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Bl tzivy ink

Ivy Tech Community College, New Castlepoems paintings reflections drawings stories

issue two volume one Fall 2015

Fox and the Tree. Skylar Fox

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Half Moon. Larry Gibson

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With You. Lucas Vaughn

A chance meeting of two who were never supposed to. Lives crumble shortly after, only to be reborn like the Phoenix rising from the ashes of the past. A new bond stronger than ever before is formed, especially when we are together.When we are together I am happy. When we are together I am loved. When we are together I am strong. When we are together I am whole. Now you must go, go someplace far away from here and me. A place of knowledge and learning a place you must go and I tell you as much. Each of us resides in the other’s heart and we promise to meet again, but I feel your absence. In your absence there is melancholy. In your absence I am alone. In your absence I am weak. In your absence I am halved. Finally I can take it no longer and my heart screams out for you. Your love, your touch, your strength, Your presence. I rush to where you are desperately searching through the crowd! And then I spot you, in all of your beauty waiting patiently for me with a smile. I go to you with an embrace that shows all of my love. We are together again.

Uncommon. Abby Fuller

To be uncommon takes faith.Faith can move mountains.To be uncommon takes courage.Courage takes you places you never thought you would go.To be uncommon takes strength.Strength takes you through the valley.To be uncommon takes love.Love conquerors all things.To be uncommon takes hope.Hope believes all things are possible.To be uncommon takes peace.Peace works through all things.To be uncommon takes confidence.Confidence gives boldness to the boldless.To be uncommon takes grace.Grace says, “I forgive, no matter what.”When the world says be common take the uncommon challenge it will take you to places you never thought you would go.

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The Branches of My Heart. Skylar Fox

The Branches of My Heart. Skylar Fox

The hollow branches of my heart,Already I feel them crack.

They’re turning black, Turning black.

In my heart the twisted roots of love,Still are growing.

Growing deep.I feel them twist their way within.

I cannot breath.I cannot sleep.

And as my bitter love for youStill seeps inside,

I feel as if my heart has already died.

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Time with Death. Kirstin Neal

Time, the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. Time is infinite, time doesn’t end, and moments do. People do. Life like time is infinite. No one lives forever, but life keeps moving on. Even when our world ends time will still go on, so will life. Stars will live. They have their own life spans. And then they die.

In school, I learned that due to the speed of light and the distance between us and the stars, we see them long after they are gone. Like a ghost. Life after death. That’s why I used to want to be a star. So I could shine, and even when I’m gone I will still be seen, remembered.

I wanted to be around forever, but the only thing that lives forever is death, nothingness. Death, the intense fear of the word is impressive. A word that can either silence a room or bring it to a riot. Death has always been there. Nothing can live forever, except time. Someday even memories will be forgotten. Then with nothing else to take Death will finally be at rest. Death has been working his way through this world alone, a thought in the back of everyone’s mind that won’t be brought forward until it is time. Time. Time of Death.

“Time of death 03:07.” The nurse hung her head as she stared at the lifeless body before her. She sighed as they all backed away and started unhooking the complex machines. The body lay there, no sign of life what so ever. My body, my once vibrant body, sat there on the hospital gurney. I looked dead, I knew I was, but I mean I really looked awful. Like someone had sucked away my youth, my essence.....

When I died, there was no moment of ‘where am I’ or anything like that. I felt and watched as I left my body, I knew it was happening. I wasn’t conscious, but I could still see and I just knew it was a moment of clairvoyance. I stood there with my arms crossed as I watched them take everything off. My stepfather and my mother stood in the corner with no emotion on their faces. I knew they were upset, but I could also feel the relief flooding off of them. This last month had been hard for them. Guilt rose up like bile, making me look away from their blank faces.

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I stood there unsure of what to do. I stepped out into the hall which, unlike the room containing my body, was brightly lit. I let my eyes graze the many people running here and there, but they quickly stopped when they landed on something that made my face probably twist up in confusion. A person stood in the middle of the hospital floor. People passed by, but didn’t acknowledge the person who stood among them like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Something felt wrong; an aura of some kind, one I couldn’t quite place, rolled off of them. They slowly began to make their way towards me each step more daunting than the last, and I wanted to run but couldn’t. I was frozen, and honestly a bit too curious. I watched them walk past everyone, not one seemed to see them, and they stopped a few feet in front of me.

“Who are you?” I let my eyes wander over them, I don’t know why I spoke. I was dead they couldn’t hear me, but something about them felt different. As I looked at them, I took in their attire trying to assess them. They wore a long dark grey trench coat with big black buttons, a large black hoodie under that which covered their face, dark almost black jeans, and black shoes. There was a lot of black. They seemed mysterious, gloomy almost.“I’m here to take you.” The voice was male. Deep and husky, as it caressed my ears. I felt my face scrunch up, I probably looked unattractive. But I was dead, who did I have to impress?“You can hear me?” It came out as a whisper, but I’m not sure why. I felt my arms fall from their once crossed position. My head slightly tilted to the side as I tried to see under the hood.“Of course..., I’m Death.” If my heart were still beating, it would have stopped all over again. I don’t know why I was so surprised, I was dead. I mean I should have expected something. I could feel him watching me, and I let my eyes wander again to his hood, where his face should be. I still couldn’t see anything, it made me want to reach out and grab it. It was like the deep dark abyss, like nothingness or emptiness, the pure definition of death.“Where are you taking me exactly?” I asked referring to his earlier statement. I felt something take over, anxiousness perhaps, as I feared my fate. He sighed and held out his hand. I looked at it, and it wasn’t a skeleton like in stories or myths, it was a normal hand. It was pale, but it had flesh and nails. His hand was big, masculine a man’s hand. I looked back to the dark hood covered face. “Where?” I repeated myself. I tried to keep the weakness from my voice, but I’m sure he could sense my fear.

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Elturi. Jessica Tuterow

“I’m taking you to the council.” He said in a gruff voice. I blinked in response, dumbfounded. Before I could even get a word in to protest, he grabbed my wrist. A feeling, something I have never felt before trampled me. My emotions went haywire. I looked at him in shock trying to understand what was happening to me, but then everything was black. And as quick as it happened it stopped. I was suddenly somewhere that wasn’t the hospital. I began coughing hard, it felt like smoke had invaded my lungs. I thought I was dead, why is this happening! I quickly settled my hands around my throat. I began to calm down, but still felt frazzled.I looked around me to see everything was a matte grey. I was in a palace it seemed, it was huge. It had a high ceiling with a large chandelier in the center adding something serene to the room. The floor was plain grey tile, boring, but still somewhat beautiful. I heard the sound of footsteps as they broke me from my state.It was Death, The Grim Reaper, walking in front of me towards a large set of matte grey double doors with intricate carved patterns. His, I’m assuming, masculine build was covered by a trench coat and hoodie. He turned to me and stood there in silence, and since I couldn’t see his face, I stared at him blankly. I then realized his reason for stopping, he wanted me to follow. I quickly shuffled towards him and watched as he grabbed the large door handles, his head still turned my way. With a quick shove another room was revealed before my eyes.“Welcome to your judgment day.” He whispered.

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Falling. Lucas Vaughn

The troubles of the world rush by me

like the wind I feel them but there’s

nothing I can do so I just keep falling.

I look to the left and see another minute pass on the clock.

Looking at that is like seeing the ground

rushing up to meet me,

there’s nothing I can do to stop it,

so I look back up and keep falling,

until I hit the world again.

and I will fall

Laying in bed,

I stare up into a black room

and feel as if I am falling.

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Mountain. Larry Gibson

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Say Something. Abby Fuller

Say something to the stranger walking by.Say something to the homeless mansitting alone on the park bench.Say something to the child sitting in the classroom all by himself.Say something to the coach who just had a losing season.Say something to the single mom raising three small childrenbecause there dad lost his life fighting for our freedom.Say something to the teacher in the classroomafter the last school bell has rang to help the struggling student.Say something to the alcoholic who wants to pick up a bottle.Say something to the man who yells at his wife and childrenbecause he has anger problems.

Say something to the teenager who gets picked on at school.Say something to the unwed pregnant teen.Say something to the addict who wants to down a bottle of pills.Say something to the teen who struggles with self-image justbecause she does not have all the latest fashions.Say something to the cutter who wants to pick up a knife.Say something to the hurt and broken.Saying something might not save the world,but just one word can save a life.

Untitled. Kirstin Neal

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A Withering Rose. Jake York

Noah sat on the edge of his wife’s hospital bed. He couldn’t bear to see his wife in this situation. Just two months ago, she went in for a routine check – up, and came out with stage IV breast cancer. Noah was stunned when his wife, Rose, had told him that she was dying. It couldn’t be. Not his wife. They had been married for fifty – seven years. She had never done anything wrong. Why her? Why his Rose? Why his beautiful flower? On the day she had went to see Dr. Davison, Rose had been as happy as ever. She was eager to get her check – up finished with, but besides that, there was nothing wrong with her. Noah kissed his wife goodbye and sat down to watch the news. Three hours later, Rose walked in and told Noah that she had been diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer. Noah couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t have breast cancer. Not her. This couldn’t be happening. Why would God do this to his wife? Why was God doing this to his beautiful flower? It just didn’t make sense. Noah couldn’t see the purpose of having his wife go through such a traumatic event. Noah cursed God for doing this to his wife.

Wild Rose. Skylar Fox

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“Now, Noah, Don’t blame God,” Rose had told him. “It isn’t his fault. He has a reasons for everything. Don’t be mad at him. In the end, everything will work out just fine.” But Noah didn’t want to listen to his wife. He didn’t see the purpose of letting his wife suffer and eventually die. Rose told him that she was going to have to undergo chemotherapy treatments in an attempt to rid herself of her cancer. While Noah, didn’t want his wife to have to endure the chemotherapy sessions, he knew that there was a chance that they would save his wife. That night, as she slept, Noah held onto his wife as tightly as he could. Despite his wife’s words, he couldn’t forgive God for doing this to her. He tried to tell himself that everything would work out for them in the end, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop worrying about his wife. He continued to squeeze his wife as she lay deep in her slumber. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to feel her warm embrace.. . . . . Five weeks later, Noah sat in the waiting room in St. Vincent’s Health Center. Rose had just been taken back for her first chemothera-py session. He sat in complete silence, staring off into the distance. His mind couldn’t think about anything but his wife. He was too anxious to think about anything else. He had heard all of the horror stories about those who had endured chemotherapy. He had heard about the fatigue, the hair loss, the constant vomiting, the sickness, the weakness. He hoped and prayed that his beautiful Rose wouldn’t have to endure any of that torture. He wished that she would complete the treat-ments, her cancer would disappear, and she would go on living a long and happy life. But he knew that chemotherapy wouldn’t come with-out its side effects. Why couldn’t it have been him? Why would God make such a beautiful, loving woman go through all of this? Despite his anger and frustration towards God, Noah tried to force himself to believe his wife’s words. God had a reason for everything. He knew that. He had always been taught in church that God made no mistakes. But no mat-ter how hard he tried, Noah couldn’t make himself believe that God would make his beautiful Rose endure such an event. Noah wished that God would somehow allow him to take his wife’s place. He prayed that God would cure his wife and give Noah her cancer. He would rather endure all of the pain that his wife would experience. He prayed to God, but he knew deep in his heart, that God would never allow Noah to take his wife’s place. . . . . . Three weeks later, Noah knelt down beside his wife as she vom-ited up her dinner in the toilet. She had only received two treatments, but already the side effects had appeared with a vengeance. Rose had already lost all of her hair. She hadn’t been able to walk without her husband’s assistance in over a week. She hadn’t kept down a meal in the last five days. Noah could tell just by looking at his wife that she was losing weight. She was so tired lately that all she had done for the

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last few days is sleep. She was too weak to do anything else. Noah hated seeing his wife in this predicament, but he knew that there was no way around it. She was going to have to endure this if she wanted to get better. But Noah feared that the treatments may indirectly cause his wife more harm than good. He was afraid that his Rose would eventually wither away. Despite these fears, Noah knew that he had to be strong during this difficult time in his wife’s life. After she was done vomiting, Noah helped his wife back into bed and covered her up. He looked down at her and saw that she had already fallen asleep. Noah stared at his wife’s face. Since her treat-ments began, her face had slowly began to sink in. Her cheeks at lost their red color and gone pale. Noah thought of a rose, his Rose, losing the red color of its petals. Noah knew this was a sign that a flower was dying. The sight of his wife’s withering face brought tears to Noah’s eyes. He gently placed a kiss on his wife’s forehead. Then, he left her alone to sleep. . . . . That night, Noah lay on his side of the bed in a deep sleep. He was exhausted from caring for his wife all day and all night. But he knew that he had to help his wife get through her treatments. He couldn’t take away her cancer, but he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she survives it. All of the sudden, Noah was awoken by a loud thud and the blood curdling screams of his wife. He turned and saw that his wife was no longer on her side of the bed. Noah jumped up and ran to the other side of the bed. He saw Rose, flat on her back on the floor. Apparently, she had rolled out of the bed while she slept. Oh No! Oh God! How could he have let this happen? How could he have let his wife roll out of the bed? It was all his fault. What could he have done? Noah quickly ran to his wife’s side. She was still screaming, but she wasn’t moving. She was as stiff as a board. Noah placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and tried to calm her down, but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t comfort her or stop her shrieking. Noah quickly ran to the phone. He dialed 911 and told the operator what had happened. The operator told him that an ambu-lance was on its way and that it would be there shortly. Noah hung up the phone and ran back to his wife. She had not moved from her original position and she was still howling. Noah tried to get his wife’s attention, but it was as if she had gone blind to the world around her. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything. All she could do, was feel the pain. Noah felt helpless. He couldn’t do any-thing to help his wife. All he could do, was wait for the ambulance to arrive.. . . . . Ten minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics tried to stop Rose’s shrieking, but to no avail. They loaded Rose onto a gurney and escorted her outside. Noah climbed in the back of the

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ambulance with his wife and the paramedics. The ambulance sped off into the night as it carried its passengers to the hospital. . . . . . Two hours later, Noah was sitting in the waiting room. After they had arrived at the hospital, Rose was taken back to the emergency room. Noah was left alone out in the waiting room. He sat in complete silence. Noah began shaking shortly after he had sat down. He was so nervous. What would the doctor say when he was done examining Rose? Would he say that everything was fine and that she had just suf-fered a minor side effect of the chemotherapy? Would he say that Rose’s cancer had disappeared after her fall? Or would he come back with bad news? Was his wife going to be okay? Noah was overwhelmed with anxi-ety. All he could do was wait for the doctor to arrive with his diagnosis.. . . . . Thirty minutes later, Noah saw Dr. Johnson walk out of the emergency room. Noah instantly stood up and greeted Dr. Johnson. Noah’s heart was pounding as he waited for Dr. Johnson to deliver the news. “Noah, I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Dr. Johnson said. “It appears that the chemotherapy treatments were too much for your wife’s body to endure. We don’t exactly know why, but for some reason, after her fall, all of Rose’s internal organs began shutting down. Right now,

Horizon. Larry Gibson

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she is in a medically induced coma. You should go in and see her, Noah. We don’t know how much longer she is going to be here with us.” Noah’s heart sank at the sound of Dr. Johnson’s words. It couldn’t be. Not his wife. Not his beautiful flower. Why would God do this to her? Why would God leave Noah here all alone? Noah’s eyes filled with tears as he slowly made his way back to find his wife. Noah walked into his wife’s hospital room. His heart broke at the sight of his wife. Noah saw his poor Rose, a beautiful flower in a garden of sadness. Her face was tired and pale. She lay in her hospital bed, deep in her medically induced coma. Noah tried to convince himself that she was in a deep sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the fact that she was actually in a coma. Although his wife was quickly withering away, she was still the most beautiful flower in his garden. Noah sat on the edge of his wife’s hospital bed. His eyes filled with tears as he gently enclosed his hand over his wife’s. He sat in complete silence. The only sound was that of the heart monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep. Noah listened to the heart monitors signals notifying him that his wife’s heart was still beating. He couldn’t believe it. How was this possible? Just two months ago, his wife was a happy, beautiful, flawless red rose in his garden. But now, she was rapidly withering away. Her leaves were wilted. Her petals had lost their color and began to fall off. He could no longer deny that his beautiful flower was dying. The tears in No-ah’s eyes poured over his eyelids. He began to quietly cry to himself. All of the sudden, Noah felt his wife’s hand lightly squeeze his own. Noah’s heart skipped a beat when he felt it. Had he imagined it? Noah slowly looked up and seen his wife’s beautiful blue eyes fixated on him. The sight of his wife’s eyes brought a huge smile to his face. She was awake. He knew that everything was going to be alright. Rose had enough strength to say three short words to him. “I love you,” she said, her voice tired and weak. After she let out these words, her eyes slowly shut. The heart monitors beeping was replaced with the endless whine that notified a doctor that their patient’s heart had stopped beating. It was all too much for Noah to handle. He knew that his wife had left this world and passed on to the next. More tears flowed out of Noah’s eyes. Noah knew that his heart would be forever broken. He had lost his wife. He had lost his best friend. He had lost the love of his life. After a fifty – seven year journey, his beautiful flower had with-ered and lost her petals. He knew, deep in his heart, that his garden would never be as beautiful without his Rose in it. He pulled himself onto his wife’s bed and wrapped his arms around her body. He knew that this would be the last time that he would ever feel her warm embrace. With every passing second, he felt her warm body growing colder and colder. Tears continued to pour out of Noah’s eyes. As he squeezed his wife’s body tighter than he ever had before. For he knew that this would be the last time that he would ever get to hold his Rose. His beautiful flower.

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Twin Peaks. Larry Gibson

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...To The Mailbox. Maddie Wallace

Blue morning.

The sun broke the barrier of miles, refuting all laws of time and order. To turn your eyes up was to get lost in the infinite azure, a virtuous expanse unmarred by clouds or birds or even the exhale of a jet plane. It was just there, spread in front of her like butter on toast, dripping down the sides of the earth until it was pinned to reality through an influx of tree branches, roof peaks. It trickled on down the outlines of windowsills and rain gutters until it pooled into truck beds and against bicycle handles. That’s where the trance ended, at least for Jude.

She walked, her hair loose and down against her shoulders. She missed the few inches that had come off only a week ago, right before break commenced. She was in her green jammies, worshipped to the point that they were pilled and faded and now mostly see-through. She had a carton of apple juice in one hand, in the other every last one of her hopes and dreams, aspirations; a catalogue of all her hard times and the triumphant.

