Inscape 2015

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Inscape

Celebrating 40 years of the Arts at Central Methodist University

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Inscape ©2015 by Inscape, Central Methodist University’s Magazine of the Arts.

Inscape is one of the creative endeavors of the students, faculty, and staff at CMU. This unique publishing opportunity is one of many educational experiences that CMU’s Department of English, along with Sigma Tau Delta, provides. They have a distinguished record of placing students in graduate and professional study as well as in education and other professional fields. If you would like further information about CMU’s Department of English contact: Dr. Annette Van

Department Chair- English

411 Central Methodist Square

Fayette, Missouri 65248-1192 avan@centralmethodist.edu 660-248-6332 Or visit www.centralmethodist.edu/academics/english for more information.

The Inscape staff and Sigma Tau Delta wish to thank the staff at Modern Litho, Jefferson City, Missouri, for their assistance in producing and printing this issue.

All CMU students, faculty, and staff are invited to submit their creative work for possible publication in Inscape. Please contact the editors at inscape@centralmethodist.edu if you have any questions or are interested in submitting for the next issue, which will be released in the Spring of 2016.

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Inscape

Central Methodist University’s Magazine of the Arts A project of CMU’s Mu Lambda chapter of Sigma Tau Delta Issue 40 / 2015

Editors Kelly Jo Davis Courtney Warford

Faculty Advisor Dr. Kavita Hatwalkar

Inscape was founded in 1975 by Central’s Tau Tau Tau honorary fraternity, Mu Lambda chapter of Sigma Tau Delta (the International English Honor Society), and the legendary Scribblers and Scrawlers.

Inscape is funded by CMU’s Student Government Association

Table of Contents

Front Cover..........................................Wanderlust- D. Crowe- Boicourt Inscape Defined..............................................................................6 Forty Years Later............................................................................7 Note from the Editors.....................................................................8 Poetry..............................................................................................9

First Place: Church- B. Brown 9 Second Place: A Feathered Man- K. Klapperich 11 Third Place: A Touch of Red- M. Hustead 13 The World- L. Phillips 14 Verde Prato- L. Gerke

16 Real Life Relationship- A. Hartley 19 back to basics- D. Franklin 21 The Artist- A. Ruessler 22 6MansLaughter- A. Webb 23 Breath of Life- D. Weigand 24 Chaos of Thought- J. Sporleder 25 The Millennials- B. Brown 26 Libretto Andante- A. Jenkins 28 After Party- B. Brown 29 I See You- A. Ruessler 31 The Game- B. Jansen 33 Symbolism- S. Chrisler 34 The Precipice- K. Nolawski 35 Insight- A. Eckhoff 36 Screaming- J. Anderson 37 Hiding- D. Weigand 38 469. Holy Fuck- B. Brown 40 The American Soldier- J. Anderson 41 One Hundred and Ten Floors- A. Webb 42 dream and transformed injustice- C. Kenaston 43 Nchi Yangu Tanzania- G. Bilabaye 44 Final Round- A. Jenkins 45 Blue- B. Jansen 46 Shadows- M. McKinney 47 A Triangle Has Three Sides- K. Klapperich 48 Home- M. Hustead 50 Dust of Men- A. Jenkins 51 Out of Sight, Out of Mind- A. Eckhoff 52 Rain Not Heard- J. Sporleder 53 Naturescape- C. Kenaston 54

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Fiction............................................................................................55

First Place: Candi Lane- K. Klapperich 55 Second Place: A Path Slightly Less Traveled By- D. Franklin 57 Third Place: Subway Surprise- M. Hustead 60 A Night Out- L. Phillips 62

First Place: Ansel in the Bathroon- P. Johnson 65 Second Place: Isolation- K. Forqueran 66 Third Place: On The Road Again- D. Crowe- Boicourt 67 Snowy Campus- G. Bilabaye 68 Night in Cork- K. Kuoppamaki 69 Overcoming Fears- J. Anderson 70 Purple Nightfall-E. Schultz 71 A Piece of the Verse- K. Bush 72 Feeling Blue- D. Crowe- Boicourt 73 A Day in Paradise- A. Ruessler 74 Linn Memorial Church- J. Anderson 75 Irish Mountain- K. Kuoppamaki 76 Better Days- M. Pomajzl 77 Where I Come From- K. Forqueran 78 Wicklow- K. Kuoppamaki 79 Red Water Dragon- E. Schultz 80 $22.50- P. Johnson 81 Triarchy- P. Johnson 82 Working 9-5- D. Crowe- Boicourt 83 Reflections- K. Forqueran 84 Stairs to Heaven- G. Bilabaye 85 Tower of Time- G. Bilabaye 86 Amsterdam Canal- K. Kuoppamaki 87 Hold On Tight- D. Crowe- Boicourt 88

First Place: Who Will Remember Me- D. Franklin 89 Second Place: Beyond the Shores- G. Bilabaye 92 Third Place: My Best Year Coaching- J. Tarr 95 Hostage 2.0- A. Webb 98 Lesson Learned- B. Jansen 104 Hugs All Around- J. Sporleder 108

Photography, Paintings, and Drawings..........................................65

Nonfiction......................................................................................89

Ten-Minute Play...........................................................................110

First Place: The Magic Shot- L. Phillips 110 Young Writer’s Day......................................................................117 Editor and Contributor Biographies.............................................122 6 Inscape 2015

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in • scape / in-skeip/ n.

Word coined by British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins for the individual or essential quality of a thing; the uniqueness of an observed object, scene, event, etc.

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Forty Years Later

Inscape was born in the spring of 1975 when the Tau Tau Tau English Club, Sigma Tau Delta, and the Scribblers and Scrawlers united to initiate a new literary magazine on our campus.

Before that time, we had newsletters from “S&S,” collecting literary efforts of our students. The new publication was called “Inscape,” a term coined by Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J. (18441889).

Before James Joyce called those flashes of revelation in his works “epiphanies,” Hopkins spoke of “inscapes” and “instress.”

Both meant that ordinary experiences had the capacity to startle, in sudden uncouth explosions, with a vision of truth. English poetry (and the English language) had taken on a whole new mission with these two modern wordsmiths at work.

With all this in mind, it seemed quite fitting that our new literary endeavor back in 1975 be called “Inscape.” Each writer and artist who enters the pages of this magazine is giving us a work in an “individually-distinctive” (another Hopkins expression) form, revealing the uniqueness of the natural object in that work. It has given me much pleasure to perceive the many epiphany moments unveiled in this journal over these past forty years. My earnest hope is that the English department continues to explore the beauty of Hopkins’ inscapes and help us intuit that beauty during the next forty years.

Dr. Joe Geist, Professor Emeritus (1972-1997) Former Curator and Current Registrar of The Ashby-Hodge Gallery of American Art (1993-2015)

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Note from the Editors As we wrap up the 40th editon of Inscape, we would like to thank everyone who submitted pieces to make this publication one of the largest yet. As Inscape continues to grow, we hope that each and every one of you will continue to submit work during your time at Central Methodist University.

So, sit back and relax.

Take it all in.

Enjoy tales of secret keys, hostage situations, and subway drama.

Experience photography and artwork that celebrate life and memories that each of us can hold close.

Will you be able to submerge yourself into beautiful and vivid works of poetry that grab you by the hand and lead you into another world? Will you follow along as characters switch bodies?

Do you think you can handle it?

Dive right in.

Kelly Jo Davis Courtney Warford

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First Place Poetry: Church

Bailey Brown I went to church and didn’t see You there mixed in with altar boys whose secrets outweigh the words they carry.

That wasn’t even Your body or Your blood, just 99 cent grape juice and Hawaiian rolls broken over a head and covered in lies.

You didn’t listen when we prayed.

And if You did, maybe the young wouldn’t die young and the broken wouldn’t be broken and we would love love without worry.

I couldn’t feel You under the white steeple where everyone swears You Live.

Or in the hymns that we sang to glorify You and You alone.

You weren’t there when the father said we’d go to hell. We’d go to hell for being how you created us.

You didn’t see the wars.

The blood, death, destruction all brought on by man all in Your name.

How could you 10 Inscape 2015

let us commit these atrocities to honor you? Millions of people dead. For you.

Did you tell us to kill? To hate? No. But then again, I never read the Bible and I rarely find myself in front of the stained glass depictions of the Lamb of God of your son of sacrifice of a pulpit and a preacher telling me to give, give money because you have to pay to believe.

I see you though. In the mountains, the fury of the sea, eyes of the tornadoes that roll across the country.

I see you in child birth and after rainstorms, laughter lovers’ eyes. You’re here.

I can feel you.

I can see you.

Just not where anyone thinks to look.

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Second Place Poetry: A Feathered Man

Kaitlyn Klapperich Virile You stand A leg up above the rest A bare red chest puffed out with pride and brilliant blue wings that scream: “Watch me fly high… higher… highest” vaporizing any selfless requests.

Virile You stand A leg up above the rest Exhibiting Your own selfish desires of slowly soaring up a pecking order (resembling more of a wrecking order) willfully neglecting any so-called mates and unravelling your premeditated bait all so you can get a date?

Virile You stand A leg up above the rest As to show the world, “I’m nothing shy of the best… best in showMANship, best in class, best at conniving her foolish ass if I can get her now, I will get her now” not even bothering to ask if you’re allowed?

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Virile You stand A leg up above the rest Covered in a feathered mask; flamboyancy with every task You’re much smaller than a peacock. not like a pea, but definitely like a cock, one of many throughout the flock, You’re a feathered man, Virile You stand

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Third Place Poetry: A Touch of Red

Mackenzie Hustead In our youth a rainbow, A tie-dye of hopes, dreams, joys.

The whites of innocence floating by In the clouds of always changing shapes.

The reds of sticky sweet lollipops And piles of leaves to jump into.

The oranges in the soft fuzz of peaches And kites flailing about in the sky.

The yellows in Saturday morning’s Spongebob And dandelions rubbed against your nose.

The greens of grass stains on your knees And dollar bills stashed away in piggy banks.

The blues splashing with floaties in the pool And in tears disappearing with Mommy’s kisses.

The purples painted on sides of ice cream trucks And in the t-shirts of our t-ball team.

But as we grow in age and responsibility, The world is shown in a different light.

No longer sheltered from the greater evils, We lose the rainbow in blacks and grays.

The blacks in learning that people lie And our world is polluted by chemicals and hate.

The grays of seeing crime without punishment And prejudice against anyone’s differences.

There’s no returning to that youth full of color.

Only holding on to that Speck of white, Smidge of purple, Drop of blue, Grain of green, Trace of yellow, Spark of orange, And touch of red.

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The World

Lyndsey Phillips For Abby: My World She was my world, my faith, my smile, my hero.

She was my world, my light, my path, my guide.

She was my everything, my heart, my base, my best friend.

The girl with long brown curls so soft you could use them as a pillow.

Who held me together through my mother’s illness and my first breakup. The girl who refused to leave my bedside after my miniscule surgery because she knew how petrified of hospitals I was.

The girl who would spend her last dollar on a cup of hot chocolate to give the Salvation Army bell ringer as it flurried down miniature, nippy snowflakes. And the girl I planned my dream vacation with.

She always wanted to explore, to meet new people in new places.

She wanted to fall in love in Paris overlooking the Seine River and sail the seven seas. To kiss a complete stranger under the stars in Espoo, and visit the castle in Macroom.

She wanted to live out of her suitcase, and send postcards home from every place she went.

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At 12:03 one sunny, August afternoon, my world was altered.

Forever.

She never got the chance to see the world, just the small town that we grew up in.

She never got to have her adventure.

But I will.

I will for her.

I’ll fall in love in Paris, and sail the seven seas.

I’ll kiss a stranger is Espoo, and visit the castle in Macroom, and I’ll bring her picture with me every place I go.

And my world will see the world.

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Verde Prato (Homage to Sexton) Levi Gerke

Young love rarely listens to reason.

It consumes all in its path

Like a typhoon.

Relentless, exciting, new.

Even when forbidden, Young love persists, Like a stubborn toddler.

Vivacious, tenacious, pure.

Unnatural—

Some kinds of young love are called unnatural.

But the lovers never feel this way.

Enamored, enjoying, true.

Once There was a prince.

He was as beautiful as a fresh apple— Red, crisp.

His two brothers, More like overripe pears, Were jealous.

The prince went to town one day.

He met another prince— Another fresh apple.

Green, juicy.

They talked, laughed, Fell in love.

What to do? Their parents Condemned this love.

Condemned it to hell, As lofty priests do sinners.

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A choice, they say.

Unnatural, impure, unholy, disgusting.

But young love persists.

The two princes consider their options.

