all future rights to material published in Wolf Print Magazine are retained by the individual authors and artists. (The opinions expressed in the poetry, fiction, or personal essays in Wolf Print Magazine are those of the authors and do not reflect the opinions of the Wolf Print Magazine editor(s), financial supporters, the Foundation, or Wilson Community College.)
a Publication of the Wilson Community College Foundation, Inc.
Wolf Print Magazine is a publication supported by the Wilson Community College Foundation, Inc.
Mission of Wolf Print Magazine
Wolf Print Magazine is a creative endeavor produced by the Wilson Community College Foundation, Inc.
Wolf Print Magazine provides an outlet for literary and artistic expression. It is filled with innovative writing, expressive art, meaningful essays, and intriguing short stories. We seek to advance the works of new and emerging writers, and we strive to continually publish works of literary value while expanding our readership.
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Financial Sponsors: Wilson Community College Foundation, Inc.
Established: February 2023 and published annually
Publisher: Wilson Community College Foundation, Inc. through Wilson Community College
A Letter From The Written Contest Judges, Susan Moses, Britney Smith, and Samantha Spencer
Written Winners
1st Place: “Shrink” by Jaylen Hoskins
There is something pretty raw here that seeps under the skin, an honesty and revelation that makes the reader feel discomfort about internal and external prejudice, about an evolution of resistance, and that resistance grows stronger in each stanza from “Stop touching it” to “Get your hands away from my hair.” This is revolution wrapped in self-deprecation. But that revolution reveals doubt and pain: “Maybe I’ll learn to love myself as I grow old.” The images throughout this piece are startlingly original and effective, the rhyme scheme deliberate and piercing with “sheep” and “meek,” “queer” and “peer,” “shoulder” and “bolder,” “me” and “free.”
2nd Place: “Questions” by Beverly Gillis
The recurring stanza intentionally slices the intro, middle, and conclusion where the most profound “questions” are asked about “freedom,” “equality,” and “justice.” This is perhaps a wakeup call for the powers that be and perhaps for us all, a treatise on wealth, power, injustice, and innocence that confronts our history and our future.
3rd Place: “Like Children We” by Ashonda Davis
In four brief verses, this poem invokes the nostalgia of a childhood that adults try to recapture through the games they played when they were young. It is both whimsical and melancholy at the same time. It addresses the child’s desire to grow up and the adult’s desire to revisit the carefree joy of youth. As children, we will eventually achieve our goal of growing up, but once there, we yearn to be children again, a goal we can never achieve.
Honorable Mention: “The Schoolboy’s Secret” by Jenna Henley
“The Schoolboy’s Secret” echoes the tone of a classic fairy tale with a clear protagonist set on a mission to save a kingdom. The schoolboy, to whom the title refers, is much more than a student taking exams. The story unfolds as he races ahead of trouble to reach his king, and the secret he carries is two-fold, leading the reader on his journey to reveal both secrets at the end.
A Letter From The Art Contest Judges,
Megan Davis and Kyla Strenge
Art Winners
1st Place: Petals in the Breeze by Leah Whetter
This charming painting displays a skillful understanding of layering and depth. The artist’s strategic use of color to build shadow with each layer produces unique dimension that makes each flower pop off the canvas. Bold brush strokes induce a subtle sense of movement that allows the viewer to conjure the feeling of a warm breeze gently swaying delicate daisies.
2nd Place: Too Loud, Too Quiet by Ky Stott
In a time filled with considerable chaos, this drawing perfectly illustrates the overwhelm one can feel being constantly bombarded with information. The artist’s choice of black and white pencil on paper creates a vivid contrast that adds intensity to the erratic emotion in this piece. The use of frantic and tumultuous lines brings form to the incorporeal voices created by a perpetually stimulating environment.
3rd Place: Fur Baby by Courtney Lewis
Photographing our beloved animal companions can be a difficult task as they are so often in constant motion. The perspective and framing of this photograph demonstrate not only attention to detail, but also the comfortable camaraderie between the dog and her owner. The rich colors and spectacular lighting make this captured memory a dynamic work of art.
Honorable Mention: Flowers in the Spring by Karah Flowers
This lively painting skirts the line between realism and imagination. The simple style and bold colors make one wonder what fantasy world this field of flowers may occupy. The artist’s adept use of an eye-catching palette and playful patterns keep the viewer mesmerized.
1 st Place Written Winner
“Shrink”
Jaylen Hoskins
Around my finger, I twist and turn the curls, A human petting-zoo with a head full of swirls. The hair of a sheep, Too timid, too meek. Stop touching it.
Eyes closed, I tug the coils, Knowing when I release, the joy at once spoils Pulling it down makes it feel better The envy inside my heart at once must fester. Forever slow in growth, forever remaining queer In contrast to my palm-colored peer. Seriously, I said stop.
Their hair with ease grows and falls to their shoulder, Mine shrivels up to the heavens in the shape of a boulder. With consistency the jealousy eats away at me For them it’s not called “wild” when it’s let free. Get your hands away from my hair.
I watch as the grass doesn’t grow in the winter’s cold Maybe I’ll learn to love myself as I grow old. You make fun with my hair more than you think, Inside, it makes me want to SHRINK.
Too Loud, Too Quiet
Ky Stott
2nd Place Art Winner
“Questions”
Beverly Gillis
The evidence is on display For all the world to see, But everyone looks the other way While the judicial system does nothing.
Is freedom just an illusion?
Are we all equal under the law?
Or does money and power purchase innocence? Can justice be bought and sold?
Wealth spent so long ago, Buys a country’s favors now. Weapons and money are sent overseas, While the needy at home do without.
Is freedom just an illusion?
Are we all equal under the law?
Or does money and power purchase innocence?
Can justice be bought and sold?
Our Founding Fathers, there’s a question, That weighs so heavily I have to ask.
When you wrote, “We The People,” Did you mean, “We The People Who Have?”
Is freedom just an illusion?
Are we all equal under the law?
Or does money and power purchase innocence?