Lost & Forgotten. Rita West

I put it in a box, under my dresser. No, it’s not there!It is in my closet, under the picture box. No, it’s not there!I put it in the kitchen, in a box under the sink. No, it’s not there!I know it’s in the upstairs closet, behind the sheets and blankets. No, it’s not there!I thought I knew where it is, it must be lost or I have just forgotten!

Horizon. Maddie Wallace 

Miles above the rest of the world it seems Looking down This place propels me into being brazen It makes me want crazy things That I only mean For that moment But I’m high on life Feeling this breeze The sunshine touching The palm of the world Offering its Shimmering gold To me And what a place this is to be

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Angel. Jessica Tuterow

Picture Perfect. Abby Fuller

I look at a picture frame with a picture starring back at me.The picture appears to be perfect, but is it truly perfect.On the outside the smile is bright, white, and beautiful.

Through the picture frame can you see the hurt, the pain, the scares, and the loneliness?In real life if you take the blinders of life off, and stared at the picture perfect picture you

would see that it is far from perfect.You will see there is way more to the picture than meets with the eye.

If you look hard and close enough you will see the scars, and hurt life has brought.Life is not as it always seems, remember it will not be picture perfect, but with the right

items in the frame it will be pretty close.

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Angel. Jessica Tuterow

Lunch Time Day Dream. Jessica Tuterow

The tiny shop blended perfectly into the park next door. With the green vines twisting and turning like they normally do. The green ivy managed to weave its way through the holes in the iron fence and arch way. If you looked closely you could see the sign on the right side of the fence. “Oberon’s tea shop” With little white flowers all around it. From the outside you could see that the courtyard looked more like a garden then an eating area. As she walked in she noticed more colors. There were different shades of all the colors, including: yellow, pink, blue, red, and purple.But to be honest it had to be hanging wisteria that lured her in. The flowers seemed to be draped perfectly. She loved the color purple, it reminded her of her mother. She would always wear purple, whether it was a simple bow in her hair or as extravagant as an evening gown.

The young woman walked through the arch way into a patio with five petite round tables evenly spread out across the courtyard. She sat down at the middle one. The tea cups were already on the table, upside down. They sparkled as the sunlight that shown through the foliage above her danced across the tables. She reached for the small menu that was next to the tea cup. As she skimmed through the items listed, her mind drifted. It had been a while since she had seen her mother. She wondered what she could be doing right now. Cooking, definitely. Her mother loved making elaborate desserts. However she always had a soft spot for flan. Flan. Her eyes stopped on the word, and she was jolted out of her day dream. That’s what she wanted. As if he read her mind, a young waiter walked up to her table. She noticed that when he walked there was a slight jingle, as if he were wearing a tiny bell. He had on a tuxedo with a black bow tie and a white towel on his arm.

“What would you like, Miss?”

“I would love some camomile tea, with lemon, and flan, please.” She smiled to herself. How nice they had flan. She looked around the patio as she waited. There were a few people there but not many, it was probably due to how hidden the tea shop looked from the outside. There was a couple in the corner, sharing a banana split Sunday, with two scoops of chocolate and one scoop of strawberry in the middle with a cherry on top. They seamed to be on a lunch date. In the opposite corner there was a lady wearing jeans, a cozy tee-shirt and a beanie hat. She was sipping tea as she wrote in her journal. It was decorated with sunflowers.She looked to her right where the vines had slithered their way across the store front, with little lavender and white flowers speckled through out the leaves. Through the open doorway you could see the dim lighting setting a soft atmosphere for anyone who wished to dine inside. In the tinted windows she could see the silhouettes of other costumers inside, enjoying their tea and treats.Before she knew it he gracefully walked back, almost as if he was gliding through the air, with her order. He carefully placed the tiny plate on the table with out making it clink, and then placed a tiny dessert fork on a white napkin with dainty blue flowers on it. He flipped the tea cup over, then seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a tea pot with matching blue flowers on it, and poured her a cup of tea. Once filled, he placed a slice of lemon on the rim of the cup.

“Will there be anything else, Miss?”

“No that will be all for now, thank you.”

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Cup of Happiness. Jessica Tuterow

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He tilted his head to the left slightly, and bowed.“Please enjoy, miss. If you need anything else, my name is Puck.” He then quietly turned around and walked back inside.She gracefully picked up her fork and carefully cut into the flan with the side of it. At first it resisted and squashed down, just like jello, then broke through and the fork slid through like butter. Bringing the first bite up with her fork, she leaned forward slightly, she took her first bite. She sat back, savoring the caramel flavor, of the soft creamy custard dessert. She breathed in, and closed her eyes, the smells of the flowers engulfed her taking her back to her daydream. She loved making it with her mother when she was a child. She liked how easy it was to make. Sugar, milk, eggs, and vanilla. She loved how her mother would never measure out the ingredients, just eye balling it. Always turning out different each time, but perfect for what you were craving.“Is it really that good?” A small voice interrupted her daydream.“It has to be... he made it” Another small voice answered, catching her attention.“Then I want to try some!” The first voice got louder with excitement, She opened her eyes.“Shh, she could hear us!” The second voice was quieter, a whisper, she almost didn’t hear it.“Don’t be ridiculous.” The first voice seemed to be getting closer, but it still sounded small “Humans can’t see us or hear us, so don’t worry. It smells sooo good. I wonder how good it tastes.”“It taste delicious!” The young lady said softly, as she took another bite. She looked toward her right, there was no one there. She then glanced down. There stood two tiny people, no bigger than four inches tall. The first one looked dashing in his dark blue dress pants with a matching vest, a light blue short sleeve dress shirt on and black shiny shoes. He was standing there with his nose in the air sniffing. While the other one looked adorable in her frilly pink dress, that poofed at the bottom due to all the layers of petticoats underneath the skirt. She was holding on to the first one’s shoulders and peeking over one of the shoulders up at the young lady.“She is looking at us...” The tiny girl clasp harder onto his shoulders and started to tug the tiny boy back to where they had come from.“She couldn’t be,” The tiny boy said, but this time his voice seamed less carefree, and more cautious. Not wanting to scare them off, the young lady turned her attention back to the dessert in front of her.“See she saw something else” He was back to being curious. “Lets find someplace to sit down” She listened to them walk away toward the shop front. She went to take another bite of her flan, then she stopped, she saw that the tiny couple had found a small table and chairs slightly hidden by a group of flowers, she would have never noticed them if she wasn’t paying attention. She looked around. There where more miniature furniture halfway hidden by the foliage. There were other small people around the patio as well. She noticed a family of four by the archway. The brother was teasing the sister while the dad was giving his son the look of you-know-better and the mother was trying to fix her daughter’s hair bow that the brother had just partially taken out.A flickering light drew her attention away form the small family. However when she looked up she had to shield her eyes, because the sunlight blinded her. Then the light flickered again, and darted away. It was another tiny person.

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Except this person had wings. It had to be a fairy. She watched as the fairy flew over to a group of yellow flowers close to the canopy. Where the wisteria was hanging down. There the fairy met with her friends at another slightly hidden table that was suspended from the ceiling.A clinking noise behind her made her look over her shoulder. Sitting close to the writing girl, was a little garden gnome. No there where more than one, four of five gnomes where sitting together. She watched for a while as they ate their tiny pettifors. Every time one would lean forward their tiny hats would clink. The young lady smiled to herself. She wondered what it must sound like while they were working. Her conclusion was that they would have to make music. The reason for her theory was that each hat had its own tune. If they synchronized their movements they would make a lovely tune.She sat back thinking about all that she had seen. How many more wonderful creatures might be hidden away around her that she had never noticed before. She thought back to her childhood. Could their actually be animals such as unicorns and griffins? Where there people such as brownies, mermaids, or phoenixes?“How is everything tasting, Miss?” A silky playful voice startled her.“Oh! Yes, everything is lovely, thank you.” She closed her eyes as she smiled at him. She then watched him walk to the table in the corner where the lone girl was still writing in her journal. As she looked back at her own table she realized that she was holding up an empty fork, as if she had just taken a bite. Glancing down she noticed that her dessert only had two bites taken out of it. She looked around to see if anyone had seen her acting strange. She could feel her ears getting warmer with embarrassment.The young lady then realized that the small wonders that she had just witnessed had vanished. There were no fairies,the gnomes, or tiny families. Had everything she had just dreamed been a dream. A daydream? It had all seemed so real. The fairies, the tiny people, and the gnomes. The flowers and vines where all there, and very real. However the impossible things where not there. She decided to finish her delicious flan.As she finished her flan and tea she could not help but think about what she had just witnessed. She didn’t think she would ever forget this wonderful day. As she looked up she saw the wisteria hanging above her in all of its purple glory. She would have to come back, and bring her mother with her.“She would enjoy this as much as I have.” The young lady whispered under her breath. She took out her purse and unsnapped it. As she took out the money and counted it out, Puck the waiter came over to check on her.“Would you like any desserts to take home with you?” She handed him the amout she owed plus an added tip for Puck. He smiled at her and put the money into his waist apron.“Not at this time, Thank you.”She scooted her chair back to stand up. As she did so she checked to make sure she had everything she had come in with. Purse, phone, parasol, she was content that she had everything. As she passed though the archway she thought she heard a tiny voice.“Thank you for coming.” she turned her head toward the noise, and saw, for a split second, a flash of light. Similar to a firefly. The young lady smiled to herself. She knew what she had witnessed was real. No one would believe if she told them. However she knew that it would stay with her forever.

23

-----------------------

One week later she decided to surprise her mother. As she got closer to the park that she knew the shop was next to, she slowed down.“Its around here some where.” As she started to pass the park she stopped.“Did I pass it?” she turned around. When she got to the last of the plants she stopped.“It was right here, with ivy and flowers, the wisteria, mother it was the perfect shade of purple.” Her mother rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I believe you.” Her eyes settled on her daughter’s eyes,“You would have loved it.” The young lady told her.“Sometimes things happen that you can not understand.” As she told her daughter her eyes hazed over as if remembering something from her past.

Pink. Jessica Tuterow

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Morning Glory. Emeline Scott

Roses. Rita West

They are peach roses dipped around the edges, like they were burnt by the sun.They smell like a summer’s day, when air is thick and the flowers release all that sweet juice.It’s beautiful to look at and wonder if they were a present from a sweetheart, or from mom with love or just a friend to remind you of how wonderful you are!No matter if they were a gift or they were bought for yourself, how great these beautiful roses can brighten even the saddest day!

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Nameless. David Choate

Wonder LustSeductive waysHow you burn meEvery timeyou drag thy heartThrough thistles And blossomsWonder Lust How you areso carelessOutgoing and freeNever looking backOh wondering lustThe chemistry Desires sparkBetween usSuch beautyEleganceSoft to the touchYour eyesSuch innocenceLips so tastefulWonderingly Lustwandering wildStandstillClasp my hand

Sin. David Choate

Angel wingsdipped in love soaked in tears.

Skin stained with sin.Forgive me my angel

for I keep the devil within.Angel Lips

smudged by a saintkissed by a sinner.Eyes full of pain.

Forgive mefor tattered dreams run in my veins.Angel’s voice who no longer speaks

just echos.Perfume to endure.

I pray for forgivenessfor I am the one who is impure.

Angel whom presence still lingerswith regret.

No more.NO more of me

leaving broken promises at your feet.Angel can you hear me?

I want to right my wrongs.Angel wings dipped in love,

skin stained with sin,who’s lips are still smeared,

voice so ever sweet forgive me...please forgive me…

Please for I…

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The Hanging Tree. Skylar Fox

27

The Encounter. Jake York

I had an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I got ready for my older brother’s wedding. I slid on my black pants, black socks, and black shoes. Then, I picked up my white shirt, wrapped it around my body, and buttoned it up. I tied the red silk tie around my neck and threw on my jacket. I looked at myself in the mirror. I had always hated getting dressed up for special occasions. The shoes were uncomfortable and the shirt was so itchy that it made me made me feel like a cactus was rubbing against my skin. I walked downstairs. I turned the corner into the family room where I saw my mother putting my sister’s long brown hair up in a bun. “Oh my goodness. You are such a handsome boy,” my mother said. “Mom stop it. I don’t look handsome. I hate this shirt. It’s so itchy,” I said. “Well you only have to wear it this once. Then you can get rid of it,” “Mom, I’m going to go ahead and get Jessica. I’ll meet you at the church,” “Okay. Be careful,” I grabbed my car keys and walked outside to my green 2006 Saturn Vue. I started the car, shifted into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. I drove ten blocks over to Jefferson Street and parked outside of my girlfriend’s house. I honked the horn twice and waited for her to come out. I saw the front door open, and there she stood wearing a long purple dress. She had her long blonde hair up in a bun and a hair clip that had a lovely purple flower on it. She opened the passenger side door and sat down next to me. “You look beautiful,” I said “Thank you. What time does your brother want us to be at the church?” she asked. “He wants us there at five, but the wedding doesn’t start until six,” I answered. She looked at the digital clock and saw that it was 3:45. I put the car in drive and pulled back onto the street. I pulled onto Main Street and continued for about thirty miles before I pulled onto Highway 25. I drove down Highway 25 for about forty-five miles. I couldn’t help but notice how empty the countryside seemed. We had only passed by a few cars and there were no buildings or houses. The only thing that surrounded us was trees. I could not figure out why Lee and Shelley had wanted their wedding in a church that was in the middle of nowhere. The church was nearly eighty miles from New Castle. . . . . . I pulled into the church parking lot at 4:55 and my brother was waiting for us at the church doors. He was wearing black shoes, black socks, a white shirt, a black jacket, and a red tie. “It’s about time you got here. Come on. We still have to take some pictures before everybody gets here,” he said. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger door so I could help Jessica out of the car. “That seemed like the longest car ride ever,” she said as she got out of the car. We walked into the church and saw my brother standing next to his bride as a photographer took a picture of them. The photographer then told Shelley to step aside and told me to stand next to my brother. He took a few pictures of us in several different poses. I had always hated getting my picture taken. I thought I looked stupid in all of my pictures. The photographer asked me to step aside and continued taking pictures of Lee and Shelley with members from their families. Jessica and I sat down in the front pew and waited for the rest of my family to arrive. One by one all the members of the two families arrived and took their seats in the pews. My brother took his place in front of the crowd. Everybody could tell that he was nervous. He had a look of pure terror on his face. At exactly six o’ clock, The Bridal March started playing. Everybody stood up and looked at the back of the church. There stood the beautiful bride in her white dress, hair swept up, wearing a long white veil, and holding a bouquet of red flowers. She walked down the aisle to the front of the church. My brother took her hand and the two stood in front of the minister. In fifteen minutes, the two were wed.. . . . .

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After the wedding, all of the family members retreated into the cafeteria for the wedding reception. My brother and his bride had chosen to have a large selection of food for the reception. There were three large tables on the right side of the room. On the first table, there were steaks, chicken, turkey, pork, hamburgers, hotdogs, potato chips, and French fries. On the second table, there was the wedding cake, decorated with icing flowers and figurines of the bride and groom on top. Next to the cake were trays of cupcakes and brownies. On the final table, there was a selec-tions of drinks. The couple had chosen to have both Coke and Pepsi products. Besides the sodas, there were bottles of water, tea, lemonade, and beer. Jessica and I sat down at a table in the corner and kept to ourselves for most of the evening. I chose not to eat anything. I still had the ominous feeling in my stomach and I was afraid that if I ate anything I would get sick. I couldn’t explain it, but I had the feeling that I was in danger.. . . . . After several hours of dancing and partying, the families started to depart. I watched as each person walked out to their cars and left. At about eleven o’ clock, I asked Jessica if she was ready to leave and she said she was. I found my brother and my new sister-in-law and congratulated them for finally getting married. I hugged my broth-er and kissed Shelley on her cheek. Jessica and I said goodbye and walked out to my car. We got into the car and I pulled back out onto Highway 25. The road was pitch black. There were no houses, no streetlights, and no cars. The only lights besides the ones from my car were from the stars in the sky. It was eerie driving down a road that was so empty and dark. I looked over at Jessica in the passenger seat. She was looking up at the sky, admiring the stars. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked. “I wish we could see the stars like this when we are back in the city.” “I know, but there are too many lights in the city,” I replied. I looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:15. Suddenly, Jessica sat forward and looked out the windshield with a puzzled expression. “Look at that star over there,” she said as she pointed to the sky. I leaned forward and looked out the windshield. In the sky, I saw one star that seemed to be brighter than all of the other stars. All of a sudden, the star moved to the right. I instantly thought I was looking at an airplane, but then the star moved back to the left. I knew that airplanes didn’t move like that. The star then stayed motionless in the sky. I had a feeling that something wasn’t right. “Pull over,” Jessica said. “No,” I said. “Oh come on. Pull over. Or are you too chicken to pull over? Bock bock bock,” she mocked. I hesitantly pulled over on the side of the street. Jessica got out and walk to the front of the car, still fixated by the strange light. I got out and walked around to the front of the car and stood next to her. I looked back up at the sky. The strange light was moving again. It would move to the left, then back to the right, then it would move in a circle. All of the sudden, the light was on the other side of the sky. It was moving unnaturally fast. The light then stayed frozen in the sky. Then, the light started to blink. Sometimes it would blink slowly, but then it would speed up and slow back down again. “Maybe it is trying to talk to us,” Jessica suggested. “Like Morse code or something. Don’t you have a flash-light in the trunk?” I walked around to the trunk of the car and got out my flashlight. “Try to talk to it,” Jessica said. I turned on the flashlight and pointed it up to the sky. I placed my hand in front of the light and started to move my hand back and forth. The light in the sky seemed to respond. It started to blink more than it had before. The light started to change colors. It went from white, to blue, to pink, to red, to orange, to green, to yellow, and it kept changing. It wasn’t the same color for more than a half a second. The light than began to shake. It started mov-ing erratically throughout the night sky. I felt like something bad was about to happen. “Get back in the car!” I shouted. Jessica and I got back in the car. I started the car. I looked back into the sky. The light started to get bright-er. All of the sudden, the star seemed to get larger. It appeared to be falling out of the sky. For a second I thought it was going to fall on us, but the light stopped falling and hovered just above the tree line. I realized that we weren’t

29

looking at a star at all. The strange light wasn’t just a light. It was a row of windows. Each window had a bright light glowing out of it. I was staring up at a large circular craft. I knew it wasn’t an airplane. My heart was pounding. I felt that I was in danger. I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal and tried to get away, but the mysterious craft emitted a bright light. The light engulfed the car. I screamed as the car’s engine died.. . . . . I was driving down the street. The road was completely dark. What had happened? Wasn’t there just a huge disc floating above my car? Had I dreamed it? I didn’t understand what was happening. I looked over at Jessica. She sat in the passenger seat and seemed to be confused. I pulled over on the side on the road. “What just happened?” I asked Jessica. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I thought I was dreaming.” “No. You weren’t dreaming.” I noticed that her hair was no longer tied up in a bun and that it was slightly frizzy. I looked at the clock and saw that it was almost three o’clock in the morning. “It’s almost three,” I said. “Wasn’t it just a quarter after eleven a few minutes ago?” “I think so. Where is your tie?” I looked down and saw that Jessica was right. My tie was missing. “I don’t know. I just had it.” I started to rub my head. “What’s on your arm?” Jessica asked. “What are you talking about?” I asked. I looked at my arm. It looked like somehow I had gotten a cut. It was about two inches long. The strange thing was that I wasn’t bleeding. In fact, it looked as if the cut was already stitched up. I had no memory of cutting myself. I rubbed my fingers along the cut and noticed that it felt strange. It felt like there was something under the cut. Something inside my arm. “Maybe we should just go home,” Jessica said. “I agree. We can figure this out later,” I said I pulled back onto the highway. We reached New Castle in ten minutes. It didn’t make any sense. When I pulled over the first time to look at the mysterious light, we had just left the church a few minutes before. We had only traveled about ten miles when I pulled over. We were still about seventy miles away from New Castle, but somehow we got there in ten minutes. It is as if we somehow skipped sixty miles of our trip. Neither Jessica nor I could recall anything from the missing sixty miles. I dropped Jessica off at her house and told her that we would talk tomorrow. I got home, went to my room, and fell asleep in less than thirty seconds.. . . . . I see the craft floating above the car. I look into the windows. I see shadows in the windows. Are they people? No. They can’t be people. What is going on? I see the craft land in front of the car. A door opens and a ramp de-scends from the craft. In the doorway, I see two silhouetted figures. Who are they? What do they want? “NO! NO! NO!” I woke up screaming. I looked around the dark room. Nobody was there. I could have sworn there was somebody else in the room. I felt as if somebody was watching me. I looked over at the clock beside my bed. It was 5:30 in the morning. I turned on my TV. After having a nightmare like that, there was no way that I was going to be able to go back to sleep. I picked up the remote, but I could barely push the buttons. I was shaking so badly. What had happened to me? I had to know. I needed answers.. . . . .