Luckily, the second prince has learned some magic, And he builds a crystal tunnel Between their bedrooms.

It glistens like moonshine on the sea.

The princes visit each other every night.

Two crisp apples, sharing in life’s joys.

Caramelizing in life’s delights.

The brothers, those squishy pears, Spy on the prince.

They find him with the second prince, And tell their mother, the queen.

She meets the news with graceful fury, Something like a distant thunderstorm.

Her rage shatters the crystal tunnel— The princes, in their after-love, Are unaware.

“Adieu” – the second prince leaves.

The tunnel’s shards destroy His body like an apple peeler.

Dismay, despair.

Near death. Agony.

The first prince journeys for a cure, Finding hope in two ogres, of all things.

He kills them and takes their fat.

The blubber cures the harmed prince— Their love lives on, Secret and secure.

The queen dies soon.

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Her rage boiled over, they say, Like an untended pot of Campbell’s.

A ray of light, friends: The jealous brothers find happiness.

Happiness in their brother’s love.

The two princes live and wed and rule.

The green meadows of love roll forth.

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Real Life Relationship

Alice Hartley There is a time and place to learn and grow, at this point, that time and place is right now.

I love you with all my heart, but please know, that I can’t take any more of your shit.

I’m tired of your constant resentment, I wish you could understand how I feel.

The only way you can see how I feel, is to see that college is where I grow.

You have progressed into resentment, and I have enabled it until now.

I have disregarded all of this shit, thinking it would fade, but now I don’t know.

Here are some things that I want you to know, sometimes when you text me, it makes me feel, that you think college is a bunch of shit.

I have to let my education grow, I have responsibilities right now, and your temper is causing resentment.

School is not a subject for resentment; it teaches me life skills that I should know.

I have lead you on and I see that now, and after four years I can see you feel, scornful toward me as you’ve watched me grow, I’m sorry that makes you see me as shit.

We should start to resolve some of this shit, and begin to solve bits of resentment.

It’s taken years for resentment to grow, such a gradual change, we didn’t know.

It will take some time before we will feel, 20 Inscape 2015

more comfortable than we are right now.

It’s gonna take more than one sit down now, but after a bit, we’ll clear up some shit.

Then we will really know how we both feel, about extinguishing the resentment.

Because I love school, I want you to know, that this is the place that I love to grow.

I feel like I have had a chance to grow, and now you see resentment toward me, this shit will subside, that’s something I know.

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back to basics

Danielle Franklin you described to me a life that was plainly a psychotic mess. glimpsing me in your future while in search for an end. but as quickly as your fate jetted to the surface, and you became unsure of my readiness, you vanished with a whisper. summer was consumed with me illuminating my worries, cautions, and sorrows, like you entrusted me with the moments that kept a haunting hold on you. you, my faultless saving grace in this new brilliant beaming life of mine. the specific reason behind every smile that shone upon my face. we would crack jokes and laugh and tease. your mind changed just like the crisp autumn leaves. the pain of change made it too hard to enjoy immense feelings of what used to be enlightening. my dear, it was no longer easy for me to be stunted, and yet stunned, by so many unmet promises. venturing back to the past will not help us now or ever. we must remember not to cast our happiness on to someone else, for giving away what comes from inside is a psychotic mess.

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The Artist

Abby Ruessler The dusk falls over his face like a blush This most dangerous boy, he paints with his words Each stroke has a plan, no line is a rush And when he speaks his words are seen, not heard I’m too close to see the picture he draws I can only see an inch of his work Yet his canvas hangs on my empty wall His fatal flaws he paints over as quirks “But won’t you please stay?” he writes with his brush “But don’t you love me?” he keeps on painting What I don’t know now are that his words so lush, They look like sun but they’re only raining These works of art, they intertwine with me Until they become my reality

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6MansLaughter

Alyssa Webb Blood tarnishes the impenetrable brick walls You know your time is almost up.

Death snickers through the door.

You’ll never get to say goodbye.

You know your time is almost up.

Now you’re regretting the anger you caused.

You’ll never get to say goodbye.

Its passion caused this rage.

Now you’re regretting the anger you caused Heart pounding, you fill with rigor.

Its passion caused this rage.

You clamber for safety.

Heart pounding, you fill with rigor.

The thick cedar door creaks open.

You clamber for safety.

You collapse, lifeless to its amusement.

The thick cedar door creaks open The flash of the pistol destroys your vision.

You collapse, lifeless to its amusement.

Your last breath is drawing deep.

The flash of the pistol destroys your vision, Death snickers through the door, Your last breath is drawing deep.

Blood tarnishes the impenetrable brick walls.

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Breath of Life

Denise Weigand Breath of Life The music whispers Soothing its listeners The musician moves slowly Giving life to the notes Soft and quiet The notes carried by wind Summon an audience Everything is silent The musician is oblivious The last note is held Lost in the wind

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Chaos of Thought

Jeremy Sporleder Why do friends live in faraway places?

Travel hundreds of miles to see their smiles.

It’s how some of us have to face life’s trials.

Not to see daily familiar faces.

We might be alone against life’s disgraces.

Even some will face it with personal styles.

Most have trouble walking those narrow aisles.

Coping just means to notice life’s graces.

Thoughts can ruin our minds like perversion.

Thoughts stale brains with a snarl.

And make foul out of all our purity.

Cleanse the mind with prayer and immersion.

For it’s a temple and you the jarl.

Guard it and keep it with tenacity.

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The Millennials

Bailey Brown Our generation is fucked up.

Plagued by narcissistic needs and the pursuit of perfection.

We don’t care how beautiful others thoughts are as long as our pictures get likes.

Feelings? Well suicide is the answer for those pesky things.

And what?

We don’t care that we’re at fault.

“They were so young, why God” we’ll write on Facebook walls while praying to a God we don’t know.

Why you? I say because our generation doesn’t understand the weight of words, “You’re fat,” “You’re a whore,” muttered under our breaths while our actions say otherwise. What’s worse?

The masks we wear of inch thick makeup and a tough exterior brought on by the iPhone our parents didn’t buy after we begged and bribed relentlessly. All the while, we know that could’ve been us hanging from the rafters. We know we’re at fault. Do our actions change?

Of course not. We don’t walk in the shoes of our peers because they’re not wearing Uggs or Chacos, J’s or Sperry’s.

Our generation is self-centered and immoral.

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We idolize porn stars and brainless celebrities that thrive on the corruption of blossoming brains.

We make children famous for being adults and adults famous for being nothing worth celebrating besides their Coke-aine endorsements snorted by rolled 100’s.

We praise them for making tabloid covers, for fucking that hottie with a child, a wife, and a life not entirely theirs.

We eat lies for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Lies and false hope.

We are lost children searching for a God to follow and I know we won’t find him in a thrift shop or Starbucks or next to Beyoncé, Yeezus or Macklemore.

He left the church before we even had the chance to brush the booze from our breath, before we had the chance to leave Him. But isn’t, isn’t that the truth?

Our generation is fucked up. We know it. Yes, we know it. We set love free but it was at the cost of vanity.

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Libretto Andante

Adam Jenkins Speak to me with your red lips parting breathy syllables cast into the lights like a wind of light dust particles, a pale wave circling and erasing into the atmosphere.

Share the platform on cobblestone streets as our audience walking dogs or holding arms under Italian lamplights and stars smile quiet.

Let your voice trip like autumn leaves rocking the air in their fall careless of where to pause.

Be honest as night’s candle burned in lime, whittled to crescent, gesturing unfailing sight through breeze instructed treetops.

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After Party

Bailey Brown at the end of the night we find that we are the same amount of nothing that we were before. cars go into walls there’s Someone’s baby lying on the floor lying to his mom about the girl he knocked up while she was down on drugs, “Rape Baby” is what the doctor says to the lonely girl who wishes she was dead.

“Victims” it’s who we are. victims of life and love hopes and horrors alcohol and marijuana don’t you wanna find someone to dance to hold your hands don’t pick wrong pick right, right, write the name on the marriage license a contract with God with the State. pray that one day, it’ll all be okay.

It Will All Be Okay.

The nothing will fade and the ring will fit 30 Inscape 2015

you’ll love the mistake and your life will be next to perfect. one day. One Day, thisthis will all be worth it.

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I See You

Abby Ruessler You. Yes, you.

The one walking by yourself with your face shielded from the sky, hiding behind tears that no one knows you cry.

I want you to know that I am not blind.

I see you.

I see you as a broken hearted human being and as someone who is scared.

You are tired, you are broken, your heart could stand to be repaired.

I see you.

But I know what you’d say if I told you what I saw, you’d probably tell me that I could get lost because everyone before me has passed you off and labeled you a “problem child”.

But I know better.

I see you.

I may not know you but I know the pain in your eyes all too well, I knew what you were feeling before you told me what you felt because I see you.

The world may not, but I do.

I can see you past your bruises and scars I can see you for more than what they tell me you are.

They refuse to look past the broken parts of you, they have labeled you by the pain that you knew.

I know better.

I see you.

So when you feel like giving up this fight I want you to remember that I am right here.

Your strength will help you conquer all this 32 Inscape 2015

and anything that you might fear.

One day it will all be made clear, and I will be waiting, always near.

Do you know why?

Because I see you.

Don’t you see now?

I’ve been here the whole time I’m trying to show you this through these words I speak in rhymes.

So please, for me, keep your head up high and never be afraid to live your own life.

When you feel invisible you have somewhere to turn to.

The real me will always see the real you.

I see you.

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The Game

Brandon Jansen You might be weird, you might be feared But all is the same in this game The weird can be feared, And the feared can be weird You might be small, you might be Tall But all is the same in this game The Small could become tall, And the tall could become small You might be grateful, you might be hateful But all is the same in this game The grateful could turn hateful, And the hateful could turn grateful You might be in this game But all is the same in your game The game is yours to tame And to tame is all a game You might be in this game of life But no matter the hole, or the goal The game can not be tamed Life is tough and that’s enough

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Symbolism

Shawna Chrisler The entire structure is built of symbols Vaulted windows and arched ceilings Draw the eye up “towards the Heavens” As if prostrating oneself to the Divine and making oneself be small, making oneself shamed, were a virtue Bread and wine and vaunted words proffered to lead toward Heaven.

I too am a structure built of symbols a treble clef dangles across my throat cleaner than a crucifix Tell me again why we keep a device of torture about our necks? we are a proud race of murderers.

God, we are thieves And I a heretic Man says there’s no Heaven for a woman like me.

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The Precipice

Kyle Nolawski Ever since I can recall, There’s but one thing that makes me stall, That stills my heart, that chills my bone, that ahead, the great unknown.

I stand today at great crossroads, With a step that I must take.

Set up by the last few years, The choices and mistakes.

The bad decisions, sleepless nights, The brightest days, and highest heights.

And though I will miss, What brought me to this precipice.

I know that I must take this leap, And all my courage I must keep.

My number’s up, my name announced, By miracle, not mispronounced.

I step into the brightest light, Resisting body’s fight or flight.

The crowd looks like a living sea, My hand reached out for my degree.

Reality cuts like a knife, This is it, this starts my life.

The days and nights I’ve loved are through, I’ll miss you dearly CMU.

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Insight

Alexis Eckhoff Solemnly I sit, filtering in and out of the kaleidoscope of beings, sharing the same mundane colony day after day.

The underlying buzz escalated, producing a cloud of white noise dutifully polluting the air, with no escape due to the enclosed prison of the weathered walls.

Every blink transformed the scenery into a flip book of images cluttering my mind.

To myself I hum an insidious tune all while my world is still, outside of this lively tornado of raging humanity.

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Screaming

Jacqueline Anderson People screaming until Someone remembered, I Wanted to die. I Tried to hide, but Something inside of me Made me feel ashamed.

Boys looked at me As if I was the crazy one.

Please leave me alone!

I was angry inside, screaming, And punching until‌.

I looked to the garden.

Something inside of me Wanted to hide for a thousand years.

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Hiding

Denise Weigand Hide and you’ll be okay Hide and no one can see, no one can judge you or tell you you’re not pretty You despise yourself because you are not like society.

You are big and fat, and have pimples and scars, So you hide so others won’t see.

Won’t see who you really are, because they are your friends and you don’t want to lose them.

You see other people embracing themselves and don’t care.

You envy them because they don’t care about the norm that you can’t get away from.

You start to hate yourself Hating what you have become, Lost in the world, in what others will think.

You don’t want to lose anything because what you have is little and precious, But they are drifting away.

You stay inside and hide while they are out and about, Quiet and modest, while they are loud and obnoxious.

Finally you’ve had enough.

Enough of society and people’s opinions.

And then you see them again, the ones who don’t care.

They are like you but not, They don’t keep their head down and run through life, But have a determination to live free of prejudices and niches, To be who they are and take the world head on.

