Southern Voices Southern 1100 College MUW-1627 Street, Columbus, Mississippi 39701 Southern Voices Southern Isavailable Read To

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uuu 2014 Southern Voices • Volume XXVI • Spring, 2014 Table of Contents Staff Judges Christina Legradi (Hattiesburg) “The only way to enter a word to describe. It is intangible, a passion, a way of thought, a new universe while still living is by reading a book,” ChristinaWriting way to live—it is a mesmerizing ideal.” says. She lives by the assertion, “The jungle is dark but full Editor Art Judges Poetry Judge of diamonds,” from DeathPoetry of a Salesman. Her favorite book is Liyah Smith (Meridian) statesEssays that art is “what I’m all about Joseph Messer Ms. Patti Johnson from Columbus, Dr. Kendall Dunkelberg is Little Women. She plans to study pre-dentistry at UAB and also besides food.” If she could be born in another decade, Liyah Mississippi, is an artist working in Professor of English and Director Jenato follow Dees her passion for photography. wouldNick choose Elder the 1970s. She strives to “pray for the best while preparing for the worst.” Her favorite book is The Hobbit, and Art Editor La Chica Nueva ...... 23 Mimi’s Museum ...... 32 watercolor, oils, sculpture, ceramics, of Creative Writing at Mississippi Quinn Massengill (Hickory Flat) “Reading teaches us about she finds a hero in her little sister. Adina Harri and mixed media. She is a current University for Women. He is Elisethe world. Cannon Writing teaches us about ourselves,” Quinn says. Adina Harri member of Rosenzweig Art Center’s the author of Time Capsules The best book he has ever read is The City of Lost Souls by Stephanie Smith (Columbus) lives by the words, “If at first The Black Widow ...... 27 Roots ...... 18 Assistant Editors Gallery 2 and has over forty years of (Texas Review Press, 2009), Cassandra Clare. He shapes his life by a passage from Alice you don’t succeed, try, try again.” If she could meet anyone, she Elise Cannon experience in studio art. Landscapes and Architectures in WonderlandMother’s :Memories “‘This is Impossible,’ ...... said . . Alice. . . . ‘Only. if you37 wouldRachel choose Jones her grandfather, who passed away before she was Quinn Massengill (Florida Literary Foundation Press, believe it is,’ replied the Mad Hatter.” born. Her favorite book is The Hollow Kingdom, and she plans Nick Elder to devoteThe herBest life Advice to children Ever as . a .pediatrician...... 13 2001), and Hercules, Richelieu, Assistant Art Editor Ms. Rebecca McGavock is an StearmanDriving McCalister in August (Corinth) . . . . Stearman. . . . . lives . . .by . the words,7 A Pariah’s Travelogue ...... 36 Nick Elder Education VISTA member working and Nostradamus: Translations “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not Olivia Spires (Hernando) believes that “by expressing your- with the Columbus Arts Council. of Poems by Paul Snoek (Green Nikkifail?” His Gary favorite book is The Giver. About creativity, he says, self,Quinn you get Massengill to know yourself.” Her defining quotation advises Photographer A member of the Mississippi State Integer Press, 2000). “PsychologistsListen, Look, say thatFeel art . helps . . . best . . with . . .depression.” . . . . He40 to “loveThe all, Sweet trust Sounda few, do of harmSouthern to none.” Syllables Authors . Elizabeth. . . 29 Nick Elder Committee of the National Museum plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist. Gilbert and Valentine Michael Smith inspire Olivia. If she could have a superpower, hers would be teleportation. of Women in the Arts, she has Short Story Judge Adina Harri Joseph Messer Staff Members MichaelGrandma’s McDonald Hands (Lucedale) . . . .“Creativity . . . . . is. .the . .courage 15to It’s Full of Stars ...... 44 exhibited in multiple galleries in Mrs. Jane Nickerson is the author express yourself,” Michael says. His favorite book is Oliver Chase Velotas (Meridian) Chase lives by Dr. Seuss’s admoni- Jena Dees Mississippi since her early teens. of Strands of Bronze and Gold TwistTreasure by Charles Hunting Dickens. . He . .lives . . by . .Bill . .Cosby’s . . . . words, 46“In tion, “BeLife who in Space you are . and . . say. . what . . .you . . feel, . . because. . . those 8 Robyn Galvan (2013) and The Mirk and Midnight order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” He Quenton Gilmore Rachelyour fear of Jones failure. Michael plans to major in neurology and believesSabrina that Moorecreativity is the “truest form of communication,” Essay Judge Hour (2014), both Young Adult Erin Graves minorI Rememberin journalism. Sunday ...... 5 and isAgainst inspired the by theCurrent humility . found. . . .in . Bill . . Gates’ . . . life.. If 6 Dr. Kelly Marsh is an Associate books published by Knopf. Mrs. Tylicia Grove Hail Mary ...... 9 he had a superpower, he would want to understand and speak Professor of English at Mississippi Nickerson knows MSMS well; Michael McMillan (Long Beach) gains his inspiration from anyBrendan language. Ryan His favorite book is Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Kristin Howitt State University where she four of her children are MSMS MotherAunt Teresa, . . . who . . states,. . . .“Life . . is. .a dream,. . . . realize . it.” If 17 GalaxyPizza. and Hoagies ...... 14 Tristan Johnston he could be born in another decade, it would be the 1940s. teaches courses on the twentieth- graduates: James (’98), Bethany Neighbor ...... 33 Rachel Jones Michael wishes to have the superpower to “duplicate” himself. CandaceIndia Yarborough Wheeler (Carrollton) Candace says that art “soothes century British and Irish novel, (’03 ), Phillip (’05), and Stella (’08). Monica Kala He plans to become a chief strategic officer. the soul.”The JokesterHer most influential ...... artist . . is. .Thomas . . . .Kinkade, . and41 twentieth-century Irish literature, Quinn Massengill Ashytyn McAdams if she could meet anyone, it would be the English poet John contemporary literature, women’s JosephLost Messer Girl (Carriere). . . . . “To. . .write, . . .you . . must . . . first have the20 Milton. Her favorite book is A Great and Terrible Beauty, and Michael McDonald literature, literature and film, courage to be vulnerable,” Joseph says. His favorite book is A she finds a hero in her sister Lydia. Sabrina Moore Michael McDonald and others. Faculty Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. Short Stories Madhav Nallani He livesCenter by David Stage Foster . . . Wallace’s . . . . . assertion . . . . .that . . “The39 really Hayley White (Taylorsville) Hayley strives to paint a living important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness imageDesiree of Audrey Carpenter Hepburn’s words, “I believe in pink . . . I Victoria Norton Joseph Messer Brendan Ryan Photography Judge Art Contest Faculty and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people believeVampires in overdressing ...... I believe. . . . that . . happy . . . girls. are the38 Ms. Stacy Clark serves as editor of and toA sacrificeSkin of Ice for them . . . over . . and. . over. . .in . myriad . . . . petty, unsexy25 prettiest girls . . . I believe in miracles.” Hayley credits her Delisia Wicks Coordinator Jena Dees Catfish Alley, a quarterly magazine ways every day.” Joseph plans to attend Deep Springs College parents as her heroes for their unwavering support of her India Yarborough Angie Jones forSabrina two years Moore and complete his studies in English literature at educationalThe Real endeavors, Reason which . . . she . .plans . . .to . continue . . . . by majoring47 Chandra Yarlagadda published in Columbus, Mississippi, eitherClock Stanford . . University ...... or . Oxford . . . .University...... 20 in biochemistry. that is “a gathering place for the Faculty Advisor Nick Elder Cover Art words and images that paint an SabrinaBrendan Moore Ryan (Starkville) Sabrina lives by the belief, AbigailLily Wippel . . . (Hernando) ...... finds . . .inspiration . . . . . in. Jane Austen’s34 Kay Burnside authentic, compelling portrait of life Emma Richardson “EverythingKings of happens the Playground for a reason.” . . She . . would . . . love. . . to meet12 assertion, “Our scars let us know that our past is for real.” Serious Soul in today’s South.” Queen Elizabeth I. Her favorite book is Pride and Prejudice. HerTylicia hero is Groveher father, who showed her that “success could be Chase Velotas Her dad is her hero because he’s the kind of person she wants achievedTeachers’ through Lounge hard work . and. . .determination.” ...... Abigail . plans16 to be when she grows up. She plans to major in biomedical to work for the FBI as a forensic anthropologist. Cold Stare engineering. Mary Frances Holland Candace Wheeler IndiaBoys Yarborough . . . . .(Columbus) ...... lives . . by . .words . . . from Harper10 Window 2014 Brendan Ryan (Diamondhead) “If you don’t have an idea, take Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird: “You never really understand a Hayley White a shower,” Brendan says. He lives by Yoko Ono’s words—made personConor until Hultman you consider things from his point of view . . . Eye of the Tiger famous by John Lennon—that “A dream you dream alone is until youAs Lonesome climb inside as his the skin Moon and .walk . . around. . . . in . it.”. . If born30 Abigail Wippel only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.” His in another decade, India would like to have been a child of the favorite book is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. 60’sRachel because Jones she feels as if “there was so much to fight for.” Eyes of Jade India Lastaspires Resorts to become . . .a .journalist...... 42 Cover Design Vikram Sachdeva (Jackson) The defining quotation in Vik’s life is “So it goes.” If he had a superpower, he would want to Brendan Ryan Nick Elder control the subconscious. “Creativity,” he says, “is not a simple Ms . April Comes to Visit ...... 3 Adina Harri 3

Cover.indd 2 5/21/14 8:23 AM Artwork Ms. April Comes to Visit Brendan Ryan Drawing Sculpture First Place—Short Story Competition Shreya Gunapati Ross Berry The Chris Read Award for Fiction Sharpie ...... 4 Two-Face Vase ...... 20 Jack White ...... 37 Lauren Chatelain n retrospect, we should have Rudy had done. She stormed into Lord? Would you lie to him?” Conor Hultman Animal Spirit Mask ...... 28 Ilistened to Momma. She was the dining room looking for the “Of course not, Momma,” PKD ...... 7 Camille Dent right about Rudy. He was rotten. boys. I was sitting at the table responded Mike and Ross. Liyah Smith Hellboy ...... 26 Rudy moved into the neigh- reading Nancy Drew and was “Then don’t lie to me. I The Eye of Smaug ...... 21 Stearman McCalister borhood at the same time Mike interrupted by her screaming. don’t want you ever to look at a Dozing Off to Fill Grain ...... 27 Hannibal Lector Mask ...... 43 and Ross were getting to that Photo 1-6 ...... 45 “So you like to read this?” woman again until you’ve said mischievous age: puberty. Olivia Spires she said rolling up a magazine. some prayers and thought about Afghan Contour ...... 17 Photography Momma tried her best to deter “Well, let’s see how you like what you’ve done,” said Momma. Candace Wheeler Kristen Conguista us from associating with Rudy. it when it smacks across your “Yes, Momma.” African Oasis ...... 33 Color in a Dark World ...... 22 “His Momma is an alcoholic, bum.” She wielded the rolled up As they left the room, Mike Weeping Angel ...... 35 you know?” she would tell us as magazine like a baseball bat and made a grab for the magazine. Nick Elder we walked out the door to go to hit a home run right on Mike’s Having run cross country, Mike Painting Scars ...... 19 Rudy’s. Momma told us every- and Ross’s bottoms. was swift, but Momma was Lanterns ...... 21 one she thought was bad for us Mike responded, “It was swifter. Kay Burnside The Edge ...... 47 was an alcoholic. She told us the Rudy down the street. He said “Not so fast,” said Momma. Serious Soul ...... Cover Rhiannon Hancock local pervert was an alcoholic Drop Dead Gorgeous ...... 23 The Skies Proclaim ...... 25 he found it in a stack in his attic. “I’ve got an idea of what do with so that we would avoid him. We Claire Caprio Christina Legradi They were his dad’s or some- it.” A smirk bloomed on her face Foxy ...... 26 Morning Sea Salt ...... 21 believed her most of the time, but thing.” Mike was never afraid like a fresh, spring flower. “I Serious Soul ...... Fly Sheet Unlikely Friends ...... 8 we were so enamored with Rudy to rat someone out if he thought know exactly what to do.” Lauren Chatelain Stearman McCalister that we couldn’t avoid him. it would save him from getting That night right before Skull Kid ...... 22 Afternoon Swim ...... 6 Momma thought Rudy was punished. dinner, Momma called Mike Erin Graves Swan Love ...... 21 too rambunctious. He was an “I told you not to associate and Ross into the dining room. The Deep ...... 24 Autumn Leaf ...... 24 early bloomer, and that fright- with that psycho,” said Momma. “Since you two think this smut Blue Bird ...... 28 Michael McDonald ened her. Rudy, a mere seventh “He’s no good, and this maga- is so enjoyable, I’ve decided to John Johnson Red Meniscus ...... 25 grader, already had a voice zine is dirt. Pure dirt. Do you share it with the whole family. Love ...... 28 Michael McMillan suited for radio, and his facial know who reads this garbage?” It’ll make a great conversation Stephanie Smith Coast Life ...... 22 hair was years beyond the pencil- Ross began to respond with a piece at dinner.” Momma flipped Farewell to the Day ...... 24 Vikram Sachdeva line mustache that underlined the Chase Velotas Robot Rampage ...... 11 smart-aleck remark, but Momma through the magazine, found the Cold Stare ...... Cover and Fly Sheet noses of most boys his age. “I cut him off. “That drunk pervert centerfold, and ripped it out. She Candace Wheeler really don’t like you hanging out down the street reads this pinned up bare-breasted April Window ...... Cover and Fly Sheet with that boy,” she would warn garbage? Do you want to grow right below the cuckoo clock Memories ...... 26 us. In typical, teenage rebellious up like him?” behind Father’s seat. Mike and Hayley White spirit, we ignored her. “No, Momma. We’re sorry, Ross tried to make her take it Eye of the Tiger ...... Cover and Fly Sheet Momma was right about Momma. We’re terribly sorry. down, but she wouldn’t budge. Abigail Wippel Rudy, though. He was a bad We didn’t look at it, we swear,” “Momma, please don’t do Eyes of Jade ...... Cover and Fly Sheet seed. Mike and Ross said, trying to this,” they implored. “Father’s * * * appeal to Momma’s softer side. going to be so angry.” I remember one day Momma “Don’t you stand here and lie “That’ll teach you to look at was so furious over something to me. Want to go say that to the dirty magazines,” said Momma. 4 5 When Father got home, Momma greeted him with her The Chris Read Award typical hug and kiss. “Ms. April For Fiction will be joining us for dinner The Chris Read Award for Fiction, I Remember Sunday tonight,” she said. instituted with the 1994 issue of Rachel Jones “And who is that? Is she a Southern Voices, honors a member of Third Place—Poetry Competition teacher? Have the boys been up the Mississippi School for Mathematics to no good?” asked Father. He and Science’s Class of 1991. Christopher I remember the smell never asked if I was up to no David Read was an active leader at of starch tip-toeing around corners good. I was an angel in Father’s MSMS as a member of Emissaries, the every Sunday morning. eyes. Debate Club, and the Southern Voices “No, she’s a friend of the staff. Chris’s first love, however, was It lurked from Uncle’s room boys,” Momma said. “She’s quite writing. Southern style. where he stood, the woman. You’ll be delighted Chris often wove his Southern tales his fried-chicken gut standing firm, to meet her. I just admire her late at night. Chris would compose either as he frosted his khakis one more time. so much. She just exposes on the computer or on (his favorite) the everything about herself. It’s old, brown Royal typewriter he had From near the pool-pit, refreshing to find someone so bought from the pawn shop down 13th I saw his smirk as he stood, open.” Street South. Faking sleep, I would watch hands behind back, shirt stiff, “Well, I’m glad they’re invit- the grin on Chris’s face as he worked out tie straight, and modeled a saint. ing a lady friend over. I was the next great story. When he finished, convinced they would never Chris would always “wake me” and excit- He told me warm up to females.” edly read his new story to me. He never I sang well that day, “Oh, I guarantee you they Sharpie knew that I had been hiding, watching simply because I sang at all; love women. You’ll be glad to Shreya Gunapati his creative process with admiration. I The other kids wouldn’t sing meet Ms. April. I’m certain of it. Second Place – Drawing Competition was not the only one to admire Chris’s “This Little Light of Mine.” Now, go sit in the dining room. Sharpie Marker work. This award stands as testimony to Dinner will be right out. We’re the admiration that we all held for Chris I remember the smell of having spaghetti and meatballs.” Dinner was interesting that wife is an excellent chef. Eat up, and his work and as a memorial to the Crown Royal Momma went back to the night. Mike and Ross sat in their Ms. April. You look like you Southern writing tradition which Chris on Sunday afternoons kitchen to finish up dinner. seats, barely looking up at their could use a good meal.” loved. lingering from rooms I evaded. Just as she was draining the food. If Momma had caught After that night, Mike and Chris had the potential to become a spaghetti, Father screamed from them even glancing up at Ms. Ross never let Momma catch great writer. Unfortunately, Chris never I was safe under the bed the dining room, “Who the hell April, she would have beat them them reading Playboy. Rudy reached this potential: he was killed in a with mattress-fuzz stars is this anorexic skank with the with the magazine again. still gave them ample supply, car wreck on January 17, 1993. Though when his gait grew staggered plastic breasts pinned up behind Father, on the other hand, but Mike and Ross stashed them Chris will never attain his dream of writ- and his speech lazy. my seat?” kept making jokes about the high in the attic behind the ing a great novel, all of those who loved “Why, that’s Ms. April, centerfold tacked up behind him. Christmas decorations where and respected Chris hope that the recipi- And now, his breath, dear,” yelled Momma from the “Would you like some food, Momma would never find them. ent of this Award, as well as all the other heavy with whiskey, kitchen. “Isn’t she such a classy Ms. April?” he asked, shov- They did not want a repeat of aspiring writers at MSMS, will achieve hugs my nose woman? I’m glad the boys ing spaghetti sauce all over the the Ms. April incident anytime their dreams. whenever any hands open a bottle. invited her over.” picture. “Does it taste good? My soon. s Michael D. Goggans Class of 1991

