The Final Draft

1:37

by Daniela de Souza

 

     I notice how foggy it is. Well, it isn't actually foggy. It's the debris and dust rising up into the stale air. It makes it all look like fog. I see sweat beads being created on the people out the window. They're scrambling across the pavement, trying to find something that will secure them. I sit here with my hands tightly gripping the comfortingly hot cup that my tea rests in, my heart pumping softly. I'm peaceful here, although I feel uneven observing the scene. Their shrieks and pleads poison my quiet surroundings. I sniffle, unafraid of my own predictable fate. I should be afraid. The way the women call for their children and collapse to their knees, the way the chunks of what was a building collide with the ground, the way tears flow- it all tells me I should be afraid.

     I blink my eyes to erase what I'm watching. The scenery ahead of me becomes more chaotic as a building to my left dies. The particles fly up into the sky and into the comforting clouds. I hear more shrills and shrieks crawl through the cracks of my apartment. People jump into one another's arms, they shove strangers to embrace loved ones, they fall into fetal position as stress controls them. They all look like animals. The breath of my still hot tea brushes against my delicate cheekbones. I feel the floor beneath me vibrate. A slab of material crashes into my haven. I take sip of my hot tea. It fills my veins with warmth, causing me to close my eyes. I am not afraid.

 

 

__

 

 

 

Hobo Joe

by Liam Gerrity

 

Hobo Joe was a'walkin' down the beach with his metal detector, trying to get a few coins. Joe used to be a successful detective, with superior deductive reasoning capabilities, but he quit, under the persuasion that beach looting would be more lucrative. Oh sure he was walkin' down that beach, until he found a fifty lbs Berkan bag full of dead fella.

"Lord that's stanky!" He said to himself.

He then used his metal detector on the bag, it beeped. He rummaged around the inside until he found a golden wedding band. He took the ring and started down the beach. A few yards away from the bag he turned back to face the stench of putrefaction and said.

"Lord, the Mrs. sure did away with you right."

Again he turned around and waddled away.

 

 

___

 

 

 

Swiss Cheese

by Katherine Anderson

 

Have you ever seen lightning

Dancing across the starry night sky?

Because it’s not all I was hoping

It would all turn out to be.

I don’t think it’s worth it, not really.

All the rage over love is a waste.

Or maybe my heart’s too chilly

To feel anything but distaste.

It’s nothing like a fiery blaze.

I’m not consumed by an ardent passion

That guides my way through this endless maze.

It’s naught but the latest, fleeting fashion.

 

___

 

 

Grandparents

by Erin Reichle

 

"Damn," he murmured under his breath, right before he lifted the dry chicken into his mouth.

 

Maurie looked over at her husband, and her eyes found his wrinkled, furrowed brow. She examined his pale, fleshy skin, and the way his hair was thin but still slightly greasy, pulled over his patchy bald spot in a combover.

 

No matter how she looked at him, she would still see ugly. Maybe she had been looking at him for so long that she had forgotten what he really looked like to people who first met him; to the people that loved him.

 

"What, dear?" She was aiming for a caring tone, but her voice came out flat.

 

"Nothing." He barely bothered with one word. His irritated manner worried her.

 

"Jim." He looked up and their eyes locked.

 

She thought they were about to have a moment. But all Maurie saw was ugly blue pupils, and the minuscule purple veins that ran through his eyelids. She felt her own unattractiveness reflecting back at her off of his face. She felt her small eyes and dumpy nose and all of the weight she had gained with her age, and her stomach dropped.

 

"Jim, do you want to leave me?"

 

"Yes."

 

They returned to their food, and never spoke of it again.

 

 

 

___

 

 

Sledding in a Cemetery

by Noah Hanna

 

1st and 2nd grader throw themselves down the snowy road, lined on both sides by gravestones, most of them with the final date sometime in the 80s. You could always tell who was bringing their kids here for the first time, because they haven't accepted the fact that once in a while their kid is going to hit a gravestone.

 

 

___

 

Lie With Me

by Sarah Holland

 

I'm lonely.

My heart beats slowly,

like it's the offbeat of another.

A greater other.

Something far greater

than me.

You look cold.

Why don't you

crawl onto the couch

and wrap your arms around me?

Keep me company

during in the darkest of nights,

when my computer screen

is the only window

into an existence outside

of my own.

There is a world out there:

a world of parties

and heartbreak

and drunken bliss.

A world of living

that I both want and don't want to be a part of.

So until then,

until I find my place,

please,

just lie with me.

Scratch my wrists

just a little deeper.

Pinch my stomach

just a little harder.

Wring my mind out,

so it's just a little dryer.

