DAMNED Magazine: The Lost Issue

L O ST

Ta b le o f CO NTE NT S

1 Visual Stimuli 2 The Interview 3 Finale

Photographer: Brian Edwards

A Note From the Editor

The nights are getting longer and the drugs aren’t enough. I wanted more and I got it.

I don’t know where to even go anymore. Hong Kong was supposed to be my escape but it only worsened as I tried to figure myself out. My inspiration and drive were drained in a matter of 3 weeks and the first time in my life I lost all sense of self. I didn’t know what i was becoming.

The feeling is truly scary. Partying hard and drinking harder, so ya know what fuck school, I’m in Hong Kong! Do a little to maintain a B average, but that’s it, (sorry magazine). Let the games begin! My weekend started on Wednesday, and I drank at any and every time in between (sorry mom).

“Brian wake up we’re almost home!” A phrase all too familiar and memory too vivid.

Body dead, but my mind was working overtime to gain consciousness. “I’m up, get the fuck off me.” Lost a few friends, but eh, I digress.

The rage grew and my personal upkeep was hardly a thing. 2 haircuts. so I relied on my trusted red hat, well until I blacked out on a bus and left it there (sorry Luca). This isn’t me–

By the fifth week I only had Julian; after we all went to one bar that was it so I got left a lot. No Internet and my phone was always killing itself. Im getting more scared at this point, but I always found my way home. After a while I completely distaned myself from everyone. By week 7 I was spending entirely too much time drinking my room and with the suffocating feeling of Hong Kong I couldn’t take it any more. Thank god It’s almost over!

Week 10 and it’s the day before we leave and at that point I hated people in general.

My last desperate attempt to get some sort of clarity of all this was to go to this cemetery that I always saw on my way to school. Cemeteries have always had a healing vibe to me but this particular one I spent about 2 hours exploring and within those two hours I discovered more about myself than I ever imagined. But for the first time in a long time, I was free.

B

Welcome to issue 2

Logo Design: Julian Judge

ReaperS By: Ashley Walsh

Z

ahiba ran through the dark alleyway. The thick summer heat clung to her skin, weighing her down. Her world was spinning. Dripping with sweat and out of breath, the shadows of her pursuers cast menacingly along the building beside her. Zahiba looked up and down the vacant street lined with chain link fences. Before recruitment she’d only been in the city for a few weeks and ever since then she’d only ever seen the inside of the flat.

Flustered, Zahiba bolted down the street into the next row of warehouses but found herself at a dead end. She hit the wall and screamed in frustration. Her fingers felt unbearably hot curled against her hand, her knuckles whitened. She pounded on the brick wall causing slight tremors.

She turned to meet her pursuers.

They were dressed in all black but each of them had a different colored tie and a skeletal mask obscuring the lower

Photographer: Kristopher Dobbins

halves of their faces.

The mask of a Reaper was a leash.

Only fully integrated members wore them. The Obedient. They moved on Zahiba holding various blunt weapons: Red Tie had a bat, Blue Tie had some chains, and Yellow Tie had a cattle prod.

Zahiba let out a primal scream before rushing them. Red Tie swung at her but Zahiba dropped beneath the swing and punched him in the gut, her hand still on fire, sending him back a few paces. She continued the assault and hit him over and over before driving her fist into his nose sending him flying into a pile of garbage. She looked at the blood on her hand and smiled.

That was the Reaper.

Zahiba tried to shake it off and stay in control but that moment of weakness left her vulnerable. Blue Tie came up behind her, swinging his chains like vicious spinning blades, and hit her in the side, arms, and back.

She fell but quickly rolled over just missing being hit by the chains again. In retaliation, Zahiba kicked Blue Tie in the face causing him to stumble back and allowing her to scramble to her feet.

Unfortunately, when she regained her balance Yellow Tie stuck the cattle prod into her neck and everything went black.

The car ride back to the flat was short. When Zahiba came to her hands were bound behind her and she was unable to see. The doors opened and she was jerked out of the car and pulled up a few flights of stairs before being tossed onto uneven hardwood floors.

