Making memories question their existence making memories question their bones making bones remember I am taste I am asphyxiation of the ashes screaming in the car so the neighbors won’t hear Impact upon impact like a buffer of knives left to starve Wave wave flows in flows out falling to the ground... Show moreMaking memories question their existence making memories question their bones making bones remember I am taste I am asphyxiation of the ashes screaming in the car so the neighbors won’t hear Impact upon impact like a buffer of knives left to starve Wave wave flows in flows out falling to the ground with the ambition of a Wednesday night pickup line 91 Show less
THE SOUNDS WE MAKE Elizabeth Fernandez Let the comforting sounds of our cacophony n'ng throughout the malformed walls possessing our essence, echoing our disharmonious cries of reluctance as we purge our inner selves from all that we’ve wished for, from all that we’ve dreamed for, all that we’ve... Show moreTHE SOUNDS WE MAKE Elizabeth Fernandez Let the comforting sounds of our cacophony n'ng throughout the malformed walls possessing our essence, echoing our disharmonious cries of reluctance as we purge our inner selves from all that we’ve wished for, from all that we’ve dreamed for, all that we’ve hoped. Endlm concrete towers surround us m'th outstretched arms, their bodies concealing the deep and vibrant blue skies overhead, molding them to be unattainable. Reverberating heanbeats deceive our desire to keep them still, exposing our subatomic yeaming to remain living. I am still (axle III: color grg’. lt lingers in my mouth, sweltering my tongue avoiding the taste of a metallic liquid slithering down my lip. Our metropolis is broken and abandoned. I no longer remember my age, it never mattered here. . . Revolutionary catalyst for an upheaval of uprising, this disruption within us shall be your destruction, Anarchy be our salvation, pandemonium our savior. Let us live, with your terror in resonance. 145 Show less
“Hold on, now. You said it was one of my trucks?” “\Vell,” it sounded like Vernon had licked his lips, “that too, but your oldest boy was the one drivin’ it.” “Clint? Ain’t no way. Boy was in bed before I got home.” “Ain’t your oldest Richie?" There was a brief silence. “Right—Richie. Shit.” “... Show more“Hold on, now. You said it was one of my trucks?” “\Vell,” it sounded like Vernon had licked his lips, “that too, but your oldest boy was the one drivin’ it.” “Clint? Ain’t no way. Boy was in bed before I got home.” “Ain’t your oldest Richie?" There was a brief silence. “Right—Richie. Shit.” “\Vell anyway, he was nice enough and all once I pulled him over, but he was too drunk to be drivin’. I had to take him in and now he’s sittin’ over in the shack. I gave him a coat and some gloves since it’s so damn cold out, but I figured I better call ya to see what ya wanted to do bout it." Don took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Yep, I‘ll be over there in a couple minutes. Don‘t bother meeting me there. I’ll handle it. Thanks Vernon.” He hung up the phone and tried sneaking back into the bedroom to put on his Carharts and his heavy blue coat, but when he stepped through the door Mabel was sitting up in her white night- gown while her eyes remained mostly closed. “Donald Gard,” Mabel rubbed her eyes a bit. She was sleepy but stern, “who was that on the phone?" “Oh, it wasjust Vernon. Says he wants me to go over there quick. Some drunk bastard started poppin’ rounds oflin front ofthe bar on Main Street." “I didn’t hear no gun shot.” She lay back down on the bed and turned her back to him, pulling the white comforter over and wrapping herselfin it. “You were asleep." Don quickly zipped up his coat. 94 “I was only half-asleep. I woke up when you got back from the movie. I thought you said you went with Vernon anyway." Don stayed focused. “He went on patrol once we got back from Graettinger, but anyway he needs me at the station to take care of it I guess.