B.EASTSIDE - Spring 2013

B.EASTSIDE HOROSCOPES

VOLUME

1. ISSUE 1. SPRING 2013.

THE VOICE OF THE BRUINS

On Bullying

A WOMAN IN THE NBA? I won’t cry for you; my mascara is too expensive.

SNACK TIME: WHAT TO EAT FROM THE BRITANNIA POOL VENDING MACHINES B.EASTSIDE

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VOLUME

1. ISSUE 1. SPRING 2013.

THE VOICE OF THE BRUINS

table of

CONTENTS 2 NOTES REFLECTIONS 3 ON HER LOVE by Ashley dela Cruz Yip PAINTING by Michelle Chau 5 ON PERFECTION by Jana Radonjic ON LOVE by Anonymous TREE OF LIFE by Maria Mulder 6 ON BULLYING by Emma Renaerts I WON’T CRY FOR YOU; MY MASCARA IS TOO EXPENSIVE by Morgan Caruso 8 ON MOVING ON by Caitlan 9 ILLUSTRATION by Janet Van

GOOD FOOD 1 0

12

A MOMENT IN COLOURFUL HEAVEN

by Francine Su PHOTOS by Francine Su SNACK TIME: WHAT TO EAT FROM THE BRITANNIA POOL VENDING MACHINES

by Maya Madison

COMICS

1 3 SHADOW BOXER

by Raziel Summerfield & Coco Riot 17 TEENAGE OWNS by Daniel A. Martinez

SHORT STORIES

1 8 SHE WAS OUR SAVIOUR by Angie Banh IMAGES by Janet Van 25 JUSTICE by Alix Burkhart DUALITY by Alix Burkhart PAINTING by Emma Renaerts 26 THE FALLEN RACE: PART ONE by Wayne Lam 27 THE KISS by Morgan Caruso

POETRY

2 8 RED by babygurl2121 29 THE TRUE WARRIOR by Damon Huang A BEAT by Amanda Young 30 THE CHASE by swagkat626 WAITING by Ali Steinhubl 31 SPLINTERED by Charlie Mahler DAYDREAM by Iris Grages PHOTO by Vanessa Xu

OPINIONS 3 2

33 34

BLINDED FROM THE TRUTH by Jeanne D’arc Le IMAGE by Janet Van A WOMAN IN THE NBA? by Allen Diaz de Leon SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK: HOLLYWOOD’S NEWEST MOCKERY OF MENTAL ILLNESS

by Morgan Caruso

3 6 HOROSCOPES

by Damon Huang & Joel Rossi

Britannia High School in the 1920s. Photography by Walter E. Frost, from the City of Vancouver Archives.

NOTES

ABOUT THIS ISSUE by the Writing 11/12 class at Britannia Secondary School from December 2012 to May 2013. This magazine would not have gotten off the ground, though, without the amazing folks from the Writers’ Exchange, who not only coordinated the design and printing of this beautiful issue you’re holding in your hands, but, more importantly, brought in dedicated volunteer mentors to work one-on-one with the students, helping the young writers polish their work, hone their craft and say just what they wanted to say.

Tremendous thanks also go out to the entire staff and student body at Britannia, as well as all the friends and family members who support us everyday.

It takes real courage to publish your writing and artwork, to send your creations out into the world for all to see. The young people whose work is included in this magazine have all shown bravery and dedication as they worked to bring this issue into being. I’m tremendously proud of all of them, and I’m lucky to be their teacher.

B.EASTSIDE WAS CREATED

Shannon Less Teacher, Britannia Secondary

N OT E S O N S O M E O F T H E CO N T R I B U TO R S MANY STUDENTS WORKED HARD

to make this magazine a reality.

These students include: ANGIE BANH Angie: a small and shy girl. She laughs and smiles. But really, she’s just another girl trying to succeed.

DAMON HUANG Damon is a student at Britannia Secondary. He is engaged in an epic battle with his mind. Currently, he is winning.

MAYA MADISON Maya is a swag girl. Much love and swag. Swag yolo all day. #swag #yolo #mayasgotswag JANA RADONJIC Yeah-nuh. Not Yawn-ah. Not Ja-na.

Yeah-nuh. Faeries. Daisies. Spiderman. Tea.

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JOEL ROSSI Joel Rossi is, among many things, one of the greatest human beings ever to grace the Earth. A graduate of Harvard University, he also spent time at the College of Southern Nevada. He is an amazing person who resembles a Greek god, and his voice is a mixture between Fergie and Jesus. He is a Beast.

FRANCINE SU Hi! My name is Francine, and I love eating food because it’s something we all need to live. I hope you enjoy reading this!

PUBLISHER The Writers’ Exchange SENIOR EDITORS Angie Banh, Morgan Caruso, Damon Huang, Jana Radonjic CONTRIBUTING EDITORS Allen Diaz de Leon, S.H., Seaira Keshane, Jeanne D’arc Le, J.M., S.M., Maya Madison, K.N., N.P., Joel Rossi, J.S., Francine Su WRITERS’ EXCHANGE MENTORS Alysha Bains, Dana Chan, Christy Fong, Jennifer MacLeod, Stacey Matson, Jodi Muzylowski, Dan Post, Emily Vucic, Anna Warje MANAGING EDITORS Shannon Less, Sarah Maitland DESIGN AND LAYOUT Eric Uhlich, oktober.ca COVER Art by Janet Van Copyright © 2013 The Writers’ Exchange The Writers’ Exchange makes literacy exciting and accessible for inner-city kids through free mentoring and creative writing projects like this magazine. All Writers’ Exchange programs are free for the children, youth and families we serve, so we could not exist without the support of generous donors, including Megan Abbott, Marily Mearns, the Vancouver Foundation, Lindsay Mearns, Nancy and Ted Maitland, Bernard MacLeod, Claudia Casper and James Griffin, and Claudia Cusano and NUVO magazine. Thank you. And thank you to the amazing volunteer mentors who work with the kids in all Writers’ Exchange programs so that each student can succeed to the best of his or her ability.

This magazine exists because of the hard work of the talented students and dedicated staff at Britannia Secondary School.

Thanks so much, Bruins!

Printing for this magazine was generously donated by Hemlock.

Writers’ Exchange in-school projects are made possible by the Vancouver Foundation.

The Writers’ Exchange is a project of Tides Canada Initiatives Society.

881 East Hastings St. Vancouver, B.C. V6A 1R8 To learn more about the Writers’ Exchange and read more great student writing, visit vancouverWE.com

R

REFLECTIONS

ON HER LOVE

By Ashley dela Cruz Yip “I LOVE YOU.

Be mine forever.

Be free.”

My mother’s words envelop my mind as I sit at the kitchen table, warmth radiating through me from my over-steeped orange pekoe tea and my overly fluffy robe.

I am loved.

I am hers.

I am free.

Throughout my 17 years of life, I have never been more certain about anything than these three concrete facts. She makes it clear to me and my sisters that we are loved unconditionally and without judgment, hers without question, and

PAINTING BY

Michelle Chau

completely and undoubtedly free from restraints or ordinary constraints like gravity.

Because of her, flying is no irregularity but a normal part of my daily life.

Her giving me the ability to fly made it easier to come out of the suffocating and dark abyss that was my reality, my closet.

I was never scared of coming out as an openly bi-sexual individual. When I had realized, though, that my feelings for the male gender were significantly less than the feelings I could muster for the female gender, I had more trouble accepting it due to societal views of bi-sexuals compared with full,

WHEN I DID COME OUT TO MY MOM, THERE WAS ELONGATED SILENCE. A SILENCE THAT WAS SO LOUD, IT WAS INHERENTLY DEAFENING.

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REFLECTIONS

one-sided lesbians. This is a problem that is regularly apparent for numerous queer youth throughout the world.

“If I came out to her, she would accept me. But… I can’t put her through it. She’s done so much for me,” stated a closeted lesbian on an online blog filled with “coming out” or “staying in” stories. This particular woman is scared of putting her mother “through” the experience of being the mother of an openly out lesbian. I, thank God, have never felt this way.

I am loved.

I am hers.

I am free.

I’ve never felt the need to hide for anyone else’s benefit, even if they have done so much for me, and never from my mother. When she wants me to do something—clean the kitchen, take out the trash, feed the dog—and I decline, she says, “My body made you from scratch, you know. Sure, I had a microscopic bit of help, but the rest, it was all me, baby.” My father was never there, emotionally or physically, but we are forever grateful for his microscopic donation.

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When I did come out to my mom, there was elongated silence. A silence that was so loud, it was inherently deafening. But her words were the opposite of hateful and, instead, were full of complete understanding. “Why did it take you so long to tell me? What if people judge you? What if they try to persecute you for being who you are?