Can justice be bought and sold?
Fur Baby Courtney Lewis
3rd Place Art Winner
“Like Children We”
Ashonda Davis
Like children we play Those games of long ago. Yes, we are adults, But maturity we forgo.
To be like a child again and live so carefree. The eyes of children in us Had never left you and me.
We dreamt as kids. Grown-ups we wished to be, But here we are older, And kids again we wished to see.
So, we play those kiddie games, But we play with an adult mind, And hope we have as much fun If Mother Nature is so inclined. Art Honorable Mention
Flowers in the Spring Karah Flowers
“The Schoolboy’s Secret”
Jenna Henley
Asher hardly registered the sound of the bells in the town’s old, magnificent chapel ringing noon. He raced down the cobblestone street, the quaint homes and wooden shops falling away around him. Were they still behind him? Asher strained to distinguish between the footsteps behind him and the bells, which proved impossible. He risked a glance behind him to see the archers, clothed in dark brown cloaks despite the spring heat, close at his heels.
Asher let out a word his mother would be shocked he knew and turned his eyes ahead, narrowly avoiding running into a servant carrying a basket of rolls. His eyes did a quick scan of the road around him. There! He swerved into an alley and raced through the shadows.
Dead end. No, no, no. asher spun in a circle. Catching sight of a wooden door, he slammed it open with his shoulder and dashed inside. The dark, musty room he found himself in appeared to be free of occupants. That was a risk that would have to be taken. He raced through the doorway, not waiting to hear if his pursuers were still behind him.
Asher stumbled into a hallway that ended in a wooden door thicker than the others. He swung it open and breathed a sigh of relief at the warm wind that greeted him. Sending a quick thanks to God, Asher dove outside and into a new alley, this one longer and seemingly without a dead end. Much better.
He raced for a bit longer, but the only footsteps echoing through the ally were his own. Had he lost them? Finally allowing himself to slow, Asher panted as he walked. A glance around showed an alley, hidden from the sun by the brick
walls of the buildings on either side. It appeared that he was lost. Asher shook his head. How could that happen? He’d spent his entire childhood exploring every nook and cranny the city contained, or so he’d believed.
“Give me a few days, and we will have a talk,” Asher directed his words at the brick walls staring down at him. He decided to play it safe and walked amidst the shadows for another few blocks, hoping the stench of unwanted animals and rotting food wouldn’t seep into his new wool vest.
Once he was certain the archers were truly gone, he slipped out of the alley and onto the sun covered street beyond. Instantly, he recognized the shops surrounding the cobblestone road as baker’s street. asher nearly laughed in relief. He picked back up to a run, now with more breath than before, racing toward the intoxicating and delighting smell of baking bread.
Asher burst through the front door of the two-story bakery. “Carley? Are you here?” A wave of hot air smelling of yeast and spices washed over him, answering his question before the merry voice could.
“Right by the ovens, Asher. Why, what are you doing here? I do believe those bells just tolled noon. are you skipping school again?”
asher strolled through the scattered tables covered in embroidered tablecloths and slipped through the swinging doors into the back. He smiled a hello at the rather plump lady pulling baked goods out of the stone oven. “Oh, do not worry
about that. I have more pressing issues right now. Family issues.”
Carley nodded and sent him a knowing look. “Ah, yes. I do believe your family has more issues than any other I know.”
Recalling the conversation he had overheard that morning and the chase with armed archers that had pursued, Asher was inclined to agree. “Right you are. But I can hardly do anything to stop it. I’m here because I need to get to Bayfield without delay. Things haven’t gone awry yet, but they are about to, and I have a message I must pass on. Could I possibly borrow one of your steeds?”
Carley sent him another look, this one laced with concern and caution. Asher had learned in his fifteen years not to trust anyone, but he had made an exception for Carley and her husband. If she hadn’t proven trustworthy, Asher noted, he would be a dead man by now. “Ah, that type of family business. Have your pick, as long as you bring it back sound. and, asher, do be careful.”
asher smiled in relief. “Thank you dearly, Carley. Do give Mr. Baker my best regards. If all goes accordingly, I’ll have your steed back and be able to dine with you two in a few days’ time.”
“We’ll be waiting.”
asher dashed out the back door of the bakery and into the small yard. His feet crunched on the grass as he crossed the yard to the small but well-kept stables at the back. He entered the wooden building to find a stableboy tending to the five horses. “Hello, Robert. The mistress has allowed me to borrow one of the horses. Is Shadow fit to join me?” he asked the young boy.
“Aye, he’s in fit shape at the moment. I’ll just grab his tack and get him ready for you,” the boy agreed.
“Wonderful, many thanks. You know, why don’t I help you?”
Asher hardly had twenty minutes to waste on a kid to spend pristinely tacking a horse.
With Asher’s assistance, the black stallion was ready in under five minutes. Leading him out into the courtyard, Asher stretched his leg up into the stirrup and pulled himself onto the tall horse’s back. Instantly, Shadow was bursting forward, begging to go. asher smiled. The stallion had been as good a choice as he’d hoped.
“Many thanks,” Asher called back to the boy as he guided the horse through the courtyard and onto the dirt road. It was littered with children playing games and women walking about, but the archers were nowhere in sight. Asher tapped his heels to the horse’s side and Shadow burst into an eager trot.
It took a matter of minutes to make it to the last of the homes lining the road, before the open grass fields and hills opened up in front of them. Shadow surged forward under him, obviously enticed by the idea of a straight stretch of empty road to gallop through. asher let him, holding the reins loosely as his body flowed with the horse. This was good; he needed to make record time to the abbey today.
Still, would it be too late?
Now that Shadow was doing the work, Asher’s mind had time to slow and take in what had happened. Thoughts began rushing through his mind faster than the hard-packed dirt was passing under him. He had overheard many private conversations in his years of hiding behind walls at the alehouse, but never one quite like this. The senators had been keeping their voices low, but Asher’s ears were keen, and he’d picked up on the words.
He’d uncovered their plot.
