POETRY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Chris TOLLO
PROSE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
PHILIP ROGERS
ART EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
GRIFFIN BEACOM
COMMUNICATIONS CHIEF
CHARLES PETRO
MAGAZINE DESIGN BY Gavin Balanay
MODERATOR AARON MENZEL
MAGIS
In the spirit of Magis - meaning “more”- we welcomed the art of students from neighboring Catholic high schools. For in this collaborative tapestry, we discover the true essence of a global literary community one where creativity knows no borders, and the written word becomes a vessel for shared human experience.
The River Listens
Peter Nelson ‘29
You now enter a world where everything you wish is yours, and reality fades to create the perfection we can never have
A world where all that has been is nonexistent and never before seen Your demented fantasies have come alive while the blood trickles down her soft, silky skin. Is everybody gathered in?
Children, be warned! The river contains an unknown and unearthly substance that should not be touched or tampered with But go down to the river, and the river will listen.
Don’t you dare be naive or give in to temptation. You will give in.
Jay Coughlin ‘28 My Island and I
I open the windows in the same energy of the long day sigh.
I sit on the couch and ponder my day.
I bottle whatever emotions arrive.
I look for an album only to end up listening to the same one as always.
I look at the cover only to find a person who is a victim of time.
I look at the back and hum the melody of the twelve or so tracks, deciding whether or not to listen to the whole thing.
I take the album out of the old dusty cover and let a release of old record store smell into the air.
I could either gag or relish in the smell of memory.
I take the yellowed paper covering the vinyl out and gaze over the glistening black color reflecting the light.
I put it on the record player and gently drag the needle over before flicking a lever to drop it down on top of the vinyl.
I adjust the volume to one that drowns out my thoughts and frees any worry I may have.
I sit down in the middle seat of my 3 cushion couch and hear songs of love, flowers, and friendship.
I hum the words as I watch the orange sky turn black, and the music hits my soul. Time passes differently when I do this, only to be released in the 5 seconds of silence between songs.
This silence, then, is faded by the first melody striking in a different fashion than the last.
I’ve heard every word on the album, but I still find something new every time I listen. After a while, I flip the record like the opening of a tomb, uncovering a song forgotten by most people.
I listen to each word in the remaining 6 songs to roll off the tongue, no matter the situation.
These deep cuts heal any worries I may have.
As the album draws to a slow close in the chapter of a favorite artist's life, I come to find whatever I was worried about before is gone.
Embers Over the Plains
Oliver Wong ‘27
Charles Petro ‘27
I broke the ocean of silence I held all summer I swam in a sea of connections, yet I was intensely alone As we schooled for our final walk, I visited my mind I looked to leave what held me back, but would this change me? We swam away from the breakfast table Those I knew disappeared behind the current. We went through colorful foliage dotting the floor. The sun flared over the cliff as an old brick building arose. We gathered around the entrance; someone opened the door, and I went in.
Julian Zotoglo ‘29
Music is used as a vessel for self-expression
Music is made for one and all
Music is the ambivalence and the fidelity of people
Music can be used as a double-edged sword
Music can be used to convey simple or complex messages
Music can be used to embrace culture or express solidarity
Music can help the well-being of people
Music can help heal the souls of those who are lost
Music can help to be used as guidance to a path that was never seen before
Music as a whole is righteous
Music as a whole is egregious
Music as a whole is our society
Music, Made for all, Used by all, Loved by all
Mick Moyer ‘29
Oliver Hogan ‘27
From the sunrise to the sunset,
I hope and pray with no regrets
But I fear what might happen next. Will the darkness fall, and the hour call?
Or will I awake and relive it all?
We all go through life, day by day, one second, one minute, one year in all
We cherish the moments that are near to our hearts, and we hope to forget the moments that happened in the dark.
The most beautiful moments seem to happen in the light
And the light always follows the sunrise
So then why do we always run from the light?
Is it the light that we fear?
The fear of something good?
The fear of being more?
The fear of the sunrise?
Because with that sunrise comes a day of surprise
Is it the not knowing that we fear?
Henry Owen ‘27
What is it that we truly fear?
Who is it that we fear?
Where do these fears come from?
And why do we fear it?
And still I say No more to fear.
Walk with fear because fear cannot overcome you if you recognize it, and say to it: No more.
I am not afraid of you.
You are, and will be, afraid of me. Because nothing can stop me
So watch out, because the day might be anew, but so am I.
And that’s why it’s a surprise.
I am a surprise.
Be the surprise.
Be the sunrise
The perpetual darkness lurks at the edge of light, drawing closer with every passing moment. Its grip tightens around your fears, like a noose around your neck, turning them into reality, exposing every flaw for all to see. Bodies crumble. Wills fade. Now, the choice is yours: remain in the grip of darkness, or rise above it and bask in the light
Darkness
Keylan Comer ‘27
Leo Kelly ‘27
Lost in Translation. Shot on 35mm
Break My Own Wishbone
I’ve got my way out but I keep it in my mouth in my breath and in my lungs
I’ve got heaven in the back of my throat but my words are stuck under my tongue.
I wouldn’t be so alone
If I could break my own wishbone. I just want to feel less alone I just want to feel less alone.
I’ve got hell at the cusp of my lips and it fills up and spills out
I should build a dam inside of my mouth to catch my words before they flood out.
I wouldn’t be so alone
If I could break my own wishbone.
I just want to feel less alone I just want to feel less alone.
