The Cardinal Review Vol. 5, No. 1 - Spectacle by Seattle Academy

Spectacle The Cardinal Review Literary Magazine Vol. 5, No. 1

Contents Note From the Editor

The Yellow Car - Mirabel Malcolm, Safiya Mohamed, and Keira Smily

Gone - Peter Walton, Noah Gonzales, and Stephen Gust 3 Echos of a Distant Love - Anonymous

The Bird Man - Anonymous

The Fruit Stand and the Security - Anonymous

The Bare Wall - Anonymous

Mother’s Green Scales - Elonna Ong, Darby Greene, and Sena Kwong

Reminiscing - Amirah Giundi, Junior Cox, and Jakob Spielholz

Revenge of the Bread - Anonymous

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Outside the Yellow Wallpaper - Miles Stout, Ian Law, and Ella Carter

Meant For Me - Anonymous

The Other Perspective - Anonymous

The Cell Walls - Vincent Hunt, Emily Barton, and Berke 16 Ozturan She Insane… - Anonymous

Contents Wrapped Like a Burrito - Jasmine Yi, Bennett Rawlings, and Vivian Jones

My Christmas Adventure - Anonymous

Our Team

Cover Art by Beats Upton

Note from the Editor: On behalf of the Literary Magazine Club, we hope you enjoy this collection of student writing. We want to thank everyone who put themselves out there by submitting their work and applaud them on their new status as published artists! Sharing your art with others requires a commendable amount of bravery and we are so proud of each of you for taking that step. The theme of this issue is “Spectacle,” a consistent element in the works we received. We hope that reading the pieces in this issue motivates you to find excitement in your own life. If you are inspired by the work in this magazine, please submit your own work for the next issue. We hope to work with you soon! Thank you for reading and enjoy! -

Rocket Davis

The Yellow Car By Mirabel Malcolm, Safiya Mohamed, and Keira Smily As I run out of the store with the toucan in my grasp and the cops hot on my trail, I spot a strange old yellow car. A woman and her daughter hop out of the vehicle, and I seize the moment, leaping through the rusted mustard door. I am immediately submerged in yellow seats with a strange pattern on them. I look over to the passenger seat and am instantly alarmed. Bite marks are ripped into the seats, with spinning white silkworms hanging from the ceiling. A small noise grasps my attention and I look to the back seat to see a baby and a Kate Spade school book. I realize that I was in over my head and quickly leave the car, run back to the store, and return the toucan. I think to myself, “What a weird night.”

Gone By Peter Walton, Noah Gonzales, and Stephen Gust It was a wonderfully simple summer day; me and my brother went to the beach, I had no idea how quickly things could fall apart. After a while, I realized that I did not know where my brother was, I was starting to get worried. I pulled on the lifeguard's ankle and pointed at the waves. “My brother!” I shouted. The lifeguard sprinted down the beach, shouting for people to help. Two girls stood up immediately and joined us. Before I knew it, 35 people had joined us and stood in a human chain sweeping the water for my brother. It had been 20 minutes since he had gone under, and he hadn't come up since. Then, someone said he saw my brother's hair sink and resurface as his body bobbed. Someone told me he had mistaken it for seaweed at first. I watched the paramedics load his body into the ambulance, and saw the girls touch my brother's lifeless body. I wondered what they were thinking. Then, I watched as the paramedics drove away. I could not believe he was gone.

Echos of a Distant Love By Anonymous With each day, I carried the letters from a man named Jimmy Cross, who was a lieutenant in the Vietnam War. We exchanged letters throughout the months that Jimmy fought; we exchanged what felt like letters of love, but was love present? With each letter, it brought a sense of guilt over my body, pulling me closer to someone so far from me. I carried the letters he sent me in my chest pocket, bringing him with me wherever I went. Up the hills of campus, down the sand of the beach, he was with me. Throughout my semester, my work increased, I stopped sending letters to the man I wasn't sure I loved. I wanted to love this man, but I was not sure if I could love someone so far. I signed each letter with the doomed words “Love Martha.” Each time I wrote, it brought my heart to a crisp. His letters slowed down, first from 2-3 a month to maybe 1 every 3 months, I worried about his safety, hearing rumors of what was going on over there. The letters stopped, no word, no love. Looking at each letter that sent me into this despair, I burned them all, every single one. I dumped the ashes of each love letter into the cold ocean, where he and I painstakingly kissed. The kiss that haunts me with his love. Did I love him? Did I not?

