March 2015

March 2015

Midnight Writers

Table of Contents Cover: “Run, Alice,” a mixed media by Raven “Empty Spaces,” a poem by Bellum 11: This Page: “Stairway to Nowhere,” photograph Page “What was Wonderland,” an illustration by Alice Fraser

by Bandersnatch

Page 3: Ask Aphro & Dite  

Wonderland has a new guest The Queen of Hearts seeks advice

Calypso’s Island: 

The Lady of the Underworld needs your help

Echo’s Echo 

On catching a leprechaun...or not

Page 4: “Tea for Two,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Madness,” a poem by The Teumessian Fox “The Real Monster,” a short story by Rabid Fairy “Too Far Gone,” a poem by The Teumessian Fox “Cheshire Grin,” an illustration by Rabid Fairy

Page 5: “Broken,” a graphic by Japanda3 “Wonderland Falling,” a poem by Calypso

Page 6:

“A New Visitor,” a poem by Calypso “A Familiar Face,” a poem by Calypso

Page 12: “I Sneak a Look,” a poem by Dawn “What are Eyes,” an illustration by Aries “Don’t Give Up Yet,” a poem by Aradia “Broken Hearts Club,” a poem by Corvus “The Storm of a Sea,” a poem by Rabid Fairy

Page 13: “The Story Behind ‘I’m Tired,’” a poem by Bravery “Long Night,” a photograph by Firebird “Midnight,” an illustration by Khokokat

Page 14: “Springing Forward,” a photograph by Dawn “Floras in Bloom,” a poem by Winter “Melted by Stabs,” a short story by Ramenkitty “Writer’s Block,” a poem by The Teumessian Fox “Undecided, Crumpled Faces,” an illustration by Hecate

Page 15:

“Carnival Tail: Chapter Six,” a story by Calypso “Dreams and Nightmares,” a poem by The Teumessian Fox “Long Live,” an illustration by Alice Fraser, Charybdis, and Pandora’s Box “Carnival Tail,” continued “Dreams are Quite Funny,” a poem by Apollo “Waiting in the Woods,” an illustration by Hecate “Where Things Make Sense,” a poem by Rabid Fairy “Happiness Awaits,” a poem by Bellum

Page 16:

Page 7: “Madness,” a poem by Zenyatta “Madness is a Tricky Thing,” a poem by Apollo “The Next Alice,” an illustration by Pandora’s Box and Charybdis “The Sad Tale of Alice,” a poem by Janus

Page 8: “Little Girl,” a poem by Bandersnatch “Fragments,” an illustration by Calliope “Falling,” a poem by Bellum “Falling Alice,” a poem by Iris Rainbow

Page 9: “Underland,” a poem by The Owlish Bookworm “The Jabberwock,” an illustration by Alice Fraser

Page 10: “The Silence in Spring,” a poem by Vivian Griselda “Half a Cup,” a photograph by The Owlish Bookworm “Queen of Hearts,” an illustration by Alice Fraser

Sra. Steele: No two liars are on the same page.

Persephone: Invisibility really isn’t Hera’s style.

Rhea: I saw a torn cloak made of that material in Zeus’ laundry.

issuu.com/midnightwriters midnightwriters2015@gmail.com

Ask Aphro & Dite

Dear Aphrodite, I'm afraid I'm quite lost. I was walking through a field when the ground beneath me disappeared, and I plummeted down for some time. There are all these strange talking animals, and I'm pretty sure some roses talked to me. What's going on, and how do I get out of here?

Yours, Lost Dearest Lost, Oh, darling! Don’t worry, love, I’ll walk you through it. Let’s see, that hole you fell down, well, it’s all closed up. Try not to think about that, though. Just enjoy the flowers. They do indeed sing! But beware—don’t insult them!

Stay away from words like “weed,” “sprout,” and “shrub.” They’re ever so finicky. The animals talking to you may or may not be trying to help you, given that—wait. What’s your name, darling? If it’s anything that sounds remotely like Alice or Alex, they’re either trying to save you or kill you. Pay that no mind—simply never talk to any of them, and you won’t lose your mind. You will lose your way, so the best plan of action is to always go right. As far as I know, the only way to get out is to, well, I actually don’t know. I’ll ask Zeus. But in the meantime, just enjoy the madness. Eat a few cakes and drink a few serums and try a few mushrooms.

Just remember your name and don’t go mad.

Best of luck, Aphro Dear Aphrodite, Darling, it's been far too long since we've had tea. You simply must come visit. Before you do, I need your advice. Several Wonderlanders have been protesting lately—something about a shortage of tea—and their numbers seem to be growing by the day. I'd chop off all their heads, but what's a queen if she has no subjects to rule?

Any help would be appreciated.

