Archive for the ‘2014 — 6.2 (Spring)’ Category

Obsidian


21 Apr

By Sean Henry

A hero is what he thought, watching the Asoles from a safe distance.

“Awesome, they are blessed,” said Clay.

He took a deep breath and made such a serious face that Iris giggled in amusement. He had become a master of mimicry.

”Things aren’t always what they seem Clay,” Said Iris.

Clay was still somewhere between constipation and concentration.

“Clay knock it off, you look like you’re gonna shit yourself,” said Iris.

“Shhh Iris,” said Clay ducking back behind the corner. He would be mortified if anyone from his waste station heard her.

“I have to work here,” said Clay.

“I want you home soon. I have something for you,” said Iris.

“They’re having the initiation ceremony at the courts and I wanted to go see,” said Clay

Clay was obsessed with the Asoles. They had power, status and nobody fucked with the Asoles.

Asoles were guards, a warrior caste hand selected by the pyres. The seven Pyres were a mystery. At the age of twenty it was mandatory that people entered into a lottery where if one was chosen they would be initiated into the sect. After initiation they give their soul to the pyres in which it is said that they grant the initiate with immortality. The Asoles wore elaborate helmets that covered them from the shoulders up able to morph into the shape of facial characteristics of whatever beast they chose and never showed their face.

“Stay away from the courts,” said Iris. She loathed the Asoles, cursed them under her breath anytime she could. Clay just chalked it up to her being a little crazy.

“Maybe we could have story night tonight,” said Clay. She immediately perked up. Clay knew how to make her happy.

“Dear boy you are going to become a great one,” said Iris

As a boy Iris would tell him stories of the world before the pyres. Clay loved the stories but Iris would sometimes tell stories in parables or riddles which annoyed the hell out of Clay.

“The resistance is close and I need you at my side tonight,” said Iris. Her eyes were pulsating and wild, constantly twitching and spookier than usual.

“I will be home soon Iris,” said Clay.

“I know,” said Iris, “ashes to ashes.” She smiled and walked away.

“Fuck that, I’m trying to live forever,” said Clay

He wanted no part in the resistance. On his way to the courts he arrived at the courtyard where Iris had told him a secret design had been etched into a mosaic wall. He had been intrigued by this story for quite some time. All the walls were marked with geometrical lines and shapes, no logos or living creatures were pictured on any of the markings. The pyres outlawed logos or idols or anything pertaining to living creatures of the outside world. Clay sat staring at that mosaic wall for what seemed to be an eternity, but it was only a few hours.

Before Clay could make out any form from the multitude of lines in the wall, his breath was knocked out of him by a large explosion a hundred or so yards away. Shards of alloy and stone rained all around him as a shower of sparks fell from the dome above, followed by the sounds of lasers and a plethora of deafening crackling from the Asoles’ weapons.

“Terrorist,” Said one of the Asoles. “Heresy,” said another

Body’s scattered all around Clay, scurrying away from the violence. Ten yards away an Asoles pounced on and completely devoured one resistance fighter alive, tearing him apart and leaving only a pile of bile where he stood.

Clay had never seen or heard of anything like this. He balled up cowering in the corner waiting for a time to escape, once he finally had the opportunity he darted for the shaft that lead for the tunnel which lead back to the pits. When Clay got back to Iris he could barely breathe. Iris looked pale with fright.

“Goodness Clay, where did you go? Did anyone follow you back here?” said Iris.

“No I took the tunnels.” said Clay.

“Here I have to give you something,” said Iris. Iris handed him a black glass cube. “This is an obsidian cube, Take this back to the mosaic and find that lotus carved in the lines,” said Iris.

“I didn’t see no lotus in the design, I looked for hours,” said Clay. “I can’t go back you wouldn’t believe what I saw. I will die for sure.”

“Look harder and take this cube and insert it into the middle, you will see the red ruby glow and when you do push the button,” said Iris.

“What’s going on? I don’t understand,” said Clay.

“There’s no time to explain. I wrote a letter and I put it in your coat, take the obsidian and go,” said Iris.

