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WWWWWingspaningspaningspaningspaningspan

Fall 2012Fall 2012Fall 2012Fall 2012Fall 2012

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Volume 12

Fall 2012 Jefferson State Community College

Editor: Sharon DeVaney-LovinguthProduction & Design: Greg McCallisterAssistant Editors: Mary J. Doss, Sydney Savannah Pritchett, Tyler Rockwell

Front Cover Art: Painting by Ashley KitchensBack Cover Art: Drawing by Stacy Scott

Editorial PolicyWingspan is an annual literary and visual arts publication of Jefferson State Community College inBirmingham, Alabama. Its purpose is to act as a creative outlet for students, faculty, alumni andresidents of the surrounding area, thus encouraging and fostering an appreciation for the creativeprocess. The works included in this journal are reviewed and selected by a faculty advisor on thebasis of originality, graceful use of language, clarity of thought and the presence of an individualstyle. The nature of literature is not to advance a religious or political agenda, but to raise universalquestions about human nature and to engage reaction. Therefore, the experience of literature isbound to involve controversial subject matter at times. The college supports the students’ right to afree search for truth and its exposition. In pursuit of that goal, however, advisors reserve the right toedit submissions as is necessary for suitable print. Appropriateness of material is defined in part asthat which will “promote community and civic well being, provide insight into different culturalperspectives and expand the intellectual development of students.” The opinions expressed arethose of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of the college administration, faculty or staff.Letters to the editor or information on submission guidelines can be obtained by e-mail atlovinguth@jeffstateonline.com

All rights revert to the author/artist upon publication.

Volume 12Fall 2012

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Sigma Kappa Delta is the national English honor society for two-yearcolleges. The purpose of the society is to reward and encourage outstandingstudent achievement in English language and literature. Sigma Kappa Deltaprovides opportunities for advancing the study of language and literature,

developing writing skills, meeting scholars and writers, attendingconferences, submitting work for publication, and winning scholarships and

awards. Students also receive recognition of their membership in Sigma KappaDelta on their transcripts and at graduation by wearing honor cords.

As Wingspan Editor, I would like to thank the members of Sigma Kappa Delta English Honor Societywho served as assistant editors this year. Their editorial work brought a fresh, student perspective,and their excellent and thoughtful contributions shaped the magazine in new and important ways.

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PoetryPoetryPoetryPoetryPoetry

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“Tangueray” - Stacy Scott

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Butterfly’s Lament

Inside this chrysalisI look out, but venture

no where.

I am liquid, you see.

I was once a crawling,curling caterpillar,desiring every leaf,

now my body has createdthis container,

a web wrapped tightaround my hunger

and my sorrow at mycaterpillar downfall.

Cocooned, I hanghere in the garden,

hidden beneath the parsley.

Amorphous, aware,from eyes and mouth and feet,

I am a mass of jelly,secured, but unable.

So, I observe the world around medrawn to the red flowers, andthe lyrics that the birds sing-

In this land of life and dying,in this land of health and ill,

in this land of laughter cryingyou don’t know yet who you will be.

Songs of transformingas they glide along on wings.

While I remain suspended,and there is no way to leave

I am a compact case of lightningenclosed in silken threads.I am bound in my own cell,

while the night the cicadas sing-

In this land of life and dying,in this land of health and ill,

in this land of laughter cryingyou don’t yet know who you will be.

My self’s a mass of undistinguished goo.I find that there is nothing I can

do, but know this smear of greens,and long for scarlet lilies.

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A redbird troubadourshares tales of a creature

with jeweled wings, so lightafoot that she can enter,

even the most delicate of blossoms,and drink the liquid gold

from deep inside.

His ballad leaves mea jelly mold of desire,

but I doubt that Iwill ever be freed

from inside this chrysalis,inside this chrysalis,inside this chrysalis.

Laura Secord

Greg McCallister

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The One I Love to Hate

I have loved you from the beginningWhether you believe it or you don’tI have given you my everything,and done things most won’t.

I have shown you every side of methe sides most people don’t seeI have pledged my love to youforever and eternity.

I have always been there for youand have been faithful all alongI have told you, you are righteven when I know you’re wrong.I have poured out my heart and soul for youas the tears fall too.I have stuck with you through everythingto show how much I love you.

But now you’re leaving me foreveror that’s how it seemsso let me say this notethat my hearts been dying to sing.

I will not be faithfulor love you for all timeI will not cook another mealor give you another dime.

I will not stick to my moralsor put you as my firstI would rather be heartbrokenthan love you at your worst.

I will not shed another tearno matter what you sayI will not ever hold you againor waist another day.

So darling if you love meyou better start acting right,because by the time you realize you doyou’ll be missing me that night.

Lighthouse

A ship that sails across the seasA voyage lost in eternityIt seems a mishap of your own fateAs you search for the golden gate.

Fog and smoke block the mindAnd it seems bottom rocks is all you findNotice the pirate standing thereWaiting for you to parish here.

He’s posing like a humble crookBut taking all that can be took.He hopes you remain lost at seaTo steal everything but memories.

Life’s bad choices pull you underHurricanes haunt you in your slumberThe lighthouse is what you must findTo reach the golden gate in time.

Only you can control your shipAnd no crew member can help with it.You must find your way back to the lightAnd stay in the direction you know is right.

The gate is here, and here to stayAnd life’s too short to ride the waves.It’s there for anyone who seeks itLook towards the lighthouse in times of weak-ness.

Anger, Pain, Etc.

Rage. The strongest emotion of all.Revenge. The sweetest of all down falls.

Anger. The only thing she felt inside.Hatred. Was with her until she died.

Pain. Medicine to the emotionless.Suffering. What her brain constantly lived with.

Hurt. Something her appearance did not show.Death. The only thing she got to know.

Elise Mikell

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“Love At Sea” - Vero Vanblaere

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American Literature

Writing Portfolio

Literary Movement – Puritan Mary Schiermann

Pilgrim Anne Bradstreet, well educated and happily married at 16, wrote poetry despite society’srestrictions regarding what was acceptable ‘women’s work’. With typical Puritan humility, Bradstreet neversought to bring her works into public light, but her brother-in-law purloined her poems and arranged tohave them printed, resulting in Bradstreet, a woman none-the-less, becoming the first American publishedpoet. Bradstreet wrote many poems that followed the typical sacred traditions of the time, although shedid break away from all the stereotypes by utilizing humor and, upon occasion, writing poetry that placedthe love of her husband over her love of Christ.

More than riches, more than fameMore than any worldly thing Thou art to me.More than the land, from whence I cameMore than the songs I may sing Ye shall ever be.

And as the days passAnd we shall grow oldOur love shall hold fastAnd ne’er grow cold.

More than the sun, more than the moonMore than the heavenly stars that shine And all I seeMore than the lake, and the cry of the loonMore than any other could find My love for thee.

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“Charcoal Girl” - Stacy Scott

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Dancing in the Rain

It’s always been a dream of mine to dance in the rain.To live in that moment, away from my shame.I want to feel the rain run down my face.And all my doubt be erased.

As I felt the drops land on my hands,I would feel alive, and I would dance.And as they ran down my fingers,All the pain would no longer linger.

And as I danced without a care,I would feel the rain run through my hair.As my hair stuck to my face,I would dance some more with vivid grace.

And as it poured all around me,I would look up for my Father to see.That through the shame, doubt, and pain,I danced in His glorious rain.

Whitney L. Echols

Erica Glover

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Greg McCallister

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“Me, Myself, and Not You”

These tears on my pillow aren’t for you.I won’t let you break my heart.

I’m not sorry I’m not perfect or that I can’t make you happy.The truth was a cover,A shield for my eyes.

I won’t let you decide how I feel or make me think there is something wrong with me.I won’t let you make me doubt me or wish I lived another life.

I won’t let you make me.These tears are for me.

They’re on my face.They remind me I’m fragile.

But this pain in my heart is for you,Because I would never do that to myself.

You can have that.Sharon Carter

Kimberly McWhorter

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Random

I can’tMove a mountain

Stir a heartCarry a tune.

I won’tSee through the tears

Welcome the yearsAccept my fate.

I can’tReach a cloudTouch a child

Keep a memory

I won’tReceive a prayer

Return a stareLive a dream

I can’tWish on a starStray too far

Heal my wounds

I can’t.

Painful End

I’ll think of youWhen it rains, and lightening fills the sky.

You loved me then as I love you now.

I’ll think of youWhen it rains, and the day we were trapped under that bridge

The smell of fresh damp earth, waiting for the storm to pass

I’ll remember youWhen it rains.

How you protected me from the cold.How you laughed at as I confessed my fear of losing you.

I’ll think of youWhen it rains.

And how it poured the day you wished me well.

Randomness

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Save me from this wretched fateMy mortal wounds cast faithless eyes

I mourn the drops of olive dreamsCast in a passion play.

