January 2015

January 2015

Midnight Writers

Table of Contents Cover: “I Like Large Parties,” a photograph by Aries

This Page: “Lost but not Found,” an illustration

by Alice Fraser

Page 3: Ask Aphro & Dite  

A girl from West Egg wonders whether to attend a party Dionysus has a partying crisis

Calypso’s Island: 

The Lady of the Underworld on the American Dream

Echo’s Echo 

Our favorite nymph interviews an evergreen

Page 4: “Glittering Gold,” a short story by Bluejay “Golden Spiral,” a photograph by Bandersnatch “Golden Greed,” a poem by Vivian Griselda

Page 5: “How Great?” a rant by The Owlish Bookworm “A Little Party Never Killed Nobody,” a photograph by Nike

Page 6: “Daisy,” an illustration by Raven “I want it all,” a poem by Luna Moon Sparkles “Daisy, darling,” a poem by The Owlish Bookworm

Page 7: “Green Light,” an illustration by Bandersnatch “running out of time,” a poem by Bandersnatch “Blinding Light,” a poem by Calypso “Ultraviolet,” a photograph by Khokokat

Page 8: “Never Forget,” a poem by The Teumessian Fox “Into the Past,” a photograph by Calypso “Kill and Run,” a photograph by Nike

Page 9: “Sunset Bloom,” a photograph by Khokokat “Coal is Really Just a Diamond,” a poem by Rabid Fairy “Melted,” a poem by Winter “Purple Bloom,” a photograph by Aries

Page 10: “Avaritia,” a poem by Janus “Lost in Thought,” a photograph by Janus “All That Glitters,” a poem by Calypso

Page 11: “Irony,” a poem by Rabid Fairy

“Aging,” a poem by Lupus “Tarnished,” an illustration by Calliope

Page 12:

“What You See is Not Always What You Get,” a short story by Bravery

Page 13: Caspian’s Corner:  Divergent, 2014  City of Embers, 2008 “Across the Bay,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm

Page 14: “Winged Victory of Samothrace,” a poem by Janus “Sky on Fire,” a poem by Zenyatta “Be Not Afraid,” a photograph by Janus “Fallen Angel,” a poem by Calypso “La Bataille/The Battle,” a poem by Bandersnatch

Page 15: “Carnival Tail: Chapter Four,” a story by Calypso

Page 16: “Carnival Tail,” continued

issuu.com/midnightwriters midnightwriters2015@gmail.com

Ask Aphro & Dite

Dear Aphrodite, I recently moved to West Egg, and I’ve been invited to several parties at the home of a Mr. Gatsby. It's said that movie stars and politicians go there, and my mother wants me to better acquaint myself with such people, but I'm a little intimidated. What do I even wear to something like that? How should I act?

Yours, New to New York Dearest Newbie, Oh, darling, let me let you in on a little secret.

The parties that man hosts are getting closer and closer to the wild ones here on Olympus. Yes, he is nearing godlike status in party-throwing!

The glitter! The, ehm, beverages! The dancing and music and crisp, suited men! Yes, darling, you simply must attend. Mind yourself, and flirt—I mean, acquaint yourself to success, and dress to impress. From what I’ve seen, the dress code is simple—dress with the least material and the most sparkles. It’s imperative that you be noticed, so stick yourself into every conversation, onto the arm of every politician you see, next to the punchbowl at every table. Act like the shallowest, most superficial, chittery girl you’ve ever hated and you should be right as rain, darling. The best advice I can give you is to be sparkly and act sparklier!

Best of luck, Dite Dear Aphrodite, Dite, darling! It's been far too long since we've spoken. I've been hearing about some wild parties down in the mortal world, and I have to say that I'm impressed. They almost compare to my own. Which, as a god, I simply cannot allow.

Any advice on how to up the ante?

Yours, Dionysus Dionysus, darling— It’s simply has been too long! How are you? I’m so glad you came to me now. I completely understand what this situation calls for. All you have to do is make your parties more godlike.

Emphasize the differences and benefits of being one of the immortals. To be honest, you really can't get much more glittery or drunk or overwhelmed than when at one of your wild bashes, Dion. Make sure that those nymphs and satyrs know that they’re getting the immortal treatment. Drench everything in ambrosia, furnish the place with golden statues, invite only the Alist gods and you’ll be good to go. Any way manageable to make your parties more tacky than they already are will put you ahead of that little mortal man. As you should be.

Looking forward to the next party, Dite

Calypso’s Island

Hello, Midnighters! Don’t worry, I’m not going to joke about how it’s been a year since I last saw you. I’m sure you’ve heard it enough already. Still, it is nice to be in a new year. After all, any excuse to have fireworks at a celebration works for me (although technically I can’t see them from the Underworld, and Hades left a strict “no fireworks” rule for the realm). But, of course, there’s more to ringing in the New Year than fireworks. Humans seem to have a quaint tradition of packing into cities and standing in the cold for hours. I can’t pretend to understand it, but it makes them happy.

As for me, I hosted a small get together with my sisters and a few friends. My father couldn’t make it, as always. I realize that he holds up the sky and prevents it from crushing the earth, but it’s not like he can’t pass the burden on to someone else, even for an evening or two. That Percy what’s-his-face did it.

Anyway, I was having my get together, and of course, Dionysus showed up. He’d already had a few glasses—barrels, more like it—that night, and he kept rambling on about the best parties he’d ever attended besides, of course, his own. He kept mentioning some poor man named Gatsby and demanding advice on how to make his own parties better. (Apparently he’s been bothering all the gods about this.)

By the sound of his parties, this Gatsby wasn’t poor by any monetary standard, but the man pined after a crazed dream that apparently all Americans share. Poor things, dreaming of something that doesn’t exist. Far too many obstacles stand in the way, and America hasn’t done an excellent job at stepping up in the past few centuries or so. I’d say that it’s the point of a dream not to be a perfect replication of reality, but when there’s such a dissonance, it worries me, especially when it seems so integrated into their culture. Then again, I hear that this new generation’s paying more attention and is trying to close the divide between dream and reality. I can only hope they stay informed and spread their awareness, and that they’ll all keep their minds open to each other and the future.

