Chrysalis Fall 2016

Chrysalis

literary & arts magazine FERRUM COLLEGE Fall 2016

Fa ll 2 016 E d ito r s Galdina Prado, Editor Kaitlin Roeper, Design Editor Sec ti o n E ditor s

Morgan (Julian)Brown, Prose Kiara Stewart, Poetry Myles Francisco, Visual Arts Sta ff Andre w Me a d ows Mic a el a R e d d i ck R achel Hanc o ck Lu c y By u n S ele ste C ow i e

Gre gor y White B obbi Gu i re D i amond Ke yes Ta’ Jon Olmo

Ad vis o r

Cara Ellen Modisett Judges Dan Smith, Prose John Kitterman, Poetry Wayne Bowman, Visual Arts

Barbara Hancock, Prose Melanie Almeder, Poetry Janine Culligan, Visual Arts

C o ve r / B a c k C ove r Nostalgia 2.0, Myles Francisco / Into the Woods, Rachel Hancock

A special thank you to Ivy Rivero...

Ivy has been a member of the Chrysalis staff since the Fall of 2012.

From the Fall of 2013 until the Spring of 2016 she was Editor in Chief of Chrysalis.

Thank you, Ivy, for your dedication to Ferrum College’s literary and arts magazine!

Table of Contents Nostalgia 2.0, Myles Francisco............................................................................... cover Nostalgia, Myles Francisco..............................................................................................6 No Pain, James Wilson....................................................................................................7 No Worries, Kiara Stewart..............................................................................................7 A Birthday Surprise, Galdina Prado..............................................................................8 You Are, James Wilson....................................................................................................9 Fire Breather, Myles Francisco........................................................................................9 Imitating Politics, Rachel Swyhart.............................................................................. 10 Black Magic, Lyric Swain.............................................................................................. 10 Pink Lady Cocktail, Lucy Byun................................................................................... 11 Untitled, Raynisha Jewelryman................................................................................... 11 Munchausen by Proxy Syndrome, Rachel Hancock (2nd place prose)............12-13 Somewhere in the Ocean, Kaitlin Roeper.................................................................. 14 Jellyfish, Devin Munn (1st place visual art)............................................................. 14 Line of Jellyfish, Devin Munn...................................................................................... 15 Star, Meagan Tate........................................................................................................... 15 Welcome to Jurassic Park, Andrew Meadows (2nd place visual art).................... 16 Untitled, Micaela Reddick............................................................................................ 16 Paradise, Andrew Meadows......................................................................................... 17 I Do Not Feel Safe, Micaela Reddick........................................................................... 18 Untitled, Ta’Jon Olmo................................................................................................... 18 Envy, Myles Francisco................................................................................................... 19 I Am, James Wilson....................................................................................................... 19 The Artist’s Studio, Raven Walker............................................................................... 20 Color, Rachel Swyhart................................................................................................... 20 Top of the World, Kaitlin Roeper................................................................................ 21 Ashes, Raven Walker..................................................................................................... 21 I Am the Timekeeper, Raven Walker (1st place prose)........................................... 22 Ascent, Raven Walker................................................................................................... 23 Memory, Rachel Swyhart (1st place poetry)............................................................. 24 View from Carrica Rede Rope Bridge, Galdina Prado............................................. 24 Memories, Lucy Byun................................................................................................... 24 A Wall That May Be Impossible to Break Down, Rachel Hancock........................ 25 Daddy’s Little Girl, Diamond Keyes........................................................................... 26 Spring Butterflies, Jennifer Moser............................................................................... 27 Love in the Rain, Jennifer Moser................................................................................. 27 The Letter, Galdina Prado............................................................................................ 28 Chaotic, Galdina Prado................................................................................................ 29 Untitled, Raynisha Jewelryman................................................................................... 29 Breaking the Cycle, Xena Guzman.............................................................................. 30 God’s Creation, Mallory Hall....................................................................................... 31 Snowy Fields in Ferrum, Kiara Stweart...................................................................... 31 Ambulance, Raven Walker........................................................................................... 32

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The Cheonggye stream night view, Lucy Byun......................................................... 32 Hocus Pocus, Kiara Stewart......................................................................................... 33 Sun Shine, Kaitlin Roeper............................................................................................ 34 A Little Bit of Luck, Bobbi Guire................................................................................. 34 Untitled, Seleste Cowie................................................................................................. 35 But He Loves Me, Micaela Reddick.......................................................................36-37 Jane, Rachel Swyhart..................................................................................................... 37 “Y” God, Maegan Tate.................................................................................................. 38 Sunset, Lucy Byun......................................................................................................... 38 The Mine, Raven Walker.............................................................................................. 39 Untitled, Seleste Cowie................................................................................................. 39 The Couple, Raven Walker (2nd place poetry)........................................................ 40 The City Lights Just Blur, Kaitlin Roeper................................................................... 40 Overnight, Diamond Keyes......................................................................................... 41 Untitled, Andrew Meadows......................................................................................... 41 Rainbow in a Vase, Michaela Martinez...................................................................... 42 Pinecone, Raven Walker............................................................................................... 43 Under the Pier, Maegan Tate........................................................................................ 44 Untitled, Seleste Cowie................................................................................................. 45 Pink Poppin’, Galdina Prado........................................................................................ 46 Six Months of Life, Forever in Our Hearts, Cassandra Pagans............................... 47 Paper Airplane, The Mystery Man.............................................................................. 47 Eulogy, Rachel Swyhart................................................................................................ 48 Call to Worship, Myles Francisco................................................................................ 48 On the Coast of Ireland, Galdina Prado..................................................................... 49 A Distant Love, Maleek Jones...................................................................................... 49 Future Home, Kaitlin Roeper...................................................................................... 50 Pigs in Blankets, Morgan Julian................................................................................... 51 19 in Mexico, Myles Francisco..................................................................................... 51 Love, James Wilson....................................................................................................... 52 The Green Meadow, Myles Francisco......................................................................... 52 Awwwtumn, Leya Deickman....................................................................................... 53 There are monsters. And then there is us., Crystal Wright.................................54-55 Strange Things, Jessie Franklin.................................................................................... 55 Chasing Freedom, Samuel Belcher........................................................................56-57 Crucifixion, Galdina Prado.......................................................................................... 57 Something Different, Tyreke Washington.................................................................. 58 Happiness, Tana Heath................................................................................................. 59 Paint Splat, Devin Munn.............................................................................................. 59 Lounging, Rachel Swyhart........................................................................................... 60 True Love, Michaela Martinez..................................................................................... 61 Artemis Fowl II, Rachel Swyhart................................................................................. 62 Motivation, Ta’Jon Olmo.............................................................................................. 62 The Calming Climb, Myles Francisco......................................................................... 63 Into the Woods, Rachel Hancock..................................................................back cover

