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Green Emerging . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Anxiety. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Around Town . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Adulting. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Summer Blues. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Wander Around . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Emily’s Photo Diary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 A Trip To Machu Picchu. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 It Was All Whirlwind, Heat and Flash. . . . . . . 47 Wakin On A Pretty Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Creation’s Dormancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Treasure Map. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 Georgia’s Journey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 Abbie Woodley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Far Away. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

Getting Out . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 Reconciliation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 JC Allstars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Michelle Murphy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87


ANXIETY Photo and text by Molly Caenwyn


Ever since I can remember, travelling was always an issue from me. From camping holidays and road trips, to train journeys, to day trips on the ferry, I have always found these tasks so daunting to approach. A few years ago I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder based around my IBS and travelling. Constantly frightened of not begin near a toilet is an embarrassing problem that has caused more grief than I care to mention. At one point, I was even too scared to venture out the house in fear I would lose control of myself. I am however, slowly getting better.

I am at my most comfortable alone. I use solitary bike rides to practise different periods of time to travel. One Sunday evening, I decided to take my bike and ride into unknown territory. As I started to feel as if I were completely lost, I found myself in a small town, about 6 or 7 miles away from where I lived. It was around 6 o’clock when I arrived and the town was deserted. I realised I needed the toilet and began to panic. I cycled round the town, panicking further to see all the shops and all the cafes were closed. My eyes flicked between each sign that I saw, trying to find one that pointed me in the direction of a public toilet. After a near attack, I found one, swung open the door and slammed it shut behind me. Facing me on the opposite wall was a line of light, pouring in from the grubby window at the top of the room. I started to feel safe, as if this were my light at the end of the tunnel. I began to realise that I was going to be okay; I had cycled for nearly an hour without even thinking about a toilet. Look how far you have come, I thought to myself. My body relaxed, the tension within me drained away with a soft sigh as I sat down. My life was getting better and I hadn’t even noticed. I had always focused on the negative and never thought to praise myself and acknowledge how far I had come in my recovery. After I exited the room, I hopped on my bike and smiled to myself the rest of the way home.

AROUND TOWN Photos by Avalon Hale-Thomson featuring Nina Durban



ADULTING By far the most challenging emotional road trip By Shanice High school was easy. I was involved in the theatre department and I was liked well enough. I enjoyed high school and theatre so thoroughly that I genuinely cried when it ended. Though I was afraid to go to California for college, fearing that I would lose the only true friends I had ever made, I got on pretty well. I say all this to say that nothing had prepared me for adult life. I remember upon leaving the University of the Pacific my friend's mom warned me that it would be difficult and she wished me the best of luck. I remember brushing it off. Things had always been so easy for me.

Now sometimes I wander the city of New York wondering what I'm doing. I watch people eating in cafĂŠs or shopping in Whole Foods while I buy my $3 wine and I wonder if anyone feels as confused about life as I do. I'm struggling to find a job and sometimes I lie in bed wishing I could just fast forward to the part where I have my shit together. Where I'm living in a quaint apartment and doing the simple things I like to do without the fear of ending up in poverty looming over my head. Sometimes I'm in bed, looking


out at the lights coming from other buildings and hearing cars rush past and I miss my mother so dreadfully. I wish I were a kid again and I could climb into her bed and feel better in the morning. But then there are moments when I realize that these struggles are making me the person that I'm going to be. Moments where I'm with my friends and I realize that I'm cultivating the relationships that will carry me through my life. I've learned since leaving school that life is unbelievably scary. There is nothing more frightening than looking up and realizing that you have to take care of yourself. That your emotional and physical well being is in your hands. And even scarier is knowing that you'll fuck up because everyone does and that it could take you years to repair the damage. Sometimes, I feel laughably inept. Like when I'm in the grocery store wondering how the hell my mother managed to come home with groceries that made actual sense. I push my little cart up the cramped aisles of New York grocery stores and think, "Am I doing it? Am I adulting yet? Are these the

things that adults buy at the grocery store?"

