The subway finally comes back around. I walk on the platform, the lights blinding and noises piercing, the snare-like sound reverberating in the air,coveringallthosearound.Iwastoo late last time it stopped here; I recall turningonadime,seeingthestreaksof neon vanish as the subway sped away, the sinking feeling after I missed it. Havingtowaitanotherfewminutes.
I notice an old lady, walking her dog, turning her nose up at the scattered litter and splotches on the platform. A man in baggy jeans, sauntering down thestairs,humminghistune,sosomber and sullen, a please don’t bother me aloofness.
Itsdoorsopen.Apoolofpeople,young andold,allsizesandshapesandcolors spill out, here, there, everywhere. Like mosquitosonskin,theyflockoutofthe vehicleandontotheirnextdestination, carried by their racing minds and desperatehearts.I’llwaitforaclearing. Finally one opens up. Let me squeeze my way in. I get pushed. I drop something. I pick it back up and get stepped on. And then, prancing, nearly losing balance, I stand grasping the silverpoleonthesubway.
Pocketsareupturnednow.Igrowmore and more tense, looking for the little pieceofcrap.Iopenthebag.ShouldIget off the subway? Yes. I am newly confident, determined in my decision to recuperateandgathermyessentials.
Thedoorsclose.Oh,I’mnotready.
Without my keys, I am grasping the beaming pole, mulling over just where they could be. I gave them to her yesterday after I got the takeout- I got them back, didn’t I? Yes, as I had them when I left 3A this morning. I had checked:glasses,passes,keys.
Nowthefamiliarscratchandsecurityof the glasses covers me, aiding my vision, yetIonlycanfindtheMetroCard,notthe pieceofcrap,thekey.
The franticness dies down. Now I am merelyhopeless.Icannotfindthem… Isinkintoafreedseat,therigidityagainst my falling body. Checking my watch. 10:47pm.WherewillIsleep?
Myvisionisobscuredbyatunnel,dim and dark. The cavernous, haunting melancholiaofthisplace,flashingbyyet neverchanging.Aratscurryingby,abig one. I catch its tail as it leaps for some morsel,oramIjustseeingthings?
The graffiti painted on the wall- black lettering I can’t make out with a white outline.Therereallyisnoplacelikethis. AsIfindremotepeace,Iaminterrupted bytheloudspeaker: Nextstop,11thStreet.
That’sme.
Glancing at the watch, I notice three minutes have passed. More time gone without my key and an even smaller chanceI’llfindit.
“I am almost numb now from the negotiations I have had with myself.”
PerhapsIjustdroppedit,maybewhen Iturnedtoenterthesubway.Ormaybe in those subsequent moments, when I dropped something, as I stepped closer tothedoor.Andthenmyhandgoteaten by a shoe, and I grabbed the key, didn't I?
Maybenot.
Imustturnback.
It is unlikely the key still lies where I abandonedit,yetIcannotgiveuphope. If I can’t find it, I decide, I will seek refuge in Lucy’s. I will get off at my usualstop.Iwilltakethesubwaybackto thelaststation.TheB.No,theC.Yes,the C.
I am almost numb now from the negotiationsIhavehadwithmyself.
Everything is going as planned. I step onto the platform. Am I a fool for thinkingIwouldfindthisobject?
But how can I be sure? I pick it up. It looksthesame.Feelsthesameastheold one.I’mlucky.IdidnotthinkIwouldbe thislucky.
I start to regain my excitement, allowing myself to entertain the possibility of returning to the apartment, glasses, passes, keys all together like one happy family, the studio sparse and empty, the bed warm enough, a respite after this unexpected disaster.Themoansfromtheneighbors, thenightlyritual,thebarelyvisibletime on the TV, the digits a reminder of how little I would sleep- but an assurance thatIwouldindeedgetsome.
I decide to take a cab back- faster, most likely, and also more comforting. Notaswarmofpeople,noonecrowding me, stepping on my hand, making me dropmykey.ThesamekeywhichInow hold.
Iwon’tloseyouagain.
Ithankthedriveranddisembarkfrom the cab. The streets are desolate and quiet. The shouts from the neighborhood echo and are mere murmurs in the air. A homeless man glaresatmeandIlookaway.
