Cover art by Ellis Wu Th 1 Tw 2nty “THE CREATIVE ARTS FOSTER WITHIN US AN AESTHETIC 3 APPRECIATION OF OUR WORLD AND OF OURSELVES. WRITING ENABLES US TO SHARE OUR INNERMOST Tw nty THOUGHTS WITH OTHERS. In establishing this endowment Mrs. Bell further said, “I can think IT MAY CREATE A TRANQUIL WORLD, 5 of no better way in which to honor 4 * A CHAOTIC WORLD, the memory of C. Gordon Bell ‘50”. It is a OR A WORLD FILLED WITH HOPE.” gift of love in memory of a man and his love for the lively art of writing.” C. Gordon So said Mrs. Alberta Saffell Bell on the occasion of Bell ’50 was a publisher and owner of The Gardner News establishing the Alberta and C. Gordon Bell ‘50 in Gardner, Massachusetts, a family-owned newspaper C ldr1 n Memorial Endowment of The Cauldron in honor of her for over a century. Mrs. Bell is currently managing Editor-in-Chief Ellis Wu late husband. C. Gordon Bell often stated, “All writing editor of The Gardner News. Her late husband and 2 is the sound of one voice speaking, and all writing can his twin brother, Shane, were both members of the Content Editor Owen Rokous be heard.” As a writer, journalist, and publisher, he editorial staff of The Cauldron in 1947, the year of its Copy Editors Miranda Chong3 committed his time and energy to helping others fulfill founding. Kent School’s student writers, artists, and their dreams of writing and of keeping their voices photographers dedicate each issue of The Cauldron to Connor Fahey4 alive. The endowment is intended to insure a medium Alberta Saffell Bell and to the memory of her husband, 5 of expression for Kent School’s student writers and C. Gordon Bell ’50, in appreciation of his past and her Associate Copy Editor Sophia Gnehm artists through The Cauldron. current loving commitment to The Cauldron. Faculty Advisor Mr. McDonough*

2 3 4 5 Maine01, Photography 2.

Melany Markaryan

Grandma’s Orchard ANNA JANG Running Through the maze of tangled trees Scattered with sickly-sweet oblate fruit Crisp air deeper breaths Owen Searching 1, 2 Branch after branch after branch Nestled in between the orange clusters Rokous Far away from reality Stretching Her small hand to reach the mandarin with The most vibrant rind A delicacy Nibbling Pillows of soft refreshing joy Summertime is coming to an end Bittersweet flavor attacks We cannot stay in grandma’s orchard forever Higher, Photography 1. Expired03, Photography 7 Ellis Wu 1 2 1, 2 1,

1. MDS 310, 2. Expert Ed, Ink on paper Ink on paper 2.

8 9 Stella 1, 2 Connie Kim Tu 3, 4, 5

4. Youth, Photography

1. sociophobia 2. Post-Cinderella 3. Untitled, Photography 5. Untitled, Photography

10 11 Miska Lewis, ANC-XXX, Photography

1. the brook : a reprieve ZOE BENJAMIN1, 2

2. A SIX WORD STORY: why hello there, mr. beaver. this reality feels much like you’re looking rather cynical today. dreaming. i’ve never seen you around these parts… although to be fair i haven’t seen much of myself recently either.

i hope you don’t mind - i kicked a stone into your stream. you know, to keep you company for some time. Owen Rokous, Marsupials, Collage but, it turns out, all stones do is sink. i thought maybe gravity pulled me here, too, but it didn’t take me long to realize that it was actually Necessity. you see, i’ve been inside for so long i forgot what air felt like. i’m sure you can relate… although i guess you’ve been holding your breath on purpose.

the birds keep talking to me. do you know what they’re saying? i don’t speak their joyful language. but the trees, the trees i still understand. they speak of yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows - it reminds me of a song i once knew, but i can’t quite place the name.

don’t worry, i won’t be here for too much longer. i just wanted to share this patch of sunlight before it disappears once more into the clouds

