Lit by Design 2023

THE LIT TEAM

Xin Ping Chen / Nain Chiriboga / Isaac Gomez / Lexy Yanos

With additional help from Janylis Difo, Sherlynn Flores, Ben Lewis, Shazia Rahman, Gia Shah, Rue Sookoo

Cover art by Levi Hogan

This page: “The Third Eye High” by Athena Phillip

The Sandbox BENJAMIN LEWIS

Late Shift AVIANNA HELMSLEY

Was It Freedom?

HEAVEN LUCIANO

It tasted like metal. And for the first time I struggle to find the surface of the water. Arms outreached but helpless as they feel like a boulder pushing me deeper and deeper into the water. Again! I struggled to even open an eye that once exposed me for getting high. And as I feel the gaze of another, I wonder “was I betrayed by my lover?”

With my one good eye left, I see the window cracked but I knew it was he who thought I was trapped. The freedom they must’ve felt but only if I was awake and truly with help… Again and again a boulder on top of another Heavier and heavier as each one smacks against the water until I’ve reached the bottom completely and in undeniable horror

New York, A Poem

ANDY CONTRERAS

New York, Upper East Side, 3am.

I leave to use the bathroom, Something was off, I felt terrible My drink looked spiked but I didn't care I wasn't careful And it probably just cost my life

Lorenzo Castillo has been missing for 2 days.

Ding! NewYorkGossip just posted!

Another new account just popped on Instagram, My brother just went missing and people are already making Claims that my brother was kidnapped He probably just ran away again.. Right..?

NewYorkGossip would like to direct message you.

I know about your brother I might know some things on where he is. Is she serious? I’ve gotten fifty messages from the same gossip Accounts just talking about my brother what makes her differe— I was at the party that night.

Okay, what do you know?

I start to hear my brother

In my mind I hear him, I'm just grieving my Therapist says, I don't think I am. I think he's trying to contact me.

The Voices

My brother tells me what happened that night

Since we're apart it isn't easy to hear him. He doesn't know Who did this to him? I'm stuck somewhere, This man comes to feed me everyday but that's all. My ear rings and I can no longer hear him.

(Instagram) AngelicaCastillo would like to send a message.

So what do you know?

Not much that night I was drinking as well, I saw him drink a fizzy drink

Mostly likely spiked, here's the party address.

I'm afraid to investigate alone.

I finally build up the courage to text Cassie, we haven’t spoken since my brother went missing and since I covered up my brother’s cheating for him

I'm afraid she’s really upset or angry about it and has shut herself out from the world. So I invited her to come with me.

The Warehouse.

Cass, is this the right address?

Yeah, it's correct Angel.. We enter the warehouse looking around, I see a trail of blood and my ears start to ring as I get closer I pass out.

New York, A Poem by

Waking up.

Andy Contreras (continued)

I wake up in a chair next to my family's heir. I can't believe my eyes, my brother, lying dead next to me. My best friend sits in front of me, watching me I hope you know I made 50 new email accounts so I can make all those fake gossip accounts

Cassie says in a serious tone. Do you remember how we met?

Memory Lane.

I remember Pre-K at our prestigious private school When I met you, you were just some rich girl, I made you. You took all of that for granted and used all my ideas for your instagram account

When we got to high school I was always “Angelica's Pet” You always just wanted to hang out with your boyfriend, and once I got with your brother

Oh boy did you throw a fit on how I’m a bad person When he cheated on me you never even asked how I felt! It was always him. My screams were muffled into a little bloody rag. And now he's dead and Nobody’s ever gonna suspect it was me. Thanks to you making me look like the cheater.

Angelica Castillo has been missing for 2 days. Last scene at a local warehouse in Upper East, New York.

Illusions ANONYMOUS

The Bronx, Catalyst of My Identity

ISAAC GOMEZ

Change is part of life and you can find an important person in your life in the most unexpected places. You just have to give it a chance.

Moving to the Bronx in 2015 was a big change for me. My mom was dating a guy named Gabriel whom we had to move in with after barely knowing him. My mom at the time had many issues with her mother, my grandma, trying to take over her every life decision. My grandma wasn't helping my mom financially and because mom felt suffocated in her house we had to make a bumpy move from Brooklyn to the Bronx.

