Chrysalis: 1980

Table of Contents Short Stories

Photography

Claire Jennings Initials ...................................... 7

Dale Serroka ............................I, 11, 12

Denise Duncan Fear Not the Hour ofDeath ........ : ........... 16

Ann Bourne Traps ......................................21 Mary Claire O'Connell Institutions ................................. .28

Kastner .......................................4 Eddie Bevis ....................... IO, 15, 27, 30, 35 Peyton Cramer ............................. 14, 39 Kayla Barudin ................................. 32

Poetry

Artwork

Pete Thornhill Expectations ................................. 2 The Gift ofLife .............................. 18

Marty Conover (Drawing) ....................5, 38

Dorio Gribbin MwAm� ................................... 3

Lee Tyler (Drawing) ............................. 17

Kathy Spradlin Seasons .....................................6

George Bowles (Drawing) ................ 19, 20, 37

Connie Nichols when i play peek ............................. I I Days Gone By ............................... 13 Cinderella World ............................ 26

Ellen Thompson (Drawing) .......................5 Karen Aliff(Drawing) ...................... 19, 20 Diane Dunaway (Drawing) ................... 19, 34 Toni Koger (Drawing)

......................20, 27

Kelly Elizabeth Miller (Ink Sketch) ...............22

W. J. "Butch" Jones, Jr. Day By Day ................................. 12

Dale Edmondson (Drawing) ......................24

Ralph Hale Hippy-ti-zation .............................. 13

Connie Nichols (Ink Sketch) ......................33

Darden Gillette The Lake ................................... 13 Love .......................................23

Laura Homan Don't Worry Mom ............................31 Goodbye ....................................39

Mary Jeanne Shaughnessy Blackbird ...................................33 Diane Dunaway Abstractions ................................35 The Girl You Met ............................38 Diane Winslow Genetics ....................................36

Mitzi Milius Castle's Fall ................................37

Reed Johnson (Painting) ........................25

Honorable Mention in Poetry

Expectations THERE IS A SMALL FIGURE IN THE HAZY WINDOW. I HAVE SEEN IT MANY TIMES BEFORE. I PASS HERE ON THE HOUR ON THE DAY. WHEN THE FIGURE SEES ME. SEEING IT, IT MOVES AWAY QUICKLY. I ALMOST SAW A SMILE THE OTHER DAY. OR WAS IT THE SMILE I WANTED TO SEE? MAYBE TODAY THE FIGURE WILL ALLOW ME TO OBSERVE IT'S ENTIRETY? BLONDE HAIR? BROWN EYES? I REALLY CAN'T TELL. IT MOVES AWAY ONCE MORE. THE TREES WERE GREEN, NOW RED. SOME ORANGE PLACED VERY CAREFULLY TOO. THE SIDEWALK WAS SMOOTH, NOW PUSHED UP BY ROOTS OF THE TREE. I WILL NOT RETURN TO THE WINDOW ON THIS HOUR ON THIS DAY. I HA VE FOUND A NEW OBJECT TO PASS. -Pete Thornhill

-Photo by Dale Serroka

-1-

-2-

Mon Amie (For Catherine Goode)

Elle est tres petite.

Elle a trois mois.

Avec !es cheveux bruns Et !es yeux bleus.

Elle ne parle pas encore: Elle crie.

Elle est 111011 amie Speciale.

Elle est adorable.

Elle est tres heureuse.

Qui est cet enfant?

Une petite personne Speciale.

C'est Catherine.'

-Dorio Gribbin

Three-month-old, So tiny.

With brown hair and blue eyes.

Can ·i even speak a word As yet, And so she cries.

She ·s my special friend, Adorable And ever joyous.

Who ·s this sprite, This special one?

Catherine, of course.'

-Photos by Kastner

-3-

-4-

Seasons Buds appear on shrubs and trees Flowers, too, attract the bees Warm winds lift small bright kites And tiny sailboats drift Across ponds with ease.

