Pillars of Salt Spring 2019
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Editors Josie Gordon Kat Mackay Staff ZoĂŤ Appelbaum-Schwartz Livia Blum Audrey Choate Caroline Ediger Willa Frierson Maddie Fenster Rae Godfredson Madis Kennedy Astrid McQuaide Olivia Richards Ava Thompson Juliet Youssef Faculty Advisor Kathleen Bergen
Pillars of Salt Literary Magazine The Archer School for Girls Spring 2019-2020
Table of Contents Pink Flowers by Esha Sankhala ‘20........................................................ cover Spring Cleaning by Bess Frierson ‘22.................................................... 5 Bizzy by Zoey Cort ‘20............................................................................. 7 Of Swine and Beasts by Addison Lee ‘21.............................................. 8 Grass by Esha Sankhala ‘20..................................................................... 9 Fairy Nests by Esha Sankhala ‘20........................................................... 10 When I Walk by Hannah Kim ‘20.......................................................... 11 在地球梦想 by Abigale Lischak ‘20....................................................... 11 The Swim by Lena Jones ‘20.................................................................... 12 Silhoutte of a Girl by Quincy Gordon ‘22............................................. 14 God’s Hill by Willa Frierson ‘20............................................................. 16 Fountain of Joy by Chloe Eshel ‘20........................................................ 17 Don’t Waste Your Time by Sophie Pollack ‘20 and Lily Price ‘20...... 18 Flower Vase by Esha Sankhala ‘20.......................................................... 19 That Girl by Alizeh Davis-Jarrahy ‘20.................................................... 20 It’s (Not) That Deep by Kat McKay ‘20.................................................. 22 To the dandelion i blew on by Rae Godfredsen ‘19............................. 23 To the hot summer day that melted by Rae Godfredsen ‘19.............. 24 To the best friend i watched sink by Rae Godfredsen ‘19................... 25 Gum by Madis Kennedy ‘21.................................................................... 26 A Portrait of a Gecko by Zoey Cort ‘20................................................. 27 Excerpt from The Eyes by Josie Gordon ‘20......................................... 28 Double Exposure of an Elephant by Quincy Gordon ‘22................... 31 Great American Novel by Zoë Appelbaum-Schwartz ‘19................... 32 Human Nature: Luna by Audrey Choate ‘20........................................ 36 Human Nature: The Shadow Man by Audrey Choate ‘20................... 37
A Good Fry by Anna Brodsky ‘20 and Isabella Silvers ‘20.................. 38 In-N-Out by Anna Brodsky ‘20.............................................................. 39 Junioritis by Kat McKay ‘20.................................................................... 40 She Says My Name by Maddie Fenster ‘20............................................ 41 Two: Corner by Livia Blum ‘19............................................................... 42 Two: Other Things by Livia Blum ‘19.................................................... 43 Esophajuice by Madis Kennedy ‘21........................................................ 44 Dreams by Juliet Youssef ‘19................................................................... 44 and i ask by Sabrina Kim ‘22................................................................... 45 Defender by Zoey Cort ‘20...................................................................... 46 Ella by Zoey Cort ‘20............................................................................... 47 Elementary, My Dear by Lena Jones ‘20................................................ 48 Clouds by Quincy Gordon ‘22................................................................ 49 Dancers by Quincy Gordon ‘22.............................................................. 50 In Love in Ohio by The 2019-2020 Creative Writing Class................ 52
Spring Cleaning Bess Frierson ‘22
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Editors Note In writing this Editor’s Note, I was incredibly daunted. How do I introduce this magazine? The magazine that our class has spent months working on. How do I capture its essence? Well, after asking God (Margaret Atwood) for an answer, I’ve come to the conclusion that if you carve out a piece of creative writings’ soul you’d have this magazine. Each piece is so beautifully unique to the author. Every author or photographer featured in this magazine is extremely talented and I cannot even begin to explain how proud I am of our team. Grab some tissues – because this magazine is one wild emotional roller coaster. –Kat Mackay ‘20
Since ninth grade, I’ve eagerly looked forward to when the semesterly litmag would be added to the library, so I could look over it and see the amazing work that people from around Archer make. Last year, I took the creative writing class and I got to see how the behind the scenes of the litmag run. This year, I’m co-editor, and I get to feel the pride and excitement of putting this amazing litmag together. Everyone in the staff has worked tirelessly to choose which pieces should be accepted, and all the authors, photographers and artists whose work is included have worked so hard to create beautiful artwork that we are so proud to present to you now. –Josie Gordon ‘20
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Bizzy ZoeyPillars Cortof‘20 Salt 7
Of Swine and Beasts My bones shivered as something stepped into my domain, landing with a carelessness that only men could possess. Every breath I took was another hard crunch of dirt beneath their sandals as they forged scars in my land. One was different. His steps were faint and danced among the weeds with a taunting stealth. The lion beside me growled in response, shaking his mane out as I ran my hand through the golden tassels. All my beasts were agitated, restless as the men grew closer. The scrape of claw against stone shrieked through my hall as they paced. I slid back in my throne, the cool stone a comforting weight upon my back. Closing my eyes, I searched for their pulse in the soil. They were here. The golden gates glided open with but a sliver of noise as a breath from the Northwind devoured its words of warning. The scent of the night spilled upon my floor but with it came the sigh of the ocean. I clicked my nails in response to the scream of steel on stone. My beast’s growl rumbled through me as the soft padding of sandals grew louder. The scent of 8 Pillars of Salt
