2021 Pandemic

NMC Magazine Pandemic Journal

N0.43

Issue 1 pandemic

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nmc magazine

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• TO DO wear a mask wear a mask wear a mask wear a mask wear a mask wear a mask wear a mask

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• pandemic

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January 4, 2020 | WHO Announces Pneumonia Cases of Unknown Cause January 8, 2020 | CDC Issues Health Advisory January 9, 2020 | CDC Notes Appearance of Novel Coronavirus Outbreak in Wuhan

Announces First Case of COVID-19 January 22, 2020 | CDC Adds Two Airports to Coronavirus Screening January 29, 2020 | Federal Reserve Issues FOMC Statement January 30, 2020 | WHO Declares

Warns Americans Not to Travel to China February 11, 2020 | WHO Announces Name for New Coronavirus Disease: COVID-19 February 19, 2020 | S&P 500 Closes at Record High February 28, 2020 | St

Declares State of Emergency, Announces First Confirmed U.S. Death from COVID-19 March 3, 2020 | FOMC Lowers Federal Funds Rate March 9, 2020, 9:36 am EDT | Declines to S&P 500 Trigger a Lev

Breaker March 13, 2020 | Proclamation on Declaring a National Emergency Concerning the Novel Coronavirus Disease (COVID-19) Outbreak March 15, 2020, 5:00 pm EDT | FOMC Holds Unscheduled M

Guidelines for the Public March 16, 2020, 4:30 pm (EDT) | Federal Reserve Board Approves Actions Decreasing Discount Rate March 17, 2020, 9:15 am EDT | Federal Reserve, FDIC, and Office of the Comptr

Reserve Announces Establishment of Primary Dealer Credit Facility March 18, 2020 | President Trump Signs Executive Order on Prioritizing and Allocating Health and Medical Resources to Respond to the Spread of C COVID-19 Outbreak March 18, Signed Into Law March 19, 2020, Central Banks March 19, 2020, Federal Reserve, FDIC, and Office Dollar Liquidity March 20, 2020,

What Happened

2020, 12:58 pm EDT | Declines

8:30 am EDT | Federal Bank Regu 5:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve

of the Comptroller of the Currency

11:00 am EDT | Federal Reserve B

22, 2020, 6:00 pm EDT | Federal Financial Regulatory Agencies Issue Joint Statement March 23, 2020, 8:00 am EDT | Federal Reserve Announces New Measures to Support Economy March 24, 2020 | In

in Unemployment Insurance Claims March 26, 2020, 12:00 pm EDT | Federal Regulatory Agencies Encourage Small-Dollar Loans for Consumers and Small Businesses March 27, 2020 | CARES Act Signed

Announces Temporary Change to Supplementary Leverage Ratio Rule April 2, 2020 | Second Historic Rise in Unemployment Insurance Claims April 3, 2020 | SBA Announces “Paycheck Protection Program” Loans

Ratio April 6, 2020 | New York Fed Opens Registration Process for the Commercial Paper Funding Facility April 6, 2020, 2:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Paycheck Protection Program Lending Facility Apr

6:00 pm EDT | Federal Banking Agencies to Defer Appraisals April 15, 2020 | SBA Suspends New Paycheck Protection Program Loan Approvals April 15, 2020 | Federal Reserve`s Beige Book Reflects Impact of C

2020, 2:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Outlines Public Release of Information for New Programs April 23, 2020, 5:30 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Board Announces Temporary Actions to Increase Intraday Credit Av

Facility April 28, 2020 | U.S. Becomes First Country with 1 Million Confirmed Cases of COVID-19 April 28, 2020 | President Trump Invokes the Defense Production Act to Order Meat and Poultry Processors to C

Reserve Board Expands Scope and Eligibility for Main Street Lending Program April 30, 2020, 5:15 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Expands Access to its Paycheck Protection Program Liquidity Facility (PPPLF) May 5, 2

Reserve Bank of New York Announces SMCCF will Begin Purchasing ETFs May 12, 2020, 1:15 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Additional Information Regarding TALF Program May 14, 2020, 12:00 pm ED

pm EDT | Regulators Announce Temporary Change to Supplementary Leverage Ratio Rule May 18, 2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases First Report May 19, 2020 | Chair Powell Gives Testimony to 2020 | Fed Listens COVID-19 Event May 26, 2020 | NYSE Reopens Trading Floor May 28, 2020, 4:00 pm EDT | 100,000 COVID-19 Deaths in the United States une 3, 2020, 1:00 pm EDT | Federal

Reserve Expands Main Street Lending Program June 15, 2020 | SBA Reopens Loan Program June 15, 2020 | Main Street Lending Program Opens for Registration June 15, 2020, 5:15 pm EDT | Federal Reserv

Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Second Report June 23, 2020, 12:00 pm EDT | Regulatory Agencies Issue Guidance to Consider COVID-19 Effects June 25, 2020, 4:30 pm EDT | Federal Re

Launches PMCCF June 30, 2020 | Chair Powell Gives Testimony to Congress July 1, 2020 | Daily COVID-19 Cases in U.S. Surpass 50,000 July 4, 2020 | President Trump Signs Extension of PPP July 6

Reserve Modifies MSLP to Expand Access to Qualifying Nonprofits July 20, 2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Third Report July 23, 2020, 2:30 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Expands Counter

International U.S. Dollar Liquidity Arrangement July 30, 2020 | Real GDP Falls Sharply in the Second Quarter of 2020 August 7, 2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Holds Hearing on MSLP August 1

Final Rules on Modifications to Bank Leverage Ratios September 1, 2020 | Treasury Secretary Mnuchin Gives Testimony to Congress September 4, 2020 | Main Street Lending Program Fully Operational Septembe Chair Powell and Treasury Secretary Mnuchin Give Testimony to Congress September 29, 2020, 12:00 pm EDT | Agencies Issue Two Final Rules September 30, 2020 | Federal Reserve Announces Extension of

October 15, 2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Fifth Report October 23, 2020 | New York Fed Adds New Counterparties to Support CPFF and SMCCF October 29, 2020 | Congression

Businesses November 10, 2020 | U.S. Cases of COVID-19 Surge Past 10 Million November 19, 2020 | Secretary Mnuchin Allows Multiple Fed Lending Programs to Expire November 19, 2020 | CDC Rec

November 30, 2020, 9:15 am EST | Federal Reserve Extends Several Lending Facilities December 1, 2020 | Chair Powell and Treasury Secretary Mnuchin Give Testimony to Congress December 2, 2020 | CD

Reaches All-Time High December 11, 2020 | FDA Authorizes COVID-19 Vaccine December 14, 2020 | 300,000 COVID-19 Deaths in the United States December 16, 2020, 2:00 pm EST | Federal Rese

Second Round of Stress Test Results December 23, 2020 | CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinations Have Surpassed 1 Million First Doses in the United States December 27, 2020 | President Trump Signs the

2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Eighth Report January 6, 2021 | CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinations Have Surpassed 5 Million First Doses in the United States January 13, 2021 | C

Deaths in the United States January 20, 2021 | President Biden Issues New COVID-19 Guidance January 21, 2021 | Biden Administration Issues National Strategy and Additional Executive Orders January 25, 202

Commission Releases Ninth Report February 9, 2021, 5:00 pm EST | Federal Reserve Announces Second Extension of Paycheck Protection Program Rule February 13, 2021 | CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinati

2021 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Tenth Report February 27, 2021 | FDA Authorizes Third COVID-19 Vaccine March 2, 2021 | Texas Reopens and Lifts Mask Mandate March 2, 2021 | Presid

Rescue Plan Act Signed into Law March 12, 2021 | CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinations Have Surpassed 100 Million in the United States March 19, 2021 | Federal Reserve Announces Supplementary Lever

n City, Hubei Province, China January 17, 2020, 2:00 pm EST | CDC Announces Enhanced Screenings for Those Traveling to the United States January 21, 2020 | Washington State Department of Health

s “Public Health Emergency of International Concern” January 31, 2020 | Secretary Azar Declares Public Health Emergency for United States for 2019 Novel Coronavirus February 2, 2020 | State Department

tock Markets Report Largest Single Week Declines Since 2008 Financial Crisis February 28, 2020, 2:30 pm EST | Federal Reserve Issues Statement February 29, 2020 | Governor Inslee of Washington

vel 1 Market-Wide Circuit Breaker March 11, 2020 | WHO Declares Novel Coronavirus Outbreak a Pandemic March 12, 2020, 9:36 am EDT | Declines to S&P 500 Trigger a Level 1 Market-Wide Circuit

Meeting Announcing Three Actions March 16, 2020, 9:30 am (EDT) | Declines to S&P 500 Trigger a Level 1 Market-Wide Circuit Breaker March 16, 2020, 4:30 on (EDT) | President Trump Issues Coronavirus

roller of the Currency Announce Coordinated Action March 17, 2020, 10:45 am EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Establishment of Commercial Paper Funding Facility March 17, 2020, 6:00 pm EDT | Federal

COVID-19 March 18, 2020, 11:30 am EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Establishment of Money Market Liquidity Facility March 18, 2020 | Treasury and IRS Issue Guidance on Deferring Tax Payments Due to

s to S&P 500 Trigger a Level 1 Market-Wide Circuit Breaker March 18, 2020, 4:42 pm EDT | NYSE Moves Temporarily to Fully Electronic Trading March 18, 2020 | Families First Coronavirus Response Act

ulatory Agencies Issue Interim Final Rule for Money Market Liquidity Facility March 19, 2020, 9:00 am EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Establishment of Temporary U.S. Dollar Liquidity Arrangement with Other Board Encouraged by Increase in Discount Window Borrowing March 19, 2020 | Governor Newsom of California Announces Executive “Stay Home Except for Essential Needs” Order March 19, 2020 | The

y Issue Joint Statement on CRA Consideration for Activities in Response to the Coronavirus March 20, 2020, 10:00 am EDT | Central Banks Take Coordinated Action to Further Enhance the Provision of U.S.

Board Expands Program of Support for Flow of Credit to Economy March 20, 2020 | Tax Day Moves from April 15 to July 15 March 20, 2020 | Illinois and New York Announce Stay-At-Home Orders March

ncreases to Dow Jones Industrial Average and S&P 500 March 24, 2020, 5:30 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Provides Additional Information on Supervisory Approach Adjustments arch 26, 2020 | Historic Rise

d Into Law March 29, 2020 | Stay at Home Guidelines Extended March 31, 2020, 8:30 am EDT | Federal Reserve Establishes FIMA Repo Facility April 1, 2020, 4:45 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Board

s April 3, 2020 | Federal Agencies Encourage Mortgage Servicers To Work With Struggling Homeowners Affected By COVID-19 April 6, 2020 | Agencies Announce Changes to the Community Bank Leverage

ril 8, 2020, 11:30 am EDT | Federal Reserve Temporarily Modifies Growth Restriction on Wells Fargo April 9, 2020 | Federal Reserve to Provide up to $2.3 Trillion in Loans to Support the Economy April 14, 2020,

COVID-19 April 16, 2020, 9:00 am EDT | Paycheck Protection Program Liquidity Facility is Fully Operational April 16, 2020 | White House Releases Guidelines for Relaxing Social Distancing Restrictions April 23,

vailability April 24, 2020 | Paycheck Protection Program and Health Care Enhancement Act Signed Into Law April 27, 2020 | Federal Reserve Board Expands the Scope and Duration of the Municipal Liquidity

Continue Operating April 29, 2020 | Real GDP Falls 4.8% in the First Quarter of 2020 April 29, 2020, 2:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Issues FOMC Statement April 30, 2020, 10:00 am EDT | Federal

2020, 3:30 pm EDT | Federal Banking Agencies Modify Liquidity Coverage Ratio for MMLF and PPPLF May 8, 2020 | BLS Reports Historic Unemployment and Job Loss Numbers May 11, 2020 | Federal

DT | Federal Reserve Releases Report on the Economic Well-Being of U.S. Households May 15, 2020, 8:30 am EDT | Historic Decline in Advance Monthly Retail and Food Service Sales May 15, 2020, 5:45

o Congress May 20, 2020 | CDC Provides Guidance as States Begin to Reopen May 20, 2020, 3:00 pm EDT | Federal Agencies Share Principles for Offering Responsible Small-Dollar Loans May 21, Reserve Expands Number and Type of Entities Eligible for MLF June 5, 2020 | BLS Reports Surprising Job Gains June 8, 2020 | NBER Declares Recession Began in February June 8, 2020 | Federal

ve Seeks Feedback on Extending Main Street Lending Program June 15, 2020, 5:15 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Updates to its Secondary Market Corporate Credit Facility June 18, 2020 |

eserve Releases Stress Tests Results June 26, 2020 | Texas and Florida Among First States to Reverse Reopenings June 28, 2020 | California Reverses Reopening une 29, 2020, 1:30 pm EDT | Federal Reserve

6, 2020 | SBA Releases PPP Loan Data July 6, 2020 | MSLP Fully Operational July 15, 2020, 4:30 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Rule Change to PPP July 17, 2020, 10:00 am EDT | Federal

rparties in TALF, CPFF, and SMCCF July 28, 2020, 9:30 am EDT | Federal Reserve Extends Operation of Emergency Lending Programs July 29, 2020, 2:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Announces Extension of

11, 2020, 5:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Lowers Interest Rates for Municipal Liquidity Facility August 21, 2020 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Fourth Report August 26, 2020 | Agencies Issue

er 17, 2020 | Congressional Testimony from the Division of Financial Stability September 18, 2020, 1:00 pm EDT | Federal Reserve Updates FAQs for the Main Street Lending Program September 22, 2020 | Measures to Large Banks` Capital Resilience October 2, 2020,

nal Oversight Commission Releases Sixth Report October 30, 2020,

commends Against Travel During the Thanksgiving Holiday November 20,

DC Changes Quarantine Guidelines and Considerations for Domestic

Last Year?

