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REBEL ART AND LITERARY JOURNAL 2001 ISSUE NUMBER FORTY-THREE
: 3 me poiten a 3 ; om
~"
EDITOR
CARL NIELSON
ART DIRECTORS
MATTHEW BREWER
JOEL BOWERS
COPYWRITER
CHRIS SALERNO
GALLERY JUDGES
STANTON BLAKESLEE
BETH BLAKE
MICHAEL EHLBECK
LITERARY JUDGES
SUE LUDDEKE
BRETT HURSEY
MARY CARROLL HACKETT
PHOTOGRAPHY
HENRY STINDT
JACOB GARMON
DESIGN ADVISOR
CRAIG MALMROSE : ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR
MULTIMEDIA ADVISOR
CARL TWAROG - ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR
STUDENT MEDIA STAFF
PAUL WRIGHT
YVONNE MOYE
WEIGHT OF THE CLEAR BLUE SKY 8
Stacey Cochrane
illustrations by Mark Traughber
DESIRE ps)
Brittany Sondberg
illustration by James Harris
THE PILGRIM 32
Stuart Parks
illustrations by Chad Leaming
PHOTOS I'VE NEVER TAKEN 50
Kat Fowler
illustration by Kat Fowler
TRIAL BY FIRE 52
Steve Losey
illustrations by Carl Nielson
NIGHTCANOEING re)
Emily Little
illustration by Mike Litwin
GALLERY 66
MAGNOLIA CATALYST 84
Jason Whitman
illustration by David Springer
WHAT RIDES IN ON DEATH 86
Robin Vuchnich
illustration by Robin Vuchnich
THE IRISHMAN 88
Emily Little
illustration by James Harris
FALLING INTO MYSELF 96
Suzanne Bellamy
illustration by James Harris
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[am a ninety-two-year-old virgin. Those friends of min
Story by Stacey Cochrane
T . , o ° � {
\llustrations by Mark Traughber haven't died yet say ITve had obad luck with women.� BY
truth, ITve simply been waiting for the right one to com®
It's been tough since they placed me in the home. That ®
twenty-four years ago. ITve had a hard time here.
The home opens onto the sky like a mile-high airstrip: Tf
=
oe
- te
i TNO ARERR
10
rebel
miles south into Asheville. ItTs better to have a heart attack in
the summer months up here.
On sunny days, I like to play checkers outside on the lawn. On
the lawn, thereTs a gazebo and benches and chairs, and the nurses
make us play kickball once a week. Most everyone enjoys the
lawn. The grass is thick and green and maintained very well.
But the views " the views are beyond amazing. On a clear day, I
can see for a hundred miles.
Everything within a ball toss of the home is green " thick,
verdant, and rich with life. Further in the distance, the green
becomes darker " a forest green where we can see the tops of
trees at lower elevations. And further still this forest green
blends into a kind of pale, grayish blue under a clear sky, and
the blue grows paler and paler " fifty to sixty miles into the dis-
tance " until it is like a thin gray line of smoke as far as we can
see from here " one hundred miles " and this is where it
merges into the color of the sky and the two are indistinguishable.
Most mornings, I take my coffee on a bench overlooking the
to her, jousting at the air with my cane "
" playful at first, then serious.
AM clouds that rise up from the valleys below. ItTs like a bed "
oYou might think ITve accepted it,� I said
the clouds " a soft, warm bed with clean, white sheets. I used to dream of lying there with a
woman, holding her in the afterglow.
There was a woman. A few years ago. She was young. Very young. Her name was Pattie, and she
was a college intern. We'd walk the grounds of the home " her making certain I wasn't going to
die under her watch " and me with my cane and a deep fear of death.
oYou might think ITve accepted it,� I said to her, jousting at the air with my cane " playful at first,
then serious. oBut, Pattie, I havenTt. 1 do not want to die. Ever.�
Pattie was an intern from the university in Asheville. She studied Gerontology. She and I were
strolling in the gardens, and the rhododendron were in bloom, fragrant and sweet. PattieTs eyes
were the color of the trees, and she believed in fate.
oBut, Joe, thatTs the real challenge of living, isnTt it,� she said.
A month later Pattie told me over a dining hall dinner of meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, mixed
vegetables, bread, and juice that I was handsome. She said I'd, osugar sky eyes.�
The next day she laughed at me when L asked her to a movie.
oA movie?� She said, realizing I was serious.
es
oked
Ou \
the «
=nde
birt!
dh
2Is
hap
: are
wit!
oth
kS
cers
The
, would you like to come with me to a movie,� I said.
oked into her eyes, and she returned the look with spirit.
~ou were only sixty years younger,� she said with an earnest smile. oYou are so damn cute.�
the end, I walked the grounds of the home and gazed at a bed of clouds alone. PattieTs intern-
=nded a few months later, and she left the home. She married a television weatherman " a
g man more famous than me " and dropped out of college a year before graduating. She
birth to the weathermanTs child. I turned eighty-four a month after the boyTs birth. She
~d him Joseph, and she wrote me letters for a while. TheyTve another child now: a girl, Allea
>. I see PattieTs spirit in the weathermanTs eyes when he delivers the weather report. I see that
happy.
: are free to leave if we are able, if we are motivated, if we believe. But most of us are comfort-
with our existence here. We receive three hot meals. We have our beds to sleep in. We have
other. But ITm an odd bird, I suppose. I donTt want to die with the old people.
*k Sherman was old. He was seventy-six, a Marietta, Georgia native, and I used to beat him at
cers. HeTd been married three times. And was a grocer for forty years. His first two wives left
The third died following a long bout with cancer. He used the word olove� frequently when he
2 of her. Her name was Marianne.
oI loved her dimples,� he said. oAn infectious smile, man. And I loved it. I loved her. And in the
bed " Joe " let me tell you ... that was reason enough for living"�
He stopped abruptly. He was gazing out the window. We were in the rec room, playing checkers.
It was January, and the sunlight was brilliant on the white landscape outside. The branches of
trees were covered with snow. The gazebo was covered with snow. The benches were covered with
snow. And far below, the valley was gray and white: the trees a blend of winter " and life waiting
to come, undulating like waves on a vast and wintry sea.
He looked at me and held my line of vision. oJoe, she was my reason.�
I looked at him and realized he might cry. I moved my piece.
oYour move,� I said.
He looked at the board, then at me as though for some reason that might explain it all. looked
out the window without an answer. The landscape was brilliant.
ITm dying here and thereTs not a goddamn thing I can do about. I feel it over me late at night,
rebel
when the nurses have turned my bedroom lights out " after ITve eaten the jello and drunk my
dixie cup of juice, which they give us for our bedtime snack " after ITve used the restroom down
the hall " after ITve shuffled back up the hallway in my slippers.
Tonight, when I passed by ole MackenzieTs room, I heard soft sobs coming from behind his door.
Sherman died Tuesday. Mackenzie and Sherman were good friends. They were about the same age.
Sherman's family had the body flown to Marietta. Mackenzie was the last person to talk to Sherman.
ie. Tr
I knocked on MackieTs door. There was a moment before I heard a response.
+ time
oWho's there,� Mackenzie said.
ikno
His voice cracked " surprised and then worried that I might have heard him crying.
des
oItTs Joe, Mackie,� I said through the closed door. oYou up?�
look
I heard his feet hit the floor. I heard him shuffle across the tiles. The handle of the door turned
~He s
and there stood Mackie. He had light blue, watery eyes and I was sure he'd been crying. They 7
shit,
avoided mine. His face was lean and his hair was a thin, wispy gray like silver straw. He had big
en I
ears and his cheeks were red and loose. He looked at me quickly and then around his room, then
ew. A
back at me again. His gums moved involuntarily up and down. There was a light on at his night
$ alo
stand across the room. I noticed the digital clock there and 7 .
.An
scription bottle of pills. Mackie had a picture of his grandkid® "
irrie
noticed it was turned from its normal position. HeTd been lo
atT
it, | realized. :
/me:;
oCome on in, Joe,� he said.
He lc
I walked across the room and he moved a wooden chair =
corner for me to sit in. He sat on the bed, fidgeting with stuffT
night stand: a pen and paper, a book. I noticed he'd somethin
ten on the paper but he placed the book over it, kind of casud
didnTt want me to see what heTd written. I turned the chair
backwards and sat on it with my arms resting on its back. !
looked at him.
oYou been thinking about Sherman,� I said.
He looked at me. He didnTt say anything. Mackie was just a)
thought. He was only seventy-eight. But when he talked he al
. sounded old to me.
oI miss him, man, you know,� I said. oHe was a good guy.�
oWhen you're friends with someone, Joe,� Mackie said. oIt é
pay to think about losing them. And then one day, Joe, mat v
ee
13
rebel
ie. TheyTre all gone. You know? And it never really sinks in at
: time " you know " when they die. I mean you're living it,
ththe old people.
4 know? You do what you do. You help each other out when
1e W1
1're sick. You talk when you're lonely. You're in it. You know?�
looked at him. He didnTt talk like a seventy-eight-year-old at
He sounded much older.
shit, there were times, Joe,� Mackie said, oafter Clarise died "
en I didnTt want to go on. You know? Our lives were all I
sw. And when she was gone, man, the world was a world I
] P alone in and I was old. I ainTt gonna lie to you, man. I was
a
ad And itTs tough to start a new life, when you're old. We were
i
_" for forty-two years, Joe. All we knew was each other.�
that'd be tough,� I said.
We have each other. But ITm anodd
bird, I suppose.
IdonTt want to d
-�"�mean what the hell do I have to stay here for,� he said.
He looked right into my eyes. And I realized he wasn't just
r f10
: King about the home. The home was just a place. It was peo-
tullT
ple. It was people that mattered. And it didnTt matter whether a man was in Cairo or Connecticut.
~hint
If he didnTt care for the people around him, he wasnTt really alive.
sua)
Mackie owned a room at a fancy joint down in Asheville. But he never went there. From what |
ir af
gathered, he'd bought it for Clarise, but she passed soon after he presented it to her. He never
ck.!
stayed there, and in the four years that ITd known Mackie, heTd mentioned it no more than three
times. He was free to leave anytime he wanted, but he chose the home. He chose the old people.
) Mackie looked at me. oEverybody ITve met here dies, Joe. Just when you get to where you trust
ist @
someone, when you find they ainTt a bunch of assholes, they die. Me and Sherman were talking
he a!
about busting outta here. | mean, why we gotta stay here at this death camp " thatTs what this
is: a goddamn death camp.�
y:
3 | looked at him for a moment. oWhere were you gonna go?�
| oit d!
; He looked me right in the eyes again, as though he were letting me in on a secret, as though it
tt
an,
a
rebel
o California.�
were a magical land.
oCalifornia?� I asked.
oCalifornia, Joe,� Mackie
said. oSherman knew a
woman there when he was in
the Navy. We were gonna
look her up.�
oThat was during the war,
Mackie,� I said.
Mackie nodded his
head, excitedly.
people around him, he
If he didnTt care for the
wasn't really alive.
I said to him, oThat was
fifty years ago, man.�
oSherman said she worked at this joint " The CatTs Meow,� Mackie said. oSaid the women there
were dynamite. Real ladies, you know? Gave me a photo.�
I watched Mackie open his night stand and he removed a black and white photo and carefully
handed it to me. It was of Sherman when he was about twenty years old and he was wearing a
sailor uniform with the scarf around his neck. The borders of the photo were faded brown from all
the years. In aged pen writing at the bottom of the photo were the words: SAN DIEGO ~42.
Sherman's arm was around this woman who was leaning to kiss his cheek.
oRandy O'Dell,� Mackie said as if it were his own memory, as if savoring his time with her.
~Randy OTDell.�
I looked at Mackie circumspectly. oMackie,� I said. oThat was fifty years ago, man. How much of that
stuff they got you on?�
oShe has friends,� Mackie said.oSherman says she has friends.�
oMackie " that was fifty year ago. World War II, man. Sherman's dead, buddy. And that woman's prob-
ably gone, too.�
Mackie looked from the photo to me. oThereTs always hope, Joe. If you ainTt got hope, what have you got?�
oReality, Mackie,� I said. oYou got reality, right here, in front of you. Me. 1 ainTt a photo from 1942,
man. I ain't letters in a book. I ainTt words. ITm flesh and blood. ITm ninety-two years old and ITm
here in your room, man. We're in this goddamn home and even though no one really gives a shit,
you can't be losing your head on me, man.�
He looked at me, and I saw that he wasnTt crazy. He was there. He was dreamy, sedate, kind of
ire. |
oVc
om
It v
sted
sut
Is «
Shi
" ee ""
Je looked at me, and I saw that he
wasnTt crazy. He was there. He was
dreamy, sedate, kind of removed, |
~ealized. But he was there. He just
wanted someone to care.
~moved, I realized. But he was there. He just wanted someone to
ire. He wanted me to"
oYou boys know itTs way past your bed time,� a voice came
om the doorway.
It was nurse Jane McDougle, a fat woman in her forties, who
*ted like she cared. I think she did most of the time.
~We're just shooting the shit, Jane,� I said to her. oTalking
jut Sherman. You know?�
~Is everything alright,� she asked.
She looked at Mackie, then at me. She realized something was up.
We were all good friends,� I said. oItTs tough. You know how it
, I'm sure, Jane.�
She looked at me, then to Mackie. oAre you all right, Mr. Mackenzie?�
There was a moment where I thought Mackie was gonna
ack. | thought he might say something absurd. I looked at him.
2 looked into my eyes.
