyes began to tear thinking of what occurred to the parents. Finally my fingers located the source of the sound. It was a pink, white creature absolutely hideous; but to me it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
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Timed
By Nike They were inseparable. They were almost the same person while they were together, but they were polar opposites when you managed to get one alone. It made for a very special bond— the bond of sisterhood. A bond that could never be broken. Malery wept tirelessly. Pillows suffocated her mascara-stained face as Etta sat next to her, rubbing her shoulder and softly whispering encouragement into deaf ears. The next day, she took a trip to the jewelry store and bought her sister a thin bracelet with letters that spelled out her name in pure sterling silver. At first, Malery thanked her sister, but she quickly went back into her dark place. Etta grew worried as Mal’s tears continued to flow with no sign of stopping. Malery was always so confident. She would walk through the school like she owned the hallway and everyone in it. Her head was held as high as her heels. She ruled the world with no sign of stopping. Until now. Etta tried everything that she saw in girlfriend movies— comforting the newly broken as the friends ate pounds of chocolate and made angry lists. But Mal was just miserable. As time went on, Malery continued to fade. She never wore the bracelet, claiming that she didn’t want any fancy jewelry. Her once fashion-forward self retreated into a sloppy mess. Eventually, she talked, but never like her previously bubbly self. Etta grew restless and went back to the jewelry shop. She had no money, but she hoped the shopkeeper might have answers. Etta marched up to the woman at the front desk. “Can I assist you in any way?” the woman asked. “My sister is going through a break up, and she’s a mess. Is there any way I could help her? I already got her a bracelet, but it wasn’t enough to help her.” “Have you tried diamonds?” “That’s too expensive. Do you have any other advice?” “I’m sorry miss, that sounds like a personal problem. It’s rubies, sapphires or emeralds. I’m not a therapist.” “You can’t just try?” The shopkeeper just shook her
head and left her to help another woman peering at the store’s most expensive earrings. A tap on her shoulder forced her to turn around. It was a girl about her age wearing a blue apron. “Hey, I’m Gianna.” “Hi, I’m Etta.” “I can help you. I usually work in the stockroom, but you sounded so stressed and sad that I just had to come out.” “What do you have?” “A watch,” Gianna whispered “How’s that going to help?” “Shhh…keep your voice down and follow me.” Etta was hesitant to follow Gianna into a back room alone, but she took a deep breath and went ahead anyway. The stock room was large, but Gianna continued to scurry towards a barely visible back room. “Is this part of the jewelry store?” Etta questioned. “Of course not, it’s my own store. It just happens to be connected to that shallow nightmare’s boutique.” Gianna’s shop was full of jewelry. Organization seemed to be a foreign concept—fallen beads lined the floor, making walking a challenge. She had a small desk in the corner where a manual was propped up next to tools. “I sell very special jewelry,” Gianna boasted. “What do you mean?” “Well, it helps people. My store is called Therapeutic Treasures.” Intrigued with the concept, Etta felt herself trusting the strange girl. Gianna gave her a short tour of the store, showing her the magical powers of her beads and glass work. She placed a small ring that was supposed to induce hunger on Etta’s finger. Immediately, Etta started to crave all kinds of food, and Etta threw off the ring as her stomach began to cramp. “Is this stuff safe?” “Some safer than others, but hey…whatever works, right?” “Okay, so what did you have in mind for my sister?” “Oh, yes. The watch.” Gianna walked across the room, searching through large drawers and pulling out piles of jewelry. Finally, she pulled out a fairly large watch in a jar. “So, the watch is pretty simple. It gives the wearer immunity against one emotion. The immunity is only valid when one