salt quickly overtaking me as the sound came to a halt. “My lady, I’m afraid I must ask you to return some of my men. For while they are indeed foul of mouth and body, they do not deserve to be beasts of such.” The voice was smooth, a strange, still ocean. My eyes slid open, and a wicked grin cut my face. The man was tall and stood as if he believed the world sighed upon his shoulders. I stood, tilted my head and whispered, my soft voice winding its way through the stone arches, “Ah, but strange man, you forget yourself. For you are not the one to decide whether or not your men shall become beasts, but rather if they shall become beasts for my collection or for my dinner table.” I closed my eyes and a shriek of steel greeted me. I snapped backward, a whip of air slicing my cheek. My eyes opened and I grinned at the sight before me. The strange man, a devilish smile upon his face and a sword in his right hand. A sword that happened to be a few inches from my
bare neck. bare neck. HeHe scowled andand as he moved scowled as he I looked him directly in to push thetosword intosword my skin moved push the intoI slid my the eye, stalking towards him and under up behind his skinhim, I slidpopping under him, popping dragged my swords through the back. a dash spun,Inthe steelhe bare- ground, letting the shrieks breathe up In behind hisheback. a dash ly missing me. Smirking, I leapedme. back sparks into the air, “A cruel joke spun, the steel barely missing from him and slammed my hands Smirking, I leaped back from him indeed, you must now know I tire against the wall. From which, I quickly of such men for--” and slammed my hands against spun two swords of gold. the wall. From which, I quickly I spun and slammed my spunHe stretching twostraightened, swords of gold. swords downwards, the man barely out his back he tilted his stretching head to Heasstraightened, reacting in time to stop my blow theout skyhis and said, “Oh Zeus, must it be back as he tilted his head to with his own steel. I leaned into the in your grand to make slay sword as I gritted my teeth, “--they the sky and design said, “Oh Zeus, me must thisit beautiful girl? I am out of practice be in your grand design to make are far too easy to beat and truly, yetme butslay to pit against girl? this helpless thisme beautiful I am make for poor beasts.” enchantress is even too cruel a joke for out of practice yet but to pit me For a second, we were held you. ” against this helpless enchantress is there, suspended in our steel and even At mya grin toothat cruel joke dropped for you.” to a fire. A woman and a man, a beast grimace. I flipped my swords in the air, and a sow, and a witch and a hero. At that my grin dropped catching them swiftly as they fell and His eyes met mine and through to a grimace. I flipped my swords looked kind to the Gods, “Oh Zeus, them, the gods winked back. in theinair, catching them swiftly must it be in your grand design as they fell and looked in kindtotoput such arrogant my it land?” theanGods, “Oh man Zeus,on must be in your grand design to put such an Addison Lee ‘21 arrogant man on my land?”
Grass Esha Sankhala ‘20
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Fairy Nests Esha Sankhala ‘20
When I Walk 我石硬石 想狮币龙 离保我刻 开花带屋 不园路檐 Stone dragons carve the roof. Coins show you the way. Tiger statues guard the flower garden. I never want to leave. Hannah Kim ‘20
在地球梦想 石狮保护园 生命花里面 声音的沉寂 自然合唱团 Lions protect the garden Life Blossoms Within The Sound of silence Is Natures Choir Abigale Lischak ‘20 Pillars of Salt 11
The Swim Here we stand Beneath storm clouds Fit to break Into ember-sized shards And wind Yanking out limbs From beneath Our sins Hanging off our backs like vines These sins They cover then stare at mine But sins That never seeped from my skin Yet bite my heels to shame my kick All the Earth knows of Hissing serpents Sent to kiss my achilles goodnight And nature still gifts mice to them while All gravity pulls me toward the tectonic discs Ever shifting, poised for the penultimate spark Of an aftershock They abandon ship When the storm clouds rupture and Spikes drizzle into my eyes like One speck is all it will take I watch my friends stroke through surf Like bonafide sea snakes Like gluttons savoring chocolate cake And they somehow twist to glare at me When waves steer them below the deck 12 Pillars of Salt
I swear to God I might be next–– A whiff of mustard seed over salt So toe in water, Down I go And now Now I know the storm Its ammunition’s nearly thinner Than the clouds Spewing barrages of false fire I know the swim is necessary
But I think I’ll take the boat right with me
Sometimes bathing feels like drowning
That’s what my mother always says I see sunspots with every heave The water stings so sweetly I think I tell myself the statement’s true–– But bodies hate honesty So I ache. One arm parts gnarled waves One hand clutches my nice boat And I know We’ll both emerge on a shore To a place where winds whisper everything will be okay And where storm clouds only ever break by daylight By some miracle So stare, stare, you waterlogged mutineers At a girl who breathes this water like air so fresh Swims like she swims for her life at its best
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In waters that hate her whole being just enough To hold her down and clamp her lips shut To run her through with one last speargun To roar above the whispers And the bathing And the water And the And the The
I think I I think I made it Lena Jones ‘20
Silhouette of a Girl Quincy Gordon ‘22 14 Pillars of Salt
God’s Hill I remember you told me you stopped going to youth group because there’s no proof that God exists. I told you that God has to be real because I met her in the shower. Maybe that’s why it’s easy to fall in love in the rain. My shower is as close to rain as I can get in LA. She hand sews pearls onto her veil and calls it Los Angeles. We call ourselves fools for wanting to be married so young. I try on a white dress with too much fabric that lets us imagine. At seventeen I am full of dreams1. I wear promises to myself on every finger. I imagine plucking the petals off
this dress until you can see my ankles and know that one day I will wear only one ring. At age six we moved away from New York and the rain became a blessing. I used to long for the rain; every time it visited I came back inside whispering to myself that it was the best day I’d ever had. I wanted to chase it all the way back to the East Coast where it came down warmer and the leaves listened louder. Dad can name every type of bird and tells me how to spot an oak tree by its leaves but he can’t ever tell me how much longer the rain will last. I stick my arm