12 13 of mucus onto the screen door. “Ma, I stopped, I don’t live and kept him fed like a rabid dog for the following week. He seatbelt. He lay there comfortably knowing that his pain was that life anymore.” They were in their seventies already. Mr. spoon fed Oscar cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, a soon to be over and that he was in good hands. and Mrs. Friedrich grew up in farming families, as children main staple of their diet and the only food soft enough for The Wrangler pulled into Dr. Ernst’s driveway Three Hundred and they had worked hard, season after season in the fields. Oscar’s stump-like teeth. Occasionally Jacob would make and the opening of the garage door revealed a whole set “Pops, can you please unlock the door … for fucking sake, rounds during the middle of the night to check up on Oscar. of machinery inside. Cables and tubes were stretched Forty Six Dollars Ma, please, I’m begging you, your son, your fucking son, I’m He’d find Oscar clawing at the ground and at the walls as if everywhere from machine to machine. Dr. Ernst’s garage on my knees, begging for you.” Oscar lay in shambles on the there was a stash of methamphetamines hidden somewhere was an organized mess of a room, with no place attracting brick doorstep. He dug his fingers into the tired brown brick, inside waiting to be lit in his pipe, but to no avail Oscar any more attention than another. Oscar was shown the way and Sixty Cents which scraped a layer of skin away, almost as if he were finger couldn’t find a source of relief hiding in those cinder block to his recliner. He sank into the chair, with a wonderful wave ELLIS WU painting with blood. He laid there, in a pool of mucus, sweat, walls. Oscar’s wild howls could be heard all through the dead of relief passed over him. Oscar had never experienced this and blood. The deadbolt slid into the door, which revealed of night. The village sheriff went door to door searching caliber of service in his life and was delighted by every little Oscar bought a Greyhound coach ticket for two Mrs. Friedrich standing there motionless, teary-eyed. for any hooligans who had decided to keep wolves in their moment. Oscar took time to relax himself, allowing the hundred forty six dollars and sixty cents, including tax. “Oscar,” Mrs. Friedrich spoke through a layer of homes. But again, to no avail, the sheriff had found nothing. cushioning to envelope his tired and weathered body. His It was going to be a fourteen hour journey from his small phlegm. “Oscar … stop lying to me,” a single tear trickled III eyes scanned around the room Renal Failure 101, Transplant village of Keyser, West Virginia to Canaan, Vermont. He felt down the side of her reddened face. A face of embarrassment, Oscar stood with his head scanning back and forth for the Surgeries, Lister: Modern Surgery, and countless more books the cost would be justified if it got rid of his pain. It had been anger, and jealousy. Mr. Friedrich also appeared, slowly, like bus. Over the hill on Route 202, he spotted a dark boxy lined the shelves in the room. Each were meticulously two years since the searing sensation had started in his lower a phantom gliding into view. Mr. and Mrs. Friedrich met at ambulance-like silhouette. Its headlights bobbing up and marked with various colored stickers, peculiar numbers, and jaw. The pain was most definitely caused by years of STATE and that’s where they got their bachelors in botany. down as the vehicle hugged the poorly paved road. The bus stickers that read CPL. Dentistry was the lifeblood of this methamphetamine smoke, but Oscar would never admit to He stood with half his shoulder behind Mrs. Friedrich’s. Mr. passed the florist’s shop, the village clinic, the graveyard, and man, it seemed he had devoted his all into the study. It was his that. and Mrs. Friedrich stood watching their son strewn on the finally slowed to a stop at the terminal. Oscar was one of the job as well as his hobby. “Jacob you dumb fuck,” Oscar said, “I just ain’t doorstep separated by a screen door and a deadbolt. three people waiting for the bus that crisp autumn morning. Dr. Ernst pulled a packaged needle from a drawer brushing m’teeth,” that was definitely a causal factor as well. “Oscar, your birthday … your birthday is next week, He boarded the bus with the few material possessions he and proceeded to attach a complex junction of tubing and a Oscar went cold turkey three months ago to save up for the you’ll be thirty.” Mr. Friedrich spoke with cold pebble-like had, a rucksack with some clothes, food, directions, and the bag full of liquid. He placed the capped needle down onto a trip of a lifetime. Recycling bottles and cans, stealing from eyes glaring back down at him. “Remember what you said last hundred dollars he made scavenging for three months. He tray and took a prep pad and rubbed the skin on Oscar’s arm. shops, selling scrap metal, little by little Oscar earned his way year?” Mr. Friedrich had no change in countenance, “yeah, would spend the next fourteen or so hours absorbing the Dr. Ernst’s thumb and forefinger glided down from the upper to a healthy sum of three hundred forty six dollars and sixty you remember, and look where we are now, Oscar … look scenery of the Mid-Atlantic and New England foliage. arm probing for something. They decided to stop at halfway cents. This was all going to cost him a pretty penny, but it was where the fuck we are now.” With perfect synchronisation IV through. He marked that spot with a pen and picked up the going to be worth it. Oscar described the pain as a “fucking on the last syllable, the door was shut and the deadbolt slid Oscar hopped off the bus at Canaan. From any passerby, needle. Laying the tip of the needle close to the mark, he cunt fuck” of a pain. He would often exclaim that when he back into position. he looked like a weary hiker making his way up the trail to steadied himself and slid the catheter fully into his arm. ate or drank—for there was a brilliant orchestral roar in his There was no use in saving their son, he had fallen Katahdin. Oscar didn’t look like a slob of a methamphetamine “So, I won't, like, like, feel anything?” mouth occuring at all times, when he was tired, when he too deep into a rabbit hole. Deep enough that his screams and addict, he seemed to be going somewhere. Across the bus “Son, you have an inch of steel in your arm, tell me, was sad, when he woke up, and when he tried to sleep. Sadly, pleas for help at the bottom never made their way up. station, standing there, was the man who had promised do you feel it?” Mr. Ernst already had his hands on the Oscar’s Appalachia was not the place to be when one had a dental II Oscar relief for the simple cost of one hundred dollars. He head, restraining him from shaking it. Oscar’s neck