AN ANNUAL APEX OF ARTISTRY Navigate diverse landscapes of images and writing highlighting Villa Maria College’s creative disciplines from the 2025-26 academic year. Allow the immense edition to hold your gaze and elevate your energy!
Kate Warner “Nana.” Mixed media. 16"x10"x10" Emily Jagiello
Skald likes to be held. Experienced. Grasping the papers like holding hands. Balancing the weight of the sheets and their eager scale. Exploring each shifting landscape adorned with vibrant, detailed images, and intricate text and texture.
The smell of ink and stock. It’s rustling whisper while unfurling every fold. Something to have and to hold.
Skald is grateful to make your acquaintance. A new connection in your creative network. Each
STAFF
paragraph, image, message, and layout is another touchpoint closer to understanding a new relationship. Another opportunity to get to know it. It’s holding our attention and becoming familiar.
The hours of investment in each example is a love song to human creativity. An aspect of Skald’s unique personality reborn each year. The chemistry of contents creates an original person with its own attributes and mannerisms.
The process parallels the experience of students in higher
education. From the first visit to campus and class with new faces. Making connections and holding conversations. Introducing information to the temporary unknown and patiently developing advanced skills.
Holding space and gratitude for learning and exploration. Making work that elevates the soul. Not holding back, just holding hope.
And holding for applause. Let our friend Skald remind us of awareness in every experience. Be real, stay genuine. Creativity is nature and we hold it dear. Hold onto it! Don’t hold the phone, hold a loved one. Don’t hold a grudge, hold your horses. Hold a baby. Hold a vigil. Hold your head high and hold your place in the world.
PROGRAMS AT VILLA
Holly MacPeek “Villa Maria College 02.” Digital photography
COVER Daniel Vargas “The Elemental Path.” Digital rendering
Honoring the lives of Sister Marcella Marie Garus and Michaelene Karpinski and all of our loved ones who can only be held in memories.
Leanna Curts “Mettle.” Acrylic on wood panel. 3' x 4'
HOLDING DOWN THE FORT
The process where students design and develop environments to benefit their inhabitants in every stage of life. Students are exposed to advanced equipment such as 3-D printers, textiles, and much more. www.villa.edu/academics/interior-design
ABOVE Ashley Marotta “Casa del Sole e della Luna Spa – Reception.” Digital rendering
RIGHT Ashley Marotta “Casa del Sole e della Luna Spa.” Digital rendering
Vanya Vitous “Stele Floor Lamp” Rock, steel, aluminum, and glass 65.5"x46"x13"
TOP Kelsey Churchill “Coffee Table.” Wood BOTTOM Daniel Vargas “Hyperspace Dental Office.” Digital rendering
Autumn Enright
“Tiffany & Co. – Retail” Digital rendering
ABOVE Natalie Reilly “Velkommen Bench.” Wood
RIGHT Vanya Vitous “La Serena di Sant’Orsola – Waiting Area.” Digital rendering
Natalie Reilly “The Social Club” Digital rendering
“Victory
Kelsey Churchill
“Eleniko Oliveto Restaurant – Dining” Digital rendering
BOTANICAL RABBITS
Adriana Pearsall
It is an early spring morning. Sage sits on her porch in her favorite chair—a green-painted relic with a missing arm, holding onto its last days as she sips hot coffee. She is dazed by her garden, a lush highlight of the yard filled with fresh fruits and vegetables.
As she relaxes, something creeps into the greenery. Sage leans forward, droplets of coffee spilling onto her yellow shirt, but she doesn’t pull away. Before her eyes can fully adjust, she sees a round, furry tail vanish into the rows. Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion as she stands. There, in the center of her hard work, is a rabbit with bright pink ears and white fur.
Sage isn’t sure if the visitor is just passing through or planning a heist. Either way, she wants to protect her harvest. She stomps her feet to scare it off, but the rabbit does not flinch. Instead, it gives her a bold side-eye, snatches a baby cabbage, and bolts. Sage is outraged. Investigating the site, she finds the cabbage and its roots are completely gone. Gutted by the loss, she storms inside and remains upset for the rest of the day.
The next morning, she returns to her routine, but this time she sits on the porch stairs to intimidate any intruders. As she sips her coffee, two rabbits—
the thief and a friend—dash past her feet and enter the garden. Sage spits out her coffee in disbelief.
“Get out of my garden! Shoo!” she yells. The rabbits stop and look at her with such sadness that she softens. “Do you all want food?” she asks. She runs to her kitchen, but when she opens the fridge, her heart sinks. The produce she usually keeps pristine has turned spoiled and rotten. “What the hell is going on!” she cries out. She takes a deep breath, finds a bag of peanuts in the cabinet, and rushes back outside.
By the time she reaches the porch, the peanuts slip from her hand. She stands in a daze, glaring at the empty soil. The rabbits are gone, and they have taken two of every fruit and vegetable she owned. Sage drops to her knees and weeps, eventually retreating to her bed for the rest of the day.
On the third day, Sage’s heart is filled with bitter outrage. She crawls out of bed, her ceramic mug meeting the counter with a violent thud—a sharp echo of the turmoil inside. Her arms are a tight cage around her chest as she weighs her options. She refuses to set traps that would kill them, so she decides on the worst: she will simply get rid of the garden and start over.
She walks onto the porch with a sorrowful grin, hoping to catch the sunrise one last time. As she approaches, her skin prickles and her eyes widen. A warm glow spreads through her as she looks at the yard.
The garden has been transformed. Her fruits and vegetables have tripled in size, the cabbages now as massive as giant pumpkins. The air is thick with a fine, edible fragrance, and the vegetables glow with vibrant colors she has never seen before. Even her favorite chair gleams with a new gloss, a fresh bag of coffee resting on the arm that is no longer missing.
Sage is overcome with joy, laughing and crying as she rushes into the garden. Her heart pumping fast, she begins to gather the produce to fill her fridge. But when she opens it, the shelves are already overflowing with more than she can fit.
“This whole time I thought those rabbits were trying to ambush me,” she says aloud, “and all they wanted to do was help.” She grins so hard her jaw almost locks. To show her thanks, she prepares a large blue bowl of fresh produce and spreads a green blanket near the cabbage patch. She waits all afternoon, but they do not appear.
Just as she begins to fold the blanket to head inside, a rustle comes from the patch. She turns to see the white rabbit and the one with the pink ears. They look at her with love and gratitude.
“Thank you,” Sage whispers. “You can come back anytime.”
And they do. Every early morning, they share the sunrise in what has become a sanctuary. Wildflowers bloom from seeds carried in their fur, and though the vegetables are occasionally nibbled, they thrive in the balance of their new harmony.
LEFT Snow Truman “Juno.” Digital BELOW Madyson Arnts “Forest Bunny.” Digital
Jagiello
INSPIRED BY “MY MOTHER” BY AMY TAN
The most painful words I have ever uttered to another person was to that absolute joke of a “queen” who incubated me. I was freshly 17 when the most important person in my life would give me just about the worst gift someone could give his teenage daughter. My dad, the unsuspecting Prometheus, shared with me an old-school scandal that would change the way I looked at this God’sawful kingdom we’re all stuck living in.
I know that he means well, but this fire of knowledge is more of a curse to me than any gift. For my birthday this year, all I had asked for was a new Warhammer (the biggest one he could find, obviously), yet instead I got to find out that I’m the unwanted child of the queen. Score.
At first, I was beyond pissed. How could my dad keep something so unbelievably massive like this to himself all these years? As he let the words escape his lips I felt my mind turn off. I didn’t care to listen to his explanations; I felt disgusted, betrayed . I went out into the woods and wailed on the trees with my hammer for hours on end. The rhythmic, drumlike pounding of my anger shifted from being towards Dave to that woman, Amaris. I found myself boiling over with pure hatred. It’s one thing to cast your illegitimate daughter out into the woods from the cushy life of royalty, but it’s another thing entirely to break my dad’s heart.
So, I packed up my bag and spent two days traveling on foot to the castle to fight this woman, naturally.
After my several day trek through the Whispering Wood, I arrived at the castle walls. Towering overhead stand porcelain colored stone bricks,
seemingly stretching out for miles on either side of me. They’re certainly way too tall for me to even attempt to climb. As I brace myself to force my way inside, I hear a guard start to try and get my attention.
“State your busi-”
He is barely able to get out the beginning of the word before I’m barrelling full speed past the guards and into the Kingdom of Light’s castle walls. As a cacophony rings out in the courtyard and the guards start running towards me, I rummage quickly through the pockets of my cloak and produce just the tool I need. A homemade, Dave Certified, smoke bomb. Wrapping my fingers around it tightly, I swing my arm down hard towards the ground letting the bomb escape my grip. As it explodes into a million pieces onto the pavement, an all consuming cloud of bright pink smoke and glitter fills the pavilion around me. Guards cough and sputter out of sight as the door to the palace creaks open just enough for me to seize the opportunity in front of me.
I throw my hood up over my dark hair as I break out into an all out sprint, pushing my way past the guards standing in front of the door and into the main entryway of the castle. I cough out a puff of pink smoke as the door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing through the chapel-like corridor. I try to get my bearings as I take in my surroundings, when guards start to surround me one by one again with their swords drawn, looking for a fight.