6 7 Against the Current administration both ill equipped and unwilling to provide for my Sabrina Moore brother who didn’t fit the mold Second Place —Essay Competition of the other children. Wrestling with the waves of teachers and he grit of sand is washed looks cover school hallways like force of the salt-water walls principals paired with the swells Taway by the swells that the thick plaster of walls, it is at dragging me backwards serves of knowledge Mark worked so surround me as a gust of sweet, times difficult to break from the only to strengthen my desire to hard to learn became a torrent of salty air kisses my face. I glance crowd and do what is right; this push forward, kick harder, and stress that put the household on back to the shore where my is when kindness is most impor- overcome the struggle. Pausing edge. family of six laughs on the sand tant. Therefore, I step in when I my thrashing, I think again of I swim a bit deeper, my and smile at the view, then turn hear people tease the kid in math my brother who is now pouring muscles begging for relief from to the crashing waves that add class who doesn’t know how to a bucket of sea onto a new plot the endless churning of water. As a crescendo to the constant integrate, when I hear the girls of sand, laying the foundation I kick farther and farther from PKD chorus of coastal sounds. I on my soccer team trash talk- for his next creation. He knows the shore, the waves begin to Conor Hultman dive into the pleasant chill of ing about number six who has better than anyone the pain and calm and the ocean becomes the Honorable Mention – Drawing Competition the waves, swim out to where Coke-bottle glasses, when I see thrill that accompanies a strug- picture of serenity from a travel Colored pencils I can hardly stand, and just a group of teens mocking the gle. I remember the long hours brochure or commercial. I look float. I am perfectly happy. boy who doesn’t know how to Mark has spent hunched beside back to the shore to make sure I peek back to the shoreline act because he has a social disor- a desk, begging information my family hasn’t left me and see Driving in August and watch my twelve-year-old der. I think about this as I watch to seep into his brain cells—it Mark appearing as a speck in the Nick Elder brother construct a castle. Mark’s my brother race to construct a never seems to. I remember distance, laughing and splashing forehead crinkles in concentra- castle before the sea claims it. my parents’ reddened faces as with my other brothers by the tion as he adds the fine details to He smiles as my dad walks over they screamed at him in frus- edge of the water. His grin takes The single white dividing line beats past, the masterpiece, adding touches to help, and I smile with him tration, unable to understand me back to a cold auditorium Not measuring blurred distance or rhythmic time, Michelangelo would applaud. My because at the beach, he has no his inability to grasp concepts where he sat two weeks prior to But the spinning of wheels over asphalt. brother has a learning disability worries. such as counting, addition, or the beach trip. He had walked, and speech impediments; you Water crashes over my the alphabet. The school district proud, nervous, and confident all Mississippi summers creep in through can’t see them at the moment, head and I’m reminded of the was a separate battle altogether. at once, as my family watched Latched windows and locked doors, just sometimes. You can see countless hours I’ve spent It was a common occurrence him receive his certificate for Beneath warping floorboards smooth and them when he struggles with fighting against these waves. for my mother to return home making the honor roll for the Marbled black with long words spoken math, unable to count to ten. You I’ve always liked to swim puffy-eyed and distraught after first time. His years of late-night Over cornbread and sweet iced tea. can see them when he talks and against the current. The brute a meeting with a school district studying, persistence, and deter- misuses his verbs. You can see mination had finally paid off. Summer cannot be escaped. them when he studies all night I grin at the memory and The Delta cotton fields are as vast for a test and fails to pass. But return my thoughts to the calm As the downy blue baskets they gaze at, you can’t see them now. I smile water surrounding me. Here, And old as the Live Oaks standing sentinel between at how happy he looks. with my toes far above the sand Coastal views and nodding waves. Mark has had more than his beneath my feet, my mind is free share of teasing and torment to dream, reflect, plan, and chal- Summer can only be lived, from schoolyard bullies. The lenge. I think of the rough waves Accepted without questioning, tears that fall from his hurt- behind me and the inevitable Without numbers to speak of its extremes. filled eyes roll straight from his rough waves ahead, willing this cheeks into my heart and shape Afternoon Swim moment of tranquility to last as The single white dividing line beats past, the way I treat others. In an age Stearman McCalister long as possible. s Measuring life, the breath of wind licking my face, where sharp words and unkind The heartbeat winding its way deeper into the soul. 8 Photograph 9 Life in Space Hail, Mary Joseph Messer Rachel Jones

ell me something about Some things stayed the Returning to Bay St. Louis temporary school in Alabama, Grandma, the Holy Woman, “Tspace,” I said. Mom same—an unbroken china plate after the storm, the first thing I thinking that the students would brands our wrists with her fingers stopped and pointed up. She told buried under rubble—but most saw was the steeple of my church be nothing like me until a boy when dragging us into the church house me that all stars tell stories, that things changed; they were blown lying in the street. I no longer halved his deck of cards and every Sunday. supernovas expand like cream away across the yard or into the believed that what I once knew asked me to play gin rummy. diffusing into a cup of coffee, bay. In the days that followed, I would always stay the same; I I remember the day my school Grandma keeps her grip On her Bible tight, and that NASA sent a chim- would change the most. no longer knew what to believe in Bay St. Louis reopened. My And with lips balled up in fury panzee into space. His name Hurricane Katrina had in, so I started to believe in the fourth-grade class started writing she’ll use it to knock your eyes on the word of God. was Ham, and he could talk uprooted my sense of self that regenerative power of stories. a book called Story of a Storm. with his hands. “But mostly,” had been embedded in my With the town’s television In this book we told our stories Grandma’s kitchen floor must shine like it is new, she said, bending down to my community: in the Purple Cow cables disconnected, I started as students displaced from our So we leave our tattered shoes at the door eyelevel, “space is empty.” ice cream parlor where I always reading books. I read like I was friends, families, and homes. It And polish it with our bitter sweat “Like our home?” I asked. ordered triple chocolate fudge, falling in love, slowly at first and was then that I realized I was not While Grandma wails hymns. Under Katrina’s floodwaters, my celebrating the latest soccer then, all at once, fast until I was alone; my story included every- She gives us our stained plastic bowls house, like my life, had fallen in victory, and in my elemen- hopelessly lost in a relationship one and everything around me. And we eat our rations in the yard on itself, as if it were a neutron tary school where I learned with books. I read everything Some nights, I remember the Where the grass licks our ankles star collapsing. Now I could hold how to count to one hundred in from Stephen King to David story of Ham, the space chimp and the mosquitoes kiss our skin. all that I had in two suitcases English and in Spanish, but only Foster Wallace. With each page, who spoke with his hands. Mom and all that I loved in the space answered questions with “bien” I understood a little more about told me that as he passed through She believes if your body is clean, between my arms held out for a because everything was good the space I call home. With each orbit, Ham turned to the space- So is your soul, hug. back then. sentence, I found more of who craft’s camera and signed: And before bed, she uses her switch I was—an entity separate from Home . To persuade us to ask the Lord for forgiveness. my surroundings—and started Home . But she always puts her wig on straight to remember, word by word, how Perhaps he was thinking of And irons her dress that matches her shoes my life’s story fit back together. Cameroon, his original home, And leaves her laundry in the bedrooms What do I remember? and of his family eating bugs Where company cannot see it. I remember watching CNN and bananas. Perhaps Ham was as my friend’s house split into attempting to say that outer Some women hold their criticisms two equal halves; witnessing my space was his home now. One in the side of their mouths like their husbands do their dip, mother cry, in her hands a photo of the first beings in space, he But some swallow them along with their envy and chuckle, “Oh, Mary, you are a great woman.” album ruined by flood water; could see just how bright the meeting a FEMA worker, who stars shine on the other side of Mary simply flashes her dentures gave me an extra pudding cup the atmosphere. And makes sure to with my MRE; walking into a Like Ham, I think home is Tilt her head towards where she thinks God is Unlikely Friends wherever I make it. s And presents Him their words as proof that she is righteous. Christina Legradi Photograph 10 11 Boys rest of the smug boys, “Andrew in a race.” Mary Frances Holland Margret stopped to think. Honorable Mention—Short Story Competition She knew she could beat any of these boys in a race, but Andrew he afternoon sun beamed playground: the caged mound of the boys that way. She didn’t find was the fastest and she was out down on the Northern monkey bars. She was welcomed bugs or mud gross, but that was T of practice; but she had to prove Riverside Elementary play- warmly, the girls’ eyes shining disgusting. that she belonged in the group. ground. A soft breeze was brightly and freckle-covered As the rest of the girls Margret cocked her hip to the blowing and Margret kept fidget- cheeks grinning friendly. They giggled to each other about who side, just as Steven himself was ing to keep her shaggy blonde gathered around her and braided was cutest, she couldn’t help but standing, and said, “Where to?” bangs out of her eyes. She was her knotted, blond hair, asking look over to the boys as they Steven looked surprised that surrounded by a throng of boys. her all about her life, each chased each other around the she actually would take the chal- Rather, she stood on the edges of collecting little pieces of their dusty playground. No matter lenge. “Um … the first one to their circle. Seven-year-old boys, new friend. She was content how she felt about them, she that tree over there wins.” due to their ever-present fear and her mother was thrilled by just felt more comfortable with “Fair enough,” Margret of the “cooties” epidemic, have the news that her beautiful little them. So the next day, instead Robot Rampage smiled. never been too keen on letting girl was finally acting normal. of venturing out to the dome of Vikram Sachdeva Margret and Andrew lined a girl penetrate their ranks. One day, as Margret’s new monkey bars, Margret strutted Photograph up. Steven yelled, “Go!”, and Margret eyed the group of girls group sat in a circle, talking and out to the middle of the play- Margret was off. Andrew had below. Before her hand could sheepishly up to her. she should have been playing laughing under their castle, one ground where the boys would started just before her, but she make contact with the trunk of “Are you really okay?” he with. They were huddled under of the leaders of the group, Liz, always meet. She finally felt wouldn’t let his centimeter of the tree, Margret was already on asked. the monkey bars, chatting about focused in on Margret and asked, comfortable again. If only they advantage get between her and the ground, sliding on the rough Margret slowly looked up at clothes and pets and how icky “Margret, why did you always felt comfortable around her. She showing all of those boys that red dirt. Andrew touched the him, wiping away the tears. “I boys were—and occasionally play with the boys before?” was left following around and she could keep up. Her short tree. He had won. The rest of the guess.” how lovely. No matter how hard Margret was puzzled. Why participating in as many of their seven-year-old feet were light boys ran up to the tree, congratu- “No, you’re not.” He stuck Margret had tried to fit in with had she? She simply spoke what games as they would let her. As against the dusty playground lating him. Margret stayed on out a small hand and pulled them, she couldn’t. Margret’s she felt. “They aren’t that much they barred her from yet another dirt, leaving small clouds of red the ground. They half-heartedly Margret off the dusty ground. As mother was a model of feminin- different than us girls.” The activity, Margret caught herself debris as she raced alongside asked if she was all right, and she stood, they both realized that ity, an airy glow of pink with a other girls just looked at her, looking over to the monkey bars him. They were almost to the she said she was fine. In reality, her knee was oozing with bright perfectly coiffed blonde mane. confused. “But I like you girls, longing to be included again, tree when Margret began to edge Margret’s body ached, her hands red blood, creating a red muddy She had grown tired of Margret too!” Margret stammered as she even if it meant that she wouldn’t past him. She felt free, her long and knees scratched and caked cake on her left knee. He kept his coming home covered in dirt. tried to save herself from total feel as free as she did now. blonde hair flowing in the wind. in red dirt. More than that, her hand in hers and said, “Come on, After multiple parent/teacher social ruin. Steven, the leader of the group, Her smile spread as wide as the heart was torn. Margret, let’s go to the nurse.” conferences trying to resolve The girls laughed. saw her and said, “Hey, Margret! sea as she grew closer to the Steven laughed and said, The two walked hand in hand the “problem,” Margret’s mother “I still don’t understand, but Why don’t you go back to being tree. Andrew had begun to slow “Well, I guess boys are really from the back of the playground finally confronted her child it’s okay that you do. I mean, a girl again!” down, and now she was several better than girls.” The pack back to the school building. His directly. With the voice of an they can be super cute,” Liz Margret, hurt but once again feet in the lead. She was so close. moved away to continue more hand was warmer than she had angel, soft yet endearing, she giggled, and looked around at filled with confidence, stated, She reached her tiny hand out to of their treacherous games. But expected. His fingers wrapped had urged Margret to just “try the other girls. Margret sighed “But I want to stay here with you grasp the bark before Andrew as they moved farther away and around hers, protective and playing with the girls today.” So in relief. They didn’t think she boys.” could claim the win. But just as Margret stayed huddled on the caring. She was filled with a for the past week Margret had was weird yet, but she dismissed Steven smiled, “Well, you her fingers were about to touch ground, trying to hide her tears, strange feeling. She finally real- ventured to the makeshift palace Liz’s comment about boys being can only stay if you can beat,” he the gray pecan tree, proving one peeled off from the pack. ized what Liz had been talking the other girls had created on the cute. She could never think of looked around the circle at the her win, she felt her foot catch Sam, a boy with bright blue eyes about. s on one of the protruding roots and dark brown hair, walked 12 13 Kings of the Playground The Best Advice Ever Brendan Ryan Rachel Jones