A few moments later Zahiba flinched as someone helped her upright, but the touch was familiar, gentle...

“You weren’t gone very long this time…” Natalia said, her voice just above a whisper as she cut the zip tie binding Zahiba.

“They must have contingency plans.”

As Zahiba scoffed, pulling the bag off, there were bright lights pinned on her making it hard to see for a few seconds. Her eyes adjusted and she saw Natalia and Yari standing on either side of a chair, their Reaper masks hung around their necks.

Natalia and Yari had made it to the graduation ceremony.

Natalia smiled at Zahiba, but it was forced, and Yari nodded to her; a standard stoic expression faltering slightly. Zahiba knew she was disappointed.

The Reapers that had brought her in stood on either side of the gray metal door waiting silently. They stared forward with their hands behind their backs and dark, thoughtless eyes. Like sharks.

Without warning the door flew open and the girls jumped.

“Hello darlings,” Sebastian said in a singsong voice, strolling into the room.

He never wore a mask. Sebastian walked over to Zahiba and knelt down in front of her smiling, “You’ve been a bad girl.”

Zahiba lunged at Sebastian but the strike never landed. It was like he knew

what she was going to do before she did it. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her. Zahiba cried out.

Natalia jerked towards them but Yari held out her hand, stopping her. Natalia watched, panicked, waiting for Zahiba’s arm to snap.

Sebastian leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Use that rage, Zahiba. Become it. Let it consume you. You’re so close to perfection.” He released her and stood, straightening his dark blazer.

Zahiba rubbed her shoulder and glared up at him, his shadow cast over her. She tried harder than ever to calm down but the anger just boiled inside her, waiting to erupt and devastate everything around her.

“Lucky for you I’m in a good mood,” he said sitting down in the chair between his new Reapers. “Your friends have given into their power. Look how strong they stand, how in control. Girls, masks.”

Yari placed her mask over her face without hesitation. It fit perfectly, like it was made just for her. She stood taller once she latched it, her back

straight and her chin high. A calm had settled over her.

It was blood in and blood out.

Natalia placed the mask around her face and snapped it into place. She altered before Zahiba’s eyes. Natalia slowly rotated her neck and unbuttoned her suit top with a sultry look in her eyes.

She was always beautiful but now she was dangerous too.

“You could have this power too,” Sebastian said, standing.

“This isn’t power,” Zahiba snarled, standing to meet him, “They’re puppets!”

“We’re not.” Natalia interjected.

Zahiba took a step back as she took a step towards her, still wielding the knife she used to free Zahiba in her hand. Sebastian couldn’t hold back his mischievous grin and sat back down to watch.

“Nat…This isn’t you…” Zahiba said eyeing the knife.

“I don’t think you ever knew me.”

Natalia lunged at Zahiba. She ducked and diverted Natalia’s arm away. Natalia jerked back and slashed, working the knife with such fluidity

that Zahiba lost sight of it sometimes.

They danced across the floor, Zahiba dodging and Natalia striking just like they had done in training. Suddenly Natalia ducked down as Zahiba swung and kicked out her legs from under her. By the time Zahiba hit the ground, Natalia had the knife pressed to her throat.

“We’re not puppets like the Obedient,” Natalia said. Her voice was still soft as though the mask didn’t obstruct her speaking. “We’re different. You, Yari, and I. Yet you fight it.”

“I always fight,” Zahiba said throwing Natalia off of her. Yari stepped in then, her hand-to-hand combat skills were almost as impressive as Zahiba’s. She was quick and calculated.

“That’s all you ever understood,” Yari scoffed, “I never thought you had what it takes. You’re just a rabid dog.”

Zahiba ducked left and jabbed right but Yari was matching her hit for hit, then she stopped playing and hit Zahiba hard in the stomach.

She whispered in Zahiba’s ear, “The masks don’t give you power, they channel what you already have.”

“You make this team, Zahiba.

