Etcetera Art & Literary Magazine 2017

Etcetera

Moments In Time 2017 Prince George High School Art & Literary Magazine Vol. 30

EDITORIAL POLICY The Etcetera staff is a group of Prince George High School students who have pledged to carefully gather and publish artistic and literary works from the student body of PGHS. Etcetera accepts original poetry, fiction, nonfiction, art, and photography from the student body. All works are critiqued anonymously by the Etcetera staff. We reserve the right to edit writing submissions for mechanics, clarity and design. Artwork is modified only with the permission of the artist. Etcetera is an annual publication which may be purchased for $1.00. The Etcetera staff appreciates your support of creative endeavors.

Vol. 30 - Prince George High School - 7801 Laurel Spring Road - Prince George, VA 23875 - (804) 733 - 2720 Editor: Paul Dennis Jr. Adviser: Chris Waugaman

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POETRY 5|Prison Walls|Kayla Shafer 5|God Chose You, Father|Courtney West 7|Myth Of Freedom|Kayla Shafer 8|6/25/16|Trinitey Brown 8|7/22/16|Trinitey Brown 8|9/4/16|Trinitey Brown 8|9/9/16|Trinitey Brown 9|Disillusionment|Quincy Rice 9|Fathers’ Day|Paul Dennis Jr. 11|Underneath The Surface|Kathryn Mansur 11|From Green To Brown|Edward Walker Jr. 13|In A Time Of Need|Laura Thompson 14|Daddy’s Little Girl|Candace McClellan 15|Fractured Family|Paul Dennis Jr. 15|Mother|Hannah Dankenbring 16|By The Shore|Nicole Peters 16|Eve|Trinitey Brown 16|The Badge|Paul Dennis Jr. 16|Mass|Paul Dennis Jr. 18|False Resiliency|Paul Dennis Jr. 19|Growing In Your Garden|Madison Foster 20|My Endless Insomnia|Paul Dennis Jr.

ARTWORK

Cover|Caffeine|Erin Fogg 4|Tyler Joseph|Aya Daniels 6|Dancing Spectre|Lexie Ramirez 10|Altruistic|Wessam Hazaymeh 14-15|32.3326 ° N, 35.7517 ° E|Wessam Hazaymeh 17|A Star In The Light|Christine Bartruff 19|Fantasy Jungle|Kayla Davis 21|James Vincent McMorrow|Zahria Young 25|Black And White|Elisha Wyatt

PROSE

12|The Call|Tatyanna Thaxton 22-23|The B.A.R.D|Deauna Nunes 24|10 Tips On How To Survive As A Black Girl|Trinitey Brown 26-27|Happy’s Toy Robot|Taylor Anderson 28|Pretty|Deauna Nunes

Etcetera

Moments In Time 2017 Prince George High School Art & Literary Magazine Vol. 30

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Tyler Joseph by Aya Daniels

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Prison Walls

By Kayla Shafer

H

ave you ever felt trapped, Like you were behind iron walls?

Have you ever broke out, Despite all your falls?

The pain that I do?

Be strong little girl, Soon you’ll rule the world.

This planet has plans for all, So be courageous and stand tall.

Is there a way For you to see what you’ve done?

Why can’t you see That everybody’s gone?

Control the struggles that you face Lock them up in a case.

You’re in charge now It’s their turn to bow.

These prison walls Keep holding you back, Like a paper on the wall Being held by a tack.

Can’t you just see What these walls did to you?

Why can’t you feel

The prison gates have opened up Time to fly, time to drop.

Let’s have a little fun, Run to the sun, Fly around the moon, Just remember you’ll be back soon.

God Chose You, Father G

by Courtney West

od picked you out From all the rest, Because He knew You’d be the best.

My path has been So wild and mad, I have often left you Hurt and sad.

He handpicked you For He would rather Not have any other Be my father.

Yet you still offered me A father’s love, And God smiles on From Heaven above.

He knew I would need Someone strong, To guide me through My life along.

To pull me through My life along, God knew I needed Someone strong.

God knew your patient, Tender love And sent you me From Heaven above.

So He chose you From all the rest, And God was right, You are the best.

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Dancing Spectre by Lexie Ramirez

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Myth of Freedom

by Kayla Shafer

T

here is always a good, Everybody can feel it, When nothing is hard, And you don’t have to commit.

There is also a bad, Soon you will see, That everyone knows, We’re never truly free.

