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REBEL ©¥

ARTS AND LITERARY MAGAZINE

REBEL 57

Rebel 57 pays homage to mid-century notions of
creativity and innovation. Influenced by a time when
the dream of tomorrow and a desire to explore the
unknown were at the forefront of human ingenuity,
this book is an adventure into the works of the

creative minds at East Carolina University.

CONTENTS

See IN si © vv 04

PEREPOCRMING ARTS

@ DANCE O08
@ MUSIC 10
LITERARY
Pre ON 14
NONE Ion 26
PORTE, 50
GALLERY
BOOK ARTS ES
CERAMICS 5S
DIGITAL Priore AO
® DOCUMENIARY FILM 42
DRAWING 44
@® FILM ART A6
GRAPHIC DESIGN 48
ILLUSTRATION S10)
METAL DESIGN 52
MIXED MEDIA 54
PAINTING se
PRINTMAKING si)
SCULPT] URE 60
72 lee Die ol ain ©2
TRADITIONAL PHOTO 64

MONCRABLE MENTION 68

CREDITS 74

® These entries can be viewed in their entirety
at the following address:

www.ecu.edu/cs-studentaffairs/rebel

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REBEL 57

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FIRST PLACE

WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS
KANON SAPP

DANCE

SECOND PLACE

ALSO KNOWN AS

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THE UNSEASONABLY WARM DECEMBER OF MY

UNREASONABLY COLD HEART

MEGAN RHODES

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REBEL 57

Pikot FEACE

THE BOX OF PORN

JESSICA RICEMOND

ItTs amazing how much crap one person can
accumulate in twenty-three years; itTs even more
amazing how much crap two people can accumulate.
The sheer amount of boxes we had to load into our
new house seemed to be unrealistic. We couldn't
possibly have that many pots could we? John and I
were moving in together after four years of dating.
We had found a small cape a few miles away from
our new jobs. John liked to call it othe starter home.�
I kind of liked the sound of that; it gave hope to the
fact that this thing between me and him would have

more than one home together.

The house had crisp white siding with black shutters
and a bright red door. ~The brick path up to the door
was lined with pink pansies, and the fresh green yard
was surrounded by a black cast-iron fence that was
just one step up from being white and picket. Every
time I walked out to the car to get another box, it
was sheer force of will that allowed me to not kick
every pansy on my way up to the door. ~The cookie
cutter house in Fishers, Indiana was the last thing I

ever wanted, but here I was.

John called me from the kitchen and I ignored him
and walked out to the car again to grab another
box. He was far too ecstatic about wall molding and
base boards at the moment for me to have a rational

conversation with him. He followed me out anyway.

oBabe, I found a box in here,� John said as he walked

out to the car with me to grab another box.

oCongratulations, thereTs a lot of boxes. Look, thereTs
one and thereTs one and thereTs one,� I said as I
pointed out the boxes in the still mostly filled SUV.

He smiled sarcastically and picked up one of the

boxes marked Kitchen, oNo, I mean like itTs not ours.�

I picked up a box marked JohnTs Crap and said,
oWhat? What do you mean itTs not ours?�

oIT mean itTs a box that we didnTt bring,� he said.
oWell, whatTs it got in it?� I asked.

He said, oUhm, video tapes? Looks like home

videos.�

oEw. We have someoneTs home porn collection,� I

said. oWonderful.�

oWhy do you assume itTs porn?� he asked as he held

the door open for me.
oWhy do you assume itTs not?�

oWe should watch it.�

oRight now? Seriously? DonTt you think we're a little

busy?� I called from the master bedroom.

He followed me in and asked, oWho shit in your
Cheerios?�

ot's pissed,�
oWhatTs pissed?�

oThe phrase is, ~who pissed in your Cheerios?T not
~shit,� I said as I turned to go out the front door

again.

oWell, you would know now, wouldn't you? ITm going
to set up the TV and then youre going to stop being
Bitchy Heather and come be Fun Heather who

watches porn with her boyfriend.�
oItTs not porn,� I called behind me.

oAh, progress,� he exclaimed with his head tilted
towards the sky.

It had started to get dark and John promised that
heTd get up at 6AM tomorrow and bring in the rest
of the boxes if I would just sit down and watch

the videos with him. So I did. We were sitting on
the floor because we hadn't bought a couch yet
and eating lukewarm pizza out of the box. John
pushed the first tape into the VCR, which had
somehow lasted through the age of DVDs, and the
TV was alight.

It was their baby girl. She was descending the stairs in
silver heels that strapped above the ankle. Her delicate

eighteen year old body was wrapped in a dark blue dress
that fell just below the knee and her blonde hair fell in
perfect curls around her shoulders.

oHenry. Henry go get the corsage for Beth,� a woman
shouted from behind the camera.

Beth continued down the stairs beaming from ear to ear
when she got to the bottom she twirled and laughed. An

older man came into view and said, oPrincess, youre

beautiful.�
oThanks, Dad.�
oOkay, okay. Here Henry hold the camcorder.�

oMom, I canTt hold both the camera and the corsage. Pick

one thing for me to do at a time.�

oGive the corsage to your sister then hold the camcorder,�

FICTION

the woman said impatiently.

Flenry thrust the boxed corsage at Beth and then
unsteadily grabbed the camera from his mother.

oOkay, I want a picture with Justin putting your corsage

»�»

on.

A tall, lanky boy in a tuxedo came into the frame looking
down at Beth with nervous glances. He took the box and
opened it before pinning 1t on her dress.

Aww, thatTs adorable, now stand together over here by the

stairs.�

Beth and Justin walked in front of the stairs and Justin

awkwardly put his arms around BethTs waist.