Once we finally had all our belongings in our new home and my brother and I got registered at the nearest elementary school, I started to feel more frustrated with this sudden change. I wasn't necessarily upset about moving but the why was always a problem for me. I kept thinking, I’m comfortable with my life, so why do we have to move? My life only involved my family in Brooklyn and getting picked up on weekends when my dad could take us in. Not only was I disturbed from the somewhat consistent parts of my life on my left, but on my right my dad would whisper reasons to focus my anger on my mom and her boyfriend. After all, dad didn't like the idea of his children living with the new guy.

Throughout the year of 2015 I was starting to settle in my new home because of the two most important people in my life today. I got to know my neighbor, who everyone called Nana, and got close to my second grade teacher, Mrs. Gallo. I don’t remember most of my memories with Mrs. Gallo except for the feeling of being understood and the warmth of

her patience. I wasn’t a saint as a kid so most of my parent-teacher conferences ended with teachers bringing up how disruptive I’d been in class. Mrs. Gallo was so completely different that I couldn’t believe teachers like her even existed. Instead of scolding me or isolating me from the class like the other teachers, Mrs. Gallo spoke to me and tried to understand why I would act out and that was all I needed. I needed someone to listen to me.

I know Nana helped me a lot because on the second to last day of fifth grade a classmate of mine was picking on me, but I ended up fighting her and she didn’t pick on anyone else after that. It’s not that I believe fighting is the way to resolve your problems, but as Nana always said, “If someone hits you, you hit them ten times harder.” They made a big impact in my life from Nana teaching me to stand up for myself to Mrs. Gallo becoming my role model because of how kind and understanding she was towards me. As a result of meeting these important people to me, my memories with them were pivotal moments for me to move into maturity.

A Korean Xmas SANDY JIANG

In the Abyss

AYAH FAHME

I can breath

I can see

I am free

I’m in the abyss

In the abyss is where happiness finds me

I let it come in the most unusual of ways

I let it roar out to me like thunder

It’ll reveal itself to me when it’s ready

When it arrives it pours into me

I enjoy every minute of it

Every hour

Every second

I do not wait for it return

I sit back in hopes it’ll return once again

I do not try to force it

I do not try to control it

I simply let it go and come as it pleases

I do not cry over it’s demise

I do not ponder over the loss

It just simply disappears

There’s no need to be upset there’s no need to cry

It’ll find me again in no time

And how sweet it’ll be when it finds me

Washing over me like the summer sea

As calm as can be

In this moment

Me and the abyss are one

It's like the sea and land meeting once again

Finding each other after a long time

I did not wait for your return my friend

But oh how happy you have made me yet again

The scent

The feeling

The longing have all returned

And in the abyss I find unity

In the abyss I find myself needing nothing,wanting nothing

In the abyss I just am and that is enough

All the fear, all the wanting is gone and there’s nothing left but silence

The silence that encloses every part that talks of worry or hate or doubt or fear

And in that is the abyss I speak so fondly of

When it leaves it disappears

Then violently like the winter sea taking a ship into a storm

Chaos is thrust upon me

A whirlwind of everything happening at once

No escape, no help, no surrender

As if I’m alone on an island with no land insight

Being attacked from all sides

No weapons, no shelter, no food nothing

Only complete destruction

With nowhere to go and no one to turn to

I’ve found that I didn’t have absolutely nothing

I had my courage, my bravery, my faith

I had myself

That was the only way I survived

Being outside of the abyss

I had my soul and that was something they couldn’t take away

The abyss and being outside of the abyss was the same

It was the abyss only changing form

I’ve found that the abyss was trying to teach me lessons

Lessons about about myself as well as others around me

It was showing me what it’s like to be alive

To truly live

Every time it went away

It wanted me to do everything in my power to try to bring it back

To not ignore all the chaos

But to face it

Phase through it

And that’s when the abyss appeared to me

That’s what it was about all along

It was about going through the hard things in life

And finding the peace and love in life

It was only after you go through hardships

That you can then find peace

That’s what the abyss was trying to teach me

The abyss isn’t something that comes to you

On a whim when it feels like it

The abyss is something that anyone can feel

Anytime, any place they choose

It’s something you have to choose

You have to choose to find it

For you to be able to choose the abyss

You have to trust yourself

In your power and strength to endure the hardships

And then you have to choose to find peace

Enduring it isn’t the end of it

The truth is it never ends

And no one comes to save you

You save yourself

The abyss is the peace you feel

After you have gone through pain

Fought it

Killed it

And choose to be at peace With yourself With the world

And to bring peace to others.