Mr. Mackenzie,� the nurse repeated. oAre you okay?�
Mackie held my vision, then turned to the nurse. oEverything
ill be alright,� he said. oI just needed to talk to Joe. ItTs been
ugh on us " all of us " you know?�
He looked at me. I looked at him and then Nurse McDougle,
and I nodded in affirmation. I saw that she realized everything
was okay. oWell, if you boys need anything just let me know.�
She smiled. oDonTt stay up too late, now, you hear. You boys
need the rest.�
oGTnight,� Mackie said.
She smiled, turned, and was gone.
We were silent for a moment. I stared at him, but he just
looked at the tiles on the floor without expression. I watched
him a while longer, but he had nothing to say. At that moment, I
believe I stayed there because I felt something was wrong. He
seemed lonely. I stayed there making sure he'd be all right. But
there was no way to know.
After some time, I stood up and placed his chair back by his desk.
oWell, ITm gonna hit the hay, Mackie,� I said.
He looked at me, and I saw the sadness still there, a glimmer
of desperation beneath blinking eyes. But he was gonna be all
right, I thought. I believed he was gonna be all right.
oI think it was worth it,� Mackie said.
He caught my line of vision once more. I wasnTt sure what he
meant, but I looked at him and managed a smile. And I thought
to myself that heTd live to face another day.
rebel
aan
oa
oGTnight, Joe,� he said.
I nodded, and he turned out his lamp. I closed the door.
The ambulance arrived at dawn. I heard the commotion from
beneath the warm blankets of my bed. I rolled onto my side and
peered out the window. It was light out, and the ground was
white. The lights of the ambulance were spinning at the side of
our building, and steam rose from the idling exhaust pipe in the
cold air. I noticed snow swept to the side of the windshield, and
there was snow on the grill on the front of the ambulance and
on the roof. But there was no movement to indicate an emer-
gency in progress. Far in the distance, I saw the valley blanketed
by snow.
I rose from bed.
When I opened my door, I immediately saw a group of resi-
dents huddled outside of MackieTs door.
I asked one of the old ladies that lived on the hall: Thelma.
What's going on?�
oItTs Mackie,� Thelma said.
I peered in the door, but his room was filled with paramedics
and a couple of shift nurses. It was tough to see clearly through
the people. I saw the lower half of MackieTs body on his bed. It
was motionless. I stood there a moment longer.
oYou all try and clear out of the way,T one of the paramedics
said to us from the doorway. oItTll help us all.�
None of the residents moved. The paramedics lifted MackieTs
body from his bed to a gurney. I saw that he was not alive.
I heard a young voice inside the room say calmly, confiden-
tially to another young person inside the room, oHe wrote it
all out here.�
There was a confirmation made inside the room, but outside
the residents huddled together like frightened sheep looking
from one to the other quizzically. The paramedics began to
wheel his body out of the room. I did not want to be there anymore.
I pushed through the crowd of old people and walked towards
the exit at the end of the dorm hallway. The cold wind?
my face. Outside, everything was covered in freshly f@
I walked across the parking lot to the lawn. My slipE
trail of twin divots in the six inches of fresh snow on
ground. My robe flapped in the breeze. All the while !#
the valley below and over the lower ranges to the horit
hundred miles in the distance: the huge expanse of 42©
stood there in the middle of the snow-covered lawn 10°
the envelope around me, around us all. The sun shon®
cold. And I could die at any moment.
I rise from the blue floor of the rooftop pool, easing : |
wide, warm sky. The water is crystalline clear and wa�"�
refreshing. Early May sunshine bakes the white concl®
rooftop patio. Water rolls off my aged skin. It is taut. Fil
skin. And I stand here, tall and not without heft, insid®
water. I sweep my silver hair back, wet, with my hand,
breathe deeply, my chest filling with the clean, pure m°
I feel young here, away from the home, in my own Pp
the first time in a quarter century. Mackie would have*
happy here. I catch more than one young woman eyel
casually from behind dark sunglasses and sultry novel®
They lie recumbent, supine in white plastic poolside
here, atop the Hyatt Regency in downtown Asheville, Ni
Carolina. These are women of miens. Women accusto�"�
sunshine. Women fond of mountain resorts and foreig"
designed SUVs. Women whose homes have thirty-foot 6°
dows and majestic mountain views. Rich women. young
Middle-aged women who give young men erections-
I taste their skin on the water that rolls over my liP*
is blue. It is redolent of chlorine, cocoa butter, and fert
moisture. There is much to like here.
One woman lies topless, sunning her back. The skin ®
back is smooth and bronzed. Her thighs are firm and sP
d
the white recliner. Her backside rises bulbous and rour
n pla
aon� ~
ve ba
eintt
\-
vels
ide�"�
rebel
it |
No one dies on the
twenty-third floor of a
fancy joint like the
Hyatt,T I say to a fel-
low at the newspaper
stand. oDo they?�
_"-
_"
No!
twin balloons pressed firmly together. She wriggles, oneT at
her rump moving up, then the other. I walk casually tO! ce,
steps leading out of the pool. My bathing shorts cling tO) re:
body. Discretion is an afterthought. I make my way to a red Th
towel off, and lie down absorbing sunlight. ane
We are atop forty floors and several thousand feet. MOnis
ducers vacation here. Comedians of considerable fame Pind |
inside warm and intimate dens in the historic district Pan
Jams from Seattle once played at GidalgoTs a few blocks# Th
Cherry Street. The oHyatt House� as it was once nil yay
is now often referred to as the oRiot House� for its raffish Hens
ribald clientele. is th
An hour later, I take a hot shower in my new suite ofthe,
twenty-third floor. I dry myself off with a thick towel atl Tr
in clean, comfortable clothes. I decide to take a stroll uP rd:
MickTs Cafe on the corner of Cherry and Wade. ens:
They've tables outside, and ITve already eaten up thels mi
other times in the fourteen days since I moved into my Mods
suite on the twenty-third floor. Outside, traffic is modeffrekr
fair number of folks are out on this Saturday afternoot�"� abl
the shops here in the historic district. Some of the buildings date to the turn of the century. last
oNo one dies on the twenty-third floor of a fancy joint like the Hyatt,� I say to a fellow at the mot!
newspaper stand. oDo they?� +
The newspaper stand is across the street from MickTs, and the fellow that runs it stands there wor!
with his large, fat hands leaning on the counter. He looks at me rather stoically. s
oWhatever you say, old man,� he says. oTwo bucks for the paper.� st
I pay for the newspaper, cross the street, and have a seat at a table outside on the sidewalk at oHi
Mick's. ThereTs an umbrella over the table, and it is some time before anyone comes to the table, I pSV
realize. But ITm in no particular hurry. I read over the sports page and see that a heavyweight fighter o
from England is scheduled ina bout against the champ from the US. I read that the loser will take Pac
home seven-point-two million dollars to the winner's nine even. Both of the fighters look bland |
and without desire. And I think to myself, it would be hard to have desire if you earn seven 4
million bucks for losing. guid
Iam hungry.
I look up from the paper, and I see her. SheTs a young woman. SheTs a waitress. And sheTs helping
>
"nold couple " probably in their seventies " to read the menu
one a table across the way. The seventy-year-old man looks con-
ly tOhsed But this girl, this waitress, she smiles to them. She reas-
ng =; them, and I reason that they are tourists.
a red They have cameras and shopping bags and wear white, cush-
oned shoes. They appear to successfully place their order. And
t. MOnis waitress smiles at them both, and the old man looks confused
me P nd bewildered. His|wife smiles curtly and I see her mouth
ict. Prank you� to the waitress.
ockst The waitress takes the menus from them and then glances my
niMyay for a moment and, suddenly, I sense time and space con-
fish #ensing into a field of vision that only contains her and me. ItTs
is though time is downshifting for a sharp curve in a space
e oftyeTve just created. This young waitress and me.
el atl The moment is absurd for it could very well be a moment as
i uP Srdinary as any other moment in my life. Only, it isn't. It is
~enseless, ITm well aware, but I look into her eyes and a connection
thelé's made like no othersingle moment in my entire tife and she
my "ods her head as though in slow motion, a coy smile on her lips,
ydeficknowledging me at the table and I feel the wind ruffle the
gon ablecloth and I sense the sun warming my skin and a thought
lashes through my mind " an image really " of the earth in
Motion rotating on its axis, speeding through wide open space
iround the sun. It is odd. It is inexplicable. It is senseless in a
World given over to only that which can be sensed. But as sense-
l�,�ss as it is, 1 realize she is the one.
SheTs maybe seventeen.
oHi there, pops,� she says. oCan I get you something to drink?�
oSweet tea,� I say. oI'd like a sweet tea.�
With her look, time eases into regular speed, the curve in
space straightening from its bend.
She looks at me quizzically. oDo I know you from somewhere?�
I look into her eyes and speak without thought, as though
guided beyond my own will. oItTs strange,� I say, obut I was just
wondering the exact same thing.�
We stare at each other for some time. And suddenly we both
shiver at the exact same moment.
oTea,� she says, her voice a stroke of engaging unbelief.
oSweet tea.� I confirm inexplicably.
She looks at me a brief moment longer and I see her eyebrows
furrow over just as she decides to turn and head back inside the
cafe. She moves into her routine. And I return to my paper.
She comes to my table several times over the course of the
next hour. She is charismatic and smart, which she realizes well
and balances with control.
oI'm Joe,� I say; I offer her my hand. oJoe Stocks.�
She wipes her hand on her MickTs Cafe apron and says, oItTs
nice to meet you, Joe Stocks.�
She shakes my hand.
And she stands there with this coy smile on her lips. SheTs
rebel
2 0 ck EG TO Ng OAT ne ENG EA ELL RE EES TE OTE EB a ODER
aes, ~ Pest oe ce ms i eed fee o . eee nied rine tyson Se Mn she $c ¢
silent, and I realize sheTs playing with me.
oYou like it here,� I say.
oWhatTs not to like,� she says.
We look at each other for a moment. SheTs wearing a pair of
jeans, a white apron, and a maroon t-shirt with the words
MICKTs CAFE printed over her left breast. Her hair is a sandy
blonde that falls gently as it pleases over her ears. Her face is
round like an apple and her eyes a deep shade of brown; her
eyebrows are smooth as driftwood. She carries herself with an
ironic blend of playfulness and no-nonsense, shifting easily
between the two like a Chevy in the turns. She is charismatic.
oApril,� she says. oApril Olsen. ItTs a pleasure to meet you, Joe.�
She stands there looking at me for a moment. I realize sheTs
trying to guess my age.
oSeventeen,� I say.
She smiles, realizing. oNot bad, Joe Stocks.�
oWould you like to come with me,� I say looking into her eyes.
oWould you like to come with me for a drink, after you're done here?�
She realizes ITm serious. She smiles, flattered, then her face
becomes businesslike.
oI donTt know you, man,� she says.
oSure you do,� I say. oITm Joe Stocks, a man just as any man. I've
a place over at the Hyatt House, and I promise you a
good conversation.�
I blink my eyes. She smiles a genuine smile. She is beautiful.
She is intelligent.
She shakes her head, but itTs not to say no. She makes eye con-
tact with me again, then turns, and goes back inside MickTs.
I watch her as she goes. I return to my paper and finish my
sandwich and tea. Several minutes later she comes to my table
with a matter-of-fact look on her face. She looks like she has
something to say. I look at her.
oTTll tell you what, Joe Stocks,� she says. oIf I guess your age, I'll
She lets me let this sink in. I realize the likelihood of her
essing my age.
She continues, oAnd I'll guess fairly, Joe.�
She smiles, seeing the expression that has risen on my face.
If I guess your age,� April says, oI'll come with you. And, Joe "
5u can't lie.�
Do | get a spread,� I say.
A spread?� She asks, almost laughing.
Five years,� I say, oover or under.�
She shakes her head.
~Exact year on the money,� she says firmly.
We hold each otherTs line of vision for some time. There are
sues of trust going on here that transcend our ages.
Fair enough, April Olsen,� I say. oFair enough. You guess my
ge and we've a conversation written by the stars. Call it fate.�
A drink,� she says. otogether.�
oAnd good conversation.�
oGood conversation,� she agrees.
She looks into my eyes, at my face; she turns her head to one side looking at my hair, then my
shoulders. ThereTs an earnestness and integrity there that makes me want to hope. It is clear. It is
powerful. Looking into her eyes, I hope.
A breeze blows cool. The sky is blue, The sun shines on the table.
I look at her, she guesses, and then she looks for a response.
= time do you get off?�
1
April wants me. I tell her oitTs probably the clam sauce� and it
) ay well be. SheTs ordered string hair pasta and portellini with
vam sauce and the dish smells fantastic.
4 You like,� she offers.
q She wraps her fork in the pasta and touches it to my lips. It
a Stes of a milky metallic flavor like the ocean blended finely by
~* �,� portellini and clam sauce.
| o oThat's wonderful,� I say.
i oTold you,� she says.
=
~a
ay
ae
.
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We stare at each other for some time. There is a clarity in her
eyes like the sky " like a clear, blue sky. And there's gravity
there, too. ItTs as though she realizes things that others miss
when they pass through life. ItTs ironic, I know, but sheTs quite |
possibly the wisest person I've ever met.
oYour eyes have the weight of a clear, blue sky,� I say.
She looks up from her dish. oHow does the sky have weight?�
oI could look into,your eyes the moment I die,� I say. oAnd I'd
realize that it was all worth it. I'd realize that this world isn't all
that bad. I'd hope, April. I'd hope I'd wake looking into your eyes
on the other side of all this.�
She smiles. She looks at me. We are silent for a while.
