2016 Tabor Bowsprit

MAY 2016

1 Tabor Academy’ s Arts and Literature Magazine

Staff SENIOR EDITORS:

Lily Blouin Boo Graham Kyle Rood

JUNIOR EDITORS:

Nicole Fernandes Lydiad Mead

LAYOUT

FACULTY ADVISORS

SPECIAL OPS THEME DESIGN:

Wendy Liu Liam Bai Savannah Leao

Chris White (Writing) Tricia Smith (Art) Kate Angell (Production) Karen Alves (InDesign) Jennifer Joung

COVER ART

Nicole McLaughlin

BEE THEME

Sterling Benkhart

Table of Contents Authors: Owen Sughrue......................5,8,24,30 Anna Douglas............................7,26,32 Sean Huang....................................10,58 Tanya Mendoza.................................. 13 Campbell Donley......................... 14,38 Maryclare E. Bracken..................... 17 Aurelia Reynolds............................... 19 Wes Chaput...................................23,29 Marc Millette........................................34 Emma Waligory.................................42 Trinity Monteiro...........................48,62 Noah Greany.......................................54 Taylor Rogers....................................60

Artists: Christina Romagnoli...........................4 Jinxi Zhou................................................6 Sterling Benkhardt..............................9 Sydney Mazzarella............................ 11 Georgia West....................................... 12 Liz Tarrant............................................ 15 Jennifer Joung.............................. 16,22 Trinity Monteiro.................................. 18 Maho Tsutsumi...................................25 Zoe Boardman................................... 27 Savannah Leao................................. 28 Lauren Craig........................................ 31 April Mihalovich................................. 33 Stephanie Chen.......................37,47,51 Jason Ma.................................... 39,40,41 John Zhou.............................................52 Emma Waligory...........................53,65 Kayla Aimone..................................... 57 John Mabie..........................................59 Izaiah Farr............................................ 61 Nicole McLaughlin............................ 66

The home of the Bowsprit is: TABOR ACADEMY 66 Spring Street Marion, MA 02738 2

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Survival Owen Sughrue

Drop after drop, rain hits my sleeping bag just above my feet,

sticking out of the open end of what the chaperones call a tent. Next to me, fully inside the tent, my friend is asleep, warm, and dry. The western Massachusetts air is cold, with a wind that makes the rain even worse.

My teeth chatter as if it were winter, even though it is June. My emergency bag crinkles as I try to find a dry, comfortable position.Trying to sleep in the bag, I realize why it is only used for emergencies. The problem with the bag is that every move I make is loud. The sound of raindrops torments me, the steadiness like the ticking of a clock. The raindrops become heavier and more frequent, as if a sibling is poking me over and over to get my attention. Shifting in my emergency bag within my sleeping bag does not make me any dryer, does not make me any warmer; all it does is remind me that my friends are asleep and I am not. The smoke from the fire across camp travels to our tent, giving off a scent of warmth, briefly disguising the raw night’ s rain. All the energy I am spending on thinking about the cold is not making the rain go away. I close my eyes and try to sleep. Whether I like it or not, the rain will continue to fall.

Christina Romagnoli 4

5

Loss Anna Douglas No feeling of loss comes when someone Has already lost their mind.

Death is only a perpetrator To those who do not know Of the life behind Closed doors.

But death,

Is only A factor of life And only leaves a tombstone With a name And tears On the soil standing Beneath

one heavenly day.

Death, almost like a

relinquished Ice cream cone splayed On the ground.

Forgotten.

Death comes after the stoves are turned off, medicine is swallowed 3 times a day given by a nurse in all white, the glass on shelves are removed, and the sadness has already settled.

Loss is better when it is Sudden.

Jinxi Zhou 6

7

A Boy's Day Owen Sughrue The boy woke up, said goodbye to his parents, And walked his little sister to the bus.

He was late to his first class, like most days.

I got a one hundred on math,� said one of his classmates.

"What did you get?"

The boy knew that anything he could say would not be As good as a one hundred.

He was picked last in basketball at recess, And he got the ball once, only to get it stolen.