Just as he reached the tunnels he could hear Iris’s screams echoing down the halls… a terrifying shriek that rattled his bones and gave him shivers. Clay’s heart was in his stomach, but he ran as fast as he could. When he made it to the mosaic he did just as Iris instructed. The red stone illuminated upon touching it and the wall unraveled at the lines like the untying of a knot. He ducked into the dark crevice and slid down underground tubes which lead him to a spiraling staircase. After reaching the top of the staircase he could see it, the eye gloriously ablaze massive in size like a doorway with a fixed stare on Clay. Clay was drawn to the spherical phenomenon. The center looked as if it were liquid gold. Clay was so frozen with fear that he forgot to breathe. The seven pyres came out of the shadows and towered over him. They must have been 9 feet tall and didn’t make a sound. Something about the pyres told Clay that they were just as scared of him as Clay was of it. There was nowhere else to go accept through the eye. Instantly Clay bolted past the tall demonic creatures towards the mercurial eye, chucked the cube into the center, closed his eyes and leapt.

Clay was blinded, flashes of white and red light exploded around his face. He could feel his hair getting singed a burning sensation throughout his entire body followed by an aching cold.

Iris he screamed, over and over he screamed for her but to no prevail. He knew that she was dead and now so was he. In a millisecond a life time of woes he cried. He thought of his failure and shame. He will never know the truth and he had let Iris down and how pathetic his whole existence had been such a waste. His body kicked and flailed in agony and pain as torturous images flickered in his mind.

###

Clay was embarrassed when he realized he was still alive. His body was not used to the atmosphere and the sun. What began as his violent death became an orgasmic overload of the senses. His eyes began to adjust enabling him to see the multitude of hues he never knew existed, colors so vibrant it electrified his mind. All at once, new and exotic textures surrounded him with warmth as aromatics tickled him to his loins.

There where trees everywhere and the sky was stunning. Clay was on his knees in awe. He looked around and right in front of him was the black cube. He crouched forward and placed his forehead on the cube then whispered something softly to himself before he got up and began to walk, wandering aimlessly into a small opening in the forest where it dipped into a valley. On the other side he could see a crevice in the side of a mountain, so he ran there in fear of the Asoles. Clay followed that canyon until it came to an opening so he decided to rest, and remembered the letter in his jacket.

###

Dear Clayborne,

The seven pyres are seven evil spirits that haunt men from times of old. There is a great war to resist them for they are only inspired by fear. The Asoles are the lifeless, those without a soul. They have cast a spell on men so that they may cultivate a weapon made of the souls of men, to rule the world and live forever, but they have already lost, though they don’t know it. The Vile creatures imprisoned our kingdom long ago. Most will try to appease them but their thirst is unquenchable. I have painfully held this from you while I watched you grow, watch you secretly lust for the evil that lies waiting like a viper to snatch you from the way to truth. This realm like the next is an illusion. You have the key to all the doors don’t be afraid. Find our kin you will know them by their armor. They will help you on your way. You are not alone. I love you.

Sincerely, Iris

PS. If that doesn’t piss you off, they have been feeding us recycled human waste.

Clay didn’t even have time to take it all in before he was startled by dark figures closing in on him. Clay leapt to combat action mode with a murderous spark of rage in his eye.

“Asoles been feeding me shit my whole life,” said Clay.

Clay raised the obsidian cube above his head in a striking stance ready to wage war on the Asoles. The figures wore black obsidian scaled armor with gold trim. The armor was so magnificent that it would have put the Asoles to shame they looked glorious shimmering in the setting sun all the colors of the sky trapped like a rainbow in an obsidian prism.

The men were gracious recognizing the black box Clay held in his hands.

A faint buzz slowly escalated into a roar as a swarm of Asoles came out of the earth the sound vibrated all the bodies of the men in obsidian. They were fearless. They all lined up ready for the inevitable slaughter. Some even had grins.

“Welcome home brother,” said one man in jest. He offered up some armor to Clay but Clay fashioned himself a cloak made of some linens and wool he found. Clay then stepped to the front of the men.

