2021-2022 Cambridge Road Literary Magazine

TRANSCENDENCE: Experience Beyond the Everyday

Cambridge Road Literary Magazine

2021-2022

Cambridge Road Literary Magazine

Cover Art “On Top of the World”

by Thomas Paxton

This year’s edition of Cambridge Road is dedicated to

Dr. Daniel Murphy and

Ms. Cathleen Steg, for their years of dedication to Bishop Ireton students’ literary endeavors.

A Letter from the Editor People yearn to find something new: an escape, a refuge.

Somewhere that makes the present world worth living. Somewhere that is theirs to explore, whether they found it by writing, reading, or experiencing.

As writers, photographers, poets, artists, and more, we take refuge in our imaginations. What the physical world lacks, our imagined worlds make up for in bright colors, rich emotions, and vivid characters. Whether it’s through magic, or something closer to home, we invite readers to find a little bit of themselves—the part that hopes and dreams and aspires—in this magazine.

Let us open the gates to our own fictional worlds in Transcendence: Experience Beyond the Everyday.

-Emma Rice, Editor-in-Chief 2021-2022

Table of Contents “Daydreams” by Sammie Johnson.................................................... 7 “Writing Outside the Checklist” by Emma Rice ….......................... 8-9 “Day Shift” by Lucero Carcamo …................................................... 10 “The Medic and the World” by Tatiana Moses …............................ 11 “Puritan Poster” by Meckenzie Letellier …........................................ 12 “How Bob Became a Billionaire Zookeeper” by William Booker ….13-14 “First Sunset” by Lucero Carcamo …................................................ 15 “Wings of Light” by Sophia Molinari …........................................... 16 “I Love You” by Kendall Dunham …................................................ 17 “Tout Seul” by Anabella McDowell ….............................................. 18 “Street View” by Sarah Fleming ….................................................... 19 “Untitled” by Emma Breier …........................................................... 20 “Moonlight” by Bianca Olivieri …..................................................... 21-22 “Night Fall” by Lucero Carcamo ….................................................... 23 “Epiphany” by Vivian Spendley …..................................................... 24 “Untitled” by Aidan McConnon …................................................... 25 “Transformation” by Camilo Gomez …............................................. 26 “1%” by Junior Jones …...................................................................... 27 “Drive” by Jack Nagtzaam …............................................................... 28-30 “The Future is Past” by Nelsa Tiemtoré ............................................ 31-32 “Life as an Ant” by Greydon Stuber ….............................................. 33 “Creation Story” by Christopher Stone …........................................ 34-35 “A Tunnel at Twilight” by Maria Cleary …....................................... 36 “A Bloom in the Wintergreen” by Sorcha Lewis ….......................... 37-38 “On Top of the World” by Thomas Paxton …................................. 39-40

“Runs in the Family” by Kathleen "Red" Delaney …........................ 41-42 “Love is a Refuge” by Adair Shanks ….............................................. 43 “Motion” by Stephanie Dee ….......................................................... 44 “Fleeting Friends” by Matthew Wilson …......................................... 45 “Fatima Sunset” by Elizabeth D’Souza ….......................................... 46 “From Above” by Fiona Fedorochko …............................................. 47 “Untitled” by Elizabeth Jacobs …....................................................... 48 “Heaven Haiku” by Kiera McClanahan ............................................ 49 “Missing Part” by Kendall Dunham …............................................... 50 “Sky Lit Balcony” by Stephanie Dee .................................................. 51 “A Sunrise in Maine” by Charlotte Benson ...................................... 52 “6:15 a.m.” by Sorcha Lewis …........................................................... 53 “A Second Glance” by Emma Rice …................................................. 54-56 “Zombie” by Mayah Tiwari …............................................................. 57 “Queen of Kings” by Allison Dunnegan …........................................ 58 “Icarus” by Sophia Tuminaro …......................................................... 59-62 “Rainy Day in a Classroom” by Kendall Dunham …......................... 63 “Isolation” by Stephanie Dee ….......................................................... 64 “A Blossoming Sign of Spring” by Eleanor Schmutz …...................... 65 “Empty Skies” by Lila Sampilo …........................................................ 66 “The World Fell Apart” by Meredith Tombs ….................................. 67-69 “My Future Awaits with 2022” by Justin Byrd ................................... 70

Acknowledgements …................................................................... 71 Editorial Staff............................................................................... 72

Daydreams

By Sammie Johnson Once upon a time A girl who loved to rhyme She always lost track of time That girl who loved to rhyme

Her head lost in the clouds Her mind was always loud Outside the world was drowned Inside her head a crowd A castle with towers high A hero in the night A battle she would fight Flying in the sky The world in her mind Wasn’t always kind Inside they were confined To the outside, they were blind But how to make them see.

The world inside of me Make them hear her plea To make this world be seen.

7

Writing Outside the Checklist

By Emma Rice

I make checklists for everything. Homework assignments, chores, and gift ideas alike have all found themselves listed in orderly rows in my notebooks or on neon sticky notes. But when it came to my college essay, I quickly found that I didn’t fit into neat lists with tiny boxes (or stars, for what’s urgent), or into the three different college essays that I wrote over the summer. This was especially infuriating, because I see myself as a good writer and a creative person–someone who should be able to write about who they truly are. In fact, my joy for creative writing has become the axis from which all of my other interests have sprung.

I began writing my first story in a yellow 3 by 5 inch notebook with a half-broken pencil and I never finished it. Yet in the process, as a ten-year-old, I imagined myself appearing on television, getting interviewed, and inspiring other little girls who wanted to become authors.

