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Acknowledgements • Student Editors: Phyllis Salling and Andrew Christian • Editor: Tempi Hale • Fiction Editor: Tamara Baxter • Visual Art Editor: Dr. Christal Hensley • Poetry Editor: Dr. Sandy Hiortdahl • Non-Fiction Editor: Josh Archer • Fiction Judge: Tammy Robinson Smith • Poetry Judge: William Wright • Non-fiction Judge: Charles Dodd White • Visual Art Judge: Eva Hunter • Design: Hillhouse Graphic Design, LLC. • Printed by: Franklin Graphics Special thanks to William Wilson, Robert Carpenter, Debi Beverly, Keith Glover, and Thomas Wilson, for help with the production of this magazine. All rights to individual works are retained by the authors or artists. For permission to reprint, contact the author or artist directly. The works published here were created by current students and chosen by outside judges, who are experts in Visual Art and Literature. Views expressed herein are those of the authors, and not necessarily those of the editors or of Northeast State. Northeast State Community College is one of 45 institutions in the Tennessee Board of Regents system, the sixth largest system of higher education in the nation. The Tennessee Board of Regents is the governing board for this system, which is comprised of six universities, 13 community colleges, and 26 area technology centers. The TBR system enrolls more than 80 percent of all Tennessee students attending public institutions of higher education. Northeast State is committed to the education of a non-racially identifiable student body. The college does not discriminate on the basis of race, sex, color, religion, national origin, age, disability, or veteran status in the provision of educational opportunities and benefits. The college complies with Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972, the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 and the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. Inquiries concerning nondiscrimination policies and guidelines should be directed to the director of Human Resources. Northeast State is accredited by the Commission on Colleges of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools to award the associate degree. Contact the Commission on Colleges at 1866 Southern Lance, Decatur, Georgia 30033, or call 404.679.4500 for questions about the accreditation of Northeast State. NSTTCC-107-004 i Echoes and Images . Northeast State Community College Contents Acknowledgements i Contents ii Andrew Christian Beside the Timber Tree 1 Elizabeth Saulsbury The Haircut 2 Lilliana Ascensio The Trail 10 Peter Olson Parts Run 12 Kevin Carrier Suburbia at Midnight 16 Kevin Carrier Macy’s Rocking Horse 17 Scott A. Royston The Unwanted 18 Tucker Foster Forgotten 22 Kevin Carrier Open for All to See 23 Tia Campbell Notice Me 24 Tucker Foster Girl 1 29 Keith D. Seal The Ugliest Walleye Ever Caught 30 Nikki Futch Man to Man 33 Caitlin Meadows The Simple Guy Graphite on Paper 34 Joseph Gaus Hillside Drive 35 Tia Campbell Waiting Digital Illustration 36 Rebecca Fowler Last Time of Fun Black & White Photography 37 Caitlin Meadows Blindspots Acrylic on Canvas 38 Daniel Neubrander Bristol Graphite on Vellum 39 Morgan Keaton A Shelter Dog 40 Patricia Mazzonni Set Me Free 41 Jacob Estepp Tomatoes Digital Photography 43 Rose Potter Black Grass Ink and Ink Wash on Paper 44 Kimberly A. Smith Abstract Hummingbird Acrylic and Salt on Canvas 45 Spring 2013 . Volume 23 ii Contents Kimberly A. Smith Abstract Violin Acrylic on Canvas 46 Kelly Tolley Sleeping Tiger Oil on Canvas 47 Elizabeth Saulsbury Twilight Song 48 Caitlin Meadows Her True Colors Acrylic on Canvas 50 Garrett Wilt The Spider’s Tale 51 Ashley Ward The Light and the Life Black & White Photography 53 Brittany McCullough Silent Tears 54 Michael Devereauy A Grandfather’s Promise 58 Andrew Christian Tourney Match 61 Mista Egnor Blink of an Eye 66 Cassandra Walls One Starry Night 71 Judges 78 Contributors 80 iii Echoes and Images . Northeast State Community College Andrew Christian Beside the Timber Creek First Place, Poetry Traveling down serpentine roads, Ill-paved, clinging to forest, Scattered mountains, I walk here where, Highest summer days lie, Cool under deep foliage. Drawn further along, Alone on the leaf blown way, Opening into valley land witnesses, Of heritage that held on hillsides Stunted cornfield crops before. Now, only the rooted remains of family. Spring 2013 . Volume 23 1 Elizabeth Saulsbury The Haircut First Place, Non-fiction I my hair cut anyway, I wanted a dramatic change, something extraordinary. Looking back, I made several Now, I don’t know if I’ve ever even mistakes that day. gone to a hairdresser before. You