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It kills only by instinct.To survive is to completely miss the point

And after it’s overIt’s overwhelming how difficult it is

To remove the stained shavings of dead power.

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Learn how to sufferThat you may become impassive

Learn how to dieThat you may be come immortal

Learn how to restrainThat you may become worthy of obtaining your

desires.

Susan Yager

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Heart: A Poem in Two Voices

We don’t wear our hearts on our sleeves anymore.

Doesn’t that seem a funny image: suits with concave chestsand hearts sewn to the wrist, pumping, pumping, like a stress ball gone awry.

Too much blood to clean up.

Can’t you see how it falls in pools at their feet, how their shoes turn crimson at first, but then fade into asickening brown, more deadened than leaves, more deadened than wood or earth, a color that could only

be manufactured.

Besides our hearts

And their lungs, their lungs will fall at their feet. And there they will be grasping for breath, for clarity, inthose offices, as the world spins around them, with nothing to grab their eyes and hold them still.

fall into our hands.

our hands, always our bloody hands…

And we can’t stop squeezing:

Squeeze-thump,squeeze-thump,squeeze-thump.

And the heartbeats: they are the harsh beat of a breaking metronome,of a sputtering clockof the tide the day the moon blinks out of existence.

Helen Companion

Greg McCallister

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The Moon Looks Down: A Pantoum

Snow keeps warm by pressing against earth,charred wind bristles ash branches,shadows sleep under the moonlight,the leaves sing their charcoal song.

Charred wind bristles ash branches.A man huddles against the moonlight.The leaves sing their charcoal song,he digs his hands deeper in his pockets .

A man huddles against the moonlight.The wind attacks his face,he digs his hands deeper in his pockets,his boots make tracks in the snow.

The wind attacks his face,another snowstorm is coming,and his boots make tracks in the snow,he sits and huddles against an ash tree.

Another snowstorm is coming.The snow is wet beneath his pants.He huddles against the ash tree,but the wind still claws at his face.

The snow is wet beneath his pants,it bites through the cloth, through his skin.The wind still claws at his face,he turns his back.

It bites through his cloth, through his skin.He wants to lie down, but feels frozen in place,he turns his back,closes his eyes, and wishes for warmth.

He wants to lay down, but feels frozen in place.Shadows sleep under the moonlight,and they close their eyes, wish for warmth.Snow keeps warm by pressing against earth.

How to Write A Sestina

In order to write a sestina,you must start by being unsure,quickly switching from cold to hotto cold and to hot again,the temperature being like a catin the Sahara desert at dusk.

Sit on your porch at dusk,watch the clouds create their sestinas.As you watch, allow your catbeside you, her tongue lapping unsurelyfrom a cup. Look up again,wonder if milk would be hot

if left out. It is hot;There is a heat about dusk.Forget. Forget about the poem again,Look around. Everywhere, there are sestinas.Not just in the cool, unsureripples your cat

makes, the gentle clink clink your cat’steeth make as she tips her hottongue against her cup. In unsureclouds, sestinas. Not just in duskeither. And mosquitoes make stinging sestinas.Crumple a sheet of paper. Again.

Now throw it out, again and again.Eventually, sensing a toy, your catwill chase it. Wonder what a sestinareally is. The pen will feel hotin your hand. Take some paper. Duskis now ending; Be absolutely sure

this time you will write it. Surely,you will crumple it up again.Don’t get a flashlight, it’s still dusk;the lines are blurry. Your catwill inspect you, her paws hotagainst your arm. Write. This sestina

won’t write itself. No sestina does. Surelyby now you know that, how hot the pen feels,how againyou are unsure. And when dusk is over and yourcat is bored it will be done.

Helen Companion

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Nettie

Say, do you remember Aunt Nettie?Yeah, the big gal that used to live with us.

She’s over at the university now…I thought you knew.

A job? You might call it a job...she is being put to use.

Don’t mention this,you know how people talk,

Nettie was donated,gifted ... you might say,

to the university.They even sent us a check.It’s the truth, on my honor.

I saw her the other day,over at the university

(hanging like a smoked hamin a big stainless steel tank).

She didn’t look much like herself. ..like the Nettie we used to know.

You can imagine how it is,her being a cadaver and all.

Not “cadiver”!C-A-D-A-V-E-R !

It’s a corpse med-students cut on.I thought you knew ...

Nettie died.You didn’t?

Well, it’s the truth.You can see for yourself,

over at the university.William Squires

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“Steammuertos” - LaGina Mathis

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Honeysuckles

Honeysuckles waiting on the hill.They are like lanterns in the daylight

With flowers in hues of white and yellowGuiding all who come near.

They call out, “Come and drink of us!”For their desire is to help society

With their tasty honey and sweet smellsThose who stop and smell their sweet aroma are truly blessed!

For it is as if they have received a scent from Heaven-

So sweet and refreshing!

If only it could be bottled up-To have in season and out.

But it would not be free and wild-as it is now.And the pure splendor and bliss of it would be lost forever,

Along with its endearing charm.

Erica Glover

Greg McCallister

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There is no Eraser like that of Nature

There is no Eraser like that of Nature

To ease the Pain and Sorrow and bring about a new Tomorrow

Lie in a field of Flowers and simply pass the Hours

Watch the Breeze blow against the grass and think no more about the Past

Listen to a Waterfall and find new wherewithal

Smell a storm coming and, suddenly, find yourself humming – along

Fall asleep in the Rain as it washes the Pain down the drain

Then, to wake in the Morn and feel no more Scorn

As you dance in the Rivers that formed – while you slept.

Rachel Hague

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ArtArtArtArtArt

“Bottles”-LaGina Mathis

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“Painting Testing”-LaGina Mathis

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“Lisbon I”-Ashley Kitchens

“PatchworkPanda” - Stacy Scott

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“Maiden of Imagination”-Erica Glover

“Nail Polish Elephants” - Stacy Scott

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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“Rhaja” - Stacy Scott

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“Attack of the Monkeys” - Erica Glover

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Steven McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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FictionFictionFictionFictionFiction

Steven McCallister

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Damascus Road

Sarah Lyons nervously tore her napkin into a hundred little pieces as she sat in the booth atAl’s Diner. She stared out the window as the sun was disappearing behind the tree line. Shebreathed in deeply inhaling the mixed aroma of cooking bacon and cigarette smoke. A large manwas behind the counter cooking and sweating as he flipped meat over the hot grill. The diner’selectric yellow colored walls and hot pink seats gave the room an unusual brightness. Sarahhummed along as the neon-lit juke box played “Unchained Melody.” The waitress came over andpoured a cup of coffee for her. The small diner was empty except for an elderly couple in the cornerbooth. The little old lady was dressed in a nice green dress with a string of pearls. Her silver hair wastightly curled against her head. The older man had on a dark blue Sunday suit with a bowtie. Sarahwatched them as they ate their meal smiling and seemingly enjoying each other’s company. Shefound the idea of them getting dressed up for a date night at Al’s Diner to be endearing. Watchingthis couple was a nice distraction for her. She had been dreading this day for weeks.

Sarah heard the sound of the diner door opening, and she saw John’s tall slender framestanding in the doorway. He stopped and looked around and comically pretended he didn’t see her.He was always trying to make her laugh. She smiled at him. She thought he looked tired, like hehadn’t had much sleep and his clothes were wrinkled. His wavy blond hair touched the tip of hiseyebrows. She looked into his deep blue eyes and her heart pounded with anticipation as it alwaysdid when she saw him. He slid into the booth.

“Hello, beautiful.” he said as he brushed her brown hair away from her eyes. Sarah felt theblood rush to her cheeks. “What’s this?” he said pointing to the pile of torn napkin pieces. Hescooped them up and put them in the trash.

“You’re late.” She said with a smile.“This takes time,” he said as he gestured to his body. She laughed.From the moment she had met John a year earlier in a philosophy class, they had an instant

connection. They quickly became friends. They shared a love of philosophy and literature. Johnintrigued Sarah like no one else ever had. John was agnostic, and Sarah was a Christian. She hadnever met anyone before who did not believe in the existence of God. Sarah felt it was her Christianduty to persuade him otherwise, so she tried all sorts of arguments to cause him to change his mindto of no avail. He had told her the only way he would believe in God would be for God to revealHimself to him the way He did to the apostle Paul on the road to Damascus. Sarah and John began tospend all their free time together and eventually, they fell in love. Something inside of Sarah told hershe should back away from him, but she found him to be irresistible in every way. She wondered whyit was that what she wanted the most, she couldn’t have.

“Are you all packed?” Sarah asked.“Yep, I’m out of here after this. California or bust,” John said resolutely.“Stanford won’t know what hit ‘em.” She half-heartedly joked.They ordered pie and soon they were laughing as they reminisced about their last road trip

together to Atlanta for a U2 concert. They had gotten lost on the way and missed half the concert.They finished their pie and coffee and stood up to leave. John paid the check and asked Sarah to goon one last walk with him. They walked to a nearby park with a lake. They had come here often overthe past year.