Without you they’re nothing.”

Zahiba stared at the mask for a moment.

She ran away because she feared restraint but she came, in the first place, to gain control. She glanced at Natalia and Yari, they were still her friends, the lost confused girls she started this game with, but they had changed, evolved.

She had nothing to go back to and nothing to lose except her soul.

“Are you with us?” Natalia asked.

Zahiba grabbed the mask, feeling the texture, accepting the rage, and believing that she wanted to be with her friends again, sensitive to it all. Slowly she placed the mask over her face and it fit perfectly like it was made for her.

It was.

Illustrations: Julian Judge Photographer: Brian Edwards Pendant: Lars Lee

Photographer: Morgan Maher Fibers: Christian Roy

A

n Accidental Slip

With Rebecca Lancaster

When

he approached me with another miraculous new drug, I hesitated. Or at least I pretended to. He rasped on the phone, “It’s a trip, man. Pure, non-habit forming sobriety, no strings attached. We’re beginning distributions soon-”

“Hold on, Will.” I interrupted. “’Sobriety’? You need a pill for that now?”

“Yeah, but not just that, It’s an uplifted sobriety, it refreshes. I swear It’s perfect for you man, it’s heaven for ex junkies.”

“Well, I’m off everything now. Except plants.” I replied.

Camille stirred beside me.

“You dropped acid yesterday. That’s not a plant…” she murmured.

“I definitely read online that it has plant origins.” I whispered, returning to the phone.

“What’s the catch?”

“Well, it’s free, you don’t have cravings for other shit, you get your life together, mow your lawn, be a stand up guy….”

“But?” He paused. “Onceaweekyougointopsychosis.”

“Psy-fucking-...What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Psychosis? What, are you trying to sell me bath salts?”

“Look, we’re working out the kinks. Nothing bad has actually happened, you just go to sleep on Thursday and… forget the night. Like a deep, dreamless sleep.

It’s harmless.”

“You think I’m an idiot.”

“I will if you don’t try this shit! It’s a great opportunity!

And we need an experience report.”

“Like a captain’s log?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Why the fuck not

MONDAY: Took my first pill this morning. Definite sense of clear head and… willpower. We’ll see how this one goes.

TUESDAY: I’m not really one to be easily influenced, but I do think something could be taking effect. I washed the dishes today.

THURSDAY: Things are changing. I quit my job as a barista and took my Dad’s offer to work. More pay, less pride. Haven’t had a hit since Sunday.

SATURDAY: Broke up with Camille, our relationship wasn’t healthy, we both knew it. Feels like there’s a weight off my shoulders.

Everything’s going amazingly. I enjoy the effect meds provide.

Oddly thinking about landscaping.

SUNDAY: Woke up this morning to someone licking my face. Turned out to be a dog. Not sure where he came from? Maybe stole him in my sleep? Going to name him “Yuppie”.

TUESDAY: Who knew it only takes a week to get promoted. Should’ve taken a corporate job years ago. Neighbors want my landscaper.

FRIDAY: I’m learning Spanish. Cleaned my house from any paraphernalia. Sobriety has come easy. Life couldn’t be better.

Yuppie learned how to bag his own poop.

Sunday:

A little shaky. I woke this morning to find my wallpaper substituted with thousands of glued-on dollars. Going to call Will.

Wednesday:

Watched news. Local bank robbery. I have my suspicions. But how can I stop now? I've never been clean for so long.

Saturday:

Spoke to Will. We’re developing a new strain without the psychosis. I’m in good spirits.

Tuesday:

I wish I had found this stuff sooner. I’ve never felt so put together in my life. Who knew I’d make such a happy square?

Friday:

I can tell that my parents are proud of me. My Dad won’t say it, but I can tell all the same. Tomorrow I volunteered to host a company sponsored brunch. Yes, you read right, BRUNCH!

Saturday: FUCK.

Fucking shit, fuck– fuck! There is a body in my bathtub.

Monday:

I don’t know if its worth it anymore. A clear head with a side of murderous tendencies??? I’m so lost.

