Table of ContentsSpring 2023~"Longing for Freedom" by Tony Taylor II
~"The Turn of Autumn" by Sariah Meeker ~"The Dead" by Amelia McCormack ~"What Girls Are Taught" by Liliana Palermo ~"The Face" by Milena Solarte ~"He's Not a God" by Milena Solarte ~"Fare Ye Well" by Reagan Needham ~"The Last Goodbye" by Alex Gray ~"The Convertible" by Graham Hobbs ~"The Short Fall of Love" by Zakery Beard ~"On Darker Shores" by Anonymous ~"Home Will Be Waiting" by Ludovico P. ~"Noisy Room" by Reagan Needham ~"The Dragons of the Mountain" by Meaghan Kelly ~"The Fauna" by Anonymous ~"The Center for Unwanted Attention" by Graham Hobbs ~"The Strong" by Liliana Palermo ~"You Were Perfect and That's My Fault" by John Nesius ~"Rockstar" by Amelia McCormack Fall 2022~"White Tiger" by Aaron Edwards
~"Morning Coffee Musings" by Reagan Needham ~"Butterflies" by Livia Weekley ~"Edits: A Free Verse" by Sariah Meeker ~"Lenghau" by Mioha Needham ~"A Portrait of Anok Yai" by Alejandra Jones ~"The Writer" by Sophia George ~"What Makes Love?" by Kate McCourt ~"The Liminality of the D.C. Metro: August 23, 2022" by Bryson I. White ~"What Echoes Off the Walls" by Reagan Needham ~"Untitled" by Meaghan Kelly ~"Faded Memories" by Bryson I. White ~"Time" by Kate McCourt ~"Upon A Walk" by Vincent Cruz ~"Lucid Dreaming" by Elizabeth Cawley ~"Wolf Stalking" by Zakery Beard ~"Leesville's Winter Wonderland" by Bryson I. White ~"Big Fat-Man: Super Generations" by Josh S. Powell Spring 2023Longing for Freedomby Tony Taylor II
We live in America, where freedom’s lost in our vicinity
With so many racist minds you don’t know who is your enemy Been beaten, robbed, and stripped of our dignity Forced to work here in a place without serenity Kept in chains for well over three times a century Now with broken prison systems to keep us there mentally They say “separate but equal” but my equal is a tragedy They want me to believe the constitution wasn’t meant for me 1964 that was the fix that came from Lyndon B Voting Rights Act so now we can speak independently But we still get suppressed by Jim Crow and his policy So we protest and make noise, like MLK it is peacefully We stand strong and fight on, searching for a remedy It’s at times like these we go to God, the Holy Trinity Then we make America the nation it was meant to be A land built by slaves but now is home to the free The Turn of Autumnby Sariah Meeker
The Deadby Amelia McCormack
As a child, he was taught not to fear the dead. Not to fear the footsteps in an empty house. Not to fear the dog that stood at attention for no one. Not to fear the whisper by his shoulder in the night.
“They needn’t be feared,” the elders would say, “respected, but not feared. They are souls caught between this life and the next, sent by Those Above who deemed they had unfinished businesses, unfulfilled responsibilities, and loved ones to be watched over. In Their presence, you must feel honored. Honored that you stand where someone sent by Those Above had a connection. Honored that someone worthy had an inexplicable bond with you. Never fear the dead.” And, for all of his childhood, he lived by that sentiment. He chose not to fear the footsteps in an empty home. He chose not to fear the dog and stood at attention for no one. He even chose to not fear the whisper by his shoulder in the night. He had taken comfort in the surety of his insignificance. He was only a child after all. When They were present he had known it to be coincidence. They had no reason to harm him, much less pay him any acknowledgment, and They didn't. So, he treated Them much the same. For this, he had been praised as a brave young man throughout his childhood. And somewhere along the way, he began to believe it. It was easy to be brave when you knew you had done nothing wrong, no reason to walk quickly through the night, glancing over your shoulder every few steps. But the older he got the farther he sank into a child’s fear. The older he got, the more he fled the empty house, the more he would call back the dog that stood at attention for no one, and he would always keep a lit lantern at his side. The older he got, the louder the undead whispered his name. What Girls Are Taughtby Liliana Palermo
Good Girl's Guide on How to get a Husband:
Be neat Be tidy Pick up after everyone Please everyone-- except for yourself The spiel given to us all, Throughout our whole lives from everyone we meet. “Your future husband” “Your future kids” blah blah blah. They told us how to appeal to men. They never told us how to appeal to ourselves. They gave us baby doll's and kitchens instead of monster trucks and police cars. They dressed us in pink flowers and never blue dinosaurs. If we liked something other than how to be a housewife then we were less of a woman. If we serve them and do what they want, we are less of a woman. If we do what we want, we are less of a woman. Are we not women because we are women? “Don't dress that way.” “It's too revealing.” “Why are you so covered up?” “Just wait till you are 18.” “You’re gonna be a great mother.” “Your husband's going to be very lucky.” “Do you always act like this?” “Are you on your period?” “No sweetie play with dolls instead.” “Be nice to everyone.” “Never say no.” “You don't have enough skill.” “You’re not strong enough.” “You’re not smart enough.” “You enjoyed it.” “It's what wives are for.” “You handle the kids. I do everything else.” “Always keep eye contact.” “She's definitely into me.” “She's too much of a prude for my taste.” “She's too much of a s- for my taste.” ”Don't make anyone feel bad.” “Be a good girl.” “Don't make your brother do it.” “Don't make your father do it.” “Go help your mother.” “Go help your grandmother.” “Go help your aunt.” “Name five songs from that band.” “You wear too much makeup” “Why don't you wear any makeup?” “Why don't you straighten your hair?” “I prefer your natural hair better.” “You’re crazy.” “You’re over exaggerating.” “You can never make it in that field.” “You should get plastic surgery.” “Girls with plastic surgery are fake.” “Think of your future husband.” “Do you want your future kids to know that about you?” “What will the boys think?” “What will the boys think?” “What will the boys think?” Is that the extent of our value? The Faceby Milena Solarte
He's Not a Godby Milena Solarte
He’s not some kind of
man you worship He’s not some god And you have to understand that. And if that is what you do, to worship him on your knees, I hate to let you know, that you’re in a dream. Do get back up, and swipe the purple off your knees. Fare Ye Wellby Reagan Needham
Fare ye well, ye mortal travelers,
For I am gone to the heavenly lands. Though my life be but simple, Knots of glory unknown to my hands, It is mine, and I lived it all the same. Fare ye well, ye tombs of gold, Who care not for the hearts that crave them. I am gone to the desert lands To find my glittering requiem, And abandon that which pulls asunder. Fare ye well, ye fields of stone, To the quarries and cemeteries alike. For ye are haunted marks and forsaken rubble And I am gone like the renowned wood-shrike, So small in its lust for blood. Fare ye well, ye rays of sunlight, For your days of reign were not eternal. We will miss that warmth as we brave the dark, To paths of faint remembrance and a cold most infernal As we are gone to the heavenly lands. Last Goodbyeby Alex Gray
The gates to the cemetery opened with a loud creak, echoing throughout the hills surrounding it as Samuel Jones stepped inside. Cringing at the sound, he froze, whipping his head around to ensure he was alone before letting the gates shut behind him with a soft clang.
