CHAINS
Shadows
Rosemount High School
2011
3
Editors’ Statement
Chains are our links to the past, holding onto memories slowly fading. We
link school, friends, family, and relationships to a long chain of good and bad
memories. Chains link us as a society. Our acceptance of one another makes
the chain stronger. Chains link everything we want, need, and love.
The same chains that link us can be broken. They can shatter under the
weight of broken promises, sending shrapnel deep into our hearts. It takes
time to mend these broken chains. Time we never seem to have enough of.
Other chains are created for us by others. They are made of judgments and
stereotypes, and we carry these chains with us too. Day by day a new link is
created, weighing us down even more.
We must break free. Free from the chains that once held us down. Free
from judgment. Free to be ourselves.
~Bethany and Emily~
CHAINS
2010-2011
Shadows Volume XXXI
Rosemount High School
3335 142nd Street West
Rosemount, MN 55068
2
Shadows
Table of Contents
CHAINS WE CARRY
Label Maker
Let Go
Extraordinarily Ordinary
Truth
Beauty
*GASP*
There I Am
Snowfall
Gossip
A Puzzling Piece
Fire Flash
Haircut
Covered
Flowers in Solitude
Poetry
Poetry
Prose
Poetry
Poetry
Photograph
Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
Silver Pendant
Photograph
Poetry
Poetry
Ink Drawing
6
6
7
8
8
8
9
10
10
10
11
11
11
12
Prose
Ink Drawing
Prose
Poetry
Prose
Colored Pencil Drawing
Painting
Acrylic Painting
Charcoal Drawing
14
16
18
20
21
21
22
25
26
Morgan Wychor
Kelsey Nocon
Gabrielle Allan
Heather Snay
Gabrielle Allan
Anastasia Smith
Isabel Valdivia
Micheala Andrews
Keaton Goetz
Kevin Hernandez
Amanda Robbins
Colin Busho
Valerie Ancheta
Annamarie Ehlers
BROKEN CHAINS
The Memories
Sunflowers
Change
Untitled
Catching Stability
Still Life
Flowers
Four Dancers
Unlocked
Josh Pratt
André Nelson
Thana Hussein
Krysta Hovendon
Clarie Holtz
Jessica Ewer
Annamarie Ehlers
Anina Munesisoumang
Nicolette Sorensen
2011
3
CHAINS LINKING US TO OUR PAST
Between the Snowflakes
Express
A Spanish Night
Hello. Operator?
Where I’m From
The Weight of All Things
The Game
Sapatos
New Roots
The Dance Class
An Autumn Epiphany
Koi in Peace
As I Am
Van Gogh’s Irises
Jenna Penrod
Kerri Vang
Shelby Cooper
Anastasia Smith
Natalie Sterner
Justin Hummelgard
Emily Anderson
Jettel Thomas
Morgan Wychor
Annamarie Ehlers
Chad Berg
Zachary Tubbs
Neil Schneider
Garret Kornovich
Prose
Photograph
Prose
Photograph
Poetry
Poetry
Prose
Charcoal Drawing
Prose
Magazine Clippings
Prose
Oil Pastel Drawing
Prose
Oil Pastel Drawing
28
29
30
32
32
32
33
34
35
37
39
40
41
44
FREE FROM THE CHAINS
Vase
Our Love
Winter
So Long
Magic
Logan
Amphigory
Chevy
Broken Dawn
Rain
Serenity
Newborn Day
Hornbill Bird Under the Moon
Maura Wesen
Matt Pranke
Rachel Matuseski
Cynthia Zapata
Leah Reber
Luke Grothe
Anastasia Smith
Jackie Slovack
Nick Foss
Maura Wesen
Jordan Randall
Victoria Wotczak
Itzel Velez
Poetry
Poetry
Pencil Drawing
Poetry
Poetry
Poetry
Photograph
Charcoal Drawing
Poetry
Poetry
Photograph
Poetry
Acrylic Painting
53
54
Staff Page
Policy, Colophon, and Awards
4
Shadows
Cover Art: Mental Schema
46
46
46
47
47
48
49
49
50
51
51
51
52
Valerie Ancheta
Ink Drawing
CHAINS
we
CARRY
2011
1
Label Maker
I’d like to know who told you
That you could define me
That you could know all my insides
In a few words like
intelligent
sweet
stupid
inadequate
I’d like to know who told you
You could put a number on my forehead
That I would define the future
I’m good enough to live
Because how do you know me?
Do you know my story?
What makes you the judge?
Who told you that you could call me
foolish
brainless
hopeless
worthless
I want to know who made you the Label Maker
And how you could label me so wrong
-Morgan Wychor
6
Shadows
Let Go
Let go of what you are afraid of,
of what you are too scared to be.
One day you will regret it,
because you could not see.
See what you are,
or what you can be.
Let go of what people do,
what they think and say.
You can’t please everyone,
at least not every day.
Not everything can be fixed,
there’s nothing you can do.
Sometimes people won’t listen,
even if your words are true.
Let go of what’s holding you back,
go for it with what you’ve got.
Don’t let anyone stop you,
you have to take the shot.
Life is not always fair,
it isn’t meant to be.
But it’s what you do with it,
what you make them see.
-Kelsey Nocon
Extraordinarily Ordinary
He was an average man, normal to a fault, though it
was this degree of normalcy that made him an outsider, stuck on the inside.
He woke up each morning at a respectable hour,
making his way through traffic to step into a highly
respectable building, twenty stories high and each
floor filled with workers just like him. He stood in the
elevator, one of many. He worried at his tie that hung
around his neck like a noose, though it was a noose
he adorned each morning with a collared shirt that
decorated it with that feel of makeup on a corpse. As
the day went by, the cheap fabric always felt tightening as if some invisible hand had its grip on his throat.
He had married, though because of the unordinary
ordinariness of this particular man his marriage wasn’t
a happy one. D-I-V-O-R-C-E, a noun, Anglo-French in
origin, leave it to the French to divine an escape to an
insufferable period of time. He had never had children, or the idea of teaching a new life the secrets of
a world he no longer cared to describe as he watched
it drive past him in cars better and more expensive
than his, with wives prettier and younger than his own.
In his pursuit of happiness, he brewed his coffee
with an almost religious dedication so that he could
view his everyday tasks with eyes large as the saucers that the ladies in his office placed under dainty
breakfast treats that wouldn’t increase their perfectly
measured waistlines. With such thoughts so consumed on the shuffling of papers, he had no business
dreaming of his paradise lost. It was the smell of fresh
coffee and the warmth in his belly that brought him joy
in his life.
No, no other religion filled his heart with grace, for
if indeed God was so great and so mighty, what gave
him the right to walk into his house with dirty shoes?
In order to believe in God, he would have to accept
that all of this was preordained, and if that is so, what
a lack of creativity! Had that big man in the sky gotten
too old to think up any good lives anymore? Had he
made the King Arthurs, and the Al Capones, and had
now found his career to have been satisfactory, good
job, where should I retire?
That is what he would ask him when he got there…
that place they all talk about. Would it be there that his
life grew worth? Would he remain uninteresting until
he was no more?
He is standing at the edge, he is Christopher Columbus, about to drop off the end of the flat world,
about to drop into a black pit adjacent to a hell, but
still as terrible. Down there, he sees those cars nicer
than his, driven by girls younger and prettier than his
wife. There is color, and life and emotions… perhaps
he could join them, cover the ground with a splash of
color, his very own. His feet inch towards the space
where the world ends, a children’s tune playing in his
mind: “This little piggy goes to market, this little piggy
stays home…”
He is the face of the man on the news. The picture
of a man at Christmastime, in a red knitted sweater
pulled tight over a belly that had grown to encompass the girth of his holiday spirit, his smile making
him all the more amiable as that pretty news lady
tells you his unfortunate tale. You probably frowned
in respect, didn’t you, you muttered something about
how sad it is, before you changed the channel, or the
news moved on to tell you about the rainy weekend
you should expect. Did he remind you of someone?
Surely he did, for after all, he is just an average man.
Over six billion people in the world, and now the
seven billion five hundred and sixty million and second slot is open for one more child to be an average
being.
-Gabrielle Allan
2011
7
Truth
Stepping outside of my steel door
The wind blows my hair
Walking on the hard cement
A weed grows over there
Climbing into a taxi cab,
A leaf lies on the floor.
Once full of Ambition
Now crumpled on the floor,
It did not choose to fall that low.
It did not know it was fate.
Once high in a sycamore tree,
With all the world to see.
Now surrounded by
Dirt, scum, and bubblegum
No reason,
None at all.
No explanation
None at all.
Arriving at the front door
A tree grows from a crack
People rush by
Never looking back.
Gold, orange, red, brown,
All fall upon our heads.
Once in a tree
How high were they?
Entering my office
A window to my right
Shows more than just a beautiful sight
But when I look out…
All I hear,
is a whisper in my ear.
-Heather Snay
8
Shadows
Beauty
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder who…
Is sold makeup day by day,
Who is told what to wear
Be it August or May,
Who is told about surgeries,
Diets and pills,
About nose jobs,
And boob jobs,
And the girls puking when not ill,
TV commercials,
Magazines and fads,
Making her feel fat and sad.
Stop the madness!
Clear your mind,
Beauty is not hard to find.
-Gabrielle Allan
*GASP*
Anastasia Smith
Photograph
There I Am
There I am. There I sit.
Staring at the wall and letting myself fall.
There I am. There I watch.
Watch me go about my day, with a smile on my face as if everything was okay.
There I am. There I listen.
Listen to your voice go on and on about the past. Drives me crazy how you seem to dislike it, yet you make it last.
There I am. There I run.
Run, run from what you say. Run because I feel it will make everything go away.
There I am. There I stop.
Stop running because it really doesn’t do me any good. I can only run so much. So I stopped and there I just stood.
There I am. There I sleep.
Sleep to get away. Sleep to be okay. Sleep to rest my brain, close my eyes, shut my mouth and not complain.
There I am. There I dream.
Dream of your face. Thinking about your love and care. But once I wake up you’re no longer there.
There I am. There I cry.
With puffy eyes, slow, warm and wet tears running down my face. But once I hear those footsteps, I wipe my face clean,
leaving no trace.
There I am. There I fight.
Fight for you to see that I’m no longer a child. Your dishonesty is something I no longer believe.
There I am. There I knew.
Knew that she’d always be there to hold me through whatever. To let me know how much she loves me now and forever.
There I am. There I care.
Care because that’s what friends are for, to catch you when you fall, listen to you and more.
There I am. There I blush.
Blush at the sight of you and your smile. Waiting to be yours but that’s long ahead of us, more than a mile.
There I am. There I have your back.
I have your back for when you need me to. FYI, courage is something I no longer lack.
There I am. There I play.
Play because it fills my heart. But hearing your laugh is by far the best part.
Here I am. Here I engrave.
Engrave onto paper what I can with this ink. Getting all my feelings out along with everything I think.
Here I am. Here I learn.
Learn from my past, and things that have gone wrong. Letting it sink in slowly, allowing it to make me strong.
Here I am. Here I breathe.
