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Fall 2019
Christina Dixon
Letter from the Editor
everything an artist makes
has the possibility to impact
something else. Whether thatTs
connecting to otherTs experiences
by conveying your own feelings in
a piece or trying to make people
think differently about the world
by, making something with a
strong message attached.
With itTs depart from being an
exhibition catalog, I hope the
Rebel can, in the future, be a
place for the students to shine
and be recognized for their talents
and hard work. I hope it can be
a place of promotion and help
develop a community of creatives
that people can find, connect
with, and grow through, like the
one I found my freshmen year.
ItTs grown me to what I am today.
Enjoy REBEL
The first time I stepped on to
ECUTs campus I could tell there
was a vibrant and creative
energy to it. Being an art student
and a writer myself, ITm glad
I attended a school that has
allowed me to explore and find
out the different ways I can
be creative. ITve met so many
amazingly talented people in
my time here, from rappers to
designers to photographers
and so many more. My goal for
this publication was to display
the diverse art of ECU and help
promote the things students are
making here. I believe the artists,
designers, and musicians here
really are making great works
all the time and doing so with
intention. The slogan for this
yearTs book oCreate your wave?
came with the idea that
Katie Church
Editor in Chief
3
Contents
You, the Candidate
Kayla Clark
7
Apollo
Jurman Leviston
11
13
Whole Sun
Jensynne East
RCAW Poster Designs
London Perkins and Corey Diohep
15 & 16
Porch talk
Ryan Winter
19
Pro Outdoorsmen
Diana Mungaray
21
Living with Depression
Kenzie Sharp
23
Enlightenment
Caroline Waggoner
25
Warmth
Reagan Herndon
27
Deficit
Autumn DeMartino
31
Paths
Dylan Fick
33
35
Escapade From Business
Kofi Sackey
Gift
Kamile Anderson
39
The Ocean Has Betrayed Me
Kiara Jenkins
41
WhereTs The Party?
Quinn Pagona
43
4
Bloom Black Boy, Bloom
Jay Coachman
45
The Wise One (Higher Self)
Jay Coachmanv
46
47
Bath Bomb
Hunter Davis
By the Light of Our Moon
BTucker
48
49
Resolve
Pete Borsay
50
Roadbull
Pete Borsay
Presidents with Wings
Made of Gasoline
Noah Lee
53
Mildred
Rachel Breitinger
55
Lola
Rachel Breitinger
57
Gluttony
Jonah Wall
59
61
Greed
Jonah Wall
63
W.I.N (WhatTs Important Now)
Caroline Waggoner
65
Mountian is Swallowed Whole
by SurvivorTs Guilt
Noah Lee
Hiding
Noah Lee
67
5
Tea Blend Vessels
Sephra Reyes
69
Vessels
Meghan Cashmore
71
73
Scales of Steel
Michael Austin
Sheathed
Adam Atkinson
75
State of Mind
Marcus Jannette
77
78
Pastel Roses
Diana Mungaray
79
Soft Sheil of Love
Christina Dixion
White Scarf
Meghan Cashmore
81
Think About it
Christina Dixon
82
Enduring
Sienna Evans
83
Heavenly Father
Jahad Chris Carter
85
Stop and Smell the Roses
of Memory Lane Autumn DeMartino
87
Animation
91
Film
93
Music
95
6
7
You, the Candidate
Kayla Clark- Graphic Design
oYou, the Candidate is an informational and interactive
display. The display centers around two iPads that allow
participants to design their own political campaign with
aesthetic choices including color, personalized type and
semiotics. Participants can then return to the display at a
later date to retrieve their very own campaign button which
is attached to the display via magnet. You, the Candidate
prompts participants to consider how aspects of design
in political campaigns and how these aspects influence
their political preferences. Participants also consciously or
subconsciously visualize themselves as candidates when
they see their names on a campaign button.?
8
9
Kayla Clark- Graphic Design
10
You, The Candidate
11
Jurman Leveston-Graphic Design
12
Apollo App Design
13
Jensynne East- Graphic Design
14
Whole Sun Package Design
15
00
London Perkins (Left) Corey Diohep (Right)- Graphic Design
oApollo? by Jurman Leviston
16
00
Research Creative Achievement Week Poster Designs
oWhole Sun? by Jensynne East
Corey Diohep
London Perkins
Porch talk
My father sat me down in the freezing cold,
on seats of concrete and ice,
and asked me if ITd like a coat.
