Respite

The 2020-2021 Hoover High School Literary Magazine

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 Emma Haupt  Tyler Fremon  PJ Johnson  Jonas Muhlenkamp  Luke Penney  Siena Pilati  Allison Richardson  Emily Sturr Literary Magazine Winners:  Caroline Triner  Izzy Warburton Cover Art: “The Starry Desert” by Audrie Sponseller

Prose: “Shattered” by Jonas Muhlenkamp (pages 13-15)

Poetry: “Old Willow Tree” by Lauren Hobe (page 19)

Photography: “Eyes” by Taylor Hennagin (page 22)

 Mr. Rankin  Miss Walker

2 The River Remembers

By Tess Rosler

The banks of the Tigris-Euphrates River, flowing through the hills and valleys of great Mesopotamia, provided the sustenance needed for the construction of civilizations. Through the magic of nature’s processes, the River’s water has been recycled through generations, and the River has seen the rise and fall of many eminent legators. In the heart of the Fertile Crescent, the Egyptians and Mes- opotamians build their societies from the sediment deep in the River and the soil near the banks. The River has provided all the resources needed to nourish its people. However, before even the Sumerians laid their claim to the proliferating land, there stood a village too inconsequential to leave a legacy. Despite the forgetfulness of land and air, the River still remembers it all.

The village, whose name has escaped history, was built from bricks made of sun-dried clay harvested from the riverbeds themselves. Clay embedded itself under the fingernails of the village founders, as their hands roughened from the work and their backs broke from strain. Hours were spent harvesting the clay from the bottom of the River, shaping it into usable pieces, and leaving it to bake in the hot sun. Roofs were woven from the long native grasses, so sharp they would cut your legs when you walked through them. Slowly, the forgotten village came together. The River remembers it all.

The village children would spend every day exploring along the riverbeds. They would spend hours peeling apart the skins of narrow-leaved cattails and scattering clumps of white, fluffy seeds across the banks. Where the seeds landed, new cattails sprouted almost immediately, providing the village children with an endless activity to amuse themselves with. In the hot, summer months, the older children would sneak out in the dead of night to sleep on sandy banks as the River’s ripples tickled their feet. Parents would warn their young children of jackals and hyenas, and tell stories of babes whose lives were stolen to fulfill the need buried in the genetic code of every predator. In the evenings, native fish would be speared and grilled over a fire pit. As the young adults of the village sharpened their weapons with skipping stones and wove baskets out of long grass, the elders would distract the young children with epics that their grandparents, long dead, had told them. Their stories would be told around the fire as meals of wild mongoose and loaves of bread baked from River grain were eaten. Stories of the old gods who were still worshipped at this time were the most important, followed by stories of ancient heroes. Children would gather and hold their breath as the elders took turns sharing feats of heroics and battles against monsters. The River remembers these ancient stories most of all.

During the winter months, rain fell from the sky and replenished moisture in the soil. The villagers didn’t mind and found their lives unaffected by the changing conditions. Rain overflowed the River, and over time the riverbeds the children loved to play in became fully submerged and submitted to the demands of the current. On the rare occasion that snow fell, it was only a little. Oftentimes, it could only be seen during the wee hours of the morning, when only the village elders were awake. The adults still spry enough to contribute would spend their days planting seeds of wheat and barley, millet, and maize. They would spend their nights burning incense made from resin and onycha and praying to the old Gods for good harvests the following spring. Children would play in their rain, returning to their homes every evening with mud caked on their legs and laughter on their tongues. The River remem- bers it all. (continued on page 4)

3 (“The River Remembers” continued)

Through our modern lens, the lives of these villagers are meaningless. A strange feeling arises as the mind struggles to comprehend the idea that every person that has ever lived holds their complex reality different from our own. The village is home to an old woman who has mothered many children and been a grandmother to many more. She is widely respected, and the children rush to her feet when they notice her eyes becoming glassy as she begins to tell stories from her youth. The village is home to a young man who wishes to leave. He wishes to escape his mundane existence, and find adventure in a foreign land. He hears the elder’s stories of heroics and aspires to leave a legacy of his behind. He contemplates leaving everything behind in the night and sneaking out into the vast, overgrown forest surrounding the only land he has ever known. He never does this, his fear continuously conquers his ambition, and his name is lost to the world. There is an even younger girl, who sleeps between her parents and doubts the existence of the old gods and then shames herself for her own blasphemy. She too dreams of impossibility and transports herself to a reality where she is the daughter of King Sargon of Akkad and beloved princess to all Akkadians. The River remembers all of the villagers it has created a home for and carries all of their stories with it.