In third grade, we owned the playground, In tenth grade you changed. t about four feet and nine it came to having things cleaned. following them is, in her mind, Our dominance strengthened by the cooties Your mother lost her job and Ainches, my mother stands After school each day, the house the worst thing she could do. We gave out like candy. You had to move across the tracks. over everyone in our house. Not had to be cleaned: the kitchen, So, cleaning. I’m not required to Girls and boys alike feared our strength. literally. My brother and I have the bedrooms, the bathrooms, clean a single thing in my house. We stopped talking. to tilt our heads downward in the yard. Once my mother But, sometimes Mom needs help. You were as swift as Hermes The river that divided our houses order to be face to face with and her sisters had children, One evening, she needed With your highlighter-green Converse Became an ocean. her. However, she manages to Grandma began teaching them more help than usual, which That matched your favorite Ninja Turtles shirt. stand the tallest. She demands how to clean. I never saw any forced me to be her assis- You could outrun any fifth grader. Now, instead of giving away cooties, respect without physical size. mess in the kitchen, yet it was tant. The goal was to make the You give out STDs. I think she got her tough skin always being cleaned. kitchen spotless, and my job was I was as cunning as a fox And I doubt you can see the stars and strong spine from the Army. My grandma is a sweet, stern to shake out the tablecloth. Well, With my pocket dictionary filled with all the dirty Through the haze that fills your mind. I was told they hand them out Southern woman, who spent that day, cleaning was the most words along with sweats and boots once most of her life in Mississippi. repulsive thing I could spend my We weren’t supposed to know. You now use your swiftness you fall off the bus at training She lived in Louisiana for years time on. The tablecloth was my I was never afraid to use them. To run from cops. camp. She tells too many stories after she met my grandfather in enemy; I yanked it off the table, You use the skills you learned from the Ninja about the Army. According to a place they both forget (or try flinging stale crumbs in every We spent summer days together Turtles her, they never feed you, every- not to remember), but they came direction. Building castles with our minds To fight anyone who looks at you funny. one yells, they don’t pay you to their senses and moved back For reasons unknown to And traveling to foreign lands that much, and your free time to Amite County. Amite County mankind, projectile stale crumbs By walking across the street Meanwhile, I sit and read from my pocket is spent cleaning floors with has a few houses in it here and pushed my mother into the That separated our houses like a river. dictionary toothbrushes. there—much different than New abyss of insanity. I guess a roach And can’t help but cry over how She says that in the Army, Orleans, my grandfather’s home. died in her coffee that morning. We spent summer nights together Your innocence faded like your green Converse when you’re not running, you’re I’m sure he likes it, though; She grabbed my arm, with the Underneath the stars That now dangle from the telephone line cleaning. You have to make your there’s plenty of grass for him to force of a man, and gave me the Making up our own names for the constellations. Outside your decrepit house. bed a certain way. You have to mow. lecture of a lifetime. She yelled Each new year brought on a new adventure. fold your clothes a certain way. Due to her lack of negative until tears poked their salty And all I want The floors have to be scrubbed. or positive stories, I assume my heads out of the corner of my Our childhood was idyllic. Is to go back to the days The walls have to be cleaned. mother feels indifferent towards eyes. We owned the world. When we were Kings of the Playground. The ceilings have to be cleaned; moving to Amite County Only one thing was heard the place has to be spotless. Her from Louisiana when she was through her rant. In a fit of rage, Army rants are wrapped up by younger. However, I know her she yelled “It don’t matter if you her revealing that the only things precise feelings on cleaning. mop floors for a living! You she learned in the Army were She knows how to clean, but she better be the best floor-mopper how to shoot a gun and how to often doesn’t want to. I once had in the world!” It sounds absurd, clean a toilet the idea that she developed Post but it remains the best advice The Army is not the sole Traumatic Stress Disorder from I’ve ever been given. s origin of my mother’s vast clean- the Army and Grandma. ing knowledge. Her mom was My mother finds Grandma’s nothing short of a fanatic when footsteps unappealing, and

14 15 Pizza and Hoagies Brendan Ryan Grandma’s Hands First Place—Essay Competition Adina Harri Honorable Mention—Poetry Competition y father’s accent is enchanting.” They speak just My mother’s accent comes awful in there. I couldn’t get my Mscraped from the burnt like they’re from Gone with right off the food trucks cart through any of the aisles.” Deftly scrubbing, peeling, chopping, cubing crust found in the back of the the Wind . My father thinks that of her native Philadelphia, My mom also has a bad habit Dirt-covered garden potatoes. brick ovens that fill Brooklyn, Southern women elongate their Pennsylvania. Just like the food of using derogatory expressions New York’s, pizzerias. His words so they have time to think, truck workers, she serves a deli- as terms of endearment. I know Sewing embellished curtains words are sharp like the points to catch their tongues before they cious hoagie every time she she’s talking to one of my aunts And flower-patterned pillowcases; of the thin pizza crust, and accidentally speak their minds, talks. Her accent is more subtle when she answers the phone with his words often come out just like their mamas taught than my father’s, but she dresses her customary “Yo, skank, how’s Mending my frayed jeans, faster than he can think. them. I wholeheartedly agree. her discussions with wonderful it going?” My brother and I have Full of holes like Swiss cheese. In our small town in rural When we’re at home and the neologisms and colloquialisms. picked up the habit and like to Mississippi, people notice his marble-mouths are out hunting The foremost of these is in her refer to my mom as a “feeb,” Washing clothes with skin-chafing soap; Pinning them up to flap in the balcony wind, thick accent. I can’t count the or riding their four-wheelers, discussions on sandwiches. when teasing her about her age. Like pirate flags beating above the ocean. number of times I have been my father seasons the conversa- My mother insists that Instead of getting offended, she with my father and he’s been tion with expletives, especially all sandwiches are “hoagies.” smiles at the compliment. In my Crossing her heart as she enters church, asked, “You ain’t from ’round when he’s working in the garage. She refuses to lower herself house crude words are mercurial; Left, right, up, down; here, are ya?” It’s always the When he drops a wrench, the by calling sandwiches “subs,” they can be used in both fights Praying amongst kindled candles. country folk that ask, the people F-bomb falls with it. My father “heroes,” or “grinders.” When and expressions of love. who speak like they were play- drops the S-word into the my mother and I go into neigh- My mom also likes to add the Swinging a beer-filled mug to her lips— ing chubby bunny and got conversation when the computer boring Louisiana for a day, she suffix “-er” to the end of words Chilled relief after a work-crammed day. carried away. They are the men doesn’t work, spicing up the cringes every time she hears to indicate their function. The with a musky scent, no teeth, discourse. My mother likes to about the latest “po’ boy” shop. remote control is the “clicker” Holding mine— and speech that sounds like it joke that we could pay for a “It’s a hoagie,” she tells me. “I because it is used to click Mountains and valleys of lines and wrinkles, is disfigured by a mouth full of vacation if we started a swear don’t want to catch you calling it through the channels. It can also Rough like sandpaper. marbles. jar whenever my father is in the anything else.” be called the “flipper.” When The Southern Belles have garage. I think there’s truth to My mom also likes my mom streams Netflix on the Carrying me when I fall; questions as well. When they that. nicknames. She laces her conver- television, the “clicker” becomes Guiding my path on life’s rocky road— come around, I can smell the My father’s humor is dry— sation with lovely invented the “Netflixer.” My mom’s favor- Always there to pick me up. sweet tea on their breath and like pizza crust left out too sayings. In my family, all elderly ite “-er” word is “texter.” She see the questions brewing in long—and his jokes are often people are generically referred will be driving, hear that she has their minds. They mark their misunderstood by outsiders of to as “feebs,” short for “feeble.” received a text message, and say, territory with their sugar-water my family. He possesses a brute When my mom comes back from “Brendan, could you check my breath as compliments drip from sarcasm many people don’t Wal-Mart, she always complains texter for me? I think I have a calling “hoagies” “subs,” and mother’s coined phrase, and I their tongues like molasses, too understand. He even likes to to me about how many “feebs” new message.” It’s usually one of I do not wield my father’s do find myself cursing like my sweet to swallow. “Why, darlin’,” sour the conversation by call- were using those “cursed electric my aunts saying “How’s it going, sharp accent. I don’t get asked father on occasion. I possess a they say to my father, “Do you ing me a bastard, and I kindly scooters.” “Brendan,” she tells skank?” where I’m from or if I have any pleasant blend of my father’s have any kinfolk down here? I remind him that he was, in fact, me, “I swear, they must have My accent is generic, lacking “kinfolk” from around here. My pizza and my mother’s hoagies– don’t think I’ve ever heard that married to my mother before I been giving out free life-insur- the deliciousness of my parents’ accent is neither enchanting nor and for that I am thankful. s delicious accent before. It’s so was conceived. ance in Wal-Mart today. It was speech. I have no problem unique. However, I do use my 16 17 Teachers’ Lounge paper balls were replaced by the batteries from the TI Inspire Tylicia Grove calculators the school owned. I guess those didn’t leave enough wish I could just retreat to the the even the clouds didn’t carry Shah thought would turn into bruises .Next they decided to teachers’ lounge for the rest that day. The broken batteries only a sharp-tongued verbal I throw the actual calculators at of the day was the only thought that were thrown are the least of dispute turned into a knife fight. Mrs. Shah. There were nine of that Mrs. Shah had for the first my worries from the trick they Mrs. Shah panicked and hyper- them; she remembered being half of class. “Okay, everyone, pulled last time . ventilated to the point where her broken because three of her I need for you all to put away “Who do you think you’re mind swam with the scenes that paychecks were used to purchase the Uno cards. You need to pay talking to? You need to respect unfolded before her. Before she new ones. Then, Mrs. Shah attention.” Mrs. Shah looked her; she is here for a reason,” knew it, she had been pushed sobbed a bit harder. I couldn’t around the crowded room filled was what Mrs. Shah heard in her onto the floor and had bruised even eat my meal in peace was with students, mostly seniors defense from one of her better her head on the cold tile. It’s the next thing she remembered. who waited until the last minute students. Mrs. Shah paused, happening again . This time, they Mrs. Shah was never one to be to take the course. Some of glanced up to gaze at Terry for will kill me . mean to others, especially her the desks that were filled were his heroic words. The words Shah was helped up by one students. Somehow she still reserved for the sophomores who seemed to be the most beauti- of the few students, Andre, who Afghan Contour could not figure out why they were considered overachievers ful symphony to her ears at that actually obeyed her few rules poisoned her water. The tears Olivia Spires by the upperclassmen. Then she moment. Those words almost in class. She stared blankly at that streamed down her face Sharpie and Pencil took a peek at the clock. It read gave her the courage to continue his mouth as he told her he’d go reminded her of the eye drops 2:15 p.m., meaning that she had trying towards being more notify someone in the office. they placed into her cup that day a whopping forty-five minutes authoritative with the rest of the Yet, she didn’t hear him. The which led to her being in the Aunt left before she could leave the group, but it wasn’t enough to only words she heard were in her hospital for days. The internal grounds of the campus. Mrs. empower her to do so. head. I’ve got to get out of here . Rachel Jones bleeding and shock left her too Shah glanced past the window “Why don’t you go back over She fought to get through the weak to be left alone for a week. pane into the dreary, dimly to the corner you little… ” Mrs. crowd that laughed at the new I wish you’d keep your finger When she imagined life in lit parking lot. Even the sun Shah gasped. Never before had bruise she had on the right of out of my ear while I’m asleep; the United States, it was never would hide from the students . she heard a flood of obsceni- her forehead. She stared at them Your nails hurt and Q-tips like this. She thought she wanted Among the murmur of ties leave the mouths of such battered and bewildered at their have a purpose. to teach. She thought she wanted complaints, “Shut up! Why you young people. As the obsceni- obsession with causing pain. Yet, to do a lot of things that involved I can’t do what you ask; here n-e way? We can’t even ties progressed, the light outside she pressed forward, as if leaving her only ending up hurt in the I have yet to learn how to “quite cryin’,” undastand you half tha time,” became dimmer and dimmer. that room meant that she would end. One thing she knew for how to fix my hair, and how to was what the anxious Geometry That’s it; I’ve got to buzz the find oxygen to finally breathe for sure was that she had to leave dress like a girl. teacher heard. office .Her only line of defense the first time on the other side of the school; she had to leave town And if you paid attention against the war that brooded in the thick, wooden door. She ran immediately. Without return- But, even though I hate ruffles, in class for once, you’d real- her room was shot down by the until she reached the teachers’ I’ll wear that dress you put on the bed ing to the classroom to see the ize I speak it better than you loud screams that came inten- lounge. With no one there to because I’m sorry Uncle likes Budlight result of the fight, she grabbed was all she could think of as she tionally from the mouths of the see her shame, she cried. “Why as much as he likes you. her belongings from the locker listened to the broken dialect soldiers that sat in the desks. didn’t I just stay in India?” she on the yellow wall and walked of each student. However, she Leaving her without a way to whispered through sobs. When the sun creeps in, so will he, out of the building, doing what knew better than to say this notify the office of the incident Verbal abuse was all she to fill the empty sheets. she felt she should have done two aloud. She remembered all her that was taking place, they once thought she would deal with in I wish you’d keep you finger out of my years ago. s failed attempts to teach there. again won, getting a chance to her first few weeks of teaching. ear, but we’re alone here, Feelings of defeat and shame see the fourth altercation of the Before she knew it, she’d had filled her with a heaviness that day at Cordele High. What Mrs. paper balls thrown at her. Later so, I guess it’s okay. 18 19 Roots Adina Harri

