Mirrors is the Spring
Edition of the Timber Creek Art and Literature Magazine. All submissions, selections, and designs are student generated and produced. As many of the entries, both in artwork and literature, looked inward towards oneself, the Art and Lit Mag Team collaborated to reach the magazine’s theme: self reflection. The team would also like to thank all who submitted their work, gave time to the project, and who will continue to do so in the future.
-The Art and Lit Mag Team
ROCKABYE PLEASE (Addison Davis) Incarceration in your hand-made crib, (And yet the thought of leaving leaves me dead). To disregard your trite and stale guilt-trip, (Or be a doctor or lawyer instead)? You’ve given life, my wine and daily bread, But this communion doesn’t entitle You, to just cease the raging flames you fed Or to prevent me my cursing the bible. I’ve spent my 18 years a disciple. And yet, like Prufrock do I even dare To cut the cord, withstand the ripened trail Of just inventing a future elsewhere? I’ve found my rock and my hard place too. But still no closer to what I will do.
Freckles
(Edie Mahle)
“What’s the Biggest Lie You’ve Ever Told?” (Briahanna Williams)
Well you see mom, the second little child went to the market, the third little stayed home and the fourth little child went ‘We,we,we’ all the way to the park.” “Is that so?” mom said. I nodded, but I really wasn’t sure where either of her three beloved children drifted off to. The only child I knew was in her presence was me and she really was not too happy to see me in that particular moment. “How could you see them go off to all these different places and not try to catch at least one of them?” said mother. Wow, mom is smarter than I thought she was. “Mother, mother, mother, I was unsure of which child to catch. I mean isn’t that like picking favorites? I did not want to catch just one, so I let them be.” I uttered, trying to stay as undercover as possible. “Well, that kind of makes since. But why didn’t you keep up with them in the first place?” Man, mom is good. She is really trying to blow my cover. Can you not see mom that this is hurting my brain? I heard knocking on the door and so did mom. Please God let that be the kids, PLEASE GOD let those be the KIDS! Mom opened the door. It was the pizza man. Great. “Hello, ma’am. Did you order a large meat lovers pizza with a side of three children?”
“What?” mom sad in shock. Yes! The Lord does answer prayers. The kids came in and screaming, “Mommy! Harley left us at the mall!” Uh-oh. I’m toast. Better start running.
Counterpart
(Abby Askenasy)
Her Future (Megan Goin)
“Welcome to the future!” A tall man in a fedora yelled to the passengers in the seats in front of him. “Where planes travel through time to always be early, look like flys and even fly like them too!” The man was about to continue, but before he could, a little girl that looked about five with chubby cheeks that resembled a chipmunk, two bright green eyes, and tiny ears raised her hand. “But mister. Why is the future so… bland?” She questioned him while looking out her window. “Well little girl,” the man started. “This is just one of many futures! In this future humans have adapted so well we can make anyone or anything invisible!” The man didn’t want to tell the girl that this was her future. He just didn’t have the heart to. Her eyes lit up at his words. “Well I’m going to be the person that makes sure that happens!” she exclaimed. Suddenly a loud crashing noise causing mass panic from the other passengers, everyone ran to a window to see a bright blue shy where the once beige close was. “And then I’m gonna...” she paused for a moment. “I’m gonna teach little children to read.” Another crashing sound and this time the passengers could see a meadow full of grass and flowers around the area below the plane. “And go to mars!” The little girl didn’t know anything was happening, but every time she would list something she would
do, something else popped up outside of the plane. Now instead on the bland void the passengers and the man saw a beautiful scene before them. The little girls future was bright. “Ladies and gentlemen the future,� he said with a bright smile.
Untitled
(Andrew Bau)
UNTITLED
(KATIE ROOSA)
UNTITILED
(MIDNIGHT ANIMAL) A dark room has been my prison. A solitary lock lay in the far end of the room countless keys line the walls a single solitary key possessing the right fit for the lock. Countless days spent trying key after key yet only to end up fruitless. Year after year attempting to unlock what ever lays beyond this damned lock. For all I know what lay beyond it is just another room with more keys. I know not why I try. Useless useless useless i tell myself. Voices tell me that the opposite is true. The more I am beaten over the with the same messages the more disgusted I have become with myself. Often my mind will wonder what lies beyond the locked door. Perhaps happiness, Joy or some form of treasure. The thought of it being treasure raises on question to me. Is it a treasure that I shall hold onto for the sake of having only to find out someone else needs or will it be what i seek. Alas I know not what I seek only that I seek it. This treasure could also be a great secret. Two men may keep a secret if one is dead.
ART AND ME (DANNA)
Happiness
(Mary MaCasland)
Happiness is a myth formed by human beings meant to shroud the darkness of the world from when you are young We are taught to smile before we are taught to walk in an effort to keep the truth from our tiny lungs As we grow old the bubble we have been trapped in becomes worn and scratched We reach an age, different for all, where our bubble bursts like a baby bird just hatched The world is no longer a place for you and you alone but a place for all to call their home Some lurk in the shadows waiting to attack while others shine in bright places wanting to counteract Some hide afraid to be found while others are flying high above the ground No matter where you look you’ll find people who have different intentions, good and bad It can be hard to keep your happy shroud when there’s chaos all around But it is imperative that you do so as not to lose your old hopeful mood “Happiness can be found in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light” A quote from a movie that rings true to this day
Don’t let the horrors of this world darken your lantern but let them fuel your fire to change your outcome Despite your burst happiness bubble and the harsh reality of the real world, you control your life’s route Do not throw away your shot to make the world a better place by spreading your happy soul You can change the world despite what you think, and take those fighting and hurting out of their dark hole You’re a light in the darkness So glow with confidence
Shellphone (Anonymous)
The Star
(Katie Orgunov)
Henry’s Journal (Zachary Lopez)
As a newbie on the police force, the higher-ups always stick me back in the evidence room and make me dig through old cases that have never been closed. While the job got boring after a while, reading was always something I enjoyed so it didn’t bother me too much. After about an hour of reading through dull letters and files, I came upon a red tasseled journal. The name “Henry” was scribbled in sharpie on the front cover. The file was for a missing persons case, what a horrible thing to find after a teenager has been kidnapped. The crimson seemed to draw me in and cast a spell, I unhooked the lock and began to read. January 18th 2015 – 5:28 pm Well, here it is. My psychologist wouldn’t shut the hell up about starting a diary and I’m tired of hearing about it from my parents, so I’ll try my best to write down my deepest darkest secrets in a journal. I’m starting to feel better, the headaches and hallucinations are starting to occur less and less frequently. If I’ll be honest, I am quite hopeful that pretty soon they will be gone for good, it’s about time. My day was uneventful, I went to school, came home, did some homework and started writing this before sleep. The only thing I can remember from today is seeing Marra walk down the halls, her tight jeans and shirt hugged her figure. Her reddish-brown hair, done up in a bun, never failed to entrance me. The freckles that contrasted her pale face looked like stars in the night sky. Her deep green eyes had me feel like I was going through a maze that never had an exit to begin with. Even going back to first grade, I remember
being enthralled. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally say something, even if it’s just a wave. If only I had the courage. Well, time for sleep. Night journal. I couldn’t help but wince as memories of when I was an anti-social teenager flooded back to memory. Poor kid probably never got the chance to talk to this girl before he disappeared. What a shame. January 21rd 2015 – 6:13 pm Wow. I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE TALKED TO ME. Her voice was just as soothing as I imagined it to be. I can remember every sense at that very moment she said hi. The mix of roses and strawberries overtook my nose the very moment she walked up. She was even more gorgeous up close. My skin crawled as she pushed back a strand of hair over her ear, if only I knew what it was like to do that. Man, there really is a god. My symptoms are completely gone, the woman of my dreams finally talked to me and I got her number. It has been a crazy three days. Time to call her and see where this leads!! Maybe I’ll even get a date out of it… Don’t get too ahead of yourself Henry. Gonna call Marra and sleep, night journal! Jeez this kid got her number. I’m supposed to fight criminals and be the law and I can’t even talk to a girl at the bar. I’m so proud of him. This journal is better than any book I’ve read recently. January 24th 2015- 6:25 pm Today is the day I become a man. Marra is coming over in an hour and we are going to dinner then a drive-in movie. Everything is ready to finally sweep her off her feet and make her mine. I finally learned how to tie a tie as well, going all out tonight. Symptoms have been well, none of the hallucinations have come back, No fatigue or shortness of breath. What a time
to be alive. Alright Henry, let’s go get yourself a kiss. See ya journal, can’t wait to write what happens next!!! Night Journal. January 27th 2015- 1:14 am Crap. I forgot to do a journal entry earlier today. I just got home from hanging out with Marra. Wow that woman is crazy. Who would have thought she would have been my first everything? I’m starting to fall in love and that’s terrifying. There was just a knock on my window and its starting to freak me out. I’m gonna go check it out. Some dumb ass kid was throwing rocks at my window shouting something. He said that Marra was crazy and to run away. What a jealous idiot, just cause he’s not with Marra he has to ruin my night. Night Journal. Oh yeah, going on another date with Marra in accouple days! She said she has a surprise for me and it involves privacy, so I can’t wait. This was the last of the journal entries. I skimmed the rest of the pages, but they seemed to be blank except for a few with some dirt stains. I rummaged through the rest of his file. Missing at the age of 17, found in a river with his genitals and hands missing. Jesus, what monster would do this to a kid that had so much ahead of him. My body felt numb after reading his entries and what had happened. I had enough for today and slept until I was off. On the way to my favorite bar, I spotted the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my entire life. She had on a tight blood red dress that showed off her waist and figure astoundingly. She was walking parallel to me on the sidewalk in the opposite direction. When she passed roses and strawberries filled my nose, what a weird coincidence. The case was two years ago, there’s no way that it was the same woman from the stories. I turned to admire her figure but was met face to face with her in-
stead. “Oh hey… I’m sorry if I came off as creepy, my name is Tom, yours? “She gave me a blank stare. Her green eyes and freckles made my stomach churn. She was gorgeous. “Nice to meet you Tom. Where are you headed?” “Local bar, The Stable Horse,” Henry’s confidence surged in me.” Want to join me? Maybe grab a few drinks?” Her mouth curled into a smile and she walked towards me and took my hand and let me towards the bar. How insane is this. She looks exactly like the woman Henry described, except there is no way it’s her. Henry lived a couple counties away. Well Henry, let’s see if I can hit this off like you did. We drank accouple beers and mostly just small talked throughout the night, her eyes seemed to draw me in deeper and deeper the more I looked into them. After what seemed like hours of talking about her past and my past, we started to head out and moseyed outside the bar for a bit. “Hey Tom, why don’t we go back to your place?” Her mouth curled into a grin that could only mean one thing. I looked up to the sky to thanks Henry for finally giving me the courage to talk to a girl and ran off with this woman in hand. This night couldn’t get any better. Within seconds of stepping inside my apartment, she had me pinned down to the bed. Thoughts were swirling in my head as she started to undress. My imagination matched reality and I was completely dumbfounded on how lucky I was. Things started to take a turn as she started to be a little too rough for me. She started to bite my neck hard, even drawing some blood. I tried to get her off and talk to her about our boundaries but I couldn’t even move against her strength. “Hey uhm… can we talk for a moment? I just need to
know about-“ She covered my mouth with her hand and started to laugh uncontrollably. Her canine teeth began to sharpen and I felt something protruding out of her lower back. A pointy tail wagged back and forth as she gazed at me with her now purple eyes. “Wait what the fu- “Before I could even finish talking she pinned my arms to my side with immense strength, her muscles bulged from her petite figure. I could feel my wrist start to concave from the pressure. “Didn’t you learn from Henry? You shouldn’t lust after people you just met.” Her voice was low and seductive, it strangely let off a sense of love and passion. Her eyes penetrated my very being, I couldn’t move a muscle. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine, the softness made me let my guard down, but returned when I remembered what was behind those lips. Something clicked in my brain. The girl I was with was Marra. Henry wasn’t mutilated by some freak, he was mutilated by this breath-taking woman. I tried my hardest to force her off of me, but her grip was far too powerful for even a power-lifter to overcome. I realized it was futile and tried to enjoy the last minutes I had of life. Chasing after these types of women all my life just for it to be ended by one, what a joke. “Next time, don’t lust after women. Well, I guess there won’t be a next time!” She crackled with laughter. She barred her teeth and brought them down on my hands. I could feel the ligaments being torn apart by her vicious jaws. As my vision started to darken, the last thing I saw was Marra’s mouth coated in a crimson liquid. All I could see was black, but I heard the slurping, and smelt the strawberries and roses.