Solomon Smith ‘26
Liam Clark ‘27 Two Chairs
You Can Be That You
Michael Sledge‘27
I miss when sleeping was the worst part of the day I miss the days when homework didn't matter, I miss when our parents made us go to bed at 9, when we got yelled at for watching TV and not for messing up on tests or homework, I miss my friends, I miss when everyone was friends, I miss thinking Santa was real, I miss family night every Friday, I miss things that don't miss me back, I miss how you used to hold me, I miss when you used to keep me more alive than I am now, I miss when you were the only one there, I want to make you proud, I want to make the world proud of me, I miss going on family road trips and the fights that we would get in, I miss the friendships that I have built, I miss when I didn't get the meal plan because you were here, I miss when people would be there for us, and not just for when you passed away, I miss taking you for granted every day and now I don't take anything for granted because of you, but what I miss most of all is YOU
Even though we may look back on these events, and regret parts of our past lives, it is about who we become, and what we can achieve, by lifting one another up YOU can be that YOU for someone without even knowing it (We can still give love and meaning to others as that person we miss once did for us)
A queen preoccupies herself with matters of court
Only when it is necessary for her plans
Her plans that is remain a mystery
She must use her gifts to break limits
A queen does not particularly preoccupy herself with the matters of peasants
Does one know why that is?
No.
One cannot fathom why she would abandon the concerns
Of her subjects.
No one but her majesty knows and understands
A queen’s wish is to fulfill her mind’s desire
All the queen wants is to be free of her shackles, her binds
Free from what she has been subjected to for years
Free from the fear of heartbreak and responsibility
Free from all that controls her and dulls her being
No power in or out of any realm,
No form of conversation,
No form of meditation or prayer,
Nor any form of freedom given not of her perception, Can release her
A queen’s freedom can only be found in the depths of her heart
Where inspiration knows no bounds
Where all she yearns for waits to be set free,
To soar
Chris Tollo ‘27 Queen
Likewise, should you
Be like a queen
Who concerns herself with matters of court when it serves her benefit
Who is not concerned with the matters of peasants
Who wishes to break the shackles that bind her Then, You. Will. Rise.
Higher than before will you rise
You will be so free that freedom will not be known
You will look back at what used to restrain you
You will look back on what deterred you from fulfilling
Your heart and mind’s deepest desire
So rise!
Spread those wings and soar!
Fly closer to the sun than possible!
It might feel impossible
But impossible happens every day
If you fall,
No one will catch you,
Or support your recovery
But then again,
A queen does not concern herself with the matters of peasants.
The Joyful Tiger PlushWas once lonely and helpless, Until I adopted it. It smelled like a beautiful red tulip, blooming on a sunny day. Its fur felt like a blanket, as I ran my hand through its skin. As I snuggled and cuddled with my Tiger, I felt a sense of comfort This comfort was like a baby swaddled up in its crib
The Joyful Tiger PlushOnce lonely and helpless, is now comforted and loved It is no longer sitting in a toy bin, It is now in its forever home. Always loved, Always, And Always, Loved.
The Joyful Tiger Plush
Blake Gocken ‘27
Rihan Rihan ‘27
An Innate Inclination
Patrick Grindey (Faculty)
Oh the longing
The ache
The pain
The desire for we know not what
Trees…no, a cedar tree
Like our soul
When broken down, cut, sawed in half,
Torn apart
The cedar tree suffers
Opens itself up for something new
A response
A Letting go
Surrender
The tree is cut
The deep fibers of our soul are awakened
Caused only by suffering
This ache
This pain
Leads to longing
A desire for we know not what
Enkindled by an inclination
Have we seen this before
One must recognize a predisposition
Something innate
The seed becomes absorbed by the soil
It uproots itself
Giving it direction…meaning
Dare I say purpose identity
Watch out world
Plato’s prisoners have left the cave
The seed has been planted
From one they call love
Oh the great tragedy it is
The unmasking of oneself
To recognize
To discover his own identity
More ache
More pain
Deeper longing
An eagerness to respond
The seed, a soul as we know it
Is uprooting itself
The discovery of the innate inclination
A desire for we know not what
Liam Clark ‘27
Snow Looks Different in the Nighttime
Snow Looks Different in the Dark
When people think of snow, do they really stop and think?
With all the things going on in the world, it’s all so meek,
With the wars, the battles, and even the fights, nobody really stops to think,
But there’s one thing that's certain: when I shut my eyes, all I can do is think,
About what the snow looks like in countries so far from mine, I can’t even hear the screams,
Of war because without warning these countries are turning to sleet,
Of course, I’m talking about snow, nothing else, nothing more, but I truly do believe,
That the snow looks different in the darkness, or was it just all a dream?
A little notion made in my brain to stop the pain of the thoughts of war and fights,
The ones separating families from their kin and the kin from their parents,
See, the thing about snow is that it lights up the sky when the moon reflects off of it,
Or when the sun dries it up it all just disappears like when the last boom of war finally clears,
Again, I am talking about snow, nothing else, nothing more
But when the snow dries, where does thy go, Like when the soldier loses his partner, or a kin loses parent, Does it all just dry up when the sun comes out?
You know, they always say, Snow always looks different in the dark
Liam Clark ‘27
TBen Hardy ‘29
Claire Czyz ‘26, Mercy High School The Millipede
It crawls across the foliage, Its many legs graze the rubble
With each rhythmic wave and appendage
How haunting is this supple one?