through the branches that form a dark arch, to check if it’s a portal to a fairy land. We watch the rain tap on the roots like lightning about to burst. I promise so many versions of myself that I’ll move to the East coast when I get older. For now, I can shower when I miss the feeling of rain tucked behind my ear. The other night the rain was trying to swallow my roof whole. The rain sounds like how fireworks crackle on the surface of summer’s lake. I’ve never understood when people say rain sounds like the sky is crying. I’ve also never understood when people write as if there are multiple skies Pillars of Salt 15
or multiple heavens. Oh I’ve been to heaven too, that’s another reason I can tell you God exists. She had just landed next to me and I was in such a haze. My mind was a clear sky preoccupied with the word “oh”. I was in orbit. I asked perhaps and she laughed a laugh I didn’t know would be as hard or as beautiful as that 2. It was the sound of a bluebird who only tilts his head as you get closer. Who invents new types of flowers in its eyes but hasn’t shown them to a soul yet. A bluebird laugh that sent me—where do you go when you’re already in outer-space? Heaven. That’s where. Gods can be anywhere. I used to think it was stupid that the Ancient Greeks believed their Gods lived at the top of a very climbable mountain. Did no one 16 Pillars of Salt
scale Mount Olympus to check if there was anything up there other than wrung out trees? Ridiculous then, but now I think I get it. The hill behind my house hardly qualifies as a mountain but it gets me high enough to look down and see the canyon like a blanket crumpled around my feet. My hill used to be called Merrimac because that’s the name of the neighboring street. Merrimac the street is, in my heart, what it would be like if a river could run upwards. It sweeps me up to where I’m supposed to be. I never told her the hill was named Merrimac so she named it “God’s Hill” after a daydream that became a memory. Daydreams become memories sometimes, and that is her. You’ve met her is the thing, you just didn’t
hold her eyes for long enough. The day I took her up to God’s Hill I remember light poured into half of her left eye and it was beautiful 3. In some places her iris looked like a lake that had been kept sacred by the rocks around it and in others it looked like a honeycomb guarding the light. The corner where the sun came streaming in filled up the web with honey and I felt myself eased into something untouchable. If you doubt me still, I dare you to go outside right now, eat a flower whole, and tell me that you don’t worship the earth. 1 As the word honeymoon sounds on your tongue. 2 It was beautiful in the way that water is beautiful early in the morning. 3 This understanding of the word “beautiful” has more of a warmth to it.
Willa Frierson ‘20
Fountain of Joy Pillars of Salt 17 Chloe Eshel ‘20
Don’t Waste Your Time You keep telling yourself that you’re ugly. Every time you look in the mirror, you don’t like what you see. The stretch marks, the loose skin, the gap between your front teeth. You stare at them, and they stare back. Mocking you. You stab yourself repeatedly, destroying your self-esteem, constantly wondering how anyone could ever want you, When you, yourself, don’t even want you. How will you survive this? I wish I could make you understand that you’re perfect, just by being you, and I’d tell you that every single day, till you start to believe it. I wish you knew just how much I adore you. You’re brave, intelligent, gentle, and kind. You’re going to change the world someday with that incredible mind. Don’t waste precious time, hating yourself. How will you survive, if you keep going backward? Will, you ever learn that your flaws are a part of you. Without them, Who are you? How will you survive this? Social Media Trip Why be you when you can be me? Your hair is too curled, Your eyes are too small, Your waste is too large. 18 Pillars of Salt
Why be you when you can be me? I have long golden locks, Light skin, A pair of lips, red as rubies, A set of pearly whites, and A waste the size of your thigh. Aren’t I beautiful? Don’t you want to be like me? Don’t you want the world to know you? To crave you? Show the world a picture of your face, Your body, The response is unbelievable. They’ll tell you: “You’re perfect!” “I want your clothes!” “I love you!” Do you want them to love you? To worship you? To be you? They all want to be me. Why don’t you want to be me? Sophie Pollack ‘20 and Lily Price ‘20 Flower Vase Esha Sankhala ‘20
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That Girl Oh come on, you know her… Her name’s Jasmine Or Something like that You know, that girl with olive skin That falls asleep with acid and bleach on her face Because “a white complexion is powerful enough to hide seven faults,” Even in its translucency. You know, that East Asian girl. You know, that girl with the high cheekbones, the perfectly rounded flesh atop them, That girl with the deep rose, pouty lips, the shadowed eyes, the square jaw. You know, that Arab girl. You know, that girl with the big, gold jewelry That jingles and clinks when she moves, and When her heavy bracelets and rings scrape her perfectly groomed nails. You know, that far eastern girl You know, that girl with the big, curved nose That girl with the speed bump that’s so big it’s where cars go to die. You know, that Middle Eastern girl, she got a nose job yesterday You know, that girl that drenches herself in perfume That girl you pinch your nose around because her fragrance gives you a headache. You know, that eastern girl
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You know, that girl that wears that burqa thing, That oppressive, conservative head wrap thing That suicide-bomb, blow-herself-up, 9/11 thing, that terrorist thing. You know, that Muslim girl You know, that girl with the deepest eyebrows and longest eyelashes That girl with the dark, long, thick hair, maybe the girl with the slick, 0% frizz, loose curls that end just above her belly button. You know, that Persian Princess You know her. She’s probably been in your movies, your tv Or on your instagram explore page, in your youtube videos. You know her. But you don’t really, do you. You know her because she is what she’s supposed to be. But she’s not real, is she. Because she’s Perfection. Alizeh Davis-Jarrahy ‘20 Pillars of Salt 21
It’s (Not) That Deep Five fridays ago, i saw Four angels, sitting at the dining table.