He forgot his homework in his locker, and his teacher Would not let him go back, only Said with a hint of I-am-better-than-you, "It will be late..."

On the bus, the boy sat with someone who always Sat alone and shared his pretzels with him.

When he got home, his Mom asked like every day, How his day was.

"I had a good day" he said.

Sterling Benkhardt

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Autumn Sean Huang Autumn’ s sky is ravishing. White lumps of water vapor embellish the wild blue yonder, light winged birds flutter through the clouds, leaving behind a beautiful white trail. However today, billows of depressing gray conceal the usual beauty of the deep sky. The torrential downpour attacks the car like machine gun fire. My parents and I have been in the car, lurking in the parking lot, but my limbs are stiff and every inch of my muscle aches from the thought of moving. My heartbeat races with my trembling breath.

A comforting pat lands on my shoulder. "It’ s ok son, you’ ll be just fine."

The heartening reassurance steadily decelerates my hurriedly beating heart. My pupils focus as the world silences. With one deep breath, I spring out of the car like a jaguar leaping out to ambush its prey. Everything around me blurs as I fly through the crosswalk.

Before my mind recognizes the situation, my hands are tightly clutching the bitterly chilled doorknob. Spots of raw wood inconsistently flecks the pure white paints of the door. The flimsy hinges send a chill down my spine. What if I just return to the car until they send someone to get me?

A sudden droplet of rain strikes me square on the head and cleanses me of all thoughts. As soon as I regain consciousness, it then slaps me mercilessly across the face with shame for having the thought of shirking and snaps me back to reality.

I steadily squeeze and rotate the doorknob. The hinges squeak and a warm breeze brushes through my hair.

Sydney Mazzarella 10

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Sometimes, No Words Are Needed Tanya Mendoza

Sometimes, no words are needed Frigid winter and the night silent, still.

The world is asleep, enjoying the warmth of the night.

The world is revolving and time is passing Then you look up and see the Christmas tree, the lights twinkling filling you with hope and joy.

My head against my mom's chest, A blanket around us as we lay, Her heartbeat like a song, comforts me.

You don’ t need any words in moment like this. Just the tenderness of the embrace. Just the unspoken promise that the world of peace and love will one day come to us.

Georgia West 12

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I Remember You Campbell Donley

Liz Tarrant

Hot sun concentrated on the crown of my head, Cold water splashed around me while children dived and played, A mother yelled and the lifeguard blew her whistle as kids ran by, Among all this chaos my attention focused on Nonie's unique gray-blue eyes.

My identical gray-blue eyes connected with hers, Her soft hands held my small lanky body in her arms, The tips of my fingers brushed against the water as I giggled, I giggled at the fictional song my grandmother sang.

Senseless words, thoughts that did not make sense, simply did not go together, Silly senseless words, fictional ideas spun from a fairytale -- me laughing, My grandmother’ s sweet voice filled me with the warmth of a hug; Shamelessly adoring Nonie’ s affectionate admiring attention.

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I Remember Maryclare that Day E. Bracken

Jennifer Joung 16

I remember that day When I learned my mom was in the hospital When I was filled with anxiety all night When I sprinted down the stairs to answer the phone When I stared out the car window When I inhaled the disenfectant of the hospital When I walked by the window of newborns When I wondered which one was you When I walked into the hospital room When I heard your piercing cry When I saw your jet black hair and eyes still shut When I saw the innocence and purity marked all over your face When I picked you up as gingerly as a broken winged butterfly When I felt love, although it was bittersweet When everyone swooned over you When I felt a tiny tinge of resentment I remember that day 17

Twelve Aurelia Reynolds There were twelve new things about her And he had not noticed until he slipped his hand against her forearm, interlocking his fingers with hers, Pressing her against the bed even more.

He felt her all smoothness against his Except for the rise and fall of thin, purple, marbled, skin Twelve new things about her Twelve new lines Twelve new scars.

He had committed to knowing everything about her and charting her body's map Yet these twelve lines were new.

And it had finally dawned on him how much he had actually missed.

Twelve new things about her 1. She was no longer as young as he thought she was. She had matured.