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Nostalgia, Myles Francisco

No Pain….

by James Wilson

It was a hot summer day. I was extremely excited to be playing with the grownups. Our church baseball league was under way. I did what I was told and stood at the shortstop position. Glove tight to my hand, I was primed to make a play. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” I thought to myself.

I showed no fear as the batter stomped to the plate. A huge man he was. I didn’t think there was a huge possibility of the ball coming my way; I expected it to sail out of the stadium. Fastball thrown. Muscles used, bat swung.

Ball hit. It was coming straight for my face. I raised my glove to cover my face from a huge collision. The ball bounces off the ground faster than a speeding bullet. I lower my glove to grab it and, “boom!” The ball slams into my face like a freight train. All I feel is blood gushing from my gums. My tooth falls out on the ground. My lips vibrate continuously. Everything is a blur as the shock overwhelms the pain. I’m taken off the field by my parents and rushed to the dentist. He takes my fallen tooth and jams it back into my gums, no anesthesia. The most pain I’ve ever experienced, at the tender age of seven.

No tears flow from my eyes, so they say. Maybe they just want me confident.

I am facing a huge dental operation to reconstruct my mouth. So much for a cute smile. By the grace of God my smile is restored. I will never touch a baseball field again. Moral of the story, no pain, no gain!

No Worries

by Kiara Stewart

Don’t ever let them see you cry Show them that you’re strong Believe that you can get by Do it, prove them wrong You’re a lot stronger than you think This pain won’t last forever Trust me, it will shrink You’ll see, you are clever If at times you feel weak Just close your eyes, take a breath The future is not always bleak This worry ain’t worth the stress

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A Birthday Surprise

by Galdina Prado

Today was his birthday, a very special day indeed. What I had planned for him would be a surprise. He’d never see it coming. I loved him so much and I was sure he loved me but I wasn’t the perfect wife. He told me that every time I didn’t do something right, which was often. I’d suffered the beatings because they had been deserved. If supper wasn’t right to his liking, I was punished. My mother raised me to be a good wife but I failed miserably at it. Connor never seemed to be happy with what I did. Occasionally, he would give me approval or praise me. Then I would screw things up and he’d get angry. Not today. Today on his birthday everything had to be perfect.

I stood in the mirror looking at my reflection. My red dress caressed my frame, forming to my curves. It hugged my body in the sweetest way. I had on my black Christian Louboutin that defined the sculpture of my legs. My hair was in waves down my back the way he liked it. Loose for him to play with, while also being easy to hold me at bay when he grabbed for me. The only piece of jewelry I wore was my wedding band and the diamond necklace he gave me when we first started dating. Underneath my dress was a hidden surprise I had purchased the day before specifically for this night. I had laid a feast out for my husband. All of the things he loved the most. From the succulent lobster to the crème brûlée. The Armand de Brignac was on ice; chilled.

As 6:30 rolled around, everything was in place and I waited by the door to greet Conner. The door opened and Conner stepped into the house. I gave him a minute then said, “Happy Birthday, Conner,” and kissed him on the cheek.

He paused mid-way, taking off his jacket, and looked at me. It was then that he took notice in in my attire. It was clear by the dilation of his pupils that he liked what he saw. I took his suit coat, slowly sliding it over his shoulders, and down his arms, then placed it on the coat hanger by the door. Taking his hand I led him to the dining room. Seating him at the head of the table, I revealed his plate.

He looked at me and smiled. “Good,” he replied. I poured him some champagne then waited for him to acknowledge that I should be seated. He nodded and we proceeded to eat. We went through dinner as we always do, quietly.

When he was done, I stood and taking his hand, I led him into the bedroom saying, “now for your birthday surprise.” I shed my dress to reveal black lace lingerie. He smiled and walked to the bed. Sitting down on the edge. He scooted back toward the head board so that he could watch me. I grabbed the blindfold and walked toward him. Putting the blind fold over his eyes I started backward, when he grabbed my wrist so tight it hurt. I flinched, but stayed where I was. He caressed me intimately, then let me go. I pushed him back on the bed and straddled his waist, then reaching into my garter belt, I withdrew the knife. I kissed his lips, then his chin, and finally his chest above his heart. Then raising the knife in my hands, I slammed it into his heart. A heart for a heart and the greatest suprise…revenge.

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You Are Poem

by James Wilson

You’re as powerful as Moses’ Staff As targeted as Achilles’ Heel As colorful as Joseph’s Coat As sharp as David’s Rock As vibrant as Zeus’ Bolt As polished as Daddy’s Gun As legendary as Tupac’s Bandana As important as Samson’s Hair As swift as Shakespeare’s Pen As deadly as Brutus’ knife As bright as Solomon’s Crown As full as Noah’s Ark As crucial as Jesus’ Cross

Fire Breather, Myles Francisco

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Imitating Politics

by Rachel Swyhart

When I fear my own demise, Before I empty upon the world my gifts, I recall, fair one, a time when Only silence knew my heart And the rouges of pedantry Knew not the reason of my mind Within which resided so much more Than imagined by anyone else who, Themselves, detested the presence of Societal leeches, clambering at the Tit of the world, pretending with their children In games of the future and polishing Statues of dictators past, while snubbing The noses of their people in the boots of the Holy men. Not I, but many, feel disappointment And even scorn the idea of mine own thoughts Leaking out of my ears and pooling At your feet, full of whimsical notions of Equality and juvenile justice – And to them I say this, Upon what else did we build this country?