“ He walked over to the other side of the bed to kiss his wife on the cheek before he lefi, but when he leaned she turned again so that the pillows covered her face. He stood there for a second but decided to say nothing. He turned ofl'the small lamp on the nightstand and left. When Don stepped inside of the small iron- barred, outdoor shack that served as the town jail cell, it reeked ofcold sweat and stale vomit. Don cringed when the scent blended with the manure smell permeating from the neighboring farms. It was a small cell, but they hardly had to use it any- way. He stepped through the door and turned to his son, Richie, who made no attempt to look at his father. He had been sitting in the jail for nearly an hour but remained fixated on a small, black feather that the wind had blown through the door. At first. neither one ofthem spoke. Don looked down at his badge and released another heavy sigh, creating a cloud ofvapor from the cold weather. Don finally broke the silence. “I can't believe you would do somethin' so stupid,” he said. "Drinkin’ and drivin’. Are you kiddin’ me?” Richie said nothing. Don stood there in the small outdoor cell with his hands on his hips. “Well say somethin’. lfyou think I don't deserve an explanation for bein‘ woken up after midnight be- cause my good for nothin’ kid got picked up drivin' my truck drunker than a skunk, thenfi.” Richie’s heavy boot heels began to bounce on Show less
ESCAPE FROM HELL! Ryan Nichols On the drive home, they listened only to the dull growl of the dirty van’s engine and the oscillating hum ofits balding tires against the aging country highway. The two sounds converged in a sort of hollow, lonely question that none ofthe four pas— sengers knew how... Show moreESCAPE FROM HELL! Ryan Nichols On the drive home, they listened only to the dull growl of the dirty van’s engine and the oscillating hum ofits balding tires against the aging country highway. The two sounds converged in a sort of hollow, lonely question that none ofthe four pas— sengers knew how to begin answering. They hadn’t been prepared for a shared experience of melan- choly. Individually, they might have been able to feign levity or force through ajoke to distract them- selves, but as a group they had yet to come up with a strategy for such situations. So, they rode without speaking while the van droned on. \Vhen they pulled off the highway, the relative quiet ofthe sleeping city streets was unbearable. It begged them to disrupt the night in their usual manner, with some screeching thrash metal on the van’s stereo harmonized with unholy howls oftheir own. But, they remained somber as they trudged into the dirty one-story house they shared. Usu- ally they were oblivious to the piles ofcrumpled 16 fast food containers and layers ofspilled beer that covered every surface, but tonight, in the glare of self-reflection, they suddenly had a physical sense of how repulsive the place was. Still, they were too low to make any efforts. It wasn‘t until they had each settled into their places on the stained couch and plaid recliners around the television and had taken a swig or two ofcheap beer that Rex finally overcame the silence. “Man, that was some heavy shit." Earlier that night, the members of Death's Bludgeon, the premiere (and only) thrash met- al band of Rogersville, Wisconsin, had driven seventy-five miles into the featureless expanse of farm country to attend “Escape from Hell!," the newest haunted house in the region's already boom- ing seasonal attraction circuit. Had they paid closer attention to the overdressed man outside the strip mall who had given them the flyer advertising the event or even to the flyer itself, they would have Show less
CHAPTER 3: THE PLOT THICKENS Melony Q. Kunderstein She walked into my oflice, a smokin‘ damsel with a face that could melt at cheesecake. Her ruby red dress was shining brighter than the future ofmany freckle faced kindergartners, the kind of freckles that can bring an entire empire to its knees.... Show moreCHAPTER 3: THE PLOT THICKENS Melony Q. Kunderstein She walked into my oflice, a smokin‘ damsel with a face that could melt at cheesecake. Her ruby red dress was shining brighter than the future ofmany freckle faced kindergartners, the kind of freckles that can bring an entire empire to its knees. This gal walked right up to me, looked me in the eyes, licked her lips, blinked 6 times, and opened up her mouth as ifshe was going to say something, like she was going to speak the entirety ofeverything that is her life and all her aspirations. “Sup, Detective.” She said to me in a voice that sounded much more like a Biggie Smalls and much less like a Betty White, throw in a little oer. T's voice and boy howdy! Do you have me hooked! I responded to her with the suaveness of an Emperor Penguin attract- ing a mate, “Cut to the chase!" l bellowed like Billy Goat Grulf. “l need a detective to send a message.