has the watch on their body,” Gianna explained. “It’s also waterproof. That’s a new feature.” “Can I try it?” Etta questioned. “Well, darling, I’d say yes, but this guy is very finicky. He imprints to the first wearer and can only protect one person against one emotion.” Nodding her understanding, Etta asked what the price was. “You can’t put a price on happiness. Now, go fix your sister!” Back at home, Malery sat slumped on the couch still in her p.j.s eating a large tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. “Mal, I brought you something.” Etta opened the lid of the jar and took Mal’s limp wrist from the T.V. remote. Etta fastened the watch around her sister’s arm and made a wish. “Okay, watch, I wish to protect my sister against the feeling of heartbreak.” Immediately, Malery’s downtrodden face turned back into its normal glow. “I feel fantastic!” Malery cried, grabbing her sister and pulling her in for a tight hug. “I love you, Etta!” Malery was back, and all was well. The next week, Malery did everything with Etta. They went shopping and cooked dinners together like they used to. Malery was perfect; her confidence was back. Her position on top of the world was restored. One day, Malery and Etta went to an ice rink together. They were sliding and gliding all around until Etta slipped, pulling Malery down with her. Malery’s wrist slammed into the ice, sending Malery into a fit of rage. “You could have broken the watch, Etta!” Malery shrieked. “It was an accident. Plus, it didn’t break.” Etta replied. “Yeah, whatever. We need to leave. It’s too dangerous here.” Mal and Etta left at once. To protect her sister’s happiness, Etta covered Mal’s wrist with bubble wrap. Etta needed to keep the watch intact. A few nights later, Etta wanted to go out and see a movie with Mal. She knocked on Mal’s door. Nobody replied. Etta opened the door slowly, not wanting to impose. Malery’s room was dark, and Mal sat criss -cross in a candlelit corner. She was stroking her wrist and whispering endearing words to the watch. Etta quickly closed the door before Malery could see
her. Etta brushed the scene aside, assuring herself that Malery was acting strangely because she was in love with her newfound happiness and that the candlelight was keeping her warm. It didn’t matter. Etta was in complete support of Mal’s practices if it meant she was happy. The next morning Mal came downstairs, chirpy as always, and the two sisters made a fancy breakfast of waffles garnished with plump raspberries. They sat at the table reminiscing and giggling about the most ridiculous memories. For the first time, Etta felt at ease. After a week of everything going well, Malery started getting severe cramps. They grew into constant, pounding headaches that caused her to scream. Etta was confused. She didn’t know what was happening to her sister, but whatever got into her wouldn’t stop. That night, a blood curdling scream sounded from Malery’s room. Etta rushed to go help her, only to find Malery on the floor screaming. “NO! STOP, MAKE IT STOP! NO!” Etta tried to wake Mal only to find that she was fully conscious. She flipped her struggling sister onto her back and screamed. Mal’s once sparkling eyes had turned into endless black holes. Her body convulsed as her wrist spouted blood. Finally, a shadow appeared and started speaking to Malery in a voice that raised the hairs on the back of Etta’s neck. “What do you want? Your happiness or your dark days?” “My happiness!” Mal screamed. “Well then, give me your watch or I’ll take you back to a very dark place,” the shadow spat. “No, you can’t take me or my watch!” she shrieked. Etta panicked. “Malery, give her the watch! You don’t need it to be happy. You can be happy without it!” “No, Etta! I need it. I will bleed out every vein in my body before I give it away.” “So, you’ve made your decision? Shall I pack your bags for our journey into the fires?” The shadow taunted. “No, I want to stay here, with my happiness!” “That’s not an option!” the shadow hissed. “Then…then…take my sister!” Fin.
The False Dichotomy By Rabid Fairy
From the start of my life I’ve heard I can be this or that One or the other Like I’m expected to exist in this shiny box Defined by others I’m cramped inside with every person Who is defined by the same traits I will stay in this box because I wasn’t born in the other And whenever I express that I feel Constricted and confined, I am told “Think outside of the box, but never step out of it.” Because as soon I’m outside of that box, I am different I am defying the laws of nature; I am defying what has been Shouted at me since day one “You cannot be both! You cannot be neither! You must fit in the box or you do not exist” And while I want to exist, I do not fit in the box I am not what you tell me I am so much more than one half of a dichotomy Enforced by the views of society I am not this or that; I am not one or the other; I am not black or white, But I am not the dreary shades of
“Another Try,” Illustration by Hecate
“Snow Angel,” Illustration by Alice Fraser
Gray between the two shades Because I am so much more than what you view as dull No, I am a rainbow of colors, bursting with life, Raw with ambition, Drunk on my confidence that I am me I have stepped out of my box I have broken free of my constrictions; Broken free of my chains! And I feel like I can finally breathe I am no longer being defined By what society perceives me to be And while they shout, telling me And all those who refuse to fit Into the nice dichotomy That we will never be successful, Never be happy, never be accepted They are wrong Because I have accepted me, I have decided I am happy And therefore I am more successful than anyone who Cannot see the variety of life will ever be So tell us we are different, tell us we were wrong Even though there is nothing more wrong than you Trying to kill the life inside in me I will not be constricted by your chains Or your cruel names and I will never die I will thrive And above all I will turn by back on you false dichotomy And invite everyone who doesn’t Fit in those silly shiny boxes To join me