Published as a ten-year-old? No check.

That story—about a particularly belligerent princess who dislikes dresses—sits at the bottom of a fabric-covered bin behind the door of my bedroom. I think. Yet that excitement of experiencing something I’d created ignited a love of stories that led to years more of reading, writing, and thinking.

I have yet to make money from writing. I’m not hoping to be published as a teenager because I know that I have too much to learn and improve on before that happens. That has never stopped me from sitting for hours at a keyboard with sore eyes, tapping madly at 3 am on a summer night as my fan’s soft gusts flutter the papers around me, or scratching random bits of prose in illegible Sharpie on the backs of shopping receipts, or daydreaming during shallow conversations as I imagine myself running barefoot through the halls of a decaying castle… And off I go again.

Although I haven’t always been a writer—typing took too long when I was younger—I have always been a daydreamer. I was 8

the only one who still chatted with her imaginary friends in second grade, because even then my fictional characters were talking to me.

Mentally, I used to narrate my actions as I walked through my house and looked for a snack in the pantry…in third person. Stories, plots, and characters have run through my head since I was five years old, silently playing with my stuffed animals after my parents turned the lights off.

No college offers a major in ‘storytelling.’ At least not one that I could find. So that’s why I’ve turned to the next best things: writing and theatre. When people are sad, or lonely, or looking for understanding, they turn to stories. I’ve turned to stories ever since I could breathe, before I knew what either stories or breathing really were. It seems only right that my future should orient around sharing the characters who soar in my imagination.

I haven’t finished my story yet, though I’ve tried to write it a hundred times. Maybe it’ll take me a lifetime of drafts to find where it will take me. I’m not worried, as I’ve lived my life hopping from one narrative to another, glancing over Alcott and wallowing in Rowling. I know my next story lies not in Hemingway (though I wish), but in college, where I can learn and develop and discover new ways to share my stories. Yet I know I’ll always be that little girl with characters in her head and ink in her veins, talking to her stuffed animals when the house is asleep. Stories have always made me laugh, cry, smile, gasp, shriek, and mourn, but in the end, they made me who I am today: a dreamer, an artist, and a storyteller.

By the way… College essay? Check.

9

Day Shift

By Lucero Carcamo

10

The Medic and the World

By Tatiana Moses Barely scratching the surface of the world unknown It is a beauty, blinding the human eye There is a hope yet to be found Why don’t you follow the path, The path of the hidden whispers The whispers of the secret greatness you hold Breathe in magic’s future, Where a new world awaits the human touch Hands, so soft to grip Heaven’s trust You can raise your hopes for the exceeding moments The moments to rise further thaen human capability A world above our mentality wants us, To follow the dreams that strengthen the soul The soul cries out for a healer, Healing with grace The medics of the supernatural, That enlighten you with the spirits that dwell in the stronghold

11

Puritan Poster

By Meckenzie Letellier (Text of the quote from "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards)

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How Bob Became a Billionaire Zookeeper

By William Booker Once upon a time there was a group of animals: a zebra, a lion, a giraffe, a hippopotamus and a monkey. These animals used to wander around on the streets of South Africa, until one day, a mysterious man named Bob released laughing gas in the air to put all the animals to sleep.

Bob loaded them into the cages he had built. He called this place the zoo.

This man called this place the "Zoo," after a word which has roots back to ancient Greek times. The word "Zoion" means living, and so he decided this would be a suitable name for this place he created. When news reporters came to interview him, they were amazed that he was able to move all the wild animals into this area together. Though they were amazed with his place's vibrancy, they also wondered why he had chosen the name he did for his place. He responded, "I used to be a zoologist who studied animal bones, and so I thought the name, "Zoo," was fitting."

The next day, the man's actions faced controversy. After a long and hard-fought court case, the judge came to the conclusion that what the man did was completely lawful. The judge ruled that the man's actions were lawful because Bob convinced her none of the animals would be harmed. The world was amazed by the man's ability to win the court case, and so they wanted to see the results themselves. People came from all over the world to see the amazing animals.

Bob fed the animals every morning, every afternoon, and every night, but eventually he noticed that he was running out of money. Bob decided to open his zoo to the public and charged people five dollars for entry. He added amenities like vending machines and hired people to help. He hired someone to run the concession stands and someone to look after and care for the animals. After several months Bob's animal caretaking team grew. However, one day, Bob received a complaint that there was not a wide variety of animals to see, and that the kids were starting to find the zoo boring. Bob knew kids around the world loved the animals and kept asking if there were other animals in the world. So one day, Bob left the zoo to discover more animals. His search was stressful, he had discovered a family of gorillas, ten monkeys, three pandas, and more lions. Bob once again put them to sleep so he could load them into his large van and add them to his zoo.

When people began returning to the zoo, they were amazed to see that Bob managed to find more animals. People absolutely loved the monkey exhibit which brought the most attention to the zoo. People also loved seeing the cute pandas. Since the zoo was becoming more and more popular, the zookeepers were getting more busy and tired after long days 13

of work. When they had to feed the animals, they always fed the gorillas last because they were the hardest to feed. When Bob opened the gorilla cage the gorilla jumped right towards Bob and grabbed him. The zookeepers were startled and couldn't find anything to do to help Bob. One zookeeper, Sam, was able to regain his focus and came up with the idea of throwing more food into the cage; this caused the gorilla to let him go, which saved Bob's life. After that terrible accident, Bob vowed never to work as a zookeeper again. Bob states that “I will never work as a zookeeper again.”

