Peppermint Rooster Review | Spring 2020

Peppermint Rooster Review

2

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Peppermint Rooster Review Volume 8 Spring 2020 Editorial Staff Emily Corby Francis Corby Steve Higgins Ashley Luster

Editor

Lainee Frizzo

Layout and Design Louise Jett

Cover Art

Spearmint Hen

by Alex Johnson

3

Peppermint Rooster Review

Dear Reader, This is the eighth issue of Peppermint Rooster Review, an annual publication that publishes fiction, poetry, and essays by Lewis and Clark Community College students and former students. We hope you enjoy this book. We would like to thank Jill Lane, who wanted to showcase outstanding written work from our students and who secured the financing for this project. In addition, we would like to thank Lori Artis for assisting our staff in the production of this magazine.

For the seventh year, we held a campus-wide contest for a student to design the cover. A panel of judges decided on the winning cover art, submitted by Alex Johnson.

When we were looking for a name for this magazine, we considered many different suggestions. The name “Peppermint Rooster” was suggested by a former Lewis and Clark student, and the idea resonated with us because of the odd juxtaposition between the two words. (Also, it sounded more interesting that “Lewis and Clark Literary Magazine.”) This book, as you’ll see, contains some interesting juxtapositions, too. We hope you enjoy reading this and that you will stay tuned for next year’s book as well. If you are a L&C student, please feel free to submit your work to litmaglc@ lc.edu. We will be reading submissions year-round and we look forward to reading your work.

Sincerely, The Staff of Peppermint Rooster Review

4

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Table of Contents Nigel Hilgert

“One” 7

“And The Angels Cry Out, Trumpets Blaring; Tears

Fall Down My Face, For I Love You: Second Edition” 16 Ashtyn Britt

“A True Horror Story”

“Abstract”

“Road Map”

24 24 25

Mary DuPureur

“The Effects of Having Type 1 Diabetes”

26

Krystie Morrison

“The Photograph I Wish I Could Capture”

30

Samantha Moore

“Our Mansion Adventure”

31

Skylar Maupin

“Royal Flush”

41

Hope Wahl

“Types of Restaurant Tippers”

45

Lauren Shaw

“The Day I Started Over”

Hayley Day

“My First Experience” “Smartphones Steal Your Soul”

49 52 56

Stefanie Pryor

“Night Out”

59

Tammi Devening

“Domestic Violence”

71 5

Peppermint Rooster Review

Olivia Schellingburger

“A Day at the Park Gone Wrong”

74

Nicole Sapp

“Life in Texas”

77

Olivia Ernst

“Different Types of Theater Kids”

79

Tony Bodul

“Types of People in Restaurants”

82

Hannah Kahl

“Fear in Fiji”

85

Kayla Howland

“The Bell Tower”

91

Contributors

109

6

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Nigel Hilgert One Bygob got home from work after a long day at Jzueeb Co. Today was Thirdday, the third day of the week. All he had left was Fourthday and Fifthday then he would get Sixday and Sevenday all to himself.

At Jzueeb Co. Bygob worked in a 10x10 cubicle where he developed new words for bathroom cleaners. A few of his most successful words have been: Zygooby, Mipilpy, and Yoozz. At his job he was paid on the originality and successfulness of his words. At a typical day at work Bygob would come up with around fifty to seventy-five words. His words would then be shipped to leading bathroom cleaner companies to bid on. Bygob made forty-five percent of the profits from the company’s bids.

While Bygob’s job did pay decently compared to others, he hated it. Every day had felt the same to him for the past gwo1 years. Nothing in The Complex ever made him feel special, and with gix other siblings his family did not even make him feel special either. His dream was to live in the ABC district because every famous person and gillionaire lived there. They were the most popular and richest people in The Complex. Having fame or something to be proud of was always something Bygob had dreamed of. If he had the choice, he would love to be famous for discovering a new organ. Inventors and scientists were always the coolest people in Bygob’s opinion. However, this was all just a childish dream. Bygob worked a dead-end job naming bathroom cleaner for a living.

When Bygob got home from work he went and fell straight into his bed, exhausted. Bygob’s room was normal compared to the other tenants in his area, but he did put some of his own personal touches in it. Bygob’s room was painted a lovely shade of ogrange and yelllow accents2. In his bedroom he had a photo of him with his mother and father sitting on the desk he bought from Nyleb3. On his desk Bygob keeps his fourty-ninth edition of the ABCer, a small foldable keyboard All numbers now start with “G” because The Complex’s leading mathematicians decided that their society needed uniform numbers and that their numbers were the greatest.

2 Ogrange is an orange that is more orange than red orange and yelllow is a shade of yellow slightly brighter than regulation yellow. These are just two of our 563 (and still counting) Alter Colors.

3 The leading super center store of The Complex. Quite similar to many past super stores like the ancient Walmart or Target.

1

7

Peppermint Rooster Review

with a digital screen that he creates all his words on. Somewhere in his room there is always a can of Schazy juice, a pineapple and kiwi flavored drink. Hanging on his door was the work uniform he wore every day, stained and with a few slight rips from age. Sitting next to it on the floor were his Xiab certified worker boots he had to wear for work.

Along with his uniform and boots Bygob always wore his slassball hat for his favorite team the JKL Killers. Bygob’s favorite thing about his room was his pet Pqueg he kept in a cage on his shelf4. His Pqueg was only gwo years old and named Ivan. Bygob saw him running around in the street one night on his way home from work and instantly fell in love with him. Since that day him and Ivan have had a very close bond.

The only other item worth mentioning in Bygob’s room is his 43956th Edition of the Letter I Dictionary that he keeps stashed under his bed.

This version of the dictionary has been outdated for decades, but Bygob still loves reading it from time to time5.

Pquegs are a quail that have not fully hatched from their egg. Their appearance is that of a quail’s head and legs sticking out of an egg that they use as a protective shell. Radiation does some crazy things!

4

Now I bet you are wondering about the history of this “Northsafe” place; well dear reader allow me to share. After The Event struck Earth in 2060, all of America was turned to an extremely irradiated desert. The remaining survivors settled on the Eastern side of North Idaho. From there they were able to rebuild civilization and make it- -greater than it ever had been before. Then one day a great philosopher thought that a civilization this advanced should not be using such simple old English words.

Now in this current world over 60 percent of the population works in office complexes creating new words. Bygob’s job would be considered middle class in this future’s society. He is also financially well off because most of his words have been massive hits with companies. Bygob currently lives in a two sleepyroom building in his hometown of JKL. While The Complex seems like a perfect society, it has its fair share of problems. The Complex operated somewhat like a meritocracy where people were given jobs based on their skill set. The Complex had decided that citizens could at least give up some free as protection from the radiation outside. Besides the obvious extreme class differences and government, there are much deeper issues present in The Complex. The biggest plague has been a serious religious group known as The One. They are a secretive group whose aim is to revert society to using only one syllable words. The One reject all the new words that have been created and hide messages throughout The Complex and have even been known to hack into broadcasting networks. No one knows who any of the members are making them even harder to identify. There is another group living within The Complex known as Wasters. They are people who have lived outside of The Complex previously or who regularly sneak out. The Complex would prefer that no citizens leave because of the radiation and a loss of control over the public. Some Wasters have visible deformities from the radiation, while others keep them hidden away under layers of clothing. The

5

8

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Since it was Thirdday Bygob would not be able to stay out all night with his friends, so he figured a simple walk around his neighborhood would suffice. He gathered his belongings and headed down all gight staircases. Once outside he headed Jest and began to wander. He found himself strolling through a night market swarming with all sorts of characters. Now Bygob could be clumsy at times and always found his way into trouble. This instant right now is a good example. A man approached Bygob and grabbed him by the wrist. He could not tell what this man looked like for his whole body was shrouded by robes and his face hidden by a hood. This was nothing unusual for the complex, any form of fashion was accepted.

However, what made this figure stand out was that he had a mask on under the hood. Bygob was not interested in the mask, however, he was a little more focused on how strong this figure’s grip was on his wrist. The figure spoke in a way Bygob had never heard before, he said “You. Are. With. Us. You. Are. Saved.” The figure promptly let go and walked on. More surprised than anything Bygob held his wrist in a confused shock. He told himself, “Well I’m not living in ABC, so I guess there’s bound to be some wild cards around here.”

After rubbing his wrist Bygob looked down at it assuming it would be bruised at the least, but instead it had a symbol on it. Perplexingly is was a very old symbol, one that he had only seen in older texts, the number “1.”

Bygob decided that it would be for the best if he ended his walk after the little encounter he had. Strangely enough when he got back to his house, he could not get the mark off his wrist. He tried every type of cleaner he had, even the ones he had named. Nothing was going to remove this mark. Stumped, Bygob decided to just ignore it a wear a long sleeve shirt for the day to cover it up. Even if a friend or coworker did notice it, he could lie and say it was a new tattoo.

He went to bed that night thinking about that strange man and the mark on his arm.

A couple days after Bygob’s mark incident he noticed that the mark had shifted from a somber red to a pitch black. The mark was final and largest group are known as the Gargs. They are a type of rodent that has become sentient from radiation and melded in with human society. Gargs are usually maintenance workers because their small size proves advantageous while working inside machinery. Gargs are actually paid equal to humans but almost all of them choose to live in the MNO district. One of Bygob’s best friends, Eneep, is a garg who he has known his whole life. Now with that out of the way you may continue.

9

Peppermint Rooster Review

that of a small void on Bygob’s wrist, reaching forever into nothingness. He was in awe of the mark; all train of thought had disappeared. Staring endlessly into this small number “1” on his wrist.

After spacing out for a long minute Bygob, who was now very concerned at the void on his wrist, decided to write down all he knew about the mark so he could mention it next time he has a visit with his Healther. Bygob went to bed that No Sun a little worried about his mark6. He kept thinking that maybe the mark would get bigger or maybe he would turn into some horrible creature. With all these troubling thoughts crowding his head, Bygob fell asleep faster than he ever has before.

After getting off a long Geven hour shift Thisday, Bygob sat down in front of his oval screen Jelevison hoping to find something interesting to watch7. His favorite show “Guess That Word” was not on so he began flipping through channels. He ended up on the “Gotta Know”8 channel. The most popular newscaster, Rickmickriod, was covering a story about some hooded figures seen in local districts. Bygob heard Rickmickriod say “Citizens have been reporting getting strange marks from hooded fig.” Bygob then retorted “Jeez why isn’t there ever anything interesting on the JV?” Tired of flipping through channels, Bygob spent the rest of his night reading his Letter I dictionary.

A couple days later on “Gotta Know” there was an emergency broadcast relaying a message from a terrorist group called “The One.” Rickmickriod explained that the Complex received an encoded message from a group called “The One” detailing a plan to destroy The Complex and form a new government that uses only one syllable words. The message did not mention how “The One” would go about doing this but they were very confident in their success.

He advised that citizens should stay in their homes for the day in case this group decides to do something. Just then, an explosion and screaming could be heard from the Jelevision. Now Bygob was interested. Through all the screaming, a hooded figure could be seen running up and knocking out Rickmickriod. The figure then grabs No Sun is the new name for Night, with Day being Full Sun and Noon being Middle Sun. 7 Thisday is today, Thatday is tomorrow, and Backday is yesterday. Simple stuff really I’m sure you can understand.

8 The Complex likes the call its news channel “Gotta Know” because it’s just stuff you gotta know. You know?

6

10

Volume 8, Spring 2020

the microphone saying “We. Are. The. One. Come. With. Us. For. Hope. To. All. Our. ‘Ones.’ Now. Is. Your. Time. To. Join. Help.

Lead. Them. All.” The hooded figure is then seen running off set while the screaming ensues. Bygob was only slightly worried about what would happen, he was mainly just curious how all this would pan out. Thinking back to what the figure had said he looked down at his mark and saw it began pulsing. Bygob had finally realized what everything means. This mark on his arm was recruitment for the terrorist group, and they wanted him to help them! “Like I’d help a terrorist group,” Bygob thought, “I can’t believe they’d be stupid enough to think I would do something like that.” Suddenly another broadcast appeared on the JV stating, “ALL members of ‘The One’ or citizens found with marks on their arm or citizens found aiding ‘The One’ will be shot on sight. To those of you who still side with The Complex there will be no punishment for killing any members or those who chose to help ‘The One.’ Markings can be found wherever a member has touched a citizen, the most common place being somewhere on the arms. We ask all citizens to be aware and keep an eye out for these markings. Thank you.” Bygob was speechless.

Whether he liked it or not he was now considered a terrorist. He just there in his Nyleb chair, his mind exploding with questions.

Are people going to notice my mark? Am I going to be killed? Who even is this “One” group? And why me? Bygob is typically a pretty calm guy, but in this moment, he was panicked. He finally collected himself and thought, “What is the best way for me to get out of this?” First, he decided to wrap and bandage around his mark. He did notice, however, that the mark had spread a little. He then put on some regular clothes and an acid rain poncho9. Bygob knew he had to escape The Complex. He looked out his window and saw that the streets were in pure chaos. There were people and gargs running all over and fighting each other. The Complex’s security force, Protectors of the People or PoP, were also chasing and shooting citizens.

Bygob knew that escaping would be hard, but it was certainly possible.

Bygob packed his bazgrack10 and decided to set out. Luckily, he lived near the border of his district, so the nearest exit out of The Radiation provides some crazy weather.

A newly designed backpack able to grow and shrink of command, able to carry whatever needed.

9

10

11

Peppermint Rooster Review

Complex was only ghree miles away from his house. Going ghree miles was no difficult task for Bygob, but surviving the PoP, The One, and other citizens was the real challenge. Now Bygob never found a need to own a shpet11 because he thought killing and violence were far too primal. For this trip, however, he brought one of his xyves just in case his life was in danger. With his bazgrack and xyfe12 Bygob felt somewhat prepared for his journey. He started by sneaking around his house and hid behind his neighbor’s house.

Bygob then set out in a well-paced run behind the row of houses.

Once making it into town he ducked behind buildings moving only through alleys. While in an alley behind the local Zfoeej13 a waster grabbed Bygob with his four arms and pinned him against the wall.

The mutant then started at Bygob very intently and asked, “Are you one of us?”

Bygob quickly replied, “Oh of course brother!”

The mutant released his grip with a sign of relief explain that he was glad to see a fellow member.

Bygob, without hesitation lied, saying, “I’m going to go look for more members, so uh…. Make sure to hide somewhere safe!

They’re trying to kill us out here.”

The mutant then replied, “Well you know that there is a place outside The Complex that is safe right?” This had shocked Bygob because up until this point his plan had been to hopefully find a place that could shelter him from the radiation. Humans could be out in the radiation for short periods of time, but any longer than Gne hour would result in mutations like wasters have. Bygob asked the mutant where this haven was located. The mutant explained that if Bygob was to leave The Complex through the main exit in this district, he would need to head to the Reest for Geven miles. He should then find a bunker and if he shows his mark the inhabitants will allow him entry. Bygob did not want to be associated with this terrorist group, but if it was the only way of survival, he might have to join them. He thanked the waster and kept moving.

His next stop was inside The Oxoplctyl, one of the lesser bars in the distract. This is where Bygob found his best friend Eneep, Any type of firearm, most commonly used when referring to handguns.

11

A simple kitchen knife that would be a horrible choice in a fight.

A combination of a bank and a shoe store. No one is really sure why this was even a concept, but the public sure does seem to like it.

12 13

12

Volume 8, Spring 2020

who was a PoP officer. After beating on a One member into the floor, Eneep noticed Bygob and yelled out his name. Eneep ran to Bygob exclaiming, “Oh my Mleez14 man I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” Bygob was happy to see his friend, however, he realized that he had just seen his best friend kill another living person.

Eneep, completely unaffected by taking the terrorist’s life, asked Bygob, “So where have you been? I was really worried that the terrorist group might have nabbed you up or that someone might have mistakenly killed you.” While thinking about how to reply Bygob scratched his head, to which Eneep interjected, “Hey you wouldn’t mind if I searched you for a mark right?” This was exactly what Bygob did not want to happen, his best friend might now become his biggest enemy.

He replied, “Well um…”

Eneep realized that his best friend who he had known since childhood standing in front of him, was legally a terrorist. With tears beginning to flow Eneep faintly said, “Come on man not you right?

Right?” His quiet tone had now raised drastically in volume as he cried out, “Not you man come on! Why Bygob? Don’t make me do this man please!” Eneep raised his baton towards Bygob, “It’s my job Bygob. You know I don’t want to do this come on!”

Bygob was saddened, but also angry by how quickly Eneep had chosen his job over his best friend. As if his life was not bad enough, his best friend had now abandoned him. He faced Eneep emptily and pulled the xyfe out of his bazgrack. Bygob knew how this would end, and it was not good for Eneep. Bygob starred Eneep down and said, “I’m sorry that our friendship has to end this way, but I think we’re just on different paths.” Eneep charged at Bygob with his baton and swung hard for his head. Shocking both parties, Bygob grabbed the baton with his hand that was now completely black. He had not noticed how much the mark had spread or how much it had been changing him. For the first time in his life Bygob felt truly powerful. Eneep starred in awe at how easily Bygob had stopped a swing from his baton with all the strength he had. Bygob let out a slight chuckle before ramming his xyfe deep into Eneep’s stomach. Without saying a word Bygob pulled out the xyfe and beMleez was the figurehead of The Complex’s most common religion, Mleezlinity. It is said that Mleez himself invented the first ever letter and was immediately crucified for doing so.

15 Fuck 14

13

Peppermint Rooster Review

gan walking away.

Eneep, who was now bleedings everywhere, cried out, “How can you just leave me like this!? What the nzzk15 is wrong with you!?”

Bygob gazed into his vacant hand then looked over at Eneep.

“You. Chose. Your. Fate,” retorted Bygob. He then left the Oxoplyctl with Eneep dying on the floor. Part of Bygob did feel some remorse for killing his best friend, but he was mostly excited by the power that this mark had given him. He started thinking that maybe should side with these “terrorists.” After all The Complex just made him feel like another cog in the machine, while “The One” had given him something to feel proud of. Something that gave him an emotional response.

While making his way through the rest of the district Bygob encountered around gour more PoP officers who he slaughtered without hesitation. He also killed ghree citizens who were stupid enough to side with The Complex. By this poit Bygob was now at the city gate where he found most of the district’s inhabitants. Standing in front of exit was a line of PoP officers equipped with batons. On the other side with Bygob stood the rest of the citizens who were all yelling at the PoP. Some citizens wanted protection, some wanted to escape, and some wanted to fight. Both sides were stuck at a standstill and no one wanted to make the first move. Bygob pushed through the crowd, making his way to the front where he stood between the PoP and the citizens. Bygob stood there and removed his poncho exposing his mark that now went up to his elbow. He raised his arm into the arm, and along with him almost everyone in the crowd did the same. Bygob turned towards the PoP officers and smiled as the crowd rushed past him attacking the officers. Bygob wanted to stay and help the crowd kill the officers, but he needed to escape and find the people the mutant told him about. During the fighting he pushed his way past everyone and made it out of The Complex.

Bygob was finally free. He was no longer a slave to an overpowering government. He was no longer some idiot who sat in an office naming bathroom cleaner every day. He was now on his own path, and path he himself had chosen, not one The Complex picked for him.

While all of this was great to think about, Bygob needed to think about where he was going. He could not remember whether the mutant said to go Jest or Reest. He did not even know what direction he was currently facing. Therefore, he hoped for the best and set off. Being out the desert, it was far too warm for Bygob to wear all his clothes, so he removed everything he was wearing. Exposing all his skin now showed 14

Volume 8, Spring 2020

that his entire arm and lower half of his body were entirely black. After walking for what felt like Gen hours Bygob could tell that the radiation was affecting him. His head was pounding, and his legs would give out soon. He kept walking even more, then he finally saw something in the distance. Bygob wearily said to himself, “I see the shelter, just a little bit further…”

Epilogue The Complex was taken over by “The One” after fighting for an entire moth. “The One” formed a new government, giving citizens freedom for using simple one syllable language as opposed to the convoluted idiocy The Complex considered words. Their first order as the new government was to go out and find Bygob. What “The One” had never told Bygob was that he was their first recruitment, this explained why he had so much power. What Bygob was also unaware of was that for “The One” to receive enough power and members, the first would be sacrificed essentially becoming “The One.” Bygob unintentionally made the ultimate sacrifice and saved the citizens of The Complex. Search parties ended up finding Bygob’s body after searching for gwo weeks. He was found standing tall reaching up towards the Sun and his body was pitch black and solid as stone. Once recovered, he was placed in the center of the newly titled City. Bygob had become a symbol of hope and individuality for future citizens of The City. Underneath him was a plaque that said, “Bygob, The One for All.”16

16

Bygob would have hated this ending.

15

Peppermint Rooster Review

Told by [ ] Revised by Nigel Hilgert And the Angels Cry Out, Trumpets Blaring; Tears Fall Down My Face, For I Love You: Second Edition First and foremost, I want to thank you, Dear Listener, for taking the time to enjoy this little story I am currently telling. As your Artful Narrator, I promise to tell you this story with the highest degree of validity and accuracy. Now I am certain you are a bit puzzled by your current situation… Oh forgive me the microphone was turned off. You have not heard a thing I said.

Allow me to repeat myself. First and foremost, I want to thank you, Dear Listener, for taking the time to enjoy this little story I am telling. As your Artful Narrator, I promise to tell you this story with the highest degree of validity and accuracy. Now I am certain you are a bit puzzled by your current situation, so I will explain. You are in a homemade sensory deprivation room, wearing a straitjacket, a blindfold, and you have noise cancelling headphones that allow me to speak to you. I also have a night vision camera in the room which allows me to see you. I completely understand your panicking. After all, that was a lot to take in. I will give you some time to settle and think things over.

I have given you nine minutes to collect yourself. I know you have numerous questions for me, so ask away. …

Ah yes, how did you get in your current situation. Simple; you did this to yourself. Don’t you remember?1 …

You don’t? I’m sorry I can’t make you remember.2 You’ll just have to take my word for it. I also noticed that you kept asking who I was. I have already told you; I am the narrator of this story. The figurehead of your journey, your savior if you will. If you trust me and follow me down this fruitful path, I can promise you that we will be finished in only one hour and thirteen minutes. Now I know you’re asking me what this “journey” is, so let me explain. You have I’ve been told this story has a strange cult following and I’m now starting to understand why. I certainly have a few questions for whoever the author of such fiction is.

2 I finished the most boring shift of work today. However, I thought I heard coworkers talking about this story. Maybe I’m just hearing what I want to.

1

16

Volume 8, Spring 2020

the time stated above to figure out my identity. I plan on making this task as challenging as possible for you by giving you the smallest amount of detail I can. Sure, this seems unfair, but my name is only one word. Certainly, that isn’t impossible right? You seem a little upset by this, so I will give you twelve minutes to recollect and think of possible names for me. …

During the time I gave you I heard a few of your guesses. I’m sorry to let you know that “Asshole, Scumbag, Mother Fucker, and Piece of Shit” are not my name. Your tone of voice also seems to have quite a bit of anger behind it. Do you possibly need more time? …

You know I hate seeing you this angry, I really do. It tears me apart inside, but as I’ve already stated you must get my name right.

That’s the only way I can let you out. …

Now that was an interesting guess. “Murderer.” What a truly foul word. You’ve left an awful taste in my mouth after that one. You vile cretin. How dare you think so criminally of me.3 If you choose to think of me as a “murderer,” you can just shake your headphones off right now. I’m serious. If want to call me a murderer I’m done with you, this story is over.4 However, if you choose to understand how insulting your guess was and try a little harder on you next one, I will continue speaking to you. Be aware you are on a very fine line with me. …

“Insane.” This guess is very uncreative. Clearly you thought, “This guy has kidnapped me and he’s holding me hostage! I don’t know where I am! I’m going to die in here!” Isn’t everyone insane in their own way? But seriously, grow up. A person shows one sign of something different from normal and they’re instantly crazy? What a sad world this is. A world where we frown upon others for being expressive and unique.

I mean, look at philosophers and scientists throughout history.

Constantly laughed at and mocked by the public for their ideas because they clashed against the norm. Imagine how insufferable our world would be if we didn’t have great thinkers like Friedrich How does this surprise you so much? You said you’ve locked this guy in a room so wouldn’t human instinct be that he’s going to die?

