Canvas Teen Literary Journal, Spring 2013

CANVASCANVAS Writers & Books’ teen literary journal SPRING 2013 All articles originally published in CANVAS Teen Literary Journal. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilm, recording, or by any information storage retrieval system, or used in another book, without written permission from the publisher. Copyright © 2013 by CANVAS Teen Literary Journal Cover art and design by Taylor Stevens . ..................................................................................................................................................................................................................... PIERCE .................. 39 "TRAVEL DIARY" BY EMILY ATTERBURY BURNS ............ 33 "THE LETTER" BY KAYLI ZELUFF ................................................................................ 13 "WALKING THROUGH THE 7-ELEVEN" BY MIRANDA KONAR ................................................................................................... 42 "DEAR FRIEND" BY JAYMEE PRIDE .............. 40 "DEATH IN AN ITALIAN RESTAURANT" BY EMILY ATTERBURY BURNS ........... YOU LOSE IT" BY DOMINIQUE K.......................... 35 "NANTUCKET" BY MADDY FELDMAN ........................... 32 "FIRST HEARTBREAK" BY ABBY RICE............................................................................................................................................................................................................... 27 "THE PERFECT MOMENT" BY CHEYENNE ZAREMBA .. 19 "IF YOU KEEP SOMETHING................................................................ 30 "FIRST LOVE" BY ABBY RICE................................................................... 11 "MICHAEL AND RUTH" BY MADDY FELDMAN ...................................... 15 "PIECES OF ALEXANDRA: EMPRESS OF ALL THE RUSSIAS 1872-1918" BY BEN ZUEGEL ......................................................................................................... 48 ................. 38 "TOO DA LOO" BY TELLĒ GABRIELE SEABORN ............................................... 37 "ASTRAY" BY MARIE HERMAN ............................................................................. 9 "NOT SINCE '78 HAVE WE SEEN YOUR KIND" BY EMILY ATTERBURY BURNS ....................................................................................................................................................................... PLEASE"BY JULIE OTCHYCH .................................................................................................................................................. 44 "NOSEBLEED" BY ABBY RICE ................................."I AM FROM" BY ALEAH ADAMS ....................................... 17 "ANOTHER BEER............................ ................................................................................................................................................................................................... 75 ABOUT OUR SPONSORS ...... 52 "HOPE OF THE STARS" BY PETER WOOD .."ON NAMING WINTER STORMS" BY EMILY ATTERBURY BURNS .................................................................................................................... PIERCE ............................................................................................................................................................................ 71 "I AM ONLY HALF" BY BROOKE ASHTON PARRY .......................................... 64 "COMING HOME" BY NELLY GREEN ................................ 73 "UNTITLED" BY MCKENNA UZELAC ................... 76 ................................................................................................................. 55 "HEAT WAVE EMINENT" BY BEN ZUEGEL ...... 65 "THE WAR GAME" BY DOMINIQUE K....................................................................................................................... 62 "MIDNIGHT WIND" BY ERIKA BARTLETT .............................................................................................. 50 "HUGINN AND MUNINN" BY ELEANOR VAUGHAN ..................................... com Teen Editorial Board Ana Anaya. Webmaster Taylor Stevens.About Canvas Canvas is run by and for teens. Editor Writers & Books Staff Kristen Zory King Sally Bittner Bonn Caitlin Vanderwater Managing Editor Nina Alvarez . Editor Amelia Willard. We publish quarterly and are open to writers 13-18 years old in Rochester. Editor Abigail Johnson. Editor and Social Media Delaney Palma. eBook and Social Media Ali Wrona. Editor and Social Media Peter Wood. NY and beyond. Editor and Art Director Julia Taylor. Visit us online at: http://canvasliteraryjournal. Editor Tori Wilson. Taylor and I worked to give our readers an experience. fiction.Foreword The sunny day was slowly turning back to the regular Rochester weather with a grey sky and a bit of wind. We hope that you will enjoy the eBook and experience the amazing work of these teen authors. Happy Reading. Member of the Teen Editorial Board . In our wonderfully designed website. Canvas Literary Journal is a voice for the teen authors of Rochester. Going into it. I didn’t have a place where I could talk about and show my writing to people who actually cared. Before Writers and Books. We “curated” the work. and poetry together so there are relationships among the pieces. We were amazed how the pieces all seemed to find their perfect places. Canvas Literary Journal. I would be meeting with Nina and Taylor to work on an eBook for our online magazine. mixing the flash fiction. Now Canvas has created a place for teen writers to get published and share their work with Rochester. It’s a place where their talent can be shown. We all agreed that this eBook would offer something different than our online magazine. I had no idea what to expect or how to create an eBook. our pieces are organized in different categories then put in alphabetical order. In the eBook. Tori Wilson. I Am From Aleah Adams I am from Sicily From Sanford And from Newark I am from the same house On the same street In the same city I am from the fish tank of Lilac Festival memories From blooming hydrangeas And from the greenest grass on the street I am from the pastel curtains Vivid artwork And from swiffered floors I’m from chocolate chip cookies and spaghetti From argumentative discussions From filled bunk-beds I’m from the don’t-tell-me-to-chills and the it’s-bed-times And the I’m-the-adults 9 . I’m from the baths in holy water From the ash on Wednesday And from the Sunday morning struggles I am from accordions Old-fashioned organs From 88 black and white keys And from 6 strings I am from soulful vocal chords And gig players From the splintering wood of Jersey boardwalks To the rolling dice on the strip From the scraping blades on Manhattan square And the makeshift splash park in my backyard I am from these black and white photos That bring such color in my life And mimic the moments I cherish the most 10 . your December madness. to you. And by the time you dragged 11 . your rebel. Cradled you in its drifts. Cried into your hair Kept long for the season. And still When the months melted. The kisses of its fall still stinging your forehead. it disappeared As turgid smoke slips off receding waves. Your lake-effect drifts dried up To make way for the temporary crocuses Of purple bruises and yellow sickness. Your false start.Not Since '78 Have We Seen Your Kind Emily Atterbury Burns These are the things I know about the snow: That it conquered you once. So it would need you. It was. Another love for freezing fingers And diamond-crusted boots. somewhere else in the world. It had slunk around the corner.The Christmas tree out for the birds. 