“Halt.” Her voice drags itself heavily down the pathway from where she sits, with some pale, blonde girl by her side. The girl stares at me intensely as the Queen begins to speak again,
“Allow her to approach.”
My eyes lock onto that overpriced chair she is sitting on. How could these people not see past her surface? Almost as if responding to my gaze, the throne shines and refracts rainbows across the
sterile, white walls of the palace. I listen to the room grow from silent to hushed whispers swell as I step closer to the front. I lock eyes with the woman, and for a moment I
“You must bow before your majesty, girl.” I hear the guard closest to her right side spit out from under his helmet.
My body reacts before my mind can. I try desperately to stifle a laugh, but it escapes my mouth and echoes loudly throughout the room; and then, I say it.
“I’d maybe bow to her if she warranted any of my respect.’ The words spilled out of me, as if I was Pandora’s box itself. “Do you really not remember your bastard daughter after all these years?”
The room that was filled with a quiet hum seconds ago fell silent at an instant once I spoke. The girl to the left side of the Queen stares up at her, waiting for her response like I am. I search her face, studying the lines near her eyes to begin to attempt to read her expression and that fire in me flickers even hotter as the only family I truly have crosses my mind.
“Even if you forgot me so easily, can’t you think of the way Dave feels?”
For only a second, I can see her eyes light up with recognition. The slightest change on her stonecold face; a tiny, almost unnoticeable hint of what could almost resemble pain comes through as she focuses her icy gaze on me.
“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, I do not know of a Dave; and only have one daughter, the princess.” She gestures towards the girl sitting at her side, looking back at her with confusion on her face.
The electricity in the room immediately dissipates as the guards look visibly relieved, but the princess does not. However, truthfully, at this moment I cannot think of a time that
I have ever felt angrier. The fire spits red and comes flaming out of my lips.
“Are you really going to lie like that to save face?” I scream at her, as magma tears begin to fall down my face.
“How can you pretend like we aren’t even real?”
And then, she says it.
The most painful words I have said to another person were followed by a sentence that felt like a kick in the teeth.
“You don’t even exist to me.”
The piercing chill of her candor puts the inferno in me out at an instant. The flame chokes and sputters as a frost envelopes me in its place. An overwhelming chill bites hard at my heart.
“Leave before you are apprehended for trespassing and do not return.”
For the first time in my life, I have nothing that I can say in return, no comebacks, no antics. All I feel is frostbite all over.
ANIMATION Moving Mountains
NO HOLDING BACK
Animation students use their time and passion to incorporate advanced principles of movement and various methods including storyboarding, rendering, and stop-motion to bring their stories to life.
www.villa.edu/academics/animation
BUBBLE BOY TO BUBBLE MAN
Isaac Thomann
It’s a quiet night in Sudd City, Mr. Power and his loyal sidekick Bubble Boy are on patrol. Soon enough Mr. Power hears someone calling for help with his inescapable Power Hearing. He turns to his sidekick and says,
“Quickly Bubble Boy, to the Power Car!” And so, quick as a bullet, both of our heroes are on the job. The Power Car rips through the city streets at supersonic speeds, a loud BOOM is heard in its wake. And in no-time at all the dynamic duo are on the scene, a woman is being held at gunpoint by three armed men! Mr. Power raises a finger at the duo, announcing his presence,
“Evil doers, you now have the displeasure of facing Mr. Power! Release that woman, or I will be forced to use my powers on you!” The man in the middle turns to them, but a mask covers his face, he lets out a chuckle before saying,
“Ha! You know Mr. Power, despite all of your abilities, you have two main weaknesses.” Mr. Power raises an eyebrow, he uses his Power Telepathy to warn Bubble Boy, “Something is fishy about this one Bubble Boy, if anything happens, don’t interfere”
Before Bubble Boy can even react, Mr. Power calls out to the masked man, “If you think you have me figured out masked villain, think again! Nobody can surpass my versatility!” Mr. Power then uses his Power Speed to run quick as lightning, but then BLAM! the man in the mask shoots him before he reaches the woman. Bubble Boy cries out triumphantly, “You stupid villain, you thought a bullet could pierce through Mr. Power’s Power Skin?
C’mon boss, show em what you can really do!” But Mr. Power doesn’t show em anything, he hasn’t moved since the bullet hit him, the man in the mask chuckles again,
“Ha! You think I didn’t know about Mr. Power’s many Powers? Oh I’m well aware of his so called Power Skin.” Mr. Power collapses to the cold ground, golden suit stained red. The masked man pulls back his mask, revealing himself as the villain his is, Mr. Weakness. He is Mr. Power’s greatest foe, but one that they all thought was dead! Bubble Boy takes a few steps back, he can feel the sweat beginning to pool in his boots, how can that man be alive? He shouts out to Mr. Weakness,
“H…How are you still alive! We saw you blow up when you destroyed the pier! The first responders found your body in the wreckage!” Bubble boy keeps moving back, and Mr.Weakness decides to respond,
“Well kid, I’ll be honest with you, that one was a close call, but thanks to The Forcefield Twins and the Morpher here, I always had a way out!” The woman being held at gun point stopped screaming a long time ago, she began to morph and twist into what looked like the charred body of Mr. Weakness. As bubble boy tried to back up in terror, he hit a wall, but there was nothing behind him! The two supposed goons had their hands held toward Bubble Boy now. All the while Mr. Weakness kept talking,
“And Mr. Power wasn’t as powerful as he let on, with his Power Regeneration and Power Skin he sure did seem invulnerable, but I found his weaknesses like I find everyones. I noticed he was taking extra care to not get hit by the Living Tree the other week, and so I went to ask her about it in prison, y’know what she said to me kid?” Mr. Weakness had begun kicking the corpse of Mr. Power, Bubble Boy didn’t respond.
“Getting shy on me?” Said Mr. Weakness, and when Bubble Boy still didn’t respond, he said, “Where was I? Ah, yes, The Living Tree, she told me, that when she managed to hit Mr. Power, he cried out in pain! Of course, he immediately lit her on fire, ending the battle rather quickly, but something about wood gave the Mighty Mr. Power pause.” Bubble Boy’s eyes widened, he understood the implication, so he called out,
“It was a wooden bullet, wasn’t it!” Mr. Weakness begins to slow clap and say, “Right on the money! They should call you Brainy Boy y’know? Anyhow, I’ve got to go, I don’t have it in me to kill a kid, tell the whole world what I did tonight boy, I think I deserve some credit for finding it out right!” His wicked smile sickened Bubble Boy, but he remembered Mr. Power’s warning, he fell to his knees, and Sudd City blurred around him.
—2 Years Later—
Much time has passed, Sudd City is in Chaos, with the death of Mr. Power there was nobody to protect its citizens from superpowered crime. But on this day, the anniversary of Mr. Power’s death two long years ago, someone returns to claim his place. Enter a now 18 year old Bubble Boy, but right now he is
just Bobby Butch, he had left the city 2 years ago in shame. But he had always vowed to grow stronger and take his place as the city’s new protector. But first he needed a place to stay. Bobby had kept in touch with a few people in Sudd, chief among them being his best friend, Kevin Clips, boy genius (now just plain genius). He had agreed to let Bobby crash until he could get his own place. Bobby is pulling up to his house right now.
Bobby knocks on the front door of one of many upscale apartments in downtown Sudd, a number of clicks and whirring noises can be heard from behind the door before it swings inward. Nobody is at the door, but a voice shoots out over and intercom,
“That you Bub? Look into the camera so I can give you a quick retinal scan, can never be to careful amirite?” Bobby Looks into the little camera that swings down from the ceiling, a green light and a ding prompt him to enter. As he enters the apartment the door swings closed again, but Bobby isn’t phased, he keeps walking until he reaches the living room. Inside sits Kevin, a mountain of a man, despite his amazing grades and passion for robotics Kevin was never one to skip gym class. When he stood up from the couch he towered over the now toned but still short Bobby. He opens his arms and traps Bobby in a crushing bear hug, saying,
“HAHAAAA! BOBBY HOW ARE YOU DOING! I was so happy when you texted me man! You gotta tell me where you been.” Before Bobby can answer he has to use his Bubble Power to create a thin layer of slippery bubble on his skin and slip right out of Kevin’s Grasp. He smiles at his friend after catching his breath and says,
“Whew, you still hug like a monster Kev, your almost as big a The Berserker now man!” Kevin returns the smile triumphantly and says,
“Yup! I’m pretty proud of it myself! I managed to develop an even more effective exercise and diet routine! OH, and the experimental nano machines are helping a lot as well!” Bobby looks up at Kevin with a curious look,
“You Juicing now man? Didn’t think that was your style.” Kevin lets out a small sigh before replying,
“Naw man it ain’t like that, see my doc, he said there was something wrong with my bones, didn’t develop right, it hadn’t come up before since I stayed away from contact sports but… My skeleton was weak, all the weight I was putting on had begun to cause stress fractures, was only a matter of time ‘fore I crushed myself. So I contacted that Christopher guy, the one who makes the super suits, well he had developed a nanobot for suits last year, and using his research I managed to make my Bone Bots!” Bobby’s face relaxed after hearing this story, he clapped Kevin on the back and said,
“Well that’s some mighty impressive stuff, and I wished I had more time to catch up, but I actually gotta go see Christopher myself, I ordered a new suit before I came into town.”