The waiter comes to the table.
o6
I could look into your eyes the
moment I die,� I say. oAnd I'd realize 7
that it was all worth it.
S]
Stay
Che
decT
fror
am:
oy
Ss.
oAnother glass of Chianti,� he asks. Her
oPlease,� she says. abl
oSir,� he says to me. tho
oNo, thank you.� you
He takes her glass and vanishes, only to return a momen
two later. AprilTs had no trouble ordering wine while wil, IT
She knows people. She carries herself well. She looks at ® S
she sips the Chianti, and I watch her lips on the rim oftiea
wine glass. oN
I sense sheTs undressing me with her eyes. She looks ph. I
wrinkles and the lines, the gray, the silver. She looks at S
at my eyebrows, my cheekbones, my chin, my shoulde�"�Tthe
places the wine glass on the table. Then, her eyes ris�,� to! oT
; ee am f
mine and we hold each otherTs line of vision for a mome wit
_ ae S
ple:
She says, oI want you, Joe.�
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I stare at her for a moment as though the words are foreign. She doesnTt lose sight of me. We
Stay that way for some time.
After a few moments, I realize what sheTs said and I find myself practically shouting at the waiter,
Check! I'd like the check, please!�
She doesnTt let go of my eyes.
oWould you unhook that strap?� April turns her back to me.
My hand shakes. I realize I may be close to dying. I think this has something to do with AprilTs
decision. She realizes I am willing to die to have her, and this arouses her tremendously.
We are on the 23rd floor, the taste of dinner still on our lips. ITve turned the lights down low. And
from the window, we can see the cityscape and the mountain ranges in the distance. The view is
amazing. It is clear. It is dusk. It is mountainous. I touch her.
oYes,� she says. oRight there.�
She turns to me.I am standing before her. She is beautiful.
Her breasts are round, smooth, taut " they have a remark-
able symmetry and perfection. She blinks at me with
thoughtful, intelligent eyes. I look at her equally. Her skin is
young and smooth. She looks into my eyes, and I feel ITve
mf something to confess. April runs her fingers through my hair.
e wit oTTve never been with a woman,� I say.
S at She leans back and looks at me to see if ITm joking. She
n ofealizes ITm telling the truth.
oNeither have I,� she says after a moment.
aks ITm serious,� I say. oITm a ninety-two-year-old virgin.�
s at sf She looks at me a moment longer. Her eyes glance around
de the suite, then focus on me.
se to! oI donTt want to force you into anything youTre uncomfortable
10 With, Joe,� she says.
_""_ She moves a step closer. Her breasts graze my chest. Her nip-
ples look warm and delicious. Her eyes realize my honesty,
my vulnerability.
oEverything will be fine,� she says.
She looks into my eyes and rubs her hand over Roger.
Reflexively, Roger rises like an Olympic miler doing his pre-
a
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race stretches.
oYes,� I say, oI like to think so.�
April moves closer and places her mouth over mine. I kiss her.
My hand rises to her breasts. Her nipples feel warm and hard
between my fingers. I am enjoying this very much, I realize.
oA lifetime is a very long time,� I say.
She unzips my pants.
oYes, it is,� she says. oA very long time.�
oI may die doing this,� I say.
She looks at me with hunger in her eyes.
oYou won't die, Joe,� she says. oWith me.�
I look into her eyes. She has me. I slowly lift my shirt over my
head. She looks at my chest, and then grazes her fingers over my
skin through my silver hair.
oI want you,� she says. oI want you inside me, Joe.�
I move close to her, and our bare chests touch. Her Skin is
warm and moist, mine vintage and classic. My heart races.
She takes my hand and places it on her, and I feel her wet
beneath her white, cotton panties. She moves me back onto the bed and removes my pants.
Roger stands at complete attention. I watch her ease out of her clothes, and she stands before
me fully naked.
oIT want you, Joe,� she says.
I say, oI want you, April.�
She climbs on top of me like a jockey on a racehorse. My heart beats fast.
oI'm old,� I say.
oTell me I'm a woman,� she says.
oI love you, woman,� I say. oI want you, woman.�
We find ourselves laughing. And she smiles at me for a moment of time I will never forget. The
warm gaze of her brown eyes. The coy smile of her lips. Her intelligence, honesty, integrity. Her sincerity
She eases me inside her. I feel a wave of pleasure unlike anything ITve ever felt in my entire life
oYou like,� she says, othis.�
I nod my head and push farther inside her. The bed squeaks. She leans into my chest. Her breasts
rub against my skin. She rises up and moves her hips back and forth, rocking on top of me. She is
very good at this, I realize. I sense my body and spirit as one. Oxygen pumps through my system
as |
at c
din
I gasp for air.
I turn her over, and I feel an intense flood of ecstasy wash over me.I am on top of her young
Dody, and the pleasure is indescribable. She moans.
oOh, my God, Joe! ITm coming!�
oWoman,� I say, oI love this!�
She reaches her hands around my waist, grabbing my buttocks, pulling me deeper inside her.
The bed rattles, her voice rises, she reaches a hand to her spot, and I thrust harder.
The pace increases. We enter another progression. My breathing is rapid. My heart pounds deep
Inside my chest.
oTell me when you're ready,� she says.
I look at her. She is gifted, masterful.
oReady for what,� I gasp.
She looks into my eyes. oYou'll know.�
I push faster, my hips moving up and down like a rapid seesaw.
I listen to our bodies with all my senses.
Pistons pounding. Steam building in pressure. I feel my spirit leaving my body.
April has another orgasm.
Her voice lets out a wavy oOoooohhh� that I realize she isnTt even aware of.
oWoman,� I say, oITm ready. I am " r-r-ready!�
The sounds coming from her are carnivorous, animalistic " we take each other all the way. And
everything ITve ever wanted to be comes true in a blinding flash of euphoria. Planets align. The
universe expands. A deep explosive grunt rises from my chest, and I howl. I literally howl. Like a
coyote. April arches her back and reaches another orgasm.
oOwooolll!!!� I howl.
The sensation is absolutely the most extraordinary sensation ever conceivable, and I prolong it
as long as I can. I feel huge inside her. Her face flushes red with color. Her body rocks involuntarily
at one second intervals, her breathing quick with each wave, muscles deep inside her pulsing, grip-
ding " ecstasy washing over her body.
And we collapse into each other's arms. Our chests heave together gasping for air. Wave after
Wave of euphoria washes over us. We hold each other.
It is some time before I realize I am not dead. I am alive. And I chuckle. I realize that I am chuckling.
oWhat?� April says.
oI'm not going to die,� I say.
She kisses me. We hold each other. The feeling blends into one of contentment " complete
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. Th
: \
26 and pure contentment. . wr
: bad \ \
ry We say nothing for what must be a very long time. We listen , \ fart!
. . mn , \ ;
to each other's breathing. I kiss her cheek. I kiss her hair. I kiss + \' : : Tt
. ¥ a. : n s
her lips. And I lie there inside her for along while. She doesnT#}~ whe
~ \ .
oW
want me to go, she says. We stay together fora long while.
After some time she looks at me and says with conviction, oI . :
XY :
won't let you die, Joe. Ever. You realize that.� As much a state-
ment as a question. .
And I do. I realize we are in love. ~ a Weer
Having dreamed of the sky, I wake with the sun. Apri in a o T
~ es - \ . ;
sleeping beneath. warm blankets. I rise and take my coffee on *» . gen
~ Sai ~* .
the balcony vehere a breeze gently flaps my robe in the cool \ , hea
; ° YF > i is
morning air. The sun rises over a range of mountains south of _ . S
the city and everything is aglow and fresh and glittering in the me;
early morning sunlight. FY
In the streets, twenty-three floors below, cars move from one I
block to the next. A taxi driver honks his horn at an apartment Ap:
building three blocks up. The sound rises up to the balcony, here, 7
at a distance. Across the street from the cab, I watch a man place Pec
change in a newspaper rack and retrieve a paper. He appears to have some sort of breakfast sand- i
wich in one hand. He looks at the paper, walks towards the street +
corner, and takes a bite of the sandwich.
I sip my coffee. The steam wafts on the breeze, and I turn to look inside. April looks peaceful, ha
resting completely. I feel alive. And I feel " peculiarly " that ITve arrived. That ITve arrived some- yo
where I wasn't expecting but that ITm so grateful to have found. +
It is several weeks later that we are invited to a high-altitude pool party. The hosts are friends |
whom we met up at MickTs. The party is the only one of its kind east of the Mississippi, for there to,
are few homes much higher than 6,000 feet in the east, and fewer still with a figure-eight swimming pool. Ar
The concrete patio surrounding the pool offers long range views and as I recline there in the late a
July sunshine, I find myself drifting between earth and sky, between wake and sleep.
I open my eyes to see April leaning over me. She kisses me on the lips. Pe
oNot sleeping are you?� she says. as
th
oResting,� I say. oMy eyes. Resting.�
I manage a smile.
There are young people on the hickory colored deck, overlooking the patio and pool, the green 27
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# lawn, the sea of mountains lying around us in every direction " the views are amazing " easily
. farther than a hundred miles. We are up in the sky.
The young people hold glasses of amber beer, and they laugh and touch each otherTs shoulders
When they talk. They have spirit, these young people.
oWould you like to dance?� April asks me.
I look at her. Her brown eyes are spirited and pleasant. Her smile is intelligent.
I say, oI'd love to.�
Music plays from inconspicuous speakers on the deck, and I rise and begin thrusting my pelvis
to the funky beat.
"sa
ae
x
~
\
ThereTs a conga line starting inside the house. I ease my body up close to April's and she sways
2. gently to the music. We dance close to one another, then she eases away, her arms rising above her
head, her hands clapping to the rhythm.
She looks at my aged body. oYou're getting jiggy with it,� she says, which I understand her to
mean ITm enjoying myself. She canTt help but smile.
oYou know I love you, Joe,� she says.
I smile and clap my hands to the rhythm. I am getting jiggy with it. I sway my hips to the beat.
April pulls up close to me, once more, our bodies joined by the music.
The conga line comes out of the sliding glass door of the house, onto the deck, where a few new
People attach. April looks at me with a grin, and slowly eases away once More.
The young men shout and the young women laugh and everyone smiles. The line makes its
Way across the deck, onto the patio. I realize they're coming my way.
The young woman leading the line points to me. The line sways to one side, then everyone's
hands spin, clap, and the line rhythmically sways to the other side. ItTs like a funky, disco train. The
young lady grins at me, and the young people begin shouting, whooping, and hollering. I realize they
Want me to join the line.
I shake my pelvis back and forth as the line comes towards me. They begin shouting in cadence
together, oGrandpa! Grandpa! Grandpa!� The young lady points for me to take the lead and I blow
April a kiss and she stands there shaking her head, a wide grin on her face. I meet up with the line,
and the young lady takes my hips in her hands.
We all move to one side then the other. We all dance together. We all dance onward. I thrust my
Pelvis back and forth to the rhythm of the music and raise the palms of my hands above my head
as though pushing upward, as though pushing upward an invisible weight " as though pushing
the envelope that is the clear, blue sky.
There is a knotted up
feeling lurking deep
inside my cavernous self
Its threads almost shredding
Holding on to its last fiber
So tightly twisted
So close to breaking
There is a struggle between
the strength of its sinewy bearings
DESIRE-HONORABLE MENTION POETRY
and my built-up need for release
There is a bubble
filled with dreams
of all the things
| have yet
to experience
Anxiously awaiting
a more fulfilling life
The bubbles glassy outer shell
is a surface In motion
Flowing in circles
Poem by Brittany sondbele
Becoming thinner Illustration by James Hart?
So close to bursting
An event that will revolutionize
the very course
| am traveling
Its smooth consistent
lithosphere
will soon pop
Exploding with an array
of all the desires
a tiny body
in the yolk of youth
can bear
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The greater moon sat full and ominous in the clear desert sky,
bathing the labyrinth of canyons below in a pale, bluish light. Its
smaller, brownish sister hovered not far away, casting no light of
her own, yet enhancing the larger of the pair by a significant con-
trast. One was the purest shade of silver, the other a color
of dried blood.
A man watched the journey of the moons from a narrow win-
dow in a tall rock pillar. He was dressed in the layers of robes that
befit a desert traveler, long, loose, with various shades of brown so
as to blend with the terrain. On his hip hung a wicked but plain
looking sword. A white silken scarf clung tightly around his face,
the end of which fluttered in the gentle chill desert breeze. An
incoherent pattern of dark stains decorated the scarfTs flailing end.
Faure re hat
men
; m
Piercing blue eyes stared sadly at the sister moons FO fo
the shrouded face. iven
ff
jver
The Sisters of Heaven they were called. The large, silve he |
. ton, Te
being paradise, and itTs smaller darker sister, perdition. " sigh
ri
of Saeleth supposedly carried souls of the dead up to ther ert
nd if
was there they spent eternity, either reveling or sufferind enc
lives they had led. fou
st?