Three of them were sipping strawberry milkshakes. all looked at me. Two drops of pink landed on the table. One lonely boy was stationed at the steel register. i miss the mango tree in your backyard. i remember a mango fell as you asked me to be your girlfriend. that word didn’t hold as much weight as it does now. a relationship means more once it’s over. (so i’ve decided.) crescent moons hang over us as days turn into months. dust coats the book you gave me. i don’t touch it because i fear memories that become real with just one hand. now the stand-in walks out of the bathroom, i like her less and less each day. 22 Pillars of Salt
Kat McKay ‘20
To the dandelion i blew on I think it was winter because I woke up too early on a Sunday morning, And felt the pastel melodies melt into their cage. You drove me to see the pale green leaves. Riding through pink as we chased the fallen blue where our laughter shot up in the air It eventually crashed like the pang we felt in our stomachs after we finished all 47 pieces of Halloween candy We stopped to find the cloudy dandelions. I had time to blow only one wish, Watching lonely seeds find a new home – Before the sky slammed into the sun and ashes fell like an infectious smile. I don’t think my gray wish reached you. they say heat rises, which is why it got stuck, Withering above the fog with the clouds that can’t escape and the spoiled air I spent on you.
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To the hot summer day that melted you and the right side of my brain. we were there for nine hours but it felt like the longest summer and we didn’t move at all like the nine unlucky bugs that are stuck on your windshield for perhaps eternity but i’m sure I felt light showers twisting my stomach and soft winds spinning my hair and the warmth pounding against my skin just enough to cause a head rush but the kind you get after you eat six packs of Nerds and three donuts or stuff your face with ice cream on a record hot day so that it doesn’t melt and ruin everything. the kind that tickles your head after your thoughts went dancing that kind. you were the wheel that turned my nine days into nine months and nine months into nine cozy galaxies and then we said goodbye that awkward nine seconds where we choked so hard on the ice cream and couldn’t speak we melted and ruined everything 24 Pillars ofsoSalt because all seasons end.
To the best friend i watched sink I woke up to the sound of the warmest rain. Right in the middle of Spring and new blossoms, we were suddenly pulled back into Fall. I watched you collapse and sink. You started rising to the top. A tint of orange gold against the sky. I carried you outside. It was the first time you saw the sun, and later the blanket of evening welcomed you My tears were carried into swirling air, met by the tender leaves of Fall and the rotten smell of romance past. I thought about you this August: The sporadic sounds of the splintered filter. The sweet and mushy yellow autopsy. Your stormy death, my little fish, George. Rae Godfredsen ‘19
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Gum Sometimes Cassidy did weird things with her feet while she walked. She’d slam her toes into the ground so that every step she took she felt a little less angry at the world. Then she’d reach curb, thirty-six shades of crumbling cranberry, and pause to feel her toenails sinking back into her skin. Cassidy found this method of getting from one place to another quite inefficient. So inefficient in fact, that on the days that she decided to travel like this, she usually missed her bus. Today was one of those days. She arrived 13 minutes after the bus had departed, so she sat on the burning strips of green metal that were the bus stop bench and wrote a list in sharpie on her thigh. It was titled “Things I’d Keep in my Wallet if I Had One”. A substantial stack of heavy-duty construction paper The things the trees whisper to each other on the days the sun doesn’t want to rise 3 small plastic pouches of snail mucus The smell of turtlenecks and tar one experiences while walking 26 Pillars of Salt
past the Cadillac store 118 tiny paper triangles The comma I tried to delete but was actually dirt on my screen A ripped-in-half receipt from U-Break-I-Fix, the number one fixer of inanimate objects North of Mulholland She stopped after number seven to investigate a particularly melty piece of gum stuck to the wall of the station. “I think that’s juicy fruit” said a voice behind her. Cassidy responded, still staring at the gum. “Nope, definitely Trident” There was a pause. “Hmm” said the voice. Cassidy turned around. The girl she found herself facing was not who she had imagined to be the owner of the voice. “You’re so shiny” said Cassidy. “Thanks” “No thank you” Cassidy corrected. “For what” “For correcting my gum misidentification” “Oh” The conversation was over. Cassidy stared at the shiny girl who was now counting the coins in her pink coin purse. She wanted to
A Portrait of a Gecko Zoey Cort ‘20
know the girls name. It was probably Sarah. Or Madison. “What’s your name?” Cassidy finally asked. “My name’s Ivy” “Oh” Ivy. Her name was Ivy. Ivy, whispering your sadness to a woman, sitting on her ivory throne, who understands another tongue, thought Cassidy. Ivy, hanging upside-down from a wooden swing until heat rings through your ears and your brain has to stop thinking things for once in order to prevent the blood from dripping out of you tear ducts. Ivy, two guitar strings tuned to the same note but one of them is made of plastic so they never truly will harmonize with each other in perfect unison. Ivy, blowing smoke rings at the sun in one final effort to find righteousness in this burningstrips-of-green-metal world. “Ivy” whispered Cassidy to herself. And then she looked up and the girl was gone and the bus was gone but Cassidy still had her sharpie so she added to her list “8. A sizeable wad of Juicy Fruit from the bus station”. Madis Kennedy ‘21