Kevin’s smile lights up again,
“Give me a second!” The giant runs off, scrambling up his staircase, the noise leads Bobby to believe he was now rummaging through a pile of trash. But he returns after only a few moments, carrying a silver watch. Kevin is as giddy as a schoolboy and he says,
“I actually heard you make that order, I told Chris that I would give it to ya since you were gonna stop by my place anyhow.” Bobby’s eyes widen, but quickly shrink back to confusion,
“Kevin, that’s a watch? Got something to do with that nano tech you mentioned?” Kevin gives Bobby a thumbs up and says,
“Bingo, this bad boy contains a billion nanites, all able to project a mini force field and link up into a customizable suit!” Bobby holds his hand out,
“Toss it over then, I wanna give this a try!” Kevin obliges and tosses the watch over to his friend. Bobby slaps the watch onto his wrist, and after fiddling with the buttons for a moments there is a loud POOF sound and a cloud of fog covers Bobby completely. After a few seconds the cloud clears. Bobby looks down at his hands, now completely coated in a metallic substance that has stripes of white along the lines of his musculature. Kevin gestures for him to look into the mirror. As Bobby walks over he is slightly taken aback, emblazoned on his chest are the letters BM. Bobby mumbles,
“Bubble… Man…” Tears begin streaming down his face as he remembers that night, the night he felt powerless, Kevin gives him another bear hug, but this time Bobby doesn’t slip away, Kevin whispers,
“I understand man, it was a hard night for all of us, especially you, we are gonna get him for what he did, don’t worry.” And after that he loosens his grip on Bobby, who regains his composure shortly after, he looks up to Kevin and says,
“I’m going out, these people can’t wait any longer, don’t try to stop me.” Kevin smiles wryly,
“I wouldn’t dream of it Bubble Man, I believe in you.”
And so, Bubble Man is born this night, in Sudd City.
—Later That Night—
Bubble Man used his Bubble Power to create suds on his feet and skate around the city, though he may not have Power Hearing, he did have another trick up his sleeve, Vibration Bubbles. These allowed bubble man to catch vibrations with his indestructible bubbles and either amplify it into sound, or massive destructive power. So he shoots a spread of vibration bubbles, capturing faint sound waves and amplifying their volume 100 fold. One voice caught his attention a young man by the sounds of it he was shouting,
“Back, back fiends, I won’t let you steal my life’s work!” Upon hearing this Bubble Man blasted away, skating along while also blasting bubbles out of his ankles for more thrust. He had no Power Car, but
I didn’t take long for Bubble Man to find his quarry, a group of muggers had cornered a young PhD student near Sudd University. Not wasting any time announcing himself, Bubble man shot a layer of sticky bubbles between the student and thieves. Any the thieves who tried to shoo away the bubbles became trapped in them, and after enough time they were trapped. Bubble Man was triumphant and skated away to find more people to save.
Stephanie Erman “Character Sheet.” Digital illustration
ABOVE
Analise Fox
“Horse on Sand Dune” Photography 16"x10"
Renaldo Grant “Autumn.” Digital photography
ABOVE Holly MacPeek
“Villa Maria College 01” Photography LEFT Kassie Lestenkof
“Invented Landscape” Digital collage 17"x11"
Nicholas LeBarron “Dragonfly,” and “Carnation.” Cyanotype. 10"x8" “You’re
Kevin Underwood didn’t believe in ghosts. Their existence simply wasn’t possible. All his friends came to him, showing him tale after tale, and every time he would shoot it down with a logical explanation. This isn’t to say that he had no interest in the idea, though. He loved hearing these stories, reading books, and especially visiting supposedly haunted places. He traveled across the world, simply searching for the next big haunting. Figuring out the non-supernatural causes of events was thrilling, like solving a puzzle. And there was never a puzzle Kevin didn’t solve.
The location he had his sights set on next was a cave system in upstate New York. He had heard some stories from some acquaintances who went recently and was sufficiently intrigued. He ordered tickets for a night tour of the system the next day from his hotel room, and then went to sleep.
That night, Kevin dreamt of ghosts. His mind wandered to all the places he went; of the explanations he found. He thought about how he experienced everything people said about that place, whether it be noises, shadows, or things moving on their own. It didn’t seem strange that he would bear witness to these events immediately upon arrival every time. They were natural, cyclic events that could easily be stopped. He didn’t stop them though. They were experiences, even if natural, that others should be able to get scared of or figure out for themselves, whatever they want. Reminiscing on his adventures helped him fall into a deeper sleep.
As he was walking throughout the town, he found a thematic souvenir shop for the caves that seemed interesting.
“Hello there dearie!” A small old woman called out to him from behind a quaint counter. “Let me know if you need any help!”
Kevin smiled and nodded at her, then began browsing the shelves looking for a trinket or something to get as a token of this place. He settled on a tiny pocket flashlight that had a cool design and logo of the caves on it. He brought it up to the woman at the counter.
“Ah, a lovely little trinket,” she chuckled as she rang it up. “Have you been to the caves yet?”
“Tonight,” he replied, “I’m only in town for the whole day today, pretty much just to visit them.”
“Ooh, you a big cave guy? Or maybe the rumors drew you here, like so many other young’uns these days,” she smiled wryly.
“You could say that. I always like hearing the rumors from trustworthy sources, though!” he invited a chat. The woman laughed.
“Well, my old soul doesn’t have the heart to find out if they’re true or not, but I’ve heard tales from ghost hunters and spelunkers alike as they pass through my little shop. All on about seeing faces in the waters of the canals, uncanny echoes of a sort. Some have even said they’ve felt a presence touching them, grabbing them! I’ll tell you what,
concerned and went into the darkness. Kevin sat around and chatted with the other tourists, sharing ghost stories and such, as they were all very much interested in the idea of ghostly encounters. Ten minutes had passed since their guide had left them, and the group was beginning to get unnerved. Kevin tried to reassure them, but also failed to come up with a valid reason she would take so long. Eventually, they decided to split themselves up to try to find her. Kevin and a woman named Charlotte were going to go down the side tunnel to try and find her, while the other two would stay where they were resting in case she came back. With their plans set, Kevin and Charlotte went off into the darkness.
As they traveled the narrow passage, both their lights began to flicker at the same time. Kevin thought it coincidence, but then began to wonder. He believed they may be down in the caves longer than their tour was supposed to go due to this setback, and he wondered how long the lamps were supposed to last before they needed to be replaced. As they continued through the tunnel, the sides closed inwards subtly and pushed the two tourists together closer and closer. They went further and further, and suddenly came up against a wall. They stared, shocked by the discovery. They hadn’t seen any further branches in the path while coming down, and now it was a dead end? Kevin looked around with his lantern in confusion until he stopped on something on the ground near their feet.
Kevin woke up the next morning feeling better than ever. He got out of bed, stretched, washed his face and brushed his teeth, and put his clothes on for the day. He expected it might be cold in the caves, so he slipped on a light jacket over his shirt and headed out the door. He planned on spending time in the town until he had to go to the caves that night.
He came to a small, local diner and decided to pop in for breakfast. He ordered some pancakes and coffee and enjoyed his time in the cozy little place, looking out the large window in front of the place at all the passersby going about their lives. He thought it amusing for such a population to go about their day peacefully while also being right next to the home of supposedly restless spirits. He wondered how many of them believed in the ghost stories, or even considered the ghosts they’ve been allegedly walking amongst once in their entire lives.
As he finished his train of thought alongside his breakfast, Kevin got up to use the bathroom. He finished up on the toilet and began washing his hands.
“Turn back.”
A soft, yet harsh voice entered his left ear as a brush of air swept against it. Kevin quickly turned to face the sound of the voice, only to find himself staring at the tiled wall next to him. He stared at it for a few moments, squinting to see if there was some hole or crack for sound or air to pass though, but found nothing of the sort. Kevin shrugged off, thinking he must have imagined it, and left both the bathroom and the diner.
any spirits would get a good thwacking if they tried to pull that on me!” she told him.
Kevin listened intently and eagerly as she continued to bless him with tidbits she had heard in passing, before eventually realizing how much time had passed.
“Thank you so much, but it’s almost time for my tour! I really enjoyed your stories!” he exclaimed, heading towards the door. She gave him a kind smile and meek wave as he slipped outside.
He arrived where he was told to at dusk. The group he was with was made up of four tourists and the guide. They were all given electric lanterns, and then they entered the caves. As they descended down into the cave, the temperature dropped slightly, as Kevin expected. They went deeper and deeper until the light of the lanterns was the only source in the cave. They then reached the bottom of the staircase they went down and began their horizontal movement through the cave. The dim lanterns and the damp and cramped nature of the tunnels made for an eerie atmosphere, and Kevin began to get goosebumps as they traveled further into the system.
About a half hour into their tour, the tour guide stopped. Since this point, she had been telling the group tales and stories of hauntings in and around the caves, and Kevin enjoyed listening and debunking them in his head. They were next to a canal of water of sorts, and their guide told them they would take a short break here to sit down and drink some water while she went ahead to scout the tunnel in an offshoot to their left. She seemed
sitting on the ground by the water. They finally let each other go, still gasping for breath, and sat against the wall, confused and scared.