11:54 pm EDT | President Trump Tests Positive for COVID-19 11:00 am EDT | Fed Modifies MSLP to Support Smaller 2020 | 250,000 COVID-19 Deaths in the United States Travel December 2, 2020 | Hospitalization for COVID

erve Announces Extension of International U.S. Dollar Liquidity Arrangement December 18, 2020 | FDA Authorizes Second COVID-19 Vaccine December 18, 2020, 4:30 pm EST | Federal Reserve Releases

e Coronavirus Response and Relief Supplemental Appropriations Act Into Law December 29, 2020, 11:00 am EST | Federal Reserve Announces Extension of Main Street Lending Program Facilities December 31,

CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinations Have Surpassed 10 Million First Doses in the United States January 15, 2021 | SBA Reopens Paycheck Protection Program January 20, 2021 | 400,000 COVID-19

21 | U.S. Cases of COVID-19 Surpass 25 Million January 28, 2021 | CDC Estimates COVID-19 Vaccinations Have Surpassed 25 Million in the United States January 28, 2021 | Congressional Oversight

ions Have Surpassed 50 Million in the United States February 24, 2021 | 500,000 COVID-19 Deaths in the United States February 24, 2021 | National Emergency Declaration Extended February 26,

dent Biden Invokes the Defense Production Act to Expedite Vaccine Production March 3, 2021 | Federal Reserve Announces Extension of Paycheck Protection Program Liquidity Facility March 11, 2021 | American

rage Ratio Will Expire as Scheduled March 23, 2021 | Chair Powell and Treasury Secretary Yellen Give Testimony to Congress March 30, 2021 | Congressional Oversight Commission Releases Eleventh Report

Covers

by Kamron Williams

pg 2

The Great Unknown, by Liz Kennington

pg 3

All In This Alone, by Molly Tank

pg 4-5

What Happened Last Year?, by Design Staff

pg 6-7

Safe at Home, by Martha Sprout

pg 8

Changes: Pandemic, April 2020, by Nancy Tucker

pg 8

One Way, by Bethany Vang

pg 9

Untitled, by Lisa Schulte

pg 10-11

Nincompoop`s Guide to Oil Changes,

by McKagen Chio

pg 12

Necessity, by Hannah Strong

pg 12

The Barbed Shadows, by Hannah Strong

pg 13

Out There, by Hannah Strong

pg 14-15

Battle in the Open Air, by Kyle Morrill

pg 14

Little Seal, by Madison Bartlett

pg 16-20

Water, by Daniela Castillo

pg 20

Keyhole Vacation, Rebecka Rosebrugh

pg 21-22

Two Faces of the Floating Docks, by Alisa Skripnikova

pg 22

Untitled, Matthew Hicks

pg 23

Give Me Space, by Brie Ellis

pg 24

Quiet, by Ayanna Allen

pg 25

March 16, 2020, by Sage Atlas

pg 25

Untitled, by Jasmine Dean

pg 26

Aww Rats, by Emma Lee Greene

pg 26

Wear a Mask, by Maddie Ingorsol

pg 26

RIP Closure, by Breana Riegler

pg 27

Moonlight Dancer, by Riley Dowling

pg 28-30

The Journal of Solomon Petro, by Timothy Atkins

pg 30

Penelope in the Garden, by Madison Bartlett

pg 31

Isolated North, by Meredith Keeler

pg 32

Recipe for the Scent of Snow, by Doe Risko

pg 33

Pining Adventure, by Holly Johnson

pg 34

Conte Method, by Gavin Bebb

pg 35

Daybreak, by Susan Odgers

pg 35

Doves at Sunrise, by Sage Atlas

pg 36-37

Draíocht

by Anna Parsons `

pg 36-37

6

Untitled, by Courtney Ockert

pg 38

Regal, by Lexy Leonard

pg 39

Medusa, by Lexy Leonard

nmc magazine

pg 40

Electric Dylan, by Natalie Preston

pg 40-41

Elements, by Liz Kennington

pg 41

Quarantine Vibes, by Lexy Leonard

pg 42-44

Inside Life, by Todd Manns

pg 42-43

Alone series, by Cali Willson

pg 45

Six Feet Over Six Feet, by James Asava

pg 46

Untitled, by Matt Esckelson

pg 47

Inspiration in Isolation, by Levi Schriber

pg 48

happy; or, other quarantine musings, by Ann Hosler

pg 49-52

Uncertain Angles, by Hannah Carr

pg 52

Narcissus` Online Class, by Elsie Campbell

pg 53

NEOWISE, by Caroline Schaefer-Hills

pg 54

Stay. At. Home, by Alissia J. R. Lingaur

pg 55

Running on Empty, by Riley Kate Robinson

pg 56

Class of `21, by Shelby Bigelow

pg 57

Mr. Django Freeman, by John Greiner

pg 57

Untitled, by Halie Karazim

pg 58-59

County Kerry, by Hannah Baker

pg 58-59

Early Mornings of July, by Anne-Marie Kabat

pg 60-62

Fine Dining at Farhat Sweets,

by Aysha Chowdhury

pg 62

The Piper Hotel, by Shelby Bigelow

pg 63

Stormy Serenity, by Holly Johnson

pg 63

against regret, by Liam Strong

pg 64

Untitled, by Cobe Lund

pg 65

BLOOMING SEASON, by Keaton Wilder

pg 65

Humpty Dumpty, by Gavin Bebb

pg 66-67

Don`t Be Hayseed, by Randi Upton

pg 67

The Night, by Brandee Sasser-Drone

pg 68

Night Fall, by Gavin Bebb

pg 69-71

dandelion hereafter, by Andrea Grabowski

pg 70

Untitled, by Elsie Campbell

pg 71

Outdoor Memories, by Molly Tank

pg 72-73

365 Days Later, by Avery Underwood

pg 74

Untitled, by Emma MacPherson

pg 75

Audio Code

pg 76-77

Untitled, by Sage Johnston , with staff photos

pg 78-80

Editors` Notes

Back Cover dot dot dot..., by Erika Emerson

pandemic

Safe at Home

by Martha Sprout

7

Changes: Pandemic, April 2020

by Nancy Tucker I’ve inventoried the freezer and pantry, both upstairs and down.

I’ve made a list of what foodstuffs we have to sustain us over the coming days.

I’ve reviewed cleaning and medical supplies—hand soap, dish soap, hydrogen peroxide, isopropyl alcohol, Lysol wipes. Twenty-five rolls of toilet paper. Six paper masks.

I’ve checked on people—grandkids in CT, aunt in Minneapolis, brothers in Lansing, cousins in upstate New York, friends in Flint, nieces and nephews scattered—always asking, how is it in your neighborhood, your county, your state?

I’m keeping a journal—what I did, thought, felt—so I don’t lose track of the everyday, of what happened when, of where I was and who I saw.

Even though now, it’s nobody up close.

One Way by Bethany Vang

I’m making a list of people to call—just in case.

I never really thought I would need it. But now, I’m including phone numbers. Just in case.

This new world requires planning, determination, stamina— a careful, prudent approach.

I don’t think I like it very much.

8

nmc magazine

Untitled

by Lisa Schulte pandemic

9

Every car, besides an electric car, needs an

oil change about every three months or 9,000 miles, whichever comes first. It is important to keep up with this schedule to make sure your car continues to drive smoothly.

You could go to a mechanic to get your oil

changed, but where`s the fun in that? Not to mention that you could wait for hours, even days for them to finish.

With this expert advice from Mass Produced Manuals Inc., there ll be no need for a mechanic ever again.

First, find some oil around your house. I sug-

gest vegetable oil since it`s the most cost-efficient choice. If you would like your car to smell nice without

Nincompoop's Guide to Oil Changes

using an air freshener, use essential oils instead. You could use pretty much any oil lying around the house, just make sure there is a large quantity of it.

Next, get under your car. You`ll need a flashlight also need some sort of weapon* like a sword or knife,

or torch so that you can see while under there. You will or if you don`t care much about your car`s ability to drive, you

by McKagen Chio

could simply use a gun.

Once

Make sure not to get any of the oil on yourself; oil can be quite harmful to humans.

under your car, poke or blow holes into random places until oil drains out of it.

Make sure not to get any of the oil on yourself; oil can be quite harmful to humans. Wear your fanciest clothes (a wedding dress or a top hat maybe) and disposable deli gloves to avoid getting oil on your skin. Getting oil

10

nmc magazine

on yourself could result in your skin breaking out in small Lightning McQueens that all shout "Ka-Chow” in unison more than 500 times a day. If this occurs, please contact your meme dealer right away. I`m sure they`ll know what to do. But whatever you do, do not call our company about this. This is not under our jurisdiction. We are sick of getting calls about this and now our best customer service representative, Linda, is threatening to quit!

Then, after not calling us about that little problem, use duct tape to cover all the holes

you just made.

After draining all the oil from your car, patching up the holes, and ensuring you didn`t

accidentally cut your own brakes, get out from under your car before you start looking like a complete weirdo.

Next, open the hood of your car, cut off the top of your selected oil, and pour the

entire contents over your engine. You`ll have to let your car sit for a few days without driving it so the oil can flow throughout your whole car. This means you`ll have to carpool with your creepy co-worker, Walter, but you just have to deal with it to ensure your car doesn`t break down from a faulty oil change.

If Walter becomes too persistent in his advances, please refer to our other manual,

reprinted by popular demand, “Nincompoop`s Guide to Dealing with Walter.”

Your oil change is now complete. After a few days, your car should be ready to run

smoothly once again.

Congratulations! If you follow these simple directions you`ll be an expert at

changing your oil in no time!

*Weapons I suggest not using: cannons, 18th Century muskets, or your own fists.

pandemic

11

by Hannah Strong

Necessity

The Barbed Shadows

by Hannah Strong

12

nmc magazine

Out There

by Hannah Strong

pandemic

13

Battle in the Open Air

I lowered my spyglass with a frown. “Cap-

by Kyle Morrill

gunner, climbed to the second level with me and

tain Scarlet!” I yelled from where I stood on the

mounted the crank-powered Gatling gun on the

second level catwalk.

starboard side. I sighed and mounted the port-

side, dual-barreled mini-mortar.

Scarlet Rose, captain of the Remilia and its

small crew of four, looked up from her navigation

and airway charts. A lock of ginger hair fell in front

Federation, having broken into and out of their

of emerald eyes and freckle-dusted cheeks. She

airspace while on trading runs. This was no small

scowled at me. “What is it? I`m busy plotting our

feat, considering the large blockades erected

course through the blockades!” She blew the hair

around the nation in their attempts at isolation.

off her forehead.