Seemed more like a young woman than the girl he remembered He pulled his lips away from hers 2. She seemed more reserved. More thoughtful. Her bubbly personality was still there. Yet there was more of a filling silence before she spoke.

He sat her up, pulling at her fingers 3. Her enticing smile had become more of a rare phenomenon as if she had finally found out what the world held and was disappointed.

He ran his fingers over her wrists, looking down

Trinity Monteiro 18

4. Her faith in him had subsided. There were times where they would spend nights on the phone till 3 am whispering the same exchange over and over again..."I miss you..."I wish you were here..." But now when he would whisper these words to her, she would reply blankly, almost robotic as if the words meant nothing to her but some response 19

she had been programmed to say.

He caught her fingers as she tried to slip through and cover up her vulnerability.

5. She had changed her friends. He didn't realize it then but once they talked more about school and her life, he had come to find that she was "hanging out with a new crowd" replacing those who she had known before with a safer cornerstone.

10. Her sense of humor had shifted. Where she would tease him before, she replaced with other jokes. Almost like she didn’ t want to insult him too much or she feared he'd leave.

He placed kisses on her forehead and dug his fingers tight into her arms, drawing her closer and closer than he ever had before.

11. She had become more contemplative. Every decision was designed for the best success rate. Every thought was pre-planned before she said the words she wanted to.

"What's this exactly?"

"It's okay...Shhh... it's- it's okay..."

6. She had always devoted herself to her work, but now it was consuming her. It wasn't like she was spending endless hours locked in her room staring at a book or silver computer screen. She now just always stressed about her work. Nothing was good enough anymore.

She couldn't settle.

He never got an answer. She just shook her head stammering out a response. "I.... I..."

12. She had twelve new things about her. Twelve new scars that he didn’ t notice until he dragged his fingers across to her hand. Twelve new scars that allowed him to see how much he had missed.

And how much he would be there for her from now on.

7. She was more content with herself. She was able to sit alone and be okay without the company. The stress of finding someone to sit with at lunch or sitting alone on a Friday night didn't bother her nearly as much as it used to.

He asked her again.

8. Her eyes were still as blue as ever. But they changed colors. He remembered them as something piercing but when he looked now they were a deep jade, more green than that cold blue.

She couldn't speak before she burst into tears.

9. She had become more accomplished. Somehow, she managed to keep up with her grades while being in what seemed like every group, and every club. She had gotten things done while he was gone, and he was only barely starting to see what she would do.

So he pulled her closer and rested his hands against her hair.

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The Deer Wes Chaput

We did not see her bound through the timothy, leap into the big Ford, bouncing, skidding, flailing, hind legs snapped off at the hock, tissue spattered on the windshield, hair stuck to the wipers, blood pooling on the road.

We saw her in the mirror, a heaving, road-burned pile.

My aunt sucked in her breath, sharp like she had been stabbed and pulled over. “"We have to slit its throat," she whispered.

We stepped out and she pulled out her pocket knife.

The deer tried to run, stumps scraping the pavement rolled into the ditch.

My aunt folded back, covered her mouth ashen-faced.

I stepped forward, took the knife.

Knelt in the ditch; the doe looked up at me drew a frantic breath and died.

Jennifer Joung 22

23

The Baseball Yard Owen Sughrue The front yard was our home field A single was to touch the red leafed tree five feet away.

A double was up the slight hill to the big tree, And a triple to the bush whose yellow leaves Meant the start of spring.

I hit with a dented t-ball bat, Wore a muddied baseball helmet, A (passed down) Red Sox jersey And white, grass-stained, baseball pants.

A home run was over the house, in left field, And I trotted around the bases with The pride and bliss of a major leaguer hitting A walk-off home run to win the World Series.

I stepped up to every at bat Kicking the dirt with my right foot to settle into my place at the plate, Holding my hand to the imaginary umpire, and seeing in my mind’ s eye the ball sail over The third base bush and the house for a home run.

The first base tree is the same size as it was then, So are the second and the third, But the field is now too small for me.

Maho Tsutsumi 24

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Sewn Anna Douglas Blood drawn onto White linen.

The white linen in my blood?

