TU Review May 2015

TIFFIN UNIVERSITY

VOLUME 1, ISSUE 1

T HE MAY, 2015

T U

R EV I EW

SPECIAL DRAGON WRITERS EDITION

“NEVER SAW IT COMING”

BY LAWRENCE BLACKWELL Peering off into the sunset of life

Reflecting on the snapshot of what was reality and INSIDE THIS ISSUE:

POETRY BY ALAFIA

Pondering what is to come, I am in shambles 2

HAIRSTON

Being on my third leg of existence, it is only now That I begin my inquiry into the books of life…

“EQUALITY IS NOT EQUAL” POEM BY MALIK BLACKWELL

3

CHAPTER OF TELANYA AND THE DOOR BY MICHAEL O’DONNELL

4-

“I MISS HOME”

7

Written on papyrus scrolls And force-fed from the womb In reality, I didn’t have a chance

7

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish They pressed from birth, Like Giles Corey

POETRY BY XINYI YU “BETWEEN” POETRY BY XINYI YU

8

“MY FIRST COMPUTER” ESSAY BY FRAN SMITH

8-

CONTACT INFORMATION

10

And nonchalantly I helped load the bricks upon my chest Never realizing how heavy are words Whistling with my last breath,

9

Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish Eyes wide shut I attempted to navigate the puzzle of life Wondering how you can be forced to see what they want you to see, then be blamed for being average.

“LAKE CADDO THUNDERSTORM”

BY SHERYL NELMS

Lightening sizzles Midnight Into electric Fingers

Clouds

Feeling pendulous

Compels them To blush Fluorescent pink

“Hollow Birds”

By Alafia Hairston

“Excuse me, you're in my seat”

By Alafia Hairston

Hollow birds sing they fill themselves with big breaths, singing note-less melodies, that only I can hear.

Excuse me you're in my seat.

I've been waiting in line.

Standing.

Feet blue and black from its labor.

I've been working for years and haven't had a chance to sit there in my seat.

Her ears bled out the first time she heard a lion’s voice.

The ground they left me with is barren..., fruitless.

Simply searching for a sapling to plant my seeds with Not just any old tumbleweed but a sweet and honey scented one.

But that gruesome wind blew from east to west and back from east to west again It sucked my sapling dry and carried its hopes and dreams away from me.

Leaving me with nothing but the bitter wind and the barren land.

I'm all out of fruit and seeds and all I seem to have is barren land, bitter wind, and empty, dry hands.

Someone tell me why did the wind blow my sapling away.

Now I'm empty handed and ain't got no fruit neither.

Excuse me, you're in my seat.

These lungs are all out of breath, I've just got done chasing the paper a few blocks down the road for a read, you see it's my time to sit so Excuse me, you're in my seat.

I've been walking for months. Years. Decades.

I've been walking and my feet have yet still to rest.

Excuse me, you're in my seat.

Big Mom's just got done in the kitchen And I don't want to be late so Excuse me, you're in my seat.

I've read all about the pain on the way and I'll still take my chances.

I've seen all the horrid that man can do on the way.

I didn't have a place to stay.

These hollow birds are singing rich songs that hold empty My feet are cracked and the blood has dried out from the cold winds and dry notes. sands.

Tell me can you hear their tune?

I've come a long way Because all these motha fuckas are clappin' to the beat. and haven't had a drink for the echoes of miles.

And yet the land is still dry, the wind is fierce-some, and I'm, I'm still empty handed.

Excuse me, you're in my seat.

I haven't slept in ages and my mirages are no longer of sleep, And what about my sapling? but of walking to my seat.

Am I expected to let the wind carry my seeds all round Now that I'm here I'm going to have to ask you to please, the globe, You know now that I am the only one who can plant Excuse me, you're in my seat. that beauty.

No words are needed.

Just get your punk ass up out of my seat.

Or so I thought.

I've walked my journey Hollow birds continue to sing and it's time for me to sit my old black ass down in my seat They fill themselves with the butchering wind. before Him. And yes, I'm still the only one So if you please, who can hear that bitter tune Excuse me, you're in my seat.

“Equality is Not Equal” Poem by Malik Blackwell

Do you see it?

Look at what the average eye cannot see Do you feel it?