I’d go on about the corruption of the American Dream, but I’m sure many of you have heard quite a bit about that in school. Besides, Persephone’s coming over soon. Apparently, her deal still stands, despite Hades having moved to Ogygia. I hope my plants are presentable for her. I’ll see you next month!

Echo’s Echo

Hello, Writers! Last month I grumbled over the absence of snow on this planet, and it seems like Khione heard and granted me a New Year’s wish. You’re welcome for that snow day, earthlings! But unfortunately this makes it more difficult for herbivores to find plants to feed on, and they’ve resorted to eating things they typically wouldn’t. I noticed a plethora of evergreen trees surrounded by hoards of deer noshing on them.

During one of my morning walks, I witnessed an evergreen flailing her branches at the deer biting at her. After successfully shooing them away, I plunked down next to her with tissues in hand, ready to comfort the poor tree. But Eva the Evergreen, as she called herself, didn’t need that.

“I don’t hate the deer,” she claimed, which surprised me. “They have no choice if they want to survive, and I can always grow my leaves back.”

When I asked her why she was trying to whack them away earlier, she groaned.

“What makes me absolutely livid is that their necks are too short,” she explained, “so they eat all the leaves on the bottom.

Now I’m top heavy! Goodness, I am going to be so out of shape by the time spring comes.”

And when I offered to bring some deer repellant to her, she screeched in disgust.

“I don’t hate myself enough to put that on me. That stuff smells awful!” (Which, by the way, it does. If you ever spill a bottle in your home, you need to evacuate immediately. It smells like death, and for someone whose President lives in the Underworld—hey, Calypso!—I would know.) Anyway, just seeing that she wasn’t blaming the deer was heartwarming.

It’s nice to see the unity between plants and animals. Mother Nature must be proud of her offspring.

Well, with the snow melting around them now, perhaps the evergreens can catch a break. Unfortunately, that means no more snow days in the near future for you students! Continue to push through, Writers. We’re halfway there!

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Calypso, Echo, Hecate, Bandersnatch, and The Owlish Bookworm 3

Glittering Gold

By Bluejay

The small kingdom of Lune, situated to the north between the two Great Rivers, was a noble and proud land. It was once said that the town was so well bathed in riches, the women showered in pure gold and lined their eyes with silver. As the town aged, the wealth dried up and was forgotten, lost to the shadows. The people became bitter, spiteful and suspicious of the king. They rioted, blaming him for all their misfortunes. He suppressed the violence, promising all that the time would come again for wealth. After all, as King Rowan repeated time and time again, “gold is only as precious as we make it.”

Lune remained a lost town for years to come. The blistering summer wind swept through the streets, whispering amongst the buildings and licking the pavement. The town heaved and sighed, its energy drained with every passing minute. It was getting older day by day, and the people aged with it. There were no new births that year, and the majority of the kingdom had grown feeble and weak. That was, of course, not including young Angelina. As the only daughter of King Rowan, Angelina was highly respected amongst the elders. She was a

new hope; blessed to them. She would lead the people into the future.

From a young age, Angelina was a promising child. She grew up in the recluse of her father’s palace, left alone to dwell in the shadows. She was rarely exposed to the outside world; hence, her skin grew as pale as the moonlight.

Angelina lived her life in the darkness, watching from afar as the people of Lune looked to the sky in hope. As Angelina grew older and claimed her right to the throne, the townsfolk began to see her true self. She was greedy and indulgent, hoarding all the small riches of the kingdom to herself. She scraped up every gold coin she could find, making sure nothing escaped her keen gaze.

She watched from atop the highest tower, her head held high as she looked down as the people starved and pleaded for aid. No help came.

It was discovered that the forgotten treasure of Lune was not in fact lost.

Angelina had known all along where it lay, and she’d locked it in the deepest dungeons of the castle. She would not give up a single piece, guarding her hoard with every fiber of her being.

Angelina grew poisonous, often slaughtering her own people to prove that she had power, signaling the others not to defy her. Her nails were sharp and thick

and she could easily slit a person’s throat with a simple flick of her fingers. Her eyes were turned upwards and shone with a pure and acidic green color that burned into the minds of all who crossed her.

Over time, Angelina’s greed only grew. She barricaded the castle, blocking every entry with mounds of armor. No one was allowed inside except for herself. She became more and more sick, her thoughts only on the gold with which she surrounded herself.

It is rumored that Angelina has since passed away, for once she disappeared into the castle, she never came back out.

The children tell tales of her spirit haunting the halls of the castle, sometimes slipping out in the dark of the night to terrorize the townsfolk. Others believe she still walks deep inside her domain, invested and smothered in jewels and gold. People have claimed to see her shadow in the tower and occasionally hear soft laughter coming from inside the palace. No one has dared to venture into her prison, be it her grave or her fortress of solitude, and a brave soul would not come along for years to follow. The doors to the castle remained locked, and as winter fell the next year, something peculiar happened.

The doors opened.

Golden Greed

By Vivian Griselda Empty treasure chests are what she had found, For diamonds are not the only thing that require a cost.

Buried deep beneath the insidious battlegrounds, The truth was discovered and the lies demanded to stay lost.

This fool’s gold blinded me to what My heart had already uncovered, Extravagance was diminished and heaven ceased to finish.

It’s these discreet, lingering feelings that continue to hover, One day he’ll push past this Sparkling snow that has him grinning.

Stepping-stones and waterfalls showering me from above, Lanterns and champagne are taking over the scene.

It’s forward that he drives while leaving me out of love, I can picture every last moment playing on the big screen.

But the real question is still to be asked, Who am I without you following behind me in the dusk?

A girl, a singer, or a fine writer with a soul, How imprecise it is to say, That you’ll never leave me wanting more.

I grab my guitar and strum without a care, Just grab your tequila and vanish into the thin air.