It was high-risk, but there were many buyers

inside the Federation for externally produced

I pointed to the horizon where a large,

Our ship was fairly well known to the

shadowed mass hovered above the sapphire waves.

goods.

“There is a patrolling frigate low to the water ahead.”

A fireball flew through the air past us. Seems

“What!?” she yelled. “There aren`t sup-

A deep, resounding boom filled my ears.

posed to be any patrolling vehicles near here!”

they know we`re here, I thought as I aligned the

She climbed the ladder to the catwalk, stalked to

sights on my target. The report of the automatic

where I stood next to the right mounted gun, and

gun came from my right as Sabrina cranked the

pulled the spyglass from my hand. She peered

handle of the weapon. Shots streaked across

through it, at the drifting frigate. The other two mem-

the sky, impacting the hull of the opposing ves-

bers of our crew, Sabrina and Valerie, looked up

sel. The vessel returned with its own barrage.

from their work to see the commotion.

“Yea, that`s definitely a Federation frigate,”

Scarlet spoke. She collapsed my spyglass and handed it back to me, which I stowed away. She turned and leaned on the railing, looking down at the two women on the lower deck. “All of you, prepare for combat,” she commanded sternly. “Get the engines topped off and guns loaded.”

Scarlet went to the wheel and unlocked it in

preparation for the upcoming battle, while I started loading the front-most guns of the ship. Soon after, we were traveling full speed toward our anticipated enemy. As we neared, Sabrina, our primary

14

Little Seal

by Madison Bartlett nmc magazine

I pointed to the horizon where a large shadowed mass hovered above the sapphire waves.

A rocket struck our engine, causing it to sputter

ate as our vessel rammed it. On the lower deck,

before giving its last breath.

Valerie white-knuckled the mounted flamethrower,

dowsing as much as she possibly could in fire.

Our engineer, Valerie, shouted profanities

from below as she worked to get the engine back

online. I turned my focus back on the target in

ed free from the hell that engulfed the other ship.

front of us, which was much closer now. Sabrina

I released my grip on the handles of the mortars

reloaded her weapon, while I squeezed the trigger

and breathed a sigh of relief. We flew steady but I

of the twin-mortar, aiming for the rear engines of

still felt shaky.

the broadsiding ship. A few of my shots went wide

until one pierced an engine, causing it to detonate

the center of the deck. Her face was reddened

with a bright flash.

and slightly scorched.

A large plume of smoke billowed from the

After what felt like forever, our vessel drift-

“Is everyone okay!?” Valerie shouted from

“I`m shaken but still standing!” I called

broadside of their vehicle and metallic shrapnel

down to her while making my way to the ladder.

collided with our balloon. I frowned and realigned

my sights. Sabrina targeted specific components,

from the ladder at the bottom. She unbuttoned part

disabling multiple guns and shearing off large

of her jacket, the gunner`s sweaty shirt beneath

swathes of armor. Soon, my twin-mortars clanged

plastered to her body.

as I emptied the weapon on the most vulnerable

sections of the frigate.

away from the burning frigate. “I`m fine as well.”

She looked back at us, grouped around Valerie.

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!” Scarlet ex-

“Same here!” Sabrina chimed in, leaping

Scarlet remained at the helm, steering us

claimed from the lower deck.

“Y`all did a wonderful job. A round on me when

we make it to Traverse!”

On instinct, I locked the gun in position and

grabbed on tight.

*CRRRRANG-SSHH!*

Metal bent and broke. I gripped my weap-

We cheered, celebrating yet another victo-

ry for the Remillia.

on tighter, trying to not fall from the lurch of the impact. Chunks of brass sprayed around us, along with steel rivets and bolts popping out from both vehicles. A large stream of fire sprayed the frigpandemic

15

Scene 1.

Water

by Daniela Castillo

It is a bleak Spring day in the English countryside during the mid-1800s. The grand LUCAS MANOR and its vast terrain stands imposingly. At the side of the manor, NEREA GALLO, 22, a Spanish noblewoman, approaches the Manor’s SERVANTS QUARTERS ENTRANCE. Her delicate SHOES trek through the mud; her dark black hair clings to a silk SCARF, and a lace PARASOL rests on her shoulder, useless against the cold. She has traveled a long distance.

A pair of MAIDS in warm scarves enter the house. Once inside, they dry off by a small WOOD STOVE. Nerea produces an embroidered HANDKERCHIEF and wipes sweat and grime from her brow. The maids look at her disgustedly, careful to avoid contact. AGATHA, the housekeeper, enters from the main hall. They bow to each other.

AGATHA: Miss, may I help you?

Nerea speaks English with a Spanish accent, though her high class education is evident.

NEREA: I’m looking for my sister, Maria Eugenia.

AGATHA: (hesitantly) Of course. (to a nearby butler) Mister Crenshaw, send for Miss Marie. (to Nerea) This way, please.

Agatha exits into the house. The maids whisper to each other as she leaves. Nerea follows proudly through magnificent HALLWAYS decorated with expensive ART. Agatha opens a door to a PARLOR and gestures Nerea inside.

AGATHA: Miss Marie will be here shortly.

Agatha exits, scoffing at the TRAIL OF MUD left by Nerea.

Scene 2.

Sometime later, MARIA EUGENIA “MARIE” GALLO, 16, enters the parlor. It is an elegant, light blue room with a quaint FIREPLACE and a large WINDOW overlooking the surrounding gardens.

Marie bows to Nerea, who waits by a TABLE adorned with flowers.

MARIE: Good afternoon.

16

nmc magazine

Nerea rushes to her sister. She kisses Marie on both cheeks, but is met with coldness. ?

NEREA: Querida, no sabes cuanto te extrañe. ~

`~ ` Cómo estás?

Marie pulls away and walks to the window. She wipes her cheek with a HANDKERCHIEF. MARIE: I’m well. Do please make it a habit to speak the King’s English while you’re here.

NEREA: (gloomily) Father’s estate is empty. Where are your things?

MARIE: In my room. I was urged to live here by Mister Lucas, while Father settled their affairs in the city.

NEREA: (walking to the door) I will call for them, then.

MARIE: That’s not necessary.

NEREA: (propping her parasol against the wall by the door) Maria Eugenia, did you receive my correspondence? I came here toMARIE: I know why you’re here. Ada read me your letters.

NEREA: (bitterly) I see. What did she say?

MARIE: (leaning against the window) She told me of your engagement. I suppose you’ve come to be congratulated. Why else would you trouble yourself with such an arduous journey through the country? ?

NEREA: (angrily)

Así` te dijo la desgraciada de Ada?

MARIE: How dare you speak ill of her! Ada has no reason to lie.

Nerea approaches Marie cautiously, standing between Marie and the window. ` abandonando tu obligación ` a nuestra familia.

NEREA: Eres absurda, Maria. Estás MARIE: I’ve broken no promises. I had no quarrels with Father when he uprooted us. I made friends with the daughter of his business partner, and I live in their house to protect Father’s reputation. Tell me, when I implored you to wait for marriage, was it too steep a price for my obedience?

Marie turns from Nerea and walks to the small table.

NEREA: Te has convertido en una interesada. Yo no quise esta vida para mi, pero no puedo cambiar los hechos, ni los voy a defender. pandemic

17

Marie slams her hand upon the table; the flower vase TREMBLES. MARIE: How can you say I’m selfish!? What will happen if I go back to Spain with you? You’ll give a Milanese gentleman a family, and Father will condemn me to a life I do not deserve. I’m happy as I am now, Nerea. Does that mean nothing to you? ` eso.

NEREA: Mi hermana nunca pensaría MARIE: I am not the sister you left. If you are here to absolve yourself of blame and make insinuations about me, then I advise you, at the very least, speak properly.

NEREA: (strained) These people never will see us as equals.

Marie holds the parasol as if it were a soiled rag. She hands it to Nerea. Marie’s light-skinned HANDS enclose Nerea’s darker FINGERS. MARIE: (proudly) You are mistaken. I am treated as I rightfully deserve. It’s a pity your kind lacks propriety, but I will not defend the truth.

Marie opens the door and calls to Agatha, who is dusting a nearby STATUE. MARIE: Agatha.

AGATHA: Yes, Miss Marie?

MARIE: This woman has journeyed an impressive distance, and I’m worried she may have contracted something from south of the continent. We might be safer if she left. Promptly.

Agatha covers her nose with a HANDKERCHIEF. AGATHA: (grabbing Nerea’s arm) As you wish, Miss.

NEREA: (snatching her arm away) I will walk out myself.

Holding her head high, Nerea returns Marie’s shallow bow and leaves.

Scene 3.

Later that day, golden SUNLIGHT dances upon a secret POND, far from the Lucas estate. ADA LUCAS, 18, lounges on the unkempt grass. Dressed in white undergarments, her PETTICOAT is littered

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nearby. Ada leans against her shoulder, eyes closed to the sunlight. She sits up, alert to FOOTSTEPS from beyond the hedges. Ada covers herself with the petticoat. Marie steps into the clearing, solemn.

ADA: (uncovering herself) You frightened me.

Lost in thought, Marie kneels beside Ada. ADA (CONT’D): Marie _ MARIE: (beaming) It’s splendid, Ada. She’s returning to Spain. Alone. (snicker) You should have seen how she was dressed. Like she’d walked all the way from the coast.

ADA: Her impropriety is merely a relic of her primitive ancestors.

Ada rests her hand near Marie’s. CLOSE UP of their light-skinned HANDS. MARIE: Quite so.

ADA: It is a pity you spoke to her alone.

MARIE: Unfortunately, I’m more accustomed to her inherent half-witted inclinations. She wouldn’t comprehend what you might tell her.

Ada caresses Marie’s exposed NECK. Marie looks around to make sure they are not seen.

MARIE (CONT’D): (warning) Ada...

ADA: (gesturing to pond) There’s no one here, darling.

Marie presses Ada’s hand tightly to her cheek. Ada leans in and KISSES Marie. The gesture does not hesitate in its passion. Sunlight blesses the tips of the TREES.

Scene 4.

Several days later on the frigid Southern coast of England, Nerea carries a cumbersome PARCEL of clothes to a ROWBOAT. Her delicate SHOES slip on the ice, probing the beach for its sparse patches of sand. Nerea’s excessively elegant ATTIRE is flung about by the wind. Her breath trembles as she reaches a group of English SEAMEN loading packages and livestock onto the rowboat. SEAMAN #1 eyes Nerea. He speaks to SEAMAN #2.

SEAMAN #1: What ‘ave we got ‘ere? pandemic

19

SEAMAN #2: (seizing Nerea’s luggage) Must be part of da livestock.

NEREA: (indignantly) Be careful!

The WIND clips Nerea’s voice. The men laugh, loading the last of the cargo onto the rowboats. Nerea is crammed between two wooden CRATES, facing the shore. The rowboat departs for its ship. SALT WATER spits on Nerea. She peers at the darkening CLOUDS above. Helpless as an animal, Nerea retreats within herself.

keyhole vacation

by Rebecka Rosebrugh

FIN.

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nmc magazine

Two Faces of the Floating Docks

by Alisa Skripnikova

look presents the grand finale. Unlike the wobbling dock platforms, the overlook stays perfectly still, enveloped in a sturdy handrail.

Up a few quick steps, the reward awaits.

At the shoreline of a glistening pond, an hour-

glass reflection of a bushy treeline appears in the water, a mirror image like two wings on a butterfly.

Warm rays of ethereal light dance across still waters, abundant with delicate waterlilies. Mother Nature softly hums ancient melodies to those who listen well.

Wakened from the soothing hypnosis, one can re-

turn safely to the beginning of the now familiar “floating docks.”

An Ominous Bog

An Ethereal Ecosystem

In the charming village of Lake Ann twinkles a

hidden gem. Past a short, forested trail, an intricate maze of docks wraps around a serene pond in a nature reserve. Gently swaying in the wind like sailboats on an open sea, the maze of platforms stretches a quarter of a mile over the wondrous wetland, at the end of which visitors can discover a reward as worthwhile as the path itself.

Past a coffee-colored bog, fuzzy eastern larch-

es dazzle with minuscule pinecone clusters while velvety cattails stand upright like grenadiers in busby hats. A green memory foam of root structures serves as a helipad for many hovering dragonflies. All around the marsh, a cheerful choir of crickets accompany whistling songbirds, parading around the marsh like theater performers.