You are starting to see things Things you never knew.

You are not the same person you once were, Something has snapped and changed the tides of your world.

You can finally see who you are without society’s prejudices and molds.

You are blossoming into the flower in the garden that you were

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always meant to be.

The size of who you are doesn’t matter, your pimples don’t define you.

You are quiet to be wild, slow to anger, modest to be sincere and sensible.

You are finally free.

No more hiding, No more covering yourself up in shame.

Be free and do as you please.

Be free and Live.

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469. Holy Fuck

Bailey Brown “oh father where art thou” i said as i looked to the sky waiting for Him to come inside. he knocked me to my knees and i begged him please Please. please. father, son, Holy Spirit, eternal life, oh God with my hands tied in front of me, eyes closed in prayer, prayer, prayer oh god, spite me for being this naysayer. come into me fast, my faith is fleeting. memories depleting, come into me, come over me make me weep and beg for mercy. oh god he’s coming, oh God. he rises slowly a teepee of cotton, of sheet I’m on my knees.

I Let Him Inside.

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The American Soldier

Jacqueline Anderson One of the toughest boys in his class and Was the toughest man in his union.

He knew the sacrifices he was making, knowing That freedom doesn’t come free.

He never forgot about his brothers and sisters Who were lost on September 11, but most Importantly he was a survivor that day Each day he prayed that he would come Home to see his wife and children.

Always proud to be doing something that he Loved and never regretting it.

But, now it’s time to say goodbye to that Soldier that cared and loved.

That never showed that he was scared, even If he was.

To that soldier that showed pride in everything He did.

The pride he found for his family, the Country, and the union.

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One Hundred and Ten Floors

Alyssa Webb When smoke filled the New York morning skyline, Our nation was desolate and in tears.

How could terrorists hijack an airline?

It’s hard to believe it’s been thirteen years.

God bless the police and fire fighter(s), Some lost their lives when the Twin Towers fell.

Giving it their all when flames were a blur, They saved innocents during living hell.

Too young to understand the impact made, But I will never forget that Tuesday.

Merely a child, only in the first grade, Footage shown of ash filled smoke, black and grey.

So never forget those who gave their all, You don’t know when it may be your last call.

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dream and transformed injustice

Connor Kenaston Will one day live of their character, I have a dream where they will.

That? All men?

I have a dream, that by the color of their skin, with the heat, together at the table of freedom and justice, former slaves and their sons will be able to sit down.

But I have a dream that one day the content will rise up and live out— “We hold these truths are created equal.”

I have a dream, sweltering with the heat of Georgia, that one day this nation of brotherhood, of injustice, that my four little children of oppression—on the red hills of this nation, to be self-evident—not be judged.

The former slave owners’ sons will be transformed into an oasis, a state sweltering the true meaning of its creed (even the state of Mississippi).

44 Inscape 2015

Nchi Yangu Tanzania

Geofrey Bilabaye Uzuri wako ni mwangaza, Wageni na wenyeji kuwashangaza, Wema wako unatosheleza, Tanzania nchi yangu nakupenda, Tanzania watu wako nawapenda, Tanzania lugha yako naipenda, Nchi yangu najivunia, Nchi yangu ni kisima cha amani na upendo, Nchi yangu ni kimbilio la wageni, Nchi yangu ni bandari salama, Nchi yangu Mungu akubariki, Tanzania, Tanzania nakupenda kwa moyo wote.

(Swahili) Your beauty is luminary, Amazes both locals and foreigners, For Your kindness is sufficient, Tanzania the country I love, Tanzania I love your people, Tanzania I love your language, My country you are delightful, My country a well of peace and love, My country a safe harbor for those persecuted, My country a heartwarming port, My country God Bless, Tanzania, Tanzania I love you beyond doubt.

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Final Round

Adam Jenkins It’s the end of the fourteenth And they’re tying up and slowing down, Throws and jabs sinking.

Holyfield knows he’ll get the decision Foreman does too.

But they swing and throw For the crowds know.

Everything’s been decided With three minutes left.

My father watches Dreamily as the minutes wind down Wrinkled bones in his chair, Dying from cancer.

Dying from any cures for cancer, Giving the smiles.

He falls asleep.

I put my hand on his Feel the odd moveable skin over his knuckles, Lose sight of Holyfield, Foreman, Miss the last two minutes.

Catch the end, As my father breathes uneasily in his chair.

46 Inscape 2015

Blue

Brandon Jansen Our DNA has given us you, Red and yellow, Then came blue, Such a good-looking little fellow.

Red and yellow, Why is he blue?

Such a good-looking little fellow, But blue? We can make do!

Why is he blue?

We don’t care he’s our little man, But blue? We can make do!

We think we’ll name him Stan.

We don’t care he’s our little man, Such a good- looking little fellow, We think we’ll name him Stan, Our DNA has given us you.

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Shadows

Max McKinney Dancing gleefully in the crevices of my mind Ever present, their heavy feet echoing like gunfire Stomping, smashing, smothering every thought Despite my efforts to try to block them out, the demons stomp their way back Unrelenting, they press against my sanity with venomous joy that threatens to break me Memories that haunt me, mistakes that plague me, never to escape their assault But with each passing day, the stomping gets minutely softer And my remaining strength burns a little brighter The dancing demons try to trample over me But my pride will overcome the malice

48 Inscape 2015

A Triangle Has Three Sides

Kaitlyn Klapperich Here.

I am here For you And only you.

Love.

I am love For you And only you.

Home.

I am home For you And only you.

Strength.

I am strong For you And only you.

But— Who are you?

What is love?

Where is here?

And what is home?

Here I am Between two Klapperich gals.

Love I am 49

As the one that never strays.

Home I am Where our inner souls unite Strong I am As I reach out for your help And you— You are here From the blood of Joan and John You You are love From the sun that never fades You You are home To the keeper of all my truths You‌ only you Are the strength Of a love that makes home feel like here.

50 Inscape 2015

Home

Mackenzie Hustead Home The place I was born into.

A white two-story house With sailor blue shutters And a playhouse to match, Skirted by a wooden porch Where I danced in a pink tutu.

Home With the people I love.

No father, but three mothers.

One by blood, two by choice, Confusing strangers every Sunday In the favorite coffee shops.

Women who still care for me.

Home Where the memories began.

Blonde and blue befriends brown, Watching Pooh and Power Puff Girls, Excitement over matching panties.

Many days in the office with Mom, Playing with the magic doors.

Home The place I left at age four.

Belongings packed in a small red car, Hands full with a new dachshund And an old brown friend, A doll I carried everywhere.

Our voices echoing in empty rooms.

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Dust of Men

Adam Jenkins I don’t remember my great grandfather but I saw a picture and he’s standing in the earth profile staring into the sky.

He passed this piece of land on to my grandfather and my grandfather passed the land down to my father and my father sold all the land but a sizeable piece, where our house sat and the backyard sprawled.

My grandfather was old by then and seemed to forget that the land wasn’t his and there were frequent calls from the owner that grandpa was wandering around sticking his hands in the soil.

Mumbling curses and half-words on the way out of the house, my father would go into the field.

When he brought his father back home, his hands all stained with black, you could smell soil and sweat.

I was twelve when they moved my grandfather into town placing a tag on his wrist that he pulled at, constantly breaking his skin open.

One night he walked seven miles to our house.

From my window I saw him in blue silver ink wandering the land beyond the backyard sinking his hands into the turned soil.

I crept outside and came up to him as he turned around, his hands all full of earth, and he said, “You can always tell the worth of a man by the soil on his hands.”

He nodded intensely, a breeze flapping his white hospital gown.

Without moving his eyes he turned his palms up, the dark soil glowing in contrast to his white surround, and held them near my face and said “Look at us Jim. We’re rich!”

52 Inscape 2015

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Alexis Eckhoff Ice crystals formed; freezing the flimsy strands of dying grass that lined the shallow pool, the brown tints blending with shadows of murky greens.

There was no depth here, just emptiness.

Thus the frost began its silent creep over the abandoned surface, like fog sulking across the Earth, seeping through the twin bridges tinted blue from abandonment and scarred with flecks, the color of charcoal dusting its base.

There was no air here, no movement.

Gnarled roots extended from each side, its members caked in hardening soil from the ground.

The smell of decay and musk perfumed the air, settling, mixing in with the falling flakes.

There were no feelings here, no sense of end.

Waves of once vibrant honey wheat now clung to the snow-dampened floor, slowly losing its battle of visibility.

There was simply nothing left.

How long would it take until someone found her?

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Rain Not Heard

Jeremy Sporleder I can hear the thunder and see the lightning.

Nature’s showers can be the brightening Of the world as it’s put through darkness.

Beautiful as it may be and productive at times, Some of its clouds show nature’s voltage lines.

The clouds ascend to greater heights, As all the insects begin their goodnights.

I feel it in my bones as they become tender with anticipation.

The birds can tell, though I’m not sure how, That a rain unheard is coming from the sky’s dark brow.

Winds sweep up the dust of a long hot day, As the tears of the heavens fall away And make a breezy, damp, cool night.

Kids awaken with fright but I remain, My face shows awe while I humbly give praise.

54 Inscape 2015

Naturescape

Connor Kenaston The peace I sought to come to find, emerge!

So vast, but still my eyes cannot yet see the birds; they sing a song, a dance, for me.

I’m glad I ran away from that strong urge to pull my phone on out to read my texts, for I am here to breathe the air so free— without a bond or bounds it smells of trees.

I close my eyes, t’enjoy some peaceful rest, but passing cars don’t understand at all: I fled the town to find tranquility.

Ruptured that again I see; assholes who dare deny my blossomed wilderness.

Roam free and forth across the forest now— “Beware of bears.” “The park will close at sunset.”

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First Place Fiction: Candi Lane

Kaitlyn Klapperich

Behind the sequined curtain you stand; make-up flawlessly contoured, cascading brunette weave securely attached, and falsies perfectly placed around your buttocks and bosom. You’re more than ready. This is what you were born to do. But as the technical glitches of a run-down, second hand sound system thwart the beginning chords of Celine Dion’s “I’m Alive”, you momentarily ponder your show’s attraction. Five feet beyond the curtain stands an eager, enthusiastic, and slightly inebriated audience patiently waiting to be enthralled by the vocal crescendos, stage performance, and appearance of the queen of pop—Celine Dion.

Except you’re not Celine Dion…you can’t sing…and, unlike Miss Dion herself, you’re a man. Your audience already knows all of this though. And like never before, you question the purpose of your being.

Why is it, that after years of pretending to be someone you’re not, you finally acquire the public approval, acceptance, and self-reassurance you’ve been searching for from a crowd who has paid to watch men perform as women? Have they come for an amusing night out to bear witness the preposterousness of cross-dressing? Or, are they here to indulge in the dynamics and beautification of what constitutes the female form? A stage set for artists, performances, auditions, and bands, you can’t help but wonder if what you’re about to embark on is strictly for entertainment purposes only.

You look down at your size 12 feet, tightly squeezed into white patent, 5 inch peep toe heels, and finally feel that light headed buzz you’ve been waiting for from the pair of jager bombs you took moments before. Dammit, how could you forget to paint your toes? Momma’s shrieks from 16 years ago quickly come to mind from when she first discovered your secret stash of glitter OPI polish not-so-discretely hidden under your bathroom sink.

“It’s probably just a phase, Claudia,” your step dad 56 Inscape 2015

unconvincingly says to his wife later that night.

“We’ve tried everything! Football, baseball, hockey… cars, video games, tools. How did this even happen?!” she cries in between sobs. “For all we know he might be…gay.”

Coyly smiling at your mother’s conservative naivety, you let out a silent chuckle; if only Momma could see you now.

Those fleeting moments of freedom, glamour, and liberation you once felt as a small boy trying on Momma’s mauve business heels in rural mid-Missouri is what led you here today.

Nights spent caking on her “Live It Up” cherry red lipstick and anthem-ing out to Madonna’s “Lucky Star” gave you life when you thought there was no other reason to live. Yes, those were the moments, moments like right now that you tap into a soul within a body; evoking a sparkly spirit that not only gives your life meaning, but allows others to witness and take part in its beauty, even for a few transitory performances. A beauty that’s been stereotypically perpetuated through a gendered hierarchy for centuries, this is what has brought them here tonight. They’ve come to watch you, the queen of drag—Candi Lane. A man performing as a woman; an entertainer; a spectacle.

This is why you hesitate. This is what you question. Do you want to be a woman because of what you’re told? Do you want to play a role from a paradigm out of your control? Why is it that dressing, acting, and portraying a woman makes you feel whole? When will these fixed, binary boxes finally take their toll?

