Unvarnished Words
Fall 2015 1
Unvarnished Words is an annual publication created by York College’s chapter of Sigma Tau Delta, International English Honor Society. Sigma Tau Delta Officers 2014-2015: President: Quentin Becker Vice-President: Tyler Helms Secretary: Amanda Diedrich Treasurer: Sarah Mertens P.R. Representative: Ashlee Ivey Sponsors: Beverly D. McNeese: Assistant Professor of English Jennifer R. Dutch: Chair of the English Department Compilation: Amanda Diedrich and Morgan De Boer Cover Picture: Dusk on Kiplinger Avenue by Jessica Lewis Vol. 12 Š 2015 2
Unvarnished Words Table of Contents Prose, Poetry, and Photographs Dusk on Kiplinger Avenue-------------------------------- Cover Forever Thankful………………………………. 5 Nothing to See Here………………………………. 5 Forever a Fight ………………………………… 6 Doppelganger……………………………………... 7 You…………………………………………….. 8 A Letter to my Heart…………...………………. 11 (Untitled Submission)…………………………... 12 Chemistry: A Love Poem?......................................... 13 (Untitled Submission)…………………………... 14 Two Worlds Collide……………………………. 15 (Untitled Submission)…………………………... 24 Leopard Gecko…………………………………… 24 The Sprint……………………………………… 25 I Was Raised by Wrestling……………………… 29 (Untitled Submission)………………………….. 30 Mother: A Fairytale for Children……………….. 31 Catharsis………………………………………… 35 Atop the Lobby………………………………… 36 Where Sun and Silhouette Meet…………………….. 36 Only Me………………………………………... 37 (Untitled Submission)………………………….. 38 The Wind………………………………………. 39 Jacob…………………………………………… 42 Chemistry Love Poem #9………………………. 44 Tiny Warrior……………………………………… 44 The Day Leonard Blush Died…………………… 45 The Lonely Brick Road…………………………….. 50 Misfire…………………………………………... 51 A Study in Violet…………………………………. 53 Even the Sun Shall Rise…………………………. 53 (Untitled Submission)…………………………… 55 3
For Dad………………………………………….. College Poem…………………………………… Does That All Matter?................................................ One of These Things is Not Like the Other…………... Alaska…………………………………………... Contributors…………………………………….. Index……………………………………………. Alumni Submission…………………………….... Acknowledgement……………………………….
4
56 57 62 63 64 65 67 69 70
Forever Thankful by Ashlee Ivey My love for you is a steady stream of water, Slowly Trickling Through The cracked foundation of what society has always taught me. Each day passes and the Stream Carries more of that Crumbling Wall, And regardless of when the river is meant to dry up I will always, Always be thankful.
Nothing to See Here by Sami Berry 5
Forever A Fight by Ariel Warrior A gift you’ve graced upon thyself A wonderful curse of life indeed Finding bliss in hopeless memories Yet, Once before- here and there The urgency to breath becomes less and less A victim of pain Never-the-less too weak to contain You Fight the battle with whole-heartedness. Tears may dry upon thy face, Yet, do not feel disgraced Be proud and embrace this pain Like scars on a wounded warriors’ body Decorated with memories; full of love and inferiority. These battles show no mercy to the broken soul. whether a champion to the throne or a lost cause In the end one will never know until you find control It could be very much A saving grace to those misguided hearts Redirect the sword you bear toward the true enemy. An enemy who seeks to destroy its prey From within the soul- until the physical host Weakens day by day. It’s obvious to see, illuminated by your bold spirit The inner strength- intricately woven by strings of fate. Guarded by hurtful memories- you show no blame Encouraging to those dangerous eyes Blackened to the core, lusting after misery You seem like a wonderful prize. It’s no wonder they desire to control this life To firmly grasp a precious heart in hand 6
There is no greater reward, Than to watch you struggling to last. Yet, you always find a way. Keeping your faith, Never surrendering your poker face. Although, the gift of life and death Subtly grazes past your thoughts… It’s the truth one must not deny Your honor is in your faith; serenity will find it’s place One day- all will take heed in what is said, Graciously bestow this gift within themselves. Instilling that forever, until the day I hope and pray You will remember the warrior who fought his way.
Doppelganger by Sami Berry 7
You
__ by Natalie Ostrander
I haven’t heard you: You won’t talk to me. Why won’t you tell me? You won’t look at me. I’m worried that you will. I’m worried that you’ll stay. You don’t know who I am. I don’t know who you are. I’ve spent so long living for you. I’ve wrapped my life around you. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t exist. You’ve ruined me, And you don’t even know. You don’t even care. Why are you still here? Why am I still here? 8
We are both lost. Will you stop? Will you save me? I know you won’t. You don’t know I’m here. You only care about you. And I’m beyond repair.
So I will wither away, While you pretend I’m not here. “I will go down with this ship.” And you won’t stay. I won’t bring myself back up. I don’t have strength to try. You’ve taken all I have. And left me all alone. You’ve sapped me of myself; I don’t have tears to cry. I will sit until I’m gone. 9
And you will walk away. So go away. Save yourself; I won’t stop you. I’ll say good-bye. And then never Say a word again.
10
A letter to my heart
________ by David Goodwin
Heart, my dear brother, why must we be destined to lie in this state? We hold fast to our differing natures Wouldn’t it be wonderful to concur for once? Heart, I shackle myself to you, Can you not see that I’m protecting the both of us? Have you forgotten what happened last time? To this day we bear the scars. I see there is no reasoning with you. Oh how stubborn you are. My fear is an anchor upon the rocks, But you’re strong enough to pull it. Fine, we’ll go and meet her then. This angel that we long after. I’m terrified of what she could do to us. Regardless, your passion is a fire I cannot control. Thus I pray, I pray brother that we succeed. She stands before us Heart, yet she’s as far as the heavens. I long for her as well as you do my brother. Your bravery being our dissonance. All I ask now is that you don’t lead me astray.
11
(Untitled Drawing) by Natalie Ostrander
12
Chemistry: A Love Poem?
__ by Cheryl Ratliff
I am not the Alchemist I thought I was unbreakable mistakable valence He was the oxygen to my carbon: we were one big happy molecule but little did I know he thought our orbit was nothing but a rut and one free radical broke the bonds I mistook for stable solid strong Carbon Monoxide is poison, after all and when our atoms split the nuclear fallout left me only ashes — out of air — my outer shell full of holes God, please calm this electrostatic storm make me Helium make me noble and complete let me drift into the ether through solar winds of Aurora stop me needing this covalent covenant 13
this fragile Fable Soulmates, like Santa Claus are scientific impossibilities something to be laid aside with the rest of my childhood fantasies Fire needs Oxygen like my heart needs a nucleus But why must it burn?