And when the Sisters were this close, it is said that the lo nd |
one have opportunity to redeem and go to the other. fac
Redemption, however, was not easy. cou
ul
The man wondered where his unfortunate soul W? 9a}
find its destination. ~on
f
Not that he believed in the old, simple religions anymore
saciid ne i te a OS EIT EOI TE LER TE LE A SO A CIIGAL LILLIA IDE DDL a oe PO est a a re Ee
a eS
ments like these that his faith came back to him, shaking the wooden trunk, which sat at the end of the bed. Various materials
from foundations of his conscience. He knew there was no-set fell from around the closed lid as if the bulky chest had attempted to
Wven.and Hell. swallow the girlTs clothes in one mighty gulp. The top of the lid was
vert he had seen so much that made him wish otherwise. being used as a form of table, and it was littered with various shades
Mighed and wrapped his robes more tightly about him. The cold of makeup and styles of brushes and combs. A smooth bronze mir-
nem at wind whistled past the window and toyed some more with ror lay at an angle, catching an invading ray of moonlight and
ing end of his scarf. tossing up on the ceiling like a silver puddle of water.
fou are still here, old man,� he whispered to himself. At the And in the middle of this collection of female trappings sat a squat
105 of his voice, a girl tossed in her sleep on the bed behind him. stone statue of a maniacal looking demon. It was roughly the length
~face had turned towards the window, and in the pale moonlight of a manTs hand and made of material so dark that its features were
sould see that her beautiful native desert features were contorted almost lost despite the moonlight. It had four arms, each one pro-
woul, a look of confused horror. truding straight out from the body and pointing in four set direc-
-only other furniture in the modest-sized room was a large, beaten tions. In each hand it carried a miniature instrument; a nail, a sickle,
f
ore:
a bronze mirror, and a cup. Above its arms sat a multi-toothed gibbering mouth from which a black
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tongue curled out just past the lips. Its eyes were squinted and stared with loathsome glee as if into the
depths of nothingness.
The menacing little gargoyle glared directly at the sleeping girl.
The shrouded man stood by the hand-chiseled window and studied the impish statue, the latter of which
continued to stare unmoving at the girl. Every now and again, she would toss in her sleep and whimper
pitifully, as if chased by some unseen horror.
Silent as a shadow, the shrouded man glided to where the troubled girl slept and began to gently stroke
her head, his eyes looking down on her with pity. Her face loosened its expression and a faint smile
touched her lips. She nuzzled up against his hand.
He looked pleading at the statue.
Xs .
It stared at the girl unwavering.
Is s
The man took a long, curved dagger from the inT!
The man took a long, curved dagger from the inside of his sleeve and placed it against her soft, tan throat.
He had arrived at the outpost at a little before sundown by way of a faintly recognizable road, which
was the only conceivable passage through the virtual maze of valleys and canyons that made up the
great Northern border of the Shnanspah Desert. The path snaked around various twists and turns
through the high rock walls, and one could easily fall off the path and lose their bearings if it were not for
a few crude wooden signs placed at irregular intervals.
It was one of these signs that pointed him toa towering rock spire. A single column of wind-smoothed
stone stood some hundred feet straight in the middle of a modestly large valley. A row of wi
cut around the naturally occurring tower, and a large cave-like entrance opened out at the va
sign indicating the formation was faded and unreadable, but the man could make out anol
directly over the bottom entrance. Half of the board was broken off, but the other clearly spl
ae
~MisgivingT across itTs rotted surface.
The man shuffled in his robes and pulled out a plain wooden box with a simple leather sho
; ri
He flicked the latch on the lid and peered inside. After some repeated glances from the col
Y
| to
the box, he was satisfied enough to put the box back away in his robes and continue on
A
gaping entranceway.
f
a
He thought the place was abandoned at first and was about to consult the box again when
kt al!
inside the column caught his attention. Stepping forward cautiously, he peered into the sh
é; A
As his eyes adjusted, he saw that what once was a cave had been made into a crude corral
in?
wood fence encompassed most of the inside of the round room, leaving a narrow path ag@
4
left side of the wall that lead all the way to the back. The path ended 35
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at a raised wooden porch littered with barrels of various sizes. A
large set of double doors was barely visible behind the barrels and
was the only other way in or out of the makeshift stable.
The noise he had heard came from two ragged looking chirturees
locked up in the corral. The giant rodents were the favorite method
of transportation for most of the Empire and desert dwellers in par-
ticular. Essentially giant rats, chirturees were intelligent noble
creatures that were just as useful as they were expensive.
These, however, were old and feeble. Their spotted black and brown
fur was reduced to various shades of gray and they moved with the
is sleeve and placed it against her soft, tan throat.
slowness of severe joint pain. They stayed in the center of the corral, huddled together as if in fear of
what lay past their fence.
They stared at the stranger with near blind eyes, chirping to each other weakly about the appearance
of the man.
A dusty, tanned boy burst out of the double doors in the back of the room and leapt nimbly off the porch
and over the fence. He was halfway across the pen before he noticed the shrouded man and skidded on
the sandy floor to a comical abrupt halt, his mouth agape. They stood there for awhile regarding each
PA other, and then the boy began to ease defensively in front of the dilapidated chirturees.
w
a oI seek a place to stay,� the shrouded man said as the boy got between him and the giant rodents. oIs this
'
a lodging?�
othe vou
oft The stable boy didnTt respond, but stared at the visible hilt of his sword with hungry eyes. The shrouded
man could practically see the flights of fancy the boy was conjuring up in his mind. Stories of bravery
and heroes, villains and monsters, gold and maidens. The youthful lust for adventure that the man could
very well remember himself.
out
of Typical boy.
a if he only knew the truth of it.
E if oIs this a lodging, boy, or should | be on my way?� the man asked again, a note of agitation in his voice.
| J Nodding, the boy pointed to the double doors in the back of the room. He stared after the man as he
/ made his way across the stable, up the porch, and out of the room.
al.
The double doors led into a smaller natural chamber. This one, however, was made up to look like a
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�,�sentable bar. The rough brown stone walls were leveled perpendicular to the wooden floor. Niches
atved into the walls held candles of varying lengths, each one shedding what feeble light it could into
@ shadowy room. Tables and chairs were scattered about the room like various islands unto them-
ves, each one witha thin layer of dust on top. A staircase curved up the right side of the round room,
ading to an overhanging balcony. Doors branched off from the balcony at regular intervals in a fashion
at promised nothing but lodging.
it had been months before he had slept in a real bed, and just the thought of it made him almost
ckle with exhaustion.
ipi ly at the bar. He
large red-faced bartender stood regarding him from across the room, wiping vaguely
brayed guttural
@cked an eyebrow in curiosity, then slammed his open palm down on the bar and brayed g
imeTs runninT ouT in
Baugh. oComTon, lad! Yeh bedder grab yerself up a stool fer dey crumble teh dust. Time's
r
eregarded his soupy ale and said,
am ona pilgrimage.
.
ais place, bedder enjoy it while you can!�
© shrouded man made his way through the maze of tables and sat
20Wn directly across from the bartender. He pulled off his hood and
BOsened his robes a bit, but left the scarf tied tightly around his face.
The bartender slid over a mug full of thick brown ale and pro-
�,�ded to tidy up the various dusty bottles and barrels that lined
me back of the bar while he whistled some lively tune completely off
y. The shrouded man recognized it vaguely as ~The Scullery Maid
fF Cardelston MocT.
It had been ages since he last heard that song.
Turning and grinning at him curiously, the bartender chuckled,
B, WhaT brings ye teh GahltonTs MisgivinT?�
© shrouded man recognized the bartenderTs accent as outer terri-
py, 2 speech as lazy as its people. He regarded his soupy ale and
Id,olamona pilgrimage.�
�,� bartender grinned, oI see. So, yeh seekinT teh gain somefin ye
©*, Or loss somefin yeh gaint?�
rebel
cc
eo eee ee a ee ee ee mame
oBoth.�
Chuckling, the bartender began to wipe down the counter. oAn whaT
makes yeh fhink yeh fint it ~ere, eh?�
The man raised his scarf enough to get the mug to his lips and the
bartender tried to sneak a quick look at his face. The shrouded man
recoiled from this blatant attempt and turned so his face was hid-
den by shadow. He heard the bartender make an agitated noise as
he sipped his thick brew. It tasted vaguely of spices.
He could feel the bartender regarding him skeptically,
He decided to change the subject.
~Who is Galton?� he asked, setting the mug back on the bar.
oOur foundinT fadder, olT Gahlton Pacet,� grinned the plump bar-
tender, oSee now, desT place was a milTtery ouTposT abouT tuwny years
back. Den de olT Empire ~cided dere twonTt no use defenden a maze
oT canyuns anT wortTless desert. Gahlton boughT de righTs to eh
cheap, anT ~cided ter set up an inn fer wunderers and pilgimTs such as
yerself. OnTy prablem doe, donTt no body come owT dis far fer no rea-
son, er fer any reason fer dat madder. OlT Gahlton lost et all on dis
~ere place. Hung hemself back down in de celler,� he jerked his
thumb over his shoulder.
oSo why are you still here?�
The bartender shrugged, oSomebodies gotta hang arounT teh tell dat
story. ~sides, deh girls like it out ~ere. Es quiet anT nobody bodders
um. Coarse, etTs kinda ruf on bidness too!� He laughed and the
shrouded man noticed for the first time a small group of women
that had appeared at the balcony. Each one was staring down at
him with mixed interest and distrust. He nodded to them politely
and they simply stared back unmoving.
oMosT our customers prefer us dis fah out. DonT wanT the attracT much
attenshun, if yeh know whaT | meen.�
The shrouded man nodded. He liked to travel that way himself. It
made his life much easier.
oYeh ~ungry?� the bartender asked as he started dusting the ancient bot-
The shrouded man
recoiled from this
blatant attempt and
Son the
y
>murm
i barte
�,�smeai
turned so his face wa"
hidden by shadow.
" =
ae ee ee ee ee ee
ancing
scowl! s
feing th
nN tono
VanT as
7�,� man
~ached
ipped c
atue a
Ts on the rack behind him.
39
a
rebel
=murmured a negative sound and immersed himself back in his mug of ale.
ie bartender turned and studied him for a moment, trying to see around the white scarf. He noticed
�,� smear of red at its free hanging end.
Sem yeh ~ad an axsedent dereT, my frienT,� he commented, pointing to the stain.
ancing down over his mug, the shrouded man replied, oNo. It was intentional.�
Scowl stretched across the bartenderTs round face. He began to wipe at the bar in an agitated manner,
leing the man across from him suspiciously. oYeh seem the have a smarT whey abouT yeh, pilgim. | donT
nN to nobody comeTn up en mih plase so secretiv. WhaT brout yeh ouT ~ere teh GahltonTs, man. No reddles,
VanT a straight anser.�
#�,� man matched his gaze, cold blue eyes staring into the otherTs piggy brown. After a moment he
ached nonchalantly into his robes, unslung the shoulder strap and pulled out the wooden box. He
ped open the lid and the bartender recoiled in horror as the shrouded man lifted out the grotesque
atue and placed it down on the bar. Gasps and whisperings broke out from the balcony over their
heads. The shrouded man went nonchalantly back to his ale.
oWear en Sephtrus Abyss did yeh get dat tang?� the bartender whispered, his eyes wide and focused on
the grinning little imp. it stared directly back at him, arms pointing to four separate corners.
o| canTt even remember anymore,� the shrouded man said, nursing his thick ale and grimacing inwardly at
the taste. oItTs helped me on my trip so far. | quess you could say heTs my little guide to salvation.� The
shrouded man stared intently at the bartender, the latter of which didnTt move from his spot, his eyes
glued to the statue. Even the women on the balcony were leaning over the railing, staring down at the
gruesome figure with wide eyes and open mouths.
The shrouded man leaned closer to the bartender.
oDo you recogni-"
oGet dat damned tang off mi bar!� the bartender shouted and flung his washrag over it as he stepped
back in revulsion. Screams erupted overhead, and the shrouded man leapt off the stool, hand flying to
the hilt of his sword.
The bartender stiffened and paled. oEasy now, lad,� he whispered, wringing the free end of his apron
with his trembling hands. He kept his back to the rack of bottles, eyes wide and alert. oDereTs no neeT to
use dat fhing. JusT wanT dat off mTbar, is all. Isa damnTd sight, an itTs scarinT de ladies.�
The shrouded man cast a quick glance at the balcony where the women had clustered together in a
tight group, then slowly eased his hand away from his sword. He walked over to the bar and placed the
statue back in its box, then concealed it back in his robes.
Approaching cautiously, the bartender showed an apologizing smile. oCome-on now, yeh don't need
>
aN MR RN BOIS OTR ne ~ somfin dat damned ugly the keep yeh compTny. Pick any uf!
ladies up dere. DeyTd be glad the spare yeh a moment ov de
A wundernT man like yehsefT, yeh couTd use a lilT compTny�
| x, hiatal denela mien BPS. 2:5" REA. is " | The shrouded man began to look over all the girls lined up®
t
hs BK
the banister. There were about ten in all. Most were oldet,
beauty falling away into the lines forming on their faces. or
still had a touch of youth to them, but they all looked used#
His eyes rested on the shortest of these four girls and he ma!
how old someone this young could appear. Sad, soft brow" A (
watched him out of her deeply tanned face, and her hair, oh 4
than ebony, hung long down her back in a serious of intrical
= -
oewans 2 ee eee
She was truly a beautiful sight to be seen this far out into oQO}
Yet, she looked so familiar in her sad way, he felt compellel-
and recognize her for whom she could possibly be.
_ = "
Keene 2 ee
She nodded down at him wearily and it was only then that! H
ized that he had been staring at her for quite some time. sh
descended the staircase at the side of the room and made!"
across the floor to his side.
The shrouded man started to apologize and turn her away, bi
quickly lost his breath as she approached. It was clear she we
afraid of him as the other women on the balcony, and she walt
a confident step that he admired immensely. She was much more beautiful than he had realizedT
was soon caught up in her dark eyes.