Hands not as nimble As the ladies sitting Before me.

Creating Unimaginably intricate Blankets and Table runners and Quilts and Anything imaginable displayed Everywhere, Like a museum.

These clumsy hands Cannot find a way to flutter above Such smooth textiles and Use a silver point to Fabricate a beauty that Could rival the ones of the Creations before me.

These clumsy hands Constantly pricked with pain.

But the true pain Comes from the thought of never Ever Making something as majestic As ones handed down.

Thimbles are not handed down.

But must be bought to be put on These shaking, clumsy hands.

These simple metal objects Cannot Fix the talent that was To be handed down To a supposed Chosen one.

Zoe Boardman 26

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Goat's Brother Wes Chaput

Goat's brother died in the night.

Dew wet his ears kept him fresh until morning.

He lay in the weeds up against Shapiro's dilapidated barn, the giant maple reached over shading him.

We laid him in the gator took him up on the ridge, buried him, with his brother.

Savannah Leao 28

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Newport Tennis Owen Sughrue

My feet lightly inch up toward the net. The grass below feels like a pillow. The shade from my hat gives me a clear view of my opponent.

My tennis shirt, white, collared and comfortable, sticks to the sweat on my skin. Nearly everything is silent; I can only hear the faint sound of my opponent taking his racket back. Closing in on the backhand side, my racket head is in the perfect position, just to the left of my shoulder. The racket gradually rises in my right hand. I am ready to pounce on what my opponent thinks will be a beautiful shot. The ball brushes off his strings, and his wrist whips across his body. His orange wristband traces his arm's motion. I move to a spot a foot shy of the net. My feet are planted, weight shifted to my left. My head follows the ball as it comes to my right, moving toward my forehand side, feet away from where I had expected.

It slows down, but my body slows down more. The red lettering on the ball rotates continuously. The ball passes me, hitting just short of the service line with a thud and rolling passed the baseline. The tension of my muscles releases. My racket drops. My eyes close in recognition of his good shot, and my head feels empty. The ball slows and nestles into the black protective net behind the court. The point is over; I tap my racket's strings to gain composure, and set my feet for my next shot.

Lauren Craig 30

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Inside Out Anna Douglas Broken but whole.

Faded but bright.

Glass but unbreakable.

Blue, Like the Caribbean sea.

No expression of Sadness Nor happiness Not even neutrality.

Nothing shines like the furless, tattered, torn-at-the-seams, Beautiful teddy's eyes.

Faded blue collar, Chipped eyes.

Shapeless body, Radiate worn in Comfort and love

Torn up By a pack of wolves, And yet A sea of wonder Fills his eyes.

He is always Misunderstood but His eyes show the true Care He provides.

Not everything is as It appears.

April Mihalovich 32

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The Three Sisters of Faith Marc Millette A long time ago, Three sisters were born, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, In that order saw the morn, Like many siblings, They sometimes, bit, scratched, and fought.

Do they always hate each other?

Certainly not!

A long time ago, Three sisters were born, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, In that order saw the morn, Like many siblings, They sometimes, bit, scratched, and fought.

Do they always hate each other?

Certainly not!

As siblings are similar, But not exactly the same, The sisters have similar things But with a different name, The books they find reliable, Are the Synagogue, Qur’ an, and Bible.

They worship in places, Built of stone, plaster, or birch, Called Temple, Mosque, and Church.

They share a message from above, Spread joy, Peace, Faith, And love!

Some things they have are exactly the same, As opposed to their worship houses, details, and name, They all believe in one deity, God, Allah, Yahweh; Like any three sisters united by blood, They all share one thing in their sisterhood, A father, the one who started it all, Abraham first sounded the monotheistic call, They also believe the good and those who have nerve, Go separate ways to get what they richly deserve.

And a last thing that they share, A message from above, Spread joy, Peace, Faith, And love!