Questions you don’t know the answers too, and probably ever won’t, you realize you have tonight, and whatever the evening holds.

And just as suddenly as you come to this conclusion, the distant chattering and murmurs of your audience dies down, the introduction of your performance song begins, the curtain slowly begins to open, and you think to yourself: I’m Alive.

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Second Place Fiction:

A Path Slightly Less Traveled

Danielle Franklin

You shift into neutral, pull on the break, and get out of the black 2008 Chevrolet Cobalt. The car looks out of place in the quiet forestry environment. It’s raining outside, you look up and see the clouds grow darker each second. The air feels wet, moist.

You shiver as the wind bites at your neck. You walk towards a sign that reads: “Welcome to Everett, Washington”. You don’t remember how you got there, why you were in your car, or why you got out of your car in the first place. You turn around to get back into your Cobalt when you step on something hard, like cement, not the ground. You pull your hair back and tuck it behind your ear to examine closer what you just crushed with your right foot.

It’s an old skeleton key: rustic. The key is heavy, like it is made of iron. You take it back to your car and examine it closer.

You’ve seen this key before. You’ve held this key before. You stare at the key hoping to figure out where it came from or what it goes to, but you’ve got nothing. You toss it into your console and start the car up and place it into first. While you’re driving down the long narrow road and listening to the windshield wipers go back and forth to remove the mist, you cannot get the key out of your mind. You pull over onto the side of the road again to reach for the console box and pick the key up, this time noticing the peculiar designs engraved into the bow and the number 1138 carved into the shaft. You begin thinking more about what a key like this goes to. You’re only thought is a Victorian home. “I wonder if the lovely town of Everett has Victorian homes,” you murmur to yourself jokingly. You drop the key in your passenger seat deciding that you’ll take it to the Sheriff’s Office or something, “Someone will know what to do with it… Hopefully.”

You keep driving along. You have no idea how long this winding and narrow road is, but it feels like you’ve been coasting in first gear for quite some time. You check the clock and it reads 58 Inscape 2015

11:38 a.m. The clouds are rolling in darker, grayer. The rain starts to pour and you watch for lightning to shine down and brighten your view of the road. You get distracted by the sky and when your gaze goes back to the road, you immediately slam on your breaks – screeching and leaving tire trails. A black scruffy dog has sprinted its way into the road and stopped directly in front of your black Cobalt. Its eyes stare right into your eyes without blinking. You get out of the car and slam the door shut, jumping at the sudden eruption of thunder. The dog makes no movement. As you get closer, you realize that its fur is all matted up. The dog looks timid, so you crouch down and whistle for it to come to you, letting it know you will not cause it any harm. The dog begins to wag its tail and then dashes into the forest. Without even thinking, you run after it. Your instinct to get the dog into warm shelter takes over and all you can think about is getting it out of the forest.

You come to a big clearing in the woods. There is a lake that shines with blues and greens at every strike of lightning. The raindrops splatter down, making bubbles in the water. The water looks so inviting and peaceful that you almost forget about your frantic search for the scruffy black dog. You begin anxiously searching when you see it. On the other side of the lake is a rundown Victorian house with caved in steps and the number 1138 nailed into one of the pillars. Then you notice the dog standing near the fallen steps with a mocking smile. “Well, how did you get over there, silly? Don’t you want to go some place warm?” You speak in an upper register trying to coax the dog into going back to your car with you. The dog however, does not budge. It looks like it wants you to walk through the lake and drag him back with you. It is persuading you to do so. Seeing how far you will go.

You cautiously walk closer to the edge of the lake, nervous that if you make too sudden of a movement, the dog will just dash away once again and you’ll never get it. That’s when you see it, the long slithery black snake sneaking its way into the welcoming water.

You freeze, unable to make even the slightest sound. Your body trembles whether with fear or from the icy cold of the rain.

You start wishing. Wishing to be back in your car. Back in your room safely under the warm covers. Wishing to be out of 59

harm’s way. All of a sudden, you jerk awake as your body hits the hard wooden maple floors of your bedroom. You crawl back into your bed and force the covers tightly around you, still feeling the ice cold of your dream that you could have sworn was real. Except for the fact that you most definitely do not know how to drive a stick shift without killing it every 11 seconds, plus your 2008 Pontiac Sunfire is a light purple-blue and you have never even heard of the town Everett, let alone visited the state of Washington.

You reach under your pillow for your phone to check the time. You find the iron skeleton key with the number 1138. You sit up straight and begin to feel your body shudder as your hands shake to find your phone. The screen lights up showing 11:38 as the time. Your heart begins to race at an even faster tempo as your fingers fumble to unlock your phone. An alert pops up for a lost black scruffy puppy, which looks too similar to the one in your dream, last seen in Everett, Washington.

60 Inscape 2015

Third Place Fiction: Subway Surprise

Mackenzie Hustead

Lily stood squished between an obese man with a cold and a teenage girl with more facial piercings than she could count without staring. After a full day of standing, children tugging at her arms, all she’d wanted was an empty seat on the subway, but of course, it was packed. She sipped at her green tea, trying to remain calm until the next stop. The subway squeaked to a halt and people filed out: finally, some room to breathe. She had a few more minutes until her stop and was trying to figure out what she would make for dinner when the pierced girl tapped her on the shoulder.

“Sooo, that super hot guy is TOTALLY checking you out.”

“Huh?”

Pierced girl rolled her eyes, replied with a point, and returned to her vibrating cell phone.

Lily followed the girl’s finger to a man seated across the car.

He wore a smart black suit with a solid red tie. Dark brown hair sat on top of a very familiar face.Where had she seen him before?

She watched him for minutes unnoticed, consumed as he was in trying to talk on a cell phone with no service. Then the realization hit her like a punch in the gut. Kade James. The man was Kade James.

Now that she’d figured it out, there was no mistaking it and she couldn’t get it out of her head. They had met years ago when she was in college at Cambridge. The two had been drinking, but her memories of that night were anything but foggy. She could see those hands that had held her down to the bed so tightly it had left bruises. She remembered those eyes that had drunkenly appreciated her naked body. Those lips he had bitten in his pleasure, not realizing she wasn’t into it. He was the guy that had refused to stop.

She’d always imagined what she’d do to him if she saw him again. Fantasies about suing him for all he was worth, putting his name in the papers for something other than his success. She wanted someone to hurt him, break his heart, shame him like he

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had her. She could see herself walking over there right now and giving him a swift, hard kick to the groin. Maybe she’d kick him again when he was down, just for good measure. It wouldn’t make up for or change what had happened that night, but she was sure it would make her feel a little better now. But she knew she’d never have the courage to make her thoughts into reality. She couldn’t even take the few steps across the subway.

Giving up on his phone call, Kade dropped the newest iPhone into his briefcase. He felt someone’s eyes on him and looked around until he met her stare. She immediately dropped her head.

Still in habit from all the dates he’d been on recently, he began to observe her as a potential interest. He was usually spot on with his first impressions of people, a talent he had developed from being a lawyer. The woman wore glasses that gave her a quiet and intelligent look. She dressed in a way that projected her middle class status.

Normally, this kind of attire would put him off, but instead, he just wanted to see her in an outfit that he picked out, something worthy of her looks. He could even add an expensive necklace or earrings.

Then he noticed as her face reddened and she began picking at her nails, which were already chewed to stubs. It was an unattractive nervous tic that he found a little annoying, but he also felt guilty, realizing he might be the cause of her nervousness today.

He hadn’t meant to embarrass her when he caught her staring. Now he needed to go talk to her.

“By the next stop, I will go over there,” he thought to himself. He stood up to his full height and strolled over, careful not to look too anxious. She stood before he reached her. He extended his hand.

“Hello, I’m Kade James.”

The subway door opened. She looked down at her markerstained hands. When she looked up again, there was a rage in her eyes. He had a second to realize she was angry before the slap stung his right cheek. Then she was running off the subway, never looking back to see him standing there with his hand on his face.

62 Inscape 2015

A Night Out

Lyndsey Phillips

“Stop,” Amber said as she hit my shoulder. It took me a minute to realize what she said, but when I did, I softly took my lips off the guy’s, whose name I didn’t know. He had told me earlier in the evening, but at this point, I had had too much to drink to remember it.

I rolled my eyes and said, “I have to go”. This was the second time tonight, and the sixth time in a month, Amber had caught me kissing some stranger. I knew she was pissed. Amber, my best friend, and sorority big was the mother in my life. She held me when I cried, watched me succeed and was genuinely happy for me, and always tried to keep me on the right path, that path being one of virtue and dignity, our sorority’s cardinal principles.

“You will come back, won’t you?” he asked in a pitiful voice as I slipped away into the crowd. I had lost Amber. She must have walked off after telling me to stop. I searched what seemed like the entire bar trying to find her.

“There you are,” she said as I passed a table in the middle of the seating area, “sit”. Of course I sat down right then. When “mom” gives you an order, you follow it. Amber took a long pause and gave me that condescending mom look she gives me every time I do something I shouldn’t. I can’t stand to see her face when she does that. When anyone else gives me the mom look I can take it. Amber’s, however, makes me feel like the most awful human being on the face of the earth. I glanced at the floor as to not see her face, but I could feel her staring at me with the mother eyes I know too well. “You know better,” she finally said.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“You only hurt yourself when you do this, Casey.” She only uses my name when she’s mad or trying to get her point across; tonight was a little bit of both. “How do you expect me to trust you alone if every time you are you try to fuck some guy?”

I didn’t answer. I dropped my head to see my hands folded 63

up on the table. My thumbs slowly twiddled as I tried to avoid making eye contact. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but did she really have to bring it up here, in the middle of the bar?

“I think we should get going,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said in a feeble voice. I continued to look at the ground as we walked to the car.

Our car ride was awkwardly silent for the first ten minutes.

I didn’t take my eyes off the passenger window. Amber finally said, “Hey, you know I still love you.” She always says that when I mess up. She grumbles at me and then says she still loves me.

“Yeah,” I said in a muffled voice. The silence kicked in again. I didn’t dare turn on the radio. The silence was her way of saying she was disappointed in me. I knew it, I could feel it.

I couldn’t take the silence anymore, so I asked, “What’s my punishment this time?” She always gives me some ridiculous task to complete when something like this happens. She says it builds character and helps me break the cycle. She forces me to do something I don’t like in hopes that it will prevent me from doing the behavior in the future. Of course, I asked her to be strict with me. So I guess it’s my own fault. But I knew strict rules were the only way for me to shatter the bad habit.

One time she made me scrub the floor with a toothbrush and one time she made me write a five page research paper on why being promiscuous is bad for you. Even though they’re ridiculous tasks, I always do them. Deep down I know they help. I always think about why what I’m doing is bad for me. Who knows, maybe one of these punishments will actually help me fracture the promiscuous life cycle.

“You’re grounded.” That’s a first. She hadn’t ever grounded me before. “And you owe me a drink.” That’s our deal. Every time I kiss a stranger I have to buy her a drink. I buy her a lot of drinks.

The rest of the car ride we sat in silence. I recapped everything that had happened that night. I guess ending up in my own bed is a lot better than the bed of a stranger anyway. When we finally got home, Amber parked in the garage. Neither of us uttered a word as we walked inside and got ready for bed, but just as Amber was walking into her bedroom I turned to her and said, 64 Inscape 2015

“Thanks, Mom.”

She smiled as she walked in her bedroom and turned out the lights. I guess having a best friend who acts like a mother isn’t so bad after all.

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66 Inscape 2015

First Place Photography: Ansel in the Bathroom by Parker Johnson

Second Place Photography: Isolation by Kelsey Forqueran

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First Place Photography: Ansel in the Bathroom by Parker Johnson

68 Inscape 2015

Third Place Photography: On The Road Again by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Snowy Campus by Geofrey Bilabaye

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Third Place Photography: On The Road Again by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Overcoming Fears by Jacqueline Anderson Night In Cork by Kristopher Kuoppamaki

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Overcoming Fears by Jacqueline Anderson

72 Inscape 2015

A Piece of the Verse by Keonna Bush

Purple Nightfall by Emily Schultz

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A Piece of the Verse by Keonna Bush

74 Inscape 2015

Feeling Blue by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

A Day In Paradise by Abby Ruessler

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Feeling Blue by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Irish Mountain by Kristopher Kuoppamaki Linn Memorial Church by Jacqueline Anderson 76 Inscape 2015

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Irish Mountain by Kristopher Kuoppamaki

78 Inscape 2015

Where I Come From by Kelsey Forqueran

Better Days by Michaela Pomajzl

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Where I Come From by Kelsey Forqueran

Better Days by Michaela Pomajzl

80 Inscape 2015

Wicklow by Kristopher Kuoppamaki

Wicklow by Kristopher Kuoppamaki

Red Water Dragon by Emily Schultz 81

Triarchy by Parker Johnson $22.50 by Parker Johnson 82 Inscape 2015

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Triarchy by Parker Johnson

84 Inscape 2015

Working 9-5 by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Reflections by Kelsey Forqueran

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Working 9-5 by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

Stairs to Heaven by Geofrey Bilabaye 86 Inscape 2015

Tower of Time by Geofrey Bilabaye

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Hold On Tight by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt Amsterdam Canal by Kristopher Kuoppamaki 88 Inscape 2015

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Hold On Tight by Desiray Crowe-Boicourt

First Place Creative Nonfiction:

Who Will Remember Me

Danielle Franklin

I am just driving. Aimlessly. It is 48 degrees outside, but the November sun beats down through the glass onto my freckled pale face. My eyes squint so I don’t get blinded by the sun while fallen strands of my hair, which is piled on top of my head, dance against my cheek with the calm breeze. The radio starts playing what sounds like violins; drums in the background keep a heartbeat tempo.