Black Magic Lyric Swain

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Pink Lady Cocktail, Lucy Byun

Raynisha Jewelryman

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Munchausen by Proxy Syndrome

by Rachel Hancock 2nd Place Prose

“It’s recording, Jodi, so please start from the beginning.”

“Like…the very beginning?”

“Yes, the very beginning.”

“Oh, okay…um…well when I was born my father was fighting cancer and things were looking good but he died within a month of me coming home from the hospital. And I can’t say exactly when I noticed weird things happening with me and my mother but my earliest memory is hearing the beeping of a heart monitor, and young doctor looking at me in concern. I think…no, yeah, there were definitely flowers in the room, all over the place, maybe even a few balloons.

After that my memories go back and forth from a home I barely saw to a hospital where I knew all the nurses by name. The longest I would stay home would be no more than a couple months. Something would always happen, like I would be playing in the yard and some freak dog would come over and attack me, so back to the hospital. Or I would feel fine in the morning, go to school, and as soon as I would come back home for dinner, I would be having a seizure and going back to the hospital. The doctors would do tests, or give me shots, tell me to go home and rest. Then a few days, or weeks, maybe a month later I would be back.”

“Where was your mother during all this?”

“Talking to the press, family or friends, or with me.”

“In that order?” *silence on the tape for 3 seconds, Jodi’s voice become destressed* “I don’t know!”

“It’s okay, Jodi. Why don’t we skip the rest and get to what happened on July 3rd.” *Jodi breathes in deeply and lets it out* “Okay, well, I had just gotten from the hospital once again. I had some kind of allergic reaction to the milk in the ice cream my mother gave me. I had had ice cream before then but mother got me a new kind and made me eat it. But mother told me to tell the doctors that it was my first time having it or she would punish me.”

“Punish you how?”

“Once she made me watch as she burned by favorite doll, on the grounds that I needed to ‘grow up’. That time she threaten to kill my cat, saying it causes me to sneeze too much.”

“What that true?”

“No! I loved my kitty!”

“Okay, so you got back from the hospital and what happened?”

“Mom was getting irritated, something about how people didn’t care and there wasn’t enough money. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong but I knew she was angry at me. She hit and yelled at me more than ever before, even tried to kill my cat although I did everything she wanted. A few days after getting back home it was July 3rd and she seemed a lot better. I woke up to my favorite breakfast food,

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she brushed my hair without hurting me, and even let me choose what to wear that day. Then after lunch she announced that we were going to go on a walk. I had assumed that she meant down the pathway to the road but instead we went into the woods, something she had never let me do before. We walked for a long time until we reached a clearing with an abandoned, crumbing farmhouse. I asked her why we were here and she replied, ‘There used to be a farmer, a wife, and their daughter that used to live there. After the farmer died it was up to the wife to keep them alive, but their daughter was weak, disobedient, and a liar.

Soon the wife couldn’t take it anymore, and called her daughter to the backyard because she had a surprise for her. When the daughter finally came out the wife pointed to an old well. She told her daughter that it was a wishing well and if she leaned far in to whisper her wish then it would be granted. Unfortunately the daughter was also naive and believed her mother. So she leaned in far and with one quick push from the wife, she was dead.’ Then my mother took me by the hand and led me to the back yard, and like I feared there was an old well covered in vines. She tried to pull me closer but I stopped her and I cried out, ‘That’s the well from the story, you’re going to kill me!’ Mother replied, ‘Not my own daughter,’ then her smile turned weird, scary even, ‘but then again my own daughter wouldn’t have been so weak as to no longer give people sympathy! Did you know the news channels no longer take my calls, or that my family claims to not have any money to spare for medical bills?’ I didn’t know what she was talking about and I was terrified. I just wanted her to let me go, but she continued to pull me to the well. I started to scream but she said there was no one to hear me. I thought I was going to die, but there was a rock at the foot of the well that she slipped on.

I saw the shock and fear on her face just as she fell backwards. Her grip tighten and she almost pulled me over as well, but I was able to squeeze my hand out at the last moment. Then my mother disappeared into the dark.” *silence on tape for approximately one minute* “Then you didn’t speak for 15 years. Why did you tell us this now?”

“Because my father said it was time.”

“Your father? Time for what?”

“Time for me to wake up.”

I heard the vinyl recorder crack as the needle went over an uneven section and I opened my eyes from darkness. I first heard the sound of a heart monitor beeping, and when I opened my eyes I saw a young doctor looking at me with real concern. Behind him the hospital room was covered in flowers and a few balloons.

Here I go again.

