THE MUSE 2021 SUBMISSIONS
A Letter from The Muse Board
Hello everyone, Unfortunately, this year we are unable to put out a full magazine. Due to the current pandemic situation, it was hard for us to advertise and to collect enough submissions. We did consider releasing a Mini-Muse, but as a result of some recent upheaval we found that for the limited time we had left in the year, we needed to turn our attention to ensuring the continuation of The Muse Board in coming years. It was really important to us that we had the opportunity to showcase all of the amazing submissions we did receive this year, so we reached out and were able to obtain a spot here, on the Roeper Showcase website. There are some truly amazing works, and I encourage you all to take a look!
Best wishes, The Muse Board
Cover Art DnD Group Shot, Charlotte Silverstein
White Sphinx, Alexa Dinneweth
Afterlife Subway Station by Clyde Granzeier Stone pillars jut out from the concrete below to form an orderly forest of leafless trunks Bits of mold cling to the pillars; though, they don’t go too far from them The platform I’m on seems to extend forever to either side of me As I stare out to the tracks just a few feet below where I am Am I down above or up below? I can’t say for certain, and I don’t pay much attention to that thought Flittering moths and gnats crowd the fluorescent lights that hang above the platform, Their strings extending into a nonexistent ceiling that’s replaced by a night sky full of shining stars Music from unknown speakers echoes over to me Faint and ever-present, it sounds like a familiar new tune I sway and spin with it, the only dancer on a stage not yet known What a wonderful melody to stand around waiting to I can see a well-lit booth in the distance A person of shifting figure and form giving me a patient smile from within a shining box Humming the song of the station and staring at the lights What a wonderful person to spend time waiting with On an eternal platform residing in ever-warping time I meet all sorts of future passengers dancing to the music with me After a while, a fresh train pulls into the station without any sound, inviting them in They smile and walk into a moving box of light, waving goodbye as they depart I know my own train will arrive to whisk me away I’ll board it and leave, waving goodbye to the newest person and constantly shifting figure I’m not sure where I step off will matter, but I’ll certainly be happy with it Until then, what a wonderful place to wait at
Door-Holding Idealist by Clyde Granzeier All it takes is a simple pull A shoe to the door for a steady hold A small moment of time so fleeting A short look or phrase during this meeting All it takes is a simple pull A shade released, stretched to its full A simple task, to keep out gnats A simple thanks where I live at All it takes is a simple wave A shared hello between two bound for grave A way to say you’re not alone A means to ensure a care is shown All it takes is a simple act A moment of kindness and tact To show and say we’re here for you When things seem bleak and all is through We’ll make small joy; we’ll help you see The world the way it ought to be Good still exists, that is for sure It’s what we do these small acts for All it takes is a simple pull To keep a person in hope’s hold A fleeting thing, yet here all the same Even though I don’t know your name
Honey by Clyde Granzeier
Such a short while in this beautiful place Of ever-changing dirt and grace I want to walk and run and sway and leap To smile and laugh and yell and weep In ageless woods with rustling trees By firelight in sands near seas Creation brings joy, and so too the reverse In dreams and hopes I’ll be immersed The world is how I will perceive it To see, feel, and make good I must believe it I say I love you ‘cause it could be my last I endure pain ‘cause it’s always passed I dive deep into life’s abyss I spin and fall, in shifting bliss I want to live; I think I will Drink deep of all, get a refill Love the skies, dark, cloudy, and sunny Stop drinking vinegar, partake in honey
The Book of the Beautiful End by Clyde Granzeier On my journeys I met another wanderer, who had gone from the highest peaks to the deepest abysses He carried a great number of trinkets slung across his back and a content smile across his face Of all of his possessions, one in particular caught my eye, a tattered book cradled in his arms It was bereft of all ornamentation, with mismatched parchment jutting out from beneath its cover I asked him of its origins, its purpose, to which he merely laughed and said it possessed a magic to it My curiosity piqued, I asked him what spells and enchantments resided within the pages Yet he simply placed it on the ground right at his feet, leaving one final message before departing “Read it and find out”
