CREATIVE WRITING

Creative Writing by

EMMA MAJAURY Creative Writing Editor

November is here! This month serves as the transition from fall to winter, and for many the gap between Halloween and the winter holidays. These are the days for catching up with readings, assignments and old friends. These are the days to enjoy the last warm hours and fall leaves before the ground is covered in a white blanket.

I hope that these poems and short stories will serve as a tribute to all the good work that you’ve done in the first part of the semester, and inspire you to keep on pushing through to the end. Best of luck to you all!

untitled

SIMONE BÉLANGER Arts & Culture Editor

I like keeping snowstorms for myself and knowing they fit there the tiny drawer of a malicious rage as beauty in all makes me a brutal bird a barking dog one who claims victory in hurting with righteous words one who cries for the flakes i buried timidly in a mild headache of some sort

i like flirting with the softness of the wild art that bites and climbs on the tips those slender fingers offer they cramp and they curve for a harm that cannot stand to be maniacally disturbed i beg, burst in laughter with my smiling humid palms i am sweaty i am so wrong

though the crescent over us drools in absurd concupiscence

In the Lavender Haze

CHRISTOPHER DIMITRIADIS Contributor

This autumn’s day We find each other In the Lavender Haze. Staring longingly into your eyes, Wondering how I managed To find someone As perfectAs caringWonderfulLovingSweetAs you. Can’t your heart Find its home in me? Longing for a finished melody. Oh, I know I shouldn’t say Everything out loud This autumn’s day. But I hope that You will stay. To construct a sentence About how much you mean to me, Will be impossible. There aren’t just enough words. I love you With all of my heart. Nothing will ever change that. And as time goes on, It will get stronger. We will still find one another In the Lavender Haze.

Desperation

SARAH-ROSE MESTEL-GROINIG Contributor

You gambled my love away. You drank the vitality of my childhood, As if it were an addiction. Repairing me became your obsession. You crave. You tremble. You seek. My knees chafed, I am your enabler.

Nobody tells you how lonely 18 is

TOKA SIYAM Contributor

Nobody tells you how lonely 18 is You buy your own groceries You take the long way home because the therapist says walking is good for you You don’t text your best friend when you cry at night You stay in and forget what love felt like You celebrate your birthday in the dark, no cake for you You pick up your journal and You try to write about it but the words never find a way No one tells you, 18 is just picking up the kid you thought you left behind Because the sounds that scared him are still there

And now, they’re harder to ignore

Because 18 is just lonely 18 is being stuck in a dark corner isolated from everyone you know

Moonlight’s Silence

TIMMY TAING Contributor

Out comes the moonlight With stars glowing bright. Up to the sky I gaze Within my mind, there’s a haze. A light that shows some stairs I see someone familiar there. He looks hot and classy Invites me for dancing that’s fancy. He offers a hand and I madly blush Leaving my heart in a rush. Here we go, up and slow Waltzing under the moonlight’s glow. The sights looked pure and clear And I felt nothing to fear. I thought I was in bliss But suddenly he didn’t want this.

He had feelings that were concealed And hard to believe they were real. I tried to look in his eyes But all I saw were cruelty and lies. He shut me out of his life And twisted that back-stabbing knife. Here we were, up so high And left with a rude good-bye. I’d look out into the sky Contemplating how things went by. Darkness and clouds started to form Leaving me in a hell of a storm.

Pouring my world with intense rain Showering with tears and heartbroken pain. I miss the old, welcoming guy I knew But here’s the reality I’m going through.

He may have thrown me off track But not worth chasing someone holding me back. This storm fluctuates day by day But I’ll get through - somehow, some way…

Mercy

VASILIKI KANARAS Contributor

On this day, my stomach is cut open. My insides are on a steel table and dozens upon dozens of men are looking at what I have to offer.

They take my liver and are in awe of its size. They touch my lungs, unaffected by their contracting movements, and my heart. My beautiful heart beat before them. My ribs are pulled apart, granting them full access to whatever they please. “What a discovery!” One of them said to my captor. He tells them what he is doing. He says that he is the best scientist, and I am his experiment. I am his. His, his, his. He doesn’t even tell them my name. He doesn’t care. Mercy, I begged the first time he planted the scalpel into my abdomen.

When I had made the mistake of pleading another time, he cut off my tongue.

Doodles by

EMMA MAJAURY Creative Writing Editor