Lagniappe 2023 by liliana Torreblanca

Lagniappe Magazine | Vol. 11

Lagniappe lagniappe | lan • yap; noun

Something given as a bonus or extra gift ORIGIN | Louisiana French from Spanish, la ñapa

WRITING

Letter from the editor Liliana Torreblanca | 4

The Hole Liliana Torreblanca | 15

Love Sharon Zambrano | 27

It’s Cold Liliana Torreblanca | 33

Lest we Forget Skylar Fondren | 6 - 7

Life Billy Jones | 16

Little Mouse Sharon Zambrano | 28

Where? Skylar Fondren | 34

Roller Coaster Billy Jones | 8 - 9

Anger Sharon Zambrano | 17

Josh Sharon Zambrano | 29

Poisoned love my new addiction Sharon Zambrano | 35

Get back in the game Teresa Omoghene | 10

Lovely Stanger Liliana Torreblanca | 18

Writers Block Sharon Zambrano | 30

A step you can’t take back Skylar Fondren | 38

The True Illusion Sharon Zambrano | 11

Conversation with Death Sharon Zambrano | 24 – 25

Evolution Skylar Fondren | 31

Walk in the woods Sharon Zambrano | 39

Falling Liliana Torreblanca | 14

Fortune Billy Jones | 26

Power through Amy Lopez | 32

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Rafe Adams | 12

Top - Mask to hide one’s feelings

Love Stains Arianna McClain | 12

Artist Page Jose Castro | 21 Center - Peter Bottom - Roost Mache Bottom - Whispering Touch

Artist Page Yael Salazar | 22 Left - Pose Portrait Right - Working Machine Bottom - Yael Salazar

Ranch Life Jake Murray | 34

Rafes Photo Rafe Adams | 24 - 25

Colorblind Beauty Hope Kelly | 35

Mandalas | 26 - 27 Top to Bottom

Monochromatic Portraits | 36 - 37 Left to right Yael Salazar Jose Castro Rafe Adams Chloe Johnson Victoria Bennett

Liliana Torreblanca | 15 Alive

Untiled Kathryn Byars | Top

Growing Family Victoria Bennett |12

Liliana Torreblanca | 16 Boo Ya’ll

Yael Salazar Spring Flower | Middle

Soul Water Victoria Bennett | 12

Liliana Torreblanca | 17

Glucose Denver Carpenter | Bottom

Horrible Disaster

Masterpieces in the Making Liliana Torreblanca | 19 Artist Page Rafe Adams | 20 Left - Still Life

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El Firulais Yael Salazar | 32

The Final Act Liliana Torreblanca | 23

Egg Pipe Jose Castro | 12

Mami’s Flower Vase Liliana Torreblanca | 12

Alien Superstar Jose Castro | 31

El Kota Liliana Torreblanca | 33

*Ceramics Gallery *

Raindrops on Roses Hope Kelly | 18

Star Stuck Liliana Torreblanca | 30

Featured Artist Portraits by Liliana Torreblanca

These Heights Liliana Torreblanca | 14 Void

Hidden Secrets Rafe Adams | 12

Strange Oddities Ian O’dell | 29

Autumn Breeze Jose Castro | Center The Horror Of Men Rafe Adams | 28

The Hidden Tracks Liliana Torreblanca | 38 Shadowed Emily Hamlin | 39 Back Cover My cat in my couch Rafe Adams

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Liliana Torreblanca

As I sit and think about the first time I walked into H-108, otherwise known as The Eagle Room or the J-Room, I reminisce about all the ideas and projects that have been completed in this room.

possible without the help and enthusiasm of my advisers, Mandy Smith and Daniel Sanchez. I would also like to thank NTCC for providing students like myself with a platform to express our creativity.

Over the summer I had the privilege of seeing and reading the different ways students at NTCC express their emotions. All the entries, including the art and photography sent to us, were absolute masterpieces, and I struggled to find a place for them all.

Lastly, I would like to express my sincere appreciation to you. Your decision to pick up a copy of Lagniappe not only encourages and supports the exceptional work showcased within its pages, but it also fuels our drive to continue pushing our boundaries to become better artists, writers and designers.

