Embedded Files
Class of 2022
Chloe Clark
"The Lockers"
“How have you been? It’s been two weeks. I understand that it was a very traumatic experience.” I explained to her. “But, trust me, you are safe here. I want to find out what really happened. But, I need your help with that. You were the only other person there, and yet you did not remember much of anything in your past statement. Is there anything new that you can tell me?”
She peers down at the floor, shaking her head dolefully. Her breathing was extremely shaky, and she was twiddling her fingers.
“Alright, that’s okay. I want to help you remember. I saw the drawings that you made. You’re very creative. Is that what you see in your nightmares?” She nodded her head yes at me, still keeping from eye contact.
“Well, trust me. That’s not real. Those… monsters are not real. I promise.” She had created these monsters in her head out of something traumatic that she went through. I just need to figure out what she saw.
“Do you think that I could take you back to the place where it happened and see if that will help you remember?” I figured it was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask. We needed answers.
She stared at me blankly for about a minute until she reluctantly nodded her head.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” I ask, feeling apologetic for taking the little girl back there. She nods, looking a little more confident. I hope that answers will come from this visit, and maybe I can get her speaking again.
The building was dark and abandoned when we arrived. I held her hand as we walked inside. I was technically not supposed to take children to crime scenes, but this was an emergency. And, if it works out, I’ll know exactly what happened. We progressed past the party tables, the main stages, and the prize counters to get to this small room at the edge of the hallway. I pushed past all of the caution tape and I could tell that just seeing the room affected her demeanor. I kneeled down in front of her to be at her level.
“Do you remember being trapped in there?” I ask, pointing to the room. She follows my finger, and nods back at me.
“Okay. Do you remember what happened after that?” She gives another completely blank look; no emotion, nothing. I sigh, and flip the light switch on in the tiny storage room. There is a set of lockers on the back wall.
“Were you trapped in one of those?” I ask her, motioning to the lockers. She stands in the door frame behind me, not saying a word. “Yes? Maybe?” I ask, trying my hardest to read her unclear expressions.
“You know, it would be a lot easier if you would just talk to me.” I bluntly tell her. She gives me what I interpreted as a dirty look. I sigh again and stand up, facing back towards the lockers again. It looked like they hadn’t been touched in years, which I assumed to be true. They were mustard yellow, and honestly quite disgusting. I didn’t have an answer for why they were so large. I mean, it could fit two of this girl in there.
“Can you tell me which one you were in?” I turn back to her and ask her to point to one of the lockers. She points to the locker to the very left.
“Okay, thank you.” I say, hoping that this will get us somewhere.
“I know this might be tough, but I want you to hop inside and see if you can remember anything else.”
She looked at me in shock. I knew it was a horrible thing to ask, but I had come up with nothing else that would work. She has not spoken in two weeks, and this might just be the way to get something out of her.
“Please. Once you tell me everything, we can move on.” She kept looking at me reluctantly.
“Just get in. I know it’s scary, but it’s just you and me here.” I grabbed her hand, becoming inpatient. I almost dragged her into the locker and then shut it closed on her. I peered in from the vent holes. She stared back at me, tears rolling down her eyes.
“What? What is it?”
No response.
“Tell me why you are crying.”
No response.
“Please tell me what happened. You can trust me.”
No response.
“LOCK THE DOOR!” She heard. “I- I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
She could hear another, different voice. “We have to call the police, and an ambulance!”
“No, wait. He was always a bit unstable. He had been drinking. We just found him like this. Yes, we found him just like this, that’s what we’ll say. We found him dead in here.” The first voice spoke.
“You said it was an honest mistake, we just have to tell them what really happened.” She heard footsteps, shuffling around.
“No, don’t!”
“Come on, we need to call someone fast.”
She heard the ringing of a phone. She peered out of the locker quietly, and saw two men; one frantically calling 911 and the other slowly approaching the other from behind. She mistakenly looked down, and saw him. Another man laid dead on the floor right in front of her. After hearing the crash of a cell phone hitting the floor, she looked up and saw the man who had dropped the phone being choked out by the other.
The girl was horrified. All she could do was watch. After an excruciating few minutes, she locked eyes with the man as he dropped dead on the floor as well. He stared down at the two bodies, and the little girl watched him, not daring to make a sound. Suddenly, he started getting closer. She crouched down, hiding from him. All she had to go off of was the sound of footsteps getting increasingly louder; closer. She curled into a ball.
She heard fiddling with the lockers, and then the sound of one slamming open. Her eyes opened, and yet it was still dark. There were some more unintelligible sounds, but the last one frightened her to her core. The loudest blast she had ever heard went off right next to her. A gunshot. She covered her ears, but the blast still rang through them. The ringing didn’t stop until she was found, which was hours later.
She started screaming. I didn’t know what to do. I immediately opened the locker and let her out.
“I’m sorry, are you okay?” She was hyperventilating. I wasn’t sure what I had done, but hopefully she remembered.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Yes,” she whispered, tears rolling down her face. “Please get me away from here.”
I nodded, intent on getting this little girl’s final statement. I pulled her out of that traumatic locker and slammed it shut behind her; and it stayed that way.
Class of 2024
Bernice Gitiche
"The Dishes"
It was a cool Saturday evening and the sun was seeping beneath the trees. I stood behind the sink as soap covered my shivering hands. Slowly and methodically, I rinsed off the sauce remnants and sticky leftovers from the plates and bowls. My cousins worked beside me, taking the plates I had rinsed and placing them inside the dishwasher.
It was a cool Saturday evening and the sun was seeping beneath the trees. Working with precision, I rinsed the leftovers from the plates and handed them to my cousin so she could put the plates into the dishwasher. After an endless amount of plates and bowls and spoons and platters being washed and rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, we grew tired. Aunties joined us, noticing our weariness and our fingers crinkled from the water. They took the leftover chapati and mandazis and placed them into the containers my cousins and I had just washed. Harsh Swahili rolled off our tongues as we repeated the same steps over and over again. Rinse, wash, place, put away, dry, and repeat.
It was a cool Saturday evening and the sun was seeping beneath the trees. I rinsed the dishes in the sink and handed them to my cousin to place in the dishwasher. Aunties joined us when they noticed our fatigue. Our cold, wet fingers blankly go through the motions over and over again. Rinse, wash, place, put away, dry, and repeat. We laughed in the kitchen, placing the food and the dishes wherever they belonged. My cousins and I wondered when we could leave. Join the boys. The boys who carelessly left the table as soon as they finished with their meal. The boys who left their half-eaten food for us to collect. The boys who screeched and yelled from outside as they played basketball in the driveway. Their laughter joined with the repetitive sound of the basketball hitting the concrete again and again mocked us as we repeated the steps we were supposed to follow. Why do the boys get to play? Us girls would ask the aunties, irritation almost slipping out of our mouths. Kwa sababu ni mila. Because it’s tradition. So we continued rinsing and washing and placing and drying and repeating as the boys laughed on the driveway and the men drank their wine and talked about the president.
Jayden Harris
“Middle School”
It all started once I graduated elementary school. Middle school is hard for everyone but hard for me specifically because I didn’t know what was going on. I remember going to the open house to see some of my teachers, finding my locker, and seeing old friends. I got my schedule and had it memorized the same night, as well as my locker number. Side note about my middle school self, my hair was terrible and dry, I had braces, my breath always smelled like donuts and kolaches (because that's what I ate for breakfast almost everyday), and my skin was usually dry.
