Literal Impact, Fall 2021, Volume 5

Literal Impact

Prospect High School’s student-run Art and Literary Magazine Fall 2021 Vol. 5

Cover art: Thoughts, Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

Literal Impact Fall 2021

Letter from the Editor-in-Chief Dear Readers,

Prospect's Art and Literary Magazine, Literal Impact, is delighted to welcome you to a celebration of the art and literary talents of its students. It has been over a year since we have been able to meet in-person, but as we approach a new normal, hope persists.

In this Fall 2021 Issue, there is a collection of extraordinary student pieces ranging from photography and classic art to short stories and poems. You will see the uniqueness, thoughtfulness, and symbolism of each work alongside the distinct styles of each artist. Each piece is imbued with feelings and emotions, detailing the creativity of the artists within this edition. We hope that you will enjoy this issue and that these works will inspire your thoughts and encourage creativity.

Most importantly, in a time of irregularities, we would like everyone to find solace in their individuality. Literal Impact is one of the many opportunities for students to convey their innermost thoughts. Even during a confusing shift back to in-person, you have shown resilience and dedicated time to adjustments. To every one of you, we hope you continue a journey of expressiveness and originality.

We would like to give special thanks to all of the remarkably talented artists who submitted their work; this magazine could not exist without you. Also, a big thank you to Mr. Fisher, our advisor, for always supporting us. And of course, thank you to the whole Literal Impact team for your collaborative efforts and for making this edition a reality.

Without further ado, we hope you enjoy this Literal Impact Fall 2021 Issue!

Ishan Garg Editor-in-Chief of Literal Impact

Literal Impact Editorial Staff Editor-in-Chief: Ishan Garg Graphic Design and Layout Editor: Adrienne Ferguson Business Editor: Venice Hodac Copy Editor: Clay Whelan Associate Editors: Daphney Tsai Helena Fitzgerald Lindsay Pagination Proofreader: Tazmeen Ahmed Club Advisor: Mr. Fisher Web Support: Ms. Cannell

Fall 2021 Impact Award Winners In every issue of Literal Impact, the editors work together to choose four pieces to recognize with an Impact Award, one in each of the four categories: Art, Poetry, Photography, and Prose Writing. Each of the award winners also receives a small scholarship. The award selection uses a blind submission process, whereby the editors do not know who is the artist or author of the piece, until after the winner has been chosen.

We had many contributions submitted to this issue, and many outstanding pieces. The editorial board found these four works to be especially well-crafted. It’s an honor to bring you the Fall 2021 Impact Awards:

Impact Award for Art: Ocean, Fidan Jabrayilova Impact Award for Poetry: Location, Sid Banerjee Impact Award for Photography: Into the Clouds, Kenny Namba Impact Award for Prose Writing: Smoking Embers, Clay Whelan Congratulations to the winners for their extraordinary creative abilities! You will find these award winning creative works, along with many other beautiful pieces, on the following pages.

Support our magazine! Impact Awards are funded solely by donations. If you would like to support the creative arts and writing at Prospect by contributing to the online magazine’s scholarship fund, please visit our donation link at Prospect High School Web Store.

Thank you!

Literal Impact is a student-run art and literary magazine that is published on-line twice a year. All Prospect students are welcome to submit their creative work! We publish a variety of art and literary works:

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Painting Drawing Cartoons Graphic Stories

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Short Stories Poetry Six-word Stories 280-Character “Twitterature”

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Photography Photos of Sculptures or other 3D Design work Scripts for Short Plays

Do you want to be featured in our next issue?

Literal Impact is accepting entries for our Spring 2022 publication. To learn about the submission process, please visit our website prospectalmagazine.wordpress.com and click on the menu item ‘How to Submit Work’.

The work featured in this magazine is the intellectual property of Prospect High School students. All ownership rights are retained by the student artists and authors. Literal Impact is primarily an online magazine; however a limited number of print editions will be made available. Please contact us through our website if you are interested.

ProspectALMagazine.wordpress.com

Table of Contents Artwork

Flower Girl, Fidan Jabrayilova. .

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Coping Mechanism, Fidan Jabrayilova . .

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Ocean, Fidan Jabrayilova.