Asher laughed into the wind. What would his family do without him?
When the road turned from country dirt to city cobblestones, Asher slowed Shadow, allowing the stallion to take a breath. The shops and homes lining the street much resembled those in his town, two- or three-story buildings of wood with flowers and painted shutters keeping things festive, yet there was an undeniably proud feeling about this city. It was as if even the air could feel the importance of this place.
Asher guided Shadow through the roads and turns he knew so well. He had long ago memorized the route of narrow streets, dark and damp alleys, and main roads so that he could make the journey at any hour. Now, he was thankful for his memory, for his mind was still racing far too quickly to concentrate on simple instructions.
Slowly, the shops and homes were replaced by stone and brick buildings that reached up into the cloudy sky and housed businesses, government officials, and dozens of apartments. asher’s eyes hardly took these in before locking on the hill in front of him, and the impressive stone castle that stood atop it. The castle’s light gray stone made it blend in with the murky sky above, the four turrets nearly disappearing from asher’s sight. His heart leapt at the empty garden and fixed the drawbridge. He clucked Shadow into a trot, the horse’s muscles bulging under him as they covered the final stretch.
The gate enclosing the castle looked daunting as the sunlight shone on it, casting shadows of the metal bars along the ground. and yet, in that moment, asher found it comforting. He rode Shadow around to the side entrance, where a guard stood at alert, steel armor covering his chest and metal helmet over his head.
“G’day, sir, it’s Asher, and I’ve got vital news. Please let me through, and do tell Richard I’m on the way in. I’ll only be a few minutes to grab some things from my wing and put this good stallion away.”
The guard nodded and opened the large gates. Asher was clucking Shadow through before the metal had fully parted. He trotted the stallion the rest of the way into the cobblestone yard and turned toward the stables.
With the wooden stables in front of him, he hopped off the steed, his legs instantly protesting. He clearly needed to add riding to his daily activities. He led the stallion inside and a stable boy appeared at his side. “What’s this one’s name, Sir asher?”
“Shadow. Do take good care of him, lad, for he’s put in a good bit of work today. Give him a stable and some grain. I’ll likely need him again in another few hours. Or, better yet, saddle that new red mare for me? I’ll be out again shortly, as soon as I speak to my brother.”
“Urgent matters, then?”
asher took a deep breath of the stable air and nodded. “You could say that.”
The stable boy led Shadow away. Asher turned on his heel and walked back through the courtyard, his pace now layered with purpose. He pulled open the side door fitted among the rock walls and slipped inside.
Habit took over as Asher walked through the dark hallways, through the servant’s quarters and up a stone staircase to his own rooms. The smell of damp coolness given off by the stone walls wrapped him in its familiar embrace as he pulled open the wooden door and stepped inside. No time for emotions now, though. Asher didn’t spare a glance at his bed and dresser against one wall but turned to the other side toward his chest. He drew back the lid and plunged his hand inside. Out he drew a bow, with a pack of quivers.
asher shut the trunk, attached the quivers to his belt, swung the bow over his shoulder, and spun around. Now, did any more archers choose to chase him, he would be far from helpless. For, there was a high chance the men back in
the town would not be the only ones chasing him today. Asher closed the trunk and rose. It was time.
As swiftly as he had entered, Asher exited his castle wing and started through the stone hallways toward his brother’s wing. He passed a few servants, each stepping out of the way and bowing to him, though he hardly noticed; his mind was too occupied with the news he carried.
The number of servants increased as he entered his brother’s wing. The halls became larger, and the scent of wax candles floated amidst the mustiness of the castle. Then, the hall Asher was walking through opened into a large room with high ceilings that seemed to echo his every breath.
“Sir asher, good day to you. Can I be of help?” asher turned to see the scribe, Rowlan, approaching him.
“Yes, Rowlan, you can. I need to speak with my brother urgently,” asher told the man.
“Of course. Come with me; he’s not occupied at the moment.” Asher followed the scribe through the large room, dodging the stems and flowers protruding from the potted plants around the walls. The last few pieces of his plan fell into play as the scribe knocked on the huge, ornately carved door before them.
The door creaked open. The scribe stepped inside with asher on his heels. “Your majesty, King Richard,” the scribe said, dropping to one knee. In front of him, seated at a carved wooden desk, was the king, his tall figure and dark curls visible in the dim light.
asher strode past the scribe and over to the desk. “Hello, brother.”
at that, Richard’s serene face changed to one of surprise. “Why, hello, asher. I do believe you aren’t due for another visit until the end of the month, after your exams.”
“Yes, well, this is a bit of an emergency,” Asher said, crossing his arms and looking down at his brother, the king. “We do need to have a discussion about those exams and, um, what you should expect from them, but I believe this is an inopportune time for that.”
Richard could tell when Asher was being serious, as he was in that moment. The king stood in front of his young brother. “Tell me.”
“Um, I’ll be leaving you two?” Asher and Richard turned to the door where Rowlan still stood.
“No, stay,” asher insisted. “You should hear this, too.” He turned back to his brother. There was only a split second, just long enough for a shadow of doubt to cross his mind, before he went on. “I was at the tavern in Salsville today at around ten o’clock. I noticed a few senators slip into a private room and decided it would be in my best interest to see what they were discussing. Luisa helped me slip into the side walkway and I worked my way to the hearing spot. My judgement held true; they were discussing something of grave importance.
“Richard, the two were speaking of a traitorous crime. They mentioned a Henry of Archville, said dozens of words only the streets understand about you, and spoke poorly of their paychecks, but that was only the beginning. They went on to discuss a plan this Henry of archville had made to take your throne. I will share the details later, but for now, this is all you need to know; they are planning to start their plan tonight by taking the crowned jewels stored in the Abbey.”
Richard’s eyes turned from shock to cool calculation almost instantly. “Did they mention times? How long do we have?”
“All they said was tonight. I heard naught else. I feared I wouldn’t get here in time, but it’s only ‘nigh till five o’clock now. It appears we still have time.”