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Somewhere in the Ocean, Kaitlin Roeper

Jellyfish, Devin Munn 1st Place Visual Art

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Line of Jellyfish Devin Munn

Star Maegan Tate

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Welcome to Jurassic Park Andrew Meadows 2nd Place Visual Art

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Micaela Reddick

Paradise Andrew Meadows

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I Do Not Feel Safe

by Micaela Reddick

I am proud of me I am proud of my skin color I am so proud to wake up every day knowing, I am me With all this hate and discrimination It is safe to say...I do not feel safe In a world where color is such a topic of conversation It makes it hard to talk about anything else Every day, I see the news and tears start to flow That our African American community cannot grow African Americans are constantly being targeted Harassed and killed for no apparent reason Lord, I pray that this hate goes away My life matters and so do they

Ta’Jon Olmo

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Envy, Myles Francisco

I am Poem

by James Wilson

I am a youngin, an old soul An African American Male, A Nigga A hard-worker, A procrastinator A trendsetter, An outkast A Gucci fan, A Led Zeppelin fan An Admirer, A critic Ballin, Broke Short, High Insightful, an ass man A stoner, an alcoholic A sinner, A saint Stressed, blessed

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The Artist’s Studio

by Raven Walker

Body parts litter the room. Four large sheets of plywood lie across wooden sawhorses, creating spacious surfaces. Arms, legs, torsos, and heads lie haphazardly on the makeshift tables. Paint stains the floor. Dried plaster has settled like dust across almost every surface. A pottery wheel in the corner houses a slab of clay; a project forgotten before it was even started. Oil pastels lie scattered across a drawing table and half-finished pictures of sunsets and coral reefs and fairy gardens dangle from the wall, held in place by pushpins and thumbtacks and the occasional piece of tape. Drawing pencils rest in a red Solo cup on the windowsill; some sharp, some dull, some broken. Some barely used and some sharpened down to stumps. A nubby eraser sits atop an open sketchbook, the page smeared with stubborn graphite stains and scarred with near invisible lines. A wastepaper basket rests on its side next to a wobbly stool, surrounded by wadded-up paper balls, the skeletal carcasses of failed projects. A mallet and chisel balance precariously on the edge of a limbstrewn table and, in the center of the room, a tall pedestal holds a square block of limestone. There, a new face is beginning to take shape.

Color, Rachel Swyhart

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Top of The World, Kaitlin Roeper

Ashes

by Raven Walker Please forgo that old pine box.

Do not place me in the ground.

I lived my life unrestrained And in death, I won’t be bound.

Smile as you remember me.

I don’t want to see you cry.

I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.

It’s a temporary goodbye.

So take me to a mountain top Or maybe to the sea.

Somewhere where the breeze is strong And set my ashes free.

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I Am the Timekeeper

by Raven Walker 1st Place Prose

The sand funnels down almost as fast as I can scoop it into my gritty bucket and haul it back up. The sand never stops moving and I never get a moment’s reprieve. My muscles are weary and tired from an endless eternity of scooping and hauling and climbing and dumping the same grains of time into the same vacuole of life.

I hold the universe in my hands. I control the fate of every living thing and everything that is yet to come. How many times have I wished to set down my bucket and rest my exhausted body? I have considered sitting, for the first time since the beginning of my existence, and simply watching life and time trickle away to nothing.

The future is a fragile thing. Any hesitance on my part and the future may never become the past. The present could slip away with no tomorrow to follow it. It would be so easy, just to let it all go. To watch as all of time pools at the bottom of the glass and stays there. No more today.

No more tomorrow. Only yesterday, piled there, useless and forgotten with no today to remember it with.

And yet, I go on; scoop, climb, empty, descend, repeat. Why, you ask? Why continue to torture my body so? For what? Nothing, I tell you.

Who looks up, towards the bright beacon in the sky, and sees a simple man with his simple bucket and ladder laboring away to keep tomorrow coming? I am no more revered than the street pavers or shoe makers.

They attend their churches and pray to their gods, ignorant of my suffering. They care not for the man in the overalls, grit in his teeth and sweat on his brow, who ensures that their future is bright and present. They know nothing of the man, with sand in his boots and calluses on his hands, who hauls tomorrow out of the dark and dumps it into the light of today. They see not the man with tired arms and blistered feet who pours the future into the present.

But, alas, I forge on, for I am the timekeeper; shifting the sands of time from bottom to top, bottom to top, for no other purpose than to bring tomorrow into today.

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Ascent, Raven Walker

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Memory

by Rachel Swyhart 1st Place Poetry Recalling a disaster can only be done By drawing parallel dots and Forming lines between them, Until every aspect which once was Ignored causes one to recoil in horror.

How can rainclouds penetrate a sunny day?

Is not all the world a sunny day until it’s pierced By a raincloud? And how can that raincloud Wear the same boots as a man who reminds me Of why storms are named after people?

View From Carrica Rede Rope Bridge, Galdina Prado

Memories, Lucy Byun

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A Wall That May Be Impossible to Break Down

by Rachel Hancock

I just want to say Before we go any further I’m sorry I can’t always say what you want to hear I can’t It’s not because I hate you It’s because it hurts my stomach Like a knife, stabbing repeatedly To put myself into someone’s hands I’ve been alone all my life My mother and “friends” taught me To rely only on myself So what you are asking Can’t just be given So I’m sorry I do care And I’ll it show it when I can Maybe In the dead of night And without forethought I will let something slip through the cracks you made I know you will ask me to do it more But those cracks are only so wide For right now Because who knows what the future holds I didn’t expect it to hold you And for that, another crack as appeared

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“DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL”

by Diamond Keyes

I understand now.

It makes perfect sense to me.

I get it.

I chase what I’ve learned to be love, but I’m starting to realize that what I’ve learned as love is far from the truth.

How I’ve learned what love is.

The expression of it.

The reaction to it, The embrace.

Is not the true definition of love.

I have allowed outside forces to influence my love but I have not learned what it means to love me.

I love hard for others, But I never showed anyone how to love me.

Truly love me.

Unconditionally.

What is love to me?

What is my definition of love?

I honestly have no idea.

I wish you loved me.

One that is supposed to know me like the back of your hand, Yet, You treat me like a stranger.

You don’t hear me.

You don’t see, ME. I wish you could see me.

I care, because you don’t.

I love, because you won’t.

You hurt me to my soul.

What does that mean?

You dug the deepest hole, You exposed the most vulnerable part of me, & shot right through the middle.

THEN, you look at me as though I was the one who handed you the gun.

“I LOVE you.”

