The Holston Journal - Spring 2021

The holsTon

Literary Journal

Volume 4 Spring 2021

Acknowledgments Funding for The Holston provided by: King University Student Government Association King University English Department

Special thanks to: Dr. Erin M. Kingsley, Associate Professor of English and Faculty Advisor of The Holston Dr. Karen Shaw, Chair, Department of English Dr. Matt Roberts, Academic Dean Chase Arndt, Director of Student Life Charis McReynolds, English Department Assistant

If you are a student, alumnus, faculty, or staff member at King University and wish to submit to next year’s edition of The Holston, please email your submission in a Word document to: theholston@king.edu.

The Holston deeply appreciates your patronage of the arts, and welcomes your tax-deductible donation. Please make checks payable to “King University” and write “The Holston” in the subject line. Mail to: Erin Kingsley ATTN: The Holston King University 1350 King College Rd. Bristol, TN 37620

© 2021, The Holston, Department of English, King University

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Editorial Staff Editors-in-Chief:

Jordan Cunningham Devan Click

Faculty Advisor:

Dr. Erin Kingsley

Editorial Board Members:

Brittany Rivera Charis McReynolds Stacey Horton

Cover Artist:

Heather Vines

Faculty Board Members:

Prof. Lori Byington Dr. Kevin DeFord Dr. Kim Holloway Dr. Logan Love Dr. Jennifer Mongold Prof. Joshua Rudd Prof. Joe Strickland Prof. Alaska Vance

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Table of Contents Faculty Spotlight ...................................................................................................................... 4 Tammy R. Hutchinson-Harosky Alumni Spotlight ...................................................................................................................... 6 Emily Morgason “Plans Before Collapse:” .......................................................................................................... 8 Alaska Reece Vance “Skye Voyage” ........................................................................................................................ 20 Stacey Horton “Winter Wonderland” ............................................................................................................ 23 Alexia Autrey “Untitled” ............................................................................................................................... 24 Gabrielle Dockery “Day Into Night” .................................................................................................................... 25 Brittanie Rose “Boat in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam” and “I Woke Up Today” .................................................... 26 Jenny Leighann Tudor “Where I Once Was” .............................................................................................................. 28 Renny Massey “No More Chaos” ................................................................................................................... 29 Hannah Harosky “Goodbye My Willow Tree”.................................................................................................... 30 Brianna Carder “The Devil Fails to Victory”.................................................................................................... 31 Faith Ayers “Courtney’s Rain Shower”...................................................................................................... 33 Courtney T. Amakonze “Psyche” ................................................................................................................................. 32 Courtney Harvey “Taking the Bus” .................................................................................................................... 42 Meglyn Deel “10 Years of Silence,” “The Nectar of Life,” and “The Fair Photo” ........................................ 43 Heather Vines “The Wild” .............................................................................................................................. 44 Betheny Keller “The Little Things” ................................................................................................................. 45 Anya Gross “The Storm” ........................................................................................................................... 46 Christina Fulcher “Bridge to Adventure,” “Mountains to Infinity,” and “Bedtime for the Forest” .................... 47 Linda LeeAnn Cottle

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Faculty Spotlight Tammy R. Hutchinson-Harosky I came to King University in August of 2013 after spending nineteen years teaching in the public schools in Tennessee and Virginia. I have never felt at home like I did the day I came to campus to interview. I vividly remember the day spent with the wonderful people of the School of Education, and I instantly knew that if I were offered the job, there would be no hesitation.

When I began teaching at King, I was only one year into my doctoral program. Because the School of Education needed someone to teach the literacy courses, and I was three hours short of having enough hours to teach the literacy courses, I returned to my alma mater, Carson-Newman University, and completed a Reading Specialist certification. At King, I teach the literacy and English as a Second Language courses that are required for initial licensure in the state of TN and for an add-on endorsement in teaching English as a Second Language (ESL).

Tammy Harosky and family

One year after coming to King, I was asked to serve on the board for the Tennessee Teachers of ESL, and I served as president of the organization from 2016-2017. One of my responsibilities as a board member was to host the 2015 TNTESOL conference. I will forever be grateful for the support and encouragement I received from my colleagues, the university, and my students. It was wonderful to see not only the School of Education faculty being a part of the conference, but seeing our students involved in the organization solidified why I agreed to serve on the board.

I believe I am not a success unless my students are successful. I am at King for the students. I believe that is my job: to ensure that my students receive the knowledge that is needed to be successful in their own future classrooms. I believe that I should be a mentor and resource for my students. I love when my students are in their own classrooms and invite me to come read to the class or to bring my current students to their school.

I am a hands-on educator. I believe that it is important to provide my students with the opportunity to see what teaching is all about before they leave Kline Hall. I work closely with local school systems to have my students complete observation hours, work closely with the ESL teacher (through practicums), and participate in intervention opportunities. My students conduct a literacy night each semester for a local elementary school. This provides the students with the opportunity to not only work with children, but to work with the parents as well.

Since coming to King, I have been instrumental in developing the ESL add-on endorsement in a completely online format, which allows us to offer the endorsement to licensed teachers throughout TN and VA. I have completed my doctoral degree (2016) in Teaching English as a Second Language. Most importantly, since coming to King, I have met colleagues and students who have forever touched my heart. The School of Education may be a small program, but we are a family. We work closely together to ensure that our students are highly qualified educators when they leave us. We encourage and support one another.

I have always said that I have the best job in the world. I get to teach what I am passionate about (ESL and literacy), work with fabulous people (who have become family), have amazing students

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(that I thank God for each day), and I get to watch soccer in the afternoons after work. In my opinion, life does not get much better than being a professor in the School of Education at King University!

What is one of your most striking King-related memories?

I have had the fortune of working with amazing people during my time at King. I am very fortunate to be able to share my passion of ESL and Education with students. The memories that are most striking are being to share my passion of ESL with my students. In the spring of 2015, I had the opportunity to host the Tennessee Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages (TNTESOL) state conference. Hosting this conference gave me the opportunity to allow my students to showcase their talent and knowledge. I have so many wonderful memories of my time here at King that it is hard to pick just a few.

What have you learned during your time at King?

My philosophy is that if my students are not successful, I am not successful. Everything I do is with the thought of will this benefit my students? I have found that having this attitude/philosophy enables me to be the instructor that my students need.

What life advice would you give to students at King?

Always be open to God’s plan for your life and your career! Seek him, let the people you encounter see him through you, and face each day as a day that you can make the world a better place.

What is one word or phrase you would use to sum up your time at King, and why?

Knowledge. During my time at King, I have completed my terminal degree (Educational Doctorate with an emphasis in English as a Second Language) and the course work for two additional endorsements (Reading Specialist and Special Education). I have learned so much from my colleagues, my students, and every opportunity that King has presented me.

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Alumni Spotlight Emily Morgason A lot has changed between now and my time at King, but the one thing that has remained constant is my love and need for travel. I can remember walking up the hill to the dining hall, lost in my thoughts about classes, responsibilities, and the future, when I saw a flyer about a study abroad trip to the Yucatan. In that moment, I remember thinking no matter what I have to do, I will go on that trip. That trip was a kick starter for me, and it solidified my passion for travel and experiencing other cultures.

Since that day, I have participated in a total of three study abroad trips with Dr. Han Ong through King.

