Issue VII

Spinning stories and poems from the depths of our minds can be overwhelming. On top of that, correct grammar can add another layer of stress. And when trying to write down that super amazing idea as fast as possible before it slips your mind, who has time for proper grammar? Maybe the way you capitalize and create sentences is to give the reader an enhanced reading experience. For those who struggle with concepts like proper capitalization, end and dialogue punctuation, these tips will hopefully help you gain knowledge of grammar (and not sound like a lecturing teacher).

Tip 1: Professional Yapper

Dialogue can be a key building block to a story—it can even be incorporated into poetry. Dialogue pushes the plot forward, adding character development and depth to the story. It can help uncover a mystery the story is based on, build the love story of pining characters, anything that comes to mind! The words said from characters—or the writer, depending on what kind of writing—builds mass, putting together a framework for reader’s to enjoy and resonate with. Adding punctuation like commas, periods, or em dashes can advance the plot. Periods show the character is done talking, commas show there may be more for the character to say or show who’s talking. Em dashes can show interruption or the character getting a new idea mid-sentence. Be sure to add the right punctuation to make sure your readers know how the character reacts and feels!

Tip 2: Capitalization is Key

Every sentence starts with a capital letter. It’s an integral part of grammar and writing in general. Some letters and words can hold importance with capitalization. Imbuing your writing with meaningful capitalization can add the emphasis you’re looking for. Capitalizing a certain object makes it sound like the one and only, an oddity in its singularity. Titles are also an important thing to capitalize, showing the importance of them and the weight that they carry. Whatever you deem crucial in your writing, it may be helpful to capitalize it.

Tip 3: The End. The End? The End!

Punctuation can pack a punch with just a stroke of a pen or a press of a key. They show finality, expression, and questions. Commas divvy up information to show spacing and that cat, dog, and mouse are not a mutated dog cat mouse hybrid. Ellipses, or the 3 dots conjoined together, can be used to show the trailing of a thought, or the dying of a character’s words on their tongue. Em dashes can also be used to show the interruption of a thought with a different thought or more information. However you choose to emphasize your writing, be sure to add the proper punctuation!

I walk where the sun forgets to linger,
beneath branches that clutch at the sky,
their fingers tangled—aching, reaching—
like mine, but finding nothing.

The air is damp with silence,
pressing against my chest,
while shadows curl around my ankles,
like whispers I cannot understand.

I search for footprints, for echoes—
but the path behind me swallows itself,
and the trees only answer with stillness,
rooted in a language of loneliness.

I search for footprints, for echoes—
but the path behind me swallows itself,
and the trees only answer with stillness,
rooted in a language of loneliness.

The wind hums low, a hollow tune,
threading through brittle branches,
and I wonder if it carries a name—
but it is not mine.

My breath curls like smoke in the cold,
drifting upward, then gone—
as if even the air forgets I was here.
I press on, though the roots snarl like traps.

I press on, though the night weighs heavy,

and the stars blink like distant strangers.

Each step is a question:

Will I always walk alone?

I was alone. I walked for miles, trudging through snow. It’s the journey every teen girl has had to make. Thick, opaque fog over my senses. It blurred the lines between what was me, and what was the air. I was lost in the environment, nowhere to go. The only thing I felt was insecurity. Unsure of where I was, even more confused on who I was. That’s when he found me. 

My senses were disarmed, my heart was trusting of the wind, and my brain was too cold from the blizzard, yet he accepted me. Juxtaposed to the landscape that challenged me.

When you are as lost as I was, you’d let anything guide you. The weather was so harsh, so cruel. Natural, yet somehow unfair. I wanted to be safe again, to be treated like I was delicate. I just didn’t believe I could make it through any more steps in the frigid climate. 

When he showed me how he glides, I was in disbelief. How easily he does it, like he was a master from the start. When you see him, you just can’t imagine him small. With someone that smart, that knowledgeable, I had trusted him almost immediately.

I was there, my ill-fitting shoes making me almost slip, my legs like a new-born fawn. Everything was so cold, my body shaking, I just wanted a break. 