You can be what the average person cannot be Success in The World is not necessarily based on dexterity It depends on the clarity of the road to prosperity Don't mistake the chase for popularity to bring irregularity Everyone accepts the difficulty in life to become a celebrity Experience the lies Accept that everyone dies Live out your lives And embrace your instinctual drives We enjoy our life until the tables have turned We think life's easy until everything must be earned Everything we know and love about ourselves is learned So who teaches us that there are people that deserve to set the fires and people that deserved to get burned?

Who taught us that your success depends on your pigment?

Everyone on this earth is heaven sent Who taught us that to differentiate humanity meant a lack of equality We cannot look at skin as light and dark or else we are embracing it's duality Our current world is in Ignominious distraught Pleas of black people that wish to be free and pleas of white people tired of being fought Don't we understand the pain we have brought?

Don't we comprehend the morals we have been taught?

Our minds have no resemblance Although we may share thoughts and ideals Two great minds may have semblance But in the end, one can never fully understand how the other feels As long as there is diversity There can never be equality For we as people cannot understand the ignominy Of downgrading humanity Courage isn't the absence of fear Courage is the absence of the will to run away Give freedom to the words people do not normally hear Come out and say the things people do not normally say How hard is it to be different?

How hard is it to live in an equal society?

Is it as hard as it is to repent?

Or as hard as it is to practice sobriety?

The evanescence of the morals in our society continue to amaze me It's like people don't realize what's going on and don't know what to do I'm going to fight for the equality of humanity in our society to create the image of what America is supposed to be There are millions of roads to take, decide which one is for you Open your eyes and soak in the sight Hold the darkness of the world in a new light We want the world to fall to equality’s might But we have to recognize each other as equals to put up a fight Your own lifestyle is what you must follow Give your words freedom and restrain the will to swallow Live for today in case your death is tomorrow Cherish your days and live without sorrow

TELANYA AND THE DOOR by Michael O’Donnell

On the fifth day after the apparition, Telanya and her faithful guardian reached the foot of the mountains. Though the morning sun was at their backs, the pair walked now in shadow, for the foothills had risen high enough to hide them from its rays. The land was increasingly split by sheer rock faces, such that any travelers were forced to follow a few walled roads.

Telanya paused when the hollow suddenly ceased its meander. From this place, it proceeded, straight as a spearshaft, ever-deeper into the mountain. “It seems I chose correctly,” she announced. “This must lead to the gates of Ketan.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is astonishing how, even after a thousand years, there is still so much magic here—especially from this point forward.”

The great panther likewise surveyed the shadowed path before them. “Lady,” he intoned, “I must ask you to take caution. This place would be perfect for an ambush.

You must consider the possibility that you have been baited into a trap.”

The sorceress set off again without sparing him a glance. “I am more than capable of handling any danger, Hamash. I do not sense anyone else here, nor do I sense anything resembling a spell of concealment.” With a flick of her fingers, she sent a small stone flying far ahead. “However, you are correct that we cannot afford to be complacent. If the spells that carved this hollow are still here, there is no telling what the Akmetar may have left behind.”

Her guardian swished his tail as he fell in behind her. “You could do with a healthy allotment of caution in general,” he admonished. “You receive a vision from a spirit who claims to be from another world. You set off to do what it asks the very next morning. You make no preparations. You bring no provisions. You choose the most impractical of traveling clothes–” “That is enough, Hamash,” Telanya snapped. Her hand traveled absently to where her hair was bound in a tight bun by a golden chain too fine to make by any means but magic. “I have no need of mundane protections from sun and wind; and should the need for them arise, I can conjure them.” The hand at her head moved now to the jeweled tiara above her brow. “Likewise, I am able to conjure whatever sustenance either of us might desire, as the past days have proven. And I most certainly am not doing anyone’s bidding but my own. This ‘Gantua’ made a number of fascinating claims that I intend to investigate. Should he—or anyone else—try to trick me, he will suffer the consequences.” To emphasize the point, her hand stroked the hilt of Belafuek at her shoulder. “In truth, at times like this, I begin to wonder why I keep you around.”

At this, the great panther snarled. “I made a promise to your mother, Telanya, and I intend to keep it. So long as I live, I shall protect you— whether you wish it or not.”