Most recently, I was a chaperone for a trip to Malaysia and Vietnam. That trip continually took my breath away in the best ways. A moment that really stood out to me was when we were on a boat in Hạ Long Bay, which has been a place on my bucket list for as long as I can remember. I found a set of stairs that took you up to the top deck. No one had noticed it yet, so I worked my way up and found myself completely alone with the most incredible view. I stood there in complete awe and Dr. Ong’s 2019 Malaysia-Vietnam trip amazement. Those moments that make the world stand still and make us realize how lucky we are to be alive and to witness this world’s beauty is the reason I keep finding a way to travel. It’s a different experience traveling as a chaperone in some ways, but the magic is still there, and now I get to witness the spark in others when they discover their love for traveling, which truly makes my heart happy.

Today, travel is still a big focal point for me. I have taken jobs that have given me the freedom to travel or jobs that have included travel opportunities.

However, athletics is also a big passion of mine, and I have had opportunities to work with many different athletes. I am a certified athletic trainer, but I also just completed my certification in sports massage therapy. My career goal now is to work and travel with a sports team or a performing arts company. I owe the enlightenment for both my Ha Long Bay, Vietnam passions from my time spent at King University.

King gave me the chance to see parts of the world I may not have seen otherwise, and the opportunity to discover my skillset in sports medicine.

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I believe it is important for all of us to travel, and that doesn’t have to be to somewhere far away. It can be within your own state or country—just make a point to explore your surroundings and to meet people that are different from you. It makes your world so much bigger, but also beautifully small when you realize how similar we actually are.

Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

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Alaska Reece Vance teaches acting and directing at King. She enjoys hiking, writing fantasy, and creating theatre. She is passionate about writing experimental theatre and theatre for young audiences. Her published plays include The Untold Story of Rose Red, Chasing Charming, Ivan and the Birds, Little Bo Peep Who Cried Wolf, The Adventures of Bad, and I Am Angel. This script was originally envisioned as a full-length play, but after contemplation, Alaska decided it was meant to be a short piece of surrealistic theatre. She hopes you enjoy the read!

PLANS BEFORE COLLAPSE

CAST OF CHARACTERS SAVANNAH: Female. 20s WIND: Male. 20s EXODUS: Male. 20s (The stage is bare except a chimney of weathered brown bricks. There is no house, no doors, no windows. The chimney stands alone. It has seen better days. Bricks and mortar have cracked and tumbled out in places. Hooks are attached to one side of the chimney. A few clothing articles are hung on the hooks.)

(At rise SAVANNAH is sitting on the ground by the chimney scribbling on it with a broken piece of white chalk.)

SAVANNAH The tree line. One. Two. Stair-like, narrow – Three.

(WIND comes, walks into the space. He stands for a moment, unseen. At last, he speaks.)

WIND Knock knock.

SAVANNAH (Without looking away from her work) Who’s there?

WIND

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It’s me.

(SAVANNAH glances over at him.)

SAVANNAH I don’t receive strangers.

WIND Savannah, don’t you recognize me?

SAVANNAH Um… WIND We grew up together.

SAVANNAH I’m… Don’t be insulted. I have a horrible memory. You do look familiar.

WIND Wind.

SAVANNAH Oh! Wind! Yes of course, Wind. I remember you. Yes. We shared lunches – You had that tin lunchbox with the heat lightning on it.

WIND We played white lions in love at recess.

SAVANNAH I remember that. I hear you’ve – I mean – WIND It’s okay.

SAVANNAH Look, I would invite you to stay, but – WIND I don’t want to put you out.

SAVANNAH It’s just – WIND I understand.

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SAVANNAH How did you find me? I mean after all this time?

WIND That doesn’t matter. I just came to bring you something.

SAVANNAH You did?

WIND Balloons.

SAVANNAH Really? I couldn’t accept – WIND Please. It would mean a lot to me.

(He holds out his hand. He is clutching an invisible balloon bouquet.)

SAVANNAH Where are they?

WIND Here. (Presenting the unseen balloons) SAVANNAH I don’t see anything.

WIND Well. They’re invisible to most. I thought maybe you would – SAVANNAH Look, I don’t want to sound rude, but… but I think it’s better that you go.

WIND Just take them. Please.

SAVANNAH I– WIND If you could only see them! Such colors! Yellow, blue as deep as a wolf’s tears – SAVANNAH Wind –

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WIND Green like the old days – SAVANNAH Okay. Fine, I’ll be happy to take them.

(SAVANNAH reaches out and “takes” the invisible balloon bouquet from WIND.) SAVANNAH Thank you.

WIND Thank you. For accepting. I’m so glad.

SAVANNAH Now you should go. You have to go.

(WIND nods and goes to leave but turns back to her.)

WIND Savannah. I’ve missed you.

SAVANNAH Goodbye.

(WIND exits) SAVANNAH Dammit. (She releases the invisible balloon bouquet and goes back to her chalk. She tries to draw but can’t. She throws the chalk.) Dammit. Balloons? Why did he have to come here?

Balloons. If only… Balloons. Floating… brilliant colors…

(SAVANNAH picks up the chalk and begins to draw again. This time she draws balloons.)

(EXODUS enters with a shovel hidden under a jacket.)

(SAVANNAH flinches and tries to hide what she’s been drawing.)

SAVANNAH Exodus! Hi. Any luck?

EXODUS What’s this?

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SAVANNAH Nothing. I was just, working out plans…

EXODUS Good. Can I see?

SAVANNAH No. I mean, I’m not finished.

EXODUS What is that?

SAVANNAH It’s – EXODUS Balloons? It looks like balloons.

SAVANNAH I was just – EXODUS You’re drawing balloons. I thought you were working on plans.

SAVANNAH I was. I got distracted…

EXODUS I knew it.

(EXODUS hangs up the jacket on a hook and leans the shovel against the chimney.)

SAVANNAH Exodus – EXODUS This doesn’t mean anything to you. You’re playing me.

SAVANNAH No – EXODUS

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I knew you didn’t care. I always suspected you didn’t. You say you’re going to help, that you’ll help me, but you – You would be delighted if we stayed here forever, wouldn’t you?

SAVANNAH I wouldn’t!

EXODUS You told me you wanted out.

SAVANNAH It wasn’t my fault.

EXODUS What do you mean?

SAVANNAH Nothing.

EXODUS What do you mean it wasn’t your fault?

(SAVANNAH is silent.)

EXODUS Talk! Honesty, remember? You promised honesty between us.

SAVANNAH I was distracted because… A visitor came.

EXODUS (Alarmed) A visitor?

SAVANNAH Yes. EXODUS A stranger?

SAVANNAH Yes, no. It was Wind.

EXODUS Who? SAVANNAH

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Do you remember that kid, played with me growing up – EXODUS Wait, Wind… Wind? Is that the one who – SAVANNAH Yeah – EXODUS No-no-no! What was he doing here? You didn’t speak to him, did you?

SAVANNAH I didn’t!

EXODUS Good. Tests show it can – it’s like a virus – SAVANNAH It’s not contagious.

EXODUS I don’t know. You don’t know what he’s capable of.

SAVANNAH Well, I didn’t speak to him, I made him leave, so you can calm down and – EXODUS Why draw balloons?

SAVANNAH He brought them.

EXODUS What?

SAVANNAH I mean, he didn’t bring actual balloons. He brought a bouquet of invisible balloons. They’re floating there.

(SAVANNAH points up to the sky and EXODUS looks.)

EXODUS Off his rocker.

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Yeah. Poor guy. I guess I… I really should get back to work.

(SAVANNAH finds her chalk and begins to scratch out the balloon drawings while EXODUS contemplates.)

EXODUS Balloons… Yes! SAVANNAH What?

EXODUS I know how to get us out of here!

SAVANNAH Good luck finding real balloons. Invisible ones probably won’t do much.