There was a flash and then the mother was shouting

another command, oNow over here by the front door.�

They shuffled to the front door and posed 1n the same
awkward stance. There was another flash and then the
mother was instructing again, oOkay, now one with you

and your father. Come on, look alive, Rob. .

oHow about you be in one, Tracy?� Rob said as soon as the

next flash went off. Tracy handed the camera off to Rob
and then stood next to Beth. Another flash went off.

oOkay, now one of just you by the door,T Tracy said as she

took the camera from her husband.
oMom, havent you got enough pictures?�

oNo, I want one of you and Justin out in front of
the house.�

oMom!�
oLast one, I promise.

oFine.�

John paused the tape and pressed eject, oWell, that
was sweet. They must have been the family who lived

here before us.�

I said, oI guess so. Wow, | forgot prom was like that.
It was such a big deal.�

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REBEL 57

oI didnTt go to my prom,� John said as he put the tape
back in the box.

oYou didnTt? DonTt you regret it?�

oNot really. I mean, I lost out on the thirty rolls of
film my mother would have spent as made evidence
by Tracy the photographer, but honestly, no, I donTt

fegret ity

oWell, thatTs good. I mean, my prom wasn't fantastic.

I didnTt have a date or anything.�
oAw babe, why not?� John asked.

I laughed and said, oCause I was a horrid bitch to

everyone | came into contact with.�

John cocked his head and asked, oWas?� I picked up
the remote next to me and threw it at his arm, oOw!
Fine, fine, youre right. You're a bright big bag of

sunshine now.�
I smiled and said, oDamn straight. Okay next tape.�
8 y Pp

oLook whoTs on board with the porn festival now,� he
said.

oOh, shut up and put the tape in.�

He pushed the next tape in and sat back down next

tO me.

~Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy
Birthday, dear Henry. Happy Birthday to you,� the
family sang in chorus as the camera zoomed in on a small

boy sitting in a high chair.

oOkay, Henry, blow out the candles,� Rob said as he held
the small cake with three candles in it closer to the little
boys chair. oCome on, like daddy,� he said as he mimicked
blowing out the candles with his lips. Henry started
laughing but didnt blow out any candles. A preteen Beth
stood up and walked over to the chair and blew out the

candles.
oBeth!� Tracy shouted from behind the camera.

~What? He was taking too long. I want cake,� Beth said.

oSince you were So rude to your brother, now you dont get

any cake,� Rob said as he placed the cake back on the table.
oThat's not fair!� Beth screamed.

oWell, was 1t fair that your brother didnt get to blow out
his own candles on his birthday?� Rob asked.

oWell, was it fair that my brother took like two years to
blow out his candles?� Beth asked.

oBeth, apologize to your brother,� Tracy said.
Beth sighed and said, oHe doesn't even speak English.�
All right, young lady, go to your room. Rob said angrily.

oOA, god forbid my room, where my TV and all my toys
are, Beth yelled.

oOkay, go to your brother's room, oTracy said.

oYeah okay,� she said incredulously as she walked out of the
kitchen.

~Elizabeth Grace Crenshaw, you come back here right
now!� Rob yelled as the TV turned black.

oWow, I guess she wasnTt always a perfect princess,�
John said as he ejected the tape.

oGuess not. So glad I was an only child.�

oNah, it was fun growing up with a bunch of brothers

and sisters.�

oI would have rather been in an orphanage than grow

up in the jungle that was your house.�
oHey!� John said as he swatted at my arm.

oITm just saying. Four sisters and two brothers is too

much.�

oBut you learn to share and get along with other
people. Maybe thatTs why you're always so damn
bitchy. No one ever taught you how to play nice.�

oAh, Freud!� I exclaimed as I dramatically lay down
on the floor. oDo psychoanalyze me. Did my mother

not love me enough either?�

oYou could do with a good psychologist,� he said.

oBut seriously, you really donTt think siblings are a
good idea?�

I shrugged and said, oI donTt know.�
oLike, when we have kids, you only want one.�

oWe're having kids?� I asked.

oWell, yeah, I was kinda planning on it. Do you not
want kids?� John asked.

oNo, I want kids,� I said. oI just didnTt know you
thought about it. Ya know, like us in the future...�

oOf course I do,� he said unbelievingly.

I shook my head and said, oSo, how many kids do

you want?�

oIT want three and a dog,� he said matter-of-factly.
I interrupted, oA border collie.�

oMmhmm, named Farfy.�

oFarfy? What the hell kind of name is that?� I asked.

oOur son named him. DonTt make fun of him, you'll

scar him for life,� he said smiling.

oFine, we have a dog named Farfy, but please tell me

we donTt let him name the other children.�

oNo, of course not. We name our first Brandon, after
your father. Our second Jeremy, after my brother.

And our youngest Emma, after your favorite Jane
Austen book.�

oYou've thought so much about this,� I said slowly
truly not believing that he had thought so much on
the subject.

oYou haven't?� He asked.

oT guess not. Not that I donTt want that. I do. I just...I
didnTt know I was supposed to have baby names
picked out. I canTt believe you thought to name our
son after my father. You donTt know what that means

to me,� | said in awe.

FICTION

He moved closer to me and tucked a stray piece of
hair behind my ear and said, oOf course I do. Babe,
you know ITm the planner. I just think about these
things; that doesnTt mean you have to. I didnTt mean

to rush you into anything.�
oI know, I know,� I said. oHow about another tape?�

oOkay. LetTs see the Crenshaw family yell at each

other yet again.�
oSounds like a plan.�

John stood up and grabbed a random tape from the
box and put it in the VCR.

