Illuminated Smile

By Andrew Asherman

I didn't really want to swim, but something inside was telling me to go. Monday stumbled its way through my mind the entire night; I really needed to go home. But my sighs confirmed her request. Downing my drink again, I tapped another for the walk. I stumbled a little bit getting out of my seat. It was a rocker, which didn't help. I found my strut and patiently hiked the steps of the porch leading into the house. She led the way through the crowded sea which helped me realize my insignificance, but also my contentment with being alone. The majority of these people don't know me but that fact that I’m here with them sharing this experience brews internal peace. I’m comfortable encircled by lost faces.

Through the masses I saw my sister, dancing with her friends, and James still chalking up the same girls. I kept my head down, going unnoticed. My eyes seemed to drift upwards but I had to bring them back down. Eventually, we made it outside. Some kids were lighting up near the side of the house, also trying not to be seen. The grass is wet and patchy. Long enough, it touches our ankles. The bass from the music inside exalted our breathing. Both of us were nervous about what was going to develop. She began to talk about the lake, how she always went as a kid. I don't think I’ve ever been to this one before.

The further we were away from the house, the more intimate the walk became, but we were still distant. I could hear her heart, and she could hear mine. For about a couple of minutes we walked up a hill. At the top, we saw the water as the full moon lit up our entire path leading us down to the beach. I guess you could say we were gonna walk a moonlight mile. The lake looked like you had a black sail sheet posted to a tree outside and were throwing white paint at it. The wind took water off the surface and moved it around. Hopefully, the water can soak up my past tears, but it won’t sober me up. We continued to walk in silence, while our hearts marched us towards our swim we got closer. Our arms and the backsides of our hands finally touched and swayed with each step. A rush flowed through me. Now my breathing was heavier. We finally got to the beach, with limited talk, but she continued to stroll to the wooded area to the right of the shore. There was a trail leading us to wherever she was going. We had to walk up another hill which led to a ledge with a rope swing. It was dark in the woods, but in front of us, the moon’s light formed a diving board for us. We looked at each other, with curiosity, wanting to explore. Both of us knew we didn't need to say anything. This is why we left the party. We began to strip. She was quick and unraveled the swing from the trees. I followed suit. She tightly grabbed the rope and with a shriek she jumped off the ledge and at the top her hands let go. Ripples composed, pushing light in circles. As she rose up the moon illuminated her smile. The rope returned and it was now my turn. I had to get my bearings first before I stepped to the ledge, but I finally grabbed the rope and jumped. For the few seconds in the air, all I felt was this moment sharing it with her and the moon.

All Rise

By Haden Bottiglieri

For our national anthem mid high crotch my partner and I stand up and turn to face the flag.

Hearts pounding, bodies sweating, out of breath.

headgears get unstrapped and hands go over hearts while our nation’s ballad projects through crappy arena speakers.

2,000 boys staring at the stars and stripes while they get ready to beat each other up and call it a sport. what’s the point?

why play the national anthem in our own nation?

some may say.

I know why.

we pretend sports matter so we don’t fight wars.

we pretend that people in uniforms chasing after a ball matters so we don’t go insane. wrestling is my outlet for violence, grit, competition, and sacrifice while brave men and women do it for real to protect us.

I saw this video of an nfl player with tears running down his face. he cries everytime he hears the star spangled banner. his tears almost look fake. he says he knows it could always be his last anthem. his last game. his last day. his last last anthem. so as the claps start and cut off the anthem

I always remain still until the very last note of “braaaaaaaveeeeeeee” rolls off the singer’s tongue. my partner is done clapping and he’s already starting to wrestle me again, but I stand still and clap all by myself when it’s over. because I know all that really matters is that I’m free and I’m grateful for it and because I know my next high crotch could be my last. being American means you know how lucky you are to be safe and free and that you turn with your hand on your heart to the flag when you hear, All Rise