“Godbless,Godbless.”
Ishakemyheadandlookatmykey.
TheonlyplaceopenisLucy’s-eventhe pizza place is closed. It’s now past midnight.
Adoughyscentrecedesintothevent, from which the faint kicks of a baby seem to emanate. The subway rattles and rattles and a gush of hot air blows upintomydirectionandthewaftofthe pizzaplacedissipates.
The homeless man is standing on his feetnow.
Iamsorelievedtobegoinghome.
Isteptowardthedoortothebuilding and insert the key. Yet it won’t turn. It workedthismorning.
IthinkImaygroan.Thekeymustbe frozen,itjustneedsanothertry,letme take it out and make another attempt. Now I don’t care. I give in. Fine. You win, you, whoever you are, out to get me, to humiliate me, I grant you first place. Just let me take this back and leave me alone. I know it won’t get me intomyapartment.
I don’t want my neighbors to have to deal with this hindrance, this key stuck inthedoor.
Lucy’sisbusyasabeehive,thewaiters and waitresses roaming the floor, the hostess positioned before me, the bookshelf illuminated by the overhanginglight.
“Justone,please.”
“Followme.”
She turns and I let myself greedily noticehowprettysheis.
I’vetriedallday,allnighttofollowthe playbook, mine, my family’s, or whoever’sitis,whicheverpersonforced these moral statistics on me. I want to giveup,yetIknowIcan’t.AndIwon’t.
Thisisnottheend,thisisthebeginning.
“I’ve tried all day, all night to follow the playbook, mine, my family’s, or whoever’s it is, whichever person forced these moral statistics on me. ”
Coverart:MidnightMousebyKellieJones‘25
Eli Kern Eli Kern Eli Kern
NO NO NO
ESCAPE ESCAPE ESCAPE
For months, Jake and Liz had been planning for their Boston vacation to celebrate their two-year wedding anniversary. As they explored the city, theydiscoveredatinystoretuckedinto an alleyway of Boston's old streets. Abovethereddoorwasasign,“Virtual Reality Escape Room.” Jake and Liz agreed it sounded like fun and went inside. There, behind the counter, a man welcomed them with a big smile. He told them how the escape room worked. He said there were plenty of games to choose from, some silly and others more frightening. Jake and Liz decidedtotryascarygameastheyboth enjoyed the thrill. The man led them into a room where the VR sets hung fromtheceilingandhandedthemtheir headsetsandcontrollers.
Thegamebeganwithabigscreenthat read “Today is your last day on earth if youdon’tmakeitout.”Eeriemusicplayed in the background. At first Jake and Liz hadablastsolvingpuzzlesastheymade theirwaydowndarkhallways.Theywere both scared while playing but in an exciting, fun way. They laughed and shrieked together when jump scares happenedandtheyhigh-fivedwhenthey solvedaclue.However,astheygotdeeper into the game and unlocked more levels, the game became scarier as they progressedlevels.
JakeandLizmadeittothefinallevel. There, in shadowy corners, a ghost chasedthemandtherewasthesoundof footstepsbehindthem.
Theyneededtofindakeytounlockthe doortoleave.Whattheyfounditinadoll’s pocket.JakeandLizhigh-fivedeachother inthevirtualworld,theirheartspounding withreliefandexcitement.AsJakeputthe keyinthedoorandturnedthehandle,the doorcreakedopentorevealasignsaying, This is Just The Beginning, Jake and Liz. Blooddrippedfromtheirnames.
Jake and Liz were confused, how did the game know their names? They never told their names to the man behind the counter. Not thinking much of it, they stepped through the door expecting a screen to announce in big letters “You Won!” and for the man behind the counter to come in and congratulatethem.Instead,theywalked into a room with a bright light that slowly started to dim. Suddenly Jake’s wholebodyfrozeandhiseyeswidened.
He recognized the room’s wallpaper, thescratchesonthefloor,andtheblack charredwood.
“Jake!”
LizwastryingtogetJake’sattention.
Jake struggled to speak, his heart pounding in his chest. “Liz thi - this is mychild-hoo-dhous-house.”