EXODUS No, not… the balloons just gave me the idea. Floating.

SAVANNAH Floating.

(EXODUS nods.)

SAVANNAH (cont’d) That’s your idea? Floating?

EXODUS Floating, flying.

SAVANNAH Flying?

EXODUS We’ve run out of options. We’re stuck in this canyon unless – SAVANNAH They’ll open the tunnel soon.

EXODUS Who? No one wants it anymore, Savannah. Everyone’s given up. I’m digging alone half the time. And with all the collapses we’ve had – SAVANNAH

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Then I’ll figure out a way to climb it. Be patient. I’m getting somewhere with these plans – EXODUS If we’re caught – SAVANNAH I told you, I’ll plan a way where they won’t see us.

EXODUS If there’s an avalanche – SAVANNAH There’s not going to be an avalanche. The watchmen have done this to you… You’re so paranoid of avalanches it’s sick.

EXODUS Maybe.

SAVANNAH We’ll climb out.

EXODUS Maybe. If we could disable the searchlights, we could go at night.

SAVANNAH They’ll suspect climbers if the searchlights go out.

EXODUS You’re thinking of a day climb?

SAVANNAH I don’t know, I’m still thinking. Were you able to find the watch list?

EXODUS Yeah.

(EXODUS pulls a list out of his pocket but does not hand it over.)

SAVANNAH Let me see.

(EXODUS hesitates.)

SAVANNAH I won’t leave you.

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EXODUS You’re committed?

SAVANNAH Exodus – EXODUS Swear.

SAVANNAH I told you, I’m with you. Hand it over.

(EXODUS slowly hands over the list.)

SAVANNAH (Looking at the list) If we can bribe one of them – EXODUS There’s no law against floating.

SAVANNAH What?

EXODUS There’s no law against it.

SAVANNAH Of course there isn’t. That’s because nobody would be stupid enough to try.

EXODUS I might. Be stupid enough.

SAVANNAH Stop it. Now which one of these men will cave…

(Pause) EXODUS No. SAVANNAH What?

EXODUS I’m going to fly, Savannah.

SAVANNAH

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You can’t be – EXODUS I am.

SAVANNAH No! EXODUS Are you still with me?

(SAVANNAH doesn’t answer.)

EXODUS (cont’d) I need to fly. Choose.

SAVANNAH Don’t make me choose.

EXODUS If you want me, you’ve got to be with me.

SAVANNAH Dammit. What about compromise? Is there no compromise?

EXODUS Choose.

SAVANNAH You’re an idiot.

EXODUS Choose.

SAVANNAH Fine. I choose… What an idiot. Fine. I’m with you.

(EXODUS grabs her and kisses her.)

EXODUS I knew you’d be. I love you. (He goes to leave.)

SAVANNAH Where are you going?

EXODUS Lots to be done if we’re going to fly.

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SAVANNAH What should I do?

EXODUS What do you think? Use your chalk. Plan. (Exits) (SAVANNAH stands helpless. She kicks at the chimney.)

SAVANNAH This is not going to… never going – We’re going to be caught and then – No! I won’t do it, Exodus. I’m not going to let you… We can’t… I can’t – (Pause. She looks up at the invisible balloon bouquet.) It’s all your fault. I hate balloons. (She picks up the chalk and begins to draw again.) Fine. Plans.

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An English major in her senior year at King, Stacey Horton can usually be found reading a mystery book. Stacey’s short stories have been featured both on The Write Practice and on Reedsy. When not throwing characters from hot air balloons, she is probably drinking coffee and planning her first mystery novel. Stacey lives in Abingdon, VA, with her family and three dogs.

SKYE VOYAGE Scotland, April 1893 The hot air balloon approached the Isle of Skye, carrying its pilot and two passengers.

Sophie pushed back a bright red curl, adjusting her goggle strap. She increased the heat inside the balloon, the weight of her Tesla guns against her legs reassuring as they floated above Talisker Bay. The creatures would come into view any minute. She knew she brought her passengers to see them, but it never made it any less nerve-wracking to know that a paying customer could be decapitated any time.

She glanced to her passengers. Doctors from England, she thought. Not the medicine kind. More librarians than doctors. She never liked having the English aboard, but they paid full price. Wesley Fairbank—a young fellow with blonde hair askew—stood with hunched, expensive tweed-covered shoulders as he copiously explained the intricacies of his invention. She only caught glimpses of the small-geared device, a round lens catching an elusive sunray.

“You see, it’s quite simple, Julian.” Wesley adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose.

“I can’t believe you’ve made a camera this small,” Julian replied. Julian Garcia proved to be patient with his friend, his Spanish features belying his English accent.

Wesley hid a smile. “Oh, hold on.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling a grainy, grey paper out. “Instant photo,” he shouted as the wind picked up, holding onto his hat.

Julian laughed. “Doesn’t look like any photograph I’ve seen!”

Sophie lost interest. Her passengers were often scientists or pseudo-adventurers, anticipating thrills. Seeing it as the family business she would take over one day, the tours lost their glitter soon after her thirteenth birthday. She pulled a face when the conversation behind her took a turn.

“No! This isn’t about the money, Julian!” Wesley yelled, his face and neck growing red, while Julian’s appearance grew stony. “And it never was.”

“Think about the funding that we could have for our laboratories. This would set me up for years if we go to the investors,” Julian argued.

“Investors? I told you that I am not—” “Not all of us were born with a title!” Julian stepped closer to Wesley. “With that design in—” he reached into Wesley’s pocket, retrieving a small, leather book filled with wrinkled scraps of paper sticking out “—this book! The camera is only the beginning!”

“You sound just like my father. I’m not about to limit access to something that could potentially change society as we know it!” Wesley glanced at Sophie’s back. “Look, can’t we talk about this later?” He offered a meager smile. “I won’t have you ruin my birthday trip. All right?”

In the horizon, a large silver airship came into view. Before Sophie could identify it, a high-pitched screech sounded, unrecognized to the novice passengers against the wind and ocean. Sophie whirled around, her eyes searching. Her fingers dove into her vest, clamoring for her retractable telescope. Looking through the lens, she saw wings and a pointed head swim into view. The direction of the wind changed. Sophie stumbled back a step. Planting her feet, she looked again. A second silhouette appeared. Another sharp cry pierced the air louder and closer.

She lifted the scope, a thought flashing through her mind…

Maggie…

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“Gentlemen!” she shouted, her Scottish brogue carrying. “I believe you’ll want ta’ see this!” She stepped out of the way when Wesley crowded her. Julian tipped his hat in apology.

Julian handed Wesley binoculars, and he held them to his goggle lenses while thrusting out his arm, blindly grabbing Julian.

“Look!” Wesley grinned. “Dinosaurs! Flying ones!”

Julian took the binoculars. “They are real,” he murmured. His eyes darted to the side where the airship fast approached.

“This is absolutely brilliant!” Wesley said, holding his camera, snapping photographs with the bulb flashing. “Ms. McLeery?” he queried, holding the camera to his chest. “I’ve forgotten my guide on the ground. Do you recall the name?”

She obliged amicably. “Who? Aye, y’mean Maggie,” Wesley’s brow furrowed. “Maggie? That’s ridiculous for a predator like that.”

“Oh, tha’s just cos you don’t know her like I do. She’s a bit ridiculous as a dinosaur,” she answered. “Pterodactyls is th’fancy name for her kind.” She pointed to the grassy plateaus below. “You keep watch… y’might see the pack of stegosaurus grazin’.”

“You didn’t name them as well, did you?” Julian asked.

She shook her head. “Don’t have enough time ta’ get properly introduced from here. Y’ pardon me if I don’t start now.”

