Scribbles: Issue 2 by Scribbles

scribbles Issue two

Contents scribbles | issue 2 | Spring 2011

Comics 4

Writing

The Speedboat 8 Strings 8 Ode to the Potato Masher 9 Fragments 9 The Lion’s Requiem10 Ignoble 12 Ocean Night 15 The Burning 16 Dreamcatcher 18 The Aryans 20 Love’s Corrupted Death 21

Artwork

22-31

The Team

Head of Art Jade Mallabone

Editor Kenneth Lee

Art Department Madeleine Griffiths Franklin Gu David Lam Vikki Hui Kristie Choi Christine Ho Virginia Hsu Kammy Chiu Christina Lee Vanessa Cheung Ming Cai Cheung Ethelia Leung Sasha Corr Nicole Wong Oriana Catton Jessica Chan Vivian Li Gary So

Head of Writing Yoon Ji Han Writing Department Jade Mallabone Virginia Hsu Sasha Corr May Haung Bryce Lim Susan Maginn Aspen Wang Claron Niu Head of Layout Tommy Li Layout Department Chris Li Chun Yin Au Justin Cheong Kristie Choi Larry So Samuel Tong Vera Brewster Lummis

Email us! scribbles.cis@gmail.com

Administration Department Bok Wai Yeung Justin Cheng

Co mi 4

(Please rotate your head or the magazine.)

The Speedboat May Huang

The speedboat is a glorious boaster when he cuts and roars across the water. The speedboat is a shameless bragger, leaving echoes of his roaring motor.

He splashes the blue with soft sea spray, trailing a spoor of white foam in his wake. Only after he has cruised the waves, does the line of frothy spume dissipate.

There's sun glinting off his license plate, his sleek polished bow and silver facade. Other boats envy those fancy traits, his distinguished fame and marvelous praise.

The day's done and he's back in his shed, Now there's no more flaunting left to be said, Concealed by drapes where no one can see, The speedboat is simply a nobody.

Strings Susan Maginn

Strings Thin and delicate Held her up Above the world

Strings She danced, moved Lived, breathed Because he asked her to

Strings And if he wished He cut could them And she would forever fall

Strings But when he said he loved her All he received was a smile Waxy and fake as the rest of her

The Lion's Requiem

Voices

sneak their way into my ears, shattering the hush within me. “She was in shock.” “Shocked or not, you shouldn’t have brought it with us. That’s one more mouth to feed.” “She is not one more mouth to feed, Tang. I’ll just share my rations with her.” “Look, Cadeo, we’re lucky we’re alive! This time the Raptors blew the whole place up! No one else survived. Do you want to starve for some stranger?” No one else survived. “She’s...” I open my eyes and see the boy and another, older man standing in front of him, arms crossed. He’s shorter than the boy, with thinning silver hair and a face that is twisted into a nasty snarl. He tilts his face a little, and I gasp. His right eye is white and unseeing. The boy hears me and stops mid-sentence. “You’re awake,” the boy says. I blink, letting the words slowly register in my head.

Yoon-Ji Han

The boy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, creating the soft waves of a midnight sea. He turns around, and the fierce look in his eyes vanishes, replaced by something gentler, more humane. I see a dark bruise spreading over his right cheek. I feel responsible. “How are you feeling?” I frown as I try to remember how to speak. “I’m…okay. The ground is...It’s sort of rocking, though...” My senses suddenly come alive. “Where on earth am I? Where did you take me?” I catch sight of the green glow of an alarm clock nearby. August 18, 2013, it reads. It’s only been a day since... since when? He hooks the leg of a stool with his dirty Converse-clad foot and sits down. “We’re on a boat, calm down. It’s the only place that is safe for now. Your ankle’s pretty bashed up.” “No, don’t tell me to calm down! I don’t even know you, don’t even know where exactly I am!” “I told you, we’re on a boat.” I sit up and glare at this stranger. “Get away from me.”

“Well, well... ,” I hear the man mutter.

Without a word, he shifts back in his seat a little and shrugs.

“Leave us alone,” the boy snarls. “Now.” He sounds feral, and I find myself flinching away from him.

His indifference annoys me, and I narrow my eyes at him, then give a meaningful glance at the doorway.

“As you wish, master,” the man snickers.

He lifts a dark eyebrow. “No thanks.” He chuckles and smiles, revealing that it was just a joke. “Well, then again, this is my room. And I had to go

Loud footsteps ring in my ears as the man stomps away.

