Akira 2023

Cabin Sketch

A K I R A

AKIRA Literary & Art Magazine 2022-2023 Published by St. Pius X High School Albuquerque, New Mexico

Copyright © 2023 by St. Pius X High School

Copyright © 2023 by St.Pius X High School Akira is a common Japanese given name and directly translates to "bright light."

All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever withou written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Distribution of this magazine without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this magazine is cover-less, it may have been reported to Jennie Vatoseow or Sanaa Givens as "ungifted or destroyed" and neither author nor dealer may have recieved praise for it. Sorry for the inconvenience.

The text is set in Cardo, an old style serif typeface designed by David J. Perry. The fonts first appearance was in 2002 with the purpose of creating a free typeface for "classicists, biblical scholars, medievalists, and linguists." The design of the font was an interpretation of the work of Aldus Manutius, a Renaissance printer.

AMCN: 5-053-406-797 AMDN: 5-058-313-131

Table of Contents

"Light From Above" & "A Cloud Descended"

Hope

By Emma Ortega & Juliana Dixon

2

"The Poetry of GDK" & "Lent"

By Cade Freeze & Anastasia Romero

3

"Dreamland" & "Muse"

By Savannah Dowling & Ax Lujan

4

By Juliana Dixon

5

"Ode to you" "Self Portrait of an 'Old Starving Artist" & "Self Portrait"

By Robert Willits & Isabella Sanchez

"The Great Oregon Ocean, Chasing Blue" & "Belle Fleur"

By Carlos Saucedo, Anastasia Romero, and Annaliesse Nunez

6 7

"Sketches"

By Manuel Morales-Hernandez

8

"Light in the Darkness"

By Caroline Madrid

9

By Juliana Dixon

10

"Ghosted

"Lone Wolf" & "To Which I love Most"

By Evangelynn Cruz and Emma Ortega

11

"Korean Soap Dramas"

By Jacquelyne Nguyen

12

"Family Dinner Scene in San Antonio" & "New York Neighborhood"

By Lena Hernandez

13

"Stars/Planets" & "Night Sky"

By Jimmy Ray Bates & Gabriel McElhanon

14

"A Bright Future" & "Pius Fall Scene"

By Gabriel McElhanon & Derek Mondala

15

"A Tale of Two Lokis" & "Vintage Collage"

By Caroline Madrid & Juliana Dixon

16

"The Pean" & "You Are Not Alone"

By Gabriel McElhanon and Carlos Saucedo

17

"Little Flamenco Dancers" & "Native American Pottery"

By Lena Hernandez & Savanna Jiron

18

By Grace Aragon

19

"Tea Time"

"Ana, Ana" & "Fruit of Temptation"

Sacrifice

By Anonymous & Brianna Lucero-Brown

21

"I am not Batman" & "This Town full of Gloom"

By Evangelina Cruz & Joseph Sanchez

22

"Maidens" & "My Last Connection"

By Neil Silver & Lena Hernandez

23

"The Shower"

By Gabriel McElhanon

24-25

"Recovery" & "Warrior"

By Ax Lujan & Robert Willits

26

"It's Not You It's Me"

By Sanaa Givens

27-28

"Against Time" & "Times up"

By Alyssa Olivas & Harmony Martinez

29

"Ice Cold Expression" & "The Weighting of the Heart & Motionless"

By Carlos Saucedo, Gabriel McElhanon & Caroline Madrid

"trapped" & "Victim 36x60"

30

Pain

By Anonymous & Robert Willits

32

"Eclipse" & "Head in the clouds"

By Nathan Matthews & Ax Lujan

33

"May 22nd" & "Hidden Demise & Blind Girl"

By Ax Lujan, Sharyna De Castro,& Julie Gonzalez

34

By Isabella Sanchez

35

"Own its Own" "The Pain" & "Gone and Still Here"

By Mykel Torres & Emma Ortega

36

"I Told You So" & "Death"

By Julie Gonzalez & Serafina Apodaca

37

"Night Prayer" & "Agony"

By Julie Gonzalez & Emma Ortega

38

By Julie Gonzalez

39

"Grieving" "Pretty Enough" & "Hypnotic"

By Alyssa Olivas & Abigail Rael

40

Pain Continued

"Anxiety"

By Angelina Acosta

41

"Overwhelmed-fountain pen ink" & "Self-destruction colored pencil"

By Angelina Acosta

42

"Temporary Misery" & "Everyone is Judging You"

By Grace Aragon & Anonymous

43

"Did You Even Leave at All?"

By Derek Mondala

44-45

By Grace Aragon

46

"Self"

"Aftermath" & "Conflicting Emotions"

By Ax Lujan & Angelina Acosta

47

By Brianna Lucero-Brown

48

By Ethan Hernandez

49

By Brianna Lucero-Brown

50

"Failure"

"1996"

"Obscurity"

"Lovecoach"

By Sanaa Givens

51-52

"Silence" & "The Ones Who Forget"

By Grace Aragon & Gabriel McElhanon

53

"Psychotic" & "Wounded Vampire"

By Joshua Robbins & Derek Mondala

54

By Elena Sutulov

55

By Sanaa Givens

56-57

By Carlos Saucedo

58

"Chile"

"Family"

"A Lonely Night"

Revenge "Faux Art"

By Noah Fox

60

"The Revenge"

By James Lockhart

61-62

"Faux Art"

By Noah Fox

63

By Sanaa Givens

64-65

"The Night Silenced" "Classified" & "Think Before Do, It Might Come After You"

By Neil Silver

66

"Wrath Like Rain"

By Sanaa Givens

67-68

"Faux Art"

By Noah Fox

69

"The Silence is Loud"

By Juliana Dixon

70-72

"Damien the Dragon"

By Evangelynn Cruz

73

By Noah Fox

74

"Faux Art"

"Zias"

By Stephen Armijo

75-76

By Tommy Valdez

77

By Sanaa Givens

78

"Mr. Keleher"

"Just Puppy Love"

Front and Back Cover Art

By Mykel Torres and Harmony Martinez

HOPE "A true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength but by the strength of his heart " ~ Zeus

Light From Above

Emma Ortega

A Cloud Descended

Juliana Dixon

A cloud descended Thick, impenetrable Looming.

It reminded me of the Second Coming, A mysterious dark mist Choking out the evil Stifling their cries Suffocating them Then clearing away For a new beginning Of golden rays and azure beauty

"No matter how hopeless everything seems I mustn't give up!"- Peter Parker

2

The Poetry of GDK

Cade Freeze

Goodness and mercy will follow

Lent

Where evil is weak and hollow

Anastasia Romero

God saves us from sorrow

Lent is a time for prayer

When the people came and saw

Reflection and thanking our savior We must give something in return

They reacted with an awe

So we can help others to learn

It takes courage, self control Determination to reach a goal As Discipline sparks the soul May God save us from a hole Born with lots of Knowledge As we strive to graduate college Through blessings and love Teach me Goodness, Discipline and Knowledge The End.

3

梦境 (Dreamland)

Savannah Dowling

Muse

Ax Lujan I’d like to write an ode to your sun bleached hair The gap in your teeth, and the chip in your new nails An ode to the snort in your laugh Your freckles, and the way your detergent smells I’ll write a song about your clothes Your stupid ugly sweaters, and your giant glasses A song about being sweet and gentle And hiding just how harsh your past is I’m writing a story to capture your temper When you kick me out blindly, not knowing what to do A story about the way you say sorry About forgiveness and love. My love, my muse

4

Ode to You Juliana Dixon This is an ode to you, Your stubbornness, Your pathological lying, Your reckless behavior It’s an ode to the person you once were Before you left my life Before I even knew you That innocent girl, That hopeful boy, It’s meant for both of you You were the reason for my frustrations and my affection When you came back, it fit like a glove Just how it’s supposed to be But you shouldn’t have come back I keep chasing you, The person you once were Instead of looking at the person in front of me I refuse to do it I don’t want to admit you’re gone and still here I don’t want to see you gone and I don’t want to see you here Let’s remember the old days, Where we fought over things like stealing my erasers Where sharing a room together in college was our only goal Where I didn’t worry about you every day Why can’t you be here and stay with me?