4 I don’t think the story has even started yet.

3

17

Peppermint Rooster Review

Nietzsche. Quoted with saying, “If you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss will stare back at you.” May I just say what a statement.

Mysterious. Dark. Gloomy. Quite different from the Christianity popular during his time. With a saying like, “God is dead.” You know the public thought he was crazy for such a bold statement.

I envy how revolutionary he was, I truly do. Was he saying such obscure thing to just play devil’s advocate or was he crazy? Wait.

Turns out he was crazy. I guess this changes my point a little bit, but you still understand what I meant. Like sometimes the crazy ideas end up being what works?

Whatever, going back to your guess of “insane” for my identity, you’re wrong. I feel like I could use a break after rambling on for that long. You should’ve told me to stop. …

Today’s date? Interesting. I wasn’t expecting you to ask that. It is September 9th, 2018.5 …

What is wrong with you why are you suddenly screaming? Oh, I see. You’ve found the friend I put in your room. It looks like he brushed up against your leg. Did you seriously think I would leave you all alone in that cold, wet room? Please, even I’m not that cruel.

I am surprised, however, that you haven’t been able to sense him from the water ripples. You do know there’s two inches of water on the floor, right? …

Okay calm down. Your little “friend” in there isn’t harmful at all.

To be honest this is the first time he’s moved since we started. Don’t worry though6 he went back in the corner. …

Hey, I didn’t want you to be alone in a dark room. What’s so wrong with that? Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. I’ve told you that you’re on a very thin line with me. These accusations need to stop.

This is wrong, and while I’m speaking, I have noticed a lot of people acting differently lately. I get the feeling that everyone knows something I don’t. I mean it’s clearly anxiety, but it just seems a little too real.

6 My name is Robbi, sorry for not mentioning that earlier. A “friend” of mine had given this book to me; said everyone had been reading it and that no one is really sure what is it about. I guess I’m now your fateful narrator. I really won’t be narrating anything. I’m just going to let you know what I think as I’m reading.

5

18

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Now if we may continue, it has only been twenty-three minutes.

Therefore, I can take up a small amount of your time to go off topic.

I7 understand I have asked you a ton of questions already, but how did you feel when you woke up? I imagine it is quite strange waking up an having all your senses gone. You must feel nothing right now. See, you didn’t even feel your friend touching you just now.

Do you still feel human? I mean seriously, after what you’ve done I would be ashamed to show my face in public. Enlighten me, what is a world with no feeling like? Empty? Pointless? …

Well what do you feel like then? Here maybe you could answer this. What led you here? Is this some divine punishment from God himself? Clearly, you’re going to think that I put you here. Maybe someone you don’t even know could have put you here? Or maybe, you’ve put yourself here. That is very fun to think about, don’t you agree? If you’re in charge of your life, why let something like this happen? Because you are pathetic. You’ve put yourself in this position. …8 With that figured out, we now must answer the simplest question. Why? Who would want to have all their senses taken away and be locked in a room stuck listening to me? Do you have a bondage kink?9 Maybe you just wanted to try something new? Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to think you’d be getting paid for doing this? Is there a possibility you wanted to hear my story? If that’s the case and you can find a cohesive story in all this, then I think you’re looking into this a little too much.

Now from what I can remember this story was found on a shelf in the library at my town’s local college. I never went to college, but my “friend” who goes there ended up getting me a copy. I guess it has kind of become an urban legend in our town. I’m really not one to believe in this type of stuff, but this story seems strangely real. Like some type of snuff shit.

8 The other day I met this attractive girl at a bar, and we got to talking about our lives and stuff. After a while she just stopped and asked me if I had ever read this story. I find it very hard to believe that this urban legend is actually this popular. I mean wasn’t this thing was written in the 80s or something. Wouldn’t people have forgotten it by now?

9 While walking back home from the bar I stopped by the gas station, since my smokes were running low. I was looking for a drink when I started talking to this girl. Funny enough her name was Robby with a “y.” I always thought it would be weird to marry someone with the name as me. Robbi and Robby [ ]. That night I went home with Robby.

7

19

Peppermint Rooster Review

…

Yes, my story has its secrets, but if you search for what isn’t there, you’ll get lost. Once lost you won’t recover; trapped in a maze of words. Would you believe that you aren’t the first to hear this story? Only a couple of others have listened to this, two of them were lost and one couldn’t finish it. I did feel bad for that last one. He simply couldn’t handle the tasks that come with this story. What freaked him out the most was how questionable his reality became. I’m sure I’ve said things that made you question my validity. However, I told you at the start I would only tell you the truth. If I were lying you would be able to tell. I promise you that. …

Another thing I feel you need to know. Everything is intentional10. I understand that the format of my story might be a little challenging at times, but do not get discouraged. You will probably also think I am making all sorts of mistakes. Trust me, I am highly aware of my actions. …

Sorry11 about that, I figured that I just needed to make that clear.

Now I want to give you something to think about. What will you do when I let you out? How will you remember this experience? Would the police even believe you? You have no evidence, and you still don’t know who I am. Is this something you would feel comfortable telling your family about? Imagine what your parents would think if they saw you right now; how embarrassing. On a serious note, are you going to require therapy after this? I do hope I haven’t troubled you that much. That would be interesting hearing about this from a therapist’s perspective. Picture you’re a therapist12 and you have a patient tell you that they were locked in a room with all their senses taken away and had a person telling them a story. I mean come on, who’s going believe that?

I really don’t think he’s referring to me when he mentions the Dear Reader.

I ended up getting really close with Robby and seeing her a few more times after that one night. I haven’t heard from her recently. She has my number and I’ve tried calling her, but I never get an answer. Dial tone every time.

12 I really want to ask my “friend” some of the questions I’ve had while reading this.

He told me back in the day when students first found this story there was a rumor going around that a page of notes existed. No one ever found it, but it was said that the author had explained everything in the notes and what the story meant. An urban legend with more rumored text; nothing but fiction if you ask me.

10 11

20

Volume 8, Spring 2020

…

I honestly think that is the scariest part about this. No one will take your side. You’ll live with constant PTSD, never able to share it out of fear from other’s judgment. Rather sad isn’t it? Stuck living the life of a helpless victim,13 unable to share your horror story. Yes, there will be people who take your side and comfort you, if you chose to share this experience. Will it be out of pity though? Or will it be genuine sympathy? True sympathy is a rare thing to come by these days. Maybe you could write your own story? That would be an excellent idea. From the award-winning writer, [ ], comes a story of utmost truth, Forced to Listen. In a way I could be making you famous from this, so you’re welcome for that. Just make sure you refer to me as Artful Narrator. …

No, I actually haven’t considered that. How quaint.14 …15 I almost forgot that you were trying to guess my name. I will admit that a Bibliomaniac could apply to me, but it’s not who I am. I do love reading and studying literature. And your other guess of Idiot was oddly clever. I don’t think you mean this guess to be a mere insult. I believe you were genuine because of how often I speak down to you and how little faith I have in you. You mean that I am an idiot for not believing in your human will, the idea that no16 matter what I put you through I had to move houses again. Ever since I had to leave my foster family a couple of years ago, I’ve been squatting. I can usually stay in a house for about a month before someone calls the cops on me for trespassing.

14 I had to take a break from this thing; some stuff came up. I went back and looked over some stuff, but I kept finding things that I missed the first time. Like why would this take place on such a specific date, especially if it was supposedly found in the 80s? Things just aren’t adding up. It’s like I’m reading a completely different story.

15 One of my favorite memories was the day I finally got adopted. I think I was around four or five when the nicest couple came in to visit me. I was a younger couple in their thirties; infertile. They were so nice to me and they had the sweetest dog. They made sure to be very careful when talking about my real family because of the trauma I still have. I stayed with that foster family until I was nineteen but ended up running away. I don’t feel comfortable saying why I left them, but I am thankful that they adopted me. One of few happy memories.

16 My money has been running super low lately, my warehouse job isn’t giving me enough shifts. Come to think of it I don’t even remember the last time I worked. I feel like maybe last Monday or Tuesday, which would mean today is a Saturday?

Regardless, I need to make money somehow. I’d do anything for some fucking food or cigarettes. I think I need another break from this thing.

13

21

Peppermint Rooster Review

you will be strong and survive. Well I don’t believe that. I know you.

And I know you aren’t that strong. I picked you because you are weak. This would be a monumentally different game if I had chosen someone with strong perseverance and will. I am very thankful for how emotionally weak you are. …

You have thirty-two minutes left to guess my name. At this point I don’t expect you to get it. You’ve17 been looking into this too much. After all I have told you my name already. I know you didn’t notice. Even telling you now you still won’t see it. Go ahead, read back through everything I’ve said. It’s there, you just don’t see it.18 …

Nothing19 to say? I guess you weren’t expecting that. You look shocked. Did I really confuse you that much? This makes my story so much more interesting. I bet you’ll really pay attention to me after that. And no, I won’t say it again don’t even ask. Either guess it or look back and figure it out. Oh that’s right, how could you look back if your in the dark? What a tragedy. …

If I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve challenged you enough with this story. I’ve figured out a fun game, so enjoy this.

9,12,25,25,18 2,12,6 16,13,12,4 18 8,7,18,15,15 24,26,9,22 26,25,12,6,7 2,12,6. 11,15,22,26,8,22 24,12,14,22 19,12,14,22 7,12 14,22 8,12,12,13 18 14,18,8,8 2,12,6 8,12 14,6,24,19. 18,5,22 25,22,22,13 15,12,12,16,18,13,20 21,12,9 2,12,6 22,5,22,9,2,4,19,22,9,22. 18,14 8,12,9,9,2 21,12,9 22,5,22,9,2,7,19,18,13,20 7,19,26,7,8 19,26,11,11,22,13,22,23 8,12,13

4,18,7,19 15,12,5,22 23,26,23

To be honest I’m not sure what I would do if I ever saw my mom and dad again.

I would probably punch my dad in the stomach and ask my mom why she blamed me. I wouldn’t listen to them though; I would just enjoy seeing them feel how I’ve felt all these years.

18 This took me awhile to find, but it is there. You need to piece some stuff together.

It’s possible, but you won’t be able to figure it out. I promise you that.

19 I’ve been smoking up to a pack and a half a day. When I got home it took me ten minutes to realize the lights weren’t even turned on. There are cigarette butts all over my floor and burn holes all over these pages. Even with words missing I still know what it says after all.

17

22

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Well I do hope you thought that was as fun as I did. However, you only have three minutes left to finish my game.20 I suppose you shouldn’t have spent so much time attempting to figure what I said in that paragraph. You should have been pondering more guesses.

That is what you’re here for. I didn’t bring you here to figure out what that paragraph means, in fact pretend that it isn’t even there.

Ignore it if possible. The clock21 is ticking and I’m going to give you one final guess. I would like to hear this guess in person, so allow me to get up from my chair. Oh, now you’re really confused. The water on the floor has shifted and it wasn’t because of your “friend.”

It was because of me. Because I am in the room with you. This is how you’ve been able to hear me. You don’t have headphones or a blind fold on. You’re simply in a pitch-black room with your arms tied up. But as I mentioned with my previous Listener, your world is now falling apart. Everything you had been told was wrong, or was it that I simply put a spin on it? You’ve backed yourself into a corner. You ran out of time. You never guessed right.22 There is now a gun pointed at you. I’ve chosen where to aim the gun, now you may move left or right. …

What a fascinating choice.23

I haven’t been able to find a place to stay for awhile now. I am hoping the next town over might have some condemned houses or something. I’ve been losing weight and not eating enough. All the money I get is from things I don’t want to admit doing. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here.

21 I broke into a building and there must have been someone living there because I found a decent amount of money stashed away. I went to the local convenient care about my health. I got some pills to help with my head and weight loss. After two months I’m actually close to my normal weight again and only smoke two cigarettes a day. The doctor said that if I can keep this up, I should be able to beat my nicotine addiction in six months. I did end up going to the next town over.

22 I wish I knew where Robby was. I think I’ve started smoking more since she left.

23 Yeah I figured that was your name, [ ].

20

23

Peppermint Rooster Review

Ashtyn Britt A True Horror Story I’m burning behind the eyes, Flamed by what I see.

For it is the image of a living ghost Staring back at me.

The red blurs my vision and leave her lips A moving mystery of curses.

My deaf ears are screaming.

My adrenaline is rising and my voice is raising, Yet in a crowd of the living, Nobody can hear me.

I’m burning behind the eyes, Flamed by what I see.

For it is the image of a living ghost, And the living ghost is me.

Ashtyn Britt Road Map You’re a local traveler.

You know every inch of this land, But you still love exploring.

Every detail, every paint chip, every weed grown, Somehow can’t get past you.

It’s almost like looking at the same features, You see something new every time.

You find all the beauty in an ugly world.

You know every curve, nook, and cranny.

You are the one who draws the lines, Dividing and conquering.

You are the king of the castle, And are the only cartographer The world could ever want.

24

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Ashtyn Britt Abstract The heart of an artist, The hunger of a wolf.

I want to be your Mona Lisa, and be painted in your colors.

I want the bright pink of your lips.

I want the soft chocolate brown of your eyes.

I want your skilled hands to use your best brushes.

Paint my skin in shades of cool blue, like the ocean, the sky, and the rarest moon.

I want to be your masterpiece.

Lay me as your canvas, bare and waiting for your brilliant mind to flourish.

Run your gentle fingers through my hair, as if it were soft as the clouds parting for the rainbow.

Make me feel as royal as purple, and bold as orange.

Yellow as sunflowers.

Red as passion.

Paint me.

My Vincent Van Gogh, my Pablo Picasso, my Andy Warhol, my Leonardo da Vinci.

Please, please paint me.

Give me a new definition, sculpt me to perfection, make me in your artistic vision.

We could be quite a work of art.

25

Peppermint Rooster Review

Mary DuPureur The Effects of Having Type 1 Diabetes

26

On Easter of 2000, I was rushed to Cardinal Glennon Hospital because I was very weak, extremely thirsty and had lost a lot of weight. After arriving, my parents got me checked in and then I was taken back to a room. As I was laying there in the bed, I was barely able to stay awake and just as I had woken back up the doctor had come in to speak with my parents to let them know what the test results were. That’s when they informed my parents that I had an extremely high blood sugar and was lucky to still be conscious because of how high my blood glucose levels were.

I was then diagnosed as being type 1 diabetic, also known as juvenile diabetes. Later that day, I learned that it meant that I’d be taking a lot of insulin shots. I didn’t realize until recently some of the negative effects of having diabetes: the denial of employment, health complications and how complicated managing it is on top of a busy schedule.

I’ve recently come to learn that type 1 diabetes alone can get me denied a job. I never would have thought that I would ever hear the words that the place I applied for is denying me the job offer because I’m too much of a liability due to my type 1 diabetes. It was early December of 2018 when I had gotten the call for an interview to work at Beverly Farms, where I had applied to be a resident assistant. As I headed for my interview, I was very excited because then I would be able to be working closer to the health field helping people that need it. When the interview had ended, I was informed to come back for the testing portion of the job. I returned on the day of the testing, which was a reading comprehension exam that I passed. Next was a physical; I started to worry about what all they would be checking. As I was still waiting for it, they had me take a drug test, which, of course, I passed with flying colors. Then they called me back to do a physical–I passed every part except when they found out I am diabetic. The lady told me that I would be too much of a liability if they hired me. I had told her that I haven’t had a diabetic issue since back when I was first diagnosed about eighteen years ago. She continued to tell me that I was a liability because I could have a heart attack while watching a client and that I could end up passing out while taking care of the client. Looking back on it now, I

Volume 8, Spring 2020

wish I would have told her how a person who eats greasy fattening foods could also have a heart attack, but they don’t ask questions like, “What do you eat on a regular basis?” So, I left that job screening with nothing but tears, disappointment and the feeling of how it isn’t fair because I didn’t ask for this disease. The next opportunity happened October 2019. I kept receiving recruitment emails from the military reserves which shouldn’t have come as a shocker that diabetes made me an automatic fail, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to email them back just to see if maybe I could just be wrong. As I typed up the email to send back to the recruitment officer, I unfortunately got hopeful. Patiently, I waited and then as the day went on, I got a little more impatient to see what the answer to my question would be. “Is having type 1 diabetes an automatic disqualifier to join the reserves?” was my question.

When I received the email, I hurried up and opened it just to find that I shouldn’t have had an ounce of hope. The email had said that they were sorry, but that is an automatic disqualifier. Once again, I was denied an opportunity all because of my diabetes in which I didn’t even ask for.

Having type I diabetes comes with eventually encountering the health complications that follow. As everyone knows, diabetes comes with a whole list of complications especially if you don’t properly maintain your blood sugars in the appropriate target ranges. However, some of these issues still occur depending on how long you’ve had the disease and if your blood glucose levels are controlled. One of the many health complications I deal with from diabetes occurred recently when going to get my eyes reexamined after pregnancy. I went to the exam that day for a recheck on my eyes, but I wasn’t expecting the news I received. The doctor, like any other examine day, took me back to a room, looked at my eyes, and had me read a few letters on the chart. Then he dilated my eyes and I had to wait to let the drops of the solution sit in my eyes for a few before he’d look at them again. Upon looking at them again he kept examining each eye multiple times and then eventually mentioned that he wanted to get a picture of my eyes to make sure what he believed he was seeing was correct. Once he had the picture and he confirmed what he was seeing to be true, he then had me look at the picture with him to show me that there are some aneurysms in my eyes closest to the important part of the eye. Then he explained how if the one closest to that particular part were to burst, I would be 27

Peppermint Rooster Review

blind in that eye. Now, I must see the eye doctor more than just yearly to make sure those spots in my eyes haven’t gotten any worse. To add to the health complications that diabetes brings is a rare one called Necrobiosis Lipoidica Diabeticorum or NLD for short. This condition occurs only on the shins and it is basically my own body attacking its fat cells. It is a sometimes scaly and other times shiny red patch that sometimes will itch. There are times where the spots of NLD will start to hurt so bad that it will feel as if my shin bone is going to break dead in the center popping out of the thinned skin. Unfortunately, this condition is not only disturbing due to its pain and discomfort it causes, but also visually unappealing. Most people (including adults) will stare as they do their best to avoid you like it is contagious–which it isn’t. I know those aren’t all the health complications diabetes can cause, but they are the main ones I’m currently dealing with at this point in time.

Lastly, managing diabetes on top of a busy schedule becomes very complicated. My daily schedule isn’t as set in stone as I would like for it to be since a set schedule is what works best for diabetes. If you’re diabetic, you’re supposed to wake up at the same time each day, check your fasting blood sugar at that exact time, then eat breakfast at the same time every day–same goes for lunch and dinner. Also, I have to make sure that I write down every blood sugar that I check so I can give it to my doctor. I am supposed to make sure to check my blood glucose before each meal, take my insulin for my blood glucose and carbohydrates and count my carbs making sure they are the same each meal every day for the rest of my life. Well, that’s not how my life goes; instead, I wake up in a rush making sure to give my son his morning heart medicine and my oldest daughter her medicine before she walks to her bus stop for school. Next, I get my son ready for his school and then we wait for his bus. Once his bus arrives, I walk him to his bus and help him get on. The bus monitor helper takes my son’s hand and walks him to his seat as I’m walking back to my front door. I head back in my house as his bus pulls away, and then I immediately start getting a bottle ready for my youngest daughter. I grab a diaper to start changing her; once I’m finished changing her diaper, I start feeding her. This process with her will typically take an hour and sometimes a little longer.

By the time I’m done feeding her it has already been four hours that I have been awake without even checking my blood sugar 28

Volume 8, Spring 2020

once. Finally, I get to check my blood sugar, and, by this time, they are usually heading into the high numbers because of stress levels already going up for the day. I then push into my insulin pump my blood sugar number to take insulin for it. After this, I start in working on my homework assignments to get them done for next class period. As I’m doing my assignments an hour to two pass and then it’s back to changing and feeding my daughter again. Then another hour passes, and I’m finally done feeding her, but now it is about 1:00pm. Depending on the day, I’ll either have to rush to get ready for work and go to work, or rush to get ready for school and head to school. After school, I’ll rush back home to get my children off the bus and by that time, I have only checked my blood sugar once. Finally, while waiting on my children’s bus allows me time to remember this and then I do an evening blood glucose. All while rushing through my day, my only support is from my husband who is usually busy working his forty-hour weeks. If he’s not working, then he’s catching up on sleep. We don’t have any friends or family that ever help out.

For the days I rush to work, once I’m there and have the bar open for customers, I’ll then remember and do a late afternoon check.

Then there are the times that I eat and will be in a rush, so I forget to check because I’ll get busy with either taking care of one of my children or all of my children. I could also get busy with schoolwork or getting ready to head out to go somewhere. As a result of the hectic schedule my diabetes will sometimes take a backseat until everything is handled first.

Diabetes can have some negative effects such as getting denied jobs, cause health complications and can even be complicated to manage on a busy schedule. However, if I start to try to manage my time a little better it could make at least controlling it a bit better. As far as jobs go, they will either hire me or not.

There’s nothing I can do to control that outcome. The health complications from diabetes eventually will catch up to you after awhile, so I’ll just do my best to manage my blood glucose levels and hope for the best. I hope that one day they will have a cure, but until then I’ll stay positive and hopeful.

29

Peppermint Rooster Review

Krystie Morrison The Photograph I Wish I Could Capture It was a dark night in the city. A friend and I were walking back to our home after a night out with others. The streets were abandoned.

Everyone was either tucked in safely or enjoying a nice whiskey on the rocks with acquaintances. As we continued down the cobblestone street, I happened to notice the moon resting above the treeline.

My friend, in his drunken state, sang a tune he heard as a boy as loud as he could. He continued walking, but by the time he was finished with his tune, he had managed to be several feet in front of me and in the middle of the street.

He finished singing with his hands in the air as if he were on stage.

The moon casting a glow over him in just the right way. This is the photograph I wish I could capture.

30

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Samantha Moore Our Mansion Adventure Honestly, I am just about the most boring person there is. About 99% of the time, I am the most boring person in the room. I don’t do much. Besides going to Huntsville, Alabama for Space Camp in eighth grade and my annual trips to a weird part of Missouri to see my dad’s family, I don’t travel. I have only been to maybe three concerts in my entire eighteen years of being alive and I rarely even leave the state (unless it’s to get gas over the Clark Bridge for ten cents cheaper than in Godfrey. And again, the Missouri thing). It’s just how I was raised and how my parents will always be; so, I guess that might be a solid reason as to why I am the same, lame way. So when I seldom do something out of my introverted-comfort-zone, I like to think I gain “cool” points or something. But sometimes, I can be pretty adventurous when I really, really want to be.

About two years ago, during the summer before my senior year of high school, it was early in the day (so, noon) and my best friend at the time and I were just doing what we normally did on a fartoo-hot day of a continuously-lazy summer: nothing. We were just inside, soaking up the AC, watching Shane Dawson on YouTube.

Like losers.

It was quite a prepossessing day. The sky was a perfect baby blue color and there were maybe three puffy, cotton-ball clouds in the sky. So that meant there were none blocking the punishment of the sun’s rays. But nonetheless, it was a nice day.

I, for no good reason, had a generous layer of clogging makeup applied to my very sweaty face. I kept blotting it with a portion of a tissue while simultaneously querying my friend as to what she wanted to do that day.

“It’s way too nice to be inside all day, Kelcey,” I said to my equally-as-sweaty friend as were we both on her couch right next to each other. She had her long, dirty-blonde hair pulled up so it wouldn’t make her neck any sweatier. Fanning her face, my friend looked at me. She was lying down as I was sitting up and she had her pale, long legs on top of mine. Double the sweat.

“Yeah, I know,” she returned, as she sat up and let her posture match mine. “I don’t know what to do, though. We’re both broke, dude.”

That’s exactly what we were. Two broke, jobless dummies

31

Peppermint Rooster Review

waiting for something interesting to pop up so we can tag-a-log in hopes of a fun time.

What can we do? We literally have no money. I thought for a minute or so and mentally thought of all the places we have been talking about wanting to go to. Either to take pictures or try to summon some “ghosts” or something. Neither of us believed in anything of that nature, we just thought it would be interesting to try new things.

