litmag
Spring 2015 Issue 1
Acknowledgements Bergen County Technical Schools Board of Education Jason Kim, President William J. Meisner Ed.D., Vice President Raymond Hryczyk, Board Member Marie E. La Testa, Board Member Norah Peck, Interim Executive County Superintendent Bergen County Technical Schools Administration Howard Lerner, Superintendent Gary Hall, Coordinator of Human Resources Andrea Sheridan, Assistant Superintendent Richard Panicucci, Assistant Superintendent John Susino, Business Administrator / Board Secretary Bergen County Executive James J. Tedesco III Board of Chosen Freeholders Joan M. Voss, Chairwoman Steve Tanelli, Vice Chairman John A. Felice, Chair Pro Tempore Maura DeNicola David L. Ganz Thomas J. Sullivan Jr. Tracy Silna Zur Campus Administration Russell Davis, Principal Raymond Bath, Vice Principal Victor Lynch, Supervisor Giulia Zanoni-Mendelsohn, Dean of Academics Special Thanks Ms. Villanova Ms. DiAmico-King Mr. Pavlu Mr. Guthrie
In This Issue... Silent Love by Aidan Walsh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cover Winners. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 untouchable by Tatianna Yared . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 infinity by Rebecca Zaritsky. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Grateful by Anonymous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Of A Feather by Rebecca Rosenthal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Destructive Dress Up by Raine Cadence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 The Key to Your Heart by Julia Parsley. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Airplanes by Jessica Zhu. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 The Laws of Love by Caroline Virone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Distracted Thoughts #24 by Raine Cadence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Dear Emma by Rachel Han. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Silent Love by Aidan Walsh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 The Things You Will Never Know by Talia Rochlin . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 little bird by Beatrice Lee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Into the Horizon by Max Feld . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 surely. by David Augustus Maginley. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 We Are the World by Riya Gohil. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Shoes by Rin Y . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Litmag strives to provide a space for the artists and writers of BCA to share their work by publishing this print magazine every year. We, along with the Litmag Club and our faculty advisors, Ms. Villanova and Ms. DiAmico-King, are always astounded by the works submitted for publishing. We regret that we cannot showcase everything in print. However, on March 27th, Litmag sponsored Music and Poetry Night. With over 25 performers (including some impromptu open-mic performers!), mood lighting and homemade baked ziti, we were so glad to see the supportive environment and great turnout for our school’s performers. This issue, we also hosted an art and writing competition. The winners, as judged blindly by Ms. Villanova and Ms. DiAmicoKing are featured in this issue. As always, compiling this issue was a great honor and the best kind of challenge. Please congratulate the creators featured within on a job well done. Thank you to everyone who helped to make this issue happen, and thank you for reading and supporting the arts.
Jessica Zhu and Rebecca Rosenthal LitMag Co-editors
Announcing:
Winners of BCA LitMag’s February Contest Art Winners:
1. untouchable by Tatianna Yared 2. Of A Feather by Rebecca Rosenthal 3. The Key to Your Heart by Julia Parsley
Writing Winners:
1. infinity by Rebecca Zaritsky 2. Grateful by Anonymous 3. Destructive Dress Up by Raine Cadence and Airplanes by Jessica Zhu
Congratulations to all winners and thanks to everyone who submitted!