I love you. I love you. I love you.” For every question she had, she balanced it with a statement full of love and heartfelt gratitude.

Because no matter the situation, she will love me with every fiber of her being, with the blood that travels from her young yet wise heart to her lungs that help her breathe the words.

She loves me and that is all I need from her.

Coming out to the world is a different story. Full of similarities but beaming with potholes. Leviticus has been spit upon me. Homophobic terms have filled my ears with disgust. To some I am nothing but an abomination.

A black sheep. Different. The opposite of normal. But what defines normal and who is defining it?

I remember going to church every Sunday after Sunday school through-

out my childhood, the pews smelling strongly of oak and the whole building emitting what I believed to be holiness.

Holiness, not wholeness—that should be made perfectly clear. My eyes wandered from the priest dressed in white to the girl sitting four rows up dressed in navy blue. My thoughts were impure, unjust and uncertain. Would wanting a kiss from a pretty girl send me straight to hell? Would the Lord smite me for having sinful thoughts?

I was eleven and an eternity in hell was looming in the forefront of my mind.

But as I grew, I became more aware of who I was and what I know completely.

I am loved.

I am hers.

I am free.

And without knowing what my future holds and who or what will stand in my way or give me hell for being me, I know these things like a lover knows his true love’s facial features.

And that is all I need.

B

REFLECTIONS

R E F L EC T I O N S S N A P S H OTS

ON PERFECTION

By Jana Radonjic

TODAY I REALIZED THE PERFECTION with

which I live. The perfection of my friends, family and mind. But also the perfection of my enemies, bullies and flaws. Of my love and sorrow and joy. The imperfections that bind my perfect world. The tears. The heartache. The laughs and giggles. The perfection of this moment brought to us by the imperfect past and the even more imperfect future. The perfection of all of our struggles—alive, dead, unborn. The scars and bruises.

The stubbed toes and cut knees. The messy hair. The perfection of every argument and every disagreement. The moments when you laugh so hard you cry, and the moments when you’re crying so much you laugh. The rainy nights. The sunsets. The endless sky of clouds and stars. The life you live—that perfect life, filled with never-ending imperfection and beauty—is just the way it should be. B

ON LOVE

By Anonymous

THE WAY HE SAID, “I LOVE YOU,” made

me melt. It’s like a fairy tale, the way it rolls off his tongue. It’s like it’s meant to be. Then, the way he hugs me, the way he kisses me. I’m melting.

He’s so good to me. LOVE. Feeling wanted; feeling loved. He loves me.

Me, out of all people. The way he makes me feel: so adored, so… What’s the word? LOVED. So young, so damaged, but so loved. B

Tree of Life by Maria Mulder

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REFLECTIONS

ON BULLYING

By Emma Renaerts in October. Teachers were told not to discuss it in classes, and if it was unavoidable, to treat the subject with the utmost caution. Amanda Todd had been bullied to the point of depression, self-harm and finally suicide. Her case was glamorous; her video went viral on YouTube.

The media coverage was unavoidable and tasteless. This amount of publicity is rare. Bullying is rarely discussed in constructive ways, if at all, in our society. Countless children are pushed to the point of no return, killing themselves because of the harmful actions and words of others. There is nothing light about this subject. Not everyone who is bullied ends up dead. But even if you do not give in to the darkness encroaching into your life, you still suffer from the residue. You still feel the pain of the blackness, the little spots you can’t wash off, no matter how many times you mutter, “Out, damn’d spot!”

Unless you have been bullied, you can’t know what it is like. And even then it is different for every person. No two cases are ever the same.

Invisible hands close around your throat. You cannot breathe. You cannot even think. At any moment, you could black out. You feel cornered, helpless, weak and alone.

Invisible hands prick you. Stab you. Grab your intestines and wrench.

There is pain coming at you from all sides. Black begins to creep into the corners of your vision and into the corners of your mind. You feel cornered, helpless, weak and alone.

MOST OF B.C. WENT INTO A FRENZY

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i won’t cry for you; my mascara is too expensive

by Morgan Caruso

REFLECTIONS

The effects of bullying have a will all their own. Separate entirely from the bully, these invisible hands reach out and hurt you. Sometimes these hands become real. They leave bruises on skin and on soul. Sometimes these hands tie rope and guide you to it. Or pick up razor blades, cutting to kill. You are helpless against these invisible hands. You want to run, but they hold you stockstill. A cow for slaughter.

A cow for slaughter. A deer being stalked and hunted. I felt hunted. Every day for almost two years. My bully was out there somewhere, waiting with her invisible hands, invisible bow and arrow, invisible butcher’s knife. Ready to grab me, pull and tear at my happiness and stability, cut me from myself, cut me down to pieces lying on the floor. A wet, sobbing mess. And I could only stand there. Stock-still. A cow for slaughter.

Knowing that I would be slaughtered, knowing my fate. Unable to resist.

How does anyone ever move on from this kind of pain? Writing this I am once again feeling this—physically, deeply, uncomfortably. I am shaking. I am close to tears.

I shed countless tears. Too many tears. So many tears my throat was raw

and aching and my face blotchy. I hated it. I still hate it. Crying in front of others is still something I have trouble doing comfortably. I can’t often control my emotions. I can’t always hold my tears in. I shouldn’t want to. I do, though, be-

INVISIBLE HANDS CLOSE AROUND YOUR THROAT. YOU CANNOT BREATHE. YOU CANNOT EVEN THINK. AT ANY MOMENT, YOU COULD BLACK OUT. YOU FEEL CORNERED, HELPLESS, WEAK AND ALONE. cause this lack of an ability to hold back tears made me the best cow for my bully’s slaughter. The best target for those invisible hands.

These predator-prey relationships between bully and victim, they outlive the bullying itself. It’s fear. It’s helplessness. It’s raw emotion. I still can’t face

down my memories fully. I am still the prey in my own mind. Still the quivering, shaking rabbit unable to face the mountain lion hot in pursuit of me. I am still quivering.

Countless children are bullied every day. At school, at home, on the streets, on the internet, through texts and voicemails. Verbal and physical abuse darkens the lives of millions. The invisible hands lurk in the sidelines, waiting for their next target. Their next hunt. These countless children feel cornered, helpless, weak, and alone. How do these countless children ever move on from this kind of pain? How do any of us become someone who can no longer be preyed upon? How do we allow the darkness to go unnoticed, the black spots to build up to pools of pain and sorrow drowning out the life force of the millions? How do we leave these issues out of our discussion? How do we allow the Amanda Todds, publicized or not, of this world to continue to be sad realities of our world? The amount of pain in this world, the amount of pain of these countless children, it leaves me shaking with all of my emotions, all of my questions.

How? B

B.EASTSIDE

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REFLECTIONS

ON MOVING ON

By Caitlan because no matter how I word it, you will never know what I felt like in that instant. But I’ll try.

In those moments it was like everything was being taken away from me. I felt like I had been robbed and left with nothing, and when the realization hit me, I couldn’t move, couldn’t cry, couldn’t talk. It was almost as if something in me shut off, and I couldn’t feel because I didn’t exactly know what to feel. And then it hit me all at once, and I couldn’t choose what to feel first because I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry, to plead with you to stay. I wanted to kick you and to kiss you once more all at the same time, but all I could do was stand there and just let you walk away. And when you finally left and I could only replay the memory of your figure walking off, I slowly let myself fall to the ground and pulled my knees up to my chest, and my breath became jagged and rapid. I finally let myself sob. At first they were weak, quiet sobs, but then they got louder, heavier and uncontrollable. I remember that feeling so well. It was as if someone had just slammed a hammer against my chest. All I could think about was that I could never have it back, all the laughs and fights and smiles, all the silly moments, the stupid ones and the adorable, cheesy ones. And especially all of our intimate moments. I trusted you and gave myself to you in every way possible—and all for what? Just like that, everything was over. I don’t know how I let it happen because I rememI’M AFRAID TO WRITE ABOUT IT

ber a few days before, everything felt so right, so perfect. I can still remember so vividly the feeling when you left me, and if you’ve ever had your heart broken, I’m sure you can recall what that’s like. Thinking about it makes me hurt

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WERE BAD. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS LIE IN BED AND SLEEP SO I WOULDN’T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE WHEN I WAS AWAKE, THAT’S ALL I DID. all over—and, to be honest, I’ve thought about it a lot.

The next few weeks were bad. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and sleep so I wouldn’t have to think about you, because when I was awake, that’s all I did. Seeing you at school was hard; I didn’t know whether to pretend to be happy and okay, or show you how much you hurt me, so I just kept a blank facial expression. I stayed quiet, distanced myself from friends, listened to music.

I didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. I just felt so numb.