Liz tried to understand what Jake was saying. She saw burn marks on the ground and black charcoal walls. It looked like a house after a fire. At first Liz just thought it was just another level in the game, one that was more realistic and darker than the others.
“Jake, look, the kid in that photo kinda looks like you,” she said.
“Let’s go, I’m done with this.”
There was a fallen picture frame with shattered glass and burnt crippled paper. Jake used his virtual hand to pick it up.
Hestumbledbackwardwithconfusion and fear. Jake was trapped in a nightmarethatnolongerfeltlikeagame. Astheystoodinsilence,Lizpointedtoa messageonthewall:“Toleavethegame, youmustfindthreekeystoescape.”
In a panic, Jake said, “Let’s go, I’m done with this.” He quickly reached up to remove his headset. “My headset is stuck,itwon’tcomeoff,"heyelled.
‘Liz tried to remove hers too but it wouldn’t budge. “It feels like it’s glued tomyhead,”shesaid.
Jakebegantoyellforthemanbehind the counter. “Hello? Help us! Our headsetswon’tcomeoff!”
LizcouldhearthefearinJake'svoice and tried her best to comfort him, remindinghimthatitwasallpartofthe game. Jake'smindscrambledforaplan and then he remembered the wire on the back of the VR headsets attached to theceiling.Withthesurgeofadrenaline rushingthroughhisbody,Jakegrabbed the wire and yanked it with his full force.Thewiredidnotevenbudgeand instead made a locking sound. Jake’s heart raced as he tugged harder and harder.
Liz'svoicetrembled,“OKJake,we just need to stay calm and after this level, we can get out of here. It's just a game. Let's just find the keys so we canleave.”
Suddenly a message appeared on the wall in front of them that read, You may not leave until the game is complete. Jake, who was shaking now, took a long breath to try and calm down. He realized he had to find the three keys to leave this game.
Jake and Liz walked forward, their footsteps echoing along the dark hallway of Jake’s burnt childhood house. Jake tried to remove the VR headset again, but it was still stuck. Panic started to set in when he and Liz realized they were stuck in the virtual world.
“This can’t be real, why is no one coming to help?” Jake’s mind raced, his voice was shaky when he said, “Liz this…Thishouseweareinrightnowis mychildhoodhomethatIlivedinuntilI was twelve years old… until I lost my whole family in a fire. I was the only survivor.”
Liz replied, “Jake, what are you talking about? Are you fucking with me right now? It’s not funny!”
It was a family photograph of a woman, a man, two boys, and one girl. Liz looked deeply at the picture and saw the young boy had identical eyesandhairtoJake.Herheartsank as she looked around, noticing the charred walls. Liz stood frozen, “Okay now I’m really creeped out. Whatthefuckishappening?!”
Liz tried again to remove the headset. “You said your parents and siblings moved to Paris once you left forcollege.Whydidn'tyoutellme?”
“I haven’t told anyone about what happened that night. Every time I try to talk about it, I just experience the horror all over again. So I decided to make up a story so I never had to remember that night again. I’m sorry Liz, I should have toldyou.”
Theyrealizediftheyhadanychance of leaving the game and going back to their vacation in Boston, they had to finishthegame.Lizaskedthegamefora clue:Gotoyourparents’bedroomtofind thegoldkey.
As they navigated through Jake’s burnt house, each step brought back memories of his painful childhood. They finally made their way to the burned-out bedroom and found the goldkeylyingintheashes.
The next clue was, Go to the place whereyoulasthuggedyourmother.Jake remembered this moment almost every day, a day he would give his whole life togobackto.Ithappenedinthecorner ofthelivingroom,betweenthefireplace andthepiano.Jakesawthespotandfelt ateardripintohisheadset.
The living room was almost unrecognizablebutJakesawasilverkey on the ground with a note for the next clue: “grilled cheese.” Jake knew exactly where the next key would be–on the dining room table where his dad served his famous grilled cheese sandwiches every day after school to Jake and his siblings.Hefoundacopperkeybeneatha meltedcandlestick,thememoryoffamily gatheringsnowturnedintoash.
