Green Eggs and Hamlet 26th Edition of the Southeastern Oklahoma State University Literary Journal Editors Noah Patton Rachel Childers Kameron Dunn
S t a Rachel Corson Dylan Candelora
Lead Designer Michaela Jestis
Cover Designer Chance Mitchell
Faculty Advisors Dr. Randy Prus, Chair of English, Humanities, and Language Jack Ousey, Professor of Art Letter from The Editors Welcome to the 26th edition of Green Eggs and Hamlet. If you are a long-time reader, no doubt you have already noticed some big changes to this year’s edition. When we fi rst sat down to prepare for this edition, we looked through all twenty-fi ve of the previous editions and noticed one thing missing: unity. In the spirit of improving the publication as a whole, we decided that the best way to approach this edition would be to pick a theme. After a long consideration of which theme would best refl ect the beautiful, turbulent nature of life, we decided on Collision, an homage to the contrasts and confl icts that bring us together. We could not have completed this project alone, and there are countless people we would like to thank. To our faculty sponsors, Randy Prus and Jack Ousey, thank you for working tirelessly to make this publication great. To the other wonderful SOSU faculty and staff members, especially Wes Lovell, Russell Poole, and Teresa Anderson, thank you for being patient with us and our many questions. To the students and alumni who sub- mitted literature and art, we wish we could have published every piece we received, and whether you were selected or not, thank you for trusting us with your work. To our friends and family who have supported and toler- ated us during this process, thank you for allowing us to be excited about this project. To our staff members, Rachel Corson and Dylan Candelora, thank you for working so hard to keep us in line. To our graphic design editor, Michaela Jestis, thank you for getting our crazy ideas onto paper, no matter how obscure or demanding. And to all our readers, thank you for making this project worthwhile. We hope you enjoy reading this journal as much as we enjoyed making it.
Best wishes, Table of Contents
Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? | Vivianne Wesley | 6
Surrender | Rachel Hendrix | 6
Cherry Pie | Adeline Patterson | 11
Suspension | Alexis Olguin | 12
Take Me Home | Spencer Cooke | 13
No Refuge | Makayla Coppedge | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 14
Untitled | Alexis Olguin | 17
Salubrious Off ering | Amanda Henslee | 18
El último día | Rachel Corson and Alissa Benson | 19
Deathbed of Lazarus | Elijah Marshall | 20
Untrue Phrases | Cherlyn Snow | Illustration by Sam Case | 21
Untitled | Bryant Lyles | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 22
Impact | Rachel Hendrix | 26
Hips | Kathryn Carter | 28
A Past that Still Dictates | Dewey Briscoe | 29
Summer Things | Cullen Whisenhunt | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 30
Beggars Carousel | Colton Duehning | 32
An Amber Colored Lens | Dewey Briscoe | 33 Nana’s Chair | Stephenie Canaday | 34
I Will Always See You | Sharon Scott | 35
EyeDea | Tyson Hudson | 37
The Other Side | Colton Duehning | Illustration by Chance Mitchell | 38
Zedekiah’s Folly | Chance Eubanks | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 40
Years Go By | Exie Grice | 44
The Red Lady | Spencer Cooke | 45
A Clumsy Friend | Dawn Smith | 46
Golden | Stephenie Canaday | 50
Waiting on Time | Austin Duval | 52
The First Day of School | Adeline Patterson | 53
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Clouds | Tayte Weatherly | Illustration by Darija Catipovic | 55
Chronos | Stephanie Clauson | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 56
Big, Sha-Bang! Adventure | Rachel Corson | 58
Finding Her Voice | Chance Eubanks | Illustration by Michaela Jestis | 62
Untitled | Bryant Lyles | 66
The Color of the Hearth | Cullen Whisenhunt | Illustration by Sam Case | 77
Copious Bounty | Amanda Henslee | 78
The Dove and Wren | Dawn Smith | Illustration by William DeShazo | 80 Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? by Vivianne Wesley
“We can’t call you mom anymore.” I can’t tell you how many times I have heard my kids say this. There was always some reason inspired by their biological mother, Candy, or bio-mom, as I now call her. It always came in phases too: The kids would call me “momma” for long periods of time, then the bio-mom would suddenly disap- prove, and the cycle would repeat. I never really planned to be a parent at this stage in my life – it just sort of happened. I fell in love with a man, in that space between the Bakery and the Deli in Walmart. Not long after- wards, I learned that man had three children. I debated with myself for a while about the right course of action – I mean, he was older than me, I just got out of a relationship, and now becom- ing a parent on top of all of this? I wasn’t sure if I was ready. But then I met them, and I knew it was meant to be. Flash forward a few years: we were planning our wedding, and we were happy. As any young family, we were struggling to carve a place for ourselves in this crazy world. Our kids, Terrance, Ryleigh, and Veronica, were all in school; I was “Surrender” by Rachel Hendrix working as a substitute teacher and as a wouldn’t be the last. I took a long, deep waitress; my husband, Aaron, was work- breath before responding. ing to support us all. Simply put: life was “Why not?” I knew the answer to the very busy for the fi ve of us. Despite the question before I asked. It would start diffi culties we faced, we were content with something like “Mom said,” and knowing that we got to come home to whatever else followed would just be a loving family, regardless of what hap- fi ll-in-the-blank. But I was not sure how pened out there in the world. else to respond to this situation. I mean, it Of course, Aaron and I weren’t perfect broke my heart every time they said it, but parents, and we still aren’t – there is no that was for me to know, not for them. I such thing. But we were trying to do the absolutely hated that their bio-mom poi- best we could, and we are still trying soned them with these sorts of thoughts today. The kids only spent about half of – who was she to tell them who a mother each week with us, the other half they could or couldn’t be – but that was not in spent at their bio-mom’s – the outcome my power to control. of Joint Custody. I always knew parenting My children all shot off a bunch of was a struggle. I had never seen it adver- responses that could be condensed down tised as “easy” or “simple.” Occasionally to “Mom says she’s our only real mom, fun, sure, but always diffi cult. The real and you aren’t. She says we make her struggle, I now know, comes when you sad when we call you mom, and we don’t only have your children half of the time, want to make her sad.” I had heard all and are trying to teach them the values this before. I had also heard that blank you fi nd important; the other half of the fi lled with “she will punish us for calling time someone is teaching them the exact you mom,” “she will be okay with us opposite. Of course, it doesn’t help when calling you ‘mom’ when you and daddy your kids are doubting your role as a are married,” or that “we only have one parent as well. real mom,” among other things. What It was on an average day during that went in the blank never really mattered to happy but crazy time when my kids and me – it was all a slap in the face. All that I were just talking. I was in the kitchen mattered to me was that my babies were preparing dinner, and they were at the being manipulated and there really wasn’t dining room table. They had just fi nished a thing I could do about it. their homework and were in that excited I did the exact same thing I had always state that follows completed obligations on done: I explained, “You know you guys a night with few plans. The conversation can call me whatever you feel comfortable was light and pleasant, until we struck with – Mom, Vivian, whatever.” If they on some chord that reminded Ryleigh, weren’t comfortable with it, why would my middle child, of less simple things. It I want them calling me “mom?” I knew was then that Ryleigh told me, “We can’t I didn’t give birth to them – they knew it call you mom anymore.” This wasn’t the too, though their bio-mom thought we fi rst time this had come up, and I knew it needed reminding. But I never thought
Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? 7 being a mother or father was limited to kids’ new step dad. having been involved in the creation of a We were at one of those points in child. the cycle where the kids had been calling After a moment I added “Regardless me “mom” for a while, except for Ter- of what you guys call me, you’re always rance, our oldest child. He had become my babies, and that’s all that matters to numb to the idea of calling me “mom” me.” I tried to seem happy and unboth- for a long time, thanks to his bio-mom’s ered by this conversation, but it always inconsistency towards the concept. This made me want to cry. weighed heavily upon me, like a brick wall Regardless of what they called me, I that had crashed down and broken into knew they were my babies. I constantly a thousand pieces. It could be fi xed, and repeated this back to myself. I didn’t need even be stronger than before, but it will a name like “mom” to reaffi rm my role. never be put back together exactly as it At least, I didn’t want to need it. Would was. It’s moments like that when you’re I have liked it? Well, yes. What mom watching your child lose their innocence wouldn’t want to be called “mom?” But and you really do hope that the new wall I would have preferred that they hap- is stronger, much stronger, than it ever pily called me “Vivian” than be scared had been. Terrance would never be com- when they called me “mom.” Of course, fortable with calling me “mom,” but to this was just more information I kept to me he will always be “son.” myself – no need for them to be weighed Anyway, as I said, it was during one of down with all this. those good points in the cycle that Veron- The conversation dwindled on to other ica, our youngest child, asked, “Daddy, subjects, and that evening I brought it Momma, would you be angry if we called up with Aaron. He addressed the issue Brandon ‘dad’?” This didn’t upset us. with the kids, again, and said more or less In fact, we were happy that they felt so exactly what I said. He texted their bio- comfortable with him that they wanted to mom and expressed his disapproval of the call him “dad.” More than once Aaron choices she had made with the children, explained to them, “If he loves you like a yet again. As usual, it became a heated dad, takes care of you like a dad, and is battle, and resolved nothing. The cycle there for you like a dad, then he is a dad. just continued. A real dad.” I think the kids were baffl ed Fast forward a few more years by the fact that their bio-dad was so cool and many lessons in parenting: Aaron and with their step dad, but their bio-mom I have married; the kids were all a big part was not cool with their step mom. To be of our wedding. Not a lot else changed: fair, that is a diffi cult concept for anyone our lives were still busy, still crazy, and we to grasp, adult or child. I would not be were still working on creating our place honest if I said it ever made sense to me. in the world. We were also still happy, so When their bio-mom heard word of this, nothing else mattered. Candy had also another battle begun. She declared that I remarried, to a man named Brandon, the am not “mom,” and neither is Brandon
