If I Had a Good Title,

I’d Put it Right Here

YAWP

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Artist : Kaila Burns

Island Love

Run to

the beach

the bees

the peace

Run to

Heart’s core.

by Victoria Nay

The Sound

from vibrating strings

of steel and copper they sing

the sound pulses through

seducing the soul

the sound they find their own way

from vibrating strings

By Jon Wagoner

Sedoka

warm air passes by small smile plays across her lips

pages crinkle in her grasp

sand spreads around her knees pulled to her chest in peace

arms spread ready for takeoff

by Cheyenne Altizer

7-7-7

It’s funny.

I’ve reached the bottom.

Never thought it would happen.

Chains tightened

To bricks,

Slowly ending.

by Cheyenne Altizer

Artist: Kaila Burns

Dot’s Limerick

There once was a line and a dot. A sentence they wanted a lot. Along came some spaces And letters and faces. Their sentence. A good one? Maybe not. by Sarah Dodge

We

We rednecks. We

Big trucks. We

Green tractors. We

Eat deer. We

Dip snuff. We

Wear boots. We

Shoot guns. We

Love fun!

by Kasey Binion

Horror Stories

I heard the yelling of men and women who suffered through guilt and shame,

who lived lives worth forgetting. That’s when I realized my own voice in the

crowd. by Ricardo Feinstein

A freezing breath cascades across the back of my neck. I turn, only to find his silver eyes gazing back at me. I haven’t seen him since his funeral. by Angelica Bailey

He heard them enter. As long as he didn’t give himself away like last time. He closed his eyes to breathe. They must not find him. But they always did. Suddenly, the stall shook. “We can smell you in there!” He heard their snickering and snorting, the unzipping of bags, the pulling out of who-knew-what this time—their intentions to hurry before trouble found them. He heard—but what he was sure they didn’t hear was the pop and whiz of bullets piercing bone and flesh. by Boulder

Acrid

Her smile gave him chills; she could tell. He followed her anyways. A

swipe of the card, and they were in. He began loosening his tie, and she took

out the handcuffs.

“Excuse me, Sweets.”

Evalynn sauntered to the bathroom where she locked the door and un-

zipped her bag on the counter. Inside lay a silver razor. She slid it carefully into

the back pocket of her jeans.

“Everything okay?” the man called.

“Everything will be.” She looked into the mirror, her reflection smiling.

“There is power, power, wonder-working power, in the precious blood of the

lamb.”

He whistled along. by Victoria Nay

Artist: Kaila Burns

The Bloody Leaf

Open grassy path Red leaf pressed into the mud Crunches in the breeze The sudden feeling of cold Metal boots trodding as one by Robert Rizzo

So much depends upon

A crest-fallen writer

Stained in his own clear ink

Underneath the crumpled papers

by Mari-Peyton Kouchinsky

Ghost Train

The passenger knows

Why the conductor stalks

As the whistle blows.

Why do they whisper as whispering goes?

The ticket master walks

The passenger knows.

Wheels push in clattering rows

Invisible hands; source of knocks

As the whistle blows.

Their presence slows.

Stop their talks.

The passenger knows.

The grey train’s journey comes to a close.

Door creaks and unlocks.

The passenger knows

As the whistle blows.

by Sarah Dodge

Libre

The wooden floor seems to have sprung a rusty leak,

The thump, thump, thump like hammer on nail has ceased,

The eyelashes, fluttering like moth’s wings, finally still against

cheek.

She stains the hardwood as she scrubs at the spill,

She treads to the bathroom, washing her hands of filth,

She slides open the window wide, elbows splayed on the sill.

Free to lean out far into night’s delicious embrace,

Free to drive his truck right into the lapping water of the lake,

Free to down his beer, to watch him and his headlights disappear

without a trace.

See how she dances down the dirt road, bottle in hand,

See how she sashays slowly home, for now she can,

See how she takes a stronger sip of life, disregarding the first as

bland.

He is dust swept beneath the mantle, a smudge under the rug,

He is a restraint, lifted at last, a Vegas bookie fresh out of luck,

He is the lifespan of a mayfly, an addict overdosed on drugs.