Finally, Jake and Liz had the three keys. They followed the arrows on the wall and Jake tried each key in the lock with shaky hands. The door flung open to a room with a bright light similartobefore.
Asenseofreliefwashedoverthem. They had beaten the game and the nightmare was over. Jake told Liz he wasgoingstraighttothepolicestation to report the emotional torment the gamehadcausedhim.
Suddenly, the bright light began to dimandtheysawanewplace,anopen field with green grass and trees in the distance.Therewasblacksmokeonthe horizon, behind the trees. Wanting to getoutofthisviralrealityhell,Jakeand Lizstartedwalkingtowardsthesmoke.
They came to a highway with hundredsofparkedcarsbuttherewas not a person in sight. Liz couldn't immediately figure out why the road seemed so familiar. Then her eyes widened in terror as she and Jake saw the horrific car crash down the road, thesiteoftheblacksmoke.
Liz's stomach turned at the sight of thewreckageandtheimportanceofthe location. She struggled with her emotions. She had to tell Jake the truth aboutherpast.Beforeshemethim,Liz wasmarriedtoanotherman.Theywere happy, but it came to an end on May 24th when her husband was driving homefromworkanddiedinatragiccar accident. Jake was stunned and confusedbythenews.
He had been unaware of Liz's past marriage.Shedescribedwhatshecould remember of that horrible night and her overwhelming grief at losing the mansheloved.
“They came to a highway with hundreds of parked cars but there was not a person in sight.”
They stood there staring at the wreckage of the smoking car. Both Jake and Liz were shaken by the encounters with their tragic pasts in the virtual escape room. Their relationship was being tested and what had begun as an exciting game had revealed the secrets they kept from each other. Their eyes burned with tears and exhaustion from how long they had been in this game. It was unclear what was ahead of them on the virtual horizon or if they’d ever escape.
Digital Drawing by Hudson Murray ‘25
Thedaywaslongandhotasitalways was.Lutherstoodinthereactorroomof hisshipasitendlesslysailedfromPluto toitsfinaldestinationofKepler.Thetrip wasprojectedtotake5000yearsandthey wereonlyinyear3000bythispoint.The ship, along with numerous others like them, was sent off from Pluto and numerous other planets as humanity desperately tried to escape the solar system as the sun began to rapidly expandandengulfthesolarsystemaswe knewit.
Of the around 20 billion people on Earth and associated colonies around 500 million were sent on arc ships fromavarietyofplanetstobeusedto colonize the galaxy. An undetermined number of others were put into cryosleep and launched out of the solar system in things that could barely be called spaceships with the hope of eventualrecovery.
The ship Luther operated was designated USS Hope-3343 a ship built in the 23 century on Earth and used to shuttle refugees to Pluto before being one of the final Arc ships launched before the sun engulfed Pluto. Luther had seen the video of this event on his optic link one day while browsing the expansive vault of content he had access to during another long day in thereactorroom. Hisjobwasrather boring with his only true job being to fix certain systems, or manually input directions into robots that the ship's AI could not control on its own.
He had been working this job now for 300 years and was expected to stillbeworkingitoncetheship
landed on Kepler. The previous reactor technician had lost his mind during the journeyandhadtobeputintocryosleep with him being awoken from his deep slumberandbeingassignedthisjob.
Inhispreviouslife,Lutherhadbeena shuttle operator who had helped coordinate the evacuation of Titan to Plutoandwasgivenaspotontheshipfor hisefforts.Hehadbeenpromisedacryo sleeppodbutheunderstoodwhyhehad totakethisassignment.Thememoriesof thosedaysstillhauntedhim.
Hehadheardthecommlinksfalldead oftheevacteamsengulfedbythesunas theydesperatelytriedtogetoffthemoon. Thedesperatecallsforhelpoverdevices, as archaic as the radio begging for help. Heneverwasabletogetthosevoicesout of his mind and they knawed at him constantly. One day Luther arose from bedandsaunteredintothereactorroom. Hethoughtofhisdearfamilyathome,his wonderful daughter Alicia. She had the prettiestbraidsandthemostjoyfulsmile hehadeverseen.Foryearsshehadbeen thelightofhislife,thepointofexistence. After all, he was embarking on this for her,forherkids,andforthesubsequent generations that would follow. Luther believedhewasagoodperson,andifthis wasnoindication,hedidnotknowwhat could be. 2000 years, he thought. 2000 years.