Julian smirked. “Not at all.”

She blinked, considering, before turning away, a peculiar intuition twisting her stomach.

His eyes… she thought.

She leaned against the basket while Maggie circled the balloon. Wesley ducked when the creature came too close to his camera for comfort. Sophie whistled loudly, pulling one of the Tesla guns. “Too close, lass!” she shouted, aiming above Maggie’s wing and firing. A sudden crackle of electricity charged the air, a targeted bolt flashing. Maggie screeched, her wings flapping wildly, scrambling to escape.

Wesley sat in the basket’s corner, clutching his camera, panting. He held his head for a short moment. He asked, staring at her strangely, “You enjoy your work, don’t you?”

She holstered the gun. “It has its moments. I can’t let her take off with you. Y’have m’ paycheck.”

Julian helped Wesley stand while Sophie injected more heat into the balloon. Wide-eyed, Wesley gestured to Julian. “She is mad,” he said, chuckling. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Julian patted Wesley’s shoulder. “Are you certain I can’t talk you into parting with those designs?”

“Are we still on about this?” Wesley asked with an exasperated smile. “The answer hasn’t changed from five minutes ago. You know how I feel about this.” He stepped to the other side of the basket.

Julian sighed. “I thought you would say that.”

Sophie turned just as Julian backhanded her, sending her to her knees with spots in her vision. Julian swept down, grabbing Sophie’s guns. Wesley whirled around.

“Julian!” Wesley shouted. “What on Earth—” He moved toward Sophie. Wesley froze, his eyes fixing on the weapon. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You’ll kill us all with that thing!”

Sophie’s hand inched toward the other weapon on her leg. Julian looked away from Wesley, holding his gun steadily, saying, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, miss. I have no qualms about pulling this trigger. Whether I hit you or him makes little difference to me.” His eyes went back to Wesley. “You couldn’t make this easy and just be selfish for once, could you?”

He made a motion with the gun. “Give me the designs. Now.” Sophie reached to her mouth, feeling blood on her lip, her temper flaring dangerously.

She surged forward, her fingers clamping around his wrist, trying to wrench away the weapon.

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Julian fell back against the basket’s side. Sophie slammed his fingers against a metal hook, and he released the gun with a pained grunt. Fending off Julian, Sophie ordered Wesley, “Get th’ gun, you brainless idiot!”

“Oh, right,” he said pitifully, dropping to his knees, diving for the piece, his fingers narrowly avoiding being crushed under Sophie’s boot heel. Picking it up by the handle with his thumb and forefinger, he pushed himself back. The gun slipped through his grip, and he desperately tried to catch it. Accidentally grabbing the trigger, he shot a hole through the basket’s side. Sophie’s head jerked to the side, surprised. The momentary slack in attack allowed Julian one clean blow to Sophie’s jaw, sending her tumbling. Her leg caught in one of the ropes and she careened over the side, her knee catching the basket’s edge. The rope around her ankle tightened, suspending her above the ocean. Julian saw the knife in Sophie’s toolbox as Wesley cried, “Ms. McLeery!” He looked over the side, seeing her, before turning his gaze to Julian.

Julian grabbed the knife, holding the blade to the rope which kept Sophie from plummeting to the waves.

“Pull me back in, you—!!” Sophie yelled.

“You pull the trigger, and I’ll cut the rope,” Julian warned. “I’ll do it, Wesley. You know I will.” He sliced one of the strands, the tightly wound material breaking apart, proving his warning.

“Wait!” Wesley held up his hands. “Stop! Look.” He dropped the gun. He looked at his friend, searchingly. “Why are you doing this?”

Julian shook his head, stretching out his empty hand. “Give me the designs. Now.” Without breaking his stare, Wesley fumbled for the item inside his coat pocket, grabbing it between his fingers. “This isn’t worth a life. Pull her up.”

“Give me the book.”

Wesley tossed the notes. Julian caught it against his chest. “Alright, you have it. Now, pull her back in.”

Julian looked down with a mild smile—a peculiar ambition gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Sorry, old friend.”

He cut the rope.

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Alexia Autrey is a junior at King. She enjoys the outdoors and photography, competes with the women’s swim team, and serves on the National Student Athlete Advisory Committee (SAAC).

She is majoring in Business Marketing and Management with a minor in English. Her inspiration for this piece was a beautiful snowy day.

WINTER WONDERLAND

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Gabrielle Dockery is a Theatre major at King. Her dream is to become a movie director for Disney in the future. This piece opened her eyes to the world around her, letting her know life is still going on no matter what is pulling her down. Her goal in life is to help those around her and see the light in everything. This image did that for her.

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Brittanie Rose is a recent Theatre graduate of King. Her piece “Day into Night” is the first publication of her photography. Brittanie hopes this piece will reflect to others the simplicity and beauty the world offers as the sun sets each night. Brittanie is very excited to be published in The Holston and cannot wait to share the beauty of her pieces with everyone!

DAY INTO NIGHT

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Jenny Leighann Tudor is a recent King English graduate with a French and Theatre minor.

Intrigued by the world around her, Jenny writes an abundance of stories and poetry that reflect the beauty and mystery of the life she witnesses. Jenny hopes to someday publish a full book series and pave the way for other writers to do the same. She would like to thank her professors, classmates, parents, husband, and the Divine Creator for their support and encouragement.

Without them, she could not have made it this far.

BOAT IN HA LONG BAY, VIETNAM

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I WOKE UP TODAY I woke up today.

But not in your house Like I used to every summer.

I didn’t go to the kitchen And taste your cooking That could never compare to mine.

I didn’t get to say “mornin’” Or hug you just because.

And even though I’m sitting here In my own place now, I’m transported back to your house, Your home, within your love.

Everything reminds me of you.

And as much as I wished it didn’t, I’m also glad it does.

You were beautiful, Mamaw, And I see that beauty everywhere, Reflecting back a part of your soul.

I’m mad at the world for taking you Before I got to say goodbye.

I’m mad that I don’t get to tell you That I love you and hear you say it back.

I’m mad that the world still goes on While your body lies still in the ground.

But more than anything, I’m mad that I didn’t call you more.

And I’m mad at myself for not being there, For not holding your hand.

I’m mad because I could have done better.

And I don’t have you here to be disappointed in me.

I’ve failed so much and quit so many times I just wonder if you still believe in me.

Before you passed, You told me I was your bright and shiny star, But right now, I don’t feel like one.

I’m dull and broken, and I’m not a star.

Today, I woke up.

But not in your house.

Not in your presence.

And not as your shiny star.

Today, I just woke up.

And maybe that’s okay for now.

The Holston Renny Massey has been writing music for five years and has occasionally turned to writing poetry to inspire his music. He wrote “Where I Once Was” on top of Backbone Rock in Damascus, VA during his first semester at King as a freshman. He was there to get away from the new, overwhelming college life for a few hours, and he wrote this piece to put his coping process into words.

WHERE I ONCE WAS There are rivers and streams flowing below me.

It feels like I won’t drown anymore from way up here.

There’s a cool breeze blowing over my body, as I sit here, on the edge.

The feeling of the mosquitoes landing on my skin— It’s much less bothersome than it would usually be, because my skin isn’t mine right now.

It belongs to someone else, who I watch from the other side of the guardrail.

I empathize with him and tell him, “Everything is going to be okay.”

His skin is mine again, and I brush the mosquitoes off of it.

His legs are mine again, and I use them to climb back over the rail.

His feet are mine again, and I use them to walk down the rocky staircase.

His lungs are mine again, and I use them to capture the cool night breeze.