Yours, the Queen of Hearts My dear Queen, Oh, I feel your pain! Not a day goes by where I don’t wish I could deal with the mortals in one fell swoop, but in the end, they’re what makes life interesting for us, no? And we really do need to get together. I’ve heard about an absolutely insane fellow that I think would be perfect for you. Now, about this riot. About tea? Oof. Well, you simply mustn’t give in to their demands.

Queenie, just give them water until they appreciate the tea they’re getting! But don’t be too harsh on them, darling. They’ve lost their minds and some their heads, so tea is really the only thing they’ve got! Let me know how it goes!

Best of luck, Dite

Calypso’s Island

Oh dear. This is not good. Not in the slightest. Alright, deep breaths. In…and out...O.K., this isn’t really helping, so I’ll just cut to the chase.

As you know, I’ve been in charge of the Underworld while Hades and Persephone have been raising their little bundle of joy on Ogygia. Hades trusted me with all his duties and whatnot, and I’d like to make a point of it now that I’ve done a pretty decent job so far, minus the kidnapping last year. Anyway, Hades entrusted me with all of his valuables that he didn’t want to take with him to Ogygia. After all, they have their own special chambers with intricate locks and security systems here; all Ogygia has in ways of security is, well, whoever the current resident is.

Part of my job since I got here has been checking in on Hades’ items, and they’ve all been secure. Until last night.

I was doing my weekly rounds when I noticed that one of the palace windows looked strange from the outside. I checked the room inside only to find that the clasp on the window had been broken, and I immediately checked on the items. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place, but Hades’ Helm of Darkness was missing! I searched the room but didn’t find anything, so I ran back to the room where the window had been broken, and I found a scrap of sparkling navy cloth caught on the broken clasp. I asked around Olympus, but I wasn’t able to make heads or tails out of what I was told. Please, I need your help to find Hades’ helm. I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do if he finds out. It’s going to be a little tricky to find them considering that they can become invisible now, but I have faith in you. Here’s what I know so far:  Only three deities have cloaks made of that material: Hera, Artemis, and Zeus  Scraps of the cloth have been found on Mt. Olympus and in the Garden of the Hesperides  Who stole it? Where is it now? Clues are scattered throughout the magazine.  The answer must be submitted by the April meeting (c.

April 17).  Winners get a prize at the last meeting in May. Carpe Noctem.

Echo’s Echo

Hello, Midnight Writers! I’d been planning on interviewing a leprechaun, but I just couldn’t get ahold of one in time.

Sighing, I decided I would make St. Patrick’s Day cards so that I wouldn’t sit around and be unproductive. When it was time to color in the pot of gold, I reached for my gold Sharpie, but it wasn’t there.

Befuddled, I looked around my desk, but then I heard the tiniest little sneeze behind me. I turned around, and ha! A little leprechaun, no more than eight inches tall, was scurrying away with my Sharpie. With the weight in his hands, he was far slower than usual. I managed to catch and trap him with a plastic bowl. I kept my hands on the bowl to prevent him from escaping. He groaned and threw down my Sharpie in exasperation.

“Congratulations,” he sneered, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you going to do to me, huh? Show me off to all of your friends? Feed me to your cat?”

Such sass. I was about to just let him go, but a lightbulb went off in my head. I had just found an interviewee for this month!

“None of the above,” I responded.

“Instead, I would like to feature you in my column this month. Answer a few questions, and I’ll let you go.”

“No.” “Fine by me,” I shrugged. “While I don’t have a cat, I do know Cerberus…”

He gulped, his eyes wide with terror at the prospect of being mauled by a threeheaded canine with a voracious hunger.

“Alright,” he grumbled. “Get some pen and paper to take notes.”

Victory! I grinned and made the unfortunate mistake of releasing my grip on the bowl and turning around to get the pen and paper. When I turned back, he was gone. That sneaky little fool!

While I did get my Sharpie back, I lost the one chance to talk with a leprechaun. I started working on a leprechaun trap so that I can catch one of those little guys again. If you’ve ever caught one before, let me know because I’ll need the help!

See you later, Writers!

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

Eos: Hera did it.

Nyx: Artemis did it.

“Tea for Two,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm

Madness

The Real Monster

By The Teumessian Fox

By Rabid Fairy

Maybe

There are three doors. The first one is filled with darkness, an empty void.

There’s a small light at the other end. I don’t think I can make it, so I open a different door. My shadow is playing tennis with the village wolf. Blood trips from his teeth while my shadow sweats the salt from my skin. I need it back, and I already know who’s going to lose: the fox playing referee. I open the third door, and it looks like paradise. I don’t realize that the green grass is actually the greed of goblins and the waterfalls are the tears of giants. Basking in a false sun, I miss the post-game tea party next door. It’s easier to accept the art painted from others’ pain than face my own discomfort.

you’re a little crazy And sometimes you can be lazy Don’t put yourself down Never fret nor frown Everyone has their flaws So what, listen for your applause Since you are you, no matter what you do.

