Penchant11

THE

PENCHANT FRACTURED GLASS by anika bansal Now, when I look at myself, all I see are broken shards of fractured glass, shards of a broken person

by kay krachenfels

SUGAR DROPS by catherine you

MOSAIC

THE LURKER

the penchant Irvington | creative writing club EDITOR IN CHIEF Tianhui (Lily) Yang CONTENT EDITORS Catherine You Athena Xue LAYOUT EDITORS Anikait Rao Sushrut Bokar COVER CREDITS Desiree Ho CONTENT Felicia Mo Anika Bansal Irene Geng Chaiya Chatkara Tammy Shen Catherine You Sahityasree Subramanian Kaashvi Agnihotri Shreya Venkat

LAYOUT Sanjana Shinde Sushrut Borkar Meher Mehta Anikait Rao

Irvington High School’s Creative Writing Club is a student-run, interest-based club dedicated to providing a welcoming environment for writers of all kinds to convene and share their ideas outside of an academic setting. Members get a taste of publication through submitting to The Penchant, our online literary magazine. Meanwhile, monthly prompts, in-club competitions, and major writing contests are provided to allow members to explore the implications of writing, improve on their own techniques, and receive feedback from their fellow peers. Overall, our collective mission is to enable the students of Irvington to write what they wish and have their voices heard.

All images used are either submitted to us or public domain, CC0 photos. All rights remain reserved to their original owners, for those that have specified such guidelines.

Creative Commons Photos: Cover, 10: retrieved from Pixabay.

To learn more about us, go to penchantlitmagblog.wordpress.com/.

To see our submission guidelines, click on the “Submit To” tab on the menu bar, or follow us on facebook @penchantlitmag.

5

june 2018

TABLE OF

CONTENTS

21

14 mosaic

15

23

18

1 FEATURED 6| Fractured Glass

By Anika Bansal “Now, when I look at myself, all I see are broken shards of fractured glass, shards of a broken person.”

11| The Lurker

By Kay Krachenfels “Walt, oblivious to the incident, wouldn’t know until it was too late.“

21| Sugar Drops

By Catherine You “Wretched laughter marking time.

Besotted raindrops, plinking chimes.”

PROSE 1| Cyclops

by Shamita Bhattacharjee 6| Fractured Glass

by Anika Bansal 7| Bombing of Pearl Harbor: 1941

by Lahari Karmuchi 9| A Crumbling Pillar

by Chandu Garapty, Sachi Goel, Kanan Prashar, and Vishali Vallioor 11| The Lurker

by Kay Krachenfels 14| Hazy Wonders

by Tammy Shen 15| Earth’s Creations

by Meher Mehta 16| Forgetting Light

by Nicole Xie

POETRY 17| Echoes

by Anika Bansal 18| Falling Out of Love

by Verb 19| Earth Day

by Ayushi Batwara 20| Under the Cherry Blossoms

By Anousha Sannat

21| Sugar Drops

by Catherine You 22| Hearts

by Srithija S. 23| The Candle in the Darkness

by Why 24| Oblivion

By Anika Bansal 25| U. S. Trade Haikus

by Richard Cheng 26| The Forgotten Path

by Neha Patel 27| Friends

by Aanvi Koolwal

PROSE

CYCLOPS by shamita bhattacharjee

“You.” Punch.

“Stupid.”

Kick.

“Stuck-up.”

Lift.

“Spoiled.”

Throw.

“Brat!”

Thud.

1

Chacha08. 2011.

BHATTACHARJEE A few hours later, Jazmin got up from her seat and said, “It’s getting late. We should sleep.”

It went without saying that I would sleep here tonight, since there was no way I could go home like this. My maids would just freak out and send me to the hospital and I do not need them to find out I was hurt that badly. They would only want to hurt me more. My parents were never home either, since they were always off working or on business trips. That was the only reason why we were so rich. A lot of people think I’m spoiled because of this, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I got a My vision went blurry as I heard small amount of money every month their annoying laughs fade while they that was only enough to give me three walked away in their annoyingly loud high meals a day. I couldn’t ever go shopping, heels. I was surrounded by darkness when go to an arcade, or any fun stuff like that. the panic started to set in. It felt like the That’s why I was always at Jazmin’s walls of the dumpster started closing in house. She was the only person I could around me and the trash beneath me have fun with. She knew everything started to sink in due to my weight. I about me, and I knew everything about closed my eyes as I slowly lost her. We were inseparable. consciousness. Why did it always have to The next morning, Jazmin end like this? shook me awake and we got ready to go … to school. Jazmin didn’t even bother I woke up to warm sunlight telling me to stay home from school, shining on my face and the sweet smell of because she already knew what my jasmine and cherry blossoms with a tint of answer would be. I had to go, or they orange. There was only one place that would take it as a sign of defeat, and I could give this warm feeling, Jazmin’s wasn’t going down that easily. After I house. I noticed that she had patched me had showered and brushed my teeth, I up again perfectly, bandages covering my put on some clothes. I basically had my serious wounds and simple Band-Aids on own closet here since I slept here more the others. often that I did at home. I covered up my “Oh, you’re awake,” Jazmin said, wounds with makeup so I wouldn’t look walking into the room carrying a tray. like a walking zombie and took off my “Today was pretty bad, huh.” bandages so they weren’t so obvious.

“Yeah...” is all I said.

Soon, we both left the house “Sorry I wasn’t there. I had-” and Jazmin drove us to school. When we “Basketball practice, I know. It’s reached there, both got out of the car okay,” I interrupted. and started walking towards the school.

“They really do know everything We were having a light conversation, about you, even the claustrophobia,” laughing every now and then, and just Jazmin replied, her voice dripping in enjoying ourselves in general. Obviously, sympathy. the fun didn’t last. The moment we “I guess so. They basically stalk stepped foot onto the courtyard at the me,” I answered nonchalantly. front of the school, a girl turned her Jazmin set the tray down on the head our way. table next to the bed I was laying on and “Oh well, look who’s here, the sat down on a chair on the other side of the great Andrea Rose herself. Are you okay? room. She threw me a book from the shelf You don’t look too well,” the girl said beside her and pulled one out for herself with a sarcastic tone. too. Jazmin and I were polar opposites, but “Why hello Ivy Thorn. I’m the books were the one thing we shared. doing just peachy,” I replied with just as She was athletic, pretty, and popular while much sarcasm.

I was slow, ugly, and despised by “I heard what happened everybody. However, she never let yesterday. How are you now?” she anything get in the way of our friendship, inquired, not caring at all about my and we always made it work out somehow. condition.

We have for over a decade. We sat in “Oh I’m fine, but thank you for silence, with the only sound being the light your concern,” I responded trying to clink of my spoon as I ate the mac and sound grateful, but miserably failing. cheese she gave me, and the occasional flipping of pages.

“You sure are being awfully thoughtful considering you’re the one who beat me up yesterday,” I continued, my innocent tone turning vicious.

“Whatever do you mean?” she said innocently.

“Stop pretending, Poison Ivy. The whole school knows what you do,” I spat.

“Well it’s not like it’s the first time,” she said matter-of-factly. “Nor will it be the last. After all, you are just a Cyclops.”

With that, she and her gang got up and sashayed away, looking like they owned the place. I hated Ivy so much.

She was the worst person in the world.

I’ve had lots of experience with people judging me or making fun of my one eye, but she’s taken it to the next level. All she does is beat me up and taunt me about some stupid scar on my right eye that happens to prevent me from seeing through that eye. I swear her life’s purpose is to make my life as miserable as hers.

Fuming, I walked toward my first class as I heard the warning bell ring with Jazmin following close behind me. As I stepped into the room, I heard a chorus of whispers coming from the students. I ignored it, thinking it was the usual gossip about my eye, and went to my seat at the back of the class. I sat down, and dropped my backpack next to my desk while Jazmin did the same next to me.

As soon as I sat down, Jazmin turned to me and started talking.

“So, did you hear about the new kid?” she asked me excitedly.

“Uh, no. Who would I hear it from anyways? I have no friends remember?” I said unfazed. “Completely unlike you.”

“Oh yeah that’s right,” she said quickly. “So anyways, I heard he’s a super cute guy who’s a model, and that he’s super nice. He’s also supposedly super rich and owns a mansion and like 5 cars!”

