Manifest February 2017 Volume VI Issue II Alpharetta High School 3595 Webb Bridge Road Alpharetta, GA, 30005
This publication is a forum for students to openly express themselves. All art, literature, and photography was submitted by students of Alpharetta High School and selected by a committee of the creative arts magazine students before being accepted. The pieces accepted into the magazine represent the diverse views and opinions of the creators themselves. These works do not in any way, shape, or form represent the opinions of the Alpharetta High School administration, staff, or county.
staff Claire Owens Co-Editor-in-Chief
Courtney Stuart Co-Editor-in-Chief
Emily Williams Content Editor
Shaolynn Betts Copy Editor
Zoe Genet Layout Editor
Audrey Zermuehlen
Catherine Sun
Katie McGivney
Opal Sivan
Joshua Ng
Mackenzie Carpenter
AJ Hasan
Jules Mead
Connor Zahariades
Vinit Hedaoo
Briana Pope
Brenna Alford
Marie Johnson
Maia Tau
Rachel Calvis
Lexie Bryant
Table of contents Human Spirit Letter From the Editors Candy Land A Beautiful Lie and a Painful Truth Thoughtcrime Same Old, Same Old Stars Oh Child Waves of Grace Camille J. Feltus What Lies Within Into the Grey Born and Raised on It Puzzle My Brain During Math I Have Trouble Sleeping Pins and Needles Lights, Camera, Action The Messenger Always Been Told Aging Intimate Liberation Overwhelmed Aftermath Competition Soul Surrender And Weeping Lines Weeping Binds Revolution Distress Little Red Ansel Mountain Safety Net
7 8 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 33 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 43 45
Eye Blank Page Static Screens Birth of a Ghost Trapped The Dandelion Waltz The Fault Within Our Stars Reverse Amnesia The Void Shattered Panoramas of Winter Life Is Not Worth Killing Humans Are Like Cars Mixed Emotions Lyn’s Crescent Moon Sunday Mourning Lie Everything Comes to an End The Little Bird Blurred Life Deluded Headless Painter The Wanderer Stung Red Two Halves Life and Death Paper Wings Once Upon A Time The End Open When You Want to See Your Growth Find Lost Blue Escape Our Fault Third Eye Blind Watching You The Loop Thought Crime Detrimental Time Metaphorical Kafkaesque Firmament Hall of the Mind A Light in the Dark Gone
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 65 66 67 69 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 93 93
A Letter from the editors...
A
s Editors-in-Chief, we’ve been supervising our new members. After having a sea of new faces to work with, we weren’t sure what was going to happen. However, after successfully publishing our first magazine, RE: Virtue, we gained momentum coming into this next issue. The new staff has gradually but surely come into their roles. In the previous issue, we discussed Id, the more carnal-minded state of human behavior. Remember the analogy of a person shoving a slice of pizza in their mouth without a care for social etiquette? In RE: Volition, our focus has shifted to the Freudian archetype of Ego. The person knows what they want, but they also keep in mind what they should do based on societal norms. Yes, the pizza is delicious, and you want it now, but table manners forbids you from shoving the entire pizza
Human Spirit Amanda Wang
pie in your mouth. So you compromise. This issue explores the balance between Id and Superego: how you can maintain an the “ideal” you, and whether this “ideal” you is good, bad, or neither. We are exploring the balance between who you want to be and who society wants you to be. The word choice for RE: Volition has two important components. First, it begins with the abbreviation “RE” which represents a response. We found it ironic to incorporate the email format into the title of a magazine issue that debates the balance between a progressing, advancing society and the most basic human form. This references the message we are using to address society as a whole. The second part of the name is the word “volition”, specifically chosen because it highlighted a choice that we all have, and experience, every day: the choice of how to present ourselves. It all comes down to what we want to be and what we think others
want us to be. Aspects of RE: Volition are seen in a piece that incorporates both writing and photography called Blurred Life, courtesy of Mackenzie Carpenter. She captures the blurred lines between these two aspects of life, what we want and what we “must” be, and how messy things can get differentiating between the two. The Wanderer, a short poem by CBZ, shows the duality of the Ego, with its Id and Superego aspects. Not only does it highlight the balance between these two ideas, it shows the people taking action and deciding who and how they want be, taking a step in their own personal revolution. Volition is about action, choosing between two sides and finding a healthy balance. Follow the arrows that point you in the direction you see fit. There is no knowing until action has been made. So we call to you, the readers, to go and venture forth. Find your balance and take action.
Re:
I
woke with a sudden jolt, confused as to where I was. Looking around at my surroundings, I assumed that I was in a meadow. Gazing at the bright, blue sky, not a single cloud was in sight. A vibrant rainbow stretched across the heavens. I could have sworn that the sun was smiling at me. Grassy plains and shrubbery extended as far as the eye could see. The grass was teeming with wildlife and bright, eye-catching flowers. Even with such energy aswarm in the forestry, there were no other signs of life. “Where am I?” I asked aloud as I gained consciousness. “Don’t you know?” A voice called from behind me. I turned around to find a shadowy figure on the horizon. “This is Paradise, the happiest place on Earth. The sun always shines on
Candy Land this side of the world.” They reached a hand out to help me up. “Where is everyone?” I questioned the strange figure. “Here, let me show you,”
“Sure, this place looks like fun.,” I responded. Suddenly, the figure struck the back of my head. I fell to the ground as a wave of agony hit me and the painful sensation overwhelmed me.
at was now replaced with a steel fence and barbed wire. Behind the fence stood a dusty and dirty prison camp. The stormy, dark sky fit the gloomy atmosphere. Convicts were running around, screaming in agony as police officers brutally beat them with their iron batons. The sounds of crunches and cracks filled the air, spraying blood all over the rusty, barbed fence. Prisoners left and right were they answered as they Cheers of joy from the vilcollapsing with their last grabbed my hand and led lage slowly became distorted dying breath, and blood me. as I continued clutching my soaked the concrete ground. We ended up on a hilltop head. Slowly, the pain subRotting corpses littered the overseeing a candy village. sided and was replaced with ground, making it imposI looked down upon the a wave of dizziness. The sible to walk in a straight village to find every villager cheers turned into screams line without tripping on a joyfully frolicking along the of terror as my dizziness severed limb. Corrupt pocandy-coated streets. Cheers intensified. lice officers put their walkie of happiness filled the air as “Get up,” The voice talkies on standby, awaiting children ran up and down echoed as I was violently the next command to beat a the gingerbread blocks. jerked to my feet. Opennew victim. “Do you want to join ing my eyes, the gruesome “Come on,” the voice them?” the mysterious figsights shocked me. The vilspoke. “Join them. Join the ure inquired. lage I had once been staring revolution.”