30

At 8:00, I called Jessica and asked if I could come over to her house to talk about the night before. She said yes. I quickly threw on a shirt and a pair of jeans. As I walked out to my car, I noticed that there several shiny, concentric circles on the hood of it. The circles looked like the paint was burned off somehow. I got into my car and drove to Jessica’s house. “I had a nightmare last night,” she said. “Me too. What happened in yours?” I asked. “We were back in the car. I saw shadows in the windows, but they didn’t look human. The craft landed in front of the car, a ramp opened and there were two of these shadows standing there.” “That is the exact same thing that happened in my dream. I want to know what happened last night. I need to know what happened. We only drove for about ten miles, and somehow we completely skipped over sixty miles on our way back home. And when we first saw that thing it was about 11:15, but just a few minutes later it was almost three. What happened to us during those missing hours?” “Maybe I can call my Aunt Janet. She is a psychologist that believes in hypnotism. Maybe she could hypno-tize us. Do you think that could work?” she asked. “It’s worth a shot,” I answered.. . . . .

Hub Cap. Larry Gibson

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Janet Weiss arrived at Jessica’s house at about noon. She stood at about 4 feet six inches tall, had blonde hair, round eyes, and was as thin as a twig. “Hello Jake. My name is Janet Weiss. My niece has told me all about your situation and I plan to help you get to the bottom of things,” she said. “And you think that hypnotizing us will reveal what happened?” I asked. “I believe so.” “What do you need me to do?” “I need you to lie down on the couch.” I did as I was told and she placed a pillow under my head. “Now I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice. Nothing else exists except my voice. As I am talking, you are feeling yourself fall deeper and deeper into a peaceful sleep. Now I am going to count down from three and when I hit one, you will be completely asleep. Ready? Three. Two. One.”. . . . . I see the craft land in front of my car. I see the door open and the ramp come down. I see the two beings. They walk down the ramp and approach the car. One comes to my door. The other one goes to Jessica’s door. They are tiny creatures, three feet high. They have gray skin, huge black eyes, huge bulbous heads, thin bodies, thin arms and legs, and long spindly fingers. They aren’t wearing any clothing. I am terrified as the creature opens my door. I look into the black eyes. They are the blackest eyes I have ever seen. I start to scream, but I hear a voice in my head say “Don’t scream. We don’t want to hurt you.” Did I just hear that? Was that the creature? Was it communicating telepathically? “Come with us,” I hear inside my head. All of the sudden, I feel completely safe. I don’t scream. I don’t run. I completely trust the being. What are they doing to me? I get out of the car and follow the creature onto the craft. Jessica does the same. As we enter the craft, I notice that everything is white and appears to be glowing. Everything I see is rounded. There are no sharp edges on anything. We continue walking to the end of a long hallway. The being that came to get me turns left. I follow it, but Jessica’s being turns right. We are now separated. The being and I walk into a large, empty room. The only thing in it is a table that is floating two feet off of the ground. “Lie down on the table,” I hear inside my head. I don’t question the being. I do as I am told. Three more beings enter the room. One uses what appears to be a pair scissors to cut some of my hair off. Another being uses some kind of laser to cut my fingernails. It catches the trimmings in a test tube of some kind. “What are you doing?” I ask the creatures. “We are studying you. We want to know how the human body compares to that of our own,” I hear inside my head. I see one creature pull out a huge needle. I start to panic. The creature lifts my shirt and shoves the needle into my navel. The pain is excruciating. I start to scream, but the creature looks me in the eyes, and all the pain goes away. Another being takes a knife and uses it to cut my arm open. I see the creature pull out what appears to be a small, silver stone. He place the object into my arm. “What is that thing?” I ask. “It is a tracking device, so we will always know where you are if we ever need to find you,” I hear. The crea-ture pulls out a laser and uses it to repair the cut on my arm. I feel no pain at all. “Who are you?” I ask the creatures. “You may call us The Greys,” I hear inside my head. “We are an alien species from the star system Sirius. We have been on Earth for thousands of years, helping humanity advance. But now, our species is in mortal danger, and it is time for humanity to help us. By studying the human species, we may save our own. We mean humanity no harm.” The creature pulls out a test tube that contained a glowing, green liquid. “What is that?” I ask. “It is a medicine that will make you forget the next few minutes. You won’t remember much of this encoun-ter at first, but there are ways in which to retrieve your memories. The next few minutes, you will never remember. There are no ways to remember what is going to happen in the next few minutes. It is of grave importance that you do not remember what is about to happen to you,” I hear inside my head.

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The creature pours the liquid into my mouth and I swallow. The next thing I know, Jessica and I are back in the car driving down the street. I hear Janet’s voice again. “Jake, I am going to count to five,” she said. “When I get to five, you will be completely awake. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”. . . . . I opened my eyes and seen Janet and Jessica sitting in chairs. They were staring at me with large eyes. “What happened?” I asked. “You mean you don’t remember?” asked Jessica “No.” I looked at Janet. She reached her hand behind her back and pulled out a tape recorder that she had hidden. She hit play. I listened in horror as I heard my voice recall the events. After the recording was over, I sat dumbfounded. It seemed like hypnotizing me gave me more ques-tions than answers. “Jessica, switch places with Jake,” said Janet. “It is your turn.” “No,” Jessica replied. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m not going to do this. I heard what they did to you. I don’t want to hear what they did to me.” “Jessica, don’t you understand? This might give us the answers we are looking for.” “NO! I’m not doing it. You know what? I think you are the person who did this to me! This is all your fault!” “What are you talking about?”I tried to grab her shoulders, but she backed away. What was wrong with her? I didn’t understand. Why was she talking out of her mind? “Don’t touch me!” she yelled.She backed away from me. She stared at me with eyes filled with hatred. All of the sudden, she turned around and ran out the front door. I tried to catch her, but she was too fast. I watched desperately as she ran down the street.. . . . . Later that day, Jessica text messaged me, officially breaking up with me. She told me that she thought I was the one that was responsible for the incident. Why didn’t she understand? She was fine earlier in the day. What had happened that had made her so irate? Why had she hated me so much?. . . . . To this day, I continue to dream about the incident. Every time I close my eyes, I see the huge, black eyes of the mysterious beings. I never saw Jessica again, but a few months later, I saw on the news where she had mysteriously disappeared. Her parents said that she was sleeping in her bed one night, but the next morning, she was gone. She had completely vanished. I couldn’t help but wonder if her disappearance was somehow connected to the creatures that we saw. I still find myself dreaming about the beings. I see them as vividly as I had when I was hypnotized. I contin-ue to ask questions. Who were the mysterious beings? Why did they choose me and Jessica? Will they return? Only time will tell. Every time I look up at the night sky, up at the stars, I can’t help but wonder if they are watching me. Sometimes, I see stars move across the sky, blink a multitude of different colors, before disappearing completely. I know in my heart that they are still there, hovering in the sky, watching me. Just waiting for the right moment to return.

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Rose. Brody Kanouse

My Ring. Rita West The sparkle is blinding to my eye,Shining glitter against my brown skin,The perfect fit to my aging hands.A symbol of timeless love,Constant like oceans we have seen.Never ending, always enduring.I lost this ring, it was special and beautiful.I will remember forever what my better half did!

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The Day the World Was (Almost) Saved. Zach Latham

Snap! Startled, Greg’s eyes shoot open. Ever since that fateful night four months ago, he’s learned how to be a light sleeper. He’s always seemed to have been a light sleeper, now more than ever. It could be the difference between life and death. He slowly rises and tries to locate whatever made the twig snap. His eyes scanning from the window he kept open just a bit like a lion hiding in the tall grass of the Serengeti stalking its prey. He grabs his ball-peen hammer from under his makeshift pillow of random cotton and whatever cloth he was able to find. After a minute of scanning the trees and brush, he has spotted the zombie. “Just a roamer from the city,” he thinks. He glances over to his trusty dog, Ace, who was up quicker than he was. He motions for Ace to lay down, Ace follows suit. He quickly looks to his son Johnny who’s still fast asleep. He hasn’t gotten the whole “being a light sleeper” thing down yet. Greg focuses back on the zombie out in front of their hunting cabin. He gently opens the door and closes it behind him. He walks softly to the noise, being diligent as to not get ambushed by more zombies that he can’t see. He quickly runs up to the zombie just as it turns to see him. With one swing of his hammer and one smack of the zombies head, the zombie goes down like a sack of bricks. He scans the area for more but doesn’t see or hear anything. He walks back to the cabin and tries to quietly enter without waking Johnny.“Where was this one from?” Johnny asks as his father lays in the cot across the one room cabin.“I’m going to assume from the city but you know what assuming does.” he replies.“Sorry I wasn’t up to help you, I’m trying to get better at being a light sleeper.” said Johnny.“Ehh, it was only one this time, but I can see that you’re getting better. With a little more time, you should get the hang of it. Shoot, you might even get up before I even open my eyes.” Greg said. His name is Greg Smithers, 53. Once a mildly successful businessman in his small rural town of Middletown, Maryland. He was well respected in the community, often donating to the local school and helping his fellow citizens anyway he could. He lived alone in a small house on the outskirts of town. He lived alone with his 17 year old son Johnny and his dog Ace. His now ex-wife skipped town to Florida with a guy she dated years before they had married about 27 years ago. She’d lived there for a year before telling anyone. Johnny was around 12 at the time. Years had pasted and open wounds slowly turned to scabs. It’s now August. Everything ended April 8th and it’s only gotten worse. You see, the government had secretly been working on a chemical that could possibly bring the recently dead back to life. Everything seemed to be going well at the time. They mainly wanted to create this so they could bring back soldiers back after being killed out in the field. They’d run these tests on them to see where they needed to improve and to see what worked. Will the couple of small mishaps here and there, everything seemed to be going smoothly. One night, undenounced to anyone else, a doctor who couldn’t wait to test a new formula out on a subject, things went horrible. What once was a man’s man, fighting for his country, was now just a shell of a human trying to gnaw off any limb it could from who was holding him down. He bit a thumb of one man who let go, screaming in pain. The patient the flung his body on the other man, too heavy for the man to fight off. On the night where security was down and no one thought a disaster could happen, it did. Patient Zero escaped and started to wreak havoc in a small town nearby. Some victims with horrible bites on various limbs were rushed into the hospitals in the city. All died from an extremely hot body temperature. The issue here was that they didn’t stay dead for long. They came back, catching anyone carting their bodies off, off-guard and biting them. Then this whole cycle repeated. Except some of the nurses and doctors were out in the city and at their homes when they woke up dead, thus getting others infected and making this whole thing worse. Once Greg heard about it, he took Johnny and Ace out to their hunting cabin. He figured that staying away from towns and big cities would make all the difference in their survival. He had always hated the city any way, this was just all the more reason for him not going.

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The next morning, the three boys went out to go hunting. While they were walking, they heard a rustling in the bushes. They stop dead in their tracks. Greg’s arm instinctively went out across Johnny’s chest, as to tell him to stop moving. He looked back when he felt nothing and Johnny had stopped before he had. They raise their guns and point them in the direction of the noise, Ace to their side. Just before they start to finish off what they thought was another zombie, out stumbles a young woman. Johnny immediately rushes over to her. It takes her a second to realize that there are actually other humans alive. They help her back to their cabin. Once she has time to breath, she tells them everything.“My name is Alice. I’m from southern Texas. I’m making my way to Washington, D.C. You see, I’ve been bitten,” she says as she calmly lowers the collar to show a nasty bite mark. “I was bitten when this whole thing got to Texas, I was a college student going to Texas A&M for a business degree. My family was out of town and I had no idea what to done once this happened. I panicked and ran to the store to try and get food. Those…things were already getting people. This one got me when I wasn’t looking. I hurried home and looked at the bite in the mirror. I thought that I was done for, I even thought about just killing myself then and there. I heard how the fever takes over and that’s what kills you then you come back as one of them. I didn’t want to suffer but something inside me told me to keep going. I don’t know if there was something in my blood that made me immune to the virus but I haven’t turned. I need to get to DC and try to see if any shred of the government is left. I may have the cure. I may be able to stop this nightmare. Will you help me?” she asks.“Of course.” said Greg. “If we can get this stopped and everything relatively back to normal, I’ll do just about anything. We’re about 12 miles east of DC, that’s about 4 hours of solid walking. If we leave now, we could be able to make it before sundown.”Once in the woods, this gave them time to get more acquainted. About 2 ½ into their trek, they decided to rest for a second. This is where choices can have a huge impact these days with life or death. They stop and take a seat on some rocks. Greg had some jerky that he made in the cabin and took that out and gave everybody a couple pieces. As he ate his, he broke some off for Ace and gave it to him. They stopped for about 15 minutes and decide to head out again. They see a lot of sunlight coming through the shrubs and trees a head of them. They start to pick up their pace, thinking they were getting close to DC. Greg stopped. He heard something. Ace started barking. Johnny and Alice went ahead, to excited to hear anything else.“STOP!” Greg yells out but it’s too late. Johnny and Alice walk right out into a herd of zombies who were stumbling around on the highway. Ace takes off like a bullet out of a gun. Greg hurries behind him.The would-be heroes fought diligently. Even if zombies are slow, brain dead creatures who try to eat everything they see, numbers do add up. It proved to be too for them. Greg was the first to get taken. Ace attacked some zombies who had Greg until more ganged up on Ace. Johnny died trying to protect Alice and Alice had been surrounded. Not all stories end in happiness and peace, this is one of those “not all” stories. It is crazy how three people and a dog tried to save the world but their lives ended and no one will ever know the bravery they had and the selflessness they carried.

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The Kitchen. Rita West

The colors in the umbrella, remind me of my childhood kitchen. The orange, yellow and green take me back to the 1970’s, when everyone had the “Brady Bunch” kitchen, except no one had an Alice. Mommy would be at work, pulling a double shift and it was up to daddy for dinner, homework and getting my sisters and me through the evening. I can remember watching daddy fix dinner while we girls swirled around in the egg-shaped chairs, these where burnt red plastic covered with yellow cushions. I loved that kitchen and I especially loved our refrigerator, it was a turquoise blue and it was the most beautiful one I had ever seen. It was brand new, delivered by the men and smelled like heavy plastic! My family wasn’t rich but once a year my daddy would pay for my mommy to redecorate a room and this year she choose the kitchen. These colors are still special to me, whenever I see them just randomly somewhere I always smile and go back to that special time!