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Thoughts, Fidan Jabrayilova . .

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Life (1), Min Wang .

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Place of Happiness, Beyza Tepegoz .

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Dragon Ball GT Inspired Spar, Chloé Sienknecht .

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Marilyn Monroe, Fidan Jabrayilova .

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Untitled (1), Beyza Tepegoz .

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Untitled (2), Beyza Tepegoz.

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Life (2), Min Wang.

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Reflection, Fidan Jabrayilova .

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Poetry and Six-Word Stories Two Six-word Stories, Mia Soto

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Time per Second, Felipe Feldman

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Death Comes, Albert Cruz Jr. . .

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What Have You Done To Me?: A Poem for A, Mia Soto.

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Location, Sid Banerjee .

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Dear Future, Albert Cruz Jr.

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New Hope, Albert Cruz Jr..

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The Tourist in the Cloak, Shannon Vu..

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In My Head, Adanna Todd

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Empty Room, Albert Cruz Jr.

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At the Traffic Light, Kristin Hsi.

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The Sentimentals, Kristin Hsi .

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Embrace, Albert Cruz Jr. .

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Short Stories and Flash Fiction Deserted Funland, Demi Arriaga Felix

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Sleep Paralysis, Demi Arriaga Felix .

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Smoking Embers, Clay Whelan.

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Closing in a Story on Anxiety, Demi Arriaga Felix .

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Don’t Trust the Light, Demi Arriaga Felix

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Erratic Escapist, Melody Lin

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Girl in the Alleyway, Demi Arriaga Felix

Photography Life (4), Min Wang.

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Life (5), Min Wang.

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Into the Clouds, Kenny Namba.

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Baby Acorn Woodpecker Takes in the World Outside, Carter Gasiorowski . . . . .

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Steller's Jay in the Shade, Carter Gasiorowski

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Photography (continued) Ole Rusty, Kayla Kirkendall

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Snowy Plover and Feather, Carter Gasiorowski .

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The Shippon, Kayla Kirkendall

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Tears of the Sky, Kayla Kirkendall

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Snowy, Kenny Namba .

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Beach in Dubai, Fidan Jabrayilova . .

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The Other Side, Clay Whelan . .

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Life (3), Min Wang.

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Backyard Spotted Towhee, Carter Gasiorowski

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Six-Word Stories The Six-word Story is a genre of flash fiction that attempts to convey the emotion of a dramatic event using only (and exactly) six words.

The most famous example is often attributed to Ernest Hemingway: For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

This issue’s six-word stories center loosely around the theme of looking towards the end of the pandemic:

Two Six-Word Stories by Mia Soto, Class of 2023

She has overcome her darkness within.

Gloom shall eventually overtake the jollity.

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Felipe Feldman, Class of 2023 Time per Second How much time is in a second?

Is it a sixtieth of a minute?

A moment's notice?

An hour passes, A journey lapses.

If life is a constant string of choice, Each second is a rolling pebble in the river of Decision.

The time it takes to raise new strife, The time it takes to end a life.

How long does a second take?

An eternity, a blip, or just an instant?

Every waking span, Every passing period, Every second counts.

Waiting around or running late, Catching up or meeting fate.

How much time is in a second?

Albert Cruz Jr, Class of 2023 Death Comes Summer days Free clouds Not a cold breeze Nor a thoughtful wind Empty sounds Silent heart A quiet mind And no sight I’m alone With no fear Simply boredom And contempt Contempt in life No desire I’m alright Let me die Scarlet red Drip drip drip Am I dead

Flower Girl Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

Yes you are Death is near Soon you’ll fear Die die die This is life 13

Mia Soto, Class of 2023 What Have You Done To Me? A Poem for A I carry a deep regard for A Despite the things others may say There’s something luminous hidden inside of those mischievous brown eyes Like a gem that allures me every single time This mesmerizing force that I cannot appear to identify He is a boy of flirtation and charm I crave for the day I can be the one he holds in his arms But am I a foolish girl for possessing these feelings?