Where’s the light in my life when yours is dim?

What’s the point in hoping if you’re a lost cause?

Remember me Remember how we used to be Remember my Ode to You

5

Self Portrait of an 'Old Starving Artist'

Robert Willits

Self Portrait

Isabella Sanchez

6

The Great Oregon Ocean

Carlos Saucedo

Chasing Blue Anastasia Romero Chasing blue Our goal was chasing blue Our determination remained true Red is what we received until next year, you will see

Belle Fleur

Annaliesse Nunez

7

Sketches

Manuel Morales-Hernandez

8

Light in the Darkness

Caroline Madrid

"Hope is the light that lifts us out of darkness" - Superman

9

Ghosted

Juliana Dixon

The leaves blew frantically across the sidewalk, tossed up and thrown down by the wind. This time of the year is supposed to be festive, full of kids dressed up in a variety of freakish clothes, their faces painted grotesquely. This time of year is when kids get to eat all the candy and chocolate they could ever want, and the adults can't stop them. This time of year is when you go against your parent’s wishes and sneak off to a ‘haunted house’, wearing pentagrams around your necks and carrying bloody axes. That’s how it’s supposed to be, I reminded myself. But I hated it. I hated every part of it. It just reminded me of what I didn’t have now that I was no longer alive- I couldn’t partake in the sweets, couldn’t defy any parents, couldn’t even haunt a house because that’s against the rules.

Stupid rules. No hauntings….No one can see or hear you, how would I be able to haunt? You can’t go to the Land of the Living if you have had an incident of haunting. No communicating with the Non-Spirits. That one was always hard, with the amount of kids trying a Ouija Board every Halloween. I was tempted to just give them a kick in the head just for being alive. But NO. It’s against the rules (although, that didn’t stop me from shoving my fist in people’s faces). No standing in people. Yes, literally….if you stand inside a solid person too long they can notice your presence. And we can’t do that, can we? I seethed, kicking a nearby tree, but of course, my foot slid right through as if it was water.

In all honesty, Halloween wasn’t really what made me angry. I really don’t have anything else to do the rest of the year- you just drift in a spaceless, timeless waiting room, brooding about your human life and all the mistakes you made along the way during it. That’s why I'm so envious of the Living. They would live and die (most of them, anyway), and yet I was stuck watching the rest of their stupid lives play out. It was maddening. I couldn’t even remember when I was last human, I just remember small details about how I died. A sharp pain in my chest, then death. I assumed I must’ve died from a heart attack or something like that, around my early ‘20s.

“God, I’m so hungry”a girl’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I watched two girls appear at the corner of the cemetery. Automatically, I ducked behind a headstone. Oh, right. No one can see you. I still couldn’t believe that after half a century, I still forget I am no longer visible.

“Do you want to get some dinner later? I want to hit a couple houses before nightfall” You know how strict my parents are,”the other girl replied.

Girl #1 rolled her eyes. “That’s so stupid. It’s barely 6:00!”she protested.

If I could still feel hunger, I bet it would’ve growled in response. I haven’t eaten anything in over 50 years…can you believe that? The two girls stopped just outside the gate of the cemetery, peering in.

“My grandpa was buried here,”the second girl said.

“I think the whole town is buried here”the first girl scoffed.

10

“Maybe I should visit his grave, just once, before we leave,”the first girl said, ignoring the condescending tone.

“Lola! You said we were going to dinner!”the second girl whined.

Lola ignored her, her eyes combing the graves in search of her grandpa. Curious, I stepped out from behind the headstone, standing beside a tree instead. I watched her from a distance, wondering why this teenage girl was so interested in finding a grave, when most kids wander from door to door, stuffing their faces.

“Lola, it’s getting dark! I’m going to dinner without you”her friend called out, pretending to turn and walk away, but realizing Lola wasn’t going to follow, sighed and hurried after Lola.

I shifted my focus back to Lola. She was still, standing in a shadow half obscuring her face. I moved closer, trying to make out the letters on the stone. Without warning, Lola’s friend walked through me. I shuddered, rubbing my arms and taking a few steps backward. I still hated the feeling.

“Is that him?”Lola’s friend whispered. Lola nodded.

“I never knew him. He died a long time ago” “Died young too”the other girl nodded at the dates. I looked closer. She was right. Only thirty one years old.

“Sorry for taking off…I just wanted to see-”she broke off.

“Lola, what is it?” her friend asked.

I tore my eyes away from the headstone, distracted by studying it. That’s when I made eye contact with Lola, looking past her friend’s shoulders and straight at me. She stumbled back, almost tripping over a headstone. I mirrored her, startled. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in surprise. There was no mistaking it, she was seeing me.

Lone Wolves

Evangelynn Cruz

HOW can she see me?

To Which I Love Most

Emma Ortega

11

Korean Soap Dramas

Jacquelyne Nguyen

“Take the money and leave my son you gold digger!” A lady with perfectly permed hair and pristine clothes and gold jewelry exclaims as won come flying from her fingers. Another woman on the floor crying, but “I love him.” Growing up watching Korean dramas every night with my grandmother was a ritual. Each episode consisted of a roller coaster of emotions, elaborate plots twists and of course sinister mother in laws. While other kids grew up watching Disney movies, learning about the importance of friendship through the magic of love. I spent my weekday nights sitting on the edge of my grandmother’s bed enamored of the day I would land myself an attractive South Korean CEO. For me it was because of these nights, that enabled me to become closer to my grandmother.

My grandmother came to the US in 2012. She, like most immigrants, did not speak much English and unfamiliar with the customs. But she held the gleam of hope and opportunity in her eyes. I remember our first encounter. 6 year old me, holding a bouquet of flowers waiting at the airport anticipating the arrival of my “ba ngoai”. Within 20 minutes, an elderly couple arrives, a petite Vietnamese woman accompanied by an old thin tall Vietnamese man passes through the revolving doors of the terminal.

Proclaims of rejoice accompanied by hugs and kisses and happy tears quickly followed as my family reunited. The old lady scoops me in a warm tight embrace. “Cha con lớn quá!!” I looked at her blankly. The only words that I could decipher were big child.

At first my relationship with my grandmother was difficult and there was a major barriers. To me this was far from grandma that I had portrayed. Grandmas were supposed to bake apple pies. Ba Ngaoi made weird vietnamese banana bread. Grandmas were supposed to go to sugarcoat the truth and call their grandkids little angels. Ba Ngoai would scold me for scraping my knees, “who asked you to be reckless and running around” as she tendlerly placed a bandaid on. But most importantly grandmas spoke english. Ba Ngoai did not. The language barrier was a huge contributor to the early bumps of our relationships. She spoke no English and most of the Vietnamese that I learned was lost to Englishonly first grade. Communication consisted of much pointing and frustration.

But there was one thing that always became a common ground for me and her; Korean soap operas.

Every night around 6 pm or after dinner,before the time of streaming services my grandma would pick up a dictionary thick dvd box and play where we left off in our current drama. Was it going to be the typical charismatic attractive CEO and low income beautiful secretary? Or maybe it was about a mysterious spy who worked for a suspicouls but crazy rich family? Looking back, the plots were way over the top, but they built the bridge between the relationship between me and my ba ngoai. I was able to put the put together and connect he Vietnamese-dubbed dialogue of the characters and expand my Vietnamese vocabulary. The changes were small but the progressed through questions that I asked my grandmother. Eventually the bond between my grandmother deepened. Language barriers were brought down and in these moments were times when it was just a grandmother and her grandaughter bonding. My perspective pivoted from my culture, I was not longer just American, I was Vietnamese American, and I am proud.