“Ashes to ashes,” said Clay. Then he laughed an uncontrollable howl and led the charge.

The thunderous clash of opposing forces shook the planet to its very core and with a flash of light the Asoles were vanished like vapors in a light breeze.

Clay turned toward his brethren.

“A figment of my imagination,” said Clay

The Obsidians were astonished, in hysterics having never witnessed such a miraculous feat; they accredited Clay with being of royal bloodline. The tribe shouted and began to celebrate and dance around. They praised Clay for his escape and bravery called him a hero.

Clay just sat on his legs with his hands clenching the earth, eyes on the horizon, hypnotized in thought.

1911


21 Apr

By Daniel Cadogan

I never killed a man before and I didn’t plan to when I woke up on the seventeenth of June, but sometimes things don’t go as planned. I woke up that morning with every intention of going to my first ever family reunion and having a nice time getting absolutely plastered, yelling at the fat bitch who identified herself as “Auntie Carole”, and making some horrible mistakes regarding my genitalia and a distant cousin or two.

I dragged myself out of bed the morning before and got in the shower with a bottle of Guinness to loosen myself up. Everyone needs a little pre-game before the super bowl, right? I dragged myself to my closet and picked out a decent outfit for the day. I rummaged past Armani suits and tuxedoes for every occasion. I tossed aside thousand dollar loafers and managed to find a pair of oxfords I didn’t mind getting a little dirty. The click-clack of the sole against my hardwood floors made my heart flutter. I checked my phone and saw 37 missed calls from my business partner about an increase in our investments and I just smiled while he was probably running circles around his house screaming at the top of lungs about the extra five hundred thousand we made off with. Chump change if you ask me.

I’d never been to a family reunion before even though we had them yearly. My family consisted of good decent country folk and backwoods hicks alike. I liked the country folk, I hated the hicks. But this year was the first year we’d have a reunion without a grandpa and I felt it would only be respectful for me to show up at least.

I would catch my flight at 12:30 and then drive into the countryside from there. My bags had been packed the night before by Julia and everything was in order. I grabbed the last bit of paperwork and stuffed it into my carry-on bag alongside a couple notebooks and a deck of cards. I walked downstairs and Julia greeted me as she was cleaning.

“Calvin, everything is ready to go. I left your suitcase by the door last night so you can grab it on your way out,” she said. Her eyes twinkled in the morning light. Julia had been staying with me for two years as a live-in maid and she is an absolute angel. Her cooking is fit for kings, she never leaves a spot of dust anywhere in the house, and on occasion, she puts out. But this morning I didn’t have the time to spare for a quickie on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Julia, I’ll be back in four days. The house is all yours until then. Live like a queen,” I said. I kissed her on the cheek and she giggled. I ran out the door and into my car and drove to the airport, mentally preparing myself to see my family in just a few hours.

###

“Look here, the safety’s on the right side, just above the trigger. Just click it in and you’re ready to fire. You see red on the safety? You’re good to shoot,” Jimmy said, showing me his brand new 1911 pistol.

“Sure is something, Jimmy. How she shoot?” I replied. Home for just a couple hours and my backwoods drawl was coming back to me already.

“Shoots just fine, especially for a handgun. Nailed a bowling pin at 50 yards. You really like her, huh?” Jimmy said with a smile across his face.

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful gun. You’re almost getting me back into my old fascination for them again.”

“Well,” Jimmy started, “I missed your birthday last year and I was just thinking about how you and me used to go hunting up on pap’s old land in the hills and, well, I got you one just like it.” Jimmy reached back onto the couch behind him and pulled out a box and opened it. Inside was an identical gun with a belt holster just like his.

“My god Jimmy, you really didn’t have to do this. This had to cost a fortune.”

“Hey, it ain’t nothing. After pap died, I was just thinking about how we haven’t really talked much in a while and I thought it might be a good way open that door again.” I almost started tearing up.

“Thanks Jimmy. This really means a lot to me.” I strapped the holster to my belt and shoved the gun inside. “So, how’s it look on me?”

