LORNA Ryan Nichols The house, it seemed, had made a clearing in the woods for itselfto occupy; it sat in the middle of a nearly-spherical orb of empty space bounded by vegetation that only dared to venture within a dozen yards of its dreary, darkened walls. Massive oak trees bent their limbs over... Show moreLORNA Ryan Nichols The house, it seemed, had made a clearing in the woods for itselfto occupy; it sat in the middle of a nearly-spherical orb of empty space bounded by vegetation that only dared to venture within a dozen yards of its dreary, darkened walls. Massive oak trees bent their limbs over its failing roof, as ifby command, to form a patchwork canopy that held back all but the brightest ofdaylight. Wildlife also seemed terrified by some specific odor or aura it emanated.Folks who ventured into the depths ofthe forest experienced a peculiar response; they began to worry that they had lost their way, that their destination must certainly lie in the opposite direction. Over time, as a result ofthis severe isolation, the house was entirely forgotten and lost.Even as the houses near the edge ofthe forest multiplied and the forest itselfwas gradually reduced to a fraction of its original acreage, the house and its clearing remained untouchedEventually an entire 124 metropolis had been built. The forest was soon bordered by avenues and called a park. No one was aware ofits existence within the city. No one, that is, except its occupants. Father never lets the sunlight touch. Lorna was remembering what Amelia had said before she left for the city again. Haven't You noticed that Father never lets the sunlight touch his face? It wasn’t precisely true. She had memo- ries. The three ofthem, floating on their backs in the lake. There was sunlight then, and Father had smiled. They were very little then,just girls. But it was true now. How had she not realized? Amelia always knew, not like Lorna. Lorna had feelings, suspicions, but they were always vague and she never knew how to speak them until Amelia did for her. Lorna hated it.The slow, close-lipped smile Amelia would give. Her own importance. So what ifit was true? It was also true that they never saw him touch things anymore.Never Show less
:a couple chewy treats. He purred and rubbed his nose against her pant leg He decided then that he didn’t hate her for intruding upon his routines; in fact, he rather liked having her around. A couple months after that first night, Allison had bought a small house in a quiet neighborhood. Angus... Show more:a couple chewy treats. He purred and rubbed his nose against her pant leg He decided then that he didn’t hate her for intruding upon his routines; in fact, he rather liked having her around. A couple months after that first night, Allison had bought a small house in a quiet neighborhood. Angus spent his days in the spare bedroom upstairs. The room had large windows with flat, shelf-like sills that he could stretch out on and nap while warm sunlight wrapped around him like a blanket. Vanessa often spent the night with Allison. She became a regular pan of their new routine, which involved a bit less time spent cuddling on the couch. Angus slowly realized that Vanessa didn‘t pay as much attention to him as she had that first night. This didn't bother him much. Allison‘s affection was all he really wanted, but he couldn‘t help wondering if Vanessa’s earlier kindness was genuine or just an attempt to win his approval. At night, the two women would shut their bedroom door, leaving him to sleep on the couch or in the window sill. Even this he took without complain. One day Allison picked him up and held his face close to her own as she lay on her back in bed. ‘She was smiling and animated as she snuggled his nose with hers. “Guess what,buddy?” she asked. “Vanessa‘s gonna come live with us!" She squeezed him close and squealed out a rambling sentence about how happy she was and how great everything was going to be. He had never seen her act this way and wasn't really sure what type of response she was hoping for. He purred lightly. “Vanessa is a painter, Angus. She needs a bright place to work and can't have any kitties getting into ‘her tools." It was the morning after Vanessa had moved in and Allison was explaining the closed spare bedroom door to a distraught Angus. “\Vhy don’t you go to the couch?” The weels that followed were regrettable. While Allison was away at work, Vanessa would lock herself in her new studio Dejected, Angus would paw at the door, begging to lay in the sun. After a few minutes of this, Vanessa would emerge, upset, from the contested territon and shoo him away. Eventually, she tried to pick him up. He hissed and scratched defensively at her arms. She went to a closet and armored herself with a winter coat and gloves. She finally managed to grab ahold of him after chasing him around the house for ten minutes. He soon found himself locked in the bathroom. He waited for hours, curled up on the cold tile floor, until he heard Allison open the bathroom door. He rushed to her, pleading forjustice and purring against her calves. She picked him up, and as she turned they both saw Vanessa holding out her arms, which were covered in band-aids. “Look what your cat did while you were gone," Vanessa said. Angus waited eagerly for what he assumed would be Allison’s valiance defense of his actions. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll have to think of some- thing. ] guess for now we'lljust have to keep him in the bathroom while I’m at wor .” Angus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. \Vhy wasn’t she sticking up for him? It was ohm"- ous he had acted in self defense, wasn’t it? Didn’t she want to hear his version of the events? For the first time in their friendship, he hissed at Allison. He Hailed in her arms until she dropped him. He ran and hid under the couch, feeling betrayed and alone. In the weeks that followed, he acquainted 67 Show less
Sponge —Howewer appealing and self-indulgent— is that every once in awhile—and it all depentt on the \igilance of the one cleaning how oftenia sponge gets swung out. .. But I sit here, and I watch, and exeryone tears each other apart, and human cruelty, and the simple miseries of the day that I... Show moreSponge —Howewer appealing and self-indulgent— is that every once in awhile—and it all depentt on the \igilance of the one cleaning how oftenia sponge gets swung out. .. But I sit here, and I watch, and exeryone tears each other apart, and human cruelty, and the simple miseries of the day that I can't escape and that I can’t wring out... Eventually they get to me. I wish I could say there was a point to it all. But I can’t see one. All I see '5 that you lose friends no matter what you do, and no matter how little you allow yourself to express, and sometimes men those you didn’t really get to know can hurt you. 134 Show less
THE GIFT HORSE Bryce Kadrlik 144 we once had a discussion on the nature of receiving gills and how when handed the reins to a stallion i would push it away and mumble about the idea of “deserving” and once i talked so much about how i deserved nothing that i wanted and little that i had that i... Show moreTHE GIFT HORSE Bryce Kadrlik 144 we once had a discussion on the nature of receiving gills and how when handed the reins to a stallion i would push it away and mumble about the idea of “deserving” and once i talked so much about how i deserved nothing that i wanted and little that i had that i left the imprints of teeth on my wrist. and now you may wonder why i seem so afraid but darling, you are a gift. Show less
RAINY DAY TEA CUPS Eve Taft My father and I don’t notice when clothes wear out Relying on my mother to remind us of the team And bring us out of our worlds for a moment To mutter “Huh,” at the stains and rips Rainy days find us in the kitchen My father and l, watching lightning \Ve brew strong tea... Show moreRAINY DAY TEA CUPS Eve Taft My father and I don’t notice when clothes wear out Relying on my mother to remind us of the team And bring us out of our worlds for a moment To mutter “Huh,” at the stains and rips Rainy days find us in the kitchen My father and l, watching lightning \Ve brew strong tea and steep the hours away Talking about what kind of apples are best Irish tempers and stories We have so many times cause all kinds of trouble My father and I, righteous rebels \Vith eyes full of mischief and laughter Artists, they say, with a sigh But I think a better word is “world-seer" lost in our heads, talking aloud and forgetting the little things we are seeing and crafting and thinking Apple munching, tea drinking, my father and l Show less
ENTER IN (OR HOW TO FIND YOURSELF) Leslie Hutchinson start by slipping inside, spines open m'de gaze into mirror‘s eyes your fingers know these footsteps and let the fauna guide you; tracks of yours long forgotten traverse the primordial path these are the spaces that know you best you’ve been... Show moreENTER IN (OR HOW TO FIND YOURSELF) Leslie Hutchinson start by slipping inside, spines open m'de gaze into mirror‘s eyes your fingers know these footsteps and let the fauna guide you; tracks of yours long forgotten traverse the primordial path these are the spaces that know you best you’ve been walking your whole life, stories piled to the roof, take careful steps across unseen stones Shoelaces you‘ve left untied where a riverbed breeds demons you draw if you spend enough time here, down you mightjust manage to find yourself (just let them see you) enter expanse after expanse to rediscover homes you left behind here barren, it greets you like it‘s just been lost not abandoned dust off bookshelves filled with volumes you wrote crimson words and periwinkle Show less