The memories of those days still haunted him.
Thevoicesofthosemenandwomenhe hadlostkeptgnawingathimDespitehis best judgment he looked at the reports fromtheTitanevacuation.Ofthearound 100 million people on the moon at the timehewasabletosave20millionpeople with 80 million residents and about 50 thousand evacuation crew members being killed as the planet became engulfedinacauldronoffire.
The voice of his second-in-command who had died on Titan became clear in his head. Voices like this often appeared inhisprisonofmind,butthistimeitwas different. He spoke this time in a far clearervoicethatwasfarmorecoherent. Luther had long forgotten his name but never forgotten his voice. This time the voicewasangryandtoldhimhowawful hewasandthathegothimandtherestof howcrewkilled.Atthat,Luthersnapped grabbed a sharp piece of metal, and slit hiswrists.
Lutherawokeintheship'shospital with a hospital robot standing over himcheckinghisvitalsigns.
Theship'sAIimmediatelydetectedhis suicide attempt and sent robots to “preventthedestructionofassetscritical tothemission”.
Herememberedthatevenifhewasto try “they” would stop him and lock him intotheship'shospitalashewasnow.The AIgavehimtwosimplechoicestoeither continue his role or be sedated and put into cryosleep for the remainder of the journey.
He chose to stay in his role and the AI unhooked his restraints. He reflected on his trip so far and gradually the realization came that his life would not end but at least he could do his duty. At that, he returned to his station and mannedthereactoronceagain.
BlackandWhitePhotographyby TeddyKrimendahl'25
Cover Art by Hudson Murray ‘25
Our base camp was located 40 miles fromDurango,Colorado,inthemiddleof nowhere. We woke up on another dreadful 83° morning to Conrad, the guide,yellingatustogetup,feelingdizzy, hungry, sore, and tired with dirt in our nosesandmouths,andspidersandother insectscrawlinginoursleepingbags.We wouldspendoneandahalfdaysatbase camptorestockfood,cleanthecamp,and havetherapysessions.Fortheotherfive daysoftheweek,wewereonexpeditions, hiking every day with distances ranging from six to seventeen miles long. This is wildernesstherapy.
IwasinateamcalledAvatar(TeamA) with three guides and seventeen other adolescent boys struggling with anger issues, substance abuse, and family communication. Each is on a journey of healing and transformation, determined to break free from old destructive patterns and pave a path toward a brighterfuture.
Uponarrivingonthefirstday,theteam couldn't communicate with me. I was forced into solitude. Being watched and judged by all. A guide told me, "You are stuck here for 10-12 weeks." Rarely did anyoneleavein10;moststayedforthefull 12, and some for more. “Don't get your hopesup.”Despitethestatement,Iclungto hope.
Iwasthreeweeksintomystay,andwe had just wrapped up camp chores and readiedourselvesforournextexpedition into the unknown. Basic amenities we once took for granted in the outside world,likereadingorhavingaheadlamp, were now earned through a binder of rulesandtasksthathadtobecompleted. However, the most significant privilege wasthebackpackitself.Beforeearning
one, we were tasked with creating our own makeshift packs; you had to learn how to construct a pack out of the tarp you slept under and tie and hold it togetherusingtheParachutecord,which wasusedtoholdupourtarp.
Theseself-madepackswerecalledseat packs.Demonstratingmasteryofthisand other skills was mandatory before graduating to a backpack. These packs tookthirtyminutestoconstructandhad tobeabletohold60lbs,theweightofour existence for the next three months. Studentsearnedtheirbackpacksroughly fourweeksintotheirstay.Iearnedmine in four and a half.We put our packs on and made our way to the van, everyone pushing and crowding around the side mirrorstolookattheirreflections,fixing their hair and how dirty they looked. Everyone piled into the van; we'd typically travel about two and a half hours, with every expedition alternating destinations,someareasknownfortheir ease and others known for their challenges.