“This is Paradise, the happiest place on Earth. The sun always shines on this side of the world.”
Joshua Ng
12
A Beautiful Lie and a Painful Truth Lior Shefler
thoughtcrime Lindsay Meads
14
Same Old, Same Old For someone that goes through the same thing everyday, There sure are a plentiful amount of thoughts going through your head... It’s funny that everything might seem the same, Yet there is always something that’s a little off… I wonder if anyone else feels this way? I wonder if anyone else is sick of it too… Maybe things will change; maybe they won’t. Maybe they have. Only time will tell... Why not take action and make the change? After all, things never change on their own!
Vinit Hedaoo
Stars
Jules Mead 16
Oh Child Oh, child, what happened to your happiness? Where is your joy? What happened to your ongoing laughter? Where is our innocent baby boy? When did you stop seeing the world as just a big, beautiful place? When did you notice the ways in which the world identifies and discriminates against race? When did you begin to conform to the roles of men and women that were set by society? When did you change your interests and ways of dress? Did they tell you that you weren’t good enough? Is that why you smile less? When did the stereotypes consume your mind? Why did you stop showing others your natural love and affection? When did you become so afraid of society’s rejection? When you were born and first opened your eyes, you were oblivious to all of society’s conceptual elements. You were you: free willed and without constraints. You saw love as love, and you saw people as people. Oh, child, I’m asking you, when did your views change?
Kamryn Lacy
Waves of Grace Logan Smith 18
Lost Ones For the Lost Ones: I know, I know You feel confused everyday Confused about yourself Confused about love Confused about life It’s understandable especially living in the Era of technology. We see memes about Genders, Love, and Materialism; making a mold that most people can’t fit Making girls believe acting, dressing, or being “this” way is wrong or right Making boys believe that being sensitive is going to make him unworthy Making extraordinary people feel uncomfortable in their skin or unable to love who they want But, why does Society have to place their input on your life and what you do with it? Well, you don’t have to care YOU control your life and what you do with it and you can also be whoever you want to be! Just be proud and love yourself I love you, Camille J. Feltus
Camille J. Feltus
What Lies Within
Shaolynn Betts
20
Into the Grey
Shaolynn Betts
Born and Raised on It We were born and raised on the idea that it was our fault; that we somehow asked for it. We were born and raised on covering our shoulders and knees in fear of the worst. We were born and raised on getting rid of our individuality so that we wouldn’t be a “problem.” We were born and raised on the idea that we can be and are viewed as nothing more than objects. We were born and raised on the idea that we should be silent and not complain about our struggles. Because “it’s so much better than it was before.”
Courtney Stuart 22
What makes a puzzle, a puzzle? the pieces? the picture? the person putting it together?
Puzzle
What makes a book a book? the pages? the story? the characters? What makes a human, a human? the limbs? the voice? the heart? What makes life, life? the people? the animals? the good? the bad? I could answer, but isn’t what makes a puzzle a puzzle the questions?
Mackenzie Carpenter
My Brain During Math
Niamhy West 24
I Have Trouble Sleeping I have trouble sleeping... My parents attribute this to the book beside my bed. They say, “You can’t fall asleep with all those words in your head.” But they don’t understand books are filled with more Than cliche monologues and allusions to folklore. As I lift up the page and the book’s spine creaks, My world fills with rain and the roof starts to leak. I grab up the book, intent to sweep water away When suddenly the storm leaves and night turns to day. Desert air bakes my skin as I traverse a lonely plain Of sandy dunes and empty space, a treasure to obtain. My feet leave the ground and fly up into space; I stare down at the sky below, the sun reflected on my face. The sky morphs from blue to black as the stars envelope me Until I’m tired and close my eyes and wake to late lunch tea. A cat-eyed creature and a deranged hatter sit at the table too, But before I eat, I lose my seat and am transported anew. I traverse the horizon on Apollo’s flaming chariot, with the second star to my right. I’ll keep on soaring across the world as long as man can write Or at least until my parents feel I ought to turn out my light.
Claire Owens
Pins and Needles
Emily Williams 26
Lights, Camera, Action “Why am I fighting for this? What’s the point?” You begin to ask yourself. It seems you are alone in your cause as society’s torment begins to slip in and Discouragement slowly takes effect. No, you can’t let this happen; It can’t end like this! It’s show time: Lights, camera, action! Everyone’s watching. Now let’s make a scene.
Joshua Ng
The Messenger Shivering in the night, All alone but without a fright, He continues on with all his might As he travels toward the city of light, Moving to a great height. As the cold winds blow, He shall not slow For he carries precious cargo All the way through the snow.
toward the city of light, moving to a great height
The messenger, he travels on Through the mountain until dawn. Slowly, he moves from pylon to pylon. Struggling like a fawn, He presses on.
C.B.Z. 28
Always Been Told Flower crowns and dial tones, That’s what we’ve always been told. Running down these backstreet homes, That’s what we’ve always been told. Flashin’ lights, rock band shows, That’s what we’ve always been told.
And they’re always shamin’, blamin’ us all, And we found our way, right down this hall. Where heaven lies and angels die, The pits of Hell are burnin’ bright Just like that light behind that lie.