Part 2

through the painful process of bandaging your ankle up.” He nods toward the end of the bed. When I look down, I see my right ankle bound in fresh, white bandages. It seems too bright in contrast with my tan skin. Memory returns, and my rage and suspicions are pushed aside, to be replaced with pain, a sharp, almost unbearable knotting in my heart. No one else survived. “My…sister. Mai. She’s… gone.” The sound of my voice seems distant, as if I’m listening to someone from another side of a wall. At that moment, I feel lost. Mai is gone. I see something flicker in his eyes, like small candles sparkling before sputtering out in the darkness. Pain? Recognition? Before I can continue thinking about this, he gives a sad, comforting smile. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He gestures at something by my head, and I look down and see Mai’s rag doll. “I picked that up when we...escaped from the island.” Silence becomes a tangible thing in the air around us. The understanding that Mai isn’t coming back is unspoken, yet something that both of us realize. It comes crashing down onto me in waves of grief. A choked sob escapes from my lips, and a rebellious tear runs down the bridge of my nose. It drops onto the clean linen, a tiny sailboat in an endless ocean of white.

notice the way his long, slightly wavy dark hair brushes the top of his eyes, mingling with his long lashes which create gentle shadows on his sandtinted cheekbones. His eyes are filled with liquid night, and every look he takes is sharp and intelligent. Yet there is a hidden sadness, pushed down into the depths of his eyes. He is clean-shaven, though I think he is around my age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. I blink. I remember him from somewhere. “What’s your name?” My voice comes out thick and gravelly. His eyes widen slightly, sending his brow arching upwards, as if he’s surprised that I’ve spoken. “My name’s Cadeo. We used to go to the same school. You know, before the Chinese blew it up.” “I remember you now. I’m Ly.” “Lion,” he says with satisfaction. “What?” “Your name means lion.” I ignore the statement and lie down again, turning my back toward him. I don’t let him see the tear that runs down the width of my face. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to sleep.

I have to be strong. I can’t cry. A tentative touch. I look down numbly through tear-filled eyes and follow the tan hand resting awkwardly on my arm up to the boy’s face. He smiles, and his eyes make two upturned crescent moons of midnight. I pull away by instinct, but he doesn’t seem upset. I look up at him. I’m surprised by the compassion in his smile, when he had displayed such ferocity to the other man just moments ago. What I’m more surprised at, however, is the way that I suddenly feel safe. I stare at him, and for the first time I

14 photo: charlescarreon.com

Ocean Night As the sun dipped over the horizon, night settled on the ocean. The reef awakened, the iridescent fish were no longer sleepy, and the whole sea was alight with the fluorescence of corals. As the glowing shrimp darted between nooks and crannies and neon starfish fed on floating seaweed, a shadow loomed. The shadow, unlike the other fish, was not bright and colourful. Instead, he was bleak black. He did not shine, like the others, but swallowed and gobbled light with his body. Suddenly the ocean noticed the intruder, but it was too late, and with a snap of the jaws, it was dark.

In the nothingness, a bright pair of eyes snapped open. It was Flootzy, the forever foolishly jolly clownfish. What had happened? At this time of night, shouldn’t the ocean be in full flow? Where were the waving purple jellies? Where were the seahorses, whose bodies flashed glitter? What was this great, nebulous shadow? Flootzy, so to speak, had never known darkness. Oh, no. The only darkness he knew was the one before night fell, and that could hardly be called darkness, for sun rays pierced the sea, and those other marine animals had their own life. So Flootzy, being a foolish clownfish, brooded and brooded, until, after what had really been minutes (but seemed like years to Flootzy), another pair of eyes snapped open. This time, it was Anne eel. Her personality was rather silly, but it shall have to be described anyway. All Anne did was shine white and blue. She was often complimented on her splendid combination of colours, and a result, had become the first eel bimbo. “So………..” Flootzy, of course, had tried to initiate a conversation. Anne stared at him blankly, and her neon lights flashed at him daringly. Flootzy was getting desperate. He needed to extract some information from Anne, because staying in this dark cloud was