12 . tossed Carelessly before the fire. Lost. light poking through the joints in our walls.Michael and Ruth Maddy Feldman They meet when the backs of their hands brush together and they both start. Or. white against the green fabric he is tugging. too. She would like to say. The air is too still. Those working in a glove factory often forget that hands may go uncovered. a sign that one has grown up too quickly. Do you ever dream about the smell of freshly sharpened pencils? Or. My parents. the scratching of a rat or two rats or our 13 . Michael’s hand is sacrilegiously bare. that skin may be bare. I can see us in our squeezed-fist apartment in the Bronx. Ruth is staring at the skin around his knuckles: stretched too tight. The house is so empty now. But Ruth’s words are caught in the whirring of her machine and the shirring of olive fabric. They are tossed into the pile of discarded buttons below. singing some song. the song is Somebody Loves Me and you are a sweet. salt-taffy baritone. how smooth her skin was as it brushed against his. 14 . sticking to my hands even after I have rubbed them clean. Michael picks one up to fasten the pair he is working on but his stitches are too large: he is thinking about the bare hands of the girl to his left.fingernails clicking against the counter as we cook the fish. singing Gershwin. I can see us cradled in the palm of the evening. how the spaces in between her fingers mirror his calloused hand exactly. of course. and. 15 . those hot-and-cold band-aids that blush across their backs like Mary’s and Jane’s cheeks when the mail man waves."Walking Through the 7-Eleven" Miranda Konar Walking through the 7-Eleven. the six-pack of Diet Dr. only a little less seamlessly and with a few more wrinkles. which they used to share every night with their lumpy couch and Peter Jennings. Pepper. Mary and Jane move like that strange Indian god with all the arms. Crest toothpaste. because who is Jane without Mary? And also. which is the same way her hair curls. keeping tallies in their heads. Mary and Jane. and I don’t like Crest. and thinks I could have done so many things. laughing like the flickering light in the 7-Eleven. I don’t have to get in that car.Peter Jennings who looked Mary and Jane square in the eye and sent shivers down their blushing backs. tallies that differed slightly each Time moves slower now. Pepper and for whose attention they competed. and she hates Mary’s fingernails clacking on the counter. who is Jane? 16 . I could do so many things. And she hates the way Mary’s hair curls. to whom they raised Diet Dr. and Jane watches Mary warily. I don’t have to get in that car. But she gets in the car. the green sweat shirt crumpled against her back. and she thinks. chipped glass perfume bottles that which contain A whiff of violets. Scattered across the world though. Abusive and distorted memories eagerly snatch up Whatever they can tear from her remains. Her flesh and bones have been worn away by history. Old.Pieces of Alexandra: Empress of all the Russias 1872-1918 Ben Zuegel A woman lies unburied in a pit. Letters received a century ago. That haven’t faded and still bear her flowery words. The bandages she wrapped around the stumps of amputated arms Of the soldiers back from the front line Whisper the last rites into the ears of the dying. Only a fragment of the person she was. 17 . Her eyes now made of chipped glass that smells of violets. Bones of a worn cradle and a heart of bloody bandages. With its lavender walls. Assemble these pieces of the woman. you can see her as she was. As he screamed in pain at the body that rebelled against him. lavender curtains. A portrait of her grandmother making up her back. but tainted with her unanswered prayers. And bury her as she is.A Victorian style portrait of her grandmother. Splendid. Arms of paper with words running along their lengths. In the boudoir that she sought sanctuary in. With a new body of old pieces. 18 . Surrounded by walls of icons. And as they come together they flow into her. and lavender couches. The cradle of her son that she rocked day and night. That went towards the teeming masses of people Who would one day murder her. and to the entrance. passing through the mud splattered sliding doors. You finish the last beer and slam-dunk it into the trash bin. You politely decline and they switch gears. Of course you should not waste your money. Rich boy is falling from grace. They all think that you were transferred into their company as punishment. and the last third is too drunk to register anything. You buy a round of beers for them. “You deserve it. two extra for yourself. You’re wet within seconds. 19 . You are Chief's favorite. You want to laugh at this. Save it. past the baggage claim. It’s raining heavily by the time you stumble from the bar. all the way in the back. A third of you knows that is what they wanted. You’re working hard to win this overseas project. There is one cab left. another third doesn’t care. you will need it. Please Julie Otchych Your work colleagues manage to coax you into buying another beer. water seeping through your briefcase. open the back door. double over and roll on the floor.” they tell you. you are only there to save their crumbling company. and slide in at the same time as a much too bright woman.Another Beer. You make a run for it. Deputy General Manager Cao. You are tempted to shield your eyes. she wears a polka dot blouse and red jeans. 20 . You know the difference because your ex-girlfriend used to buy the good brand. Underneath her big jacket.” She extends her pink nailed hand out to you. but this cab is claimed. “I’m staying there as well! My name is Lola Simons. She tells the driver to go and after looking back at you wearily.“I got here first. you feel guilty. you’re quite nice. “Madison Hotel.” There’s a little knife digging into your chest. You are about to question her.” “Where is this meeting?” Her voice is a little deeper than you expect. inspecting the paper carefully for any signs of damage.different. She’s taking off her yellow raincoat. combing her fingers through her dyed red hair. Miss. You want to tell her to get out.. You don’t want to offend her. In the business world. that you don’t have time for this. but she explains before the words even form in your mind. but you answer her question.” you say as you spread the contents of your briefcase in front of you.. Too bright. On the inside. You just want to go to your room and get some rest. For the first time. but not bad. You kind of like it. “I am going to be late for an important meeting. a sweet smile spreading her lips thin. “Perfect!” She beams at you. There’s no meeting. The woman hasn’t left. “Excuse me. you tell yourself. You’ll have to get another one.” you kindly remind her. You make a mental note not to use anything your co-workers give you. Just. Businessmen don’t feel this way. No one ever sees it though. It’s the cheap kind of the dye that you buy from a generic salon. he does. your voice softer than anyone has ever heard it. there is no room for nice. No. Waterproof this time. “Ts’ao Shun Lao. “Where are you from. don’t even look at her when you introduce yourself. your business even more so. slowly this time. She’s facing you now.. right. “Mr. Your personal life is private. hope that the hotel is around the corner. her blazing pink heels tapping to a song only she could hear. You sit back in your seat. of course business! You have a meeting to go to.” Her tongue crushes your name. give it a light shake.” “Zow. Cao! I bet you’ve traveled the world! What brings you to this small town?” You’re about to answer her with something generic. but she cuts you off. folds her piano hands in her lap. She repeats it and you cringe. Lao!” “Cao. Mr. shift your weight. Mr. Cao?” “Hong Kong. My last name is Cao. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Can you tell me what that meeting is 21 . Cao?” You hesitate... you take her hand. glance out the window every few seconds. It’s an ugly sound that leaves her mouth. “Zhow Shoon Law. one leg propped up on the seat. “Baosteel’s Deputy General Manager. She shuffles.Cautiously.” She stares at you. You’re glad that she’s not wearing a skirt. confusion clouding her eyes. Raised in Shanghai. “Business! Oh.” She glances over at you with dreamy eyes. “Cao Xu Lao.. the kind fans get when gazing upon celebrities. You don’t want her to slaughter your name any more than she already has.” You don’t give too many details. Cao. smashes it against the roof of her mouth.Shoun Low. “What do you do.” Irritation is tugging the corners of your mouth into a hard frown.” You tell her again. Are you afraid of hurting her? You stack your papers back into your briefcase. “You must be really important Mr. Lola lingers.about? No! Of course you can’t! Of course! Silly me. The rain has died down and you are out of the taxi in seconds. Your feet are planted firmly on the sidewalk. 