His hands are mine again, and I use them to put the key into the ignition.

His eyes are mine again, and I use them to look back up at the place I once was.

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Hannah Harosky is a sophomore from Bristol, VA majoring in Criminal Justice and Political Science with a minor in Security and Intelligence. She is also a member of the women’s soccer team. Hannah wrote this piece for her Foundations of Christian Thought and Practice class.

Hannah says, “This piece inspired me because chaos is a part of life and we do not always have all the answers, yet we must rely on our faith and trust that God’s timing is always better than our own. Through chaos, we are able to grow in ways we never dreamed of, and we start to grow deeper in our faith and in our relationship with God.”

NO MORE CHAOS While there was chaos, Adam and Eve sinned, Yet, there was someone greater Who’s known as Christ, who defeated death at the grave.

He spoke “peace, be still” to the chaos—and there is no more chaos.

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Brianna Carder is a graduate of King’s Digital Media and Design (DMAD) program. She recently lost one of her best friends, her grandmother, who was a joy to be around. Brianna’s love for poetry and writing, and the grief that comes with death, allowed her to write this poem.

GOODBYE MY WILLOW TREE Under the weeping willow tree, She stands there waiting for me, Singing softly of the life she once had.

Her breeze cascades over me, with a joy she once gave to me; And her vision of heaven fills the blue skies above me.

Her sweet voice filling my ears, Telling me the stories we once shared And the laughs we once had.

She is gone, my weeping willow tree, Her voice filling the air around me, And her colors radiant like Appalachia’s fall leaves.

She still sings softly to me, And her smile is all I have To remind me of the days that are gone And a life I once had.

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Faith Ayers is a sophomore at King, majoring in Exercise Science. Faith’s inspiration for this piece was the pain in today’s society. When she saw the constant hatred radiating from the news and others around her, it made her realize that Christians, and other members of society, usually wait for good to come without striving for it. “The Savior” (God) constantly shows us ways to retaliate the pain and hatred, but we continuously fail him in proceeding to make more evil than good. Faith believes this piece is an extraordinary way to represent the world we live in today.

THE DEVIL FAILS TO VICTORY In the midst of the world, we softly speak, Yet no one seems to hear the screams.

Wanderers wait for the Savior’s sign, Constantly wondering when it’s time.

The Holston Courtney T. Amakonze is a student at King majoring in Social Work. She also works as a preschool teacher in Lincolnton, NC. What inspired Courtney most in writing this piece of poetry was a recipe for healing from an experience of domestic violence that she endured for over 15 years of her life.

COURTNEY’S RAIN SHOWER A rain shower displays the reality of things Life can be good or bad by all means Shackles that have been established and broken off my hands and feet Pour as a great disaster down to a drizzling type beat Trauma of physical and emotional abuse, dealing with so much pain Setbacks, divorce, a feeling of nothing to gain But when I fell to my face, and called on God’s holy name A change surely had to come to wash away such pain Fifteen years of torment, hurt, and shame Only one to support me, and that is God’s holy and divine name Praying, fasting, writing, crying, secret place to meditate Strength begins to take hold, Oh! God is never late Being in a place of perfect peace God has always been there, and never left me.

Kindness with joy that is filled with love Only to be created by the heavens above.

Walking by faith, and not by sight Believing in God that I will be protected and guided by his light My faith grew, the chains were lifted Because I realized that my Good Life … had never ended.

God replaced my pain with love, peace, and a new beginning of joy, Gave me closure and opened a new door.

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Courtney Harvey is a recent graduate of King with a double major in English/Writing and Psychology. Her inspiration for “Psyche” came from the major arcana of the tarot, as it relates a complete journey of the psyche. In the future, she hopes to continue to use the tarot model to write a collection of short stories.

PSYCHE The Fool “It’s time for me to leave.”

Esther’s mother pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows at her daughter. She scanned Esther up and down, noting the overstuffed backpack over her shoulders, the small luggage she clutched with her right hand, and the tote bag over her left shoulder that she held in place. She sighed and shook her head.

“You naïve little girl. You’re not ready for what’s out there; you aren’t capable without your father, me, and the rest of your family. We’re all you have.”

“You may be all I have now,” Esther squeezed her things tighter, her palms sweaty as her fingernails dug into them, “but I can’t live here anymore.”

“You’re delusional, girl.” Esther could almost taste the bitterness in her mother’s words as if they were her own. “And as soon as you walk out that door, you’re not my daughter.”

Esther clung to her belongings and walked to the door, her concentration preoccupied with keeping her breath steady and her face expressionless—she couldn’t let the fear in her every movement be anything more than subtle. She opened the door with her left hand and stepped out into the sunlight, turning back to look inside. She stuck her hand in her pocket and produced a key from it, tossing it on the floor. The sound of it colliding against the hardwood floor rang in Esther’s ears.

“I’ll find a new mother.”

Esther only momentarily saw her mother’s face twist further into anger, for she closed the door, clutched her small suitcase to her chest, then ran.

The Magician Esther wasn’t sure how far she ran before she stopped, but she was sure that she was exhausted and had no idea where to go. Her throat was dry, and she felt sticky with sweat. She took long, deep breaths as she racked her brain in an attempt to remember where they told her to meet them.

Oh, God, what if I’ve gone too far? I don’t know how to get anywhere.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath, allowing herself to relax as she exhaled.

I’ll find them. Even if I have to wander all across this city, I will find them.

So, she wandered. She started farther down the road, taking in all the things around her.

For the first time, she felt as though she had a choice; she could do or be anything she wanted.

She was no longer held back by the ideology she was born into. She was free.

The High Priestess Esther stopped to rest at a bench. She sat down and allowed herself to relax, setting her tote bag and luggage on the ground beside her. She watched the cars and people pass by, wondering what their lives may be like and where they were going.

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It feels like I’m in a completely new world. The word stranger never really meant much to me before, but now… Now I can really see what it means. Her speculations were interrupted by a fleeting invasive thought: What if they find me?

Esther felt her throat closing up and tears rushing to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, her eyelids acting as a dam to prevent the oncoming flood. Esther took a moment to focus on her breathing before opening her eyes again, a new sense of calmness washing over her.

The Empress “Esther, sweetie, there you are.”

Esther was caught off guard by the voice, and she jumped ever so slightly as she turned to it, finding that it belonged to Mrs. Carrington. Relief washed over her, and she knew then that she had at least escaped for the day.

Though tomorrow may not end the same way.

“Mrs. Carrington.” Esther tucked the thought away, standing up. “I got a little lost.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem at all, sweetie.” Mrs. Carrington placed a comforting hand on Esther’s shoulder as she bent down to pick up one of Esther’s bags. “Come along, now—Ken’s waiting in the car.”

As the older woman pulled the tote bag over her shoulder, Esther readjusted her backpack and lifted her luggage with ease. Though she had not known the woman long—she’d only interacted with her one or two times—Esther was certain that she liked her, and, even more importantly, she was certain she could trust her. There was something about the energy that radiated from Mrs. Carrington that made anyone around her feel safe and cared for, almost as if she were a mother to everyone. Esther silently hoped that this radiance would last; she didn’t know what she would do if it were to fade.

The Emperor Mr. Carrington stood beside his open car door, holding onto it to keep himself steady, but he didn’t hesitate to assist as soon as he saw his wife coming. He popped open the trunk and took the tote bag from her, sticking it in the trunk. He did the same when Esther approached, stowing away both her suitcase and her backpack.

“We were glad you called us,” he said when they had all settled into the car.