I’ve been warned about him I’ve been told he is deceiving Told he is bad news That he’ll bruise my heart or break it into two They say so much Oh, so dear much But my feelings cannot be discarded I cannot forget the passion that I hold for him I cannot forget the tension within my shins when I stand beside him I cannot forget the trembling in my limbs when my body makes contact with his I cannot forget the ardor that melts off my eyelids when I see him I cannot forget the heat that radiates from my skin when he says something with a grin God, how these things make my heart fiercely spin Maybe I’m too young to be feeling these things However, it is inevitable for me to be a little naive But I still refuse to surrender the steam of emotions that I receive when he’s with me When he looks into my eyes Examining my soul I know he’s stealing my heart While grinning at me Like a naughty child opening presents on Christmas Eve Oh A, what have you done to me?

Coping Mechanism Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

Impact Award for Poetry Location by Sid Banerjee, Class of 2023 Location The empty day devours a starless night A rising sun, and a familiar light Plaster and paint float gently down And without sound they adorn the ground Still, it spins, the record I’d placed An eternity ago, yet still, a fresh taste The waves caress these walls Kiss the tiling, then fall Dancing for years Yet still, fresh to my ears A blinding light remains outside my window, in vain Bright, I concede, seemingly hiding the rain

Life (4) Min Wang, Class of 2022

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We were so young, so hopeful, so dumb Embracing the moonlight and dodging the sun Remember Gardena? Remember the sunsets?

Under those painted skies, words better thought of than said?

The world was confusing, but those moments made sense Finally understanding, or at least we’d pretend Endlessly wondering where all that time went Days gone, when we couldn’t see past the moment You said it was “God sent”... whatever that meant Caught up in those memories, so naively believing That we’d turn out fine, but those moments were fleeting

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Life (5) Min Wang, Class of 2022

The envious rain falls; the heavens are bleeding The light fades to nothing; to darkness, conceding Our times, our minds, our lives, our lines Diverged and fragmented, and you know I tried Heartbeats once synced, once linked, then distinct Drifting apart, then slowing, then extinct It was twisted, you’d insisted, that we’d never existed Your voice and your eyes showed me that you never missed it And a sanguine paintbrush fights the sunlight’s lies As scarlet clouds ascend and scar the skies Incensed in flames, engulfed in obsession An angel in semblance, clipped my wings with intention Your soulless smile, void of expression Blighted the earth and blackened the heavens Sheltered the sun and gave rise to the moon Invited the nights like the light’s interlude The sun closes its eyes, a deep blue blankets the space The day collapses into darkness; the sky’s lost its faith Haunted by darkness, spirits shading the lights A man on the moon, endlessly facing the nights I dream of you, but your memory is a prison; I put your soul on a record, and in silence I listen.

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Albert Cruz Jr, Class of 2023

Dear Future I know you’re there Beyond my sight Out of grasp No way to reach And no way to speak No way to see And no way to know Yet i'll worry and worry beyond compare With no reason, only doubt For i fear what you will be Yet I know i'll be around So please can’t you tell me Who am I And where will I be But then again This uncertainty Is blissful peace Impact Award for Photography Into the Clouds Kenny Namba, Class of 2023

Baby Acorn Woodpecker Takes in the World Outside Carter Gasiorowski, Class of 2024

Steller's Jay in the Shade Carter Gasiorowski, Class of 2024 19

Albert Cruz Jr, Class of 2023

New Hope There’s a hole in my heart for something more A hole I wish that could be filled A hole I’d given up on For I always thought it’d be left unfilled Till one day I met a girl A girl so sweet and kind Warmer than summer Softer than fall Cozy as winter Kinder than them all A girl so fragile and small For she had broken once before So when I held her one and all I took her pain away forevermore Forever is what we decided You and I together We have loved loved loved But this love was like no other

Impact Award for Art Ocean Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

The Tourist in the Cloak Shannon Vu, Class of 2022

The Tourist in the Cloak The world has people who travel From start to the finish in unraveling Or face the phrases where the rays of sun For work, for puns, or for funs No less is the choice from west to east Lies nothing more than the life of beats One man’s life is just like that

An attentive man sat in the corner Whose sharp features were hidden like Homer Modest and styled, yet just a man Tapping away on a computer plan Under the jacket lay a dark suit Packed for him the supplies yet so brute A bold pawn in the game of a wild chase Follows the train of trails in a race The elusive robbers running loose Across the cities from the noose He finds crumbs of clues they left behind His mind so delicate, yet sometimes blind Sudden poise to command the prepared troops Lost among the pillars of hoops