(Untitled Photo) by Natalie Ostrander 14
Two Worlds Collide
________ by Amanda Diedrich
The movers were going to be at the house tomorrow at five. Mags figured her boyfriend Doug, or soon to be ex-boyfriend, would try and send them away just like he had last time she sent the movers to the house they had shared together. But she had warned him that if the movers left empty-handed again, she would send her father over there to get her stuff. And that would be much more unpleasant. Mags had considered canceling the movers herself and having her father show up just to show Doug that she meant what she said. Doug had called her a brat. He accused her of living a life where getting up and leaving with no excuse or explanation was okay. But he reminded her that in the real world, that just was not okay. He told her it was considered a meltdown. He kept saying that he knew she would come back to him. He told her that in a month, he would be moving all her crap back into their house. He made it very clear to Mags that that was not what he wanted to do. He offered her the guest bedroom if she really felt she needed space from him. Doug had thought he was actually being chivalrous. Doug had this personality that pulled others into his world. But once someone was in, they realized that his world revolved all about him. Mags laughed at all their pathetic memories. All the times she caught him cheating. All the times she came home to luxurious gifts after she had caught him cheating. All the unanswered phone calls and late nights of not knowing where he was or whom he was with. How he was never able to make it Mags’ family get-togethers. It was one thing after another with Doug. Mags told Doug to just give it a rest. She wanted her stuff and she wanted it tomorrow without any more trouble from him. His argument had become hilariously pitiful, so she finally hung up on him. She giggled a little to herself. She loved that he was getting a taste of his own medicine. Mags was beginning to feel better about their break-up. 15
She just hoped that she would continue to feel good about it. She knew the road ahead of her was going to be long and bumpy. After Mags hung up on Doug, she laid down on her empty apartment floor. Her cable was not hooked up yet so she was stuck watching Friends, as it was the only show she had on DVD. Friends had been her and her mother’s favorite show for as long as she could remember. She picked a random disk and stuck it in her laptop. It was the episode where Rachel took a pregnancy test at Monica and Chandler’s wedding reception. For some reason, most likely hormonal, tears found their way down Mag’s face during the episode. She could not help but think about her first pregnancy test experience. She was alone. Doug was with the guys finishing up a weekend fishing trip. Mags had the dishes done, the laundry hung-up, and had set out to cross a couple of other things off her to-do list before he got back home. Her top priority was to stop at Dollar General and stock up on candy for the trick-or-treaters who would be knocking on their door tomorrow night. As she walked up to the door, she was caught off guard by the scream that was coming from inside. She quickly opened the door to find a young girl lying on the floor, her pregnant belly sticking out between her knees. The painful look on her face reminded Mags to never get pregnant. As the ambulance pulled up, she watched two EMTs lean down and whisper in the young woman’s ear. She seemed so young and scared. The two men reassured her and soon she was up on her feet and walking out the door. But before she was out of Mags’ sight, she saw her grab one of the men’s hands and shove it against her protruding belly. “Feel him? Can you feel him moving?” the young woman said. It’s like those words awakened something inside of Mags. Suddenly, she was feeling nauseous and light-headed. As she quickly walked down the medicine aisle to grab a pack of Tums, she passed the tampon section. And she stopped right there, as the realization that she was an entire week late hit her harder than she could have ever imagined. She sprinted to the checkout, demanded a pregnancy test, sprinted back to the bathroom, and waited those excruciating three minutes. 16
Mags had spent more time that day contemplating leaving Doug than she ever had before. Doug loved his social life. He loved going out, drinking, having drunk sex, passing out, and not waking up until 2 in the afternoon the following day. That was Doug. At first, it was all so fun. Mags’ previous boyfriend Kevin never wanted to go out. She spent a very boring three years with him. So Doug was such a breath of fresh air! There was always something going on and new people to meet. Doug took Mags so far out of her comfort zone that sometimes she never even recognized her old self. But like all good things, they must come to an end. She slowly started getting tired of it all. It wasn’t the lifestyle itself, but more who Doug was in that lifestyle. He was mean. He was sarcastic and mean. And this was all the time. Not just when they were alone, but all the time. It was usually after Mags spoke up and asked Doug to treat her better that she would contemplate leaving him. Doug had been so mad after Mags brought up his not-so-nice ways. He had sarcastically spit out that he put a roof over her head and food in their fridge. That he paid the bills. He asked Mags why that was not enough for her. Mags had been so hurt with this slap in her face. But Doug was on a roll now, and his comments only got worse. He asked if she wanted him to start hitting her so that she really had something to complain about. He yelled that he would do it, all she had to do was push him a little bit further. Mags couldn’t take it anymore and she ran to their bedroom to wait out the rest of his outburst. Mags knew Doug was not fond of the idea of kids. Everyone who knew Doug knew that. Doug loved kids – but only kids that he could send back home when he was tired of them. He loved his two nieces, he loved his buddy’s little boy, and he definitely loved all the 2nd graders on his baseball team. But kids of his own? Not a chance. Mags had made the mistake of asking Doug one day how many kids he wanted them to have. He made it very clear that zero was the number he wanted to have. Something about living the worst childhood possible and never wanting his own child to have to bear that burden. Mags guessed she could have fought his views on children, but she quickly realized that 17
even though she knew she’d be an amazing mother, Doug would never be a good dad. Mags’ mom died when she was halfway through college. So of course she wanted to have a child, and she so badly wanted to be a mother. But Doug gets what Doug wants. Mags didn’t really have any friends of her own. She definitely was not the type of girl that had three million “besties”. Doug, on the other hand, had more friends than Mags could even keep track of. And once Doug and her had become official, all his friends became her friends. Suddenly “Doug” became “Doug and Mags” and Mags had almost every night of the week booked with different events and socials and parties. It was addictive, and she loved every second of it. But again, all good things must come to an end. Doug had to leave town for two weeks for on-the-site training and Mags had strict instructions to be at two bridal showers, one baby shower, and three club socials. At first Mags didn’t notice anything odd, until she was at the first club social. She realized that unless she initiated a conversation or walked into a group, no one talked to her or came by her. Without Doug, she was a “nobody” to these people. Mags ended up skipping the other two socials. She came to the sad realization that not only was she a “nobody” to them without Doug, but maybe she was a “nobody” to herself without Doug. While Doug was gone, Mags felt like a lost puppy. And pathetic. A pathetic, lost puppy. She even went so far as to call Doug one night and ask if there was anything he needed her to do while he was gone. The rest of the time Doug was gone, she tried remembering what her life revolved around before Doug became the center of everything. When Mags saw the positive sign on the pregnancy test, she was actually happy. For about ten seconds. Then she realized that Doug might actually kill her when he found out. And even though Mags had known that she had a baby inside of her for only one minute, she knew that she was going to do whatever it took to have this baby and to get to a place where she was happy about it. Whatever it took. Mags was going to leave Doug. She wasn’t even going to go back to their house. She would get straight on the highway and head to her parents’ house and 18