The Hidden Dragon
(Alexandra Allen)
Faces Among Stars (Sarah Ulery)
There’s something to reveling in silence, in secrecy, in hiding a part of yourself. You keep your lips pressed together. Wait for solitude to allow that small, knowing smile to finally slip out. Your gaze is compelled to turn skyward as day is cast into night. Constellations of truth giggle and wink, knowing they’ve ensnared your mind. Sharp sounds hiss repeating whispers of the past. Stars fall to the earth and leave behind caresses of comfort, of calm in wake of the waxing moon. This illustrates a fact: Truths of the soul are revealed solely within the individual. Throughout my years, however numbered, I’ve noted one key thing, and that is the concept of social reflection. Various aspects of my identity are drawn out by my environment, my expectations, my companions. This isn’t to say that any of those faces are facades; they simply leave me to question which one is closest to my core. I’ve determined that they are equally distant. But my truths are discovered in places where there is no one and nothing - in my mind, or, in my writings. I see who I am in my characters and themes, find my heart by tracing paths along the veins of my plots. Therefore, when I’m caught in the currents, swallowed by anxiety that comes with seeing dozens of reflections on dozens of faces for dozens of days, I write to sketch my identity in the way da Vinci sketched his self portrait, and once again, it comes back. Once again, I know myself.
The Dreamer (Katie Orgunov)
Contrasting Skin Tones (Edie Mahle)
The Avoided Arachnae (Dahlia Collazo) The itsy bitsy spider Fell slowly from above My eyes were getting wider For I could give no love Please stay away from me I kept crying out to her She didn’t seem to hear my plea And was closer than before There was little I could do So yes I was on the floor Still telling her to shoo While I squeezed out the car door
Blank
(Julien Makoutz) “Blank” writes the man, that causes destruction. “Stop” writes the woman, that leads the reconstruction. “No” writes the man, that hurts himself. “Please” writes the woman, that tries to save herself. “Leave” says the man, that tries self exile. “Never” says the woman, that keeps him on file. “GO” yells the man, that walks away. “No” says the woman, that follows him into the fray “Hate” says the man, with disgust on his face. “Love” says the woman, that keeps him in his place. “Black” says the man, while a shadow grows behind. “White” says the woman, as a bright light shines. “Fight” says the man, who raises his fists. “Peace” says the woman, who gives him a kiss. “Why?” asks the man, with a tear in his eye. “You” says the woman, that takes a step back and flies.
Disillusion
(Infidel Images)
Whispers in the Dark (Tabitha Tomlinson)
Massaging my temples, I crashed onto my bed, tired eyes squeezed shut. I longed to escape the world around me - to forget this past week’s events and start anew. When I finally pulled open my sunken eyes however, what I saw around me was no longer my room. I was instead standing on a long, winding path covered in crisp, browning leaves. Towering trees stared down at me, leaning in toward the path and meeting overhead to form a canopy of leaves and branches. The sensation of encasement quickly crept up on me and I began shuffling along the dark path, searching for a gap in the tree trunks through which I could escape, my breath shaky. I froze mid-step when a mumbling voice reached my ears, sending a chill down my spine. I inspected the area around me, looking for the voice’s owner, but could not find another person in the surrounding forest. The raspy noise then came again, the trees swaying as it did. The only possible explanation I was capable of coming up with was that the trees were whispering to me - inaudibly at first, but gradually growing louder and louder until their words came out as shouts. “It’s your fault, Elizabeth… You’re the reason she’s dead,” the trees hissed at me over and over again, each word a dagger that sunk deeper and deeper into my chest. My eyes stung as water pooled up inside of them and tears slid down
my cheeks, crashing onto the ground. “It wasn’t my fault!” I shouted back as I collapsed to my knees, sobbing into my palms. I shook my head vehemently, repeating to myself that it hadn’t been my fault. But no matter what I said now or how badly I wished it to be true, I knew deep down that nothing could change what I said to her that day. She had been holding on for so long, fighting each day just to survive. And then I had to go and utter those selfish little words that she somehow managed to overhear through the hospital walls - those horrible words that ultimately resulted in her death. “Why don’t you just die already?” I had spat out, the pain of seeing my mother comatose for years suddenly too difficult for me to witness any longer. The next day, she was gone. Nonexistent. The sight of my own mother’s deceased form laying so still on that bed she’d been stuck to for years and the long, monotonous beep coming from her useless heart monitor left me sobbing on the cold tile floors. Now, I was wailing in the middle of a forest, trapped on a never ending path occupied only by my own horrible self. Nothing I said or did now could ever change what I had done that dreadful day. No matter how many times I yelled to the trees that it wasn’t my fault, nothing could alter the truth of the matter. Those words that came from my mouth… those words killed her. I killed her.
Arch of Flowers (Danna)
Graceful Death
(Destiny Fitch)
The sunlight, so elegant, dances upon the dying leaf. The glow of autumn fills the air. Something so beautiful illuminating the grace upon death. To have fallen from the tree top to the bottom, swinging in the wind’s melody. The leaf knowing its fate to join the others, yet being so delicate as to how it ends. To break free from the confinement to the tree, changing colors as the seasons changing the weather, to always change but to repeat in growth. Much like a person. Each emotion changing with age but to also be reborn into a new life, a new cycle. The colors of life are present even in the dullest times. Even as the leaf falls it becomes part of the earth, just as we do. To become part of the earth and give life to a new beginning, for that is the most beautiful rainbow of all. The rainbow of life.
Dear Future Love (Kaylee Jeanne)
dear future love, i hope this is a forever love i hope the word forever regains its meaning after the boy i gave all my firsts to took them as his own and left forever he said he would never never leave me lonely like my old house, my old town, like my own parents he knew my fears and he used them to his advantage, to get everything out of me to get my big heart pounding to the beat of his own and then one late night, one dark night, one night i would remember for the rest of my life he would make me believe i was happy and in love, until he could make sure i was incoherent and he could make his friend happy using ME using me as a toy, as a key to popularity, make me bleed and make me break and then abandon me and take all of his love back but i am a human being deserving of love deserving of a forever not a “when is this over” not a “how messed up can i get until i forget this” not a “how many pills will it take until it’s over forever”
i hope this will be a forever love but i’m terrified please know i am a human being deserving of love deserving of a real forever
(Katrina’s Reflective Surfaces) Katrina Cabungan
Pink and Blue
(Megan Fontenot) Pink Bubbly, Happy Loving, Helping, Cheering Two genuine souls striving to reach their goals. Listening, Solving, Searching Calm, Sad Blue
On the Edge of Freedom
(Anonymous)
The cement was sprinkled with water and the sky was gray with dewy morning air. My hair flew in loose strands around my face. I could smell freedom, but didn’t have the nerve to chase it. The distant sound of cars on the highway kept me sane. My life seemed so distant here, but at the same time, menacingly close. The wind sent small chills down my spine, causing goosebumps to grow along my forearms. For a moment, nothing seemed real. All of my dreams, a distant memory. My life, existing outside of reality.
Bird Achytypes (Anonymous)
Numbers
(Elizabeth Shugert) “Can I see some I.D.?” My date smiled politely up at the waitress as he pulled his driver’s license from his wallet. We were celebrating our second date at the local italian restaurant. My eyes trailed down to the card. Levi James Holten. He was one of the lucky ones to have a good I.D. picture. Smiling softly, I glanced at the number. And froze. 85463. A cursed number. This number has chased my family for as long as our history goes. These words were the only ones that raced through my mind as I noticed the numbers on my date’s ID. His thumb covered the remaining three numbers, but that’s irrelevant. Jumping from my seat, I ran as far as possible from the cursed
number. I didn’t even look back to see how my date reacted. All the stories flashed through my mind as quickly as the streets blur by. 85,463 dollars of debt unable to be paid back caused the death of my great grandfather. No one ever found the killer. My aunt received a folded flag because her husband died in action when his troop, 85, joined troop 463 to reinforce the front lines. Not even my parents escaped. Flight 85463 crashed with them trapped as doomed passengers. And now… my number was up. So full of panic, I never noticed the headlights aiming for me until I felt the pain. .oOo. Perhaps if I had just stayed in the restaurant, I wouldn’t have died. I go over the last details of my life over and over. I always come to the same question again and again. Did the curse kill me, or was it my own superstitious stupidity?
