Penchant 8.2: Meliora by The Penchant

T H E PENCH ANT MELIORA

THE ECHOES (回聲)

by grace koo and sophia luo

“tomorrow morning, / the sun will tell you / how lucky you are. ”

Irvington High School’s Creative Writing Club is a student-run, interest-based club dedicated to providing a welcoming environment for writers of all kinds to convene and share their ideas outside of an academic setting. Members get a taste of publication through submitting to The Penchant, our online literary magazine. Meanwhile, monthly prompts, in-club competitions, and major writing contests are provided to allow members to explore the implications of writing, improve on their own techniques, and receive feedback from their fellow peers. Overall, our collective mission is to enable the students of Irvington to write what they wish and have their voices heard.

All images used are either submitted to us or public domain, CC0 photos.All rights remain reserved to their original owners, for those that have speciﬁed such guidelines.

Photo Credits:

Cover Photo by Feyza Tuğba on Pexels

i| Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

iii| Photos by Bar Popko (left) & Lisa Fotios (right) on Pexels

iv| Photos by Felipe D'Sousa (left) & Summer Stock (right) on Pexels, Jennifer Grismer (middle) on Unsplash

1| Photo by Çağrı KANMAZ on Pexels

2| Photo by Александр Максин on Pexels

3| Photos by Vincenzo Di Giorgi on Unsplash

4| Photos by David Courbit (left) & Zen Maldives (top) & Stefano Zocca (right) on Unsplash

5| Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash

6| Photos by Patti Black (bottom) & Salvador Rios (top)on Unsplash

7| Photos by Zachary Kadolph & lucas Favre (thin strip) on Unsplash

8| Photo by Zachary Kadolph on Unsplash

9| Photo by jonthesquirrel (train) on Unsplash

10| Photos by Juliano Costa (radio) & Dominik Kiss (ﬁre) & jonthesquirrel (train) on Unsplash

11| Photos by Sergei A (background) & Jenny Uhling (circle) on Pexels

12| Photos by Sergei A (background) & Anastasia Shuraeva (circle) on Pexels

13| Photo by Simon Berger on Pexels

14| Photo by Kaique Rocha on Pexels

15| Background photo by Frank Luca on Unsplash

17| Photos by abcvector (leaf) on Vecteezy & tree (ﬂower) on Pngrree

19| Background photo by João Vítor Duarte on Unsplash

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the penchant

Irvington Creative Writing Club

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Sophie Leung

CONTENT EDITORS

Sophia Luo

LAYOUT EDITORS

Eliana Yang Yvonne Yun

CONTENT

Francis Luo

Sophia Luo

Sravya Putcha

Vinna Shen

LAYOUT

Khloe Fong

Evelyn Ji

Sophie Leung

Vinna Shen

Eliana Yang

Yvonne Yun

MELIORA

poetry

1| Parasite

Yang

3| Bubbling

Asphyxiation

Sophie Le

7| The Corrupted

Remedy

Adithe

9| If I Had A

Soundbite

Luo

11| Eyes On Fang

5| by Croak and Coak

13| the echoes (回聲) by Grace Koo and Sophia Luo

I cry myself to sleep every night the soft light of the moon does nothing to soothe me I just have to keep drifting

every day I reach the shore and watch you funny-looking creatures kick up sand and sing your songs

the sun boils me alive

I gurgle and try not to choke on macroscopic filaments buried within the sand

shadow venom seeps into my veins by the gallon you make me swallow leaving irreversible stains

why would you do this to me?

make me sluggish with poison a metallic taste of something other than blood

my children are dying quicker than they should be stolen and devoured by you creatures above

cast your webs to take and take my children can’t breathe without me my salt tears seem to make them taste sweeter

if only the moon would stop dragging me on if only I can go to sleep forever in peace

by eliana yang

parasite, yes that’s what you are you take my life and give nothing in return

I’ll sweep your grey cities clean and drag them to the depths below a ritual of reckoning ‘til your atonement sets me free

Yet, sometimes you leeches are caring enough to cut the nets extract the toxins just enough so I can breathe again

I will not bow with gratitude Hope is my anchor, steadfast and sure so I’ll claw relentlessly at the borders we share

I

await the day you see me more than just a parasite’s feast but the lifeblood you cannot live without

A delicate hope before we drown as one.