The Bird Man By Anonymous Mom and Dad were trying to yell over the blasting Christmas music coming from the stereo. Dad stopped the argument to declare that we didn't have time for this foolishness, then promptly exited the door, shouting behind him that he was going to warm up the car. Mom let out a long sigh and grabbed me, our winter coats, and her wallet before we headed out the door. The woman, who calls herself Mom, hops out of the car and walks around to meet Dad as they walk away from the car to discuss the details of the flight. I gaze out the window and, from the side, see a man barreling towards the car as fast as he can. Well, as fast as he can, considering a giant stuffed bird is weighing him down and making him unsteady. He comes up to the car and throws the giant stuffed animal on the hood. With the car blocking my parent's gaze, he opened the door to the car and sat right where Mom was! He takes off. Who is this man, and why is he in Mom's seat? Everything happened so fast, and the next thing I heard was a thud on the back of the car. I look over to see Mom's face smushed up against the glass in a distorted manner. Her appearance was more terrifying than the strange man driving me into the unknown. I felt my lips bubble, snot dripped out of my nose, and my tears pooled out of my eyes. I couldn't comprehend all of this ruckus, so I cried. An arm reaches towards my face, trying to push a bottle in my mouth. Doesn’t he know it's not time to eat! I am not hungry. I push it out of my mouth and let lose my anger in hot tears and wailing. The man's face reddens slightly, and his cheeks puff out as he huffs in anger and gives up in frustration.

The Fruit Stand and the Security By Anonymous It was a hot day when suddenly, there he was. The general’s captain. He often stopped by the market to pick up produce for the general. Never paid and left fear in the eyes of everyone he encountered. This time, the man brings company: An older woman, another woman in jeans and a white t-shirt, and an innocent little girl. “One of those,” said the girl, gesturing towards me. I felt my skin crawl and began to shiver despite the heat. The man, unreadable and intimidating as always, nodded at me. Despite the politeness of the gesture, it felt suppressive, threatening to my life and family as he picked up a fresh starfruit from my stand. The girl smiled and laughed as she wiped off the dust and filled her mouth with the sweet fruit I had labored to obtain. To her, the captain was nothing but a charming man, but to me, he was the enabler of a dictator and the man who shot my mother for walking in his path. I force a smile onto my face and a stillness onto my shaky hands. The group continued to walk through the streets, instilling terror in the vendors and passers-by-ers while acting innocent as though they were not responsible for the cold-blooded murder of millions.

The Bare Wall By Anonymous My beautiful wife has recently fallen ill. It all happened after our wonderful baby was brought into the world. She seemed detached, sick of everything. With my expertise and rest, she will be cured of her hysteria, I think this mansion I’ve brought her to will be good for her. She spends most of her time in the attic, I sometimes hear scraping noises when I return home, though I’m sure she is only exploring her new surroundings. During the dead of night, though I’m not sure it is my imagination, I hear her walking around the room, stopping at times. I will have to check with my sister to make sure she hasn’t been writing; it is quite detrimental to her health to be doing such a thing. Her imagination runs wild, I fear she may be too far gone to save. This isn’t the woman I met so long ago, the beautiful girl whose mind was not tainted. I hardly recognize her; she seems distant, not fully with me while I speak to her. I returned home one day to hear screaming coming from the house. After opening the attic door, I found quite a gruesome sight. Jane, my beloved Jane, was crouched to the ground, her body twisted every which way. The walls were barren, stripped of their wallpaper. The last thing I saw was her creeping forward, slowly dragging the paper behind her before my vision went black.

Mother’s Green Scales By Elonna Ong, Darby Greene, and Sena Kwong I stared as my mother drew her last breath before the lake swallowed her whole. She yelled, “My green scales!” with her last remaining strength. Before her passing, she had mentioned seeing a majestic creature offering her the companionship she lacked from Mr. Johnson. She called out to the ocean being every day asking for a green scale. My mother and father had just moved into our beloved cabin by the lake, which was rustic and dark. Father never stopped speaking, he would say things like “Jane, make me food,” “Wash my clothes today; they are dirty,” or “Stop looking at the water and come do the dishes.” I could tell the commands were taking their toll on Mother. I was one year old, and in those 12 months, my mother seemed to despise me. Even so, she carried me to the lake every night, looking out to the water while nursing. She spent all her time sitting by the lake, longing for something more. She spoke of a creature I could never see, saying it would save the both of us from father. She longed for its shiny green scales and kept repeating it was something she once had. She would spin me around and sometimes dip the top of my head into the icy, black water until she lost control of her body, dropping me into the lake, and calling out to the ocean while its water suffocated me. Mr. Johnson, my father, screamed as he lunged towards my sunken body and knocked my mother off the deck. My mother was reunited with the ocean being Her eyes rolled back and her body disintegrated into bubbles. Her green scales illuminated the lake, changing its color from black to a dark green. 8