“I miss OUR bond.”

“I want YOU back in my life.”

“LET. ME. IN.” & I do… & I try, even when you lie, I try.

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Spring Butterflies, Jennifer Moser

Love in the Rain, Jennifer Moser

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The Letter

by Galdina Prado

It sank in like an anchor in a vast expanse of thrashing waves: I would no longer see him again. He was the best and the worst thing in my life but I loved it. I loved him. Now he was leaving with no word as to when he would return. A single letter from the Army and away he was swept.

For so long, all I had was him and then he was gone. I was all alone, carrying his child who had never gotten to meet her father, let alone hear his voice. Video chats and handwritten letters twice a month had become my companion. I read his words to the child growing within my womb every night. Every night when I slept in bed, I hugged his pillow to my chest and inhaled the woodsy spice that still lingered in the linens on his side of the bed. It had been seven months since he had left and those seven months had been hard. I had no one to tell my secrets or to comfort me in my sadness except the small white envelope that came in the form of his love.

As the child within me grew we both became excited.

You were to get leave to be at the hospital upon the birth of your daughter.

In all of our letters and thirty-minute chats, it was clear that you were excited to be a father. We talked about baby names and decided on Catalina.

It was your grandmother’s name. A beautiful name for a beautiful miracle.

I waited for your video call today, but not one did I receive. I waited the next day and the next, but not once did my phone ring. I began to worry. This was so unlike him. We rarely had the chance to talk, so when we could we always made the time to. Seven days went by and I worried about why you hadn’t video chatted me and was preparing to give birth. They told me not to worry, I’d only hurt myself. So, I focused on my baby and the weeks I had ahead. I packed my things and prepared the baby bed.

A week before our daughter’s birth, there was a knock on the door. On my front porch stood a man in uniform. I smiled and opened the door expecting news of my love. What I got was a handwritten letter from the Army and a final letter from my guy. The letter drifted in the wind and landed at my feet as my body floated to the ground in a heap of silken dress. I wrapped my arms around my torso and silently began to cry. My little girl was born today upon a letter of death and a note from her father who wrote a lifetime of love in his final letter.

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Chaotic

by Galdina Prado In the midst of my own chaos You were the light that reeled me in You saved me from drowning in my own sin A calling to my heart You helped me resurrect A feeling so deep I thought I could forget.

An unconditioned emotion One that never ceases to end Loving me every second From the moment I let you in You won me with your smile And your loud careless laugh And made me into something better Than I had been in my past.

Raynisha Jewelryman

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Breaking the Cycle

by Xena Guzman

A bottle a night For me means another fight.

To me the bottle is always right It has my mind turning And it’s got my words slurring.

To me the bottle will always be true It’s like a dream of a best friend come true.

My mother cries and I deceive her with my lies She prays for me but yet I Ignore her every try.

She wants to save me and help me Be free, of what she thinks is slowly killing me.

What she doesn’t know is that it Relieves my pain It’s not a game I’m not insane I swear to God Because I do want to be free but like I said, The bottle won’t let go of me.

At night I stare into the sky, praying every night that I don’t die I feel the rush and I take the blame I knew better than to start playing this game.

I didn’t know I was young and helpless And now I’m stuck in a huge mess, I can’t get out alone, I need your help I want to be me So it’s time to break the bottle And set me free.

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God’s Creation Mallory Hall

Snowy Fields in Ferrum Kiara Stewart

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Ambulance Raven Walker The Cheonggye stream night view Lucy Byun

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Hocus Pocus Kiara Stewart

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Sun Shine, Kaitlin Roeper

A Little Bit of Luck, Bobbi Guire

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Seleste Cowie

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But He Loves Me

by Micaela Riddick

“We just landed, Mama,” said Cara. “Yes Mama, we’re fine. Aaron is unloading the car now. We’re on our way to the hotel.” Cara and her boyfriend, Aaron, are enjoying a vacation at the Bahamas to celebrate their anniversary. This being her first relationship, Cara is so excited to have been with someone for this long. Cara and Aaron have been dating for two years and they couldn’t have been any happier...so she thought.

“Well, here we are,” said Aaron. “Room 304. Let’s celebrate by grabbing a bite to eat by the beach.” They both were putting their clothes away and unpacking. The couple was staying for one week full of lazy beach days, good food, and full of outdoor adventures. Cara decided to change into something more comfortable and tropical because she bought so many outfits for the excitement of this trip. She slips into a long maxi skirt with white sandals. Cara touches up her makeup and fixes her hair, excited for a night out in her favorite place. Aaron is dressed in a button down shirt and khaki pants. Cara puts her makeup bag down and is heading out the door, until Aaron looks and sees her outfit and does not approve. “What are you wearing? You look like a cheap whore,” Aaron says.

“How? I am wearing a long dress and sandals,” Cara says while continuing walking. Aaron grabs her arm and begins choking her, Cara instantly begins crying and wondering why he is so upset. Aaron then punches her and slams her against the wall. Cara falls to her knees and begins crying, ruining her makeup. Aaron then proceeds to grab her a towel and tells her to clean herself up as he walks downstairs and waits in the lobby for her.

Cara starts having flashbacks of what Aaron used to do, but he claimed he would stop physically and mentally abusing her. Cara and Aaron have a past of physical and mental abuse and Aaron has promised Cara that he would get better and control his anger but nothing has changed. When Aaron gets physical, he always buys her things afterwards to make up for what he did. Aaron calls them “just because” gifts, but she knows exactly what they are is for. Aaron buys Cara her favorite things, Victoria’s Secret apparel, Michael Kors bags, and anything she desires because Aaron “loves” her.

Cara notices her face is swollen and tries to hide it with makeup. She cleans herself up and goes downstairs to the lobby, where she sees Aaron standing there with flowers and a purse full of money. Aaron kisses Cara and says, “You look beautiful.” Cara puts on a fake smile and suggests they go on with the evening.