Because no matter what sweet ingredient You add to your bitter drink, It is I who will live on with my character established.

For you will die down once the bottle has Collapsed over the sink, While I’m ready to face the world, With nails freshly polished.

4

“Golden Spiral,” Photograph by Bandersnatch

How Great?

By The Owlish Bookworm

Yes, yes, we all know that The Great Gatsby is the great American novel. It’s wonderful. Really, it is. Every time you read it, there’s something new and intriguing. But let’s take a second, shall we, and check out the namesake character? When it comes to Jay Gatsby himself, there are two schools of thought.

There are those who truly consider him The Great Gatsby. They admire his drive and persistence, and they swoon over his adorable attempts to woo back his lost love. What with Leonardo DiCaprio playing the part, it’s quite difficult to not go along with this. He just looks so sweet all the time. Even when he’s being stupendously awkward and the audience is keeling over from secondhand embarrassment, people still root for him.

Perhaps because as Americans, we love to root for the underdog. This stretches back to our own beginnings, considering that a ragtag group of minutemen were never supposed to defeat the intimidating force that was the British army. Much like Gatsby, a poor farm boy who was never supposed to make it out of the Midwest, but did so anyways.

Whether it be through underhanded and sneaky and highly illegal manner or not really doesn’t matter, because let’s be real, this country wasn’t exactly built off of honesty and happiness for everyone.

But basically, Gatsby succeeded when no one expected him to in making a name for himself. So why do we want more for him? Why do we think it’s okay for him to push Daisy into leaving her family?

She has a daughter, don’t forget. I know you did.

Which brings us to the other side. The Dark Side, the one that sees Gatsby for what he is in reality: a pathetic creeper who needs to pull himself together and get his life back on track. He’s obsessed with Daisy. Yes, obsessed. Not in love with. He knew her for all of two weeks! He never fell in love with the girl, only the idea of a rich girl and the money and supposed happily ever after that came with her.

She epitomized everything he could ever want, everything he was never allowed to have before. But trade Daisy out for any other twinkling daughter of a rich man and he’d have been the same way.

Don’t believe me? Let’s do a quick recap, shall we? Let’s start with the huge, drunken riots people called parties that Gatsby threw. Supposedly to bring in Daisy, but for real?

Daisy never would have walked in. She doesn’t drink, and she’s not about that fast life. How well do you know your girl, Jay? She loves stability, and here you are, messing around with gangsters?

Sweetheart, no. Take the money you have and leave it if you want your leading lady beside you. She won’t settle for an unpredictable romance.

Moving on to that chapter

“A Little Party Never Killed Nobody,” Photograph by Nike

starting with Daisy coming to Nick’s house for tea and Gatsby being incapable of social grace. Yes, stuttering and random lines are expected when confronted with the love of your life after some time. But Gatsby, honeybunch, she’s a person, not a business deal.

Yes, this means she requires attention and talking to, not just pretty flowers and a trip to your house. Pretty shirts and dancing isn’t going to make her leave her husband… oh, and of course pressuring her into confessing that she never loved Tom in front of him and a few friends isn’t exactly a good way to spend an afternoon.

If he’d really loved her, he would’ve contacted her quiet-

ly. Been with her as he had, hopefully with a little more conversation and intense gazing into eyes…without Nick being there to thirdwheel the heck out of the situation.

Pulled out of the gangster business, shown her the life he could give her, and maybe, just maybe, she would have gone with him and they all could have been happy. Or in Tom’s case, rightfully slighted because don’t cheat, you jerk.

So there. Truth is out. Gatsby was an idiot. If he’d had his life and mind together, he could’ve had it all, but he didn’t, so he just ended up rolling in the deep.

5

I want it all

By Luna Moon Sparkles They're all around.

Rich, rich people, they're all around.

They can buy whatever they want.

No need to look at a price tag.

I have to say I'm quite jealous.

I want their life.

Spending $8 million on parties, Shipping salami, Buying Fendi and Prada.

I wanna do it all.

I don't know how I am going to get there, But I don't care what it takes.

I want it all.

The fortune and glamour.

I want it all.

“Daisy,” Illustration by Raven

Daisy, darling

By The Owlish Bookworm

“It makes me sad because I’ve never seen suchSuch beautiful shirts before.”

Daisy, darling.

Parties thrown every night, Arm outstretched, Towards the green light, All for you, my darling dear, Just so I may keep you near.

“Gatsby believed in the green light, The orgiastic future that year by year Recedes before us.”

I've bought the house across the bay, To bridge the gap five years create.

Flowers of every aroma and hue, Grass freshly cut and tea for two.

Or three.

Shirts of every fabric and form, All so you will call me home.

6

If a string of pearls is what you need, I'll run the world dry of them, Don't hold back that greed.

It doesn't matter, I'll buy it all, For you my darling, You were my fall.

“He knew that when he kissed this girl, And forever wed his unutterable visions To her perishable breath, His mind would never romp again Like the mind of God.” Lady of my life, Queen of my heart, Leave your facade, Come be my wife.

"Oh, you want too much!"

She cried to Gatsby.

"I love you now – Isn't that enough?

I can't help what's past."

The yellow car, that woman's tone, This pattern of blood, It was my fault alone.

“Was Daisy driving?”

“Yes, but of course I’ll say I was.”

Turn your light on To tell me you’re all right.

Then call tomorrow morning To tell me that it's time, I'll go for a splash in the pool, a dive, And never suspect you don't care If I die.

Daisy, my darling.

“Green Light,” Illustration by Bandersnatch

running out of time

By Bandersnatch they're everywhere everywhere everywhere inside me around me they always surround me constantly counting down down down a kind of hypnotics that infects affects subjects the endless noise noise noise only relief is occasional sleep cold hollow sounds that echo around kicking and scratching at the walls of my mind hey help me out here i'm living in fear eternal pounding echoing inside my ears living like this isn't much of a life please release me from this pain and strife my ears are bleeding my heart will stop beating egregious amounts of noise sounding disbelief ticking away at my life they shout impossible for me to cry out can't feel can't scream this isn't what it seems killing me tearing from the inside out the clocks the clocks the clocks oh will they never stop can you help me out of here and kill the time to save my mind

Blinding Light

By Calypso It’s no use now.

