The Mountain Mirror - St. Andrew's-Sewanee School Literary Magazine 2020

The Mountain Mirror

St. Andrew’s-Sewanee School 2020

The Mountain Mirror Saint Andrew’s-Sewanee School Staff: Mary Ming Lynch, Nick Palagi, Ally Syler, Mia Val Faculty Sponsor: Kinion Pond Cover Art by Elliott Benson Spring 2020

Table of Contents Poetry Child, Luciana Mollica Capturing Memories from Home, Cady Layne Sunny Days, Fiona Reynolds Fat Kitty Episode 2, Jackson Frazier Perfect Weather, Kieran McCrorey Nightly Wonders, Isaiah Gilliam Reference of Ears, Nick Palagi Salah Xiaoyang Gong, translated by Mr. Murphy Rollercoaster, Reese Michaels

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Prose Wikipedia Story, N’Delaya Lewis How to Tell Stories Like a Rock Face, Luciana Mollica The Closing Chapter, Van Carlton Shanahan

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Art Cecilia Schutz Amelia Pond Mary Ming Lynch Mia Val Laura Crigger Zolon Knoll Lucy Carroll Charlie Barron Emma Blount Melanie Val Katie Finn Hurst Namtso Norbu

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Child Luciana Mollica Children speak such simple words with voices that are hauntingly beautiful.

Children are fragile like the frail beating wings of the gentle butterfly.

Butterflies see the world with wondrous eyes, viewing all the colors that we bypass.

This is like the child who asks questions about all the beauty that we overlook.

Children tilt their heads in curiosity, like wheat blowing sideways in the wind, or the blue-eyed bull cocking his head at you.

The gaze of a child is mysterious, as they see more in you than you see in yourself.

Children fill their new and precious hands with the Earth, loving it more than anyone, as if they are a mirror image of God.

Cecelia Schutz

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Wikipedia Story N’Delaya Lewis As a kid, I’d strive to continuously find ways to prove magic was true. As you could probably assume, I was rejected by my friends and family, and as I got older, I was deemed intolerable and crazy. Though, as I got older, the feeling got stronger. I had to prove that I wasn’t crazy, it actually became an obsession of mine. Until one day, I found it, something to prove my innocence.

It was the night of my 18th birthday and my mom bought me my favorite books, except this time they were first edition and signed. The Train of Dreams by William Norberry was the story I lived on. The stories and tales of magic in the real world, the lives of creatures you could never imagine. Arguably, you can say this is the reason I'm so into this idea of magic; it was what I was raised on since I could formulate sentences. So, I was happy beyond that even. I immediately dove into the books, gathering a big comfy blanket, and snacks, I began my journey.

“Do you like it?” My mom said softly rubbing my unruly hair out of my face. She knew I loved the gift she gave me, that’s all I ever wanted. Looking up, I nodded before going back to the book.

Hours passed and it was no longer my birthday, though my mom swore it was. My mom went to bed and it was just me. I knew if I stayed there any longer I'd be there all night withering away between the lines of my favorite world, Pilloria. Pilloria was a place where magical creatures resided, they lived and loved there. It was also the place I’ve wanted to go with who I deemed my best friend in this world, Quinn. Like me, Q was another

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teenager in love with other worlds that he couldn’t travel to. He was quite disappointed with his though. I, on the other hand, was really jealous of him. He had powers, I mean what more could a girl ask for?

I suppressed a yawn and looked at the clock that was ticking away quietly, “Whoa, it's almost 3:00,” I whispered to myself quietly. I’d been here since 10:00 p.m. when we opened my presents. Having read enough, I headed to my room, getting in my safe haven of comfort before I closed my eyes for the night.

Noise, whispering, and heavy steps.

My heart began to beat unnaturally fast and I slowly opened my eyes, hoping the noise was coming from outside of my room. I was right, the silhouette of the intruder was standing in front of my room, pacing.

Unknowingly, I had already grabbed my weapon I have in case of emergencies, Hot Sauce. Hot Sauce was a christmas gift that my Pa gave to me when I was 11. He started working more then, his idea was that if he couldn’t protect me, Hot Sauce could. Since then it’s just been me, Hotty, and my books.

Placing a hand on my heart, I took a step towards my door, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards my father swore he’d replace when he came home next week.

Whipping open the door, I met the face of someone I only hoped I'd get to meet, but seeing as the place is “made up” I'd never have the chance.

Standing there in all his glory was Q. He was nervously muttering, something I had come to love about his character.

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“Q?” I said not believing my eyes. His head snapped up, his eyes filling with what looked like relief. I was confused.