Slowly, he made his way to the very end of the graveyard, pressing his lips in a thin line of distaste as his feet sunk into the waterlogged earth, squelching wetly with every step. He stopped at the second to last grave, kneeling down in front of it. Samuel pulled his hood down and exhaled deeply, focusing on the water droplets that began falling down his face, tickling his neck and slipping under his collar. "I'm.. Uh," he began, looking anywhere but at the name engraved on the tombstone. "I hope you're there. I'm sure you are." Samuel laughed, shaky, devoid of joy. "You're real special, aren't you? It's why he wanted you gone," he said, frowning at the thought of his father. All Vincent ever did was destroy. Rip people and families apart. Rip his family apart. "You're the only thing he's scared of. Talks about you a lot. I think he knows what's coming." Samuel could've sworn he heard a whisper in the wind that blew by, bringing a chill with it that pierced through his dark mahogany robes. "You must know what's going to happen tomorrow. I'm sorry. I can't save them, if I… If they were freed, you'd never get the chance to stop the cult again. Not without losing more lives. This way, you might be able to save them. Ronie and Aimee. The world. All the lost souls." The ritual was tomorrow. Tomorrow, the Hands of the Abyss would finally fall. Every single one of them. "I wanted to come earlier. I've barely been able to sneak out to help your friends, and even then…" Samuel trailed off. He fought back tears, hanging his head, raindrops accumulating at the tips of his nose and chin. Samuel hadn't felt the sun kiss his skin in years. Every bit of light in his life had been swallowed by shadows, led by Vincent. "Do you remember the thing I told you to never talk about?" he asked, the sound of the rain serving as the only response. "There were a lot of things, I guess. But that first thing, when I, um, told you the truth. That I didn't actually hate you." He inhaled and held his breath for a few moments, then exhaled, releasing years of pent-up feelings with it. "You might have seen a journal, outside in the courtyard. It was mine, but I'm sure you knew that. You were always so smart." Samuel finally looked at the grave, warm tears mixing with cold raindrops and falling down his cheeks as he read Jesse Valentino, engraved into the dark, mossy stone. "Some of those entries, words I left unsaid… they were all about you, Jess. I was gonna leave a letter on your desk or in your locker eventually, but I psyched myself out. I was so g—n scared. You know the rest." Silently, Samuel sobbed. He sobbed for years of lost time he could've had with the soft-black haired boy, for everything that was taken from him. He never got a chance to live a normal life, and he never would, either. "I still can't believe you're gone," he whispered after the tears began to slow, pressing his hand against the headstone. "Why did it have to be you? Why do you have to be the hero? It never should've been you." Samuel didn't know who else it would be. There was nobody better suited to take down the cult than Jesse was. "I always thought I'd get out of Ashfield, run somewhere far away," he said, pushing wet locks of muted auburn away from his face. He knew if Jesse could see him, it wouldn't be a pretty sight. His cheeks were sunken, his skin grey and devoid of life after years of rituals gone wrong. He was a wreck. "I went so long without having someone give a d- about me. I don't blame anyone for not trying, I was such a prick and I wasn't worth caring about. But you, you uh… You knew. I don't know how you knew, but you knew, and you didn't stop trying with me. You were so kind to me, even when I never did anything to deserve it. I know you never felt the same, but I hope… I hope you know you made me feel loved. You made me feel like I deserved more than I did," He fell silent for a moment, rubbing the sopping sleeve of his robe across his face. "You made me want to stay," Samuel whispered, finally pulling his hand away, turning his body to lean against the headstone. He leaned his head back, blinking wildly as water fell into his eyes and trailed down his face, accumulating in his ears and muffling the sounds around him. Samuel resigned to silence, taking in his surroundings for the last time. He savored the fresh night air, moonlight peeking out from behind passing grey rain clouds. He relished every breath, the smell of rain flooding his senses and bringing tears back to his eyes as he remembered dancing with Jesse in the rain, laughing for the first time in years. He brushed the grass beneath his hands gently, occasionally taking individual blades between his fingertips and rubbing them softly. He pressed his fingers into the earth below, the feeling bringing back memories of gardening with his mother. Samuel closed his eyes, warmth engulfing him as he remembered his mother's smile, as vibrant as the spring flowers all around her. Samuel didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he awoke to sunlight piercing the dark of night. He rose to his feet swiftly, pulling his now drying hood over his head and taking one last look at Jesse's grave.
He wished so badly to stay and take in his last dawn. To feel the warmth of the sun one last time. To experience the beautiful shades of pink and orange spread across the sky as the sun woke from its slumber. Samuel hated the sorrow that engulfed him as he reminded himself of why he couldn't. "Goodbye, Jesse Valentino. Come visit me after this is all over, yeah?" This time, he knew he wasn't mistaken when the wind brought a soft whisper to his ears, a gentle Samuel, don't. He smiled, bittersweet washing over his tongue, before turning and leaving the spirit behind. The Convertibleby Graham Hobbs
The Short Fall of Loveby Zakery Beard
what is love?
What Do You Mean? i mean what is it? Well It Depends On The Person I Guess what is it to you? Love To Me Is When Someone Makes Me Happy And I Make Them Happy i guess that makes sense. What Is Love To You? well, i guess its when i focus on that person a lot and make them hap- Oh Our Times Up, Thank You For Talking With Me I Enjoyed It But You Can Leave My Office Now. Oh ok um thanks. Yeah Whatever You Can Leave. i knew she didnt want to help me. i guess thats what i get for asking for the cheap therapist. maybe i’ll find a better one some other time. im home! Oh welcome home! thanks. How was the therapy session? it was good. What did you talk about? Nothing really. So it was good even though you talked about nothing? well you know- I know what? im not the best at talking about my emotions. Well get better at it. im trying to but the words i need to say just dont come to me and my head gets all jumbled and- Whatever. im sorry. For what? rambling. Just shut up and eat your food. We can talk more about your emotions tomorrow maybe. okay, I love you. Same to you. did you make this stew? it tastes good! … okay, never mind. hey, are you awake? no? well, you’re taking up the whole bed, again. can you move over? nevermind i’ll just sleep on the couch. Why are you sleeping on the couch again? well you were taking the entire bed up again. Why didnt you wake me up? i didnt want to disturb you. Just wake me up next time. okay i can try. Actually, um. what? Is there something you want to say? There wont be a next time. what do you mean? Oh my god are you stupid? Im breaking up with you! wait, why? I found someone better. oh- i thought you loved me. I did. But this other guy makes me happy. Happier then you ever could. He looks better, treats me better, and overall he is better then you ever will be. well i hope he makes you happy. i tried to make you happy. Yeah, Whatever I hope you find someone else to deal with your problems. i’ll try to find someone. I was being sarcastic you idiot, Now get out my house and stay far away from me idiot. im sorry i upset you. but i’ll leave you alone. i see her everyday. as i wonder the streets i see her with him. he makes her life so much brighter. he is perfect for her. as i sit on this building i remember her. all the memories coming back i know somewhere below she is being loved by him and cared for by him. she is probably laughing as she feels his muscles. this world has lost its use for me. i must jump. i loved her more then i loved myself. i guess that was my down fall. i hope she is happy with him and loves him forever. what a sad end to my story. but its the end i must accept I loved yo u u u u! On the Darker Sideby Anonymous
Somebody hid you in a forest.
Now you're lost trying to find yourself. You've started to act like the fauna around you, Those ferocious beasts, But somebody somewhere will find you and God I hope it's me (On the forests within) Somebody angered the sea I can feel the storm rising in me Rain is pouring and thunder is rumbling I crash down terrified and angry But somebody somewhere will soothe me And God I hope it's you (On the raging sea) Something stands between the mountains and the sea Between you and me I will keep crashing on this rocky shore And someday I will reach you (On the tide) Home Will Be Waitingby Ludovico P.