I’m far past gone.

Crystal chandeliers lit my way Down this corridor of solid gold, Deeper down into this pit, Where only sludge and the Pasts of dreamers reside.

Trudging through the bits and pieces Left behind by miners who Tore this place apart in search for something More, something better than the Empty carcass that they discarded In their never ending search, I crouch in the darkness.

There are no more chandeliers here.

What did I hope to find?

Dreams have been stripped From these walls that must have glittered once With possibility and hope, But they are no more.

There is light, but I cannot turn to look Out of fear it will blind me.

“Ultraviolet,” Photograph by Khokokat

7

Never Forget

By The Teumessian Fox How would it feel to never forget?

To always mourn your loved ones, Or live in regret.

An elephant’s life is never forgotten, Living in the minds of their family, broken.

They will remember the day the life was stolen.

The future that is no longer golden.

An elephant will come back to the spot, Where you killed their loved one With a single shot.

After months and months You will haunt their minds The moment in time That always rewinds How would it feel, To be haunted by such evil?

“Into the Past,” Photograph by Calypso

Remember Remember An elephant’s temper.

You turned them this way So you can be haunted everyday.

Because an elephant will never forget And you will always regret The day You changed the gentle giant’s ways Both lives will decay Of regret and fear A life so dear Gone with the scream Of your rifle and dreams.

A life is now lost At such a huge cost So before you pull the trigger Remember, remember How it would to never leave anything unforgotten.

8

“Kill and Run,” Photograph by Nike

Coal is Really Just a Diamond

By Rabid Fairy In the summer of the year of sunshine, I felt the molten lava beneath my feet. Rivers of gold colliding with the creeks of mercury. It was the most expensive city on the planet, made of volcano rock and ash. The children in the village below choke on the fire in the air. Their parents live in houses of glass, hidden behind sheets of shimmering luxury. Silver cascades from the heavens, pouring shining raindrops into their pockets. On their horses of diamonds, they’re convinced the world is nothing short of perfect.

“Sunset Bloom,” Photograph by Khokokat

Melted

By Winter

A fire arose within me, Burning bright and full, The ice around me thaws, Nothing around me frozen and cool, A growing flame I saw, I feel the warmth in winter days, Enveloped in air, In so many ways, Sweet and fair, No words to say, No single lie, For the fire flows between you and I.

“Purple Bloom,” Photograph by Aries

9

Avaritia

By Janus

Beware the Seven Daughters of Greed!

How cruel they are, mocking man’s need Vicious smirks and lidded eyes Don’t listen to their honeyed lies.

Fortune is eldest of kin Heed her call to vice and sin Spin the wheel of lurid fame Gain or lose, she’s to blame King or slave, they will play When they lose, she’ll have her way.

Mighty Ambition holds a knotted rope One who climbs it has some hope They will reach heaven’s door Or fall to Hades forevermore They climb and climb some more Ambition is hell, they still adore.

Waste sheds her scaly skin Made of ruin, loss and sin Her grimy hands toss debris Consuming despite man’s plea Her toxic lair extends below The crust of Earth, and magma’s flow.

Corruption smiles her rotting grin Smoldering flesh, body corpse-thin Her sunken eyes gleam with want Power-hungry men she will taunt Fools stuck in a puppet’s dance Bewitched by her sneering glance.

Excess, her skin webbed with liquored veins Speaks with sour breath, bemoaning pains Too much of merry dance and play Leaves this girl puking away With whirlwind steps, she twirls and sways Lost in sordid thoughts and craze.

Parsimony, dressed in soiled rags

Clutches her warped plastic bags Filled with coins and flecks of mold She shields her greasy gold This miserly harpy always glares Money’s life, nothing else compares.

Longing, the youngest, moans and sighs She wishes for might and cloying lies But dreaming has potent power Her strength grows by the hour Little does this child know Wishing is the key to woe.

Beware these daughters of sin Close your door, don’t let them in Sweet words cannot conceal Their hidden malice is very real.

All That Glitters

By Calypso In a world of glittering gold The party seems infinite Always another song for dancing Another partner to sneak away with To share in an adventure One after another, if one fails Find another and begin anew No harm will ever come to you In this world of grandeur and endless fun There is never a need to look back Here, the music never fades The dancing never stops We’ll continue on like this Until our hearts no longer feel the rhythm And our feet are rubbed raw on the dirt and stone And the lights dim and there is Nothing left save for those Who found immortality And who will continue on To their next adventure 10

“Lost in Thought,” Photograph by Janus

Irony

By Rabid Fairy It’s poetic when it’s played by a character in a movie Pale skin, dead eyes, purple bruises plaguing her skin The chill that makes her hands shake The romance when the boy saves her from her self And the gun never makes contact with her lips But when it’s your best friend struggling to get out of bed Weighed down by a six ton anvil Pressing on her chest that you can’t see You tell her to get over herself Just be happy It’s no longer poetic when she swallows that bullet It’s romantic when the boy in the T.V. show does it Goosebumps on his arms, tremors in his fingers, Too nervous to say a word The quick beat of his heart in his chest With him, you see it as only anxiety over a cute girl You never see his panic attacks When it’s the boy in your English class Unable to confront the teacher Scared and anxious about any Little thing that could possibly go wrong You laugh about it with your friends And tell them you had a panic attack about tomorrow’s test But you didn’t go to sleep unable to breath

Aging

By Lupus When people begins to age They begin slowly sinking into the ground.

Their bodies sag.

Their hair lightens and weakens Into a gray mop atop their head.

Their thoughts come and go When they need them.

Those ideas have scurried away Into a little gray corner, It’s hard for us to connect with them As their memories are mixed together.

