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AUTUMN IN BOTANICAL GARDENS
Stephanie Brice
Photography Major - 1st year
LOST EVERYTHING?
Bren Karki
Chemistry Major - 1st year
I still remember every sip of coffee and the words she shared to make the moment last a bit longer. I wished to stop time when she leaned towards me and gave me a watch. Her words, "Don’t miss me; keep me in your memories," are still legends in my dreams. I can recall how it felt driving her home—the warmth of her smile as she said, "We will meet soon." These moments are etched in my memories, and I wish I could stop the watch she gave me and rewind the time to savor the last moments with the best person I ever had in my life.
But what if –
the watch dies,
just like our love—
***
Things changed when she moved to a new place, far away from me. Her phone didn’t send me "Good Morning!" or "I hope you had a great day!" anymore. After a while, I also stopped wishing her "Good Morning!" or "I hope you had a great day!" I wasn’t sure how to deal with everything, but she seemed fine without me. I don’t know if she knew that I could see her posts. I could see her reply to comments on those posts. I could see the green dot next to her name every time I tried to call her. It felt like we stopped caring about who we were a few days ago, making it difficult to imagine who we could be in the future.
Every night–
Her memories sit
close to me.
***
Maybe I never fall in love with her; I fall in love with trust. The watch reminds me of all the pain I felt after I lost my trust. I could remember everything from the first day we met as strangers to the last day we left as strangers. She promised me time, but I now have to settle for the watch. It tickles me every time I try to put my trust in someone. The alarm on the watch reminds me of all
the nights I wondered why and all the nights after I found out why. But I learned to love myself because of the watch. I have started to embrace all the memories. Every time I feel the watch, I feel her presence, supporting me as she used to do. It reminds me of all the promises and dreams I need to live up to.
The love—
we waited for so long
was so close.
HOME
Meredith Schilsky
English Major - 3rd year
The voices in the walls
Echo stories untold
Of family unknown but not unloved
​
Concrete handprints
Hold the history that I will never know
But will always carry with me
​
Three generations
Lived and died here
I am number four
​
The voices in the walls
Tell of my heritage
And watch as my future unfolds
​
The peeling wallpaper
Shows the passage of time
And its replacement marks my new beginning
Three generations
Lived and died here
And now it is my home
10.26.20
Elena Wilson
Forensic Psychology Major - 4th year
BLOOD ORANGES
Amelia Kingman
English Major - 3rd year
After five weeks of near constant nausea, the toilet bowl by our bedroom has become my most trusted companion. One of my
best tricks I’ve perfected is my ability to hold my own hair back, every strand, and still have perfect aim. Since college, I have gone out of practice. I slowly feel my stomach hesitantly settle, but my hands shake, and stars pirouette in the corners of my vision. I close the toilet lid, rest my forehead on top of the frigid porcelain and close my eyes. Fuck, I’m tired. When the bathroom stops tilting, I slowly stand up, my knees shaking like a baby deer.
Looking at myself in the mirror is frightening. Deep hues of bruising violet and indigo have settled under my eyes, and red,
angry acne sprouts in pus-filled blossoms along my chin and forehead. I’ve been biting the inside of my left cheek so much that the acrid copper taste of blood is almost constantly on my tongue, and my cheek has started to swell. I’ve taken to putting my hair in a ponytail in a depressing attempt to hide how oily it is...it’s been days since I’ve showered. Cory’s extra-strength Old Spice antiperspirant, along with the toilet, has become a most appreciated friend this past week. I wash my hands and nearly swallow some mouthwash, my cheek stinging angrily from the alcohol. The pain makes my eyes water.
I hear the click of the front door as the bolt turns and Cory steps into the house. Instantly the dogs start scream-barking in
their frenzied excitement. I yell in a futile attempt to get their attention, but as always, it never works. I turn off the bathroom light and round the corner as Cory lumbers his way into the house, dropping grocery bags brimming with oranges, pasta, and the like onto the kitchen counter.
“How was work?” I ask as soon as the dogs substitute their yelling with persistent whines.
“Fine,” he says, setting his keys on the table and taking off his jacket. “We’re almost done with the Johnson project, just have
to wrap some things up with the deck and then it’s set. The next one is only a few miles up the road from us, which is nice. Makes the commute less of a bitch.”
“Mmm,” I answer, trying to listen but failing. He unlaces his boots, the dogs sniffing his hair and feet ravenously. He pets them
hello and begins unpacking the groceries.
“I hope I got the right ones,” Cory says, handing me the bag of oranges. “They didn’t have much.”
“Thank you, babe,” I smile at him in a way that I hope is gracious, trying to mask my disappointment. These are mandarins. I
wanted navel. I set the bag on the counter and begin looking for scissors. “I called the doctor this morning, can you come with me to my appointment?”