“ She sprayed those words out like a garden hose or a Crazy Daisy water play set ofsorts. By George she was burly, she was like a combination of an orangutan and a 100 year old oak tree, the perfect woman for a guy like me. I never thought I’d find myselfin a situation where I‘d see a woman’s face again, ever since my wife was viciously attacked by a gang ofbiker grannies, I lost her in a whirl of motorcycles, handbags, and false teeth. It all happened so slow! After a long blank stare from both parties I tried to respond to her statement, but gasp! \Vho would burst into my office, but my trusty sidekickJojo, a monkey in a leotard. He rode into the room on a circus ball, honking a bike horn, while eating a bundle bananas. I remember it as quite a feat. Andjust as quickly as he came into our lives he left without a trace. I sometimes think, while looking up at Orion’s Belt (the constellation, not the clothing), if somehow, somewhere, some- why he's looking at the same constellation (or the aforementioned clothing material) I cry sometimes just at the mere thought ofthe saucy simian looking in generally the same direction as I. l immediate- 109 Show less
\sweat drizzling down like chocolate syrup on an ice cream cone, it was working. “N—not many. . .uh... inurvive these settings. Excuse me” He trotted to the one window, lifting it up while quivering. “Is it hot in here? Orjust me? Ah, well-“ the being sat ‘down across from the female, avoiding... Show more\sweat drizzling down like chocolate syrup on an ice cream cone, it was working. “N—not many. . .uh... inurvive these settings. Excuse me” He trotted to the one window, lifting it up while quivering. “Is it hot in here? Orjust me? Ah, well-“ the being sat ‘down across from the female, avoiding eye contact ‘and growing in discomfort. “You seem like a smart ‘. girl,” he coughed, lurching inevitable germs into the air, “according to your chart ofcourse.” He coughed again,the color in his face began to drain 'he squirmed clearly uncomfortable with her pres- -cnce witnessing his weakness. “I suppose that’s all *for the day.” The silence began to engulf him as he stands to hover about his cherry-wood desk. As the Ifcmale rose with a faint smile, he began to shake in uncontrollablejolts. Finally, it was time. Her smirk itched at her lips, almost forcing her to lose her composure. She drew her arms near her frame, crossing them as her golden hues flickered with mere amusement. God, he had talked so much.For weeks she had listened to him whimper and whine about her opening up and letting him in.Explain- ing how such a fragile young girl couldn’t survive the simplistic floor plan and idiot patients that occupied the space between. For weeks she had i counted the minutes, counted the days, until the 1 time was right. Right for her to silence him. Her soft melody escaped her lips, with a soft hushed breathe she uttered, “Good bye.” \Vith that his discomfort grew, his body withered in spasms as he dropped to the floor. The coughing grew louder while he began to gasp for air, despite all ofthis he reached for his round trimmed glasses, with one last breath he came to a halt. Everything he left lhen became her possession, the chart, the admis- sion recommendations, anything that whispered the name Ember Rose in the silence. The flowing breeze in the window called to her, shejumped. 47 Show less
ANXIETY. Elise Hitchings . . . 135 FACES (5), Kathetine Gripne . . . 136 NEW YORK, Malena Larsen . . . 137 A JOKE, Michael Torreson . . . 138 THE DARK KNIGHT, Clayton Rud . . . 142 CLlFFS OF MOHER. Danny Polaschek . . . 143 THE GIFT HORSE, Bryce Kadrlik . . .144 THE SOUNDS WE MAKE, Elizabeth... Show moreANXIETY. Elise Hitchings . . . 135 FACES (5), Kathetine Gripne . . . 136 NEW YORK, Malena Larsen . . . 137 A JOKE, Michael Torreson . . . 138 THE DARK KNIGHT, Clayton Rud . . . 142 CLlFFS OF MOHER. Danny Polaschek . . . 143 THE GIFT HORSE, Bryce Kadrlik . . .144 THE SOUNDS WE MAKE, Elizabeth Fernandez . . . 145 AFFER LIFE. Sarah Mueller . . . 146 ACCEPTANCE, Hannah Schmit . . . I49 HERE TO STAY, Jazmin Crittenden . . . 150 Front cover image: The Augsburgian, 1957 Back cover image: The Augsburgian, 1971 Show less