At the edge of the last platform, a sturdy overpandemic

In the nondescript town of Lake Ann hides a

malevolent secret. Beneath a thick forest separated by a narrow trail, a festering marsh grasps a deep-seated pond like the claws of a witch holding her glass eye. Weathering platforms of wooden docks drag across nearly half a mile of muck, creaking and moaning in the wind.

Few brave

visitors walk this shaky path, where

Mother Nat ure softly hums ancient melodies to those who listen well.

upon the first turn, a bottomless pit of muck large enough to swallow a small army awaits them. Gathered around its rotten stench, black flies swarm above an oozing peat bog. Tangled, brown sawgrass rattles over soggy ground. Birds cautiously

21

whistle for one another in the surrounding pine forest.

A daunting overlook emerges at the edge of the docks. Through the stuffy air, above

its tedious stairs, hundreds of ravenous mosquitoes whiz angrily. At the top of the splintery tower overlooking a lifeless pond, otherwise clear reflections of a treeline swirl like pieces of broken glass in a shroud of cloudy water while an eerie silence casts over uncivilized Two Faces of the

land.

A cold mist sends shivers down the spine as if

Floating

La Llorona herself has appeared to cry to an unsuspect-

Docks

ing visitor. Suddenly, a camouflaging bullfrog imprudently

Continued

croaks, vibrating the overlook platform. The desolation ris-

Untitled

by Matthew Hicks

es, perhaps to advise its occupants to leave before sunset.

Tangled, brown sawgrass rattles over soggy ground.

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nmc magazine

Give Me Space

by Brie Ellis

pandemic

23

Quiet by Ayanna Allen The dangers of winter are greed, and the insatiable hunger that comes with it. It makes mortal men selfish. That’s what my father told me, and his father before him. He also told me the silence of these cold, winter nights is dangerous too.

That’s why I tell my daughter it is time to return to the safety of our home, but I see the desperation in her eyes when a moose crosses the moonlit field. This winter has been sparse, and we haven’t eaten in a week--but nothing is worth this. Nothing is worth the staggered movements of this moose, pretending not to notice us in the blind. Pretending so it can lure us out. I want to tell her to lower the gun, and to just wait it out until it leaves... but I feel our inevitable end long before it happens.

She takes in a deep breath and pulls the trigger. The moose’s black, empty eyes bore into mine as the bullet flies through its chest. It doesn’t fall, right away. It stares at me, just for a moment longer.

Its knees wobble and then it drops. My daughter gets up and straps the gun to her back, and unsheathes the knife buckled to her belt. I feel frozen to the cold, metal seat.

I watch in distant horror as she draws close. The moose carcass throbs and buckles in on itself-as if its bones are breaking and then rearranging. It stands to its full height now. Ribcage exposed and dripping with clots of congealed blood. It is tar black under the subtle light of the silvered moon.

A deformed hand reaches forward and straight through my daughter’s chest, tearing out her young heart. She doesn’t even get to scream, but the crunch of the frosted snow when her corpse hits the ground is deafening.

It crouches, stuffing its decaying face with the flesh torn off my little girl’s body. There’s a ringing in my ears, and I find myself standing despite the terror rushing through my veins. I stumble out of the blind and into the moonlit field. The creature’s inescapable eyes lift to me and its gore-soaked hand reaches out to me. I drag my feet, beckoned by its starving and eldritch presence. I fall before my child’s lifeless body--and eat.

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nmc magazine

by Sage Atlas

by Jasmine Dean son

pandemic

25

Aww, Rats by EmmaLee Greene

Wear a

Mask b

y Mad

die Ing

orsol

RIP Closure by Breana Riegler

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nmc magazine

Moonlight Dancer

by Riley Dowling

pandemic

27

The Journal of Solomon Petro

caine, easily accessible in the alley behind the printing presses. In recent years, I used speed; it is more economical than coke. I must clarify, however, that I never chased any sort of high from the drugs. They were a tool, a means to chase after the edges of my consciousness.

During those days of borrowed time, I hap-

pened upon a curious phenomenon: in the latest hours of a binge, around the time I had planned to sleep, I found myself violently struck by inspirations like no other. It is a dreamlike state, when something fundamental in reality seems to shatter, and the observer is left to gaze upon whatever it left behind. In these fits of pro-

by Timothy Atkins JANUARY 12

Twilight falls fast here in the wild. From my study,

I have a clear view of a great frozen lake extending beyond the horizon. The sun rests on the ice some ten miles out, casting arcs of piercing white light up the shelf to my solitary refuge. Night will come quickly, and I intend to continue my writing until I can no longer muster the strength. Tonight, I fear I may falter. Four days is the longest I have managed to maintain consciousness, and I feel a strong chill coming on.

I began these wild excursions into conscious-

ness in my college days, out of misguided necessity.

I will not forget those nervous nights or eerie dawns, watching the sun slowly creep its way through the morning sky. Caffeine was a must for those nights and days, until it wasn`t enough. I leapt to nicotine first; the aesthetics appealed to me in the midst of my rebellious teenage years. Working as a journalist, it was co-

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longed existence, where the eyes blur, and the extremities stumble, and the rational mind begins to lag, my best work was born. I began to carry a small journal with me on these excursions, translating the fevered, shaky script into poems, short fiction, and novels. I abandoned my career as a journalist; what use did reporting honest, sober truths hold? My artistic life, from then on, has been dedicated to boldly chasing the edge of conscious reality. To catch the briefest glimpse over the cliffside is a wonderful thing, I thought for a time. Until the chills and the dreams came.

It began as a tingle in my writing hand, a minor

annoyance. Weeks later, it had crept into my wrist, then my lower arm.

In the nights I did sleep, I saw visions of a great lake of ice at twilight.

I could feel something

My artistic life, from then on, has been dedicated to boldly chasing the edge of conscious reality.

lurking there, nmc magazine

just beyond my line of sight, waiting for the sun to set on the frozen waste. I awaited it, eagerly so; who could call themselves a writer and shrink back in fear? But by then, the chill would take me, and I would awaken in an especially cold sweat. I obsessed after these dreams, but as often as they came, they would disappoint. So now, four years after the chills and the visions began, I sit here, gazing out at the same horizon.

The sun has set now, and a pale moon looms high over the waste. The wind has picked

up, and what were once peaceful swirls of dancing mist are shrieking gales carrying knives of sleet. As the nighttime chill sets in, I leave my study to adjust the thermostat. When I return, a figure stands alone out on the ice.

It is thin, dangerously so. It seems to buckle slightly on its four pinprick legs. As the

cloud shrouding it in shadows drifts past, it tenses and trains its head on my cabin. Tusks gleaming, the skeleton of a Siberian musk deer stands watch on the ice. I cannot believe my eyes, and yet it remains there, standing still under the light of the full moon.

Lord, these chills! Even as I hear the furnace shake and bellow, I sense a frost

forming on my bones. As my skin and muscles contract and the frigid sweat flows freely, the faint memory of Dante`s ninth circle comes to mind: the frozen lake of treacherous souls. Have these excursions broken some unspoken covenant? Have I betrayed the silent trust of this world and its people? If that is the case, then so be it! Freezing here in my study, I, Solomon Petro, scoff at the tyranny of this reality!

Whipping my head from the journal, I find more figures have joined the deer. There

are humanoids among them, pale specters walking, crawling, touching their faces, and the ice in what seems to be disbelief. The flash of moonlight on water reveals their origin; from the lake, I realize. After years of crushing pressure and visceral cold, how grand does it feel to liberate oneself? I feel I can sympathize with these lost souls.

One couple begins to dance, then another, and another. As the full moon climbs to

its zenith, the skeletal waltz proceeds light-footed across the ice. I hear a clack-clacking echo across the lake, and I realize they are laughing. They`ve come closer to my lakeside cabin now. With a shiver, I realize one of them is beckoning me.

I think I will join them. They are the first I have encountered who would walk and

dance, despite what the natural order dictates. I feel a profound kinship with these jovial fools who would so boldly defy reality. For any who may come across this journal, know that Solomon Petro lives true to his convictions.

JULY 20 BREAKING--US NATIONAL FOUND DEAD IN LAKE BAIKAL pandemic

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The Journal of Solomon Petro Continued

SIBERIA--Solomon Petro, an American author and journalist, was found deceased on the shores of Lake Baikal early Saturday morning. Initial autopsy reports declared the cause of death to be hypothermia, but due to the freezing temperatures, a time of death could not be determined.

penelope in the garden

by Madison Bartlett

30

nmc magazine

by Meredith Keeler

pandemic

31

I.

Recipe for the Scent of Snow

When you no longer feel joy as you open curtains to a world changed overnight, remove yourself from latitude where snow falls. Move closer to the equator, some temperate or tropical paradise.

by Doe Risko

Spend not less than a decade where snow does not exist. Notice many species of mold grow freely year-round where seasons are blurred, leaves don`t change color or drop, where winters without snow bring perpetual rain, or sun enough to stay bronzed.

II. Hike the beauty of your new land as your bones slowly chill; hypothermia is not rare in 45-degree rain. Then only hike in summer. At the beach, lay down that towel on warm sand, worms an inch beneath the surface itching to penetrate your golden-ing skin, lay eggs and reproduce. Revel in scenery where plants grow without lull, or may rest a little. Find yourself weeding in February.

III. Happy, no snow to shovel, pay to pump iron at the gym. Happily clean your windshield of merely pollutants, bugs, and pollen all year, not frost or ice or snow. Stay happy when sun bites your face instead of wind chill. Notice wrinkles. Fear melanoma in lieu of embracing anti-aging vasoconstriction from cold. Stay there in that place until you find the tang of winter absent. Dismiss this a few more years.

Think of snow not often, then fight traffic or fly to crowded places where snow is. This snow may change from oatmeal to ice or avalanche before you clamp on your boots.

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IV. Remember how lucky you are not to plow your grocery cart through snow to the car, then to the cart return bin. You can just leave the cart in the sunny parking lot, wherever. Like everybody else who doesn`t bother. Then try to find a parking spot without two or three carts in it.

V. When unease of missing this crucial thing starts to overcome, here is a recipe for the scent of snow: Take a yard of wax paper. Crumple it. Stick it in the back of the freezer.

Forget it is there.

When no snow becomes unbearable, take the wax paper ball out of the freezer.

Sniff.

The scent only lasts a handful of seconds.

Repeat often as necessary, until this doesn`t work.

VI. Move back to four seasons. Run out the door, wildly dance in the first snowfall. Celebrate the blue, truly blue hour only snow brings. When life with snow starts to challenge your psyche once more, find a sauna, or take a bath. Make soup.