I’m happy to say that thanks to this room, I have discovered a new love for magazines and design. I would like to thank every person who helped me blossom and grow, allowing me to become a better artist. None of this, however, would have been

Designer & Editor Liliana Torreblanca

Lagniappe is the literary magazine of Northeast Texas Community College

Content Editor

•

Mary-Faith Wilson

Northeast Texas Community College is an affirmative action equal opportunity institution 4

Advisers Mandy Smith & Daniel Sanchez

As we wrap up this edition of Lagniappe, I invite you to immerse yourself in the art and literary pieces within its pages. I hope it inspires and ignites a spark of creativity in each of you.

Lagniappe is dedicated to Professor Tom Lynch and his group of past student writers, “The Lynch Mob,” who inspired creativity throughout the NTCC campus community. May their legacy live on. A special thanks to Mileah Hall, Jodi Pack, Delbra Anthony, Mandy Smith and Daniel Sanchez for their constant support. Each one of you has played an integral part during the creation of this magazine, and without your guidance and support, this artistic project would not have been possible. This little something extra is for you. Lagniappe Magazine | Vol. 11

Featured Artist

Rafe Adams

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Yael Salazar

Jose Castro

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Lest we forget By Skylar Fondren

“Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” - George Santayana

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“DON’T TALK BACK TO ME!”

own place at 23. I was in college studying to be a dental assistant, and he was studying to be an engineer.

My scream deafened the room. I had been annoyed with my daughter for not listening to me. She kept talking back when I tried to discipline her, and I let my anger slip.

It was a shock when I found out I was pregnant. I wasn’t expecting it so soon. My hand shook holding the test as I stared at the faint line that meant there was a baby growing inside me.

Immediately, I was no longer in the present, but in the past. I was the little girl quivering before my mom as she threatened to beat me black and blue. She was not a good mother. I had spent my entire life in fear of her anger and the violence that came out when she was drunk. When I was five, I got my first beating. She hit me so many times, only because I had told her there was no more beer left in the fridge. I was terrified of her rage, and even of her happiness, because of how quickly she could turn. My father always stayed out of it. Choosing the bliss of ignorance. He pretended not to notice my injuries and always gave excuses to those who asked. Everything about my childhood revolved around the mood my mother was in. When I was 14, I was taken aside to speak to the counselor. She asked me, point blank, if I was being abused. I answered honestly. I did not know. My mother and the life I lived isolated me. I did not know what a healthy household looked like. I only realized my life was not normal when I met my future husband. The summer before my senior year, my mom was laid off from work. It was the worst summer of my life. My dad had to get a job, so it was just Mom and me at home all day. She hated being my babysitter and took it out on me every chance she got. I began sneaking away from sunup to sundown. If my mother did not see me then she could not beat me. On my wanderings throughout town, I met a lot of people. Mostly those who saw a pitiful little girl who did not look or act her age. No one would give me a job, though I did my best to show I could work hard. All they saw was a malnourished child. No one would hire such a creature. However, I did manage to make a friend. His name was Benjamin. He wandered, like me, and we realized this after crossing paths several times. One day, he stopped me and held out his hand. In it was a sandwich. For me, I should have known better than to accept his pity, but I was so incredibly hungry that I did not think twice. In silence we sat and ate our sandwiches. When he began talking, I was startled. “You know, my mom says you can come over for dinner if you want.” “Huh?” I was confused. No one in the town ever wanted anything to do with me. Benjamin and his mom showed me a kindness that I had never experienced before. I was able to graduate high school because of the refuge offered at Ben’s house. I spent almost every night there, which of course led to the two of us falling in love. We moved into our