“You mean like me?” I questioned unemotionally.

“Yeah! And the best part is that he’s transferring to our class!” Jazmin exclaimed, sounding like a 5 year old little girl.

Oh, I thought to myself. That would explain the extra whispering.

At that moment, the teacher, a ferocious young lady named Mrs. Rantle (whom everyone called Rattlesnake), came in and pounded on her desk.

“Alright, everybody shut your

JUN 2018||The penchant|2

CYCLOPS mouths!” she yelled. Everyone suddenly got quiet and rushed to their desks. “As you all probably know, we have a new student today. His name is Zeke Griffin.

Zeke, would you like to tell the class a little bit about yourself?”

Mrs. Rantle gestured with her right hand towards a boy standing in front of the door. He had wavy, dark brown hair that was messily styled without a parting. He had olive skin and blue-green eyes with a golden ring surrounding his pupil. He was wearing black Converse, skinny jeans, and a white shirt with a black bomber jacket on top.

His left ear also had a piercing with a gold earring hanging from it. This guy was typical model material and he was dripping in money from head to toe.

“Sure,” the boy responded. “I’m Zeke Griffin. I’m 17 years old and I transferred here from Prince High. I do work as a model, but I don’t want to be treated differently because of it. I hope I can have a good year at this school.”

Everyone immediately started cheering and clapping, girls and guys alike. I just sat there, rolling my eye (not eyes) because it was easy to see he was going to be treated like royalty here. Zeke was standing at the front, nervously laughing probably because he could tell it too. Mrs. Rantle eventually got the class to settle down and she started glancing around the classroom. Everybody knew she was looking for a place for Zeke to sit, and they all wanted to sit next to him.

Nobody dared voice out their thoughts, for fear that Mrs. Rantle would deliberately not put Zeke next to them if they did. I didn’t really care where he sat.

In fact, I kind of didn’t want him to sit near me because then he would start asking questions. That’s when I noticed Mrs. Rantle looking in my direction and the rest of the class shooting me death glares. It was also when I noticed that the only empty seat was in front of me. I internally groaned and cursed my classmates for not wanting to sit near me.

Suddenly, Jazmin raised her hand exclaimed without waiting to be called on, “Mrs. Rantle, I’ve been having trouble seeing the board while sitting back here, so can I move up one row?”

Mrs. Rantle sighed and gestured her to move.

Jazmin quickly grabbed her stuff and moved in front of me, flashing me a smirk along the way. Then, I finally understood what she was doing. By moving forward, Jazmin made the only seat left be the one next to mine. Because all the people in my class were “disgusted” by my eye, Jazmin’s and my desk were sectioned off from the rest of the class, so there was a little moat of

3

empty space between our desks and everyone else’s. This meant that if Zeke sat there, both of us would be farther from the rest of her class.

“This is for your own good,” she whispered to me as she passed by me. “I already ship it.”

I simply responded with, “I hate you so much. I will pay you back for this.”

After a minute or so, Mrs. Rantle decided that there was no other choice but to have Zeke sit next to me. Pointing her finger to the empty desk she said, “Zeke, go ahead and sit at that desk in the back.”

I mentally facepalmed as Zeke walked toward the seat and sat down.

Mrs. Rantle started the lesson, and almost everyone’s attention turned back towards the board. During the lesson, while I was taking notes, out of nowhere Zeke started talking to me.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked me.

“Andrea. Andrea Rose,” I replied without taking my eyes off of my notebook.

“Cool name,” he commented.

“Yours is pretty cool too,” I said, still not looking at him.

There was an awkward silence between us for a few minutes before he asked again, “Why does your hair always cover half your face?”

I had gotten this question many, many times before in my life. I didn’t want him to know about my eye just yet, so I answered him with my default reply, “It’s just a thing I do.” It was actually to cover my eye so random kids on the street wouldn’t get freaked out when I went out in public. I knew Zeke would find out soon about my eye, since Ivy or someone else would tell him, but I was going to delay it as much as possible. I did not need an Ivy 2.0 in my life.

For the rest of the class, Zeke would keep trying to make small talk with me to “get to know me more”, but I never looked at him. I was trying to get him to lose interest, but he was just so persistent. I didn’t want more people to get mad at me because they thought I was “stealing” Zeke, so I tried to make as less contact as possible with him. I only needed to have enough conversation with him so that I wouldn’t be rude, but not enough for him to know anything about me. When the bell finally rang, I packed up my stuff and ran out of the class faster than lightning. Once I was out, I ran to my next class. I didn’t even bother waiting for Jazmin. I just didn’t want to deal with anyone right now.

The rest of the day went by pretty fast. I had two more classes with Zeke, but I used the same strategy of

I just didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. giving him laconic answers whenever he asked me a question. It started feeling like an interrogation, but I pushed through it. At lunch, Zeke tried to sit with me, but luckily Ivy snatched him away before he could. That was the one and only time I had ever been happy that Ivy showed up. After school, I walked home with Jazmin since she didn’t have practice today. I thought that today I could finally escape Poison Ivy and her minions, but it seems I was wrong. One of Jazmin’s friends found us and separated Jazmin from me somehow. I kept walking to Jazmin’s house since I had a feeling they would take a while. I guessed the girl was with Ivy, but I wasn’t too sure. My suspicions were later confirmed when one of Ivy’s goons pounced at me when I passed by an alley. She tackled me and dragged me into the dark alleyway.

“Hey Andrea. Interesting day at school today, huh?” Ivy said while her gang pinned me down on the ground.

“Yep,” I replied sarcastically. “So fun. Yay.” “What do you think of Zeke?” she asked with a smug look on her face.

“I don’t have any opinions about him,” I said calmly.

“That’s not what it looked like during first period,” she scoffed, anger slowly clouding her face. “You even got Jazmin to move seats just so you could sit next to him. You are so desperate.”

“Two things: one, Jazmin moved because she wanted to, and two, you are way more desperate than me. Like seriously, have you looked in the mirror lately? Your a complete Nicki Minaj wannabe,” I replied, blatantly insulting her.

“Why you!” she exclaimed before kicking me hard in the stomach. Her long high heels dug deep into my skin and made me cough up blood.

She continued to kick and punch

BHATTACHARJEE me for what felt like another half hour or so. I wanted to run away, but Ivy’s minions were holding me down like I was nailed to the ground. It was seven against one, I had no chance. I kept taking the hits, never making a single sound. I was not going to give Poison Ivy the satisfaction of hearing me scream. After a while, she stopped.

“That’s enough girls,” she said, signalling her gang to get off me. “We can’t kill her. She has to suffer more.” She and her goons bursted into laughter while looking at my pathetic self lying on the ground. Then, they simply sashayed away like nothing had happened. I somehow stood up and walked back to Jazmin’s house. Luckily, the alley was only a few minutes away, so it wasn’t too hard.

When I entered Jazmin’s house, we went through the same routine as yesterday: Jazmin profusely apologizing, eating dinner, reading, and then sleeping.

This was my life for the next month or so.

Poison Ivy would always somehow get Jazmin away from me and then beat me up for supposedly trying to “steal” her “future boyfriend”. Eventually, Zeke found out about my eye, but he didn’t stop talking to me like most other people do after learning about it. He only started talking to me more. Everyday he would try to sit with me at lunch, and Ivy would get mad, and Jazmin would fix me.

Eventually, for some reason, Jazmin let him sit with us. I kept warning her not to, but she still went ahead and did it. Now Zeke was sitting with us everyday and Poison Ivy was just getting more and more mad at me.

Then one day, Zeke asked me a really strange question at lunch. He asked me, ”Have you ever seen a model in action?” I obviously replied no, since there was no way I ever would have. He then replied with another question, “I have a photoshoot today and we’re allowed to bring a visitor. Do you want to come to my modeling agency after school?”

I was really surprised when he asked me, and so was Jazmin. Her jaw literally dropped, her mouth was wide open. Lifting her chin up to close her mouth, I answered, “Sorry, I’m busy today.”

“No you aren’t!” Jazmin cut in.

“Yeah I am. I have to, uh,” I glanced at Jazmin with a look pleading for help, but she did nothing. “I have to walk Jazmin home.”

Jazmin immediately responded with, “No you don’t, I’ll walk with my other friends. And we don’t have any homework, so don’t use that as an excuse either. You’re completely free! Zeke, Andrea would love to go with you.”