Because of the incident, the zookeepers came up with a new system to help them feed the gorillas. They had a glazier come and drill a hole in the cage that allowed it to open and close so that the zookeepers didn't have to be in the cage with the gorillas to feed them. After a couple months the zoo became a weekend destination for families and a weekday destination for school field trips.

Bob decided to open another location in the United States.

Because all the animals in Bob's first zoo had babies, he was able to open a new zoo in Washington D.C. with the babies. Bob came up with another creative idea and attracted many customers. The customers loved watching the young animals grow up, which attracted many people to come every week. Soon zoos began appearing around the world because of Bob's idea.

Bob will forever be remembered as the person who created zoos.

When Bob came to D.C. to check on the zoo, he was amazed at how many people visited and how much money it made. Bob is now a multibillionaire and no longer works as a zookeeper. The money, however, keeps flowing in. Bob lives in a penthouse in Miami and relaxes at the beach in his free time.

14

First Sunset

By Lucero Carcamo

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Wings of Light

By Sophia Molinari

I remember the day I shined brighter than the sun With my wings of light Refusing to run.

I remember the day I flew faster than the breeze With my wings of air Forever at ease.

I remember the day I was the star in the sky With my wings of flame Forever I’ll fly.

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I Love You.

By Kendall Dunham The night sky will make your sadness quit.

No clouds in the sky: clear like my mind The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

Day is gone - to the pain, I submit Galactic gems that try to remind The night sky will make your sadness quit.

As life is passing fast bit by bit Stars don’t always perfectly align The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

Clouds do not ask if rain is unfit Happiness we are destined to find The night sky will make your sadness quit.

I was lost until your moonlight lit The path that roses clearly outlined The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

Like an asteroid love shot and hit Loneliness failed so It soon resigned The night sky will make your sadness quit.

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

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Tout Seul

By Anabella McDowell The trees are dying My heart cries out in the dark Leaves falling apart Creaks in the darkness of night, Beats to the sound of silence

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Street View

By Sarah Fleming

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Untitled

By Emma Breier

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Moonlight

By Bianca Olivieri Wanting to stare at the moon, staying up throughout the night hoping the day won’t come soon

Yearning for that light at noon in my memory, it’s bright wanting to stare at the moon

Awake in the dark of June, staying awake with all might hoping the day won’t come soon

Still yearning all afternoon I miss the darkness’s light wanting to stare at the moon

In the background, gentle tunes, it's the most beautiful sight hoping the day won’t come soon

I’m always back in my room hoping it won’t end tonight.

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wanting to stare at the moon hoping the day won’t come soon...

22

Night Fall

By Lucero Carcamo

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Epiphany

By Vivian Spendley Waiting, watching, wishing, a search for inherent meaning; Nothing out of place but still, something palpable is missing.

I feel it between my fingers, encroaching upon my skin; I itch, I pine, I wonder, and wander, ferocity within.

Why must I be called this way?

What more could I be doing?

Enthralled by facets beyond the earth, a thirst of unequivocal knowing.

Outside of my body, outside of my mind, fused to a core whose origin I can't deny; I seem to have unearthed the source of my vacancy, for it lies within my source, not within me.

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Untitled

By Aidan McConnon

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Transformation

By Camilo Gomez what a poor performance. why can't you overcome the obstacles? disappointing. so much stress anxiety... it's a curse DO BETTER.

You are a failure I am a failure. the anxiety the stress was all of it really worth it? no, I don't think so it's gonna be alright. in every failure, a lesson is learned so much knowledge gained relax.

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1%

By Junior Jones

27

Drive

By Jack Nagtzaam The Uplift alarm goes off beside my bed. I roll over thinking today must be a school day. As I roll over, I see my cross-country uniform on my desk. It then dawns upon me what day today is. I proceed to make eggs with a banana for breakfast. Afterwards, I brush my teeth and prepare things for the race such as water and my shoes. My mom and I leave the house at 4:30 a.m.

Upon arriving at BI, my mom wishes me luck and I thank her as we go our separate ways for the day. As I walk over to the rest of my team, I notice the weather is chilly yet humid. I greet my close friends and, soon after we board the bus, we depart for the invitational. I notice myself nodding off as the bus falls silent and its movement rocks me to sleep.

Once we get there Aidan, one of my best friends, whom I convinced to join the team with me this year, nudges me, so I wake up.

The first thing I hear is coach Bob's voice telling the boys in the back of the bus to grab the gear for the team and for JV girls to get off the bus first, because they will be the first one’s racing. I grab my bag and follow my team off the bus to where we decide to set up our team’s canopy tent amongst other teams around us. I realize I have some time to kill, because I will be running in the very last race at the invitational which is at 12:00 a.m., and it is currently 7:30 a.m.

The BI Cross-Country Team lays its things down on the tarp under our team's canopy tent and heads over to the walk-through. I walk alongside Aidan and Calvin, some of my best mates on the cross-country team. We joke quite a bit as we examine the course, yet we have a suspicion that this race is going to be one hell of a hard run. There is close to no flat terrain with hills at every corner and section of the course including huge puddles on the trail. We are also surrounded by dense forest and open fields throughout the course. Finishing the walk through, we all sit in the shade to wait until the JV girls run by us so that we can cheer them on.