“Actually, wait!” Kelcey excitedly exclaimed to me as she immediately stood up. “The mansion, remember? We said we need to go to that abandoned mansion that everyone’s been going to, right?”

Oh my god! I totally forgot.

The abandoned mansion was just that. A who-knows-how-longsince-anyone-lived-here “mansion” located somewhere by the Piasa Bird painting off the River Road in Alton. We had no idea where, though. We knew the place was rather big; solely because we had seen a variety of pictures from random Instagram accounts. That’s all we really knew about it. Besides the fact that it was destroyed.

Completely destroyed.

We knew the entire place was spray-painted to death and everything was pulled out of the walls, the floor and the ceiling. The entire venue was irreversibly trashed. Most-likely because of the number of people going up there to do harm to the place and or get high off of who-knows-what in the comfort of their own solitude. But we had only seen it in pictures and we really just wanted to see why this demolished location was such a tourist destination.

“Dude!” I basically scream at my friend while gripping her arms aggressively in excitement. “We have to go! I totally forgot!” I suddenly got extremely excited for one so introverted. I genuinely wanted to see this place and all its dirty, trashed, spray-painted glory.

“So let’s go! Literally right now!” And by “right now” we absolutely meant “in about an hour or so”, because we needed to eat an abundance of snacks and “get cute”. Meaning we needed to touch up our makeup and tuck our shirts in to look presentable for no one.

So of course that took an hour and a half.

After a little freak-out session, consisting of us patting ourselves on the back for thinking of such a great idea, our party-of-two got ready by adjusting our improper mansion hunting outfits. We adjusted our stylish tank-tops and high-waisted shorts as well as powdered our faces more than once. To accentuate our already-near-perfect outfits, we added any accessory we deemed cute enough. Of course 32

Volume 8, Spring 2020

any good process of getting ready includes telling yourself how cute you and your best friend look; so that is precisely what we did for almost half an hour. The last step of our process was giving our faces multiple spritz of setting spray to stop our makeup from sweating off and then we practically ran out the door; out into the merciless summer heat. The start of a new adventure.

Excited, Kelcey plopped all of her belongings she deemed necessary for this journey into the cramped backseat of my run-down, silver PT Cruiser. She slammed the passenger seat door in anxiety-filled excitement as she dropped into the chair notorious for ancient cigarette burns and cat hair. She positioned her feet onto the dash, covering the stickers I stuck everywhere around that spot as she decided what music to play for the trip. I flumped into the driver’s seat as Kelcey turned on the small blue-tooth speaker she gave to me for Christmas. Selecting her “roadtrip ! :)” playlist, Kelcey got comfortable in her chair as I turned the old car on and blasted the AC as hard as the car would let me. Here we go.

The only thing I remember thinking in that very moment was, I really hope Crystal can make it there. Crystal being my car, of course. I had never driven her anywhere like the river road before and I wasn’t sure how she’d react to speeding however fast those cars usually go. Way over the speed limit that’s posted, that’s for sure.

I quickly disregarded any fear or doubt I was having and I set off. My loud, janky car made its way out of Kelcey’s inconveniently-small drive-way with less struggle than usual and I took that as a sign that today was going to be a good day. With my best friend by my side and a lifetime-supply of makeup in the backseat, I was ready to take on the world. Or at least this mansion. One step at a time.

Fortunately for Crystal’s small gas-tank, Kelcey lived in Alton so the trip would be quite short. Around eight minutes or so. Not really a “road trip”. . .more so an excursion. But we really got in the groove so it was our little adventure. Just a fun girls’ day, if anything.

After about five minutes on the river road, we came in view of the Piasa Bird painting and we practically screamed. No, we wailed.

Wailed out of need for adventure. We couldn’t contain our excitement. Our lazy selves were just screaming our way into this adventure, it seemed. We probably looked crazy. Little did we know that our excitement was a little premature.

I loudly pulled off of the road and into the tourist site that was 33

Peppermint Rooster Review

this huge boulder painting and parked a few spaces away from a random car full of what looked to be middle-aged dads. Directly in the middle of our two cars was a flattened Little Caesar’s pizza box and a random Root Beer can standing up right. What a fantastic start.

Kelcey and myself, sweatier than when we started, got out of the sauna that was my car and just started to look around. I knew this place wouldn’t be completely obvious. I had been to the Piasa Bird countless times and I had never seen a mansion before so I knew it would be hidden somewhere if it was here at all. I looked around for any hills or man-made pathways or something to tell me we were at the right place. I suddenly remembered my friend and looked over at her as she shared the same concerns as me. Or at least I assumed she did because her facial expressions mirrored my own.

“So. . .where do we go? I thought it would be at least a little. . . obvious,” my confused adventure buddy said with a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“Yeah me too. I don’t even see a single path that leads anywhere,” I shared her disappointment in that moment. I suddenly saw Kelcey’s disappointed facial-expressions quickly be replaced with ones of hope.

“Tony’s been here before. Remember when he was talking about it a while ago? He should remember how to get there. I mean, he was pretty high before even being up there but I’m sure he remembers the way!”

So she called our buddy, Tony. He was more of Kelcey’s friend then my own. Solely because him and Kelcey shared a more, how do you say, special, relationship. But nonetheless, he was our friend.

After three rings, he answered the phone in the classic Tony, the Cool Guy way. He definitely waited three rings on purpose. Ugh. “Yo, Pint,” Tony said in a chill manner. Sounding as if he was smirking just the tiniest bit. Classic Tony. He called Kelcey that nickname because she was quite a skinny gal. She was “pint-sized”.

Doesn’t that mean “short”? She wasn’t even that short. Five-foot six maybe. Quite an unfitting nickname, actually. Especially since he knew she didn’t like when people commented on her small figure.

Why was he the exception? Hm. “How can I be of assistance on this fine day?” he said sweetly.

Mockingly.

“Hey, why do you assume I need something?” Kelcey retorted.

Her stance got defensive.

“Name a time you’ve called my phone and not needed some34

Volume 8, Spring 2020

thing.” He was definitely grinning. Just freaking ask him about the damn mansion, Kelcey.

“Okay, whatever. I just need to know if you can tell me how to get to that mansion you told me about. Me and Sam are at the Piasa Bird right now and we have no idea where to go,” she got straight to the point. Thank god.

After a few far-too-friendly “jokes” between Kelcey and Tony, our suave friend started to describe the way to the main pathway.

The issue was, everything he was describing was basically “green, rocks, trees, uphill, take a left by the tree with branches, right by the tree with green leaves,” etc. That could literally be ANYWHERE. This place is almost swallowed by trees. So when he told us to head towards the hill that ended with a fence, we got excited as that was our first helpful lead.

“Go to the hill located on the side of the bird and walk up for a bit. You should come to a weird fenced-in area. Literally don’t let that scare you. Just step over that little stump-ish barrier that is put right in front of the weird fence and keep walking right,” After Tony said that much, we pretty much ran. Up the hill, over the small step, to the right. More running.

Then do this. Then do that. Turn here and then there!

After what felt like an eternity of us speed-walking, our buddy got to a point where he couldn’t remember what to do anymore. He got us pretty far, I’ll give him that much. But pretty much everything he’s been saying for the past minute has been bullshit.

“Sorry, Pint.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you were messed up before, during and after. It’s fine,” Kelcey said, almost annoyed.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you ladies later.” We both said bye simultaneously and just took a deep, frustrated breath as we realized what our issue was.

“We pretty much have to guess at this point,” I said. Kelcey agreed. We were at a point where there were two ways the path was taking us: uphill or straight. We looked at each other and inaudibly agreed as we nodded then headed uphill. After about a minute of walking, not running because of slight fatigue, we slowly came to realize we absolutely made the right choice.

Kelcey and I made eye contact immediately. We both just saw the same thing out of the corners of our eyes. Through a patch of thick trees we, or at least I saw what looked to be a house. An abandoned house.

35

Peppermint Rooster Review

“I know I didn’t just see what I thought I saw,” my exhausted friend cried.

“You absolutely did!” I ran up the remaining path with my friend directly behind me. “Look, Kelcey!” No way!

That’s when we finally saw it. We saw it. The place! The mansion! The place we had only seen through a small phone’s screen.

The glory we’ve been waiting for since noon of this morning. We’re actually here! I couldn’t believe it. The fact that we actually committed to something so crazy and probably illegal made me feel such a good feeling that told me that we weren’t complete losers. I was just happy we got out of the house. And we did it together!

This place was huge! Or should I say these “places”! There were maybe three or four buildings all right in front of the both of us.

Each of them molded in slightly “off” shapes. Almost like they were all too round or not square enough. These abandoned residences all shared the trait of endless amounts of windows and heights bigger than anything I had ever witnessed. These houses all stood at such a height, I exaggerated that they were a million times as big as my two-story home. Maybe not a million.

The one in the middle was seemingly the biggest, and maybe even the one with the most spray-paint on it. Its roof was as big as a yacht and it hurt my neck to look up as high as this structure continued. The two other additions to this house were nearly as large but maybe a foot or two shorter. They all relatively looked the same.

Except for the fact that the one in the middle was slightly wider than the ones adjacent to it.

A building standing and looking exactly the same as the others caught my eye as I was trying to peer around the three building without moving. I just stood there, feeling smaller than anything the world could ever offer me. A million-and-one thoughts flooded my exhausted brain and the only words I was able to form were “Oh my god”. Was it because we actually found the place with the lousy advice that we were given or the fact that we got here without passing out due to heat exhaustion that made me have such a lack of words?

I don’t know. I just knew I wanted to start exploring. Immediately!

Still feeling the sense of accomplishment and euphoria that accompanied both my friend and I on this hike, I started soaking in the area we were in. I tried to experience everything that this area offered me at that very moment. The lingering smell of strong spraypaint; the wind on our faces that were drenched in sweat and melt36

Volume 8, Spring 2020

ing makeup; the silence. It was all so different. Inspiring, almost. It made me want to write a love song or adopt a cat. Or go off-the-grid for a month. Just being there was enough. Being outside; having fun. Being dirty. Something about the activity was so rejuvenating.

We hadn’t even taken a step and I knew that that was going to be one of the best days of my life.

I looked around and up and down and where I was standing.

There were so many trees. Duh, right? But, no, this place was completely hidden. Neither of us expected it to be hidden at all, really.

I doubt this place was even visible from the river. If you looked up from down there, you probably wouldn’t even be able to see us. It was mind-blowing. This was a place to go to and get away for a while. A place to just be.

We then realized how far away we really were from that up-right Root Beer can when we took a step a little too far to the right and became far-too-acquainted with a ledge that told us we were probably a hundred feet off the spot that my car was parked on. Watch where you step. Noted.

Not letting that shake us, my friend and I took a glance at each other, pulled up our big girl pants and started walking toward the center of this huge, fantastic mess. Walking on what resembled a driveway, we looked at the “art” we were waltzing upon. With every step we took, we stepped on at least a dozen spray-painted artworks.

All unique in their own ways, of course. I swore I saw a pentagram.

After walking a minute up the large spray-paint walk-of-fame, Kelcey and I approached the oddly-shaped buildings’ center of attention. The largest building in the middle of them all. We both giddily took a step through what I believed to be the front door. Or what was left of it. Going through the seemingly-charred doorframe, my foot touched the ground. The second my foot made contact with the floor, my eyes shot to my feet. And in that moment, I suddenly remembered the pictures we saw online.

Just like walking up the “driveway”, I couldn’t take a step without stepping on something. But the “somethings” we were trampling on inside the house weren’t spray-paint. They were trash. There was literal garbage everywhere! Just like the Instagram pictures warned.

Every single area I focused on was devastated with rotting waste.

There was pink-turned-brown insulation lying in every other space of the room and glass shattered everywhere else. I saw maybe a hundred wrinkled water bottles in just the first glance I took across 37

Peppermint Rooster Review

the football-field-sized room. There were beer cans sprinkled everywhere; in every corner; in every bush peaking in through the broken windows. Along with cigarette butts, blunt papers, food wrappers, tissues and just a handful of definitely-used condoms. Of course like the exterior, there was spray-paint decorating every available space inside the building. I was in shock. As was my friend. We shared concerned glances with each other as we both decided to trudge on.

As we started to explore more, we soon came to realize that the entirety of this place was exactly the same as the first place we entered and it wasn’t going to get better than what we initially saw.

Just like the first room, there were beer cans in the next spacious room we went into. Just like the second room we went into, the third building was filthy and decorated with trash and spray-painted works. Every room, every place, every space in this vicinity was completely broken. Broken and smelly.

Kelcey and I kept touring this war-zone of trash. We were intrigued, as well as revolted. Even though everything was nasty and pretty much smelled like a full diaper, this adventure was still one of a kind. I mean, thinking about how much fun we had getting ready, hiking up here. That was the real adventure. Exploring new and exciting places with my best friend was just so special.

All the passageways, weird rooms and broken windows were oddly fascinating. As we walked from dirty room to even dirtier room; to room of glass shards to windows full of plastic bags and bottles, we saw more and more spray-painted walls. Some walls were layered in various colorful paints and some walls were just covered in a single, thick layer of a single color. For a while, the spray-painted “art” was pretty harmless: a flower here, a portrait there. Maybe even some curse words that were written in pretty witty ways. When these art exhibits stopped being harmless was when Kelcey and I made our way into main facility’s basement.

I took maybe a step or two down to this area’s cold, eerie ground floor and my mouth flew open; perfect to house a fly or two. I wasn’t surprised by the floor-corner to ceiling-corner trash. Or even the dead squirrels we both kept seeing that looked sacrificed, almost. Those things didn’t surprise me anymore at that point. We had been here for about two hours and I stopped being surprised when I stepped on a used condom. What rendered me speechless was the inaudible loudness this room encapsulated. The message this room told us was one of ignorance, hate, and of something demonic.

When my friend and I took a look at the walls down where 38

Volume 8, Spring 2020

we resided at that moment, we almost immediately leapt right back to where we came from. The room was completely disguised. I couldn’t even make out what the initial color of the walls was down there because what covered them, covered them entirely. The entire basement was covered with swastikas. Dark red ones, black ones, white ones. A lot of white ones. Some were just the symbol itself.

Some, along with the symbol, had the word “heil” accompanying it. I saw the phrase “white power” so much more than my stomach could handle. This mess was everywhere. On the floor, the ceiling, the windows. It was unbelieveable.

In addition to the swastikas, there were so many other forms of hate down there. Including, but not limited to racial slurs, homophobic slurs, misogynistic images and words. The entire basement was plagued with those erroneous vandalisms. The energy down there was haunting. Every minute I was down there I lost a decade of innocence. It really was the most horrid area of the mansion and one of the scariest places I had ever been in. There were pentagrams as well but everything else down there was what told me that it was time to start heading back up and say our goodbyes to this weird place.

Coming up the stairs of the bigoted basement, I took a deep breath of the questionable air as Kelcey called my name. She was pointing to a windowed area that looked as if it was the most intact section of this place that we had seen yet. The windows were all around here, above her and under her. And they were all incredibly stable. Curiously stable. Unlike everything else around here, the windows weren’t broken, smashed or burglarized. They even looked pretty clean.

Kelcey was turned with her back towards me, looking out at whatever this area’s view could offer her. I approached my friend as I gandered towards what she was smiling at. The view from this walk-in closet of windows was absolutely beautiful. All we could see from where we were then was just trees and a sliver of the sun bouncing off the river; but at that moment, that was the prettiest thing we had ever seen. Or at least in the last few minutes.

“Here, take my picture to show my dad! Pat is going to love it,” Kelcey said as she handed me her phone and turned back towards the gorgeous, leafy view. I snapped her picture a few times and took in the last few moments of us being here because I knew we both felt the same feeling. It was time to leave.

Being as exhausted as I was, I don’t remember how my friend 39

Peppermint Rooster Review

and I fumbled our way back down. We might have called Tony back.

I don’t remember, but we probably guessed. Like we did half way up. All I remember before we left was that I ended up peeing in a bush because I couldn’t hold it anymore. I partially remember mentally saying our goodbyes to the dump-filled site and then suddenly I was hovering over the root beer can and pizza box again. The middle-aged dads left, though.

“That was awesome. Thanks, Sam,” my friend hugged me. She was indescribably sweaty. As was I. I didn’t mind, though. She was right. This was awesome. We just stayed there, hugging and sticking together due to the baked-on sweat we had both accumulated.

We got into the car that had patiently been waiting for us; and I couldn’t tell if the AC got better, or if we were so hot and sweaty that Crystal’s warm air felt cold. The second my moist body hit the driver’s seat, I wanted to pass out and sleep forever. Luckily Kelcey lived close enough that the drive back would only be as long as a few blinks and we could sleep for as long as we wanted in her cold house.

Before we knew it, we were back in her home, devouring every last item of food in her kitchen. I had never appreciated efficient AC so much in my life. Full, bloated, content and proud, my best friend and I went to her living room and feel asleep the second our heads hit the same couch we thought of this crazy idea on.

This day taught me so much. Mostly, it taught me to never wear makeup on a hike. But this escapade truly pushed me to try something new and convinced me to worry less and just go for it. “It” being literally anything because we were pretty lazy. But most importantly, this day showed me that you can make anything fun with the right people. And that you don’t need money if you have those people.

Overall, I’m really glad I got to experience such an otherworldly, cool feat. Even though it was a complete dump, it really was spectacular. I’ll just try to mentally erase that basement, though. I tried a brand-new thing with my best friend that day and it was a great bonding experience for us both. Nowadays, Kelcey and I aren’t too good of friends. But I really hope she holds onto this memory. Because I know I will for a very long time.

40

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Skylar Maupin Royal Flush I have a gambling problem, and by “gambling problem” I mean a problem with working at a casino. Argosy Alton is the only casino we have within a short distance of my hometown Wood River. It’s only about a ten to fifteen minute drive from my house and it pays thirteen dollars an hour. It was the perfect job for an eighteen year old right out of high school with no further education. My mother works there as a slot attendant and loves it, so I figured that I would like it, too. I have bad anxiety so working with my mom would be perfect because she could help if I needed anything plus it would save gas for both of us. I was WRONG. Working at Argosy is a royal flush. Literally. I work in the cage or the main bank;we deal with all the money that goes through the casino. As a cage worker I give customers change, cash out TITO tickets (tickets that the slot machines print out), and do all the paperwork for jackpots so we can pay them out to the slot attendant to pay out the customer Some of the supervisors are far from super, the customers are rude and impatient, and the hours are far from normal. I do NOT recommend gambling with a job at Argosy Alton casino.

The supervisors are not super at all, at least not all of them. For the most part I like all of the cage supervisors. With an exception of one…. Teresa. Teresa is a nuisance. When doing a jackpot we have to print out a paper with the winner’s social, last name, date of birth, and the amount before taxes on the jackpot. We do not need this paper in order to finish the jackpot. We just have to print it out for accounting. Unlike every other supervisor Teresa takes the paper off the printer and sits it in the middle of our workstation so we can “look over it.” The only thing that the paper does is gets in the way of everything, yet she does this every time. I have told her many times that I do not need the paper and would prefer to keep it on the printer until the jackpot is ready to pay out. She doesn’t listen.

Another one of our supervisors is Terry. I love working with Terry because she is easy to get along with and very funny; she livens up the workplace. The only problem with Terry is I don’t think she should be able to work in a bank setting because she is the slowest counter in the world. I can count out of a main bank in the time she counts out of a cashier bank. A cashier bank only has fifty-thousand dollars in it. To verify a bank you do not have to deal with any paper

41

Peppermint Rooster Review

work; you just count all the money and add up all the numbers on the countdown sheet. A main banks balance varies; you could have anywhere in the one-hundred thousand dollar range. To count out of a bank you have to log all the paperwork (checks, credit card checks, banks, transfers, TITO tickets, test money, emergency fills, etc.) along with count down all the money and log it on the countdown sheet. It is supposed to take roughly ten minutes to count into a cashier; Terry takes roughly twenty to thirty minutes. I count out of a main bank drawer in roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Beth is the main supervisor of the cage department. She is barely in the cage because she deals with the hiring of people and not a lot of people can handle working with large amounts of money so we go through new people fast. She recently hired this woman named Cozette; no one in the cage likes her. She is very slow and talks to the customers too much which causes lines to get out of hand. In addition to that she has not caught on to all of the procedures that we have to follow when dealing with money. We are not allowed to reach out of our window and touch the customer or take anything straight out of people’s hands. Cozette does this all day everyday even after managers and co-workers tell her not to because surveillance will write her up for it. She continues to do it. There have been many write ups for her and her variacs are very high for the little time she has worked at Argosy. We have also received many customer complaints about her, yet Beth refuses to fire her. This is causing our wait times to go up and our friendly and helpful percentages to go down because we do not have time so small talk with customers.

We have to deal with the worst customers ever. People who gamble on the regular most likely have a problem with it. Gamblers are the worst people to work around. When they run out of money, they get so angry. Because of this, I have to hear them complain to me while I finish the transaction. I had this one customer yelling at me the whole time because I was going “too god damn slow.’’ His attitude grew with every second he had to wait because his “ lucky machine was going to get stolen because of ‘my’ slow ass.” He was very rude and impatient for the little amount of time his transaction was. Normally people think in order to work in a casino you have to be twenty-one or older. I am only eighteen. It doesn’t happen too often, but when customers find out my age they get nervous about me counting their money. There have been many times where a customer and I have been talking and my age was brought up. They say I look “very young for my age” and when they find out I’m only 42

Volume 8, Spring 2020

eighteen they grab their money and walk to the next window. This really aggravates me because I am very good at my job. I count very fast and I am very accurate in my counting. There are some customers who rather wait ten minutes in a line then to come to my line with on one ahead of them. Slot play is another thing that customers complain about that is annoying. The more you play a slot machine with your card the more points you earn. Having more points puts you on our mailing list and our promo lists. The casino gives out free slot play or free money to play slots to customers who have the right amount of tier points. Some players get five dollars a week; others get up to one hundred to play on. Every week we have the same guy come in. He only gets five dollars of play a week from us. He ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS comes up to my window to complain about not getting his five dollars. We have a system on our computers that tell us how much the customer gets and if they have spent it. If they spent the free slot play it tells us what time and what machine they used it on. Every week when he comes up I check the system because there have been times when they should receive free slot play and it doesn’t show up on the card. Still every week the computer tells me he spent it on the machine right in front of my window just one minute before he came up to complain. Whenever I tell him the news that we know he spent it he demands us watch the surveillance tapes. I call up to surveillance and ask them to watch the tapes; they confirm he played the machine on his free play. I get the same response from this customer every week “oh well I must not know how the free play works.” I know this is false information because I teach him every week and I call a slot attendant every week to help him learn. Gamblers will do anything for free money.

The hours are far from a normal nine to five job. Argosy Alton Casino is opened twenty-two hours a day seven days a week. This means we have three shifts; the day shift, swing shift and the grave shift. When I first got the job I worked the swing shift. It is our busiest shift because it is midday and normally the time all of our promotions start. I liked swing shift a lot because the day goes by faster–there is no time to look at the clock so there is no time to complain about being at work. I was going pretty good at the main bank position so my boss decided to make me work the vault. I was able to work vault but it wasn’t my favorite thing to do. Every quarter we get a new bid.

This means that every three month we get a schedule change of our choosing in order of seniority. On the bid you get to pick the shift and the days you want off; Sandi will base your weekly schedule off 43

Peppermint Rooster Review

of this bid. I didn’t like working vault so on the next bid I changed to days (I’m first in seniority for part time so I get whatever I want).

I switched to days because i hated working vault and you have to be trained for day vault and I didn’t meet the qualifications to be trained.

Days were good—I went in work at seven thirty, a half an hour before the casino opened. This gave me enough time to count in and verify all of my money before we evened opened. I loved it. I would get off work at around three thirty but if I had the right person counting in behind me I would leave at around three. I really liked my job and the hours until I learned about bonus days. Bonus days are days outside of your set schedule that Sandi likes to give you as “little gifts.” No One likes bonus days; she will schedule you bonus days and not tell you that the schedule was changed. With this being said, I have been late to work many times because I only look at my schedule when it comes out. If Sandi would tell you it would be fine, but she doesn’t.

You have to be on standby at all time because of the bonus days. It is impossible to make plans or your days off because most likely they aren’t really your days off. Then there are call in’s. These are the most awful things in the world. Imagine laying in bed almost asleep at nine thirty because you have an eight o’clock class in the morning…….