Through their foggy eyes and brain, A mother is now a young son, A young son is now a girl.

Names transform, And letters merge together.

They go through the daily motions, Ghosts of their former selves.

The illness that drowns the girl in a Crushing wave of depression is poetic A beautiful metaphor for when beauty and darkness collide With the purple bruises under her eyes, she is gorgeous The anxiety that hides under the boy’s skin is romantic That nervous feeling in his heart is because he’s in love Because only love could possibly make him that anxious It’s poetry and it’s romance Until it’s not The beautiful struggle against their own twisted demons The dark shadows that lurk in the Crevices of their vulnerable heart An impossible fight against an evil that is a part of them A fight against themselves And then it ends Cruel and wicked darkness Overcomes the little light that remains Is it still poetic When there’s nothing left “Tarnished,” Illustration by Calliope

11

What You See is Not Always What You Get

By Bravery “You’re kidding…right?”

Louise asked Zoe when she brought up the idea to go to a haunted house. Zoe just smiled sheepishly.

“Zoe, you know I don’t like haunted houses,” Louise groaned. Just thinking about going to a haunted house scared her. Those creepy clowns and stupid chainsaws—who even came up with a ridiculous idea like that?

“Please? My sister really wants to go, but she’s too scared to go by herself. She thinks if you come, she’ll be braver.”

“I’m the wimpiest person you’ll ever meet in your life.

How does she think I’m going to help her overcome her fears?”

“Lou, come on, it’s just one hour. Just one. That’s how long you have to suffer.”

“Fine,” Louise grumbled, rolling her eyes, but she smiled when Zoe patted her back.

“We’re meeting up at my house. Liam’s coming, too.”

“All right. What time?”

“Come over around five. Afterwards we can see a movie.”

“Sure, why not. You’re paying, though!” Louise laughed as Zoe walked away. *** Louise prepared by bringing pepper spray just in case some weirdo actually showed up with a chainsaw to scare her off. She could handle ghosts, vampires, werewolves—any superhuman being—but definitely not some asshole running around with a chainsaw. What if the idiot actually sliced her arm off?

Ever since Louise was little, she’d been terrified of horror movies. It started when she watched Saw 2 and 3 with her friends at a sleepover. None of the other girls had any problem with it, but Louise swore she heard the creepy doll cackling in the bushes outside her friend’s house. It gave her chills just thinking about it.

She packed her bag full of food and her trusty pepper spray and got into her car to drive to Zoe’s place. *** “O.K., the first thing we’re

gonna do once we get out of there is to check and see if everyone is here, got it?” Liam said.

“Wait, why?” Louise’s fear grew. What was he talking about? Louise thought this was a normal haunted house, where people just wore masks and scared people.

“It’s been said that people have died going through this house because of bad construction. I don’t know much about it, but if everyone sticks together, we’ll be fine.”

“Oh my gosh,” Nyla, Zoe’s sister, said. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Lou, calm down. Liam’s just joking, right?” Zoe turned to her friend for confirmation.

“Uh...yeah…”

“Fantastic.”

“Let’s just go in,” Zoe said.

The first obstacles they encountered were axes swinging across the room, and they looked pretty real. Louise was absolutely terrified. Zoe clung onto her for dear life while Liam and Nyla went forward. They both got past the first axe, then the second, and at the third Nyla almost fell back, but Liam caught her, and Zoe breathed a sigh of relief.

After getting through them, Liam and Nyla waited until Louise and Zoe moved forward.

Zoe mainly did all the work, pushing Louise past the axes when it was clear to, and Louise just screamed.

Liam, Zoe and Nyla went around the corner, and Louise was just about to turn when someone came out with a hideous mask and claws as hands.

Having no time to think, Louise punched the man in the face, causing him to fall backwards and slam against the wall.

“Whoa, I didn’t think you’d be brave enough to punch the dude,” Liam said, appalled by how hard Louise had hit Hideous Mask Guy. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Louise narrowed her eyes at him.

“He means, you weren’t supposed to punch me,” Hideous Mask Guy said, taking off his mask. “Liam thought girls were weak and would get scared at literally anything.”

“Wow, sexist much?” Nyla threw a disgusted look at Liam.

He just shook his head and looked down.

“I took self defense classes when I was younger,” Louise retorted. “I may be scared of the tiniest things, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick your butt when I need to.”

“Look, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be all fun and games. I hired Hayden,” Liam pointed to Hideous Mask Guy, “to do this with me.”

“What else was supposed to happen?” Zoe asked, annoyed with this entire act.

“I was supposed to ‘disappear’ and come back as a ghost, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s just go back home.”

They started to leave, but then Hayden called out, “Hey, wait!”

“What?” Liam asked.

“I wanna learn some of those moves.” Hayden said.

“Not until you apologize for what you did,” Zoe insisted.

After some arguing as to why the boys had to apologize and finally receiving an apology, Louise smirked at Hayden.

“You sure you can handle it?”

“Yeah, I mean how hard could it be? We can practice here.” *** Hayden was pretty good at learning. He managed to get some scrapes and bruises, which seemed to disappear right away.

“Louise, can you stop showing off? We’re gonna be late to the movie!” Nyla complained.

“I actually wanted to show you guys something cool, if you don’t mind?” Hayden smiled.

“Sure, why not,” Louise said.

All five of them walked farther into the house, with Hayden leading the way. It started to get darker as they took each step.

Hayden seemed to get lighter.

“Dude, are you…are you glowing?” Liam said, his facial expression twisting into fear.

“Welcome to Casa de Hayden!” the boy turned around, his eyes glowing a bright red.

“What’s going on?” Nyla asked, stepping back.

“Well, I didn’t bring you here for nothing,” Hayden explained, and as he did, his teeth sharpened into points. “I’ve been waiting for fools like you to fall for my charm.”

“What charm?” Zoe snorted.

“I’ll let that comment slide,”

Hayden frowned. “Anyway, I’m gonna be feasting tonight.”