Untitled
(Alyssa Martinez)
Blank
(Julien Makeoutz) “Blank” writes the man, that causes destruction. “Stop” writes the woman, that leads the reconstruction. “No” writes the man, that hurts himself. “Please” writes the woman, that tries to save herself. “Leave” says the man, that tries self exile. “Never” says the woman, that keeps him on file. “GO” yells the man, that walks away. “No” says the woman, that follows him into the fray “Hate” says the man, with disgust on his face. “Love” says the woman, that keeps him in his place. “Black” says the man, while a shadow grows behind. “White” says the woman, as a bright light shines. “Fight” says the man, who raises his fists. “Peace” says the woman, who gives him a kiss. “Why?” asks the man, with a tear in his eye. “You” says the woman, that takes a step back and flies.
In Me (Cossette Rodriguez) “Where are we going?� She remained her composed silence as she confidently lead me along. This situation had arisen before, so no fear was present in that moment. She would always complain about the discomfort, about the hassle, about the cost, but she had never done anything drastic. How could she, really? No; I rested easily, assuaged by her sensibility. I held my gaze on her glorious image. She had such beautiful, kempt hair, all held in a tight bun, so as to draw more attention to her strikingly handsome facial features. Her eyes radiated with a presence that could have only been described as hauntingly discerning. The folds that marked the sides of those orbs revealed the full extent of her wisdom and tenacity. Each line and contour of her countenance lead precisely to her rich, full lips, from which came every profound and infinitely learned word that I had ever heard. Surely there was no one as impressive as her, and there never would be. This all circulated in my diminutive train-of-thought until we reached our destination.
“Where are we,” I inquired a second time. I again received no response other than a slight chill as she slowly laid her lovely head onto the frigid bed. “I don’t like this,” I declared, without even a sign of recognition from either her or the man that had entered the room. I then decided, sensing the grave atmosphere, to keep my comments hidden for the time being. Words were exchanged between the stern two, but all seemed foreign and uninteresting. Finally, she relaxed and allowed me rest. Her long eyelashes swept downward and covered her face, entering both of us into a state of comfort and trust. No one was like her, and no one ever would be. The declaration stood on a cornerstone in my mind, until the steady ground underneath the rock shifted. It cracked, shook, and weakened with something new, something wrong. “Please!” I screamed “Please, no! Please! Help! What is this? Help me! Why are they doing this? Please, stop them, it hurts! Mom!” Again, silence. But this time it remained, not just in her or him, but in me.
Untitled
(Andrew Bau)
Draw With Me Part II (Julien Makoutz)
K walked quickly through the fields. He was on his way to meet E on some important business. He needed to finish showing her how to play Tic-Tac-Toe the right way. As K walked he was laughing and humming to himself the song E had shown him the other day by writing the lyrics and notes on the wall. After a few minutes of happily walking; he arrived at the massive glass barrier between their two worlds. The cool chill of fall had finally arrived. He took out his trusty dry-erase marker and drew a small smiley face on the wall where they left off. He was greeted by the joyful heart she drew back. K always loved the little heart. It was just something with the way she drew it. The movement of her hand and the way she smiled as she drew was poetry he couldn’t comprehend. He enjoyed her company and had gone to the wall every single day for almost a year straight. Every day they would meet and contently draw. Over the span of time, K had grown very fond of E. He noticed more and more about her. From the way, she sat when she was excited, to her emotions based on what she was drawing. Usually when she was happy she would draw vibrant scenes with quick strokes of her hand. When she was sad she would slow down and draw more somber scenes. K had also noticed more about her physical appearance. Apart from the gray hoodie she always wore, she had a light silver chain that hung from her neck. Attached to that chain was a large skeleton key that gently rested in the middle of her chest.
He had spent many hours wondering about what it would open and often fantasized there was a hole in his heart where that key needed to fit. Today was the day he tried to unlock it E was already drawing a grid pattern for Tic-Tac-Toe. E sat on her knees and was furiously drawing a set of squares in a 3-D pattern. “That’s new” K smirked as he wrote. “No dur, just an on-the-fly sort of thing” As E erased the words K looked up into her sad, blue-grey eyes like it was the very first time he had. She always got this look on her face when she was thinking. Like it was a hard math equation and her life depended on it. She started to put down the first mark on the wall when K gently knocked the glass and smiled. “No, I go first” he wrote. “Come on, just once? Pleeeeaaaaase? You always win anyways!” She huffed and folded her arms in protest. “Nope.” She sighed, keeping a faint smile hidden, and erased the large X she had placed directly in the middle. K then happily put the first mark in the top left-hand corner like he always did. K, of course, won the game and refused to tell E the secret, even though it was blatantly obvious. They spent the rest of the day drawing people with simple expressions and other strange things. K drew the faces and heads while E drew the bodies. Absurd things were also drawn that day. From flying blocks of cheese to snowboarding whales. They drew it all. The day flew by from all the fun they were having and they eventually had lost all their energy. K had started pack-
ing lunches for himself and told E to do the same. The both of them had decided to take a well-deserved rest and eat. K had sat down with his back to the wall, staring at the sunset to the northwest while slowly eating some of his sandwich. So E had followed suit and placed her tiny back up against the glass right behind his, nibbling on crackers. She could feel K’s sigh from her side, and she turned to look at him slowly, setting down her food. He was smiling in the way he always did. Like he was looking at old pictures that reminded him of a wonderful time. She seemed to have fallen in love with his smile, or maybe the gaze that fell from his calm eyes; no, that wasn’t the only thing, it must have been all of K. The relaxed way the corners of his mouth rose and seemed content and at ease. Maybe one day she could know what made him smile as he did. He breathed slowly from what she could tell from watching his chest rise and fall. She could only take so much before E put her delicate hand to the glass and put it where his head was, spreading her fingers out equally. With her other hand, she tapped lightly on the glass. K turned around and blinked. She was blushing madly and had her hand up to the window. She had her head bent at such an angle that her beautiful hair fell over her face; covering most of her soft silhouette. He wrote a simple sentence and put his hand up to where her’s was. He could feel her warmth through the glass, and the girl could feel his. E lifted her head and stared at the sentence in wonder. She spent almost a full minute staring back into eyes and muttering his words over, and over again under her light breath. “I love you.”
Silence. They uttered no noises, it took them a while before they could even breathe again. The silence seemed to last forever. The sun had fully set for K and E. Yet, they still sat there looking onward into each other’s eyes. The words still floated in front of her like a curse she never wanted to break. It meant the world to her. He was her world, and she was his. K smiled and chuckled before looking off again, hiding his dopey grin. She was still observing his features. Grinning whenever he made a move like it was the cutest thing she has ever seen. She wanted to be in his arms right now. She wanted nothing else in all of the universe than to fall asleep in his arms. K knocked on the glass again and gestured to what he had written. “It’s getting late… People are going to start wondering where I am.” E only nodded and stood up. K stood up right after her. He pushed his body up against the cool glass and rested his forehead on it. She did the same, but her forehead only made it to the middle of his chest. She laughed to herself some, then pulled away. “Goodnight my dear K. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” K couldn’t feel anything. He was overjoyed and excited. With a whole slew of other feelings, he couldn’t do much, other than to bow his head gently and turn away. He ran all the way back to his house. Jumping and skipping the entire time. K has never felt so happy in his entire life. He truly loved her. Ever since that day he saw her. It was amazing how his feelings for her changed over the summer. She had given him shelter from his world. Carried his mind away from his father’s death and his mother’s disappearance over the summer. Away from the abuse of other humans, away from the horrors of his world. All he wanted to do know is
repay that favor. With all his might. For her. For E. He arrived home a while later. He had gotten lost in his happiness and wandered. K had no idea what he was going to say tomorrow. The combinations of words ran through his head like fireworks; speeding across a dark night sky. Only to explode when he thought he had found the right ones. K did this for many hours. Contemplating the perfect words to use. He wanted nothing but to feel her soft looking hair or gently lift her chin and look into her eyes once more. K fell asleep smiling, clutching his blanket in one hand. E was no better off. She had slipped into her cozy PJ’s and was lying in bed. Hugging a pillow and softly squeaking every once and awhile out of pure joy. She couldn’t think of anything to say either. So E had planned to do it right on the spot. Tell him that she loved him just as much as he loved her. She stayed up for hours. Her mind drifted from time to time but always ended up back at his handsome silhouette. The way his long coat flapped in the cold fall breeze and how his hair shimmered red when the sun hit it just right. Everything about him was amazing. E kept thinking about him until her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted off into sleep. When the sun had risen, K was already up. He was lacing his shoes and putting on the new coat he had worn the day before. It made him look professional, or so he thought. It was a sleek black trench coat, with sharp looking edges. On the inside, it was patterned with blue, shiny circles. His big heart ached to meet the girl of his dreams once more. So he set off into the street, walking through the bitterness of the cold to the regular spot where they had met time and time again. E was there already, sit-
ting there and searching for him like a lost puppy. Once she had spotted him, she shot up off the ground and slammed her tiny fists on the wall for a few moments to get his attention. He only laughed and pulled out a gloved hand which held the old black marker. He placed the marker to the wall and wrote “Good Morning, my dear. Sleep well?” E went silent again. Trying to form the words in her head so she could write them on the wall. She still had nothing to say. Just last night she had promised herself to say it on the spot, but couldn’t come up with the words anyways. Her mouth was trying to form words before she wrote them, but even in her head, she was stuttering. K could see that she was struggling and laughed. He then put the tip of his marker back up to write. “You okay?” She shakily raises her hand up to write back. “Yes I am, but my chest hurts a lot. I think I love you too.” K took a step back and read her words, pondering what he would say next. E, trying to hide the fact that her face was extremely red, zipped up her grey hoodie. She crossed her arms in hopes to keep the much-needed warmth to her self. K was in the middle of writing his response when she glanced back. He had a playfully evil smile on his face by the time he was finished writing it out. “Well, come back to me when you know for sure that you love me.” E pulled her hoodie strings so that it closed all the way before she sat on the ground like an angry ball of fluff. It took her about five minutes to slowly come out of her little pout and crawl over to the bottom of the wall to write in very small letters. “You know what I mean!!!” K just fell to the ground laughing, his big coat billowing up
around him as he fell. After a minute he had calmed down and wiped a tear away from laughing so hard. He stood up and suddenly got very calm again, going back to write more. The sentence he had previously thought up to write down had disappeared. K struggled to find it again but it had been lost, so he drew a heart. The heart wasn’t the best, the right side was lopsided and the entire proportion was offset, but it would suffice. E looked up at him with glistening puppy eyes. She stood up shakily and started to write a sentence back, but just like her lover, she couldn’t. E copied him and wrote a heart back; much better than his. K smirks and goes to wipe his away but stop, pulling his hand back. Instead, he puts his marker up to the wall. “Let’s keep these here.” E summons what’s left of her strength and writes back. “What for?” “To remind me every day that someone out there loves me.” “I’ll keep mine too.” K nods, getting that thoughtful look on his face again. He takes a moment to look into the gray expanse situated around the girl of his dreams. K’s look went from thoughtful to saddened; his gazed traveled downwards as he realized he had been lying to E. He then suddenly dropped his marker and spoke aloud. “My name isn’t K, it’s Dustin. K is my middle name...” E looked back at him confused, not being able to read his lips. “MY NAME IS DUSTIN, WHY CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?” He yelled, slamming his fist against the glass wall. E jumped back in the same moment, looking very confused. He slammed it against the wall several more times until a faint cracking noise was heard. Dustin took a step back in disbelief, staring at the cracked glass in front of him. He reached out a slightly bloodied
hand from smashing his hand so many times against the wall and poked the tip of his finger against the glass. A small, glittering piece fell to the ground on E’s side. Before Dustin saw the small piece fall, he quickly turned away, not noticing what he had done. His soft crying was suddenly audible to E. She approached the wall carefully, creeping up to the hole. She spoke softly. “H-Hello…?”