Hot lazy days with lots to do Clear cloudless skies of blue Swimming pools full of people Children having fun, but dreading End of summer, start of school.

-Watercolor by Marty Conover

Leaves of orange, red and gold Colors ever so brilliant and bold Autumn is beautiful A great time of year Until the air turns cool. then cold.

Snow blanketing the ground White fluff all around Children playing with snowballs, Skating on a frozen lake Snowmen and sleighs abound.

-Kathy Spradlin

-Watercolor by Ellen Thompson

-5 -

-6-

Hippy- ti- zation Hippy-ti-zation is a process The gradual acquiring of clothes Faded jeans, jackets, shirts And the developed philosophy Of being cool But maybe being cool Is only two steps From being a fool.

The Lake

-Ralph Hale

As I looked into the lake. I saw life f Not fish. but birds, people and mysel ltYhile I stared, I saw ripples They faded in and out Only to leave a few subtle marks And I realized this is how life is People make their splashes Only to fade away like the ripples In their lives.

-Darden Gillette

Days Gone By The feelings linger, like the feelings one has after visiting a calm and peaceful hideaway, ¡tucked away...

But only the sensations differ Rather than the sounds of birds and leaves rustling, or water dividing rocks, only the soft whispers of days gone by remain; stereos ablast friends conversing mowers grinding instructors instructing and another school year making its exit.

-Photo by Peyton Cramer

-Gannie Nichols

-13-

-14-

Fear Not the Hour of Death

by Denise Duncan t was one of those cold, drizzly days a week before Christmas. I was lost in my own thoughts as I dusted shelves, unaware of the Sunday shoppers picking over Christmas wreaths and Santa Claus candles. I was debating whether I should go straight home after work or whether I should go out to eat with "the girls" and then take in a movie. It was nearly noon when my contemplations were suddenly interrupted by my younger brother's sudden entrance into the store. It didn't take him long to seek me out. "Angie, can you ask Mr. Powers if you can run up to the church for a minute? There's someone there that Mom and Dad want you to see. You better hurry too; he may leave soon." I was slightly confused over the appeal in his voice, but I did as he asked without asking questions.

When we were in the car, I turned to him. "What's going on, Roger? Who's at church that I should see?" I didn't think he was going to respond to Jl!Y questions at first, but after a moment's pause, he turned to me.

"Maybe I -should tell you so you'll be prepared.

Reverend Mullins was at church today with the Halls.

Mom and Dad want you to see him. Let me warn you, Angie. He's a very sick man. They felt that it was important that you see him today."

I turned and looked out the window. We were quickly approaching the little white church that I had known since very early childhood. My eyes filled with sudden tears as I thought of my favorite minister, the man who was practically a grandfather to me. Almost ten years had passed since he had last preached at our church, but he returned occasionally and we cor­ responded with each other through postcards and letters. I could not imagine him being anything but cheerful and healthy. My mind's ramblings were interrupted by the realization that the car had stopped.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I opened the car door.

I had not even started up the church steps when he walked out. He did not see me immediately because he was concentrating on his slow descent. I noticed that his posture was not as erect as I remembered, and that the strong solid oak cane he leaned on was a new addition to his person. He glanced up as he neared the bottom and recognized me. His initial look of surprise was replaced with the slow smile of pleasure that was characteristic of him. "Angie, my dear. I'm so glad that I didn't miss you. I needed to see you." His voice was not as strong as it once was, but it still held that strange magic that instantly made one feel warm and at ease. I

I

-Photos by Eddie Bevis

-15-

was slightly confused, however, by the way he said it.

He sounded as if it was of the gravest importance that he did see me.

I forgot this, though, because he had reached the bottom of the steps and I was hugging him. I looked at him intently. He was much more frail than he once was, but I still saw the strength of character and the feeling of calm assurance that had always endeared him to me.

His wife was behind him, and I saw on her serene, elderly visage a small smile of acknowledgement mixed with a hidden knowledge that had not yet been revealed to me. I hugged her too. The three of us talked for a few minutes. They asked me about school and my job, and I, in turn, inquired about their family and their travels.