The River flows from Lake Hazer and empties itself into the expansive Persian Gulf. It carries its stories of the ancient village into the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately, the people of India and Turkey, and Iraq cannot comprehend the language of the River. Its stories are lost to the tongue of man and provide a home for the fish that swim beneath its depths. The River flows even farther, with the hope that one day the stories of the village will be understood and transcribed, but to no avail. The River observes the fall of Vlad the Impaler and the great Ottoman Empire. It observes the spread of the Renaissance from Italy to France through Francois l. It observes the founding and construction of North America and the pain and turmoil of Polish and Irish immigrants. It carries every story with it, from the very beginning of the creation of time, and even before that. The River will continue to carry every story with it until the final day of Earth, where the River will swallow the land and everything will succumb to its ne- glected and painful history. The River will continue to remember it all.

4 Color Sunset By Jordan Palmer

5 New Year

By Jaclyn Scaffidi

New Year:

Another year has passed

And just like that

It came and then dashed

Time to grow and learn

Lessons and successes are what we yearn

Resolutions will be made

We will continue to work hard in this decade

Finally a new year

Let us fill it with cheer

Enjoy it and live in the moment

See what it has in store

Whatever it is, help us to adore

Come together and celebrate

Do your best and do not hesitate

Keep the faith and have hope

Find your way to cope

On to the next part

Follow your heart

Happy New Year

Let all of the negativity disappear

6 Second to None By Mitchell Thomas

Quarterback with the number one “Across the field” they play and run Wilson and Olave catching balls in perfect time The defensive line solid as a Bose-Einstein Kickers and Punters doing their special parts Julian Fleming waiting to start Coaches on the sideline trying to play it smart

Brutus, the greatest nut of all Working the sideline and fans every fall The roar of the shoe can be heard from miles away Led by Urban’s successor, coach Ryan Day Consistently voted one of the top picks, Each and every year going to a New Year’s Six They’re my favorite team, my number one The Ohio State Buckeyes Second to none.

From defense, offense to special teams, The flow of the game is like a cycle, Pass, run, tackle, pushing forward towards the goal. Go, Bucks! Go! Touchdown!

Add one more… The importance a kick can have on a game.

From the stands we hear the fight song blare “Hang on Sloopy” the crowd sings and cheers At half time they dot the i Completing the script, “Ohio” The best damn band in the land, “Across the field” they play once more Pushing, pushing for their team to score

The calendar says October But on Saturdays (this year) there is no scarlet and grey In Columbus the “road to Indy” sign lays All are absent in the “Horseshoe” on game days No wave in the crowd, No “O-H-I-O” No tailgating, no parties, nowhere to go

Diehard fans, still remain loyal though Waiting, watching, hoping so Finally, next Saturday the journey begins again The Buckeyes D line will make the Huskers RB unend.

Indy awaits for OSU.