22 . heading for the last taxi. leaves it on the trunk of the taxi. Cao? Any kids?” “No kids. She pulls something out of her purse.” you repeat as you follow Lola into the hotel. You watch the rain drip lazily out the window. You’ve been in much worse. no wife. Your work colleagues manage to coax you into buying another beer. You rub your eyes. Your mind wanders. asking these questions. It takes a few minutes for you to stumble from the bar and out the sliding doors. trapped in a foggy past. Madison Hotel isn’t so bad. no wife. A year later.” She’s closer now. Your Seiko watch ticks in a steady beat in tune with your heart. and shuffle down the walk. taking her time bundling up again. It’s not hers. or maybe you just can’t be bothered to take the energy to deny them. 4th floor. you fall for the same trick. tighten your grip around the leather handle of your new briefcase. That is only a hallucination. and walks inside without a word. even with it’s pink brick and tattered red carpet. examine it.” you tell her as the driver parks in front of the hotel. A beat up Volkswagen honks its horn and you’re almost certain that you ran out into the street and were about to get run over. The yellow line of taxis start to disappear into the rain. “No kids. “Are you married. follow a drop race down the glass. It’s a business card. but something is written on the back. You pick it up. knee pressed your briefcase. Mr. Simmons?” “Perfect. You lower yourself into the seat farthest from her. “Madison Hotel. a charming smile tugging at your lips. she is good at hiding it. Zhao. you are strangers in one way and in another. Ms. you thought as you push your chopped short hair out of your eyes. warm and inviting. Your work colleagues manage to coax you into buying another beer. “It’s been a while. You don’t know what to say to her.” she tells the cab driver without consulting you. tell too many lies. Maybe this was all an act and she actually felt as awkward as you did. You could never be a woman. She props her legs up on the seat. “And you. Perfect. Lola Simmons in her bright yellow raincoat and polka dot shirts. 23 . They hold too many secrets. Cao. Yes.There’s someone waiting for you. She was a stranger you wouldn’t mind getting to know. If so. Mr. drum your fingers on the top of your briefcase. Mr.” you answer. Simmons. the heels of her pink stilettos pressing lightly against your thigh. Ms. you know each other very well. sitting in that spot for a year. “Work is fine. You cross your ankle across your knee and fix your eyes on her. She smiles as if she’s been waiting for you this whole time. How’s work?” You are surprised at how calm and relaxed she is. You never thought you’d see her again. like nothing ever happened between the two of you. matching her tone. She smiles again.” You almost laugh at the formal conversation going on between you. Your parents moved to Shanghai when you were three. “You’re missing out. How she was scared of going down the stairs after seeing her clumsy pug take a tumble. She has to break them apart at least twice a day. Don’t you?” You never really think about stars and you can’t remember the last time you saw one. He’s an old friend of her father’s. He brings her apples everyday and. Jack gets into many scuffles with Ralph. You’re afraid of boring her. They wanted you to become a businessman. Star gazing enlightens the soul. quieter. Cao. Her favorite is a dwarf of a boy named Jack. 24 . worry clouds your mind. When she questions your past.” Sometimes the taxi driver chimes in. so you studied. You tell her this and she lifts an eyebrow. What are you supposed to say? You were born in Hong Kong twenty-nine years ago. You learn that she’s from a small country out west where you can cradle the biggest city in your palms. a meaty five year old with fists the size of three meatballs.Lola tells you that she works with little children at a daycare. There’s not much to do out there. more peaceful. tries to keep everyone in check. They wanted you to make something of yourself. “It’s different from here. but she liked it anyways. Sometimes I’d like to be able to look up and wish on a star. You are nowhere near as interesting as her. He tells you how she used to eat all the strawberry chunks in her yogurt before devouring the rest. How she’d trick her mother into thinking that she was practicing piano by tucking a small book between the music sheets. so you did. although he’s the smallest. Your versions of Jack and Ralph are two older men that steal each other’s lunch at the office. but soon you’re too far-gone to 25 . “Ms. you think. bought as Tiffany & Co’s earlier this morning. She loves her husband. There’s nothing going through your mind. She just wants a one-day escape where she’s treated right. You know you should feel something. teeth grinding. They ask questions. but you don’t. You want to marry her. Has it always been there? She notices you staring and the smile disappears. You slam the door shut and bang your fist on the top of the taxi. You sit down in a stool and order a beer. She didn’t think this was serious. You button your suit coat and brush dust from your pants before heading back. but you’ve been drunk every time you saw her.She gives your knee a reassuring pat. She can’t leave Charlie. You stand at the side of the road even after the taxi is barely a speck in the distance. trimmed nails digging into the worn leather of your briefcase. You haven’t gone far from the airport. They have two kids. There’s a ring in your pocket. catching the flashing lights of the street lamps passing by quickly. You aren’t moving too fast. but he abuses her. telling it to go. She interests you in a way you never thought possible. Simmons. Jack and Ralph. She tries to explain as you order the driver to pull over. are you? It’s been six years. Your jaw snaps shut. Your co-workers are still at the bar. “What’s Shanghai like?” Your work colleagues manage to coax you into buying another beer. I--” You notice the wedding band on her finger. but it will do. You’ve learned not to be so picky. Not that you would if you were sober. But you don’t. You know you’re supposed to feel something. A semi-friend of yours has to carry you to bed. She’s sitting in the taxi. 26 . There is a hotel across the street.say anything. Your flight back home is in a few hours. Your work colleagues manage to coax you into buying another beer. Not as nice as Madison. You have one of the employees pick you up from the airport and drive you over to the meeting. If You Keep Something. anytime you need me but she always hangs up after the second ring so who knows? Childhood slips between her fingers shattering on impact. She’s never had a best friend because best friends have no secrets 27 . You Lose It Dominique K. It’ll never quite be the same. painful because she never learned to fall right with her chin tucked against her neck. they ask but they mean listen. Pierce Can we talk. the pieces victim to the vacuum cleaner and the spaces under the carpet nobody talks about. the television blaring in the background to fill up the sound between confessions and her dad can’t look at her as he says. you were always my second choice. the only common factor is their absences. She cares too deeply about people from the privacy of her undiscovered islands and is always disappointed until she realizes that nobody is going to find her. Sorry. she would say: 28 . The door is unlocked but never opens and when she feels lonely. Maybe. She keeps the knife in her back though.and she’s bottled herself up tightly so that hers don’t leak. awkward silences full of rambling sentences. She tries to fall in love but tries too hard and falls instead. run-ons and prepositions without nouns or verbs or reasons. she thinks and pulls the band aid off quick. if the phone was picked up on the second ring. like the broken faucet in the empty bathroom where she lingers to avoid the growing list of people who don’t meet her eyes. afraid of bleeding out. he says but means. He leaves her in a kitchen with a dishwasher half full or maybe half empty. Called it. and it’s not that you left.There’s one thing I can’t forgive you for. 29 . but that you said you would stay. remind you that there are other people here. 30 . everything