Archive for the ‘2015 — 7.2 (Spring)’ Category

Human Seed

27 Apr

by Donald Reich

The drops of rain came down like a torrent against the window. The rushing sound like a snare drum counting down, varying as the belts of rain subside and roar. Carleton sat on his favorite chair, a firm green armchair with a floral pattern. The floral pattern was an eyesore but the chair was so comfortable. In his periods of wakefulness, he would confine himself to the chair, resting in its firm caress. The chair faced the window from which he could watch the long dark road in the distance. To his left was the fireplace, it never burned very hot, Nilec would not allow it. She was fearful of the harm which could come to her children in his home. To his right, within his reach, was one of Nilec’s children. She stood two feet tall in a pot with dark soil around her roots. Her branches reached out like hands towards his chair. He would frequently put a mason jar with homemade hooch in her grasp. He could feel her imagining the taste and burn running down her trunk. He had begun to call her Helen, after his first wife, the only one he ever loved. Helen loved him with every fiber of her being. Helen was the first child of Nilec, her sapling had sprung shortly after his offering.

“Helen, how many times have I told you how much I love you?” asked Carleton. He stared her up and down longingly, remembering the curves of her body and the smell of her perfume. Her lingering touch seemed to rest on his heart even after the last one hundred and fifty years.

“Many times, dear, when you sleep it escapes from your lips with every breath.” He could hear her voice in his mind. A secret they both hid from Nilec. For if Nilec ever knew their love continued to burn like fire, she would end Helen’s life. A life he had stolen, for his own selfish gain.

He rose up from the chair and grabbed his watering pail. Four times a day he must water Nilec’s children. Each one a soul, taken by Carleton at the behest of Nilec. A task which confronted him with his guilt concerning their deaths. He always tried to start with a different child every day, their branches reaching forth, beckoning for water. His farmhouse used to be a very spacious and inviting place.

“I think Timothy has waited the whole year to be first. Fitting you should be chosen on your birthday,” said Carleton. He bent down and lightly grasped his son’s leaves. A loving gesture, the only present he could afford his son. He bent the pail ever so slightly, rushing the water out of the spout and into his pot. “I love you, son.”

The weight of the air turned dark and unholy. The moon lost its light and left the glow of the fire in the house. “Nilec is coming,” said Helen. “Her mind is afire with jealousy.”

“Let her come,” said Carleton.

The door seemed to groan inward as Nilec approached. Her dark hand turned the knob as it screamed against her unnatural, perverse touch. The closer she grew to achieving her full strength, the bolder she had become. The door opened slowly as the visage of Helen entered. “Carleton, my love,” said Nilec. “Why have you neglected me? My children can survive for a few days without water. I need another heart.”

“I have run out of children and wives to supply the hearts,” said Carleton. His eyes looking downward in submission. “I cannot find another wife of suitable ancestry. The women of this generation of childbearing age are self-absorbed and more concerned with having careers.” A half-truth in all honesty.

“The fruit of our labor is almost in fruition,” said Nilec. Her dark, sultry eyes tore into his heart. “I saved your life all those years ago. The least you can do is fulfill your end of the bargain. You wanted to live forever, all I ask for is hearts of British descent.”

His mother had saved his life by begging Nilec to grant him a long life as they faced starvation. Nilec is the guardian of the forest which surrounded his family farm. His family had been secluded from the Protestant religion of the earliest settlers from Europe. Nilec granted them food and shelter as they built their home. She had just been a large basswood tree in those days. As the years past, Nilec had begun to have a corporeal being as the number of hearts in her roots grew. During the Revolutionary War, the British had burnt down a large portion of her forest. Her hatred would be eternal for those of British ancestry. A British heart being the toll was her way of revenge.

“Why must you assume Helen’s form?” Carleton asked.

“Her body excites you. Her smile makes you long for me.”

“You torture me!”

Her eyes grew furious at his accusation. “I love you. How could I torture you?” Nilec said.

“How could I not be tortured? My soul is so corrupt, new life dies under my feet as I walk,” said Carleton. “You want to become my Helen. You will never be my Helen!”

“I will be your Helen. She is a part of me just like she is in your heart,” Nilec said. She moved toward his chair. Her eyes rested on Helen as she stood near her. “I have brought every aspect of Helen into my almost complete body.” Her clothes fell away to reveal Helen’s nude body as she ran her hands down it. Inciting his body to action.