Breathe in the freshest air. Feeling nothing but free and no care.
Here I am. Here I see.
I see what has become of me.
Sometimes when you look at me, you may not see the true me.
Sometimes when you hear about me, you may not believe.
But just take the time to breathe in my presence.
And see how much you really know.
And see how much I just don’t show.
There I am.
Here I am.
This is me.
-Isabel Valdivia 2011 9
Snowfall
Gossip
Tiny white crystals
Falling
Dancing on the wind
Beautiful
Sparkling gifts of the sky
Some fragile gems settle
Softly
Upon windswept Earth, others
Gently
Land upon my hand
For a moment, then they
Melt
The liquid seemingly becoming
Absorbed
Into the flesh of my palm
Is this not what memories are like?
Cold
Lifeless, until that moment when they
Become
One with who we are.
Walking down the halls
hearing all of the useless
gossip and chatter,
makes me wonder
is the point? So much talk
can hurt each other,
break each other
until nothing
left of us. The
rumors spread
around the school,
everyone knows
story, how that
one person hurt their friend.
Some people spread
the gossip like
it’s their job.
Is this their
in life?
-Keaton Goetz
10
Shadows
-Michaela Andrews
what
is
the
purpose
A Puzzling Piece
Kevin Hernandez
Silver Pendant
Haircut
A look
A stare
A glare at me
My reflection rebounds across
Am I happy?
A reconsideration
A declaration
To change and accept
New beauty
Am I happy?
Layers cut
Identity lost
Forced as a butterfly
Transformed anew
Am I happy?
Only until the next time
Rolls around
-Colin Busho
Fire Flash
Amanda Robbins
Photograph
Covered
As I stare into the rectangle, I feel it stares back
It shows me all my flaws, the beauty that I lack
But it tells me how to live life, it makes everything clearer
Wait, is this my reflection? Or is it me that is the mirror?
It presents to me such perfection, I cannot resist
My appearance is so grotesque so of course I insist
I buy the products this mirror offers and once they’ve been applied
I embrace physical qualities and reject what I’ve become
My true face is what I can only show to some
The mirror said I was ugly but now I know it fed me lies
My mask eventually broke and shed into my eyes
Pop culture is like a writer in the process of revision
The youth is the essay and the corrections are made through television.
-Valerie Ancheta
2011 11
Flowers in Solitude
Annamarie Ehlers
Ink Drawing
12
Shadows
Broken
CHAINS
2011
1
The Memories
Looking over his shoulder, James thought he
was going crazy. He could have sworn he heard
someone calling his name. But, as he glanced down
the empty street, he knew he was alone. His parties
with his friends were fun, visiting with his family was
enjoyable, and he had girlfriends to comfort him. But
nothing filled this hole in his soul. He kept trudging
through the cold, Seattle rain, not knowing where
he was traveling to next. The thought hadn’t left his
mind since it happened. That moment would stay in
James’s memory for the rest of his life. It happened
almost one year ago...
“I love you baby, with all of my heart,” the words
James wished he could say, but knew she wouldn’t
believe him. ”You don’t understand how much you
mean to me.” James was holding her tight against
his chest, watching some lame romantic comedy
she loved. They were alone. The rest of her house
was quiet, except for the low hum of the furnace. As
she watched intently, snuggled up close to his warm
body, James couldn’t help but admire how beautiful
she was. He loved everything about her, from her
light brown almost red hair, to her wonderful smile
that would light up the world, even how she wasn’t
particularly tall,
five foot three to
“But nothing filled
be exact. But what
this hole in his soul.” truly captured
James were her
eyes. Her eyes were the most amazing things he
had ever seen. They were an intense green, one that
could not be described. He still dreams about them,
how incredible they were. James would always get
lost in them when she would look at him. As he was
looking upon her perfect face, she turned to look at
him with that spectacular smile.
14
Shadows
“What is it babe?” she laughed, that cute laugh.
“What are you staring at?”
“Beauty,” James said without a second thought.
He knew she was the definition of beauty. She quickly
turned and blushed. James grinned the way she
loved.
As she turned back to face him, the presence in
the room shifted.
When he looked
“He knew she was the
back into her
definition of beauty.”
eyes, he noticed
something
different. He saw something in them that wasn’t there
before. James knew exactly what it was. It was the
same feeling he had inside of him. Before he could
say anything, she closed her beautiful green eyes and
leaned in closer. James followed. Their lips met and
everything else melted away. They were alone. Time
was gone. There was no sound. All the feelings they
had for each other could finally be expressed. That
simple, innocent kiss turned into an embrace filled
with passion. They were in love. They both knew it,
but neither said a word.
James thought of this moment even as the rain
was getting harder. The wind was getting stronger.
That was the greatest moment of his life. He wished
with every ounce of his being that he could relive that
moment. But he knew how cruel reality truly is. That
moment was lost to time, but he would never forget
how it felt. There was one other memory that he
would never forget either. One far more painful...
It was April 28th, 7:42 p.m. James was sitting in
his dorm room, working on some assignment given
by his psychology professor. His cell started vibrating
furiously on his desk. He reached over to see who
was calling him. He recognized the name.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. How are you?” he answered
casually. He had many conversations with her before. couldn’t be. She was gone. And he was going to find
She had to interrogate him before she allowed him to
her again.
date her daughter.
“Do not do it.” There was the voice again, but this
“I’m so sorry, James. It’s about...” She couldn’t
time it was stronger.
finish the sentence. He could hear
“It’s not her.
her sobbing hysterically.
She’s gone,”
“James was in a state of awe. He was not James said
“What happened? Is everything
able to talk, move, or even breathe.”
alright?” James began to question,
aloud, trying
not knowing what was going on.
to reassure
“She was out driving with friends in the rainstorm.
himself. As he said this, James felt a hand upon his
A semi lost control. They got hit.” She started crying
shoulder. That familiar touch sent shocks through his
again.
body. It couldn’t be. But he had to know.
The phone hit the floor. His heart stopped. He did
James opened his eyes and turned around to see
not breathe. The world as he knew it had vanished.
if it really was her touching him again. He knew it
His best friend, his girlfriend, his entire everything had wasn’t her. There was no way she had returned into
been taken away from him. He didn’t know what to
this life. She was gone. He knew he was alone. But
say. He was alone.
he wasn’t.
That phone call would haunt him for the rest of his
The streetlight on the bridge was much brighter
life. James lost everything that day. He lost his desire
than it was before. Standing beneath the glow was
to be happy. He forgot what music sounded like. He
a body James couldn’t quite make out. She slowly
had to fake the smiles to make everyone believe he
stepped out of the light. She seemed to glow just
was OK. But he was far from OK. James loved her,
as much as the light did. She was pale, but not too
more than life itself. But her never told her. He was
white, and had long, flowing blonde hair. She wasn’t
alone, and he couldn’t handle being alone anymore.
short, but definitely not tall. Wearing a beautiful white
He finally stopped. The rain was pouring down
dress, she walked with such grace towards James he
harder than ever. He examined where his feet had
thought she was dancing.
taken him. He was on a dark bridge with only one
After what seemed like an eternity to him, she
streetlight, overlooking the small river. James knew
finally reached James. She looked deep into his dark,
why he was there. He put the
empty eyes and began to whisper
bottle he was carrying up to his
“That phone call would haunt to him. “Do not be afraid. I will not
mouth again and let the warm
harm you.” Her whisper seemed
him for the rest of his life.”
poison trickle down his throat.
powerful and full, more so than
James knew it had to be done.
when she first spoke. “I have
He climbed up the side of the bridge, looking down at
been sent to save you. It is what I was meant to do.”
the freezing waters. He needed to be with her again.
James was in a state of awe. He was not able to
He hated being alone. He took one more drink before
talk, move, or even breathe. All he could focus on
closing his eyes for the final time.
were her eyes. They were nothing like he had ever
“Stop.” James heard a meek, little voice that
seen before. They weren’t brown, hazel, or even his
sounded like she was right next to him. He recognized favorite, green. They were a dark, clear blue. So blue,
that voice in a heartbeat. It was hers. But he knew it
James thought, that the sky was painted to match her
2011 15
eyes. She was beautiful. More so than
humanly possible. James knew there was
something different about her. Something
that wasn’t quite normal.
She began to whisper again. “Why are
you doing this? This is not the way it is
supposed to end.”
James snapped back to reality and
answered, “There is no reason for me
to be here. My world ended when her
life ended. She was taken from me!” He
began to become angry, but his emotions
immediately calmed when he looked back
at her. She looked so fragile in the rain.
But somehow the falling rain enhanced
her beauty.
As James stared at her, she gave a
slight smile. “She has not been taken
from you,” she said in an almost melodic
tone. “She has always been with you. Just
because you cannot see her does not
mean she has left you. Her love for you is
in your heart, James.”
“How do you know my name?” James
stammered, surprised and slightly scared.
“You must not be scared, for I am here
to help you. My name is Aras.” She said
this in a way that James could not help
but feel comforted.
Aras. What a unique and beautiful
name, James thought to himself. “Well
thank you, Aras,” he said in a sarcastic
tone, “but there is no way you can help
me. I have made up my mind.”
“Then why have you not jumped yet?”
Aras questioned. “If you already knew what
you were to do, why have you not fulfilled it
yet?”
James had no answer. She was right, he
thought. This is not what I want to do at all. All I want
16 Shadows
Sunflowers
André Nelson
Ink Drawing
is to be happy again. Like the way she used to make
me feel. But there is no way to feel that same emotion
again.
“How do you know there is no way?” she asked
horrible person. I’m not what I used to be. When she
him in a curious fashion.
left, I had no reason to live. I got this...” He looked at
“I just do...wait. How did you know I was thinking
the bottle in his hand. “...addiction. I hate it! I wanted
that?” James stammered. He was stunned. What is
it to end. I didn’t care how, but I wanted to leave this
she?
prison.” He began to choke up on emotions again.
“I am sorry. I should not have done that. I could not
“Be calm,” Aras whispered, “and do not be upset.”
help but wonder what you were thinking,” Aras said
Instantly, James was no longer filled with sadness
sincerely, yet very saddened.
or anger. He asked, “How on Earth do you do that?”
“Where are you even from?” He knew she was not
For the first time, Aras let a little giggle escape her.
native to Seattle by the way she talked, and he could
“It is not exactly of Earth. But that is not the purpose
not figure out any other accent that matched hers.
of me being here. You must remember this: she has
“I cannot tell you, for you would not believe me,”
not left you, so you should not leave her. Keep her
she said seriously. “What really matters is where I am memories alive. She loved you, James. She wants
now. I am here
you to stay on Earth and become
with you and you
happy again.”
are here with her. “I knew she loved me. And she is still with
“She...loved me?” James said
Do not forget
me. Why didn’t I figure this out before?” with a surprised tone. “I never
what she means
knew. She never told me.”
to you. Do you
“She knew you loved her. By the
believe that she would want you to go this way?”
way you held her and how you protected her. You do
James stared blankly at the ground. “No. She
not always have to speak to express how you feel.”
knew I was better than this.” He began to think about
Aras is right, James thought as he turned back to
her again. But he did not think of the same memories, look at the vicious river. I knew she loved me. And she
but different ones. The first time he saw her, she
is still with me. Why didn’t I figure this out before?
was sitting by herself at the football game. Their first
“Thank you for opening my eyes, Aras,” James
date, they went for a walk around the park. The first
said as he turned again to face her. “Now can you tell
time he held her close, she was frightened by the
me where you are from?” But there was no one there.
thunderstorm.