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Excerpt from The Eyes in the Wall of the Basement The basement had eyes. The basement had eyes and in the dark Aline swore she could see them staring back at her. She carefully reached her hand out and pet the wall, knowing that, once again, she would feel nothing. Her hands traced over where The Eyes should be, imaging lashes and brows. The Eyes were brown, at least that’s how Aline liked to imagine them. They would sparkle in the sun; they would glow in the moonlight. They were Aline’s only friends. After months in the darkness, Aline woke up to discover that The Eyes had a mouth. It was a nice mouth. It wasn’t pink, or red, or mouth colored. Rather, it was the shadow of lips dipping under The Eyes. Aline sometimes pretended they were red, though. Not natural red, but cherry colored lipstick red. Maybe The Eyes were going out to a party. Eventually, Aline and The Eyes starting talking. Well technically, Aline and the mouth started talking, but Aline had been alone 28 Pillars of Salt
with The Eyes for so long that she thought of the mouth as just a subset of The Eyes, not their own thing. The Eyes had a deep husky voice, as if getting over a cold. Aline, on multiple occasions, had offered The Eyes a cough drop, before realizing that she lacked all basic essentials, and most definitely did not have a cough drop. “It’s coming soon,” The Eyes whispered to her one morning (at least Aline assumed it was morning. It was hard to tell when everything was always so dark). Aline scowled at The Eyes, questioning them in her head. The great thing about talking with The Eyes was that they didn’t require Aline to speak out loud. Just thinking was enough for her to get a response, which was very helpful considering how rough her voice was. “I can hear them,” The Eyes clarified. Aline tilted her head, trying to hear what The Eyes claimed they were hearing. She found herself crawling towards the basement door to hear better. The Eyes were right. Aline heard the light sounds of footsteps drawing
near. Usually, that sound alerted her to food. Once a morning and once a night (well, Aline guessed the food meant morning and night, but she couldn’t see the sun and so she was never fully sure), food would be placed by the door of the basement. The food was always slid in through some type of contraption. Somehow, the door never opened and no light ever came in. On multiple occasions Aline had waited by the door, trying to figure out how the food entered, but never once had she succeeded. “This isn’t food,” The Eyes told her. “There are too many voices.” Aline nodded in agreement; there were too many voices. During food time there were never any voices, just footsteps, but right now Aline could clearly hear someone
screaming for help. The door creaked and Aline backed away from the door. The door creaked again, and then the room was bathed in light. Aline found herself wanting to look around, but the light stung and, against her want to see, she found herself groaning and curling up to block her eyes from the light. “Let me go!” a voice screamed. Not The Eyes, though. This voice was clear, not husky. It didn’t sound sick. The voice screamed again, and then there was a thud and the voice went quiet. Aline heard the door start to creak close and suddenly bolted upright, uncovering her eyes and trying to squint through the blinding brightness. Like a feral animal, Aline scrambled for the
door, attempting to jam her hands in between before it shut. Just a second too late, Aline’s hands brushed against the closed door. Aline let out a wordless scream and felt tears building in the backs of her eyes. She didn’t care if they fell or not. She doubted The Eyes could see much better than her. “Hello?” the not-eyes said. Aline turned her head curiously, and her feet started walking in the direction of the voice. “I know someone else is down here. I saw you when I first came in.” The voice quivered. Aline wondered if it was scared. She was scared too, at first. Sometimes she wonders if she’s still scared. The Eyes tell her she’s not, and she believes them. It’s easier not to be scared, Aline’s decided. Aline walked Pillars of Salt 29
closer and closer to the voice. It had stopped talking, but she could hear long and heavy breaths coming from the corner of the room. Aline held her hands out when she neared the voice. She could navigate pretty well in the dark room, but now there was a new and unpredictable thing in there with her; Aline wanted to be sure she wouldn’t step on it. Aline’s hand brushed against something warm, and that something yelped. She assumed it was the voice. It was shaking. Aline reached out and tapped what felt like the shoulder of the voice three times in a way she hoped would be comforting. “I’m Mila. What’s your name?” The voice–no, Mila– stuttered. Even with the stutters it sounded beautiful. “Aline.” Aline 30 Pillars of Salt