is quiet. You’ll push back into the cushion of the sofa. And to you. with pencils rolling lazily under the sofa to test the length of your arms when you look for them later. are oblivious to your existence at this moment. It sounds like a thunderstorm in the middle of a nursery rhyme. stretching your body all the way from your nose to your little toe and then retract into a ball of eased tensions.The Perfect Moment Cheyenne Zaremba Sitting on the sofa in the house. the homework will get discarded from the center of attention and sent to the floor. Only the occasional rustling of papers or the whispered ‘Yes!’ as someone wins a level on a video game. At this moment. It’s easy to forget that there are people on other floors going about their business. it seems like a waste to let such a rare moment go to your physics homework. There are more important places to visit. The house is so quiet. it’s so still that it is easy to forget one is not alone in the house. Thus. and the papers are so loud as they flutter to the ground. And the house is still quiet. There are much better things to be done when the house is quiet. Perhaps they too. You’ll continue on with what is left of the day before the exhaustion of darkness falls. And it will continue to be this way. there would be no ‘perfect moments’. With its silence. 31 . Everything you need to finish is done. any place. and the pencil under the couch dares you to try and reach it. you are a master of everything. just monotony. and everything you want to start is begun. and a new moment has begun. all tongues are yours to bend and break. all subjects. All trades. Your eyes to the world close and your eyes to the world of your mind are flung open.That’s when everything will begin. And then a door opens. No corner of the globe is beyond the reach of your fingers and no realm of fantasy beyond your thoughts. and the reality of your circumstance returns to you. someone returning from school. dinner will be cooked. But one thing is certain. You can visit any moment. for without the imperfect moments. homework will be finished and perhaps television watched. You can be everywhere and nowhere all at once. reminding you with every tick that the next day is getting closer and that time is passing. Conversation will begin. You’ll slowly sit up and let the depths of creativity fade away. Someone home from work. someone back from the store. One perfect moment has ended. There. any person. the house has given you consent to frolic in the deepest realms of imagination. The physics homework on the floor calls for the spotlight once more. The clock counts out the seconds. the silence is over. She'll wear a pink dress to school. How will you ever be able to say no? And what of the children of our children? Will we serve them lemonade on our patio? Will we watch them as we grow grey. And hug them with our crinkled skin? The life of the life we created. They'll be teased with that middle name. We'll think back to this time when we were young.First Love Abby Rice What should we name our first kitten? Paint on the walls of our kitchen? Where will we keep the key to our door? Can you think of any names for our children? Wait be careful with those initials. When we're fading out of this world. With little ribbons in her hair. All born out of love. By loving and being loved. And we'll know we did something right. 32 . Years ahead seem longer. but that light was put out. One chance and it's gone. Once it was lit by blind light. now. Hours and days seem too.First Heartbreak Abby Rice Why do you look so sad? I've lost that what is seldom found. 33 . Everything comes to an end. to count shadows left on my face. I can only blame myself. Everything you're taught is false. Light no longer shines through my window. A grave face it is. there's no other explanation. All gone within a few seconds. What was built over years. I'm left in dust. I've learned. that sucks. goodbye. 34 .Turned off with a simple. Oh. The Letter Kayli Zeluff Like the sticky stuff on the back of a stamp. I had to put a seal on the past On what happened with you And to what happened to the family Like a glass dropped The world shattered On the cold tile Of the kitchen floor Time slowed its pace And made me live the hurt Of you not living To your promise It was like an infant Unable to understand The simplest Parts of the life cycle 35 . I wrote the words But didn’t understand The meaning Of what I was writing I signed my name At the end And debated on Whether or nit To put it in an envelope 36 . Your heart is the perfect size to hold the island and for years. it stays there. From here. what a whale call would look like: long and deep and gray and wistful. lie on the beach and let the salt air seep into your bones. At night. You and your mother and your grandmother ride along the curved spine of the earth. You lie on the house’s tiled floors and let your bare feet learn the patterns of the stones. quietly letting the waves sand it down to frosted glass.Nantucket Maddy Feldman You can see the Atlantic Ocean from the smallest window in the bedroom. The world lets in more light here. You buy a rose-colored sweatshirt and rent a bicycle. watching as it turns under your feet. 37 . you and the house listen to the sea air whisper its secrets to the moon. reminding you often that the world is good. it looks like an echo or a whale call. The sun rolls over in the sky and kisses your shoulder blades. The curve of the earth grays and sways with cat-tails. yet now it aches more than ever. I want to believe again. Nature was at its best around me. I am here. I used to think that my heart willed for this place. now with all the cars and buildings I'm feeling kind of sorry. Lake breezes carry me away. I miss your comforting sounds and smells.Astray Marie Herman Lake breezes carry me away. I want to see again. Lake breezes carry me away. 38 . I want to breathe again. my feelings of this place led me astray. Too da Loo Tellē Gabriele Seaborn Too da loo Do ya miss me? Here is a hug You can kiss me Talk to me How was your day? Accomplish something Yell “Hooray” Hold my hand Spend some time Smell the Roses All the time Jump in the lake Cold splash drops Watch the wind And bunny hops Taste the sun Smell the moon Hold the stars Fly ‘til noon Too da loo Don’t want to miss you One more hug Don’t let go 39 . Philosophers argue heatedly Enough to melt the photo-safe glue And they compose strongly worded Inscriptions on tablets To practice their cuneiform. so the least 40 . even though It’s only feldspar And the gold market’s bottom has fallen through. Grandmothers wince from arthritis To knit sweaters for errant Sons and daughters. The ruins pass a conclusive sigh In between the entasis of the columns And cotton-swathed children Pick up rubble for their collection Of exotic minerals. shining White and overexposed.Travel Diary Emily Atterbury Burns The four elements of the ancients Are squeezed into the orifice Of a photograph’s frame. 41 . A heroic grip tattooed by humidity.You could do is wear the red wool Like a tricolored flag and Blink the heat mirages of the oil-soaked Mediterranean from your eyes Crusted over with jetlag as You contemplate red ware amphoras And Americanized menus Covered in thin plastic With an olive handprint left Shining in vestiges of sweat. indeed. 42 . How awful to watch their pride dissolve into public tears that pool like oil atop the penne vodka delivered by the waitress too polite to ask but. “How is everything tonight?” How terrible.Death in an Italian Restaurant Emily Atterbury Burns But think: how awful it must be to be the 6:40 reservation sliding into the dimly-lit booth at the precise moment the table behind you draws their napkins into sweaty strings because the funeral will be this Saturday. wasted by grief.to have your night ruined by the dour faces that let the bread turn cold in its basket. 