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“Joy,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
Empty Light By Corvus There are more productive things to do Than sitting here all day Reading nothing, listening to silence I’m wasting my life away These words fly past Too fast for me to see My thoughts are jumbled, incoherent From the ground they’ll never leave I have pretentions of success But what use are dreams in life If all I ever do with them Is push away the strife My thoughts are unoriginal New ones are not required Every day my hopes, my dreams Are thrown upon the pyre
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The fire illuminates the dark But I’ve gone far past the light I’ve lost it all, and if I haven’t I fear for the future in sight “Christmas Fireflies,” Photograph by Echo
The Nutcracker By Buckbeak Aimee stared in awe of the strange object. It had come from another place—from a faraway land. She was a winter fairy, and it was a strange occurrence for a UFO (Unidentified Foreign Object) to come in the winter season. They usually came in the summer—another strange phenomenon that the scientists at UFPA (Universal Fairy Protection Agency) were working on solving. But that wasn't Aimee's problem. She worked in Retail— accounting, to be specific. She made sure all of the merchandise was accounted for, and she had seen it all, from the little cut protectors to the large hats made for the summer fairies. They were the vainest of all, always worried about their complexions as they worked in the sun. However, it was the winter fairies who needed to watch out. Because of the lack of the sun during the winter, they grew very pale. But when it turned to summer, winter fairies didn’t tan very well; their skin turned bright red. It was not an even spread of red, either. It was blotchy and looked like a rash. But luckily for the winter fairies, Aimee knew that there were about 250 bottles of aloe lotion. She’d counted. But Aimee had never seen an object as strange as the one in front of her. It was lacking in size but multicolored. There was a face on it—one of a young man with a black mustache but white hair. Or is it blonde? thought Aimee as she looked at the object in front of her. He had a large hat on, but not like the ones in the shop. It was a tall hat, black with a gold chain in front but below the lid. The man didn't have wings, and he didn't have ears either. He was wearing a red coat with golden buttons. The man seemed to have a white shirt under it, but Aimee wasn't sure. She tried to pull the coat off him, by it seemed stuck to his body. The man was wearing a pair of
black trousers underneath the coat. He wore a pair of black boots, clean and shiny as if they were newly shined. The man had an opening in his mouth, but it opened and closed by a lever in the back of his head. Aimee assumed he wasn't alive; he was most likely a doll. UFOs were usually quite big, so it was assumed that the UFOs came from giants. Maybe it was a doll for a very large girl. Thumping came from down the street, reminding Aimee that she had found the doll on the side of the road on her way home to celebrate Christmas. She’d immediately gotten distracted by the peculiar doll and had forgotten that she could only stay at night. As soon as the morning sun came up, she had to leave before anyone saw her. If someone did, then the FPA (Fairy Protection Agency) would have to get involved, and that was never good. The footsteps grew closer, so Aimee did the only thing she could think of. She jumped into the doll's mouth and shut it. It jolted, and it felt like she was being picked up and carried away. Aimee swallowed hard; she really hoped the FPA didn't come. Aimee must have fallen asleep because the next thing felt as was being bounced up and down. She quickly peeked out of the doll's mouth to see what was going on. It was dark, so Aimee got out of the mouth and started to flap her wings. She didn't get very far. Aimee was stopped by what felt like a wall, and she felt around for a door. Maybe I'm in a room? She couldn't find an opening, but, all of a sudden, a voice came from above. “Oh! I do wonder what could be in the box!” Aimee hid in what seemed to be a corner in the hopes that whoever opened the box would be so preoccupied with the doll that they wouldn't notice her. There was a large burst of light from the top of the room, and Aimee shrunk back into the corner as a large hand came nowhere to pick up the doll.