Claron Niu simply inconceivable. In response to Flootzy’s increasingly agitated demeanour, Anne started to introduce herself. “Like. Oh. My. Gosh. I’m Anne. Who are you? Do you think this flashing makes me look fat? It’s, like...” “Do you know why it’s so dark?” Flootzy interrupted. Anne was a bit shocked. Her first response was to ask herself mentally “Did he just ignore my lights?” However, after Anne had got over her surprise that she had not been complimented, she managed to use what little brainpower she had to recall a huge, glittering sea, and a strange place where they were food was plentiful, and where there was a miniature diver moving up and down. These thoughts had been so clear in Anne’s mind, but as she started talking, it turned into a fountain of vapid sketchy mush. “Yes. Oh. My. Gosh. You know I was actually like, thinking, about what you said, and I think I remember this diver guy? I think this diver guy was like… “Flootzy had been rendered speechless. Yes, Anne was being a bimbo, but he had remembered something about a diver… And suddenly, it was bright again. Flootzy’s eyes had to become accustomed to the bright lights, and lo and behold, there was a huge HUMAN staring right at him. Suddenly, the whole place shook, and, before he could react in any way, the human’s finger was jabbing straight at Flootzy’s face. Flootzy recoiled in shock, but alas... he was safe. The finger could not reach him through an invisible barrier.

As Flootzy looked around, he realised that he was in one of those horror cages that humans erected to put fish in. He promptly fainted, and Anne’s lights went psychotic, and crazy, and she slid down the glass like blood crawling down a wall after a murder.

Aspen Wang

It was an ordinary village. The sun leered inside the square window, its rays falling onto a cap. The cap on the stool was blindingly white and crumpled under her supple hands. The girl set the cap on her head and adjusted the straps. She smoothed the creases, flattened out the crumpled edges till they were crisp, and retied it firmly. She looked at the mirror at her reflection and gave a little smile, but then quietly reprimanded herself for her vanity. The girl ran her hands over the smooth and simple desk and then stared at her palms. They were calloused but clean. Straightening herself up, she walked towards the bedroom door, and lowered her eyes before stepping out. She appeared calm. She listened for the uncanny silence, the normal heavy atmosphere that clung to the household every single day. Hearing the muffled sounds below, she climbed down the stairs. “Thomas, put the bread down. Gluttony is sin. Think of your poor sister Martha. Tonight, I will pray for both of you,” she said. Her words were met with a sullen hush and accusing stares. She suddenly felt the burden on her shoulders more acutely than before, and in the clarity of her pain she pried the bread from the grubby hands of her younger brother. The rest of the children furtively tried to retain some resemblance of innocence. She could tell they had been gazing at the food in a longing manner, for quite some time. “Go now Anne, what are you still do-

After a brief and unacceptable pause, the little one in the corner, the rut of the bunch known as Emily, timidly murmured, “She’s with Martha again.” When the rest had left, the house had resumed its stifling atmosphere, save for the sound of a constant, raspy breathing. The girl creaked up the stairs and stood at entrance of another door, waiting. The figure behind the door felt there was a movement outside, and whispered, “You may come in.” The mother had a drawn look to her face, solemn with years of inexpressiveness. She seemed to want to look at the girl, but her gaze seemed to slip right past her. There was an empty quality to her stare, though perhaps it was once filled with something meaningful. But time erodes constantly. “I will take Martha today, she’s not faring well. Did you milk Lucy yet?” The girl spoke in a clipped tone. “No, I expect she’s bursting.” “And the old milk?” “Not yet spoiled.” “Ah. Martha’s not well.” “No, she isn’t.” “She looks pale, doesn’t she?” “She does.” “Well, I won’t keep you here any longer, Lucy needs to be dealt with.”

“Good day mother.” The girl’s skirts rustled down the stairs once more. She glanced at the half-cut cheese on the board and reached to pick a piece, but hesitated, and took back her hand. She briskly walked out and an imperceptible sigh escaped her mouth.

At the pasture, the cow bellowed impatiently, twitching its ears and flicking away the flies that tried to nestle into its short spotted fur. The girl gathered her garments and shifted the small stool closer, placing the bucket right under the udder, and leaned her head against its soft belly. She sniffed at the stench that permeated the farm. It will go away soon. She started talking to the cow. For a while it looked at her, but eventually it shook its head in annoyance and went back to plucking the grass with its tongue, then grinding it in its teeth. She realized how silly she was. She had just finished feeding the pigs when she heard the gravel crunch under fast paced footsteps. The girl tensed. She could tell who it was before she turned around. Once more she resumed her dead-pan mask. “Good afternoon Eustice, what brings you here?” the girl greeted the visitor from behind the fence. “Good day, I’ve come to go to th-the butcher’s,” Eustice stammered, and quickly added, “And to visit my family”. Eustice was a slightly older girl with gaunt and sallow-looking skin. Her eyes were watery and her hair was a mousy color, but she held herself in a superficially cheerful manner. “Ah, what good news do you have to bring to your family? Please give a good day to them for me.” “Oh much good news, very good news…” The visitor’s voice trailed off when she realized the vagueness of her answer.