Ole Rusty Kayla Kirkendall, Class of 2025 21

The Tourist in the Cloak, continued

But not for a moment does panic settle Nor does the injustice ever meddle The underlying basis of cheating Snaps his attention to his heart beating Double-dealings irks him inside his soul Constantly alight to fire at the tolls Always had others to protect his back From danger or fail with a distinct whack And all Hades broke loose in the night rays Scrambling for assertions by the blaze Comrades are down, choices are flying far Grace and trick, the offenders stuck in the tar The computer whiz, the slick and the rider Shriveled to wear from being nasty banes No longer can rouse trouble once again The case all closed, however work isn’t tired All his time in the life of tracking Makes his enjoyment cease to lacking At hearing the children’s peeps of joy Spurred the emotions of twinkling toys

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The past he’d forgotten in his childhood Dreams in which he never knew that he could Be so soft amidst such a quickened time Alas he is a person who breaks crime Once again on the run to close the net Catch the Los Angeles scammer in debt Yet not so far into the darkened shade To the world he is the shield of aid

In My Head Adanna Todd, Class of 2024

In My Head There is someone in my head Another part of me Don’t be afraid It’s not what it seems to be The monsters The horror The memories that flash before my slumber They’re all in my head Wherever I go, they follow They creep and creep Becoming my shadow I’m not afraid of the monsters in the closet The ones in the darkness Or the ones hiding underneath my bed Because they’re way more horrified Of the ones living...

In my head Thoughts Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

Albert Cruz Jr, Class of 2023

Empty Room Sitting alone Laying down This cold dark room says everything From how alone To how dark To the fear in my mind And the emptiness in sight This lack of touch And no one near It feels so cold Like death is near As if I never truly lived Outside these dark lonely walls As if I never felt love Or joy from another I’ve always been alone So I’ve been told But now this empty room Feels like home

At the Traffic Light Kristin Hsi, Class of 2023

At the Traffic Light

Who are you?

You say nothing.

What’s wrong with you?

You stare at the sky.

You’re ignoring me.

I reach to touch you.

“R is also for rabies.”

Who said that?

I did.

You’re a pile of squirrel guts and an Ass. You shut up and lay on the concrete.

Life (1) Min Wang, Class of 2022

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Place of Happiness Beyza Tepegoz, Class of 2023

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Dragon Ball GT Inspired Spar ft Giovanni and Andre Chloé Sienknecht, Class of 2022

The Sentimentals

Kristin Hsi, Class of 2023

“I'd kill for a fish,” she said.

“I'd kill to be a dried up fish,” I said.

“These waves sound like bliss,” she said.

“These waves are filled with fish piss,” I said.

“Feel the sand, it’s warm,” she said.

“I stepped on a fork,” I said.

“Look, a boat!” she smiles.

“Each year, 22 humpback whales die from boats!” I smile.

I keep smiling.

Snowy Plover and Feather Carter Gasiorowski, Class of 2024 28

Demi Arriaga Felix, Class of 2024

Deserted Funland I work at a rundown arcade right across of an old abandoned Amusement park called “Children’s Paradise”, there were some stories of children disappearing in that place and soon after time the city just decided to shut it down. The only “fun” thing in this old deserted down.

After my shift at the arcade I decided to.. peep around the creepy place. I thought ‘eh, couldn’t hurt to go exploring.. what's the worst that could happen?’. As I snuck through all the caution tape and disgusting spider webs I looked around. This place wasn’t what it used to be anymore— all the rides were filled with rust and there was trash everywhere. I spent a couple of hours there and found one of those cool mirror illusions that would make your body look all wonky. I walked up to one of them and there they were. Behind me in the reflection, I could see.. the missing children.