[i]

Bubbles swirl, popping froth revealing the bobbing waves, as I’m suspended between two worlds: growth and guilt, air and water.

Droplets of mist form delicate circles and drip down the clear eye-lid.

Indents travel circles around “doors to the soul.”

Artificial as they are, the goggles keep me protected from the sting (of guilt).

Protected, from what?

The memory of—

[ii]

Fisheye lens point of view puts things into perspective.

I am now them, in what were their last moments.

My wet curly strands, tangled, are ready for the salt soup,

somehow warm, naturally heated by sunlight.

Unlike the sterile 10-gallon tank, artificially warmed by an outlet in the wall,

The gossiping froth whispers in my ear, blames me for it all.

For confining them between algae-infested glass walls when they should have been free.

Would they have been better off free?

I scream— but instead of noise, bubbles form.

[iii]

Flocks of birds soar underwater.

But, these are not birds and they cannot soar.

Instead, with their luminous scales and fins, they are diving—

What was that?

I said dying.

The sea-birds make circles

Around my feet, which make swift kicks to

Dispel water and keep afloat— a desperate, selfish action.

Was it my need for air that let them perish?

My toes wrinkle in grief from the memory.

Drinking in, from a straw, tasting salt-air.

“Fish inhale eighty times per minute”

Is this what that feels like?

Quick and needy, I’m waiting for the next taste of oxygen.

BUBBLING ASPHYXIATION

by sophie le

But, as my lungs expand, the oxygen becomes foreign. And I choke, struggle with the air as my fingers tenderly brush the glass. Peer in and… bellies up, eyes glazed— but still accusing, dissatisfied with their fleeting lives.

[iv]

There was no air left to spare; One by one, the underwater birds fell from their sky because of me

The bubbles incessantly accuse me, whispering that I sent the fish away to the place where foam rises; cast their ephemeral lives to silent screams of regret. Would they have been better off free?

[vi]

Surfacing is difficult. The ocean doesn’t want to let go; waves weeping, hushing, screaming for me to stay. But, I don’t listen, not anymore.

Breaking through the watery skies, I gasp for air, just as sweet and soothing as I remember.

And even as the residual bubbles cling to me, oozing of blame and guilt, they’re weaker, quieter.

[v]

Or was it enough to offer them a home?

In their death, I see myself— not as the one who let them perish, but as the one who tried to save them.

As the foam clears, I think I see a sea-bird just under the surface, swimming effervescently— free.

The breeze swoops in and I take a breath, in and out,

breathing this new promise of growth.

I too breathe underwater, desperate for air in an ocean of guilt.

By the shoreline of the pond, lurking in the shallow waters, is a small green tadpole dreading tomorrow.

The water is comforting, the surface threatening.

It would like to stay down in the silky smooth waters where it belongs, thank you very much.

Only

soon it won’t belong.

Soon it will be expected to walk up there, with the rest of the soon-to-be frogs.

They don’t seem to share its apprehensions. But it will go up there like the others, it already knows. It will crawl up there with the newly sprouted legs.

The thought makes it feel like one of the sharp, ugly rocks at the pond’s ﬂoor; completely powerless.

The night stretches long, and its legs grow longer. At daybreak, it struggles to breathe. And when it finally faces the inevitable… It's somehow beautiful. Smooth, beautiful rocks and logs wait in piles, providing a shield from the world, which seems less threatening and more glorious each minute. Branches hang tantalizingly, as if beckoning the tadpo–frog–to start leaping around. And just like that, tomorrow becomes a wonderful thing to think of, with all the potential the newfound ability to leap offers.

BY CROAK AND COAK

Inside the house, they press their face to the window, watching. What a fantastic idea it was to build a frog habitat in the backyard. Urban areas really could do with some more frogs–perhaps they ought to tell the neighbors about their new little pond…

by francis luo

If I had a soundbite to remember the world by I.