Esther wasn’t quite sure what to say—part of her wasn’t sure all of this was real yet—so she responded with a smile and a polite “thank you.”

Esther could immediately tell that she was safe around this man. Not only did she trust him simply for his relation to Mrs. Carrington, but she could also see just how careful he was.

She could see that as he drove, staying attentive and focused, and she could tell that the two of them had not struggled financially. The interior of the car was spotless, as was the exterior. If she had to guess, Esther would’ve thought that the car had been purchased just the day before.

When they pulled into the driveway, Esther could see that their home was similarly impeccable.

If this is the foundation I am to build upon, I am beyond happy.

A strong sense of security and stability radiated from Mr. Carrington. Esther supposed that it went quite well with Mrs. Carrington’s air of kindness and compassion.

The Hierophant “Remember, Esther, we’re here to help you.” Mrs. Carrington’s voice soothed her, yet Esther still felt jittery nonetheless. She tried to calm the shaking of her legs, but she found that

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she had next to no control over them at the moment. She hoped if she needed to hit the brakes, she would find the strength, but there was nothing else she could make them do.

“You’re doing really well. Just try to breathe,” Mr. Carrington said from the backseat, and Esther did as he said, drawing in her breath slowly before letting it all flow back out. It helped a little, but not as much as she would have liked it to.

“Alright, turn here and try to go back around to where we started,” Mrs. Carrington said, placing a gentle hand on Esther’s shoulder.

Esther followed Mrs. Carrington’s instructions, turning the wheel to the right, her arms stiff as she did so. She could hear Mr. Carrington murmuring, “Relax, relax,” in the backseat, and his steady voice did help to calm Esther’s nerves. Esther brought the car all the way around the curve, going back to her starting place, then, firmly pressing her foot to the brake, stopped.

Mr. and Mrs. Carrington both unbuckled and got out of the car. After taking a few breaths, Esther got out as well, taking a look around the abandoned parking lot.

“Great job, Esther. This was a good start. We’ll come back here tomorrow to work more on your driving,” Mrs. Carrington encouraged, a smile resting on her face.

It’ll get easier, Esther thought, smiling back at Mrs. Carrington. It’ll get better.

The Lovers A knock sounded at Esther’s door while she studied, and she found Mrs. Carrington behind it.

“Aaron is here,” Mrs. Carrington smiled, nodding to Esther before she turned back to the kitchen. Esther knew there was no pressure for her to follow—Mr. and Mrs. Carrington both understood how busy she was—but she felt compelled to do so anyway. Her work would be there when she got back.

Aaron stood in the kitchen holding his bags and looking around the room. Esther thought she could see a glimmer of fright in his eyes.

“Aaron, this is Esther. She’s been a guest with us for the past month and a half.” Mrs. Carrington gestured at Esther as she spoke.

“Hi, Aaron,” Esther greeted with a small wave.

“Hi.” Aaron’s voice came out as little more than a breath.

“Allow me to take these to your room,” Mr. Carrington said, taking Aaron’s bags from him. For a moment, Aaron looked as though he would refuse the offer, but he relaxed, instead following Mr. Carrington with his eyes.

“Please, take a seat,” Mrs. Carrington insisted, gesturing at a chair as she sat down herself. Esther followed suit as well. Aaron did as Mrs. Carrington said, sitting at the exact seat she had pointed out.

“Mr. and Mrs. Carrington are wonderful, and I can tell you from first-hand experience that they will do everything they can to help you,” Esther said, hoping her words would comfort Aaron in some way. For a moment, she thought she could see that spark of hope in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, a smile crossing his face.

The Chariot The surface of it was shinier than Esther anticipated. The whiteness when the light hit it, the way the watermark glimmered on the surface—she couldn’t have pictured it before she held it in her hand.

“Congratulations, Esther,” Mrs. Carrington said, pulling Esther in for a hug.

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“Thank you,” Esther responded. “I never could have done it without you.” Esther’s eyes found Mr. Carrington’s smiling face, and she returned it with a smile of her own.

“You worked really hard,” Mr. Carrington said. “You earned this.”

“I still remember the first driving lesson we were giving you,” Mrs. Carrington pulled back from the hug, leaving her hands on Esther’s shoulders. “You were so nervous—look how far you’ve come! You now have the freedom of the open road!”

Esther could only smile in response. Her mind was still stuck on the realness of it, the reality of the triumph. At twenty-three years old, she never thought she would’ve been able to master driving, especially with the heavy aversion her parents had against her acquiring the skill. All according to what they preached was right or wrong for a young lady— Justice “Does this mean you’ll be leaving us now?” Aaron stood in the doorway of Esther’s room, and she jumped when he spoke, turning to face him.

“What?” Esther asked.

“You can drive now. Are you going to leave? Accept that ‘freedom of the open road’?”

Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the floor as he leaned against the doorjamb, his hands stuffed neatly in his pockets.

Esther had not quite considered the possibility. Somehow, she always imagined herself as stagnant—stuck wherever her caregivers placed her. Even with new freedoms thrust upon her, she never truly felt that freedom in her mind. She could go. She truly had the ability to leave whenever she wished, now that she had her driver’s license. She could pick up a job, save some money, buy a car of her very own, and get the hell out. She could go anywhere in the country, get an apartment, find a new job, and start life all over again. She could do anything she wanted, be anyone she wanted, and she could live a life her family never would’ve given her.

Yet, she still felt as though she couldn’t, as though she were stuck where she stood, unable to truly make decisions for herself. She may have escaped physically, but she knew that her family and her old community still had a tight grip on her, and they weren’t slackening anytime soon.

“No,” Esther said, her voice soft. “No, I won’t be leaving.”

The Hermit Esther lay in her bed, eyes wide open, but seeing little in the darkness of her room. Tiny rays of light trickled in through the cracks of her curtains, illuminating the room just enough for Esther to see the contours of the furniture and the few decorations scattered about. Her body felt fatigued, her eyelids heavy, yet her mind ran amok, preventing her from relaxing.

Esther sat up in her bed, leaning against the headboard and looking around. Her eyes scanned over all the dark shapes, falling upon the bookshelf. She tried to count the books she could see… one, two, three… seven, eight, nine… fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… more books than she’d ever seen in her life. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had seen more books than that, but they were all the same. Behind her eyes she could see it clearly: the room filled with people, all holding up their Bibles, marking away at the passages they were told were important, jotting down every word their leader spoke, internalizing every last breath.

Esther stood up, and she walked over to the bookshelf. For a moment—a trick of the light? a trick of the mind?—the books all appeared to be those Bibles of her memory, but the illusion faded away with a blink. Esther looked closer at the spines, seeing just how much each book varied from the ones beside it. Even in the subtle moonlight, she could see how distinct the

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colors on the covers were. She touched the spines, dragging her finger down the row of books just to see how they felt.

Esther pulled one book from the rows, examining its cover. The vibrant purples, blues, and reds caught her attention, and she stroked the cover before fanning through the pages. She discovered on the back the summary, squinting in the low light to read it.

Esther crawled back into bed, the book clutched in her hands. She turned on the lamp on her bedside table, and she opened to the first page.

Wheel of Fortune Esther liked the way sunlight hit the pages of a book more than how man-made light did.

Esther closed her book, taking a moment to reflect on its ending as she looked once more at the cover. Gathering her thoughts, she leaned over to the table, setting the book down and replacing it with the next.

“You’re really getting through those books.” Esther looked up to see Aaron standing by her. For a moment, he appeared hesitant before he sat down in the seat beside her.

“I suppose that’s true,” Esther responded with a smile. She did now hold in her hands what would soon be her seventh book read in just two weeks.