12

Family Dinner Scene in San Antonio

Lena Hernandez

New York Neighborhood

Lena Hernandez

13

Planets/Stars

Jimmy Ray Bates

Night Sky

Gabriel McElhanon

14

A Bright Future

Gabriel McElhanon

Pius Fall Scene

15

Derek Mondala

A Tale of Two Lokis

Caroline Madrid

Vintage Collage Juliana Dixon

16

The Peak

Gabriel McElhanon

You Are Not Alone

17

Little Flamenco Dancers Lena Hernandez

Native American Pottery Savanna Jiron

18

Tea Time Grace Aragon

A leader is a dealer of hope ~ Napolean Dynamite 19

SACRIFICE "Courage. Honor.

Loyalty. Sacrifice.

You're braver than you think." ~ Captain America

20

Ana, Ana Anonymous After years of fighting I threw Ana out Me a shell of the person I was Skin and bones, hollow inside A heart barely strong enough to keep me alive Hungry for more, hungry for less Craving you Tell me I’m pretty Tell me I’m redeemable Ana, you’re all I have

Fruit of Temptation Brianna Lucero-Brown

An addiction, holding me back One more day, one more week As long as you’ll stay You’ll wear me away And when I die, and when I die You’ll tell me I’m finally beautiful Stretched so thin You can see right through me Ana, Ana has to go Far out from my mind Self-destructive, parasitic Ana, leave me behind There is no love in misery There is no beauty in pain Ana made suffering religious It’s time to heal. Never again Never again.

21

This Town Full of Gloom..

Joseph Sanchez This town full of gloom Where the flowers never bloom Citizens live in fear The visions are clear When the bank vault goes boom The Hero’s cape goes Floom!

Villains shed a tear Except this one As the Hero goes in full gear The villain has no sign of fear

I Am Not Batman Evangelynn Cruz

On the rooftop they go With a hard decision at hand The choice is clear, The vision is clear To save his town, his town of gloom He makes the unfortunate but right decision The Hero jumps with the villain in hand They Go They Tumble Never to reappear With the town now safe The safe will not be opened But with every Hero there must be a sacrifice With every Hero there must be a ending There is always a Villian that stays following And sometimes to do what's right is something You don't wanna do

22

Maidens Neil Silver

5 1/2 furlongs 9 minutes to post and Slew's Fast Lady already

cost me 50 bucks"

twitching and foaming at the

But my luck

mouth

being what it is

so I bet a $6 combo just so I can tell the boys "I had this filly in the 8th and she died in the stretch"

she ran wide

Then when they give me those so whats the big deal looks I'll be able to say "No really she was moving along the rail when she faltered then fell and died right there in the stretch

the favorite

placed 7th 2 lengths ahead of Mr. Jet's Girl

My Last Connection Lena Hernandez

23

The Shower Gabriel McElhanon “Breaking News! A meteor shower is about to enter the atmosphere. We and authorities advise everyone in Flagstaff, Arizona to evacuate and seek safety.

Again, everyone in Flagstaff, Arizona evacuate and seek safe—” “Demetry c’mon we gotta go!”

“Why?” “Are you deaf?! You heard the news! We gotta go! We’re leaving in 2 minutes!”

Demetry said under his breath: “So we move all over the place, find this perfect city and now it’s gonna get destroyed? Perfect! Just perfect!”

“C’MON!” “Yeah, yeah.”

“CAR, NOW!” “YEAH I HEARD YOU!” Demetry ran outside quickly with only a few things: Some snacks, his phone, and his watch.

As soon as Demetry closed the door, Kyle drove away.

“Kyle, what’s gonna happen now man?”

“I don’t know. We just need to stay opptimist–” “LOOK!” Demetry points to the sky where dozens upon dozens of meteors are falling towards them.

“Kyle, the bridge, the bridge!”

Kyle took a sharp right and sped to the bridge.

The both of them began to hear massive explosions behind them. Demetry looked to see what happened and saw a wall of fire blocking his view from the houses. A large noise was heard to the right of the car. They both witness a meteor fall ahead of them causing a massive explosion.

Kyle stopped abruptly.

“DEMETRY, UNDER THE BRIDGE!”

24

They both hurry. They make it under, then Kyle hears screaming near them.

“Demetry, stay here okay?”

“What, why?!”

“I’m going to see if I can help anyone out!”

“Are you CRAZY? You’re gonna die out there!”

“Just trust me.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

Kyle went out looking for people. He brought several people down to where Demetry is. One of them didn’t look too good. The rest were a little bruised up, but overall in good condition. Kyle heard another scream. As Kyle began to run towards the screaming, Demetry stopped him.

“KYLE! NO MORE! IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!” Another loud noise. They both look in the same direction where a meteor struck near Demetry sending him flying.

“NO!!!”

Kyle ran to Demetry and he’s knocked out cold and was bleeding profusely from his leg. Kyle took the belt from around his waist and wrapped it around Demetry’s leg. He picked him up and ran under the bridge. Kyle began putting pressure onto his leg to stop the bleeding.

“You need to apply pressure there” said one of the survivors, it was the very injured one.

“What!?”

“You’re putting pressure on the wrong spot, there” she points and Kyle does as she says.

“You a nurse?”

“Doctor.”

“Oh...okay what now?”

“I’ll apply pressure to the wound. What’s his pulse?”

Kyle tries to feel around. There is no pulse.

“No pulse Doc!” “Chest compressions! Chest compressions!”

Kyle began to perform chest compressions on his little brother.

“Don’t die on me now! Don’t do it!”

Kyle cracked some ribs while doing the chest compressions.

4 minutes later.

Kyle was crying and pounding his little brother's chest with all the strength he had. The Doctor put her hand on his shoulder and tried not to cry.

“I’m sorry. He’s–he’s gone.”

25

Recovery Ax Lujan

Warrior Robert Willits

26

It's Not You, It's Me Sanaa Givens I am a firm believer in the fact that funerals are the most intolerable gathering of individuals on the face of the earth. I would certainly return from my own grave and haunt my family members should they plan one after I am dead.

True, funerals are important as someone’s life has just been snuffed out and the ceremony allows the world to say goodbye. Still, I hate them. Almost as much as I hate orange soda, cinnamon muffins, and graphic novels.

And yet, the water that rushed into my nose and throat as I somersaulted through the current might ensure that I attend my own very soon.

I hoped my friends were yelling for me above the waves, but I was unsure if they knew of my impending doom for two reasons. One: the current had dragged me meters away from shore. Two: my father’s real estate salary was unable to cover the cost of waterproof hearing aids.

I did not care much. I hated how the darn things felt anyway and without them, I did not have to listen to my dad and Aunt Jia’s bickering over my grandfather’s medical bills.

Firm hands gripped my underarms and dragged me upward. My head broke the surface and I fought the urge to gasp and sputter until I was well out of the water.

I gripped Spencer’s arm as he shuffled me onto his board. He was saying something, but he knew well enough that I could not hear him.

Once oxygen graciously returned to my lungs I stared at his lips. He was asking me if I was all right. I nodded once and scanned the surface of the ocean.

His grip was firm enough that it took some effort to remove myself from his arms, but as soon as I spotted my own board my escape efforts doubled. I did not spare him a look back as I floated to my abandoned board.

27

Spencer had helped me. Saved, was a bit of a dramatic term as I had not been truly dying yet, but he had helped me. I know that we agreed to still be there for each other, but given those same circumstances I would have gladly let my former boyfriend drown.

Maybe then he would not consume every one of my waking thoughts.

No! It was worse than that. I often dreamed of him as well.

I grip my board and clench my jaw. Not for the first time since we broke up a month ago, I was grateful that I have never been able to hear because I was sure he had sensed my aggravated demeanor and was swimming toward me.

I paddled back toward the rest of our group as quickly as the choppy water would allow and it hurt.

Not the water. Turning my back like that.

But I wanted him to hate me because maybe then he would stop being nice to me.