Fall Moon. Larry Gibson

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Rena. Skylar Fox

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Time. Meghan Kammer

Four thirty in the morning and she knew it was time to go. She had been having “symptoms” for the past two days, but the doctors kept sending her home…at 35

weeks pregnant, she wasn’t progressing fast enough for the doctors to actually admit her into the hospital. Mary had slept maybe five hours in the last three days, and was hoping tonight was going to be different. Unfortunate for her, she woke up at 3:30am

and was having contractions. Again. Only this time they were perfectly timed apart…happening every three to four minutes. She laid there and waited for them to go away, but it just wasn’t happening. After about an hour, she realized that she had to pee…and thought maybe that was why she was hurting so bad. She rolled out of bed and suddenly felt something run down her leg. Instinctively, she touched her leg and looked at her hand to see what it was…blood. Doing her best to keep her com-posure and not freak out, she grabbed her phone and walked to the bathroom. With her hands shaking, she unlocked her phone and called her doctor. Rather than telling

him the symptoms she was experiencing and asking for his advice, she simply told him she was heading to the hospital and left it at that. Mary cleaned herself up,

gathered her laptop, and rushed out the door. The drive to the hospital was interest-ing, to say the least. She was trying to not only drive, but was attempting call her

family to let them know she was heading to the hospital and also trying to remember to breathe through the contractions that were getting more and more intense. She

parked her SUV, slid out of the seat, and wobbled inside. The guy that was sitting at the front desk just looked at her. Without stopping, Mary pointed ahead and said “I’m going upstairs!” This was not like Mary at all…she was normally very passive and did everything by the ‘rules’. Riding in the elevator, she thought to herself and

decided that she needed to be more aggressive…it felt good to take control of her life! The elevator doors opened and another contraction hit. Mary’s steps slowed as she

attempted to walk through the pain. She pushed the button to open the doors to the labor and delivery wing and walked in. A nurse was there waiting on her. One of the nurses that she had seen the night before asked her how she was doing, to which Mary responded “just peachy”. After having had been there the last two days, she knew the

drill. Before being taken to a room, she was weighed…157 pounds…she was then shown to her room. Mary changed into a gown and was hooked up to the monitors. One of them tracked her contractions, while the other tracked the baby’s heartbeat. The nurse did not have a problem finding the heartbeat and the baby sounded good. His heart rate was about 150. Next was the fun part…the nurse had to get in Mary’s business and check to see how much she was dilated and thinned. The nurse couldn’t decide if she wanted to say that Mary was dilated to 3.5 or 4 centimeters, so she had

another nurse come in and check Mary for a “second opinion”. After talking amongst themselves, the nurses decided Mary was 3.5 centimeters and about 60% thinned. They called the doctor to let him know, and as he had said the last two nights, he simply told them to wait for an hour and check her again for any progress. This

process continued until about7:30am, at which point the doctor tried sending Mary home. Again. Mary had since progressed to 4.5 centimeters and was 85% thinned,

but that wasn’t enough for the doctor to want to do anything. For the second time in

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less than a day, Mary stood up for herself. She told the nurse that she was not leaving…if she were to go home again she would not be coming back to the hospital, and would more than likely end up having her son at home in her bathtub. The nurse, whose name was Lana, told her that was a choice that was entirely up to Mary and she would continue to watch the monitors if Mary decided to stay. About a half hour passed and Lana returned to the room. Mary’s contractions had been occurring more frequently, which was starting to affect the baby’s heartrate. Lana checked Mary again and was surprised to find that she was now at 5 centimeters. She called the doctor

once again to let him know and he said it was time to admit her. Paperwork was filled out, forms were signed, and belongings were gathered. Lana escort-ed Mary to the room where she would be giving birth to her baby boy. When she got to the room, contractions were hitting hard and she was beginning to feel pressure (similar to that of a bowel movement). She let the nurse know and in turn was checked again…she was already at 8 centimeters. At this

point, Lana began to panic because Mary was not yet hooked up to an IV and she was progressing rapidly. Through all of the chaos going on around her, Mary couldn’t help but laugh to herself…if she would have left the hospital

like the doctor had originally instructed, she would have barely made it to the parking lot before feeling the urge to push. And just like that, Mary snapped

back to reality. Her contractions were coming pretty much right after one another, the lady from “the lab” was there to drawl her blood, and her nurse

was attempting to get an IV started to get Mary hydrated and get some antibiotics in her. While the lady from the lab was drawling blood, Lana

stuck Mary the first time in her right hand…immediately pushing a syringe full of antibiotics into Mary and ignoring the fact that Mary’s hand was

bubbling up. Lana, being in such a hurry, had hit a valve and pretty much caused her vein to rupture. After realizing what had happened, Lana simply said “well that will be a nice bruise”. Mary was not amused. Lana then tried

in Mary’s right arm (what Mary called her ‘elbow pit’). She could not find the vein. Taking the needle out of Mary’s arm, Lana apologized and said that she was going to try one more time. Not having much of a choice, Mary agreed and was poked again…this time in her left hand. For the third time, Lana had failed…she went through the vein this time. Finally giving up, Lana called for another nurse to come in and try to “find a vein that will work”.

Within about 30 seconds, the other nurse was in the room and decided that she wanted to try Mary’s right arm again, about an inch away from where

Lana had tried. Mary felt the stick and the nurse was done…she was finally hooked up to an IV. Mary was slightly confused as to why Lana was having

such a hard time, unless she was just in too much of a hurry or was inexperi-enced. In the past, Mary had given blood numerous times and had been

hooked up to IV’s. No one had ever had a problem finding a vein. The next person to walk into the room was the doctor. He greeted Mary and said “I’m

going to break your water now”. Mary nodded (she was in the middle of having another contraction) and thought ‘here we go!’ It was now 9:47am

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and Mary finally felt like the doctor was doing his job rather than just trying to send her home. Once her water had been broken, contractions intensified almost imme-diately. With the contractions came the urge to push. The first time Mary felt the

sensation, she fought it…she wasn’t ready! Mary’s legs were being “supported” by a nurse and her significant other, who had finally shown up. She was completely

exposed, which would normally make her feel extremely uncomfortable, but at this exact point in time she couldn’t care less. The doctor, now sitting at the foot of her hospital bed with a bright overhead light shining on Mary’s nether regions, told her to listen to her body and push when she felt the need to. Another contraction was

starting. Mary closed her eyes and silently prayed for the pain to go away. Much to her despair, the pain did not go away, it progressively got worse actually. And then it

happened. She needed to push…so much that she almost wanted to, until she actually started. Between the pressure, burning sensation, and pain, Mary began

questioning her decision to refuse all medicine. She then remembered the countless hours of research she had done before making her decision and reminded herself that

it’s what was best for not only herself, but her child as well. As she pushed, her doctor counted to ten…entirely too slow for Mary’s liking! She pushed twice during the first contraction, feeling like she got absolutely nowhere. Then came the second

contraction, and it was stronger than the last one. Mary inhaled deeply and began to push (holding her breath). Everyone was cheering her on, so to speak, and telling her what a good job she was doing. In her mind, Mary was yelling at them to shut up. She didn’t want to hear about how well she was doing…she wanted the pain to

stop and to be able to hold her son. Just as the doctor got to ten, Mary let her breath out, sucked in some more air, and started to push again. The pain was almost

unbearable this time, causing Mary to yell at the top of her lungs. Once she stopped yelling her doctor said “now don’t yell, and use that energy to push!” Mary felt like kicking him in the face…what the hell did he know about childbirth, he’s a guy! As

reluctant as she was to take a man’s advice about birthing techniques, she silenced herself through the next push. That contraction was through, finally. Mary grabbed her styrofoam cup and took a drink of water. Just as she started to swallow, she felt the start of another contraction. “Jesus, can’t I get a little break?!” she thought to

herself. Mary put the cup down and got in “position” again. This was going to be the one, she could feel it. She began pushing and could not keep herself quiet any

longer. “FUUUUUUUUUCK” she cried out. Mary immediately apologized to the nurses and doctor. They did not really seem to mind and just told her to push again.

Eyes closed, Mary inhaled deeply and pushed as hard as she possibly could. “I can see the head”, said the doctor. “He’s got hair!” exclaimed Lana. The doctor then told

Mary to ease up and not push so hard. She did her best to comply, but it was still too hard. She had caused herself to tear and also bruised the baby’s head due to going through the birth canal too fast. “You’re almost done” the doctor almost

shouted, “One more good push!” Mary was in somewhat of a trance. She couldn’t believe the amount of pain she was enduring and it just kept getting worse. “I’m

never having sex again!” she thought to herself. The urge to push reared its ugly head once again and that’s exactly what Mary did. She grabbed hold of her legs and gave it everything she had left. Elias Michael was born at 10:08am, and he came into this world screaming. Although he was 5 weeks early, he still weighed 6 pounds and half

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an ounce and was 18.5 inches long. As they laid her son on her chest, Mary couldn’t help but tear up. He was her saving grace…her blessing in disguise…everything she

needed in her upside down world to make it right side up again. As the doctor finished the process of delivery and stitched Mary up, she just stared at her boy. She couldn’t believe that she had made something so perfect! At that exact moment in time, Mary knew nothing would ever compare to her little boy. Through all the turmoil in her life, came something spectacular. Mary had found the peace she

thought she would never get back.

Untitled. Jake York

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Please Let Me Go. Skylar Fox

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Kit’s Story. Jessica Tuterow

Chapter 1

‘With the room dimly lit it was hard to see, but the light hum of voices indicated that there were others in the room with her. Nearby stood a boy with wavy dark brown hair, he looked to be 18 years old. As the room lightened up more people came into view. Most of the people were in small clusters, joking around, or talking seriously. There were a few people scattered throughout the room working at desks. Two girls walked up on either side of the boy. One girl was dressed in black, the other in an array of colors. The three of them were talking among themselves. They walked toward her. The boy put his hand out as if to touch her. She jerked upward.’ She sat up; it was her room, in bed. The curtains were still closed, meaning it was still night time.‘I wonder if mommy’s awake.’ She thought as her long red hair swaying around her face, making it difficult to see. She crawled out of bed, just to hop right back into it.“It’s cold!” She crawled back to the edge of her bed, and stuck her head out to see if she could find what she was looking for.“Where are my slipperies?” she spotted them, and swung her feet forward. This time aiming for the slippers, she hopped off her bed.“Oh! Do you want to see mommy too?” she asked the oversized pink bunny rabbit, as she pulled it off of her bed. She then purposefully walked to her door and opened it, then sneaked out. Making sure she made little to no noise, she headed down the hall and to the left. Slowing down as she neared the door way of her mother’s room, she heard two voices. One of them belonged to her mother and the other to the house maid, Chelsey but everyone called her Chels. She peeked around the corner of the door frame. Chels was fluffing pillows and putting them behind her mother. Her mother was frail from being sick for so many years, but that didn’t stop her from being sweet and kind. With her long auburn hair flowing down around her she looked like a beautiful princess. The house maid on the other hand was a rather well plump woman with brown hair to her shoulders (that she usually pulled back in a bun).“Is that better, Alexia?” Chels had just added another pillow.“Yes, thank you Chels; that should do. I’m so sorry to have bothered you so early, I know you have other work you sh-”“None of that nonsense. My first priority is you,” Chels interrupted her as she fixed the blankets. Alexia smiled at Chels then looked at the door.“Candella, is that you my dear?” Candella jumped, her mother was looking straight at her. Chels looked up from what she was doing and smiled, shook her head then moved on to open the curtains.“Mommy!” Candella ran into the room, climbed up the foot of the bed and snuggled up against her mother.“Look Mommy! Floppsee wanted to see you too.” Candella held up the bunny rabbit to show her mother. “See Floppsee, Mommy’s just fine, aren’t you Mommy?”“She’d be better if you weren’t hanging all over her, making it hard for her to breath”“Chels, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me so much. Anyway its Candella’s fifth birthday. We should be celebrating.” Alexia gleamed down at her daughter.“Mommy! You remembered!” Candella’s face beamed with joy.“Of course I remembered how could I forget my only daughter’s birthday? Now,” Alexia resituated herself so that she was more comfortable, and so she could focus on her daughter, “What brings you here, so early in the morning?”“Oh! I had the most wonderful-ist dream, although I can’t remember why it was, but it was! There were lots of people and desks, and there were these two girls and a boy talking to me,” Candella’s face changed from the happy smile she had, to a confused look, “but now it doesn’t sound very good, but you have to believe me it was,” Now her face was filled with pleading.“Don’t worry, my child, I bet it was the best dream ever.” Alexia leaned over and poked her daughter’s nose.“Silly Mommy, it wasn’t the best-ist it was the most wonderful-ist!” Candella said, in her most serious of faces. Her

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mother burst out with laughter. Then as quickly as she had started laughing, her laughter changed to coughing.“Alexia, are you alright?” Chels looked at Alexia’s face, then touched Candella’s head. “Candella, go get your father.” By this time Alexia’s face was as red as a tomato.“Mommy?” exclaimed Candella“Go! Quickly!” This time Chels’s voice was more commanding. Candella got off the bed as Chels started moving the blankets out of the way so that Alexia could sit on the side of the bed, and lean over. As Candella ran out of the room she glanced back to look at her mother, and saw blood on her hand and mouth.“DADDY, DADDY, MOMMY’S COUGHING, DAHHAHDDHYYY!” Candella’s father came running out of his study, slightly down the hall of Alexia’s room.Candella, go get your brothers to help you go get the Doctor.” He called back to her as he ran into Alexia’s room. Candella ran back towards her room, but instead of going into her room she went a few doors down and ran in.“Christopher, Christopher, wake up! Mommy’s coughing!” Candella sank to the floor and started crying into her hands. Christopher jumped out of bed and came to hug her.“I’m sure mother will be just fine, let’s go get Timmy and Tommy, okay?”‘Sniff’ “’Kay” ‘sniff’ She whipped her tears away as she stood up. “Daddy said we have to go get the doctor.”“Alright then, but first let’s get the twins up first, they can help us,” Christopher stood up. “You should probably leave Floppsee here so you don’t accidentally leave her somewhere you might forget her.” He held out his hand to take her bunny rabbit.“Mhh-mmh” Candella hugged her bunny tighter “No, Floppsee wants to help Mommy to.”“Fine then, but make sure she doesn’t get in the way.” Christopher walked to the wall that separated his room and the twin’s room. He knocked three times then opened a secret door.“After you, Candie” They all called her Candie except for their mother and sometimes their father. It kind of fit better, especially when she was hyper, and she was hyper a lot. Candella walked through the wall into the twin’s room, which unlike Christopher’s room, was a mess.“Timothy, Thomas, get up, mother needs our help.” Christopher walked over to Thomas’s bed and shook him out of his sleep. “Thomas mother’s sick, get up and help.” Then Christopher walked over to Timothy’s bed and tried to wake him. “Come on Timmy, we don’t have all day.” When Timothy still didn’t budge Christopher leaned over him and grabbed a hold of the mattress and pulled, making the mattress flip all of its contents on to the floor.“Aarrg. Chris, what did you do that for? It isn’t even a school day,” forcing the mattress back to where it belonged, Timothy got a look at everyone’s faces. “Mom’s sick again isn’t she? And on Candie’s birthday to boot.” Timothy took a hold of Candella’s hand, “Come on Candie I’ll help you.” He smiled down at her, and then looked at Christopher and Thomas, “Meet you back in Mom’s room?” They nodded and headed out of the room, and down the hall towards their mother’s room. Timothy and Candella turned right, and went down the stairs, out the door, across the yard, and to the left towards a little cottage where the doctor lived. Their father had built the cottage so that the doctor could live close by for their mother’s sake. Timothy knocked on the door repeatedly, so that the doctor knew that it was an emergency. A couple of minutes passed with loud noises, indicating he had run into something, before the doctor opened the door. Dressed in pajamas and a bath robe that looked thrown on, the doctor asked breathlessly“What’s the matter?” he looked at Timothy.“Actually, Candie here knows better than I do.” He answered. The doctor looked down at Candella confused and dazed. When she didn’t say anything he impatiently added “Well out with it then” as he fixed his robe.“She was laughing, then suddenly started coughing,” Candella looked scared, but added “When I left, Mommy had blood on her hands, from coughing, I think” when she was done she was almost whispering. The look on the doctor’s face turned from concerned to exasperated, when the doctor realized that Candella was finished speaking, he ran off into the house. Candella looked up to her older brother.

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“Is Mommy going to die?” She had the saddest face on that you could imagine.“I hope not, Candie,” he took in his arms and hugged her very tightly. “I really hope not. Now,” setting her down and taking her hand once more “let’s go see if we can help in any way.” This time he led her to their mother’s bed room, where everyone was bustling around. Timothy let go of Candella’s hand and jumped into helping out with everyone else, leaving Candella standing at the door.“‘scuse me dear,” it was Chels coming in with more clean towels, bedding and clothes. She pushed Candella to the side and walked into the room.“Sorry honey, I need in that drawer behind you”“Hey! Can you hand me one of those and two in the next drawer down?”“Yah, hold on,”*bump*“Sorry didn’t see you there”“Oof,” “Ouch”“Pardon me”“’scuse me”“Sorry”“Comin’ through”With everyone moving around in the not so big room, it was hard to stay out of the way.“Chough… Chough… Chough…”“Alexia!”“Chough… Chough… Chough…”In a small voice that nobody heard Candella asked “Can I help?” She waited a few minutes before she tried again. “May I -”*bump*“OUCH!”“Could you move!?!” By than Candella had tears in her eyes, partly because her mother was sick, partly because she couldn’t help and was forgotten about, and partly because her foot hurt. Candella hugged her bunny rabbit tightly and ran out of the back door. She didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she wanted to be away from it all. She ran for what seemed (to a five year old) hours. When she finally looked up she was nearing a small pond. She looked around as she slowed down for somewhere to sit down. Noticing a small boulder next to the pond she veered towards the right. Once she reached it she climbed up, and sat with her knees in her chest, hugging her bunny rabbit. She had cried herself to a near sleep when something startled her.“What’s wrong?” Nearly jumping out of her skin, Candella looked up with a slight pout in her big, swollen, emerald eyes. She saw a dark haired boy standing to the right of her holding a fishing pole and a book. She didn’t say anything.“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you would have heard me coming,” He looked taken a back, then set down his fishing pole and stuck out his hand. “I’m Lee by the way. What’s your name?” Candella stared at him for some time before answering“My name is Candella, but everyone calls me Candie for short.” She leaned over and lightly grabbed his hand in a ladylike manner.