As I’m writing this, I’m thinking how crazy it is that one person can have that effect on another. Now I think I’m okay, and whenever I see you I still feel

sad and all our memories come flooding back, but I feel like that’s all I have left to lose—because I’ve already lost you. After all this time, I still think about it—not as much as before, but I do. Like late at night or when the sky turns a certain shade of blue, like the second time we kissed. As amazing as our first kiss was, our second will always be my favourite: we were at the beach again, watching the clouds and talking about the sky, how it was never ending and how it reflected the ocean that we were lying right beside. Everything felt so calm and soothing; then you grasped my face, looked me dead in the eye and kissed me with such passion.

I’ve accepted that I can never have that feeling, that rush of excitement you gave me, without having to share it. And I’m starting to be okay with that. I’m going to start to distance myself from you, and that’s something I don’t want to do and it’s really hard. I’m going to miss being the reason behind your smiles and laughter. I’m going to miss being the reason why you refuse to let sleep claim you at 4 a.m., when your eyelids get heavy and your voice gets groggy. It’s over; it’s been over for a while, and all I was doing was holding onto that feeling that you gave me in hopes you could give it back, that “in love” feeling.

How I know that it’s really over is that I feel more in love with our memories than I do with you; maybe that’s because I spend more time with them than I do with you—but I can’t change that now. That day a few weeks ago ILLUSTRATION BY

Janet Van

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REFLECTIONS

when we encountered each other in the store, I got that feeling I usually do when I’m around you. When I feel like my knees are about to buckle and my stomach ties up in a knot and I feel sick.

The only difference this time was that when you left, I felt relief wash through me. Before, when we were together I felt like something was missing, and I craved another second of you in my

presence. All I wanted was to hold your hand again, some physical assurance that you were still there. I used to feel like I wasted my time on you, but now I’m glad. We were once happy, and maybe we were meant to love each other dearly, but just not meant to be together, and that’s okay. I know that I’m still not completely okay and I know that it’s always going to be broken and

unresolved between us no matter how many times we try to resolve it, because we’ve tried so many times. I’m just happy that I can honestly say that I don’t regret anything with you anymore; I don’t regret us. All those days I held your hand, I’m happy I did. I’m happy to have held your hand on those days when you were that exact person in that exact moment. B

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GOOD FOOD

A MOMENT IN COLOURFUL HEAVEN

macarons. It cost $15.06 for all of us to share! That is pretty expensive for desserts, but I think it’s worth it.

Macarons may be a bit too sweet if you eat too many at once, but one or two is just enough. Also many French macaron bakeries sell other yummy desserts. French macarons are definitely something you should try when you have a little bit of money.

By Francine Su

Macarons and macaroons are commonly confused, but they are completely different from each other. A macaron is made up of two sweet meringue-based confections made with egg whites, icing sugar, granulated sugar, ground almonds or almond powder, and food colouring, usually held together by jams, ganache and/or buttercream. A macaroon is a chewy type of shredded coconut cookie made with egg whites, ground almonds and sugar. So don’t be confused!

to try macarons. I always wanted to know what French macarons tasted like because they’re very colourful and offered in a variety of flavours. So, last fall I told my friends about my craving and we went to Thierry Chocolaterie Patisserie Cafe, where we purchased a box of seven LAST YEAR I HAD A CRAVING

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MACARON OR MACAROON?

PHOTOS BY Francine

Su

D

GOOD FOOD

THE HISTORY OF THE MACARON

ADVENTURE OF JOUR DU MACARON

Macarons originated in Italy and then launched to France. The French macaron was introduced by Catherine de’ Medici when she was married to Henry II. She brought along her chef who introduced many varieties of French desserts. The macaron was first just made up of simple ingredients like sugar, ground almonds and egg whites, with no fillings or flavours. Later in the twentieth century, Pierre Hermé introduced the idea of taking two soft meringues and making a “sandwich” with jam, ganache and/or buttercream.

This year I finally experienced what Jour du Macaron is like, with my good friend Anna. We went to several bakeries that sold macarons and desserts.

In total we went to five different shops.

They all had different types of donations and deals. At Leonidas, it was three macarons and a cup of tea for $5.

At Thierry Chocolate Patisserie Cafe, they were promoting their limitededition cherry blossom macaron and donating 10% of their macaron sales to the St. Paul’s Hospital Foundation. At Bel Café, the strawberry lemon macaron was $2, and part of that money went towards the Greater Vancouver Food Bank Society’s Kids’ Picks program, which provides snacks for children ages 18-months- to 6-years-old. Our second-last stop was Soriette. At Soriette they have such nice decor, which brings out the beauty of the macarons when you first step in the store. When we first arrived, we were greeted with

MACARON DAY!

Macaron Day (Jour du Macaron) was initiated by Pierre Hermé in 1995 and was first celebrated in Paris. Now Macaron Day is celebrated worldwide and in Vancouver. Every March 20, participating dessert bakeries celebrate Macaron Day by holding special promotions, with part of their profits going to charity.

the promotion of Jour du Macaron and with a cup of tea. All we had to do was donate a small amount of money to the Make-A-Wish Foundation and then choose any kind of macaron that was displayed on a tray. Before we headed home, we stopped by French Made Baking, where we made one more donation for only one macaron, because we had already spent a decent amount of money on the other macarons!

This is my first year going to Jour du Macaron. It was an amazing experience going to a variety of places. I would totally recommend going to Jour du Macaron next year. Unluckily, I missed out on Kitchening & Co., where they had an awesome deal on macarons. If you do not have time on March 20, you can always visit French macaron bakeries any day during regular hours. It’s always a good thing to try something new! B

B.EASTSIDE

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GOOD FOOD

SNACK TIME

WHAT TO EAT FROM THE BRITANNIA POOL VENDING MACHINES

By Maya Madison

SMARTFOOD POPCORN

Price: $1.75 Taste: 9/10 Value: 8/10

CRUNCH BAR

Price: $1.50 Taste: 10/10 Value: 10/10

HOOPS

Price: $1.00 Taste: 9/10 Value: 10/10

GUMMY WORMS

Price: $2.25 Taste: 10/10 Value: 7/10

PEPSI

Price: $1.00 Taste: 9/10 Value: 10/10

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Smartfood popcorn is a delectable snack to eat between classes and share with your friends. It’s always in stock at the vending machine, so you won’t have to stress about it running out. Smartfood popcorn has an amazing taste and everyone will love it!

The only cons of Smartfood popcorn are that sometimes it gets a little chewy from being in the vending machine for too long. Also, if you go to the store, it’s 25 cents cheaper for an even bigger bag.

Overall, Smartfood popcorn is a great buy, and you’ll love the flavour. Definitely not a waste of your well-earned cash!

Crunch bars are sold at a great price of only $1.50! That’s 6 cents cheaper than at the store. Crunch bars are extremely delicious and make a yummy snack.

There are pretty much no cons to this delectable treat, other than that they sell out too quickly!

For only one loonie, you can buy a delicious bag of Hoops. You can snack on them between classes and share them with your friends. Marry your besties by simply slipping the hoops onto your friends’ fingers.

Sold at a great price, only at the Britannia vending machine!

These Gummy Worms are amazingly delicious. Share them with your friends and pretend to be a bird! There are so many things to do when you have Gummy Worms!

There are some cons to them, though, like how you can buy them at the store for only $1.00, and how the bags are so hard to open… like seriously! Also, nobody’s got time to grab an extra 25 cents. They should just make the price an even $2.00.

Gummy Worms are incredibly tasty, though, so don’t hesitate to buy them at the vending machine.

The Pepsi in the vending machine is cold, delicious and quenches your thirst. It’s great that it’s only $1.00, seeing as that’s a whole 56 cents cheaper than at the store.

I find it great that Pepsi is only $1.00 and Coke is $1.25. No one’s got time for that! Get a Pepsi instead. It’s cheaper and tastier!

C

COMICS

Created in a collaboration between a Britannia student and a Montreal-based artist.

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COMICS

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COMICS

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COMICS

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COMICS

COMIC BY

Daniel A. Martinez

B.EASTSIDE

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SHORT STORIES SHE WAS OUR SAVIOUR

By Angie Banh

F

or centuries, there has been a war between two supernatural family bloodlines. These bloodlines were created by two Helias: keepers of celestial bodies, trying to end a feud with each other by winning. This feud is over which celestial body is better: the Sun or the Moon. The Helia of the Sun, Solaria, created the Solaria bloodline. The Helia of the Moon, Cresenta, created the Cresenta bloodline.

The past guardians have failed to complete their task before the deadline, however Earth is lucky that Cresenta did not have enough Cresentins to take over Earth and had to wait another twenty years.

