Gavin Swain: "Immovable, Unstoppable"

Sit down my old friends and let me tell you a story, you like stories don't you? Well, this is not a conventional story, like the one with a hero and a villain. This is a story unlike any other.
There was a man who, no matter what was thrown at him, would never bend or break. He would stand his ground and plant his feet, unable to move, he was deemed the immovable man. When the entire world went one way, he would stand his ground and make his own path, standing out amongst the crowd.
There was another, a lady, who no matter what stood in front of her, would never stop moving forward. She would break through any obstacle  presented to her. No matter what way the world turned, she would forge her own path. No matter what stood in her way, she was deemed the unstoppable woman.
One day it seemed like fate stepped in and pushed the unstoppable woman in the right direction, moving her in the direction of the immovable man. She met him while she was passing through a small town on her own business. He was standing tall and proud in front of her, hands on his hips and a smile on his face- she only came about to his shoulders. He had an energy about him that reminded her of the warm sun shining upon a tree which she would sit under when she was younger.
"Could you point me in the right direction?" She said with a light voice.
Her voice.
It was like the sound of the ocean crashing against the jagged rocks of the shore, harsh and gruff, but a certain beauty that drew people in, but could just as easily push them away.
"Of course," said the immovable man, "it's right over that way, but I have to warn you, it's very dangerous that way. Do you need someone to help you? I could." The immovable man's voice took her aback slightly. She expected a rougher voice, hardened with the burdens of life, but instead he spoke softly, like a blanket on a cool night under the stars.
"No, I can do it myself. I'll be just fine." The unstoppable woman said, a little more harshly than she would've liked.
"Ok, I'll be here if you need any help." The immovable man called after her.
The area he alluded to was a giant maze. She couldn't tell it from where she interacted with the man, but this maze was massive; it twisted and turned for miles and miles. It was full of dead ends and wrap arounds that spit her out where she had already been. She ran through it and tackled it head on. The maze would throw obstacle after obstacle at her, but she was so stubborn, hardheaded, and strong that she would meet whatever was thrown at her with unrelenting force. The maze’s walls would shift suddenly to cut her off from the path, but she would just grunt, turn, and go back the way she came from to find another passage.
She traversed this landscape for what seemed like forever. She was tired, and alone, and for the first time ever, she wasn't sure if she could keep going. It had seemed like she had scoured every passage the maze had to offer and she still hadn’t found the exit. When a wall would shift in front of her, she wouldn’t run back the way she came. She would hunch over exhausted, it took all her willpower to keep going. More than anything she wanted to get out of this maze, to find the exit and move on with her journey. But in the darkest of hours she gave up, she collapsed, she couldn't keep going.
"Now do you need some help?" A booming, yet gentle voice exclaimed behind her.
His voice.
At this moment, his voice was a welcomed escape, like a vacation that was long overdue. It was like a blanket that wrapped around her, comforting her and making her feel safe.
The unstoppable woman rose to her feet and shouted, "I told you, I don't need your help, I can do this by myself." In a harsh tone she had never heard come from her mouth before, she shaded with surprise at the amount of anger in her voice. She expected him to turn and forsake her, to leave her stranded in the maze for the rest of her days. She was afraid for the first time in her life. Afraid that the man would leave her, she found herself longing for him to take her far away from this place. She was frozen with fear because she was certain he would leave. But he didn't. Instead he smiled a warm smile and continued walking towards her.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "I know the way out, I could show you if you want me to."
She took his hand and let him guide her. They went down corridors that spiraled downward like stairs. They took shortcuts, and doubled back whenever he accidentally made a wrong turn. When the walls would begin to shift, the immovable man would sprint forward to stand in front of the wall and he would keep it from closing, allowing the woman to slip by.
When they were walking together through the maze the man desperately wanted to talk with the woman, but everytime he thought of something he could say, he second guessed himself and decided it was best not to speak. The woman saw he would turn to her, mouth open and eyes wide with excitement, only to turn to the ground in disappointment.
He was nervous to talk to her.
She decided to take matters into her own hands, so she turned to the man and asked, “So who exactly are you? I know you know your way through here, or at least I’m hoping you do.”
The immovable man sighed a relieving breath and chuckled, “I’m known as the Immovable Man. I encountered this maze many years ago, and I found my way out on my own, but I decided I would go back and help people through it.”
The unstoppable woman looked at the immovable man right in the eyes. His eyes were a gray blue color and held more feeling than any eyes she had ever seen. She wasn’t sure what to say to him so she opted for, “Alrighty,” and kept walking forward.
The immovable man couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt his cheeks growing warm. She was as bad at talking as he was, he thought that was cute. He started her way trying to catch up to her as she turned right down a corridor, “The right way is this way, he pointed to his left.”
She stopped in her tracks and whirled around on her heel and strutted past the man, “I knew that,” she chuckled, “I was just testing you.” She wagged a finger at him as she strutted past. The immovable man was dumbfounded at her confidence, he admired it.
Every once in a while he caught her looking at him. He didn’t mind really, because an equal amount of times she caught him looking at her. She was unlike anyone he had helped through before. She was strong. Just taking a glance at her you could tell she was., She had short blonde hair in a bun on the top of her head that bounced when she walked.
It was nearing nightfall. “I think we should stop here for the night, and we can pick back up in the morning. Normally people don’t make it this far in one day. Usually we stop halfway back there.” The immovable man said with a semi weary voice. He put his back against the maze wall and slid down it.
The unstoppable woman didn’t realize it, but she was feeling tired too. Her legs and arms were heavy and she felt her eyelids grow heavy too. She slid down the wall next to the immovable man, and before she realized what she was doing she laid her head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.
The man looked down at her sleeping face, and for the first time in a while he felt peace. He laid his head against hers and shivered. It was getting colder, which must mean they were getting closer to the exit. He drifted off to sleep as he shielded her from the cold wind blowing from the path ahead.
The unstoppable woman woke to the immovable man’s shivering next to her. She got to her knees and grabbed his arm and shook him awake, “What happened? Why are you shaking?”
The immovable man got to his feet and helped her up, "We are nearing the end, that means the maze is going to throw everything it has at us to keep us trapped." The man looked at his feet and took the woman's hands in his, "You have to promise me, no matter what you'll keep hold of my hand. I don't want to lose you this close to the end."
He felt the women's hands tighten in his, "Don't worry," said the woman looking up at him. She put a finger under his chin and lifted his head so he could look her in the eyes, "I promise I won't let go."
The immovable man took her hand and guided her down the last corner where she was taken aback by what she saw. There was a frozen wasteland that stretched between them and the exit, with swirling winds and freezing temperatures, rough terrain and unsure footing. For the first time in a long, long time she was unsure if she'd make it.
The immovable man looked down at her, sensing she was unsure about the last leg. He turned to her and took both of her hands and looked her in the eye. "I know you're scared, I can see it in your eyes, but know I will be with you every step of the journey. If you ever falter, I will be there to pick you up."
The man's voice melted her heart, and she tightened her grip on his hand and nodded to him. They turned together to face the blizzard and stepped into it. Immediately she began to shiver as the cold air stung every inch of her being. She buried her face into the immovable mans shirt, and he wrapped her arms around him. He lifted her off the ground and carried her most of the way to the end, only stopping one time to make sure she was okay.
The cold was unbearable, the air stung her face as they made the trec, but the man never stopped. When they finally reached the end, she looked up at the man’s face. It looked the same as it did when they first met, kind and soft. He set her down and gestured towards the landscape in front of him, “This is it, the end. I wish you the best of luck on the rest of your journey.” The immovable man dropped his gaze and mumbled, “I’ll miss you.”
Reality finally sank in. This was the end. This would be the last time she would get to hold onto his hand, the last time she got to feel powerful with someone.
She surveyed the landscape laid out before her. It was breathtaking. Beautiful grassy fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Gorgeous animals frolicked in the fields without a care in the world. It truly looked like paradise.
“This makes it all worthwhile.” The immovable man quietly said. She looked up and saw, instead of his usual happy expression, pain. “It’s just harder this time.” The man squeaked out looking at his feet.
The woman put a finger under his chin and lifted his head to look into his eyes, “What will you do now?”
“I’ll go back to the beginning, and wait for someone else to stumble upon the maze. Someone always does.” The man grabbed her hand and kissed it, “I wish you the best of luck with everything you do. Whatever you come across, I know you’ll find a way to get through it. I believe in you.”
The unstoppable woman’s eyes filled with tears, “Why don’t you come with me? We could journey together.”
The immovable man stood a little taller, “My place is here. There will always be someone who stumbles upon the maze. They will get lost, and I have to be here to guide them through it. You don’t know how many people have been lost forever in there.” The man turned back to face the blizzard.
The unstoppable woman turned to look at the field stretched out in front of her. Thenshe turned and looked at the man, and he looked sorrowful. She turned to face the blizzard with him and shoved her hand into his, “I want to stay with you. I’ve never met anyone like you. We can show them together.”
The man smiled and glanced at her. Without another thought, they both disappeared into the swirling winds.

Orrin Bromm: "Locked"

501 West Franklin Street, this blue one has got to be it. Turn the radio down; no just pause it. 

I press the black knob and the kick drum and singing stops. Press the breaks and turn my wheel as the gravel shifts under my tires. Put my car in park as I look towards the door.

Oh my god…

Here she comes across the porch towards my car already, and she’s more beautiful in person than in the pictures she’s been sending me. 

Get the door, gotta keep it classy.

I get out from the drivers side and reach the passenger door as I smile and open it for her.

“Thank you!” she says as she smiles at me.

  

As close to the door as you can, keep her out of the cold.

I find a place as close to the theater entrance as I can. I put my car in park, turn to her and say, “Well, we’ve got about twenty minutes before we really need to go in.”

She leans over, and places her alluring lips on mine.

… 

She sits back in her seat, looks forward out the windshield and her cheeks are rose.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done that before!”

“Uhm, what exactly was that,” I ask with a smile.

What was that! I don’t even care, just do it again. No, wait for later, that’s how to do it.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve never kissed anyone on a first date, I don’t know what I was doing. I just felt like I could kiss you.” she said as she looked down in her lap, smiling the whole time.

“Don’t say sorry, I never said I didn’t like it.”

She leaned over to kiss me again.

You said later. You like her, but you said later, lay out some gentleman rules.

“How about later, hmm?” I said as I grabbed her shoulders lightly, catching her mid lean.

“Ugh!” She smiled, and sat back in her seat.

I smiled, opened my door, and grabbed my things. She got out and followed me inside. I let her buy the tickets like she insisted. “I’ve got a couple of coupons actually,” she laughed as she pulled them out of her clutch purse.

  

When the movie was over, we went back to my car talking. 

And the door.

I got the door again for her, and she just smiled at me this time. I walked around to my side, and got in, but didn’t bother buckling. 

She’s gonna do it again. I’d bet five bucks on it.

I looked towards her this time, expecting her to lean over again. She looked at me and said, “What, you think I’m gonna kiss you again? You said later, remember?” She threw a sideways smile at me with that, most likely being amused thinking she’d played my words against me.

“Well it’s later isn’t it? I said that about three hours ago,” I retorted, throwing the same piquant smile and sass back to her.

“You’re right,” she said. As her smile grew from ear to ear, she leaned forward, placed her hand on the back of my neck, and her lips met mine. This time I let myself be unbarred, and leaning towards her slightly I placed my hand on her side. 

And at 11:41, I took her home.

The clock on the mantle chimes early like it always does. It says it’s 5:55, but it’s usually about five minutes fast.

You’ve got about ten minutes until Mya and Melayna will be here. Go shower, and put on something casual, but well fit. 

I went downstairs and showered as quick as I could, but it still wasn’t quick enough. My mother came downstairs and said to me through the door, “Mya and her sister are here.”

“Okay,” I replied, rinsing my long hair out with urgency. I couldn’t neglect what Mya liked most.

Later when she was sitting behind me on the couch, she insisted I let her braid my hair.

I’ve told myself time and time again I won’t let girls braid my hair, but hey, here’s to betting there’s a lot of things I’d do for her that I wouldn’t do for others.

While she was playing with my locks, ‘Take Me To Church’ by Hozier came on.

I haven’t heard this in at least a couple years.

Just as quickly as I started singing the first verse, she did too. Her sweet alto voice and my rich bass had harmonized well, but as we sang the song, it was as if it was written for us. She got done braiding my hair, and took a video on my phone to immortalize her masterpiece. She leaned over my shoulder, and pressed her cheek on mine as we rocked from side to side, singing, “Offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.” Right then she laughed again.

I’ve got the prettiest, funniest, most wonderful woman in the world leaning and laughing on me, and she thinks she’s the lucky one…

When the song was done I’d had enough of the braid and took it out, giving her back the violet scrunchie she’d stuck in my hair. We sang more songs, talked with Tate and Melayna, and did whatever else we could to entertain ourselves. Nine o’clock came too soon, and her and her sister had to go home. 

I walked them to her car outside, and she was slightly ahead of me. Her sister came out behind me and elbowed me in the ribs saying, “You need to ask her out.”

“What do you mean ask her out? We’re going out.”

“So you are her ‘boyfriend’,” she asked giving me a very peculiar face.

“No, you can date someone and not be their significant other. That by no means doesn’t mean I don’t want to be her boyfriend.”

But you push your luck too far now, and you’ll blow whatever could be ahead. Don’t be stupid.

“Just ask her,” she said as we came up to Mya’s car.

I walked over hurriedly to the drivers side

The door.

I got the door for her, though she knew it was coming, and tried to beat me to the handle. When my hand reached it before hers, she just rolled her eyes at me as she got it. Tate had now found his way outside and was talking to Melayna in the passenger seat.

Make it obvious that you want to be something more, but don’t push it. Just don’t be discreet.

“You know, I’ve known you for ten days now, and have seen you more than half of those days. Sounds something like a boyfriend you know?” 

“Mmm, is that what that sounds like?”

“I don’t know, it’s just what someone told me. Guess it doesn't matter what it sounds like to me though, just matters what you think now doesn’t it?”

She gave me a witty answer to every witty comment I made over the next couple of minutes. Eventually she had to go though, and closed the door after I gave her a kiss. Before she rolled down the driveway though, she rolled down her window, looked back at me and said, “Yes, I’m your girlfriend now.” With that, she rolled her window back up and went on her way back home.

  

Car is washed, Tuxedo is pressed and laid out, wallet and keys are next to it, and phone is charging. Just got to take a shower and get dressed before I go get Mya. 

Hands in my pockets and not bothering to crack a smile, I stood and let my mother take more photos than necessary before she let me head out the door. After what felt like an hour of reassuring her I’d let her know where we were taking pictures, I managed to get to my car and head towards Mya’s house.

Thirteen minutes early, nice.

I pulled into their driveway right as Tate pulled in behind me. As I closed my car door, he walked up to me, arm stretched out for a hug saying, “Wassup brother?” 

“Just ready to have a good time with you buddy,” I said as I embraced him like a brother.

We went inside where Meleyna was ready for Tate, but Mya took a couple more minutes before we could leave.

I’m early, but I like to make her squirm a little.

A grin cracked across my face as she walked down the hallway into the kitchen and I saw her for what felt like the first time, for the thousandth time. “You’re stunning baby girl,” I said for lack of better words.

She’s gonna hate me for this.

I opened the door for her which she rolled her eyes at and just said, “I can get that myself.”

“I know, but I like getting it, makes me feel important,” I said as a smile unfurled across my face.

After stopping several places for pictures, working out some last minute dinner reservation issues, and killing some time, I drove us back to the high school for the dance. Walkthroughs weren’t what I expected. Frankly I don’t know what I expected, maybe a bigger production of it maybe, but it was enjoyable all the same. I spent the next few hours dancing in a circle of people, most of which I didn’t know, but my world was always on my arm dancing with me, so I could have cared less.

Now this is what makes Prom all that it’s cracked up to be. I wouldn’t want to be spending it with anyone else.

The dance was supposed to get over at 11 p.m. but about 9:30 I could tell Mya’s head was hurting her. She was still smiling and putting on a show for everyone, but I knew her well enough and picked up on her little idiosyncrasy she had when she wasn’t feeling well. 

“We can go now, babe,” I whispered in her ear.

She shook her head at me and said, “ No, I don’t want to go.”

We stayed and danced some more until about 10 when I convinced her to go home and rest before we went to the after, which she insisted on going to. She wanted to get a picture sitting on my lap with me holding her before we left though. So she gave her phone to her sister and sat curled up on my lap with my arms around her as we both smiled for the picture.

This, just feels so right.

We checked ourselves out of the dance, and I got the door for her in the parking lot. She was too tired to even give me heck for it. We waited a minute before Tate and Meleyna found their way outside and too the car, and then we headed back to Mya’s house. 

Her mother welcomed us all back and asked how the dance was. I waited for the girls to change before I changed into some more casual clothes to lounge around in before we headed to the after party. I was laying on the couch, watching some show on tv I didn’t recognize, with Mya curled up on my chest. I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, but if I had to guess I’d say she was awake because everyone else in the room was talking sonorously despite my asking them to keep quiet. 

See I’d be fine spending the rest of the night here myself.

She was awake when I told her we needed to be leaving if we were going to go to the party. She sat up, got her shoes on when Melayna handed them to her, and we headed out the back door. I got her door for her again to which she finally smiled, “Thank you,” to me.

Go ahead and take a shower, she’ll be done with practice when you get out.

I washed off any evidence that I’d been at practice this evening, and when I got back to my room, I dropped my bag full of homework next to my desk. I situated myself on my bed and Facetimed Mya. She was on her way home from the University having just gotten out of cheer practice. 

I spent the next two and a half hours talking with her, asking about how her day was and how practice was going. I told her about starting my Senior year, and how the football team was looking. I managed to craftily find out some information for her Christmas present I was planning for her. Eventually though, 1:00 a.m. came around, and we both needed to fall asleep. 

“I love you,” she said to me.

“Yeah, but I love you a little more,” I said with a smirk just to rile her up.

I laid there with her on the phone still like I always do, because she doesn’t like to be alone. She always tells me it’s kind of like me being there with her, and she falls asleep easier.

She’s got so much going on between cheer, work, college, and everything else… She tells me not to worry about it, it’s not going to affect us in any way. But I can’t help but worry...

God I just wish I could breath.

I polished off the last of the medicine in the cabinet as I kept belligerently fighting the sickness which had been ailing me for the last nine days. I drudged through the day just looking forward to when Mya would get done with cheer practice and looking at the picture of her all dressed up for church she’d sent me that morning. 

“I Love You” was captioned both in words and in the smile she had adorned.

That evening I missed her first Facetime call at 9:27, and called her back promptly at 9:30. As soon as I heard her voice, I could hear something foreboding in it. I knew the sound for what it was, and it spoke to me before she said a word that I actually heard. I saw goodbye in her eyes. She let it come over me easy, but she was kind enough not to waste time before she told me , “I think it’d be best if we were just friends right now. With all of the things going on between school, work, cheerleading, and my family, there isn’t enough time to think about when to see you next, let alone see you.”

I didn’t hear anything except for wisps of the rest of what she said.

There isn’t anyway you can change her mind. At least not now.

She wanted to go, so the phone call only lasted nine minutes, unlike any other.

I know her well enough, I want to change her mind... but I know I can’t. She’s too strong willed for that…

Just let me get the car door one more time. 
But the door’s locked.

Sophie Berberich: "Fool's Gold"

The sun washes everyone and everything in a soft orange hue, taking the edge off all sharp edges. Everyone and everything appeared a little warmer… a little kinder.

I look down at the yellow material barely covering my slightly browned skin. When I woke up this morning to the beating sun, I knew that it was the perfect day to wear this dress. This little sundress with the swirling shades of yellow, and the tiny white flowers meticulously stitched among the soft seams.

As the heat of it’s soothing embrace soaks into my aged skin, it dawns on me just how much I relish it’s company. His presence makes it a little harder to accept the fact that I won’t be on this earth for much longer.

It’s the kind of yellow that fills my mind with memories of warm days spent basking in a humble sort of heat. I’m so happy that the sun finally decided to show his face again.

I used to spend days dwelling on how cold and unforgiving this earth can be, but now, as I stand outside looking at its beauty, I can’t help but want to turn back time and slap myself across the face.

Breathe in, breathe out. I inhale the rich sweetness of the fresh spring air. As I fill my lungs with its scent, a feeling of new beginnings sweeps throughout my body. I’d decided earlier that today was a good day to do without shoes, and I plunge my toes into the soft green grass. I am glad I hadn’t worn shoes.

I almost wish it were still cold out. If my ancient bones were still rattling beneath my leathery skin, maybe then I would welcome the inevitable movement of time. Maybe then, it would be easier to say goodbye. Then, I am almost certain, I would welcome death. But of course, here is the sun, that bright orange ball hanging in the sky that I have always loved so dearly. It has grown up with me; watched me as I fell from my new bicycle and marred my skin on the tough asphalt. Watched me as I fell in love, hard and fast with a young naive heart that believed it was indestructible. And now, is watching me as I am falling closer and closer to the end of it all.

If I look closely, I can see tiny flowers springing up from the earth in little specks of baby blue and lilac. A soft breeze whistles through my dress, sending it from my legs and into the open air. The shades of yellow intermingle with the wind, and I relish the heat against my skin. Invisible strings pull at the corners of my lips, and my mind is lulled with quiet thoughts of tiny, meaningless nothings.

I enter the park, and suddenly, I feel out of place. As I drag my heavy feet across the paved walkway, I gaze longingly at this small group of children, playing in a bed of grass by the swingset. I don’t understand how this could be, but the grass, touched by their tiny toes, seems a little more vibrant than the surrounding patches. Their sporadic squeals of childlike innocence and joy floats in the air, and makes my bones feel a little less fragile. I offer a weak smile as I pass, the strongest thing I could muster, but they don’t notice my old decrepit body, and if they did, they probably wouldn’t glance twice. Why did I even think that I could mean anything to them? Or anyone for that matter.

Suddenly, I notice a dark figure pierce through the perfect spring setting. It was hard to look away from him; his weary dark body stood in stark contrast against his youthful surroundings. A feeling of uneasiness sweeps throughout my body as I see each little line deeply engraved into his leathered skin. The air suddenly feels thick and heavy, and I struggle to fill my lungs with anything at all. My stomach sinks to the deepest recesses of my body. My young, drawn eyes meet his, and they lock for a brief second, before they shift towards the sidewalk once more.
Gone. Just like that, he has passed. His eyes linger in my mind, haunting every corner. I felt as if those expired eyes, that had burrowed themselves so deep into his decaying skin, spoke to me in a way that escapes words. They held secrets, memories that would never be brought to the light. The air no longer feels fresh and youthful, instead a stench of rotten, decaying fruit hangs thick around me. A chill rushes up my spine, gently touching each bone in my body, and I feel as if his wise, old eyes are still watching me.

I notice a young girl, sitting on a browned bench that closely resembled the shade of her skin. She had on this yellow dress; the brightest yellow I have ever seen. The colors seemed to leap out from the fabric, and fill the air with a warm, comforting aura. Suddenly, her eyes blankly look toward me, and just as quickly turn away. Of course. Why would young pretty eyes care to look at such a grotesque form of a being. As I pass her by, I whisper goodbye. Not just to her, but to all of my surroundings that I will not open my eyes to see another day. To the children playing in that vibrant green grass, who have no inkling of death. To the birds singing their sweet song, filling the air with a comfort that I hate to leave. To the sun, that has been one of the only constants yet has flown before my eyes like a dream. If only they could grasp the concept that soon, their skin will be aged like mine, and they too will have to accept the quickening pace of time.

Suddenly, this dress is not warm enough.

Tyler Johnston: "A Final Whisper"

The first thing I noticed was the cold-no it was something unnatural. Not a type of chill that made you shiver or left your breath hanging in the air; it was something that didn’t feel like it came without consequence. I couldn’t pinpoint the words with which to describe the feeling, it felt as if the adjectives necessary were at the edges of my mind, tantalizingly close to being uncovered.

I looked down at my feet and saw that I was wearing my favorite sunshine-yellow sneakers that had kept me company on those tiresome school days; when nothing seemed to go right those sneakers were a miniature sun in my dreary world. That had been years ago; they were lost now, abandoned in the back of some closet; yet the firmness of the shoes was brand new was lost in this abyss, they were almost an extension of my feet, and seemed to mold themselves around me effortlessly.

Now, beyond my feet, there was a ceaseless expanse of nothingness. My feet stayed firmly planted before I got the confidence to carefully set my foot down into space ahead of me. It held, and when that worked I took another step. Then another. I continued to travel through this dark space, unaware of where I was or how I had gotten here. This had to be a dream of sorts, otherwise, I would be falling to my doom, right?

    I stopped looking down at my feet, still taking care to lightly bring my foot down with each step. As I looked up I saw an old hickory table a ways away that appeared to be old and worn down, but still usable and a feeling that it belonged where it was. There, at the side of the table sat a figure with its back turned to me, and somehow the very reality around them was warped to make the person unrecognizable. As I approached, I heard a voice inside my head, my voice.

    “Take a seat, dear.”

    There was another chair next to them, and as I finally got close, I pulled the chair out and took my place next to them. And the chills were gone. I felt a type of warmness and a smile spread across my face. I closed my eyes and relished in the feeling of warmth that spread throughout my body. It wasn’t warm like a temperature, but warm like whenever your friend decides to pull you into a big bear hug because you just looked a little down. Warm not with temperature, but with love.

    “Take as much time as you need. You’re in control here sweetheart.”

    Sweetheart. I couldn’t remember a single time whenever that pet name had been used to address me, but images began to flash as if a slideshow were playing in my mind. I saw my mother walking into our house, and I saw the scream escape her lips, yet heard nothing. That image then disappeared, replaced with a hospital urgently wheeling some unresponsive soul through the halls. I could tell they were shouting, but again I heard no sound. The scene before me faded out only to be a room in the same hospital. It was nighttime and the moon was basking light across a young woman’s face. She seemed somehow familiar, and I could almost remember her name. but the image was gone before I could put my finger on it. Belatedly I realized that I was still in this darkness sitting next to someone at an old hickory table.

    I asked the person if I could go home, but my voice hitched in the middle of the sentence. The rest of my words were reduced to sobs. I usually wasn’t one for tears, yet it didn’t feel bad to cry here. Without saying a word the person next to me made me feel like I could cry for eternity in this void. I might have if I didn’t feel slender hands touch my shoulder to comfort me. Without flinching at the sudden physical contact, I moved in and wrapped my arms around their body. I cried into their shoulder because here, at this old table in the middle of nowhere, I knew what this place meant for me. I thought of my past, and it was nice to recollect my memories. Eventually, I began to calm down and the tears soon stopped flowing. I raised my head to rest on their shoulder.
   
“Claire? Are you ready to go now?”

    I stared down at the ground, thinking about whether or not I was ready. It was only until I fixated myself on a part of them that was left untouched by the warped space around them that I felt confident in my answer.
   
    “...yes.”

    The hug tightened a bit as they moved their mouth near my ear to whisper to me.

    “I am so, so very proud of you.”

    The last image in my mind before I departed, was two pairs of sunshine yellow shoes standing next to each other.

Faith Rodriguez: "The Darkness That Surrounds"

I could feel him above me, watching and waiting, ready to unleash his acid rain the second I made a mistake. It was in that moment that I noticed the darkness surrounding, heavy black smoke swirling in tendrils. It invaded my vision, my lungs, my soul... It was toxic. Yet, I continued trying to please the cloud even though I knew my only chance at sunlight was the release of the precipitation. The rain would fall in tiny drops, letting out small streams of sunlight, and for a moment I could almost see my dad. But then a new darkness would fill the holes and he'd be gone again. I just wanted the cloud to disperse and let me have the person I so desperately longed for.

The first drop touched my shoulder and seared my skin. I winced, dropping the power drill that I had previously clutched tightly in my hand. I was soaked before the tool even hit the ground. The water burned and I desperately clawed at my skin, attempting to diminish the pain. A little precipitation of my own dripped down my cheeks and mixed with the toxic substance, staining my face in the ugliest way.
Dry it up, the cloud bellowed. Pick it up and start over.
The night went on that way. There would be small moments where my dad— the real one— would seep through and tell me it was okay. It was rare and it took the emptying of the precipitation, but he was there and that’s why I continued on.
When I took a shower that night, acid burns littered my skin. They were burns that were visible to my eyes only. I knew they weren’t really there and they were merely impressions of his words, but the gentle water of the shower stung nonetheless.
I wore long sleeves and pants to bed that night, avoiding any glimpse of the impressions. Once they were gone, more would take their place.
The painful cycle never ended.
Days bled into years of the torturous cloud as my body became scarred and unrecognizable to myself. My only escape was a mistake. A mistake that had been made by someone else that summer that had inevitably freed me from my own personal hell and sent me into another. I welcomed the new hell, with its walls of fire and heat. At least it wasn’t that damned rain.
I still carry the scars on my skin and reflect on them frequently. The cloud hangs over my head, whispering mistakes I’ve made when I’m alone in bed at night. But the cloud isn’t my father anymore.
It is an attachment I can’t rid myself of and I don’t dare let it rain down on anyone else. How could I subject them to something so awful? It is a cloud of things I hate about myself and it touches every part of me. It curls around my legs and tangles itself in my hair. It leaves scorch marks across my stomach and invades my lungs, filling them to the brim with its poison.
The moment I was touched by the acid rain, I consumed the darkness. The cloud follows me wherever I go and reminds me of things I cannot change. It leaves chaos and destruction in its wake as it takes over who I am.
The cloud has become something far worse than my father.
It’s me.

Abby Rosignol: "Just Breathe"

My cheek stung. My nervous habit getting the best of me as I gnawed away at the soft tissue of my lip as I got closer to the next step of my life. Did I look ok? Did I forget my money? Lord I hope I remembered deodorant! I climbed those concrete steps praying that I didn't trip. As I reluctantly inched my way to the school building thoughts were whirling around my brain. Keep your head up, you need to look confident. Should I smile? No, of course not that’s weird. I wrap my hand around the cool metal handle of the door and pull. Just breathe.

…

Sweat beads along my hairline as I stare into the blinding light. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. My feet feel heavy on the wooden stage, like I could fall through at any moment. Honestly, I would prefer that. I look into the darkness in front of me trying to focus on something, anything to make me look a little less like a deer in headlights. Her words pound into me. A stone hammer coated with barbs ripping into the deepest inches of my being. You’re fine, just breathe. In and out. Her frustration is undeniable, as it rolls uncontrollably across her lips. I’m sorry. I’m trying! I don’t know how to fix it. It’s just me alone in front of a one person firing squad. If you thought I couldn't do it, why am I here?  I want to shrink inside myself, to fade away like a shadow in the sunlight, but I can't. I have to stand there and brace it. Do better. Show her that you are better. You are better. Just breathe. Chin up.

…

“P for potential” was branded across my chest. Enslaved to my own mind, I work tirelessly for others.  My mouth waters for the taste of approval. Every move, every breath was screaming for recognition. It’s not working. I’m not loud enough. Why can’t I get this? I need to show them. They need to see. Finally, a compliment. Pride rushes through me, but leaves as swiftly as it enters. I need more. Chains were wrapped around my heart and my head, that only one key could unlock. It never occurred to me that it was in my back pocket all along. I just needed to find it. I needed their acceptance, so I could... just breathe.