He moved toward her as he longed for her body but Helen’s voice stopped him cold. “No, Carleton!”

“What is this?” said Nilec. “Your wife is dead. Just like the others and all of your children! Buried to give me a body for my perfection. You married those women, killed them and their children… for me!”

The tears streamed freely from his eyes as the moment had finally come. He and Helen had spent the last few weeks finding a way to end this. “I have spent the last one hundred and twenty years living with their souls in my home. You turned them into plants as you absorbed their hearts. It was not enough to have me take their lives, I also had to water them and hear them grow. They did not lose their humanity until you finished with them,” said Carleton.

Nilec reached out and grabbed Helen’s branches. “Find me a heart or I kill your wife,” said Nilec.

“No. I must let her go,” said Carleton.

Nilec screamed as she tore Helen’s roots out of her pot.  “Do it, Carleton!” was audible as she was cast into the fire.

“I love you, Helen,” said Carleton.

“Love will not save you, Carleton,” said Nilec. She sat in his favorite chair, naked and beckoning him. “You will be mine.”

He looked her up and down as the visage of Helen fell away from Nilec like a shell. She had ended her possession of Helen’s soul by throwing her into the fire. A vague silhouette was all that remained as Nilec struggled to recover from the loss of vitality. Carleton seized upon her paralysis and begun tearing his children out of their pots while flinging them into the fire.

“What are you doing, my love?” said Nilec. Her form faltering as even more vitality drained from her with every burning root.

“Setting my family free.”

“Stop, we could be free together.”

“I am free,” said Carleton. He had run out of her children and had one last life to take. He reached down and grabbed a can of gasoline he kept under the sink. The cool liquid running over his face and body, ensuring his death. The frail form of Nilec was withering away. He grabbed her and embraced her as the fire engulfed the house.



Bio: I was born in Rodchester, MI. I lived there until the age of 14 until my parents moved our family to FL. We bounced around a little bit during the first year but finally settled in North Port,FL. I attended North Port High School and an alumni of their Thespian Program. I joined the Army after high school and stayed in for four years. After my term, I moved back to North Port to go back to college which is where I am now. I will be graduating this semester and moving on to USF, where I will be attaining my Social Science Secondary Education Degree.

My Father’s Mother’s Father’s Cousin

27 Apr

By Gonzo

My grandmother’s father has
a cousin who kept a diary.
On it is scribbled an odd looking star
and the first word in it is “Agony.”

It tells of seeing the body of his brother
mangled and pale in the snow
as a German soldier shouted out
“You reap what you sow.”

He lived on scraps from the table
taking their sad dog’s place.
Soon enough they ate the dog, too.
His mom told him to eat at a slow pace.

There are a few words about a camp
with a drawing of a high metal fence.
His uncle left a month before he did and
he learned why they hadn’t heard from him since.

There is a great deal of talk
of being sore and rather cold
and sharing beds with six other boys
as the floor was reserved for the old.

A page is torn out in the middle
and I later learn why.
It was used as a bandage when
his former grocer lost his eye.

He made it out alive
sometime the following year.
Though his mother was lost he was
strong for his father and shed not a tear.


Bio: My name is Logan Gonzalez and I am a freshman at SCF Bradenton Campus. I’m currently trying to obtain my A.A. and figure out what I want to do as far as a major. I have a great love for writing and have been something of a story-teller for as long as I can remember. I’ve used those skills for making up excuses as to why I’ve been late to class or forgot a friend’s birthday in the past, but hopefully wish to make a career with them some day.


27 Apr

By Clint Theron

Whispering wonderfully, we reminisce over the time
when you were casually mooning
over that Mexican boy wearing a green
hoodie.  Hur-rawr-doh?  I never can pronounce it right.
It beats lying sprawled out on the couch, eating Sun Chips
and getting stoned.

But hey, I don’t throw stones,
and if you ever make the time
for me, we should go out and get some fish and chips.
Or play miniature golf when the moon
is bright, like when we were kids.  But right
now I’m lurking outside your house in my green

Ford Escort.  Just kidding, I’m not that green
with envy.  Instead, I’m at the beach, kicking pebbles and stones
with someone less entertaining than you and pretending everything is all right.
I look at my watch to see the time.
Midnight?  The moon
is way too bright, it burns my flesh.  I need ice chips

to cool my temperature.  I realize you’re a chip
off the old block, you dyed your hair green
to rebel, like your mother did when she listened to The Dark Side of the Moon
to her parents’ dismay.  Now she rocks to The Rolling Stones
when she thinks no one is looking.  Ashamed to defy time
because it’s just not right

for a 50 year old woman to sway left and right
to the tunes of yesteryear.  It must have chipped
away at you to realize you’ve been so similar all this time.
But now you’re living with Hur-rawr-doh in his green
house and picking out matching Tombstones
when you haven’t even had your Honeymoon.