Too Far Gone

By The Teumessian Fox I’m locked inside this scary place Nothing but darkness, black, and space My hands always shake I need a little break I am going mad All alone, I might add No one knows I am here I am trapped by my fears Alone in this cage, And stuck with my rage.

All alone All alone No one to phone Trapped in this Hell So far down I fell This place is my mind I have been left behind.

4

“Cheshire Grin,” Illustration by Rabid Fairy

Apollo: Zeus did it.

“Broken,” graphic by Japanda3

Wonderland Falling

And the final battle began

By Calypso

Still injured from the last attack I led the last of the Wonderlanders To their deaths

Every game has its loser I just never thought I’d be one of them Torn from power No, torn from the only Life I had ever known A mere girl Against fours suits of Cards I never stood a chance Wonderland rallied behind me I was their best hope Their strongest warrior Their finest weapon I was honored at the time We held the palace for years Siege after siege We refused to falter But the Cards were just as persistent And I had not the power To stand against their might Years after their first invasion After my parents’ assassinations They struck their final blow Wonderlanders fled to the palace As the Jabberwocks ran rampant Tearing up houses Crushing tea parties in their way Card guards chased the rebels Up the palace steps

The horde of Jabberwocks Moved on from petty destruction And tore at the walls of the palace Pushing stones, shattering glass Until it rained down upon us In a storm of blood Card guards flooded the foyer Infected every hall with their presence Deck upon deck hit us in waves And we had not the strength or numbers To break them They only pushed us down further Until we were at the heart of the castle The throne room Thirty of us remained And we knew There was nothing we could do Against the thirty-thousand cards Pounding against the doors And the dozens of Jabberwocks That were creating their own entrances As we looked at each other I made my decision Shedding my helmet I held it up And did my best To rub the debris and dirt and death From my face How funny time changes

In a nightmare It passes without your notice And I was no exception The eight-year-old child Who had seen the first Jabberwock Prowl the perimeter of the palace And the first Cards whispering Where they thought none would listen Was gone In her place stood a girl-queen Barely fifteen and ready accept her fate I walked to the throne With my head held high And took my rightful place As the doors burst open They took the first ten of us And chopped off their heads Letting them roll across the Black marble floors As blood pooled around them They took the second ten And transfigured them into animals Laughing at their own cruelty And my Wonderlanders’ bewilderment They took the last nine And transformed them into creatures Beasts from fairytales for their own Twisted amusement They took the last of us And set a crown upon my head and Chains around my mind And called me the Queen of Hearts 5

Dreams and Nightmares

By The Teumessian Fox A dreamer soared a thousand miles, But stopped with one little whisper.

Dream a wish and be greeted with smiles, But fear will lead you to a twister.

Dreams can show you the light, But nightmares leave you in the darkness.

Dreams are for you to write, So don’t get caught up in harshness.

Just look for the good, And turn away from the bad.

Get out of the woods, There is no need to be sad.

Because a dream is a wish your heart makes.

So look to the light, that’s all it takes.

Ladon: Artemis loves to visit. She was just here last week.

“Long Live,” Illustration by Alice Fraser, Charybdis, Pandora’s Box

By Apollo

But there are some ways To clearly recall those dreams “Write them down!” they say

Just set an alarm For twenty minutes prior To the normal time

Dreams are quite funny When you sit and think them through Considering them

But that does not work I tell them and I tell them But they don’t listen

That you awaken For you’ll be in that sweet spot In your dream’s climax

One second they’re there And the next one they are not As if poof! Away!

For what do I know?

I’m just any Joe Plumber I’m not an expert

You’ll remember things Lots of things, and everything For it will feel like

Never seen again Remembering takes some skill Which few seem to have

But nevertheless If you would like my secret I’ll give it to you

All that you’ve just seen Not just a dream but real life You experienced

Dreams Are Quite Funny

Where Things Make Sense

By Rabid Fairy In my dreams, nothing is illegal. Except running.

Cruelty and fear battle kindness and justice. I watch from the sidelines until I’m thrust into the middle of it. Sometimes it’s easy to play their games. Other times I leave.

Tonight I find the pen I lost two weeks ago while I save a burning building from a dastardly poodle.

My love three years lost runs naked through the streets, avoiding the dark ashes made from the souls of flowers that fall from the sky.

I fall asleep and darkness gives way to the warmth of my bed.

6

Happiness Awaits

By Bellum

I had a dream last night I was happy and beautiful I flew with the birds Shone with the sun Pattered like the rain Sparkled like the snow Life wasn’t a series of numb lonely encounters No fake smiles No empty lies No saying I’m O.K. when I’m not Happiness, it felt so close, so real Then I woke up into the nightmare that is real life Tonight I’ll visit happiness again Ares: Zeus has tons of hiding spots on Mt. Olympus.

Madness

By Zenyatta I feel the madness creep into meMirages, hallucinations.

My mind is caged in itself- not freeDark fills my imagination.

