Midnight Writers November 2022

Midnight Writers

Table of Contents

Cover: “ Cybeepunk: Killer Drone”, an illustra tion by nroC

This Page: “bees AHHH (a haiku)”, a haiku by Halimede

Page 3: Ask Aphro & Dite

• Egg baby

• Risen from the dead Verily Vérité

• November life

Page 4:

“Hello Again”, an illustration by Erebus Tree “a bee”. a poem by svnmii

Page 5: “a bee”, continued “Queen Bee”, an illustration by Yuridice “[silent chaos] the ritual”, a poem by svnmii

Page 6: “You”, a poem and illustration by Child13

Page 7: “Chapter 1: Auspicious Acquaintances”, a poem by Willow and Wisp “Faustum Noti”, an illustration by Willow and Wisp

Page 8:

“A Rose By Any Other Name”, a story by Halimede “Stormcloud,” an illustration by Hecate

Page 8:

“A Rose By Any Other Name”. continued “Up and Out”, an illustration by Erebus Tree “Order for the Starsmith”, a story by Eneas Page 9:

“a bee”, continued “Eye Bleeding”, an illustration by Hecate “zombie”. a poem by Vérité “Dawn Upon the Eyes”, an illustration by Hecate 4 poems by Charis Page 10: 4 poems continued

bees AAAAH (a haiku) by Halimede

there are so many help I am being attacked I’ve been bee’d to death

Ask Aphro & Dite

Dear Aphro, How to get rid of my stupid egg baby?? Thanks, Sociology Student (Unfortunately) Dear Sociology Student,

Are you a Sociology student at Win ston Churchill High School? Have you been personally victimized by an egg shell that you are required to carry around everywhere for a week straight for an All-Tasks assessment grade? Are you confused as to what relevance whatsoever this assignment has to the field of Sociology? Good news! You may be eligible for compensation!

Call 1-800-EGG-CRUCATING for help—

Sorry, wrong script. Anyways, I say enroll the egg shell in school. An egg requires an egg-cellent education, so you’d be doing your duty as a parent.

With love, Aphro

Dear Dite, Help! My cringe Mary Sue that I wrote in fourth grade has come to life and is haunting me! What do I do?

Sincerely, Flaming Elmo Dearest Flaming Elmo, My advice: RUN! You won’t be able to defeat her. You shouldn’t even try. You made her perfect at everything, remember? She can fight flawlessly with thirty different weapons and has approximately forty-one different magical powers—not to mention a silver tongue to go with that silver and pink “natural” hair. Everyone will love her as soon as they meet her be cause she’s just so cute and ditzy, and soon you’ll have no allies. Get out of there—while you still can.

Best of luck…

With Love, Dite

issuu.com/midnightwriters wchs.midnightwriters@gmail.com

Verily Vérité

Greetings, o enraptured audience! It is I, Vérité, here with another enlightening col umn of the month. November is the month of the month, which means I could talk about so many things that make November November—such as college applications, incomprehensible Maryland-style tem perature fluctuations, Thanksgiving break chaos, the end of the first quarter, my birth day…. Or I could talk about none of that, and focus on aesthetics instead!

November has some of the best aesthetics of the entire year. Pumpkins, the red and orange glow of falling leaves, sweater weather, warm teas and coffees, pump kins, pumpkins… it just doesn’t get much better than that. Of course October has all of these as well, but October is distinctly higher energy due to Halloween, which makes November a nice wind-down from that. One thing I am sorry to have missed this year is the Maryland Renaissance Fair—I was looking forward to it, but they had to place the dates to map out exact ly on Application Rush Season. Thanks, Maryland. Consider this my official petition for them to extend the dates of the renaissance fair through November, please and thank you.

That’s all for this month. Enjoy your autumn! Before the inescapable holiday season takes over the radios…

À la prochaîne, Vérité

Special thanks to Sra. Steele, Cupid, Vérité, and viento de levante.

a bee

by svnmii

should not be roaming around in the midst of autumn. yet here it was, tired of the norms it skipped the annual mass celebration when everyone was rejoicing in the hive CHEERS TO US!