As Kevin sat, he thought something strange. He had just run out of a tunnel that came off from this passage. So then why could he put his back against a wall? He looked behind himself, and saw nothing. He looked forward, down the channel, and saw nothing. He looked in the other direction, back down the way he and the group had come from, where Charlotte sat down to rest, and saw nothing. His eyes widened, and he began panicking. He couldn’t see Charlotte anywhere, or a branching path for that matter. The darkness seemed to stretch on in two directions for infinity and two directions alone.
His heart was beating out of control as he scrambled to his feet and began calling out the names of his fellow group members. His cries echoed down the tunnel and were met with nothing but silence. Then, in unison, the two lanterns on the floor flickered twice, then went out. Now, the only source of illumination in the caves was Kevin’s own lantern, which itself was flickering quite a bit.
Kevin collapsed, exhausted and scared, adrenaline wearing away as the world stood silently around him, as though nothing had ever been in this place before he arrived. A cold calm so uncomfortably serene, it seemed as though even the canal in front of him had frozen its flow, the sound of the water dissipating in the hollow air. His racing heart slowed to a shallow pumping, numbing his mind and increasing his wariness. As he lay on the ground, the shouting and running through the tunnels finally caught up to him, and he passed out on the rocks.
In his slumber, Kevin saw darkness. Infinite darkness, and nothing else. As he floated in the nothingness, images began to surface. His new friends, the rest of the tour group, and the guide. A smile began to work its way across his face. Then he noticed the hole in everyone’s chest, showing him the void behind. His smile evaporated as he was overcome by horror. Then, the corpses began slowly walking towards him, arms outstretching, trying to grab him.
Kevin’s eyes shot open, and he instantly got to his feet, flowing with a newfound fear and awareness. As soon as he was up, he felt a cold wind tug on the back of his coat. Suddenly, the wind got significantly harsher, and the air pulled him backwards into the canal. He fell, tumbling head over heels and losing all sense of direction in the frigid cold water. When he finally regained control of his movements, he tried to figure out which way was up.
Close to the wall, there were the glasses their tour guide was wearing. He recalled her stating at the beginning of the tour before they went into the caves that she needed them to see, especially in darker places. He stopped dead in his tracks, and Charlotte’s gasp to his side told him she had seen them too. Not knowing how to proceed, he tried to knock on the dead end, checking if it was hollow or something strange like that. There was no ringing, no reverberation. It was solid. And yet, seconds after he had finished his knock sequence, it seemingly played back to him. His hand away from the wall, he heard a knocking sound that mimicked what he had done.
He looked at Charlotte, confused. Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head at him. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand up, yet he turned back to the wall and knocked a more complicated rhythm. Surely enough, a few seconds passed, and the pattern sounded again, through no action of Kevin or Charlotte. As they were standing there, staring at the wall, a scream echoed through the tunnel behind them. Kevin recognized it as one of the two tourists they left behind near the water canal. Kevin immediately grabbed Charlotte’s hand and began running back the way they came. As they did, Charlotte’s lantern began flickering, and then went out. Kevin gripped her hand tighter and continued running. He saw a light emitting where the tunnel opened up to the canal and picked up his speed slightly.
They burst out of the tunnel, still holding hands. Kevin, short of breath, looked around. The passageway was empty, aside from two lanterns
He finally managed to get to the surface and breathe. He was in complete darkness though, as he had lost his lantern while falling into the water. He remembered the flashlight in his coat pocket. He quickly fumbled around for it and tried to turn it on. To his surprise, it flickered for a second before casting a small beam of light at his surroundings. As he looked around him, he noticed something very wrong. He was not in the same tunnel he had fallen into the canal from. Where he was now was a small room with a sort of pool of water from which he came up from. The room had strangely smooth walls for it being a cave, and nothing else in it but a small tunnel at the back leading further into the darkness. Afraid of trying to work his way back through the water to the other side, Kevin chose to see where the tunnel in the back would lead. He brandished his tiny flashlight in front of him and began making his way down the path.
The opening was just low enough that Kevin had to crouch down to traverse it. He entered, slowly making his way through. He kept one hand on the wall, the other holding his flashlight in front of him. The tunnel stretched on for much longer than Kevin had initially anticipated, but it did eventually open up into a larger chamber.
Kevin stood back up, out of the small passage, and looked around. He was in a fairly large room; he couldn’t see the back of it from the entrance. He ventured into the chamber more, sweeping the floor, walls, ceiling. Nothing quite stood out until he reached the back wall. Against it there was an altar, with a bowl in the center full of blood. As Kevin shined his light towards it, four figures shimmered into focus within the beam.
The tourists and guide appeared in front of him; translucent bodies stiff and mangled. Arms were twisted around exposed rib cages, with legs tied together like knots and exposed bones poking out from under rotting skin. They had no eyes, just dark sockets, yet Kevin felt that they were staring into his soul.
The ghosts began moving towards him, stretched mouths ripped and torn open to reveal bloodstained teeth. They were approaching alarmingly fast. Kevin let out a scream as he stumbled and began running backwards towards the tunnel that he came from. As he ran, he glanced behind him and reaffirmed their pursuit. They were still there.
He got to the tunnel and crouched down to enter it. He was slowed considerably in the cramped corridor and saw that the specters were now moving faster than he was. He kept scrambling forward, not looking back. As he neared the end of the tunnel, he felt chills running down his back and a cold sensation wrapped itself around his left ring finger.
He burst out of the tunnel and dove into the pool he came out of when he first entered. He forced his eyes open to try to see the main tunnel. As he swam, he saw faces in the water all around him, faces he’d never seen before. They all stared at him, silently screaming words he didn’t have the time to make out. Hands then began reaching out of the darkness through the water, and he quickly pushed towards the surface, hoping he had gone far enough.
He broke through the water, grabbing for a ledge.
Upon finding it, he pulled himself up and lay on the cave floor, gasping for air. He flipped over onto his back and scanned his flashlight along the passage.
He had made it back into the long tunnel he had come from. After he had caught his breath, Kevin
got to his feet and started walking. He just chose a direction and kept walking. He had lost his memory of which way he came, which way was the right one, and he had no way of knowing or finding out. So, he just walked.
It felt like an hour had passed when he finally came across the stairs he came down. The stairs he came down alone. There was never anyone else but him. He had snuck into the caves after they closed. He must have. There were no lights on in the service building. Kevin was alone. Ghosts weren’t real. Kevin was alone. He shouldn’t have gone in by himself. Now he was dripping wet, cold, and alone, and it was nobody’s fault but his own. It was his fault alone. He suddenly felt a sharp pain on his
left hand. He looked, and saw there was a red mark around his fourth finger, and it was bleeding a bit. Kevin figured he must have cut it on a sharp rock when he climbed out of the water, since he was alone. He decided that he should go back to the hotel alone to get a bandage or something for it. It might be infected, and there was nobody out here who could help him, because he was alone. As he was walking to his car, he heard a voice whisper in a drawling tone, seemingly echoing out from the caves to his back... “Ke-e-evin.”
He paid it no mind, because he was alone.
Sam Ramos “Practice My Stare,” and “Distinct.” Photography
Crash Crack Crash, the heavy head of Te’Kraat’s hammer crashed against the anvil. Sweat poured from his rust red skin, the heat of the forge beat against his back. Despite the blazing heat and backbreaking work Te’Kraat Doovol was right at home here. He needed better armor if he was going to survive alone. Crash Crack Crash, every forty seconds, exactly forty seconds, if he waited any longer the byeshk1 would crack under his hammer blows. He knew1 not to rush it, until the final tempering byeshk is as frail as silver. Crash Crack Crash, Te’Kraat had all the time he needed now that he wasn’t traveling with those surface dwellers. In the back of his mind he knew that he was better off with them, that his journey through the Greywall mountains was sure to be his last, but he had a duty, and a true dar2 does not break from his duty. He traveled with them for only a month or two, but he had grown used to them. Despite this, the path forward was decided for him long ago, his place amongst his people depended on his retrieval of an ancient artifact. The dream depended on finding it. Crash Crack Crash, but these thoughts are secondary to his current goal, if is to survive the abominations under the mountain, he would need the protection of byeshk. It is rare for a surface dweller to know the secrets of byeshk, but for the Heirs of Dhakaan 3 it was a birthright. His people had cracked the secrets of byeshk thousands of years ago, at least that was what Te’Kraat thought until he met the gatekeeper druid.4 He tried to recall the words the druid spoke, to align the metal as the druid did, but it was fruitless. Crash Crack Crash, nevertheless, he went on, he still knew how to forge the armor, how to fold the plates of purple metal to fit his form. It is a cumbersome material, heavier than steel, and more brittle, however, that was only if you didn’t know how to quench it. Te’Kraat knew that water would not suffice, byeshk must be plunged into hot sand and cooled slowly. He had been here for two weeks, slaving away at this armor, but the last plate was on his anvil. Crash Crack Crash, the final shaping had been completed, he quickly moved to bury the piece under the sand. Wiping the sweat from his brow Te’Kraat let out a sigh of relief. He had a day to rest while the metal cooled. However the process wasn’t over yet, now began the hardest task, enchanting the armor.