Ellis Greenberg
Aging
Adam Emroe
30
IntimatE Liberation I jolted awake in the dim light, feeling uncomfortably strange. The rusty springs in my bed creaked as I shifted my position. I desperately needed some sleep, and in an effort to get some, I shut my eyes. But something was off; I sensed a presence. I cracked open my eyelids, and I saw a blurry figure inching towards me. Whatever it was, it was obvious that it didn’t want to be seen. This applied to me as well; I hoped that it also perceived that I was asleep. I had a notion that it would leave me alone if I appeared to be less of a threat. But more than that, I was stiff,
frozen with fear that was filling my being. The adrenaline rush, however, caused tremors that I tried to suppress. The inscrutable figure crept across the floor, a foggy mass of life with no certain color nor shape. Was my bed vibrating? Or perhaps I was falling...falling. A sense of terror and dread intensified by the second. The figure advanced, closer still, and carefully studied my face. I tried to shut my eyes. I could not bear to observe it, could not bear to gaze at it and wonder what its intentions were. I could not move my body; I could not shout for help. I
was helplessly frozen—any movement of my body was impossible as if I had lost control of my muscles and nerves. It leaned over and seemingly inspected me. Would I still be alive by the time this was over? I had to do something, or I could be trapped in this phase forever. I focused on trying to break free of my body’s detachment. My bed vibrated faster and faster, and my heart drummed along to match the rhythm. The intruder leaned in even closer and cut through the yellow lamplight, and the cold, misty proximity between us was no more
than a finger’s width. Something glinted in the dim, lazy haze, so immaterial, yet so near and real that I lay bewildered and in ach-
And it whispered again, and again, until I finally understood. It was telling me of my contempt, the story of my hatred towards
sons, and I had mine. Our paths could no longer cross, but our past could not be forgotten…or forgiven. But now, suddenly, I
ing, pounding fear. I wished desperately to be anywhere but here. It finally closed the sliver of distance between us and faintly whispered in my ear something I could not decipher. I struggled to comprehend it, heart beating wildly, but to my ears it seemed to be in another language.
my enemies, the burden of the grudges on my shoulders. No longer, it told me. This was my weakness, my insecurity. But I could not let them go. I feared that they would stay with me for eternity. But they too were people, both fearful and fearsome. They had their rea-
saw them as the people who had built me up, who had strengthened me. And even if they didn’t deserve forgiveness, I deserved peace. And so I let it go. No longer. The figure, its purpose fulfilled, contently faded away until it was nothing but a patch on my heart.
“I feared that they would stay with me for eternity”
Khadeeja S. 32
Overwhelmed. Look right; see the locked door Look left; see clothes that were never worn Look up; can’t understand why there couldn’t be more Look down; my body curled on the bathroom floor
Maia Tau Competition Nus Iretac
Aftermath. After the end, I see more clear After the end, I am the one that steers After the end, my time is no longer near It is now, and I exclaim in cheer
Maia Tau
34
Soul Surrender
Emily Williiams
And
And I know that I’m not that “perfect one” And I’ll always be your second choice And I promised “forever” as friends, if not more, Yet every night I keep missing your voice And I go around and around in endless rhymes And I can’t help but smile and cry Because I promised myself I wouldn’t be foolish enough To believe you’re the “love of my life” And I know you’re not perfect; I don’t want you to be I just want to be there by your side, And I’d give anything to see you smile and laugh Even if you will never be “mine” And I’m sorry for lying and saying “I’m fine,” But it never was my choice to make For you have “bigger and better and greater” ahead While I’m stuck in the dust of your wake And I know that I’m not that “perfect one,” But I’m here if you ever come home, And I’ll keep that “forever” for as long as I live Whenever you feel all alone And I go around and around in endless rhymes, And I’ll say it whenever you need, For since I met you I’ve known in my heart You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.
Marion Lynn 36
wEEPING LINES
Weeping Binds Weeping binds, People to find, There is no mind. To waiting ties, Meeting lies, The weeping lines.
Marie Johnson
38
distress Akila
revolution Adam Emroe
40
little
red
daisy wythers
M
ichael opened the door to the apartment. A shiver ran down his spine, although he was unable to decipher the reason. It was quiet, and in the background he could hear the sounds of the city intruding through the walls. Though their apartment was toward the top of the building, even they weren’t impervious to the distractions of daily life. “So how was your day,” he asked, settling down on the bed. She was reading a book and did not stop to acknowledge him. He sighed. He’d been with her for several years, supporting her emotional ups and downs, and she’d reciprocated by tending to his day-today needs. But recently, he felt as though he was continually propping her up, and feared that he would soon crack under the pressure and do something he’d regret later.
“Red?” “Yeah? Sorry, the book was getting good.” She said, though her eyes did not waver from the page, seeming now even more focused on the twelve-point font, turning the pages every twenty seconds. In all fairness, the book was getting to the pivotal point. Call it bad timing, but her book was getting rather interesting; she was actually enjoying it. “I asked you how your day went.” “It was alright,” she sighed. “How was yours?” They were going through the motions, but did not attempt to remedy their plight, because why try to piece together a shattered mirror? “I had trouble with a client, but we pushed the negotiations, and he finally caved in. The investments we’ve made are looking pretty good.” “That’s good,” She said, not paying attention, back to reading
her book. The main character was about to die, but she was confident that he would pull through in the end. He always did. “Do you want to go out and do something? I think there is another superhero-slash-action movie out. You love those.” “This book is getting really good. Maybe tomorrow.” A page flipped again. A movie meant leaving the apartment, and she definitely wasn’t in the mood. She had already put on her pajama pants and was extremely comfortable and relaxed. She’d spent most of her life stressing over this or that, whether she would be able to put food on the table for her little sister, so why couldn’t she just read her book and relax in peace? She’d grown comfortable. Why was he trying to take that away from her? “Are you sure? I’m game if you are.”
“Maybe some other time.” A quiet enveloped the room, cloaking the two in deafening silence. The tectonic plates that made up their world were starting to shift, cracking and moving. They clashed up against each other, both completely unyielding. Mountains and valleys were formed, shaping the landscape of their relationship. So much of this happened, it seemed as though only jagged, barren wastelands were left where there were once beautiful forests. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. No response. A page was turned. “Red?” “What?” she asked, not even looking away from her book. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He sighed and crossed his arms as the room fell silent again. “You didn’t even say hi to me when I walked in, and I haven’t seen you all day,” he said. “I barely even got a hug and a kiss.” “Sorry,” she said, putting the book down long enough to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. “What was that? That is not what I meant, and you know it,” he said, running a hand through his hair, making strands fly in all different directions. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he sighed. “I’m really trying here, and you aren’t putting in any effort. Look, we need to talk about how things are right now, because honestly I can’t handle this much longer.”
