Instructions on How to Keep Company Tandem.....................................................................................................................................................................................28,29

Instructions on How to

Begin by forgetting any preconceived ideas and beliefs you may have, prepare Keep Company a blank canvas, let your soul become a shell, lose yourself. Any relevant By Martha Bratchercompany favors those they can influence, become accustomed to that indescribable feeling of emptiness. Let it consume you, accept it, and reap its benefits.

Educate yourself on the latest trends, quickly forget the ones that have fallen out of fashion, lest you fall with them. Hold them at arm’s length, ready to befriend or discard. Once you have mastered this art, I think you’ll be well on your way. Know that when one approaches you, they aren’t offering their companionship. Their ears will remain deaf to your troubles, their eyes blind to your pain. You may know their name, but they will always be a stranger, as you are to them. They are giving you—and although they seem to not know, deep down they do, we all do—they are gifting you with a temporary contract, a promise to keep each other company if the other happens to be around. A portrait creating the appearance of normality and higher status. An agreement easily disregarded once it has become bothersome to either party.

And after many of these contracts have been constructed and terminated (but this will happen much later), you can despair in the emptiness you have surrendered to, realizing that you will always be merely a shell of the person you abandoned so long ago. In your mission for societal acceptance you rescinded your youth and happiness.

But what did you expect, what more do you want? You don’t know anymore, all you know is the satisfaction of blending in the crowd, being wanted by the masses. So quickly, forget also that gloomy revelation, bind yourself to that decision you made so long ago and let your conscience remain free of doubt. Pay no mind to the withering of your sanity. Save your cries for the dark of your desolate home.

Afterwards, grab a drink at your local cafe and chat with a newly formed, utterly boring, acquaintance, and please, don’t converse in a way that gives away such fickle inner turmoil and leave them to deal with their own.

Part One When I Close

Little rivers And little streams My EyesFlowing ever onward By Adam McCarter And ever in my mind Swaying grass And swaying leaves Dancing along the ground And along the horizon’s line I see caves I see the quakes of the earth Broad ravines delving down Creating great chasms far below A waterfall creates a blanket And it covers the world The very dirt lies still Like a statue none may ever know A bird’s wings disturb a silence Not broken for an age Echoes of echoes And silence comes again Light is cast down Many shadows are born Animals cower from the rain Hiding from a storm Viewing massive mountains Seeming to continually gain grandeur Lets me love And never forget my Nature.

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Part Two

Large factories And larger industries Growing always And increasing in my mind

And though I long to be blind I know I will still perceive That smell of smoke Makes me choke

The silence is now gone As the iron clangs and steel tings Peace has been broken And guns cease to fire now

The chill of the metal Reminds me of death. When did it come to this? Why and how?

Trees have been chopped No grass is left The rivers are dammed The caves have been mined The dirt has been dug up And the mountains now erode The smog blocks the light In the darkness we are trapped.

Oh humanity! Have humanity! And look at what you wrought Look at the desolation See the losses are a lot

Now we can’t go back And now all is lost Look at all the beauty To the side you have tossed

Now it’s but a memory Of times gone by The bell has been struck And the era did die

The animals are gone And the river turn dry The magnificence is but a memory Only my knowledge can arise.

Nature, oh Nature! You are always on my mind And I yearn to think of you all the time When I close my eyes.

Photo by Lilian Nielson 11

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Wish By Kailyn Williams

I used to wish My eyes were blue, And my hair was straight. My skin was fairer, And my nose was smaller. My legs weren’t as skinny, And my stomach was.

I used to wish That I would change, The same feelings that All girls feel All the time.

I used to wish That I didn’t look different, That I would fit in, That I would blend.

I used to wish, That I looked the same As the girls on magazines, The girls on the runways, The girls on Instagram.

I used to wish That I could match Ideal beauty standards. But as years have passed, As I’ve gazed deeper Into my mirror, Into my appearance, I’ve realized there is No such thing as a beauty standard.

Now, I never wish My eyes were blue, Or my hair was straight. I never wish My skin was fair, Or my nose was tiny. I never wish My legs were thicker, Or my stomach was flatter.

I now know Beauty can be found anywhere, In any shape, In any size, In any color, Because beauty Knows no limits.

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Burned Out By Emma Allen

Aidan’s shadow dances over the walls, the shaking of her hand combining with the flickering of her lantern and rough-hewn sides of the cave to make a contortionist of her dark reflection. Her nerves send tingles through her body, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toenails. It’s a curious thing— her anxious mind— when she’s the one who insisted on coming down here in the first place.

Mama had forbidden her to venture any further than where the sunlight brushed its fingers against the entrance. But Mama went to town today. Besides, how is Aidan supposed to stay away from such an adventure? She would find gold and diamonds and rubies and Mama would finally get her pretty ring Papa hadn’t been able to afford and Imogen would get a nice necklace to match the brand new red dress they would buy for her.

The closely knit formations of rock, which had seemed to be drawing nearer just moments before, abruptly broke open into a space so vast Aidan’s weak flame touches only the edge behind her. She creeps forward, squinting to see as far as she can. Out of the very corner of her eye, something glimmered. Turning, she moves toward the glinting, stalagmites tugging at her coat and water dripping into her matted hair from the stalactites above.

An expanse of green tinted water stretches out inches from Aidan’s boots, the tops of which are pulling up and flapping about with each step. She’s worn the shoes for about five years now, and her growing feet don’t like that very much, especially since her toes are now exposed to the chilly cavern air.

The corners of her lips twitch into a smile when she thinks of Imogen’s eyes, the lake’s color matching that of her sister’s exactly. She moves from the water and deeper into the new vastness ahead. Even with the limited light, Aidan knows the cave is beautiful, and she can’t wait to bring Mama and Papa and Imogen down with her— prove to them it isn’t dangerous like they said.

That is, until she sighs so contentedly that her lantern flickers out.

If she thought it was dark before, this is like a bonfire next to the sun. The infinite shadows press down on her eyes, forcing them backwards into her skull. She won’t be needing them anyway— there is no light to adjust to.

Aidan thrusts her hand into her pocket, feeling around for her extra matches and fumbling with the box. There are only three. Dropping to her knees and setting the lantern in front of her, she strikes the match. In her haste to graze the wick, she jabs her hand carelessly forward.

Metal scrapes rock as the lantern rolls away. The sound is deafening in the otherwise silent caverns. Panic wells up inside of her, filling her up all the way to her throat, roiling in her stomach and coming out as short, harried breaths. To calm herself, she chews on her lip and digs her dirt-crusted fingernails into her thighs. After a few deep breaths, she gets to her hands and knees, crawling towards where she thinks she heard the precious lantern roll, her fingers stretching desperately.

A spider scuttles over Aidan’s knuckles. She wonders dimly if Papa or Imogen have noticed she’s gone yet. Mama won’t know until she gets back from the town, all the ingredients for her lemon cake in hand. They are supposed to be celebrating Papa’s birthday tonight, and they would eat his favorite stew for dinner, and once they were all full of dinner and sugar, Papa would have tucked Aidan and Imogen into bed, smoothing their hair and singing them to sleep. She already missed his voice, the surprisingly smooth honey baritone coming from the leathery tan skinned and raggedly bearded man that is her father.