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The only thing I wanted for this baby was a life full of love and laughter. I wanted her to grow up with a full stomach and a mother whose smile brightened at the sight of her. I had to be better than my mom. The day Mary was born was the best day of my life, and the scariest. The weight of responsibility threatened to pull me under. I had started to forget my past, pushing that trauma down so deep that it rarely affected me any more. Mary brought every fear and past trauma back to the surface. It seemed somewhere in my efforts to be different from my mother I began to notice the similarities between myself and her. Every time that whisper of doubt entered my mind, I pushed it away. Mary would not live a life fearing her mother. And yet, often I found my anger at her actions consuming me. She was reckless. She disappeared at all hours of the day and night. I found her smoking weed at 15 in her bedroom with a boy she had snuck in through the window. How was my sweet daughter heading down such a terrible path? Had I not done everything I could to do to be the best parent I could? We began fighting. A lot. Ben was often the mediator, begging us to calm down. I pushed back, trying to comprehend why Mary was doing things that would destroy her future. In my anger I found my mother. At that moment, when I screamed, “DON’T TALK BACK TO ME!” I knew I had messed up. It wasn’t the statement so much as the energy that I put into it. I saw the fear in her eyes when I screamed because I had always stopped myself before screaming in that way. Or Ben did. Today, it was just me and her. We were fighting over something trivial. Now, I realized that she felt the fear I had once felt. I could not forget my past, my pains, because if I did, my daughter would face the consequences. It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be. I slumped to the floor. The anger exiting my body, all I could say was, “I’m sorry.” Something my mother never said to me. Then she said something I have never and will never say to my mother,

“I forgive you.”

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I have been waiting in line For it to be my turn I check and check again I have a ticket in my hand I’m ready to become Superman I check my hand once again Drop the tickets And pick them up again I get on the ride ready to go The ride is about to take off But I change my mind I shout, “Stop!” But, it is too late, Up and down we go I scream, “This is not a show!” They laugh and yell, “We know” The roller coaster comes to an end My friend wants me to go again. I tell him “No man! I’m going home.”

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By Teresa Omoghene I can’t focus My head is in the sky Why do I question why Get back in the game Stop making excuses Don’t let people bring you down Be the unstoppable Get back in the game Go for your goals Reach high and fly Stay positive in your mind Get back in the game.

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appiness is an illusion. For a moment you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, but with a blink of an eye, it’s all gone. You wonder how it could all disappear in a moment of seconds. With a few small words and your world crumbles. There was once a land with sunshine and beautiful greenery but now, it’s just a dark vast of emptiness. Why did I close my eyes? Why did my happiness have to leave? Why couldn’t it stay? Why does it hurt?

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By Sharon Zambrano Lagniappe Magazine | Vol.11 11

Growing Family Victoria Bennett

Egg Pipe Jose Castro

Soul Water Victoria Bennett

Hidden Secrets Rafe Admas

Mami’s Flower Vase Liliana Torreblanca 12

Horrible Disaster Vanessa Kouao

Love Stains Arianna McClain Lagniappe Magazine | Vol. 11

Hand Mask Jose Castro

Fire Adrian Nava

Ivozimghanian Vanessa Kovao Northeast Texas Community College | 2023 13

Mask to Hides One’s Feelings Rafe Adams

Cat Yael Salazar Lagniappe Magazine | Vol.13 11

By Liliana Torreblanca

So, this is what it feels like Falling from a skyscraper We were already so high We could see the skyline Yeah, we were scraping at all the walls But we had made it Halfway up The door opened and you left us You didn’t look back You just left On that one floor everybody keeps leaving I thought I’d be fine, but I wasn’t When the doors opened again I almost stepped in But I didn’t Why I don’t know And when the doors closed again We kept moving. I got to the top with nowhere to go I look down seeing the streets we started on And step off the ledge wanting to start again.

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It’s cold down here. But sometimes it overheats You see, At times it feels Like I’m in a cold hole It’s cold down here At times I can’t breathe But when I can Water burns my lungs I drown in my head At my own mercy When I am thirsty I search And I search But my mouth stays dry I can’t speak at times So, my mouth stays shut Because sometimes I’m stuck in a hole Though I say I’d like to leave I tied this rock to myself So here I stay In this hell I made for myself All alone Alone in the dark It’s cold down here….