8 Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? “dad.” I must hand it to her, though – at In her eyes it seemed that we were sup- least she was consistent in this regard, she posed to be the estranged family members usually wasn’t. What really bothered me that parented, but could not be parents. was that the bio-mom had recently told This time the battle continued for the children that after we were married a while, much longer than usual. Aaron it would be okay to call me “mom.” We would argue on Brandon’s and my behalf, were married, but it turned out to be pointing out what made us parents. The another promise she made them that bio-mom would argue the opposite po- wouldn’t come true. This was one of sition: that because neither of us created those moments where being a parent real- or gave birth to the children, we were ly sucked. Sometimes you have to let your not parents. I never understood how that children learn through experience, even worked. I always thought it took so much when it is hard to watch. It’s like you’re more than being involved in making a sitting on the edge of your seat, biting baby to be a parent… But what did I your tongue, holding back tears, watching know? unfortunate events unfold. I can’t protect One day, after the heat of the them from the world, sadly – that is the previous battle had fi nally quieted and the reality all parents must face. Well, I can’t warfront was calm, the bio-mom texted protect them from their bio-mom’s broken Aaron and asked, “Does it really not promises and acidic manipulations, either. bother you when the kids call Brandon The cycle continued for quite a ‘dad?’” They had a long text-discussion while: the children could call me mom; about it, not a fi ght. It was a critical mo- the children couldn’t call me mom. ment, for if handled wrong, it would have Repeat. Until one day their bio-mom quickly escalated into an argument, and texted us, angry that the kids were still nothing would have come out of it other being allowed to call me “mom.” Aaron than that depressing part of the cycle coolly texted her back, and explained where the kids did not call me “mom” for that neither one of us were going to stop a while. Aaron was always very good in them from doing it. None of this was new these sorts of situations – he could spot a information. Just as the cycles were very breakthrough moment a mile away. He repetitive, so were the battles that fol- mediated the conversation: there was no lowed. He explained the situation to the anger, no heated emotion, no accusing bio-mom just as he had explained to the the other parent of poor-parenting. She kids so many times before, but this time was genuinely curious how it could not in terms of mothering: If she loves the bother him that he was not the only dad kids like a mom, takes care of them like a in his children’s life. He was determined mom, and is there for them like a mom, to help her see how not forcing or limiting then she is a mom. A real mom. The bio- the kids in this regard was in their best mom disagreed with this, though. She was interest. determined not to let me be “mom,” and I sat beside him as he explained neither would she let Brandon be “dad.” it to her. He explained what he and I had
Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? 9 discussed so many times in the past about how love is not a factor limited by blood. The discussion lasted for a few hours, and at the end it seemed as though a weight had been lifted off of our shoulders. It was an amazing breakthrough. Candy agreed that she would no longer forbid the chil- dren from calling me “mom,” or Brandon “dad,” if that is what they wished to do. There were no more battles for the title “mom” or “dad,” and that was such a relief. Though Terrance still will not call me mom, Ryleigh and Veronica will switch between calling me “momma” and “Vivian.” It is good to know that despite the struggles, we have all managed to rebuild that brick wall that was torn down so many times, and we are stronger for it. No, it is not the same wall, but I think it was an important part of our journey together. And, because Joint Custody will fi nd other ways to burden my babies, I will always try to be the “mom” my chil- dren need, regardless of what I am called. I want to protect them from everything within my reach, and prepare them for everything beyond. ◆
10 Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up? Cherry Pie
When two cultures collide, Never are they seen as equal. The webs of signifi cance The recipes Are ignored as the Other is forced into the oven.
Western Dominance is controlled by their perspective of the Other. Their favorite fl avor is blood red Cherry Pie. Equality is a myth HUMAN is relative Just like one’s opinion of pie.
Pie is the staple food of all cultures But each pie has diff erent ingredients Political peaches cause action Ideological apples inform belief The cost of grapes aff ects the apples and the peaches
Pie leads to war, smallpox blankets, and ethnic cleansing A person’s taste in pie defi nes their treatment of other’s pie
Food fi ghts Pie wars Colliding perspectives A cherry falls to the plate, red ooze dripping from the crust. Pies are not the ingredients of equality
by Adeline Patterson
Cherry Pie 11 NEED PDF
“Suspension” by Alexis Olguin Take Me Home Oh, twisted form that fi lls the fabled heaven, Distorting and contorting night so fair. Why do you seek to skew and change the image? And leave the sky in fractured disrepair…
An enigma in a night so greatly damaged. The object of my sight and too, my mind. Why distort the night in such a fashion? Why fi nd the form and leave us far behind?
The darkest form begins to reach and grab it. It bends and burns in darkness and in light. The steeple reaches forth before the wormhole, and aims it at the foreign satellite.
A voice begins to call out from the wormhole. It speaks the words of Styx and calls me home. I stand atop a mountain ‘neath the starlight and wait beneath the closing astrodome.
They arrive; I climb aboard in wonder, a journey from my world and from my home, I left my mind before I joined the journey, So hitch a ride and just feel free to roam.
by Spencer Cooke
Take Me Home 13 No Refuge by Makayla Coppedge
Illustrated by Michaela Jestis
It was about time for my daily run as I got dressed and put my shoes on. I kissed my son and husband and said, “I’ll be back soon!” as I walked through the door. I placed my phone in my armband and waited for my watch to connect as I shook my legs out. e breeze had a slight chill in it, which made me happy to nally get a break from the unusually hot fall we had been having. Once it was connected, I started my run just as I do every day. I made it through the park, across town, passed the high school, and then my favorite part of my run, Refuge Road. I loved this part because it was so quiet, so peaceful. ere were no houses, no people, only an occasional car passing by. e only sound that could be heard was the wind rustling through the trees and the rhythm of my breathing and feet becoming one with the pavement. My mind was free.
14 No Refuge All my thoughts, all my stress was lifted, as Seconds felt like hours. I increased my feet stuck the ground and carried me my pace, but felt the car inch closer. The forward. screech of tapping breaks fi lled my ears. A distant sound of a car coming fi lled Everything became a blur. I went for my my ears, so I got on the very edge of the phone again when I heard the car door road. The little white car fl ew by me as open. Footsteps rushed towards me. The close as they could get, forcing me to jump phone that was once in my hand fell to the over into the ditch on the side of the road. ground. I sprinted as fast as I could, but “Seriously!” I yelled. What the heck was all speed was never my strong suit. I cut to- that about? There’s a whole road. Despite wards the woods. My foot caught on a root, the aggravation, I continued my run. A little and I stumbled. In that second the man was while later I heard a car coming behind me, able to get close enough to grab my arm. this time it was going extremely slow. A feel- I screamed, but the only thing that heard ing of discomfort crept through my body. my pleas for help were the trees. I fought as My heart started racing. My mind went in a hard as I could. I pulled, kicked, did every- million diff erent directions. What do I do? thing in my power to keep this man from Don’t panic! It’s probably nothing. They taking me, but his strength overpowered my must not be from here and are just enjoying weak body. He placed a rag over my mouth the scenery. and as I breathed Something did “Something did in my mind began not feel right. They to swirl while my were lingering too not feel right.” legs became weak. close for too long. I Everything became pulled my phone out of my band and dialed black. I felt as if I were fl oating as my body my husband. It rang..and rang..and rang. was carried to the car. Come on, Luke. Answer your phone! It When I awoke all I could see was felt like an eternity until I heard the famil- darkness, and my hands were tied behind iar voice mail. My stomach tied in knots my back. Where am I? Tears fi lled my eyes as my legs carried me as if nothing were as I quickly came to my senses. I realized wrong. I tried again, but received the same I was in the trunk of the car. How do I get outcome. I left a voice mail saying, “Hey, out of here? The string had been cut on I am about four miles down Refuge Road. the inner release to open the trunk from the There is a little white car following me. I inside. Had he been planning this? I heard do not have a good feeling about it and just my watch beep. My watch! I remembered wanted someone to know where I am. I love telling my family a joke that if I ever were you…”. I could feel the car getting closer as to get abducted while running that they can the rattling exhaust pipe disrupted my every track the satellites on my watch. I prayed thought. The quiet secluded road was no they would remember that. I was able to see longer a peaceful place. Panic set in. Do I that it never got turned off so it is still track- call the police? ing where I go. I also remembered watching What if it is nothing? Then I will feel like a movie where a girl was trapped in the an idiot. trunk of a car and kicked out the taillight, so
No Refuge 15 I tried just that. I kicked as hard as I could, “Please don’t hurt me!” I pleaded for but it was not giving. I tried again, this time mercy, but the rag over my mouth turned there was a glimmer of hope. I felt the light my words into a mess. begin to loosen, so I gave one last kick and He glared at the broken taillight and the taillight was out. I am going to make it mumbled under his breath, “You stupid out of here. bitch.” I turned myself around so I was able He grabbed me by my hair and dragged to see out of the hole. The light burned me into a shed that looked like it was barley my eyes as they came into focus. I did not standing. I felt like I was in a nightmare. As recognize where we were, but it looked like I stumbled, the man shoved me through the some old highway. There were no other cars door. He then placed cuff s that were as cold around us. What do I do now? The car then as ice around my wrists, binding me to the turned off of the highway onto a dirt road. wall. I looked around only to fi nd another Fear crept into my mind. What if they are girl chained to the wall. She looked like she not able to fi nd me? Do they even realize I had been locked away for a few weeks now. am missing yet? As we turned onto the dirt Her jet-black hair was in knots, and bruises road a car passed by on the highway. I stuck covered her thin body. She was crying when my foot out of the hole praying that they the man’s icy words tore my stomach to would see and realize something was not shreds, “Make a sound and your dead.” right. I saw them tap their brakes. Please be The man slowly walked over to the other calling the police! girl with a club in hand. He swung with We continued down the road when I all his might. The girl screamed. I sobbed. heard in the distance a faint sound of a car What is this place? Who is this man? Again coming behind us. My ears were fi lled with the man swung and the girl let out another the sound of freedom as I recognized the scream. I felt light headed. The world start- sound of sirens. As the police car neared ed spinning. I shut my eyes real tight. the one I was trapped in, my abductor When I opened my eyes I was welcomed accelerated. The chase was on. We were with the familiar view of my ceiling. I shot racing around turns, and sliding all over up as fast as I could with my heart racing. the road. I was thrown from one side of The sound that was once the screams of the trunk to the other. Every now and then the girl next to me, I now recognized as my I would get a glimpse of the red and blue sons cries in the night. Next to me I saw fl ashing lights out of my little window of my husband lying peacefully asleep, not freedom. The lights began to fade and the the screaming girl. I began to sob when my sirens that once rang loudly, now sounded husband awoke. like a whisper in the distance. My abductor “What is wrong, Honey?” had lost the police. “I had the dream again…” I said with Suddenly, we came to a stop. I heard the tears streaming down my face. man cussing when he walked around the “You have to fi nd a way to put this car. The trunk was opened. The man ripped behind you. He’s been locked up for over a me out of the truck. year. He can’t hurt you any more…” ◆ “Get out”, he growled.