I shrugged, indifferent.
A heater buzzed around us,
coaxing a peaceful lull out of the starry sky.
Tonight was steady,
puffy clouds floating seemingly forever.
When the coke in my mouth went flat,
I took a languid glance at my father.
Watching as he sucked in smoke,
exhaling puffs through his nostrils,
Demons ready for their assault.
Thus began the porch talks.
Lessons of morals and dignities,
Seeping acid into my throat
and drilling migraines into my head.
Ryan Winter
19
His words had rhythm.
Doted by the beat of the bass above us,
a barrage of curt thoughts,
edging me towards oblivion.
He asked if I was cold.
Yet again I was met with that question,
God was speaking down from the heavens,
inciting hellfire.
So I spoke to him,
in whispers and crackles,
snapping out replies,
bubbling up failures,
and he listened,
deadlocked into a stalemate.
In the end we both went inside.
Ours embers in an ashtray,
and our thoughts rising,
exhaust in the breeze.
20
21
Pro Outdoorsmen
Diana Mungaray- Illustration
oThis piece was designed for an article about a couple that
had high expectations for a honeymoon in the Amazon
jungle. Unfortunately, the husband that had once been
called a opro outdoorsmen? had been relying on a book
to guide them through the jungle. As a result, I wanted to
convey the helplessness they felt in the jungle before their
near-death experience while also mirroring the helplessness
newlywed couples facehence
their attire. As they look out
of place, so do their colors in a sea of cool hues.?
22
23
Living with Depression
Kenzie Sharp- Illustration
oThe story was about this couple where one of them
suffered from depression and how the other one bought
them a kitten to help deal with it. There was a quote from
the story that was oYou donTt get rid of Depression, you
learn to live with it?, which was the theme of the piece.
When I read that I immediately had the idea of Depression
being a quiet roommate you can have coffee with.?
24
25
Caroline Waggoner-Painting
26
oEnlightenment?
27
Warmth
Reagan Herndon- Painting
oPlaces you once knew by heart become something you
donTt recognize. What were desolate streets become alive
with multicolored signage. darkness doesnTt necessarily
hide things, it can also reveal them.?
28
Reagan Herndon
Caroline Waggoner
Deficit
ITm in the red.
Overdrawn on hellos
and an excess of goodbyes,
the balance is all wrong.
Libra is terribly crooked.
The plate for hellos soars skyward,
The plate for goodbyes plunges,
crashes into the marble countertop.
Goodbyes tumble all over,
rolling here and there,
flashing silver like tears shed
in some solitary corner of the night.
These goodbyes are a useless currency,
nothing but dead weight in my purse,
drooping on my shoulder like some
sad little devil who whispers of my fear.
Autum DeMartino
31
Fear. If there be one thing
these goodbyes could purchase,
it is fear. The fear of saying hello
for yet again having to say goodbye.
In the coin purse of my heart,
yours is my last golden hello,
dazzling the dozens of goodbyes
into meaningless tarnished specks.
But is that the debt collectorTs footsteps
marching towards my home?
Oh no, please let me be wrong.
Because the loss of your hello
would bankrupt me,
send me into a depression,
and never again will I say hello
for fear of saying
goodbye.
32
33
Paths
Dylan Fick- Photography
oAfter a long week in an unfamiliar city, I had a
moment of rest as I walked across the bridge
late at night and I was able to take a moment
to see the beauty in the roads. Standing above
busy commuters we are reminded that there is
always someone to see, someplace to be and
everyone around us is also on their own path.?
34
35
Kofi Sackey-Photography
36
oEscapade From Business?
Kofi Sackey
39
Kamile Anderson-Photography
40
oGift?
The ocean has
betrayed me
The ocean has betrayed me.
Here I cower in a broken vessel
drifting over waves of tar
darker than the oceanTs being.
The beginning was a blessing.
The sun was reflected in every wave
and in my eyes the ocean rose
and rocked my soul so gently.
Love was in the ocean.
My feet danced in love
from stars and clouds and rays
drawn to the oceanTs vast spread.
She showed her misery.
Ink from her trenches stained
and weathered my vessel,
a prequel to the present.
When did it form?
Rolling with punches from wind
and rain pooled together,
inseparable from the other.
