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Rebel 56 is an adventure. It pays homageto the blossoming of travel in the 1920'sand 1930Ts"all the while highlighting theaward-winning work of the student artistsand writers of East Carolina University.

Table of Contents |,Animation* 2 |Book Arts 8Ceramics 14 |Dance* 29 :Digital Photography 28Documentary Film* 36Drawing a2Fiction 48Film Art* 70Graphic Design 76 !Illustration 84Metal Design 90Mixed Media 98Music* 106Non-Fiction 12Painting 118Poetry 126Printmaking 132Sculpture 140Textile Design 148Traditional Photography 156Wood Design 164Best in Show 170Judges 176Staff 17]Production Notes 178Special ~Thanks 1|Copyright 181] :|||||*Al] winning entries in marked categories can be viewed at www.ecu.edu/ cs-studentaffairs/rebel.

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cmMARIAH LEE ROSSA New MillenniumFictionChris and Ray were driving to the liquor store in ChrisT dadTs oldDodge Caravan. Chris was keeping an eye out for Woodward Ave-nue while Ray fiddled with the radio.oSo do you think Vickie will be there tonight?? Chris asked.oProbably, I called Lauren yesterday and she said Vickie wasspending the night with her,? Ray said, turning the dial past TheGoo Goo Dolls and Britney Spears.oYeah, my dad will probably be hammered watching the balldrop like he is every year,? Ray said, stopping at a local radio station.: y é ? y Ps :oHELL-O DETROIT? ItTs four oTclock and youTre listening tothe Motor City Madman, the Car Town Crazy, Mister--MarcMaxwell. ItTs the dawn of a new century folks!?oOh shit!? Chris said slamming on the brakes and making a hardturn down Woodward Avenue in the wood-paneled tank.oJesus!? Ray yelled.oNow everyone is talking about the end of the world, this Y-2-Kdebacle weTve got ourselves into. LetTs take some calls and see whatyou all think about it. First caller, you are on the air!?oSorry, I hate driving this thing,? Chris said.Chris pulled into the liquor store. He parked far away from theentrance to feel more clandestine.oHello, my name is Victor.?oHow-you-doing- Vic. May-I-Call-You-Vic? What is your opin-ion on this whole Y-2-K thing??oPersonally, I think everyone is overreacting. I think we canhandle computers going off-line for a couple of days.?oWho are we meeting?? Chris asked.oHolliday Jones,? Ray said looking around the vacant parking lot,oand why are we parked so far away from the entrance??oWho?? Chris asked as Ray got out of the car and walked overto the alleyway where two homeless men were playing cards.oHey Mr. Jones,? Ray said approaching the homeless men.oWho you calling Mister? Gat-Damnit Ray, you know my nameis Holliday. Just Holliday.? One of the men said throwing down agroup of cards.oSorry Holliday, do you think you could buy me and my frienda bottle of Vodka?? Ray asked pointing to the Chris who wasobserving from inside the car.oItTs a damn shame"yTall young folk canTt buy liquor. Why,when Earl and I were boys we could go down to the corner andbuy ourselves a bottle of that shitty West Virginia hooch that'dkeep a preacher hung-over on Sunday.? Holliday Jones said run-ning his thumb over his lip.50 | Fiction14

cmoAmen,? the other homeless man chimed in as he stuffed hiscoat with bits of crinkled up newspaper.oSo is 1t cool?? Ray asked.oThat depends... why do you need this liquor?? Holliday Jonesasked.oWeTre having an end-of-the-world party tonight... you know...for Y2K and all that.?oEnd of the World! Look around, the world of Detroit endedyears ago,? Holliday Jones said jumping up. oThe shit fell from thesky, and set fire to the Earth.?Holliday Jones used to work with Chris and RayTs fathers in theChrysler Warehouse. One day while inspecting the brakes on aminivan a co-worker slammed the door on his head. ~This was howmost people explained his erratic behavior and mood swings.oSo is that a yes?? Ray asked.Chris got out of the car. Holliday Jones jumped at the sound ofthe car door slamming.They drove back to ChrisT house for a New YearTs dinner. Ray al-ways liked driving by the old Chrysler building. Its windows, whichonce housed so much life, were now completely frosted over. Raywould always remember when his mom took him to visit his dad atwork. He remembered watching his dad inspect the engines. HisfatherTs eyes had a focus in them that had since been lost.oGlenn you are on the air.?oComputers are going to be the death of us all. Nazis built thefirst computers to keep a tally of the Jews! Come midnight, the veilwill be lifted, and you will all see!?oThe temperature must have dropped twenty degrees sinceyesterday,? Chris said turning the heat up.Ray pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his brown leather jacket,oYeah, good thing weTll have our beer blankets on tonight.?oYou need to get a new jacket man.?oWhatTs wrong with the bomber?? Ray asked lighting a cigarette.oMedia hype! ThatTs all this is. We get all worked up into a fren-zy about something, and when the dust settles, we realize it was allover nothing.?oOther than the fact itTs an artifact?? Chris asked poking hisfinger through a hole in the stitching.oT bet Vickie would like the bomber,? Ray said following hisstatement with a small jab at Chris.oStop,? Chris said, holding back laughter and returning a fewjabs with his right hand, owe wonTt make it to the New Year.?Fiction | 51Ls:14

