A huge thank you goes to the Creative Writing Club Advisor, Ms. Sofia Mazloum, for her constant support, her dedication to improving our skills, and her passion for writing. Thank you for allowing us to delve into a world beyond reality, while giving us the opportunity to reach our utmost potential.
KYNDA SALAM RHEA MADHOUN
DANIEL CHEHIMI
Daniel is an aspiring, passionate writer with great interest in screenwriting and filmmaking. This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
KARIM is a 20 year old with subtle ethnic Lebanese qualities that one can easily mistake him for a European. His vocal expression strives to demand attention, often simulating an air of composure. Dressed in formal attire, he's standing by a desk and strapping a watch onto his hand.
STELLA, also 20, is a blonde American whose countenance is very telling. She has the tendency to speed talk when she feels anxious and uncomfortable. In underwear, she's going through the closet diligently.
This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
How much longer do you think you need?
STELLA (looking through closet)
Like, around fifteen should be enough.
She takes out a black dress and slides the closet door shut. Karim opens a drawer, his hand reaching for a small pouch.
KARIM So, we'll Uber in five?
She holds the dress over her body and looks into the closet's mirror for a beat.
STELLA Hm..?
She drops the hanger aside and slips into the dress.
KARIM Stell?
He slips the small pouch into his back pocket.
STELLA (trying to zip the dress) Yeah? KARIM (walking towards her)
I can't be late. STELLA (trying to zip the dress) I told you I need like fifteen.
This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
KARIM
Because I don't trust ordering in advance, because it's not reliable, especially here.
STELLA And you got that from? KARIM
I got that from...experience. STELLA
Did experience not teach you that I need time to pack properly?
I meant order. I'm gonna order in five. You'll get your fifteen, I promise.
STELLA
Why didn't you just order in advance?
He zips the dress. He holds her by the waist.
KARIM
You wouldn't have finished in a week if I'd told you earlier.
STELLA
Oh my god, you're so vile. You know how much first impressions mean to me, and now this dress doesn't look as good as I thought it did.
This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
STELLA (CONT'D)
How do you expect me to wear it, because I have nothing else to wear and KARIM You'll wear it, look beautiful as always, and leave, (beat, in french) a near perfect impression.
STELLA Stop doing that.
KARIM (in french) Doing what?
STELLA
That the random French. It doesn't work anymore. KARIM I'll bet on that.
STELLA No, I don't wanna bet on that.
KARIM (in french)
Because you like it.
STELLA (in weak French accent with a tone of mockery)
Shut it. I don't like it. I don't like it at all, and I don't like this dress. She sighs for a beat.
KARIM (chuckling)
At least your French is getting better.
This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
STELLA
Oh my god, say something useful, for once.
KARIM (sarcastically)
Breathe, cowgirl. Breathe in and breathe out.
STELLA You said near. KARIM What? STELLA
Near perfect. Why near perfect? I know I'm...
He takes an idiosyncratic necklace out and slowly places it around her neck.
KARIM Just missing this.
He takes the small pouch out of his pocket and opens it quickly behind her back.
STELLA (CONT'D) ...not fully dressed yet, but you're making me even more nervous and
STELLA (eyes widening, smiling) You're really trying to make me feel better, huh? Is this for, like, the new year?
KARIM Something like that. STELLA (turning to face him) It looks beautiful.
This piece, which will be continued throughout different editions of the magazine, delves deep into the complexities of family life through the interaction of Lebanese households with foreignly-based identities. Cultures begin to mingle and as a result, the boiling pot jingles with flaming drama locked inside, begging to divulge.
They hold eye contact.
KARIM It's my mother's. STELLA (confused) What?
His phone rings. KARIM (breaking eye contact) Speak of the devil. He walks hurriedly towards a bedside table and reaches for his phone. STELLA (checking out the necklace) Wait, did you, like, steal this from her?
KARIM (checking his phone) We're late. STELLA Is it her? KARIM Get ready quick no noise. STELLA (holding the necklace) And you'll explain.
He nods and mouths: "I will".
She carries on with getting ready.
What is easier: To love or to be loved? There’s really no definitive answer. In Tala’s opinion, it is both and neither. You might disagree, after all it does depend on your story. But to understand her perspective, let me introduce you to hers.
My love.
I don’t know who you are but I know who you won’t be.
I know that your intentions never were to hurt me.
I know you tried your best even though your best sometimes was bad.
I know you attempted to cheer me up but your attempts made me sad.
I was sad because I didn’t want to accept that your effort goes to waste.
That it burns with all the letters that with my pain I have embraced. ButIwasinpain,mylove. Andtheysaybeautyispain,buttherewas nobeautyinthepainIfelt,mylove. IonlyfeltthatpainwhenIwasinlove. InlovewiththeimageofyouIcreatedin myhead Butthatlove,withallitsstrength,was hangingonbyathread. Thatthreadthatgotthinnerandthinner witheverytimeIheldyou. Thatthreadthatgotweakerandweaker witheverylonelynightIwentthrough. Wishingtobebyyourside,tojustfeelyou inthebreeze.
What is easier: To love or to be loved? There’s really no definitive answer. In Tala’s opinion, it is both and neither. You might disagree, after all it does depend on your story. But to understand let me introduce you to hers.
All the tears I cried trying to teach you how to stay
Before my dry heart with which I loved you slowly starts to decay. And fade piece by piece just like it did when
I watched you walk away.
It caused more pain, my love. But with all this pain I was still able to love.
lie.