The Shippon Kayla Kirkendall, Class of 2025

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Albert Cruz Jr, Class of 2023

Embrace Echoing hazard in the blizzard of a mind A blizzard once a fog in ones sight A sight blurred by life’s end Unbeknown of ones gifts A gift renounced by those who ache To this day ones shine will fade Fade away from loving grace The grace of those who sought to raise Raise a child in loving grace To fight away tomorrow’s pain Tomorrow’s pain was too great Great enough to fade the grace Grace once sought fade away Emptiness all remains Enveloped in darkness pain

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Tears of the sky Kayla Kirkendall, Class of 2025

Demi Arriaga Felix, Class of 2024

Sleep Paralysis I saw a bridge across the road; it looked so deserted and lonely. As I slowly approached it I couldn't help but feel like I was slowly losing breath, my lungs were giving up on me. I ran as fast as I could to the bridge as it gave me some sort of comfort somehow, but every step became harder and harder to take. When I finally reached the beginning of the bridge, it felt as if I was inhaling fire. I stepped onto the bridge. I woke up. I was awake, but couldn't move. The weight of running to the bridge was upon me again. As if the entire bridge was on my chest, suffocating me.

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Marilyn Monroe Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

Impact Award for Prose Writing Smoking Embers Clay Whelan, Class of 2024

The phone in Elio’s hands clatters onto the tile flooring in front of them. They press into the wall at their back, hard. A breath shudders through their lungs and sticks at their throat, burning a fiery chasm through their esophagus. There’s a noticeable tremble in their fingertips as they struggle to pick the phone back off the floor.

That message is still there, right in front of them, words glowing white against blue. For a wild second, Elio considers retracting everything they’ve said; tell Bay that it was just the moment, they were just upset, they want to keep trying to make this work.

“Delivered” is replaced by “Read” and Elio bites their lip to stop the tears welling up in their eyes. It’s too easy to imagine Bay, gasping in disbelief. Maybe they collapsed, are screaming in agony on the floor, maybe they’re cursing Elio’s name.

Maybe they regret everything now, the way Elio does. Or… or maybe they don’t, maybe they’re reading this and nodding slowly the way they do sometimes they realize they can’t do much but accept something. They made it clear that this didn’t matter as much to them as it did to Elio, didn’t they? That the whispered “I love you”s were simply the words you say to suspend the fantasy of a good time until you’re ready to go home?

Elio rubs at their temples with the heels of their palms, letting the phone settle on their lap. There’s no reply. There haven't even been dots to show typing. A surge of something white-hot and terrified jolts through Elio’s insides. What if… what if Bay just never says anything? They could leave this open wound festering on the table and never seal it up. Why, really, wouldn’t they? It’s their fault, after all. All of it, everything, all of the shouting and the world up in smoke. All of the kisses that left Elio’s mind scrambling to make sense of betrayal in the daze.

It would make sense for Bay to do that. To leave Elio floating lifeless in the once-beautiful river they built together. Because maybe it isn’t Bay that didn’t know how to let go, that held on too long even after everything crumbled.

Bay lost feelings. That was the justification. “I lost feelings but I didn’t want to hurt you. And I see now that I did that anyway, probably worse that I would have. But I don’t want to let you go.”

And Elio wants to scream so loudly, so horribly that their vocal chords never recover.

What is the use of speech when the one person who you want to hear it has disappeared with the imprint of their hand still warm in yours?

Elio had kissed Bay through the tears. They had kissed them and didn’t even care that both of their noses were all gross with snot. At each breath, Elio had said they didn’t want to let go either. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I don’t hate you. I don’t understand, but I don’t hate you, and I never ever want to lose you.”

Hadn’t Bay kissed back? Hadn’t they said that those weeks afterwards, when the two of them didn’t talk, were the worst of their life? That they’d thought that feelings had dried up when it was more like they had been hidden from view? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The pulse in Elio’s wrist thuds at double speed. Air shoots through their nose.

A hand reaches into their stomach and churns into a whirlpool.

How sorry could Bay have been? Two weeks of coffee dates and a “No holiday, I just wanted to get something for you” book later, and Ami sent another photo like the last one. Bay, with their fingers up in some girl’s hair. Not even hiding.

The door to the biology classroom that the two of them had had together Freshman year was clear enough in the background. How cruel, to join that memory with this one, from before Elio’s things had been shoved into a moving van that they hadn’t even been told was coming before it did. The worst part about Ami’s fuzzy little iphone photo was the smile that danced at the corners of Bay’s lips.