“Come on! What’s taking you so long? The train's waiting!” with that Q, who I thought was my fictional best friend, grabbed my hand and sprinted through my house; without hesitation, he headed towards the direction of the city.

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Capturing Memories From Home Cady Layne Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours.

Im sitting in the creaky desk chair of my chaotic yet organized desk.

My writing utensils are arranged in their own containers.

My colorful, scented candles stand side by side making their own remarkable scent.

Then there’s the mirror, the black, circle shaped mirror with four, gold, fake, starfish on the sides.

Drawings, phrases, and nicknames are all written in sharpie on the mirror, incredible memories of the good times.

My desk really does feel like home.

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Amelia Pond

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Sunny Days Fiona Reynolds Friends are like food.

Tasty, bland, or nasty.

You need a friend that cares not just about you, but about other people too.

A good friend shields your emotions from a bad storm.

The lightning is crackling underneath your skin, thunder bringing in some bad frights.

Eventually, the rain pours down once more, and the storm stops.

You and your friend dance in the puddles, ever so happy for sunlight!

Another problem solved even though so much more come into place on the Adventure of Life with friends.

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Mary Ming Lynch

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Mia Val

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Fat Kitty Episode 2 Jackson Frazier He scurries across the yard at unbelievable speed, his fat jiggles as if an atomic bomb had gone off inside his large frame.

He stops his fun for a minute, and hobbles over to me.

He screams his little heart out, aching for a chance at a meal.

I pour the small masses made of meat, poultry, fish, and other nutritional morsels into his shiny silver dish.

He devours it, then scampers away, with each individual wrinkle flapping against his body, and making sounds of nuclear warfare.

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Laura Crigger

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Perfect Weather Kieran McCrorey Few days in the year are as perfect as this: About 70 degrees, overcast, but not rainy or humid.

Fall leaves dance to the ground, enveloping you in their rich colors, then crunch beneath your feet.

The forest buzzes with discovery and new adventures At night, the gentle breeze sings its symphony.

The moonlight shines unto you through the open windows.

The sweet smell of night wafts into the bedroom.

Peace.

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Nightly Wonders Isaiah Gilliam It Patiently watches from the cloudy sky, Prowling like a lion in the grass.

Waiting eagerly for its time to pounce and show the world its wonder DING-DONG-DING-DONG The clock strikes 7.

The darkness eagerly leaps out of the sky, Confused why most don’t endulge in the light of their lavishing moon.

The creatures of the day cease to wake, and the workers of the night arise.

The world becomes silent except the hooting of an owl and the sound of delicate crickets dancing a jig, While we lay our heads down.

Humans long for light, and look at darkness as malicious and bad.

There are creatures then too, like bats in the sky, and the elegant fox hunting.

Venture out and explore.

Get rid of the misconception that all there will hurt you, the only true harm is the beast of a conscious mind.

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Zolon Knoll

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Lucy Carroll

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How to Tell Stories Like a Rock Face Luciana Mollica Rocks are part of steep, rugged cliffs and crags. As you stretch across their faces, yearning for the sunlight peaking at their brows to melt down your back, you can hear their mosses whisper words of an ancient tongue and their hollow cracks hum old and mysterious melodies.

Listen to what you have heard and embrace it with your whole heart. Sandstone rock faces tell stories of longevity in their opaque color and gritty texture. Rock faces veiled in shiny flecks of stone radiate with wisdom and truth when the sun hits them. Tell stories the way scree slopes crowned with vegetation tell stories of tall inland cliffs and the way old, dense, rock faces tell stories of eroded plateaus.

When you tell a story, expose the hidden details of your experience in the same way that plants take root in rock faces and expose their inner parts with wide open cracks. Explain the change in your perspective like the transition from evening sun to darkness on the face of a rock. Like a climber observing their progress, reflect upon all that you held onto and all that you let go of during the time that your story took place.

Tell stories of worship like the tall vertical cliffs who praise the sun during an early morning sunrise. Tell stories of love like the rocky crags who accept birds into their hollowed overhangs. Tell stories of perseverance and bravery like the smooth slabs of rock that watch climbers attempt to conquer heights. Tell stories of the elderly like rugged bluffs enveloped in greybeard moss and withered by the harsh wind. Tell stories of solitude like boulders staring into the golden foothills of the mountains. Tell stories with the grace and wisdom of all rock faces.