ome people are like pine toddling tot. I grew up happy, love surrounded me—a love up everything for their fami- Strees. Their roots run straight not through material possessions for learning. My kindergar- lies: Nëna Vangja, who cared and narrow, diving deep into a or a luxurious home, but through ten classroom was an early for her crippled daughter, serv- chunk of earth until strong winds love. I still remember sitting in Christmas present, teaching me ing her on hands and feet; Nëna or lumberjacks knock them Grandma Marie’s lap listening numbers and letters that whirled Dhorka, who worked tirelessly down. Others are like far-reach- to stories of Abraham’s sons, together to create words and as a seamstress from the time ing oaks. Their roots explore Noah’s ark, and David’s battle; I symbols I could understand. I she was a teenage wife to the every crevice of dirt, stretching remember sleeping over, cuddled read everything that crossed my day she became an aged, wrin- their arms past earthworms and under Winnie-the-Pooh blankets eyes—billboard signs, restaurant kled woman. I learned what it nodules into unfamiliar territory. while waiting for my little sister menus, newspaper clippings, and felt like to be enveloped in love, Some people live their whole to arrive; I remember eating at Grandma Marie’s Old Testament surrounded by family that shared lives on the same soil, entwined famed Eskimo Joe’s and ordering stories. I absorbed information my roots. within one community. Others cheese-covered curly fries with like a dehydrated desert sponge One winter day, this bubble Scars spread their lives in a variety Mr. Ross after Sunday morning in an attempt to quench my thirst burst. While my family lounged Nick Elder of directions: north, south, church; I remember building a for knowledge, a desire I have to in the living room, exchang- Honorable Mention – Photography Competition west, east—or somewhere in snowman outside our apartment this day. ing bits of small talk on a Photograph between. Like the oak trees, on my first White Christmas. My learning was interrupted stormy afternoon, Daddy blew my roots extend far beyond These little memories had a by an unforeseen dinner-table through the door, shaking off my hometown of Starkville, powerful impact: They fostered announcement: We were flying raindrops and frost like a wet Gone was the language of my California, Europe or America: Mississippi. My roots reach the love my tree used to flourish. overseas, moving back to dog. He sat my younger sister Albanian ancestors; alive was We all share the same roots. into clays of different colors, After three years spent Albania, the land of my heri- and me down on each knee the distinct Southern dialect. We’re all human. each shaded separate from enveloped in love, my origins tage and my true roots. There, I and inquired, “How would Despite the initial culture shock, Each place I’ve lived in and the rest. Each section of clay were uprooted. My family was exposed to a different kind you two like to move back to I learned to love the South. I visited has influenced me, taught guides my roots, molding me. left the flat, familiar soil of of learning—a holistic cultural America?” Remembering excit- attended Overstreet Elementary me lessons, and shaped my Originally, my tree found Oklahoma for the rolling sand experience unlike any I had ing kindergarten classrooms School as an eager third grader, tree’s high-reaching branches. roots in Stillwater, Oklahoma, dunes of California. My roots known before. Grandparents, and Disney Land characters, I and learned more than just multi- My widespread roots push me a region even flatter than the adapted, replanting on a subur- cousins, aunts, and uncles said yes. America was home; plication tables—I learned to to grow taller and stronger, to Mississippi Delta. I survived in a ban, cement-walled house on the surrounded me for the first time it held a piece of my history. say “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir,” I achieve my goals. Each section tiny apartment with my parents, outskirts of Torrance. Although in my life, teaching me: not with Although it was difficult to leave learned that “y’all” is the plural of clay I’m a part of contributes first-generation Albanian immi- Grandma Marie’s stories and Mr. letters and symbols, but with my Albanian roots behind, our “you” form absent in the stan- to my education as a world citi- grants and college students. As Ross’ hugs no longer comforted gestures and actions. I learned compact family of four boarded dard English language. Growing zen—without my diverse roots, a toddler, I was oblivious to me, Disney Land and San Diego how to dance the traditional the transatlantic airplane, loaded up in Mississippi, I learned to I wouldn’t have grown into the the struggles they encountered, beach easily distracted my four- Albanian valle and greet guests with hefty luggage, good wishes, appreciate the slowed lifestyle— adventurous person I am today. caring for a small child on a year-old mind. The first day of with two kisses on the cheek, and lessons learned—lessons days spent riding four wheelers Because of my roots, I appreciate measly monthly income, strug- kindergarten erased my linger- learned the best cooking in the crucial to my survival in the in the woods, fishing on lazy differences, and I’m not afraid to gling to assimilate into a culture ing blues. I met my best friend, house, how to cross busy city heart of the South. Saturday afternoons, eating step out of my comfort zone into unlike their own. Without help Caitlin, played freeze tag on the streets on my way to the park, I still remember my sister’s everything deep-fried: fried unknown territory. Each time from my godparents, Mr. Ross playground, and laughed at the to finish my plate of food so first words upon reaching pickles, fried green tomatoes, I do, I’m proud to say that I’ve and “Grandma Marie,” my roots brown-eyed guy sitting next to that it sparkled like new, and to Starkville, Mississippi: “This is fried corn fritters, and the classic added another place for my roots, would have lacked a strong foun- me in class. Still, I never forgot celebrate life with friends and America?” Lost were the sunny fried chicken. I learned to love another place I belong—and I dation to nourish their growth. the Oklahoma love that raised family. I learned the values of days of Southern California; differences—it doesn’t matter can’t wait to see where my roots Love from my parents and my me strong. hard work and sacrifice through found were the sticky, muggy if people are from the North or will next find fertile soil. s godparents nurtured me into a Now, a different kind of my grandmothers, who gave days of Northern Mississippi. the South, from Oklahoma or 20 21 Clock Lost Girl Sabrina Moore Quinn Massengill

The ticking tendrils tiptoe across the number-speckled countenance, Little Lucy Harrison, Trapping time in its tocks. So much smaller, So much older, The curve of the six sees the break of dawn, So much poorer, The fleeting seconds of quiet before day drifts from dark. So much quieter Than everybody else. The quiet curve of two Spies the scorching sun, We were in sixth grade together. Shining in the day’s hottest heat. In seventh, I wondered if you had gone away. Swan Love But there you were, Stearman McCalister A lazy hour hand atop the twelve Your silence somehow even quieter than before. Photograph Peers out at a moonlit mirage of the world, Shining under lunar light. In eighth grade, you were always changing, Trying to metamorphosize into a butterfly, The Eye of Smaug The speedy second hand spots Never finding the beauty Liyah Smith Every drop of a dime, In who you already were. Every wink or blink, Honorable Mention – Drawing Competition Charcoal and Pastels Every twinkle of the eye. I thought once to tell you How pretty your hair looked. And still the lazy hour hand spins The next day I found you, On its minute-marked face, And it was cropped short, Watching the world No longer bright auburn, From its glass-covered case. But bleached blonde. Lanterns And the week after, Nick Elder It was stained as black as ink. Second Place – Photography Competition Photograph I still remember you, Not for the few words that passed your lips, And not for the words others said about you That spread like wildfire, But for the words you always kept inside. And for the words I said, Or to my shame, Mostly kept hidden in my mind, Rather than using them To defend you from the hordes. Morning Sea Salt Now, I wonder, Little Lucy Harrison, Christina Legradi Two-Face Vase Are you still lost? First Place – Photography Competition Photograph Ross Berry I’m sorry I did not do more To help you find the girl I saw every day, Honorable Mention – Sculpture Competition But you never stopped searching for. 22 Wire 23 La Chica Nueva1 Jena Dees Second Place—Poetry Competition

Usually Star Students got to take Our young ears did not You were astonished at my Skull Kid care of the class pet, understand “casa,”4 Lauren Chatelain But Mrs. Franklin asked me to The hushed whispers And I could not believe take care of you. Between the teachers – You had never known anyone First Place – Painting Competition Watercolor and Pencil “Illegal Immigrant” with a pool. You: “Pyler vs . Doe” “The New Girl” “Day-crossers” When you gave me your gifts “The Spanish Girl” Wrapped up the best as could be “The One That Can’t Even Speak I asked my mom why they called with tissue paper and tape, English.” your madre3 an alien. I was astonished to see Mexico was another planet? Your favorite Polly Pocket, Learning Spanish became my Mommy explained that everyone Guada’s only hair ribbon, new hobby, wasn’t as lucky as me. Lucy’s cherished Beanie Baby, But a lot could be shared through And a card a simple smile. I didn’t understand what she That had “Feliz Cumpleaños!”5 meant Scribbled in pink crayon. Color in a Dark World We both liked dress-up and Until I invited you and your dollies and daisy chains sisters and your cousins Kristen Conguista 1 The New Girl Out on the playground. To my seventh birthday party. 2 A friend and a sister Honorable Mention – Photography Competition Soon, we were inseparable. 3 Mother Photograph 4 House When we went to pick you up, 5 Happy Birthday With you came Sofía, Adriana, I couldn’t believe that “house” Guadalupe, and Lucy. was your home. And it turned out that it was not I helping you make friends; Rather, you all receiving me As una amiga y una hermana.2

Coast Life Michael McMillan Photograph

Drop Dead Gorgeous Kay Burnside Acrylic 24 25 The Deep Erin Graves A Skin of Ice Second Place – Painting Competition Joseph Messer Fabric Paint How anybody lives is a mystery: Everyone stands on thin ice. Yet I will dance tonight, swinging a woman Whose eyes glisten like glaciers. The Skies Proclaim Both bodies inflected differently Rhiannon Hancock Rotate on a one-inch blade Photograph Revolving in a blur of motion. Twisted, white limbs swirl and twirl Like dancing ballerina girls.

How long until we reach escape velocity? Autumn Leaf Bodies become birds Stearman McCalister And take flight. Photograph The Atlantic is under us now; We lose sight of a land That was never ours. Ice on the shore Glisten back like blues eyes.

We’ll glide out of sight Until morning when weight returns And we’re back, standing On a skin of ice.

Farewell to the Day Stephanie Smith Third Place – Painting Competition Acrylic Red Meniscus Michael McDonald Third Place – Photography Competition Photograph

26 27 The Black Widow Elise Cannon

They called her “The Black The Black Widow’s feet Every child held his breath Hellboy Widow,” Stepped on creaky floorboards. As The Black Widow raised her Camille Dent But in class they said, “Ms. The air felt thick and heavy paddle. Charlotte.” On the children’s backs. The moment she struck, the First Place – Sculpture Competition sobbing ceased. Ceramic Her long, bony limbs moved with Smoke filled the room, Delicacy and purpose as she Made it hard to breathe, The child’s shock came through fastened Cobwebs grew in the corners her voice, Thin, white letters together on Like the weeds. “That didn’t hurt.” the blackboard. She spun short, curled webs One day, Debbie, The room erupted. The sun From her scalp in mangled With straight A’s and straight came in. clusters. laces, The heavy air flew from the Gave in to the lullaby of window, Her voice was a soft whisper, The chalk: tap, scratch, And laughter pressed through Daring them to make a sound, Tap, tap, scra-tch . every lip. To miss a word. The Black Widow took the Ms. Charlotte’s paddle destroyed No one spoke in that room. Dusty paddle from its rusted The Black Widow. Every little back was straight and hook and Even after the second thump. still. Called the sleeping child to the A poisonous spider lurked front. Memories In their midst, ready to strike. Debbie’s eyes welled up. Candace Wheeler Her short gasps moved with her Honorable Mention – Painting Competition Through rows of desks Acrylic Until they became earsplitting sobs That echoed in the students’ minds.