Broken Skull AVIANNA HELMSLEY

A Poem About New Design High

ANA CRISTINA CUEVAS RUIZ

The art of collaboration

Minds and voices bouncing across ideas

Our souls dancing across the wind

Our life walking on the top looking at the edge of a bridge

Making memories as we walk by

Up the stairs down the halls

Friendly familiar faces

Full of possibilities and anything you want to create

Art flowing everywhere

We are wild and free and brave and as passionate as we can be

Going with the flow

Hearing the music as it goes

Dancing and singing and enjoying the love

Everyone showing warmth a feeling and seeing the radiance

Looking at our past facing our present looking towards the future

Everything is vibrant and full of life

Smiles and laughter

Individual and unique

We are as true as we can be

Be who you are at New Design High

On the Red Carpet

SHAYLA HEARST RODRIGUEZ

Emotion ISABEL AQUINO

how the moon moves the ocean you move me with emotion your voice is soft and so unique no one can even critique you bring light to my day and scare the darkness away i may stutter when i speak but i’ll always have your love to keep

My Journal LYLAH DE JESUS

Panda Food KELLY SHI

An Embedded Genesis

MELANNY ABREU

At dawn, my covets were to transpire charm into the stabile objects my uttering were devoted to. The absence of their return was malicious because their demeanor was pure solace. In times of friendliness, I would explore the softness of the rosy hug, encountered at the conjunction of impoverishment of my senses, solely neglecting my sight.

Strings of my core were thronged with splinters that embodied the deficiency of my guardians’ warmth. At the prolonged summertime, with the vacation of winter, my blame and burden demanded to be sheltered in account for my indifference. My residence suffered the glacial sunlight and impediments of cheeriness.

Ghosts were the echoes of the excuse that was forgetfulness. At once, I sympathize with their sentiments because it proclaims for the cold bearings I met, that arctic summer. At once, I hold those sweet snowflakes that reside in the vessels of the numerous hearts generated, simply to sustain mere compassion, gifted by my sole guardianship.

If Only It Knocked You Out XIN PING CHEN

“Ow! Fuck off!” I screamed at the guy named Alston who’s been attacking my head with his pathetic hands.

“Why can’t you go read a book? Is it so hard to be a normal student?” I continued as I ducked the next attack.

Unfortunately for me, I dealt with Alston hitting my head like a baseball on those T-ball stands… without the bat, of course. Alston bullied me for the majority of my 8th grade. Always wore a hoodie during the cold days and a t-shirt during the warmer summer days, with spiky hair like a longer version of a buzz cut, and he always had glasses on. He also wore a mask at the time to prevent COVID-19 from catching him. If we ever decided to talk to each other, it’s either me giving him the threats as all middle school kids say now! Or he started the most random conversation about eating air…? Otherwise it would be him asking me if I wanted to be dragged off the table, choked, or endure other methods of physical contact from him.

“Xinny Ping Ping! Do you want other people to smell your ass on the table?”

“What? No…? Alston, what the fuck are you going to-”

“Then let me help you get off!”

“You fucking bitch!” I blurted as Alston dragged me to the floor. Most of us 8th graders were wearing a mask until March of 2022 when it wasn’t a requirement. A couple of people in the class continued wearing it because of two reasons: protection from COVID-19 and they liked how the mask covered part of their face. Let’s say, both Alston and I kept our masks on and never saw each others’ faces until a gloomy lunch day. The scent of poorly made cheese sticks and burnt burgers almost made me gag, school food was never for me. So! I always carried a lunchbox with food either made or bought. That day, I remember eating rice noodles with shrimps inside, it was the food I craved for every week.

The saltiness of the shrimp wasn’t strong enough, which is why I dumped a good amount of soy sauce on it. We were all forced to eat something during lunch in the auditorium because of the principal’s order and we took our masks off and ate. That was the moment I saw Alston’s face in-person for the first time. Wait–he has a baby face?! This booknerd looked like a damn 3-year-old baby?

“What are you looking at?” Alston asked.

“Who else? Am I looking at anyone else? Bitch, I never saw your face and that ugly shit is not what I expected,” I replied.

“Look at you! I have never seen your face since 6th grade.”

Then we continued arguing about what our faces looked like until the end of lunch.