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Chibi Bunny Girl. Jessica Tuterow

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* * * * *They agreed to meet at the pond a couple times a week, around lunch time. They would tell each other about their lives and any problems either of them might have. Although Candella’s situation seemed a lot worse, she had a feeling he wasn’t telling her everything. Most of their meetings started with Candella crying because her mother was getting worse, but Lee made sure that Candella left happy, and able to deal with the sadness at home. Lee had taught her how to fish during the month that they had been meeting. He had also read while she collected flowers and other things. When she got board of that, she would usually coax him in to playing tag or some other game with her, or she would read over his shoulder.“Hey Lee, if it hurts him to be there why doesn’t he just leave?” Candella once again interrupted Lee from reading one of his books. She was leaning over his shoulder reading the page he was on.“Because he has some one he wants to protect and if he leaves they will get hurt.” Candella furrowed her brow.“Then why doesn’t he just save her?”“Because he’s under cover, he can’t get caught or they’ll both die.”“Why?” Candella leaned in closer to turn the next page to find out more from the book. Her shoulder wedged into his upper arm.“Because he- OUCH!” Candella jumped and leaned away, as Lee grabbed his arm.“I’m sorry, what happened?” before Lee could stop her, she scrunched up his short sleeve, uncovering a swollen burse. “What did you do?” Lee shook her off of his arm and smoothed out his sleeve, to hide the burse.“When I tried to pull this book off of its shelf, a couple more came with it, so I ducked and they hit my arm instead of my face, thankfully” Candella winced at the thought of pain.“That must have hurt!”“Yah well,” he shut the book and looked up at her. “Hey Candella sense you’re so interested in this book why don’t you start it from the beginning, and if there are any difficult words I’ll help you.” Candella’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.“Really!?!” she grabbed the book from him.“Sure I’ve already read it a couple times myself. It’s my favorite book, so take care of it.” * * * * *A week or so went by of their usual meetings at the pond. Candella was reading the book Lee had given her, and Lee was pulling a fish off of his fishing pole when they heard someone calling. “Lee! Where are you?” “Over here Papa! I’m fishing!” Lee threw the fish back. His father came over to the pond and stood there for a second to catch his breath. “Oh! Who’s your little friend?” “This is Candie” Candella looked up from her book. “Nice to meet you, miss Candie.” Candella nodded her head at him. “Well I’m sorry to break up your little date, but Lee it’s time to go,” “Oh! Then…” Lee picked up his fishing pole and handed it to his father, then turned to Candella, “Could you keep that safe after you finish it, till we meet next?” “Sure” Lee hugged her and left with his father “Bye, Candie!” “Bye, bye Lee. Bye, bye Lee’s papa!” Candella waved at them until she could not see them anymore. Then she picked up her bunny rabbit and tucked the book under her arm and ran home. Unfortunately there was bad news awaiting her at home. Her mother had finally died from her cancer.

48

Funeral

The day started out beautifully. The leaves were turning ever so slightly amber. The birds singing their last song for the summer, and the animals were getting ready for winter. There was hardly any wind to speak of, as everyone walked along the cobble stone path through the trees.Alexia had picked out this spot right after they had told her the news. She wanted to be in a beautifully peaceful place, at least she control that much of her life. “If you can call it that!” She had laughed when she told her husband. “I want you to be able to come visit me in a beautiful place.” The cobble stone path led to a small circle of grass. Surrounded by cherry blossom trees with her favorite pansy flowers around the trunks, there was barely enough room for everyone to squeeze in to the small meadow.The whole event seamed a blur to Candella as people walked up and set flowers on the coffin. A couple of people got up and talked about how wonderful her mother was, and after wards people ether hugged Candella, kissed her, or rubbed her head.As they lowered the coffin the weather started to change. It started slowly, the mist of rain was cold on her face, turning it numb. Candella was standing in front of her father with her three older brothers standing around her, as if protecting her. A simple black dress, black stalking, and the classic black Mary Jane shoes, all this with her flaming red hair. She didn’t look good in black, it made her look extremely skinny, almost sickly. By the time the whole thing was over there were umbrellas everywhere. The rain was almost a down pour when they got to the car. When they were finally home it felt empty. There weren’t any nurses rushing medical supplies, or other random people trying to keep the house in order. She wandered around the house trying to figure out what she should do. Without realizing it she had ended up in her mom’s room. The room was a mess from when the nurses were hurrying around to help the doctors. Candella crawled into the bed and curled up on the pillows. She didn’t make any noise but the tears started slowly dripping down her nose and cheek. She secretly wished that someone would come pick her up.Time went by and no one came. Finally Candella pulled herself up. The room had a slight spin to it. Something caught her eye. There was a small whole in the side of her mother’s night stand, close to the bottom. Candella crawled to the side of the bed to examine the whole better. She stuck her index finger in to the whole; there was something hard and cold in side. Curious, Candella leaned over to the front of the night stand and opened the drawer. ‘Empty.’ She looked back at the whole. She then noticed a two inch by one inch indent surrounding the whole. Candella proceeded to stick her finger back in the whole; curve her finger slightly and gave a small tug. A small hidden drawer pulled open. In it was her mom’s ring, the one with the slightly pinkish-purple stone in the middle and two smaller white stones on either side of it, and the band was made of white gold. Candella picked up the ring and shut the little drawer. She loved her mother’s ring she would look at it every chance she could. ‘I thought mom lost this a month ago!’ Candella hugged the ring. “What are you doing in here?” Candella jumped and looked up. It was her father. His eyes were red. “Nothing” “Then please go to your room, I need to be alone.” Candella slid off the side of her mother’s bed and went to her room. She didn’t mind going to her room, she was going to go there anyway. She wanted to put her mother’s ring somewhere safe. Where no one might find it and try to take it away.

49

Bunny Girl. Jessica Tuterow

50

Tamaga (Tangi’s Story). Jessica Tuterow

“Mom, I’m leaving for School!” “Okay dear, drive safely, and have a good day at school!”

It’s been like this for about four years now, Mom has me tell her where I go or she asks me. The reason is for the accident that happed when I was in the eighth grade. We were a happy family of four; Mom, Dad, Danny and me, Tamaga. Yes, I Know it’s a weird name but it’s what they gave me so what can I say? We didn’t see each other except for dinner, and sometimes Dad couldn’t even make it for that. He had to work late ‘cause his stupid boss wanted him to work late. Danny had football or another ball practice; it depended on the time of year. I would hang out at my friends’ houses, depended on which one wanted me over at the time, until he was done and he’d come pick me up.Well one day Danny didn’t have practice, so we came straight home; which was definitely strange since they usually practice every day. Me being me, I didn’t think much about it, I was happy that we could go home and spend some time helping Mom around the house. As soon as I stepped into the door, I could tell something was wrong. You know the feeling you get when you walk into a dark house when no one is home -- mixed with the feeling you get when your mom tells you that your hamster isn’t just sleeping. Dad was sitting in the recliner, in the corner of the room, facing the T.V., which was off. He had that sort of blank look on his face. Meaning that the something bad feeling was coming from him. “Dad? Is everything okay?” Danny was already at his side, checking to see if he could help in anyway. Dad didn’t even look up, which was unlike him. Mom came in from the kitchen. She had the portable phone in her hand, instead of the usual spoon and apron. “Were going to have to make some changes in our schedules, Tangi, I need you to come home right after school to made dinner, and Danny you have to find time between or during practice to come home and clean a little around the house,”Danny had that look when he gets tackled, except this time he wasn’t expecting it, or knew why that person tackled him. In this case it was Mom, who can’t even hurt a fly because they feed the frogs and spiders, but that’s a different story. “Why, what happened?” I was a little caught off guard myself, so I have no room to speak, But I wanted to know more, (than perish the thought) of having to tell my friends that I couldn’t come over after school any more. Dad seemed to wake up when I asked this, giving him the look when you get when you hammer a nail in to the wall and the hammer goes through the wall right next to the nail, because you missed it. “I … got fired,” The effort it took him to say those three words, I could have pushed a mule into a big mud puddle. “So I’ve got a job and that is why I need your help,”

51

Mom cut in before I could push another mule in the mud, or before we could say anything. By this time Danni and I had sat down on the couch that was next to Dad’s recliner, and Mom was going for the other recliner. “Where are you going to be working?”I felt inclined to ask this only because Dad didn’t want to talk and Danni didn’t look eligible. “I’ll be working at the little craft store down the street that had been asking for me for a month now. It will be a little more than minimum wage, so we will have to cut down on the money we use every month, until Dad finds another job,”Mom Glanced at Dad who gave a weak smile that you usually give to a person who you really don’t like but your mom (or dad) makes you be friends with anyway. So we started our new schedules, and Danny had to go to practice every other day. When he didn’t have practice, he would come home like a little girl being deprived of the kitted she had seen in the pet store window. He would sit in the family room and listen to his C-D player. I lost a couple of friends like I thought I would because they’re the kind of people that if you don’t do what they want you to then you can’t be their friend, which if you ask me is stupid ( but then again who asked me?) That’s what I get for having fair-weather friends. By the end of the second month, Dad got a job. It didn’t pay as much as the last job, but it still helped with the money situation. Mom still kept her job so that we would still have that income. So I still had to help around the house, but at least Danny could go to more of his ball games and practices. That day felt like Christmas; I made dad his favorite, Chicken and dumplings. The new job didn’t quite fit like a job, Dad came home existed. He looked like he had just thought a speedy Gonzales, teenager how to drive down a highway, and that it was not the same as his play station game that he had just got for his 16th birthday last week. “Danny, will you turn off that music?”Dad was sitting there in his recliner with his head supported by his hand. Danny looked at Dad with that look a kid gives you when you take away his Halloween candy before dinner. Dad went over to him and unplugged the C-D player from his head phones, and threw it into the trash. Danny’s expression changed to when you walk into a wall during the night that you could have sworn wasn’t there before. “What did you do that for?” “I’m tired of you just sitting there listening to your music when we are in the family room.”Dad had that sense of feeling around him when you know your mom knows your lying but you still try to tell her you didn’t do whatever you had done -- mixed with a kid trying to blame his mom because it’s raining and he wants to go out and play with his friends. Danni stood up retrieved his C-D player, walked out the door, and slammed it as hard as he could, knocking the ‘thank you for coming’ sign off the door. Dad looked at me like a lost puppy.

52

“Was it something I said?”I looked at my dad like he had just told me to get down and give him 20, with my hands tied behind my back. By this time I had only one friend keeping me in check, Kissa. I was surprised that she hadn’t abandoned me yet. She’s one of those bounces of the walls really happy, friendly king of people.Danny had stopped going to practice completely, though he was coming home later and later. Danny and I stopped talking to each other during school partly because I started acting more of a loner, and partly because he had knew friends. Once I thought that he had worn a red shirt but when he came home that night he had on a green shirt. I had that feeling of day-sha-voo, and I didn’t know why. That next day I had this Feeling that I should stay after school. It was the sort of feeling you get when you’re playing hide-and-seek with your friends, then when they don’t find you, you go look for them and you realize that they have left you there hoping that you would get lost. So I went looking for Danny. I looked in the class rooms, gym, football field, and other places that I could remember where he liked to hang out. I finally found him behind the school almost in the woods. I was just about to run up to him when something caught my eye. Like when you’re in class and you are trying to listen really hard and you notice a little white speck floating in the air making you forget what you’re doing and the teacher asks you a question, when they know you just got distracted for two seconds. I felt my heart being dropped from a five story building and hit the concrete sidewalk below. “Danni what are you doing?”It was a rhetorical question, and he knew it. He looked like his stomach just tied it self in knots. He turned and ran. He knew that if Mom or Dad found out that he had been smoking he would be grounded for the rest of his life. Not because it’s bad for you, but that just another reason. The big reason he would be in trouble is because I’m highly allergic to cigarette smoke, If I get within five feet of someone smoking, I start chuffing, and I get this splitting headache, like someone taking an ax and chopping my head open like a log. If they stay around me for even 15 minutes I start having an asthma attack and sometimes need to go to the hospital if bad enough.I didn’t tell Mom or Dad of course only because we were having a hard enough time without it. Dad and Danny were growing further apart every day. I felt that the only ones that were still close were Mom and me, just because we had to discuss what we would buy to make dinner with. * * * * * * “Why?” “…” “I asked you a question!” “…” “ANSWER THE QUESTION!”Dad and Danny were at it again, but this time Dad actually was right. He had found out that Danny had been smoking. When Mom found out she about fainted, right there in the kitchen.

53

“Well maybe if you cared more about the family I probably wouldn’t have started! I was just tired of you taking all of your stress from your job and dumping it on me!”Danny was out of the door before you could say fudge bare eating monkeys.The next thing I remember was being woken up at two o’clock in the morning to go to the hospital to be told that my brother, the one I had lived with for my whole measly 14 years of life would never come back home. I always hated that hamster for some reason, I hated it when it was alive, when it died, and for some reason I hated it standing in front of the doctor in the hospital. (And I still don’t like it to day.)I don’t think anyone should be told that their sibling isn’t “just sleeping” but I don’t think that siblings hurt as bad as parents do when they lose a child because they loved the child even though they can be a pain in the neck.Dad quit his job and found a better one about a year later. As the broken up family that we were, we decided to go to a counselor. Which I still think she was on something, because she was listening to people’s problems, I gave her and everyone else who works like that a big round of applause.My life isn’t the same as when I turned 14, but now I have two best friends Kissa the girl that stuck with me and who’s always hyper; and Kit who has a lot more problems than me, poor girl, Lost her mom when she was four, and is now engaged with a man of her nightmares, and well that’s also another, longer, and more stranger story than mine.

Samanthie. Jessica Tuterow

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Lee’s Story. Jessica Tuterow

I can just barely remember when Mother was her usual happy, helping, loving self. That was when Uncle Dan was still alive. He could always make you smile even if you didn’t want to. It was a Wednesday; Uncle Dan was driving into work. He was a Computer Graphic Designer, in English? That means he helped make video games and the cool graphics on movies and that such. Anyway he was going to work on a cold, winter’s morning when a couple of teenagers hit a patch of black-ice and spun a few times before hitting Uncle Dan’s car. T-boned him right in the driver side door. Killed him instantly. The newspaper said that it wouldn’t have mattered if he had been wearing his seat belt. The only thing it would have done was mangled him up even worse. Grandmamma and Mother took it the hardest because they were the closest to him. Mother could just barely handle it, but Grandmamma on the other hand, she started drinking little by little, first it was only when someone mentioned his name, then it was every Wednesday, till it became an everyday thing.Grandmamma became so used to it that she wouldn’t have known what to do without it. Mother would drink with grandmamma but only once a month because she didn’t want it to affect her and her family. The only exceptions she made where with grandmamma on Uncle Dan’s birthday and Death day. Although Mother would slip every now and then. Grandmamma would take everything and the world out on Mother. Grandmamma had to move in with us because she wouldn’t go out in the winter time or on Wednesdays. She wouldn’t even get in to a car. The closer grandmamma got to dieing the worse Mother got with drinking. It got bad enough that Kissa and I would stay in our room so that Mother wouldn’t accidentally hurt us. By this time Mother had started to get violent. She would throw things at us at the most random times. It was like things would pop into her head and if we didn’t do them fast enough to please her or as soon as she thought of them she would get angry and start throwing things at us. I got the most of the abuse because I was trying to keep Kissa from getting hurt since she was only two and a half almost three. Although Mother would only ever though to hit our backs or legs, so no one ever really saw most of the bruises unless they were looking and even then they would just think that it was from me running around and falling. The only reason Papa didn’t see most of this happening was because he was always working to try and support us and Mother’s bad habit, and even if he did notice anything he was ether falling asleep from exhaustion or leaving the house to go to work. Grand pap would come over and take us out to the park or something so that we could run around and yell like normal kids. Although when Grandmamma passed away Mother stopped letting me go with Grand pap and Kissa.

55

She said that I was old enough to stay home and do my chores, which mostly included picking up after her. By the time I was six I had taught myself how to fish and spent most of my time with a book in one hand and the fishing poll in the other out by the pond about a mile and a half from our house. I would read until I caught a fish put down my book, take the hook out of the fish, set it free and go back to reading until another fish came along. One day I was walking towards the pond when I saw a little girl about my age run to the pond that I was heading to. When I finally got there she was sitting on a big rock, holding a big teddy bear. When I got closer she seemed to be crying. “What’s wrong?”The little girl startled nearly jumping out of her skin, looked up with her big, swollen, green eyes, and didn’t say anything. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me coming, I’m Lee by the way. What’s your name?”She stared at me for what seemed like forever “My name’s Candella but everyone calls me Candie for short”That was the first true friend that I ever had. We decided to meet at the pond every day. She would tell me her problems and I would tell her mine. Her Mother was dieing and there wasn’t anything anyone could do. So I taught her how to read so that she could pass the time at her house when things were going bad and she couldn’t come to the pond. About a month or so later my Papa came looking for me near the pond. “Lee! Where are you?” “Over here Papa! I’m fishing!”Papa came over to the pond and stood there for a second to catch his breath. “Oh! Who’s your little friend?” “This is Candie” “Nice to meet you Miss Candie”He nodded at her then looked at me. “Well I’m sorry to break up your little date, but lee it’s time to go,” “Oh! Then…”I picked up my fishing pole and handed it to Papa and then picked up the book we were reading and handed it to Candie. “Here Candie, Can you keep this till we meet again?” “Sure”I hugged her and left with my Papa. “Bye, Candie” “Bye-bye, Lee, bye-bye Lee’s papa”That was the very last meeting I Had with Candie at the pond. I didn’t Know it at the time but Papa had come home one to many times to Mother drunk and passed out somewhere in the house and Kissa and I having bruises all over us. He and Grand pap decided that we should pack up and move in with him in the states so that we could live a normal happy life in Kentucky, in a house where there is no drinking, no exceptions. Mother passed away about two months after we left. The doctor said that it was due to too much drinking and too much heartache in her life to keep on living. Dad went back and cleaned up the place so that one day if either Kissa or I wanted to go back and live there we could. Papa while cleaning found in one of Mothers old jewelry boxes an old heart shaped locket that had a picture of each of us in it and he gave it to Kissa. Right now I’m still living with Papa or Dad as I call him now, Grand pap and Kissa.

I met this very interesting kid the other day. At first I couldn’t tell if it was boy or a girl do to the clothes. Wearing a very loose black hooded sweater and blue jeans, the kid had attracted some bad company. As I got closer I noticed short read hair that had been died brown and was fading, fashioning a hair clip holding hair back out of the eyes. Definitely a girl. She was getting her self-backed into a wall by a bunch of drunken college kids. So I stepped in and helped her out. She glared at me with her dark emerald green eyes, then grudgingly thanked me and walked off. Rather rude if you ask me. Oh well I probably won’t be seeing her again…… Although I can’t place that feeling I got… like I’ve seen those eyes before…. whatever.

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Pathway. Larry Gibson

57

Before I Fall Asleep. Kirstin Neal

Broken, the state in which my life is left in. Family divided, heart shattered, health completely and utterly diminished. I am dying, and I think that’s what happens when you die. Your life dies with you. Ties with friends and family quickly slip away, because they don’t want to be the ones to make awkward, false small talk about how to “get better”. You’re volition practically non-existent the moment you accept what is going to happen. When that happens everything is downhill from there.