Share it with friends who made it to your front door in snow unshoveled. nmc magazine

Pining Adventure

by Holly Johnson pandemic

33

e. So kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from the playground. I have loved you since we e eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. All I can do is say that these arms were e for holding you. I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. We took a chance, God knows we’ve tried. Yet long, I knew we’d be fine. So pour me a drink, oh love. Let’s split the night wide open. And we’ll see everything we can. Living in slow motion, motion, motion. So kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from the playgroI have loved you since we were eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. All I can s say that these arms were made for holding you. And I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. When we e eighteen. Oh Lord, when we were eighteen. Kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from the ground. I have loved you since we were eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. all I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you. And I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. nna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. Her light loud as as many ambulances. As it takes to save a savior, oh. She floats through the room on a big balloon. Some say, “She’s such ke.” That her love is made up. No, no, no, no. Let’s have another toast to the girl almighty. Let’s pray we stay young, stay made ghtning. Am I the only, only believer? There’s something happening here. The only, only believer. There’s something happening , I hope you feel what I’m feeling too. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d get down on my knees for you. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d down on my knees. I’d get down on my knees for you. Her light is as loud as as many ambulances. As it takes to save a savior, oh. floats through the room on a big balloon. Some say, “She’s such a fake,” that her love is made up. No, no, no, no. Let’s have anotoast to the girl almighty. Let’s pray we stay young, stay made of lightning Am I the only, only believer? There’s something happehere. The only, only believer. There’s something happening here, I hope you feel what I’m feeling too. I’d get down, I’d get down, et down on my knees for you. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d get down on my knees. I’d get down on my knees for you. I’m like a w on a wire. You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly, home. I’m like a boat on the water. You’re the raise on the waves that m my mind. Oh, every time. But I know in my heart You’re not a constant star. And, yeah, I let you use me from the day that we met. But I’m not done yet falling for your fool’s gold and I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met. But I don’t regret ng for your fool’s gold I’m the first to admit that I’m reckless I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me and ow in my heart you’re just a moving part. And, yeah, I let you use me from the day that we first met but I’m not done yet falling our fool’s gold. And I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met but I don’t regret falling for your fool’s gold. Yeah, I know love’s not real. That’s not the way it feels. That’s not the way you feel. And, yes, I let you use me from the day that we first met I’m not done yet falling for your fool’s gold and I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met but I don’t regret falling for fool’s gold. I got a heart and I got a soul. Believe me, I will use them both. We made a start, be it a false one I know. Baby, I don’t t to feel alone. So kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from the playground. I have loved since we were eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. All I can do is say that these s were made for holding you. I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. We took a chance, God knows we’ve d. Yet all along, I knew we’d be fine. So pour me a drink, oh love. Let’s split the night wide open. And we’ll see everything we can. ng love in slow motion, motion, motion. So kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from the ground. I have loved you since we were eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. All n do is say that these arms were made for holding you. And I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. When were eighteen. Oh Lord, when we were eighteen. Kiss me where I lay down. My hands pressed to your cheeks. A long way from playground. I have loved you since we were eighteen. Long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved and to be in love. all I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you. And I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. nna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. I wanna love like you made me feel. When we were eighteen. Her light loud as as many ambulances. As it takes to save a savior, oh. She floats through the room on a big balloon. Some say, “She’s such ke.” That her love is made up. No, no, no, no. Let’s have another toast to the girl almighty. Let’s pray we stay young, stay made ghtning. Am I the only, only believer? There’s something happening here. The only, only believer. There’s something happening , I hope you feel what I’m feeling too. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d get down on my knees for you. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d down on my knees. I’d get down on my knees for you. Her light is as loud as as many ambulances. As it takes to save a savior, oh. floats through the room on a big balloon. Some say, “She’s such a fake,” that her love is made up. No, no, no, no. Let’s have anotoast to the girl almighty. Let’s pray we stay young, stay made of lightning Am I the only, only believer? There’s something happehere. The only, only believer. There’s something happening here, I hope you feel what I’m feeling too. I’d get down, I’d get down, et down on my knees for you. I’d get down, I’d get down, I’d get down on my knees. I’d get down on my knees for you. I’m like a w on a wire. You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly, home. I’m like a boat on the water. You’re the raise on the waves that

by Gavin Bebb m my mind. Oh, every time. But I know in my heart You’re not a constant star. And, yeah, I let you use me from the day that we met. But I’m not done yet falling for your fool’s gold and I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met. But I don’t regret ng for your fool’s gold I’m the first to admit that I’m reckless I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me and ow in my heart you’re just a moving part. And, yeah, I let you use me from the day that we first met but I’m not done yet falling nmc magazine our fool’s gold. And I knew that you turned it on for everyone you met but I don’t regret falling for your fool’s gold. Yeah, I know

Conte Method

34

Daybreak

Doves at Sunrise

by Sage Atlas

by Susan Odgers

This morning, my day begins as it always has.

From our quilt-covered brass bed, I softly open my eyes. To my right, the tall, oak-framed horizontal window.

The end of the green and white striped Roman shade is slightly ajar. Through the narrow vertical opening, the sun slowly rises, revealing itself frame by frame, into a cloudless, spectacularly crisp blue sky.

The top of the next door neighbor`s statuesque eastern white pine sways.

Soon, oversized black crows perched atop our Victorian roof`s peak will caw to one another.

The smell of hazelnut coffee, brewing on the kitchen counter, fills the house.

Still on my back, eyes closed, I gently stretch, mentally taking inventory of where my body feels young, old, and somewhere in-between.

In my half-awake state, I listen for the dog stirring in her cushioned bed, her black Labrador retriever tail thumping against the worn wood floor. Olive, at 14 and a half, still wants out to patrol her yard.

Carefully, so as to not wake him, I place my hand on the small of my husband`s back, feeling, checking for his heartbeat. Then I reach over and trace his white gold wedding band with my index finger. Nearly four decades ago, we`d had “And I you” engraved on the inside of our rings.

Remaining in bed, but now more awake, I quietly, reflexively, repeat to myself the question, the one I asked every morning, during the first pandemic winter.

And again in spring.

Then summer, fall, and now winter again.

Is the world, the one we knew before, still really out there? pandemic

35

` Draíocht

by Anna Parsons

I remember the day I nearly lost you. The villagers walked us through lines of weeping willows with

clinking chains around our wrists under an overcast sky. The iron bit my skin and held my sorcery just out of reach, but the chains burned your Fae skin as if the iron was molten lava. It severed your ties with the Earth and its magic, which you had once wielded freely.

They called us witches. Perhaps that is true for me, but not you. I learned magic because I was

enthralled by it. You were born magical. You had no choice to make nor sin to commit. To them, your birth was criminal enough.

After days of yanking and rattling the iron bars of our cell in fruitless attempts to escape, we were

too weak to resist, too tired to speak. Our bare feet dragged over the cool dirt with each step through the rustling trees.

Your eyes, wide and green as starjade leaves, stared into my soul and screamed every word

your cracked lips couldn’t shape: Perhaps our lives are due to end, but our story will not. We’ll close

our eyes for the last time, then open them to someplace new. There, we will exist freely as sorceress and Fae, surrounded by the elements as the sun, moon, and stars beam upon us. No iron will cage our souls. False servants of the heavens will cease to hunt us. We will find peace.

The trees parted around the gallows. You tripped partway up the stairs, a man kicked you. Out of

rage I threw myself into him. He hardly flinched, then shoved me up after you.

We stood still. A crowd of spectators had gathered. They cheered hungrily with malice in their

eyes as the executioners encircled us. One of them, a bulky man with a bushy beard, stepped before us.

“Behold!” he bellowed to the crowd. “These wenches dared to practice the dark art of sorcery in our town, tarnishing us in the eyes of the heavens! As children of our lord, it is our sacred duty to cleanse the Earth of heathens such as them! Today, they pay for their crimes with their lives so our town may become pure once again!”

The crowd roared gleefully, pumping their fists skyward as if their divine king himself had de-

scended from the heavens and praised them. Any hope for salvation was blown away by their sheer volume. Our magic hadn’t hurt anyone, but none of them cared. All they saw in us was pure, unholy evil.

They shoved us under the ropes. I stumbled, and a hand caught me by the hair, yanking me upright.

My scalp burned like the blood simmering under my skin. The desolation in my heart morphed into fury.

These people dared call themselves holy when they were the sinners who hurt and killed. They were the ones who believed the child our magic saved should have died, trampled by horses over two-hundred times her size.

I looked at you. Your moonlight-silver hair, usually a wave of perfect curls, was a snarled mess that

twitched in the breeze. Your nails were cracked and broken from scratching at our cell. Your riverblos-

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som dress was shredded and bloodstained from our arrest, but you stood with confidence nonetheless.

As broken as your body may have been, your spirit was intact. You were still beautiful, whether fragmented or flawless. You were still my dearest love.

The sounds of the crowd fell away. The executioners strutting around us slowed. The sun emerged

from the clouds, warming the icy void in my chest. Stubborn wisps of magic slipped past the iron which had dampened my power for days, seeping into my cracked and bloody fingers. I closed my eyes and focused. I thought of you, your smile, and the day I first saw you. You danced with the swaying trees in the Faerie Forest. I was desperate for freedom so we could dance again, together this time.

The iron chains around my wrists snapped.

Magic flooded my body, so swift it stole my breath. It flooded my veins and pulsed under my skin,

warming my flesh like a cabin’s lazy fire. The rope around my neck burned away as the villagers’ excitement turned to horror. I caressed your bruised cheek, and your bindings turned to ash.

You lit up in a shimmering whirlwind beside my blazing inferno. Your eyes glowed a brilliant gold as

my vision was tinted by amber flames, and you hastened the breeze into a wicked wind. Our hair whipped wildly around our faces. Fury saturated our magic until it was too burdensome to restrain.

A blinding white light enveloped us and swallowed the world whole.

We woke in a rainbow forest--our forest. You sat up beside me, the two of us just as tousled as

we’d been on the gallows. We slumped together, drained of power. However, we were alone. Safe and free.

We danced together with the trees. In time, we stitched together what we’d done. We found the

small pieces of wreckage, all that remained of the town which had persecuted us. Broken wooden planks protruded from beneath crooked pastel roots and dangled from the canopies alongside the cracked church bell.

I remember the day I nearly lost you, and I feel our magic in my bones. I tenderly stroke the

rough bark of an azure tree, and smile when I spot you dancing. I lean against the trunk and gaze at the pinpricks of light swirling around you while fuchsia and lemon-yellow flowers sprout from the ground in your wake. It’s just like the day I first saw you, but this time, you catch me watching. You stop, smile, and hold out your hand.

I take it, and we dance together.

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by C Untitl ed

Perhaps our lives are due to end, but our story will not.

ourtn

ey Oc

kert

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Regal

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by Lexy Leonard nmc magazine

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usa

by Lexy Leonard pandemic

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his voice, coarse bronze and nickel cracked over airwaves its grain sparked against speakers a song that struck like a match to dry grass just for me to hear, a girl in the backseat of her father`s pick-up winding through mountains

Electric Dylan

by Natalie Preston

laid heavy by fog, coiled near a purple sky. each word repeated, formed around my lips, metallic the buzz of air before a storm. a folk-poet, singing of stories and streetcar visions. man lost in illusions and amphetamines disregarded by masses who once clamored for his words, those who`d only wanted what he`d given them before. his search, an endless cavalcade of steelcut strums and fevered static, burning for what he`d heard only in his mind, that thin, that wild, that mercury.

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Elements

by Liz Kennington

nmc magazine

QUARANTINE VIBES

by Lexy Leonard

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INSIDE LIFE

by Todd Manns

In my first year of teaching, I tacked a copy of Don-

ne`s “No Man Is an Island” to the board near my desk.

The poem`s more contemporary claim to fame, of course, comes from Hemingway`s novel, whose title is a construct from the closing lines.

Donne`s poem became part of my daily ideologi-

cal affirmation. Its message, a silent sermon each day to not lose the forest through the trees: that every one of us is undeniably tied each to the other, and we hold common an intrinsic value of humanity. In terms of interpretation and use, to be sure, Hemingway came at this poem from a different angle. Poetic meaning, after all, is a practice in perspective derivation to a certain extent.

The meter of the teaching experience has informed a

personal catechetical instruction that has consistently provided a clear understanding for me that the journey of life is a shared experience, and through inclusion, we better ourselves.

Antithetical to this concept is how COVID has

disrupted this very paradigm. It insidiously slithered its way into our lives and separated us physically, emotionally, and sadly, politically. This faceless foe inflicted upon us a need to reinterpret how we define community. Our safety and survival was suddenly contingent upon detaching one from another. Like a “narrow fellow in the grass,” COVID succeeded at disuniting us. While many are socially teth-

Humans are social creatures; we dance in the delight of real contact...

ered through electronic devices, in the final analysis these “connections” are merely superficial. Humans are social creatures; we dance in the delight of real contact; we need and thrive upon social symphony. Human touch feeds the

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soul, nourishes the spirit. From its start, COVID has waged an onslaught on this basic harmony, testing the boundaries of our resiliency.

As this incongruence spread throughout the world,

I knew at once it would necessitate a plan of survival. But what would I do? What steps would I take in my new, much smaller world? This puzzle would be one not easily solved; it would require lengths of self-imposed confinement. What would keep my pieces together? One can only do yoga with Adrienne and Netflix binge for so long.

