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East Carolina University
Arts & Literary Catalogue
2016-2017
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VISUAL & COMMUNICATION ARTS
MEGAN MAXWELL
Greenville Museum of Art
Operations and Programs Director
SARA BROWN
Instructor, Pitt Community College
Concentration: Metals
DAN BLACK
Strategic Marketing & Design
Concentration: Graphic Design
FILM & ANIMATION
WAYNE GODWIN
Associate Professor, East Carolina University
Concentration: Animation
LITERARY
TIMM HACKETT
Teaching Instructor, East Carolina University Professor
ChildrenTs Literature & Computers and Composition
STAFF
LIZ REED
Editor-in-Chief
SVILY SRINLEY
Designer
MESEDITH SMITH
Designer
AMANDA ADKINS
General Manager
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D). of rain splattered a soft tattoo against the tile patio, dribbling
down the glass door from the hole in the vinyl gutter. The street lampTs
dull glow streamed sluggishly through the glass, filtered through the
waving reflection on the pool to dance across the living room sofa.
The hushed rumbling of thunder rolled through the house. Abe's hold
on the bottle loosened as his head intermittently bobbed and
touched his chest.
He stretched in his seat and sat the bottle back on the coaster next to
the couch. He wiped the water beads from the bottle onto his tanned Garrett S. Yarbrough
face and hoped to stay awake long enough to see the end of the game Whispers of Descent
through which he had been weaving in and out of consciousness.
oThatTs the last time-out for the Mountaineers in the third quarter.
TempleTs leading, when we come back to ESPN U....�
Abe yawned. He scratched his salt and pepper beard, more salt than
the latter. The undulating patter of the storm outside lulled him back
into his tired trance. His eyes fluttered and he gave up the ghost, and
reclined on the couch.
The glow of distant lightning was prompted with a crack that resounded
through the house, accompanied with rolling thunder. Abe popped up
with a snort and peered at the television through leaden lids. Bright,
vivid colors and rowdy laughter blasted from the screen as the Wiggles
jittered across the stage. Startled, he clasped his hands to his ears and
scrambled for the remote next to his beer.
His hand slid off the table and he bolted upright. He checked
underneath the table and on the armrest, but it was nowhere to be
found. The luminescent green buttons of the remote caught Abe's eye,
on the armchair next to the sofa. With a forlorn grimace, he turned
down the volume and switched it to The Weather Channel from the
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Popping and clanking as eerie as that of a settling ship groaned from
the shadowy mass of trash cans outside. He stepped to the front
door, unlatched it, and peered around the corner of the glass storm
door. The bins were just outside his view, but the steady whumping
continued against the house. Abe pushed open the door handle.
He slipped into the drizzle, statuesque as his eyes flitted from the bins
to the blind corner around the houseTs edge. Water trickled between
AbeTs toes as the soaked lawn leached through his socks. With a
brilliant flash of lightning, the rattling stopped with an emphatic, steely
crash and the lights flicked off inside the house. He prodded the still
trash cans, both full of water and garbage, and proved hard to budge
with just his one hand.
Hair pricked up on the back of his neck as a chilled itch crept up his
spine. Abe shuffled to face the road. About a block away, a solitary
street lamp cast an orange glow across the slick pavement. The streaks
of rain were highlighted against the bulb, interrupted by a child-sized
dark figure standing stock-still against the crisp drops.
The creeping sensation prickled up the base of AbeTs skull at the sight
of the silhouette. His mouth dried and he gulped. He peered intently
at it, all the while he hoped it would just move. He racked his brain
for any similar feelings, but nothing he had ever seen, two tours in
the Middle East included, could match the uncanny feeling of chilling
unease he felt standing, staring at that unnaturally small figure as the
wind began to howl and whisper through the pines above him.
