The literary magazine of Hagerstown Community College
Dareian Griffith
The Promise
Shameful stares seek her out,
cascade her mind; dreadful doubt.
Clutching strong, her internal life,
the promise: it will be alright.
This hard path ahead she knows,
yet leaving her bed her smile glows.
And through it all, she’ll persevere,
slowly but surely, life’s lesson becoming clear.
The words she hears, it’s worth the while,
but until we meet… dreaming of your precious smile.
David Winger
The Truth
Chan sat atop the mountain meditating. The clouds, plants, animals, soldiers and rebels all moved around him as he breathed in and breathed out. As he came out of his meditation, he thought how it was nice to take a break from the constant thinking and willfulness his mind, one of man’s greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses as well. He looked at the valley below and saw everything playing its role in the game of existence. Some seemed wonderful, others appeared horrific; all necessary and coexisting. Monks often acted as if removed from this cycle, existing only to contemplate, but Chan knew otherwise. One could think himself in circles and put himself in a kind of philosophical paralysis. Chan had experienced this when he was younger, but now he knew he had a part to play. Whether he enjoyed or agreed with it didn’t matter. He would simply tell the truth; no more, no less.
That was his part and it was enough. He could no longer hide in the forest or the monastery; once he had walked amongst the people and seen their suffering, he knew he was part of this war with or without his consent. Nothing exists in isolation and when it rains you either hide or get wet. Chan could no longer hide.
As he contemplated, he saw a platoon of the self-appointed Emperor’s soldiers coming up the mountain as if on cue. He sat calmly.
A young man walked ahead of the rest. The young and inexperienced were often sent ahead to seek or draw out the enemy so the rest of the platoon was not surprised or ambushed. The young man yelled for his Commander upon seeing Chan.
The Commander walked towards him, more than confident and with a look of impatience.
“Where have the rebels gone, Monk? I know they passed this way. I have been tracking them. The stupid peasants all but drew me a map,” said the Commander.
“I would rather not say. What you seek will lead only to your death and to that of your men. Please turn back.”
“Ha, I knew you would say some cowardly nonsense.” The Commander pulled out his sword and held it at Chan’s throat.
“Either tell me what I seek or you will die after I will burn down your precious monastery and the nearby village. I have no time or desire for advice or philosophy.”
“That path,” Chan said, pointing. “The steep one, but I warn you it will be your death.”
“Your words are wasted, and know if you have mislead me I shall return and reap suffering you never thought possible,” said the Commander with fire in his eyes.
“I have spoken true; it is against my creed to do otherwise,” Chan replied.
“I know. That’s why I love finding one of your “creed” to question. Most are smart enough to hide,” the Commander boasted, smiling to the junior Officer beside him.
“And others are smart enough to listen. Do what you must,” Chan said indifferently.
The Commander turned and ordered his troops to go down the steep, rocky path. They sheathed their weapons to do so, their armor making the climb difficult. Once they got half way down, a group of rebels ambushed them. Dug in, waiting and well hidden, they surrounded and killed the better equipped soldiers. By the time most of the soldiers had gotten decent footing and drew their weapons they had fallen victim to the rebels’ stream of arrows.
Chan heard the sounds of men killing and dying, then he heard the song of a bird. They mixed together and sounded both horrific and beautiful. This is life, he reflected: horrific and beautiful. Guilt swept over him without his consent as he heard the Commander beg for his life in vain, even though the man had threatened to kill him only moments ago. He reminded himself he had been true to his vows and told the truth, even though he had omitted an important detail.
Chan looked at a beautiful cloud passing by, and felt a pain in his stomach. It was not due to the death occurring nearby or the role he had played in it, but to hunger. He had been on this mountain all day and hadn’t eaten. He walked back to the monastery debating his role in all of this, as if turning the same subject over in his head for the thousandth time would change it or bring a new revelation. He came to the same conclusion he always did; tyrants oppress, rebels rebel and he would tell the truth.
Sara Martens
Siren
Ahaunting melody echoes within his mind, ensnaring the witless fool. She emerges from the shadows: a woman of impossible beauty, the epitome of desire. The curves of her body sway enticingly as she approaches. Such eager prey. Pathetic. With distain, she watches his body collapse to the alley street. Her dagger embedded in his chest, her immortal heart is alive once more, racing from the thrill of a man’s demise.
Michael Johnson
Liege
Drowned in ash and choked by smoke
And silence hears the measure
A deathly hymn on tattered cloths
And a city left to wither.
Ragged wings of scarlet red
And the prideful stayed their absence
Said the cries of the suffered dead
And the leader boast his status.
Crack the stone and salt the fields
And burn down the pyre.
Shattered bones on a broken throne
And the king they crowned a liar.
Jessica Seipler
When Worlds Collide
A soft, piano entrance
Of a decorated Andromeda
Betrothed to a monster
Whose only hope in life
Is death itself
And so it came
Swiftly as a sword
And so came the music
That poured from his soul…
A crescendo from minor to major
Vivace and mezzo forte
Until the sun imploded
In a supernova of fire
Illuminating the sky
In colors like never before
And so it was seen
Once and for all
That this savage serpent
Was in fact a beautiful beast.
Wesley Yeager
Nonetheless
Her eyes watch you, staring deeply into your soul.