The sorceress gave him a glance of contempt, but otherwise continued as before. Her fingers entwined in the many strands of precious beads about her neck. Neither said anything more as the mountain loomed ever-higher above them. Ahead, their path came to its end. The rising walls folded over into an arch of colossal size, carved with intricate, intertwining strands. Beneath, the whole opening was sealed by a great slab of stone.

Telanya gazed up at the imposing edifice, looking uncertain for the first time. Hamash sat on his haunches when she halted. “What do you propose to do now, lady?” he inquired. “Perhaps, if the front gate is closed, we should seek a side entrance.”

The sorceress turned to him with fists clenched in fury. “I am heir to all the akmet, Hamash. I will not sneak through some back entrance like a thief! Besides,” she added, looking back to the arch, “during the Akmetar, Noctmi destroyed this city in person. He would have been able to sense as well as I can, seeing all the paths below. I do not doubt he sealed them well enough to prevent escape.”

The panther pawed the earth, looking thoughtful. “He trapped them and brought down the caverns on their heads? I fail to understand why any would live underground.”

His charge turned to him with a smile. “The people who lived here were Ketsi, Hamash. They would have stopped him with ease. No, Noctmi filled the caverns with water from top to bottom. The legends say only Ketmi herself escaped. She took her vengeance upon Noctan a month later.”

Hamash abruptly stood, his tail fluffed in alarm. “If the city was filled with water,” he said slowly, “and you open the gate…”

Telanya turned to him with an amused smile. “Fear not, my friend. The waters are long gone. Let me show you.” The sorceress led the way to the great door, her guardian cautiously following. “Some of these cracks go all the way through,” she explained, running her hands across the surface. “If there was water behind, we would see it coming out.” She closed her eyes, seeing the invisible. “This is most distressing,” she said after a time. “I will not be able to open the gate from this side. The spell to open and close it is still here, but it seems only a blood descendent of Ketmi can activate it.” She stepped back, gazing up at the great stone in wonder.

Hamash yawned and stretched his paws as far ahead as possible. “Can you not simply disintegrate the stone?”

The sorceress studied her hands, restoring the gold leaf on her fingernails. “I cannot,” she admitted bitterly. “The stone is shielded beyond my understanding; such that the spell of opening is the only one permitted to touch it. Clearly, I have much to learn from Ketmi.”

The panther heaved a great sigh. “Then it seems we have come all this way for nothing. We should depart at once. I do not wish to spend another night in this easy-ambush land.”

His charge’s eyes flashed in anger. “We shall do no such thing!” Slowly, she looked up at the looming arch. “This door is a test, put here to ensure only a worthy heir may enter—and I intend to claim my birthright.”

With deadly focus, Telanya turned to the gate before her and bent her mind to its destruction. She tried hurling stones against it. She tried blowing sand. She made fire too intense to look upon. She tried filling the cracks with ice. She tried everything she could think of—and one by one, her schemes failed. As the westering sun cast the whole valley in the shadow of the mountain, the sorceress at last exhausted her patience. With a great cry of frustration, she hurled the most powerful blast of flame she could conjure against the stone. The impact reverberated through the land itself, yet still the stone stood.

Telanya fell to her knees, her breath heavy. “There must be a way,” she declared. “There must be–” She stopped without finishing her thought, for a motion hurrying though the shadows caught her attention. The motion was fast and erratic, but made barely a sound. On impulse, the sorceress pulled the thing closer, to better see in the dying light. When she beheld its countenance, a smile graced her lips.

“Hamash,” she announced, “I hold in my hand the solution.”

The great panther looked upon the small creature squirming helplessly above her fingers. “I fail to see how a strelnash solves anything, lady.”

Telanya turned to her guardian. “Do you not see? This beast has come from inside the gate. I cannot get through, for I am too large; but what if that could be changed? This lowly hoarder can pass freely, and I can gain her power.”

Hamash stiffened. “Lady, you are not seriously suggesting self-transfiguration?”

The sorceress regarded her captive intently. “That is exactly what I am suggesting. Do you remember the tilemarat’s advice when we left?”

Her guardian’s eyes narrowed. “I recall he admonished you against arrogance.”