Me, I am a child with dreams sewn together from seams of the

hope he split,

Me, I am a girl cowering in the dark, imagining a newspaper with

his obit.,

Me, I am a woman who brought him to his knees, and his throat slit.

by Darby Lucius-Milliman

A

Book

Changed how I thought

Decided how I would act

Engaged my emotions

Fractured my viewpoints

Gulped down the leers

Huffed my sighs

Elicited my heartbeats

Jerked my heartstrings

Kissed my throat

Lunged at my lungs

Mutilated my fingertips

Named my words

Ordered my blinks

Punctuated my footsteps!

Questioned my achievement?

Retracted my actions

Siphoned my voice

Tempted my hands

Untied my nerves

Vandalized my dreams

Whisked my fears

Xeroxed my expressions

Yelled, “Never again!”

Zoomed in on what wasn’t me

by Mari-Peyton Kouchinsky

In the Clouds

I’m a vast darkness

Rushing to the

Eyes,

I’m a clock ticking

Slowly

To an end,

A rock song turning

Into

A lullaby,

Energy

Seeping through

A barrier,

Dreams running to catch

Me before I leave.

I’m a

Horse collapsing after

A

Long journey,

A mind

Numbing its senses,

Being high

Against your will.

I’m being

Punished for a crime I didn’t

Commit.

Nothing

Is

Getting through

The haze.

Nothing

But

The

Clouds.

by Allie Huffer

And wear the brave stockings

of night–black lace

Issue: Prostitution

Little girl, oversized shoes and

Momma’s red rouge that you wear

What happened to the

clean hands? Thoughts of being brave

Walking in stilettos and stockings

down the unlit streets of

your career, of your night

painted with black

mascara calling down your face like widow’s lace.

by Victoria Nay

Artist: Madeline Sherry

Locked Away

I am a riddle many cannot read.

Sewn into patches

That are unseen.

Written upon sun-baked paper,

Ready to be thrown away

Like a love letter

To a crush to be read.

Locked away like a trinket

In a museum.

Never able to be shown

The worth I am.

by Cheyenne Altizer

Irritated

I’m a Monday morning interrupting your peaceful sleep.

I’m sand blowing in your face when you’re trying to enjoy the beach.

I’m a younger sibling always trying to get you in trouble.

I’m someone talking during a movie and you just want to hit them in

the face with a shovel.

I’m paper crinkling and the clicking of pens when you’re tying to

focus.

I’m a bunch of gnats suffocating your face and you just want to kill

them all because you’re on the brink.

You run and try to get away from it all,

but I’m the stump that makes you trip and fall.

by Chelsea Church

Sonnet

Shall I compare you to a rotten bug?

Your eyes fester with a dark light long gone.

You are most at home in feces and drugs.

Fingertips clawed and needle-like stretch long.

Sticky smiles slip over putrid fangs.

Crippled waxy wings smother the stale air.

Others run, scream I’m trapped by foreign chains.

Invade my sight, I do nothing but stare.

You are a foul beast with cancer for eyes.

Your forced kiss makes stomachs boil angry bile.

Your face melts in expressions of demise.

Whispers screech like china falling on tiles.

Still you captivate so much attention.

The day you die will be my elation.

by Mari-Peyton Kouchinsky

ABC

A

Basket of

Chocolate covered candies

Dropped from the sky,

“Eat me,” it said.

For the first time, I tasted chocolate.

Grabbing a hold of my taste buds.

Hanging in my mind like a child on monkey bars.

I was in love, and I

Just wanted and needed more.

Kisses of Hershey on my

Lips. So sweet.

M&M’s streaming through my veins.

Nutella spread all over me.

Oh! So delicious.

Praying I can taste this forever.

Quilts of fudge warm me to sleep.

Realizing the key to happiness is

Snickers and

Twix and everything in the mix. The

Ultimate high.

Verifying the question,

What would Wonka do?