have her stuff shipped to her. She would get a job. She’d sell her stuff. She would do whatever it took to get on her own two feet and provide for this child. Mags would be the best mom in the world. She knew her parents would love to have her home. And they had been waiting so long for a grandchild. They’d be so happy. And she’d be so happy. Right? No one would believe that Doug has a romantic side. If Mags hadn’t been with him for four years, she wouldn’t even believe it. But he had been a loving guy a time or two throughout their relationship. About a year after they met, Doug and Mags decided to move in together. Of course, Mags had to initiate it and she had to convince him that it would be beneficial to him, and in the end, they decided she would move in with him. As they carried the last boxes out of Mags apartment, she was overwhelmed with sadness. She sat down right in the middle of the empty room and began crying silently. She was hoping Doug was already down the stairs and wouldn’t even notice she wasn’t behind him. Mags wanted the last few seconds to be just her and her apartment. She had so many memories there. So many firsts and lasts. And now it all came down to cardboard boxes and throw away bags. She had left her keys on the counter along with her last month of rent. It was slowly becoming real that she was losing the only place she could call her own. Mags was startled out of her pity-party when Doug sat down next to her. She looked up and saw the time on the clock behind his head and realized she’d been alone for almost thirty minutes. How did she not notice that? Mags refocused on Doug when he put something in her lap and she saw what he was handing me. A package of modeling clay. Then Mags remembered a couple months ago when she had told him she wanted to fill their Christmas tree with memorable things. He suggested that she push her apartment key into the clay so that she always had a part of her apartment with her. It was such a sincere moment that Mags never wanted it to end. As she stared up at him, she never thought she could love a man more. That day was such a great day. They unpacked her boxes into “their” apartment, as he kept calling it. That would always be one of her fondest memories of Doug. 19
Doug was not happy when Mags didn’t come home the day she found out she was pregnant. Mags had called her parents and told them everything and asked for a few hours to herself while she drove home. When she got to her house and turned her phone back on, Mags saw that she had 17 voicemails from Doug. Mags decided that she’d sleep on everything and call him first thing in the morning. But as she lay down to sleep, Mags was surprised at how much she missed his body up against hers. She was overwhelmed with sadness at the idea of never again falling asleep next to the man she loved. That she’d never again come home to him. That she’d never again hear his voice over the phone. It was all too much. Mags slipped out the front door and walked far enough from the house that her parents wouldn’t hear her as she called Doug. He sounded miserable. He said he had been up all night crying, not knowing where in the world she was. Mags was surprised at the emotion in his voice. She told him she was sorry. She told him she was so, so sorry. Mags never meant to hurt him. She told him she loved him so much but that she needed to leave him. She told him she couldn’t handle it all anymore. And then Mags heard the other end of the line go empty. Once again, she was left hanging. Within a week, Mags had all her stuff moved into a small, twobedroom house on the outskirts of town. Her parents had agreed to help her get on her feet financially. They were so proud of her for leaving Doug. Like it was a thing to be celebrated. Don’t mind the fact that her heart was literally breaking. They were just happy because she had left the man they so badly hated. It took Mags three more weeks to work up the courage to get an ultrasound. It was such an emotional rollercoaster. She was checking up on a baby that was half herself, half Doug. But Mags was doing it alone. Doug should have been there with her. But he didn’t even know this baby existed. Mags was lying on the patient bed when the doctor came in and asked to draw some blood. He told her not to worry, that it was all routine. She was out of the office and back home within the hour. Mags made herself a bowl of cereal that night for supper and ordered a crib and car seat. 20
Mags got the call the following day at three in the afternoon. Her baby had a rare blood disease and would most likely be stillborn. She sank to her knees as the nurse went over options with her. They decided she would continue on with the pregnancy in the hopes that her little baby was part of the 3% that would live through the disease. Mags also decided to keep this all to herself. She knew that if she told her parents, they would encourage her to tell Doug because he deserved to know. Mags kept telling herself that he was better off not knowing. She didn’t even believe it herself. She stopped looking at baby clothes and furniture. The baby crib and carseat were at the local Goodwill. She stopped thinking of names. Mags went through each day just waiting for a reassuring movement inside of her stomach. She wasn’t fine. She wasn’t okay. But Mags was going to prove that she could get through this. And that she could get through this without Doug. Mags had started filling a wall with daily prayers and devotionals that stood out to her. She had never been a very religious person until she realized that God was the only thing that could save her baby. She had prayers, stories, bible verses, and so many other things filling up the wall in what would have been the baby room. Mags would sometimes sit for hours, simply staring at it all. She would hope and pray that her baby would live. She was doing so well without Doug, but it was because she had this baby to center her life around. What if Mags lost this baby? Then what? Was that selfish? Wanting her baby to survive so that she wasn’t stuck in this life completely alone? Maybe it was. But it was the truth. Mags needed this baby just as much as it needed her. Mags was watching an episode of Friends when she heard a knock on the door. She knew it could not be her parents. They would have checked in before they came all the way across town to see her. She hadn’t ordered any food. She hadn’t even given her new address to anyone but the hospital. And even though she missed her last appointment with the OBGYN, she doubted she would get a house call from the nurse. Mags got up and strode across the room, glancing at her prayer wall on the way to the door. She looked through the peephole. 21
Mags stomach dropped. What in the world was Doug doing at her house and how did he find her? It turns out that Mags hadn’t changed her emergency contact on her hospital forms and when she didn’t show up for her last appointment, they called Doug to make sure everything was all right. With a little bit of bribing, Doug said he was able to get her new address and find out why she had been going to the hospital in the first place. He told her how hurt he was that she didn’t tell him he was going to have a child. Doug started telling her about how excited he was to teach his kid how to play baseball and drive a car. He shared with Mags all of his secret desires to have a kid and to give that kid a better life than what he had grown up with. Mags took it all in. She was so sad for Doug that he would most likely never get the chance to do these things with this baby. He finally became quiet for a few seconds before asking if Mags knew what the sex of the baby was. She looked at him in surprise. Had they not told him? Had they not filled him in on the circumstances? Slowly, Mags started telling Doug everything she knew. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. When she finished, she finally took a glance at him and was devastated with what she saw. Mags let him dream this entire time and then took all his dreams away in a matter of seconds. Doug and Mags fell asleep crying and holding each other tightly. Doug went to the hospital the next day with Mags. The nurse asked Mags why she didn’t shown up for her last appointment. Without looking at Doug, Mags told the nurse that she hadn’t felt the baby move in weeks and she was not ready to find out what that meant. Doug sucked in a breath as what Mags said hit him. She began crying silently. The nurse slowly brought up Mags hospital gown and began pouring the ultrasound gel on her stomach. Mags finally snuck a glance at Doug. He was staring at her stomach with a mixture of pure happiness and true sadness. Although Doug had known about this baby for less than 24 hours, he was as invested as Mags was. They waited anxiously as the nurse tried finding a heartbeat. After a few minutes of trying, the nurse said she would give them a few moments. The nurse said the doctor 22
would be in soon to perform a C-section to remove the baby’s body. Doug walked over to Mags, leaned down to kiss her forehead and told her he was so sorry. As if that would fix it all. He watched silently as Mags was rolled away for surgery. It has been two years since the day Mags held her baby. Doug was not there when she woke up from surgery. He wasn’t there as she said her first hello and last goodbye to their baby. Doug wasn’t there as she picked out a casket. He wasn’t there for any of it. Mags would find out one week later that he was found dead in their house. An apparent overdose. Mags was too numb to feel anything. She would later be contacted by his lawyer and told that he left everything to her. It was his final gesture of love. To take care of Mags even though he wasn’t there to do it himself. Doug and their baby were buried beside each other. It was the least Mags could do for Doug. It makes it easier to visit both of them, when they are so close. And it only makes sense that the two people her world revolved around were together.