In the van, the radio was gold and a precious commodity. Twice a week, we heard music, when we left on our expeditionsandwhenwejourneyedback to base camp. Music served as a soundtrack to our conversations, while other times it provided a comforting backdroptomomentsofsilentreflection of sadness and regret. But good vibes were in the air, with the windows down with the music echoing through the valleysofColorado,weventuredoutinto theunknown.
Whenwearrivedatthetrailhead,it was at the bottom of a vast mountain, expectingwewerenothikingupitthe firstday.Weweretiredandsorefrom
the last expedition. We anticipated this one would be less harsh. Little did we knowweweresowrong.Weneverknew the exact length of the hike until we finished the hike. The map used was outdated and twenty years old. Trails vanishedintothinair,andwater sources and campsites that were promised were nowheretobefound.
We started the hike, making our way closer to the mountain; the sign was broken and knocked over when we arrivedatthetrailhead.Itlookedasifno one had stepped on the path in years; it was in horrible condition, with a deep, thicktrenchborderedbythornbushes
andpavedwiththickmudandrocks.That summer in Colorado was excruciatingly hot, and the bipolar weather switched from hail to heavy rain at any moment. The path provided zero protection from thesun,notrees,andnoshade.Likethe treacherous route going up was not enough,itstartedtohaillikeathousand needles, transforming the ground into a treacherous sludge. With each step the incline seemed steeper, and the risk of slippingandfallingbecamemorepresent. Minutesturnedintohours,withnoendin sight, just a relentless uphill battle. Physically and mentally drained, we continued.Ouronlysupportwasfoundin
the shared struggle, our shared desperationanddetermination. Withthesungoingdownandtherest of the hope and happiness dying down, we wondered if we would make it. My shoulders were bleeding from the ropes holdingthe60pounds,thefeelingofthe ropes coming undone and loosening up. Any longer and the pack would come undone.
Pressing on and being teased by multiple false openings, each a cruel twist of fate. It was almost dark, with 20 minutes left of light. Despite the struggles, calling it quits wasn’t an option.
Then, a cry pierced through the air, "The end!" Heads turned, and we shouted, some even laughed as we glimpsed the summit of the mountain. We saw the top and the end of our first day. Everyone's last bit of energy was exerted into reaching the top. Smiles of relief,pride,andaccomplishmentspread across our faces as we finally set down our bags. The dying embers of sunlight cast a spectral glow over a slanted patchy section of grass, looking out beforeanever-endingfield.Thiswasour campsiteforthenight.
We rushed to secure our sleeping spots. Everyone looked for two trees, 15 feet apart to tie their rope to and set up their tarp. Knowing it was too late to have a group meal, everyone knew P food was for dinner; it was personal food, which wasn't filling and had to be rationed throughout theweek.
After setting up our shelter spots we gatheredincampcenteraroundthefire, silentlyeatingtrailmix,coldtortillas,and cheese.Afirethatilluminatedthearea
provided warmth and was a beacon of comfort in the wilderness. After dinner we all ventured back to our separate shelters, and into our wet and cold sleepingbags,knowingwewouldhaveto dothisagaintomorrow.Thethreeguides convened the next morning while the students still slept, planning the day's journey. Awakening to their murmurs, I overheard another grueling hike for the day ahead. We never knew what time it was, but I knew it was really early. I couldn’tgobacktosleep,mymindfilled withthoughtsofanxiety.
Islowlygotmythoughtstogetherand startedgettingaheadstartonpackingmy stuff up. Which made it easier when we weretimedtopackour packs. Whenwe wereleavingcampifwedidn’treadyour packs in time we had to do a pack dri whichmeantunpackeverythinganddo upagain.Everymorningbroughtasens of anxiety as we ventured into th unknown wilderness, uncertain of ou destination, the distance of the hike, o thechallengesthatawaitedus.
Dayafterday,everythingwasagains me, waking up on a hard mat, in a uncomfortableandwetsleepingbagin field entirely of nothingness. The su piercedoverthehorizonofthemountai atsix-thirty,spreadingasenseofurgenc in the camp as we dismantled ou makeshift shelters and prepared for th dayahead.
