Rugged Spring 2022

Rugged Spring 2022

Rugged

The Literary Arts Magazine of Bishop Dunne Catholic School

Rugged Celebrates 10 Years Rugged is the literary arts magazine of Bishop Dunne Catholic School, a digital publication of students’ art work and creative writing.

The first issue of Rugged came out in spring 2012.

Ten years later, the creative work of Bishop Dunne students continues to shine.

This issue features the visual art of two AP senior art students. Emily Fordan and Gabriella Saucedo have contributed paintings and digital drawings that are part of their senior portfolio. Emily’s Wishline Radio project illustrates the wishes of several members of our community.

Ella’s paintings explore the anxiety and uncertainty many seniors feel as they look at life after high school.

Anatomy Lesson Photograph, Body paint Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

This theme is echoed in the poems and short stories in this issue. Senior Meghana Lammata investigates fears of a new a college student in her “Menu of Fears.” Junior Kendall Washington’s poems examine disappointment and the perennial desire to do better.

Aniyah Odom’s short story deals with sacrifice and love, and how much one will give up for another. “The Motherly Monster” is at the center of this issue.

Thanks to the student contributors and many thanks to their teachers for guiding them. And thanks to Ms. Kathryn Perry for her assistance.

Melanie M. Gibson, Editor

Page 2

Rugged

What If? Meghana Lammata, Class of 2022

I was speaking with my sister, Saipriya, one day and asked her to tell me about English classes in college. For one assignment, she had to create a menu that illustrated issues or problems.

With that in mind, I made “Menu of Fears.” I wanted to highlight the internal battles many of us combat daily but present it in an ordinary and recognizable form.

Additionally, the menu format allows us to choose to overcome our fears. Some fears we grow out of as we gain strength through age and experience, and others seem to follow us for a lifetime.

Nonetheless, the first step in dealing with fears is to become aware of them.

Rugged

Page 3

Face of My Anxiety Painting Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

What If? Meghana Lammata, Class of 2022

What if we lived in a world where we celebrated failure?

What if we dealt with rejection and acceptance as simply as an outcome rather than an indication of our worth?

What if we praised others for their efforts as compared to their accomplishments?

What if we were truly kind to people because we don’t know their entire story?

What if we not only preached good virtues but acted on them as well?

What if the villains in the story were just victims?

What if the heroes in the story were the actual villains?

What if we stopped caring about the taunting numerical amount (likes, follows, shares) that seems to hinder our personal development?

What if we stopped holding such high expectations of others?

What if we stopped judging others as if we were so perfect?

What if we just took the time to listen instead of being so ready to assume?

What if we just didn’t care about what others think of us?

What if passion was prioritized over practicality?

What if prestige was treated as overrated?

What if we viewed education as a treasure instead of a task to be completed?

What if we valued the little things in life?

What if we desired happiness rather than a superficial finale?

What if we recognized the unrecognized?

What if we presented authentic representation all across the media?

What if?

Wishline Radio Portfolio Emily Fordan Class of 2022

Senior Emily Fordan has been working on her portfolio for Advanced Placement Studio Art for her entire senior year. Students conduct a sustained investigation inquiry and answer that through their art. Art department chair Mrs. Allie Ramirez teaches AP Art and oversees these portfolios.

Emily called her project Wishline Radio Station, and she explains it here:

“Imagine a place brimming with swirling stardust, lit by a cozy haze of orange string lights, and humming with whirring technology. The ceiling is but an endless sea of galaxy, the buttons lining the walls an infinite array of mosaic pattern. You’ve stepped into a pocket dimension, a world of my own design, known as the Wishline Radio Station—where dreams are illustrated. The radio show host receives calls coming from people sharing their wishes, then through the magic of the Wishline, I portray that in my art. Whether it be a comfortable retirement under the sea or playing music for a living, my AP Art Portfolio investigates how I depict the wishes of incoming callers. Throughout my work in my 2022 AP Art Concentration, I have discovered that the value of art manifests in the eyes of the beholder and the hands of the creator.