Perched from older branches of the Oak tree, I

thought perhaps I held an advantaged view, having previously arrived at that point in life where the inevitable chronological erosion of youthful arrogance had been displaced by a reality-based clarity. Certainly, somewhere within my corridors of awareness, a kind of wisdom now surely existed. It was high time to tap into it. This pandemic would force a retreat from the people and things I loved to do. To say that I accepted this insight with grace would be to lie on a grand level.

by Cali Willson

I was scared. Alone and not alone. For once in my

lifetime, paradoxically, humanity was now indelibly linked by a single shared experience brought about by a pernicious pestilence. A novel Darkness was approaching, and survival within our communities would be determined by how well we could stay away from each other. Alone and not alone. The new world order.

So I created a survival plan. One comprised of an

Inside route and an Outside route.

Recalling past utterances of “I wish I had more

time to...” a list was compiled of things that I could do. Time, once a scarcity, was now in abundance. Evoking one of my father`s pithy pragmatisms--“WasteNot, Want Not”-I endeavored to not frivol away my precious time. I set daily goals: develop guitar skills, read more books, write pandemic

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more. I stuck to these goals with an indefatigable zeal that catapulted me forward and strengthened me in ways that simply could not have occurred were it not for time on hand. Each night, before falling asleep, I began thinking of the next day as an opportunity to learn this, to investigate that--the INSIDE completion of a novel, the study of the theoretical LIFE underpinnings of guitar music, listening to a podContinued cast, or the writing of a story. It built excitement

and momentum for the next day and became a salve against harms of sequestration.

Days and weeks passed. Months

passed. My inside route was working. Because I had Time. Great swaths of uninterrupted time

Viewing Singer`s ethical analogy within

the context of the pandemic, I saw many ponds springing up throughout the world, filled with many children who needed saving. But how could I help when I could not leave my own house?

Delving into “Effective Altruism”--a

concept often espoused by Singer--led me to my involvement with the GiveWell organization, an organization which assesses the effectiveness of charities. Their website impact calculator can determine the number of lives saved based on your monetary contribution. One recommended group, New Incentives, works on vaccine distribution in Nigeria within a Conditional Cash

created a new and wonderful learning landscape. Transfer (CCT) program.

As much as my limited world provided me A pandemic brought the world inside. In an escape, however, the horrors of the pandem-

doing so, it reinforced my belief that we are not

ic were but a newscast away. So many people

intended to “island” ourselves--that we must

in the world had suffered. Were suffering. Are

seek out pathways of connectivity back to each

suffering. A tinge of guilt grew and expanded as

other; therein lies the key to human resiliency.

a spectre at nightfall. Selfish preoccupation gave way to larger, global concerns about other people in other places. What about them? Am I not one of them?

Fate intervened to help create my Outside

route. It occurred while listening to a podcast on ethical philosophy involving Singer`s “Drowning Child” argument. An abbreviated version goes like this: If you are walking past a shallow pond and you notice a small child drowning in it, would you ruin your expensive clothing to rush into the pond to save the child? Singer`s assertion is that we are equally morally obligated to save that child as well as any child that might be continents away.

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My words became unreal, fake like every “We understand how you feel in these difficult times” as homework piled like bodies in the funeral homes, the last place you experienced before your body was nonrenewable.

by James Asava

Later the bleach scrubbed too hard to clean the sins of a virus that outlawed the touch of another.

My body didn`t know how introverted it was until the day handshakes and hugs became contraband.

Six feet consumed the Bodies that fever napped and eventually turned the beds into dirt.

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Untitled

by Matt Esckelson nmc magazine

by Levi Schriber

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happy; or, other quarantine musings

by Ann Hosler

[ hap-ee ] adj.

1. delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing. fearful, bored, and apathetic; overwhelmed

by the unknown. the planet morphed into something no one asked for.

2. characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy. days blur together. safe yet wary

of the outside world. isolated both externally and within; surrounded by love while wallowing in darkness.

3. favored by fortune; fortunate or lucky. money, luck, and health are privileges taken for granted.

splinters exist in the system: lack of medical insurance, evictions, permanent layoffs, underfunded unemployment or no living wage. is privilege fair when so many struggle, so many have died?

4. apt or felicitous, as actions, utterances, or ideas. stymied by inaction, from lack of desire or

motivation. too much freedom paralyzes the mind. creativity perishes.

5. obsessed by or quick to use the item indicated (e.g., trigger-happy). what will stop an invisible

enemy? does one lurk beneath the skin right now? (e.g., will we touch or see faces again? will life ever feel like we`re living?)

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nmc magazine

UNCERTAIN ANGLES

BY HANNAH CARR Characters: DARCY McConnell, sister to GWEN, age between 17 and 23 GWEN McConnell, sister to DARCY, age between 14 and 16 Setting: family room in the McConnell house Time: 2020 during the age of COVID-19 quarantine

Family room with television over fireplace and family photos on the mantle. Shelves for movies. Couch and chairs are worn and well-used. A few pillows and two blankets: one on the back of a chair, one over the arm of the couch.

Scene 1

At Rise: shaky camcorder, lots of zooming in and out on GWEN. At one point, it`s extremely close to the fibers on her sweats before zooming out again.

GWEN: (excited) Come on, DARCY, are we ready to go yet?

DARCY: (behind camera) Just a min. GWEN…

(Camera shakes its focus before steadying. It is set so that GWEN`s

surroundings are blurrier. At one point, a hand comes into view with a cloth

cleaning the lens.)

DARCY: (sports announcer voice) Alright, rolling in three, two, one…

(GWEN twirls around and faces the camera, hands spread wide, big grin. Camera

zooms out to full body.)

DARCY: (sports announcer voice) And here she is folks, the girl who`s stolen your hearts

and taken over the house show industry… (Drumroll sound effect from off-camera. Camera pandemic

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shakes implying DARCY is doing the drumroll herself. Drawn out.) GWWWEEENNNNN MCCCOONNNELL It`s another episode of "Uncertain Angles in Uncertain Times!" Last week, she guided us through the McConnell`s various yard implements.

This week she`s taking a look at their living room. Take it away, GWEN! GWEN: Thanks, DARCY, for that great introduction. Now, I know that last week I said we`d be working on the playhouse rather than reaching the actual house just yet, but...

(She gestures to something off-screen, and the camera pans over, changing the focus,

so the surroundings are clear. Viewers see a window with curtains pulled back revealing a dark sky and raindrops.) Mother Nature had other plans for us. Today we find ourselves in the McConnell living room! DARCY, if you please?

(Camera swings around in slow motion to give a panorama of the room. Camera

Uncertain Angles Continued

pans to Gwen.)

Now, living rooms are ripe for imagination. This one, in particular, has been home to DARCY`s Dragon Ranch of `07 and GWEN`s Elephant Café. A place with so much history has many angles to explore, so, fair warning, this might be a two-segment room.

(GWEN walks to the television. Camera zooms in and follows her, showing just

GWEN and the T.V.)

First things first, the T.V. might be considered the "glue" in most homes. As so many Nintendo commercials show us, it provides the means to bond over shows, or through games, and so much more. Family reunions are just so much better when there`s cute animated animals to diffuse any tension! (Camera bounces with the movement, and

GWEN points to the side of the screen where there are numerous input/output holes.

Close-up of a painted fingernail tapping against one hole labeled HDMI-5.) T.V.s also hold many secrets like this one. If you`d like, you can get out of the house and to the nearest Best Buy or order online to get an HDMI cable. It connects your laptop to your television. Just plug in here (intense tapping) and go to HDMI-5 via the input, and voila!

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(Camera zooms back out to show GWEN smiling next to the T.V.)

nmc magazine

Whatever is on your laptop screen is broadcasted through your T.V.! This can include Zooms if you`d rather see family and friends on the big screen instead of squinting at Nana`s homemade tattoo. You can also play movies attached to websites you can`t get on

your T.V., or watch pre-recorded lectures, or (disgusted) even enlarge homework assignments to grace the whole family with images of your class`s autopsy examples and guidelines.

DARCY: Oh, come off it, you were just as fascinated. Try this on for size. (DARCY throws

a blanket to GWEN who catches it, laughing.)

GWEN: And here folks, we have a... (unfolds the blanket to reveal the pattern of a wolf) My George, could it really be? Yes, it is! A settee family blanket. (GWEN pretends to

read the tag.) One of the `03 batch, I believe, typically found in Targets across the nation.

My, what a find. You know there was a whole pack of the-DARCY: (faux nervous voice of an underling addressing the boss) GWEN, the angles, remember?

Uncertain Angles Continued

GWEN: Right. This is "Uncertain Angles" not "History Possibilities"—that`s on Tuesdays.

(GWEN folds the blanket, and the camera follows her to the couch. She sits, draping the

blanket over one arm, like she`s showing off a fabric example.) Now, many have already realized the many angles of how blankets can be viewed, but we thought to do a recap as so many people seem to be losing their heads during quarantine. There`s the initial use for warmth, typically laying it over the body. Close behind that is favored Burrito, which made

its name via memes. That`s followed by The Cape style, favored by toddlers. (GWEN lays

the blanket across her lap.) One of the lesser-known uses for blankets includes protec-

tion from ghosts. (conspiratorial) That really does work—their ectoplasm gets caught in the

woven fibers if they try to go through it. Since you can`t see when it`s coated in ectoplasm,

you should wash your armo— (fake coughs) Blankets. You should wash your blankets often.

(pointed) Like your hands. My favorite use of blankets, though, may be… (GWEN twists

and rolls the blanket up.) as a weapon! (She whips the blanket out toward the camera.

DARCY stumbles back with a laugh.)

DARCY: (in good humor) Watch it! I promised mom we wouldn`t break anything.

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(GWEN reels the blanket in and folds it back up on her lap.)

GWEN: (laughing) Nothing works better than throwing a blanket at someone to slow them down and enable you to reach the last movie night brownie first.

DARCY: Wah-wah-wah. It`s a no-good, dirty trick that leads to nothing but bruised feelings Uncertain Angles Continued

and shins.

GWEN: All`s fair when the stores are running out of flour for said brownies. (She stands

from the couch.) Now, (exasperated) let`s move on before DARCY falls back into her grief.

DARCY: They were peanut butter! I love peanut butter! You landed me with no brownie and bruised shins!

GWEN: (ignoring her sister with a smile) Now, if you`ll follow meEND SCENE

Narcissus` Online Class

by Elsie Campbell

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nmc magazine

NEOWISE

by Caroline Schaefer-Hills

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The bass pounds, and I scream the lyrics.

Queue filled with many genres, Cage the Elephant, Bon Jovi.

My speed varies, fluctuating with the rhythm.

Each day, I drive this route, tracing the shores of Torch.

The trip meter rises on the dash, replacing the broken gauge.

At a certain time of day, amber light filters through the trees, warms my soul, melts the stress and anxiety, leaving it miles behind me, like slush that falls from my wheel wells.

I pass your stone, and think of the father-daughter dances when I would hide behind your legs as the chicken dance played.

I wish I could go back and make a fool of myself, flapping my arms to the beat.

Running on Empty

by Riley Kate Robinson

My best thinking happens in the car.

I take off a mask, different from the floral one I wear into the grocery store, which hides my feelings behind a smile only seen in my eyes.

I am honest with myself.

There is comfort being alone in those moments.

As the months have passed, I’ve become friends with myself, holding my own hand over the hills and empty back roads I wander, following my headlights into memories.

I pass your stone again, finding strength in the woman I have become.

In the rear-view mirror is the shadow of the girl who has lost, but up the road, is hope for the girl behind the wheel. pandemic

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Class of ‘21

by Shelby Bigelow

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MR. DJANGO FREEMAN

by John Greiner

Untitled

by Halie Karazim

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Early Mornings of July

by Anne-Marie Kabat

Part of me will always live in the early mornings of July on my family`s farm, with the dew from the

grass soaking into my shoes and the sunrise bursting over the horizon. For a two-week period every July, we harvest our sweet and tart cherries. As the tractors warm-up and rumble to life at 6 am, the other crew members and I always share knowing glances. That day will be filled with chasing orchard mice off the harvesting tarps, getting pelted by rogue cherries, and laughing at what the pranksters think is okay to put in the conveyor belt meant for harvested cherries.

The machinery we use to harvest is a goliath: a tractor attached to a long “rollout” trailer that holds

industrial tarps, a conveyor belt, and a half-ton metal cherry tank at the back, brimming with water. After the tarps are pulled out to become a carpet under each tree, the tree will be mechanically shaken.

