SPRING 2017

Rivulet
CROWN COLLEGE,
Est. 1916
“I am not afraid of stor ms for I
am lear ning how to sail my ship.”

– Louisa May Alcott

Little Bird by Robin Holmquist

Rivulet
Spring, 2017
Dear Rivulet Reader,

Thank you for your purchase of the Spring 2017 edition of the Crown College
Rivulet. We hope that in your inspection of this booklet you are encouraged,
inspired, and motivated to further create.

Thanks to Andrew and Rachel Harris for letting us use their art piece for this
cover. For the seniors in our party it is encouragement as we go on from our safe
bubble of Crown into the wide world to face a vast and endless ocean that is both
unknown and full of endless opportunities.

Special thanks to the triad of professors who played a crucial role to making this
booklet happen, starting with Dr. Henderson for all the hard work she has put
into leading us. Further recognition goes to Dr. Wightman, and Dr. Bouchard for
their dedicated advocacy toward creativity.
Cover Art by Rachel Harris
Now before you leave this page, a quote that inspired the Rivulet team:
Rachel Harris was trained under the tutelage of acclaimed artist Brian Jekel.
While she prefers the use of acrylics in a watercolor style, in her painting
Inigo Montoya: That Vizzini, he can fuss. Shrimp Trawler she chose to employ gouache in order to achieve smooth
Fezzik: Fuss, fuss… I think he like to scream at us. transitions between the tones of the dawning sky and the ocean. After enjoying
Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no harm. a decade and a half of success in the public sector as a web designer, she chose
Fezzik: He’s really very short on charm. to become a stay-at-home mother and teaches her children to value an artistic
Inigo Montoya: You have a great gift for rhyme. lifestyle. She lives in Norwood Young America with her husband Andrew, their
Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time. five children and a poodle named Odin

Rivulet
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it. 2016 - 2017
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
FACULTY EDITORS
-The Princess Bride PROJECT MANAGER
MELESSA HENDERSON
DON BOUCHARD LEAD DESIGNER
ROBIN HOLMQUIST BRETT WIGHTMAN STEPHEN THIESSEN
May we be a little encouragement for your day…
I don’t know if there is more to say... EDITOR-IN-CHIEEF
AMBERLE COPELAND
Thanks again.
STUDENT EDITORS
Sincerely, ALEX KUIPER
PSALMS LEE
The Rivulet Staff HANNAH MCFARLAND

The opinions expressed in works within the Rivulet are those of the author(s) and do not
necessarily ref lect the opinions of the publication, editors, professors, and/or Crown College.
5
C ON T E N T S
Concrete Poems Assorted Poems

9 23

Haikus Short Stories

15 101
Index on 142
 Concrete Poems

Picture by Don Bouchard 9

 Of Christmas Day
Danielle Roberts
Oh
Christmas
day I say to thee,
how fun to think of
Christmas
trees, and Santa’s elves
all working hard to make our
shelves fill up with toys, and all
of the carols that the angels sing on
Christmas Christmas
Matthew Grady day for us to pray to the
Joy holy child who was born for us,
Christmas to live forever in His name, the name of
Family Holidays Jesus Christ.
Giving gifts to loved ones
Jingle Bells
Spreading Christmas Spirit to all that hear
Santa is coming to town bringing gifts for the kids
The day that we worship when Jesus was born to save us
Community
Early mornings that are spent with the family around a Christmas tree
Getting to see the joy on someone’s face when they open a present from you
Being able to make lasting and unforgettable memories the people you truly love Autumn
Memories Allison Chartier-Drehmel
Christmas Would
you like to
know where the deer
and the birds go? Would you
want to frolic with the trees and
hum with
the bees?

10 11
 The Full Moon
Sephora Ngalula
Unaware
of my presence
the day, as blind
the sun made you, so
I wait, for the moon rise
to unblind your eyes, with a cute
smile and aware of my
person you become,
alive our love was
under the
moon.