How long had it been since he had stared this deeply into a womanTs eyes?
The bartender grinned, oDat dereTs Elispeh. YoungesT in deh ~ouse. SheTs quiT a ride fer a walker lik
self.� He formed his chubby red face into a revolting wink.
| The shrouded man laid a handful of gold Imperial coins on the bar and turned to face the girl 4° :
| tender sighed contentedly.
oDis ~eres ~nuff to set you up fer life!� The bartender excitedly swept the money off the bar and insh
in the dim candlelight.
The girl looked up and took him by the arm. oWhaTs yer name?�
oDoes it matter?�
She shrugged and led him up the stained wooden stairs. They passed by the other women and pm
.
;
' "
" i
uff into an unmarked room at the end of the balcony. 4)
y dé Once inside, she tried to take off his scarf. He stopped her abruptly. 2
y She shrugged and moved on to the rest of his clothes. He watched
up4 her intently, studying every move she made and loving her for it. As
er, she led him to the bed he wondered why he was so enraptured by
or this simple girl he had just met. He hadn't felt emotions this strong
edd in so many years he thought he had purged them from his body.
Now they were back with the extra
maT
oA cooling desert breeze chilled Cn
7 hi S body from th e open WI nN dow. A cooling desert breeze chilled his
Bice they Same eS
led tri ed to take hi S scart off ag qin ~ tried to take his scarf off again. He
gently led her hands away. She
«!He gently led her hands away.
| kissed his eyes closed and whispered,
. Sh
oWhy yeh got to hide from meh?�
ie he
The sound of her accent brought
him back from the depth of his
bi
ay;
emotions. He softly caressed her braided hair. oITm trying to protect
e We
you,� he smiled.
| walt
| The growing moonlight in the room showed the corner of her mouth
ized
raise in a beautiful grin. oI cahn takT care uv miself.� Her braids
ticked softly against his chest.
He looked at her sadly and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes
or lilt
and nuzzled his open hand.
: o1�,� that were only true,� he thought as he pulled her close to him.
{
r| as
He hadnTt been with a woman in many years.
Elispeh reminded him how much he had missed it.
| ins?
She lay curled up against his naked body and toyed with the end
of his scarf while she told him her life story. How she had ran away
from home less than five years ago to join a traveling carnival. The
carnival had been shut down a year later, and she drifted from town
d pie
to town until she found a room in ~GaltonTs MisgivingT.
..
aaa
The man was intrigued with the carnival, but when he questioned
42
her more about it, she simply shook her head and refused to speak.
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Eht was harsh,� she finally whispered. oI try teh fergit abouT it.�
She fell asleep with her head on his chest, and he lay awake long
afterwards, watching her sleep and trying to remember the last
woman he had slept with. He thought of her now as only a dim
shadow on the edge of his conscience, a face shrouded by shadow. A
face he had lost when his own carnival had arrived. His memories
coagulated into a haze, and before long he was asleep as well.
And he dreamed.
He dreamed of a short caravan, winding itself through the tall
oaks, sliding into a quiet unsuspecting town. The carriages were
drawn by yoked men so hideously treated they were little more
than scarred, walking skeletons. Their old heads bobbed to and
fro, completely apart from the lively music they carried behind
them. All around them danced young boys and girls, poking at the
unfortunate slaves with barbed sticks and laughing all the while.
They ran to the spectators on the side of the road and encour-
aged them in the game, laughing harder as the frightened people
shrank back in terror. More men and women came out of their
houses to look at the odd parade, shaking their heads in revulsion
and going back indoors. At least five carts in all began to take up
. . . nN,
the main road through town, each one with itTs own mad sadistic carnival encouraging others to play wl
Son |
their twisted games.
de k
He saw a man in bright red robes riding foremost on the carriages. The man was tall and thin, with a
ided
stone face that watched his capering band with fatherly affection. He was bald except for a few strands
held
of whispery white hair that fell across his neck and shoulder like cobwebs. He smiled at the dancers, but
> swi
watched the crowd, his black eyes flitting from one bystander to the next.
thed
The children of the town began to appear and dance and play with the caravan. They laughed and sang
rson
until their parents wrenched them away, scolding and slapping
lins
The black eyes flew from face to face.
Ning
More children appeared, and the man recognized one of his own two daughters among them.
2 bo
oItTs not right,� he screamed at her. oThis is wicked! You donTt know what you're doing. You shall be
> Cri
made to pay!� He tried to shout her name, but all that came out was incoherent babble. Then he tried to
run into the street and carry her away, but he couldnTt move from the spot.
The eyes continued to search, growing closer.
His other daughter was out there now, and his only son. All of the townTs children had come back out;
their parents left powerless bystanders. The music had quickened in intensity and the playful pokes at
the wasted men turned to merciless stabbing. Blood sprayed children and revelers alike as they brutally
massacred the men in the middle of the street.
He screamed again, but no noise came out.
One of the shriveled slaves turned to look at him, its tongueless mouth hung loose and the man recoiled
in horror as he recognized his own face. He looked up and saw the bald robed man grinning down on
him with his slitted black eyes.
Then all was dark. He heard the voice of his wife pleading from close by and he dimly realized that a
burlap sack covered his head. His arms were tied harshly behind his back, and he his legs were crossed
and bound underneath him. His wifeTs voice rose into a crescendo of hysteria, and the cloth was ripped
violently from his head.
He saw her arms twisted above her head and nailed to the rock wall,. She violently shook her head
about, her tight shoulder-length braids whipping the rock behind her in minute ticking sounds. One of
the revelers was raping her prostrate body. The boy turned around to face the man.
it was his own son.
He grinned at his father. A horrible mask of hatred and emptiness.
He shrieked at his boy and tried to burst his bonds, but he was tied securely. His son continued to leer
at him as he raped his screaming mother.
The robed leader of the caravan walked into the room and watched the gruesome spectacle contentedly.
NT, wh , ,
en the boy had finished, the crimson man handed him a package wrapped in white silk.
50n b :
�,�gan to unwrap the package as the robed man chanted. inside the cloth were three objects, a
~le knif ~
ife, a mirror, and a cup. The boy looked to the robed man for support and then he in turn
ided hi
S consent. Then the boy turned leering to his mother.
held the mj
�,� mirror before his motherTs terrified face as his father bellowed behind him in realization. !n
> Swift m
ovement, he used the sickle knife to slit her open from crotch to breasts. She coughed and
shed, tryi
ying to pull her body away from the wicked steel.
son ch
uckled and shoved the cup into her open torso. She shrieked wetly and twitched as he held it
| side
her convulsing body. When she had stopped moving, he slowly pulled it back out, blood
ling Ov , a
er its rim and pattering like rain on the stone floor.
> bound
man screamed at the scene with powerful fury. No one paid him any heed.
> Crims :
on man dipped his finger into the cupful of blood and spoke a long indistinguishable phrase as
rebel
eyes, then put the cup to his lips, drinking the gore down greedily. Sk
Grinning down at the bound man, the crimson man barked a
i short command. f
His oldest daughter came into the room and immediately proceeded
| 44 he wrote a symbol on the boyTs forehead. The boy closed his
to slash at his face with her fingernails. Gouging and ripping while
she laughed and spit on him. Hands that he had once held and com-
| forted now tried to rip off his very flesh. He screamed and tried to
' wrench his head away from her, but she was everywhere he turned.
The crimson man watched approvingly as his daughter shredded his
| face with her hands, leaving his eyes for the final act.
Then she triumphantly seized the mirror and sickle knife, but was
stopped by the crimson-robed man.
oNo my dear, we need him to pull for us. We shall cut out his
tongue on the morrow.� He cast a quick glance at the tied man and
aa
the hanging mess of his wife. oHe misses your mother, child. Allow
him one more moment with her.� With that, the man dipped the
end of the white scarf into the bloody pool under his wifeTs corpse
han
3 and handed it to his daughter. hee]
j She shoved the entire length of it into his mouth. that
: He gagged and shook, trying to spit out the warm sticky fabric, heig
despite his daughter holding her hand over his mouth. Then she follc
recovered his head with the burlap sack and laughed as he began to fina
suffocate in the darkness. He «
] Oo oO He awoke in terror grasping blindly for his sword as the sheets clung wetly to his body. It wa ohits
nightmare. One that he had already endured. If he
] O O In the cold room, his memory forced the rest of the story to him. He
His youngest daughter had had pity on him, and set him free while another sacrifice was being Lea
| ] Oo O And in turn, he had freed her with his bare hands. He had wept and fled blindly through the wo sw
| days until an old widow found him lying face down in a stream. She healed his face as best she obo»
j Gg 0 and a year later regrettably sent him on his way. He told her that he had to release his othe? twHe
| dren, and she sadly agreed. got
| | ] 0 0 He followed the cult after that, one day blurring into the next. It already had a year head start apa
| | ; no
| and had grown more powerful and numerous. Nevertheless, he followed every possible lead 4
i: see. 4
The knife sank into the first layer of
skin and asmall line of blood
appeared on the ashen skin.
for the twisted little statue spoke to its followers in a voice only they
could hear. And no matter where the closest member was, the impish
statue always faced them, whether they were in the next room, or
hundreds of miles away.
Placing the miniature monstrosity on the chest, he watched with
growing dread as it slowly turned its head to face the sleeping girl.
He tried again from the window and the door, each time the evil lit-
tle head turned to face the sleeping woman.
She had drunk from the cup.
handedi
y stopped every branch he came across. He was right on its She was one of them.
Reels ac ;
as
It advanced and grew into an awesome ferocious power And he had to set her free.
The knife sank into the first layer of skin and a small line of blood
that thre
atened the stability of the Empire itself. He pursued it to its
height
a
nd then at the beginning of its descent when its leaders and appeared on the ashen skin.
r
S were put down by the Imperial Armies. And now, in itTs He couldn't.
final Ww .
an : ao Pr ted ,
Ing days, he was closing in on the root of it all. He knew it. After all this time!� his mind screamed, oCountless lost by your hand!
Now, you dare believe in innocence! No other has ever earned your
He could
f .
eel it deep down. This personal crusade was wearing to
fl
yas Its conduc
usion and he was going to bear witness to its resolution. | mercy! Why now?! Why her?!�
�,� it that long. oPerhaps it is because | grow tired of this task,� he whispered, and the
nl o" ,
y wouldn't if he kept falling asleep in situations such as this. image of his eldest daughter slashing at his face swam up through
nn OL
ing o�,�aping out
ne wo Sword-belt
; about him. He felt around frantically for the wooden ized that he couldn't remember her face at all. All he saw was the
t she box, findi eae
Ing it just underneath the corner of the bed. face of Elispeh staring back with empty eyes.
her tWT He didnTt li
ie to the bartender; he really couldnTt remember wherehe _Thegirl gave a troubled sigh in her sleep. On the chest, the impish
got this ho ;
T . . .
rible little thing. One of the priests that he came across figure continued to stare at her, its horrendous maw gaping
had j
tart ® Mad it, he belli
elieved. It had certainly made following the cult easier, concealing a darkness deeper than any shadow.
ad "_""""""_
a eemaennparnt
�
See a |
t
ee a
Awa
46
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oItTs like the kiss of the undead,� his mind rationalized. oOnce
touched, she can never be free again. See how she winces in the
presence of the creature. She hears it whispering. ItTs inside her.
She shall only get worse with time. It is better to free her now.�
oDoes it really matter?� he asked no one in particular. The girl gave a
soft whimper beneath him.
oDamn your whimpering! Do it now before itTs too late!�
Covering her face with his left hand, he gritted his teeth and tight-
ened the grip on his knife.
He shut his eyes.
A minute step sounded in the wooden hall outside of his room. It
was soon followed by another, clumsy and loud in the still night.
The shrouded man listened as the steps eased closer to his door. He
rapidly sheathed the knife back in his sleeve and glided stealthily to
the other side of the bed. In one swift motion, he whipped off his
traveling robes and stuffed them lumpily under the sheets.
The latch on the door turned.
He eased into the darkened corner by the far side of the window, silent as a ghost. Sweat beaded on his
brow despite the chill night air. He remembered to check his breathing and fought against the old fear
of being discovered. It surged into his bones, harsher than any enemy, but as familiar as an old friend.
He readied himself.
The door opened slowly and two black-robed figures came into he room. The first was small in stature
and made most of the noise. Suddenly, the shrouded man realized that it was wearing boots. Boots ona
hardwood floor in the dead of night.
Foolish.
lt must be the stable boy.
He recognized the second wide, stocky form as that of the bartender.
They both crept as silently as possible across the floor to the bed. The bartender indicated to the form
beside the sleeping girl while he shuffled quietly to the chest. As he approached, the impish little head
turned to face him, and the large man paused for a second before continuing to his goal.
The boy pulled a sickle-like knife from his robe while the bartender gently scooped up the statue and
quickly walked softly across the room and out the door.
The girl sighed with faint relief.
Jan
Tip
im:
low
Mot
he |
Tail
he ;
lad
me
Tac
Nre)
Nit
tim
The
and
Nin
You
The
Wai
uny
Dlac
nt
pitt
aro
He
Gir]
like
nec
He
1�,� boy continued to stand by the bed, unmoving. He appeared to
= Studying the shape of the haphazardly packed robe, making the
fan in the corner sweat all the more. The boy didnTt seem very
Fight, yet he was watching the bed with such intensity that the
Yan didnTt want to give him any chance.
Mpping the hilt of his sword, the shrouded man readied
Imself to spring.
lowly, the boy began to reach for the covers.