“Jaz!” I whisper-shouted as I

shot her a death glare.

She simply flashed me a huge smile and ran away as the bell rang.

“Saved by the bell!” she yelled as she left.

Zeke was also about to leave, but he turned around and said, “I’ll meet you in the courtyard.” Then, he turned back around and walked away. I groaned with annoyance before hurrying on to my next class too.

After school, I went to the courtyard and saw Zeke leaning against a sleek black limo in the parking lot. He was surrounded by a crowd of girls trying to get his attention, but when he saw me, he smiled and waved towards me. “Andie!

Over here!” he yelled, loud enough so that everybody turned towards me.

God, did he really have to do that? I thought to myself. And when did he start calling me Andie? Jazmin is the only one who calls me that!

I quickly ran towards him and through the crowd of people. “What are you doing?” I hissed. “Why are you yelling across the street? They can hear you in Texas!”

He chuckled and said, “Sorry. I was just excited and I wanted you to hear me. Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve never been more ready.

Let’s get out of here,” I said, panicking, wanting to get out of the awkward situation.

We both got into the car and the driver started driving away. We sat across each other and talked a little during the drive. Zeke tried to describe his modeling agency a little and how he was so happy I agreed to come since this was the only day he was allowed to take a visitor. I was pretty surprised that he chose to take me to his agency, but it made me feel a little special and acknowledged. It was a nice feeling.

After a while, the driver told us we had reached the building, so we stepped out of the limo. I was confronted with a large, luxurious building, like none I had ever seen before. We immediately walked inside as the driver drove away.

The moment I set foot inside, I was hit with the busy environment of the area.

There were directors shouting instructions while makeup artists and hair stylists bustled about, getting the models ready. Zeke was immediately swept away and I was left alone. I sat on a random bench and took in my surroundings. There was a tense but relaxed atmosphere, and everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun.

After a few minutes, the models were ready to start. They began the photoshoot right away. Each model took their own pictures, posing in any way the directors told them to. The theme for this

Her long high heels dug deep into my skin and made me cough up blood.

JUN 2018||The penchant|4

PROSE photoshoot seemed to be pirates on a pirate ship. Soon, it was Zeke’s turn. He came out in a pirate costume with a hook in one hand and a sword in the other. I had to admit, he didn’t look bad. Between poses, he would occasionally glance at me and give me a quick grin. I wondered why he kept looking at me. It was a little odd.

After all the models had taken their individual pictures, it was time for them to take group and pair pictures.

When it was Zeke’s turn again, a man ran up to the director and whispered something in his ear that made him scream “What!”. This made everyone extremely worried, including me. I asked one of the makeup artists what was wrong, and she said that the model that was supposed to go with Zeke had broken her leg so she couldn’t model. They couldn’t use another model since everyone else was already paired up, and they couldn’t have repeats.

Then suddenly, as the director was anxiously looking around the building, trying to think of a solution, his eyes landed on me. He looked at me for a second and then gestured me to come towards him. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was waving his hand at me, or at somebody near me. I pointed to myself with a questioning look and he nodded his head. Confused, I walked towards him slowly. Once I was in front of him, he asked me who I was. I simply told him my name and that I was a visitor for Zeke. He then asked me if I was his girlfriend which I responded no to and said I was just his friend.

The director continued asking me questions about me like my age, grade, school, family, etc. The whole time, Zeke was staring at us cluelessly as the director bombarded me with questions. I felt like I had committed a crime and a police officer was interrogating my life choices. Eventually, he asked me if I was a model. I replied with a no and he seemed to look a little happier.

“We’re short on models right now, so is it possible that you could be a substitute, just for today?” the director pleaded. “You’ll be paid.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” I apologized.

“I have a huge scar on one eye and I’m blind through it.” I didn’t like telling strangers about my eye, but in this situation, it had to be done.

“It’s okay. You’ll be a pirate so you can have an eye patch covering that eye,” the director responded. “Please? I’ll pay you a lot.”

I saw the desperate look on the man’s face and I finally agreed. Besides, I could really do with some extra money

5

BHATTACHARJEE right about now. The director explained the situation to everyone in the room and everything seemed to go back to normal instantly. A few makeup artists and stylists took me away to get me into the costume. The costume felt a little uncomfortable and the skirt was way too short for my taste, but I didn’t really have much of a choice. When I looked in the mirror, after everything was done, I couldn’t even recognize myself. I never knew I could be so beautiful.

We quickly took the rest of the photos and the photoshoot ended. I was praised a lot by a bunch of people I didn’t know. I wasn’t really sure how to feel, so I just went and took the costume and all the makeup off. When we got out of the building, Zeke started praising me about my modeling too. He was acting really strange while he was complimenting me though.

“You looked nice in that costume,” he said, his face turning bright red.

“Are you okay? Your face is really red? Are you sick?” I asked feeling his forehead with the palm of my hand to check if he had a fever.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Come on, let’s go,” he said, covering his face as his driver pulled up in front of us.

We got in and his driver dropped me off at Jaz’s house. As soon as I entered, she asked me a flurry of questions about what happened, so I just told her everything.

“Ooh, he was totally blushing at the end,” Jaz said with a smug smirk on her face.

“No he wasn’t. He must have had a fever from overworking himself or something,” I replied denying her statement.

“You just won’t accept it,” she said giggling.

“Oh my god, I swear Jaz,” I said exasperated.

The next day, after school, Zeke came up to me before I left. “Hey Andie,” he said walking up to me.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“I got a call from my modeling agency. They said they wanted you to work for them,” he told me calmly.

“Okay sure,” I said not paying attention to what he was saying. “Wait…

What?!”

To be continued

FRACTURED by anika bansal

GLASS

A name is something that defines a person. Gives them a place, an identity in life. My parents wanted a name for a daughter that was strong, one that could make her own way in life. One that meant power, bravery, splendour.

The name of someone who looks into the mirror and knows exactly who she is.

With such a name comes expectations, burdens, standards that can never be reached. It is a lot of weight for the shoulders of one person to bear, too much weight for just one. It is so easy for that one pair of shoulders to crumble under the pressure, and the weight of all those expectations. When I look into a mirror, I don’t know who I am. Why me?

Why was this burden placed on me by the people that are supposed to love me? I can’t carry it. I’m not brave enough, strong enough to carry it, or do anything that makes a difference. I hate it. I want to smash that stupid mirror into a thousand pieces.

Now, when I look at myself, all I see are broken shards of fractured glass, shards of a broken person.

Now, when I look at myself, all I see are broken shards of fractured glass, shards of a broken person. I want to tear those standards apart with my bare hands, for every report card with a 3.89 GPA I brought home that should have been a 4.0, for every crease and line in my parents’ disappointed faces. I wonder, if I had been named differently, would I still be this person? Would I still be just fractured glass? And, just maybe, I would.

The realization is earth-shattering. It is a person’s experiences, and the people that shape their lives, that make them who they are. My parents gave me this name to empower me, not to put me down.

They made me who I am today. All their unreachable standards don’t define me. I do. I get to decide who I am going to be, and when I look at myself, I can choose to see more than just a cracked mirror. I may be just fractured glass. But, put the fragments together, and you get a person.

You get me.

A name is something that defines a person. Gives them a place in life, an identity.

My name defines me as someone who is strong. Someone relentless and ruthless, someone invincible. I know this. I know now who I am supposed to be. But I don’t know how to be that person yet. I know that I have been hurt many times, have been let down and judged for being myself, and I also know that I haven’t let that change me. I used to think that getting my feelings hurt, or crying about something, meant that I was weak.

I thought that showing that I was affected by something meant I was pathetic. And it wasn’t my fault. This was how I grew up, trained to think that everyone in this world wanted to hurt me, and so I couldn’t let them get to me. I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything, any emotions at all. Obviously, that strategy was set up to fail. Because feeling emotions isn’t a weakness. It’s what makes you human.

There have been moments when I wanted to give up, when I yearned to just accept defeat because I’m not good enough, but regardless of how painful it is, I keep going. Some call it self-destructive and pig-headed, and perhaps it is. But, I’m starting to realize that this is what true strength is.

Persisting, even when your world has fallen apart and you can barely stand to live. You keep going.

