Ink Spills

Creative Writing Publication English 3238 2012 Edition

Introduction.

T he writer takes the quill and dips it in ink. Sometimes, he is sure his words will run like sand through fingers, the hand eagerly waiting to trace the paths the writer’s thoughts would travel, making wonders on paper. But every so often, the silver tip of that quill will hover over the paper, only seconds away from impact, but in serious hesitation.

What is there to write of that hasn’t been written?

As thoughts and doubts cloud the writer’s eyes, an explosive chaos forms in his mind, pushing and pulling at the rough edges. The writer is too busy to notice that one drop of ink is being brought to life with a tear-like shape, right at the end of the quill, a tear that carries more chaos than the writer ever wanted to let the world know of. And it makes its chaotic landing on the paper like the paint from a brush and the bridge of a song. All control is lost, for that one moment of hesitation. But the writer, regaining control of his quill, starts entangling his thoughts on the paper as nothing more than controlled chaos, surging from the ink spills of his heart.

What follows on these blank pages are our own ink spills. Little treasures of our minds, that we hesitantly show the world. s Heisy González “The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.”

Anaïs Nin

T

he students of this year’s Creative Writing class have taken ideas from the popular media and classroom assignments and personalized them in ways that are exciting, thoughtful, touching, and profound.

I am proud of all of you. s Prof. Robinson

Table of Contents.

Vignette.

These Things Pass Poems.

The House on The Hill I Feel...

Just a Dream Short Stories.

Chelsea He’s Known Since Just a Child Haunted Mind Freak Once Upon a Time Trying to Wake Up A Girl Named Bad Luck The Padlocked Chest As Subtle as a Flying Brick Love in War Ava’s Friends Annie The Strange Machine The Twisted Tree Pestarzr Irene Strange Machine Locked Chest Reviews.

Kaisen X Travel.

Goza What? Gozalandia!

Vieques

P-4

P-5 P-5 P-5

P-6 P-7 P-9 P-10 P-10 P-12 P-12 P-14 P-16 P-17 P-18 P-20 P-20 P-21 P-22 P-22 P-24 P-24

P-25

P-27 P-29

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Vignette.

These Things Pass.

I

Natasha C. Rivera

see her jogging down the path, in somewhat of a hurry.

Dressed in her best clothes –a brown tunic shirt, a short denim skirt, olive green leggings and her usual brown boots-, she holds an old wicker basket, a red checkered blanket teases to poke out.

As she passes the bridge, she barely takes notice that I stand there fishing, as I always do.

Nevertheless, I notice every single detail of her passing: from her short brown pixielike hair, following closely behind her as she picks up her speed to the tiny beads of sweat that dot her face, consequence of jogging in this summer heat, even the little details like the shoelaces of her boots, loosely tied. But most of all, that unique flowery scent she leaves behind.

I pretend to reel in my fishing line, to conceal the fact that I keep watching her every move. She stops by the wooden fence that surrounds the tall hill, where couples usually meet. She seems hesitant and somewhat nervous, tapping her foot and checking her watch regularly. She glances in my direction; I quickly look the other way, throwing my line in the water. For the moment, I am distracted by the cool breeze that gently blows.

The sun begins to set slowly over the horizon, the street lamps begin to light and the temperature slightly drops. As I reel in

my line and set my things together, I sneak another look to where she was. She sits on the grass, by herself, picking absentmindedly at her wicker basket, staring at the distance. Realizing that this will be the only chance I might ever have, I consider plucking up the courage to walk over to her, joining her late picnic. However, just as I take the first step, someone rushes past me, knocking my things to the ground, not bothering to stop and apologize, the person zooms off. The person, a guy, settles next to her on his knees, pleading for forgiveness. She stares at him and lightly punches him in the arm, all is forgiven.

Defeated, I gather my things once more, turning the opposite direction; I walk down the path towards town. Feeling disappointed, I kick a rock that was on the road, it lands on a puddle, creating a bigger splash than I would have imagined. I hear someone complain, I look up from the ground to see another girl standing in front of me, brushing off some of the mud that landed on her shoes. She sees me and smiles and I can’t help but to think that, call it fate or call it whatever, maybe this time I’ll have better luck. s

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Poems.

The House on the Hill.

Antonio Jiménez

So there it was, lonely on a hill A creepy house that your heart would fill With fear, and slightly turn your face white There was something about this house that didn’t feel right.

What scary secrets would it hide?

What would happen if I took a look inside?

Fear and hysteria were all over my head It felt like the house followed me to bed…

I feel that you love me, every time you touch me, even when you look at me, even when you kiss.

I feel that I could hurt, if you’re not not around, ‘cause you are the one, that keeps me on.

I feel it’s true love, because we are still here, let’s hold hands, and make it real.

Jesybel Rivera I feel that I love you, also that I need you, come and hold me, and I’ll always be here.

I feel you’re the one, the one that makes me happy, also makes me believe that love is a powerful thing.

You think it doesn’t hurt, or even make things any worse but it does make things fall apart and makes them hard to keep moving on.

I love you so much, and I want to be here, but why should I stay, if I don’t even believe you.

I Feel...

I feel when you’re happy, even when you’re sad, just come back to me, and let’s take a chance.

Our moments are the best, but also so complicated, always fighting or just judging making things hard to work.

Maybe if we both try, things might work a little better, but I’m so scared Something inside tells me I won’t survive.

I never thought that the moment before opening that door Was the last peaceful moment my mind would enjoy…

I feel that our love is perfect, also that it’s magical, let’s spend time together, and make it powerful.

twice. he may lift me up and then drop me back.

Just a Dream.

Jesybel Rivera

I had that dream again, he came back for that last chance, and I decided to let him try to fix things and make them right.

He’s here, I know but his intention, I’m not sure, he did it once he can do it

Maybe I’m still inside, inside of my dream, I thought everything could change but the truth is I’m not ready for all this.

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Short Stories.

Chelsea.

I

Nicole Negrón ’ve loved you for a long time, but I knew that telling you my feelings would ruin our friendship. That’s not the only thing that bothered me, Chelsea. It’s that you would have never accepted the fact that a girl likes you that way. I could only watch you and enjoy the sight of your beautiful smile, nothing more. Sometimes I was happy with just that, but other times I just wanted to hold you close. I didn’t know what to do, but I felt impatient.

That time when you told me you got your first boyfriend, it shattered my soul, but I swallowed all my emotions and gave you support. I lost count of all the times that I thought about you, because that’s all I do.

I made up my mind; I summoned all my courage to tell you that day.

I was ready, or at least I thought I was.

That morning I was already nervous to the point of shaking. I wanted to look pretty even if she rejected me. I fixed my hair and put a simple make-up on. My stomach felt uneasy, but it was too late, I wasn’t going to back down. I was already at school waiting for her, like always. But it felt different somehow. And there she was, with her soft silky long hair and plaid bow. I said “Hi” in the most nervous voice I’ve heard come out from me. She smiled at me and gave me a hug like every morning.

This was something normal between us, but to me it was so much more than that. I looked at her straight in the eye and said, “I need to talk to you.

Do you have a minute?” and she simply said yes without questioning my intentions. As we walked to the back of the school gym I only heard my own heartbeat. It was nerve wracking.

Finally we stopped, and she said, “What did you want to talk to me about?” I know what I wanted to say, but no words came out of my mouth. I stood there looking down at the ground. Suddenly, without thinking about it, I kissed her. It was quick, but not enough for her to push me away. I knew what it meant, I knew, but I didn’t want to think about it. Before she could say a word I told her, “I LOVE YOU”! with a bright red face.

When I looked at her, she seemed confused and not exactly angry. She said, “I’m sorry I pushed you away, it was a reaction but--” I was anxiously waiting for what she would say even if it was bad news. She grabbed my shoulder and told me, “I don’t want to hurt you; you are like my little sister.” When I heard those words I started to cry and I couldn’t stop. She was silent for a while, looking at me. She decided to give me a hug to comfort me, but in that moment nothing was sufficient to take away the pain I was feeling. While she was hugging me I told her “I shouldn’t have said anything to you, I regret it so much.” With a calm expression she said, “Nothing will change between us, I promise. Regardless of what happened today.” Those words made me feel somewhat better. After that we left and went to our respective classrooms. It was hard to concentrate during classes; I could only think about what happened that morning. At least now it was night and the day almost over.

The next day, I felt horrible, but the thought that Chelsea would continue to be my friend made me feel at ease.

When I arrived to school I saw her walking towards me, but she lowered her head and avoided me. s

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He’s Known Since Just a Child.

S

Víctor M. Martinez

he threw the piece of crumpled-up loose-leaf paper on the floor, adding it to the not so small pile she had been working on since the afternoon. All of them had scribbled and although they didn’t happen to share the same words, they were all synonymous in message. She took another paper from the ream she had bought earlier and sat it next to her beat-up pencil, which was so chewed-up it resembled a delicious wedge of cartoon-style cheese. She then rested her elbows on the table, covering her face with her hands as tears began to slide down her cheeks. A single tear fell over the fresh piece of paper. When she saw it, she became enraged and flipped the table over, resulting in her materials being spread unevenly throughout the wooden floor.