“Oh, wow! I just love it! Thank you, Fritz!” Aimee zipped out of the room, hoping to be met with open air. But all she hit was another barrier. This time it was the ceiling. She looked around in panic, hoping that nobody had noticed her. She hid in the tree that was in the center of the room, flying to the top and landing on one of the branches. Aimee scanned the area, looking for an open window. She couldn’t find another exit; she would have to wait until it was night again. Aimee was in what seemed to be a living room filled with family members. The room was split between the parents and children. While many of children
were asleep, there were still two who were awake and playing with their toys. One was a girl, who was playing with the doll that Aimee found, while the other was a younger boy who was playing with small statues. The parents went by the big piano in the corner of the room near the fire and started to sing. The two children looked up and happily started to sing along with them. Aimee smiled, and then started to grin. The room must have gotten too hot because one of the adults opened a window. Aimee flew through outside, where it was snowing lightly, flying fast to get home as soon as possible. It was the perfect temperature to go flying.
“Ready for the Mouse King,” Photograph by Calypso
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Rain and Fire By Aradia Fire fell from the sky Solid anger and pain Thrown raw by the dust of wind Heaven's angels are silenced By the fire pouring from their mouths Ice too is cooled From solid passion to whispering regret Born from the boiling rock inside A single person A fire within, a fire without What a shame, she was Too hot to touch
Sky on Fire By Senpai
“Burning Skies,� Photograph by Calypso
I Am in Love with You By Luna Moon Sparkles Everyday I see you kissing your love. I feel my heart break. He doesn't want you the way I do. He doesn't want love you the way I do. Honey, you're looking the wrong way. I am perfect for you. You said so yourself. You are perfect for me. I love you, I love you. I love you. We are meant to be. Forever and always. 10
Storm, Meet Calm By Bandersnatch
The blazing hot sun And the fiery red sky Clash with tones of bright red Like an arrow on fire The golden sun Touches the sky With an explosion Of fire That lights up the sky That is the Terror That is the Beauty Of the fiery sky
you are the thunder
crackling and
off in the distance
sparking and
booming and
drawing
shaking and
attention to you
you are the rain
shaking and
on the windowsill
booming and
i am the calm
pounding and
rattling
after the storm
beating and
the soul inside me
inhaling and
beating and
exhaling and
pounding and
you are the lightning
exhaling and
demanding
high in the sky
inhaling and
to be let in
sparking and
banishing
crackling and
you from my thoughts
Rhadamanthus’ Rant In today’s modern world, news is all around us. Whether we’re searching on our phones, browsing on our computers, or watching CNN, we have instant access to every major event that happens on the global stage at the touch of our fingers. With all the information that is readily available to us, you’d think that our community would be as informed and educated on current events as any. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Despite the fact that all the news we could possibly need is just a Google search away, many CHS students are grossly uninformed and often apathetic to everything that goes on in the world around them. Take the events of the past few weeks, for example. Over the last few weeks, the entire country has been in a unified uproar over the decisions made by grand juries in Ferguson, MO, and Stanton Island, NY to not indict two white police officers in the deaths of two unarmed black men. Once the decisions to not indict the officers were announced, mass protests began to spread like wildfire around the country. Thousands of people marched peacefully on the streets of Washington D.C., New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, and many more of the nation’s most important cities. While most of these protests were peaceful, some were not. In the days following the decision in Ferguson, many expressed their anger by burning down buildings, looting stores, and creating a chaotic environment in certain parts of Ferguson, which led to a mass overreaction by police officers, many of whom used tear gas and fired
rubber bullets in an effort to disperse the crowd. The reckless behavior of the rioters combined with the excessive response of the police made for a field day for the major news corporations, such as CNN, who plastered images of the riots all over the internet, social media, and television. Many of the images of the protests and riots looked like something we would find in the “1960’s” section of U.S. History textbooks. The unrest brought about by the grand jury decisions was all the media talked about for weeks, and it was nearly impossible to start a conversation with an adult without discussing the issue. In the hallways of CHS, however, very few students even mentioned what was happening. Of those who did mention it, many did so only to say that they either did not really know what was happening or that they did not care. The near apathetic reaction of many CHS students to a series of events that has garnered a wealth of attention throughout the world is concerning and underscores a