A futile message to peace.
Empty bottles crash around me,
knocked back to the start
by a storm feed by agony.
Pressure is constant.
I reach to the heavens, air pressure.
Sink into the ocean, and pressure.
Though crushed, receiving pressure.
Yet a diamond never formed.
Ocean, do you wish to destroy?
Separate yourself from the heavens
and remain below and lowly?
Your storms have ruined me
constrained and quaking
tossed and drowned and drifting, please
release me.
The ocean has betrayed me.
Kiara Jenkins
41
Your storms have ruined me
constrained and quaking
tossed and drowned and drifting, please
release me.
The ocean has betrayed me.
Its storms have ceased
and the heavens are bright, yet
it will not grant one wish.
The pressure below will crush me.
I watch rays of sun disperse
and fall in with the dark.
My breath a gift, and peace in turn.
Her depths are familiar.
I reach out to her,
the oceanTs maiden form,
and hold me close.
I betrayed myself.
I pull out plastic and sewage
from lands long forgotten
that clung to my skin.
The more removed, the more we cried.
How could I allow this?
Discarded thoughts from strangers
squatted in me, my vessel.
Misguided hate misguided me.
I am the vessel.
ITll dance in storms,
bend with their winds
and laugh below the oceanTs waves.
Before the landTs trauma sinks below
I will find its source
and nurture you, Ocean.
Until the world decides
we have explored enough this life
I will find the beauty weTve hidden
and Ocean, we will thrive.
42
43
WhereTs The Party?
Quinn Pagona- Printmaking
oI truly poured what I liked most about my artmaking
and printing style into this piece: the
graphic quality, the colors, the atmosphere,
the figure and emotion. ItTs not that this piece
didnTt throw its set of challenges, but thatTs
where the fun came in. The process having
its own personality is what makes me so
passionate about printmaking.?
44
45
Jay Coachman- Printmaking
46
47
Hunter Davis- Printmaking ?Bath Bomb?
48
BTucker-Printmaking ?By the Light of Our Moon?
49
Pete Borsay- Printmaking
50
oResolve? (Left), oRoadbull? (Right)
Hunter Davis
Presidents with Wings
Made of Gasoline
God is elected president
AmericaTs ground shakes
with thunderous applause as the
White man ascends the throne
Places the crown of thorns upon his head
Calls himself a man of morals
Suddenly loses eyesight
And hearing when queer men begin
To die from a disease they never prayed for
IsnTt this the most unholy of miracles?
Gives the straight people and babies
Dying of HIV and AIDS
A seat at the table
While giving the queer men
Dying of the same disease
A push into their caskets.
Were we not the dirtiest of sacrificial lambs?
Spill our blood on the ground
Watch the run off trickle into our neighborhoods
Watch the queer men die in silence while
God sits upon his throne basking in his retribution.
Another God is elected president
Proclaims himself a king for those who cannot speak
A vessel of anger and frustration lit ablaze
By a mob of constituents
Calls himself a conservative martyr
The crowd laughs at his rude jokes
Laughs as he crucifies people not of his own
Flesh and faith
Laughs as black and brown folk become the
Ingredients in the melting pot that we
CanTt taste anymore
God speaks of walls and borders
Noah Lee
53
Wants to rebuild the walls
Of Jericho out of chain link fences
And tear gas and murder
The great flood of racism and xenophobia
Drowns out all the color
Mixes with the muddy waters
Of homophobia and misogyny
Water becomes thicker than blood
Washes out all the laughter and pride with despair
Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump
Occupied the same thrown
And watched us all bleed
Casting their gaze upon us
The unholiest ghosts
We scream as we wait
For the second coming
Waiting for the next flood
The next HIV/AIDS outbreak
The next caravan to seek asylum
The next school shooting
The next protest
The next sign of resistance
Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump
Aare the Gods of straight white men
White and blue collars bathe in
The red rivers their Gods create with our blood
Call it patriotism
Call it nationalism
Call it fascism
Call us the martyrs who never asked to die
The saints who you pray to before going to your own gods
We stand above on pillars made of salt
We stand above with holes in our hands
We stand above you all and we are still the ones asking for help
54
55
Make America Great Again
Ronson Shultz- Ceramics
oIn 2016, Donald Trump won the presidential election.
Since then, hate crimes have risen for three straight years.