“He said, ‘Be ready to humble yourself; for when you do, you shall be worthy.’ He knew, Hamash. He knew, somehow. If the ways of the other akmet are cut off, perhaps it is the way of Byami that we must take.”

“I do not believe that is what he meant. He also said that the slightest misstep in transfiguration can kill. Or do you forget your lessons?

You are barely a beginner in this domain.”

The sorceress’ eyes flashed with anger. “And you forget who I am! I am the Akmetrelat, created to take the place of all the akmet. I am the most gifted magic-wielder in a thousand years, trained by the tilemarat himself. Magic comes to me by nature—without thinking even. How could I not succeed?” She stopped as a squeal of agony split the air. She turned to find flames licking at the helpless strelnash. Telanya stopped them immediately, but not before the unfortunate creature was burned naked. “See what you made me do!” she scolded Hamash.

“You must not die, not before I learn your essence, hoarder,” she said to the strelnash. The sorceress pushed a wave of healing magic over the creature, but it produced only scars, not fur. Her face fell with disappointment. “We are…fortunate, Hamash,” she murmured, “that disfigurement does not change essence.”

The sorceress extended a hand, directing a spell of detection to the creature. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and stepped back. “I have the essence in my mind,” she announced. “I… did not expect such a simple creature to be so complicated.”

“What of the strelnash?” her guardian inquired. “If you release it in this state, it will not live long.”

“Do not speak to me!” his charge snapped. “I must hold the essence in my mind. If I forget even a single detail, the result could be disaster.” She breathed deeply again. “However, you are…correct. It would be…merciful to end her suffering.” With a twitch of her fingers, Telanya threw the creature against the wall across from them. “It is done,” she breathed.

With a last, regretful look at the stained rock, the sorceress closed her eyes to focus on the spell. “Hold the essence in your mind,” she reminded herself, “change yourself, then, heal.” The world around her began to change, growing rapidly. Telanya suddenly felt ill. She collapsed and vomited on the ground before her, yet she still forced the spell through her body. She felt ill, disoriented, and weak—despite the healing that this magic normally did.

Slowly, the sorceress regained her senses, her mind bombarded with unfamiliar sensations. Sounds were louder and smells stronger. Her body was covered with fur. Long whiskers at her nose touched things far away. Most pressing, however, was the fact that she seemed to be trapped in an impossibly large bag. Cloth pressed against her, above and below. It was, she realized, her own clothing, now far too large.

A sound rumbled somewhere ahead, a sound that took her a moment to recognize as language. How strange that she could not understand it. Hamash, she realized. Slowly, Telanya pushed her way toward her guardian. She paused when the darkness suddenly parted into the twilight. There was a smell here, one that filled her with dread. Without warning, a black paw planted itself before her. Terror gripped her, displacing all other thought.

The little beast ran, stumbling and confused at seeing in two directions at once. She had to hide from the feline menace; that much she knew, but why? Telanya paused once more, mastering herself. Instinct screamed at her to keep going, but she instead turned around, looked Hamash in the eye, and touched a paw to the tip of her pointed nose. The panther spoke again. Though she couldn’t understand his words, his respectful tone suggested that he understood.

Turning to the rock face, the little beast considered her options. Her spells of detection had found three cracks that stretched all the way to the other side, but which ones were they? Her perspective was so different that it was impossible to tell. She approached the rock face cautiously, finding it seemed much farther than she remembered. Which one should she take? She veered this way and that, trying to gauge the cracks.

Eventually, she chose the widest: surely, it was the most likely to pass all the way through. Her newfound instinct, however, again rebelled at the entrance. Something about this passage was dangerous. The little beast sniffed, finding the scent both unfamiliar and frightening. Yet Telanya pressed on. What could possibly pose a danger to her?

The wide passage allowed easy progress, though the strange dread continued to grow with each step. What meager light the entrance allowed was soon swallowed in darkness, forcing her to rely on touch to find her way. The whiskers on her nose made this task far easier, she found. Still, the strange dread grew. When a sound came from ahead, she froze in place. It was quiet and smooth, with a rhythmic quality that suggested scraping a surface with many ridges. Whatever it was, it filled the little beast with terror.