So foreign, intricate, and absurd!
I struggle to see the monster
As a soul gone and suffered
I am more concerned
Of my purity and humanity,
Which is of course prime superiority,
To a creature from antiquity.
The way it skitters, burrows, and forages
Among the plant matter all decayed,
Leaves me faint and ill
And while left to my dismay,
A burst of wrath leans me closer to the kill
And to whom it may concern,
My vision is not construed!
For the slightest sign
Of proof of my benighted mind, Is not a reality of mine.
So beneath my feet it’s fate lies
The obscene and visceral
Beckoning of its blood now satisfies
My fear of the unknown
*In response to what society deems threatening and the vilification of harmless things.
Tarman
Solomon Smith ‘26
Blacked out on the pavement, I can‘t see the way the light bends or what he meant when his steel trap clamped to the curb at a dead end. Revealing the bends and dents you can’t mend. I can’t see far When my eyes bleed tar So I keep them shut while I crash my car. And now the sheet metal will bend and the rusted ends will cut deep through my skin. While I’m buried in the mess of a life that won’t end
Anna Kate Verdoni ‘26, Mercy High School Vestigium
BEGINNING
I follow a track I trace the path of the stars. I stand at the forefront of the night’s prestige, Here, in the iridescence of Orion’s arrow, Whose tip scatters stardust in my wake, Trailing golden flecks across the sky.
BEHIND,
My footprints chart horizons, Burning lanterns of the night, Stitching together the constellations, With finite dust of silver beauty–The aureate veil that man cannot transcend, The muse of celestial dreamers
BENEATH
A sleepless people gaze upon The golden cascades of my voyage, With wonderment in their starry eyes, Charting patterns in the cosmos. My footprints remain aloft for them, In routine, midnight comfort.
BEYOND,
Hush, an unknown sky beckons me. A blinded people call in void, With faces of misery and inky eyes, No illumination of my starry night. Here, I stand at the edge of this prestige, One breathless step, and I fall from the heavens.
BEHOLD,
I am gone from this universe. Orion, cast thy arrow and send me forth! The uncharted calls to be tracked, By footprints gathered in stardust To forge the path for a better tomorrow My vestigium of stars
Every day, I wake up blessed to see God. Some days are the best days of my life, filled with the people I love, moments I know I’ll cherish forever And other days are challenging But, the good days taste sweet. They’re good because you don’t overanalyze them. You don’t ask why they’re good. You just accept them. Maybe that’s what God is teaching us, to rely on Him fully Through thick and thin. On the good and bad days. So even on the days when my heart feels so tired I think it might break, I choose to say,
“But God, You have a plan for me And I trust you.”
Drawing me closer to the Kingdom I will one day call Heaven. So every day, When I feel like I’m struggling, I say,
“But God, You are the One I trust I trust in Your plan.” And so I SMILE.
Henry Jeffreys ‘28
Macbeth
and Banquo Confront
the Wierd Sisters
But God, I Smile
King Maxwell ‘27
Futures told under clot-black skies, The witches make their call.
The Thane’s mighty steed hesitates in fear, Matching the future king’s heart
His best friend lies witness to crimes yet committed, And ignorance takes hold.
On the field of a battle now won, Three Wïerd sisters wage another, Its desolate fields foretell the future they predict A tar-wrought thought now brews in the doublethane’s mind, His cherry-red cape betrays his decision.
Colton Rains ‘27
There the mountains sit
Gazing down upon the land
watching the gentle stream flow below
But the heavens split the clouds!
And the motherly sunshine radiates
It's beautiful warmth
Down to the valley where the pale sunlight breaks through storming clouds
Yet there the sons of man sit upon a hill
To lift their prayers to the heavens
“Oh Lord grant me guidance and mercy”
”For I know not what comes ahead”
And there the mighty Macbeth stands pleading to the radiant and merciful Lord
Unknowing of the fate the heavens hide
Daniel Gleason ‘28
The Valley
of Unseen Fate
The sky opens up, and elegance and grace permeate the air
For some foggy reason, heaven is revealing itself to the world
The morality of onlookers galore can’t comprehend
The waves crash like symbols, and the ocean and sky swirl in a dark, melodious unison
Peering through the darkness of not just the sky, but perhaps humanity
Light bursts through clouds
Maybe not as a way of vision, but a way of life
Soldiers try to pierce the sky, yet they can’t
Light’s illustrious glow illuminates human goodness
A path is brought forward, one that leads to eternal happiness
Abysmal dark conjures up our world
However, the truth found in light always prevails
The Conception
Landry Brandl ‘28
Ladu Loala ‘27
I stood there brewing my conniving intention
I look not at the witches
But into my own sinister mind
My eyes are begging for more power
But at what cost?
The witches have taken notice
They see through my empty eyes
They know what I am plotting
The cauldron emits a glow under our chins
The smoke fills the air with tension
As I ponder the repercussions
I was once a noble warrior
Now I have torn myself apart, hence my yearning
I must move past these bleak and deathly desires
The Idea
Kinnick Peyton ‘28
Julian Zotoglo ‘29 Snowy Alps
The Weight of the Knife
Petrified, he stood wielding two blood stained, silver daggers clutching the wall in shock blinded in his eyes by guilt and shame from the action he and his daggers of two have committed As the rain pours, he has been shell-shocked from causing his king's blood to be splattered onto his knife. He is overwhelmed by his guilt and cannot walk. Although he may be declared king, he cannot escape the shell shock and weight of his guilt that he and his two silver daggers have caused.