X-rays show my Twizzler bones drizzled in chocolate syrup. I

Yawp for chocolate and

Zoom to the candy shop.

by Chelsea Church

Carpe Diem

Yawp your name listen to distant echoes

Streak naked through your grandma’s backyard

Wear swim trunks in January

Drop to your knees and pray now

Cry in the Sahara

Spend time with your kids

Be brave kiss her

I love you

Breathe in

Live

Live

Breath out

I love you

Be brave kiss him

Spend time with your mom

Cry in the pouring rain

Drop ambitions be humble

Wear your prom dress in Wal-Mart

Streak neon paint across bedroom walls

Yawp louder than the rumble in your chest

by Mari-Peyton Kouchinsky

Standing By

I stand by peacefully preferring to be alone ignoring others apathetically the Kings and Queens boastfully sitting atop their gilded thrones I stand by peacefully I turn away automatically the Royalty verbally breaking bones ignoring others apathetically averting my eyes instinctually witnessing abuse I wish I’d never known I stand by peacefully brushing by others gawking pathetically watching the dead of respect, pride falling prone ignoring others apathetically I shuffle my shoes and scratch my neck uneasily all that remains is a small pile of ashes in an urn of stone I stand by peacefully ignoring others apathetically by Robert Rizzo

Grandfather’s Photos In the cellar Grandfather

sits, leafing through photographs

of his childhood horrors and history.

Glancing at me, he softly arranges

the black and white puzzle of memories.

He never talks to us about the war.

His withered hands squeeze the photographs

as he calls me close to spill his histories.

“It was a time of pain,” says Grandfather,

“that will always be remembered. The memories

of survivors are never forgotten. This war,

the product of a man’s prejudice, arranged

itself to be forever branded on the memories

of whole families.” I look and Grandfather

stops speaking to pick up the photograph

of a boy with a yellow star. The pains of war

hide behind the child’s face. Grandfather arranges

the picture among the rest of his history.

“As older boys, we had to arrange

the cold grey bodies, their souls only memories

and no longer friends. This part of war

will never leave me.” Grandfather

wiped his tears with his hands. Histories

reflected themselves in his photographs.

“Don’t tell me anymore about the war,”

I say. Through all of his tears, he arranges

a smile on his face for me. “These memories

aren’t just mine. They’re your history.

These measly snapshots are only photographs.

You have to hear the rest from your Grandfather.

“I want to learn our history,

but not now. This is enough about war

tonight. More tomorrow.” He stands, arranges

his clothes. He wants to say more. Photographs

fall to the floor. In the eyes of Grandfather

dance the ghosts of long ago. Ghosts of memories.

He decides that arranging his photographs

is enough of horrible history and sobbing memories.

After that, never again did Grandfather speak of war.

By Sarah Dodge

800 Pages

There was a boy. He did little. Usually nothing. He sucked air.

Slept often. Sometimes he doodled. Teachers yelled. Friends

turned. Some cared. Most did not. He told no one. But it was big.

It was important. It would save. It was hidden. Under his bed.

Beside the magazines. Next to stale pizza. Locked in a suitcase.

About 800 pages. Single spaced. It was about you. About me.

About all of us. Our past. The present. Our future. The possibili-

ties. Endless possibilities. Neglected possibilities. It was 800 pages.

It would save. From ourselves. But few read. So it sits. Under dust.

Under a bed. In a locked suitcase. He waits. Hoping someone will

ask. Finally! “So where’s the key?” by Boulder

Spindles of Thread

Take what I left you yesterday, for I may be gone tomorrow.

All of my hopes and dreams mesh together in the blanket of eternity.

I am a very small part of the whole.

I would leave my threads behind for those I love, so they can weave

my memories into their lives.

Hold on to my hopes and dreams, for that is all that will be left

of me.

Take what I gave you yesterday, for I may be gone tomorrow.

by Ashley Brogan

The Charming Games

SCENE I

(9 princesses are on the pedestals

at the beginning of the Hunger

games. Airhorn sounds and they run

towards the cornucopia.)

RAPUNZEL

(to JASMINE)

Hey! Quit shoving!

JASMINE

You’ll trip over that ridiculous weave anyway.

CINDERELLA

Say, Jaz, how’s Aladdin? So sad your genie can’t save you now!

JASMINE

Say, Cindy, I think you lost one of your slippers! (trips CINDER-

ELLA)

(Further away, AURORA, ARIEL, MULAN,

and TATIANA choose weapons and sup-

plies.)

ARIEL

Oh no, I think I broke a scale! (examines fingers)

TATIANA

Not a scale you can’t break, you big ol’ tub of lard.