With her screams the sobs began and she could no longer contain it; she buried her face in now dampened pillows and cried for hours, unable to find a way to say what she believed to still be a secret protected in the shallow abyss of her heart.

Everyday she would wake up and drive a distance of eight miles to the house of a childhood friend. She would do so late; for she lived an irregular lifestyle and would call morning the time when many would arrive home. Upon reaching her destination, she would park on a nearby curb and wait.

She didn’t know what she was waiting for and she didn’t really care, all she knew was that she wanted to wait. This went on for months and no one thought anything of it, no one but her friend who was aware of her eerie visits but decided to let her be. After dark she would venture back home and go about her business, business she also believed to be secret but was really not. She would browse and read and watch anything related to her friend, and to her: this was a dirty little secret.

As children, she and her friend had shared what can only be described as a particularly quaint relationship. Her

friend’s parents were of a wealthy background and, as is natural of people with elevated financial capabilities, his parents had not one but two places of residence, one that so happened to be located next to her home. She, also of gifted origins, lacked nothing, and had been a spoiled child since birth. Her parents nurtured her every whim and ignored the fact that she grew up to be quite awkward, incapable of coherent relationships and unskilled in social interactions. This, of course, made her very lonely.

She embraced the loneliness for many years, feigning to be uninterested in the magic of friendship. Her days were mostly spent indoors, where she would focus on frivolous and trivial activities. Then, as fate would have it, one day she grew tired of being inside and stepped outside to enjoy the grey cool lighting of an autumn afternoon. While outside, she pondered how unusually empty the streets were for a Saturday. It didn’t really bother her, since she cared not for activities with any of the other children, but the silence lingered on and only grew more annoying with time.

Trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling, she decided to take a walk so as to seize the opportunity. It was then that she noticed that the house on the corner, which was usually empty on weekdays, had a car parked on its driveway. She came to a stop in front of the house’s doorway, trying to catch of glimpse of the type of people that were inside. After about a minute of ungraceful staring, a little boy came out of his room on the back end of the house.

When he noticed her presence, he went up to her and said hello, since he was a curious fellow and enjoyed company. She tried to ignore him, but he insisted on trying to talk to her and she eventually gave in. They struck up a conversation and, being about the same age, had many similar interests to talk about. Their talking went on for a while, and it eventually gave way to an

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unbreakable bond of camaraderie.

After that day, she and the boy began hanging out every weekend, separated only by the fact that he would go back to his family’s other house during the week. On weekends, though, they became inseparable, and their frolicking would go on for many years. They grew together and with time, so did their friendship, but her perception of friendship grew farther and farther from that of her friend’s. Still, he coped with it out of understanding, since he enjoyed spending time with her and did not mind her feelings. It was only when they matured that life led them down separate paths, and in spite of the fact that their friendship remained strong, things like distance, money and college inevitably kept them apart.

They both cared deeply for each other and would not deny the fact, but her care for him was unhealthy and despite his efforts, she would not comprehend the degree of friendship he was willing to offer.

Whenever they met, on occasions planned by him since she would seldom make the effort, he would make sure to talk about how they felt about each other, trying to find a way to get her to understand that he did not feel as she did, he never had, and she was only lying to herself by believing. She, however, refused to understand, agreeing to the fact that they had always been on the same page and no one would ever change what had become of their relationship.

To this end, and for the benefit of her mental well-being, he made the decision of cutting off contact. To her, he was just confused and needed a small push. She decided to buy him gifts and wait patiently, upping the regularity of her visits by a substantial degree. He knew and he wanted to ignore it, but after a while many noticed the strange and awkward presence of the uninvited girl. Then, after being caught on several occasions, she actually picked up the phone and gave him a call: “Hey. How ya doing?”

“A little busy. What’s up?

“Just wondering if I could come by and give you a little something.”

“It’s 11:30 at night…”

“I’m just in the area and thought I could go give you a little something.”

“Yeah… I know where you are, I’ve always known, and you should leave.”

“What? I’m just running some errands and…”

“Leave.”

“Why? Can’t I come visit you!?”

“No.” “I bet your friends could visit you.”

“Leave, you’ve gone too far.”

“I’m going to stay here until you come get me, I just saw your buddy go into your house!”

“He’s my brother, and he’s welcomed.

Leave.”

He hung up the phone well aware that she had begun to cry, but he knew this harsh tone would be the only way to get through to her. That night, she returned to her room with a ream of paper, a pencil and an eraser, ready to let her obsession boil once more.

He rested peacefully, knowing that despite her anger and sadness, this ordeal would help her grow. Sadly, he failed to realize that her belief was already too deeply engraved into her psyche. She knew they would be together someday; it was only a matter of time until he woke up and agreed with her undeniable truth. s

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Haunted.

I

Luz Rosa Alejandro sat on a marble bench in the middle of a courtyard. The area was surrounded by beautiful marble architecture. I gazed at it for a long time, it reminded me a lot of the monuments in Greece. I looked up and saw the blue endless sky through the glass ceiling above me. The ray of sunlight that passed through warmed me to the core. I sat with my head tilted back while my white dress moved along with the breeze. I felt like a princess sitting in the center of her beautiful castle.

A young man suddenly stepped out into the sunlight from between two marble columns. He had white porcelain looking skin and light blond hair. He sat next to me on the bench and looked at me curiously with his deep blue eyes. He was very handsome, but I was annoyed by his presence because I felt like he was invading my sanctuary. At first our eyes met, but mine strayed off into the sunlight overhead.

I thought maybe he would get the hint and leave, but he stayed there, still looking at me. From the corner of my eye I saw him smile faintly, then he said: “You still belong to me.” I turned my head towards him and angrily asked, “What did you say?” His smiled broadened as he answered, “No matter how much you try to deny it, to fight it, to run away, you will ALWAYS be mine.”

The way he said it scared me, but I stood up defiantly and said, “I belong to no one but myself!” I strode off quickly, wanting to avoid him at all costs.

Then he said something that made my heart drop: “What do you think your lover would do if he found out? I’m sure you’d come back to me.” I turned around, my voice full of hatred as I said, “Don’t you dare even--” but I never finished what I was going to say. He was gone, only an empty marble bench remained. I was frozen in place, wondering where he was. I figured that there wasn’t any point in looking for him, so I turned my back to the bench to

continue along my path. Suddenly, I found myself face to face with him again, so close that I had to step back. My soul turned to ice when I saw his eyes were no longer blue, but instead a black so deep they seemed never-ending. He had a malevolent grin as he said, “You were branded as my own the moment you called my name, darling.”

Fear made me lose the defiance I had before, and with a shaky voice I managed to say, ”I never called your name…” Without warning, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close. His cheek brushed mine as he whispered in my ear, “Oh but you did, I remember clearly how warmly you welcomed me, things just didn’t turn out how they were supposed to unfortunately.”

And in an instant, I remembered who he was.

Death.

My eyes filled with tears as I remembered how he was all I ever thought about, my only companion in my time of need. I had denied him in the end, but he still lurked around the corners of my mind.

And here he was, coming back for me one last time. And as I stood frozen in his arms, I saw from the shadows of the columns the silhouette of my lover. He stretched his arm toward me, but then let it drop, defeated by the choices I had made. He looked into my eyes with a pained expression, then turned around and walked away from me. I tried to break free from the arms of Death, just so that I could reach my lover and tell him I had changed. But Death

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held me still, and as I stood there helplessly in tears he whispered, “It’s over…”

His maniac laugh then changed into what sounded like a barking dog, and I found myself sprawled in my bed, swinging my arms in desperation. I quickly sat up, disoriented from the vividness of the dream.

My dog, who had been sleeping at the foot of my bed, was standing next to me, barking at nothing. I wondered if he had sensed something… I pet his back softly and said: “Shhh, it’s okay, it was just a dream…” At least I hoped it was. s

his crew were thinking about “giving the freak a lesson and show him why he could not be like us.” So I thought, “Why would someone want to do that,” and in less than a second, as if I asked him a question, his mind replied, “Because he is not normal.”

That day I understood all the strange thoughts running through my mind every second. No, I wasn’t a monster, he was so wrong. I was more like a mind reader guy with strange mental powers. Sadly, Jeffry’s mind after that day was not the same.

People say that he doesn’t stop saying my name. I still don’t know what my powers really do. s

Mind Freak.

Once Upon a Time.

I

O

Antonio Jiménez

was born in a bad moment. Some will remember the catastrophe that occurred in Chernobyl. Some will read about it on the Internet. But me? I was there, only not in person. I was swimming inside my mom’s belly when a toxic cloud covered our whole neighborhood. I was supposed to be born in four months, but for a strange reason, all my organs were developed before time.