tensed as problem of such magnitude. There were neither dentists Oscar found a listing for a “dental worker” three stood there with a smile, a grin spread evenly on his face. It he tried to reply no. Mr. Ernst slid the catheter out and left there nor the money to pay for one. months ago. The man charged a flat fee of one hundred was welcoming grin, one of patience and acceptance. He the cannula in delivering a deliciously sweet chemical cocktail “Those nutheads doctors think they’re better than dollars for any procedure done. stood unmoving, hovering like a spirit over his Wrangler. into his body. everyone ‘cause they went to STATE,” but in the end it was “Jacob, you think this is legit? I mean he’s got’em “Oscar?” The man called out, “I’m Dr. Ernst.” He Still with a grin on his face, Dr. Ernst, without Oscar who sat in the Keyser public library scouring Caigslist white coat and all … oh boy, you can see his tools in the held a hand out with the elbow unbent and fingers pointed looking, felt for the scissor and began cutting away at Oscar’s listings for a dentist. background.” perfectly straight forwards. shirt. With increasing speed, Dr. Ernst’s hands flew towards Oscar was a scrappy looking young man of twenty “You’re right that’s one of’em teeth doctor alright.” “Mr. Ernst, nice to meet ya,” Oscar’s hand flew the iodine surgical drapery and washed Oscar’s abdomen nine. The fine lines and dark spots that peppered his face “He’s all the way in Vermont,” Oscar said, “I don’t blindly into his and he proceeded to limply shake his hand. with the cold slippery liquid. would say otherwise. Methamphetamines had done a lot remember no town called Vermont, “ Jacob turned to look in Oscar lumbered towards the passenger side and threw “Doctor, why my shirt?” No words came out of to accelerate the sagging of the focal features of the face. At the distance himself in. Oscar’s mouth. He caught the glint of the scalpel blade in Dr. age ten he smoked his first cigarette, at eleven he started to “Vermont … that’s a state up there with New York, “So how longs you’ve been em teeth doctors,” Oscar Ernst’s hands. Oscar reached out in an effort to stop what drink, at thirteen he was already a chain smoker, at twenty I think your gonna need one of’em passports to get there,” asked with a cheerful demeanor. the doctor was doing, but his arms wouldn’t listen to him. he tried coke, and by twenty-four he had lost one ring finger, Jacob said as he stared aimlessly at some object before Oscar. “I’ve studied at Canaan for twenty years, so it’s been They lay motionless on the recliner. Oscar watched as Dr. one pinky, and three toes to desomorphine. When Oscar hit Oscar didn’t care for the distance. He didn’t care for the quite some time.” On Park Street there was the town library, Ernst slid the blade into his belly and dragged it across and twenty-seven he came running home, crying like a little baby. cost. He wanted to numb his pain and he would get that the town of Canaan had an elementary school but no college. proceeded to spread the incision with his retractors. The He begged for mercy, screaming and clawing at the doorstep done. Oscar booked an appointment and from that day on Oscar turned and nodded in admiration at his impressive lamp’s glossy reflection on his intestines were blinding, Oscar of his parent’s house, savagely crying, mucus gushing from he quit methamphetamines cold turkey. During the next tenure. Dr. Ernst sat in his seat with perfect posture, hands tried to close his eyes and look away but he couldn’t. His his nostrils and streaming down in rivulets from his hideous week Oscar was untamable, he was in a fiery hell hole of at ten and two, and with two eyes laser focused on the road eyelids were fixed in an open state, forcing him to watch as mouth. His parents weren’t any bit surprised, but to no avail cruel emptiness. Nothing but the succulent, divine vapors of ahead of him. He sat there with the same grin as before, his kidneys left his body. Dumped hastily into a cooler labeled they didn’t show him much sympathy either. methamphetamine could placate his fervent passion for the unmoving and unwavering, not moving a muscle. Oscar sat Lara Willard-Ernst, Dr. Ernst fled the scene leaving Oscar to “Ma please let me in,” Oscar said as he spewed a coat substance. Jacob took the extra step to lock him in chains slowly slouching into his seat with his chin hanging onto the bleed out on the recliner. 14 15 a poem : a bedtime story ZOE BENJAMIN it is fall. the leaves rustle off the trees and whisper their soft goodbyes before settling on the ground, which only months before had seemed so very far away. the sky becomes dark earlier than usual, and the air is thinning. some Tamia days, if you exhale into the wind right, you can see your breath escape your body and float away with thoughts of sun bathing and lemon 1, 2, 3 popsicles. Lewis now, you walk briskly with your hands in your pockets and your head Eva Mulligan, 2 down, instead of boldly with your eyes squinting up at the sun. all the colors have gone, and a palette of muted browns and greys settles in for the winter. the faces you once knew to crinkle up in laughter now look at you solemnly - is this what they intended did they mean for the crunch of each playful step to be replaced with a silent wither beneath your feet? did they simply forget to warn you that, although it may not seem like it, it’s probably time to take out your big jacket, or did they actually want you to shiver in the chilled air that Dusk now brings with him? did they run out of tissues on purpose to make your nose runs so much that you have to wipe it raw with the side of your shirt sleeve? ...or is that how the seasons have always changed? it can’t be. you remember a time when jumping in leaf piles didn’t make your 2. Untitled, Photography Hien Truong, i trust you, Photography skin crawl, and how when mother called for dinner, it made you feel the opposite. the coming winters always smelled of peppermint and hot cocoa - they were a soft sunrise on the horizon. now, they smell of nothingness - a dark night waiting for you in the distance. you remember how father would wink at you, and you’d giggle ‘til bedtime when he’d tuck you in and read you a story. you’d fall asleep dreaming of horses who galloped through fields of green grass and yellow dandelions. but then the bed got too small for the both of you, and the yellow stopped coming in dreams, but from the lights you couldn’t bear to turn off for fear of the darkness. and father doesn’t tuck you in any more - he stands at the door waving goodnight, and in the morning he doesn’t come to wake you for breakfast. but, still, sometimes mother and father sit together and talk like they used to... 1. Untitled, Photography 3. Untitled, Photography so, surely, ​they