Alston typically bullied me by hitting me on the head, but at times he would drag me on the floor, choke me for entertainment, and pull my hair. I wasn’t the only target in the class either. Most of the introverted girls in the class had to deal with his stupidity, which means 47 percent of the class were bothered. Words were all we could use, none of us knew how to fight or even defend ourselves without the support of a weapon, until a boring May school day when I wasn’t in the mood to do anything but run out of school. We were told to leave the social studies classroom as the period ended, the next class was math. I held my binder and notebooks in my left arm and a pencil case in my right. The classes were all on the fifth floor, and conveniently enough, the math class is next to the social studies classroom! Less movement, but more mental preparation for the hell other people call math.

As we were walking out of the class, the math teacher let his previous class out, made us form 2 single-file-lines, and he rushed off to use the restroom. People talked to each other quietly, sitting against the beige-yellow walls, staring into the abyss. The hallways were loud from the footsteps of middle school students and chitter-chatter from many of us kids. Two minutes later, the hallway became a library, every other human-being in that middle school was dragged into a teacher’s classroom.

If Only It Knocked You Out (continued)

However, Alston couldn’t control his hands and did what he had always done for the past few months. My opaque pencil case with mechanical pencils, an eraser pen, highlighters, lead, and multiple pens from a Japanese retail company, urged me to do something I could only imagine. My intrusive thoughts won! I twisted my body at an 180-degree-angle and swung my pencil case at the person I hated most in that traumatizing middle school. I directed the last-minute weapon at the bully’s head.

“Kill yourself!” I shouted.

A lovely rattle swept through the quiet and empty extensive hallway. My “bat” impacted the left side of Alston’s skull, but I could tell I injured his ear because I saw him rubbing his hand against it.

“Welp,” he replied with a surprised tone.

He was stunned. Everyone in the class was shocked as well, staring at me, wondering what just happened. No adults were watching us. I don’t think any camera caught the incident. Not like those security guards would barge in to break up situations. This school forces all of us to work together and not to harass others like every other school. But this close-minded principal trusts all of us a little too much, showing how she doesn’t care about others’ mental and physical health enough.

Amazingly enough, I didn’t get in trouble for attacking someone out of self-defense! If only I knocked him out, then I would get in trouble. Only those in the class saw what happened, but who knows if it spread like a wildfire? Maybe it became a rumor across different friend groups. Needless to say, I’ve realized the amount of anger built up from Alston was enough to fight back. Ignoring the problem itself won’t always fix everything, rather, it would come back some time in the future. So you have to gain enough courage–or–anger to defeat any issues that may have been collected from the past.

Life Is Preventable… BENJAMIN LEWIS

Untitled AVIANNA HELMSLEY

The Meaning of Life

JANYLIS DIFO

I’ve always known that I was different and not in an abnormal way but in a sense that I never could grasp onto the meaning of this life. I always knew I was different because each day I was a new person. Today I was curious, today I couldn’t understand the reality of anything at all. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know why the color of the sky is blue and not green or why everyone is put through something in life that will make them want to die.

On Monday I was angry, I was angry at the person I am now and more so truthfully I was angry that I actually haven’t changed at all even when I said I was going to. I was angry because I miss the person I lost within all the trauma. Inside I’m still that girl that was too much but talked too little. I still am that girl that acted like I didn't burn myself the night before when I said I’d stop two years ago. I still do things to please people like make sure I have all A’s so that one teacher will be proud and I can feel good enough for 2 seconds but I stopped showing it, I started pretending like I care about people’s boring materialistic conversations or that I care about others’ judgment when deep down I know they’re judging because they judge themselves in the mirror. Everyone around me will leave at some point and the blood on my wrists that I painted myself will not matter anymore. I've always known I was different because there would be times where I would blank out into thin air and end up thinking of a white wall trying to comprehend how the world works while everyone else goes with it. and although I’ll never be able to find out what’s true or false, I will say that right now I am inspired. I am inspired to write about my thoughts and realize something new on the way like I did 2 seconds ago and that tomorrow I’ll be sad, I’ll walk around the halls, say hi to people I'll never see again and force myself to act like everything’s okay.

Beef Jerky, A Play

BRISEIS SEDA

Characters

Neva

Amethyst Investigator

Time: One afternoon

Place: The Lower East Side

Scene 1: A quiet sidewalk

(AMETHYST and NEVA walk down the sidewalk, talking to each other. AMETHYST is smoking a cigar.)

AMETHYST: So how are you going to get away this time?