23
(Untitled Photo) by Natalie Ostrander
Leopard Gecko by Abby Gonzalez 24
The Sprint
__ by Quentin Becker
The dead leaves of late Autumn crackled like burning wood beneath her feet as she strode down the path. The light was failing fast, the red of the sunset fading to bruised purple behind her. The wind was a chill finger playing with the hair on the nape of her neck. As the light faded, her steps quickened. It was a long walk back to her home on the edge of the forest, and she wanted to make it before night fully cloaked the gnarled oaks and stolid cedars. In her left hand, a tin bucket squeaked as it swung, laden with berries. Twilight had fully descended, and the spaces between the trees grew opaque as shadow filled them. Her feet crunched the leaves as she again increased her pace. Suddenly, a twig snapped in the woods to the right of the trail. She stopped short, her mouth open, straining for any sound, any rustle. A cricket chirped somewhere behind her. In the distance, a hawk screeched as it made its way to its roost. A loud crash came from the trees. She screamed as a dark brown form leapt from between a pair of oaks and landed in the middle of the trail a few yards ahead of her. It was a doe, its fur dappled with small white spots. It looked at her for a moment, its nostrils quivering, before bounding back into the woods. She listened to the crash of its retreat, her heart hammering blood through her eardrums. Gradually, as the sounds of the deer faded, they were replaced by cricket chirps, the rustle of the trees in the wind, and the calls of the night birds as they woke. 25
Darkness had completed its descent, and the woods were impenetrably black. She started forward up the trail once more, her steps rapid. The bucket of berries swung like a pendulum in her hand. The wind picked up, dragging a groan from the twisted branches above her. As she walked, she glanced to either side of her, cautious. These were not woods one wanted to be in after dark, and she knew it. There were wolves, bears, and even reports of a (skinwalker) mountain lion frequenting the area. She hurried, her breath coming in short gulps between her parted lips. She suddenly paused, confused. Something was...off. The wind whispered between the needles of a nearby pine, and she realized the wind was the only sound she could hear above the beating of her heart. The woods had fallen utterly silent. It was as though nature was holding its breath in anticipation. Of what, she did not know. A branch snapped, to the left and behind her. She knew it was no deer this time. She began to jog up the trail, casting a glance into the darkness over her shoulder. She saw nothing, but she could sense a presence between the trunks. Her mind raced through the possibilities as she jogged. It could be any number of things; it could be nothing, a squirrel or rabbit. Or, she thought, it could be something much worse, a (skinwalker) bear or wolf. She jogged faster, the bucket rattling, deafening in the silence of the woods. 26
Another branch snapped, closer, causing her to break into a run. She was close to the edge of the woods, and the safety of her cabin. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and a thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead. Her eyes were wide, staring, the eyes of one on the verge of panic. Again, a branch snapped, and she could hear whatever pursued her as it scraped against an oak. She cast her eyes behind her, and discerned a low shape, a darker shade of black than the surrounding forest, as it passed across the trail and vanished back into the trees. That was no bear, she thought. It might have been a (skinwalker) mountain lion. She pushed harder, her feet hammering the dirt beneath the crumbling leaves. She rounded a bend in the trail, and there was the edge of the trees, and her cabin, the window reflecting the rising moon. She let out a choked sob of relief, pushing herself to the edge of her body's limit. The treeline inched closer. A shriek split the air behind her, chilling her skin and sending ripples of gooseflesh across her body. It was a high, piercing wail, with a deep, guttural roar beneath it. It definitely was no mountain lion, either, and she sprinted even harder, her eyes straining from her skull, her lips stretched back over her teeth. She broke the edge of the trees and pounded across the grass outside her cabin. As she reached the door, she fumbled for the latch, sobbing, her fingers skidding over the rough wood. Before she could unlatch the door, a shadow fell across her, blocking the pure light of the moon. She heard soft panting behind 27
her, and a warm gust of fetid air brushed past her cheek. On it, she smelled rotting flesh, maggots, and death. Unwillingly, she slowly turned her head, the tendons in her neck creaking with tension. Her eyes traced along the line of trees until they lit on her pursuer. She screamed, shrill and long, until abruptly the sound was cut short. The bucket of berries hit the ground and spilled, scattering its contents in the packed dirt of her doorstep, mere feet from safety. A dragging sound, loud in the silence, rippled the air, and her body disappeared into the blackness as the dark shape moved back between the trees. Silence took its place, settling over the treeline like a shroud. A thin cloud moved across the now risen moon, dulling its glow. A cricket chirped, then two, then more. A bird gave a tentative call before fluttering from its perch to seek food. It lit in the dirt before the cabin's door and began to eat the spilled berries, its head moving in quick jerks. The wind blew gently against the side of the cabin, where nothing within stirred, or would stir again.
28
I Was Raised by Wrestling by Alberto Jaramillo I was raised by wrestling stomach sunken in waiting for the next meal lips dried up like a raisin “7 a.m.” Step on scale, time to eat. Long curly hair soaked weighed down by sweat covering the face underneath spring-loaded, just like the person underneath skeleton-like body purple singlet glued to the skin shoes laced up, and taped headgear nice and snug “game time” dream of wrestling no girlfriend, too busy wrestling wrestling is life no time for girls state championship on the mind my type of relationship feet bouncing up and down hands shaking head bobbing arms loose limp bizkit “it’s my way” blaring in my headphones town to town every weekend gone new competition, new camp, new opponent time to pack, hop in the van, and go 29
non-stop all year round going to war late night, never ending runs practice, practice, practice always on the move, no time to rest everyday two steps forward, never one step back I was raised by wrestling.