I feel black spiders crawl on me And see a snake about to strikeMy mind succumbs to misery, I cannot change what I dislike.

I smell the scent of burning woods And hear strange voices in my head.

They croon and whisper, as they should, But I would rather just be dead, Than still alive and understanding That I am going all insane.

Yet my mind goes, my saneness ending.

I hear the voices call my name.

Hera: If Calypso wants to point fingers, fine.

She probably did it.

Madness Is Tricky

Full of mystery Absolutely no control On our pending fate

By Apollo Madness is tricky Is it a thing, a concept?

An abstract idea?

Is it predestined?

Or something that’s within reach Of our human hands

Is it positive?

Something that brings joy to us?

Something full of life?

Is it negative?

Something that brings misfortune To the human race?

Does it lead to death?

Obstruction? A loss of soul?

A loss of our words?

Does it steal our mind?

Away from reality?

To a world, unknown?

For we control it Our future, the world’s future It’s all in our hands Control means power Which is a dangerous thing When you think it through For one small mistake Can open a newfound door Into sheer madness

The Sad Tale of Alice

By Janus Once a queen ruled the land Upon the ground she left her brand Blood and ash mixed with sand Nobody dared to take a stand Except for Alice.

My liege! The Queen’s soldiers cried A girl named Alice has arrived!

The queen laughed, filled with pride You fools, swing the gates wide Let in dear Alice!

Alice balked at her at the queen’s grin But the gates were closing, trapping her in Staying for croquet is not a sin!

She thought, slipping into the din Silly Alice!

Believing the queen was Alice’s fall She never escaped at all The queen smiled and hit her croquet ball Guess whose head now adorned her wall!

The head of poor Alice!

Echo: Hera’s always had a grudge against Calypso.

“The Next Alice,” Illustration by Pandora’s Box and Charybdis

7

Little Girl

By Bandersnatch just a little girl far away from home just a little girl scared and alone she tumbled down the rabbit hole of her young and twisted mind running and racing through tunnels and doors with no idea

what she would find

just a little girl far away from home just a little girl scared and alone

just a little girl far away from home just a little girl scared and alone

just a little girl scared and alone and then a game a contest of sorts against a rather peculiar queen

she came to rest at an odd little spot she thought she'd found a mad little party

a strange glowing grin guided her along wandering through woods she followed in its light

she wanted to win nay she had to and when she didn't released a bloodcurdling scream

a hatter a hare and a dormouse around a long table made up her company

which way to go she wondered more walking along through the dark dark night

just a little girl far away from home just a little girl scared and alone

just a little girl far away from home

Zeus: I haven’t left Olympus all week.

Hephaestus: Calypso’s not the most vigilant, but she’s not malicious.

Falling

By Bellum

I feel crazy I feel sad I feel angry I am mad Tears fall in the wounds They sting worse than salt They stab worse than a knife My hands shake I am not crazy I am not crazy But the more I tell myself that I am not The more I feel I am I am totally alone I’m falling deeper and deeper Falling Alice

By Iris Rainbow

Zeus: Why would I even want Hades’ silly little cap?

“Fragments,” Illustration by Calliope

Alice is falling But she doesn’t know how Trapped in a never-ending hole.

She can’t find a way out Shouting for help Scared to death Won’t someone let her out?

Still afraid, scared, and confused She may never be free

Underland

By The Owlish Bookworm

Hades: Calypso lost my WHAT?

Welcome home, Alice.

Back to Wonderland.

Only you never knew, did you.

It’s really just Underland.

Underland.

Beneath.

Below.

Crushed.

Welcome back.

It’s not quite the way You remember it, is it?

Four white walls Instead of endless skies The cold, hard truth Instead of enchanting Lies.

You’ve gone mad, dear girl.

You’ve gone under.

Hestia: Calypso and Artemis are friends. If she needed something, she’d just ask.

Look at the flowers, How shriveled and weak Listen to the sounds— Listen to them weep.

It’s broken, Alice.

And so are you.

Do you remember the mushroom?

The sides that made you Shrink and grow?

Because memories are all that’s left— They’ve gone and died, you know.

What are you now?

Not the girl you used to be.

Hardly Alice.

Look at your Underland Your crumbling world Condolences dear, But don’t be a Stupid girl.

Grow up and see That you’ve gone mad Look around and you’ll know Wonderland’s gone bad.

“The Jabberwock,” Illustration by Alice Fraser

Look at the walls, Blinding, dizzying white Feel the jacket hug you tight.

You’ve gone under, Alice.

No time for that.

Late for important dates.

Like you.

So late.

The raven’s gone, The writing desk too.

Half a cup, my dear?

There’s nothing else to do.

Because it was all you.

You never came back, Never once to see.

Never once to know.

Never once to be.

It’s all…

Un-here.

Un-birthdayed Un-existed Very merry indeed.

Look at that flamingo limp, Watch as the hedgehog scurries by.