Dozing Off to Fill Grain Liyah Smith Foxy Marker Claire Caprio Honorable Mention – Painting Competition Acrylic on Wood Panel 28 29 Blue Bird The Sweet Sound of Southern Syllables Erin Graves Quinn Massengill Watercolor and Sharpie rowin’ up, I always representative. I remember a momma’s momma. “Mundee” “Gcalled my pa ‘Daddy,’ time when I wouldn’t have imag- through “Fridee,” mommas and just like he did his daddy and ined my father’s ever uttering daddies go to work and kids go his daddy did his daddy and his the word “representative,” but to school. On “Saturdee’s,” the daddy’s daddy did his daddy. I low and behold, he became one. “old folks” get up early and the s’pose it’s been that way since I guess when your opponent is “young uns” sleep all day long. the beginnin’ ’a time, ’cept I named something like Jimmy More than anything else, I know the English language John Shooter, it isn’t too impor- always remember the one excep- ain’t been around that long.” tant who’s more “country.” tion to Southern speak. There This is my father’s native In Hickory Flat, Mississippi, are a few things in the South that tongue. Not that my mother where both my dad and I grew are held with reverence befitting is any less Southern than he up, you never put a “g” at the end the Ark of the Covenant. One is is; she just happens to be a of a word. That’s just too much singing in church, which even language teacher. Here at school for your lips to carry in the swel- the stuffiest of crotchety old men away from home, I have a new tering Southern summers. Back stand and salute with silence, tongue in my mouth and a home, “well” is where water and my own daddy even takes new vocabulary in my mind. comes from; everything else is part in with a whispering, nearly Animal Spirit Mask If proper grammar is my pair “good,” and we sign checks with voiceless song. Another is death, Lauren Chatelain of nice, new “church shoes,” “pins,” not “pens.” At night we where everybody who knew Second Place – Sculpture Competition then Southern slang is my old, turn “own” the lights, stretching anybody who was an acquain- Clay, Acrylic, Balsa Foam, and Feathers worn-out, beloved pair of sneak- out our i’s until the cows come tance of the deceased person ers I wear only in the comfort home. When somebody’s in trou- attends the funeral and women of home. I’ve always been ble “over yunder,” we make sure stifle sobs and men shed a few taught proper grammar and, to “give ’em sum hep.” When shimmering tears. after devouring thousands of you can step on the head of your Perhaps above all else that books, have acquired an exten- shadow, it’s dinner time, and in is holy to my daddy is a single sive vocabulary; however, such the evenin’ we eat supper. word. Of all the titles of endear- language simply sticks out like Around those parts, every- ment given to many members a sore thumb at home as much thing outside “shaw is purty,” of our family, it is the only one as Southern slang would in a except in winter when we have that is never slung about, always research paper. to build a “ferr” to keep us drawn out and pronounced Love Back to my daddy. He’s warm. In north Mississippi, in its fullness and glory. John Johnson quite a remarkable man. He is we drink cokes, and a pop is a “Grandmother,” slow and still the most honest and hardwork- smack in the face. Little kids passes his lips, and reflected in Acrylic ing man I have ever met, with better slap a “ma’am” or “sir” his face, I know that I am seeing a mouth that matches his north after every “yes” and “no” or the spirit of a woman I have Mississippi roots. I never, ever their daddy will “shurr’ nuff tear never met. s would have imagined my father them up.” On “Sundee’s” we go as a politician, let alone a state to church and eat dinner with my 30 31 As Lonesome as the Moon Conor Hultman Third Place—Short Story Competition

e sat in his cracked leather ing and weaving around each gems. But most precious of all, man had his bent downwards, spread out on the snow. Rushing the winter woods, choking and Harmchair, facing the other, like they were caught in a his wife sat at a table in the the butt pressed closely to the over, he could see his brother’s burying his thoughts, threaten- window. A withered hand rested wind or dancing to an unheard middle of the dining area, seated side of his chest. As they trekked hands draw up around his neck. ing to rub him out. Blinking and on a clouded tumbler, half-full tune. They were aiming cap between her father and some through the woods, an aura of The man crouched over him, refocusing his eyes, he looked with whiskey and ice, which had pistols at each other, taking family friends. Her red hair stillness seemed to coat the air and saw the blood seeping up past the window. Outside, his served him well over the years. turns rolling to avoid the “shots” tumbled down her fair face and like wet, warm paint, filling their through his fingers and out onto grandsons were still play-fight- And the years were many. The and swinging out an arm to roared down her straight back ears and making it hard to think. the snow, staining it crimson. ing with their cap pistols. The lines in his face, like the creases “shoot.” Occasionally, one like a waterfall. Her full lips The sun, bright and distant, was His eyes swam up at the man, taller one drew up his gun and in a folded quilt, crept down would awkwardly fall down and wore a slight smile. Her eyes, only a little under half over the wide with shock, like two colos- pointed it directly at the other’s from the temple above his brow straighten his legs and loll his green and twinkling, like emer- horizon. Birds should have been sal, looming moons. His brother head, pulling the trigger. The to the jowls at the corners of his tongue. Then the other would alds, looked at one of the faces chirping, but maybe they had opened his mouth and tried to smaller one fell down, splaying mouth. His gray hair was swept pick him up, both beaming beside her, blinked, then flit- learned better. They worked their speak, but only a sick gurgle out his legs and arms. The old from his face and fell down the cheerfully. The old man didn’t ted to him. She flashed a wide way closer to the edge of the lake came, and more blood spilled man looked onward, feeling his nape of his spotted neck. His smile, but put the tumbler to his smile, her teeth gleaming like where they had set the decoys. over the corner of his lips. As lungs draw tight while his stom- eyes, clouded like the whiskey, mouth and drank. carved ivory. She turned back as Almost there now, he could see sudden and powerful and fright- ach sank. He made no motion but also cold like the ice, were Finishing his cool draft, the a waiter brought the main course lake through the stark, bare ening as the shot itself, the man on his face; it was as bleak and set on the window. The rest of man wiped his mouth on the on a pewter platter. Setting it trees. started to scream. The scream pitted as the face of Antarctica. the room was as chipped and back of his hand. The pieces of down, the waiter drew off the And there were the doves. rattled his whole frame, squeez- The room was as lonesome as faded and layered with dust as ice in the glass clinked together. top, revealing several steaming, Hopping around the decoys, they ing his lungs and pushing down the Moon. the old man and his chair. The He brought the tumbler down glazed doves— jerked their heads inquisitively on his stomach. His brother’s Then, from the corner of the door, high and made of rich from his face and examined it. Doves. up at them, sensing something face was gray and drawn, his window, the old man saw his mahogany, had scuffs on the It was still beautiful, although The old man gripped the different without deciding what. mouth smeared red. When the little granddaughter stomp out edges; the knob was tarnished. smudged from years of use. All chair tightly, his knuckles white, His brother looked back at the man picked him up, his brother’s to her brothers on the lawn. She On either side of the door were the faces of the tumbler reflected trying to get back to the room. man, then began at an even pace neck slipped backward, and the grabbed the orange-tipped cap desks stacked with papers and the man’s stone gaze on top of But already he was falling back to swing his shotgun off his blood flowed quickly, almost like pistols out of their hands and envelopes, topped with coins the whiskey, as if trapped in into that vision, cloudy like the shoulder. The man swung his a river. His brother’s face was stood between them, pouting. and letter-openers to weigh amber. It was a wedding pres- whiskey, but also cold like the gun from his side towards the tightening, then slackening, then The smaller one drew himself them down. A shelf to the man’s ent from his father-in-law. He ice. He fought, in vain, to pull doves in one fluid motion. Just tightening again; but always the off the ground, and they both right held decade-old liquors, remembered the reception. The himself away from it, until he like it had been, just like it had to eyes fixed upward at the man, shuffled sheepishly around her, kept in green and brown bottles ballroom was decorated with found himself facing that clear be, he saw himself slip his hold scared. So scared, always. apologizing out of the corners corked with jeweled stoppers. streamers and balloons, the morning sky that haunted his of the gun and clutch the trigger The old man sat slumped in of their mouths. At that, she Above the shelf was a simple tables set with deep purple table- dreams, asleep and awake. That as he tried to pull it back up. The his armchair, facing the window grinned brightly. The old man white wall clock, long-since cloths and embroidered napkins, same forest, crowded with naked shot boomed out as loud as the but not looking at it, not really permitted himself a small smile; broken. That was okay. In here, bordered by sterling silver forks trees trimmed with frost, that bells of God’s grandfather clock. looking at anything. His grip on then, he drew his attention back he didn’t have to know the time. and knives. A massive crystal he had revisited a million times The doves lifted up their slight the tumbler had long since loos- through the window into the Past the window, his two chandelier hung from the ceil- in his mind. His brother walked brown bodies and flew away. ened, and he held onto it with the dusty room, put the tumbler back grandsons were playing in the ing. He could see his face in the slowly ahead of him. They both His brother fell on his knees tips of his fingers. The room had to his mouth, and drank. s garden. Among the bushes and marble floor. Everything glit- carried shotguns. His brother had and slumped backward, his hair that same suffocating silence of 32 flower beds they were dodg- tered, like a cave full of precious his slung over the shoulder. The 33 Mimi’s Museum Nick Elder Third Place—Essay Competition

