Poem by Audrey Buttry Dear You, Every time a baby opens its eyes for the first time, A flower blooms Every flower is unique and beautiful Just like every person All flowers go through their ups and downs in life Just like all people do When you look at yourself in the mirror, You shouldn't point out only the negatives Instead You should realize that all flowers have positive a negatives In everything In their appearance And the way they act and the things they do You should also know The flower that bloomed the day you were born Was the most beautiful one of all Love, Your Friend Prose by Shawn Buttry On the southern edge of London a small girl around the age of 4 by the name of Katrina with her parents walking into the park. “Look, it's a butterfly!” Katerina exclaimed excitedly. She ran ahead to get a closer look. And though Mommy warned her to be careful she darted ahead as fast as she could, she just had to catch that butterfly, or at least see where it was going. Katerina was running for what seemed like a very long time, and she started to lose her breath and slow down. Just as she was going to stop to catch her breath, she tripped and fell into a small field of flowers. After a bit of Katrina laying there to catch her breath, she realized something had changed. Katrina stood up to see where the butterfly had gone, but when she was looking around the better question was where had she gone. Katrina spun around and around in circles a few times to try and see where the butterfly had gone, or better yet her parents or even the park itself. Katrina stopped and stared when her brain finally registered the big tree right in front of her, but the oddest thing happened when she looked at the tree. It began to glow and weird symbols and drawings curved up the tree Until it was covered in runic-like drawings and a door appeared in the center. Katrina turned her head around cautiously, not really wanting to take her eyes off of the tree, and she called out “Momm-.” But she cut off, the voice that came out of her mouth was not her own, in fact now that she looked back since she b-, … since she b-. … Actually, She did not remember what happened but since she was in this weird unfamiliar place none of her thoughts even were like their own, it was hard to describe but her thoughts were more mature like the adults and she focused on other things and saw things differently. Suddenly she got an idea. “Mother!” Katrina said in a slightly louder voice, as she started to walk around the tree. She exclaimed with a small victorious giggle. She proved her hypothesis, she was right, what she had started to notice is that her voice actually had started to sound more like her mother’s, or one of the older whiney girls they call teenagers. Another theory popped into her head, she walked around the area she was in which turned out to be a wooden room with nothing in it but the tree. And as she was walking back towards the front of the tree she muttered, “If there was only something reflective here.” She then looked up and couldn't believe that not only had the door turned into a very magical-looking reflective material that it clearly wasn't before, but also Katrenia looked like a younger cuter version of her mom. This threw Katrina through a loop and she almost missed the door opening. But when her magical makeshift mirror disappeared she snapped back to reality, and oh there went gravity she was sucked through the door. Katerina didn't know how to describe it but it was how she had always imagined teleporting would be like; one minute you’re here next zap then you're someplace else. That is indeed what happened; she zapped and Katrina was in a large meeting room that could only be described as the inside of a tree carved into a tired rotunda seating arrangement. Katerina spun around to see what else she could identify. She confirmed that it was indeed some sort of giant hollowed-out tree, much bigger than the one back in the room. The entire thing was seating layered in tires and once it got to the back of the wall it would jut out again and then be held up by pillars connected to the one above and below, and this system seemed to go on forever. Except in one little slice of the circle, there was nothing but a large, very extravagant yet elegant, with only three people in there. AND THEY ALL HAD WINGS! They were all tall, elegant, and slender royal humans, except they had enormous wings like a colorful translucent magical butterfly with a human body! “Hello, my people,” The lady in the