‘Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks, say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams… up high.’

I’ll admit that I was pretty naïve when I was fifteen. That Spring Break, I acted invincible when I went on vacation with my best friend and her family/friends. My wide blue eyes were full of wonder and adventure. And I guess that’s what drew me to him. I wasn’t afraid to try anything. My friend, Katie, watched from the sidelines as this seventeen year old made me toss my head back with laughter at every joke he said. Katie did not think James was funny. “He’s no good. Crystal even told us to stay away from that mess.” I knew she was completely right, but he was tall and his dark brown eyes smiled whenever he said, “Hey, Danielle!” It was that bad boy image I just couldn’t resist getting to know. I was surprised that he asked for my number while we sat around a bonfire the night before we left. I could see Katie from a distance shaking her head while I rattled it off. She was even more disapproving when James and I spent the whole summer texting.

I was still surprised he wanted to have pointless conversations with me. So, I don’t know why I was so surprised when the texts stopped coming. Yet, tears still spilled from my eyes as I wondered what I had done to make him no longer want to talk to me.

I slam on my breaks barely passing the stop sign. My heart begins racing as I wonder how I made it safely to this place and how many stop signs I passed earlier. I start shaking my head at the 90 Inscape 2015

possible recklessness and slowly release my foot from the break.

My fingers drum the steering wheel to calm myself down, in tempo to the song on the radio. ‘Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks, say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams…’

I don’t know why I kept believing that Austin and I would last forever. I was only seventeen and we both had different paths to take. I could see it now, but then? Nope. Nada. It didn’t help that all of our friends constantly raved about us, allowing my mind to look towards a future with him. “You guys are perfect together.

He’s so sweet. You’re gonna last so long.” It also didn’t help that I was captivated by his bright blue eyes and sweet boy charm. We didn’t like the crowd life, though. Curled up on the couch that summer in Austin’s arms was my favorite place to be. Actually, anywhere was perfect with him that summer. I never wanted to leave his side. I especiallydreaded going home the night it stormed.

Still shivering in his baggy shorts and shirt, my dripping hair kept reminding me that just ten minutes before I was standing in the rain. “I’m still mad at you,” I mumbled, “like yeah, you wanted to be cute and kiss in the rain, but NO! I. am. COLD!” He laughed, pressing his face in my hair to whisper, “God, you’re perfect,” and kiss my cheek. His warm lips sent bone shattering shivers through my body. I should have seen the end while it began. I was tired of trusting and putting my heart out in the open and then getting it broken. Ten months later, we realized that there wasn’t much of a romantic relationship between us anymore, and he was gone.

The past summer forced me to remember all of the fun we had had together just the year before with lazy days of watching movies, late night swims in the pool under the stars, and Royals games with his family. I was hurt that it would never be that way with him again. I spent my moments designated for fun and free of school work in sorrow as tears streaked my rosy face, wishing I had done more to keep him by my side.

‘Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks, say you’ll see me again even if it’s just pretend.’

The late afternoon sun flickers through the tree branches, 91

making my view of the road a bit blurry. I’ve been driving for hours taking random turns. I don’t know where I’m going or what’s up ahead. I’m not worried, I just feel free. I used to sit and daydream a life with a boy, assuming that that’s how it will be. But it’s not, at least not at this moment. I’m happier now than I was this time last year. All the hurt from a broken heart is completely a memory. Obviously at times memories will strike due to the sound of fire crackling with wood or the smell of chlorine in my hair after swimming, and I cannot help but think about them and wonder if I had the same lasting effect on them as they did to me, even though the relationships did not end in a happily ever after tale. Sure, someday, I’ll find a guy and know for certain. Now, though? Now, I’m content with laughing and flashing smiles, and watching the boys chase after girl’s perfume.

I park the car and hop out. The wind sweeps at my dress and nips my neck, but I’m still too mesmerized by the sunset to even care.

92 Inscape 2015

Second Place Creative Nonfiction:

Beyond The Shores

Geoffrey Bilabaye

It was the biggest day of my life, although it started like any other day. Nothing seemed unusual and everything looked like it did just the day before. Flowers were blooming, the bees were buzzing, birds were singing harmoniously, fresh air from the ocean waves, and elegantly colored trees were all around.

I woke up and stood in the middle of my room and thought, “It is finally here.” This was the day I would set out to leave behind everything and everyone I knew to go to a place I had never been.

I was both worried and thrilled by what was to come. I convinced myself that “this is what I have always wanted. This is the thrill I live for. An opportunity to be my own man somewhere in the world, to test my limits.”

As I sat in my room, I heard my mom’s voice instructing my siblings to do something. I felt an urge to go to just be around her as I watched my siblings set the table for breakfast.

I knew how precious these last moments were. It made me happy to just watch my family do what perhaps every family does in the morning, except this one was special. It was mine. For a moment, I felt ridiculous because I wasn’t helping, but then I thought if I did something I might miss this surprisingly poignant moment.

My mom makes the best toast in the world. Despite the delicious homemade toast on the menu, I hardly ate. More than anything, I wanted to just be with my family. Nothing else mattered.

After breakfast I helped my mom with dishes. I noticed she had barely said anything to me. I expected her to make a comment when I was just staring at the table, while everyone else was eating. I pondered what was going on in her mind.

I jokingly said, “Hey mom, good morning!” She looked at me, forcing a smile. She must have thought she needed to let me know that she was okay, but I knew she wasn’t. She must have

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struggled to sleep that night, I assessed. Her eyes were blood shot.

I was hurt. I hated to see her sadness. I finished doing the dishes and walked back to my room. I wanted to cry, but I tried hard not to. I said to myself, “You can’t let them see you like this.

You have to be strong. At least appear to be.”

While I sat in my room, I heard my dad’s voice after a knock, “Get ready. Your plane leaves in two hours.”

I made sure I had my passport and that everything was ready, then we got into our family car. Everyone was quiet. It bothered me. I hate silence, so I started cracking jokes about my little brother’s clumsiness and the funny things he does.

“Hey Ben” I asked my younger brother, “do you know how many times you’ve tried to ‘push’ doors that are clearly marked ‘pull’?”

“You must think you are hilarious, don’t you? Not cool man. I will let this go just one time.” Ben said.

We laughed. For a moment, it was perfect, and I seemed to forget that I would be leaving my family. Not being able to see them for an unknown amount of time wasn’t something I wanted to imagine.

It was at times like these that I wondered whether leaving home was the best thing to do. My dad, however, seemed to trust me. He had this assuring confidence in his eyes that told me that I know what I am doing and he wasn’t worried. It made me feel good. He told me the night before, “Son, if all fails you can always come home. But for now, go away beyond the shores. Explore the world for yourself. It’s a good thing.”

Before any of us knew or wanted it, we were at the airport.

Everything appeared lively, and people who were waiting for their relatives to arrive appeared happy and anxious.

We waited at the airport. That moment made us a tight-knit family. When the time to check-in for my flight came, I turned around and gave my family the last group hug for a while. I never wanted to let them go. I wanted that moment to last eternally.

As I walked away, I caught the last glimpse of my family through a glass door. I saw both my little sister’s and my mom’s face covered in tears. I nodded to my father, and he nodded back.

94 Inscape 2015

I immediately walked away and felt the cold on my cheeks.

I had been crying too. I checked in my luggage and went straight to my gate. I still remember it. It was marked G4.

I extracted my iPod from a duffle bag I was carrying and I lost myself in music. For once I didn’t want to worry about the future, because I knew my family supported me. This was an initiation into a new life. I could feel it. As the plane took off, I looked at my hometown one last time through the window. It was beautiful. I wondered where my family might be among those little cars I saw from the sky. I knew it was a tough choice for myself and my family. Doing the best I can in college and eventually graduating became a new mission for me.

Four years later, I am now in my last semester as a senior, and as graduation gets close, I feel victorious for swimming against incredible tides. Leaving home was the biggest leap of faith I had ever taken, and I have reaped far more than I ever could sow.

I know soon enough I will see my family again, hug them once more, and enjoy my mother’s toasts again. I will always cherish my dad’s words, “Go beyond the shores. Explore the world for yourself.”

95

Third Place Creative Nonfiction:

My Best Year Coaching

James Tarr

A mighty crack came off the bat. The first base umpire pointed toward the fence and screamed “Foul ball.”

I watched the ball sail over the fence.

The shortstop from the other team responded quickly “he ain’t no hitter all he can do is foul one off, you got this guy.”

The pitcher nodded in agreement.

“Good swing Brad, it’s just like practice you know what to do we have done this hundreds of times,” I said to him clapping my hands together and smiling.

As I stood on the field memories of the last three years with Brad on the teams I coached came flooding back to my memory.

The first day I saw Brad he came to practice fully stocked with glove, bat, helmet, batting gloves, and copies of recent baseball magazines describing the league’s best hitters. Every year you get most of the same kids back on your team. Some kids move up a division and you get replacements for them. Brad was a replacement that no other teams in the league wanted, so I took him.

Brad had never played baseball before. In this league you have eleven and twelve year olds who have been playing organized baseball since they were four years old. To say Brad was behind is an overstatement.

Little by little I worked with Brad. Teaching him how to hold the baseball. Explaining what the seams on the baseball did and how important it was to throw with your arm coming over the top of your head. Slowly he made progress. His throwing ability showed improvement, but it was the second year of playing before he caught up to throwing like the rest of the kids in the league.

His dad wanted to help but had never played baseball. I showed him how to take Brad to the bleachers. “Have Brad stand underneath you and just drop the balls from your hand and let him 96 Inscape 2015

catch it,” I told his father.

I had his dad watch me help another coach use this technique at a practice for much younger players. But it worked.

“You know he is still afraid of catching the ball,” his dad would tell me.

After one day at practice I walked Brad back to his car.

“You know that way back in the old days they did not use baseball gloves,” I said to him.

“Well what did they use?” Brad asked me.

“Ha-ha, they used their bare hands,” I told him. “Gloves today are designed to catch the ball. Let me see your glove” I said.

“It’s a nice glove, here hold it by the sides.” I showed him how to put both hands on the sides of the glove. “Now don’t move the glove watch as it catches the ball.”

I tossed the ball into the glove and it wrapped itself around the ball. “All you have to do is put the glove in front of the ball and let it do the job.”

Brad quickly learned to catch fly balls.

Now that he could catch and throw, we worked on hitting.

Hitting we worked on every year, I started out by having him swing and tap the ball, just tap it I would say holding the ball still in front of him. Extend your arms all the way through the zone as you swing.

Three years of working with him, I had won as a coach, I had been lucky enough to have some really great players. Brad was not a great player but he was a great kid. I wanted him to get a hit so bad. I would have traded every win just for him to hit the ball one time.

The field was getting brighter. The lights on the field were warmed up and casting steady beams of light all over the field. You could smell popcorn in the air from the concession stand. The parents and players from the other teams was cheering louder and louder.

“He can’t hit,” “batter, batter, batter” “he won’t swing at another pitch” I looked at Brad’s parents in the stands with a quick glance. They were staring directly at me. I forced a smile to stay on my face. Remembering the meeting I had with them after 97

the first practice of the season.

“If Brad doesn’t get a hit this year were done with baseball for good,” his mom told me.

I looked back at Brad, “I believe in you. This is what you have worked hard for this moment, this is your time, you know you can do it, I know you can do it.”

The pitcher reared back his arm; he was a hard thrower. The ball came out of his hand, and traveled towards home plate. Brad had his eyes locked on the ball. He started his swing, extended his arms, got the bat through the zone and meet the baseball on the biggest part of the bat. “Crack” came the familiar sound of wood meeting baseball. Fans from our side started screaming, as the ball whistled through the air right over the shortstop’s head. I started my arm in a windmill “go to second, turn and go to second” I was saying as Brad raced around first, heading to second, base the ball bounced off the wall. Brad stood at second with a huge smile of satisfaction on his face.