(Untitled Picture) by Natalie Ostrander
30
Mother: A Fairytale for Children by Danielle Berry There was once a little girl who lived in a cottage by the sea. Her name was Ella. Ella was a beautiful little girl, with long golden hair that hung in a braid down her back. She always wore pretty dresses and tied a ribbon in her hair. There’s something else that you should know about Ella--like all children in the land she lived in, Ella had no mother. She didn't even know what a mother was. All she knew was the life she had lived since arriving at the cottage. She had been there for so long, she didn't even know how she'd gotten there. Ella was a spunky little girl. She always liked to explore the beach and the little smattering of forest around the town of Hadra, near which she lived. Her days were full of fun and adventures, and her nights were spent quietly reading or drawing in front of the fire with her cat, Boots. She was genuinely happy... but she always had this tiny inkling that something was missing. One day, she decided she would set off to find out what it was. So, one bright Tuesday morning, Ella packed her bag with clothes and some food from her cupboard, and left her cottage by the sea. She locked the door and bent down to tuck the little key into her sock. As she walked through the streets of the small town near her home, she waved to the boys and girls who played in the park, to the older kids who were running the grocery store, and to the babies who sat splashing around in the small swimming pool set up on the grass. None of them questioned where she was going. She wouldn't have been able to answer even if they had. She didn't need to know where, she just had to walk. One foot in front of the other, for miles on end. By the time the sun set on the first day, Ella's feet hurt and she almost cried as she took off her shoes that night. But she was a brave little girl and refused to let the tears fall. She slept, tucked up against the roots of a huge tree, using her bag for a pillow. When she woke up in the morning, she was cold. The dew made her hair stick to her skin, and she began to shiver. Her teeth chattered and her knees quaked as she got to her feet and pulled a piece of bread off the loaf she'd brought with her. She ate as she walked, looking around as the landscape became less and less familiar. The forest around her grew thicker than she'd ever seen, and the ground got harder under 31
her shoes. As if her feet didn't already hurt badly enough, she could feel sharp rocks poking at her through the soles of her shoes. The weather got colder too. Ella walked for three days and slept for three nights under the branches and by the roots of the trees. The farther she walked, the colder and more frightened she became. Eventually, she couldn't feel her fingers and toes, and the tips of her ears got so cold that her hair froze to them. She couldn’t pull it away. On the fourth night, as she lay huddled in an old hollow log, a North wind began to blow through the forest. It blew and hissed and screeched its way through every crack and crevice, and it shoved its blustery fingers through Ella's log, pinching at every bit of exposed skin it touched. She yelped and asked the wind to stop blowing, but it wouldn't listen. She clenched two fists and held them against her face, trying to block the vicious air. And then it began to snow. By the time she crawled out of the log the next morning, the crunchy, cold whiteness covered everything in sight, and it nearly blinded her. She shielded her eyes from the glare and pressed on, eating the last piece of food she had--a strip of beef jerky--as she went. The snow melted against her shoes and soaked her socks, and her chattering was more intense than it had ever been. She could barely feel the ground beneath her, and her eyes were squinted so tightly that her head began to hurt. She used to think that falling and scraping her knee was the worst pain in the world...but that was before she met Winter. When night fell, she kept walking. She was afraid to lie down and sleep, lest she awake covered in even more snow. As she walked in the growing darkness, she heard the howl of wolves and the hooting of owls, sounds that had never seemed more frightening. Eventually, all was pitch black, and she realized with sudden terror that she no longer knew which way to go. Panic took hold of her, and she began to run. She ran and ran and ran, her heart beating at twice its normal pace, eyes darting to and fro in the blackness, trying to find the way. As Ella ran, she suddenly felt the hard, immovable trunk of a tree, and she bounced back from it, falling on her rump in the snow. Her body already ached with the hunger and the cold, and now this. She wrapped her arms around her legs, buried her face into her knees, and burst into furious sobs, her shoulders shaking as merciful, hot tears poured down her face. 32
Why had she ever come to this place? What had driven her to leave the comfortable life she'd had? Some crazy idea that something in her life wasn't right? Why did she ever think that such a small, insignificant girl as herself could do anything against such a big, harsh world? As she sat there and cried, the wind howled around her, drowning out every sound to her ears but the cries she was making. Because of this, she did not hear the crunch of footsteps in the snow. Because she was hiding her face, she did not see the bright lantern light that spilled across her tiny form. It wasn't until a soft, gentle hand reached out to touch her shoulder that she gasped and turned around. The woman who stood over her was older than any person Ella had ever seen before. The lady had on a big coat, thick pants, and boots lined with fur. A large bag was slung across her shoulder, and a bow and quiver were strapped to her back. She had her hair up in a bun, and in her hand she carried a lantern. Ella just stared for the longest time. The woman tried to speak over the wind, but it had gotten so bad that she could not make herself heard. So instead, she picked Ella up and held her close as she trudged off in the opposite direction the little girl had been so frantically running. It wasn't long before they reached a house, and the woman took Ella inside. The house was warm, and Ella looked around. It was cozy and full of furs, blankets and quilts. There was a couch and a rocking chair by a fireplace, and from the kitchen she could smell all kinds of good smells. The girl looked up at the lady, and whispered, "Thank you." "You're welcome," responded the lady. Her voice was like nothing Ella had ever heard. It was soft and deep, and sounded like music as she continued speaking. "Now what on earth is a child like you doing out in a blizzard like this? You'll catch your death. Get those cold shoes off your feet." The woman introduced herself as Ember. She said that she had been living in these woods for a long time, and she almost never saw a living soul pass by her front door. She told Ella that she was a very lucky girl, because it wasn't normal for Ember to go out in a storm. But for some reason she had felt like there was something wrong, and lo and behold, not six yards from her porch she'd found Ella. They talked a lot that night, about everything. About animals, about snow and sunshine, about how angry the North wind was all the 33
time. When Ember brought Ella some hot soup, they started talking about food, and eventually Ember asked where the little girl was from. "We call our town Hadra," Ella said, as she ate the soup, "But no one like you lives there." "Why, whatever do you mean?" Ember asked, curiously. "We're all kids. And I know you're not a kid." "Well, that is a surprise. There are no parents? No mothers?" Ella cocked her head to one side, and looked up at the woman with intent eyes. "What's a mother?" Ember sat for a long time, thinking deeply. Ella could almost see the thoughts passing through the lady's eyes. Then, she finally spoke. "A mother is a gift from God, Ella. He gives us mothers because He knows we need them to survive in this world. A mother guides her child in the way he should go. She teaches him the important things in life. I'm not talking about manners and being nice to other people, though those are good things. I'm talking about deep questions. "A mother keeps you warm when the rest of the world turns a cold shoulder. She tells you it's going to be all right when you're scared. She prays with you, holds you, and tells you stories before you go to bed at night. But most of all, she loves you no matter what." Ella thought about this for a long time once the woman was done talking. After nearly fifteen minutes of silence, the girl finally looked up. "You're a mother, aren't you?" "I was, once." "Will you be my mother?" Ella asked, her voice barely above a whisper. With tears in her eyes, Ember leaned down and pulled Ella into a tight hug. The lady thumbed her tears away and nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll be your mother." And so it was that Ella found what she had been missing for so long. She stayed with Ember for several days, before the two of them made the journey back to Hadra together. They rode in Ember's wagon, and as they wound through the forest on a road Ella hadn't known existed, everything seemed so much less frightening. The trees didn’t seem so big and black, and when the wolves howled at night, Ember explained to Ella that they were just talking to each other; there was nothing to fear. They reached the town in a matter of days, and Ember moved 34
into Ella's little cottage by the sea. All the children flocked around to meet the lady, and she got to know them each by name. Every night, she would start a fire on the beach, and all the children would gather around and she would tell them a story before they all went home to bed. She gave them guidance when they asked for it, and let them go it alone when they didn't want her help. She hugged them when they needed it and dried their tears. She listened to their problems, and helped them overcome what they were scared of. She taught them to pray and taught them to love. Every night, in the cottage by the sea, Ember would tuck Ella into bed and remind her that she would always be her special little girl. And they lived happily ever after. The End
Catharsis (Acrylic on Canvas) by Jessica Lewis 35
Atop the Lobby by Alexander Boss
Screeching, whooping, hollering, Until the morning sun The sound rolls deep. Room above the lobby, The noise won't die out I will never sleep.