And that is who I am. I’m a person that feels emotion, and someone resilient, someone who doesn’t give up.

I’ve struggled to accept myself, and always wanted to be someone who was strong enough to actually make a difference. Now, looking into that cracked mirror, and staring at those broken fragments, I know. I know. The person I’ve been searching for my whole life?

She’s staring right back at me.

PROSE

BOMBING OF PEARL HARBOR: 1941 by lahari karmuchi

NOAA Ocean Exploration & Research. 2016.

7

“Melody, Jack, come downstairs for breakfast,” Mrs. Longburn, their mother, called out to them, pausing at the bottom of the staircase with her hands on her hips, an exasperated look in her eyes.

“Coming, mother,” two voices said simultaneously, and the kids made their way downstairs.

Mrs. Longburn glanced at Mr. Longburn while the kids ate their breakfast. There was a mutual understanding in their stare.

“Kids, we have news for you,” Mr. Longburn began, looking up from his breakfast, his usually confident stare betraying a sign of uncertainty and nervousness. Melody and Jack looked up, looking a little interested and a little bored at the same time. Mrs. Longburn took up the role as the announcer. “We are going to a foreign country for a job interview. It’s for your dad. As it is currently a dangerous time, we decided that it might be best for you kids to stay in Mr. and Mrs. Patterson’s house while we are on our journey.”

Melody was horrified. “No!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat in shock. ‘You can’t just leave us and go! It’s just not fair!” With that exclamation, she stormed out of the room in fury. Their parents looked at Jack. “She’s right.

We’re going with you,” Jack said, glaring at his parents. HeJack left the room before their parents could answer.

Melody and Jack stayed in their rooms until it was dinner time. They soon came down because they were starving. At the dinner table, Mr. Longburn took up the conversation. “ Kids, we really don’t want to leave you. However, we don’t have a choice. It’s better for fewer people to travel.” He sighed.

“Fine,” the kids soon grumbled, scowling at the floor.

Mr. and Mrs. Longburn soon left for Paris the next day, while the kids went to stay with their neighbors.

Their neighbors had three kids: the twins, Tammy and Tanya, and William, their younger brother.

KARMUCHI However, Melody and Jack felt strangely alone, even though they were surrounded by their close friends.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Patterson questioned the children, when they were strangely quiet and refused to eat their food, claiming to be full. “Nothing, Mrs. Patterson,” they mumbled, looking down at their feet, their eyes downcast. Before Mrs. Patterson could answer, Mr. Patterson boomed, “If you miss your family, just remember that they will probably miss you too. If they can control their desire to be with you two and go to Paris for this job interview, then you can just as well control your desire to be with them. On the bright side, you know that you are not alone and that we will always be with you.”

Melody and Jack pretended to cheer up to make the Pattersons feel good, even though they terribly missed their parents and were homesick.

The next day, the family went to Pearl Harbor for some work business. The kids wandered off into the woods nearby. For fun, the boys dug a hole and everyone went into it. Suddenly, they heard a loud boom and rocks and trees went flying into the air! They heard loud cries and screams. After a few minutes, the

children climbed out of the hole, frightened. They were heartbroken to discover that Mr. and Mrs. Patterson had died, along with other close relations.

Tammy, Tanya, and William burst out crying inconsolably when they saw their dead parents. They cried with sadness at the death of their loved ones’ and with anger at the nation that had brought upon this catastrophe.

Melody and Jack cried along with them.

Soon, a sound of spinning motors reached the kids, “What do we do?” Jack whispered, trembling as he clutched his sister’s hand. “We sneak past them with the background trees as our shelter. We then go on a ship that would take us to the mainland and find a way of contacting your parents,” Tanya said, all the while gripping the branch at her left. The rest of the small party agreed to the plan.

“What about the other island inhabitants?” William questioned. “We just have to hope for the best,” Tammy surprisingly snapped, a dark, haunted look in her eyes. “It is necessary, in order to survive.” No one argued with her.

They managed to go pretty far before they were caught. Their ship was about to leave in a few minutes. Warning the

young boys to stay out of the way, the girls seized some sticks from the ground and fought for their lives. A small fight ensued. In the confusion, an officer stealthily drew a knife and raised it above his head, planning to run it through Melody, who had her back turned to him. Just as the knife was about to touch her, Tanya tackled the officer from behind. Just then, the sound of running motors reached them.“No! More reinforcements! Just what we needed,” Tammy screamed sarcastically, throwing her head up at the sky as if thinking, ‘Why me!’ The girls dealt one last blow to the last officer and ran with the boys to the ship, across shallow water and land, to reach the island where their ship lay.

News of the bombing of Pearl Harbor had reached the president of the country. No one and no place was safe anymore. The US was now officially involved in World War II. “I wonder how we will contact our parents,” Melody said. “Maybe your dad got a job as the president,” Tammy joked, turning around to look at the view.

Little did she know how true her words would be.

2016.

JUN 2018||The penchant|8

PROSE

A CRUMBLING

PILLAR Native bees are experiencing a dramatic decline in population

by chandu garapty sachi goel kanan prashar vishali vallioor 9

2008.

GARAPTY, GOEL, PRASHAR, VALLIOR

Honey bees occupy the limelight when it comes to insect pollinators in America. However, they are actually of European origin (“Intro to Native”). Bees native to America are very different from honey bees. Most native species do not live in colonies and burrow in either wood or the ground instead of building hives (“Intro to Native”). In addition, native bees are extremely important pollinators. They pollinate crops, and pollination is essential to the production of most fruits, nuts, and vegetables (“Fact Sheet”). They have evolved alongside native plants and are better suited to pollinating them than honey bees (“Intro to Native”). When bees pollinate native plants, they are helping these plants reproduce and survive. The animals that depend on the plants for food will also survive. In this way, they support our local ecosystems (Schwartz).

Buzzing into the Bay Area, bees pollinate alfalfa (Kremen et al), which is considered to be an outstanding ingredient for cattle fodder (Jennings). One or both of cattle and milk are one of the top three agricultural products for five out of nine Bay Area counties (Kurhi). Bees also pollinate nitrogen-depleting grasses and nitrogen-fixing legumes, which help balance the nitrogen in the soil (Weinberg).

Nitrogen balance is integral to the health of crops (Rodriguez), such as the wine grapes that are so important to the Napa and Sonoma counties (Kurhi).

Unfortunately, native bees are experiencing a dramatic decline in population. Last year, the Center for Biological Diversity analyzed the populations of the known North American and Hawaiian native bee species (Burd and Kopec). They found that barely a third of the 4,337 known species had enough population data on them to effectively assess their population status. Of the 1,437 species they were able to assess, the Center concluded that almost 25 percent were “imperiled and at increasing risk of extinction” (Burd and Kopec). The Center stated that the species they were unable to assess were likely to also be declining or at risk of extinction (Burd and Kopec).

The major causes of the native bee decline are global warming, neonicotinoids, and habitat loss. The warmer temperatures caused by global warming cause flowers to bloom early, while native bees are still in hibernation (Fessenden). By the time native bees come out of hibernation, the plants are mature to be pollinated, and the bees lose their food source (Fessenden). The next cause is neonicotinoids. Neonicotinoids are a type of water-soluble pesticide (“What Is a”). Farmers coat seeds with neonicotinoids, and as the seed takes in water to grow into a plant, it takes the neonicotinoids into its tissues as well (“What Is a”). The neonicotinoids protect the plant from harmful pests. However, neonicotinoid residue in the plants’ nectar and pollen harms native bees that come into contact with it (Aubrey). The third cause is habitat loss. Habitat loss happens when dirt is paved over and rotten wood and plants are removed to make way for construction (Roberts). This removes habitat for both ground-burrowing and wood-burrowing native bee and reduces their food source, plants, as well (“Habitat Fragmentation”).

In the Bay Area, land development and the California drought are also factors of native bee decline. Natural areas are often developed into farmland that grows only one crop, like wine grapes (Roberts).

However, the native bees that inhabit this area do not get the nutrients they need from this one plant, just like a human does not

get the nutrients they need by just eating ice cream. These bees often die of malnutrition (Roberts). Due to the recent drought, flowers produced less nectar (Bennett). This meant that the native bees had less food, which led to even steeper population decline.

If native bee decline continues at its current rates, they will go extinct.