“What do you mean? You’re just gonna eat us?!” Liam asked.

Hayden just smiled. Then he lurched towards Zoe. Louise spotted a metal rod next to her and grabbed it without hesitating. Her instincts kicked in, and she advanced towards Hayden, pushing Zoe out of harm’s way and deflecting Hayden’s moves.

Hayden was fast and fierce, but his attacks were predictable.

Louise could sense every move he made. While Louise was fighting him off, Liam grabbed another metal rod and waited until Louise gave him a signal.

“Now!” she screamed, pushing Hayden off her with such great force that he fell onto his back.

Liam took hold of the rod with a strong grip and swung hard, hitting Hayden’s head and knocking him unconscious.

“Let’s go,” Liam told them, dropping the rod and running out the door with Louise right behind him.

“Liam, what kind of friends are you making?” Nyla exclaimed, breathing heavily.

“Whatever. I’m just glad we’re all alive,” Zoe panted. After they all regained their breathing, Liam said, “I definitely underestimated you, Louise. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. At least it’s over.

We never speak of this, right?”

“No one’ll believe us, anyway,” Nyla said, shaking her head. “What we experienced back there…”

“She’s right,” Zoe sighed.

“So… anyone still up for the movie?” Liam asked.

“I think we’ve had enough for tonight. I just wanna go home and sleep,” Louise responded.

On the walk home, they all praised Louise for her fighting, but she just shrugged it off.

“I mean, Liam actually managed to knock him out so…”

Louise pointed out.

“But you did all the work! It was so epic.”

“Respect,” Nyla said, and Zoe nodded her head.

Eventually, when they all went home and their parents asked how the haunted house went, their only reply was, “Terrifying.”

Fin.

Caspian’s Corner For months, predisposed Drowning in applications And now am returned.

action, uneven pacing, and an anti-climactic climax. Even the strong acting of the two protagonists, played by Shailene Woodley and Theo James of Fault in our Stars fame, could not save the film from feeling as empty as the wasteland surrounding its post-apocalyptic Chicago.

City of Ember, 2008 In this edition of Hollywood’s “capture the young adults” That’s right. Someone trumpeted the glorious Narnian horn, and I am here to resume my duties as the colorful and charis- strategy, teens struggle to survive a post-apocalyptic fut—yes, matic cinematic commentator of Caspian’s Corner, the capital I know you’ve seen this script before. However, unlike Divergent, which feels like the book’s synopsis put to music, Emcolumn. Commence the caroling! ber is visually stunning while still true to the book’s imagery.

While its visual effects alone merit a watch, Bill Murray (yes, Divergent, 2014 Unless you call the underside of a boulder your home, you that Bill Murray) adds humor simply by his presence to an might have noticed that young adult novel adaptations are all adaptation that both captures the essence of the book and is more than watchable for the uninitiated. Unfortunately, the the rage in Hollywood (or, at least, would be if Marvel and film frequently feels intended for too young an audience, as DC Comics didn’t exist). However, like the aforementioned superhero movies, we may finally be reaching YA movie ca- when the protagonists slowly and laboriously explain each pacity, box-office data aside. Divergent, both in book and in plot point. Nevertheless, a venture into the City of Ember refilm, seems like a less violent take on the Hunger Games se- calls the unique joy of an adventurous child, a welcome change in a world of gritty teenage dystopia films. ries. Unfortunately, on the big screen, this translates to less

“Across the Bay,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm

13

Winged Victory of Samothrace

By Janus Her wings stretch and flex Barnacled with age Wide-eyed fish making a home Out of her marble feathers Her stone gown ripples with the current Dirt catching in crevasses Her outstretching arms Broken and gone Her head is lost, buried under mire Stone eyes closed at last Under the waves Victory lives on

Sky on Fire

By Zenyatta The sky burns brightly, all aflame.

The sun may rise or it may set, But in the end it is all the same: The fire's as bright as it will get.

The burning coals resemble shadowsBoth growing longer and receding.

Below the sky are fields of cattle Who all ignore the sun's proceedings.

But nonetheless the sky's afire The flames burn long and never tire.

Fallen Angel

By Calypso I am not the first, nor shall I be the last Flying so high, wings straining, Wind biting at my skin As I reach towards the sun Yearning for its golden light To envelope me in warmth Until my soul is aflame And nothing can hurt me We are all racing towards the light But none will ever make it We all drop, one by one, Falling back to earth, not as stars But as stone Our skin shatters Our wings break beyond repair We lie in craters of our own creation Left only with the charred remnants Of what could have been greatness 14

“Be Not Afraid,” Photograph by Janus

La Bataille

By Bandersnatch

The Battle

By Bandersnatch

il aiguise ses paroles comme une épée

he sharpens his words like a sword

elle ferme les yeux pour se protéger

she closes her eyes to protect herself

ses phrases comme des poignards ses questions comme des couteaux

his sentences like daggers his questions like knives

elle ne peut pas comprendre elle ne sait pas lui répondre

she can’t understand she doesn’t know how to respond to him

il attend un réponse un petit peu de violence

he waits for a response a little bit of violence

elle met sa serviette sur la table c’est blanc, comme un drapeau.

she puts her napkin on the table it’s white, like a flag

Carnival Tail: Four

By Calypso I never realized people could be so loud. Music—or at least what passed for it in the human world— blared outside the tent, and other tunes from farther away mixed with it, grating against my ears.

Rust was already beginning to form on my bracelets, but I didn’t mind. If anything, it dulled the burning sensation. I was sure that if I were to remove them, I’d find my skin raw underneath. I’d tried picking at the clasps, but, of course, iron. My fingertips were already swollen with blisters, so any further attempts at escape would be nigh impossible.

A rustle came from the tent entrance, and I looked up to see two young faces peeping in. Their eyes fixated on me, and I snarled, baring my teeth. One, older and apparently male, drew back, but his friend, a child with longer hair and a softer chin—probably female, but I’m quite terrible at discerning the difference in human children—yanked him back towards me.