In my mind this was a completely new experience, and the only interactions I had with this school were for my older brother. As soon as I set foot in the school I felt out of place, because I couldn't find friends from elementary school in the cafeteria like I had a year ago. Everyone was already with their new found friend groups and cliches, but I was sitting at the end of a table by myself. I saw people going to the breakfast line to get food, I saw a chance to make some friends but I wasn’t hungry because I had just eaten. I wasn’t going to go out of my way to waste money to make friends, because that would just be ignorant. So instead of going to the line I stayed seated and watched Youtube on my phone.
As the bell rang I took out my slip of paper that had my schedule on it, and walked to my first class. I looked at the line standing outside of the door awaiting the teacher’s arrival and saw an old friend from elementary school that moved in 2nd grade. She was wearing a red flannel button up shirt and black jeans. Her name was lyric and as we walked into the pace (Plano Academic and Creative Education) class together we soon realized that it was nothing like the fun class that we had in grade school. I soon saw a pair of twins that I had known for some years, and as the class filled I saw new and old faces. It took a while but I soon started to make an abundance of friends, despite my physical attributes.
I then went one class down to my honors math class where people used to make fun of me for my high pitched voice, and make homophobic remarks (beacuse I had a high pitched voice for some reason). I’m not sure why they were worried about me and not the drugs they were caught with or the other classes they were failing. Next I went to Science where I excelled, then my double block honors english class, then P.E, and finally Choir.
I made lots of friends that year and reconnected with some old ones. Over classes that we shared or people that we didn’t like, we would even bond over the teachers yelling at us for no reason. After the initial change from 5th to 6th I was starting to get the hang of this middle school thing. The thought of switching classes every 45 minutes, having no recess, and less playtime no longer scared me.
When I entered 7th grade, that’s when things started to get… messy. In my choir class (now my 8th period) I didn’t get along well with my choir teacher. She was very stuck up and thought that just because she sang the national anthem somewhere, that she was better than everyone. Even though she always sounded like she was off key she was still teaching us. We would go back and forth from time to time because of how she might favor some students over others. I’m not the only one who thought that and voiced their opinion, but every time my parents told me that I would have to apologize.
Lastly I want to talk about other troubles I would get into. One time I was in the gym and the class was almost over. 5 minutes before the bell a girl kept saying the n-word so i put her in her place and told her not to do it again. Now as one could assume all of the black kids were on my side but her and her friends were against me. In the end a majority of the kids were on my side but I still had to apologize. This made my temper greater in a sense that it would now take more to get me upset, because I didn’t want to be in trouble. The girl ultimately left school, BUT not before her and her family called the police on me. Which made me less lenient to police officers now.
By the time I was in 8th grade, I had left that awful ghetto school. I felt changed in more ways than one. My hair now moist and taken care of, lotion on my skin always, my braces had been removed, my breath no longer smelled like the inside of a Q-Donuts, but of peppermint. As for my High pitched voice, my voice is so low that my parents now call me Barry White. When I got to my new school I had already made friends in the first couple of my classes, compared to being a little closed off in the beginning of my middle school journey. My internal self also changed, Even though some people aggravated me I wasn’t quick to jump or take action and worked it out in a more civilized way. I’d say the change occurred when I left my previous school. Maybe the change of scenery and people around me changed me for the better, and gave me a sort of upgrade.
Myrthea Vigil
“Hunted”
Quickly making her way down the grimy streets of the city Cassia looked up at the clock tower picking up her pace as she read the time. Great, I’m late, now mother is going to have a fit. Cassia pushed past the few people left on the street before she turned the corner of her house and stopped abruptly as she came face to face with her mother. Cringing slightly she brushed past her and made her way into the house, her mother quick to follow.
“Where were you?” she questioned
“I was just at the market.”
“You know you are not supposed to be out after dark, especially today!” her mother said, running a hand through her graying hair.
Cassia looked at her mother, her eyes softening slightly as she brushed past her, setting the stuff she had bought at the market on the small table. Turning to look at her mother she said, “I know mom, but we were low on stuff and those are just stories,” she chuckled “It’s not like some mystical being is going to steal me away and have me for dinner.”
“This is no joking matter. I don’t care if you believe it or not you will follow my rules as long as you live under my roof,” Cassia’s mother stated as she turned her daughter around so that she was looking her in the eye.
Rolling her eyes Cassia made her way towards the small broken down bedroom and flopped onto her bed. Demons and spirits were the least of their worries, they should be focusing on keeping this place intact and staying under the hunters’ radar. Letting her eyes close for a second she felt herself drifting off, before falling into sleep.
Cassia groaned as she was woken up by someone knocking on her window. Pulling herself up she made her way towards the window opening it up to see her friend Raelyn smirking up at her.
“Hey Cas, did you sleep in again?” she questioned.
“Yeah, just a bit,” Cassia stated as she gestured for her to come in.
“Hurry up or we’re gonna miss it,” she said
“Yeah, I know just give me a sec.” Cassia grabbed her bag, strapped her knives to her waist, and tucked one in her boot, before turning back to her friend.
“Ok let’s go,” she said.
The girls jumped out of Cassia’s bedroom window and landed on the wet grimy floor of the street. The girls checked to make sure no one was paying them any attention before taking off towards the outskirts of the city. The streets were nearly empty of people. Which made sense considering today was the blue moon, and superstition was at its highest. Raelyn stopped abruptly causing Cassia to run into her nearly throwing them both on the ground.
“What are you do-”
“Shhh, you’re gonna get us caught!” Rae whispered harshly.
Giving her friend a questioning look, Cassia stuck her head around the alley where they were hiding and spotted a group of sentinels not too far from them. Cursing under her breath Cassia turned to look at her friend with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t say ‘I told you so’, alright I know,” she said exasperatedly.
“I wasn’t, just that we should’ve gone my way.”
“Yeah, I know, I know.”
The girls froze suddenly as they heard the sentinels make their way in the girls’ direction. Quickly they walked further into the alley pressing their backs against the far wall. Cassia closed her eyes trying to concentrate as she called the shadows forward to obscure them from the sentinels’ view. Praying to Calix that this worked. As soon as the sentinels came they left. Cassia released her hold on the shadows and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She took a step forward before getting dizzy and falling back to the wall.
“Maybe we should wait here for a few. Summoning those shadows took a lot out of you.” Raelyn said
“No, no I’m fine. Let’s go.” Cassia responded as she pushed off the wall.
Rae watched her go for a second making sure she wouldn’t fall again, before following after her. The girls made their way to the outskirts, keeping close to the alleys just in case they ran into more sentinels. The girls reached the outskirts just as soon as the clock tower struck 12.
“Where did you say they would meet us?” Cassia asked
“In the Wicked Forest,” she stated.
Cassia stopped in her tracks as she looked at Rae fear evident in her eyes. The Wicked Forest was not somewhere you would want to be tonight especially if you were of magic born. The spirits and demons of the forest were stronger on a blue moon and drew power from the magic born, as an energy source.
“We can’t go in there,” Cassia said
“It’ll be fine. Those are just ghost stories told by mercenaries to keep people away,” Raelyn replied stepping into the forest. “See nothing bad has happened. No evil spirit, nothing.”