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By Liliana Torreblanca

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LIFE By Billy Jones

Life is like a fog You’re here, then you’re gone Life can be short Life can be long Enjoy the moment while is last Because one day, it will be in the past You will have your own family one day Enjoy the company and family as you stay One day, you will be an old grandparent Telling your grandchildren your stories In your last days Life is like a movie It comes to an end I will get called home Where I belong In Heaven with my savior Jesus Living my beautiful new life. That is where my new life begins

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By Sharon Zambrano Anger! Raging hot anger. The type that fills the mind with irrational thoughts. Seeing the world in a red hue. The type that shakes me to my core. Such emotion. Such a powerful feeling. Who knew I could be like this? Who knew that someone could push me to such a point? A point where I am blinded by rage? A point where it’s getting hard to bite my tongue and sit still. Yet here I am, behaving and keeping my composure. Being on my best behavior.

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By Liliana Torreblanca

I guess we grew apart The early mornings and late nights The conversation finally came to a full stop I guess we outgrew each other as the days passed Now we pass each other quietly No longer best friends Just old pals We stayed up late with classmates Just to see each other at breakfast Now we sit alone We used to talk for the longest Now we’re hiding from each other We’re embarrassed Of what we used to be So, we steal glances of each other But can’t seem to face one another And gather the courage to just say... Hello.

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Meet Rafe Adams, a striving comic artist who crafts his masterpieces with graphite, alcohol and markers. His creative process involves intricate planning, sometimes taking up to two weeks to complete his art He has been creating stunning art for six years and finds his inspiration from horror genre and artist like Junji Ito, a Japanese horror manga artist. Armed with an ink pen, Rafe conjures up nightmarish creations. He humbly describes his work as “mediocre,” but mentions he strives for improvement and seeking perfection in his work.

Rafe revealed that he likes to work on his projects one at a time to avoid losing interest. He also mentioned that he likes to listen to music or watch YouTube videos to accompany him in his creative journey. Outside of creating his art, Rafe enjoys gaming, YouTube, and reading. He dreams of creating an online horror series and producing a print series as well. When asked what he would advise young artists he said, “I would advise them to keep practicing, draw every day and keep a schedule and rhythm that will lead them to create a better work ethic.”

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Walk into the mind of Jose Castro. He sees graphite as the foundational tool that sets the stage for his creativity to run wild. “Graphite is the medium I prefer,” he said. “It’s just the first thing you begin with, and it eventually becomes a habit.” Jose’s creativity comes to life with the simplest of sources. “A song is always helpful but also just drawing a simple smiley face gets my creative juices flowing and scribbling,” he said. Jose has been creating art since kindergarten. Before long art started taking over his mind. “High school was where it got worse, and I began to doodle on every piece of paper I touched,” he said.“To this day I still doodle on test and assignments.” When beginning a new project, his inspiration sometimes comes asking, “How did they do that?” His inspiration also comes from other artists like Danny Casale, a YouTuber who creates animation to share with his followers. Jose tends to work on different projects at the same time because he is easily distracted. The longest any project has taken him is two months. Although some artists prefer a quite atmosphere when creating art, Jose said, “Silence to me is quite loud and makes

me uncomfortable. I read better with music, and create art with it too. Music is pretty much just as helpful.” Outside of art, Jose also enjoys learning the choreography of his favorite songs. He describes his art as messy, neat, and sometimes a little of both. “You never know”. His unique factor is the coloring and shading that is not often used in other art. Since the beginning, Jose has found different ways to express his creativity. “If someone looked at my work throughout the years, they would notice the growth and creativity in each piece,” he said. His dream project is “to have painting with dramatic contrast in shadow and light like many artists had during the renaissance era. It is my absolute dream to create something unrealistically beautiful.” His advice to younger artist is, “Don’t be scared to color over the outline, there’s always a way to make mistakes on part of the piece. Remember practice makes progress.”