(ARIEL fumes and starts toward

TATIANA; MULAN holds her back)

MULAN

We’re an alliance, and this is war; we must not become preoccupied

with petty things. Once we find our centers, we will surely win.

TATIANA

Not all, only one. Did your pint-sized lizard tell you that?

MULAN

…Just remember to “be mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”

TATIANA

(points at ARIEL)

I’m sure Fishface would be happier with her weight on the moon.

AURORA

(mildy; sleepily)

Ladies, ladies… Let us try to remain calm with a few soothing ex-

ercises. Breathe in; 1, 2, 3… Breathe out; 1, 2, 3… (sinks to the

ground, asleep)

(Princesses exchange look and leave

AURORA. Cannon sounds.)

MULAN

A sacrifice necessary to our survival.

(SNOW WHITE hums tunelessly, frol-

icking with animals. The others

sneak by her.)

RAPUNZEL

That one won’t last long.

BELLE

I’ve read about cases like hers. The subject hallucinates; often

imagining creatures such as elves and dwarves. They also become

paranoid of poisoned food and occasionally show symptoms of such,

but with no sign of said toxins ever being ingested.

(Cannon sounds.)

CINDERELLA

I wonder who…

JASMINE

One less to kill myself. Let’s find somewhere to stay the night.

Hurry, girls. Someone grab that weave so Rapunzel doesn’t trip.

RAPUNZEL

(seething)

I could scale a tree for safety and you might climb my long

tresses… Unless someone’s afraid my “weave” would fall off.

(literally throws daggers at JASMINE)

(Cannon sounds. The girls are

shocked.)

CINDERELLA

You broke the alliance!

(Princesses turn on each other with

weapons.)

BELLE

I’ve read a guide on situations similar to this.

RAPUNZEL

Of course you have.

CINDERELLA

(starts hyperventilating)

Why am I here? I’m not cut out for this! I was a maid, for God’s

sake! I had to call on a grandmotherly fairy to conjure a carriage

out of a pumpkin and use my only friends, the mice, as horses be-

cause I couldn’t walk the 50 yards to the castle. And then I lost

my ludicrously-crafted shoe and didn’t even have the common sense

to go back for it, and it’s not like I was hoping to collect on

the insurance since it was actually my fairy godmother’s who isn’t

here right now to protect me or my wardrobe—

(BELLE pushes her off the stage/

cliff. Cannon sounds. RAPUNZEL is

aghast.)

BELLE

(shrugs)

Studies have shown that groups of three don’t work well.

RAPUNZEL

…Oh, look, there’s a tree.

(RAPUNZEL climbs the tree and throws

her hair down to BELLE, who fol-

lows.)

RAPUNZEL

Careful, I just conditioned; I don’t want split ends! Oh, and

dear, try not to pull too hard on my…weave.

(BELLE looks surprised, weave

breaks, and BELLE falls (into hidden

trap door.) Cannon sounds.)

RAPUNZEL

You’d think there was a study on that. (hoists up hair)

SCENE II

(MULAN stands over TATIANA, bloody

sword in hand. Cannon sounds.)

MULAN

Forgive my sordid language, but she was so damn annoying.

ARIEL

(pale and on the verge of tears)

Under the sea, there’s never any violence, only love. Every crea-

ture has equal affection and appreciation for one another; from

the shark to the seahorse, and the merman to the krill. Even the

kelp have a representative on the Sea Council. Respect flows like

the tides, but never ebbs like the ocean does from the shore; we

would never dream of hosting a “game” like this! I can’t help but

think, if I hadn’t fallen so madly in love with a mortal man… I

would be home, weaving seaweed through my best friend’s hair and

picking out training clams for my little sister. I wouldn’t be

here, in this harsh upper world, fighting for my Prince Charming

with you! (dissolves into noisy sobs)

MULAN

Sh, sh! (quietly) Do you wish to go back?

ARIEL

More than anything.

MULAN

(hesitantly)

There may be a loophole. I couldn’t bring Mushu to the Games be-

cause he isn’t human. If you were to touch the water…

ARIEL

I would no longer be fully human! I’d be disqualified! (leaps into

stream, then screams)

(Cannon sounds.)

MULAN

Piranhas. It’s a fish eat fish world.