“When is it?”
“Wednesday, 9am. It shouldn’t take too long, Molly said hers was done in a little over an hour, but she was farther along. Since
it’s my first one it probably won’t be too involved.”
Cory starts unbagging boxes of pasta and cereal and putting them in the pantry. “I can’t, I have work.”
My heart sighs in disappointment. I can feel my palms and thighs getting sweaty. I don’t like to argue. “Can’t you take the
morning off? You were just talking about the vacation hours you got.”
“I can’t, Meg,” Cory raises his voice as he attempts to push frozen waffle boxes into our abused and overstuffed freezer. “Any
other day I could, but these clients are repeat customers and I need to make sure their project is done on deadline. Pissing them off would be bad. Plus, I’m trying to get back on the boss’s good side so they’ll consider me for the promotion. It’s kind of a big deal.”
“This is kind of a big deal.”
I don’t think he can hear me over the sound of rustling bags of frozen broccoli and peas. I cut open the bag of oranges more
than I intended, accidentally spilling them onto the counter. One falls to the floor so violently I know I’ve bruised it, and I gingerly begin putting them where they belong in the fruit bowl. Some of the oranges are molded at the bottom, dry, sad and screaming. I squint back petulant tears as I throw the rejected fruit into the trash and rummage through the fridge for a different snack. I substitute for the pomegranate seeds I bought the day before. I spoon them into my mouth, the juice dripping down my chin like blood while Cory throws away the empty grocery bags. He cracks a smile when he sees me and wipes the juice away with his thumb like a parent would with a child. My heart seizes.
“Please? I need you to be there.” I say.
He hesitates, and it hurts that he even has to think about it. I expect him to concede, but instead he asks, “Why are we even
going when we don’t know what we’re doing yet?”
I raise my eyebrows so high they feel like they’ve surpassed my hairline. “What do you mean, we don’t know what we’re doing
yet?”
His eyebrows mock my own and furrow so low his eyes seem to change shape. He looks like I’ve just told him I’ve grown a
third breast. “Well, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No, we don’t.”
“I do.”
His lips part in surprise, and at first he looks so angry I have to fight the urge to take a step back from him. But then his face
contorts, as if he’s about to cry. His eyes are apologetic and sad. “Meg, I love you, but we can’t keep it.”
“Yes, we can,” I say.
“In what world? Honey, today was the first day in a month I could afford to go grocery shopping properly. You ride your bike
to work in the snow because we don’t have a car. We’re buried in student debt. How could we possibly afford a baby?”
“My parents would help, I know they would,” I plead. My lower belly aches, as if the fetus is trying to back me up from under
the layers of muscle and skin.
“If we have to rely on your parents, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Cory says, “We need to be stable before we have kids. I want
a house, a savings account, anything. I know it sucks. Believe me, I want this just as much as you.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like you do,” I snap.
He grimaces like I’ve just slapped him, and my stomach sinks in instant regret.
“I’m sorry, I know you do,” I rest my forehead on his chest and exhale so deep I can feel myself wilt. “I know we’re not in a
good place, but I can’t imagine not having this baby. I just...I need to think.”
He kisses the top of my head and hugs me, whispering “I know” into my hair.
I place a tiny, tender kiss on his nose. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yep, I just have to pee.” He knows I’m lying, but doesn’t push the subject, just kisses my forehead, and lets me go.
In the bathroom, I brace my hands against either side of the sink and sob. I try to stay quiet because I don’t want Cory to hear
me and come in, and the thought of something, anything touching me makes my body coil in disgust. My hair sticks to my face and I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. My face is pomegranate red, my eyes puffy, drool stringing from my mouth onto the counter. God, how does anyone look beautiful when they cry?
I try to count to ten and take some deep breaths. How could he suggest we don’t keep the baby? How could he want this but
want to get rid of it? I don’t understand. My breath quakes as I steady myself. I really do have to pee.
I pull down my pants and sit on the toilet. I stare, holding my breath, at the blood smothering my thighs and the crotch of my
underwear. The inside of the toilet bowl turns a brilliant, billowing red instead of yellow. Before I can stop myself, I scream.
***
“They’re incredibly common,” the doctor says, trying to sound reassuring. “Especially first trimester ones like yours. Some
women don’t even know they’re having a miscarriage; they just think it’s a late period.”
I’m sitting on an exam table, a paper hospital gown draped over me like an unwashed pillowcase. I just want to go home. The
doctor has been talking at me for an inane amount of time. Cory is here, but I don’t think he’s retaining anything either. He just alternates between staring with heartbroken eyes at the doctor, and then staring at me in concern. I haven’t been able to look at him. Every time I do, he seems to be shrinking smaller and smaller into his chair, like melting cheese.