“Pretty damn weird. Not many people around here are carrying a handgun in their dress slacks and a nice tie.” Jimmy started laughing. “Man, we have to work this rich boy shit out of your system by the time you head back home.” Some of my family seemed to resent me for leaving our hometown and actually making something of myself, but Jimmy was always proud of me. He was my older cousin by three years and he always looked after me.

###

The next day we went out to the farmhouse about two miles away where grandma was living and we would meet up with the rest of the family there. I had my new gun strapped to my hip, just like Jimmy. When we arrived, I saw all the usual people there. Aunts, uncles, cousins, all sorts of people I never really cared about. And arriving a little late to the party was a man with graying hair and a younger girl about mine and Jimmy’s age.

I turned to Jimmy and said, “Hey man, who’s that? I know we got a big family, but I know I don’t recognize that guy.”

“Well,” he said, “you haven’t been home in a good while so you missed some things. The guy is apparently pap’s third cousin or something. Long lost for some reason, but he found out he was related to us and asked if he could meet us all. We welcomed him to the family. He’s a decent fellow if not a bit stuffy. Say, you might just get along with him great.” Jimmy laughed at his own wit and I couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“So who’s the girl? His daughter? Granddaughter? Prostitute and he’s her sugar daddy?” I asked.

“Granddaughter, I think. They’re very religious folk, she’s supposed to go off to a convent next summer. Not sure if it’s true, but the rumor amongst kin is that he’s forcing her to go and she don’t want to.”

“You don’t say. She’s pretty. I’d go chat her up if she wasn’t my cousin.”

“Hey now, she’s your fifth cousin at best. Now, take this with a grain of salt as I am just some incestuous hick, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s fair game.”

“You’re right, you are an incestuous hick. But you make a good point.”

I walked over to introduce myself to our new family members. As I approached, the girl seemed to move back while her father sized me up and greeted me with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve met you before,” he said, “my name’s Andy and this is my granddaughter Jessie.” Jessie reached out her hand and curtseyed like we were in the Antebellum South.

“Pleased to meet you two, my name’s Calvin. Always nice to have more family coming in.” Jessie eyed me from behind her father. He never lost that grin all night.

###

The rest of the party went well. We got drunk, we sang around a bonfire, I even found my old guitar in grandma’s attic and played some songs. And yes, at some point during the duration of the night, I yelled at Auntie Carole for being a lazy bitch with a disability check every month just because she’s fat. As the party was winding down, everyone seemed a bit too hammered to notice much of anything, but I noticed Jessie staring at me from across the fire. She was sitting next to Jimmy. She turned to him and whispered something in his ear. He smiled and she giggled. He stood up and walked over to me.

“Listen man,” Jimmy said, “Jessie says to meet her in the barn behind grandma’s house in five minutes. Don’t worry, her dad’s in the house bullshitting with the older guys. He won’t know a thing.”

“Keep him occupied if you can. I’ll make every second count.”

“You got it, Cal.” Jimmy walked toward the house to keep Andy inside. I waited for Jessie to slip away and I followed after. We ran into the barn and slid in through the doorway. We didn’t even exchange words and she pushed me onto a pile of hay and shoved her tongue in my mouth. She began unbuttoning her very conservative blouse as I tried to take off my shirt as well.

And then my phone rang. My goddamned phone rang. I grabbed it out my pocket. It was Julia. Before I even had a chance to answer, Jessie snatched it and threw it into the hay next to us and proceeded to act in a way that a prospective nun definitely should not. Just as she grabbed my pants, there was a pounding at the door.

“Jessie,” Andy said from the other side of the door, “you in there?” Jessie nearly jumped out of her skin and placed her hand on my mouth.

“Who the hell’s in there? I heard something and Jessie ain’t out by the fire.” The pounding grew heavier and more frantic. “Goddammit, you let me in right now.” Andy was shouting by this point. The door flew open and Andy stood there with a revolver in his hand.