Murders attributed to right win terrorism has gone up 36%.
Anti-Semitic incidents have grown 57% and in the last two
years and more school children were killed within their
school then US military on the battlefield. All these statistics
are not normal and my work is intended to remind people
of that. My work is to remind everyone to do something,
to say something, and to be the opposition. This piece
aims to remind the viewer to stand against fascism and
authoritarianism in todayTs current political climate.?
56
57
Rachel Breitinger-Ceramics
58
oMildred? (Left), oLola? (Right)
59
Gluttony
Jonah Wall- Mixed Media
oThese shoes are part of a series meant to be a
commentary on consumerism and the sins people will
commit for name brands, particularly relating to footwear.
Each pair is based off of one of the seven deadly sins and
has its own character painted on the side to represent that
sin. The Jordan brand has been the center of controversy
for years over instances of theft and murder for coveted
pairs or colorways. This series is a way for me to come to
grips with my conflicting views and mixed emotions about
high fashion and name brands.?
60
61
Jonah Wall-Mixed Media
62
oGreed?
63
Caroline Waggoner-Mixed Media
64
oW.I.N. (WhatTs Important Now)?
Mountain is Swallowed
Whole by SurvivorTs GuiltB
And this time
the waterfall never ran out
The river twisted around
the neck of the mountain
Coiling like a python suffocating its prey
The rain fell from the sky like Valkyries
Each drop another war cry for vengeance
Refilling the river, a bottomless stomach
With the hunger of a thousand lionesses
The river chokes the mountain until it submits
It lets out a groan and the earth shakes like
Thunder between storm clouds
Which is to say
That my survivor story is insurmountable
That the only way to drown out the victim
Is to strangle them until they no longer
Want to submit the police report
Which is to say
That the rain is my mother referring to
My rape as the oaccident?
Instead of rape
Refills the bottomless river of victim blaming
With the insatiable hunger of 10,000 incels
The river chokes the mountain
The reclamation of this body
Which is to say
That I only refer to myself as rape survivor
When in the presence of other survivors
I have never been able to be a survivor alone
Noah Lee
65
My father often tells me I cannot live without my mother
My mother is a survivor too
She probably didnTt want me to end up just like her
Did she?
I do not call myself a survivor around my mother
Which is to say
I am the water cycle that causes the rain to fill the
Bottomless river
I put myself into the chokehold
Call myself survivorTs guilt
Call myself survivorTs second guessing
Maybe I did want him
Maybe ITm overthinking the entire situation
My mother, the rain,
Calls my rape othe accident?
And I start to believe her
That I caused this whole thing
Accidents donTt happen without the lack of
Conscience or conscious thought
I allow the river to choke me until the water
Seeps into my soil like an elixir or guilt
The rain beats down on the earth like horse hooves
Against valleys deep within the mountain range
The hunger never stops biting into me
And I let it happen over and over again.
66
Hiding
My rapist adds me on Snapchat
I read the notification on my phone
Amidst the German essay
That doesnTt want to write itself
The username crawls off my tongue like
A zombie rising from its grave"
I remember his name as soon
As I see his bitmoji.
He looks round and warm,
I almost donTt recognize him at first.
When I met him,
I didnTt recognize him at all.
The pictures he sent on Grindr
were an apparition
But I had already been caught
Once I stepped into his apartment.
My rapist adds me on Snapchat
And I donTt know how he found me.
I blocked him on Twitter,
Facebook and Instagram,
And I surely thought
that was enough to hide in plain sight.
I block him on Snapchat too,
And I think that ITll never have to hide again.
My rapist shows up to the
National Coming Out Day celebration on campus
And suddenly I wish that I had never came out at all.
I forgot that even if he canTt see me on the internet,
He can still find me in real life"
Noah Lee
67
There is no hiding from your rapist when
He attends the same college as you do.
I leave the table as he asks for a t shirt,
I try to block him out of my mind for a few seconds
But I can smell the familiar scent of his cologne
And I look at his shit eating grin
As I approach my best friend to tell him who he is.
I am trying to hide in plain sight,
I talk to a few volunteers just to clear my head
He walks away from the celebration with a few t shirts
Some pride bracelets
A pronoun pin,
And my soul.
My rapist walks into my life after I thought
I shut all the doors, locked them,
And threw away the key.