deep-rooted issue in our society. In the “Potomac Bubble” that we live in, most of us are so concerned with what is happening in our own lives that we seem to forget that the world around us is changing and that many of the events that we are living through today will go down as key moments in our history. We’re fortunate enough to live in an age where we can find out about the news as it happens, and to waste that privilege by ignoring the problems of the outside world is not only ridiculous, but it is also an insult to our history. During the 1960’s, in the heart of the Civil Rights Movement in America, odds are almost every high school student in the nation, regardless of their views on the issue, was very much informed about the changes that were going on in the world around them. And yet, now that fifty years have passed and it’s even easier to keep track of the news, many CHS students refuse to do so. It’s amazing how we are perfectly O.K. with spending hours reading and talking about what
our friends put on Twitter, but we somehow cannot find the time or the interest to discuss many far more important things that are happening in our world. Granted, there are many possible reasons for why CHS students do not often discuss current events. The news that we watch on CNN or read about online usually isn’t good news, and many of us do not feel like spending our free time reading and talking about the often controversial issues that shape today’s society. But that is no excuse to not be informed. When the entire nation is talking about an issue that can have a lasting impact on our future, it is unacceptable to brush it aside with a simple “I don’t care.” Everything that happens in the world becomes a permanent part of our history, and we have a responsibility to use the advantages that technology gives us to stay informed and to discuss not only the issues that are affecting our world right now, but also those that will undoubtedly affect it tomorrow. “Then and Now,” Photograph by Poseidon
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Crown By Raven She’s stretched across her throne of tin Her crown is made of gold and glory Perhaps the road was carved from sin But that’s not how she’ll tell her story
“Ella Enchanted,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
Lightbreaker By Hades My sweet naif, my summer child, With doe-like eyes of wonderment, By the real world still undefiled, Remain so innocent.
My ingenue, my crying girl, With sad eyes that know too much pain, Which have seen the dread truth unfurl, Your tears are all in vain.
My grim lady, my solemn wife, With hard eyes bare of levity, Knowing now too, too much of life, Will you not smile for me?
May you dance in your green meadows And dream of your golden sunshine. But do not flee from the shadows, For one day you’ll be mine.
May you learn how to dry your face And fortify your spine with steel, Smile at the world with icy grace. Only thus shall you heal.
May you remember how to sing With no care as to who might hear, Only caring about laughing, A sound I hold most dear.
One day you will know the twilight, And the gray dusk will know you, too. One day you will be wreathed in night. Darkness will become you.
One day you will manage to sleep And claim your rest long overdue. One day you’ll sink into the deep. Darkness will welcome you.
One day we will dance, you and I, While bidding the shadows adieu, For dawn will be all that is nigh. Darkness will long for you.
I’d hoped the only shade you’d know Would be a sky of midnight blue, Lucent with the moon and stars’ glow. This darkness becomes you.
I hoped good dreams would be bursting But that your nightmares would be few, Gone with the passing of evening. This darkness becomes you.
I hope you’ll always find the sun And your spirit will remain true. The long night will at last be done. Darkness shall not find you.
Or the shade of an apple tree, Where you might steal a nap or two And forget your ev’ry worry. Such darkness becomes you.
Or the whispers of lullabies Would accompany you in lieu, As you lie in wait for sunrise. Such darkness becomes you.
Or if you stay, then you will learn Where you are is never lightless. Yours is the star that’ll always burn. You become the darkness.
Ave Maria
By A.T. Pacem ave maria someone make me repent for my sins i am the demoness among men and the entity of wrath lust, gluttony, greed, envy, sloth and my dearest pride who lets me sleep safely at night but as i pray with your prayer on my lips i still strive to sin ave maria why doth thou cry for my misdemeanors when i enjoy every bit of pain i bring to myself wipe your useless tears and let me run free ave maria it's your motherly heart that imprisons my wild soul to life of boring eternity i shall repent if i am set free so please let me go let me free of these shackles of good i do not need a god to guide my life when i want my freedom ave maria why leave me to the wolves? i am dead because of you yet i still pray with your name on my lips because you made me the slave of faith and obedience i never wanted to be o mother, my mother ave maria ave maria “The Woods,” Illustration by Angiosperm
