Fenestella melange - 2015 1st sem
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Transcript of Fenestella melange - 2015 1st sem
Antonio Fowl Stark (KangSan Kim)Writer of mediocre caliber. The world is filled with gemstones, waiting to be sought by those who deserve their beauty. Learn, Love, and Live. Let the words flow and the emotions come. Spontaneity is the only solution.
Stella KimLiterature and philosophy are often said to be on the opposite ends of a branch. But they can complement. Philosophy sets a base for literature and literature in return tries to reach an answer through imagination, something philosophy cant do through its logic.
Yungseo LeeHello! My name is Yungseo Lee and I like to sit down and type occasionally in an attempt to find out who I am. I hope that therell be a day when my writing makes someone smile. Thank you!
Sharon Sence (Sumin Oh)An archer nocking an arrow towards the ideal and the reality. Im on my way to figure out which target my final aim should head towards to. Wish me good luck.
Shinyoung Hailey NohI hum, I sing, I holler from the mountaintops - and if you join me, the world will have three new voices
Chaewon LimI feel the most comfortable when I am expressing myself through words. I love to find beauty in words and to cherish it. Reaching out and trying to grab the essence of emotions, although often in vain, is what writing is to me.
NaJin Sarah YoonA scribbler who wants to be a real writer someday, cat person. Into literature and history, would like to be a lense into the past for the reader. Introverted, approach with care.
Suhwon Sarah ChangA work of literature is a manifestation of life
Focused on short, contemplative fictions. Writing, no matter how public, is a form of personal expression that differs in depth for all involved in the practice.
Sohee Kim17 years old freshman in Korean Minjok Leadership Academy. Iridescent, Rem-iniscent, and loving
Fenestella: The Crew
Table of Contents
The Spiders HourglassLife is a Lonesome PathBurdenPromise of the WorldPeter Pan is No LongerCarry Your WorldThe Wolf CeremonyPanEfflorescenceAlong the RoadTo.AliceFlorenceLove GaugeThe ScribblerAlpha BetaMy TeenageMemories of MyselfYes, YouThe Heavenly Loan, I Pay Tonight
Photo credit Antonio F. Stark
A Black widow spider built her house on the side of a bridge that crosses a lake. She had been very choosy in deciding the spot, so it took three full weeks for her to finally settle down in the cozy space between two poles of the bridge rail. Her soft tip-toes moving fast around and across the rails in almost one gliding motion, she moved full of life, as if resonating with the sound of a pianists fingers brushing against the keys in ever-climbing notes. Elegance, thats what she was, black from head to tip, her abdomen a little swollen like a small gourd bottle, and with an accent of a red stain in the form of an hourglass at the top of her shiny back.
From the first time weve met, you gave me so many things. You gave me hope, life and everything.
She was the center of the world. At quiet nights after a daylong shower of rain, the Spider would sit at the middle of her hexagonal house, gazing. Lights on the bridge rail would linger on her transparent net, and shine the center light at the Spider, the main character of the show today. People pass-ing the bridge, marveling at the six-faceted diamond made by the Spider, would stop their walks for a few seconds to look closer into the creature that built this jewel of night. Spider always gazed back. She never looked away or shied off.
But one morning, upon waking up after a windy night on the usual place at the center of her web, she realized that the world looked different. Rather than brilliant, the sunlight hit dull on her thin legs, and her web, having lost its transparent glow, was weak and drooping without elasticity. Before, whenever she moved, she had so much energy that the web seemed to dance in coordination with the limbs of her legs, but now she seemed to sink away in the midst of a sticky sea of glue. To a human passerby, there was in fact no change, and the Spider was still young at the blooming age of her life. But why? The sun shone bright as ever and the wind had softened into a breeze.
Then the fatal question arose: why am I alone?
Why? ...... Why?She tried to be aggressive, but she couldnt. From the moment her words came out from
her mouth, it just spread to air rather than harming anyone.
