Lights and Shadows 2015

Lights and Shadows Volume 58 Lights and Shadows Volume 58 Article 1 1-1-2015 Lights and Shadows 2015 Follow this and additional works at: https://ir.una.edu/lightsandshadows Part of the Art and Design Commons, and the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation (2015). Lights and Shadows 2015. Lights and Shadows, 58 (1). Retrieved from https://ir.una.edu/ lightsandshadows/vol58/iss1/1 This Full Issue is brought to you for free and open access by UNA Scholarly Repository. It has been accepted for inclusion in Lights and Shadows by an authorized editor of UNA Scholarly Repository. For more information, please contact [email protected]. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 2015 LIGHTS LIGHTS & SHADOWS ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE vol. 25 2015 S Lights & Shadows University of North Alabama Distribution free of charge upon resquest of the Department of Art and English of the University of North Alabama. Literary manuscripts and artwork in Lights and Shadows are selected from University of North Alabama students. The winners are recognized in Lights and Shadows. The University of North Alabama is committed to offering an environment for both education and employment free of discrimination and harassment in accordance with all laws, including Titles VI and VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972, the Americans with Disabilities Act, and Executive Order 11246. Discrimination and/or harassment, in any form, based on race, color, sex, gender, religion, age, national origin, sexual orientation, or disability is a violation of this policy. 5 9 Editor-in-Chief Teena Patel Literary Dylan W. Schrader Submissions Editor Elise Coefield Promotions Editors Chamblee E. Smith Faculty Sponsor Daryl Brown Photography Jessica Pajaron Marie Merci Karera Cover/Book Design Briana Knight Art Faculty Sponsor John Waters 5 9 Art Juror Christopher Taylor ONTENTS FICTION POETRY NON-FICTION POETRY CNARRATIVE LITERATURE ALEX HUGHES Babel P. 22 JORDAN EDGERLY America Night (Best Poetry) P. 30 Stray Cats And Beer and How We Live P. 38 Bottles P. 68 Restless P. 41 KATELYN SPIDEL ANNA GRACE USERY Bith Control P. 14 Teachable Moments P. 45 Smolder P. 25 ANNELISE KENNEDY MARI WILLIAMS Street Kid P. 23 Inoperable P. 74 My Not-So-Humble Abode P. 31 MELISSA MARTIN AURORA Dying To Live P. 54 Working Days P. 27 CALEB BILLINGS REBEKAH MILWEE Muscle Shoals P. 40 Amie P. 62 Ferguson P. 13 SHERREE WEAKLEY CHAMBLEE SMITH Feminism P. 56 ONTENTS Mending P. 26 Kelly is Almost Honest P. 43 A Non-Relationship With Kelley P. 72 TAIMA NAGLE The Breeze In The Bottle P. 81 DYLAN SCHRADER A Season In Ennui P. 12 TEENA PATEL Terror And Agoraphobia In ‘Merica P. 39 Shoes P. 21 Smoke and Lies (Best Fiction) P. 48 Untitled P. 80 A Simple Love Song P. 79 The Salt Mine Of Dharasana (Best Nonfiction) P. 33 ERICA JUNEAC Identity P. 53 The Liquid Help P. 42 WHITNEY BERRYMAN ERIN COOPER Library After Hours P. 37 Plunge P. 78 W.J. MCCORMACK JAMES ROPER Statue Still P. 18 Upon Losing A friend P. 19 The Home P. 32 ONTENTS BEST IN SHOW DIGITAL MEDIA PHOTOGRAPHY ART 3D C 2D BEST IN SHOW TWO DIMENSIONAL Picked Clean p. 61 First place: Sculpture I’m Double Sided Pt. 2 p. 29 STEPHANIE GILE Mixed Media TIFFANY EVANS Second place: Nora p. 28 Linoleum Cut JESSICA PAJARON DIGITAL MEDIA THREE DIMENSIONAL First place: First place: A Theme by Jeff Richmond p. 46 100 cups p. 76 Motion Graphic Ceramics MONTANA SEWELL CLAY KRIEG Second place: Second place: Stretch Your Legs p. 47 Trophy Life p. 77 Digital Print Mixed Media Ceramic Sculpture SHILO CUPPLES WESLEY HOOPER PHOTOGRAPHY HONORABLE MENTION First place: Untitled p. 16 The Walk p. 87 3D Design Sculpture MARIE KARERA ALYSSIA RUSSEL Second place: Humanity p. 17 What Now p. 86 Mixed Media Ceramics MIRANDA HYDE KAT RICHEY A Season in Ennui DYLAN SCHRADER I used to let my heart leap inordinate distances—now it just sits in my chest, pumping blood through veins in the most quotidian of fashions. I was young, but maybe I was truer. I never refused wine, but Li Po was wrong about that. Die falling off of a boat grasping at the stars, and people start to question whether or not you can handle your liquor. No, I pulled myself back onto the boat and dried off. For the best, yes, but god I miss those libertine nights. I never thought I could see myself without my beautiful tan girl, but where are those ancient nights now? The days trample on like amputated pachyderms, and