was hours of yelling and crying, his parents and he finally came to the agreement that he could live with us on the condition that he came home every Mon- day, called home every Friday and Saturday night at 9 pm, and ate only the Persian dishes his mother would cook for him to bring back to our... Show morewas hours of yelling and crying, his parents and he finally came to the agreement that he could live with us on the condition that he came home every Mon- day, called home every Friday and Saturday night at 9 pm, and ate only the Persian dishes his mother would cook for him to bring back to our house when he went back on Mondays. Nemo didn’t think things through much, but he did well in school because his parents sat at the table with him whenever he got home to make sure that he completed every homework assignment. If he had a paper due in two weeks, his parents forced him to finish it a week prior to the due date. His parents constantly reminded him that they did not escape from the violence in Iran for him to throw his life and their efforts away. The one time we did get to go over to his house, there was an incredible photo of his parents from when they fled. In the picture, Nemo’s mom has an RPG resting across her shoulder. The five of us walked through the door and were about to walk up the stairs to our friends’ apartment, but Nemo shoved us out of the way and ran up the flight stairs, skipping every other step. We were going to chase after him to make sure he didn’t go out on to the roof, but he tripped over his cement block feet halfway up the first flight of stairs. He quickly got back up and stumbled up to the second floor. Before we could remind him that it was a bad idea and that he might slip on all of the freshly fallen leaves that Spangled the roof, he was already straddling the window frame. \Vhen we watched Nemo step through the win- dow to go out onto the roof, one of us joked, “\N’hat if he falls ofl?" \Ve all laughed because it wasn‘t out of the realm of possibility, but we were almost 56 certain it wouldn‘t happen. He‘s a brown bear of a man who stumbles recklessly into wherewr and holds the hand of slight misfortune. He liwd by his own conviction that he was invincible alter twen- ty-one years of sidestepping any real harm although for the majority of those twenty-one years, he never had the opportunity thanks to his parents. Just last week on a quiet Tuesday night at the house. we all jumped up from the living room couch when we heard him tumble down the stairs to the basement, shaking the entire house. We saw him lying at the foot of the stairwell surrounded by chips of paint that fell off the walls he collided into along with a pair of scissors he had no reason for carrying. He was illogical like that. Once we made sure he was okay, we all laughed. None of us really knew why he felt the need to go out on to the roof. He didn’t care that it was dark out or that he had no specific reason to be out on the roof. He simply wanted to be on the roof for the sake of never being there before. When we got to the top of the stairs and before knocking on our friend's apartment door, we all looked out the window he stepped out of to get to the roof. We were still laughing because we thought we would see him there. It took us a second to real- ize the roof was empty. “Oh my god. He's not out there." We all ran back down the stairs and outside to the front yard as quickly as we could. Nobody was laughing By the time we had looked out the window. he had already fallen twenty feet in what must have been a second. When we got outside, there were already a few people who were walking by sur- rounding the well of an egress window where Nemo was lying. None of us could breathe, and neither Show less
WORLD AROUND TOWN Michael Torreson In Terril, it‘s rare for the house phone to ring past 9:00 on any night. The town encompasses six blocks in every direction in the heart of Iowa and is home to fewer than forty families. Many ofthe men work in the vast, undulating eornfields that cngull'the... Show moreWORLD AROUND TOWN Michael Torreson In Terril, it‘s rare for the house phone to ring past 9:00 on any night. The town encompasses six blocks in every direction in the heart of Iowa and is home to fewer than forty families. Many ofthe men work in the vast, undulating eornfields that cngull'the outskirts during the day, but by sundown the town becomes quiet as most people are eating supper with their family at the table. Don, the town sheriff, was lying awake in bed at 12:30 am. when the ringing phone cut the tension between the quiet and him. In his daze he quickly lurched over his side of the bed and reached for the silver pistol he stowed under his mattress, but once he realized what had startled him he quickly tip-toed to the phone in the living room as not to wake his wife, Mabel. Don cleared his throat as he raised the phone slowly to his ear. “Gard residence. Who‘s calling?" He answered quietly. “Hey Donnie. It's Vernon." “Verne I already told ya that ifyou have any problems while I’m off-duty to callJoe first.