It was the year 2012 and a new guardian of the Sun had been chosen. Her name was Averie Avalon and she was a descendant from the Solaria bloodline.

This is so boring. I hate math, especially when it’s last period. I wish my life were more exciting, like how it is in superhero movies, Averie thought.

With the clock striking 2:30 in the afternoon, Averie felt a slight prick on her back. When a guardian is chosen, they will have a small tattoo of a sun imprinted on the back of their left shoulder.

Ouch. What the? My skin… I feel like there is something on it, she thought, while feeling her shoulder.

While she was trying to ignore the aggravation of her shoulder, something behind the window caught Averie’s attention. The glare from the sun obstructed Averie’s vision, causing her to squint and lose focus on her teacher. Averie tried to open her eyes and see through the glare, but all she could make out was some sort of figure. It disappeared quickly into the shadows as soon as she turned her head.

What, or who, was that? Averie thought. Five minutes passed as she stared out at the window. “Maybe it was nothing.

Probably just my imagination,” she said aloud.

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“What was that? Averie! Is there something you need to add to this lesson?” Mr. Surcream snarked.

“Uh… No. Sorry for interrupting,” Averie apologized.

“Hmm? Is that some hesitation I hear? Share. The class is all ears now, anyway, since you interrupted the lesson.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” Oh my god… This is so embarrassing.

WHO THE HECK ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU HERE? THIS IS THE GIRLS’ BATHROOM. GET OUT! “I’ll see you after class.” Mr. Surcream continued to teach his AP calculus class.

Great. Got myself detention. What else can make this day go any longer?

The figure that Averie saw was still puzzling her. She couldn’t focus her attention on the board. She felt as if it were real; it wasn’t her imagination.

Averie was one of the brightest kids in her AP calculus class, to Mr. Surcream’s dismay. He had a liking for failing kids, which is a horrible thing. He only had this job because his wife was the principal.

After the final bell rang, Averie asked to go to the washroom to examine the pain on her back.

“No. You can’t go. You interrupted my class and now you are trying to get out of detention? Disrespectful!” Mr. Surcream shrieked.

Averie took a seat and took a deep breath to brace herself for the yelling.

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“You are the most disrespectful kid in this class! How are you even in my AP class? More importantly, how are you excelling?”

Averie’s chin was down and she closed her eyes, flinching when Mr. Surcream continued to raise his voice. Her hair swung against her face at the touch of his breath.

Abruptly, the yelling stopped. Averie thought he was just catching his breath, so she continued to close her eyes. She did not hear a sound, not even his breath. Averie opened her eyes to find Mr. Surcream lying on the ground, unconscious.

Stricken with curiosity and confusion, Averie’s heart rate increased. What in the world just happened?

As the respectful student she knew herself to be, Averie kneeled next to Mr. Surcream, feeling his wrist. She could hear him breathe, which meant that he was still alive. Averie gave a sigh of relief, and saw this as an opportunity to escape and finally go to the bathroom. Before leaving the classroom, she left a note for Mr. Surcream and closed the door on her way out.

There were still a few students lurking in the hall but the Grad Hall was empty, of course. The first rule of East High: only grads were allowed to walk through the Grad Hall.

Averie continued her stroll down to the washroom. Ig-

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noring what had happened to Mr. Surcream, she pulled down her Stella McCartney long sleeve in front of the mirror and looked at her back.

“What the heck? What is this?” Averie asked.

“Your tattoo of Solaria,” a voice replied.

Caught off guard, Averie let go of her sleeve and turned around. The voice came from a person who was extremely tall, with brown hair and slightly tanned skin. Despite how gorgeous the stranger was, Averie was startled.

“Who the heck are you? Why are you here? This is the girls’ bathroom. Get out!” Averie screamed.

“Please calm down. I am not a student. My name is Alistair,” Alistair replied.

“Alistair? How are you not a student? You look like you’re my age,” Averie questioned him.

“Averie, I saved you from that disgusting four-eyed creep of yours.”

“Mr. Surcream? He’s not mine. Wait, and how do you know my name?”

“You need to come with me, as I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“You bet you do! But why should I come with you? Why

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should I even trust you? You seem like a creeper, especially since you know my name.”

“I have that tattoo as well and with your name on it.”

Alistair pulled down his sleeve and showed Averie the imprinted sun and her name written in cursive within the sun.

“That is really creepy: your tattoo and pulling down your shirt. Awkward.”

“Please let me explain myself to gain your trust.”

“How can I know that you’re not a stalker and just got that tattoo with my name on it? You didn’t even tell me how you know my name!”

Averie took a step back, grabbed her books and pressed them against her chest.

YOU ARE A DESCENDANT FROM THE SOLARIAN BLOODLINE, A SUPERNATURAL BEING “I can answer all of your questions, if you let me. I can tell you how you got that tattoo during your calculus class.

How did I know that? You will find out very soon. And you shouldn’t call it math, by the way. You are far more intelligent than what people give you credit for.”

“Don’t try anything funny. I have a black belt in karate.

Let’s go to the coffee shop two blocks down from here,” Averie agreed. “But wait, you can’t leave the school from this room.

It’s the girls’ washroom.”

“Not to worry, I will meet you outside.”

Averie opened the washroom door cautiously and scanned the hall. All the students had left the school already, and she made her way out to the exit of the school. It was completely silent; the only sound was the sound of her black wedged boots.

“Alistair? Where are you?” she asked.

“Right here. Shall we?” Alistair placed his hand out to offer Averie his help down the stairs.

“No thanks. I can walk down these stairs.” Averie was reluctant to accept his hand. “How did you manage to get out of the washroom without using the door?”

“I will explain that later, my dear.”

Averie kept an arm’s length distance from Alistair as they walked. They finally reached the coffee shop and Alistair explained the reasoning behind the tattoo, the history and her mission: “I am the keeper of Solarians. Solarians are guardians of the Sun and possess super-human abilities to protect it. Every Solarian has a unique ability—and some may possess more than one—and a keeper to guide him or her through his or her task. Keepers are immortal and have other special abili-

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ties too. I have the power to phase through things—intangibility, one may call it. A guardian is chosen when Solari, Helia of the Sun, imprint the guardian’s name on my back. Solari also imprint a tattoo of the sun on the guardian’s back, for me to locate the chosen one.”

“So this is how I got the tattoo. Why did I even get chosen? I’m not fit to do this stuff.”

“This tattoo has existed for more than a decade. You are a descendant from the Solarian bloodline, a supernatural being, meaning you are not the first guardian.”

“Whoa, so you’re like more than a hundred years old?

Damn, you’re old. But you keep well!” Averie joked.

Alistair smiled slightly. “Thank you. You have a sense of humour. I like that.”

“Well, it’s my best trait.”

“Continuing on, a guardian has the task of killing all Cresentins, supernatural beings from the Moon.”

“That’s pretty cool. I was just thinking earlier in math how my life was so boring.”

“Sure, it’s cool. Until it gets real. Then, it becomes scary.

This is not fun and games; it is a matter of life and death. You are putting your life on the line to protect the Sun from Cresentins.”

“Why so serious?” Averie joked again.

“As much as I like your humour, you need to stop joking around, Averie.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Continue your story please?”

“Well, Cresentins only possess the power to regenerate and can only be killed if they are turned into ash. You, as a guardian, must determine how to do that.”

“How do I do that?”

“When we begin your training, you will figure it out and discover your guardian abilities. As a matter of fact, why don’t we start your training now?”

“All right, let’s do it! I know of a secluded place too. It’s a forest, kind of, just off of a SkyTrain route,” Averie replied.

I

t was a Friday, and since Averie did not have any plans with her friends or her family, she was able to train all night long.

She tied her long brown hair into a braid, curled it into a bun and secured it onto her head. She removed her auburn wool sweater, and she was wearing tights, which enabled her to move freely. Having a black belt in karate, Averie did not need to practice any combat fighting, so Averie and Alistair used the time to do basic exercises to activate her abilities as a guardian instead.

“Have you always been a keeper?”

“Yes.” “How many guardians were there before me?” Averie asked.

“Too many to keep track.”

“Why am I chosen now? Did the previous guardians not

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complete their mission?” Curiosity was killing Averie inside.

“A guardian is chosen every twenty years because that is how long it takes for a Cresentins’ ashes to return to the Moon and have its life restored,” Alistair explained. “Solarians are given twenty-seven days to destroy all Cresentins because that is how long it takes for the Moon to orbit the Earth. If the Moon completes its orbit around the Earth, Cresentins are immortal and incapable of dying. Cresentins’ goal is to create eternal darkness and destroy all life on Earth to make the Moon the strongest celestial body.”

“So, what happens if the guardian doesn’t destroy all Cresentins before time expires?”

