Table of ContentsSpring 2021~"Destination" by K. Davis
~"Skeuopoios" by Lyric Chassin ~"The Last" by Maya Jones ~"Arizona Stars" by Stella Davis ~"A Winter Reverie" by Catherine Wen ~"Ode to Father" by Princesse Yemmey ~"Bubble Frog" by K. Davis Fall 2020~"Dusk" by K. Davis
~"The Survivor" by Jacob Dokulil ~"Self Portrait" by Bari Elliot ~"Midday" by J.J. Barnett ~"November" by K. Davis ~"Spiders" by Abby Phillips Spring 2021Destinationby K. Davis
Skeuopoiosby Lyric Chassin
My life is nothing but a silver screen;
The display I put on provides no truth. As time goes on, it becomes a routine And I long for the past days of my youth. Faintly faking faces for all around, I lose touch with my own pure emotions. So the real me fades into the background, And I no longer have any notions. My memories attack me everyday. I try my hardest to grasp what is there. But all I can do is pray that they stay And that my life may stop being unfair. I cannot control what happens to me. For what does my future hold? Wait and see. The Lastby Maya Jones
Arizona Starsby Stella Davis
I wait
as Arizona stars call out my name they've never been so far I belong among them as language tells I linger among wolves and wishing wells I wait as amaranthine souls crumble to dust and scatter as pollen spare me your beliefs I have none to compare I run unaware to Arizona stars. A Winter Reverieby Catherine Wen
Ode to Fatherby Princesse Yemmey
“Papa” is the name,
Though I have never realized How much you have done for me. You have seen my first days, And I will see your last days, Although I am not wanting this, You have seen my worst and my best days, You have been the first person that I go talk to. You protected me from the truth So I do not have to live with trepidation. You have taught me Not only to be strong, But to be kind, To be excellent in everything I do, To be wise in what I do, And to also be myself. To express myself, to know the difference between Right and wrong, Villain and hero, Truth and lie. All this to make me happy-- To see those twinkling stars all Over my face. To always see a smile on my face. Bubble Frogby K. Davis
Fall 2020Duskby K. Davis
The Survivorby Jacob Dokulil
The water was a murky grey, rain interrupting its smooth flow. Nothing but the illuminated buildings of New York could be seen from the slight drizzle that dazed the air. A medium sized ship floated around the water, heading towards land: the R.M.S. Carpathia. On the decks of this ship were people who seemed like they had their souls sucked from them, shivering like they had been through the harshest winters.
On one side of the ship, standing on the deck, was a lone woman who looked up at the sky. She felt empty of emotions but still walked about the deck trying to make sense of what had happened in the last few hours. Finally, the woman went to the railing and placed her cold hands delicately on the metal, warm to the touch. She clutched a blanket around her as the rain landed on her face. She looked at her clothes, once fine dining garments, now reduced to wet rags, then to the large green statue that welcomed the ship and its passengers to the city. If only these passengers could have been welcomed on very different terms. A man in a simple uniform had been walking around the ship with a clipboard, he came across the woman holding the railing. “Miss, may I please have your name?” he said quietly, not wanting to disrupt her. The woman turned her head to him. “Martha Howard Elise.” She looked back to the view of the Statue of Liberty. Martha looked up at the sky once more and closed her eyes. It would be hard to believe that just a couple of hours before, she had been on one of the most magnificent ships in the world -- the R.M.S. Titanic. Self Portraitby Bari Elliot
Middayby J.J. Barnett
Wind blows easily through the air as we take in the view
A worn in bench shaped and reformed from friendship Moment to moment to movement of trees A wrapping melody weaving the mood Sighs, some laughs, and a thousand promises spoken A bond never secret remains only true through ripples of change The sun shines bright on us through the moving clouds As the tune fades the disc stops, A branch breaks, And our bubble is popped Novemberby K. Davis
Spidersby Abby Phillips
“Now, don’t you dare go out of this neighborhood or in those woods,” Kyle’s mother shouted from the porch. He and his best friend, Matthew, were going trick-or-treating on Halloween night. Kyle was very excited about his pizza costume and Matthew had spent a lot of time on his mad scientist look. Matthew’s parents were very safety-concerned and needed to be convinced that it would be safe for them to go trick or treating alone this year.