“ The last time Don had to be reached at his home in the night was when Ronnie Sorensen’s house started on fire. It turned out he was running a meth lab out of his house and was selling it to some ofthejunkies on the outskirts oftown. Everyone still talks about the incident at the Terril Fire Department’s annual pancake breakfast. “I know, I know. ButJoe don’t need to know about this." “Well, heck‘s going on?“ “I was doin' patrol on 14 tonight, and I had some drunk kid fly by me in a red pickup, swervin’ and shit, and so I threw on my lights and pulled him over. \Vell, once I pulled him over I realized it was one of yours." Don paced over to the front window to look out toward the driveway but was stopped short once the telephone chord had been stretched taut. 93 Show less
they would make it across the forest, split- ting into two huge groups, fooling the Rebels and swiftly crossing the Rapidan at Ely Ford to outflank them; they would guard the two raadJ—he was to be on the larger and better tended of the two—and prepare fir the Union attempt to tron the river and... Show morethey would make it across the forest, split- ting into two huge groups, fooling the Rebels and swiftly crossing the Rapidan at Ely Ford to outflank them; they would guard the two raadJ—he was to be on the larger and better tended of the two—and prepare fir the Union attempt to tron the river and outflank them; he was to take the Orange Turnpike, the larger and better tended ofthe two. They waited in position all day. They marched through the wilderness all day, and at last tho; saw the Union tolumn, .tpread out oulnerabl} among the treex, and with a Rebel yell they heard the terrifying, yipping screams and knew they were trapped in these trees where so many had died the previous year in The Battle of Chancellorsville; where flowers bloomed wildly in the soil, soaked richly in the blood oftheir fallen brothers. jemtp rushed firrward, feeling fir the first time as though the machine that took over in war was low on fuel; as though the fitmes (Jhi: will to protect his home were choking him now, rather than jolting him finoard; choking him like the tobacco all thoxeyears ago, befire he had moved to Carolina to margv his love. Fueling him like the fire in those dark, perfect nights all those years ago, before he had moved to Pennsylvania to escape his life. His blue eyes glowed bright with his purpose, and he saw the wave of grey as the rolling smoke off of the dead fire in those horrible mornings after; and he saw the glinting bras: and deep blue at the beautyul earl} morning sky, glowing out from hixjounger brother, and make the world a little brighter. He reached the line and clashed, and then... he saw hit bmther... with mother’s 9e: and 78 father’s hair... and he felt the free lot-e ofhi: mother... and reathed out to grab him and pull him away from here... to leave this plate that held no purpose, and he saw grey, he saw death, and evil, and the sins he had inherited from father. A wild tenta- cle of this yawping creature lashed out at him, and his bayonet punctured its heart. ...and he bled... and he looked his brother in the are: and saw nothing but dixgutt... the glow was gone... he was only another perton; another 'Iankee’... he subbed as he top- pled forward to join the fertilizer... and he returned to ashes, dead and unmoving... hard/j smoldering... And he saw the glow springing forth from his blue uniform, from inside himself; that glow of purpose. He spit on the grey appendage, and he stepped over it, on his way to freedom. Show less
EDITORIAL BOARD MARY CORNELIUS, EDITOR IN CHIEF MALENA LARSEN, ASSOCIATE EDITOR AUDREY CAMPBELL, ART EDITOR s: LAYOUT DESIGNER MEGHAN JOHNSON, ART EDITOR ANDREW IEWELL, POETRY EDITOR PATTI LINDAEERRY, PROSE EDITOR RYAN NICHOLS. PROSE EDITOR ABIGAIL TETZLAFF, PROSE EDITOR CARY WATERMAN, ADVISOR... Show moreEDITORIAL BOARD MARY CORNELIUS, EDITOR IN CHIEF MALENA LARSEN, ASSOCIATE EDITOR AUDREY CAMPBELL, ART EDITOR s: LAYOUT DESIGNER MEGHAN JOHNSON, ART EDITOR ANDREW IEWELL, POETRY EDITOR PATTI LINDAEERRY, PROSE EDITOR RYAN NICHOLS. PROSE EDITOR ABIGAIL TETZLAFF, PROSE EDITOR CARY WATERMAN, ADVISOR IVY ARTS COPY 8: PRINT AUGSEURG COLLEGE DAY STUDENT GOVERNMENT AUGSBURG COLLEGE ENGLISH DEPARTMENT AUGSBURG COLLEGE ART DEPARTMENT THE ECHO THE RIVETER MAGAZINE 0.1. SXNVHL Hllm Show less