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Stephanie Chen 36

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Powerful Puppets Campbell Donley

The mind is a marvelous piece of matter. Minuscule in the grand scheme of our tangible world, yet massive in the daily lives of every human. A simple mass of complexity. The brain portrays itself as a puppeteer, controlling the marionettes which represent different human body parts. Brush teeth, get dressed, make coffee, drive car, say hi, make conversation, solve problem, cook food, use telephone; commands constantly bombard the brain at all points in our day. Then the final command: sleep. The body lays down in bed and remains there as its puppeteer rests. A sleepwalker does not follow these rules; a sleepwalker acts like a puppeteer from a different puppet show. Sleepwalking is a result of a puppeteer experiencing NREM (non rapid eye movement sleep) during his show. On the other hand, most normal puppeteers experience REM (rapid eye movement) during their shows and everything runs smoothly as planned. In the occurrence of NREM, the body and mind fail to wake up at the same time. A glitch, just one miniscule glitch, allows all these actions and commands, which our brains are often overwhelmed with, happen in the silence of the night, without the puppeteer ever knowing.

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Jason Ma 40

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Come as You Are Emma Waligory

" Sam." No answer. "Sam, please talk to me." She couldn't hear any words from the other side of the phone call, only heavy breathing and soft music. " Sam. I love you, you know that right? Sam ta-"

brief distraction to keep talking, a jumble of words continuing to pour out of his mouth.

" I think I know how to make all the sadness stop. Without hurting anyone else."

" Madi, I'm here. I've just been thinking a lot. You know me, overthinking per usual." “

"All too well." Madi sighed, running a hand through her knotted hair and looking through the rear view window as she changed lanes. " I'll be there soon, 15 minutes tops." She knew she should try to sound happier, but she just couldn't bring herself to it. All she heard was the heavy breathing again for a second, before a mumbled ok, and then the line went dead. The tires of her car continued to spin down the road, not passing any others as they went. A few moments later, her phone rang again.

" Hi Sam."

" Madi, I'm just so empty inside. I feel so sad all the time."

" Why do you feel so sad? You have so many things to be happy about!" Madi said, she forced herself to smile, even though she knew he couldn't see it.

" I-I just keep disappointing everyone in my life. His voice wavered as he kept talking. Madi felt the tears start to prick the back of her eyes as she tried to stay focused on the miles of black asphalt in front of her.

" You don't disappoint anyone Sam. I'm so proud of you. Your mom and dad are so proud of you."

"Don't lie to me Madi. You've never been good at it." His voice was dry and emotionless now, as if another wave of dark thoughts had robbed him of all feelings.

" I'm not lying, I'm being honest-" A harsh honk from her left side cut Madi off distracting her for a second. Sam took this moment of her 42

" Sam-"

" I could just do it and be gone...and you...and my parents...and Joey can finally live the happy life you deserve. They won’ t have to deal with me bringing the family down anymore." His voice growing stronger and more sure of itself.

" You being gone would not make anyone happy. It would be selfish for you to think that it wouldn't affect anyone but yourself." There was silence on the line for a moment, the only sound was the music from Sam's end of the phone. Searching for something to say to fill the void, the sound on his end gave her a realization. " Maybe you should listen to something happier, you always listen to Nirvana when you're sad and I really don't think it helps."

" Kurt killed himself using a gun. That's one of the best ways to go."

" Don't talk like that. You always used to tell me that Kurt shouldn't have killed himself. That he should've just left Courtney Love and continued to make music and he would have gotten better." Madi's focus was anywhere but the road, as she swerved and drifted along the back roads of Lee. Images of them together on the swing set in her backyard, of him desperately trying to teach her how to be better at video games.

All she could think about was how happy he had been when they were younger, he was always the most optimistic person she knew. He cut through Madi's thoughts, making her come back to reality.

" It's like you're blasting out all of the demons when you pull that trigger. Imagine..." He sounded blissful, as if nothing else would make him happier.

“

" Sam you're scaring me."

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" Can't you see that this is the only way to be happy? Don't you want me to be happy?"

trying to clear them. As she removed her hand, all she saw was two bright lights straight in front of her.

" Of course. You know I want you to be happy. But I also want you to be alive."

" No Madi. I can't be happy here. I'll never be happy here." And he hung up the call. She swerved and felt as though she was going to vomit.