Halfway until my race starts Aidan and Calvin have just run theirs. They inform me that there is in fact a huge part of the course we did not walk through and that there is a hill on that part of the course that happened to be about 40 degrees in arc. I thank them for the heads-up because I know that if I did not find out about this until I ran that part of the course, I would likely be discouraged from performing at my best.

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I go to use the restroom. I am lucky that there is toilet paper left.

Remaining runners who have not yet run who need to use the restroom happen to be in a very bad situation having to use things such as the roll in the porta potty or who knows what else. I count myself lucky. I jog over to the start line and find Joe, one of the best runners on the team to be one of the first people by the start line warming up. I join him alongside the rest of the B runners including Sergio who is the fastest amongst us, James who is a very strong runner, Kieran one of the strongest on the team, Riley another very strong runner, and Travis who has recently come off a bad leg injury but has been recovering and doing well. We warm up and then run out into the center of the field near where we will start the race and get in a group huddle. One of the seniors leads us in our traditional pre-race chant which is the Direction of Intention. While still in the huddle we chant, “BI XC, BI XC, BI XC!” Then we start yelling like men heading into battle while jumping up and down in our circle.

Following the chant, the JV boys run to the starting line. By this time the other B Varsity teams have lined up at the starting line. My adrenaline is high. I feel my heart throbbing as I remain motionless ready to sprint. I do the sign of the trinity and tuck my golden necklace under my tank top.

The announcer standing to the side announces, “on your mark; get set!” The announcer then shoots the gun into the air. My instincts kick in, I sprint out with my team and runners from other teams in front, behind, and aside me. I start to slow down into my pace before the majority of those that surround me do and I then realize I may have run out too hard in the beginning of the race. I hope that this won't hurt me in the long run, I think to myself. I fall into the group of runners running at my pace. I keep up with them for a good first half of the race. Leaving the open grass trail in the beaming sun, surrounded by high grass and bushes, I follow the trail into the forest. I pass a couple of runners on the opposing teams. I am now in a league of my own. Heading out of the woods I notice there is no one behind me or in front of me for as far as I can see. The sun beats down on me, yet I persist to the next section of the course called Roller Coaster Hills.

This part of the course is quite self-explanatory. The very last hill on this roller coaster is the one I dread the most. I trudge up the hill with all my might as my team cheers me on. I hear coach Bob yell, “One more mile; Jack you got this!” Two kids pass me on the hill. I then pass one of them leading to the end of the trail. Then I use the rest of my energy to sprint to the finish line. I pass six people. Turning a sharp corner for the short distance of the race remaining I elbow a kid to run by him. I pass one more person but the kid I elbowed passes me right before I finished the race. I am out of breath and commend the opposing racer who outran me in the sprint to the finish line by giving him a fist bump and saying that he was tough. Soon following me 29is Travis and the remaining racers.

While I walk back to the canopy with Aidan, one of the many people who cheered me on at the end of the race, I reflect upon the race. I don’t run hard and push myself to run faster for medals. I don’t push myself to improve as a runner for the sensation of a runner's high. I push myself to run harder because I strive to be the best I can be. In sixth grade, when I first started running, I could barely run around my block, which is less than a mile, without stopping. Now I can run a 5k in twenty-one minutes.

David Goggins, a formal Navy Seal, inspires me, and I try to live by one of his sayings, “don’t be motivated, be driven.” As I’ve learned and have been told, motivation comes and goes. However, if you are driven, nothing will stand in your path.

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The Future is Past

By Nelsa Tiemtoré Free at last.

The future is the past as the past predicts the future and the future reflects the past. an endless cycle of laundry that wrings me over and over to the point that I’m too wrinkled to even reach the dryer for folding rinse, rinse the wounds, wash out the blood, and patch it up with bandages but the scars still scream battle cries they beg to be shown and understood but refusing to reveal them is easier just scrub harder and faster till the skin is raw and clean till it cracks again and bleeds The wound deepens.

Free at last.

31

The future is the past as the past predicts the future and the future reflects the past.

32

Life as an Ant

By Greydon Stuber

33

Creation Story

By Christopher Stone In the beginning, the world was a lawless place. The strong lived in constant competition, and the weak in fear. Tribes lived and fought with each other constantly over land and resources. They had no way to settle their differences except for war with each other. They needed to change, but they had no example to follow.

Eventually, the tribes formed alliances through marriage and would barter with one another. Trade had been invented. As trade became more common throughout the land, people became tired of fighting. They lost loved ones, family members, and business partners. And so they decided to change. The main change was a decision not to fight, but how would they settle their differences? There were 32 tribes in total. They were split roughly in half by a great river. Sixteen tribes on one side, sixteen on the other. The two groups formed two councils, which both reached a simple resolution: there needed to be some way to settle differences that did not include violence.

After a meeting between the two councils, they decided to create a game that people could use instead of violence. It was called “Pig Skin”. The game included a ball wrapped in pig’s skin and was played on a field with two goal posts. The object of the game was for one team to run the ball past the goal posts, while the other team tried to tackle them. After scoring, the team would kick the ball between the posts for an extra point.

The game continued until one team held a seven-point lead over the other. The game was aggressive, with blocks and tackles. It was, however, much safer than battle.

At first, the game was played exclusively within tribes. Families would compete against each other for prizes, oftentimes money or other goods.

As time went on, the game became more advanced, with specific plays being created, and positions assigned. Everyone enjoyed the new game.