Umbrella
Andrew Sorensen
An
Umbrella is like
A tree of man’s making
In that it gives both style
And shade to animals and people
Yet
Is
Imperfect

12 13
 Haikus

Picture by Gabrielle J. Schulenberg 15

 Crown Crown
Elijah Berscheid Lucas Ellerbusch

Crown students drive fast Where God is present

Can’t believe there’s been no crash In everything we do here
Proof of God’s presence A calm place to be

Politics Parents
Elijah Berscheid Hunter Jontz

Don’t judge politics Our parents are the

By its abuse. Remember, People that care and love us
Leaders work for you. Unreservedly

A Place to Learn Popular Wars

Maria Currie Tess Ler

At a place to learn Politics are rough

It is a place of wonder Seems like a popular war
It is called Crown Everyone gets hurt

Journey to the Polls Crown College

Allison Chartier-Drehmel Tiffany Maddox

I arrive to vote A dream and a hope

Hillary versus Donald Here our faith is not deferred
This is a mistake But flies like a bird

16 17
 The Fire Home to All
Blade Porterfield Ebony Schultz

Winters chill bones She is full of life

But a fire burns in inside Fresh Beginnings and bright minds
A fire for God We live in her eyes

Elections 2016 The Invisible Monarchy

Danielle Roberts Ebony Schultz

The world just may end Our beliefs are lies

People vote, and all will hope to We commit idolatry
Live just one more day To people like us

Politics College of Love

Caleb Schluessler Andrew Sorensen

New ideas consume Crown contains many people

But so do the elder ones Soulmate-seekers everywhere
Future or past now? Quite unbearable

Politics Roommate
Levi Magruder Karina Van Dyke

People on each side They are way too loud

Both think they are in the right Can’t you see I need to sleep
Could we all be wrong? Friend, turn the lights off

18 19
 Sports
Karina Van Dyke

The thrill of the game

Everyone is watching you Three Haikus
One strong move to win? Dr. Bret Wightman

Windchimes chime chime chime

Football Windless morning, July porch
Daniel Wright Swallow curves to nest

Not just head-butting

But strategy is a key Twisted fallen tree
To beat the other guy Catching floating Autumn leaves
River’s prize bonsai

Omaha
Daniel Wright Early flash of spring
Blossom pushing through the cold
Small but holds a lot A redwing blackbird
Home of many small treasures
Looks are deceiving

20 21
 Assorted Poetry

Art by Isabelle A. Schulenberg 23

 Crown
Elijah Berscheid
The grounds of Crown are very large,
Yet the cars are packed like sardines.
The closest slots are where they all crowd,
The far end is where I can be seen.
On the way to class, most people dawdle,
I try to get ahead of the slow-moving mass.
A drive for learning is all too scarce,
But for me, it’s a joy to be in class.
College clocks are different,
They have a special design:
Their rate is half or quarter speed, so,
One must learn to love the time.
Crown has been here awhile,
About a hundred years.
We’ll keep it going longer yet,
That is the staff, I, and my peers.
24
Faith
Elijah Berscheid
I can speak of things unseen,
And know another truth.
The skeptic chooses to believe
In only what has proof.
The doubters of this day and age
Doubt too little, not too much.
They reject God as irrational,
But cling to what is such.
Our truth is based
On what we know,
And we know, for
We believe it so.
How does one know anything?
How does one know God?
By faith is the only answer,
Not built on what is flawed.
25
 Beauty Guilt
Tatum Beynon Tatum Beynon

Too often do we think This problem, you see,

That beauty is in the big things It eats me and tears me apart
Bigger is better And no matter how hard I try to hide it
More is marvelous It claws and nags at my heart
Larger is lovelier My mind will buzz
Too often we forget My hands will shake
that good things come in small packages And it sometimes feels like
The tiny, dull buds of lilac flowers My world will break
Bloom into fragrant purple masses An annoying burden
Of beauty I keep it inside
The eyes of a happy infant I try my hardest
Sparkling in the golden sunlight To cast it aside
Shining with pure joy Though feelings of guilt
The vibrant smile of a person May be very strong
When they talk about something There is an easy fix
With passion in their eyes That always helps me along
You see, beauty is not equivalent to big I tell the truth
Beauty is found in the small things Get it off my chest
And may we never stop searching for those things I give it to God
And let go of the rest