16 17 ​ haven’t noticed The Change. air. imagination. it came as softly as the cold wind from the north and the harvest I fight an endless battle moon from the east. 1. Going for And as I fall towards the water, Which begins anew every night. it felt as normal as seeing her face every day and wondering if she my mind flails noticed that your smile was only meant for her. a walk even as my body I lied to you, to myself: and it was as quiet as you felt laying in her arms - knowing that spring 1, 2, 3 is perfectly still. There’s no gremlin. was finally coming. but, like all things, spring came to an end that LUCAS PFEIFER Thought after thought: It’s just a part of my mind. year too. Along a dirt path entering and exiting. Feelings fighting feelings. it did so for mother and father, and it did so for all the other lovers in my feet carry me. How ironic. the world. Without realizing, I am drawn Are there rocks so, really, can you blame them for falling out of love like the leaves forward. below? from their branches? and I laugh a little 3. A Soul for whispering their soft goodbyes only feet from where they first or maybe I grimace. Will the water be cold? Eva Mulligan, Window blossomed? no. Most animals have eyes, Doesn’t matter. But our eyes are windows it’s not their fault. My legs carry me along. Do I still remember how to nor is it yours, but you carry the inevitable burden anyway. swim? Into a labyrinth, far beyond What we can know. you try to water their love - to help them grow - to remind them of It is becoming foggy here, the spring. on this windblown path. But suddenly, I take a breath except this time, it’s much too late. of the warm, damp, salty air, When I look into my eyes, An eerie silence descends as we I see my soul, and you don’t have any tears left to cry. walk towards each other, and I am calm. I hold my breath Suspended in solution, the fog and I. Precipitating into existence. it is winter now. The world, once vibrant, and wait. the snowflakes mimic the stars at night, and the silence reminds you becomes a wall of white It hovers, fleetingly, of the beauty and of the pain in being alone. and I am carried along. the lights bounce off all the whiteness, and, at least for a little while, 2. A gremlin It dances from side to side you forget about the dark. And then, as I look away, Just in time, I stop. Someone set a password on my It evaporates like the morning The ground falls away heart mist. and the wall of white And then forgot to write it down. dominates. But every night, before I sleep, I see my soul every morning, Eva Mulligan, 1 I have arrived— Some little gremlin unlocks it. And every night, before bed. the Sea of Time is somewhere I wonder, who are you, soul? below. Its contents spill out You’re a mystery to me. In a sudden stream of lucidity. I wonder if there is a way I am confused and dazzled to get down the cliff face. And I can hardly breathe. I look, but now I can barely see my hands. The pressure must have been building Still, my legs itch All day long. to carry me forward. Bottled up in the heart, these I strain to hold, feelings— to see, to think. Always trying to claw their way But my legs don’t care. out. They bring me to the edge of the cliff, Stupid feelings. and, without hesitation, into the Useless figments of my 18 19 Melany Markaryan , Untitled, Photography