Doctors could not explain how that could happen in only five months. They said that I was not going to live long enough because of all the radiation that had affected me, and recommended my mom to abort. But she didn’t listen. I was able to speak with anyone at the age of three, learned to read at four, and at six I was able to write an essay. Everybody was impressed, but more than that, they were scared. I noticed their fear when they looked at me and it was like I could hear their thoughts. “That’s a monster,” “There goes the freak…” Parents did not let their children play with me. But it was not necessary because in the deep of their minds they didn’t want to play with me. They were also scared because of all the things their parents told them. Time passed and I was a teenager now. Fifteen years old and still no friends for me. But they weren’t necessary. That day everything changed. It was a normal afternoon when Big Jeffry and

Jeanette Lastra

nce upon a time... Hold it, this is not that kind of story, it is a love story but not a fairytale. It’s about love, courage, fun, sadness, life and prayer. There’s this young girl named Piper Connor. She lives with her parents and younger sister, and she has this great boyfriend who loves her very very much.

He’s a football player in the Calabasas University. It’s a major university; only the most intelligent people get in. So enough about the boyfriend. Oh! Wait, I forgot to name him, his name is Scott Pickles and he’s 24 years old. Now where was I? Ok... One day Piper decided to go to the university, so she started to look at colleges through the internet. She thought, “Hey, this one is great!

Penn State University.” So one day she went to check the university by herself. When she got there, she passed by this man who said, “Hi, are you new here?”

She said, “Yes, yes I am. How do you know?”

He said, “Because you look lost.

Hahaha.”

She said, “Oh! Hahaha.”

From that day on, she started talking to him. Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce

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him yet, his name is Aaron Soser, and he was a janitor in the university. So yes, she became friends with him, she got accepted in the university, she decided what she wanted to study, and she kept on loving her boyfriend Scott. Their love grew stronger and healthier than before. Four years passed really quickly. Now she was a senior in the university, and she couldn’t decide whether to keep studying or to stop. As she was thinking about what to do, she decided to go and ask her good friend Aaron for advice.

When she got to his house, he was quickly open to listen to her.

He said, “What do you need?”

She said, “Aaron, you have been in my life for four years now, and you know me very well. What do you think I should do?

Should I keep studying and get my master’s degree or should I stop at my bachelor’s degree?”

He said, “Well, to be honest, if it was for me I would like for you to stay and keep studying. Why, you may ask yourself? It’s because I can’t live without you... I have fallen in love with you, Piper. I feel that you make me really happy; I get nervous when I’m with you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just... I know that Scott is your boyfriend and I respect you and him.

But I can’t help myself, I’m so in love with you that I get up early everyday just to see you. But if this decision was in my hands, I would say to do what your heart desires and no matter what happens in life, I will always remember the girl who gave my life some meaning.”

She said, “I... I can’t believe what you’ve just said to me. It’s impossible. We have been friends for so long and now, when I’m about to graduate, you come clean?

This is upsetting because I have had this relationship for many years now, I don’t want to leave him for you. No, I can’t, I love him. I’m sorry if I gave you false illusions of me wanting something more than a friendship.”

He said, “I know that I didn’t say anything for some time. But I know that you feel the same for me. I just know. I know this is not an illusion, it’s true. I love you.”

She said, “I know that you want me to stay here with you, but my heart is not here with you. I like you a lot and you are a really nice person and a great friend. But I just can’t be with you. I’m sorry.”

He said, “Well there is only one thing left to do.”

She said, “Wait! What are you doing?

No... Please stop, please just stop.”

He started kissing her by force and holding her close so she could not escape.

He tied her up with an old rubber rope he always carried around. He put a plastic bag in her mouth and started taking her clothes off, stripping her bare. Then he took a little knife he got from a shelf in a corner; he licked her entire body, leaving traces of saliva on her skin. Then he took the knife and started writing his name on her belly. She started screaming and trying to move but it was impossible for her to get him off her body. She screamed as loud as she could, but nothing was working. She started thinking of God -- where was he when she truly needed him? But she didn’t lose faith, she started praying and praying.

After Aaron had finished torturing her, he was going out the door when he realized a policeman was outside his front door with Scott. When he started opening the door, Piper started screaming again. Scott heard the scream, immediately recognizing that it was Piper’s scream. He ran, pushing the door inside, then he hit Aaron in the nose.

Aaron started to bleed and as Scott hit him once again, the policeman put him in handcuffs.

But now the important thing was Piper.

Was she ok, where was she? Scott got inside and searched the rooms and found Piper.

She was bleeding, crying and trembling.

She was very scared. Scott took her face and held it up so he could see her, but when

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he saw her face in tears he kissed her and hugged her. He told her, “Everything is going to be okay.” He carried her out of the room and into the car. He then took her home and kissed her goodbye.

A Girl named Bad Luck.

Xiomara Serrano Negrón

As time passed and Piper’s scars healed, she finished college and graduated with honors. The day she graduated, Scott finally proposed to her in front of her family and friends and promised to be with her and protect her forever.

Then they lived happily ever after. s

Trying To Wake Up.

I

Melanie Joy Nieves

t was just another day, probably a Monday or maybe Wednesday…

Anyway, my day started like any other day, with my alarm going off, telling me it was time to wake up. After probably five minutes I finally heard the alarm go off, and like any reasonable person who has an alarm clock, I reached out and turned off the alarm, happily going back to sleep.

Since I always do this, one day it occurred to me that I could set up a second alarm on my phone to go off in a catchy loud tune and wake me up. That alarm usually got me to spring up to turn it off since I didn’t want my family to wake up from the noise, but today, even that wasn’t enough to get me out of bed. As soon as I heard the first lyrics of the song, I reacted swiftly with ninja like reflexes to turn off my phone’s alarm, and just as fast, I went back to sleep.

What a dilemma I had! Here I am, snuggling in my nice cozy bed, having to get to the university, but I couldn’t even get up. So I pondered as I laid in bed what excuse I could give to the professor for being late if I couldn’t get myself out of bed and get ready. “Oh professor! I couldn’t make it to your class in time because I got tangled up in my bed sheets and couldn’t find a way to get out of them.” I knew that wouldn’t be an acceptable excuse, though, so hopefully she won’t ask if I manage to sneak in before class is over. s

A

young girl made her way through the streets of London, destination unknown, lost and upset. She felt out of place, being alone and not from London, and it was hard for her to socialize. By the look of her she had a bad day: her leather jacket was drawn tight around her, she lit a cigarette and kept going. As she went on, she stumbled upon a long line, a big crowd; they were trying to get in to a club and as she tried to just pass through she got sucked into the crowd, tugged, pressed, pushed and moved around. She tried to get out, but it was too much. When she finally managed it, her face was completely annoyed. She noticed a certain group nearby. They were odd, trying to make her hang out with them.

“What the hell is this, a Halloween party?” she thought as she ignored them. They were dressed in dark, both the men and women.

They made her feel uncomfortable as she walked fast in a direction far, far away from them. As she made her way through, one of the girls called her back, loudly. “Hey!” she exclaimed, and the Stressed Girl stopped for a moment. The random female was drunk, hanging on the arm of a strange man. She asked, “You take a class with me, don’t you?

I’ve seen you around…” She hiccupped then giggled, rubbing into the other’s arm. “Yeah, I’ve seen her too… Literature class, the college exchange student?” he said. There was very loud music in the background, she was near the entrance of

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the club; it was dark, dank and wet. The lonely girl answered, “Erm, yeah, I think so…,” walking away from them. “What is this place anyway?” she asked. The drunk girl responded, “Honestly? I have no idea, but…that’s the fun part! Come in with us!”

The guy added to the conversation. “Yeah, we don’t bite…” and gave a kiss to the girl on his arm. The Girl in the Leather Jacket took a drag from her cigarette then stomped it out, shaking her head. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass…,” she replied but the other girl kept insisting, “Oh come on! You look stressed girl, live a little! Live like it’s your last day alive!” she laughed, “Yeah, you’re still young, and you’re dressed in black, it’s all you need to pass,” with a wink.

The lonely girl had had a really bad day -“Why the hell not…” -- and as they looked at her expectantly, she said, “Fine, let’s go already!” That was the last thing she could remember.

After passing out, she opened her eyes slowly. She was in an expensive bedroom, but there was something else distracting her.

Her neck was hurting like hell, and it had blood. “What the…ouch…” she winced. She took a look at herself; she couldn’t recall a thing. “What the hell happened? Where am I?” she whispered. The only thing missing was her jacket, and her shoes were on the floor. Suddenly she noticed a woman lying right next to her. The woman had dark waist-length hair, bright yellow colored eyes that glowed in the dark, an exotic beauty in dark dominatrix clothing, drinking what looked like a glass of wine. The woman sat up, putting the glass on the bedside table before speaking. “Bonjour, mon petit, my name ‘iz Seduction…” she responded with a French accent. The poor girl screamed and fell off the bed -- “What is wrong with me? Why do I feel so strange? I can’t feel anything…”-- onto the floor, crawling slowly. And the attractive, pale young looking woman, Seduction, stood on top of the girl. “Because you ar’ dyin’…” The girl started to breathe with difficulty. “What!?