ground. Fear was an accepted constant in his life, but venturing into a new area frightened him even further. He no longer knew which backyards housed dogs or cruel teenaged boys. And yet, when he saw her waiting for the bus, he felt no fear at all. Some— thing about the warm red orange color of... Show moreground. Fear was an accepted constant in his life, but venturing into a new area frightened him even further. He no longer knew which backyards housed dogs or cruel teenaged boys. And yet, when he saw her waiting for the bus, he felt no fear at all. Some— thing about the warm red orange color of her parka or the way she watched the snow settle gently on the landscape as she stood, he couldn't tell which, felt peaceful and welcoming. Overwhelmed with optimism and daring, he trotted toward her and nuzzled her snowy boots with his nose. “\Vell, hi there,” she said as she knelt down and patted his head with her fltu purple mittens. Angus took this as his chance to cry out and beg for food, warmth,anything. He let her scoop him off the sidewalk. He looked up at her and purred while she carried him. She took him to her apartment. He had never been indoors before. The small, crowded apartment glowed with comfort and safety. Allison filled a bowl with water and opened a can of tuna which he gulped down before she could finish lying on the phone to her boss about feeling sick. She gave him another can of tuna before scratching behind his ears and saying, “I’m gonna go to the store and get a few things for you. Make yourself at home, I’ll be back soon.” \Vhile Allison was gone, Angus explored his new environment and located all the new smells it offered. \Vhen she returned, he was busy scouting out the coziest nooks he could find. He protested severely when she started bathing him, but the water was warm and he grew quiet as she worked the shampoo into a soothing lather. Soon he was dry again and the new friends spent the afternoon sprawled across Allison’s overstuffed corduroy couch 66 while sugary music \ideos danced across the TV. The next two years were spent in a similar fash- ion. Angus would nap the mornings away while Alli- son was at work. She was a resealth biologist and when she came home she would tell him all about her experiments. They always involved mice, which Angus found very fascinating. “\Ve had to switch to a different type of feed for the mice today, Angus. There was a backorder. I hope it doesn’t affect our results," she would tell him as they ate their dinners. Evenings were spent on the couch. He would nuzzle up against her chest and purr while she stroked his fur and watched sitcoms. Angus was happy like this, though occasion- ally he would sit in the window sill and reminisce about being outside chasing birds or raking his claws across tree trunks. There was a scratching post Allison had bought him, and toy mice. but nothing gave the same thrills. However, this complaint was minor and he decided, felt deep down, that living with Allison was the best thing he had ever known. He never went hungry, he always stayed warm, and, most importantly, he was no longer alone. Allison was always there to scratch his ears and tell him how the mice were doing. And she would always be there, he thought. “I need you to be nicer to this one, Angus," Alli- son told him the first evening Vanessa came mrer. He mostly complied. He curled up on the couch while the two women ate dinner. He hadn’t even complained when they seemed him over to watch a movie. The three of them sat together on the sofa like that into the small hours of the morning The two women cuddled and kissed while Angus purred and slept. In the morning, before she left, Vanessa filled Angus’s bowl with food and topped it off with Show less
the frozen concrete floor as he kept his hands folded inside the sleeves of hisjacket. Still—nothing. Don was becoming impatient; he twisted away from his Ion and slammed his fist on the side of the oaky wooden wall. The resonating pound made Richie slowly lift his head, but he stopped short of... Show morethe frozen concrete floor as he kept his hands folded inside the sleeves of hisjacket. Still—nothing. Don was becoming impatient; he twisted away from his Ion and slammed his fist on the side of the oaky wooden wall. The resonating pound made Richie slowly lift his head, but he stopped short of meeting his father’s face. “I went to a movie, sir." Every word other than ‘sir’ had slurred together. Don was about to yell again, but he saw a black and white ticket stub sticking out ofhis son’s pants pocket. Don paused for a second, staring at the ticket stub, but he took a couple steps toward Richie and snagged the loose stub from his pocket to examine it more closely. Dr. Strangelavt, Theater 3, 8:00 pm. Don felt his stomach plunge to the cold, concrete floor. Don had also been in Graettingcr earlier that night. He drove halfan hour to the only theater within fifty miles to spend a night with another woman he met a few months back. Togeth- er