D2 FictionoIT donTt think itTs crazy to believe weTre on the brink of a man-made disaster. I donTt think most people truly understand the ex-tent we rely on computers. ~Ten years ago, this may have not beena problem, but we have computer technology integrated in everylevel of infrastructure. Power grids may go down, water processingplants, ATMs... nuclear power plants could shut down!?oSo are you trying to nail her tonight?? Ray asked as theyturned onto ChrisT street.oshut up man.?oCome on, we both know you arenTt into Vickie for her person-ality,? Ray said tossing the cigarette out the window.~They both winced as the cold air crept into the van.oWeTre here,? Chris said, trying to fit the van inbetween hisparentTs cars.Ray got out and watched the vanTs suspension tremble awk-wardly as Chris negotiated the narrow space.oI hate this car,? Chris said as he got out.Chris and Ray walked into the kitchen where ChrisT mom wasfilling old milk jugs with water from the faucet. ChrisT dad waschanging the batteries in all the flashlights. His sister Claire was onthe cordless with her boyfriend.oHey dad.?oHey Mr. Boyed.?oHey boys,? Mr. Boyed said testing the flashlights.oHey honey, dinner will be ready in a little bit. Is Ray eatingwith us?? Mrs. Boyed said checking the oven.oYeah, weTre going to eat then go to RayTs house to watch theball drop.? Chris said.oOh, sweetie, I donTt know. Have you been watching the news?TheyTre saying we may lose power,? Mrs. Boyed said pulling a bagof salad out the fridge.oThey'll be fine Martha,? Mr. Boyed said sitting down at thetable.oClaire, dinner.?oOne second,? Claire said, still on the phone.oClaire,?oOkay, okay! ITve got to go, [ll call you later...? Claire said look-ing around, and then whispering, o...I love you too babe.?oSo Ray, howTs your dad doing?? Mr. Boyed asked.oHeTs doing alright,? Ray said, fidgeting in his chair, ostill look-ing for a job.?

Mrs. Boyed brought over a loaf of bread and a plate of porkchops.oWell you know weTre always looking for people at Mitsubishi.?Mr. Boyed said, reaching for the bread.oHoney!? Mrs. Boyed yelled, snatching the bread. oWhat aboutyour diet??oSorry,? Mr. Boyed said retracting his hand, oso what are youtwo planning on doing tonight??oUm, probably just stay up and watch the ball drop, maybe playsome video games.? Chris said, stuffing his mouth with pork chops.oAre you going to take the woody out tonight?? Mrs. Boyedasked.The Woody, the moniker that always made Chris cringe, was hismomTs name for the wood-paneled Dodge Caravan. Ray alwaysgigeled a little when Mrs. Boyed mentioned Chris otaking thewoody out.?oYeah, ITm taking the van out tonight,? said Chris, sawingthrough a pork chop.oWell, be careful, make sure you stay warm tonight. Ray, hasyour dad stocked up just in case?? Mrs. Boyed asked nervouslymoving her peas around with a fork.Chris and Ray got into the woody and headed over to RayTs house.oSo do you think a lot of people are going to be there tonight??Chris asked as they made their way to the other side of town.oProbably, I'll call a few people when we get to my place.?oShould we call Vickie??oNoe.?oWhy not??oBecause thatTs incredibly lame. Just relax dude, we'll have a drinkwhen we get to my place.?oRay, is that you?? RayTs dad shouted as the two boys walked in.oYeah dad, Chris is spending the night,? shouted Ray as thetwo walked in with the bottle of vodka.Mr. Harris was working his way through a case of Budweiserand watching Dick Clark on the T'V.oOh. HowTs your dad doing Chris?? RayTs dad asked withoutturning around.oHeTs doing pretty good, Mr. Harris. His new job at Mitsubishiis working out really well for him.?Ray looked down at the case of Budweiser his dad had gotteninto. It looked about half empty. Ray hoped his dad wouldn'tcurse ChrisT father for being a oturncoat? and working for oaFiction | 53cm dl z 3 4 © 6 at 8 S| 10 iil lee Ls: 14 ls 19

54 | Fictionblood-thirsty Jap dealership.?Instead, Mr. Harris leaned back in his chair and said, oThatTsgood to hear. Your father probably never told you how I saved hishte back im 69,?In reality, this was at least the fourth time Mr. Harris had toldChris this story.oYour old man and me were putting the axles on the frame for aLeBaron...or maybe a town car? Anyway, we were fitting the axlesand out of nowhere?oDad we have stuff we got to do,? Ray interrupted.oOkay, okay. If you boys go out, donTt do anything stupid,? Mr.Harris said as his eyes followed the curves of whatever teenagepop star they were interviewing on TTV, oand there are some TVdinners in the fridge 1f you boys get hungry.?The boys were back on the road within fifteen minutes.oSo where are we going exactly?? Chris asked as he drove thewoody along Jefferson Avenue.oThe old Ford warehouse,? Ray said staring out over the blackwaters of Lake Huron, and the thin layer of fog that loomed abovethe surface.oOh, itTs a factory party.?Chris parked his car a few blocks away from the factory. Raytook a big swig of vodka before getting out of the car. Theywalked through the back parking lot where they saw two boys fromtheir high school shivering by a window.oHey guys,? Ray said walking over to them.oHey Ray, Chris. Climb in through the window,? one of theboys said as his teeth chattered, othey started a trashcan fire inthere. ©oHere man,? Ray said handing the boy the bottle of vodka,othis will keep you warm.?The boys helped Chris and Ray climb up to the window. Theyjumped down into the warehouse. The smell of smoke saturatedthe air.oWe're probably going to suffocate,? Chris said as they walkedby an old assembly line.oOur dads probably met in a room like this one,? Ray said slid-ing his hand over the cold metal of the machines.oI saw the Chevy assembly line once,? Chris said lookingaround the room, oit was bigger than this one. They probablymade small stuff here.?Ray followed Chris into the main room where a large group

