Elements 2018 Editor-in-Chief: Matthew D. Gamperl Faculty Advisor: Dr. Erika T. Wurth Editorial Team: Cheyenne Rideaux Maria Chiaradonna Morgan Cusack Jacob Barnhill Isai Lopez Carlos Arroyo Emma Dayhoff Red Haired Beauty Guilt Virtual Reality Sophia Gawron Sassed and Harassed Tim Bradish The Pasture Alexander Lounsberry Circles Road of Infinite Time Rage Against the Esteemed Kurt Messanger Clock of the Gods Infinity Measured by the Teeth Shelby Davin Riley Coercion Untitled Kaylee Gundling Orange Streetlights The Feast Entropy Tyray Ratliff Swallowed in the Sea Beach Peace Morgan Cusack Shadow Calla Lily How Not to Cope Patrick Page The Agony and Joy of Hunting Joionna Brown Inside Out Simple Alone & Broken Kenneth Speegle David’s Chamber Jazzy Thomas She’s a Hot Girl Koyo Masore Paraphrased Predicament Winners of the Lois C. Bruner Creative Nonfiction Award: 1st Place - Austin Middleton The Brutal Indifference of Life 2nd Place - Jason Cummins Shame in His Eyes 3rd Place - Kendrick Keller A Poisonous Idea Winners of the Cordell Larner Award in Fiction: 1st Place - Cheyenne Rideaux Blue Aster 2nd Place - Austin Middleton To love is to Bury 3rd Place - Marissa Purdum Flipped Winners of the Cordell Larner Award in Poetry: 1st Place - Claire Dodson Match Head Toxicity I Study Latin Because I Like Dead Things Constant State of Abstaining 2nd Place - Marissa Purdum A Love Story: Fog 3rd Place - Marcus Sweeten Hand in Hand Emma Dayhoff “Red Haired Beauty” Her hair is red, like that princess from under the sea. I love the way her eyes sparkle when she’s looking at me. Blue and always moving, like the waves in the ocean. I remain on the sand, watching her in motion. Her hair is red, like the cherry on top of a sundae. Everyone wants her on a warm summer’s day. Her skin is as pale as vanilla ice cream. When her lips touch mine, we are one team. Her hair is red, like the blood in my veins. There are so many feelings that I cannot contain. She is warm, she keeps my heart pumping. Like when we’re dancing, the music thumping. My red haired beauty, I cannot lie. I would do anything for her, even die. But she, she cannot see. She cannot see that she is the only one for me. My red haired beauty, what does she do? She holds my hand, and I hold hers, too. The freckles on her face have been stained with tears. Her unhappiness is one of my greatest fears. My red haired beauty, can’t you see? You have entirely all of me. But if you have to go, you do as you may. I will be here, even when you are not okay. Emma Dayhoff “Guilt” She is the first thing I think about when I open my eyes in the morning. Her green glazed eyes are all I see when I shut mine for the night. Now it is me who is running out of fight. Moments throughout the day I feel that nothing ever changed. As if she never left this world, never took herself away. And I am here without her today. I can’t stop thinking: It’s all my fault! It’s all my fault! Why did she leave me? What did I do? I am left behind without a clue. The guilt consumes me, plaguing me with a darkness in my heart. I should’ve seen the signs, should’ve prevented her death. Guilt overtakes my undeserving breath. If I hadn’t seen the life leave her beautiful pale face, this trauma would not be real. Yet I see her in a crowd of strangers when I know she is not there. Life is getting harder for me to bear. Eventually my grief will become a tolerable buzz in the background. But I know the guilt, the guilt will always be loud and clear. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. We had a connection, her and I, stronger than I ever thought. When she cut her wrists red, she bled me out with her. Beside me lies an empty bottle of liquor. The abyss of guilt I feel in my chest keeps growing deeper, darker. Her smiling face was all just a ruse for me to ponder. I guess it was her who I was fonder. Rage seeps into my veins and despair sits like a pit in my stomach. There is nothing I can do to focus, nothing to be rid of this pain. All I want to do is run, but I know I must refrain. No one can tell me how long this cycle will repeat itself. Was this her plan? To make me feel such sorrow? I don’t know if I can make it until tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time I slept since that night. The days are a blur, the nights are a rewind. It turns out the world is not so kind. Guilt follows me around, unshakable, a shadow at my side. Again I ask myself: What did I do? How do I go on without you? The only thing I can do is live with this debilitating guilt. With her untimely death, there was no reprieve. Living is the punishment I must receive. Emma Dayhoff “Virtual Reality” The bright, radiation induced light burns my retinas, As I stare endlessly at the screen too close in front of me, Forgetting where I am, who I am, and why I’m even here. Running, shooting, fighting, dying, reviving. Repeat. The slick controller clasped tightly in my sweaty palms, I don’t blink, I don’t think, and I don’t eat or drink, For as long as I can, I am immersed in my virtual reality. Sophia Gawron “Sassed and Harassed” “Why’d you just smack my ass?” I say. “Why’d you assume it was me?” His gray-green eyes are glaring down at me as I confronted him of his action. “I saw you do it.” “It’s not like you didn’t want it. I know how you’ve been looking at me while we’re working. You’re lucky that’s all I did.” His smirk sends a cold chill down my spine as he turns away from me to go back to making the pizzas. “Maybe next time I’ll give it a nice squeeze.” I didn’t want it. I’m sixteen and this is my first instance of being sexually harassed. I don’t know exactly what had happened, all that I know is that I did not want it to happen again. I had told friends of mine about the instance that had occurred at the restaurant I was working at and they had acted like I should of been happy it had happened. I didn’t want the attention of the eighteen-year-old boy that had violated my space as if it was nothing, I wanted to hide to make sure it never happened again. ** I’m at a party with my best friend and it’s freshman year of college. I’m eighteen and it’s first time really drinking while I’m away at school, never having been the party-type at home. After taking a myriad of selfies in the bathroom mirror, we are scrolling through the pictures, trying to find one to post on our snapchat story. My chubby cheeks are pink from the cold, and my curly short dark hair frames my face in a way that accents my glasses, my outfit consists of a lacy-white crop top that resembled an antique table cloth, red high-waisted jeans which accents my curves in a positive way. My black jacket is tied around my waist, just in case. It’s not too long into the evening when I feel my waist get grabbed. I turn to see two tan arms and white tee looking back at me. I look up to see dark eyes staring at me with a hunger that seemed much more than desire. “Hey, beautiful. Can I get you a drink?” Now, if I were to remember anything that movies and tv shows told me about parties, it was to never accept a drink from a stranger. “No, thank you. I’m good for now.” His hand is still lingering on my waist and I shift to try to get him off of me. Instead, he took that as an invitation to lean closer and whisper, “Well, I’ll keep an eye on you and get you one when I see that your cups empty.” He flicks my cup and walks away from me. My best friend and I are speechless as to what had just happened. Throughout the night, I feel his carnal stare pouring into my exposed back, and I feel violated. I look down at my outfit to see if there is anyway that I can try to be less noticeable, only finding out that I can put my jacket on, which doesn’t do much. I try to pull my curls into an updo of some kind but fail as it hasn’t grown long enough, just long enough to be an annoyance. Periodically, I make a side glance to see if he is still watching me. It’s a small house so there isn’t too many places to go. I make sure that I don’t finish my drink the entire time I’m there but that doesn’t stop the “kind” stranger from approaching me again, this time placing a hand back on the lower part of my back, trying to reach around to the front of me.