At the foothills of Heaven or Hell, Two friends stand, Knights of today, kings of tomorrow Unknowing and unnerved, Beneath these Mountains of Clouds. On the edge of the sea, Looking up and looking out, Looking forward and never being satisfied. Two men judged unprovoked, To be and to have kings
Under Heaven but not Above Hell
Wyatt Pisarik ‘28
Luke Eichele ‘29
Peace Within Darkness
Anxiousness Between Your Thoughts
Chaos fills the atmosphere of instability
The arid ground beneath the stallion's hooves, deceit crawls through the legs of the three. The cool breeze flows through your bones almost as if you can see your future before you. Nothing is right in the eyes of man, yet it feels coherent.
Apprehension is in the wind, crawling on you like spiders on a hot summer day Betwixt and between if this is advantageous.
Gargoyles.
Frozen still, Watching me suffer the pain of regret.
Piercing eyes, Burning a hole straight through me.
Arms outstretched, Collectively drawing all the attention to me. Fingers pointing, Accusing me of the most ambitious murder.
Thane of Cawdor,
The name they gave me, putting me up to this act, which they now blame me for
Nicholas Bottger ‘26
Evan Olechoski ‘28 Gargoyles
Queen of Purloined Potency
Jayden Amouzou ‘28
The golden crown in conceited hands, Emerald drapes drawn across her pale shoulders.
Hands lifted high like shielding from a torturous sun.
Braids of lengthy fiery hair speckled with gold like a river of fire and lava.
A ravenous avarice never sated, An untamed gluttony for more.
Bolstered against consequences, Stalwart in her goal
Wife of death’s advocate, Queen of stolen glory
A crown usurped from its owner
Leaf-O-Lantern
Max Jungers ‘27
Thomas Rhine ‘28 Betrayal of the Once Friend
This ambitious fool has acted unforgivably
Because of his actions, not even God will absolve him of his sins
His ruby hair whipping around as he flees
The cloak he wore broadly in tatters, now used for hiding
The leather on his boots won’t let him run fast enough to escape the consequences
There’s panic written on his face like a declaration of war
His hand sought the support of the castle wall that no longer welcomes him
In the grasp of the other lays two steels of death
Gone with the polish they once bore, now replaced with the sheen of the life essence of the once friend
Ambition has driven him to this point, and it will drag him back down with it.
Inner Chaos
Caden Burton ‘28
I stare petrified by my own actions
The tools of my malevolent works in my own hand
What ghastly choices have I made to be surrounded by this chaos
My head races my breath hastens my heart stops
The world tumbles into disarray mocking my hammering thoughts I reach for something anything to ground me to slow me to ease me
But there is nothing to grasp
Destroyed Dreams
Sawyer Helton ‘26
At halftime of my first-ever football game, as I walked to the sideline, I felt like I was on top of the world. Everyone has dreams of being a starting quarterback at any level, and I was living my dream. I walked eagerly to the sideline with anticipation of what adjustments the coaches would make. When my coach approached me with a look of dismay on his face, everything came crashing down around me. He informed me that they were going to take a different approach in the second half, and I would be benched. I felt so let down at that moment. My whole family had come to watch me play, just for me to be benched after a mediocre first start. It’s crazy just how fast you can feel on the top of the world and in one defining moment, for everything to topple over. My dreams had been crushed in twenty minutes, and I felt more defeated than I ever had in my entire life. Liam Clark ‘27
Crosses
From Athens’ cliffs he turned his gaze away,
The shouts of gods still ringing in his ears.
For once he strove with Pallas, wise and fair,
To win a city worthy of his name;
But olive triumphed over briny wave, And laughter followed where his trident fell.
Then roamed he westward, weary of the strife, Through seas already claimed by other powers
By Phoebus’ light, by Hera’s shining isle,
By smold’ring fires of Etna’s mighty forge.
Each coast was marked, each mountain given name;
None left for him but endless wind and foam
Yet in his heart no envy lingered long; He sought no more to rival Zeus or men.
“Enough,” he said, “if I may build a home
Where sons may honor what their father shaped.”
Poseidon spied an island to the west
Apart from other lands and undisturbed.
For people had not settled yet the fields
Or felled the mighty forests for their fuel.
But in the center of the island whole
And looking out to sea there was a plain
The fairest and most fertile of them all,
And in the center yet there was a hill
A half a hundred stad’a to the sea.
The hill with gentle slopes on ev’ry side
Was once a fitting home for family
Of Evanor and noble Leucippe
Along with young and only daughter theirs
Whose beauty now did high Poseidon glimpse,
His godly form obscured by foaming waves.
On fam’ly land the maiden worked alone,
Attending to the chores that needed done
Jacob Scheele (Faculty) Poseidon & Cleito
Poseidon watched her toil near the sea
And saw how womanly her features were:
Her eyes were blue and piercing like a chill
Which blows from northern lands on winter wind;
But gentle were her lips and rosy cheeks,
Which would, he thought, form such a smile fair
So as to leave a pain in mem’ry past.
And wide were hips of hers for bearing child
Though not a man had she to call her own.
Twas then Poseidon made himself a vow
That mortal woman she with godly glow
Would be his sole companion in the world
If this would be a land to make his own.
Approach did he, obscuring godly form
When maiden fair did stop attending work
To crouch and sift the soft and sandy Twas habit
hers to toss a stone or shell
Which caught her eye into the foaming surf.