Look at the cards, An incomplete deck, Look, but goodness don’t cry.

Wonderland stopped being Wonderful.

Wonderland fell Under.

Underland is now Underful.

And now you’ve fallen.

Wonderful.

Welcome home, Alice.

9

The Silence in Spring

By Vivian Griselda Silence is nothing more than the boy playing pretend had said, Steering towards the road of a dissonant world.

I’ve stopped staring at the ceiling from the viewpoint of my bed, The disappointment and hope was wasted from being swirled.

Now we abide a farewell as we watch the snow decide to melt, So the April showers can bring May mysterious flowers.

Autumn could see that it was loneliness we no longer felt, And soon it’ll be summer and reconcilement will be ours.

Ticking and turning and telling and trying, Faith will stop following you once the day grows faint.

Smiling and staring and slipping and striding, Pick up the brush with an idea in mind for the canvas to paint.

Mistaken for authenticity and believed to be elastic, The actions of an empty person reveal that they’re nostalgic.

Displayed to be an addict and nothing more than cheap plastic, The words of a satisfied person demonstrate how well they can frolic.

Silence is nothing more than the truthful girl had said, Now this tranquility is dwelling forever in my head.

Hera: Zeus doesn’t have the finesse to be a thief.

“Half a Cup,” Photograph by The Owlish Bookworm

Empty Spaces

By Bellum

Numbness Sadness Alone Cold It is dark here In my mind The ceilings are high A lot can fit in here but nothing seems to stay No one seems to stay Am I not good enough?

Did I do something wrong My voice is an echo on the concrete walls The only sound in my mind is me I am completely and utterly alone I used to find comfort in being alone Now it haunts me Not even the ghosts of them remain Just me Images of me alone Abandoned Cold Injured Dead An image of the future Or of some past life?

“Queen of Hearts,” Illustration by Alice Fraser

Poseidon: Artemis went to the Underworld for New Years. She probably knows the palace well.

A New Visitor

By Calypso Down Down Down Down the rabbit hole Falling Faster Now What’s happening?

I’ve fallen so far already Where are the books And maps and cupboards That I was promised?

There’s no orange marmalade here Not even an empty jar. Just darkness Darker than the knave of spades Oh! That hurt quite a bit I was promised a softer landing Rabbit? Oh, Mr. Rabbit I’m ever so grateful to find a friend here But where are you going?

Stop! Don’t leave me!

This isn’t anything like what I was told I came for wonder but all I see are Animals screeching nonsense Potions boiling and hissing Flowers snarling, biting at my dress Teapots in scarlet stained shards

“What was Wonderland,” Illustration by Alice Fraser

A Familiar Face

By Calypso Falling, are we?

I remember Alice She could float.

Falling faster, I see Tsk, tsk What use are you?

You really don’t know what happened After Alice left We burned everything, dreamt it all away There’s nowhere left to hide Hatter riddles no more Mad March has abandoned his tea Caterpillar’s lost his hookah, and, well, You should see the queen.

This can’t be it I was promised so much better!

I want my Wonderland!

How very drab.

Is this the lot we’re attracting?

I was promised better company. Then again, The White Rabbit’s not so white anymore He’s not here to help you And you might be catching on At last.

A little creativity goes a long way Disappointed, are we?

Well, we can’t all get what we want.

Honestly, where’s your imagination?

In this world of madness But you must provide the spark.

Sorry, love But if you’re going to act like this Wonderland doesn’t want you.

11

I Sneak a Look

By Dawn You’re taking too long I look away quickly.

I hope no one saw me looking.

I glance around.

I don’t think anyone saw me.

I look away.

Why don’t I just take another peek?

My head tilts back the same direction.

How fascinating...

My heart gives a sudden pound.

Why is my stomach fluttering?

I look away, cheeks flushed.

This is so embarrassing.

I don’t look again.

I won’t look again.

My eyes wander.

I really want to look.

My eyes tell me to peek.

Why not another glance?

My eyes find...eyes.

Another pair of eyes.

Cheeks flush again.

Eyes look away again.

I am so embarrassed again.

I want to look again, Since he looks like a dream again.

“What are Eyes,” Illustration by Aries

Don't Give Up Yet

By Aradia

Our lives are musical notes made of glass To dangle high until we pass What love be wrought by your own fate Be none if you be isolate Your music sings its own tune Through all the hopes and dreams and boons The ivories too little to play your grandeur Your motives be kind and weighted on pure The drums too gentle to flash your power Nay foe be lived that you don't devour The brass too soft to sing your space To transfer you to another place The flute too harsh to note your time Or play your life through reason and rhyme The strings too fragmented to live your growth No bow can justice your day, it quoth For this I say lest you not see And all the things you mean to me