Maybe next time he would hate me enough to let me drown.

So I would make that sacrifice.

I would be a jerk. Be annoyed and dismissive if it allowed him to get over what we were. If I had to look at his gorgeous and kind face angled at me like he cared one more time my resolve would crumble.

It would make it all worthless: the pain that we had both suffered for the last month, him stretching himself thin to keep his full attention on his scholarship and our relationship simultaneously. I could not ask him to risk something as important as his future for me.

If the price for his eventual happiness and success was a few months of broken hearts and feigned hatred then I would gladly be the rudest ex-girlfriend on the face of the earth. Even if it killed me.

Yeah, I may be attending my own funeral sooner than expected.

28

Against Time Alyssa Olivas

Times Up Harmony Martinez

29

Ice Cold Expression Carlos Saucedo

The Weighing of the Heart Caroline Madrid

Motionless Gabriel McElhanon

30

PAIN "I chose my path, you chose the way of a hero. And they found you amusing for a while, the people of this city. But the one thing they love more than a hero is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying.

In spite of everything you've done for them, eventually they will hate you. Why bother?

~Green Goblin 31

"trapped" i feel trapped i sat there counting the years counting the days until i could finally leave but i didn’t i stayed barely remember now it’s easier to just forget to shut down but you’re still there

Victim 36x60 Robert Willits

i sit in silence you tell me i’m disrespectful how? show any emotion and i’m just being sensitive you’re right i’m wrong got it people have it worse you tell me i don’t have a reason to cry you treat me like i’m stupid i’m not i knew people knew but nobody does anything now you can't even bear to spend time with me you cry to me tell me how much you messed up and i feel guilty and apologize for nothing but you do it again and again and again and you wonder why i won’t talk to you you’re the adult i'm just a kid but it's better now mostly not at all how is it fair? it’s fine i’m fine i only remember the feeling but i’m still here counting waiting just a few more months then i’m free but i won't leave i’ll stay

32

Eclipse

Nathan Mathews

Head in the Clouds Ax Lujan

The weather reflects my mood today.

My mind runs in every shade of gray And the sky reflects them back at me.

My limbs are near lifeless.

Pale and purple and free of warmth, As if sucked dry by the desperate wind that rattles the window panes, And my thoughts are like the endless cloud, Laying dauntingly over the city, Threatening to break open but never do.

The only remedy buried behind layers and layers of empty promises.

33

May 22

Ax Lujan

Summer winters A stretch of time between plans Spent alone in the dark with your thoughts Air conditioning freezes the tears to your pillow

"Hidden Demise" Sharyna De Castro

Four blankets piled up Thin enough to see the outline of your bones Aching inside from an empty space branded “hope” And the sun hidden behind two vaporous mountains of dry deceit Sombering the cool evening breeze Covering the landscape with undertones of your mindset You nearly crack from the dryness of it all Soft breaths leak out of your mouth like smoke Easily seen but rarely heard

Blind Girl

Julie Gonzales

34

"On Its Own"

Isabella Sanchez

"No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn" ~ Hal Borland 35

"The Pain"

Mykel Torres

"Gone and Still Here" Emma Ortega

They did not tell me it hurt like this The kind that you don’t see coming No one warned me About the heartbreak we experience with friends But hurts so bad while it’s happening.

Train or knife Where are all the albums I thought It all ends the same There were no songs sung for it Friend or lover I could not find the hymns It all ends the same Or read the books dedicated to writing the grief That pain is something unlike any other We fall into when friends leave And just when I think it’s gone, It is the type of heartache that doesn’t hit you like a It’s still here train It’s a knife slowly piercing into your skin

36

I Told You So

"Death" Julie Gonzales

Serafina Apodaca Don’t say it, Don’t say those 4 little words.

I can tell it’s what you’re thinking, But seriously, I don’t want to hear it.

She left, I know, You were able to predict it.

You were right, you are always right.

Is that what you want to hear?

Are you looking for praise on your correct assumption?

Are you assuming that I will thank you for your warning?

Do you want me to kneel down and kiss your feet?

Are you really asking for that while I’m standing here crying?

I am sobbing and you are applauding, I am grieving the loss of my mother,

But you, you couldn’t care less.

So please don’t say it, So thank you, thank you so much for the forewarning.

At this moment in time Thank you for “caring” about my feelings. it is the last thing I could See, you anticipated her leaving, ever need.

But apparently you can’t anticipate my sorrow.

Please, don’t say I told You are supposed to be my rock, you so.

The person I turn to for comfort.

But, at the moment you are just another obstacle I have to avoid, Another person asking me questions I have to dodge.

I am swerving away from your prideful smirl, It is just too daunting.

37

Night Prayer Emma Ortega

"Agony"

When I was younger The thought of staying up late excited me I felt like a big kid Staying up past my bedtime and having fun.

Now, I can’t imagine anything worse Laying down alone Alone with my own thoughts The world so quiet My mind so loud I try and distract myself from all the things I haven’t done Did I turn in my work?

What was that thing I had to do?

Is he still upset with me?

What’s wrong with me?

My chest is moving up and down Like a child on a trampoline Oh, how I miss those days The days where I didn’t have a care in the world.

My only concerns were What kind of juice box do I want?

How should I do my hair today?

Mom, will you buy this toy for me?

Night’s have become my hell They’ve become something I dread with my whole being All I can do is pray that they go by fast.

Julie Gonzales

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"Grieving" Julie Gonzales

"Grief is just love with no place to go" ~ Jamie Anderson

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Pretty Enough Abigail Rael

"Hypnotic"

Alyssa Olivas

40

Pretty enough?

That’s something I’m always wondering Does my hair look cute enough?

Does my makeup look good enough, is it too much?

What do I wear?

It has to be flattering but it can’t look like I’m putting myself out there for everyone.

Is my stomach thin enough?

My arms have too much muscle?

Are my legs muscular enough?

Are my hips big enough?

Is my butt round enough?

Are my teeth straight enough?

Skin clear enough?

I have to look good but I can’t look like I put too much effort into how I look because that isn’t natural.

Fake is what everyone will see.

But how do you look pretty but not put any effort into it?

What is pretty enough?

Is it just something we make up?

Who decided what pretty enough is?

Will I ever be pretty enough?

"Anxiety" Angelina Acosta

"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom" ~ Søren Kierkegaard 41

"Overwhelmed-fountain pen ink" Angelina Acosta

"Self-destruction colored pencil" Angelina Acosta

42

Temporary Misery

"Everyone is Judging You" Grace Aragon

43

14 years That’s how long he’s struggled Moving here to there He has friends And then he doesn’t Because nothing is permanent At least for him He’s become accustomed to this, But now there is desperation Hopeful phone calls, Where it keeps ringing Job interviews that never hire Friends that break their promises He’s sleeping wherever he can On a bare mattress with no blanket On a dirty couch On a makeshift cot In a cold, dark room He wants to escape his misery But where?

He’s running from his problems, But who can be sure they won’t follow?

It doesn’t matter He has no passport and no money Always tired, Always starving, But he can afford coffee- that’s only 50 cent He sits alone People drag their chairs away from him But do not worry What they say his true, And everyone knows it He will be put out of his misery soon

Did You Even Leave at All? Derek Mondala My forehead pressed against the ice-cold window pane, shielded by my thick hood, as I inhaled more of the unclean smell that filled my tiny one-room apartment. Dirty clothes were strewn across my cheap furniture and dishes overflowed out of the sink onto the counter. A prayer for help escaped my lips in a continuous murmur. I rubbed my hands as if washing them with water in a feeble attempt to warm myself up. Even with all the windows closed, the cold air passed through the walls as if there weren’t even there. I stared at the continuously falling snow outside as it settled on my sad excuse of a front lawn. My eyes shifted focus to my reflection in the window where my dreary, sunken eyes and greasy hair were on display.