I remember the day I died, not in a physical sense, but spiritually. The feeling of dread, like a brick had formed in my stomach and was weighing me down. I felt slower that day, lethargic even. The house seemed quiet and peaceful, concealed to the truth. My feet drug me around the house like molasses, my eyes scanning in curiosity. I had no idea what I was looking for, just some bit of life. I ended up in front of my mother’s room, clouded as to how. I don’t remember walking there, I don’t remember what I heard, but all I remember is when I pushed the door open, what I saw. There sat my mother, in the corner of her room on the floor, face stuck in despair. Her fingers shook as they clung to an old photo book and tears painted her face like a portrait of sorrow. Her chest heaved as hard sobs wracked her body, her words were incomprehensive. Before I knew my body had even moved I was on the ground with my mother, both of us tangled in an embrace of agony. My hands wrapped around her body pulling her closer to me as she wept.

That day I became numb. Numb to the pain of the reality that surrounds me, numb to feeling. I realized that it was real; the pain, the fear, the pure unadulterated angst of life. I hated it, and I didn’t want it anymore. I pushed away everything, broke off from everything. I was now a shell, empty and alone. My father’s drinking was a reminder of the way I hurt him. My mother’s swollen eyes and empty stare a memento of the women I broke and took from my father. In my life time this is what I achieved. These are my accomplishments.

Today I reflect on who I was before I became sick. Before everything became a spiral downward. I was happy once. I was even beautiful. Now I am little more than a vegetable. Little more than nothing, but barley.

My mother sat in the corner of the room asleep, something she has been missing. My mouth formed a tight line as guilt settled into my body. My chest became heavy, my stomach knotted, my limbs wobbly. My eyes stung from the tears that begged to fall, but I refused to cry. I leaned my head back and swallowed a hard lump in my throat. I sighed, I never really thought about how much time I spent breathing. Now that I won’t be soon, it’s almost precious. Precious like my mother’s smile. Or like my father’s enthusiasm over a good basketball game. Precious like the love that they had. The love I destroyed.

At the age of fifteen I am no wise woman, but death gives you an almost peaceful way of thinking. A way of turning things in your favor, or what I call the silver-lining approach. Some days I will look at things half full, but I am dying. I don’t want everything to be rainbows and white picket fences. I want to hate, I want to cry, and I want to be.

I have accepted my fate, but I don’t want to die. I don’t want to hurt people anymore. I don’t want to be the reason everything is hopeless. Even though I am afraid, I hope my father gets his wife back, that Mom gets herself back, that my friends can move on. I don’t want to admit that I hope for things, because that might make me want to live, or give me a reason to think I can, but I know the truth. I know that death is what I was born to do, it’s what we all are. Some just sooner than others. I am sick, I am a sickness.

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I stared up at the bright lights of the hospital room this is where I’ve spent my last few weeks. The sound of moni-tors and people dying around me, have become the last song I will hear. My mother wanted to take me home, but home is too personal. I am too attached to home, well the memories that have been made there. Home isn’t home anymore, it’s a house. Home is where I could always expect to smile, a hug, Mom’s cooking, Dad’s jokes, it’s all gone. All those memories are just that, memories.Will it hurt, what will it feel like, where will I go? These are a few questions every dying person has floating around their head, but none of these are what my mind lingers on. I am worried, everyone has doubts about death. It’s death. I am afraid that I will die afraid. I don’t want to be afraid when I die. I don’t want my last thought to be one of panic or fear. I have been afraid my whole life, I have been sick my whole life. I want to be okay, or content. That’s how I want to go. I want the last memory of me to be one in which I’m not scared, I’m not in pain, and I’m not miserable.I’m worried that at this point my greatest fear will come true. I’m so afraid, of everything. I’m afraid of who I am not, being good enough, how my mother will be after I’m gone, who my father will be, what I will be?I will be gone. But will anything of me be left behind? Will I go on as a memory or gossip? Will I live forever in spirit or just fade away? Fade away like a song, like my last breath, like a thought. It is funny thinking it’s so simple, but it’s such a complex thing that no one can begin to explain it to me. They can’t tell me what it’s like to die, what it’s like to fall off the face of the earth. My heart stopping, my brain stopping, me ending.They’ve ensured me time and time again that it won’t hurt, that it will be just like floating. That like a boat on waves I’ll just drift away. They always make death seems so slow and peaceful, but how do they know? What if it’s sudden and quick? Not the peaceful death that is promised. I am so sick of the false stories, the unguaranteed guarantees. I am tired of the guilt! I am tired of it all! Why can’t someone tell me the truth! That I’ll be gone forever, I’ll be dead…. I know the truth, I know what happens. I am basically on the edge now. I just want someone to treat me like I am a human. Not like a dying child, or dead. I am still alive. I am still here. I am ready to die, but is everyone else ready for me to? Rather than accepting it they have repressed it.“Kimmy?” I looked over at my mother whose eyes were filled with sleep. I smiled at her and held out my arms. She stood up and walked to the hospital bed laying on the edge gently as though I am a delicate trinket. My throat tightened when I saw the dry tear marks on her face, as I leaned in to hug her.“Hi Momma.” She smiled and pulled me closer.“Your father is on his way he sent me a text.” She yawned.As if on cue the door to my room opened and in came my dad. “Hey Kimberly.” I waved my hand that was covered in IV tubes and tape. He came over and hugged me sitting on the edge of the bed. I looked at my parents, both seeming older than what they really are. So much stress and sleep deprivation has morphed them. Their hands lay on either side of my lap as they looked at me waiting for me to speak. I grabbed both their hands and intertwined them in my lap. They looked at each other and smiled. And for a split second I saw my mother’s old self. Dad even gave a genuine smile. Sad, but genuine.Throughout the day I had visitors come in and out of the room all coming to say goodbye. None of them knew they were saying goodbye, and I didn’t for sure, but the air in the room could be cut with a knife. It was painfully tense. My friends came and we talked as if they would see me at school on Monday. I hadn’t been to school since I was twelve. Mom pulled me out and said it was “too stressful”. Which really meant she worried because she couldn’t watch me.My cousins came, but they were too young to really grasp what was going on. Which meant they didn’t treat me like I was defective, or something to avoid. I enjoyed that.“Kimmy!” My little cousins, Tina, Ricky, and Macy, came running in like a wild stampede bringing life into the room. I perked up a bit giving them the first genuine smile I’ve had in a while. All three of them sat on my bed while my aunt Patricia sat in one of the visitor chairs. “We made you something.” Tina said with a wide toothy grin. Patricia looked at me with a confused smile.“Oh yea?” I asked with a smile. They nodded quickly and all three pulled out from behind their backs paper rings. My smile slightly faltered. “What are these?” I asked with a bright smile to show my appreciation.“They are halos for when you’re an angel.” I felt my heart jump into my throat. Patricia quickly stood.

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“Kim I’m so-…” I laughed cutting off Patricia. I took the paper rings and put one on my head.“How do I look guys? Like an angel?” I said posing with my hands together like a nun.“Beautiful!” They cheered, I joined them.“Hey guys,” I looked at everyone after a moment. “Can I talk with Mom and Dad?” I said with a smile. I felt my weakness deepen to my bones. I hurt, but I had unfinished business. I looked at my father, the strong provider of our home. I waved him over and he obliged leaning into me for a hug. We looked at each other our foreheads touching. I owed so much to this man.“Daddy.” I whispered. He gave a sympathetic smile and I returned the favor with a calm smile of my own. “Mom needs you. No more drinking, ok?” He sucked in a deep breath holding it in as a few tears slipped from his eyes betraying him. “Everything is going to get better, but mommy needs you. She will one day be the strong woman you knew, but you need to help her remember.” He let out a sob and whispered an ‘I promise’, before running out. My mother was standing in the corner with her hand over her mouth in pure despair. Her hair was a mess, her eyes puffy, her spirit torn. She pushed her hand closer to her mouth like it could keep the sobs down. She came running to me and fell into my lap. I rubbed her back and let her cry. When she finally seemed to calm down she crawled up and let her body rest next to mine. We faced one another and I smiled. Her face looked like that of a small child who’d been spanked. She didn’t know what she did wrong. I pulled her hands into mine and snuggled closer to her.“You did perfect Mommy…. I lived a happy life. So you have nothing to blame yourself for.” Another sob. “I love you Mom, thank you.” She pulled me closer and cried harder. I listened to her as the sobs became hard breathing, then those became soft snores. I listened to the world around me one last time, before I fell asleep….

Crescent Moon. Larry Gibson

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Lonliness Is A Snake. Skylar Fox

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The Missing Tool. Rita West

My dad was a butcher and had plenty of knives and a kit of sharpening tools. This kit had a stone, special clothe, and a sword-like piece that my dad worked so easily. I would run and get the kit for him and watch as his hands would move so quickly, like a musician playing a violin, my dad was so perfect and precise; it was rhythmic! My dad passed away and when asked if I wanted any of dad’s things, my anger took over and hastily said “No, I want my dad, not his things!” After several weeks I realized my heart didn’t really break and I could go on without my daddy. I decided I wanted some items of his and went to my mother and ask for specific items, a pair of his Levis, a shirt, a pair of pajama pants, a robe, his knives and sharpening kit. To my surprise she had promised it to my oldest sister. I was furious, I thought I was going to explode! My mother giving away the most precious thing to me, those knives and kit was the things I had the most connection too. I was the one who helped him butcher and I was the one who used those tools right beside my dad, not her. I waited till my mom was busy and stole them right out of the cabinet and have not said a word about it. The only problem is I put these knives and tools away, out of sight so that my mom couldn’t see them and now I can’t find them. I have looked in all my favorite hiding spots and no luck! I just hope my mom doesn’t start asking about them, what will I say? “Yes mom I stole them from you and lost them, but I the other hand, my daddy would be laughing his ass off!

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Schizophrenia. Kirstin Neal

Mike Terrence a young man who, at the age of twenty-seven, lived a life of carelessness. He was a pessimistic man, filled to the brim with hate. He, like his father, knew his way around the bottle. He was a heavy alcoholic. This past time only deepened his angst and bitterness towards himself and humanity. Drink after drink he would drown himself in an outmoded state of life. Utterly useless and he knew it. Mike had little money, no family, a poor job as a garbage handler, and a crappy house.

The night was like any other, or so Mike thought. To him it was just another crappy night of another crappy week in his crappy life. Yet, this night was darker. The sky was starless, and lay over the city like a sheet of black. The air seemed thicker, and heavier on ones lungs. Mike didn’t notice, because it was late, and he had thoroughly made sure he was drunk by now. The beer cans scattered around the old, worn, burgundy recliner proving his state of inebriation.

Mike sat in the recliner and stared blankly at the sad excuse of a television; his mind, lingering on something to cause a bitter look of disgust to cross his face. The thought of Sarah Peterson, a tight young woman who recently began working as a secretary at one of his pick-ups, made him fume with anger.

He recently worked up the courage to ask her out for dinner, and she laughed in his face. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re just not my type.’ She said, holding in a fit of laughter. She looked at him as if he were a moron. Mike went to leave and knocked into a desk falling backward. Everyone burst out in hysterical laughter causing Mike run from the humility seeping into his nerves.

Mike took another large swig of his beer, so drunk he just let it fall to the floor. The memory had stirred something inside him. He stood stumbling and swaying on his way to obtain yet another beer when he passed by his phone. Stopping and just glaring at the business card with all of Sarah’s information on it. He had grabbed it when he first met her, very much interested in how she could possibly serve him. Then he thought she was a beauty, now another bitch in the society of shit he felt he lived in.

He barged up to the phone using the small beaten coffee table it sat on for balance. His hand that rested on the table was in a fist as he pushed his knuckles as hard as he could into the wood. Grabbing the phone from the hook he attempted multiple times to dial the number only succeeding the fifth time. He waited for someone to pick up, but no one did. Sarah’s cheerful voice came over the machine, suggesting for people to leave their name and number. Mike let out a noise that sounded like a growl only do to the drunken burp that forced its way up his throat.

‘Hey, this is Sarah!’(Giggle),’please leave your name and number at the beep!’(Giggle). Beep.

Whatever had been stirring inside Mike snapped. Hearing her happy filled him with blackness, a blackness that could kill.

“Listen here you stupid bitch! You think you can get away with treating me like a moron? You think you can humiliate me like you own me? Well you got another damn thing coming! You act like you are so much fucking better than me because you sit in your little chair and push papers all day. Well you’re not, you know why? Because I am fucking God! I am running this show and no one can ever-,” The power went out and the line went dead.

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Tree. Skylar Fox

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“Damn it!” Mike cried in frustration as he ran his hands over his face as if to clear away his previous state of mind. He stormed through the house and found a flashlight lying on a dresser that was randomly placed in his dump of a house. Mike angrily cursed his sad life and made his way outside to the fuse box.Outside Mike searched for the fuse box, but in his drunk-en state it became an almost impossible task. Putting his hand on the wall he followed along it, relying on touch rather than his hazed sight. His hand slid along the chipped side panels, which angrily dug into his hand re-minding him to paint them. He continued until stopping at the presence of something wet and slimy. He moved it around his fingers, and it gave off a potent odor.“What the hell?” Mike groaned and shined his light at the wall. A dark black liquid ran down the wall and now covered his hand. His eyes widened and he quickly began flailing to wipe it off on his worn jeans. Looking back at the wall he saw that there was more, and then another realization surged through him causing him to drop the light. He quickly grabbed it again and shined it back at the wall. On the wall, in this unknown liquid, were words which read, “A soul filled with hate will consume one’s self.”Mike began breathing heavy his already slightly out of shape body trying to carry him inside as quickly as it could manage. The door stood wide open and he dove inside slamming the door and locking it. His body like a barricade lay against the door. He was a heap of drunken inhibitions and sadness on the floor of his “home”. Fear was playing with his mind and he finally became angry. Like an animal in a corner and rose up from the floor and prepared to fight.“Who’s there? I swear I will kick your ass before you can even blink.” He roared through the house, his mouth loosely moving allowing saliva to fly and spray every-where. He started running through the house screaming at the top of his lungs about how he could take on any-one. He emerged into his room and under his bed sat a large and long box. Grabbing it he carelessly threw it on the old must comforter covered bed. Inside lay his gun, a large 12 gauge shot gun that he named Gladis, after his mother.Cocking the large metal of the gun, the sound bounced off the walls of the dark house. He let out a crazed laugh-ter and began to hastily search through his home with no regard for his safety. He began to feel a rush that pushed him further. Suddenly he heard a shuffling and shot in the direction, only to find it bare. He screamed and began running again only to fall and drop his gun. He heard the

sound of scratching and feet dragging, which cause him to erupt from the floor like lava from a volcano. He swung his arms around and hit at the air. Realizing he wasn’t hitting anything he froze.He opened his eyes and saw nothing, but in the corner of his eyes he saw it. More black liq-uid seeping into his home from the crease of a corner. He began to panic and pant. He started thinking what to do and who could be in his house? Why were they here? What did they want?‘You.’ Mike’s eyes burst open and he spun around. He heard that, but he didn’t see them. In the corner he saw movement. He went to grab his gun. ‘Why? You know I will take you. I thought you wanted to die.’“Leave me alone!” Mike fell to his knees and be-gan to sob. He wasn’t sure why, but he feared for his pathetic life. Even if it wasn’t how he wanted it, he wanted it. He reached up into the air as if asking for forgiveness, but quickly pulled back. Suddenly as if a switch had been flipped he was mad again. Thrashing around like child throw-ing a tantrum, he picked up his gun and put the butt of it through his television.“No! I won’t beg you! You are too much of a coward to show yourself! I am not afraid of you! I am not afraid of the dark!” He began to throw things and smash more. He felt that this action would prove his point, but the real emotional whirlwind he was feeling made him unsure. He may have been scared, he may have been terri-fied even, but he refused to show that. Anger consumed his feature making him dark-er, making his appearance like that of a psycho. His eyes seemed darker and more sunken in, his hair tousled, his smile cynical. He laughed as if mocking the darkness. Noise came from the kitchen and he burst through the house to inspect, his gun at the ready. Nothing was there, but more noise from the bedroom, and then the living room. He played this game until he felt a chill run down his spine, one that made him freeze. Spinning around, there it was. It was a cloud of darkness, a void of hate and anger that rippled in waves.Mike screamed and ran to the living room to hide, but it was gone. He heard noise at the door, and he screamed.

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“You better back off! I will kill you, I swear to God!” He held his gun up and shot a warning shot. He slowly made his way to the door. He stood for a moment taking a deep breath attempting to clear his mind. Then, probably sooner, than he would have liked he threw the door open and let out a round, but before he could inspect if his shot was a hit, he felt an impact. Round after round was left off and each were a direct at the chest of twenty-seven year old Mike Terence.Mike’s body fell to the ground and his last sight was the blue and red lights of the police cars. Mike had been called in due to loud disturbances, and when learning that he had a gun, they thought him to be hostile. Mike died that night due to the mix of al-cohol and a mental illness that had been working its way to an unacceptable state these last few years. Witnesses say that they have noticed weird behavior coming from Mr. Terrance for the last few months. Some say stalking, delusions, and personality change, but all noticed the increase in drinking. No one spoke out to him, but they all noticed his undeniable anger. He had been causing issues for some time now, and it seems that he just had an episode that got out of hand. No one expected this of Mike Terrence, but no one really cared either.Mike was an example of a darkness that consumed him. His hatred rotted away his mind as he tried to cure it with liquor, only quenching its thirst. It want-ed to kill him, he wanted to kill him. This darkness fed off his diligence. His hatred was rash, but definite-ly concentrated. It was concentrated at a point one thing. Himself, he was unpleased with his being, and the life he had built for himself. The life he had been criticizing so much. He never stopped to think it’s better to be alive, than to be eaten alive by yourself.Mike Terrence was a menace to himself, he received the consequence for being selfish and sloth. The downward spiral of a life seemed to be insignificant to others, but a colossal unraveling to him. He faced himself in the end, and lost due to his creation. He created a monster, an epitome of evil and hatred. As he died the words rung off his skull. “A soul filled with hate will consume one’s self.” These were the word that his mother spoke the day of his father’s fu-neral as the bitterly stared into his casket. The day he swore he would never end up like his father.