NEVA: I’ll just go home, bathe, and sleep.

AMETHYST: You sure about that? You have to go to church today and seem way too drunk to even know where home is. You should have listened to me when I said you’d gone past the limit.

NEVA: Yea, whatever. I always find a way.

AMETHYST: No you don't, you fail every time. (Silence)

You know what? I’m just gonna take you to the first Mass. Then we could decide what to do next. Neva, can I have your phone?

NEVA: What for?

AMETHYST: So I could let her know we’re going to church.

NEVA: Oh, ok.

(They walk in silence and stop in front of a church)

AMETHYST: Ok, we’re here, so please. I know you're drunk but be on your best behavior, ok?

NEVA: Of course.

(AMETHYST puts out her cigar. They walk into the church. )

Scene 2: A few moments later inside the church

(NEVA and AMETHYST sit on one of the back pews. Everything goes fine. AMETHYST keeps peering towards NEVA, who decides to lay down and stare at the ceiling. AMETHYST is quiet. Then suddenly NEVA gets up.)

AMETHYST: Where do you think you're going?

NEVA: Why do you need to know?

AMETHYST: Because I don’t want to be left alone.

NEVA: Fine. I’m going to the bathroom. If you want to follow, too, that’s your problem.

(They walk into the bathroom)

AMETHYST: Girl, you had me worried for a sec. You took way too long in there. (NEVA doesn’t respond and proceeds to leave). Neva! (NEVA sits in a dark hallway away from everything.) Neva, what is the meaning of all this?

(NEVA doesn’t respond so AMETHYST sits beside her and notices that she’s crying.)

AMETHYST: Neva! What’s the matter? Come on you've got me…

Beef Jerky (continued)

NEVA: They’ll put me in, Amethyst. They’re going to put me in.

AMETHYST: In where?

NEVA: In boot camp.

AMETHYST: Neva! You knew this was your last chance. Why would you want to get drunk again?

NEVA: Idk. I-I couldn’t help it. I just needed to feel like I could breath for once.

AMETHYST: Neva…

NEVA: Every time they look at me, it’s like I’m walking on ice.

AMETHYST: Neva…

NEVA: I can’t, I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.

AMETHYST: Neva, stop! I told you we could’ve had a normal night out, but you wanted to get drunk and party. Again. I’m sure you’ll be fine after the punishment. I’ll make sure you are.

NEVA: No. I should have left you the moment I felt those feelings.

AMETHYST: Ok now I’m confused, first you’re talking about your drinking problem and now you’re talking about what’s between us? Neva. You should know you only feel that way because that’s what your parents put on you. I already told you they’re wrong and to stop drinking and partying like it’s gonna make everything better for you. You’re like this because you’re drunk.

NEVA: Now my parents are going to find out the monster that I truly am.

AMETHYST: Ok that’s it. We’re going.

NEVA: No!

(NEVA struggles with AMETHYST and steals her lighter from her pocket, setting AMETHYST’s sweater on fire where she had her hand grabbing NEVA’s arm. AMETHYST screams and throws the sweater on the floor. The fire spreads in the church.)

AMETHYST: What the hell was that? Why did you do that?

(NEVA just stands still. AMETHYST tries to put out the fire but it’s no use and the fire spreads; she grabs NEVA’s arm and drags her out of the church while screaming to everyone that there’s a fire near the bathroom.)

SCENE 3: A police station, awhile later

(AMETHYST sits in an interrogation room facing a camera. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.)

AMETHYST: And that’s how the church caught on fire.

(The INVESTIGATOR holds the camera up to his face but the shadow of AMETHYST’s head remains on the side.)

INVESTIGATOR: So you’re saying that it was Neva who started it by attempting to burn you.

AMETHYST: Yes.

INVESTIGATOR: Thank you, but please take note that if this isn’t the truth it’ll lead to consequences I think we both don’t want.

(Back to AMETHYST’s face.)

AMETHYST: Oh. Don’t worry. I’ve never been more sure. Ever.

Who Are You? KELLY SHI

A Mirror

ATHENA PHILLIP

You don’t see one’s thoughts

Why they are who they are

How they go home, unmask, and cry all night

How their parents still hit them

How they self harm to cope

Take drugs to feel high through the lows

How they want to die so bad

You only see the person they want you to see

The persona with no flaws

The one, they try so hard to keep up with

But you see how they are literally dying on the inside

And it’s not the way they talk, dress, walk

It’s that look in their eye

Like they are screaming for help so quietly

Somehow I see through the mirror

I see you.