“Michael,” she muttered again, “not right now. I can’t do this right now.” Another page turns. “No, we are going to talk about this soon, or I am walking out of that door.” Her hand that was poised to turn the next page stopped before placing the book down. The bookmark that held the page was ripped and torn, weathered with time. “Fine,” she snaps with a steely look. “You want to give me an ultimatum? Well, you know how I really feel?” The anger in her eyes dissipated and was replaced with exhaustion. “I am just so tired,” she said, brushing her auburn hair out of her face and behind her ear before pushing it back to where it was in the first place. “I am so tired of this, this everything.” The air conditioning unit sputtered back to life in the background, moaning and groaning
repeated. She pulled at her hair in frustration as she paced the floor. The boards creaked underneath her, crying in protest. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “I am so sick of people telling me that, Michael. I do mean that; otherwise, why would I have said it in the first place?” She looked at him with a crazed look in her eyes, like a cornered animal. A rouge-colored lipstick was smudged on her lips, but she hadn’t the energy to fix it. “Why don’t you just give it a day or so, maybe rest on it? We can talk about it tomorrow morning and-.” “Michael,” she said shortly, “I don’t want to talk about it tomorrow morning. I don’t want to talk about it the day after. I don’t want to talk about it, and I guess that’s the problem, is it not? Nobody really cares about what I want.” Nobody cared when her fa-
“The tectonic plates that made up their world were starting to shift, cracking and moving. They clashed up against each other, both completely unyielding.” as it tried to cool the air, even though the room was already a crisp sixty five degrees. “You don’t mean that Red,” he muttered. He brushed his lips against her bare shoulder, but she pulled away, not meeting his eyes. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, turning her back to him. “You don’t mean that,” he
ther practically abandoned her. Nobody cared when her mother left her to fend for her own and her sister’s welfare. Nobody cared when her sister was ripped away from her, even though she was all her sister had. She was barely twelve. “Red, come on, that is not true,” he said, his face like that of
42
a parent reprimanding a child. She stood by the window, arms crossed as she looked out over the city streets. There was a faint smell of car exhaust in the air, and the regular cacophony of traffic filtered through the window. The jarring sounds seemed oddly satisfying; for once there
was something louder than her own mind. “It is true, and you know it.” “Cassandra,” he said immediately. “Leave it alone.” It is funny how a name can sound just as bad as a curse in the right circumstance. You get so used to a nickname, some term
of endearment, that when you hear your name roll right off their lips, it is just like a betrayal. Days are gone when your name seems just right when formed on their tongue, and you are left bleeding by the gunshot sound of their voice. Red. Now that was her name.
A
Who was this ‘Cassandra?’ She stared at him with cold eyes, and his expression faltered. He reached out for her once more, but she stepped back, a look of disgust on her face. “When was I ever Cassandra to you?” she said, her eyes glassing over. The last time he called her that… well, when was the last time he called her that? Maybe when he first met her? No, not even then. The first time he met her, she was wearing a flowing red dress with the same deep red shade on her lips, and he found that the name stuck. She felt that the name stuck as well. Wind blew through the open windows, chilling the air again. It was sharp and brutal, like that of winter, except it was summertime. Why wasn’t it warm? Maybe it was the air conditioning. Maybe it wasn’t. “I-I’m sorry,” he weakly apologized, but her hard gaze did not falter. H i s arm
he still wasn’t ready. He had been so sure of everything, and now, he just didn’t know. Everything had been perfect before, and now, he just didn’t know. They had been falling apart for a while, but they hadn’t done much to fix it. They let it run until it desperately needed to be fixed, and then they patched it up with a little duct tape, something just to make it last a little while longer before they could fix it for real. They never came back to it though, and it just kept falling apart, piece by piece, before it eventually was made entirely out of duct tape, and there was no semblance of what was there before. “I-” he started, running his tongue over his chapped lips. He tried again. “Look Red, I know you are tired right now. It’s late. I know you don’t want to talk, but at some point you will have to, and I would rather it be sooner rather than later. I don’t want to lose you.” He was starting to lose his resolve, just like he always did. She was starting to win, just like she always did. “And I don’t want to lose you either, but everything is just so Cinque Damesstressful right now, and I have no idea why. I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams, and I don’t hung limpknow how to pick myself up; and ly by his side, I know you’re trying to help and and for the first time, he everything, but I don’t feel like it’s didn’t know what to do. Things helping.” were starting to dissolve, unravel“Like I said before, why don’t ing faster than they had before. It you just take a breather and then had been a long time coming, but we can talk about everything. It’s
Ansel Mountain
not healthy to do what you are doing, bottling things up inside. It’s not healthy, and it is going to hurt the people around you. It has already hurt me. Doesn’t that matter to you? I know it’s hard, but can you at least try? For me?” “I don’t want to talk,” she growled, her voice slowly rising. “Have you been listening to me at all? That is all everyone wants to do: talk, talk, and talk. Well, I am done talking because it does not do anything but make everything worse.” “Cassandra,” he thundered, and she went silent. “Can you just chill out for five seconds? Your world is not falling apart. Yeah, things might not be the best right now, but they could be a lot worse. Stop acting like you are the victim here; you are not entirely innocent. I am so done with your Little-Red-Riding-Hood attitude. Believe it or not, I am not the Big Bad Wolf. I am not here to prey on your weaknesses. I have been standing by you the entire time, catering to your every need, because I love you so much. I am here because I love you, and I care for you, and if that is not enough, then the door is right over there. I am sure you know how to use it.” Her cheeks turned red, and she turned to the door before she could even think. Her hand touched the doorknob, and he spoke up once more. “There are only two in the fairytale, Cassandra. If I am not the Big Bad Wolf, then who are you?”
44
Safety Net Chains that rattle Keep me sane, Chasing the “what if ’s” from my brain. I feel my throat dry up and close, Watching my body decompose. I feel the wetness on my face And pray that I am no disgrace. Stay in lineDon’t make a sound. No one hears the almost-drowned. Stuff my mouth with cotton and wires While waiting ‘til my time expires. Catalogue the sickly sweet, Pretend to be both brave and meek, Follow the legacy left for me, And curse all of time’s brevity. Lose yourself in menial tasks, But do not speak unless you’re asked. These locks that hold me are meant to last. Do not question; wear your mask. Cuffs they place to control me, I leave them on Please let me be.
Shaolynn Betts
Eye
Catherine Sun 46
Bla nk I stare here at this blank page With many things I need to say. Each word is a burden on my soul. I need to write, But these chains Tie my hands. I’m told to be silent And never write, But as each second passes I feel less and less human.
Joshua Ng
Page
Static Screens People stare at a static screen, Why am I staring at this screen? Being so attentive to what seems so irrelevant What am I hoping to get out of Yet nobody looks away… this? That is, if there actually is They continue to stare at the something to get out of this... screen. Maybe they’re hoping that it will Maybe it’s best to look away… change? But I don’t want to be the only Maybe they’re hoping that they one… will change? Will I really continue to stare No...that can’t be it! blankly at this screen just for the possibility of it changing? Why would someone that refuses And will I really do so just because to look away want to change? I don’t want to be the only one? Maybe it’s best if I don’t think about it… No, I should decide by myself! I’ll make my own choice and Wait… follow it through!
