THE

CHOMP

March 2016

THE

CHOMP

Table of Contents
1 ......Introduction and Acknowledgements
2.......Artwork
3....
Snowflakes,
Andrea Sanderson
4........
Invading Space
, Sapna Atwal
5... .
Positive-Negative Space
, Julia Etheridge
6......
Hippocampus
, Robin Laurinec
7..
Untitled
, Ginny Roberts
8..
Abandoned
, Rickey Portis
9....
Rise of the Machine
, Kornelius Patterson
10....Poetry
11.......Love in Nature, Joseph McCarthy
12.The Return, Anonymous
13.........Fame, Raven Tipton
14....Tu Eres, Jayson Wright
15.Short Stories
16..Untitled, Aasiyah Yaqub
18.A Gathering of Kings, Tamia Morton
23....In the Dark, Naeem Gavins
25....Cars Pass But None Stop, Vivian Chiao

Introduction and Acknowledgements

This magazine was not born of a single mind, and never was. From the beginning Ive had
friends, family, and teachers contributing, offering assistance, advice, and their own skillsets
to the development of this project, and to them I am eternally grateful. Foremost among
these individuals is Mr. Pankiewicz of our own Arbor Prep, who has been a great help
throughout this process, offering advice through interviews and in compliance with my
constant badgering. To him, and to everyone else involved, I extend my utmost gratitude.
This project would never have been completed without their help.
This magazine was also not a short-term project. After a rough start in my junior year, I
discovered exactly how hesitant teenagers are to share their personal creative voice with the
world. They are very hesitant. As a result of this, I was able to find greater value in every
document and every image that was released to me. There was a trust there, a mutual
agreement over an often deeply intimate creation that should not be taken for granted. I
hope to showcase each and every one of these pieces in a way that respects that trust.
Finally, Id like to extend my gratitude to my parents, for supporting me in everything I do,
and to my brother, for keeping me humble. No one can have a swollen head when theyre
being referred to as a friggin nerd at least five times a day.
I hope you find as much value in these works as I have, and enjoy them as much as I did.
Editor-in-Chief and Founder
Madeline Doak
P.S. Credit to Mitchell Mayse for the cover design. He asked not to be put in the
acknowledgements, but I dont think this counts.

Artwork
3....
Snowflakes,
Andrea Sanderson
4........
Invading Space
, Sapna Atwal
5... .
Positive-Negative Space
, Julia Etheridge
6......
Hippocampus
, Robin Laurinec
7..
Untitled
, Ginny Roberts
8..
Abandoned
, Rickey Portis
9....
Rise of the Machine
, Kornelius Patterson

Snowflakes
, Andrea Sanderson

Invading Space
, Sapna Atwal

Positive-Negative Space
, Julia Etheridge

Hippocampus
, Robin Laurinec

Untitled
, Ginny Roberts

This image is a illustration for the artists untitled book and senior project. More information
can be found at
http://ginnyroberts.weebly.com/
.

Abandoned
, Rickey Portis

Rise of the Machine

, Kornelius Patterson

Poetry
11.......Love in Nature, Joseph McCarthy
12.The Return, Anonymous
13.........Fame, Raven Tipton
14....Tu Eres, Jayson Wright

Love in Nature
Joseph McCarthy
I write and kiss you, for I love you
Storms crash and lightning screams your name
The sky and the clouds never whisper of this world,
they whisper of you
My tell-tale heart plays a melody, for you are my song
The trees sway in the wind because the wind is running,
through them are telling of all the works you have done
As nature performs as one of the world, I will always love you
Sounds that are in nature are like the little words and kisses,
I mean to give to you all day long
Now when nature is calm, so am I because I am with you
I write and kiss you, for I love you

The Return
Anonymous
It's quiet, and yet the trouble not ended,
When it began and end was not known,
Through it all defeat was never befriended.
Now at the place my thoughts never lended,
The end of my time of being alone,
It's quiet and yet the trouble not ended.
At first going back was always intended,
But I have changed with what I was shown,
Through it all defeat was never befriended.
The scars I now have will never be mended,
How can I ever come home?
It's quiet and yet the trouble not ended.
My meaningless life, for a time had ended,
Where I'm from seems like a great unknown,
Through it all defeat was never befriended?
Happiness at going back can be pretended,
Back to the place I once called home:
It's quiet and yet the trouble not ended.
Through it all defeat was never befriended...

Fame
Raven Tipton
In todays world fame is a must.
But is this idea something that we trust?
We follow to the bump and grind,
then we and post it on Vine.
Oh! Oh! Look at them!! Then the whole world reacts,
They say that this generation has many cracks. Rip! There goes another one.
In response we shoot back with attacks.
Creating a more subtle line between us and them.
So I ask again. is the fame really a must?

Tu Eres
Jayson Wright
You're nostalgic.
Not in the sense of a state of being or a name;
But rather as an identity.
And with every clumsy step you took,
You would litter memories in the form of your failures and downfalls.
And while you may bitterly think back on it
I have to bite back tears
Because whether or not you want to admit it my love
Those galactic provoking conversations we had when we felt like death,
Muddy uphill battles we fought side-by-side,
And late nights where we sipped on cups rimmed with our weaknesses and tainted in
our sorrows,
Were the greatest and most beautiful moments of my life.
Because there was a beauty to the struggle and you mastered the art like a monk
You made me swear an oath of faith, and taught me that the sin of greed was the most
human-like of all.
You always greedily wanted the best for us both
You embodied what it meant to be human, and were the physical representation of all
the universe's timeless mysteries.
Your eyes were the color of the earth that brought life
And you always smelled like the flowers that grew from it.
You felt soft like the soil and spoke like it was warm summer evening.
You were amazing in the sense of an ordinary wish coming true.
Because you were that quarter tossed down a well turning into a miracle
And I was just a nickel struggling for use in a coin jar.
Because even when you felt the very fabric of space slowing down
And had you're realization that the amount of stars in the sky would never amount to
the scars you wore on your heart.
You never withered in demise or bowed to adversary.
At your tomb is painted a mural of your love,
and in it you can find the universe in a palm, shaped like a rose.
Reminiscing that toss down that well that you remember as being such a bitter
memory,
but what I'm nostalgic about.
Because you were always at your best, when everything else was wrong.

Short Stories
16..Untitled, Aasiyah Yaqub
18.A Gathering of Kings, Tamia Morton
23....In the Dark, Naeem Gavins
25....Cars Pass But None Stop, Vivian Chiao

Untitled
Aasiyah Yaqub
She listened to the mid-autumn trees rustled in the wind, the soft sound filling the
earth. An ominous feeling hushed over her as she walked along the pavement. She had
sensed the continuous presence that had been lurking behind her, but she continued
walking, feigning ignorance.
As she nervously fumbled with her car keys, she thought This is it...these are my last
moments of freedom. Dropping her keys, she broke the ice.
I know youre there, youve been following me for a while.
She decide to turn around and face the towering man dressed in muted greys.
A small grimace formed on his face, breaking his former enigmatic persona. Its my
job. But Im glad you finally decided to acknowledge me.
I dont have much of a choice.
But you love to pretend like you do
Reaching into the pocket of his well tailored suit, he grabbed an envelope, but before
he could hand it to her, she desperately called out, No, I thought I had more time, she took
a step back, her back hitting her car door.
Im not ready yet.
The extension you requested was granted 3 months ago. The man said,
matter-of-factly.
I know, but 3 months isn't enough, isnt there anything you can do?
Her eyes maneuvered around him, looking for an exit, a chance to escape all of this.
His eyes grew cold and he violently thrust the envelope into her hands.
Locking eye contact with her, he said You and I both knew this day would soon
come. Your lack of preparation is no one elses fault but yours.
She was getting desperate, she couldnt deal with this now. It wasnt fair.
As he began stalking off, she grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop, as she
attempted one more time to straighten things out.
Please, you have to understand, you were in my exact shoes once.
She looked at him with pleading eyes.
Yes. once. And now its your turn to fill mine.
With that, he tugged his hand away from hers and walked off, leaving her in a
confused daze. The air seemed chillier now, as she stood in the middle of the pavement,
switching her eye between the envelope and the diminishing figure in the distance.
After a brief pause, she lifted the envelope with both hands and tore open the seal.
Reading the contents or the letter, she let out a shrill cry, earning the attention of some
onlookers. She must have looked crazy to them. But she was too consumed in her situation
to care.
In a fit of rage and frustration, she ripped up the paper and tossed it on the ground.
No she thought. I wont let a piece of paper, or anyone, tell me what to do with my
life. And that was something her future self was going to have to deal with.

Retrieving her keys, she got in her car, the sound of the ignition bringing a feeling of
courage into her mind. I can do this. She thought. Just like I can steer my own car, I can
drive my own life.
Turning on the radio to her favorite station, she started smiling to herself, an act that
soon turned into hysterical laughter. But she didnt stop it this time, instead, she let it
happen.

A Gathering of Kings
Tamia Morton
The night murmured a cold, cruel breath of wintry air, sending brittle wisps of cutting
wind around the blackened bark of barren trees. Their branches clattered and rattled in the
disturbance, echoing eerily to haunt the wood. Stars twinkled an icy white sparkle in the
distant sky, stark against the bruised blue canvas above. The harsh gray glow of the full
moon held sway over the night, however, shining bold and bright in its place of lonely
solace.
Below the solemn blaze of the cosmos creaked the Forest of Winter, the trunks of
various dormant trees moaning and groaning in the northerly gusts of wind. Beyond that,
there was only a deathly silence within the woodland. A stiff coating of the untouched,
shimmering snow covered the Forest of Winter, lending thick ice to freeze over the rivers
and a breath of frost to blacken the protruding vegetation. Among this bitter winter
wonderland was Ancients Clearing, marked by four massive pine trees surrounding a
circular area of polished ebony stone.
The origin of the rocks were unbeknownst to the inhabitants of the Forest of Winter,
but tales of magic and mystery surrounded the ancient ground until thousands upon
thousands of legends had surfaced. Many creatures of the Wood were in awe of Ancients
Clearing, but the majority held a fearful respect and preferred to steer clear of the sacred
place.
The stones were smooth and glazed with ice, yet remained mostly untouched by
snowfall due to the solemn protection of the four pines looming above them. The rocks were
arranged in a sophisticated, spiral-like pattern, going round and round in a neat, circular
fashion until falling to a stop at a single shard of sparkling gray flint, the designated sentry
of its core. A small heap of snow lay in its place now after the recent storms, the lunar
luminescence setting the mound of white ablaze with silvery paleness. The moon glowed
dimly nonetheless, its broad rays reduced to small splices of gloomy gray light; the dark,
bristling umbrellas of pine needles overshadowed most of Ancients Clearing, after all.
The moons ghastly white face had reached its zenith in the sky when movement
stirred at the far edge of Ancients Clearing. A lithe, hulking shadow left the blackness of the
pine trees and sauntered toward the center of the gleaming circle of smooth stone. A wolf
had stepped paw into Ancients Clearing, one as black as the bowels of the deepest cave and
as mysterious as the cold, lonely floor of a shadowy ravine. His paw steps were swift and
silent, and the muscles rippling beneath his rugged fur rolled smoothly in unison to carry out
such practiced movements.
His eyes brimmed a fiery orange glow, as burning and intense as the angry red
radiance of a dying sun. Scars, pale and harsh, crisscrossed the wolfs broad muzzle and
face, as he was an old veteran to the ways of war. He drew to a halt before the silvery snow
at the Clearings center and reclined to his hindquarters, his massive head raised to survey
the shadowed terrain that lay before him. His breath steamed from his nose in huge clouds
of white mist, wreathing his maw in its ghostly presence until the thin fur there glittered with
frost. The wind bothered him none, but impatience inflamed his soul as his strange, burning
eyes glowered into the pressing darkness of the surrounding woodland.
He was not one to wait, and did not plan to do so for very long, him being one of
action. The predator must be patient with his prey. A deep, rumbling growl rolled in his

throat at the thought, but he did not move a muscle. This whole thing is folly. A distant snap
echoed some way from the forest surrounding Ancients Clearing, catching the black wolfs
attention immediately. His ears trained forward, open for more sounds that would indicate
the location of the culprit. Growing wary once the brooding silence fell over the woodland
again, the male took in a great whiff of air, letting the icy flow of wind burn his nostrils and
sear his chest. He could detect no scents beyond his own familiar musk and the brisk
emptiness of night, but his eyes and ears had given enough warning that something was
near.
Alpha Reaver, youre early! a light, amiable voice called through the gloom. Alpha
Xhero Reaver let loose a sharp snarl of annoyance as he found he recognized the carefree
bark. Alpha Darium Foxhian of the Ruffian Pack was loping into Ancients Clearing, his fluffy
coat a deep, humble shade of ginger. White fur played faintly around his narrow muzzle and
splashed down his ruffled chest, but the pale coloration proved a poor reflection of his age.
The russet wolfs long, lean body was powerful and gangly with adolescence, his bones
strong but still working to fill in the loose confines of his pelt. His amber eyes twinkled with
the ignorance of youth, gleaming with undeterred ease and foolishness. Despite his
inexperience in leadership, the russet male was quite cunning, wise in the field of battle and
smooth in the art of speech. He may not be dangerous in size or strength, but his slyness and
trickery could be any wolfs undoing should he fall into the youngsters trap of conniving
wickedness. The young wolf often demonstrated characteristics of the fox of his namesake,
given a moments consideration.
I suppose Id rather be late, with all the ruckus you were making out there. Anything
might want to stroll in here now knowing there is the fresh meat of the Pup King awaiting it,
Reaver sneered, folding his lips back to reveal huge, gleaming fangs. His patience had run
too thin, and he knew he would find no sort of comfort in becoming a pawn of the Alpha
Pups games.
The russet wolf laughed rather merrily at the contemptuous reply, his golden eyes
glittering with amusement. His bushy tail swished against his hind legs and proceeded to
sweep the frost sparkling on the slick surface of the black rocks. Quite the jokester, arent
you, Alpha Xhero? he chuckled, flashing a cool grin toward the other male. I may be young,
but I am an Alpha, and Alpha Foxhian is my rightful name, as you very well know. His
amusement faded some as he forced a steady gaze between him and the solemn black wolf,
but the glimmering liveliness in his eyes never dimmed.
Alpha Reaver snarled again, his face contorting into an ugly mask of scorn and anger.
You will always be a little puppy to me, he retorted with a flick of his furry ears. Foxhian
held a strange look with Reaver, but the moment was brief. The russet wolf settled himself
down in front of the snow pile opposite the Clearing of Alpha Xhero.
We will discover who the pup truly is when this Spirit-forsaken meeting is
commenced, Alpha Foxhian murmured levelly. Reaver knew the Pup King despised being
thought of as the weakest and smallest of the group because of his youthful reign. He fought
hardest to prove he was just as strong and courageous as the other Alphas, but many still
upheld the Little Alpha with much impatience and a scant bit of respect.
At Alpha Foxhians peculiar threat, Reaver moved to stand, his muscles preparing for
a well-calculated lunge that would send him slamming into the Pup Kings furry white chest,
but,

before he could even utter a growl, another wolf strode briskly into Ancients
Clearing. Alpha Reaver froze in his steps, his orange eyes zeroing in on the newcomer.
He was much larger than Foxhian, but his long legs and skinny frame proved no
match for Xheros muscular physique. His fur took on various tones of silver and gray, and his
eyes moved to match with an icy blue that complemented the paleness of his pelt. The new
arrival regarded the other wolves warily, his gaze flicking ponderously from side to side, as
though he was trying to comprehend the hostility in the air.
Greetings, my fellow Alphas. Foxhian, Reaver, how do you both fare? the gray wolf
questioned in a polite tone, though his eyes betrayed his uneasiness at being there.
Quite well, actually. The Ruffian Pack has found plenty to eat despite the cold, and
our borders are safe, Alpha Foxhian replied courteously, the friendliness having returned to
his voice. And how is your Wylde Pack, Alpha Reyk?
Enough of this! snapped Alpha Reaver, stamping his paw on the cold stone beneath
him. Where is Alpha Joten and his newfound friend? The black wolf huffed in frustration,
white plumes of breath billowing around his shadowy face.
Alpha Balum Reyk turned pale blue eyes on Xhero, his lips twitching. I wouldnt
know. And Im not sure I wish to see this new Alpha; we are all better off as we are, with
four rulers in control of their own lands and nothing in-between. The uncertainty and
wariness returned to Reyks demeanor, and he glanced furtively around the Clearing.
Better we face this so-called Alpha now. If I see him causing so much as an inkling
of trouble, I am going to rip his throat out here and now, Alpha Reaver growled bluntly,
scraping his dull claws against the rocks. Though Reaver was hotheaded and savage, every
wolf knew hed do anything to protect his family and territory.
Why should we be so worried over this new Alpha? It is merely one wolf, and we are
four, including Alpha Joten. What harm could any wolf do to our kingdoms? Foxhian chimed
in, his soft, furry face beaming with confidence. Alpha Reaver swung his head round to turn a
furious glare on the Pup King.
It takes a Pack to make an Alpha, you fool! And if this Alpha wishes for nothing but
blood and war, then that is all his Packmates will want, and all we will get is war after war
after war! Xhero snarled, baring his teeth again toward the youngster.
What a welcoming little party we have here, growled a deep voice. Reaver lifted his
gaze to see a magnificent white beast of a wolf strolling forward with a leisurely gait. Gray
moonlight winked in the deep amber depths of its eyes, the rays catching a malicious gleam.
Xheros hackles rose and a snarl crept up his throat.
It took you long enough, Joten, the black wolf snapped, glaring at the white male.
The pale-furred Taluk Joten was massive and muscular, his fur a pristine alabaster and
as thick as a bears winter pelt. His face was broad and his muzzle was wide, but his most
defining aspect was the thick gray scar that crossed over the bridge of his nose and curled
down toward his throat. The male was older than the Alphas Foxhian and Reyk, but was of
equal age with Reaver. The two were the fiercest rivals of the four Alphas, often clashing
violently over their claim of territory. Both were quick to anger, but the white wolf was better
at funneling his rage toward the right time and place. He was a deadly opponent in combat,
and usually steered his Pack to victory due to his brilliant use of strategy.
Today, however, it was clear that the white wolf had not come to fight over silly
matters with Reaver. His face was devoid of emotion and his amber gaze was overshadowed

with an unsettling coolness. He promptly ignored Xheros comment and merely continued
his slow jaunt without a word. He paused once he reached Foxhians side and surveyed the
Clearing for a brief moment, taking the situation in with a practiced eye.
You have all come here today to meet the Valleys newest Alpha. This wolf has come
from faraway lands, places where blue-green water stretches all the way to the horizon and
where mountain peaks seem to never end. I believe we should meet this leader and see what
we can learn, the white wolf began solemnly, though his voice held an overlying echo of
suppressed excitement. Reaver bristled slightly at the tension rising steadily in the air.
Something was wrong.
Are you mad, Alpha Joten? This wolf will be nothing but trouble for us all! Balum
Reyk spoke up, his tail whistling through the air as he lashed it to and fro. The four of us
guide the Valley just fine. We do not need a fifth Alpha to come parading into our lands and
changing the way we have lived for centuries, the gray-furred male insisted with a decisive
huff.
Joten swung his gaze round to the silver wolf, his lips twisting into a sneer. Are you
afraid of this new Alpha, Reyk? Are you so very frightened by the prospect of change? he
questioned innocently, though his tone rang with contempt.
Alpha Reyk growled low in his chest, his eyes glittering with anger. You know that is
not true!
Quit toying with us, Joten! Who is this wolf and when will he arrive? We all have
families to tend to in this harsh winter, Darium broke in impatiently with bared fangs, his
nostrils flaring as anger, too, began trickling into his young body.
Reaver remained silent, upholding the white wolf through careful eyes. His powerful
muscles were stiff with tension, and all his senses strained to listen to the surrounding
woodland. There was a secret in the air, one borne of arrogance, deceit, and evil. There is
danger here, but I am not certain as to where it may come from, or what shape it may take.
Alpha Xhero released another huge cloud of white from his nose as he waited, swallowing
down his impatience for once to allow more thought to the problem at hand.
Alpha Taluk turned an unfriendly eye upon the Pup King, his lips twitching upward
slightly. As if the Ruffians actually deserve the land they possess! Yourfamily, Little Alpha,
will never survive the winter. After all, they have pledged their service and loyalty to a
weakling pup such as yourself, the white wolf jeered, a menacing grin sliding upon his maw.
Foxhians ears swung back against his head at Alpha Jotens cruel jests. His golden
eyes shone with fury, and his body quivered with undisguised rage. The Ruffians are as
twice as noble as your Thorne Pack would ever be! he flashed back. The age of an Alpha
will never change the Ruffian sense of honor and dignity, and we are no strangers to the
battlefield. If you need the feel of my teeth to understand that, I will happily oblige. Alpha
Foxhian growled his threat with deadly calm, his reddish fur sinking slowly back against his
steady frame as he began to fasten a rein to his anger.
The gray-furred Alpha Reyk turned a low growl on Joten, the thick black fur of his
nape rising while Foxhians fluffy red withers fell. There is no reason to mock the honor of
the Ruffians. Each of our Packs have strong and loyal wolves, and we Alphas should be the

example to them all by treating one another as equals, no matter how we appearor
how many moons weve been upon this earth. You mock us all by testing the honor of the
Ruffian Pack, and Ill not tolerate it any further. We must work as one.
Alpha Darium murmured in agreement, his eyes softening as he listened to the sense
of the gray wolfs words. Reaver maintained his moody silence, his ears twitching as he
began to realize he could hear somethingSomeones moving out there, and theyre taking
their time. A low snarl tickled the depths of Xheros throat once more as he was put on edge.
There is something very wrong about this night.
Alpha Joten released a sharp snarl, his lips flying back to reveal his pale pink gums
and his flashing white canines. A deadly gleam had entered his flat amber gaze. That time is
well and done, Balum! It is every wolf for himself out there, and there are many things at
stake just now. The time of the Alphas are done; instead of us acting as one entity, there will
soon only be one entity! The white wolf gave a wicked, evil grin. It has been decided that
this one will not be any of you, Im afraid. So your usefulness has, unfortunately, come to an
end. My Alphas, please welcome NHiri.
As Taluk spoke, a new wolf strode into the open space, petite and graceful, a living
shadow in a shining, flossy black coat. Her eyes blazed a rich jade-green, glowing and alive
with light, alert and sharp with intelligence. A literal she-beast the wolf was, large for a
female and as dangerous as any male. In those eyes lurked a dark promise, an awful and
terrible prophecy unspoken, but still known. The wolf moseyed a little way into Ancients
Clearing, weighing the scene before her. Reaver had only to meet her malignant gaze to
know every single wolf in that clearing was in real peril.
Horror and outrage filled the Ancients Clearing, and Reaver suddenly understood
what was happening to them. Taluk set us up! This was a trap!

In the Dark
Naeem Gavins
You didnt have to do that.
If I didnt then-
Then I would still be okay. she turned her head at him, I would take some time to
myself, breathe, and then let it go. You didnt have to do that.
I didnt like how he was talking to you.
It doesnt matter how he was talking to me! There was an uncomfortable silence
between the two. The wind made the grass and leaves rustle. He removed his arm from over
his eyes to his forehead, and began to look at his friend. She was fragile, but had a strength
to her. She was short. Her hair was the longest thing on her, just falling to the middle of her
back. Her skin was light, but her eyes were dark like coffee. He turned his gaze to the
surroundings. He glanced at the clear open skies.
Nice day all things considered.
His eyes
moved from the sun to the fields where children played their sports. Two of the kids started
to argue and fists were thrown. He watched absent mindedly until Penelope broke the
silence.
You didnt have to threaten him. That just made it worse.
I didnt mean to...its just that my...my...mouth just moved on its own.
Just dont go to it then. Hed understand, wouldnt he?
He sat up, and rested his weight on his arms. I never thought about it. Care to tell me
more about your great plan, Nel?
You know what I meant. She nudged his shoulder playfully, I just dont want you to
get hurt Jos. Nel scooted closer to him, and rested her head on the shoulder she pushed.
Jos was thankful that his skin was dark because if it wasnt, she would have seen him blush.
And that would have given it away. Seconds passed before she broke the silence again.
Eight?
Yeah, its at 8.
Okay, thats enough time.
Enough time for what? Jos raised his eyebrow quizzically.
You cant protect yourself, Nel smiled so Im giving you something that can. Then
without saying another word she got up, and dusted her jeans off. Nel outstretched her arm
to Jos, but he declined it. Being so close made some things happen that he didnt want her
to see.
Ill be awhile, but Ill come over before I come back here
Okay, but its really important that you do come.
I will. He smiled at her, and saw her walk away from the field they were in. His eyes
followed her until he could no longer see her. Jos sighed heavily, and wiped his face. He
scanned everything and everywhere for something he could use for some advantage for his
fight. Jos looked at the gravel field to play baseball, the fields for soccer, the blacktops for
basketball, the abandoned lot with the dirt hill and lastly the hill he was on. He looked for
what felt like hours. Jos planted his face into his hands. Im so screwed.
He scurried across the field to the baseball diamond where the fight would be held.
Jos had decided it was best to come alone. Whatever was going to happen, it was best that

Penelope did not see it. He reached the pitchers plate and waited for Nick.
Maybe he wont
show
. He smiled at that thought. The more time that passed the more nervous he felt. He had
to forcibly stop his legs from shaking three times, readjust his pants five times, and still he
did not show up. The knots in his stomach grew worse with every second that passed. He felt
something slowly creep up the back of his throat. Jos hunched forward to let green fluid
spill from his mouth. He stayed like that for a few moments, spitting every now and again to
get everything out. The gift Penelope gave him dangled loosely between his stomach and
the waist of his pants. Jos attempted to straightened back up again, but was forced down
by a hand. He went face first into the gravel making shallow cuts on his face. He struggled,
kicked, punched, yelped for help, but it didnt matter. No one was there, but him and his
assailants. Hold him down!
He felt something apply pressure on to his lower back. His arms were wrenched out
from his sides and held straight out in front of him. The gift was digging further and further
into his skin. He felt a hard kick on his side that made him stop squirming. Im so happy you
decided to calm down. He yanked Joss head up by his hair, and stared him in his face.
Hey, Nick patted Joss cheek with his other hand, How are you today? He smiled slyly,
while he turned the hand into a fist a struck him a couple times. Jos felt his brain rattling
about in his skull. Without thinking, he spat a big red glob of spit at Nicks face. Nicks smile
dissolved into a frown.
Break his hand, then get him up.
Before Jos could react to what he said, the sound of twigs breaking was heard. The
scream of a wounded animal came from Jos. He didnt have enough time to see how bad it
was; he was on his feet before he could. Tears rolled down his cheeks from the pain.
Whats wrong?, Nick said It cant that much, Mr. Hero. His cackle echoed through
the empty park they were in. Well, its time to end this. He pulled out a switchblade, and
flicked it open. Jos just stared at him while he slowly walked toward him. Saw him for what
he really was. He looked at his wild hair that clung to his face. He looked at Nicks deep red
eyes that resembled a beast. Jos even looked at his posture, which was hunched. This while
thinking of everything that could happen. He pulled out Penelopes gift from his waistband. It
was a chrome gun, and he pointed it at Nick. Jos didnt hear anything that said. Everything
blurred together. He closed his eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

Cars Pass But None Stop

Vivian Chiao
Im driving. The fields stretch out around me, thick green woods beyond them. Overhead, the
sky is a perfect idyllic blue.
-My car breaks down just outside the post office, leaving me stranded in the middle of wheat
fields and leaning houses. It must have broken down; I cant remember it doing that, but
theres no other reason I would be here. I have obligations: people to see, places to be. I look
for my car. Theres nothing outside of the post office but dust and my own footprints.
-There isnt a bus stop on the main road or anywhere that I can see. I check my phone, but
theres no network. The map that I keep tucked into my jacket is gone.
-I try calling my father. The phone rings and rings and rings.
-The town doesnt have a name. The people dont offer theirs, and they dont inquire as to
mine. I ask for a hotel. There isnt one, but there are rooms for rent upstairs from the bar. I
pay in cash. Twenty dollar bills. My wallet is empty of credit cards. I cant find any change in
my pockets.
-At night, the building groans in its foundation, the floor heaving with it, ceiling reaching
down from above, the top of a set of great gnashing teeth. The sheets of the bed are hot on
my skin. I wonder about the rust-red stains in the corner hidden beneath the armchair.
-I venture out to the edge of the cornfields. Theyre a pale, tired gold and a foot taller than
me. They sway in indistinct patches, rhythmic as a heartbeat. I lick the pad of my finger and
hold it up to the sky. Theres no wind. In the shadows, things move just out of sight.
-The bar is open even though the clock on the wall says nine AM. I sit down on one of the
barstools and buy a drink. It comes in a shotglass, thick purple liquid that clogs up in my

throat and makes my eyes water. I order another. The bartender says nothing. His eyelids are
sunken, dark. When he pours, I cant see his hands.
-I try calling my father. It goes straight to voicemail.
-Birds dont fly over town. Sometimes I see them circling over the cornfields and diving for
prey, but they always fall to the ground eventually, wings slack and their beaks open as they
caw. The farmhands like to say that the corn takes them, laugh at it often. All the same, they
never go into the fields without layers and layers of clothing, every bare inch of skin covered.
-The grocer sells cereal and wheat and flour, maple syrup and canned tomato soup. Near the
back wall, the lights flicker. Theres a shelf over there, but Ive never seen whats on it. There
are eyes watching from the cracked plaster walls as I leave the store. They dont blink.
-I try calling my father. Theres a spider underneath my case when I pick it up, but then I blink
and its just a rough, darker spot of wood, like the plastic of the casing was acid and bit right
through its surface. I try to dial his number, and the only message it gives me is
no service
available, no service, no ser-.
-There are woods nearby, only a little ways off the main road, that no one is ever supposed to
wander into. All the same, sometimes I spot marks on the tree trunks, all the bark stripped
away and scores cut deep into the wood. If I looked closer, maybe I would see claw marks.
Maybe I would see writing.
-One of the farmers hires me to drive packages to him and a few other farms from town. The
truck is beat-up and tired, but capable, takes dirt roads and potholes with complaint but no
real trouble. I could leave, if I wanted, if only I knew which road led back to where I came
from.
--