Why!? What did you…,” she gasped, trying to get air. The woman, Seduction,

got even closer, pulled the girl’s hair, and she whispered into her ear “Aye didn’t do a thin’, mon chere…if aye ‘ad…you would be enjoyin’ yerself ‘til your last breath…”

As she talked, she smelled the dying girl, and said, “Aye would be tastin’ yo’ body… every inch, querida…” She was suddenly standing, such an inhuman movement.

“But, I cannot…” She had moved to the door, about to open it “I will return…when you ‘ave changed…,” and then she added, “And, mon chere, don’t make a mess, an’ no screaming, entendu? Good.” She then vanished, and the girl was trying to stay alive. She was suffering, she knew she wouldn’t survive. She then saw someone else, a corpse, and she panicked. While the girl was moving out of control, Seduction was in another room, on the phone speaking to someone, in French. Back in the room, the girl began to move until she couldn’t hold it any longer. She screamed, couldn’t control herself, and then she was floating, up and down, literally, in the air. Her veins were throbbing, they became visible all over her body, and her voice got deeper as she kept screaming until she didn’t sound like herself. She was a monster with claws, her once beautiful, straight hair became messy, her skin became paper pale, and her teeth were like a piranha’s now.

Seduction stood up and cursed loudly.

She opened the door, grabbed the screaming girl. “Stop your screamin’! It eez not that bad!” she exclaimed. She gave a glare that would put anyone under the ground, but the sultry woman simply held her back down to the floor. “Do not try to ‘ight it, just let eet flow…” she whispered, and the girl kept wildly moving until she was tumbling around the room. The girl grabbed Seduction, and they wrestled around the room, floating, even crashing into things, until Seduction was smacked into the ceiling. “You know what!? Screw this…!” she yelled, her accent left for a second, as she took the girl by the neck and slammed her into the floor, stopping her.

The girl’s heart stopped, her eyes dimmed, and all memories were gone. The not-so-

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French woman stood, her back to the other, checking herself over, fixing her hair while the other was floating, her eye pupils staring at her, all black. She turned with surprise, “Oh…here we go…” The Girl who Floats grabbed the other by the head and slammed her into the wall and bit Seduction so hard she tore off skin. Seduction only laughed as her wound healed, her own eyes turning black while fangs peeked out of her mouth.

“I am stronger than you, niñita…,” she said to the beast of a girl, “…I’ve been very patient with you up until now…and you’re not my responsibility!” she exclaimed, but before she could do anything the wild thing that used to be human let go and threw herself through a window. She ran onto an expressway, not noticing anything until a car slammed into her, making her fly through the air and land like a rag doll on the pavement. A young man came out of the car, scared, he knelt next to her. “Oh no … oh my god…I killed her!” he exclaimed and then, all of a sudden, her eyes opened and she stared right at him, and his heart was suddenly beating too fast; a heart attack. The girl stood and began to walk away, weakly, she couldn’t see clearly and two men, exactly like her, bad teeth, horrible hair, came closer and Seduction as well. “There she is…she needs to feed,” one man grabbed her and they left.

Seduction sat in a cave. It was filled with beds and many of her “accessories.” Her eyes were glowing in the dark as she took in the many men and women there, fighting like animals. “Enough!” she yelled. “Bring me blood, now!” she ordered. Someone brought it to her, and she happily bit down before turning to the girl, having her drink from the victim. She did it so crudely that the exotic woman had to control her, but the victim was already dead. She threw the sack of bones away, while the girl fell asleep, and she smacked the girl’s face.

“Come on, niñita, change already…,” she murmured in a low voice, “Let’s see why It wants you so much… Will you end up like these imbéciles…or something worth it?”

Seduction was thinking about Bad Influence,

the father and mother of all the Creatures of the Night, who gave them orders to take care of the girl. And the girl began to change once more: her eyes’ irises turned red on their edges; her hair was back to its straight form, now a blue black with white streaks; her teeth shortened until only two fangs remained; and her skin was still as pale. She stood, gave a little smile, and she looked around for the first time. Seduction smiled.

“Well, well, que hermosa…I do believe… in honor of your first victim you shall be…

Bad Luck,” and she quickly checked her upper back, a mark: a tribal tattoo with two bat wings to its side. She smiled wider.

“Welcome, Bad Luck, you are officially a Creature of the Night…” s

The Padlocked Chest.

I

Axel Calderón

sneaked into the old abandoned house at the end of the street. I was surprised to find a small, padlocked treasure chest on a dresser in an upstairs bedroom. There was a note that said: Do not open. EVER! I also noticed a small key hanging on the wall. I tried the key in the padlock: it was a perfect fit. The second I opened the chest, a bright light illuminated the room. I started glowing and seeing everything in weird neon colors, I felt as if something was inside of me.

After a few minutes, I started feeling dizzy and pretty soon fainted on the ground. I’m not sure how long I was out, but judging by the dim room, it’s now nighttime and I opened the chest around noon. Once I take notice, I run out of the room. I begin to see a couple of changes throughout the house.

This seems to be a different house from the one I entered this morning. As I enter the living room, the whole room is filled with people dressed in an antiquated way, and everything about the house seems to be in perfect condition, as if it were just built.

Sudden shock fills through me; I run outside and notice that the rest of the town—heck, the whole landscape—was different, dirt roads instead of paved roads, wooden fences, and is that a horse carriage? I have a feeling that this has something to do with

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the chest…

I run back to the house, swiftly avoiding the weirdly dressed people in the living room. I run until I find myself back in the room with the chest. As I glance at the chest, which is still there, it looks like the same chest, only newer—the details are bright, the paint is intact. I approach the chest and open it; nothing is inside. I look at my surroundings; nothing has changed. I close the chest and open it again, still nothing. I stare at it for the longest time and, yep, it’s still the newer version of the chest I had found. I try everything that comes to mind to make the chest work again, throwing it, opening it, closing it, changing its position, and the list goes on. I’m running out of ideas and nothing seems to be working. It’s as if the chest lost its… its magic? I slump on a chair and begin to stare at the chest; maybe this will have some sort of effect? A couple of minutes into my staring contest, a lady comes inside the bedroom. I don’t notice her presence at first, until she screams for help; apparently I have the overall appearance of what a thief in this time period would have. I freak out by her yelling and even more when the door suddenly closes behind her. This makes the woman scream even louder—if that were possible. Unfortunately for her, the music outside is louder than her screams; no one comes up to her rescue— implying I’m a dangerous criminal of course. Once she figures out that no one is coming to her rescue and that I’m not going to hurt her, she asks me what I am doing there on her private party and what kind of clothes I am wearing. Ignoring the last remark, I reply that I’m simply trying to figure out what has happened. I explain in a nutshell that I believe that the chest is the key to my current situation. Straightaway, upon my mentioning the chest, her eyes widen, as if she sees something straight out of a horror movie. The lady moves towards the chest and asks me to open it, and for the billionth time, as I open it, nothing happens.

The lady lets out a heavy sigh and begins the tale of the chest. It seems the chest has some strange mystical powers, having

the ability to make people travel through time and space. Unfortunately, there is no way back—it’s a one-way ticket to your destination. I ask her why would she, or they, keep such a horrible item. She simply answers that the box cannot be destroyed, no matter how much they try or with whatever items they use. In addition, the box cannot leave this room. She says that the second you take the chest out of the room, as if by magic, the chest will appear back where it was originally.

Needing a moment to myself, I stare out the window. I’m not used to this different world outside; how will I ever fit in? Do I have to wear those weird pants? Lost in thought, I get hit in the head; consequently, I immediately lose consciousness. For what feels like decades later, at least to me, I open my eyes to find that I am once again in the same old bedroom in the abandoned house: the chest is still there, but the lady is gone.

I take a look inside the chest and see some strange mushrooms. I close the chest and step outside the house. The scenery seems to be the same as before, countryside as far as the eye can see. I realize that I’m wearing a bracelet: that’s weird, I don’t recall ever putting the bracelet on. I then remember the lady from the hallucination had one just like the one I’m wearing—thick grey metal, one red stone in the middle. It seems impossible to take it off. I stand there in shock. Was it all a hallucination? Is the chest really a travel machine? Where AM I? How did I get here?

Were my clothes white before? Who is that man running towards me? As all of these questions pop in my mind, the bracelet begins to beep and then everything goes dark. s

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As Subtle As A Flying Brick.

S

Fernando Nieves

he was pissed. The nerve of him to raise his voice to her like that! If she wanted to trade it in to get something newer and faster, she would. Then again, despite the fact that the paperwork only had her name on it, he was duly responsible for getting her car to the level that it was in. So many hours were spent tuning it...