And your phone rings. You look at the screen and it says “WORK”, you answer it because the weather has been bad and you think they are going to say you don’t have to come in tomorrow, but no. You hear Teresa’s voice asking if you can come in and work until close.

Until SIX O’CLOCK !!! I’m sure you can imagine how upset I was getting ready for a shift that wasn’t mine–also it was a grave shift, the slowest shifts we have. The next day school was worse than hell. Not only because it’s an eight o’clock class, but because I had zero sleep and the class was statistics. It’s hard enough to stay caught up in that class with sleep let alone without any sleep whatsoever.

If you are ever looking to get a job at the great Argosy Alton casino, unlike me, ask questions in the interview. Or just don’t apply for the main bank position. There are many other departments in the casino that I’m sure are not as bad, such as food and beverage and slot techs. But when you and you mother are working at the same place and you are making more per hour than her it is worth it to stick it out and “love your job” …at least while surveillance is watching

44

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Hope Wahl Types of Restaurant Tippers All work in a restaurant has ups and downs, but serving food is especially unpredictable. Some nights you will leave with more money than you anticipated, while other nights you feel as if you barely made anything. The pay of a server is completely dependent on what customers they serve. Any amount of tips are appreciated; however, a few customers’ generosity is inspiring. People come to eat from all around the Godfrey-Alton area to eat at Joe’s Pizza and Pasta, and the amount they tip their servers varies. The tippers at Joe’s can typically be broken down into four groups: the skimpers, the verbal tippers, the percentage tippers, and the jackpots.

The worst type of table to server are the skimpers; these are the people who don’t believe tipping is their responsibility. They could be anyone: a little old lady, a successful businessman, even a family of 6. A skimper probably won’t say phrases such as “please” or “thank you”; instead, they will find any reason to complain about the service, even if everything is adequate. Marcia is a good example of a skimper at Joe’s. Despite Marcia’s guaranteed complaint at least once every time she comes in, she still comes back about twice a week. Marcia usually complains about the unsweet tea being too strong; although, she refuses to drink anything else. One time she told her server, “I find it so ridiculous how long the food takes here.

I’m surprised this place stays open!” Marcia is 100% guaranteed to never leave a tip for her server, so none of the employees like when she comes in. An example of two skimpers would be Tom and Sheryl, an elderly couple who always leave $1 and seem dissatisfied with their server. They come in every Sunday after church, one of Joe’s most busy lunch rushes and order more food than they could possibly consume. A typical order for Tom and Sheryl includes 2 waters, 2 cups of coffee that seem to have holes in the mugs by how quickly they run out, 2 side salads with poppyseed and extra poppyseed, an order of fried mozzarella sticks, fried meat ravioli, boneless mild wings with blue cheese, a large Joe’s Deluxe pizza, and 2 cannolis at the end. This easily adds up to over $50 worth of food and most servers would expect a 20% tip if none of the food was messed up and the drinks stayed full. Tom and Sheryl always have disappointed scowls on their face when their food arrives, but they still eat it all.

Tom and Sheryl never smile or say thank you, instead they tell their

45

Peppermint Rooster Review

servers “Keep the change”, which is always $1. The skimpers can get on a server’s nerves when they refuse to accept that they should decently tip.

Some other tippers at Joe’s would be the verbal tippers, who, instead of giving their server money, give compliments and smiles.

These are similar to the skimpers; however, they are in disguise.

The verbal tippers believe they can give non-monetary tips, which is simply not true. They will seem extremely nice but they will not leave you a decent tip. If a table is being extra with numerous compliments on your looks, service, or even the food while you are serving them; you should expect they won’t tip well. The more nice things they say, the less you will receive. An example of a verbal tipper is Missy, a red-headed lady in her mid 40s that drives a brand new red Cadillac. She is super sweet and smiley and always shows her gratitude for her server by flooding them with compliments. The last time she ate at Joe’s, she told her server, “Oh my gosh! You have the most beautiful eyes! I love green eyes and yours are so pretty.

And where did you get those shoes? Those are cute! Of course anything probably looks cute on you.”

“Thank you so much!” the server replied.

Missy said, “And the service here is amazing, by the way.”

The compliments were flattering to the server but she didn’t fall for it; she had served Missy before, so she wasn’t surprised when Missy left $2 on a $30 meal, with a “THANK YOU SO MUCH” and a smiley face left on her receipt. Another example of a verbal tipper is Albert, an elderly man who comes to Joe’s every couple weeks or so. Albert has thick grey hair and round glasses that sit on the edge of his nose. He is always in a good mood with a big smile on his face. Whenever a server approaches Albert to check on him during his meal, he tells them how wonderful the food is before the server has a chance to say anything. He is known for complimenting the chef frequently and never has had a complaint. Since Albert has been coming to Joe’s for a few months now, the servers have caught on to the fact that he is a verbal tipper and never leaves gratuity.

While the skimpers and the verbal tippers are annoying, the percentage tippers–the group of customers at Joe’s that leave 15-20% of their bill as the tip–are wonderful. These people are what servers rely on to pay the bills. Percentage tippers come with many different looks and personalities but they always tip. Most people tip to make their bill an even number, but percentage tippers can be seen pulling their calculator app out to find the exact percent of tip expected.

46

Volume 8, Spring 2020

This makes their tips random, like $6.38 or $9.12. One time, when a percentage tipper named Matthew came to dine in, he specifically told his server that he was allergic to mushrooms and did not want any on his Greek pizza, which normally comes with them. The server was extra careful to specify this message onto the ticket to the cooks. Still, somehow the cooks forgot when they were making his pizza, and smothered the thing in mushrooms. When the server came to take the pizza and realized they had messed up, she ordered the cooks to make a new one. It was at least 40 minutes before Matthew received his food and his server was certain she wouldn’t receive a tip. She apologized profusely while Matthew complained that he was starving. Although he was pissed off about the wait, he still tipped his server 20% because he knew it wasn’t her fault.

Customers in this group are great people and motivate the servers to work. Another representative of this group is Jack, a school bus driver in Godfrey that always makes sure he tips appropriately. Jack brought his wife Ellen and their four grandkids to Joe’s for Ellen’s 65th birthday; he told the kids they could each order whatever entree and desserts they wanted. The grandkids quickly racked up a $150 check for their Grandpa Jack, who then left his waitress exactly $30, because that is 20%.

The most rare and absolute best types of tippers at Joe’s are the jackpots, the customers who tip an exceptionally high amount.

Now, sometimes the jackpots are creepy but most are just nice people. An example of a jackpot is Ed, a 50 year old guy who wears cowboy boots and jeans with a big brass belt buckle. He drives a huge, jacked up GMC truck so he seems like he has money. Ed comes in at least once a week to sit at the bar and drink a few Miller Lite Drafts. He keeps light conversation with the girl servers and never orders food or anything else. Usually when he walks in, he greets the staff by saying, “What’s up y’all? How’re y’all doin’?”

Although the servers don’t do much for Ed besides pour him beers and chit-chat, he usually leaves between 30 and 75 dollars. As you can imagine, everyone likes to be Ed’s server. Another example of a jackpot is Bob, who is similar to Ed in terms of leaving extravagant tips; however, he is a lot creepier. Bob comes to Joe’s a couple times a week to get drunk off of the Storypoint Cabernet, and he has a particular interest in a server named Tessa. Bob comes in Joe’s every time Tessa works and leaves her at least $50 each time. He is known to even call the store and ask if Tessa is working that day. While he seems weird for being obsessed with Tessa, she doesn’t mind be47

Peppermint Rooster Review

cause he gives her so much money.

With all of the different types of tippers at Joe’s, the servers pay can vary. Even though nobody wants to serve the skimpers and the verbal tippers; the percentage tippers and jackpots make it all worth it. Serving at Joe’s on any given day, you are bound to encounter at least one of these four types; you just have to adapt to each table to give them your best service. An important quality for servers to have is taking the good with the bad, along with a lot of patience.

So, next time you’re out to eat, think about which group of customer you’re in.

48

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Lauren Shaw The Day I Started Over On the day of October 2nd of 2016 I attempted to take my own life. Many people may think that ending your life is a way out, and you’re doing nothing but hurting everyone else. Though that may be the case, they don’t understand is what the person went through to get them to that level. Someone doesn’t chose to end their life just because of one bad choice or situation that happened in their life. It’s a force of things that are no longer in control of that they aren’t able to handle by themselves. In my case it was a battle of bullying, a overbearing boyfriend that broke my heart, a cheerleading accident, and the end to my cheerleading career. In no way shape or form am I trying to persuade someone to commit suicide or to attempt it. Suicide is not the way out. If you are reading this paper and you have any thoughts, please get help. This is my journey to the day I started over.

In high school, bullying is a very big problem that happens in almost every school. Kids find a way to make others feel worthless and like they have no one. My bullying began in junior high by a kid of the name of Joey. Joey was the star football player who every girl dreamed of dating… well besides me. Joey was considered the “ringleader” of our friend group and once he started in on something it was everyone else’s responsibility to follow his actions or commands. Joey began to make my life a living hell in 6th grade during lunch; he always found a way to make fun of my shirt or the way I would mispronounce a word. Those were little things that triggered him, but if I were to ask a question that I was unsure of that is when World War III began. It was a break out of hateful comments driven directly towards me for my lack of knowledge on the discussed topic. “ Are you stupid?” “You seriously don’t know?” “ Wow that blonde hair really is coming through today.” “ How did you even pass the 5th grade?” Those mean spoken words were like knives into my self worth and self concept. This then began my anxiety and my depression. The bullying continued into high school but grew from just Joey to the cheerleading team, once they saw Joey could walk all over me and I wouldn’t stick up for myself they began to do the same. Though the cheerleaders had caused me so much pain, I stayed with the sport because it was my only way out… to get my anger out, to feel free, to feel confident in myself again.

The next conflict was my overbearing ex boyfriend. Brady was

49

Peppermint Rooster Review

the perfect brown haired, blue eyed, Christian boy that was perfect for me… so I thought. Brady was a junior in high school when I was a freshman and we became friends through the track team and through mutual friends. Our horrific love journey began on March 25th of 2015. He caught my eye due to his good looks, his intelligence and his funny personality. When we began dating everything was perfect for the first eight months, he went to church with me, took me out on dates, respected me and my family, and was always showering me with presents and compliments. After the first eight months though I began to see changes in him. He began questioning my appearance and why I would be dressed up for school. He began assuming I was dressing up to impress others rather just trying to feel better about myself. He began to arguing about going to church and demanded to go through my phone. Though these were all signs at the beginning telling me to run as far away as my little legs would take me, I stayed. Brady didn’t have the best home life due to his dad dying, and his mom abandoning him and moving halfway across the country. So I began put all of his recent changes in behaviors towards those events occurring in his life. Months passed and his actions worsened, he began restricting me from hanging out with my friends, making me change my outfits, and being verbally abusive.

Even with him showing these signs I stayed because of the events in his life. More months had passed and we had reached our 2 years. I was now a junior in high school and he was a freshman in college.

Due to our age difference we were no longer at the same school which just added more conflict into our relationship. People began to inform me of a possibility on him cheating on me with a girl from his college and of course in disbelief I denied it. Finally, I reached the strength to question him about it and it blew up like a wildfire.

“How do you think I could ever do something like that?!” he screamed.

“I have done nothing but love you.”

I believed him like any dumb girl would do and moved on from it, until the rumors began to fly again. One day we were in the car headed to the hospital to see his dad, and his phone dinged. And his dumb ass asked me to answer.

“Hey when you get done seeing your dad are you going to pick me up or am I going to meet you at Fazoli’s? Can’t wait to see you!:*” My heart sank. I demanded he pulled over and let me out of the car. Even with messages to prove it, he still denied it. All of the ru50

Volume 8, Spring 2020

mors were true. I was broken, shattered into a million pieces. Two years of my life wasted by a guy that I loved with my whole heart. I made my sister pick me up from the nearest gas station I walked to and that was the end of Brady and me. Days had passed and I decided we needed to talk about it so I could get a better understanding of what lead him to these actions. He stated he needed something to get his mind off of his home situations and that was her. He picked her, he wanted her, I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. That killed me. A bullet to the heart. My first true heart break, it hurt to breathe, to get out of bed, to move, to talk, to do anything.

A few weeks had passed and I was at cheerleading practice, trying my hardest to get my mind off of the hurt that had just occurred a few short weeks before. Just as we were doing the last stunt of the practice I received an elbow to my four front teeth leaving a huge gap in what used to be a perfect smile. Lost for words, the team and I tried what we could to gather everything and head off to the hospital after my dad arrived. On my way there I couldn’t help but to inform Brady of this blow that had just crushed my life as well. He was still my home, my safe haven, and I needed him there for me. He rushed to the hospital and met me at the doors. There for me every step of the way. All while continuing with his relationship with the college side chick. What a douchebag. Anyways, back to the story… after placing the teeth back into position and tons of pain he proceeded to tell me at the end of the night that, “This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together.” “ You’re not what I want anymore.”

Leaving me broken once again, I continued to try to heal. That was until I heard the words from the dentist that I was unable to cheer for a year until my teeth healed… and if I wanted to risk taking even taking a nudge to my teeth I would be risking losing my teeth permanently. So there went my cheerleading career, out the door. My last resort holding me together, and now… I was left with nothing.

I had reached the end, I couldn’t continue to struggle any longer so I settled to my end result. The thing that would end all the pain… the bottle of pills. After many days in the hospital and weeks in therapy I started my life over. I became a new person that had something to live for. I believed in myself and put my happiness in myself and nobody else. After all of the things that had held me back… finally, I was actually happy.

51

Peppermint Rooster Review

Hayley Day My First Experience

52

I had wanted a tattoo since I was fourteen years old and once I turned eighteen, my parents told me they would take me to go get it done sometime. The reason I desired having a tattoo was because I had been abused for many years of my life and my mom was able to put a stop to it as soon as she found out what was going on. Once I came out of that, I wanted to remind myself being through Hell and back made me stronger than ever. My step-dad Aaron I actually call my dad because he has always shown love and affection for both my younger brother Dylan and me. Obviously I wanted my caring and supportive parents to accompany me. I wanted them to watch the demons of my past finally leave my living, breathing body.

One crisp, warm, Monday evening, my parents told me they had a surprise for me. “Make sure to wear old clothes and to bring your ID with you Hayley,” my beautiful mother said. She had chosen to wear her curly blonde hair in a cute messy bun and had put brown eyeshadow on to bring out her blue ocean-like eyes. She was wearing a nice blue shirt and shorts with dangly earrings, tied together with black sneakers.

My dad with his long, dark, and wavy hair came out of their room in his blue Reef shirt with khaki shorts, paired with Sperry shoes. “Hey kiddo, just letting you know we’re leaving soon, so please chop-chop,” Dad said with a smile on his face as he passed me into the living room.

“Ok Dad,” I said as I threw on my Converse completing my old, but comfortable outfit of a tie-dye shirt and black shorts.

During the conversation with my parents, my younger brother Dylan came out of his room wearing a very mismatched outfit as always. He chose a blue shirt with red shorts, paired with red and black socks and grey shoes. After I put Adalynn (my younger sister), in her car seat, I waited for my parents and brother to join us. We dropped the kids off and then started heading somewhere. It was very quiet, and Dad’s bright fiery red car still had the new smell to it.

In the meantime, I kept wondering where we were going. Maybe we’re going to get me a car, or we’re going to dinner? Maybe we could also be going to finally get my tattoo? I really wasn’t sure what to think at that moment. Dad parked the car in front of Walgreens. I know I looked confused because of what my mom said

Volume 8, Spring 2020

next. “Your surprise is not Walgreens. Don’t worry sweetie,” she said with a lighthearted laugh. Really? Oh what a shame Mom, I thought sarcastically.

After a while, we got out of the car and walked towards the street-crossing button. We reached the door of a tattoo parlor that read Tattoo Evermore Parlour, and at that moment I was nervous but excited. Meanwhile, we walked in and there was a lady sitting at the front desk dressed in a punk rock shirt with black leggings, and black, bulky boots. Her hair was a shade of midnight blue with a streak of purple in the front of her bangs, and she was touching up her makeup.

“Can I help you guys?” she asked.

“Hi we had an appointment for five-thirty,” Mom said with a huge smile on her face.

“Yes go have a seat and please fill out this form dear,” the lady with the blue hair said.

In that moment I started to take in my surroundings. It was a big room with two big black couches and in the middle of the room sat a small, nice brown table. On top of that table were books of tattoos for inspiration and showing what they are capable of. The place had eighties sounding music lightly playing in the background and the sound of tattoo machines going was enough to make me feel so nervous, I had to excuse myself to find the restroom.

After some time, I finished the paperwork and brought it up to her. I was then told to email my tattoo drawing to Jake, the guy that was going to give me my tattoo. At first, I had originally planned on doing the design of stay strong in cursive with a design, but after a year or two, I changed it to with pain comes strength. I incorporated my love of music with a treble clef, a heart with a semicolon that represents “not the end”, and a sun at the bottom of my treble clef to show my love for the sun. The inspiration for my tattoo came in a few different ways. I designed my own tattoo, but I used the phrase, and the font from Pinterest. (For those of you who don’t know what Pinterest is, it’s a social media network that allows you to share and save your interests.)

About fifteen minutes later, Jake came out wearing a grey shirt with old beat-up jeans, paired with black sneakers. He asked if what he fixed on my design looked all right. He held it up to my side and I gave him a nod and a reassuring smile. He then plastered some sticky adhesive goo to me before placing the designed paper on my side. “Okay I need you to lie down on your side and place your right 53

Peppermint Rooster Review

arm above your head for me. I also need to tell you that I’ll be able to get this done in a breeze, as long as you continue to breathe. It’ll be hard for both of us if you hold your breath because I have to stop and wait until you start breathing again, before I can continue. I’ll be as gentle as I can and I will tell you before I do something as well,” Jake said.

“Sounds great,” I said with a quiver in my voice and feeling the need to use the restroom again.

In an instant, the sound of the tattoo machine turning on sounded like a soft drill and it made my heart feel like it was going to burst from my chest. He had me lift my shirt and the cool, crisp air hit my body intensifying my already forming goosebumps. Immediately, I breathed a deep breath in and out before he began to calm my shaking body. The needle touched my skin and my mom took ahold of my hand as I squeezed my black scrunchie in my left hand. I laid there thinking, Remember why you’re doing this Hayley. The needle vibrated on my delicate skin and at times even tickled because the intensity of vibration was very high. It felt like being I was being stabbed in the side multiple times by a grumpy nurse.

“Oh wow he’s already on the beginning of the second word,” my dad said shocked.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting this done,” I said in a playfully sarcastic tone. “Oh wow, I feel that,” I said as I made a pained face and shed a tear down my face.

“Yeah, I was afraid you would feel it the most when he got to that spot,” Dad said as he rubbed my knee and gave me an apologetic look.

“He’s at the top with the design isn’t he?” I asked as I winced once again.

“Yes but he’s almost done,” Mom said with a bright smile on her face. “After he’s done, we were planning on taking you out to eat, sweetie. What would you like to eat?” my mom asked as she was trying to distract me from the last few places he was touching up on my design.

“Chinese sounds wonderful,” I said as a low growl erupted from my stomach and my mouth began to water by the thought of it.

“That sounds good to me as well kiddo,” Dad said.

“Alright I’m all finished and you’re all good to go,” Jake said as he turned off the machine and wiped the excess ink from my fresh, vibrant tattoo.

“Thank you so much,” I said with a big toothy grin.

54

Volume 8, Spring 2020

“It was my pleasure. You did very well for getting that in such a painful spot,” Jake said as he told my dad the payment of the tattoo. “Here is the aftercare card you need in order to take care of your fresh ink. You guys have a great rest of your night, and if you have any questions or problems, give us a call,” Jake said as he bid us goodbye.

“Thank you,” all three of us said as we walked out the door into the early sight of the sun going down.

I have had my tattoo for three weeks now, and there are still times I’m shocked to see a permanent ink design of mine on my body. It was a great experience getting my first tattoo done with the company of my loving, caring parents. I have decided around a year from now, I will be getting my next tattoo. Of course, it won’t go in the same place as my first one but at least I somewhat know what to expect. I’m a little nervous but mostly excited. I know I will always reminisce about getting my first tattoo because it was a day full of closure and meaning for both my parents and me.

55

Peppermint Rooster Review

Hayley Day Smartphones steal your soul

56

In the world we live in today, smartphones are everywhere.

Even older and nontechnical people have them. They are an all in one device that you can access at all times. You have your email, navigation system, social media, and many more different accessible things all at the touch of your fingertips. They’re becoming more and more affordable and unfordable at the same time. What if in this day and age, they’re becoming more negative than you realize? In my experience with mobile devices, they are more negative than positive. They take away much-needed face-to-face communication, they’re distracting, and they bring down our self-esteem.

Many kids in this generation stay inside texting or are on social media, rather than communicating with others. They spend so much time on their phone, their communication skills are lacking in many ways. When I was in high school, there were many times I would see people texting their significant others or friends on the phone and they were right in front of them. They were like zombies that couldn’t live without brains; except for them, it was that they couldn’t live without their cellular devices. Not being able to feel comfortable having any type of interaction with someone is a very unhealthy lifestyle. I used to have a best friend named Connor and she couldn’t carry a verbal conversation with anyone except with me, for more than five minutes without eventually going into abbreviations. We parted ways eventually due to other circumstances but fortunately, her communication skills have really improved. Fortunately, I was never that bad and I think it’s sad how much phones have negatively affected our lives. I’ll admit I used to be on my phone almost constantly until I took an unplugged vacation with my family sometime last summer. At that point, I realized my receiver had me wrapped around its wires and I hadn’t even realized it.

Some people are attached to their devices like others are to their significant others. For some people, they aren’t a necessity but for others, they can’t go two minutes without acting as if they miss their beloved other half. In a way, cellular devices are kind of like dating.

You feel like you have to be on it all day, like some people feel they have to always hang out with their partner. When you are constantly on your mobile, it needs recharged just like some people need to socially recharge. When the wifi shuts off or your device freezes, you

Volume 8, Spring 2020

get frustrated just as you would feel if your partner does something to upset you. You maintain a relationship with your telephone, as you would with a person. The feeling of always needing to be close to your phone results in it being distracting. I will admit at times in class or other times when I shouldn’t be on my phone, I am. I always hear a soft silk-like voice though telling me You paid over two thousand dollars for college this semester alone, so you can stay off your phone until class ends. Most of the time, I do pretty well staying off of it but there are still times when it’s difficult and I give in. For some, it’s much more dangerous. I used to have friends that would get on their phones while they were driving and it scared me to death. I have been in a few car accidents in my life, so even the mere thought of texting and driving makes my skin crawl in the most uncomfortable way I’ve come to know.

Social Media has become a big part of many people’s everyday lives. There’s Snapchat, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and many other ways to send people direct messages. For example, on most of the social media apps out there, you can choose whether to be private, public, or just to be seen by your friends. For the public accounts, anyone can see what you post. Seen by friends is limited to the people you follow and private is limited to people that have to follow you in order to see what you post. There are even some circumstances where people go through and pick some of their closest friends to share or post something nobody else can see, even when they’re following that person. The part about social media that can be deemed more ineffective than not, is everyone is behind their own screen and not facing the person they’re conversing with.

This can become an issue when people start attacking others’ dignities or confidence. When you are behind a screen, your confidence goes up and you may say something you wouldn’t normally say to someone face to face. I had a girl in my Art class that I thought was very nice but when I started following her on Instagram, it was as if she was a completely different person. She would comment on some people’s selfie posts with “You may think you’re pretty and special but to me you’re just a piece of trash, ugly girl,” or “Why are you even posting your face when nobody wants to see it?” To this day I don’t think she would’ve commented those atrocities if she was face to face with those people. A little bit of research was required to make more examples and a website called 7 Real Life Cyberbullying Horror Stories, another tragic soul had her dignity attacked. Her name was Ashlynn Conner and she was only ten 57

Peppermint Rooster Review

years old. She was called “fat” and “ugly” first, but then it began to go as far as saying she was a “slut.” It became such a problem for Ashlynn that she begged her mom to be homeschooled, but her mother refused. The cyberbullying continued at home even through social media. In the end, Ashlynn was lost and didn’t know who she was anymore. She took her own life and her sister found her hanging in her closet by a scarf. This isn’t the first case of someone committing suicide. There are many more cases of little kids, teens, and even adults killing themselves because they are being attacked by something they probably can’t change. I have always been one to comment encouraging thoughts and words because I know how it feels to have your confidence and self-esteem ripped out from under you like a rug and it hurts. Social media continues to make people more brave and outgoing in negative ways by attacking others that are more susceptible to being vulnerable.