Aaron has planned a romantic evening for them. He has booked a reservation at a seafood place for Cara. As soon as the two enter, Cara sees flowers and a brand new pair of shoes and her mood immediately changes. Cara forgets about what just happened because she is in love with Aaron and he buys her nice things.

Aaron is talking about their plans for the rest of their vacation and how he cannot wait to show Cara events he has planned for her. The waiter comes and welcomes the “happy” couple to the restaurant and they ask him, “What do you suggest on having tonight?” The waiter suggests the “beautiful lady have she-crab

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soup,” and it just so happens, that is Cara’s favorite dish of all time. Cara smiles and thanks the waiter for calling her beautiful but Aaron gets angry. “Are you serious right now?” Aaron says, “You are going to flirt with him right in front of me?” Cara is appalled and has no idea what Aaron is talking about. Aaron pushes the dinner table over and causes a scene at the restaurant. Cara is crying once again and has no idea why Aaron would act like this. The restaurant manager comes in and asks that Aaron calms down and Aaron pushes him. Soon after, the police are called and come in a hurry. Cara stands in a state of embarrassment, crying in the palms of her hand, wondering what is going on. The police are asking Cara a series of questions like “has this young man ever put his hands on you?” “Yes, quite a few times. I know he loves me, he just has an anger issue and I keep making him mad,” Cara says. “Ma’am, with your permission. He can take a visit with us and be charged with domestic violence.” Then something in Cara’s mind clicked. Cara needed professional help and needed to leave her abuser.

Aaron was taken into custody that night and Cara never looked back. Cara got professional help, moved to a new area, and is seeking to fix herself before she gets back in another relationship.

Jane, Rachel Swyhart

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“Y” God?

by Maegan Tate Everyone says things happen for a reason. But what could those reasons be? To make you stronger? To make you grow? No! This kind of stuff don’t happen for a reason. He’s suffering. Why God? Why not me? He’s only a child! What did he do to deserve this? God this isn’t cool. He’s so innocent. He doesn’t need to be going through this. But God he is strong.

He pushes through everything you throw at him. New treatments ain’t got him down. He’s so brave, God. Yeah, I’m not happy with you but please just get him through this.

Sunset, Lucy Byun

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The Mine

by Raven Walker

It’s dark.

My lantern casts a small circle of warm yellow light in a threefoot circle around me, but it’s murky past that, as though the light is meeting a solid black wall and can’t penetrate any farther.

Protect your light.

The air smells damp and a strong, earthy scent coats my nostrils.

I can hear water dripping in the distance; the steady pat pat pat of liquid meeting mud. The sound is muted, absorbed by the dirt walls of the tunnel.

Protect your light.

I take a few steps forward and the light shifts with me. The lantern screeches softly on its handle and my shoes squeak on the metal tracks and I wince. Even the slightest sound is too loud in the silence. I keep walking, trying to be quieter.

I go on for what seems like forever. The tunnel doesn’t appear to have an end. I think I hear something in the distance and my heart jumps in my chest. Or maybe I just think it does, because it would have, before.

I look in every direction, but I can’t see past the glow of the lantern. I’m trapped here in my little circle of light.

Protect your light.

I hear a screech and then the sound of a car rolling down steel tracks. I jump to the side just as the wooden car flies by me. The moving object sends a gust of wind blowing past me. It brushes my skin and picks up the fine strands of my hair.

The flame in my lantern dances in the breeze, flickering in resistance before burning out completely.

My little circle of light vanishes with the flame and I disappear.

Protect your light. No matter what, don’t let it go out before you reach the end of the tunnel. If your light dies, so do you.

Seleste Cowie

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The City Lights Just Blur, Kaitlin Roeper

The Couple

by Raven Walker 2nd Place Poetry

She looks at him Like the world Revolves around the Sun in his smile.

Like the pupils of his eyes Hold vast galaxies and The white of his sclera Is frothing ocean water, Churning with waves Meant to sweep her away To a world where Only they exist, Alone together.

She floats around him Like she’s trapped In his gravitational field And she is happy To be right there.

She smiles at him Like he is a quarry Full of precious gems Mined for her alone.

I stand above them On the fishing pier, Staring down at them Where they stand On the beach.

She looks at him Like he’s the only person In the entire universe And he has not Looked at her Even once.

Overnight

by Diamond Keyes

No longer seen, the walls that entrap me, and the darkness of the halls engulfs my shadow. Silently, as my feet stumble through the hallway, trembles flow through as the cold front crawls up my spine like spiders. Green glows from exit signs, being the only form of light; their ghostly shine is my only key to direction. My queer mind aches for its wonder but my shivering legs won’t move.

My lingering fingers touch the walls as my vision, too blurred to see, reveals the death that lies ahead. He swiftly cuts past me, like a raven scouring the midnight sky. The sudden weakness of my bones and my deteriorating muscles cause my legs to fumble…falling, falling, falling, falling… As I lie face down on the cold, wet, rigid floor, the blood slowly pours from my aching feet. The bruises fill up my body, yellow, purple, blue, even a few black, matching the colors of my dying soul. Standing at a decision on which my life, ready to give up everything, to just die and finally be upon my peace….No, not yet. Not. Just. Yet. I’m not through with life, but death is ready for me. Slowly regaining my balance, legs trembling, I regain the strength to get the soles of my feet on the ground. I walk, sliding my bare bleeding feet across the floor, water pouring from the ceiling as if it were a thunderstorm. I stop… breathing heavily, hands stretched out resting on both walls, I feel a dark presence behind me. He’s breathing down my neck. With my heartbeat increasing as he exhales, the hairs on the back of my neck begin to arise. As I gently open my lips to speak, He drives His claws deep into my back, trying to pull me further and further, deeper and deeper into the chaotic hell that stands behind me. As I try to pull forward, away from my demons, the deeper He digs the bone into my skin, soaking itself and the floor with my blood; smiling with satisfaction. Screaming to awaken myself from this nightmare but no volume comes out from my mouth. Thrusting its body structure against mine, forcing me to approach closer and closer to which was ahead in my gaze. Highly afraid and unprepared, I use every bit of strength I have left and fight Him off for as long as I can. Kicking, lunging my body forward to remove myself from His grasp in my back; but it is too late… My fate has been set and there is nothing that I can do. Head draping over, my feeble arms fall to my sides and my feet hang above the floor. I manage to get out a few simple words, words that could determine my survival or my ultimate demise… “I’m…Not…Dead…” I say. A small whisper, so faint and soft, sends chills up my spine like spiders, “Your Time Is Up…” Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.