EARLY THE NEXT DAY
Te’Kraat was a forge artificer, a smith who can weave magic into their creations, and so he went to gather his supplies. He remembered the teachings of his master, how the venerable ghaal’dar introduced him to the arcane arts, the magic exacts a toll, it is said that with every5 item a forge master enchants, a piece of their soul goes with it. Shaking away the recollection he produced a brass cylinder from his pack, it is the container for a monster’s soul. Then, a pouch of diamond dust, and a vial full of a glowing purple liquid. Te’Kraat Began the enchanting process as soon as the metal was cooled. As he assembled the plate armor
Te’Kraat would use the glowing purple liquid, a substance known as the blood of Khyber* 6 to etch ancient protection runes into the byeshk, Te’Kraat began to whisper an incantation,
“Blood of Khyber, turn away your children.” He would repeat this every time he etched a new set of runes, each time sprinkling the diamond dust onto them at the very end. Once the protective runes had been etched Te’Kraat took hold of his hammer and the brass cylinder, one end of which was capped with a thin piece of obsidian glass. He placed the glass end onto the breast plate of the armor and called out,
“Child of Khyber, Protect me from your brethren.”
When he said this he struck down with his hammer, KRAKOOM! A sound louder than a thunderclap blasted out in this underground forge, the magical reverberation was so powerful that it split the stone workbench that Te’Kraat was working at in half. But he let out another sigh of relief once he recovered, for he saw the runes now glowed a deep amber hue, the telltale sign of a successful enchantment. He immediately collapsed from exhaustion.
IN THE UUL DHAKAAN
The sounds of hammers clanging, the smell of industry, the bustle of a living city. These things are a bygone memory to those of Dhaakan, a fading dream. But in the Uul Dhakaan dreams are made manifest, this realm, secreted away from the Dreaming Dark,7 was the last bastion of Dhakaani culture. Most goblins can no longer access it, but Te’Kraat is different, he is a true heir, and he has a key. He drifts through the myriad visions of possible futures, the hopes and dreams of one dhaar become the burdens and terrors of another. But the keepers of this sacred place favor Te’Kraat, and he is whisked away to meet with his old master. The venerable hobgoblin still stands a good foot above Te’Kraat, although it used to be more. The two spend what feels like hours discussing the mission and the results of Te’Kraat’s latest craft. The old master waxes poetic about the ancient ways of their people that nobody in a thousand years had practiced.
During the course of the conversation Te’Kraat gains the overwhelming sensation that something other than his master is watching him, when he spins around the dreamscapes of the Uul Dhakaan have melted away, revealing a field of eyeballs, tethered to the landscape with thin strips of nerve. They stared at him, all of them, in their uncountable infinity. He could see they were laughing at him, where once there was the warrior smith, there is only a mewling babe. He curls up in a fetal position, hiding his gaze from theirs, but he can see through his eyelids, through his own body, he sees himself, and She sees him.
THE NEXT DAY
Te’Kraat awoke on the stone floor of the forge, he quickly dusted himself off and assessed his work. He focused on the pride he felt in his work, it distracted him from the events of the dreaming. And this new armor was something to take pride in, nearly as hard as adamantine8 and laden with magical protection runes, was some of his best work yet. But he didn’t have time to sit back and admire his work, he had a job to do in these mountains. He began the laborious process of putting the armor on, without anyone to help him it took about an hour. But when he put it on he didn’t feel as encumbered
as with his old steel armor, although both sets were made by him, the fit on his newest work was superior. Te’Kraat gathered up his supplies into his pack, which was enchanted to hold vast quantities of items. He took great care in removing his Ghaal’Shaarat*9 from the wall, and after carefully cleaning and oiling the blade he placed it into its sheath and balanced it on his shoulder.
Te’Kraat began to examine himself, his normally crimson red skin was now a dull rust color due to the vast quantities of soot and grime built up in the forge. So he left the forge and went to the center of this place, he was in a long abandoned hold of his people, the Dhaakani, in their long absence, kobolds and surface goblins had moved in their place. The yapping draconic speech of the kobolds mixed with a twisted dialect of goblin, forming a novel dialect Te’Kraat could only half understand. The halls of the ancient and once great place were lined with scrap-build hovels and heaps of trash, and while Te’Kraat didn’t appreciate interlopers in his ancestors halls, he also knew he could do nothing about it alone. So Te’Kraat assumed the guise of Chat, a surface goblin bastardization of his true name, and he masqueraded as one of them. He shuddered to think about what the humanoid nations of the surface would do if they knew that the ancient goblins still lived. For they did, deep under the ground, in the vaults, ancient magical constructs, sealed away to protect the best and brightest of the empire. Te’Kraat is one of them, and his duty to his people compels him forward on his quest, but first he has to clean off. The one thing Te’Kraat couldn’t complain about was that these outsiders had brought a cleansing stone, a unique charm of surface societies. When he placed his hand upon the stone he was instantly cleaned, all mud and muck, soot and ash, grease and grime, was immediately removed from his body; And while Te’Kraat enjoyed the bath houses of his home, he had to admit that cleansing stones are extremely efficient creations. The denizens of this place had learned not to bother him, for he cared not about their conversation or their business. Te’Kraat had learned during his time on the surface, that the other goblins who resided up there did not care for reclaiming their people’s past, they do not consider themselves Dhakaani anymore. He would not waste any more time with them. So he left this place, the dilapidated ruin of his people only made his desire to reclaim his peoples artifacts even stronger. For he knew that his people were the only hope for Khornvaire.10
ONE WEEK OF TRAVEL LATER
Te’Kraat shoved the boulder aside, CRASH Crash crash, it went against the mountainside. He had finally reached the place, and while his people held no gods, this was as close to a holy site as the Dhakaani could have. He stepped into the space, guard up, he had been warned by his old master that the Great Enemy had personally defiled this place, and left their servants behind. He unsheathed his Ghaal’Sharaat, the faint blue-ish purple glow of the byeshk blade barely illuminated the space, but as a hobgoblin his natural dark vision made it seem like a brightly glowing torch.
He had long practiced tunnel fighting, it was one of the first styles a young dar warrior learns, he knew how to hold his blade so it wouldn’t get caught on anything as he moved forward. After what felt like hours of traveling through this cramped tunnel Te’Kraat began to feel a chill. From his bag he pulled an odd looking lantern, it was quite small and looked poorly designed to brighten up a space; he lit the wick inside, which produced a pulsating magenta flame, his long ears darted around like a cat listening for prey. He continued on, the flame pulsating more rapidly the further he traveled. Te’Kraat knew what this meant, the warning was true, the Great Enemy did stalk this place. He also knew that if he had detected it, it had detected him, and he had no time to waste. He rushed forward, the tunnel giving way to a hallway, carved out of smooth black stone, ancient mosaics of hobgoblins and bugbears11 forging great works decorated its walls. But something was wrong about the depictions, where a little stone representing the eyes should have been, was nothing but an empty cavity.
Te’Kraat Lurched forward, a wave of nausea hit him, a psychic influence had attempted to invade his mind, but he managed to fend it off. His gaze darted around the room, before looking further down the hallway. Where there was once just darkness, now two glistening black eyes, barely reflecting his blades light, caught Te’Kraat’s attention. Space fell away alongside him, his focus was funneled directly into those cold black eyes, there was no emotion, just cold understanding. Te’Kraat had nightmares about this creature before, it was whispered about by the children in hushed tones, he could feel it, scraping around the edges of his mind, stripping through it layer by layer. The creature lurched forward, it’s pale flesh now made manifest in the light of his blade. It had a bulbous head, with pale purple flesh, it’s eyes are like pools of tar, the dot of reflected light resembling an iris. The rest of its face was smooth, with four tentacles where a mouth would be on a human. It’s body was a bony mockery of the humanoid figure, no wonder these things usually hid themselves behind cloaks. When Te’Kraat went to lunge forward with his blade, he found himself unable to move. Then he heard a voice, it pierced into his mind like a razor blade, “Child of antiquity, your time is over, this vessel may be starving and weak, but my sister already lies in the corners of your mind, even if you defeat this spawn of mind, She will have you, her gaze is upon you.” Upon the completion of this message, the slick black surface of the eyes pulled back, revealing glowing orange pupils. It let go a wet warbling hiss and rushed forward. Regaining control over his body, Te’Kraat managed to interpose his great sword between him and the frenzying creature. Its pale flesh sizzled against the blade, the tentacles on its face tried to wrap their way around Te’Kraat’s skull. The psychic assault this thing unleashed was the true threat. Warbling popping sounds came from the glowing runes on his armor, the defensive energies were burning out under the psychic might of the flayer. But the creature was frail in body, Te’Kraat managed to align his great swords blade against the creatures flesh, and in a sizzling flash, he bisected the abomination, foul smelling ichor coated him, Te’Kraat had won.