ments when I stared out at those lights outside my window and missed my mother so much I could cry. I'll be glad for There are still these moments them because I'll know they where I still feel like that lead me to where I was meant little girl in Alabama. That to be. The thing is, I don't same sense of wonder. That know where I'll be tomorrow or same yearning for connection the next week. I don't know and honesty and adventure. where writing will take me. I That same sense of play and of don't know if writing will confusion. I remember that I'm take me anywhere. And I'm sure not the only 24 year old who a lot of us in our early-ish still feels like a kid pre20s feel the same about their tending to be an adult. I re- own lives. But I guess that's alize that I may never feel just part of it. Managing each like an adult. In a way I neuroses as it comes up until think we are all just winging you quiet yourself. It's someit. Just improving our way thing we have to constantly through each of life's stages remind ourselves of. but some of us are very good "Everyone's done this before. at keeping our cool about it. Everyone's felt this before." And some of us are very lucky Just keep saying it. to have things happen just "Everyone's done this before. when we need them to. But for Everyone's felt before." Just the rest of us, knowing that keep daring yourself to put we aren't alone and knowing one foot in front of the oththat early adulthood is when er. Just keep soothing yourwe're just getting started. self and walking forward even When we're fucking everything if you don't know where you're up and rebuilding everything. walking to. It's all you can Knowing that will just have to do. So do it. be enough to get us through. Being an adult is by far the most challenging emotional road trip I've ever been on. But I have faith that one day I will be making a cup of coffee in my apartment that I share with no one but myself and I'll be glad for those mo-





Illustrations also by Emily


IT WAS ALL WHIRLWIN Words by Sophie, illustration by Beth

The media bombards us with information and

more than me and that that consequently

images, telling us that life is short and that we

means they are leading more fulfilled lives. I see

should live each day like it’s our last and con-

photographs of exotic locations, fun days in

stantly be in a state of adventure seeking. How- sunny parks with friends, dates in cute cafes ever, life is the longest thing that we will ever

and other such FOMO inducing aesthetics that

experience. We have a roughly 1% chance of dy- bring to question, ‘are these people living their ing today, so this day is likely not your last, and lives more/better/in a more worthwhile way maybe we’re too tired to seek adventure and

than I am? Should I be outside trying to replicate

would rather snuggle up for a TV marathon in-

these adventures?’


I have never been frightened of seeking adven-

I scroll through my Instagram feed gripped with ture and leaving my comfort zone quite thrilling. a kind of paranoia that everyone else is doing


When I was six years old, sitting in my grand-

ND, HEAT AND FLASH mother’s sundrenched back garden in the mid-

experience can seem like a new adventure.

dle of summertime family get-togethers, my old- However, in this mindset it can be easy to glamer cousin would ask me if I wanted to ‘go on an

ourise terrible situations such as engaging in

adventure.’ Of course I did. I had been waiting

sexual activity that you’re unsure about or tak-

all day for him to ask me that question. We

ing drugs just because you want to know what

would leave the garden through the back gate

it feels like. At a party last summer, my friend

and walk about the suburban neighbourhood of and I lay down on the grass and looked at the garages and corner shops. Although walking

stars and likened our situation to Jack Kerou-

round the block no longer holds the same tan-

ac’s ‘On The Road’. In reality, we were both just

talising fascination that it did ten years ago

a bit drunk and had leaned out of a game of

(unless I am listening to ‘Pure Heroin’ whilst I

spin the bottle in which we hoped we wouldn’t

walk), I like to think of it as a metaphor for the

have to kiss anyone gross. I have started to

more adventure seeking parts of my personality sneak out in the middle of the night just for the


sake of it. One time a friend rang me when I

A few years ago, instead of giving up something was ready for bed so I got changed to meet her for Lent, my friend and I decided to say ‘yes’ to in the middle of the night but I left still wearing every opportunity for 6 weeks. We attended

my retainer. Perhaps these factors make such

Spanish film club though neither of us studied

adventures less glamorous, but at the same

Spanish and we entered a school gym competi-

time they make them much more epitomising of

tion (and came in second!) even though I’m

teenage years in a nostalgia ridden way.