middle of the box said. “Welcome, for those who do not know I am your queen, Queen Kalabatu, and we have a special guest tonight.” The crowd erupted into cheers. Katrina looked around and noticed the whole audience had their own unique set of wings, everyone but her, and now she was paying attention Katrina noticed that the people around her were staring and whispering at her. Then the one thing she didn't expect happened, she poofed again to the middle of the room where there was no seating except the floating metal disk she was standing on, and the last thing she remembered before passing out was the queen saying. “Everyone please welcome our human champion for the bloom games for our clan to earn the golden nectar, her human name was Katrina but you shall know her by her arena name; Veronica. Photo by Lyriel Hankins Artwork by Salaya Chowdhury
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i reach in the bag and grab my last gently lay it on my tongue i crave it, a hug of love smooth and sweet your love is like a peppermint refreshing, tongue melting i leech and suck it into bits although I’ve had more than the recommended one or two i just can’t seem to get enough of you “why do you eat so many,” my “doctor” says, “they run your blood sugar up. what you’re experiencing is not love.” but the taste and feel it gives is addicting i turn back each time, despite the pain it gives me i run my tongue through its cracks the cuts it gives me, is it fighting back it hurts, it bleeds, it stings like a bee but I perhaps this is the cost of it loving me i assume this is the price i must pay to get a fix of what makes me feel loved each day whatever I must endure to ensure it stays my bittersweet peppermint i let you have each round, you win everyone around me notices my wounds they want me to let go of my addiction my addiction is you. -Tamika Maney You are peppermints and candy canes and a breeze in the wind Your soft smile is what I think of before my day begins It’s a tragedy, what happened when we fell apart So now I stick to bitter sweets that tame my fragile heart You were the first snow on winters day and fresh Christmas cookies The joy of waking up to the presents Santa left under the tree Like a song that lifts the spirits and brings holiday joy But as time goes on the joy is gone and music is just noise For my list this year I wrote that I would forget your voice And as the days keep passing by, I feel it’s the right choice To put away the decorations and start something new Because every time I eat peppermints I think of you -Kayla Tabon Hunter\s
by JJ Pitts The best way to describe the body was grotesque. Dark purple bruises against deathly pale skin, limbs twisted in malformed inhuman ways. The skin nearly stuck to the crinkled muscle and weak bone, the mangled form completely drained of blood. They looked more monstrous than they ever were beforehand, a scaly tail not nearly as horrifying as their scared, blank eyes. We were wide eyes and silent, staring down at it with an indescribable expression. “Well,” Eight started, crossing his arms. “That was disappointing.” I couldn’t quite say I disagreed with him. I expected more of a fight from someone who talked so much, and especially for someone with such a bounty on their head. Still, it irked me to hear him complain. “A bit, but still. I spent forever finding this job for you,” I responded, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. “Tsk. I had a craving. Plus, you needed the money, didn't you~? I led you to a nice kill.” “Whatever… don’t get so cocky.” I swung by bat over my shoulder, looking over the body one more time before I turned away. “You gonna find your own way home?” “Yeah, that was my plan.” He licked his fingers, showing his sharp fangs and long tongue. “Thanks, I guess. Didn’t think a lizard-folk would be in the area, but ‘spose I can’t complain.” “That’s why you called me in the first place.” “Fair enough… My registered hunter knows everything.” “Well, my registered vampire better leave before someone sees him near the body.” “Short temper tonight, huh?” He looked me up and down with a sincerely infuriating expression. His perfect face seemed so delicately punchable. Maybe, if I looked hard enough, his pale blue eyes were just a target. “I have to get home before David does, he had work today,” I said, desperately trying to mask the anger in my voice. Eight nodded slowly. “Ah. Gotta please the himbo. Got it.” With that, he let his claws out, and skittered up the wall. “See you at school