The night air was brisk. The sky was filled with beautiful deep pink and orange hues. Theywalked hand in hand around the lake for a while.

“Do you fear the future?” Sarah asked John. He stopped and thought for a moment. Hestared at the ground kicking at the grass with his shoe.

“I thought we had something special, Sarah. I can’t understand why you’re willing to throw itall away just because of religious differences.”

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Sarah stared out at the moon’s reflection on the glistening lake. They continued walking insilence.

“I need to get on the road,” John said breaking the silence.“I made this for you,” she said handing him a cd. “It has all of our songs on it.”They slowly made their way back to the parking lot of the diner. When they reached John’s

jeep, he leaned back against the door and pulled her close. The familiar woodsy smell of his colognealways a comfort in the past, was now bittersweet. She buried her head deeply in his chest, and hewrapped his arms around her tightly. She didn’t want to let go. She could no longer hold back hertears as they freely flowed down her cheeks. He tilted her chin up and gently wiped her tears away.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered softly.“Promise me you’ll call when you have your Damascus road experience.”“If I do, you’ll be the first.”Sarah felt a flood of emotions. She wanted to tell him not to go. She wanted to tell him

maybe they could try to make it work again. Maybe love was all they needed. She wanted to say allof this and more, but her mind overruled her emotions and she said nothing.

She stood motionless as she watched him drive away. She watched until his taillights disap-peared down the road. All that was left of him was the lingering smell of his cologne on her shirt.

When she turned to leave she saw the little old couple leaving the diner, their arms linkedtogether. The man opened the car door for his wife, helped her in and kissed her on cheek.

Treasure Clolinger

Sulakshi_Danapala.

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What You See Is What You Get

CharactersBarneyEdwardBartender

Scene: Edward is throwing darts in a dirty, hole in the wall bar. He occasionally walks over to awindow and looks out. The floor is littered with empty peanut shells. The bar is scattered with emptybeer bottles. Edward is well-dressed in a suit and tie. Barney is dressed in dirty jeans and a t-shirtwith holes.

Barney walks in and is surprised to see Edward.

Barney: What are you doing here?Edward: Your mother told me I would probably find you here.They sit down at a table.Barney: You could’ve called, you know.Edward: I did- 7 times!Barney: Yeah, well uh… my phone’s been acting up. I need a beer, you want one? (sarcastically) Oh,that’s right, you don’t drink.Edward : Just get me a Coke.Barney walks over to the bar to get their drinks. While he is away, Edward’s phone rings and heanswers.Edward: Hi honey. Yes, I’m at the bar now talking to him. Yes, I’m going to be nice. Darling, you havenothing to worry about. I love you too, bye.Barney returns to the table with Edward’s coke and a fifth of whiskey with a shot glass for himself.Edward: (Points to the bottle of whiskey) Barney, it’s not even noon yet!Barney: It’s five o’clock somewhere! (He holds the shot glass up and then downs it.)What’s going on in the world of Edward?Edward: Work is going well. I’ve been working on a new project for corporate. I’m overseeing theinstallation of a new software database for all our local offices. It’s a big job, but they’ve got confi-dence in me. How is your job search going?Barney: I’ve talked to a few people. (He pours himself another drink.)Edward: Really? How many jobs have you applied for?Barney: Well, my buddy Mike works down at the steel plant. He told his boss about me and he’ssupposed to give me a call when they have an opening. I also talked to the manager at Tire Pro whotold me they might be hiring in a couple of weeks. That reminds me, I need to give him a call-Edward: Ok, let me clarify. How many jobs have you actually walked in and filled out an applicationfor?Barney: Let me think…one. It was for a shift manager position at NAPA Auto Parts. Pays 25 g’s a year.I should be hearing back from them any day now.Edward: Good grief, Barney! You have to be more proactive than that.Barney: It’s a tough economy out there, Edward. (He pours himself another drink.)Edward: You need to be out there every day looking for a job. Barney, you’re thirty years old. Howlong do you plan to live with your mother? Plus, I really need to get that money you borrowed back.Barney: And here I thought you were actually concerned about someone other than yourself. I toldyou I’d get the money to you and I will!

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Edward: (Exasperated) When?! You told me you would get to me 2 weeks ago.Barney: Some stuff’s come up. The transmission in my truck went out again, and I had to take my dogto the vet-Edward: There’s always some kind of excuse! I should have never loaned you money! What was Ithinking?! If you weren’t Katherine’s brother, I’d-Barney: (laughs) You’d what? (makes a gesture with his hands to “bring it on”) You’re all talk! I don’t needa sermon from you! My sister could’ve done so much better than you.Edward: Yeah, If she’d married someone like you?! (laughs) Someone who can’t hold a job, and stilllives with his mommy who still cooks all his meals and does all his laundry. Someone who neverfinishes anything he starts, and who is a lazy, irresponsible drunk!Barney: (angrily stands up and takes a swing at Edward and misses) You self-righteous S-O-B! You thinkyou’re so much better than me-Edward: I am! (Edward throws his drink in Barney’s face. Barney lunges at Edward knocking his bottle ofwhiskey over. Edward picks up a chair to hold Barney back. Bartender walks over.)Bartender: Knock it off you two or I’m calling the cops!They sit back down.Barney: At least with me what you see is what you get. Now you…..well you’re a piece of work.You’ve got your fancy car, nice house, high paying job, good family. You’ve just got it all together,don’t you?Edward: This isn’t about me!Barney: (leans forward, closer to Edward’s face) What if…just what if you don’t?Edward: What are you getting at?Barney: Let’s just say I ran into a friend of yours….Edward: What are you talking about?Barney: Let me tell you a little story. I was sittin’ right over there (points toward the bar) the other daywhen in walks this pretty lady, and she sits down next to me. I can see she’s crying, so being thesensitive person that I am, I ask her what’s wrong. She starts telling me about how her boyfriend justdumped her. She’d been with him for 2 years and he dumps her out of the blue. She says she lovedhim, and she was pretty torn up, so I say, “What kind of jerk would treat you that way?” She says, “Amarried one.” I say, “Sounds like he used you.” She said, “I don’t think he used me, I just think Edward’sconfused.” I asked her, “Edward who?” And she answers, “Edward Sterrit.”Edward: So what? She’s not talking about me. I’m sure there’s plenty of other people named EdwardSterrit around here.Barney: No, actually there isn’t. I checked. Besides she knew where you worked, where you lived,and she even knew Katherine’s name.Edward looks uncomfortable.Barney: The way I see it, you’re in a whole heap of trouble. I’m sure this would all be very interestingnews for Katherine.Edward: She won’t believe you.Barney: I’ve got some pretty damning evidence. I’ve got Candace’s number, and I just bet she’d behappy to talk to Katherine.Edward: You wouldn’t!Barney: Well….let’s see…maybe we can work something out.

Treasure Clolinger

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Greg McCallister

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The Right Price

Maggie fidgeted in her chair as she rocked the plastic canvas back and forth between herfingers to make the red and green JESUS focus in and out. Though it was September, and the airconditioner still rattled incessantly and the green-yellow leaves on Sugar Maples out front still clungtightly to their limbs, her mom’s Sunflower Sunday school class was crafting Christmas presents forhomebound saints or those who’d be in the hospital then. She took a quick look at her watch: 9:50,“Terrific,” she mumbled under her breath, then threw Jesus on the table.The Old Biddies, as her mom sarcastically called them, were already gathered around the long foldingtables, cackling. But it wasn’t a Tuesday morning craft and hen session that brought them by today.No, today was Thursday, and her mom had invited the Biddies here for another reason, a more impor-tant reason. More important even than every Christmas tree and Jesus they could nail down toplastic.Maggie felt her cheeks flush as she watched her mom flutter about the room, serving coffee andpound cake. She and the Biddies giggled like four-year-olds having tea with Barbie, and the more hermom fluttered, the hotter Maggie got. But she knew,no matter how mad she was or how red her ears burned, she couldn’t leave. And why couldn’t sheleave even when her mom had tricked her into attending this little party?

Maggie, of course, knew the answer, even as she asked the question; most good lawyers did. She wastrapped by a higher law. Correction, Maggie thought, the highest law: Propriety. A Southern Ladysimply couldn’t violate the twisted, tangled messy obligation to behave even when good sense andpsychological preservation demanded she misbehave. So even though her mom had tricked her,and even though she was supposed to be in her downtown office prosecuting criminals instead ofstaring at a life size cut out of Bob Barker pointing at a homemade banner stretched across the wallabove the Fabulous Big Screen Television saying, “Come on down, Maggie Adams, you’re the nextcontestant,” she couldn’t leave.