Where Sun and Silhouette Meet by Jessica Lewis 36
Only Me
__ by Natalie Ostrander
How can it be that only me Is stranded here On this small isle? I have no fear. I am not in denial. But I wish I could be Like the souls in the sea. There was a dreadful gale Full of lightning and hail. Our ship was meanly toss’d And thrown into the sea. All lives aboard were lost Every life but me. And now I curse the sea and rail Against the wind that dared to touch our sail. That I alone am spared Seems to be not quite fair; For I see my ship, wreck’d With bodies floating dead And I, Hell’s one reject, Do naught but dread
37
That I must keep breathing air And not be at rest in a dark and wat’ry lair.
(Untitled Picture) by Natalie Ostrander 38
The Wind
__ by Natalie Ostrander
Oh wind, Oh wind How you blow How you blow and blow And never slow. I search and search for you And find you. And you find me. We meet and you beat And beat into me With your ferocity. But I beat back And scream into you. We have an understanding, We two. Oh wind, Oh wind How you blow How you blow and blow And never slow. Your intensity Blows into me And it fills me With an exhilaration
39
That makes me feel free And strangely ethereal. I am the wind And the wind is me. We are one; And we are free. Oh wind, Oh wind How you blow How you blow and blow And never slow.
40
Jacob
__ by Brianna Horvath
I picked him up and we went to our old-time favorite coffee shop. He seemed fairly normal at first, which is why I was confused by what he had said the day before. He had texted me an apology saying he was rather strange right now. I assumed he meant he was still in the state he was in when I saw him last. No, as the afternoon ticked by, it became increasingly obvious that Jacob had lost himself. His curly hair was gone. His head was shaved. He had three new tattoos and a labret piercing. The sprightly Jacob I knew had been replaced with a post-modern Brahman. He said conversation was “pretty hard” for him, which I said was okay, and then we continued to stare at the teas on display and the espresso machine in front of us. The baristas at the shop were as friendly and talkative as ever, but I felt like I was with a child, so my guilt quickly pulled me back to his side. It was beautiful outside. The snow was only a day or two old and it outlined the sidewalk with Crayola white. His silence was unnerving, his pained waddle, always two steps behind me, was not the bouncy, angsty step I remembered. After an awkward car ride back to his house, we hobbled inside, met his two cats, and sat crossed legged in the living room. Jacob laid out a sketch pad and colored pencils−the pad between us and the pencils fanned out to my left. We sat in utter silence, save the clock ticks, while he slowly pulled himself into a trance-like state. I asked him if he usually focused on an idea or a feeling. He didn't answer, but instead starred at the blank page. A few seconds of silence passed. “You said you drew me?” He shook his head like a dog awaking from sleep. “Huh? Uh, yeah.” He turned back a page in the sketch-pad and revealed a beautiful drawing; it was the most intricate one out of all of them. It was utterly astonishing. It was a flower, made up to look cerebral, planted in an antiquated-looking vase made up of emerald gems. The flower was perfectly created, each petal fluid and pear-shaped. There was an impression of a nose and mouth, but the rest of my face was invisible among the delicate details of the brain. Every curve was lined with many 41
colors lightly shaded to create an alluvial fan. I was speechless. “Why did you draw me? Why not someone else?” His eyes flicked up. “You've always had good energy.” His response squeezed my heart. As He began to lightly and slowly scribble across the page, I saw that his meditation was not just an attempt to make sense of the mush of his mind, but also to create something beautiful out of what he didn't understand. He said, at this point, the damage is probably irreversible. My comparatively quick movements along the other half of the page and back and forth between different pencils shocked him like a fish touched with a finger; he was so unaware, so sensitive. He said his mom thinks he should socialize more. I asked him who his friends are; he didn't answer, he only looked down. I knew he meant Noah. The corner of his mouth twitched. I drew and drew, allowing the emotions of confusion, creativity, and oddity to baptize me and channel onto the paper. I first sketched a blue flower from a trumpet vine. The vine connected to the outline of what became the world- but not quite the world, an eye, really… which was veined with rivers. Covering the globe was a scroll- or maybe it is woman's hair. At the paring of the scroll was a delta. Drinking from the rivers was a fiery hummingbird. Its body was blue, but its wings were red and orange. Tapping into the Eye with its golden tongue, it drank the syrup of life into its own River. I put the last colored pencil down. Jacob startled and hazily stared into my eyes. “Come back.” I pleaded. “I see you beneath those brick eyes. Come back.” But he didn't see the words in my eyes. He squinted and his brow molded into a furrow. His hands shook, his shoulders hunched; He had shriveled like burning flash paper. “I've never really studied your eyes,” He mumbled. And suddenly, he was burrowing… a rabbit seeking refuge in the earth of my soul. I retreated… shot up a wall. Of course, he was puzzled. As he tilted his head to the right I said, “I've always had difficulty being vulnerable.” He nodded in understanding. 42
Silence. Minutes. He continued to observe, to journey deeper, to look for himself in me. “What do you see?” I asked. He began to search again. I relaxed, breathed, tried to let him in to see me, see my soul. My heart raced, my palms grew clammy. The only comfort I had in that room was the plush cat weighing down my right leg. After moments, I broke. It was too much for me; he would not voice what he saw and I am cold from exposure. I blink… a veil. Some moments stick like the brutal sweat of a southern summer. I may live in that moment for an eternity. “I can't get over how content this cat is.” I smiled when I could've wept. Glancing up at the clock, I noticed the time. We had been seated in stillness for over fifteen minutes. “Well, I had better be going.” He startled again, and as we stood, I could see the sadness on his face, in his bones, as we stretched the stiffness out of our settled muscles. Putting on a coat is very different when one is grieving. I slipped it on anyway, my coat of grief. Shoes, purse. I turned and he was there, very close, fragile as a child after a nightmare. “Jacob,” I whispered “I've just always wanted you to be happy.” I paused, but then said, “In order to find yourself, you must simply be yourself.” We hugged goodbye and I again felt how small he was. He didn't want to let go, but I moved back first and he reluctantly surrendered. Outside the sun illuminated the neighborhood's new snow. The glistening was beautiful, almost translucent in spots, but all things considered, I couldn't truly appreciate it. When I was a child, I loved to play in the snow. I loved to sink my puggy kid-hands into the ice crystals and make snowballs, shove snow in my face, and make snow angels. But when my fingers turned purple and my mouth grew numb, the tears would start. There is something every child must learn: Cold snow can burn.