they were tucked inconspicuously in the middle ofthe columns and rows ofTheater 3 at 8:00 pm. Don wore a Chicago Cubs baseball cap below his eyebrows and a blue polo he kept stuffed in the cab of his truck. Richie bobbed forward twice as if he was about to vomit, but he could only dry heave. In truth, he never made it to his seat. He began throw- ing up in the theater bathroom before the movie started when a staff member came in and kicked him out. But Richie's silence, due to his fear of throwing up more, was enough to make Don think that his son had seen him in the theater wrapping his arm around the younger woman he kept kissing discreetly on the neck. Ofcourse, Richie was so drunk that he had hardly recognized his father when he entered through the small cell door, but the intense silence lingered as the two refused to look each other in the eyes. Don looked down at the bronze badge pinned on the left ofhisjacket again and looked at all of the small the scratches and nicks on it. “So, did you see anyone you know at the movie? You’re shaking the whole bench, Richie.” His voice had softened for the first time since he arrived at the cell. Don unzipped his coat and laid it over Richie’s shoulders as he took a seat next to him on the wooden bench. Richie’s face twisted, and this time he was the one who slammed his fist into the side ofthe jail. “I wasjust really mad, okay?” That’s why I drove dad, drunk.” He planted his elbows into his knees and pressed his face to his cupped hands, accidentally scratching his eye in the process. Richie was mad, but he was mad because the friend he went with to the movie refused to give ltim their half-empty flask ofwhiskey after he had thrown up on the wall ofthe theater even before going inside to buy a ticket. Even in his stupor, Richie knew to leave that detail out. Don slid his hand across Richie’s back and put his arm around him. Richie slowly raised his head toward his father, but he jerked back down into his hands. Don was convinced that he had been caught. “Rich 7 son, I don‘t know how,” he choked. A salty tear slowly dripped into the crevice of his tight lips. “I don’t know how to tell your mother about this." Richie began to cry. Through his sobbing, he frantically kept saying she could never know. 95 Show less
At my heels with each step, Welcoming them to another day Supporting my complacent frame. Down upon my feet The cracks start to inhale, Swallowing up leaves and stone. Down upon my feet, I sigh, As I seep in. 27
So, God ended up riding home with me. He’s down in the basement right now, still locked up in that chest. I always meant to burn him with the rest of my trash, but then I threw out my back. You boys can have him ifyou want.“ They stared at him. Later that night, Dave pulled the Dragon Wagon OR... Show moreSo, God ended up riding home with me. He’s down in the basement right now, still locked up in that chest. I always meant to burn him with the rest of my trash, but then I threw out my back. You boys can have him ifyou want.“ They stared at him. Later that night, Dave pulled the Dragon Wagon OR the paved road north of town and guid- ed it over the gravel until he could see the old quar- ry that the teenagers used as a swimming pond. The members of Death‘s Bludgeon quickly walked to the van’s rear double doors and threw them open. They had covered the ancient wooden chest with a blanket on the ride over so they wouldn’t have to look at it. While Axel went to work making a bed offirewood and lighter fluid, the other three gripped the trunk and cautiously lifted it out of the van. Forty minutes later, the chest and its contents were engulfed in flames. They stayed until daylight arrived and the fire had died out on its own. Had they paid more attention to the ashes that they shovcled into the nearby trees, they would have noticed certain subtleties, scraps ofpaper with words like “special offer” and “current resident” still visible, that betrayed a different explanation of the chest‘s contents than whatjackal had told them. Then again, subtlety was never Death’s Bludgeon‘s claim to fame. As they rode home they listened to overpower- ing thrash metal on the Dragon Wagon‘s stereo and pierced the quiet morning with theirjoyous howls. 23 Show less
made me lose my tone and think about the problem. The city on the lefi was sm'ct, refined, ordered, and logical, while the right was loose,jumbled, chaotic, and creative. They were two polar opposites, two extremes on each side of the spectrum, only separated by two walls. The two cities would... Show moremade me lose my tone and think about the problem. The city on the lefi was sm'ct, refined, ordered, and logical, while the right was loose,jumbled, chaotic, and creative. They were two polar opposites, two extremes on each side of the spectrum, only separated by two walls. The two cities would easily balance each other out if those walls were eliminated... “They’re separat- ed. That’s the problem,” I said as I looked up towards my father, “They could easily balance each other out but they choose to fortify themselves behind their walls, never changing” My father gave a slight nod of his head and clasped my shoulder and gave a small squeeze, then turned and started making his way down the hill. I took one last glance at the Border, shook my head, and followed after my father. 39 Show less