All of this clouded her mind. She didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone on the road. It was probably a local hot-shot, but the car was coming faster than her 118mph! Maybe it was one of those that had gotten the latest equipment in high-velocity. Miranda remembered that she had not struggled so much in high-speed races ever since she started to lose when her ZX was still relatively stock: 300 horsepower was not enough when the competition started to upgrade.

Whoever it was, he was creeping up. Challenge accepted. Not giving the challenger a chance to align beside her and start at slow speed, she just went up a gear and went all out. She decided the route, he followed. If overtaken, she had to follow him. Her plan was to leave him in the dust and end it quick and swiftly, depending how long he could keep up.

Speed: 142 mph plus. He was keeping up with her. It had to be either tuned or exotic, perhaps both. Miranda knew that she’d soon run out of straightaway, so perhaps in high-speed corners she’d fare better.

No chance. The challenger made his move. The sound of his engine made ice shoot through Miranda’s spine. She knew this sound. This was no sports car, it was a truck, an old one at that! And no ordinary truck, it was his truck.

Ace’s Nissan Patrol. Talk about dejavu… Three years ago, when Miranda was beginning to struggle with the increasing

speeds of the competition, it was this truck that blew her away. This embarrassing moment convinced her to get her ZX tuned. With the license plate burned in her memory, she tracked him down. Turned out the guy was a tuner.

Miranda knew that Ace’s Patrol was powerful, but how much horsepower was it churning to not only get it traveling at those speeds, but also overcome the brick-like aerodynamics?! It was unnatural! And yet she was losing. In what little straightaway was left, Ace had left a clear message that in this situation, it didn’t matter the vehicle, but the state of the tune-up. Miranda knew that she couldn’t keep up. Also, Ace knew her car better than she did. That and his driving skills sealed the deal. This hit her like a brick, and just as subtly, too.

Miranda slowed down to 60 mph. If Ace could keep his truck competitive enough to beat her tuned machine, maybe he could make the ZX faster still. But it wouldn’t be cheap… No matter. She trusted him. And it only took what looked like a flying brick to beat her to come to the realization. At least she knew where to find him. s

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Love in War.

I

Keishla Cartagena once asked my grandfather about his life, but he wouldn’t answer. Then I asked him if he had gone through any tragedy; he didn’t answer either. After a while, I decided to ask him about his one true love, hoping he would say grandma, but he just smiled.

A week later, I went back to visit him at his house. We sat in the living room’s old, smelly, worn out couch, to watch TV. Then, out of nowhere, he started to speak nonsense: “Beautiful, just like the sunset. Golden hair, ocean blue eyes, snow white skin. A real angel.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you ask about my one true love?”

Surprise, surprise, he finally decided to talk. And here is how his story went: “Long ago, when the United States had been taken over by the Chinese, it was difficult to be an American citizen. The Chinese were very strict; they would have us study ten hours a day, six days a week, with relatively no breaks. They forced us to speak, read and write Chinese. Whoever didn’t learn the language in the sixmonth period they gave was thrown out of the nation.

“China had only one goal with us; revenge. Because of their constant bombing, every building was missing pieces, and even whole buildings were demolished.

The houses, that once looked glorious, painted in different colors, were now dull and covered in dirt.

People walked around with their heads down. The ambiance was eerie, filled with sadness. The

country reeked of death, and soon, war.

“Because of the limited tolerance they had with us, a rebellion was planned. Every other Thursday, former U.S. military men would have underground meetings to plan out how they would create a war to get rid of the Chinese. At these meetings, they divided tasks: one group was in charge of artillery, another was in charge of collecting ammo, a third was in charge of collecting canned food, and a fourth was in charge of preparing a safe place for the people to stay in. As for me, I had a special group.

“Once we had finally gathered everything we needed, a date was set: May 19, 2165. We had only one week to secretly share the news with all those who once could say they were U.S. citizens.

On our way announcing the event, many men enrolled to fight in the upcoming war against China.

“Since I’ve never been a coordinated person, the officials appointed me to deliver news. It was this, performing this task, that I met her. She answered when I called at the third house on my May 15 route. I’ll never forget that house, made out of wood, with rusty windows. Its windowpanes were filled with junk the Chinese had thrown in. The door was the only intact piece in the house; the rest was filled with holes from gunshots and looked very deteriorated. Ever since the Chinese came, everything could be a bull’s eye, which is exactly what happened to this house. When I walked up to it, I went up the three steps that led to the porch, and almost fell when they cracked. And, before I could knock, a creaking sound announced that someone already had heard me come. But, right in the middle of that garbage pile, she stood as gorgeous as no woman I had ever seen.

Her voice was gentle, though trembling. Her eyes, as sweet as honey, deep as the ocean, and of a

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mystical blue, were filled with fear as I gave her the news of the war. As she turned her face down to take in the news, the wind blew her golden hair to her face, sticking to her salmon-colored lips. Her hands, carefully crafted to be as feminine as they could be, went close to her face, taking her hair out of her face. She thanked me for the news, turned away, and walked back inside the house. At that exact moment, I fell in love.

“Who ever thought that I’d get a crush right before we started a war? Why did I have to find her now! It was basically impossible for me to even try to be with her.

We were four days away from starting the war, and I didn’t have the courage to face her and tell her how I felt.”

“If you were never with her, how do you know she was your true love?”

“If you let me finish, you’ll find out.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were finished.”

“The day before the war, I had to go around my route once again, so I could remind people to be prepared. I told those enrolled what their role would be and the positions they would take, and to all others, where the shelter would be. When it was time to tell her the news, she didn’t wait for me to get to the door. She ran towards me, hugged me and asked, with tears in her eyes, if I was going to fight. Before I could answer, she embraced me harder than before, crying and sobbing, cleaning her runny nose on my shoulder. I whispered to her ear: “I’m not. I only wish to stay with you and protect you from danger.” At that moment, she grabbed me by the hand, pulled me towards her house and closed the door as we entered. I couldn’t look at the house; we walked to her room with our mouths together.

“Once our love was consumed, I couldn’t find a way to walk away from her, but I had to. I put on my black trousers and

my brown t-shirt. Picked up my white and black ankle-high socks from the right side of her bed and put them on. Before I put on my black leather boots, I took a look at her, kissed her forehead, and put on my shoes.

I wrote her a note saying how sorry I was for leaving like that, that I truly loved her, but had a duty to fulfill. But that she should please go to the shelter and stay there, I needed to find her there.

“I came out of the house, with watery eyes. I hoped she would do as my note said; it didn’t have to end like this. Once I finished my route, it was too dark for me to go back to her house. I headed back to my house to spend the night, thinking about how everything worked out in my favor.

I still couldn’t believe how I went from not knowing her, to having had her body.

When I woke up, I headed to the shelter. To my surprise, she was the very first person to arrive. I couldn’t help running to her, embrace her and tell her how much I loved her. “And we’ve been together ever since.” s

Ava’s Friends.

I

Heisy González

“

f one cannot fight one’s demons, one must face them.” Mrs. Peacock, with her high pitched voice, her chest puffed out with pride, her chin too high and eyes closed, gave her never-ending advice to a table full of other elderly women having tea. Like her, the rest of the women dressed in strange colors and way too many feathers; their graying hair gave them the right to dress that way, they said. In Mrs. Peacock’s eyes everything was as should be: the table set with delicate china and bittersweet tea, wonderful pastries and a listening crowd.

Of course, they only seemed to be listening because at that age they had learned to sleep with their eyes open. But there was one thing Mrs. Peacock couldn’t stand about this particular tea party.

“What do you mean ‘face’ them?” said a tiny little voice from the corner of the table.

Only her big dark eyes would reach the

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edge of the table, for Ava was the tiniest of girls. Her bobbed hair only made her look smaller. But this small package was filled with an immense amount of curiosity; and that was intolerable for Mrs. Peacock.

“Where are your parents, child?” sighed the old lady with annoyance.

“There by the fountain, Ma’am. How do you face demons?” Once a question left Ava’s lips, there was no way she’d give up till she was answered.

Mrs. Peacock looked over the fountain to see her great-nephew and his young wife talking closely. Feeling her glare on his shoulders, the young man turned around, and took his wife a bit roughly by the arm.

“Well, Edgar, you should teach your child some manners!!” said Mrs. Peacock as they neared, a tight smile on their faces. “If one has meddling children, one must get rid of their spirits immediately!”

“We surely will, Mrs. Peacock” said Ava’s father with a polite smile that hung underneath thick glasses; his fist knotted a bit tighter. His wife stood beside him, widening her already wide eyes.

“I’m afraid we must part early, there’s some business to take care of. I am very sorry, great-aunt” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Nonsense, child! Just take that little bird with you.” Mrs. Peacock’s crooked noise pointed at Ava. Upset, Ava went towards the car, her question left unanswered. But she knew her parents well; best to let them be when they fought. Which in reality meant she kept out of their way most of the days and nights.