Freedom is earned, It is hardly given.

The only true way, Is to always be winnin’.

But winning is impossible, Most people know that.

In order to win, You have to rig the bat.

But are you a true champion, Since you have cheated?

Is ice still ice, After it’s been heated?

There is no winner, For winners are tools.

But there is no loser, Only a bunch of fools.

With no placement, There’s no way to tell

If there is truly, A path out of hell.

So test your limit.

Plan your run.

Go all day.

Isn’t it fun?

But you have to come back, No matter how far you’ve gone.

For as everyone knows, Freedom hasn’t won.

Words are stronger than you believe, So use them wisely, and you’ll be free.

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6.25.16

By Trinitey Brown

I

feel as if there is a hurricane inside me.

The banging and rattling, make my frail heart shake and quiver.

The wind blows fiercely, attempting to whisk away my ribs.

Dark clouds swirl as lightning flashes, Hitting and catching fire to my lungs.

The debris of our memories thrash about, Jabbing at my kidneys and ripping my stomach.

I can only hold myself and wait for it to pass.

7.22.16 I

By Trinitey Brown

by Trinitey Brown

I

always knew there was a god But then he brought me you, And that made it so much clearer.

I felt like all my prayers had been answered, And even after you left I still thanked God for the time I had with you.

9.9.16 I

t felt good To let go, Like a flower blooming.

But still, it tore at me.

Feeling like wine glasses crashing.

Turmoil and peace wrapped in one.

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9.4.16

by Trinitey Brown

’m going to miss you so much, Thanks for the poems you inspired, even though it burned my fingertips to write them.

For giving my singing some character, causing those sad songs to become a little bit more realistic.

For edging me to get into makeup, just so I can be prettier than her.

Sincerely, The girl who could have made you so, so happy.

Disillusionment

by Quincy Rice

Fathers’ Day

by Paul Dennis Jr.

T

H

I sometimes envy those that can’t see with their mind, because one can’t witness all the horrors if they’re blind, but once you start separating the truth from the lies, you never can go back to closing your eyes.

And I’m writing to a “man” who wasn’t man enough to care.

Happy Father’s Day, to a man I don’t see, Having to be my own role model, made a man out of me.

Now the gears are turning, my life began And you weren’t there for me, so you can’t call yourself a man.

his society is just a matrix consisting of an illusion, and I am just a glitch who can see through the confusion.

The majority of people can’t see the forest for the trees, They don’t realize that tyranny has put them on their knees.

With so many people blind and I’m able to see, Thoroughly describing the sites is my duty.

But more and more lately I’ve come to realize You can’t explain color to someone with no eyes.

To get through to you people, what’s it gonna take?

What actions will I have to make to get you to awake?

appy Father’s Day, to a man I don’t know.

I’d tell you I love you, but even love needs time to grow, Now all I see is a silhouette of a figure, who should have been here.

Happy Father’s Day, to a man that I wish I knew Although it hurts, I’d still give anything to spend some time with you.

You haven’t been here, but you’ve had a big effect on me, Because when I have my kids I know exactly who not to be.

So Happy Father’s Day, to a woman who’s done it all, Who pushed me when I needed it and caught me when I’d fall.

To a woman who had to be two parents for four kids, Mom, I love you, Happy Father’s Day, you’re a prime example of this.

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Altruistic by Wessam Hazaymeh

Underneath The Surface

From Green To Brown

by Kathryn Mansur

Y

ou look at me and you only see my face My body My size You don’t see me But what would happen if someone looked past the surface and found what was truly underneath?

Would they smile?

Would they laugh?

Or would they cry and hide from the darkness that has consumed me?

No one will know because no one will look underneath the surface.

by Edward Walker Jr.

H

ow many times do I cross your mind?

How long will you continue to be blind?

How many times will I have to wonder why?

How many times do I have to say it I’m that guy?

The good feeling I would provide Not burn, not sting you, but help you like peroxide, You can’t blame people for hurting you when you were being dumb, It’s like blaming the world for stepping on gum.

A permanent scar in my mind that I’ll never be blind to.

I’m not going to blame you for things I got myself into, But with a little bit of sarcasm, I will say thank you.

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The Call E

By Tatyanna Thaxton

arly Saturday morning, I received a call. I rolled over in my bed to see who it was and saw a picture of me and Ray smiling in front of a big red roller coaster. It had many spins, turns and dives. I still remember, Ray asked me earlier that morning to go with him, I agreed to go, it was a fun day.