“Good,” Richard said. Asher could see the plans twisting around in his mind, identically to how they’d twisted around inside Asher for the last few hours. After a minute, he turned
to Rowlan. “Rowlan, do you have paper? Good. Write this down, if you will; a letter to the head minister.” He recited a quick message warning the man against rebel invasion. “I’ll have you deliver that to the abbey yourself. Asher and I will take care of getting the soldiers alerted. We should be able to get full security there within half an hour.”
“Aye, King Richard. I will be on my way now,” Rowlan said. He started to turn, then hesitated and spun back to face Asher. “I didn’t hear any of that, Sir Asher. You were at school all day and have never visited an alehouse, and you’re a star student.”
Asher smirked. “You’re a good man, Rowlan. We will never forget it.”
With that, the scribe disappeared. Richard turned to face his brother again. Although he was nearly twice the breadth and muscle of asher, they stood nearly eye to eye. “I cannot thank you enough, asher. You may have saved the country from a war.”
“Nay, the battle hasn’t been won yet. It hasn’t even commenced,” Asher warned him. “I am glad to be by your side, though. Shall we alert the soldiers?”
“aye. I see you’re already armed.” Richard smirked and nodded his chin toward the bow that swung over asher’s shoulder.
“Always.”
at that moment, the sound of church bells reverberated across the city and through the stone walls to Asher and Richard’s ears. The two caught each other’s eyes.
“I suppose that is our battle cry,” asher said.
“That it must be. Let us go save the kingdom.” Richard gave vhis brother a smack on the shoulder, and the two started toward the door, their identical blue eyes hardening with determination as the schoolboy and the King walked into battle.
Sunrise Niki Washington
“Mountain Life”
Olivia Smith
Down in the holler, living your best life, Surrounded by nature, beautiful and serene. Mountain tops seen far and wide. Temperatures cooler than down in the flatlands. Enjoying the change of the seasons. Mountain folk sure are nice.
Living the good, simple life. Slow pace away from all the city life. Listening to the creek run by, and the dead silence of night. Oh, how I long to be near to you again. Living in the holler, loving the mountain life.
“Arthur”
Baleigh Lofland
That morning was a hellscape. a nightmare by the sea. I didn’t believe you’d proceed Until it happened to be. We lost you in an instant. They said you did it to yourself, but I blamed it on my distance.
They said I couldn’t save you. What an erroneous assumption. Remorse remains the forever reality. As I’m left with a desolate consumption. The destruction created from your chosen lethality Still screaming out for you.
That day in the sand I should have known 1,095 days later
I’d still feel all alone.
“Without Rain”
Olivia Carter
It doesn’t rain here much. The crops are often dry. They even break to the touch. The bugs barely fly, And the grass has turned brown. The birds never sing. Everything looks dead all around. I look up to see what the clouds bring. a soft splash lands in the grass. Then, another, and another. I always thought rain was too much to ask. Most prefer the sun over the other. Others thought rain was an odd request. Everyone loves the sunshine, But when it poured, I never felt more blessed. It was finally time. The crops were given life, And the bugs danced in the wind. Sometimes, we need a little rain to thrive. Maybe just so we can be ourselves again.
Charlotte Emma Mercer
Once Upon a Time
Chantea Ellis
“Convincing for Independence”
Paxton Bailey
Loyalists want to stick with Britain. Not like us, we want to be free. They aren’t thinking right because they are just in freight. Britain doesn’t treat us right; that’s not a mother country.
You think we are powerless to Britain. You have sight; can’t you see?
The power is in us, not across the sea. We fought, rebelled, and dumped all the tea, And you want to stick on to Britain like a flea.
We do not need the most powerful military. While all you do is farm and not communicate, We do not need a mother country to moderate. These acts like the Navigatio, and Intolerable are harming us, And somehow you do not think this is alarming to us?
Why can’t you listen to Thomas Paine?
If we stick with Britain, we’ll eventually be slain. The acts that were put on us are so immense, So please refer to the pamphlet Common Sense.
“Unlike Any”
Brittany Boykin
You have freedom in your trap. You see the world in your way. Your future is bright, but there is no map.
You can’t see your importance or the role you play. You are sweet and kind to everyone you meet. You always seem to have that smile.
You love to feel the sand underneath your feet.
Can’t help but want you to stay for a while. You see the sparkles in the sky.
You see the colors are so blue.
You live your life without wondering why. Why anyone could be mean to you?
One day you’ll understand how wonderful you are, And how graceful you and your heart can be.
Knowing we will never be far
In the blue sky, so you can always see.
Your love is so pure, and we love you that way.
The light in you shines through.
A million years we wish we could stay.
You’re unlike any, and we love you.
“I’m A Slave To My Emotions”
Dyquell Bunn
Five-year-old me screams, wanting to know, If the rage has ended, or my rage has subsided. Why don’t I cry anymore? as much as I used to?
Has my skill just vanished? Now that I have healed? Is that only what I was? Just the result of my rage? am I just a slave to my emotions? Here I am, Sitting at desktop, with an empty doc and healed heart
Five-year-old me screams, wanting to know, If the rage has ended, or my rage has subsided.
“Dusk Sunset”
Saniyah Davis
The sunset brings long overdue peace.
The pretty sky filled with relatives, now deceased. Hues of gold, pink, and blue dry your tears. They help you remember the past years. Gold is your grandmother, a shining star. She helped you discover who you are. Pink is your aunt, a beautiful flower. She’d talk with you for hours. Then, blue is your grandfather, a vast sea. He was just like me.
I hold these colors close to my heart. Forever in remembrance.
My sea, flower, and star.
“Hibiscus Midnight”
Shanquilla Artis
Under the midnight sky in Hawaii’s embrace, Where stars shimmer like diamonds in a celestial race, I wander through the night, guided by moonlight beams To a field of hibiscus, blooming in my dreams. Their petals whisper secrets in the gentle breeze Colors vivid and bright, swaying with ease
In the stillness of midnight, a tranquil delight.