Locked away in a place I don't want to be
Seeing the world through different eyes than I was given Hearing a different voice speak my thoughts, Different hands trace my skin and Different fingers run through my hair Letting my hair grow longer than it should Soft features shown as my own Not recognizing my own name, With a hitch in my breath every time it's said. Masking my intention behind loose clothes Letting another person grasp at my vocal cords and contort the sound Letting them change the shape of my face and, Change my thoughts, Doubting myself and covering up with makeup, Dress up and pretend. Paint your face and pretend. Go outside masked behind someone else, making yourself go insane. Sleep being the only way to preserve peace when hiding behind a built-up facade. But, When you are ready, when you’re ready to stop pretending, And you put down the mask, Strip away the makeup, And put away the clothes. Your eyes will soon be your own Your voice will be yours Hands, once foreign, will become familiar and, Soft features will turn rigid As your face becomes indistinguishably yours. Hair will not grow long and Familiar fingers will run through it. Because, when you’re ready, Everything will fall into place And the home you have been searching for, Will be waiting for you And when you’re ready, your name will be your own. Noisy Roomby Reagan Needham
a swirl of voices little bees bumbling bouncing colliding so sorry move away collide again no one stands out no one makes sense droning drolling colors shifting lungs pushing prying grappling for air pressing into one wall of muscle rising falling together oxygen in carbon dioxide out static ripple equilibrium forever.
The Dragons of the Mountainby Meaghan Kelly
On the far side of the country, across the vast lakes and lethal desert was a small town, named Lindwurm, nestled in the Draconian Mountains. It was a local legend that a great dragon lived in the crevasses of the mountains that guards them from danger. The people of Lindwurm believed that to keep the dragon peaceful they must give sacrifices so they offered the dragon sheep with golden thread woven in their fleece. The rest of kingdom thought this was nonsense.
Elsewhere in the kingdom, the king was raising taxes and was just now reaching Lindwurm. Lindwurm was the main money making town on that side of the desert so the king assumed that the town would pay the raise. They didn’t. The weavers, the most valued trade workers in the town, refused to pay the extra amount, leading to the arrival of the King’s Army. The king figured that if they had a dragon in their pocket, they would be able to handle his best soldiers. Within a week the town was but ashes save for a girl and her dying older brother. The girl was special in the sense that she had flowing golden hair that reached her tiny waist. The brother was special in a sense that he was so selfless that he spent his last moments pleading with the great dragon so his sister could live a full, healthy life. Meanwhile, Lindwurm was renamed Fort Draco and was used to train young soldiers. A subliminal way the teachers taught one of the fort's principles was through rites of passage among the students. A highly popular test was to send the runt of the squad into the caves of the nearby mountains. Doyle was one of those runts. He had to find the dragon within the mountain. In the ten years of military occupation, customs and traditions had been abandoned. Though the belief of a dragon had not yet gone away because of the unexplained and regular earthshakes. Some soldiers said that the dragon was angry that it didn’t receive golden sheep any more. Though all the young soldiers lied about the existence of the dragon, Doyle was determined to see it for himself. Within the mountain, over the past several years, the girl had grown up within the darkness of the caves and the whispering of the shadows. She survived off the hoard of golden sheep and the glowing, underground pools of water. Lilith, she called herself, had a faint memory of her brother calling her that. She spoke to herself in the darkness to remember her language and discussed with the being she called Shadow, among her thoughts. She told herself stories about dragons, knights, and selfless brothers. Over the years she spent breeding the sheep and trying to find the dragon. One night, as she was swimming in a pool, she saw a glowing stone, purple and ethereal. She grabbed it from the bottom expecting it to be heavy but it was as light as a pebble. It looked rough but it smooth as if it were weathered by water for thousands of years. She returned to the surface and sat staring at the peculiar rock. Some part of her told her it was a scale. As she stared at it more and more an urge grew in her to bite it. She found the urge curious but eventually the urge became a need and there was no harm to it so she submitted to feeling and gave it a little nibble. She fell into dreams about her life before the cave. All fuzzy and vague but she remembered bits and pieces. Her father’s hugs, her mother’s laugh, her brother she remembered best: his big heart, gangly body, determination, and his face illuminated by the setting sun. She dreamed of soaring dragons, ruling the sky, fearmongering. She woke to the sound of heavy breathing, thick and warm. The creature had large, glittering purple eyes. Hello, Shadow said softly within her mind. As Lilith sat up she realized something was wrong. Her limbs moved differently, she felt something on her body, her skin felt different... there was something weighing her head down, her organs were scrambled. Something was wrong. What’s wrong with me?she asked Shadow. Look, he responded. She headed towards the pool and she saw the dragon of her dreams looking back at her. As Doyle ventured further into the caves the light seemed farther away and eventually it was only a haze as if a fog of darkness had rolled in. At some point he stopped seeing the traces of previous boys who had simply camped through the night, there he realized that he had traveled the furthest. He stepped carefully in the dark and from time to time would hear pebbles skittering and rivers flowing. Once he thought he heard a sheep bleat but he heard it only once and amounted it to hallucinations. He didn’t remember when but eventually the stone walls turned from rough, dry rock to smooth, wet walls. As he journeyed he thought about the town that lived outside the mountains before the soldiers. Lindwurm. All the books on the town had no real facts about the town. No one went or asked previous residents about the culture or the way of life. The scholars just guessed and pondered. When the town was taken over the culture was lost, nobody tried to preserve it and the survivors were persecuted for their different beliefs. As Doyle thought more on the tragedy he grew more dejected until his feet flew from underneath him as he slipped on the smooth, dripping rock. He was filled with terror as the freedom of the weightlessness filled him with a strange and foreign elation. A sharp pain struck his head and he fell asleep somewhere in the darkness. It had been over, what Lilith sensed, a year since she ate the scale and was transfigured into a dragon. Whenever she was in that form she was more aware of the goings on of the cave and could sense things. Like the young human stumbling through the caves in the deep dark getting closer to where Lilith, Shadow, and the sheep stayed. Shadow had warned her about the great violence of humans and especially their soldiers, who were closest. Lilith couldn’t forget her brother and absolute selflessness. If one could, then several could, Lilith thought in the deepest parts of her mind, away from Shadow’s reach. She found the boy- man, human, she didn’t know what to think of him- asleep on the floor near one of her pools. She was in her human form, with some adaptations for modesty, and she tried to wake him gently, like her brother used to do for her. He wouldn’t wake up. She used her novel powers to sense if he was alive and she saw his thoughts, a curious collage of memories of his life at the local fort. She didn’t want to intrude so she used more draconian methods of waking him. Through the thought. She made him think of absurd things, like maybe he wasn’t alone in the cave, maybe the sheep was real, and maybe the dragons he heard of were real. The reason burrowed deep in his mind was provoked and brought him to consciousness to think deeper about this. The human jolted awake. His nut-brown eyes, illuminated by the glowing turquoise of the pool, raced to understand where he was and why. Lilith altered his perception within his mind to overlook her as she knelt by his side. The human, who Lilith learned was called Doyle, started to rise from his place on the floor before he fell back down and clutched his head. Lilith reached in his mind again and when that proved fruitless, she sensed