43 . It was locked. I still haven’t gotten an answer. I grabbed a knife. The first 44 . tiled floor. Where are you?” My voice bounced off every white wall in the apartment. frantically pushing every door open. “Hey. I went down the hallway. “Are you in the bathroom?” I asked. “Come on! Open the door!” I heard a bottle of pills fall onto the cold. “Hey. but slammed it back down. I pulled and pulled. it wouldn’t open. I picked them up and rushed back to the still locked door. I’m here. I pulled apart the scissors and latched them to a hinge. It started like this. are you in here? Open the door. I put my bag down and kicked the shoes from my heels. My eyes flickered to a pair of shears by a flower vase.Dear Friend Jaymee Pride Dear Friend. When I reached the bathroom door. I couldn’t slice trough it.” No reply. I ran out to the kitchen to look for something to pry the door open with. It was you and I. I was almost there. You were unconscious and lying on the floor. It fell to the hardwood floor with a clang. the walls shook.hinge pulled loose after a lot of work. I pushed the door aside. Your head was propped against the bathtub. I didn't have time for the gash in my left hand. "No!" I shouted. When it hit the floor. "Shit." I pulled the scissors from my hand with my teeth gritted. Your hand was so pale in mine. "I am almost there. It was the only thing that stood between me and you. I shook you. the blades weren't latched tight enough. We were huddled and hopeless. It didn't take long. "Wake up! Please!" I was sobbing now. in your tiny New York apartment bathroom. The blade slid and slipped its way in to the palm of my hand. I ran to get my phone and called an ambulance. which was much easier than the first. On the last hinge. I held your hand as we waited. The white tile and red blood contrasted like heaven and hell. I quickly moved onto the second. The blood that was supposed to be coursing through your veins was splattered and pooled on the floor. then you. I saw a pile of pills and a pool of blood and. but it felt like forever. I returned my focus to the final hinge. My blood mixed with yours as I grasped your 45 . You were there hanging between life and death. There was a knife in your lap." My blood streamed down the solid door as I removed the only hinge left. it doesn't sound as solid. And. I love 46 . Your brother was a match. When you are up. red and swollen. When they came and took you away from me. It has been three days. we've been through a lot. the doctors said. and we've been through it together. when my grandma passed and through my umpteen break-ups. Then. You listened to me.. maybe if I did the same for you. I got sick. You' ll get better. Instead of repairs. We could have found you help before all of this.hand. to be okay. They pumped your stomach and then going to give you a blood transfusion. Sitting in a hospital room with beeping machines and you lying in a bed that isn't your own. I threw up all over my shirt. But.. They also said that you'd be out for a bit. You look like an angel in your bleached. You could have told me. It will be better. All eyes were puffy. Your still not up yet. We'll build it better. You were there when my parents separated. you lost so much blood. stronger. private waiting area. Well. I wrote this for you because I have some things to tell you. I guess. Blood brothers. You and I. It's going to take more than glue but we can do it. they stitched me up. I talked to your mom. Who knows. maybe you may have and I just didn't listen. I just wanted you to live. You fade in and out. You have always been there for me. but our whole lives. Your whole family was there. you just stare and aren't able to carry a conversation. That's how we got here. When I got to the hospital. in a small. Here it is. God gave us each other. sisters. Not just this week. white hospital gown. we wouldn't be here. Everything went well. Before everything fell apart. we'll have to rebuild. I told her about everything. I promise. You can do this.you and don't want to loose you. God and me. because this won't be our goodbye. since forever. Your family. You have been such a big part of my life. We'll get through it. We've gone through everything together. ever. you'll get through it.I love you. I think He and your mother are the only ones who love you more than I do. . 47 . you. ” Josh waved his hand dismissively at Jonah and sank into the couch. “Later. “Alien Invasion II is way better than III. he tossed his game on his desk. Jonah bounded up the stairs to his room and all too eager to get it out of his hands. but not surprised by the lack of greeting. even though it hurt his back it still looked better than both straps. “they don't even look scary. Once Jonah crossed the threshold of his home he felt disappointed. “Whatever.” Josh flashed a backwards peace sign. Maybe the manager will take pity on me for having suffered through this shoddy excuse for a video game. An early night 48 .” Jonah said opening the door. he could see his house dimly lit across the street.Nosebleed Abby Rice “Are you kidding me?” Jonah asked while slipping one backpack strap over his shoulder. Jonah gave up and plopped his backpack on the floor with a loud thud. Dad was probably in his study. That's how it usually was. “What a mistake that was.” he picked up the game off the glass coffee table. See you tomorrow. even at this late hour. In all honesty there was something chillingly familiar about the foreign dark creatures. hopefully the store will take this back. and Mom on the phone with a client.” Jonah fibbed. You're the one who bought it. and all he could see was white. but nothing came out.sounded good so he hopped into bed. Danielle Derek? Double D Danielle is what they called her. What was he thinking about before the nosebleed had woken him up? Danielle Derek? 49 . Instead he lay still while his body parts were yanked around on their own and cool objects prodded at them. Probably just a car right? He pinched his arm just to make sure he was still awake. An earthquake in New York? But that didn't explain the noise. Whiter than any cloud or frost. A pain shot up the inside of his nose. A loud buzzing noise shook the room and Jonah's hands clenched tight. almost once a week. He tried to make a sound. Not a car. like being held between two stone slabs. but her other nickname was Dumb Danielle. Huh? Jonah sat up and stared into the dark and brought his hand to his nose. He pulled at his arms. Then with a zip it was black and he was loose. What's that light? Jonah peaked open his eyes to meet blackness. Then the room seared bright white again and Jonah pinched his eyes close tight. How she ever made it into 10th grade was beyond Jonah. She was pretty and all. The light permeated his eyelids completely now. or the white light burning through his eyelids. Jonah's body froze. His jaw pried open and he tasted metallic. He got them so often. He just needed something to think about to help him fall asleep. Blood? Darn nosebleeds. and tried to kick his legs but it was no use. On Naming Winter Storms Emily Atterbury Burns The storm scene was your favorite: You wrote those tongues rolling in their mouths. Rolling on those waves: Maybe Juno had missed her meds that morning. And not even history. Cracked the surfaces of the sea in furies. you tossed those waves. Throwing down rains in dactylic hexameter droplets. Unearthed another nymph in her bed. You wrote three lines a day And I know how hard it must be To make all those excuses for those gods. Aeneas was always a crybaby. really. Day after day. eleven years’ worth. those heroes. That you are now sweeping through the Midwest. It’s Augustus’s fault. 50 . Virgil. And bad with women too: but it’s ancient. even knowing your style. 51 .Lines that I cannot scan. far from the walls of Troy. We’re all dead. And we lost your Rome a long time ago. The problem is: it doesn’t translate anymore. that he come not back. Through Muninn and me. Forever. Every day. This is my job. Nothing escapes our perfect vision. his humans. thinking. I am content. I fly around the earth. yet more anxious am I for Muninn. If he were to wander the Earth himself. This is what I was made for. And it repeats. I deliver my thoughts to Odin. Every night. That's where we come in. he would miss out on countless stories. Odin can watch you. That's my job description. the Allfather. I fear for Huginn. translated by Benjamin Thorpe Flying. my life. Muninn and I are Odin's eyes on earth. day and night. I watch the humans.Huginn and Muninn Eleanor Vaughan "Huginn and Muninn fly each day over the spacious earth. 