“What the hell is going on here?” he said. He grabbed Jessie by her hair and threw her to the ground behind him. “I knew it, you’re a whore just like you’re goddamned mother.” He pointed the gun at me. “Kiss your ass goodbye, boy.” Andy cocked the revolver and walked closer to me and the barrel almost touched my forehead.

I didn’t even think about it. I pulled the 1911 out of the holster and shot Andy three times in the chest. He tumbled backwards, lifeless. Jessie began to sob uncontrollably. Smoke poured out of the end of my gun.

In the Library


21 Apr

By Megan Finsel

She stanched the bleeding with a piece of silk torn from her skirts and looked into his eyes. They were shining like stars in the darkness cast by the forest canopy.

“You’ve saved my life,” he whispered and touched her cheek.

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “Well, far be it from me to miss an adventure. You’re insane, thinking you could fight him alone.” she chided.

He began to sit up but she stopped him, afraid the movement would worsen the bleeding. His bewildered gaze was fixed upon her. “Margaret,” he began, but she kept her face turned away and refused to look at him. “I am indebted to you.”

“Rubbish.” She shook her head. “You owe me nothing. It was a lucky shot.”

“Right, a direct shot from between two trees and over my shoulder,” he said, “indeed, that was quite lucky.”

She tried to ignore the body lying nearby, bearing an arrow identical to those in her quiver. Instead she focused on applying constant pressure to his wounded arm, where the ogre’s sword had slashed him below the elbow.

“I did what any friend would do.” she said simply.

He touched her lips. “You know, you are more than a friend to me, my darling.”

She looked up at him then and felt her heart pinch inside her, causing her actual pain. It took all her focus to tie the two ends of the makeshift bandage to his arm. It was already beginning to bleed through.

“You need a physician.”

“I think I’ll survive. You’ve kept me alive for this long already.” As his lips traced her earlobe she turned and pressed her face against his neck, aware of his fingers following along her spine.

“Maggie!” The voice was distant but she still startled at it.

“What is it?”

“They’re calling me back.” She told him and felt a sob rising in her throat.

“You have to leave now?”

She groaned and laid her forehead against his chest, drawing him closer to her. “I wish I could stay.”

He pulled her into his lap. “But won’t you consider it?”

She knew she could always come visit him, but she could never stay for long. After all, I do not belong here in his world, she thought. I belong out there, in the real world, where life is hard and happily ever after isn’t guaranteed.

Lifting her face to look into his own he rested his forehead against hers and wisps of his hair brushed her skin. “I understand.”

“Do you?” She searched his face for any hints of sadness or disappointment.

He showed both of these, as he returned her gaze, and his fingertips traced the curve of her cheek. But he said, “Yes, I understand.”

“Are you upset?” she asked, finding she feared upsetting him more than the thought of leaving.

“I hate to see you go,” he admitted, “but I could never be upset with you. I am as much a part of you as you are a part of me. It would be difficult to separate us forever.”

She accepted the first of his kisses and tried to ignore their calls. But as their voices grew louder, she felt herself growing fainter in his arms. Finally she drew away and gazed down at his chest, tracing the intricate emblem of his kingdom embroidered upon his vest.

“I have to go now,” she said softly.

He sighed. “If you must leave me then I shall say farewell.” he whispered, “but not goodbye, for goodbye is final. Farewell means we will meet again.”

Tears choked her throat as she rested her chin upon his shoulder. “Farewell, Prince Leif.” she whispered. “I will return when I can.”

“Maggie, where are you?”

Reluctantly she closed the book, caressed the cover, and placed it upon the shelf, his kisses still lingering on her lips. “I’m in the library.”