“They will die. Earth may die with them if Cresentins destroy the Sun.” “Oh my gosh.” Averie felt a sudden shock. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Do not be afraid. If a Solarian completes his or her task before the deadline, he or she will be granted immortality by Solaria. The war can finally end and Cresenta must admit defeat to Solaria. The past guardians have failed to complete their task before the deadline, however Earth is lucky that Cresenta did not have enough Cresentins to take over Earth and had to wait another twenty years.”

“Why do they die? Just because they didn’t complete the task before the deadline?”

“They die because Solarians are made to protect the Sun. Their sole purpose in life is to keep it burning. If they aren’t able to do that, what else are they to live for?”

“To have regular lives.”

“Averie, I’m sorry. But it doesn’t work that way here,” he apologized. “This is why you need to achieve immortality.

Then you can find another reason to live.”

Alistair’s response gave Averie hope, hope to find another reason to live. It gave her hope to try, to try to succeed for Solaria, for Alistair and for herself.

“Now let’s continue. Inhale. Exhale.”

A

s they continued training, Alistair thought of Leila, an exguardian from two hundred years ago. Averie reminded Alistair of Leila. They both had long hair and a slim but athletic built. Their faces were similar: they both had a gentle look with piercing, hazel-green eyes. The most distinct difference was that Leila had a birthmark on her left earlobe.

Averie felt a strange feeling in her head. It was as if she heard someone’s thoughts inside herself. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination until these voices continued to flow through her mind. The thoughts of a person named Leila and her skills as a guardian kept flowing through her head. She thought, Leila? Who is she? I’ve never even met a girl named Leila. What’s going on with me? Should I ask Alistair?

Alistair noticed some tension between Averie’s mind

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and her heartbeat. They were not flowing together. She was not breathing in rhythm.

“Averie, is there something wrong?” Alistair asked.

“No. But, I keep hearing thoughts in my head. Thoughts that aren’t mine,” said Averie.

“What thoughts?”

“Leila. Who is Leila?”

At that instant, when Averie mentioned Leila’s name, Alistair knew that Averie was telepathic.

Should I tell her? he thought.

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, right, you are able to hear my thoughts. Averie, you are hearing my thoughts. You are telepathic. You are able to communicate with people through thoughts, feelings, desires or anything around that area.”

“Can you tell me who Leila is?”

“Leila was a guardian, just like you, from two hundred years ago. She did not complete her mission before the deadline.”

“So she died. Why… were you thinking of her?” Averie was hesitant to ask.

“She would have completed her mission. She was the strongest guardian to have ever been chosen. You are correct; she died. She died because I let her die. I was unable to protect her. I thought that finally she would be the one to end the war between Solaria and Cresenta because she was facing her final Cresentin. However, that Cresentin was not truly the final Cresentin. There was another Cresentin, in hiding. I was unaware of the second Cresentin. The second Cresentin launched and stabbed his spiked tentacle into Leila’s heart and killed her.”

“I’m so sorry, Alistair.”

“Her last words were, ‘I’m sorry. I love you Alistair,’ before she turned to dust and faded away. We fell in love, and we both thought that she would achieve immortality so we could be together forever. You just remind me of her.”

“Hey, um… Is it possible for a Solarian to become a Cresentin?” Averie asked.

“Solarians must stay loyal to their blood,” Alistair replied sternly.

“Alistair, you didn’t answer my question… Is it possible?”

Alistair tried to avoid giving Averie a straight answer.

He glanced at the ground, thinking of an answer that Averie would settle for.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s possible. However, it is an extremely rare occurrence because a Solarian must sell their soul to Cresenta.”

Averie gasped in fear. She was shocked to learn that Solarians could possibly choose to betray their own blood. She knew she would never betray Solaria. She would never betray Alistair.

“Can we continue training, if that’s okay with you.” Averie

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wanted to get away from that topic; it was too heart breaking.

“Of course we can. Your time starts when you tell me you are ready.”

O

ver the course of three months, Averie had to lie to her parents, telling them that she was doing extracurricular activities. She trained continuously and gave up her love for gymnastics to become the best guardian. She wanted to surpass Leila. Averie developed two abilities: telepathy and telekinesis. She was also trained to use various weapons, but her favourite was the katana. This katana was different; it had an indent in the blade. This indent was made by Alistair, letting Averie cut her thumb on the blade to allow her blood to flow onto the blade and along the indent. Averie figured out a way to turn Cresentins to ash: it was to use her blood in battle so that when she sliced them in half, they would turn to ash when touched by her blood. With Averie’s gymnastic skills, she was extremely flexible, and she was able to use her surroundings as an obstacle course as well as an aid in battle. Her karate skills also aided her in hand-to-hand combat. She defeated Alistair countless times as her test to determine if she was ready.

“Alistair. I, Averie Avalon, am ready,” Averie declared.

I

t was Averie’s first battle against three Cresentins. She turned them to ash without hesitation. Alistair taught her how to have a tough skin. As her battles continued, she became a ruthless killer but a gentle human. She knew she had to kill without hesitation, otherwise she might be killed herself.

Alistair grew fond of Averie, and he began to develop feelings for her. He swore not to become emotionally involved with guardians ever since he lost Leila. However, he couldn’t control his love for her. He felt as if they were meant to be together; maybe it was because she resembled Leila. Even though two hundred years had passed, his love for Leila still existed. Despite of his strong feelings for Leila, his feelings for Averie were stronger. He even adapted to Averie’s modern lifestyle, acting as if he were born in her generation.

Averie, as well, started to develop feelings for Alistair. She tried not to read his thoughts about her, to keep her feelings a

secret. She did not want to fall in love with Alistair. She needed to keep her mind focused on her task and not let any distractions interfere with her mission, because she wanted to achieve immortality. It was the only option she had after being chosen

by Solaria. That was her motivation, to survive. She did not want Alistair to feel the pain that he did when he lost Leila.

The sun shone bright and early that morning. Averie was training with Alistair when her phone rang.

“Dear, it’s lunch time. Would you like to join me at the café on Muld Street?” Averie’s mother asked.

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll be there in twenty minutes!”

“See you then, dear. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.” “So we’ll continue training after?” Averie asked Alistair.

“Averie, you’ve been training really hard. You should take a break. I’m really proud of you.” Alistair praised her.

“Okay. Thanks, Ali.” Averie thought it was a little suspicious that Alistair wanted her to take a break, so she tapped into his head.

Should I ask her to a movie? Alistair thought. No. I shouldn’t.

“I don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day, though,” said Averie, trying to create the opportunity for Alistair to ask her out to the movie.

“Would you like to watch a film with me?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll see you after I have lunch with my mom?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Alistair walked Averie to the café on Muld Street. Alistair had never met Averie’s mother before. Keepers are told to refrain from contact with their guardians’ families. Alistair laid his eyes on Averie’s mother for the first time. She was beautiful. He could see where Averie got her beauty from. Averie’s mother looked like someone he had seen before, someone he had known.

“Okay, thanks for walking me, Alistair. I’ll see you later!” said Averie with appreciation.

“Wait, what’s your mother’s name?” Alistair asked.

“Aliel. My grandma named her that because she loved

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biology. You know, because it sounds like allele. It means any form of a gene, usually arising through mutation, and they’re responsible for hereditary variation. Kind of weird to be named that, huh?”

Alistair decided to enter the café to order a latté for the walk home. He noticed that Aliel had ordered food for Averie and herself already so it was ready for Averie when she arrived. Aliel also had long brown hair just like Averie, so she had to tie it up. Alistair noticed that her ears were pierced with earrings that resembled the moon. He also noticed that on her left earlobe, there was a blotch that was covered by the earring.

AVERIE CLENCHED HER HAND INTO A FIST. HER HAIR WAS BLOWING EVERYWHERE; THE SHATTERING OF GLASSES CAUSED UPROAR IN THE RESTAURANT. “How are you, Averie? Is it cold outside?” Aliel asked.

“I’m good, Mom. How are you?” Averie replied, smiling.

“Give me your hand. I want to feel if you are cold.”

Averie took off her mitten and held her mother’s hand.

“Lunam et stellas in potestatem invoco, I call upon the powers of the Moon and the Stars,” Aliel chanted quietly. “Regere Solis filia, servus et eam Cresentin, to rule my daughter of the Sun and make her the servant of Cresentin.”

Averie felt a strange trance. She could not move her body.

But she could understand what was going on. Aliel continued to chant, and something came over Averie. Prickles went down Averie’s back until they reached her tattoo. Averie couldn’t see it, but it changed from the sun to the crescent of the moon.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why do I feel weird?” Averie asked.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve held your hands too tight and stopped your blood flow.”

“It’s okay. It was weird though, ’cause I felt a tingly feeling on my back.”