then!” He called after, leaving me alone. Seeing him go, I sighed to myself. It was easy to hate Eight, or at least get annoyed with him. I’m certain he could hunt for himself without a problem if I left him, sure, but letting him know I hunted was my worst mistake. All of a sudden, he could turn me into the police if I didn’t find him a snack at the worst times of day. At best, it was a ‘bedtime snack’, meaning he’d pull me out of class. At worst, it was now, and he decided he wanted some rare creature for lunch. “It’s your job, plus you have insomnia anyway,” would be his usual excuse, which led to me slipping on clothes and checking the list at 3 in the morning. I didn’t have much choice but to let it go. I had already begun waking to my house, taking side streets and alleyways as much as possible. The blood staining my shirt and skin would shine under the streetlights. I hopped over the fence into my neighbor's yard, an older reclusive man who rarely left his house. In the summer, I helped him with his garden. In return, he didn’t question my behaviour. I hopped one more fence, then booked it to the lattice. The back light flicked on when it sensed my motion, causing my legs to pick up speed as I scrambled into my room and shut the window. My brain worked like a computer, immediately processing the next best steps. I’d need to change and shower, soak my clothes in chemicals and lay back down before anyone saw me. Of course I’d need to be quiet too. If I woke up mom, I’d have trouble that I was too exhausted to deal with. And if I woke up David… “Ahem.” The noise startled me out of my thoughts, causing me to freeze as I looked to my bed. David sat there, crossing his arms and looking at me with a firm expression. My plan broke apart in my head as I reprocessed my options. Really? All the options I had now were to face the repercussions of my actions. “David…” I started, but he interrupted me before I could finish. “You were hunting,” he said. There was an unknown amount of anger in his voice, carefully masked by a neutral expression. David wasn’t usually angry, in fact most say he’s too soft for his size. Him passing six feet in height with a body that doesn’t bother to hide his frequent visits to the gym, his gentle smiles and kind behaviour were a frequent point of teasing him for. Now, I see a side of him that they should be grateful not to know about. “It was for Eight, he called me…” “You accepted money though, I watched the transfer.” I pressed my lips together, trying to hide my fearful expression. “I mean… he was already on the list, I figured why not, yknow?” “Why are you looking at the list in the first place? I thought you said you cut contact.” “I did, I just took a pe-” “No, you didn’t. You’ve made quite a bit more money than tips would make you in the last couple weeks.” “Have you been checking?” I felt anger rise in my throat, pushing the words out beyond the thick blob of anxiety that dripped through my jaw. “You gave me reason to,” he got up, causing me to flinch back. “We agreed to stop this.” “There’s no harm in it, David. Once they’re on the list, they’ll be gone within the month.” “That doesn’t mean we can continue that cycle!” He threw his arms up, raising his voice. As I pressed my back to the wall, I watched him regain his calm, carefully tucking the anger back into his chest. “There are monsters who have made it off the list, and even if not… doesn’t it bother you to be the one that kills them?” “I certainly think the money is a nice treat,” I hissed. Anger, guilt, and emotions I couldn’t quite describe flared within me. Tears pricked at my eyes and my fist clenched at my side. “It’s not like you’re much better.” “That was in the past, I don’t do that anymore. And neither should you. It’s wrong. Imagine their families! What if they had parents wrong for them, or children,” “That doesn’t change anything,” I said over him. He continued. “Friends at school or work, people who depend on them,” “Then kill them too! It’s not like you hesitated to!” I let my voice raise to a shrill scream, gesturing to him with a near flail like motion. I nearly lost control of my limbs as anger replaced the blood in my veins. He paused, then turned to me fully. A tear leaked down his cheek as he yelled, his booming voice shaking me to the core. “Or what if they had a brother, Ryland?! What if someone killed you?!” The room fell to silence. We stared at each other with anger and tears in our eyes. I felt regret take root in my stomach, causing a sinking feeling as