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untouchable by Tatianna Yared
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infinity
by Rebecca Zaritsky it was summer the first time you held my hand, the grass was crisp and green and the sky was robin’s-egg blue. even the birds approved. we lay down under the canopy of sky looked up at its infinity pretended that we had our own. we didn’t, of course. but summertime still reminds me of the callouses on your fingertips as they traced the outline of my jaw. i cannot see green grass without thinking of your eyes: the same color as the sky. 3
Grateful by Anonymous
The city was beneath us; the moon was above. Before then, I never understood why someone would build a restaurant on the top floor of a skyscraper and surround it completely with glass. There was no possible way that either of us could afford the food here, as we were waist deep in student loans. But we had decided that there was no better place for a best-friend reunion than a pricey glass restaurant on the top of a skyscraper. “Were you in love?” I stared blankly at my best-friend, unable to answer her question. “What?” I answered. “In love? Were you in love with him?” “What? No, no. And why are you even bringing this up? Do you realize that it has been three years since I have seen him or spoken to him?” She took a bite of her salad, “Yeah, and I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about him for three years.” I did not answer. “See,” she pointed at me from across the table, “your face is bright red!” I was clearly embarrassed, but she was wrong. I had pushed him far from my mind; I had more pressing issues to worry about. She kept talking, “Answer me this,” she swung her fork like a pendulum, “would you say that you have regrets about not making a move, or are you able to look back on it like ‘aw, he was my high school sweetheart?’” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I think that he was my biggest mistake. I think that we would have been better off just not knowing each other.” 4
She was quiet and looked upset. I stood sternly by my response, until she asked, “Do you really feel that way?� I looked up through the glass ceiling at the smoky sky. Tears welled in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. One escaped me, and it cascaded down my cheek. I was not sure why I was crying at first, but then I thought about her question. How did I feel about him? After all of this time, I still did not have an answer to the question. In one second, the four years I spent agonizing over him came back to me. The floodgates opened; my buried feelings exploded. At once everything hit me: The frighteningly severe yearning I caught when I first met him. The seemingly unimportant prattle that served only as an excuse to prolong any stolen moment of interaction. The blinding euphoria that I came to know every time his low rumble of a voice launched my amused chuckle. The paralyzing fear of losing him that struck amidst the joy without fail. The visions of a perfect, unattainable future that I allowed myself to create in a ridiculous attempt to keep my sanity intact. The glimpses of the heaven that awaited me when I thought of possessing the breathtaking privilege of being his. The idolizing admiration we developed for each other, stemming from the insecurities we had in our own faults. The unbounded fondness I had for him not despite his imperfections, but because of them. 5
The unsurpassable pleasure that I took in being his friend. The supreme reward in simply knowing him and everything he was. The sincere, innocent pride I had while simply observing his actions. The cries of an unparalleled bliss that I heard not before his first hello. The inconceivable depths of sorrow I experienced without him that I could not have otherwise fathomed in even my wildest dreams. I brushed hair out of my eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I was in love with him. But he showed me the possibility of these incredible, inexplicable emotions. And for that, I guess, I am eternally grateful.” She smiled, “You loved each other, you know. You were… irretrievably in love with one another.” I was too scared to believe it. “Did he tell you that?” She shook her head. “He didn’t have to. And neither did you.”
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Of A Feather by Rebecca Rosenthal
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Destructive Dress Up by Raine Cadence
1. When I was six I reached into a Legos bin and my daddy told me Legos are for boys who are built to fix and I should play dress up with my dolls. 2. I grew up around plastic perfection paranoid that would never be me. 3. When I was nine I played dress up with myself rummaging through my inner most bins trying to find something to make me whole and beautiful. 4. I was nothing but my rags buried deep within that which would only make the point of focus me. 5. When I was twelve the real life dolls taught me I needed to be broken for him to want to fix me. 8
6. I took a boy’s tool and dressed myself with scars and false security praying that he would think it suited me hoping that the dark beauty would make him choose to fix me. 7. When I was fourteen I grew tired of how “myself ” looked on me, I learned to play dress up with boys. wearing them with pride hammer and nail to build me up into everything they want me to be thinking this one is it this is the one that will fix everything. 8. I never knew the wounds from hammers and nails would add new scars year after year. 9. When I was sixteen I ran out of clothes 9
in my closet and I couldn’t find anything in the stores; They were all out of bandages to dress my damage and distrust marked by the scars from wreckage that no boy could rebuild while he was out leaving his personal mark across my chest. 10. I lay awake at night and curse the construction site my body has become all gravel and frayed thread but no pattern or blueprint showing how to rebuild the series of demolition Destruction left to demonstrate no boy could fix better than he can destroy what never needed to be fixed at all. 11. When I am eighteen no longer fit to play pretend, I resolve to stop shopping and learn how to sew and mend myself instead.