Nother gentle breeze flowed in through the window and tossed
he bloody end of the scarf up into the moonlight, the shadow
Failing over the floor and across the bed.
through
he boy saw the fluttering shadow and dodged aside just as the shrouded manTs sword cleaved throug
he air where his head had just been. Spinning around quickly, the boy sank three inches of the curved
lade into the back of the manTs right thigh. The man gritted his teeth and twisted his face in pain. With
Me swift downward stroke he brought the butt of sword down across the boy's nose with an audible
Tacking sound. The boy stumbled back, holding his gushing face and whimpering while the man
Menched the sickle knife from the back of his leg.
Oth a smal cry, the boy turned to run from the room. Quick as lightening, the shrouded man lunged at
�"� and in one fluid motion severed the boyTs head from his shoulders.
irl to awake
Pe double thump of the head and body resounded loudly on the wooden floor, causing the gir! toa
: : by the
aNd sit bolt upright in the bed. The shrouded man quickly limped into another dark corner by
Pndow, biting his lip against the pain.
fOu're getting slow, old man.� his mind laughed as he clamped down harder on his lip.
me gin stared about the room for a few minutes, then settled cautiously back to bed. The shrouded man
Waited until he heard a steady rhythm to her breathing before he dared to move. He carefully
rapped the white scarf from his face and tied it tightly around his leg. The ghostly white fabrer
alackened out of sight.
B the Moonlight, his face shone like a deathTs head. Pale with the excess of scarring, lines crossed and
. Th lanced
Pitted his face making it an unrecognizable slab of flesh that only the eyes could penetrate. Tey 9
ofound the dim room quickly, waiting for another intruder to come in at any minute.
he sleepin
He limped across the blackening floor, ignoring the headless body and making his way to the sleeping
a his le
+ Sitting down on the bed beside her, he ground his teeth down again as fresh pain lanced up hs leg
ids f her
ike fire, The girl mumbled crudely and rolled away from him. He lovingly pushed the braids from
n .
ock. She stretched her hand up in her sleep and caressed his scarred face.
: | the
ie leaned forward and kissed her lovingly on the forehead. Then he placed his hands gently on
47
rebel
sides of her head.
48
oI'm sorry,� he whispered.
rebel
A loud crack resounded in the dim room.
The others were easy.
After he searched the landing and made sure none were left in
hiding, he carefully crept down to the bar area. He fe) hale &-Ms Cole)
behind the bar that led into the kitchen area and a door from there
that spiraled down to a cellar. The cellar was a small round room a
little bigger than ElispehTs room upstairs.
They memory of Elispeh caused a lump to form in his throat.
There at the far end of the room was the bartender, deep in some
religious ceremony incorporating the impish compass. Candles
burned in numerous niches as the bartender chanted and swayed
methodically before an altar covered in bones and scraps of flesh.
The bartender heard him walk into the room and called over wt
shoulder, oDid he scream much, laddy? | didnT ear much ov ee By | la e S Gide am liaial kale 5) | ad .
down ~ere. JusT hope yeh lefT some fer de table.� He chuckled as he «
arranged the familiar curved knife, mirror, nail, and cup on the
table before him.
The shrouded man silently unsheathed his sword as he ace)
across the room.
The bartender stopped and cocked his head to the side. oI's awfully quiTe up dere. Did yeh ~member to
ghet deh girls?�
"a
The bartender spun around just as the shrouded man buried his sword to the hilt in his side. He
shrieked and gurgled, then crumbled to his knees in a bloody hulk. The shrouded man planted a foot on
the manTs downturned face, and withdrew the sword. It slurped noisily as blood and entrails burst
slowly from the wound and spread over the rock floor
Exhausted, he leaned heavily against the gruesome altar, the blood from his leg dripping to mix with
the growing pool. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and wished once again for a better life.
Unfortunately, his fate was never going to be set in that favor. OT alil eR iol ae tile) tatty life and incon
spicuous death. He had made a blood oath far back in his hazy past, and it was the only thing that
supported him anymore
He picked the statue up and put it back in its case, scattering the remains of the altar as he did so. Then he
limped slowly out of the room.
Sunset again.
He had slept through the day outside the tower in a lean-to made from his robes and a few of the rotten
rebel
corral beams. Traveling in the desert was dangerous, but not as much so at night. And besides, walking
was considerably easier in this country once the blazing sun had set.
He tore down the lean-to and began to resituate his robes around himself.
After he had left the cellar, he found the storeroom of ale and other spirits and spread them around as
much of ~GaltonTsT as his leg would let him. Then, with a quick stop underneath the bar to reclaim his
money, and a little extra, from the bartenderTs old money chest, he casually tossed a lit candle onto the i
\
saturated floor. The alcohol and dry boards caught immediately and it wasnTt long before the entire cave
roared with fire.
e doors and hacked his way into the chirturee pen. They were
He quickly limped out the large doubl
ce and the now rapidly burning porch. They immediately began
frightened both by his horrid appearan
em. It was some time before he iH
eir aching joints would carry th
to scamper about the corral as fast as th
could round them up and lead them safely outside the burning cave.
He had watched the inn burn for most of the morning, then decided to sleep around midday. He threw
ther his lean-to and slept peacefully to the popping sound |
toge
of the fire.
He awoke to a dark red sky anda cooling breeze that carried the
last few trails of smoke out of the upper windows. To his surprise,
the chirturees had remained by his side while he slept.
They stared at him impassively now, every now and again sparing a
glance to the still smoldering brothel. The shrouded man limped
over to them and patted them both swiftly on the rump, indicating
they were free to find what life they chose.
They slowly turned and trudged back into the smoky cave. |
. :
oCreatures of habit,� he thought hopelessly as he checked his box
for bearings.
He turned and trudged down the dark lonely canyon into the
setting sun.
Thoughts capture like photographs
i've never taken
Never even seen
But i can feelandbe and live
Walking on roads
i've never traveled
But i can seeandfeelandbreathe
Capture the beauty
Only upstairs in my temple
Of wordsandphrases and photographs
That i've never taken
Ran out of film a long time ago
But i'm not broken
PHOTOS |TVE NEVER TAKEN-HONORABLE MENTION POETRY
See the blue and green
And the red and orange |
ninco | VE Never taken
Where no words can
Poem by Kat Fowler Re
Or ever will form around "
Illustration by Kat Fowler
The circles of geometry that ~
Encase my nature
Because it is mine
Feel the fire of the landscape
The cold of the tree in the field
The solitude of life as it
Pricks on the skin
The thoughts capture
Photographs and store
In the temple of my nature
Pieces are put together
And consumed in the circles of
Squares and cubes that
Are my nature
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The walls were blistered and peeling like a badly burned sunbather. In
sti
one corner, wooden palettes were stuffed with straw and stacked to :
n
i the ceiling. | felt the first drop of sweat slide down my nose as a �
| Y firefighter hooked my breathing apparatus to an oxygen tank. Fora ow
z2
2 moment, | couldnTt breathe. The rubber seal around my mask bit into n
: my face as | made a futile attempt to draw in air. ~
: Then, cool oxygen flooded my lungs with a hiss. | tried to remember ,
: to breathe calmly as Kinston Fire Chief Greg Smith motioned me to ~
&
3 stand in the corner opposite the straw. T
: As | turned and crouched, the tank strapped to my back struck the ~
| doorjamb with a loud clang. oT
| oQuit runninT into stuff, Losey,� Smith chastised me. oOK, light it!� ;
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Another firefighter ignited a small torch and crouched in front of the straw. He brushed the bale three
times with the blue flame and within seconds, the pyre was completely engulfed. Flames lapped out and
Started rolling across the ceiling, right above my head.
Smith struck up a conversation as we crouched. The fire crept around us but he seemed completely com-
fortable. He could have been sitting in a steam room, for all the concern he showed.
oWood canTt burn. ItTs a solid,� Smith said. oIf you look at a match, thereTs always a little space between the
flame and the wood. What burns is the vapors it lets off as the molecules get excited.�
As the chief gave his impromptu physics lesson, | wondered how much hotter the room was going to get. |
Was wearing exactly the same heavy equipment the firefighters had " a coat and pair of pants made
from a fire-resistant Kevlar blend, boots, hood, helmet and gloves " but | was beginning to feel the heat.
The fire had almost crossed the room. My thighs and shoulders started to feel as if they were being
Slowly scorched.
oThis ainTt even the worst of it,� Smith said. oWhen we turn the hoses on the fire, it creates steam, which is
much hotter than the actual flames. The steam could boil someoneTs skin off. We have to search the room
for people who are trapped inside before we put it out.�
The chief motioned to the firefighter standing in the doorway with the hose. oAll right, hit it,� he said.
The firefighter turned on the hose and quenched the flames with a highly pressured jet of water. Sure
enough, the steam left behind made the hot room almost unbearable. It floated in the air and enveloped us.
Smith pointed to the door. | followed him and the other firemen outside, past a fan that pulled smoke
from the building and into fresh air.
'had survived my first fire.
Trapped behind the flames
The Kinston Fire Department has been using houses condemned after the flood to provide real: :
Scenarios. Assistant Chief Bill Johnson said KinstonTs fire department is one of the few that still
training fires.
oAs devastating as it was, the flood has provided us the opportunity to train,� Johnson said. oYo ci
Sharp unless you are in the fire.�
Use them all for training. Sooner or later, Johnson said, firefighters will stop training and just burn whatever.� het ¢
houses are left.
~eh
Training is important because of the high risk firefighters face. Smith said about 100 firefighters across the ars ~
ve het
Nation die in the line of duty every year. Temperatures inside a burning building can reach from between
800 and 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit. Anything can happen.
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oWe've never had anybody seriously hurt in these training exercises,� Capt. Don Crawford said. oBut | heard about an assistant chief somewhere 55
"1Tm not sure where " who died during training. So we take it very seriously.� :
After leaving the house | took off my oxygen tank and coat to cool off. The firefighters stood on the porch by the front door. As soon as | sat
down on a tree root in the yard, Crawford motioned for me. | walked over, pulling on my equipment.
a ~Get behind him,� Crawford said, pointing to Fire Control Specialist Chad Rouse, the firefighter manning the hose. oStay close to him. And keep down.�
3
. oInto the dark
| squatted and looked through the front door. It was completely dark inside. | couldn't see it, but | knew a fire was burning in one of the back
: rooms. Smoke was starting to leak through the front door.
And then we wert, half bent over, running inside as fast as we could in cumbersome boots and with oxygen tanks strapped to our backs. As
Soon as we had taken a few steps inside, | lost sight of Rouse. | reached out and found the hose. The hose was my tether to the people who
Would keep me from becoming a cinder.
| stepped into a small hallway and suddenly | could see again. The room to my left was being eaten by orange flames.
They turned the walls into living, deadly things that reached out to grab Capt. Thomas Gay, who had run inside the room and was making a cir-
cle around the edge, through the fire. It burned parts of his helmet to ash. if it had been a real emergency, Gay would have been looking for
i People trapped inside the house.
4 Gay finished his search and ran by Rouse, who had stationed himself just outside the door to the room. By then, flames had taken control of the
f room and were making their way into the hallway around us. We were pinned in on three sides.
es Rouse opened his hose nozzle and doused the fire inside the room.
ad Flames sputtered and died under the force of the water. Then Rouse
oe
: | stepped into > Small turned and sprayed the ceiling above us and the wall behind us, extin-
3 guishing the flames that were mere feet away. As the water hit the
; ha lway a nd sudden ly fire, glowing embers rained down and we were left in darkness again.
% CO > The sweat running down my nose and into my eyes fogged my
~~ Could see again. The
7 faceplate. Smoke and steam swirled around us, bringing the visibility
, room to My left Was back down to zero.
| bei n eate n b ora Nn e oWhere's Losey?� one of the firefighters asked. oWhere is the news guy?�
5 y 5 For a moment, | didnTt hear him. | was trying to absorb what had just
fla mes. happened. But then | realized he was talking about me and | said,
oRight here.�
5s The firefighter walked over to me and | recognized him as Rouse.
: oYou OK?� he asked.
oYeah.�
a oYou see what went on in there?�
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| knew something was wrong when a
firefighter ran out of the door and
motioned for help.
| nodded.
oCapt. Gay was in there searching the room, but all of us outside were looking after him. We all made sure
he was okay. If he got into trouble, we would be in there to help get him out.� From behind his mask,
Rouse looked me right in the eye. oWe never leave one of our own behind.�
-Trapped by flames
| knew something was wrong when a firefighter ran out of the door and motioned for help. Two para-
medics rushed to the house with a stretcher and three other firefighters ran inside. Everyone else stopped
chatting and inched closer to the burning structure.
| was sitting out that burn and could sense the change. | took a few steps closer to try to figure out
what had happened.
Two firefighters appeared at the door, carrying one of their own between them. They laid him on the
stretcher and pulled his gear off.
He wasnTt moving.
Two firefighters tilted him to the left, and one paramedic strapped a neck brace on him. They wheeled him
to the ambulance, and instantly he was gone.
The injured firefighter was Capt. Ernie Davis. He was inside when the ceiling fell in, twisting his lower back.
Fortunately, his injury wasnTt serious. Davis was treated and released from Lenoir Memorial Hospital
that same day.
After Davis was taken away, some of the firefighters removed their gear and sat in the street. Gay walked
over to a fire truck, turned on the water and washed his head. He sat with the rest of the firefighters.