“Sorry, dear, it was probably just the hairs on the back of your neck.”

A

fter the movie, Alistair treated Averie to dinner, as if they were on a date. Alistair was old fashioned, which made sense because he was more than two hundred years old. Averie wanted to tell Alistair so desperately how much she loved him.

She did not want to know how he felt by reading his thoughts.

She wanted to hear it from him.

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“Alistair, I need to tell you something,” Averie said.

“What is it?” asked Alistair.

“Oh, look, it’s my mom. Why is she here? I’ll be right back, okay?”

“I’ll be here. I don’t have any other plans,” chuckled Alistair.

“Hey, Mom! What are you doing here?” Averie wondered.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here too. I was just in the mood for a fancy dinner. You know me and fancy dinners.

Who is your friend, over there?” Aliel replied.

“Oh, his name is Alistair. He just moved here and I’m showing him around.”

“Alistair, hey? Doesn’t that name mean ‘protector of mankind’? Where is he from?”

“I don’t know. Up north. It looks like you’re having a great meal; I better get back to mine! I’ll see you at home. I don’t know what time I’ll be back. Don’t wait up for me!”

Averie pecked her mother with a kiss on her cheek. She walked back to Alistair with a huge smile. She was finally able to share her feelings with him.

“Hey, so… back to what I needed to tell you.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Praecipio tibi tollere solem. I order you to destroy the sun,” Aliel commanded.

“This,” Averie said.

Averie opened her palm and a small figure appeared. It was bright, extremely bright. It looked as if she had a fireball on the palm of her hand. The sphere lit up the whole restaurant, shining brighter than all of the candles combined.

Alistair realized that it was the sun. “Averie, what are you doing?”

“What I am destined to do.”

Averie clenched her hand into a fist. Her hair was blowing everywhere; the shattering of glasses caused uproar in the restaurant. The floor was shaking like an earthquake. The tables slid back and forth. As this was happening, darkness began to fill the places on Earth that were receiving light. It was like a blanket of black paint engulfing the whole world.

Averie crushed the sun in her fist and chanted, “Luna. Luna.

Ave lunae oportet. Moon. Moon. Hail to the moon.”

“Averie! What have you done?” Alistair demanded.

He tried to stop her by prying open her fist, however she was too strong. Her clenching fist would not budge.

“What I am destined to do,” she said.

C

resenta observed this from the Moon and thanked all his Cresentins, especially his favourite one.

“Well done, Aliel, well done. Or should I say, Leila?” praised Cresenta. B

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Short S H O RT S TO R I E S

JUSTICE

By Alix Burkhart I don’t mean society’s view on the topic. I mean the textbook definition of justice. The concept of perfect order between all forces, one side is tipped and the other must retaliate. But think about when the scale is retipped. Is it ever just balanced? Or do they take more than they need and end up keeping the balance of power lost? This returns with retaliation from the other side. I call it the cycle of justice. Society needs this cycle to feel safe, but it’s the cycle that endangers us all. Neither side ever takes the appropriate retaliation. With a world filled with repetitive and violent imbalances, what would it take to completely set the balance? To set the world straight would take a miracle. Unfortunately, miracles do not happen. That is why I do the things I do. Taking the devil’s side is the only way for me to set the balance, and it has to be me because miracles do not happen. Once it happens, you will see it, but you won’t see it coming, even once it happens. My work is necessary to the ultimate survival of humanity. Some would call me a miracle worker if they knew what I truly do. But miracles cannot happen. Well, I suppose I should ask you: What is your opinion on miracles? B WHAT IS YOUR OPINION ON JUSTICE?

DUALITY

By Alix Burkhart HISTORY ALWAYS WAS a

thing of duality.

One man’s guardian angel is another man’s destroying demon, as they say.

Then why exactly is it that I, a man almost pure of heart, am treated with such scorn? I simply wish to show you a better world, one free from oppression. And those with power wouldn’t even conceive of the notion of abusing it. Some say it’s impossible; some say I am insane. I don’t see it that way. My methods may not seem just, but I swear that in the end you will see. My means are pure. You will all see. The real question is do my means outweigh my methods?

I am not a hero. The things I have done will haunt me until the day that I die, but to turn back now would be a disgrace to those who have fallen.

Then who would be the real demon?

B

Inspired by John Green’s phrase “French the Llama” by Emma Renaerts

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THE FALLEN RACE: PART ONE

By Wayne Lam

I

remember being here. I remember being born. In fact, I remember a time before that, long before that. I remember the melody of the universe and all its creations of glory.

I remember my mission; I remember what was after, and I remember now.

As I stood my ground against the darkened sky, constantly shining, I saw my companions falling down, one after another. Thin rays of light were materializing out of the sky, piercing through whatever they came in contact with. Gigantic aircraft that looked like round bodies with veins protruding out of them hovered overhead.

The city that was once the most magnificent in all of Nereha was utterly enveloped in flames.

This all seemed surreal.

We, who yielded dominance.

We, who seized quanta and quanta of land.

We, who had outshone the hundreds of different entities.

And yet our reign had begun to fall.

There was once a theory about the universe and the world.

There existed parallel universes, universes similar to our own, with events occurring differently in each one, divaricating off into another universe from each and every situation. All things that could have possibly happened in our past, all possible things that could happen in the future, all occur in one of these universes. At the moment of the big bang in our universe, approximately 13.7 billion years ago, there was another extraordinary event in one of the other parallel universes. A tremulous golden light shimmered across this particular universe, and stayed for approximately fourteen Earth days. This light miraculously created a universe that was unique and separate, where no parallel universe could follow. The events that followed thereafter seemed to occur similarly to the events of our universe, with the exception of planets being formed in different locations as opposed to ours.

Then, just 4.3 billion years back, the golden light that had shimmered in that universe returned, and planets began form-

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ing at an incredible rate; approximately two planets per Earth day. Each planet possessed ten golden eggs within the interior core of its body. The eggs seemed impervious to magma. In fact, magma avoided the eggs, and had instead given them a spacious opening to the exterior parts of the planet.

EACH PLANET POSSESSED TEN GOLDEN EGGS WITHIN THE INTERIOR CORE OF ITS BODY Being attached to the very roots of the planets, the eggs were all clouded with the same miraculous light, and symbols in the shape of a bird’s wing were engraved onto them. The golden eggs possessed an aura of magnificence, individuality and uncertainty.

The shimmering light that clouded the universe stayed for about fifty-five Earth days, causing one hundred and ten planets to be formed. During the next ninety days, those planets were filled with life. Plants and animals began appearing without any logical explanation. A species of plants known as the Sagaria had an extreme similarity to grass, and this filled all one hundred and ten planets. Afterwards, the golden eggs, now covered in thorns of strange colours, began to hatch. Ten human-like species emerged from the innards of the eggs.

However peculiar it may have seemed, there were definite rules for the eggs of each planet. Of the ten golden eggs, five had to be female, and five had to be male.

In the very centermost point of the universe laid a planet where its eggs did not hatch along with all the others. It took an additional five days for these eggs to hatch. What was most important, however, was not the fact that the eggs took a longer amount of time to hatch, but that what emerged out of the eggs were not normal humanoid bodies. What they resembled were demons of mythology, transcended through the many human generations. Horns protruded from their heads. Obsidian wings affixed to the upper part of their backs made it seem as if it were unnatural not to possess any. There was a definite feeling upon them, as if spellbound, a feeling of predestined pandemonium. This was the planet of Nereha. B

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The Kiss by Morgan Caruso

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POETRY Red

By babygurl2121 Red is the colour of love, lust and passion.

Lips so red you can’t not kiss them.

Rosy red cheeks, from a cold night spent well.

Red dresses, swooping and dancing their way home.

Red roses tied with gorgeous ribbons, Valentine’s cards and chocolates.

Adolescence by Maria Mulder

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Red is the colour of anger, hatred and struggles.

The blood dripping from a torn heart, the pain, the suffering.

Red eyes, the struggle for breaths between sobs.

Freshly fallen snow, tarnished with drops of her blood.

Red is the colour of rage, broken objects shattered on the floor, cut up knuckles, beat up face.

The ring, once golden and beautiful, now clatters to the floor, the blood-stained carpet below.

Her hurt body slumped on the ground, shaking with fearful sobs, her dress no longer beautiful and dancing, but dead and still.

POETRY

The True Warrior

By Damon Huang

Two warriors step within the gates of the divine stadium.

The deafening crowd starts their dynamic cheers.

For the winner: freedom and sweet, delectable glory.

For the loser: agonizing death and disgrace.

The man to the left, adorned in black ox hide, grips his sword, gazing at his enemy with malevolent, dark green eyes.