For Evanor, he loving father, had
So long ago explained: to practice this
Is offering a solemn prayer to sea,
The only force which can’t by men be tamed.
So Cleito found a stone both flat and smooth
And brought it baked by sun to bosom hers.
She delved into her heart to find the words
To offer up a prayer that might be heard,
Then whispered to the stone a tearful plea.
“O hear me, swift and thund’ring sea of old, Who blessed the thirsty land with verdant life, And grant to me an answer to this prayer
So many moons have passed I’ve lost their count
Since mother mine and father both have gone Together to the darkened gates below.
And I for all this time have been alone
With no one else to speak or warm a bed.
This island, once a blessing for us three, Is nothing now but vibrant fertile tomb,
,
And also those of peaceful Leucippe
And soon will know their daughter Cleito’s too.
Unless you send to me companion fair
To set at ease my heart with longing filled
And make of me a wife and mother both.”
With tears she sealed her prayer and offered forth
The stone to crashing waves with such a throw
She tumbled to her knees in supple sand
And wailed aloud while tearing at her hair while holding firm a hand to empty womb.
Display did she grief indescribable;
A loneliness of body, soul, and mind.
Poseidon felt the need to seek the stone
And ordered sea to bring a current forth
Which caught the offering as fast it sank
And twisted it into his open palm.
And thus Poseidon spoke to humble stone,
Requesting all the points of Cleito’s plea
For crashing waves obscured the words of her.
And thus the stone did answer to the god,
Recounting all the words of Cleito’s pain.
Poseidon’s heart did rise then fall again
For such a lovely girl did long for him,
But grieved was he to see her in distress
He hadn’t care for settling down a race
Or making men to sacrifice to him;
Poseidon now cared only for the girl
And wanted nothing more than t’ ease her pain.
So with the stone in hand he did approach,
His godly figured covered in a mist
So as to frighten not the weary girl
The god appeared to her a mortal man,
Yet waded through the shallows skillfully
So unbeguiled by murky moving depths.
The lady Cleito noticed not the man
Who’d lumbered onto shore from open sea
For such was grieving’s pow’r o’re her mind.
And there in conjured rags Poseidon stood
Just far enough away to hear her cries
Which moved his godly heart then all the more.
The beauty of her soul did speak to him
Through even anguished, lonesome, tearful cries.
When Cleito fin’ly raised her reddened eyes,
But numb did she appear to manly sight
For eyes do work their trick on those who hope,
And those who knew of loss don’t dream to hope.
“Have come you now to mock a daughter’s pain?
Or even worse, a mother ne’er to be?
How low do specters sink to stir such strife?
What sin did I commit to earn this lot
That now a shade should haunt my final days?
Be gone, O phantom, let me mourn in peace.
For ready to depart this world am I
To see my mother’s smile yet again,
To hold my father close and feel his touch.”
She spoke and trembled at her weakened voice
Which sounded as belonging to the dead.
And she who’d wept could weep not any more.
Then answered he with deep and booming voice
Which so resounded over crashing sea
“No ghost am I, nor wraith of mortal man,
But one who heard thy pleas to foaming sea.
Thy strong lament has struck into my heart
And now the god you called upon has come
To answer thus your one and only prayer.
Tis I, the father of the storming tide,
Who rules the waves and all that sinks below
Tis I whom sailors call upon in fear
And I who drive their rudder and their sail
To guide them home or off to distant lands.
Fear not, my precious maiden, I am real.
Deny me not nor what I promise thee
Until thy hand would know a god’s own form.
And awe, not terror gripped her beating heart
As grief and wonder warred within her breast.
Then Cleito, fair yet burdened, answered thus:
“If truly you are he then tell me now
What plan or means you have to grant me peace?
My island here is far for merchant ships
For none have dared to brave the awful squall.
If you, in all your godly mercy would
See fit to send afield a vessel manned
Then please – I beg you – stay it ere it’s done!
For bear it not could I to be the cause
Of suffering for any other man.
I’d rather reunite with parents mine
Beneath the arching sun or empty earth.”
“I’ve not come hither that thy beauty die, Nor turned a lover’s ship to meet with thee. For loveliness and grief have taken me And wish do I to make of thee a wife.”
Through lapping tide Poseidon then drew near And knelt beside her on the supple sand. As trembling doves at last to shelter fly, So Cleito nestled close and feared no more.
The sky and waves grew soft as if to see With hushed delight did nature stand and watch And know a god had bound his heart to man
Earth Through Jake’s Eyes
Jude Hasiak ‘29
Jake had been living all alone on Earth for quite some time. It was the year 4073, and all of humanity had deserted Earth. Because of this, the planet was practically uninhabitable, with scorching hot days throughout the year and everything in sight withering, but Jake didn’t mind. He felt as if someone was watching him as he walked. The previous day, Jake had seen strange lights coming from the sky, descending down to Earth. As he walked into an expansive, lifeless Costco that was on its last leg, he gathered materials to find out what was after him. Suddenly, the same red holographic light swept through the store. “Of course,” Jake thought. “Costco didn’t have doors in the front during daytime, and it all went down during the day.” Jake thought of that day when people frantically evacuated Earth as if the sky was falling. It all felt like a dream to him now, life was so different back then. He couldn’t make out what it was as he hid in the electronics area that was filled to the brim with items, just as it was two thousand years ago. The light took a sharp turn and headed straight for him. Jake was deathly afraid it would reach him when it suddenly stopped, turned, and left the store, exclaiming, “No life forms detected.” Jake quickly stocked up on cameras, lights, drones, and anything he felt would be helpful in his quest to stay alive. He left the store that day, not knowing how much time was left.