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The Key to Your Heart by Julia Parsley
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Airplanes by Jessica Zhu
When I first moved to the city, I sat on the fire escape and listened to the sounds of the city below me, the sounds of cars sighing in exhaustion, the low murmur of city-dwellers, the sounds of pots clanging, the distant shouts of faint unknown languages brought by the breeze, instead of acknowledging the fact that I still had boxes to unpack. And then, I looked up and I turned my gaze to you. You were there, and in the least likely of places, smiling a wide grin as you leaned out of your bedroom window and waved in my direction. I blinked once, glancing around me to see if you weren’t waving at someone else. I didn’t think I saw anyone, and when I turned back to look at you, you were still hanging out of your window, but now you were laughing. Your eyes were squeezed shut and mouth wide open in a silent laughter that I couldn’t hear, not over the sound of the city. I only stared at you in confusion until you stopped, but even then it looked like you were still trying to hold back from bursting out into laughter again. You waved again in my direction, and when I pointed at myself with a quizzical look, you nodded and smiled at me, as if to say, “Yeah, I was waving at you the whole time, silly.” I ended up laughing to myself a little, but mostly in embarrassment, and I waved back. I wondered who you were, and why you were waving at me, someone you don’t even know, but somehow, it felt like I don’t even really have to know. I put my hand down and looked back at you. It looked like you were trying to say something to me from the way your lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear you over the raucous noise of the city and I couldn’t read lips, either. I shook my head apologetically. 12
Your face seemed to change expression slightly, almost as if you were disappointed, before it brightened up slightly, and you slunk yourself back inside your apartment, leaving the window dark and empty. Immediately, I wished that you hadn’t left, and I wished that you could have stayed a little longer, and I wondered if you’ve gotten bored of me already. I sighed, and lowered my gaze back down to the street below and begin counting the number of cars that go by. 53…54…55… And then I stopped. Something hit my head and dropped down onto my lap, and it took a few moments for me to register what it was. A single, neatly folded, white paper airplane sat in my lap, and I instinctively looked back up and across the street. And there you were again, grinning that same, wide grin, waving. Your hands made a motion that looked like you were trying to open a box, and I look down at the airplane in my lap and pick it up, slowly unfolding it. Dear Stranger… it read, and I had to laugh a little, looking up back at you and holding up the paper and pointing to it. You nodded in excitement, and your smile got wider. I shook my head and laughed softly to myself, looking back at the paper and silently tracing my finger over the words that were crisply printed on it. I softly mouthed the words, wondering what it would sound like if you were saying them, and when I looked back up at you again, I didn’t feel like we were strangers any longer. I smiled and held up a finger as I climbed back into my room, rummaging around for a piece of paper, which proved to be a much more difficult task than I thought it would be, since I still had barely unpacked anything at that point. But I managed to find a pen and a sheet of paper, which I began to write on. Dear Not-so-much-of-a-stranger-anymore… I remember going back and forth with you that day, sending over and receiving paper airplanes with little messages on them. 13
I knew your name, found out we were in the same grade at the same high school, your favorite season and your favorite color, the movie that you just watched and would watch again, and how that I should definitely come along next time, your favorite restaurant in this city, which wasn’t that far away, incidentally, from the movie theater, and that we could go visit there after the movie, and you told me about your family, your friends, and I couldn’t help but eagerly read those paper airplanes and quickly respond back. I told you who I was, where I was from, my favorite food and how it was likely your favorite restaurant would have it, my favorite book, which you were reading right now and you said that when you finished it you would tell me immediately what you thought of it… We kept on sending them back and forth until the streetlamps started to flicker on as the sky began to darken, and it occurred to me that we could have just as easily walked over to each other’s apartment instead of sending all these paper airplanes, but it seemed more fun this way. It felt more personal, and it felt more “you”, and it felt like it was because we weren’t strangers to each other that we could talk in this way.