cmoWe need to get into bomb shelters after the ball drops.?of people huddled around the fire. Chris and Ray were greetedalmost as warmly as their vodka.Chris spotted Vickie outside the huddle talking to her friendLauren. She was wearing white boots and a white vest. Chriskept trying to sneak glances at her face. All of her features wereenhanced by the light of the fire. Her lips shimmered reflecting thedancing flame.oTake a swig,? Ray said handing Chris the bottle.After a few passes of the bottle, and a few awkward minutes ofsilence, they found themselves in the middle of a conversation.oWell the computers going down is a concern, but we hackersare the real threat,? a boy named Jeremy said after his third swig.oWe hackers?? Ray asked, oas in, youTre a hacker??oYeah,? Jeremy said.oBullshit,? one boy said throwing an empty beer can at Jeremy.oWhat? ITm serious. All of the serversT defenses are going to bedown. ItTs the perfect time to strike,? Jeremy said.oT think the Russians are going to nuke us,? another boy said,They all knew they were drunk when they started entertainingthe idea of their own TVTs killing them. It was around this pointthe entire camaraderie that had been built up was broken as Lau-ren and Vickie entered the huddle.oHey everyone,? Vickie said introducing herself to the one ortwo people she didnTt know.oHey Vickie,? Chris said offering her the bottle.oThanks,? she said taking a small swig, owhatTs your nameagain??Ray held back his laughter.oTtTs Chris,? Chris said introducing himself.oWell itTs nice to meet you Chris,? Vickie said as her friendLauren whispered something in her ear.It wasnTt long before the bottle was empty. A group of peoplearrived with a few cases of beer and a hand radio. ~They turned itto an A.M. radio channel that was broadcasting the ball drop fromTimes Square.oThere is a lot of energy in the air tonight. There is a lot of talkabout the New Millennium. Excitement, anticipation, and a smalllevel of fear as we count down the end of an era.?Chris and Ray tried to talk to Vickie and Lauren, but foundlittle common ground. Ray cringed through her diatribe about Ab-ercrombie & Fitch, and wanted to scream when she began talkingabout makeup being over-priced. Chris stood there nodding hisFiction | 52

cm56 | Fictionhead and interjected with a sporadic oyeah? or ointeresting.?oPhil, it looks more crowded this year than previous years.?oPeople have come out tonight, as they have in previous years,but I think most people want to be here in case the lights go out.ToThe Banana Republic is my new home, oh-my-god!? Vickiesaid putting her arm around Chris.oMe too,? Ray said radiating with sarcasm.oRay!? Lauren said. oWe should totally take you shopping.oThat would be wonderful,? Ray said as he chugged the rest ofhis beer.oI need some new clothes too,? Chris began, onone of myclothes fit me anymore.?oEverybody!? a boy shouted. oTheyTre going to start the count-down!?oFIVE! POUR! THREE!?Everyone in the warehouse began counting down.oEWO! ONE!The room flooded with silence.STLAPPY NEW YEAR!?Everyone in the warehouse cheered. A few girls grabbed a guyto kiss. Chris looked over at Vickie, but she was giving Lauren apeck on the cheek. He felt a little deflated.After the countdown, a large group of people left. Chris andRay stuck around talking to Vickie and Lauren. Lauren walkedaway to go chat with a guy on the football team. Chris, Ray, andVickie stood there talking for a while. ~They stuck mostly to topicsof VickieTs rampant consumerism.oHey, I need to go to the little boysT room,? Chris said.Just go into the other room,? Ray said.oAlright, be right back,? Chri is said leaving the room.Chris walked back into the small assembly room. He could heara few audible moans, but 1t was too dark for him to determinetheir origins.aDChris walked back into the main room, and saw Vickie in thecorner with Ray. ~heir faces a few inches apart. ~The two boysTeyes locked.Vickie turned around and saw Chris, oI better get going.?Vickie went over to talk to Lauren.oWhat the fuck was that?? Chris said, closing in on Ray.oIT donTt know man, she just kind of cae ed me,? Ray said look-ing down at the floor.They stood there for a few moments. Most of the people were14lsI

cmleaving the warehouse.oYou knew I wanted to"ToWhat? Screw her?? Ray asked.oGod damnit Ray,? Chris said balling his fists.oCalm down, it was just a kiss. No tongue or anything,? Raysaid taking a step back from Chris.ChrisT mind was racing. The sick feeling of betrayal churnedhis stomach. He didnTt even realize he had swung until he felt hisboney knuckle hit RayTs jaw. ~The sound of impacted flesh rang outthrough the ruin.oFuck you, man!? Ray said pushing Chris.Chris threw another punch but Ray was too fast. Before Chrisknew what was happening, Ray was choking him from behind.ChrisT attempts to pry RayTs arm off his throat were futile. ChrisTknees gave out before Ray released him.It took Chris a few minutes to catch his breath before he couldmuster words, oI hate you.?oChris,? Ray began, oITm sorry man.?Chris stood up, and looked at Ray, oGood luck finding a ridehome, asshole.?is)Chris was driving home down Jefferson Avenue. He lookedout over Lake Huron. He remembered the time Mr. Winston gotdrunk and tried to swim to Canada. His body was found half-fro-zen the next morning.Chris looked over at his passenger seat. ~There, sitting next tohim was RayTs leather bomber jacket. Chris ran his fingers overthe worn leather. One day, Mr. Harris told the boys that RayTsgrandfather was a fighter pilot in World War II. He brought thejacket out to show them.oThat old bastard shot down more than his share of krauts,?Mr. Harris told them as he admired the jacket. oHe gave me thisold jacket when I was your age.?Ray had worn that ragged jacket ever since. Chris rememberedhow foolish it looked on him. At first, it was two sizes too big andthe sleeves hung over his hands. ~That was more than three yearsago. The jacket fit now, and after a while it stopped looking foolish.Chris stopped the van.Chris found Ray walking a few blocks from the warehouse. Hepulled the woody over and opened the passenger door. ~They didn'tsay anything.Ray got in and put the bomber on.oDo you mind if I crank the heat?? Ray asked as his teeth chattered.Fiction | 5/Ls:14lsdL

cm58 | Fictioneae fOr ieThe streets were filled with drunk drivers. Chris, being a littleless than sober himself, was trying to steer clear of major roads.oThere are a lot of °em out tonight,? Chris said.oI guess they're disappointed the world didnTt end.?They drove through the darkness of the abandoned buildings, ad-miring the wasteland. ~They barely noticed the other lights shiningin defiance.14ils16