16 No Refuge by Alexis Olguin “Salubrious Off ering” by Amanda Henslee El último día
Only dos planetas En todo el time Están destinado para chocar Este will signifi car el termino de sus vidas En de estos planetas desafortunados era La Tierra ¿Cómo los científi cos y las noticias le tell a toda de la humanidad? ¿What la gente hace cuando sabe nada existirá en algunos meses? ¿Por qué our vidas van a terminar? Días del sol, felicidad, familia, risa, amigos y sonrisa También días de las guerras, destrucción, odio, detesto, hambre y muerto Y el future incluye nada, entonces, ¿qué fue el objetivo de vida? Todas las personas holds a su vida por la última vez No personas ni cosas son perdonado La one cosa que tú sabes es la está terminado and No puedes cambiar su futuro la colisión sale nothing Pero polvo en el cielo Vida is corto, Pero aperece inmortal Hasta que desaparece
by Rachel Corson and Alissa Benson
El último día 19 Deathbed of Lazarus
Weep not; for once I lay in darkest sleep Both from you and from Him departed And He called me back to Him,
And to you.
Weep not; for still I lie in dark’s old keep Though not from you, from Him I’m parted, And He calls me back to Him.
And you, you too will someday come; Weep not. Weep not.
by Elijah Marshall
20 Deathbed of Lazarus Thirteen Ways of Looking at Clouds Untrue Phrases by Cherlyn Snow
They say to avoid clichés, But what about when they are unavoidable? The Irish countryside really does roll. An endless sea of green goes over hills and mountains, Painting it all to be lush and welcoming. Ireland’s scenery is refl ected in her people. Lively, interesting, and welcoming. Just like their beautiful homeland, They always have a story to tell, And you know it is going to be a good one. So that’s a time when a cliché is true; What about when they are not? “It rains all the time in London.” Yet, I never felt a drop while I was there. The skies were not clear, But no water fell. Kind of like London’s people. It is always busy there, Never stops. People always going, Going Going Going to that next stop. But then they are on the move again. A busy place London is, But if you listen, She has a story to tell you, too
Illustrated by Sam Case
Untrue Phrases 21
Untitledby Bryant Lyles Illustrated by Michaela Jestis I catch myself staring at him again exact same spot on the edge of the bed at as he looks forlornly at the newspaper in his the end of the day. hands. I am trying to see if it’s still really His battle started on December him sitting in that armchair. He comes and 17th, 2014. I was sitting in my truck, goes now. I don’t recall when his quizzical sheltered from the cold drizzle outside. My face distorted into one of utter hopelessness. thirty minute lunch break is usually pretty I was probably dozing off , all the better peaceful, a reconvening with my humanity because I hate seeing that change. He hates before being swallowed by factory produc- showing it too. Throughout the day he tion schedules all over again. Missed calls expends a good amount of energy trying often bring me stress. Multiple missed calls to conceal it, but when he gets preoccupied from my grandmother, my mother, and my with something like trying to read the news- sister tell me everything and nothing at the paper he forgets his family is watching and same time. He had been laid up in bed sick after three or four failed attempts he gives the last couple of days. It wasn’t hard to put up on the facade. together, but it was hard to return the calls. My grandad hasn’t always been I remember taking a deep breath of hot air defeated by newspapers, or befuddled by the before turning my heater off . The compres- act of putting on shoes. In fact, he used to sor squeals when the fan is on high. Hon- be quite good at conquering newspapers, estly, I thought he was dead. It’s where my dictionaries, medical journals, and books on mind fi rst went. I was subconsciously pre- World War II. As for the shoes, there was a paring for the worst case scenario I guess. A time when they were dealt with swiftly and phone call later and my mind had enough effi ciently. He would sit on the edge of his facts to work with. As I trudged through the bed with one shoe sitting in his lap. From parking lot back towards the plant I started there, he’d tug on the cross laces then pull processing. He had a stroke, hit his head, up the tongue. First in went the bunion unresponsive, and currently on his way to pad followed next by the Dr. Scholls Extra Dallas in an ambulance. Support insole. When his gnarled feet fi nally My mom’s Chevy Malibu threatens slipped into the New Balances he would tie to rattle apart when you get it to around sev- them so tight that the only time they came enty miles per hour. It’s a 2008 model and undone was when he returned back to that it really shouldn’t be in the pitiful condition
Untitled 23 it is in, but she hit a hog, a big sow, out on showing me the results of his ct scan the a back road in Novice, Texas only months next day. The whole backside of his brain after purchasing it. The sow survived. My was black, quiet, no communication with sister and I still tease her about it to this day. the parts that still had the lights on. The We try to get her to admit she hit a person. same day I saw that image, he spoke for the My mother does this thing when she’s ner- fi rst time since the start of it all. I think he vous where she holds an almost closed fi st said my sister’s name, but it was slurred. over her chest. She held it there the whole Then he made what I’m almost certain was way to Dallas and it remained even as we a joke because he smiled after the punch walked through the hospital searching for line. Every word he spoke was slurred and I his room. My sister and I chose to relieve thought that was going to be his condition my grandmother of her shift of watching for life. I thought he was going to be bed over him. Luckily, my aunt has lived in ridden and unintelligible. Dallas since I’ve been alive so we were able He proved me wrong though. to send her and On Christmas my mom away Day he fi nally to actual beds. It’s amazing what got moved to a We dutifully hospital in Paris, took up our po- damage the human body Texas. He was sitions. She sat only thirty min- right next to his can endure and utes from home, bed and fought from Hugo, but with him when- eventually mitigate. he still wasn’t ever he would home and ever begin tugging since I spent that at his array of tubes. She had already spent fi rst night in the hospital with him that’s all I a night with him so she was already in care- wanted for him. I would sit across from him giver mode. It’s strange to watch your closest in his hospital room and watch as he tugged family members change like that. To see the at sheets and reached up in to the air, responsibility and its weight dispersed evenly grasping at what I thought to be nothing. I’d around the whole family. watch his battles unfold every night and I couldn’t help but think that his predicament That fi rst night sitting with him was the wouldn’t be so bad if we could just get him fi rst time I saw him engaged in a battle. I home. What a terrible realization it is know- guess for his life, but I’m still not sure. His ing that everyone laid up in a hospital bed eyes almost never stopped moving under- just wants to get back to the place they’re neath their lids and he clawed and grabbed most comfortable. They want to go back to at the bed sheets throughout the night. It the mundane which we take for granted and was the beginning of me watching a man yet they can’t. I thought about it every time fi ght off some encroaching darkness every I left the hospital to go sleep at my aunt’s or time he fell asleep. Darkness that I wouldn’t to drive back to Durant. have been able to see if not for the doctor
24 Untitled In Paris he began walking again and he met twice a day with a speech and physical therapist even though his slur had already vanished after his fi rst night in Paris. It’s amazing what damage the human body can endure and eventually mitigate. As soon as the slur was gone he constantly asked to go home, but was constantly told he couldn’t. So he set about to prove that he could. He only had to stay in Paris for a week before he got to go home. Every day he got stronger, and more important- ly for us, every day he got wittier. After we all saw the ct scan the prognosis was some form of dementia brought on by the death of such a large portion of his brain. Ever since then we had all been silently and intently watching him. I think we all feared that we had lost the ever gentle, mischievous, and hilarious human being that was ever constant in all our lives, but we hadn’t. He puts the newspaper down on the coff ee table and looks past me out through the living room window. We sit together through most Sunday mornings. It allows my grandmother to get out of the house and go to church. She is his caregiver and more importantly his security. After a cou- ple of minutes of searching through the glass for her he turns his attention back to the newspaper on the table in front of him. I’m too caught up in searching for him to hear the punchline but he’s already taken the liberty of laughing at his own joke. My own laughter snaps me back to reality. I don’t need to hear the witticism, I found him again and that’s enough. ◆
Untitled 25 “Impact” by Rachel Hendrix
“Hips” by Kathryn Carter A Past that Still Dictates
Some say the past is the past. This may be; However, it’s my present and future. You cannot go anywhere when you’re stuck And that’s where I currently fi nd myself. Straddling two worlds, searching for balance, Sensing yesterday while feeling today.