his body and found that his head and some some limbs had been hurt from a fall. Lilith thought she should have let him sleep, let his body heal itself, but that was then. He gently let himself up and he grimaced but did not fall a second time. He sort of crouched to the pool and gently pulled his limbs together and stared at the far edge of the pool where the glow illuminated onto the ceiling in beautiful waves. At one point he reached towards the pool with cupped hands but quickly retracted, his body still hurt. “Like silk,” he spoke. Lilith didn’t remember what silk was so she dove in his mind and saw a memory of a young Doyle tracing his hand over cool, liquid fabric in a crowded fabric room that Lilith sensed belonged to his mother. Lilith “looked” over his body again and sensed that he was badly hurt and from what she gleaned from his memories of the military, they would not stand for it. Lilith’s mind sparked with an idea then and she loved it and hated it at the same time. Doyle had gone unconscious from pain and confusion and had woken up from the absurdity of some thoughts but yet he couldn’t remember what they were. He had a primal sense that he shouldn’t be awake, his pain was too much but for some reason he couldn’t slip back into the darkness. He was at least content with watching the dancing lights on the rock ceiling that reminded him of the backroom of his mother’s dress shop. The memory led him to others like modeling for little girl’s dresses, then older girls and convincing old widows to by cheerful dresses to celebrate spring and flirting with young women to get them to buy old dresses that his mother couldn’t get rid of. They were fond memories that he couldn’t share due the absolute absurdity of it all. Through his reverie he sensed that someone was watching him and he slowly turned his head, careful of his concussion. When he turned back to watching the lights on the ceiling he spotted a strange stone next to him, he didn’t remember that being there when he struggled over to the edge. He picked it up and another thought ignited: Eat it. What a strange instinct, he thought. The instinct grew and grew and his reason seemed unnecessary. His reason was scared of the glow of the rock, of the misleading features, and of the mysterious appearance. The instinct was strong and eventually Doyle folded and gave it a little nibble. After Doyle ate the scale and left, albeit stumbling, Lilith sought after Shadow to tell him about the human. He found her and he was angry. What did you do? The cave rumbled with his power and Lilith’s mind shook with the power of his anger. I saved him, Lilith tried to reason. From what? His own stupidity? The true form of Shadow growled somewhere in the distance. He is a good man, I could tell. I saved him from the cruelty of other humans. So you left him to transform outside the cave amidst violent humans who kill anything strange. How will he know what to do? How will he stay safe? The rumble of Shadow’s anger grew and pebbles fell from the ceiling and the pool’s light flickered and its water rippled. Lilith wanted to cower but “dragons don’t cower”. She stood tall and shifted to a small dragon form and unfurled her wings and twisted her golden horns, an homage to her hair, and sped through the tunnels towards the surface. The Faunaby Anonymous
Hazy eyed, you wake up to the sweet kiss of the wind. Your body is cradled by moss, sheltered by towers of wood and leaves. You feel a pain surface in your shoulder from sleeping on it wrong. The smell of pine and oak greets you along with a nearby babbling brook; it had rained three nights ago, the water had almost run out of the creek. Slowly and hesitantly you rise to go find something - you aren’t quite sure what. A wave of dizziness crashes down upon you almost knocking you back onto your soft, earthy bed. Raven song returns you back to your feet. The harsh sound of the birds remind you that there are eyes looking out for you, although they may be seen as undesirable. Amongst the labyrinth of trees you hear the cracking of branches, you pay them no mind. The woods and the creatures in it never frightened you, no matter how dangerous. You knew that you were the most frightening of all, with your hairless skin, your proportions, and your innate desire for corruption of all that you bore witness to. Nature loved and welcomed you despite your dark, ugly being stained by consciousness. You ran into the wild to escape that fate of tragedy, but you knew it was something engraved into your being and your species.
The sight of an empty field brings you back to your surroundings; you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking, you were just… walking. Sunlight wraps around you saying, "Good morning my dearest child, I love you. Stay with me all day. Don’t leave." temptation clouds your mind, you listen although you know you shouldn’t stop. The day passes you and you notice the sun leave. “Good night, my dearest child. I hate to leave, but I don’t want to stay with you any longer,” whispers the sun, leaving you cold, hungry, betrayed, and least of all regretful. You wish that you continued walking and only basked for a moment. The moon tries to lighten the world for you and the stars try to guide you, but they are no sun. Wind whips you with its viscous tongue. The field threatens you with snakes, spiders, and beasts. You never thought something so innocent and gentle in the sun could leave you frightened and abused. The fact that the sun left you alone with possible deaths leaves your mind, you can’t help but ask for more and more sunlight. The wolves bay and sing you their melancholy song. You sing back asking for love and a home. They leave you answered and forgotten, something you had experienced too much in one day. Moon and starlight try their hardest for you, to give you a world beautiful enough, but all you want is the warmth of the sun. When will you learn to love the cold and dark? The Center for Unwanted Attentionby Graham Hobbs
The Strongby Liliana Palermo
Even after everything
Valiant efforts to hide away Eccentric marks on your body Nocent ideas swirling your head Thinking of answers to the question why Unkept armor hanging on a broken hook Arms tattered with ease Letting your knees buckle and hit the ground Losing sight of the future to come Years pass as you finally lay down, letting yourself go, letting yourself snap. You Were Perfect and That's My Faultby John Nesius
I don't know what perfume you used
But when someone walks past with it I remember all of it I can't handle all of it I can't handle any of it You were perfect and that's my fault You were perfect and now my feelings are caught Constant nightmares I’ve fought Constant mood swings; I'm found in distraught Your love can’t be bought Your love isn’t what I thought Your love is what I sought after You told me to change but I never did It wasn’t even stupid things, it would’ve been for the better Now I just write pretend love letters To someone who deserves better You weren't the best for me I was the best for you You were perfect and that's my fault Because our imperfections are what make us perfect And I couldn't list one imperfection of you Rockstarby Amelia McCormack
Fifteen Minutes. The roar of nearly 20,000 people filled the arena and pushed Ezra farther and farther away from the curtain. His knuckles were white around the neck of a half-empty, dirty brown bottle. Maybe that’s why he nearly jumped out of his skin when a huge paw clasped his shoulder. The leader of the opening act smiled an unnaturally large and bright smile, “Good luck, kid.” He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than Ezra, twenty five or so. “Can’t believe someone like you’s made it this big!”