Vinit Hedaoo 48
Birth of a GhosT
Carmen Renee
Trapped There is no end. I am lost... I cannot escape, my whining heart. In the cycle... Only a start.
Marie Johnson
50
The Dandelion Waltz As she swayed In the shadows of the Dark and the Light, She closed her eyes, Let out a deep breath, And realized that She could not please everyone.
Rachel Calvis
The Fault Within Our Stars
Quendra 52
Reverse
Victoria Yang
Amnesia
I
t hurts seeing someone you’ve been so close to become close to another. You remember the good times you had together. You remember the jokes you told each other. You remember the joy you felt together. You don’t remember the bad times that ended all the happiness. You’ve forgotten the fights. You’ve forgotten the screaming. You’ve forgotten the crying. You’ve forgotten the hurt. You see them together, and you remember how good it was (even though it wasn’t). You think to yourself, “If what we had was
real-if what we felt was lovehow on Earth could you be fine?” You start to wonder if they ever truly cared. You start to wonder if it was ever really real. You start to wonder why you even tried. Half the time you wish you had amnesia, so you could forget about all the little things that remind you of them. But the other half of the time, you wish you had never known them. You start to bargain with yourself, saying maybe you could just talk to them; they’d understand right? Wrong. It’s done, and it’s over.
Like the last stroke of midnight, there is nothing left. You can’t do anything to change it, though you may wish to. And again you wish you had amnesia, because anything would be better than sitting there staring at them locking lips, something you two used to do as you laid down on the couch, sitting in their warm embrace, watching the TV as you were watched just as intensely, and smiling as your lips were captured in a sweet kiss.
Courtney Stuart 54
The Void Courtney Stuart Clear my mind erase the slate take the memories they were never mine to keep Wrap me tightly sink me into the void take my identity it was never really mine
Shattered Carmen Renee
56
Panoramas of Winter
Victoria Yang
Life Is Not Worth Killing There is nothing within this barren earth; No trees give us shade from the sun ablaze. But then there was life when Mother gave birth: The baby was the center of the maze. Everyone on the outside became crazed. No morals established, safety is gone Except for the baby, yet to be raised. He has no conflicts to deal with head on, So he sits there pondering on the lawn. There was an idea that had come about: They needed to stop being Genghis Khan. There was good in their heart, he had no doubt. People finally forgave each other; Life is not worth killing one another.
Emily Williams
58
Humans Are Like Cars
Emily Williams
Humans are like cars; They need fuel to function. Some cars are better than others: Faster, safer, prettier. But some cars are thrown into the junkyard, Forgotten about. They didn’t get to choose how they would look Or how fast they would be; They were made that way. So, why are some bought and others aren’t? Because only the best get bought, And the rest get ignored. But they all end up in the same place, Crushed… forgotten. We are becoming nothing but a heap of metal Because we treat each other like trash. Don’t destroy the ones around you Because one day you’ll be destroyed too. So, stop bringing each other down, And support one another. Don’t tell people they aren’t good enough Because no one is “good” or “bad;” We are all just people. Don’t throw others into the junkyard Because you would never do that to yourself. Stop seeing people as only pieces of trash, And start making them matter. Give them a reason, and you’ll find yours.
Mixed Emotions
Carmen Renee
60
Lyn’s Crescent Moon
q
Sunday mourning
S
et me free... This was all the girl could think as she closed her eyes and stepped through the threshold of new opportunities. In her former life, the girl would have stayed tethered to that ball and chain—very anchor that kept her from reaching her full potential— for as long as she was able. She would have remained the brightest star among the shadows; a mere individual to the only person that meant the world to her… But today was a new day; today would be a fresh start for the girl that had waited so long to overpower her said superior. Since it has taken her ages to come to this realization, all she could do was sprint away from her problems, finally in control of her own destiny. Because the girl left so
swiftly, she brought nothing but the clothes on her back. She was destined to find a fresh start, and by doing so, she would have to face the most difficult obstacle one step at a time. Mother Nature, the beast herself, would not put up with the wrath of the girl’s rigorous journey. As she placed one aimless foot in front of the other, she kept heading towards a brighter future that she thought had never looked so dark… The girl had been walking for what felt like an eternity. She grew weary, and her feet began to ache. She had no idea where she had ended up, but she had told herself that she would keep walking until she didn’t felt guilty for running so far away from what she thought was home. But was it really home? After being constantly degraded for who she was and what she
did by her said superior, constantly shamed and punished for her actions...was that really home at all? Her head began to spin as she started to pick up her pace to a slow jog, as if she was trying to outrun both her problems and her guilt, only to realize that they were the only things that she had dragged along with her. Losing herself amongst the flow of time, she ended up surrounded by a sea of white crystals. The crystals reminded her of her childhood when she would spend her summers at the beach with her grandpa. But unlike her vacations, this mysterious, deserted land did not have a single drop of water. Was she dreaming, or was she really deserted? She looked down at her limbs; they all looked the same. She gazed around at this place that looked nothing like her old home.