He was alone in the rain. The only light was coming
All these memories rushed back to James. He
from the streetlamp. He didn’t know what to believe.
almost collapsed from the weight of guilt placed upon
He knew she was real, but how real? “Thank you!”
him. He knew he was better than this. She would
he yelled all around him, hoping she would hear. But
have been so disappointed in his actions. And before
there was no reply.
he could realize what was happening, James began
He climbed back up the side of the bridge. He
to cry.
had finally made his decision. He looked at the bottle
“What is wrong?” Aras asked curiously. “Why do
in his hand and threw it as hard as he could into the
you cry? Those are meant to be happy moments with
depths of the water. He knew he had to change his
your loved one.”
life around. It would be hard, but he knew he wasn’t
James took a few seconds to gather his thoughts.
alone.
-Josh Pratt
Once he was able to speak, he answered Aras. “I’m a
2011
17
Change
Rob’s change started when his mom died during
there was nowhere safe he could think of, nobody he
summer vacation. She had been in and out of the
could trust, so he sat at the park till the sun started to
hospital and passed away from a large tumor in her
warm his tall, skinny body. A few hours passed and he
brain.
decided to go home. He figured that when he returned
During those months, Rob dropped out of school.
home, his unloving father would perhaps welcome
He had no interest in continuing on to his senior year
him with a large hug, so he headed back towards his
of high school. He had thought about joining the Army small trailer home hoping for some kind of affection.
because to
“Where have you been?”
him that was
exclaimed
his dad while
“Dawn came and the cool breeze that seeped
an easy way
opening up a can of beer.
through the slide’s peek holes awakened him.” “Don’t you ever worry about
out plus it
would have
your family? Huh? We’ve been
given him a chance to refrain from his dad. But that
looking everywhere for you! Get in your room; I’ll deal
dream fell off like many others. His father became
with you later!” Rob never talked back to his dad, only
even more abusive because that was the only way he on a rare occasion he would. Usually he wouldn’t dare
could handle the death of his beloved wife. Everyone
because he knew the consequences. So he went
suffered, though. One day, Rob couldn’t handle life
up to his room and sat quietly until his little brother
anymore, so he packed up his belongings, including
stepped in.
a wallet size picture of his mother, and headed for the
“Rob, why did you leave me?” expressed Trent in a
streets.
soft innocent voice.
He did not know where to got at first, so he
“I didn’t leave you. I would never leave you, buddy.
decided to go to the playground where he used to
I left Dad. You know we don’t get along.”
always go with his mother when he was younger. The
“I’m so happy you’re back! I thought you left like
playground was isolated, like many structures were in Mom left us.” This comment really upset Rob. He
his town, and was in need of repair. Rob did not mind, couldn’t tolerate hearing his little brother saying that. It
though. It was a place where he knew he would be
killed. He felt sorry and from that point on he realized
okay staying for a night, so he crept up in the aged
that Trent was his reason for living.
tube slide and went to sleep.
Dinner came soon and everyone sat at the table
Dawn came and the cool breeze that seeped
quietly. The only noise produced was from the knives
through the slide’s peek holes awakened him. He
and forks that clanked against the dinner plates.
shivered and in an instant he got up and left the park.
Finally, a low raspy voice came in. “Pack your bags,
He had almost forgotten
boy. I’m sending you
where he was and what had
“But that dream fell off like many others.” over to that teen
happened. He wandered
center downtown.
around for a few minutes, and
Maybe they’ll talk
then he figured that he should relocate. He turned left some sense into you.” Rob didn’t look up from his
and right looking for somewhere to go, anywhere, but
plate. He kept quiet. He had nothing to say. He was
18
Shadows
actually glad in a way. He got to get away for a couple open. His little brother lay in bed sleeping. Rob could
see from the doorway that Trent had a cast on his little
weeks free of charge. It was a brilliant idea except for
the fact that he didn’t want to leave his brother.
arm. Rob moved closer to his little brother. As he got
After dinner, Rob packed all of his clothes and
closer, he realized that Trent’s face was not the same.
There was a bluish bruise on his cheek and he had
once again made sure to take that one and only
a black eye. Rob had mixed emotions. He was sad,
picture he had of his mom. He always made sure to
keep it safe and close to him. After packing the very
worried, and confused.
few items of clothing that he owned, he lay in bed and
“Hey bud, I’m back. Are you okay?” Rob
slept like a baby.
whispered. Trent rolled over and sat up in his firm
bed.
Rob
did not
“Rob! I’ve missed you!
“He thought to himself that it was impossible for an
I’m okay now. It still hurts
expect
old shaggy building to change his life, but it did.”
much out
a little sometimes, but Dad
said I’ll be okay.”
of the
“Hey, can you be honest with me?” asked Rob.
center. He thought to himself that it was impossible
for an old shaggy building to change his life, but it
“You know I never lie to you, Robby!”
“Okay, then how did you get hurt, bud?”
did. All of his anger and hatred toward the world was
released. He felt remade. Almost like a new human
“I can’t say,” Trent said. “So, how was the cent-“
“Look Trent,” Rob interrupted, “you must tell me
being. All of his doubts and concerns were gone
and he could not wait to get back home to share his
what happened. You can trust me.”
“Well…”
change with his little brother and mostly his father.
“Spit it out, bud!” barked Rob. Then Trent started to
After the last day of treatment, the first person he
cry. Rob didn’t like watching his little brother cry. Trent
saw was his dad. Rob smiled at him for the first time
wiped up his tears and mumbled something. “What
in years and surprisingly ran up to him and gave him
was that?” Rob asked.
a hug. “Well, this is weird,” acknowledged Rob’s dad.
“Dad hurt me!” At first, Rob had to absorb the
“You’ve changed, I see.”
words of his sweet, innocent little brother. After
“Yeah, I really have. Um…where’s Trent?”
realizing what his little brother just said, he grew
Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed. Rob
with anger. He was furious. He could not direct his
could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.
emotions one way or another, so he got up and ran
“Trent is in his room. Why don’t you go visit him?”
out the door. His new change went out the door as
Rob was confused to why he would say “visit.” He
well. Rob was back to his old self in an instant.
dashed over to Trent’s room and swung the door
-Thana Hussein
2011
19
Untitled
Lost in the snow
Frigid but for the warmth of
Her hands
Searching for
The happy.
The darkness.
The carelessness.
The anxiety.
The childhood.
The plans for the future.
Picking up the pieces that compose her self.
Only a jigsaw puzzle of broken promises.
Lost identity.
He found her,
Frozen pieces scattered,
And lent her a warm worn hand.
Calloused from experience.
He helped her pick up and reassemble the puzzle,
Only to reveal one abstraction gone.
Missing.
She searches, despair in heart,
Emptiness sprouting from the hole.
Consuming.
But alas she cannot find the lost piece of herself.
Now his face is stone.
The statue of betrayal.
Leaving her with her mismatched self,
He walks out the door.
Sparing a guilty glance behind,
The missing piece hidden in his back pocket,
Disappears.
Nothing but a faint scent of what he meant to her
remains.
The piece disappears with him, forever prisoner.
Now with its rightful and abusive owner.
Cold surrounds her.
Emptiness suspect to frostbite.
-Krysta Hovendon
20
Shadows
Catching Stability
into a look of disappointment upon hearing so. I just
Dear Emmy,
It is Friday night. Rain pours like it has been for
cannot find the faith and the strength to pray to the
weeks. The stars are exactly how you liked them,
God that took you from me. You were only eighteen
colliding against airplanes
creating masses of white. I am
“I always told you, you looked the prettiest when you
sitting outside on a redwood
smiled, but looking back, you always looked beautiful.”
porch, getting drenched with
water, writing to you. Pointless,
I know, because you will never open these letters. I
and you died of a heart attack; unheard of, I know.
You were innocent, I was ignorant, we were young
have not given up, though, so here’s to hoping you
can hear me.
and in love, and then you were gone. I was in denial
for days before the grief hit. I hurled my phone off its
First of all, I have to admit faith is not a part of my
life anymore, and I can picture you twisting your face
holder and locked myself inside the house we shared.
Alone, I cried for
weeks, the real
gut wrenching
emotional sobs
began to sing
me to sleep. I
dreamt about you,
the color of your
auburn hair, the
way your eyes
sparkled in the
sunlight, but I
always woke up
to vacancy beside
me in bed. Emmy,
I miss you.
I always told
you, you looked
the prettiest when
Still
Life
Jessica Ewer
Colored Pencil
Drawing
2011 21
you smiled, but looking back, you always looked
beautiful. Especially when you were contemplating;
I always believed you would end up being a
philosopher.
You had the same reply every time: “No, Charlie.
You should be the philosopher, always observing the
miniscule things. I would rather be a writer, and you
know that.”
I knew you wanted to be a writer; I guess I always
thought you could do better. Be someone people
knew, instead of creating fictional characters they
would know instead. I admired you and I claimed I
could see your mind through your eyes as it tried to
decipher your uncontrollable thoughts. They played
in your head like ping pong, forced you to feel rattled
and unsafe. You always analyzed everything, and
maybe it was because you never wanted to get hurt,
Emmy. I would never hurt you. I loved you.
I remember the first
time you told me you
loved me. Maybe it was
because I gave you a
ring, your favorite type
of jewelry. But when I
think back to it, I know
you meant all eight
letters you said.
You stood
shell-shocked and
exclaimed, “Charlie!
Charlie, I love it!”
I gave you the silver
ring to wear so that
you would always feel
me raveled beneath
your knuckles even
Flowers
Annamarie Ehlers
Painting
22
Shadows
when my fingertips were miles away. One look, and
you gasped like I had just punched you in the gut, and
then flung your skeletal arms around my neck and
proclaimed you loved it. Exclaimed you loved me.
Your funeral was two weeks ago to this day, held
in your family’s church. I could barely muster the
courage to attend. I did not want to see you dead,
Emmy, but I went.
I greeted those attending. “Hello, thanks for
making it here, it really means a lot to me and Emmy’s
family.” Honestly, I did not think it mattered who
showed up and who didn’t; it would not have changed
what happened.
I listened to the condolences. “I know you loved
her, I’m sorry for your loss.”
I responded exactly how I was expected to. “I did,
thank you for coming.”
At your funeral, I never left your gloss-stained
coffin, hysterically holding onto the hand that housed
everything I did wrong. After you had hung up, you
my ring. I grasped onto the rusted thing until my palm
always came back into the dining room where I was.
started to bleed colors like tears into your coffin. I
You laughed and told me you were just joking with
hoped you would take it to heaven with you. I hoped
Steven. I never found it quite as funny as you, but at
you can feel it like my fingers
the time, I was just glad you
curling in harmony around yours.
were happy. Key word, you
“You deserved everything,
I would have done anything
were happy, until you came
everything except dying young.” home late one night.
for you, Emmy. You deserved
everything, everything except dying
It was a Monday night;
young. I reminisce about our Friday night dinners
already pitch black outside, you slammed our front
together. They always ended with a slow dance, your
door, and stormed inside.
head draped on my shoulder as we swayed to our
I was concerned. Nervously I asked, “Emmy? Are
favorite songs. I can feel your forehead resting on
you alright?”
the concave skin of my clavicle and it makes it hard
You fumed past me into our bedroom, mumbled
to breathe. I need you to be alive; I need you to hold
something that sounded a lot like hate.
me like you used to, because I am terrified nobody
I followed you into the beige colored room and
else will. Realistically, Emmy, I know you were my
furiously questioned you. “What did he do? It’s okay.
only love and that scares me to death, but I know
You know you can tell me anything.”
sometimes you didn’t love me back.
You looked up, tears in your eyes, and started to
You were still in love with your best friend,
sob. “He left. Steven said he was moving. He said
Steven. He knew you years before we met; he knew
he needed space, he needed time, but I know it was
everything about you before I did. I accepted your
something I did. He wouldn’t talk about it; he just said
friendship, convinced myself into believing you were
he was moving and left.”
nothing more than friends. But Emmy, I knew you
I threatened to strangle the man. I hollered and
loved him, or at least some part of him. You called him soothed, all simultaneously. I knew I could not do
to talk when I was across the table, you wanted to be
anything about it though. Steven was probably
around him when you were already beside me, and
miles away by now, far from his best friend. I didn’t
you never asked my opinion on your life goals, only
know what to do, Emmy. You lay there, immersed
his. I dealt with it though, because I knew it was either in blankets and tears, and sobbed. I knew the only
that, or lose you.
person who could make you feel better was Steven,
You were always on the phone longer than anyone but he was gone, and I was never as good at
I have ever
consoling you. I ran downstairs,
known.
“Realistically, Emmy, I know you were my only boiled water for tea, and rented
Generally,
your favorite movies. I let you
love and that scares me to death, but I know
you talked
have time alone, because I knew
sometimes you didn’t love me back.”
to Steven.
it was what you needed.
Conversed
There is a point to me reliving
about the weather, about the games, and everything
this event, because last week, Steven came to the
I had done to frustrate you. At the time, I just walked
house we shared. I heard the echo of engine exhaust
out of the room; I never needed to hear you talk about from our bedroom, and then a doorbell. I unlocked the
2011 23
door and swung back the paint chipped hinge.
target as I walked back downstairs.
“Hey…. hey, Charlie. I know I’m late. I missed the
I told him to explain his disappearance so many
funeral. It was last week, wasn’t it?”
months ago. Tried to make him realize the stress his
My first reaction was to slam the door in his face,
departure put on our relationship.
my second to slam
I pleaded with him. “Please. Just say
my fist in his face,
anything that will make this situation right!”
“I am sorry Emmy; you would
and the third was
He was incapable of fixing all the mistakes
be
so
disappointed.”
to listen for you,
he made in the past. I knew that, but I couldn’t
Emmy.
have cared less at the time.
“What are you doing here? Showing up after she
He opened his mouth and attempted to console
died! She died, Steven. She’s dead!” I yelled with the me, but all I heard was, “I loved her more than you,
fury of a grieving man.
Charlie.”
Steven looked at me, blinked away the water in his
I lifted the gun from my pocket and aimed it
eyes, and said, “I know, Charlie, I know. I just needed
straight at his heart.
to see her house again. I needed to remember her.”
“NO! Charlie! You don’t want to do this! Please,
My emotions boiled over into insanity and sarcasm please, don’t!” Steven screamed at the sight of my
and I proclaimed, “You need to leave. You already
weapon.
left! You left her, Steven. For no reason, other than it
He was helpless. Soon, he would feel the pain you
was what you wanted. You made us miserable every
did, feel the pain I felt after you died, he would feel the
single day. I watched her cry and vent and scream, all pain of death. I only remember bits and pieces after
because you left her. Your best friend.”
this. He shouted, turned, and I placed my finger on
As Steven grew more anxious and irritated, he
the trigger. I am sorry for what I did, but he deserved
tried to plead with me. “Charlie, I loved her too. That’s it. I pulled back my index finger covered in sweat. I felt
why I left, because she had you and she wouldn’t
the release of the bullet and I watched him go down.
change her mind. It tore me apart. Can’t you see I
Everything went black; then, he was dead. Steven
needed to leave?”
was dead, you were dead, and I was still alive. I sank
I scoffed and steamed as I let him inside. I have
to the tile floor, head on my knees, and stayed there
never been so heated in my entire life, Emmy. He left
for what seemed like hours, guilty. That was how the
you because he loved you; it made no sense at the
police found me.
time, but now
The
I’m starting to
neighbors
“Love makes us do crazy things; nobody understands
understand.
must have
because I loved you more than what the word love means.” feverishly
What I did
next, I’m not
dialed 911
proud of, but I needed to do something.
after they heard a gunshot. I heard pounding on the
I let him inside as I stalked up the carpeted stairs.
front door. I was then assaulted by a police officer
I opened our bedroom door, then the cabinet that
who apparently could not tell I was not in the best
always stayed shut. I retrieved a silver gun. The metal shape to put up a fight. I let him shove me into the
felt like ice in the pocket of my jeans, and I could feel
back of his squad car; there was already a crowd
my hands as they started to clam at the sight of their
of curious bystanders outside our house. I was
24 Shadows
arrested and charged with manslaughter. Luckily, I
escaped prison, because my lawyer pleaded insanity.
His idea of an alternative was to place me in an
institution. I was brought to an asylum, where I have
been for days. I am sorry Emmy; you would be so
disappointed.
Today, it is Friday night, and the rain patters
against the redwood porch as I am writing to you.
The therapists are encouraging me to write to you;
they say it will help me understand why I took such
drastic measures. They tell me I am still in remorse
over your death, and they are probably right. I don’t
think anybody ever gets over death, but they must
learn how to deal with it because not everyone ends
up in an asylum like I did. They are right, I need help,
but as of now all they do is make me remember
how much I loved you. They try to convince me I am
mentally unstable, impaired; they even deemed me a
sociopath, but I don’t think I am. I think I loved you too
much, Emmy. Love makes us do crazy things; nobody
understands because I loved you more than what the
word love means. I took the definition to an extent
nobody could imagine but me. I turned the word death
into desperation and killed someone for revenge. I
know you will not love me after reading this letter, but
trust me: everything I did was for you.
Love,
Charlie
-Claire Holtz
Four Dancers
Edgar Degas Rendition
Anina Munesisoumang
Acrylic Painting
2011
25
Unlocked
Nicolette Sorensen
Charcoal Drawing
26
Shadows
CHAINS
linking us
to our
PAST
2011
1
Between the Snowflakes
Falling white flecks peek out from the pitch black
night outdoors. I look at the balled up snow in my
of winter night. A blanket of fresh fallen snow can
pink mitten, sparkling like the Christmas lights that
be seen sparkling from the glow of the house. The
are giving us enough glow to be able to make out the
silence is so captivating I can almost hear the soft
dark objects around us. I pack the lump deeper into
overlay of snow on top of the already fluffy white
the snow around me as it begins to turn into the large
powder. The broken wooden fence in the back pasround bottom sphere of a snowman. An icy chunk falls
ture disappears against the white sequins, casting a
on my head as my eyes are fixed on the growing ball
dark shadow
of snow around
caused by
“I give up on the quiet, serene night I was surrounded by me. The glob of
the two bright
snow began to
moments ago in turn for a more exciting night outdoors.” melt through my
squares of
light comhat, soaking into
ing from the nearest house on the corner. The bite of
my already damp hair. “Hey!” I yell over the laughsilent December air reddens my cheeks as I sit alone
ter of Jamie and my older sister Kelsey and brother
in the peaceful blackness.
Bryan, standing under the glow of the dim porch light.
Suddenly, the perfect untouched layer of snow
They are dressed as marshmallows in winter attire as
flies from the ground as it’s interrupted by the runthey run out into the frigid winter air. Being the perfecning prints of my black lab, Champ. Unaffected by
tionist she is, Kelsey begins carving out the imperfecthe icy chill of wind from his speed, Champ’s pink
tions from my half-constructed snowman, pink tongue
tongue flaps back from his open jaws. A large mass of sticking out in concentration. I laugh at the connection
dark green overlaps Champ as he goes tumbling into
she makes to Champ sitting next to her, matching pink
the snow; quickly followed by a mess of limbs from
coming from the corners of their mouths. In the corner
the green jacket belonging to my youngest brother,
of my eye, I see Bryan lunge at Jamie in the same
Jamie. My startled scream breaks the stillness of the
way Jamie had to Champ, creating a swirl of dark
night mixed with Jamie’s bouncy laughter. Confused,
green and red. Kelsey and I turn our focus back to the
I question, “When did you get out here?” Jamie snaps snowman, chiseling away when we are smacked with
back, “Since now stupid.” Annoyed, I scoop a handful
dense icy wads from behind.
of white fluff and toss it in my brother’s face, sticking
Through the blustery subzero wind, snow falls
to his flushed cheeks. The calm, peaceful dark night
like confetti around us, as we kick up slush at each
now transother. Forts are constructed for shelter from
forms into
“They are dressed as marshmallows the traitorous war zone that was once a quiet
a battle of
suburban front yard. Through the snow I see
in winter attire as they run out into
flying powsmall toddlers taking shape from the teenage
the
frigid
winter
air.”
der with
frames. We have returned to our childhood
spurts of
innocence, to the feeling of wet frosty snow
high-pitched screams and Champ’s interrupting barks. on our peach colored faces underneath the gleam
I give up on the quiet, serene night I was surcoming from a home with the promise of warmth and
rounded by moments ago in turn for a more exciting
hot cocoa.
28 Shadows
We begin to feel the arctic temperature interrupting
the energy around us restoring reality, like waking up
from a hazy dream. Escaping into the house, we all
go our different directions, Kelsey to her room, Bryan
to the computer, Jamie to his videogames. I fold
myself into the dark mahogany armchair in the corner
of the living room. Champ jumps onto my lap, warming me with his fur. The small patches of white on his
nose suddenly become apparent to me as I run my
fingers along them, and I wonder why I hadn’t noticed
them before.
Then, I hadn’t noticed the patches of white because I had grown used to seeing them slowly appear. I had been aging with him, and realized we
were growing older, I just never realized until I look
back. We don’t instantly feel our bones lengthen or
our muscles grow, the same way we don’t feel the
space between us as we slowly grow apart from each
other. That was the moment I had begun to realize the
distance there was between my siblings. Soon col-
lege would come for Bryan, and shortly after Kelsey.
Our days were numbered together, and we had barely
noticed.