The man to the right, wearing white horse leather, clenches his weapon also, replies with a cock of his narrow brow.

The fight explodes.

To the disorderly fans, the clashing blades seem barbaric.

To the combatants, they are communicating.

To their unique ears, it is a melodious, sweet-sounding tune.

Both of them share the same thought: they will not disappoint the cheers of the blood-thirsty crowd.

The true gladiator’s call. The warrior’s drive.

A Beat

By Amanda Young Stuck in a cage as I look down at the chains in which I am enslaved by my own thoughts, as the shadow surrounds me of my own negativity, I lose my ability to create positivity, as my body falls victim to the pressure, my mind becomes corrupted and I turn into something lesser, negativity subtracting all my sanity, and I lose sight and become blind from vanity, stress on my mind, trying to be the only hope for humanity, swallowed into the darkness, running for my life but it won’t come back to me.

Then I hear a beat, something that is actually my heart telling me that love has the back of me, if God is love? Then maybe it’s here to end this catastrophe, and tell all of you this won’t be the last of me. As the darkness fades away, the shadows that tried to eat me alive have been slayed, I turn my heart into a key and open the cage, and I see everyone else and I try to help—I look back at the darkness and see myself.

The man in black soars in the air, like a hawk ready to strike with precision.

Though his attack is fierce, his counterpart is ready.

He parries his enemy with an elusive sidestep, gracefully deflecting the sword.

Then, with one sudden thrust of his daring blade, he hits true and a glistening grin emerges from his sweaty face.

The warrior lets go of the unforgiving blade, driven deep in the heart of his rival.

The crowd goes wild like apes at the zoo.

They throw beautiful flowers toward the victor.

Though glory and gracious victory is bestowed to him, the champion sheds a single, somber, salty tear.

His menacing adversary, a former companion.

The crowd grows rowdier. Their chants grow louder as they leave the stands to approach the revered victor.

The man in white retrieves the blade from his fallen opponent, bows above his fallen foe, and prays for safe passage to the afterlife.

Respect, honour and pride — the true warrior.

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POETRY

The Chase

Waiting

It was coming Fast.

It fled through the trees, Leaving nothing untouched by its masked terror, Cloaking our world.

Newborn kittens, and baby ducklings, Our monuments, statues, history, The city, our lives, Everything.

Gone.

I stood alone, and felt grief.

The pain in my chest, Excruciating.

The sky glowed like polished amethyst.

Stunning.

But my heart sunk, A rock in water.

Cold crystals formed on the surface of my arm.

I stood still, as if I were surrounded by spiders, But if only it were that easy.

I could see my breath swirl in the air.

It danced, turned in every direction.

Twirled without care, With no exact path, No restriction.

A monster fled from my mouth, A loud cry, For no one to hear.

I looked up with tired, swollen eyes.

Ripping my hands from my face, I saw It spread further.

The darkness.

As it seeped into the ground, It engulfed everything we had ever worked for.

The last bulb had finally burnt out, Leaving us Lost.

She’s waiting.

She can see it coming closer.

It has been here before, Each visit worse than the last.

By swagkat626

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By Ali Steinhubl

She can see it coming closer.

It says it’s not going to hurt her.

Yet each visit is worse than the last.

She lets out a silent cry as it takes over her body, soul, mind.

It says it won’t hurt her, Eyes dark and smile blurred.

She lets out a silent cry as it takes over her body, soul and mind.

She won’t remember when it’s over. She never does.

Eyes dark and smile blurred.

It has been here before.

She won’t remember when it’s over. She never will.

She’s waiting.

IMAGE BY

Benjamin Bonifacio

POETRY

Splintered

By Charlie Mahler My worlds collide Shatter Tell me, When did the stars reverse And the universe converse With the planets to cause this verse Written of crashing worlds And splintered realities Reality isn’t really real But neither is the way you feel You lost yourself inside your mind Left me behind You’re in so deep that I cannot find you In this mess we’ve made Of these splintered worlds You love me out of habit We’ve been together so long Yet you run like a rabbit Away from the shots fired Into a brain filled with black Hear the crack Of these splinters breaking Under your tentative footsteps As you investigate the noise And tiptoe around The blood

My privacy was stolen Like my innocence Like the grace of a snowflake Crushed and melted Into floodwater during the spring I still wear your ring Waiting for the phone to chime And you to be there As you were mine But these splinters are all that is left Of the shadow of this shattered love Our worlds passed, collided, shared and broke When we heard the news of the girl Who choked on her broken emotions Setting in motion tales Of reverent beauty Of sweet and kind, the floral decorations coated in glitter Of her memory, impression Pressed into soft flesh as we wish We had choked with her She will never tell me When the stars reversed Or when the universe conversed with the planets To bring this verse Written of crashing worlds And our remaining splintered reality.

Daydream

By Iris Grages

I wonder what it’s like to soar, Above the clouds, forevermore.

Away from people, away from strife, Away from choices, away from life.

PHOTO BY

Vanessa Xu

I wonder what it’s like to fly.

To spread your wings and say goodbye.

To leave the place you know as home.

To live forever, all alone.

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OPINIONS

Blinded From the Truth

By Jeanne D’arc Le WE GO THROUGH OUR EVERYDAY LIVES AS IF WE’RE BLIND, blind to the

fact that although we live in a country that is better off than many, it doesn’t mean that people everywhere are in the same state. Many may not know it, but there are a lot more people living in poverty than you would expect. According to Anup

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Shah, author of “Causes of Poverty,” over half the world is living on less than $2.50 a day, and that is clearly not enough for one to support a family, or even oneself. From extremely young children to elders, many of the people living in the world today struggle to survive. Although there are some people out there that do care and some people that are trying to make a change, some people still isn’t enough.

Look around you: Does everything look fine? Really, it isn’t. Shah states that more than one billion children live in poverty, and that’s almost one in two children throughout the world! I guess because we humans don’t want to see bad things,

IMAGE BY

Janet Van

OPINIONS

we purposefully build barriers so that we can only see the good. Like I said before, some people caring, and some people trying to make a difference isn’t enough. Across the world, there are still approximately 640 million people of all ages living without adequate shelter; approximately 400 million have no access to safe water and about 270 million have no access to health services.

Sounds shocking, doesn’t it? I think people need to be more aware about this very important issue. Together, we can make a difference, a change. This might sound cheesy, but it’s the truth.

We could do something about this, but we haven’t yet. It’s as if people just pretend that everyone has a good life.

It’s crazy to hear all these things, but, as Shah’s article states, less than 1% of what the world spends on weapons every year could have put almost every child into school by the year 2000, yet it didn’t happen. And why didn’t it happen? It didn’t happen because many people aren’t aware of the way some people are living; they aren’t aware of the fact that although they have everything they need—money, food, shelter, etc.—others don’t. Or maybe people do know what’s happening, and they just don’t care. Either way, things need to change. If you are able to lend a hand, it helps! In this case, even the smallest thing could make someone’s life better.

We need to open our eyes and notice what’s going on around us, good or bad. I don’t think people like to hear that approximately 2200 children and adults die each day due to poverty.

When I saw this in Shah’s article, I was shocked, but there are things you can do to make a change, like helping to build shelters, houses and schools; donating money to help provide fresh water; or getting involved with charities.

Open your eyes and be aware, but don’t only keep this information to yourself.

Open your mouth, too, and spread the word. B

A Woman in the NBA?

By Allen Diaz de Leon A woman in the NBA? What kind of crazy person could ever think of this? Well, Mark Cuban, the owner of the Dallas Mavericks, has decided to give a huge opportunity to one of the most dominant female collegiate players out there, Brittney Griner.

Brittney Griner is a center for the NCAA Division 1 Baylor University and is one of the best players in the history of the women’s NCAA. Standing at 6'8", she has superior height in the women’s game and also has a skill set that includes dunking. You might say dunking isn’t very impressive, but there have only been four women in history to dunk in a professional WNBA game.

When she found out about Mark Cuban’s offer to either draft her or allow her to play on the organization’s summer league team, she said (via Twitter), “I would hold my own! Let’s do it!”, showing some serious determination about getting in the league; however, there are a lot of things we must analyze before we start thinking about the first woman in the NBA. Brittney Griner stands at 6'8" and is a center. In the NBA a player that is 6'8" is usually a power forward or a small forward; both of these positions, though, require a very big stature that allows players to be very physical, or an ability to shoot the ball from the perimeter. Griner unfortunately does not have either of these abilities. She weighs only 208 pounds, while the average weight of a small forward in the NBA is 220 to 240 pounds.

If you put Griner alongside the finest small forwards in the league, like LeBron James, she could be at a disadvantage in terms of reaction time, speed and brute strength. This situation has sparked a lot of discussion YOU MIGHT BE ASKING YOURSELF:

around the basketball world, with some coaches telling her to take the opportunity and other coaches telling her not to try. Griner is ultimately expected to be drafted first overall in the up and coming WNBA draft.