Cassia chewed the inside of her lip before following after her friend. As soon as she stepped into the Wicked Forest she could feel the power that radiated off of everything in the forest. She looked around in wonder at the beauty of the forest. Everything seemed to glow under the blue moon, as they made their way deeper into the forest. Cassia turned to her friend smiling but she wasn’t there. Panic started to set in as she looked frantically around her, trying to find Raelyn.
Suddenly she heard a rustling in a nearby bush causing her to snap her head in the direction of the sound. Tentatively stepping towards the bush, Cassia reached to pull the leaves back when suddenly Rae jumped up with a roar. Screaming Cassia fell back onto the ground.
“Sweet mother of Calix. Raelyn what is wrong with you?”
“You should’ve seen your face,” Rae responded doubling over with laughter.
“It’s not funny. I’m already freaked out as is, I don’t need you jumping at me as well.” Cassia said as she dusted herself off.
“Oh come one, don’t be such a grouch.”
“I’m not being a grouch, just don’t feel like dying of a heart attack at 19.”
“Ok, that’s fair. Come on we’re a bit late.”
Quickly the girls took off making their way further into the woods, the lights of the city no longer visible. Stopping just outside of the campsite the girls looked at each other before stepping forward. Sitting in front of the fire there was this man who looked about the same age as Cassia’s mother. He was hunched over humming softly to himself. The two girls tentatively walked over stopping just shy of the man.
“You’re late,” the man said his voice gruff.
“Sorry, we had a bit of a hold-up,” Rae responded as she casually went to stand next to the man.
“You should know better Raelyn.” the man said
Raelyn simply rolled her eyes. Cassia stood watching the interaction curiously, but something was gnawing at her. They seemed too relaxed with each other, Rae had said this was a new contact. Then why did it look like they already knew each other? Cassia stood there her head spinning from all the questions.
“You two seem chummy,” she said crossing her arms over her chest
Raelyn turned to look at her, her eyes narrowing slightly at her tone before she said “What’s got you all wound up?” Cassia stayed silent. “Is it because I scared you on the way here? I already said I was sorry.”
Cassia said nothing as she eyed the bearded man warily, scanning him for any form of threat. As she looked at the man, her eyes landed on his chest spotting a bit of ink. Feeling her gaze on him the man looked at Cassia smirking as he pulled back his shirt slightly revealing the hunters’ symbol, a pair of white deer antlers forming a circle, and in the middle a small triangle the symbol for fire. Cassia’s eyes widened as she took a step back. Turning to look at her friend who simply lifted her sleeve to reveal an identical tattoo on her forearm.
“You lied to me,” Cassia said as she clenched her jaw.
“Don’t take it personally Cas, it’s just my job,” Rae said
“Don’t waste your breath with the she-devil, Raelyn,” the man said forcefully as he pulled out two revolvers pointing them at her.
Cassia stood frozen not sure what to do. How could she be so stupid? She trusted Rae, which of course turned out to be a big mistake. Her eyes flicked around anxiously as she watched as more hunters started to come out of hiding, she was outnumbered. Doing the only thing she could think of she turned to run but was caught by one of the hunters that dragged her towards her supposed friend.
“Can’t run from us, little witch,” Raelyn stated.
Cassia tried to pull away but to no avail. She glared at Rae as she felt the cold metal of the gun pushed against her temple. Closing her eyes Cassia felt the familiar sensation of electricity rushing through her when she used her powers. Concentrating on the shadows she called them to her blocking everyone’s vision. The hunters shouted with surprise as they could no longer see anything. Cassia went to escape before she felt someone grab her wrist and pull her to the ground. She felt the familiar blade of Rae’s double-sided sword pressing against her throat.
“Where do you think you’re going, witch?” Rae said venom in every word, far from the goofy chaotic friend she had known.
“You don’t have to do this,” Cassia said as she reached around before grabbing onto a large rock.
“You’re right I don’t, but I really want to,” Rae said
Cassia took the chance to hit Raelyn with the rock she was holding, causing her to fall over clutching her eye. Cassia quickly got up and ran far away from the hunters, not caring if it was the right direction or not. When she was far enough away she released her hold on the shadows and slumped against an oak tree. How did she go from a night of fun and sneaking around to trying not to die? The sound of rustling snapped her out of her thoughts as she quickly stood up leaning on the tree for support.
Her eyes frantically scanned the woods, heart hammering in her chest as she reached for the knife at her side. Cassia’s breath caught in her throat as she spotted a man staring at her through the dark. The man gave her a cat-like grin before she swayed and fell forward. Before she could reach the floor the man caught her, his amber eyes burning into her.
“Aerie,” Cassia whispered before everything went black.
Nick Sanders
“My Journey into the Ocean”
My earliest memory is of standing in the quiet dimly lit observation room in front of a giant glass window of the reef exhibit of the Tennessee Aquarium while waiting for a shark to swim by me. Back then it was just my mom and me, and we spent at least two days a week exploring the 14,000 square feet of the aquarium. She loves to tell how fearless I was as I petted stingrays and bamboo sharks and stood mesmerized in front of the shark tank. As other kids would run from the glass as the menacing tiger shark swam by, I would giggle and shout “shark” which incidentally was my first word.
Despite living hours from the ocean, my family ventured at least once a year to a beach where I would swim and play in the ocean waves. I never realized this same ocean was the natural habitat of the sharks that I loved so much. Finally, my mother decided that my sister and I were old enough, 4 years and 6 years, to snorkel. To prepare for our adventure to the Florida Keys, I took snorkel lessons at our local dive center. At the end of our snorkeling lesson, the divemaster let us use the scuba equipment to dive into the twenty-foot pool. It was amazing. It felt like I was floating in space. I could not wait to try it in the ocean. My sister’s and my excitement built as we traveled by boat several miles from shore in turquoise-colored water so clear that you could see the fish swimming beneath us. The boat stopped, and it was time to jump into the living fish tank. I suddenly realized we were in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, and I would soon be in the water with the fish without glass separating us. I jumped in and realized that the ocean floor that looked so close was actually too deep to stand on—it was 25 feet down. All my snorkeling training flew out of my mind and in its place was the single thought that I had to get out of the water! Fortunately for me, my mother was a seasoned scuba diver, and she easily held me above water while calming me. By the end of our two-hour snorkel, I was a pro and even pointed out a nurse shark to my sister.
When I turned ten, I was eligible to start learning how to scuba dive. I returned to our local scuba dive shop to learn to scuba dive. After a week of classes in the classroom and the swimming pool, I took a comprehensive test including safety measures to avoid possibly fatal air embolism which is where air bubbles get trapped in your bloodstream and kill you. I worked really hard during that week and passed both the written test and practical test in the pool. Before the practical test, I remembered how I had panicked in the water while snorkeling. I was worried that I would panic again, forget my training, and make a fatal mistake.
To complete my training, our family took another adventure—this time to Hawaii. I was scared. Would I panic as I plunged into 40 feet of water? Would spotting my first reef shark cause me to dangerously dart to the surface of the water? Would I forget to check my air level and run out of air? Would the boat leave without us? As we geared up, these thoughts raced through my mind. I could give up my dream of swimming in the ocean with my long-time friend, the shark, or I could take a deep breath, remember to breathe, and jump into the water. I took a giant stride into the ocean and overcame my fear. As I descended to the sandy bottom, I saw it—an enormous manta ray doing somersaults as if to celebrate my personal victorious journey.