7 Waves By Taylor Hennagin

8 The Hardest Worker in the Room By Gina Cardinale

“Conscientious” was the word that my math teacher, Mr. Ackerman, used to describe me at a par- ent-teacher conference I attended during my sophomore year. Unsure of what he meant, I pulled out my phone (after the conference, of course) to ask Siri for its definition. She responded: “(of a person) wishing to do what is right, especially to do one’s work or duty well and thoroughly.” Wow! I thought. That seems like the perfect adjective to describe me. The shaping of my character all started when I was born; the doctors remorsefully gave my parents the unfortunate news of my bilateral hearing loss. I was then tested to determine the level of my hearing loss (which turned out to be moderate-severe) and began wearing hearing aids at four months old. With the goal for me to learn with hearing aids and hopefully speak like my peers, my parents enrolled me in a speech therapy program at home. At three years old, I attended a preschool that focused specifically on speech and language therapy for children that were hard of hearing. I enjoyed the atmosphere because I was able to fit in well with the other kids and developed new friendships from it. To this day, I still remember many of the fun memories made during those two years, like horse-back riding at my teacher’s (Miss Sabrina) farm and “bring your parents to school” day. Being a part of that culture has shown me to be proud of myself and not let my hearing loss define who I am. Even though I have lost touch with most of my preschool friends, I continue to connect and socialize with other students who also face the struggle of a hearing loss. Several months ago, six teenage girls (including myself) were invited to a Zoom conference run by a doctor from Oticon (a hearing aid company), where we were asked to give our feedback on our hearing aids and what we wish for them to do in the future. Overall, it was a great experience, and by the end I had befriended all of the girls. We even talked about meeting up at Starbucks sometime in the near future. Although I wish to have perfect hearing like everyone else, I am beyond grateful that I was fitted for hearing aids at such an early age. This assistive technology has allowed me to listen, learn, and speak at the same levels as my peers early on in life. It took a lot of hard work and dedication, but this journey has shaped me into being the hardest worker in the room. In first grade, I was so advanced in my school classes that my teachers suggested I skip second grade and directly proceed to third grade. However, my parents decided that I should stay with my graduating class and instead take enriched courses when presented in the future. Since middle school, I have challenged myself by enrolling in many advanced courses. Currently, I am taking five higher-level classes and am actively involved in eleven extra-curricular activities with various leadership roles. One of the clubs I joined this year was Leadership, which I regret not taking on earlier on in life because it brings me such great joy to give back to those in need. To stay active, I run for the cross country and track teams. Unlike my peers, I feel that I am an “old soul” and prefer to stay connected with friends and family in traditional and authentic ways, such as going to breakfast to catch up instead of on FaceTime. I am a spiritual Christian and continue to express my gratitude and thankfulness to God for each opportunity presented to me. I love to devote my time to the Lord by reading a section of the Bible in the YouVersion app each morning. One of the most important messages I’ve learned from reading His Word is to love yourself for who you are. God created you in His own perfect image, so we shouldn’t be jealous of others and what they have or don’t have. Although my hearing loss has proven to be the biggest obstacle for me, it has pushed me to shape who I am in many positive ways. I want people to see me as a “normal” person with the same goals, aspirations, and achievements as my peers; I do not want to be defined by my hearing loss alone. When I was young, I made a promise to always be the hardest worker in the room, no matter what. Throughout the years, I have continued to achieve this goal, which has allowed me to gain respect from my teachers and the trust from my parents that I am capable of doing anything I put my mind to. My peers look up to me, and I feel a great sense of satisfaction after I complete an assignment early, or “ace a test” that I devoted much time studying for. My hearing impairment has pushed me to give my best effort all of the time, shaping me into the conscientious, hard working, young woman I am today.

9 Silent She Was By Briann Kline

Even your ghost Holds more warmth Than most Your complexion is pale Yet vibrant It never fails To keep me silent

Silent she was Never spoke a word I imagine a melodic Voice unheard

Though a ghost She became by half My secret lover Who I could never grasp

One day, I reached We did too much The impossible happened I felt her touch

Drowned with emotion She spoke my name She called for me Loud as day I shed a tear Her life I claimed

I want to hold her Like she’s mine She’s gone but She’s on my mind She’s gone and I don’t know why

10 Day on the Trail By Kosta Volas

11 Reach Out Your Hand By Isabella Musa

I dream of a house full of children A place where I can sleep peacefully For children do not gossip Nor do they bother with other people’s matters They have yet to know right from wrong Yet why is it that they behave better than most? Children that only have worries for who they will play with next Not money Nor relationships. These young girls and boys are rays of sunshine Like doves sent from above They are full of innocence, not hatred nor evil The devil has yet to come to these children I wish to embrace them and gain some of their rays Hoping that someday I’ll gain their innocence Yet, when they grow How will they become? Hopefully, everything but the wrong path has been shown to them If not, maybe I can help. I’ll take their small hands in mine and lead them onto a flat path No stone or rock in sight If you look to the sides you’ll see others Other people walking the same path as you But you should never look behind For those shown are trudging onto rocky paths With thorns and needles in the ground. Those people have chosen to walk off course But, you need naught worry I’ll hold onto your hand tightly and never let go If you choose to walk off track, I’ll run to fetch you I will never leave you, because I want to walk the same path as you His hand will never be out of sight, and neither will mine Come now, grab hold on me and let’s walk together.

12 2020-2021 Literary Magazine Winning Prose

Shattered

By Jonas Muhlenkamp

This story is a warning, nothing more, nothing less.

There are moments in life where time seems to stop, where the future is pointless, where you want the world to spin backwards for just a second so that you can relive your last good memories before they become memories. Then your brain catches up with your heart and issues a grim reminder that, no, time won’t bend back on itself just to make you happy. The flow of time is cold, cruel, unforgiving. Wake up, Elizabeth. Time watches the world burn under our attentive care, never stepping in to point out how wrong we all are. Wake up.