The camera was panning over the house as the camera
holder made their way to the backyard. A woman's voice
started, oOkay, so we're just setting up in the backyard. I
dont really know how to use this. I know Mom doesnt
usually do a voiceover, but were mixing it up. Uhm,
today is Mom and Dad's 50TH wedding anniversary, so
we re having a party in the backyard. We've invited all
their friends and family and itTs going to be tons of fun. I
don't know where Greg 1s, but he should be with the kids
whom I also cant seem to find. Jenn had to work, but
Henry and Jack are here. Henry's actually out back trying
to get the grill ready, but you know him, he's about as

useful as a dead tree.�
oHeard that!� Henry yelled from off-screen.

oYeah, yeah, well. I don't see any grilling going on, so I'm
not taking it back.�

A little girl ran up crying and rubbing her head, oMom!
Mom! Leah hit me in the head with her Barbie.�

oWell, Abby, tell her to stop,� the woman said.

Abby said, oI did.�

oWell, where's your father?� the woman asked.

oHe said to tell you that he went to buy more hot dog buns.�
oWe have plenty of hot dog buns.�

oHe said he went to get more. :

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REBEL 57

oWell, we have plenty. He always does this, he over

prepares anda freaks out over nothing. -

oMom, I'm six,� Abby said as though completely losing

interest in the conversation.�
~Right, right. Go play with your sister and cousin.�
oJack's not with us.�
oWell, where the hell is Jack?�

oHe went with Daddy. To help him carry stuff, Abby said
as she ran off to play.
Lhe woman turned the camera back to the grill and yelled,
oHenry! Did you know Jack went with Greg?�

Henry stood up from behind the grill and said, oYeah, we
needed more hot dog buns.�

oWe really don't. Whatever. Why'd your son have to go?�
she asked.

oTo help Greg carry the tce.�

The woman sighed and said, oWe have four bags of ice in
the garage.�

oWell, Beth we didn't know that.�

The screen went black. When the camera was turned
back on, it was zoomed in on an older woman in her late

SIXTIES.
oSo, what's the secret, Mom?� Beth asked.

oThe secret is that murder is illegal and I'm not really good
at digging, so it'd have been really easy for the police to
have found the body.�

oLove you too, dear,� Rob said from off-screen. The camera

zoomed out to include him as he sat down next to his wife.

oMom, seriously, advice for Henry and me. I mean about
our marriages, how to raise our kids, how to live our

lives, etc.�
oWhy are you being so insistent? I'll be here tomorrow.�

Actually, Trace, thatTs what theyre really throwing the
party for. We're getting old, so they re gonna do the whole
Eskimo thing where they put us on a big block of ice and

fioat us out to sea,� Rob said. oBut dont worry, we get to

share an tce block.�

oWell, isnTt that just the sweetest thing you've ever said to

me,� Tracy said as she laid her hand on his.

He moved his hand so it was gripping hers and satd,
~Td gladly wither and die with you in the middle of the

»
ocean.

~I'd gladly use your dead body as batt to attract sea

creatures,� she said with the same sincerity he did.
oTrue love,� Henry said off-screen.
oMother,� Beth said seriously.

oYou should just answer her, or she's just going to keep
pestering you, Henry said again.

~Fine, fine. Uhm, dont waste moments. Everything 1s
important, and you will take it for granted, but try not
to. Patio furniture is very important; you need to really
shop around for that because on warm nights, you should
sit on the back patio with your husband and enjoy the fact
that your kids arent there. Dont trust men who have
tans under their wedding rings. That means they're either
too young to be real men or theyre too busy cheating to be
real men. Your kids are the single best and worst thing
you will ever do with your life and you will always think
theyre perfect, but they're probably not. When Leah or
Abby drive you up a wall and you think that banging
their head against a wall would make you feel so much
better, go look up what real child abuse looks like and
you ll never think about it again. When you want to kill
your husband because he bought too many hot dog buns,
go sit at an airport or a bus stop or a train station and
watch couples who havent seen each other in months hug
each other for the first time. You'll eat the damn hot dog
buns by yourself just to make him feel better. The love
of your life will surprise you, because nine times out of
ten, they dont come riding up on a white horse. Usually,
there's no horse involved, actually, but thatTs beside the
point. Usually, the love of your life will be the one person

more than anyone else you want to hit with a frying pan

continuously until they no longer have the ability to form
sentences. ItTs harsh. ItTs life. Your husband, your wife,
your significant other should be able to drive you to the
ends of the Earth They should know exactly how to get

under your skin. They should know everything about you,
including whether you brush your teeth starting on your
left side or your right. [hey will hold the power to make
you cry, know how to literally unravel your entire life in
a few words, and destroy you. The reason you love them 1s
because they dont. the difference between love and hate
is no fine line"tt's holding the power to destroy someone
and loving them instead. And when youre old and gray,
and your daughter 1s shoving a damn camcorder tn your
face as payback for all the times you did it to her, gust talk
to her because she ll probably just keep pestering you if you
dont.�

Awww, Mom.�
And never eat yellow snow,T Rob said.
oThanks, Dad,� Beth said with annoyance.

Rob huffed and said, oIt's important.�

The tape shut off and John looked at me and said,

oMarry me.�
oVV hate

oMarry me. Fuck this whole establishing ourselves
in our career and getting a nest egg. What the fuck
even is a nest egg? Just marry me because I want
someone to find our home videos one day and watch
our shitty lives. I want them to see us crazy and
happy and screaming at each other. I want them
to watch our kids grow up and watch us in our old
age. I want that with you. I want to buy too many
goddamn hot dog rolls, and I want you to actually
contemplate burying me in the backyard. Just

fucking marry me, Heather.�

oMom, how did Dad propose? oWell dear, we were
watching porn and then he yelled at me to marry
him with about as many swears as humanly possible,
and I just melted at his feet and said, ~Oh yes, please

make me your wite,

oSo, is that a yes?� He asked with a grin.

oYeah, Yeah, | think it ws.

FICTION

19

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REBEL 57

SECOND PLACE

THE TWIRLING EFFECT

ERIKA DIE RICK

We arrived just a few moments before the concert
was about to begin; the lights had already been
dimmed as we scurried down the aisle looking for
seats. Gesturing in the dark, my dad pointed out a
mostly empty row toward the side of the auditorium.
We squeezed past three irritated old women in frilly
dresses and a teenage couple"my family filled in the
rest of row J.