My memory dictates my existence Anxiety controls my every move Telling me how to feel and what to do Providing me prangs of paranoia My memory dictates the way I speak It is responsible for my stutter Rooting itself in the apprehension Providing the basis for how I feel.
She is also the reason my hands shake. By prompting the pain in my fi ngertips, She limits my ability to fl ee. I do not know how to live without her, She shaped me into who I am today Her permanent imprint stinging into my brain
These are the reasons she defi nes me. This is why she will never go away.
by Dewey Briscoe
A Past that Still Dictates 29
Summer Things by Cullen Whisenhunt
Illustrated by Michaela Jestis
I grew up on Taco Casa On “mi casa es su casa” On mom and pop shops actually Run by mamas and papas
On summer things On wasp stings, chlorine, and candy rings On biking to whiffl e ball games where we’d tape over holes to go a long way on home runs On late day runs home from the pasture when it’s past your bedtime I said she said that time and those things Hoping to pull strings and stay up late for no reason On warm seasons fl anked by more and more warm seasons And legions of mosquitos and wood bees and God knows what else on His green tract Poison oak, ivy, and sumac And up at dawn’s crack to step on lawn cracks The dirt hurt, broken, this, Mother Earth’s back After heat waves, which abated and became the sleet rain and freeze rays of early November Remember, remember These days and those times in the back of my mind like a lost fi le on a fl ash drive
Remember snow white Christmas dreams of snow blind Christmas Eves But always woke to fi nd we’d been attacked by the ice queen Remember slip sliding down backroads to Papa’s home ‘cause he had propane And ‘cause telephone lines had gone cold in the ice rain Happy New Years? No thanks. Never felt new enough to make up resolutions Never losing weight. Never saying “no pain, no gain” I noticed “Happy” came fi rst, and lived that way every day
Remember showers in April that fl owered ‘naders in May Never struck my native Caddo, though, ‘cause the Natives they blessed us Plus, we’re on a hill, and tornados climb inclines about as well as I do Which is to say, they don’t But still, there was a thrill with every fl ash of lighting And every night clap of thunder left me wondering If I’d see another sun ray while my blood raced my feet to Meet my neighbors in the doorway of the cellar Or on the porch to watch the storm and pray it missed my relatives And when morning came and I saw my shining city still standing
I had to hand it to it ‘Cause by then it’d made the full cycle and Been spun round by cyclones to summer days And summer things
Summer Things 31 Beggars Carousel
Aboard Beggars Carousel, drugs: enough for God’s high. Injecting juice kills Lucy, more nobodies’ obituaries. Promise quitting, redemption sounds tough. Ugly vultures waiting, xenial young zombie
by Colton Duehning
32 Beggars Carousel An Amber Colored Lens
From well within the fi res of freedom From where the rockets and mortars are aimed Through tribulating trials of combat An inebriated hero is made
His bottle and glass provide the comfort They are a necessity of the pain Amber colored lenses serve to guide him Perhaps our dearest Helen is to blame
Through a downward spiral of depression Attempting to keep the demons at bay Judgement and drink serving as reminders While they dull but never remove the pain
When the past and present are colliding And the future begins slipping away He takes another drink for survival And another to make it through the day
When a confused conscience comes a calling Memory often times gets in the way Serving the permanence of forgetting all of the things that he will never say
by Dewey Briscoe
An Amber Colored Lens 33 “Nana’s Chair” by Stephenie Canaday I Will Always See You
I see you. Little, tiny, soft fi ngers wrapped so tightly around my pinky like you will never let me go. You see me. Glazed, teary eyes holding you snuggled against my breast, I will never let you go.
I see you. Scooting, crawling, walking, running, blowing out candles, one, two three. You see me. Exclaiming, laughing, fretting, chasing, watching the years go by, three, four, fi ve.
I see you. Going to your fi rst year of school, fearful looks and slow drudging steps. You see me. walking away slowly, smiling and waving, looking back every few feet, just to see if you come running back to me.
I see you. Going away to a friend’s house overnight, and summer camp for weeks, having fun, leaving me behind. Do you still see me? Thinking, wondering, waiting. When will you be home.
I Will Always See You 35 I see you. Sliding the keys into the ignition of our old truck, driving away, away from me. Dating, partying, always going, going Do you even see me anymore? Sleepless nights, worrying, waiting, worrying, waiting, looking out the window wanting every car to be you coming back to me, coming home.
I see you. Packing, gathering, shirts , shoes, pants, . . . . . Excited, happy, you’re fl ying away, leaving me behind, you’re going too far from me this time. I don’t think you see me anymore. Holding back tears, broken, scared, lost, You’re gone.
Do you see me? Transparent, fading, disappearing, I will always see you.
by Sharon Scott
36 I Will Always See You “EyeDea” by Tyson Hudson
The Other Side by Colton Duehning Illustration by Chance Mitchell
I found solace in the darkness of my bedroom until the tedious tick-tocking of my watch began, seemingly mocking my frustrations. I leapt from my bed to seize the watch from my nightstand, only to fi nd my focus on the white face glaring at me from my closet, its black pupils growing and shrinking in size as it focused on me. Fear took hold of my body until I heard the harmonious creaking of dead trees from outside melodize with the tick-tocking of my watch, three sharp hoots from a distant owl following the demented music fi lling my ears. It somehow soothed me, though, and took all fear that I held for the phantom face now grinning at me from my partially opened closet doors, convincing me that he was a long-lost friend and that the time had come to join him once more on the other side of my closet door.
The Other Side 39
Zedekiah’s Folly by Chance Eubanks I Illustrated by Michaela Jestis On a stark winter’s night, as dry and dead Initially startled by the use of a name that I as any other, I watched Penelope dance in the hadn’t used in as long as I hadn’t seen Penelo- moonlight. Her fi gure was a shadow, twisting pe, I couldn’t off er a response. and turning in the air with each new stream “Hello? Is anyone there?” Anxious now, wor- of smoke emanating from my lips. I had been ried. standing on this old, abandoned bridge for “Yes,” I said, regaining myself, “but Detec- at least an hour – as I usually did on Thurs- tive Zed hasn’t really been around in a days – and I was beginning to feel myself fl oat while.” up with the smoke, joining her once again. I “Oh, oh no, no, no, please tell me you’re hadn’t seen the girl alive in nearly fi ve years. joking, I need to talk to him now, my wife’s life A sudden vibration in my pocket is on the line and I don’t have anyone – any- pulled me back to the ground as quickly where left to turn. I’m running out of time!” as the cigarette falling from my startled I was a little curious now, if not a bit con- hand. Smoke and ashes. Nicotine lover. cerned. A nervous voice, a woman in danger, I return to the land of the living, a phone call in the middle of the night… Old pulling an irritated cellphone memories and familiar feelings were stirring; I from my pocket. The voice on couldn’t say no. the other end was unfamiliar. “Alright, meet me at Sally’s Pub in thirty “Hello,” the voice greeted me, minutes—can you do that?” I asked, almost asking for reassurance, “is this Detective Zed?” Zedekiah’s Folly 41 deciding to help this person without even demeanors. I didn’t have time for this. considering any details of the case. “Can you tell me what happened?” May- “Yes, yes I can, thank you!” They hung be this one would prove helpful. up almost immediately. “All I am authorized to tell you is that I looked up at the night sky, the last the victim appears to have been shot and is remnants of the smoke dissipating as the no longer alive. Sir, please step away. This light of the stars it had obscured beginning is a crime –” I was already walking in the to shine a little clearer. Penelope’s shadow opposite direction by the time the prepro- stretched and faded from sight, but she was grammed response had fi nished. on my mind then more than ever. Smoke I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I and ashes. Nicotine lover. Maybe this time it knew something was off . It felt eerily similar would be diff erent. to the events from fi ve years ago. Penelope. Smoke and ashes. Nicotine lover. How could I set out for Sally’s. I fail you again? I kept walking, not really concerned II with any destination. My mind was rac- ing and I could feel my pulse pounding in In distance, the walk to Sally’s was a every extremity. Something was wrong. The short one. The lengths my mind went to moon’s foul eye beat down upon me with keep Penelope in check, however, stretched some unknown malice, and I felt the entire for miles. There was no denying that if I world closing in. As I turned the corner, were to truly invest myself in a new case, there was a fl ash of light. Then, everything in helping a stranger fi nd someone close to was darkness. them, I would have to overcome this haze once and for all. This begged the question: III Could I? I was a bleak man, and bleak outcomes tend to be the ones my mind had The straps that bound my arms and legs come to expect. These and other thoughts to the chair were tight and heavy. Anchored plagued me as I approached the pub. The to the bottom, a ship lost at sea, dragged scene was one of disarray. down by the very waters it sailed upon. The There were armored Agents already blindfold covering my eyes was removed as patrolling the sidewalk in front of Sally’s, I began to stir, and the sight that greeted where near the neon-lit front steps I saw a me was one of impossibility. fresh body lying in a pool of black blood. A “Penelope?” lonely, broken cellphone lie smashed beside There was no response. Penelope’s face them. It appeared that I had walked too was almost completely blank, a mask framed slowly. The fog seemed to lower and thicken by golden hair and an aura of revulsion. as I approached one of the Agents. She just stared at me, her pale eyes piercing “Sir, please step away. This is a crime my own with frostbitten scorn. I broke from scene and I will not hesitate to use dead- her gaze and noticed that she was dressed in ly force if you attempt to interfere.” The the same black armor of the Agents. Agents were well-known for their friendly We were in the middle of nowhere,