The kitchen tiles are hard under Elio’s legs. They’ve been sitting for so long that their feet are not even tingling anymore, they’re just numb.

Demi Arriaga Felix, Class of 2024

The Girl in the Alley Way

They say you should never follow strangers into strange places, but what if it was a little girl in trouble?

She stands near a dark alleyway asking strangers for help, “Help, help! My mother's ill and we have no money to get medicine!”

Only few times will there be people with a kind soul to actually go and see if they can help. But once they go in, they never come out.

Untitled (1) Beyza Tepegoz, Class of 2023

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Demi Arriaga Felix, Class of 2024

Closing In (A Story on Anxiety) When I'm in a room full of people, I've never felt more alone. I sit quietly there and try not to make any noise while my hands fidget and I start tapping my foot really fast. It gets hard to breathe, as if I were being chased by a scary monster. I look around and the walls seem as if they're closing in and it makes me more anxious as sweat and tears drip down my face. I make excuses that I can't hang out with people as it may cause me more stress and anxiety if I do. Sometimes I have to try and be friends with the scary monster.

Snowy Kenny Namba, Class of 2023

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Demi Arriaga Felix, Class of 2024

Don’t Trust the Light Driving over big bridges with the ocean underneath it can be scary to cross at night, especially without knowing what could be in the water.

Beach in Dubai Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

It was exactly 12:34am when I had to cross the bridge.

I was trying to get to my grandmother's house to be able to visit as a surprise, but the road I usually took was blocked off for construction so instead I tried taking another way. My maps lead me to a creepy bridge that gave off an eerie vibe, but I thought nothing much of it. An hour in and the bridge seemed like it was never ending. It was lit up by a faint light but... I didn’t see any lamp posts. ‘That's weird,’ I thought. Honestly, it could be my mind playing tricks on me, but I pulled over to get a better look at the bridge. I walked around and to my surprise I was right!

There were no lights to be seen on the bridge, And suddenly I heard a loud noise in the ocean. I quickly ran over to the railing of the bridge and looked around the water and my eyes widened as I saw a big fish looking monster. With a faint light on its head.

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The Other Side Clay Whelan , Class of 2024 38

Untitled (2) Beyza Tepegoz, Class of 2023

Erratic Escapist Melody Lin, Class of 2024

Erratic Escapist On a somewhat cloudy afternoon, Eve sat on her blue swivel chair. The wheels had been removed because, “It was a distraction,” her mother had said, all those years ago, “and besides, you’ll dent the carpet.” Eve turned away from the scattered mess of school materials on her desk and floor to look out of the tiny and only window in her bedroom. What she saw scared her half-to-death.

A girl, one or two years younger, had her head in view. She was smiling and waved. It was, most definitely, none other than her sister, Skye.

The familiarity of the face quickly calmed Eve down, but she was still confused.

Eve went over to the window and pushed down on the difficult lever and slid the white-framed panel aside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked her sister, “you haven’t come for months!” “I had permission to visit!” Skye said excitedly, which was unlike her. Skye was usually an expert at poker faces, but today, she showed anything but. Tugging on Eve’s arm, she continued. “I have to show you something. You’ll like it!”

Once she was outside, Eve let her sister lead her down the street.

One block down, there was a shiny, purple motorcycle parked by the sidewalk. Skye pointed at it with jazz hands, “Look at what I got!”

Eve was confused. “Is this yours? Because if it was, you can’t even drive it. You’re twelve years old.”

“No, no, no,” she said, getting in the seat. “Hop on! I can drive it, trust me.” And it’s illegal, Eve thought, but after a moment, she got on anyway. Skye started the engine and drove straight ahead. She didn’t take any turns to get on the main roads, which confused Eve. The main roads were the only way to get anywhere else besides the neighborhood. Eve’s sister started speeding, but clearly, she didn’t care. The speedometer went up, up, and up, and when Eve looked down again, she was looking at the neighborhood from a bird’s eye view. Looking back at the speedometer, Eve realized that the speed was still increasing; a few moments later, she couldn’t even see the land beneath them anymore.