We won that game, in fact there was only one game that season that we didn’t win. Brad never played baseball after that.

The next year I saw him after one of the games I coached in and he came over and told me that he was still a big fan of the game but did not want to play anymore.

As Brad walked away from me I thought about how hard he had worked, for that one hit. I have been a part of many winning teams in baseball. As a coach and as a player. But my best memory is of a kid no other team wanted. A kid who worked harder than any other. A kid who got his hit and walked away from the game still in love with it.

98 Inscape 2015

Hostage 2.0

Alyssa Webb

I vividly remember the crisp winter day of January 10, 2012. My friends; Jordan, Joelle, Jackson, and I went in this hundred-plus year old, beautiful Victorian style house up at Watkins Mills State Park in Lawson. The exterior consisted of a steeply pitched roof with textured shingles and a partial asymmetrical porch that looked to be pretty well kept. Upon entering the abandoned residence through the main foyer, we realized that it wasn’t in as great of shape as we thought. No matter which direction you turned, there was either blue floral wallpaper peeling down, or water damage on the ceiling and floor. Although it was a little musky and wasn’t necessarily what we expected due to the extravagance of the outside, we were still in awe of the intricate detail in the remaining wall art as well as the wood garnishing the living space.

The heating unit had been removed and the bitter air stuck with us as we moved through the house. My friends and I explored the open floor plan of the main level and ran across a creepy ice chest covered in dust and cobwebs out on the porch behind the kitchen. We laughed nervously and approached it, hoping there wouldn’t be a body decaying inside. Thankfully there wasn’t and we were spared a lot of disgust and trauma. As we continued exploring, we came across the bathroom on the first floor. There was a dead bird lying in front of the toilet and the shower was cracked. There was no running water in the whole house, and the lights didn’t work either. We ventured up the solid oak stair case that had two giant windows on the right which gave us plenty of light. The upstairs consisted of three rooms, each were big enough to be bedrooms, yet there was hardly any furniture remaining.

That’s when we heard the door downstairs open and close.

We froze. We heard rustling and somebody walking around.

Jackson crept to the top of the staircase and peered down. He tried to move away when he caught a glimpse of who was down there, but was caught. The man came storming up the stair case yelling 99

at Jackson to get out and he’d be just fine. Then he saw the three of us girls. The man pulled out a handgun from his waistline and told us all to go into the bedroom on the far corner of the house. He told us that if we didn’t that he wouldn’t hesitate to use the firearm because he was running from the police anyways and we might be some good leverage for him.

After about an hour and a half the man had calmed down and stopped yelling at us. We had been sitting there scared out of our minds and tried to make some small talk to compose ourselves a little. At first he didn’t want us to talk, but then his demeanor changed a little and he started telling us,

“I didn’t do it, I really didn’t.” Not knowing exactly what he was talking about, we asked. Hesitant at first, the man began to talk after saying he had nothing to hide;

“I fled from Texas because I’m being accused of murdering my mother-in-law.” Having some experience with law enforcement already, I knew that you can’t always trust what people are telling you, however in this situation I thought it was best to side with the guy.

“Hey, umm...mister with a gun... sorry I don’t know what to call you; but why would they think that? I mean you seem nice enough.” I inquired carefully. He said, “Just...you can call me Brody...and I didn’t do it! Simply because we didn’t get along and that she disliked me doesn’t mean I’d kill the woman!”He kept reassuring us that it wasn’t his fault, but since he didn’t want to wrongfully go to prison, he ended up here.

Brody got tired of talking so he got up and began pacing.

He left us in the room while he walked around the upstairs to look out the other windows. I happened to look out our window as it was starting to get a little darker outside; only instead of glancing and looking away, my eyes affixed to something. A woman was on the walking trail about five-hundred yards behind the house, however she stopped in her tracks; turned her head but instantaneously snapped it back. She side stepped a little, and then started running in the opposite direction from where she had been.

I couldn’t help but stare, because it was unusual. I immediately withdrew my attention when Brody started yelling. He told us that 100 Inscape 2015

there were cops were outside, He wasn’t going to let us out and that he would figure something out.

Then it hit me. That lady was running away for a reason.

I looked back and searched the area I saw her when I noticed something twinge with shine. It disappeared for a little while but I caught it again and tugged on Joelle’s sleeve. We came up with the theory that it had to be a sniper; maybe because it gave us some sense of hope. I guess my whispering to my friends was a little too loud for his taste though.

Brody came back to the doorway of the room we were in and yelled, “You, the blonde one, get up and come with me.”

Since my three friends are all brunettes, I knew he meant me. I got up and followed his orders because he had his gun pointed towards me. We walked into the room adjacent to my friends and he slammed me against one of the walls. He pressed the gun into the back of my head. There were windows on two of the walls and I could see numerous police vehicles.

“What were you talking about?!? WHY WERE YOU WHISPERING!!” he demanded. I responded with a nervous sniffle, “Nothing! We were just trying to keep each other calm.

Please don’t hurt me!!”

Then we heard a man’s voice on a loudspeaker, which was apparently Brody’s goal. The voice was saying that it knew there were hostages inside and that everyone needed to get out safely. It also stated that it wanted to give us a telephone with a line so they could communicate easier and talk with Brody to figure out exactly what was going on. He removed the gun from the back of my head and I felt a giant wave of relief rush through me. He pushed me back into the room with my friends and I stayed silent for a good while after that.

It took a little bit, but eventually Brody okayed for an officer to open the front door and set the phone inside as long as the guy didn’t try to pull anything over on him. Brody made Jackson go grab the phone, which looked more like a little black metal box more than anything. I think he made Jackson get it because Brody himself was paranoid that someone was still downstairs. Jackson came back and sat down with us and the 101

phone was left on the fourth stair of the staircase because the line wasn’t very long. The phone rang. Brody picked up and started yelling at the guy; “Are you kidding me?!? I’m not letting them out!! They go; you guys come in and get me…I’m not that fucking stupid!!” then slammed the phone down. He began pacing once more, this time mumbling to himself and swinging his gun. The phone rang again.

This time, when Brody answered he seemed to be calming down a little. He was listening to the other end and started to ask us questions and talk to us as well.

“Hey, this guy wants to know who y’all are. What’s your names?” We told Brody and he repeated them into the phone.

“He told me I have to ask if y’all are okay. Are you okay?”

We nodded and he told the man we were. He nodded as if he was responding to something the man said and then handed Jackson the phone. He was down there for a few minutes, and then Jackson told Brody they wanted to talk to me. I went to the stairwell and Brody commanded that I not tell them anything. I picked up the phone.

“Hello..?”

“Hi, is this Alyssa?” The man asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, so I’m going to ask you a series of yes or no questions and I only want you to respond with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The man on the other end had a very calming voice that told me everything was going to be okay and that he had done this before.

“Also, I want you to do your very best not to make any gestures or look somewhere that I might mention. Will you be able to do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Has Brody harmed you in any way?”

“No.”

“Your friend Jackson said that there are four of you with Brody, is that correct?”

102 Inscape 2015

“Yes.”

“Okay, this is the last question that I will ask you so that Brody doesn’t get too frustrated. It’s more of a request really.

When you return to your location and know it’s safe, I want you to try to be brave and signal out of the closest window. Do this and it will help my team to find you. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes.” And I handed Brody back the phone.

By this time, it was dark out. As soon as Brody went into another room I pulled out a flashlight that I always kept in my purse in case of emergencies. I flashed the S.O.S. signal out of the window right next to us a few times and made sure to hide it before Brody came back. To my surprise I saw a red light flashing back at me, as if to say “we see you.”

About six hours later it was finally negotiated to let Joelle and Jackson out. Jordan had been sitting in one of the closets for the majority of the time so she wouldn’t completely freak out, and I think Brody had kind of forgotten about her. About an hour later Brody said that the man on the phone wanted to talk to me again, and that he would let me go as long as I didn’t try anything stupid.

“Hey Alyssa, this is almost over, okay?” the man told me.

“Now listen carefully, and try to do this as close to what I tell you as possible…I want you to slowly open the door when we hang up. Alright?”

“Yes.” I responded.

“There will be troopers all over and there will be one on either side of the doorway when you come out. Don’t be scared when they get you, for we’re only here to help…We have a light shining on the doorway that way Brody can’t watch to see where we are. Just follow the orders on the loudspeaker and you’ll be just fine. Come when you’re ready.”

I hung up and Brody let me go. I did just as the man said; I opened the door slowly, and the men in tactical uniforms on either side of the doorway told me to slowly place my hands on my head.

A voice over the loudspeaker told me to start walking towards the light, which was probably the brightest thing that I had ever seen.

It was so bright that I couldn’t really see anything, and I barely saw the man that grabbed my arm. He just told me to run with him and 103

I did. We reached the armored vehicle where I was handcuffed, for standard protocol, and then was asked a few questions after making sure that I was okay. I saw the teams getting into a formation and was able to watch them as they entered the house to take down Brody and get Jordan out safely.

I felt so fortunate, because everyone made it out safely.

The Troop A Highway Patrol SWAT team had done their jobs accurately and efficiently. It was also a blast because it was just a training exercise.

104 Inscape 2015

Lesson Learned

Brandon Jansen

How many of you have wondered how celebrities get into such good shape so quickly when for someone like me or you it takes months maybe even a year? This has bothered me for years and I felt like one of the hardest things to do in today’s world was to lose the stubborn fat that I had gained or already had for most of my life. It just didn’t seem fair that these celebs could get into such good shape so quickly, so I decided I would start researching the subject. It’s hard to say which celebs used steroids for this matter, but it is known that some of them have. Though that’s the quick and easy solution, there are other celebs that just worked hard. An example of one of these celebs would be Hugh Jackman. His workout regimen and diet plan was about as natural as it comes to getting the body that many people dream of. To this day, he is my inspiration and motivation.

This might sound like any other person trying to convince you that losing weight is possible and you should follow my diet and workout plan, but that’s not what I want to tell you. I want to share with you how I lost 60 pounds in roughly four to five months, and then you can decide for yourself if anything is possible.

After Christmas break last school year I weighed 210 pounds at a height of five foot four inches. So as you can imagine, I was quite the little butter ball and I honestly hated myself for letting myself get that way but I was too lazy to do anything about it. I just bought bigger shirts to cover it up and avoided situations where my shirt would have to come off. The whole avoiding shirtless situations came to an end when I agreed to go on a spring break trip last year and I knew that I needed to do something quick to get rid of at least some of my fat. So roughly a month before spring break, my buddy and I decided we needed to start running.

I cringed at the idea of running at the time because I hated cardio and honestly don’t enjoy it much even to this day. But every morning until spring break we got up and ran and we still ate the 105

things we wanted just smaller portions of them. Neither of us had really bought into the whole losing weight is 80% your diet and 20% working out yet.

By the time spring break had rolled around I had lost fifteen pounds. In my opinion, this was ridiculous that I had worked that hard and only lost fifteen pounds, so after break ended I kind of gave up. I still ran on occasion but nothing too serious like I had been before, and I was able to maintain the same weight that I had lost. All of this changed one day when I was watching the new Wolverine movie with Hugh Jackman in it. I saw him and how defined his whole body was after playing an extremely scrawny and sickly character in another movie. I thought to myself how amazing that someone that’s roughly 50 years of age could get into that kind of shape naturally.

As soon as the movie was over I began researching how he did it. To my surprise he had done it all naturally with extremely hard work. So I told my dad I was going to start working out along with my full time job to attempt to get a sculpted body, like the celebs. He laughed and said that wasn’t going to happen because I actually have a job while getting a good body is their job. What he said made perfect sense and on top of that he had someone to train him and feed him the right foods, while all I had was my own motivation and myself. But then I did some thinking and a little research and found that most of his workouts came before and after his job. So he would start early in the morning at roughly five am and then go to work and finish late at night. Reading this allowed me to believe that if a celeb can do it, then I can do it.

So in May of last year I started a workout regimen where I would run early in the mornings and do a high intensity interval workout at night. This regimen was basically designed to cut fat and define the muscles, not to get bigger muscles. This worked quite well once I reached my goal of getting the high intensity workout all done in 20 minutes. That’s when I decided it was time to up the workout to the “Wolverine workout.” I would still run every morning and then I would start doing muscle-building lifts at night rather than the high intensity workouts, but I would superset every lift leaving my self very little break time, so my heart rate 106 Inscape 2015

stayed as high as possible during the whole lift.