“A noble cause I’m sure. Tell ya what, you work for six months and whatever you make you take. I split your profits 70-30." “You get 70 percent?" "Fine. 60-40. These suits don’t iron them- selves." He pulled at his lapel. “Deal.” In order to distinguish me for the clientele, he took me up into a... Show more“A noble cause I’m sure. Tell ya what, you work for six months and whatever you make you take. I split your profits 70-30." “You get 70 percent?" "Fine. 60-40. These suits don’t iron them- selves." He pulled at his lapel. “Deal.” In order to distinguish me for the clientele, he took me up into a nearby apartment complex and had a large bearded man who smelled like garlic, tattoo a rainbow flag around my right upper arm. I liked it. Finally free to be myself. Exactly six months to the day, I approached Max and told him I was done. A few fights with the other employees over who was taking which clients had resulted in black eyes, but that was the worst of it. My clients were usually more polite than the ones the other girls had. I was privy to many oftheir horror stories, but blocked them out. Most ofthe time I went along to fancy dinner parties or five-star hotels before anything happened. My women were never too pushy. I was beautiful, they always told me. Not once was I scared for my well-being when with a client. During my stint I had averaged two or three clients a day, mostly event escorting, at a rate ofone-hundred dollars an hour, not including generous bonuses, and in total I made 90,000 dollars. Max kept our deal and I walked away with 27,000 dollars. \Vay more than enough to get us by. In the middle ofthe night I took a taxi to my parents’ house hoping to sneak my mom and brother out after my father had fallen asleep. The front door was unlocked as it had been my entire childhood, but the house was not as I had expected. I could hear my parent’s voices arguing in the dis- 104 tance. My brother, in his Spongebob pajamas, was passed out on the couch in front of the television. I shook him awake and clamped my hand over his mouth when he started to gasp. I whispered my plan and after he went to his room to grab any- thing he needed, I followed the familiar sounds of abuse down the hall to my father's study. I opened the door and saw my father stand- ing over mother who was tied to a desk chair. her mouth covered by tape. Unintelligible sounds were all that came from her struggle. but I could see black fear shooting out her eyes. The man who had once held my bike when I took off my training wheels and helped me build a birdhouse in the backyard was nowhere to be found in the body standing before to me. In that moment I knew I had to kill him in had any chance ofsaving my mother. I wanted it to be slow. As much as my mother feared him for all of those years I wanted him to fear me now. Now was my chance to put to use all of those self-defense lessons he had paid for when he still worried about other men and boys taking advantage of me. “Back away from her." Both oftheir heads whipped to my direction, and a grin spread across my father's face. “\Vhat could you possibly do to stop me, you little faggot?” I debated my next move as I watched the bruises start to bloom on her arms and the blood trickle down her face from just above her eyebrow. He stepped back and the sigh of relief from my mother was audible even through the tape. “I said, what are you going to do?" He stum- bled toward me, clearly intoxicated and my mother Show less
any words. You put your hand on your head to stop the list ofthings you should be doing from scatter- ing around in your brain like the wind tossed trash in the parking lot. You should be buying supplies. Taping windows. Securing whatever needs to be secured. Maybe your sister will take your... Show moreany words. You put your hand on your head to stop the list ofthings you should be doing from scatter- ing around in your brain like the wind tossed trash in the parking lot. You should be buying supplies. Taping windows. Securing whatever needs to be secured. Maybe your sister will take your daughters shopping for supplies. They love to go shopping. But what kind ofa parent would you be ifyou weren’t at home with your family on the eve ofthe hurricane? You look at the new guy standing at the end ofthe aisle with his arms folded smiling at you. \Vaiting patiently for your reply. You look at him. You look at him and picture him under a fallen lamp post clinging to life. How tragic it would be ifa palm tree fell on his car on the way home. But then you realize that palm trees bend but don’t break. “'hat if he wanted you to listen to one more ofhis stories about ice fishing or other adventures? One beer. That‘s it. One beer. One hurricane. “'ell, they say you only live once. You look at your cart filled with supplies. You look at him. You look at the people around you chatting and shopping, and contemplate how to survive a hurricane. 118 Show less