We all sat silently as the first song began and the
pubescent ballerinas tip-toed across the stage. The
wooden platform was so old even the delicate tips
and taps of the petite ballerinas caused the boards
beneath them to creak.

In a terrible, donTt-look-my-direction mood, I
flipped the pages of the dance concert program like
an AP English teacher scoffing at a literary atrocity.
I pouted when I saw that the song my sister and her
dance class were performing in was the very last
song in a two-hour program"lI didnTt even want

to be there.

The hours before the concert were the usual otornado
meets a volcano,� as Eminem likes to describe it...
that is, the usual disaster of my sister and I having to
share a space or communicate with one another for

more than five seconds.

Two hours before we had to leave, I had just locked
the bathroom door and stepped into the shower
when I heard an angry THUD, THUD, THUD!

oJAMIE, I need in!� she half-whined, half-yelled.

oI just got in here! [ll be out in a few minutes!� I

yelled back as I slathered my hair in shampoo.

oJAMIE, I need in now! I have to get ready!!� THUD,
THUD, THUD! oLET Mp IN!

I didnTt respond, choosing to ignore her until she

eventually walked away.

THUD THUD THUD rub FHUD THUD THUD
THUD THUD over and over like a hammer to my
head, oGO AWAY!� I shouted, oLL BE OUT SOON!�
The thudding continued. I waited it out impatiently
like a child waiting to play with the best toy in day
care, but I got angrier and angrier until I finally
ripped open the shower curtain and unlocked the

door.

oYou're such a freaking brat!� I yelled at her as I

furiously pushed the shower curtain closed again.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the shower
with towel wrapped around me to see Caitlin
applying the microscopic finishing touches to her
make-up. Her hair was perfectly curled, not a single
curl less curly than the other, and her nails were

painted to match her sparkling red dance outfit.

Irritated, I reached under the sink for my hair brush.

I tried to squeeze between Caitlin and the wall for

a spot in front of the mirror, but she concentrated

on her artwork without so much as twitching in

the other direction.
oCaitlin, scoot over!�

oYou donTt need to see the mirror to brush your hair,�

she said as she lined her right eye.

oWhatever,� I mumbled, wincing as I combed
through my hair like I was trying to start a fire.
After a few moments, I threw the brush back under

the sink and opened the door to leave.

oYou're not even going to blow dry your hair?� she
asked in disgust, peering at me through the side of

one Cye.

Three performances"two ballet and one tap"had
gone by. I checked my cell phone"only fifteen
minutes had passed. I held my hot head up on my
fist, my elbow resting on the arm of the theatre seat.
Why did I even need to be here? | always come to
her stuff, but she never wants to see me play soccer or

run track, I thought crossly.

When we were younger, we both used to stay the
night at my grandma and grandpaTs house. My
grandma, Caitlin, and I would all sit down to

play Polly Pockets, or jump in the hot tub, or play
Nintendo. All would be fine and dandy for a little
while until Caitlin took the prettiest Polly Pocket
outfit, I called the best spot in the hot tub, or either

of us ocheated� during a Mario game.

oCan't you guys just get along?!� asked my usually
sweet grandma, finally worn down by the constant
bickering. oYou guys are sisters. You guys should be
best friends!� We would get silent as she declared,

resigned, oITm going to have a smoke.�
Upon walking away, I'd turn to my sister.

oGood job, Caitlin. Look what you did!� And so the

cycle continued.

oWant anything, Jamie? ITm going to get popcorn,�
my little brother whispered.

oYeah, I want popcorn,� I replied.

With dollar bills crumpled in his left hand, he

FICTION

scooted past me and out of the aisle.

The lull of undramatic jazz music led me to the time
my mom signed my sister and I up for a dance class
at the YMCA. We both were so excited"we had
practiced our signature twirling move over and over,

laughing from dizziness the longer we twirled.

Ten minutes into the class, we were still the only
ones standing in the wide open room with the
teenage instructor. I canTt tell you how my sister felt
at 5 years old, but for me, it was incredibly awkward.
I had always wanted to take a dance class, but this
was not the way I imagined it. The instructor tried

to remain positive, though.

oAll right, guys, how about you just show me what
ya got? LetTs do freestyle.�

I turned to my sister and then back to the instructor,

fidgeting anxiously.

oWe donTt really have any moves,� I said with a

red face.

oAw, nothing? Are ya sure?� prodded the instructor

encouragingly.

oYes, we do!� cried Caitlin. oWe have our twirling

b DY

move, remember:

oWell, itTs not really a move...�

oLet me see it,� said the instructor. oGo ahead.�

So, for the rest of the class, Caitlin and I held
crossed arms and spun to unwind each other, rolling
each other back up the arm and twirling again. We
were very serious about our technique"we wanted

to look like good dancers, after all.

ItTs one of the last times I really remember being a

team with my sister.

I half-consciously noticed that the program was
nearing its end as I continued to fall deeper into
reflection. I didnTt remember when my sister and

I stopped getting along, or why we never started
again. I couldnTt pinpoint when games of Red
Rover became screaming matches or when our room

suddenly had toys that were mine or hers.

21

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REBEL 57

I had always just blamed our problems on the fact

that WCE WELG complete opposites.

oCAIT-LUIIINN! ...WHOO!� yelled a teenage boy
from the back.

The scarlet curtain had opened to reveal twenty or
so teenage girls dressed in red ruby sparkling dance
uniforms. All of the dancers stood posed like statues,

a couple of them waving to people in the crowd.
My sister stood front and center.