But recently, Ray was diagnosed with a brain tumor and mostly stayed in the hospital. I usually went to see him but I could only stay in the room with him for a little while before the nurse came in and told me that he needed his rest. I yanked my phone off its charger and pressed the green answer button, “Ray?” But, I was caught off by Ray’s father “Hey, sorry to wake ya’ Hun’ but Ray wants to see ya’.” his father’s voice was frantic “Yea, sure uh I’ll be right there.” I said quickly and hung up.

I rushed out of bed, got dressed and drove to the hospital hoping Ray was alright. As I arrived at the hospital and rushed inside, the receptionist pointed to a door down the hall and I rushed toward the door and pushed it open to see Ray sitting up in his bed with covers over his lap. He turned his head to look at me when I opened the

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door, and smiled.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” he asked chuckling as he pat the bed for me to come and sit next to him.

As I did, he looked at me concerned, “Are you alright?”

I looked at him. “Yeah, your dad called and told me that you wanted to see me so I thought you....” I trailed off at the thought.

“Hey.” he nudged me “I’m right here.”

I looked at him and smiled weakly, he always knew how to make me feel better. Like an older brother or a…boyfriend.

He looked at the heart monitor then back to me.

“Can I ask you something.” He shuffled himself to lay down.

“Sure, ask away.” I stood up to give him more room.

“Do you remember when we were in sixth grade and we promised if one of us wanted the other to do something really important, we’d do it?” he turned his head on the pillow to look at me.

“Yeah...” I pulled the covers over his chest “Does that still stand?”

I looked up at him and nodded “Of course.”

He smiled at me, his eyes glassy.

“Well can I ask you one last question?”

I blinked afraid of where this was going.

“Hmm?”

He blinked “Will you kiss me?”

I was surprised at his question but relieved it wasn’t different. I nodded and kissed his forehead. The look he gave me made me think he was saying ‘really? You know that’s not what I meant.’ “Fine.”

I leaned in close to his face our noses almost touching. I began to panic this was my first kiss and to think of it, his too. I looked in his hazel eyes, burning with determination and happiness both at the same time. I smiled and tilted my head to the side slightly and pushed myself toward his face. His lips were softer than I thought they’d be but with his incoming mustache the little hairs tickled me. I pulled away and looked at him, the smile on his face brought me to tears. It had been a while since I’d saw his ‘cool guy smile’. I thought it was gone forever. I threw myself at him hugging him.

“I got my wish.” He lifted his hand to my head and began rubbing my head like he used to. I lifted myself to meet his gaze.

“What was your wish?” I stood up standing next to his bed, holding his hand. He turned his head to look at me.

“To have my first kiss with you....”

He suddenly closed his eyes. His hand went limp in mine, I looked at the heart monitor and saw a straight line going across. The endless beep filled my thoughts; Ray, my friend, he’s gone. 0

In A Time Of Need

By Laura Thompson

L

ove, what does it mean to love?

Does it have to be an intimate relationship between two people?

In my brown, youthful eyes love means to have affection for something, whether it is towards family, friends, pets, sports, and many other things.

Love is felt through the passion one has for someone or something, through his or her veins and soul.

If that’s love, what’s peace?

In a world of chaos and unfortunate events some people may not know the definition of peace.

What I know though is, in this world we need to work together.

We must stop dividing ourselves over gender, race, and sexuality.

The world must come together to save itself or life will be extinguished.

We, as in the people of planet Earth, must find that love, passion, and soul to bring peace back into our existence.

We need to stop the murders, violence, and arguments.

We need to transform that anger to something that can make an impact on the world.

Finding ways to help countries that need support and finding cures for life threatening diseases is more important than killing one another physically and emotionally.

The most essential thing, however, is to use that love we all have inside our hearts and uncover the peace in this dark, cruel world.

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Daddy’s Little Girl

by Candace McClellan his is daddy’s little girl...

That her father would let go of his pride She’s scared she’ll ruin his biggest dreams And be happy for his little girl He didn’t want her to yet meet her king She just wants him to stick by her side!

But his biggest fear was for her to instead have a queen She wants to tell him A girl has his girl’s heart But she knows this would never end nicely.

And how was she to explain to him these things?

He got her staying up at night Daddy never liked gays Contemplating if her decisions are right.

So of course she was scared for somethings...

But this is what she wants...

This is daddy’s little girl...