Waking Lion (Anonymous)
Pictured Rocks
(Victoria Nelson)
Laughing Tears (Ruth Gallardo)
An icy blanket coated the land, further than my eyes could see. But my eyes couldn’t see anything. They were sealed with a mask of foggy images. My living room didn’t feel the same without you. Winter had never felt so cold and still. I was dispirited by the weight on my heart, and the nagging sore on my soul. So why was I laughing? My face was stained with tears. Each fell harder than the one before. Like rocks, dragging me down into a dark abyss of nothing. I sat on the wooden porch steps. Old, frail, out of date. Although I was alone, I hid my face. No one was there, no one was watching and yet I still felt vulnerable. So why was I laughing? I was laughing because of a joke. A joke that started with you, and ended with me. Here. I looked back at how happy I was, how foolish I was. I remembered how free I was. Free to be happy and carefree. I had no reason to be scared. No reason to think that I would lose what I needed most. I was laughing because I lived a lie. One made up by my optimism. I stood and entered the empty house through a squeaky old door. I closed it hard behind me. Every fragment of the small home reminded me of everything. The couch emitted the long nights we used to spend watching movies. The kitchens dry air masked the scent of past homemade cookies. I walked to the bathroom. It was clean. What else could I have done to get my mind off you? And now I feel bad for trying to
wash away the pain because that pain was a translation of memory. I looked at my messy, dark blonde hair, that hadn’t been combed in days. My navy blue eyes were so bloodshot that I could barely stand to look at them Because I feared to release a demon of remorse and hatred on myself and on you. I was laughing at myself because I was stupid. How could I think that it was going to end happily? I wanted you there. I needed you there. You had always been there. And that’s when I remembered everything. Everything you had done for me. I cried harder, I laughed louder. My trembling hands clenched. My tears fell faster, racing to escape my anger burned face. My breaths became short and broke into coughs and sobs. My head pounded with every memory that ran through my brain. Almost as if a hammer was being taken to my skull. I couldn’t take it! But I didn’t want it to stop. Because I didn’t want to forget. I was laughing with tears. Unwilling to stop. Tears unwilling to stop because of you. You left, and I lost you. The crazy thing is, I’m still laughing. Because I find it funny, that I haven’t stopped crying.
Untitled (Jacob)
Constellation of Dust
(Raegan White)
You can make a hundred different things Out of dust. Any dirty surface or Any field Has the potential of creating A vibrant image. Out of the same dust So many pictures can Come forth. A blooming bluebonnet is just as likely To appear As a vicious vampire. The ground can become a Bibliography of sights Or wonder, If you let your imagination Take flight. An insane old geezer or A fair-haired maiden Come from the same dust as The drunken, newly divorced man And the schoolteacher who has nothing to hide.
We are all from the same dust, So why do injustice and prejudice Reign our society? We all come from dust, And to dust, we will return; Holding nothing in our hands But the things we have thought, The word we have said, And the actions we have performed.
Building
(Andrew Bau)
Family Vacation
(Zachary Lopez)
Everyone needs a break occasionally, and for a man who works 50 hours a week trapped in a cubical, what better place to go than to a secluded cabin with the family. After 20 years of constant work, my wife and I have begun to slowly float apart. When our little girl, Amy, was born almost a year ago, she became the current that broke the dam. All I wanted was this trip to fix our relationship. I loved Alya more than anything and I couldn’t stand thinking about being without her. But sometimes I feel “Jesus Christ Killian move your ass, we were supposed to already be an hour on the road already. Can’t you hurry up for once in your life?” I slipped on my boots and jogged out to Alya standing by the car pacing back and forth with a clenched fist. She turned and her eyes were like that of a bull, dark and empty. I slipped into the driver seat of our car as quietly as possible, as if Amy was a bomb that could explode in tears at any moment. She got this way any time Alya was around, but I couldn’t quite put my finger it. We started the drive to Colorado from New Mexico, everything was bland and seemed to blend together as I passed by countless shrubs and dirt devils. I could feel the rage from Alya emanate across the seats as we drove longer and longer. She began to shift back and forth, as if she was about to rip the car door off and jump out. She swiveled her head and looked back at Amy, I thought I saw her bite her lip, like she was stopping herself from something.
“ Hey, are you hungry? There’s a Wendy’s up ahead and we can get some formula into the little one.” The weather was starting to change from a dry nasty heat to the arctic nature of Colorado. “Yeah sure, I could use some food I guess. I need to walk around and clear my mind.” Alya stepped out of the car door almost instantaneously as I stopped. She flung her seatbelt back and weightlessly jumped out of the car. I heard Amy whimper, her eyes locked with mine. I heard what I thought would be Amy’s voice in my head, she seemed to plead and beg me to turn around and go back to the safe warm home of New Mexico. I got out and unstrapped Amy from her car seat and slung the baby bag over my shoulder. I never got any support from Alya, ever. Every time I handed our sweet creation to her she would flinch and grind her teeth. I never understood this but learned to cope with it. I loved her so much, I couldn’t ever leave her. I could see Alya in front of the restaurant pacing back and forth. She looked to be talking to herself, or some unseen friend that I just couldn’t see. I looked at Amy and saw a toothless grin start to form from her mouth. Considering Alya was a stay at home mom, she was usually there for Amy until I got home around 7 at night. I’d usually come home to Amy in her crib, sleeping her little worries away. Alya would sit there watching her for hours, I knew that she always wanted a baby of her own and would talk non-stop about it whenever we married so I thought nothing of it. Throughout our lunch, Alya picked and played with her food. Her eyes seemed to caresses Amy. She didn’t once look at me or even up at the waitress whenever she came around. I
chalked this up to being tired, I didn’t want to stir anything up by questioning her. I still have a mark on my throat from the last time I questioned her. “Hey Honey, are you remembering to feed Amy every five hours? She’s looking a little famished.” “What? Are you saying that I can’t take care of our child? I’m the one who’s there for her every single day while you are at work sitting in that cubical like an idiot slacking off and doing nothing but wasting your life away, just like it should be.” Her arm cocked back and her hand spread open. She brought her nails across my neck before I could even react causing my neck to have three long gashes across it, afterwards I ended up just locking her in our bedroom while I went and got Amy and left for a week. She wouldn’t stop calling my phone telling me how sorry she was. It got to the point where I just buckled and went back. I loved her so much. “Hey Kil, you gonna get that?” Alya pushed the check over and pierced me with those dark brown eyes of hers. I called the waitress over and gave over the check, she did a double take as I looked at her, like she saw something calling for help in me. Alya seemed to notice this and kicked me under the table. “Really? I’m sitting right here. At least flirt with other people when I’m not around you ass.” I couldn’t do anything but sit there and hang my head, Amy started to fuss in her seat. I got her out and headed to the car. The trip still had about 3 hours left in it, and I couldn’t help but feel like this was a terrible idea. We started to hit the snow trails early, it looked as if a blizzard was starting. I checked the weather before we left and we shouldn’t have run in to a ton of snow much less a blizzard. I looked over to Alya to voice my concerns, but the smile on her
face stopped me. It was the same smile that she had after she attacked me. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A bubble rose in my stomach up to my throat, I looked back at Amy in the review mirror and she seemed to lock eyes with me. I could see her eyes plead. Why did she seem so worried? She emulated the eyes of a dog in a shelter. The knowledge of pain and suffering only one in her place could understand, yet she was so young. My fear of something going on while I was at work began to appear. After thirty minutes of driving, I couldn’t even see the hood of the car in front of me. Luckily, we were the only people that have been on the road that I’ve seen for twenty or so miles. I tried to push on but I had to succumb to the storm. As I pulled over to the side of the road, I noticed a small giggle come from Alya, or maybe it was Amy, I couldn’t exactly tell until I looked over at Alya and noticed her smile grew even wider. This wasn’t the smile I fell in love with, it looked exaggerated, as if the more she smiled the more her skin stretched to compensate. Her teeth seemed to transform from dull blunt teeth to sharp serrated fangs. She turned her head and instantly shut her mouth and seemed to snap out of some sort of trance. “Hey Kil, while we’re waiting here for the storm to blow over, why don’t we try and get some rest so we can go explore the mountains once we make it to the cabin?” She didn’t even wait for my response, instead she unbuckled her seatbelt and flipped over on her right side. I looked back at Amy to see how she was doing and she looked fast asleep. I saw no harm in resting, I have been driving for 6 hours so I might as well take a quick snooze. I woke up around dusk feeling disoriented. The snow seemed to have stopped outside but due to the car being off the inside was freezing. I flipped over in my seat to check on Amy