Oftentimes, I think about the future and how it may be someday.

Will we all be zombies addicted to our devices? Will we even be allowed to drive cars anymore because of how bad our addictions may be? I am a very curious person and I like to think about these types of questions when I’m in bed, or even late at night. The things that are affecting our everyday lives are our lack of communication skills, how our devices interfere with life, and the destruction of our self-esteem. Maybe someday in the future, I will become obsessed with my device but for now, I will continue to focus more on the negative aspects, rather than the positive.

58

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Stefanie Pryor Night Out 1 The only town large enough to support a Walmart in our area was a twenty-minute drive from our little Midwestern hometown.

This is where Jamie and I spent that brisk and sunny Saturday morning, knocking out our weekly shopping together like we do every weekend.

“Come on Stacy, we rarely get the opportunity to let loose anymore. We need to take advantage of every opportunity we can get,” Jamie said and threw me her signature pouty face as we maneuvered through a group of shoppers and carts gathered at a sample booth.

Her eyes were so strikingly blue that they reminded me of sapphires.

They were set into an oval face with dainty and unremarkable features that just served to intensify the hypnotizing effects of her gaze.

Even her long sun-colored hair that fell just past her shoulder blades seemed to be a studio backdrop created just for her gemstone eyes.

There was an icy wildfire that danced in those eyes though, and she was the mastermind behind all of the crazy stories we amassed over the twenty-five years of our friendship. She had been tempered significantly by the last eight years of domestic life, but the rebellious streak that defined her personality was only suppressed, boiling just beneath the surface like a magma chamber.

“I don’t know, Jamie. The baby is still sick,” I said as we turned into the condiments aisle.

“You’re making excuses. Mark is a great dad. Caden will be fine.”

“I know,” I said defeatedly as I examined a bottle of organic ketchup. “Do you think organic ketchup is really worth spending an extra dollar-fifty for?”

“No, get the ninety-eight-cent bottle. The kids will survive, and it tastes better anyway.” I put the organic ketchup back and placed the cheap bottle into my cart, and we moved down to the peanut butter.

“What’s your hang-up about tonight?” she asked as she haphazardly tossed a jar of Great Value Hazelnut Spread into her cart. “It’s your thirtieth birthday. We have to celebrate!”

“Today just feels…weird.” I’m usually just as down to get out

59

Peppermint Rooster Review

and let loose as she is. We both got married when we were twenty-two (Mark and Isaac were best friends as well when we met them and still are) and fell pregnant within a few weeks of each other with all three of our pregnancies. It wasn’t planned that way; it just happened. Life started to fly so fast that, without our periodic escapes, we would have disappeared into our new identities as wives and mothers.

“That’s because it finally feels like fall today,” she said as we moved out of the condiment aisle. “That and because it’s your thirtieth. It felt weird for me too on mine. I need bananas and then I’m finished. What do you have left?”

“Bananas,” I laughed. “And then I’m finished as well.” A woman near me with a cart full of kids and Juicy Juice shot me a dirty look and hurried off. “What was her problem?” I asked. Jaime just shrugged as she picked out our bananas. Hers were yellow and blemish free, and mine a bit greener (the way my five-year-old daughter, Lizzie, insists on having them). “I guess you’re right, I’ll go. What time do you want to leave?”

“I’ll be at your house after dinner, about seven-thirty,” she replied triumphantly. “Wear that green dress you bought last month at JCPenney’s. It’s the perfect color against your green eyes and dark hair. You looked smoking in it.”

“Alright,” I said as I smiled, soaking up the compliment. “I am not wearing heels though. My hips are still jacked up from that car accident. You ready to check out?”

“Yep. Let’s get the hell out of here before my heels take another hit from a depth-perceptionally challenged old lady!” I laughed loudly at her comment and drew a disapproving look from an elderly woman perusing the apple stand as we moved off toward the checkout lanes.

2 Later that evening, I finished getting ready and stepped into our large living room. Mark and our seven-year-old son Jake were sitting on the overstuffed gray sectional in our living room and were focused on the sixty-five-inch tv that hung on the wall above the fireplace. They were playing Minecraft together and their laughter was mixed with the Morse code of their clacking controllers. Lizzie was sitting quietly on the gray and blue bohemian style rug in front of them, watching their progress and eating one of her newly bought 60

Volume 8, Spring 2020

bananas. Every other bite, she would slip a piece to our three-yearold chihuahua. “Poor Sam is going to get backed up again, Lizzie.

That banana is for you.”

“Oh, sorry Mommy,” she said. “Sammy, you can’t have anymore. You won’t be able to shist again,” she said, emphasizing her mispronounced version of the word.

“Lizzie, that’s an adult word. You should say poop instead,” Mark corrected her.

“So, what do you think, Mark? How do I look?”

“Looks fine, babe. I don’t know why you need to get all dressed up though,” he replied as he briefly glanced my way. I sighed quietly, disappointed and feeling invisible at his lack of interest. I walked over to the distressed white end table next to Mark and looked at the baby’s video monitor. Caden was snoozing peacefully with his hands tucked under his chubby belly and his rump in the air. I felt a pang of guilt as I set the monitor back on the table facing Mark.

“Almost Jamie time,” I said as I looked up at the ornate clock on the wall next to the hallway I had just come from. It made a little chime marking the half hour, and as if on cue, I heard Jamie’s car pull into the gravel driveway. “Alright, I’m off. Love you guys,” I said as I threw on my sweater.

“Tell her we miss her around here,” he called out as I shut the door behind me.

3 “Where are we headed tonight, lady?” I asked excitedly as I approached Jamie standing like a gorgeous specter in my driveway.

She was dressed in a blue-violet dress and had accented the color with silver pumps and jewelry. The color of the dress added a hint of purple to her sapphire eyes, and the silver made her glow in the night. Many women are jealous of her, but I never was. I admired her. She was a star in a sea of monotonous gray, and I was grateful to have her in my life.

“We, my Dear, are going to Chip’s. Sidewinder is playing there tonight, so it’s going to be a massive party,” she replied. Macaboro may have been tiny, but it certainly wasn’t lacking in taverns…or churches. Saturday night sinners prayed away the previous night’s transgressions on Sunday morning before repeating the cycle the very next weekend.

“Sweet,” I replied as we headed up town on foot. We had been 61

Peppermint Rooster Review

in a car accident two years ago after a night out. I was the driver that night and, though I had planned to stay sober, I was intoxicated by the time we left Chip’s. I drifted off the roadway a little to the right, over-corrected, and ended up crashing my brand new 2017 Jeep Cherokee into the tree line on the left side of the road. That’s also the night that we found out we were both pregnant with our third children while at the hospital. Now we walk anytime alcohol may be involved. No possibility of making a bad judgment and getting behind the wheel that way.

4 As we approached Chip’s, we could hear nineties alternative rock blasting from within. There was a mass of people outside congregated into little groups smoking Marlboros while loudly talking and laughing over one another. As we passed through the cloud of smoke outside the entrance, we spotted Sheriff Michaels near the door of the log cabin that served as Macaboro’s main entertainment establishment. The neon sign displaying the name Chip’s hung just above his head.

“Hey Stace, you look nice tonight.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. You the bouncer tonight?” I joked.

“Ha ha, no. Dale will be here in a few minutes. I’m too old for these parties anymore. I put the younger guys on them now while I sit home and watch my shows!”

“Speaking of Dale, I think that’s him pulling in from the side street behind you.”

The aged sheriff looked back over his left shoulder. “Sure is, Stace. Wish we could hire you on down at the station. Your observational skills are stellar.”

“Maybe in another life,” I replied.

“Well, I better go see Dale and get him up to speed. You be careful tonight, darling,” he said as he headed off toward Dale’s cruiser.

Jamie and I turned to go into the tavern. “I wonder who is going to take over when he retires,” Jamie asked.

“Certainly not Dale,” I replied, laughing.

The sheriff cast a look back over his shoulder at me before Jamie and I entered the dark interior of the bar.

As we entered, the sound of Sidewinder playing their version of “Lightening Crashes” by Live washed over us as we were enveloped by the crowd. “Let’s get a drink,” Jaime shouted into my ear, trying 62

Volume 8, Spring 2020

to make herself heard above the cacophony of sound.

“Let’s do,” I replied as we pushed our way through to the bar positioned along the right wall of the large interior of the tavern. Usually there are pool tables, dartboards, and other games dotting the interior, but tonight they had all been removed to allow a stage and dance floor to be erected. Several cheap black metal bar tables lined the walls, but they were taken already, and those sitting at them were made claustrophobic by the mass of gyrating bodies on the overflowing dance floor.

As we waited for Sheila, the best bartender on the staff, to get around to us, a tall handsome dark-haired man to my left leaned over to me and said, “Crazy in here tonight, huh?”

“That’s an understatement,” I replied smiling and laughing.

“I’m Craig,” he replied, “and that’s my buddy Kyle coming back from the Men’s. You here with anybody?”

“Yeah, I’m Stacy. My friend Jamie and I are out celebrating my birthday tonight.” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder to indicate Jamie standing behind me.

“Is ‘friend’ code for ‘bodyguard’?” he asked with an amused and slightly confused look on his face. I laughed.

“No, why?” I asked as I turned to look at Jamie. Instead of seeing Jamie though I saw a large fifty something year old man with a full beard and leather biker’s vest standing in her place. “Christ on a Cracker! That is most certainly NOT Jamie,” I exclaimed laughing.

“She probably ran off to the potty, and I didn’t hear her tell me.”

“I’m sure she’ll be right back,” Kyle said chuckling. He had been listening to our conversation while trying to get Sheila’s attention after he had joined us.

“Unless she gets sidetracked,” I sighed. Jamie had a habit of behaving a bit inappropriately for a married woman, and on our nights out, I would often have to drag her away from some shlub on the dance floor. Kyle’s persistence paid off and Sheila approached us sweaty and winded.

“Sorry for the wait. What are you guys drinking tonight?” Sheila asked, studying us with her copper eyes while retying her dirty blond hair behind her head.

“Since she’s here, what are you having, Stacy?” Craig asked.

“Oh, I’m a tequila girl.”

“Nice,” Craig replied. He turned back to Sheila. “We need three shots of Patron Silver, two bottles of Budweiser, and a Tequila Sunrise.”

“You got it,” Sheila said as she started grabbing glasses from under the counter.

63

Peppermint Rooster Review

“Man, where is she?” I asked rhetorically as I turned and scanned the room for Jaime. I turned back and saw that Sheila had set our drinks on the bar in front of us and Craig was passing her two bills.

“Keep the change, gorgeous,” he said and winked at her. Sheila nodded in response and headed off to the register. “Ready to do these shots?” he asked.

“3…2…1,” Kyle counted down and we tossed back our shots simultaneously. I chased the tequila with a substantial swig of my Tequila Sunrise. Jaime still hadn’t returned. I started to get worried. I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp and set the glass on the bar.

“Well, thanks for the drink and the company, Craig, but I need to go find my friend.”

“Aww, come on,” he replied, “I thought we were hitting it off?”

“Whoa, I’m married, but it was nice meeting you guys,” I said as I turned towards the crowd.

“Ya, you’ll change your mind once that tequila kicks in, bitch,” he said laughing.

“What an asshole,” I said as I rolled my eyes and took off into the throng of bodies.

5 I headed off to the ladies’ room at the left side of the building to find Jamie. She hadn’t even had a drink yet. There’s no way she had already reverted to her primitive nature. A line extended out of the open bathroom door and along the tables lined up on that wall. “Well, that explains a lot,” I thought to myself. I scanned the line for her but saw no hint of her presence, so I walked up to the open door and shouted in for her.

“Jaimeesh snot hoooome,” followed by giggles and a hiccup came from within the bathroom.

I sighed. “She’s probably dancing,” I reasoned to myself as I made my way onto the dance floor. I began sweating pretty badly and started to feel a bit dizzy as I searched the seizing bodies for my best friend.

She was nowhere to be found though. “I gotta get some air,” I thought, “Maybe Dale has seen her.”

I made my way back through the hot, suffocating tavern to the front door and stumbled out into the cool night air. “Whoa, you ok, Stacy?”

Dale asked, startled at seeing me out of sorts.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I just need some air. Have you seen Jamie around?”

64

Volume 8, Spring 2020

“Not in a long time, Stacy.” His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. “You sure you’re alright? Ya want me to call Mark for you?”

“No, please don’t. He’s with the kids. I think I just drank a little too fast.” His eyebrows relaxed a bit.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I am. I’ll be fine. I think I may go ahead and head home though.”

“Well, take the path through the wooded area behind the church.

It’ll get you to your side of town quicker.”

“Thanks, Dale,” I said as I started walking toward the church just to the left across the street.

“Oh hey,” I called back to him, “If you see Jamie, can you tell her sorry for me and let her know what’s up?”

“Uh, sure, Stacy,” he said, eyebrows furrowed again. He started to reach into his back pocket as I turned back towards the church.

6 As I made my way around to the back of the octagonal brick building of the First Christian Church, I suddenly became aware of how dark the night was. There was no moon out that night, and at some point, clouds had rolled in, obscuring any light from the stars. The temperature had dropped considerably as well, and I was regretting my decision to wear a dress. It only takes about thirty minutes to walk home from here, I thought to myself in an effort to bolster my courage. I pulled in a lung full of air and headed onto the path behind the church. Where the hell did Jaime go? I can’t believe that she would ditch me on our first big night out like this since the accident! I began to feel very hurt and angry with her for the first time that I could remember. It was her idea in the first place. I didn’t even want to go!

I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts by a rustle behind me.

What was that? I thought as I turned to look. I could see nothing but darkness and the icy puffs of my breath. “Probably just an animal,” I said aloud this time. I turned back around and quickened my pace.

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable sound of a set of footfalls other than my own coming from closer behind me this time. My heart leaped into my throat, and I could feel it beating in my temples.

Jesus, why did I listen to Dale? I thought. “Who’s there?” I called out into the darkness. Nothing. Then “Hummnhuh,” the very human sound of a man clearing his voice came from the darkness about fifteen yards behind me toward the church. My body flew into motion 65

Peppermint Rooster Review

with an explosion of adrenaline, and I tore off running as fast as I could along the path toward my side of town.

Suddenly, I saw a flashlight flick on in front of me and a familiar voice called out from behind me. “Hey Kyle! That’s her, man!” It was Craig.

Panic wormed its way up my spine, and my bladder let loose. I broke left off of the path into the thickness of the woods. As soon as I did, I knew I had made a mistake. This direction took me towards the edge of town instead of into a populated area. I felt the hot moisture of Craig’s breath pulsing onto the back of my neck as I ran. Please don’t trip, I plead over and over in my head as I desperately pushed the limits of my physical abilities. The damp chill of the moonless night was oppressive. It was as though nature itself was against me, trying to impede my escape. “Please help me!” I screamed into the dense forest with all the breath I could pull from my oxygen-starved lungs. I listened intently for a response or any sound of human activity that would at least give me an idea of which way to run, but the only sound that returned to my ears was the distant rumble of thunder and the laborious breathing of my pursuer combined with my own. My lungs, sides, and legs were on fire as though I was being burned at the stake. Pure panic was the only energy source that kept my body moving, but I knew adrenaline would only hold out so long. “Oh God, Please!” I screamed into the night.

This time, I heard a faint response. “Oh God, Please,” came back to my ears from somewhere up ahead along with the sound of feet pounding on the moist leaf covered ground. It’s Jamie! I thought to myself. Hope surged though me, refueling my exhausted body, and pulling every ounce of energy I could, I somehow increased my speed. The presence behind me lessened a bit as I pulled away. “JAMIE!” I yelled out, “HELP ME!” Suddenly, my heart sank as my words were mimicked perfectly back to me once again. It’s just an echo, I thought as I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over my body.

However, that feeling was immediately replaced as I was flooded with a sudden realization. The tunnel that cut underneath the old train trestle just before the Macaboro city limit must be close ahead of me. That must be the source of the echo! Just on the other side of the tunnel, Sheriff Michaels’s farm sat off the road to the right. If I could make it there, I would be safe Yes, just a little bit further, I thought to myself, I’m going to make it! The pot-hole laden country road should appear just in front of me–right where it entered the tunnel and continued on into my little hometown. The ground un66

Volume 8, Spring 2020

der my feet hardened and the darkness lightened a bit as I tore out of the woods onto the pavement. Almost there! I thought elatedly. I could just barely make out the metallic edges of the tunnel about a hundred yards in front of me when I felt a searing pain in my ankle as one of the gaping maws in the neglected roadway swallowed my left foot. I was hurled with all the adrenaline-fueled desperation of my flight down to the cold hard pavement. “NOOO!” I screamed out as I watched the unforgiving road assimilate from the darkness and fill my field of vision.

7 I felt a searing pain in my head that seemed to engulf every neuron in my brain, and I tried to open my eyes. They wouldn’t open. It was as if they had been glued shut. I attempted to reach up and clear the obstruction, but my left hand hit something hard about three inches above my face, and I yelped in pain. Something was terribly wrong with my hand. Where was I? I cradled my useless left hand between my cushiony breasts and tried again with my right. Something crusty was covering my eyes and had matted my long dark brown hair to my forehead and cheeks. As I rubbed at the glue and freed my eyelids and hair, I discovered the source of the mysterious substance. I felt a hot sharp pain above my left eye just at the edge of my hairline, and as I explored the area further with my fingertips, hot liquid began running down my temple. I must have hit my head hard when I went down. Suddenly, panic began rising in my chest as my memory of the night’s events came surging back to me like a tsunami. The acrid smell of rubber was filling my nostrils and I heard slightly muffled voices coming from outside of whatever space I was in.

“You put her in the trunk?!”

“I was afraid she would flip out and take off again if she woke up! She’s fast!”

“Christ, man, open it up!” I heard a key enter the lock, and I prepared myself to bolt when it opened. As the lid opened, I popped straight up and swung wildly with my right arm. I connected with the fleshy face of one of my kidnappers and started scrambling from the trunk as fast as my injuries would allow. My foot slipped on the slick paint of the fiberglass bumper, once again gravity proved to be my enemy. However, this time I was saved from the hard pavement by a set of strong and familiar arms, and then I heard it. Mark’s voice.

67

Peppermint Rooster Review

“Whoa, Stacy. Calm down. I’ve got you, babe.” I instantly did what I was told, not out of obedience, but complete, overwhelming confusion. I quickly took stock of my surroundings as I tried to make sense of the situation and realized we were in Sheriff Michaels’ driveway. We hadn’t traveled far, so I must have only been out for about ten minutes or so.

“What is going on, Mark? I’m so confused. Where are the kids?”

“Your mom is with them,” he replied. “I called her over as soon as the sheriff called me.”

“How did the Sheriff know these guys were after me? They must have slipped something in my drink at the bar. I lost Jamie and then started feeling sick. Why did they bring me here? What is going on?”

“Hey, I don’t have to drug chicks to get laid, alright? I didn’t put nothing in your drink. My buddy Dale told me to find you and follow you and make sure you got home safe,” Craig said defensively with his arms crossed over his chest and a bit of blood oozing from his left nostril. His must’ve been the face my wild swing connected with. I was very satisfied to see that bit of blood.

“Why on Earth would Dale send you two douchebags after me?

Last time I checked, I wear big girl panties. I don’t require an escort,” I replied, fuming.

“Hey, watch it! I was just trying to make sure you got home safe like I was told.”

“I believe you earned that sentiment, Craig. Judging by the shape she’s in, I’d say you did her more harm than good here. If I could, I’d lock you up for being an idiot,” Sheriff Michaels said as he walked up in grey sweatpants and a white undershirt with his white hair fluffed up like spun sugar. I could see the glow from his TV lighting up the living room window behind him.

“Why did you call Mark, Sheriff?” I asked. My racing heart was slowing to a jog now and my head was clearing some. I was leaning into Mark, savoring the warmth and safety of his body. Unfortunately, the pain from my injuries was starting to intensify as well now that the adrenaline was subsiding.

“Dale gave me a call and said you were talking nonsense up at Chip’s. Told me he was worried about ya and that he sent ya through the woods and had his buddies follow you.”

I groaned as I shifted my weight onto my uninjured ankle.

“Freaking Dale,” I replied.

“Here Stacy. Come sit in the car. I’ve got an ambulance en route to take a look at you.”

68

Volume 8, Spring 2020

“Thanks Sheriff,” I replied, and Mark helped me hobble to the open back left car door of the ancient brick red Buick. As I sat down onto the worn red cloth seat, Mark crouched down in front of me.

“Stacy,” he said to me as he fixed my gaze with his green eyes, “Why were you at Chip’s in the first place?”

“That’s where Jamie and I went. That’s where we usually go on our big nights out. At least we used to before the littles were born.”

Mark was biting the corner of his lip and his brows were furrowed with concern. “Why is that so shocking?”

“Dale said you were asking him if he had seen her outside the bar tonight. Is that right?”

“Yeah, she disappeared as soon as we got up to the bar and I met the charismatic Craig over there. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I’m really worried about her.” Mark looked at the ground and squeezed my uninjured hand lovingly. He let out a sigh. “What’s the matter, Mark?” He returned his gaze to mine and put a hand on my cheek.

“Stacy, how long have you been hanging out with Jamie?”

“What kind of question is that, Mark?” I asked getting irritated with this pointless line of questioning. “You know damn well that she and I have been friends since we were little. We haven’t gone out since the babies, but we still go shopping every weekend just like we always have.”

“I should have been paying more attention,” Mark said as he dropped his gaze to the ground again and took my one good hand in both of his. “I should have caught on sooner.”

“What the hell are you talking about Mark? You are the one not making sense tonight,” I said. I could hear the sirens from the ambulance coming up the road towards the sheriff’s house now. When Mark returned his gaze to mine, his concern was replaced with a look of serious resolve. He held my hands tighter.

“Stacy, Jamie and her baby died in the accident two years ago today. She never even knew she was pregnant. There’s no way she was with you tonight or any weekend since the accident.”

I ripped my hands out of his grasp. “You’re lying!” I hissed at him. “You’re Lying! Why would you say that?!” I screamed at him.

“Why would you say that?! Why would you try to hurt me like that?!

I shouted as tears began pouring from my eyes.

“Stacy, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.” As Mark said this, the ambulance was pulling into the Sheriff’s drive.

“What is going on? I don’t understand what’s happening tonight.

The world has gone crazy!”

69

Peppermint Rooster Review

“Mark, the paramedics are here,” the sheriff said as he walked up respectfully behind my husband. “You have to sign for the psych eval if you want it done.”

Mark sighed and hung his head. When he looked back up at me, he had tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Stacy. I have to get you help.”

He looked back at the Sheriff. “I don’t see what choice I have Sheriff. Where are the papers?”

“Wait, what are you doing? Are you committing me? You can’t be serious!” Suddenly the paramedics appeared next to Mark pushing a gurney. “This can’t be happening right now,” I said quietly to myself as I shook my head in an effort to clear it. “This has to be a nightmare. Wake up Stacy. Wake up Stacy.” I repeated this over and over to myself as the paramedics strapped me to the white-sheeted gurney and injected some clear fluid into the vein in my elbow.

8 I awoke in this stark off-white room several hours ago. The walls are lined with off-white versions of those pads that line the walls in school gymnasiums. The ones that at least one kid in every class would run into and break their wrist during line drills. Even my blankets are off-white rather than the crisp white that hospitals usually pride themselves on. That’s how I know this is a dream. Hospitals would never have off-white blankets. So, I just keep telling myself to wake up. That man is looking at me through the window again. He’s a demon. I know it because he has emeralds for eyes.

When he looks at me through the window, I shout it. “WAKE UP, STACY! WAKE UP!”