Despite the blatant backhanded compliment, Ezra put on his camera face and returned the smile like he was supposed to, “Yeah, thanks man.” Smiles nodded and commented on the crowd’s excitement, but Ezra could see Smiles sizing him up. His eyes rested on the bottle in Ezra’s clammy hands and he smiled again, though this time a real one, seeming satisfied with Ezra’s discomfort. “Don’t let them intimidate you,” He pointed his chin out the left wing where they spoke and towards the black velvet curtain, “There’s only twenty thousand of them. I've played bigger venues. They’re probably just anxious to see you again. You know, ‘cause it’s been forever since you were actually on the stage.” “I’m sorry?” But, Smiles had already turned to head backstage, knocking Ezra square in the shoulder as he passed. No pressure though, right? Ezra fell against the black walls of the wing and downed the rest of the bottle. He got kind of a sick satisfaction from the alcohol burning his throat. He liked to imagine the burn spreading, warming his whole body until it reached his mind, comforting him with warmth as it burned away insecurities, and better judgment while fueling the fire the stage demanded. A blurred mind, a mind that couldn’t second guess itself, a mind that couldn’t remember the evening and regret it… It was a mind that got crowds on their feet screaming for an encore. Liquid confidence as some would call it. “Ezra!” His head shot up. Ronnie, Ezra’s longtime manager, walked toward him as fast as he could given his large frame. “The stage crew’ll be set up in eight they’re-” He noticed the bottle now hanging limply in hands hands “Jesus.” He sighed and his professional charisma melted away leaving only a very tired and frustrated fifty-something. If Ezra had a father, he imagined this is what his, likely constant, disappointment would look like, “Kid, what’s the matter? ” Ronnie grasped his shoulders, “Ezra. Look at me.” His eyes were heavy but he obeyed. Ronnie’s watery gray eyes were intense and serious as always, but, behind them, Ezra saw the man who had taken a chance on him when no other label had been willing to deal with his, ah, eccentricities.“Get your mind right,” Ronnie said firmly. Ezra stared at him blankly, then shoved Ronnie away. Somewhere in the back of his head, Ezra knew he was being unreasonable, but the warmth had stolen his better judgment. “If it were that goddamn easy-” He started. His voice was taut with anger as he slammed the bottle down on a nearby table with needless aggression. “Son,” Ronnie cut him off. “Don’t call me-” “I know this,” He motioned to Ezra’s general direction, “Ain’t exactly your fault, it’s that screwy head of yours,” Ezra faced away from Ronnie, digging his fingernails into the battered wood of the table, “But that don’t change the fact that you’re letting it control you!” Ezra turned about to yell something twice as nasty back when a short, stage crew member with a nasally voice interjected, “Sir,” he addressed Ronnie scribbling furiously on his clipboard completely oblivious to what he had walked in on. “Not now!” Ronnie told him in a harsh tone that was probably meant for Ezra. “Go make yourself useful elsewhere!” He waved him off. The crew member stalked off grumbling about primadonnas then Ronnie turned back to Ezra. “Kid, how long’ve I known you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Since you were sixteen and never have you gone off stage leaving a crowd disappointed, not got them on their feet-” Ezra laughed humorlessly, “Dancing to elaborate metaphors about my self-hatred and drug abuse?” Ronnie said nothing so Ezra pressed further, “Do you have any idea what that’s like? Smiling while they talk about how much they love that one song you wrote about trying to off yourself for the third time? Saying how much you love your fans while they break down every damn flaw you have then ask for more from you? Having to be a different person, not just on the stage, no, all the time all day. My life and success is built around a lie of who they think I am.” His pale finger thrust toward the current shook, his breathing was not coming easy. He was near his breaking point. He rested his hands on top of his head and tried to force his breathing back to a natural pattern. “That all may be true,” Ronnie spoke in a low tone, Ezra had almost forgotten he was there, “But you’re a good pretender.” Ezra stared at Ronnie, almost hurt by the words. Some childish part of Ezra had been hoping Ronnie would comfort him, offer him more lies to continue living with others, and certainly not the truth. “You don’t have another choice and you know that,” He advanced on Ezra, “You’re going to go on that stage and put on that smile we trained you to have, then you’re going to take pictures with fans and take every interview the media ask for and tell them to expect a single soon. Got it?” “What-” “I’m not going through this with you again! Tonight is important, and you’re going to give your everything to this show, in the way you are perfectly capable of doing! Am I understood?” A lump of hurt stuck in Ezra’s throat and kept him silent so he just gave a tight nod. “We can discuss this after the show, but you’ll thank me later down the line.” With that, he turned and began barking orders at the surrounding crew members. Ezra reached for his bottle only to find it empty and before he had the chance to get angry and shatter it against the wall he was swept off by a crew member telling him how wonderful he would be. ------ A Rockstar’s Return Written by John Doe Blackout. The crowd roars, and the drunken screams of thousands meld into one large beast of deafening white noise. White spots sweep from the top of the arena, down the crowd, and onto the stage chasing each other in circles till they form one large spotlight as fog rolls off the stage in waves. a cord of bass guitar vibrates throughout the arena. Rolling up the walls and through the chests of the hollering audience. They had been waiting for this. In June, world-renowned rockstar Ezra Lawrence, better known by his stage name VI, announced the world tour of his triple-platinum record Far From Heaven. Lawrence’s diehard fans, largely composed of young people similar to himself, were nothing less than ecstatic. But, many others, this author included, were left to wonder how much of a show Lawrence could deliver. While the awards for his album are undeniably deserved, aside from the album and tour announcement, the public has been given nothing but radio silence from Lawrence for the last two and a half years. Not even showing up to the many award ceremonies he was nominated for, some had begun to wonder if Lawrence had lost the passion for his craft… On August 1, the opening night of Far From Heaven World Tour, the first chord of one of his top tracks Burning Pire, echoes throughout the arena. The crowd roars as Lawrence appears on stage in an artfully tattered, modern suit cradling his signature guitar. Teenage girls in the front row screech reaching their hands toward the stage. He reaches down and slaps their hands. One girl mock-faints and is carried crowd-surfing style to the back of the pit. He stands, “Good evening, Nashville!” The crowd's uproar is so deafening that the first couple cords cannot be heard. Before the chorus is reached, he has an entire arena on their feet screaming the lyrics to a song he wrote in his bedroom eight years ago. “I always forget how much I love this,” He motions to his guitar then the crowd, “Until I get on stage, I love y’all. I really do.” Another track cues up, he throws the microphone in the air and catches it then belts a falsetto that could have made Freddy Mercury jealous. Lawrence evidently still has his classic flare for the dramatics, executed in a manner only somebody born for the stage could dream of replicating. As the confetti falls after the final song while Lawrence and his band pose for the stage photos, the crowd is already chanting for an encore. As they exit stage left Lawrence pauses and turns back to the crowd with a sly smile “Sorry, what was that? What are you saying?” The audience swells “One more song” Lawrence tilts his head as if considering for a moment then signals to the unseen crew and another song erupts from the speakers. If the audience's roar of approval or their chants for yet another song after the fact don’t show Lawrence’s return to the stage to be as explosive to the music industry, then one may also consider his demeanor on stage. Though it should be considered that the last time Lawrence stood under the spotlight was as a teenager, this author cannot help but note Lawrence’s almost unbelievable level of comfort, walking the stage as relaxed as if it were his home. All the while never letting his energy dip, always serving his audience entertainment alongside his music. Lawrence hits every mark of being a Stageman, somebody impossible to not be entertained by at his shows regardless of whether one find’s themself relating to the artist’s, almost shockingly, personal tracks. And perhaps that lends itself to what the public, his fans and critics alike love about the young star: he is real, he is authentic, and when he stands on that stage it is understood he is bringing nothing but himself and nothing less than one hundred. A creative, passionate, crowd-loving, assertive, but most importantly, authentic star, this author feels confident Lawrence has returned to the stage completely evolved and will be beloved for generations to come. Fall 2022White Tigerby Aaron Edwards
Morning Coffee Musingsby Reagan Needham
Fairies glitter in the night.
It’s a night like a knock, knock- Someone’s at the door. It's the fairies. They want their diamonds back. Blink once, twice; I am sitting by the window. I am a widow I am counting birds. Tunnels patrol the smoky limelight. Tunnels with eyes that eye the birds With unsated hunger. The birds are crafty. They build strong nests. The rain bids them time And grants me a day inside. There are chores to be done. There are hearts to be won. Butterfliesby Livia Weekley
Change is a strange thing.