“Rain”
Shelby Byrd
I know what love feels like. Love is an emotion that makes you feel everything all at once. It’s a beautiful thing, love.
The feeling of butterflies in your stomach and blush on your face. Of wanting to see that person every second of everyday. Feeling like you need to breathe the same air, or you’ll suffocate. You want to drown in their scent, bathe in their light,
Hold their hand that seems to fit perfectly in yours , You want to talk through life with them, Yet you’re afraid.
afraid they don’t feel that same pull. That they don’t have that same need, Love is blind.
Not because everything else fades away, But because you’re not sure what will happen if you tell them. What if they don’t feel the same way? What if they do?
“Introductions”
Stephanie Everette
I tend to be on the dark side. You can always find me in all black.
Elegant fly or flashy fresh.
Always like midnight. We were upstate. It was winter.
He introduced me as the bossed-up shorty in endless black.
Forgive me if his title for my energy, Honey,
Sent me to another dimension. His words sent me to the dark side on command. Never to return again.
“To Wonder or to Worry?”
Nathan Bourdeaux
What exists beyond our world?
What lives beyond that which we know?
Is it something that we would benefit from finding?
Or is it something we should never find at all?
Are there life forms out there that we can befriend?
Or are there monsters that seek to harm us?
Are there worlds that contain beautiful sights? Or things that would bring about our end?
Is it worth exploring that which we do not know?
Or are there things that are better left alone?
Would knowing what’s out there bring you peace of mind?
Or would it lead to madness and suffering?
“Decay”
Cole Barnes
I see something stripped skin muscle on the bone unsightly trying to feel whole it’s bones creak and moan an old house I raise my hands covering my eyes in disgust a gruesome reflection harmonizing screams horrific realization
Andreya Andreya Daugherty
“Wading in the Waves”
Krishawanda Ellis
as I stand along the shoreline I can’t help but wonder.
Wonder if water has memory, and if it remembers each visitor. How it holds memories, Or if it holds a safe space. For those needing a place To Feel Loved, I wonder if
Wading in the waves helps? Water holds its memory.
“Desolation”
Cole Barnes
pervasive thoughts murmuring restrained by the skull wreaking havoc
crippling aches in my chest enraged by sinful suspicions a constructed aberration of a forsaken oath unsullied disbelief of reassurance warped perceptions of reality an endless cycle
“I Hope You Ride”
Shannon McCann
I hope you ride.
Ride like the wind.
Face towards the sun.
Your heart is like the road taking you wherever you need to go. Once in a while, when you feel the wind,
Let it be my hand on your face.
May the warmth of the sun be my lips touching yours.
Let the road remind you of me.
Just every once and again.
I wasn’t along for the ride.
The ride that changed my world.
The one that took all the sunshine.
The ride that took you home.
I would have ridden with you until the black top ran out, And the wind died, and the sun faded.
I hope you ride.
Ride like the wind.
Sun on your face
With a dream in your heart.
I want you to ride until you are free of life’s pains and burdens, And once in a while, Feel my hand on your cheek.
My lips on yours.
Know that you were sent blessings along the way.
Ride, ride until you are free like the wind.
Maybe someday on the road we will meet again.
Fly free my angel and ride.
“Where to Start”
Donna Bynum
Starting is always hard. I’m not sure of the hardest part. I wish I had a magic card. I don’t know where to start. Maybe at sunrise? Or Sunset? Maybe tomorrow? Or Monday? Either way, it will be great.
“Garden of Dreams”
Leeah Coley
Rising through the mud I see the light. A new adventure. A new beginning. a chance. I spread my petals accepting the nurture from the sun. My true colors are shown to the world. I have been reborn. a beautiful Lotus In this garden of dreams.
Maverick Kaden Irrera
“The Rise of Rudeness”
Connor Ferguson
People are never in the same mood every day. One day, they may feel happy, another day sad, and another day angry. However, people haven’t always been as angry or as joyful as they are now. In fact, many sources suggest that since the earliest studies on human behavior, standards of decency and happiness have drastically declined. Over time, rudeness has increased dramatically due to factors such as gaming, social media, and even human evolution.
One major contributor to this rise in rudeness is social media. While it may not have ignited the problem, it has certainly fueled the fire. People who primarily communicate online, rather than face-to-face, tend to express their opinions in a more aggressive and disrespectful manner than they would in person. Because social media places a screen between individuals, it emboldens rudeness—allowing people to say things they might never dare to say aloud. Many hurtful online remarks stem from frustration, as people take out their personal struggles on others. For some, making fun of others through hateful comments and harassment becomes a coping mechanism. additionally, the pursuit of likes, shares, and comments drives users to engage more deeply with posts, often leading to negative interactions. Some people even hate others out of pure jealousy. However, in the grand scheme of things, the number of likes someone receives is meaningless people hate simply because it brings them a sense of satisfaction, which is an unfortunate reality.
Hatred often seems to have no real justification. The modern era is vastly different from past centuries. In the 1800s and 1900s, there appeared to be a greater sense of respect in social interactions. Kind words were exchanged more frequently, and people could gather in groups without the level of hostility seen today. a great example of this can be found in conversations with older generations. Many elderly individuals exhibit kindness and courtesy, largely
due to the values instilled in them during their upbringing. Compared to younger generations, they tend to be more polite and respectful. both social norms and etiquette books once dictated acceptable behavior in public and private settings. For instance, interrupting someone mid-conversation was considered extremely rude. A person’s manners were not just a reflection of their character but also their upbringing and social status. I admire the elderly—they are truly remarkable individuals with kind hearts. Who could possibly dislike them?
The shift in societal behavior began in the 20th century. The counterculture movements of the 1960s and 1970s challenged traditional norms, altering perceptions of politeness. behaviors once considered rude became more widely accepted, and people began to embrace a newfound sense of independence. This shift led to an increase in people expressing themselves freely—whenever, wherever, and however they wanted. Despite this rise in rudeness, the 1970s and 1980s were still incredible decades filled with amazing music, restaurants, and venues. However, the desire for independence also influenced the gaming industry, a rapidly growing pastime.