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ERIKA DIETRICKSilent StrengthFictionDr. Anderson clasped his hands together until his knuckles turnedwhite, as he always did before he was about to make his prognosis.oHailey, a lot of the symptoms you are describing sound like theymay be symptoms of depression. Depression can affect anyone at anyage, and itTs easily treatable with medication.?I stared blankly at the doctor, long legs dangling off of the exam-ination chair. What was I supposed to say?oOh... I replied. { quickly shot a glance at my mom, sitting in achair off to the side of the room"she was staring back at me.The doctor continued to ramble on about the positive results hispatients have had from this antidepressant, how sometimes therapyshould be used to supplement it. I nodded when appropriate""I smiledlike I was hearing a cute story about his four-year-old son.I donTt know how things got to this point.History class was boring as usual, our teacher droning on and onlysomewhat teaching us incorrect material. I sat in the second row, note-book open, the page facing me already covered in notes.Suddenly, I felt a prick on my back. Confused, I turned around.Nothing. I faced the teacher once again.Ouch! Another prick, much harder this time. ~Two more, and another,now three at once...the pencils landed on the floor beside me. I turnedaround once again to see two girls in the back laughing hysterically.Completely embarrassed and with the entire class silently w atching,I stage-whispered, oCut it out, guys!? As if that would do any good.Pee five more pencils pierced the back of my shirt. I star ed at thefront of the classroom, please stop, please stop, ple ase stop I repeatedlike a mantra. The bell finally rung. I grabbed my bag, and I scoopedup the pile of pencils around my desk, as if salvaging whatever dignityI had left.oAre you feeling okay?? Mom asked as we drove home, her voicea mix of awkward strain and concern. I stared out the antes eventhough I felt carsick. This school was supposed to be better. Betterthan the snotty private school I just left. T'm just an invisible nerd whoisnTt good at anything to these people.oT just feel lonely and sad, I hate the girls at my school,? I said witha heavy, tightened chest. I just want to go to college, or dr op out ofhigh school, or move out of the state, I thought. I just want to be leftalone, thatTs all.oDonTt pass it to the center, Hailey!?oHAILEY, get over here!!?oYou tould try to pass it right to me next time...T560 | Fiction

cmI kept running down the soccer field at practice, eyes straight ahead,pretending not to notice them. The Senior Girls. ~The Girls ThatHated Me.I busted my tail down the field when my team had the ball at prac-tice, wide open near the goal.oPass!? i yélled. o1m open!?The dribbler looked right at me, then turned to kick it to a girl withtwo defenders on her. Sighing, defeated, I jogged back up the field todefend our goal.At the end of practice, all of the girls formed a giant huddle, guz-zling water and laughing at inside jokes. I grabbed my water bottleand rehydrated off to the side"I didnTt care to be a part of that. Thecoach did his usual 30-second spiel about needing to work hard thisseason and then let us go.I met my boyfriend at the edge of the field, his practice endingjust after mine. I hugged him tightly despite his sweat-drenched shirt,letting all of my frustration seep out.oYour coach really needs to start playing you more,? he started, ashe always did after practice. oYouTre way better than any of the girlson your team.?Like that matters in a town like this, I thought. I knew he was right.I stared at the little bottle of Celexa, twisting the bottle around in myhand. The name sounded like it belonged to a rich celebrity, or maybea Martian.I didnTt want to take it. Why canTt I just get over this? I thought.Why do I have to be so weak? I twisted the cap off and peered insideat the small brown pills.In a way, I really wanted to take it. I wanted to feel better. I wantedto stop crying all of the time. I wanted to stop feeling so tired. I want-ed to feel happy again.I pinched one of the pills between my fingers and promptly swal-lowed it. Day 1.oYouTre such a whore now, Hailey.?I snapped around in my chair to face Matthew. The guy who was mybest friend last year.oWill you freaking shut up, Matthew? ITm trying to actually usestudy hall to get stuff done.? I pressed my pen forcefully to paper, myface hot and my heart angry.oITm serious,? he said. oNow that youTre with Derek, youTre a whore.You guys have pronabe already had sex.? Both Matthew and hisfriend Anthony snickered to themselves.oWill you stop calling me that?! I thought you were supposed to beFiction | 61