There was that night when the moon
was full, and we sat right
on top of your car and wondered who built Stonehenge,
and who was the better rodent: Chip
or Dale?  And if we would see the grassy green
European plains tomorrow, or some time.

The moon shines all the same with craters like chocolate chips,
but we were right not to eat them, we’ve already eaten those green
éclairs.  And like a stone wall, our friendship is weathered but sturdy with time.


Bio: Clint Theron is a Library Assistant at the SCF Bradenton campus.


27 Apr

By ThatSynGirl

I love you with every ounce of soul in my body that I have left.
Even though you took my heart and tore it through my chest.
You’ve done this before, you’ve stolen my heart, and you’ve beaten it to a pulp.
Then you’d hand it to me, and beg and plead to say we still had hope.
Then I’d run back to you, my heart still black and blue, and throw myself into your arms.
Knowing damn well, that I’m running to my end, that my heart was again to be harmed.
But I stayed with you, for so long, I did.
As I watched out relationship turn to shit.
I watched us fail with my very own eyes.
But they must have been blurry from all your lies,
Cause’ I never stepped away, or when I did, I crawled back.
Cause’ you’d spit your lies at me, and I’d take them for fact.


Bio: I don’t waste time telling people who I am. They’re going to form their own opinions regardless of what I’ve said. And so I leave that conclusion up to the individual.

Bubonic Plague on the Subway System

27 Apr

By M. Parks

It’s the American way
There is always
A new disease
A new war
The Devil is lurking
Around every corner
What will they find next?
Kittens carry ebola?
Chocolate causes infidelity?
Your commute to work
Will make you blind
Clam down
Be alive!
Tonights headline
You’re Gonna Die
So hide your children
Barricade your home
Buy everything
That your fear sells you
Because we have your comfort
On clearance


Bio: My name is Matt Parks, I am a student of the arts. I am returning to school after a 5 year hiatus.

Cold Memories

27 Apr

By Christine Cohn

The playground is devoid of
voices or faces

Despite the condition of the weather
I admire the intricacy of the snowflakes

I have finally made the time to
break away from my career

Yet I form tears at the sight of
lovers skating across the
frozen pond in the distance

Brain Storm

27 Apr



By Jaime Ruehle

Thundering through the night crashing

in my sleep. Ideas pour down like

raindrops but they never miss a

beat. The beauty of the brain

storm in dark and lightning,

rain. Ideas, pictures

dancing, storming up

my brain. Its three

o’clock already, and

my fourth time out

of bed. Because

this wondrous

storm is tearing

through my

head. Now

I’m dragging

to my feet,

and I barely

slept at


Not for a moment did I ever think

that the thunder clouds would fall.


Bio: I am a full time student in pursuit of my DVM (doctor of veterinary medicine),  and am at SCF to get my A.A. degree and prerequisites finished. I work part time at a vet office in Venice as a veterinary technician (similar to a nurse), and in my free time I study very hard in order to achieve scholastic success. This kind of a lifestyle takes a lot of determination, and I have even more than that. Poetry has been a big part of my life, and the main outlet for my emotions. I hope you enjoy my work.


27 Apr

by M. Parks

Madness is a gradual process. Talking to myself, wandering aimlessly around the house, or just sitting and spacing out for unknown amounts of time. That was how it began. It was like a drip by drip deterioration of my giving-a-shit. Maybe it was that she was never coming back or that I lost my job or the argument that has kept my sister from talking to me all year. Or maybe, it was the apparitions that had begun to walk around my house…. but honestly, it began before all of that. Those were more like the results. The results of my mind slowly going blank.

Loneliness. It will force the mind to find something to relate to. I began talking to the stray cats that hung around my house–having full conversations with them. We were getting into heated debates about the origins of consciousness and the creation of the universe. I had begun yelling at them angrily about their ignorant philosophies and eventually they stopped coming around and I stopped leaving my room.