Geer

SLIPPERY: Stewart I walk over the stone below my foot, I see the mountains beyond the buildings, I watch the river flowing Many times in my day

Time moves forward, And with it we leave behind

— Isaac Levinger

Faker NICOLE NAMATH Whenever she talks, it’s like I’m downing a Pixie Stick Sweet, sickeningly sweet Lacking in any substance whatsoever But under all that sweetness is an awful aftertaste Like plastic covered in Splenda And that’s a perfect way to describe her Untitled, Photography Plastic covered in Splenda 20 Caroline

1. (H)IM/ER: Haack Have you been with death? His sweet touch on your tongue His bitter bite on your lip Ellis Her gentle grasp on your arm Her violent screams through 1, 2, 3 the silence Wu Their warmth upon your body.

reaching for sunday & beyond, Photography 2. 10-32: Complexion In the hallway 1. Middle Dorm South, Graphic Design to forever wander torn, blighted not but a prayer there is only fear

— Anthony Zhang1, 2

2. Street Vendor in Casablanca, Photography 3. 18, rue de Vaugirard, Photography Owen Rokous, Martha's Vineyard02, Photography

22 23 Ellis Wu, Casablanca, Photography Anonymous, temple, Graphic Design Jess Zheng, Another Me, Oil on canvas

24 25 Ellis Wu 1 2 1, 2 1,

A strange urge 1. Divine Intervention, Photography LUCAS PFEIFER I feel the urge to run Not a fun run A desperate run A run where my heart will burst Because it is better than the alternative. I want to outrun the rancid beast,

and the Persian hordes approaching marathon; But the only thing I can outrun Early Morning Ponder,2. Photography Is my mind, and its entrails. I need to jump a chain-link fence, To break out of my dusty prison cell. Failing that, to find A place to rest my racing head. Never say I never tried Because I have tried, and tried again. But running is a daunting task When you don’t know where you’re going. 26 27 Owen Rokous, Gone in an Instant, Collage

28 29 1 2

Owen Rokous1, 2 1. James Baldwin, Charcoal on Paper 2. Self Portrait, Collage

30 31 stared blankly at the screen. one has actually, like, talked? To you? You know? Like... I feel II like everyone has just been talking about you, and no one has I went to Jenny’s house a lot when we were younger. actually asked, and... I don’t know, it feels weird... like the whole Sometimes I would go on the weekend for a sleepover, but thing with your locker, and no one really even knew him, you mostly I just came home with her for dinner when my parents know? Not like you did, obviously. And I know we’re not super knew they’d be getting home late. Her dad was a really good close anymore, but I just wanted to let you know, you know, that cook. He would make pizza dough from scratch and let us put I’m here if you 2 whatever toppings on it that we wanted. Once, for her birthday, just wanna, like... I don’t know. You probably don’t want to talk. he made “dessert pizza” out of cookie dough, and let us put I mean, I know I wouldn’t. But, you know, if you ever do - I’m chocolate chips, ice cream, fudge, whipped cream, and sprinkles here. That’s all.” on it. The next time I went over, we begged him to make it “Thanks.” again, but he said that too much of a good thing makes it less I decided that it’d probably be best to just leave her special. Instead, he made this pasta dish with a lemon sauce and alone after that, but then she started to talk again. broccoli with artichokes. I told my mom about it on our drive “You know, everyone keeps telling me that I can talk to home that night, saying that we should try to make it some time, them. And I want to, I think, but I just... I don’t have anything to but we never did. say. Like what would I say? I can’t even say the words. It’s like Whenever I left Jenny’s house, her dad would give me when my mom... you know... it’s just... there’s nothing to say. I something to pack in my lunch box for the next day. My favorite cried for a while but now I just feel empty and hearing people thing was the brownies he made from scratch; I always ate them talk about it just makes me feel worse. So that’s why I’m here. before my lunch, even though he told me to save the best for Except now everyone thinks that that means I don’t really even last. care? In a way? Or actually, probably, that I’m just messed up The times I did sleep over, Jenny’s dad would blow and can’t process it right. But it’s not like anyone knows how to up an air mattress for me and put it in Jenny’s room. He process something like this, right?” would come in before we went to sleep and make sure we had I didn’t have an answer. everything we needed, and sometimes he would stay for a “Yeah,” she nodded, “Thanks, though. I wish I could while and tell stories to make us giggle. He never left without talk but there’s really nothing I have to say. I just feel dizzy. Like checking under Jenny’s bed for monsters and giving her a kiss all the time.” on the forehead. At the door, he’d turn back around and I’d say “I’m sorry.” I choked on the words. “I know he really “Goodnight Mr. Perkins,” and he’d give me a big wink because meant a lot to you. I wish there was something I could do.” he knew it made me laugh. “Yeah. It’s... okay. I guess? I’m just tired of everyone Ellis Wu, A Blustery Winter Weekend, Photography In seventh grade, Jenny got a new best friend and I looking at me.” said she needed a distraction, and that being home was actually stopped going over so much. Plus, my parents were okay with “I get that. I’m sorry. Again.” worse than being at school. She said her godmother had already leaving me at home alone at that point, so I didn’t even need a “Yeah. Thanks.” arrived in town to look after her and her sister. They weren’t place to stay anymore. I only really saw Jenny’s dad at soccer I turned around in my seat, pulled out my notebook, Jenny's Dad sure about a funeral because there was no body left to bury. Ms. games, but when I did, he always asked me how things were and pretended to study until class started. When I got home, Robbins’ face got paler throughout the conversation, and she going. I wanted to make a batch of brownies from scratch - the way ZOE BENJAMIN kept clutching her pregnant belly. I quit soccer after freshman year and after that I hardly Jenny’s dad used to. But I couldn’t find the recipe book, so I just Jenny thanked Ms. Robbins for her support and walked saw him at all. Sometimes we’d have a class event or a fundraiser, gave up on the idea, knowing that neither of my parents would Jenny Perkins walked into class fifteen minutes late on out of the classroom. Ms. Robbins gathered her things, shaking and he would come in with all kinds of deserts he’d baked. I be home in time to tell me where it was. Besides, the more I Tuesday with her shirt untucked from her jeans. The little green her head in a “too soon ... what a tragedy ... poor child” way, and always made sure to tell him how delicious the brownies were. thought about it, the more I realized that the likelihood of us slip she absentmindedly handed to Ms. Robbins didn’t actually followed her out. III having any of the ingredients was so low that it was just as well have any writing on it, but she went back to her desk without I ran into Jenny in the bathroom after lunch that day. Today when I got to school there was a clump of that I couldn’t find it. Instead, I did my homework, ordered a explaining herself. I turned around to smile at her once she sat I didn’t know what to say, but I think she caught me staring people in the hallway by Jenny’s locker. They were putting pizza, and went up to my room to watch T.V. When my parents down, but her eyes were blankly fixed on the whiteboard, so I because she shot me a “What?” look. I looked at the floor and notes and flowers next to it. I thought it was a little weird, and got home, I heard them microwaving the leftover pizza, and went back to drawing little stars all over my paper. I heard John walked into the stall, pretending that I needed to pee. She when Jenny came in, I could tell she did, too. “You know I didn’t pretended to be asleep when they came upstairs so that I whispering “Dude, are you okay?” but I didn’t hear a response. probably didn’t want me to know about Mr. Perkins, so I just die, right?” she said, and shoved her way through the group wouldn’t have to talk about my day. Ms. Robbins asked Jenny to stay after class. I, silently washed my hands while she sat in the corner with her to grab her bag. We both got to class a few minutes early, so I Later, when I was actually falling asleep, I felt guilty for awkwardly, had my next period in the same classroom, so I put head in her hands. thought it’d be as good a time as any to see how she was doing. pretending. It felt like taking advantage of something a person in headphones and pretended not to listen. I never actually On the news that night, I saw a story about a recent “Hey.” like Jenny probably wished, more than anything, that she still plugged them into my phone, though, and that’s how I found plane crash over Atlanta. I turned up the volume just in time “Hey.” had. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that out that Jenny’s dad died. to hear Mr. Perkins’ name read out in the ''injured and dead'' “I’m sorry about your dad.” the parents Jenny probably wished more than anything that she I wondered why she would’ve come to school that segment. The plane crashed into some trees about thirty miles “Yeah.” “How’s your family doing?” still had, are very different from the parents I have. I don’t know. morning, and Ms. Robbins asked her the same thing. Jenny from the airport. Almost no one survived. My mother made She just sat there. I knew it was a stupid question. I wished I could’ve just talked to her about it. But there were far a little comment about how tragic it was, and my father just “I’m sorry. I know that was a stupid question. I just feel like no too many reasons not to.