Life (2) Min Wang, Class of 2022

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Reflection Fidan Jabrayilova , Class of 2022

A few minutes went by before the two dove out of the clouds and another city came into view. When they got closer, Eve recognized the MRT (Mass Rapid Transit) tracks and the trains zooming past buildings. They were back in their parents’ hometown, where their whole extended family lived. How they managed to cross the Pacific Ocean in a few minutes, she didn’t know. Eve’s family had planned to visit this year, but the pandemic kept them from coming.

“Where should we go?” Eve asked Skye.

“Seven Eleven, duh,” she answered, “like usual.” This was true. Every time they saw one of those stores, they’d enter to get some kind of beverage, due to the humid summers, even though it was usually because Skye wanted to. Almost any store with air conditioning where Skye landed the purple vehicle by the long row of colorful motorcycles in front of the Seven Eleven. Eve followed her sister in through the automatic sliding doors. A familiar ding dong sounded when the doors sensed new customers.

Immediately, Skye went to the beverage section and grabbed her usual drink, honey green tea in a small carton. She got a bottle of milk because the containers were reusable, and she’d collect them and use them as water containers at school.

“Eve! Look at this!” Skye waved her over, holding up the carton of tea. Eve looked at the nutritional facts.

0 calories.

“This is too good to be true,” Skye said, hopping in a circle in the narrow aisle, “In this case, I’m going to get two!” She opened the cooler door to get another carton.

Eve placed her milk tea down on the counter while Skye followed, dropping the two cartons down with a plop. The cashier scanned the items, and gave them the total, 80 dollars. Eve reached for her pocket, only to pull out two green fives. She didn’t have the right currency.

“Do you accept American dollars?” Eve asked.

“Sorry,” the worker said, “No foreign currencies.”

The two sisters stood there, wondering what they could do.

“There is another way,” the worker said finally.

“How?” Skye asked.

“Help me run an errand.”

Skye leaned over the counter slightly, intrigued by this.

“I need you to go to the night market and find a bottle of silver fish oil. The only clue you get is that it is behind one of your favorite stands.”

“We’ll do it!” Skye immediately said.

“What?!” Eve asked.

“Great! Now shoo, off you go! Go get my silver fish oil!”

The cashier came from behind the counter and ushered the two out the door hastily, waving them off.

Without hesitation, Skye jumped back onto the motorcycle, but sat a distance away from the handlebars.

“You are such a bad decision maker,” Eve commented, “What if it’s a trick?”

“Nah. I want my calorie free tea. Your turn to drive!”

Eve stared at the controls as soon as she started the engine.

The speed of the motorcycle increased, and as it passed 70, she felt the feeling of an airplane taking off, except it was a lot more terrifying, knowing that she could fall off any second.

“Which way do we go?” Sky asked, shouting over the whoosh of the winds.

“I’m going to follow the MRT tracks,” Eve yelled back, “Those will have signs for names of the location.”

As the sun was setting, they arrived at the night market, where people were starting to set up stands and small stores. Eve found a close alleyway to park the motorcycle, which was quite difficult to do; the alleyway wasn’t long enough of a ramp. Since this was the case, she released and rotated the accelerator until they were close enough to the ground to just drop. Eve jumped off of the vehicle. “Oh no,” she said, “we don’t have much time, we need to get the ingredient before too many people see!” “What’s our favorite stand?” Skye asked.

“I don’t know, but I certainly know mine.” Eve answered.

“Okay then, lead the way,” Skye said, “because there aren’t any other choices.”

“Hey, I remember this thing!” She stood in front of a stone sculpture, pointing at it. She probably remembered it because they always had to swerve to avoid it among the crowds of people also buying food.

“Yes, I was just about to say that.”

“No you weren’t. You’re just saying that.”

Eve internally rolled her eyes.

Finally, Eve laid her eyes on the stand she was looking for.

Rows of malt-sugar covered strawberries/cherry tomatoes were strung on bamboo sticks (Tanghulu), glimmering in the warm light coming from above. Then, she remembered the reason why they were here.

“How are we supposed to get behind the stand?”

As if on cue, the guy working put up a sign that translated to “Temporarily Unavailable.” “Oh wow,” Skye said, raising her eyebrows, “aren’t we lucky today.” She casually walked behind the stand and looked at what was there. Her eyebrows went even higher.