42 Zedekiah’s Folly taiga stretching for miles. An endless forest. ing that she must have endured because of Everything was cold. As cold as death. She me. She motioned to my right, drawing my spoke. attention to the rotting cypress cross stand- “You left me there, Zed.” ing in the snow. The marker for my grave. It was my turn to off er silence. Smoke and ashes. Nicotine lover. IV “You left me there for Boss Carlo’s entire gang. They found me after your plan to On a stark winter’s night, as dry and bring him in – such a stupid plan – failed dead as any other, Penelope danced in and left us both exposed. Couldn’t you the moonlight. Her fi gure was a shadow, hear me screaming? Couldn’t you hear me twisting and turning in the snow with each begging for help? No, of course not, you new stream of blood pouring from my lips. ran. From them. From me. Do you know I took her marks in silence, my eyes never what it’s like to be treated like a slab of meat leaving hers. by a pack of wild dogs? To be chewed to In truth, my last case had been fi ve years the bone, buried, dug up, and chewed again ago, and it had been a failure. I had lived in and again? That is the reality I lived with a self-imposed purgatory since that day. My because you couldn’t take the blame for hope for redemption was a vanity; every- your own mistakes.” thing I now received was a consequence I She was right. After Carlo, the drug lord had avoided in cowardice. whose gang we had infi ltrated, saw through Now, blood pooled about my feet as it our ruse, Penelope was shot in the chest. We had the nameless victim Penelope had used were separated and surrounded. When the to lure me out. As the cutting ceased, she fi refi ght started I panicked and ran, think- smiled. I could hear wolves howling in the ing the entire time that Penelope was either distance, drawing near. My breathing was dead or beyond saving. If I had convinced labored, my vision was fading. Carlo, if I had protected Penelope, if I “They’re coming for you, Zed. I hope hadn’t fl ed, if I hadn’t… you last long enough to feel their teeth.” “I’ve been preparing for this moment She left me, then, as I had left her. I for fi ve years, Zed. Believe me, this is a plan could see the wolves now, the hounds of hell that won’t fail. There are no loose ends.” coming for me as Penelope faded from sight, My mind turned back to the scene at Sally’s as I faded from self. My eyes returned to the for a brief moment. “You aren’t going to cypress. run from me again. Anybody that saw me There, in silence, I read my epitaph: bring you here will just assume that I was another Agent taking some lowlife to prison, and the ones that eventually do fi nd you will ZEDEKIAH ODD know exactly what you are.” HE DID EVIL IN THE SIGHT OF THE With each word that left Penelope’s lips, I LORD. could hear the sound of a bell ringing from HE NEVER CAME BACK. some far off place. I looked directly into her ancient eyes and saw the centuries of suff er-
Zedekiah’s Folly 43 “Years Go By” by Exie Grice The Red Lady by Spencer Cooke
Her red hair fl icks and frolics in the wind. Moonlight becomes an echo in her eye. Brisk night air chills us for just a moment. The stars all seem to shimmer in the sky.
The air is damp from the churning of the river, Which tumbles from the base of a mighty dam. Frogs keep time and call out to their lovers. Somewhere across the night a car-door slams.
Why does the air still seem to taste so salty, When fresh water is the only thing in sight? Maybe it’s a memory of the ocean, that’s drowning out the memory of the night.
I look to her to see a look of passion, which electrifi es the night and too, my soul. I feel the feelings more than just a memory. I look within to fi nd some self control.
It still goes on for more than just a moment, this feeling that I felt so long ago. It didn’t end that night I felt the feeling. It seems as if that passion swells and grows.
If only for a moment of her laughter, If only for a moment of her smile, I seek to feel the feeling of that moment, I’ll hold her in my arms, and life’s worthwhile.
The Red Lady 45 A Clumsy Friend
by Dawn Smith
“A malicious enemy is better than I cannot control – they hate you without a clumsy friend.” understanding you. Not that most things – Sophie Swetchine like me have many friends to begin with; it’s hard to make friends when no one Many stories start in the middle of can actually see you. All most people the action, and many others begin with ever “see” of me is a stumble here or a some sort of premise to lead you into wrong turn there. Occasionally, there that action. This story would not be are feats of such glorious gracelessness complete if not introduced by my inter- that all who witness them instinctively esting friend and occasional enemy, who wince, whether out of empathy for the unfortunately does not have the ability poor souls or fear that soon it will be to introduce themselves because of their turn to come face-to-face with the lacking the physical reality necessary for “terror” that is I. such a task. Because of this limitation, Though it’s “Clumsy” that they call I will begin this story by extrapolating me – or, more accurately, what they call what this friend might say if they had those who display the eff ects of my visits the ability to assist in the telling of this – it seems they treat me as less of an story. Once everyone is acquainted, the annoyance and more of an enemy. I am true story will begin. merely a traveler, and do not mean to cause harm, but, because I have – well, A Fantastic Friend because I am – a supernatural force that throws off the natural balance of the The worst feeling to have is to know everyday mortal existence, I am – well, I that not only do you not have friends, cause – what humans seem to fear most: but that no one will ever want to be your straying from societal norms. Because of friend. Even worse, knowing that be- this fear, they avoid me with all of their cause you cause some minor disturbanc- ability, and torture those who are not so es simply by being present – something fortunate as to have that ability to avoid.
46 A Clumsy Friend There is one girl, though, who I may A Factual Reality almost dare to consider a friend. From the time of her fi rst fall, I could The severe Spring sun beat down tell she was diff erent. In watching her upon the black track of Guthrie High continue to trip and run-into the objects School. The 7th and 8th grade girls’ in her winding paths, I noticed that she athletics class was coming to a close and wasn’t afraid of me. In fact, she began fatigue was evident upon every girls’ adapting to me, accepting my presence face. Everyone’s feet beat the ground as a normal part of her life. Over time, in a stampede, some well-ahead of the while non-existent stumbling blocks pack and others far-behind. would purposefully knock her into an Just one more lap. Come on, Lane, unforeseen gravity check, she began you can do it. Little moments of self-en- to be able to, though never gracefully, couragement were necessary when it transition from falling to leaping towards came to making it through the agony safety and stability. When the most of running for an entire athletic period. fragile of objects would rocket out of Only one straight-away left. her grasp, she would fi nd some miracle “Hurry up, Lane! You’re holding to help her catch it. Yet she was still everyone up!” mocked with my name. Coach wasn’t very sympathetic to the Intriguingly, despite the constant frus- fact that, because of my extra weight, trations of my presence, this girl did not I was not very athletic, nor particularly treat me as her worst enemy. Whatever adept at running quickly. I did my best accidents happened because of me did to accommodate, but in doing so I’m not change her outlook upon having me sure that my appearance turned from in her life. She has been one of the clos- that of an already-awkward 13-year- est things I have had to a friend because, old girl into a bumbling baby-elephant unlike the rest of humanity, my presence desperately trying to escape from a fero- is not something she abhors. cious lion. At least that elephant would Now, I may seem cruel in that I cause have a purpose in running. my “friend” – if she can consider me Stumbling over the fi nish line, last as such – grief every time I am near, but always, I imagined Coach’s face simul- who can blame me for trying to connect taneously sagging from disappointment with someone? And besides, if we could in my eff orts and sternly stiff ening out speak with each other, we would have of annoyance at my lack of progress such funny stories to tell because of despite being under her watchful eye these experiences. It would be like old for several months. In actually looking, friends reminiscing, right? there was no expression on her face. She
A Clumsy Friend 47 wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence as I all-too-soon witnessed the warm as she told everyone to head back to the grass grow more defi ned as it neared gym and change back into our school my face. There I was, lying face-fi rst on clothes. the earth, with my friend and all those Colleen, my friend of many years, who witnessed my Great Fall stunned by came over to walk by my side. I knew we how quickly I had gone from standing to both felt relief at getting through anoth- swimming in grass. er day of torturous athleticism, but at Using the minimal strength available the same time wished to not come across in my arms, I pushed to roll myself into as so pathetic. She, too, was cursed with a sitting position. I didn’t feel any pain, being a slowed-down runner, fi nishing but something still did not seem right. second-to-last in running that day. Suddenly, despite the fog settling in my We talked as we began our walk of a mind, I became aware that I had no fairly short distance to the gym. I’m sure feeling in my right leg. Though my left that the conversation was full of sayings leg seemed to be fi ne, it was as if I had like “That was pretty awful, right” and no right leg at all. “I hope we don’t have a lot of home- Finally breaking my gaze from my work,” and other trivial topics of con- legs, I looked up to see a mass of people cern of a 7th-grader. To me, the conver- surrounding me. The girls who had wit- sation was nothing special to remember. nessed the fall appeared to be confused What I do remember, though… and concerned. A plethora of questions My balance was suddenly gone as fl ew out of their mouths all at once. my right foot was precariously perched “What happened?” between the sidewalk and the few inches “Are you okay?” of a drop to the fresh, but not partic- “Did you faint?” ularly cushiony, grass. My mind’s eye “Do you need help?” slowed my surroundings to one-tenth of “Why are you still on the ground?” their normal speed. My thoughts raced That’s when I noticed Coach had as I tried to fi nd a solution to best pre- joined the throng. While the others were vent myself from falling. I knew the fall concerned for my well-being, Coach would not be particularly painful, but was concerned as to why I was holding if I could avoid falling, I most certainly everyone up by not standing. would. “Can you stand up?” My body began to react: stick out I evaluated my situation. Without be- my left foot towards the grass to catch ing able to feel my leg, I was not partic- myself, twist my legs into a position ularly confi dent that standing would be better able to stabilize my tumbling the best decision for the moment. fi gure, use my right foot to pull myself “I’m not sure that I can…” up… All of these actions were in vain “Try.” Again, Coach was unsympa-