52 ." -Excerpt from the Grimnismal. He can be confident in us. But I don't complain. watching. I remember everything that's ever happened. every night. since the beginning of time. but Huginn is the one to voice it. We report to our master together. But where he thinks. this is also a weak spot of his. I am Huginn. He worries for us both. I remember the whole day. But don't think me useless. very large problem if we were to leave.We are precious to him. because it would be a very. What if we were to disappear? What if we left him? He'd have nothing. He worries for us. but I must remind him on what to talk about. I don't just remember the whole day. After all. Huginn and I fly together. However. When we return to Odin as the light gives way to darkness. and I am the Mind. Flying. treats us very well. remembering. I remember. he's the one who has the opinion. How could we? This is who we are. 53 . he receives our full report. watching. every day. This is why Odin fears for me more. we are his only link to Midgard. But we wouldn't do that. Huginn does most of the talking. After all. we have no thoughts of leaving. though he would try his best. if tasked to do his job as well as mine. And I wouldn't be any better.Huginn. we will remain by his side. Our loyalties are with the King of Asgard. 54 . Luckily for Odin. and that's where they will stay. this is who we are. would not be able to remember the day like me. and I am the Memory. Until the War of the Gods. I am Muninn. The cold winter winds beat against him." 55 . clutching a small child. he could see some sort of stone structure that was far enough away from most of the impact sites that it still provided some semblance of shelter. Now nearing the southwest corner of the town.Hope of the Stars Peter Wood Kest wandered the destroyed streets. Perhaps he could survive another week." the mother replied. He had eaten nothing but a few roots from some cellar for a week. one was dying of hunger and cold. hoping that somewhere he could find shelter or food. Cobblestones everywhere had been shattered disintegrated. even . There was no way that town life could return to what it was like before the stars hit. but neither was to be found. perhaps even another month. trying to seem as friendly and nonthreatening as possible. He now wandered alone. "We have no food. but you are welcome to stay here. though—I doubt any of us will. he could see a man and a woman. "I am very sorry to intrude. Only twice since the impact had he seen another living human. but even a week was doubtful. Inside. and the other had tried to assault him in a vain attempt to find something of value. "You won't last long.by the force of the falling stars. Would you be willing to suffer my presence here?" he asked them. He entered cautiously. and the city too dangerous after the impact. the falling stars had destroyed his village and the many others nearby it. I 56 . "Hello. I hid in the mountains as the stars fell. "My name is Utaro. hoping his quest would not be in vain. as far as he could see. though he clung desperately to a shard of hope that there were survivors. A few weeks .Several days later. Just before. It seemed to him as likely a place as any to contain survivors. he felt it was too far-fetched. staying instead in the small cabin he kept here for times he needed to get away and think. The rubble would be dangerous. for shortly after he arrived in the mountains he heard an ear-splitting crash. He was infinitely grateful to whatever god had given him the premonition. a bookseller. and had hiked up to his hidden cabin in the mountains to think and clear his mind.or maybe a month . destroying the houses of his friends and family. Utaro looked out from his cabin in the mountains on the destruction below. Turning to the source of the sound. he had seen blindingly bright points of light plummet from the sky. mostly intact. he had felt wrong somehow.before. all the fires had burned out. He had not been back to the town since. he spied first of all a small stone building. as Utaro descended. but he believed there would be survivors and that he could save them from further harm." he began. He peered into the ruined doorway and saw several figures inside: an emaciated family and a tall boy in slightly better condition. He grabbed a bit of food and supplies and returned to the city. Now. son of Vyataro of the North Sector. But now. for him to verify his desperate belief. "I must leave now." Utaro asked. but I cannot. in far worse condition than the house in which he had found the survivors. However. 57 .” The bandits slowly backed away. "would you mind staying here to look after them? I cannot stay for long. you only doom yourselves. face towards the ground. you won’t suffer for very long. After perhaps half an hour of walking. there may be other survivors. “If you hand over everything you’ve got now. you will be safe there. It's just too destroyed. I come bearing hope. a woman aimlessly wandered. starved. But take this. he came to another village square containing many large piles of rubble. “And then what? Who will be there to rebuild civilization? If you kill me. shoulders slumped. Utaro continued walking. yet it also seemed she had had this meaningless." replied the father of the small family. She recalled what had happened a month prior – it seemed like just a few days since the impact. Towards the eastern area of the town.” one of them shouted. lowering their swords. three men wielding crude swords jumped out at him. You are all welcome to come to the mountains with me. as soon as he stepped into the square. Nobody could live here. "My wife and I are too weak for such a journey." He turned and left the ruined shelter and continued his search for survivors. addressing the tall boy." "I would love to.see that you are all alive." He reached into his satchel and removed a bit of cheese and some dried fruits." "In that case. he thought. He picked up a small handful and began to manipulate it idly as he walked. Behind her house was a storeroom. and her husband a farmer. He continued towards it. Utaro reached out and touched it. though now she was just another desolate soul. confused. and soon saw that the sparkling iridescent metal could be bent easily again. in a different life. and all the year’s harvest was incinerated. Soon he had come to a massive crater. It was at that moment she realized there was no hope. At the center he could see something small and vaguely spherical – the core of the star itself. but was harder than steel. As Utaro continued on his way. and the fires had spread rapidly. Most of the dirt had turned to ash. the damage became increasingly severe. He was surely approaching the site of an impact. in small lumps near the center. and found that it was soft – moldable by hand like clay. A few steps away from the center. The cobblestones of the road itself had been turned half to dust in some places. 58 .hopeless existence forever. with scarred rocks strewn here and there. the storehouse had caught fire. over thirty feet across. wandering the city in futility. he found that the metal could no longer be bent. He turned and walked back towards the center. The ball of flame had landed a few streets from her own house. What were they made of? Stone? Metal? Some previously unknown substance? He increased his pace and continued on. and could see a fair amount of iridescent metal. As the flames spread. filled with grain from the harvest – she had been a baker once. He realized that he had never actually seen one of the fallen stars up close before. several small darts. it had not snowed in the night. By his side lay a hatchet. In fact. There would be no rebuilding. Luckily. with everyone as weak as they were. “You found meat.” Utaro said. But that was impossible. it was doubtful that word of the disaster would ever escape the valley in which the city lay.What is going on? he wondered. Then he remembered: not everyone was weak. gleaming in the light of the sun and the fire. almost no livestock survived the initial impact. and a larger hunting knife. for the roof of the ruined house had many holes. roasting several rabbits over a small fire. “Do you want any?” Kest was awestruck. but is very hard at other times. The walls provided little protection from the cold – the primary reason anyone bothered staying in the house was that it mitigated the wind some. of course. Suddenly. How?” 59 . What about that man – Utaro – who had come with food the previous day? Kest rose to his feet and peered out the door. he noticed a faint odor resembling smoke and freshly roasted meat. Even so. What is this substance? And what is that other part of the meteor made of? He picked up the small core at the center of the crater and saw that a faint bluish glow emanated from beneath it. there was Utaro. and those that did were consumed in the first week. So what exactly could it be used for? He gathered together a lump of metal and a few flat stones to shape it on. and began sculpting. “I made breakfast. all made of an iridescent metal. Then it struck him: The metal softens near this stone. And there were no other cities near enough from which livestock could be brought. Sure enough. The next morning. Kest awoke. it was still terribly frigid. I was able to create the array of tools you see here – a hatchet to chop firewood.