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We present to you Yael Salazar, an amazing and creative artist. When creating art, his preferred medium is pencil, but he also knows how to use colored pencils very well. His creative process sometimes includes pictures taken by himself. “I like to draw pictures I take, so if there’s a specific mood or “vibe” I feel within me, I look for a picture that I’ve taken that would suit that moment. I also enjoy drawing anime and other cartoons, so when I’m not drawing realism, I spend my time with those other types of drawings.” The longest he has ever taken to finish a project was six weeks due to only working during scheduled class time. He has been creating art since he was six years old, but began honing his skills and practicing more at the age of 11. When asked about what inspired him to create his art he said, “I see other

peoples’ work and it makes me want to be able to do something like them, I’m also very competitive, so if I see something that I know I can do better, I’ll do it!” He says depending on the art he is creating, he can work on multiple projects at the same time. Outside of creating breathtaking art, Yael likes to build and craft lamps and shirts. He describes his work as “basic but unique.” One of the things he likes to do is take the much-needed time to fuse his work with uniqueness and simplicity in order to create what becomes remarkable pieces of art. His work has extended from “simple” anime and unproportioned drawings to now being able to draw realistic people and animals. His dream project is to create a painting of a person using only lipstick as his medium. Yael’s advice for younger artists is, “Don’t get upset if a drawing you did came out bad, keep it, store it, work up your skills, then go back and laugh at it! If you’re struggling with proportions, use a grid, the more you use it, the more you get used to visualizing how things are placed.”

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By Sharon Zambrano

I stepped into the shower and turned the heat up to the maximum. I took a place on the ground and wrapped my arm around my legs, hugging myself and resting my head on my knees. I closed my eyes. Peace. For once everything is quiet. As soon as I opened my eyes, they were sitting in front of me. I smiled slightly, placing my chin on my

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knees so I could look at them. “Why won’t you take me?” I asked them. “I want to be with you” “I know, I want to be with too, but I can’t, not yet.” I looked at Death with sad eyes and pain in my chest. I wish I could hug them. I wish I could touch them. I wish I could feel them.

By: Billy Jones

When I found you It was unexpected. I saw your eyes It was like seeing the ocean, Beautiful and romantic. I love the time we spend together. Every time we argue you win. When I found you, You found me. At the same time, Feels like we’ve been together for a lifetime. I remember the first time we met. I will never forget How your eyes matched your dress. When we found each other Everything made sense.

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By Sharon Zambrano

“But I love you!” “Yes, but you don’t love me the way I love you!” I sighed swallowing my tears. “You miss me, but you don’t miss me the way I miss you” She looked at me with pain in her eyes. “You don’t know that,” she tries to tell me. But I know better. “You don’t have me constantly on your mind when I am away. You don’t long for me like you might shut down without me. You can still rest without being afraid you’re missing time with me.” I stare at her. “You know I am right.” A tear slips out of her eye before she drops her head. “You love me, but not as much as I’ve fallen for you.”

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By Sharon Zambrano

I giggle as he tickles me. While doing so, I scrunch my nose. He lets out a soft smile. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles into my neck. “My little mouse.” I’m panting, terrified, I scan my surroundings. I slam my hand over my mouth. Keeping myself from making a sound. My heart drops when I feel his aura behind me. I jump away, making a run for it. He softly giggles in a deep voice. Flipping the bloody knife in his hand. He starts chasing me and says, “Hum, no need to run, my little mouse.”

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By Sharon Zambrano

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Evolution By Skylar Fondren

How do I learn how to feel? To feel every emotion deeply, freely Without allowing it to control me I must undergo an evolution A study of love, sadness, and madness To find my emotions Buried so deeply to protect my heart Which aches with empathy Yet cries for sympathy I want to feel It may take time To change and grow But what is life without evolution?

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Power Through By Amy Lopez

Defeat is not the end for you It is only a chance to stand And rise up again To power through until you win Only then will you defeat The lesson to remember And learn from Tomorrow may be hard, but I will Power through and smile sweetly

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By Liliana Torreblanca It’s so cold but it’s funny because it’s starting to feel normal Like I’ve been living in it so long I’m numb I’m numb to the pain I hold my breath because I’m scared to feel pain I shut my mouth because it’s all I know now Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll sit tight Don’t leave because it feels like I just can’t live without you I walk where you walk I promised I’d be just steps behind you But as time goes by it feels like you are Way ahead of time Cause you’re so happy and Falling just doesn’t feel right I keep falling I keep tripping I keep running But time just keeps moving You promised me happiness You were meant to hold me every night But you left me all alone when I Needed you the most See now I’m cold, I’m numb I’m tripping on my own two feet Wondering what I did that was so wrong In a world so cold how could I Not lose myself I’ve been struggling to breathe It feels like every night it gets harder And harder to sleep Some nights I just stare at the ceiling