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Zechariah and Sis. Jessica Tuterow

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Happy Seamstress. Jessica Tuterow

Growing up we would visit my grandma on the weekends. There my mother and grandma would spend all their time either sewing or cooking. I would sit at the dining room table, which was piled two feet deep with sewing items, watching my grandma cut out different shapes out of fabric and hand them to my mother. She would then run them through a machine that would stitch them together. With the four spools of thread simultaneously being pulled through what I now know is called a serger. I was in awe of how quickly my mother could create pieces of fabric into strips that would eventually become a quilt. My mother would then hand them back to my grandma where she would rotate them around until she like what she saw and then she would pin two strips together and use her sewing machine to gradually put all of the strips into one big quilt.I can remember the sewing lessons that they gave me growing up. The very first one was I had to stuff a baby toy that my grandma had just made for one of her care packages that she volunteered to make. However, before we could stuff the ball we had to turn it write side out. She would sew pieces of fabric together so that the seams would be on the inside when flipped. To do that she would leave a half to an inch long spot where she would not sew, so that my sisters and I with our tiny fingers could start squishing the fabric through the impossibly tiny hole. We would get frustrated at the bigger the ball because that meant more fabric to try and shove through the hole. Although we would always manage to do it, thus we would make a race out of it. My grandma would have a grocery bag full of toys needed flipped and the four of us would grab a hand full and as quickly as we could, without popping any threads, would flip and stuff the toys with pillow fluff. To me it looked like white cotton candy, but tasted nothing like it, don’t judge I was a kid. We would have to stuff them so that when squeezed they would bounce back into shape. Otherwise it did not count towards the final number when we were done with them all. My second lesson in sewing was not as fun, it took a lot of patience and for a kid that is asking for a lot. When my grandma would accidentally sew two pieces of fabric together wrong we would get the task of undoing that mistake. Grandma handed me a long round object that was about the size of a pencil but only four inches long with a ridge in the middle of it. I had seen her use it before so I knew what to do. I popped the cap off and inside was a metal stick with a lopsided Y on the end. On the shorter end was a tiny red ball and the longer end came to a point. At the base of the Y between the two ends was flatter and had a sharp edge. I put the cap on the bottom to make it easier to hold and so that I would not lose it. The seam ripper, it is pretty strait forward with the name, this tool helped you rip the accidental seem apart so that you could fix your mistake. My grandma felt that before you could learn to sew you should know how to fix mistakes. Also that once you knew how agonizingly long it is to undo a mistake that it would teach us to use our heads before we just willy nilly sewed two pieces together. Finally we got to the learning to use the sewing machine. My grandma let me pick out some scrap pieces of fabric that I liked so that I could just sew them together. I was in heaven, I was sewing small pieces of strangely shaped pieces together and I was making a crazy quilt. Granted it was a small crazy quilt, one for my baby doll, but it was still sewing and I was very happy and content. My next project was for 4-H. That meant learning how to read and follow a pattern. Reading, I was getting better at reading but I still needed help with the big words, At least there were pictures to help explain how to sew the pattern together. My grandma told me

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something that I will always remember, Measure twice so that you only have to cut once. My sister, Rachel had cut out a shirt that she was trying to finish for herself, and she only had a small amount of fabric. However, instead of measuring twice she just cut, turns out that she cut the sleeves wrong and she did not have enough fabric to re-cut the sleeve that she wanted so my mother had to step in and cut out one that would fit her and still work well with the pattern that Rachel was using. The shirt turned out nice but because of that the lesson stuck into my mind better. So I had to start on something easier, a tote, it turned out hot pink with a white draw string. Although, I turned out with a few band aids on my fingers, due to the amount of times that I stuck myself with pins trying to get it just right. From there my love of sewing grew as my ability to sew more complex projects also grew. Every Black Friday we got to go to Jo-Ann fabrics and pick out fabric that we loved so that we could make ourselves pajamas. We would spend hours picking out flannels for cozy warm pj’s. I remember picking out a variety of pink fabrics with girly designs including: unicorns, ballerinas, animals, and paisleys. Then we would get our number and we would have to wait for them to call for us so that we could get it cut to the length that we wanted. While we waited we would go to the pattern book table. They had multiple books from different brands such as Butterick, McCall’s, Simplicity, and Vogue. We would sit in the chairs, take a pencil from the little buckets they had that held them, a piece of paper from the paper holder and we would flip through the books and write down the patters we liked the most. My mom would then tell us which patters were on sale and we could each get a few patterns so that our pattern collection could grow. Then we would go over to the filing cabinets and look through the numbers until we found the ones we wanted. Then when our number was called we would watch as the employee would lay the fabric out flat between two metal rulers that were attached to the counter, to indicate one yard. Then they would unroll the bolt of fabric a few flips and then measure out the amount that my grandma and mother indicated. Then the employee would slide the scissors down the grove in the ruler like butter. Then they would fold up the fabric and then use a scanner to scan the bar code on the bolt and punch in the amount cut off. Once all the fabric was cut the employee would print out a receipt so that we could take it to the front of the store and pay for it. I found out later in life that they would spent around 300 dollars every year on that day because of the great deals that were given on that day. Along the way I learned several sewing tips thanks to my sister Rachel, turns out that sewing does not come easily to everyone. I learned that sewing in a straight line is ideal, otherwise when you turn the garment right side out you get strange indents that you do not want. Being slow and steady when polling threads so that you can make ruffles is a good thing, otherwise the threads break and you have to re-sew the stitches and re-pull the entire thing, which can get tedious. When you make a mistake and you have to pick out the stitches with a seem ripper, you should make sure that you pick out the part you want to, otherwise you get frustrated and pick out more than you had to in the first place. When sewing make sure you keep the fabric flat so that you don’t sew together the middle of the fabric with the edges, especially when you are using the serger, otherwise it will also cut a hole in the fabric meaning not only do you have to pick it out but you have to re-cut the piece that you accidentally put a hole in the middle of the fabric. These lessons and many other I have learned thanks to my sister and her unfortunate mistakes while she was sewing. All throughout my life I have been oddly shaped. As a kid I went from being a beanpole with hips to tall, pudgy, and still with hips. Thanks to this fact I had to learn

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how to properly adjust patterns so that they would fit me properly. I would have to make the top portion of a dress pattern a smaller size, then in the hip area make the patter a couple sizes bigger, and I would have to add a few inches in the length so that it would be long enough for me. There for once I had kids of my own I decided to make clothes for them. I discovered that because the patterns were smaller they were easier to make therefore my sewing skills grew greatly. I learned that I really loved making little girl dresses. I stared with patterns and then I selected fabric that I thought would look good in that style, making sure that the design on the fabric was not too big or too small for the cuts that I would have to make for the dress. I learned how to properly put in a zipper. I struggled with making button holes, but I eventually got it so that most of my button holes would look the same on one garment. I found out that I liked adding ribbons and bows to dresses to make them look even cuter. I realized that making my own bows was fun. I could take two rectangles, four inches by three inches, and sew them together then flip it like I did when I was a kid. I could then hand stitch it in the middle and then pull on it to make it ruffle. Setting that one down I would then make a smaller rectangle and once flipped I could wrap it around the middle of the first rectangle and sew it closed, and that would make a simple bow that I could attach to a dress, skirt, hair band, or even a ribbon for a bow tie. From that I realized that I could manipulate patterns that I used frequently and make my own variation of that pattern. I had been coloring with my daughter in a Strawberry Shortcake coloring book when I came across a drawing of Lemon Meringue that I thought would look adorable on Lillianna. I then sketched out how I would go about making the outfit. First I would make a green circle skirt with a yellow trim around the bottom edge with an elastic stretchy waist. Then I would make a yellow shirt from a bodice part of a dress pattern that I had that had long sleeves that I could make into quarter sleeve length. Then I could add frills at the sleeve and at the base of the shirt. However, I would need to make a lemon, technically I would need at least three lemons. I sketched out a half moon with the diameter of 4 inches and cut it out. I then made a tear drop piece that was about one inch big. I then cut out two of the big half-moon out of a light yellow and the three tear drops where cut out of a darker yellow. I sewed the three tear drops onto one of the half-moons Now I had one half of the lemon, that I sewed face down onto the other half moon and left a spot open so that I could flip it right side out to have the whole lemon. I made five more of them, two became pockets for the bottom half of the shirt, one was attached at the top of the shirt, one was hand sewn to a head band, and the last two where sewn to a long yellow strip that separated them to make a tiny pouch with two white buttons attached to them so that a green strap with button holes could be buttoned on so that my daughter had a cute little purse to carry with her. Then to finish off the look I made a thin really long strip that could be tied around her middle, just like the lemon meringue in the coloring book. I have happily made my children lots of different clothing over the years. My daughter has had over twenty different dresses in her six years of life. I have made pajamas, coats, vests, skirts, and dresses. The library held a small comic convention that was open to the public and one of the things they did was a costume contest. So the night before I crafted a pair of overalls for my son and an entire super girl outfit for my daughter. Zechariah got dressed up as a minion with a yellow shirt, goggles, and the overalls. Lillianna had on red shoes, white tights, a blue skirt, a blue shirt with a red and gold S symbol sewn on, a red cape, and a matching homemade backpack. Lillianna won the children part of the costume contest. To be totally honest the best part of sewing is putting the finished product on my child and seeing their face light up with happiness that it was made just for them. That makes me a very happy seamstress.

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The Future. Skylar Fox

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Elf. Skylar Fox

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Moon Cakes. Jessica Tuterow

It was located in the middle of town, where all the rich and fancy people lived. Just like all the others around it, their estate was huge. The six foot stone fence that ran down three blocks of the street, along the border of the property make it hard for trespassers to enter and for any passersby to look in. All you could see was the roof peaks and the tops of the trees that were in the back garden as they slowly shed their orange and brown leaves in preparation for winter. After the slender gentleman with the walking stick knocked on the gate door twice, they waited for someone to let them in. She did not like having to wait with the old man. It had been a long day and she had been passed from one person to the next, like a rotten potato that no one wanted to hold very long. She felt tired, dirty, and most of all unwanted. All she wanted to do was lie down in her oddly comfortable, lumpy bed and snuggle up with her patchwork quilt her mother had made for her six years ago. She thought back on the day that her mother had made it for her. At the age of three, it seemed like her mother was making magic each time she hand sewed a new piece of fabric onto the next. She wished that she could spend every day sewing with her, learning to make magic just the way her mother did. Unfortunately, that was all impossible now. She could feel her face warming up and she tried to force herself not to cry. However, a couple tears managed to slip out before she managed to get them under control by squeezing her eyes shut. “Now we can’t have that,” said a gentle, deep, grizzly bear of a voice.Startled she looked up to see a potbellied man with a peppery beard holding a white lacy handkerchief that seemed to be getting closer to her eyes. The young girl leaned back slightly. “You’ll get it dirty” her voice cracked slightly due to the lump forming in her through. “That is quite all right, it is washable,” he smiled at her as he wiped away the tears, “There, is that not better?” she half smiled at him. As he stood up she realized that he was only a foot taller than herself, making him no more than five feet tall. “He even looks like a teddy bear” she smiled to herself “Grandpa looked like a teddy bear too” her smiled turned into a painful one, as she remembered her Grandfather. The man who had answered the door stepped to the right side up against the open door. “This way, please” he held open the door with his left foot as he bowed slightly and held his right hand out gesturing that they go straight down the path that led to the front of the house. The girl hesitated, wondering if this was going to be like any of the other places they had visited today. The gentleman that was with her noticed she was not moving. He placed his hand between her shoulder blades and gave a gentle but firm shove to get the girl going. As they walked toward the house the girl notice all the flowers that lined the cobblestone walkway. Half way down the path there was a break in the flowers. There stood a hand carved bench. At a glance the girl noticed the back of the bench had flower cut outs in the shape of lilies. She would have liked to stop and admire the craftsmanship. However, the gentleman still had his hand on her back and was firmly pushing her forward with each step that he took. She turned her head over her right shoulder and tried her best to look at all the details, but they were to far away now and they were getting further and further away. “No matter what happens, I want to look at that more closely, it might be my...” her train of though was interrupted by the teddy bear man. “Here we are,” he told them as he slid open the front door. “If you would be so kind as to take off your shoes and put on these slippers.” he handed them each a pair of simple fuzzy white house slippers. He then gestured to a pillow top bench right inside the door where they could sit down to change their shoes. She took the slippers, sat down, and started removing her sandals. By the time she got them off and was looking for a place to put them the gentleman had sat down next to her and only had one shoe off. She looked at the teddy bear man, and before she could even ask he pointed to a shelf in front of her. She put her hands together and brought them up so that her fingers touched her bottom lip, forgetting about the shoes she was holding. She then bowed slightly and mouthed thank you to the nice man. She stood up and walked over to the shoe shelf and placed her dusty shoes on the bot-

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tom on the left, closest to the door. She then sat back down next to the gentleman to wait on him, who was now just getting to his second shoe. After a few minutes the gentleman finally had on his house slippers and got up to place his shoes on the shelf. Once he got to the shelf he looked at the top shelf and stared at the shoes that were already in the middle. His face slightly changed to a look of disgust as he used his shoes to slide the incriminat-ing shoes out of his way. As he placed his shoes directly in the middle his face changed back to the smug bet-ter-than-thee look that he loved to display on his face constantly. The girl had a feeling that if he ever did not get his way that he would glare the situation down until it subsided to his will. The teddy bear man must have realized that the gentleman was finished with the mundane task and was ready to get the initial task over with. Getting the juvenile girl out of his hands and making her a dilemma to someone else. “This way please.” the teddy bear man had past them as they were putting their shoes away. He was now beckoning them to follow him down the hallway. They followed him like little ducklings as he turned left at the first T in the hallway that they came to. Next they turned right, then left, and another right. Soon she became lost with the amount of turns they had taken. She had stopped paying attention to the two men in front of her and began looking at what they were passing. On the walls were different types of paintings. Some of the paintings were dainty looking, with ballerinas, swans, or plants. Whereas others looked strange or simple with splashes of colors, or the color pallet was off. There were other pieces of artwork as well, including vases, statues, chests, and lots more. As they passed a white vase, with intricate azure lines painted on it, she wondered if they had passed that identical vase two or three turns before. All she knew for sure was that they were headed towards the center of the maze like house.

Kimono. Jessica Tuterow

Suddenly she bumped right into the back of the gentleman, who had apparently stopped. His head turned quickly around, almost completely backwards. His eyes were wide open and angry looking. The poor girl almost jumped out of her skin. “An owl, he looks like a mad owl!” “Watch where you are going” The gentleman growled quietly under his breath at her. The girl backed up a few paces and bowed her head in a silent apology. She then peeked her head up a little to check and see if he was still looking at her. He was back to waiting in front of a large ornate door. It was a hand carved wooden double door that was at least half again as big as a regular sized door. Along the edges of the door was carved in the shape of ivy with lovely dainty flowers hidden periodical-ly throughout the leaves. In the center of the two doors was a circle divided into quarters. In each circle was part of a tree. The top left hand part of the tree was carved to look like a blooming sakura tree. She decided that this part of the tree looked like spring time. The quarter on the top right looked more like a tree in the summer time. And the bottom two quarters looked like autumn and winter time for the tree. However, she did not get to look at the detailed as closely as she would have liked. The door slid open reveling an older gentleman sitting properly on his knees as if he was in a busi-ness meeting. “He looks strict, that cannot be good” she did not want to move. She had met multiple people these couple of days that had been strict enough to run an army. “Will this be the place, will they be the ones?” Yet again the gentleman

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guided her into the room due to her freezing up again. He knelt down in front of the older man on one of the mats that seemed to be placed there for them. The girl followed suit and sat down next to him to his left. The gentleman bowed slightly to the older man, so the girl copied him. She was afraid that she might upset them if she came across as disrespectful. “Good evening sir, thank you for letting us take up some of your time out of your busy schedule” The gen-tleman quietly started the conversation after sitting back up. The older man nodded to this as if a silent acceptance of this interruption. “We have come to you after a tragic accident has occurred.” He gestured toward the young girl. “I am sorry to say that this young lady’s parents passed away last week.” He paused so that the older man could soak in the sad news. “We have visited a few other family members, however they have all requested that I find her a home that could afford to take her in.” The older man’s face fell with each word the gentleman told him. The girl did not like feeling the pity that was now resonating in the room. She let the conversation fade away as she turned her head to the large picture window that was to her left. Outside was a lovely garden. Flowers, trees, there was even a koi pond in the middle of the garden. As her eyes wondered along the rustling plants she noticed a strange movement next to a far off tree on the other side of the garden. She let her eyes focus on the movement. There by the base of the tree sat a lady dressed in a kimono sat on a blanket. Next to her was a small picnic basket. The girl watched as the lady opened up the basket and pulled out a small plate with two pieces of moon cake on it. The lady carefully and delicately ate one of the two pieces of the moon cake. “Moon cake, that is right, it is that time of year, Mom was so excited that I would help her this year” The young girl watched as the lady’s face grew from a slightly happy face to a soulful and sorrowful as she reached the last bite of her piece of cake. Then the girl was in aw as the lady placed the plate at the base of the tree and cried. “Miss,” The girl jumped as her attention was brought back to the room. “Miss.” She realized that the older man was talking to her. She starred at him inquisitively to let him know that she was now listening to him. As she did this she could feel the gentleman next to her judging her with his eyes. “I would like to know if we let you live here would you like to live with us?” she could not believe her ears. No one had asked her that question before. “Miss, I would like to....” He had started again as if she did not hear him. She started nodding her head slowly as she remembered all of the beautiful items that she passed on her way to meeting this kind man. Then she felt her head nodding faster as she remembered the lovely garden and wanting to explore it. She even was curious about the lady that she had seen. She would not mind getting to know why the lady did what she did. Then she thought about all of the previous family members had pushed her aside without worrying about what would hap-pen to her. The door they had walked though earlier slid open. As the girl turned her head her eyes rested on the eyes of the new guest. It was the lady from the garden. She walked into the room reverently without making a sound. “Dear,” The older man looked at the lady who was now sitting down next to him on his right side. “How do you feel about accepting this lovely lady as our new daughter?” The lady looked at the young girl. As she did so her face lit up with happiness. “I would love that.” The girl knew she was at her new home

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Chibi Ace of Cards. Jessica Tuterow

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The Gibson Cousins. Larry Gibson

This photo is circa 1942. Probably within 6 months of the attack on Pearl Harbor. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor changed life in America. I was only 1 ½ years old so I only gleaned insight into the effects of that event from stories passed down by my family. My uncle Richard who was and is my hero, joined the U. S. Navy as a pilot sometime after the attack. He and my dad had flown Waco 10s which were open cockpit biplanes and Piper J-2s which were high wing monoplanes together in the 1930’s and I heard many wild stories of how they thrilled family and friends as they performed their loops, rolls and spins at low levels, just like the daring barnstormers of the day. Uncle Richard was also a member of the team who set a world endurance record in 1932 by flying a small 2 place airplane continuously over Muncie, Indiana for over 30 days without landing. At the time, it became known as “The flight to nowhere”. They only held the record for a few weeks before another group of aviation enthusiasts stayed aloft even longer. While Uncle Richard and many, many others were fighting for freedom all over the world, life went on in Indiana by growing food and supplying goods for the civilian population as well as for the military. My best guess is that this photo was taken in the summer of 1942 while the war was raging in Europe and other parts of the world. I was insulated from these world events because of my age and these five young ladies. These are the Gibson cousins. I was privileged to be the youngest of the six, as well as the only boy. I was babied, coddled, bossed around, scolded and loved by these girls. Arranged by age from left to right are Ann, Sandy, Judy, Marilyn, Rosalie and Larry. Sitting on Aunt Mildred’s back porch I could see a large part of my world. Straight ahead was a fragrant field that was sometimes hay to be baled by shirtless, sweating teen-age boys, sometimes summer flowers that smelled like perfume and sometimes a grass runway for small airplanes that roared like lions and lifted off the ground like no automobile could. These airplanes were owned and flown by my dad and his brothers. The grass strip was also open to any pilot who drifted by, saw the runway and was curious.