Santiago Reding-Ortiz
"Magic Kingdom"
“Wassup, man.” said Jack, in his usual way, “Hi Jack.” said Isaac, in a not so usual way; you see, it had been at least a week since they’d seen the Poble and Isaac was still rather shaken by it. “You think—do you think it knows us?” Said Isaac, not really asking, “Nah, don’t worry about it, like, those things don’t remember anything.” said Jack a little too casually for Isaac’s taste. Isaac was unsettled by the way it moved; undulating like a worm but with legs like a fly. This was just the way things were and Isaac knew that, but still he couldn’t help but wonder if his mom was ok. You see, every year Disney picks five special people for it’s sweepstakes, but they would only choose one to keep. They keep the other four temporarily, of course, to ensure that people were kept on their toes for the big reveal of who it was. Isaac’s mom was one of the five picked.
Jack was getting a little tired of his friends moping around, why couldn’t he just forget about it for two seconds? The Poble isn’t even a big deal, c’mon! He had a great plan for getting his friend to lighten up, take him to The Happiest Place on Earth, which they were already in, of course.
“C’mon Isaac, let's go on Froggie’s Magic Quest, there’s only a 6 hour wait!” said Jack. Froggie's Magic Quest was Isaac's favorite ride ever since they were little. They’d commit one of the ten heretic acts and cut in line by saying their parents were in the front waiting for them, but they didn’t care, they were just kids.
A big brass Froggie stood outside the gate greeting everyone with his signature catchphrase, “Universal Studios is the enemy!”. “Never change Froggie.” Jack said, patting the frog’s knee for good luck. “Let’s go dawg, before the line gets bigger, what’s taking so long?” said Jack trying to recapture the magic their world once had. “Sorry man, I’m just worried about my mom,” said Isaac.
“Oh my Mouse, get over it, lighten up, for real.”
“You wouldn’t get it Jack.”
“Why would I not get it?”
“You got raised by The Lost Boys, you have no idea what it's like to have a family.”
“The Lost Boys are my family.”
“When was the last time you even talked to one of them?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Why can't you just care! My mom, my only mom, got taken and you’re here worried about some stupid ride!” he yelled, and Jack knew he was right. It was one of those moments where you change your opinion because you love somebody, and you’ll put your biases away for one second to love them more. Jack looked at him like he did when they were kids—hell they still are kids.
“Ok, ok, you’re right. I’m sorry, it's just, I wanted my friend back.”
“Jack, we—”
The alarm sirens wailed; Flash! Boom! Isaac fell to the ground and got away with a scraped knee, Jack hit his head on Froggie’s Magic Knee and was out cold. The soldiers rushed past the two. The soldiers were clad with their battle uniforms; red overalls and mouse-eared helmets. Isaac knew an attack was coming, but he never really expected it.
Isaac stood looking at the wave sent by Universal Studios; his home set to ruins. He was on the ground holding Jack smacking him across the face to try to get him to wake up. One of the Univertite soldiers shot a round of bullets near them and one of the bullets caught Jack’s chest, barely missing Isaac. Isaac cried out for his friend but then another soldier pointed his gun right at Isaac, and mouthed “Sorry”, but just before he could shoot, the Poble slammed against the Univertites knocking them a good 30 feet away. The Poble turned its black beady eyes, towards Isaac’s red teary ones, and then scuttled away with its awful motion.
“Mars and Asking your Mom for Fast Food”
It was a scheduled hot day in the Olympus State on Mars. A boy was hungry, many people in Olympus were hungry, but he wanted something special.
He walked up to his mom with a question in his hands, eager and hungry. This was the only thing he truly loved. “Can we go to Chick-fil-a?”, he asked.
“No.” His mom said, voice firm and question settled.
“Why not?” the boy said, his mom always said no. Why couldn’t she let up just this once? It's just Chick-fil-a, the boy didn’t think it a big deal.
“We have food here. I could make you something,” said his mom, but the boy knew the food there sucked.
“But the food here sucks.”
“That's fair, but it's much healthier than Chick-fil-a.”
“But I want Chick-fil-a.”
“But I don’t want to drive to Chick-fil-a.”
“But I don’t want you not to drive me to Chick-fil-a.”
“Ethan, I’m not taking you.”
“Please?”
His mom remained silent through the rest of the questions the boy asked. She just looked out of the window, past the not-yet-settled dunes, to the warm red sky, perhaps thinking about what she would make him for dinner. Defeated, the boy went back to his room.
Then quickly returned to pry at her again.
Why couldn’t she just understand? It wasn’t asking for much, Chick-fil-a wasn’t that far away, couldn’t they just go one time? His mom hadn’t taken him since she got that stupid job. Ethan hardly had time with her; she would drop him off and not pick him up until an hour after school had ended.
Once, she had picked him up far too late, several hours in fact, she apologized and said she was running late because of work, but Ethan knew she had forgotten. That was the most recent time they went to Chick-fil-a.
“Can we please go?” the boy pleaded with watery eyes, trying hard not to cry, as he often had.
“Baby, we can’t just go to Chick-fil-a whenever we want,” the mom said, looking at her son and perhaps feeling bad, “and I especially won’t take you when you're crying about it.”
At that point Ethan burst with a flurry of words, “IT’SJUST,YOUNEVERTAKEMEANYWHEREANYMORE,” Ethan continued bursting from everywhere he could, talking fast so that he could say it without his tears interrupting him. He cried all the things he had cried in secret. But his mom wouldn’t budge, she gave him a lecture about how throwing fits won’t get him anything, and how she might have taken him if he wasn’t crying, but now it was too late, and maybe tomorrow they would go—if he behaves.
Ethan returned to his room, not really having heard any of the words his mom had told him. Still crying, he went to his room, and still crying, he fell asleep without any dinner.
Sydney Turner
“The Rose Prince”
Once upon a time, in a world beyond our own, there lived a family. They weren’t an average family though, they ruled over a grand kingdom. A kingdom known for its friendliness, innocence, and purity: the Rose Kingdom. The Rose family were loved by all, as hate was something that the people of the Rose Kingdom were not familiar with. The Rose family consisted of a king, who was wise and humble, a queen, who was kind and fair as winter’s snow, and last but certainly not least, a young prince, whose innocence and laughter can make anyone and anything smile. They were happy, but their family didn’t stop there. Their family continued through the castle halls through the streets of the villages to the outer walls of the kingdom. Everyone was their family, but their closest family member by far was a servant, who went by the name of Flight. Flight was so close to the family, that he would often be invited to sit at dinner with them. He would do anything he could do around the palace. He would clean if was asked to, he would be a royal advisor if he was asked to, he would try his best at anything they would ask him to do, even though most of the time he didn’t know what he was doing. However, all of those jobs slowly ceased, as he had taken up the most difficult and as well the most rewarding job of all, to be the caretaker of the little Rose prince. Now, I know that you are used to stories that start at the beginning, however, this isn’t one of those stories. Perhaps let’s start a little later than the beginning, to where our little Rose prince is fifteen human years of age.
***
The little Rose Prince was running. Running through the castle gardens and through the castle gates, onto the kingdom's perimeters. The Rose Prince and his little servant friend both looked at the tall, white bricked wall tower over them, as not even the tallest tree could reach the top of it. They looked around them to make sure no one was following or watching them, and then once realizing there was not a soul in sight, they looked at each other with enthusiastic grins and ran to the wall. Behind some brush was a little tunnel that went under the wall and onto the outside world. The prince crawled on his hands and knees through the tunnel, getting dirt all over his clothes and skin. His caretaker, Flight, only got dirt on his paws, as he was a special little fox and just trotted through the tunnel as if it was made by himself. Upon reaching the other side, the prince dusted off what dirt he could and started to run through the grass to get to the nearby meadow. Flight who was behind the prince soon trotted out of the tunnel and saw the prince running towards the meadow.