struggled to get a sound out and her voice was more of a growl than a coherent word. She cleared her throat and tried again, but she hadn’t used her voice in a while and it didn’t sound much better. “Lee?” Aline made a sound of consent; it was close enough. “How long have you been here? Why is it so dark in here? Has it always been this dark? How do we get out?” Mila’s voice raised in pitch and Aline felt the urge to cover her ears. It was too much at once. “Hey, are you okay?” Aline didn’t respond, instead deciding to stalk back to her corner. There, The Eyes awaited her. They blinked. Aline blinked with them. “You can’t trust her,” The Eyes warned. “You don’t know that,” Aline
thought to The Eyes. Had she been in a normal conversation, she guesses she would have glared. Seeing as the room is so dark, expressions are kind of meaningless. The Eyes can hear her thoughts, though, so they knew she was glaring and, really, that’s what matters. “You’ve been alone for so long. A visitor only means bad news.” The Eyes had a point, Aline guessed. But, god, she was lonely. “I want a friend,” Aline thought. She swore she could see The Eyes squinting in annoyance. “She isn’t a friend, Aline. She’ll hurt you. I’m your only friend. You can’t trust her–” “You don’t know that!” The sound echoed through the room and Aline flinched. She didn’t plan to speak out loud.
In the corner of the room she heard Mila rustle. “Are you okay?” Mila asked. Aline didn’t respond. This didn’t concern her. Aline turned her attention back to The Eyes. They looked almost red now, the iris glowing with an almost ethereal light. Aline had never been afraid of The Eyes before. “You’re going to have to make a choice,” The Eyes whispered. They seemed bigger than they had just seconds ago. Aline slowly raised her arm up, feeling the cold wall where The Eyes should be. The pupil was bigger than her hand now, it seemed. “Me. Or her.” Josie Gordon ‘20
Double Exposure of an Elephant Quincy GordonPillars ‘22 of Salt 31
Great American Novel Sent: Thursday, March 8, 2019 10:33 PM Subject: Hey Dear Mia, I’ve written a novel. I know it’s been years since we last spoke, but I would really appreciate some feedback. I’ve attached the first chapter below. Best wishes, James Chapter One: Mia. It was a dark night. Cold. Too cold. The type of night where the only place to be is in bed with your wife or in bed with your best friend’s wife. This was the night that James first met Mia. It was one of those fancy shindigs. There were women there, though such distractions had never been of much interest to James. You see, James was unlike any man this town had ever seen: tall, dark, handsome in that cool-yet-emotionally-unavailable way. When he wasn’t listening to Neko Case on vinyl or training for the upcoming war, locals often spotted him at the marina, tossing lit cigarettes into the water. It would not be an exaggeration to say that every woman in this town was madly in love with him, though few even knew his name. Even fewer knew his story. Casually stationed in the liminal space between the rich socialites and the petty wannabes, James sipped cognac from a glass, quietly pondering the absurdity of
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war. As he stared ahead, deep in thought, a velvet-clad dame made eyes at him from the punch table. She was the total package. Legs all the way up to the bottom of her torso. The type of arms that had hands at the end. But James paid her no heed, because, though he didn’t know it yet, he only had eyes for Mia. Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. Everyone was quiet. Too quiet. A cool wind swept through the hollow space, sending the velvet curtains behind him into a flurry. Slowly, James turned around -- and that’s when he saw her. A very beautiful girl. She must have been at least 5’9, with average shoulders and an alluring torso. Her pale face was buried in an abridged copy of “Infinite Jest”, which she’d clearly picked up from the coffee table in an attempt to impress James. James strode towards her. As he walked through the crowd, all of the female dancers stopped, eyes transfixed on the chiseled features of their town’s own corduroy-clad sex symbol. “Hey.” James said, to the beautiful girl. “What page are you on?” The girl closed her book. “Wanna get out of here?” The two swiftly exited the scene and headed out into the streets of New York. The streets were busy. Too busy. Clinging to his arm, the girl tried to hail a taxi. “No.” James said. “Let’s take a walk.” Most ordinary men would get lost in the hustle and bustle of the city, but James knew these streets like the back of his hand. He led the girl to a beautiful park.
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As they walked through the park, the two lovers looked up at the night sky, which was full of stars. “That’s Aquarius.” the girl said, pointing up at a constellation. “I’ve changed my mind,” James said. “Let’s hail a taxi.” They went back to James’ place, which was a tasteful studio apartment with a beautiful view of the big buildings. “My name is Mia, by the way,” the girl said. “Oh, that’s so funny,” said James. “My mom’s name is Mia.” “Was Mia, that is,” he said, turning away. “I’m so sorry,” said Mia, holding his hand. “When did she pass?” “She didn’t. She just changed her name when she moved to Dallas last summer.” “Oh,” Mia said. “My dad is dead, though. I lost him when I was ten. He was out on one of his annual seal-clubbing expeditions when he got eaten by a polar bear. I wasn’t invited to come with him, of course. Dad said I’d catch frostbite and die.” “I’m so sorry.” “I should’ve been there, you know? Even if he didn’t want me there. The frostbite would’ve been worth it.” As they sat down on James’ bed, Mia noticed something on his bedside table. Upon closer look, she discovered that it was a bottle of drugs. “Are you okay?” Mia asked, holding his hand. James pulled away.