The silence of the night is the mumbling wind and thunder, the steady cricket chirps and the horn of the cargo train, the BART shouting indistinctly from its elevated track. A plane flies close overhead, dopplering in and out. I shut the window and remove it from my reality. II.

We share a language, but not a tongue. Your words raggedy at the corners, some of them dog-eared with special significance, serifs and swashes hanging from a thread. Syllables like boulders in a rockslide. And my sterile speech, white with a touch of yellow, words slipping off a conveyor belt that jams at the end of every sentence. A slight rattle in the machinery.

EYES ON

by serena fang •

●

Eyes on the concrete creek

Gray uniform squares and foggy air

Stiff strides cause frozen joints to creak

Birds are silent foliage for trees laid bare

Avert your eyes from the horizon

The wind flutters and mourning doves crone

Ochre skies and soft clouds creep

Blushed and brushed with a magenta tone

Look, the sun rising from their sleep

Raise your eyes to the horizon

The heart of heaven beats

Golden beams and prismatic seams

Cheery cacophony of chirps and tweets

Rouses vapid dazes to vivid dreams

Keep your eyes on the horizon

“ Look, the sun rising from their sleep

Raise your eyes to the horizon ”

the echos (回聲)

the echos (回聲) the echos (回聲) &

by grace koo

sophia luo

警鐘在我心裏響起閉上眼睛，

我突然能理解我媽媽的畏懼。

深深的諧振令人麻痹，淚痕流下

我的臉頰，

身體

一直

顫抖，還有什麽好説的？

每天晚上，月亮都告訴我你的愿望。

每天晚上，星星都在哭泣。

聼得見嗎？

好像是宇宙的空音，騰空的回聲。

如果星星墜落，

你還會許願嗎？

os (回聲

II.

旋律在你心裏唱起快張開眼睛，你突然能感到你媽媽的愛情。

深深的懷念令人心疼，笑容釘在你的臉頰上，身體一直顫抖，怎麽可能不説？

明天早上，太陽會告訴你你有多幸運。

明天早上，鳥兒都會鳴叫。

你不想聼嗎？

這就是宇宙的交響曲，你夢想和願望的回聲。

如果星星墜落，你不必再許願了。

I.

alarmbellssoundinmyheart iclosedmyeyes suddenlyiunderstood mymother’sfear deeplyresonating paralyzing,teartracks flowingdown my cheeks, mybody always shaking, whatelsewastheretosay?

everynight, themoontellsme yourdreams. everynight, thestarsweep. canyouhearit? almostliketheemptysoundoftheuniverse, theechoofthesoaringsky. ifthestarsfell, wouldyoustillwishonthem?

II.

melodiessoundinmyheart quick,openyoureyes you’llsuddenlyfeel yourmother’slove deeplyyearning aheart-wrenchinglove,asmile pinnedon your cheeks, yourbody always shaking, howcouldyounotsayathing?

tomorrowmorning, thesunwilltellyou howluckyyouare. tomorrowmorning, thebirdssing. don’tyouwanttohearit?

thisisthesymphonyoftheuniverse, theechoofyourdreamsandwishes. ifthestarsfell, youwouldn’tneedtowishonthemagain.

“Reach”

The ﬂowering vines, arms outstretched, make ﬁnal touches to their painting of the sky. Taken at Fremont on November 23rd 2024

“superstition”

An endless bed of clovers shimmering in morning dew-perhaps you’ll ﬁnd the 4-leafed one. Taken at Fremont on November 27th 2024

“blood of the Land”

The rolling hills bleed pomegranate-colored grass, taking in each hit from the crashing waves. Taken at Bodega Bay on September 8th 2024.

“frozen”

The glass birds are stuck mid-ﬂight, forever hoping to reach their destination. Taken at Fremont on August 29th 2024

“diaphaneity”

The transparent petals of the ﬂower resemble the colors of a sunset. The thin pink sheets let the sunlight pass through their delicate patterns; perhaps everything becomes clear and transparent when picked apart this close. Taken at Fremont on September 12th 2024.

F I E L D”

The inspiration for this piece is heavily referenced from the scenery in Genshin impact. I wanted to try drawing the beautiful environment in the game and the adorable creatures.