Flight called to the prince, but he kept running, too eager to have fun and to enjoy nature's beauty to stop. Flight rolled his eyes and chased after the prince. They laughed the whole way on their journey.
Once the prince was nearly upon the meadow, he looked behind him to see how far behind Flight was. Flight was jumping and zig-zagging through the tall grass where the prince could only see his head peak at every jump and the movement of the grass moving quickening. He laughed and ran faster down into the meadow, where the grass slowly died down like a wave coming to its shore. As the prince started to run down the hill, Flight leaped onto the boy and and with a flash of a bright, white light that covered Flights altering body, he transformed into his human form. Both boys rolled down the hill until the slope was gone, both too dizzy to get up.
Flight was no regular fox, in fact, he was born a normal boy. He was a hybrid. Whenever more than one person was within sight of the hybrid, he would transform into a tangerine-colored fox with white whiskers and charcoal tips on his ears and tail. His paws were like the color of ash of which you would find from a fireplace. He also had a red scarf with gold embroidering of roses and thorns, which the prince himself had made and given to him. Whenever in the eyes of one person or even nothing at all, he was given the ability to transform into his human self; or at least as human as he could be. As he matured, he was able to control when he wanted to transform or de-transform from his fox or human form in front of one or fewer people, using his differing size and appearance to his advantage. The only person in the Rose Kingdom to know about his transformations was the prince. Everyone else thought Flight was just a fox that was capable of very well speaking and thinking capabilities.Though the prince knew that it was a curse, as to why Flight as cursed was left to his imagination. However, curses in the world of Amaranthine, where several kingdoms including the Rose Kingdom lived and thrived, were quite common, especially that of animal transformation curses. Curses weren’t something that people usually questioned as of how common they are, as even running into a witch whose favorite treat was sold out at the marketplace could get your offspring cursed.
However, none of them thought of curses or witches, just the sunshine and the swaying grass in the fields. Flight laid down on the grass and stared at the blue sky and white clouds as well as the yellow sun. Flight could even see the faint outline of the smaller sun, one they called Balangan. The blue murkiness of the sky in the Rose Kingdom often covered the miniature sun up, though, on those special occasions, you can see a faint gray circle in the sky that resides near the bright yellow sun. The prince was nearby picking all types of flowers to give to the people of the village, and if he had enough time before dinner, to even decorate the village. The sun made his blonde hair shine like its golden rays, and his green eyes matched the beautiful grass that swayed in the wind.
Flight sighed and looked over at the prince, who was putting a blood-red poppy flower next to his nose, trying to enjoy every scent that the poppy gave off. His eyes were closed as he smelled the flower. His appreciation for nature was something that most people in the lands of Amaranthine didn’t posses. Luckily, the Rose Kingdom was oblivious to this fact, as they all appreciated nature, but nothing compared to the Rose Prince.
After enjoying all the scents that the poppy could give, the Rose Princetook the poppy away from his nose and opened his eyes. He caught Flight looking and smiling at him.
“What?” the little prince asked. Flight giggled.
“The way you pick flowers is something that never ceases to amaze me.”
“Hm? Really? Why is that?”
Flight looked back up at the sky.
“Most people in Amaranthine can’t appreciate the way you do.”
The prince looked confused towards the poppy he held in his hands, as if to ask the little flower if knew what Flight had meant. Obviously, no answer came. He then looked back at Flight, whose attention was still focused upon the sky.
“How do I appreciate differently than most of the people in Amaranthine?”
Flight sighed once again, closing his eyes to rest.
“Genuinely. You appreciate genuinely.”
The rose prince blushed at that statement. He knew that Flight would tell him the truth, even if it felt like he was being pricked by a hundred rose bushes. The prince didn’t know what to say. He felt like a ‘thanks’ wasn’t enough.
“Which flower is your favorite so far?”
“Hm?”
The little Rose Prince had been taken off guard with that question. Flight laughed once again and turned on his side to face the prince. His hazel eyes surveyed the prince as well as the pile of flowers that he had laid on a white sheet that was next to the blonde.
“Which flower is your favorite so far? That you picked?”
The dots in the prince's mind connected.
“Oh, well,” the prince said as he navigated his hand over the pile of flowers, wondering which was the one he loved the most. He went through this practically every other day whenever they went to the meadow, but he took each one as seriously as the last. As he thought about it, suddenly he felt the cold stem that was in his other hand that was presently resting next to his side. He let his hand rise and once again focused on the blood-red poppy flower that was in front of him. He smiled at the flower then looked up at Flight.
“This one.”
“Hm? The poppy?”
“Yes, I like it.”
The rose prince put the little poppy in his arms like it was a baby. Flight once again rolled his eyes and laughed.
“I have been to many places all over Amscoarap-”
“Amaranthine?”
The prince smiled at Flight. Fight in turn once again rolled his eyes. He sometimes still called Amaranthine by its previous name, Amscorarap.
“Yes, Amaranthine,” Flight coughed to clear his throat, “ I have been to many places all over AMARANTHINE, but never have I seen someone mother a flower the way you do, and I will say, I have seen plenty of strange and weird things.”
“Well, you did say I could appreciate things in a genuine way.”
“Well, I did, but now, it is starting to get a little obsessive and creepy-”
“IS NOT!”
The little prince yelled. Flight turned on his stomach, a face of challenge on his face.
“Oh yeah?”
Flight quickly got up and lunged towards the prince, snatching the little poppy flower right out of the sitting prince's hand.
“HEY!”
The prince got up and tried to grab the flower that Flight now held above his head, making the little prince unable to reach.
“I thought we both agreed that using height was an unfair advantage.”
“Hm,” Flight smirked, “sometimes, height doesn’t matter or isn’t even needed. Sometimes, if not most of the time, what's needed is intelligence.”
The prince frowned at Flight while Flight's grin continued to grow bigger.
“You don’t need to be tall to get your poppy back, you need to be smart.”
Flight gestured a finger to the side of his head, pointing to his brain. The prince's face turned from a frown into thought. The prince hated when Flight made him do little lessons like this, even if it was helpful wisdom for a future king.
“Understan-UHG!”
The prince rammed into Flights lower abdomen causing Flight, as well as the prince, to fall backwards. The poppy flew from his hands and landed less than an arm's length away.
Once the prince was able to regain his surroundings, he saw the poppy and started to crawl over Flight to get it. After the prince crawled over Flight’s body, smushing Flight’s face with his hands and punching his stomach with his knees, he started to get up to run towards his poppy. Flight grabbed his leg and tripped the prince before he could reach the poppy. Once the prince was on the ground, he dragged him further away from the poppy despite the prince's nails clawing through the grass and dirt. They both laughed as the prince was being pulled back. Once Flight had pulled the prince as far back as he could, he dragged himself to get up and grab the poppy. However, the prince decided to pull the same trick, though not the brightest firefly in the meadow, he still could pull some of his own tricks. With that Flight landed face first in the dirt and grass. The prince started to quickly crawl over to the poppy, this time avoiding crawling over Flight in the process. However, when the prince was directly next to Flight, Flight grabbed the prince and rolled on top of him. He held the prince’s hands down on the ground.