hopelessly inflexible. Somehow I have tried to

These are things I have been thinking about a

carry this philosophy through today.

lot recently because there are a lot of things

Adventures in books and films have an unshak- that I would commit to under the pretence of adventure in order to escape the singing regret able glamour about them that is often difficult to translate into everyday life. Going on a walk

that I fear will grip me as I lie on my death bed

somewhere different and letting yourself get lost some day in the future. Adventure is definitely an important way to feel free and the text on for a few hours or driving with no destination can feel like an adventure. But where do we

the cover of Sonic Youth’s ‘Goo’- I STOLE MY

draw the line between healthy escapism and


adventures where the main appeal lies in their


danger? Teen years are a time when this kind of KILLED MY PARENTS AND HIT THE ROAD- still sounds edgy and exciting to me but, in reality, adventure appeals the most. It is a way of escaping the clutches of routine, asserting inde-

killing your parents wouldn’t be that great. I’d

pendence, and a way of coping with everyday

rather go for a walk or something.

adolescence stresses and struggles. Every new


Nicolas’s blog

In the heat of that soft-pink hour, the grass was my domain and the weeds my subjects. Elfin flowers engendered by an un -aged hand twisted through the lilliputian forest, then scattered, tossed against the dreamy sky. And still when the last light disappeared behind the walnut trees, sucked back into the sun to burn another day, the dusk was my delight as unknown sprites crept out of the sylvan palace of my mind. I was a writer and didn’t even know it yet. When the darkness finally drove me inside and sent me up the stairs two-atta-time to brush my teeth and hop into bed, a single dark spot opened up at the back of my pastel bedroom. Where fairytale sleep-scapes should have bloomed in endless colour lurked a thousand deaths, glassy-eyed Doomsters waiting to wrench me from heart-embroidered comfort. Even when mother’s hand swept a trembling lock from my face, speaking in soothing tones because nothing’s in the dark not one thing just try and get some sleep you’ll feel better, my


By Rachael

body froze while my brain turned to liquid fire, burning with the demons that phantom-grasped at my spotless soul. An overactive imagination, I’m sure. Fly across an ocean of time and you’ll find me here, the demons very real and living in an untended cavern (which was once filled with cloudshine but where did it all go?). Standing on the inward chasm of happenstance, my lungs turn to wings, inverted and clipped long before flight was possible or even the echo of an idea. The fate-feathers make a careening sweep over Life, but I am already un-selfed, a shadow that stole its own form to make a home among the bottomfeeding heart pains. The sky isn’t pink, and neither is the feeling I get when I cut my finger on the blank page, red ink sprawling like the birth of a mystery.




My biggest journey and adventure of the year so far has been one not of actual dist ing almost 19 now, it was my 18th birthday about a year ago and that was a very ber that the artist I was studying in college at the time created his first exhibition at living daylights out of me. Every second after my 18th that I spent not working or a failure. I was often complimented on my work in the sense of how young I was, how girl so young could have such strong views and prominent longing to be an artist. B how every second that passed I was getting older, less likely to get that compliment another failed late-30-something artist. Some form of ticking time bomb that was fu made ideas that was eventually just going to blow up in my face. Terrified of that id local gallery which I admired and sent all my work over, asking for an exhibition wh


tance, but of achievement. Bescary thing for me. I rememt age 18 and that scared the achieving, I felt like I was a w 'interesting' it was that a But all I could think about was t, more likely to fade away as ll of paint and glitter and undea, I panicked. I emailed a which would focus as a final