and Alya but all that I found were empty seats. I felt my world start to spin, everything started to blur and I felt as if I was still sleeping and this was nothing but a nightmare. I tried to steady myself and think of a solution. I scanned the area and noticed that the back door of the car was open, the straps are the car seat seemed to be torn off. I stumbled outside and noticed footprints leading off into the forest, along with a crimson trail of blotches following it. Stumbling, I managed to follow the trail until the footprints that matched Alya’s shoes morphed into long slender footprints that seemed to skinny to even be true. The blood started to become more frequent and I could hear cries off in the distant. I lifted my shirt and drew my handgun that I carried. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t even cock the gun. My mind raced with possibility as I continued to shamble towards the cries. As the cries grew louder, I saw something laying in the snow off in the distance. It was small, almost unnoticeable. That’s when I realized I saw the same flower pattern of Amy’s onesie. I felt a stream of heat flow down from my eyes, I could taste the salt as it hit my lips. I was frozen with fear where I stood. I slowly began to clump towards what I hoped was just a coincidence. What I saw overcame me. I saw Amy, parts of Amy, strewn across the snow. Her limbs seemed to have a chunk taken out of them like someone ravaged her, each limb was in its own pool of blood. It smelled as if a refrigerator full of meat had been turned off for a week. I felt my food come up and out onto the snow. I couldn’t bear to look anymore but I felt it necessary to figure out what happened. The first thing I noticed was that her head was missing. Whatever got Amy had taken it, but left the limbs and torso littered in the snow. I couldn’t wrap my head around this situation, what could have possible ripped my poor baby apart
and just take the head. I heard a scream come from maybe a hundred yards from me. I took one last look at Amy and headed off towards the scream. The screaming became more vicious and contorted into laughter, it sent bone rending chills down my spine. It didn’t sound like any bear or animal I’ve ever heard of. All I could do was continue to half jog towards this sound, my mind was telling me to turn around, get into the car and never came back, but my father instinct was telling me to revenge my sweet innocent child. The laughter got louder and louder and I finally saw what was making the horrid noises. There in the middle of an open field sat a creature who was about six feet tall even when scrunching down over something I couldn’t see. I raised my gun and approached whatever it was. Its dark leather like skin wrapped around its bones. You could see each vertebra protruding from its back, this things arms were like trees themselves, the elbow rested on the red snow as made chomping motions with its head. It had strips of blonde hair coming down from its head, it reminded me of Alya. I noticed Alya’s clothes were on the snow next to this creature and I couldn’t help but think the worse. This thing, this monstrosity had dismembered my baby and is now eating my wife. I did the only thing I could think of doing, stopping it. “ What the hell are you? And what did you do with Alya and Amy you-you monster! Raise your hands or I’ll shoot!” This thing turned around slowly, revealing a face that made me drop my weapon. Its eyes were completely black, its nose was smashed in like a pigs, and its smile. Good God its smile. The teeth covered the entire lower half of the creature’s face, they were long, sharp, and stained with blood. It looked at me and started to turn and square up with me, it had to at least be twelve feet tall, if not more. The creature had no clothes on, re-
vealing its protruding bones all over its body. I noticed something on this thing, a tattoo of a cross above its breasts. This was identical to the tattoo Alya had, at that moment I realized that it was holding something in its elongated fingers. The face of Amy was barely recognizable, with the little amount of skin and muscle left on it I would have never been able to tell if it wasn’t for what I saw earlier. Was this really Alya though? My sweet loving wife could have never turned into this monstrosity, there’s no way. I had a million thoughts whirling through my head at the moment, but before I could even do anything this thing let out a deafening yell and leaped towards me. This thing, or I guess Alya, covered fifty feet in a single leap and was inches away from my face. I slowly began to embrace the thought of being torn to pieces. I could feel it’s warm disgusting breath slowly cover my face and it began to sniff around me. It let out another yell and turned away from me and started to leap and crawl away slowly. The only thing I could think was get back to the car and get to help. As soon as it reached the tree line I turned and ran. I ran as fast as possible and didn’t stop. I looked back after running what felt like was forever to see something whoosh from tree to tree in the distance. I could only make out its size, and it was Alya again. I turn and ran, I tried to focus on maintaining my balance and not tripping over things covered in the snow. I was about fifty feet from salvation, and I knew that as soon as I got to the car I could leave and get help and everything would be okay. I looked back and the creature was growing closer and closer. I pushed through the fire in my legs and lungs and finally made it to the car. I got in and started the car as fast I could. The creature leapt and landed right in front of the car and seemed to lean
to where I could see its face and opened its mouth. It began to speak in a distorted voice. “I’m sorry Kil, just come out and we can fix this. I never meant to hurt you or Amy. I only wanted to strip the very flesh off your bones and see what it tasted like “ I couldn’t believe that it was Alya, she turned into this monster. My throat started to close up and I couldn’t control my breathing. This thing made its way towards the driver side window and let out one more yell before I slammed on the gas. I didn’t have the heart to look back, I couldn’t. Everything that I knew had just evaporated before my very eyes. I had to go seek help. I made my way back towards the Wendy’s that was only an hour away. My whole body felt numb, even my thoughts were vacant. There was nothing I could do at the moment besides drive and hope. After many years of therapy, I started to be able to go out and meet people again. In fact, I met an amazing woman, Marie, who had a child that looked just like Amy. She was very sweet and really cared for me. She sometimes was an idiot though. She questioned me. I was the stay at home dad who did everything for our little May. Yet I knew that she still had an underlying fear of me. I only beat her when she made stupid comments. She worked at a hospital so she was gone all day and some nights, which was perfect. May was the most delicious looking baby I have ever met. When winter rolled around, I couldn’t help my smile and ask my new partner if we could make a trip up to Colorado for a vacation. I couldn’t wait to see what May tasted like.
Red
(Paige Erickson)
Untitled
(David Hoseney)
Cataclysm
(Hannah Mailhos) She closed her eyes and all she saw was war. Bloody, chaotic, beautiful war. She walked barefoot on a battlefield riddled with corpses, the slain men wearing bloodied smiles - and she knew that was her destiny. A stained sky reflected the pools of scarlet below, and from across the field, she spotted her lover - dressed in black helping the sputtering, suffering men find peace in darkness. Together they were an unstoppable force; together they became justice, love, and the wrath of the gods. When her eyes fluttered open, she was sitting alone on her bed, her face flushed, her pulse racing, and her heart longing for the battlefield - for him.
Touch (G.M. Galloway) She’s numb to his voice. Numb to his stares. Numb to his familiar poignant smell. She’s numb to everything but his touch. It reaches past her outer most layers and twists at her guts. His touch lights up her skin with some evil sort goosebumps. She watches him try to reach her. His words attempt to push through her barriers, but she won’t let them. She sees him fighting for eye contact, but she won’t give it to him. He’s close enough to her now that if she closed her eyes, it’d smell like their first encounter. But she’s done backtracking. She can’t do that to herself. She throws loathing remarks at him hoping to singe, but all she gets is a look of utter pity. She doesn’t fall for it. He doesn’t get to feel bad for her. He doesn’t get to do that anymore. He sees her leaving and she hopes he lets her go. But then there’s that touch. His hand hovers over her back until his hand grazes her shoulder blade. Nothing gets past her; she’s immune; he doesn’t phase her, but his hand pressing in attempt to comfort… that’s what gets her. That’s what she fell for and that’s what she’ll continue to tumble for.
Memory Lane
(Alexandra Allen)
Envelope
(Madison Butler) “Just a black coffee, please.” The barista nodded and I handed her $3. I turned to wait for my cup. I tapped my foot on the brown cement and then looked up when the barista called out a name that wasn’t mine. I locked eyes with a boy, blue eyes and beautiful. My cheeks turned red and I looked down again. Finally, my name was called and I grabbed the coffee. I sat near a window. I knew he liked being by the window. The man walked in and sat across from me. His hair was greying, a beard that he didn’t want to shave. His plaid shirt was stained on the left pocket. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He fidgeted and looked around him. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked. He finally looked up at me. He shook his head. “Just take the envelope.” He muttered, the white rectangle slid over to me. I sighed. “I don’t want the money.” “You need it.” “So do you.” I could see he was getting agitated- his lips spread into a thin line, he let out a deep breath through his nose. He shifted in his seat and rung his hands. “Dad,” I took a deep breath. “I know you’re hurting-“ “I’m fine.” He said, his voice hard and cold. He was doing that freezing out thing. “I’m pregnant.” I said suddenly. That would certainly break the tension.
He looked up, I could see a hint of shock there. “How long have you known?” “Two months. Jess is happy.” He nodded. “Jess... How is the husband?” There was resentment there. “Good. Worried about raising a child.” “It’s harder than anyone thinks.” There was a silence. “Dad... I know I haven’t been around...after mom died-” “It’s not your fault.” “No, it is. I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.” “We both were dealing with grief in our own ways.” “It doesn’t matter.” He took the envelope again, playing with the paper. “I’m not upset that you needed time alone. Everyone needs space at one point or another.” He paused. “But I thought I would at least be there to walk you down the aisle.” It broke my heart to hear that from him. A man that never showed emotion, never liked to be happy, always something to complain about- he was breaking now. “How did you find out?” “Find out what?” “About Jess.” He nodded to my left hand. “I’m not bright, but I’m not stupid either.” The ring was huge. I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. “Dad, I’m so sorry...I just...” My eyes swelled with tears. “Every time I look at you, I see her.” His eyes brimmed with tears too and he looked down. “Doesn’t mean you get to throw me away. I raised you.” I nodded. “I know. You don’t deserve how I treated you.”