sometimes I wake up in the wreckage of their grotesque storm. Don’t get me wrong—I bite their ankles as they crushed me. I sunk my teeth into the filthy grey of their remaining limbs, and they let out an irritable objection. Nothing too pronounced, mind you—like the reaction to a mosquito bite. But this is in my blood—we don’t fight straight on, but bite at the heels. I am not Ernest Hemingway, nor was meant to be—I Prufrock around, wishing the romance built inside me could manifest itself into something other than inebriated despair. I am no man of action, nor a Papa of exaggerated masculinity. I demure, letting the idiot men of action have all of the glory. Simps in identical clothes. Cavemen who shave every inch of themselves. We real men ah ha ah. Chant loud. Me like boobs and jacked up trucks ah ha ah. I will spend no more time rambling out of my mouse hole. For if the fog lifts, I’ll see how dejected everything really is. After all, sitcoms still come on. I can sit there and take in all of the canned laughter for hours. 12 Ferguson CALEB BILLINGS Black armor against black skin. Both are illuminated in a hellish orange that Laughs and mocks all from the shattered windows of cars and buildings. The flames boil the blood of everyone and goad on the inevitable clash. It’s a dance done a million times before with each side moving forward then backing up; each afraid to be the one attacks first. Indistinct yells and whining sirens build in intensity until both sides can no longer resist and they erupt towards each other. The opposing black shadows appear to merge together but remain separated by a line of plastic shields. The flames dance higher and higher in ecstasy as twisted mouths spew demonic vitriol at each other. Finally that thin clear wall breaks and the old rituals of bruising skin, snapping bones, and cracking skulls begin. The morning sun greets the charred skeletons of Storefronts and sidewalks scabbed over with blood and ash. Horrified it retreats behind a blanket of grey clouds and denies the town its light. A forgiving November breeze rolls in to wipe away the smoke and shake the only light source left; A flickering sign that simply reads “Seasons Greetings.” 13 Birth Control KATELYN SPIDEL You said, maybe no And I shrugged happy shoulders And thought, maybe yes Slipped away and forgot That I used to be floating Inches up and laughing Because when you come to me I’m not really there I’m alone and pondering Not really you, but why I feel this way And when did it start, and when will it stop And I hope it does And I fall asleep I swallowed it, the dust and bitterness That left me sinking to the floor Revenge in my mWouth Dipping deep in my throat, my stomach, my blood Changing me, I’m Hitler And you have brown eyes Cracking me, I’m ice And the last thing I want Is to think or accept that I might be This ghost still tomorrow Of who I was, no, of someone else Because I was more wonderful, wasn’t I? But not this strong And not so correct And not so possessed With these demons, dearest friends Here to strangle me in sleep 14 Reflection shies back at the face Of a monster in her grave Perfect product of the night Not so pretty anymore I asked for this But at the chance that I might Forgive my ears their ringing You your panicked clinging This fraying rope its stinging Dry eyes note the red ring It left around my neck I ponder Not really you, but why I feel this way And when did it start, and when will it stop And I hope it does And I lie awake Remember ing how you said Maybe no, and realize It starts behind the mirror In the bathroom And I’m sorry So I’ll stop 15 ALYSSIA RUSSELL Untitled 3D Design Sculpture 16 KAT RICHEY Humanity Ceramic Sculpture 17 Statue Still W J MCCORMACK we stood statue still as the glue dried permanently affixing the googly eyes to our foreheads hoping that we could reach enlightenment despite the inorganic state of said eyes it is through static transmissions they chatter we can’t discern it 18 Statue Still Upon Losing a Friend W J JAMES MCCORMACK ROPER When I was 19 my best friend, Joe, drowned right in front of me. Him, a female neighbor of ours, and I were looking for a place to swim. We found it on the Goose Shoals in Green Hill, where his family lived. We all walked a ways down the creek, keeping to a rock shelf opposite the more accessible side of the water. Soon we found a nice shallow entry point. My friend and I then decided to race to the other side of the creek.

Load more