A hip-hop song that I shouldTve known but didnTt
blasted from the surround sound speakers as the
dancers came to life. Stomping, jumping, twirling,
and sashaying"the crowd was mesmerized by

the moves of their little girls, their daughters and
granddaughters, their nieces. But none of the dancers
stood out like my sister. It wasnTt coincidental that
she was placed in the front"she dominated the stage
like the star of the show, hitting every move perfectly
like her heart and the bass were the same. I watched
bright-eyed, with a huge open smile across my face.

I turned and mouthed to my mom, oSheTs good!!�

I was giddy from the performance as they froze in
place to the last beat.

oYEAHHHHAEL, Go cAMiInit fi yelled up at
the stage.

Caitlin lined up with the rest of the dancers on
the stage to take a bow. She stood confidently and
slightly laughing at the front of the stage.

She was all grown up...she was beautiful.

I clapped as hard as I could alongside my family.
Like any teenage girl, I was as quick to anger as
I was to inspiration. The applause continued, and
I stood up as the girls finally bowed and waved
goodbye to their adoring fans.

Whether my sister knew it or not, I was one of them.

Because even though we have continually bickered
and bafHed each other, she has always been the little

sister ITve been proud to call mine.

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REBEL 57

THIRD PLACE

CHASING

GREASED LIGHTNING

MEGHAN MONTERO

Nothing ever happens around here. But thatTs just
one of the consequences of living in a small town
like ours. The little bitty town of Zephyr is one of
those places thatTs out in the middle of nowhere and
barely has a dot on the map to let anybody know that
itTs even there. Sure we have the essentials: a grocery
store, a gas station, a library, a diner, and other
various small mom and pop stores that people like to
hang around. ~The television station even gets plenty
of decent channels on a clear day. In all, itTs just your

typical sleepy town, with not much to do.

The only thing ever worth looking forward to around
here is when St. MarkTs Church throws its annual
carnival. What had started as a fund-raising event
to build the new community center had become a
yearly part of the fall break. All of the parishioners
volunteered to run the booths and other concessions,
with the proceeds going into their various project
funds. It was nothing special. Just your typical fare
filled with rides and games to win cheap prizes, and,
of course, plenty of places to get your fix of deep-
fried comfort foods. But to the folks around here, it

was like an early Christmas.

You know when the carnival is in town now because
itTs the only time when the parking lot is overflowing
with cars at the church. How they manage to
squeeze all of those rides and stands into that small

little clearing behind the church, I will never know.

And how they manage to get all of those people to

attend each year is a bigger mystery. But one thing
I do know is that the church makes a killing off it

every time.

There must be some kind of unspoken competition
between all of the volunteers about who can make
the most money, because there are always a few
specific booths that really rake in the dough. You
have your ring tosses, shoot the duck, fish bowl
games, and so forth. But the big money makers are
found elsewhere. ThereTs the ball toss booth with
bottles that are notorious for not getting knocked
over no matter how hard you throw the ball at them.
The dart games are a favorite among the local bar
goers. Ihen thereTs the dunk tank that has become
quite popular in recent years ever since the principal

at the local high school started ovolunteering� to get
dunked.

But the attraction that always draws the biggest
crowd is the Greased Pig event. ItTs not so much

the event itself that gets peopleTs attention. Who in
their right mind would want to get all muddy and
greasy for nothing? Even folks around here donTt call
getting down and dirty fun, and they are not all that

eager to participate.

The only thing that keeps people coming back is
the fact that the game is sponsored by Mrs. MayTs
Diner, and the prize for catching her prized pig,

Lightning, is free confectioneries from her diner for

a whole year. Now, to all of you folks from out of
town, that might not sound like much. But to we
locals here in Zephyr, itTs like hitting the jackpot.
Mrs. May is the best damn baker this side of the
Mason-Dixon line. Her peach cobbler has won first
place in the county cook offs for nearly a decade. Her
pineapple upside-down cake melts in your mouth.
Her seasonal pecan pies are out of this world. Her
homemade coconut cake is simply to die for. And
thatTs not even getting started with everything thatTs

on the menu!

~The trick of it is, though, that you only have three
minutes to catch Lightning. That might seem like
all the time in the world to catch a chubby little
potbellied pig, but when it comes to Lightning,

itTs there and gone in a flash. The thing about
Lightning that you need to understand is that heTs a
shrimpy little fellow. For whatever reason, heTs been
a runt ever since he was born. HeTs small enough to
where heTs fast and can slip past just about anything,
but he is just fat enough that you canTt quite get
both hands around him. When heTs all greased up,
he can easily slip right through your fingers, and
he'll keep running you around the ring until time

runs out on you.

In all of the years that the carnival has been going
on, only a handful of people have succeeded in
nabbing Lightning and laying claim to the reward.
But the challenge of the event keeps them coming
back for more because once you've had a taste of

Mrs. MayTs pastries, nothing else compares.

Good luck chasing after Lightning if you think
youre quick enough to catch him. As for me?

I have a hot date with a fresh slice of apple pie to
get back to.

FICTION

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REBEL 57

rreRSi PLACE

TWO WORDS, ONE KEY

MEGHAN MONTERO

These words are what most nosy younger siblings
tend to expect when theyTre snooping through the
journal of an older sister recounting the exciting
events of growing up. But they are probably the last
words people would think to read when opening up
an anonymous letter from some unfamiliar place.
The messages are simple. They sound more like a
tourist recalling the specifics of a vacation abroad.
Sometimes it is of an island getaway. Other times it
is from the peaceful countryside in the hills of some

small country.

Everything is not always as it seems on the surface,
however. Some might speculate that these strange
letters have some dark and sinister meaning behind
them. Others still might argue that all of the little
details"from geological locations, to the dates and
times recorded in these messages"contain some sort
of code that unlocks a long-lost conspiracy. But in

fact, it is much more than that.