Why were these the thoughts that my neurons decided to keep around today of all days? Possi- bly they found my contemplation of time intriguing and worth exploring further, but more realistically, this bad habit of continually analyzing the impossible had twisted itself into an ugly ball of impenetrable darkness that the neurons wanted to play catch with. I was faced with the imminent end of my world, and there was nothing to do to slow it down. WAKE UP!

The stench of someone trying to fry bacon finally pulled me out of my miserable sleep. Brie was by the stove, smoke billowing in front of her. Suddenly, any residual drowsiness dissipated. “What are you doing, B?” I exclaimed, moving to help.

She turned to me, smiling as she wafted the smoke away from her face. “Tomorrow’s your eigh- teenth birthday! I wanted to celebrate our last day as friends, before you officially join your party. But… I forgot that you’re the better cook, Lizzie.”

I laughed, but my chuckle sounded like a choke. “How about we just make toast? Less grease and less fire.” Brie rolled her eyes. With each step toward the pantry my bright mood sobered. To- morrow, April 18, 2058, was the day I had been dreading since I learned the rules of society. The day I would embrace my party and lose my best friend.

The toaster interrupted my reverie to inform me that it had finished burning random patterns into processed wheat product. Its sharp ‘ding’ forced a question out of my lips. “Brie, have you ever won- dered why the parties force bipartisan friendships to end?”

She grabbed a piece of toast for herself and went to work buttering it. “It’s simple, Liz. Your family is Alliance; mine is Coalition. We need to devote ourselves to our respective party teachings, and our relationship would undermine that devotion.”

(continued on page 14)

13 (“Shattered” continued)

I sighed. Brie was right, but being right was not nearly enough to satisfy me. How had this insanity started? My school told me that thirty years ago, society snapped in half after a Coalition government tried to force every citizen to insert subcutaneous GPS devices “to protect our society.” But Brie’s school taught that society had exploded a few years earlier, with an Alliance government encouraging wanton violence. It was impossible to know which history was accurate, although the aftermath—millions dead, cities wiped off maps, and the country no better off for it all—was indisput- able.

Even if I couldn’t know the truth about the past, I could at least watch what was happening in the present. Harnessing my Alliance and Brie’s Coalition media access, I looked for overlaps between the two sides. Thankfully, actual events still lurked underneath the party propaganda. When I recon- structed world headlines with as little bias as possible, I found sickening reports. “China Wins Si- no-Russian War Over The States” and “North American Trade Deal Continues to Ignore Fallen U.S.” were some of the better headlines, which wasn’t a good sign. The States—we’d dropped the ‘United’ when there was no longer any point pretending that it was accurate—were an experiment in extreme government, with the rest of the world looking on and biding its time. Could two countries survive if they were overlaid onto one another, the only borders between them psychological and partisan? The only answer to this question that I’d ever known was a constant, sometimes violent, struggle for domi- nance.

Even within our borders, disorder had entered every community as protests either trampled police or were crushed by military, depending on how large they grew. That wasn’t news, though, just the view from my window. We’d been in this state of turmoil for as long as anyone could remember; although the parties professed that they had saved the nation, they had really only saved themselves.

Amidst all this chaos, Brie and I were unique, being friends from different parties. Almost no friendships extended across the partisan divide since the separation of schools by party; I knew Allies who could only name a few Coalitionists, always alongside other names I didn’t recognize, like Stalin and Mao.

“You gonna eat that, Liz, or have I already lost you to the Alliance?” My toast, forgotten in my deep thoughts, was creeping toward Brie’s plate. I snatched it back and managed to say “Yes” around the bread as it vanished into my mouth. Brie giggled, asking, “What on earth were you thinking about that you forgot about buttered bread?”

“I… never mind. Let’s go somewhere?” I wasn’t sure if my best friend would agree with me or not with the conclusion that I had just reached as I listened to her laughs, looked at her face, and realized that the parties had no idea what life was. Neither the Alliance nor the Coalition were about to take Brie away from me. Just once, I needed friendship to outweigh partisanship.

“Sure—where to?” She had a quizzical look on her face.

“I want go to the registration office to clarify a few things before tomorrow.” I wasn’t lying. I did want to clarify something: that I wouldn’t be joining a party and giving up my life to this messed- (continued on page 15)

14 (“Shattered” continued) up, divided world.

“Oh. Okay, I guess. Ice cream afterward?” Of course she would ask about ice cream—if there was anything she liked more than a good scoop of vanilla, I hadn’t found it yet.