And maybe then,

if I'm lucky,

I will be fit

to make my first public appearance

without you.

 

___

 

 

Kitehead

by Erin Reichle

 

I'm looking for some feeling in an expanse of numbness

 

Sometimes I'm in my thoughts and

I lose myself

I lose sight of what people think

Of what's normal

I wake back up

It's been too long

I see their faces and I know that

I no longer belong

 

And talking is difficult

Because you're fine now, but

Bruises almost always

Show up in the morning

 

I think you're right for me because

The things that mean something to me

Mean something to you too

 

Happiness, however, is a heart monitor

The happiest you'll be

Is when emerging from your lowest sadness

 

And sometimes there's always a problem

Even when there's not supposed to be

 

And my head

It doesn't belong here,

It's too loud.

I walk around with my brain up in the clouds

 

 

___

 

 

Three-Hundred and Sixty-Five

by Bailey Kroll

 

Remote backwoods in a small town

A cozy house that does the job

Natural lawn, nature’s landscaping

A long, winding driveway

Lined with an asymmetrical array of elms

All shapes and sizes

A small hike away from the river

Come summer you can sit in the golden fields

Keeping yourself amused for hours with the power of curiosity

 

When the rain arrives in the morning of April,

The brilliant violets bloom

While the sky stays a solid grey

Daffodils fill your backyard, like a sea of creamy butter

Your peach trees bloom, ripe and ready with fruit,

Eager to help you create a peach cobbler

 

You have neighbors within a ten minute walk

Children, slightly different ages and a mix of gender

Every night after school you run off to a new adventure:

Can you run the fastest?

How far can you throw the ball?

Can collect the most snails?

How many rocks can you fit in your pockets?

You play:

Cowboys and Indians

Pirates

Princes and Princesses

Cat and mouse, dog and cat

But you come back in time for dinner

 

In fall, the leaves turn to varying shades of

Yellow, orange, brown, and red —

Like the feathers of a holiday turkey

Overcast skies accompany fresh apple pie and relatives —

Your Aunt Linda, Uncle Paul, Cousin Billy, and Cousin Lisa

Join you and the rest of your family for a wholesome meal

 

As dusk turns to night, you gather around

A crackling bonfire and a meaningful conversation

You lose yourself in the beauty of the crimson flames,

Dancing with the vibrations of the world

Stargazing and

Making s’mores, oozing with rich chocolate and gooey marshmallows

Playing a game of Candyland and

Baking pumpkin muffins, their aroma filling the house with memories from the past

Building with Legos,

Playing with puzzles

Reading Lord of the Rings,

Snuggling up on the couch with your handmade-by-Grandma blanket,

Wrapping it around you like a cocoon

Watching a nice Christmas special on TV, or

Listening to a nightly radio broadcast

 

As your eyelids grow heavy, you stroll off to bed

Put on your favorite baby blue pair of PJs and

Crawl into your cradle to recharge and dream

Your mind wanders for a bit, still wide awake

Then settles down into the rhythm of your breathing as you drift from reality

 

 

___

 

 

A Good Night

by Amanda Starkes

 

Do not go gently into that good night, he said.

What good night? I replied.

What night is ever good?

You lay there in solitary darkness,

waiting for a sunrise

to brighten

your isolation.

But what about a night spent in the arms of another? He countered.

What arms? I replied.

Those arms.

If they were to wrap around me

they’d be wrapped around the soul of a murderer.

And murderers do not take kindly to comfort

from the arms of intruders.

What is wrong with comfort? He inquired.

Comfort is brief, I replied.

It never lasts.

Like a warm spring,

it never outgrows

a bitter winter.

But what about love? He pressed.

Is love not eternal?

No, I insisted.

Love is for the fickle joys of men’s hearts

and for the yearning young dreams of girl’s minds.

Love is

what I would call,

a good night.

 

 

___

 

 

Parasite

by Sarah Holland

 

Flames of hair

lick the damp darkness

of comatose city streets.

A spark in the shadows,

she darts through apartments

and the space between your ears

like a mere afterthought.

Always on the fray.

Always far away.

Only getting close enough

to take what she needs from you:

A name.

A hope.

A secret.

And she’s on the road again,

armed with fragments of your soul

to clog the ragged hole

in her chest.

 

 

___

 

 

And the Wolf Follows

by Amanda Starkes

 

Every waking moment, it haunts my anxious mind. It stalks me like a wolf in the shadows. Its friends eagerly snapping their jaws, waiting for a chance to tear me apart.

 

I try to walk with purpose. Back straight, head tall, eyes trained on the path ahead. I try my best to ignore my hungry followers, letting them believe that I am not the weak link in the herd. I ignore the way their eyes penetrate through my defenses, how the intent to kill is clearly seen every time I turn my head. I know that I am the creature that they desire to hunt, so why not let them take me?