Abe did not dare avert his eyes from that figure that looked identical
to a child, familiar to him, but stood too rigid, too still for someone that
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young, without even a hint of breath raising its chest, but the wind
continued to breathe life into the trees above him and they murmured
and whispered what he was afraid to find out. The rasping of the brush
flowed like the cool desert sand in the night, the same furtive secrets
that could mean life or death. The nights with the bellowing wind held
the most Insidious threats, and inside his tent, Abe could not tell if
the sand spoke of the unforgiving dunes or of glistening knives in the
darkness. Through the narrow view outside the tent flap, he saw eight
black silhouettes standing at the crest of the ridge, illuminated by the
Stark moon. The men asleep behind him gurgled the same deathly
warning as the whispering sand. The treesT mutterings grew louder
and louder in the bellowing wind but none of their voices could speak
over the other, but each leaf and needle tried to warn Abe of what
watched him from across the street, not reflected in the pooling rain.
Abe jolted at the sudden peal of the trash cans behind him. He
jumped backwards at the drop of a dime to face the cans. A small
black Labrador darted from the bins between his legs. He whirled
around, back to the road. The shadow had vanished, but a track of
wet footprints glistened in the lightning, going through his door into the
gaping darkness of his house.
Apprehension welled up inside Abe, but did not weigh him down. He
Snapped the door locked behind him with unwavering hands. His
fingers rested on a brass candelabra on the bookshelf next to the door.
He wielded it ahead of him, ready to club whatever lurked in the dark
with bated breath.
His heart pounded raggedly against his chest. He couldn't see a thing
in the dark save for the streetlampTs scarce light. His ears perked
against the oppressive blackness as he brushed his hands along the
doorways to slink into the kitchen.
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Faint laughter carried through the hallway. Abe seized up. Murmured
giggles drifted from the top of the stairs and froze him to the core. His
~ heart thudded slower and slower. Numbing fear chilled his heart and
| Staggered his breath. He quietly pulled out the butcher block drawer,
withdrew a tapered knife and flashlight, and set the candelabra down
onto the counter.
With a soft click, the light swathed through the dark. It offered a
momentary relief. Abe knew that whatever skulked ahead of him
hadnTt shown itself. But the stark fear of what lay outside his tunneled
vision paled him ash white and staggered his tenacious heart to keep
his blood from running cold.
Abe treaded to the base of the steps. He aimed the light at the top of
| i the staircase, but nothing stared back. The titters and high-pitched
ik mumblings got louder as he crept. The unintelligible murmuring
rose to warbling wails and flooded AbeTs ears until he couldnTt hear
(|!| the fervent thump, thumping of his own heart. As soon as he finally
; crested the topmost step, the cries fell away.
4
He held the knife under the base of the flashlight, his mind already
Snapped back to the raids within the ominous dark of the dusty
mountains. He scoured the upstairs hallway, jiggled the handles
of all four doors. All of them unlocked except one"as he left it. He
scrutinized his bedroom, and sifted through the envelopes on top of
his safe. He thumbed through them to make sure they were accounted
for: a bill for a small casket, divorce papers, and a life insurance policy.
All there, in that order, although he wished more than anything he
did not have any of them. Abe did not find anything missing, and he
locked the envelopes inside the safe, so at least they would be gone
from his sight.
The rest of the house followed suit: nothing out of place. A panic still
clawed at the back of AbeTs mind no matter how much he assured
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himself. He sidled up to the sink and splashed water on his face. i
He gazed at his haggard face in the mirror. More thin streaks were Ht
furrowed into his forehead and cheeks than he remembered, but Hh
granted, more wisps of gray tore through his black shocks of hair than
heTd like to think as well. The gritted, ropy scar that twined from his
jaw to his jugular slithered beneath the skin, and whispered only to {I
him. Abe slapped it. He sighed with exasperation and rested his head
against the cool glass. He knew it would be daylight before he would
be able to sleep soundly.
The grumbles of thunder rolled closer and closer until the rumbling
grew to roaring. The wind whipped the rain into the windows with
sharp smacks. With a stout glass of whiskey in hand, he ventured out
into the dreary night to sit beneath the draping crimson umbrella on |
the patio across the pool. Abe sat there and plainly watched the house.