ones and fossils line the She takes me out to the head is dented, but the handle is and recognize Mimi’s scrawl in Bhaphazard metal tool closet garage, glancing over the white worn smooth. Her father used it the margins near Jamestown, in the garage. Mummies sit spine Lexus and black Buick, but to build her a bassinet the week juggernaut, and kangaroo as I to spine in the oak armoire that focusing on the beige metal tool before she was born. That was flip through the pages. It’s the stands in the corner of the living shed in the corner. She opens seventy years ago, but the bassi- same tall, tight writing that has room watching years pass as the doors wide, her smile even net still lives, its smooth walnut adorned many a Christmas and every new layer of dust settles. wider, inviting me to come do waves gracing the room I sleep birthday card. I move on to a My grandmother is a native more than look. Slight confes- in when I visit. cup of nib-tipped pens with Texan living in Wadsworth, sion: the “bones,” “fossils,” and We head back inside to the wooden paintbrush shafts. They Illinois. Her name is Elizabeth, “mummies” are actually tools living room. The glass-faced are the kind that you have to dip but she is called Mimi or Yiayia and books, but they hold just as armoire looms large. Usually I into an ink-well. I imagine how African Oasis by a growing horde of grandchil- many stories when in Mimi’s don’t dare go closer than three messy it must have been to write Candace Wheeler dren. Besides being a world-class hands. feet, but as Mimi turns the essays—and shudder. First Place – Drawing Competition Stipple traveler, gourmet chef, and inde- I hold the tools as I would key—the one with the tassel that Four generations of stories pendent tutor, she is a collector a newborn baby, wary of their always sits in the lock on the and artifacts pass through my of artifacts—tangible history. strength—amazed at their age. glass doors—I can’t help but to hands in a mere twenty minutes, One summer afternoon, as She instead grabs them, thrust- be sucked in. I shuffle closer and I am left in a daze. I eventually Neighbor my cousin and I play ping-pong ing them upon me, confident in smell undeniable age. Not old- resume my ping-pong match Rachel Jones in the basement of her house, their power. She doesn’t need people age, but yellowed-pages, with my cousin (I lose of course) I realize a screw in the table is any encouragement. She leaps cracked-leather, and dusty- before helping make dinner, You planted your loose, the obvious source of my into stories. Her eyes glaze over memories age. On the front shelf clearing the table, and trudg- weathered sandals into missed shots. I run upstairs to as years past come flooding is a book, no larger than a regu- ing off to my lonely blow-up our cement porch, ask Mimi if she has a flat-head back. A few tears spill over the lar-sized picture, bound in brown mattress upstairs. Before I fall taking your familiar, screwdriver so I can fix the corner of her eyes, too. She picks worn leather, “Autographs” asleep I wonder what things of desperate stance. ping-pong table and take back up a wrench, large and dusky printed in gold leaf. The only mine will be passed down to my Your skin harbored a my rightful place as grandmas- gray. It shouts MADE IN THE thing she says is that it was great grandchildren, and what fellowship of grime. ter of the paddle in the family. USA. She remembers her father her grandfather’s, uncle’s, and stories will accompany them. Sweat stained, you knocked She leaves the peach half-sliced using it to fix his Model A truck, father’s before it came to her. What things of mine will inspire, on another door that was, on the cutting board and heads leaning for hours over the engine Books can tell their own stories. will link my world with theirs, for you, to never open. out to the garage. I, however, of his first car that he babied I am scared to breathe as a bond across time, a greeting am distracted by the nine-month for thirty-seven years after. The she sets the book in my hands, from the grave. I get as far as I smelled you old cousin attempting to eat spade that sits in the corner was worried that the mere stirring my name before I pass out in a through the walls. Cheerios off the yellow tray of the one he used to show her how of air will crumble the dog- tangled mess of flowered sheets The epitome of a beggar, his highchair. Mimi comes back to grow tomatoes, as she still eared tea-colored pages. Names exposing bare feet and a faint you left with empty hands with a rust-tinged screwdriver does. Fresh soil from the small tumble spill out: Lindberg, smile. s and charred palms, with wooden handle. It feels old. garden bed outside clings to the Dempsey, Temple, Chaplin, and Always a nosy kid, I ask her tip—old tools for old lessons. Hepburn. I move on to a set of unaware that I where she got it. She just smiles. She hands me a hammer. The encyclopedias. I pick out J-K, sat watching through the window. 34 35 Lily Peter was taken aback. This lady sure didn’t mince words, Nick Elder but he liked her, so he decided to Second Place—Short Story Competition yield to her inquiries. He didn’t realize that this was the first eter was a little more than storm, he went to the pound. “I ain’t yur mother. Call me person he had told outside of his a lot embarrassed to admit Several years earlier, he had seri- Ellie. Now are you here to volun- P parents and Dr. Kruthrapali. that he had finally succumbed to ously considered getting a dog, teer or adopt?” “Do you remember the storm the idea that he should get a dog; but his allergies that followed “Uh … adopt.” a year back that cut out all the he wasn’t the type to contradict him since childhood prevented it. “Ya sure don’t sound so sure power?” She nodded. “Well, my himself. He had played high Now he was fairly certain that he there, son.” little sister and I were driving school basketball for four years had outgrown his allergies and “Adopt.” This time with more down to get a generator from my just to prove a point to his absolutely certain that he needed confidence. uncle, and it was still thundering cousin—who lived two hundred a puppy. “Fill this out,” Ellie said. Weeping Angel and lighting, and she was driv- miles away. He hated basketball, The brakes on Peter’s She slid a pink form across the ing… .” At this point his voice Kristen Conguista but his cousin sure wasn’t going battered Toyota Corolla counter to him and took a seat in started to crack. “And I guess Photograph to find out. He was the same announced his presence as he swivel chair that squeaked more we just didn’t see the tree that way with mushrooms. On a date squealed to a stop in the flat than his car’s brakes. Peter could had fallen across the road… and sinking faster than the Titanic, gravel parking lot in the rear of feel her sizing him up as he filled Peter didn’t know where instinct was to assume that it then she swerved… and the car he had told a girl that he didn’t the county rescue shelter. He out his basic information. He he was going. He just drove. was him, but then he checked flipped… and I woke up in an like mushrooms, just so they had glanced in the rear-view mirror, became more conscious of his Sometimes he felt this was more himself. He wasn’t crying. The ambulance and… she… she… something in common. There his sunken steel eyes daring him hunched shoulders, un-combed therapeutic than therapy, driv- sound was coming from the just wasn’t there.” Ellie’s face had never been a second date, to stare back, before reaching hair, stained hoodie, and the fact ing with the passenger window rosebush. hadn’t changed. “It’s all my fault! but since then he never ordered down and pulling the emergency that a five o’clock shadow was down, radio off, and one hand on Peter edged his way around She shouldn’t have been driving, entrées with mushrooms. This brake. As he trudged into the working its way up his face even the steering wheel and the other the bush, and froze. Lying on hell, we shouldn’t have been out was not a problem anymore. He door an electronic chime greeted though it was 11:00 am. When he clutching the emergency brake. its side in the grass was a dirty, in that weather at all, but I let her hardly left his studio apartment him before a raspy voice from handed the semi-completed form After an hour he decided to head white and gray puppy. He began convince me and—” and had fallen out of touch will behind a reinforced window back to her, she held it at arm’s to the little country cemetery he to size her up when he saw her “Stop that this instant! I nearly all his friends. Peter had in the back called, “Be right length and peered at it down knew all too well. Within ten back left leg had an extra bend won’t hear of it.” She paused. “I been checked out of the “real wichya, baby.” her nose, as if she were wearing minutes he was in the farthest that should not have been there. understand why you’re here, but world” for a little over a year. A little woman came out glasses. back plot, kneeling beside the She whimpered as he inched his I’m ’fraid I ain’t got nothing for He hadn’t eaten for one week of the back wearing steel-toed “Peter, huh?” rose bush that stated to creep way closer to her refuge beneath ya. I really wish I could help… .” after it happened. He wasn’t boots, worn khaki Dickies work “Yes, ma’am, I mean, Ms. toward the smooth quartz the thorns. He gingerly lifted Peter stood there for a few allowed to live by himself until pants, a blue button up with Ellie.” stone with a lily carved above her into his hoodie and marched seconds after her voice trailed three months had passed. He the sleeves rolled up above the “Ain’t no Miss in it, either. the name Grace Lily Greene. back to the car with a new off. He couldn’t believe it. All spent three hours a week sitting elbow, and a name patch sewn Just plain ol’ Ellie ’ll do just fine He didn’t say anything, didn’t purpose. this way, all this convincing, on an over-fluffed couch in a onto the left breast-pocket that for me, thank you very much.” adjust the flowers he meticu- He drove to the animal shel- debating, arguing, anguishing, stuffy room, talking to a bald- read Eleanor stitched in cursive. She put a little emphasis on lously placed on the grave every ter, this time with one hand on and he didn’t have a chance. He ing Indian. His therapist, Dr. Her wiry gray hair was in a the last thank you part. “Now, Tuesday, didn’t think; he just sat. the steering wheel and one hand turned on his heel and marched Kruthrapali, tended to peer over tight ponytail and a cigarette before I let you see my babies, Eventually the call of a cradling the puppy. back out to his car. He fumbled his frameless narrow lenses was tucked behind her right ear, how’s about you tell me why mocking bird brought him back Three hours, a cast, two with his keys for a second, whenever Peter wouldn’t talk. disregarding the NO SMOKING you really here. I sure wasn’t to his senses. He didn’t know parasite shots, a bath, and a meal before regaining his composure This happened often, and, as signs plastered all over the wall. born yesterday an’ I know you how much time had passed. He later, the puppy was sleeping and and pulling back out on the high- a result, Peter felt his therapy “You here to volunteer or suffrin’ from somethin’, so tell was content to listen. A steady Peter began to fill out another way. Ellie watched him from hadn’t gone anywhere. That’s adopt?” me what it is so we can get on whimper drifted through his adoption form. In the blank he the window, a handkerchief held why, on the anniversary of the “Ma’am?” wit this bidness.” consciousness. Peter’s first wrote “Lily.” s 36 limply in her right hand. 37 A Pariah’s Travelogue Rachel Jones Honorable Mention—Essay Competition Jack White Shreya Gunapati he air on Summit Street intersection with the bridge. On casual dealings, addiction feed- Best in Show Tseems to be an entity its the corner, a rusty gas station ings, selfish abandonments, acts Pen and Sharpie own. Somewhere between the sits and watches. This gas station of blind passion. It’s all a stark bar and the liquor store the air screams “old South” with its contrast to my dreams of mini- gets heavier. It’s always thick one gas pump and the toothless mansions, picket fences, endless with the odor of grass, oil, and attendant, who waits in his love, and green pastures. A look I’ll never forget my first old men who are too drunk to tattered overalls. It’s obvious that at this street leaves me with little night out with my best friend. remember how bad their knees the station used to be a shed. hope that stability and content- Caleb was about my height and are. Summit Street in McComb, To an eye like mine, Summit ment even exist. had long, straight brown hair. I Mississippi, is the long stretch Street houses enticing buildings. But somewhere in the air had never been to Applebee’s, that leads me to my neighbor- Near the street’s entrance the old I find rejuvenation. Amongst so his plan was to pick me up hood which is one of the many barber shop rests with its faded thieves and outcasts, I feel my and buy me dinner. I remember “projects” that branches from title “Afro City” and its ancient burdens carried away in the I threw on a “McComb Tigers” this center. This compilation poster encouraging protest breeze. Sometimes I’ll slip out hoodie and jumped into his of pavement and tar serves against oppression. Farther the back door while the moon truck. He said, “I told my dad as the core to a mass of bleak down, the abandoned apartments floods the city with light and where I was going. He asked me depression, which, against stand, decorated with graffiti wander until I’m ready to return not to.” I tried to hold it in, but my will, I’m a part of. Often, on their boarded windows. Even home. Shadows watch over me. shame crept onto my face. “I told Mother’s Memories I need a ride home, and when farther down, the laundry-matt Underneath yellow lights, wisps him I’d be fine.” Elise Cannon the drivers ask where I live, I holds its ground with its box tv of foul smoke blow past me, and I can’t help it. Summit Street Honorable Mention—Poetry Competition has been my home for eighteen whisper, “Community Parks,” and squeaky, rolling laundry my heart adopts an abnormal and they ask, “On Summit baskets. The only one I’ve ever thump, yet I’m not afraid. The years and I’ve grown into it. She furrows her brows and tries Street?” Regret blossoms on entered is the laundry-matt. The same weary eyes that make me Here, I’ve felt alone and ostra- To recollect events of years past. their faces. On porches, babies buildings resemble a dump, but cautious during the day become cized. I’ve felt targeted and Her voice recalls its Southern twang squeal and fidget in rancid they hold an authenticity that my protectors at night. I’m sewn afraid. Yet, also here, I’ve felt As she re-lives the bits that remain with her. diapers. Stained whiskey bottle nothing can forge. Every man into their quilt of wanderers and safe. I’ve felt free to think and shards and shreds of candy and woman who’s marched, become my own person. My see what I often don’t dare to I wasn’t there the Christmas wrappers collect in the brown protested, and cried down this theory is that the air is heavy look at. I know it’s an area to Santa left Aunt Lynn coal, grass. Even with a picturesque street has left their passions on with the confessions of so many evade for those who know where Nor seen Pepaw strike a rabbit’s head, cerulean sky, a grimy ambi- the floors and in the walls of lost souls. they’re going, but for those of us Telling Mama to stop her hollerin’ Because it was part of life. ance still lingers and it seems these buildings, giving them Summit Street oozes history already here the future remains to find its way into the wan personality. and serves as a shelter for the murky. I’ll maintain my love- But I can see the images in my mind: faces that litter my trail home. My mother has ordered me to lost; however, it also holds a hate relationship with Summit Mama’s embarrassment in high school Three ways are available never walk down Summit Street reputation. It’s surrounded by Street and my neighborhood that When she was nominated “Most Beautiful” juts out from it like a tumor. It’s to enter Summit Street— alone. However, she is unaware three separate public housing As a joke, and her joy when Daddy got on one knee. beneath the bridge or on one of its lure. I’ve never hoped to complexes and it’s infested with been a rest stop for those gone astray, but for me, it’s a road of the two streets that make an see what I’ve set eyes upon there: cheap night clubs. She tells details I remember for years, home. s 38 But she forgets all the next day. 39 Vampires Desiree Carpenter (Based on a true story) Center Stage id you know that her friend would be hunched with vampires. Sara didn’t know called out from behind her, the Michael McDonald “Dvampires have to over the computer at her desk, what else to think at this point. voice of the vampire herself. untie any knots they come eyes alight with both the glow of Were there even any vampires in “Sara! Come back here!” across before they can attack the screen and the knowledge she Mississippi? If so, they probably Melissa walked towards Sara, Thunder rolls and lighting clashes, someone?” Melissa sat on the was gathering on her horrendous would’ve been from Melissa’s who pressed herself against the Shining flashes of light through the window. flowery comforter atop Sara’s topic. hometown. wall in response. “Would you My tiny eyes peer through the glass pane, dorm bed and fiddled with Sara had wanted to say When she saw Sara’s wide- quit being ridiculous? I’m not a Trying to get a glimpse of the storm. her tangled headphones. something when this weird eyed expression, Melissa laughed vampire!” “Uhh, no.” Sara scrunched event first occurred, but she in a low, ominous voice. “Well, “But you kept looking up all Twigs leap and trees dance, up her face in response to her didn’t know how to word it. In you know I must have been this stuff about them, and you A mixture of leaves, dirt, and rocks friend and suitemate’s random addition, the idea of offending researching them for a reason.” were doing vampire-y stuff, and Dim the light that manages to shine through statement. “Why would I need to someone she would be living She paused, as if to think. “And I you have sharp teeth… .” The The darkened clouds hovering above my home. know that?” with and seeing every day for do have some pretty sharp teeth,” terrified girl’s voice faded out as “Just a random fact of the the rest of her school year terri- she added with a grin. she realized how pitiful her argu- I gaze out the foggy glass at the ballet night. They also have to count all fied her. But Sara couldn’t take it Sara started to back away, ment sounded out loud. Of ultimate destruction. the seats in a room. By the way, anymore; this was just going too but Melissa kept talking. “Better “Seriously? It’s almost The trees sway in sync and twigs fly, why do you have three chairs in far. She had no explanation for watch out, Sara! I might get you Halloween. I was just trying to Prancing to the howl of the wind, the rhythm of the rain. here?” Melissa’s weird behavior, except too!” get into the spirit. And I thought Sara’s eyes widened and one idea that sat in the back of That was all it took. Vampire you were kidding when you said I watch as droplets smash against the glass she pulled her sweater tighter her mind. or not, Melissa went too far, and that, so I went along with it! Now And leaves plunge to the ground. around her waist. It was a little “Hey, Mel, what’s up with something snapped in Sara’s come on, we have to get back to Then the sounds and dance slow to adagio. after ten on a cool night in you and vampires lately?” mind. She let out a shriek before our rooms for room check.” mid-October, and she had only “Why, does it scare you?” spinning around and bolting Room check. That’s right, The trees take one last bow, started attending MSMS, her Melissa looked up from the straight out her door and down Sara forgot all about that. The twigs take a finishing leap for the coda, state’s fancy residential school, tangled mess in her hands and at the hallway. Eyes followed her Everyone had to step out of their Bright lights appear through the clouds, three months ago. Back when her friend. through the hall, the lobby, and rooms before 10:30 to show And the ballet is at end. she first moved in, she met her “A little bit. It’s kinda the door to another, non-blood- that they were inside the build- roommate and suitemates, and sketchy.” sucking friend’s room at the end ing, which would explain why became fast friends with her “The heck? Sketchy? What, of the opposite wing. every girl in the hall was outside, suitemate Melissa in particular. you think I’m a vampire?” “Quick! What do I do if my watching her, and laughing at They had similar tastes in nearly The hairs on Sara’s neck suitemate is a vampire?” Sara her. Of course Melissa wasn’t a everything, from food to music. stood on end. She had never said panted from her sudden sprint. vampire; Sara wandered around Then the embarrassed girl hung also thought she should check But around the beginning of the that, but Melissa knew what she “What?!” laughed out a campus outside with her just her head and followed her friend her facts before accusing people current month, Melissa began had been thinking. But it’s not as couple of voices. Sara stepped the other day, in broad sunlight! back down the hallway, looking of things, and figured she might acting a little bit stranger than if she had no reasons to believe back out of the room and saw And now every girl on Sara’s like a puppy with its tail between want to work on getting what usual. As of late, she seemed to that. Since the latest weekend that everyone sat in the hallway. floor had just watched her have its legs. facts she did have straight, be fixated on vampires, Sara’s that Melissa went home, during All of them stared up at her, a freakout over nothing. Her face Sara decided that from now especially when it involved biggest fear. Whenever Sara which the two girls didn’t talk at giggling to themselves. But then felt like someone had lit it on on, she would try not to jump to vampires. s would enter Melissa’s room now, all, Melissa had been obsessed she got distracted by a voice that fire. “Let’s go,” she mumbled. conclusions quite so much. She

40 41 Listen, Look, Feel The Jokester Nikki Gary India Yarborough First Place—Poetry Competition