When Jake awoke that next morning and looked out his window, he saw a copious amount of the same red lights scanning the city. Jake realized immediately what was happening. His isolated, yet peaceful time on Earth was about to end, and he had to escape. Flying his car, barely off the ground of the dead metropolis, he looked to the sky. It was no longer the singed orange he had grown accustomed to. Instead, silver saucers lined the skies, completely blocking the universe beyond Earth That posed a question for him: How was he going to escape Earth, and if he managed to do so, how would he escape without disturbing the invaders? Jake decided he would have his best chance to escape by waiting out the invasion as long as he could This would allow him to develop a plan on how to backdoor the invaders and escape without being noticed Part of this plan would include setting up drone systems over the city to monitor the invaders while he waited in a nearby bunker.
The first wave had started, and saucers descended to the Earth like cats and dogs. To Jake’s dismay, there was no shortage of Earth’s new inhabitants. In fact, Jake had underestimated just how much there was. The only option was to wait longer and continue to survey. Or so he thought. Another problem quickly arose: one by one, the cameras fell victim to the perpetrators. Jake’s plan was starting to slip, and with no way of keeping tabs on the invaders, he suddenly feared time was running out. He realized it was now or never, do or die.
The area surrounding the bunker appeared to be silent and unconquered, so Jake made a run for it. He arrived at his flying car, and prepared it for takeoff. “If I make it to space,” Jake thought, “Then I can rendezvous with the other humans now living on Mars or the Moon.”
As Jake ascended to the air, he had a new vantage point of Earth and its new inhabitants. There were so many of them. Jake had never seen anything like them in his life. Tall, sophisticated, skinny creatures who didn’t look friendly or hostile but certainly threatened his future. They stood out as an extremely intelligent species. While in the sky, he saw no way of getting past the millions of saucers that barricaded his exit Jake didn’t want to mess with the aliens and find out if they were hostile But he didn’t have a choice He was going to have to do something
Magic Richard ‘27
Donald Nimneh ‘27
Zac Krause ‘27
The Last Event
Henry Hasenjager ‘29
“Runners to your marks… Get set…,” BAM! The gun made me jump a little, but I was off in a dead sprint. All of the warming up led up to this moment. I had been training for the last 4 years to be in shape for this event. I have come a long way since I was in 5th grade. “I need to make this my best race ever,” is what I thought to myself. I was running next to seven different 400-meter runners. We were all competing against each other, in the top heat out of five, with all of the best runners in the state. I have run with a few of the other runners, but most of them are from different schools, so I haven’t seen their talent before.
I kept a quick, steady pace as I hooked around the curve I zipped past the edge of the track where it met the long straightaway As I neared the straightaway, I was in last, so I had to crank up my speed a notch I didn’t want to come all of this way to place last I started my sprint for the straightaway, passing another runner or two, as we all sprinted like our lives depended on it. As I passed the runner in front of me, taking my spot in 6th place, I started to approach the next curve of the track. My coach and teammates were on the sideline running beside me, cheering my name and pushing me to go faster.
I could feel my lungs ache inside me, and my deep breaths wheezed after every breath. My legs were so sore I couldn't even feel them. I tried to keep my pace as best as I could, but I could feel my body’s energy slowly depleting like my phone’s battery. I am getting closer and closer to the curve, as I remembered my coach telling me this is where I had to start to speed it up as much as I could. This is where I went all in.
I slowly approached the runner in front of me; we were neck and neck for almost the whole curve, until I finally passed him. I scouted out my next victim, hoping to pass them, until I saw the next runner in front of me. He had a solid 10 meters on me. I knew I had to push myself past the limit here. I was in 5th place. My coaches and teammates were still running alongside me, cheering me on. I tuned them out, focusing only on the finish line and the runner ahead.
I passed the second curve on the track, with about 100 meters left, with my whole body in pain, although I didn’t even think about it. “From here it’s just a mental game,” I thought to myself, as I started my dead sprint. I ran like something was trying to hurt me, chasing me. I sprinted as fast as I have ever sprinted before. I looked at the giant scoreboard, perched at the end of the track, that showed the runners and their places. I glanced at the time, 33, 34, 35. I suddenly realized that I had a chance to break the school record.
I started the straightaway with determination and sprinted, closer and closer to the finish line. I knew that my family, my coaches, and my teammates were all cheering for me to push myself. I sprinted like my life depended on it, all the way towards the end of the track. The gap between me and the runner in 4th was closing. As I darted towards the finish line, I could taste the freedom of finishing and then relaxing for the rest of the weekend. I could feel it resting upon the end of the straightaway.
As there was little to no gap left between me and the other runner, we had only about 75 meters left of the track. It was neck and neck. While he was competing for placement, I was competing with myself and my own time We had both trained all year for this event The finish line was getting closer: 50m, 45m, 40m, 35m I was exhausted I couldn’t feel any part of my body, and I was physically spent I had to finish I could still hear my team cheering for me As the final stretch of the race was showing itself, I dug deep to find any sort of energy I had left We were running right next to each other for the last 60 meters, until he started slowing down, so I used it to pass him. I was right in front of him, but he was still close. I knew I had to keep my pace to stay in 4th place.