One moment, I’m all in. the next, I’m rethinking everything. I think about all that could go wrong, all that could go right, and all the unknown. I wonder how long it will take to adapt, or if I ever will. I’m afraid things won’t be the same. I’m afraid things won’t change. And I just don’t know, If this is a good or bad thing. In every moment of every day, change happens in every way. Some small, some big, some seem just so insignificant, that we don't think about what to pick. Change can last forever, especially when your decision Is good and done. And now I sit and think, About these memories That can't be undone. Edits: A Free Verseby Sariah Meeker
Lenghauby Mioha Needham
the sound of a pencil sHarpening. turning. the agonizing, the shrill shriek of terror pulling full, unpleasant deep shudders from an empty idoka. it twits deeper still, though it is no more than an echo now. an aory in marble. unabatEd pulling. pulling. out. in. left. right. diagonal. until it is stretched-out cotton, tearing in the weakest places, halfway to nothing. no, not nothing. nallya. zero. although it is mereLy annoying to outsiders, it digs deep and buries itself, the point of the pencil. it sPreads. up, up it goes. around it goes. until it spits back out, black and gray and red and dripping down,
down, down and splashing. too Much. or maybe not Enough. maybe enough to turn me lenghau. lenghau. dead. ****
Words I created in Maserodil: Idoka - body Aory - echo Nallya - nothing Lenghau - dead A Portrait of Anok Yaiby Alejandra Jones
The Writerby Sophia George
Skin like chocolate, hair like night
She was like no other princess, she was her own Snow White No, her skin wasn’t like snow, nor like the lilies of the field Her skin was like the Earth, holding riches in yield. All the stories were of girls unlike her, Girls with light skin and hair so very fair She searched for a story about someone like her But there were none. So she decided to write one, She took a pen to the paper and began to write Filling the page with her heart well into the night Decorating each piece of paper with her stories to tell So that no other girls felt what she had felt. She had felt alone, in a world of mirrors but none facing her She was alone, with her skin as beautiful as the Earth The Earth who carried mountains of majesty on its shoulders The Earth who holds paradises’ riches in its soil The Earth who sends shivers through her veins. She wrote of princesses and queens from far away lands Of leaders and officials with power at their hands She wrote herself into every single story she wrote Reflecting all the other brown-skinned girls in the world. She called upon her sisters to practice self-love Reminding them with the grace of a dove That their brown skin is beautiful and something to love This, she swore by the stars up above. What Makes Love?by Kate McCourt
I have written many poems, but not one of romance
For how should I speak of a thing I do not know? Of love, I do, in the form of a smile, of the color yellow A journey beginning in my DNA or a bus ride in third grade Through a warm hug, a text when I miss a day of school A shared laugh in a car ride, a knowing look in the eye What does separate the above love from a romance? For I do know of devotion, of undying affection I know of effort, of embraces, of time spent together I know of conversations with no words, of a shoulder in which to cry A love in which I’ve heard, only imagined? Is cold hands, warmed by the holes of a sweater Flowers exchanged between two shy smiles A kiss shared outside a doorstep, in the backseat of a car All things of which I’ve been told, which I have seen on a screen But I’ve already shared the sweater, the flowers, a kiss, if only on the cheek What, truly, makes one love more true than another? The Liminality of the D.C. Metro: August 23, 2022by Bryson I. White
What Echoes Off the Wallsby Reagan Needham
what echoes off the walls
here i am i am here hello hi bye good bye god are you here because it seems like you are equidistant from us no matter how much you say you love us (do you love us?) are you real or are we just lonely and arrogant and desperate for meaning hello goodbye (are you listening) who’s out there i am here i was here (spray paint is my savior) are we worth this? are we alive? are we dreaming? please what will you say when you see what i am? do i disappoint you too? i’m sure i disappoint you (i disappoint me too) i see you i want you want you everywhere (hello hello) mess halls and linen closets rusted boilers and polished marble water slides locked doors knife (are you listening) hunter victim rainbow prism so this is what god is this is what we were searching for i am here right here right now (bite the hands that feed you) we are no one and everyone come find me know me be me live. Untitledby Meaghan Kelly
Last week I went spelunking with friends and there was a maze of tunnels at a very surface level. I got separated and wound up in a corner. The tunnels, like most caves, were cold and dark but unusually had skylights so you could see what you were doing. In the corner, I took the time to look, and I saw a beautiful sight. Amongst the cold dampness of the tunnels, I looked up and saw the rich, green leaves of the trees above filtered the light of the noon sun. The leaves overlapped so the rich green got darker in small bits. It was quite refreshing compared to the dark maze.
As I drove last night down the drive I went across the bridge. I didn't think it was too long, but last night when the moon was gone and the stars were missing it felt like I was in the sky. There was no difference between the road, the water, and the sky. The only way I could find the horizon was the reflection of the house lights on the water; they replaced the stars I could not see. The lights were just pin-pricks on land but their reflection was smeared across the water. This morning, before the sun rose, a thick fog was around. The passing cars had their headlights on, and with the fog, their headlights went further than normal. An echo. Just now I hiked in the woods, a normal part of my routine, and the storm clouds above blocked out any sign of the day and just barely covered the tips of the tall pines. I felt like the endless sky was obscured over a roof of clouds. Faded Memoriesby Bryson I. White
Timeby Kate McCourt
Time chiseled away at my face
Childish cheeks were slowly replaced With the edges and the angles of bone Time carved out two circles Right underneath my eyes Sketched, fill them with purple Patted my back, sent me to life Upon a Walkby Vincent Cruz
Upon a walk one might beseech
To grab an oak, or maybe beech And pore under the thankless sun Scrying for something to teach Ignoring poems wood has spun Paintings, dear with the hearts of men With pigments made of field and fen Will forever be left burnt By those that scoff and spurn and then Thinking of themselves learnt Thinking men have been thinking so That books are how knowledge will grow; Excepting pages built of wood, And ink made blue of indigo More secrets made mundane than should Lucid Dreamingby Elizabeth Cawley
Wolf Stalkingby Zakery Beard
*Inspired by Elizabeth Cawley’s wolf drawing
December 21, 1995
12:31 PM
I'm being told to write in this journal by my employer so I have a personal record of workplace occurrences I can refer back to. I can’t say I get why, considering all I'm doing is making sure that premarked trees get cut down. Even if it’s useless, writing in a journal seems like a fine way to pass these empty days. My shifts are consumed with simple, repetitive movements and a lifeless atmosphere, but the pay doesn’t leave me in a position to be picky. 7:29 PM The atmosphere in question is mainly sucked dry by Paul. What business does a frail, balding, seventy-two-year-old man have hacking at trees for a living? The only reason he hasn’t dropped dead from the strain must be to spite me. Ever since I got into this business two years ago he’s acted like a know-it-all supervisor despite sitting in my same position. Pathetic in a way. I’ll leave my complaints there. The work itself has been slow today. December 22, 1995
4:21 PM
Today was a good chopping day. I got nine trees cleared for new roads which are infinitely more impressive than Paul hauling just one. While my job is only clearing trees for roads and buildings, I must say this is some view. Being four thousand meters above sea level atop a beautiful mountain is like a blessing; even though it can be hard to breathe sometimes. Only bad thing is that Paul and I are the only ones around for about 200 miles, leaving a miserable conversation with him to be my sole pastime. Well, Paul might have a little accident if he keeps bossing me around and doing no work. I wish he wasn't working with me because then I could probably get twenty trees cleared a day and then I could go home early. I can't wait for January 1st when I can finally see someone from the company that isn't Paul. December 23, 1995
3:51
Only got three trees today because Paul wouldn't shut his trap and said he saw something in the forest and it was monstrous. I don't believe him but he made me get into the snow truck and get back to the cabin. I think he is just going crazy or something. He is always reading books about monsters and things about folk tales. He is constantly watching over his shoulder and saying he sees something behind the trees. I think they just creep him out so much that he thinks that the creatures are real. I hope maybe I will get fired before I have to put up with this for another year. But maybe he will get some good sleep and stop reading his stories so we can clear lots of trees tomorrow. December 24, 1995
7:42 PM
When I told Paul that I was going to go out and clear some trees, he started running through the cabin like a maniac. He handed me a shotgun and shoved a handful of shells into my hands insisting I should take them “just in case.” I think he's losing his mind, but I wasn't gonna argue with a gun-in-hand nutjob. I guess some protection can't hurt from whatever ghost Paul seems to be fighting with. To no one's shock, I didn't need the gun and the scattered shells he gave to me. When I got back to the cabin, all the windows were closed, and a piece of furniture was placed in front of them. Every door was bolted shut and I had to use the end of the shotgun to knock on the wood so it was loud enough for him to hear me. I told him that I got twelve trees cleared and he turned as white as a ghost. He told me to not go outside tomorrow but I don't care, I want to go home early so I'm gonna go out again tomorrow. While we were eating dinner, Paul talked about what he saw while he was at the cabin all day. He claims he saw something big; something unnatural. Figured I’d entertain his panic and asked for a description. He said it was something with a skull head and raven black fur and it looked like a wolf. He must be crazy, wolves very rarely come up to this altitude. I hope he comes to his senses so I don't have to ship my one coworker to the ward. December 25, 1995
When I woke up today I found the greatest gift I could ask for, Paul nowhere in sight. Santa must have read my mind. When I went to clear some more trees I must have gotten lost because I realized the truck was gone so I had to walk to the site and find the truck. When I finally found the truck, there were scratch marks across the doors, and the hood and the front windshield were cracked. Shotgun shells were sprinkled across the snowy ground. They have used a mix of used and full shells thrown around the whole truck with a boot print from what could have only been Paul's shoe. Paul, however, was nowhere to be seen. There were some trails but something in my gut told me to ignore them and just clear trees so I cleared three trees today. When I drove back to the cabin, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched by something. I feel like someone is always over my shoulder, yet I turn around and see nothing. I shook it off, I know one thing for certain, I am not as crazy as Paul. I can't go to sleep. My mind is racing too much and thinking too much to settle down. Hopefully jotting this down has eased my nerves.