“Is strength also an unfair advantage?”
Flight smirked, but so did the prince. The prince kicked Flight in the stomach, leaving Flight to be weak enough to overthrow, as well as making Flight produce a gagging noise. The little prince was able to overpower Flight and he rolled himself and Flight over, with the prince now having the upper hand.
“Well, I kind of thought it was, but I think the stomach is a true weakness.”
The prince laughed while Flight laughed with a sense of pain in his face, every laugh causing his stomach to hurt more than it already did. The prince had laughed so much already, he had become as weak as Flight and with that, Flight was once again able to overpower him. Then the prince kneed Flight in the stomach again, and once more he was on top of Flight. This continued until Flight’s stomach hurt way too much to fight anymore.
“Ok, ok. You win. The poppy’s yours.”
The prince looked at Flight with a look of shock then disbelief. The servant opened his hands up in surrender.
“I’m serious.”
Though the prince still had his doubts he got off of Flight and started to run towards the poppy and the rest of his flowers. Flight once again tried to grab and trip the prince, however, the prince was already too far away for him to reach. Flight laughed and looked up at the sky, holding his stomach due to the pain of being kneed several times still resonating. He then looked at the sun, though it was bright and hard to look at. He remembers when he used to think that, about the future though. Bright and hard to look at, though his future at the time was more cloudy than he realized. Then concern came over him. The position of the sun was starting to get close to the horizon. Flight swore just a second ago it had been in the middle of the sky, but that was when they first arrived he supposed.
“Eden.”
The prince, who was gathering his flowers, looked over at the hybrid.
“Time to go,” Flight said, “And we better hurry, if we want to drop the flowers off at the village and be back in time for dinner.”
The prince nodded with a slight frantic present on his face and then continued to gather his flowers, but with a little more speed. Little Rose Prince Eden loved to give his flowers to the village and didn’t want to miss this occasion. It’s not like he could bring the flowers home, his mom and dad knew which flowers grew in the rose garden in the yard of the palace. They never noticed the villager’s flowers anyway when they did visit the village, and luckily, none of the villagers have said anything either. It’s not like a fib wouldn’t get them out if the King and Queen asked, but they both knew that their lie would catch up with them, so Eden only took them flowers that grew in the garden.
Though his parents were kind and they let the prince do what he pleased, they made it strictly clear that they didn’t want him to go outside the kingdom’s walls. However, the Rose Prince was always curious about the outside world, and though Flight was strict about the Kings and Queens rules at first, Flight thought it wouldn’t be too big of a deal if they went to the nearby meadow. It was still as beautiful as the Rose Kingdom itself and there wasn’t any type of civilization until hills away.
They quickly walked back to the walls and before the prince crawled through the space Flight transformed into a fox once again and went through to make sure no one was on the other side. Once Flight made sure that the coast was clear, he signaled the prince to come through. The prince once again got dirt on his hands and knees. He made sure to crawl a little slower than before due to the bag filled with all different types of flowers from the meadow being located in a slouch that slightly hung down from his stomach. Once he was through He got off and dusted off his hands, knees, and his clothes of the brown dirt that had found the prince’s skin and clothes more appealing than the Amaranthine afternoon soil. Once the prince had no dirt on him, he adjusted his pouch, smiled at Flight, and ran away from the walls and towards the village that surrounded the North, West, and East side of the palace. A couple of flowers fell out of the Rose prince’s pouch as he ran, which Flight, who was following behind, quickly scooped up with his mouth. By the time they arrived at the village, Flight had a nice bouquet filled with all types and colors of beautiful flowers in his mouth.
***
The Rose Prince walked down the cobblestone streets of his village, giving his flowers to the oblivious villagers in his kingdom. Flight followed the prince and picked up any flowers that happened to fall out of his bag or his fumbling hand. Flight looked around at all of the faces in the village. He couldn’t believe how everyone was here. In this separate world. He gets taken back every time he’s out in the village with the Rose Prince, and even without the Rose prince. Everyone is so kind, almost too kind. It hurt Flight, but not in the way it should. The people of the Rose Kingdom have no idea what it’s like out there. How corrupted the world out there is. The Rose Prince was no exception.
Flight looked up at the Rose Prince who was talking with a villager, after giving her fresh flowers from the meadow. The Rose Prince was happy, however, he wanted to leave. Flight was once a adventure-seeking adolescent as well, he could recognize the difference in what was merely a phase or was sewn into someone’s fate. Leaving was sewn in the Rose Prince's fate. You could see it in his eyes. Though kind, they were filled with determination. Flight thought if he took the prince to the meadow, his urge would at the least decline, but his will to explore only grew. He talked about leaving since he was five years old. Always glancing at the sky and I was asking questions on where the birds go when they fly beyond the walls. It was only a matter of time before he left. The King and Queen recognized this as well and hoped if they instill the fact that he was to be the next king, perhaps he would stay and realize how important he was. However, no crown nor no court would stop him. He loves his village and his kingdom, but some things are not sewn into fate, such as the little Rose Prince staying.
Flight sighed. Flight had realized a long time ago that the Rose Prince and he were very similar. He could recognize that determination in his eyes as his own when he was that age. However, he got more than he bargained for and now he knows that it will only lead to a pit too deep to get out of. However, to know is something that can’t be taught only learned from experience. Flight knew when the Rose Prince learned his lesson like Flight did at his age, as well as so many others before him, the Rose Prince would wilt. It wouldn’t end well. However, until that day came, picking flowers in the meadow satisfied his sense of guilt he knew he’d feel one day.
“Come on Flight!”
The Rose Prince said as he began to walk away. Once Flight shook out of his daze, he proudly pounced and leaped after the Rose Prince, still carrying the flowers in his mouth. They visited some other villagers until they were all out of flowers. When they were all out to give, both headed back to the palace for dinner.
The Rose Prince still carried a beautiful bouquet of flowers that were supposedly native flowers that grew within the walls of the Rose Kingdom. As they headed towards the palace, Eden held them proudly in his arms as if they were a newborn child.
When they opened the large doors that would lead them into the throne room, the king and queen sat on two identical thrones, both beautifully made of gold and red velvet. It had flower designs etched into the gold and the velvet looked soft to the touch. Another throne, the same size as the king and queens, sat empty next to the king’s throne. That throne belonged to no other than the little Rose Prince himself. Eden had always thought that he looked ridiculous when he sat on that throne. He looked tiny and weak on the throne, which was twice his size. His feet couldn’t even touch the bottom.
He ran down the red carpet that led to a small set of stairs that led to the thrones where his mom and dad were sitting. They were both discussing matters with the gentleman in front of them. With one word and a flick of the king's wrist the man was gone. The little Rose Prince paid no attention to the man and just ran up to his mother, who embraced him with all of the love in her heart. However, Flight did pay attention to the man. The man was the so-called “general” of the Rose Kingdoms’ army. He was a good man, however, he had no real idea how to command an army or how to fight against the world. The only incidents that were threats to the Rose Kingdom were little robberies that young criminals fessed up after a day of feeling guilty after stealing an unpaid piece of chocolate. The man usually gave a report once in a while, just to tell the king that everything was alright. Flight was also usually present in the room due to it being somewhat of a scheduled meeting. However, he had met with the king before just a couple of dinners ago, and Flight was present in the room. He also told his report in front of the queen, who had no desire to know anything about the military processes in the Rose Kingdom. Flight knew that something was wrong, however, he couldn’t let the little Rose Prince know of his concern. The Rose Prince had a “nervous problem” some would say. Only close family knew of the problem though.