1 A purple metal that is especially effective against certain monsters, from Exploring Eberron, by Keith Baker.
2 The ancient goblin word for their people, from Exploring Eberron, by Keith Baker.
3 The living remnants of the once great Dhaakani empire, a society of goblins that ruled an entire continent for thousands of years. Now a shadow of its former self. From Exploring Eberron, by Keith baker
4 An order of druids sworn to seal away the great evils of this world.
5 Goblin for Hobgoblin,
6
9
10
HOLDING THE CARDS
Graphic design is all around you. Students use principles and elements to create meaningful messaging and marketing pieces. They unite type and image to develop a range of visual materials such as logos, packaging, and this very publication.
www.villa.edu/academics/graphic-design
the MessengersDESIGNGRAPHIC
Tristan Breton “Spartan.” Original font
Sulkowski
Jakiyrah Mason “Whimsy Willow.” Original font
Tanner DeMarco “The Space Station.” Poster series. 15"x20"
“Every
TOP Nicholas LeBarron “Trash Boy.” Acrylic on canvas. 8"x8"
ABOVE Rachel Hooper “Blurred Perception.” Oil on canvas. 16”x20”
RIGHT Leanna Curts “Plaster Exercise.” Mixed media. 5"x16"x5"
Timiyah Curry “Pony.” Mixed media
Claudette Colvin What’s holding
HOLD YOUR OWN
Where students bring their imagination and creativity to develop their vision into physical works of art. Students command a wide variety of disciplines to include sculpture, painting, drawing, and mixed media. www.villa.edu/academics/fine-arts
A hollow wall, emptiness stretching up into an arc to the ceiling. The barrier between the trash heap and the outside world, a factory in of itself keeping the city running. Machines buzzed and whirred, pumping and generating the power that gave life to the vast array of buildings and infrastructure kept within the concrete birdcage.
Helix walked around, in the middle of his daily routine, checking a quarter of the vast outer shell for any malfunction. Government grants covered the cost of keeping the systems and machines running, but not a sizable staff for maintenance. Thus, his legs hurt like hell.
As he made his way around another garden of metal, a strange sound was caught in his ears. He approached a bumbling and humming obelisk of machinery.
Helix didn’t have a single moment to acknowledge the hand piercing his chest before all life left his body. A metallic arm sparked as it retreated through the fresh corpse, heart held mangled within. Two bright red lasers of eyes stared at it intently before crushing it within their fist. The hand shook wildly, grip tight as a vise, as smoke began rising. Electricity raced up and down the
Zander was born in the Grease District of New Livewire City, a walled off maze of factories flooding the streets with toxic fumes and drugging everyone up on rat poison. In alleyways and carved out walls of those factories were the dwellings of those who lived in the hidden heart of the city, and where Zander was raised to be just like his parents, a slave to the factory line.
His head started burning, a pain he was growing used to, yet unbearable nonetheless. He gripped the corner of the table as he struggled to his feet, switching the radio off and sending the room into dead silence. It was time to go to work.
He stumbled over to the door, smacking the side of his head with his palm as though he was trying to remove some water that had got in his ear. He knew the pain wouldn’t leave until he arrived. But perhaps adding some new pain could alleviate it, if just for a moment.
Moving into the next room, he paused and stared at his dirty mattress shoved in a dusty corner, yearning to return to it and fall asleep forever. The pain would wake him up though. He could feel it already starting to worsen. It would get worse the longer he took to clock in. At what point could he
arm, until eventually, the palm was opened, a small concentration of pure electric energy sitting there. It buzzed, flashing around and forming itself into a shape, a tiny pixie.
The newly born creature let out a childish laugh, jumping out of the hand and bouncing around the machinery, disappearing into the darkness. So too did the mysterious figure, retreating into the bowels of the Powerworks.
Zander sat completely still in the darkened room. The buzz of the electric lights had long died, and no windows stood on the walls to let sunlight invade his space. The room was empty, hollow, not too small but not too big. In the center sat a simple table with an analog radio atop it, a stiff and unpleasurable wooden chair beside it. His arm rested on the table as he sat in his chair, and the static and dull sound of the radio enveloped his entire world.
He scratched his bad eye, flakes of rust shedding and falling to the floor. It was a bad habit, he knew, but one so difficult to kick. The noise of the radio would usually distract him enough to remove his thoughts from it entirely, but with how his life had been going recently, nothing could prevent his mind from wandering.
in these dumps in the first place because they were broken, unfitting of the perfection of the main city. The garbage dump the city would die without.
The large sheet door to his workplace screeched as he dragged it to the side, and all at once the horrid sounds of the factory floor erupted within his ears. Steel smashing into metal, screams of workers and products alike, the burning pain in his mind quickly replaced by the pain of existing within such a place.
He pressed his flesh hand against a scanner on the wall. A tiny needle came out and poked him what could have been anywhere between three and thirty times. The holes closed up and Zander proceeded into the maws of the factory.
Check the product with the blueprint. Examine for any critical malfunctions or exceptionally shoddy materials. Scan the electronics. Make any necessary adjustments. Send it forward. Repeat. The day-today grind had, like so many other monotonous tasks, become a numb cycle of dissociation that plagued many of his fellow residents. A soldering iron popped out from his wrist as he stopped the track to make an adjustment. The track kept going. A spark flew out from his hand as the iron stopped halfway out. Zander blinked, coming back to himself.
Being thrust back into a conscious work flow, he tried retracting his tool. Smacking his arm around, the thing just wouldn’t seem to go back in. Scoffing, he focused on the task at hand until the day was over.
Walking back out into the same fluorescent sky that adorned the city as when he entered, Zander redirected his attention back to his prosthetic arm. The soldering iron was still half out, trying to go back in but failing, writhing like a worm on hot pavement. He sighed. It was unfortunate, but he would need to go get it fixed. There goes his salary for six months.
Entering the shop, the old man behind the counter grunted as a tiny bell jingled above him. He walked over to the divider and held out his arm, words not required. The old man inspected it carefully, stroking the gray hedge of a beard that hid half his face. He grabbed the arm, twisting and pulling, turning and prodding, opening and closing bits and pieces searching for a malfunction. Eventually, he huffed and sat back.
“What’re you wasting my time for, kid? Ain’t nothing wrong with yer arm,” he stated in a gruff voice. Zander looked at him puzzledly.
“The iron’s stuck out, and I can’t use anything else. Something is pretty wrong!” he replied.
“So, ‘ave ye tried retractin’ it?” He grumbled, “Everything looks like it’s workin’ just fine. Seems like the problem might be in yer head, kid. Now get outta here before I charge ya fer this.”
Zander dejectedly left the store, staring at his now much less useful arm. He gave it a light shaking, trying to wiggle the iron back in place in vain. As much as it was obvious that there was an issue, the mechanic knew his stuff. If he couldn’t fix it, there might as well be nothing wrong. He’ll have to let his boss know it’s not working when he goes in tomorrow. He hates talking to his boss, and delivering bad news? He might just die.
He stood back up, fidgeting, straining his eyes to find the source of the noise. He was blinded as a lamp directly in front of him blazed to life, only to die almost immediately. Down the street, another flashed him, and another, leading him further into the belly of the city. The lights disappeared in the distance, but the buzzing remained.
Struggling, stumbling, buzzing growing louder, maniacal, street after street, turns dictated by the faintest tugging in his gut and a vibration in his arm. Darkness, blink of light, follow the sound, follow the direction, follow the signs, from a restaurant logo to a neon arrow pointing to nothing. The glow emanated from a doorway, unmoving, restrained from its previous energetic leaping. Like a starving dog to a discarded slab of meat Zander slobbered towards it, desperate to find a haven from the insanity the darkness was seeping into his mind. Why were there children laughing? He needed to escape. His head was on fire, the pain both familiar yet new. What could they possibly want from him right now? Did they know what was going on in the trash heap? He barreled towards the light on all fours. Did they care that he was dying? No. Of course they didn’t. His head slammed into a concrete wall, dry tears peeling off his face. They couldn’t care less whether he was dead or living, he did what he was told regardless. A rusty cog easily replaced. Still, the least they could do is TURN ON THE FUCKING LIGHTS.
The glow sputtered as he reached the doorway. He was nearly in tears, praying that the light stayed. He collapsed under it, falling into the flickering circle of warmth. He lay in the refuge of the humming, taking his time before lifting his scratched and torn face from the pavement. He was back at the factory where he worked. What a cruel game to play with his heart, making the only place with the safeness of light be the one that perpetuated his torment. What a horrible twist of fate to hold him here. Hold him here... Hold him here?
He wasn’t safe.
The large doors slammed shut behind him. The soft click of the lock going into place rung in Zander’s ears like a bomb had been dropped. Around him, a cacophony of high-pitched, childlike voices laughed horrid laughs to mock him, hiding in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling high above, and in every piece of machinery within the factory.
The lights burst on and the place became alive, everything running and screaming and laughing those damn laughs. Flashes of electricity shot across the floor, jumping in and out of machines, sending sparks out in waves. Zander felt a painful jolt in his back as he saw a little yellow creature fly forth from his stomach, smile wide and laugh playful, leaving a burst of pain and stinging sensation as it exited his body. He looked down to see a singed hole in his worn clothes, a nasty burn mark newly painted across his abdomen.
Turning back to the floor, he squinted into the area. He noticed all of the bolts he saw flying around were those same creatures. Some danced in front of his eyes, most bounced around the room as though they needed to release every drop of energy from their electric bodies.
stop caring? Give up and succumb to the endless hurt? Not today.
He walked out his front door, shimmying out as the door smacked into the wall opposing it. He was immediately assaulted by smells of sulfur and burning, the loud crashing of metal and shattering of glass, kicking up a thin layer of ash beneath his feet. He carefully maneuvered himself, trying his best to avoid getting the ash inside his abode.