26 27
Charlie’s Hairpiece
Professor Don Bouchard
Alcohol encourages unusual behaviors
As many may attest
The fruit of drunkenness
Embarrassment
When I was ten, I saw a thing
I’ve been reluctant to report
But 45 years have come and gone
And I find I have to tell someone
The tale of Christmas at my Gran’s
The neighbors came by invitation
Arriving in style for a rural celebration
In steady form, as alcoholics will maintain
Little wobble in their walk
Little slurring in their conversation
What struck us into consternation
Was Charlie’s hairpiece, new and black,
Banded at one end, a horsetail piece,
Inverted and trimmed into a toupee
How he’d figured out the thing
Only alcohol could say
The evening was funny
With everyone not staring
Taking sideways glances,
I’d say, “Please pass the peas”
And look the other way
Grinning slyly at my brother
I ignored the warning glares
Coming from our mother.
28
The dining room grew warm
With food and warming ovens
My father trying to lead a conversation
About cows, and horses, Grandma’s fritters
Anything to keep the room from titters
When old Charlie commenced sweating
The crow-ish blackness of his hair
Revealed its shoe polish beginnings
Trickling down behind his ears
And then a rivulet released its flow
To wend its way beside his nose
And dripping, dripping down, began
To drench his shirt, first the collar,
Vaulting lapels to his middle,
Until a river of black sweat
Drove to his belt and trickled in
T’was all that I could do
To look the other way
To put Gram’s napkins to my grin
As Charlie’s horse tail wig ran threads
Of shoe-black down his nose and chin
To this day, I cannot recall
Just how the evening ended
I only know that afterwards,
For years, the family extended
The tale of Charlie’s Christmas spree
White shirt, black ink, and horse toupee,
Caused our parents to bring warnings
Of the dire consequence of drink
Art by Isabelle A. Schulenberg
Just a Machine!
Professor Don Bouchard

My brother is a pilot Once up “No, that’s alright! Life can be lived all in a panic
Not just any old pilot He yells, “She’s yours!” Not today!” Fear fills us with a lingering dread
A tail dragger pilot And I am piloting But we should live our lives
Champions Or rather gingerly sliding her To prove how safe it is to fly Just like my brother said
Cubs About the blue He touches down
Super Cubs Skidding right or left Then bounces high “It’s just your life, so make it do
Holding my breath And vaults us back into the sky Whatever it is you want it to!”
Planes made of spars and fabric Wondering how much I dare
Held tight To tip her up there in the air We flit across the fields And when you’re changing
By screws And then Your directions, give it the gas!
And dope “I’ve got the stick!” He flies beneath the power lines Don’t let the fear-hyenas
And glue He yells, and I let go To show how spray planes catch the ends Bite yer—
“Don’t be afraid to fly it! Of fields
Airframes part wood It’s just a machine!
Part aluminum Make it do what you want it to do!” He skies the plane at either end
Part steel Then bee-lines it to the badlands’ edge
And we’re diving toward the ground Where suddenly we’re swooping down
Fuel tanks sloshing in the wings Then we’re bringing her up Between the canyon walls, and sinking low
Either side above our heads And we’re tilting ‘round Then, rising, turning to our right,
He sails us toward sun’s dying light
Set the mags “Give her fuel when you tilt to turn!” My only hope is that we’ll land
Hand crank the prop He demonstrates, and we are standing Before the night
Turn on the fuel On the wing Destroys our sight
Hear her pop Perpendicular and looking to our left and down And sure enough
And roar to life The air is calm
I know he’s right The night is coming on
We strap in That I am timid in my flight, Gusting breezes are all gone
Single file And he is brave with years of joy
Controls fore A pilot fearless since he was a boy We gently settle once again
And aft Back at the ranch
And rev ‘er up “You want to land?” And I help wheel her then
To join the winds I hear him say. Into her waiting hangar pen