Words and photos by Georgia

piece for my college course, within the same day of deciding to do this. And they said yes. It is unbelievable that I sat there for so many months thinking about this horror, when I could have just emailed at any point. And here I am, almost 19 with two exhibitions under my belt; one with a collective and one solo, with the room packed on all nights at both exhibitions. I am incredibly proud of my worrying nature and my ability to over think everything, because without them I would never be able to scare myself into doing things that send me on wonderful adventures with my work, meeting new people and exploring new ideas. To every female artist out there who is feeling to same: do something. You are wonderful and if you feel so strongly about your art then it is worth the effort of emailing galleries and collectives and zines, it is worth the shitty feeling of a couple of rejections, it is worth anything that stands in your way.



FAR AWAY By Ophelia Featuring her cousins and sisters


Isn’t it all you wanted? Story by Sophie, photos and illustrations by Beth Brodie sat on Joe’s bedroom floor, holding her pen between her teeth and resting her chin in her hand. Outside, golden sunshine was bursting through the spaces in between tree branches and the popular kids were at the park, drinking cherry coke and smoking Marlboros. Joe stood in the doorway with iced coffee for them both. His silhouette was outlined with a pale yellow glow. Brodie looked at him, then back out to the light between the leaves on the trees and thought how very beautiful they both were. Joe flicked through his collection before putting a record on the turn table. Soon, the sound of a folky female singer trickled through. Her voice was smooth. It sounded of the summertime.

“Hmm. It’s pretty how the sunlight spills between the leaves on the tree in your garden,” Brodie observed, before taking a sip of coffee. “Who says the observer lives less than the participant, huh? Observers live much more fully and each day the sky is a different texture and the trees change shape and the poems become more beautiful. Life’s paralysing in one way or another so we may as well lie around and philosophise.” “But if something’s happening I wanna be a part of it,” Brodie said.

“I know what you mean but there’s so much pressure to BE something and I dunno if I’m ready for that. It’s easier to talk some poetic shit about the sky than “What’s up?” Joe asked, crossing his legs try to start living,” Joe said. on top of a pile of Aztec print cushions put in place to pad out the wooden flooring, “Perhaps,” said Brodie, despondently. “You look glum.” “You don’t really think that those posers at “I ache,” Brodie sighed, stretching her the park are living their lives more than arms above her head. Joe pulled an ox- us?” blood cushion from beneath him and held “No. Not more, just more,” she paused, it out to Brodie. “More, well, we’re in here. And they’re. The right side of Brodie’s lip curled up- They’re out there” she said disjointedly. wards. “No. I ache for love. I ache for adventure, for freedom, for the ecstasy of feeling alive.” Her eyelashes batted down to examine the dark wooden floor as the words passed her lips. “It’s the weather,” Joe replied, “Look at the sky. It’s begging you to do more, live more, be happier; something about the shade of blue and the white fluffiness of the clouds.”


“I don’t like hot weather,” Joe said. “Ooh, how edgy!” “Seriously, Brodie, those guys just get drunk and fuck each other. You can dress it up however you want, y’know? Make it seem glamorous. Like some big adventure. But it’s not. It’s nothing like On The Road and none of them have ever even heard of Jack Kerouac.”

“Yeah, but it’s more adventurous than way that she annoyed at herself for being this.” fascinated. The few times she had been in his presence, he hardly spoke, but stared “Shut up. This is a good record.” menacingly ahead in a brooding manner. “And you do make great coffee,” Brodie He always gave the impression that he was smiled, “Plus your deep, meaningful in- thinking very hard about something very sights add a gorgeous ambience.” important. However, Joe had confirmed “Well I’m afraid my gorgeous ambience is that this was not the case because the only going to have to leave you,” Joe said before things that Tyler had any time for were downing the remnants of his iced coffee girls and drugs. and standing up. “Where are you going?” “Yeah, I’m really sorry but I’ve got to go to college this afternoon,” Joe explained, “But you can stay here if you like. There’s food and drink in the kitchen. Just don’t open the Aero, it’s mine. And you can listen to records or watch a film or read something. Or you can go home if you want. I probably won’t be back until this evening but the house will probably stay empty til then.” “I’ll stay.”