The quiet scene allowed me to reminisce about my childhood. My own parents shoved nonsense in my head every day, taking me to “religious” meetings where I was subjected to psychic bombardment from their ridiculous lessons of the “true” creator and denouncements of documented history. The “Solosis” they called themselves, I can still recite their prayers even to this day.

They robbed me of whatever normal childhood I could’ve had. They isolated me and made me alien to the rest of society. Fear ran throughout my body and my eyes started to burn with resentment. I calmed down by reassuring myself that they couldn’t touch me anymore.

I berated myself for losing to my feelings again and got up from my chair so that I could collapse onto my couch. I tossed the wrinkled shirts aside and was about to let gravity take me but the chime of the doorbell caught my attention. I dragged my feet toward the door and cracked the door open to see who it was. My whole body shivered in realization as I saw that they had finally tracked me down.

I grasped at the doorknob tightly and readied myself for the confrontation. They were never going to leave me be if I don’t make it clear that I don’t want anything to do with them anymore. I cracked the door open, “Get off my property”, I demanded.

A familiar voice rang loudly on the other side of the door, “Now, now calm down. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

Kennedy, one of the leaders that founded Solosis and made my parents join in the first place. A thin, tall man with sharp eyes that could fake any emotion perfectly. I have only ever seen him wearing long funeral suits with his tie loose and barely showing through his trench coat. Despite his looks, he had quite a way of using words to get what he wanted or to uncover secrets.

“Hey, I know it’s been hard ever since you’ve been on your own” he continued. “I know how it feels but there are people who can support you, I can support you. You don’t have to bear it alone anymore.”

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I argued back, “What makes you think I would ever go back? I’ve been doing better on my own ever since I cut you all out.”

Kennedy scoffed, “Doing fine? Look at where you live. Look at how dirty you are. Can you even interact normally with other people?”

He was right. I turned to look at the trash-filled room where I made my living in.

I’ve been barely living anymore. I don’t know how much longer I could take until I shatter completely. At that moment of realization, my grip on the doorknob became loose. Kennedy took notice and shoved his way in.

He looked around and I knew he was mocking me in his head. “Is this what you call ‘doing better’?” He turned to make eye contact with his eyes feigning sympathy. “Come back to us,” Kennedy said. “Come back to us and you’ll be needed again, you’ll be part of a family again.” He pleaded, “Take my hand and I’ll save you from your disgusting home and disgusting life.”

He stared at me as if I were the only person in the world. I wanted him to leave and never come back but his words made me doubt myself. Even if I hated Solosis, they were the only people to ever be a real part of my life right? Right? I could finally be in a warm house again full of people who would accept me. My conflicting thoughts and emotions whirled about inside me. Time stood still and his ever-inviting hand was still stretched out, waiting for me to make my decision. I decided that I wanted to escape from my current life so I took his hand and grasped it firmly. A smile full of satisfaction formed on Kennedy’s face, “Good choice.”

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"Self"

Grace Aragon

My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself - Anonymous

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"Aftermath" Ax Lujan The cotton candy phone case, Drowning in the pastel pool of jeans.

Distressed.

Fallen, frayed honey hairs scattered from stress, Stress causing creases on the tightly wrapped peaches and cream skin, Skin sinking under the pressure.

And the eyes, Chocolate kisses, Caving down into shopping bags about to rip.

Loaded buckets of ocean water, Because as a child, one believes they can move monuments With nothing but a plastic pail.

She failed.

But the souvenir stuck up under her eyes.

"Conflicting Emotions" Angelina Acosta

47

"Failure"

Brianna Lucero-Brown

Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.

- Henry Ford

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1996

Ethan Hernandez

Since 1996 we’ve all felt the pain year after year.

We’re the 1 seed, loss, We’ve got the best offense, loss, We’ve got the best defense, loss, We’ve got the best overall team, loss, It’s our year, loss.

Why do we stick with this team?

Is it because we are always tricked into thinking we are going to win?

Is it because we are delusional?

Is it because we are the most valuable team? No, it’s because we want 1996 back.

I wasn’t born in the 90’s or before, but I’ve still seen the clips, the highlights, the end goal, and I want to live in a modern day 1996.

I’m holding a beautiful trophy.

I can feel all the previous players who have held the same type of trophy and the historical feeling of it.

It’s warm, it's comforting, all the hard work I’ve done to live in this very moment.

I look at the trophy, I look at the beautiful silver football on the very top of the trophy.

I put my hands in between the seams like I’m holding a football, and I lift it up to the sky to show the universe what we have accomplished.

Suddenly I woke up, I was dreaming.

This is what we all have to go through, the thought of holding the beautiful trophy that 31 other teams go after.

We have to envision the end goal, We’re the ones who always believe in the team year in and year out, We are the ones who after the game, are filled with complete disappointment.

We aren’t being paid millions of dollars to hold the beautiful trophy.

Why do we stick with this team then?

Why do we keep believing we will win one day?

Why do we stick with the team that makes little children cry and adults rage?

Because we want to live in 1996 again.

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"Obscurity"

Brianna Lucero-Brown

"Things are more beautiful when they're obscure" ~ Veda Hille

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Lovecoach Sanaa Givens Mimi ~ I am dead. No, not literally dead, but my heart is pounding so violently that I believe it's closer to vibrating than beating. The back of my neck prickles uncomfortably and my cheeks sting. That must mean I am dead. Right?

Something in my stomach sloshes around, and in the most unattractive way, I have a violent urge to throw up all over his letterman jacket. That would be humiliating. More so than the current blabbering that I am doing about, of all possible subjects, Astrobiology.

“Before the human race can hope to venture into the discovery of ‘other worldly’ species, we first need to understand the origins of constellations and environmental interactions.

And yes, those two subjects do play into one another. Did you know—?”

“Dude!” my friend orders, clamping one hand over my mouth. “Seriously?” His force is unnecessary and I bite one of his fingers, causing him to reel back.

“What the heck, Mimi?!” he growls, nursing his injured appendage.

“Me?” I demand, scowling. “What kind of a person forcefully shuts up their best friend, Will?”

“A smart person. One who cares enough about their best friend to shut them up when they start babbling about extraterrestrial possibilities and the environment.” He sighs before continuing. “You cannot do that to Zach tomorrow. The guy is an idiot and his eyes will bleed if your mouth opens spewing all of that intellectual stuff. On a first date, no less.”

The weird feeling in my stomach returns as his features soften and I am only willing to call it anger. It feels suspiciously like nerves, but that would make no sense. Why would I be nervous with Will? Maybe all this talk about Zach has got my heart all fluttery and ridiculous.

“Try again,” he says. I groan. We had been going at this dumb role-playing exercise for over half an hour. If I have to practice what to say to Zach on our coffee date one more time I am going to have an aneurysm. I refuse to discuss the blistering weather or why my middle name is Candice or how many sugar packets I enjoy in my coffee one more freaking time.

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“Do not look at me like that, Mimi,” Will scolds. His green eyes look adorable when he is annoyed. Not that it matters, it is only a mindless observation on my part, of course.

“Now, let’s start again.” He straightens before donning his Dumb-Zach smile again.

“Hey, Mimi.”

“Hi, Zach.”

“What do you like to do in your free time?”

“I—This is stupid! I am just going to go on the date!”

Will raises an eyebrow. “And what if he tries to kiss you? Are you going to talk his lips off with galactic commentary?” He smirks.

“Maybe I will,” I say. I knew I wouldn't, but if it wiped that smile off of Will’s face then I would have to try.

Will ~ I am not religious, but I am praying right now.

Praying that she does ramble on about something, anything that makes Zach’s head spin tomorrow. Anything that would ruin that date because I am hoping, praying, that she does not kiss him. Why? I am not quite ready to address that question, but I just know that they are not allowed to kiss each other. Ever.

So please, God? Please, do not allow Mimi to kiss Zach tomorrow.

Um...Amen.

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"The Ones Who Forget" Gabriel McElhanon

What do you think about when it comes to poverty?