Maggie dropped her head on the table.Of course, the irony of this warped, Salvador Dali moment was that the cross-country drive to

California had been all her idea, a surprise for her mom’s seventieth birthday. Ever since Maggie’sdivorce, The Divorce, her mom whispered, when she referred to it at all, the two had been in somesort of relationship fog. Maggie didn’t know if her mom blamed her, or felt sorry for her. Either way,they didn’t talk to each other about it or for that matter about much of anything else.It was amazing, really. They could be in the same room, literally sitting next to each other, yet unableto communicate or understand one another on the simplest level. Maggie wanted to shake thingsup, so she had thrown their suitcases into the trunk of her silver Bimmer and said, “Let’s ride, Mama.”Lizzy Adams had dropped her plastic shopping bags next to the passenger door and took off hersunglasses to clean them. She stared at Maggie while circling the dark lenses with Kleenex. “Honey,”she said in a sweet southern drawl, “it’s is such a long drive. Are you sure we shouldn’t fly? You know,it’d be easier on everyone if we did.”

Maggie lifted her sunglasses up on her head and stared back from the driver’s side just long enoughto size up her opponent. She stuck out her thumb, an old prosecutor’s trick, “One, you hate flying,”then came her index finger, bang, “and two, the point of the trip is for the two of us to spend sometime together.”

The cleaning stopped, and out popped Lizzy’s thumb, “One, give me a Valium; I’m good to go,”quickly followed by her index finger, “Two, we can spend time together once we’re there.”POW, a direct hit!

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Maggie’s soft, green eyes narrowed, as she placed her fingertips on top of the closed sunroof.“You’re not going to miss that show, Mom. You’re not going to miss any of the four shows for which Igot tickets.” She realized her tone, let out a breath, then calmly tucked a stray auburn curl behind herear. “I promise. I want to spend some time with you. We’ll do some fun things along the way, ok?”

“Hell’s Bells, Maggie, why didn’t you just say so,” her mom said, as she put on her sunglassesthen piled into the front seat with her shopping bags. “I was just making a suggestion, that’s all. Ican’t help you drive once we get out of town. You know, I don’t see as well as I used to,” she said,shutting the car door.“I know you’re tying to help, Mom,” Maggie sighed, while opening the drivers’ door, “but we’ve gotplenty of time.” She started in, then spotted the nest of plastic at her mother’s feet, “Why don’t you letme put those in the trunk?”Her mom looked down at the bags, then threw her head against the black, leather seat. Her whitehair turned into a mangled helmet that covered half her face. The sweet

drawl was gone. “Maggie, I just want to have some snacks along the way, if that’s ok? I’m not gonnatrash your pretty little car, and if I make a mess, I promise to clean it up.”Maggie dropped her head against the door. What the hell had she been thinking?

The living room was quiet now. So quiet, that Maggie remembered her surroundings. She lifted herhead and her mom was sitting in the Lazy Boy; the theme music rose. The Biddies left the tables andpiled together on the sofa and loveseat near the television, snacking on pretzels and cheese curls asthey excitedly waited for the main feature to begin.Her heart pounded; it always did before opening arguments. The announcer’s voice was like a foghorn, “Michael Roberts, come on down.” Her ears throbbed. The horn made another blast, “WendyWarner, come on down.” This is crazy, she thought. It wasn’t that bad. Blast. “Linda Stutzman, comeon down.” After all, she won lots of, “fabulous prizes.” Blast. “Maggie Adams, come on down.” Frozen like a rubbernecker surveying human wreckage on aroadside, she watched the camera pan back and forth across the studio audience. Her face burnedbecause nobody came on down.“Where is she?” Ida Cummings wanted to know.Her mom laughed, “Just wait.”Blast. “Maggie Adams, please come on down,” the announcer pled. The camera jerked frantically backand forth and the horn blasted, “You’re the next contestant.”

Suddenly, her mom squealed, “Look!”Maggie felt her heart pound in her head, as she watched the panning stop. Thecamera had found its mark: a screaming, white haired woman hopping up and down, while pullingthe collar of her pale, shrunken victim, cowering in a heap of disbelief.

“Look at her,” Caddy Stansfield hooted, “she’s white as a sheet.”Lizzy slapped the armrest; “My poor, baby girl was froze up tighter than a bull’s ass at fly time.”

“Well, who’d thunk it,” Ida couldn’t let it go, “she can demand the death penalty, but she can’t moveher feet to ‘COME ON DOWN’!”

The camera finally pulled back as Lizzy yanked her scared little girl to her feet, and as Maggiewatched herself stagger toward the empty slot on Contestant’s Row, she found it harder to controlher rage. The lawyer inside, however, knew if she didn’t get hold of herself and the situation, theshow wouldn’t be on television. It’d be here in her mom’s living room, in front of the Biddies. Sheswallowed hard, then bellowed, “Hey, guys, ya know, I’m sitting right here.”Caddy spoke right up, “Sorry, Maggie. We’ve just never seen you so out of sorts.”Maggie forced a smile, “Well, Caddy, I must admit it did take me a few minutes to find my sea legs.”

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“That’s all right Maggie May,” her mom sang out, “cause once you did, Baby Girl, you found em good.”What, Maggie’s brain popped, as she turned quickly toward the Lazy Boy. Her mom’s tone had caughther totally off guard. She watched her mom watching the

television, stretched out and smiling from ear to ear. Every angry wrinkle was gone; her skinsmoothed with delight. She was positively glowing.“Ya’ll watch now; Bob tries to throw her off by picking at her, but she won’t have any of it. He had hisfun, but my Baby Girl showed’em, like she always shows em.”You’ve got to be kidding; Maggie thought as she fell back in her chair. Did she really hear what shethought she heard? Was her mom proud, actually proud? This was insane. She honestly didn’t knowwhether to laugh or cry, but knew she could do neither, being trapped in her own corner of proprietyhell. Besides, she couldn’t be mad at her dear, old mom, could she? After all, mom might actually,finally be proud.Now, was Lizzy proud when her baby girl graduated in the top five percent of her law school class?Well, maybe on the inside where it really counts. How about when Maggie argued before the StateSupreme Court, or when she finally broke through the glass ceiling to become the first female, Depu-ty District Attorney of the Felony Division in Madison County, Alabama; was her mom proud then?Well, if she was, Lizzy didn’t say. Maybe her mom was afraid saying so would cause her baby girl torest on her laurels. And really, what’s law school or being the Deputy District Attorney compared tostumbling your way into a “Fabulous Showcase?”Maggie pushed herself away from the table and headed for the kitchen. She needed a drink, a realone. She knew it was a long shot, but when her dad was alive, he kept an old bottle of bourbonhidden in the back of the pantry for special occasions, orespecially bad days. This certainly qualified as an especially bad occasion.Her trembling hands quickly rummaged past the instant noodle soup and variousdented and disregarded canned goods to the back corner of the top shelf. “Please, behere,” she whispered. After a few desperate moments, she felt the cool, long bottleneck. Bingo!She looked over her shoulder and saw the Biddies cackling about the television. No one even no-ticed she was gone. She quickly grabbed the prize, poured the elixir into a large Styrofoam cup, thenreturned the treasure to its hiding place. She took a small sip, as she headed for the fridge, smoothand hot. “Yes,” she said, quietly, while grabbing some ice. A little ice, a splash or two of water, and in afew minutes, she’d be able to handle anything.“Hey, Maggie,” Caddy called from behind, nearly exposing her plan,”Why you hiding in here?”Startled, Maggie turned to find Caddy leaning over the open bar counter into the kitchen. “Nothing,”she slammed the freezer door, “I’m just getting a drink, that’s all.”Caddy’s soft eyes turned hard for a moment, as she studied Maggie. Then, just like that, they weresoft again and she smiled. “How come you always bid a dollar?”“What?” Maggie was confused.“On the show,” Caddy’s voice became loud, like she thought Maggie wasn’t paying attention. “Everytime, Bob asked for your bid, you bid one dollar. Why?”“Oh that,” Maggie sighed, as she headed toward the kitchen sink. She twisted thefaucet knob like a seltzer bottle, shooting three quick bursts of water into her cup, then rocked it backand forth, before taking a big gulp. It was just the way she needed it, sloshed not stirred. The coolliquid warmed her as it went down, making her shiver and giving her goose-bumps.“Well,” Caddy demanded.

Maggie took another sip, then turned toward her, remembering. “Ya, know Caddy, Bob wonderedabout that too.” She could almost see his sneer as she mockedhim, mocking her, “‘let me guess, one dollar.’ “That’s right, Bob. My Mama always says when you don’tknow the price, bid one dollar.”