Many coaches have said that there is no chance of her ever competing at the top male level, but they are failing to see opportunities that she could have if she played in a summer league or even just worked out with the team. Maybe Griner isn’t ready yet, but this situation does raise the serious question: Will there ever be a woman in the NBA? Only time will tell. B

Brittney Griner dunks during an NCAA women’s tournament game. Photo by the Associated Press.

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OPINIONS

Silver Linings Playbook: Hollywood’s Newest Mockery of Mental Illness

By Morgan Caruso has a patent influence on society, and with its growth and global popularity, we are able to see the damaging effects it has on society’s perceptions. Mental illness, for example, is a topic often misinterpreted in today’s film industry. When distorted and demeaning images are presented to the public about this sensitive topic, it significantly contributes to unfavourable stereotypes, stigma, discrimination, and biases against treatment and recovery.

In 1999, film director David O. Russell rightfully attracted attention from critics and audiences for his creation of an extraordinarily unconventional war film called Three Kings.

Russell was put on a well-deserved pedestal in the directing world, as he followed through with other avant-garde comedic pictures. Silver Linings Playbook, his newest romantic comedy, has also attracted positive reviews. The film THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY

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received a total of eight Oscar nominations, four of which were in each of the acting categories, with Jennifer Lawrence winning the title of Best Actress.

The predicament here, however, is that Silver Linings Playbook is not up to standard with David O. Russell’s exceptional work. His previous films, such as I Heart Huckabees, Spanking the Monkey and Oscar-nominated The Fighter, were movies that pushed boundaries, put you at the edge of your seat, and made you actually think and engage. Silver Linings Playbook, on the other hand, ties into a mainstream formula and checks off various clichés commonly seen in films. The “depressed” and “bipolar” characters in this story give the audience a false sense of edge and drama, contrary to the actual struggles of people affected by these mental health issues. Thus the film’s only achievement, in my opinion, is that of a painfully inaccurate depiction of mental illnesses.

The lead character, played by The Hangover’s Bradley Cooper, is a man with a manic disorder, recently released from a psychiatric hospital. His character has aggressive tendencies and often “snaps” in tumultuous situations, and even this small feature silently and subtly adds to the stereotype of people with mental illness as being dangerous and unstable. Cooper’s character, Pat, soon connects with Tiffany, played by Hunger Games star Jennifer Lawrence, who struggles with severe depression as a result of her husband’s death. The emotions that come with grief and depression are used to add interest to her character; she is head-to-toe mysterious, exotic and sexy because, as a result of her depression, she doesn’t think and act by society’s norms. In addition, Robert De Niro, who plays Pat’s father, is portrayed as having symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder, including strong superstitions and pathological gambling. The characters in the film are dysfunctional, socially impaired beings, and the plot coats this dysfunction in glamour and romance—complete with dancing.

There is a lack of emphasis in this film on the lifelong struggles of those with mental health issues; the movie presents the damaging idea that those trapped with mental illness can be “fixed” by those around them, thus leading people to a false understanding of how mental illness should be looked upon in society. Love does not conquer all, and mental health issues are no laughing matter. Passion Pit singer Michael Angelakos expressed his thoughts via Twitter, writing; “Cheap use of mental health as legs for plot.

To be perfectly clear: did not like Silver Linings Playbook much at all.” He spoke out about his own struggle with bipolar disorder, and chastised the film for its insulting and inaccurate demonstration of mental illness.

Ironically, Silver Linings Playbook is marketed as a feel-good romantic

OPINIONS

comedy. The nature of the plot suggests that mental instability leads to triumph over adversity, and in finding love and winning a dance competition, there are happy endings for all. As singer Angelakos continued to post on Twitter, “It’s very much in right now -- in Hollywood, mind you -- to use mental illness as a way to bring added drama or almost entirely all drama to a piece.”

Near the end of the film, Cooper’s character admits to have “only pretended” to take the prescribed medication for his illness, and combined with the big kiss between the two main characters, this reveal suggests that all you need is love to heal mental illness, not individual motivation or the help of medicine.

Richard Brody writes in The New Yorker that “the story challenges the medical establishment and the efficacy in medical science in bringing about results… the movie will be a hit with those who think that hyperactivity is just a failure of discipline, and depression merely a bad attitude.” When a film has received as much acknowledgement and praise as this one, it has an atomic impact on the attitude of society. The film falsely reinforces that mental illness is a choice, and that it can be treated as easily as the common cold. Undermining medicine could have real life consequences, including influencing the decisions of real people who may need treatment for their own illnesses.

The bias against medicine that is shown through the film increases the stigma and discouragement faced by people who are brave enough to seek what they need to pull through a mental

issue or disorder, because essentially the film is telling them to “just get over it.” As Brody also states, “[Pat’s] mental health depends on his ability to control his behavior through force of will,” thus the film emphasizes that mental illness is something that can be easily fixed and controlled, when in fact most disorders cause everyday hardship and may never be controlled or cured.

Originally a book written by Matthew Quick, Silver Linings Playbook’s screen adaptation is a major box-office success, and it is undeniable that the main actors, Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, and especially the supporting actors, Jackie Weaver and Robert De Niro, were magnificent in their roles.

COOPER’S CHARACTER HAS AGGRESSIVE TENDENCIES AND OFTEN “SNAPS” IN TUMULTUOUS SITUATIONS, AND EVEN THIS SMALL FEATURE SILENTLY AND SUBTLY ADDS TO THE STEREOTYPE OF PEOPLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS AS BEING DANGEROUS AND UNSTABLE.

David O. Russell’s work also deserves credit; the film was well made and his creativity definitely shows. Nevertheless the concepts the film puts forth so fiercely are questionable: they send false messages to society and to those people dealing with mental health issues.

The entertainment industry has a major influence on society today, so when a complex and emotional subject is treated superficially in a Hollywood film, it allows for the spread of stereotypes, biases and discouragement toward the people who are suffering from mental illness and who may want to seek medical treatment. The film also confirms Hollywood rom-com clichés by concluding with a happy ending, without recognition of the serious lifelong struggles of mental illness. There will always be inaccuracies in what the media presents, however it still affects public perception, and it is therefore important to acknowledge that the goal of films is to entertain, not teach, and despite the implications of Silver Linings Playbook, mental illness is no more sensational than physical sickness. B

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HOROSCOPES

HOROSCOPES

By Damon Huang and Joel Rossi

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20–Feb. 18)

GEMINI (May 21–June 21)

LIBRA (Sept. 23–Oct. 22)

Aquarii are very clever and witty. This will get you in a tough position. You must try your best not to rebel or it will come with heavy consequences.

Geminis are very clever yet very indecisive. In a few days you will be presented with a couple of choices that will make a big difference in the future. Don’t delay; choose the answer that speaks to you from inside. It will be the right answer, so don’t sweat it.

Libras are peaceful but at times come across as vain. You will be put in a position to work with others and will find a good fit for yourself.

PISCES (Feb. 19–March 20)

SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21)

Pisces are adaptable and compassionate.

You will become ill in the near future.

Get prepared to change your routine.

Start living a healthier lifestyle and get more rest.

Scorpios are filled with passion and are very dynamic. Circumstances will change greatly but you will be able to adapt to the situation and succeed.

CANCER (June 22–July 22)

Cancers are very loyal individuals that make for good friends. When someone tries to convince you to betray a friend, stay true to yourself and don’t listen to those wanting to ruin friendships.

ARIES (March 21–April 19)

Aries are known for their short temper.

Soon you will face many people giving you a hard time. Don’t let them get to you. You are above them.

TAURUS (April 20– May 20)

Tauruses are generally known to be sensitive yet stubborn. In the near future people will give you advice you may at first think negatively about. However, embrace their advice, as these people will benefit you in the long run.

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LEO (July 23–Aug. 22)

Leos are very prideful and ambitious individuals. Very soon you will be provided a big challenge to overcome. Don’t give up, no matter how difficult it is.

After you complete your endeavour, you will be rewarded greatly.

VIRGO (Aug. 23–Sept. 22)

Virgos are very observant and analytical individuals. A friend of yours will be down and out. It will go unnoticed by most, so it’s your job to keep your eyes peeled and be ready to aid a friend in times of trouble.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 23–Dec. 21)

Sagittarii are independent. In your life you’ll be rewarded for staying strong, and you will find great value in having the freedom that comes with independence.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22–Jan. 19)

Capricorns are very resourceful and loyal. This week you will face adversity, but you will find a way to get through it with patience and responsibility.

HOROSCOPES

B

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