noticed certain subtleties that betrayed the attrac- tion’s true purpose. Then again, subtlety was never Death’s Bludgeon‘s claim to fame. Salivating at the promise of gory visuals and “the most extreme hor- rors ever seen!!!,” the four musicians failed to notice how the letter T in “extreme” had... Show morenoticed certain subtleties that betrayed the attrac- tion’s true purpose. Then again, subtlety was never Death’s Bludgeon‘s claim to fame. Salivating at the promise of gory visuals and “the most extreme hor- rors ever seen!!!,” the four musicians failed to notice how the letter T in “extreme” had been extended into a Cross shape and they further failed to see the line ofsmall text that read, “Presented by Grace Baptist Church of Dalmuth Township.” They didn’t even find it odd how the man with the flyers shook each one ofthcir hands as he looked them in the eye with a broad smile and told them to “Have a blessed, blessed day," before they walked into the liquor store. The congregation at Grace Baptist Church had thrown themselves into their task with the type ofefl'ort that long ago had given rise to the ste- reotype of the Protestant work ethic. Every lonely rural intersection in a hundred-mile radius from the haunted house was adorned with red, penta- grammed signs pointing out which turns to make. This made it easy for Dave, the band’s drummer and its only member with a driver‘s license, to make his way through the indistinguishable fields and dirt roads as the other three threw potato chips at each other and shouted jokes over the deafening clash ofgrowls and arpeggios blasting through the van‘s speakers. They had painted a crude mural of themselves fighting a dragon on either side ofthe vehicle, earning it the nickname Dragon “'agon. Pretty soon, Dave could tell they were getting close because the handmade signs along the road started appearing quite regularly. Eventually, he turned the Dragon Wagon onto a long driveway that led into a small, dark forest which inexplicably occu- pied the center ofa corn field. In the passenger seat, the band’s vocalist and de facto leader Rex turned the stereo OH. The driveway was adorned on either side by gothic torches and a variety of horror props. Horned animal skulls, pentagrams, and plastic sev- ered limbs had been brushed with fake blood and placed with great care along the narrow stretch of gravel road. All manner of disfigured beast could be seen lurking in silhouette through the trees, and their Cries echoed in the night air. As Dave navigat- ed the twisting path, a few ofthese creatures rushed toward the Dragon Wagon from the darkness and pounded on its windows. The first ofthese assaults startled Axel, the band’s bassist, and he let out a frightened shriek. The others gently mocked him, but soon they were all rendered silent by occasional glimpses ofa giant, aging Southern-style mansion. Soon, Dave pulled into a clearing and parked the Dragon \N’agon near a small collection ofother vehicles. Once out ofthe van, the four were con- fronted with the genuinely unsettling vision ofthe dilapidated manor. Even in its prime it would have been a strange sight, a plantation home somehow transported to the dark forests of the Midwest. In its current state, it was downright frightening. Time-stained curtains swung half-torn in the broken windows like yellow, jagged teeth waiting to feed on rotting flesh. Firelight and shadow moved across the exterior walls in a devilish undulation that suggested life, or at least undeath. The bloody, terrored handprints on the doorframe blurred toward the black entrance as though their makers had been pulled screaming into the abyss. The whole scene created an unspoken dare calling the bold and foolishly curious to their demise. As the bandmates neared the building, they 17 Show less