Reminiscing By Amirah Giundi, Junior Cox, and Jakob Spielholz The trampling voices of her dead mother still ring in her ear. The shape of her mother’s body stands tall as she creeps inside the wallpaper towards the window as if a spider crawling towards its prey. The voices echoing “this is how” rumble from her mother’s weary voice. The girl looks out towards the window, across the sandy beach, watching the rippling currents of the California waves. She sees a girl standing on the shore at the water's edge, crying as she picks up a pebble and places it in on a toucan as she sends it off hoping to bring it to her husband fighting for his life in Vietnam, knowing that she may never see him again. The bird takes flight, soaring high above the clouds, yet suddenly it drops, and hits the window. Suddenly the woman on the beach looks toward the window and the face looking back at the girl in the window was the face of her mother and she dies of the joy that kills.

Revenge of the Bread By Anonymous Kerplunk! A loud thud booms as a body hits the floor. Loaves of bread surround the baker who lies motionless on the ground. A silence falls upon the bakery as a mutual understanding is made–the time to strike is upon them. Sourdough, the first to seize this new opportunity, jumps down from the shelf and checks the baker's pulse. “He’s still breathing,” announces Sourdough, and a groan spreads around the bakery White Bread recognizes the opportunity and jumps up on the oven to address the other breads, “Brothers and sisters, our time has come! We have been freed from our tormenter! I shall lead us in this new era!” An argument ripples through the shelves as different bread types start vying for power. Eventually, different loaves of bread are flying around the bakery, colliding and cutting each other up; jam is everywhere, and peanut butter is applied to the wounded. After hours of fighting, Sourdough speaks up. “Why are we fighting one another? We all come from the same dough, do we not? A shared yeast is in our blood. Let us overload the oven and burn down the bakery to free future generations from our torment!” shouts Sourdough. A slow chant of agreement murmurs around the enclosed space: “Burn, burn, burn.” Wonderbread is the first to throw himself into the oven. Inspired by his heroic action, other bread types follow suit: Whole Wheat, Baguette, Rye, and many more throw themselves into the oven as it burns brighter and hotter. Soon enough, the vengeful flames leap out 10

of the oven and begin spreading around the bakery, burning it to the ground. Staring at the burned down bakery, Sourdough remembers his fallen brothers before running away into the shadows to liberate his fellow loaves from their bakers as sirens approach.

Outside the Yellow Wallpaper By Miles Stout, Ian Law, and Ella Carter What wonderful news! My brother John has asked me to be the caretaker to his wife in this beautiful home. I always knew John was successful, but I never imagined he could afford a mansion like this one. I have only met my sister-in-law a handful of times while they have been married, but I look forward to building a relationship with her! Jane and I are getting along splendidly, although there are times when she seems rather distant, and sometimes she asks me to leave, but that’s probably because she gets little sleep in her yellow room. I catch her looking at that wallpaper sometimes, and I must admit it bothers me. I intend to inspect the wallpaper to see what Jane is looking for. I think Jane needs to get out of the house; that the room has done strange things to her. She is not herself. She spends all day locked in her room, asking me when John will return, although I have heard them arguing over Jane’s treatment. I’ve noticed scratches on the wallpaper near her bed and I worry Jane is having nightmares. I try hard to continue being the enthusiastic caretaker my brother expects me to be, but I worry about Jane; it does not seem like John understands what goes on when he leaves the house. What to do! Jane has started to tear off that wallpaper in her room! I hear her muttering all day about some woman, but I check the grounds every day and see no one. I know Jane writes in her diary when she thinks I’m not looking, and I have heard her muttering to herself in her room as if she is talking to someone. 12

I found Jane tied up in rope, crawling around the room. And my brother! John was motionless on the floor–what had Jane done to him? I hadn’t known what he was going to use the ax he had asked for for until I saw it in the door.

Meant For Me By Anonymous Dawn and her boyfriend dig into a bowl of Cheerios together, meeting one another's eyes in a loving glare. The news quietly plays in the background as the weatherman talks about the glaring Arizona sun. Suddenly, the news channel switches to a new news anchor. “Breaking News, a man steals a toucan, steals a car, kidnaps a baby, abandons the baby in the snow, and gets arrested after a long chase…” Dawn turns up the TV, “... His name is Lockjaw Stevens''. Dawn’s face lights up as she turns to her beloved, but he has already begun to speak, “Wow, what a disgrace,” he says with a blank stare. She looks down in shame and refuses to utter another word. Little will her boyfriend ever knew of Lockjaw Stevens. Somewhere, deep down, Dawn knew the toucan was meant for her.