Brodie had never been in Tyler’s room before. There was a stark difference between his and Joe’s room. Joe’s smelt of the candles he always burnt, whereas the overwhelming scent in Tyler’s room was a heavy, musty odour that its inhabitant had unsuccessfully tried to mask with a faint fragrance of Lynx. The walls were bare but stained with blue tack and marked where sellotape had ripped off the paint. There were a few clothes draped across the room and the bed wasn’t made. Brodie walked through to the bathroom.

“Right. Well. The main toilet’s broken. You As Brodie washed her hands, the sound of can use the one through Tyler’s room if the front door opening and closing reached you need to.” her ears. She unlocked the “Can’t you stay?” “No. Sorry. Deadlines. Today’s been nice though.” “Alright then,” Brodie shrugged, “I’ll walk to the door with you.” Brodie held the front door open and watched Joe walk down the road. His tall shadow danced along behind him. She closed the door only when Joe’s figure was out of sight. She stood at the front door for a couple of minutes before turning round to go back upstairs. She walked through Tyler’s room to the toilet. Tyler had always fascinated Brodie, in a

bathroom door but, before she could leave, Tyler was entering the room, dragging a girl behind him. Tyler was busily confirming that they had the house all to themselves as they undressed. Brodie tried to speak or make a noise to make them aware of her presence but found that she could not. She tried to at least look away but, as much as she willed herself to, found that she could no more look away than leave the bathroom. Afterwards, Tyler lay on the bed whilst the girl got dressed and ready to leave. The whole scene

jarred her depressingly, but still Brodie could not look away. Once Tyler was alone again, he put his arms behind his head, looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Then his eyes slowly surveyed the room, from left to right; until he reached the bathroom door. There, his gaze froze and his mouth opened in shock. He did not try to cover himself. Instead, his eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth curled up in a sneer. Brodie looked around her in mortification as he fixed his stare on her.

stared into Tyler’s shadowy brown eyes and pouted her lips with a newly born confidence. “Well?” Tyler inquired once more.

Brodie nodded slowly, still somewhat stunned by what was happening. Tyler undressed her then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. Brodie thought that he was treating her much more kindly than he had treated the girl he was with earlier. Perhaps that’s because he knew Brodie better or because he always Tyler got up from the bed and walked to thought of her as his little brother’s friend. the bathroom. “Did you watch that?” he said, tilting his head to the side in a spite- Brodie got up to leave when they had finished but Tyler held her arm and said, ful curiosity. “Stay.” “What? Wha? No. W? I,” Brodie began.

“But—” Brodie began. She had not assumed

“You’re lying” said Tyler, “You watched the that he would want her to stay. Like Joe had whole thing.” said, all he was interested was girls and drugs.

“I was just—” Brodie struggled with her People like that don’t make for the liveliest conversationalists. words again. “No. Stay. I want to talk,” Tyler said, “Just lie

“Do you wanna do that with me?” Tyler back down.” asked, raising his dark eyebrows. “What? I—” Brodie cursed herself for not being able to articulate a full sentence. Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation struck her. How was she supposed to speak properly in a scenario like this? She tried to piece her thoughts together and, in doing so, considered the proposition. Tyler was very good looking and her summer was turning out to be very dull. This would make it more interesting again. She would no longer ache so badly to start living. This would be living. She

Brodie did as he said and stared at the ceiling, trying to see why it currently held Tyler’s attention so unwaveringly. She was suddenly very aware of the weight of her body and the way she was positioned. She moved around a bit but however she lied she still felt awkward and uncomfortable. Tyler had said that he wanted to talk but it seemed like a lifetime before he opened his mouth again. “You know, I don’t wanna be like this,” he said, “Like, with that girl you saw earlier.” Brodie nodded. “It’s just, you know, a distraction, isn’t it?” he said, “You and Joe have your books and whatever else it is you do and talk about. And I have this,” he paused, “And I know you don’t necessarily approve but I’m not trying to please anybody. I’m selfish and mean and bad.”