She knows that this is her life.

The only daughter he’s ever had This is daddy’s little girl...

Got her walking around feeling sad She’s just scared of losing her best friend Cause she’s never kept secrets from her dad She knows she’ll lose him What if he no longer loves her?

All because she doesn’t want a man What if he gets mad?

This situation is deep She’s a daddy’s girl...

Because she knows where she stands And what if she loses connections with her dad?

But why can’t her father see her This is daddy’s little girl...

Why couldn’t he just understand ?

And these are the things she wanted in life!

She wants to know...

Hoping one day that she’ll soon meet her wife...

Just why isn’t he like her friends ?

Walking down the aisle She’s hurting inside...

Hoping to see all of the smiles She’s scared of losing her world...

Including her own dad She doesn’t want to lose him But she just knows This would be all over a girl!

He’ll never be apart of that crowd!

She’s scared... She’s confused...

This is daddy’s little girl...

This is daddy’s little girl!

She’s hurting inside...

Wishing one day

T

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M

Nurtu The o First l

Fractured Family

by Paul Dennis Jr.

T

here is no apparent glue for a broken household for if you try to hide the pain then you will feel it tenfold.

Parents “mend” their relationship for their children’s sake But there is only so much strain duct taped love can take.

Usually one parent opts to give up on the process Because when you’re losing a war you can’t make any progress So one parent signifies their weakness by their absence And abandons their children to a lifetime of poor guidance When your father figure’s missing and a role model gone, Then you look for love from places that can be so wrong.

So if your family is fractured but you want it to last forever, Then you must work past all the breaks and try to hold it all together.

Mother M

by Hannah Dankenbring

other Forever friend Nurturer, teacher, pal The one who will always be there First love.

32.3326 ° N, 35.7517 ° E by Wessam Hazaymeh

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By the Shore

The Badge

found a sea shell by the sea shore, It reminded me of you Like all the time we spent at the ocean together with our families.

Maybe it’s time to get back to the basics, Maybe I needed to find the special seashell to bring our families back together again.

T

by Nicole Peters

I

Eve I

by Trinitey Brown

came from his rib So His pain is mine When He is sick in bed My heart is sick So I lay and pray that God takes His pain and passes it to me.

I came from his rib So His happiness is mine When His eyes light up Mine do too So I sit back and smile big and asks

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that God keeps that light in Him. I came from his rib So His tears are mine When they drop from his face My heart cries too So I beg God to dry them and throw His hurt to me.

I came from His rib So protecting His heart was my initial home.

by Paul Dennis Jr.

he badge is the sign of the cost Fighting for the found and the lost Coat of arms etched into the soul Fighting to make one place, for a moment, whole.

And though the pain will never cease, They’ll willingly die for the thought of peace.

For law and love they fight against chaos And rarely receive thanks for their efforts to save us.

Mass T

by Paul Dennis Jr.

he sound of your name holds so much weight, That it crushes my soul and my essence deflates.

But my heart trained my ears to withstand it.

A Star In The Light by Christine Bartruff

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False Resiliency

by Paul Dennis Jr.

I

t has been said that real love doesn’t die.

That it lives on through all the hurt, betrayal, and the lies, And although you may think I’ve garnered enough strength to move on When I spend my time with anyone else, it begins to feel so wrong.

Here is the truth, my truth, or a version of my reality, I wanna reach new heights, but you hold me down like gravity, I want to move on, but it seems I don’t have a choice.

I’m screaming to let you go, but all my heart hears is white noise...

And so I do my best to pass you in the halls and say no words Whilst my loud yet silent protests mistakenly go unheard, I proceed to fight my hardest just to keep my mouth shut, While time erodes my love and my emotions just erupt.

You are a cool breeze on a summer day, you amaze me, So why would having to live my life without you never phase me?

But no, it’s those cursed thoughts that got me here in the first place.

Thinking about how you unintentionally make my heart race and it’s unsafe, Then the pain returns and I contemplate, and decide that maybe we need space Then change my mind

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and pray it’s not too late cause I realized what is at stake.

So I take the white noise that my heart hears and I tell you, but you don’t care, and it hurts, but on my mind still are your soft eyes and your long hair.

It kills me, but I still hope that our father answers my prayers And proceeds to tell you that your home isn’t your home if I’m not there, If loving you was against the law, then by rule of law I could not abide, I would have to take a plea because its in your heart that my heart resides And I despise the fact that your feelings for me were never realized.