Something still nagged at him and evaded detection no matter how |
hard he dug and pried into himself. |
So he sat, his gaze listless. The soulless windows of what used to be
the home he renovated out of a ramshackle ruin bored into him. The |
house was alien to Abe and he couldn't feel comfortable, despite how HL
he built it to fulfill his dreams. Pacing it alone every night in an effort to
understand every inch did nothing to make it feel remotely like a home, \
somewhere that he could find some lingering love from his family that
left him behind. Even with the chirps of the songbirds and sunlight (i
that streamed in through the windows at the glow of dawn on Saturday |
morning, an underlying edge of unsettledness scraped at him, and the
eerie throngs of the nearby chapel and caws of the crows in the night |
had felt more corporeal to Abe once he began to live alone. ii
The lights that danced through the streetlamps in the trees winked
across the shivering swimming pool at AbeTs feet. Like the stars that |
twinkle above the splitting thunderheads, the pool glistened with |
dozens of eyes that blinked their tallow eyes, eyes that latched their |
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barbs into AbeTs face and twisted into his skull. The thorns tore at his
eyes and hands, ensnared him, his neck gushing over their razors.
Gibbering shouts behind him chilled his blood, and he flailed his
way through the labyrinthine briars, the blotted stars above his only
compass. The rushing of water ahead gave him his last surge, and he
heaved himself forward, the stringy meat from his bones tearing off in
ribbons, until he tumbled into the riverTs yellowed, blinking eyes.
An ear-splitting clap of thunder ripped the sky above Abe and forced
him to wince. The fierce lightning sprayed from the fissure and a
Shadow was thrown against the upstairs windows as it skulked down
the hallway.
AbeTs blood ran cold and his clammy palms closed around the flashlight
and knife once again. The torrential flurry of rain perforated his body
while his numb-laden legs shambled ahead of him. He scrambled
through the sliding glass door, slammed into a tall oak bookshelf, and
dashed unfazed down the corridor to the stairs. The shelf tottered
once and sent a trifold picture frame to the floor. Glass tinkled out of
the three rustic-tinged panels and the photographs of Abe, a slender
woman with vibrant red hair, and a beaming boy with AbeTs emerald
eyes furled out from their clasps.
He skidded at the top of the steps and nearly sent the stuffed sheep
that rested at the top of the banister careening to the wooden floor
a story down. Abe fumbled with the keys, and rigidly twisted each
doorknob to find three empty rooms.
A muffled speaking echoed from behind the final door with a bright
blue sign tacked to it that read oZacky� in orange rounded letters,
like the hushed whispers of children late into the night. AbeTs head
ligntened and spun as he licked his dry, pursed lips.
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With a mellow crackling, power returned to the house. The television | i
downstairs erupted with noise. An overzealous evangelist bellowed the i
words of the divine and the heavens seemed to agree and crashed and | I
boomed and clapped. The house flooded with stark white light each |
second as the lightning flashed and blazed through the darkness and i
blanched Abe and the door black and white. More than trepidation 14)
anchored him in place. Regret and remorse for what spoke to him |
from the other side corroded him from his core, kept his eyes open
every night and liquor in his blood. But Abe knew deeply that what was
in that room was the part of him that could fix his shattered soul. Each ) |
thunderclap illuminated the knob in front of his hand in tandem with | |
his heart"boom, baboom, boom, baboom, baboom, baboom.
Thunder and lightning ruptured the house, the preacher blared with |
all his fervor and intensity until his voice cracked, the rain pounded |
the tin roof and walls until they felt like they would surely cave in, hi
the wailing within the room screeched until Abe couldn't stand It any
longer and threw upon the door. i
The room was as undisturbed as Abe had left it six months ago. The |
toys were splayed in in a haphazard array, peppering the floor. The roar |
of it all ripped into AbeTs head, the thunder, crying, and commanding )
stabbed into his head from all sides until they couldnTt yell over each |
other, and poured into one solitary pounding that came from inside | |
AbeTs chest until a deafening shriek cried from behind Abe. ll
He whipped around only to catch the small feet that tumbled over the |
side of where the railing was missing. Abe sprinted to the edge to see | |
a childTs crumpled body in a heap on the hardwood floor. Hi
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He rushed headlong down the precipitous staircase to collapse next |
to the buckled form. A strained gurgled cry escaped from his throat.