It is the artist and the viewers that give the work meaning. I always enjoy drawing, but it is even more gratifying to see the reactions of the people I draw wishes for and how they are moved by my work. In fact, I hope to continue this concept even after my Art Portfolio is due, because of growing interest.”

If you’re interested in a Wishline art piece, you may contact Emily Fordan at emifordan22@outlook.com. She will be accepting commissions this summer.

Wishline Radio Emily Fordan, Class of 2022 Emily Answers

Radio Wishline Meghana’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

Radio Wishline Mr. MacLellan’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

Radio Wishline Katelyn’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

Radio Wishline MG’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

Radio Wishline Ella’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

Radio Wishline Mr. Gentry’s Wish Emily Fordan, Class of 2022

The Motherly Monster Story by Aniyah Odom, Class of 2022

Author’s note: I like writing about non-human characters that have more or less human morals. In this story, the main character is a monster that eats humans, but because she adopts an orphaned human child, she put her own desires and needs aside. This particular monster is capable of sacrifice.

“Be careful not to wander too far across the open plains. for after you reach a certain threshold, there will Be nothing But monsters ahead.”

Hunters call it the Tööligan. A giant quadruped creature. A hunter that’s been perfectly molded to be the apex hunter amongst the enormous trees across the plains and over the chasm that separates them from human society. Their bodies are so large that they could squash a cottage flat by accidentally nudging it.

Every good hunter knows to look up when in their forests. Their grotesquely elongated fingers have a long, razor-sharp claw at each end, perfect for climbing and for staying quiet while they do it. Their fur muffles their movements. Their tails keep them balanced and can serve as a weapon to sweep away enemies with surprising strength and ease.

Its preferred prey? Humans. It comes equipped with something that’s fooled many a human. A human face and voice. It’ll call out to you, lead you on deeper into its habitat with worrying cries of “Help!” or even your own name!

All before it finally reveals its face. And once it does? You’re already dead.

Or, at least that’s what the humans like to say about us, I thought as I walked around home, my face turned up to the canopies. I tried to search for my friend before I went off hunting for the night. It was my turn.

“Basque!” I called out. My ears perked at a rustle. “I’m off to hunt! I’ll try and get some almonds for you!” More rustling. He’d come down once I was back with his food.

Facial Anatomy Photograph, face paint Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

I turned to walk off to the edge of the forest. The quiet thud of my front and back hands gave me some peace of mind, but I couldn’t help but feel—was it lonely? There were once more of us. Six, in fact. And we all got along merrily.

No boring days, and we all did our fair share to keep our home safe. We were the closest to the chasm, and the humans were getting bolder. A few months ago, their boldness came to a screeching climax. Basque and I escaped but our hearts were chained as we were forced to watch our friends being dragged over the chasm by the humans.

Those were memories that I strived to suppress every single waking moment of my life.

Lir, Pyrrhus, Bishamon and Bertrand. The finest Tööligans, besides Basque, that I’ve ever had the pleasure of walking and hunting alongside. But…the days when there were just the six of us had long since passed, nothing but bittersweet memories in their wake.

Humans were the source of my pain. Since that day…I make it a mission to devour as many of them as I see until my stomach threatens to burst. I sighed to myself at the memory. I missed my friends. Especially one of them. Once, we had had a conversation about becoming mates.

Suddenly, I was torn from my thoughts at the sound of a cry in the distance. “Hello!” I called out with a luring voice. I crouched down and began to climb and move amongst the branches of the trees. “Hello…!” No answer. “Come here…!”

Still no answer! Was this human a hunter experienced in killing my kind? How entertaining, though Basque was more skilled and more ruthless in hunting our prey. But I was no push-over, either.

“Hello-” I stopped as I came upon a campsite. Abandoned. Things thrown about. The scent of blood hung in the air. As I climbed cautiously down, from the corner of my eye I saw a subtly rocking basket. Coos and small cries emitted from it. My eyes narrowed as I sniffed at the basket, poking at it. More cries. I eventually worked up the nerve to take off the cover.