Even as I write, I can hear the cherries bouncing as they hit the canvas tarps; I can smell their sweet

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County Kerry by Hannah Baker nmc magazine

stickiness in the humidity. My tasks are always focused on the back of the “rollout” trailer, running the conveyor belt after the cherry-covered tarps are pulled onto it. The cherries will end up in the metal tank, spritzing me with droplets as they hit the water`s surface. The new crew members always ask what the tennis racket I have is for, and I always promise that they will learn. They watch in amusement as I glide the racket along the waterline of the cherry tank, scooping up leaves and other debris and tossing it out.

Sometimes I will peer into the tank and stare at the cherries shifting around as the tractor moves.

I`ll distract myself from my aching feet. I`ll rejoice when a summer rain comes through. I`ll notice how lucky we are that the saplings we planted are leafing out. And when my mom, who`s run our family farm for two decades, tells me she`s never dreamt of retiring from this, I know she means it. I will be the same way.

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I have always had a sweet tooth, ever since I

was a little girl. I have really vivid memories of my dad bringing home a large box of my favorite cakes from an Arabian pastry shop when he returned from his business trips. My family and I would road trip to Detroit once or twice a year and managed to stock up on as many cakes or other kinds of pastries as we could because we can`t get these unique creations in Traverse City. American pastries are often so loaded with sugar that I would feel sick after a few bites. Do not get me wrong, I do like American-styled desserts, but something about the lightness of the spongy cake layers and frosting feels like a cotton candy cloud with each bite, making me want more. Eating something sweet

Fine Dining at Farhat Sweets

should be an enjoyable experience and make you feel satisfied, not have a sugar rush.

Walking into the Farhat Sweets pastry shop

is like the jewelry store version of Traverse City`s

frosting are displayed in columns and the golden glaze

Potter`s Bakery. Mini rectangular cakes with layers of

of baklavas sprinkled with pistachio crumbs glisten in the light behind the glass case like the inside of an Arabian gold shop. Cake flavors included pistachio, Lotus biscoff, Nutella, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, pineapple, and banana. My favorite dessert is the

by Aysha Chowdhury

chocolate mousse

Walking into the Farhat Swe ets pastry shop is like the jewelry stor e version of Traverse C ity`s Potter`s Bak ery.

cake because it has a hard chocolate shell that feels so satisfying to break into with a spoon. Larger cakes are in a corner; they are the size of SpongeBob`s head and the shape of a top

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baklavas in all sorts of shapes have been tightly packed together in a mahogany-colored box and stacked on top of each other against a wall for customers to pick up.

The red and white striped curtained rooftop hovering over the frozen yogurt pumps gives a classic 1950`s vibe.

The Farhat Sweets shop is owned by an Iraqi family and most of their employ-

ees are their daughters. I don`t know them well, but from observing their courteous behavior with customers, I can tell they are a good family. The last time I went to the shop I saw a little girl tugging her mother`s sleeve and begging for some type of dessert. The mother asked an employee in Arabic if they had a particular dessert, and the woman on the other end of the counter responded warmly as if they were family members. I am not a person who speaks Arabic but seeing the exchange of body language between the two women shows that this shop is a comfortable place for Arab natives of the town. Besides their beautifully crafted and decadent pastries, the welcoming environment of Arab culture is one of the things I admire about the place.

The high quality presentation of their cakes and packaging catches the eye. A glazed strawberry perfectly placed in the center of a mini cake will get my mouth drooling.

They put their cakes in a glossy, golden paper box. There was a week when my mom did not want to recycle a gold box because it looked aesthetically pleasing in our tan-colored kitchen. This was one of the few times she could feel boujee. I recently found out she keeps a secret stash of these gold boxes in one of our cupboards, which I am not surprised about.

I came to the Farhat Sweets shop another time after a rowing regatta. My

team did not win any races, but I had to make up for only eating a sandwich and drinking Gatorade during the seven hour competition. I definitely overloaded myself into a sugar coma by ordering a frozen yogurt and a custard crepe with Nutella and strawberries, but I did not care because I just wanted to treat myself after a hard race and a tough beginning to junior year. My dad is not the type of person to get very excited often, except for his daily cup of milk chai and his daughter`s accomplishments (a common characteristic for most Indian fathers), but I loved seeing his face light up when I gave him a piece of my Nutella crepe.

Since I was born in Detroit, the city holds a special place in my identity by

helping me stay connected to my rich Asian culture. The Farhat Sweet shop represents a diversity of cultures, which I was missing while growing up in Traverse City.

Eating Asian cuisine is one of the things that almost makes up for the time lost from not being able to spend time with extended family who live in Bangladesh. Every immigrant and children of immigrants has had to conform to American culture. Growing pandemic

61

up, I felt embarrassed to bring my rice and strong, spice-scented chicken for lunch at school because it looked different from the moist ham cubes the girl who sat next to me ate.

Later on, I learned that it is okay to be unique and different because someone else might Fine Dining at Farhat Sweets

like it, which is the reason the Arabian pastry shop is thriving as a business: people want to try something different. I would encourage anyone to try new flavors and have some surprising experiences in your taste buds.

Continued

The Piper Hotel

by Shelby Bigelow

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Stormy Serenity

by Holly Johnson

against regret

by Liam Strong

if you remove the bones from a carpenter ant you exile its body from its body. a thesis without a takeaway message is carbon dioxide. i`m taking us away from the point. the literal & the figurative. driving to the edge of the peninsula the closest we`ve been to the end of the world. i wanted to build the calluses on my feet again. like barnacles. you stepped on sea glass. beach glass? it`s not called lake glass. i know it`s where we are, where we`ve ended up, where your blood is leaving your body, where your blood doesn`t know where to go so it burrows into the sand hoping it will grow another body. illness doesn`t depart the body as much as venom is borne in the mouth of the viper. it`s not you getting worse. it`s what ails you. we`re made of distance & you`re becoming further from yourself. when we`re sick we want to be healthy. when we`re healthy we think about regret. the merganser under the sunbleached log had half a wing. it is perfect. it is so so so perfect. remember when you broke your arm skiing? the closest you`ve been to flight. a horizon is your mainstream movie lingo for undiscovered discoveries. fine. go diving out there. around every curve of the earth is more mystery between us. there`s more knowledge in the speartip of your elbow than where the sun secludes itself at night. you told me once that the world doesn`t care about us. maybe you`re right, though. catch a fish, release a fish, so it goes. not everything is taken away from us. but don`t go to the river. Hemingway`s ghost is there & he doesn`t want a damn to do with us. let the fisherman be a fisherman. let your eyes just be eyes. let the lake be an ocean. let your limping foot be an emblazoned trophy. we don`t have to upturn the stones we come across to see what`s underneath. sometimes there`s just nothing. & that`s more than good enough. pandemic

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Untitled

by Cobe Lund

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nmc magazine

Our friendship a thriving oak, we stood taller because of it The bond we planted to stretch on forever, like the giant sequoias of California Others set their sights on the oak`s crown, determined

BLOOMING SEASON

by Keaton Wilder

to block out the sun But our roots held fast In pointing out the oak`s beautyits mighty boughs and graceful leavesI unwittingly crafted a glass house in which you did not feel at home Not long after, the gales of erosion drought

over-pruned branches

burst in I said I love you And that`s forever, for always But I was in love with the soaring heights our oak predicted to reach So I made myself small and committed, like an acorn to its branch Even so, two hands cannot carry this much water

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Humpty Dumpty

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Don`t Be Hayseed

by Randi Upton

You always knew you talked differently than everyone else. You handled the chuckles as people

asked you to say certain words. Moving from the Blue Ridge Mountains in West Virginia to the high desert of Southern California, dragging your southern drawl behind you all the way, meant your voice stood out among all the other teens at the high school.

It never bothered you, the way people mocked you with a hillbilly accent, asked if you had relations

with cousins, or forced stereotypes on you that came from years of Hollywood capitalizing on people who could not speak for themselves.

Then one day, you are hanging out with some friends after school. You are about to graduate, a year

early and top of your class. You have a new job at the bistro in town as a server, and you use your southern charm on the customers to get more tips. Your friend Crystal, born and raised in California, asks you where you are working now.

“Giovanni`s, the Italian place,” you say, pronouncing Italian with a long I.

Crystal snaps. “For fuck`s sake, it`s ITalian, IT. Not I-talian. Fuck, you are supposed to be smart

but you sound like an idiot and honestly, I`m tired of defending you.”

You are struck like you have been slapped. Everyone is quiet. You never knew you pronounced

the word wrong--everyone around you had said it that way your whole life. Was a whole region of people wrong? You have no idea what to say, how to respond. All you can do is mutter, “Alright, sorry.”

Another friend, thankfully, distracts the crew with talk about an upcoming party, but you are off in

your own world, away from them. You try to ignore your hurt feelings and embarrassment. After a short period has passed, you claim you have a shift at that IT-talian restaurant and get into your beat-up Corolla to leave. On the road to your small studio apartment, you try to swallow the tears that threaten to fall. Eventually, you pull over to get a hold of yourself and realize you are close to the library, your sanctuary.

You step inside the air conditioned building. The smell of old books and the sound of clicking key-

boards wash away the hurt and shame as you try to remember if you have books to return and if you can check anything out. Your fingertips brush the book spines as you walk the aisles, mind wandering. After some time you reach the audiobook section, one place with no path worn down by your footsteps. You check out the shelves of cassettes and CDs of recorded books, looking for something different, maybe a transcript of some old speeches.

You reach a section and stop. The shelf in front of you is

labeled Drama Students. There is a whole shelf just for ac-

cents and dialects. Shit, look at that. Stacks of CDs labeled by dialect coaches for practicing accents. Bostonian. Cajun.

Creole. Midwestern. Your hand stops over Non-Regional

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You never knew you pronounced the word wrong--everyone around you had said it that way your whole life. nmc magazine

American, followed by New England and Trans-Atlantic. Picking up the box of five CDs, you hurry to check out with the librarian before you talk yourself out of it.

You fly home and get your Discman out, putting the first CD in

and pulling large headphones over your head. Your legs hang over the edge of the bed as you listen intently, like this man telling you how to

You are thinking with a lag, talking lower and longer, trying to not trip over your words as they fall across the Potomac River.

speak will solve every problem in your life. You barely listen to his introduction, his qualifications, his anecdotes. Hurry up and get to it! Finally, he tells you what you are doing wrong. How you hold your tongue, the set of your teeth on vowels. You begin practicing along with him on the words you are worst at.

Git. G-I-T. G-et. Get.

Warsh. W-ar-sh. W-ash. Wash.

Wileflour. Wil-flo-ur. Wi-ld-flo-wer. Wild-flower. Wildflower.

You find yourself speaking real low, mouth forming an O on almost every syllable. This is difficult,

learnin` to talk right. Listening to the CDs for hours becomes a ritual. Any time you are not at work or at school, this man teaches you to be better. In the car, the kitchen, the bathroom. Crick. Cr-ick. Cr-ee-k.

Creek. You are thinking with a lag, talking lower and longer, trying to not trip over your words as they fall across the Potomac River. Far. F-ar. F-ire. Fire.

Proud of your achievements to talk normal, you continue to suppress the need to say y`all and

remember to add a g at the end of words. Your southern mountain folk language becomin` more and more proper, and less like the kin you grew up with. You stop using yonder when giving directions, and no longer tell people they live up the holler.

The stories you grew up with begin to fade.

Neighborhood abolitionist John Brown is long forgotten though he was idolized in your parts. The Battle of Blair Mountain, a deadly second civil war where hundreds of coal miners fought and died for the right to unionize, is not taught by outsiders as important history. Granpa Dempsey layin` in that bed at the old farmhouse as he coughed an ear-shattering death rattle through black lung while rats skittered in the attic overhead. All becomin` lyrical tones forgotten along with the accent you so loathe.

You finally return the CDs to the library on

The Night by Brandee Sasser-Drone

their due date, still practicing in your car as you head to work.