I never even would have walked outside that day but it just happened to be that bug up my ass kinda day and I decided to take out the trash. I grabbed the putrid, month old, plastic bag from under the sink and walked outside. Shirtless. Shoe-less. In my boxers. Then I saw him. Sitting on the ground, digging with his bare hands and screaming into the hole. It was Old man Willy. I used to listen to him rant about his politics and his constant losing battle between him and the squirrels over his pecan tree. They were hardly discernible, one-sided conversations that would begin to shoot back and forth between completely unrelated subjects but it always ended with the unforgivable sins of the squirrels. Willy had been alone in his house for longer than I’ve been alive. He had begun the madness process long ago but I had never seen him like this before. He looked like a child playing in a sand box. Digging and pilling the dirt but screaming.

“Am I a coward?! Is it all for nothing?!” he said as he continued to dig.

Something between him and I resonated inside me.  I could hear the desperation in his voice as he was catching his breath and wiping tears from his face. I couldn’t even remember the last time I thought of something as beautiful. It takes strength to dive that far into insanity. I’m not sure how long I stood there watching him. Time seemed to be standing still and no one else even noticed the scene. Eventually, I was back inside and found myself turning on music and cleaning my house. A week later, I had a job. I was doing things. I was exercising, I was going out in public, I was having conversations with strangers. Somehow, I had hardly even thought about that day afterwards and Willy had seemed to go back to regular crazy Ol’ Willy but that scene had changed me.

Two months later, I finished cooking dinner, cleaned the dishes and took the trash out. As I came around the corner, I saw Willy. An eerie chill ran up my spine at the sight of a familiar scene. This time it was much more grotesque. Willy was knelt in his drive way. He looked as if he was in a trance.

He was sitting in the middle of a hand drawn circle of blood and holding a dead squirrel up towards the setting sun. It wasn’t that what he was doing was so odd to me, and some might say that that truly makes me more insane than Willy, but again, there was a resonance between him and I. I realized how, just two months ago, I was sitting on the edge of that same cliff that old man Willy seemed to have jumped off of. He had mirrored my insanity and brought me back to my senses. I felt bad for the innocent squirrel he was sacrificing to the pecan god that resided in his head, but it was his insanity that brought me out of my own darkness somehow. He only does it twice a year now and I observe through my window as not to disturb him.


Staff — Spring 2015

27 Apr

Danielle Dean

I’m an English major currently working towards earning my SCF. Reading and writing have always been my favorite hobbies (bibliophile might as well be my middle name), and working in publication makes it easy to fulfill both of these! I hope to transfer to USF or another state school once I’ve finished my time at SCF to pursue a Bachelor’s degree. After school, I hope to one day become an editor and/or author.

William Goetluck

Everyone knows me by Jake, and its always fun to see teachers reactions when i don’t go by Will or Billy, since those are usually the first two names that are asked first. Im studying to be a Graphic Design major and hoping to run my own business sometime in the near future. I was planning on transferring to UCF once i get my required credits but I’m leaning more towards just getting my two years in and be done with school so I can focus on my business, and if I feel like I need more schooling then I’ll finish up my bachelors later.

Leslie Stanley

In my day to day life, I am known by Nikki. But in the realm of my creative works, I’m Syn.
I don’t waste time telling people who I am; people don’t listen. I show people who I am. And just like any good work of art, people will form their own opinions of you, regardless of what you tell them or show them. And that’s why I leave that up to the individual.

Maria Sacali

I am originally from Moldova, a small, poor country in Eastern Europe. I came to America about 8 years ago and lost most of my Russian accent due to my American friends. I am planning on majoring in either writing or psychology. But I might surprise myself and do something completely different, because I am good at most things I try. I am a strong believer in self worth and it took me almost 20 years to figure out that the only persons’ approval I need in order to succeed is my own, and when people see you succeeding, despite their previous opinion of your success, they will come crawling back and stand next to you. And it is completely up to you to let them stay there, or push them away, just as they’d done to you. But all of that depends on if you care for them, or not.

Banana Dog

27 Apr

by Arjun C. Mangalan

Bio: My name is Arjun C. Mangalan and I am an Indian. I have been
living in Untied States Since 2011. In 2013,I graduated from Palm Beach
Gardens High School.  I chose Computer Engineering, as a major because I think that technology is one of the most important tools that we have in this world today. I have always been passionate about technology and also want to find something new in mine life. I spend most of mine free times in front of the computer. Moreover, I am an Adobe Certified Expert in Photoshop CS5, so I likes to manipulate photos or create new ideas.