The plants that depend on native bees for reproduction will go extinct. If plants go extinct, then most herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores will probably also go extinct. In short, the majority of food chains may collapse and mass extinction could ensue. A native bee extinction could also have a massive negative effect on humans, since bees pollinate plants that feed humans and livestock.

Native bees are a pillar of society—a pillar that is crumbling. They have been helping us for as long as humans have existed. If we let this pillar fall, we will fall too. We must save bees, if only to save ourselves.

Anyone can combat native bee decline. First, actively reduce your carbon footprint to combat global warming. Second, petition at all levels of government for increased restrictions on neonicotinoids and other efforts to support native bees. In Fremont, you can voice your concerns to the Environmental Sustainability commission at their quarterly meetings (fremont.gov/1477/ Environmental-Sustainability-Commiss ion). You can find your California State Senate and Assembly Representatives by entering your address at findyourrep.legislature.ca.gov/. Learn how to comment on EPA regulations at www.epa.gov/laws-regulations/get-invo lved-epa- regulations#comment. Third, you can make your garden more bee-friendly. Plant native plants and don’t use pesticides. Avoid using mulch, as that prevents carpenter bees from burrowing in the ground and leave the ground bare. You can also place bee boxes, blocks of wood with hollows drilled into them, in your garden from wood-burrowing bees. For more information, we highly recommend the resources on the Xerces Society’s website (xerces.org/).

JUN 2018||The penchant|10

PROSE

THE LURKER by kay krachenfels

Walt heard his stomach grumbling for the third time that evening and finally decided to leave the comforting embrace of his soft plaid armchair and the mind-numbing computer screen. Sighing, he flung the door to his room open, ignoring the loud bang it made as it crashed against the wall behind him. He absentmindedly made his way over to the stairs and down to the kitchen, trying to calculate how many more bosses he would have to defeat in Revenge Ultimate VII before he would be able to buy the shield he wanted. Each boss dropped a certain amount of money, and soon he would have enough for the oval-shaped shield in navy blue, emblazoned with small turquoise diamonds that would twinkle like stars with every movement of his avatar. As he attempted to calculate the costs in his head, Walt forgot that there was one more step. His foot reached open air instead of solid ground, and Walt nearly tripped onto the floor.

11

Heart beating erratically and pulsating quicker in his chest than it had before Walt almost fell, he made a mental note to watch his step the next time he went downstairs. But this would probably be forgotten when he returned to his game and engrossed himself in fighting the next boss.

Suddenly, for a moment, Walt almost felt like he was about to fall again.

Strange. He didn’t think there were any windows open for a strong gust of wind to blow through. He was also pretty sure that it was currently calm outside, though he supposed that with his headphones on, he’d probably be unable to hear wind anyway. Wind wasn’t usually strong enough to push people over, right?

While Walt had seen quite enough on the Internet to conclude that a tornado might have such an effect, no tornadoes had ever hit the state of Washington. Even a gentle breeze that would do more than rustle a few leaves and send the grass dancing was rare,

especially now that winter had passed. Walt shook his head to himself, chastising his brain for even considering such blasphemous ideas. Since when had he started thinking this way? It was probably just the anticipation of facing the next boss in his game, who, coincidentally, bore the name of Twister.

Twister’s moves involved sending swirling wind at the player, effectively slowing them down. Just thinking about him whirled Walt’s train of thought down a new path of trying to come up with tactics that would allow him to annihilate Twister in the first round.

Walt’s stomach made another harsh rumbling sound, which was an adamant reminder to check the fridge and cabinets for anything he could quickly make that didn’t involve cooking.

It wasn’t that he disliked cooking. He just really, really, wanted to buy that cool shield that he had been saving up to get for weeks. Yanking the refrigerator doors open with unnecessary zeal, Walt blankly

Hodan, George.

KRACHENFELS

stared at the sparsely-stocked shelves. There were a few tomatoes and a head of lettuce at the bottom. Maybe he could make a sandwich out of that. There was also...premium organic extra-firm tofu. Walt frowned. He hadn’t even realized that he had stuff like that in his fridge. Walt wasn’t living with anyone else, which meant that only he could have bought the tofu, but he was unable to recall ever doing such a thing. He picked up the tofu and stared at it, puzzling over how it had ended up in his possession.

Meanwhile, the cold clamminess of the tofu’s extended stay in the fridge sent chills zipping up Walt’s spine.

Or, maybe that was what Walt wanted to believe. Maybe he was only shivering because of the coldness of the object in his hand. Maybe the only thing worth his concern was the open fridge.

But as much as he wanted to laugh at the ridiculous item in his fridge, Walt’s jaws clamped, rendering him incapable of making any sound at all. The chills he felt

just as well could have been from the jarring unexpectedness of the tofu’s appearance, as if out of thin air.

Still unsettled, Walt slowly returned to the current task at hand. He reluctantly picked out the least pitiful tomato and the lonely head of lettuce from the bottom ledge. Glancing back up to the top shelf of the fridge, Walt was relieved to find that he still had mayonnaise, which he knew would be piled onto his sandwich in generous amounts, just because he enjoyed it so much. After nestling the mayonnaise bottle on top of the other food already piled in his arms, Walt peered into the cabinets next to the fridge and snagged a loaf of honey wheat bread, his favorite.

The loud, electronic trill of his phone crackled into existence, filling the air with its repetitive, insistent ringing.

Allowing the yet-to-be-assembled sandwich to spill onto the cutting board, Walt hurriedly rushed to the home phone and picked it up before its ringing became any more obnoxious.

“Hello?” Walt asked, faking friendliness, and wondered why he had even bothered to pick up the phone in the first place. Though he tried to mask his irritation, it was clear that he didn’t enjoy conversations.

Needless to say, Walt supposed he was lucky when the caller didn’t respond. At first, Walt thought it was just a wrong number who’d hung up when they realized their mistake. However, when the telltale beep failed to grace his ears, Walt almost put down the phone anyway.

But he didn’t.

Because there was an faint noise filtering through from the other end of the phone. Straining his ear to hear more, Walt realized that barely-audible static was the sound of someone breathing.

Nothing else. Just...soft breathing. The airy tones slipped and slid around him,

Walt almost put down the phone anyway.

But he didn’t.

circling up to his head and numbing his brain. Indistinguishable murmurs encompassed his body, making his blood run cold. Though his thoughts were now muddled, the urge to put the phone back filled Walt more strongly than ever before.

But he didn’t.

Something compelled Walt to keep listening, perhaps because a small part of him still felt curious about the whole thing. The sensation of almost falling earlier, the abnormality of the tofu in his fridge, the steady breathing coming from the very phone he was holding—Walt suspected these events were connected, and he wanted to know how. But as the phone pressed heavily against his ear, as the seconds ticked away, one by one, Walt felt something very wrong about all this. He couldn’t specifically pinpoint why, but something felt off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Walt’s gaze was slowly drawn to the window. It was dark outside, and Walt’s attention fell on the blinds, yet to be closed; theoretically, anyone could see him. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to see, but felt relief wash over him when he failed to find unblinking eyes following his every step on the other side of the window Deciding he had had enough paranoia, Walt resolutely ended the call, or what little of one there had been. He proceeded to close not only the set of blinds in front of him, but every set in the house, turning on each light as he moved from room to room.

No, Walt wasn’t really scared of the dark. But he far was more frightened than he let himself believe. And being alone at that moment did not seem reassuring at all. Walt glanced at the phone nestled into his palm like it had made its home there. His fingers were visibly trembling. Hadn’t he just put the phone back on its stand? He could’ve sworn he had. Yet here it was, staring him back in the face like a silent, malicious entity. A bit lightheaded, Walt shoved the phone onto the table next to him as if it were a disease.

Swallowing hard, Walt refocused: He had to satisfy his stomach.

Once he was back in the kitchen, Walt pulled out a knife from the drawer beneath his cutting board and began to slice the tomato, but his movements were rushed and the slices uneven. He wanted to make this sandwich as quickly as possible so he could go back upstairs.

And the reason he wanted to go back up into his room was no longer to play his game. His room would feel safer and more secure than the kitchen, where knives, forks, and other pointy objects lay threateningly in the drawers.