Rachel Calvis 62
“Everything seems alright,” she stated as she continued to move forward.“It was for the best; it is for the best…” she murmured to herself as she drudged through the desert in eternal suffering… Eventually, the beat of the burning sun became too much of a burden for the girl. She slugged through the desert as if she were chained to her guilt and struggles, living in sheer agony with her thoughts and the results that had come from
sequences, drowning in the thoughts that had filled her dense brain. As she fell to her knees in exhaustion, all of the blisters that had decorated her slender arms and legs were then irritated by the sand that was supposed to cushion her body from the fall. Upon impact, the girl let out the most infectious shriek that one ever heard. But no one was there to hear it. Her screams continued as if she were being stabbed by
sun continued to beat down on her fair skin. As the blood continued to gush from her arms and legs, the beads rolled down the sides of her body and dripped on to the white sand. All of a sudden she heard a voice. “Run.” She shot up as if someone had just whispered directly into her ear, only to find that there was no one in sight except the black vulture that had
“She shot up as if someone had just whispered directly into her ear, only to find that there was no one in sight” her actions. Was that the right choice? How far did she have to go before she was found, and dragged back to the place that felt the least like home? She was exhausted, not just from the sun as her legs cried out to her, but from the thoughts that constantly barraged her mind. Some might say she was going insane, for she did not know right from wrong. But had she made the wrong choice? She didn’t know at this point; she was lost in her own con-
a thousand knives, and they echoed vibrantly through the silent, barren desert. Then, in a single moment, the desert became silent. As the girl awoke from her painful, piteous slumber, she looked down at her feet. To her dismay, she was now accompanied by a large, black vulture. Brushing off its presence as if it were nothing, she muttered to herself as she laid her head back on the scorching sand. Her blisters began to darken and bleed as the
accompanied her not too long ago. She let out a scream of pure rage and confusion, and then began to cry. “If there is no one here, who could’ve said those words?” She got up to pace in nervousness, only to find that her slender legs began to quiver out of heat, exhaustion, and pain. Sitting back down, her eyes grew wide, looking frantically in several different directions. Then finally, she came to a conclusion with herself,
turned her head and looked with wide eyes at the black vulture that had continued to observe her throughout her slumber. “You said it!” The girl exclaimed as she pointed at the vulture. “What do you want from me? LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screeched as she flailed her arms in the direction of the shadow-black vulture. By doing so, the bird began to flap its large wings, flying effortlessly away from the vulnerable girl. It was like it had never been there in the first place. Now she was truly alone. And with nowhere to go, she laid on her back, head tilted to the side as she continued to weep. She didn’t cry because she was upset; she cried because she was in pain, and she was letting out all of her mistakes. Leaving her said superior and embarking on this journey had led her to this: lying on her back in the middle of a desert, heat exhausted and scarred from all of the new blisters that had formed. It was then, amongst all of the tears that she was shedding, that she saw it. Decorated in dark, damp boulders, a pool of the clearest blue water that anyone had
seen lay on the horizon. The pool was large, and the girl was parched. Maybe it was finally time to run. She sprung to her feet and started to sprint toward the beautiful oasis. Even though she was hurt, even though she was exhausted and in pain, even though all of her past mistakes had led her into the desert, those mistakes had also led her to right now. She would not slump, but she would prance to the clear, blue oasis that she had been waiting for. Maybe this was a sign, a sign from things far beyond belief ushering her in the right direction, cheering her on because she was going to make it. She was going to make it out of the desert alive, healthy, and happy. She had made the right choice! She was going to live. Upon arriving at the oasis, she leapt into what she thought was a soothing pool of water. She hit the surface with a thud, and she began to sip up the cool liquid. But, the water was not cool, nor soothing; instead, it was hot and grainy as it hit the girl’s skin and parched her throat. Despite the minor mishap, the girl continued to shove the water into her mouth.
On and on she went, quenching what felt like her thirst. Eating this water made her more and more thirsty as she continued to shove the coarse, dense sludge into her mouth. If only it was actually water… As time went on, the girl’s chest began to feel heavy, and she started to cough repeatedly. Before she knew it, she was on her back once again, staring at the blazing sun as her throat began to slowly close up. Looking up at the clear blue sky, thinking about her actions, and the consequences that have come from her decisions, her eyes slowly closed… She woke up with a gasp. Sweat dripped down her face and back as she sat up in her bed. It was dark and chilled in the bedroom. After a moment of confusion, she took a deep breath, a sigh of relief. This wasn’t where she had last seen herself. Suddenly, she heard a loud snore roar from the body next to her. The girl looked over to see the man himself, her said superior, her ball and chain, lying next to her in a peaceful slumber. Maybe she wasn’t as brave as she thought she was.
64
Lie
“I
love you,” she muttered under her breath. Lie. She knew he could tell, but he kissed her anyway. There was a metallic taste in the air—stale, like it had been standing too long—but he did nothing, because why go into detail about something that cannot be changed? His hands roamed her body like they were looking for something he hadn’t found yet. “I love you, baby,” he said. Lie. He knew she knew, but she kissed him anyway. They were both searching for things that couldn’t be found, but they were stuck in the same vicious cycle that never seemed to stop.
Courtney Stuart
Everything Comes To An End
AJ Hasan
66
Th Catherine Sun Bir
he Little rd
Tell me, have you seen an astounding thing? One day, a little bird whose wings were hurt Found a monster hiding among the dirt. “Mister,” she said, “are you the Lizard King?” “Why do you hide where you cannot be seen?” “Born from birds, yet I must remain covert. Always served with a prominent alert,” Said the monster, who was described as mean. She responded, “Ah, so we are the same: Broken wings mark us as heaven deters As I fell to a graceless world of monsters. Yet their wild spirit I was able to tame. You have accepted ‘monster’ as your name. Dear friend, that name I will help you constrain.” 68
Blurred Life We sit in the middle of a big mess we call life. Most of the time we just sit and look at the turmoil, doing nothing to change it. After looking at this mess, our eyes adjust, and it no longer seems like chaos; All of it is just a blurred out environment. We sit here in the middle of our clutter and do nothing. Why? Well, why not? What is better than pushing away all of our problems? We do it over and over and over until the mess is no longer blurry. We do it over and over and over until we sit in our wreckage, drowning. We refuse to look at this monstrosity we call our lives. After looking at the quandary that consumes us, do you know what we do? We sit right back down. Because in the end, All of it is a mess right? It’s all just a mess.
Mackenzie C
e
Carpenter 70
Deluded I understand you’re a professional and wish the best for my mental record; your diagnosis claims “obsessional—” true, but the rest you claim is a canard. You say this is all part of a spectrum— OCD and Tourette’s have grey matter? Your opinions? I strongly reject them. I get that I am not the mad hatter, but my problems still have validity. Sad that a doctor like you should listen, yet you ignore me with faux sympathy— taking my facts and spitting out fiction. Answers so sheer, is this a new frontier? Nevermind, I have denounced your “all clear.”
Lexie Bryant
Headless Painter
Carmen Renee 72
the wanderer .B.Z.
In the darkness of the twilight, There comes a beacon. From the dark comes the wanderer Who brings golden tales. From the peaks of mountains To the crevices of canyons, He travels the world In search of his own Zion.
katie mcgivney
Stung And just like that, it hit me all at once. The cause of the pain? Me standing in thewrong place at the right time. But isn’t this the reason for most of our pain? It’s all just bad timing—that joke, that car, those simple words that actually mean nothing. But something about your fragile mood makes it feel like a knife had been thrown at you. When that wasp stung me, I knew if I had left thirty seconds earlier, my pain would not exist. Funny how if we could just know the timing of things, Our lives would have so much less pain in them.