Strolling down the wretched streets of half-dead neighbors and a mixture blood and oil coating walls and paths alike as though they were Christmas decorations in November, he reveled in the sheer abhorrence that his town elicited. One would believe that growing up and living your entire life in a set of circumstances would lead to a normalization of said circumstances, but it didn’t take a genius to see this was not a quality of life that one should strive for.
He had only been to the main city once, but couldn’t have possibly gotten a thorough impression of what life was like for a normal person there. Anyone visiting the towering skyscrapers and vibrantly lighted streets of New Livewire Central from the Grease District was ostracized, barely given a right to live. He couldn’t blame them. They were thrown
The echoes of his footsteps falling in time with the clutter of the city had him in such a trance within his mind that Zander failed to notice that he couldn’t see the ground at his feet. He stopped in his tracks. The artificial glow of the city was dead. The lights that had lit his life from the moment he had entered its world was gone, along with any dim lights that typically seep from clouded and broken windows. Nothing but darkness. Where did the noise go? Where did his legs go? Why weren’t there screams of panic and hollers of annoyance?
He felt something brush his arm in the void.
“Hello?” He called out to the darkness. The eerie silence remained. He flipped around, or at least did the best he could with no sense of direction. A faint glow in the distance was the only landmark, thus the best option forward. He smacked against signs and trash cans, tripping on the curbs and stumbling against walls, until the buzz of the streetlamp became audible. He didn’t see another living being trying to approach or take refuge in the only visible patch of ground he could see.
It went out. Silence returned. Deafening. Zander sat down. He just laid in the middle of the street. Nobody ever told him what to do in this situation. Moving was probably a worse choice. Then again, through the curtain of black, he heard the buzzing of electricity.
Another one flew through his neck. He started coughing heavily, a burning sensation lingering in his throat. He gently touched the entry point and recoiled at how much it hurt from such a faint feeling. Dodging was of the essence. The pixies began to coalesce where he was standing, pushing him further into the building. He gave his best effort ducking and weaving, feeling his body grazed by an unbelievable heat as they rocketed through the air like bullets, his eyes barely following even one of their movements.
His back hit a wall. Shuffling to the sides, it was all he could do to not get pierced in a critical part of his body. Hitting a wall, he glanced to find himself next to the glass door to his manager’s office. Quickly diverting his attention from the onslaught of pixies, he quickly entered the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
The lights buzzed to life as he entered. Standing across the office was his manager, slumped in a chair, burn marks littering his body and searing holes in his usually perfectly kept suit. There was a door leading outside on the other side of the room. Past the corpse.
Zander approached slowly, silently. The roaring waves of giggles and thunderous laughter was relatively muted through the door. They weren’t getting in yet. Slowly. Carefully. Quietly. Snap. A loud zap echoed throughout the room. Zander froze. He turned to look at his boss. At first, it
Francesca Lehner “Expiration.” Oil on canvas. 16"x20"
“The pen and the written word hold a great deal of power.” Andy Biersack
appeared as though nothing had changed. Then, another zap, and the body twitched. A yellow glow began to emit.
Suddnly, the body began spasming wildly as sparks began shooting out from every burn. Zap pixies began launching out from his insides, born into the world laughing like children on Christmas morning.
Zander fell back in an attempt to avoid their paths, and then saw a bunch of them return to the corpse of his boss. He sat for a moment, paralyzed by the sudden burst of activity ending as quickly as it began. The laughs never faded. More jolts, his manager’s arms flailed. As the laughs seemed to grow louder, he watched the dead body struggle to its feet limbs flying around as though they were being controlled independently of each other. The head slowly raised itself to stare at him, two empty burns replacing eyes. A sagging mouth twitched into a crooked smile as the laughs began emanating from it louder.
It staggered towards him, swinging its arms around while trying to reach out to him. He scrambled backwards, jumping to his feet. Running purely on instinct, he grabbed a folded chair leaning on a wall and drove it across the corpse’s torso. It went flying across the room, shattering the glass door and tumbling into the main floor.
A trail of blood led from him to the body, now full of glass shards nestling in the unburned flesh. Zander stood there, breathing heavily, and dropped the chair.
The body began twitching again, contorting in hellish ways as it lifted itself on all fours. Its neck snapped 180 degrees, let out a screech that somehow had the tones of a laugh in it, and charged at him.
Zander scrambled backwards, searching for the door back out into the city streets as the thing crawled over the broken furniture littered across the floor. He ran across the wall until finally feeling the handle that led to his salvation. He shook it violently as the creature jumped into the air towards him.
The door crashed open, and Zander fell out onto the cold stone pathway. He quickly kicked the door shut, and heard two massive slams as the body hit the other side. It continued slamming itself against the door as he sat there in the dark, finding it more comforting now than before. Eventually, he got to his feet. He could get home from here. The same path he took to and from work every day. He just wanted the nightmare to end.
He closed his eyes, and began walking home. Silence followed. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe the little creatures only existed his mind, in his eye. Maybe everything would be fine if he just went to sleep.
He pushed his door open, letting it swing shut as he passed by his mattress, into the back room. He sat in his chair, eyes still closed. He put his face in his hands. He had no concept of what time it was, but it hardly mattered. He just needed to forget. What was he doing?
His radio buzzed to life beside him. He was too exhausted to move. He raised his head towards the device, but kept his eyes closed. He pushed his finger towards the off switch, muscle memory guiding his hand, only to find that it was already pushed. It was not turned on. Static reverberated throughout the room. A little zap of light moved from the radio into his arm.
The radio began laughing. Stations switched constantly, playing seconds of music or talk shows all with the laughs growing louder and louder. Zander couldn’t move his arm. Unbearable. Ringing in his ears. He couldn’t take it. His arm lifted. Thundering. Deafening. It needed to end. His fingers were pointed, and tiny blades popped out from their tips. As his hand rose next to his head, he could hear the laughing within it as well. It all needed to stop. He would be okay if he just accepted it.
His hand flew, driving a hole straight through his head, and collapsed forward onto the floor. After a few minutes, the radio went silent, and several small bursts of light flew out of the room, disappearing into the dark city in search of a new toy.
“The words that we use, I think, are symbolic of the values that we hold.” Angela Duckworth
“The hour is seven A.M. The hour is seven A.M. The hour is seven A.M…”
The AI droned on, serenading a now irritated cadet, whose eyes tightly shut before reluctantly splitting open. A limp hand flopped on her nightstand like an eel out of water, until it reached the sensor on the top of the alarm. The computer studied its internal schedule for a moment before barking, “WARNING! YOU HAVE OVERSLEPT BY NINETYFOUR MINUTES. WARNING! YOU HAVE OVERSLEPT BY NINETY-FOUR MINUTES.”
Phuoc Bao Nhi-or, as she was christened by her squadmates, “Nano”-was supposed to be in her uniform and out the door by now, but foolishly decided to take a chance on her biological clock waking her instead of setting an earlier alarm. Her squadron’s graduation into true Cosmogony Guard operatives was to happen at eight AM sharp. For a cadet who woke up on the time scheduled, they had a whole two-and-a-half hours to get prepared. Nhi only had one.
In the shower, she had to rub shampoo and body wash on herself at the same time. She had to press the towel to her head and blow dry at the same time. She had to brush her hair and apply her silver hair dye at the same time. With no time left over to brush her teeth, she just did a quick gargle of mouthwash and hoped that would be enough to dispel her morning breath. She struggled to tie her ponytails as she staggered out of her dorm and into the locker room.
It felt like opening a Christmas present when Nhi opened her locker. The official Cosmogony Guard spacesuit had already been hung inside by the custodian. Its shiny red-and-gold latex was almost too beautiful to disturb. Almost. Nhi fought her way out of her pajamas like a puppy wrestling loose of a blanket, but put on the spacesuit with utmost care and grace. As soon as the buttons were all buttoned, Nhi looked for the nearest reflective surface and twisted her body in all directions, admiring how the spacesuit captured sunlight.
Wearing the suit filled her belly with the burning sensation of pride. Three years ago, she felt ready to break after a single pilot’s test. Look at her now. All those field missions, exams, exercises, she’d made it. She reached the end of the tunnel. She could already picture this jumpsuit glimmering in the cockpit of a shiny new ship, as she circled around friendly planets just for fun. She could hear all walks of space cheering for her, a new symbol of hope and safety across the galaxy.
As she got lost in her own eyes, a tentacle appeared behind her head. Its appearance was accompanied by some sort of shrill, glitchy sound, which it danced to erratically. There was no creature attached to it. Nhi spun around, and the tentacle vanished into the air.
The cold feeling Nhi got from that tentacle followed her outside, over the bridge overseeing her city, into the garden. What was that tentacle? A thought bubbled in her brain, while nausea bubbled in her gut. Its color, its slimy hide, its twisting movements, the entire thing felt familiar. But why? She hadn’t had any nightmares about tentacles, and even then, she was sure she was awake, thanks to the railing she bumped her funny bone on. No, if there was an incoming threat to the academy, the graduation wouldn’t be happening today. Nhi and all her fellow squadmates and trainees would get sealed underground as a protective measure. Nothing could be wrong today. As such, she ultimately decided to keep heading for the ceremony.