“Brie, it’s what, nine in the morning?” I had to ask, but we both knew the routine: she shrugged, I shrugged, and we would get ice cream anyways.

In the car, we were silent most of the way into town. I wanted to tell Brie what I was think- ing, but kept holding it in. Unfortunately, she noticed and asked what was on my mind. Her simple inquiry opened the floodgates.

“Brie, our world is shredded by the feud between the Coalition and the Alliance. I don’t want to contribute to this perpetuation of chaos and hatred that everyone seems to just accept.”

“What are you talking about? The parties saved us, silly; they aren’t the problem.” This was not what I had expected. Brie so infrequently disagreed with me.

“You’re saying you’d rather align with the Coalition or let me join the Alliance than hang on to our friendship? Because that is where we are headed—you and me on opposite sides of the aisle like never before.”

“Lizzie, questioning the system accomplishes nothing! You won’t be able to change any- thing before someone catches you and silences you anyways! Powerful people have never been willing to give up power easily.” Brie pounded the steering wheel with her enthusiasm, accidentally honking the horn. She smiled apologetically at the neighboring drivers.

I started to backtrack. “This was a mistake. Let’s skip the registration and just go get ice cream now?”

Brie’s face darkened. “We’ve come far enough already, Liz. May as well as go in and say what you have to say.”

“No, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea anymore.”

“Well, now I have something to tell registration, so we’re going.” Brie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and I regretted letting her drive. My heart plummeting toward my feet, I began to realize what was about to happen. What I thought was the strongest friendship of my life had been shredded in a matter of minutes by the partisan power of society.

We reached the office. Brie stepped out, but as I moved to do the same, she locked the doors. “Wait! Brie!” She didn’t look back.

A few moments later, an official-looking woman exited the building, shortly followed by Brie. My best friend pointed directly at me without the slightest glimmer of recognition.

15 A Burst of Succulents By Joy McCune

16 I’m Not Dead By Briann Kline

I’m starting to think I’m the only sane one In a world on the brink Don’t be surprised

When you talk enough sense You lose your mind I’m not dead I’m just not alive

Don’t look at me the same I’m not who I was I don’t know my name Take off, I want to run

But I lie in the street Pouring down rain There’s no point to life If you don’t feel the pain

I watch my tears mix With pools of the rain Drip Drip As they fall down the drain It was then I knew I would never be the same

Life seems long When on borrowed time When you talk enough sense You lose your mind

I’m lost But I don’t know why I finally realized I’m not dead I’m just paralyzed

17 The Pain from Silence By Cameron Wright

18 2020-2021 Literary Magazine Winning Poetry

Old Willow Tree

By Lauren Hobe

I remembered my classic blunder

From the day prior

I put my hand

Upon the cooking pan

It left a mark so red

I couldn’t help but dread

I showed my mother and she said

That next time I should look ahead

I then went outside sat down and wondered

How long this willow tree has been here I sit here and watch it, eating a pea

I look up at it and wonder

How far down do the roots go under?