If I should die before I wake, I pray Thee, Lord, My Soul To Take…

Andrew Meadows

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Rainbow in A Vase, Michaela Martinez

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Pinecone Raven Walker

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Under the Pier, Maegan Tate

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Seleste Cowie

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Pink Poppin’, Galdina Prado

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Six Months of Life, Forever in Our Hearts

by Casandra Pagans

Six months we had you.

Six months we prayed.

Six months you were our strong fighter.

But God decided you had earned your wings.

Forever in our hearts, for so much we learned.

Life is not a given; it’s something that is borrowed.

Forever in our hearts, you are now at home and we miss you dearly.

Praise God that we will see you soon.

In memory of Atticus Nathaniel Robertson 6/5/2015 to 12/6/2015

Paper Airplane

by The Mystery Man

You find a mysterious house while walking in the forest.

You look inside and see a strange assortment of things.

A paper airplane being thrown through a loop, over and over again.

A pane of glass that cracks every time you glance at it.

A soft looking teddy bear just sitting in the corner.

A computer that is processing, calculating and computing

without stopping.

A kite in some tiny clouds.

A dog that looks a little lost.

And a ghost that floats around barely visible to the naked eye.

You are curious to see what else you will find hiding in this strange

old house.

But alas you can’t get in, the door is locked; it seems like you are

destined to be kept out.

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Eulogy

by Rachel Swyhart

She shall be missed. Even while mourning her passing, we remember her as she was, alive and aglow. Somehow, the villainous world baffled her. We remember how she’d air her dirty laundry only in the most private of company, with a heavy heart. We remember her struggle because despite her positive outlook on life, she was troubled. To her, the wrong imperfections were punishable by death, and she felt herself to be the most imperfect of all. She used every day like a cheap cigarette. She was taking hits of life one after the other, carton by carton, until all she could breathe was smoke. Her head sported a constant cloud, but she knew – like the nose of a plane aimed at the ground, like the whiz of a snowball hurled across a field, like the love letter sent and received too soon, she sprinted headlong towards her fate.

She flew into the fog not knowing and yet determined to either succeed or fail as efficiently as possible. She ran not towards the end of life itself, but towards the knowledge one reaches at the end of their life. If she stopped to show you for what reason she ran, truly she did love you – and yet, where is she now?

Buried in the fog where she belongs.

Call to Worship, Myles Francisco

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On the Coast of Ireland, Galdina Prado

A Distant Love

by Maleek Jones

You know that feeling?

Like something’s missing?

And you want and need love But not from a distance You just want all of her hugs And need all of her kisses When you’re surrounded by plenty But she’s not there, so you don’t see any Like you want to see her face But you don’t want to wait And you want to break down But you know you can’t With your eyes closed, it’s you two alone But as soon as they open, she’s gone You know you have to keep it together But it’s really hard, cause you really miss her.

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Future Home Kaitlin Roeper

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Pigs in Blankets

by Morgan Julian There were three little pigs who all lived together in a nice brick house in the city. Not exactly a mansion, but nothing to sneeze at either. But times were hard and bill collectors were unforgiving. And the Big Bad Wolf of Wall Street came to evict them and tear their house down. With their house in shambles and their deed revoked, they decided not to stick around and let the rich wolf be provoked. They decided to move out to the sticks, where it wasn’t as glamorous but not too shabby either.

But then the Big Bad Wolf of Wall Street got greedy again and decided he wanted a “modest� summer home. So he came and he huffed and he puffed and evicted them out of their house again, this time leaving them completely homeless. With nowhere to go, the three little pigs gathered what they could and built their next home out of straw in a bad neighborhood filled with more wolves on the prowl. The pigs had to lie low for the rest of their lives if they ever wanted to rebuild and survive.

19 in Mexico, Myles Francisco

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Love

by James Wilson Love is the scent of the air Love is me touching her hair Love is a child’s first breath Love is a child’s first step Love is my only joy Love is treated like a toy Love is more than me or you Love is everyone old and new Love is dying for another Love is standing with a brother Love is made of only love Love is made of God above

The Green Meadow, Myles Francisco

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Awwwtumn, Leya Deickman

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There are monsters. And then there is us.

by Crystal Wright

The central chamber holds more people within its walls today than it has in the past decade. I sweep my eyes over the room from where I sit perched on the ledge of a window, my legs dangling several feet above the floor. There is quite the gathering, more than anyone thought.

The Elders were beyond shocked as they trailed in by ones, pairs, and sometimes small groups. The call was sent out on the four winds as a final plea for those hunters that remained to rally to make a final stand, or so the Elders preached.

Truth is they held little to no belief that anything would come of it, but there was an answer.

Hunters from all over the world, from the forgotten places on the edges of the map to the dark shadows in heart of the largest cities: they heard and they have answered. This is a congregation of different races, genders, specializations, languages, appearances, and so much more. No two of us are the same. There is only one thing we have in common and that is what we are, what brought us all here.