Untitled BRISEIS SEDA

The Macabre Wolf and the Red Hood

EMILIE PRIETO

“Children are little pests, they run around and cause havoc. They get into places they shouldn’t and cry when they shouldn’t. It gets them hurt emotionally or physically–though if adults remain the same, are they truly adults? Or deformed children? With black blood in their throats to spit vile words and dried ink squeezing at their brains for their moronic reasoning for their cowardly and repetitive actions in a limbo of labor and weakness. No one is spared from the judgment of the wolf in the woods, do not fool the wolf because once you do…”

Once upon a time, there were two children, a brother and a sister. Hans was the witty and smart mouthed child who wished to venture on with his sister Gretta, who would wield a sword—a pair of sticks–one short and one long in the shape of a sword tied with string. It was flimsy and weak but they claimed it to be strong enough to slay the monster in their house. Hans was too afraid to face the monster in the house and Gretta claimed she needed to ‘find an even stronger’ sword to slay the monster. So in the dead of night, when the termites would eat away at the underside of the back porch and the roaches in their kitchen would sneak in and into their decaying meat, fruit and whatever else, they slipped out their beds in their tattered and stained nightwear.

The Macabre Wolf…

Gretta’s nightgown was splattered with dust and dirt with brown blood at the end of her dress from when she fell down the stairs ages ago. Hans’ pajama pants were stained with grime and muck from playing in the backyard one morning, too excited to change clothes for it was his birthday. Their father was mad about that. He refused to do laundry, and Gretta never got around to cleaning in a long while, as she had to take care of Hans.

They ventured into their backyard garden, their socks filled with enough holes to give anyone with trypophobia a stroke. They stepped on small twigs and pebbles, the odd shapes and materials of the earth hurting their feet until they made it to the forest lining. Holding each other’s hands tightly, they walked in, immediately feeling splinters hit the soles of their feet. As they walked through the darkness, they tripped over roots and large sharp rocks that hurt their ankles, toes, and bent and broke the nails on their feet when they accidentally kicked them.

They lost track of time as they kept moving but stopped by something that had a horrid smell. A pit lay in front of them. It was the source of the foul odor. The siblings held hands tighter as they stepped forward to look into the pit. As they crept closer and leaned in to look, something large and beastly could be heard inside.

It wasn’t until they were at the edge of the pit that they could see what was inside: a wolf, a wolf that could be larger than a car and meaner than the monster in the house. Its ribs popped out of place and lay on the outside of its skin and fur, its stomach flattened to the near bone, the base of its tail held together by muscle and skin. But its face was the most horrid. Where its face should have been–the snout, the eyes and the nose, laid a cracked skull bigger than its own head as it wrapped around its face like a parasite. The children doubted it even had a lower jaw, as grime and chunks of fluid dripped from the bottom of its boney maw.

The children tried not to scream at the horror they witnessed, but a monster like that truly must rival the one in their house. Gretta had chosen to take the risk, no matter how unsettling or revolting such a creature she dared to call a ‘wolf’ was. It couldn’t be any meaner than the monster in their house.

“Excuse me, Macabre Wolf. Could I trouble you with a request,” she spoke, but the wolf did not answer. “There is a monster in our house. Can you remove it for us? We are too terrified to return. It haunts us in our sleep. We believe a creature like you can defeat it,” she continued.

The wolf attempted to breathe in. Raspy and eerie noises could be heard from the canid-shaped skull as it filled its lungs.

“Return home, the monster will die, be there before sunrise and you will soon sleep tight.”

The children were confused at the Macabre Wolf’s command but dared not to question it. Gretta and Hans made their way to the old house, where the roaches live and the termites feast, where the maggots are born in the stairs and the millipedes cluster up their wet laundry.

Through the untamed roots of the tall trees and large sharp stones, they wandered back home scratching up their feet once again as they moved, their clothes being caught in the briars, causing fresh blood to paint their clothes. They felt lost and forgotten, but the Macabre Wolf said he’d help—so they pushed on to find their way home. After what felt like an eternity of walking through the horrendous forest, the brother and sister finally recognized their backyard, the one full of pebbles and small stone, the carvings they made in the tree with their dad’s hunting knife.