And even after we had truly met face to face, you still sent paper airplane messages to me, and I would always respond back the same way. I don’t think that we were ever truly strangers, and I had that same feeling when we did eventually go see your favorite movie and I ate my favorite food at your favorite restaurant, and did all the other countless things that we planned to do. Even as I discovered new things about you, it felt like I was only remembering those facts about you again. And so maybe it was only natural that on one chilly winter morning, there was chocolate from you, and chocolate from me, and we both ate them with grins on our faces as we gazed at each other from across the street. Because you were never a stranger. You were always just a part of me that I was only waiting to discover. 14
The Laws of Love by Caroline Virone
It’s known that an object in motion tends to stay in motion, unless acted on by an unbalanced force well, I can see you leaving me, moving away ever so quickly, and I just want to reach out and pull you back, but I can’t move and you’re getting further away now, while my feet are glued to the ground because it’s known that an object at rest tends to stay at rest, unless acted on by an unbalanced force and you haven’t been any help so I’m just stuck here. as you’re moving on, I’m caught in the past and you know they say that every action has an equal and opposite reaction so I’ve got to assume that while I sit here crying, you’re somewhere out there, laughing and having a good time. while you relieved yourself of a burden, one was dropped right on my shoulders. 15
Distracted Thoughts #24 by Raine Cadence
I’ve heard my name before, but wrapped around your lips it sounds like it belongs to the girl I should be.
Untitled 1 by Tatiana Yared
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Dear Emma by Rachel Han
Dear Emma, When you entered this world So small, vulnerable, beautiful You wrapped your five fingers Around my thumb And I called you mine When you took your first steps I was there Your silly toothless smile Made up for sleepless nights Sorry Was all it took to mollify my anger as I washed your masterpieces off the white wall Holding you in my arms Thinking of you Was all I ever did And when you entered high school I saw myself in you The drive in your eyes Yet, I couldn’t call you mine anymore I had been replaced by a boy who Thought he could care for you like I did But when he left for another I held you tightly, It’s not fair He was the one Mother knows best
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Off to college you went Off to other countries to gain What the world would offer While I, stayed behind Watching my hands shake a little more Confused as to what day it was Or, where I was Or, who I was Saddened that my time of youth Had been passed to you Emma, I was frightened I wished you would come back And you did! You did! Only to tell me that, now you would live With another man And that the date was set The day when I would have to share you I cried myself to sleep Holding pictures of you What was the date again? But when you walked down that aisle I had never seen anyone so beautiful You were glowing As I was fading Into an abyss of darkness I was not, who I used to be Only remembering some things More often, nothing
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I was turning into the blank white wall And you desperately plastered images Now, it was I who cried at nights And you who held me My memory won’t last forever And the few times when I surface from murky waters will dwindle But my love for you Emma will stay Strong as diamond, young as ever Time has nothing on us I love you -Mom
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Silent Love by Aidan Walsh
The Things You Will Never Know by Talia Rochlin
There are so many things that you will never know. So many things that I am never going to tell you. You will never know about how fast my heart races Every time I see your beautiful face. You will never know about the butterflies in my stomach Each and every time I talk to you. You will never know about the sparks that I feel, The sparks I feel whenever you touch me. You will never know about the smile that stretches across my face Whenever my phone buzzes and I see that it’s you. And you will certainly never know how much I love you. As much as I would like to tell you these things, They are my little secrets. They are my little secrets that you will never know.
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little bird by Beatrice Lee
little bird, i say as your hair blows in the wind and i sit with you when our faces are right against each others and the sun sets red behind us funny, you say, how day sets in the color of blood and this is what we call the prettiest thing it’s as if the sky was bleeding from the inside and there was nothing we could do but watch to honor its existence i’ll wrap you in a biederlack and together we can watch the burning sun
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Into the Horizon by Max Feld
surely.