The skies are impatient, waiting, y dad has always had a coiled around his neck, his hands “the single finger sweat swipe” and I’ve noticed that the clouds are just subtle signs; Mjoke for just about every- guided the lights in a circle so (and if the dad got really angry, Those bright wisps of smoke beckoning, leading by example; thing. He loves to tell stories, that they made contact with each “the double finger sweat swipe”). Sun to storm, day to night too. He has always been excep- branch. All of a sudden, my The father, Bill, always sat at Starshine and raindrops alike, reminding us always to look up. tional at telling jokes and stories mom passed by, bumping the the top of the bleachers (only The earth itself is forgiving, and ever changing, willing to bear the footprints of the first one to stand. in that he builds up the story ladder, sending my dad tumbling six rows high, so he wasn’t that The first one to be brave, to roar not with voice but with action; or joke, reels you in so that you towards the ground. The string far from the field), smoking a Wind scrapes along ancient branches, the forests therein pulsing with sunlight and shaking with whispered words. half believe it, and then, boom, of lights still attached to the tree, cigarette. One night, during an The same wind making songs like old nursery rhymes, comfort to ears unaware and hearts only peering; there’s the punch line or twist. pulled on the lights that were especially poor football game, The earth is anticipation in the guise of a home. His stories range from family coiled around his neck, squeez- Bill got furious at the players events to childhood adventures ing them tighter and tighter, and flicked his cigarette towards The water we are made of is the same to destroy us; to college pranks. One particu- slipping the lights up and over the field. Back then, the football It makes up the blood that clots, the rivers that foam, the rain laced with acid, the tears paving our golden paths to lar line of ongoing jokes of his his head, pulling his hair off as coaches wore 100% polyester heartbreak. When clear, this water persuades, tucking its depths behind shining surfaces like starlight; pertains to his balding head. he fell backward and they tugged pants which were highly flam- Springs and creeks we splash through ever singing, ballads lacking words, He refers to this series of jokes upward. mable, so as you can imagine, All too easy to fall in love with, as “freak hair-loss accidents.” Whenever friends or family the cigarette floated toward the Telling us always to jump feet first. My dad started balding members talked about a danger- field, landing on the ground at shortly after college in his mid- ous event that they had endured, the feet of the head coach in Wildlife as natives, scavenger hunts abandoned, hieroglyphs we still yearn to decipher; to-late twenties. I’ve always my dad would chime in, making his 100% polyester pants. The Ancient species reaching from all sides to join in, their language all inclusive. been told that guys get their hair it a lesson in disguise, saying, coach’s pants caught on fire They speak not with words, but with paw prints, hisses, fur left caught on branches in passing. patterns from their mom’s side of “And funny you mentioned that just as my dad was leaning over They tell us of the secrets this earth keeps, but with our eyes forward, feet always moving, we are too frantic to listen, the family, so my dad’s grandfa- because I actually, unfortunately, to discuss the upcoming play, their eyes blinking in time to the heartbeats we forget to feel, telling us always to look just a little deeper. ther on his mom’s side must have lost my hair in a matter much sending a few lone sparks in the rocked the horizontal Mohawk. like that.” direction of my dad’s hair, burn- In cities and alleys, with graffiti lying like grime upon walls too much like prisons, we draft our homes. However, my dad prefers to tell Another freak hair-loss ing the hair off of the top of his We tell ourselves the world we see outside the window is beautiful, reaching to push against the glass with palms things a bit differently. accident story that he has told head. gently pressing, One story commences numerous times occurred during My dad continues to tell Though we fail to open doors to see the world with glass removed. around Christmas time and his first few years of teaching at freak hair-loss accident stories When buildings crumble and foundations rust, when Rome falls, goes like this: One year during Holy Cross High School in New and other bad jokes to this day Only then we hear the cries of things we’ve built, telling us always not to be so sure. the Christmas season, my dad Orleans, where he was also one because that’s just his way of When did the voices of earth become soundless? was decorating the Christmas of the assistant football coaches. speaking. I never know when he We talk but never speak, we are silent with the thoughts we tell ourselves not to think. tree. He put on the lights, start- One player on the team, a fresh- will strike with another hilarious Saplings grow to trees, hundreds of years elapse, before we even learn to say hello; ing at the top of the tree. Of man, had a threatening father account of the unfortunate day Our fluttering eyelids hiding eyes like blank canvases, course, to reach the peak of the who would always attend the he balded away. s Sound moving just like water over skin, reaching us through hours, and telling us always that common sense is tree, he stood on an eight-foot games. The father was famous using sense. ladder. With the string of lights for, as my dad likes to call it, 42 43 Last Resorts from the dirt and belted her Rachel Jones famous line. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever known that liked Scarlett,” Stiles said. t one point in time, Clara iar cement steps. It was cold “Sure,” he said. He slid He stood in the archway between Athought the space between that night, so Clara put on her away into the kitchen, pretend- the living room and the tiny her and Stiles was too abundant. favorite vest. It had a huge, thick ing to look for some necessity. dining room-turned-computer That’s what made her pull him hood, and if she wore it the right Everything was on computers room. His hands were crossed close; she thought it was possible way, it was hard to tell if she was now. How many fast food joints across his chest. to mesh two of their atoms a girl or a boy. This is my last even checked their online appli- “She’s just a goal-oriented into one. Maybe she could sew option . cations, though? But, it was person. I like her,” Clara said. his calloused, pink fingers to The best way to go up those worth a try. Someone, anyone, Her face remained glued to the her soft, brown ones. The goal steps was one at a time. One. in her house (apartment) needed computer screen. Of course, was to minimize space. But as Two. The house hummed with a job. The government didn’t she saw his silhouette standing she stood at his door, she now soft, welcoming glow, and this care who paid the rent. Maybe in front of her and then glid- wanted mountains, cities, and time he was alone. But Clara saw McDonald’s wasn’t as bad as ing around to her shoulder. His whole layers of atmosphere to the cans on the coffee table and she thought it was. There may aimless pacing dug into her mind separate them. Her clammy the pair of shoes in the corner. have been a secret satisfaction like fingernails into skin. Her hands rolled the door knob. He They weren’t his; they were a in handing off piles of diabe- mind flipped and drifted to her never locked the front door; pair of knee-high leather boots tes to innocent people. Every physics book she left sprawled it made it easier for people to with a modest heel. People had day could be like an adventure open on her bed. She hated slip- Hannibal Lector Mask come and go. That way, he been there and they’d be back. where she delved into a new ping out and abandoning it at Stearman McCalister didn’t have to leave the piercing He sat in the usual chair, the one world. Then, with enough effort night. But, the book could wait. Third Place – Sculpture Competition light of his computer screen. from the dining table. It creaked and false enthusiasm, she’d have It was almost time to leave. The Ceramic Perhaps if the city they under his shifting weight. He enough paychecks to get her sun would be rising soon and she claimed was not so small, looked up and let one side of own computer. She only heard needed to wake up in her bed Clara could be far enough his mouth slide up. Never a full her mother’s laughter from like the rest of her family. She away. Despite her despera- smile as a greeting. Now, the air earlier that day. How can she still needed to give the illusion that tion, McComb remained as tiny between them was heavy and the laugh? Clara wondered if she everything was okay and that she and compact as the day it was awkward space lingered like a was tired of stealing toilet paper could sleep through the night. founded. In McComb, trees were stray cat—unwanted. “You said from the public library for their “I’m done,” Clara whispered. kept to a minimum and every- I could use your computer,” she bathroom. But the vision of her Stiles had sauntered to the living one kept a Bible at home—even whispered. She craned her neck sitting on the couch, worriless, room and was resting with his wait for him to roll onto his feet. door knob of her home, her atheists. SUVs and blue collars left and right to catch glimpses verified that Clara’s mother was feet on the arm of the couch She made sure to leave the door fingers were numb. But, the milled back and forth during of the living room she missed, not stressed. She didn’t worry across from the television. His behind her the way she found lights were still out and she the day, while mutts and pariahs and her fingers twirled around in about where food came from or eyes popped opened to the sound it—closed. She made her way heard her mother’s soft snore littered the night. But it was still her pocket, searching for traces who paid rent. of her voice, but he remained back through the dimly lit streets down the hall. It’ll be okay .She best to travel by foot at night— of patience. He ran his fingers Two applications down, on the couch. He stretched and as the sun began to lurk over the crept back into her bed and let no tracks were left. If the city through his hair, making sure to one to go .The television screen jerked like a cat awaking from horizon. It’ll be okay .Her breath her chest fall, releasing a sigh was too wide or too long for her start at his forehead and expose glowed with Gone with the a nap. Clara almost expected wafted up through the thick air of exhaustion. She tried to push to walk across, she wouldn’t his whole face. That used to be Wind in the background. Scarlet him to lick the back of his hand into a puff of white smoke. every thought out with the sigh. have made it there to the famil- appealing. O’Hara had just dug a carrot and rub his head. She didn’t By the time she turned the Then she let her eyes close. s 44 45 It’s Full of Stars A Hypothesis: We Are Not Listening Properly Joseph Messer Astrobiologists search for Carriere, Mississippi, 2013 While debating his fellow Dr. Frank Drake, a man who the unknowable. They move or the last week news scientists on a lunch break, believed in the power of math- through mysterious and unex- Fbroadcasters have reported Enrico Fermi, a physicist and ematics and science, deduced plored space, explorers searching the date for the Orionid meteor practiced questioner, asked, what no one on Earth knew for for something sublime. Today, shower. On the predicted night “Where is everybody?” certain: the existence of extrater- scientists think they will find I wait outside to be a witness. Everyone understood the restrial life. Working with other it. They know more than ever Looking through the lens of a question, but no one knew the scientists in the field, he created before. They clutch radio tele- telescope, I see the inside of the answer. a laundry list of all the factors scopes, observe patterns in barrel. I blink. My eyes water. A paradox arose between involved in life. With life so distant emissions, and watch I fiddle with the focus until facts and evidence. Fermi mathematically defined—each wavelength chatter, hoping to both eyes are blind, and then, recalled the facts. One hundred concept reduced to a variable, discover a special message, Photo 1-6 slowly, I learn how to see again. and seventy billion galaxies representing an attempt to quan- maybe as much as Hello, Liyah Smith migrate through the universe. tify not only the sky and the A spray of stars shimmers Goodbye, or It’s better on this Third Place – Drawing Competition in the night sky. Suddenly the Four hundred billion stars fill the stars, but also the greater extent side of the universe. Pencil and Graphite shower begins. My brain’s right Milky Way with an estimated of the universe—Drake created Unless silence is a message half sees each meteor as a space- sixty billion habitable exoplanets, an equation: in itself, nothing has been heard. we hear is static buzzing through we are and what we are not— ship, zooming past, while my most crowding around red dwarf Day by day humanity’s part in space. what is termed alien. The aliens stars. The universe turns 13.8 From∗ equation to solution the universe seems more like brain’s left half knows that each 𝑁𝑁𝑁𝑁 𝑁𝑁 × 𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 ×𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 ×𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 ×𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 ×𝐿𝐿𝐿 To hear extraterrestrial life, are different, if only on the meteor is a piece of cosmic billion years old while human the thinking man takes a leap of a fluke. The alternative is that we may have to sit still, stay outside: some are green, others debris, entering Earth’s atmo- beings began 200,000 years ago, faith. In Calculus II my teacher humans are the only beings in silent, and hope for news to black, brown, or pale white. sphere, fighting friction, and a blink of the cosmic eye. scribbles the fundamental the universe making any logical come. If I don’t blink, I might My Hispanic friends pile out making heat. Accounting for the sheer theorem of calculus on the chalk- sense - who could believe it? see a star man. Maybe he is not of a broken-down minivan onto For a moment, I am a part of immensity of our universe in board. The equation (only if the Some scientists hypoth- here tonight, but perhaps he will the soccer fields every Tuesday something bigger than myself. which Earth is an infinitesimal function is continuous) bridges esize that since humans have be here tomorrow. And if a star night. “Illegal aliens,” some I feel connected to everyone part, probability suggests that the integral and the derivative, not heard alien communication man does suddenly step out from whisper. We pass the soccer ball who looks up at the sky tonight. life must exist elsewhere. Cosmic guaranteeing an antiderivative a problem exists in the human the asteroid dust, his fingers between us. Together we shout Like all moments, this moment waves, however, bring back only and, with a defined range, a solu- capability to listen. Our technol- splayed in a “V,” what would “Goal!” the ball rippling the net. passes, leaving me humbled silence. tion. Given a continuous and ogy may be inadequate. Current change? Maybe some deep If they are different, I do not and bewildered—more or less National Radio Astronomy expanding universe, I wonder radio searches skip over highly human mystery will complete notice. human. I am left to wonder: Observatory, Green Bank, if Drake’s equation can bridge compressed data streams and fail itself; perhaps people will panic; I believe that deep down What’s out there? West Virginia, 1961 the distance between two stars, to recognize gamma rays. or humans everywhere might everyone is similar in that every- between Earth and Mars, or Aliens might be out there, Los Alamos National Years passed, and still the simply feel bewildered, their one wants to believe that he between what scientists know attempting to speak to us. Their Laboratory, 1950 question of alien life—predicted confidence broken. or she is special in the whole and want to know. Can it guaran- voices travel though crests and by the sheer heft of reason— A Second Hypothesis: of outer space. In the wide Asking questions that do tee the existence of aliens? troughs along a wavelength, remained unrealized. Scientists They’re Here Unobserved universe, however, unique- not have clear answers, scien- Drake, at least, believed so. but humans cannot find their ness is rare. Instead of drawing and mathematicians clamored to Proud of our perceived place tists at the Los Alamos National By his estimate one thousand frequency. Somewhere between differences, I try to accept the prove the certainty of extrater- in the universe, humans like to Laboratory took the first, crucial civilizations (if not more) should them and us, humanity drops similarities that connect every- restrial life, scribbling equations draw borders. We divide along steps into unknown territory, and exist in our galaxy. Ours is only the connection. On the receiving one else with me. Mi casa es tu and deriving solutions. the atmosphere, choosing what no territory was more unknown one of them. end of our radio telescopes, all casa. After all, aliens could call than the universe. 46 47 Earth home. They could live a brightness only dimmed special instance, each meteor The Real Reason here, right now, unnoticed—no by my own sense of growing influences another—through Jena Dees different from you or me. insignificance. If life fills the magnetism, attraction, or Carriere, Mississippi, 2013 universe like meteors fill the repulsion—as each human in lara couldn’t think straight. I-I-I just don’t have the time.” It concentrate on her pale-blue sky during a shower, our lives his or her life can reach across She looked down, watching seemed like an eternity before Converse. Her eyes instead bore I stand witness to infinite C would seem infinitesimal in space and affect another, as her two pale-blue Converse step Coach Scott responded. down into her stomach, which variations of light on my retinas, comparison. However in a aliens might be doing, tapping us across the black and white tiled Looking Clara straight in the was already poking out a bit. on the heads, unnoticed, as we floor of Myers High School’s eye, Coach Scott sullenly said, “You . You’re the real reason I speak. hallway. It was a quarter past “Clara, I know you are smit- had to quit.” The meteors have dispersed four, and the halls were empty. ten with that boy, but basketball Clara realized that this baby Treasure Hunting into the ionosphere. For now The rest of Clara’s peers had has always been your dream. I would also be the reason for bolted out the big red doors to cannot believe you would give many more meetings: telling her Adina Harri there are still stars, but soon, with dawn, reality will resume. the senior parking lot after 8th it up to spend more time with parents, telling her boyfriend, period. Clara, however, had him.” consulting a doctor. As she I will find it hard to look away I comb through the labyrinth of Rome, a 4:30 meeting with Coach Despite Coach Scott’s harsh walked out the doors of Myers from a view of the world I could Feet pounding on stone-cobbled streets, Scott. Coach Scott had no idea assumption, Clara left the meet- High School, Clara wondered not previously have guessed. If Heart beating, what it was about, and Clara ing relieved. “If only she knew how much longer she would be no extraterrestrial being ever Palms sweating. wished she didn’t either. the real reason I had to quit,” able to call the school hers. “Will answers our radio call, then the The pale-blue Converse Clara thought, looking down the baby also be the reason I I can taste victory on the tip of my tongue, search for other life will not stopped. Clara looked up and once again. This time, as she have to drop out of high school?” Tangible as the smell of roasted pizza nearby. have been fruitless. The range of saw what she had been dreading looked down, Clara did not she asked herself. s answers inspired by the Drake to see: a door with a sign read- Skidding into a sharp left, Equation and Fermi’s Paradox ing “Melissa Scott, Coach of the I nearly collide into a moped challenges each person to reflect Lady Myers Jaguars.” “Suck it Laden with crates from the morning market. on his place in this world and, up, Clara,” she mumbled under beyond, in the universe. her breath. She knocked on her Gazing past the sea of faces, Above me float the icy rings basketball coach’s door. Clara Over the tips of heads, of Saturn, Earth’s moon, and the heard the familiar voice thick Through the chatting crowd, unknown all around me. In the with a New Jersey accent tell her to come in. I discover the treasured sign: pre-morning silence, I reflect “I’ve been expecting you,” Gelateria. on my place in the universe. I Coach Scott continued, “Now, I think that my life may be the know you are probably here to Running up the steps I ask the vendor, result of a chance occurrence speak with me about why you “Straciatella, please.” in the greater scheme of cosmic are not playing starting forward “Stracia-TE-lla,” she tells me, evolution. The result of one cell in the game against Cornwall, Exchanging gold pieces for my treasure. evolving to laugh, to love, and but let me tell you, I’ve got the to think, human life, itself, may best plan. Just—“ I dive into the creamy goodness, turn out to be a gift from the “Wait,” Clara said. She The Edge Engulfed in utter chocolate bliss. universe, something to be cher- couldn’t let Coach Scott go on Nick Elder Straciatella. ished, a one-time thing, like an like this. “Quick and easy,” she Honorable Mention – Photography Competition unexpected epiphany during a told herself, “Like a Band-Aid.” Photograph meteor shower. s “Coach Scott,” Clara took a big breath, “I’m actually here because I need to let you know that I am quitting the team. 48 49 Southern VoicesContributors’ • Volume XXVI Notes • Spring, 2014