“Everything is looking fine now. You may continue to bleed for up to a week and have cramping, but that’s normal. Just stay
home and rest and things will go back to normal. Go to the emergency room immediately if the pain gets severe, or if you’re passing clots bigger than a golf ball or soaking an entire pad in less than an hour. Heavy bleeding like that isn’t good.”
I can hear Cory whimpering like a lost dog in the corner, as if the doctor is diagnosing him instead. I nod, hoping it’ll get her to
stop talking faster. Whatever she’s saying, I can Google it later. I try to focus on the mole she has on her chin to keep myself from crying. It reminds me of a large chocolate chip that someone super glued to her face. If I squint, I can almost make out a hair growing from its center. I want to dig my fingernails under its base and rip it off. She stands up, hands Cory my doctor’s note with a pitying glance, and says to call her if we have any questions. Neither Cory nor I move after she leaves. We simply sit, staring at the floor, listening to the vent in the ceiling whistle on and off.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for what I said in the kitchen yesterday. I don’t think I thought it was real, but now...” he trails off into
silence and wipes away tears.
I nod silently. I feel no pity for him. The hospital gown scratches at the back of my neck, and I have the fleeting urge to tear off
the covering and just walk out of the office naked. My dignity was flushed down the toilet ten hours ago with my future.
“Do you want to do something? Maybe get some ice cream?” he offers, probably trying to cheer me up.
“No.”
“Okay. I could get us takeout tonight, maybe Chinese? Or Mexican?”
“I don’t care.” I want him to shut up. I don’t know what would help. What could possibly help? If I still had my baby, that would
help.
Cory sighs, and I can’t tell if it’s from frustration with me or fatigue. I don’t know why he would be so exhausted, given that I
was the one hemorrhaging in an emergency room chair all night. He picks up my t-shirt and sweatpants from the floor and carefully folds them onto the chair next to him. He takes my hands in his and I flinch. They’re ice cold. Or are mine just hot?
“Come on, Megan. Let’s go home.”
***
Two hours later, I’m standing in the kitchen, trying to muster up the energy to take a shower. It’s not working, and I’m not sure I
care. I keep catching myself staring off into space, as if I’m trying to find the spirit of what was once mine. Cory left for Rite-Aid to get me pads and Gatorade about fifteen minutes ago, or maybe it was an hour ago. I don’t know. I feel hollow, as if my organs have been scooped out with a spoon, like the inside of a cantaloupe. Diarrhea has replaced Old Spice as my most intimate companion.
I read over the crumpled doctor’s note in my hand allowing me time off work, and the few words I remember the doctor
yapping play over each other in my head. Back to normal? What did she mean by things going back to normal? How could things ever go back to normal? What a bitch. I bet she never had a child die. I attempt to smooth out the note and hang it in the refrigerator door. I really don’t want to shower. I want to close my eyes and become one with the floor, the walls, blending in until my body bleeds into the plaster and wood and I disappear completely. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
Maybe it was the food I ate. I wasn’t getting enough nutrients. I don’t take my vitamins every day, that must’ve been it. I grab
the Vitamin C gummies from the top of the fridge and shove three into my mouth, trying not to gag. Maybe it was all the sugar, I eat a lot of sugar. I throw my pomegranate seeds into the trash, and my oranges follow suit. I dump the ice cream from the freezer down the sink and throw away the container. Cory will be mad when he finds out I threw away food. I wrestle the garbage bag out of the trash can and throw it into the laundry room. I’ll take it out later.
I’m sorry.
Maybe it’s because I don’t exercise. Babies need exercise. I’ll get a gym membership tomorrow, or maybe I’ll start running.
Yes, maybe I’ll take up running. I have to save money if I ever want a fucking baby. I don’t sleep enough. I drink wine on weekends. Drinking is not good for babies. I grab the bottles I keep in the cabinet above the stove, pour the contents down the drain and throw the bottles at the door. Glass scatters in glistening black shards across the room.
I’m sorry.
Maybe it heard Cory when he said we shouldn’t have it. She knew we couldn’t afford her. I grab fistfuls of my hair. Maybe I
could’ve worked from home so I could watch her during the day, or I could’ve picked up a night job. We wouldn’t have to pay for daycare that way. I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything. Hot tears have been dripping onto the floor. A baby would slip if I don’t dry them. She didn’t even have legs before I lost her. She’s gone. I lost her. What kind of woman loses a baby?
I’m so sorry.
My lungs knit together so they become one giant lung, inflating and crushing my ribcage. I’m in a panini press, being
compressed into molten, melting skin and tears. I’m a bug being squashed under a steel-toed boot. If I touch every part of my body to the floor, maybe I’ll sink into the ground and the Earth will bury me where I belong. With her.