32 33 Rock FIONNOULA COLLINS My rock is gone Lost in a desert of tears When I thought it would never leave me

Oh the feeling of pain 1. LEFT: That swallows me whole When my protector You once promised me infinity Can barely protect themself , Maine03, Photography Rokous Owen you once promised me until the end of time Semicolon A wet cheek Had seen no wetness before a flash, a flash It was strong and stable tortured, scarred But I am now all alone a child, Cold. Who will guide me? Tell me I am worthy? Now I have only myself to guide Can I do that with my aching soul? Stranded without my rock Who crumbled right before my child-like eyes Leaving me for dead , Fes, Photography When they had kept me alive for too long Ellis Wu 2. DIRT: Tell me now what I should feel? True love, I thought If I had only looked up to a coward I would have kissed you forever All this time? hearts and bodies facing dark- What does that make me? ness But a lost soul Clinging to a rock newly shattered But my soul was just a figment A sunken reminder of my broken heart I never believed and always meant only a flash as I bid you farewell.

— Anthony Zhang1, 2

Ellis Wu, Candies on Floor with Legs, Photography

34 35 1 2

3 Pen on Paper Pen Graphic Design 2. Photography 3. Dreamworks, Museum Render, Invitation by Wheatpaste, 1.

1, 2, 3 Ellis Wu Ellis

36 37 even listening to me, she said, you never listen to me anymore, with a capital “T” brain-washed you into watching them she said. to make you less shocked when you saw real shootings on An art seminar in San Francisco, what a thought. the evening news. She hated green beans, mushrooms and It’s her mid-life crisis or maybe a new name for abandoning birthday cakes, insisting that it was far better to stick candles your family, Violet scoffed. If men buy fancy cars then into fruit because “When have birthdays ever been cheat women go to art seminars to paint their sadness away and days”. She hated chain restaurants and spoke about it often. try to believe that their hair will never be as white as their She hated sleeping with too many blankets and also sleeping canvas. Or maybe they just say they’re going to paint and with not enough blankets. Halfway through the night I would really they’re leaving forever. She rolled her eyes so forcefully wake up with no sheets on me, a fluffy white cocoon at my I thought they’d stay hidden behind her eyelids forever. I side. She could go on for hours about how the most annoying told her to stop generalizing and she told me to go to hell. things in life came in the smallest of packages, like the pencil Mouth full of iceberg lettuce and pasta untouched, she didn’t lead she always broke, shower caps, LED batteries, or Lord speak to me for another hour and I never figured out if she Farquaad from Shrek. She often questioned the evidence was sad, or angry, or both. Three days later, Yvonne packed behind what we said at the dinner table but was sure that her tan suitcase full of the few colorful things in her closet, carrots really did make your eyesight better, and that it was vestiges from the hippie days I thought she’d parted ways only a matter of time before the Sun exploded and everything with forever, and left in a way that was quiet and loud all at disappeared. She was positive like that. once. Quiet in the way she kissed me: short, no tongue, lips Without her, it was the first time the silence around moving twice and no more. Loud in the rev of the car engine me was accompanied by stillness rather than the feeling of and the hopefully unintentional slam of the door. Quiet in the bodies just outside of my field of vision. On the days that meal Violet and I had afterwards, when I knew better than Violet and Yvonne sided against me, I could pretend they to question her painfully small portion or call after her when weren’t there, but it was never as real as this. I could almost she left the table after five minutes. Loud in the sliding of see the picture frames emptying. As if testing the vastness the glass door as she disappeared far beyond the columns of of each room, I placed a record on the record player, hearing the Parthenon. I sat alone and drank dry white wine, my lips every breath I took while I waited for the music to start. As curling at the taste as I waited for her to come back. Yvonne, I it crackled, I leaned my head against fake velvet that smelled mean. Or Violet. Neither did. of dust and curry, knowing it was because Yvonne said my When we met, we were both sixteen and feeling nose was too sensitive whenever I reminded her to turn the invincible. I thought that no matter how many cars I drove extractor on, so she never did. The music seemed to bounce at 120 down the freeway I would still have fun and come out off the walls, noise not knowing where to go in a house used Tamia Lewis, Untitled, Photography unscathed. She thought that chain smoking made her look to silence - I beared the bass that made my heart skip a beat (or so she said). She grumbled about the lack of gold finishing cool. Fingers perpetually smelling like ash, she covered them out of pure spite. What use was having a record player ​and ​a until long after the sun had dropped below the horizon and in coconut hand cream and I liked her in spite of it all. The stereo system if silence was the only way Yvonne could think? she didn’t have to look outside anymore. The columns look summer before our senior year, we drove to the top of every Go to Violet’s room if you want to listen to music, she said, Love-Hate cheap, she said, not like I envisioned them, she said. Even hill in the county and smoked on the hood of my mom’s old maybe you’d teach her about genres other than rap, she said. Violet took her side, but then again she always took her station wagon, me pretending I didn’t hate the taste and the She didn’t see that I wanted to listen to music with her, cross Relationship mother’s side. I asked Yvonne what she envisioned but she feeling of cigarettes, her pretending she didn’t hate herself. I legged on the floor like it was our first day in this big house ignored me just like she ignored the sketch she made and would park two blocks away so her parents couldn’t hear the and all we had were four vinyls and a rug that doubled as a MISKA LEWIS hung above her desk, supposedly a drawing of the perfect engine and climb through her window at midnight because bed, a dining table, and everything in between. backyard. She’d forgotten about it and now glared at me over our little sisters were our confidants, staying quiet as long as Lately, it seems that Violet comes and goes with the When Yvonne was here, we never ate outside. It was a copy of ‘Eat, Pray, Love”, as if I was in the wrong, as if I they got five dollars out of it. Some nights we would just lie rain and thunder that has barely stopped in two weeks. It always too hot or too cold, too sticky from Oregon’s endless was somehow meant to see inside her mind and pick apart a together under sticky sheets and I would feel her breathing means I never sense her even when she ​is ​home, soft socks humidity, too infested with lizards looking for a place to bask floorplan. We stayed silent for a while, staring though neither against my chest and that would be enough. When she padding through hallways, a girl so light that the creaks I in the sun. Never mind that every cent from the sale of that one of us really saw the other. In my mind, I could almost started to eat less and smoke more, I took her to every beach know to listen for never come. Usually able to anticipate first car, the old white station wagon I’d had for God knows pretend her hair was growing down past her shoulders and in the state because if she was somewhere new the calorie exactly what floorboard will make noise, I sit in the living how long, went into redecorating the patio - she would have losing all its greys, lips were curving into a smile I thought counter in her mind would stop. For the four years that I was room and feel lost. I want to ask what I can do to make her none of it. Her dream was for it to be Greek-inspired, code they had forgotten how to form. I imagined her speaking, at college and she was half studying half being a revolutionary stop disappearing. I want to ask her for help emptying the for fake ivory, obnoxiously oversized furniture and tacky tone softer than it had been in twenty years. Suddenly, we on the streets of San Francisco, I drove four hours every tupperwares of food that fill the refrigerator, but the words tapestries that, as predicted, didn’t survive the first rain of were in the honeymoon phase again, when her skin was weekend, even if it meant going all that way just to sit in a die in my throat and all I can see is dark eyes too similar Fall. In August, she’d looked out the living room’s sliding soft and she smelled like pomegranate and nectarines and I room and help her make posters for marches. Especially if to her mother’s. The rational part of me questions my glass doors, a cigarette between her fingertips and her told her I loved her every single day. When I could wrap my it meant going all that way just to sit in a room and help her numbness and reminds me it’s only a month, consciousness brow furrowed, while her eyes followed every movement hands around her waist and we watched Stand By Me on our make posters for marches. speaking in the shrill voice of Yvonne after a sip of wine too made outside. Barely noticing her, three workers put up tall second date, and the necklace I gave her hadn’t rusted and I Horror movies were one of the things Yvonne hated. many. Still, the part that forgets this life can be more wants to columns that tried and failed to compare to the Parthenon remembered to not wear her watch into the water. Are you She said they were inventions of capitalism because They stay and wallow in nostalgia for a time feels so long ago the

38 39 memory of it is fading. A time when kisses were as common her on road trips so that she doesn’t count her calories. I Owen Rokous, Physicality, Collage as dust mites are now, and The Rolling Stones were heard wonder if that someone should be me instead of a boyfriend, louder than our voices - but never louder than the laughter. I wonder how much gas is left in the car. Perhaps They with It’s in this silent house that I rent The Exorcist and find it all a capital “T” really are watching me from my open computer. too easy to forget. Perhaps Yvonne with a capital “Y” cares. Perhaps it’s all a lie. As jump scares fail to make me jump, I eat green Yvonne loved her coffee with three cubes of beans with a tiny fork left over from Violet’s baby days. “​ sugar and rebuked anyone who questioned the idea of it scary music playing​”, the screen reads. There are too many as the perfect dessert. She loved porcelain figurines and blankets and nobody to steal them, cloth sticking to damp watercolour paintings. An outing was not an outing without legs and reminding me of being sixteen.“​crickets chirping”​ . I taking at least two hundred and forty five pictures of leaves wonder if Violet is home and I wonder if she can hear me and from different angles. The evidence was grainy, over-enlarged I wonder why I thought telling her to use the ladder instead prints that adorned more nooks and crannies than she could of the main door was a good idea. Now I can’t tell if she’s name. She loved apple cider donuts dipped in hot tea and here or far away, but I also know that those two things have making ratatouille for every dinner party because she said it stopped being mutually exclusive. ​“crying”. ​I’ve picked the looked like it took a lot of effort when, in fact, it wasn’t. Her slice of cake with the most sprinkles, half the swirly “H” and heart swelled three sizes with every Christmas mass, though a whole loopy “a” adorning white icing while the rest of the she was a firm atheist and went up for communion with letters have melted and created a sad pool of well meaning her arms crossed over her chest. It’s called being part of the wishes and buttercream. It tastes like sugar and nothing else. community, she said. Look at how beautiful the lights look, I think about the Sun exploding and not about the fact that she said. Come December, the oak tree outside could have the main character has just been thrown out of the window been in Whoville and fit right in. She slept with a hot water (“loud​ thump​”). I wonder if Violet has someone that will take bottle on the warmest of Summer days, she hugged me at