There was very little left of the race, with about 10 meters left. We were taking our last steps, and as we both finished. It seemed as if we both crossed the line at the same time. It could be called either way, me beating him by a fraction, or the other way around. We didn’t know who beat the other; it was that close. I shook the hands of the other runners to show good sportsmanship, and as I was doing that, I took another peek at the scoreboard. It read, “Henry Hasenjager : 4th.”
I felt glad, accomplished, and even a bit proud because I got to stand on the podium with the top five runners. We also all got medals. As I was congratulating the other runners, my coach came over to me with a big, guilty smile on his face, like he was a toddler who had just done something he shouldn’t have. He came over to tell me the good news. He told me that I got the school record.
Will Coughlin ‘26
Oliver Hogan ‘27
Prominence of Rising Storm
Joe Krovance ‘28
Lo and behold the promised prominence of man! So short in stature, meaning, importance, and they hide amongst the mountains they carve, leading side by side the enscriptured men, inscripted on them death. The lightning storms and the mountains brew and the cliffs fall and crumble to nothing but dust, as heels drag to promised land, armies fall and cities rise, and so and so the world continues! It brews itself like the tempestuous storm overhead, Mother Nature enveloping, cascading into her own binary of red rock, storm and waterly-way breeze.
(Poem based off of the work of John Martin “Macbeth, 1820”.)
A Night of Strife
Sullivan Livingston ‘27
The man dashed with blazing speed through the streets of Providence, Rhode Island, ending this wretched journey with a vengeful sprint It had been almost a week since his precious daughter was taken from him. He still remembers those piercing red eyes and hunger-panged face. Skin as pale as the man in the moon’s and teeth with a dagger’s edge. It’s now or never, he thought. If there was any chance of getting his daughter back, he must seize this moment.
The past week of planning and studying the malevolent one’s movements and actions was to be fulfilled at this moment. He had caught the beast lurking on Rowan Street. He chased it from Chalkstone Ave to Home, where he pretended to lose it. It had made its haven there by the library. It was disgustingly close to his own home. Maybe that’s why he was the unfortunate target of one of its nightly prowls. He had tried to contact the authorities, but it was of no use. According to them, nobody lived in that house. It was currently under the ownership of one of those large real estate companies, likely in a bureaucratic limbo until it could be put up for sale. This thing was not meant to be here. This thing hid itself in the darkness. This thing had his daughter.
No matter, he could not think about what could have been, only what would be. The trap was laid, and now he was leading that beast to its doom. He reveled in the victory of the painful shout emerging from the house. Slowly and carefully, he made his way towards the house, knife in hand. There he saw it: the hunger-panged frame, the pale skin, the razored teeth, and those haunting red eyes. It was writhing in agony on its back as its blood began to spread along the floor. The man looked upon it with utmost anathema. This thing had taken everything from him. He would show it no ounce of pity or love. It was no longer deserving of such generosity. It was nothing more than dirt to him. At least the dirt could provide food; this abomination couldn’t even do that for him.
“Mercy! Please!” it cried out in its agony.
“Mercy? You take my only beloved, and you expect mercy from me?” the man bit back.
“You’re her sire, aren’t you?” The creature said with a rising tone of joy.
“I’m her father.”
The creature, between laughter, said, “I wish only that I could see the aftermath of this! Oh, the joy it would bring my unmoving heart!”
“What did you do to her?” the man spoke with acrid rage. The creature’s only response was laughter.
“Where is she?” Laughter, once more, was all that filled the silence. The man, consumed by his rage that he could no longer hold back, plunged his knife deep into the chest of the monster. Hellfire erupted from the body of the beast, damning it into the deep darkness of Hades. His hands would now be forever unwashed, stained with blood. Even though it may not have been entirely human, it still thought. It probably still felt. Thinking of what the fatal blow could have felt like made his skin crawl. However, the man was not here for the monster’s end; he was here for his daughter.
The man walked through the house, eventually reaching the staircase. The basement was neither large nor very clean, but there she was. His beloved lay there amongst it all. He called her name, and she turned. She looked at him with relief. She looked at him with piercing and haunting red eyes. Skin pale as the moon. A frame panged with hunger. Teeth as sharp as a razor. The man stood there, frozen by cold reality. His beloved was of the same cloth as the one he had slain just moments before. Questions raged through him. In all the time he spent watching the creature’s movement, it had only ever consumed blood. Would his daughter be forsaken to the same unholy diet? Would the blood of animals suffice? Could he kill an animal for her? Was that any different from his actions moments before? He had never seen the creature leave in the daylight; would his daughter suffer the same isolation? Questions such as these were a tempest in his mind. The hurricane of despair clouded his eyes as much as his mind
“Am I going to be okay?” The question was posed by his daughter, now standing right in front of him
“Yes, of course you are my love,” He said softly. That’s right, it was his daughter. Together, they had survived countless obstacles before, and this would be no different. He would sooner let all of his life be drained than let his daughter die. He might have to keep her away or even announce her death to the authorities, but she would keep living. They would find a way. Right now, he could only focus on getting her back home.
It was about 2:00 a.m. when they arrived back on Lawn Street. He had led her inside the house and put her to rest properly. It was the first time in a week since she had been shown such kindness and care. She cried, and he cried as well. It was a cry of pure relief. Later, he would test her with the sun, but first she would enjoy the most restful sleep. He would enjoy the same pleasure that night as well; his mind was finally able to rest easy knowing that his daughter was safe in his arms yet again, and the creature of the night was vanquished once and for all.