Do you think about their living conditions?

Do you think about how they go through their day?

Do you even think about how they feel?

Maybe some of us do, but the rest of us wouldn’t care.

Wouldn’t care, you ask?

Almost everyone says “Yeah, I feel bad for the poor” and “Sure I’ll donate!”

Yet when you see them on the street begging for food or money, you’re probably thinking ‘thank God I’m not one of them’.

In fact, nowadays we don’t care much about the poor anymore.

We care about money.

About how we will get through our day.

About how we will get our food.

About how we are feeling.

All of a sudden we became so selfish about ourselves in order to survive and stopped caring about the ones who are in need.

And as I’m saying this, you might be agreeing with me.

But 1 minute later you’re gonna forget all that is said.

That’s the sad part.

We listen, we agree, then forget.

"Silence" Grace Aragon

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Psychotic

Joshua Robbins

"Wounded Vampire" Derek Mondala

Control was taken from me I couldn’t do anything but watch as I approached her I dropped to my knees Presenting my entire being on a platter She grasped my shoulders; Breaking them And brought me closer

I saw her lying there in the dark The light flickered over her body The body covered in blood Her upper body rose slowly The flickering light revealed herself to me Her hair shining gold her eyes; blood red gems with the same luster Despite the state she was in It set an air of distinction all around her The alluring sculpture of her face exuded confidence and tenacity She noticed me, Focused on me like a beast hunting their prey Those celestial gems pierced my soul She commanded, “Offer yourself to me” Her words rang through every corridor of my body I tried to run away Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run But my body moved involuntarily Slowly inching towards her

She pushed my head aside Exposing my neck Her mouth latched onto it Two large needles pierced my skin Extracting my blood Pain flowed throughout my body My limbs became numb Once she finished, she let me crash to the ground And disappeared into the dark My body was ignoring my commands to get up My grip on reality became slippery The world’s shape began to melt before me All that I had ever lived for ended in these few minutes She directed my fate into being nothing more than food for her All in a single sentence

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A weight of despair crushed my soul The world faded into nothing All I had left in me was to weep

Chile Elena Sutulov 1 Home for me food name for others 2 How is it, a lot ask to me and i think 3 En la cordillera de los andes , 4 Marraquetas but especially in my family 5 But maybe if you ask others they will answer you 6 A country with amazing nature but crazy people 7 Maybe because of our food or for the personality that we share 8 For me that’s my people and when I hear them I hear my “accent” 9 But over there its not a “accent “ is just the way we talk 10 Nobody asks me “where are you from” they just treat me 11 Like me . Why I am always different here ! and someone says 12 you are not “american “ and I said “ I am “!

13 Because America is a continent not a country 14 This country is called United States ! Not AMERICA! 15 But you are not latina you are white .Yes I am !

16 We don’t all look the same ,nobody said we did .

17 Yes I almost don't have native blood 18 But that doesn't mean I wasn't born in CHILE !

19 I feel the pressure in this country because here 20 Here I represent a country ,a culture not just a person.

55

Family Sanaa Givens Carter was horrified.

Nothing terrified him, the entire world knew that, but at this moment he wished for nothing more than to curl into a ball and retreat to the other side of the planet.

“You are in shock, Enya,” he tried to reason with his sister again. His attempt was futile as she had stopped listening to him over a decade ago. But then, it had been for sneaking out after dark or speeding down the highway.

Now, it was worse. She hated him. Every ounce of oxygen that occupied his lungs was an insult to her As though he was the one that had ruined her life and not the other way around.

“In shock?” Enya cackled. Carter shivered at the way her voice grated down his spine.

Run, a voice in his head pleaded. That voice, he decided to call his “will to live,” would have to wait.

“Why would I possibly be in shock, Carter?” she asked, tilting her head. Her dark hair spilled over her right shoulder. Right over the patch that Carter knew, at one point, had held the money she had stolen.

From their company, no less.

Enya was older than him by nearly half a decade, but she acted like an overgrown toddler most days. All because she couldn't let the past go. That realization stung something in Carter’s chest, but he brushed it off. Things like regret and sentimentality had no place in their family.

They never had.

“Perhaps you expect me to be worried about my upcoming imprisonment? Or your frequent betrayals? Truly, Carter, both things were hardly phenomenons. And nowhere near detrimental enough to send me into a state of shock.”

56

Enya straightened the sleeves of her dark pantsuit and crossed her legs beneath her oak desk. She pulled a tan folder toward her and waved her manicured fingers toward the door, signaling him to leave.

Carter’s head swam.

“My betrayals, Enya? You cannot possibly blame our situation on me.”

She hated him, and now, he was done.

“You embezzled funds!” His voice rose, just barely. “You embezzled funds. You ripped off your loan sharks. You will go to prison for that, not me.”

She blinked at him. One. Twice.

Her face was blank. The only emotion he could ever twist from her was loathing for him.

“You are done, brother. Get out of my office.”

Yes, he was done. Done with fighting the entire world to keep Enya’s head above water.

His mother had made him promise years ago that he would look out for his obstinate sister, but he could no longer fight for her.

They were done.

57

A Lonely Night Carlos Saucedo

One lonely night, that's all it takes to completely break you.

- Anonymous

58

REVENGE "You break the rules and become a hero.

I do it and I become the enemy.

That doesn't seem fair." ~ The Scarlet Witch

59

Faux Art Noah Faux

Noah Faux

60

The Revenge James Lockhart

Once there was a hero named Marcus who was known for his bravery and sense of justice. He had always stood up for what was right and fought against evil, using his superhuman strength and incredible abilities to protect his city and its people. He lived a simple life despite his great talents, focused on his true love and their three children; Colt, Dara, and the baby Harry.

Marcus had made a promise to his father the night before he had died: he would never sacrifice time with his family for the needs of others just because he had abilities. He had spent his life trying to keep this promise, though sometimes he had to battle the overwhelming pull of people in need.

One day, however, everything changed. Dark Shadow appeared, threatening to destroy everything that Marcus held dear. In a fierce battle, his city was knocked down like a house of cards. Most of the people fled at the beginning, making camp at the edge of the city, trusting that Marcus would be victorious and save them all. The battle went on for days, but Marcus was able to defeat Dark Shadow and save the people, but in the process, he lost the most important thing to him— his family. While he was able to locate most of the people in the city, some had scattered and took time to return to the city, others left forever. With each passing day, he would ask those who returned if they had seen his family, see where they had run to, see if they were still alive.

However, the answer was always the same; no one had seen them. The general belief of the people was that they were killed in the first attack.

Dark Shadow had been working with a powerful organization of villains, and they had targeted Marcus specifically because they knew that he would do anything to protect his beloved city and family. But was there another reason? Marcus was consumed with grief and rage. He would leave the city unprotected for days, hiding for days in the deepest parts of the surrounding forest. The only sign of him would be the circling birds in the sky.

After months of searching and reflecting, Marcus was determined to seek revenge on those who had taken his family from him. Marcus left the city and began a quest to track down the members of the villainous organization. He used all of his skills and resources to find them one by one, striking out against them with a ferocity that was fueled by his pain and anger and with no regard for the civilians caught in the crossfire. This was not Marcus, not who he was before.

As he progressed in his quest for vengeance, Marcus began to realize that his actions were leading him down a dangerous path. He was becoming more and more ruthless, and his thirst for revenge was threatening to consume him completely. All these years, his family and his promise to his dad had been the force that kept his power under control. He had not learned this control, it was created by his love for his family. Now, with them gone, Marcus’s powers were in charge, making him the superhuman they intended. Marcus feared that his power’s intentions were more nefarious than he could have ever imagined.

61

After a period of time, Marcus reached the leader of the organization, Ceptor, who had been hiding in a remote location. Initially, the battle was what he sought from Marcus, but after watching Marcus’s powers take hold, he realized that Dark Shadow’s provocation had only strengthened him. In a final confrontation, Marcus faced his nemesis and was able to defeat him, but he also came to a realization. His quest for revenge had not brought him peace or closure - it had only led him further into darkness.