Broken Hearts Club

The Storm of a Sea

By Corvus

By Rabid Fairy

There are more productive things Than having a broken heart Writing a novel, singing a song Beginning again from the start But the heart has strong desires That aren’t easy to ignore They bubble up within you They rise up from your core It’s so easy being jaded When time and time again You reach out towards another To find a broken end The wall grows large and looming Your heart shrinks in its shadow You wanted love, not passing friends You hope that you’re not shallow Perhaps you will find love some day But today is not that day For now you must pack up your heart And carry on your way

You say I must have thick skin Crocodile scales that protect me from the abrasion of their toxic bite But my skin is actually water and their words are the runoff Sliding off my shoulders is a waterfall of the things I try to ignore And the erosion in my shoes is the pile up Every day I trudge through the mud they’ve left The fish in my veins are hooked by their lies Gutted by the knives of their insults And when they are thrown back in the sea of my flesh My veins have turned to ice And the fish have forgotten how to trust A whirlpool laced with the fangs of bloodthirsty sharks protects my heart I don’t mourn the death of those caught in snares My body is an ocean during a wicked thunderstorm Waves crash against my tongue and swallow the souls of the damned Sailors fear the strength of my sea They seem to forget that there’s always calm before a storm

The Story Behind “I’m Tired”

By Bravery it’s crazy so insane i’m tired exhausted no energy to do anything but complain about tests grades school homework because it’s my life isn’t it?

Get an A Get an A i chant over and over can’t skip school can’t fail a test need to be tidy and organized but my thoughts

“Long Night,” Photograph by Firebird

are scrambled and i can’t remember the last time i actually slept longer than four hours Ladon: Hera? I can’t remember the last time I saw her.

“Midnight,” Illustration by Khokokat

Mom, Dad, look, i’m studying don’t you see? isn’t it what you wanted? for me to do well, yes? my homework is swallowing me whole but it’s okay as long as i do well it’s so funny because i can’t tell the difference between 10 pm and 2 am anymore i drink four, five cups of coffee a day to stay awake in class, but look! look at my report card, i’m getting good grades! aren’t you proud? i’m losing my mind, i mean sleep… but it’s okay, right? as long as I get into a good college and get a couple scholarships, it’s all you’ve ever wanted right? i want to make you so proud; so so proud. i’ve been studying for so long, i’ll just take a nap…

13

Flora in Bloom

By Winter Singing the song of rebirth, Bringing surprises beneath the earth, Vibrant silk so soft and sweet, An array of shimmering sunlight, Petals glistening ever so bright, An evergreen dress of leaves, No longer locked in the bitter cold, Truly a sight to behold, Woken by whispers the winds bring, At last they reveal spring.

“Springing Forward,” Photograph by Dawn

Melted by Stabs

By Ramenkitty The sensation of shattered blue icicles impale my heart, again your heartless words strike, but no matter how many seasons pass, the memory of summer stays just as strong. The cruel winter bares its chilling fangs at my chest.

What do I do? Skip towards you, lying slightly, yet slightly admitting the truth? But then we end up at the beginning where we started; a fiery battle with no winner, yet even the unkindest phrases warms my heart to no extent. I have gratitude for that slight blaze you set upon in my icy chest.

The cruel winter once again pierces the soul that can’t sing, but chants of another person that the snowy air whispers again. Yet my frozen chest grows warm of your icy words, heated enough for a change in the seasons to blossom. Keep battering my heart, throw all your fiery fury, I’m soon to melt this winter and create a spring season where the wind won’t bare its cruelty.

Beat my heart to no end, your frozen words freeze me and melt me with passion, but soon I’ll melt and return your fire just as strongly.

Chronos: Hera’s a lot of things, but she’s not a thief.

14

“Undecided, Crumpled Faces,” Illustration by Hecate

Writer’s Block

By The Teumessian Fox The ideas usually flow So many thoughts to-and-fro But not today My brain left me astray So many writings to do But all in my mind is poo Stuck with this stupid writer’s block And on goes the ticking clock Right brain Left brain Not in sync WHY DOESN’T MY MIND JUST THINK

Carnival Tail: Six

By Calypso “Move,” Cispen hissed as my eyes flew open to see his face inches from mine. His palm hot on my shoulder, he shook me again before offering his hand.

Hauling me to his feet, he looked around, sniffing the air and taking a few nervous steps forward and back.

“Ready?” the other centaur asked, standing up and placing his hands on my waist. I grimaced but nodded, and he lifted me up so that I could clamber onto Cispen’s back.

I’d barely grabbed his shoulders when he took off at a full gallop, and I wrapped my arms around his chest in desperation to avoid falling off. A whip cracked behind us, and mens’ voices and horses’ whinnies followed us as Cispen and the other centaur picked their way through the forest underbrush. Few moonbeams made it through the canopy of leaves above us, and the forest had gone silent in the presence of men.