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Caddy smiled, “She does that, doesn’t she!”Maggie took another sip. “All the time!” Then, she pointed the cup toward the wide screen, “You’dbetter watch. I’m on stage.”“Oh,” Caddy said, then quickly left. Alone again, thankfully, Maggie made a mocking toast to herself before taking another drink,then heading toward the sliding, glass doors overlooking the backyard.The Big Screen reflected in the glass. She heard the Biddies’ cackle, but somehow, suddenly, it didn’tmatter.It was kind of funny seeing herself up on stage, standing there like a sullen, scared wooden Indian,embarrassing herself on national television. Maggie quietly laughed as she watched herself staringat Bob as he tilted the wooden price metronome backward and forward, demanding to know if shewas “coming or going.” Back and forth, the price clicked, clicked, clicked, while the audienceshrieked.“‘Well,’ he finally insisted, ‘what does your mama say?’ “Well, Bob,” Maggie finally cracked, “Mamaalways says it’s better to be coming than going.” Then, she popped the wooden plank backward,snapped the price into place, and damn if she didn’t win a trip to “Sunny, Los Angles, California,”airfare included, the perfect companion to a Big Screen television. Who the hell knew?

Your mama, that’s who, Maggie felt the flush of creeping rage and quickly took another drink. Sheswallowed hard and closed her eyes, hoping the bright sun would melt away the anger the bourbonhad missed. She marveled how this feeling could wormits way into her mind when she least expected it, wrecking havoc and instantly changing her into aweak, little girl. She didn’t understand why it mattered what her mother thought or didn’t think, andhated that it did. After fifty years, Maggie was getting tired of counting the cost, so for today at least,she figured she’d numb the pain.After a little while, she noticed how good the radiated light and heat felt to her, and her body relaxed.After a few more moments, her thoughts and even the Biddies’ laughter had disappeared into thetinkling wind chimes. She listened for a bit, then knew the wind was coming from the east becausethe hollow, bass of the bamboo chimes overpowered the airy, soprano of the Balinese. She smiled;still amazed that after all these years she could still tell which way the wind blew by hearing the orderof the chimes.“Do you I really sound like that,” Lizzy’s desperate whisper broke into Maggie’s meditation.Maggie’s eyes popped open, and she saw her mom hovering right behind her inthe glass. Lizzy’s face reflected in her own, as their green eyes and ruddy, cheeks merged. Sheswallowed, “What?”Lizzy bent closer, “I said,” she whispered again, “Do I really repeat things all the time? You know, likewhat you said, I said, at the Big Wheel: ‘Shoot the moon! No guts no glory?’ Do I say that?”

Flushed, Maggie turned toward her mom, then the Big Screen, then back toward her mom and saidquietly, “Yes.”Lizzy’s eyes got big, “All the time?”“Yes.”Her mom leaned her head against the glass doors, “Hell’s Bells.”“You say that too,” Maggie said, gulping the bourbon. “All the time.”Lizzy took the cup from Maggie, taking a long swallow. “Ahh,” her body shook. Her eyes narrowed.“How many cups have you had?”Maggie grabbed back her drink and said indignantly, “Just this one.”

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“Good,” Lizzy whispered as she hurried toward the pantry, “that means there’s plenty left for me.” Shelooked over her shoulder and out into living room; the Biddies were still glued to the tube. Sheshrugged. “I like to take my medicine with coke.”Maggie stared as she watched her mama pour, pour again, then pour some more into her cup. “Idon’t believe it.”Lizzy stared back then put the bottle in its hiding place. “Your daddy’s been dead nearly two years,”her voice went lower, “You didn’t honestly think you’d find one of his bottle’s nearly full?” She took asip, winched, then said softly, “I’ve had a few bad days myself since then.”Maggie put her cup down on the counter, “I know you have.”“Do you?” Lizzy said as she mixed her drink. Then, she grabbed some ice from the freezer beforesitting down at the table. She took a long drink, cleared her throat then said, “If you didn’t want be onthe show, why’d you take a name tag?”

Maggie closed her eyes, “I don’t know. Maybe, I thought you’d be disappointed if I didn’t join in.”“I see. So even though, I never asked you to take me on that trip or to that show, it’s my fault?”“No,” Maggie sighed, opening her eyes.“Good,” Lizzy said, then took another drink. She swallowed hard, then fanned herself. “So, the nexttime I start handing out advice the way Carter’s doles out little liver pills, you’ll just have the commoncourtesy to tell me to shut up, won’t you!”Maggie blew out a deep breath, like she’d been gut punched, then headed for the table with her cup.She sat down in sunlight right across from her mom, squinting. “I’m not sure I want to do that,” shesaid, sweetly. “The last time I told you to shut up, I ending up marrying Jimmy, and we both knowhow that turned out, don’t we?”“Things happen, Maggie. Your Granny Irene didn’t want me to marry Ed. I didn’t listen to her any-more than you listened to me.”Maggie smiled, hoping to break the tension. “But there’s a big difference. You proved her wrong.”Lizzy lifted her cup. “Did I? Cause, you do know there’s more than one way of being divorced.” Shetook a drink.Maggie’s eyes grew big. “What?”“Ya know, I’m beginning to think your Daddy and me should have fought around you more ofteninstead of hiding out in the bedroom, or in the garden. If we had, maybe you’d know how to countyour blessings.”

Maggie felt flush again and snapped. “Just what blessings am I supposed to be counting, Mama?”“That law degree you’re so proud of for one.”She shook as she leaned forward to face her mom. “Of course, I’m proud of that degree. I worked myass off to earn it.”Lizzy leaned forward herself, staring Maggie right in the eyes. “I’m proud of your degree too. Justwho do you think worked her ass off to pay for it? Just who do think listened while your daddycomplained every time dinner wasn’t ready or the house wasn’t picked up when he got home? Didya ever think about that when ya had it framed and mounted on your office wall?”Maggie fell quietly back against her chair.Lizzy sat back. “What’s wrong Maggie, cat got your tongue?”Caddy barged into the kitchen interrupting them. “So here’s where you disappeared to,” she saidstruggling to put on her coat. “Ya’ll missed the showcase.”Lizzy looked at her friend. “It’s ok. We know how it turns out; we were there.”“She won you a truck, and you said, she doesn’t listen to you,” Caddy said as she spun around trying tofind the other end of her belt.

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Lizzy looked at Maggie and said, “I reckon I was wrong about that.” Then, shegot up and grabbed the dangling belt, giving it a yank, “Ya looking for this?”Caddy’s eyes grew big as she snatched the belt back. “I see you’ve been drinking that store-brandcoke again.”Lizzy pinched her cheek. “No máam, I got the real thing.”

Caddy pushed her away, “Oh, you!” Then, she looked at Maggie, “I don’t know how you put up withher sometimes.”“It’s hard,” Maggie said, wryly while looking at her mom. “But then again, she has to put up with me,so I guess it all comes out even in the wash.” “So, it does,” Caddy said, as she reached into her overcoat pocket. “We made something for you.Here,” she handed Maggie a rectangle, plastic canvas, with a brilliantly yellow stitched JESUS sur-rounded by an equally bright, blue border. “Did your mama remember your favorite colors?”Maggie took the gift, “Yes.”“I know you think we’re a bunch of silly old coots.”“No-”“Hush,” Caddy stopped her. “Maybe, we are silly; I don’t know. What I do know is that your mamaworries about you; we all do. You see so many dark and ugly things where you work. Those thingscan take your hope if you’re not careful.” She smiled, softly, “Maybe, you could put this someplace andlook at it every once and a while just to remind yourself, ya got someone that cares about you.”Maggie felt her eyes water, as she cleared her throat. She looked at her mom,smiling, “Thank-you!” Then, she looked at Caddy, “I know just where to put it.”Caddy’s milky, blue eyes narrowed.Maggie rolled hers, “In my office. I know just where to put it in my office.”The Biddy winked. “We’re heading over to the Cedar Post for lunch. Why don’t you come with us?”

Maggie stared at the yellow stitched JESUS, realizing that the whole time she’d been angry about theAttagirl her mom couldn’t give, she’d been missing what her mom could and did give. She didn’twant to miss that anymore. “Well, it’s like Mama always says.”Lizzy’s face melted. “What? What do I always say, now?”Maggie smiled as she got up from her chair. “If you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound.”

Lizzy laughed. “That’s the spirit,” then reached for her coat hanging on the rack by the door. “I’mdriving, though. You had more water than I had coke.“Please! You had way more coke in your cup, than I had water in mine.”“But, I only drank a few sips of coke; your cup is nearly empty,” Lizzy insisted. “Besides, wouldn’t theold boys downtown just love it if the Deputy District Attorney were pulled over cause she couldn’thold her water.”“Ya know what,” Caddy interrupted them, “neither one of you is fit to drive; so if you want to go, you’regonna need to ride with Ida and me!”Lizzy’s jaw dropped, “But I want to drive my new truck.”“Hell’s Bells, Mama,” Maggie laughed, as she got her coat and put Jesus in her purse, “You should havethought of that before you poured yourself a coke and a smile.”Then she grabbed her mother by the hand and gently squeezed it. Her voice was much softer.“Come on, Mama, we’ll let someone else drive for a change.”