Ava’s little mind worked and worked, trying to figure it out. Face them? How do you face something so frightening? But, at last!, Ava figured it out, right when the car reached the porch. Her skinny legs made a run for her room and set about her table.

Ava’s tea cups were surely not as fine as Mrs. Peacock’s, but they were pretty enough. All that was left was to find some real tea. She tip-toed towards the kitchen where her parents’ voices were already raised and fists were being dropped on the counter. Being so small had its benefits, for Ava went in and out of the kitchen, stealing tea and brownies, and her parents didn’t even notice the door.

Everything was ready! Ava placed a bow on her head, fixed her dress and brushed her hair. She cleared her throat and opened the closet door with a whispered “Hello?” She knocked on the door, and then knocked on the border of her bed. She stood in the middle of her room and said in a clear voice, “I cordially invite you to my tea party!” Nothing in the world would prepare her for the delight in her heart. Mrs. Peacock was right!

The highest of argument tones was pathetic in comparison with Ava’s parents’ fights. The words didn’t even make sense one with another. Just curses and blames that neither could hear from the other because they were too busy yelling profanities.

“Mom… Dad?” said Ava peaking from the corner, “I want you to meet my friends.” Her voice was far from audible, the confidence she had when she was facing was all gone.

“Mom! Dad!” and still they didn’t notice her. They seldom even noticed her when they spent time with her, not even when they fought about her.

Ava’s mind felt crowded with curses, her heart tight and hurt. “MOM! DAD!” Nothing.

“SHUT UP!” Tiny little Ava said, “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” Mother and Father had finally turned around. How dare their child interrupt…

Mother’s wide eyes went wider,

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Father’s fists got tighter, but this time it was very different from a second before. It was horror and panic, with an edge of something else. Their little girl kept screaming for them to shut up, but they no longer talked. They noticed Ava, noticed her new found friends; Ava’s new friends noticed them as well.

Ava wasn’t sure why, but now Mom and Dad only smiled politely like they always do outside. They didn’t fight anymore, but they didn’t speak anymore. It was okay, the tea party was nice all the same.

“One must face their demons” Mrs. Peacock had said. Turns out they aren’t as bad as you may think. s

Annie.

Heisy González

A “

nnie” – a loud whisper from the girl who never talks. Her porcelain hands are cupped together, protecting something from an absent wind, as she enters her room. Her curls bounce as she looks for Annie. “Where are you?” she says in another whisper, but she already knows. Doing her best not to fold her dress without letting go of her hands, she gets underneath the bed, where big brown eyes await her expectantly. “Look what I found, Annie!” she exclaims, her voice barely audible at all. Annie’s brown eyes and pleasant smile peek at the girl’s hand. As she carefully opens them, a firefly is revealed in its dying moments, its light flashing softly as it fades. “I thought you may like it, but it got sick,” the girl says with a pout. But Annie’s calm smile doesn’t fade, as she comforts her friend.

She gasps! The girl’s legs are being pulled, and she holds her hands together in her chest, expecting the very worst.

“What are you doing?!” the mother says in an angry whisper. “You have spoiled your dress, and look at your hair!” The girl quickly fixes herself, her eyes cast down.

“Stop talking to that doll! What will the others say,” says the mother, taking the hand of the girl who never talks. s

The Strange Machine.

I

Adriana García

t was late afternoon. Monday I believe. It had been two days since my Uncle John had died. He was my best friend, the person who taught me everything there was to be taught. Without him I felt at a loss. My mother didn’t understand. I was her little girl. I had to be quiet and still and know only how to take care of feminine things, unlike what my Uncle had taught me. A month before his sudden death he had begun to teach me mechanics. I’d been so thrilled once both of us fixed his Hemmings Classic Car one afternoon. My mother almost had a heart attack: my dress was no longer the light pink it had been once, my hair was not in curls as they should have been, and my fingernails were not as clean as she had left them.

One of the things I most admired was my Uncle’s inventions. He was a #1 inventor. He invented half the things around his house, like the stove down in the kitchen that made tea with a push of a button or boiled eggs in just the pull of a string. But he also fixed things all the time. He liked to study and learn to make sure he could improve constantly. And so I followed in his footsteps till that dreaded afternoon when my mother walked in to my bedroom and said he’d died.

I was supposed to be downstairs helping with the guests, but all I could do was wander around the house I wished one day would be mine with all the gadgets Uncle John had made. Somehow, I made my way up to the attic hallway. I had never been up there. It was the highest floor of the house, the forth to be more precise. Uncle John had said it was strictly forbidden.

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There was only one door at the end of the hall. As I turned the knob and pushed it open, the lights flickered automatically.

This attic was no ordinary attic, it was an absurdly big room. See, my Uncle John was wealthy. Very wealthy. This was another reason why my mother disliked his way of “going around inventing things when he could’ve been a great lawyer,” -- her exact words. The room was filled with cars, tires, everything a mechanic would dream of late at night. In the very middle of the room a strange and large machine lay asleep. Different buttons, knobs, dials and levers surrounded it. I had never seen anything like it before. On one side, there was a button that said ‘on.’ Its golden edges shone, making it stand out more than anything. I went around it clockwise and counterclockwise, and it was still the biggest button on the metallic contraption. On one side it had a few steps that led up into some sort of couch. Its cushions were smooth and wine colored. With one last long stare I pushed the button. The machine suddenly came awake. A whistle was blown, vapor filled the air, and many lights came on while the machine made a low grumbling sound that assured me it worked properly.

I looked over my shoulder at the closed door. I was in the fourth floor; I was sure no one would burst in. I stared at the steps before tentatively running up and sitting on the couch. My hands smoothed down till they met with a lever to the side. Giving it a first pull did nothing, and so I grasped its round top with both hands and pulled as hard as I could. In a flicker I was slammed back on the couch with a nauseating feel.

The room around me became a big blur.

Panting with a cold sweat, I opened my eyes. Unclasping my hands from the lever with wide eyes, I gasped at the scenery. On a hill far away, a castle brightly lit by candles stood under the watchful full moon. I stood at the very edge of a jungle behind me as a cool breeze blew in the silent night.

I was no longer in Manhattan. s

The Twisted Tree.

D

Gabriel J. Alvarez

rought in the desert is never easy, neither for old bark, nor for young bark. I still carry with me the memory of that adolescent tree. It was a hot midday on the eve of summer, one of those days in which you feel you can actually fry an egg on a hot rock. The clearest blue sky you can imagine, with not one cloud to shield yourself from the sun, but even so, there it was, the twisted tree, as I have come to call it. It had its branches laid to the ground, like a palm tree in strong hurricane wind. Its leaves were almost non-existent, almost like a tree in cold winter. Not enough water to support itself, maybe not enough to last the summer, but it still tried to stand out. Be different. Call it however you like, but in my eyes that tree was successful in distinguishing itself from every other one in the dessert. It kind of reminded me of myself in junior high, when I tried to separate myself from everybody else, but just got caught by the current. It seemed the same had happened to the tree. See, it’s easy to become twisted when you don’t have enough water to support yourself. I didn’t know then what I know now. By the end of the summer it was just like every other tree in the dessert; it had given up. Lost within the crowd; being pulled by the other trees.

Till one day, kind of like the one when I first saw it, there it was again. This time it was different, it wasn’t twisted. The rain in autumn gave it everything it needed to rise above the other trees. Same as me as when I got to college. I just needed another type of life substance, and that was knowledge.

I was glad; I hope that, given enough time, the other trees can do the same. s

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Pestarzt.

B

Víctor R. Soto efore me, a table, on it, jars filled with herbs, a black overcoat, a bird-like mask, a brimmed hat and two black leather gloves. “Just the start of a new day,” I think to myself. Though that once might have been a happy thought, it lost that meaning a long time ago. I reach for the jars and I know that my routine has begun.

I take mint leaves, cloves, rose petals and camphor and fill the inside of my birdlike mask’s beak. It is worn out, what once was white and pure, has now turned dark grey and lost its luster. I take the heavy black overcoat and pull it over my head. It is as long as myself and thus makes a heavy thud once the fabric hits the floor. I pull the overcoat’s hood over my head and grab my mask. Making sure to keep the mix of herbs and smells on its inside, I put it on, its glass eyes matching mine as I fasten it on. Then I put on my brimmed hat and slip on two black leather gloves.

When I turn and face the mirror opposite the table, before me stands a tall dark ominous figure. My appearance seems demonlike, but my job is holy. My routine and drive are to aid and heal the diseased.

My sole purpose is to fight the black plague.

At first only a few were affected by this rodent-spread disease, but now it seems useless to continue. I do my best: I get patients fresh air and drinkable water, treat their wounds and perform bloodletting on them; this is hardly enough.

I look away from the mirror, turn right and walk forward. My garments bring a heavy burden, but I reach the door soon and as I walk down the long brick walled hall, the weigh seems to only get heavier. The day goes by fast, helpless patients, one after the other. Now, even some of them lay dead, thrown into the mass grave. My last patient is a house visit: I grab my equipment and leave to go there.