 

I use "creature" because that is how I feel. A deer caught in the headlights of a speeding vehicle. A dark thundercloud about to burst with cold arctic sleet.

The stress and pressure is too much to bear. My mind can take no more.

 

So why doesn’t it go away on nights where the sea is calm and the moon is bright? Why doesn’t it evaporate like rain in a desert when luminous warmth fills my hollow bones? So brief the happiness comes, like the rarest rose on a frozen winter’s day.

 

Like the wolf, it never ceases to follow me. It tracks my every move, waiting for the slightest slip-up or clumsy step that will set my path askew, giving the wolf a chance to lunge and rip another limb off from my already broken and rotting body.

 

Yet I still walk. Back straight, head tall, eyes trained on the path ahead. Not bothering with the blood trail I leave behind for the wolf and his friends to follow. 

 

 

___

 

 

Restless Women Don't Make Good Housewives

by Evan Jenkins

 

Bones brittle

Blood fluid

Thinking things will change

 

Day by day life spirals.

Downward?

Yes, downward.

 

More uppers

More downers

More

More

 

Blood brittle

Bones fluid

Day after day

Wishing I was insane

 

 

___

 

 

Cold

by Erin Reichle

 

You are a snowstorm

White flicks rain down out the window

Shivering and bundled in warmth

 

Cold steam on a dark night

We're here laughing

Whispering in your ear I wet my lips

Laughing and it's way too real

 

I know all of you

And none of you

I want more of you

 

You're my rush

My confidence

My insecurities

My pain

You are laced through my laugh

You reflect off my eyes when I smile

 

And I can't get you off my mind

And I wish I wasn't in so deep

And I love it

 

 

___

 

 

What I am and What I am Not

by Angel Ramirez

 

I

Am a boy.

I am not

What you want.

I am not

A shemale,

Not

A faggot,

Not

A queer,

Not

Confused.

 

I am not

A girl

simply because

"God made me one",

Or because you raised me to be one.

 

I

Am a boy.

I wear a constricting binder,

Cut my hair short

So I feel the wind on the nape of my neck.

 

I am not

A girl

Because you say I am.

Not

Because you want me to be one

Because this life is mine.

Not yours.

And the decision is mine.

Not.

Yours.

I

Am a boy.

 

 

___

 

 

Domestic

by Noah Sleeper

 

I'm in my no-man's land,

the numb ending granted by the screen

to many a war without bullets.

And this couch is pulling me in,

withdrawing me into the only place

clean of blood spots. Now I begin

to put my headphones on to drown out the sound

of the gunshots.

Blood shot eyes...

all I've known for weeks.

And they're not even mine, I don't think.

But at night in the mirror I see them speak. They say,

"You're weak, and we're tired." And with a dying creak

they close and remain shut while I brush my teeth,

and expose me to just what I'd die

not to see. And even as I try to sleep,

I hear those gunshots downstairs

over the blare of the TV trying so hard to do its job—

to make no one feel anything, in return for

cheap, ready-made peace.

I'm just glad it's not up to me.

 

 

___

 

 

Tony Romo Haiku  

by Ryan Rees

 

 

Romo was winning

He was up by twenty-three

Romo really choked

 

 

___

 

 

King

by Ian Younge

 

You're falling

Are you falling?

Or are you weightless?

Floating

Descending

 

It builds, the pressure

Will you explode?

Or will you implode?

 

Your ears ring

Soon, the pressure

Is unbearable

 

It rises

Until you reach

A satisfying release

 

Now you are floating

Floating in acceptance

Or is it defeat?

For you it is a victory

 

You float in this acceptance

Until once again

The pressure builds

 

Flashes

Something flashes

It's not life

It's not heaven

It's something

 

This time the pressure builds

Slowly

Ominously

 

Try to remember love

Laughter

Try to remember calmness

But all there is, is

Fear

Darkness

 

The pressure crushes you

 

Finally

Release

Light

Melting

 

You bask in your victory

You strangled the darkness

Into submission

 

You conquered anxiety.

Overwhelmed by fear

You faced it

You are king

 

Until once again

The pressure builds

 

___

 

 

Seven

by Susannah Crowell

 

Sometimes I feel like

I am seven people

And all of them love you

Though not all of them want to

 

They all have their interests

Their weaknesses, strengths

Their schedules and lives

And their depths and their lengths

 

They all live within me

But one cannot live

Seven lives in a body

That one life can give

 

So I do not know

The next time we shall meet

But I know that kiss will be

Seven times as sweet

 

 

___

 

 

Outside

by Susannah Crowell

 

Come sit with me, darling

Up upon the hill

Where birds are the chatter

And air isn't still.