ROLLER SKATING WITH Mary Cornelius The boy was sweating. He was sweating through the pine-scented deodorant his mom bought him at the convenience store yesterday on her way home from work. He smelled like a man lost in the woods. The girl was snapping her gum. She had stolen a pack a week ago... Show moreROLLER SKATING WITH Mary Cornelius The boy was sweating. He was sweating through the pine-scented deodorant his mom bought him at the convenience store yesterday on her way home from work. He smelled like a man lost in the woods. The girl was snapping her gum. She had stolen a pack a week ago from her older sister and was making her way through it meticulously, chewing each piece until long after it lost its flavor. This gob was halfway between rubber and peppermint. “'hen she blew a bubble, it was greenish-grey. It was a Saturday afternoon, October. The sky was sharp and blue. They were walking together past the Hines County roller rink and they were not holding hands. The girl didn't want to go roller skating. The boy had asked her Thursday on the bus, two stops before her. Jim had been sitting in the seat behind her for 82 REMY over a week now, but whenever she’d try to look back at him, to ask him a question about the math homework or the Broncos game or ifgum really did stay in your stomach for seven years after you swallowed it, he‘d have his eyes out the window, his thumbs plucking plastic buttons on a handheld Atari videogame set. By Thursday, she'd given up, so instead of tossing him another question she was flipping pag- es, deciphering an old issue ofa fashion magazine she’d found in one ofthe third floor bathroom stalls earlier that morning. “Have you ever been roller skating, Remy?" His voice cracked halfway through (an, the question tumbling out ofhis chapped mouth too loud and too fast, but he didn't turn pink until she looked at him. He was perched up on his knees, hoisted halfway over her bus seat, elbows anchored against the brown vinyl back. She took her time acknowledging him. peeking Show less
A JOKE Michael Torreson A naval commander, a poet, and I, a clown, walked into a bar. \Ve three classmates didn’t get together often, but Eli knew that my one-year anniversary of sobriety was that day and that I had been having a rough couple ofyears since we all graduated art school. I started... Show moreA JOKE Michael Torreson A naval commander, a poet, and I, a clown, walked into a bar. \Ve three classmates didn’t get together often, but Eli knew that my one-year anniversary of sobriety was that day and that I had been having a rough couple ofyears since we all graduated art school. I started drinking after the first time I had a pie thrown in my face. I had disgrace caked on my face, and I hate coconut. I thought that was some- thing that happenedjust on television.But, I drank the most when I started to question my purpose. \Vhen Eli called Mark, our commander friend who refused to go by anything other than Captain, he said he would meet the three ofus only ifit were somewhere he could get a couple drinks and a girl to go home with. Eli knew how outrageous and self- ish the request was, but I know that he oozed in the irony of the situation. Damn poet. So he agreed on the condition that Mark called me to convince me to go. I became exhausted explaining to Mark that a bar was a terrible place for me to be, considering I was celebrating a year of not drinking, but Mark argued that going to a bar would “build character." I tried so hard to say no but as Mark talked at me. I was sitting on a tattered leather sofa in front of another frozen meal. Something was better than nothing, I thought. \Vhen the three of us sat down at the round, cloth covered table, Eli and Mark both pulled cigarettes out from their pockets. Before lighting his cigarette, Eli asked me ifme ifl wanted one as well. I nodded yes but as I reached to grab the cigarette, Mark interjected. “No place to put your smokes in that clown costume? C‘mon don‘t look so sad." I was used to this sort ofroutine from Mark, but it never made it easier for me. It was always as if he needed to remind me ofhow much I hated my- self. “I’m just messin’ with you, but would it kill you to maybe go wash that makeup offin the bathroom or something?" I hadn‘t bought a fresh pack ofcigarettes in a couple months. I can‘t afford them anymore really. I took the cigarette from Eli’s fingers and turned to Mark. Show less
OEDIPUS STILL APPLIES Sarah Mueller “He deserved what he got,” I thought to myself as I looked down at the mangled body on the ground. By now I was starting to catch my breath and felt my hand relax on the blood-covered blade. As my vision unelouded and my hearing was restored, I remembered my... Show moreOEDIPUS STILL APPLIES Sarah Mueller “He deserved what he got,” I thought to myself as I looked down at the mangled body on the ground. By now I was starting to catch my breath and felt my hand relax on the blood-covered blade. As my vision unelouded and my hearing was restored, I remembered my mother huddled in the corner. “Mom!” I dropped the weapon which fell point first into the hardwood floor ofthe den. My eyes welled up with tears of reliefas I held her and repeated the only two phrases I could process. “I’m sorry. I love