“I get the feeling you were never allowed to read much,” Aaron said.

“Just the Bible.”

“I was exposed to a little more than that, but not much more. Just stuff meant to instill the fear of God in me.”

Esther looked down at the book she held, then over to the one she’d just finished. If my mother saw that I’d even touched these, she’d want to wash my hands with bleach. And who knows what He would want to do.

“You never talk much about your past.” Aaron cut in on Esther’s thoughts.

Esther looked up at him, her eyes lingering for a moment. “I suppose I don’t.”

“Do you want to?”

“I…” Esther trailed off, receding into her mind as a conglomeration of experiences rose to the surface, all fighting for dominance. Esther forced her way through the crowd of thoughts, returning to the moment. “I was the third of seven siblings.”

Aaron nodded in Esther’s pause. “I was second of five.”

“The eldest was a sister, then a brother. Under me were two boys and two girls. I think my mother was in the early stages of another pregnancy when I left.”

“Have you been able to talk to any of them since then?”

Esther paused, thinking back through the past year. “No.” “Do you want to?”

“No.” Aaron remained silent, and Esther could tell he wanted to ask why.

“They all think they’re doing God’s work.” Esther pulled back, fixing her eyes on the ground. “They think that shunning me for leaving is the right thing to do. My sisters think that letting themselves be used is what God wants for them. My brothers practically live in a paradise on Earth. My parents… my parents don’t really care what happens to us. They think what those men do to my sisters is what God wants; they think what my brothers do to other girls is what God wants. They think that anything He says is right… But He isn’t God.” Aaron pulled Esther into a hug, and she suddenly noticed the wetness falling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Aaron whispered as he held her.

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Strength Esther released her breath, feeling her muscles relax as she did so.

“Just allow yourself to relax,” the instructor’s voice slid over her, just noticeable enough for her to obey. “Do not let your emotions control you or your body.”

Esther could feel the areas of tension in her body—she could feel the areas of tension in her mind.

“You are in control of how you feel and how you let other people’s actions affect you.”

Esther tried to soften the edges of her mind, but no matter how much she tried to ease it, the sharper it became.

“Your mind is your temple.”

The darkness of her past assaulted the purity of this moment.

“And you can decorate it however your please.”

Esther breathed in golden light, flooding her mind with purity to flush out the ruin.

“You are in control.”

The darkness was banished.

“You are the master of your emotions.”

The Hanged Man “How was meditation for you?” Aaron’s question was innocent, but Esther could feel his concern.

“It went well,” Esther responded, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“Alright,” he said, looking down. “I, uh… I was a little late, and you just looked a little tense, is all. Looked like you had a lot to process. Let go of, maybe.”

Esther was silent for a moment. That darkness. She looked up at Aaron as the thought crossed her mind, and he appeared to understand without her explaining.

“I think there is something I need to let go of.” Esther stood up, looking straight toward the door. “I have to go.” Esther went inside, straight upstairs to her room. She shut the door and felt her way over to her desk to flick on the lamp. She grabbed the first notebook her eyes found, also grabbing the pen off her desk. She stood there for a moment, staring at the notebook in her hands, seemingly unable to move. A few deep breaths coursed through her. She looked over at her bed, then walked hesitantly to it, sitting down. She ran a hand through her hair, tossing it out of her face, her eyes fixed on the notebook. Esther crossed her legs and set the notebook on her lap; she allowed her fingers to dance across the cover and feel the edges. She didn’t notice how her breath sped up as she pulled open the cover, revealing the clean, lined page.

The pen clicked.

The day after my fifth birthday was the first time I was raped. He told my parents that the children needed to join in for the festivities, and my parents—along with all the other parents of the cult— Esther’s breath catches up to her. The word—the word that her family has cast off and disregarded—she finally said it.

Death There’s some sort of freedom in allowing the word “cult” to roll off her tongue, as if by finally saying the word aloud, Esther can fully understand her former circumstances enough to comprehend her experiences and move past them. The power that comes with her newfound

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ability to label it as a cult, her family as members of a cult, herself as a former cult member—that power grasps ahold of her mind and slowly chips away at the blockage within her—she is free of her former mindset, of the walls surrounding her heart, of the lock that kept her shut tight.

She can change.

Temperance Esther is careful not to use the word “cult” around Aaron—he’s not ready for that yet. But around Mr. and Mrs. Carrington, the word slips off her tongue as if it had never been a mystery.

“Whatever helps you to heal, honey, you do just that,” Mrs. Carrington had said upon noticing how Esther was becoming more comfortable with the term, and Esther followed suit.

She spent time every day writing about her childhood experiences, exploring how they shaped her, and speculating on the many roads her life could take because of those deep-rooted memories.

I can make the conscious decision to put my past behind me, but it is never really gone.

It will always be within me. Will my life take the road I hope for, or will I let my unconscious fears control me?

The Devil And that was what it all came down to: the balance between her healing and the control of the cult. It would never release her, so she needed to determine how to slacken its unrelenting grip. The pain was a shield—it was a safety net she had difficulty fully releasing.

“Dependence is…” Esther trailed off, her thoughts catching in her throat as she struggled to find the right words.

“Take your time,” Mr. Carrington’s voice was steady, calm; Esther could feel his honesty in his voice.

“It’s a refusal to release—to let go of—something that is harmful to your life, but you might not know how harmful it really is—maybe even thinking that it helps to rely on that thing.”

Mr. Carrington nodded. He took a lengthy pause, sipping his tea and looking at Esther in a way that made her feel as though he was looking into her—past the outer layers of her personhood and into her soul—delving into her unconscious.

“Do you feel like you’re dependent on something?” Mr. Carrington’s voice was caring and unaccusatory; he simply wanted to know how Esther felt.

“Yes.” “Would you like to share?”

Esther was quiet for a moment, rolling the word around in her mind. Dependence. What was it that she was dependent on?

“My past.”

Mr. Carrington nodded his head slowly, remaining silent, allowing her to continue at her leisure.

“My past is a wall that protects me.”

“Are you going to break it down?”

The Tower Esther took a sledgehammer to the wall around her heart, and it hurt like hell.

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The Star Esther sat on the porch, the only lights coming from the dim, flickering porchlight and the stars that sprinkled the night sky. Something about those twinkling lights soothed her, and she could feel her whole body relaxing as if infused with a contagious, pure energy—it spread throughout her soul, and she knew she could spread it to others, too.

Aaron stepped out onto the porch to join her, taking a seat beside her without saying a word. He simply looked at her for a moment before gazing up at the stars with her.

“You’ve become brighter, you know,” Aaron said. “Kind of like these stars; it’s like something in you has taken a change of course.”

“I’ve found peace of mind. Acceptance.” Esther’s voice was strong, but gentle. There was no force in it, but there was no fear and hesitance either—it simply was.

“How did you do it?”

“I reached a point of self-awareness; I had to understand what had happened to understand who I was and who I am and who I will be.” Esther turned away from the stars and looked over at Aaron. “I’m not done yet, but I’m getting there. And you will too.”

The Moon Esther sat at her desk, the only light coming from her lamp and the moonlight that crept through the blinds.

What if none of this is enough? What if I am stuck in a state of knowing, but unable to really use what I know? How do I know that I’ll be able to overcome my trauma? Can I ever truly move on?

Esther set her pen down beside her journal, staring at the words on the page. How could she be sure?

I won’t be sure, Esther thought, a sigh escaping her mouth as it crossed her mind. But despite that, I can keep going. Awareness is important, and using my self-knowledge is important… But communication is what really matters. Helping others understand who I am and why, explaining to them that I am trying to get past my automatic responses—the right people will understand.