“Red,” Illustration by Calliope
My Sky, Aflame By A.T. Pacem
ash scatters across my lips as the sky blazes vermillion i can't seem to escape this heat this heat that boils my skin and sets my heart aflame the sorrows of blue skies scream and radiate through my ears as i clamp them shut but i can't seem to forget her shrieking the clouds have hid somewhere in the ground somewhere i can't reach but it is still hidden away from me i have been shunned from such a sacred place now i am the outcast and my sky burns more fiercely than a heart dipped in bitter acid 13
“Snow Queen’s Dance,” Illustration by Japanda3
Four Months Without You By Bravery Darling, it’s been four months but I still feel you strolling around our kitchen, laughing at a simple joke I’ve told too many times. And sweetheart, my heart still aches because I still feel your gentle hands grasp mine when I’m not feeling well. Love, it’s getting colder, and I’m starting to forget the radiant smile that lit up our living room. I feel as dead as the trees, unable to breathe. It’s winter, and the fireplace lacks the warmth your arms held. It’s been four months, and you only visit me in my dreams. 14
“Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm
Carnival Tail By Calypso The filth began to gnaw at me. Every hour, it seemed as though the water in the tank became dirtier, making it unbearable to swim in, let alone breathe in. I soon found that the only reprieve was at the surface of the tank, where I could breathe in the cleaner, if not drier, air. However, once the ringmaster noticed my new habit, he made sure to schedule centaur practices on dry days when the sun baked the earth and left dehydrated cracks in the ground. Dust flew up in clouds, clogging my nose and throat. I kept an eye out for Aurelia during their practices. Perhaps by coincidence or because one of the others informed the ringmaster, she never practiced in my tent again. I tried asking Cispen on the second day of her absence, but he only answered me once with a brief, “She will not be practicing here for some time.” “Cispen, brother,” I said as he passed by on the fifth day. He glanced up, his skin glistening with sweat. “Any news?” He crossed his arms, allowing the muscles to bulge before drawing closer to my tank. I floated up to be at eye level with him, and I realized how broad his face was compared to mine. His heavy brow lowered, and he said, “I can’t help but wonder what your interest in Aurelia is. You cannot drown her from your cage.” “I can’t help but wonder why you’re so protective of her,” I snapped, and he grit his teeth. “She’s my sister. I was the first to be captured among all the centaurs, and I allowed it to keep her safe. I hoped I would never see her again. Two weeks later I did.” “I…my apologies. I didn’t know,” I said, bowing my head. “Didn’t you think you could’ve escaped?” He snorted, stomping his hooves before steadying himself again. “No. The chains are iron, and until the men put up their fence, we are not allowed a single moment free of them. If we try to run, either the barbed wire will stop us, or their arrows will. They have ones tipped with iron just for us.” “Oh.” “Escape is not as simple as you might think. If it were, I wouldn’t be here. None of us would.” One of the others called his name, and he looked over his shoulder before
turning back to me and saying, “My sister sends a message: the carnival’s opening night is in two days. It would be unwise to disobey the ringmaster, especially when it comes time for you to sing.” “Thank you,” I said, but he was already trotting away. I rubbed the glass before me to better see out of the tank, and for the first time, I noticed the bands of discolored, patchy fur around his ankles. Once the centaurs left, I drifted to the bottom of the tank, closing my eyes as I settled down into sleep. I awoke to convulsions running up and down my legs. Screaming, I grabbed at them only to find that my hands were chained behind my back. I yanked at the chains, but I shrieked as my skin rubbed against the cool iron. My wrists began to throb, and the muscle spasms in my tail grew worse. I thrashed about as though I could shake off the pain, but it only grew worse until I felt the all too familiar sensation of my body splitting into two. Tears burned at my eyes, blurring my vision as I fell onto my back, my chest heaving and the muscles in my newly formed legs twitching from brief spasms. “Awake at last. I was beginning to wonder how long you’d take,” the ringmaster’s voice said above me. Rolling towards the sound of his voice, I squeezed my eyes shut before opening them, straining the muscles around my eyes in an attempt to