you." When I was growing up I was always close to my mom. She taught me almost everythingI know about how to survive in this world. She showed me what it really meant to be strong and taught me practical life skills. Countless hours were spent in the kitchen as she taught me how to crack eggs, sift flour, combine spices, and wash dishes. That was always my job. That and stirring whatever was boil- ing on the stovetop. l envied her strong hands that 102 kneaded dough into bread and carried hot pans that should have required oven mitts. In addition to ‘ all ofthe house chores, she enjoyed tending to her flowers both in and out of the house. Her patience was admirable and her green eyes were always two pools of understanding and love. I was sixteen when I realized I was a lesbian. My father did not approve. He never talked about it and for a while tried ignoring it. My first girlfriend was a girl from my school named Megan. We went to prom together and my dad told every- one we were friends. He turned to alcohol when he lost hisjob. He was a district manager for a dis- tribution company and when a younger employee showed promise, he was bumped from his position. The real trouble was that he was over-qualified for any openings at that or other nearby companies. That meant settling on something temporary in the labor sector. Every evening and every weekend he would Show less
HOW TO SURVIVE A HURRICANE Patti Lindaberry You stir the blueberries into the thick white yogurt and hope your coworker sitting at the table behind you, can’t hear the thunder rolling in your empty belly. How embarrassing would it be for the growl of your stomach to drown out the newscast spewing... Show moreHOW TO SURVIVE A HURRICANE Patti Lindaberry You stir the blueberries into the thick white yogurt and hope your coworker sitting at the table behind you, can’t hear the thunder rolling in your empty belly. How embarrassing would it be for the growl of your stomach to drown out the newscast spewing speculation about an impending hurricane that has been spinning in the Atlantic for a week? You try to follow the colorful animated swirls on the TV screen and listen to the predictions. Again. How many variations can there be for one hurricane? It will either hit the GulfCoast ofFlorida, or it won’t. But according to the radar, within a one hundred mile radius, the eye’s on your town. You aren’t sure ifyou should be excited or terrified. After all, it isn’t every day a girl from Indiana gets the chance to ponder how to survive a hurricane. Close your eyes. Listen to the words flowing from the TV. Digest the vocabulary. Feeder bands. Category three, four or five. Tropical depression. Eye of a hurricane. Wall of a hurri- 116 cane. Swells. \Vind shear. Meteorologist Barbie chats with hurricane expert Ken about safety and survival. You chuckle at a segment as a soccer mom compares the durability of Hello Kitty duct tape to the plain gray. ‘Vith over forty-five styles ofduct tape, how will you ever chose? Maybe leopard print or hot pink would be more suitable for your neigh- borhood. You wouldn’t want to deviate from the ghetto theme of the meth addicts and crack whores on the block. You calculate how many gallons of water you’ll need. Do you own a flashlight? How bad will the stench be if no one can shower for days? You’re interrupted by a whistling coworker. He waves to you, but you don’t acknowledge his greeting. You turn up the volume on the TV and dig in your lunch bag for a book of short stories you are reading for an intro to Literature class at the community college. You grab the Tarot card you used as a book mark. Is it a sign from the universe that the card is Show less
up slowly over the magazine’s cracked spine. She was molasses honey slow, the pursued instead of the pursuer now, and it filled her with a quiet thrill she did her best not to show. She’d been once, roll- er-skating, a few years ago in the summer to earn a badge with the Girl Scouts, but she wasn... Show moreup slowly over the magazine’s cracked spine. She was molasses honey slow, the pursued instead of the pursuer now, and it filled her with a quiet thrill she did her best not to show. She’d been once, roll- er-skating, a few years ago in the summer to earn a badge with the Girl Scouts, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. When she didn‘t answer, he kept talking, fast. “They have a deal on Saturdays, now, two hours for a dollar. They give you tokens for the arcade. And free skate rental, too, ifyou ask right.”Jim couldn't quite will himselfto meet her eyes, so he was watching her mouth, the way she moved her gum in and out of her lips, through her teeth. “My brother, Freddy, can even get free hot dogs some- times." She closed the magazine. “I’ll have to ask Tina first. You know. See ifthe girls have plans.” His eyes were dark, two fat ants burning under his thick-rimmed glasses. She read in them an equal balance of ecstasy and fear, and was pleased. “So ask me tomorrow. 