Summers, the fields sway hazily in place, a lion lazily considering its domain. But the snow
comes eventually, and with it the dead husks of corn, the barren land. In winter, all the fogs
gone, all the summer haze, and the ground is bared to the sky, an open wound with blood
vessels on display. In winter, the earth shakes as if in rage.
-Near the edges town, there are narrow alleyways are dark even at midday, dim lights in the
distance fade when I get closer. When the sun sets, I roll up the windows of the truck to shut
out the world, not bothering with padlocks or chains because no one steals in this town.
Thieves have the oddest tendency to disappear on unwalked paths and never be seen again.
-The farmers order fertilizer. The farmers order seed. The farmers order stone that comes with
caution signs and is scalding to the touch. I learn not to breathe too loudly when near.
-The truck is sitting in the parking lot of the grocers, me in its front seat, hands still on the
steering wheel, engine turned off. My boss yells from the door to hurry up and help him with
the latest package. I go. The crate is heavy when I load it into the back. There are no air
holes, but I can hear something inside of it whistling.
-The bartenders dog walks past my door in the mornings. He barks at the birds through the
window and snuffles at the door frame, the bells on his collar jingling as he lopes up the
staircase and down the hall. I pet him when I go downstairs, focus on his ears to avoid
looking directly at his eyes, which are red like the setting sun. He always smells like ash.
-Theres a stranger in town, an unknown among the nameless, anonymous whole that make
up the residents, familiar like the rotting buildings, the deep tears in the fabric of the trucks
seats pressing into my back when I drive. He wears Oxfords and dark slacks, watch at his
wrist silver and gleaming. He looks like the city, so out of place in the middle of cornfields
and a main street thats only five blocks long that its actually ridiculous. I cant remember
the last time I saw anyone look like that.
-Days, he wanders into and out of stores, buying half the stock or just looking through the
merchandise. Nights, he--I dont know where he goes, nights. He comes back in the

mornings, though, with his shoulders tense and his fingertips dusty, stops by the bar for
breakfast. He pays with twenty dollar bills, corners crisp and picture perfect.
-I know people here dont like it when Im curious, but this one just smiles and shrugs when I
ask questions. There are two slits cut into the back of his shirt. His eyes glint red in the
sunlight. I dont ask about those. I try not to look.
-He says his name is Icarus. He asks after my name. I pause, and for a startling, impossible
second my mind is blank, like all the letters have run away from me, left only a slew of
ellipses in their wake.
Ariadne
, I say.
My name is Ariadne.
-He smiles, slow. His teeth are white, are sharply cut as diamonds.
Oh?
he says,
And why are
you here?
-Waking up in this town is always slow, a languorous drift from dreaming to the half-state of
vague sensation before awareness finally settles back in. Waking up now is ice water
running down my neck, all my hair standing on end as my mind throttles towards some
finish line I cant see.
Why are you here?
Icarus asks, like a spell, like things better left
unconsidered, and its as if a mirror is shattering under my hands and revealing a long,
empty hallway beyond.
-Icaruss eyes are a deep dark red, the same shade as the sky gets when the suns down past
the horizon but still fighting for light. I cant look away.
-The stranger leaves the next evening, clearing out the room hes been taking adjacent to
mine and giving me a familiar smile on his way out. He gets into the back of a shiny black car
with his bags. I watch him, think to follow. By the time I make my way downstairs, hes gone.
Above me, the setting sun paints the sky the color of rust. Even though its warm out, I shiver.
--

Winter is harsh, is cold. A blizzard sweeps in just as February starts to warm, buries the
recently-salted streets with another few feet of snow. The truck becomes covered, barely
seen. No one goes outside, but sometimes there are dark figures stalking the streets,
walking on top of the snow and underneath my window. I do my best to ignore them. The
fields remain untouched.
-I take a week off in spring, take the truck and as many cans of gasoline as I can wheedle out
of my boss and head for the state border. There must be one, if I can only drive far enough,
keep from looking back like Orpheus fleeing from the Underworld. There must be.
-Im driving. The fields stretch out around me, thick green woods beyond them. Overhead, the
sky is a perfect idyllic blue.

The Chomp