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Charlie Barron

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Reference of Ears Nick Palagi “I sit here listening to the MossTrying to create somethingthat people like, just like Ross” Said the Sir KakapoFlightless, no future Useless, Inable to do Not even a true sir Feasting on the liver The liver of Prometheus Prometheus, Kakapo “Mr Clive, I can’t afford to Rent” Said Destiny all torn over, with rags, and Bent Only half-alive, trying to hard on something so Helpless Still living, yet poor and hopeless Only the Birds to keep him alive Mr. Ross, Clive “No longer alive” Said Fowl Not nearly dawn The British faun The child Tireseus Disappearances among us The populous flying Of Persapolis Sighing Why don’t we have ears__

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Emma Blount

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Salah Xiaoyang Gong 源于第三层的美 回到近乡的我 渴望首陀罗存在于人道中的救助 没有那一回事 只好安静的躺在简朴之中 仿佛听见了孤独夜莺的叫声 沉浸在油渍中的被角 追求自由的智者 依然在家偶遇热沃当

Translated by Mr. Murphy Beauty Originating on the Third Level 「1」 The me that has returned to the nearby village, Yearns for the sudra to be saved by humanity.

That didn’t happen.

Might as well take a rest, lay down amongst simplicity.

Is that a lonely whippoorwill’s call?

Deeply immersed in the comforter’s grease, I searched for the liberated sophist.

As before, I’ll just stay at home and have a chance meeting with The Beast of Gévaudan「2」. 「1」Third Level Beauty : The term from Henry David Thoreau’s book “Walden”. 「2」The Beast of Gévaudan: The historical name associated with a man-eating animal or animals which terrorized the former province of Gévaudan.

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Melanie Val

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The Closing Chapter Van Carlton Shanahan

The heavy wooden door slammed behind me with rows of pews leading to the altar. I progressed to the podium where I began to think. Here I ponder how my past selves could benefit me with my arising struggle from the struggles that they faced in the past four years. Let us not disappoint the priestess with our forthcoming solution to the issue at hand; after all, I did mention I will speak to her about my resolution.

“She has become important to me. To all of us has she not?” I questioned. “you are right. She was there when I needed someone to talk to after I lost the girl I loved.” 2016-17 spoke. “When I needed her she was also there. She helped me when I couldn’t think for myself.” 2017-18 declared. “She is quite an influence on our development as a person. Look at how we changed! Look at how you converted from the heathenish attributes.” 2018-19 cried.” “How could we disappoint such an amazing influence?”

They all said. “I will not disappoint her! How could I! This isn’t the issue though. I am falling. Falling into a dark hole. Someplace that will be hard to climb out. I am shutting down. I am closing down. I can feel it, I am afraid.” I admitted. “Where is that wonderful German when you need her?” 2018-19 whispered. “In Germany saukerl!” I barked moving toward the front of the altar. “Congrats you learned German. How’s your time going with studying that now!” “Shut up!

Back to the reason you three are here.” I snapped “ How do we fix this? I am losing myself. I am losing what matters most to me.” “What is the issue? One

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asked. “I am having to decide something. Priesthood.

And I do not know if it is the right choice. Along with that, I feel as though I am losing the ones I love.”

They looked at me; their jaws dropped. “Wait, what!

Now you are sucking up to the priestess aren’t you?”

2016-17 questioned. “No, Not at all. It is what is right. It is proper I think. “Explain!” They hollered, “explain! How is it right?” Notice how I brought you guys here for advice and yet they []interrogate me on why I chose where I go. I couldn’t help but think how in the actual hell something that I argue within my memory comes to attack me. They are supposed to remind me of my mistakes in order to not continue making them and this is what happens? This is what goes wrong. 2019-20 declared, “ I walked in this buil-” “This is why we’re here? With you? You brought us in this holy building because you want to be a priest?” 2017-18 spat. “Not necessarily. I came here to think. Since it is the only place I can think clearly on certain matters. Back to my reason may I? Good. I think I can be me as a priest. That’s what the german influenced me to be… myself right? I want to help those people who are more vulnerable than I am.

I have been faithful all my life with a greater purpose.

Each of you know this. We got pissed and cursed God and Jesus out, correct?” It was evident. They were thinking. “You are right; I wished to fight God or kill him for snatching her through the windshield into a tree.” 2016-17 declared. “I would speak lowly of God and Jesus. I would make that same girl a god instead.