.after that. He was too busy pleading for forgiveness and home. Suddenly, he was surrounded by a half dozen other cats in an unwelcoming, sterile room. 'Fear and instinct lcapt inside him when a curious black cat inched its nose toward him. Angus slashed and hissed. A chain reaction of scratching... Show more.after that. He was too busy pleading for forgiveness and home. Suddenly, he was surrounded by a half dozen other cats in an unwelcoming, sterile room. 'Fear and instinct lcapt inside him when a curious black cat inched its nose toward him. Angus slashed and hissed. A chain reaction of scratching, bit- ing, and wailing ignited the room. A man rushed through the door and grabbed Angus, taking him completely by surprise. The next few days he endured a lonely steel cage. He clawed and hissed at the clumsy hands of .grubby children and the eager fingers of equally .grubby hipsters who inevitably adopted one of the more docile cats. He barely ate. He pleaded and moaned whenever the workers made their rounds. At night, he would think about the cold bathroom 'floor of Allison‘s House and how much warmer it seemed than the loneliness he now felt. When he overheard a worker say Allison’s name on the phone, Angus pressed his ear through a gap in the cage door and tried to hear over the sound of his quickening pulse. “Allison? Hi, this isjenny from the shelter. I’m calling about Angus. No, he hasn‘t been adopted. That's why I‘m calling, actually It’s been almost a week and he still hasn’t acclimated. He’s not eating and he attacks anyone that comes near him. I un- derstand, but we’re already way over capacity and I'm afraid we can't keep him here any longer. \Vell, if you can’t find someone we‘ll have to put him down. I‘m sorry. Ok. I‘ll be here until 7. Ok. I‘ll see you then." An hour later, Allison was ushered through the “Employees Only" door and led to Angus's cage. He was waiting for her and pawing at the bars. It was no struggle to get him into the carrier this time. He was mostly quiet during the drive home; he simply matched the purringof the engine with his own. He first sensed something was wrong when Allison set the carrier down in the alley behind her house and opened the door. His intuition was con- firmed when he saw the tears in her eyes. He offered a meek plea and she picked him up and held him. “I know I promised that someone nice would adopt you, buddy, but maybe you don’teven want that. I’m sorry that things ended up this way, but I still love you. I promise that you’ll be alright.” He followed her toward the yard, but she closed the fence before he could get in. He clawed at the gate and cried out to her for a few hours before the familiar pain of hunger filled his stomach. He walked down the alley a few paces and began detecting the scent of something edible. He followed the smell and found a small, plywood structure built against the back of the garage. Inside was a rolled up blanket, a bowl of water, and some dry cat food. Before he went in, he looked back at the house. Allison was watching him from the second story window. He ducked inside the shelter, curled up on the blanket, and began to eat. Yeah, he would be alright. 69 Show less
WONDER D.E. Green 122 On his deathbed, my father cried out for his mother. \Vrll they embrace again? Was that retum to the primal scene of low a foreshadowing of the beyond, a momentary revelation, the Ur-thread of our humanity, or just the firing of neurons across synaptic space? Once we’re gone,... Show moreWONDER D.E. Green 122 On his deathbed, my father cried out for his mother. \Vrll they embrace again? Was that retum to the primal scene of low a foreshadowing of the beyond, a momentary revelation, the Ur-thread of our humanity, or just the firing of neurons across synaptic space? Once we’re gone, will we know each other again in the smallnes of our need? A child returning to her mother. The gruff beard of my father against my nine-year-old cheek, cooled by the winter that entered with him. Show less
drink. When he drank he became impossible to deal with. I was seventeen when he refused to ac- cept that Kat, my second girlfriend, was anything other than my closest friend. The day he saw us on my bed he lost it. He walked into my room to collect my hamper, which I always forgot to bring down... Show moredrink. When he drank he became impossible to deal with. I was seventeen when he refused to ac- cept that Kat, my second girlfriend, was anything other than my closest friend. The day he saw us on my bed he lost it. He walked into my room to collect my hamper, which I always forgot to bring down on the weekends, and caught us making out instead ofstudying for our calculus exam. He pulled, the terrified, Kat offof me and told her to leave his house. That was the last time I saw her. My mother tried to defend me, tried to help by getting