43
Chemistry Love Poem #9
__ by Cheryl Ratliff
The Chinese believe in winding red string — bound ankles, and the shrinking space between, soul mates drawn together — lives serpentine — coiling. Our hearts the spools, DNA the string. Chemical compounds attract and repel. Oxytocin put me under your spell. You say, “No such thing, this so-called fated. Hormonal reactions make us mated.” What of God’s plans? Divine hands that design the taste of your kiss— your hand pressed to mine— Genetics control attraction, it’s true. God engineered me perfectly for you. Don’t fear the tension — we’re ready to spring ‘cause I still believe in winding red string.
Tiny Warrior by Jessica Lewis 44
The Day Leonard Blush Died_______________________________ by William Fox Have you e’er heard of Leonard Blush? And how he passed away? If not I’ll tell you the whole truth, And talk about that day. T’was a butcher knife that he had, He used to cut his food. He tried to cut his hair with it, The thought was rather screwed. He said he’d cut it in one swoop And grabbed his hair in hand. He swooped and missed and scalped his head Like Custer at his Last Stand. Leonard survived a great many things And he survived this too. One good thing about this mess was, No more buying shampoo. But Leonard’s tale continues on What else could possibly go wrong? On the train tracks he saw a coin Someone wanted to smash. He bent down to pick it up ‘cause He was real short on cash. He examined it clearly and Saw it had been smashed flat. So happy was he, he did not see The train and got hit. Ker-splat. Leonard survived a great many things 45
And kill him this did not. But so replaced with parts was he, He was a half-robot. But Leonard’s tale continues on What else could possibly go wrong? One day while in the woods he saw Some honey in the trees. He started eating all he could And left none for the bees A bear saw this and had to teach The man a lesson ‘cause He broke bear law, and so the bear Smacked the man with his paws. Leonard survived a great many things And survive this he did. So scarred was he, he burned the bear He slept with as a kid. But Leonard’s tale continues on What else could possibly go wrong? It started raining one May day. It was a real downpour. And Leonard Blush got caught in it While walking to the store. Lightning was striking all around And Leonard did get struck. Burnt like a ‘mallow and passed out Before he could say, “Oh crap.” Leonard survived a great many things; He survived this with ease. Ever since then his nose shot sparks 46
Whenever he would sneeze. But Leonard’s tale continues on. What else could possibly go wrong? He walked along a cliff one day And thought it would be cool To try his hand at cliff jumping Like a moronic fool. Because right after Leonard jumped And yelled “Geronimo!” He looked downward and saw that there Was no water below. Leonard survived a great many things And he got off this cheap. But he would always remember To look before you leap. So Leonard’s tale continues on. What else could possibly go wrong? Leonard was hunting with a friend Who thought of William Tell. Said, “Place this apple on your head, I can shoot it just as well.” Now Leonard was a trusting guy; He did as his friend said. His friend shot at the fruit and missed And hit Leonard’s forehead. Leonard survived a great many things And this thing was a breeze. “With friends like mine,” he said, “there is No need for enemies.” 47
But Leonard’s tale continues on. What else could possibly go wrong? Leonard visited his mom who Had baked a berry pie. He ate some, then felt sick and got A twitch in his right eye. He asked what she had put inside, She said, “Boysenberries.” ‘Fore he passed out he saw the jar, It said “Poison Berries.” Leonard survived a great many things This was of the same kind. He couldn’t blame his mom because It turns out she was blind. But Leonard’s tale continues on What else could possibly go wrong? Leonard Blush fell in love one day. This was the one he knew. He planned to ask her for her hand And knew she’d say “I do.” He called her on the telephone And said, “How ‘bout it yo? Want to get hitched?” Boy was she mad And hung up with a “No!”
48
Now Leonard was a fragile man And couldn’t handle it. The moment he was rejected, His heart on him did quit. Leonard survived a great many things But when he was denied He was no more and that’s the tale of The day Leonard Blush died.
49
The Lonely Brick Road by Sami Berry 50
Misfire by Natalie Ostrander Nina: I walked down the dimly lit street, thinking of all the things I had to do that night. I was planning them out in my head, barely even registering the world around me as I walked. It was cold, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. All of the sudden someone stepped out in front of me. I sidestepped quickly, apologizing, but he didn’t let me pass. He grabbed my arm and spun me around. I saw the gun then, glinting in the light from the street lamps. I gasped as he dragged me into the dark alley. “What do you want?” I managed to squeak out. “Shut up, just shut up,” he whispered gruffly while looking around. He pushed me against the wall and then stepped back, pulling the gun up, pointing it at me. “Oh my God, what do you want? What do you want?” I was starting to get hysterical. He wouldn’t answer me. He just pointed the gun at me. I was starting to get light-headed. What is going on? Is he really going to shoot me? I felt the cool bricks behind me, rough on my fingers, pulling me back. “Please,” I pleaded, tears slipping down my face, “please, what do you want?” “Shut up,” he said again, shaking the gun at me. I slumped against the wall. Was he going to kill me? Was this how it was going to end? I felt like I’d been there for hours; it had probably only been about 10 minutes. But still, why was he just pointing the gun at me; if he was going to kill me he could have done it by now. I glanced at him, trying to see his face. What was he thinking? I saw him starting to lower the gun; his hand must be tired by now. But suddenly his hand shot back up and his whole body tensed as…… BANG Kyle: I shot her. I had shot her right in the face, like they’d told me to. I looked at her now, lying slumped on the ground in a pool of blood. Her eyes were open. They seemed to be looking at me. I felt sick. I backed 51
away, hand over my mouth. I wiped blood off my face. My stomach heaved. I had to get out of there. I had to go. I ran out of the alley, the gun heavy in my hoodie pocket. I could hear police sirens somewhere. “They’re after me,” I thought, scared to death. I ran faster; I didn’t even know where I was going. I just ran. Finally I couldn’t run anymore and I leaned against a wall and retched. I slumped down in the alley. I had no idea where I was; I didn’t even care. What had I just done? I’d just killed her. I’d killed someone. I rubbed my hands over my face, breathing heavily. “Oh God,” I cried, “Oh God, I killed her!” I pulled the gun out, looking at it. It was wet; there was blood on it. I ran my shaking fingers over it. It was cold and heavy. Deadly. I hated it then. I hated that gun. That gun I’d always wanted. It would make me tough, I’d thought. Now look at me, crying in an alley. I laughed then, a weird, hysterical laugh that wouldn’t stop. I just laughed until I looked at the gun again and I hated myself. I hated what I’d become. I felt the weight of the gun in my hand and I pressed it to the side of my head. “So this is what it felt like, I thought. I pressed it harder into my head, willing myself to pull the trigger. I must have sat there for minutes, gun to my head, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it…. My grip relaxed. “Yes, I can,” I thought, “I killed her.” I put the gun back up to my head and paused. Then I squeezed the trigger. Click Nothing happened. I lowered the gun. Misfire? I can’t even kill myself right, I laughed morosely. But the more I looked at the gun, the more I hated myself, the more I didn’t want to live. Cocking the gun slowly, I raised it back to my head. I sunk it right on the temple. Then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath…….. BANG No misfire this time. 52
A Study in Violet by Jessica Lewis
Even the Sun Shall Rise by Grant Seufferlein As the moon wanes
And the stars fade Leaving no trace Of the tales that took place The rising fox yawns While the doves sing their morning songs 53
The doe bursts from the womb And the daffodils return from their tombs. The horizon glows with light Scattering darkness and all its fright The fox and doe turn their gaze east Raising their faces to greet The brilliant sun and all its fire Leaving all to admire The glorious golden glow Which melts away the last of the snow While all the earth bathes in this ring The doves their morning song to creation do sing “Even the coldest winter will thaw And although all will one day hear death’s caw All things can mend For even the darkest night shall end Even the sun shall rise.�
54
(Untitled Picture) by Natalie Ostrander
55
For Dad by Renee Wubbenhorst
56
College Poem by Natalie Ostrander To college I go. So excited, So scared. I won’t know anyone there. That’s why I chose it. I will be far from home. That’s why I chose it. I will be my own person. It isn’t easy being your own person. At college I am My own person. I do what I want. Go where I want. But I don’t have Any friends. I am too shy to talk to anyone. I sit alone in my dorm room. I sit alone in the caf. At college I am Smart enough. 57
I can do the work. I can get all A’s, For goodness’ sake. But that doesn’t help The fact that I Am alone. But every day I keep going. At college I am Known as The smart kid. The weird kid. The stuck-up kid? The loner. The kid that won’t Talk to anyone. I’m just too shy I guess…… At college all day, Everyday. I go through the motions And hide in my room. I swear that I’m not weird. No weirder than normal. 58
I admit, though, That I may be picky About who I like To talk to. At college I try To talk to people in class Or sit with them at lunch. I try to be friendly. But it is hard. I’m not an extrovert. But then I meet A friend. Someone I can Talk to. At college I have A friend now. Someone to talk to And joke with. Someone to eat with And walk with to class. Someone to look forward to Seeing each day. It is nice. But not quite enough.