see, my The first mistake was asking Mom mother, while not really a cheapskate, likes to cut my hair when she was in the throes to save money where she can; I guess she of one of her cost-cutting, budget-keeping, decides that our hair isn’t worthy of blown money-saving swings. cash. When I say “our,” I mean Mom The second one was asking her to doesn’t only trim my hair, but the entire cut a new style, something that turned out household’s, which, according to the latest to be unique to both my head and her skill. census, numbers eleven: two parents, nine The third was asking her these offspring. All this is to say that my mother things on a sweltering August afternoon, has considerable experience in the noble knowing full well that my mother did hair- art of hair-cutting. cuts on the front porch. The only down-side is that my mom It wasn’t my best day. was a biology major. See, as a biologist, Mom worked II with scissors. That should be a good thing, right? The problem is that Mom I don’t consider myself unjustified gained her experience the wrong way. in wanting that haircut. Despite blonde Biologists use scissors to slice and jokes from some of my more teasing-prone mutilate. In such cases, they are friends, I like my hair. Nothing spectacular, instruments of destruction. And I knew but other people usually seem to like it, that the scissors used to cut my hair must too. be nothing less than instruments of hope. Lately, though, compliments had I was at the crossroads. Going deteriorated from “Ooh, I love your hair!” to a salon was out of the question. So, to “Whoa, your hair is ... long.” should I keep my split ends ‘till the end of They were right. It reached well my days, or let a biologist cut it? It was a down my back, ending in split ends. tough decision. But I reasoned that Mom I needed a haircut. And I didn’t must have a pretty steady hand to be able want just a trim. Because I was getting to turn a frog inside-out (she’s dynamite 2 Echoes and Images . Northeast State Community College with a scalpel). As I struggled to wrench my back Upon my suggestion of a in a semicircle over the bathroom sink, spectacular haircut, Mom pursed her lips something occurred to me. Recently, Mom skeptically and asked just what I meant by had declared that she was on another “spectacular.” money-saving spree. “Nothing too out there,” I answered. Now, these sprees are not un- “Just a little something that’ll make me common. They can often be quite trouble look a little different. A little.” -some, depending on their severity. “Well, I could do layers,” Mom A first-degree saving spree usually suggested. consists of less fast food; in addition, I felt satisfaction, then doubt. Kohl’s trips will usually come to a halt, as Could she do layers? Layers, I thought, well as not disposing of anything that can are easily bungled. With something as possibly be reused in this life or the next simple as an eager trigger finger, an (i.e. “Don’t throw away that cupcake unexpected cramp in the wrist, or a wrapper! If we save enough of them, we sudden remembrance of cookies in the can make drapes for the living room!”). oven, half my hair could be lopped off, A second-degree spending spree and I could be walking around town in a gets more serious. In addition to all the wig for months – an unhappy predicament, above symptoms, Mom decides to cut our to be sure. I politely informed Mom of snacks. No longer will I find Italian Herb such, whereupon she requested that I stop Flatbread Crackers in the cupboard; and being such a drama queen and go wet my when opening the refrigerator to restore hair. my energy, I see a cold, empty shelf in “Wait ... now?” memoriam of my Yoplait Yogurts. When “Yes, of course now. You said you these second-degree saving sprees strike, wanted it cut, didn’t you?” I pace the house with a heavy tread and Well, of course I had wanted it cut. wonder to myself if some mother in Africa, I wouldn’t have said, “Mom, I want my hair while attempting to get her kid to finish his cut,” for the joy of it. But I had assumed dinner of bong-bong leaves, is reminding that she would do it sometime in the next him of the starving children in America. week, not immediately. But, like a good But the point of these troubled daughter, I obeyed. thoughts was that if Mom somehow Spring 2013 . Volume 23 3 managed to get my hair looking worse Roughly the size of a circus tent, than it already did, I couldn’t go to a The Cape is a massive purple plastic salon to remedy the situation. Therefore, creature that Mom entwines us in when this haircut was a gamble. There was no cutting our hair. I’ve had experiences with fallback.

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