FOR WE HAVE PREPARED WELL AND WE ARE MORE THAN READY FOR WHATEVER COMES it knew the flowers weren’t out after all they had wilted away cold air is supposed to be threatening but aren’t we all a little different?

trees are always majestic specifically yellow like the color of sunflowers you’d see last season they always talk about red oh how it wished it could witness

a rustle in the air is it time to go? perhaps but maybe it should stay a little bit longer the wind kept whistling GO HOME LITTLE ONE the temperature sighed YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO TOLERATE THIS what about leaves? they attacked the bee all in flurry and so it immediately scrambled back home will it make it? will they all forgive? the little one must hurrymore more leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves flurry like snow leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves more more leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves leaves dark light is there red i don’t

“Hello Again”, Illustration by Erebus Tree

[silent chaos] the ritual by svnmii

around the fire individuals stood tossing leaves sticks things – embracing the crackling noise one stayed upright fighting fatigue in themself when can i go home – you must stay the others patiently waited for the moment of their peak the time will come – for it shall happen and so it happened probably at 11:11 near midnight chants arising from their stomachs – was it in pig latin?

the wind whistled, maybe that old lady neighbor cackled you never knew who was watching – whatever, we’re in the forest the same one wanted to run. but there is no out – once it happens you can’t escape flames turned green and slowly it took shape walking out of its pit – stay calm you are loved was it hungry? it probably wanted to devour everything yet it remained calm, circling the group – embrace the spirit, the fire

NO. NO. NO. a circle of dancing colors formed all around – do not worry, do not worry more chanting it seems like praise gut feeling turned sour – the witching hour has begun it’s only november though they say it is time so be one with the smoke – do fires and witches even correlate?

even so it creeps snaking between legs the trees break down – chaos. Chaos. chaos.

“Queen Bee”, Illustration by Yuridice

You by Child13

You

We’re a product of me. I Raised you. You Stripped me of all my minerals and Love. You Broke my skin, and trampled my flesh. You Drilled into my already dry, cracked skin. You Dug deeper, for anything, Anything Left in my burnt out core. And I, I find it funny. Ironic. Silly. Hilarious. That you, The ones who did all this to me. Tore me down to build your empire Upon me. You created this. This home. This village. This sanctuary. And yet, You were its pillager. Remember Nature will always Overpower You.

“You”, Illustration by Child13

Auspicious Acquaintances by Willow and Wisp

willow darkness descending upon these desolate woods i lie here, bound to this realm. i’ve traversed these paths for millennia no end in sight i’ve stopped hoping for one. why should i? even the sun has stopped visiting me now all that is left is to wallow in my pitiful existence pacing the grounds of my prison i stumble upon a lustrous lake, brilliant blue hues beckoning me peering in, i see a?! a figure, humanoid in nature staring back at me with radiant eyes wisp

wading in these waters i bask in this supernatural glow swallowing my sadness reminiscing on friends from long ago the burden of remembrance i bear these horns i wear to preserve their memory life feels so empty now spending hours in my reverie across the waters i spot an auburn aura, luminous and bright the fiery glow foreign and unusual illuminating the dreary night peering into the familiar waters spotting a figure in my reflection warm eyes staring back in disbelief could this be my resurrection ?

“Faustum Noti”, Illustration by Willow and Wisp

A Rose By Any Other Name

by Halimede

They’ve been lost in the ruins of the ancient spaceship for weeks when they see it.

It’s a rusted imprint on the metallic wall, barely recognizable through the centuries of wear. But when A-08 flutters forward with a shining light, it’s thrown into sharp relief. Sweeping strokes intertwine across the wall, forming the outline of a rose in thorns. A flower long extinct.

The Lost Kingdom of Aura. Once a mighty empire stretching across half the galaxy, now reduced to dust and ruins. The rea sons for which were lost to history.

Zelli Trakdaryas steps forward, running her fingers lightly over the symbol. “I thought all of their technology disappeared centu ries ago,” she says, mostly to herself.

“The ship lacks most of the distinctive features that were said to mark Auran ships. Perhaps it was built to purposefully hide its allegiance.”

“Refugees?” Zelli tilts her head to the side. “Maybe they were fleeing as it all collapsed. Or they were hiding something. Some thing valuable.” Zelli presses her palm against the symbol, run ning her fingers through the grooves of the weathered carving, suddenly grinning wildly. “Oh-Eight, we might have hit jackpot. We might be rich, we’ll be set—”

She stops as the symbol begins to glow a bright, bloody scarlet. “What in Zilo’s name—”

And the wall begins to crumble inwards. “Oh-Eight,” she says, panic lacing through her voice, “What is this? What’s happening?”

But ‘08 has gone silent. The robot’s lights have gone completely. “Oh-Eight?” She turns her over rapidly in her hands. “Oh-Eight, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Zelli holds A-08 in a white-knuckled, trembling grip. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Her echo is the only response. The wall has crumbled to reveal a lowly-lit blue hallway, stretching further than she can see. Every surface is decorated with the same symbol—the bleeding red rose from before. How the lights are still functioning after centuries is beyond her.