photos: csulb.edu, fun140.com

The Burning

ing here? The eggs were supposed to be picked by sunrise. Here, take the basket and leave with Thomas. Afterwards, do not forget to watch Emily.” The girl paused, and added what seemed like an afterthought, “Where is mother?”

The girl behind the fence narrowed her eyes at the visitor. Eustice, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, cast her eyes towards the soil in shame. On her neck was faint mark, but in the harsh light of day, it glowed for all to see. Eustice was branded. The girl was startled when she first noticed it, but then settled back to her mask, unfazed, as if she knew it all along.

The fire opened its mouth and consumed. It would not stop roaring, eating, and destroying. Jacob added, “Thankfully, there weren’t any witches to harm us. Did you hear about the trials? They’re finally catching them.”

Her mask hardened in despair. Cautiously, she asked “Oh, are they? But how? How can they tell?” All the while she looked ahead. She had not voiced her actual question.

Sensing the girl had discovered something, Eustice quickly asked, “Oh, and my mother has made some extra bread, would you like some?” The visitor unwrapped a precious loaf.

“Oh that’s easy, all the suspects are blindfolded, and brought to the afflicted or cursed person. If the person calms down when the blindfolded one touches them, the blindfolded one is a sinner.”

The other girl eyed it for a while. Then tilting her chin up, she politely declined, “Thank you, but we’ve got plenty.”

Her brother quipped, “But what if the person is innocent? And the cursed calms down anyways?”

The older girl’s face fell for a moment, “Good day talking to you, I must be on my way now.”

Jacob assumed an annoyed look, “Now, of course that wouldn’t happen because God wou—do you hear that?”

“Good day to you, godsend.” And long after the visitor had turned into a dot in the distance, the girl whispered godsend once more.

When the girl had finished her errands, she began to walk back home. The sun was setting and sky had started to dim. She concentrated on the rhythm of her steps, watching the bucket of milk at either end of her pole. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she kept her pace. She could tell it was soon supper-time. On her path, she could see two figures approaching her, her brother and a boy her age. “Good evening,” the boys mechanically greeted the girl. “Good evening Jacob. Good evening brother. Now, Thomas, how was your day? Did you find many eggs?” Her brother burst, “Yes! Very many, today was a good day.”

There was a distant chant breaking the reticent lull of the path. “They’ve started!” Jacob exclaimed excitedly.

the crowd was only the more terrifying, only the more possessed. Caught in the euphoria of the moment, they screamed and shrieked, throwing stones at the flame. In the middle, wails of agony could be heard from the men, the women and the girls in the flame. Eustice was tied to one of the poles, her face looked as if it was about to melt as the flames engulfed her. She made no movement, and her eyelids were barely opened. The girl walked closer and spotted Jacob and Thomas. Jacob first entered the crowd. “Witch! Witch! Burn her! Pay for your sins! Die!” She watched as Thomas picked up a stone, and entered the crowd as well. She looked at the girl in the flames once more. Eustice regarded the world with a pitying sigh, eyes barely opened and aching for sleep. The two pair of eyes met for an indefinite amount of time, before one pair finally succumbed to peaceful darkness.

The children all walked faster. They neared town quickly, but the boys ran ahead. The girl cautiously measured her pace, and watched the milk sloshing in the buckets. She concentrated on her reflection in the milk. The faster she walked, the more it distorted until it was a face she did not recognize. Or maybe, it was not the milk at all.

The girl put down her bucket, and she too sighed. She looked around and saw everyone jeering, chanting and laughing at the cruelty. The last rays of the fading sun were no longer too bright or unforgiving, but more complacent with a kind of dull acceptance.

Then, she could see it.

And the girl joined the mob.

I have no choice.