She saw a senior operative resting in the garden. His long fins were half-buried in moist soil, but the rest of him was soaking up the sunshine. All three of his eyes locked on to the nervous graduate.
“Come here,” he said smoothly. “Sit and enjoy the blossoms.”
Nhi complied, but as soon as she sat down, she blurted out, “I saw a tentacle behind me!”
“What tentacle?”
“It looked just like the one right there!”
“Right where?” The senior couldn’t see the gigantic tentacle sprouting up from the distant cityscape like she could.
“B-but it’s right there! It’s attacking the-!” Nhi watched the tentacle cause the sky to flicker red around it before it disappeared completely.
“It’s gone! Just like the one I saw earlier. Am I dreaming? Can you shake my shoulders? Maybe bite me?”
The senior rolled his eyes. He’d never comforted a graduate with such a wild imagination before. His slimy tail sifted through the garden until it found
the patch of Satinspeckle flowers. Satinspeckles had the sweetest, lightest fragrance that was sure to keep the young girl calm. Having chosen the freshest blossom, he passed it from his tail into his hands, carefully weaving it into Nhi’s hair.
“That will keep your head in reality,” he remarked playfully.
Nhi took a slow, deep sniff of the flower. “Oh, thank you. This will also cover up the fact that I didn’t wash my hair quite right.”
Just then, Unice Orebeam, Nhi’s instructor, spotted her from the opposite gate. The lion-shaped alien was waiting for her specifically, and had half a mind to go to her dorm and drag her out of bed himself. He cupped his massive paws to call her. “NANO!
NAAAAANOOOOO!”
Immediately, Nhi stumbled to her feet with all the grace of a newborn pony, further irritating her instructor.
“Mr. Orebeam, I’ve been seeing tentacles-”
“We’ll discuss it after we discuss your terrible time management. Get in there!” Mr. Orebeam shoved her into the corridor. With all his cadets accounted for at last, he put his paw to his forehead and sighed out the rest of his exasperation.
As for Nhi, she quickly found herself teased by her squadmates and other graduates.
“Nano! Why didn’t you set your alarm?”
“Did you try to brush your hair and your teeth at the same time? You’ve got knots in your ponytails.”
“Only Nano could oversleep on the most important day of her life!”
Nhi supposed she should’ve felt hurt, but the normalcy of the room was refreshing. She didn’t see any tentacles coming to ambush her this time. Just people she felt comfortable around. However, as she assumed her seat with the graduates, walking felt a little strange. She felt like something was pushing hard against her, that she really had to push her legs out to move anywhere. And it seemed that her squadmates were feeling it, too. They kept standing still for a moment before pressing forward. With no time to ask questions, she chalked it up to nerves.
As the grand master of the Cosmogony Guard made her speech about hope, perseverance, and all that jazz, Nhi’s mind drifted off into her daydreams about exploring space as a newly christened member. She imagined flying wild and free over the mountains, all while being cheered by swathes of alien life forms.
“Phuoc Nhi!”
“Phuoc Nhi!”
“Phuoc Nhi!”
“NANO! FOR GOD’S SAKE, NANO!”
“Time to claim my license already?” Nhi straightened her hair. She’d been so deep in her daydream, coming back to reality felt just like waking up that morning…To the sight of another giant tentacle.
And this one DEFINITELY wasn’t imaginary. It’d tunneled directly through the floor, seizing all the present staff as the audience was flung every which way.
“Nano! Run!” Mr. Orebeam choked out in his final breaths, as the tentacle effortlessly constricted him. “It wants to get you, too! Run! Meet with the others! Form a-!” His being pulled into the floor gave Nhi the jolt she needed to get moving.
The other would’ve-been graduates met similar fates all around her. Tripped by smaller tentacles, crushed by larger ones, it was a mess. The power struggled to stay on, but the water had no trouble bursting out of the pipes and flooding the halls, making escape even harder. There wasn’t a single surface that hadn’t been burrowed through and damaged. The grand hall was crumbling to bits from all the stress. Was this it? Was hope lost for Nhi?
“Hey, you! Up here!”
She discovered that the senior from the garden had used his tail to gather rubble into a crude staircase. He and his squadmates were helping the graduates escape to the roof, a chance Nhi graciously took.
Emma Maue Untitled. Oil on canvas. 16"x20"
“How did you know this was happening?!” The senior demanded, his eyes wild with both confusion and fury.
Nhi gulped. “I don’t know! I just started seeing them, and…” Her eyes went wide, taking in the now sickly red sky. “...I didn’t think it would get this bad!”
“You should’ve-”
The senior froze, his face stuck mid-sentence. Nhi reached to shake his shoulders, but her hands went right through him. When she looked for help, she noticed people phasing through the walls, jittering between positions, abruptly changing between alive and dead. Anyone running past her seemed to freeze and teleport a few steps ahead. Somehow, she was the only one whose body still behaved normally. Her jaw was slack as her mind tried desperately to untangle what was happening. While she pondered at the speed of light, another tentacle rose from the floor behind her. Mucus dripping onto her shoulders reminded her that she was still in horrific danger. If she wanted to figure out what this nightmare actually was, she had to survive.
When she escaped to the hangar, she noticed an old shuttle with its doors open, which she threw herself inside without hesitation. What she thought was a reprieve from the strangeness turned out to be yet another source of it, as even though she was the only occupant, the doors still shut, and the launch sequence completed all on its own. When the force of her takeoff slammed her into the back wall, Nhi was out cold.
She awoke to the smell of fresh grass and chirping birds, a brief hope spot that the nightmare was over. Unfortunately, the smell of smoke from burned thrusters mixed with it. In addition to enacting its own escape, the shuttle had also managed to find a safe, habitable planet to crash on. Nhi was safe, but all, all alone. She was supposed to feel scared, but, for some reason, she just couldn’t muster up anything more than confusion.
“These birds sound…And so does the way this is all dented up…And this nausea…” Nhi mused to herself as she clambered out into the open. She was sure from the pain in her joints that she was still awake. Why did reality seem to break around her back there? How did she simultaneously know what was about to happen and be unaware of it? Why was she the only one to survive?
With all these questions weighing on her, Nhi took herself for a walk. She walked through a grove of pine trees, she walked through a swamp, she walked through a field of weeds. Even if she saw something potentially interesting, she just kept walking. She kept walking until the sun went down, but she sure didn’t feel like sleeping after all that. “What do I do now?”
She didn’t have to answer that. Under her feet, wood creaked. Nhi looked down at a rotted circle of wooden planks. It looked awfully like the cover of aSnap.
The wood gave way, and Nhi was swallowed by an old, abandoned well.
The last thing she remembered was falling, falling, falling, her arms scraping on the stone around her, the air getting colder and colder as her vision turned black. A series of cracking bones, a couple seconds of unimaginable pain, and it was all over.
“The hour is seven A.M. The hour is seven A.M. The hour is seven A.M…”
Nhi woke up. She whirled around. Her bones were whole. She was back in the academy. The world was unharmed. Nhi’s lip quivered as she threw herself from her mattress, running off to find someone, anyone, to warn.
It would’ve comforted her to know that her plight was never ignored, not at all. For two alien scientists, each with a caterpillar-shaped body and a see-through cranium, had been watching her through a monitor.
“...Usually, she’s more careful about her surroundings than that…” mused the older scientist.
“Yeah. Very strange carelessness. She seemed too confused to concentrate on survival this time.” The younger scientist wrote everything down.
“How long has it been since we last ran the disk cleaner? The simulation is clearly breaking down. It’s so laggy.”
“The machine’s performance isn’t what we’re looking for, it’s the human’s performance.”
“Need I remind you that if this machine were to crash completely, she would go brain-dead, and then we would have to postpone this experiment until we’ve captured another one?” The older scientist scowled.
“Well, perhaps we SHOULD capture another astronaut. This one has been failing constantly. She hasn’t even gotten past the death game on Qabark-9-”
“We didn’t go through all the trouble of capturing this one just to release her for being too weak. She is to go through the simulation until she defeats that creature and saves the universe. Perhaps a little longer, if we feel she needs more growth after that.”
“The time we’ve spent trying to raise this one
human could’ve gone into the capture and training of hundreds more organisms,” the younger scientist grumbled.
“Oh, you act like this has been one big chore.” The older scientist collected a freshly burned disk that contained this past loop. He sealed it in a little case and set it with its siblings inside a cabinet. With that disk neatly stored away, he returned to the main console. He disregarded any further arguments from the younger scientist as he postponed the simulation and ran the disk cleaning program. They both watched as Nhi abruptly lost her energy and passed out, before the simulation went black.
In the large tank between them, the real Nhi laid in suspended animation. They’d turned her into something more wires and hooks than flesh and bone, complete with tubes for eating, breathing, and excreting waste. A headset was bound tightly to her eyes, nose, and ears, keeping her firmly in their false reality. When the simulation turned off, her heart rate fell to 84, and her body twitched like this was just a regular sleep.
“Once we have this project completed, the public will be interested in knowing how many cycles it took. The effects it had on the subject’s psyche. How we can train another human to the same heights in less time.”
Leanna Curts “Respite.” Acrylic on canvas. 3'x2'
Courtney Elsaesser “Disposable Desires.” Mixed media