I hurried back inside to ask my mother

She said it had been there for many years

Before this old house was hers

Back when this willow tree

Was smaller than a flea

And that is the story

Of that old willow tree

19 Sunflower By Addison Kern

20 8 A.M. By Tommy Smart

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ricky groaned as he got up out of his bed. He stumbled over to his phone where he saw it was 8 A.M. on March 20th. “Oh shoot,” murmured Ricky as class started at 7:30. Ricky stumbled to the kitch- en where he devoured his cereal. “If I’m not already there, what’s the point in even going,” Ricky asked himself. Ricky decided he’d just stay home and skip his classes. He was already going to be late, so he decided he’d just take the day off. Ricky went into his bedroom to play video games when he saw a groundhog poking its head out of the ground. Rickey went on with his video games and ordered a pizza. The pizza came, Ricky ate it and life was good. He had freedom, was having fun, and most importantly wasn’t at school. All was going well for Ricky until around 2 P.M. he got a call. He picked the phone up thinking he’d mess with the person on the other line. “Where’s Ricky today Mrs. James,” asked the school’s principal. Ricky freaked out. He didn’t know what to do. Ricky lowered his voice to try and impersonate his dad. “That boy has got a bad fever right now. I don’t think he’ll be at school for another few days sir,” Ricky replied trying to impersonate his dad. The principal was skeptical, but he wasn’t about to question “Mr. James” so he just said “ok,” and went about with his day. A burden off his shoulders, Ricky laid back on the couch happy that he just dodged a bullet. Not only had Ricky skipped school but now he would have the next couple of days off too with his “fever.” Ricky biked by his school when the school day ended so he could talk with his friends. He told them about what had happened and how he had the next few days off. “You’ve done some dumb things Ricky but this tops most of your shenanigans,” said Ricky’s friend Stewert. “I know, but I already have the principal sold. I just can’t let my parents find out now,” Ricky explained. Ricky knew that would be the hard part of this whole thing. Ricky biked home only to find his mom outside gardening. “How was your day at school,” asked Ricky’s mother. “Uh, good, I guess,” Ricky replied. He tried not to act suspiciously. Hours passed as Ricky played video games with Stewert but now that Ricky was free, there was one thing he wanted to try. A few blocks away, there was an old abandoned hospital that was rumored to be haunted. Ricky had always wanted to explore it. Ricky snuck out and made Stewert come with him. Stewart had an uneasy feeling about this, but Ricky was unfazed. They got to the house to find it was locked. Ricky found a rock and smashed a window to get in. The boys explored throughout the house and as they went on the more scared they got. They heard whispers and thought that they were moving figures. The hospital had 15 floors. The boys planned to search all 15 floors. When the boys got to the 15th floor when they clearly heard a loud, sharp voice. The voice clearly startled the boys. Ricky was leaning against an old window when the voice startled him. Ricky jumped and fell back. The glass behind him gave out, and Ricky fell through the window to the ground, dead. Ring! Ring! Ring! “What,” Ricky asked himself under his breath. Ricky woke up with a bad headache. Ricky got out of bed, groaning in pain to check his phone. It was 8 A.M. on March 20th.

21 2020-2021 Literary Magazine Winning Photography

Eyes By Taylor Hennagin

22 Overcome By Jaclyn Scaffidi

A feeling of uncertainty in the air, Often asking ourselves, “When will things seem fair?” Taking things day by day, Still trying to beam like a sun ray. Will things ever be back to normal? Constantly feeling informal. What a crazy time! Unsure of what’s going on in my mind. New habits, new ways of life While being presented with strife. Take a step back. Need to get on track. Take a breath in and out, Don’t ring in a doubt. Focus on your goals, You got it, beautiful souls. I know it’s had a major impact on us all, But we have a tendency to overcome it, I recall. Trust the process, I believe in you. One day, things will come through.

23 Tower of Cleveland By Kosta Volas

24 Change and Growth By Ava Gardner

Though it may seem that no good comes out of change if you look at your ideals through a different perspective all your thoughts will be rearranged.

The change could be big or small but will avail you in all. The satisfaction might come later in life so do not panic or cause a strife.

Embrace the change and do not comply to an oath at first, see your range and then change— to better yourself and grow.

If this causes pain do not point the blame at yourself, because you grow for the bettering of yourself. show everyone how far you can go and push through hardships because throughout it all, remains the idea that change raises you up and makes you stronger.

25 Stars of Wanderlust By Alanna Beadnell

26 If Looks Could Kill By Ethan Dayton

You’ve got me running away from myself And there’s no turning back, you burned it all to the ground I have no desire to make time for you still I’d be staring you down only if looks could kill

You’ve got me running away from what’s next And every thought surpasses the last with foul intent I have no desire to make amends, still I’d be staring you down only if looks could kill

27 Paris from Above By Siena Pilati

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8 A.M. Tommy Smart 21 A Burst of Succulents Joy McCune 16 Change and Growth Ava Gardner 25 Color Sunset Jordan Palmer 5 Day on the Trail Kosta Volas 11 Eyes Taylor Hennagin 22 The Hardest Worker in the Room Gina Cardinale 9 If Looks Could Kill Ethan Dayton 27 I’m Not Dead Briann Kline 17 New Year Jaclyn Scaffidi 6 Old Willow Tree Lauren Hobe 19 Overcome Jaclyn Scaffidi 23 Paris from Above Sienna Pilati 28 The Pain from Silence Cameron Wright 18 Reach Out Your Hand Isabella Musa 12 The River Remembers Tess Rosler 3-4 Second to None Mitchell Thomas 7 Shattered Jonas Muhlenkamp 13-15 Silent She Was Briann Kline 10 The Starry Desert Audrie Sponseller cover art Stars of Wanderlust Alanna Beadnell 26 Sunflower Addison Kern 20 Tower of Cleveland Kosta Volas 24 Waves Taylor Hennagin 8

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