When the village elders saw the enjoyment and bonding that the game brought to people, they held yet another council among themselves. They decided that the game was extremely beneficial to their people and would become common practice not only within specific tribes, but among all of them. They created a league, with one team for each tribe, with two conferences, one for the tribes West of the great river, one for the tribes East of it. The two conference’s teams would play each other in a yearly tournament. The end of the tournament would conclude with a game called “The Tribal Bowl”, in which the best team from each tribe would compete for the Tomahawk Trophy.

34

As the tribes grew, the game became more popular, and the rules changed.

Eventually, the game would grow into the one that we know and love as Football. The Europeans eventually adopted the game. They continued to evolve the rules, but kept many of the traditions of the Native Americans.

As the game became popular in Europe, they began monetizing it. They built arenas in which the game could be played in front of spectators, and engineered cleats, pads and helmets for the players so that they would not injure themselves during the game. They created teams of their own, with multiple leagues, from professional leagues to school leagues. As the expansion of the game progressed, it eventually became the football that we enjoy today.

35

A Tunnel at Twilight

By Maria Cleary

36

A Bloom in the Wintergreen

By Sorcha Lewis A bloom in the wintergreen something so rare, so strange that no one wants to believe.

“If it’s real then that means they were right,” They would say.

We have this luxury called opinion Believing others is hard when you want to be right No one wants to admit they’re wrong.

A bloom in the wintergreen No matter how real it might be, Still, no one wants to believe.

Everyone caught up in their own reality.

No matter how true they say “It’s fake.”

It’s okay to let them believe what they want They’re the ones being made a fool.

You just let your own thoughts glisten Teach the people that want to listen: Be the world’s tool but don’t be made a fool.

37

A bloom in the wintergreen exists - I swear Seeing is not believing, no matter what you hear Everyone around you likes to think their own thoughts.

It's okay to disagree but not out of fear Whatever they preach should not so much bother It’s merely just an adhering procedure.

You’re okay - you’re not wrong You were just put in a world filled with people Who abuse their free will and opinion Who force their opinion on others But when the tide starts to shift These same people grow with anger.

So a bloom in the wintergreen Is nice and rare Believe it for however long you might care.

You might want to change but don’t start to fear The world is only as scary as you appear.

38

On Top of the World

By Thomas Paxton

39

On Top of the World

By Thomas Paxton

40

Runs in the Family

By Kathleen "Red" Delaney I remember when my parents presented me with my ring. To anyone else, it appeared to be an ordinary ring. A basic silver band that was bent to look like mountain peaks. But that ring was anything but ordinary because nothing in Kalios Kaa ever was.

As was tradition I was fourteen years old, and on a rare visit home, when my parents had presented that ring to me. At first I didn’t think much of it until I noticed that it was glowing.

“This is a very special ring,” my father had said to me as he slipped it onto the center finger on my left hand. “This ring is not only a symbol of Iekeinorarth but also of your destiny. This is a band of the War Gods, the Gods who have favored my family for generations but who have selected you for something great. These bands are not just gifted to anyone, the Death Gods must approve of who the War Gods choose, and even the Death Gods recognize that you hold fate in your hands.”

That ring hadn’t come off since. Forty-nine years later, I found myself in my father’s place for the tenth time. My husband of forty-five years stood beside me, behind us the royal family of Souroal were seated on the dias, and stretched before us was a hall filled with esteemed Supreme High Commanders and their personal staffs from across Kalios Kaa. Our nine older children sat off to the side with my parents, matching rings adorning each of them except my mother who wore the Souroalian’s version of the bands: a necklace. My heart throbbed with the realization that this truly would be the last time we were going to have a ring ceremony. The Gods had blessed my family with a plethora of gifts, all of which had eventually begun to spread us throughout the Dragon World.

One final ceremony, one last gift to the world that I call home. The final personification.

A prophecy had been received, a short, cryptic thing that stated the thirteen Draconic Philosophies of War would one day be personified.

The first to personify will be a Queen of War, Her inferno of blue shall know no weakness That first personification had proven to be the Queen of the Dragon Empire herself: Akistra Silvertalon. But hints of who would personify the twelve other Philosophies of War were nonexistent… until fifty-four years ago. When I had proven to be Ataraxia. After that, over the course of my marriage, my husband and our ten children steadily proved themselves as 41

the other eleven philosophies. Each had received a band from the War Gods, in a ceremony unique to them, and had forged their own reputations separate from myself and their father.

Now, it was time for the youngest to receive her ring. A slight tug on my right arm signaled that it was time for myself and my husband to take a seat with our family. Our youngest boy, Heinopher, rose, pulling his uniform straight as he walked to stand before the alias. He stood calmly, taking his sister’s request to heart. She’d personally asked him to be the one to present her War Ring to her and he had promised with a sincerity that was unique to him. Heinopher was the sibling she was closest to in both age and relationship. She’d witnessed his own ring ceremony and remembered every finite detail of it.

The doors opened and our youngest, Jeffica, stepped into the hall. Every inch of her, from her stride to how her eyes glowed with a determination that could burn enemies. All of it reflected generations worth of excellence and prestige of a Draconic House. As the ring was placed on her finger, the metal glowed white as tendrils of magic wrapped itself upward from her finger. It shifted from white to black to green and through an array of nameless colors until it had finally settled. The metal glimmered one final time, a deep maroon, before returning to its usual silver.

Jeffica took a breath, no doubt feeling the effects of the ring burning itself into her skin. A now permanent display of her profession and heritage.