48 A Clumsy Friend thetic to the fact that my abilities may My tibia had been fractured in my spill not be up to her standards. Slowly, I off of the sidewalk over seven weeks rolled back over to my stomach and bent prior, and my leg was fi nally ready to be my left leg to a position to help balance exposed to fresh air again. While some- and push myself up as I used what little times I hate being clumsy, really there arm strength I had to raise my frame. are some benefi ts that come from it: I My right leg, still a phantom that I dared was allowed to take my time in getting not trust to fully support me, hovered as to my classes, I had some great friends I rose to about a quarter of my normal that helped me along when I didn’t have height. Unable to get up any farther the walking-cast, but, best of all, I was without the support of another leg, I set able to skip athletics. Sometimes it can the leg I could not feel to where it would feel like clumsiness is my best attribute, best be able to assist in lifting me up. despite the fact that it normally results in The weight of my body shifting from pain and some ridicule. my arms to my legs, a great quaking As I exited the hospital and climbed began to take over my whole being. As into the passenger seat of my mom’s car, soon as there was no more support from though I was thrilled to be able to walk my arms, I had collapsed to the grass freely again, one thought pervaded my again. Some feeling returned to my leg mind: I have gym class tomorrow. ◆ at that point, but it was shrouded in a red-heat that only comes from deadened pain that you know will soon become molten. Coach, visibly disappointed in my ef- forts, told the other girls, except for Col- leen, to head for the gym. I felt hands grasp both of my upper arms as they lifted me to a standing position. Human crutches, they guided me back towards the gym where I would await for my fate to become evident.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I stepped out of the doctor’s offi ce, marveling at just how heavy my walk- ing-cast had been and how I was able to now walk without such rigid support.
A Clumsy Friend 49 “Golden” by Stephenie Canaday
“Waiting on Time” by Austin Duval The First Day of School
The fi rst day of school I walk through doors I am standing on the edge of a ravine Everything I have worked for has gotten me to this place A world of possibility… opportunity Awaits me on the other side The only way across is to build a bridge Only I can build my bridge
I walk through doors I sit in the front row I talk to the professor I talk to classmates I listen Study The fi rst stones have been laid But they must stay together
I walk through doors I enter as one person I expect to leave another Professors know my name My struggles My dreams They take time for me They give my bridge mortar
I walk through doors From class, to offi ces, to work, to study
The First Day of School 53 Repeat Always repeat I work, work, work So my stones are stronger So my bridge is built faster So my bridge will stand the test of time
The fi rst day of school I walk through doors Many doors at Southeastern are open Many doors specialize in bridge building You just have to know how to walk through a door So Southeastern can help you Walk through the doors on the far side Of your fi nished bridge
The last day of school I will cross the bridge
by Adeline Patterson
54 The First Day of School 13 Ways of Looking at Clouds by Tayte Weatherly I Dark hands slowly choke the sun VIII Then one swirls madly towards the earth. Obnoxious, man-made Scars on the atmosphere. II Delicate angels dance with long strides IX Left behind—curved with art in mind. The manifestation of a train’s temper. Bursting like an oil gusher. III A desert in the sky. X A million ripples in white. Ghosts fl eeing homes through the roof With little adieu. IV Nuclear blast frozen still. XI Perfectly preserved like a snapshot. Warm temptress in the woods Floating in mesmerizing light V Then she burns my eyes. A dove Resting all alone. XII A stream of jellyfi sh VI Escaping my grandpa’s mouth. Sponges of color. Chameleons with time. XIII Lofty ideas. VII Impossibilities. Lover of mountain tops And the cold morning’s ground.
Illustrated by Darija Catipovic Thirteen Ways of Looking at Clouds 55 Chronos by Stephanie Clauson Illustrated by Michaela Jestis
His death has rung a bell in me. Time is ended. Fear is nothing now. A sleeping serpent stirs, shakes off its scales, and becomes a king.
Softly, I circle the world that was. Godless, I rule myself. Boldly, I break the ibis shell. Guideless, I become my way.
I take his breath into my lungs and exhale a universe renewed.
56
Big, Sha-Bang! Adventure by Rachel Corson
Olivia stood outside, staring at her next She reached into her backpack and fi shed big adventure. It was possibly her biggest out a fl ashlight. With her trusty fl ashlight adventure yet. The Owings Mills Mall in in her hand, and an abandoned mall to Maryland was closed, but that did not stop explore, a new wave of adrenaline washed Olivia from entering the abandoned mall on over her. She walked through the food court a Saturday afternoon. toward the rest of the mall. Some of the She had just had a fi ght with her best chairs in the food court were pushed out, friend, Paul. Olivia had wanted to go on this almost as if the person sitting there had just adventure. In a few months she was going gotten up to use the bathroom, and never away to college, and she wanted a cool story returned. to tell everyone when she went away; she She walked to the end of the food court wanted people to remember her, and in her and stood in the real entrance to the mall. mind, this was the way to do it. It was going The food court was on the second fl oor, and to be her “Big, Sha-bang! Adventure,” and her goal was to wander the whole mall. She she was ready to get started. She had sug- decided to wander the fi rst fl oor before the gested to Paul that they break in to the mall second that way she could leave the way she together, so they could take it with them came in, and she wouldn’t miss anything. to the next phase of their lives. Paul was She walked slowly down the escalator, which against the idea. Whatever, thought Olivia was now just a set of unmovable stairs. She as she remembered their fi ght, I don’t need heard her fi rst steps echo throughout the him to have an adventure. mall as she walked down the stairs. Thump. Olivia felt a rush of adrenaline as she Thump. Thump. Her heavy boots helped to walked up to the locked door. As she drown out the other sounds of the aban- reached for the door, ready to unlock it with doned mall. her brand new lock picking kit, it moved The fl oor just above her on the escalator inward ever so slightly. She jumped back, made a loud creak, causing Olivia to swivel alarmed. She opened the door, and peered her head, wondering what could possibly inside. She saw a dark, empty food court. have made that noise. She pointed her fl ash-
58 Big, Sha-bang! Adventure light in the direction of the creak, but saw about in therapy,” Olivia was now address- nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she ing the dead body. saw a shadow on the escalators. She quickly Olivia, couldn’t tell what was missing, and shot the light at the shadow and suddenly to be honest she didn’t really care. She had everything made sense. other things on her mind. The dead, grue- “What’s a cat doing in an abandoned some body didn’t seem to bother her, but mall?” Olivia asked no one in particular. what did bother her is that she would have The cat had black, matted fur, and was to call the police and report it. She took out deathly skinny. She followed it quickly down her phone and started dialing 9-1-but she the rest of the escalators and noticed it go stopped. Instead she dialed another number. straight towards the massage chairs to the right of the escalators. Paul was having a normal evening at “I wonder if they still work,” Olivia home when his phone rang; it was Olivia. thought out loud. She walked around to He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her right where the cat was on one of the chairs. She now. She had this crazy idea that they need- shone her fl ashlight at the cat, and found ed adventure, and that the best way to do that it was sitting on a person. Olivia gave that would be to break into an abandoned a little yelp, and after the initial shock she mall. However, once Olivia got her mind set said, “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else on something, she did it, and he was always was in here. You’re not the police, right? I the one to apologize after a fi ght. Maybe mean, you won’t arrest me?” this time she was the one apologizing, and The still person said nothing. Puzzled, that was the reason for her call. It was un- she tried again, “Hello? You’re not going likely, but he answered it anyway. to arrest me…or hurt me are you?” Still no “Paul!” Olivia sounded excited and response. scared, “You will never guess what I found Realizing that something wasn’t quite at the mall!” right, Olivia walked up to the person to get “You went to the mall without me?” Paul a closer look. He was a man, probably about was disappointed. Normally she waits to do 5’10, and skinny, with dirty blonde hair. these crazy things until she has convinced “You’re kind of cute,” Olivia remarked, him. Or she tells him when she’s going so he before she took the fl ashlight off of his face, can be lookout, even if he refuses to actually and examined the rest of his body. The break in. white, button up shirt that he was wearing “Of course I did, but that’s not the was covered in blood. There was a gaping point,” Olivia sounded exasperated, “Paul. I hole in his chest where he had been stabbed, found a dead body.” and one of his organs had been taken from “You found a dead body,” Paul said fl atly. his body. The cat was eating him. Olivia She had to be joking. didn’t know how to react when seeing a “Yes! I thought it was weird when I got mangy cat eat a dead body, but she probably here that the doors were unlocked, but now should have been more disgusted than she I guess I know why. But Paul, this body was. is like so gross, you would love it, you did “I guess that’s something I’ll have to talk so well in anatomy and I think one of his