my friend!? I snapped back at him, realizing how stupid my come-backs were. I furiously scanned the room...no empty seats to move to.Unfocused, I started doing problems from my Algebra II book, myanger a destructive combination with my already-lacking math skills.Suddenly, I felt a ruler go up my skirt. I jumped, startled, angrily,oWhat are you DOING?!? I yelled as Anthony bent over with laugh-ter and Matthew scooted close to me, moving his tongue around hismouth like he was going to make out with me. Is this real life?o..But seriously, youTre a slut, Hailey. And you barely have any boobs.?It was the night of our first home game. And it just so happened thatwe were playing my old snotty private school, St. PaulTs. | walkedacross the field to the bench with my team confidently. Pll show them,I thought. I canTt wait to show them how good I am at soccer andsmoke them! I bounced on my toes at the bench, unable to contain myexcitement for revenge.Our obese, hung-over coach called off the starting line-up""whichincluded his daughter, her friends, the Senior Girls, and most impor-tantly, not me. It was no secret that Mark Pack had a grudge againstmy dad"the kind that only result from attempted petty competition ina small town-~and it was apparent that he wasnTt going to play fairly.I sat down on the bench as the starters took the field. ItTs okay, Ithought. Pll still play my heart out once m on the field, Pll showthem what Tm made of. The whistle sounded and the game began.With only ten minutes left in the game, my disappointment hadturned to pure, unbridled anger. I sat still as a stone, arms crossed,watching the blades of grass by my feet sway in the wind. I watchedthe grass as everyone else played, and I was watching the grass whenthe game-ending whistle was blown.I shot up, ready to grab my bag and get the hell out of there, until Irealized that I still had to shake hands with the other team. Horrified,I looked into the eyes of all of my old, snotty classmates, shook theirhands, told them they played a good game.I started fast-walking across the field. The tears were already in myeyes. DonTt cry yet, I canTt cry yet, I thought. I found my boyfriendbeside the stands and walked straight into his arms, burying my face inhis chest.oWe gotta go, we really gotta go,? I whispered, my voice cracking. Ilet out a sob.In half a second, he had wrapped his arm around my shoulder,sheltering my face from the parents and my jackass of a coach as wealmost ran past the open gate.62 | Fictioniil lee Ls: 14

cmoI canTt do this, Zach.? Sobbing and heaving hysterically, I grippedhis hand as we walked loops around the path near the school. oI hatethese people, and [| hate this town!?oIT know,? he replied quietly. oYou donTt deserve this at all.?oT mean it, I hate these people. Why do people always treat me thisway? I didnTt do anything to them!? I exclaimed right before hiccup-ping with another wave of sobs. I let my tears wash over me, hopingto cleanse myself of all the sadness I felt rushing through every vein inmy body...a coping mechanism at best. Between ZachTs s mentally ill fa-ther and my struggles through school, we were used to coping together.That night was a night spent alone. A night when I was so inside myhead that I couldnTt see. Cross-legged on the floor in my messy room,I stared through a wall and remembered everything. All of the littlethings over all these years, things that couldnTt be explained to otherpeople who werenTt there to see it. | wasnTt beat up or shoved intolockers""girls donTt play that nicely. Even my old guy friends wereimpervious to the pain they caused me.I was mean to no one. I minded my own business. I went out of myway to sit by kids who were by themselves. I liked learning and writingand thinking, and I wanted nothing more than to go to college, whereI would finally be.I just didnTt get it.Day 13 of the Celexa, and I was feeling better. Not great, but good.School had just started, and I was now taking all of my classes at theUniversity of CincinnatiTs community college about an hour away. Iloved my new classes"I loved the freedom and the new friends I had,even if it was a little creepy that a fifteen-year-old would have adultfriends. It was almost like starting over. Brushing on eye shadow, Ismiled at myself in the mirror.The school day was typical. | beamed as my first-ever short storywas read aloud in Creative Writing. My History class was boring, and Ilearned about the parts of a cell in General Biology.Mom picked me up from school, as usual""I wouldnTt get my licensefor another year.One year and thirty credit hours later, I felt as if I had been rebornagain as I drove to class my junior year, my boyfriend now sitting ina seat beside me. This year was going to be the best: I had a car, Iwas basically going to college, I rarely had to go back to my old highschool, and best of all, my boyfriend was now attending classes withme. My medication, my boyfriend, and I could live out the rest of highFiction | 63lsIt

school in an academic bubble until we could finally leave this blackhole of a town.It was a dream. It was perfect.I would survive.I lived in my own happy space now, my own little world. My boy-friend and I would go to our separate classes and then meet up forlunch to catch each other up on our day. We would walk the paths ofthe college, holding hands and talking. We would go to the park andhike trails, or drive to FrischTs for dinner, or go to Walmart and walkaround, just cause we could. They were the best days with my best friend.~1 month later~\ oHailey...your dad got the job,? Mom said as we sat in the living room,the television blasting. I was careful not to whip my head to face her"rather, I just continued to stare at the television. oOh,? I replied.My dad had been applying for a job anywhere and everywhere to getout of here. When he applied for the directorial position at a hospital| in South Carolina, he was one of hundreds of applicants. Doubtfulthat someone from a small town with experience at a hospital thatserved less than 10,000 people would get the job, my family and I onlywatched with one eye as the other applicants were weeded out. My| dad and a man from Washington had survived the interviews...andnow my dad had been chosen.I was so proud of him"but I wasnTt ready to leave.I had a life here now. I was earning college credit and going for driveswith my boyfriend and eagerly making plans for when I graduated.But I knew that there was no way we weren't moving. [ wasnTt the onlyone who had suffered from small town politics, subpar schools and in-stitutions, and a lack of opportunities. My family wouldnTt think twiceabout leaving after what we had been through.eerThatTs great!? I replied again. It was somewhat enthusiastic.The next day at school, I broke the news to Zach.We stood in the middle of the hallway and just stared at each other.He was speechless. I was tearful.We watched each other silently, both in our own heads.oWhat do you think we should do?? I asked hesitantly.Zach looked at me sadly and anxiously, seeming to have a millionthoughts rushing through his head.oT guess...we'll have to break up then...,? he replied uncertainly, un-sure of what I was thinking.64 | Fictioncm dl z 3 4 © 6 at 8 S| 10 iil lee Ls: 14