Daring to raise my head from its tucked-in position, I glanced around. Cispen and the other centaur were signaling to each other, their hooves moving almost independently from their upper bodies. When Cispen motioned with his right hand, they both bore right, breaking through a wall of trees into a small glen not unlike the one we’d been in before. Through the trees, however, I noticed several small glowing lanterns, and my stomach plummeted.

My throat going dry, I tapped Cispen’s shoulder, but he just nodded and motioned for me to stay silent. Pursing my lips, I leaned in and whispered in his equine ears, “They’ll find us if we don’t keep moving. Even if they don’t, the humans who live there surely will.”

He shook his head, though this time his tail flicked in annoyance, some of the hairs slapping my legs. His broad, flat features were still as he stared at seem-

ingly nothing, his ears moving in response to sounds I could no longer hear with my human ears.

Honestly, how did they survive this long with such limited capabilities? Weak ears, dull teeth, poor eyes—the longer I thought about it, the more insulted I became that I had been captured by them.

Hoof beats snapped me back to attention. I closed my eyes, stilling myself and shutting out my other senses to focus on the hoof beats. I counted three horses and three men, the latter of whom were easy to count as they refused to stop shouting at each other. They grew louder, and the men’s words permeated the air of the glen.

“Where’d they go? They can’t of just disappeared,” a familiar voice yelled. My fingernails dug into Cispen’s skin as I realized who it was. The harpoon man.

My back went stiff, and strange beads of moisture appeared on my brow.

“We have to find something to bring back. The ringmaster’ll have our heads if we don’t!” another cried, and my nails dug deeper as the hoof beats slowed.

Cispen’s warm hands covered mine, removing them from his chest. Cool air chilled the liquid on my fingertips, and I inhaled sharply when I realized that I’d broken through his skin. He shook his head before I could say anything, his muscles tightening beneath me as he prepared to run.

The men’s voices were on the other side of the tree wall surrounding the glen. The moonlight cast their shadows through the gaps between the leaves, and I found myself paralyzed every time they paused.

“I swear I saw something,” a nasally voice said.

“Don’t be daft,” the harpoon man snapped. I grabbed Cispen’s shoulders as one of the horses walked past a sliver between the trees. It paused for a moment, its large brown eyes meeting Cispens’. Cispen shook his head, and the horse nickered softly before continuing on.

“What do you three think you’re doing?” an aged man’s croaked from behind us, nearly making me fall off Cispen’s back in surprise.

We turned to see a sturdy man with wrinkled features and wispy white hair walking towards the clearing with a lopsided gait. He carried a carved walking stick and a lantern, and his eyes squinted into the darkness at us.

“Sir.” The harpoon man’s horse trotted out of the woods to meet the older man. “We’re searching for runaways. We work at—” “The carnival that’s in town.

Yes, yes, I’ve seen you and your men about. But what are you doing on my land?”

“We thought we heard—” “I don’t care what you heard.

You woke my granddaughter with your yelling,” the man snapped, glaring up at the harpoon man.

“Our apologies, but—” “Come back when the sun rises.”

“Sir, we’re searching for lost property. Very valuable lost property. Surely you understand—” “What I understand is that you’ve woken my granddaughter, who woke me, and now I have to stand out here even longer because three bone-heads can’t understand me. So I’ll put it in simpler terms. Get off my land!”

“Sir—” “If you don’t get out now, I’ll call the sheriff.”

The harpoon man glanced at his companions and back at the old man, who refused to break eye contact with them. Finally, the harpoon man nodded, pulling the reins on his horse and turning it so that its flank faced the old man.

“Very well,” he said, flicking the reins. “Expect us back at dawn.”

The three men and their horses left. Once the hoof beats faded off into the distance, the old man called, “Now, what do you three think you’re doing?”

Cispen and the other centaur

glanced at each other, frowning.

Mouthing words to each other and motioning with their hands, they seemed to argue about whether they should respond.

“I can see you, if that’s what you’re arguing ‘bout,” the man said, approaching us. “Elven magic never did work on me.

Never understood why, but I won’t hurt you.”

“Magic?” I asked Cispen in a lowered voice.

“Enchanted glen. Centaur safe house, of a sorts,” he murmured as the man entered the clearing.

“Keeps humans out.”

The other centaur backed away, but Cispen shook his head before approaching the man.

“Who are you?” Cispen demanded, elven-tongue still hanging heavily on each syllable.

“A friend,” the man said, holding up his hands.

“What do you want?” the other centaur demanded. “Why would you help us?”

“I’ve seen enough elven folk captured and forced to perform by carnivals and circuses, all in the name of human entertainment. Can’t do much in the ways of stopping the carnivals from doing it, and I can’t exactly do jailbreaks with a lame leg, so I do what I can where I can.”

The other centaur narrowed his eyes, snorting and pawing the ground.

“I know you don’t want to believe me, but I don’t want you to be recaptured any more than you do,” he said.

“That still doesn’t explain your immunity to magic,” the other centaur countered.