74
red. The color of pain Of difficulties Of loss The color of bright, true passion Of blushing when embarrassed Of stopping when needed The color of love and fury Of anger And of lust A color that seeps from within you when you break A color that is beauty both clear and opaque
Opal Sivan
Two Halves I always find myself torn With jagged edges that have been pulled Infinitely, far past their breaking point, until separated and Severed they stand. Here I wait. I wish and I hope until my knees, buckling against the Weight of my own expectations and Awash with blood in the rugged cement, become Sand eroded by the waves of time. Still, I Try to hold on, excelling to become excellent and Running from regret that I Only feed with my need for perfection and my Near obsession with fulfilling such a role. Gently, I place each Edge back into place, yet the crack still remains, and I Realize once again that this is nothing but a mimicry of a whole.
Shaolynn Betts 76
Cassie Rowicki
Life and Death
Paper Wings Everyone thinks Paper Hearts are the most dangerous, but that’s not the case. The worst thing to have is a pair of Paper Wings. Because while you soar and fly, the people around you are cut to pieces, and you have to be careful about flying too close to the sun.
Courtney Stuart 78
Once Upon A Time You see, in the beginning‌ In. The. Very. Beginning. We were strong. We were mighty. But we fell...fell to the darkness. We fell to the place that we don’t call home. Down into the dark...down into our minds. Mentally winding, for our light is dwindling. But the light will never go out, for I am sure. I. Am. Positively. Sure. We are strong and we are mighty.
Fawn Nig
The End. Now, we’re at the end‌ The. Very. End. Where all the emotions were caught. But we stood up. We all walked away. Barely escaping the end, for our fear was real. The Fear that we were ending. The Fear that we would fade. Numbing, destroying our creative prowess and advancement. But there is nothing to be afraid of. We. Never. Completely. Escape. The End is nigh anyways.
ghtingale
80
Open When You Want to See Your Growth
D
ear Future Me, Are you living the life you wanted? Have you gone to college and moved to the U.K. like you’ve planned on doing since you can remember? Have you come to terms with yourself and your worth? Because contrary to
was just you asking for attention, and I guess it was. Anyways, how old are you now? Has your skin cleared? Have you traveled the world more? I hope so. You still wanted to go to Maui and Bora Bora, don’t forget that. Is your dog still alive? Does she live with you or mom?
hot.) Do they love you? Do they treat you like you want them to? You used to think your expectations were too high, but I hope you found someone who meets them. Do you still write songs and poetry? Because you used to love it. I bet you’re still a music junkie. Did you
“Are you crying yet, remembering yourself writing this? Good. Because I’m crying while writing it.” your belief, you are worth something. I hope you’re happier than you were when you wrote this. I hope you’re finally able to see yourself in a happy life, because when you wrote this you never did. All you saw was how you wanted to die. Don’t be alarmed; you always felt that thought
AJ Hasan
I loved her so much. How’s our mom? That second hip surgery went swimmingly right? I wonder if she’s gonna get another tattoo to cover the scars… I hope not; her scars are what make her more… herself, you know? I love our mother. Speaking of, have you called her? If not, you should probably do that. Like now. Have you found a guy yet? (Or a girl; I don’t know who you’re into now. Either way I’m sure they’re
ever get that record player you wanted? How “tumblr” of you. What about your friends? Still keep in touch with any of them? Jasper was pretty cool, and Brianna was a great friend. Did you ever stop feeling so lonely? Have you gotten medication or help with your depression? I hope so, because you deserve happiness. Have you stopped covering the scars on your arm? Have you accepted your past and the body you’re in and learned
to love yourself? I started tearing up while writing this... I hope so much that you’ve come to better terms with yourself. If not, I know you can do it. You’ve got determination. Have you talked to your dad’s mother recently? She misses you. He would want you to always keep her in mind. What about your siblings? They’re all doing well, right? Good. Are you crying yet,remembering yourself writing this? Good. Because I’m crying while writing it. I’m listening to Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart and it’s bringing up some emotion, dude. Okay, off track. Actually, I think that’s all I have to say for now. You’ll be getting more letters from me soon. I don’t know you yet, but I love you. I hope you love me too, even though this wasn’t the best time in life for you. Sincerely, You
Find
Bri Pope 82
lost blue amber patel
Escape I want to escape from these shackles that hold me. Finally, after what seems to be eternity, I will be free. But is leaving worth the trouble? Leaving all my friends who helped me through the rubble? No, I have to go back. Our rights are under attack. We will fight like hell, together.
Joshua Ng
84
Our Fault
B
y entering into the social contract, one has essentially given up his or her level of assurance in exchange for a level of acceptance. How, then, are we supposed to balance each version of ourselves to stay true to our individuality while satisfying this need to conform? Instead of deriving a definitive answer, we instead turn to defense mechanisms to protect ourselves from the face of our reality, denying the powerlessness we have over a situation and instead blaming the outer world for our imperfections, projecting our insecurities onto others so that we can feel stronger, and displacing our unhappiness with ourselves—as actual people rather than a mere part of a whole—as a necessary result of society’s influence. Yet, rarely do we step back and realize that we are society.
We are the cause. We are the problem. It is only when we are left alone and forced to bemuse introspective wisps of thought that this all-consuming void of “what-if ” begins to slither across the mind, tainting one’s sense of security and confidence until it crumbles like the softly eroded earth. By giving this entity control, we have essentially succumbed to its influence, bowing under the weight of our own mental locks until we are unable to move because we have decided that there is no point in even trying. We are afraid of failure above all else because it is easier to accept the whispers of our own consciousness and its thirst for self-destruction as facts rather than contemplate the possibilities to overcome them. Essentially, we desire to be
great, even though we convince ourselves that we will never be; in essence, we run in the circles of a paradox, wherein we are confident in our cowardice and certain of our uncertainty. We define ourselves by what we are not, and it is because of this mechanically-induced method of categorization that we have become empty inside, eternally blaming the effects of the outer world when, in reality, our own attitude has become the primary block in our path towards the future. We crush our potential because we are afraid that it will fall short of our own expectations. We fear our power because we do not wish to be powerful, but instead wish to be strong. Yes, we are the problem. Yet, we are also the solution.