Without you, my heart and soul live on but my essence slowly dies, I hang on by a thread but you cover your ears so you don’t hear my cries, And each day I drown in this loneliness and yet the waters still rise You have wounded me permanently and there’s no doctor who can mend it.

So please don’t judge me too hard when I say “maybe I should end it” I hide my pain every morning and it seems there will be no end, Then go to sleep every night, wake up, and do it all again, So if you ever notice a flash of sadness, it may at first seem quite insignificant, Until you realize that I still think of you, I’m just falsely resilient.

Growing In Your Garden

by Madison Foster

G

rowing in your garden, my love for the outdoors cultivated.

I aspired to be as bright as our sunflowers, glistening in the summer sun.

You taught to me how to love, by planting my roots deep in our family soil.

With water and sunlight I grew from a little seed to a blossoming flower.

Through storms and hail from above, my stem became stronger.

I used to think we were annuals, but you’re not here anymore.

You taught me how to live through the uniqueness of my petals.

I’ll never forget your spot next to mine in the patch.

You were a beautiful flower that I’d love to grow into.

Rest easy my sunflower.

Fantasy Jungle by Kayla Davis

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My Endless Insomnia

by Paul Dennis Jr.

I

’m getting used to all the sleepless nights where I lay awake Pain of realizing you left me, it’s more than I can take Overwhelmed by emotions, those are the moments that I hate And I mistakenly convince myself maybe its not too late But I’m wrong... and you never fail to remind me That being hurt is never easy, even when they do it kindly You’ve broken me to little pieces, I’ll never find the parts I have the world at my fingers but my home is still your heart I twist and turn amongst my sheets to maybe induce some sleep Then try to find the reasoning for happiness I couldn’t keep Is it him? Is it you?.. Is it me? What’d I do?

Hope it’s a nightmare, and I awaken to you saying its not true But for nightmares, I must dream. And for dreams I must rest So if sleep was a gift from God, all I want is to be blessed When I say you are my world, believe that is no stretch I fell for you not for your looks, but from what’s inside your chest Love isn’t time, it isn’t distance, but it is what takes place That makes my time with you priceless, and causes hearts to race I see you now, feelings resurface, guess they never left.

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And the I’m remembering the pictures that I wish I kept.

No one else can fix my heart when you’re who left it broken I can sew the pieces back but there will still be some unwoven “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, Is a statement written by someone who hasn’t felt the downfall Of a failed love and the empty void that it leaves upon your being And everything could be avoided if you just reconsidered leaving As darkness outlines my line of sight, I realize sleep approaches, I welcome it. It heals the wounds from the battle of my emotions I’m scarred... Not from gun or blade, but words Which is why I go to lengths as such to tell you that it hurts like a flame, sleep engulfs me and I burn in dreams alone, I dream we are together and feel more happiness than I have ever known Then you end things and I’m forced to relive my night terrors hanging on to the hope that maybe one day, you’ll realize your error, And I awaken, shaking, sweating, groggy, and winded, And shed a single tear because my nightmare never truly ended

James Vincent McMorrow by Zahria Young

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The B.A.R.D I

sn’t it funny how one word can make a difference? Or change a life? Or a whole world even? How a single word could devastate us all? How one word could turn everything you know into a complete and utter lie? How one word could erase light, happiness, laughter?

One word that could scare an entire population? Crazy, isn’t it? Impossible, people would tell me. But it did happen. Our word was Geneira...

Geneira. This little word threw my entire life into chaos. This little word killed one forth of my country’s population in under a month.

One. Month.

Geneira is a fatal virus that was leaked into our country’s water ways by terrorists, as the government tells us. It spreads

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By Deauna Nunes

fast and kills cruelly, taking pity on no one. It travels through water and contracted by touch.

It seeps through your skin. It swims through your body to your lungs. It eats them from the inside out. Our scientist tell us it’s an extreme mutated form of Tuberculosis.

I call it death.

They tell us that it causes serious migraines while forcing blood out of the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. I say you’re basically drowning in your own blood.

The government decreed a new agency to deal with the Geneira outbreak: The Biohazard Anomaly Research Department, or more commonly known as The B.A.R.D. Once they established the genome of the virus the agency gave out strict instructions to stop the

contraction of Geneira...

Public Service Announcement 11/18/23 1. Remove all sources of water from your abode (i.e. faucets, toilets, sinks, etc.), if in need of water contact your neighborhood representative.