it wrapped itself around my heart. I opened my mouth to speak, but a stale emptiness fell out instead. David finally released the tension, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be yelling at you. I just…” “I get it,” I choked out. Shame. That was the feeling. If I were honest, maybe it was there all along. “I never saw it that way.” He crossed his arms, then sat on my bed. He patted the spot next to him. I let my legs work like a dummy on strings, dragging me to sit next to him. Of my own accord, I leaned against his chest, allowing him to wrap an arm around me. “... Did we wake up mom?” I asked. “No, she's a friend's house,” he answered simply. I nodded against him. I listened to his heart beat slow, felt the emotions drip out of my eyes to leave me with a strange numb feeling. He slowly began to run a hand through my thick, curly hair. We were silent like that for a while. Maybe a little too long. Maybe just long enough for us. “I’m sorry,” I finally said, curling into him more. “It’s okay… I get it, I was like that at your age too,” he responded. “Still… I should have put it together.” I felt him shrug. “Not your fault, you don’t have to assume everyone's thoughts all the time. It’s just,” he paused, searching for words. “It’s not like you hide your lycanthropy.” “Unlike you?” I questioned. “Unlike me,” he confirmed. “Which is fine, it makes you happy to embrace who you are. But you met my old friends. Other hunters… they lack sympathy. They’d look at your cute little face and see a target.” I nodded, letting him have a moment of babying me. He’d put in the effort our mother could never give in raising me, I couldn’t blame him for his younger memory of me. “I guess I had a completely different perspective of that…” “Care to tell me about it?” … “I missed hunting with you,” I admit. “You… did?” “Yeah,” I sighed. “It was something you taught me to do, something we did together. Plus, it gave us a hope of getting out of this terrible house. And one day… you said it was wrong. Mind you, it’s not like I’m so heartless that I think murder is okay. I just… detached I guess. It was a job. Maybe I was even projecting a bit?” “Projecting?” “Let’s face it, I’m not much for appreciating the zest for life. Plus, I’m bad at connecting to people anyway. It was just… normal. To me they were nothing. Their families were nothing too. Nobody means anything most of the time. I know it sounds messed up but…” “No, it’s okay,” he reassured me. “You’ve been through a lot, it might be some sort of dissociation.” “Don’t get all therapy talk with me.” He chuckled. “I’ll try not to…” He laid back, so I was laying on him completely. “Man… I messed you up. You miss the wholesome brotherly activity of murdering people.” I laughed. “Don’t forget the bounty hunting part,” I joked. “Oh, of course, and the oppressive system,” he shot back. We laughed for a bit, and I finally let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll stop, don’t worry. This’ll be the last time.” “Good… and, if you need to for Eight, find someone who deserves it at least.” “That’s fair…” “And keep it ethical… at least try, I know he won’t.” “Got it! Alright! Shut your mouth, I’m going to bed,” I said with a smile, cuddling up to him more. “Okay, okay… I’m assuming I’ll be staying here? … Goodnight, Ryland.” Mumbling my response back, I let his voice fade into a calm light. Tucked into his arms, feeling a sense of safety, I let my tired head drift off to sleep. For the first time in a long time, I found myself at peace. Unholy Breath by Cohle Naumann My breath at night stutters in fright Sound asleep I pray to keep The air that which putters featherlight But then I feel, of the corporeal, a cold grips desire to reap. Crawling unto my lung They squeeze with claws of dark Growling hunger beads from their tongue Dripping and stripping my gut like stringybark. My body still asleep forgets to scream Jumpstarts my heart--thereupon my eyes next leap I am not where I ought to be! They misdeem! In the night I cross the river styx, my soul reaped--in the air is song of Hades’ threap. What have you done! Oh, weakling lung Jinxed by thine own--I lie undone. Artwork & Poetry by Kaitlyn Hurst
He sat on a cliff where the wind blew silently, overlooking the cities blaring lights and flashing sirens with calm, peaceful tranquility. He sighed sadly, looking down at the flowers in his hand, and taking out two petals, letting them fall off into the city, dancing in the wind as though their landing was random, and not destiny.