She looks back at ‘08. “I know you’d say it’s stupid. But I’ve gotta go forward, buddy.”

A-08 doesn’t respond. Shaking her head, trying to dispel her jitters, Zelli begins to walk. And then, a few minutes later, stops as a deafening roar rips through the halls.

She throws a glance behind her only to freeze dead in her tracks. A giant mechanical beast is behind her, sparks shooting from the metallic jaw as it stalks back and forth. And then it locks eyes with her.

Zelli runs.

She sprints down halls and dead ends and doors that glow strange colors, pushing her speed to its limits. Behind her, she can hear the roars, almost feel the sparks jumping towards her.

“Oh-Eight,” she gasps out, “this would be a wonderful time for you to wake up.”

She feels the swipe of jagged metal claws at her leg a second too slow. Zelli throws herself to the side, slamming her shoulder into the nearest door and praying that it’ll open. It does, and she tumbles to the ground, then shoots to her feet and slams the door shut. Heart racing, she sinks to the floor. The roars begin to fade as the creature keeps moving.

“Come on, Zelli,” she hisses to herself. “Get it together. This isn’t the first time some feral monster has tried to kill you, and it definitely won’t be the last.”

There’s a flutter besides her. “I do not condone this method of encouragement.”

“Oh-Eight!” Zelli snaps her head to the side. The little robot is back online, buzzing and blinking. She laughs with an edge of hysteria. “Never do that to me again, you crazy android.”

“The A-0 line is not classified as an android but rather—”

But Zelli’s attention has been captured by something else. Hold ing up a hand, she shushes her, taking in her surroundings for the first time. “A-08,” she says quietly, “what is this place?”

“Stormcloiud”, Illustration by Hecate

The room is lit up with an eerie green glow, the source of which is a glass stasis pod in the center. Dark wires snake away from the pod like brambles. And in the pod is… a woman.

She floats, a halo of pale hair framing her youthful face. Her hands are clasped loosely, and she wears an elegant dark-colored dress. On her neck rests a necklace with a rose pendant.

Zelli moves forward, entranced. Suddenly, she’s in front of the glass, hand outstretched. Her hand presses against the glass, fog forming around it.

And then the glass retreats. The woman’s eyes snap open and she gasps, toppling down.

Zelli rushes forward to help. “Are you alright? How’d you get here? Who are you?”

There’s a long pause. The woman locks eyes with her, an eye brow raised. Whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find, and instead she proceeds to extricate herself from Zelli’s grip.

“Princess Talya of Aura,” she says, rising to her feet remarkably elegantly for someone allegedly in stasis for the past seven cen turies. “At your service.”

Her striking gaze pierces Zelli right through. “And who in the galaxy are you?”

Orders for the Starsmiths by Eneas

An echoing clang rang through the dark cavern. It was a room large enough to house titans, faintly illuminated by a blue light. A path ran down the middle of the room, the sides falling down into an abyss. It was the forge of the starsmiths. Two dark figures walked slowly down the path, appearing as small as ants compared to the behemoths of the forgers.

“I hate this place. It gives me the creeps,” one of the fig ures, a fleetmaster named Alexander, said. Being in the presence of such fantastic beings gave this effect on most of the clients.

“Be it as it may, they are the best. They are the only ones that can make what we need,” his partner, Phillip, said. They made their way down the straight path, both keeping to the center. There were precautions to prevent any loss of life from the cliff, but in this situation natural instincts usually took over. They continued to follow a faint blue line on the path forward until it sharply turned to the right. Ending at a point, the two found themselves behind one of the smiths, a stone behemoth with glowing eyes and tools big enough to house ships in each hand. It turned around, bringing its eyes to look at the two cli ents.

“Up and Out”, Illlustration by Erebus Tree

“Welcome users, what is it that you seek?” it spoke in an echoing voice that could fill the entire cavern, but the sound was only meant for their ears. Phillip stepped forward. A glow ing projection appeared around him, with many prompts and dialogues. He took a chip from his pocket and placed it at the center of the hologram directly in front of him. It floated there for a time as the dialogues around him filled with information and readings of the chip and the information contained within the chip. It rotated in the air, then moved towards the smith, and was absorbed into the titan.

Suddenly, the projection around Phillip changed, now showing an array of designs, switching focus between each one as each was processed. It was a design request for a full fleet of one thousand starships, including bigger and slower cruisers, small and quick fighters, and several flagships and control ships. Each was to be operated by an artificial intelligence, but would have hundreds of living beings in control as well. They would be optimized to the limit and each would house the power to conquer a planet.

The smith slowly rose to full height and began turning back to the forge. Overhead, a block of material lowered to be shaped into a ship. The first of one thousand. As it rose, it gave a confirmation.