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“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” “You can talk to me,” Mia said. “Well, my therapist says there’s nothing wrong with me, medically speaking,” said James. “But I know I’m depressed.” Mia offered him a cigarette. He took it. “This might be a little forward,” said Mia, running her hands through James’ hair. “But I’m in love with you.” “No, you aren’t.” James said. “You only love the idea of me.” “Oh,” said Mia. With that, James stood up. “I’m going to go get some air,” he said, walking out to the fire escape. Mia didn’t follow him. Nobody ever saw James again after that night. Some say he became a supermodel in Chicago. Some say he’s out hunting the polar bear that murdered his father. Others say that he’s in sunny Los Feliz, writing the next Great American Novel. Mia still waits for the day when he will return for her. Until then, she will stare out into the marina, listening to Neko Case on vinyl, waiting, just waiting, to see his face one last time. Zoë Appelbaum-Schwartz ‘19
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Human Nature Luna Time drags on while Jumping stars lay dormant in orbit Turning through space Gravity, plunging all Light into the abyss Of the dark hallowed universe Craters forming on her skin As meteors burn bright Passing her gaze down upon The creatures of earth Her throat unable to echo her moribund supposition A vanquishing silhouette As the shadow of earth illuminates Only a crescent of her form Solitude, The music that quivers before Her tumultuous being Eyes engrossed upon earth As it begins to sprout Begetting , Creation and Damnation She wanders through the universe Bound to the movement Of her set path Into the sordid light of dying stars
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The Shadow Man He’s been with me for a long time I don’t know his name But I know who he is He’s the shadow under my feet That dances under my legs He’s the goose bumps that wriggle on my arm And the shiver that runs up my spine I feel him when I’m alone Inside my stomach He squeezes me tight Engulfing me inside of his mind It’s dark and cold Yet his grasp is so firm I fall into his vacant gaze Of contempt If I try really hard If I run really fast I can barely see his wondering shape Contouring to the genesis of my mind Barely feel his twinging grasp Embedded behind my ribcage But every time I close my eyes I see him standing in front of me Audrey Choate ‘20 Pillars of Salt 37
A Good Fry Ambiance enhances enjoyment of fry Wait is minimal, temperature is exceptionally Comfortable, vibe is ambitious and Sense of community is notable Texture balances crispness with fluffiness In a celebration of shared humanity. The level of salt boosts the flavor of the fry The fry can be enjoyed without needing anything added to it (including spices and ketchup) One can taste the potato And desires to continue consuming the fry. The taste, texture, and overall experience of the fry Outweigh the cost, drive, or waiting time One would travel far to enjoy the fry. Temperature enhances enjoyment of fry.
Anna Brodsky ‘20 and Isabella Silvers ‘20
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In-N-Out Anna Brodsky ‘20
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Junioritis I know the seniors will be mad, And I know I am usurping their brand But Junioritis is real. Its the same as arthritis Except It doesn’t give you the ability to sense the rain. I’m about ready to snap every number Two pencil In sight. The SAT can suck My well-educated ass. I am always perturbed. the other day, I yelled at my dad For buying the wrong flavor of gum. The end is now and I know because I’ve started watching Shark tank, I’ve become a 40 year old divorced woman. I only respond to Linda and questions about Hallmark movies. Kat McKay ‘20 40 Pillars of Salt
She Says My Name She says my name with an accent. i don’t like my name, it gives up too much about me. It says that i am my parents, it says that i am not mine. But somehow, i don’t mind it as much when my name comes from her purple lips. She, of course, would say that she says my name normally And i’m the one with the accent. My parents say it the way i do (with or without an accent, depending on who you ask), and maybe that’s why i like it so much better when she says it, with her accent and her purple lips. It says that i’m not my parents, not even my own i’m hers. And i don’t mind that so much, No; i don’t mind that so much at all. Maddie Fenster ‘20 Pillars of Salt 41
Two Corner This air is thick. Hard to breathe air. My words shiver, suck life in through their teeth. My feet hurt. My eyes ache. Blue pen smudges my hands. The memory of something beautiful. I miss Blue. I miss my left hand. I miss the young-ness of murmuring forests and the way the world Swayed green. I miss the fairies. I miss the fairies and their bells. This morning I saw a hawk on a wire. We stared at each other a long time. I knew that when he spread his wings, the mountain would shudder. Perhaps fairies come in different languages. There is blood under my nails. In my throat is a childhood scream. A lost dream scream. An ‘I was once wild’ scream. There is nothing today. The bread in our cabinet is going stale. I blink for fairies. Sometimes I see blue in the corner of my eyes. But when I turn – Well. Only a coyote can wail the way I want to wail. Young, blue, haunting.
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Other Things The world places her fingers softly on my nose. Her breath smells of winter, of a Christmas I know is coming.