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To my left were two large concrete block buildings. Both had the Gibson name attached to them. The largest was an ice skating arena that had been built about the time I was born in 1940. Ice skating was a fun family activity as well as entertainment. In the 1940’s and 1950’s, the arena hosted the “Ice Cycles”, a travelling Ice Show with professional figure skaters dancing, performing and working their magic on the captivated audiences. Additionally it was home to two different professional hockey teams – the “Muncie Chiefs” and the “Muncie Flyers”. On home game night in Muncie, the arena was packed with fans screaming for their team. The excitement matched that at High School basketball games in that time and professional hockey today in the big cities. These events were favorites of the Gibson cousins and of course, we got in free! Upon entering the front door of the arena we were confronted by knotty pine paneling, steam radiators with benches built on top to sit on and warm up after falling on the cold ice floor. Live organ music was playing and the tunes intermixed with the delicious fragrance of hot dogs and popcorn freshly made. Memories of one of the “girls” taking me out on the ice with them permeate my brain. I could do nothing wrong in their eyes – well, except for my sister – she had a different opinion of how “cute” I was. The other building was an ice manufacturing plant built in the 1920’s. In the 1940’s, most people kept their food somewhat fresh and cool with the use of an “ice box”. This was a wooden insulated box with 2 doors, one above the other. In the top compartment, a large block of ice was placed to provide the “cool”. Perishables were placed in the lower compartment. As the ice melted, it absorbed the heat, turning the ice to water which drained out the bottom. Our family provided and delivered these blocks of ice to the eagerly waiting customers. The original customer home route where the Gibson Ice Company pedaled its services was in Muncie. My grandfather delivered ice to those customers from an insulated box on the back of a wagon pulled by a mule. On regular routes, the mule quickly learned the route and would stop without provocation in front of the customer’s home. Later in my life, the ice plant and its operation would become a very important part of my experiences, but in my younger years, it was a big, noisy, scary, smelly, giant building that I very cautiously approached. The noise came from a huge stationary diesel engine that ran the equally huge compressor which allowed us to turn warm water into blocks of ice. This compressor was driven by the diesel engine through belts connected to a huge pulley about six feet in diameter and two feet wide. Upon opening the door into the “Engine Room”, the heat, noise, diesel fumes and vibration made it feel like a freight train was bearing down on me. The remainder of my life experience at this time revolved around these five girls. Ann was the oldest. Her dad and mom were Earl and Mildred. Earl was the grumpy business man and Mildred was the caretaker and Miss Manners. Ann always made sure someone was watching out for little Larry. In later years, she took me swimming on hot summer days and kept me from injuring myself while learning tricks on ice and roller skates.

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Sandy was the next oldest. Her dad and mom were Glen and Jewell. Glen was the mountain man and Jewell was the Queen. I think that made Sandy the princess. I remember the Sandy teaching me to play the old duets on Grandma Gibson’s pump organ. To earn my lesson, I sat on the floor and pumped the pedals with my hands so the girls could play. It finally got to be my turn and someone else would pump. Too soon, though, the girls would leave and I had difficulty pumping with my feet and playing with my hands. I guess that was a little like flying an airplane or driving a car. They were all meant to be operated by grown-ups. Next in age was my sister Judy. Our parents were Marlin and Betty. Marlin was the rebel and daredevil. Betty was kind of the black sheep. She came from the wrong side of the tracks and didn’t finish high school. She was, however, the prettiest of the three Gibson cousins’ mothers. Naturally I spent more time with Judy. Not only because she was my sister, but because we lived in Anderson and the others lived in Muncie only a few hundred feet from each other and the two business buildings our families were intimately involved with. When my grandfather Alonzo decided to expand the ice manufacturing business, he chose Alexandria and Anderson as the expansion locations. My dad’s older sister Nellie and her husband Earl Oliver moved to Alexandria to manage the ice plant there. Marlin, the youngest Gibson child and my dad, was chosen to manage the new ice plant being built in Anderson. This was a hotly contested and difficult decision for my dad. After graduating from Muncie Central High School in 1932, Marlin wanted to attend Purdue University and study Mechanical Engineering. His dad, Alonzo told him that was fine as long as he could pay for all of it himself, because Alonzo had a better idea. If Marlin would stay working in the family business, Alonzo would buy him a brand new 1932 Plymouth coupe (with a rumble seat) and within three years, set him up with his own brand new ice plant in Anderson. He, like his older sister, would manage the business and pay for it from the income it produced. My dad was more interested in aviation and aircraft mechanics, but the offer proved too intoxicating. He and my mother Betty Sebree were married July 15, 1932 on her sixteenth birthday and they soon moved to Anderson. Uncle Richard, by the way, is my mother’s only brother. We made lots of twenty-mile trips from Anderson to Muncie in our 1936 Plymouth 4-door sedan. My sister Judy and my dad and I would sing all the way there and back. Once in Muncie around our four cousins, Judy would ignore me and talk “girl” things with them. Judy was very close in age to the next cousin, Marilyn. Marilyn is the younger sister to Ann. She wasn’t quite as attentive to me as her older sister, but was always nice to the little boy cousin. She was an excellent skater as were all the girls, but in my immature mind, she seemed the best. I especially remember Marilyn and my sister Judy going “boy-crazy” at the same time. They also went “man-crazy” over the hockey players who swooped in from Canada like a flock of geese each winter. They flirted with the players, collected autographed photos and screamed their lungs out cheering for them at the games – and then swooned over them the rest of the day. The next in line is my cousin Rosalie. She is the younger sister of Sandy, the princess. Rosalie is more like the joker or the jester than a princess. I guess if I had a favorite it might be Rosalie. We were the closest in age and that alone promoted a bit of cameraderie. Memories from my early years involving Rosalie

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usually involve getting into trouble, playing tricks on people, doing stupid things or just cracking up laughing. Rosalie and Sandy started their lives in a real log cabin hand built by their dad. This cabin was built on Mock Avenue in Muncie, just a few houses away from the skating arena and the ice plant. It still stands today as Rosalie’s home. When visiting her log cabin, the memories of my days as the “little boy cousin” come flooding back. As the older members of our families grow feeble and pass away, we realize that we are now the “old folks”. None of us will admit to that. We are still the “Gibson Cousin Kids”. Our parents have simply passed away. At a memorial service a few years ago, we once again lined up as we were in the old photo.Not much has changed. I still look like I have to go to the bathroom.

As we finished school, married, grew older, had children, moved around the country and the world, we remained friends and in touch. FaceBook helps a lot. As we have finished our careers and changed roles in the family, reminiscing becomes more fun as we discover old photos, movies and post cards. The Roller skating arena in Muncie and another in New Castle continue to be operated by descendants of the Gibson cousins and become a place for family get-togethers. World War II was bad for the world; but as in all things bad, good can eventually prevail. The Gibson cousins were born in the time of world strife, but we, like so many Americans made the best of our circumstances.

The Gibson Cousins. Larry Gibson

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Harvest Light. Larry Gibson

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The Wife and the Mistress. Anna Y Mouse

Beautiful and gentleBoring and coldGritty, grungy, gravelly and gross, at timesCalming yet provocative. Never boring – ever boringThe hunt continues but never is fulfilledYears go by and nothing changes; seconds reveal magnificent pleasuresObjects are discovered that were not known to even existI feel guilty for never changing; I feel guilty for changingShe loves me – she also loves me – or is it simply a mirror?My dedication is unlimited and yet it can be multipliedMy pleasure cannot bear increasing yet I desire much moreWhen will it come to fruition?What will I gain?What will I lose?Must there always be winners and losers?The aroma is comforting, congenial, and cordialThe air is full of strange smells. Ammonia, dirty clothing, paint, stale smokeBoth are needed, but can they co-exist?Basking in the warmth and bright lightHiding in the shadows looking over my shoulderMan cannot have all that he desires. Must he desire less?Or work for more?Is there a goal, a target, or only the continuing churning cavitation of useless effort?These hands must stay soft and warm yet they ingest filth from the activitiesNo one will notice – everyone will noticeWhy do I fear the ultimate pleasure?Can I have it all or is having it all another way of saying there is nothing to live for?

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Being 20. Avery Pittman

Being twenty means a plethora of things.College, jobs, relationships.

It is not all what it is cracked up to be.People rely on others more than ever.But what is it really like to be twenty?

Difficult, but fun at the same time. This is the time to actually live.

Even though others make it seem like life should be all together.Paying for everything.

But having the best time.Finding new things to make twenty year olds laugh.

New adventures are a favorite.Meeting new people is also an electrifying experience.

Leaving lifelong friends.But meeting new ones, and they change everything.

New friends mean more now than ever before.They do not have their life together either.

It makes one feel better knowing they are not alone.Working all the time because that is what people expect.

If it even means working forty hours on top of school.Parents just expect their kids to do it all.

On top of working all the time comes school.Right after high school it is expected of teenagers to go to college.

Pile on the credit hours.Homework for hours.

This leaves no time for friends which makes it difficult.This is what makes a twenty year old want to cry.

Being able to have a few days off is heaven.Rarely does this happen though.

Being able to enjoy the time given should not be difficult to achieve.Almost does not add up.

When all the work and stress catches up sickness sinks in.Getting a severe cold is a given.

With the only helping hand, the immune system down.There is almost no hope.

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Home is where the Heart is. Skylar Fox

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As My Wings Decay. Skylar Fox

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Motherhood, Love, and Total Chaos. Rachael Schultz

You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. Motherhood is both the most amazing and frustrating experience in the entire universe. There’s nothing else like it. One minute I’m in love and my heart’s melting, and the next I’m fighting tooth and nail to make sure the kids are in bed by 8:30 p.m. I saw a show on television the other night and it was about this perfect family. They had all of these rules in place and each member of the family played a certain role in the home as to make things run more smoothly. The mother in this particular show was in the kitchen with her apron on, baking a pie, had dinner made by 5:30, and all the kids were playing quietly in their clean rooms, waiting on their father to get home from work. I am not one of those mothers.

I’m going to start off by saying that I’m a pretty mellow individual. I’m honest, loving, and I work as hard as anyone person can to raise my kids to be the best possible person that they can be as well. That’s my number one priority in life. I love my kids. So why do I feel like I’m having a mental break down seventy percent of the time? I’m a twenty-eight year old single mother of three and a full time student with a part time job. The key word here is single. That means I do it all alone. I know I shouldn’t be complaining because I’m sure there are several women in this world that have it much harder than I do, but all in all life is still tough. I saw a post on Facebook the other day that read, “Children are the only people that can bring you to the brink of insanity, and you will still love them tomorrow.” This statement pretty much sums up my day to day life.

There are not enough hours in a day for perfection, or smoothness. There is no mister helping this sister, because I am a single mother, and my day consists of racing the clock, bickering kids, and complete and total chaos most of the time. Those words make my life seem awful, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Aside from the way I describe my life, I’m very much in love with my children and I wouldn’t change a single aspect of it. Everything I have done that is good or bad in this world has lead me to this point in my life. So what about my everyday makes it chaotic? It all boils down to, “time.” Time is our worst enemy. Before I get ahead of myself, allow me to introduce my three little rug rats. Kevin is the eldest at twelve years old. Apparently this age is referred to as a pre-teen. The term alone scares the hell out of me. The words, “I’m Not ready” have never been more understated. His already changing body screams testosterone. His love and dedication to his athletics is refreshing, I am and always will be his number one fan and cheerleader. He is my prince and I love him to pieces. I choose to believe that he’s a momma’s boy and always will be, but that’s just me. His most favorite past time is annoying the blazes out of his sisters, and boy do the love to reciprocate. My middle child is a beautiful little ten year old girl named Brooklyn. Everything about her beauty is rich and astounding. She is a quiet little book worm, and very smart and wise beyond her years.

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I usually have to pry the books from her hands at bedtime. She’s what I call a closet baby, because behind closed doors, she will cuddle with me all night, but if I try to hug and kiss her in front of her friends, then she’s way to cool for me. She teaches me something new every day and she always keeps me on my toes. She is so precious and her inner beauty matches her outer. She also likes to torment her baby sister Natalie. Natalie is my youngest and she’s the baby of the family at just seven years old, she is hell on wheels at times, but she’s also the cutest little princess there ever was. Her hair is my most favorite thing to play with. She has the most beautiful hair I have ever seen. Her favorite activity to do every day is to beg her sister to play with her. I’m not sure if it’s her most favorite, but it is definitely what she does the most. She also loves her Barbie’s’. They are everywhere! Unlike Kevin and Brooklyn, Natalie will cuddle with me anytime I want to. She is my comfort buddy, and I’ll hold onto her for as long as she’ll let me, because she is my last. Now about our worst enemy, “Time”. We live on a very strict schedule. One that makes it really difficult to add or even remove an event without hurting our routine. Our mornings start at 6:00 AM. This doesn’t seem very early, but when you’re waking up with three little Rugrats it feels like I’m waking up at 3:00 in the morning. Once I finally get them out of bed, and their clothes ready, they take their sweet time putting them on. They are always trying to do something while they’re getting dressed like playing a video game, getting on the tablet or even watching TV when they should be getting ready for school. They know this makes my job harder but do they care? The answer is absolutely not. They don’t have a worry in the world. Which is how it’s supposed to be. They should be kids for as long as possible. There’s plenty of time for worries later on in life. After they eat their breakfast and put their shoes on, they wait for the bus. While waiting on the front porch they argue over simple things like their clothes or who’s going to sit up front after school today, and how each other’s hair looks. I believe they will argue over just about anything to get on my nerves and one another’s. Then when the bus finally arrives, they scramble out the door racing each other to the steps of the big yellow twinkle on wheels. As I wave goodbye in the window I blow sweet kisses until the bus is no longer insight. Then I sprint up the stairs and jump back in my bed with the biggest smile on my face, because I know that I’m about to experience the last little bit of peace and quiet for the day. That usually last for about twenty minutes, and then reality sets in again. I have to get up and get ready for work or class. Some days it’s work some days it’s class and some days it’s both. After I get ready, I pick up the house and clean whatever mess everybody has made that morning. Then if I’m lucky I might have time to stop and make myself breakfast before I walk out the door. I love being at school and at work. It gives me a sense of pride and control over my life. The self-worth alone makes it all worth it. After work or school I rush home to get Natalie from the sitter and Kevin and Brooklyn from their Dads. This usually takes place around 4:30 PM, and then were off to either Brooklyn’s soccer practice, Kevin’s football practice, or one of Natalie’s events. This doesn’t put us home until 6:00 PM. Then I take them home, and we do their homework. Quite often this is a very nail biting and frustrating process, because heaven forbid they just get it out and do it without whining. While helping them with their homework I start on dinner. Kevin, Brooklyn and Natalie usually come up to me about one hundred times to ask me a question or to tattle on one another. At the same time I also have both girls coming up to me wanting to help me with dinner, which is usually really nice, because I love cooking with them. So that’s actually a very sweet part of my day. I love having that time with them to make memories that I know that they will take with them when they grow older. Dinner is usually done and on the table by 6:45 PM. We always sit at the table to eat, and never in any other room of the house. I’m a firm believer that kids and their parents should set at the table and eat together so they can talk. Also because anywhere else in the house would be unacceptable due to the mess they would make. As you can see by now that would cut into our, “time.” After cleaning up the dinner mess, and doing the dishes, I get the kids ready for their showers. Then after brushing the girls his hair, which is like the equivalent to giving a cat a bath, I rally them up to brush their teeth, and then put them in to bed. Now were at about 8:30 PM and this ios where it gets tricky. At this time I should be able to hug and kiss the three of them good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, and then go on about my business to start on my homework. There’s just no way that’s happening, because Brooklyn and Natalie share a room, and cannot stop talking or arguing at night. Sisters can be cruel. So while trying to do my homework I’m constantly having to get up and go upstairs to stop them from talking

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or screaming at the top of the Lungs, and they have a good set of lungs. Sometimes I have to go lay down in my bed upstairs in my room, and pretend to be asleep just so they will go to sleep as well without talking. A lot of the time this puts me at 10 PM. and I’m just starting my homework. I would have eight hours of sleep if I fell asleep right then, before waking up refreshed in the morning. But because I’m just now starting my homework I will probably get to sleep around midnight or 1:00 AM. and only get a max of five hours of sleep. Then our schedule starts all over again the next sunrise. The point of this is not to belittle my life or to cast a shadow on motherhood, but to make you see that every family has their ups and downs, but at the end of the day when everything is all said and done, and the house is quiet, I reflect back on my day and I am at peace. I love them more than words could ever describe on paper. The love I have for my children is not something that can be spoken or described. It’s a feeling of contentment, passion and an everlasting string of bitter sweet sentiments. I wouldn’t give my life up for the world, because I know without them I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be where I am today or the person I have become, because even though I created them, they have made me. Life is supposed to be hard, because without that bad how could we ever appreciate the good. Without the arguing how could we ever feel the appreciation of friendship or relish in the affections towards one another? So in conclusion, when I tell them I love them I don’t say it out of habit to make a conversation, I say it to remind them that they’re the best thing that ever happened to me. They can rest assured that no matter what happens in this world, thier mommy will always have their back.

Bubble bath. Jessica Tuterow

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