December 27, 1995
I hadn’t gone to clear trees, instead I went to see if I could follow the trail. It was already covered in snow, but I saw marks on some trees and some feathers that were black like a raven. I followed the marks and found something horrifying. I found what could have only been Paul mangled in a tree with what seemed like every bone broken. He was pierced by a branch that made him hover in the air, lifeless and broken. His limbs were all bent in what seemed like every direction like a traveler's sign made by a confused author. His blood had dyed the snow around him bright red as if it was a carpet for him to lie upon. I could see his white jagged bones coming out of his limbs and his jaw, it was gone. What happened? His jaw is gone? WHY??? When I got a ladder to approach, I could see bite marks all over him. His body was completely scratched up. When I got his body down, I found his shotgun and it was bent and broken and some more feathers. What happened here? What was he fighting? I didn't want to find out. While driving back to the cabin I saw something. Maybe he was right, there is something out here. Something big. Something scary. Something deadly. When I got back to the cabin, I looked at the book he was always reading. I saw many horrific creatures but one thing caught my eye and it was this bird thing. With talons and it was huge. It had feathers covering its body that was as black as the night. Maybe it killed him. Maybe it flew down on him and picked him up. What am I doing? Let me get back to work.
I woke up and saw it. It's not a bird with large talons and snow-white feathers covering its body. It was a wolf, just like Paul said. It had a skull on its head that seemed old and it was cracked in some spots around the eyes and teeth. It's big and majestic. Its eyes were gray like the rocky mountains and its fur was raven black. Every breath it took against the window would fog up the window. Its eyes seemed to pull me in and before I noticed it was gone. December 29, 1995
I keep hearing this voice telling me to unlock all the doors and windows in the cabin and open them. The weird thing is that it's my voice but I've seen what is out there in those woods and I want to stay safe from that beast. I haven't cut any more trees down since I found Paul in that tree. With no protection anymore I think I will just stay inside the cabin where it's nice and warm and sort of safe from animals. I think a bear could probably knock the door down but I think that beast I saw is too big to fit in the doorway.
I hear something scratching the outside of the cabin at night. I'm not going to check because I would rather live through this than die being curious. I keep reading that book Paul was always reading but it seems like the more I think about that beast and the more I know about it the more I hear and see it. I think any day now it's gonna try to kill me so I should start to prepare to defend myself somehow. December 31, 1995
I made a spear out of some scrap wood and I think I can fight this thing if it tries to come and kill me. Help comes tomorrow to save me, but I can only pray that I survive that long. Ever since I saw the beast it seems like there has been an eerie silence. No noise is made other than me and the occasion knocking. I can't sleep at all and I haven't slept for the past three days. Every time I close my eyes I see Paul's lifeless body hanging from a tree branch with a carpet of blood beneath him. I feel like sometimes I can still hear his boring conversations with me. I feel like I'm starting to miss him since this silence is deafening.
It broke down the door. IT'S INSIDE THE CABIN. I can see it now. Its gray eyes that match the mountains seem like they are glowing with hunger. IS IT SEARCHING FOR ME? Maybe just for food. I AM THE FOOD!! It's raven black fur, with some feathers in its fur? The skull on its face. It's yellowish and broken near the eyes and mouth. OH GOD, IT'S LOOKING FOR ME. It has some feathers in its fur. IT HAS RAVENS WITH GRAY EYES IN ITS FUR!!! THIS IS UNREAL. AS IT GETS CLOSER TO MY HIDING SPOT THE SILENCE GROWS LOUDER AND LOUDER. IT'S MAKING ME CRAZY. I'M NOT CRAZY THOUGH I CAN SEE THIS BEAST, THIS THING WITH GRAY EYES AND A SKULL ON ITS HEAD LOOKING FOR ME. OH GOD, I SEE PAUL'S JAW. OH GOD, IT HAS JAWS ON ITS BODY. THE RAVENS USE THE JAWS AS RESTING SPOTS! IT'S COMING CLOSER! THE RAVENS ARE FLYING EVERYWHERE AND I CANT SEE THE BEAST ANYMORE! OH GOD, I'M GONNA TRY TO DEFEND MYSELF! I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M NOT CRAZY! I'M GONNA KILL IT! I'M GONNA KILL IT! May 24, 2007
Okay, so I found this book. Honesty kinda gives me the creeps. Oh, I feel like one of those vintage writer guys writing something. Oh god, what happened here? It is so weird there are some bones here and this book is pretty horrifying. There is a spear here like the book said and some feathers? I guess this guy liked this book. He was a wannabe writer trying to write the next great horror book or something. He is trying to be too much like Stephen King like nothing in this book would happen, he should have written about something other than a ScArY GhOsT. Well, too bad this cabin is kinda falling apart. It would have made a killer party house. The forest he was talking about in the book is all cut down now and a ton of tourists are coming to see the amazing view. This guy seems kinda weird like he was obsessed with that Paul guy, like I'm sure it wasn't that bad being around someone for a week. What a creepy guy. This book is probably evidence of some murder. Why am I even writing in it?
There is another book that talks about monsters and creatures just like the Paul guy said. There are some notes saying something about this picture in the book. It creeps me out a bit. It says “The more you know about this beast the closer it gets." Pretty scary not gonna lie. Well, goodbye scary book. I'm gonna leave you here for the next scavenger. I won't leave everything here, I like the look of this other book, it would fit nicely on my bookshelf and be a good read. Leesville's Winter Wonderlandby Bryson I. White
Big Fat-Man: Super Generationsby Josh S. Powell
Prologue: The Day Jeff Jackson Became The Fourth All-Father Of Jackson.
It was the Fifth Era of The World now and in 2062 when Jeff Jackson was thirty years old. He walked forward and all the people of Jackson looked at him.
“People of Jackson here comes your hero, Jeff Jackson who will now take the roll of All-Father of Jackson” said All-Father Chunky as he looked forward and he looked at them as he was standing on top a platform four hundred feet above the ground. Jeff Jackson wore a white shirt and black pants with silver lines down the ends and a red cape like rode with the words “Lord Fourth” ambaned on it in silver. Life has changed for him. Flashback 1 - 16 years ago - 2046
“Jeff Jackson, this is my brother, John, who is great at making swords,” said Jane.
“I heard about you, the great sword maker,” said Jeff as they shook hands and looked eye to eye. “I have something to give you,” siad John who took something warped in a red cloth and handed it to Jeff. “It’s a sword,” said Jeff as he unwrapped the gift. “Well it’s not any sword, but a sword that can control nature,” said John. “That’s crazy!” said Jeff. “Well it’s not as crazy as the legends of your father that are true so then this can be even more real than that because it is,” said John as he nodded his head. “Well thanks” said Jeff as he turned to leave. “Jeff even from just looking at you that I can see that you are just like Cheesy Jackson.” said John. “Well the legends are real,” said Jeff as smiled. “We are the generation that preserves what happened before by telling it,” said John. “Well that is correct,” said Jeff as he walked out of the house. “John is one of my greatest friends,” said Jeff as he walked down the path and the leaves blew in the wind. Main Plot - Part 1
“So what is the problem?” asked Jeff Jackson in the meeting room.