It-tal-lian. It-talian. Italian. pandemic

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dandelion hereafter

by Andrea Grabowski resistance movements call for creating an entire new world, systemic tearing down and building up that is too vast to believe in sometimes. power desires us numb and satisfied. oppression seductively whispers the stories of individual success, shiny magazine pages, cash thrown at diamonds without a question as to where they were mined. we must be happy with this. it`s as good as it will ever get. genocide is renamed adventure. despicable men are lauded as heroes, their faces in our wallets, green paper that rules the world. the open wound of the past is called “the good ole days.” a woman millionaire: they say evolution has reached its peak. no matter if she has stepped on her sisters` necks to get there. but what if there were no more millionaires?

I know how safe my life has been. I have to face that privilege. the things I wish for in my own life are small.

I dream of holding my friends and flying to see my sisters without fear of illness. for the fear and melancholy that exhausts my body to not be dismissed as an inconvenience to the workday. for my desires or lack thereof to be something I can wear aloud not just in this so-called country, but everywhere. if a roof over my head did not seem to hedge on being luxurious, could I live in my own place, writing all day? when I enter the publishing world, I do not have too many fears of how I will be treated. and that is why we must fight page and knuckle for it to be equitable and caring to every author who was never listened to. so that celebrations of moments like the first trans novel to hit the bestseller list are obsolete because that`s all there ever is now: endless shelves of rainbow spines written by the voices the system has silenced for ages. what would it take for that to happen? see how the pattern goes? all tiny, safe dreams are forever interconnected to big ones. what would it take to end all this death forever? no, I do not mean a wellspring of immortality. I mean guns, I mean greed, I mean prison walls. I mean the fists of men who live in houses with roofs of gold when our pockets are empty. I mean pipelines seeping fatal oil into life-giving water. blue-badge-coming for you, colonizer death. what scares me is what scares the nation-state: imagination. brainstorming what could be and moving to

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make it real. no corners cut. nothing too big. no band-aids. severing the deepest root of the wound forever. I am frightened because it will take time. it will take fighting. it will take letting go of every spiderweb legacy of oppression. even if, to some of us, the webs look pretty on the outside. even if, to some of us, the webs serve us very well indeed.

dandolion hereafter Continued

I want James`s or Johanna`s children to ask me one day, “what, Aunt Andrea, are you serious?! people used to be measured by productivity and money?” maybe by the time their grandkids are our age, capitalism will be forgotten like emperors are today. I want to walk on local trails cared for by the Odawa, not a recreation administration who doesn`t even know whose land we`re on. even the internet, borders laid by 19th century white men push us apart -- I want Sarah to send me films I don`t have to joke about needing a passport to see. so what would it take to make this happen? collapse of the colonial rule, Indigenous sovereignty. envision care. a soft hand. dandelions growing over jail cells, choking the iron, great green leaves and sunshine flowers to brew for tea. paint dripping all across bank vaults. dream of sweetgrass, wampum beads, land, water, held once again by the hands who know how sacred they are. children playing carefree under peach trees where cotton once grew, their mothers watching, Black skin cradled by sunbeams, resting at last, as their ancestors never could. picture chosen family trading a suit for a dress or a skirt for jeans and never getting a second look. none of us touched without consent. everywhere we turn, a safe face, our pain respected, a hot bowl of stew, a good night`s sleep.

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Untitled by Elsie Campbell nmc magazine

they feel so far away, these big dreams, continental and world ones, that I`ve learned from those who have been picturing and studying and enacting them for far longer than I have. why is everything Emma and Marsha and Audre fought for still pushed aside as “too much”? to imagine a world beyond the carceral state, beyond colonialism and capitalism, racism and misogyny, greed and hunger, feels like plotting a novel. but I am tired of “too much.” we can`t keep living like this, in all this death. precisely because it

Outdoor Memories by Molly Tank

feels impossible and scary is why we have to make it real.

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dandolion hereafter Continued

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My alarm goes off at 07:45 and I wake to a

bright Monday morning. Birds chirp outside and the last bit of powdered snow is melting away as I return from a run with my dog, the sun illuminating both of our faces. The promise of a blossoming spring day fades when I see an email from my college detailing the ever-changing situation of monitoring a global disease: COVID-19. This newfound academic uncertainty clouds my mind and builds upon my growing unease, yet the Earth still turns. As I leave my apartment, the glittering refraction of sun off the snow catches my

356 Days Later

eye, momentarily clearing the cloudiness in my head. I respire with hopeful tenacity and head down to campus to meet my friend for our physics lecture; today we are discussing collisions of momentum and applied force.

That was on March 9th and 356 days have now

passed. Somehow I reminisce about that day as if the sun had not yet set. But an eternity has passed. Four

college announced the suspension of in person class-

days later, a state of emergency was declared, and the

es as a quarantine began.

The news was irrefutably damaging.

How was

by Avery

this real? I

Underwood

my anxious

could not help

The world was caught in a collision of infectious force and pathological momentum

animation at the fact that life was turning into my physics lesson.

The world was caught in a collision of infectious force and pathological momentum from months of neglected preparedness and scientific advice, and people`s livelihoods were the collateral damage. I had lost my

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chance to study internationally and was furloughed indefinitely from my new job, my mother and two younger sisters six hours away from me; I went 9 months without seeing them. I wondered how everything was going to be okay. If it even could be okay.

Optimistically, the plan was to resume normal instruction at the end of April, but

futile social distancing executed that hope and ensued the cataclysm of functioning linear time as its conception vanished into perpetuity. Every second started to blur together into a single autonomous moment, with only physical memories to keep track of the days where I struggled to get by; my only constant being my canine companion. Most of my disillusion came when reality succumbed to pandemic fears, political unrest, fraudulent science, and immense death as the world fought to restore its health amidst a volatile Coronavirus. Even in silence, the sound of news headlines can be heard in the faint background of existence or in my thoughts as I try to sleep.

My anxiety storms on even with a vaccine underway and my ability to endure dims.

Some days are better than others. I refrain from letting intrusive thoughts command my surrender to the lack of purpose and hope and structure I feel as this pandemic drags on.

I think about all the loss I have suffered, and the loss the world has suffered. I am grateful for the glimpse of normality I sustain in my schooling and everyday life. A year of seasons change, and I realize there are some certainties. I see outside again the glistening light on the snow as the sun sets tonight. Tomorrow is the 1st of March, a Monday, and I will start my day at 07:45 and go for a run with my dog. I will prepare for my chemistry Zoom lecture and call my mom to check in on her. I just pray not to wake up to another email.

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untitled

by emma macpherson

Scan Here For Audio Recordings

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Untitled

by Sage Johnston

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Literary Staff

Design Staff

NMC Magazine Staff Spring 2021

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S R E T T LE

S R O T I D E E H T FROM

A big thank yo u to all who s ubmit to our you apprecia magazine and te the heart a to those who n d w o read it! We h rk that went in rough time s ope to th ince March is semester’s 2 p 0 u 2 b li 0 c , a a ti o n these pages d we hope th n. It’s been a will serve as e art and wor a d r s e e m n in compassed der of both w our ability to within hat people e hang in there n d u . r I e s d in a c n d e r a e s ly hope that th you as they h a testament to ave been for ese pieces w me during th il l b e c ome a friend ese times. B for est of health!

Sincerely, Hannah Car r, Literary C o-Editor

the visual art ll a t u o k c e h then to c r way. issions and m b u s y r unity sent ou a r m te m li o c e th C w e at the NM e time to revi rought nd diversity th a y When it cam it tiv a arkness or b e d r c to e in th p y e e b d d rs dove l design s amaze pieces, I wa scripts, write cils, or digita n to e p , ys h a s s u s r e l tb it. h a pain to persona r created wit escape from e n th a e From poems s h e d W vi . o e r c urfa ic and p bling to the s ts the pandem ic world. p e d laughter bub th o b ges h us and the a it p w e k s r e o th w r in u t e ar ring yo programs, th action of sha ve a r b e th k o f time all who to Thank you to nse stretch o te d n a g n lo er, ampus, a ighteous ang C closed c r f M o

N s e e z c la in b s ar ve seen ueen over a ye ersal. We ha tion of comm iv a n ll u te d s n n It has now b a o l c a c a both lo as been ers as f and chaos e magazine h th h it w g ht to its read g in li k filled with grie t r a o th f W o . n e io ss gs som nts of compa I hope it brin d n a , e firefly mome m r fo bility and accounta nity, creativity, uilding well. intention of b e th h it w t u b , d ce were t a half-hearte ow things on h p e to c c n a r tu to e g r n to eever havi arge forward ilding a dand intention of n u e b th d n h Let us not ch it a , w g , n e ti r befo g, pain tter than ever to more writin ’s e r e H . s something be g u future h in. Here’s to a g a l” a m r o “n r. lion hereafte

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Sincerely, o-Editor i, Literary C k s w o b a r G Andrea

nmc magazine

LETTERS FROM THE ED ITORS ave sses who g la c 2 y h p a r Typog g for bringnd present n a ti t s in a r p p f a o r g ts tuden to Alle gazine and you to the s a k m n a e th th l t ia u c o rough A very spe nts to use th fo l a in ig r o nd us unique a onts e to life.

Student F ing this issu LITCH -BITCH G r inline -Blacklette -Cherry umlin -Chud Gr ont -Crystal F cript -Custom S -Ellora’s t -Flow Fon -Fractured d -Fragmente

-Frenchies -Ichabod rry -Kara Scu -Libra t -Margare pired -Moth Ins ro -Multiply P old Muture M tica -Not Helve sh -PNW Fre

legance -Roaring E eo -Sharp G oblin Deco -Space G r -Starflowe t Shame -The Grea -Tixy -Umbrelic -Wayword -Wired ia -Zeldaman

ue ougar Opaq

d- #70 C Paper Use

To all those in volved with th e making of th pieces subm is semester’s itted, I offer magazine, fro m y g r m Zoom me e a test thanks. Th azine. All of th etings to the is is a very spe e art and lite cial edition o rature piece hard time tha f the NMC s were crea t none of us ted with stren Magc o u g ld th a h n a d endurance ve predicted the darkness . I hope thes during a for all. Stay e pieces can safe. Stay ca b e seen as a lm. Stay hea light in lthy. And don ’t fo rg et to wear yo Sincerely, ur mask!

Shelby Bige low, Design Editor

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A Final Note In the beginning of March 2020, the literary staff and I went to a writer’s conference in San Antonio, Texas. COVID was just a whisper; we used hand sanitizer and extra measures to be safe.

We got back into town on a weekend and the following Monday, everything was shutting down. People were suddenly laid off and schools were closing. The past year has witnessed massive change all over the country. People are actually able to work from home, universal basic income doesn’t sound too far off, and we are discovering more about ourselves and our families.

The past year has forced people to show their true colors. Some gave everything they had to mutual aid networks, taking care of their communities, while others screamed and yelled because they were asked to wear a mask in a store. Riots erupted throughout the summer over racial injustice and systemic racism, and Black Lives Matter became more of a household name. The election was more emotional and stressful than the last, for both sides of the political spectrum as people fought with fists over counting votes. The past year brought out the best in some, and the worst in others.

We are all doing the best we can right now. Taking classes online is difficult; having to do most of the magazine work online proved to be a labyrinth. The design and literary teams both worked together to create a beautiful piece of art: Pandemic, a theme without a theme, showcasing the humanity and creativity of people who feel like they are crumbling under pressure of isolation. During a period of time when we catch ourselves mumbling under our breath as we swallow the lump in our throat over another neighbor announced dead, let yourself create whatever you feel is speaking to you.

As our Lord and Savior Mr. Rogers said, “Look for the helpers. There will always be people helping.” Continue to look for the helpers as you try to make sense of this world, but also be the helper. Don’t stand by and hope someone else does the work that needs to be done. Get out there and help to the best of your ability.

When you need help yourself, there is no shame in reaching out. Grand Traverse County has a 211 service for food, housing, and utility assistance. If you are having thoughts of hurting yourself, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. Veterans press 1 after dialing. Locally, you can call the 24-hour Crisis Line of the Northern Lakes Community Mental Health Authority at 1-833-295-0616, or NMC students can receive services at the Student Life office by calling, (231) 995-1118.

It has been an honor to be the Editor-in-Chief during the most difficult year for the NMC Magazine, for the prior issue of Bootleg as well. As we move on to the next issue, I hope for everyone to stay safe, healthy, and happy as we continue to shuffle on to the next day.

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Randi Upton

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Dot Dot Dot Ericka Emerson

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