2. All bodies of water are to be restricted from public access.

Anyone seen within a 10 mile radius of one will be incarcerated and endure severe consequences.

3. Morning weather reports are mandatory, if there is a chance of precipitation stay indoors until the all clear is issued.

4. The government will issue 3 gallons of purified water to each house hold. You can collect yours from your neighborhood representative every first of the month. *FOR THOSE WITH NO HOME, PLEASE BOIL WATER IF IN DIRE NEED OF IT*

-The B.A.R.D. does not advise the consumption of non issued government water. Please be advised when reading this announcement and help us, help you.

Then they passed the Cure Center Act. This law established an intricate system of finding the perfect subjects for experimental purposes to cure Geneira.

They called it The Choosing.

The Choosing was suppose to help us, yet it made it worse.

Our population dropped drastically as The Choosing started gathering their subjects (more like victims) for experimentation. The program is cruel with no notice to family members until the day they go to retrieve the subject. Here’s the kicker though, you are taken even if unwilling. You may ask why we may not go willingly.

No one has made it out of experimentation alive.

Being Chosen is a death sentence.

And to be honest I don’t believe we should sacrifice ourselves to cure Geneira. Its sick, if we kill people trying to find a cure, then how are we better than it is.

I won’t let anyone I love go through The Choosing, not if I have anything to do with it.

---------------------I head down our neighborhood to our county representatives headquarters to retrieve my family’s supply of government issued water my mother sent me out to get. As I walk, I give wary glances to the sky. I forgot to watch the report this morning since I slept in, but my mother assured me it would be fine. I used to never care if it rained or not, but then my friend, Luke, was caught in it one day, and I saw the whole

gruesome process first hand.

It was terrible, and gave me nightmares for months.

So now, I worry. I worry too much for a teenager to do. My mother teases me saying I’ll get wrinkles, but being honest I’d rather get wrinkles then to have something like that happen to me.

“Hey, Blakely.” The greeting pulling me back to earth, I nod at one of my neighbors as I approach the headquarters, stepping into the growing line that was forming.

“Hi Mr. Darbis, how’s the wife?”

“Good, good. So is CiChi,” the older man says with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I always wondered how people could smile in a time like this.

“That’s great, I miss that little yapper,” I tease with a soft laugh that was forced. Mr. Darbis chuckles lightly. We

chat amicably as the line edges forward. Him speaking of his wife, Linda, and how her sewing business is going and me cautiously keeping an eye on the sky.

It isn’t long before we make it to the front of the line and receive our gallons of water. I bid my farewell to Mr. Darbis and head back home, wondering when we’ll ever live a normal world again.

No walking three miles to get water.

No lying to ourselves about the danger we face every time we walk outside.

No wondering when the government will take someone you love away.

I shake my head casting away the thoughts. To think like that in a time like this was dangerous. I look to the sky to see some clouds coming in from the south. I shudder.

As I make my way towards

home at a steady and rushed pace I hear a siren. Not just any siren, like an ambulance or fire truck. No, it is the ear screeching, long-wailing scream that pierces through your body and plunges into the depths of your soul.

Without stopping I look hesitantly over my shoulder to confirm my fears. A large black automobile comes rushing down the street. I pick up my pace into a light jog as it passes me eying the bold red lettering on its side: The B. A. R. D. I break out into a cold sweat fearing where it was headed. Someone’s been Chosen.

Please don’t turn left. Please don’t turn left. Please don’t turn left.

The black death vehicle turns and I almost fall to my knees with only one thought going through my mind.

My house is the only one on that dirt road. 0

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10 Tips On How To Survive As A Black Girl

by Trinitey Brown

1. When people go to touch your puffs, finger your braids, or play

6. When African Art is being made fun of, remember that you are

2. Always correct someone when they mispronounce your name.

7. When a black boy shouts “black girls are ugly,” cause a scene.

with your hair bows, snatch away. You worked too hard for your moisturizer coils to be dried by their hands.

No matter how many, n’s, r’s, s’s, isha’s, qua’s, or da’s within it.

3. When laughed at because of your complexion, remind them

how you are compared to nature. How your yellow is laced with sun, how your brown hugs trees, and that your black blends in with the night.

4. After you let your anger get the best of you, the term angry

black woman will be thrown around. Remind them of the centuries of silence, the separation from our children, the rape of our sisters, and the broken pride of our brothers; you have every right to be angry.