In the comforts of my lodgings, I sat by the fire, deciding to take the travelers advice The frontmost pages were dry and yellowed parchment of some bygone era From there, they grew newer, until the final pages felt as if they yet held some warmth of the one who wrote them I saw countless styles, shapes, and sizes of text within, yet each was somehow equally readable
As if a thousand voices all spoke in perfect clarity and unison Whoever had first written in the book likely had their name long forgotten with the passage of time And as the sun quietly set just outside my window, masked by the passage of wisps of cloud I began to read
The first few passages held proclamations of the inevitable end How all that we knew would eventually return to some inscrutable point of origin and begin anew It had likely happened before, and it would happen again How there was no grand purpose behind our creation, merely the peculiar alignment of a million chance coincidences There was no malice in the book’s prognostication, merely a statement cold and factual Like the laws the world was constructed upon Disheartened and unsettled by such grim views, I almost put the book away for good Still, I kept reading
And all at once on those old parchments I felt a shift The author became comforting, jovial even, in their next writings
“fear not the end, reader, and fear not a world lacking meaning in its existence.” “For all will begin anew when all that we know returns to whence it came,” “And a lack of meaning is the ultimate freedom, for we are not constrained to one path we must follow.” “There need not be some divine purpose for compassion and joy, for goodness is its own reward.” “There need not be some divine purpose for our existence, for it is too great a thing to be shackled by purpose.” “Remember reader that the world is neither kind nor cruel; it merely is.” “It is us who make it kind or cruel by how we view it and interact with it.” “And I intend to make it kind.”
From there arose a list of the things the author cherished in the world, vast and detailed From brief but amicable encounters with strangers to the joys of lifelong friendships From the sound of wind quietly going through trees to the cacophonous singing of crowds at festivals From the warm embrace of the morning sun peering through the window to the cool comfort of night All were written in perfect clarity by the author, care and thought put into each description Even as one author shifted to another, that care and thought remained with the continuation of the list
The joys and treasures of countless writers mended together seamlessly until the book’s end There, I felt a change
As I stared at the fire, its flames swirled with primal wonder and vibrant color Each crackle filled my ears as I heard the logs that fed it sunder and embers float like fireflies The pale blanket of snow just outside the window had new layers woven onto it from the sky above And through the window I could feel a piercing cold creep through into my abode, held back by the fire Everything was so much more vivid, and I pondered if this was the book’s enchantment These things had always been there, yet only now did I see their value I noticed that no author had quite detailed how these things felt in this moment So, I made an addition
I found paper at the back of the book not once there, plenty of room to store my thoughts With a pen freshly acquired, I began my own description, each idea turned to strokes of ink I would do so for many years to come, writing each newfound appreciation I uncovered
On my journeys, I met another traveler who had freshly set out into the world He stared curiously at the book I carried, to which I told him it held a magic to it He asked what I meant by this claim, and I stared at the book, filled with all I cherished My work done, I laid the book at my feet, departing with one simple message “Read it and find out”
The Crows by Clyde Granzeier
I can hear them as I sing in the autumn air Their music all around Sharing their own songs in a mutual performance Cheerful choir I can hear them as I study in old brick and older words They shout good omens from the windy world outside Telling me to never fear, for they’ll stick by me while I work Kindly scholars I see them as I retreat home Seeking comfort and rest Perched above the noise below They congregate Feathered voids in front of the sun Always there, always together Patiently staring below They remain constant I silence my music I stop my movement I look out the window And I listen They reply, as they always do
Passion by Ellie Barron Within the heart burns a fire, I’m sure you’ve heard it before. Burning hot, Burning bright, Burning at its core. Fueling passion but leaving scorch marks that were never there before. It’s warm and comforting until it hurts, Searing pain and blisters burst. Driving deep into the night, Heart on fire, soul alight. Oh, but whatever would we do? Coals and ashes calm, But all too subdued. Fire fire, burning bright. I hope you singe me all my life.