“Huh?” The baby tilted its head with me as I looked at it.

Once more, I looked around the campsite. People had been here, but they had been gone for a while. Probably dead. I saw blood splatters upon the ground. My attention was drawn back to the baby. I couldn’t just leave it here! It was so sweet, too. it smelt like vanilla! And soap and flowers and other soft scents. Its cheeks were chubby. It was so pudgy it could barely move. It was wellfed by its mother.

“I’ve always wanted a baby,” I murmured as I sat back and picked up the child. I sniffed at it, its giggles and coos making my heart warm faster even while my mouth drooled. It wouldn’t be much of a dinner…but it was like a sweet candy. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to eat it.

I’ve always wanted a baby, even if I’d prefer that it looked like myself and my past love. But this child had no one else. If it didn’t die of neglect, it would be eaten by the wild creatures that roamed the forest—like Basque and me.

“You may not by one of my kind nor I, yours but…we need each other, don’t we?” I began to lean my face closer to the child, its hand reaching up and petting me on the nose.

A child is innocent and unknowing of the dangers and corruption out there. The forest got too quiet at times. Basque was never talkative, but when the rest of our group was with us, he at least smiled. Now all he could do was sit with his rage against the humans. I understood his pain. I missed our friends as well. But I was ready to move on. …

“A

human?! Are you serious?!”

I held the baby away from the claws of Basque, his mouth still bloody from feeding earlier.

“Calm down! We can’t just leave a child out in the forest to die!”

“Yes. We. Can.” He spat. “I knew I should’ve eaten it along with its parents…”

My heart sank. “Basque…”

His fur bristled as his claws sank into the earth. His eyes glowed with rage at the baby I held close to my chest.

“They were hunters, I overheard them. They sought to eliminate our kind, the last two monsters in this forest, to make room for their human buildings, their human farms, and their human…everything!” He snarled, “Let me do us both a favor…let me give mercy to this thing and send him back to his parents-” “Basque!” I hissed, smacking him with my paw as he dared to inch closer. “This conversation.

It never happened,” I spat. “You killed this child’s parents! Now? We have no choice-” “We do have a choice! Kill it!”

“I’d prefer you saying that we send it back to its own kind!”

“And let them create another hunter? Never.”

I glared at him. “I know you hurt. I hurt, too.”

He sucked in a breath and snarled at the child. “Because of humans…our group, they are all dead.” He hissed. “Think about Li-” I stomped a paw and let out a bellowing roar. He didn’t have the right to mention his name… any of their names. They weren’t dead. They were alive! They had to be.

I cleared my throat as I let my tears fall. “No, this conversation is done. I will be caring for this child. The faults of its parents are not his, no matter what humans have done to us…what they’ve taken—" Basque scoffed and turned away at those words, his tail dragging behind him as he looked up.

Hand Anatomy Photograph, body paint Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

I quickly finished my sentence, “—it doesn’t mean an innocent baby should suffer as well,” I finished.

No answer but the scraping of Basque’s claws as he climbed until he disappeared into the canopy. I let a sigh as I looked at my new child. I gently dragged the back of my claw down his face.

“Basque is just sad. But we’ll show him, won’t we?” I took my claw away as the child tried to grab it. “We’ll show him that not all humans are bad…that, though my kind and your kind war against one another, simple kindness can be the key!”

I looked back towards the tree that Basque climbed. “For the simple warmth of someone who cares…it can stop the bloodiest of battles.” …

“Mother!” I looked back to Brydger who trailed after me.