5. When picked on for not having curves, a big butt, or large

breasts. Remind them of versatility. Let them know just because you have the skin of many women, it does not mean we will all have the same features.

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art. The way your lips are full, how your nostrils flare, and your face rounds, shows that you belong in an art exhibit yourself.

Hoop, holler, and shout until he understands. Maybe he forgot that his mother, grandmother, aunts, and sister are all those “unattractive females”.

8. When called “ghetto” for being loud, having vibrant hair, long

nails, flashy jewelry, or corn rolls (excuse me, the main stream term is boxer braids) let them know that it is a culture. That the actions our black counterparts are looked down for is taken into the hands of celebrities and main stream media.

9. When you have your first daughter, teach her how to love herself and her skin. Nothing will hurt her more than trying to learn how to love herself when the world is screaming it’s hate for her.

10. When you have your first son, cherish every moment with

him. No matter how much he cries or how bad he is. Because you never know, one day he may be walking to the store, while the next week he lies in a coffin marked with a hashtag.

Black And White by Elisha Wyatt

25

Happy’s Toy Robot I

t was twilight, that mythical time of day when the line between dreams and reality is blurred, like the half-conscious state between waking and sleeping. The setting sun cast a weak light on the city street, but it didn’t do much to relieve the chill in the air. The street was unusually quiet for the time of the day, but not for the day in question.

It wasn’t completely empty, however. A lone driver was barreling down the street in a black Mercedes-Benz. The car swerved into the parking lot of a small toy store, and the driver opened the door. He was clearly in a hurry, rushing to the door as fast as his lavish clothes would allow.

Glancing at the hours of operation, he breathed a sign of relief and entered the building.

The door had a bell that rang cheerfully as the man stepped

26

you have any?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. You really think we still have any in stock? Those sold like hotcakes. The only things we

by Taylor Anderson got left are stuff you find at a dollar store, and even most of through. At first glance, it appeared those are gone.” that there wasn’t anyone in the “Please, you’ve got to help me. store, but a second later a gruff I’m having kind of a bad day, and looking man emerged from a back you’re the only toy store in town room, evidently summoned by the that’s still open,” Cameron pleaded. doorbell. He was wearing a uniform “Yeah, for good reason. No with “Happy’s Toy Store,” sewn on one’s crazy enough to be out buying the front, and a scowl to match. toys this late.” Happy responded.

“What do you want? It’s almost “You don’t understand. I need closing time.” this robot. Money is no object.”

“You’re Happy?” The man “You’re the one who doesn’t asked in surprise. understand. We. Don’t. Have. Any. “Last I checked,” Happy You can’t buy your way out of this replied. one.”

“No offense, but you don’t “Do you at least know where I really look like someone who’d be can get one?” running a toy store.”

“No idea. It’s not my problem.

“And you don’t look like Why do you want this robot so someone who’d be buying a toy, badly, anyway?”

Rolex.”

“It’s…personal. None of your “Actually, my name is business.”

Cameron.”

“Uh huh. Well, if we’re “Sure it is, Rolex.” done here, I’m gonna close up “Whatever. I’m looking for a shop. Some of us actually have Mars Adventure Super Robot. Do somewhere to be on Christmas

Eve.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Cameron responded sarcastically.

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Happy said as they both left the store, Happy locking the door behind him.

“You’re sure you can’t help me?” Cameron asked with a sense of desperation.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do,” Happy said, and began to walk away.

As the two men began to part ways, Happy suddenly felt the urge to turn around. Cameron was slumped on a bench with his head down, and all at once, Happy realized that maybe Cameron wasn’t as put together as he seemed.

His suit was wrinkled, and he had an air of sadness about him that Happy recognized only all too well.

Almost before he has thought it through, Happy found himself saying, “You know, I think I have something that can help you. Come with me to my house.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cameron asked. “I thought you just said you couldn’t help me.”

“Just come with me, Rolex.”

“My car’s almost out of gas.

I’ve been driving around all day looking for this robot.”

“Then I’ll take you in my truck. Trust me, it’ll be worth your while.”

Cameron hesitated, then reluctantly got in the passenger seat of Happy’s old pickup.

The ride passed in awkward silence, and both occupants spent most of it looking out the window.

After a ride that seemed much longer than it was, they arrived at Happy’s house. The house was fairly small, but well kept. Once they entered the house, Happy immediately headed upstairs.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” he said.