The steering wheel vibrated beneath her hands as she went numb, it took her a few moments to realign the car on the road. Madi's fingers fumbled around her lap in a desperate search for her phone, cursing when she couldn't find it for a moment. The back of her eyes started to ache from holding in tears for so long, so she gave into the pain, the tears started to flow freely down her cheeks. She found it finally and pressed call back on his number, silently praying. With each ring of the call, her lungs seemed to get smaller. The capability to breathe escaped Madi as the line went dead. " No no no no no Sam pick up. Pick up the phone." She re-dialed the number and stared at the road in front of her. Dusk had come and gone, and the trees on both sides of the road seemed to be closing in on her. The phone stopped ringing again, no answer. Pressing her foot down on the gas, she started mumbling a prayer to a God that she hadn't talked to in years. " Please let me get there before he hurts himself. Please Jesus Christ oh fuck I mean please." Madi gripped the steering wheel even harder with her left hand and hit call back with her right. She waited until the inevitable beep of the voicemail system, before taking a deep breath:

---

The police officer examined the cracked phone laying in the glass covered pavement, and slipped it into an evidence bag. Through the shattered screen shone notifications for a missed call and 2 new messages.

"MISSED CALL: Sam Woodley

TEXT MESSAGE from Sam Woodley: " Okay Madi. I won't do it I promise. I love you too."

TEXT MESSAGE from Sam Woodley: " See you soon."

" Samuel Henry Woodley. Please listen to me. You are one of the most special, intelligent, courageous people I know. I love you. You have so many people in your life that care about you. You're one of the smartest people I know, and you know all the words to every song on the radio and I have never argued with a more stubborn person. And I wouldn’ t trade that for anything and-," her voice caught in her throat, forcing her to swallow and breathe before continuing. " Sam. Just please don't do it. I'm almost home, I'm passing Wetherby Farm. I'll be there in 2 minutes. I love you. Please wait." She hit end on the call and threw her phone into the passenger seat, and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. The tears running down her cheeks started to blur her vision, she rubbed the back of her hand on her eyes, 44

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Stephanie Chen 46

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Addiction Trinity Monteiro

AP Language students are given an assignment known as the "Addiction Essay".� We are supposed to think about something we are "addicted" to, try and give up on it for at least a week, and then write an essay on the experience. Some people picked biting their nails, emojis, video games, etc., but the week that this assignment was assigned things changed for me. I took a different approach to this essay in tribute to a family friend who had passed due to indirect effects of her addiction the same week I received this assignment.

According to Merriam Webster dictionary addiction is as follows, 'an unusually great interest in something or a need to do or have something" or "a strong and harmful need to regularly have something or do something." I am definition one while you were definition two, but the dangerous part of both of them is the word "need" and idea of dependency. I complained about a school experiment that would end in a week and you lived your life like this in a fight that would end it.

Your addiction was not just an experiment that you could give up for a week and laugh about when you messed up. It was a lot more than a funny struggle to talk about with your friends and went further than 'Lol I cheated yesterday, but don’ t tell Mr. Watt." Your addiction was an actual addiction that your body and mind became dependent on, giving the addiction more power and control over you than mine ever could. So if that is proven to be true why was it still so hard for me, and what does that mean if I was ever to find myself in your position?

I was challenged to give up sarcasm for a week and thought it would be too easy, not realizing how dependent on it I am. I use it to express all kinds of things; when I am upset, annoyed, angry, etc. I felt as if I could not function without it. It is like my form of everyday communication, blended in with my everyday English. I felt like I needed it to carry a simple conversation with anyone. At the end of the week I gave up and realized sarcasm controls my communication. That was the scariest part of the experiment.

If I cannot control my level of sarcasm, which has no physical, mental, or emotional side effect on me, how could I control something more serious? It starts with that coffee a day, post each morning, and show each night, and if I cannot give up those insignificant things where 48

does that leave me? If I have no self-control to resist the ice cream in the freezer, the next episode button, or newest snapchat notification how would I ever be able to say no to something that could physically, mentally, and emotionally take over me? You endured that much harder battle and unfortunately lost.