“Your request has been processed. Return within 60 days to collect the completed product,” it said in the same echo ing voice.

With that final word, the path beckoned them to return to their arrival points and proceed into space. The plan previ ously conceived was now put into motion. They had 60 days to prepare for war.

zombie by Vérité

there’s a hand reaching out in the dead of the night cold and rotting and devoid of light it reaches past windows and long-shattered doors it reaches past dead ghosts and grey-tiled floors it reaches for you and it tears out your heart blood drips bright red as it rips it apart but you simply smile with a nod of your head and gaze lovingly at the echo of the dead.

4 poems by Charis

Destructive Feedback

She always just kind of follows me. Her gaze burns through my retina.

It’s not hard to recount her words, they spend the day in my head.

She says to count my calories: “You’d look real good in mom jeans.”

She asks, are you really done: “Is this how you want the world to see you?”

She pinches my skin, poking and prodding until she recoils: “How did you get like this? Everyone else is baby fresh.”

She scoffs at my hair, pulling it down until my scalp hurts: “Why are you so difficult? Just three inches from perfection.”

She scolds, as I miss my chance: “Why can’t you ever follow through, do you like being alone?”

I turn my head away, the mirror’s extra cruel today. I’m left ashamed by my unsatisfactory existence.

Broadening Horizons

Shoved out of the darkness of my loneliness by a helping hand, the only sliver of light to shine through in so many years of being alone.

Taking chances like never before, I don’t retreat when that sliver brings about more light, bathing me in the sunshine I’ve missed so dearly.

It takes time to adjust, but slowly I unfurl, blossoming under their welcoming warmth.

Everything is changing and it’s better this way, loneliness might have been familiar— and still has a small stake perforating the deepest part of my heart, but this newness is the best kind.

The kind that fills me with hope for a future I didn’t think I could have.

Gives me the chance to be a thing I’ve only dreamed of.

“Eye Bleeding”, Illustration by Hecatev

“Dawn Upon The Eyes”, Illustration by Hecate

Surreal Femininity

I want to be in a state of Victorian mourning, burying empty caskets to fill up plots and overstay my welcome in others’ ripe discomfort.

I want to be the house at the end of the street you tell tales of, scared of the ghouls that tap the windows. One two… one two, showered in an ominous mist.

I want to be so sickly sweet I fill the lyrics flooding a song stress’s cheeks. To be released to twirl through the breeze, picked apart by millions.

I want your stomach to churn in contemplation. Something off, or too much, and somehow not enough in my demonstration. You can’t turn away. I dare you to try, amuse me.

I want to haunt the walls of your comfortability, a ghost that lives on forever.

I want to be a performance, an act, an experience. Don’t look away, don’t look away.

You be the king, I’ll be the jester. See the melted gold running down my face. I do this just for you, can you feel that distant ache yet? The one you can’t place, it takes up space and yet is nothing all the same.

Meet me on the darkest nights, pay the toll, pay the price, to see the show. Let me ruin you indefinitely.

I’ll play the villain, I’ll play the clown, just let me be glorious to no unsettling end.

Let my voice be silky smooth in that practiced way. Piercing my skin with nails too long to shake; their color sporting the deep red that resides within my veins.

I want to be so visible it hurts you. Perceive me, I’m asking you to perceive me. Use the strength you’ve dedicated to ignoring me and others in the past.

I want to be so sticky and sultry I sink in my own femininity. Chill me in it and put me on display.

Pass Me By(e)

I went away again, through the distance I thought we stayed the same.

I returned to find that everything had changed.

I was under the impression we were neighbors on this page, you’ve moved on to the next chapter.

You’re moving faster, you’ve set a pace I’m unsure I can keep.

You’ve already been through so many things. I hear the late bell ringing, oh how it stings.

I didn’t think experiencing love and heartbreak and loss were in our cards yet. Have I been playing with the wrong deck?

You’ve been taking all the big steps while I’ve been stuck in the prepubescent.

We were in a house of mirrors. I’d been deceived by a hat trick, could’ve sworn I knew real magic.

Let me dream. It made it easier being so naive.

We’re out of sync, I can feel myself reaching for an afterimage.

I’m tumbling down, how do I halt my descent? Why didn’t you warn me of the missing floor?

Give me a hand, pull me out of the quicksand. I’m in a panic, going manic.

Don’t pass me on your way to be a sun, I’m vitamin deficient.

I want to center someone’s universe, they’ll have to do me first. I’m a novice at astronomy but a quick study.

Take me with you.

Take me with you.

I’m begging you… take me with you.