Gay pulled a comb from his pocket and pulled it back through his hair a few times.
oStyling already,� said Capt. Kevin Scully. He ran a hand over his clean-shaven skull and asked Gay, oCould |
see that?�
We all laughed. The tension broke. Scully took a long drink from a jug of water.
oLooks like | lied to you before,� Crawford said. oAbout not having people get hurt. It can happen, as you saw.�
oyg?
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oItTs like a boxing match,� Gay said. oThey'll stop it before it gets too
dangerous, but thereTs still a risk.�
Rouse nodded. oRemember what | was telling you back there, about
how we never leave someone? You didnTt go in that last time, but
when we heard there was a firefighter down, we went straight to
him. Forget that house. ItTs not worth losing one of our brothers.�
oBut what if there was both a firefighter and a civilian trapped inside?�
| asked. oWhat if it came down to choosing between the civilian and
the firefighter?�
oWe would try to get both of them out,� Gay said. oNo " we would
get both of them out.�
-Exhausted but exhilarated
The firefighters decided to get some dinner before resuming their train-
ing. | climbed into the fire truck with Gay and Rouse and we drove to
get some fast food.
As we stood in line for our food, Rouse told me about a time he was
training in a house with several stories. The hose was fed through a
window on the top floor and the fire was set in the basement. Rouse
had to fight his way down the stairs to reach the fire.
But the staircase acted as a chimney, Rouse said, and funneled all the
heat directly at him. The straps on his oxygen tank burned off his shoul-
ders and Rouse had to tug the tank behind him as he fought the fire.
ollike my job,� Rouse said. oI get to come to work and be a hero. | get
to save a kidTs life.�
| could understand what he was talking about. My shirt was soaked
in sweat, smoke streaked my face, my hair was tangled and | was
completely exhausted. But | also felt exhilarated. | had been in the
middle of a burning building and had come out unscathed. And when
the cashier served me my soda, it tasted like the coldest thing | had
�,�ver tasted.
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My dead-weight toes pushed against the insides of their green rubber wading boots to reaffirm their exis-
tence. They disappeared beneath the chilled, stagnant water on the porch steps as | tugged at my gloves
and watched my breath hang in the air like icicles on a gutter. My ears were stung with cold.
The canoe bumped gently against the posts under the house as | slowly stepped in and pushed off
against the steps with the edge of my oar. In the midst of constant chatter from displaced frogs and crickets,
| slid the oar into the water and pushed it behind me as the knees on my jeans soaked up a puddle through
the old pink towel on the floor. In front of me the river trickled around the bow; behind me the roar
increased steadily as it neared the fattened Neuse. Although the house had power, the streetlights were
Out, so everything reflected light from patches of half-moon that winked from between clouds.
The paddle scraped asphalt as the canoe passed over the street. | beached it against the neighbor's
mushy lawn and tied it to a tree with a rough yellow rope attached to the bow. | grabbed a plastic bag and
my black leather purse from the stern and trudged through wet leaves in back yards until | reached dry
street next to my maroon Saturn. | removed my boots in favor of black leather mules from
the plastic bag.
The heat that blasted from open vents after | turned on the engine sent a ripple of icy goose bumps
down my body as | pulled a three-point-turn in the street and headed for Luna's.
As | approached town, the streetlights lit up and dropped in succession a photo on my dashboard. It was
turned around so | could see the reflection in the windshield. The picture showed a tall, young brunette
Man with a rough goatee with me on his shoulders. Both of us were falling backwards, huge grins on our
oe
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faces and the oil filter wrench we'd been reaching for firmly in the grasp of my upraised right hand. The pic-
ture was about two years old. | smiled at the memory, then sighed as | remembered why | had to leave the
house at one in the morning.
| flashed my ID at the bored-looking guy in the doorway as | brushed past him into the bar. The smell of
bread sticks and marinara mixed with beer and liquor in the air. Girls in tight black pants and tiny white T-
shirts laughed at unfunny jokes from well-built guys with ken-doll hair while an old, greasy man followed
downstairs into the pool room the only pretty girl drunk enough to listen to him. The Rolling Stones
blasted over any intelligent conversation that might have sneaked its way into the place while a bunch of
frat boys cheered one of their friends on as he downed a BartenderTs Special before tumbling off the stool
and taking three others with him. | weaved my way unnoticed through them all.
| flagged down the bartender, a tall, muscular guy with an expression of amused disapproval perma-
nently planted on his face. He waved, filled up a beer, and walked over.
oHey, Sarah,� he said. oCan | get you something?�
oYeah, Matt. Get me a Pepsi.� | watched the drunk frat boy stumble over the fallen stools and reset his
position at the bar. oLooks like cut-off time for that guy,� | said.
oNah. ItTs his twenty-first. And theyTre walking home, anyway.�
| nodded as he set a glass full of soda down on a tiny bar napkin. o! donTt see Jay. Is he downstairs?� | asked.
oYeah. | cut him off about ten minutes ago. Last | heard he was dancing on the pool table, singing that
stupid song about Kate.�
oIs it better or worse than the time he lost his job?�
oAbout the same, | think,� he said, mixing a Black Russian for the old guy who was waving his glass from
the stairwell. oThe thing is, he thinks sheTs coming back eventually. They were talking marriage and all. |
donTt know, Sarah. | know that girl. Knew her before he did. ITm telling you, that ship has sailed.�
| sipped my drink, wrinkling my nose at the jumping carbonation molecules that tickled my nostrils.
oThanks for calling me. I'll handle it from here. And for GodTs sake, get that birthday boy a beer. | think heTs
going to fall off the stool again trying to get your attention.�
| headed down the stairwell, thinking about Kate, the bane of my existence. All the guys loved Kate, ever
since the day about a year before when she interrupted our weeknightly coffee at Cup A Joe to ask the
time. My sarcastic quips and calm demeanor were no match for her constant glow. She was a tiny thing, a
dancer with sparkling green eyes and short blond hair that bounced when she turned her head. She
whirled in every night with glitter on her face, making the whole table giddy with her mere presence. Then
she would shout and run off to say hi to some old friend who happened to wander by. All the guys bent
over backwards to impress her, but Jay was the worst, and he was the one she chose.
gr
ag
kn
ar
And with her move to New York she'd left him here, lying on the
green felt with his legs hanging off the pool table, kicking back
against its legs b h tall enough to do that. His hands ~6 | t kj
inst its legs Decause he was ta u ey, are you " ing me
knocked the nine ball against the two right over his head. His hands
and his legs moved to the beat of the music.
oye been waiting for you, Vinsarah!� he mumbled in his best
Mandy Patinkin as soon as he saw me. oYou told me to go back to the
beginning. Well, this is where you found me.� He raised his head as far
as he could muster and smiled wide. oDid you just get here? Lemme
buy you a beer.�
oNo thanks, Indigo Montoya. | got a drink, see?� | said, raising my
glass to him. oI came to take you home.�
oOh. OK.� He let go of the pool balls and pushed himself up, falling
against me as he wobbled on unsteady legs.
o| gotcha,� | said, setting my drink on a table. | steadied him up the
home? ~Cuz | don't
wanna go home. All her
stuffTs still there. Heyy, |
canTt get my coat on.
Help!�
stairs and out the door, grabbing his coat on the way. oBye, Matt!� | said, waving with my free arm.
oBye, Matt!� Jay yelled at the top of his lungs, almost dragging us both down when he turned to wave his
long arms. Matt smiled and waved back to both of us.
oWhoa!� Jay said loudly as we stepped outside. oItTs colder than a frogTs ass out here!�
oIt sure is.�
oHey, are you taking me home? ~Cuz | donTt wanna go home. All her stuffTs still there. Hey, | canTt get my
Coat on. Help!�
| laughed and held him steady while he shoved his arm into a sleeve, fighting to clear his hand of the
nylon. oWell, we canTt go to my place because | promised my parents I'd stay at the house to watch the
Water level while theyTre in Kansas at that conference.�
oOh. Well, letTs go there.�
er oJay, the house is an island right now.�
oOh, yeah. Well, thatTs OK. LetTs go there anyway. I'll swim.�
a | pushed him into the passenger seat, giggling at the image. oOK. But you donTt have to swim. We'll
take the canoe.�
en | started the engine and backed out of the space. Jay pointed at the reflection on my windshield, the
Photo lit up by parking lot lights. oThatTs you and me!� he said with a smile. o| remember that! | got so
Many bruises from that fall.�
oAhh, but this picture is from before the landing. We still thought it was funny because we hadn't hit the
" _
63
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64
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ground yet.� | winked at him as the photo disappeared.
oHey, you got it set up like in that REM song.�
oThat's where | got the idea.�
He picked up the song as loud as he could. oPhotograph on the
dashboard,� he sang, otaken years ago. Turned around backwards so
the windshield shows.�
| joined him. oEvery streetlight reveals a picture in reverse!� We
sang the whole song until | pulled the car up to the streetTs edge in
my neighborhood, turned off the engine and put on my boots.
Jay steadied himself on wet trees that rubbed brown dirt on his
hands. oI think my socks are wet,� he said after we pushed through
the yards, leaning against the tree where | had tied the canoe.
oYou can take them off after we get on the porch. Here. Get in.� |
turned the canoe so that the stern was right up next to where he was
standing and held it with both hands while leaning over to keep it
from wobbling in the shallow water. Jay nearly tumbled twice, but
quickly plopped down into the bottom of the boat before he tipped. |
slid into the front and grabbed the oar.
oI'll help!� he said cheerfully, grabbing at another oar on the floor in
front of him.
oCareful not to let it fall in.�
| heard the woodTs sloppy attack on the water behind me and
smiled, breathing in slowly the icy air that clung to my throat. A small,
cold splash of water touched my face. | turned around.
oJay, donTt worry about it. | can row myself. You just sit there. It'll
only be a minute.�
He nodded and put the oar down, leaning his head back to rest on
the stern. oI donTt want to go in yet,� he said. oI'd rather row around in
your yard. Lucky thing the house is on stilts, huh?�
oYeah. But itTs a bitch when the water goes down and the yard is a
disaster. Mud everywhere. They do it every year, though. They try to
make me help them, but | hate yardwork. This whole flood thing is
getting really old. | mean, check out that willow tree over there,� | said
as we glided by what was left of my motherTs favorite tree. oA beaver
ju
ate it. We donTt have problems with Japanese beetles. We have beavers, for crying out loud! But my parents 65
get out here every year when monsoon season ends and start over.� We both watched a goose swim by,
rebel
mumbling to himself and ignoring us entirely.
oYeah. | always liked your parents. Better than mine, that's sure. | thought Kate and | were gonna be like them.�
| sighed and rested the oar in my lap, letting the canoe float aimlessly through the driveway. Matt's
words drifted through my head. That ship has sailed...
oSheTs coming back, you know,� he said, dragging his hand in the water behind us. oShe loves me. She
just couldnTt stay here. ThereTs nothing in North Carolina for her.�
oThereTs you,� | said quietly.
oYeah, but she shouldnTt stay here for me. | can always go there.�
oAre you going to?�
oShe said she didnTt want me to make that kind of move until sheTs settled. She said sheTll come back
when sheTs ready. SheTs the one, you know. ThereTs only one of her.�
oYeah,� | said, remembering how she came and went like a fairy, rendering me invisible. Me and my ordi-
nary hair and my ordinary body and my ordinary face. | was one of the guys, the one they called but never
the one they pined for. In one fell swoop Kate took everything | had been wanting for over a year. | could
never be Perfect Kate.
oShe's just so amazing,� he said. oShe's got this glow. You know how she is. Any one of those guys would do
anything for that girl. But she loves me. Me. She just got scared.�
o| know!� | yelled, my voice echoing across the river as | shoved the oar into the water and pushed the canoe
toward the porch.
Jay pulled his hand out of the water. oSorry. | know | talk about her too much. I'll shut up.�
| rubbed my eyes and put the gar up again, turning around to face him. oNo, itTs OK. You need me to lis-
ten. | should listen. LetTs go inside and get off those wet socks. I'll make us some hot chocolate and we can
turn on the fireplace.�
He smiled. oI love that fireplace,� he said, his glow reappearing. oTurn the switch on, turn the switch off!
Gas is the best.�
| bumped the canoe onto the porch steps and stepped out into the cold water, my numb toes moving to
reestablish the blood flow. | tied the rope to the railing. oCome on,� | said, holding out my hand to help him up.