Video gaming, once a peaceful activity, gradually became more competitive. as players pushed themselves to outperform their peers, the gaming world fostered an environment of increasing hostility. Online multiplayer games introduced high-pressure scenarios that triggered strong emotions such as stress and frustration. The desire to win created resentment between players, sometimes leading to outright hostility. High-stakes games even pressure players into making in-game decisions they might later regret. Rather than fostering toxic environments through trash talk, harassment, and cyberbullying, gaming communities could benefit from encouraging more respectful communication. While gaming can be an enjoyable experience, rude behavior
detracts from the fun. It’s ridiculous how aggressive some people become over a video game—at the end of the day, it’s just a game.
after examining the past and tracing the evolution of rudeness, I fully agree with the notion of “The Rise of Rudeness.” While society has changed over time, rudeness has reached an unprecedented level in today’s world. Some people simply refuse to treat others with kindness, regardless of the consequences. In an age where rudeness is more widespread than ever, achieving world peace would be a dream come true.
In the Flash of Night
Mikayla Strickland
I’m Bad with Deadlines
Jaylen Hoskins
Guitar
Emma Teixido
“Anxiety”
Cheyenne Kightlinger
I’m calling out from the depths of death. The Grim Reaper keeps saying, “Come on and be one of them.”
To be one of them amidst the bloody glow or to resist fighting against the impulse. In the stillness where he resides, death keeps becoming my reality. Where my soul relies entirely on fate to vanish or retaliate.
“Family”
Magal Martinez
At one time there was just me. Then, I met the love of my life who pushed me to be more than I ever thought I’d aspire to be. When the time was right, I went from girlfriend to wife, and our new little family began. My one became two and our two became one. It wasn’t always easy, but as long as we had each other We overcame obstacles one after another. Then, my oldest came into this world as we went from two to three, and I never knew how much more in life this would motivate me.
Late nights studying or working turned to morning very quick without warning
Life is a journey full of milestones and miles. I now see how quickly time can go by. Enjoy the little things
That life brings.
Smell the rain, feel the sunshine, open the curtains. about a decade later our three has become four, and one thing is for certain, There is nothing in the world I’d trade for this family of mine.
“She’s Selfless”
Emily Singh
Selfless -
“Having no concern for self.”
You would think it meant something bigger Like sacrificing yourself for someone. For her, it was just little acts.
She would say hi to everyone she knew in the hallway, Compliment that new shirt or hairstyle. Always willing to lend a helping hand, She would give you a snack out of her lunch, Or the money to buy one.
Honestly -
Dying for someone is a lot. She couldn’t do that.
She hopes those little acts will add up.
Maybe they would say nice things about her. Heart of gold, an angel on Earth, Sweet, Kind, Thoughtful,
She would give you the bigger piece, Or help you with your homework. If you needed someone to talk to, she’s all ears. She’ll tell you that she’s proud of you, and that she’s sorry, even though it might not be her fault. She’ll be praying for you that things will get better. Your secrets will be safe with her, The “she’s selfless” girl.
“The Forest Near Forres”
Ky Stott
Water flowing, wind blowing, men unknowing; In the trees and bush, they are hiding, Waiting, waiting, waiting for who?
a light, a light, a light appears. Lights up the creek, and the path comes near. Where, where, where do they go?
Oh wait, what’s this, what do they do?
The boy he does flee and the man he does bleed!
Oh why, oh why, oh why has this happened? They’ve run, they’ve gone, they’ve left him for dead. His blood has made the water turn red!
For what, for what, for what was the reason?
The men may be gone, and the body may rot, But the trees heard the squall, they witnessed it all In the forest, the forest, the forest near Forres.
“Forever”
Milagros Garcia
I wish these moments could last forever. No picture could capture the feeling of having you by my side. The feeling of holding you close.
I wish I never had to let go, but these moments are engraved in my memories. These moments will last forever.
The Curious Cow
Taylor Mattox
Antelope Conner Whitley
“The Girl with Eyes of Blue Fire”
Jenna Henley
The sharp wind, spurred up by the early winter day, spun through the streets of amsterdam and slapped against the girl. She welcomed the pin prickles of pain the wind brought, for it kept her alert, sensing rather than glancing up at the large brick buildings glowering on either side of the canal she walked beside and pinpointing those around her by the sounds of their footsteps on the cobblestone streets. She pulled her cap lower onto her face in hopes the wind would not steal it off her head, wrapped the straps of her backpack tighter around her shoulders, and pressed forward.
The girl’s ever moving gaze caught on a snip of mustard yellow at the street corner ahead of her. Keeping her head low, she raised her eyes to inspect the soldier standing there, the twisted black symbol on his armband and the glistening black gun at his belt showing he was one of the Nazi soldiers. A fury she knew well sparked within the girl, burning not the orange of a fresh flame but the deep, rich blue of a fire so hot it didn’t abide by the rules others had set for it.
The girl dug her fingers into the tough straps of her backpack and forced herself to turn her fury into determination. Her mental map of the streets, canals, and buildings rerouted itself, forming a path that avoided the soldier she was quickly approaching. She would still make it on time if nothing else delayed her. Her feet didn’t turn at the street the soldier stood at but kept straight for another half block before she ducked into an alley.
She quickened her pace to a run through the dark alley stinking of decomposition and mold, then spun onto another street, snapping back into the role of a schoolgirl leisurely heading home. The row of quaint, three-story homes around her had once been filled with life, flowers, and joy that emanated onto those passing, but now served as yet another reminder of all the Nazis had stolen from Holland. The girl did not allow her eyes to lift to the homes filled with memories.
She kept her attention on the nearly empty road around her, ever cautious, her heart ever aflame with the fire Hitler had set.