A horrible thought came to her mind: would her magic work with this body? Telanya closed her eyes in concentration. Much to her relief, her senses responded. This passage did indeed pass through to the other side. There was a widened chamber just ahead, and in it… An image came to her mind: an armored, limbless body, waiting to deliver death by poison. Its tongue flowed in and out, watching her expectantly.

The little beast backed away. She knew this beast, though what it was called she could not remember. How strange. Telanya forced herself to move forward again. It was too late to turn back now—and her magic was more than capable of dealing with the creature before her. She strode forward and launched a ball of flame into the creature’s eyes.

At least, she tried. Nothing more came from her spell than a brief flash of light. With horror, she remembered that Belafuek, her conduit, lay back with her clothes. The illumination lasted just long enough to reveal the jaws flying toward her. But the blinding burst of light—brief as it was—was enough to frighten her attacker. The strike went wide, sending her enemy’s head into the wall. The little beast climbed over the armored coils and up into the far passage as fast as she could go.

Telanya ran through it as fast as her little legs could carry her. She no longer cared about twists or obstacles. The instincts that came with this body answered any questions about what to do. In truth, she kept running long after her whiskers lost contact with anything at all. She halted only after realizing that the sounds had changed. They now echoed through an enormous space far above her. She was in a cavern on the far side of the stone. She was inside Ketan.

The little beast listened, but found no sound of pursuit. She was alone. Breathing deeply, Telanya remembered who she was, in as much detail as possible. She applied this change to her body and flooded herself with healing magic. As before, the disorientation came over her, but it was also different. The process was much slower—agonizingly so. Telanya cringed at feeling her paws changing to hands, her head warping into shape. Still, she had to force herself to keep going. Spending the rest of her life as a strelnash was not an appealing option.

The transfiguration, which had before taken moments, now seemed to last hours. Telanya found herself crying from the force of will it required. When at last it was over, the sorceress lay on the ground gasping for breath. Never had any spell taken so much out of her. She stayed on the ground for many moments, too exhausted to do any more.

Slowly, her senses returned. Her first understanding was that she was shivering from the cold. Almost by reflex, she applied a warming enchantment to her skin—but, to her dismay, it dissipated the moment she finished. The sorceress groaned. She was, she reflected, virtually helpless without a conduit for her power—just like every other wizard in history.

More to reduce her exposure than to move, Telanya pushed herself off the ground. Ketan was cold and wet, and she had no protection at all. Her hand found a wall, which she used to climb to her feet. Keeping one hand on the wall, she looked around. There was little to see, for the devouring darkness made her eyes useless. Instead, she was forced to once again call upon her magical perception. With Belafuek at her back, the sorceress had been able to see the entire mountain. Now, she saw only her immediate surroundings.

Telanya stood in a tunnel wide enough for ten men to stand abreast. The stone ceiling hovered some four times her height from the floor. In all directions, the stone was smooth, as though worn by water. The sorceress knew better. Water did not leave sharp corners, and it certainly did not leave residual magic.

Behind her, the great stone bore the most shaping of all, the spellwork too intricate to understand in her weakened state. She turned to face it, switching hands on the wall beside her. The stone stood as implacable as ever, and she still found no weak points in its shielding. The only new detail the sorceress could see was an external connection in the enchantment. It led to a handle, set into a niche in the wall. It was so simple. Anyone could open the gate from this side.

Carefully, Telanya picked her way to the far wall. To her dismay, her sight vanished the moment she stopped focusing. Still, the memory of what she had seen was enough—so long as she stepped with care. Relief flooded through her the moment her hands found the wall again.

Somehow, the contact made her feel safe. Slowly, she felt along the wall until her hand found the niche and the handle. Her fingers curled around it, and she pulled it down. It moved with surprising ease.

Suddenly, light flooded into the tunnel, the twilight blinding after the true darkness. Before her, the great stone, which had once been solid rock, now dissolved as though made of smoke. Telanya stood blinking for several moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Outside, Hamash stood, looking into the tunnel expectantly.

The sorceress strode triumphantly through the last of the smoke. “I have proven myself a worthy heir to Ketmi,” she proclaimed, “and a worthy heir to her realm.” Hamash twitched his tail and looked up at her, unimpressed. Suddenly, Telanya gasped and raced to cover herself.