 

 

Bio: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person aroused through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂

How to Avoid Heartbreak


21 Apr

By Moriah Luiz

Don’t tell anyone that you like him. Hide the fact that you like him. Put on a fake smile and force a laugh if necessary. Do keep yourself guarded. Don’t let him know the truth. Don’t think about him. Don’t look at him. Stop day dreaming about him. Find a hobby to keep you busy so you don’t think about him. Don’t let your mind wander. Stay away from his girlfriend. Don’t talk to his friends. When he talks to you act nonchalant. Laugh at his jokes but only a little. Avoid him in the halls and in the lunch room. If you see him in the halls or in the lunch room look the other way or look busy. Don’t make it obvious that you are avoiding him. Don’t become friends with him. Stay away from events where he might be there. Don’t to go to any events. Don’t go to the football games or the bonfires. Don’t meet his parents. Don’t date him. Don’t date any of his friends. Don’t become friends with his girlfriend. Do focus on school and other things. Do stay home on weekends or have other plans. Do always be busy or have an excuse if he asks you out. Do spend lots of time with your friends and make plans with them. Do spend lots of time with your family. Don’t confront him. Don’t let him confront you. Don’t get a job where he works. Don’t go to the place where he works. Do get a job that’s far away from where he works. Don’t work up front where he can see you if he walks by. Don’t hang out with him. Don’t hang out with his girlfriend or his friends. Don’t get excited when he calls your name. Don’t give him your number. Don’t let him give you his number. Don’t call him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about not thinking about him and just let it go. Think of something else. Do forget about him. Do move on. Don’t develop a crush on someone else. Don’t talk to anybody else. Don’t look at anyone else. Don’t think about anyone else. Don’t become friends with anyone else. Don’t date. Don’t hang out with anybody. Don’t think about dating anyone else. Do find other things to take up your time and to keep you really busy. Do find another hobby. Do be busy all the time. Don’t let your mind wander. Do focus on other things. Do take harder classes with lots of homework and other assignments. Do keep your guard up. Do Follow all of these instructions and do exactly as they say. Don’t forget these instructions. Do make copies and keep one with you at all times. Do prepare for the worst. Do all of this and you might just avoid getting your heartbroken and having your world turned upside down.

Tears of an Angel


21 Apr

By: Kelsey Irene Bronkema

Silent drops fall

From emerald eyes

 

Shoulders shaking

With wracking sighs

 

I hold my mother

As she cries

 

“Mama,” my Nana

As she upward flies

 

 

Germaphobia


21 Apr

By: Monica Tamayo

 

Dirty is my enemy

The coughing and sneezing of others, sickens me.

The sense of cleansing and sanitizing is never satisfying,

But contamination is defying.

A sick person’s breath often haunts me,

Taunts me,

And flaunts itself upon me.

A spray of Lysol isn’t enough,

A single drop of hand sanitizer is a bluff.

The compulsion of washing and cleaning ten times every hour,

Could be foolish,

But the sensation bacteria and fungus revolving around me,

Is revolting.

Just the thought of bacteria, diseases and viruses,

Sinks my stomach,

Like the Titanic,

sinking and wrecking into icebergs.

Sanitation for others,

Maybe isn’t assembled,

But me, without it,

Causes Dante’s Inferno to tremble.

I live with 50 bottles of Lysol piled up in my closet,

50 hand sanitizers in my drawers,

And 50 soaps in my cabinet.

You sneeze, I’ll run and scrub away.

You cough, I’ll run and grab my bottle Lysol.

Call me Germaphobia.

 

Petrified


21 Apr

By: Lindsay Victoria Peters

8 cups darkness, plain

3 ounces shuffling

6 quarts knocking, loudly

2 tablespoons whispering, repeat until softened

5 quick flashes of light

1 teaspoon slowly dripping water

 

Boil the shuffling until closer to you, then quickly shut it off and let it simmer on low.

Gently add in your knocking until it turns to a banging then run to the corner of your room.

Slowly mix in your darkness and whispering until you can’t take it anymore.

Stir in your dripping water and your quick flashes of light until you’re slowly shaking on the floor.

Bring it all to a boil, then let it cool off.

Yield: One horrible night sleep

 

Bio: My name is Lindsay, I’m 21 and currently attending SCF in hopes of being accepted into the Dental Hygiene program. I grew up in Port Charlotte with one brother and one sister and I have an enormous passion for animals.