The girl swept onto another street, then ducked into an alley. This one was cleaner than the other she had ventured into that day, though she could feel the dampness on the bricks seducing the edges of her white linin blouse. She spun around a corner and slowed her steps as a door appeared in front of her. A rich glow emerged from the edges of the door, guiding her the last steps up to its polished surface. She raised her knuckles and gave three soft taps, followed by one with a force that echoed through her fist and into her heart.
The door slid open, and a hand beckoned her inside. The girl slipped into the room and stood at the fringes of the candlelit circle. She pulled her backpack off her shoulders and set it on the floor, kneeling beside it. The eyes of those in the room followed her motions as she unzipped a small pocket and stuck her fingers inside, undoing another pocket before drawing out a small pile of papers. The girl stood and held the papers out before her to the old woman who had let her in. The woman met her fiery blue eyes and gave a nod as she excepted the papers, the smell of fresh ink floating around the room.
“May they serve you well,” the girl whispered. Before anyone could respond, she had snapped her backpack up off the floor and was gone, slipping through the shadows of the alley and away to her next destination. There was hardly time for casualties when one had a war to win.
Navarre Beach
Laura Villeda
Deja Vu
Mikayla Strickland
This is where I will tell you about my fears. Sit down and listen If you want to hear.
It isn’t much, But if you want to know, I’m afraid of being forgotten. I’m afraid of being alone.
I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I’m scared of being judged. I know I seem like I’m alright, But their words are just too much.
It’s these fears that bring me down, But they go away whenever you’re around. There’s something I’d like you to hear. It’s because of you that today I’m here. You take away my fears.
Now, keep your seat.
I’m not done talking yet. I’m scared that all the memories. We have I’ll soon forget.
I’m scared I won’t find a tune for All my unwritten songs. I’m scared that when I sing them, No one will sing along.
I know I never told you this, but I’m scared that I’ll forget That stupid smile on your face. The one you always get.
“Fears”
Kaden Irrera
It’s these fears that bring me down, But they go away whenever you’re around. There’s something I’d like you to hear. It’s because of you that today I’m here. You take away my fears.
You take away my fears.
This is where I will tell you about my fears. It’s for the little ones that I always need you here.
I’m scared of spiders Clowns, mice, Mannequins, and dolls. It’s all those things. You protect me from them all.
It’s these fears that bring me down, But they go away whenever you’re around. There’s something I’d like you to hear. It’s because of you that today I’m here. You helped Me through My darkest times. because of you, My fears will leave me tonight.
“Learning Lessons”
Stephanie Everette
I am the black sheep of the lineage. That is the label provided. Always called the troubled child. Wasn’t I made this way? You taught me to lie. To keep the pain deep inside. I am the best keeper of secrets. all because of you. Thank you for your hellish gifts.
“My
Little One”
Karrah Flowers
To my little one, That is now long gone, You made me feel like I had won. From sleepless nights to stupid fights, It still felt like the most fun. although you are gone, Your new life has just begun. You are missed every day, My little one.
Forever Milagros Garcia
“A Grove of Neutrality”
Christian Kinnamon
As I wait in the vacant grove alone, I see a shadow in the field near Of what I could describe as a clone, and so, I begin to form a tear, As it reminded me of what I used to fear.
Back in my past, things went by fast. I could only remember what was dark. It made my mind irrationally racing. What I seek would make me embark On a path to heal what was left of my heart.
and so, I stand in this grove so empty and plain, And feel my pain begin to fade away, And with my feelings at their conclusion, I remember it all as a faint allusion.
“Burton Boys”
Linsey Burton
Oh, the joys of being a mom of boys. No greater love fills my heart with pure joy. Their laughter echoes through the house. Their energy is boundless like a playful mouse.
Rough and tumble, always on the go, but snuggles and hugs, they never say no. Their love is fierce, their spirits wild, Yet in their eyes, I see my child.
adventures aplenty, they seek and explore, With muddy hands and hearts that soar. They teach me patience; they teach me grace, In their presence, I find my happy place.
Here’s to being a mom of boys. A journey filled with endless joys. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. My precious boys, my little pearls.
Puppy Love
Andrea Twiss
Christmas Time
Honour Patrick
“From A Stay To A Stray”
Harmony Jeanniton
When I saw you, I felt safe. When I heard your voice, it steadied my pace. I feel alone in a place of ordinary people, but I never felt empty in a place of maniacs.
A maniac I will forever be
Because I never wanted to be behind that mask that everyone seeks. Normal isn’t what it seems, Everyone has something to hide. Life isn’t pretty because it’s full of lies. We all have that maniac inside, but only the sacred ones hide. The typical monster the world paints us to be, but all I want to do is be me.
Yeah, they seem to be playing the game well, With the costumes they wear. I bet they want to take it off and show what they bear. It’s killing you inside because you’re going to rot, Just go ahead and take that mask off. Who cares what they say,
The maniac always stays. Yes, you might be a stray, But at least you will find a place to stay.
“Two, Upstream”
Kayla Hefner
Two in flight, dance as they soar, Land down low, where currents roar. against the moon’s tide, steadfast they ride, Waves that are relentless, but love is the guide.
Feathers plucked by thorns, still they forge ahead, Feathers ruffled, against challenges that spread. Their dreams aloft, like wings unfurled, Together as one, they face the world.
Though storms strike and thunder blow, The stronger they emerge, hearts aglow. Each current faced, each dam met, Their spark gives light, they never forget.
Against the current, they dance and sway, Their journey, marked by night and day. Through valleys deep and mountains high, They chase the sun across the sky.
In mirrored waters, reflections gleam, Their souls entwined, an infinite dream. With their love, they brave the stream, Love that’s infinite as the stars who gleam.
No temptation can tear apart, The love that is in each little duck’s heart. Swimming as one, forever true, Two ducks, one love, forever new.
Let their story inspire thee, Love sails, prevails, through stormy sea. With faith strong and hearts entwined, Together, love’s pure essence you’ll find.