Wednesday:

I can’t stop just yet. This is just a blip. Everything was going so well. It will go so well.

Saturday: …

Illustration: Lauren La Bella

The walls surrounding me were unfamiliar. Light shone bright in my eyes, disorienting me. As I regained my senses, I noticed my furniture had been replaced by concrete.

“Oh shit. I’m in jail.”

I promptly received my phone-call after twenty minutes of screaming. I punched in the numbers.

“Yo.” “Yo, Will. I’m fucked--” I started.

“Grant? Okay, I know why you’re angry, calm down, man.”

“Will, I’m in fucking jail!”

“What-- what did you do bro?”

“It’s your damn pills” I whispered. “They made me turn myself in. I know it. I… I… found a dead body in my tub last Sunday and I must have turned myself in in my sleep. It’s the fucking psychosis, dude.”

Silence.

“Hello? Help me out here?”

“Um, Dude, we’ll get this sorted and all, and I’m so sorry, but…”

“But what?” I asked quietly.

“…You were only taking placebos.”

For Her (TOP): Faith Mallory Rings: Lars Lee

Who is

Tal aya Jessie Conducted by: Kortney Clonts

Talaya Jessie is a little girl with big girl dreams. She is bold and risktaking, but also sensitive and sometimes a tad bit insecure if we’re being honest here. But most of all, I am someone who wants to be a catalyst for a positive change.

Describe your muse.

My muse began with the sophisticated and stylish professional woman. When generally thinking of women with status in the work environment, you don’t really tend to consider them stylish. I feel as though a woman should not have to water her style down to be looked at in the same manner as a man. A woman should still be able to feel feminine while in power.

What or who inspired you to become a fashion designer?

My mom and grandmother actually. My grandmother used to paint figurines when I was younger; I wanted to help, but she would sell them so I would just sit off to the side and draw. I started off drawing the big “U” faces with a side bang that covered one eye like Aaliyah’s.

As I got older I moved on to clothing, which showed every curve of a woman; that came about after watching my mom get dressed for work. She worked in Corporate America, but she was always so fly when she went to work. In all honesty I wanted to be her because at a young age there was no other like her. To me she was a one of a kind, so I drew clothes that I could see my mother in, casual and professional. Then eventually I asked for a sewing machine for Christmas, but I never used it. My grandmother used to shake too much when she tried to teach me, and I was really young with no patience. *chuckles*

What art movement(s) do you most identify with? (i.e romanticism, classicism)

While in college I was introduced to so many. I realized that every movement I began to love was actually kind of similar. Futurism and Cubism are by far my favorite. These movements happened in close range of each other, so you see the similarity with line movement. Some are fluid and looser, and then you have those lines that are more analytical and precise. It was more structural, and that is why I began to gravitate more so toward these movements rather than others.

How do you incorporate that with your personal style?

Usually I dress for comfort, but when I do look decent, I think of fit. For me, structure and fit is the most important thing when it comes to fashion. With my personal style, I try to incorporate both fluidity and precise structure. Now, I just go for whatever and if it is cute then that is what’s up. If not, at least I’m comfortable.

What would you say your designs stand for and explain what you want your designs to say to your critics?

I design with an impactful and present presence. My only hope is for each design to touch someone deeply. With just one look, I hope for someone to be healed from whatever it is they may have experienced or they are experiencing.

I can’t say my designs say this or that. Every garment will not say the same thing to every consumer because we all go through different trials. Whatever one consumer receives from one garment, they were supposed to receive just that.

Photographer: Marty Kinjo Edited by: DAMNED team Original Designs: Talaya Jesse

Who is your favorite designer and If you guys were to collab in what direction would you go?

My favorite designers, hands down, are Coco Chanel and Karl Lagerfeld. I fell in love with Chanel around the same time I fell in love with fashion itself. What inspired me the most was her design technique. Her creations came about through her lifestyle and how she felt modern women in the 20th century should dress, not by what society says. I loved the way Lagerfeld incorporated a bit of an edge and wit to Chanel. They describe women so well in my opinion: classy, edgy, and witty.