There isn't a group

Running restless about

Young, stale corridors talked up

And yet, filled with doubt.

For no one can doubt

Such a bright, simple place

Where no words will exist

Until we fill the space.

But our blissful silence

Is all we will need

Come sit with me, darling

Here, under the tree.

 

 

___

 

 

Black Belt

by Madeline Imhoff

 

Tori was so proud of her belt. It was about three inches wide and around six feet long. She'd wrap it around her waist twice then tie it in a double knot in the front with the ends going down in opposite directions. It was black and had blue stitching on the end, showing her achievement. Tori was very proud of her belt. She got it from hard work and dedication. She is very serious about her belt. She went to class almost every day so she could get it. She was the tallest girl in her class, around 5'6". You could always pick her out from the room, her blonde hair in two braids down the side, staring back at you as she stood still facing the instructor.

 

One time, Caroline and I used the belt to tie Tori up when she went into a little violent streak. She wasn't very happy with us. Her face was so red, it looked like an apple. Caroline and I laughed at her... then she punched us. It hurt. Really bad. Tori apologized that night, but she was still proud of her punch.  I was proud of it too.

 

She has a closet, full of belts like the other, each one a different color showing how hard she works. A year and a half, that's how long it took for Tori to achieve her goal. Now she has her black belt, and we are all thoroughly terrified of that girl. I love her anyway.

 

 

___

 

 

Sister for Sale

by Emma Tomlin

 

I’m selling my sister for $15. I won’t give her away for free because that would mean she’s worthless, and that would just be a terrible thing for me to imply. Her name is Hannah Marie. Kinda basic, but hey, at least it’s not Bertha or Olga or something completely horrible like that (no offense to all the Berthas and Olgas of the world). Plus, you can always change her name, which will only take you your entire life to legalize.

 

She has brown hair and brown eyes, and her skin has "a nice olive-y complexion," according to her. She’s a whopping 115 pounds, so you kinda need to get her above the underweight line (she doesn’t eat anything).

 

You’ll never have to worry about her running off to play beer pong or anything, because she doesn’t like parties. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, she’s afraid of human interaction. I guess that makes her an introvert? She won’t conform to your musical tastes (I’ve already tried, but she can’t be swayed). One time I turned rap on in the car, and she threatened to drive off a cliff if I didn’t turn if off. Also, she’s not into the outdoors or sweating, so she doesn’t like sports. She was in soccer when she was seven, and she threw every ball in front of a car so it got squished. The team gave her a restraining order. She does love to read though. She has 10,000,000,000 books all organized by title, genre, color, characters, setting, and length on her bookshelves.

 

She’s kinda OCD. One time she cleaned the entire house like 20 times in a row. It all started because she splattered some tomato sauce on the perfect travertine floors. After cleaning it she noticed a speck of dust on the baseboard, and then a crumb in the grout, and one thing just led to another.

 

Anyways she’s really smart. She made straight A’s her entire school life, so if you need someone to do all your homework, Hannah’s your gal. If you need somebody to rant to about your horrible life, Hannah will definitely listen. She doesn’t talk much, so you won’t have to worry about her interrupting your life story. But when she does talk, your ears will for sure bleed. This is because her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard with a mixture of Britney Spears and Ke$ha singing. It’s pretty bad. It only happens like twice a year though, since she’s pretty much mute.

 

If you’re even considering buying her, don’t expect much. But for 15 bucks she’s a steal.

 

 

___

 

 

Chubby Janet and the Dance of Death

by Liam Gerrity

 

Chubby Janet had dreamed of dance since she was nine years old, but oh! When she was finally old enough, she was too overweight to stand. She spent ten years trying to lose the weight and after trials and tribulations she finally did, but oh! By the time she was thin and as graceful as a gazelle there were no more dance studios. So she decided to save up and start her own. She did so, and she bought a run down old warehouse and fixed it up nicely, but oh! Just as she made enough money, the war broke out. Yes, yes, it was World War II and no one wanted to dance because of it. In her grief she decided to commit suicide by dancing herself to death. So she went to the desk in the corner of her studio to compose a suicide note, but oh! There was no paper, oh no, none at all! So she

decided to let her exhausted dead body speak for itself and commenced her dance of death, but oh! She forgot to stretch her ankles and she broke them on a downward plié!

 

Janet crawled to the studio’s pie safe in which resided several cakes which she proceeded to eat until she was

chubby again. One day, five girls pranced gleefully into the old dance studio, ecstatic that the war had ended.

But oh! They saw the gorged, chubby Janet and promptly left.