“There are monsters. And there are those who hunt them.” The Elder is saying solemnly to the gathered hunters. I bite back a scoff of derision. Of all the things, that is his opening line? This is just a waste of time. The Elders playing at being in charge while they attempt to come up with a plan. Shaking my head, I shift my weight and slide off the ledge to drop to the floor with a dull thud. Dusting off my pants, I straighten and begin to walk towards the chamber’s exit.

“Excuse me, huntress, but what are you doing?” The Elder inquires, his voice confused. The hunters closest to me turn to look me over, size me up, and weigh my worth. I don’t shrink under their inspection.

“I am leaving,” I respond as I start to walk forward again.

“But why?!” I sigh, my eyes sliding closed as I bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose before lowering it and turning to face the Elder where he stands on his lovely little platform.

“Because you’re wrong.” He blinks, sucking in a breath, most likely to begin a long-winded speech, but I continue, cutting him off before he can even start. “Don’t get me wrong. There are monsters. Things that go bump in the night.

That linger in the shadows feeding off the superstitions and fears of those that naively think that they are nothing but myth.” I wave a tattooed hand in the air dismissively.

“On that part you were right, but the ‘and then there are those who hunt them’ bit? That’s where you’re wrong. We are not something different, not really.

We are monsters, just like what we hunt, because once you hunt something long enough you take on its aspects, its characteristics, you become it in a way. As the saying goes, it takes one to know one.” I spread my hands, gesturing at the hunters scattered throughout the room. “They know it and I know. There are monsters and then there is us. Two sides of the same coin.” I smile humorlessly at the stunned expression on the Elder’s face. Shaking my head slightly, I turn on my heel and head towards the door once more.

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“I don’t need to listen to you prattle on about what we are and a history you didn’t believe in until everyone arrived to know what needs to be done.”

The hunters closer to the door begin rising one by one, some speaking quietly amongst themselves before following my example and heading towards the door.

The hunter closest to the door, a tall male covered in tattoos that match my own, shrugs off the wall and opens the chamber doors.

“Wasn’t expecting you to make a speech,” he says, a single eyebrow raised as he falls into step beside me.

“So says the hunter who literally just yesterday made a speech to a group of children about what it means to take up the hunter’s path? I get it from you.”

He chuckles quietly. “Besides, it’s the truth.”

“That it is,” he admits, the teasing and joking gone from his tone as we approach the exit. Pushing open the heavy metal doors, we step out into a night that is aflame and filled with piercing screams and roars.

Glancing back as the other hunters pour from the doorway to what was, once upon a time, a church. I see the light of the burning building reflect off their eyes, causing them to glow eerily. I turn to look up at my hunting partner with a smile that is all teeth, knowing my eyes are glowing as well.

“The night is young. Monster vs. monster, let the hunt begin.”

Strange Things, Jessie Franklin

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Chasing Freedom

by Samuel Belcher

Everywhere I look people are searching for love They look in vain because it really only comes from above Everyone is searching And hurting The truth is, He is working God is always moving and shaping While we’re trying to fill these holes In our hearts, they’re gaping We look to ourselves and other things that aren’t strong When really he’s been waiting there..all along Stop running to things that are empty, Jesus is standing there saying, “Come to me.”

He doesn’t fail us, He never will If only we’ll sit in his presence and just be still By faith it can and will be done We don’t need those things society calls “fun” Sex, drugs, and partying got me nowhere Really only closer to Hell and I don’t want to go there I struggle, I fail everyday But each time he picks me up and shows me the way I have learned these things through submission And now when I’m not praying, I miss him Romans 1:20, there’s evidence, don’t you see?

He’s holding out forgiveness like a gift, it’s free Don’t waste your time with money or stuff The reality is you can never have enough People ask me why I do what I do I tell them if they knew They would too We don’t deserve what we have and yet he gives us more I see people turning away and I’m like are you sure?

Don’t you see?

There is no downside to becoming who you were meant to be!

We’ve strayed so far and we’re headed towards harm He’s standing there, waiting for us with open arms Everyone thinks of the rules and activities They say no, that can’t be for me

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There’s no way I could comply I feel like my life would always be dry!

That’s simply not the case In fact you’re making your life a waste In reality If you come to me, Run away from those harms And into my arms, You’ll finally see, That this is where you’re truly free.

Crucifixion, Galdina Prado

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Something Different

by Tyreke Washington

I’m crazy, insane; Oblivious to the looks.

Unsure of the rights Proud of the wrongs.

The first to feel pain; The last to be tamed.

I soar the greatest heights Yet still so far from flight.

The one with a brain; Hidden between the pages of a book.

Afraid of the blinding lights Unknown to where he belongs.

A boy fond of the rain; Told he could lose but never gain.

He never chose to fight Neither to scream into the night.

But hidden until called; A fiery, passionate spirit.

He should’ve told them all It’s okay to be a little different.

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Happiness, Tana Heath

Paint Splats, Devin Munn

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Lounging, Rachel Swyhart

True Love, Michaela Martinez

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Artemis Fowl II, Rachel Swyhart

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Motivation

by Ta’Jon Olmo

So sit and think about this Let’s focus on life like it’s a beautiful bliss Don’t sit around with regret on what you missed Even when life gets awkward like that first kiss If we succeed we build success That achieving never the less Life is a quiz maybe a test Some take journeys or a quest But at the top there’s no struggles or no worries with the rest So let’s stay focused on the mission Don’t have drive have an ambition Even when life gets tough like paying that college tuition But you got it in you, you and you And maybe we would make better decisions

if we would just think things through So in the end aim for the sky And there’s never a reason to ever ask why It’s hot in the kitchen and everybody want a piece of the pie So whether your into the woods or touring the world It’s funny to see how life unfurls each different aspect of each boy and girl But I hope failures not in you…the dream is not dead And if you’re taking steps backwards who knows what lies ahead It may be easy to relax in a comfortable bed but why not give

strive with motivation instead

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The Calming Climb, Myles Francisco

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