Those two simple little words are actually the
beginning of a map that leads to a treasure trove

of unimaginable wealth. ~This treasure is not made
up of gold or jewels, or any other materialistic

thing associated with riches. No, this treasure is
something far more valuable than that. It is a record
of seemingly insignificant events that occurred on
this Earth. These messages in a bottle were left to

float about on the seas of time, forgotten and tossed

about with the day-to-day events that shape any

individualTs life.

For time is not always so forgiving to the mind.
Sometimes the greatest treasure in life is the
memories of the past that easily slip away from our
thoughts because of how trivial they might seem at
the time. More often than not, in the end, all we
have to show for ourselves are the memories that
were made along the way in the long, but fleeting,
journey of life. Because when you blink, your life can

easily pass you by.

Looking back on the things of the past may seem
more like fantasy at times. But as the years go by, we
are more likely to forget most of the little things that
we once cherished. And that is what makes those
words all the more special. Just what kinds of stories
come to light in that moment of jotting down those

two simple words?

Dear Diary...

REBEL 57

SECOND. PLACE

NIGHTMARE

ALAN SKIRNICK

Did] sercanicns timier.-:
Why do my hands hurt so much?...

Where am I? Am [still in my room?...
Why is my bed shaking?...

I shiver under the multiple layers of blankets
covering my entire body from the neck down. I am
drenched in sweat that has frozen my bones and set
my body aflame. My hands are clutching the sheets.
They plead for me to release, yet won't listen to me
when I command them to let go. I am paralyzed. Ive

woken up from my second or third nightmare.
I alanis

ITve lost count. Pve had them almost every night this
week, and the week before that, and so on and so
forth. I canTt compose myself. My heart is beating so
ferociously, like a war drum, that my vision begins to
blur. My eyes, open as wide as the night sky, strain to
find a spec of light in this dark abyss. My bed shakes

with every crash of the drum.

Mud, Td...
Thud, Tua...

I start to gain control of my body, but I dare not

move. My eyes scan the room the best they can,

having finally recovered from my blurred vision and

adjusting to the light. I am careful not to move my
head; whatever is in my room cannot know I am
looking for it. My heart continues to pound as I
tremble with fear in my bed.

Vhiid. Waud...
Thad. thud...

I start to panic even more. I canTt find the beast

that has tormented me these past few weeks. I can't
find the source of my night terrors. Letting go of
inhibition, I bolt upright and cast away my covers.
My skin embraces the freedom from the burning hell
that was under the covers. I begin to shake as I jump
out of bed and walk timidly towards my closet, my
hand gently touching the cold metallic door knob,
but I stand there, afraid. I never open my closet. If
there is something in there, I donTt want to find it.

I walk back to my bed, making sure to jump in it

so whatever dwells underneath isnTt given a chance
to grab hold of my ankles. Sitting upright in bed, |
chastise myself for believing that there are monsters
in closets or under beds. ~They've always been inside

our heads.
Thud. Phud...

Tisud. Thud...

Soft bumps against the wall behind me remind

me that my heart still continues to beat and still

controls the bed. I ache all over. Every fiber of my
being is screaming out right now. I start to recall
the nightmare, but in bits and pieces here and there.
The edges of the dream have been burned, the ashes

falling out of memory.

There was a crash...

Or mayne a fall...
I think it had been a stabbing...

All I can remember now is that there was blood
everywhere, and | was holding someone I cared
deeply for. T've seen almost everyone close to me
die. Last words escape their lips as one final plea for
life drifts away, but I never hear them. As the life
fades away from their eyes, so does mine. Selfishly, I
beg them to come back, knowing full well that my
begging will be for naught. Is this my own special
Hell made with love by my brain? What mortal sin
have I committed to make this sadistic asshole my
captor? I tried waking up. I screamed at myself to
wake up. I was fully aware of what was happening,
but my brain wouldnTt let up; it had become a traitor

to its own self.
Thud. thud...
Thud. Thud:..

Most people I talk to say that they never have
nightmares anymore. They say that I should see
someone about these terrors. I try to change the
subject, regretting having brought it up in the first
place. I'll figure it out on my own. ItTs nothing but a

thing"a destructive, demoralizing thing.

Time passes; I have no idea how much. I need

to sleep, but I donTt want to. I try to calm myself
down"my heart still beating as if it wants to escape
my chest, as if it has given up on this war and wants

to wage war with something or someone else.
Think of your goals in life...
Think happy thoughts...

My eyes start to weigh down. My body starts to

decompress. I know what is coming. Another round

NONFICTION

of self-induced torture. I try to fight it, but my
defenses are weak.

Deep, easy breathing...
Think happy thoughts...

My head meets the pillow as if they are old friends.
ITm still fighting to keep my eyes open, but one

way or another, | will sleep again"back into the
monster's grasp. My heart weakens, its beating calms

down.
Dont Het it...
Let your mind wander into the void...

I close my eyes and take one last deep breath...

Thod, thud...
Thud. Vand...

Did I scream this time?

Le

REBEL 57

FIRST PLACE

WALKING THROUGH AN
AIRPORT PARKING LOT

ERIKA DIETRICK

This morning I held you in my arms

in a dimly lit center of goodbyes...

Just nine hours ago I kissed your soft lips

with clenched face and burning eyes.

In just a few moments, you were gone.

In just a few hours, you were home.

Bridging hundreds of miles in those few hours,
I cried with face hidden, pointed at the ground,
stiff-legged in the parking lot trying to find a
metal safe haven, but it was so dark and so early,
the tears fell from the tip of my nose as I
desperately searched for my car, the car that
still clung to your scent in the passenger seat.

An older woman with bright white hair stepped out
of her bright white car

and stopped to gawk at me, and as I felt her prying

eyes bore into my soul

it was all I could do to keep from running, to protect
those parts of me

that no one would see again...

At least not for another few months, until I once

again entered
the center of goodbyes, of temporary stays,
cruelly masked as a cheery place of welcome.