We had talked for maybe ten minutes when she touched his arm lightly. "Raymond, we should be leaving. We're to have lunch with the Halls and you shouldn't overdo it." She glanced at me, knowing that I would understand.

I hugged them each in turn. "Yes, Reverend Mullins. You really should be going. And me, I suppose I'll lose my job if I don't at least make an effort to get back to the shop." I waited with him while she pulled the car around and watched him as he walked to the car. He would not let me help him.

And suddenly, I became aware of those around me; the friends I had known all my life and the knowledge they had already grasped became evident to me. I would not see him again. It suddenly became apparent that I must touch him one last time.

Swallowing a growing lump in my throat, I called out, "Wait, Reverend Mullins!" I ran to him. He could not miss seeing the tears in my eyes. I clung to him. I could only whisper, "I love you."

His voice was reassuring. His final embrace held a sudden touch of its old strength. "Do not cry, my child.

We will meet again. God bless you." He pulled away abruptly and turned away from me. His "Go now" could not be argued with. As I turned, however, I noticed that he wiped a tear from his eye.

Reverend Mullins died a month ago. I never saw him again, but I see him often in my thoughts. I shall always remember him as my friend, my confidant, and my make-believe grandfather. But most of all, I shall know him as the man who gave love to all, asked for nothing, and even in death revealed that inner peace that is so often hoped for but so seldom acquired.

D

-16-

Love The lake was frozen solid Snow floating down like gentle rain drops The night setting with its eerie stillness Love is like these things Starting in a small corner Only to spread through us Eventually taking over everything Never lessening, but steadily deepening Shielding us from the rough Holding in the smooth This is Love.

-Darden Gillette

-Watercolor with ink by Dale Edmondson

-23-

-24-

Cinderella World Once, I took a journey (despite advice given) through a world of glass and crystal.

Trees glistened in the sun, Forest-green mountains threw light shadows upon the land, while dew dripped gently off a wildflower, Columbine.

I felt secure in this cinderella world, gazing at the stars and listening to rippling waters.

Then time ticked away.

Now, the cold wind blows and never stops stingingmy face; before, droplets of rain pour. clouds hang over­ more, then more.

Caught in bad weather with no shelter (warmth), I hang my head letting the tears flow like rain; while the world of glass and crystal shatters.

I, never to return.

-Connie Nichols

-Paintings by Reed Johnson

-25-

-26-

Second Prize for Fiction

Institutions

by Mary Claire O'Connell

W

-Photo by Eddie Bevis

-27-

atching Margret walk down the aisle, the early morning sunlight shining through the windows before her. Kevin waiting for her at the altar, I think half expecting her to turn around and run. I smile at him and wink, telling him not to worry, but he doesn't see me. Turning around to Margret slowly walking toward him, about to pass through the shaft of soft yellow light. This is the girl who said she'd never marry.

We were roommates at the University during our last two years there. Margret and I talked many times far into the night, with the ease and intimacy of two who have grown so from climbing in and out of each other"s souls with the step of a feather. Cody Maxwell from Texas and Margret Selly who fell from a star.

Margret's origins had always been a joke between us; 1 refused to believe that she was a product of our world.

A girl who walked around campus with her long brown hair in a braid, wearing clothes that always seemed a little bit too big. Her small round face dominated by a pair of very large, thick-lensed glasses that swallow her eyes and make them seein a dull, ordinary brown. But when Margret takes off her glasses, her face is taken over by a pair of huge, very myopic and very unordinary eyes. Eyes that capture light, releasing it back into the atmosphere in the form of a vibrant, brown and gold-flecked glow. If some people's eyes are the windows to their souls, Margret's are electrified screens across which flash her emotions as they are felt within her. Her eyes are charged with an inne, power. Are these the eyes of a girl from New Jersey? With her glasses on maybe. One of Margret's boy friends at school used to say that it was a good thing that she wore her glasses. If she didn't, a mad scientist would surely try to use her eyes to power some evil device. Steve was very suspicious of those he called mad scientists. They included everyone from nuclear physicists to the inventors of cup-a-soup, whom he was convinced are trying to dehydrate and freeze-dry the entire world. In any case, Margret wore her glasses and no one tried to use her for a generator. As a matter of fact, she went unnoticed by the world at large.