“The way is now open,” she said more simply. “We will be able to keep going as soon as I recover my equipment.” The great panther watched her as she crept over to her discarded finery, now badly soiled. She crouched over it. “Perhaps there were a few complications that I failed to anticipate,” she muttered.

“I Miss Home”

By Xinyi Yu Home, stand, up. Dream, settle, down.

Night is not the night.

Day is not the Day. Home, stand, up. Dream, grow, up.

Standing between days and nights, thinking, talking, swimming, traveling back home.

Home, stand, up, memory, chase, up.

Hugging, kissing the best day of my life.

Original Artwork by XInyi Yu

“Dream State” by Dalva Church

“Between”

By Xinyi Yu I am in between.

I am in the place no one has ever been.

I am in the place no one has ever known.

I am in between.

I am in the between the top of the mountains.

I am in between.

I have never ever escaped from the between.

I am in between.

I have no name, but I know I am in between.

“Pavlovian

Romance”

By Dalva Church I am in between.

I am fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.

It’s happened before, You have me well trained.

The stimulus and the response You told a few lies,

I am in between.

betrayed a few trusts.

I have no choice.

Does any of this ring a bell?

I have no choice to make a choice, because I am in between.

So now I distrust, I fear to believe.

I am in between.

The stimulus and the response

Tell me. You know where it is in between.

You swear you have changed, Beg me not to leave.

Does any of this ring a bell?

But I am afraid, I cannot relax.

The stimulus and the response And so we both prove We’re no better than dogs.

Does any of this ring a bell?

“My First Computer”

by Fran Smith I was reading a parenting magazine in 1994 when I came across an announcement of a contest to win a computer. Children were invited to send an original, unpublished recipe using Peter Pan Peanut Butter for a chance to win one of twenty Apple Macintosh Performa computers, (Approximate Retail Value $1400.00) The sponsors wanted recipes that were creative, tasty, and practical.

When Holli, my 12-year-old daughter, got home she mailed in her recipe for her favorite, since kindergarten, after school snack . . . Marshmallow Hats. Its strong suit was practically, no trying to get yeast to rise, or separating the yokes from the whites. In the nut shell, it was a snap for her to make. Simply spread a knife-full of peanut butter on a Ritz cracker, smoosh a big marshmallow on top, and nuke it in the microwave until it poofs or I holler, “THAT’S LONG ENOUGH!” If the marshmallow explodes, it’s a real goopy mess.

I was more excited than Holli when her win letter arrived. Now I could throw away my crusty bottle of correction fluid, and slippery black carbon paper. From now on I’d be correcting the typos in my letters with the press of a button. And at last the kids would be turning in homework without eraser holes.

Unfortunately, when her Apple arrived it didn’t come with a printer. In 1994, printers cost hundreds of dollars. My Hubby was reluctant to buy one because if we didn’t really like using the computer it would be a huge waste of his rusty old money. So anyway, the kids used it to play game that taught them how to type. They spent endless hours creating colorful, detailed artwork that was unprintable without a printer. My Hubby didn’t use it because he found it frustrating, and still does today. One day he asked me why I didn’t use the computer. I grumped, “Why would I type

someone a letter when I can’t print it to mail it?” Luckily, while cleaning, way back in a drawer in my desk I found an old typewriter eraser pencil. I still needed it. Never, could I have imagined, someday I would be sending a letter through the air with no pen, no paper, no envelope, and best of all, no stamp required.

For more information, contact

Www.tiffin.edu TIFFIN UNIVERSITY DRAGON WRITERS Prof. Dalva Church Bridgewater #4 35 S Sandusky St

Professor Church at

Tiffin, Ohio 44883

Phone: 419-448-5132 Fax: 419-443-5027 Email: churchdk@tiffin.edu

churchdk@ tiffin.edu

Tiffin University D R A G O N

W R I T E R S

G R O U P

DRAGON WRITERS COMMUNITY AND COLLEGE WRITNG GROUP

DRAGON WRITERS GROUP

feedback, do away with writer’s block, and have a really great time!!!

We meet the third Wednesday of Every Month At SaCome and meet baidee Coffee Prepare with other writHouse from 6your work to be ers to brush up published in TU’s 7 PM. Septemyour skills, give very own literary ber through and get creative magazine.

April.