between us and talking sense into him. He grabbed her and when I went to help, he pushed me into the wall. All ofthe air left my lungs, and as I crumpled to the floor he pulled her out of my room and locked the door. I remember hearing her howls and cries and the crack of the belt from my helpless position. The day the courts legalized same-sex mar- riage was the day everything started to change. Eyen though I was single, my mother, brother, and I sat in the living room all day planning my imaginary wedding. When my dad got home from work the violence started again. He told me I was eighteen and he did not have to put up with my disobedience any longer. I went to my room and packed my bags like he’d told me to. My six-year— old brother went to pack a bag too, but that resulted in more beatings for him and my mother. As I rolled my carry-on down the driveway I vowed to come back for them as soon as I could afford an apartment. There are not many high-payingjobs for homeless people, but there are some. My six months on the streets as an escort made me tougher. I like the term escort better than any ofthe other alternatives for my occupation. It feels more profes- sional. My first night on the streets I met Max, my boss so to speak. I was walking to the alley by the theater because that’s where they threw out the old popcorn, and I knew I’d be safe. He was leaning against the theater almost hidden behind a swarm of well-dressed men and women trying to catch the attention ofpassers—by. “’earing a purple suit and top hat that concealed greasy hair almost to his shoulders he stood there waiting for someone like me to come along. “You look a little down on your luck, missy,” he said. “That’s because I am,” I made no eye contact. “I run a business and I think you’d be a real asset.” I stopped. “\Vhat kind ofbusiness?” “You could call it part ofthe service industry. My employees provide clients with their company." He made a little motion with his hips and smiled. “That’s not ajob. Cross.” I started walking again, but he followed. “You make the rules. Food and accommoda- tions are courtesy ofthe clients. It’s not always sex, you know.” “You’d never want a girl like me." “Well what exactly is wrong with you? Got some kind ofdisease or something? There‘s always something.” “No. It'sjust that I‘m only interested in wom- en." “Is that all?" He laughed so hard a man pass- ing on the sidewalk looked over. “You be surprised by the size ofthat market." “I don‘t want to do it forever. Just until I can afford an apartment for three people.” 103 Show less
FRESH WHITE NOISE Lindsey LaCasse A plethora of Praise Fresh Air in August. Morning News. White noise. Overcome by the Symptoms Personally responsible. Profound Explorations, Deepest Cultural Anxieties. Ideal setting for Controversy You choose your Commonality. A different idea The complications... Show moreFRESH WHITE NOISE Lindsey LaCasse A plethora of Praise Fresh Air in August. Morning News. White noise. Overcome by the Symptoms Personally responsible. Profound Explorations, Deepest Cultural Anxieties. Ideal setting for Controversy You choose your Commonality. A different idea The complications and the Contradictions The bad. The good, The end. 89 Show less
NEON SOUL Lindsey LaCasse I feel magical. Together we're Just sitting. Coffee reveals Influence and identity. Pamions unbound. Global myriad of ideas and Branching interpretations Encompas an array thfllSClVCS. “Neon soul”, Traditional and virtual. Returned alter a five year stint, likmvise, relaxed... Show moreNEON SOUL Lindsey LaCasse I feel magical. Together we're Just sitting. Coffee reveals Influence and identity. Pamions unbound. Global myriad of ideas and Branching interpretations Encompas an array thfllSClVCS. “Neon soul”, Traditional and virtual. Returned alter a five year stint, likmvise, relaxed. Still growing I Want more I didn’t want Rance me Not to be afraid. Cut teeth with Pedomtanee. Incorporated and opened Energy to explore. The pace and expanse, The city, Proved a positive forte, more Momentum. Experimental and risk-taking. Something that doesn’t fit, Mixing the pain. Now, Strange sounds, Spheres of mixing sourtes At the right place, 13 Show less