As he sulked, a crack in the earth sounded behind him, causing him to jump. He gripped the flowers, careful not to let them fall. A man came out of the earth, stretching lightly. A black T shirt with a black and white sleeved undershirt adorned him, his black jeans sagged a bit, and pale white skin almost glowing in the moonlight. He looked to the man on the cliff, and almost startled to see him. “Oh…” His voice was deep, and raspy, hints of evil intention stuck on his tongue with his words. “Hello, darling~ What are you doing up here~?” “Ah, uhm…” He paused, wondering if he should answer the man. It was obvious he was a demon, and he wasn’t supposed to speak to his kind. But, he himself was a very nice man, so he supposed a small chat could do no harm. “Just my job, it’s Valentine's day, almost the end of it… I’m just giving a bit of love..!” He smiled softly, and picked off another two rose petals, throwing them to the wind. The demon hummed thoughtfully, walking over and sitting down beside the other man. “A cupid, I assume..? I suppose they’re everywhere this holiday… we should talk a bit, hun~, my name is Akiel. What’s yours..?” He paused, then spoke quietly. “... Esmaor… it’s lovely to meet you, Akiel…” He was a little tense, almost scared of the man in front of him. He felt exposed, his light pink and white outfit contrasting the demons darker tones. His short black hair and dark skin almost made him blend into the night, and he was tempted to turn and run. But instead, he decided to give the evil spirit a chance. “Lovely name, Esmaor~” He commented with a smirk. “What are you doing up here, all alone. I’d assume a cupid would be the most excited for Valentines.” The man nodded slowly. “Yeah, most are… but, I don’t have anyone.” He shrugged, and picked off another two petals, letting them fall. “So I’m giving love to other people, with each pair of rose petals that fall on two people, they’ve officially found the love of their life…” He sighed deeply. “I don’t have a love, so I thought I might as well give to others.” Akiel frowned a bit, his confident smirk fading to a frown. “You have no one..? Don’t most cupids always have a lover?” Esmaor nodded solemnly. “Most do, yeah…” He didn’t know how to respond, his normal, manipulative attitude dropping. He repositioned a bit, and looked to the cupid, resting his head on his hand. “You have so much love to give… have you ever considered trying to find someone for you?” His voice was gentle, softer. Esmaor looked at him, almost surprised, then just shrugged. “A couple times, but no one really seems to like me for too long. So, I’ve just kinda accepted it. I’ll be okay alone…” He teared up a bit, but just looked away, blinking them out of his eyes. “But, you’re nice, at least you seem to be. I mean, you talked to me...” He chuckles, the cupid glancing over with blatant curiosity. “Well of course..! You should give everyone a chance, no matter what the species… and, I was right. You’re very nice, Akiel.” he smiled, just a tiny bit, and the demon smiled back. “I try to be when needed, especially with someone so kind and beautiful…” He smirked again, then looked out to the city. A couple more petals were plucked gently, floating down across the wind. “... you know, there’s a couple hours left before the day’s over… maybe, we could spend it together..? I don’t have anyone either.” Esmaor nearly jumped, almost shocked. “Really..? You seem like you would, you’re really.. You’re really cool..” He shrugged, and scooted closer. “Well, I don’t… and I think you’d be an amazing person to spend this day with.” The cupid paused, considering, before he smiled, and scooted to him as well. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to…” They leaned against each other, before a strong gust of wind went over them both, and two petals fell off the bundle of roses in Esmaors hand, gently landing in each of their laps. -JJ Pitts the gift of love streams from my fingers as my ink pen tattoos the paper this is for you if you do not want it i will find another worthy individual forever i am here and forever i will care you i will put first before myself because that is love it is free and ever changing you will be the one i am good for blessed we will be -Revah M. Hands by Louis J. Krampus by Salaya Chowdhury