Brodie, once more that day, found that her lips “No you don’t,” Tyler said, “You don’t need anywere locked and she could not reply. She had thing if you’re gonna start a new life.” never imagined that Tyler would confide in her “We don’t have any money,” Brodie said, still this way. not convinced. “It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything,” “Yeah we do” Tyler explained, getting half Tyler said, sensing her discomfort, “Just stay dressed then pulling out a box from under the here a while longer.” bed. Inside were wads of cash. Brodie succumbed to the same selfBrodie wrapped a blanket that was lying on the consciousness as before as they lay in the floor around her and rushed over to the other brightly lit room in naked silence. side of the bed. “Where—?” she began. Then Tyler spoke again, “I don’t know, don’t Tyler sighed. “I sell drugs. Do you hate me you ever feel down about being you?” now?” Brodie finally found herself able to reply, “Yes. Brodie shook her head. I think everyone does,” she paused and added a more personal observation, “In many ways I “Great, well we’ll take this and get out of here. Get dressed. I’ll take some food and drink from wish that I was more like you.” the kitchen then we’ll drive,” Tyler explained. “Oh really?” Tyler said, turning onto his side to look at Brodie, who was still staring at the ceil- Brodie put on her clothes to the sound of Tyler’s feet rushing down the wooden staircase. ing, “Why?” She got ready as quickly as possible, for fear “You’re right. I do use books as my distraction, that she would change her mind if given a secas you put it. But there’s only so much you ond to be still and think. She decided to can read before you need to actually start livwrite a note to Joe so she went back into ing. I read about people like you, people who actually do things instead of just sitting round his room for a pen and paper. Sorry she reading about them. I’m so tired and bored wrote. Then, thinking it sounded more like with my life and who I am. Sometimes I just a brief suicide note than a goodbye one she wanna run away and start anew. Somewhere threw it away. Instead she wrote, Gone completely different where no one knows my away for a bit. Speak soon. Sorry. Goodbye name or what I’m like. Or just never stop any- xxx. Brodie started to have second where and just keep travelling. Just drive and thoughts as she looked around the comfort drive and drive.”

of Joe’s room. She would be safe in this fa-

“Let’s do it then,” Tyler said, alertly. Brodie miliar place instead of going away with a turned to look at him now. “I’m serious. I’ve got boy she hardly knew who was sure himself a car. I can drive. Let’s go wherever we want.” that he was bad. It would be easier to rest

within the books and the records and the candles than to dive into the unknown “You don’t hate me, do you?” Tyler asked. with Tyler and his brooding personality. “No. No. In fact, I think I’m beginning to quite She was about to sit on the bed and relike you,” Brodie admitted. think her decisions when she heard Tyler’s “Good. Well, I like you too, so let’s run away voice calling her from downstairs, “Brodie. together. We don’t have to ever come back,” We’re ready to go.” Brodie didn’t answer.

Tyler said.

With a rush of adrenaline, she propelled

“But I need to go and pack some stuff,” Brodie herself forwards, before rushing downstairs protested.

to join Tyler. Tyler was holding a loaf of

bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a six Brodie got out her phone to use as a torch pack of beer. “Ready?” he asked. but found that it had run out of battery. She would just have to keep Tyler in sight. Brodie nodded vigorously. “Let’s go,” he said. Once strapped in the passenger seat, Brodie thought, “There’s no way back now. It’s like when you get on a rollercoaster and the bars go down.” She looked behind at the house she used to pass on her route to school every morning and watched it get smaller and smaller until they turned the corner. “Where are we going?” Brodie asked. “We’re just gonna drive,” Tyler shrugged.