I stare out into the dark winter night still dreaming,
seeing the images of the once small children laughing and tossing glossy spheres of snow. Between
the small white flecks, we made a connection we
were beginning to lose. As we were growing older
we became independent of each other, leading our
own lives. We all lived in worlds where we didn’t need
each other to feel safe anymore; we all felt secure
in our own skin. Yet, these small connections over
the years through the small white flecks of our lives
reminded me of what once was, and what would be
possible later on in our lives. We are a part of each
other even when we lead our separate lives, and
growing older doesn’t have to mean becoming isolated from our past, but making those moments live as a
part of our future.
-Jenna Penrod
Express
Kerri Vang
Photograph
2011
29
A Spanish Night
The anticipation was killing me. I needed to be
Spain, had become our vision at the top of the three
free--free from the musty, underground claustrophosets of stairs Kara and I had to walk up in order to get
bia of the station, free from forced slowness due to
to our rooms.
polite kindness, free to run up into the city, absorb the
The atmosphere began to change when we drew
culture, and embrace a new sight. After almost two
closer to our first destination, the Plaza Mayor. There
full weeks in Madrid, I had yet to explore the glorious
was less chaos than the downtown area of the city.
city at night. Seventy degree air caressed my skin
The roads transformed from smooth black pavement
as I reached the stairs of the Plaza de España metro
to salt and pepper cobblestones, uneven under my
station. I was with my three new friends, Kara, Krisgold plastic flip-flops. The buildings took a step back
ten, and Julz, whom I met on my first day in Spain.
in time; the air released a long sigh of relaxation. I
My problem at the moment was
could hear a violinist playing
that Julz walked like a turtle
a romantic lullaby in a nearby
“No words could escape from
with four broken legs, and the
street, and a few blocks up an
my throat; in fact, no words
Spanish night life was summonelderly man played the accorseemed
to
even
exist.”
ing me like a slave to its master.
dion. The dull whisper of the
As we reached the final step
Spanish language tinkled in my
up into the city, I was overwhelmed by a state of awe. ear from various passersby, its familiar sound creating
It was around ten, creating a shimmering, deep navy
an unbreakable bond with my soul.
sky. The buildings sparkled with the illuminating glow
I gasped as we entered the Plaza Mayor. No
of lampposts and the modern city look of the day
words could escape from my throat; in fact, no words
vanished to reveal a city fit for 18th century kings. The seemed to even exist. The beauty of the Plaza
streets were littered with the typical Spaniards: those
beamed from wall to wall. Glimmering lights danced
couples expressing their love with a very intimate,
across the marble white buildings, which took on an
very public kiss; those in their clubbing outfits ready to air of mystery and adventure. The square Plaza was
go spend their night dancing and drinking at Capitol or surrounded by various shops and restaurants and
another discoteca until five in the morning; and those, filled with street performers and disturbing goat pupincluding us four, who were simply out to wander the
pets that would jump out at unaware victims to receive
city, maybe get something to eat, and enjoy life.
a spare coin or two. I half expected to see princes
As we made our way down the various streets of
and princesses dancing a royal waltz or a dragon soar
Madrid, we talked about class and our teachers. Even past the moon. It was like a fairy tale, a place that
more so we gossiped about the cute Spanish boys,
simply could not exist.
like the dark, handsome pool boy who was the only
We window shopped and people watched for
reason we went to the dorm pool, and the attractive
almost an hour when the smells of Spanish cuisine
residents of our dorm like Ian from Colorado who
finally overwhelmed our grumbling stomachs. I took
teased us with his gorgeous face. We also gushed
one last look at the night-covered Plaza Mayor and
over Taylor Lautner, who, although not Spanish or in
off we went, seeking our next stop: Chocolateria San
30
Shadows
Gines. Slowly we made our way back into the downfor an hour or so, drinking the rest of the chocolate
town area of Madrid, coming once again to Plaza de
and enjoying each other’s company.
España. It was close to midnight and the real night
As it grew closer to one in the morning, we reluclife had begun to surface. Men wolftantly made our
whistled as women passed; chatterway out of the
“The
lights
danced
on
the
grand
ing buzzed through the streets. The
building and into
buildings as night owls emerged from the streets of
city was alive with energy. I shivered,
their homes ready to join the lights.” Madrid, stomthough the air was not cold. I felt more
full of life than ever before. Everything
achs full of sweet
was perfect.
chocolate, ready
Soon we arrived at the Chocolateria. It was a
for bed. I could once again hear the music playing,
quaint little restaurant at the end of a side street. We
see the couples embracing, and feel the energy of
had come for what it was known for: serving churros
Spain flow through my veins. As we approached the
con chocolate 24/7. We walked inside and were torentrance to the Plaza de España metro station, a
mented by the intoxicating smells of rich semi-sweet
thought dashed across my consciousness. After a
chocolate and fried dough. The restaurant was white
perfect night in Spain, I knew it was my fate to travel
and forest green with accents of gold. The tables
the world and experience nights like this. I realized I
and chairs welcomed our aching feet and the air was
must immerse myself in other cultures, study them,
full of contentment. We all got our money together,
and feel their energy. I must make a bond with other
two Euros per person, and briefly argued about who
languages as I have with Spanish. Before that night,
should order. After a rather thunderous growl from my before walking around the Plaza Mayor, before expestomach, I decided I would, even though I was nerriencing Spanish culture, before I arrived in Spain, I
vous and embarrassed to speak my elementary level
simply had a dream of traveling the world and speakSpanish. “Dos churros con chocolate,” and it was
ing ten other languages. After that night, the future
done. I gave the cashier our money, and we sat down. was set in stone. I chose my destiny and my mind
In a few
was at peace.
minutes,
Before I took the first step down into
“It was close to midnight and the real the metro, I looked back at the city. The
the churros
night life had begun to surface.”
arrived, and
lights danced on the grand buildings as
we were in
night owls emerged from their homes
heaven! The chocolate was basically melted chocoready to join the lights. I could hear the music and feel
late in a cup and the churros were fried perfection that the energy that impelled them to live. A few Spanish
sent my taste buds into a frenzy of delight. Put them
words drifted into my ear as I looked into the deep,
together with a dash of powdered sugar and my life
shimmering navy sky: amor, idiomas, and viaje: love,
was complete! We devoured the churros like hyenas
languages, and travel.
would a fresh baby antelope and sat in the restaurant
-Shelby Cooper
2011
31
Where I’m From
Inspired by ‘Where I’m From’ by Lyons
I am from big families and big opinions,
I’m from the independents
And the outspoken,
from get up and get down.
I’m from the Catholic family of five children
being the baby of them all
with late arrivals to church
and weekly school mass.
Hello. Operator?
Anastasia Smith
Photograph
The Weight of All Things
It all began with a pakpakpak!
Then came a splatsplatsplat!
You were either left or right,
Or stayed out of sight.
You had to be clever like a fox,
Always thinking out of the box.
Hiding like a mole
Was the smartest way to roll.
If you were ever caught,
You would have to think of something on the spot.
After you were released
You would be screaming freedom and peace.
When the war is finally over
You’ll be praying over and over,
Please lift the weight of all things off my shoulder.
32
-Justin Hummelgard
Shadows
I am from fresh cookies and rich brownies of my
skilled mother
From hide-and-go-seek tag,
From big family trips and Sunday brunches
I’m from Grandpa and Grandma’s house
hours of playing cards with tea and coffee
from the Easter egg hunts of my childhood
to the Thanksgiving Day feasts and
the messages sent through the laundry chute.
Dance floors stage my life
While I spin my way on the football field
Challenging the laws of gravity
With the height of my rifle
While growing up in a generic background
Of white suburbia and small towns
My parents taught me diversity,
Introducing the world beyond
And I dream to push the limits of my destiny
To make a difference with my education
Because where I’m from does not limit
Who I am to become
-Natalie Sterner
The Game
As I opened the rear door of the family car, the
see myself nonchalantly strutting up to him, adjusting
intense summer air knocked me back as if I had been my cap. “It’s okay,” I would say, “Everyone knows I’m
hit with a sledgehammer. I ignored the sweat that
faster anyway.” At the last moment, though, I tripped
had already begun to creep down my forehead as I
over my own feet. I stumbled and lost whatever lead I
stepped outside. Despite the heat, it was a picturemight have had. Typical.
perfect day: the sky was the ideal shade of blue,
“Ha! I beat you! Emily, you are so slow.” As we
and marshmallow clouds filled the sky. The fragrant,
regrouped, panting and gasping for breath near a basfreshly-cut grass was a shocking emerald. Robins,
ketball hoop, my brother triumphantly threw his hands
sparrows, and bluejays shattered
in the air.
the silence with thunderous argu“The wind I created from my formidable speed He flashed
ing as they perched in the uppera victorious
clawed at my face, daring me to slow down.”
most branches of the surrounding
smile in my
pine trees.
direction,
“Race you!” my ten-year-old brother, Sam, shouted making a small dimple appear on his left temple. He
over his shoulder as he sprinted at a breakneck pace
ran a hand through his now thoroughly soaked blond
toward a grassy area near the park. Young children
hair, and promptly put his hands on his knees and
squealed in delight, where they zipped down brightly
doubled over, trying to regain his breath. Dad finally
colored slides, raced across bridges, and swung
caught up to us, lugging a football and three enoracross monkey bars as their smiling parents stood off mous water bottles dripping with condensation. He
to the side, armed with video cameras. For days, Sam set everything down and donned a faded red baseball
had been telling my dad and me about an exciting
cap. We attacked the water bottles with a ferocity that
new game he had made up with his friends, and he
would have rivaled a dehydrated refugee recently
was barely able to contain his excitement now that he returned from the Sahara. We took massive gulps,
was finally going to play with us.
not quite managing to keep all of the water inside our
I grinned as I pounded my foot into the pavement
parched mouths. After a short eternity, we stood and
of the parking lot and ran after him. I swung my arms, approached the old basketball hoop with a faded but
quickly building momentum, and forced my feet to go
reliable backboard.
faster. There was no way he was going to beat me.
The game was simple: from a set distance, we
The wind I created
would get ten chances to throw the football
from my formidable
into the basketball hoop. After each of us went,
“He flashed a victorious smile
speed clawed at
we would move the distance back, and repeat
in my direction, making a small
my face, daring
the process. The person with the most basdimple appear on his left temple.” kets won. I won the coin toss (most commonly
me to slow down.
Sam was already
known as rock–paper–scissors), so I stepped
halfway to the imaginary finish line, so I ran harder
up to the line first. The material of the blue toy football
and faster. The distance between us rapidly closed.
felt smooth, almost slippery in my hands as I sized
I could already taste sweet victory. I could already
up my shot. Wow! Was the hoop really that far away?
2011
33
Sapatos
Jettel Thomas
Charcoal Drawing
The now miniscule net swung slightly in
the gentle breeze. I started to tense. If I
lost by a large margin, Sam would never
let me live it down. Years from now, I
would hear about how great he was at
this game and how much I…wasn’t. Stop
it! You’re being stupid, I reassured myself. I decided that it wasn’t something I
should worry about – I was obviously going to win. I shook my head and snapped
back to reality. I took a breath, narrowed
my eyes, stepped back, and threw the
football completely over the hoop.
