Gladstone Review 2013
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Gladstone Review 2013 Welcome to this year’s edition of the Gladstone Review. Previous editions have used this page to impress upon the reader the importance of writing, reading, and the joy that can result. This year, however, is different. This past summer, the Gladstone community experienced a loss with the passing of Larry Killick, a consummate professional, supportive colleague, and exceptional English teacher. We dedicate this year’s anthology to Larry: you are gone and cool air in August proliferates yellow edged leaves reds come on beans done squash winds the garden under green cover bulbous and orange the light is lower at suppertime like wildflower honey on the table and still you are gone . 2 Over-All Winner: Kevin Ta, Grade 11 The Metal Man The analog clock, a relic in the modern age, ticked carelessly away in the background. The room it was in was simple, adorned with a reclined white chair and a smooth round table that stood in the corner. The room was illuminated by a soft glow that penetrated the walls, conforming to a uniformly sleek motif. The air was sterile. The sobriety focused itself on the sitting adolescent. With his left eye closed, his thoughts swirled and surged in a depth of uncertainty. His right eye stared outward indifferently, the overlaying glass scales detecting the pale glow of light and the subtle heat emitted from his body. His head rested upon his cold, mechanical right hand while his left hand tapped away on his knee cap. His messy black hair faced the lone closed door, while his heart beat to the tick of the clock. “Who am I?” he asked himself uncertainly. Apprehension had taken hold over his body, or at least the parts that remained flesh and blood. He was sixty percent inorganic by mass, a statistic that derived from his three replacement limbs and the myriad of nano-drones inside his body. His lightweight carbon-based limbs were stronger and more sensitive than normal humans. By definition, he was a cyborg, a modified human. But despite the mechanical advantages, there was constant ostracism and prejudice that ate at his soul. It was killing him. It was killing him physically too. The nano-drones worked his cells relentlessly until the cells deteriorated. If the amount of nano-drones decreased, his body would not sustain the artificial limbs and he would die. Removing the limbs would create such a shock that might paralyze his nervous system forever. One way or another, he was damned—or he was until a scientific breakthrough offered him a chance to live on. “Am I just falling further and further down into inhumanity?” he whispered despairingly, trying to settle his shaking nerves. The world enveloped in its belief of human sanctity rejected what he had become as the bionic representation of a growing class disparity between those with biomechanical enhancements, and those that had not. Against the dissidents, he was about to turn the key to Pandora’s Box and commit the ultimate taboo, the modification of the human mind. He had already agreed of course, but the taste of the bionics’ resentment left an enduring doubt in his mind. The rallying cries of naturalists and humanists united a large group of people clamouring against the destruction of human equality 3 as if those ideals were absolute. The strange looks and pointing fingers left their impression on an all too impressionable child. When he was younger, he thought that his existence itself was wrong, that by living he was in some way depriving the world of an inherent natural flow. When these equalists heard of the cerebral expansion surgery, their efforts redoubled in a tremendous roar, one not easily ignored in an adolescent too young to really understand his role as catalyst. Regardless of outcry and agenda, his desire to live was the central reason to become the first human to undergo cerebral expansion. That was reason enough to go through with the operation. He stretched out his left hand and breathed out slowly as the door slid open and the doctor came in. The doctor stared at him with his steel eyes, seeing more from a simple glance than most doctors could discern after a slew of tests and reports. “Are you ready, kid?” he asked, his voice restrained with some feeling of pity or regret. The boy stood up straight and replied affirmatively. “I think I’m ready,” he said his mind putting all doubts aside. He would do it—he would break the taboo and open the door way for future generations if they dare follow, he would become the rallying cry for proponents or dissidents, but most of all he would live on and see the fallout of his actions. For better or worse, he would be remembered in the annals of history. He would be the first to ascend beyond human limits. He would be the catalyst of a coming revolution. He would be the Metal Man. 4 Grade 12 Winner: Jackson Liang Courage Amidst, a shadow is lost on midnight's nightingale. Dark. Caw it goes, out to shimmer in the sky; last hopes? He walks. It pulses, fleeting, yet harder, please, don't, end. The two meet. Reject's abundance -air- all knew so well. Their eyes proved most. His sorrows swamped the tiled floors, forced joy. Gazing far ahead. Scenes unmet, breathing lukewarm mist. An absent champion. Yet, to espy union's warmth. You spare this dead knight's twilight? I fixed so long and wide. I restrain those dark, lurking pities. Waking sun rose. My monument to eternal joys. Numbness falls dead. Your static eyes seen, yet you do remain. Together. Although unrequited, the doves do grow thoughts. Couplet. We are balanced to acidity and basics. Light. Courage proclaims my volta, an ever fixèd mark. 5 Grade 12 Winner: Kathy Thai Muted Interrogation chase after me. stamp your feet into rising ash, make my legs clumsy, my beat panicked. disturb me, demand my attention. turn me around, thumbs carve into arms. press your hot forehead against mine — cold, and sweating fear. here I am, wondering if truth is worth explaining here I am, drifting between apologies and excuses watching your furrowed brows as I stammer. staggered breathing fills open silence, lacking the energy to run. push me back, ignore your own consideration put an end to my peace. hit hard. flesh displaced by fist to meet bone. feel proud of yourself, the pride is temporary you are temporary stand still and watch me be okay. 6 Grade 12 Winner: Mimi Nguyen Hands Our household fell silent under the thick smog of distress. A chilly breeze separated my skin from my clothes, making me feel nude against its body as I crouched in our narrow hallway, my head leaning against the rigid walls. The front door clicked open. I began to count the seconds of the creaks that would take my father to walk up those stairs. From a distance, only the bathroom faucet was brave enough to speak. My heart strings anxiously twisted around my chest as I stared at my mother’s back, unsure if I wanted to be where I was at the moment, though I dared not to move. Her hair, swirled in a bun, sagged against her shoulders. Since when did her scalp begin to shy with grey? The sound of my father’s slow footsteps echoed throughout the room. The years had hollowed his cheeks by the absence of laughter. How had age drifted from them? Many people use their hands to tell the future, but we use them to tell our pasts, to hold onto the memories and nightmares that we can’t let go, to caress our loved ones and feel the hidden paths laid out before us. I watched him reach for my mother’s and in return, she kissed his fingers, gently. “I understand,” whispered my father, softly. I sat back and observed a rare motion, losing myself in a memory that may have been lost in the years before. They were once glowing embers, now diamonds in the rough, hoping to be discovered again. 7 Grade 11 Winner: Hubi Chow The Frosted Tide The applause of crystal water thunders, a flow of ice roars and a gull cries, under the coat of silver clouds against the lone azure sky. An approval of winter approaches and the cold water ebbs, frosting the dampened shorelines. Grade 11 Winner: Sobikshna Sivapalan Happiness in a Black Coat I want a trench coat, long and voluminous just like a boat. The colour that stains the fields of Flanders, and the colour that absorbs all life, light and love. A coat embellished with brass fastenings, that gleam in the afternoon sun's blessings. A coat made of thick wool, to hug me tight, on the darkest of cold winter nights. 8 Grade 11 Winner: Dionzie Ong Tan Blankets She gives him a tight smile, and pours him another cup of tea, remembering to expose part of her bare wrist. His eyebrows raise and his eyes bore into the inviting flesh. He reminds himself to ask for the same girl if he ever decides to visit the city again. He stays a little longer than originally planned. She tries her best to push him along, but he stays put, reasoning that another five minutes never hurt anybody. She smiles, and nods as if it was the most obvious thing and that was she was silly to think otherwise. But all she can focus on is the weight of her dress and how it’s starting to feel like a million pounds.