Flight knew the king and queen wouldn’t tell Eden anything to do with the outside of the Rose Kingdoms walls, even if it were to stop him from leaving their happy kingdom. Their oblivious kingdom. Their wilting kingdom.
Faculty
Cary Hammonds
“I Hate Avocados”
This is a story about regret.
I grew up in a conservative environment, like church-multiple-days-a-week conservative. Like, if a boy sat with a girl at church, they must be dating and planning on marriage.
So it was by no plan of my own, simply circumstances, that I was the last of my kind: the last girl who’d never been kissed. There were many…friendships that I thought would lead to a kiss, but it hadn’t happened. I’d moved past the stage of dreaming about what it would be like into acceptance that, based on my friends’ stories, my First Kiss was likely to be lackluster—we’d bump heads at worst, or at best, it would simply be contact with none of the fireworks described in books and movies.
But, I mean, I was still open to being surprised.
There was a boy, Sean, who I’d known for years, and liked, off and on, for years. He was blonde and light skinned, always talking about cameras, movies, and history. He read books. He talked about cinematography. We ate a lot of Whataburger together, and I would dog/house sit for his family when they went on vacation.
But Sean had been on again, off again with a blonde named Stephanie. Oppressively skinny, expensively and pinkly dressed, she had mastered ultimate bitchiness when we were just thirteen. My name is Cary; she called me Cherry, not as an affectionate nickname, but as a power play. I didn’t like the nickname, but I allowed her to use it because she was popular and, though I didn’t like her, I liked her friends. They moved together in a bright, laughing knot, and sometimes she threw me a single thread—the nickname. I could join the knot, sometimes, if I answered to the name.
I listened to Sean talk about Stephanie a lot over the years. He only saw her cloying sweetness and her boobs. He could not, or would not, see the side of her that I and our other friends saw. I was patient. We kept talking about movies. Then one day, he made a declaration: he was done. No more Stephanie. (Yes!)
Now we talked more and more often, later and later into the night. With whispered flirting and comfortable silences, it became harder and harder to hang up and sleep. I would lay in bed smiling in the dark. We were still dancing around our interest in each other, but it was an almost physical presence. So, it was quickly becoming time to face my situation. My “inexperience” had me writhing inside. I would have preferred to let my first kiss be lowkey, with only me knowing it had been a First. But, having known me for years, Sean knew that I’d never kissed anyone.
“What do you think it will be like?” he asked me. “What do you hope it’ll be like?”
I told him my expectations were low. At this point, I kind of just wanted to have done it already, so it could stop being my weird fact.
But Sean was having none of my realism. “It’s going to be amazing,” he said. “It’s gonna be so good, you’re gonna have to sit down.”
Gag. What an ego.
Sean and I decided we were together. I had to babysit my brother that Saturday night, and my best friend was already coming over, so I invited Sean as well. I made dinner.
To this day, that meal is The. Worst. I’ve. Ever. Made. My mom is a health nut, and everything in our house was whole grain, organic, and it’s-like-chocolate-but-healthier! I made calzones from scratch, using spelt flour, soy cheese, and turkey pepperoni. Our oven had broken, so I had to bake the calzones in our toaster oven. The end result was ghastly. It was foul-tasting and somehow both burned and doughy, and I had to tell Sean, Jessica, and my brother that they didn’t have to keep eating. It was humiliating. Great feeling of confidence for the night of my First Kiss.
We sat in the living room watching something—I have no idea what because I was so nervous—and Sean’s arm rested around my shoulders. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t enjoy it, I couldn’t watch. All I could think about was the goodbye. I’m sure he knew. I’m sure I was absolutely rigid with terror. And it didn’t help that Jessica was smirking at me, lips curling with an all-knowing, “you’re going to get kissed tonight” face.
Whatever was on the screen ended. Jessica told my brother to go brush his teeth, said something about doing the dishes, and disappeared. I walked to the front door and opened it. Sean walked out. I walked out. I assume someone said something, but like the movie, I have no idea what it was, because all I could hear was my heart pounding. And then. Sean kissed me. And it was horrendous. Cold. Wet. Squishy. Still. Like, we made contact, and then we just stayed, standing there for a second like two ripe avocado halves mashed together.
He pulled away, strode down the steps, sauntered along the sidewalk, and opened the gate. Then, he stopped. He turned and looked at me like he was freaking Leonardo DiCaprio. And I sat down.
Jen Wentlandt
“Baby Bird”
“Mrs. Bichler? Pauline Bichler?”
At this, Pauline and Henry Bichler rose from the waiting room chairs and were ushered into the solemn room of Dr. Edward Dykemann. After the customary handshake, the couple sat, awkwardly side by side, on the couch across from Dr. Dykemann. Neither her fingers nor her lips trembled, as so many young women’s did in this office. She sat ramrod straight, her face composed and almost sullen, her head almost a full inch higher than her husband, who was glancing at the diplomas framed in gold on the wall behind Dr. Dykemann. The couch was usually reserved for single occupancy in the recumbent position, normally by housewives who needed a handkerchief.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bichler, thank you for coming.” He paused, waited for both sets of eyes to connect with his, which they finally did (only briefly from Pauline, as she quickly returned to studying the carpet pattern). Dr. Dykemann smiled what he hoped and had always felt was a disarming smile. Henry smiled back with straight white teeth reminiscent of a toothpaste ad he’d seen that morning in the paper. In 15 years of therapy, he had not seen such teeth.
“My secretary tells me you are new to Astoria. How are you settling in?”
Henry glanced at his wife quickly and cleared his throat. “Oh yes - we are loving Astoria so far. Aren’t we, honey?” Pauline didn’t raise her head, but a smile touched her lips briefly. “Yes,” he continued, “we found this great walk-up that is close to work – I’m in residency in the cardiology program at Mount Sinai.”
He paused and was rewarded with the approving nod from Dr. Dykemann. “And of course we love being able to take in the shows…enjoy the nightlife…right? Right, Polly?” His arm slid around her back but his hand found nowhere to rest so he awkwardly patted her shoulder before returning it to its partner in his lap and peering down at his shoes. The lack of a backrest on the couch was already starting to strain him. He cleared his throat, and there was a pause.
“Ravenswood.” The word snuck out of her mouth and her lips closed again before it registered to either man that she was still there.
“What’s that?” Dr. Dykemann raised his eyebrows.
“We live in Ravenswood.” Her voice was light, and lavender-flavored.
“Yes, of course - Ravenswood would be…ah…more accurate.” Henry cleared his throat again. Dr. Dykemann put his legal pad down, removing his glasses.
“Mrs. Bichler, as you know, your husband here–”
“Henry, please.”
“Yes, Henry, as you know, is interested in helping to get you some rest. Some needed relaxation. Do you feel like you need some rest, dear?” When Pauline didn’t respond, Henry offered up, “it’s been a rough year for Polly, for us rather…you see….we haven’t been married long, and…well…” He paused, and Dykemann felt a twinge of sadness for him.
“Please go on, Mr. Bichler.”
“You see, Polly here, she has had a few accidents lately…had some…some sad things happen.” Henry glanced at Pauline again, whose eyes remained on the carpet.