After three months I had managed to shave off another 40 pounds and had a body fat percentage of 10%. Sadly, after this point I had hit a brick wall and couldn’t manage to lose any more.

So I decided to run and lift in the mornings, then lift and do a cardio video called Insanity at night. I thought this would surely do the trick, but I was wrong. I got into really good shape but I still couldn’t manage to lose that last bit of stubborn belly fat. In the end, I gave in and went to a nutritionist to ask what kind of diet she recommended to help me get to my goal of 8% body fat.

Her recommendation was called the Paleo Diet, which honestly sounded disgusting to me because I was such a picky eater, but I decided I was going to force my self to eat this way. This diet consisted of a lot of vegetables, fruits, and meats. The diet also restricted a lot of things such as fruits; you could only have so many fruits. Then I was told that while on this diet I couldn’t have any dairy products unless it was eggs. So this meant no milk, yogurt, etc, this was really hard for me and junk foods were all thrown out the door as well. Next the nutritionist tells me no grains or peanut butter. At this point I was freaking out because this meant no cereal now either. The things I liked to eat were almost all gone by the time I was done talking with her. But within three weeks of trying this diet I had reached my goal and I was shocked at the results, and I had lost the 60 pounds I had wanted to lose.

That day was the day I realized that the 80% diet and 20% working out statement was indeed true.

The diet is really hard to keep up here at school because our selection of food isn’t always the greatest or the healthiest, but the school does provide meals that can help you maintain your weight once you have reached your goals. Naturally when you start maintaining and eating more of the foods you love, you will gain a little weight but not much. Out of the 60 pounds I lost I have only gained 2 pounds since I have been back at school.

What I learned from this experience is that anything is possible for anyone, if you put your mind to it. Never did I ever think I would have a six-pack or the body that I had always wanted 107

and now the working out and cardio that I once hated is like my drug. They say that when you work out your body releases endorphins, which makes your body feel good. So now I like to say I’m going to get endorphanated every time I lift or run and it never fails that by the end of the workout, I’m in a much better mood.

In the end, everyone’s metabolism is different and in my case mine was like a 50 year old mans. Or it seemed that way because I decided to help or train others to reach their goals and let’s just say they reached their goals much faster than I reached mine and they didn’t change much when it came to their diet. But my point is that anyone can do it, you just have to want to achieve the impossible. For me, this is what I wanted, for you that want could be something different and I’m here to tell you that if you are determined to reach your goals then you will. Anything is possible.

108 Inscape 2015

Hugs All Around

Jeremy Sporleder

As the sun had gone down and I was done talking on the phone an aroma started filling the air. It was the scent of a roast in the pressure cooker and the smell of many different side dishes that made up a very fine home cooked meal. My mom was doing her best to cheer up my dad and for a short period of time it seemed to be working too. Only a few minutes after I had hung up the phone, my grandma called our house. Grandma only lived a half mile away from us since we’d moved to our new home built on part of our land in the country. It had been over a year now and you would think, a good reason to celebrate. However, celebration was far from what was happening. The wonderful meal was a grieving meal, not a celebratory meal.

My older brother who had been going to college elsewhere was called and asked to make a trip to come see the family and that’s when I started to realize that this was grandpa’s last night.

The war veteran who had done so much in his lifetime was brought to a halt by Parkinson’s disease and now his frail body that I, my father, and my brother had been lifting into his bed every night for a year was starting to give out. My family had stopped what they were doing and gone to my grandma’s house to help comfort her and be with my grandpa while he passed. I remained where I was to watch my little sister who was only 12 years old. She was too scared to go with the rest of my family. Before we had moved, my dad was the director of the emergency room at St. Francis Hospital.

He could recognize the raspy breathing of my grandpa just like all the other patients he had taken such gentle care of before they had passed away. The house phone rang once again and this time from grandma’s phone came my mom’s voice saying to take my little sister and come to grandma’s house to say bye to grandpa. I took my little sister and two additional boxes of lotion tissues with me, just in case. Soon after I arrived at the house, my older brother managed to get there too. I thought it was strange how he made a near 4 hour trip in only half the time…must have had something to 109

do with him driving a retired police cruiser. I didn’t think about it too much though.

About an hour had passed and the raspy, irregular breathing patterns of my grandpa started to become heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Father now stood by his side saying prayer and reading last rites. His Irish accent was a little comforting for all of us to hear. Everybody was sobbing softly under the prayers and there were already a few cleaned out boxes of tissues laying on the floor somewhere out of the way.

As prayers came to an end, Father stood and along with my grandma had to tell my grandpa who seemed to be struggling to stay with us, “Richard you can go! It’s alright you can go!”

The look on my grandma’s face alone made me stream tears, my dad wasn’t taking it any easier than I was. Grandpa stopped breathing and I waited to hear one more deep concentrated breath.

It never came. As we all felt the lifted soul of grandpa leaving the room we said our last goodbyes and made the announcement to family waiting on the phone, eager to know what was going on at midnight on a weekday during Christmas break for all the students.

My dad was the one to bravely tell his brothers the news after mom had tried to give him time to decide who it would be. This wasn’t my first encounter with death in the family but it was most definitely the worst. My two little sisters needed hugs, my grandma needed comfort, my dad needed his sons, and family needed family. Hugs all around.

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First Place Ten-Minute Play:

The Magic Shot

Lyndsey Phillips Characters: VAL: A college senior with a 4.0 GPA. She’s studying for the LSAT in hopes of getting into law school. She’s conservative and practical. She does not like change. Virgin, grossed out by the idea of sex. In this scene, she wears a long man’s shirt that looks like it swallows her as she is in Ashley’s body. Her hair should be straight.

ASHLEY: Also a college senior. She’s just hoping to pass her classes and graduate. She’s a free spirit. She likes to take things as they come, and she’s not afraid to do something outside of her comfort zone. In this scene she’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants as she is in Val’s body. Her hair should be a little messy as she has just woken up.

NICK: A guy Ashley and Val met at the bar last night. He came home with Ashley. He’s soft-spoken, but goes after what he wants.

*Note: minimal amounts of makeup should be used since the characters have just woken up. Just enough to make sure their faces are defined in the stage lighting.

Background: Val and Ashley went out for a night of drinking and dancing. Ashley brought someone (Nick) she met at the bar home.

But somehow the two have switched bodies. Now they have to figure out how to switch back.

*Note: dialogue will be as follows:

VAL: Val is speaking from within Ashley’s body ASHLEY: Ashley is speaking from within Val’s body

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Scene: Today. Val’s bedroom. Bed R. Val has a desk L stacked with textbooks, notebooks, and a coffee cup. Val’s backpack sits next to her desk on the floor. There is a nightstand on the SR side of her bed with an alarm clock, a book, and small items. Door leading to the rest of apartment L. SL there is a wall dividing the bedroom from a small hallway.

(At Rise Ashley (in Val’s body) is asleep in bed.)

VAL: (screaming from off L) ASHLEEEEEY!!!! (Ashley rolls over in bed) Ashley! (Ashley places pillow over head. Val enters L.) Ashley, get up. NOW! ASHLEY: What time is it?

VAL: It doesn’t matter. We have a problem! Get up!

ASHLEY: (trying to get Val to go away, with a yawn) You’ll figure it out (Val pulls covers off of Ashley) Hey! (sitting up. Shocked when she sees herself) That’s uncalled f--VAL: Yeah! PROBLEM! ASHLEY: Wh--- (pointing back and forth between herself and Val) tha—but—how--- I --- you --- huh VAL: God, Ashley. Stop babbling and -ASHLEY: How did I get into your body? (stands) VAL: (sarcastically) Cause I obviously know the answer to that ASHLEY: Well, I didn’t do it VAL: Neither of us did it, you idiot…. Something had to have happened.

ASHLEY: What do you mean something happened?

VAL: Well, if you haven’t noticed, we’re kinda in different bodies.

That’s what happened ASHLEY: (defensively) I got that. Thanks.

VAL: Stop asking dumb questions and help me figure this out. We had to have done something that caused the switch.

NICK: (off L) Hey Ashley ASHLEY: Oh, God! It’s Nick! You have to go talk to him!

VAL: Me? Why do I have to talk to him? You’re the one who brought him home.

ASHLEY: And you’re the one in my body! (grabbing Val’s shoulder) Don’t blow this for me. I REALLY like him.

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VAL: You REALLY like him? You’ve known him for twelve hours!

ASHLEY: Ever heard of love at first sight?

VAL: That’s a bunch of bull shit NICK: Ashley? Are you in there? (cracks door) ASHLEY: Come in (Nick enters, Val turns to face him) VAL: (awkwardly) Hey Nick NICK: Hey Ashley ASHLEY: He—(stopping when she realizes she’s in Val’s body) NICK: (stage whisper) Could we maybe go somewhere a little more private?

VAL: (quickly) I can’t. (long pause) I mean, Val needs me right now. Maybe later?

NICK: Oh, okay. Well I’ll get going then.

ASHLEY: Stay! (beat) We’ll make breakfast or something.

NICK: Listen, let’s do this again soon. (leans in to kiss who he thinks is Ashley. Val moves head out of the way to avoid the kiss.

Ashley kicks the back of Val’s shin signaling to kiss him. She continues to avoid the kiss) Okay… well, I’m gonna…

ASHLEY: You can hang out on the couch. Watch whatever you want. We’ll just be a few minutes.

NICK: (a little weirded out) Cool… (exits. From this point on you should see Nick pacing up and down the hallway SL. At points he can put his ear to the door to try to listen to the girls. He does not need to remain on stage at all times.)

ASHLEY: What the hell?

VAL: What?

ASHLEY: Why didn’t you kiss him? I told you not to ruin this for me. Now he probably thinks I’m some kinda crazy-VAL: What did he mean by (trying to imitate Nick’s voice) “let’s do this again” (pause, realization) Did you sleep with him?

ASHLEY: (like it’s obvious) Well… yeah VAL: (cringing) Oh God! I feel gross!

ASHLEY: Why? VAL: Because I’m in the body of someone who’s had sex and (pause. Grossed out) uhh! Did you shower?

ASHLEY: (sarcastically) Yeah, because I had time to do that in 113

the middle of this switching bodies escapade. Just because you’re waiting for marriage doesn’t mean everyone is.

VAL: (still grossed out) Look, let’s just figure this out. I’m not any more excited about it than you are.

ASHLEY: Well what the hell are we suppose to do? I have a cute boy on the couch who thinks you’re me, and you who won’t even play it off right?

VAL: Will you stop thinking about the damn boy? We have bigger issues right now.

ASHLEY: Alright, how do we figure this out?

VAL: What did we do last night?

ASHLEY: We went to Pluto’s VAL: (getting upset) I know that! I mean what did we do last night that could have caused this? (long pause, both girls begin pacing) ASHLEY: (light bulb) I slept with Nick VAL: We’ve been over this already.

ASHLEY: No, I mean. That’s the thing that switched us.

VAL: You’re an idiot.

ASHLEY: What else could it have been? (Val glares at Ashley and then continues pacing, thinking very hard.)

NICK: (entering) Hey Ashley, I’m gonna get going. I have – ASHLEY: No, stay! (Nick looks at who he thinks is Val strangely) We’ll just be a few more minutes (Nick exits and goes off stage, not to the hallway. Val still pacing and thinking. Ashley looks to Val and then starts to exit) VAL: What are you doing?

ASHLEY: I’ll be right back.

VAL: We have a huge crisis right now, and you’re going to go talk to Nick? God, aren’t you a piece of work?

ASHLEY: I’m not going to talk to Nick. I need to go get something (exits) VAL: Uhhh! (Pacing. Murmuring under her breath about last night. Not making any progress she throws herself onto the bed.

Ashley enters with a cigarette and a lighter.)

VAL: (getting off the bed) What the hell are you doing?

ASHLEY: (trying to light cigarette) You were stressing me out. I needed a cigarette.

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VAL: (cross to Ashley) No! Absolutely not! (taking cigarette from Ashley) ASHLEY: What the hell?

VAL: You are not smoking in my body! No way!

NICK: (off L) You girls doing okay in there?

ASHLEY: Shit! I forgot he was still here. (yelling off) Yeah! We’re good! Just a couple minutes.

VAL: Do you know what this stuff does to someone?

ASHLEY: (trying to get the cigarette back) It’s just a cigarette. It’s not going to kill me.

VAL: I’m not concerned about you. I’m concerned about me! And you’re in my body!

ASHLEY: God! It’s one cigarette.

VAL: And that’s too many ASHLEY: Stop being such a goody two shoes! (pulling cigarette pack from pocket to grab another one) They help me think.

VAL: (taking pack) God! You’re a piece of work!

