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CREATIVE CONTENT TO BRIGHTEN YOUR MONDAY! years ago, she fails to remember

at my hear t line and know how

some details, but believes the man

it feels even before I do. I wish

in the booth that day was absolutely

someone could look at my head line,

a psychic. Did he predict the lives of

my life line, and my fate line and tell

my grandmother and mom that day?

me ever ything I want to understand

Did he look into the palms of their

about myself. I think it would be, in

hands and into their soul? Did he

a sense, refreshing to know there is

feel knowledge beyond our ever yday

more than what we see.

understanding? Unfor tunately, I don’t know if I’m back and for th with the idea of

VOL. XII ISSUE. 6 DECEMBER 2, 2019

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (LINE)

I’ll ever believe it. Even if I had

the psychic. Similarly to how I feel

practically undeniable proof that

about ghosts, religion, and aliens,

someone could tell my future, I don’t

I am a skeptic, but an open skeptic

think I’d allow myself to comprehend

who deep down kind of wishes these

the experience.

phenomena would be true. My mother and grandmother did, Yes, psychic practices can be

though. They saw, felt, understood

peculiar and flamboyant and proven

and accepted the words of a man

to be fake. But what if someone

sitting in a booth downtown. Maybe

could look into the creases of my

they are the tough ones for allowing

hands, where for my entire existence

their beliefs to be dynamic and their

– let me tell you the bizarre stor y of

my joints have bent, and my palms

minds to be open to something as

how.

have folded and see something I’m

wild as a psychic, rather than me who

blind to. Someone with blood and

would probably be too afraid to even

a beating hear t like me yet can they

have a reading done.

third year cammie caldwell

I’m an only child because of a psychic

My mother, grandmother, and uncle attended spiritual convention in the

feel past my skin and five long fingers

downtown Congress Center about

and see what will occur as time

twenty years ago. Amid the aisles of

passes.

candles, books, religious brochures,

I wish someone could simply look

So, I’ll stay content with not knowing what my hear t line says, because psychics can’t be real anyway.

and demonstrations, they passed by a man in a booth of fering psychic readings. The peculiarity of the man as well as their own curiosity drew them in and they decided to get a reading done. My grandmother went first and walked out of the private room looking a little stunned. She didn’t want to share what she learned, like her mind hadn’t really caught up with what transpired during the reading. This made my mother ner vous and yet her turn was soon under way. I was a one year old at the time and my mom wanted to know if she would, or should, have another baby. The psychic gave her a concrete no. This, amongst other pieces of evidence from the reading, came true. Now, since it was so many

THE BELL VOL. XII, ISSUE 6

photo by atithi patel


SPECTACLE

compiled by The Chapel Bell photo team

THE CHAPEL BELL: A POSITIVE PRESS PUBLICATION


ILLUSION

compiled by The Chapel Bell photo team

THE BELL VOL. XII, ISSUE 6


CENTERED second year carlie gambino Perpetual motion of the boats, benches, and burnt lights encapsulates the pendulum world. Boats cut through waves like butter, bobbing up and down, lurching side to side. Reflecting images paint the waves, oscillating from opaque replicas to glittering bits of tinged light. We sit in perpetual motion, the bench glides us in and out. The far ther we swing for ward, the more unsteady our vessel. Rickety wood and rusty hinges guide our path closer and closer to a shimmering sun graced sea. The ocean loudly whispers into our ears. It’s a cacophony of gurgling foam, greetings of waves to the dock, and screaming gulls directing one another. The harbor forever remains a stable constant despite waves and boats and faces that leave and return and leave again. They follow the tide, and never linger in the middle. A lamp rests af ter fulfilling its duty, It remains a centerpiece for a ever shif ting ship.

photo by noah buchanan

Swinging lef t to right Back and for th Side to side it hangs central. It anchors itself in its ever-changing waving world Even as ever ything rocks aggressively of f balance The lantern stands to remind that all things must cross the middle in order to transition.

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THE BELL: VOL. XII, ISSUE 6  

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