' oItTs cold out here.�
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Holly Garriott
best in show
4 Do LAE Deas Lae
fo)
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70
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oO
oO WILD HAIR
Chip Schwartz
first place
o00
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DISPOSABLE RAZOR 2000
John Foust
second place
THE ONLY ONE
Marsha Howell
O00
third place
UNTITLED
Stacy Sawyer
honorable mention
oo0o00
PETAL DESIGN
Oe TA ORE Ss eS soe See we Be + . ee oun . eT ""
wee Oro. + s pat . ne a 0 RATA new en, we ane OOOH Porc SUE ERE Stave - ae o
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71
rebel
LINDSEY TALLBERG AS MAID
Scott Avett
first place
PREP O Ree gernne:
UNTITLED
Patrick Kelly
second place
| CANTT REMEMBER
Melissa Thompson
third place
PEPPERS
Ryan Cuthriell
honorable mention
gee any ERS EL SEL. ut mR oF
72
rebel
AMPHORA
Michael Cottrell
first place
A LOOK TO THE HAPPY PAST
WITH NOSTALGIA
Seoung Hee-Lee
second place
INSIDE OUT
Julie Wiggins
third place
ONE DROP
Andy Anzardo
honorable mention
os te a a ahaa
weak
LA
73
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DEAR PAKI
Mike Litwin
first place
DREAMING
David Springer
second place
COMMUNITY SERVICE
Chad Leaming
third place
BESSIE SMITH
Chad Leaming
honorable mention
citatitiaata ial
DTaP | (s Asean e esata teeta seeiinesneeer tie teeta tent i
agp atl bitin 3h Gt PIS Soke SS ene " 3 7 T _
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74
rebel
TEATOP
Brent Riggs
first place
UNTITLED
Andy Anzardo
second place
AFRICAN ANTELOPE
Lisa Kolhepp
third place
AUNT JOYCE S HORSES
Kat Fowler
first place
UNTITLED
April Kilpatrick
second place
NONE
Bobbie Daniel
third place
PORTRAIT OF TRY
Kat Fowler
honorable mention
75
rebel
- 0 et ane _ ee cae, hee a cs - ee eee : panei nner St maaaNet
lariThic REI K RCA IE SUG By SAL ey AE EE UI KG """EE "" ora,
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li BIRDCAGE
Tim Knouff
as
first place
BOUND TO HAPPEN
Jason Whitman
second place
q LIFE FORMS: INTRO TO
, MECHANICAL EXTENSIONS
Derrick McNew
third place
RTNTR SELECTED
Tim Knouff
honorable mention
The bath so 2 mmece of phynce! and emcee! mealing ® Jeagnene Cyure Add yhowe TEC AERAm bo eter be wngrowe Lied
ee
These Japaeee teenng Cuam,
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arr
ZEN-YU PACKAGING
Mimosa Mallernee
first place
PERSONAL SHRINES
Kat Fowler
second place
BEAUX-ARTS POSTER
David Whitman, Mimosa Mallernee,
Chad Leaming
third place
IMAGE DESIGN
EVERYDAY SHRINES
April Kilpatrick
first place
d
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Pa Ne rein nS ak peat ett in cb MS
$7 AT DOOR
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STMSTREET ENTRANCE MEMBERS
KKK KKKKKKKK
oo FURARIST DAMN SHOW TRIS SIDR OF URANUS >
FEATURING: orwoncapen� LO-Fl CONSPIRACY
pprpie sowTeD� 0 RICE RICE * orine BREATHING� NERO
HK ALL PROCEEDS BENE nt ee NSORED RY 40
CREENVICLE COMMUNITY SHELTER | ~ax Avvic COMLEX DOWHTW
noe Sa es |
77
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ee ae aren
78
rebel
PRINTMAKING
00
ooo
THE MEAT DOOR
Scott Avett
first place
..-RED-HANDEDI!
Paul Coenen
second place
SELF PORTRAIT
Scott Avett
third place
TRIAL BY FIRE
Aaryn Armstrong
first place
DESPERATE MEASURES
Jennifer Hatlestad
second place
UNTITLED
Erica Stankywytch
third place
RED
Lana Kay Ensmann
honorable mention
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79
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80
rebel
UNTITLED
Mark Traughber
first place
ANIMAL MACHINE
David Springer
second place
TOOLS
Matt Munoz
third place
UNTITLED
Mark Traughber
honorable mention
beat - - - ~ = SZ
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81
oO THE SPACE AROUND US CALEB DOWD
Caleb Dowd
In memorium
1978-2000
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- coger - ~ : os ose S ae
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Have. you ever let the sounds
of anold floor
guide you through the dark spaces
of night?
Could youtrust enough
fe} alas
to let down your arms
and walk?
~
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MAGNOLIA
rebel
Poem by Jason Whitman
lllustration by David Springer
MAGNOLIA CATALYST: THIRD PLACE POETRY
Flat spearheads, enameled by Spring \
shot out like tiger trappings |
from beneath our dangling legs
while we remained suspended
above duskTs travelers
Your lips opened to give instruction
and the hammer in my ear
began to forge possibilities,
shape an older beauty
with your likeness
with me
| and
with that,
| descended.
What rides in on death
might deliver a fatherTs love;
tell them to bury me next to him
_ (with a spade in my hand).
there is still matter
between us
the utilities of
polite separation
like doors or
ining room tables
our iron made mallet
WHAT RIDES IN ON DEATH-FIRST PLACE POETRY
of being
a wedge in the wood of us
even as you descended
your oaken casket
brought down rich heaps
wet dirt and rock
and the earth fell
fast between us
for a moment
| heard you scratching at
your roof
�"�tunneling to me at last.
|
|
RIDES IN ON
DEATH
"__Poem-by Robin Vuchnich.
IIlustration by Robin Vuchnich
or acupaah ot At eyureennkee .
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Prete: ~~. - att eee se eek es ee 2; @ o" ee a ea Cee el Wig whi . " Her eh eee ve 6 _ =~ aaa aiitien hs: ode aehaaatiogl amine Pn aaeeaes actin entiation eae eyeing ar Penge ai
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THE IRISHMAN-FIRST PLACE NON-FICTION
Welle vebesttel
Story by Emily Little
Illustration by James Harris
lam naive America. | am a tourist with a silver and gold Fossil watch
and a brand new pleather Femme Nikita coat, wandering the streets
of Dublin with a map and a bookbag full of guides. Invisible red circles
hover around me, the easy target for locals who say, look, she is alone.
But | am also a student, here on a loan that will take me ten years
to pay off. Two days ago my purse was swiped in London by two peo-
ple | never saw. Now | sit, eating my lunch in the pouring rain. All |
have left is a handful of Irish pounds, tucked neatly in the front po
of my cargo pants. And the invisible bullseye comes to rest on my
forehead, and | pray no one will notice.
Praying seems natural, since | have just come from St. PatrickTs
Cathedral, where | stared for an hour at the feet of a colored glass
model of Jesus on the cross, trying to get him to tell me why he was
up there. But he wouldn't tell, and | began to think he didnTt know. On
my way out | lit a candle for the world, because | didnTt know any
Catholics, so | couldnTt pin down any specific purpose for the flame,
and the colored-glass Jesus said that was OK.
o12:40,� | say, consciously aware of my American accent.
o12:40? Are you sure?� He asks.
At my emphatic nod, he starts down the stairs, then turns and motions to see the watch, as if he doesnTt
believe me. So | show him my expensive-looking watch to prove that | have no motive fonlying, at which
point he turns away again.
In an unseen motion, he is back up the stairs and in my face, his blue eyes piercing my own with intensity.
oGimme your money,� he says.
oWhat?� | ask in disbelief.
oGimme your money.�
Bullseye. Invisible circles explode away, and all | feé
think about the purse that was already stolen, the
pulled my first day in London that never went a
camera that ate my best roll of film, the sunglasses that fell and broke
in the Tube, and the nine-hour, overnight la have waiting for me
| /
on the return trip. He simply canTt have the rest, My eyes roll to his /
pocket; too shallow for a gun, too flat for a
oNo,� | say.
oDTye want me to hit you?�
oThey already stole most of what | had,� | tell
already stolen.�
real this whole thing is. | have forgotten about the police issue pepper
spray | always keep in the front pocket of the bookbag lying beside
me on the ground.
oITm sick,� he says.
| choke down three simultaneous thoughts: What do you want me to do about it? - Do you have asthma
or something? - Go to a hospital; you people have socialized health care. But | say nothing.
The IrishmanTs eyes are wide and white, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. | guess heTs never mugged an
American before.
oDTye want me to hit you and take your money anyway?�
Good luck finding it, | think, remembering the flimsy Irish bills tucked away in the front pockets of my cargo
pants, now hidden from sight by my Nikita coat.oWhy would you do that?� | say in my best innocent voice.
oDTye know what a syringe is?� he asks, pulling one out of his pocket.
So that's what he was holding inthe hand | couldnTt see. ITm racking my brain to figure this one out.
Heroin? Some sleepy drug that will paralyze me? | stare at it, poised against his tiny waist as he waits for
my reaction. ItTs empty. Maybe he plans to ram it through one of my eyeballs.
oDTye want me to stick this in you?�
ITm still not sure about the syringe, but ITve set on a course of action here, and thereTs no going back.
oWhy would you do that?� | say again, this time staring at him with the biggest pair of doe-eyes
| can muster.
ones Seb em ane
mei oeates
HeTs running out of options. oListen, just gimme your money.�
o| told you!� | shout as a raindrop falls into my open mouth. oThey already stole it!�
oWho stole it?�
oThey did!� | say, pointing to my best guess at London. oIn London!�
He lowers the syringe and his face falls into casual conversation mode.
oSo, you were in London then?�
| nod. oYeah, | was just-�
oOh, well uh...ITm uh...� He turns quickly and stumbles a little down the stairs, through the
bushes and out of the park.
For a second all | can do is sit here, the rain dripping off my chin. Then | take a quick breath, drop my
sandwich through a bottomless, rusty trashcan, grab my bag and high-tail it out of the park in case he
changes his mind.
Those little red circles on my forehead appear to have been a decoy, because | just did the stupidest
thing and got away with it. The shock-induced laughter creeps its way into my throat while | duck down
backroads to avoid running into him again. My body keeps thinking itTs not over, and ITm still trapped on
the bench, face to face with those big blue Irish eyes.
ItTs not until | slip out of the rain into the Guiness museum that the shock settles into exhaustion. | turn
around to the old American couple behind me and tell them my story because | have to tell somebody.
oYou're lucky,� the wife says. oHe could have had AIDS.�
At first | canTt see how that makes a difference, but then | realize what she means, and it sucks the
energy right out of me.| wrap my arms tightly around me to shrink into a walking ball of contemplation.
This changes everything. )
Maybe he was bluffing, | think. Maybe he had some horrible fear of people who'd been to London. Or
maybe he didnTt hurt me because heTs not a bad person; he couldn't look into some little college girl's eyes
and ruin her life for a handful of bills. | like that explanation the best. | decide that he can have my candle.
Tomorrow | will light him another one.
nine
but above yo
dragging whites
.
Nag
; Pe
ai es
7 a.
oS
rien emi
.
:
;
rebel
FALLING INTO MYSELF-SECOND PLACE POETRY
unknown to most
but a self-considered burden
the part of herself she hates
like a disease seeded deep inside her bodice
may a propellant of her past pain
not yet worded correctly
since she was never allowed to speak
silenced and sullen set
in a pictorial past portal
a proverbial catalogue of symbols and gestures
her inner child has kept so hidden
but now burst open and bleeding
with a trail of persisting problems
since it all lacks a reference in the back
or anywhere
only solace is an occasional nod from her therapist
every other week
like she is dysfunctionally typical
still, there is nothing to help make sense
of invading imagery
especially the understanding of its core
her father
not why but how?
never to know
Fay jit
vse
Poem by Suzanne Bellamy
Illustration by James Harris
and she eats her own meat with an uncontrollable hunger
f
she is set on a path of personal confusion
without the safety of yellow curbs to guide her way
just unleveled unpaved streets (if called such)
covered in gravel and sand
covered and lodging in her skin and eyes
when she falls
falls
not from hopelessness
but exhaustion and frustration
she is in the habit of numbing
the good as well as the bad
with outside influence
which, of course, is another trouble
even so,
over and over again she goes
but she is tired
eyes darkened and skin pale
she is ready for something else
nothing easily given
but an available new beginning
if worked and found within herself
herself
me
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to go ahead with your mind-
_poke at its sleeping curiosities
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| " ee ee ee OS arr re Por erecerrar SST TAaTT TTF 7 Wiervwy.;* wut? WET Ee, ST, PU ATE Py i¥VVUIVs, vwuy uy
Miria Modlin, Eva Roberts, lynn Caverly, Henry Stindt Photography, Pamela Cox, Ann Weingartz, Patty Weeks, Courtney Poulos, C rrol Dashiell, School of Art Office Personnel,
Ip eck, Beth Blake, Stanton and Lisa Blakeslee, Sue Luddeke, Brett Hursey, Mary Carroll Hackett, Holly Garriott, Tim Knouff, Jacob Garmon, Andy Anzardo, Chip Schwartz, Mike
ung-Hee-Lee, Derrick McNew, Scott Avett, Staci Sawyer, Mark Traughber, Mike Litwin, Kat Fowler, Robin Vuchnich, Chad Leaming, David Springer, Brent Riggs, April Kilpatrick
-Hatoum, Abbi Poplin, Melissa Thompson, Brandie Kirkman, Nikki Teel, Ben Gaskins, Josh Brinson, Everett Purvis, Todd Grady, Mike Robinson, Allen Vervisch, Hughlene Crisp¢
one that was not mentioned above, thank you. 2001 Rebel Staff
- oe ee
|
COLOPHON
The text for the Rebel was set in Thesis Sans, Thesis Mix and Thesis Serif.
Headlines were designed using the following typefaces: Adobe Garamond,
Palace Script and the Thesis family. The Rebel was designed on a Macintosh
platform with QuarkXPress 4.1 and was printed on Utopia® Two matte 80 Ib.
coated text. 2700 copies were printed on a Heidelberg press at University
Printing and Graphics in Greenville, North Carolina. Letterpress work was
done on Strip-Tac® 60 Ib. high gloss Crack Tn Peel with a Vandercook SP20
proof press by the Trade Union Press in Ayden, North Carolina.
The Rebel is produced for and by the students of East Carolina University.
Offices are located in the Student Publications Building. Volume 43 and its
contents are copyrighted 2001 by the Rebel. All rights revert to the individual
writers and artists upon publication. Contents may not be reproduced by any
means, nor may any be stored in any information retrieval system without
the written permission of the writer or the artist.
�,�> Printed on recycled paper with nonstate funds.
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