Stargazer by Ellie Barron
A Story Concept By Gina Galligan It was a normal afternoon for the quartet of teens loitering by the gas station that the teens called home base. Today, after filling up on slushies. The teens had a mission, today they were all going to engage in some friendly competition. The night before they had been musing of how to climb to the top of the gas station sign, they had all vowed to come up with their own unique way to get to the top of the sign. And so here the group stood slurping their slushies and at least one of them turning a light shade of green after drinking said slushies a little too fast. “All right. We have gathered here today to scale that sign. A nobler quest has never been attempted,” said the oldest and selfappointed leader of the gang, Aurora. “We should get me out of the way, as I am going to scale it the fastest. Better for all of you to see me than worry about me crushing you,” smirked a very typical looking teen boy, Xavier was known for his hubris, what did people say about Icarus? Aurora smiled, and stepped out of the way to give Xavier enough space to do whatever he was going to do. Xavier put his hands up as if to frame the scenery, he centered his “camera” on the ground and the paned up to the sign. After finishing his ritual Xavier took off in a sprint toward the sign, when he reached the bottom of the sign he jumped. Instead of a normal sized jump Xavier shot up, to his surprise he overshot the sign and had a lot more to go up before he could come down. Instead of staying calm and performing a counter spell Xavier decided to just scream his head off. “Is he going to stop himself before he leaves the atmosphere?” Keegan asked as he looked up at his friend. “I think he’s going to the moon,” Zak, Keegan’s twin brother, exclaimed. “Oh come on, Xavier just come down,” yelled Aurora. As she finished her words Xavier came crashing down, it had been a quick
spell and Aurora hadn’t put much thought into it because as Xavier fell, he hit a flock of geese and her spell broke sending Xavier flying back up toward the sky. Aurora let out an angry sigh, then she repeated her words, this time with more care to give it strength. Xavier finally landed on the ground and the contest could continue.
“Well I think it’s our turn,” Keegan turned to Zak.
“I would have to agree,” Zak gave a wink to his brother. The twins made their way center stage, then turned toward each other. For the twins ritual they performed a handshake, a very complicated handshake, when it ended Keegan turned into a cat and Zak picked him up and hurled him at the sign. The idea had been that a cat would go farther because it was smaller. After hurling his brother Zak ran toward the sign staying under his brother. Before Keegan reached the sign, he turned back to his normal person form, this was planned of course. At this point Zak jumped up and Keegan grabbed his hand and used his strength to throw his brother up. This force sent Keegan straight down into the ground where he landed with a thud, but Zak had made it to the top of the sign. Cheers erupted from the teens at the bottom of the sign as the first successful scale finished. When the twins rejoined the group they were met with pats on their backs. Juno, the smallest of the group, took her chance to assume starting position. Juno stood humming to herself, the tune was specific and seemed to double itself, which it actually did. A second source of music was slowly appearing, a duplicate of Juno. Juno sighed it was fluffy, her magic always ended up fluffy, but she would make do. Juno’s duplicate sprouted fluffy wings and picked her up and carried her to the top of the sign. This was also met with cheers. After fifteen minutes everyone but Aurora had gone, and it was her turn. When she stepped forward silence fell across the group, everyone waited in awe to see what she was going to do. Aurora cleared her throat. “Cars, up,” Aurora said clearly, the silence broken only by her words. She had made the cars at the gas station float up to the top to form a staircase. She then walked up the stair of cars and sat down on the sign.
The Get Well Card by Melanie Roop
searching eyes, longing hope the muscles tense on the rope the get well card, my old bandaid the get well card, my new grenade peaceful dark, shadows fade the tone’s serene, the hue is jade the distant figure, boosted dope the distant figure tends to grope reddened room, door that locks two alone, likes to stalk the nearing figure, closing in the nearing figure wants to win i want to leave my house but it’s not my house, it’s haunted by a ghost i want to leave my room don’t want the eventual tomb by the hands of the one that i fear the most
cornered thoughts, glinting stare somehow true, need to prepare the close up figure, shut the gap the close up figure, my kneecap
shortened breaths, sprint away wild goose chase, i’m the prey the nearing figure, closing in the nearing figure needs me in i want to leave my town but it’s not my town, it’s haunted by a ghost i need to get away if i want to feel safe in my body and my mind is the one that i fear the most panicked entrance, hyperventilate glance around, i’m okay but the get well card, my old bandaid the get well card, my new grenade
the get well card is on my desk the get well card is in my head the get well card is the ghost the get well card is my overdose
Parakeet by Kaitlyn Gruber