When Cory finds me, I think he screams. There’s glass all over the floor. I’ve wrecked the kitchen. I think I left the refrigerator
door open. He drops a Rite-Aid bag and grabs my face. I think he’s asking me questions. His lips move, and he looks so concerned. No, not concerned. Scared? Yes, scared. His eyes are all big, like a cartoon character. His voice is muffled, like I’m underwater. I have to concentrate through teary eyes to make out what he’s saying. I love you, he seems to say, it’ll be okay.
I don’t think it will.
BAT
Jude Alvarado
Physical Therapy Major - 3rd year
A VINYL RECORD
Lydia Porter
Accounting Major - 4th year
A siren’s hypnotic song–
Its waves
soar through the air,
Compressed into a flat disk
The puddled oil spill:
Viscous slick–
A Black Mamba conquering prey
With a delicate,
rhythmic
dance
A Gothic Carousel–
Crooning
its song,
Echoing throughout
those
Inky
Black
canyons–
How gently! she cradles
the disc of her soul!
the Fragile Horcrux–
a Slice of artistry,
a Slice of the artist
As the eyes are the window to the soul,
It is the pupil
of a musician.
THE PORCELAIN ANGEL
Christian Roldan
Graphic Design Major- 2nd year
ANTIGUO FAROL
Dr. Mariana Pensa
Professor of Spanish
DREAM NEST
Dana Levin
Distinguished Writer-in-Residence
More like a basket
of twig and hair,
surprisingly
tall
and deep—
in a tree
outside my bedroom
window.
I knew
something lived in there
you wouldn’t assume
lived in a nest.
Then I knew:
a human lived there.
And once I knew—
the nest, nearly
disintegrated,
still in the tree.
It wasn’t about trauma, the perfect
and then the broken
nest
in which a human
lived—
Born and lit and broken
comes I.
THE CLEARING
Justin Palmer
Sociology Major- 3rd year
Hammock Park, a highlight of the town of Spring Hill. Twelve acres of woods containing narrow trails and a large circular
clearing in the center. In the center was a playground with a large field surrounding it. During the day, the park was filled with all sorts of people; families bringing their small children for a day out in the sun or community club-sports teams holding soccer practice.
Though, no one ever took it upon themselves to take a step onto the hiking trails. Anyone who went to that park knew not to
take that risk. The winding paths with dead-ends and sharp turns were too intimidating to its visitors.
The park was different at night. Joint-smoking and bonfires were the main events, hosting groups of high school teens and
young college dropouts. It was a “secret spot” for them to do things they swore to their parents they would never do. But even they knew not to go onto the trails. They especially knew that if you were to take one small step onto those trails at night, you’d be screwed.
***
My friends and I go to the park often. Their reasons for going include a rendezvous with the neighborhood drug-dealer. Pot is
his main seller, but he has other options for those who are eager for a stronger effect. LSD, MDMA, Oxy, you name it. He has it all. The guy is swimming in cash, upselling to the idiot teenagers who will pay fifty bucks for a single tab of acid. My friends are some of those idiots.
It’s Friday night when we return.
“Is he almost here?” Henry poses the question, patiently waiting for the dealer to arrive.
“Will you stop asking that? He said he’ll be here in a couple minutes.” TJ responds, already annoyed by his constant
questioning.
“What are you guys getting this time anyway? You tryna chill out or lay in the grass for the next 8 hours screaming at flying
bunnies?” I’m tired of doing this. Every Friday is the same. We drive thirty minutes from home so I can babysit the two idiots and keep them out of trouble. I mean, if this is going to continue to be a trend, I would rather do it someplace else, definitely not in the middle of the woods with a bunch of stoned teens. Plus, this park isn’t the most comforting place in the world.
“Listen Benny, I promise I will not get too carried away this time. Just a little bud, then we’ll go home. I promise.” TJ said that
every Friday.
“Fine. Whatever. I just gotta get back home, last time I was late for curfew my mom almost kicked my ass.” We all laugh at the
image, considering my mother is two feet shorter than I am and is also only 90 pounds.
There is a group huddling around the playground, some laying on the slides and others sitting on the upper level where the
slide begins. Another group gathers by a make-shift fire pit, one they dug a few weeks ago. They begin to toss branches, twigs, teared or ripped rolling papers that were deemed unusable, or pretty much anything that would catch a flame, into the pit hoping it would sustain a fire. It takes a few minutes for them to get it started. When it is finally lit, they gather around, unfold their patio chairs, and sink in.
After a few moments of quick bantering, a man wearing dark jeans and a hoodie comes into the distant view. He takes the
backpack off his shoulders and swings it over the fence, then follows right behind.
“Finally! God, I feel like we’ve been waiting here forever.” Henry is relieved but is still anxiously toying with the necklace his
father gave him.
“Bro, be cool. Just let me do the talkin’ okay?” TJ is usually the one to handle these transactions. Henry tends to be awkward
and tries to make small talk. Last time, this guy suspected Henry to be a narc. Not the most fun interaction.
“Hey man, how ya doin’?” The man does not respond, but instead sets his backpack down, unzips it open, and pulls out a
dime bag with a few pills inside. TJ’s eyebrows raise in concern.
“Oh, hey man, I’m sorry, just the bud tonight.”
“You sure? Just got this in, some next-level shit I hear,” he speaks. His voice is haunting and very persuasive. A convincing
salesman.
“Eh, I don’t think so, but thanks, I’ll uh, keep that in mind for next time.”
“There won’t be a next time, bro. This is the last of it. If you want it, you got to get it now man.”
The three of us look at one another for a few moments. TJ looks curious, with a wistful grin. Personally, that’s a bad trip
waiting to happen. I pull TJ aside and attempt to convince him not to buy it. Henry waits awkwardly in the middle, hands held behind his back.
“TJ, c’mon you said you weren’t gonna do this shit again?”
“He said it’s the last of it! C’mon, you really don’t wanna try it?”
“No, I really don’t. And I sure as hell do not want to drag your ass over that damn fence again! Do you know how hard it was
last time?”
“Benny, I promise it will be fine.”
I do not respond, but instead, glare at him in disappointment and hesitation.
TJ looks at me, releases a quick puff of air and says, “Fuck it, I don’t have to ask for permission.” He trades the 100 dollars in
cash for the three pills and 2 grams of pot, something that should have only cost 60 dollars, but at this point I’m not very happy with TJ, so I’ll let him pay for it.
The man puts the cash in a small pouch, tosses it in his pack, and walks towards the gate. Before he can get there, Henry has
his rolling tray and papers ready, preparing for TJ to roll his master joints. After a few minutes, the joints are rolled, and we pass it around for a few minutes, each of us taking two puffs, and then passing it along. Then, the question is asked.
“So, you wanna try it?”
“I don’t know, man, it’s getting late, and I got work in the morning,” I respond.
“I’ll try it if you do?” Henry says with hesitation.
TJ takes back the joint, places it between his lips, and tears open the dime bag. He takes out all three pills and lays them out
on his hand. He moves his hand from side to side, hoping to tempt us with this favor. Henry grabs one and immediately swallows and sticks out his tongue, proving his commitment.
“No more time to decide. Just take the damn thing, Benny! I just took it, and you don’t wanna make me go through it alone
do you? Plus, I can’t go home now, so that slide over there will be where I sleep tonight,” he chuckles.
TJ takes the pill next, and then, with a potent glare, he offers me the final slab.
“You don’t want to keep Molly waiting, do you?” I could kill him right now. A moment passes before I take the pill from his
hand.
“God, please don’t make me regret this.”
I roll my eyes and turn around for a few moments, rub my hands down my face and sigh. I glance at my watch, 11:37 pm.
Almost passed my curfew. My mom’s going to kill me. I look back up to see the light from the bonfire reflecting off the trees in the distance. Shades of red and orange coat the dark green foliage of the trees, a sweet treat for the eyes.
A trail entrance is perfectly framed in the light, and I am able to see just a few feet further inside. As I focus my stare, I feel this
urge to look even closer. It’s as if something is pulling my attention. The glare of the fire blazes for a moment, revealing something in the darkness. A shape. Something, or someone, just standing there. The light of the fire grows once again, and for half a second, reveals something even more horrifying. The fire grows quiet, and within seconds, the clearing is soaked in darkness.
***
It’s getting late, and the crowd diminishes. The area becomes silent. Only the sound of crickets and the wind can be heard.
The full moon shines above us, leaving just enough light to see a couple feet in front of us.
The three of us, now sitting at the table under the pavilion, are rummaging through a backpack someone had just left behind
Inside is a flashlight, a couple lighters, lighter fluid, a pack of Marlboro’s, and of course, a pre-rolled joint. TJ takes it out of the bag, and lights it. We sit there, still waiting for the effects to kick in.
“Whoever left this was an idiot. I mean how can you forget this!” TJ begins.
“Oh, so they’re the idiots. Last time I checked, we are the ones who decided to ditch our curfew and stay in a park in the
middle of nowhere overnight. Pretty idiotic if you ask me.”
“Oh, c’mon Ben, what about having adventures and being stupid and enjoying our youth? Aren’t you the one who’s always
complaining about how boring your life is? I thought you wanted to get out and have adventures and experience life for once!”
“You call this an adventure? Because to me, this seems like a death trap.”
“Okay, if you’re going to complain all night, why don’t you just go home?”