“I’d explain it if I could, but I don’t know. My mum said there’s elven blood in the family, but I never believed it,” the man said with a shrug. “Now, how long have you been running?”

“Just tonight. There was an opportunity at the carnival to escape, and we took it,” Cispen said. “Others escaped as well.

Have they passed this way?”

Continued on Next Page

CT cont.

“No, I’m afraid they haven’t.

You can stay the night if you need rest. We have a barn. I can get you some food and blankets.”

“Not…inside…” I spoke up.

“Are you sure? If you’re in the barn, they won’t find you. It won’t be for long. Just until they come and leave again,” the man said. Seeing my hesitance, he offered, “Why don’t I bring you some blankets and food, and you can think on the barn?”

I nodded, and he smiled, his face wrinkling further. He handed the lantern to Cispen and shed his coat, handing it to me.

“You should cover up. The sight of you like this could draw more attention than the centaurs,” he said before he turned and started back up towards the farmhouse.

“Can we trust him?” I muttered once he was out of earshot.

His last words miffed me, but the cold wind convinced me that it was worth having some sort of covering.

“No, but we can take what he offers,” Cispen said, and the other centaur agreed.

I climbed off Cispen’s back, and he lay down, folding his legs as he set the lantern down. I wrapped the jacket around shoulders, sitting down against Cispen’s back and tucking in my knees. The other centaur remained standing, his ears just as straight as his back.

“We should go back,” Cispen said after a moment.

“What?” I asked, frowning and turning to look at him. “Why would we ever go back?”

“For Aurelia.”

“Cispen, she’ll be fine,” the other centaur said. “Aurelia’s smarter than any of us and just as strong. She probably escaped last night, too. We can’t risk going back.”

“And if she didn’t? I need to know.”

“We need to get as far away from here as quickly as possible.”

“What about the others?” I

asked, and the other centaur frowned.

“What others? We can’t go back and save all of them. Going back means getting captured or killed, and we can’t help anyone if we’re not alive.”

“Split up, then, if you really don’t want to join us,” Cispen said.

“You must be kidding. Cispen, we can’t—” “Shh! He’s coming back,” I hissed, and we fell silent as the man approached. He wore a different coat, and in the place of a walking stick, he carried a square parcel.

“Greens for the centaurs and meat for the mermaid,” the old man said, setting a package wrapped in brown paper down before me. I frowned at him, and he said, “It’s the eyes, dear. No human has anything like them.”

“How do you know so much about our kind?” the other centaur asked, still refusing to sit.

He came behind the old man, creating something of a circle around him.

“Word gets passed around if you know where to listen,” the man said as Cispen opened the package, bringing it to his face and sniffing it. “I didn’t poison it if that’s what you think.”

“I never said you did,” Cispen said, handing me the meat. I took it and bit into it cautiously. The blood was refreshing on my tongue, and I tore off a bite. Cispen offered the other centaur some of the greens, but he declined.

“There’s more in the barn. Are you sure you don’t want to stay the rest of the night? It’s warm and safe.”

“We’re certain,” Cispen said.

“Thank you for your kindness, but I have greater faith in our own magic than any humans’ word.”

The man nodded and sighed, “That’s the thing with you elven creatures—always trusting your magic and your strength. Do you want to know how humans manage to capture you and keep you captive?”

The glen went silent, and my

stomach twisted. I lowered the meat, my hand reaching up to Cispen’s back to pull myself up.

“Oh no, don’t move,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a handheld crossbow.

“It’s because we don’t have what you do. So we have to invent things—weapons, tools—to level the playing field.”

He stood, backing up so that he had all three of us in view.

The other centaur started towards him, but the man shook his head, saying, “I wouldn’t if I were you. It reloads automatically, and each one is tipped with chimera blood. Ingenious what humans can come up with when they have to.”

“I’m guessing the granddaughter was a lie as well,” Cispen said, his eyes searching for anything that could be used as a weapon or a shield.

“I’d never lie about Suzy,” the old man said with another smile just like the one he had given when he’d offered us safety in his barn. “She’s always wanted a mermaid. She’s had centaurs before, but a mermaid will be a

treat.” “‘Had’?” Cispen asked, his hand wrapping around my arm as he kept steady eye contact with the old man.

“As pets, of course,” the old man said.

The other centaur charged at him, rearing up. The man shot him in the underbelly as Cispen yanked me onto his back. Another twang from the crossbow, and my back arched instinctively as a rush of air brushed my upper back. The other centaur brought his forelegs down on the man, falling on his flank as the chimera venom spread through his veins. Cispen was already galloping when the thud of the other centaur’s body reached our ears.

Wrapping my arms around Cispen’s chest, I leaned my head against his back.

“What was his name?” I asked, my voice hushed.

“Raiel,” Cispen said. “He was a friend.”

To Be Concluded...

Demeter: Artemis is a master huntress. She doesn’t need the Helm.

“Waiting in the Woods,” Illustration by Hecate