70

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Tammi Devening Domestic Violence I have experienced an immense amount of trauma in the past few years due to Domestic Violence. However, I do not consider myself a Domestic Violence victim anymore. I am a Survivor. I incurred verbal, mental, emotional, psychological, sexual, and physical abuse for years from the man who swore he wanted me forever. I met my abuser in 2012, became intimate with him, and moved back to Illinois to pursue a relationship with him. When I first met him, I would have never in a million years thought he would turn into the monster I divorced.

I moved in with my father when I came back to Illinois, then my abuser convinced me it would be better if I lived with him since he had a three-bedroom house that would be perfect for me and my children. The abuse started out as control over who I talked to and visited then ended in violence. I married my abuser in July of 2013.

I was so in love; didn’t think he would ever harm me. He loved me and I was everything he dreamed of and we had a family. Then he cheated on me several times and started using drugs behind my back.

The abuse would remain verbal, emotional, psychological, and mental until I found out I was pregnant with our son in April of 2016. Then the abuse turned physical. He would punch walls right next to my head, break doors off hinges, throw me on the bed or couch to get my attention. I was scared for myself and my unborn child. I had a very high-risk pregnancy due to being diagnosed with a very rare kidney disease, one that affects 1 in 10,000 people. I had multiple hospital stays due to my diagnosis and every time he would be very agitated that I had to be in the hospital because it interfered with his drug use or business of selling drugs. When I gave birth at 36 weeks, my son had to be transferred to St. Louis Children’s Hospital for losing too much body weight and I was to blame for that, according to him. I stayed with my son for the first few days of his life when his big brother asked me to come home because he was brainwashed into thinking the reason I wasn’t there was because I didn’t love him or want him. Once my son was born, I gave him an ultimatum, either the drugs or your family. He chose his family or so I thought. He continued to use and sell drugs behind my back.

When I found out about his continued drug activities, I left for

71

Peppermint Rooster Review

the first time. This was in July 2017. I got an order of protection after he threatened to come to my work and beat me with a baseball bat. This would be the first of many orders of protection that I obtained. I stayed gone for a few weeks then he convinced me that he needed me by threatening suicide and attempting to kill himself by sitting in a locked car in the direct sunlight until his dad found him.

His family convinced me I needed to come home because he needed me. I stayed for a while until December 2017 when I kicked him out. Again, I got an order of protection. This time I filed for divorce too. I again fell for the whole I’ve changed routine when we went to mediation for the baby. I dropped the order of protection in April 2018 and he moved back in with me. We were doing good until I dropped the divorce in September 2018. That is when it became physically and sexually violent. He threw things at me barely missing me. He would force himself sexually on me. One time he was forcing sex he woke up the baby who was sleeping in the bed next to me and he looked at the baby and told the baby it’s ok buddy, you can cry with your mommy, it will be over soon. I was so ashamed of what happened, I didn’t tell anyone or call for help.

I left my abuser for the final time on December 31, 2018. I continued to let him come to visit our child until January 6, 2019 when his final act of abuse occurred. He came over to my home on January 6, 2019 to spend time with the baby and kept telling me he was going to beat me and kill me. He would eventually end up grabbing me by the throat while I held my son in my arms. My wake-up call was my two-year-old son screaming and crying stop daddy stop. I knew that I had to break the cycle. I knew that was the final time I would ever allow him to step into our lives. I stayed awake for two days straight, holding a pistol in my hands at night, listening to every noise. I went on January 7 to obtain an order of protection for the last and final time. When the hearing was held, he admitted under oath to putting his hands on me, to using drugs, and to abusing my children. I was awarded an injunctive order. He continued to email, text, call, and harass me. I petitioned the court for a Plenary Order of Protection. In April I was awarded the Plenary Order, which protected my children and myself and it is good for two years. I also filed for divorce. I was recently granted my divorce and awarded full custody of my son. That day I cried tears of joy. I won; I defeated my abuser for the last time.

One thing I want the world to know is Domestic Violence doesn’t happen overnight. It is something that the abuser does over a period 72

Volume 8, Spring 2020

to break you down so they can basically steal your soul. I felt like I was so alone because no one ever tells their story. I have made myself available to speak with other victims, so they don’t feel alone.

Domestic Violence is very real. It affects so many people, yet people still say to the victims why didn’t you just leave. My word of advice is: Don’t be judgmental, be a supportive friend or family member. You really don’t know what the victim has incurred during the years of abuse. You will endure triggers along the way, but you must push yourself past your self-doubt and your fears. Since I have left my abuser I have went back to college and completed my CNA program with a 4.0 GPA. I am also enrolled in my first semester of my pre-nursing degree. I am proof you can rise above the ashes of the abuse and conquer your dreams.

73

Peppermint Rooster Review

Olivia Schellingburger A Day at the Park Gone Wrong Most people like to go fishing. I am not most people. I do not like fishing, not one bit. I would rather stay inside curled up reading a good book. My father, on the other hand, loves to go fishing and is always trying to rope me into going with him. This summer, he thought it would be a great idea to go fishing on one of the hottest days of summer. So, my family and I packed the coolers with plenty of water and snacks and headed to Beaver Dam. My dog loved to go on car rides so we decided to bring her along as well. When we arrived at the park, all I could see was green pine and cedar trees everywhere I looked. The lakes were sparkling as the dazzling sun shone on them. It was truly a beautiful day; even if I don’t like to go outside, I’ll admit that. We drove around until we found the perfect spot to set up camp at.

I should take a minute to describe my mother Susan, who all my friends call their “second mother.” My mother is the best. She is like a teenager in an adult body. She has kind features and a loveable personality. That day she wore thin jeans and a plain red t-shirt. I was wearing the opposite, but still very comfortable yoga pants and a tie-dye t-shirt.

My father, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of my mother and me; he doesn’t have the kindest features. Most say that he is a scary looking man, but that is just because he doesn’t smile and has a scowl on his face 24/7. That day he was wearing cargo pants with a faded grey hoodie.

After we set up camp and had lunch, my mother and I sat in our lawn chairs watching the lake. My dog ran around like a child that got a hold of candy. I had brought a book to read and as I read the book my mom started to take a nap. With the wind blowing through the trees and the water lapping around us, no one would suspect anything to go wrong that day.

“Would you like a snack Olivia,” my mom groggily said as she woke from her nap.

“Sure mom, what is there?” I said as my stomach started to growl a little since we had a light lunch.

“Jerky, cheese, and sandwiches.”

“I’ll have the jerky please, mom.”

74

Volume 8, Spring 2020

As my mom handed me the jerky after she got one for herself, we sat and ate in quiet listening to the nature around us. Before we knew it, the day had passed us by and it was time to pack up camp and head home.

“Come help your mom pack the coolers,” my dad commanded packing up his tackle box.

As we packed up camp, I kept thinking to myself: It’s really hot out. I should have realized something was off then, but I didn’t and most people wouldn’t have thought anything of it either. I untied my dog from her leash and was about to head up the hill when my mom called out to me.

“Hey Olivia, carry these chairs up!”

“Ok mom,” I said as I slung the chairs up on my shoulder. My mother stopped me again.

“Are you ok? Your face is really red. Have you drunk enough water today?” she said with a worried look on her face.

“I’m fine mom. I’m just ready to leave. It’s really hot out.”

As I started up the hill with my dog practically pulling my shoulder out of the socket, I became out of breath pretty quickly. This was not new to me; I have always been a little out of shape and having asthma on top of it never helped. When I reached the top of the hill that seemed a lot steeper than it was before, I waited for my mom to unlock the car so that I could put the stuff that I was carrying in the trunk.

“Hurry up mom, unlock the car so that I can put this stuff up,” I yelled down to my mom as she was nearing the car.

“Hold on, I can’t get the keys,” she said, a little out of breath.

As we packed up the car, I wasn’t getting my breath back and I asked my father for a water bottle. He was a little mad because he put the cooler in the back. I needed water because I was so parched all of a sudden. When I got the water bottle I didn’t even get a chance to open it before I was holding the sides of the car watching black dots slowly consume my vision. I seemed to have passed out.

When I woke up it felt as if I was slowly emerging from thick water. The first thing I noticed was that I was laying in the road with my mother freaking out above me as she poured water down my neck.

“What happened Mom?” I said hoarsely, still wondering why I was laying on the street.

“You passed out, sweetie.”

75

Peppermint Rooster Review

I started crying a little for some unknown reason that was probably due to my disorientation. I started to feel sick to my stomach and I immediately told my mother.

“I don’t feel so good,” I said as my mother and father pushed me to the side a little so that if I did throw up, I wouldn’t get it on my clothes. After a little while of sitting on the ground getting my bearings and getting cold water poured down my back steadily, I was ready to get up. My parents helped me up slowly and got me into the car and buckled me in. They kept asking me if I felt as if I needed to go to the hospital, but I declined to go saying that I was fine just a little tired. After we made it home that night, I was told to relax. I was not allowed to fall asleep for a while as to make sure I did not have a concussion. I was not even allowed to take a shower without my mother at the door. It was a long and hard day for all of us and I was just happy for when I was allowed to go to bed for I was so tired I was falling asleep standing up.

We all learned that day to drink plenty of water to stay hydrated.

We also learned to not take me out into the heat for my body rebels against the outside. I even have a doctors’ note saying that I have to have water bottles with me pretty much all the time and that I can’t be outside that long in the heat. I will always remember from that day onward to stay hydrated and to listen to the signs that my body is telling me. That story will always be a great story to look back on and laugh a little on and to learn from.

76

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Nicole Sapp Life in Texas In 2011, I moved to Texas, away from my family for the first time. After I graduated high school, I moved to Texas with my then boyfriend Tony. This was the first time I had lived on my own and had to support myself. This experience has been life changing, and made me realize to never trust people from the internet.

Tony was a man who was almost 20 years older than myself, which in itself wasn’t that problem. The problem was how much of an abusive person he grew to be. We lived in the southeast corner of Texas for 3 years in a little town called Mauriceville. In Mauriceville, there was not very much to do, other than sit in our trailer, or mow the half of the 5-acres of land. Tony was typically a lazy individual who had the “man is the boss and is always right” mentality.

He never let me leave the house without him, and always monitored my communications.

On the 5-acres of land, there were chicken coops and a pond.

One time I did not listen to him about cleaning the house and he got mad at me. I was locked in one of the chicken coops for 3 days, and now I am not a fan of live chickens. He was the nicest person I had ever talked to online, but once we met in real life that quickly changed. One time I finally gained his trust and went to town for a job interview, and it took longer than he expected. When I returned he was not happy about how long I was gone, and thought I went and cheated on him. My punishment that day was to clean the house baseboards with a toothbrush.

One night, I finally got the courage to run away. I quickly packed up all of my belongings that I could fit in my car, and drove away.

When I got down the road, I realized that I barely had enough gas to make it all the way to Illinois. So, I stopped in a nearby town to ask to call my family. No one wanted to allow this stranger to use their phones. Finally, I went over to the bank and asked to use their phone, and they said “Sure.” When I was calling my family, no one answered, and I began to panic and get emotional. One of the tellers came over to me and said, “Let’s go get you some gas.” So we went to the gas station, filled up my tank, and went back to the bank. Back at the bank the other tellers had decided to round up $150, two water bottles, and some crackers. They told me that all they wanted in return was a phone call when I made it home.

77

Peppermint Rooster Review

Now I look back at all my past experiences and realize how lucky I was to be alive, and sometimes have people who will help me when I am getting out of a bad situation. I also learned to never trust anyone online, because they could be the nicest person ever, but you never know who you can trust until you meet them in person.

78

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Olivia Ernst Different Types of Theater Kids Theater is one of the most important aspects of society. Most people think of theater kids and they automatically go to the stereotypical loud and annoying kids. Those people do exist. But there are other kids that fall out of that category. This was the case at Roxana Senior High School. Roxana is known for their really amazing plays and musical from the Junior High School and the Senior High School. The types of theater kids that perform on Roxana stages are talented kids, along for the rides, and the stereotypes.

One type of theater kids would be the talented ones; these people are the ones that competently steal the show. These people are the ones that get all the leads. They can sing and act really well.

There were multiple people that were very talented on the Roxana stages. The talented ones can definitely be stuck up. However, most of them are very nice people. A person that sticks out is Josh. He has been getting leads since the sixth grade. Josh has always been able to sing. And has always been really good at it. Josh has always naturally been a star. He is one of the most down to earth people.

Josh never rubs it into people’s face that he gets a lead. Or that he can sing or act. Another really talented person on Roxana stages is Meg, who is also an amazing singer and actor. Meg has always been amazing–she was one of the main leads in her sixth-grade musical.

It was rare for a sixth grader to get such a big lead. Meg is also very down to earth and never put anyone down for having a lesser role.

Josh and Meg are both pursuing their acting careers at SIUE. Most of the time the stereotype is that theater kids are rude and dramatic.

That is the opposite at Roxana; the talented people most of the time are very down to earth. The school should be proud having such talented and nice people.

Another group of theater kids are the along for the ride; these people are either in the ensemble or apart of the crew. The ridealong kids are what make or break a show. Without the crew doing lights, backstage, and sound you wouldn’t have a show. Without an ensemble there wouldn’t be a musical. They are the least crazy of the bunch. Most of the along for the ride kids are shy. They want to be on stage or have a lead, but they are too shy to try out. One person that comes to mind is Olivia, who loved being a part of the ensemble for the junior high musicals at Roxana. Olivia loved feel79

Peppermint Rooster Review

ing like she was a part of something; she felt accepted. She wanted to have a bigger role, but she was fine being in the ensemble. In high school Olivia stopped doing theater. She was really busy and didn’t have time to do it anymore since she was occupied with sports and school–until one day when she was asked to be, stage manager for Into the Woods during her senior year. Even though she was busy Olivia was able to do the show. She happily accepted and loved every minute of being a part of the crew. Olivia loved seeing behind the scenes of everything. She loved being along for the ride. Olivia wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One of the most annoying types of theater kids are the stereotypes; these people are your typical loud and annoying kid you always see on a stage. They will constantly be singing some type of showtune even if it sounds bad. One person that stands out in particular is Drew. He is always singing and being loud. Drew is one of the most dramatic people to step foot on Roxana’s stages. Last year when Roxana performed Into the Woods Drew didn’t get the part that he wanted. Most people would be upset but move on. But not Drew–he threw a huge fit. He texted the director and demanded to get a bigger part. She just laughed at how dramatic he was being and told him to get over it. Drew always claims that he would be better in every bigger role he didn’t get. There is a reason he didn’t get the lead. Drew wasn’t the best compared to everyone else; even though he thought he was the best on the stage. Drew thinks he’s better than everyone else. He feeds off of drama and not just on the stage. Another person that comes to mind when thinking about the stereotype is Brandon. He tries to show off every second he gets. Brandon has always been like this. He will go off direction because he wanted to do something different. When he does this, we have to completely redo the scene because he ruined what the director wanted. Brandon also thinks that he is better than everyone. During the second show of Into the Woods Brandon was talking trash about the person on stage.

“I would be so much better than Drew. I would have been a much better wolf,” Brandon said without whispering while having a mic on.

“Brandon, stop! Drew got his spot because he was perfect for the wolf you have a mic on don’t talk,” Olivia, the stage manager, said getting fed up with him.

“I don’t care–you know I would have been better,” Brandon said and then started singing Drew’s part. While some stereotypes can 80

Volume 8, Spring 2020

be fun and nice people, most are annoying, and you should stay far away from them.

These were some of the different types of theater kids. A couple of other types of theater kids are the forced, and the criers. The forced are the people whose mom is forcing them to do something in high school. They are always being yelled at to go and do something. These people are always a part of the crew. The forced kids always pick something easy so they don’t have to do anything. The forced falls into the go along with the ride kids. The criers are some of the funniest people to watch. They are always crying about something. It could be the director yelling at them, not getting a certain part, and the end of a show. No one takes the criers seriously. They seem like they want unnecessary attention. The criers fall into the stereotypical category. Each type of theater kid has their weaknesses and strengths. The stereotypes and the theater kids can be in the same person. If you want to listen to drama go to the stereotypes.

Some people just want to have a normal conversation they go to the along for the rides. If people want to be moved by song they go to the talented theater kids.

81

Peppermint Rooster Review

Tony Bodul Types of People in Restaurants

82

Typically in fine dining, you would see people dressed professionally, showing up to eat expensive food and drink the fanciest wine. But that’s not always the case at Sam’s Steakhouse, which is a famous restaurant that has been around for over 100 years and is in Grantwood Village (a municipality inside of South St. Louis.) All different types of people show up to eat good steak, and a busser’s job is to make sure their nights go perfectly. The three main types of people who show up to eat at a restaurant include: the constant complainers, the professional athletes, and the heavy eaters and drinkers.

The first type of restaurant goers would be the ones who would rather complain than enjoy a nice night out. From the minute you greet them there is a problem with something that the workers have to fix. One busy Friday night, a woman came in by the name of Megan. She stood at about 5”0 (she was wearing heels so 5”3) and had ruby red hair which was styled exactly like Marilyn Monroe’s.

Max, the waiter who Tony was bussing for, came up to him and a few others and began to tell the staff, “Buddy we are in for a long night with that one.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Megan,” Tony replied, sounding depressed, as he looked around his section.

“You bet it is!” Max sarcastically answered.

As the food started filling onto her table, the complaints began flying out of her mouth like water flowing out of a bottle. She made both Max and Tony wait until she cut into her steak to see if it was good enough for her. Megan ordered a well-done steak and she began to bicker at the staff. “ Do you see that pink there sweetheart?”

Confused, Tony began to squint and look for any signs of a pink steak. “No ma’am,” he replied quickly.

She began to get frustrated and proceeding to ask for the manager. Megan began to say how rude the staff was because of the lackadaisical attitudes and how the workers made her feel rushed and uncomfortable. She then began to vocalize with a high pitched and blaring tone of voice how the steaks are overpriced and not good enough for the price she had to pay. To calm her down, the manager on duty gave her a free bottle of wine. The complainer always is the worst type of eater to encounter when working at a restaurant.

Volume 8, Spring 2020

The next type that you find is the one who is paid to play sports– from players and managers from the Blues and Cardinals organizations to players from the second division soccer team St. Louis FC. Some may find it crazy, but it is very common at the famous South County Steakhouse. Luckily, the St. Louis Blues defenseman Robert Bortuzzo came to the section where Tony was working. He made a reservation a few days prior and luckily the 17-year-old was assigned to be the busser for his table. The Steakhouse has a little private room that was built for a 2 top. He and his wife showed up through the back of the restaurant ready to eat. He was wearing a white button up Polo with black tight khaki pants, Gucci belt, and Gucci shoes, and a very bright gold watch on his wrist. Tony shook his hand nervously and began serving him some water and wine.

The two workers were constantly checking on them to make sure everything was perfect for them. The Blues player was extremely nice to them with a bright smile and a calm tone of voice and was never hesitant to ask any questions. They ordered the most expensive food on the menu, which was consisted of Lobster Mac and Cheese as an appetizer, the 16oz Cowboy Ribeye and 8oz Salmon as the entrees, and two creme brulees for dessert. The kitchen staff had to make sure it was perfectly prepared for them. They spent about two and a half hours in the private room. All of the attention was worth it because they had a great experience and left the server and busser an amazing tip $112 of which was 30% of the grand total of $375 which was needed for both of them.

The next type of eater would be the folks who do not leave any food on their plates after they eat. This group must be as far away from the walls as possible as there would be no way they would fit into the seats. By the end of the night they will have multiple empty soda and alcoholic beer glasses along with multiple dessert plates and coffee cups that have just been helplessly thrown around. One group in particular was the Jacobs family, which consisted of a 6’3 260 pound father with a bald head and missing two teeth in the front that looked like he just finished up a game in the NFL, along with his wife who was about 5’7 with dark brown hair and a pudgy face and ankles that looked like they were gasping for air because of the weight being put down on them, and the son who was about 11 years old but was probably about 200 pounds. They all ordered separate appetizers. (Each individual appetizer is meant to serve 3 people.)

After they’d slammed through each appetizer and about two more cups of soda, the entrees finally arrived. The family of 3 cleaned 83

Peppermint Rooster Review

through the meal and after looking at the plates, it almost looked as though it didn’t need to be put in the dishwasher because the plate was wiped clean. They ordered the restaurant famous Creme Brulee that is usually meant to be shared for couples, but once again each individual maintained cleaning the plates. Although it was a big tab and tip for the server, that is a common type of person to enter the famous St. Louis Steakhouse.

Working in the restaurant business is always stressful because you never know what you will find. Although most are not lucky enough to serve famous athletes it is still common. All of these eaters are everywhere and you are likely to come across one of these types. These groups all come in to enjoy a nice evening with family and friends but often times either enjoying it too much like the Jacobs family, or ruining the evening like Megan.

84

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Hannah Kahl Fear in Fiji How did I end up here? Two hundred miles offshore. No land in sight. My hands are sweatier than usual, and my leg is bouncing up and down. I’m sure everyone else on the 10-foot boat is shaking, not from fear, but from my foot tapping.

Fear. That’s all I feel. I can’t hear anything between the sound of the boat and the sound of the water underneath. Ugh. The water is just underneath me; no land, no sturdy, structured ground beneath me.

I’ve always been scared of the water. Well, of what is in the water. As a kid, I remember having recurring nightmares of drowning, or worse, being dragged down by what is beneath me.

I’m living a nightmare right now.

I was supposed to go on an island tour, one of the many adventures I would be taking in Fiji. I came here because I wanted to experience a culture different from American culture, and to just get out of my boring, going-through-the-motions every day routine.

Escaping is what I’m good at, until today I guess. I toured a village just the other day. Oh, how I wish I were there instead of here.

I remember before I entered the village I had to put on a cover-up because the shorts I was wearing were considered too short.

I looked around and saw all the braless Fijian women around me.

“Free the Nipple” was never a necessary protest in Fiji, but I’d considered starting a “Free the Leg” protest right then and there. I also noticed that almost no one was wearing shoes. If people did have shoes, they were worn-out flip-flops. I made a mental note to leave both pairs of my flip-flops at the hotel when I left for home. Hopefully my action would help people in need, even if it seemed to be an insignificant detail.

As I walked along the village’s beaten dirt path with my legs covered in the sweltering heat, my Fiji friends following barefoot, I wondered how I ever got away with thinking I was poor. America and Fiji have an exceptionally different understanding of the places they live in. Fiji doesn’t have housesit has shacks. Places made up of four walls, if you’re lucky. No doors. I hadn’t seen a door since I left the hotel. The windows, as well as the opening to enter, were left uncovered. Nobody had furniture, only mats they weaved from fallen leaves and sticks. No privacy whatsoever. Despite having next to nothing, each person greeted others with a smile and an excited

85

Peppermint Rooster Review

“Bula!”

The man’s house we went to belonged to him and his significant other and their eleven children. Child number twelve was on the way. I found it hard to accept the fact that all of his children didn’t have beds to sleep on. They all slept on the concrete floor, nearly piled on top of each other. The man told me that everybody has an abundance of children.

“The more children you have, the more land you have,” the man told me.

I hoped my parents didn’t have me just to gain more land.

After I left the man’s house, I realized that indeed each house was filled with kids–and dogs. I couldn’t imagine having that many little ones to look after. The children and the dogs all weighed almost nothing. The total weight of all the dogs in one household was nowhere near the weight of just one of my dogs in America. I met a dog named Skinny. Fitting name. Her pups surrounded her, begging to be fed. Everyone was begging to be fed. I reached down to pet her head. She was used to being around people. She had nearly 14 owners, afterall.

Everyone is poor here in Fiji. The way to tell if someone is worse off is to look in their yards. If they have plants, they are doing good.

If they don’t have plants, then they don’t have food. If I remember correctly, food is essential to living. So, if you’re living in Fiji and don’t have a garden full of plants and food, you’re ill-fated. All of the houses in the village we visited had plants. I silently praised God. I’m interrupted from my flashback by a wave of water that hits my face. I wipe the salt from my eyes and try to keep the distracting thoughts coming. The persistent crashing of the waves into my face is a constant reminder of the proximity of the water, the sharks. I can no longer tell if the salt dripping into my mouth is from the waves or from my nervous sweat. Yuck. Will I ever get out of this mess?

This is the most trouble I’ve ever gotten myself into. An ocean filled with sharks is beneath me. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get that thought–that fact–out of my head.

The guys at the front desk of the hotel told me they informed the workers of an island tour happening in the morning. Did they lie or was I just that gullible?