When her eyes opened they briefly flashed to that deep maroon but soon enough her beautiful blue-gray eyes returned. Her eyes would change to that red soon enough, just as all of her siblings’ eye colors changed.

It runs in the family after all.

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Love is a Refuge

By Adair Shanks She is my angel.

Her love still whispers my name, Like a butterfly, A sweet murmur in my ear, My refuge in a nightmare.

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Motion

By Stephanie Dee

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Fleeting Friends

By Matthew Wilson Stars way up in the sky They make us dream high The planets out in space Give us something to chase

We see them shine bright As long as they’re in sight Lost a friend in the big dipper Just moved away I figure

Like birds of a feather Gravity binds us together But in the dark it pulls us away It’s no reason to be afraid

Still it’s getting harder to see I wish we could set the light free

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Fatima Sunset

By Elizabeth D’Souza

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From Above

By Fiona Fedorochko I took a deep breath as I entered her room. Her plants were no longer green, the tape of her posters lost their adhesiveness, and her calendar remained unmarked after January 21st. I opened her closet revealing all her favorite dresses, including the one she was wearing when I proposed. I brought in several boxes, which soon became home to the clothes she once danced in. Her once mismatched wardrobe was now a dull space with empty hangers on the rack. Her clothes were neatly organized, except she had a beautiful green dress lying on the floor. I picked it up and found a folded-up note that read “To: Adrien.” I opened the letter and began to read.

“Sickness has taken my body, but not my soul. I am watching from above, and I am so proud of you. Live a life of adventures, fall in love again, and be the best person you can possibly be. I love you forever and always. Love, Lyla.”

And at that moment I knew I would be guided by an angel from above.

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Untitled

By Elizabeth Jacobs

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Heaven Haiku Kiera McClanahan

The bright light blinds me, yet I find a sense of ease, His hand reached to me.

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Missing Part

By Kendall Dunham Jesus will dry up the rivers of my eyes And bring peace to my pacing heart He will bring sun to my cloudy skies And make me whole as He is the missing part.

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Sky Lit Balcony

By Stephanie Dee

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A Sunrise in Maine

By Charlotte Benson

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6:15 a.m.

By Sorcha Lewis

6:15 a.m. - is a time I dread.

It’s almost like just eating bread.

6:15 a.m - a time people mourn and fear Everyone in the morning caught like deer.

6:15 a.m. - so hectic and chaotic.

Everyone in a rush - acting quixotic No one is happy, yet no one is sad.

6:15 a.m. - a time when you’re somewhat glad Glad you arose from your night fast.

6:15 a.m. - a time you wish would go away A time you need to survive the day.

Nothing worse than this dire time That tips and taps to the bright birds’ chime.

6:15 a.m. - a time no one wants to say Yet everyone needs to win the day.

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A Second Glance

By Emma Rice

Lady Giselle surveyed the ballroom from her vantage point behind a curtain on the upper hallway, putting off the moment she’d actually have to walk down the sweeping staircase. The high-ceilinged room was decorated beautifully, with rich red velvet curtains held back by golden ribbons. The massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling had been lit so that the crystals sparkled across the room and sent tiny lights dancing over the buffet tables, silver trays laden with sculpted food. Flowers beamed from every available surface. The floor had been polished to a shine and the shoes of the dancers slid almost silently across, brightly colored skirts swirling. The company, however, pulsed dully in their surroundings, smiling vaguely at each other with dazed—or simply bored—expressions, ignoring the dancing silver-robed people.

“How soporific does it look tonight?” A whispering voice asked.

Giselle didn’t need to look at her friend to know that her pointed nose would be scrunched and her eyes rolled back into her face. “I wouldn’t even need a pillow.”

She’d given her governess carte blanche to write the invitations for her birthday party, but she hadn’t given a thought to the consequences.

“The mind doctor isn’t here?” Marie asked, her normally shining face looking a little strained.

“Of course he is,” Gisele grouched, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her jewel-studded corset scratched at the soft underside of her arms.

“Miss Rightly insists that he is good for me to talk to. Though with his knowledge of such an esoteric subject, he is of little interest to me.”

“Judgment of character was never quite Miss Rightly’s forte,” Marie answered, stealing a bit of cheese from a passing server on his way from the kitchens. His blank expression never faltered. “You can only blame yourself for letting her manage the invitations.”

Giselle bit back an argument as she noticed two women start up the stairs. She buried herself behind a curtain as they swept by, arms 54

linked, murmuring to each other something about “not quite right with the girl.”

“Do you think they’re talking about me?” She asked thoughtfully once the voices had faded.

“Let them,” Marie said, licking pear juice from her fingertips.

“People will go to inordinate lengths to avoid admitting their errors in judgment.”

“I suppose,” Giselle hummed.

“But anyway, about Miss Rightly—” “Don’t start,” Giselle snapped. “I’ll talk to her the next time my parents return. They can fire her; I haven’t the authority yet.”

“I was going to say,” Marie said crossly, wrinkling her delicate eyebrows. “You should be proud of the way you have turned out, though, with such atrocious tutoring.”

“This is true,” Giselle reasoned. “I wish she’d listen to me as much as my parents do.”

“Or pretend to,” Marie pointed out.

Giselle glared at her. “They listen to me most of the time.” They simply struggled with comprehension. Suddenly cold, she tucked one end of the curtain over her shoulder for a bit of warmth.

“It’s because they believe you to be mad,” Marie stated definitively.

Giselle whirled on her angrily, but Marie stalled her with a finger.