“Well we can see that a threat has risen up from the ground and if unchecked it will destroy everything you and your father fought so hard to achieve” siad Uy (one of the elders of the council). The All-Father was almost like a king, but not really while A All-Father will sever either until they die or when they step down from power and giveing the seal of all-father to the next All-father who will have the seal until he or she gives it to the one who comes after them. But if seen unfit or doing things that can weaken the country, that the council can remove that All-Father and replace them. But in order for that to happen there has to be a vote of five “yes’s” and if not “the no” must be more. The country of Jackson is powerful and stable thanks to the Second and Third All-Fathers. There was peace but a man who claimed to be Lord Borron brought back from the dead, attacked the country and the peace was put out of place. Jeff Jackson went to the front lines and he drove Lord Borron X away from there and he saved the peace for a time. But he did not fight in great battles that much anymore and he mostly did paperwork and only showed up in person on occasions. He stayed at the All-Father building all the time getting too busy and because of it, he was never at home with his family. At this time Nathan Jackson wanted his Father To pay attention to him and he never got that attention because his father was never there and Nathan hated the All-Father even though some people thought he would become All-Father after his father. Nathan hated his father. Flashback 2: 6 years after Jeff Became All-Father - 2068
Nathan Jackson looked above to see the sun set.
“Do you mind if I sit here ?” asked Jeff Jackson. “Why are you here? All you do is this all-father thing and you never have time with your family!” said Nathan Jackson as he turned to leave. “I know how you feel, I know how this entire country feels and you can see This country needs the All-Father because the All-Father serves as the supreme leader of the country and it’s protector and I am that All-Father. I really want to spend time with you because your my son and to be honest I have not been the best father I could be, but I want to watch and see what happens as you grow up,” siad Jeff Jackson as he put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Father, you mean that?” asked Nathan. “Yes I do mean it and do you know what we share more than anything else ?” asked Jeff Jackson. “Power” siad Nathan. “Well kind of, but the thing we really share is love, I want to give you the charge to let me heal our relationship as a whole,” siad Jeff Jackson. From this day onward that Nathan knew his father in a new light and begin to honor him greatly. Main Plot - Part 2
Lord Borron X was going to come back. “Evil is rising again,” said Lord Borron X in the darkness. “We will Destroy Jackson and then make A new land for us. The Age of Evil will begin soon.”
There were men in the dark caves and they devoted themselves to Lord Borron X’s cause. Lord Borron X was wearing a mask with an a x on it, it had two eye slots for his eyes. The mask was white with The X being black. He wore Black robes and a silverest gray cape like robe coming around his sides and at the same time on his back. He is The Darkness. He had a black beat and a place to keep a sword on it. He was ready for war. Jeff Jackson was keeping Jackson stable. Nathan Jackson was able to learn to respect his father in time and he began to like the All-Father. The next ten years were still peaceful but missions still stansted and by the time the ten years were over Lord Borron X came back but this time he had an army with him and marched across the land. His army was a total of 79,290,890 strong and he had tanks, missiles and bombs and they get got to the barrier of Jackson. “What is that...? It’s an army!" “Attack!!” cried Lord Borron X and a missile was launched and it destroyed a watch tower. “I will get to the All-Father!!” siad Lord Borron X. Jeff Jackson came to him. “Why are you attacking us!!?” asked Jeff Jackson who raised up and controlled the lighting in the sky. “To destroy Jackson!” said Lord Borron X. “So war is unavoided,” said Jeff Jackson. “Yes... I declare: the beginning of the Third Coming War!!” said Lord Borron X. “You will lose” siad Jeff Jackson. “You will be the one that will die!!” said Lord Borron X. “We will see about that!” said Jeff Jackson. “This time is not a time for talk but for war!!” said Lord Borron X and they fought. In 2073 the allied peace nation forces were reviewed and Lord Borron X started using clones two. Nathan Jackson fought in the ice lands and when the last of the battles there ended, Nathan was frozen in ice and forgotten. In 2077 Lord Borron X went to the city of Jack. He used his enemies to push Jeff Jackson out of there and for two years a siege happened. In 2079 Lord Borron X got into the city and he said “Demon forces join me in the final battle,” as he stuck the ground with his sword. A large vortex opened and a large demon came out with a demon army and they attacked the city of Jack which was the heart of the country of Jackson. The city was close to falling when at last Jeff Jackson showed up. “Look your all-father has come to die!!” said Lord Borron X as he attempted to kill Jeff Jackson who grabbed his sword in mid-air and knocked him to the ground. “I am weak now but I will..” said Lord Borron X. ``Death seal,” said Jeff Jackson and as he did it a arm came out of the sky and it took hold of the demon’s spirits and ploded them away into the vortex and the vortex was sealed by Jeff Jackson’s life energy. “Now.. just.. You!” said Jeff Jackson as he raised his hands upward and he had control over nature as a whole. “Time for this... to...end!!” said Jeff Jackson as he destroyed Lord Borron X’s Mask and saw his face and was shocked in awe. “You're my brother-in-law, my wife's brother... why ... just why did you...?” asked Jeff Jackson. “I had to,” said Lord Borron X. “So the real lord Borron is still dead,” said Jeff Jackson. “I betrayed Jackson A long time ago and became a follower of Lord Borron and when he was killed I felt empty because my master was gone and when the war ended and Zeus was gone that the emptiness of my spirit grew so large until I became Lord Borron X and made a oath to destroy Jackson and so I did what I did and now here we are looking at each other,” said Lord Borron. “I stopped you,” said Jeff Jackson as he saw the wound in Lord Borron X’s side and blood came down, dipping down on the ground. “For now you have, but I will return stronger than ever before and when that day comes, Jackson will fall!” siad Lord Boron X. “It’s my time” said Jeff Jackson. “Spending your last moments with me instead of your family must be dark, said Lord Borron X. "Even if I'm gone this country will never fall to the likes of you and my family will stand just like me and my father. We will fight until evil at last dies,” said Jeff Jackson as he was pulled into the vortex. “Never!” said Lord Borron X as his sword was grabbed on to Jeff Jackson and the sword went through his back. “It seems death will claim you now!!” said Lord Borron X as he looked up and saw Jeff Jackson rise and the next sec, that he was gone. The battle was over. Lord Borron X had lost. Jeff Jackson sacrificed himself to save Jackson and end the Third Coming War as a whole. Epilogue Part 1: The Day the Third Coming War Ended
The wind blew. Lord Borron X retreated from the city of Jack and went back to where he was from to plan his next move. The people including Jeff Jackson’s family came to see that Jeff was not around and that made them believe that Jeff Jackson was now dead.
“He did what we had to do to end this war and protect us. We remember him as the greatest All-Father ever. We thank him for all he did for us,” said Uy as he gave his final respects to Jeff Jackson. “We need to find a person to become The Fifth All-Father of Jackson, fast,” said Uy as he looked at the other elders. “I found someone,”said the elder next to him. “Who is it?” asked Uy. “Chin,” said the elder. “Get him and he will become the Fifth All-father of Jackson right now” siad Uy. And so they got Chin and he became the Fifth All-Father. Epilogue Part 2: Jeff Jackson is Alive
He was All-Father for nine years from 2079 to 2088, but he was one of the worst of All-fathers mainly because he tried to make a “Jackson empire” by force. He was removed from as All-Father and Jim Star, was made the Sixth All-Father. Peace was around now. Jim star was All-Father until 2112 and he died. Yj became the Seventh All-Father and was All-Father until 2154 and he died. For two years there was no All-Father some men journeyed into the ice lands and they found Nathan Jackson’s body frozen in ice. They got him back and unfroze him. They told him what happened and he became The Eighth All-Father of Jackson. He was All-Father until 5129 and his father Jeff Jackson came back from his 3000 year journey in space to find an evil that was at the edge of the universe itself.
This entire long time Jeff Jackson was really still alive and in 5130 he took his role back and became the Fourth All-Father of Jackson once again. |
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