He took my hand, and slid across the frozen lake with me. I had found what I wanted. To be treated like I was vulnerable, for someone to show me what it’s like to be a professional. 

For days and days, that was all I did. I held his hand tightly, like our mittens were sewn together, and we glided. I had so much fun at first. He was warm, the only warmth I had ever found on this journey. We found new places to ice-skate together, making hearts into the frozen water with the blades on our feet. He always said he never wanted to go on the popular paths, the popular lakes. People there just didn’t know how to really skate, he said. 

He would show me all the fun and cool tricks. When he did them, he looked like leaves falling from the dead trees and dancing with the wind. There were plenty of moves that were foolish to believe I could do, many I didn’t even want to, they were unbelievably dangerous. But he said I should do them anyway. Girls like you haven’t found their style yet, you need to explore and find yourself, he said. I would trip, slip, fall on my face. A big red mark on my cheek for the rest of the day. He would laugh, but tell me it's okay, nobody saw that anyway. 

After a while, I would get sick. Falling on ice and snow, spending hours and hours dancing in the cold. I would sneeze and cough, the flem coming straight from my heart. He said he was worried, but after he had found me, he couldn’t let me go. So I’d be sick, running a fever, but I’d still glide. I didn’t know what else to do. Everytime we went out together, dressed in layers to protect ourselves from the unstoppable sleet and hail, we held hands. That’s why even when I was sick, I would go skate with him. I needed his warmth. I didn’t know who I was without him. 

Eventually Summer comes. It’s a small break from the constant subzero temperature. You’re able to go outside and walk without slipping on the icy slush. He stops visiting me, since there are no more lakes to dance on, and no more wind to guide us for the time being. I usually love the summer, but this summer just felt dreadful. I waited eagerly each day of it, waiting to go back to the cold freezing season again. Without the snow, he didn’t visit. Even with the warm air, his tender warmth was different. He knew where I was, so he could find me again.

But as the seasons changed, he never did. I never knew where he went. I waited, wearing my mittens and ice-skates, waited for him to emerge from the layers of pale fog and white snow, and waited for him to find me. He never did. 

When I realised he was never coming, I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck in an ice-age. Never moving. My body was stuck in a glacier, covered with snow. I couldn’t move myself. I needed him to make me glide. On the path, many other girls passed me. They knew how to walk by themselves, how to balance themselves, and how to not fall on the snow. 

Many laughed and teased, but they didn’t understand. They weren’t given the graceful teachings of him, and I was the luckiest to have found him.

I spent most of that winter eternally stuck in place. I looked, I watched others move along the journey, but I never did. I slept in the frost that had formed around me. 

Once I opened my eyes. My skin was pale and blue, more snow than a girl. From the corner of my eye, I swore it was him. His coat, his mittens, his skater shoes. He was walking away, passing me, going further on the path. My heart soared, an intense warmth igniting in me. I finally took my first steps that winter. Trudging, weak, but they were steps. Steps into gliding, skating on the path of ice. I tried to catch up to him, but he had eventually disappeared from my sight. Everything white and grey again, fog and snow. 

But it was then that I had found something in me. I could walk on my own. I could skate on my own. I could make my own warmth. 

I spent the rest of that day skating with myself. Not any of his cool tricks that he had taught me. Just dancing like myself, with the wind. The wind guided me, not him. I felt free. Of course, I still miss him. But I had found myself. I didn’t need him.

When laughter and faces,

Familiar since birth,

Turn harsh and loud

With a cruel heart.

Unguided—

Falling through the cracks

Of a world steeped in darkness.

Strings wrapped ‘round fingers

Pulled to a fro

Taut from exertion.

A home without light,

Naught but ice,

Slivers that dig into 

Skin.

Pushing through the darkness,

A liquid shadow

That pulls at my arms,

Tugging, tugging.

I break through the surface,

Finding purchase in warmth.

The loving embrace,

An open heart.

These faces I’ve known,

Each one its own,

A mirror of passion,

Of care,

Of fondness.

Warm embraces,

Growing smiles.

A family of my own

Creation.