Her mother seems startled at my arrival.

I admit it, a plague doctor is not a pretty sight. She leads me through her small house into the girl’s room, facing away from the room’s door and ushering me in. The girl can’t be older than seven years. She lays in bed motionless, only moving slightly when she coughs. Her round face is colorless and scarred; she acknowledges my arrival by raising her eye level for a second and bringing it back down when she sees me.

Her breathing is short and makes a small whining sound as she tries to breathe in. I can tell by her state she is beyond my help.

As I turn to leave from her side, she grabs my hand, and thus I spend the night sitting on this child’s death bed. s

Irene.

I

Víctor R. Soto rene Periwinkle was your average little girl and that is just an understatement.

She was just about the same height as everyone in her class at school, her uniform didn’t help her stand out of the crowd at all, her facial features were nothing to be surprised by, and she looked just like every other girl. What set her apart from the rest was the simplest thing in the world: for some reason, beyond her understanding, everyone in her school had decided not to befriend her. Though being around people made her feel neither better nor worst, for Irene had grown accostumed to being alone.

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Being an only child, she had no brothers or sisters to play with, just a few cousins and a neighbors, but Irene never really found a good reason to interact with them. Her mother eventually gave up after many failed attempts to get her daughter to socialize -swimming lessons, camp and art classes, just to name a few. Her father, highly involved in his work, never seemed to care or even notice his child’s odd behavior.

Though lonesome as she was, Irene desired some type of interaction with other living beings. So in those days when she felt she truly wanted a change of pace, she would stand away from her bed, get out of the house and go for a walk around the small garden her mother cultivated with the utmost care. In the garden she talked to the flowers: she discussed fashion with the sunflowers, music with the tulips and shared beauty tips with the roses. She went around and sang along with the crickets, learned new things with the always wise hummingbird and shared recent news with the traveling bumblebees. One day after going through her parade of fantasies, Irene grew awfully tired and decided to take a nap near the big old oak tree that stood at the border of her house’s property. At the moment she rested her head on the tree’s roots, she went to sleep.

In her dream a paved road appeared.

She wasn’t a young girl anymore, and her garden friends were nowhere to be found.

Irene Periwinkle was your average woman, black suit and all. She walked down the paved road and with every step she took, a building appeared – a long tall building that seemed to go on forever. She was stumped by a particular building. This one wasn’t tall or even similar to the others. It was a toy store, and in the display a small scene was portrayed by dolls and stuffed animals. A doll of a little girl was set as the center piece and around her a vast variety of stuffed animals sat on shelves. Irene was too busy to stay and ponder these little things: she was a working woman and her job was of a higher priority. She placed her left hand on

the display’s window, gave a small sigh and kept walking down the black paved road.

She walked into her workplace and greeted the receptionist with the simple gesture of everyday. Her coworkers all wore the same clothing she sported. Grey seemed to be the only color allowed in the building.

On the elevator no one talked: only the background music and the ding sound on every floor broke the silence. When she arrived at her desk, she got right to work.

It was a monotonous job. She took a sheet of paper from the enormous pile that lay on the right side of her desk, read every detail on it, typed the most important details on the computer that took the left side of her desk, and finally placed the sheet on a small table she had set up next to the desk. Hours passed, and as her fellow workers left their desks so did Irene. This was how her days passed; waking up, walking on a seemingly endless road, longing for her long lost childhood, going to work, and eventually returning home to start it all over.

When Irene Periwinkle woke up, her eyes took longer to adjust to the brightness than ever in her short-lived life. She had only been asleep for about an hour. Then she heard her dad in the distance calling her name. He sounded worried. When he found her, she was taking some leaves out of her hair and adjusting her dress. He told her how worried he was; he thought something wrong could have happened to her and pleaded her to promise to never sleep out of the house ever again. She nodded in agreement. When they arrived at the house, Irene saw her mother standing with a smile on her face. She was glad her husband had found her daughter. Irene’s mother hugged her and walked her into the house.

That night she spent more time with her parents than any other time she could remember. They played board games, watched a movie and spent a great time talking to each other. Her mother read Irene her favorite book and tucked her in.

Her father turned out her room’s lights of and kissed her goodnight. That night Irene

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didn’t have any dreams in particular, or at least not one she remembered the day afterwards. That morning as she got ready for school she put on her uniform and tied her hair in a ponytail. Irene was immensely joyful. That day Irene decided to say hello to her neighbor; she took a different road while walking to her school, changed her ways, determined to make new friends in school.

Now Irene Periwinkle is no longer your average little girl... s

lay hoisted there. Was this some sort of game? What was going on? It was as if time had stopped. I slowly turned around, scared. Uncle stood on the door’s threshold.

He wore a strange necklace around his neck.

He had another one in his hand, both of them the same. He slowly approached me and put it around my neck. The next words that came out of his mouth I’ll never forget.

He said to me “It’s time you stop time.” s

Strange Machine.

Locked Chest.

M

Gabriel J. Alvarez

y uncle is an inventor. One day I was searching through the attic of Uncle’s house. I found a very strange machine with many buttons, knobs, dials and levers. I had never seen a machine like it before. On one side, there was a button that said “on.” I thought about not pushing it, but, before I even could grasp what was going on, I had already extended my hand and pushed the button.

The machine suddenly turned crazy. Lights flickered, the levers and buttons started to go up and down and it made a very strange beeping sound, the kind of sound that computers used to make when the dial-up modem was connecting to the internet. The beeping stopped as swiftly as it had started, but nothing happened. Astounded, I started to turn my head to every inch of that attic.

My eyesight spun to the window. I could see a bird through it, but what I saw couldn’t be right. The bird just stood in the middle of the air, it was frozen. “How can a bird lay motionless in the air,” I asked myself.

I slowly walked to the window and took a quick peep, not sure of what to expect. The cars in the middle of the street, they stood also. The kids! The kids in the playground

A

Gabriel J. Alvarez

s soon as I saw the key I knew I couldn’t contain myself. For all the time my eyes had lain on the chest, it had not been opened because I didn’t have the key. Fear; the hairs on my skin began to rise as my hand began to reach for the key. It moved on its own, I had no control over its movements. I screamed at the top of my lungs, I pleaded my hand to stop, but I was ignored. Once my hand grasped the key, in my heart I knew there was no going back. So close to freedom: what I’d been longing for so long was something I’d now forgotten and was scared to have. A life sentence: I’d been here for so long that this cell had now become my home. The chest that stood before me held the key to my freedom, to my cell. A joke between the guards, they tried to taunt me. “You may have your freedom, but you have to earn it” one of the guards said. A reminder of what was to come if I opened the chest. The rest of my life, pursued. Freedom? My pleas were finally heard as my hand let go of the key. I pushed the padlock chest out of the prison cell. I withered, grew old and died. s

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Review.

Kaisen X.

Fernando Nieves

K

aisen. I have no idea what that means, but it’s the name given to the series of bi-annual anime (Japanese animation)/sci-fi (science fiction) conventions in Puerto Rico, “X” probably meaning the tenth, though I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has lost count.

Due to the rising prices on locale rentals, organizers are forced to make the Kaisens take place wherever it’s more affordable, and this one was no exception. It wasn’t that far off compared to others, as it took place in Cataño, though it may be a little tricky to get to the Coliseo Beitia if you miss the exit from 165.

Website promotions were the only way to find out about Kaisen X. Not even the local newspapers gave any mention of it.

Said promotions did make it a point that the ticket was only $8 with free parking, a welcome relief to the collective pocket.

The facilities aren’t that big. It doesn’t even look like your typical “Coliseo,” with

the building entrance hidden in plain sight.

One wouldn’t find it if it weren’t for the helpful volunteers in the front! Inside, it was refreshingly cool, as it was air-conditioned.

Bathrooms were nice and big, and the concession stand was open. Bleachers were sparsely filled with people resting and friends/spouses/parents baby-sitting for the folks who actually wanted to attend the event. The main floor itself was surprisingly small, so much for the “stage.” There were workshops of different interests above said bleachers, ranging from digital photomanipulation tips to even a live pod-cast.

I missed them all. At least the card players had their tournaments.

There were very few exhibits and plenty of tables selling merchandise, ranging from eatable goods (both homemade and imported) to DVDs, books and assorted paraphernalia. The bigger ones had the blessing of ATH, the rest dealt with cash only, a burden when one has limited change and the ATM machine doesn’t deal in small

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bills. There were people dressed up: called cosplayers, they are people who cosplay (short for costume play), but despite a few amazing standouts, the numbers weren’t that great.

Some dressed for fun, but most were gunning for the prizes.