cmI felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. The thought of breakingup with the best friend I had survived everything with"that I hadfallen in love with"was more than I could handle.oBut...why?? I asked, my voice cracking. His face was tense, scrunched up.oWell...,? he started, still speaking as if disoriented, oyouTre going tolive in Sou Caro lias now. ?oSo?!? I shot back desperately. oWho cares? We can still make it work!I can come back over the summer and at Christmas...we would justhave to date long- distance until we graduated, like a year and a half.?I was half-convincing myself that we could ele make that work.oMaybe...,? he said, his eyes blank. I leaned in and hugged him as heslowly wrapped his arms around me.Later that night, he called me. oI changed my mind,? he started,talking quickly, oI donTt want to break up. I want to make this work.?He paused. oITm really sorry for saying that earlier. I canTt even imag-ine my life without you.? I could tell he was genuine.I smiled into the receiver despite a looming sadness of future separation.oYou have no idea how glad I am to hear that.?It was the day after Christmas...our scheduled moving day. All day,we heaved boxes into a U-Haul truck and packed away the presents wehadjust opened. It was an all-day job of taping, packing, heaving, ma-neuvering, and reorganizing"a task that lasted long after the sun had set.With just a few boxes to go until we were on the road, I stood out in ourgravel driveway. It was pitch black outside, save the stars and two street-lights lining our dead-end road. I looked around me"-the ground wascovered in a blank slate of snow. I shivered in my light jacket.I couldnTt believe this was happening"that I was moving away fromthe house I had lived in for ten years, out of the school district I hadloathed for so long, away from the loving boyfriend I had grown so close to.Maybe it was all a good thing.I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. With numb hands, I pulled itout and unlocked it.oWhen are you eee! read the text from Zach.oAny minute now. :(? 1 replied.oPm driving by in just a few minutes. Stand outside,? he texted.oOkay, Pil look for you, I texted back.I walked into the snow, halfway across a field that led to the main roadthat our road branched from. I stood alone in the middle of a coldwhite field and waited for his car. After about five minutes, I saw a silvercar driving 10 mph under the speed limit past our road and past thefield. Quietly, I raised my arm and waved slowly but largely so he couldsee me. The car was almost at a stop in the road now.I shaped my hands into a heart and held them in the air, unsure ifFiction. 65

cmhe could even see them in this lightless world. From his rolled-downwindow, he stuck his hand out the passenger side window, making the oIlove you? sign.I smiled, my hands still in the air, my eyes already beginning to water.Slowly, the car crawled down the road, ZachTs hand still out of the win-dow signaling at me. He was almost out of sight now. I put my handsdown and waved. He was gone.I stood there for a moment in the snow, not sure what I should do. I felta few tears run down my face, but I wiped them away""I didnTt wanteveryone to see me Cry.I looked up at the stars"they were brighter than usual tonight, despitehow far away they were. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Iknew it was time to go.I thought about the past few years in just a few seconds. I could neverforget what happened, the rough way my story had begun...but I coulddecide how it would end.I turned on my heel and trudged back to the house"a little sad, a littlescared, a little calm.66 | Fiction

Fiction | 6719ils14iSleeIba10cm

ERIKA DIETRICKThe Grand FinaleFiction68 | FictionA small, powerless planet within the universe is nothing but a speck ona black canvas. Despite our best efforts"our courage, cunning, andcommitment"we are once again just a bunch of puppets in a play,forced to do and say and believe and love as our puppeteers command us.This isnTt new""weTre used to the constant tug and pull, the loss andtemporary gain of freedom.The Behemians decided that oBlair? was a good name for a puppet. |decided that oBitches? was a good name for my puppeteer re | aucssnames that start with oBTs? is one thing that we have in common.We eat their food and wear their clothes and listen to their music. Wefight and die for their beliefs and take care of their children... and yet,they hold their heads high, smile at one another and say how well theyhave treated us, how itTs like we were never even conquered, simplyliving in harmony"They will see what they want to see.Commander Bitch is on her way, along with Assistant Bitch. She hasheard what I have done.I donTt hide behind my curtains as usual, but instead open my frontdoor"I even wave. I see Commander scowl from inside her guarded,tinted car.At the door now, she is merely half a foot in front of me"a distancemeant to intimidate me...if her head even came to my shoulders.oYou have slandered my good work in your article,? she states as fact.oIT brought it to light,? I reply simply. oIt is my job to enlighten thepublic.?oIt has put you in a terribly uncomfortable situation,? she shoots backtensely, firmly.Smiling, oI feel more at ease then I have in years.? My thoughts, myworde othese are things I will not let you control, I thought. Assis-tantTs eyes widen, anticipating the backlash. The hand with whichCommander grips her gun turns deathly white. My stomach lurches.Rapidly, I ramble to fill the deafening silence. oYou can try your entire

life to make us forget who we are, but I will always remember thetruth. Your grandkids and your grandkidsT grandkids can try fightingus and taking from us, but theyTll never own us. Control of our livesisnTt enough to control our spirit.? I pause, swallowing angrily. oYouTllnever own me.?Commander yanks her gun from its holster, and I kick her square inthe stomach"~her finger pulls the trigger a moment too late, shatteringmy front window. I start sprinting down the street.Swallowing air like sweet candy, pumping my arms and legs, I knowthey will find me-"I know I will die soon.But for the first time in my entire life, I am free.Fiction | 69

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cmERIKA DIETRICKMonday MorningNon-FictionTheir footsteps do not make a sound...and why would they, sparselyspread out along the sidewalks with hung heads and shuffling shoes?Emotionless, faceless sleepwalkers.My head is hung and my shoes are shuffling, with a scenic view of thecracks in the sidewalk, thinking about nothing and everything at thesame time. Crack...crack...crack...check phone, crack...tired, crack...donTt want to (crack) go... Suddenly, as if shooting up from underwa-ter, I realize that there is no noise"silence. A campus of about 27,000students is completely and utterly silent.I realize now that I am breaking some unwritten rule by watching thestudying the patterns in the sidewalk.I think if someone were to break the barrier of silence, like a wreckingball bashing through an unstable home, I wouldnTt hear it"itTs as if Iam on the other side of a glass wall""I can see someone on the otherside shouting and beating on the glass with a closed fist, but I hearnothing. ItTs as if my ears have folded over, theyTre full of cotton balls,theyTve been chopped off...or as if I am wearing iPod headphones.ITm not wearing headphones, but I wish I were-"then I would havea rhythm to follow other than the predictable melody of muteness.Calm and quiet is nice, but zombiehood is decidedly not.ItTs 8:30 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I am walking to class whilementally cuddled up in my bed, enjoying a few more moments ofthoughtless inactivity and solitude.