“You’ve said it yourself.”

Giselle stared at her for a moment, then tucked herself back under the curtain defiantly. “You’re as bad as the rest of them.”

A passing servant slowed, looking at her the same way he might if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra dozen heads. She lifted a hand haughtily and the servant continued down the hall.

Giselle crept forward just enough to look at the ballroom again. A particularly cadaverous man was talking to her tutor, the mind doctor who Miss Rightly insisted she meet. She wondered if he was terrified out of his wits of the formidable woman or if it was merely the lighting that made him look so pale.

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“I wonder if anyone would notice if I simply did not attend this party,” she mused, mostly to herself.

Marie peered over her shoulder at the people beneath. “I don’t think the event entitled ‘Lady Giselle’s Sixteenth Birthday’ is particularly nebulous, dear friend.”

“I suppose it isn’t,” Giselle murmured, straightening her skirts.

“Wish me luck.”

“What was that, miss?” Another servant, one of Miss Rightly’s spies, was staring at her quite oddly. How much had he heard her say?

“It had nothing to do with you,” she said breezily, sailing by him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marie wink at her before disappearing.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, subtly spreading her skirts to either side of her. Everyone who had been milling about paused to look at her, except for the people in silver. She never understood why they didn’t feel the need to adhere to social customs like the others. Perhaps it was because they hadn’t been invited in the first place.

The musicians in the corner stopped the music as she looked over at them, pausing with anyone else who’d taken a moment to recognize her presence. With Miss Rightly’s eternal gaze scouring her for a single misstep, she descended the stairs slowly, coming to stop at the base. A young, sallow man held his arm out to her and she rested two fingers upon it.

That ritual complete, the rest of the room returned to milling about as usual. She tried her best not to sigh out loud, but the sentiment must have shone on her face anyway, as Miss Rightly’s expression tightened alarmingly.

“Is it true,” the young man murmured into her ear as he took her hand gently in his clammy one, “that you can converse with the dead?”

She gave him her best vague smile. “Can’t anyone?”

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Zombie Makeup Art and Photo by Mayah Tiwari

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Queen of Kings Makeup Art and Photo by Mayah Tiwari

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Icarus Inspired by the 1968 Observation of 1566 Icarus

By Sophia Tuminaro The Washington Post September 22nd, 1968 “On the morning of June 14, 1968 a group of hippies fled into the mountains of Colorado to wait for Doomsday…”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------*CLICK* psst…PSSSTT Good morning New York! I’m John McDonalhan and this is your ABC morning show. It's eighty degrees out there and it’s looking to be another beautiful day, perfect for getting some fresh air with the family! And speaking of family time outdoors, wasn’t Icarus beautiful last night, folks? Ya know, Jim, I took the kiddos outside to look at it through the telescope, it was just gorgeous.

It sure was, John. Scientists say that it is going to be around four million miles from the Earth’s atmosphere today, so folks, if you didn’t get a chance to see Icarus last night, you will have the opportunity to see it tonight with the naked eye. So grab the wife and kids and fire up the ol' BBQ grill because this is the event of the century!

………pssss *CLICK* For this morning only, CBS has an exclusive report on the communities of young adults camping out in the Rockies waiting on the supposed “end of the world.” Are these kids rightfully cautious? Or are they just part of the hippie movement that has plagued the minds of our youth? Robert Thomas has the latest, Robert?

Thank you, Gary! I’m here in the Rocky Mountains with a group of teens who claim that the government is keeping the truth about your welfare from you. They came up here four months ago and now live out of the flower-painted vans you see here. Their reasoning? That this is the safest place in the country from Icarus.

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What’s your name, young lady?

“Savannah.”

And why are you living out of a van, Savannah?

“Your government is lying-psssssssssttttt- Icarus is going to hit us! Any day now- the caves nearby are perfect security when it happens. You think we’re crazy now, Mister, but you won’t be laughing when you're dead!”

Oh…ha ha ha. How many of you are living here?

“There’s about 200 of us in total.”

So how are you able to survive out here in the wilderness for so long?

“We came up here with plenty of frozen food. Unfortunately, Jimmy’s toaster oven broke in the first week, so we’ve been laying the TV dinners on top of the van and letting the sun scorch them. We managed to find an old well down the road that we’ve been using for water.”

Well, you heard it here, folks! If you are ever in the mood for frozen food on a camping trip, the roof works great. Back to you, Gary!

“Wait, it's coming! We’re all going to die!”

Hey! Hey! Hands off the camera you stupid, flagburners! Hey! Stop!

PSSSSSSSSTTTT *CLICK* —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The New York Times September 23rd, 1968 “Hippies Flee to Colorado as Icarus Nears Earth; Hundreds Camping in Boulder Out of Fear Icarus Will Collide With Planet" —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------BEEP zzzzzzzZZZzzzz “Dr. Greene, we cannot keep Icarus off for long. We need to destroy it! It was four million miles from Earth yesterday at 10:00 pm. Today it is merely three million miles away. One million miles! It moved one million miles in less than a day! We can’t even calculate the coordinates of where 60

it’ll hit. The boys at NASA are proposing that we attach seven missiles to a rocket ship and fire at Icarus so it can break up before it hits the states.” zzzzZzZZZZzzzzzz BEEP zzzzzZZzzzzzzZZZZZz “That will not work. The asteroid pieces would already be in the Earth’s atmosphere and hurtle towards the ground at a faster speed. Breaking it up would just multiply the danger to the American citizens.”