The fire opened its mouth and consumed. It would not stop roaring, eating, and destroying. It rose high in the air, veiled with a cloud of smoke and fumes. Its scarlet tendrils seemed to flicker and entice the crowd. Oh, but

May Huang

Sam and I make our way to breakfast as usual, in the dining hall. The dining hall isn’t actu

ally much of a hall, as it is only about the same size as our sleeping room. A large wooden table is stationed in the center of the hall, old and blunted in some places but actually quite sturdy. All of us nine kids pile our way into the room and stand behind our chairs. Margaret, who comes in a minute later, grins and greets us warmly. We chorus our reply back. Taking her place behind the head seat, Margaret beckons to us that we should all say Grace. After we are done, the scraping sound of chairs being pulled back fills the room, shortly followed by the clatter of forks and knives. “Apparently Margaret is making us do our chores twice today,” Sam informs me grumpily. “I heard from Luke.” Sitting opposite us, Luke nods vigorously. Luke is the tallest boy in the orphanage, with bright red tousled hair and long lanky arms. “It’s because she wants the place to look good for the new kid tomorrow,” he whispers to us. Next to him, his sister Susan leans in. “I wonder if it’s a girl or boy,” she says, grinning excitedly. Susan shares the same features as her brother, although she isn’t nearly as tall. Flicking her long red hair back, she continues eating her loaf of bread. Susan, Luke, Sam and I are close friends, being the oldest children at the orphanage at age fourteen. The rest of the kids here are children; mostly four to six year olds: Claire, Andy, Pom, Seth and Charlie. Claire and Andy look up at us, eyes widening. “Extra chores?” they whine. Sam snorts. “Considering you guys don’t do much work anyway, I wouldn’t complain,” he says viciously. “I, on the other hand, have to clean up the dining room later, sweep the floors, polish the windows -- “ “That’s enough,” I interrupt, laughing. Sometimes Sam can get so

TheDreamcatche carried away. When we’re all done eating, Margaret rings the bell. “Children, there is something I want to announce,” she begins, “Although you might have already heard it from someone else already.” She shoots Sam an annoyed look, and he chortles. “Tomorrow, a new boy will be joining the orphanage. He’s fourteen years old, so I expect you four to be taking good care of him. Is that clear?” she says, pointing at me, Sam, Luke and Susan. We nod obediently. “Good,” says Margaret, smiling in satisfaction. “Now hop along, get to your chores!” I giggle to myself as Sam groans loudly next to me. We spend the rest of the day either doing chores or sitting around gossiping about the new kid. Susan tells all of us excitedly that she wishes he’ll have blond hair and striking blue eyes. We all laugh at her, telling her to dream on, and I know she does, because not long after a Daydream drifts slowly up to her. I smile to myself. Later on that night, as I lay awake, I try to convince myself that everything will be alright. As I mentally flicking away a nasty nightmare approaching a snoring Charlie, I realize that the Dreams look different tonight. There are more Nightmares than regular Dreams. I frown in confusion and self consciously huddle against the wall uncomfortably. I’ve never liked Nightmares, although I’ve lived near them for so long. Creepy little wisps of cloud. The alarm in the orphanage sounds, ringing loud and clear through the bedroom where all the other kids sleep. I am swinging gently in the rocking chair, watching the last Nightmare float out of the room. Thank God. Everyone is stretching, yawning, and waking up. Lilly, beams at me. I smile back, but feel a deep churning inside my stomach. Today will be the day the new kid comes. Unfortunately, I’ve been thinking about this matter all night. Twice, I was so caught up in my thoughts I even forgot to chase away a Nightmare from Charlie. We get dressed and ready for the day, as usual. Breakfast is sped up and our chores are delayed because

the new kid is arriving quite early. We gulp down breakfast as soon as possible, and then gather in the main room. For the first time in a long time, Margaret is looking nervous, glancing towards the doorway every few seconds. As for the rest of the kids, they couldn’t be more excited. Especially Sam. “Any second now,” he whispers to me, eyes twinkling with excitement. Right on cue, the doorbell sounds, and Margaret hurries over to open it. At once, we get into line formation, standing up straight. There’s a boy standing in the doorway, looking down at his toes. He has his hands stuck deep in his pockets, and he looks as if he’d rather be anywhere on planet earth than here. Standing next to him are two adults, most likely foster parents. There is something wrong about the scene, the way the adults are standing