ly returned to the situation at hand. “That was a monkey.” I gargled, “Now what’s the message you need to send and to whom.” I used “to whom" as if to impress her with my knowledge of stuff. I often am impressive. I once ran a mile in a mere 7 mins and 48 secs, and someone remarked it as, “A... Show morely returned to the situation at hand. “That was a monkey.” I gargled, “Now what’s the message you need to send and to whom.” I used “to whom" as if to impress her with my knowledge of stuff. I often am impressive. I once ran a mile in a mere 7 mins and 48 secs, and someone remarked it as, “A little below average.” I thought ofbringing it up to this woman, but didn't want to impress her beyond the point of herjust loving me for my personality. She’s responding to my question as I’m thinking about how impressive I truly am. I realize that she’djust finished her sentence and I didn’t hear a word of it. “what?” I replied. She then broke into a dead sprint of words that I couldn’t even comprehend, halfway through I got bored and started staring at a hole in the wall of my office. Ijust stared and stared, thinking ofthe possible origin ofthis particular hole. Then it hit me. It hit me like a freight train carrying 600 carts behind it, every single one of them filled with thousands upon thousands of unwatched DVD copies ofGrown Ups 2. It was the very same hole that was created when I was swinging at a pinata version of Raphael from The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I was in a blind rage ofemotion and tears after seeing the trailer to the new Michael Bay version ofTMNT. One ofthe swings knocked Raphael about the room, another really rattled his cage, spraying candy everywhere, and now the “coupe de grash”. An earth shattering blow from my trusty hammer I got from Hardware Hank‘s. But like a great white shark 1 attack with my eyes closed. I swung the hammer right into the wall. One of my greatest achievements, topped only by my previously mentioned mile run. Ijust then realized that this woman could’ve been waiting for me to respond to her for 5 mins, 2 hours, or even 110 3 weeks. I respond smooth, “\Vonce mo pwease." While gently caressing what I thought was her shoulder, but was actually my own. She then huffed out, “Happy Birthday Spencer!" Show less
getting up to pour himself a glass not really caring what kind of wine it was. Just as Martin had sat back dowrt and put the glass to his lips, he heard a giggle of female laughter from the hallway. He froze, glass still touching his lips as he held his breath instinctively to hear better. Then a... Show moregetting up to pour himself a glass not really caring what kind of wine it was. Just as Martin had sat back dowrt and put the glass to his lips, he heard a giggle of female laughter from the hallway. He froze, glass still touching his lips as he held his breath instinctively to hear better. Then a man’s laugh cried out, this time much closer to the dressing room. Martin’s adrenaline surged at the risk of discovery, quickly turning off the lamp at his side with as little sound as possible. Footsteps were approaching now, Martin could feel his palms dampen. A thousand curses went through Martin’s mind as he felt his face redden in asphyxiation. He focused on something other than his doom. A wom- an and a man, obviously well acquainted; wander- ing guests perhaps? To his relief, the footsteps passed beyond the door to the dressing room and stopped to open the door to the boudoir of Madame Relina. The Boudoir? What is this invasive curiosity? Who would have such gall as to trespass into their hostess- es private dressing room? I’m going to find out soon enough Martin thought, releasing a silent breath trying not to audibly gasp for air. Martin downed the glass of wine as it had become burdensome by this time. Curiosity and knowledge the true \ices of his life. He felt his way across the dressing room to put a bat’s ear to the wall in the hopes of overhearing the intruders’ conversation from the comfortable darkness of his cave. He couldn‘t hear anything,just the ruffling of clothing. Inspecting Madame Relina‘s wardrobe? How superficial, Martin assumed. His assumptions were quickly dispelled with the playful female giggle and a masculine groan of pleasure that followed. Then the two grew louder in enthusiasm for their bold endeavors causing Martin's interest to swell and peak in the solitary darkness. For long minutes Martin could hear their heavy breathing, the sound of bodies meeting in something more vigorous and carnal than love making. He imagined the scene in vicariously with a sort of echolocation. The heat of their breath, the softness of another’s kiss and a playful bite of a moistened lip. Beaded sweat shared between the two bodies tangled in passion. Eventually the two unidentified deviants let out a mutual moan of climactic bliss, Martin could almost feel them tremble-in-gasm as hejoined them in the shuddering silence of his own conclusion. Martin heard lazily pronounced