David Augustus Maginley it’s those off hand back ended ones that hurt the most. you are unphased Like most of the world but I resist. I have to toast If I don’t feel the pain No one will. My love Not in vain. To play with the word “kill” I pray it is in jest. Words followed by tears All that I have to ingest. My heart tumbles lest everyone will turn. Our embrace is for what I yearn. Something tells me Our physicality Could be a solution Perhaps, but resolution I wish you looked inside The way I look with my eyes Quivering possible thought I need you in my arms 26
Fear what you have fought Inflict myself with that harm And I can hear that part you read apologies forming in your head It’s not like I’m angry or offended I just wish we had the same lenses Your beauty is not a joke These words will one day choke No not because the globe labeled you an ‘ugly’ or ‘gross’ girl Just picturing you in reality Makes me forget the world I say I don’t believe in absolute But you have changed my attitude Every time my sights lay on you My chest groans and creaks anew Not enough synonyms in the English language But the only thing I know I had faith it did This sweat isn’t from temperature Rather the way I look at her As much as much as I think she’s gorgeous She probably can’t stop thinking that she’s enormous 27
For one I feel crushed by my sense of attraction But I know my shame is just a fraction Of what the world imposes on her everyday And every other too in so many different ways It’s disgusting. No not how soft. The pressure and how it is oft It’s hard for me to even think of the words The possibility that it could ever hurt her
Untitled 2 by Tatiana Yared
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We Are The World by Riya Gohil
In Japan there are rivers Covered with pink delicate petals That kiss the water’s surface The way you kiss me at night. In India I remember flying Through the air on my homemade wheeled swing And I can’t help but feel as breathless now With you holding onto me like I held onto the swing. In Australia it is summer during Christmas And winter during the time our leaves turn green And even though I’m in the right hemisphere My life seems to be going backwards like the seasons. In Canada there was a couple Walking down the street Enveloped in each other Like my heart is around yours. In my backyard Where we watch the clouds Take shape of our beautiful dreams All I can see is the same face that lays next to me.
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Shoes by Rin Y.
There were way too many noises inside Ned’s head. He slowly felt the sound of his own mind desperately being cornered at the back of his skull, threatened to be overrun by all the relentless pestering nags, blaring pounding reminders, and whispering desperate pleas. Acknowledging the distress, Ned shut the document he had been trying to work on, and decided it would be more efficient to come back and look at it again later rather than trying to push through this thought mob. He thought if he took a couple moments to himself maybe the noises would just quiet down like they always did, and maybe come back at a more convenient time when he could actually diplomatically sort things out. These were his thoughts after all; he did not want to just throw them away. After promising his mother to come back before his father came home from work, Ned opened the shoe closet and grabbed his familiar Chuck Taylors and his coat. Even with their ragged, grey grass stained canvas, worn and split rubber edges, and equally tattered limp laces, Ned never felt the need to get a new pair. These were comfortable and just felt like another layer of skin over his feet after so many wears. Down two blocks to Main Street and around the corner of Locke, the young teen walked across the remains of the last snowfall to a more isolated area of the town park. Although he felt guilty wishing to avoid anyone he knew, Ned discerned his need for an independent moment to breathe from the desire’s selfish implication and decided to enjoy this time he had allowed to himself. With a dull sensation of ice crunching through the thin fabric of his sneakers, Ned sat himself down a bench’s flaking green painted planks. Then for a moment, he relished in this suspension of motionlessness and the murmurs of the moving silver air. But after the few seemingly perfect seconds of 30
silence, it felt oddly flat, so he tried to take in his surroundings to add some stimulation to his mind. Ned tried to hear the faint sounds of the naked trees swaying and their branches quivering in the wintertime draft. He tried to feel the same dry air go through him but he found himself feeling an environment devoid of movement, as if the air and the sounds were avoiding him, going around him, then eventually relaxing back into its own path. Yet here he felt one by one the mass of questions and voices in his head slowly go to sleep like the frogs in the pond until spring and thought this one dimensional feeling was not too bad and gave up trying to stimulate his mind to something more than this muffled radio wave. The ice beneath his feet had once been the blanket of down feathers that put the excitement on the faces of small children when they looked outside the window while bundling themselves with scarves and hats. Now all that remained and survived through the harsher night temperatures were lonely fragments of dirty stone ice that had even lost its sense of coldness and was just... numb. From a distance, Ned heard a rhythm of scuttling patters on the brick-lined side walk. He looked at the winding path and from around the corner marked by a handsome evergreen came a petite individual: a small girl. She looked equally as surprised by Ned’s presence as he was with hers but soon turned her head to a curious angle and shyly walked towards the park bench. “Are you okay?” she asked, as if trying to imitate the tone of her Mom’s voice. “Hm?” Ned took a moment to process the simple question and politely smiled, “Yea. I’m alright. Thank you.” 31