“I mean,” He continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “That husband of yours never even asked my permission to marry you!” “He wanted to.” I nodded. “But I told him we hadn’t talked in years and it would be...” Painful? Pointless? I felt like both words fit the blank. “Freya.” I looked up at him. “Do you really think I would turn you away if your future husband had come asking for a blessing?” He laughed. “I would have been thrilled! I would have treated him like a son.” The word slipped out of his mouth and we both grew quiet, both couldn’t bear to look at each other. “Have you been... to see Robbie?” I asked. Dad shook his head. “I can’t bear to look at him anymore.” He had been in a coma for 6 years. Everyone had given up hope. “Maybe we should...let him die now. The machines are just keeping his heart beating. Nothing more.” I said quietly. He looked up at me like I had committed some awful crime. “Now, I would never expect you to say something like that.” I looked down, a twisted guilty feeling hit my stomach. “It’s just been so long, he has less than a 1% chance of coming back.” “No,” He shook his head. “I can’t lose another one of you. As long as his heart keeps beating- we won’t touch him.” I nodded. He pushed the envelope toward me. “Here is the money you asked for.” I felt guilty for calling him, when we hadn’t spoken in so long. I only wanted to see him because I needed money. Jess and I had no money and my father was loaded. I had almost backed out, but I had to take it. I grabbed it after a few seconds, my hand shaking slightly and then I got up. “Bye dad.” I left without glancing back and realized I had forgotten my coffee. When I got into my car, I broke down. I put my hand on my keys
to turn the engine on, and then put my hand on the door handle. What do I do? I opened the envelope and found the $50,000 that I needed. But there was something else. 2 letters. I opened one and saw that it was my father’s writing. Dear Freya, Here is the money you asked for. I don’t know what has happened over the past 5 years, but you’ve changed. I never expected you to do something like this. I love you more than words can say, so I have given you what you need, but I am sorry that it is in this way. I will always take care of you, no matter how long we haven’t talked. I hope this helps you. Love, Dad I couldn’t bear to open the other one. I opened the car door and rushed back to the coffee shop, but he was gone. I was aloneand it was my fault.
Chipmunk
(Paige Erickson)
I Stopped Praying to God About Us (Alana Teas)
I stopped praying to God about us I would beg Him for you to take me back in your life I would cry with my eyes shut, looking for a way to make you see a future with me I would question Him, wondering if these were His intentions I would scream with my voice completely mute, hoping you could make out my cries You must’ve heard me You came back, not the way I wanted, but having you nonetheless was good enough for me Even then, I had hoped for something more You told me you wanted to be friends again, that you missed us But those were simply words to which you did not hold meaning in You are a coward
I thought maybe you could change, maybe you were finally ready But you chose to ran away from your problems like you always did I wanted so badly for me to be the one to make you stay But in the end, I think I knew we always had an expiration date You still do not see We have not spoken for quite some time now You have not made an effort, and I have grown tired of giving you every ounce of my being I should’ve known this would be our end result And even after all your carelessness, you had the audacity to ask me why I stopped praying to God about us
Untitled
(Aaron Dandridge)
Colour Girl (Bridgit Techsendorf) I sat on the doctor’s examining table staring at my grey converse. Looking up as the door clicks open as the doctor comes into the cold room, I pull on the sleeves of my hoodie. I glance at my mom, hoping that she or the doctor would know what’s wrong with me. The doctor breaks the silence, coughing into his fist. “Well, her vision seems to be fine. The current glasses prescription is treating her well and her retinas and optics are fully matured.” He looked up from his clipboard, “How old are you Ms. Choi?” “Seventeen this past July.” I responded. “I see, maybe you’re just a tad late?” The doctor said “discreetly” giving a concerned glance to my mother. She nods, “Maybe” Just maybe. “Maybe” is just a word people use to let you down easy. A bit of hope in your grayscale world. But in reality, you will never get what you desire. I was born on my mother’s “colour day.” What is a colour day? When a baby is born, they see in black and white. Then, on one lucky, random day between your fifth and sixteenth birthday, you receive the gift of colour. I couldn’t help but feel pressured for those twelve years, I was born on my mom’s colour day, her first child. Yet, by the time I turned sixteen I still couldn’t see colour. I didn’t want to let my family, especially my mother down, so I lied. I said that I could finally see colour. Her daughter named “full of colour” could finally see the world. The lie
had lasted for five months, until I failed my colours test in art class. I can vividly remember the pain of disappointment in her eyes, on her face. Both my brothers could see colour. I remember how excited Searan was. The usually quiet, isolated kid practically catapulted himself down the stairs that morning yelling that his hair was dyed red and “Why did Saeyoung give me pink pajama pants!” I looked to Saeyoung who was snickering into his bowl of cereal. I couldn’t help but laugh with him, “Pink looks good on you Searan.” But I didn’t know what pink was, what it looked like. Saeyoung had received his gift on his and Searan’s birthday two weeks before and insisted that he and Searan dye their red. Searan of course, wasn’t very happy that Saeyoung had gotten it first. I remember his pouted face sitting in the bathroom as I plastered the dye in his hair. “Just because Saeyoung is five minutes older doesn’t mean that he should get all the cool stuff first.” (I wound up dying his hair first to keep him from being a sour mess for the rest of his birthday.) Months later when Saeyoung had asked me what my favorite colour was, my mom glared at me, a look in her eyes that said, “If you don’t tell the kid the truth you are going to be in so much trouble.” Saying that Saeyoung was upset was an understatement. He was devastated. Furious. He pushed me away, locked himself in his room. I had a pinging sense of guilt, I treasured my family more than anything and I felt like they didn’t treasure me. At the age of eighteen I finally accepted my fate, a girl who’s name was colourful would be forever trapped in a prison of black and white. _______ I walked through the busy city streets, pushing my way through
the black and white sea of people enveloped in their jobs, their phones, their colour filled lives. Misplaced on the corner of high fashion outlets and business buildings, the small art shop stood out. As I entered I waved to Jihyun, the shop’s owner, and make my way to my usual spot, the paint shelves. The best thing about Jihyun’s shop is that everything is custom and handmade. All of the paints are stored in small jars and there were shelves upon shelves of them. I rummaged through my purse for the list my brothers gave me, each colour associated with a number. Number six-hundred and twenty was for the sky, number seventy-six for grass, and number seven hundred and seven for the colour of my brothers’ hair. I began to take jars of paint from the shelves and placed them in my bag. In about five minutes I had accumulated twenty jars in my bag and another three balanced in my hand. I glanced at the list in my other hand and scanned the list to make sure I didn’t miss any paints on my list. The last colour I needed was one I could see, number zero-zero-one, black. In Jihyun’s shop the base colours like black, grey and white were stored on the top shelf. I huffed and put the jars from my hand into my bag. The stool that was usually conveniently placed is nowhere in sight, so I stand on my toes and stretch for two jars of black paint. My fingers finally brushed the cool surface of the jar. I carefully scooted the jar forward and smiled in accomplishment as I placed the jars into my bag. I looked through my bag making sure I had everything I came for. My eyes scanned the shelves for the one paint that I had forgotten, number six-eighty-four, “Midnight Eyes,” a dark blue colour according to Searan. I reached for two jars of the colour and turned around, bound for the checkout. The jars in my hand fell to the floor with a shatter. I whipped around looking angrily at the person who ran into me, “Hey! Watch where
you’re going!” As my eyes met the man’s in front of me, clouds of colour began to flood my vision. I gasped as I looked at him and then to the puddle of paint on the floor. A concerned look was on his face, “Are you ok?” I didn’t answer, in stead I blurted out, “What colour are your eyes?” Flustered and regretting my sudden outburst I covered my mouth in embarrassment. “Uh… Blue?” He said unsurely, raising an eyebrow. “Six-eighty-four.” I muttered. “Midnight eyes.” “Pardon?” He asked tilting his head of dark hair. “N-Nothing, It’s just. I, you. Colour…” I began to cry. I sat myself down in the middle of Jihyun’s shop and cried. I could feel the other customers looking at me curiously. I looked at the blurry puddle of paint, the dark blue mixing with the bland black and white. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked again, looking deeply concerned and a bit embarrassed, “Did you get glass on you? Do I need to get the owner?” I shook my head and stood up, brushing off my skirt and smiled. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” I hugged the stranger. “Uh… You’re welcome? I don’t think I did anything but make you drop paint and stain your nice skirt.” He said hesitantly with a nervous laugh. I jumped realizing what I’d done. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry, I probably made you twelve different levels of uncomfortable. Some crazy girl who just cried in a puddle of paint just hugged you, a random person. I am so, so sorry.” I said, wanting to burry my face into my long maroon dyed hair and escape. Or at least I thought that it’s maroon. What did maroon even look like?
He laughed a little, “I mean, it was pretty strange but I’m guessing you’ve never seen colour before?” “I–uh… no.” I said looking at the ground. I don’t know why all the sudden running into this guy made me see colour. I was eighteen, two years past the time of having a colour day. So why did this happen? “Hey, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy your paint for you.” He offered, easily reaching the jars of black, white, and blue. Why was he being so nice to me? I made him look like a huge dork in the middle of an art store. “No, no, no, you don’t have to do that.” I stuttered. “I should have to buy something for you after my whole… act.” “Ok, how about I buy your paint and you buy me a set of charcoal pencils.” He said, waving over a passing employee to clean up the broken glass. “Deal?” “Deal.” _______ We walked out of Jihyun’s shop laughing. “Ok. But the look on your face!” He laughed hysterically. “Hey! It was my first time seeing colour what’d you expect!” I defended, elbowing him in the arm. “Alright, I’ll give you that I guess.” He shrugged. “So what’s your name colour girl?” “Don’t call me that.” I blushed, glaring at him. He put his hands up in surrender, “Ok. Ok.” “It’s Chaeyoung, but my family and friends call me Chae or Grey.” I laugh. “Grey?” He remarked, shocked by my nickname, “Isn’t that rude? I mean you couldn’t see colour!” “It’s fine, my best friend came up with it in middle school. All during high-school I was “Chae-grey.” I said as we crossed the
street. “I personally think that colour girl is better.” He said chuckling. “Sure, whatever.” I said, “And what might your name be Mr. “Midnight Eyes.” I asked. “Midnight Eyes?” He smirked, “Isn’t it too early for pet names?” “It is not a pet name!” I yelled, blushing. “Just tell me your name.” “Jimin.” He answered. This guy sure had some ‘tude, a teasing yet charming attitude. I had only known him for about an hour. “Hey, I’ll uh… put my number in my phone if that’s ok with you. Not to be super foreword. You’re pretty cool and I’d like to get to know you.” Jimin said. “Why not.” I thought to myself. I handed him my phone. “I went ahead and sent myself a message so I have your number in mine. See you later then?” He said handing back my phone. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” I watched as he jogged off catching a taxi. I smiled to myself as I continued my walk home. I pulled my phone out of my skirt’s pocket. I rolled my eyes as I saw a new message. From: Midnight Eyes Hey, colour girl :)
Untitled (Alyssa Ferguson) I wish for you to see the world through my eyes The joy The love The laughs In everyday life Your mind was like an ocean Clouded by blue eyes Distorting your reflection Bouncing in the light
Untitled (Anonymous)
First Creation (Chrissy Fitch)
How School Measures Us (Rylee Rebman)
I It seems we are ranked N Not based on our intelligence but T The amount of E Effort we put into L Learning while still being able to L Laugh and live E Each day and not be C Consumed by our school work and pressure of T The numbers
The Girl (Sam Griffin) The tall young girl sat on the couch, hurt and afraid. Her blue eyes communicated her struggle, and her thin figure portrayed her pain. She spoke with a shake in her voice, painful and chilling. She spoke of her endless journey that did not yet reach far, with the anchor of her father and the forceful winds of society. She spoke of her worries, the worries that kept her from her desires. The worries that led her to the conclusion of not having kids, all because of the worry that they would look like her, bringing her back the pain of her past. She spoke with such a pain that would fill the room with silence. She spoke of ending her life. But most of all, she spoke with her beautiful soul that society refused to see as valid. In truth, she was another girl that had to work her way to be seen as one.