“Would you like to tell me about these sad things, Mrs. Bichler?” he attempted. This time Pauline raised her eyes and met his, somewhat beady and bloodshot behind his glasses. Hers, brown and wide set, seemed to be taking in his face and considering something before answering.
“Not really.”
Henry laughed awkwardly. He forced his hands between hers, interlacing his fingers with her left, pinioning on the other side with his left. A hand sandwich.
“Polly, now, ah… heh heh, we talked about coming down here to see Mr. Dykeman, remember how Mrs. Nagerly from next door said he was a fine doctor – oops, I called you Mr., I apologize, DOCTOR Dykeman–” (Dykemann nodded forgivingly at this).”.
“--and remember how she said he helped when Violet went through her…her…sadness?” He was pleading with her. When her eyes simply returned to the carpet and Henry looked imploring at Dr. Dykemann, he picked up his folder and decided to try a new route.
“Mr. Bichler–”
“Henry.”
“Henry, let’s review Pauline’s medical history if you don’t mind. I see here she has been prescribed Deprol in the past, was that not a good match?”
“Gee, no, she really just didn’t feel any better. Or with the Mornidine.”
Dr. Dykeman kept reading. “I see, yes, and Mrs. Bichler is 23 years old, is that correct?” Henry nodded. His embarrassment was creeping into his cheeks, and the smile was tighter.
“And I see here there was a miscarraige six months ago, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“WHAT is that NOISE?” Startled, both men stared at Pauline, who had suddenly turned her head to the window, eyes flashing angrily. She was breathing heavily.
“What? Oh - yes. I believe there’s a bird out there below the window. Either flew into it or maybe out of a nest. Chirpy little thing. I do apologize.” Dr. Dykemann rose and walked to the window, shutting it gently, but the sharp insistent chirps were still audible. Henry’s jaw was twitching.
“Dr. Dykemann, we don’t want to waste your time here. Now Polly here has been in quite a fog these last few months, and I don’t want to see her like this anymore. She’s not herself. We are newlyweds, and we should be celebrating our newlywed life, and I’ve had about enough of this moping and…and…sadness.” He released her hand and immediately regretted it, now having nowhere to put his hands, so he crossed them across his chest, looking very much like a put-out schoolboy.
“Mr. Bichler –”
“HENRY!” He yelled. Pauline’s blond head snapped up, and she met Dr. Dykemann’s eyes in a flash. Something imperceptible passed in the air between them, and he felt chilled.
Dragging his eyes back to Henry’s, he said, “I apologize. Henry. Tell me more about this fog.”
Henry sighed and stood. He walked around to the back of the couch, hands now on his hips.
“She sleeps late, every morning. She cries. She yelled at the neighbor boy for no reason. She was…” He stopped, unsure, and then continued in a lower voice. “She was…being inappropriate with the young lady who works at the grocery store. Right there in line, in front of everyone.”
“How was she inappropri–”
“SHE JUST WAS!!” Silence. The bird chirped outside, below. Pauline’s small smile flashed across her lips again, and Dr. Dykeman was not sure if he really saw it or not. Henry did not, as he was facing the window now.
Dr. Dykemann looked down at his desk, and took a cigarette from his shirt pocket pack. Pauline reached forward slightly, and he somehow knew she was asking for a cigarette also. Her eyes were still fixed on his. He cleared his throat awkwardly and handed one to her. Lighting his, he then pushed the glass ashtray towards her.
“Mr. Bi–Henry. Pauline. I understand you are asking for a referral for electroconvulsive therapy, seeing as how the previous medicinal treatments have not been successful. Of course this is a fairly new procedure, but studies are proving that by stimulating these neurological processes, we can alleviate depression and general malaise, and perhaps…make our little ladies a little less sad?” He hoped she would smile at this last part, and not find it as condescending as he felt, but she simply looked back down at the carpet. He went on. “I can get you in for 3 preliminary sessions at Creedmoor next month, and we can check back then, how does that sound, Mrs. Bichler?”
“Does it hurt?” The lavender voice was light again. Curious.
“Pardon?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh no, dear, not at all. You will feel a little sleepy for a few days but after that passes, you won’t really have to worry or think about these sad things anymore.”
“Like the baby?” Henry looked miserably at Dr. Dykemann.
“Um. Yes. Of course. I’m sure that loss was tremendous.”
“And the dog?” This time Dr. Dykemann looked questioningly at Henry, who sighed and shook his head. He sat back down on the couch.
“We…had a dog. It ran away. I think. We don’t really know.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that also, Mrs. Bichler. Would you like to talk about the dog?” Henry stretched his back and sighed again, a little too loudly.
“No.” she said. Dr. Dykemann felt sad for her, and for all these little fussy housewives that seemed to revolve through his door. If their husbands wanted to placate them, give them a place to rant their petty jealousies and workaday inadequacies, he was happy to take their money. Most didn’t have much to discuss, and just came for more pills. However, Pauline seemed to be different than most.
“I think…I think I’d like to try the electroconvulsion. Therapy.” She glanced timidly at Henry for the first time, who smiled approvingly, the white teeth gleaming like a wolf’s mouth. He had so many teeth.
“I think I’d like to forget all the things…all the things.” she went on with a waver. Henry’s smile faded.
“Of course, dear,” the doctor said reassuringly. “You certainly deserve some peace of mind, and there’s nothing wrong with getting some assistance with that. So. It’s settled then?”
“The dog didn’t run away.” she said abruptly. Henry gave a short snorty laugh.
“I’m sorry?”
“The dog didn’t run away,” she repeated. “It was in the alley.” Dr. Dykemann looked to Henry, who just shook his head.
“Dogs get hurt sometimes, Polls, we’ve talked about this. They get sick, too.” Her eyes returned to the carpet while Henry smiled reassuringly at no one. “We don’t really know what happened.” The doctor nodded, hoping his reassuring manner would outweigh his confusion. Henry went on, “Yes, thank you, I think three sessions is a great way to get us…uh…started. Right, Polls?” She nodded slowly and only once, and it absurdly reminded Dr. Dykemann of the kung fu movie he had seen recently.
“Very well then. I’ll have my girl call you with the appointment details. You’ll need to have someone drive you home of course, after each session. And I’d like to see you again in a few weeks, Pauline, okay?” Another slow nod-head bow.
Henry anchored his arm under her armpit and almost lifted her from the couch.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said, her eyes suddenly wet.
“Yes, thank you, good afternoon.” Henry propelled her to the door, and Dr. Dykemann sat back down at his desk. Then, reconsidering, he rose and walked to the window, where he could still hear chirping. He spotted a golf-ball sized fluff of feathers hopping in and out of a bush near the sidewalk, and then Henry and Pauline Bichler walking to their light green Riviera, his arm guiding her like a ship’s rudder. Suddenly she jerked her arm backwards swiftly, and although he couldn’t see her face from the angle of the window, he knew she was staring with flashing eyes at, into, and through Henry, whose face became rigid, his body tense.
As she continued to face him, the dancing fluff ball squawked angrily again, this time quite near her navy heels. Quickly, she lifted her heel slightly and then lowered it decisively, and the chirping stopped. Henry quickly turned away and got into the car, leaving her to open her own door. In shock, Dr. Dykemann continued to stare, disgusted by the small pile of feathers and guts beneath her shoe. She turned and looked up at the window, knowing he was watching, and smiled before getting in the car, carefully minding her hat.
Report abuse