stop myself from crying. He stood above me. His boots had been shined, and his clothes had been cleaned and pressed, but I could still see the stains. He held a rope, and I frowned as my eyes traced it back to me. The other end had been tied around my neck in a loose noose knot. I grit my teeth as he leered at me and said, “Aren’t you going to ask? I’m sure you’re dying to know.” I looked around, frowning when I realized that I was lying on the dirt ground of the main tent. The tank was empty of water, and two men were standing inside, cleaning its walls. Two more men stood outside, directing the ones inside. Turning back to the ringmaster, I opened my mouth before shutting it again. “Oh, that’s right. Our little canary doesn’t want to speak,” he said with a smirk. “It’s our opening night tomorrow, and we need to get you prepared. You!” I jumped as he
snapped his fingers at the one of the men outside the tank. Recognizing him as one of the men who’d kidnapped me, I snarled, but neither man noticed. The man joined us, and the ringmaster said, “Take her to Lacey and get her cleaned up and prepared. Once she’s done, throw her in the cage for the night.” To the other men, the ringmaster yelled, “I want that tank sparkling by tomorrow night!” The ringmaster handed the rope to the man, and the man tugged at it as he ordered, “Get up.” I glared at him, and the man tugged at the rope, straining my neck and forcing my chin up with the turns of the knot. Growling, I forced myself to sit up with my legs tucked beneath me before steeling myself and shifting my weight onto my toes. My legs burned in protest as I rose, but I continued, shifting back onto the soles of my feet until I was standing upright. The man gave the noose another tug, and I followed him out of the tent. The sky was overcast, but the air was warm and muggy. Men mingled about, many with pails by their side or with food already in their hands. As we passed, they turned to look at me, smirking as their eyes roamed freely over my body. I grit my dull man-teeth, throwing my head forward so that my hair covered the front of my body. One of the men whistled at me, and I resisted the urge to bite him. Even with my dull teeth, I was sure I could do some damage. We passed a centaur chained to a post, and I realized it was Aurelia. Her eyes were closed, and her head was bowed in sleep, but I called, “Aurelia!” She flinched before looking around and seeing me. Her features sagged in solidarity, and she replied, “Don’t resist. Not yet.” “What?” I asked, but the man tugged the noose again, making me stumble forward. “Ben!” he called, and a wide-set man set down his pail and picked up a whip. Aurelia stepped back, but the iron chain around her neck prevented her from making it more than five feet. Neighing, she reared up only to be dragged back down by the chain. She trotted around Ben, trying to stay out of range, but with a flick of his wrist, a new wound opened up on her flank. The man dragged me away and
into the nearest tent, but I could still hear the lashes of the whip and Aurelia’s hooves pounding the ground as she tried to escape him. “Lacey!” the man called, and a slim woman adorned with a sparkling black robe entered from the inner portion of the tent. Her eyes fixed on me, and her mouth widened into a predatory smile. “Is this our little mermaid?” she asked, walking towards me. I stood several inches taller than her and at least two inches wider, but the glint in her eyes made me shrink back. Reaching out, her spidery fingers grasped my chin, and she forced my head this way and that. “Oh, her eyes are just as lovely as Tomas said. Look at them. Any jewel would befit her, and she would look like a queen. And her skin. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I stepped back, but her grip tightened, pulling me forward again. “I know just what to do with you,” she said, taking the rope from the man. “Come, Opaline. Time to make you beautiful.” She led me inside, where racks of clothing lined the tent walls except for a small section where a table sat. A mirror was attached to it, and the surface was covered with boxes and brushes. She sat me down at the table, and I winced as I hit a bone in my lower back. Before I could run, she tied her end of the rope to the back of the chair, knotting it several times. “I found waterproof makeup several months ago at a bazaar. The men laughed at me then, but now they’ll see,” she said, opening a drawer and putting most of the boxes away. She began replacing them with green boxes, and she continued, “It’s enchanted, too. It won’t come off for a week unless you use a special cleanser. It won’t even smudge.” She pulled out a tube and leaned in towards my face. I leaned back, and she snapped, “Opaline, sit up. I can’t work on you unless you’re sitting up, and if I can’t work with you, I’ll have to turn you over to a whipper. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” I grit my teeth, slowly sitting back up, and she smiled, patting my cheek with her free hand as she said, “Good girl. Now, stop grinding your teeth.”