With this understanding, Marcus returned to his city and began to work towards healing and rebuilding what he had lost. He understood that the way to honor his family and his own heroism was not through vengeance, but through compassion and forgiveness. He needed to focus on the love that had kept his powers under control and the memory of his beautiful family would be his guide. He focused on the hope that his family was safe and healthy somewhere and that one day he would be with them again.

Determined to make amends for his actions, Marcus began to work tirelessly to rebuild the city and restore the trust of its people. The months passed and the city began to heal. He was hailed as a hero, not just for his superhuman abilities, but for his compassion and dedication to his community.

One day, as Marcus was repairing the door on the home next to his, he caught sight of a glimmer in the trees next to the property. A familiar man emerged from the crack in the air that was forming. It was his father and behind him followed the warm giggles of his children and the warm smile of his wife. Marcus fell to his knees in shock, how could this be? His father explained that his power was to be able to move through time freely. He had known the attack was coming and he pulled his family through the time crack to protect them. He kept them safe knowing that it was critical that Marcus learn to control his power on his own, rather than relying on the love of his family.

Marcus’s father slipped quietly back through the crack. This was not his time no matter how much he wished it was. Marcus helped his family and took them home. He felt a weight being lifted and he knew the love was carrying part for him. He knew that he had the strength and courage to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And he vowed to never give up his powers again, no matter what he faced.

62

Faux Art

Noah Faux

“Revenge is Always Sweet, it's the Aftertaste that's Bitter.” ~ Anonymous 63

The Night Silenced Sanaa Givens Report Filed: 10 January 2006. Written by: Special Agent Delaney Lane.

Note: Agent Lane enters the interrogation room at 1600 hours.

Lane: “Hello again, Miss. Beckett. I was told that you would only give your full confession to your arresting agent. Why is that?”

Note: Harlow Beckett displays no visible signs of anxiety. No discernable indication of nerves.

Beckett: “Why do you think?”

Lane: “I do not have time to play guessing games with you. Please begin when you are ready.”

Note by Special Agent Delaney Lane: The following statement made by Harlow Christine Beckett concerns sensitive and disturbing information on the happenings during the “Night of Terror'' in Boston, Massachusetts; 6 January 2006. Crime Scene Investigators and government officials have since been dispatched to confirm the claims of the suspect. **Caution: The statement below is not for the viewing public.** Beckett: “Now, you know that I do not reveal the full names of those I have silenced. Only their first initial and where you may find their shell. I do not know precisely where you wish me to begin. I could begin with my childhood, I suppose. My flooded basement where I burned rosemary on a candlewick because my parents were too unconscious and too unemployed to pay the electricity bill and run our stove. I could begin with Marcel’s death. My brother was a sweet kid, sure, but as annoying as a cricket in a cemetery. When I was— oh I do not remember. He was ten so I must have been fifteen. His voice was too much to bear and so I removed it. People say I hurt him, but I did not. That is a lie. All I did was shut him up. Remove his annoying little voice box and toss it into the neighbor’s garbage disposal the next morning before my classes. Would that suffice as a beginning to my confession, Agent Lane? The first time someone died because of me. Would you rather I skip ahead to this past January? Yes— that is what you feds wish to discuss

64

anyway. Very well, I will humor you. In truth, A. Wrigley was an accident. He was merely the victim of his own overactive testosterone. I believe that continuing to flirt with someone after they have already walked away is— how should I say this? Tactless. Like Marcel, his voice began to grate at my mind. You see, my mind? It hates voices. High-pitched, gravely, anything.

The only way to silence it is to— for lack of a better phrase— silence its owner. A. Wrigley lost his voice that night on the corner of Abbey and Claren. After him, I guess the adrenaline was coursing through my blood and I wanted another voice gone. That was unfortunate for L. Cloud Gate and M. Millennium. And then C. River and O. Ferry. And then I and P Magnificent. Before dawn, the voices in my head had quieted to almost nothing. But still—” Lane: “Wait!”

Agent Lane interrupts the suspect's confession at 1612 hours.

Lane: “That is seven initials and seven locations. We found A. Wrigley or Arthur Donovan at the eastern end of Wrigley Field. We found Lauren Myers perched on a bench near Cloud Gate, Mia Chu in the Millenium Mile, and Carter Mark on the banks of the Chicago River.”

Beckett: “Yes.” Lane: “Who are I and P Magnificent?”

Beckett: “You have not yet found that couple? I am truly disappointed in you, Delaney Lane.”

Lane: “Who are they? Their full names.”

Beckett: “Well, that is your job. Not mine. Good luck, darling. Their bodies will not be there for long. Alas, I wonder if it will be the rats or the rain that chews them up quicker.”

Note: Agent Delaney Lane exits the interrogation room. Harlow Beckett grins.

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Classified

Neil Silver

For sale: Wedding Gown Size six never worn $100 or trade for 38 Special

Think Before Do, It Might Come After You

She stands in the screened porch

James Lockhart

Revolver dangles smoking at her side

Revenge is a bitter brew,

The smell of sulfur recalls

A poison that consumes anew.

Fourth of July at the campground

It's a flame that burns within,

But today the neighbors

A thirst that can't be quenched by gin.

Are running in slow motion

The desire to even the score,

And that son of a gun

To settle the debt and even more.

Isn't moving at all

It whispers sweet nothings in the ear, And fuels the fire of anger and fear.

But revenge is a dangerous game, One that often ends in shame.

It may bring temporary pleasure, But leaves behind a lasting measure.

For once the deed is done, And the battle is finally won, The taste of victory soon fades away, Leaving nothing but regret and dismay.

So if revenge is what you seek, I beg you to take a moment to think.

Is it worth the cost and the pain, Or is forgiveness a more worthy aim?

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Wrath Like Rain Sanaa Givens

The rain was burning.

The sun refused to rise because even it knew that you were gone.

The scorched grass made my knees ache, but I did not move. I deserved the pain for all I had let you endure. With that thought a new wave of tears graced my cheeks. I could not breathe as the blanket of clouds above suffocated me.

“Not you,” I begged the sky.

The world couldn't take you from me. Not again.

“Anything,” I promised. “I will do anything.”

Embers tickled the air and urged me to rise. To face the carnage I had left behind me.

I did not.

I did not care for my victories. For all that I had destroyed in order to find you.

My wail cleaved the sky in two.

“For you! Everything that I did!” I shouted at no one. “Please!”

I had laid cities to burn at your feet. Families torn apart and centuries of history I had demolished. Obliterated for you!

Now, where were you? Simply, gone?

The first time that I lost you it was bearable because it was not your choice. The devils of the world had taken you from me in the dead of night. But this time?

This time you walked away.

You left of your own accord because you saw what I had done. The pieces of my soul that I had gift-wrapped to Death in order to find you. And you could not handle whom I had become.

My mind raced and then I laughed. The raucous nightmare sound, the polar opposite of my pain from only moments before. I was lying to myself.

You were not gone. And you were not taken.

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You had left. Chosen to abandon me out of something as juvenile as your fear.

A part of my heart ached as it wept for you.

Could I live without you? That voice was desperate and broken. That voice needed you. It needed what we used to be.

I refused to let that voice be my own.

And so, that day, I shut it out. That voice and that want.

You had left and it served no purpose to hope for you to return to me.

Instead, you would be treated like a deserter. Like a traitor.

As with all my enemies, you would fall. For your betrayal, for this pain. For it all.

The adoration I carved from my soul for you died that day you abandoned me.

The day you left me to drown in the burning rain of, what used to be, our love.

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Faux Art

Noah Faux

The best revenge is massive success ~ Frank Sinatra

69

The Silence is Loud Juliana Dixon

It felt good to see the last embers die down and the sound of silence. I had done it. I had done what my family called me to do, and it felt exhilarating. I had accomplished everything my family wished they did! Now do you regret trying to drown me, Mother?