The Golden Pages (Olivia Smith)
The ancient-looking wooden door groaned as I tested its hinges and pushed it open. The smell of time filled my nasal cavity as I absorbed the beauty of the room in front of me. Delicately carved oak bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling. A grand spiraling staircase twisted upwards to a second story, its walls graced with the same bookshelves. I inched into the room, my toes hanging over the edge of the doorway. An old desk caught my eye, papers scattered in a frenzy and books stacked to wobbling heights. I made my way towards the desk, appreciating the exquisitely crafted leather high-backed chairs placed on an extravagantly large rug. Although no soul was seen, an inviting fire was lit ablaze in the safety of the fireplace, letting its soft, warm glow spill through the room. I sat myself down in the worn-down chair behind the desk, feeling the aged leather slide under my palms. Among the array of stories strewn across the desktop, I found a very old book. As I opened it, all oxygen abandoned my lungs as the words began to peel from the pages. Letters spun around and around, dancing through the air. My mouth gaped in disbelief while I blinked furiously, positive that I was imagining things. But, when I opened my eyes, every time, the letters were still there, soaring and swooping all around me. The black ink began to glow with a golden hue, filling the room with angelic light. All too suddenly, soft saxophone tunes flooded my ears, making me flinch in surprise. Over the music, the smooth, velvety voice of Frank Sinatra rang throughout the room. In confusion, I looked away from the letters, and standing at the top of the stairs was a man, weathered with age, his blue eyes sparkling with an otherworldly delight. “This is my story,” he called over Sinatra’s singing. “Would you like to hear it?”
Once Upon a Time (Janay Johnson) Lost my trust awhile ago Lost my faith like 8 months ago Lost some family Lost some friends Where I lost myself is where the story begins
State of Mind (Abby Askenasy)
Slithery Little Snake (Brooklyn Bailey)
Peyton felt the mini-bumps of the concrete rub against her drawing hand. The people around her became a blur. Her mind escaped earth and ran away to another world. Eyes are glued to the drawings of things unknown. Her hand was now still. Her mind is back from it’s trip. The drawings were good, but not good enough. “color!” she thought The unknown drawings were filled with yellow, red, purple, and many other colors. Finally, the sidewalk creatures came to life
Splash of Color (Nicole L.)
I See America Fall (Klavdia Fledman)
I see America fall Underneath my feet President can’t seem to meet The needs of everybody here The harder she tries, The faster she falls Whatever happened? To God or the standards Our Founding Fathers made up And put here for us We used to work hard But now we give up The only way out is to get up To achieve the greatness we once had We have to think about God and the flag My final words is to you this “America is nothing without the people or God.”
Untitled
(Katie Roosa)
My Father’s Heart (Anonymous)
My fathers heart is full of love Even if it’s not for me My brothers hearts are young He’s not yet broken theirs I don’t think he ever will He never once wanted a daughter He wished all my life that I’d suddenly become like a son He spent all of his life trying Trying Not to become his father He ended up exactly like him
The Blue Blanket (Zachary Lopez)
The phone rang like a tornado siren throughout the car. The serene night air thickened into a suffocating grip. On the other end of the call, my Grandmother pleaded me to come to the hospital and that my Mother, who had been cleaning earlier that morning, was now held prisoner by the cold grasp of sickness. My skin began to form goosebumps, the air around me began to grow frigid as the possibilities flooded into my brain. My stomach lurched to and fro like a ship on an angry sea, and I was the captain. Human nature took over and I went on autopilot towards Del Sol Hospital. As I wove through the cars on the interstate, Simon and Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence “echoed through my body. I could recite the lyrics in my sleep, but now they seemed alien. After parking the car in the nearest spot, I bolted towards the entrance ignoring the friendly greetings of the receptionist. “Where is Miss Nadine’s room?” I stammered out before being within talking range of the woman-who looked like she was suffering-behind the desk. “She is located in room 308 in our ICU unit. Let me know if you-“I cut her off before she could finish and stammered to the elevator. ICU kept ringing in my head like a fly made its home in my head. I felt as if I was encapsulated in a tomb of sand, every limb moved in slow-motion. Getting to the room felt as if many centuries slipped away, while really it took me a minute to get from the car to the room. Laying there covered by blue blankets, my mother laid there without movement. Her eyes scanned every pore of my skin and every thread in my clothes before she finally made any sense
of recognition. As she slid up her bed with the support of my Grandmother, her mouth opened to a slit, but she grimaced and stopped. She hung her head as I came around the bedside and took her hand into mine. Her hand was frigid, it was almost painful to hold. Her face seemed to scream outwards, I could tell she had many things to say, but couldn’t. Her eyes began to well up with tears and she outstretched her hands and waited for my embrace. Her heart beat in a discord, I could feel her lungs fight for every inhale of life she took. I pulled away as my tears wet the blue blanket draped over her. Blue gave off a sense of hope, but I knew that it was lying to me. Life without my mother seemed to hit me like a tsunami against rocks. Knowing that she would never see me in a wedding dress, never see her grandchild grow up to be strikingly similar. Seeing her grandchild snort the same way Grandma, her, and I do every time we laugh for too long. Those thoughts lingered in my head for too long. I couldn’t take the thought and I tried to escape their grasp but my attempt was futile. I would not have a mother in my life anymore and I needed to accept that. “Mom, I’m sorry for all the times I acted rebellious. I’m sorry for seeing the guy you told me was horrible when I was 16, he ended up breaking my heart, just like you said. I’m sorry for all the times we fought over stupid things. I’m sorry for not telling you I love you more. I’m sorry I’m sorry.” My mother looked at me, she said words that have been engrained within every inch of my soul, “Honey, you are my world. I cannot remember a day that joy was absent with you. You have grown into an amazing woman and I cannot wait to see you again. Stand tall and never give up. Tell your future children that grandma always loved them. Megan, Always remember, I love you. Fulfil your dreams sweetheart.” Snot began to flow out of my nose and tears began to flow
down my face and crash onto the blanket. I clutched my mother’s hand and noticed that there was no reciprocation. I looked up and wiped the hazy water that blocked my vision. Her eyes were shut, a slight smile was curling from her mouth and her chest laid dormant. I heard the flatline and saw my grandmother crash into the seat parallel to me. I moved away from her body and laid a hand on her foot. The doctors came rushing in and did their best to save her, but it yielded no results. The texture of the soft blue blanket juxtaposed the sharpness of pain I felt. When I made it back to my dorm, my feelings were numb. I felt no emotion, no happiness, no sadness, nothing. I curled up in my bed, clutching a blue blanket that seemed radiate a sense of hope. I knew this was nothing but lies and cast away the blanket from my bed and fell asleep, hoping that I would wake up and this would all just be a nightmare. I dreamt that a child ran up to me and gave me a hug. His eyes matched my own, and he definitely had my nose. “Thanks for the sweater mommy, you’re the best!” His grin could illuminate the night sky. He wore a blue sweater, though it hung down from his arms quite far, like it was the best piece of clothing he ever had. I felt my heart begin to tighten and my tears started to cascade down my face. He ran off and held someone’s hand, the man looked at me and smiled. I woke up the next morning to a damp pillow. The blanket was still on the floor, but next to it was blue yarn and a threading needle. I have never owned a sowing kit, much less attempted sowing ever before. My confusion seemed to dissipate as I remembered my dream. I took this as a sign from my mother, I needed to pass down the love that she had for me. I held the items cautiously and took the threading needle and began to try and sow, only to prick myself. A dark vermillion began to rise out and flow down the tip of my finger.
Melancholic (Isabela Uribe)
MAMA, MAMA- I’M THROUGH. (Addison Davis)
Hatching in the April sun Fertile crescent, loaded gun The world is yours, baby. Don’t stop for no one. Lock your tongue but never show it. Lock your gun, or better-throw it. You’re full of shit, baby. I love you but know it.
Ignorance In Blackjack (Sarah Ulery) The dealer tosses faded cards down to His table. Players stare, eyes hungry, bright With high hopes. Hands reach for their two-card plight As if they’re reaching early deaths, and through The smokey haze, they play out their first two. First, a thin, wired man, who holds his might. The dark-haired man direct right meets eyes -- fight. A knock, and he demands; a new cards cue. A top card landing before our new friend Ensures his double win. The dealer sighs But pays his due. Our victor stands to send The others luck, but not even he gets wind. The woman next does not fear her demise. While slipping half his win, her game now ends.