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HNIB cont. Relaxing my mouth, I glared at her, and she nodded. “Good. Let’s get to work.” Several hours later, I found myself staring at a distortion in the mirror. The area under my cheekbones had been darkened, and my eyelids sparkled with pale gold lining the upper lid of my eyes. My lips had been stained darker blue, almost purple. Strings of pearls were affixed to my hair, some strands looping to create a sort of crown around the top and others hanging free. Another string of pearls had been tied around my neck, and an opal had been glued to the base of my neck. Bands of mother of pearl with iron bases were attached to both my wrists, and a belt of pearls rested on my hips. “See? You look like the queen of the ocean,” Lacey said, resting her bejeweled fingers on my shoulders. The iron in several of her rings burned at my skin, and I snarled. The Queen would never dress so garishly. Lacey patted my shoulders, smiling at her handiwork before saying, “I’m going to get Derek. You stay here.” Seeing as I was still tied to the chair with a noose around my neck, I had little choice. She disappeared, and I snarled at my reflection, trying to find some of myself in the caricature I saw before me. I set my hands on the table, but the movement brought tears to my eyes. Sure enough, the makeup didn’t smudge. Lacey returned with the man from before, and he crossed his arms, taking me in. “I don’t know how you do it, Lacey,” he said. “She looks just like the promotional poster.” “I have my ways,” Lacey said, walking towards me and running her fingers over the pearls in my hair. “Be careful with the pearls. They’re real, and I don’t want them breaking.” “Real pearls?” the man exclaimed. “Why’d you give her real ones? Where’d you even get ‘em?” “Oh, they were a bargain,” Lacey said with a wave of her hand. “Besides, if we’re marketing her as the queen of the ocean, she should have real pearls.” “What? Is that a real opal, too? Lacey, you know what Tomas said about your habit. Someone could recognize them.” “Please. You worry too much. Just be careful with them.” She dis-
missed him with another wave of her hand, and she turned and left. Shaking his head, the man untied me and forced me to my feet. He led me back outside, and I struggled to keep my head held high with the weight of the pearls. I looked around for Aurelia, but the post was deserted. I paused when I saw darkened spots in the dirt, but the man jerked me away before I could get a better look. Leading me across the carnival, the man said, “Tomas had the cage moved back to the main tent. He doesn’t want to upset you with a new environment. Not so close to the show.” I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes, but the man seemed to sense my skepticism. He tugged on the rope again, making me stumble. Only this time, the weight of the pearls pulled me forward, and I fell. Yanking me up by my arm, the man checked the pearls in my headpiece and around my neck before continuing on. We reached the tent, where the men had finished cleaning the tank. The walls were clear once more, but two wires now ran down the inside walls. The ends reached about halfway down, and on the outside, the other ends connected to a black box. I frowned as the man led me towards a metal cage. My wrists still burning, I felt my stomach clench as sweat began to bead on my forehead. The man hadn’t released my arm, and he felt my resistance. “It’s not iron,” he snapped, tightening his grip as he unlocked the cage with his free hand. “We can’t afford to have you covered with burns.” The man opened the door and moved his grip to my neck, forcing me to crouch and climb into the cage. It was barely tall enough for me to sit in without slouching, and I couldn’t extend my arms more than halfway before reaching the bars. Staring up at the man, I watched him snicker as he locked the cage and called out, “Tomas!” The ringmaster appeared out of the backroom, and he nodded in approval as he neared us. “Lacey did her work well. What do you think, Opaline?” I was silent, and he said, “I thought as much. We’ve made a few improvements to your tank. See those wires? I brought an expert in to install them. Once the tank’s filled up again, they’ll send a cur-
rent through the water with a press of a button. Should be a nice little jolt for anything inside.” My mouth opened and my brow furrowed, and he said, “That’s right, Opaline. You’re going to sing tomorrow night. Or you’re going to learn what pain truly is. I hope you’ve enjoyed the iron. It’ll seem like a treat compared to this.” He and the man left, and I drew my knees to my chest, staring at the wires as I tried to think of a plan. I hadn’t thought of a single viable option when the tent doors opened and the harpoon man stepped inside. His eyes went to the tank first, and when he didn’t see anything, they found the cage. He approached me, crouching so that he could better see me. “You look beautiful,” he said, reaching through the bars and touching my face. My stomach tightened as my arm twitched, fighting the desire to smack his hand away. “I wasn’t able to bring food. I guess that’s just as well,
though. You don’t have anything to wash off the blood with.” Retracting his arm, he glanced around before telling me in a hushed whisper, “I arranged a way to escape. Tomorrow night, after the show, a friend of mine will provide us with horses and clothes. Once everyone’s asleep, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to sneak in. We’ll have to ride hard the first night, but after that, you’ll be free.” The light of a torch passed by us outside the tent, and the harpoon man looked up sharply. “I have to go. Be ready tomorrow night.” Without another word, he stood and fled. I sat back in the cage, leaning against the bars as I crossed my arms. Escape. Somehow, I could barely muster the energy to smile at the thought. All I could think of were Aurelia’s last words to me. Not yet.
To Be Concluded...
“Don’t Let Them In, Don’t Let Them See,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm