Shaker High School's Art & Literary Magazine
Typing the letters of my name,
Google tells me what I am.
Algae meter? No, I told Google.
Not how I feel. Try try again!
Gamete Earl, it said. I don’t
Like that one, but it’s better
sounding.
Meager Late. At least it’s
Something. Could be better.
I do like coffee.
LAME ERA GET?!?! No,
I am not lame, not cool
GOOGLE.
Eager metal! This is my favorite, I guess.
I am eager,
tough like a metal,
Thanks google.
The cabin isn’t the same as when we had arrived, I can’t remember how we arrived here; the woods are twisted, mangled; as if the world itself is wrong. I don’t remember it looking like this, why do the trees have eyes; red yet translucent maggots crawling in and out of them, a fog so red and thick it could be an ocean: my smiling friends hanging from the branches.
The natural stench of dirt fills my nose as I wake up trapped in a small rectangular box.
Disoriented, I can make out “may god rest his soul,” and my family crying above me.
I heard the faucet dripping again along with creaking, there’s nothing wrong with this, it happens all the time. That was the moment I saw my brother’s headless body hanging from the ceiling, that was when I realized what the creaking was.
As I answered the phone, I heard my dad’s hoarse voice. This made my skin crawl since today marks the five year anniversary since I murdered him.
The police are talking about me, “She’s a case gone cold,” the radio crackles and he turns to me, his navy blue uniform barely visible in the dark basement and his badge glinting in the dim light, “They’ve given up on you… any last words?”
There I stood, alone, cold, damp. I pulled my cloak tightly around me, trying to save as much heat as possible. I contemplated the direction that I take now, I was so content following the path that I just want to keep going forward. If I go left, I keep venturing into the forest, hoping to find my purpose that I’ve been looking for. If I go right to the village, I could also find the purpose I’ve been looking for. I hear music in the distance, accordions to my right and birds to my left. I see purpose in both paths, to the right I could prove myself as a useful person, but to the left I prove useful as an independent body. Ultimately, it’s my choice, but I’m so conflicted. I think I’m going to go my own way, make a new path, and head straight. Or I could turn around, now I’m conflicted again. I want to make my own path but go my own way. I’m confused now, the right path looks more worn, and the left seems more wild. I want to take the path less traveled but someone still has traveled it. You know what, never mind, I don’t know. Left, right, forward, backward. Well, I’m not going back, so backward is out. I don’t want to deal with people, so right it out. Now, forward or left. I think I’ll go left, but I do want to stay straight, it’s comforting. But I want to be uncomfortable, test myself. You know what, I’m done. I’m going left, and that’s that.
She sits on the icy swing
The air damp
Like her clothes
She listens
To the sound of the rain
Hitting the ground
As the wind softly blows against her face
Back and forth
She swings
Flying freely through the air
And the pouring rain
A thick breeze blows back
Her wet and tangled hair
So lost in thought
She almost doesn’t notice
A slight squeaking
Just off to the left
She sits frozen
The lonely night slowly fills
As she turns her head
Inch by inch
Ignoring her instincts
And her shaky hands
But once she looks
All that’s left is the swing
Rocking back and forth
And the reminiscence
Of what was once there.
Through the trails winding under canopies of half orange oak leaves she ran. Through the playground ringing of children’s screeches and the rustle of wood chips being buried beneath their quick feet. Through the vast expanse of pastureland dotted with cows deep in their morning graze. Through intersections met with children in strollers and their mothers. Through the back parking lot, a haven for the lone blue dumpster. Through Wertman Lane, tranquil on that Sunday morning, only the gentle whisper of a light autumn breeze to be heard.
It was no secret
I wasn’t hard hard to please
Just give me that little star shaped, sparkling, sticker
No bigger than a push pin yet as sparkly as a disco ball hanging in a forgotten ballroom,
The namesake STAR something that represents life, distance, freedom, and excellence.
They are given so sparingly from your teacher after you answer a question in class, from a friend on a hard day, or from the universe when one appears on your test when you get a 100%.
They sit there on the wax paper
ready to be peeled away to be separated from their joy to bring us JOY
Summer’s warmth, in the noonday light
Gentle waves, embrace the shore
Sun-kissed days, where laughter rings
Blossoms bloom in vibrant array
In summer’s arms we find delight
Winter’s cold, a silent night
Icy winds where snowflakes soar
Frost nights, where silence stings,
Frozen landscapes in shades of gray
Winter’s touch, a tranquil sight
Acres of land stretching in each direction of my front door
Sounds of the wind would harmonize with all the trees loudly whistling
Traces of my chickens left everywhere, their scent, feathers, food pellets
My water well, that creates the sound of rainfall, every time I walk past it.
My mothers garden that would stretch yards, filled with greenery and flowers
A driveway hundreds of feet long with a beautiful view of mountainous hills soaring across
My eyes were so used to this scene, nothing was exciting about it
Nor the sights, nor the sounds, nor my chickens
The drowsy city of Albany
Most gloomiest place on earth
First thought that came to mind: Dull
First color that came to mind: Gray
My first hope was to go back home
I have zero expectations when I look out the window
Everything looks the same as the street before
The contrast was so bright then it became so dull
Only on visual terms
I never fully learned to appreciate one moment of life’s reoccurrence
How could I possibly have high expectations for that next moment?
Learning to love you
Was like burning a bruised patch
Into my pale skin
I am a water sign
As tranquil as that sounds
My thoughts never seem to align
Disconnected from grounds, my mind knows no bounds
I write, draw, read, and bake
but that’s only a piece
because no matter what I make
it’s always the process that brings me peace
I once grasped my identity
Now I’m just lost
Desperately seeking serenity
I wonder what that will cost
Far
So far from reality
It’s truly bizarre
how I’m patching my life with morality
I was once adamant
about what I was destined for
Now I’m stagnant
Wanting nothing more
Inure
to things I never thought could endure
but I continue to ensure
that these scenarios will only let me mature
I am whatever the universe makes of me
So much potential wasted
apathy
manipulated