Cameron looked around the room. It seemed like Happy lived by himself, but there were several pictures on the walls and furniture of a much younger Happy with a young woman. Happy was actually…well, happy, and had a broad smile on his face.

Cameron jumped as Happy began to speak. He had been so focused on the pictures he hadn’t heard Happy re-enter the room.

“That’s Livvy. We were going to get married, before she…before she passed away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in the past. As is this.”

Happy produced an antique toy robot from behind his back. It was silver and red, and had a wind-up key on the back.

“My father gave this to me when I was young. He’s the one that inspired me to start the toy store. I was going to give it to my kid when the time came, but life had other plans. You should have it. My dad would want it that way. All I ask is that you promise it truly is for a good cause.”

“I could never take something that important from you,” Cameron protested.

“No, no, I insist. I sure as heck ain’t doing anything with it. As long as it’s for a good cause.”

“It is. I need it for…”

“No, I don’t want to know. I believe you,” Happy interrupted.

“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me,” Cameron said, beginning to tear up. “And hey, some friendly advice; you should try smiling more

often. It might do you some good.”

“I don’t need any advice from you, Rolex,” Happy said, but he seemed to be hiding a smile. “Now c’mon, I’ll drop you back off at the store.”

The ride was silent again, but this time it was a comfortable silence. When they arrived at the toy store, neither of them seemed to know what to say.

“Well then, take care,” Happy said.

“You too. Thanks again, Happy.”

The two men embraced, and Happy drove off in his pickup.

Cameron watched him go with the feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time they would see each other.

He got back into his car and set off, this time at a much slower pace.

A couple minutes later, after putting gas in his car, he arrived at his destination, a tiny two room house on the outskirts of the city.

He parked his Mercedes Benz in between a trash can and a beat-up sedan, then sat in his car staring at the steering wheel.

Steeling himself, Cameron walked up to the door, put his hand

up to knock…and let it fall to his side. Instead, he took a notepad and pen out of his suit jacket and wrapped the jacket carefully around the robot. Then, he wrote a quick note and stuck it on the jacket. He took one last look at the house, sighed, and drove away with a sad smile on his face.

Not long after, a young woman opened the door and found the jacket. Picking it up, she read the note on the outside: Dear Grace, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us, and I’m sorry I focused more on my job than on you two. I know you said you didn’t want any money from me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of our son not getting a Christmas present. I know he’s been wanting a toy robot, and I found a really special one. Please tell him it’s from you. It’s the least I can do.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Cameron As Grace reentered the house, a sad smile could be seen on her face, not unlike the one Cameron had adopted moments before. 0

27

Pretty

By Deauna Nunes

S

ometimes, a person discovers something that they didn’t want to know, didn’t expect to know, didn’t need to know. Every single day, Jamie was one of those people.

Jamie stared down at the thick manila folder that she had just retrieved from the mail. In crisp black-againstwhite letters, it read: Addressed to Jamie Eve Brown.

Daughter of Eliza Claire Brown, she added bitterly in her head. Even if it wasn’t there, everyone thought it. It was never “Jamie Brown”. It was always, “Jamie, Eliza’s kid”.

She wasn’t unique. Her mother was.

She couldn’t be taken seriously, but her mother could.

All her life, Jamie had been a nobody. A gorgeous nobody, that is. She

was pretty. People acknowledged that.

But that’s the only thing that people could point out. Unlike her mother, the multi-millionaire natural beauty, swhohe rose up from being dirt poor and abandoned.

You had to be an idiot who lived in a whole in Antarctica to not know who Eliza Brown was.

She was legendary.

While all Jamie would ever be was pretty.

Pretty.

The word echoed bitterly in her head. All she would ever be.

She had always wanted a long-term relationship. As if. Why would anyone want to date a shallow Barbie doll?

They all knew she had no destiny.

She would die rich and broken inside.

It was an accepted fact. She opened the envelope. It was empty. As usual.

Oh, what she would give to not be pretty. If she wasn’t, she could be herself.

If she wasn’t, she could be free. If she wasn’t, she could have a life.

But no. She had to shut up those hopes and dreams and fold them into a mental envelope. She had to pretend to send them to that idiot who lived in the hole in Antarctica and pray that at least one person understood. That maybe even the idiot in the hole in Antarctica would understand how desperate she was.

But she knew in her heart that he wouldn’t. No one would because that’s all they saw.

That’s all she would ever be.

Pretty. 0