From this experience and losing you I have realized dependency is never good. Letting anything have control over you to the point where you feel as if you need it to function is never good. You left, but taught me I should never give anything that much power over me that I do not know who I am without it. I should and everyone else should know who they are without any extra variables.

This was an experiment for an AP Language class for me.

This was your life.

This I could cheat on and laugh about it with friends.

This was your life.

This I complained about, because it was too hard, but funny.

This was your life.

This had me question who I am.

This consumed who you were.

This ended after a week.

This ended your life.

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Stephanie Chen 50

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John Zhou 52

Emma Waligory 53

Scary Short Story Noah Greany

The dream is never adjusted. The details are unchanging, and the conclusion never alters.

My parents used to tell me that when you dream you are falling, you always wake up before you splatter onto the ground. They said that the shock of seeing yourself crumpled into a pancake on the cold concrete, with a puddle of scarlet red blood surrounding you, would be too much for your brain to handle, so your mind forces you to wake up before you become an observer of your own demise. Your brain simply cannot envision yourself dying.

This dream isn't one where I fall, but it also isn't one where I wake up before my life ends.

As I said before, the dream is always the same. I am walking down a beach, the smell of the saltwater rapidly traveling thanks to the strong breeze. There is talk of a thunder and lightning storm coming, but I pay no attention to this. The sand is packed down, but fluffy enough to walk on it without much discomfort. There is a scent of coffee in the atmosphere, probably from the diner I can get a glimpse of once I pass the woman with the rainbow bikini. A dog begins to bark from somewhere along the beach, and I begin to see children running around with ice cream cones in one hand, their mothers' palms in the other.

As I walk past one of the children, a very innocent looking six or seven year old, she stares me directly in the eye. She is focused on me, but not too much so as to forget about her frozen treat. As I pass her, her little mouth opens and she begins to talk to me.

" You need to turn back, mister. Please. The monster is here and you are all alone. Please turn back mister." The girl's mother quickly ushers her away from me as I half-heartedly return to my walk down the beach.

As if there were a storm coming, all signs of human life begin to fade as if I've entered the tundra, and I find myself alone walking down the breezy beach. I pass abandoned umbrellas and towels, until I reach a jetty constructed from rocks. The current begins to gain speed, and the wind quickly starts to pick up the tiny grains of sand and toss them into the air. I am, for some reason, drawn to the jetty, and I begin to walk towards it. I lift my foot over the first rock and onto the second, when I realize my shoe lace is untied. I bend down to grasp the laces, when I feel an excruciatingly sharp pain in my right leg, radiating from my knee.

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I collapse onto my back, only to see what the little girl had warned me of.

A figure, larger than any human has ever been, stands over me, blocking the bright sunlight that had warmed the beach. I have never seen anything sit this still before, like a gargoyle perched atop a building.

It hovers over me long enough to lick the warm blood from my scraped knee, and sniff my body as if to preview its next meal. He peruses the area, making sure we are alone. Before long, his jaw seemingly dislocates to fit my legs inside his mouth, and soon enough he clamps down. I scream in pain until nothing is left to come out, and then I wake up, always at that exact moment. ***

I woke up today as I always do, convincing myself that the dream means nothing, and it is simply a product of stress. I showered, dressed, and left my loft a little unsettled, but happy to be awake and alive.

As I made my way to the office, I pass the little general store that sells ice cream and salt water taffy. I walked into the cafe next door to get my morning cup of coffee and muffin, and as I entered the strong breeze slammed the door behind me. I quickly devoured the muffin, and soon after, I continued on to work. As I crossed the street, I bumped into a pretty attractive woman, presumably walking her daughter to school.

The girl pushed the red hair from her face, exposing her freckles and dark brown eyes, and turned to face me.

" Turn back, mister."

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Kayla Aimone 56

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First Time Sean Huang

Exhilaration stirred with worry tiptoes deeper into my mind as I struggle to drag my suitcase behind me. It feels like a ton of rocks inside, and my body is begging me to let go. I manage to keep walking until I come to a sudden halt at the black and yellow stripes drawn on the ground in front of the counters. I jerk my head around and try to get another glance at my parents. The sight of them standing together, waving at me with an encouraging smile would have given me a little more strength and courage to carry on. However, they are buried in the incessantly wriggling crowd. My legs are reluctant to move, as if I am wearing shoes made of lead.