Magic Richard ‘27
Conor Moran ‘27
Lying Monsters
Mick Moyer ‘29
“There are many types of monsters in this world: monsters who will not show themselves and who cause trouble, monsters who abduct children, monsters who devour dreams, monsters who suck blood… and monsters who always tell lies.”
(Tsugumi Ohba, 2003, Volume 2, Page 116)
In this world, monsters are prevalent creatures. Whether they are human, an unknown creature, or a placeholder for a greater evil, they are very much real For me, the worst kind of monsters are the lying ones. Nothing is more important than the truth. Unfortunately, information is much too malleable to stay as the truth. It is up to us to keep it true; however, that will not always happen. People are influenced by these monsters, whether those monsters are human or not is irrelevant. The lies these monsters spread cause more harm in our world than any other force Every unfortunate event in this world could be prevented if lies were not a thing Everyone has seen and been touched by the monsters. These monsters stay in power and keep their influence by the things they provide for our world and community. The things they provide are lies.
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies
Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies Lies, Lies, Lies, Lies.
H u d s o n H e c k e n l i v e l y ‘ 2 7
Jackson Kelly ‘27
The Battle of the Wall
Philip Rogers ‘27
Balearis perked its head up as it listened to the sounds of battle being carried by the wind. “Easy,” Aurilla said softly. She stood next to its massive head; the body of the dragon was so large it crushed the trees around it. It had scales black as pitch and piercing red eyes. Smoke bellowed out from the furnace, burning within it with every breath. Aurilla patted its muzzle. Her black armor matched the scales of her dragon. They had been waiting in those trees for almost two days as the siege labored over the hill beyond.
Aurilla’s sister had hoped to make landfall farther north, but a storm had brought her armies south of the great wall that divided the continent. Aurilla remembered the months of planning, the maps they had bought from passing sailors of the new continent to their East. After the storm, they had to draft a new plan, and she hoped it was going well.
Movement beyond the trees caught her eye. She climbed up the large, winged arm of Balearis and up its neck. She stood on its head and called for it to lift her. Above the trees, she could see the summit of the hill beyond. A large banner was being erected. It depicted two dragons, a white and a black, circling each other over a red background.
It was the signal.
The army had retreated to safety away from the wall. Their plan had worked; no doubt by now the kingdoms of the continent would see them as weak. How little they know. Aurilla climbed down the neck of the great beast and into the harness on its back. “Fly, Balearis!” she commanded as she pulled upwards on the reins tied around the beast. Slowly, the dragon stood and stretched, unfurled its wings and knocked over more trees. A shadow passed over them.
Aurilla’s sister was already flying on Vekheidir, her dragon. It was half the size of Balearis and had gleaming white scales, but its fire burned twice as hot. Her sister sat up proudly on the back of Vekheidir. Her armor gleamed a pale silver. Balearis flapped its great wings and lunged, sending a gale of wind throughout the forest around him as he took off.
The wind blew against Aurilla’s face as she bent down low in her harness. Her long, wavy hair was a flurry behind her. In a matter of minutes, they had flown over their army stationed on the hill. Before them, the stone wall stood undamaged by their laughable attempt at a siege. Aurilla could hear the cheers of her army as they passed over. Vekheidir broke off its path, flying around in a circle to follow Balearis Aurilla pulled on another set of reins, signaling her dragon to descend Her stomach somersaulted as Balearis dipped down
The wall below was divided by a large iron gate with a tower on each side. It approached them rapidly as they dove. “Fire, Balearis!” Aurilla shouted over the whistling of the wind. Orange and red erupted from the mouth of the great beast as its winged arms slammed into each tower, knocking them down The stone buckled, cracked, and the iron gate melted under the blaze of the dragon fire The men stationed to guard the wall broke their defense and ran They reminded Aurilla of ants She pulled tight on the reins, and Balearis flew upwards She turned him around in time to see Vekheidir’s assault on the wall Its snow-white fire carved into the stone, bringing the wall down and the remains of the towers with it. Vekheidir made another pass at the wall, then another. Again and again it swooped down and burned another chunk out of the wall until only cracked, blackened boulders and ash were left.
It was dusk by the time the fires settled enough for their army to cross into the northern half of the continent. The two dragons led the way as the columns of soldiers streamed through. Even in the dimming light, Aurilla could see the white flags hung from the castle a few miles ahead. She tugged on the reins, and Balearis flew forward towards the castle. She landed in front of the gate of the castle. Vekheidir remained in the sky, circling.
The gate opened, and a trembling man walked out. He was thin and tall, with salt-andpepper hair. A small golden crown hung on his head. “Are you the Lord of this keep?” she asked him. He nodded his head. “You will bend the knee to my sister,” she gestured to the dragon circling above them, “Queen Veina, first of her name, or your keep and kingdom will face the same fate as your wall and army. You have until midnight to make your decision.” The sun was dipping below the horizon to the west of them.
“I don’t need until midnight,” the Lord said. For a moment he stood there defiant, holding his head high. He glanced upwards then at Balearis. Its red eyes stared unblinking, boring into him. He shivered. “My castle and lands are yours.” He bowed his head, removing his crown before slowly bending the knee. Aurilla looked up to her sister, she was circling high above the castle. She smiled. Their conquest of the continent had officially begun.
LOST IN TRANSLATION. SHOT ON 35MM
Front Cover Photograph by Leo Kelly ‘27