Ross Berry Staff(Wiggins) Ross believes that “Happiness is Circus, by ErinJudges Morgenstern. She plans to work in the fields of Christina Legradi (Hattiesburg) “The only way to enter a word to describe. It is intangible, a passion, a way of thought, a when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in wildlife conservation and art. new universe while still living is by reading a book,” Christina way to live—it is a mesmerizing ideal.” harmony.” If he could be born in another decade, it would be says. She lives by the assertion, “The jungle is dark but full the 1920s, whereEditor he could meet poet Langston Hughes. Ross’sArt JudgesErin Graves (Caledonia) Erin would Poetrylike to meet Judge Robert of diamonds,” from Death of a Salesman. Her favorite book is Liyah Smith (Meridian) states that art is “what I’m all about hero is hisJoseph father becauseMesser he “shows me the lifeMs. I wantPatti to Johnson live Downey,from Columbus, Jr. She lives by the motto,Dr. Kendall “If you never Dunkelberg ask, you will is Little Women. She plans to study pre-dentistry at UAB and also besides food.” If she could be born in another decade, Liyah when I get older.” Mississippi, is an artistnever receive. working If you in neverProfessor practice, you of willEnglish never getand better.” Director to follow her passion for photography. would choose the 1970s. She strives to “pray for the best while Art Editor She plans to become an animator for DreamWorks. preparing for the worst.” Her favorite book is The Hobbit, and watercolor, oils, sculpture, ceramics, of Creative Writing at Mississippi Quinn Massengill (Hickory Flat) “Reading teaches us about she finds a hero in her little sister. Kay BurnsideAdina (Carthage) Harri gleans inspiration fromand mixedVincent media. She is a current University for Women. He is Van Gogh and Lil Wayne, who says, “I got ice in my veins, Tylicia Grove (Morton) “Art is the beauty you can see; writ- the world. Writing teaches us about ourselves,” Quinn says. blood in my eyes; / Hate in my Heart, love inmember my mind.” of To Rosenzweig her, ing is emotion,Art Center’s memories, andthe thoughts author on of a page,”Time TyliciaCapsules The best book he has ever read is The City of Lost Souls by Stephanie Smith (Columbus) lives by the words, “If at first Assistant Editors Gallery 2 and has over forty years of (Texas Review Press, 2009), Cassandra Clare. He shapes his life by a passage from Alice you don’t succeed, try, try again.” If she could meet anyone, she “without Eliseart the Cannonworld would be a dull place of uniformity.” says. Her mother is her hero because she never ceases to Kay plans to help children as a social worker, and longsexperience for the inamaze studio Tylicia. art. She plans to Landscapesattend the University and Architectures of Southern in Wonderland: “‘This is Impossible,’ said Alice. ‘Only if you would choose her grandfather, who passed away before she was superpowerQuinn of flight.Massengill Mississippi, taking both (Floridapre-med and Literary writing courses.Foundation Press, believe it is,’ replied the Mad Hatter.” born. Her favorite book is The Hollow Kingdom, and she plans to devote her life to children as a pediatrician. Assistant Art Editor Ms. Rebecca McGavock is an 2001), and Hercules, Richelieu, Stearman McCalister (Corinth) Stearman lives by the words, Elise Cannon (Byram) Elise’s heroes are herEducation father, mother, VISTA memberShreya Gunapati working (Flowood) and Shreya Nostradamus: lives by Walt Translations Whitman’s and brotherNick because Elder they overcame things in their paths instead words, “Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good- “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not Olivia Spires (Hernando) believes that “by expressing your- of running away. She believes writing is somethingwith thethat cannotColumbus fortune.” Arts Council. If she could meetof anyone, Poems she by would Paul choose Snoek J. (GreenK. fail?” His favorite book is The Giver. About creativity, he says, self, you get to know yourself.” Her defining quotation advises be wrong.Photographer Elise plans to do something with music,A member something of the MississippiRowling. For her,State art has always Integerbeen her sanctuary.Press, 2000). “Psychologists say that art helps best with depression.” He to “love all, trust a few, do harm to none.” Authors Elizabeth that helps people.Nick Elder“Ultimately,” she says, “I’mCommittee trying to follow of the National Museum plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist. Gilbert and Valentine Michael Smith inspire Olivia. If she could have a superpower, hers would be teleportation. God’s plan for me.” of Women in theRhiannon Arts, she Hancock has (Rosedale) ShortRhiannon Story is afraid Judge of how Staff Members dull the world would be without art. Her favorite book is Michael McDonald (Lucedale) “Creativity is the courage to exhibited in multiple galleries in Mrs. Jane Nickerson is the author express yourself,” Michael says. His favorite book is Oliver Chase Velotas (Meridian) Chase lives by Dr. Seuss’s admoni- Claire CaprioJena (Starkville) Dees Claire lives by the motto, “Claire Where the Sidewalk Ends. She plans to travel, change lives, Mississippi since her early teens. of Strands of Bronze and Gold Twist by Charles Dickens. He lives by Bill Cosby’s words, “In tion, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those don’t care.”Robyn The works Galvan of Claude Monet influence Claire. If she and spread the Word. could have a superpower, she would want to fly. (2013) and The Mirk and Midnight order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” He Quenton Gilmore your fear of failure. Michael plans to major in neurology and believes that creativity is the “truest form of communication,” Essay JudgeAdina Harri (Starkville) AdinaHour lives (2014), by the both motto, Young “Never, Adult Erin Graves minor in journalism. and is inspired by the humility found in Bill Gates’ life. If Desiree Carpenter (Bay St. Louis) Desiree’s favoriteDr. Kelly book Marsh is ever,is an ever Associate quit.” She believesbooks that art published gives you bysomething Knopf. to Mrs. A ClockworkTylicia Orange Grove. She lives by the quotation, “Never take hold on to when everything around you spins into chaos. Her he had a superpower, he would want to understand and speak Professor of English at Mississippi Nickerson knows MSMS well; Michael McMillan (Long Beach) gains his inspiration from any language. His favorite book is Hitchhiker’s Guide to the life seriously.Kristin Nobody Howitt gets out alive anyway.” Desiree plans to favorite book is The House of the Scorpion. If Adina could State University where she four of her children are MSMS Mother Teresa, who states, “Life is a dream, realize it.” If Galaxy. attend ChamplainTristan Johnston College to study creative media. meet anyone it would be the soccer star of Uruguay, Diego teaches courses onForlán. the twentieth- As far as future plans,graduates: she “just wantsJames to (’98),help people.” Bethany he could be born in another decade, it would be the 1940s. Rachel Jones Michael wishes to have the superpower to “duplicate” himself. Candace Wheeler (Carrollton) Candace says that art “soothes Lauren Chatelain (Kiln) “For me, art is one ofcentury my favorite British and Irish novel, (’03 ), Phillip (’05), and Stella (’08). Monica Kala He plans to become a chief strategic officer. the soul.” Her most influential artist is Thomas Kinkade, and outlets,” Lauren says. She would like to meet twentieth-centuryMaya Angelou. If Mary Irish Frances literature, Holland (Lucedale) Mary lives by the admoni- she hadAshytyn a superpower, McAdams she would shape shift. tion, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because people if she could meet anyone, it would be the English poet John contemporary literature, women’s Joseph Messer (Carriere) “To write, you must first have the Milton. Her favorite book is A Great and Terrible Beauty, and Michael McDonald who mind don’t matter and people who matter don’t mind.” She literature, literature and film, courage to be vulnerable,” Joseph says. His favorite book is A she finds a hero in her sister Lydia. Kristen SabrinaConguista Moore (Flowood) Kristen’s hero is her dad because believes that artists have the clearest view of the world. Her and others. Faculty Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. he showedMadhav her the world Nallani of reading and taught her that it’s okay favorite book is Hold Still by Nina LaCour. If she had a super- to have her own opinion. If she could meet anyone, it would be power, she would be able to transform into any animal. He lives by David Foster Wallace’s assertion that “The really Hayley White (Taylorsville) Hayley strives to paint a living LeonardoVictoria Da Vinci. Norton She wants to go into the world of computer important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness image of Audrey Hepburn’s words, “I believe in pink . . . I science becauseBrendan it requires Ryan applying creativity to logic andPhotography strategy. Conor Judge Hultman (Ecru) Conor livesArt by Contest Joseph Heller’s Faculty words, and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people believe in overdressing . . . I believe that happy girls are the Delisia Wicks Ms. Stacy Clark serves“I want as to editorkeep my of dreams, even bad Coordinatorones, because without and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy prettiest girls . . . I believe in miracles.” Hayley credits her ways every day.” Joseph plans to attend Deep Springs College parents as her heroes for their unwavering support of her Jena DeesIndia (Columbus) Yarborough Jena lives by the wordsCatfish of Mark Alley Twain:, a quarterlythem, I might magazine have nothing all night long.”Angie He saysJones that “If you “Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.” To Jena, write long enough with enough passion, you’re bound to write for two years and complete his studies in English literature at educational endeavors, which she plans to continue by majoring Chandra Yarlagadda published in Columbus, Mississippi, either Stanford University or Oxford University. in biochemistry. art is “comfort when I am upset, as well as my thatwakeup is “a call gathering something place forgood.” the If he could have any superpower, he would when I am too far in my comfort zone.” She would like to go want to do all of his homework on time.Faculty One day, Advisor he wants to Cover Art words and images that paint an into international business and travel. become a writer. Sabrina Moore (Starkville) Sabrina lives by the belief, Abigail Wippel (Hernando) finds inspiration in Jane Austen’s Kay Burnside authentic, compelling portrait of life Emma Richardson “Everything happens for a reason.” She would love to meet assertion, “Our scars let us know that our past is for real.” Camille DentSerious (Jackson) Soul Camille would like to meet Sherlockin today’s John South.” Johnson (Greenville) John believes “art should be Queen Elizabeth I. Her favorite book is Pride and Prejudice. Her hero is her father, who showed her that “success could be Holmes. ChaseShe lives Velotas by the words, “Courage is the magic that thought provoking,” that “every decade holds its own Her dad is her hero because he’s the kind of person she wants achieved through hard work and determination.” Abigail plans to be when she grows up. She plans to major in biomedical to work for the FBI as a forensic anthropologist. turns dreamsCold into Stare reality.” Camille dreams of one day becom- problems,” and that he would like to have Superman’s ing a high school English teacher. superpower—whatever it is. He hopes to become an anesthesi- engineering. Candace Wheeler India Yarborough (Columbus) lives by words from Harper

ologist—and an artist. 2014 Window Brendan Ryan (Diamondhead) “If you don’t have an idea, take Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird: “You never really understand a Nick Elder (Starkville) When reflecting on art, Nick states that “It’s a meansHayley of escape—for White both the artist and viewer.” Nick Rachel Jones (McComb) Rachel lives by Childish Gambino’s a shower,” Brendan says. He lives by Yoko Ono’s words—made person until you consider things from his point of view . . . would likeEye to meetof the Jeremy Tiger Clarkson. He plans to work toward a verse, “If Biggie can make it through it, man then I can.” She famous by John Lennon—that “A dream you dream alone is until you climb inside his skin and walk around in it.” If born researchAbigail career in Wippelgenetics. says, “I think writing is the best therapy in the world to turn only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.” His in another decade, India would like to have been a child of the favorite book is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. 60’s because she feels as if “there was so much to fight for.” Eyes of Jade your worries and thoughts into beauty.” Rachel plans to learn Nikki Gary (Lucedale) Nikki lives by the motto, “Work until two more languages, travel the world, and become a doctor. India aspires to become a journalist. your idols become your rivals.” Her favorite book is The Night Vikram Sachdeva (Jackson) The defining quotation in Vik’s Cover Design life is “So it goes.” If he had a superpower, he would want to Nick Elder control the subconscious. “Creativity,” he says, “is not a simple 50 Adina Harri

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