It seemed like just yesterday that I had taken him in, his parents slaughtered by my friend (who remained furious that I was raising a human child). Furious that he couldn’t kill the child who was making a ruckus as he learned to walk, to talk, and even to hunt like us. Despite the young age of seven years, he could climb trees as if he were one of us. And one day, he’d become a fine young man whose heart would be as gold and pure as the sun, his sapphire eyes would reflect nothing but goodness and the will to help others. That is what I constantly wished for and strove to raise him to reflect. His already long brown hair would grow even longer. His dark scarred skin would probably become more scarred. But from what I heard, the humans liked scars.

Scars told stories of battles and wars. When the humans learned his stories, they would let him stay. He’d continue to grow taller and stronger; they would witness his abilities. He would prove himself to be an effective member of human society.

I wished that for him because of late I felt bad keeping him here. He had no friends except me, and occasionally Basque (when I made him swear that he wouldn’t harm my son while I hunted). I wanted my child to find a mate, something he wouldn’t be able to find here. I wanted everything good for him. On this side, where monsters roamed? Rarely anything good came here.

“Yes, Brydger?” I finally hummed. I raised my brow as he presented a stick with a single leaf on it to me. “A stick?”

“A magical one! Basque told me that this stick would give me the power to fly.”

I sucked in a breath as I rubbed my face. That trickster…always seeking ways to shirk his promises to me of keeping Brydger safe! “Humans cannot fly, dear.” I sighed as I pinched the stick in between my claws before tossing it away.

“Why not?”

“You don’t have wings.”

“Then…why don’t humans have wings?”

I chuckled. “If humans had wings along with all their other gifts, they’d be far too mighty and proud.”

My ears moved to Brydger’s humming behind me, a curious little thing. We continued to walk through the pale purple plains we called “Wine-Grass, because the taste resembled human wine with a similar dizzying effect. The skies above us grew ever lighter, mixing blue and orange as the sun came over the horizon. We finally reached the edge.

The Chasm that separated the worlds.

“What’s this ma?”

“The Chasm.”

At the feeling of him tugging at my fur, I lay down to let him onto my back before he crawled up onto my head. “The Chasm is a bridge that separates the world of human and monster,” I explained.

“Why does it separate us?” he asked.

“Humans and monsters don’t get along. Humans capture monsters and either kill us or use us for labor if they can manage to break our will enough.”

Brydger went quiet for a while, his grip upon my fur tightening slightly. My eyes moved to the sight of large electric birds, also known as Krills, flying through the chasm. “Helpers for the humans,” I thought.

“Have humans and monsters ever tried to get along, ma?” Brydger suddenly asked as I moved back from the chasm into the tall grass.

“There’s a reason why humans and monsters don’t have peace treaties, why we don’t converse.”

“What is it?”

How did I tell my human son that we didn’t get along was because my kind ate his? That we considered humans delicacies to be shared when we had gatherings every few years, that we ate no other creatures besides humans because it was a way of keeping up our hunting strategy of mimicry? The fact that I was caring for a human…I was technically playing with my food, being cruel.

And if I were to tell him these things, the question of his parents would come up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him. “...Let us not discuss this anymore. We will go home now.”

…

The forest is quiet tonight. None of the wildlife that roams our forest dares to make a sound.

The wind isn’t rustling the trees, the usual lullaby that kept Brydger asleep for the entire night until the early birds woke him.

But what was that? I heard multiple crackling fires and confused, rabid snarling. I smelled the faint scent of smoke…not the natural type that came from wood but the one that burned from oil.

A disgusting scent that made me hiss as I covered my nose. I stirred and was greeted by the face of Basque right outside my tree’s hollow.

“Basque?” I whispered, slowly uncurling myself from around Brydger before I walked outside the hollow. “What’s the meaning of-” “Humans, a lot of them.” He snarled before his gaze traveled back to Brydger. “...The parents of the boy, the ones I devoured…they were renowned hunters it seems. An entire human settlement has crossed just to burn down this forest.”

A chill ran through me. I haven’t so much as dared to hunt a single human since becoming Brydger’s mother. The thought of eating humans was something I fought off every single day. But, with this threat of our home being burnt to the ground, capture, taken away from Brydger—I shuddered at the thought as my mouth started to drool.