People were happy and friendly, always a plus. In fact, this was probably why I had such a good time, since, honestly, this wasn’t the best Kaisen that I’ve been to. It only felt full because the place was so small. Also, rules have been established which ranged from reasonable (like photo-taking etiquette) to confusing (why no “Free Hugs” signs? It’s a convention thing). I wasn’t so wild about the “No Mosh Pit” rule, either. Then again, the violent nature of “moshing” -which is basically people slamming into each other during aggressive, live music performances (Punk, Heavy Metal, etc.) -- can be intimidating.

Overall, I had a great time, though I had to leave before it closed at 6:00 p.m. You get what you pay for, for $8. If you’re new to the scene, it might be more than you’ve bargained for. For a regular like me who doesn’t get too heavily involved, it’s more or less the same as the last convention, unless you really look through everything. Who knows, maybe you’ll find something interesting, whether it’s an interesting item or a new friend. I found both. s

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Travel.

Goza what? Gozalandia!

Imaryarie Rivera Lastra

P

uerto Rico has incredible places to visit. The best of them are natural reserves. The island is full of beautiful rivers, beaches, mountain forests, lakes and other natural resources. Unfortunately, a lot of Puerto Ricans don’t enjoy them because they don’t know about their existence or they only know about the hotels near the beaches. Not to mention that our tourist guides always take the tourists to the same places, like beaches. In addition, sometimes we are focused only in other attractions promoted by the Puerto Rico Tourism Company, which is not complete with all the fascinating places we have. Don’t misunderstand me, I love to travel and the beaches, but I think that we are missing a lot of beautiful places that we can enjoy, and best of all, they’re free. If you plan to do some domestic tourism, I want to introduce you to an unknown place with a little river that God created for our enjoyment. This river is called Gozalandia.

Gozalandia is located on the west side

of Puerto Rico in San Sebastian. Getting there might be a little tricky, but here are the directions: First, leave from Mayaguez on Road #2 to the north until intersection 111 to Moca. Second, follow Road 111 until you reach intersection 446 and turn north.

Third, take the first exit (do not cut to the right, which is Sector Lechuza) and then you will cross the Guatemala River. Finally, follow the road until you see an esplanade that has a little gate which is the entrance for Gozalandia. I highly recommend using a GPS to have the correct directions. Besides the GPS, it’s good to ask around when you think that you are near. People in town will be pleased to help you.

Gozalandia is kind of a secret place in Puerto Rico with a giant waterfall where the rocks have the form of a face. It looks like it was designed on purpose; the way the clear water falls and how the rays of light go through the trees and plants. In the middle of the river, the water is very deep; it has a walkway to the waterfall and another one

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to jump to the middle. Of course, like any other river in the island, the water is very cold. You can go in the waterfall, swim in the river, sit on the rocks, take pictures and talk with your friends or you can just walk around. Whatever you like to do with nature, it’s allowed there.

The location of Gozalandia is far away from the city or other places. So, it’s a fine and good idea to bring your own snacks and refreshments because there is nothing near to eat or buy snacks. I don’t recommend bringing a barbecue to the river because you have to walk from the road to the river and that can take a few minutes. Also, the path is muddy and there is no space for cooking. The free space is small and is more for sitting and for your personal things.

This place is a great family environment. Children can go, but of course with supervision. It is a nice and different place to have fun and spend time with your family and friends. If you go, you will have a “green” day far from the city and the annoyance of everyday life. There is no other place like Gozalandia in Puerto Rico. Finally, we must remember that these places are ours and we should take good care of them if we want to enjoy them forever. I’m sure that if you go, you will create your own experience with a story and you will not regret the trip. s

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Vieques.

Dimary Cubero

The Start.

A

group asked me to take them from Isla Verde to Vieques for a unique island experience. We check for the ferry hours, which are always in the magazines. To get to Vieques, first take Route # 3 (east) or take the short cut of Route #66 to 195 until you get to the ferry pier in Fajardo. Once you get to the pier, you find out that they are taking too long -more than an hour to sell a two-dollar ticket.

As an alternative, you can take the taxi from the pier to the Ceiba airport (it takes about 10 minutes and the taxi charges five dollars per person from the ferry) and take a plane for 30 dollars one way. On a little plane for eight people you will discover the east coast of Puerto Rico: from a perfect viewpoint you will see sailboats, blue waters, the Conquistador Hotel, Marine Island, mangroves, lagoons, beaches, and several islands. It will be an amazing 10-minute ride. On the ride, I explain the story of Vieques.

Vieques -- the name comes from our natives, the Tainos. You’ll find “El Hombre de Puerto Ferro” archeological site and also el Fuerte Conde Mirasol. Conde Mirasol is a museum and cultural center. The U.S. Navy was here, and now some parts form the Vieques National Wildlife Refuge. Also I remember the most beautiful beaches that you can visit from the roads are Caracas Beach, Pata Prieta, Playuela, and Escondida.

Things to take with you.

At least two swimsuits, a set of clothes, a brush, some sunscreen, a map and around $200.

Once you get there it is easy to find a taxi cab. There is Letty, the best tour guide on Vieques: she works for Kiani Tours and also for the development of the community in cultural tourism. As soon as she knows that I am there, she makes the arrangements to visit Bio Bay and to stay at Pablito’s Guest House ($70.00 per night per 3 persons in

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each room, on Pinos Street, in Esperanza). I call Maritza’s Rental: she offers us a scooter ($79.99, with a deposit of $500.00). It is more expensive than a car ($59.99). On Vieques, you don’t need a car, and a scooter is more enjoyable than a Jeep, you will never stop smiling. But be careful: a lot people say that they have ridden scooters before, but they don’t know how to take the curves… ugh!

The Adventure.

W

e soon went to Caracas Beach (Red Beach), where we spent almost two hours. For me, it is one of the most beautiful beaches. It’s like a pool, like Flamingo Beach but in Vieques.

It doesn’t have rocks at all. It was almost 1:00 p.m. We decided to go eat, so we went to the Esperanza neighborhood, the best place to socialize in Vieques; home of good restaurants and “Empanadas de Chapin.”

Then we went back to the reserve, to Pata Pietra, site of the warmest water in the entire island. It has a coral reef where millions of crabs and fish live, making a little pool.

The water stays in the same place and that is enough to keep the water warm like a Jacuzzi.

After a while we were hungry and went back to Esperanza. You may also go shopping in the streets. This time I talked about Kiani Lagoon Tours ($10.00 per person, or Bio Bay, $40.00 per person). We decided go to the Bio Bay at 8:30 p.m. I made a reservation in Pablito’s Guest House for one night. We took amazing showers, but we put the swimwear on again!

Getting back to Esperanza and Road #997, we ate and talked about why Bio Bay or Mosquito Bay is “the brightest bioluminescent bay in the world” and the neon effect on the water. We would be discovering one of the most vulnerable ecosystems. The movements of rains, moon, wind, sounds -- everything that causes movement makes pyrodinium bahamense light up as a natural defense system.

Obviously, it has to be at night, and the most exciting way to see the lagoon is to

go on kayaks. Every time that you move it makes even the fish you see light up, too. I love to jump in the water, but they told us that a year ago a little shark bit a woman’s leg. The sky was so perfect: it rained a little bit and every time that we saw a drop fall into the water, the water turned neon in the darkness. Priceless.

After we went back to the apartment, we went to the Malecón in Esperanza.

Duffy’s (restaurant and bar) had people from other islands. The next day we went to Sun Bay and then to Caracas again. After that we stopped at “El Hombre de Puerto Ferro.” That site has energies that are out of this world. We stopped at the old piers of Esperanza. At the end of one, you have to play Pacman with your body, walking in a single line just for your feet, carefully getting to the end, and jumping almost 20 feet (jump just from the right side), and then you have a hard job to get back up, but there are some stairs so that you can get up again, and jump and jump…

On the way to the ferry, we went to Mr. Sushi, a Japanese couple on Vieques. They are from the north-east coast of Japan and serve very fresh and inexpensive sushi. At the ferry pier, we waited in line for an hour and paid our two dollars. In less than an hour and half we returned to Fajardo on the ferry, spending time to say, “See you again and thanks for the experience!” s Expenses. $30.00 - Airplane, $40.00 - Bio Bay trip, $5.00 - Taxis, $2.00 - Ferry, $79.99 - Scooter rental, $40.00 - Food & beverage, plus tips.

Acknowledgments.

Editorial Group.

Editors-in-Chief Adriana García Heisy González

Editors

Gabriel J. Alvarez Antonio Jiménez Reyes Jesybel Rivera

Proofreaders

Luz. S. Rosa Fernando J. Nieves Keishla J. Cartagena López

Design Staff.

Designers-in-Chief Víctor M. Martínez Víctor R. Soto

Designers

Axel C. Calderón Imaryarie Rivera Lastra Jeanette Lastra Melanie Nieves Natasha C. Rivera Nicole Negrón Medina Xiomara Serrano Negrón

Advisors.

Student Advisor Kathryn L. Robinson

Design Advisor Carmen A. Ortiz

Special Thanks.

Reprodución UPR Carolina