“Can I sit here?” She pointed to a spot of lifting paint next to Ned. “Of course.” The girl cautiously used her arms to pull herself up onto the bench. There was a reason why she had asked that question to the boy as soon as she saw him. Mom always seemed to say it when something was wrong, even though there was not any mention of that something. There was some magic in that question that seemed to solve everything. Even she could see that something was upsetting this boy, but maybe he did not even know for himself. She looked at him to see if maybe she figure it out. He was taller and bigger than she was, his hair and eyes a more tired darker shade of brown than hers, kind of like her father’s when he came home from work. He turned to her, sensing her staring and she turned away a little too quickly. That’s when she noticed. The rubber edging of the boy’s grey sneakers had started to rip and peel back like the old paint she was sitting on, leaving a widening slit for the snow and the cold to get inside! Perhaps that was what was wrong! Cold wet socks were never comfortable. She needed to tell him and maybe he would be better. “You have a hole in your shoe!” She gasped concerned. “Sorry?” Ned looked down and flexed his toes, and indeed there was a hole in the side of his left shoe, “Oh..... I didn’t notice that. Thanks.” He smiled again. Ned looked towards the small child. Although initially he had wanted to avoid people, her company did not seem to bother him all too much. Moreover, he thought maybe he should help this girl find her parents; they were probably worried because the sun was starting to start its burn out descent to the evening. “Hey. I’m Ned. What’s your name?” He got off the bench and crouched in front of her and looked at her eye level. “Charlie.” Her eyes brightened with interest. Before Ned had 32
time to think of what else could help him find her parents, she asked, “Hey, how did you not notice the hole in your shoe?” “Errh... I don’t know... I guess...I never felt it?” Ned replied hesitantly. “But it’s so cold!” Charlie demonstratively shivered, “Aren’t you cold? “No? Not really... Say Charlie, if you’re cold, do you want to go home? Let’s go look for your mom.” Ned offered his hand to the younger child. Eagerly Charlie’s mint green mitten took Ned’s cold hand and the both of them got up from the bench. They travelled across the park towards, where Charlie said, was the last place she was with her mother: in front of the stone fountain that was drained for the colder months. The minerals of the hard water had precipitated on the edges leaving a sad green tinge crusted onto the edges of grey stone. After scouting the surrounding area for a couple minutes and not finding Charlie’s mother, Ned and Charlie both sat at the foot of the fountain trying to think of what to do next. While the younger was fiddling with a pebble on the ground with a concentrating look on her face, the older boy took a moment to look at his shoes. It slightly surprised him that he had never seen it before because in fact the hole was more on the large side and he practically wore these shoes every day. Ned’s eyes wandered over to Charlie’s shoes, tucked beneath her legs and chin in the position she was sitting. They were considerably smaller, about half his size, with the still shiny yellow material with patterns of small white flowers and a distinct strip of new Velcro. “Look Ned! You can hear the birds louder here than from where the bench was!” Charlie pointed out. Ned bounced out of his thoughts, raised his head and listened. Indeed there were birds calling back and forth to each other in the evergreen trees. He heard the birds now, but he did not remember hearing them when he was alone before. 33
“Yeah... You’re right.” He shivered. The air was getting chilly. For a moment, as they both stayed still, listening to the rare songs of winter, until they heard a worried female voice distantly called out, “Charlie? Charlie where are you?” Charlie?” Without a word, the two of them scurried to the source of the sound. Charlie called out for her mother, and they were reunited a few meters away from the fountain. “Charlie!? Where did you go? I told you to stay where you could see me while I finished up my phone call!” The mother’s nimble hands fluttered down to her child. Charlie’s mother did not even perceive Ned standing there until several moments after, and she proceeded to thank him multiple times. It left him feeling unnatural like the pathway they were standing on cutting through the trees in the park. “Don’t forget your shoe has a hole in it okay?” Charlie turned around. “I won’t. Thanks Charlie. I’ll see you around.” Ned said with a twinkle in his eye. He waved as he saw Charlie and her mother walk off a good distance until he turned around to walk home as well. Ned never noticed that he could not hear the birds anymore and he no longer felt cold. He prodded along home, in the silver winter wind stained with the ribbons of the sun, setting on top of the stone cold ice.
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bca litmag accepts submissions all year round! We accept short stories, poetry, photography, and art. Please submit all pieces to bcalitmagazine@gmail.com
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Bergen County Academies Spring 2015