When I arrived at the site this morning, the workers told me they knew nothing about an island tour, just a “shark snorkeling adventure.” Sharks? Snorkeling with sharks? Maybe this is how they get 86

Volume 8, Spring 2020

away with murder of innocent tourists. Apparently, it was our fault (the customer is not always right in Fiji) because we were supposed to put our name on a non-existent chalkboard. Nine people genuinely signed up for the shark snorkeling tour. I blame them for making us go on this “adventure” as they called it.

As I take in my surroundings, I notice the water is a turquoise-like color I’m unfamiliar with. The waves are choppy as I gaze over the water. In a different context, the ocean would be pretty right now.

Two hours ago, we were on land. I’m envious of the grass now, being able to stay put, in the ground, and not in the water. I try to focus my eyes more so on the sky than the ocean. Not a cloud in sight.

Maybe the heavens above want a clear view of my last day on earth.

Maybe they want to see me suffer one last time before my eternal ever after.

I hear the Jaws theme in my head. The producers of Jaws actually couldn’t get their robotic shark to work correctly until the last days of filming, so they had to think of a way to make the shark still have a presence in the entire movie, hence the dunnn dunnn. I hope the Fijian sharks are as dysfunctional.

The boat is 10-feet in length. Sharks can sometimes be twice as long as that. Who thought it was a good idea to have a boat this small be packed full of this many people? For the first time in my life, the phrase “size matters” makes sense to me.

The bumpiness subsides as the boat starts to slow down. I am not ready. I will never be ready. I don’t want to jump in. Maybe they won’t make me.

The people around me start putting on their flippers and snorkeling masks. I look down at my ugly green flippers and wish I picked a different color. Maybe then I would want to put them on.

“Do we have to wear the flippers?” asks one of the girls who actually knew what she was getting herself into when she woke up this morning.

“Yes, in case the sharks chase after you,” the big Fijian man at the back of the boat answers. He laughs, proving he was only kidding. I finally breathe again. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath.

My stomach turns. The sharks. We are about to be surrounded by man-eating fish. I read somewhere that there are more deaths caused by vending machines than deaths from shark attacks. I look over the side of the boat. I would rather be crushed under a vending machine than have to jump in right now.

87

Peppermint Rooster Review

This seems like a suicide mission. Who in their right mind would willingly jump into an ocean full of sharks? Their fins aren’t piercing the surface, but I know they’re there.

The nine people who share this puny boat with me are all ready to jump in. I silently curse every single one of them for making this a shark snorkeling trip instead of an island tour. They are ready to jump in and ask the big man how to do so.

“Sit on the edge of the boat with your back to the water, then fall backwards.” Into impending death, I want to add to the big man’s instructions.

One by one, my enemies make their way to the side of the 10foot boat. It isn’t a far walk, but it seems to be a struggle trying to walk with those damn “life-saving” flippers. I watch as a young girl straps on her flippers and pulls on her mother’s arm. I close my mouth before I inform her of the dangers underneath and the amount of teeth sharks have. Who knows what the punishment of threatening a child is in Fiji? If swimming with sharks is their idea of fun, I certainly don’t want to find out their idea of punishment. I audibly gulp and mistakenly make eye contact with the skinny man at the front of the boat.

“Aren’t you gonna jump in?” the skinny Fijian man asks.

“Umm… will I get a refund if I don’t?” I answer, trying to stall.

The man just laughs. That must be a valid answer here, because all the Fijian people laugh and laugh at inappropriate times. I think it has something to do with their relaxed nature. I would take it as a compliment, but I’m truly not that funny.

The big man at the back of the boat says, “Are you scared?”

“Of course not! Scared of sharks? Who would ever be scared of an animal with that many teeth? Maybe I just really like this boat.

Oh, actually, I’m not a huge fan of the flippers. They’re too small for my feet anyway. I think I’ll just watch the water turn to crimson, while my companions are all eaten alive by blood-thirsty sharks.

Yeah, that seems better than being a contributor in turning the water red,” I nervously ramble.

Not to my surprise, the men answer with laughs. The big man has a surprisingly high-pitched giggle. It reminds me of a young schoolgirl. I suddenly remember having to learn about marine life in school, which was apparently vital to my academic career. This is where my fear of sharks comes from. Ever since my teacher informed us of the dietary habits of the daunting creatures, I vowed to never come close to them. But here I am.

88

Volume 8, Spring 2020

“The sharks are vegetarians, right?” I ask, trying to make them laugh this time. Maybe they’ll think I’m too funny to be eaten by sharks and they won’t make me jump in.

“They won’t hurt you. We do this every day with tons of people and only one has been attacked,” the big man with the girly laugh says. He widens his eyes. “She didn’t make it back to the hotel.”

I stare at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. Both of the men laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever heard.

“Americans are very easy to tease, especially scared ones,” the skinny one says.

“I’m not scared,” I counter. “Just worried.”

“Same thing,” the skinny man says.

“Come on, don’t be scared. These sharks, the sharks of Fiji, don’t eat people. We’ve never seen it happen, at least,” the big man says. Very reassuring. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you to the side of the boat.”

I look down at my white-knuckled hands. I didn’t realize I was holding the bench so tightly. My chest hurts, probably from the increasing pounding of my heart.

“I still need to put my flippers on,” I say.

“Oh, yes, they’ll help you escape any danger you see out there.”

“You really know how to reassure a woman, don’t you?” Sarcasm, my only friend in fear.

He laughs, of course.

I reach down and pick up a puke-green flipper. Maybe this color is fitting afterall. I put the flipper on my left foot.

“Not much arch support,” I mumble, surprised I can speak with this much fear in my body.

I pretend to struggle with putting on the matching flipper. Anything to stall. I start sweating more, as if my body thinks it will help keep the sharks away from me. The sun is blazing hot on my reef-safe- sunscreen-ed shoulders, but I know I’m sweating from nervousness.

“Ready to go in?” The audacity this guy has to ask me, a nervous wreck, if I’m ready to be thrown to the sharks for lunch!

I open my mouth, but only a small squeal comes out. The men are as surprised as I am at the un-human noise. The big man looks at me as though I’m crazy. How could someone with that girly of a laugh be so judgemental toward a lady screaming?

The big man grabs my hand, and pulls me to the side of the boat.

“I didn’t sign up for this, ya know,” I say, trying to pull back my 89

Peppermint Rooster Review

hand and get back to my cozy seat on the bench.

The man grabs my snorkel and goggles in his free hand. I definitely underestimated how strong this guy is. I try to come up with a way to get myself out of this mess.

“I’m gonna sue you if I die!” I yell, making the big man laugh and the skinny man roll his eyes. Such carefree people in Fiji. “Maybe you should take your motto into consideration: ‘Fiji time- no hurry, no worry’. Remember that? I’m on Fiji time. I’m in no hurry.

And you guys shouldn’t worry about it.”

My rambling doesn’t make the big man loosen his grip on my arm. He sits me on the edge of the boat. I have never felt more uncomfortable. “Hold your breath” is the only response I get before the big man pushes me to my awaiting doom.

90

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Kayla Howland The Bell Tower Daniel shivered as he pulled himself from the bank of the river and into a clump of sparse grass and gravel. He cut the lines of his parachute with shaking fingers. Though shivering, his hands and feet soaked and numb, he did not stand. He crawled on his stomach to a thick cluster of bushes before finally sitting up to collect himself. The banks of the river were very exposed, and it was a known fact that Axis patrols frequented the area.

He stripped off his clothes and wrung them out as best he could.

He put his wet socks in his waterproof pack and put on a new pair.

Without dry replacements for the rest of his ensemble, he put his wrung clothes back on, much to his discomfort. He swore on occasion in whispers, rubbing his hands together, wishing vehemently that he could build a fire; a fire was not an option. In fact, he doubted his safety even hidden in the dense foliage as he was. Every breath felt too loud, too harsh–every crack of leaves sounded like a bottle rocket in his mind. He needed to move–and soon. This was enemy territory. To forget that fact was a death sentence.

After crossing his legs to make room, Daniel pulled out the large, vinyl terrain map of the area from his pack. He spread it out and analyzed it, trying to find the harsh, cold river he had been purged from.

He hadn’t seen the bell tower, their target point, when he’d jumped from the plane. He had seen the twisting Rhône River below, a shining snake winding through endless forest and untouched fields. He was sure that the river he had found himself drenched in was not the Rhône–it wasn’t wide enough. Scanning the map, he realized his river could be one of several dozen tributaries. His best bet would be to follow the river downstream. He was bound to find the Rhône eventually.

Daniel expended a few minutes to do an equipment check. He frowned upon realizing his flashlight had busted and would no longer turn on. Everything else seemed to be in decent shape. He rolled up the map, put it away, and, after checking the bank was clear, collected his waterlogged parachute and hid it in the bushes. Satisfied, he threw his pack over his shoulder and headed towards the tree line.

He walked for several hours, dappled sunlight falling in summer contrast from the canopy. He followed the tributary and listened to the water. The sound of it was mesmerizing and he very nearly for-

91

Peppermint Rooster Review

got that he was walking through a dangerous place. The birds sung with no notion the countryside was torn apart by war; they flitted from branch to branch singing as they always had, merry and carefree.

The cold slap of reality hit Daniel when he realized suddenly that he had wandered into an open clearing. He had absent-mindedly been following a lovely little yellow bird that he had never seen before.

The fact he had become totally lost in thought scared him. There was no place for daydreams here–dreamers were the first to wander into a minefield, the first man a sniper picked off while scoping from his crow’s nest. Daniel promised himself he would be more vigilant and cursed the little yellow bird who mocked him with its beady black eyes until it lost interest.

The bell tower was part of a church in a small French town called Marais Lointain, which meant Distant Bog. It consisted of no more than fifteen-hundred civilians and had few public buildings.

Surrounded by dense forest and soggy, waterlogged marshland, the town of Distant Bog lived up to its name. The community was moderately sheltered from outside events and had managed to avoid occupation for longer than its more populous neighbors. Every week, the town had checked in with the FAFL and RAF air forces through HAM radio–until they stopped. Two weeks passed prior to Daniel’s deployment with no word from Distant Bog, leading FAFL forces to believe it had been overrun and was now occupied by Axis forces.

Daniel and his fellow soldiers were to investigate the state of Marais Lointain and report back.

After walking all evening, Daniel finally reached the end of the tributary and found the Rhône. Exhausted, with dusk approaching, and with no working flashlight, he made a crude shelter and decided to wait for morning. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, even on the hard earth. He dreamed of a yellow bird leading him into a minefield.

Daniel ate a disappointing soldier’s breakfast and filled his canteen in the river. He popped a Halazone tablet in and shook it before taking a drink and continuing his journey. The mission briefing had detailed that the town was about twelve miles inland from the Rhône and that he would have to cross at least two large valleys after departing the riverbank and a fair amount of woodland. There were only dirt roads leading to Distant Bog and those were not to be used in case of enemy patrols.

92

Volume 8, Spring 2020

The long walk towards the town was rather uneventful. Daniel wondered if he was taking the right path, his M1 Garand swinging on the strap around his neck, keeping pace. He checked his compass repeatedly. Marais Lointain was south of the Rhône but he had no notion how far west or east he needed to go or how far he had been blown off course when he landed in the tributary. He wondered if any of the others had made it to the bell tower already or if any of them were nearby, just as lost as him. There were six others: Sergeant Jack Sibley, and Porter Clemens–both Americans like Daniel, Jean Pehler, a Frenchman, Jonas Guzzemann, a German, and Frank Wright, a Brit.

After noon, Daniel finally reached what he believed to be the first valley in the brief–or maybe it was the second–it was unclear.

He walked along the edge of the valley, still staying in the trees until he no longer could; the valley grew narrow and long and, without going far around and wasting time, he had to cross into the open.

He aimed for a copse that provided some shelter halfway across and was nearly to it when he noticed that an eerie silence had overtaken the area. All birdsong ceased, as did the incessant hum of the crickets.

Daniel jogged quickly towards the copse, his boots squelching in the mud. The absence of sound made his skin crawl. He reached the copse and ducked into the undergrowth. Over the course of his life, Daniel had learned to pay attention to animals who always had an innate sense of what was normal and what was wrong. They had an instinct that man did not possess–or maybe Daniel did possess it: in the small hairs prickling up the back of his neck–in the butterflies that threatened to crawl up his throat from his stomach.

Daniel crouched in the copse for a very long time, his heart thrumming violently. Finally, the silence was broken. The loud tintinnabulation of a bell, on the opposite side of the valley from where he came, boomed across the open hillside. A cacophony of automatic gunfire shredded the silence; it was not until it stopped that Daniel noticed he had inadvertently stood up.

He froze. A man was standing in front of him, sharing the copse, about ten yards distant. Daniel’s gaze immediately fell on the man’s uniform–the dreaded four-armed black swastika on a white and red field, prima facie on his brassard. The man seemed as equally surprised to see Daniel as Daniel did him.

In a moment, the Nazi had his rifle pointed at Daniel, his finger hovering over the trigger. The man was young, no older than thirty, 93

Peppermint Rooster Review

like Daniel. He had no decoration on his lapel, save the eagle pin all Nazi uniforms possessed. He must be a grunt, Daniel thought–also like him. He had blonde hair and gray eyes that narrowed upon Daniel fiercely. He’s just a kid, Daniel thought, but so am I. The German said something very direct and commanding, though Daniel could hear the crack of anxiety in his voice. Daniel spoke no German, but it took no large leap of imagination to understand what was wanted of him. With the Nazi drawing on him, and his own weapon dangling near useless at his neck, Daniel held his hands out to his sides open-palmed. The Garand’s weight felt heavier–more of another threat in the situation than a comfort.

The bell tower stopped tolling; it did not toll the hour. It went far past the count of twelve. He wondered what was happening.

Daniel held his hands up further and used one of the few German words he knew: please.

“Bitte,” he continued in English, “Please. Please don’t shoot me.

I’ll put it down.”

Daniel pointed at his gun with emphasis. The German’s bright eyes followed Daniel’s movements closely, the muzzle of his FG42 trained on Daniel’s chest. The man took several steps forward without dropping his rifle. His gun was swaying–he was nervous. Daniel made a mental note of it.

The German approached Daniel and carefully removed the strap from round his neck, tossing his Garand in a cluster of ferns nearby.

He visually searched Daniel for other weapons. Content, he did not notice the utility knife hidden at Daniel’s ankle. Daniel tried desperately to not look in its direction. The man said something else in German in a tone that did not offer argument, and pushed on Daniel’s shoulder, prompting him to his knees.

Daniel closed his eyes. He felt the cold wet of the soil as it soaked the knees of his pants. The shocking, chill barrel of the German’s FG42 pressed into the back of his neck. Daniel opened his eyes and took in the green copse, the sun’s rays falling through the trees, the swaying of the small branches from the breeze. It didn’t seem like such a horrible place to die.

But the German didn’t move–didn’t pull the trigger–for, suddenly, another blast of gunfire rose up from the lower part of the valley.

This time, it was far closer. Both Daniel and the Nazi were distracted and watched as another man in Nazi garb took off running through the tall grass away from Marais Lointain. He kept looking over his shoulder and was puffing hard, his rifle clutched to his chest. The 94

Volume 8, Spring 2020

man’s shoulder was soaked in dark blood. The blonde Nazi looked at Daniel and they shared the same look of worry.

Another flurry of motion tore across the valley after the man, something short and long, below the grass line–three dark shapes.

Daniel’s first thought, which was absurd, was that the man was being pursued by several large otters, but they moved with such an unnatural fluidity and speed, Daniel dismissed the idea–Earthen creatures didn’t move that way.

The running man tripped, splashing water and mud over his legs.

Both watching men winced–it seemed the runner might fall–but the man regained his footing and kept going. He paused and turned his rifle on his pursuers, spraying the area behind him in hellfire. The three slinking shapes broke apart: one on the man’s left, the other two on his right. The man yelled something desperate in German that Daniel didn’t comprehend. Daniel was reminded of the old western films back home–the desperado yelling after the pursuant cowboys that they’d never take him alive!

Daniel’s pleasant memory was shattered though when the man suddenly took a hard dive. He dropped his rifle in the mud with a splash and scrambled quickly to grab it. When he finally did, it was too late. The demonic little ermine fell on him lightning fast.

In the murky puddle where he fell, Daniel could see the creatures more clearly. They were obviously not otters. They were hairless with dark skin and had long quills sticking out from their necks and down their backs and tails. Their muzzles were sharp and ratlike, their mouths lipless, teeth like thin needles, exposed. They had many black eyes, alike to a spider. The tips of their noses were white and hard looking like bone and they used them to terrible effect.

The fallen man, flat on his back, held down the trigger and fired an arc of bullets upwards. He started to scream and Daniel’s stomach turned. The creatures swarmed over him, making strange clicking noises, until finally the man stopped struggling and the valley once again became silent.

Seeing the fear in the Nazi beside him, Daniel was reminded they were more similar than he liked. The two men watched the squirming creatures below which appeared to be eating the fallen soldier. Neither man dared move in the copse. The young Nazi had knelt to one knee in front of Daniel as if his being lower hid him better.

After a long time waiting, watching the not-otters dig nose-deep into the dead man, the creatures seemed to lose interest and scurried 95

Peppermint Rooster Review

back up the valley towards Marais Lointain. The men waited until they were definitively out of sight before they finally began to move and breathe normally.

Daniel raggedly exhaled, “What the hell were those?”

The German shrugged, “Monströs.”

Daniel shot a look at the German, “Wait, did you just understand me?”

The German nodded, “Some American Television.”

Daniel frowned. The man’s accent was terribly thick–so much so it was near impossible to make out–but it was better than nothing.

“They went towards Marais Lointain,” Daniel pointed.

The Nazi nodded and said something in German before continuing in English, “We see?”

Daniel moved to stand up. The Nazi reluctantly allowed him to before pointing to Daniel’s Garand in the ferns.

“Take,” he motioned towards the Garand.

The German followed Daniel with his rifle, but the tension was hard to maintain and he finally dropped his muzzle. The sun was getting lower in the sky and neither of them wanted to stay in the copse in the dark. The German also lacked a light source. They pressed on unenthusiastically together–neither wanting to be alone–neither willing to drop their guard. The fact the German allowed him his rifle proved that the Nazi was more afraid of the otters than he was of Daniel.

With both armed again, the Nazi repeated his ominous question, “We see?”

Daniel took that to mean: We see what’s happening in the village? Daniel anxiously bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to answer but, with the German pressing the question, he agreed. Daniel led them, the Nazi trusting him enough to allow him a weapon but not enough to let him out of his sight. Daniel didn’t really mind.

It felt much better to have a man at his back–enemy or not. Skirting the valley, pausing and staying hidden along the way, took over an hour and, fearing nightfall, the two men stopped near a stream to rest for the night on the outskirts of town. They had no idea what awaited them in the village and chose to wait rather than go in blindly.

They took shifts resting against the same oak tree. Daniel took first shift while the German rested. He noticed nothing amiss, though it was eerily silent and he noted there were no lights on in the village. When he woke the German for his shift, they both listened as a strange scratching sound, like nails on wood, came from the house 96

Volume 8, Spring 2020

nearest them, but it ceased and Daniel went to sleep, the German watching over him.

Daniel doubted he would sleep but he was surprised how quickly exhaustion dragged him under. He slept at least a few hours before he was awoken with a jolt sometime in the early morning by someone putting a hand over his mouth. At first, he tried to squirm away until he heard the German hush him quietly. The hand was removed and placed tentatively on his shoulder; the German’s hand was shaking. He waited a moment in silence, in mute, wondrous terror, his heart a hammer in his throat. Something moved in the darkness, only a few yards away. He could vaguely see the shape: a thick, large body that rose to an alarming height and shuffled on unseen legs. It was far too large to be a natural animal and its perfect silence–not even snapping a twig or rustling a leaf–was absolutely mind-boggling.

The thing hobbled away from them into obscurity and the men grew convinced it had gone when an awful screech exploded in the wood–that of a distressed rabbit. They heard nothing of the creature, though they could hear it make a gut-wrenching crunch as it ate the unfortunate rodent.

The morning sun was welcoming but neither man truly wanted to move. As they stood to revive themselves, eating a sparse meal and drinking from their canteens, the German contributed more information. Apparently, the German’s name was Lieber–whether it was his first or last, Daniel was unsure. He told him that, when he had left as a scout two days prior, there had been seventeen Nazi soldiers in the village and one officer. So, they HAD taken over Distant Bog, Daniel thought, and, by Lieber’s testimony, had been occupying the town for at least a week and a half. Lieber also mentioned being scared of the town’s church and kept trying to explain to Daniel that there was something under the church but Lieber had difficulty explaining it in English. Frustrated by the language gap, Lieber finally gave up and angrily started chewing a piece of cured meat, mumbling to himself.

When breakfast was finished, the men gathered their things and headed towards the first house, the one where they’d heard the scratching. Every log looked like one of the slinking quill otters and every house corner seemed to be concealing a hulking rabbit brute.

It was a slow, nerve-wracking walk.

The near house was white with wood siding and an aging roof.

They were greeted with a shock when they saw the front of the 97

Peppermint Rooster Review

house; the front door was swung wide open, smears of blood trailing inside from the front walk as if something heavy had been dragged inside. There were various tracks trampling the front garden and bites had been taken out of every vegetable, though none seemed completely eaten. None of the tracks looked familiar and both men were happy to leave them behind.

Circumstances didn’t improve as they reached the second house.

A dead cat lay half eaten, a massive, singular bite taken out of its abdomen, in the middle of the street. It had started to decompose but there were no flies on it. In fact, the men saw no animals. It was like an evil ward had fallen over the town and had driven all sensible things away.

Several houses had broken windows and Lieber pointed out one that had some leathery skin hanging in tatters from its jagged shards.

It was dripping with a honey-colored liquid that smoked where it fell on the ground.

The front of the town’s general store called ‘Les Abeilles’ or simply: ‘Bee’s’ was covered in a crimson tangle of red vines, some as thick as Daniel’s bicep. They pulsed with a life of their ow strange, demonic arteries. Daniel didn’t want to see its root system. All he could picture was some vile heart pumping beneath their feet. The origin of the vines sprouted from the opening of a sewage drain which was choked beyond capacity. The vines put off a putrid smell of rot and spoilage that made the German repeatedly spit and made Daniel hold his sleeve to his nose. They made sure to give the vines a wide berth.

Lieber stopped at one point in the center of town and pointed to his ear, then to the west side of the village. Daniel stopped too and listened.

Lieber rubbed his nose, “You hear?”

Daniel nodded, “It sounds like a heartbeat.”

But that wasn’t right. The more Daniel listened to it, the more it changed to him. It sounds like an echo, he thought, a deep, deep echo–like the sound a bat makes, but amplified, and it short, precise pulses.

Daniel shook his head at Lieber, “Where did everyone go?”

Lieber shrugged, “No. No one. No place.”

“Where were your men when you left?”

Lieber pointed up the street, “Kommunale.”

This time, Lieber led the way, Daniel keeping close behind him.

Daniel noticed for the first time that Lieber had a strange tattoo on 98

Volume 8, Spring 2020

his neck, just at his collar. He stared at it while they walked, wondering what it stood for.

They came upon a large building of import. It had a plaque with writing on the cornerstone that translated roughly to “Municipal Court of Marais Lointain.” Lieber’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked over the front steps of the building, which was little less than a battleground. There were five bodies visible on the steps and stoop alone. Some were mauled and eaten. One man was blanketed in the corpulent red vines down to his boots, a pool of dried blood running down the steps beneath his body.

The two double doors into the building were boarded shut but had obviously not held in the chaos. The wood was broken down and splintered to pieces, covered in claw marks of varying sizes, some carved into the masonry.

Lieber pointed at Daniel’s radio, “Do. Get,” Lieber shook his head, “We go. We see.”

Daniel understood: “Let’s leave and call for help. We’ve seen enough.”

Lieber followed Daniel out of the village towards an outlying farm on the north side with a large, red barn. The barn was absent livestock, though it was suspiciously covered in chicken feathers and specks of blood and Lieber kicked a severed beak with his foot when they entered. The men climbed a wooden ladder into a sunny loft full of straw bales and Daniel set up his radio equipment on the rickety roof. A sliding door led from the loft to the outer rooftop and provided a good view of the town below. Lieber removed the ladder and pulled it up with them into the loft–it made them both feel better.