My rapist owns a part of me even after the sixth
Reclamation poem.
ITve tried to call my trauma a phoenix,
Tried to whirlwind my life to safety
With wings made of fire,
But the only person I manage to burn is myself.
I think about my trauma at least once a day.
What he did to me has left me brittle and cold.
I feel like I am a ghost at my own séance.
Say a prayer for the boy who lost his wings of fire.
My trauma has beaten me for the seventh time.
Its time to write another poem and act like I have
My body in my possession.
68
69
Sephra Reyes-Metal Design
70
oTea Blend Vessels?
71
Meghan Cashmore- Metal Design
72
oVessels?
73
Michael Austin- Sculpture
Michael Austin
74
oScales of Steel?
75
Sheathed
Adam Atkinson- Wood Design
oHunting trophies like these lined the walls of my childhood
home. In my earliest formative years, I saw my reflection in
the taut skin and rigid bones of various species native to the
northwest wilderness. My current work investigates gender
constructs that were codified through Westward Expansion in
the 19th century, and disseminated into a contemporary body
politic. Referencing western land surveys which collected animal
hides and botanical specimens for institutional use, I recreate
taxidermies and floral adornments from a queer perspective. I
hope by making this work the viewer might question the material
culture that influences our perception of nature and gender.?
76
State of Mind
DonTt mind,
My state of mind,
Hard to explain,
Even harder to define,
ITm always found at the altar,
Asking the divine,
For forgiveness of transgressions,
And grudges that I canTt ever leave behind,
But I never receive peace of mind,
Because God doesnTt have the time,
ITm on the borderline,
Of just making it,
But steadily falling behind,
So I close my eyes and pretend as if I were
blind,
Killing hearts,
Ripping them up on the inside,
They say hurt people hurt people,
But I never thought I would become one of
those hurt people.
Both poems by
Marcus Jennette
77
Pastel Roses
I miss me,
I miss caressing butterflies with broken wings,
I knew I couldnTt save them but I would hold their
tattered bodies until their soul would leave,
I couldnTt communicate with them,
But I understood they were hurting,
Like me,
Just alone laying in the grass trying to reach the
same heights again,
But they just fell and fell again,
And here I am,
Powdered scales blowing in the wind,
ITm alone and hurting,
Trying to reach the same heights again,
But I fall and fall again,
And I crawl and crawl until my knees have bruises,
I just wanted to make it,
I just wanted to be the old me again,
I just want to smile again for no reason,
Lay me down on pastel colored roses,
As I wither from within.
78
79
Soft Shield of Love
Christina Dixon- Textile Design
oI have a sister who had my niece out
of wedlock and is soon to be married!
My parents love and adore them both,
but when she told them, it was not
one of their proudest moments. the
question of where she will wed was
a major topic of discussion for us.
Should it rightfully be in a church? Or
is another location appropriate given
the circumstances? I asked friends
and family to answer a few questions
about faith and religion. I screen
printed the words of the individuals
most important to me on the surface
of dyed fabric in opaque acrylic paint.?
80
81
Meghan Cashmore-Textile Design oWhite Scarf?
82
Christina Dixon-Textile Design ?Think About it?
83
Sienna Evans-Textile Design
84
oEnduring?
Heavenly Father
Today the Sun Shines
Today it feels that the sun has pierced.
It has made its way through
To me
To my heart
To the love of my soul
I can feel the warmth today
Although itTs still a bit chilly
Jahad Chris Carter
85
I can feel the warmth like a early spring morning
ItTs there
ITm here
Ready to accept the warmth
It keeps me going,
The Father keeps me sane
The Son keeps me honest
And the Holly Spirit keeps me humble.
86
Stop and Smell the
Roses of Memory Lane
Cracking open the plastic lid of a storage
bin. Tattered shoe boxes concealing a yearly
treasure. Christmas arrives in a dry burst of cold
dusty velvet and satin ribbons, the old-book
smell of peeling sequins. An oily tinge of paint
on ceramic. One stale peppermint candy cane.
A faint hint of moisture combined with aged
plastics to resemble almost the smell of rain.
Soon the tree will be sparkling with these smells.
More Christmas-y than cinnamon and spruce
could ever be.