words muffled beyond the wall as he kerchiefed himself without a measurable amount of perverted shame; obviously not the first time he had been so intimately close to encounters of this nature. Lust quenched was not equal to curiosities confirmed. I have to know who... Martin decided, stepping silently over to the door of the room and cracking it open ever so slowly. He waited, watching the lamp lit hallway for when the couple would exit Madame Relina’s boudoir. Mar- tin‘s second hand adventure was almost as exciting as the anticipation of discovering their identities. He held his breath as the door opened casually, a man stepped out and closed the door behind him, his face remained hidden by the dim light until he passed directly by Martin’s field of \ision. Martin strangled a gasp that rose from the depth of his lungs. Monsieur Boisette? Obviously his wife was not the recipient of his affection moments ago, I had seen her leave the party with my own eyes, Martin quickly concluded in his breathless condi— tion. A few minutes passed before Martin became 63 Show less
finished his dialog with a deep laugh. He raised the axe and, after a barely perceptible nod from the young woman, brought it down on the prosthetic leg. A shower of fake blood sprayed the room. As the woman screamed in agony, someone slowly closed the bathroom door from out of sight. The band... Show morefinished his dialog with a deep laugh. He raised the axe and, after a barely perceptible nod from the young woman, brought it down on the prosthetic leg. A shower of fake blood sprayed the room. As the woman screamed in agony, someone slowly closed the bathroom door from out of sight. The band hesitated for a moment before continuing down the corridor. They couldn‘t quite name what troubled them. \Veren’t the gore effects and costumes just as good as any other haunted house they had enjoyed? Hadn‘t the acting been just as passable, if not better than most? The mystery of their discontent was quickly solved as they started noticing a certain repetition in the scenarios each room housed. The victims were always guilty of some perceived sin, their demonic tormentors always assured them that they had angered God, and their punishment was al- ways to be eternal. Alcoholism, adultery, homosex- uality, drug use, blasphemy, feminism, and a host ofother “abominations” were all eviscerated in the same hyper-gory manner. Most rational folks would see this as Grace Baptist Church’s poor attempt at proselytizing, but then again, rationality was never Death’s Bludgeon‘s claim to fame. “Who the fuck is this ‘God’ guy? And why is he such a shithead?" Dave asked while they walked from one horrific display to the next. “He really does hate us all," said Rex, in deep contemplation. “i thought he was supposed to be all... loving and shit,“ Axel added. “My Uncle Ronnie’s an alcoholic. It’s not his fault, man, that shit’s a disease. " Garry was visibly upset as he reimagined the events ofthe “drunkenness” room occuring to his beloved relative. “I fucking love Uncle Ronnie,” he added with a whimper. It went on like that, their original excitement souring into a steadily increasing sense ofdread as each screaming new victim reminded them of someone else they knew and loved. This alone would have been discouraging, but they decided to trudge on, enduring each new terror in turn. Fear for another’s safety is miserable, but manage- able. They were drinkers, not alcoholics, and they weren’t guilty ofthe vices depicted in the other rooms. Still, each step towards every subsequent rooms was taken with reluctance, as if the pervasive threat of an imminent, ultimate horror was a bear trap waiting beneath the floorboards. Soon, that horror was made manifest. A large basement chamber had been converted into a small, black nightclub. Like the other rooms, the congregation ofGrace Baptist Church of Dalmuth Township had done an impeccablejob. Their attention to detail was astonishing. There were worn out speakers plastered with stickers from various metal bands, beer stains on the cement floor, strobes lights and fog machines, and four letter words spray painted on the walls. As they hesitantly entered the room, the member ofDeath’s Bludgeon were terrified to find themselves feeling comfortable. “Oh, fuck... No, they can’t.” “This is not good, dudes.” As their imaginations raced ahead, they tried to pull them back with denial and knowingly futile pleading. Their worst fantasies couldn‘t prepare them for what happened next. The room went com- pletely dark for a moment. \‘Vhen light returned, in the form of four carefully aimed spotlights, actors had taken the stage dressed as a metal band. 19 Show less