Quickly, I wiped my mouth. “We should run-” “No.” He interrupted, his green eyes glowing in the darkness as he pointed to the forest floor.

“We kill and we eat. All of them. Finally, we get some payback for the hurt they caused us…”

My eyes narrowed at the forest floor as it grew more illuminated by the torches. The sound of angry chanting made me suck in a breath. “What if we see our captured kind? Turned mad and made to serve the humans?”

“We kill them, put them out of their misery of serving such lowly creatures.”

I only nodded my head before I leapt to another tree. My fur bristled with excitement as, after years, I felt like myself once more. I couldn’t stop my mouth from watering as I quickly found a spot on an old tree, wrapped my tail around a sturdy branch, and let myself hang from it.

This brought me back to the days before the other four members of our group were stolen. As the humans grew closer, the disgusting smell of their oily torches made me think of how my group used to cross the land bridge that connected the monster and human lands together. We’d cross like so many others of our kind during the night, to slaughter and feast! The food was bountiful and good, but it didn’t take long before all six of us were recognized and feared by the humans.

Memories filled my head:

Pyrrhus was the stoic and solemn one of our group, a leader, his human face handsome and firm while his eyes were as red as rubies. His fur was a reddish brown mixed with a light orange, a living breathing flame. He and Bishamon were the strongest of our group. They weren’t as swift in the trees as Basque and I were, but they shocked the humans with their strength and ferocity in battle on the ground.

Bishamon was playful and chatty, something that contrasted with his fearsome resting face and even more fearsome battle prowess. He was born with unique mutations. Goat-like, curved horns on top of his head, allowing him to ram into things, and a lump on the end of his tail that hardened over the years to a club. His human face was young and boyish, his golden eyes always bright with life and laughter.

And Lir…my love. His face was handsome, and he had eyes like a clear stream. He and Bishamon were like brothers…both playful and constantly laughing, yet my Lir knew how to be brooding and serious when the time came for it. He was like water that one, judging a situation and changing his fighting style according to the situation. He was slender-bodied, and his fur was a mix of snow-white and orange, the softest I’ve ever felt on a Tööligaan.

And finally, there was Bertrand. Ah, I remember the days when we’d all tease him and call him a tree bear because of his thick fur. He was a gentle and kind soul whose face was always soft and rarely showed signs of anger and malice. He was a protector for our group, that thick brown fur coming in handy as thrown objects stuck in his fur whenever he moved to shield us all.

Why…why couldn’t they have- “Ecajia!” Basque suddenly hissed to me before pointing down.

Ah yes, head in the moment.

I looked down to see humans traveling below, their talking louder now. My eyes narrowed in both amusement and pity. No matter how many times they looked up for any signs of us, their torches couldn’t penetrate the darkness. Our fur, though not useful for hunting in the day, at night left us nearly invisible.

But, as I prepared to launch myself, I saw it. My comrades. Bishamon, Pyrrhus, Bertrand…Lir! Rabid and snarling, gnashing their teeth, their eyes glazed over and confused. I looked back up at Basque, the sight of him retreating a little made me shut my eyes. I couldn’t do it…I’d rather die than kill my love. He wasn’t himself. The humans have broken him…the only one in this life that I’d ever allow myself to love with all my heart and soul.

I just couldn’t. But Basque could. “Basque!” I accidentally screamed out as he launched himself into the fray, his paws slamming repeatedly onto the ground as he let out ghastly roars and swung at those we once called friends.

Basque…! He was so fragile, not made to fight directly. I wanted to help…I wanted to! But my eyes darted between the chaotic scene and then back to where Byrdger still slept. To save my son or to fight to the death along with my friend? This life was becoming more and more unfitting for the likes of me, as the humans grew bolder and sought the lands of the monsters. They captured the wildlife of the monsters and then the monsters themselves, turning them into mindless slaves or killing them outright.