A pale green Germ-X bottle in a walk-in clinic. I
squirt some in my hand: a sharp bite of alcohol,
a slightly sweet artificial-aloe after-smell as if
to make up for the harsh chemical. Then, the
second-grade classroom right before lunch. My
stomach clenches. Anxiety will fill it rather than
Autumn DeMartino
87
food. No friends to sit with. So much noise in the
cafeteria. An aching lump in my throat. Tightness in
my chest.
A glossy glob of cobalt in a paint tray. The wet,
vaguely chemical scent sticks to the back of my
nose and throat like the acrylic paint will stick to
my fingernails. Next, the dry dust of paper. Then?
a tang of cork bulletin board? Ah, yes. Now I am
back in the high school art room. Just me and a few
friends after school hours. Together we paint a
mural to leave our mark on those dank halls where
cockroaches scurry like lost freshmen.
A translucent-orange bottle of antibacterial hand
soap at the back of my cabinet left over from my
first tattoo.
88
oWash it with antibac hand soap three times a
day for the first week,? my artist advised.
A whiff of that light, clean scent?washing my
tattoo with more care than a mother bathing
her baby. Washing it in a sink in the art room
before lunch. My amused teacher and gawking
classmates. Antibac Hand Soap, my perfume of
choice for a week.
I squeeze a dollop of whipped body lotion into
my hand. A cloud of fluffy lotion then a cloud of
sweet, fresh pear then New York City in spring.
One breath: ITm standing in the lotionTs store
in Time Square. Cold, cloudy day but so many
sweet florals and fruits in the tiny warm shop.
Bright studio lights. Brightness in my heart and
mind. Another breath: ITm walking through Central
89
Park. A sunny day, and each movement of my
muscles sends up a cloud of whipped pear. A
third breath: ITm recounting my trip to my best
friend. Warm days are ahead along with one last
beautiful summer.
Purple all-purpose cleaner/room freshener. A
sweet airy scent for pampered out-of-state
guests to enjoy. A compliment to the ocean
views, maybe? DonTt know, donTt care because
that falsely sweet chemical embeds itself in
my nose for 16 hours every weekend. Falsely
sweet?like the oSouthern hospitality? smile I
get paid to wear. Summer used to be coconut
sunscreen, Bath and Body Works, and New
York City pear. No more. Now itTs all pungent
purple that triggers burning, sneezing, coughing.
What I wouldnTt give to never see another beach
mansionTs toilet?
90
Animation
To view all animated films please vist:
http://www.theeastcarolinian.com/rebel/video/animation/
91
Top Left
oThe Bigger The Figure?
Emily Bakke
Bottom Left
oDr MartenTs Air Wair?
Arielle Yang
Top Right
oKaiju Throwdown?
Kevin Chilton with Emily Bakke,
Rojo Stroher, and Arielle Yang
Bottom Right
oA Normal Day in the Dorm?
Diana Mungaray
92
Film
To view all films please vist:
http://www.theeastcarolinian.com/rebel/video/filmmaking
93
Top
oCarolina?
JXY TRUE
Bottom
oThe Legacy Sessions?
Thomas Weybrecht
94
Music
Jay Coachman
CarolinaTs Finest
Jay Coachman a.k.a JXY TRUE
Through My EYEZ
Triston Kight a.k.a T. Kight
Streaming available on Spotify,
Apple Music, and our official website:
http://www.theeastcarolinian.com/rebel/video/music/
96
Editor: Katie Church
Staff: Erin Flynn & Brandon Miles
Pirate Media 1 Staff
Director: John Harvey
Adviser: Terrence Dove
Multimedia & Production Adviser: Annah Howell
97
Copyright:
Copyright 2019 Rebel Arts and Literary Magazine and
Student Media Board of East Carolina University. All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted
in any form electronic, mechanic, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the permission of
East Carolina University Student Media.
Rebel is published once a year by East Carolina
University students at the Magazine Division Office,
Self-Help Building, Second Floor. Greenville, NC
27858.
Opinions expressed herein are those of the student
contributors and DO NOT reflect those of the
faculty, staff, administration of ECU, Student Media
Board nor the University of North Carolina System.
Submission Guidelines
Rebel is currently accepting submissions for our next
issue. Contributions can be any illustrations, poems,
short stories, photographs, non-fiction, music, film
or other forms of visual arts. All submissions should
include your full name, major and classification.
Please send all work to rebel@ecu.edu. Those
pieces selected may appear in our next edition.
98
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