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ERIKA DIETRICKMas Despacio, Por FavorNon-FictionIt is extremely lonely to be in a foreign country that speaks another lan-guage. Not only can I not communicate with people my age to makefriends, but I cannot say the day-to-day things I need when talking to acashier, a taxi driver, a police officer. Everyday tasks that were habitual andthoughtless in America are now a source of struggle and anxiety. Peopleare not patient, and they are not understanding. After a handful of times ofbeing laughed at in a store or scoffed at for not being able to speak Spanishcorrectly, you begin to find ways to avoid interaction. I donTt mean to do it,but I do. I hate getting looks that say ostupid American,? and itTs embar-rassing to be in a room full of Spanish-speaking people when you cannotunderstand a sales clerk or a waiter. ItTs embarrassing because even thoughSpanish is not my first language, people hear my rudimentary sentencestructure and just assume that ITm stupid. They donTt think, oOh, sheTs justlearning how to speak another language, and she doesnTt know how to saymuch yet.? No, they laugh"and not in a loving, poor-girl-itTs-okay-we-un-derstand way, but in a youTre-an-American-and-you-obviously-donTt-know-any-Spanish,-you re-not-wanted-here kind of way. Not everyone, of course,but a lot of people. A tip from one of my Spanish professors? Just tell them tospeak more slowly so that you can understand them, she said. Mads despacio, por favor.For asking them to speak more slowly, I get the double prize of a harshlaugh and an eye roll.I have always felt sorry for people in America who donTt know how tospeak English for this very same reason, but now I can truly feel their pain.People in America scoff, and they like to say, oWhy donTt they just learn ourlanguage?? Well, I have taken up that challenge in another country, and theanswer is this: you canTt learn a language overnight, and many of the peoplearound you arenTt going to help you along the way. Many of the peoplearound you are going to make you feel worthless and stupid""many of thepeople around you are going to try to scam you and take advantage of you.Many of the people around you are going to tell you to go back where youcame from, and many of the people around you are going to call you namesthat they think that you canTt understand.oSo, who cares?? say some people. oWho cares if they think you're stu-pid?? Well, thatTs a lot easier to say when youTre surrounded by otherEnglish-speaking people. ~UhatTs a lot easier to say when youTre not com-pletely on your own, without family or friends, without familiar ways of lifeand social customs, without a place where you can return to at night andrecharge your confidence.Those people are right-"you shouldn't let other people make you feel stu-pid. But thatTs a lot easier said than done.116 | Non-Fiction

ERIKA DIETRICKSaturday StressNon-FictionThe ongoing drone of television noises echoing from downstairs.SLASH, POW! POW!...BOOM! sounding from the room beside me,each onomatopoeia a hammer incessantly banging against the wall be-side my head. I, in my room, writing, really just sitting here. A typicalnight at my familyTs house.Thinking about how my Chemistry homework isnTt due until Monday,but how it will probably take me most of one day, so I should really bestarting it soon. tonight? No, Pll put it on the list for tomorrow. Oh,and I for got that that Biology lab report is due Tuesday, and I reallywon't have time to work on it on Monday, so I should write that down,too. I didnTt study Spanish very much, so I definitely need to catch upon that. And it wouldnTt hurt to actually read the assigned pages beforethe lecture on Monday...hmm, what else... my room is a mess. I stillhavenTt applied for that scholarship. I can do that after my volunteertrip...man, canTt he turn those videogames down?? Ugh, okay well,this is a long list, T'm not sure if ITm going to be able to get this alldone.. aay, the only way I will get this done is if I plan out my wholeday. ItTs 11:00 p.m., so I have 30 minutes to plan before I go down-stairs to watch SNL. Or should I just take a shower? I really need ashower...but...Pll just take it in the morning. This list is so long, I re-ally need to devote my time to Chemistry aoe first priority tomorrow.Okay, think. Okay, maybe this would be a good time to map out mycourses for next year.. J should j just write them all down...I can takePhysics next semester, Organic, ao ..but wait, thatT sa lot Pll justthrow a drawing class in there and Exercise, too...ahh okay I'll look atthe rest later, plan tomorrow...Chemistry 1", lab report 24, Spanish3° read during lunch...my heart is pounding. Breathe in...breathe out...still pounding. I need to Google ways to manage anxiety...oh, itTs11:30-"TTll just take my laptop downstairs with me, Ill look up anxietyand then ITll check my e-mail while I watch SNL with them...SNL isnTt very funny tonight, Facebook just for a pong © .Like-LikeLike, sc roll, haha, oh my Oa is |:00 a.m! I haventshowered, I havenTt gotten anything done, I have so much to do ohtomorrow is going to suck...Non-Fiction |