Hearts


21 Apr

By: Megan Finsel

Hearts,

like windowpanes,

shatter,

broken fragments on the floor,

scatter,

catching bits of light,

blood-red spilling rays across the flight.

Down the stairs,

pooling on my

floor.

Is there no puzzle piecer present to piece the broken puzzle back together?

Is there no adhesive with which to bind the fragments to one another;

mending what might be lost forever?

Or will they lay there for eternity

bits and pieces,

sentiments,

scattered on the tile?

Will they remain defiled on the floor?

Forlorn.

Bio: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person aroused through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂

Staff Page


21 Apr

Megan Finsel:

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Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person smile through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂
    
Brandie Hyde:

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Words that could easily be used to describe the way past two years have gone and the trend that seems to be continuing are: complicated, challenging, colorful… those are the most polite ways I can think of to put it. But as the saying goes “life goes on”. The only words of wisdom I have to offer are these: NO relationship is worth putting your education “on hold”. PLEASE finish what you start! Live your lives as though they were one big adventure, and as often as possible, without regret.
    
Daniel Flood:

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Hi I’m Daniel,
I decided to take Magazine Production because I wanted to see how people write, how they feel when they write. I wanted to understand the idea of writing poetry and short stories, and being able to be a part of a Literacy Magazine online is awesome. Also my girlfriend dragged me into the class lol, but it has its perks. As for me I don’t write much. I would like to start up again one day with the added a billion other things I want to do. But I read a lot of books and love criminal justice, Police, Military movies. I’m a guy which means l love guns, Asian boys, cars, women, especially my girlfriend 😉 in my heart I love protecting people, and one day I’ll be a Police Officer. This means i will be doing three things, Serving the People, Keeping the peace and upholding the law. Granted the law is not perfect but I want to be that police officer that you see in movies where everybody loves and willing to help and serve people. Music is a Passion as well from Orchestra, Rock, and Country. Another passion of mine is gaming, I have a Xbox 360 a ps3 and well I temporary computer that I play games on. On a good note my girlfriend wants me to get into Taekwondo, which I can’t tell is a bonus or not, hopefully I don’t make her mad and we start sparing the kitchen or something like in the movies lol Like Mr. and Mrs. Smith =P. My Favorite color is blue, and my dream car is a 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback, like from the movie Gone In 60 Seconds, the gray and Black Stripe Eleanor

Well that’s it. That is what you ought to know about me

Now please leave

    
Moriah Luiz:

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Hi Everyone , I’m Moriah
I am a hard working dedicated student who loves writing. I think that writing is the best way for a person to express themselves and I find that it is also very therapeutic as well. In addition to being a part of Elektraphrog I am also an Active member of swamp Scribes the schools creative writing club. I will become a teacher after the end of my academic career.
    
Patricia McGraw:

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Aries, INTJ, O positive; if any of that means anything to describe myself. Female, 20, likes long walks on the beach.. Will be graduating and attending USF for Elementary Education. Holla at yur gurl!

    
Taylor Simensky:

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I am a full time student at SCF, grew up in North Port. After attending SCF, I plan to attend USF to get degrees in English and Music Performance and become a teacher. I enjoy writing fiction as well as poetry. Holla at yo boi

    
    
    

Breaking Promises


21 Apr

By Megan Finsel

When he broke through the morning mist I cocked my gun, ready and waiting. But the first rays of pre-dawn light split the gloom and fell upon his face, and I knew I couldn’t shoot him. Now I was as good as dead.

“We’re going to survive this, I promise.” he had said to me, and I had clung to his words like I did to his hand as we ran, trying not to make a sound. It was one of the first days after this nightmare began; we had been hiding in the trailer park. We had tried to keep in the shadows, but the bonfires they had started made it difficult. Everything had been deserted, the sky dark and the ground burning. They were coming; I could hear their screams in the silence.

When we were curled up inside one of the dark campers with his rifle across our legs, we listened to the wails and howls piercing the quiet.

“Can we afford to make promises?” I had asked him with my head nestled upon his shoulder.

His arms tightened around me, and he turned and put his lips close to my ear, his breath warm and comforting on my skin. “Yes, we need to.” he whispered, and it had been enough to satisfy me.