SCENE III

(SNOW WHITE skips through forest,

singing to birds, petting chipmunks.

Animals follow her. She finds a red

apple on the ground, laughs, and

walks on. She finds a green apple on

the ground and eats it. Cannon

sounds.)

SCENE IV

(MULAN and RAPUNZEL happen across

each other; draw their weapons.)

RAPUNZEL

I knew it’d be you. You’re the experienced warrior, “the savior of

China.” Ever heard of an underdog story? I suppose yours was, but

mine will be even more memorable. I never thought I’d get this

far, but I knew if I did, it’d be you I’d have on my conscience

forever. And I can live with that, because at least I’ll get to

live. You, however… Well, today is the day your fairy tale ends

and my happily ever after begins. (thrusts toward MULAN)

(MULAN counters and RAPUNZEL’S dag-

ger falls. RAPUNZEL tries to run,

but trips over her hair. MULAN is

upon her. Cannon sounds.)

MULAN

(short of breath)

I… I have won! I have once again brought honor to China and my

family. I can keep my Prince Charming and return to my homeland!

But first, a moment of silence for the fallen. (bows head)

(AURORA emerges from the bushes,

finds RAPUNZEL’S dagger, and stabs

MULAN in the back. Cannon sounds.)

AURORA

(smiles at sky)

The perks of being a heavy sleeper.

THE END

by Darby-Lucius Milliman

Artist: Jake Riddle (pastel)

Jason the Experiment

Beep beep beep. My irritating alarm clock goes off. I groan loudly and attempt to press the

SNOOZE button. Groggily, I get up, slipping on my slippers and shuffle down stairs in my paja-

mas which consisted of boxers and an old, worn t-shirt. In the dining room, there's a bowl of Frui-

tio's on the dining room table with freshly squeezed orange juice. My dad was reading the news-

paper.

"Morning, Sleepy Head." My mom says teasingly from the kitchen. "You better eat up and

get dressed. The bus is going to be here soon."

My eyes snap open to the size of golf balls. "Uh. Oh." I inhale my cereal and orange juice

then scramble back upstairs to my room. My school clothes were folded neatly on the desk.

"Thanks, mom!"

"You're welcome!" She calls up the stairs, clearly laughing.

I strip off my pajamas and throw on the white t-shirt and jeans. My backpack was sitting

next to the wooden door. I rush downstairs.

"Bye." I say half heartedly kissing my mom on the cheek. "See you this evening."

"Okay. Oh, what costume do you need for the Halloween party tonight?"

"The Grim Reaper." I say in a rush before sprinting out the door.

Thomas and Graham were waiting at the end of the driveway. They fall in line with me.

"Are you ready for the Halloween party? Heard it’s gonna be awesome." Thomas says

grinning.

"Yeah." I can't wait for it." I answer. "What are you going as?"

"I'm going as a vampire." He replies, making a hissing sound and baring his teeth, causing

Graham and myself to laugh. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm going as a werewolf." Graham he says casually as he strolls across the street towards

the school. He was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans.

"Cool! My costume is the Grim Reaper." I stretch my arms behind my back.

"Nice!" They exclaim.

As I walk into the school, Mrs. Watson walks up to me with Emma right behind her.

"Are you helping set up the gym for the Halloween party?" She asks, glaring at me.

I look at Emma. She was looking at me expectantly. I nod. "Yeah. I am."

Mrs. Watson hands me a pass. "Show this to your teachers. It will tell them that you are

excused from class today."

When I take the pass, her and Emma walk towards the office. I watch as they enter the

office. I turn around and walk to history.

"Well. See ya later, Jason." Thomas heads towards the cafeteria.

"Yeah. See ya at the party." Graham splits off towards the gym.

"See ya later!" I call out.

I walk into history and hand Mrs. Smith the note. She reads it quickly then hands it back to

me. "Better make this party look perfect."

I nod then walk towards my other classes. All my teachers, Mrs. Martin (Math), Mrs. John-

son(Computer), and Mrs. Jackson(Latin 4), say the same thing. "Better make the gym look per-

fect."

After I show my last teacher the note, I head towards the gym. I walk in to see my parents

helping with the decorations. They see me and wave. I wave back.