Trying to poison me, Father?

I relished in their screams, the slow and steady drip-drip of blood gathering into a pool.

The voices of fear and panic. The world was mine, and I could take anyone for granted.

They begged for mercy, but I had none to give. They offered me servitude, but everyone knows the key to the success of world domination was to completely isolate themselves.

You cannot bond with someone who will convince you otherwise.

So I killed him, I killed her, I killed all of them.

Taking one last look over my shoulder, I slipped into the peaceful river. The water was bitterly cold, but I hardly felt it. I watched the water stain itself red, clouds of it billowing around me. Who knew mass murder could be so dirty?

Usually, you hear stories of the villain accomplishing something, and immediately enveloping themselves in regret or self-pity. Not me. The silence was wonderful, and the fires burned comfortingly.

Was it bad that I just wanted something good for myself, just once? They call me psycho, and I wear the label on my chest with pride.

Squeezing the water out of my hair I sat on the riverbank and gazed at my destruction.

It was supposed to be glorious. But to me, it felt underwhelming. Sure, the shouting, desperation, and needless sacrificing of the so-called heroes were riveting, but was the final outcome impressive?

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Absolutely not. However, did I set out and reach the goal I had planned out with careful consideration and calculative ness? Yes. So that’s all that mattered to me. Imagine the history books….the ‘villain’ wins against the good guys, who were never good enough to defeat a singular person and were never “good” to begin with.

Oh, right. There are no historians to write them. I pondered this for a minute, a prickling anxiety building in the back of my mind. Well, I’ll just write it then. Problem solved. The other voice argued back, who will read it though? I stood up, unsettled by my own thoughts. What is WRONG with you? You’re not supposed to care about others…where did this come from? I stopped by the nearest body, lying face down and covered in mud.

I cringed, not out of sympathy but out of disgust. I rolled the body over and turned the face toward me. The eyes were unseeing, the face expressionless, the mouth unmoving, not even a little sneer in my direction. Dull and boring. I liked it better when he was screaming.

“I remember you. You said I deserved everything bad to happen to me. Now look where we are. I’d rather be in your position.” I sighed, shoving the body away carelessly.

Solitary was good, right? Everyone was gone, no one to aggravate you. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, however, I wanted. Stop it. You’re gonna go insane if you keep thinking like this. What are you going to do, resurrect everyone? Shut UP, you idiot! I straightened my back.

“Well, what should I do? Rob a bank? That was child’s play. I’ve already done everything. I got my wish. What else is there to do?” I questioned myself.

The emptiness was stark, and the silence was getting louder.

I got on my knees and kneeled at a woman who was on her side, face still tearstained, but the other half that was on the ground was bloody and broken. There was a knife sticking out of her side and my eyes gleamed.

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“Scuse me, may I borrow this?”I asked mockingly, sliding the knife carefully out between the bones in her rib.

I took it in my hand and saw my reflection. The villain dies, doesn’t she? She’s supposed to collapse and beg for forgiveness at the feet of the citizen’s savior. But there was no savior. I won. Do I get to live? Do I WANT to live? I gripped the knife harder. Silence did have a sound– it was something between a roll of thunder and a heartbeat without being either of those things.

The rhythm of it beat faster as I ran thoughts through my head.

There is a reason villains are supposed to die, get defeated, captured.

I was no different. But to die at my own hand? Cowardly! I put down the knife. No. I’m not going to pity myself and quit everything I’ve worked to undo. What’s done is done. I have to live with it and I WILL. Pointless and stupid for making me feel insecure…

Before I could even turn, before I could even draw another breath, someone had picked up the knife I threw to the side and plunged it into my back. Taking a sputtering gasp, I tried turning my head to see my hero. My hero. There it was, my defeat. The historians all write about it, and still, stories say that good conquers evil. I can tell you in that moment, that is not true.

Silence conquers evil. It sneaks up on you and drives a knife into your throat to steal your voice away and choke out all your foolish ideas and reasoning.

“Here’s your wish” I smiled as she yanked it out and slit my throat.

72

Damien the Dragon Evangelynn Cruz

"I'd killed him in the end, but revenge only makes things all better in the movies...

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Faux Art Noah Faux

...In real life, once the villain is dead the trauma lives on inside the victims." ~ Laurell K. Hamilton 74

Zias Stephen Armijo FBI Agent Case number 30624. Evidence Tag 10. Recording as follows.

Lara I am leaving this last post to… I don’t know… let people know what… or maybe where I am. If I have disappeared, that is… I don’t know, I am probably crazy, but then again I have never been more sure of something in my life.

Like you know that feeling of ultimate clarity, like this is where I am supposed to be, what I am supposed to be doing, whom I am supposed to be, this feels like that… but what if… never mind.

I am currently on my way to a mesa, somewhere near Shiprock.

Something awaits me there… and I am excited and scared… and…

Static When this started, I was doing my Ph.D. in Astrophysics at Eastern New Mexico University. I was working on finding new stars… Easy to do with new telescopes and technology… I was up late working on my dissertation when I saw it… a weird pattern of stars… bright stars… A Red Giant with four smaller stars nearby. I checked the earlier time logs of this quadrant, and yet, nothing, but today something… I tried to zoom in, but they were gone. The next night, the same thing happened.

The same four stars reappeared, brighter than before.

This would be huge, these stars were close to our solar system. I checked and rechecked star records and nothing…

Night after night the same stars appeared…. I would see fellow students look over these same star charts and yet… nothing. No reaction. None of my peers. None of my professors. No one even noticed these stars. Which burned brighter and brighter night after night….

I was walking to class when I saw them. Zias… Zias in the same pattern right in the library. I stood looking at them, and when I blinked, hours had gone by.

I don’t know what is happening to me.

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I began to see the pattern everywhere. The same stars over and over again and again. In droplets on a window. Cups on a table. Flowers in a field. Over and over and over again.

Till finally one night on the horizon I saw them.

My zias… these suns… they seem so close and yet so far…

I got in my car and drove all night toward them… and well here I am…

I want everyone to see this… I hope you start to see it. It is so wonderful. So… Static Lara sounds more haggard.

It has been days… or rather nights, the sun has not risen for… a long time. But my zias, my stars, their red glow lights my path. I am sure I can find my way off this mesa, but every time I feel like I am getting close, I am back in the middle.

I lie in the middle of the mesa and look up at the stars. They are close… the red giant, I feel as if it stares at me…

The groan of something whale like, followed by static, screams, and horrific noises.

Static FBI Agent This tape was found near a body on a mesa in Northern New Mexico. The body lay in carefully cut pieces, in a strange pattern directly in the center of the mesa. In addition to the dismemberment, the head was positioned upward, the victim’s eyes seemingly burned out of their skull.

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Mr. Keleher Tommy Valdez

"Revenge is best when it arrives on its knees" ~ Mr. Keleher

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Just Puppy Love Sanaa Givens There is a reason it is named a crush.

And those stupid movies lie.

It is not butterflies in my gut.

More like irrepressible little devils.

Suffering should be pain.

It should be anxiety. Tragedy.

Instead, suffering? It was laughter.

Teasing. Friendship.

Suffering was you.

The irreplaceable, infuriating you.

God forbid, I capsize because of you.

In truth, I would rather you tell me that you hate me.

Your indifference erodes my brain.

Almost as much as your grin when I am not its cause.

My hands do not sweat. Instead, my vision goes blurry.

My breath does not catch, but my heart pounds.

Maybe it is because I am finally used to it. Half a decade of you.

I hope this crushes you.

Destroys you.

Those little demons in your belly, grating your gut with my presence.

My smiles.

My indifference.

I hope this crushes you.

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Derek Mondala

Gabe McElhanon

James Lockhart

Our Heroes

a g e t r O a m m E

Sanaa Givens

Ax Lujan

Our Villains Julie Dixon

Carlos Saucedo