Hello is never breathed without its evil twin

Goodbye.
My vocal cords shattered into a million sharp cries
with the click of the closing car door.

You can see him one last time as he walks to the

plane, the guard said,
Security isnTt the last goodbye.

I nodded and tried to walk past him, but he followed

me with
the smile of a man who thinks heTs done a good deed.

In the car, I wailed at the sight of the bent passenger

seat from
where you pulled your bags out of the back...

Nothing is worse than saying Goodbye

when you know Hello is six months away.

SECOND PLP ce

PICTURE FRAME

MCKENZIE SHELION

See the rugged photo on the sill.
What lies beyond the gleaming faces still?
A picture is a pose, how can it be proof?

From a frozen smile, can you draw the truth?

What secret and what tale is hidden far beneath?

Horrifying wonder, malicious love, perhaps

anxious relief?

Is there trickery to detect in the eyes?
Do they reflect a plethora of lies?

Or are they as they seem to be,
Showing no trace of misery?

How to decipher what broods behind

The picture perfect frame of mind.

REBEL 57

THIRD PLACE

HOMETOWN:

FT. WASHINGTON, MD

MAYA WILLIAMS

It was such a blessing to move away.

DonTt view me as a monster when you know

its trwe.
Cousin, I do not reject you.
I reject your acts.

Ps

You've made the olove the sinner, hate the sinT

expression so

Relevant.

Not that itTs a sin to use words such as
oGirl, you got me bent�

Like fitting a square peg into a round hole each
time you

Opened your mouth.

And it isnTt a sin to use a preposition at the end of

a sentence
When it isnTt needed, no.

ItTs the laugh that escapes from you like a chill in

the winter
Night whenever I speak...

I have cracked you up for so many years

Each time you called me owhite girl� or oschool

teacher.�

But I never knew using large words would beget

your sticks
And stones.

I called them ocontusions,� while you made me
dumb them

Down to obruises.�

I called them odefacements,� and you bent my

tongue hard
Enough to articulate oscars.�

I even had to swallow the word ointrovert� as a

dry pill

To settle for being oshy,� or oquiet.�

Hush, hush, you said, nothingTs wrong.

You thought that I cowered away to find bandages,

But you forgot that I didnTt change my

appearance when
Exiting my room.

I found my healing in a book that was my personal

snort of

Cocaine.
I didnTt want you to judge me for my habit.

I didnTt want to be forced into that faulty rehab

you made out

Of Heinekens and J-Pain music videos.

I have always had my share of dealers and stashes.

Even when you wiped me clean.

Each time you found my opiates, I had my pencil
as my thrifty

Heroin injection.

Every night strung out, I was able to feverishly

scribble away

My problems.

So, you know what?

Yes. Over half of my stories were about you.

Psychology has been too scary for you to
understand, but

Sublimation is the best defense
Mechanism.
You knew why I always ran home early.

Zipping up my marshmallow coat in the daily

northern cold,

I hoped to be pulling a Harry Potter so you

wouldn't see me

Leave every time.

It was time for warmth for me, cousin.
Time to use my drugs freely!

Time to be caressed by the open-minded,

And have my mind more opened than it has been.

Off to the south I went so you wouldn't shut me

up anymore!

It was such a blessing to move away.
It wasnTt to stop loving you.
I know you are not a monster.

Radioactive outpours from your past drowned

you to the

Extent of preaching ono mercy,T I
Understand now.

The venom is not entirely your own, I know.

...lell Auntie hello for me.

REBEL 57

ns OC etree,
Ri ee

cacmeinill

FIRS) PLACE

A RIDE IN THE CITY

NAN LOPATA
enamel on copper

TrigRD PLACE

ITALIAN BOOKS

ALCRIST MORETA
book-board

[ole] @ ag

SECOND PLACE

TWO SPOONS PAIRED
BARBARA MCFADYEN
enamel on metal, paper, thread

ee ee

REBEL 57

FIRST PLACE

TRAINED TREATS
ALEX INGLE
clay, glaze

iit
Le
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SE CONE PLACE

WOOD-FIRED VASE
GAINES BAILEY
| stoneware, layered glazes

THIRD PEACE

POUR ME
KYLIE DOWNIE
clay, glaze

REBEL 57

FIRS! PLACE

MORNING RISE

CADY MAY

DIGITAL PHOTO

rpeapasinen A opygigail

SECOMD PLACE

GREENVILLE MILL
RACHAEL BOWMAN
archival inkjet print

oge eas mS i ata

TrHikD FLACE

TRADED FOR GOLD
ALCRIST MORETA
inkjet print

REBEL 57

Filipe! PLACE

JACKSONTS STORY

DENVER ROLLINGSVORTE

BUTTERFLY

smc OND PLACE

LAUREN SAWYER

REBEL 57

44

rimpol FLACE

AFGHANI WOMAN

ABIR ABUMOHSEN

lors, ink pens, markers

_erimsaco

watercolor

DRAWING

>eCOND PLACE

EMPTY EXPRESSION
DAKOTA MERRITT
charcoal, tan paper

45

FIRST PEACE

WILSON NGUYEN

SECOND PLACE

RYAN SHACKLEFORD

AUSTIN LAMB

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CAMPING FOOD

REBEL 57
ElecT Pile ce

HIKE
KATELYN STEWART

packaging design

SsEeCOND PLAGE

HAPPY CHEFS
JENNIFER WARD
packaging design

RAPHIC DESIGN

hy

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Bon Bey

neon ine ttt

Phim PLACE

ROBIN HOOD
NOTTINGHAM PALE ALE
KATELYN STEWART

beer packaging

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FIRS! PLACE

DALI

EMILY TRAPANI
pencil and digital

SECOND PLACE

CHINESE NEW YEAR:
DOG AND HORSE
MARIAH MORDECAI

oil glaze

ILLUSTRATION

TmiiaD PLACE

EVE
ALCRIST MORETA
traditional with digital color

S|

REBEL 57

Riel PLACE

QUILTED BELT BUCKLE

ALISON BAILEY

feloric.