If I were to collab with the brand, I would continue in the direction I am in now but add more edge. I am definitely influenced by vintage Chanel and LagerfeldChanel, and the little details they incorporate in every design for me is jaw dropping. I can definitely see myself collaborating with them on a collection full of detail. I think that’s what makes something so simple look so spectacular.

Explain how you stay motivated

In all honesty, I fight every single day to stay motivated. To go from being around people who knows you the best to being around people who are going after the same thing you want and will get it by any means is a struggle. I have days I want to quit and days I think I’m not good enough. Then I remember the people who have my best interest at heart and those who helped instill in me one simple thing called faith. That is my biggest motivation, my faith. The bigger you dream, the more trials you will have. As long as you have a small amount of faith, you will be just fine. I try to encourage myself every day, and I pray every day. When you speak and think positivity, you will attract those things. Then I also remember I am too deep into it to turn around now so I can’t quit.

What is your favorite part about being a fashion designer?

My favorite part about being a fashion designer is the process for one single garment. You start with your concept, move into quick sketching, and began the pattern making process. The best part of it all is how a few yards of that rectangular fabric you have chosen transforms into that single garment. While making it, you will get frustrated; the end result is breathtaking.

What are your future plans?

Upon graduation, I plan on getting my masters in textile art overseas. Hopefully I can be the apprentice to Karl Lagerfeld, or have my own design house. I am trying this new thing called “not over-thinking” so as of now, I am going with the flow. What is for me is for me.

What honest piece of advice would you give someone trying to be apart of this cutthroat industry?

For someone who wants to thrive in this industry, I would say to them KEEP YOUR EYES OFF OF OTHER PEOPLE and WHAT IS FOR YOU IS FOR YOU! Do not chase money, and stay in the will that was perfectly designed for your life.

Remain true to yourself, have faith, and walk in love. You are the healthiest and most successful you when you walk in love.

Thank You for your time...

Photographer: Brian Edwards Accessories: Future Clothing Store Photo Edit: Julian Judge

Coil: Issac Penn For Her: Civvies on Broughton

Photographers: Brian Edwards, Ad Campaign, Happy Valley Cemetery, Finale Kristopher Dobbins, Reapers Morgan Maher, An Accidental Slip Marty Kinjo, The Interview Models Featured: Erin Kelly, Reapers, Finale

Sam Anthony, Ad Campaign

Devon Storm, Reapers

Angus Gore, An Accidental Slip

Michelle Hernandez, Reapers

Kristin Vannieuwenhoven, The Interview

Lauren Hudson, Ad Campaign

Roger Coleman, The Interview

Ashley Johnson, Ad Campaign

Lydia Holman, Finale

Christerfer Smith, Ad Campaign

Mayke Balbino, Finale

Writing Submissions: Ashley Walsh, Reapers Rebecca Lancaster, An Accidental Slip

Special Thanks to Make Up Artists: Christina Garcia, Reapers, Ad Campaign Angelica Santiago, Reapers, Ad Campaign Natalia Scott, The Interview Brittany Taliaferro, Finale Clothing: Faith Mallory, Ad Campaign Accessories: Lars Lee, Ad Campaign The Future on Forsyth, Finale Fibers: Issac Penn, Finale Illustration: Lauren La Bella, An Accidental Slip Tucker Mara, “Faithful souls are bound to get lost” Set: John Carter, Ad Campaign Sahiba Johar, An Accidental Slip

All content and ideas are original content ©

Contributers DAMNED Team: Brian Edwards, Editor-in-Chief Brianedwards2012@gmail.com

Julian Judge, Lead Graphic Artist juliantjudge@gmail.com

Anna Ko, Art Direction Annaxlives@gmail.com

Andrea Villanueva, Creative Direction apvolabarrieta@gmail.com

Samantha Franco, Assist. Creative Director samanthaleah.fv@gmail.com

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