Henry, who is keeling his head into his arms, looks up at me with the look of minor regret. I pause for a moment, and I
remember the nights where I trap myself in my room, always wanting a thrill but never actually seeking it out. I tighten the strings on my hoodie. It’s getting cold.
“Fine. You know what, fine. We’ll stay. But if we die tonight, I will be blaming you.”
“That is why I bring my trusty little blade with me. I promise, no one is dying tonight. I’ll protect us.”
He pulls out a small blade from his pocket and waves it in my face. I laugh way too hard at that one. His father gave him that
blade a few years ago for his birthday. I don’t know why you would give your 15 year-old child a weapon like that, but who am I to say anything.
“Let’s see if we can start another fire. I do not feel like freezing tonight,” Henry says, a little relieved knowing that I’m here to
keep them company, which, to be honest, I’m not sure how my presence is comforting, since I’m usually the calm and collected babysitter, and now I’m starting to feel this uncontrollable urge to run around the empty field.
“Yes! Let’s start a fire!” TJ stands, energized and fully awake.
We walk over to the fire pit and gather anything flammable along the way. TJ, with the joint still in between his lips, pours
some fluid over the sticks and twigs and lights it. Flames rise from the ashes, once again lighting up our surroundings.
“You guys wanna tell a story or somethin’?” Henry loves a good campfire story, although this time, I wouldn’t really consider it
camping. Camping is usually more fun than this.
“I think that is a fantastic idea. TJ, since you’re such a compelling storyteller, why don’t you go first?”
Henry sits criss-cross on the ground, waving his hands over the fire back and forth, feeling the heightened sensation in his
hands.
“Alrighty, fine. I’ll go first. Once upon a time, three stupid boys went into the woods at night...”
“Ah okay, I see what your doin’ here.”
“Shh. Don’t interrupt. I haven’t gotten to the good part yet. Once upon a time, three very stupid boys go on an adventure
into the dark and scary woods of Hammock Park. All they wanted to do was have some fun, smoke some weed, maybe pop a couple of pills. But their evening did not go as planned. Even though the three boys were tough and fearless, the darkness of the woods was too much for them to bear. The boys had heard things about this place. Dark things. Things you think would scare them shitless and prevent them from ever going there in the first place. But despite the stories they heard about this place, they went anyway.”
Henry, pupils growing wider than the moon above us, is rocking back and forth, believing every word to be true. Maybe Henry
was catching onto something there. TJ continues.
“It was about two hours into their night when things went sideways. Unknown to the boys, something was lurking in the trees
around them. Screams and cries were heard in the distance. Sounds of a beast feasting on his prey. This frightened the boys, and they considered leaving once they knew the sounds weren’t in their heads from all the drugs they took. The boys stood up quickly, and speed walked towards the exit. As the boys were leaving, the fire they lit behind them burned out, and they were left in complete darkness. Not even the shape of their hands were visible. How were they going to climb the gate in the dark like that? And in a matter of seconds, a big, ferocious beast came racing out of the woods! The monster jumped onto one of the boys and he started to scream bloody murder, and he was torn limb from limb. The beast slurped his human flesh straight off the bones, leaving nothing but a few scraps of unfavorable skin behind. But the beast was still hungry for more. The remaining boys tried to blindly climb the gate, but it was too late. They were pulled back down, and the beast feasted on their cold hearts and dragged them back into the woods! The only one who knows what happened is the beast itself. Their bodies were never found, and some still think that they are still in these woods, buried beneath the rotten soil being consumed by worms and maggots.”
Damn, TJ sure knows how to scare Henry, because now he stands and paces back and forth.
“Alrighty TJ that’s enough scary-talk for one night,” I say, trying to alleviate the tension.
“Oh god, Henry, don’t be such a bitch. It’s just a story.”
“A story. Just a story. Just a story. Just a…” Henry is tripping balls now.
“Goddammit TJ, you broke him! Nice job.”
“Are you serious! He asked for it.”
“You seriously have no sympathy, do you? Your little brother, who shouldn’t even be out here in the first place, is now scared
out of his mind.”
“I’m 16,” Henry interrupts.
“That’s little enough.”
“Oh my god. Fine, if you want to leave so bad, then go. No one is stopping you.”
I consider my options, and you know what, I don’t own him shit. He can watch Henry and see how it feels to be the
responsible one this time.
“Fine. I’m leaving.” I grab the flashlight in the backpack and pull it out. Now I’m starting to feel something. My heart begins
to race, and my hands grow restless. I can see waves of purple and blue in the air, likely caused by the poison in my body. Sparkles of light dance around me. Though what I think should be a good experience, I’m not feeling so good. I grow frantic, wanting to leave as soon as possible so I can go home and lay in my warm bed.
Without saying anything, I jog to the gate, and after about thirty steps, something changes.
The reflecting light of the blaze ahead of me fades out. There are no more sparkles, no more waves of purple and blue. In
fact, there is no light at all. The flashlight in my hand begins to flicker, and then completely shuts off. I turn around to complete darkness, my eyes growing wide in concern. The crickets stop chattering and the wind stops blowing. A few moments of silence pass, and a deep, taunting laugh can be heard, echoing out into the clearing. I stand completely still, unsure of what I just heard ahead of me. I beat the flashlight until it’s revived.The immediate glare of the light shines bright onto TJ, sprinting towards me, pupils as big as the sun.
“Run, Benny!” TJ is screaming with absolute fear, his body trembling and sweat dripping down his face.
“Where’s Henry?!” I don’t know if he can hear my shaking voice.
Another scream comes from the distance. It’s Henry. A scream so loud and so agonizing it could shatter a glass window.
“Henry!” I shout his name in intense worry. The screaming continues, and TJ drags me toward the gate.
Unable to see what’s in front of us, TJ’s foot lands into a small pothole, causing the both of us to hit the ground forcefully.
The screams continue.
“HENRY!” I’m struggling to stand back up. TJ grunts and quickly rises. As he begins to run for the exit, I grab his arm and tug
him back.
The screaming stops.
“TJ, what the hell happened?”
“It just came out of nowhere!”
“What did?”
“I don’t know!”
“TJ, take a breath, you’re buggin’ out. Just tell me what you just saw.”
“Benny, I have no fucking idea! Stop asking and let’s get the hell out of here!”
“So, what, we’re just going to leave your brother behind to die?”
I shine the light directly on his face. I have never seen him wear the look of fear before. It’s frightening.
“I don’t know! Benny, please I can’t go back.”
Feelings of fear, anger, and despair rush over me all at once. Without hesitation, and without a word being said, I turn around
and run toward the blazing embers. When I arrive, all that is left is the backpack and an old necklace. The necklace, with no owner. Henry was gone.
***
“Henry! Henry!” We call out his name for roughly five minutes. No response.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” TJ is spiraling. “I killed him, Benny, I killed him, I know I did.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I left him. I just ran away! I didn’t even try to save him. What was I thinking! I’m so stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” He begins to hit
himself out of frustration.
“TJ, stop! Just calm down, we’re gonna find him, okay?” Although there are a million things I could say to him in this moment
to prove that he’s wrong, it’s best I avoid that argument.
We call his name one more time. No answer. TJ, now crying on the ground, is giving up. I shine my flashlight around the
clearing, hoping that the battery isn’t about to burn out. I read my watch, 3:48 am. Time has passed far too quickly. That guy was right, this shit is next level.
I sway my light back and forth, scanning the border between the trees and the clearing. Once again, my sight is directed
towards a certain familiar trail entrance. The one that had caught my attention a few hours ago. Only this time, the light is barely reaching through. It is like I’m staring into a blackhole.
Another scream comes from that direction.
“Henry!” For some reason, at this moment, after what has happened so far, I feel invincible. I sprint towards the entrance, and
TJ who has gathered up the strength to stand up again, follows behind.
We reach the entrance.
I was told to never hike through these trails. Stories like the one TJ told earlier all tell the same tale. A creature, lurking in the
forest hunting for its next meal, capturing innocent children who come too close to the monsters’ territory. An urban legend. Something that would scare me as a child, but I now know it’s likely a story just to keep the kids from getting lost in the woods.
Another yawp. TJ begins to panic.
“I’m not going in there!”
“Why not? We just heard him, he’s still alive out there!”
“Benny, I’m sorry I just can’t do it.”
“Fine, do what you want. But I’m going to find him.” It shocks me how unmotivated TJ is, considering that the lost boy in the
woods is his brother. But a part of me can understand, especially after smoking two joints and combining it with something stronger.
I take my first step onto the trail. From what I can see, it’s a straight path, seemingly leading to nothing. The trees are odd
looking. Their branches are contorted and intertwined with one another, pulsing with a continuous beat. A heavy mist begins to rise, further troubling my ability to see ahead of me.
I push forward, still shouting his name. Still, no answer. For a second, I’m starting to think that they’re playing a cruel joke on
me.
I pick up the pace. The silence is haunting me. My quick pace turns into a jog. I would much rather be home right now. After a
few minutes of traveling, I stop to catch my breath. I place my hand on the tree next to me, leaning over, feeling like I might hurl at any second. I can feel something on my hand. I look up, pointing my flashlight.