ASHLEY: You aren’t any better yourself! Get off your damn high horse!

VAL: Can we just get back to the problem? There has to be a way to get us out of this.

ASHLEY: It happened while we were sleeping, right? (speaking loudly. During this Val points at door as to remind Ashley that Nick is still in the apartment) So we just have to go back to bed, and we’ll switch back.

VAL: (shaking her head) That’s not gonna work.

ASHLEY: How do you know?

VAL: (pause) Alright, what did we do when we first got to Pluto’s?

ASHLEY: (proud of herself for remembering last night) You ordered a shot and I got a martini!

VAL: Okay, so we were at the bar at the beginning of the night (medium pause. Thinking and speaking to herself loud enough for Ashley to hear her) So what happened that was out of the ordinary?

ASHLEY: A guy hit on you! – me? – us?

VAL: (not yelled, but with annoyance) Shut up!

ASHLEY: Just answering the question.

VAL: (starting to get angry) Okay. So what happened out of the 115

ordinary that could have actually made us switch? (the girls begin going over their night alone. Each using some way of recapping the night with their body (counting on fingers, scratching head) and mumbling to themselves. Ashley sits down on bed. Val continues to pace. This should take no more than 15 seconds) ASHLEY: This is useless.

VAL: You’re right. (beat) Weird.

NICK: (entering) Look, Ashley. I really have to get going. I’ll call you.

ASHLEY: I promise we’ll just be a few more minutes. Please don’t go.

NICK: (still confused as to why Val is talking to him and not Ashley) Really, it’s not a big deal. I’ll call ya.

VAL: He’ll call you. (Nick, puzzled. opens his mouth to say something. Can’t come up with anything and starts to exit) ASHLEY: Really. I promise this time. Just two minutes. (Nick exits) ASHLEY: What did we do after getting our drinks?

VAL: We ran into Patrick, nothing out of the ordinary. Then we— We – ASHLEY: Nick hit on me! – you VAL: (disgusted) oh yeah. And then I sat down at the table to read, and you went off dancing with him ASHLEY: Why do you always do homework when we go out?

Why can’t you be normal like the rest of us, and go out to have fun?

VAL: I’m studying for the LSAT. It’s a lot harder than you think.

At least I go out… and I always come dance with you at some point.

ASHLEY: Yeah, for like twenty minutes. What’s the point of going somewhere to dance for twenty minutes?

VAL: Because --- (wanting to get back to the problem at hand) Let’s focus!

ASHLEY: And the most I’ve ever seen you drink is two shots and that was last night.

VAL: That’s it!

ASHLEY: What?

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VAL: The Magic Shot ASHLEY: What?

VAL: You know, the shots Nick gave us last night. The one he called “The Magic Shot” (Ashley isn’t remembering) The one you forced me to take with you.

ASHLEY: (Remembering forcing Val to take a shot) Yeah! It must’ve been that.

VAL: It was probably that sparkly stuff in our drinks ASHLEY: I thought that was edible glitter (Val glares at her) VAL: (walking to door L) I swear you’re the dumbest person I know. (yelling out door) NIIIIICK! (blackout)

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Young Writer’s Day 2014

On Thursday, October 30, 2014, Central Methodist University’s English Department hosted its Second Annual Young Writer’s Day. Students from Fayette, Boonville, Slater, Higbee, and Smithton were invited to participate in a day of creative writing.

Students were placed into groups and each group participated in three 50-minute sessions.

Three-Minute Plays; Flash Fiction; and Poetry.

Students were introduced to material from each genre, then the rest of the time was theirs to create a work in that genre. The three best works from each genre were awarded certificates and books. In addition, the first place winners were featured in Inscape.

Sigma Tau Delta was instrumental in the success of the second Young Writer’s Day. They helped with every aspect of the event, including judging the contests. Sigma Tau Delta strives to “provide, through its local chapters, cultural stimulation on college campuses and promote interest in literature and the English language in surrounding communities;” as well as to “foster all aspects of the discipline of English, including literature, language, and writing.” The CMU chapter of Sigma Tau Delta succeeded with Young Writer’s Day.

The English department and Sigma Tau Delta are proud to present the first place winners and their work:

Poetry: Jessie Dias of Higbee, Missouri

Flash Fiction: Austin Andrews of Boonville, Missouri

Three-Minute Play: Christian Burns and Bryce Fuemmeler

both of Boonville, Missouri Kavita S. Hatwalkar, PhD. Assistant Professor of English Central Methodist University

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Young Writer’s Day Poetry Individuality

Jessie Dias On the floor of a jungle With canopy above Shines one speck of light Prominent in the darkness Perfect in its loneliness Likewise, On the surface of Earth Stands 7 billion humans YOU ARE ONLY ONE! Be Yourself.

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Young Writer’s Day Flash Fiction

Clove Hitch

Austin Andrews

The words echoed through his hopeless mind, “You loser, spaz, why would I ever be with you?” Tears began to swell in his eyes but he holds them back. He knows what must be done. Staring at the big oak tree at the old Henderson House, he bites his tongue and begins to climb. In his mind he sees memories fade in-andout. He thougth to himself, “I thought she liked me, I thought she though I was special!” Tears began to run down his face. The flood gates couldn’t hold up. About a fourth of the way up he sits on a branch. Aloud he says, “This is as good a spot as any.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a perfectly made noose. Joseph tied the other end of the noose to the branch. It was a perfect Clove Hitch, just like his dad had taught him. Joseph stood up on the branch and closed his eyes, “It’ll all be over soon” he said to himself. Joseph stepped off into the air, and never found his way back.

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Young Writer’s Day Three-Minute Play

New York Blues

Christian Burns and Bryce FUemmeler Setting: On the streets of New York City, a cold and bitter day in mid-December. Jessica Richards, daughter of the mayor, is disguised in a wig and clothes and walking in the street. She hears the sounds of a guitar and follows it.

David: (Singing and playing the guitar) Hey there Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?

Random Man: It’s cold in New York City. That’s how it is.

The crowd of people that pass by laugh. David, embarrassed, stops playing.

Jessica sees this and feels bad for him.

Jessica: No, keep playing.

David: Do you like it?

Jessica: It’s delightful. (Smiles) How long have you been into music?

David: As long as I can remember, at least 25 years. I used to be fairly well known around here. Until the mayor had a say at least.

Jessica: The mayor?

Jessica looks uncomfortable knowing David is unaware of her ties to the mayor.

David: Yeah. I’ve also been interested in politics. A few years back, I thought about running for mayor, and like I said- I was pretty popular. I had a good shot at it. The damn Mayor Richards wouldn’t allow it though. He killed my political and musical career just for attempting to run.

Jessica: Oh my goodness. Are you David Washington?

David: The same.

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Jessica: I remember when Dad- I mean Mayor Richards- did that.

I’m so sorry.

David: Did you say “dad”?

Jessica: No, IDavid: You’re Jessica Richards, aren’t you? Mayor’s daughter?

Jessica slowly takes off her wig.

Jessica: Yes, but before you judge- hear me out. I am his daughter, but I hate it. I hate the spotlight. The only way I can even walk in the city is with this stupid wig.

Jessica and David continue to talk about their lives and their strange connection to one another. They decide to join as friends and begin their journey to upstart David’s musical platform.

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About The Editors Kelly Jo Davis

Kelly Jo is a Junior English Education major from Slater, Missouri. She is the Fellowship Vice President in Alpha Phi Omega, a member of Sigma Tau Delta, and works as a library assistant, student ambassador, and a data entry technician.

Goals for Inscape: Her goal was for Inscape to grow and include new topics, for the publication to be more known about across campus, and to gain more student, faculty, and staff involvement. She is highly impressed by the numbers this year.

Hobbies: She enjoys writing, reading, taking photos, spending time with friends and families, and riding motorcycles in her spare time.

Courtney Warford

Courtney is a Junior English major from Pattonsburg, Missouri. She is the president of Sigma Tau Delta, secretary of Kappa Delta Pi, a member of Alpha Gamma Psi and is a fomer member of the Central Methodist University Eagle Softball Team. She also works for the Office of Student Development as a Resident Assistant and works in the Admissions Office as a telecounselor.

Goal for Inscape: Her goal for Inscape was to have an increased number of submissions, more people interested in the publication, and to celebrate the 40 year milestone with style.

Hobbies: She enjoys spending time with her dogs: Ranger, Lilly, and Rascal, watching softball and other sports, reading, writing, creating different forms of art, and being with her family.

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Contributor Biographies Jacqueline Anderson: Jacqueline is a junior Early Childhood Education major from Slater, Missouri.

Austin Andrews: Austin is from Boonville, Missouri.

Geofrey Bilabaye: Geofrey is from Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania and is a senior Pre-Law and Computer Science major.

Bailey Brown: Bailey is a senior English Education major from Joplin, Missouri. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta and is the Layout and Design editor of The Collegian.

Christian Burns: Christian is from Boonville, Missouri.

Keonna Bush: Keonna is a freshman Criminal Justice major from Fayette, Missouri.

Shawna Chrisler: Shawna is a senior Vocal Performance major from St. Clair, Missouri Desiray Crowe-Boicourt: Desiray is a junior Biology major from Versailles, Missouri.

Jessie Dias: Jessie is from Higbee, Missouri.

Alexis Eckhoff: Alexis is a junior Criminal Justice and Psychology major from Houstonia, Missouri.

Kelsey Forqueran: Kelsey is a senior Communications and Political Science major from Malta Bend, Missouri. She is involved in theatre and Alpha Phi Omega.

Danielle Franklin: Danielle is a sophomore English Literature major from Oak Grove, Missouri. She is a member of Alpha Gamma Psi, Alpha Lambda Delta, Sigma Tau Delta, and Conservatory Singers.

Bryce Fuemmeler: Bryce is from Boonville, Missouri.

Levi Gerke: Levi is a junior Vocal and Piano Performance major from Pilot Grove, Missouri. He is active in Opera Workshop, Chorale, Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia, SNATS, and Church Street Boys.

Alice Hartley: Alice is a senior Biology major from Russellville, Missouri. She is a member of Tri-Beta and Gamma Sigma Epsilon.

Mackenzie Hustead: Mackenzie is a sophomore Secondary Education major from Edina, Missouri. She is a member of the Spirit Squad and Sigma Pi Alpha.

Brandon Jansen: Brandon is a junior Mathematics major from Springdale, Arkansas. He is a member of the baseball team and the Swingin’ Eagles dance club.

Adam Jenkins: Adam is the CMU Director of Admissions from Rugby, North Dakota.

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Parker Johnson: Parker is a Junior Computer Science major and Music minor from Richmond, Missouri. Parker is the secretary and webmaster of Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia, the Academic Chair and Secretary of Chi Delta, and is a member of Alpha Phi Omega and Alpha Psi Omega. He is involved in theatre and works for campus services.

Connor Kenaston: Connor is the Global Mission Fellow at the Center for Faith and Service. He graduated from Yale University in 2014. He is currently a Central Methodist staff member who is from Lewisburg, West Virginia.

Kaitlyn Klapperich: Kaitlyn is a senior Communications and Sociology major from Wasilla, Alaska. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the Collegian, Co-President of Core Support & ALLiance, and is a member of Sigma Tau Delta.

Kristopher Kuoppamӓki: Kristopher is a senior Marketing and Advertising major from Marionville, Missouri. He is a member of the Track and Field team.

Max McKinney: Max is a freshman English major from Fayette, Missouri. He is involved in band.

Kyle Nolawski: Kyle is a senior Elementary Education major from Versailles, Missouri. He is a member of the golf team, S-MSTA, and Kappa Delta Pi. Lyndsey Phillips: Lyndsey is a sophomore English and Theatre major from Bloomsdale, Missouri. She is involved in Alpha Phi Omega, Alpha Psi Omega, Sigma Tau Delta, theatre, and Young Americans for Liberty.

Michaela Pomajzl: Michaela is a freshman Business major from Sedalia, Missouri.

Abby Ruessler: Abby is a freshman English Education major from Perryville, Missouri. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta and the softball team.

Jeremy Sporleder: Jeremy is a sophomore Criminal Justice major and Psychology minor from Marshall, Missouri. He plays Men’s Soccer.

Emily Schultz: Emily is a senior Elementary Education major from Bloomington, Illinois. She is involved in Sigma Alpha Iota, Kappa Delta Pi, MSTA, and band.

James Tarr: James is a senior Elementary Education major from Moberly, Missouri.

Alyssa Webb: Alyssa is a junior Criminal Justice and Communications major from Grain Valley, Missouri. She is the president of Pi Lambda Alpha.

Denise Weigand: Denise is a junior Physics major from Weatherby, Missouri. She is involved in Central Methodist’s concert band.

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