and the stronghold falls

SCRIBE

Volume 24, July 2021

The Literary Folio of The Spectrum Published by the students of the University of St. La Salle

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or any part or form.

LITERARY EDITOR Carl Hason T. Gerale

LAYOUT ARTISTS Alexandra V. Bachoco Kiara Nicole D. Villa Mikey Vincent T. Vicente

ILLUSTRATORS Alexandra V. Bachoco Angela A. Coronel Christian Dominic L. Ledesma Carl Hason T. Gerale Jaziel Ann V. Seballos Mikey Vincent T. Vicente

COVER CONCEPT AND DESIGN Carl Hason T. Gerale Jaziel Ann V. Seballos

Set in IM FELL Double Pica and Iowan Old Style

Foreword

At the vantage point of these rickety rows of seats, the trick act’s rather enraging, no?

Pardon my sudden voice disrupting your deep contemplation, kind patron. You see, my quite curious eyes can’t help but notice a rousing soul seemingly addled among this audience. Perhaps the fun rides outside and ever-present flashes of blinding lights have finally lost their allure to you? Well, if you would let this meddlesome fellow bargain for a quarter of your hour for a golden ticket out of this scene, then allow me as I let you in on a secret. After all, once one catches the sleight that maneuvers the mechanisms of this place, there is no descent back to naivety.

Without further ado, pay close attention as I tell you my knowhow of the Wiles. This place hides more of what can be seen under its cunning spectacles than it reveals with all its grand scheme of magical wonder. Look past the perfected smiles on the performers’ faces, lines of multicolored stalls, brightly painted booths that would haggle you over for comfort. Things are not what they always seem to be in the height of bliss.

Humor this thought: the way out lies just beyond all these colors and extravaganza.

You jest, dear friend! You contest that no trail leading outside exists within this fair, but believe me when I say that you are capable of tracing one—if only with a little more intention. How I knew, your averting gaze revealed your apprehension towards unfamiliar grounds. On top of that, you would have outright refused my proposition if you so much deem the idea utterly ludicrous.

Now, at the time you arrive out of this tent, stride with your feet. Worry not of where the dead crowds go or form a queue, the path you seek is not always where they herd and crow. Veer your vision at which you tread and away from where the contraptions coax for a spin or two. In a place that you have long circled the same old dirt road, steer your course towards the path you never dared taking before.

My eyes have already spied the ensemble of tiny horrors on your face, mimicking the acrobats up front from when I mentioned departure— and perchance, a stray sighting of suspicion. The call is still yours whether to wager your trust upon this random folk. You will always have a hand of choices, good friend.

I could further argue that there is no need for distrust in our newfound acquaintanceship, but I suppose a speck of skepticism is a good thing to have, don’t you think? To resist it shows less of your defiance to be fettered by ignorance. We both know humans live life not with strings secured around their limbs.

Here, take this old pamphlet and sift through the accounts salvaged from the old belongings of artistes, merchants, and machines that have long departed the Wiles should your resolve waver. This is no golden ticket, contrary to what I guaranteed, but I deduce you need the belief of possibility more than a pretty piece of paper. Keep your coins; payments are unnecessary for an object your courage has already earned.

My shift shall end soon. And so, before I take my leave, bear in mind: embrace the knowing as much as you brace for it, dear friend. That is when the haze draws open the path for you. Mayhap, I’ll see you on the other side.

Some strange and nosy vendor,

Carl Hason T. Gerale