“Come on,” she whispered, pulling him farther into the tent. They approached me, their eyes wide with curiosity. Stopping a safe distance of five feet away, the girl asked, “Are you really a mermaid?”

I gave her a look, crossing my arms and straightening my back as I shifted into an upright position.

Towering over her, I continued my gaze, but she didn’t falter.

“Father said mermaids are beautiful, but you’re blue,” the girl continued.

“Shh, don’t insult her!” the boy hissed, and the girl turned to him.

“What? It can’t hurt us. It might not even understand us.” She turned back to me. “Well? Can you?”

I wished I could muster the words in her tongue to communicate my frustration, but the words I required were too difficult to string together.

“See? Mother was right. They’re just animals. Beasts,” the girl said with a satisfactory smile. The boy glanced at me, his eyes still wide with fear, and I waved my fingers at him, offering an almost human smile. He shuddered, and the girl groaned. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t even know what’s happening.”

Insolent little human brat. I knocked on the glass of the tank, and the two jumped, turning back to me. I beckoned them closer, and the girl started forward, but her brother pulled her back.

“What? It’s in a tank. It can’t get us.” She shook his arm off. “Fine, go tell Jamie that you were too scared of a fish.”

“Wait, I—” “Come on,” she insisted. “Either come or don’t. I don’t care.”

“Fine,” he said miserably, shoulders sagging and eyes squinting in fear. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he took a shaky step forward, face even paler than when he’d entered.

They walked until they were inches from the tank, and I swam down to be at eye-level with them. I met each pair of eyes. The girl’s stared back at me evenly, but the boy’s flicked away, unable to hold my gaze. Poor boy. He didn’t deserve what I was about to do.

“I…” I began, lowering my voice to be as guttural as I could make it.

The girl’s smug smile faltered, and the boy was trembling. “Will…”

“We should go,” the boy said, grabbing the girl’s arm. For once, she didn’t shake him off.

I opened my mouth to continue, but a shock hit my body, seemingly from everywhere at once. My wrists burned anew, and I screamed, clawing at my skin before my muscles convulsed and I heard the ringmaster say, “Now, now, children, you mustn’t sneak peeks at attractions before they’re open to the public.

The paying public. Where are your tickets?”

A stain was beginning to spread on the boy’s trousers as the girl produced two pieces of paper. The ringmaster plucked them from her hand, holding them up to the light and making a show of inspecting them before handing them back with a wide smile. “Well, then, it looks like you should be enjoying the spectacles you paid to see. If you’d like to see more of this, you’ll have to come back with the proper tickets for the show tonight. Do you understand?”

The children nodded, their heads moving up and down at a faster pace than what seemed to be normal, and the ringmaster ushered them off. Once they fled, he turned to me.

“So you can talk. And here I thought you really were that stupid.”

He began circling my tank as I clutched myself, feeling occasional muscle spasms every few seconds.

“I was told that the shock wouldn’t affect you like it would a human.

Good thing they were right. The spasms should stop, eventually.”

I glared at him, and he clucked his tongue. “Back to silence, I see.

What exactly were you going to tell

those poor children? Those poor, innocent children. The girl had it right, of course. You’re nothing but a beast. A stupid beast who will sing on command. The boy…well, hopefully he’ll learn. You’ll see, Opaline. The world’s filled with monsters. And it’s our job—man’s job— to make sure they are kept under control. The sooner man can come to realize that, the sooner the world can be rid of your filth.”

I bit my tongue, but words still spewed out. “You would condemn us as filth, and yet what do we do to deserve it? We hide from your kind because you hold nature and its magic with nothing but contempt!

You see yourselves as the masters of this world, and we have not the means nor the desire to take your position—a position that should not, by the laws of nature, exist. What threat do we pose to you? Nothing except the one you’ve created yourselves!” I was nearly shouting, but the ringmaster only laughed. I fell silent, and he continued, his face turning red as sound stopped coming from his lips. He threw his head back, seeming to be roaring from laughter sans the sound itself.

Finally, he calmed himself enough to wipe the tear of merriment from his cheek and say, “Opaline, I thought you’d never crack. That was almost as good as hearing you sing.

I’ve not the slightest notion of what you just said, but does it matter?”

Another bark of laughter erupted from his throat, and my cheeks warmed as I stood tall, my insides turning over and twisting for my failure. “Oh, if only the centaurs could see you, now. If only all of those wretched creatures could see you, blue in the face—pardon the expression—from screaming. The strong one, the one who resists me, resists her chains…If only they could see you screaming. You’ve lost, Opaline. I’m sure your kind has a song for that. Sing it tonight.”

He turned on his heel and left. I floated in place for several minutes until I was sure he was gone. Then I roared, growling as I pounded and clawed at the glass, unable to shake the fury from my bones. Panting, I clutched my hair, but I only felt the pearls under my fingertips. I tore at them, but they pulled my hair with them, and I quickly gave up that effort. Falling silent, I crossed my arms and leaning against the rock, the desire to rip a human to shreds and eat every last bite still coursing through my veins. I had the perfect human in mind, too.

Two men came in shortly thereaf-

ter to cover the tank with a tarp. I glared at them, but they paid me no heed and quickly subjected me to utter darkness. Neither said a word, and I soon heard their footsteps leaving. I debated feigning sleep for when they unveiled me, but I remembered the electricity coursing through me and abandoned the plan.

It wasn’t long before humans started pouring in. Their feet created a dull beat against the metal contraptions—the ringmaster had called the “stands”—and their voices jumbled together to form an incomprehensible mess that could hardly be called melodic. It seemed to take them a ridiculous amount of time to get in their proper positions, but once the noise from their moving feet receded, the ringmaster’s amplified and echoing voice announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the show of a lifetime, full of magic and feats unknown to man! Other carnivals will boast, circuses will brag, but never before has such a collection of creatures been gathered. Tonight, what you will witness will not only be fascinating and beautiful, but it will make history. So without further ado, let the show begin!”