Hoping tonight will be the night Where I say goodnight and never wake up But this cold world never sleeps I’ve been stuck on this ride for too long I just want to go home I want to feel safe I want to smile just like my friends Be able to say I’m fine and mean it But this cold world never sleeps does it It’s like God himself likes watching Me suffer At times I pray, but He just doesn’t answer I know He works hard But can’t He just listen Spare a glance or two I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to question Him You say, “He has a plan for us all.” But time just keeps moving, And it keeps leaving me behind I don’t know if He does it on purpose Or He just doesn’t seem to notice I never knew life was going to be deadly See, because you came around And set the sun above me You made it shine for me You made me feel like I was something Like I was special. Now that you’re gone I’m alone in this cold house. Don’t leave me because life just doesn’t Feel right without you.

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Where? By Skylar Fondren

How does one go about finding peace? Do we find it in religion? In our jobs? In our relationships? I’m not sure. I don’t claim to know The answers, I am not a philosopher. But I do know That peace is where true Joy lies And maybe, if I can find it Wherever it is, I will be satisfied

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By Sharon Zambrano

They told me that if I’d get a taste of you, I would never get enough. I took a look at you, I watched you, I smelled you. You seemed like you would burn like poison on my tongue. I stayed away from you, but you came to me like a spiked drink. You blended into my life. So I took a bite of you. It tasted sweet, tingly but also risky and spicy. The more I took, the higher I got. You are like a drug to me. I got a taste of you and now I am addicted.

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Y A E L

J O S E

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C H L O E R A F E

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V I C T O R I A

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By Skylar Fondren One step. It’s just one step. Why can’t I do it? Standing by the tracks, my heart is filled with fear. The ground is rumbling, alow sound, more vibration than anything, and it sets my heart’s pace. Thump thump thump. It’s coming. The suitcase in my hand feels like it’s full of a thousand rocks. I don’t even recall what I threw in it. Maybe it was rocks. Why did I even bring a suitcase? No one is here to see me off. This is a journey I must embark upon alone. A one-way ticket. No going back. But why should I want to stay? My life here has not been great.

It has just been. I should be ready to jump onto the tracks. I’m scared, though. This life, this town, it’s all I know. Change is hard for me to accept. I chose to do this, though. No one else knows they won’t be seeing me again. It’s what I wanted. The little cafe where I worked will never call me for another opening shift. The library can no longer fine me for returning late books. The neighbor’s cat will never rub against my legs whenever I arrive home. My mailman will wonder where I’ve gone. The woman who invited me for tea will come

knocking with her kettle, only to find an empty residence. My plants will yearn for water, but receive none. Maybe someone will take them. It’s just one step. The rumbling grows more fierce. Why is nobody here? The clock chimes once. One step. I try to move my feet. Which foot do I step with? My right or left? Why am I even questioning this? My right foot feels like it has been sown into the ground. There is an echo resonating in my head. It’s almost time. I lift my foot, slowly, Surely. Am I sure? This is a step I can’t take back. I take the step. The horn blows.

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By Sharon Zambrano I stroll through the woods. I wouldn’t say I am lost, I just…. forgot the way back. The sun is setting and it’s starting to get dark. At this rate, I am never going to find a way out. It doesn’t help that people have been disappearing in these woods. People have been saying the weirdest things. Werewolves, ghosts, witches, and forest monsters. All because they’re scared, and they Northeast Texas Community College | 2023 39

don’t have a better explanation. I don’t blame them. The bodies found were missing pieces of flesh from their stomach, arms and legs. No DNA, no trace of anything was left behind. I shake it off and keep walking, when suddenly I hear a rustle from behind me. I turn around praying it isn’t a swine. No swine but a human silhouette. I smile. Finally, I am starting to get hungry. Lagniappe Magazine | Vol.39 11

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