Esther looked up from her journal, focusing her eyes on the lamp. She reached forward and turned the knob, cutting off the light. She stood up and walked over to the door, and she flicked the main light on, flooding the room with light.

The Sun Esther stepped outside the store, the sun’s rays dancing on her skin as she emerged into the daylight. She wasn’t sure why, but she paused a moment, looking up into the sky, holding up a hand to guard her eyes from the brightness. The warmth of the sunlight nourished her spirit, healing her. It felt as though all her doubts had been washed away, and she was filled with the life force of the universe, which would serve to power her through any trials ahead.

Judgement Esther’s shaky hands danced across the keyboard. There was so much she had to say, and her hands struggled to keep up with the pace her brain formulated thoughts. She typed for pages upon pages—she was unsure how much she had written by the end of it—and she printed it out.

She didn’t take the time to look over it; she wanted to put the letters away in envelopes as

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quickly as possible before she lost hope in sending them. She did, however, briefly glance at the beginning of her letter to her mother: Hello, Mother, I’m not sure if this letter will be received well, but I have quite a lot to say, and I would appreciate if you took the time to read this letter and give the other ones to my father and my siblings.

I do not blame myself anymore for my childhood; I don’t even blame you. I forgive you for doing what you thought was right, but, in reality, it was far from right. I write this because I want to try to understand why and to get some closure.

Esther folded the letter and stuffed it in an envelope. She did the same with the others, writing her old home address on the front along with a return address—she hoped she would get an answer—and she stuck a stamp in the corner.

She mailed the letters immediately.

The World Somewhere in the back of her mind, Esther knew this scene was the mirror image of when she left her family and the cult—but it wasn’t. She stood with a suitcase and a bag on either side of her, an overstuffed backpack over her shoulders, and three loving people around her.

“We’re so proud of you, Esther,” Mrs. Carrington said around a tissue. “Oh, come here, baby.” Mrs. Carrington pulled Esther into a hug, and Esther held her as tight as she could manage.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carrington. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Let us know if you need anything at all. We’ll always be here for you,” Mr. Carrington said from his seat at the table, smiling up at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Carrington. I’ll definitely keep in touch.”

“I’m happy for you,” Aaron said, his voice soft above Mrs. Carrington’s sniffles.

“Thank you, Aaron,” Esther smiled. “I know you’ll get to this point, too. You’ll get here when you’re ready.”

Aaron smiled. “Thank you, Esther. Hope to see you around.”

Esther took one final glance around the room; these faces, these rooms, this house—this had become her family, the life she should’ve had as a child.

“Thank you all,” Esther said, feeling joyous tears welling up behind her eyes. “I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without everything you did for me. I promise I’ll keep in touch, and I promise I will never forget.”

Mrs. Carrington sat down beside her husband, a smile forming through her teary eyes.

Mr. Carrington placed a hand on her shoulder, and Aaron leaned back against the wall.

Esther turned and picked up her bag and suitcase. She walked over to the door, opened it, and turned back to look at her family.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, stay safe out there,” Mr. Carrington said.

“Goodbye, honey, take care,” Mrs. Carrington said after she blew her nose into a tissue.

“Bye, Esther,” Aaron said, raising a hand to wave at her.

Esther smiled at them and turned back to the outside world. She stepped out, the breeze hitting her face and the sunlight kissing her skin. She closed the door behind her, clutched her bag to her chest, and walked to her car.

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Meglyn Deel is a recent graduate of King who majored in Multi-Interdisciplinary Studies with focuses in both English and Music. She is currently working on her Master’s of Education, Curriculum and Instruction. Meglyn works full-time at a local elementary school, and has always enjoyed the liberal arts. When not writing, Meglyn can be found participating in local music or theatre groups. The inspiration for “Taking the Bus” comes directly from life, and how it seems to zoom past so quickly. In her thirty-some years on Earth, Meglyn has learned to appreciate the small things that God has greatly blessed her with.

TAKING THE BUS Clink clink clink The coins fell noisily The wheels turned and they were off No restraints Empty highways Stoplights Diners Cigarette smoke whirling about Cheap hotels A mother’s voice Lost Next stop Life Still no restraints Waiting waiting waiting The bus is late again Fear consumes The rain falls steadily Work begins Swish swish swish The wipers remove the grime All is clean and seemingly visible Two lights Brighter than before Drawing nearer The Last stop

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Heather Vines graduated from King in December of 2019 with her Associate of Art’s degree.

She is now a senior in the Bachelor of Social Work program at King and plans on obtaining her Master’s of Social Work. In her spare time, she enjoys nature and music photography.

10 YEARS OF SILENCE She coats on her mascara thicker than the blackest skies— Reminding her how deep the pain runs through her eyes.

But you only perceive what she allows you to— The smiles, the disguise, the lies, A mystery remains in uncanny cries.

She chases fabrications with pure intent, Leaving only scarred hearts and bones that are bent.

She relinquishes her soul until there’s nothing left to give, Merely a girl whose dreams are for lent.

Yet somehow she floats through the hell that is past, Leaving the parts of her demons away to cast.

And all the somber souls that tried to submerge her light, Will question her resilience as she wins the fight.

THE FAIR PHOTO

The Holston Betheny Keller is a nursing student who will graduate in Fall of 2021. She has lived in the Tri-Cities her entire life. Inspiration for this poem came to her after reading The Unsettling of America by Wendell Berry.

THE WILD To the wilderness I go, off to find my sanity.

Away from human control, where all I see is chaos.

In the wild, I find order.

The rhythms of civilization lead to harm.

In the wilderness, everything functions as it should.

Without the touch of human hands, perfect order thrives.

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Anya Gross is a junior majoring in Exercise Science at King. Her inspiration for this piece is the appreciation of the minute details of God’s creation and its timeless beauty.

THE LITTLE THINGS The wind shatters the innocence of the tree’s frail leaves, A small insect caresses the skin of the tree’s branches, The sun warmly kisses the tree’s ripe fruit.

I sit; watching, waiting, Soaking up these moments.

I live for the little things.

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Christina Fulcher is a junior majoring in Cell and Molecular Biology. Christina wrote this piece after a series of reoccurring dreams that she had about the end of the world. These dreams began while Christina’s grandfather was terminally ill with lung cancer, and they occurred over the course of four years. The first time she had the dream, Christina was not phased by the incoming storm because she did not have a love for life on Earth. The last time that she had this dream, Christina had become aware that she was finally once again in a good place mentally as she feared the incoming storm. Christina wrote “The Storm” as soon as she woke up from the dream for the last time.

THE STORM 12-29-17 1:46 am A cautious rumble comes from up above, warning us of the storm to come.

Once again, I fear the unknown afterland.

How nice it is to not wish for the Grim Reaper to work his hand.

The dark, foreign sky above sends my heart racing; the sudden approaching clap of thunder starts my hand shaking.

I look up at the faces there with me.

Thank God, they’re also uneasy.

Last time, tears came from every face but my own, but now my eyes produce their own sorrow.

The sky swirls red and black.

The waves grow taller than buildings, then SMACK! Right when the storm has approached us at its worst, a solid white light blocks my sight.

And for a moment, there is peace.

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Linda LeeAnn Cottle is a senior Criminal Justice major and Psychology minor. The inspiration for these photos came from Steele Creek Park, Grayson Highlands State Park, and Billingsley, AL. BRIDGE TO ADVENTURE

The Holston MOUNTAINS TO INFINITY

BEDTIME FOR THE FOREST

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The Holston Volume 4 Spring 2021