Untitled
(Hannah Boggs)
Freckles
(Edie Mahle)
Society v.s. You (Gabbie Wiley)
I see beauty in an ugly world, the light in the dark tunnel I see hope in a world that has lost so much, the willingness to go on when some chose to stand where they are. I see someone who is strong despite the world falling apart around them. The horrors of the human mind crushing society I see struggle as well, with the pressure of life crashing around you, but you still fight on because you won’t let the world ruin you Be the light in the dark world, be the hope that people lost a long time ago and stay strong no matter what happens, know it’s okay to hurt as well don’t let the world corrupt you. You are too beautiful for that ugliness
Falling For You Broke Me (Maddie Leader) it appears that i’m falling and it feels like i’m free diving as if i just jumped out of a plane that was so high in the sky i can’t hear anything around me my ears are ringing so loud my eyes glance down wishing i will see you but all i see is a black abyss i’m not seeing your arms they’re not spread wide ready to catch me i closed my eyes expecting the ground instead i sank down i was shaken awake because my screams were so loud it was just a nightmare one that left me in tears but it felt so real and i fell so hard that it broke me
Night Market
(Seth Storey)
Numbers
(Elizabeth Shugert) “Can I see some I.D.?” My date smiled politely up at the waitress as he pulled his driver’s license from his wallet. We were celebrating our second date at the local italian restaurant. My eyes trailed down to the card. Levi James Holten. He was one of the lucky ones to have a good I.D. picture. Smiling softly, I glanced at the number. And froze. 85463. A cursed number. This number has chased my family for as long as our history goes. These words were the only ones that raced through my mind as I noticed the numbers on my date’s ID. His thumb covered the remaining three numbers, but that’s irrelevant. Jumping from my seat, I ran as far as possible from the cursed number. I didn’t even look back to see how my date reacted. All the stories flashed through my mind as quickly as the streets blur by. 85,463 dollars of debt unable to be paid back caused the death of my great grandfather. No one ever found the killer. My aunt received a folded flag because her husband died
in action when his troop, 85, joined troop 463 to reinforce the front lines. Not even my parents escaped. Flight 85463 crashed with them trapped as doomed passengers. And now‌ my number was up. So full of panic, I never noticed the headlights aiming for me until I felt the pain. .oOo. Perhaps if I had just stayed in the restaurant, I wouldn’t have died. I go over the last details of my life over and over. I always come to the same question again and again. Did the curse kill me, or was it my own superstitious stupidity?
The Ferryman (Destiny Fitch)
The vessel to my destination has arrived. The boat, submerged in the water, moving forward but never moving back. The front end of the boat was curved upward into a spiral serpent of wooden pieces, each one their own shade of brown intertwining into the darkness of the shadows. The lamp, withholding the fire of hell to light us through, burned brightly within my eyes. The water was pitch black for the depths of my thoughts was all there was. There were unknown creatures within it, for I knew not to place my hand on the surface. To have my worst nightmare reach up to grab me and pull me under was all that was keeping me within one spot. There was nothing behind or forward of us. Him and I, the Ferryman, standing side by side, moving forward in the abyss of my soul. The water was as silent as we were but yet, my mind filled with wonder at where I could be. I knew I would not be able to go back to where I once was, to who I once was. That part of me is gone now, as I had to pay the Ferryman to take me to my rightful place in this world. His robe, gray as the hair upon the elderly waiting for a chance to cross the river. His face absent, for the silhouette of his hood covers his identity. To have to count my blessings for my loved ones have
made sure I would be able to fully get to the other side and not have to worry about being stuck in the limbo that is this underworld. Time is nonexistent within this place for no one has aged in centuries. I have seen the hand of god and the face of death. I do not know which path was chosen for me, nor do I want to know, for both paths withhold nightmares. I am more afraid to know what my path ends at than where I am at this frozen moment in time. I am afraid of time. Not knowing what the future holds, not being able to remember my past. My mind always replacing the truth with made up fantasies. However, here and now, in this abyss of my dead life, I will be judged, not upon my actions or words, but my soul and heart. Does it weigh down with grief or will it be equal to that of the judgment being placed upon it? My thoughts cloud my awareness but with a sudden pull forward I am back brought back. I have reached the beginning of my new path, I have reached my destination.
Tøffen (tough) (David Kleveland)
Lenadale, Iscariot, and Their Not So Simple Roles in the Universe (Sarah Ulery) The young girl with the hitch in her step walks home from an evening shift counting her tips, steps, and worries. The latter are significantly more numerous than the first. All the same, she sighs, plods on. Night air breathes on her neck, a threat she cannot shake. She tightens her coat. She takes a shortcut through an alley. You and I watch her from our universal window, our home warmed by the spitting fireplace. I can’t speak for you, but between the heat and the dwindling bottle of red wine on the poker table is enough to make my eyes itch, my limbs heavy, and my chest fuzzy. If I knew you wouldn’t prod me with the sharp toe of your shoe, I’d curl up on the rug in front of the fire like a hound and drift right off into sleep. Or something like sleep, at least. You and I, our minds don’t work like humans do; not only don’t we need sleep, we lack the physical ability to shut off control of our minds. A blessing, some humans would say. The gift of unhindered productivity. But the others, some like the girl we watch right now, would see the truth and see it like we do -- a curse. The mind needs, occasionally, to float as a leaf, still on the surface of a pond. Even you, who sees it as much more of an advantage, must admit I have a point. So my mind drifts like the snow that falls on the tip of the girl’s
nose. I crack a small smile when she wrinkles her face, paws the flake away. You shoot me a sideways dagger, but I don’t notice. Instead, I say, “What if we kept a dog?” You arch a sculpted brow. Doing so enunciates your cheeks, round, and smooth, and dark, perfect, the kind that would kindle jealousy in many of our creations. “A dog?” you ask, lip pulled back in disdain. “Like that?” You nod back to the window, back to the girl. She hurries out of the alleyway and across the street, where, sure enough, a creature begins to bark from the darkness. The girl spins around in the direction of the noise, her dark braid a long whip down her back. At the sight of a fence, she smooths her hair back, yanks the strap of her bag further up on her shoulder, and marches onward as if she’d never been phased. “Yes,” I reply. “A dog, like that. Preferably quieter, though. One which prefers sleeping by the fire rather than in the cold.” In one smooth motion, you roll your eyes and zoom closer on the mailbox of the barking house. “It’s the Peterson’s home,” you say. “Did you think anything enjoys the cold? They threw for another creation just about ten months ago. If there’s any space left in those two bedrooms, it’s taken up by the match and their four little ones.” I shake my head, sitting back in my chair. “That’s beside the point. This dog would just keep company -- and it’s not like we’ve not got room around here. All our creations are down there.” I point into the window with a bit too much force; the
trees bend in a gust of wind. “Calm down,” you snap. “And you’re besides the point. The point is Lenadale.” Lenadale -- the girl. You always call creations by their terra given name, but it’s all too complex for me. Too many girls named Sophia. Too many boys named Muhammed. Lenadale -- well, that one I remembered. Otherwise, I would’ve referred to her as Iscariot’s older sister. And with that, I tell you, “She’s not even the one who matters, and you know it. It’s her brother. Don’t you wonder what he’s doing now?” You brush me off with a wave of your hand. “Honey, please. If something were extremely wrong there, we’d feel it. We’ve been closely attuned with him for long enough. And as for Lena, she’s close to him, possibly the closest. You’re the one who blabbers on and on about how our creations are a web of our world, or something along those lines. All I’m saying is that while some are closer to the center than others, that doesn’t make them any less useful.” I laugh at that. “But you say all the time how some are more important than others.” “There’s a difference between more useful and more important.” “Explain it, then,” I huff. You suck in a breath and let it go heavy. You nod back to Lenad-
ale, who sniffles as her frozen fingers fumble with the lock on her front door. “Lena here is useful because her brother is Iscariot. She’s less important than him because she’s not one of our prime creations, and therefore lacks the spark and originality that someone like her brother has. See? Simple-” Lenadale shoved the door open with her shoulder. As the ceiling light floods her flushed face, the earth jumps a second in time; I feel it in my stomach, you feel it in your head, and our creations feel it in their webs before we can contain it. The disturbance in the field cascades from our beings and trickles down through every single fingertip, and the world erupts. An earthquake in the Pacific causes a tsunami in California. A man in New York City hits send on an email to his supervisor, advising advancement in their destructive project. In Italy, kids sneaking into the Sistine Chapel fight for Michelangelo and the brain with cans of spray paint, and in Cairo, oil floods the sea. A battle erupts in Southern Africa, one hundred more people fall ill because of smog in Beijing, and in North Korea, the dictator is handed nuclear codes. But in South America, Venezuela and Columbia call ceasefire. Central Africa gets pouring rain. The British prime minister pardons an innocent man, and in Australia, a new species is discovered in the Great Barrier Reef. Russia unexpectedly opens its borders, an Indian charity is mysteriously left with a fortune of wealth, and in Florida, the young girl is accepted to the first step in her journey of making scientific breakthroughs. All because when Lenadale opens her front door, she finds her
little brother, Iscariot, crumpled on the living room floor. She drops her bag in the doorway when you and I momentarily drop our control on the universe. When we manage to take hold, but not command, the hour freezes, and it’s her, alone. She stumbles forward, trips over her own feet and lands on her knees next to her brother who, at age fifteen, looks like he’s twelve, like he’s dying -- which he, with his faint heartbeat, most likely is. But the world is not random, not completely. As Lena dials an emergency number and scrapes fingers through the carpet to find out what kind of pills her brother took, you and I are left, ultimately, in charge.
Self Portrait (Lisa N
LET US ALL REST (Addison Davis)
Today is the day of her end, Yet elevators rise and fall. Into the hour, seamstresses mend, Songbirds call-you can hear them call. The world works today, without her here. Stockbrokers shouting with fire in their veins, Stern men load their briefcase, nary a tear Prosecutors engorge on defendant’s remains. No, no please slow this pace, Give time for grieving, time for grace, The Earth yearns to meet her, but let it wait. Not on this tragic, swollen day. I’ve no will for moving along, Or wishful minutes to spend. The world doesn’t get to go on, Not on the day of her end.
The Healer
(Katie Orgunov)
DONE GLOBETROTTING (Addison Davis) I’ve been spinning the globe on my shaky middle finger for the past year, far and wide and wider still. I’ve found there is no little white house, no two kids with skin of beautiful in-between, no yours and no mine. The place we invented doesn’t exist.
A Special Thanks to... Editor: Sarah Ulery Submissions Team: Izzy Parra Elizabeth Shugert Tabitha Tominon Sarah Ulery