During our friendship, I never knew Margret to

have a steady boy friend; it j�st wasn't her style. She had a succession of lovers, but never anything permanent. I always told her that one day she would meet the right man, fall in love, settle down and live happily ever after. Four years at an eastern university had changed this small-town Texas girl's view of a lot of things, but there are some fairy tales I never stopped believing in. Our last two years of school were filled with more good times than bad, changes, and things that stayed the same. Toward the second half of our last year I got engaged to my future husband, while Margret continued with a casual relationship here and there, vowing to be a free spirit forever. But the howling northern winds blew down, and with them came a pair of dark green eyes. In March, Margret Selly met Kevin Wainwrite.

It was one of those blustery March days when the wind whips around corners and down alleys, bending trees and slamming doors. My fiance Frank and Margret and I were taking a coffee break between classes in the student lounge. Frank and I had been conspiring all morning about how to get Margret to go out that night on a blind date. A friend of Frank's had come to visit and he seemed perfect for Margret. To me that is. The last time I tried to fix Margret up with someone I thought was perfect she didn't speak to me for two days. I was willing to give it another try, though, because my roommate had been very depressed.

"And it's not because I'm lonely, Cody," she had said that morning; but her eyes belied her words.

"Margret, I know how much you value your freedom, but don't you think you should try monogamy someday?''

"Cody!" Margret reacted as if I had suggested that she have a sex�change operation. "Ever since you got that ring on your finger you think that everyone should be engaged, but serious relationships aren't for me.

I'm not built that way. And please don't give me any more of that right-man-coming-along-one-day stuff."

She rolled her eyes and shuddered dramatically. I had to laugh. It was true that I was so very happy I wanted everyone to experience the feeling of finding someone

-28-

to share a life with. I also knew that a lot of Margret's insistence on being free from commitments stemmed from a fear of being hurt.A long time ago Margret committed herself to a man who valued his freedom then as much as Margret said she did. It took her a long time to get over the experience, and when she got that lonely look in her eyes now and then, it made me want to make her as happy as I was. So when Frank suggested his friend Kevin, I figured it was worth a try.

"Tell Margret about your friend from Vermont, Frank," I said as we sipped our coffee.

"Well Margret, he's a journalist; he writes a

column for his hometown newspaper in Vermont. ...''

"Margret he's gorgeous!" I interrupted. "He has sandy red hair, green eyes, and a great build.... " "Cody!" This interruption came from Frank.

Margret looked at me. "Sounds like another one of your schemes, Cody."

"Ah Margret, it's not a scheme. I really think you and Kevin will have a lot in common."

"Like what?"

"He writes for a newspaper." ''So?'' "Well, you read the paper. At least meet him."

"I'm sure you've already made arrangements. Oh well, why not. Sure, I'll meet him."

I was really glad that she agreed, because about five minutes later Kevin walked in, according to plan.Frank made the introductions.

"Margret Selly, Kevin Wainwrite."

Now, I know there are a lot of people, Margret include<;!, who won't believe this, but I swear I saw sparks fly from Kevin and Margret's eyes when they shook hands and said hello. I swear.

"Cody's been telling me all about you, Kevin," Margret said, sparks still flying.

"She's told me all about you too, Margret."

Margret looked at me and laughed so hard sparks ricocheted off her glasses.

"I'm sui-e she has."

That evening, Margret and Kevin went to a seminar on overseas journalism policies that was being held on campus. This poor excuse for a date lowered my opinion of Kevin, but Margret couldn't stop talking about him the next day.