1‘” let you know." Remy reopened the magazine and chewed en- thusiastically on a wad of gum that had long since lost its flavor. “Cath, what does it taste like when you kiss a boy?" The girl was upstairs with her sister, doing homework on the top bunk in the shabby room they shared. She was puzzling through a set ofal- zebra problems, multiplying exponents and solving for x but getting lost in the tangle ofit all along the way. She felt like the bug under the glass now, aware ofherselfmelting but unsure ofthe source of the heat. Her sister kept filing her nails. “It depends on the boy.” Cath wasjunior in high school and had had a different date for every formal since fresh- man year. Remy imagined each one standing tall in the room now, lined up against the bookcase in grey and blue and black suits. “But, in general? Don’t mouths taste like mouths? Does it taste like your mouth, only differ- ent, or like something completely new?” She didn’t know how to describe it more than that. “I don’t know, Rem, you’ll have to try it your- self.” She looked down at her nails again, unscrew- ing the cap ofa dark red polish. “God knows I did when I was your age.” Why, ofall things, did he say roller skating? Jim sat at the kitchen table, math spread across haphazardly, watching his mother peel potatoes and his brother shoot hoops outside in the yard from the window. Roller skating. Freddy could get them free hot dogs alright. right after he made some pcnisjoke that she would get and he would miss the first time around, not re- alizing what happened until she was red in the face and not meeting his eyes. Or, worse, he’d come on to her, skip the penis joke entirely, ask her to skate a lap with him and kiss her right under the disco ball. On the bus Monday she‘d tap his shoulder from behind and say, Hey, Jim. (flu/(IJ'OH tell Freaky.— “HeyJim, could you give me a hand here, hun?” His mother gestured to the pile ofslimy tubers next to the sink, then to the pot where they were about to boil. “It goes twice as fast with extra hands." He slid the math book closed, walked to the sink to pick up the knife. His mother continued to 83 Show less
TRYING TO STAY ALIVE Frankie McNamara She leaned against the crumbling brick wall, trying her best to blend in with the shadows. She was won’ied that she was going to be seen by the planes or the snipers Right now the only thing protecting her from being spotted or killed was this wall. This wall... Show moreTRYING TO STAY ALIVE Frankie McNamara She leaned against the crumbling brick wall, trying her best to blend in with the shadows. She was won’ied that she was going to be seen by the planes or the snipers Right now the only thing protecting her from being spotted or killed was this wall. This wall used to be the coffee shop that she used to go to with her parents be- fore the war started. Both of her parents had been killed in a bombing raid 6 months ago. They both worked at the factory, which produced weapons for the war effort. The bombs had destroyed most of the city including the factory and they’re not many places to hide anymore. The taan and the soldiers of the enemy were approach— ing the city and would surely try to take over the city but we are not going to let that happen. The war had been going on for two years now, there was no end in sight, and we did not know what was going to happen to our City. Since her parents died she did not know what to do, they were her rock and she did not have any other family. She was sent to an orphanage by the government 34 but she did not like it there so she escaped. She had been living on the streets trying to stay aliw and doing almost anything to find food. She went back to her house to see if was still there. She believed it would be a safe place to live during the war. When she arrived at her house, there was a tank in the front lawn, many cars parked in the driveway, and enemy soldiers patrolling around her old neighborhood. Upon seeing this she began to get scared and panic a little bit. Then she remembered the coffee shop. last time she went there it was still in busines only a few weeks ago. When she got there it was closed and boarded up. She thought to herself this is a good place to hide because no one would care to look. She found an opening in the boarded up window and she had to squeeze her body in the small opening Once, inside she went scmunging for food and stuffto start a fire. The first place she went to look was in the kitchen, all she could find there was: coffee, stale bread, canned tuna fish, and some padtets of cream and sum: The next place, she looked was the dining room there Show less