Whatwassohardaboutit?TellmemaybeI caneaseitupforyou.
And Oh it caused more pain, my love, when you answered me with a yes.
I don’t know who you are even though I deeply thought I did.
I spent so many breaths on you, but none of which I regret
What is easier: To love or to be loved? There’s really no definitive answer. In Tala’s opinion, it is both and neither. You might disagree, after all it does depend on your story. But to understand her perspective, let me introduce you to hers.
You were worth breathing for, you were worth every bit
Every bit of patience that I had, and every bit that I didn’t.
Every long second I could wait when I believed that I couldn’t.
But it’s that second now that I knew that I wasn’t the one who tried.
Ididn’ttrycauseIfounditeasytolove you,butforyoulovingmewasafight.But I’mnotheretoblameyou,ortoletoutwhat Ikeptinside.
CauseIknowthatyouwon’treadanyof whatiswrittenabove. Butincaseyoudo,justknowthatyouwere worthallthepain,mylove.
Rhea has always loved writing. Ever since she was a child, writing has been her safe haven, a chance for her to delve deep into a world built on imagination and fantasy. Being infatuated with the art of poetry, she spends her free time writing poems around various themes, one of which being the infamous subject of identity.
I know a girl with eyes brighter than the sun. A girl with galaxies in her mind, and an imagination that runs wild
I know a girl with freckles littering her face. A girl with burning curiosity, a girl, adventure she’ll chase.
I know a girl with a glow to her skin. A girl with a dazzling smile, a girl who’d challenge every sin.
Iknowagirlwholovestowatchthestars, Namesofconstellationstumblingouther mouth,coveringupallherscars.
Iknowagirlwholikestodanceintherain, Herbodytremblingwithshivers,thecold soothingherpain.
Iknowagirlwhorunstowardsthemeadow, laughterspillingouthermouth. H
But I also know a girl with demons in her head, Demons she failed to purge, her mind hanging by a thread.
I know a girl who sits and rocks herself in the dark, Pasting a smile on her face, in her heart, the voices leaving a mark.
Rhea has always loved writing. Ever since she was a child, writing has been her safe haven, a chance for her to delve deep into a world built on imagination and fantasy. Being infatuated with the art of poetry, she spends her free time writing poems around various themes, one of which being the infamous subject of identity.
These girls are one, but the world didn’t know,
For who looks beyond the surface when the girl pretends to glow?
And yet, despite it all, in her eyes, galaxies remain,
For it’s the adventure and curiosity that tend to keep her sane.
Withagorgeoussmileetchedonherface, Herheartbeatingatasteadypace, Shedanglesherbruisedkneesoverledges, laughterescapingherlips, Movingtothemelodyofherownheartbeat, angelicallyswayingherhips. Theworldwatchesherinawe,completely mesmerizedbythisgirl, Thisgirl,brighterthanthesunandpurerthan apearl
And that’s when they knew that she is a dreamer, a fighter, a believer who waltzes with the swinging stars, Stepping out of the shadows and into the light, dancing to the melody of a dozen guitars.
Rhea has always loved writing. Ever since she was a child, writing has been her safe haven, a chance for her to delve deep into a world built on imagination and fantasy. Being infatuated with the art of poetry, she spends her free time writing poems around various themes, one of which being the infamous subject of identity.
She carefully stitches herself back together piece by piece, Because she knows nothing can break her, and this in itself gives her peace. And so they knew that she could and would endure all the hardships of the world alone, If only to appreciate that inevitable happy ending that everyone would eventually find, no matter how dark they’ve grown.
Celine occasionally enjoys writing poetry, since it allows her to express herself freely. Throughout this poem, she ties philosophical questions with her personal feelings, exhibiting the distress within everyone’s faith. Celine comments on the significance of questioning one’s beliefs to further integrate themselves within the world.
History is a web of lies, Yet the mystery of it is enticing. You let your soul fly, From the empires and the wars, to the stories and the recordings, Where shall your faith lie?
Whose words would you believe? And once someone tells you otherwise, Are you left with a fractured mind, or do you stick to your belief?
Who are we to choose what’s right and wrong? A string of knowledge cannot make up for what we cannot see.
Where is my faith?
Do I surrender to the influential words of history’s leaders, or do I listen to the suffering of those beneath? Have they truly lived, or is this all a fake?
Is history a strategy to distract us of our present, or is it to truly teach us of what’s today?
Books, stories, songs, Words of the past brought to the present,
Celine occasionally enjoys writing poetry, since it allows her to express herself freely. Throughout this poem, she ties philosophical questions with her personal feelings, exhibiting the distress within everyone’s faith. Celine comments on the significance of questioning one’s beliefs to further integrate themselves within the world.
And yet I feel like an idiot. Allowing myself to fall for the words of a stranger. Must I love anything in this world… Must my curiosity fly anywhere… or must I remain transparent, like a mirror, awaiting assumptions to mold into thin air…
The lies, the deceptions, I know of them too late
By then, I’m a mess, brought on by my own faith.
W
Is this why inspiration and hope fade away as
Class of 2023 Beirut, International College
RHEA MADHOUN
HALA HANOUN
KYNDA SALAM
LAYLA AYASS
DANIEL CHEHIMI MOUSTAFA HOTEIT
RANI ZAITOUN
CELINE NOUREDDINE SAMAYA SOUFI
SARAH KALOT
SARAH SAMAHA
TALA FLAYHAN