Westartedourmorningwithplai oats and peanut butter, then packe up camp. The water source that wa said to be there on the map didn exist;therewasnowater.
where hundreds of cows bathed, drank from,andusedthebathroom.Thatisthe last thing you want to drink before a longdayoftreacheroushiking.Stepping onto the faint path with our Nalgenes full of nothing and our packs strapped tightly, we found the cow pond filling ourNalgeneswiththemurkywaterand addedfourdropsofbleachtopurifyand kill the bacteria. With the bleach's promise of making the water safe to drink, it didn't mask the pond's foul color, taste, or odor, and it especially didn’tgetridoftheunsettlingsensation of ingesting unknown particles with each swallow. Despite the bleach's promise, it didn't offer relief for the comingday.
Wehadtofindone.Beinginacow field, we knew a pond filled with filth andbacteriawasnearby,
Whenmostpeoplethinkofmakeupthey either think of gorgeous, dainty models withasoftamountofglitteryeyeshadow coating their eyelids. Girls' faces caked withfoundationthatisn'teventheirskin tone. Or famous celebrities with their ownmakeupbrandthatwouldprobably cause you to break out the second you add even a dab of their foundation on your face. But whenever I think of makeup,Ithinkofmyideaofit.
Peeling skin revealing muscles and chunks of bones. Blackish blue bruises that have blood oozing from them. A sharpchainsawdiggingrightthroughthe head.Thosearesomeofthelooksyoucan createfromthewonderfulworldofSFX, also known as Special Effects Makeup. There are thousands, millions even, of looksyoucancreatewithjustfakeblood andmoldablesilicone.
I had my first interaction with SFX makeupwhenlittle8-year-oldmewasup past their bedtime, scrolling through YouTube with a bored expression. I rememberthe feeling of confusion-–yet amazement-–whenmyeyeslandedonacertainvideo. Itwas a music video. The thumbnail was of a split-dyed girl peeling the skin off her face. The muscles under the skin glistened. I had no clue if I should look awayorkeepstaring.IfeltlikeIwasn’tin control of myself as my hand shakily clickedthevideo.
The music started playing. I remember being so fascinated with this singer–who I later learned was named Melanie Martinez. At about 3 minutes in, the part from the thumbnailcameup. FromthereIstartedsearching.Google search after Google search. “Fake peeling skin,” “fake blood,” “scary makeup.” That's when I came across thosethree words.SpecialEffectsMakeup. I hesitantly clicked the image section. I can’t even begin to describe the emotions I was feeling. Amazement? Horror?Amixofboth?I’mstillnotsure, butallIknowwasthatIwasdrawnin.I couldn’t stop scrolling through the photos. Next thing I knew I was on YouTube watching tutorials while listeningtoMadHatter–whichwasthe name of the song I found my new fascination by. The tutorials I had binged came into later use when Halloweenhit.Ihaddecided togoasmyfavoritecharacter,Crying Child, from the horror game Five Nights at Freddy’s. The character had hisfrontallobebittenoffbyarobot.I vividlyremember sitting in front of the mirror, my striped shirt covered in fake blood. I wasinamazementofwhatIhaddone withmymakeup... Icould’veeasilyscrolled pastandcarriedonwith mynight,yetIhadn’t.
Mymotherhadorderedsomemoldable silicone and fake blood off Amazon. I had moldedthesiliconesoitlookedlikemy foreheadhad beenrippedopen.ThefakebloodIhad gotten was the perfect texture. It was oozy, but not too oozy that it wouldn’t stick to my forehead. I had stolen my cousin's eyeshadow pallet and used a variety of reds and blacks to add a bruisedlooktotheoutercornersofthe silicone.
That night was the best. I never would’ve expected clicking on a singularvideo wouldnotonlyformafascinationwith thehorrorelementofmakeupbutalso my love of painting my face with foundationandjustwingingitwithjust aneyeshadowpalette.I could’veeasilyscrolledpastandcarried onwithmynight,yetIhadn’t And I’m so glad I did. I wouldn’t have embraced my inner creativity that I never knew I had so much of. I never would’ve tested my abilities and grew out of my comfort zone of trying new things. SFX makeup brought out the trueme,andthat’sallthanksto8-yearold me deciding to click a singular video.