“Uh oh, what’s wrong now?” Eve asked.

“This is a bit… confusing,” she answered, eyes scanning across the stand.

When Eve walked to where Skye was, she understood why it would be difficult to find the silver fish oil. The upper shelf was a mess.

There were bottles of water, sugar, energy drinks, and was that soy sauce?! Next to that was a semi-scattered pile of napkins. Some of them had been soaked by the ingredients. Plus, the moon had risen and Eve couldn’t see really well.

“I have an idea,” Skye said, right before she stuck her whole arm to the back of the ingredients and started to blindly pull out bottles that, by a slight chance, might be the fish oil. Approximately five minutes later, Skye found a glass jar. It consisted of a liquid that resembled silver glitter glue. “I think this is it,” Skye said.

“Definitely,” Eve said, not being able to think of any other resemblance.

Skye took the bottle, and just as they were about to leave, a voice shouted from behind. “Hey!” The worker had returned. “What are you guys doing with my stand?” Before Eve could say anything, Skye took off running, and she followed. She heard footsteps pounding behind her, but they slowly disappeared as she ran faster.

The two weaved through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone and found the alley and motorcycle. “You drive,” Eve said, since she did last time.

Surprisingly, Skye didn’t argue. “Okay. You hold on to the jar.”

She handed Eve the silver liquid. Getting on the vehicle again, they drove 41 out to a longer road to get in the air again, heading for the Seven Eleven.

The sisters’ footsteps echoed against the tiled stairs as they entered the store once again. The same person was still working, so Skye went up to the counter.

“Here’s the ingredient,” she said, taking the glass jar from Eve and putting it down, “can we have the food now?”

The worker opened a locked cabinet behind the counter. “Yes, here they are, I even stored them in a refrigerator. Thanks for helping me get this though,” he said, taking the silver fish oil, “Have a nice day!”

Eve grabbed her milk tea and Skye took her two cartons of tea, immediately opening one. “Ah, I haven’t had this for so long,” Skye said, savoring the sweet drink.

“I’ll keep mine,” Eve said. She slipped it into the big pocket on her black jacket, and it somehow fit without falling out.

“Where to now?” Eve asked.

“Let’s just drive around.”

--“You’re back! I was just about to ask you to try this cake I made,” their mother said. When Eve entered the house, she caught the scent of freshly baked goods, like she would when living together. Deciding to just live the moment, she followed her mother into the kitchen, where one chocolate-flavored roll cake sat on the counter. Her mother cut a piece, put it on a plate with a fork, and handed it to her.

Life (3) Min Wang, Class of 2022 42

Eve savored the sweet taste of whip cream and chocolate for the first time in quite a while. She looked over at Skye and almost laughed at the sight of her stuffing the cake in her mouth, eager to go back for seconds.

“Skye, you have a class in a few minutes, by the way. We have to leave now,” her mother reminded them.

“Okay!” Skye said, grabbing another piece of cake before following their mom to the door, “Bye, Eve!” Eve waved and watched them leave before getting a second piece of cake herself on the way back to her room to finish her schoolwork.

The light blinded her temporarily as Eve’s vision blurred and came back together. Rubbing her eyes, she found herself back in her room, in the blue chair, as if none of that had just happened.

They were not in Taipei, and her mother and sister were nowhere to be seen or heard. Just to check, she peeked through the blinds and into the driveway. To her disappointment, the “road trip” car wasn’t there, meaning they never came. They called the golden Toyota Camry a travel car because it was usually used for just that.

Eve felt strangely empty. And when that happened, she would look for food to eat, so she went into the kitchen. Before she got to the snack cabinet, though, a reflection of the sun caught her eye. On the counter was a piece of chocolate rolled cake wrapped in a clear plastic bag, tied with gold string. Next to it was an excessively familiar and reusable bottle of milk tea.

Beside it was a card, with these words printed on them: Escapists make dreams a reality.

Backyard Spotted Towhee Carter Gasiorowski, Class of 2024

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Thank you for reading the Fall 2021 issue of Literal Impact, Prospect High School’s Art and Literary magazine. We hope you enjoyed it!