TO FLY WITH STARS Elisabeth Beam I stomped out of the house and walked briskly towards my bike lying abandoned in the middle of the yard. “Adam get the fuck back in Ilene!” I ignored the angry shout and hopped on my bike. “Fuckin faggot!” I began peddling furiously leaving behind my drunken step... Show moreTO FLY WITH STARS Elisabeth Beam I stomped out of the house and walked briskly towards my bike lying abandoned in the middle of the yard. “Adam get the fuck back in Ilene!” I ignored the angry shout and hopped on my bike. “Fuckin faggot!” I began peddling furiously leaving behind my drunken step-father and the hell he wrought on my life. I verged off the road and followed the beaten path into the forest. At this time of night it was devoid of all the high school kids getting drunk and high. I ducked as a branch loomed over my head. I hardly had to look at the path to know I was going the right way. My body went on autopilot leading me towards the creek as my head drifted up towards the clouds. I used to be happy. Nathan and I used to sneak out here when the world had gone to sleep and all there was were the stats and drizzling creek, We would strip down to our underwear and run into the water, laughing joyously, splashing all over the place. The creek was our safe haven; a place we could go to escape the hatred the world threw at us. I slowed down my pace as the fluid sounds of the creek drew near. The waterfall wasn’t far away; my body tensed. One night a few weeks ago Nathan had gotten the crazy idea in his mind that if we jumped off the waterfall we’d go up and fly with the stars. He had planted kisses up and down my neck, trying to convince me. Each kiss had been a flash of desire and longing. I had known Nathan since birth. Our parents had been best friends in high school, and exactly 9 months after their graduation Nathan and I entered the world kicking and screaming in unison. Our parents had planned to have us around the same time, hoping we’d be as close as they were. Obviously they hadn’t planned on us becoming so close. My bike skidded to a halt; the thunderous noise of the waterfall had been growing and growing until I stood right in front of the cascading falls. I sun’eyed them with a frown, the mist nose from the edge of the falls drifting upwards toward the stats lingering above me. It felt as if they were watching 29 Show less
THE WALL OF IMMUTABLE PLEASURES Erik Moore Martin‘s feet began to bother him as the evening went on, moving from an uncomfortable nuisance to a throbbing and finally to sharp bone pains. This wasn’t uncommon for Martin Especially with today’s occasion he had been on his feet since before first... Show moreTHE WALL OF IMMUTABLE PLEASURES Erik Moore Martin‘s feet began to bother him as the evening went on, moving from an uncomfortable nuisance to a throbbing and finally to sharp bone pains. This wasn’t uncommon for Martin Especially with today’s occasion he had been on his feet since before first light of day. Seeking Asylum from his aches, Martin found his way upstairs in typical covert fash- ion. Several guests will be on the balcony, Martin guessed as he passed by the hallway leading toward the double doors and large windows overlooking the rear of the estate. \Vhere can I find a place to rest? Not the drawing room, that would risk me being discovered in my desertion of duty. Ah, that’s it! The dressing room, nobody will be there until later this evening, Martin decided in his desperate retreat. Martin casually plucked a lit lamp of? one of the ta- bles in the long hallway to guide his way to comfort. The click of the door shutting behind him sounded the chance to find relief on the leather lounge of the dressing room. Martin kicked off his 62 stifT shoes as he leaned back and elevated his legs re- leasing a deep sigh as his tortured feet breathed the perfumed air. Martin looked at himself stretched out on the sofa in the dressing mirror acres from him, his neatly combed and greased back hair shown in the dim light. Martin, small in stature looked nearly childlike in the reflection. His size hadn’t bothered him growing up, his personality seemed to form around it. Most people neverjudged him as a threat which allowed him to take advantage of many situations in which he was given far too much trust. Tonight for instance, Luc had given him autonomy of duty, there was no one to answer to except for his masters and the few requests of the guests. Or when he was given charge of ordering wine for the cellar, there always happened to be a few extra bottles lying around, begging to be slipped into his quarters. Thinking of wine, Martin raised an eyebrow at him- self in the mirror. He spotted a decanter of red wine on a table over his shoulder. Why not? He thought, Show less