Splash! Fresh juice flowed into the Spiders mouth as she angrily punctured the caught fly with her fangs. The juice made her feel alive for a few minutes, but thirst, even stronger than before, soon extinguished all pleasure and the memory of pleasure. Partly because she didnt want to move her limbs, and partly because of childish defi-ance, the Spider stood erect and still at her spot in the center looking ahead, regardless of wind and rain. For a whole week, she did not even gaze away.
It was more of a ways of protecting herself, not attacking others. She was making bar-riers, not throwing spears.
But it still hurt.Cold and dry winds of winter tried to scratch her with its fangs, but she didnt move
from the place.
On the eighth day, however, she was tired. It was only more evident now that she was alone. No friend had come, but only preys; were the pleading eyes of countless preys the only souls that she was doomed to look into?
Suddenly the little strength that had remained in her legs gave way in a chill breeze. She lost her balance. Without even realizing what was happening, she was for the first time in her life, falling to the ground. She instinctively closed her eyes shut.
Right before she hit the water, something caught her. Glowing in the sunlight, it was a string of her web, holding on to her right foreleg. She slowly climbed up, holding onto the glistening string. As she sat again in the middle of her web, she realized that the world was more silent than ever.
Silence hurts more than words, for it gives more meanings. Yes, but for it gives more meanings, its also more achingly valuable, and, with a
start, the Spider quickly added in her head, more beautiful. Then the sun shone as bril-liantly as ever on her delightfully vibrating web. She loved her web! The rays of the sun then played on the red hourglass on her back, which had not, at all, dripped a single grain of sand since she was born. A non-changing hourglass: exhausting, but beautiful. Is it not? Finally, the Spider could say, I am happy.
Grandma? Are you okay?Oh, no problem, Andy. Its just a yawn. Did you like the story of Miss Spider? Well,
then, go to bed now. Good night sweetie.Sarah swiftly rubbed off the tear from her eye. Although a grandmother of four, she
still had a sharp chin curving up to her ears, and the slim, long-sleeved black dress that she had on fitted her nicely. Under well-groomed eyebrows her black eyes shined with a hint of moisture in them. On the hand that brushed off the moisture on the other
sleeve, there was a red ring the shape of an hourglass.When Sarahs eyes lay upon her ring, the memories of her past passed her head
smoothly without any confusion in their chronological order. They had obviously been played many times already: in fact, every time she told the Spiders story to her children and grandchildren.
Anything, she answered, her eyes twinkling and her lips trembling with anticipation. Ill do anything for you.
This time, she was sure of herself, finally. She no longer wished that the hourglass on her ring would trickle down sand and bring some change. Now, she could say, I am happy, with her eyes twinkling in anticipation of the next days sun.
Is it normal, so?For us to feel sorrow
To grieve for ourselves
Sometimes it happensThat we must endure ourselves
That we must convince ourselvesThat life is a sole path
Many times, what you depended onAre just shadowsSometimes it isThat shadows
Exist to beRipped
Life is a lonesome path
I scream, out loud, care not, I doFor life is a lonesome path. Nobody is hereTo hear me scream. To empathize with me
It is a lonesome path
Is it my fault?That moment, that time
When you are so, deathly aloneThat you cannot find a person to blame
That that you have no shoulder to cry onWhen theres only the ground to hold your tears
And the sky to take your gulping gaspAnd the streetlamps to beg on
And yourself to hugThat
Life is a Lonesome Path18th W. Antonio Stark
So alone?I am
Dear my heartPlease beat, for me
Dear my legs,Please stand, for me
Dear my eyesPlease see, for me
Collapse and cry
Shriek until its hoarseBut how far you may go
Even if you may crawl and begPlease live onPlease go on
Where you sit now
Its not for youIts not the place
You belongGrit your teeth
Squeeze your eyesBut climb
Let the stars in the pool stay behind you
The dreams, the hurt and the heartLet it all be left in that pool
The stars, the dreamsThat you should