JUN 2018||The penchant|12

PROSE Even the way he placed his tomato slices on top of the lettuce made it seem as if the food was looking up at him with empty, hollow, tomato-red eyes.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know had built up inside him, Walt rushed back up the stairs, sandwich and plate clutched in a vice-like grip. As he reached the top of the stairwell, he felt a small breeze rustle the front of his shirt, but it was not nearly strong enough to send him tumbling back down the stairs.

Too late, Walt registered that he had closed the blinds without bothering to check whether or not any of the windows themselves had actually been open. He doubted any were, as he normally left them closed, but the unsettling breeze was making him second-guess himself.

Then, when he finally pushed the door open to his room, the warm and welcoming lights inside abruptly flickered once. As the lights flickered, Walt’s heart almost stopped.

Please, no…Walt pleaded in his head as if he expected a voice to reply.

Seriously, why did everything have to happen tonight? He was probably going get a heart attack the next time something like that occured. Walt was on the verge of ducking under the comforting blankets, pulling them over his head, and calling it a night. Why hadn’t he opted for a dorm like most of the other college students? At least he wouldn’t be freaking out alone this late at night if he had chosen to live with roommates. He did have neighbors at least, but Walt didn’t want to come off as crazy by asking if they had felt strange breezes and telling them he thought someone was watching him.

Walt glanced at his computer screen and saw his avatar in all its glory.

In Revenge Ultimate VII, he was wearing the most protective armor possible and he bore powerful damage-dealing weapons. But his shield was lacking. It barely served its defensive purpose, and it was an unsightly rectangle of wood, with a simple silver cross over the center. Walt decided he would just stay up one more hour… beat Twister… and hopefully have enough money for the magnificent navy blue shield he wanted. Then he could sleep, and forget about tonight.

So Walt placed his plate on his desk and plopped into the chair sitting in front of his desktop computer, its velvet arms wrapping around him as Walt sunk deeper into it. In stark contrast to how it had felt before Walt’s trip downstairs, however, the chair now felt suffocating.

He didn’t know why he didn’t just call it quits right then and there. Well, he could have easily done so.

But he didn’t.

Even as the arms seemed to

13

Videogame Photography.

2016. close tighter around him, expanding in space, Walt still stayed into his chair. He tentatively took a bite of his meager meal and resumed the game, now committed to defeating the next boss. Even now, Walt could have easily backed out.

Despite the prospect of getting an awesome new item, it would be easy to press pause again. Walt curled one hand around his mouse and placed the other on the keyboard, already moving his avatar closer to the enemy, Twister, in his game.

The settings button peered at Walt from the corner of the screen. From the settings menu he would be able to pause the game and finish the fight tomorrow, and he was tempted to do so.

But he didn’t.

He still didn’t click the button.

His character faced Twister now, and Walt readied himself for an intense battle. There was no backing out anymore. He had to win this. Walt immersed himself in Revenge Ultimate VII and clicked frantically, dodging his enemy’s movements and making sure nothing went unnoticed.

But there was something that had gone unnoticed. Walt just didn’t know.

As Walt glared at the screen and growled a curse at his avatar, wishing he had been able to buy a better shield before facing Twister, something outside his attention grew increasingly imminent.

An ominous shadow loomed behind him, growing closer and closer.

Then the lights went out—not just for a second this time. They stayed out, and Walt’s computer blacked out as well.

It was a power outage, or so it appeared.

Walt groaned loudly, fear forgotten in his frustration. “I almost beat him! Now I have to redo that entire stage!” Walt glowered at the screen, muttering to himself. Or so he believed.

But he wasn’t alone. Earlier panic from the blackouts was temporarily forgotten as Walt could only think of the sparkling deep-blue shield that had been just in reach moments ago.

The lights turned back on.

“Okay. Phew. Thankfully that was quick.” Walt’s computer restarted, and his fingers drummed impatiently on the keyboard as he waited for the startup animation to finish so he could type in his password.

Little did he know, something had almost happened to him that night.

But in the moments while the house had been completely dark, the mysterious shadow and the figure who cast it had left. It had been a perfect

KRACHENFELS opportunity for them. They could have struck in the darkness. Maybe they had even been the one to cause the lights to briefly go out.

Yet no further move was made. Why?

Walt, oblivious to the incident, wouldn’t know until it was too late.

Waseem, Umar. 2016.

HAZY WONDERS by tammy shen These were meant to help me live.

We were created to help others and were stuck in life-sized test tubes for most of our lives. The caretakers said it was all for the greater good of humanity. That by sacrificing a few people, a whole nation could be saved.

But what about us? Our dreams, ripped away, all for the greater good?

When we first arrived at the facility, we were given shots to rid ourselves of our memories.

But I remember. Each day brings another myriad of shots and another set of needles. The world was dying from the plague, and we were the cures. This was only what they told us. Some of my friends were ecstatic, knowing that they were the heroes of our generation. Humanity would continue to thrive, all thanks to us.

What they didn’t know was that the world was perfectly healthy before we had been sent in. Animals and humans lived in harmony. A big bubble was formed, protecting us from any harmful objects from the unknown. The plague didn’t exist, and most diseases weren’t even deadly.

So what happened? I was riding the bus home after school, and blacked out.

When I woke up, I saw many other teenagers arranged in a line to get a certain shot. “It’s nothing to worry about, just a routine vaccine”, they told us. I assumed that everyone else had had the same blackout experience that I had because they all sported dazed expressions.

Something was definitely wrong, so I focused my attention on what they were injecting into us. After receiving the shot, faces instantly went blank. I mimicked the expression after getting mine, but nothing seemed to change for me. No one seemed to remember anything when I talked to them later on, and I realized that the shots had wiped their memory clean.

Five hundred seventy-eight days had passed since that one day. Five hundred seventy-eight days were stolen from our lives. On the five hundred seventy-ninth day, our lives changed, some for the worse, while others for the better. I was in the field, doing my mandatory daily exercise when the alarms went off. Shortly after that, an explosion was heard, and smoke entered the air. The smoke filled my lungs, and I stumbled, gasping for air. I couldn’t see anything past a few feet. An arm appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me as I was about to pass out.

When I awoke, I was surprised to find myself on a bed. As I scanned my body, I saw tubes swarming through it.

These were different than the ones in the facility, though. These were meant to help me live.

JUN 2018||The penchant|14

PROSE

Darkness was once again cast into people’s hearts and minds

by meher mehta

15

The Big Bang was the beginning of the universe. It was the day Earth was born. In the very painful beginning of her life, she coped with asteroids bombarding her and the moon crashing into her. Over time, after healing her scars and living alone in the vast universe, she decided that she was ready to create life. That decision marked the start of a young human civilization. Ever since mankind set forth its first footsteps on the land of this planet, Earth had always tried to accommodate the needs of her children.

Over the centuries, Mother Earth treated her children with the utmost respect. She showered them with water when they were thirsty. She gifted them rich lands when they were hungry. She made oceans and rivers so they could explore her vast lands by boat.

As time passed, her children evolved into a more sophisticated species.

They started ransacking her sacred forests, leaving a trail of barren land so that they could fill it with their concrete jungle.

Soon, rivers started to run dry and fish were in peril. The lands that were once filled with abundant and diverse creatures now only had a few. Rejecting the natural Earth, her children built huge, grey factories that emitted nauseous gases. Not only were they destroying the earth, they also fought amongst themselves, and to Mother Earth’s horror, they started killing each other. Thousands paid a price for the mistakes of a few powerful humans.

Mankind, the species that was supposed to be one of Earth’s most fascinating creations, was now her doom.

Mother Earth reprimanded them and punished them by sending storms. She sent tornadoes and tsunamis to remind them that nature is powerful and should be preserved. She cast droughts to help them remember that land was limited and needed to be taken care of. She struck thunder and fires onto the lands to shower her anger upon them. Mankind, ignorant to their mother’s rage, adapted and moved on. They battered, burned, and infected Mother Earth further through their wars and disagreements. Mother Earth did not know what to do. She was lonely in the solar system because she was unique.

None of the other planets had ever hosted life.

Devastated, she looked for answers. She empowered wisdom in the minds of those who respected her. She gave them hope. She helped them find a man to believe in.

He was the enlightened man. This man convinced humans to follow him instead of trying to destroy each other. The humans had never experienced religion before and were amazed by how powerful it was. They started helping each other understand the world and how it came to be. Many thought that this divine man—who they call God now, created Earth. God was the beginning of life.