Big, Sha-bang! Adventure 59 organs is missing and maybe you could she was looking for: beef jerky. She opened tell me which one it is. Oh my god, Paul, the package and pulled out a piece before there’s so much blood. I didn’t even realize attempting to remove the cat from the body. that the human body contained so much She slowly approached the cat and waved blood…” Paul held his phone away from his the jerky in front of its face while grabbing ear and just stared at it incredulously. Olivia it and pulling it away from the body. It kept talking about the body while Paul just resisted at fi rst, but eventually decided that stared. This is why she shouldn’t go to these the jerky and the pets that Olivia was giving places alone. Paul sighed deeply and then it were better than the fresh meat. put the phone back to his ear; he thought “You better not have fl eas,” Olivia told he heard something about a cat, but he was it. She sat down on the ground while she probably imagining it. He put the phone continued to pet the cat, and waited for the back to his ear police and Paul to show up. Eventually, she “Olivia. Call the police, I’m on my way.” heard movement above her. That must be “I don’t want to call the police,” Olivia the police, thought Olivia. She expected sounded scared at the thought, “I broke to hear multiple set of footsteps, but only in, what if I get in trouble, I could lose my heard a quick thump, thump, thump of one scholarship!” person racing down the escalators. “Olivia,” Paul said, patiently. “I’ll be Olivia was not usually a very jumpy there soon. I will help you with that, but person, but she wanted to be sure it wasn’t the police need to know about this man. the murderer coming back, so she quickly He’s dead, and from the sound of it, he was swung her fl ashlight toward the newest visi- probably murdered. Do you want to let a tor. It was Paul. murderer go free because you’re scared of “Hey,” Paul exclaimed, “get that out of what the police will do when they learn you my face before I go blind.” trespassed?” “Sorry,” Olivia replied. “You must have “You’re right,” Olivia said, “Okay. I’ll sped through traffi c to beat the police here.” call the police, but please hurry. I don’t want “Well, I told you that I would help you to deal with this whole thing on my own.” take care of things. Also I thought I was “I’ll be there in fi fteen minutes,” Paul hearing things when you mentioned a cat.” had already gone to his car, started it, and “Nope. Not hearing things. The cat is he was pulling out of his driveway when he what led me to the body. It started eating hung up the phone. it,” Olivia said nonchalantly. “Eating it! Olivia! Why are you holding Olivia hung up the phone. She had just it then! It eats dead people! Also it looks like told the police where she was and what she it’s been on the streets for years. Olivia, you found. Despite some nerves about getting need to put the cat down now,” Paul was in trouble for trespassing, she was relatively adamant. calm. She thought it would probably be “Absolutely not,” Olivia said. “This cat is best to get the cat to stop eating the body, nothing but a sweetheart. And besides, if I because that was evidence, after all. She put it down then it will go back to eating the searched her backpack until she found what evidence. Plus I’m thinking of adopting this
60 Big, Sha-bang! Adventure little guy. He’s so sweet.” doned buildings.” “You’re kidding.” Olivia could have kissed him, but just this “Nope. If the police will let me, I mean. once, she controlled the impulse. “My other He does have evidence in his digestive sys- question is about the cat.” tem. But he really is very sweet. I wouldn’t “What about the cat?” The other offi cer be able to leave him out on the streets.” asked, looking at the cat with that same look “Hopefully the police say no,” Paul said, of disgust and curiousness that had been on while glaring at the cat out of the corner of Paul’s face before. his eye. “She wants to know if she can keep it,” “How can you be so cruel about this Paul said before Olivia could. “She’s grown poor, innocent creature?” Olivia was now attached to it, and she wants to give it a furious. Her best friend couldn’t understand good home.” that for once, she was trying to do the right “After we collect all of the evidence from thing, instead of the wild and crazy thing. it, I see absolutely no reason why you can’t Paul had just opened his mouth, ready with take it home,” the offi cer said, addressing his rebuttal, when they heard two pairs this to Olivia. of footsteps above them. The police had Olivia beamed at Paul; her best friend al- arrived. ways comes through for her. Even when he The two police men were young. Olivia doesn’t understand really why. This is why would have guessed they were somewhere they became friends in the fi rst place. in their early twenties. They were clearly the “You have the number to reach me when rookies they sent out on jobs like this when I can pick up the cat?” Olivia asked the they didn’t believe the report that came in. offi cer. One look at their face, and Olivia knew that “Yes we do, ma’am,” he responded. they weren’t really expecting a dead body “Great,” she said, “Cause I’m taking my here, especially one so gruesome. They took best friend out for some ice cream.” Olivia’s statement, as well as Paul’s although Olivia linked arms with Paul, and togeth- he didn’t show up until later. er, they walked up the broken down escala- “I have two questions,” Olivia asked tors and left the mall. ◆ before she left with Paul. “Yes, ma’am?” one of the police offi cers responded. “Will I get in trouble for breaking and entering? Cause if I get arrested, I could lose my college scholarship.” Olivia tried to say nonchalantly, but there was a defi nite hint of panic in her expression. “I think under the circumstances,” the same police offi cer responded, looking over at the body, “we’ll let you off with a warn- ing. Just don’t break into any more aban-
Big, Sha-bang! Adventure 61
Finding
Her by ChanceVoice Eubanks Illustrated by Michaela Jestis Monica was never a confi dent girl. She semester, Monica would be so afraid of was embarrassed about her weight, didn’t performing that she didn’t even show up to have many real friends, and wasn’t that the choir’s fi nal concert of the school year. good at talking to people. When she fi rst Monica was never a confi dent girl. joined choir in middle school, it was more to Her resolve shook by anxiety, Monica avoid being in P.E. than because she actually didn’t return to choir when she started high wanted to sing anything. The director said school. There were more classes that she she was talented though, and there were could choose to take in high school; easi- fewer people in choir than the other classes er paths to obscurity and surefi re ways to she would have had to take, so it seemed avoid the people she let down. Obscurity like a decent match, and for the most part wouldn’t have much to do with her for very it was. Until it was time to sing in front of long, though. The same choir director from an audience, that is. Monica was never a middle school, Mr. Jackson, just happened confi dent girl. to also be in charge of the music program It wasn’t unexpected when, new to the at the high school, and for reasons unknown world of performing music, Monica shrank to Monica, he still wanted her to be a part from exposing such a vulnerable part of her of the choir. It took a lot of convincing, but psyche in front of large groups of people. after only one semester away from music, She couldn’t even sing in front of her family, Monica found herself pulled right back in. how could she sing in front of complete She had no idea how things could be diff er- strangers? In eighth grade, her very fi rst ent, but she hoped they would be. Monica year of choir, she backed out of a compe- was never a confi dent girl. tition at the last second because she was In the high school choir, Monica met too nervous to go, feigning illness to vali- people older than her that tried showing her date her absence from something she had how to get over her performance anxiety worked weeks to be ready for. The following and how to be a better singer. They were
Finding Her Voice 63 good examples, kind and talented, and more wisdom and experience of Mr. Jackson, but than willing to support her despite her fl aws he was a friend just as much as a teacher. and struggles. Mr. Jackson introduced her During this time, Monica would also meet to more complicated music, and inspired many new friends that would stay with her to try going to competitions again. It her throughout the rest of her high school wouldn’t take long for her to become com- years and even into college. There was fi rm fortable with this group of people, though ground to stand on, to build on. Monica was she wouldn’t be comfortable with herself for never a confi dent girl. a long time. Monica was never a confi dent Time passed and Monica found herself an girl. upperclassman and leader in the choir. She Halfway through high school Monica helped younger students to learn things that had to move, and all the progress she had were once taught to her by older students. made appeared to be in vain. The guid- The realization of this had a tremendously ance of her Mr. Jackson was no longer a positive impact on Monica’s anxiety. In her driving factor in senior year, she her life, and the decided that she new friends she “Although she was going to do had made were whatever she too far away for could to enter a her to continue wasn’t aware of it, competition and interacting with. win. Any positive So much change there was a change result would in- all at once, all of spire the younger which seemed members of the to be negative. happening in her” choir even more, Unsure of how and Monica felt well she could adjust to a new path this late like she had enough experience to overcome in her school life, Monica decided to contin- herself now. Monica was never a confi dent ue with music. In her mind, she didn’t have girl. much of a choice, and maybe the path that The fi rst round of the competition was had previously let her make friends and feel a blur. Her anxiety, long dormant, resur- good about herself would reemerge from faced and threatened to stop her dead in her the depths of uncertainty. Monica was never tracks, but Mr. Lee was with her every step a confi dent girl. of the way. Her friends, too, were there for A few weeks into her junior year of high her as they also tried to advance through school, and her fi rst time in a school system to the next round. Some of them actually not located in her home town, and things managed to place, making high level chairs miraculously began to improve again. Mon- and receiving medals. Monica made third ica met Mr. Lee, the choir director at her chair out of fi fty other singers in her divi- new school. He was a young teacher, fresh sion, more than enough to advance to the out of college, a new face in a new envi- fi nals. After that day, Monica would have ronment, just like Monica. He lacked the a full month to prepare for the fi nal round,