Days passed like this, the two of us becoming suburban scavengers, warriors in this horrific war. As humanity disintegrated around us, we hung on to one another. That is why we survived for so long.

But when we crept into grocery stores, stealing what we could from the nearly barren shelves, I anticipated the decaying faces that could stumble from around the corners. Fear of them always followed us and I was thankful for it, for it kept us alert and alive. However fear can kill as well as any plague.

We stayed on the move in the camper we’d stolen, never spending two nights in the same place. One evening, somewhere outside of Arizona, I had asked him, “Do you think we’re the only ones left now?” We hadn’t encountered another living human being in almost three weeks.

“I don’t know,” he had replied, and I stifled a sob. Taking me into his arms, he cradled me in his lap and held me against his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, the steady pounding of another living soul, the sign that he was still mine. I cherished that sound.

“If anything happens to either of us,” he said, “I want you to know that I will love you until the world ends.”

“But the world is ending,” I had begun to cry.

“No it hasn’t, not yet,” he said, “Because you are still here. You are my world.” and he had kissed me through my tears.

Crossing the country together, hiding from them and from the fear within us, wasn’t nearly as difficult as it had been at first. We were together, a small family, but a family nonetheless.

That was, until, our little family fell apart.

We had made promises to one another, all probably foolish, but meaningful at the time. He promised me the house on the lake I had always wanted and I promised him children with eyes and hair as dark as his. We also promised to shoot each other, if either of us became infected. But that was a promise I desperately hoped I wouldn’t have to keep.

Now I knew that I couldn’t, even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t keep that promise. Now that the time had come I could only lean against the tree and watch as he stumbled toward me, shrieking and crying, his eyes dead, his mouth hanging open.

There were large bald spots on his head where his beautiful hair had been ripped out, and what was still intact was clumped with mud and debris. His face was ashen and spattered with dark blotches, probably blood; it was most likely not his. His veins bulged, swollen beneath translucent skin, like blue spider webs crisscrossing his body. His arms, which always held me so close, swung limply at his sides. His fingers, which had always touched me so tenderly, twitched abnormally. His shirt hung on his body in tatters; could he remember me buying it for him last year?

Deep inside that decaying body, could he remember who he was? Who I was? I watched as he began to run to me and I tried to pretend that he recognized me and my heart gave a tiny jolt of hope, which quickly died. There was wildness in his eyes which I had never seen, desperation; hunger much different than how he used to look at me, before all of this happened. Before our world fell apart.

I watched him turn his head in an unnatural angle, his stride jerking sharply. This was not the man I had fallen in love with in high school; the man who I had given my heart to or the man I was destined to marry.

He was coming, closer and closer and in that moment I knew I wouldn’t kill him. I pressed myself against the tree and slowly let my shotgun slip through my fingers. It landed in the grass by my foot. He shrieked. My heart pounded. I felt his hands grab me by the shoulders, slamming me into the trunk; he had never been rough with me before. I looked into his bloodshot eyes and realized he would never recognize me again. His mouth opened; a stench of rotting flesh on his breath.

I wondered, in the last moments, if it was weak of me to not have been able to shoot him. No, this is not weakness, I thought, and took comfort in the fact that if I turned out as he had at least we would be together again. I only felt guilty for breaking my promise.

Pain blossomed in my neck, as the infection spread slowly through my veins. I sank against him, falling into the arms of the undead man I had chosen to love instead of kill.

These are the last things I remember from being human, from being alive. What came next I cannot recall. Perhaps he helped me up, took my hand, and together we stumbled off through the woods. Or, perhaps he ate me. I really don’t know.

 

 

Bio: Words have a great power to me. They can evoke emotions, thoughts, and ideas. They can start and end wars, and they can paint pictures. When I learned I could use words to express myself, I realized I had found my passion. Writing is my way to communicate the complex emotions and thoughts that we all tuck away in the recesses of our hearts. And if I can make at least one person smile through my writing, then I know I have done my job 🙂