Soon, other religions and Gods came to be, and people started treating the land better and accepting Earth’s gifts with gratitude.

However, peace did not last long. Fights broke out on which God was better and which one should be worshipped. Wars raged, and the peace Earth worked so hard to attain fell into pieces. Darkness was once again cast into people’s hearts and minds. Tyranny took over the lands and humanity entered its dark days. After the wars, Mother Earth was damaged beyond repair. She was dying from the disease that entered the air from the nuclear wars. She saw how her children were suffering. After all the ordeals she had gone through to get civilization to this stage, she wasn’t going to lose them now. As a last resort, she whispered in the ears of the smartest men and women on how to survive the radiation.

Mother Earth recalled how she had watched these intelligent apes evolve into a brilliant species. She had watched them discover fire. She had observed as they ventured out in the world and started building towns. She had acknowledged them as they invented trains, cars, airplanes, and even cellphones. She had seen them fight and make peace. She had watched them die and be born. She had been with them every step of the way, and now they were saying goodbye. She ruefully waved farewell as her children embarked on a journey to another planet that would give them the same kindness Earth that had given. She hoped that the humans wouldn’t fall towards their demise in the endless cycle of destruction they created on the other planets. The humans were Earth’s greatest accomplishment and her greatest bane.

EARTH’S CREATIONS

POETRY La Silla Observatory. 2011.

FORGETTING LIGHT by nicole xie Do not lose hope to the endless sky With its silver blankets caging us in.

Even behind the stormy gray, Remember that A stunning, Clear blue jewel still awaits us, That the gray will soon bring life back To the wilting fields of flowers that have sweltered in the sun.

Finally, The storm begins, And the tears of the sky wash away All traces of our sadness, Revealing, once again, The brilliance of the sun we had almost forgotten, And bringing color to the world again.

Patches of sky reflect in our tears, For our hearts will forever remain With the eternal blue.

JUN 2018||The penchant|16

PROSE

ECHOES by anika bansal

More than a place I live, home is a place where I can take refuge, and hide away for a little bit from the cruel world outside its walls. Home is safety, security, and warmth. I have moved around quite a bit, but my current house is a quaint little thing tucked quietly into the end of the street, ordinary and nondescript and ordinary with its paint-flecked wooden fence and crumbling brick walls like pine needles and freshly cut grass, wafts around the neighborhood during the spring. The air is always bustling with activity, the yells of children yelling as they play in the streets or the ear-splitting caws of a flock of crows float across the street. However, on the rare quiet mornings, everything is completely still, ven the breeze waiting with bated breath for something—, anything, —to disrupt the silence. The trees surrounding the house are covered in flowering honeysuckle vines and thick, spongy moss that is soft to the touch.

Bright red berries grow on nearby shrubs.

They explode with a tangy sweetness on your tongue when eaten, if you can get any before the squirrels snatch them all. The squirrels scamper over the dusty fence in my front yard, running frantically like the wind. But, more than the trivial details, my home is memories. It is the memories of the thousands of times I cried, fought and laughed, the time I first held the tiny,

17

squirming bundle that was my baby brother in my arms. One day, I will leave to live somewhere else, and so will my brother and all the other occupants.

Eventually, the rooms will be empty and abandoned, or torn down and replaced.

But, this home will always hold a piece of my heart. We may be gone, but the walls of our home will always hold memories of our childhood, and the long-forgotten echoes of our laughter.

However, on the rare quiet mornings, everything is completely still

Cinderella threw away her glass slippers When Charming couldn’t recognize her without makeup Ariel returned to her family under the sea When Eric said he liked her better when she didn’t talk Belle smashed her beloved tea set When Beast wouldn’t let her out of the house to meet friends Aurora slapped Philip across the face When he was caught by her kissing drunk girls at the club Because real life isn’t a fairytale The two met in high school, a Christian one, Back when they still thought love would always be Patient and kind and not boastful nor self-seeking They thought they would never grow angry or resentful, They never thought their record of wrongs would grow so long They had promised one another To always protect, always trust, Always hope, always persevere, And never fail Their pinkies had intertwined And they’d sealed their fate with a thumb The two never even considered That hearts or promises were so easily broken They knew That they were at the crossing, the intersection, the dead end Where they stood facing one another Ready to head off in separate directions There were all the signs He knew when everything that had made her special to him Her laugh, her horrible taste in movies,

her seemingly never-ending stream of tears, her slow blinks when she was nervous, her oversized hoodies, her dad jokes, everything Now only served as reminders that she was no longer so special to him She knew When parts of him that she had mostly ignored in the past His need to always be right, his sometimes unexplained fits of anger, his pickiness, His forgetfulness, his reluctance to apologize, his insensitive comments, everything Now grated on her, firing her up to fight like a red flag to a bull They could deny it all they wanted but every joke that wasn’t laughed at, every anniversary that went by without occasion, every silence that had long since become uncomfortable Only confirmed what they knew And confirmed and confirmed and confirmed Their love that had started like a fairy tale was coming to an end In a way that no romance novel could’ve prepared them for falling out of love felt a lot like what it had been like to fall into it, Slowly but surely, except this time there was no one to catch them when they fell Life goes on, even when a heart has stopped graduation came and went, they shed their youth for new skin She went off to a fancy college, he took up an apprenticeship She thinks about him sometimes,When there’s a quiet moment in the morning Or when she listens to a song they listened to together, alone Or when someone on campus smiles at her And she remembers how he used to look at her like she was the only person in the world He keeps her in a secret box in a dark corner of his mind, Taking her out

only when pangs of loneliness hit him in a crowd Or when feelings well up but tears run dry Or when sugar-coated consolations taste bitter and hard to swallow He looks at all the rust and dust blanketing what’s left of them And he recalls the shiny new untouched pristine thing they were It hurts to remember They try not to She practices smiling in front of her mirror So no one notices her hidden grimace He drowns himself in his work So he can no longer hear her voice over the crashing waves But they both know it never could’ve been Because if you can fall in love, you can fall out of it If you wanted a happily ever after, you never should have read till The End.

Because real life isn’t a fairytale

FALLING OUT OF LOVE by verb JUN 2018||The penchant|18

PROSE

by ayushi batwara

EARTH DAY The Earth. The Beginning.

The Earth is the mother of all nature, supporting life since over four billion years ago.

The Humans. Perhaps. The End. Right now, the humans say they respect the Earth. They call it Earth Day, April 22. What about the other 364 ¼ days?

The problem is right now, right here, and more prevalent than ever. The day we start realizing the importance of the Earth is the day we will revolutionize our lifestyles. Now, the question is when is this day going to come? The answer lies in awareness. The lack of awareness has lead to a multitude of problems in the past, and this is where history supposedly comes in to teach us about yesterday’s problems and today’s solutions. However, is this the case with our environment? It doesn’t seem like it.

Before we dive deeper into the problems of society and the environment and ways to solve it, it is equally as crucial to understand the functions of our earth. The earth provides support for all forms of life.

Humans, a significant part of the forms of life, live in societies. These societies’ actions are driven by the economy. You may be asking yourself, what does this mean? This means a plethora of ideas. First, it means that countries are in the best interest for their economic sustainability and success.

This, in turn, reflects in adverse situations for several developing countries throughout the world, which results in poor decision making. This poor decision making is what undermines the earth as these decisions can encompass anything from major deforestation projects to scarring the crust to find prized minerals. The true debate comes down to economic versus environmental sustainability.

The equilibrium point where economic and environmental sustainability meet is what all countries should aspire for, but history has proven to us, time and time again, that these false hopes and pledges only deter us from saving the earth.

Now, in the status quo, there are several acts of legislation being passed to essentially compensate for the irreversible damage that human civilization has done to the environment. However, these actions,

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although morally justifiable, fail to repent for the true debt we have accumulated on earth. When we cut deeper and deeper into earth’s crust for fossil fuels, when we add billions of pounds of greenhouse gases to the atmosphere, when we destroy thousands of natural habitats, we simply only realize the long showers, comfortable and cozy homes, the endless wifi, as a result of the actions we take. In simple terms, this is all the result of a lack of awareness.

All it takes is the initiative to step up and learn more. The earth is a gift to humanity, and we need to respect it.