64 Finding Her Voice which would take place at the state capital. that good at talking to people. When she Monica was never a confi dent girl. was in middle school, she began a journey Advancing to the fi nal round of a sing- in music that would allow all of these things ing competition in the senior year of high to fade away, revealing a strong young wom- school wasn’t an easy thing to do. Monica an, sure of her abilities and able to inspire knew that, and for once she was looking those around her. Monica decided to go to forward to going to a competition. Although college to become a musician. Monica was she wasn’t aware of it, there was a change never a confi dent girl until she decided to happening in her, one that would come to sing. She still does, to this day. defi ne who she was for the rest of her life. ◆ Monica was never a confi dent girl. The morning of the fi nal round, Monica took a long look at herself in the mirror. For the fi rst time in her life, she didn’t see a so- cially awkward, overweight girl without any friends staring back at her. She saw a beauti- ful, talented girl, ready to take on the world and ready to prove herself. And today she would. Monica was never a confi dent girl. When Monica sang that day, the judges fell in love with her voice. She had never given a more brilliant performance in her fi ve years of singing. A voice emerged that day that sang of an emotional confl ict deep within her soul, a gap between self and stabili- ty that had fi nally been bridged. Monica received a fi rst place medal for her song. The fi rst thing she did when she received her medal was hug Mr. Lee and all of her friends. Finally, she had found her place and found her voice. No, Monica was never a confi dent girl. She used to be embarrassed about her weight, didn’t have many real friends, and wasn’t
Finding Her Voice 65
by Cullen Whisenhunt Illustrated by Sam Case
I learned to rely on the color orange, like streetlights and lampshine, for security, even when dappled with shadows. Orange can warm an empty room, and keep the dark at bay. At the very least, it does not fear it. It is as comfortable there as on linen bedsheets, snoring peacefully. It’s the Color of the Hearth, you know (for Nitro)
For Nitro 77 “Copious Bounty” by Amanda Henslee
The Dove and the Wren by Dawn Smith Illustrated by William DeShazo
He knocked on the door of his own house. Thunk… thunk… Each knock was weighted with the disappointment of a man weary with his own existence. It had only been a few hours, but to him it felt like days since he had last opened the door to his sanctuary. He rested his hand on the door, wishing he had his key and praying – though without much conviction – that, somehow, he would be able to enter despite the late hour of the night and the likely depth of his sister’s slumber. “Wretched rain is ruining my good coat,” he mumbled to himself as thunder crashed around him and a lone Volvo splashed water his way in its rush down the street. He wished for the hundredth time – or was it the millionth? – that he had a decent awning above his door rather than the tattered rags he saw above him that had scarce been changed since he and his father hung them over 40 years ago. “I’ll catch my death one of these days. A man of 47 years should not have to worry about death from a chill… Now, where are my bloody keys?” Click. The door had begun to shift away from his hand with the deep growl of old hinges in desperate need of oiling. He saw the face of a woman peer through the small crack between the frame and the door. She hadn’t removed the door-chain yet. “Caryn... It’s me… Collin. I’m back now. You can open the door.” The woman, Caryn, ob- served the man standing outside her door, this arrangement would help solve their soaking wet and appearing more unstable diff erences. than usual. She knew Collin Black was not As small children, the siblings had been a man to be kept waiting, but she was hesi- inseparable despite the 4-year age diff er- tant to let him in. Caryn seemed to be deep ence between them. But, as they matured, in thought as her hand moved mindlessly they grew their separate ways. Collin, a around the ornate designs on the inside of rebel infl uenced by his friendships; Caryn, the door, tracing each artistic swirl. a natural nurturer, though reluctant to care “Caryn… Please… I know I didn’t leave for her own brother after constantly getting on good terms, but it’s raining, and I am him out of trouble. One day, Collin’s utterly freezing. You wouldn’t want me to mistakes had grown to be too much for his catch cold, now, would you? Of course immediate family, so he was sent away to not… Just let me in, and we can forget Ireland to live with his grandparents for a about it.” Collin attempted a passé laugh summer in hopes that a new place would for good measure, but what fell out of his straighten him out. Two more years of this mouth was more of a cry of desperation. arrangement passed after the grandparents The door, grayed by years of exposure to praised his behavioral improvements, say- industrial Ohioan smog, still did not budge, ing that the “Irish air was doing his attitude but Caryn’s eyes appeared to have soft- some good” and giving hope of Collin re- ened some in Collin’s mind. “Can’t you let turning as an upstanding 17-year-old man. your poor older brother back in the house, Unfortunately, by the time of his return, all Ryn?” his stay had gained him was a habit of mut- Her expression clearly showed she did not tering like a crazy old Irishman to himself think her brother to be “poor” in the slight- and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Collin, est. “… Alright, but don’t call me ‘Ryn’ in one of his manic episodes soon after his again. You know I hate that, and I am far return, severed ties with his family and was too old for nicknames.” Caryn unlatched not heard from again until the reading of the chain and slowly widened the portal be- the will. tween her “safe place” and the harsh reality Both of the children caring deeply about outside of her home. their childhood home, they had gladly Her thoughts turned to how only three accepted the charge given to them by their years ago it had been “their” home. To her, parents, but that did not mean either one it was just yesterday that her parents had was particularly thrilled by the other’s passed away in that terrible accident and presence in the house. At fi rst the plan was she was notifi ed that they had willed the switching off ownership each year – fi rst family home to their “two precious birds Caryn, then Collin, then Caryn again – but – Collin and Caryn” on the condition that six months into Caryn’s second turn Collin they both shared it. Their Irish saint of a took a turn for the worst emotionally and mother had been concerned that her little was fi red from the steel factory because of dove (Collin) and wren (Caryn) were not as his growing attitude and increased care- close as she would have liked, and hoped lessness. He needed a place to stay until he
The Dove and the Wren 81 got back on his feet, so for the past three “As I was saying, a curious man was months he had become a dependent of following me. Because I was curious about his sister, a waitress at a local bar who had this curious man, I led him to an alley, so little funds to care for herself, let alone her we could… talk, if you would, about why brother. the bloke was following me. He wasn’t Collin slid inside and removed his coat. particularly forthcoming, Sis, despite my “I’m going to start a fi re. Care to join me?” persuasions.” Collin began to look a bit He hated being alone. As Caryn method- troubled at this point. “I didn’t much like ically closed and latched the door, she him, but I didn’t mean to hurt him so replied, “Sure. Then you can explain what bad… He had been fi ghting back, young happened while you were gone. It’s not like fella he was… But then he wasn’t getting I can go back to sleep now, anyways. I’ll up anymore…” His mind appeared to make us some tea.” become foggy as he continued to tell his After a few moments the fi re ignited in story. “I must have lost my house key when the rustic fi replace built by their parents I went to put the lad – he was a heavy one ages ago. Collin stared into the twisting – in a ‘safe place.’ Needed a drink after fl ames and recalled the events of the night. that, so I continued on my way to the bar… With Caryn just a room over, he decided to Maybe I had too many. I think it’s starting begin his story. to get to me now…” As his vision began to “It all started with our usual fi ght about fade, Collin thought he saw a smile creep who would keep the house, since we both upon his sister’s face. know staying here together just isn’t an “No, dove, I believe that would be the option anymore. After you insulted me…” poison.” He paused, listening for any sign of protest ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ against his statement. “… I needed to go Caryn Black sat comfortably on her take a walk and see some friendly faces. I sofa, skimming through the local Sunday took the long way to the bar, hoping to cool paper. A short article about a body of a down some before meeting with my friends, young man found behind a dumpster in but on my way there I noticed there was an alley only about a mile away from her someone following me.” As was his perfor- home caught her eye. “Anyone who has any mance style, he changed to a sinister tone. information that may help identify this man “… Not too closely – he wasn’t an amateur should call the local authorities…” Saying – but I could tell. He was – thank you for the words aloud sent a shiver down her the tea, Sister – a curious man.” spine. Caryn considered calling the police Caryn lowered herself into a seat across for a moment, wishing she could provide from her brother, her head tilted to the some peace to the family of the boy she right in her standard way of listening to had hired to ensure (“by whatever means stories. She sipped carefully at her hot tea necessary”) her brother wouldn’t continue and waited for him to continue. Collin took to be a nuisance in her life, but she didn’t a few gulps, ignoring the burning in his even know the boy’s name. Even so, she throat from the warmth of the tea. couldn’t risk telling the police how she
82 The Dove and the Wren knew him, what she knew about his death, and especially where his killer was now. She folded up the newspaper and let her- self sink deeper into the sofa. Despite feel- ing regret about her unnamed accomplice and his failure, she felt deep satisfaction in knowing that she no longer was bound to care for her brother. Freedom had never felt quite as at home with her as it was then. ◆
The Dove and the Wren 83