The eyes of a cottonmouth come into view. It hisses and glares, revealing its intensely sharp fangs. I back up slowly, stumbling
over a log, and falling to the ground. The snake grows longer as it slithers toward me, trying to hypnotize me with its triangular forehead. I can’t stand back up. If I move, it might shoot for the kill. Looking to my right, another is approaching, and to my left, another. The snakes, crawling into my sleeves and wrapping around my arms.
I call out for help, very hesitantly. “TJ!”
All three have made their way onto my body. One, wrapping itself around my right leg. I can feel them all over me. The scaly,
slimy creatures are about to feast on my blood, and there is nothing I can do. I am trapped, held hostage by ropes of snakes pinning me down onto the ground.
Another hiss, the creature about to unclench its jaws and inject its poison into my bloodstream. And there it is. The bite. The
unbearable pain from its venomous wrath causes me to scream. My eyes shut tight, and my heart begins to race. I am helpless, powerless, with the complete absence of control. I hear something, though. Footsteps.
TJ grabs me by the arms and pulls me up. The pain, gone, but the fear, still very much alive. Frantically brushing my body, I
find not a single snake on my body or a mark to prove it.
“Benny! I’m here, it’s okay!”
I still can’t stop screaming. TJ takes my hand, and we begin to move.
We make our way through the trail, not paying much attention to which corners we are turning on. We call out for Henry, but
this time, a response.
Finally.
A sense of relief rolls over me. We call again, trying to determine where his voice is coming from.
TJ and I continue on and come to another clearing, one that we didn’t know existed. In this clearing is a small shed. He must
be in there.
We approach the building, still struggling to see. TJ’s first reaction is to bang on the door as hard as he can, forcing it to swing
open. He walks inside, and I follow behind. A bulb hangs from the ceiling and attached was a pull-switch to signal it on. Finally, some light. This is the kind of room where you would imagine people get held hostage and murdered. Shackles hang low on the walls, and a single wooden chair sits in the corner. On the floor is a trap door. Beside it, a wooden table with sharp blades, already covered in blood. It’s thick, and undried. Probably new. I grab a sharp blade off the surface, ponder over what it may have been used for, and slide it into my pants pocket, carefully.
“What the fuck is this place?” TJ asks.
“I don’t know, but Henry has to be around here, right?”
I glance at my watch. 6:28 am. The sun is beginning to rise. The dark color of the night is beginning to clear, and our senses
come back. Looking out the window, I can see Henry, lying on the ground, covered in his own blood. We rush out the door to his rescue. I bend down and investigate his body for any wounds. There it is. A large, deep cut, right down the middle of his torso.
Before trying to lift him up and carry him to safety, someone steps out of the shed, probably coming from the trap door in the
floor. They are tall, with facial features too deformed to know who it is. But something about this doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like I am looking at a person. It feels ... inhuman. Demonic. Something with a soul darker than the dead of night. Something lifeless.
It does not speak. It does not move. It stands very still, not a single eye blink or hand twitch.
TJ and I, now standing, come face to face with this creature, and even from 20 feet away, you could feel its chilling aroma. It’s
when It rushes towards us with ferocious speed that we thought we should run.
Though, It is too fast.
It leaps and straddles onto TJ, causing him to fall directly onto his back. The creature reaches for a blade. Before it can grab a
weapon, I tackle the creature, and we roll a few feet to the right.
I am on top of It now, holding It’s neck down with blunt force. I swiftly grab the blade out of my pocket.
The first few strikes are aimed for the chest. The next two, for the stomach. A dark liquid comes gushing from the body. It’s
cold and greasy and emits the most disgusting stench I could ever smell. The creature laughs, as if stabbing it was humorous.
I am uncontrollable. Unstoppable. The intense anger in my chest will not let me hold back. I continue to puncture its body
until the laughs are no more. Whatever life that was left inside it was definitely gone by now.
I finish it off by performing one final strike, leaving the blade in the chest. I roll over, and I see the sun in the corner of my eye,
slowly rising above the treetops.
***
I lay there for a few moments, contemplating over what I have just done, and release my tension through one last roar.
I look to my right, and I see TJ, lying on the chilled grass. The creature, gone. Nowhere in sight.
I look at my arm, and the color red soaks my sleeves. I sit up. I pause. I look ahead of me. No shed. Just a pavilion with a table
beneath it. The fire pit next to it, now just dried ash. I stand in the same clearing I did just 8 hours ago. I grip the handle of the blade tightly.
Two lifeless bodies lay before me. My friends with stab wounds spread across their chests and stomachs.
The necklace, still on Henry’s neck.
TJ’s blade, no longer in his pocket, but rather in my hand.
Finally coming down from a relentless trip, I kneel down on both my knees and drop the blade onto the ground.
What have I done?
My watch, reading 7:30 am. The shrieking sound of the entry gates open, and visitors from the town of Spring Hill come
rushing in.