ACCEPTANCE Hannah Schmit I am afraid. Afraid the words I write and say will be taken the wrong way And I won't be able to recover the image instilled by my mother. I am tired. Tired of feeling as though the things I are just to throw Away and disregard because the body I inhabit gives you pause.... Show moreACCEPTANCE Hannah Schmit I am afraid. Afraid the words I write and say will be taken the wrong way And I won't be able to recover the image instilled by my mother. I am tired. Tired of feeling as though the things I are just to throw Away and disregard because the body I inhabit gives you pause. I am caught. Caught in a pool of sweat and sighs brought about societies lies That choke and snare without relief regardless of your own belief. I am overlooked. Overlooked lx-eause my body shows something that society “knows” To be demure and gentle, calm and tame to be like others be the same. But I am not the same. I am brave. Bran: because I ha“? words and a mice that were given a choice To be shared or to be kept while my fore-bearers slept I am awake. Awake because I see your reaction to the mere refraction Of my soul as I speak louder with each passing week. I am freed. Freed because I learned to swim by listening to the calls within To stay afloat despite my fears and release the others from their tears I am seen. Seen because I let my show something society can new-r know As my individuality and hope from in me shine, I am me I am mine. 149 Show less
Is it American to be the \ictim? To place blame on the worid and none on the self? Is it American to be sensationalized? To find conflict in exery miniscule moment of our lives? Is it American to donate to charity? To organizations that use 99% of their earnings to pay for upkeep and apply 1% to... Show moreIs it American to be the \ictim? To place blame on the worid and none on the self? Is it American to be sensationalized? To find conflict in exery miniscule moment of our lives? Is it American to donate to charity? To organizations that use 99% of their earnings to pay for upkeep and apply 1% to the true cause? 15 it American to tolerate what we are told to? To let media decide bombings in Europe are outrageous when genocides in Africa are swept under the rug? Is it American to take out a loan? To happily apply to be enslaved by a credit score? Is it American to buy the latest iPhone? To follow the train of tech- no—dependent lemmings into an age of laziness and infertility? Is it American to cling to the disabled and dying for self-serving purposes? To put “I am one of the good apples” on a resume? Is it American to be fear driven? To watch the 10 O‘clock news five nights a week? 74 Is it American to take a yoga class? To tri\ialize a way of life as if it were a fad? Is it American to destroy the environment? To double back and ‘presene” it once it has already been tainted? Is it American to wear makeup and pushup bras? To watch America’s Next Top Model and shame your- self with a diet? Is it American to be offended? To heighten personal sensitivities to such a level that meaningful dis— course is impossible? Is it American to be recreationally racist? To ignorantly perpetuate hatred for the purposes of bar jokes? Is it American to vacation in other countries? To mane] at how “cul- tured” other places can be? Is it American to compete? To feed the ever hungering superiority complex? Is it American to watch pomegra- phy? To distort the expectations of the human body and sex? Fake tits Show less
FLYING NEMO Michael Torreson Before we had made it through the front door of the apartment complex, Nemo had already skipped to the front of the group and pointed his pudgy finger toward the second story. “Guys, I wanna go up on that roof!" “Nemo, that‘s not even a roof." It was really more of an... Show moreFLYING NEMO Michael Torreson Before we had made it through the front door of the apartment complex, Nemo had already skipped to the front of the group and pointed his pudgy finger toward the second story. “Guys, I wanna go up on that roof!" “Nemo, that‘s not even a roof." It was really more of an overhang that sloped over the front door of the building. We had been to this apartment complex hundreds of times before. The five of us, including Nemo, lived only three blocks away, and some friends of ours lived on the second floor. September was quickly turning into October, so we went over there to grill out and to enjoy the remain- ing hints of summer before another cold, brisk fall. “Yeah, but I wanna go up there! Look, it’s super easy to get up there. Wejust need to open that window and bam!" He wasn’t going to be stopped. We thought about telling him he couldn‘t go up ; there, but we knew that would make him want to get up there even more. He always said we were“chal- lenging” him when we told him not to do some- thing. All of us were friends in high school, but we almost never got to see Nemo outside of classes and lunchtime. \Vhen we met up in the parking lot on Fridays to get in one of our cars to go play basket- ball at Donahue Park or to get taco boxes to split, he always had to trudge to his own car afterwards saying he would see us on Monday. We had all remained friends when we left for college, and during our senior year we decided we all wanted to live together. David, Nick, Taylor, and I found the perfect house for five people, and Nemo was finally going to start going to school after work- ing at different gas stations and fast food joints for three years after we graduated. At first, his parents told him that he was going to have to commute from our hometown every day, which was an hour away from campus. Nemo’s mother said she didn’t want to see her baby leave. After what Nemo said 55 Show less