My brother and dad laughed at me
– “Hey, Emily! The hoop’s down here!”
– but I couldn’t help but smile. I’d show
them! They tossed the football back at me for my
second shot. The net looked bigger this time. I can do
this! I confidently readjusted, coiled, and launched the
ball back into the air. With a poetic trajectory, it hit the
backboard with a dull thunk, and fell lazily into the net.
I jumped in joy and pumped my fist into the air.
I will remember the pure happiness I felt that afternoon for the rest of my life. I can’t accurately describe
how I felt. Elated? Euphoric? Carefree? Whatever
the case, it was a time when I could just let loose and
have fun. I didn’t have to worry about what I had to
do tomorrow, or what I really should do after dinner.
I could simply focus on having fun. It made me feel
like a little kid again. I didn’t need anything special or
expensive to play. I would make it up as I went along
with what I had and who I was with. I realize more
than ever now that school is back in session how
important it is to relax some of the time and to not
worry so much. In school I am always moving due to
my busy schedule. If I am not doing the mountain of
34
Shadows
homework threatening to topple over while simultaneously shoveling dinner in my mouth, or worriedly
poring over my physics textbook for tomorrow’s quiz,
or rushing out the door to make golf practice on time,
I am utterly exhausted. If luck is with me, I can find
my bed before I collapse and fall asleep. During the
school year, I find myself feeling guilty if I take a half
hour break to watch TV or to take a jog to rest my
weary brain. Guilty! It disgusts me! When am I going
to force it through my thick skull that I need to relax?
If I could learn from instances such as The Game, I
would be much more mentally sharp in school and a
great deal happier at home.
Now that I realize the importance of enjoying the
simpler moments of life, I do the best I can to recreate that feeling of pure joy as often as I can. In these
moments, I make myself put aside the sometimes
overwhelming urge to let the stress consume me. I
cherish the moments when I succeed, however simple
or seemingly insignificant they might be.
-Emily Anderson
New Roots
A room that is all windows opens up before me. A
twin bed with a huge blanket of bright greens and floral patterns seems to call my name. A strong wooden
desk stands between the bed and the window. A
reclining chair sits old and worn beneath the window.
Posters from the room’s previous occupant cover the
walls. One reminds me “dass Leben ist schön” life
is beautiful, another a beautiful beach sunset, and
I laugh when my eyes fall upon six shirtless men in
short shorts pushing a bus. At least they have a sense
of humor, I think. From behind me Waltraud softly
coos, “Deine Zimmer,” Your room. All I feel is exhaustion as my bag slips from my shoulder onto the desk.
Other emotions begin to creep up inside me. Relief:
I made it! I’ve done it! I survived! I got on that plane
and I made it here!! Pride: Look at what I’ve already
accomplished! Look what I’ve already seen! Fear:
What is still to come? What if I’m not ready? What if I
can’t understand? What if I can’t make it? Homesickness: What is Mommy doing right now? Is she OK? Is
she worried about me? And what about Josh? What is
he doing? Does he miss me? Guilt: What am I putting
them all through? My eyes brim with tears as wave
after wave of exhaustion and emotions crash over me.
I can’t think about that now. Now it’s my turn. I have to
remember that. It’s my turn to live.
From the small living room across the hall I hear
David starting to pester his dad and they wrestle in
the living room.
Waltraud is sing“All I feel is exhaustion
ing in the kitchen
as my bag slips from my
as she makes
shoulder onto the desk.”
dinner; the whole
place is warm despite the snow outside. As afraid as I am, I have been
welcomed. The laughter is refreshing, and I hope I’ll
be laughing with them soon. But for now, the first test
has been passed, and with an exhausted sigh I heave
my bag onto the table and begin unpacking.
Tonight we have rented a small white video projector in order to beam “traditional Austrian music videos”
from YouTube onto our living room wall. My hostbrothers make the
first selection and
“Now it’s my turn. I
folk music blares
have to remember that. from the speakers.
It’s my turn to live.”
They sing with the
performers projected
on our living room wall. Dust mites dance along in the
beam of light and their numbers grow as we move furniture in preparation for some dancing. My host-mom,
Waltraud, sings along with an unwavering soprano;
Laurenz matches her with a strong tenor. The boys
belt out whatever pitch and key they feel. David jumps
up into the newly open space and begins dancing to
bad techno sung by the Austrian hero, D.J. Ötzi.
“HHHHEEEEYYYYY! HEY BABY!! OOH! AHH!” he
belts out, bringing me to tears of laughter. He shakes
his long gangly limbs in every direction causing his
brothers to raise their arms to protect their faces.
It’s Waltraud’s turn to choose a song and it’s one
the family knows very well. All of a sudden they have
sheet music covering the table and Laurenz pulls out
a guitar I have never seen before and plays and sings
along. The family turns it into a yodel; Florian raises
his hands as high as an opera singer hitting a high
note. I double over grabbing a stitch in my side as I
laugh and cry.
“Morgan! You have to come dance with us!” Elias
calls to me in German.
“Nein, nein! No, no! I can’t! I really can’t dance!”
“Well Morgan, you are here to learn and dancing is
a very important part of our culture,” Florian chimes in,
his voice smug.
2011
35
“Komm schon Morgan! Come now Morgan! Come
fast. Didn’t I just get here? I feel like I only just got
dance with us!” Waltraud’s bright smile reaches from
comfortable, like my bags were only just unpacked.
ear to ear and it’s her outstretched hand I reach out
Alas, here they all are, stacked in the entryway. The
for.
smells of my last meal waft to me from the kitchen.
“Fine,” I sigh as I stand up to begin my humiliating
Chicken, curry, onion, cucumber, potato, and cheese
trot. But despite my distaste for this dance lesson, I’m come to tickle my nose. These are scents I associate
thrilled they’ve included me.
with home, comfort, happiThrilled that I’m here danc“I am overwhelmingly grateful to be ness, and laughter. With my
ing with the family. Affection
family. They are my family
here with these people in this dark
for them wells in my throat.
now, and they will always be
apartment
dancing
like
a
fool.”
I look at these people in
my family. And now I am bethis dark little room, and my
ing forced to leave them.
heart swells with happiness. Happiness is something I
My host-mom is bustling around the kitchen wearthought I would never find here.
ing her favorite skirt, a beautiful bold floral pattern in
Florian is set to be my first partner, and informs me bright whites, greens, and yellows. She smiles catchwe are going to waltz. His hand grips the fabric of my
ing me watching her. I stand in my room feeling my
T-shirt above my shoulder blade and my palms begin
heart break. I’m not ready to leave; I don’t want to let
to sweat.
go of Austria. I look around at my now empty room.
“It’s easy,” he assures me. Right, I think back at
The potted orchids and daisies I’ve accumulated will
him.
stay, but my desk is no longer covered with books. My
I spend a few painful minutes tripping over and
closet is no longer filled with my clothes. Scarves and
stomping on Flo’s feet until Elias offers to relieve him
necklaces no longer hang from the nails protruding
of duty.
from the wall. My pictures and postcards have been
“Oh nein Eli! You don’t have to too!” But his smile
removed and the walls now scream pure white.
is warm and genuine and his grip is not half as firm
The boys move about as usual, only quieter. I’d
as Florian’s. Despite the fact that Elias’s head barely
like to think they will miss me. I know I will miss them.
reaches my nose, I find him to be a far better dance
Eli walks up and stands in my open doorway.
partner. We
“How are
whip around,
you doing?”
“They are my family now, and they will always be my family.” his kind voice
turning the
room into
rumbles.
a blur. I snort as Eli whips me about until I trip and
Tears spring to my eyes and I choke out, “I’m OK.”
fall sideways onto the sofa. Tears of laughter stream
He hears the lie in my words but he is kind enough
down my face.
not to comment.
Together we all laugh and hug in the tiny living
“You’ll be happy to be home too, though. Trust me.
room and I am overwhelmingly grateful to be here
But leaving is always bittersweet.”
with these people in this dark apartment dancing like
I have long since forgotten everything is in Gera fool.
man. The words come naturally to my ears and lips.
Another thing I have to thank my family for. They have
I can’t believe my time is done here. It went by too
trained me well.
36 Shadows
The Dance Class
Edgar Degas Rendition
Annamarie Ehlers
Magazine Clippings
From the kitchen Waltraud calls,
“Essen kommen” Food is coming.
She has called out these two words
twice a day almost every day for the
past seven months. And this is the
last time. At the thought I lose my
breath. Last time. Last time. Last
time. Last time. Last time. It has been
going through my head all day as I
take my last steps through Vienna
and through my apartment. Today is a
day of “last times.”
For the last time I scoot around the
brown leather bench to my spot at the
elm wooden table. She made all my
favorites: chicken curry and rice, cucumber and potato salad, fresh-diced
tomato and onion, and chocolate torte
for dessert. The spread covers the
entire table.
I’m torn between shoving the food
into my mouth as fast as I can and
savoring every bite. But before I know
it the food is gone and my departure
time is creeping closer.
Out of nowhere Laurenz stands
up and runs off to another room. He
comes back with a small folder. In an
official voice he announces, “I thought
long and hard about what I would get
Morgan as a going away present. So I made a list of
all the things I know about her. One is that she is a
great communicator, and can very easily convince
other people to do what she wants them to… like a
President.” At this point I’m laughing and crying. I look
into his kind and intelligent blue-green eyes and think
about all the things he has taught me: the tour of the
city, the homework help, and the grammar and vocabulary lessons.
“The second is that she wants to study Anthropology and loves to lean. She’s curious and inquisitive,
2011
37
and will go to great academic heights. And the third
Laurenz makes me promise to come home soon.
thing I know about Morgan is her hair.” I can’t hold in
Elias doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
my bursts of laughter. I have no idea where he is goHe is solid in his science as he always has been.
ing with this, but it doesn’t surprise me that his train of He beams into my eyes. I hug Flo and say, “My best
thought is so far ahead of mine.
German teacher,” into his ear. He laughs and gives
“Because of these things I predict that Morgan
me a squeeze. David makes a face at me, sticking
will become the President of LFHCfS.” My eyebrows
out his tongue and pulling up his lips at odd angles.
shoot up to my hairline, but Laurenz’s amused exThen gives me a big toothy grin, a hug, and he jabs
pression says that was exactly what he was hoping
my ribs one last time where he knows I’m ticklish. Last
for. “The Luxurious Flowing Hair Club for Scientists,”
is my second mom. We don’t say anything mostly
he explains, an all-knowing smile dancing on his lips.
because we can’t. Both of us are in tears and we hug
The room explodes into laughter and wiping away
and pull away three times before I finally have to go. I
tears as I accept the light blue
step onto the train and Harry
folder. My picture smiles up at
Potter pops into my head as I
“I’m not going home. Not really.”
me on a signed certificate. It
wave to them with my tearis the most thoughtful gift I’ve
stained face pressed to the
ever received.
window.
Then my host-mom stands. Oh god! I can’t handle
I’m not going home. Not really.
this! I scream in my head.