There are other things.
I hold my ears in place and my mind takes my feet on a long walk. There are sunflowers here And hawks. Laurel Canyon crows. My hands drag my favorite blanket along and the wind shapes my hair into Thousands of little question marks. I put mint leaves on my tongue. Somewhere someone I’m going to fall in love with is playing a twelve string guitar. A fairy in a Douglas fir tree coughs and turns over in her sleep. Words twist into rain. My shoes tie their laces. One step and then another. A book under my arm. My familiar at my side – a coyote, who wails. Blue kisses my hands and drips from my skin and as I walk My life hums behind me, a skipping stone song. My mind tells of the ocean breathing onto her feet and crawling to meet me. She places her fingers softly on my nose. She floods my mouth and eyes and starfish nest in the center of my ears. She kisses me. There are other things. And I watch the sun set, facing my ocean. Me, a coyote, a crow, a hawk, a question mark road map, a memory not yet remembered, a shrieking, windsome whirling wild wondrous blue. A hill gone haunting. Livia Blum ‘19
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Esophajuice “We are all just so afraid----- but we are tough” “You should write a war novel” “If I wrote a war novel it would be like ‘he fall it go boom ahhhhh’” “They should teach that in schools” “Astrid are you aware of the fact that we are being transcribed” “Madis do you know what that is---That’s meta fiction” “Guys I can legally adopt somebody” “Yeah but you have to meet the household requirements” “Oh” “Kat is this okay” *gets up* “Sorry I can’t see that over my stomach rumbling” “What tumblr page did you read that on” “Today Coach L tried to convince me to change the i in my name to a y” “No you should spell it a-s-t-r-e-e-d” Madis Kennedy ‘21
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Dreams Juliet Youssef ‘19
and i ask and i ask her, are you not tired of holding up the sky? are you not tired of making the world turn?
she says she may not know but she will learn.
she says no. she says that she didn’t know she was holding up the sky, she just thought everyone’s backpack was as heavy as hers. she says that she didn’t know she was making the world turn, she just thought everybody was as dizzy as her.
i come back the next year.
and i ask her if she’s okay. she asks me what that means.
and i begin to ask her if she’s okay. but this time, before i can she asks me if i am. Sabrina Kim ‘22
i tell her that i plan to join her in holding up the sky she says no. she says she’s okay, i tell her i thought she didn’t know what that meant. Pillars of Salt 45
Defender Zoey Cort ‘20 46 Pillars of Salt
Ella Zoey Cort ‘20
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Elementary, My Dear Blue bricks and a concrete jungle gym My little feet padded ‘til callouses coated them Beckoned by the toll Oh no, not a bell The toll A single note chain-linked overhead Arching into the electric lights Meshing their buzz with droning hummm… That’s how someone might have described it for me From the sidewalk alongside metal gates Standing there, beneath the toll Accosted by paint chips flaking blue I’m here to say I was blessed When solid walls stained me graphite gray Minutes turned to hours as new, ornate phrasing Pushed me to the sentence limit Yes, reread that The second grade sentence limit 5 per paragraph etched to my eyelids A smile not far behind it as I placed the last dot. That Is where I learned to write And wouldn’t it be a severe oversight To look past my face toward the height of that fence? With scuffed shoes like any other child’s Dressed to impress in sky hued polos My most ardent opponent to a fine education Was kept far from my sight 48 Pillars of Salt
That’s right Had I not the mind to count bills Or the will they instilled within me To write to read to think to be better I could not begin to comprehend the lengths my teachers went for me. ~Written to honor the men and women within LAUSD who persevered for
education’s sake. May the citizens of California afford them the resources to elevate their classes even further.~ Lena Jones ‘20
Clouds Quincy Gordon ‘22
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Dancers Quincy Gordon ‘22 50 Pillars of Salt
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In Love in Ohio Clean dark hair tucked behind her ear the most gentle motion of them all a gentle touch, a loving smile is all that is needed to care for a young owl, she said That and a loaf of bread, a handful of daisies $3.75 in loose change and no seatbelts We blasted the Jonas Brothers and drove off of the Earth in your pickup truck with the smashed window and the carseat in the back it smells like old leather and cat pee My favorite smells beans, bagels, and blue cheese the epitome of a chili bowl Chipotle God I love burritos guacamole is the work of divine intervention bless me with that The petals on the moon turned green today I would like to be green as well, please Or maybe purple—purple sounds nice The glint of expo markers in my fingerprint It spread through the sky Covering the sun and the clouds Blotting out words I wish I had said, 52 Pillars of Salt
Would have said if I had been worthy But who decides worth? And what does it cost? Can I trade my hair for a sunny day? I’d be bald and burnt, but it would be worth it It would all be worth it I think No, I know Haha I don’t The ocean doesn’t seem like a terrible place to die no, not at all. there’s shells and sand and water “oh well” smells you shrug off every gentle butterfly that lands on your shoulder its wings flutter and it falls a white scrap in the sky glistening like the path of garden snails at dawn I am led on eggshells to the faerie ring of no return here, summer is forever and it smells very much like eggs and you and I spend our days together in the forest Because what else can you do when in love in Ohio? Creative Writing Class of 2019-2020 Pillars of Salt 53