But you don’t see her.
You survey yourself daily and primp while she laughs.
But you don’t hear her.
She is there nonetheless.
Through your eyes she can see your secrets.
But you don’t know it.
She probes your mind while you are unaware.
But you don’t feel it.
In the corner of your eye you can see her.
But you ignore it.
She appears in front of you every day.
But you forget it.
She changes things occasionally, just for you.
But you don’t notice.
She screams at you, tries to terrify you.
But you don’t listen.
You can feel her sometimes, after a scary movie.
But you push it aside.
You feel her eyes staring across the room.
But you just try to sleep.
In the middle of the night you wake, sweating.
But you don’t think of her.
She sends shivers down your spine, chilling you.
But you rationalize instead.
She stands in your mirror, watching your life.
But you ignore her.
Until one day, she has you convinced she’s fake.
You go about your day.
That is when the mirror changes, it doesn’t reflect.
But you are asleep still.
It opens and she walks through, over to your bed.
You stir slightly, anxious.
She lifts you into her arms, gently as a lover, out of bed.
You smile to yourself.
And she carries you across the threshold, the mirror black.
You feel damp, cold.
You wake and scream, pounding against the mirror in vain.
She has your life.
You see her living on the other side, living the life you once had.
You beg and plead.
But she is there nonetheless.
Rachael Marion
Dreams
I take a deep breath and dive right under
I swim through the sifting sands
A scorpion glides right up to me
And pinches me in the toe
I scoop him up in my hands
Feeling the ripples above me sway
I let him go; he slides away.
Swimming along these strange lands
I wonder what I am to do
My breath is short; I lose my place
Falling ever under
A figure helps me surface, but who?
Gasping for air, I search all about
Feeling the loss of the one I’m without.
I’m in a new dream
There’s water around me now
But I fly, not swim
I have wings so silver they gleam
Yet again I don’t know how
I sense him floating around me
I see who it is, oh how can that be?
My one, my love!
My heart burst with joy
But how? I thought he had passed
I don’t care how he’s alive
All that matters is that I love this boy
I drift into his arms
He promises to protect me from harms.
But then he’s gone
I am alone and I cry
Why must nothing go my way?
I just want him back
Through all my wants I sigh
I know all the problems my wants will make
So slowly, sadly, I wake.
Vikki Rowe
Mirror, Mirror
I stared into the blue eyes of my reflection, twisting and kneading my short black hair. Though the bathroom was vacant of anyone else, I knew he was here. I could feel him.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
I could feel him twisting and slithering like a large serpent in the space around me. I closed my eyes as I heard his crooning voice whisper at the nape of my neck.
“Because I’m afraid you’re lonely, Holly.”
“I-I’m not lonely. Mother says you aren’t real,” I rebutted; however, my voice offered no confidence in this as it trembled and creaked beneath my nerves.
“You can hear me talking, can’t you? What? Are you going deaf now?”
I could feel my head sink with defeat as he was right. I could hear him.
“No. I can hear you. But…but she can’t.”
“I’m not talking to her now, am I?” he purred.
I shivered at the thought of him behind me; a large predator encircling his prey.
“No…you’re not. You’re talking to me.”
My submission was evident in the arrogance of his words. He was winning.
“Precisely. I can’t leave you alone, Holly. I won’t leave you alone. Then you’ll fall to every lie she tells you. She doesn’t love you. You know that, right? Every little thing she tells you is shit. And you believe it.”
I love mother. He was not allowed to speak to her as such!
“No…no…not always. She sounds so-”
He spun me around and I could finally see the demon lurking from the shadows. He was a slender man with black hair that was always hidden beneath a towering top hat and icy blue eyes that relayed every ounce of fear I was attempting to conceal.
“Truthful? Holly, Holly, Holly… lies are always meant to sound truthful. That’s why they’re lies. If they didn’t sound truthful, why would you believe them? Why would you fall for it every time, like you do? It’s a shame really…if I weren’t here, think of how daft you would be? It must be nice to live in an ignorant bliss, Holly.”
As he spoke the smile never left his face, only seeming to widen at the thought of his words impacting into my skull.
“But…I’m happy,” I said, softly. I wasn’t happy. How could I be? Mother was lying to me.
“That’s because I’m here. She’ll take me away. Then you’ll be alone with her lies. You’ll be happy with her lies. Is that what you want? Holly? Is it?”
He placed his firm hands on my shoulders as he spoke and I felt safe. He could never hurt me. He loved me. He was telling me the truth.
We both hesitated, hearing the rustling from down the hall and her footsteps soft upon the carpet.
“Holand! Who are you talking to?” she called.
I looked up at him and in that second I didn’t want to be left alone with her. What if she kept lying to me? His smile softened and he stood aside, never releasing his grip on me. “No one mother! I’m talking to myself!”
Wesley Yeager
Death Sentence
The chair felt like any other, cold at first, and then the longer one sat on it the warmer it became. It had handgrips that sadly showed their years quite prominently; such a variety of men and women whose very fingers had clutched these arms. The scrapes and dings on the surface of the chair showed its personality. Each scratch held a treasured story as tenderly as a mother holding new life. Yet in its whole life, this chair had only seen the darkness of man.