We all laugh at her, telling her to dream on, and I know she does. away from the boy, and their tight faces as they speak hurriedly with Margaret. I look around; nobody is noticing this but me. The foster parents depart quickly, and Margaret pulls the boy in. Now that he is in the room, we all get a closer look at him. He has wavy, messy bedraggled brown hair. Standing next to me, Susan gives a little sigh of disappointment. The boy looks up, and I find myself staring into his emerald green eyes. He gives me a curious look, as if he recognizes me, but I quickly look away. “Meet Chace,” Margaret says to us cheerfully, and I snap out of my reverie. “He’ll be the latest addition to our orphanage. I’m sure you’ll get along nicely!” We chorus our greetings. Smiling warmly, Margaret continues, “Chace, this is Sam, Susan, Lilly and Luke. They are also fourteen, so they will be your guides at the orphanage. If you need anything, just ask them, alright?” Chace mumbles an agreement. That’s all Margaret says, and she quickly leaves the room with Chace,

giving him the usual tour of the orphanage. The moment she leaves, the main room is filled with a buzz of voices. Everyone is gossiping about Chace. Sam looks at me excitedly. “He looks friendly,” Sam says, with a huge grin on his face. “I told you it would be alright!” I am lost in thought, pondering, trying to think. “I wonder what happened to his parents?” Susan wonders out loud. Luke shrugs. “All I do know is that his foster parents were looking a bit too eager to let him go,” he says, a hint of curiosity in his voice. So someone else noticed to. Before I can pursue this subject, footsteps echo the hall and Margaret and Chace return. “ I’ve decided to assign Chace with a buddy for his first week here,” Margaret announces. She turns to me. “Lilly?” she inquires. I am slightly surprised, but I nod, and Margaret beams. “Come on, it’s almost lunch,” I say to Chace as we make our way down the hall. Sam, Susan and Luke have decided to stick around as well, which does make things less awkward. “So, where do you come from?” Luke glances at Chace keenly, waiting for his answer. Chace shrugs. “I never knew who my parents were, all I know is that I’ve been through about seven foster families before landing here.” He grimaces. “Must be tough for you, having to move around all the time,” Susan says sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “At least you’re here now,” I say, trying to sound positive, but Chace is looking rather uncomfortable, and a wave of relief washes over his face as Simon starts talking about the comic books Margaret has ordered for the younger kids.

The day passes quicker than I thought it would. There’s something about Chace that I can’t really pin down, the way he spent the day shifting his eyes nervously, avoiding subjects of his family. It’s nearly eight now, the routinely bedtime for us kids. Margaret brings in a roll up mat for Chace to sleep on, and a blanket. Chace accepts it gladly and lies down. I myself assume my usual position in the old green rocking chair. As I swing back and forth, the room already starts to swirl with Night Dreams. Chace is lying down on his mat, looking upwards. Suddenly, I realize that I am curious about what he dreams about, but surprisingly, none of the Dreams approach him. I find this bizarre – there are about twenty Dreams floating around the room and they all have approached someone and starting sending dreams to them. I’m sure that even in the next room a Dream has already found Margaret. But as for Chace, no Dream nears him, and he remains untouched. Chace is still awake, staring at the same wall. I contemplate for a minute, then tiptoe over. Chace sits up when he sees me coming. “Hey,” I say. “Can’t sleep?” Chace nods, sighing. I am about to say something else when a Nightmare comes shooting into the room, heading for Andy. Quickly, I use my mind to direct it away, and it fades from view. I breathe a sigh of relief, and notice Chace squinting at me with the most peculiar look on his face. “What was it you were just looking at?” he asks me abruptly. At first I am shocked, and then realize that to him, I must have appeared to be looking at thin air. Well, I might as well tell him now, anyway. He’ll find out eventually, from one of the other kids. I gulp. “Well, you see, Chace,” I begin. “I’m a bit – I’m a bit different. I know this might sound crazy, but I can see--” Chace cuts me off, face flooded with excitement, now propped up on his knees. “I knew it, Lilly! I knew it the second I saw you!” Gesturing frantically around the room as to makes his point clear, Chace whispers so quietly I can barely hear, but what he says is impossible to mistake. It all makes sense now, why none of the Dreams touch him, why he isn’t falling asleep himself. “I can see Dreams too. In fact, I come from one.”

Photos: U.S. Air Force, The SASA Report

Franklin Gu 23

David Lam

Kammy Chiu

Vivian Li

Virginia Hsu

Gary So

Jessica Chan

Jade Mallabone 28

Virginia Hsu and Kristie Choi 29

Vivian Li 30

Jade Mallabone 31

Cover by Tommy Li