Shaolynn Betts
Third Eye Blind
Lindsey Meads
86
Watch You
Sanch Singh
hing
hita
The Loop
L
ife can be one of the most complicated concepts to define. Is life really that complicated? If you think about it, we are part of an endless loop. The average person grows up going to school so that they can secure a decent job in the future. We work to buy things that are wanted and needed, such as food, water, shelter… So what happens after we eat all of the food we have in the house? Well, we have to go out and work more to earn back the money that we need to buy more food, and this loop of “work and spend” will go on until you take your last breath. You could compare humans to worker ants due to the fact that they also live to provide for their colony and work until they die. How can you escape this endless loop? Just because many people are put in this track doesn't mean that you have to follow their steps. Hang out with people that make you feel good, do the things that you love to do, and rule out the negativities in life that bring you down. Live life to the fullest. Don't just be alive.
Kyran Dames 88
Thought Crime
T
he man lit the wax candle, lighting up the root-entwined brick walls to reveal the ancient paint fading away with age. The man shut the wooden door behind him, encasing the chamber with a painfully gloomy darkness. He descended the staircase in a hurry, avoiding the tree roots growing through the wall and covering the stairs. Once he reached the bottom, he raised his candle to reveal his old workplace. The small fire unveiled a moldy wooden table and a chair concealed in a blanket of darkness. A worn leather notebook and ink brush lay scattered on the table. The man set the candle down on the table and brushed off the dust on the notebook. He flipped through the pages, carefully reading his previous writings. Every day the man would practice this routine and write a new entry in his notebook. He wrote what he felt, and the decisions he made that day. He didn’t know why he kept writing, but he felt that it was
the only thing he could do. Today was different, for this would be his last journal entry. As he sank into the chair, dust bunnies scattered through the air. He grabbed his ink brush and opened to a new page. He tried to write something, but he was stuck. He didn’t know what to write. He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do; all he knew was that he wanted a change. As he sat at the desk,
gun,” the man muttered under his breath. He quickly scribbled his last journal entry, and stood from his chair. He frantically searched for an exit in his dark, musty workplace. After looking around the room, the man noticed a small crack of sunlight coming through a boarded up window. With one swift blow of his elbow, he dented the boards. From there, he quickly took
“Today was different, for this would be his last journal entry.” unable to write, thundering footsteps pounded above him. The man snapped out of his trance and began to panic. “They’re here,” he grumbled. The footsteps were soon replaced with a pounding on the wooden door. A loud voice echoed through the halls. “C-137! You are charged of thought crimes! Submit and you will not be harmed!” “The revolution has be-
Joshua Ng
down the boards as old splinters flew into his face. “C-137! Do not make me demand again! Submit now!” the voice demanded again. “We have your friend TR-8R! Come out and we will not harm them!” With one last look around his beloved workplace, he bid all of his belongings goodbye and lept out the window. As he lept, the Thought Police finally burst through the door and
rushed into the man’s room, hoping to find him. The man landed with a sickening thud, which attracted the attention of one Thought Officer. He looked out the window to find the man lying on the ground, clutching his leg in pain. Even so, he had no time to lose. He quickly limped away into the forest, leaving his shelter in the distance. “Halt! Stop right there!” the Officer shouted. “Don’t chase after him,” the Chief Officer said. “From a fall that high, he should have fractured his spine. Even if he only broke his leg, he’ll definitely get lost in the woods.” “So what do we do now?” the Officer asked. “Search the area. Find his belongings.” “Hey, look at what I found!” another Officer shouted, holding the man’s notebook. “What did he write?” The Chief barked. “I’ve decided what I want to be...” the Officer read from the journal.
Detrimental Time I am consumed by Time around me; can’t we just Remain here in grey?
Sophia Hanchey
90
Metaphorical Kafkaesque Firmament Hall of the Mind Matthew Buxbaum
92
A Light in the Dark Katrine Buckingham
Gone
I thought that I could outrun it; Escape all my worries and my pain. Each step gets me closer to the pit. Behind me, someone stands in the rain. I will not submit any longer, For there is nowhere to run. I must fight, for I am stronger; The war has just begun.
Joshua Ng
94
Index Akila- Page 40 Betts, Shaolynn - Page 20, Page 21, Page 45, Page 76, Page 85 Bryant, Lexie - Page 71 Buckingham, Katrine- Page 93 Buxbaum, Matthew- Page 91 Calvis, Rachel - Page 51, Page 62 Carpenter, Mackenzie - Page 23, Page 69, Page 70 Dames, Cinque - Page 44 Emroe, Adam - Page 29, Page 30 Feltus, Camille J. - Page 19 Greenberg, Ellis - Page 29 Hanchey, Sophia - Page 90 Hasan, AJ - Page 66, Page 81 Headoo, Vinit - Page 15, Page 48 Iretac, Nus - Page 33, Page 34 Johnson, Marie - Page 38, Page 50 Lacy, Kamryn - Page 17 Lynn, Marion - Page 36 McGivney, Katie - Page 74 Mead, Jules - Page 16 Meads, Lindsey - Page 86 Ng, Joshua - Page 10, Page 27, Page 47, Page 84, Page 89, Page 93
Nightingale, Fawn - Page 79, Page 80 Owens, Claire - Page 25 Patel, Amber - Page 83 Pope, Bri - Page 82, Q - Page 61 Quendra - Page 52 Renee, Carmen - Page 49, Page 56, Page 60, Page 72 Rowicki, Cassie - Page 77 Shabbir, Khadeeja - Page 32 Shefler, Lior - Page 13 Singh, Sanchita - Page 87 Sivan, Opal - Page 75 Smith, Logan - Page 18 Stuart, Courtney - Page 22, Page 54, Page 55, Page 65, Page 78 Sun, Catherine - Page 46, Page 67 Tau, Maia - Page 33 Wang, Amanda - Page 7 West, Niamhy - Page 24 Williams, Emily - Page 26, Page 35, Page 58, Page 59 Wythers, Daisy - Page 41 to 44 Yang, Victoria - Page 53, Page 57 Zahariades, Connor - Page 28, Page 73
Colophon All art, literature, and photographs were submitted by students of Alpharetta High School and selected by a committee of creative arts magazine staff and editors. Typeface used in the publication: Lemon Milk Minion Pro Pages and layout created using Adobe Indesign CC Cover Art by Jules Mead, Logan Smith, Nus Iretac, Carmen Renee, and Lindsey Meads Cover Layout and Design by Zoe Genet and Claire Owens Title Page Art by Logan Smith Title Page Design by Zoe Genet Folio Design by Zoe Genet
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Manifest February 2016 Alpharetta High School