ZZzzzzzzzZZZZZzZZ BEEP zzzzZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz “But Sir, what are we going to tell the President? He told us to solve the issue before the public goes into a state of panic.”

BEEP zzzZZZzzzzzzzz “Finch, you’re the Secretary of Defense. You figure out what we’re going to tell him. Hello? Hello Finch? Hello?” zzzzzzZZZZzzzzz —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Wall Street Journal September 24th, 1968 “Closest Asteroid in History Graces the Skies” —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------*CLICK* pssstt…psssssssttt Icarus is currently two million miles away from us, isn’t that amazing? Now although this is a bit alarming, the US Department of Defense has confirmed that it is completely safe and that the asteroid will miss the Earth. However, as we learned from our friends, the Russians, it doesn’t hurt to review how to duck and cover, so here’s our Emmy award-winning PSA proudly sponsored by Pepsi.

To the tune of “Let’s All Go to the Lobby” 61

“Let’s all duck and cover! Let’s all duck and cover! Let’s all duck and cover and kick the Russian’s…”PSSSSST *CLICK* —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Boston Globe September 25th, 1968 “Asteroid Icarus Hits Colorado, Hundreds Killed”

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Rainy Day in a Classroom

By Kendall Dunham The paper being moved and folded sounds like leaves crunching under my feet.

The computer keys mimic the sounds of raindrops as I type.

I hear the air conditioner blowing, acting as my wind.

I hear someone drop their pencil and it clinks like an acorn on the sidewalk.

When you close your eyes and listen you can even hear the creaking of the desks like the creaking of houses.

The nature of this room, the atmosphere inside it, is like a calm rainy day.

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Isolation

By Stephanie Dee

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A Blossoming Sign of Spring

By Eleanor Schmutz

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Empty Skies

By Lila Sampilo

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The World Fell Apart

By Meredith Tombs Before the world came to a stop, I barely walked at all I’d run around - fast as I could - never afraid to fall.

But then the world came to a halt - as worlds so often do This fast-paced world screeched to a slow - for them - for me - for you.

We took some time away - apart - six feet, to be exact And though that didn’t seem to help, it changed the way we’d act.

We covered up and took it slow - uncertain - stumbling - scared And then “six feet” spread farther out - and both sides said they cared.

The Right and Left dug in their heels and, shouting, shook each fist So “six feet” turned a million miles, for love could not persist.

While all the world yelled louder on, and TVs droned on, too, I settled back, turned off the noise, and tried to see what’s true.

I’d never tried to see the world that kind of way before It was hard - confusing - weird - and worth it all the more.

I now know more of purpose, and heartfelt philosophy I know the Bigger Picture has a Great Plan laid for me.

Make better friends, and listen more, and love what life’s about And try your best - then try again - live Truth and Wisdom out.

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I didn’t learn these lessons from just sitting super still I moved a little slower, and I heard His Word and Will.

I learned these lessons walking through my streets - just on a whim I’d never simply walked before - thought it’d bore me to the brim But once I started walking, it was easier to think One, two, three - six feet - and then - I found my stride in sync I synced my steps with wind, and sky, and air, and rain, and sun I saw life so much clearer than when all I’d do was run.

The world tells you to move so fast - forward - not slowing down But living life’s no good that way - we’ll only ever drown.

It took the whole world skidding out about two years ago For me to grow and learn much more when I was moving slow.

It kind of makes me think about the way life used to be Before you had to stream your life and listen to TV… There’s so much more to life than we’ve been living all these years Slow down - step back - and don’t be ruled by others - or your fears.

Good old Ralph - he said it best -I’ll tell you here again The eyes and hearts of children are more honest than of men They feel so deep and fall so hard and tell it like it is Yet they don’t falter or give up as ‘round and ‘round they whizz.

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The way that kids can see the world is really something wild And yet we try to change them fast, and turn their hearts more mild.

As you grow up, please hold onto what your heart knows is best And love like you’re a child - and never let Truth rest Please see the world with wonder, and seek within your heart The best way to love others so we aren’t so far apart.

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My Future Awaits with 2022

By Justin Byrd

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Acknowledgements Thank you to our submitters, whose beautiful work serves as a reminder of the creativity and fresh perspective that high schoolers offer to the world.

Thank you to our editors, whose enthusiasm, flexibility, and diligence helped to perfect this issue.

Thank you to McCabe’s Printing Group for printing this gorgeous issue.

Thank you to the Bishop Ireton administration. Your continued support of Cambridge Road is vital to fostering creativity within our school community.

Finally, thank you to Dr. Vaccaro, who was a steady guiding light throughout the development of this issue. We truly appreciate and value the wisdom and insight you have given us. Cambridge Road could never have asked for a better faculty advisor!

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Editorial Staff Editor-in-Chief: Emma Rice Faculty Advisor: Dr. Vaccaro

Content Editors: Art and Photography Katie Kessmeier ‘22 Sarah Fleming ‘22 Jack Nagtzaam ‘24

Content Editors: Poetry and Prose Sarah Fleming ‘22 Rachel O’Connor ‘22 Kathleen Delaney ‘22 Nelsa Tiemtoré ‘22 Gabby Nguyen ‘22 Isabella Smith ‘22 Maeve Chawk ‘22 Lily Ripley ‘23 Danica Fielding ‘23 Aidan McNerney ‘23 Elizabeth Cheney ‘23 Vivian Spendley ‘23 Patrick Carpenter ‘24 Bridget Barker ‘24

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