“This is the sort of place where horror films begin,” Brodie observed. “It’s fine. There’s no one around for miles” Tyler assured. “Exactly” Brodie said quietly.

Tyler found a spot of dry land and sat down. He opened a can of beer and passed one to Brodie. They drank quickly and in silence. “What are you thinking?” asked Tyler, a while later.

“Got any music?” Brodie asked.

“I’m thinking that this adventure of ours “Have a look down there” Tyler said, is in the wrong place at the wrong time,” pointing at a compartment on the inside Brodie said. of the car door. “What do you mean?” Brodie looked through the five CDs that Tyler kept in the car and decided that she’d rather sit in silence. That’s what they did.

“I just took up my first opportunity to get out of town,” Brodie explained, “Perhaps I should’ve waited, that’s all.”

Brodie frowned, “Sounds dangerous.”

someone’s here.” Another shot.

“I thought the new you was all about danger. You want adventure, don’t you?” Tyler asked, his eye sparkling under the moonlight.

Brodie turned to move closer to Tyler. Then she realised that the second shot had been fired by him.

Tyler didn’t reply, but stared angrily into “It’s getting dark now,” said Tyler, “We the distance. should stop off overnight somewhere. We Then there was a gun shot. “Who’s out can sleep under the stars.” there?” shouted a bellowing voice, “I know

Brodie sighed. They drove for a few more miles longer before turning onto a country lane. There, they pulled over and Tyler opened the door. Brodie followed. Tyler opened the boot and took out the beer before carefully making his way through the boggy land.

“Where the fuck did you get a gun?” Brodie screamed. Tyler didn’t reply. He put the gun into the back of his jeans and stood up to find his victim. “Where are you going?” Brodie shouted after him, “We need to get out of here. They could still be out there.”

“There should be a dry bit of grass some- “They’re not out there,” Tyler said. where along here” he shouted back at Brodie, “Just follow me.”

“How could you know?” Brodie said, and for sleeping with Tyler and angry that she then caught up with Tyler and realised had not just stayed in Joe’s room. what he meant. Brodie sat up as the sun rose. It looked so Tyler was standing over the farmer’s dead beautiful. Joe was right about the observer body. living just as fulfilled a life as the partici“You killed him” Brodie said, “You killed pator. Now, however, the unadulterated him. You killed him. He was just a farmer. beauty of the sun rise was tainted with He didn’t mean any harm. You killed him. Brodie’s haunting thoughts of the night beYou killed him. You were right, you are evil fore.

and selfish and bad.”

“Tyler,” Brodie spoke for the first time in Brodie and turned and ran back in the di- hours, “Where are we going?” rection of the car, but she fell on the une- “Home” he said harshly, “The adventure’s ven ground. She cried out and grabbed her over Brodie. And don’t you tell a soul ankle. Tyler rushed towards her and about last night.” picked her up. Brodie rested her head back on the seat “Get off of me!” Brodie shouted. “We need to get out of here,” Tyler whispered, “Keep your voice down.” Tyler carried Brodie back to the car and lay her down on the backseats. Then he got in the front and started the car. He sped away from the scene, with Brodie crying in the back. As daylight approached, all Brodie could think about was how foolish she had been. She felt nothing but bitter, crushing disappointment. This wasn’t what she had wanted. She had wanted some magical story that was never going to happen. She would be back home soon and all she had gained was a twisted ankle and the knowledge that she had seen someone be murdered. She felt dirty

and cursed herself once more.









Eliza Fernand

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS ISSUE OF CHERRY Our next issue’s theme is FREEDOM and the deadline is JULY 25TH You can submit here or send stuff to: You can follow us on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and, of course, Issuu


The fourth issue of Cherry, a feminist/art/photography/everything zine

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