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He cradled the child holding the bloodied stuffed animal from the
| bannister, and his hands were drenched in the blood that gushed from
! the boyTs head and stained his silvery blond hair a brilliant red. AbeTs
| pleading eyes tried to catch his sonTs that flitted around wildly, but he
knew Zacky could not see a thing. He tried to clasp the boyTs swinging
arms, but Zacky weakly pounded on AbeTs chest in an attempt to push
himself away. AbeTs resolve was washed away at the sound of his sonTs
| hitched yelps to crawl away from the scarred man that grew clearer
| within the mirrors that ZackyTs eyes became.
The stormTs furor fell away, only for one voice to scream through the
{ living room before dying out, oAnd now | know you fear God!�
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oZa"Lacky, hey, look at me! Zacky, come on, Zack look here. |Tm right
| \ here Zack. Maggy, call nine-one-one! MAGGY! Maggy get the phone!
al Daddy's here Zacky, daddyTs here. Zack, donTt look over there, Zack,
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| look in my eyes Zack, talk to me Zacky! Why won't you look at Daddy,
ails Zacky? Please! Please"please....�
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| He stammered and cupped his sonTs porcelain face in his rough
hands, watching the last of the glimmer leave his dulled green eyes.
Despite AbeTs unjust excess of life, he wished he could pour the same
emerald sparkle back into ZackyTs. But AbeTs eyes were poison; they
' had not glinted with a trace of life for years. His gaunt face slacked in
horror, and slapped his bloodied hands to his head, scrunching his
eyes shut while the tears cascaded red rivulets as they streamed down
his grizzled cheeks.
Thunder sounded from a distance. The rainTs raw tempo dwindled to
a lulled plink. Abe screwed his eyes open to a dust-caked wood floor.
He craned his head upward to see the shoddy ply board tacked to
the gapped banister. Drained glass bottles were scattered across the
living room like worship idols among the warped newspapers on the
kitchen table.
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Abe picked up the collection of wet envelopes and magazines that had | I
been forced through the doorTs mail slot over the past few days and i
sat them with the rest of the papers. He wiped his sallow cheeks and I
trudged upstairs. i
He drew back his nightstand drawer. The virgin moonlight gleamed {i
along the polished steely barrel of a six-shooter revolver, each of its Hi)
black eyes drawing Abe in closer until he was staring down the barrel. | i
Despite his therapistTs beseeching, he had kept one gun in the house, |
partly for safety and mostly to keep a remnant of his life that remained |
entombed in the shifting sands of the Middle East, his suburban house | |
a mirage on the horizon. He had never been afraid of guns before in
his life, but nothing had been scarier than the sleepless nights with |
that ruthless steel in the dresser, next to his head. |
He stared at the moon, and his eyes filled with that waxy glow. The gun i |
grew lighter in his hand. His son had come back. Abe felt a stirring y
ember work through his insides like charred paper scraps twisting i
from a fire. He could feel ZackyTs hair slithering between his fingers.
Those sparse golden twilight hours that had kept him tethered to his |
house, and from the burning sands that swirled outside his front door,
now wrapped his heart within its disappearing rays. And he could feel } |
it beat again in that dreamy veil before the consuming night. No matter
the circumstance, Abe realized that his son had come back to him,
and that was what his futile bargains pleaded for. i
Abe hefted the pistol back into the drawer, shut it, and flushed his
prescriptions. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled the quilt up to | |
his neck and stared up at the moon morosely, to embrace the ghosts i
that had plagued him since he stepped off the chopper and into the |
blazing heat of his own hell. Abe would live for each night among the i
regretful cries of the ravens and the mourning moans of the wolves, Hi
and pace his somber hallways to wait for the silhouette to appear i
under the lamppost"to see his son again. \
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LAUREN KERANAKIS
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