us had noticed the silence and began turning her head slowly to watch us all out ofthe corner of her eye.Suddenly, the red~dressed woman‘s eyes were round and white around the iris. She began laugh- ing slowly. sardonically. Then she began laughing harder and louder as she slowly leaned in closer... Show moreus had noticed the silence and began turning her head slowly to watch us all out ofthe corner of her eye.Suddenly, the red~dressed woman‘s eyes were round and white around the iris. She began laugh- ing slowly. sardonically. Then she began laughing harder and louder as she slowly leaned in closer to— ward Mark. His eyes began to move away when she moved in, but they turned back toward her as she continued to bend toward him. When she realized everyone in the restaurant’s attention was on her, she snapped back into standing straight but turned toward me. Eli tried to speak again, but she pushed her long, polished finger to the tip ofhis nose, shushing him. \Vith her right arm still extended, she used her left hand to point at me. I was too scared to make direct eye contact with her,so I lookedjust offto the side ofher face. Even in the dim light from the globe shaped lanterns hanging from the ceilings and the candles on the tables, her gold earrings glistened ofl'ofher neck. “You. Yes. You. Nope not you, sweetie. I” were talking to you, why would I be standing over here? Yeah there you go. Turn around.“ The wom- an at the other table turned red in the face as she slowly turned back toward her table. The woman at our table, who still stood looking at me, was now a bit easier but intrigued in her eyes. “What do you want to drink?" she asked. “ ust water." She smiled. “I’m not a waitress. I’m trying to buy you something to drink,” “I’ll take a—“ as soon as Mark began speak- ing, the woman bent over,cocked back her open hand, and slapped him. He sat in shock for a sec- ond as the blood rushed to his cheek. He sat there shaking. I thought he was going to shout, but the woman sent Eli and him away with a couple flicks 140 ofher wrist.The two went to the bar to try to get an ice pack. She took Eli’s chair, which was next to me, and she pulled the chair closer to me. She propped her chin up by putting her elbows on the white table- cloth. “\Vhy do you look so scared?" she asked. “Are you afraid of women? You're as white as a ghost.“ I thought she was making ajest about the makeup I still had on, but then I noticed that I was making the table quake as my legs shook underneath. I backed away. “No, most women just don't talk to men like me.” I dabbed the butt ofmy cigarette into the ashtray. I thought I didn't have a chance with the woman, but knowing that almost made finding conversation much easier. The flame of the candle was tittering, but l knew it wouldn‘t last long. She smiled for the first time. “I‘m actually not that mean. Or crazy. Your friend was being a tool, though. I thought I would mess with his ego a little. Just a weird joke." \Ve looked back at the bar, and we looked on as Mark applied the blue cold pack to his red cheek. Eli told me later that it was the most patriotic thing he had ever seen. “You haven‘t asked for my name yet". I didn‘t know what I had to offer. I looked down at the flower pinned to my chest, which was actually a water gun. “But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Let me ask you, clown man, do you ever take yourselfso seriously like your army friend?" I hutTed a bit and smiled. I looked into her eyes. They were softer now. “I don't have much to be serious about. He used to be more relaxed, Mark was,but I think art school broke him in a weird way.” She looked back at Mark again. “There are Show less
SHADOWS Monica DeRee l’m just a shadow that follows you at night. Bound together by the light. Lost in the shadows, my fellow kind. While you walk and search your mind. Always in the background, but rarely seen. A secret following, a reflective being. One day I’ll wave, so you might see the sign.... Show moreSHADOWS Monica DeRee l’m just a shadow that follows you at night. Bound together by the light. Lost in the shadows, my fellow kind. While you walk and search your mind. Always in the background, but rarely seen. A secret following, a reflective being. One day I’ll wave, so you might see the sign. I’m not you, I’m the one you left behind. 25 Show less