Kyle’s mother was not as protective but wanted them to be safe at all times. “You go in those woods, we may never find you!” she always said to scare them from going in them. Nobody ever went into the woods. Everyone knew the stories about the witch that supposedly lived there. People said that as soon as you take a few steps in, you can’t see any way out and you are stuck until the witch finds and eats you. It was said that she had skills of trickery and deception. The story was primarily told to the children in this small town, but many adults secretly believed it. Not many people lived in this small Indiana suburb, but it was a beautiful place. So many thought it was a shame about the tales of the woods because they were so beautiful. Kyle and Matthew were in second grade and loved being independent. Mostly Kyle, who at most times, pushed Matthew to do things his way. Secretly, Kyle was jealous of Matthew’s intelligence but Matthew wished for Kyle’s courage. The boys had been out for only fifteen minutes and were nearing the end of their candy hunt. They didn’t want to go home yet, but there was nowhere left to go. They were about to start their walk home when out of the trees, near the end of the road, walked two girls they knew from school. They were two years older than them, making them fourth graders. They had always been nice to them, saving them from bullies and giving them quarters for extra lunch. Matthew approached them slowly, noticing something was off. The girls were pale and had glassy, white-washed eyes. Kyle followed behind Matthew but paid much less attention to their appearance. “How’s you get out of the woods?” Kyle asked, puzzled. “I thought if you took one step in there, you’d be lost forever! You know, because of the witch.” “Don’t believe everything you hear. Especially from adults,” one of the girls said in a monotone voice. “But you can believe this: there’s a house there. The people there have all kinds of things. Anything you can think of and more. You will be able to find your way out, like we did. Trust us.” When they left, Kyle was excited. “We should go in! You heard what they said, everything we can think of and more! We can get three times more than what we’ve gotten from any of these lame-os!” Matthew was not so enthused. “I don’t know, Kyle. They were acting preternatural. Did you notice?” Kyle was slightly annoyed by Matthew’s reluctance. “What are you? A chicken? Wanna go crying to your mommy? Do you need your blankie? A nap maybe?” he said in a mocking tone. “Fine, we’ll go in. But we’re leaving immediately after we get candy,” Matthew responded reluctantly. The two dashed into the woods, making sure nobody saw them. When they entered, they could not see anything but trees in all directions. The only thing they saw that didn’t belong in the woods was a house. It looked to be very old: one side of the handrail decomposing on the ground, the other barely hanging on. The wood looked rotten and had moss and vines growing on it. The porch had one half broken step and one of the windows was shattered. It looked like someone hadn’t lived there in years. But some people are just weird that way, I guess, Kyle thought. The only thing that didn’t look old, but new in fact, was a large black door decorated with a golden knob and a beautiful golden spider shaped knocker. After Matthew hesitated to walk up the stairs, Kyle pushed him all the way up, steps creaking, and made it a point to mumble words he knew were bad, under his breath, the whole time. When they reached the top, Kyle had nothing but sweets on his mind. He took hold of the knocker and banged it three times against the door. Matthew winced each time at the sound similar to a hammer on nails. The door slowly creaked open all the way to show a beautiful scene. A ways into the house, there was a large room, lit by a marvellous chandelier over top of a long table, set up with sweets of all kinds. There were bowls of chocolate candies, sour candies, candy corn, candy apples, soda, gummies, and more! In the center, facing the door was a sign that read ‘Trick-or-Treaters most welcome.’ Kyle wasted no time and immediately after seeing this, pulled his friend into the house and they both sat at the table. Golden plates displayed their goodies on the lace tablecloth. Many creatures lurked in the corners, in the kitchen, under the table, anywhere they could get. When the children had had their fill, they stood up to leave but found they could not rise from their seats. They exchanged a look of fear as they looked down and found thick webbing around their legs, strapping them to the chairs. Spiders, tons of them came from all directions, weaving their strong silk into rope like webs. The boys screamed and struggled but found it futile. They felt tiny, painful stabbing sensations all over their bodies. The spiders were feasting on their blood. The boys were too weak to do anything against this, and the webs were too strong. What fools we were! Matthew thought, as he looked at his friend who’s head had fallen back. He saw in his last fleeting moments, the image of beauty that had lured them to this trap, falling away, revealing nothing but the old house that matched the outside. The girls had been right that night. They had found their way out of the forest. But not alive. The spiders were controlled by a witch, indeed, to protect her house, in which she stored all her potions and spellbooks. Matthew and Kyle would never find that out though, and neither would anyone else, as the witch was smart and spelled the dead bodies to come “alive” so as to not draw suspicion. The boys' parents were never close to their kids, as the boys could no longer feel emotion. They would go through the rest of their days, not as humans, but as zombies. |
2020-2021 Literary Magazine Staff Senior Editors:
Bari Elliot (artwork) Ellie Waas (Fall 2020) Editors: Jacob Dokulil Alie Garcia Madalyn Hutchinson Kyla McGhee (cover design) Isabel Thompson Valentina Remis (Spring 2021) Kayleigh Wilks Contributors
FictionJacob Dokulil
Abby Phillips Poetry
J. J. Barnett
Lyric Chassin Stella Davis Princesse Yemmey ArtworkK. Davis
Bari Elliot Maya Jones Catherine Wen |