Horns blared, and I resisted the urge to cover my ears. The tank began to tremble as the centaurs filed in, their hooves thundering against the packed down dirt. They let out practiced whinnies and neighs as the audience oo-ed and ah -ed over their performance. More than once, a centaur came too close to the tank, one of their hooves stepping on the tarp and pulling it ever so slightly to one side. After three of these incidents, a sliver of golden light appeared before me, and I swam to the bottom of the tank, peeking out as a set of grey legs galloped by.

I saw the centaurs galloping in intertwining circles, tossing hoops and flaming torches to one another to the audience’s delight. A hurdle sat several feet away from my tank, and each centaur took a turn jumping it, catching a torch at the crest of his or her jump. After several minutes, once the applause reached its height and was beginning to dim, the centaurs slowed and formed a circle around my tank, their rears facing me as they bowed to the audience and filed out at an orderly trot.

Continued on Next Page

CT cont.

“Ah, isn’t it amazing!” the ringmaster exclaimed in his amplified voice that seemed to come from above. I looked around as he bragged about the centaurs, and I caught glimpses of eager human faces. They were all entranced by the show, their food forgotten and of little importance to them now that they had their entertainment. Torches lit the tent, one on each pole that kept the tent upright, although there was another light source from above. As the ringmaster continued to talk—I was fairly certain at that point that he was simply fond of hearing his own voice booming throughout the tent—two men removed the hurdle and replaced it with a flaming hoop. Before I could discern much more, a fearsome roar echoed from behind me, vibrating the glass. Two hisses and a goat’s bleat accompanied the roar, and I shivered. Chimera. They preyed on non-magical animals, but a drop of their poison in a pond could kill family of merfolk. I’d heard rumors that they spoke our tongue, but I’d never had a conversation with one, and I had no particular desire to get close enough to one to have such a dialogue.

The audience erupted in applause once more, and the chimera was led in front of my tank. Its paws had patches of fur instead of its usual silky coat, and when I strained my eyes upward, I saw the outline of a muzzle in raw red skin on each of its maws. It snarled at the man holding a whip, but the man cracked the whip, landing a blow on the chimera’s flank. It began to run, and I winced as it ducked its goat head to avoid the flames.

The crowd held its breath as the chimera landed, but then it burst into applause and cheers once more.

The chimera circled around, but when it went for a second lap, it leapt over the hoop completely, snarling as the flames licked its hind legs. I winced, but the chimera continued after the man cracked his whip again.

Once the chimera was done and had been led away, the ringmaster’s voice returned, even more enthusiastic than before.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, a real treat!” A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt gooseflesh rising on my skin. “From the lands of the east, there have been rumors of this magnificent beast. But never has one been seen before in the west.

They say it has the power to heal, even to restore youth. I present to

you, the unicorn!”

I breathed a sigh of relief but frowned. There was no such thing as a unicorn, at least not one that any western human would recognize. They’d taken eastern tales and twisted them to their liking, but that didn’t usher into being a new creation.

Hoof beats neared me, and I caught a glimpse of a glowing white mane and a spiraled horn protruding from a pure white horse’s forehead.

I resisted a chuckle. The poor horse’s coat had been rubbed with some special oil or salve to make it shine in the light, and the horn had been expertly applied, but it was just a horse. I could feel no magic emanating from its core, and its eyes were dull, lacking the spark of a true magical creature.

Still, the humans wanted it to be so, and their applause was so great that it almost seemed as though they could wish it into existence. The unicorn did several laps for them before rising on its hind legs and neighing.

The show continued, featuring various creatures in quick snippets.

Satyrs played instruments and danced with nymphs, circling round and round as their music grew louder and livelier. The humans clapped and stamped their feet along with the dancers, and I couldn’t resist tapping my finger against the bottom of the tank in the rhythm. Their dance must’ve seemed wild to the humans’ eyes, but I could see their restraint, their unhappiness. Each move was stunted, each smile forced as they moved methodically through choreographed steps. My heart hurt as I watched them repeat a chorus of a dance with pained smiles on their faces.

The fairies’ performance was hardly better. They flew in preplanned patterns, unnatural in every sense of the word. Their usual attire—robes of spider silk and dresses of grass and flower petals—had been replaced with cloth dresses that dragged them down, and their crowns of leaves were missing. Instead, they were adorned with tiny bracelets and anklets of iron. When they finished their routine, they zipped back into their cages and were carried away, tiny bell sounds of defeat barely audible above the crowd’s cheering.

“And now, for our final event of the evening. What you’ve all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen, this gorgeous creature is known for its elusiveness, but nothing can hide forever. Their beauty is unmatched, and their songs hold mystery and

knowledge that the human world has never experienced. But, as a treat to you, you will be the first to hear it. I present to you, Opaline, queen of the seas!”

The tarp was yanked off, and I squinted and straightened as light flooded into the tank. The crowd fell silent, every pair of eyes on me.

I turned and saw the ringmaster glancing behind me. A man stood in the shadows between the stands, and my eyes followed the black wires from him to my tank. Gritting my teeth, I heard the ringmaster say, “And now, she will perform for you a song of the sea!”

I stared at the crowd, finding only intrigue, fascination, and in some cases, disgust. Not a single pair of sympathetic eyes could be found.

Not even the boy from earlier. The humans there—ordinary people from the look of them, people who had nothing to gain from my cap-

ture—wanted a show. They wanted a spectacle. Remembering the satyrs and the fairies, the burnt patches on the chimera’s maws and on the centaurs’ ankles and now on my wrists, the white hot fury running through me when I’d shown weakness before the ringmaster, I decided to give them what they wanted.

I straightened myself again, this time with my shoulders back and my chest out, and I took a deep breath. The ringmaster grinned, and the crowd held its breath. I filled my lungs with air and readied my throat. I’d give them a spectacle.

I turned to the ringmaster, my eyes glinting as I grinned and opened my mouth.

Then I shrieked.

To Be Concluded...

“Come one, Come all,” Illustration by Hecate