"Cody, he's fascinating! He has a great sense of humor.Did you know that he was in the Peace Corps?

We talked for hours last night."

'Tm really glad you like him. Are you going to see him again?''

"I gave him our phone number. I hope he calls."

Kevin did call, and he and Margret continued to see each other for the next two weeks.At the end of two weeks, it was time for Kevin to go back to Vermont to his home and his job. Even though I saw the sparks, and I loved the idea of a romance between the two, I really expected it to be just a casual affair. But when Kevin left town, he took the sparkle in Margret's eyes

with him. For a week, they flooded the room with sadness every time she took her glasses off.

"Margret, if I didn't know better, I'd think you might be just a little bit in love with that man." And really, I wouldn't blame any woman for falling for him.

Kevin had a special charm about him that I couldn't quite pin down. From a distance he looked much younger than his twenty-nine years, but close up you could see the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.

Along with the craggy, weather-beaten quality of his face, they gave away his age. Kevin's red hair and green eyes made him look like a Viking Norseman. "l think it's a little soon to call it love, Cody, but there's definitely something there. Frank says he'll be back the first week in April to attend more seminars, and I have to admit I'm glad I'm going to see him again.''

So, the first week of April came, and with it a change in Margret. The first noticeable difference was her legs. She decided to start shaving them. One afternoon 1 came back to the room and thought there was some kind of human sacrifice going on in the bathroom. There was a trail of bloody water from the shower to the door. "Margret," I said, "you're only supposed to remove the hair."

The next surprise came a few days later when Margret put in the contacts her mother gave her a year ago, the ones she had never worn. I didn't want to say anything, but she looked kind of bug-eyed with them in.

Between the band-aids on her legs and her inability to blink her eyes, Margret looked rather strange. No, she looked like a girl trying to impress somebody.I smiled indulgently, remembering when I did the same things.

It was April the fifth and no word from Kevin.

Margret went back to wearing her glasses and life went on as usual. The days were beginning to get a little warmer and Margret and I went out for walks sometimes in the afternoons. On one of these walks, one Saturday, we were passing through the park when 1 caught a glimpse of red hair.

"Look, Margret! Is that Kevin over there?" It was.

She started to walk over to him, but stopped suddenly.

With Kevin was a pretty blond girl. They were laughing and talking to each other, and for a minute I thought she was going to turn and walk away. But Kevin looked up and saw her.

"Margret! Margret, this is Jennifer. Well, hello Cody, how's Frank?"

"Just fine" I replied. There was an awkward silence; then we all said good-bye, mentioning something about all of us getting together for dinner some time that week. Margret was quiet for awhile on the way back to the dormitory, but then she picked up our conversation where it left off before we saw Kevin and whoever that was with him.

"Oh well, I knew he probably had a girl friend. I could tell. I mean he never mentioned it, but I could tell." We were back in our room studying.I was feeling extremely annoyed with Frank for fixing my friend up

-29-

with someone who already was committed. What a funny way to put it. Saying someone's committed sounds like he's in a mental institution. After a while I decided to forgive Frank after all, since it didn't seem to be bothering Margret any.

The end of the semester was drawing near, along with final exams and graduation. Margret was seeing someone occasionally, and Frank and I were still engaged. Kevin had been forgotten about, by me anyway, until Frank got a letter saying that he was coming to our graduation. I mentioned this to Margret, who seemed less than interested. "Who cares? I think it's nice that he's coming to see Frank graduate, but who cares?"

Students are not usually well known for their good dispositions during exam week, but Margret had been especially surly.She was grumpy right up through the commencement exercises, fairly snatching her diploma out of the dean's hand.I did notice, however, that she kept looking for someone in the crowd. Her eyes were scanning like nervous radar. They finally picked up their target, and this time he was alone.

At the reception, Margret and Kevin were in

animated conversation over in a corner. At one point, Margret took off her glasses to clean them, and let me tell you, the sparks were really flying.