Daniel reached out with the radio, adjusting the channel until it no longer cracked with static. There was definitely interference. Daniel considered that it might be caused by the strange pulse. They couldn’t hear it up on the roof, but it reminded him suspiciously of a frequency jammer in its nature. It could be German technology, something Allied forces didn’t yet know of, but Lieber seemed to think it was just as strange and there was nothing that could be done about it from their position.

“Foxtrot, alpha, foxtrot, lima, over,” Daniel used the phonetic alphabet, leery of who might be listening.

He repeated the call. Anyone belonging to the Free French Air Force would know the call was from one of their own. Lieber joined him on the roof, picking at his dirty fingernails.

“Foxtrot, alpha, foxtrot, lima, over.”

99

Peppermint Rooster Review

Nothing but static, spitting in the strange rhythm of the pulse answered.

Suddenly the radio came to life with a fresh voice, “Foxtrot, alpha, foxtrot, lima, stop, Sierra, india, bravo, lima, echo, yankee, over.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose–it was Jack Sibley, his Sergeant. He quickly spelled out the word listening in phonetic. He wasn’t sure if any Germans were still active on the frequency.

Sibley answered, “November, Oscar, over.”

“Can you hear me Sibley? It’s Robie.”

Sibley’s midwestern accent rose over the radio, “Shit, son, you could’ve just said so. No one in town but us are still alive. Ain’t nobody around to talk proper for. What’s your location? Are you able to radio out?”

“We’re on top of a red barn on the north side of town–had to get to higher ground. The signal is jammed somehow. I’m surprised we even reached you. Where are you? Do you know what’s happening?

We’ve seen some weird shit.”

Sibley answered quickly, “I’m in a residential property on the south side. Got Clemens, Pehler and Wright with me, a few civilians, and some leftover Krauts. We’ve been laying low in a basement. Clemens has a fever and we’ve been stuck here for his sake.

You’re the first person outside this cellar I’ve heard from since yesterday. Me and Wright got here yesterday morning and everything had already happened. Ran into the Krauts around noon–three of them–and then Pehler and Clemens got here around three. They got separated from Guzzemann by a swarm of carnivorous lizards and we haven’t seen him.

“Pehler translated for us. Germans said the church has tunnels under it–not sure what they were digging for–but the Krauts say the church opened it up–say there was some sort of cult in the church– no regular denomination. Anyways, the cult kept it contained to the church cellar for a few days but when the Krauts came in, they started detaining people. They removed the cultists from the church and the tunnel was left untended and, well, stuff started coming out. The Nazis say the pulse started sometime then and everything went to shit. They lost the municipal building; it was a massacre. Heard a ruckus in the evening yesterday, some gunfire. Some lunatic rang the church bell about thirty times, then nothing.”

Daniel thought a moment about what Sibley said, “I’m with a Kraut too. He says his name is Lieber–surname, I think. We heard 100

Volume 8, Spring 2020

the gunfire and bells a couple hours before dusk too; we weren’t in town yet. Don’t know what happened, but we did see a Kraut running from some kind of otters–they ate him.”

Sibley half-chuckled, “Ah, tough luck. If only they had brats.”

Daniel glanced over to Lieber but the German had busied himself with mending a button on his pants pocket and didn’t seem to understand the joke.

“You said Clemens has a fever?”

Sibley made a negative grunt, “Yeah, he was walking with Pehler and tripped on a step, grazed one of those red vines. He started sweating when he got here and now he’s burnin’ up. We need to contact command. Maybe the bell tower would be tall enough to reach out.

There’s nothing higher. The church sits on a hill–can you see it?”

Daniel surveyed the area and espied the skinny, white tower of the church, “Yeah, I see it. Do you really think its wise? Going there? Didn’t you say that’s where it all started? What do you think they could be? Some cave species?”

“Who knows?” Sibley scoffed, “All of ‘em are dangerous though, and there’s all kinds. Some fly. Some swim. Big. Small. All the regular animals have flown the nest–pardon the pun. Haven’t seen a bird since we got close to town and the…”

Sibley trailed off, “Ah, shit!”

Daniel tensed, “What’s wrong?”

“Ah! God! Clemens is getting’ worse. They’re in his skin! Shit.”

Lieber’s attention was grabbed by the tone of Sibley’s voice and he rose an eyebrow.

Sibley continued, “Don’t touch the damned vines! They’re contagious! Clemens had a cut and he’s got tendrils growing out of it out of his damned belly! I’ve never seen anything like it; it’s some sort of parasite. Listen: you and your Kraut collect what supplies you can near you–anything to help boost that signal–and you hole yourselves into that barn good and tight! Stay there until we can get a plan together–may have to recruit the enemy if we must but now it’s just survival.

Need to try and figure out how to get these civies outta here if we can.

Contact us if you need to. We’ll be listening.”

“Yes sir. I’ll try to let Lieber know but he doesn’t speak much English.”

Daniel noticed Lieber move and watched as the German flipped him the finger. Lieber seemed to understand some of that.

“No? Well tell him to get the brine outta his ears! Sibley, over and out!”

101

Peppermint Rooster Review

“Robie, over and out.”

Daniel put away his radio equipment and stuffed it into his pack.

For the next two hours, the two men worked together to stack the straw as efficiently as possible, blocking the open side of the loft and the hayloft doors. When they were content, at least enough as one could be when knowing stacks of straw are all that lies between one and other-dimensional monsters, they dropped the loft ladder down and headed for the farmhouse.

Unlike the homes within the village, the farmhouse looked untouched. It was at least a mile from the next closest residence, all alone on the hillside. It was evening now and Distant Bog was lit with an ethereal orange light that cast bizarrely in an arcing halo over the horizon. There was no discernible fog, but everything appeared hazy–it reminded Daniel of the radio static.

Daniel knocked on the front door. When no one answered, he tried the doorknob. It was locked. Lieber rolled his eyes and pushed Daniel out of his way. He planted his foot on the stoop and kicked outwards. The lock broke, splintering the doorframe. The door flew open and Lieber walked in, rifle at the ready.

“How very Nazi of you,” Daniel jeered.

Lieber smiled. Daniel was starting to wonder if Lieber understood more than he let on. Maybe it was all an act so he didn’t have to converse with the enemy, or maybe he simply heard the mocking tone of Daniel’s voice. It was a shame he was a Nazi– Daniel was starting to like the guy.

The house was lit with sunlight. It consisted of two bedrooms, a kitchen-living space, and a bathroom. Steps led from the kitchen to a cellar; there seemed to be lots of cellars in Distant Bog. The men searched the house, grabbing food and various items. Lieber whistled at Daniel to get his attention. Daniel saw him hold up a shotgun and a box of shells–a lucky find. Daniel gave him a thumbs up and Lieber made a smooching sound at him. Daniel flipped him off.

Daniel whistled at Lieber next and when the German looked, Daniel revealed his find: a flashlight. Also lucky. Lieber gave him a thumbs up–such camaraderie. They used the flashlight to go into the cellar. Lieber wielded the shotgun behind him.

“Could you not point that thing at my back?”

Lieber chortled, “Nein.”

Daniel nearly jumped from his skin when he reached the bottom step. The beam roved over and fell on an upright body; they had found the farmer hanging from his own ceiling from a pipe. He 102

Volume 8, Spring 2020

must’ve thought there was no way he was escaping Marais Lointain alive. The cellar was full of preserves and he and Lieber picked through them, stowing what would still fit in Daniel’s pack. Lieber only had a small satchel that buckled at his hip and wasn’t nearly so spacious.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Daniel exclaimed, Daniel ran across the room to a desk–it was covered in HAM radio equipment. He wondered if the farmer had been the FAFL’s contact. Though unpowered, there were definitely parts of it he could use and he was sure they could get something rigged together that would boost the signal from the tower. Even Lieber could not deny it was the best find yet. But Lieber was thinking the same thing as Daniel. The German held up one of the dead wires and shook his head. They had to find a source of power.

Daniel grabbed a discarded flour sack from the kitchen and picked apart the radio, shoving it into the sack. He and Lieber found an old oil lamp and left the house, returning to the loft to settle for the night. They were sure to pull the ladder up again and blocked its space with more straw. They lit the oil lamp and, while Daniel tinkered with the mess of wires and boxes, Lieber dug a notebook out of his satchel. He watched the German curiously as he pulled out a piece of lead and started sketching. They continued for some time before Lieber poked Daniel on the ankle.

He held up his sketchpad and snorted, “You.” Daniel scowled. It was, indeed, a skilled portrait of Daniel, sitting cross-legged on the loft floor. A wire was running from the radio, finished in the drawing, all the way to Daniel’s ass. Little marks representing lightning bolts were scattered here and there on the page and Daniel’s likeness’ hair was standing on end. Daniel laughed and pushed the German’s hand away. Lieber ignored him and flipped the page. Apparently, he was going to start a new masterpiece.

They worked without conversation, Daniel whispering curses as he finagled with the equipment, the German smiling, lost in his drawings, leaning against a straw bale. Daniel wondered if the Nazi was as bad as the others–if he’d done the horrible things they’d been hearing about on the other side. He hoped he hadn’t. And what would be done with the separated Nazis–with Lieber–when all was said and done? Maybe none of them would survive; that was a possibility. Maybe they’d be pardoned or given a reprieve for assisting. Maybe the United Nations would hang them all. Sitting there, sharing space with Lieber, he could only see the child in them both. They were the same in that loft, no mat103

Peppermint Rooster Review

ter what they had done before coming there.

Daniel checked his watch and around ten they tired and decided to sleep. Daniel decided not to go back onto the roof to check in with Sibley. He could only hope they lasted ‘til morning. He spared his radio’s battery and blew out the lamp. They heard peculiar noises that grew in number and variety throughout the night but neither man asked any questions, as if their words might draw in the makers of the sounds.

The men awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of something breathing heavily. The cloud-cover had cleared and the barn below was lit with moonlight. It was barely enough to see through the gloam but the men could see something through the cracks in the floor. A large, long shape smelled at the chicken feathers below them. It reminded Daniel of a panther, though much larger and sporting two jagged tails with spear-like attachments at the ends. He thought it slightly beautifulthough in a terrifying, deadly sort-of way. It inhaled deep at the ground where the ladder had been placed and looked up at the empty space.

Daniel didn’t have to see Lieber to know he was also holding his breath.

Unknowing that its quarry was staring directly at it from above, the panther circled the barn several times until, disinterested at last, it stalked out and back into the night. Daniel was exhausted of being afraid. He slept like the dead.

Lieber kicked Daniel’s boot to wake him. It was already late morning. The German had reopened the loft door and went to sit in the sun while Daniel collected his things. Lieber had already done so. After Daniel was also ready, he caught himself staring at Lieber’s tattoo. The German sighed and put two fingers on the mark before turning to Daniel.

“Science,” he said through a thick accent.

Daniel bowed his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Lieber shrugged, “Ok. Old.” Daniel took that all to mean that Lieber was somehow affiliated with the Nazi science program–a dark and cruel field of which he wished to know no more. But Lieber had said ‘old’. He took that to mean Lieber had been in the science division a long time ago–maybe he was still. It made Daniel trust him slightly less and reminded him again that, despite their likenesses, Lieber was still a Nazi.

Daniel went back on the roof and set up the radio equipment. He 104

Volume 8, Spring 2020

reached out to Sibley who answered promptly. Clemens had died in the night–‘in pain and terror’ Sibley had put it. The vines had grown throughout his abdomen and, according to Pehler, their medic, he was ‘so full of the things they fused him to the floor through his back’. Daniel tried to stress to Lieber: Do not touch the vines. He hoped it got through the language barrier. It sounded the worst way to die yet.

Sibley and Pehler had stayed up most of the night coming up with a plan to get the bell tower up and operational; they only needed a few minutes of functionality to reach command, then they could book it out of bog-town like there was no tomorrow. Daniel told Sibley about the radio equipment he’d found and Sibley agreed they needed a power source. Pehler suggested they somehow rig a car battery. The Germans with them said they had a jeep parked behind the municipal building that might work. The plan was to retrieve the battery, find a safe place to piece it together, then get to the bell tower whose entrance, one of the civilians knew, was through a door to the right in the church’s sanctuary.

Daniel and Lieber left the barn at nine O’clock. Lieber stuck his foot in one of the panther’s footprints and blew air out of his mouth, shaking his head. The foot was almost twice the length of his boot.

They left the farm towards the municipal building and were relieved to see Sibley, Pehler, Wright and the others had already arrived. Sibley led them to the back of the building where the Germans were busy removing the battery.

Sibley tapped his fingers on his rifle. “You see anything on the way here?”

“Nothing. It’s like most of them are nocturnal or something. I don’t know where they go during the day.”

Sibley clicked his mouth, “Probably back home.”

Daniel grimaced. Home was back at the church.

After getting the battery, the group found a closed garage on the west side of town that seemed acceptably defensible. Wright and one of the Germans were to stay and defend the civilians while Sibley, Pehler, Daniel, Lieber and the other two Germans, Jonas and Albrecht, were to continue to the bell tower.

They gathered their munitions and Daniel finished the radio.

After testing it to make sure it worked, they left for the tower. The church loomed before them at the end of the street. It imposed upon them all a sense of dread. Daniel’s imagination ran rampant thinking of all the tunnels beneath the building, the swallowing darkness, the slithering, many-fanged beasts below their feet.

The doors of the church were open, welcoming them inside. Red 105

Peppermint Rooster Review

vines covered the building, cracking and popping it apart at every seam. They hung like pulled curtains over the doorway, threatening to fall and block the unaware inside. The church gave off an attractive aura and Daniel was reminded of the sweet sap inside a pitcher plant that lures in ant after ant to digest in its bowels. Come inside and pray.

It was cold inside the sanctuary and every hair stood at end on Daniel’s body as he walked inside. The sanctuary was painted white with dark wood floors. Pews were shoved aside in all directions, Bibles and pamphlets spread over the room haphazardly. There was blood: sprays and specks and puddles–but no bodies. No, Daniel thought, there’s at least half of one behind that pew. One of the civilians, a man named Christopher, had given them the basic layout of the church. The steps leading to the basement were behind a wall– behind the pulpit to the left.

The men went right. Daniel, Sibley, and Lieber climbed the wood steps of the bell tower. The top was open-air with a roof, kind of like a gazebo, shaped in an octagon. The bell hung from its ceiling and ropes trailed from it to the ground floor through a small hole.

Daniel wasted no time setting up the radio equipment. He allowed Sibley to speak. He wasn’t quite prepared what to say.

It didn’t take long for command to answer, though the frequency was spotty. The pulse was stronger at the church, louder, all of it emanating from the basement steps in some hollow place beneath them. It took Sibley multiple tries to get his message across, but he finally did. Command had just started giving them instructions for evacuation when the sound of one of the Germans below–Daniel thought maybe Jonas–rose in alarm.

Pehler yelled up to them, “They’re coming! Oh, God, they’re coming!”

His words began to mingle with the sounds of the damned: screeching, roaring, chittering noises. Gunfire boomed through the building and up to the tower. Daniel and Lieber ran down and ran into Pehler trying to come up–he was covered in what looked like leeches. Daniel tripped backwards on the steps and Pehler ran back down, one of the parasites digging into his eye. Lieber pulled Daniel up and the two of them had just reached the doorway at the bottom of the steps when Albrecht fell to his hands and knees. The otters, far more frightening up close than they were from across the valley, fell upon him and started burrowing their sharp noses into his back.

Jonas sprayed them with bullets, hitting Albrecht as well, though he 106

Volume 8, Spring 2020

had no choice, for the supine creatures came for him just as quickly.

Pehler lay screaming on a pew, clawing at his face, covered in white blisters. Lieber blew one of the otters in half with the farmer’s shotgun, cursing the sadistic monsters to return to hell.

A huge boom reverberated through the sanctuary and Sibley fell down the steps from the impact.

Sibley stood back up, “They set up a rendezvous–a lake west of the church! ETA twenty minutes!”

“We’ll never make it!” Daniel cried, blasting another clip at a wolf-like monstrosity that had cornered Jonas. The wolf fell back, pulling back twisted lips to reveal pink teeth and red gums. Jonas ran for the door, but the wolf grabbed him and began pulling him towards the center of the room. Another huge boom rocked the church and the far wall cracked. The wood floor buckled and sunk–something was coming up, something big.

Lieber killed a second otter and reloaded. Pehler was no longer moving. His body was covered in a hive of white blisters. Another hit from beneath the floor knocked the wolf over. It scrambled trying to regain a grip on Jonas whose leg was mangled, stark bone bared within ribbons of flesh. Lieber pressed himself against the wall, leading Daniel and Sibley to the front door.

“Sheisse!”

Lieber threw the shotgun. He had run out of shells. He continued pelting the horde with his FG42. A horrid scream rose up from Jonas who had been thrown on his back, the wolf gorging itself on his opened stomach. Sibley and Daniel sprayed the wolf with bullets, but it didn’t give up its prize, even as a hunk of its skull was blown away.

The remaining creatures started to run–out the windows, the doors, anywhere they could escape, pouring out of the doorway leading to the cellar steps. They knew something the men did not. The repetitive pulse was getting louder and faster. The entire sanctuary fell into a tense stillness–all but the horrible pulse and Jonas’ screams continued.

“Oh, shit!” Sibley yelled, “Run!” Daniel’s eyes widened as he realized the dying Jonas had pulled the pin on a grenade. The pin clattered to the floor and Jonas shoved the explosive into the wolfs mouth.

“Fick dich! ISS das!” Jonas screamed at the wolf.

Sibley pushed both Daniel and Lieber towards the bell tower stairwell. Red vines had fallen over the main doors. In the bowels of the pitcher plant. They had just started going up the steps when the grenade went off, the shockwave throwing them against the wall, shat107

Peppermint Rooster Review

tering the doorway. Sunlight streamed into the building through open holes. Daniel’s ears rung and for a moment he forgot where he was.

He lay at the bottom of the stairwell, looking out into the sanctuary.

The spot where Jonas had recently been fighting the wolf was an open pit, the wooden floors splintered and falling like a gaping mouth looking down into a throat.

Daniel tried to crawl, but a weight prevented his movement. Lieber lay over Daniel’s legs, a large piece of wood lodged into his right side. Sibley, the last in line, had been thrown against the sanctuary wall. A halo of blood had arced from his busted head, his eyes glazed, looking up towards the ceiling, his arms out to his sides: a man crucified. The church rumbled and rubble fell from the sanctuary ceiling.

Daniel managed to roll over. He shook Lieber and Lieber woke, hissing in pain.

“You have to get up! It’s gonna go!”

Daniel coughed as he stood and put an arm under Lieber’s shoulder. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and came away with blood. He could still hear nothing. He helped Lieber up step by step to the top of the tower.

“We have to jump!”

Daniel helped Lieber over the railing and Lieber used his waning energy to balance on the roof of the sanctuary before disappearing over the edge. Daniel followed him, falling to the ground beside Lieber. Daniel looked around him in horror. All around them were red vines, their width too far to avoid, to jump across. They had landed in a patch of earth surrounded by death. The ground shuddered and the bell tower split with a loud crack. Daniel looked at it. His hearing was starting to return. The red vines looped upwards and twisted in upon themselves; it was like they’d landed in a cage.

The sound of laughter alerted Daniel to Lieber who sat upright, looking towards the red barn. The German lit a cigarette and popped it between his lips. Blood oozed from the giant splinter in his side. Lieber produced another cigarette and gave it to Daniel.

Lieber took a drag and exhaled, “I die with American. Not so bad.”

Daniel smiled and blew out a puff of smoke, “No. Not so bad at all.”

108

Volume 8, Spring 2020

Contributors TONY BODUL is in his second semester here at LC. He plays on the men’s soccer team and plans on majoring in Business. He’s originally from St. Louis, and he loves writing and perfecting papers for English.

ASHTYN BRITT is a 22 year old paralegal and criminal justice student who enjoys writing, reading, acting as Student Government President, and spending time with her loved ones. She finds inspiration from her mother, her favorite authors, and all forms of love. Ashtyn aspires to someday live in a nice city making a decent living while working in a law firm while finding time to write on the side. Ashtyn also hopes to have a wife and children, multiple pets, and create as many piles of books as possible and a window seat to read them in.

HAYLEY DAY is a student at L&C. She is an artist, musician, and a writer. What first began as a hobby, quickly turned into a passion for writing. Her senior English teacher said she should pursue writing and she continues to do so. Now that two of her works are being published, she may in the future aim for more.

TAMMI DEVENING is currently enrolled full time and in her second semester here at Lewis and Clark. She’s taking classes to pursue her nursing degree. Tammi writes, “I will be taking the HESI exam in the fall to qualify for the nursing program.

I am a single mother of three young children. They are my life. They give me the strength to push myself past what I feel is good enough and push me to do my very best. I am also employed full time as well. Last year I became a survivor of domestic violence. I made the choice to take my life back and have been working diligently to make changes for my future.”

MARY DUPUREUR is a full-time college student with a husband and three kids.

While she isn’t studying to become a registered nurse, she is a part time bartender at a smaller, not well-known bar called the Spaulding club. At ten years old she was diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic and a few years later developed (Necrobiosis Lipoidica Diabeticorum). She has also been accepted into Phi Theta Kappa.

OLIVIA ERNST attended Roxana Senior High School and is currently a freshman at Lewis and Clark. She plans on getting an Associates of Arts for Political Science, and she intends to go to SIUE after her time at LC. Olivia writes, “I’ve had a really amazing time at LC and I’ve met so many amazing people while being here.”

NIGEL HILGERT is a student at Lewis and Clark who enjoys photography, writing, and playing pickleball. After this semester he plans on transferring the SIUE to continue his education.

KAYLA HOWLAND is a local writer and artist from Alton, Illinois. She enjoys writing eerie horror, supernatural, and sci-fi and plays more video games than she’s proud of. She hopes to finish a full-length novel soon. She lives at home with her cairn terrier, Ripley, who often sits beside her while she clacks away at her laptop late into the night.

109

Peppermint Rooster Review ALEX JOHNSON is a graphic design student at L&C and an SIUE graduate. Alex is returning to school in pursuit of a life that was dreamed of, but never thought possible. Alex is a musician, digital artist, and favors purple.

HANNAH KAHL is graduating with an English degree in May. After taking a trip to Australia, New Zealand, and Fiji, she quickly fell in love with traveling. She plans on crossing off every item on her bucket list, starting with a trip to Africa next summer. She is looking forward to a future full of love, sunshine, and travel.

SKYLAR MAUPIN is a student at L&C. SAM MOORE has written, “This is my first year at L&C. I’m majoring in Music Performance and I will work harder and have been working harder than I have ever worked to become an amazing opera singer one day. Creativity in any form is what I live for and knowing that something I have created has impacted at least one person tells me that I’m doing alright. Music is all about creating and telling a story; writing is the same.”

KRYSTIE MORRISON is a student at LC pursuing a degree in Graphic Design, a certificate in photography and a certificate in social media marketing. She also works for The Bridge as their Web Editor and Photographer. This is her second time being published for the Peppermint Rooster, but has also been featured in the 2019 student art show.

STEFANIE PRYOR graduated with honors from Lewis and Clark Community College in December of 2019 with an Associates in Arts. During her time at Lewis and Clark, her studies focused on Literature and Writing and she was a member of the Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society. She is currently attending Southern Illinois University Edwardsville where she is pursuing a Bachelor’s of Science in Geography and a minor in GIS. Stefanie lives with her husband of thirteen years in Gillespie, Illinois, with their biological son and two foster children. She continues to be passionate about literature and writes in her free time.

NICOLE SAPP is 27 years old. Originally from Las Vegas, Nevada , her family moved to Illinois in 2010. She is attending Lewis and Clark for a Medical Assisting degree.

Former Lewis and Clark student OLIVIA SCHELLINGBURGER is now a freshman at McKendree University, where she’s majoring in English Secondary Education. She enjoys reading, writing, and photography, and she is a senator for Student Government at her school.

LAUREN SHAW is a student at L&C. HOPE WAHL is a student at L&C.

110

Peppermint Rooster Review

Peppermint Rooster Review • Volume 5 • Spring 2017

112