four in the morning as a REM reflex, and loved the thought as broken slivers fall to the floor, where they lay among dust of mismatched sheets though it drove me mad. Ask her the and sesame seeds from the bagel Violet cut and never ate. I time and she’d tell you time was a construct but invite you to hear soft thumps on carpeted stairs and look up. Yvonne’s evening tea at six in the same breath. House empty, house eyes, my face, hair that is a combination of both; a shadow of full, there was always a bowl of chocolate chip meringues on a girl but my girl nonetheless. In silence, she puts three cubes the kitchen table. For all her hatred of horror movies, sit her of sugar in her coffee and slides into a chair in the corner, down with Robin Williams and she was sold, eyes tearing up back against the glass doors - the curtains drawn because at the mere thought of his death. She was sentimental like some days I can’t bear the sight of the Parthenon. She’s so that. much like her mother that for a second I can’t breathe. You’re The pile of DVDs at the end of the couch is not doing it right, she says. I’ll help you. Let’s eat outside, it’s growing, looking more and more like the leaning tower of pretty out, it rained and the trees look freshly washed, maybe Pisa every day. I stand at a granite countertop and try my the lizard will be sitting on the chairs. Melany Markaryan, Merging, Digital Art hand at slicing carrots with a mandolin. It’s harder than it looks and I curse 40 41 Jess

INSIDE THE MIND OF A Zheng FRUSTRATED TEEN: Is high school love a love that’s real and true?

Graphic Design Multigrade, , Ilford Wu Ellis The kind that consumes all space in your brain, Where all the thoughts can creep and crawl and stew. Nor can the feelings melt by acid rain. The mechanisms of the heart combust. Obliterated by one single look. And beating heard from all around it must, Stolen from me the organ by a crook. The words spew out the mouth too fast too soon, Otherwise locked away inside a vault. My uncontroll’ble speech makes me a loon; Missed opportunity is all my fault. But hey it’s worth the time to try and fall In love because young love can conquer all. — Anna Jang Under Water, Watercolor

42 43 Owen Rokous1, 2 1. Martha's Vineyard04, Photography 2. True03, Photography

44 45 ground he was trying to escape, then, his back parallel to the question of whether he would do so in an embodiment or inside but foreign otherwise. It was in this lengthy glitch in slope of the steps, he accelerated toward a smile and a wave a display of his teenage spirit inhibited him. Disillusioned Nick’s analysis that he had been caught, shocked, and left to from an old classmate wading through the lake. with the experience of the peak, he perched onto it again. wonder whether his dreams had been realized. Under the Bad Sun A provoked boy in the water sputtered, “I oughta When a few younger boys joined him, he tried to help them The girl splashed within inches of Nick. Their heads JOHN GARBI teach you something!” by contributing a number of axioms and theorems to their blossomed above the water in sync and absurdity. Perhaps for The aggressor flawlessly executed a scared, helpless debate on whether “curly-haired broads” were more likely to the first time in his life, Nick felt that his words might be risky Nick rhythmically searched the jerking and jolting look, then seized the other boy’s short hair and coerced it give out than normal. He might have asked the boys whether not only for another but also for himself. He admired her of people he used to see around. A pack of girls returned to under the water with one hand. “It’s a beautiful day, boys!” they had ever seen the sun, but they began to slap each other adornments. Inky hair littering her bare, bony arms. A silver their umbrellas from the water and glanced back, perhaps he noted, while the others continued their game of shoving, on the back and point. orangutan pendant swinging boldly from the vine around by chance, at a boy resembling a German prince, and, in a splashing, furrowing their brows, and laughing maniacally. After some chatter, the umbrella girls sent an her neck as she buoyantly bobbled in the clear water. Strong- graceful response, he elongated himself into a regal backward They all took the sun relentlessly maintaining its tune high unwilling Kathrine all the way up the muddy path to invite willed loops of black hair chaotically and naturally strung dive off the dock. The girls half-saw his white shorts fly off above, visiting them metronomically, for granted. They used him over. Nick feigned interest in their games. “Well, sure. out, other locks matted down to her head. Tendrils reaching his equally white, permanently untanned thighs as he pierced its energy to happily deceive and leverage, while Nick, in his What time—” He paused, then added, “at?” out to spread well-being from inside her scalp. Above her left the surface. Almost instantly after, a gust of wind blew the singular burdensome awareness of the sun flowing through Maintaining a smiley patience, she responded, “What rib — a Venus symbol with a strong hand inside that distorted girls’ orange umbrellas across the beach. The sun, in warm him, evaded the jolting. A fly who drank from a revelatory better time than now? We haven’t seen you in ages, you off so with her heaving. Had she drawn the tattoo herself, or had swirls, shook them from dreams that they would remember puddle of coffee, Nick buzzed restlessly about the beach far away at school.” she seen it in a glamorous photograph? as vaguely forbidden. trying to follow the high-pitched sine-wave path to the sun He conceded and silently followed her, ashamed Suddenly, he grabbed and reflected a glance thrown A long-haired boy balanced on the pedals of his bike that he had memorized once when he was alone with his of his loveless awe of her saunter to the umbrellas, which sideways at him. Unable to distinguish between pure farce leaning slightly backward like a prairie dog squinting at a eyes closed, failing to see his vision manifested in real life, the girls had indignantly secured deeper into the sand. and possibility, he pirouetted and made a mocking face at forgotten light. His vision overwhelmed by the sun, gravity and suffering from an achy, sweaty exhaustion for his efforts. Conversations broke up to ask him whether he played an imaginary king underwater. He emerged again, and the yanked him down a series of wooden steps leading to the He almost dove from Devil’s Rock, a tall Midwestern slab of lacrosse and what clothes people wore in the city. strangers demonstrated with meaty guffaws their acceptance beach startlingly then blissfully — he looked up from the limestone sculpted by athletic glacial movements, but the His hands clasped behind his back. He looked at his of each other as two born under the same sun. Although feet then back to the girls. “Oh, I don’t really pay attention she might have perceived that their laughs were different to what people wear, and I find exercise to augment one’s in nature, one escaping responsibility for tragedy and one mental fortitude but lacrosse requires a strange pleasure celebrating the lack of it, it made no matter to her. She waded in domination over my fellow man that I lack.” Silence. He slowly but forcefully toward him and looked at him without felt unseeing eyes and the sweaty, confusing heat of the sun. expectation. Unsure of the nature of these semaphores, he hid Dreadfully, he continued in a fabricated fit of honesty, “But under the guise of an art-critic: “You can see in this revealing I’ve enjoyed vacationing in the city of New York twice now. portrait—” He checked one last time to see if he had lost It’s always very educational.” her before committing to his words. “Her smile is clearly Several bright smiles flashed his way. “Oh, wow! I reflective of a belief in radiance given without provocation.” must visit, mustn't I?” Confused but delighted by his eloquence and happily Another girl exclaimed, “Yes, of course, you must! Oh, obliged to return his playfulness, she cried, “Well, of course!” just the name of the place. The lights!” They each contributed Nick was drunk with the moment he had been a new concept to the discussion then shifted their attention longing for his whole life. “You’ve set yourself apart from the far away from Nick and toward their frequent subject of the others!” reliable kindness of all the beautiful girls they knew. Her head nodded downward from its previously Nick, in two-steps-up-and-one-step-down nods, flirtatious confidence, her dimples appeared as her lips labored his neck toward the sun. He thought of the constant pressed together, and one eyebrow raised slightly over the energy emitted from the great force in the sky, the eternal other. “What do you mean to —” root of all life, the major explanation for why and how Nick Now he was yelling. “To worry yourself is to doubt could find himself at that very moment and rejoiced. A tiny me. I’m not one of them, and I do feel as though I’ve been portion of the sun’s light had fueled creation and the first misinterpreted alongside you. Your effort to define yourself moments of tragedy and bliss. He knew he shouldn’t despair. on your earthly covering — futile. But, I know that your heart Even if he were doomed to solitude in his praise of its grace, burns strong under all of it.” the sun would never forsake him. He slunk back to the peak. If she hadn’t sensed his fragility, she would have After resting his eyes and then some time of restless shown her annoyance. “If you’re asking about what my tattoo watching, Nick experienced confusion of order: first, the means, it represents feminist power,” she explained matter- unanticipated second motion, the frigid water crashing of-factly. She gave Nick a restart. “Anyway, what’s your name, against his back, and then the delayed interpretation of the hun?” slender girl’s hefty smile as toward the sun and meant for He would have told this stranger about any of the no one. The girl that had pushed him off the peak? Nick had conclusions he had ever come to, but he was afraid to utter his shot his hand upward as he fell and grasped something that own name. He paused and remembered the sounds of jeering Owen Rokous, Expired01, Photography he thought he might never let go of, an energy familiar on the and laughing around him.