dyed and commercia

, hand-

enamel
and thread

copper,

pearls,

SECOND PLACE

BEARY BOLO

SARAH HARVELL
copper, bear fur, bone, leather

THIRD PLACE

SUSHI WANDS

(CHOPSTICKS)

MARY KLACZA

copper, sterling silver, shibuichi, shakudo

NS
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FIRe! PLACE

CHROMA #1

NAN LOPATA

cast resin, knitted copper, sterling

~ECOUND PLACE

BOUNDARIES
SARAH HOOPER
silver gelatin print with wax,
thread, and paint

THIRD PLACE

THE PASSIONATE LIVES OF ANGELS,
LUNATICS, AND WARRIORS

AMBER D. WATTS

mixed media on panel

REBEL 57

FIRS; Peace

CONVERSATIONAL TABOO
RUTH JAMPOL
acrylic ON wood panel

THIRD PLA Ce

MEESH
EMILY POPE
oil on panel

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SeCOND PEACE

THE SHORT LIFE OF A DAISY
LUPITA NAVA
acrylic OM OKlISto| OOard

REBEL 57

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TAYLORTS COMPASS
CAMILLE BUTTRAM

intaglio relief

SECOND PLACE

CAMILLE BUTTRAM

intaglio



PRINTMAKING

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HOLA-POPPER
JOSH JACKSON
color lithography

high relief of painted cast aluminum, walnut frame

Fimo! PLACE
CHRIS MORGAN

>ECOND PLACE

DIGITAL REVOLUTION
CWHERE ARE WE GOING?)

JAESUNG LEE
bronze, iron (cast), metal sheet

THIRD PLACE

APOCALYPSE

JAESUNG LEE
cast aluminum

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PIRS |] PLACE
RAINSTORM ILLUSION
ALLISON MCKINLEY

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REBEL 57
hand-dyed

THIRD PLACE

UNDERNEATH THE
FLOORBOARDS
LEIGH BRYANT
screenprinting

SECOND PEACE

PORTRAIT OF RADIANCE
TERRI MENKE
fabric/thread

REBEL 57

FiRS? PLACE

VOICE OF AMERICA
(GREENVILLE, NC)

SITE B

Crrrio]INe ZURCHER

ival ohotograpoh

inkjet arch

|

| TRADITIONAL PHOTO 65

SECOND PLACE

THE HAND THAT FEEDS (#1)
| BRIAN CULBERTSON
cyanotype print

THIRD PU Ace

| ENLIGHTENED
: LISA SNEAD

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REBEL 57







DIGIIAL PHOTO

UNTITLED
EMILY DIMSDALE
inkjet print

CERAMICS

SAKE FOR TWO
GAINES BAILEY
wood-fired stoneware and cut glass

HONORABLE MENTION

FILM ART

THE BEARD
MACKENZIE SMITH

GRAPHIC DESianh

ARCTIC MONKEYS
SHOW POSTER
JUSTIN GROEGER

letteroress poster

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ART FEMINISTS

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ALYSSA CRUZ
copper, ena

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| HONORABLE MENTION

PRINTMAKING

WE CAN NEVER GO BACK
JOSH JACKSON
lithography

cz REBEL 57

JUDGES

VISUAL ART

MATTHEW AMANTE
AILEEN DEVLIN

SARAH WEST

LITERATURE

ANONYMOUS

DANCE

ALYSON COLWELL VASE

rilLM

KEVIN TREADWAY

MUSIC

ANONYMOUS

CREDITS

REBEL 57 STAFF

= Wl ) OK

ALY Se ROCHEROLLE

Das ONER S

MAT PT ROUSE
KRISTEN BITAR

GENERAL MANAGER

SUMMER FALGIANO

FACULTY ADVISOR

CRAIG MALMROSE

PHO!|OGRAGEY

HENRY STINET PHOTOGRAP Tc

S>IUDENT MEDIA

JOIN FAK VE Y
TERRENCE DOVE
YVONNE MOve
MARCOS ALICEs
JANET ROLLING

FILM CREW

CAMPUS 3) PRODUCTIONS

COPY EDITORS

CRAIG MALMIROSE
LisA PROC IOR
LEANING &. oMiim
GUNNAR SWANSON
ANGELA WELLS

REBEL 57

PRODUCTION NOTES

PRN |e

eee BA is PRINTING

EDITION

7 OOC BOOKS

PRESS

KOMOR!] EITAHRONE S40

SEOCK

COVER:
NEW PAGE GUSTO, GLOSs IOOLS

le |e
MCCOY SAPP, silk eOse

Ty eCeorArH 1

GOTHAM
ADOBE CASLON PRO

®
a MIX

Paper from
responsible sources
FSC

www.fsc.org FSC® Ci 01 537

CREDITS

SPECIAL THANKS

MARCOS ALICES
JOIN DIXON
TERRENCE WO ye
HOLY SARRIOTT
JORN RAR ey
CRAIG MALMROSE
YVONNG MOVE
Liss PROC lOrR
PRANK PULLEY
LisA SEI ROBINSON
JANIE TROLTING
LEANN &. oMiii
HENRY olINiDe
GUNNAR SWANSON
KEVIN TREADWAY
ANGELA WELLS

THbo DAVIS PRINTING

Pil | COUNTY ARTS COUNCIE
Al EMERGE

UNI VERS Cea NING
AND GRAPHICS

QUR PRORESSORS, --Mitips, Rishi ,
AND ANYONE We MiG WAVE Te | Our

REBEL 57

COPYRIGHT

Rebel 57 is produced by and for the students of
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within Student Media in the Self-Help Building.
The contents are copyrighted 2014 and 2015 by
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