They ran up to the back porch, hoping to see someone, anyone awaiting them—to welcome their return, but what sat on their porch was not human. The Macabre Wolf lay on the porch, its skull now stained with a substance that stained the children’s nightwear, and a girl sat beside it in a cloak that was a deep red.

“Who are you,” Hans asked, pointing to the stranger who hung their head low.

“You do not need to know my name. Call me by my attire,” she claimed as she and the Macabre Wolf stood up.

“You asked we slay a monster, and we answered your plea, but such work does not come without payment,” the Macabre Wolf stated.

“What is it you want from us? Our shoes have holes and our house has bugs. The laundry has millipedes and there are white worms in our stairs,” the siblings remarked. “There is not much for us to offer you, for we have nothing,” Hans shared with the Wolf and the Red Hood Girl.

The Macabre Wolf… (continued)

“What we want is not physical. We simply wish for you to no longer worry,” the two entities explained. “The monster is vanquished. Such a hideous creature caused harm to you before–watch over each other so it may never happen again,” the Red Hood Girl cautioned, as she and the Macabre Wolf took their leave and left the old tattered building.

Hans and Gretta longed to see what this monster looked like up close, so they walked inside. The loud creaking of the door rang out through the house and there at the dinner table they could see the monster. It was weird though–it looked a lot like their father.

Melanny Abreu: Melanny will be a senior this fall.

Anonymous: They’re shy about their artistic talents.

Isabel Aquino: She finished her sophomore year and is a rising junior.

Xin Ping Chen: Soon to be a sophomore, that does too much to do anything art-related.

Ana Cristina Cuevas Ruiz: Ana Cristina, a graduating senior, is going to be a singer and songwriter. She’s going to City College to focus on her career in music and performing arts and also work in fashion and photography.

Andy Contreras: Andy is a rising sophomore.

Lylah De Jesus: Lylah graduates from New Design this June.

Janylis Difo: Janylis will be entering the 11th grade next year.

Ayah Fahme: Ayah is a graduating senior.

Isaac Gomez: Isaac is heading to sophomore year with hopes of pouring more creativity out into the world.

Shayla Hearst Rodriguez: Shayla will be entering 11th grade next year. She says, “Fashion is unique, and those who design it will inspire it.”

Avianna Helmsley: About “Late Shift” (the artwork depicting two workers smoking, p. 6), Avianna says, “It represents how stressed out I was during school and how I felt like it would never end–just constant stress. So they look tired to represent my tiredness and the cigarettes represent a coping skill they use to get by.”

CONTRIBUTORS

Levi Hogan: Levi is a rising junior.

Sandy Jiang: Sandy is a rising junior who loves to express creativity every day. One favorite series she loves to watch is Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Benjamin Lewis: Ben will be a sophomore next year.

Heaven Luciano: Heaven Luciano will be a senior.

Athena Phillip: Athena loves fashion and creativity. She will be a junior next year.

Emilie Prieto: Emilie just finished her senior year at New Design, graduating in June 2023.

Mariela Pujols: Mariela will be a junior this Fall Semester 2023.

Briseis Seda: Briseis is a rising senior. The dog she made on p. 40 & 44 is a corgi. Her play “Beef Jerky” is not about “beef” but a retelling of a friend’s sister’s tragic turn to crime, creatively fusing personal experiences.

Kelly Shi: Kelly is a graduating senior in 2023, who likes pandas, art, and gaming. She hopes to be an art teacher in the future.

MISSION STATEMENT

Lit by Design, founded in 2019, is an online and in-print literary magazine run and operated by the students of New Design High School. Lit by Design is dedicated to introducing teenagers to the world of writing, publishing, interviewing, reviewing, editing, and designing, whether it be on slides, websites, or magazines. We hope to entertain and inspire and enlighten readers like you with the best work submitted to us in the 2022-2023 school year by NDHS students. We thank all contributors and the many talented artists and writers who did submit work that for any of a variety of reasons could not appear in this issue.

THANK YOU!

This issue of Lit by Design would not be possible without the help and support of the entire New Design staff, with a special shout-out to our ELA teachers: Brett Burns, Darren Chase, John

Chiaravalloti, Tori Chirafisi, Maria Clausen, Marlene Godoy, John

Istel, Laura Madera, Mike Murphy, Rachel Posner, and Ranisha

Singh; our librarian Mina Leazer; and the inspiration of the school’s design teachers: Charity Lord, Dave Vranich, Julie Zenobi.