59
At college I have A friend but, Then there are two more. We have doubled And so has the fun. We walk, we swim, We dance, together. But summer is coming. Will it be the same Next year? At college again. The summer has changed My friend group. One graduated. The other has new friends. I still have one friend And we are glad To have each other. But it’s not as fun Without the other two. At college we are lonely but we try To keep busy. We study and Eat together but 60
There is nothing fun to do. We mourn the loss Of last years’ friends. But maybe there will be New friends this year? At college we meet Two guys, and don’t think Anything of it. They are new this year, and have no friends…. We talk a few times But one night we Decide to drive around The backroads Together. At college we have The best time of our lives. We are best friends now And are always Together. We laugh and laugh And try to study. But we are having Too much fun
61
To be very serious….. At college I am Going on a date With one of my friends. I am scared. I have never been on a date before. But I guess I have been here before. I used to not have friends. I guess I will just try, And see how things go At college.
Does That All Matter?
__ by Ashlee Ivey
If she had fallen from Heaven, She’d be the ruler of Hell, And yet the thought is presented on the Golden Plate of clichéd declarations As though it is meant to make her feel Special, Or particularly wanted. Begging For those puckered bits of flesh, Because isn’t that all they are? And he compliments the stars in her eyes without realizing that If it were true 62
He’d be too blind to see that in reality, She’s entirely average. And yet, That is what makes her Beautiful.
One of These Things is Not Like the Others by Sami Berry
63
Alaska by Abby Gonzalez
64
Contributors
______________
Quentin Becker (Editor) Classification: Senior Major: English
Danielle Berry Classification: Senior Major: Theater
Sami Berry Classification: Senior Major: Communication and Theater
Alex Boss Classification: Sophomore Major: Business Administration
Morgan DeBoer (Editor) Classification: Senior Major: English
Amanda Diedrich (Editor) Classification: Junior Major: Secondary English Education
William Fox Classification: Sophomore Major: English
Tyler Goodwin Classification: Freshman
Abigail Gonzalez Classification: Sophomore Major: Psychology
Brinna Horvath Classification: Sophomore
Ashlee Ivey (Editor) Classification: Junior Major: Secondary English Education
Alberto Jaramillo Classification: Junior 65
Contributors Continued Jessica Lewis Classification: Junior Major: Elementary and Special Education
Mrs. Gail Miller Faculty Member: Biology
Natalie Ostrander Classification: Junior Major: Biology
Ariel Warrior Classification: Sophomore Major: Psychology
Grant Seufferlein Classification: Junior Major: Social Science Education
Cheryl Ratliff Classification: Senior Major: Psychology
Renee Wubbenhorst Classification: Sophomore Major: Elementary Education
66
Index Becker, Quentin The Sprint------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 25 Berry, Danielle Mother, a fairy tale for children---------------------------------------------------- 29 Berry, Samantha Doppleganger------------------------------------------------------------------------Nothing to See Here----------------------------------------------------------------One of These Things is Not Like the Other-----------------------------------The Lonely Brick Road -------------------------------------------------------------
7 5 61 49
Boss, Alexander Atop the Lobby----------------------------------------------------------------------- 35 Diedrich, Amanda Two Worlds Collide----------------------------------------------------------------- 14 Fox, William The Day Leonard Blush Died------------------------------------------------------ 44 Goodwin, David Forever A Fight----------------------------------------------------------------------- 6 Gonzalez, Abigail Alaska----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 63 Leopard Gecko------------------------------------------------------------------------ 23 Horvath, Brinna Jacob------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 40 Ivey, Ashlee Forever Thankful--------------------------------------------------------------------- 5 Does That All Matter?--------------------------------------------------------------- 61
67
Jaramillo, Alberto I Was Raised By Wrestling--------------------------------------------------------- 29 Lewis, Jessica A Study in Violet ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
52
Catharsis ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 34 Dusk on Kiplinger Avenue--------------------------------------------------------------------- Cover Tiny Warrior------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 43 Where the Sun and Silhouette Meet-------------------------------------------------------------- 35 Miller, Gail Untitled Photograph----------------------------------------------- Inside Back Cover Ostrander, Natalie college poem-------------------------------------------------------------------------Misfire---------------------------------------------------------------------------------Only Me-------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Wind-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Untitled Photograph----------------------------------------------------------------Untitled Photograph----------------------------------------------------------------Untitled Photograph----------------------------------------------------------------Untitled Artwork--------------------------------------------------------------------Untitled Artwork---------------------------------------------------------------------
56 50 36 38 8 11 13 28 37 54
Ratliff, Cheryl Chemistry: A Love Poem?---------------------------------------------------------- 12 Chemistry Love Poem #9----------------------------------------------------------- 43 Seufferlein, Grant Even the Sun Shall Rise-------------------------------------------------------------- 53 Warrior, Ariel Forever A Fight---------------------------------------------------------------------- 6 Wubbenhorst, Renee For Dad-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 55
68
“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try.” -Dr. Seuss
Sigma Tau Delta Alumni Submission by Mrs. Gail Miller
69
Special Thanks Funded by: York College Student Association Printed by: York Printing Company
70