“Simple. darts to kill game. I have tools with which to rebuild. I am traveling east to look for more survivors. bewildered. taking a piece of meat. Keep yourself. I have firewood. “but why does it matter? We’ll all be dead soon enough. “Excuse me. as Utaro walked into the distance. You can take them – they’re yours now. “but are there any other people around here?” “There are a few over there.” He removed from his satchel a cut of meat from one of the 60 . listlessly raising her arm northward. after all this time. daring to hope that perhaps rebuilding the town was possible. “Of course I’m hungry! There’s been no food anywhere near here for weeks! What sort of question is that?” “I have food. then killed it and brought it here. With this. alive.” she replied.” he asked her. I just went out into the forest until I found a rabbit. and a knife to clean the meat. madam. Utaro encountered a despondent-looking woman. that becomes pliable when exposed to the stone’s light. and a metal. and the family in the house. I found in the crater a stone that glows.” “But how did you kill it?” he asked. Soon after.” “Are you hungry?” he asked her. hard as steel.” Kest stood by the fire. Many legends claim they have strange properties. and these were no different. “All the bows in the town were either burnt or broken when the stars hit!” “I find it odd that. nobody went to see what the fallen stars are made from. Turning around. he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. I was inspired. so you have enough metal. “Before you came. “Why was he so cheerful?” “He realizes the truth: that all that is keeping us chained like this is our own despair.” Kest nodded. Make sure you visit a crater first. “I realized something. Take this and eat. then strode off. come with me – we must spread this truth to the inhabitants of this settlement you spoke of. “I have hope.rabbits.” As Utaro and his downcast guide continued through the ruined streets. Come. Don’t worry about the family in the house – I left them plenty of meat and firewood. heading northwest. “What was that boy talking about?” Utaro’s guide asked him. The stars that fell are made of a wondrous metal. from which tools can be made.” Kest replied. and do not despair. There will probably be a few more survivors there. Your vision for this town’s recovery has now become mine as well. nobody thought there was any way to get out of this state of disrepair we had fallen into. trying to catch up. he was surprised to see Kest walking towards him at a fast pace. But after seeing how you believed it was still possible to thrive here. Now.” 61 . “What are you doing here?” Utaro asked. Is there anywhere you haven’t been yet where I can work on rebuilding?” “I haven’t been to the northwest of the city. take me to the place where the others are. though. piling on our shoulders. while you’re sleeping. The thickest snow falls gently. undisturbed love. it falls silently.Heat Wave Eminent Ben Zuegel Love blows on the wind. You want it so badly that you don’t notice When clouds of it don’t fly up in the air after every slight breeze. Whispering past your ears. Words can’t compel it otherwise. A firm hand. It promises not to melt. The sun melts it. It stays. waiting for the next storm. You pay no attention to the dripping icicles outside your window. leaving its thin tracery on your lawn. Though drifts of snow come in a rage of shrieking winds and gusts. to snow you in permanently. overnight. But it doesn’t leave. love. 62 . You want to wake up to a morning of pure white snow. falling like snow. And you believe. A landscape of unblemished. You hold it so tight that your hands start to sweat. 63 . It slips through your fingers. Making the hand slippery in your grasp. The trace of snow on your lawn leaves For good. Knuckles white from holding on so fiercely. That remains untouched by a harsh sun.As winter draws its pale hand back. under some rock or bush. Leaving you searching For that small bit of snow. The midnight wind dips and pulls and pushes and swirls.Midnight Wind Erika Bartlett The midnight wind is strong and cold. It picks up the vibrant color of fall leaves. and they go floating through the air. When darkness falls the midnight wind will breathe once again. As the town wakes and people arise. 64 . slicing through the air. the midnight wind stops and hides. It dies for the day and waits for the night to begin. It sweeps across the blackened sky. “I tired. “But.” he mumbled. baby. “But if you get up. pulling his Scooby Doo blanket away gently. I snuggled deeper into my bed.Coming Home Nelly Green “Good morning.” “No.” “I know. his voice marred by sleep. Rochester! Today is looking mighty fi—” I brought my hand down hard on the top of the alarm clock and groaned happily as the radio was silenced.” I replied. you gotta get up because I have a surprise for you!” “A supwise?” Noah echoed. you’ll find out soon. I shot straight up in bed and threw the covers off of my body. I hurried down the hallway of the apartment and pushed into Noah’s room.” I cooed. my eyes snapped open. and he frowned. I tiptoed over to his bed and smiled at the sleeping three-year-old. Almost. placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. but just as I started to doze back to sleep.” I whispered. “What supwise?” “I can’t tell you. whose thumb was stuck in his mouth. “Noah. “Baby. you gotta get up. I almost regretted waking him up. I nodded.” 65 . his eyes fluttering open. I changed into a pair of dark jeans and a loose. “Time to get dressed. and Noah groaned but agreed.” I said. “How about I get the clothes and you put them on?” I suggested. Noah insisted on 66 . I scooped him up playfully in my arms. gray long-sleeved shirt. picking him up out of his booster seat. and some overalls. and he sat up slowly and reached out for me. I poured some Cheerios into a bowl with a minimal amount of milk. “I can do it!” Noah cried. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and padded back down to my room.” Noah said. I plopped Noah down in his booster chair and grabbed his juice cup out of the fridge. I handed it to him and turned on the kitchen television to the Fresh Beats Band. When he was done. I opened his drawers and pulled out a Thomas the Tank Engine long-sleeved shirt. and placed it on the table in front of Noah. And as soon as I put him down on the ground. I helped him connect the snaps on the overalls and slipped his light-up shoes on his feet. and he squealed in a mixture of surprise and delight. When I walked back into the kitchen. Noah was finished with his Cheerios and talking back to Dora the Explorer. a clean pair of underwear. “Mommy!” I just chuckled and walked out of Noah’s bedroom to the kitchen.