…

I slide my palms down the side of my leggings attempting to dry them, but the sweat returns seconds later. My foot taps vigorously on the floor , while my teeth chew away at my inner cheek. I can do this. You know what you are doing. I force my hand to shut my binder, to shield my eyes from the endless notes; they can’t help me now. I close my eyes and let my mind fall willingly under my thought’s curses. Why do you do this to yourself? What joy is there? You just seem miserable.As I turn their words over in my head, they soon start to become mine. Why do I do this? I know the answer, but why is it so hard to believe? It makes me happy. Except, it doesn't. Why? A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. I reach to my back pocket and run my fingers along the rough edges of the long desired key. The doors open and it’s time. I walk into the room I’d been dreading for weeks, but I felt nothing by utter content. I look up at the table, suddenly very aware of the multiple pairs of eyes, glowing with intending judgement. Do this for you. Just breathe. Chin up. Smile.

 

Alexis Snow: "Silver and Gold"

The first time I ever saw my father cry was when I was seven years old. He was on a large screen, suspended from a series of metal poles. Me and thousands of other people formed a sea of blue, grey, and silver encasing a field of green. A roaring ocean of clapping hands and ringing cowbells. I was standing on my seat, peering up at the screen, my heart beating loud with pride. I had clapped until my little hands bore red. It was a dream. My daddy was my hero. I could see his face in perfect focus; the shadow of the hair on his face, his verdant eyes, his crooked-lip smile. The hard, bright white lights caught the top of his bald head as he bowed to receive his medal. As his face appeared again, I could tell by the swelling around his eyes that he had been crying and was about to yet.

That sight, the beholdment of that moment, watching my father accomplish something that was a lifelong goal, pushed my heart into my throat. That was my father. My father. He had spent the last 7 years of his life coaching and leading, leading and coaching to that very moment. Doing something he truly loved, and doing it until it led him to one of the things in his life he would forever be proud of. I knew it was something he loved, too. I could see it in his smile every day when he would come home. I could sense it in his arms as I’d jump into them under the stadium lights after another win.

The lights caught his wedding ring as he pushed his glasses up. That wedding ring had always seemed to demand attention. I used to always tell him, “Daddy, I like silver better. Why did mommy want gold?”

He would always reply, “Loo, I picked gold. I like it.” There was something about the way he said that. Reassuring, but tired. He always did do his best to make my mother out to be stable and healthy. But it was making him tired.
    

The second time I saw my father cry was two months after my mother got arrested. It was the first time he entered the house I had lived in for a year alone with her. It was his house, the house he had bought with his own money. He had put so much work, so much love into that house.

When we bought it, the house had bright, white siding. It gleamed and glowed from the street corner. It had lush, plump bushes by the side, and vibrant tulips growing along the house’s foundation. The interior of the house was old, but beautiful. Antique. Cream-colored wallpaper with flecks of gold in it. Varnished oak wood pillars.

When he returned to the house for the first time since he’d left, he was so taken aback he had to take breaks in between rooms. The siding had turned grey, and the bushes began to take over the side of the house as if they were going to eat it whole. The wallpaper had been stained with fluids, and the varnished wood had been chipped and peeled. The carpets were destroyed and items were overflowing from closets and hallways.

As I followed him through the house, he kept muttering, “Oh, my god.”  I felt ashamed. I also felt frightened of him. My mother had told me horrible, terrible things about him and I knew no better than to believe her. He stopped at one of the wooden columns and put his hand on it as if he was trying to steady himself. His wedding ring clunked against the wood and it made me wonder for the first time why he was still wearing it. Why did he still remain loyal after everything?

He did not do anything rash like I was afraid of. Instead, he turned to me and my heart crumbled when I saw the tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth slowly.  “I’m so sorry, Lex. God, why did I leave you here? Why did we leave her here?” He turned and looked at my brother who was and had been silent the whole time.
I let out a strangled sob and ran up to hug him and just kept saying, “It’s okay dad.” Over and over it felt like. Following that day, I never wanted to see my father cry again.
  

The last time I saw my father cry was at his wedding. I say this is the last time because I haven’t seen him cry since. I was standing as a maid of honor in a lovely nest of trees and sunshine. My father was looking down the concrete path, littered with streaks of glittering sunlight. He was waiting for his bride for the second time around. And, there she was, walking in slow strides in a long, almost blinding white gown. As soon as my father’s eyes reached her, his eyes filled with tears. He smiled that crooked smile and let go. That was the most I had ever seen him cry. And I liked it that way. She reached the altar and they exchanged their vows, shedding yet another tear between each word. After the wedding, I held my father’s hand as we walked back down the aisle. As I looked at our intertwined fingers, I swallowed a lump in my throat and smiled warmly as I saw a beautiful wedding band of brushed silver.