Pam West

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“Wereweever” - LaGina Mathis

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

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Greg McCallister

60

A Second Chance

Bobby sat in the middle of his cold, candle-lit shop, feet and hands bound to a chair. It was lateafternoon, and he could see Topeka’s darkening streets out his storefront window. A tall, gaunt figurestood over him, waving the barrel of a Colt six-shooter in the air. The man’s tan chaps were worn thinand the spurs on his boots clinked ashe paced the dirty plank floor. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled low, concealing his hair and eyes.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you for quite some time, Crenshaw,” the man said.“Well, here I am.” There was no point in arguing with a crazy man with a gun, Bobby thought.

He’d probably just shoot you for a liar if you tried to convince him of your real name. “So, now thatyou’ve got me all tied up, what can I do for you?”

“Don’t play dumb with me boy. You know what I’m after.” The man shook the gun as he spoke.“Well, if it’s the gem you want, then I’m sorry. I sold it years ago to a trader out of Dallas.”“That ain’t what I heard.”“Well then I’m afraid you heard wrong.” Bobby fidgeted against the ropes and the man back-

handed him across the face. Drops of blood dripped off Bobby’s lip and stained his denim shirt. Theman grinned.

“Last I heard you was usin’ it to transport yourself to another world and bringin’ back thesehere artifacts and trinkets you fill your shop with.” The corners of the man’s mouth grew wetter as hespoke. Bobby wondered if he might start drooling.“Well now, wouldn’t that be nice. But why, might I ask, would I still be here, tied to this chair, if I had agem that could transport me to another planet?”

“You got it hid somewhere. That’s why. Now, you can either point me to it, or I can turn every-thing in this shop upside down lookin’ for it.”

“If I had it, I would tell you where it is.”“We’ll see.” The man turned to his left and started opening the boxes and cookie cans that

were resting on the shop’s dusty tables and emptying their contents on the floor. Bobby winced ashis life’s work was scattered and broken. Delicate seashells from the shores of Rodya’s oceans turnedalmost completely into dust beneath the man’s groping hands. A glass wind chime from Rodina,made to signal the city’s first breeze, shattered. The man moved further down the table, and Bobbyhad had enough.

The chair he was in was old and rickety. It always creaked and twisted when he settled into it.Bobby pushed up with his toes, raising the front of the chair several inches, and then let it fall androck forward a little. The man was too busy pilfering to notice the movement or the sound.

Bobby repeated the process several times, gaining momentum by rocking, until finally the chairtipped over backwards. He flexed his arms and legs as hard as he could against the ropes, and thechair broke into pieces when it hit the floor. His hands were still tied together behind his back, but hislegs were free, and he immediately found his feet and hurled himself toward his captor.The man turned to see what the commotion was just in time to get bowled over. Bobby was back onhis feet in seconds. He ran to the back of the shop and pushed aside a curtain leading to his personalstudy.His desk was littered with books and scrolls, as it always was. The shelves that lined the walls werecovered with the same. A dim, oil-burning lamp was still lit, casting its liquid glow on his surround-ings.He walked around to the front of the desk, pushed his chair aside, crouched down with his back tothe drawers, and opened the third one down. He felt his way to the back right corner and retrievedthe talisman.

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Its polished surface felt familiar to his fingertips, and he could see in his minds eye how it gloweddeep green, like the slime on a pond in spring, whenever he held it. The man with the gun was curs-ing and throwing things aroundthe shop. Bobby closed his eyes and whispered, “paloosa” into the air.He didn’t even have to open his eyes back up to know where he was. Sunlight penetrated the shad-ows made by his eyelids. The cool darkness of his study had been replaced by dry heat, and the airwas no longer still. The breeze carried with it the scent of seaweed and rotten fish.Bobby opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. Memories flooded his mind and washed away quicklywith the sound of the waves.The surface of Rodya was mostly ocean. It had many small islands, but only one landmass that couldbe considered a “continent” by earth’s standards. It was on the southern edge of this continent thatBobby stood, hands still bound behind his back. The landscape was almost completely desert, withthe occasional oasis made up of freshwater pools and palmetto-like trees.He looked east and could see Rodina, Rodya’s capital city on the horizon. He made his way there,stumbling occasionally because he didn’t have the added balance of having his arms free. As heapproached, the city’s magnificence renewed itself in Bobby’s mind.The walls were high and made of marble, reminiscent of the days when Rodina defended itselfagainst a motley crew of lawless thugs known as the Ving, and they encircled nearly five hundredsquare miles of roads, houses, farms, and castles. Bobby was met at the front gates by two Ilaneguards armed with spears that shot laser pulses out of the business ends. They were fierce lookingcreatures, with heads like a saber tooth tiger, bodies like a bull, and arms like a human. They remind-ed Bobby of the mythical Centaur, only a different combination.“Back so soon, Bobby?” Everyone on this planet spoke Clomersa, and Bobby had learned the tonguewell over the years.“Yes, I must see Greshall at once.” The language tickled the back of his throat as he spoke.“This will not help your cause, Bobby. Showing up here like this.” The creature on the right motionedtoward his bonds as he spoke.“I know. Cut me free, please. I have one final argument to present to His Grace. If it does not sway him,I will concede defeat.” Bobby couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice.

“Your friendship has brought much good to our city. My own son was brought from the brink ofdeath by one of your healing potions. It is for this that I will cut you free and not mention it to theking. But be warned, he will know of it.” The creature’s voice held much weight. The Ilane rarely spokefreely.“I am in your debt.” The Ilane guard used the sharp edge of his spear to sever the ropes and then ledBobby to an iron door beside the gate. The hinges rubbed together hard as the door opened, emit-ting a grating noise, like a train on full stop. A Dinjin ambassador wearing a brown leather cloak linedwith indigo brine-fur stood on the other side. His pallid human-like face was blank, emotionless, andhis long, tentacle looking arms hung loose about his sqiddish legs. The Dinjin were known for theirintelligence, and they usually made their living as councilors and advisors to kings and merchantsthroughout Rodya. This particular one, Yelmsworth, if Bobby remembered correctly, was one of thechief advisors to the king.“Hello Bobby.” The Dinjin gave a slight bow when he spoke. “I trust you are well, excepting, of course,for the small cut on your lip?”

“Why, yes, of course.” Bobby nervously wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve.“Have you news for the king?”“Yes, I seek one last audience with his Grace before he makes a decision.”“Very well. I’m sure he will be delighted, as usual. He takes great pleasure in your visits. Follow me.”

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The Dinjin turned and moved smoothly across the stone ground toward the castle. Bobby could feelthe eyes of Rodina’s citizens penetrating the composed façade he tried to wear. Hushed voices andsurreptitious glances followed him like a nagging dog.They arrived at the castle and were allowed through the doors with no confrontation. The halls weretorch lit, and the floors were covered with red satin runners. They navigated around corners, up stairs,and through great rooms with large cypress tables laden with crystal dinnerware. Banners hung onflag poles bearing the sigil of Rodina, a Jungyan warrior, not unlike Greshall himself, bending his kneeto Thoros, the god of fire and friendship.The Dinjin paused halfway through one of the great rooms and turned to Bobby. “You must wait here,as usual, while I alert the king.”

“Yes, of course.” Bobby spoke and the Dinjin gave another bow before disappearing down a hallwayat the other end of the room. Bobby paced the large expanse of the great hall, rather than sit down.His thoughts came and went quickly as he searched his soul for the right words. Persuasive words. Hispalms were beginning to sweat when the Dinjin reappeared and motioned for Bobby to enter.Greshall sat alone at one of the small, round tables inside his antechamber. His hulking figure washunched over a plate of a concoction made from fish eggs and seaweed known as gimli. His skin waslight brown and looked like the bark of a water oak tree. Two horns, twisted like a ram’s, grew out ofhis forehead, and his jaw was broad and regal. The rest of his body looked mostly human,but…bigger.He looked up and smiled his broad, toothy grin as Bobby approached. “Why hello my friend. Please,take a seat.” The King motioned toward a chair across from him. “You are early. I assume you havefound what you were looking for?”“Well, your Highness, not in its physical form, but I know the evidence will be obvious if you wouldallow me to...uh, present it...properly.”“By all means old friend. Present it.” Greshall’s deep base voice boomed, echoing off the thick stonewalls.“Well, what about our doctors and lawyers. If there’s anyone who stands for truth, justice, and benev-olence, it is they.”Greshall let out a long, guttural sigh and pushed his plate aside. “We’ve had this discussion before,Bobby. You must bring me specific evidence if that is your argument!” Greshall pushed his indexfinger into the table top, poking it at every word. “We have been watching for a Millennium! We haveobserved countless of these doctors and lawyers! Not one has integrity. Not one!”“Allowances must be made for humanity, Greshall! We are mere Mortals! We make mistakes! I knowthere is someone. There has to be!”“Not that we have seen. And it only gets worse, year-by-year, day-by-day, only worse! Had you notstumbled upon that gem twenty years ago, the human race would not exist today. We have wantedto annihilate them for almost as long as we have known of them in order to give planet earth tosomeone more responsible. Do you know how many planets there are out there capable of support-ing life? A handful. That’s how many. And there are many races who would be much more capable ofusing her resources properly. We have only delayed because of you.”“I am truly grateful for your delay, but you must give me more time!” Bobby was pleading now.“And what of the condition you were in when you arrived?”Bobby looked down at the table. He had no answer.“Why do you care so much about these humans? Look how they treat you! I have offered you richesand honor and a place at my side as one of my advisors! And you shun me for this!” Greshall pointedto Bobby’s lip.“And what kind of man would I be if I gave up on my own people? How would you expect me tosleep at night when my family and friends are dead?”