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Poetrycm ie eeAMELIA GAGEDinosaurs in the SoundHe wakes to the sound of electricitysoft and constant like hummingbird wingsjust below the sound of his heartbeatpatiently plugging away from the corner machineand he knows heTs not at home.HeTs in the hospital again.The fog must be the morphinethe pound must be his headHe wonders aloud if heTs ever treated his life the way that machinetreats his heart-detached.Unsympathetically reporting in,beating with no purpose just repeating the last verse...again.Through the window is a view of the sound,where the morning mist plays tricks on the mindThis isnTt a Christmas Carol tale of ghosts and chainsjust chain link fence andlong steel necks of container cranes that bow along the side of thesoundMy father"watches them approach each day,bend and graze like herd animals long gone.he says they should be extinct but damn if it ainTt something to see.He misses his world,tells me that when youTre sick you develop your own gravitational pullbut only if youTre lucky""and he must be lucky.At home, its the cats and the dogs that surround him like the Pietaand even though he suspects its to draw the warmth from his burningbodyhe appreciates the company.In here, he says its the same, just on a larger scale-pulling family from their lives to orbit his bedHe sayTs weTre louder than the dogs but thenhe cracks a smile and for a moment I can see the man I grew up admiring.He says thereTs a hole in his heart where his love used to be.I think about how I tried to fill that void in my youthnot knowing that there was nothing I could do to lessen the weight ofcynicism that he would eventually wear like a shroud,126 | Poetryls

cmaround his laughter heTs still a class clownAn artist with a painted face and an eye for coloreven now, ITve seen the blood in his pale cheeks so often he looksalmost normal.HeTs looking at the world like a series of compositions.Had us stand by his bedside while he got out his fish eyeso that we could See how he was feeling.View finders canTt find what youTre looking for, he saysyou have to know how to make them see what you can andbased on this last roll"I guess heTs feeling a little over-exposed.The shutter speed on his heart is set a little slowbut thatTs alright ocause too much light can wash out your photo,but the same should never be said about love.He knows.He lifted his hands that have never looked natural empty,more sunspots on his knuckles than his face,Said look, just there, while the sun is lowCan you imaginethere are dinosaurs out the window.Poetry | 129iS14ilsIt

Poetrycm ie eeAMELIA GAGETrigger Warning (| Should Have Said)Being with you was like washing dishes without platesJust hands in hot water thinking maybewith enough leverage I could call it cleana clean break in my spine from where you made a habit of bending meinto your favorite shapesI should have told you I hated bridges.I much prefer towers on horizons but I had you confusedwith Kali, who stomped on VishuTs chest until he nearly bled to deathlike him, I threw myself beneath you so that you would hurt me andnothing else you lovedblind with rage and beautifulI thought you would stop.I still have days where I think I should have let you kill meSurvivorTs guilt is an invisible illnessI joke about trigger warnings like paragraphs haven't brought me tomy kneesAll the towers ITve built since leaving you are scarred at the founda-tions from shallow breathingand light sleepingin the corner where I can always see you coming.You are not Kali.She started the world with her dancingI should have known that that was me!I drank the blood of Racktavijah and lost my way in the windmills ofmy limbsthe whole time I was with you I was drunk and though it was you I wasdrinkingI should have told you I wasnTt thirsty.Meeting you was a twist of fate I should have ironed straightwhen you asked me my nameI should have saidNothing.14ilsI

cmOut there, embossed shadows of menStamp on through a still tender Night,Past a still molten sun againstA sky of withered anthracite.Internecine floods bite their flanksAnd yet onward attrition stemsThem across the hypabyssalVistas, those landscapes it condemns.Those stoic, marching bas-reliefs,TheyTre homage to all darkened souls,Shaded cold by trespassing wounds,And livened by the deep drum rolls.Soundless, out into oil dark pools,Climbing up over crag and sootThey march atop that wretched land;The true tired, the poor, underfoot.Down, clustered above the briarsTightly wound around the keystonesOf crumbled courts and blasted gates,An ageTs spent, dishonored bones.Athwart the sea 1s the party,Spreading their purposeful diction;Here, a numberless troop gone toAffirm their violent conviction.In the progress of savages,Nervous out there, all in tandemGo those hid dissidents marching,Calling out Corupedium!Their arms change, become sticks sharpened,Moving wildly and unmannedYet in concert, one great shadowGravely brazed on the crimson sand.When the reddened air and slaked earthHave become nothing but the same,Back to vast, empyreal fleetsThey shall go, all made free again.10ALEX RODRIGUEZCorupediumPoetryIbaleePoetryiSLt14ty2lilsIL

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Rebel 56 StaffEditorAssistant EditorDesignersFaculty AdvisorPhotographyStudent MediaFilm CrewCopy EditorsMegan BurnsJacqueline McAdamsAbby RarigAmanda CardenCraig MalmroseHenry Stindt PhotographicJohn HarveyYvonne MoyeStudent Media BoardEvan KiddBrian KorffCraig MalmroseLisa Beth RobinsonAngela WellsRebel 56 | 177

cmProduction NotesPrinterEditionPressStockTypography178 | Rebel 56Theo Davis Printing2,000 booksKomori Lithrone S40Cover: Neenah CLASSIC Linen cover, 130|b.Text: Inspire Earth dull text, 100lb.BaskervilleBodoniGill Sansm ®Se MIXPaper fromresponsible sourcesEe FSC*® C01578214ils16

Special ThanksMarcos AlicesJohn DixonThe East CarolinianHolly GarriottJohn HarveyEvan KiddKate LaMereCraig MalmroseYvonne MoyeFrank PulleyChris StansburyHenry StindtGunnar SwansonPhillip WinnPitt County Arts Council at EmergeTheo Davis PrintingUniversity Printing and GraphicsOur professors, families, friends, andanyone whom we might have left out.Rebel 56, 1/9

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CopyrightRebel 56 is produced by and for the students of East CarolinaUniversity. Offices are located within Student Media in theSelf-Help Building. The contents are copyrighted 2013 and2014 by Rebel 56. All rights revert to the individual artists andwriters upon publication. Contents may not be reproducedby any means, nor stored in any information retrieval systemwithout written permission of the artist or writer. Printedwith non-state funds.Rebel 56 | 181

East Carolina University.4Rebel is a division of Student MediaSSstions or comments to rebel@ecu.eduvaoctendUs)=oeBe)o)Giae&aASt=IiSleeIba10cm

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