I had nothing much left. But Brydger had so much life ahead of him that he needed to learn. He was still a young human who needed his mother. I needed to keep going. …

It’s been a long ten years since that night. Basque…he is gone. I am the only one of our group left. When I fled the battle, I took my son away and found a new home. It was hard as more forests are being burnt down. There was no room for us monsters anymore. One day, I’d wake up to the face of humans who sought my death. But at least I had one thing going. There was at least one human who knew that monsters had a different side. All my wishes for Brydger were coming true as he turned seventeen. His ability to transition between the monster world and the human world is something I envy. He is a fine young man. Now comes the hard part, getting him to go to the humans. For the life he’s lived since he was a babe is no longer fitting for him.

“You…you want me to go into the human world?” He said, pointing with his spear, confusion heavy on his face. I chuckled as I pushed his weapon down. “I cannot go. The humans have food that I want, and you are the only one who can go.”

“And you’ll just wait here on the other side? Mother, what if-” “You think a few humans will take me down? I’ve seen far too much to be slain in such a manner,” I interrupted with a roll of my eyes.

Byrdger looked me up and down with a suspicious glare. As he grew, I found it increasingly harder to slip by him! What small tricks used to work would no longer. He analyzed every word for a deeper meaning. But I needed to go. Today was the day we parted ways. “...Why do I feel like a farewell is in order, mother?”

A weak chuckle left me. “Never say farewell. Farewells mean that you’ll never see someone again.

I’ll see you again, you must simply go into the human village and collect food, then come back!”

He scoffed as he walked up to me, placing a hand on my leg. “You must really be desperate for those almonds, mother…”

“A way of celebrating the life of an old friend,” I forced out.

This would be the last time I would share a conversation with him, the last time I’d be there to protect him…the last time I’d be able to give my dearest all the love I could offer him. “Go now,” I said as I gave Brydger a pat on the head and nudged him forward with my tail. “I’ll hide and wait.”

He looked back with a small wave of his hand. The moment he turned to cross the bridge, I narrowed my eyes to keep my tears at bay. No matter where he went or what trials he’d encounter, I’d always be by his side in spirit. Never would there be a day where I wouldn’t think about him, whether it was in this life or the next. This was goodbye. It was beyond time for me to go and reunite with my old friends.

The End

Anxiety Painting Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

Poems Kendall Washington, Class of 2023

A new start When the clock turns 12:00 Fireworks and love appear

We say we’ll change A new start We say we’ll be better A new start All to find ourselves doing the same the next year A recurring cycle that never ends until we depart Until we depart earth…

Playground

Used, a used playground is how I feel They slide down me and climb the monkey bars To feel better about themselves and never think to care about me Like a playground I’m used as a safe haven

When I don’t feel safe I feel bothered My woodchips have been walked on Ran across Spit up on Just for them Just for them to have fun

Pride of an Artist Acrylics on canvas Gabriella Saucedo, Class of 2022

Rugged Spring 2022 Bishop Dunne Catholic School 3900 Rugged Drive Dallas, TX 75224 214-339-6561 bdcs.org

Mission Statement Bishop Dunne Catholic School empowers each student to explore, inquire, lead, and serve through a college preparatory education in a joyful community of faith.

Bishop Dunne Library

A Message from the Librarian The Bishop Dunne Library is a place for students to explore and discover the joys of reading, as well as a place to learn the skills to navigate a technologically sophisticated, constantly changing environment.

My mission as the librarian is to help students become lifelong learners, equipped with the tools to navigate, evaluate, analyze, and understand the diversity of information they will encounter throughout their lives.

Rugged began as a platform for students to share their creative work. Like many of the books that are available to students in the library, these works are often not directly

connected to an assignment or to a course; they may sometimes be far from typical classwork.

But learning is not confined to the school walls. Reading, writing, and creating are joyful enterprises that we encourage in every part of our students’ lives.

It is a pleasure to share their work. I hope you enjoy it.

Melanie M. Gibson School Librarian Editor of Rugged