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“The last of your family died last year, and you haven’t had a friend on earth since you started cominghere.”“Humans are still my family.”“Well then you may go and die with them.” Greshall motioned for the door and Bobby rose andwalked toward it, silently contemplating some last word that might change the King’s mind. A thinfilm separated him from reality, as if everything that was real really wasn’t. He barely noticed theDinjin advisor take him by the arm and lead him toward went, and the Dinjin asked him more thanonce if he was okay.As they reached the door to the outside of the city, the Dinjin wished him the best of luck and Bobbyleaned over and vomited before walking out into the desert. The bright sun reflecting off the paleyellow sand failed to penetrate the haze that held his mind trapped inside like a cocoon. The Ilaneguards kept their gaze strait forward, pretending not to notice him as he staggered back the sameway he came.He couldn’t believe it had actually come to this. Greshall had always treated him with so much re-spect and dignity. How could he treat the entire human race with so little?Bobby weighed his options, wondering if anyone on earth would believe him if he went public aboutwhat he knew. They probably wouldn’t, and even if they did believe him, it wouldn’t matter. Rodinahad hundreds of thousands of warriors, all armed with spears like the Ilane’s, and all carrying gemslike the one he had in his pocket. His race didn’t stand a chance.As he came to the location that would transport him back to his shop and groped in his pocket forthe talisman, he noticed riders approaching. It was three Dinjin, flanked by the two Ilane guards fromthe front gate.They must be afraid that I will warn my people, Bobby thought. They are here to imprison me.The lead Dinjin dismounted and moved forward. “The King has sent a message for you, Bobby.”Bobby turned and faced him, stolid.“You have failed to see, Bobby, that the King was merely testing you. In the process of trying to proveman’s worth by finding a truly good man you have proven your own worth as the only good man onearth.”The Dinjin produced a scroll.“Rodina would like to offer you this treaty between your world and ours. As long as there is breath inyour lungs, humankind is safe, and the King would like for you to continue your quest for a truly goodman. If you find him, you are to pass to him your talisman and this treaty, both of which he shouldbring to our city when you are dead.”Bobby’s hand shook as he took the scroll and unconsciously gripped it in his fist, the thick papercrumpling in the middle. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, but he didn’t want them to seehim cry. He fingered the gem in his other hand, and whispered a quavering, “paloosa” into the air.

Jeffrey Nolen

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NonfictionNonfictionNonfictionNonfictionNonfiction

“Alabama Shakes” - Jeremy Gordinier

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Hanging Out at The Beach: Experiencing the 2012 Hangout Festival

In 2010, a new beach tradition started in Gulf Shores, AL. Amidst the sand, sun, condos, andocean blue emerged a music festival. Now, just 3 years in, the Hangout Festival has become one ofthe premier music experiences in the nation. This year, my friend and photographer Jeremy Gordinier,and I, took to the beach to get an up close experience of the Hangout Festival. What we saw was aseries of awesome musical displays and sun-soaked fun and frivolity. The next few pages of wordsand pictures will attempt to chronicle this fantastic festival voyage.

Part One: Thursday‘s Pre-Party

Upon arriving at our hotel on Thursday afternoon, Jeremy and I embarked to take part on theHangout Festival Pre-Party. The main stage and amenity setup had already taken place for the week-end of excitement ahead, but this served as a fun appetizer to the upcoming 3 day main course. TheThursday setup was limited to 2 stages. One, a large main side stage, was mainly dedicated to provid-ing a night club atmosphere of laser lights and high energy EDM music. The other option was insidethe Hangout Restaurant complex and catered to a more scaled down string and brass musical ele-ment. Jeremy and I engaged in musical viewing at this stage, and we were very entertained by theNew Orleans based double header of The Dirty Dozen Brass Band and The Preservation Jazz HallBand.

Both groups emphasize brass instrument led jazz sounds. In addition, they both are very bigon audience participation and love to make their respective shows into a Nola style musical party.This was a fun and upbeat musical entrance into what would be an overwhelming next 3 days ofmusical variety and talent. The Pre-Party itself was well attended and demonstrated, even in scaleddown form, the draw of the Hangout Festival. I speculated, at the time, that such a sharp level ofinterest could eventually lead festival organizers to add a full fourth day to the festival schedule.Either way, the Pre-Party was a success and started the 2012 edition of the Hangout on a roaringgood note!

Part Two: Friday Fun Day!

We arrived at the media area around noon on Friday. To the credit of the Hangout organizers,the media area was all anyone could ask for in terms of work space and accommodation. In addition,it provided a balcony style view of the 2nd Main Stage. This allowed for some great concert viewingover the next three days. Friday‘s schedule started with a raucous beginning in the form of up andcoming rock group Sleeper Agent at the 2nd Main Stage. A few weeks prior to the festival, I wasfortunate enough to engage in a phone interview with the group‘s keyboardist, Scott Gardner. Herelayed to me a great deal of youthful enthusiasm mixed with a mature savvy about his group‘sefforts. I came away from the interview and the band‘s live performance with the distinct impressionthat this is a band headed for a huge level of success.

Sleeper Agent‘s live show truly demonstrates their strengths as a band. Indeed, their stageperformance is a mix of high energy rock and tightly mixed musicianship. I always hesitate to makecomparisons with past bands because every group has their own magical formula and personality.While obvious rock and pop musical influences come through in Sleeper Agent‘s music, they bring anenthusiasm and swagger that is all their own. A particular draw is the co-lead vocal capabilities ofsinger Alex Kandel and guitarist-singer Tony Smith. They have a dynamic duo quality that really

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serves as a lightening surge for the band‘s live show. In addition, the main core of the band (JustinWilson on drums, Lee Williams on bass, Scott Gardner on keyboards, and Josh Martin on lead guitar)provides, as the song mood dictates, a thunderous roar or cool breeze of musical backing.

After catching Sleeper Agent, I was fortunate enough to sit down with members of the bandThe Revivalists. Because of logistical issues, I was unable to see their live show the previous day at theHangout Festival Pre-Party. However, a good listen to their studio and online live recordings gives thelasting impression of a strong musical mix of sharp instrumentation and joyful grooves. I had thepleasure before the festival of giving a thorough listen to their latest 2 albums, Vital Signs and City ofSounds. Both albums are examples of high musical quality mixed with energetic vibes.

Based in New Orleans, the band boasts a diverse group of musical elements: (Ed Williams:Pedal Steel Guitar, David Shaw: Vocals, Zack Feinberg: Guitar, Rob Ingraham: Saxophone, GeorgeGekas: Bass, Andrew Campanelli: Drums, Michael Girardot: Keys/Trumpet). Speaking with severalmembers of the Revivalists really gave me some great insight into how a band should go about itsbusiness. They really struck me as mature, time-tested, and very knowledgeable musicians. Indeed,the Revivalists discussed their music with passion and a focus on the importance of practicing theircraft at a continually high level.

“Sleeper Agent” - Jeremy Gordinier

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Throughout the entirety of the festival, our concert selection was very diverse and to be sure,there was not a bad show on the docket. On Friday, The Alabama Shakes played the 2nd main stageand really energized things. The group has come on strong over the last year due to significant liveshow buzz and a great debut album entitled Boys and Girls. Originally from Athens, AL, the groupspecializes in a strong mix of STAX Records Memphis style R &B with straightforward rock and, attimes, punk and pop influences mixed into their songs. The star of the group is lead singer BrittanyHoward. Her voice was in fantastic form for their Hangout performance. Not to be outdone, her bandmates provided a wonderful wall of sound to complement her powerful leading role. It was a treat tosee a local band on the verge of international stardom bask in the glow of an enthusiastic home statecrowd.