The amount of kindness that was shown to me by
“I also wanted to get you something so that you
my host-family continues to amaze me. These people
will always remember us, and know how much you
opened their hearts and home to a complete stranger
mean to us. It goes along with a Viennese phrase,
and went to every length to make that stranger feel at
‘weil du so tief in unsere Hertz bist.’ Because you are
home and welcome. It just so happens that that lucky
so deep in our hearts.” As my tears of affection and
stranger was me. They gave me freedom or guidelove flow toward this wonderful woman she pulls out
lines, a free fall or a parachute; they were whatever
a blue Swarovski Crystal box and opens it to reveal a
I needed them to be. By watching them I learned to
chain bracelet with an open crystal heart. The crystals treat people with an open heart and an open mind. I
sparkle like snowflakes around the elegantly curving
work to incorporate the kindness and openheartedlines of the heart. It is the most beautiful thing I have
ness of that family into who I am. I work to look at
ever seen. My body shakes as I stand to hug her.
others and see friends I could make, not strangers I
What am I going to do without her? is the only thought don’t know, and to see ways that I could improve the
in my head.
world around me by understanding our differences
Suddenly we’re at the train station. I’m not quite
and thriving despite them. Every day I remember the
sure how we got here. But my train is here and it is
wonderful things they did for me, and try to treat othtime for me to get on board. Last hugs go around.
ers the way they treated this total stranger.
-Morgan Wychor
38
Shadows
An Autumn Epiphany
Silence gripped our throats as we stripped our
sensation overtook my chest. It was like taking the
sweat-drenched soccer gear. One by one, my teamstage in front of a full house or sighting a friendly face
mates sauntered toward their parents fearing some
amidst a party of strangers. But as quickly as it came,
sort of corporal punishment they knew wouldn’t come, the feeling vanished, and the reality of the situation
until Josh and I remained alone, absorbing the failure
returned. Stillness held the space around us, and only
of yet another St. Joseph’s soccer season and realizthe wind’s hushed whistle could be heard. With each
ing it as our eighth grade year’s underachievement.
exhalation, a sporadic fog would drift forward only to
Through my entire stay at St. Joe’s, Josh was aldissolve in the autumn air. From left to right, our eyes
ways by my side. Amidst a minuscule class of twenty
moved in unison from the empty net across the vacant
where conflict was inevitable, we always had each
bleachers and scoreboard back toward the fading
other’s backs like brothers. We leaned on each other
public lawn.
for support over meaningless third grade playground
Merely to break the silence, I questioned, “So what
drama, backed each other up during the escalating
are you doing?”
fifth grade arguments, and stood strong together unBut under my shield of feigned ignorance, I knew.
der the development of seventh grade cliques.
“Well, this is it. I just want to remember this,” he
I gathered myself, stood up, prepared for deparreplied shyly.
ture, and took small meandering steps not leaving my
What “it” was, I wasn’t sure. I figured it was open to
comrade too far behind. Catching my hint, he joined
interpretation. “It” could’ve been as insignificant as the
me on the trek toward our mothers, waiting under the
end of one of our many soccer seasons. “It” could’ve
impatient mumble
been another step toward the
of the minivans’
“It wasn’t more than two or three minutes I completion of St. Joe’s. But I
engines. Crossing
think “it” was bigger.
stood
there
next
to
my
best
friend,
but
my
the field through
The intense beams that
mind took pictures for a lasting effect.”
the arctic winds,
shot down from the sky lit up
Josh set his Adithe field while darkening all
das duffle bag down, and took a glance over his left
escaping its grasp. Engulfed in all that just occurred,
shoulder.
the sub-zero temperatures lost their effect on me. This
“Hold on, I just want to stand here for a second.”
was no longer about the frigid air, the heart-breaking
Without question or wonder, I followed him back
defeat, or even us; it was about life. I stepped tointo the athletic battlefield reeking of defeat.
ward the parking lot, but something held me back.
It wasn’t more than two or three minutes I stood
I wandered away from the October picture only to
there next to my best friend, but my mind took piccatch myself stealing a peek over my left shoulder.
tures for a lasting effect. Together, we scanned the
Josh continued to admire perfection’s portrait, and I
scene paying attention to the most intricate details.
waited for a sign that would force me to stay a while,
The scent of wet grass filled our nostrils like morning
something to give me the power to fully capture this
dew, and the crisp yet gentle freezing breeze occumoment. It never came. Surrendering my optimism, I
pied our lungs. For a brief moment, an exhilarating
trotted toward the lot, not allowing myself to look back.
2011 39
It is funny how time moves, an untamed beast,
uncontrollable, lunging and recoiling. It contains the
uncanny ability to race by as a frightened doe or
linger like an erratic, unexplainable aura. It plays itself
to be your salvation, before thrusting you into a ditch
of despair. For my entire life, I have tried to tame it
like a fierce raging bull. But in this moment, perhaps
it calmed down enough to speak to me. By no means
were we comfortable with each other, but now, perhaps we had the chance to get acquainted enough to
calm down and guide one another.
Taking my final steps off
the field, I caught a glimpse
of the few dim stars. Most of
them were killed by light pollution or meandering clouds,
but some remained in all
their glory. They had so much
space, freedom, no worries
or concerns. They formed
constellations with each other
under no ulterior motives other than to be admired by the
rest of the universe. Maybe
that’s how they learned to live
so long.
Maybe “it” was only an opportunity to step back, listen,
and admire, the chance to
experience the sensation
spurred by nature. Maybe
Josh wasn’t telling me “this is
it” as in the end of something,
but “this is it” as in a moment
so important, it was worthy
Koi in Peace
Zachary Tubbs
Oil Pastel Drawing
40
Shadows
of pause and reflection. Maybe the solutions to the
countless number-crunching time equations lie in the
simplicity of cold fall nights under the stars, and it took
me the dramatic end of a personal era to comprehend
that.
I’ve been told those who succeed are the ones
who think ahead, but I believe those who find happiness are the ones who live in the moment.
-Chad Berg
As I Am
I snap my eyes open. Pulling myself out of bed, I
“Oh shut up! Quit your whining and just do as I say.
wander over to the mirror on my wall. I wonder. Why
I’m the adult. Because of this, we’re not going to have
am I up at five thirty on a Tuesday during summer?
any money ‘cuz I gotta waste my paycheck on the
My father’s scream echoes throughout the house from medical bills for this dog.”
somewhere downstairs. What can be the problem? I
I wanted the blood to be his. She waits to die upon
pick up on the faint whisper of my dog yelping from
her fluffy pink bed, a purple bone design sewn onto
pain. I throw on athletic shorts and rush downstairs.
the top. Before my family got Spree she was found in
As I skid across
a field in Hastings, left to die. When the world
the wood
walks out on her, I’ll be there with Beggin’
“Her blood stains the patio as she Strips to comfort her. The attack was out of
floors, my eyes
carries herself into the house.”
swell with tears
my control, but not yours. You’re pathetic. You
as I see Spree
gave her up. It took more seconds for you to
lying, dead-like on the damp summer grass. My father look away, allowing the coyote to mark her as prey.
kicks her towards the house. Oh my God! What has
You sat by and let this happen. I will never forgive you
happened to her?
for this. The heated yelling between my father and me
Looking back on the matter, what can I expect?
arouses my sister. She tumbles down the stairs, each
All faith I had in him died as I witnessed the afterstep bringing her closer the truth: my father’s caremath of my dog being attacked by a coyote. Why is
lessness finally has repercussions. I see her face turn
it impossible for you to be compassionate? Why is it
from drowsiness to grief. Allison begins to scream, a
a challenge for you to act like you care? I cannot find
scream magnificent enough to chill the very soul of
compassion in your soul, just disappointment. I conthe Grim Reaper. She falls to Spree’s bed, crying. I
template the meaning behind your actions as Spree
remain fixated, gazing into the mudroom, grounding
staggers toward the house.
myself into the place I stand. Four steps would place
“Get insidem, you idiot. Let’s hope Mr. Coyote
me in the mudroom. Why can’t you take those four
doesn’t come back for seconds!” he chuckles.
steps? This was the closest confrontation with death
Her blood stains the patio as she carries herself
a nine year old girl should experience. Spree nips at
into the house. If you look closely you can see the
Allison, ignoring the gesture of comfort Allison means.
places where the blood landed. Why didn’t
“Allison, quit bayou help her? Why didn’t you help her! You
bying the dog. She’s
“I wanted the blood to be his.”
decided to watch my dog disappear into the
all cut up and you’ll
blackened mudroom, squat on her bed, and
get blood all over
cry as if she were begging to live. You’re the dead
yourself,” my father asserts.
one.
“Shut up! Just shut up! I’m going to stay right here.
“Neil, that dog got her blood on the wood floor. Can You’re going to have to drag me out of here to get me
you clean it up for me?” he wonders.
away from her!” she screams.
“Why can’t you do it? You’re the one who let her
“Oh Allison, she’s a dog. Please leave her alone.”
get attacked!” I lash out.
“Screw you; I’m going to get mom!”
2011
41
Allison and my mother rush down the stairs. My
into his face. I want to feel his jaw break; I wanted him
mother hurries into the mudroom to see Spree licking
to suffer like I did.
her wounds with care.
Later in the night, Spree starts to cry as the
“Oh Judy, don’t take her to the vet.
medicine
She’ll be fine. The coyote didn’t hurt
wears
“Misery would be a shallow river dragging
her that badly,” my father states.
off. My
me towards the mouth of an ocean of grief.” mother
“Jim, look at her! Look at the
condition she’s in! Allie, get your coat.
sleeps
We’ll be back. Neil, I’ll call you once we get the news
downstairs, on the couch, with Spree that night.
of her condition,” my mom forces out, tears running
Thank you. My mom’s inspiration and guidance is a
down her face.
beacon of light for the members of the family while
My mother rushes for her jacket after the brief
my father clings to asserting his parental dominance.
conversation with my father. A small pool of blood
I wish he were true to himself and quit showing anger
remains in the floor where Spree moped before enter- and fake happiness, the only emotions he seems to
ing her bed. I love you Spree; you’ll be alright. I stay
display. He should know how much I care for Spree.
behind. I sit on an empty chair, trapped in a lonely
Everyone in the family, but you, cherishes her. You
house. I couldn’t go; if she didn’t make it I couldn’t
only make her “yours” to dwell on the bad behavior
bear to see her body. Misery would be a shallow river
she occasionally exhibits and punish her for it.
dragging me towards the mouth of an ocean of grief.