46 47 A long time passed of his eyes shifting restlessly in shadowed him, soaking up the glorious light from above just their sockets before she understood. “Oh! I remember. Nick! when he needed it the most. Alas, who could blame it? Greed Kaiser Thomas was talking about you being afraid of heights is but the natural response to scarcity. or something. I guess when I pushed you off the peak, some 2 part of me was trying to show you that there are people who care around here and still want you to have a good time.” She laughed and concluded that the distance between them had been resolved. But, the light of shared awareness died with yet another fraudulent smile. Betraying his lack of self-sufficiency, he accused her of ignorance and splashed at her. “Don’t you know it’s rude to push people?” He swam until the disturbing noises dampened into hollow distortions. Then, he let out a quiet sigh and allowed himself to drift further. A group of animals had defiled his true emotion, his righteous crown, with their crude tools of deception. He wished a siren or a bell or a scream could express this tragedy. He settled on a silent prayer to the sun: oh, please, overwhelm me with your light! But a cloud 3

1

Owen Rokous1, 2, 3 1. Triptych Projections, Photography 2. Biophilic Relfection, Photography 3. Distant, Photography

48 49 I want to tell you a story about my grandfather. I met him in the drawers of his house: tucked between lines in his journals, inside broken envelopes, and through reels of home movies. It was the old film projector that made my grandfather most vivid: the one that stood in his living room collecting dust for most of the year except for the few days when it would bring my grandfather back to life through films playing his adventures. He loved capturing life, preserving every moment in his 16mm strips of Kodachrome. Last summer was when I found a film named “Salem, 1936”. As the spools turned and the light found its way onto the mustard wall, I recognized my teenage grand- this issue's father standing on a dock. In this twenty-minute film, he captured every aspect of his life at boarding school: his friends, teachers, the odd traditions, and the pranks. When the featured pro- light went off, I knew I wanted to do the same. On January 10th, 2020, Faces of Kent was born. Equipped with three point-and- ject is faces of shoots and at least five rolls of film at all times, we began to capture Kent in a way that would have made my grandfather proud. The project is simple: students shoot what they kent. here's a see. When they are done, they pass the camera on to a friend and we develop the film. Every person sees Kent through a different lens and captures their own version on the black and white strips of 35mm film. While standing in the darkroom under the foreword from flickering red light that we have grown so accustomed to, we pull the negatives out of the tanks and watch the images appear in sixth former front of our eyes. Each one, a present brought back from the past, brings back the feeling I got sebastian kar- when I first saw my grandfather standing on that dock. The feeling of nostalgia for a place we know so well and a moment in time that is reth de miguel. long gone. Soon we found ourselves with over eight hundred photographs, eight hun- dred faces preserved forever. This project belongs to those people: every single one that has made it through the thirty dollar point and shoots and onto the hundreds of negatives. Faces of Kent has led us up the spiraling staircase of St. Joseph’s bell tower, to the RAD house, to the middle of the dance floor, and into many awkward interactions. The pictures, printed on three by two inch paper, have made it onto the walls of classrooms, stairwells, library books, and the ever famous: instagram.com/facesofkent/

50 52 53 54 55 The Cauldron is published annually by a small group of dedicated students and teachers at Kent School, a boarding school of 570 students in grades 9-12 in Kent, CT. Both text and art, submitted anonymously, are selected by an editorial board of students. This edition is set in FreightBig Pro and Halyard Display using Adobe InDesign. Allied Printing of Manchester, CT prints and binds the magazine. This issue was printed on paper with 15% PCW. All of the electricity used to manufacture the print of the magazine is generated by wind and solar power.