I prayed to her.” 2017-18 stated. That’s a distortion of faith according to Paul Tillich. You will learn that later. 2018-19 spoke, “ I prayed that he wouldn’t take the girl I loved for five years away when she reported

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that she had been watching nurses run around making sure she didn’t need surgery in order to make sure she survived.” “See that right there proves that I have always believed in an ultimate,” I called out. “He is kind of right if we think about it.” 2018-19 announced. See this was where the magic started. The one time I would be able to think clearly like this. To have my past push their moments aside in order to think about what was necessary. This is what magic is. This chapel was my time machine. This chapel kept my past and present grounded. “So tell us about this regressing stage.” “ I am becoming distant.” “to what regard?” “all of them. I am pushing myself away. Away from those who care because” The words wouldn’t come out. Another blockade had made its way to my thoughts. “Because I am leaving my home.” I finally muttered.”

“You know what? Look at what happened to me. Remember when we lost Elizabeth? You did the same thing. You are regressing to 2016” 2016-17 said. “Look at how you worry about what’s right for others but not you. You can’t even enjoy your last year at what you call home!” 2017-18 dictated.

“Remember what the German friend said? ‘Du wirst immer meinem Herzen Bleiben!’ Do you remember what that means?” 2018-19 spoke. “Of course I remember what that means! She said, ‘you’ll always stay in my heart!’’ I cried wandering to the isle of pews. “She is still going to be there for you no matter what. You know she will. You have Elise too. She adores you as you adore her! You once said one person is all you need. Live by that too.” 2018-19 declared, “People will be depressed and they need someone like us. Someone to hold the faith in

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humanity and someone to see the good in everyone.

To make them feel like for once someone cares. They need you, but now you need them. So get your head out of your ass and tell them what’s going on.

DON’T DISAPPOINT THE PRIESTESS!” I exclaimed.

“I started here and I will end here. I am afraid of endings: that I know is true. Maybe even change.

No, I am definitely afraid of change but change is inevitable. It is a necessary evil in my eyes.

Something that makes me want to flee. To glide down the road as if to escape a nightmare. I am a coward in this regard. I am afraid of losing those I love and hold most dear. I am afraid of the wrong choices. The hourglass only has so much sand to spill. So where do I begin? Now. In the present. There is no better time they say. I will change these attributes. Put my fears aside. To raise my confidence. To show the young children that it is okay to make friends with older ones. To show the older ones that it is okay to make friendships with younger students. We are all people.

When the time comes to leave, yes it will be sorrowful, but it isn’t truly an end. I will come back. I know I will. This is my home and I know I will always be welcomed here. The priestess once said, “Remember, this place will always be a home for you.” She always knew what to say. I know I have my priorities. I know I have my fears, but those were made to overcome. I cannot be alone if I do not push them away. I cannot lose friends if I remain in touch.

The changes I have faced here are impressive. I wish to thank you all. I am pleased to be here and when the time comes, You’ll see that I am where I belong. You

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have seen it, but accepting it is sometimes dubious.

The door creaks open and the metal handle claps against the wood. “ I will do what I must. You all have been very helpful for the past four years. You have allowed me to grow, to become me. Once this chapter closes, I will weep, I will miss the students I have gotten the pleasure to call my friends. I will miss the faculty and staff who were always on the sidelines waiting for me to succeed. I will miss terrorizing the teachers with my prank of tripping over myself in order to have the laptop strike the ground as if it just broke at that moment. I will miss being penalized for yelling out God!... Damnit! And catching a glimpse of the head coach’s jaw drop in shock. I will miss hearing the middle schoolers holler my name and hearing their stories or see them so energetic which would make me wish I was like that: I could use their energy in all honesty. I will miss members of my class watching funny videos on YouTube or hearing hilarious stories from their families. I will miss my “locker” or in other words the box in the library. I will miss how I developed to become who I am meant to be from the struggles and the victories from 20162020. I will miss hearing, ‘Oh the priestess would be sooooooo disappointed in you if you don’t sing with the nuns’ during The Sound of Music rehearsal. I will miss the action of butling in the musical. Finally, as I always announce, return all cups, plates, utensils, and bowls to the dining hall.”

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Katie Finn Hurst

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Rollercoaster Reese Michaels I pick a rollercoaster, its coat shiny and red, I buckle up, reading the warnings printed on fraying paper.

With a jolt it rumbles forward.

Off to a good start.

Up. Up and Up and Apprehension flitters around my stomach.

Fear sneaks up from behind, wrapping its cold fingers around my throat, close tighter and tighter as the top approaches.

We’re here.

For a moment everything is beautiful, and majestic, and -- plot twist -We’re falling.

Me and this stranger next to me that I suddenly clutch for dear life.

We fall together and fly together.

And, for that moment, we’re connected, hoping for each other to make it through.

Then….. it ends.

But as I close my book I silently wish that character well and move on to a new roller coaster.

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Namtso Norbu

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