This is parallel in our relationship. You think you
But she makes it. Not even a coyote can tackle the care, but I know you don’t. I don’t get the title “human”
six pounds of will inside her. She returns home from
because I’m a minor. You sit on your butt and look at
the vet looking worse. Drugged, her body spreads
me. See what you’ve made me. Take a stroll to the
across her bed. Plastered on her stomach is a cast.
mirror and see who deserves to be punished. Look
From the hind legs to the front legs stretches this
at what you’ve become and how it impacts me. The
monster preventing her from walking in a straight
instant things get hard, you bail. I yearn for the day
line. She doesn’t beg for food that night. I miss that
when you will understand the truth, the day when you
little face popping up from the ground, her front paws
stop pushing me away. It seems that day will never
scratching my
come. You
clothes to indefer what
“I want to feel his jaw break; I wanted him to suffer like I did.” you need to
form me she
is there. Surdiscover: the
rounded by family, dinner feels lonely. I eat my whole
pain I feel because of you. I grow impatient as I keep
quesadilla that night, sharing none with my little dog.
giving you second chances. The pain of disappoint“Look at that dog. She’s too lazy to even get up
ment discourages me. How many times can I believe
and drink some water. How you doing over there,
in a hopeless cause before I give up? I dwell on my
coyote bait?” he laughs.
grief as I wait for you to get a clue. You might enjoy
His words fuel my anger as if it were a hornet
long walks on the beach with Marlow, but I remain
trapped in a water bottle. Shaken to the core from
piled under the sand you two stroll over. What I witpast conflicts throughout the past couple years, I
nessed that Tuesday I will remember the rest of my
snap. The only thing I wanted to do was slam my fist
childhood. The memory will never fade, the feelings
42 Shadows
never weakening. The path is clear, obvious, apparneed to try starting the truck again. Nothing happens.
ent, observable, evident, whatever you wish to call it. I As you check under the hood, sunlight graces you.
try to believe in you and every time you let me down.
I wish I could have this feeling forever. It picks you
Spree healed. My Pomeranian has risen above
up; it raises you to the heavens. I’m coming, forgive
the fate that she met that Tuesday morning. Her scars me for my sins. Please Accept me. Light engulfs you.
have healed. For me, they remain present. I take
I’ve waited for this feeling my whole life. The pleasant
every damn word you say to heart. You better believe
feeling starts at your finger tips and begins to spread
it sucks. Your words mold me into a person I would
throughout your body. The worries of the world fade.
despise if I saw him on the streets. Hidden in my
You can onlly focus on the things you love, everyanger is the want for acceptance. Why do I struggle
thing dear to your heart. You feel goosebumps rise
to find your love? Why? I want to be good enough. I
on your skin as it moves its way through your arms.
want to say, without a doubt, I know you love me. But
The feeling reaches your heart. What? The feeling,
I cannot. I cannot feel
it’s disappearing. Why don’t I feel
the love within your
“If you could bottle up this feeling, you that feeling anymore? You feel
words. I feel all has
yourself fall, speeding towards
would. You’d open the lid to release
been done to an exthe Earth, smashing into the
the warmth on a rainy day.”
tent where even if you
ground. Paralyzed, you wake up
changed, I couldn’t
to the haunting sound of children
accept it. You gave me a plaque saying: The best mo- laughing. Their laughter recreates the feeling. You
ments are the ones you spend with the ones you love. follow the sound and find them. They’re playing in
For a while the plaque stood tall in my room. Now it
the middle of an intersection. Embracing them, you
remains face down on the floor. I’m lost; I don’t know
realize the feeling begins to strengthen. The sunlight
how I feel about you anymore.
comes back. Your eyes are closed but you can feel
As I lay my head down upon my plush pillow at
the light’s presence. Opening your eyes you see your
night, I dream about you. A stop sign stationed to
son has placed his favorite toy, his teddy bear, in your
the right of the lane as you approach in a rusty, 1993
arms. Behind the son you see a car speeding towards
Toyota. Glance outside. See the faded yellow lane dithe intersection. The car slams into you, waking you
vider. The lines follow the road gliding over its bumps
from the daydream. Stepping into the truck, you see
and curves. Weeds and dandelion spill over into the
your son’s teddy bear sitting in the passenger seat.
shoulder. You exit the truck, pick up a dandelion, and
He must have left it in the truck when I dropped him
blow the petals. Away they travel in a clumped group.
off at his mother’s. It smells just like him. Tears blur
Farewell. You get back into the truck, time to leave
your vision. You always loved him and he knew it. He
this behind. Stepping on the gas petal, nothing hapalways knew it. Everything got screwed up along the
pens. You exit the truck. As you step out, a beam of
way. I’m so sorry things are the way they are. You
sunlight hits you. If you could bottle up this feeling,
place the teddy bear in the passenger seat and buckle
you would. You’d open the lid to release the warmth
it in. You start the car one last time. The engine resists
on a rainy day. Snapping back to reality, you feel the
but eventually starts. It’s time to go.
-Neil Schneider
2011
43
Van Gogh’s Irises
44
Shadows
Garret Kornovich
Oil Pastel Drawing
FREE
from the
CHAINS
2011
1
Our Love
One look at you is what it takes for me to
fall in love all over again. Your smile
makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
It’s as if I’m discovering you, feeling love
for you for the first time. One kiss from you
is all it takes to remind me how special you
are to me, how right we are for each other.
One touch from you is all it takes to make
me forget the rest of the world…
Vase
To each their own.
One tries to escape,
to crawl away.
One waits eagerly for food.
One mopes, believing in his death.
One plans decorations
for the season.
One comforts the others, secretly depressed.
And the vase loves
the golden flowers
that brighten up her day.
Overjoyed to be here,
not alone.
-Maura Wesen
Winter
46
Shadows
Rachel Matuseski
Pencil Drawing
Troubles and cares seem to vanish when we
hold each other close. One night with you
and I feel indescribably happy, as though
I’ve been given one of the most precious
gifts life has to offer--to love and be loved
by you. Being with you, looking into your
eyes, holding your hand, touching your
cheek, is all it takes to convince me that
love was made just for us.
-Matt Pranke
Magic
So Long
Dreaming
It seems so simple and
Yet it plays with our minds like
A child with a new toy.
Winter is always slow to leave.
It lingers, and seeps in winds.
Through the cracks of my windows
and my doors.
We lay our heads down
On our soft pillow at night
Hoping for something
So wonderful and
Much like hurt.
It lingers, and seeps in winds.
Of pain, jealousy, and regret.
Through the crack of my blind eyes,
and the scabs of my heart.
Magical to wander
Into our world
Of imagination of
Which we cannot control.
But I hope for more.
To see a spring.
When the wind seeps in and it is
sweet and warm.
Much like hope.
It always stays in the core of my soul.
It never leaves me or fails me.
It seeps in winds of
love, joy, and peace.
The winter can only last so long.
-Cynthia Zapata
This is the beauty of
The unknown
The confusion
Of what is to come
And what has passed.
We do not know
We do not have the control
We do not fathom what will
Pop into our dreams
Each night
Yet we still ignore
The anxieties
That torment
And haunt us and yet
We still lay down each night
Satisfied with our life.
-Leah Reber
2011
47
Logan
48
Shadows
The day I found out
I would have a brother,
I went absolutely
Nuts.
Thinking of all the things
We could do together.
The sports, the movies,
He would be my partner in crime.
Finally someone to help me
Pick on my older sister,
Play catch.
Someone to hang out with.
I was the happiest,
The happiest boy in the world.
I couldn’t wait to meet Logan.
When my parents explained
Autism to me,
It truly was
The saddest day of my life.
He can’t play catch?
He can’t play video games?
He can’t walk?
He can’t even talk?
What is my brother good for?
What can we do together?
As I kept learning new things,
He stopped.
I didn’t get any attention anymore.
He got it.
He needed it,
All of it.
My brother isn’t a
Normal brother.
But listen here,
And listen good.
I have the best,
The best damn brother in the world.
I love him, he loves me,
And that’s what brothers are for.
-Luke Grothe
Amphigory
Anastasia Smith
Photograph
Chevy
Jackie Slovack
Charcoal Drawing
2011
49
Broken Dawn
Open minds
Broken hearts
Time to mend
Far too long
From dusk to dawn
And light to dark
Softly spoken…
With a broken jaw
Time is passing
From spring to fall
Withering spirits
Falling to earth
From the heavens
By singing angels
Words of praise
Not a prayer
From the heart
A wish indeed
I plant this seed…
50
Shadows
-Nick Foss
Rain
Falling
in drops
giant spheres
or cones
of water.
Causing mini floods
every second.
It satisfies the grass
the trees
the weeds
the flowers,
alike.
Bugs sleep
critters hide
children play
in dirty puddles filled with mud.
It rains.
-Maura Wesen
Serenity
Jordan Randall
Photograph
Newborn Day
As the night creeps to an end,
a newborn day has come again.
Creatures will rise from their peaceful slumber,
and go in search to conceal their hunger.
Amongst the clouds a hawk shall fly.
Fly through the sky, so high, so high.
Far down below a mouse scurries round,
running from any suspicious sound.
Out in the fields the bees do work,
searching the flowers where the pollen does lurk.
Watching the forest with a careful eye,
a doe protects fawn under the vast blue sky.
Later that day the animals return,
to their comfortable dens without a concern.
And as they curl up in their comfortable nest,
they’re visited with a most peaceful rest.
Now the day has crept to an end,
a newborn night has come again.
-Victoria Wotczak
2011
51
Hornbill Bird Under the Moon
Itzel Velez
Acrylic Painting
52
Shadows
SHADOWS STAFF
Editors-in-Chief
Bethany Mollman
Emily Nelson
Faculty Advisor
Dan Kirkham
Special Thanks
Kim Budde
Kim Dallas
Phil Stanley
2011
53
Policy
Colophon
Rosemount High School’s literary magazine, Shadows, is published in the Spring. Students are allowed
to submit up to seven pieces in each of the following
areas: photography, prose, poetry, non-fiction, and art.
The name of the writer or artist is removed from each
submission, so the text is then evaluated with anonymity. As well, the staff’s mission is to be as inclusive
as possible in text selection so that it embraces its diverse student body and its varying and emerging mind
sets. Editors make all final decisions, and the Shadows staff reserves the right to edit for spelling and/
or punctuation in all submissions. School funds and
magazine sales support the production of Shadows.
Production: iMac, InDesign CS3, Epson Perfection
4490, HP Scanjet N6310, Epson Expression 10000
XL. Cover and inside paper stock: Mohawk Krome
Kote C1F 12pt. white infusion; inner: Xerox Color
Expressions Elite 32lb. Font Selection: Text font is
Arial; title designs appear in Bernard MT Condensed,
Bickham Script Pro, Blackoak Std, Charcoal CY,
Charlemagne Std, Cooper Std, Cracked, Curlz MT,
Desdemona, Edwardian Script ITC, Giddyup Std, Gill
Sans Ultra Bold, Handwriting-Dakota, Harrington,
Herculanum, Hobo Std, JazzText, Lithos Pro, Lucida
Blackletter, Monaco, Monotype Corsiva, OCR A Std,
Onyx, Orator Std, Poplar Std, Skia, Tekton Pro, Trajan
Pro, Zapfino.
Recent Awards
2010: National Council of Teachers of English:
PRESLM Rank of Excellent
National Scholastic Press Association: Second Class
with Two marks of Distinction
2009: National Council of Teachers of English:
PRESLM Rank of Excellent
National Scholastic Press Association: First Class with
Two marks of Distinction
2008: National Scholastic Press Association: First
Class with Three Marks of Distinction
54
Shadows
Cornerstone Copy Center, Burnsville, MN
Print Run: 66 Copies