On Earth day this year, read about the ways humans have jeopardized life on the earth and find a way to make a change. This change may be learning more about the root causes; it could be teaching younger kids; it could be starting a new project. Regardless of whatever step you take, it is a step in the positive direction, and you could be that 1% of the population that revolutionizes life on earth today.

NASA. 2017.

UNDER THE

CHERRY BLOSSOMS by anousha sannat Ring! Students poured out of the building like water from a beaker.

The ice remained. I let my friends go ahead. I wanted to stay and sketch the sunset. It was the most gorgeous view from the windows of Malibery High. My dream was to be an artist, and I would pursue it ‘til the end. It was already 4:30, and I just had to wait 23 more minutes. Luckily, I was patient.

I started to paint the art teacher’s vase of freshly picked tulips; it had been a gift from the Garden Club. I looked back up at the clock—4:45. I listened to the ticking of the clock, and didn’t notice the musical strains of a violin in the background. There was an eerie silence when the music stopped. I suddenly realized I wasn’t alone.

Thinking it was just a teacher, I shook off any uneasiness and walked over to the windows.

There it was.

The gorgeous cherry blossom tree was in bloom. Spring had come. I thought of the urban legend and a smile spread across my face. It was thought to be true that, on the first Friday of Spring, a girl should be with their lover and they would be destined to be together forever. What a dream, but I still believed it. I was superstitious like that.

I went back before seeing something out of the corner of my eye. I turned, but nothing was there. I grabbed my sketchbook, and decided to

go to the cherry blossom tree for a better view and some inspiration. But there was already a girl there. She had long black hair, let down to her waist. She seemed to be a student, judging by her uniform. She turned to see me, and her piercing silver-blue eyes and pale skin astonished me. In her hand, she held a violin.

The sun started to set, and she sat down by the tree. I joined her.

Gorgeous vivid colors filled the sky. The clouds turned pink. The sun was a fierce yellow. Warm shades of orange and yellow filled the open space.

The girl played her violin softly, and I sketched the sunset. I turned to her. Her eyes were closed. She seemed so relaxed. Her music faded and she opened her eyes. It was getting dark, but for a moment, there was nothing else in the world but her. I got up, and grabbed my lantern. She got up too. I was too speechless to say something or ask her anything, so she left. I stood there for the next hour as dark blue tones washed over the sky. Finally, I got back to the dorm, but I was far too awake to go to bed. I looked at my calendar. April 3, the first Friday of Spring.

JUN 2018||The penchant|20

POETRY Eastlandtunes. 2016.

SUGAR DROPS

by catherine you

Spun glass beads hang, pale and fair.

Severed—sweets suspended there.

A winding top, a whirling chair.

A fun-house glass distorts the air.

Wretched laughter marking time.

Besotted raindrops, plinking chimes.

Penny candy, ten a dime.

Scattered hopes in lemon lime.

Popping gum (it’s sugar free), A piece for you and two for me.

Hemlock taffy, milk-washed trees.

Swathed in scarlet hedony.

Candy kisses, marked in gray.

Mint-stems burn in dark decay.

Laceleaf smoke, a cloud-bright day.

Red hard-candies, thrown astray.

Crooked canes of marbled skin, Glaucus glass leaves, paper-thin.

Spinning hands thread candied gin.

Stringing mints to jump and spin.

Sea smoke cased in lollipops, Fragments capped with blistered tops.

Sanguine ichors forgo stops And dilute seas with sugar drops.

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IdĂŠe Cadeau. 2018.

HEARTS Hearts, Balloons filled with love, Burst for every heartbroken heart, Blown up for every newborn love, Love is unlimited.

NEW JERSEY

by srithija s.

A place of wonder, Garden State, they call it.

Full of friends, Never alone, My old home, Miss it oh so dearly, My old home, gone forever.

My new home, in California, Golden State, they call it.

Empty voids, Now alone, My new home.

Now I must fulfill my mission...

Start my life all over again.

JUN 2018||The penchant|22

Mary15. 2017.

POETRY

The candle in the darkness Is that window in the distance Also lit at 4 a.m.

You promised to spend the whole day studying But the time-traveling powers of YouTube Have brought you here You should really keep working But you can’t help but open facebook And scroll through your favorite pages Because only here can you find friends Who truly understand the struggle That is just so real The only way to let them know That you are still alive Is to tag them in the comments Lost in the peaceful oblivion of memes That restore your faith in humanity And maybe in yourself The candle in the darkness Is knowing that

You are not alone.

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by desiree ho

THE

CANDLE IN THE DARKNESS

OBLIVION by anika bansal

The vividest dream I have had was when I was seven years old. I dreamt that I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. It rocked violently from side to side as waves battered the hull, salty water spraying over the deck. The crisp air stung my lungs, but I continue to inhale, gagging at the putrid smell of salt. I suddenly found myself standing next to my grandfather, and without questioning his appearance, I clutched his hand. I remember his fingers being warm in mine for a split second, but then a monstrous wave smashed through the deck and the black water engulfed my grandfather. The sky turned grey and I could see my grandfather thrashing as he slowly sunk beneath the waves until he was gone and there was only black, black water under an inky sky.

I had woken up drenched in sweat and realized I was in the waiting room of the hospital, where my grandfather had been admitted for severe lung cancer. My mother was crying and she told me to come with her. Together, we walked into his room and stood at his bedside, watching as his heart monitor turned uneven and his breathing strained. I held his warm hand as his heartbeat slowed and came to a stop, the waves finally pulling him under. And all I could see was black.

And all I could see was black.

JUN 2018||The penchant|24

POETRY

U. S. TRADE

HAIKUS

by richard cheng

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Each year we export A trillion plus dollars of Goods and services

Speaking of petrol, We buy from the middle-east We kept our promise

One bizarre export: Human and animal blood Worth nineteen billion

To get boots out of Iraq, and export them to Lebanon, Kuwait,

Americans love Bombs, guns, and ammunition We love them so much

Syria instead.

No wonder we importéd Terror in its stead.

That we sell over Three point six billion dollars: Explosive ammo

But not everything Is as grim as it may seem.

We send medicines,

But don’t forget though, One billion of models and stufféd animals

Spacecraft, and even Leadership to foreigners.

That blood we export?

To clean our messes, We import toilet paper, Two point five billion

It helps saves victims Of things like car accidents.

Although complaining

Number one, two, three Of imported foodstuffs are Liquor, wine, and beer

About global trade Sure is easy, we enjoy Lives based on trading.

For Americans Guzzle foreign alcohol As fast as our cars

After all, what would We do without human hair Imports from elsewhere?

Guzzle gasoline.

Three cheers for our exports of Carbon dioxide!

Data Source: The Observatory of Economic Complexity (https://atlas.media.mit.edu/en/)

No wonder we imported Terror in its stead.

Todd Sechel. 2015.

THE FORGOTTEN

PATH by neha patel The outgoing, noisy river By the lonesome, miserable path Provides way for all Receiving nothing in return Is heartbroken with grief Jealousy creeping upon its immortal soul Wanting to be like the river Where many are dependent upon its sources

EXPLORATION

Making it the heart of the forest The river praised in its glory Independent of all Causing the lonesome path to suffer from eternal misery

Rowing through the sea, The viking gazes forward To uncharted lands.

Longing to be honored and remembered Needing a companion Will face eternal misery and loneliness

THIS HAIKU

As agony and sorrow kills the path each day Each day is a new life

CONTAINS

With new memories and hopes to make This haiku contains: "haiku," "contains," "this," “and,� "and," contains this haiku.

by richard cheng JUN 2018||The penchant|26

POETRY

FRIENDS

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by aanvi koolwal

Always together, And forever.

Like two things that never part.

If I am the peanut butter, she is the jelly.

If she is the milk, than I am the cookies.

A sweet combination we are, If we were not apart.

Sharing ideas, and thoughts, and Feelings and more.

It’s a living safe, With a large stock of happiness, And much more.

This five letter word means a lot to me, Because true friends are very hard to seek.

But once you find one, it’s even harder to resist’ To resist the temptation to chit-chat all your days.

Without a friend, I can’t imagine how life would be, It would be plain, and boring, and as lonely as can be.

You probably have met one, who understands your feelings.

If not just give someone a smile, and they’ll know that you are their friend.

Dedicated to my best friend

JUN 2018||The penchant|28