"Your costume's in that bag over there." My father says nodding towards a table near the

exit.

"Thank you." I say excitedly.

"How about we finish with the decorations then you can change into it?" My mom replies.

"Alright." I pick up a carved pumpkin and place it on the nearest table. The decorating of

the gym takes the rest of the school day. By the time we were finished, the gym looked absolutely

perfect. Black and orange streamers and lanterns fill it. There were vampire dummies, several

different games like dunk the witch and many other decorations. Spider webs covered the walls

and the corners of the room, plastic spiders in them. It looked perfect. On the edges of the gym

were a few different tables where punch bowls and snacks would be placed. When we finish, my

mother turns to me smiling.

"Now, you can change into your costume." She says kissing me on my forehead.

I cringe slightly, muttering before sending her an embarrassed smile. "I'll be back soon." I

grab the bag with my Grim Reaper costume in it and rush into the guys' locker room.

Quickly, I pull the costume out and look at it. The cloak was midnight black with a lighter

black hood. There was also a skeleton mask that makes it look like it's bleeding.

"Cool." I whisper as I slip into the costume. When I was in the costume, I walk out of the

guys' locker room to see Emma standing there. She was dressed like a ballet dancer. "Oh. Hey." I

mutter.

"Hi." She says staring at me.

I look around the room and see that the party had already started. As I open my mouth to

say something, the school bully, Bobby, walks up behind me and smacks the back of my head

hard.

"I wonder who's behind the mask." He says harshly and reaches out to grab my mask. "I

think I know who it is."

I try to back away from him, but he was too fast. He grabs my mask and starts to pull it off.

What he didn't know was that he also grabs my hair. As he pulls my Grim Reaper mask off, he

also pulls off a thin layer of fake skin.

"NOOOO!" I shout as they both come off.

Everyone gapes at my purple skin, at my large eyes, and at the fact that I have no mouth.

"You're a… You're a…" Bobby stammers.

I nod. "{ Yes. I'm a Doppelganger. Except I don't want to capture someone to be in human

society.}"

Everyone stares at each other then smiles. Then they grab their own masks and pull them

off to reveal that they were monsters too.

Bobby was really an angry ghost. Thomas was really a werewolf. Graham was really a

vampire. And Emma was a Doppelganger too.

"{Well. If we don't care what we are, then lets dance.}" Emma says dragging me into the

middle of the dance floor. Everyone else follows us and we dance the rest of the night, but sud-

denly, soldiers rush into the gym and surround us.

We all whirl around and stare at the soldiers. A man, who was most likely the commanding

officer, steps forward. He looks us up and down.

"I’m commanding officer Jackson. We’d like to bring you all in to ask you some… Ques-

tions..." He says in a deep voice, a smirk playing on his face.

"Over my dead body." Thomas growls launching himself at a soldier. He rips the soldier's

head off, hot sticky blood spurting out of his neck onto Thomas and a few others that stood too

close.

We all start attacking the soldiers. Bobby possesses a soldier, the mans eyes turning red

then starts shooting at the other soldiers. Thomas was ripping them into bloody ribbons. Graham

was feeding on them. And Emma and I tackle two soldiers to the ground with extreme force.

As soon as I pin a soldier to the ground, my skin and clothes begin to change. My purple

skin changes to a light tan color and the Grim Reaper costume shifts to the camouflage of the sol-

dier's. My jaw widens and my body becomes stronger and older, stubble breaking out on my up-

per lip as I become the man under me. After I was completely changed, I tie the soldier up and

put him roughly into a corner. Then I pull the guy's AK-47 out and try to shoot the General, the ten

rounds just missing him. At that moment, one of the soldiers hits me over the head with their rifle.

I slump to the ground weakly. I'm still conscious, but only barely.

The soldier that had hit me frowns down at me. With the help of another soldier, they get

me onto a stretcher and strap me down tightly. A scientist with a syringe appears on my right. He

had dark brown tousled hair with a few grey strands in it that covered his plain grey eyes. He

looked to be in his late forties to early fifties. I glance at the syringe, fear coursing through me.

"W-What's that?" I mutter, struggling hard against the felt straps holding me down. I see

that the others are now strapped down too. I then change back to my normal Doppelganger form.