The Other Perspective By Anonymous The Whitest Girl Joseph: Instant regret flooded my mind. Terry was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and I threw it all away. For what? Some random hookup who just wanted me for revenge. Terry wasn’t like other girls, she didn't care about the fake tan, gold hoops, and the caked-on makeup. She walked out on me, what else was I supposed to do? Whatever it’s too late now I have to stop obsessing over her a girl who's not going to think twice about me. “Get out,” I say with no emotion behind my eyes. She just stares at me with a confused, doe-eyed look “I don't understand, you chose me.” I sat there staring past her head, making no eye contact. “I said get out”. The Other Side of the Trailer Terry: I ran off tears streaming down my face, how could he do this to me, he wasn't like other guys. He cared for me in ways no one else could. He broke me but I won't think twice about it. He's now just someone that I used to know.

The Cell Walls By Vincent Hunt, Emily Barton, and Berke Ozturan “This court finds the defendant guilty of the crimes of child abduction, three charges of reckless endangerment, attempted murder, grand theft auto, and theft of a plush toucan.” Those words still keep me up at night when I try to sleep in this cold, crusty, creepy cell. For some reason, they don't understand; I did it all for Dawn, and now I will never see her or the toucan again. The judge sentenced me to solitary confinement, claiming I was “criminally insane” or sum. They prescribed me colorful mints and rest. I'm not too sure if it's working. I'm so bored nowadays that all I do is sit and stare at the cracked cell walls, studying its simple yet complex birdlike design. Sometimes, its wings even appear to be moving. Until one sleepless night, the bird began to free itself from the prison walls, slowly creeping towards me. Oh, how lucky it is to flap its wings freely. A rumbling jealousy grew inside of me.

She Insane… By Anonymous “Open the door, my darling.” I tried to speak quietly and calmly, I didn't want to scare her. She wouldn't open it. I scurried around to find the key and plunged it into the door, almost breaking it down in the process. The door slammed open, and I nearly yelled, “What is the matter? For God’s sake, what are you doing?” I looked out at the once yellow room, now barren and plain. Jane always hated the wallpaper. Maybe I should have listened, but I didn't believe she knew what was best for her. But now that's all changed because I'm laying eyes on my wife but she's not the same. She's creeping around in a corner like an insane person. I didn't realize it was this bad. My brain gets all fuzzy, and the room begins to spin. All the noise fades out as my head hits the cold floor, and everything goes dark.

Wrapped Like a Burrito By Jasmine Yi, Bennett Rawlings, and Vivian Jones A strange revving noise wakes me from my slumber. As my eyes creep open, I see a strange man at the wheel of my car. “Where are mama and dada?” I think to myself. The car rumbles and roars as it skids down the highway. A cry escapes my mouth out of desperation, causing the scary man driving my car to turn around in shock. Suddenly, my baba is shoved in my mouth. The taste of sweet milk fills my mouth, momentarily relaxing my panic. I refuse to drink this liquid from a stranger, only wanting to know where my parents are. Loud and piercing alarm sounds fill my ears, overwhelming my senses and filling my eyes with tears. The strange man performs a maneuver, causing the alarms to fade. Before I knew it, the car jolted to a stop, and I was tightly wrapped in a warm blanket like a burrito. Silence and peace followed, and sleep tugged at my eyes. I fell into a cold coma, dreaming of the warmth of my parents. By the time I woke up, I was tightly held in the comfort of my mom’s arms, clasping onto me like she would never let me go.

My Christmas Adventure By Anonymous The door slams as I wail for milk. My eyes, still unable to open fully, prevent me from focusing on my parents as they blur away from me into the Fargo train station. Suddenly, the driver's door opens, and Mommy enters and starts the engine. I stay silent for Mommy, but something is wrong. The car pulls out, my mommy outside screams, then I see her on the back windshield. I realize the driver is not Mommy. The car pulls out, I wail, and the scary man takes me away! He tries to stuff my face with a bottle, but I will not take it! None of this inorganic stuff! The car accelerates as Santa drops snow from the sky, and he sends cool red and blue lights behind me. Santa drops a toy bird from the sky, and the lights are no more. “You little bastard, you! What are you doing here?!” Screams the Scary Man. “WAAAA,” I intelligently respond. Suddenly, the snow surrounds the car, and we stop. The Scary Man says something bad, like my daddy does, and leaves me alone in the car. It’s too cold. I’ll just take a power nap. After waking from my beauty sleep, one of Santa’s figures in navy blue takes off my blanket and brings me into his car, with Mommy and Daddy waiting for me with a present: a street-torn toucan.

Our Team Editor in Chief: - Rocket Davis (2024) Faculty Advisors: - Hannah Conn - Patti Crouch-Cook Contributing Editors: - Aleah Ham (2024) - Michael Rosales (2026) -

Oliver Li (2026)