Finally, complaints from behind snap me back to reality and I begin moving forward. I realize that I am clutching my ticket as tightly as I can when I bring it up to the check-in counter. I must have been holding them like this for quite a while because the ticket feels crippled and damp in my sweaty hands. Usually, the muscles would have been screaming pain, but I fail to feel anything. "Um, excuse me sir." said the lady politely.

I freeze in utter fear and bewilderment as I take a panicked glimpse at the pretty lady with a smile on her face. "Sir? I need to see your passport as well please." The stone hanging from my heart disappears and I reach down to my tightly zipped pocket for my passport. " Thank you very much and enjoy your flight."

John Mabie 58

59

Zipline Taylor Rogers

I buckle into the uncomfortable harness, attach the clip that

I right myself again. The wind comes back to my face, filling me

connects me to the cable, and with a push from the guide, off I go.

with adrenaline and thrill as the rainforest canopy goes by in a

A world of green passes me as I zip through the air, giving me a

blur. Insects buzz in the trees, and the smell of fresh dew on the

view of a large iguana sitting in a Kapok tree. Fragments of the sky

leaves of the banana trees fills my nose. I can see a family of

peek through the branches intertwined ahead of me, and they be-

parrots soaring home to their nests with lunch and I laugh with

gin to clear and open up to a fuller sky as I emerge from the trees.

excitement, the smile never leaving my face. I feel like one of

A lush valley, shrouded by mist lies a hundred feet below me, the

them as I fly through the air. People say to not look down when

differing heights of the trees giving the canopy a soft, yet bubbly

you are up high, maybe that's because you could get scared due

look. Wind whips in my face, making my eyes water and my vision

to the immense height, but I don’ t understand that. What is below

blurry, but I blink the tears away so they don’ t distort any

me is just as stunning as what is above and beside me. Why any-

of the view around me. I have my knees bent and ankles crossed

one would opt to miss that, I can not comprehend. I need to take

under me, sitting in the harness. I stick my legs out, and lean back

in every ounce of this beauty before I reach my destination, and

look at the world passing hundreds of feet beneath me, upside

never experience anything quite like this again. I have to savor

down. It’ s all so different from what I see when I’ m standing. The

these moments. It is not every day that a human gets to embody

sky and ground have switched roles so now I see blue and wispy

a bird.

clouds where the ground should be, and a blanket of green covers the sky. The scorching, bright sun flashes in my eyes, and flinching, 60

Izaiah Farr

61

Heaven Kept Trinity Monteiro

At the bottom of my mind's rabbit hole‌ A mangled, spiral trail framed by trees of immeasurable height leads to a concealed heaven where you and I are kept. Slowly crossing over a glossy and frosted reflective floor is where we are to be found swinging to and fro, arm in arm, soul with soul, with tunes we make up along the way.

Just enough light sneaks through a sky of entangled branches, and shines enough so we can only see one another. And just a slight, icy breeze like a thousand sharp needles brushes us by to keep the swaying on going.

I never knew how loud one's breath could be or how bolting a heart beat could feel.

It never crossed my mind how warm one's body could remain just from the warmth of another.

Swaying back and forth, gliding the floor, but it all comes to a stop too soon.

The everlasting curse we call distance strikes as abruptly as lightning; the image of you fades away as paper in water.

Eyelids awaken.

Dreams are aborted.

However, tonight I plan to return.

When the sun goes down and moonlight illuminates the earth, I plan to fall back down into the place unlike any other, a place made for only me.

In the night I plan to return to the bottom of the rabbit hole where you await for me...

As you and I are reunited, thoughts of nerves throughout my body that I cannot feel or the unnatural pale sheet of color overcoming by hands are less significant now.

The swaying to and fro distracts the feeling of whipping winds passing, and though I cannot physically feel you holding on‌ I can.

Down the rabbit hole I only have visions of you and me together...

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Emma Waligory 64 64

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Nicole McLaughlin ‘ 16