“Gone Fishing”
Brandon Wrenn
The morning I had long awaited had finally arrived—my first time fishing in saltwater. As we pulled up to the boat ramp, the sun was just beginning to rise, painting the horizon with warm hues of gold and pink. Excitement coursed through me, but a hint of nervousness lingered. This wasn’t just any fishing trip—it was the maiden voyage of my new boat, a vessel I had envisioned as a fish-catching machine.
For weeks, I had planned this moment. Owning a boat was new to me, and I wanted everything to be perfect. The night before, I double-checked every detail—ensuring all the safety gear was onboard, testing the boat and trolling motor, and making sure my rods and reels were spooled with the right line, ready for whatever the water had in store. I had spent hours researching prime fishing spots, marking them carefully on my GPS, hoping they would lead to success.
That morning, as I arrived at the ramp, I was greeted by the sight of a few boats already drifting on the water, their silhouettes framed against the glowing sunrise. I secured the last of my gear, placed the plugs, and prepared to launch. My buddy backed me in, and as the engine rumbled to life, I let it idle, savoring the anticipation. The moment he climbed aboard, we glided across the glassy surface, the morning sun reflecting like scattered diamonds. The cool wind hit our faces, carrying the salty air, as we headed toward our first fishing spot, eager to see what the day would bring.
When we finally reached the first stop, neither of us wasted a second. We cast our lines, the ripples expanding across
the quiet water, and waited. The beauty of the scene around us was almost enough—golden reeds swayed along the shoreline, cattails stood tall, and a thin veil of mist curled off the water’s surface as the sun rose behind the trees. It was a moment of pure peace, a reminder that some days, the experience itself is worth more than the catch.
Then, the first strike hit. The sudden pull sent a rush of adrenaline through me. Reeling in, I felt the fight of the fish— strong, determined. When we finally landed it, we could hardly believe our luck. A keeper-speckled trout. Just like that, the boat earned its title as a true fishing vessel. Energized, we cast out again, ready for whatever came next.
The day unfolded with its share of lessons. We learned what to look for—and, more importantly, what to avoid. Patience was tested during the lulls, but every moment on the water felt like a reward. The sunrise, the ever-changing views, and the simple joy of being there meant more than the handful of fish we caught.
Looking back, that day was more than just a fishing trip; it was the start of something bigger. Since then, I’ve made more trips, gained confidence, and grown into a better saltwater fisherman. And with each new journey, I hope to share the experience with more friends and family.
Because in the end, chasing what you love—whether it’s a boat, an adventure, or a dream—is always worth it.
One day, all is peaceful, The next, tragedy strikes. From the birth of new life
To the quiet stillness of loss. They say April showers bring May flowers, Yet autumn arrives, and everything fades. Nature is ever-changing— Twelve months, 365 days a year. One moment, the sun scorches, The next, the air turns cold. The waters may rest in calm, Then rise in fury, leaving ruin behind. Animals, too, shape this world, balancing the cycle of life. From the seen to the unseen, Every creature plays its part.
Nature holds breathtaking beauty— Towering mountains, endless canyons, Golden fields and endless skies. Everywhere I go, I pause to take it in— Sunsets, painting the sky in warm embrace,
“The Ways of Nature”
Emma Mercer
Reminding me that tomorrow always comes. And sunrises, whispering of fresh beginnings. all things in nature are connected, In both beauty and consequence. Summer brings warmth, golden tans, Cool waters, and fireworks at night. Fall and winter gift us crisp air, Fireside laughter, and quiet snowfall.
From the blazing sun to the frosted earth, Each season has its trials, Yet each holds something to cherish. In summer, I hear children’s laughter in the park, Waves rolling onto the shore, Late-night fireworks lighting the sky. In winter, the crackle of a fire, The hush of falling snow, and the joy of family gathered close. Too often, people forget nature’s beauty, Focusing only on its storms. but no matter the changes, No matter the hardships, Nature will always be beautiful.
Beautiful Valley with Healthy Ecosystem
Ifeanyi Ibezim
Swans Over the Marsh
Brandon Wrenn
“Silent Battles”
Aniyah Roberts
In the quiet spaces of my mind, a storm rages fiercely and unspoken. Behind smiles and soft laughter, lies a battlefield unseen, yet broken. Each day is a test of silent strengths.
I’m not perfect for I go through silent battles. To see my great-grandparents, I’d go to ranges of lengths. I must fight through the shackles and the pain. Enduring the silence, I break free from the chain and The thoughts that constantly run through my mind. I was scared and, in my head, it was dark with no light. “Will I ever get through this?” I constantly asked.
Then I saw this bright light and a figure appeared. It was God; he was right here in front of me.
He said, “My child, though the road is long and tough in your heart you hold enough. With Faith and Strength, you’ll see it through for every storm there’s a sky of blue.”
I kneel to pray with silence profoundly awaiting guidance where answers are found. In the quiet, signs of hope appear. God’s gentle whispers calm my fear.
Stars above shine bright and clear. These are the signs God shows. He is here. However, through the darkness, I find my way; strength emerges from the disarray. In silent battles, my heart’s unafraid; I conquer fears my spirit is not dismayed. For in each trial and every tear that is shed, a resilience is bloomed where courage is fed. With every dawn, a new path is laid; I rise unbroken, unafraid.
A Piece from the Editor
“As It Closes”
Tammy Summerlin
Goodbye is not a single word, but a whisper on the wind, a thread unraveling slowly, a door that never slams—only creaks as it closes.
It lingers in the spaces we leave behind, in the echoes of footsteps fading, in the weight of unsaid words that drift between what was and what will be.
Closure does not come with a grand farewell, but in the quiet acceptance that some stories end mid-sentence, that some hands must be let go, so they may find their own way.
We fold memories like letters never sent, tuck them into the corners of our hearts, not to forget, but to carry them gently, without the ache of holding too tight.
And as the sun sets on what once was, we turn toward the horizon, knowing that every ending is only making room for something new.
Life is Funny & Do I Stay
Andrew Joyner
WILSON COMMUNITY COLLEGE FOUNDATION, INC.
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Wilson Community College Foundation
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