“Okay. as he ate. who eagerly changed out of his Spiderman pajamas. Then. I shoved my feet into a pair of sneakers and grabbed my purse and phone off of the top of my dresser. I handed the clothes to Noah. he scampered down the hall into the bedroom. I followed after him and found him trying to climb his dresser. Bud. and I followed him out of the bathroom. and I shoved my phone into my back pocket. but a second later. I hurried down the stairs as Noah squirmed in my arms. If I didn’t hurry up. and I chuckled.doing the Velcro. I grabbed my purse from the kitchen table and turned off the TV. pointing at me. and I burst outside of the apartment building. and I couldn’t be late for this. and without a response. “If you don’t let me brush your teeth. When I was done. let’s go!” I replied with the same enthusiasm. he ran out of the room. Mommy’s sorry. I glanced at the time on my phone and gasped. I was going to be late. scooping up Noah in my arms. “Mommy said a bad word!” Noah yelled.” I replied hurriedly. I smiled and scrubbed his small. and then I tugged a brush through my bed head to tame it. “Then. “I know. I splashed my face with water to wake myself up. “Ready to go?” I asked Noah. I grabbed my toothbrush and quickly brushed it against my teeth. the plaque monsters are going to move in. I know. I frowned. Noah reappeared with his Batman action figure.” I ordered gently. “Open your mouth. Do you want that?” Noah looked at me in horror and then instantly opened his mouth. barely remembering to lock the door behind me. I rushed out of the apartment. Then. I ushered him into the bathroom we shared. but Noah folded his lips inward and shook his head vigorously. Then. 67 . I pointed to the sink and told him to spit. baby teeth gently. I grabbed his toothbrush and squirted some sparkly blue toothpaste onto the bristles. “Shit!” I whispered. “Ready!” he declared. his toddler voice full of concern. I jumped out of the car and hurried to unbuckle Noah. the sky opened up and rain came pouring down hard and fast. Noah. baby. I pulled out of the apartment complex and onto the highway right next to it. It took all my will power not to yell at him to be quiet. and I let my head fall against the hard rubber of the steering wheel. My fingers fumbled at the buckle. I opened the back door and helped Noah scramble into his car seat. “I just don’t want to be late. no!” I groaned. As I turned onto the exit for the airport. and I glanced down at the radio clock. I turned on Noah’s story CD and drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel as I merged into a different lane. A couple minutes and a few feet later.When I reached my car. I turned the key in the ignition and breathed a sigh of relief as the engine roared to life. “No. “Mommy!” Noah cried.” I murmured sarcastically. and I had to take a moment to calm myself down before I could finish strapping him in. I was in such a rush that I paid the overpriced parking fee and parked in the first available spot.” I replied. after all. and I ducked into the driver’s seat. I was ten minutes late. I locked the door as I grabbed Noah’s hand and hurried towards the airport. “How fantastic. By the time I pulled into the airport parking lot. I was going to be late. started singing along to his story CD. Mommy?” Noah asked. He had no idea what was going on. “You’re hurting my arm!” 68 . as oblivious as three-year-olds are. I found myself in bumper to bumper traffic. no. “What’s wrong. and I couldn’t be late. Suddenly. trying to reassure myself. past the security checks. Even with his dark hair buzzed short and his body clad in a camouflage uniform.” At the sound of his voice. I started to really worry. “Will!” 69 . I went straight for the area just outside the door. I frowned. a large mass of people started to walk through the door from their planes. ready to see him. and I picked him up into my arms. I’d actually missed him. I thought. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Instead of sitting down. When everyone had passed me. I knew it was him. until I came to the cushy place designated for family members to wait for their loved ones. I brushed the soaked hair from his forehead and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. I set Noah down carefully on his feet and held his hand as I waited anxiously. “Will.” I said.I turned around to find his lip trembling in the rain. He couldn’t have left his plane and been here by now. I pulled Noah closer to me and smiled. and my heart was beating so fast that I wouldn’t be surprised if the people around me could hear it. I was only ten minutes late. and I immediately felt the guilt. I continued inside and stared at the confusing signs until I figured out where the Delta terminal was. Maybe. Then. taking him in. I turned around slowly and gasped. “Sorry baby. However. I’d been too late. but it wasn’t working.” I breathed. maybe. “Juliette. My hands were shaking with anxiety and excitement. as the flow of people started to dwindle. I climbed up the escalator and hurried down the wide hallway. fat tears started to roll down my already soaked clothes. I had my Will back. I could still see the fireworks. but I didn’t care. jumping into his outstretched arms. Even after seven months. 70 . I pressed my lips to his and felt my heart beat faster.I scooped up Noah and sprinted over to him. Big. the trigger spooned against his finger like a lover. Sometimes. For justice. the plastic toy soldiers say when the right string is pulled. he says but shoots because he knows how. There are no names to tattoo into the sensitive skin of his wrist so he leaves the bodies in the dark like an unfortunate mistress.The War Game Dominique K. They tell him he has served his country well. reborn in the crack of a gunshot. The ending will be swallowed up like all the tragedies of history are. I’m honored. he wonders if they realize 71 . Pierce He converts. dead people smell like any other road kill. the toy soldiers say. (If he ripped the strings out would their mouths keep moving?) 72 . For liberty. He obeys until the silence loses meaning and the rolling of his tongue crashes against his teeth. I Am Only Half Brooke Ashton Parry In my fears I am only half. Two flames burn inside of me, one is borrowed, one is mine. I must care for both, I cannot let the other die, for if one passes, the other is lost. Balance is key. Two eyes see two lives, one mind is governed by two trains, and one heart is torn by conflicting emotions. Eyes open, and my eyes watch my normal life. Eyes closed, and my eyes see the life of a flustered, naive, amateur spy. Scrawling, I scribble her story down before it is too late, before her life fades from behind my eyes. Time is always passing by, never yielding. Tick tock tick tock... I know I must hurry, and the fear of her possible disappearance nipping at my heels keeps me sprinting. I watch her movie every night in my dreams, and fiercely hope that her story 73 never slips out from between my fingertips. My book grows longer as our lives pool more and more together, leaving me wondering where to draw the line. But, I know that there is only one life preserver at hand. If someday I can no longer sustain two lives in one heart, I keep it ready, knowing that I would narcissistically deliver myself and let her go. 74 Untitled McKenna Uzelac Words swirl and spill over the edges of the tainted goblet of stories stained with the souls of shrieks never voiced. They scream and twist and struggle to be heard they pull against the bonds of gravity striving to be more than just lines. They strain and pull. Begging to be released, writhing with frustration. They let out a single solemn howl. And fall silent. 75 NY. to author events and community programs. Writers & Books is a creative haven for the literary minded in Western New York. From youth and adult classes in creative writing and the book arts.wab.org.About Our Sponsors Writers & Books is a non-profit literary center in Rochester. For over thirty years we have made it our mission to spread a love of reading and writing to people of all ages and backgrounds. 76 . For more information. please visit us online at www. racf.dixonschwabl. New York.com. Dixon Schwabl Based in Rochester. and philanthropy. Dixon Schwabl offers the most comprehensive marketing capabilities in the Western New York region. video production.org. Dixon Schwabl is a full-service advertising. public relations and digital media agency specializing in unified marketing campaigns and services. friendship. The members are the next generation of citizens who make “giving back” part of their lives through leadership.NextGen NextGen Rochester is a peer-led form of philanthropy. visit www. For more information. television advertising. event planning. media buying and social media. With marketing expertise in branding. visit www. market research. 77 . For more information. 78 .