Over two years have passed. I'm married now, and I recommend it to everyone. It's an institution everyone should be committed to. Even Margret, although it took a long time for her to agree to marry Kevin. It took numerous, soul searching conversations late at night in our kitchen. It took a three month retreat, even dating other men.But most of all it was those sparks. No one ever did believe me about that.

I knew Margret wasn't really meant to go through life alone. She knew it too; she was just afraid to admit it.

As Margret gets closer to the altar, my eyes fill with tears. I'm an old married lady now, but I still believe in the happily-ever-after principle.

"Do you Margret, take Kevin .... ?" No answer.

Margret was staring off into space, the sunlight shining off her glasses. Kevin reached up and gently removed them . Margret smiled up at him, love flashing across her eyes.

"I dol Yes I do!" â&#x2013;Ą

-Photo by Eddie Bevis

-30-

Don't Worry, Mom Don't worry, Mom; I'm a big girl now!

Remember the things we bought?

My scrubs of pencils are now silvered pens;

wools and tweeds and silks replace the frills of your candy­ pink little girl.

You can't buy time; she's older now.

Don't worry, Mom, you've done your job well and no more words need be said.

I know what life's about!

It's a different kind of living than you knew.

But the world grows older, and so do little girls.

Don't ponder too long, Mom, about where I'll be; the guy at the door speaks in dreams and those are easier held than he is.

But maybe he'll stay through fall on into spring

Don't ponder too long, Mom, on the smiles I've been getting these days.

I do still sleep alone, except for my bear and braids and visions of what is to come ..

But even those days are ending.

(or someone unknown yet)

and we'll grow as only age brings growth intertwined in love.

And don't cry now, Mom,

as I pack up my pens to paint the world and the easel of thoughts you gave me I'm only chasing the rainbows you taught me to pursue.

Please, don't cry, Mom; I'll be back to share the pictures I'll create from experience for moments inbetween moonbeams.

The world awaits your older little girl.

-Laura Homan

-Photo by Kayla Barudin

-31-

-32-

Blackbird early morning light the blackbird wakes sings his song to the morning. sunlight br.eaks open scatters through the trees danceďż˝ on the forest floor, the blackbird flies his black body shining in the sun. sunlight recalled the sky dulls into shadows, the blackbird sits atop the forest tree his song greets the late night dark.

-Mary Jeanne Shaughnessy

-Drawings by Diane Dunaway

-33-

-34-

First Prize for Poetry

Abstractions Abstract poetry Is the head alienated From the fluid rhythms of the heart; From the pulsebeat Of life ascending On frail butterfly wings That captivate each second with the speed of thought, And integrate the whole In an aerial symphony.

Genetics A course that was a grade ended. shouting heavenly ideals unrealized.

-Diane Dunaway

Nature reproducing us individually, forming all from common energy.

All one from some living cell splitting. knowing no countries or colors.

Mankind a quantitative species counting, thinking only of numbers.

Competing until we die hating, never knowing what for.

Our world of judicious jailers remains, a few fantasizing about the unit we are.

-Diana Winslow

-Photo by Eddie Bevis

-35-

-36-

Second Prize for Poetry

Castle's Fall The Girl You Met

My revelation at the sight of the crumbling castle brimmed my eyes with tears and so what I thought could not happen, did.

The castle that was built ages ago has finally fallen down given itself up to the laws of nature.

I am not so sure of myself, but I never thought the castle would fall.

-Drawing by George Bowles

Morning emerged from tumbled dreams, A pallid visitor.

I glimpsed a tangle of yellowed sheets, And you beneath them, Inert.

An alien experience, I, Disturbing your Stark spaces.

You woke with recollections Of the girl you met last night.

-Diane Dunaway

-Drawing by Marty Conover -Mitzi Milius

Perdu en p'echf! progressif Je regarde les horizons d"enfer

-David Coleman

Lost in Sin Honorable Mention in Poetry

Lost in progressive

Sin I scan The horizons

OJ

Hell

-Drawing by Toni Koger

-37-

-38-