After the Shakes show, we grabbed a bite to eat and took a break until the Chris Cornell soloacoustic concert on the Main Stage. Cornell‘s most famous for his very successful years as lead singerof the rock group Soundgarden. That band, which helped define the alternative rock scene for twodecades, recently reunited and is due for big things in the future. However, in the time since their lastrun, Cornell has kept quite busy. He spent a few years in a very successful venture as lead singer ofthe band Audioslave and embarked on several highly regarded solo tours. His acoustic show did notdisappoint and really highlighted his superior vocal range. Mixing a unique and well selected mix oforiginal and cover songs, Cornell revved up the large early evening crowd with a soaring one manshow. As a longtime fan of the MTV Show Unplugged, I have always found it a fascinating treat to seehard rock and typically “plugged in” bands perform in an acoustic live performance. With just hisacoustic guitar and not much else, Cornell wailed beautiful music on ballads and rockers in a way thatwas a great fit for the energetic beachside atmosphere.

The finale of Friday was a stellar show by the illustrious Jack White. Attaining his greatest fameas the lead singer and guitarist of the blues rock band the White Stripes, White set out on his own thispast spring. In doing so, he released a very highly thought of debut album, Blunderbuss, and em-barked on a tour with 2 separate backing bands. Both bands took their turn on the stage at theHangout Festival, and each brought their own unique groove. White‘s show demonstrated his power-ful guitar chops and a wailing vocal style that kept the energetic beach side audience in a cosmicblues-infused frenzy. Indeed, his show was a fantastic way to end Friday‘s festivities.

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Part Three: Saturday Special

One of the highlights of the Hangout Festival truly was interviewing some great up-and-coming bands. On Saturday, I was pleased to talk to the band, Tauk. Based in NYC, the band exempli-fies funky musical experimentation and rock-infused sounds. I was fortunate to sit down with theentire group: Matt Jalbert (Guitar), Charlie Dolan (Bass), Alric “A.C.” Carter (Keyboards/Organ), IsaacTeel (Drums). The band demonstrates a great chemistry, and their camaraderie made the interview areal joy. Since the interview, I have listened to their 2011 debut album Pull Factors several times, andwith each listen, I am continually impressed by their intriguing musical stylistics. All three “up andcoming” bands I was able to interview at the Hangout Festival (Sleeper Agent, The Revivalists, andTauk) are all very special groups that deserve a long listen at your earliest opportunity. All three havethe musicianship and energy levels that will allow them to make magical contributions to the musicscene for years to come.

Saturday’s concert festivities kicked off with the great Randy Newman. Mr. Newman’s best-known claim to fame is being the song writer and singer of many a great pop and pop rock hit fromthe 1960s forward. I was very excited about finally getting to see him live. Newman put on a fun showthat included of some of his best-known hits like “You`ve Got a Friend in Me” and “I Love L.A.” Howev-er, perhaps the highlight of the show was when Mr. Newman ventured into local territory and talkedabout forming his great song, “Birmingham,” about the Magic City just up the road.

Next, the stage was cleared for a set by the punk rock band Gogol Bordello. Their concert wasenergetic, raucous, and led to one of the more festival friendly mosh pits I have ever seen in my manyconcert experiences. My partner in crime Jeremy, while taking a number of great photos of GogolBordello, also partook in the mosh pit festivities. It was something that, by his own account, he’dprobably not done since the late 1990s.

Continuing the punk rock theme became the task of Flogging Molly. A unique mix of Celticfolk and fast-paced punk musical overtones, the group mixed in familiar and new cuts. A particularhighlight was a new song about the former British military dictator, Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell infa-mously launched bloody attacks on the Irish people during the mid-seventeenth century. Indeed, hehad no love lost for the Irish, and this is something the band noted in the song‘s introduction. It was afitting historical note for a band that, in their show, demonstrated a clear knowledge of and musicaltip of the hat to the best of Ireland‘s grand musical legacy.

The Saturday Finale was a rip roaring set by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The ever-present Flea on bassguitar and Anthony Kiedis on vocals led the main stage extravaganza. Flea was definitely the show‘shighlight with his otherworldly ability to play the bass. However, Kiedis and Company did a nearperfect job accompanying the bass virtuoso as RHCP put on the best show of the entire HangoutFestival. I was blown away by the entire spectacle, and it ranks as one of the great live performancesI’ve seen in many a year.

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“Revivalists” - Jeremy Gordinier

Part Four: Sunday‘s Finale

Sunday’s festivities began with the great Mavis Staples on stage in the early afternoon hours. Stapleshas long been a legend in gospel and blues circles, and she is well-known for her great live perfor-mances. On Sunday at the Hangout Festival, she very much lived up to her reputation. The highlightof the show was her touching tribute to her longtime friend, the recently passed away Levon Helm, ofthe great rock group, the Band. With her cover of the Band song “The Weight,” Staples demonstrated aspecial, spiritual connection with the late Helm and the beach side audience.

Next up on Sunday was musical virtuoso Steve Winwood. Long a rock ‘n roll star, his pastmusical highlights include turns in rock supergroups Blind Faith and Traffic. Backed by a stellar back-ing band, Winwood provided a clinic in superb live musicianship. His magnificent handling of boththe guitar and keyboards was an amazing viewing experience. The concert demonstrated his exper-tise in blues, rock and soul music. Indeed, Winwood`s performance showed why the label “musicalgenius” is properly applied to this British rock legend.

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Steven McCallister

The early evening festivities revolved around the second main stage for a spectacle of allspectacles. Specifically, this one involved the band The Flaming Lips. Long known as a festival scenemainstay, they performed a mix of their own tunes and a special full rendition of the legendary rockalbum Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. The show was filled with over the top pyrotechnics andan excellent musical frenzy. In total, this would have easily been a proper main event at almost anyfestival.

Finishing off the Sunday lineup fell upon the legendary jam band rock group, the DaveMatthews Band. I left the show most impressed by the great musical capabilities of their powerfullead guitar player, Tim Reynolds. Matthews himself is a bit understated on stage but does an effectivejob, making sure that all the excellent musicians in his jam band party group get their moment in thespotlight. Hanging out on the beach, listening to DMB cause its fans to sing and sway in unison, was afitting way to bring a smooth end to the festival.

The Hangout Festival demonstrated the best of life at the beach, music, and fellowship. I wasblown away by the energy of the performers, the enthusiasm of the crowd, and the solid organiza-tional structure of the festival. The Hangout Festival is a tribute to the people of the Gulf Coast. Withthis musical cavalcade, they have a diamond in the sand to enjoy for many years to come.

Zac Alexander

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Greg McCallister

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Index

Ashley Kitchens ................................................................................................................................................ Front CoverAshley Kitchens .................................................................................................................................................................. 24Elise Mikell ............................................................................................................................................................................. 8Erica Glover ......................................................................................................................................................................... 12Erica Glover ......................................................................................................................................................................... 20Erica Glover ......................................................................................................................................................................... 25Erica Glover ......................................................................................................................................................................... 29Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 13Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 16Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 20Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 26Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 27Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 31Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 32Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 33Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 34Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 35Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 37Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 38Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 39Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 40Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 41Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 42Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 43Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 49Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 57Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 58Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 59Greg McCallister .................................................................................................................................................................. 7Greg McCallister ................................................................................................................................................................ 71Helen Companion ............................................................................................................................................................. 16Helen Companion ............................................................................................................................................................. 17Jeffrey Nolen ....................................................................................................................................................................... 60Jeremy Gordinier ............................................................................................................................................................... 64Jeremy Gordinier ............................................................................................................................................................... 66Jeremy Gordinier ............................................................................................................................................................... 69Kimberly McWhorter ........................................................................................................................................................ 14LaGina Mathis ..................................................................................................................................................................... 19LaGina Mathis ..................................................................................................................................................................... 22LaGina Mathis ..................................................................................................................................................................... 23LaGina Mathis ..................................................................................................................................................................... 56Laura Secord ......................................................................................................................................................................... 7Pam West .............................................................................................................................................................................. 50Rachel Hague...................................................................................................................................................................... 21Sharon Carter ...................................................................................................................................................................... 14Stacy Scott ........................................................................................................................................................................... 11Stacy Scott ........................................................................................................................................................................... 24Stacy Scott ........................................................................................................................................................................... 25

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Stacy Scott ........................................................................................................................................................................... 28Stacy Scott ............................................................................................................................................................................. 5Stacy Scott .......................................................................................................................................................... Back CoverSteven McCallister ............................................................................................................................................................. 30Steven McCallister ............................................................................................................................................................. 44Sulakshi_Danapala. .......................................................................................................................................................... 46Susan Yager ......................................................................................................................................................................... 15Treasure Clolinger ............................................................................................................................................................. 45Treasure Clolinger ............................................................................................................................................................. 47Vero Vanblaere ..................................................................................................................................................................... 9Whitney L. Echols .............................................................................................................................................................. 12William Squires ................................................................................................................................................................... 18Zac Alexander ..................................................................................................................................................................... 65

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