Excitement seemed to flare in the scientists eyes at the sight of my true self and he smiles

darkly down at me. "This will change you dramatically." He says vaguely.

I struggle more. "{No! Keep that away from me!}"

The two soldiers nearby help the scientist hold my body still, but I still keep struggling with

all my strength. The scientist sticks the syringe into my arm. I howl in pain as the milky green con-

tents of the syringe enter my body.

My body convulses forcing the soldiers and the scientist to back away. I howl in pain

again. A very strong and painful burning feeling spreads throughout my body. My body was

changing at the molecular level changing me entirely. My eyes are forced closed.

My purple, alien-like body changes to that of a normal teenage human with lightly tanned

skin and tousled red hair, I could feel a mouth slowly forming where there had previously been

plain skin but my eyes weren't normal. I could tell that much. I could also feel my metabolism

speed up and my bones harden. When I open my eyes, everything was in a sharper focus. It was

as if I had snake eyes or some kind of lizard's eyes. I struggle against the straps even more. This

time, the straps snap easily. I leap off the stretcher and growl dangerously at the soldiers and the

scientist.

"You're dead." I snarl. I was just going to run towards them, but everything around me

blurs together. I then find myself directly in front of them. For a second, I'm shocked, but I then

roar in fury. My hand shoots forward, slamming into one of the soldier's heads. His head flies

across the room, landing in the punch bowl. At the end of my fingertips, I see deadly sharp claws

protruding from the end of them.

The remaining soldier raises his gun to shoot me, but I use my new-found speed to zip

towards him. I smack the gun aside and rake my claws across her chest. She screams in pain

before collapsing. I then turn on the scientist.

"What did you do to me?" I growl, walking towards him slowly.

He starts to back up. He was scared for his life. I could smell it on him somehow.

"I-I-I just t-tried to m-m-make y-you normal…" He stammers. He was lying.

I growl. "Don't lie to me. I don't take kindly to liars." I was directly in front of him now.

He then pulls out a gun and points it at my head. "You're right. I wasn't trying to make you

normal. I was trying to kill you." He pulls the trigger, and the gun fire with a deafening bang.

I wince and take a step back, but instead of the bullet striking my chest, it strikes one of

my ribs and ricochets off my rib, striking the wall. I have a small cut where it had hit, but that was

all. I snarl at him. My clawed hand leaps out and decapitates him with one strike. His headless

body drops to the ground, blood pooling around him at an alarming rate.

I'm breathing hard as my new eyes glare down at the scientist's dead body. I then feel a

gentle hand on my arm. I whirl around, but freeze to see that it was only Emma. She looked hu-

man except for the fact that she has tiger eyes and tiger claws on her fingertips.

"Calm down, Jason. It's all over." She says soothingly. I relax slightly. She stares at my

eyes. "You have snake eyes." I start to turn away, but she gently grabs my arm. I glance at her.

"Where are the others?" I ask softly.

She shakes her head. "The soldiers killed them."

Shock and grief fills my body and all colour drained from me skin. "What are we supposed

to do now?" I whisper, horror in my voice as I stare at the floor.

Emma tilts my head back up and looks into my eyes, deep sadness in them. "Now? Now,

we go on living our normal lives. The police will take care of all this. Since our DNA was changed,

we will never be connected to this."

I nod. "Lets just get out of here. Please? I think I hear people running down the hall."

She nods. "Yeah. Lets go." We sprint out the way the soldiers came in. I see that Emma

had taken care of the other soldiers. There are soldiers with claw marks across their chests and

faces. We make our way out of the building and work our way back to the front. After putting a set

of sunglasses on, we pretend that we were normal and that we don't know what happened. But

we were not normal and we would never be normal again.

by Dakota Martin

Artist: Jake Riddle (ceramic)

Die Well

It is true, we should break the bones of life

And suck out its sweet marrow, carpe

Diem, live life to its fullest.

Each moment we live is a

Chance to experience

For its own sake. But,

What’s it like to

Experience

Dying by

Will?

I

Say this

Because it’s

Not how we live

That we’re remembered.

We are remembered by

The manner in which we die.

So live life well, but die even

Better, in the pursuit of a dream,

Protecting those you love and adore,

Or leave a memory to never fade.

by Robert Rizzo