The Giving Cohle Naumann Prologue The Monster of Wisconsin a letter by Tom Harris The Wisconsin Family Killer -- or more commonly known as The Puppeteer -- is the reason for the reign of terror that’s spilled into the states. Families are scared straight. Last month, three accidental shootings of family members arriving home in the night, having thought to be The Puppeteer, have been reported, two injured severely and one an instant fatality. Add that to the 8 incidents we’ve had since early August. The family murders began late July, and the world has never been more terrified. Three families -- the Dallas’ and Malaney’s of Wisconsin, and more recently, the Levi’s of Indiana -- were murdered under the roof of their own homes. The Wisconsin Family Killer has been known to murder families of four: mother, father, son and daughter. His victims white, parents middle aged and children young. With what information released from the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) we know The Puppeteer sets the bodies of his victims in position at the table, as if dining -- earning the killer his title. He has their bodies sit there while he feasts on the body of their father and husband. What I have described here is only a short look at the horror this monster is capable of. Lock your doors, hold your families tight, and make sure they know how thankful you are for them this Thanksgiving. ____________________________________________________________________________________ 1 He set down the paper, scowling in a disciplined rage. Monster. Killer. The abhorrence. The malice. He made the right choice, getting as far away from the world as he could. He didn’t want it to scare his family with what it shed. People in this world are monsters. Watching behind the pane until the first droplets of rainfall, he homed in on the grass. The blades pointing towards the sky, untrimmed. 2 It was quiet despite the scatter of rain. Outside life tended to the love and care it had the luxury of being thankful for-- the love and care it put into its families and homes. Christian put everything into his family and home, a quaint place in Minnesota. A lone ship in a sea of forestry. It wasn’t hard to learn it’s traits, it’s ins and outs. New or not, it was home. In time, they’d feel that too. He stood from the window chair, facing the fire and smiling solemnly to himself. The pictures on the mantel illustrated with light. Amanda wore her best summer dress, the one that fit her ample bosom perfectly. David sat in her lap, feet in mismatched socks dangled over her legs. He was smiling that baby toothed smile. Emily sat next to her mom, looking at something on her hand. Pieces of chestnut hair fallen in her face. He couldn’t describe in detail the love he felt for them, but he knew it was the kind that ached, that tried to jump out of his chest and run farther than he could reach. Christian loved them, through every flaw, but they didn’t have any. He protected them from the imperfect, the nasty, the ugly. He was a father, a husband. It was his job, and for that, he was thankful. Today was the golden day of all days to be thankful. Christian joined Amanda and the children at the table, everyone quiet and patient before beginning their feast. The table had been set. Two small pumpkin spice candles lit, dinner glowing and steaming. His wife sat with her feet crossed, comfortable and still. Emily’s eyes waited on the food and David’s on Dad, who commenced the prayer. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food. And for Michael. He’ll never be forgotten for his sacrifices. Let the Lord give us strength through this meal so we can live on for him, healthier and stronger. Amen.” It’s moments like these he cherishes, that he hopes he can cherish forever. The news will say nasty things, but he won’t let that get to him. He picks up a fork, picking off a piece of meat. With it sitting on his tongue, he silently thanks his wife for picking it. She always had great taste. 3 He swallowed what finally made him full. The pleasant ache in his belly stopped him as he took a look at his family; the food on their plates and a roof over their heads. How lucky does one man have to be to have something like this? Something so delicately crafted in the palm of his hand, that makes him and can break him, just as easily as he could do the same to it. Family is a confusing thing. A complicated thing. Something so ground in you-- you don’t realise it’s there. He played with the wedding band on his ring finger. It fit so snug, just as Michael did inside. Michael’s life fitly his. Artwork by Olivia Diepenbrock
The way her hair flowed in the wind. The way her smile stretched across her face. The way her eyes seemed to light up the darkness around her. Seeing her beauty was worth the searing agony I went through every night. Tears streamed down my face as her claws dug through my stomach frantically. "I love you honey." Her voice faded in and out of my ears as I lost consciousness succumbing to her darkness. Yet again I was merely her food, but her beauty made it all worth it. I love you too Ann, forever and always. -Samantha Lewis Artwork by Salaya Chowdhury
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