30 31

Life Intertwined
Valorie Brecht
The night settles around me:
Coolness, stillness, rest.
The black depths of the sky like pools of ink,
A breeze kisses my neck
And somehow the world seems right again.
But I cannot linger in the stillness;
Life hastens on.
Try to grasp the moment, and the moment’s gone;
Autumn leaves floating down a stream,
We are tangled threads in a tapestry,
Constantly being pulled through, under, and around,
Interweaving with others’ lives,
We can never understand in the midst of it.
We can only hope that in the end
Out of our threads
God will make something
Beautiful.
32
Thankful
Allison Chartier-Drehmel
I am thankful for your inspiration and your motivation,
thankful for the constant support you always give me.
I love you all more than words could ever describe.
Without you all who would I be?
Because of these big brothers and sisters,
Jesus, I thank you.
They have changed me in so many fabulous ways,
showing me how to push through.
Thank you all for being my rock and my best friend,
and being somebody that I can always count on.
I thank you for your beautiful soul,
and for all our trips to Jimmy Johns.
I appreciate you both.
Without you all, life would be so much different.
All our goofy brawls, tickle fights, and deep conversations.
You being in my life has been quite significant
My Morning Walk
Allison Chartier-Drehmel
A man approaches walking his dog,
unleashed dog and around the street.
I call out, “Mine’s not too friendly”
“No, they’ll be fine” he replied.
Here we go again, I think.
His dog bounds up to me.
Mine, with snarls and hackles lunges at his.
She huffs and puffs over...
“What’s wrong with your dog!”
“He is just doing his job.”
33
 News Stay in the loop;
Amberle Copeland Forget that some secrets
Aren’t meant to be shared.
News. Forget that she cries alone.
Chitter chatter Alone with her labels-
Chitter chatter “slut,” “flirt,” “whore.”
Talking. Spreading Alone with his titles-
Life and news. “Douche,” “tool,” and “loser.”
Give me the story “He lost her again.”
I’ll lend you my ear. “She just couldn’t keep him.”
It’s not gossip! We claim. “Didn’t deserve him..”
It’s news! “Cancer.” “Death.”
Updates on friends. “Shouldn’t have come...”
Who’s dating whom? “Don’t belong.” “Can’t fit in.”
What’s wrong with him? Chitter chatter
And why is she gone? Chitter chatter
Couples, offenses, Grins and giggles
Back home with news. Fun and games
Details and tidbits, Your business mine
It hurts no one And mine is now yours
News! News!
He is Polite and Kind
Maria Currie
He is polite and kind
He wonders about you
He hears the angels
He sees you
He wants to do it all over again
He pretends to be a prince
He feels the angel’s presence
He touches a spring’s warmth
He worries about you
He cries for you
He is polite and kind
He understands your love for him
He says he loves you
He dreams for a day with you
He tries to do his best
He hopes for a better tomorrow
He is polite and kind

34 35
 The Girl Alone Faith
Maria Currie Lea Dannewitz

The day was long His word beckons us

The night was cold It is Him we admire
Scared as she went His love unfailing
But she was bold He is all we desire
She went in the house Little ones we teach
She felt a wind To walk in His ways
Climbed up the stairs They need His word like air
And she grin’d All their days
She finds a room This world has dark corners
In she goes Keep yourself in the light
To her surprise Seek out His word like a lamp
She sees toes Love Him with all your might
With disperse she screams We may not understand His will
Lying by themselves in the corner We trust Him anyway
There are the toes In the light of the glorious times
Lying there like foreigners And in the depth of the darkest day

Crown
Lea Dannewitz

He gives His angels charge over the grounds

They sail through the halls above us
Comfort can be felt by those aware of their presence

36 37
 Legacy Moth into a Flame
Amanda Eiden Amanda Eiden
An old bitter man someday I will be, In a few minutes,
Too many years of doing what I love. I’ll be back.
Then the world will have aged me horribly, Don’t leave me,
After the life I will soon be above. Don’t fade to black.
Stalking the stages and making crowds cheer,
Singing the words that mimic my troubled mind. I know you feel pain,
Killing myself slowly, my life declined. But please hold on.
Back on the road again, but times have changed. It won’t be long,
Once young and reckless, now aged and lost. Until you’re gone.
My life has new meaning, no more deranged,
But I loved each moment at any cost. Slip away you will,
Have these memories while they will still last, Quiet in fright.
Before they are just a thing of the past. Like a moth,
Into bright light.
I finally return,
You are nowhere to be found.
Returned to home,
Left me without a sound.
38
Lucretia
Amanda Eiden
In the black of night,
All things are still,
Except one,
Changing the light.
Flickering through the streets,
Haunting in attics,
Ominous laughter,
Here to greet.
Lucretia haunts
Through the night.
Creating eerie ghouls,
Spreading her gaunt.
Sinister light now fills the sky,
She haunts every being,
Scaring them to their core,
Only to petrify.
After she has her fun,
She takes everything back.
Soaking back into her flesh,
Nothing is left, not one.
Again, night falls,
All things are still.
Except one,
Lucretia’s call.
39
 The Mechanic
Amanda Eiden
He is a man with almost no personality,
Work by day and nothing by night.
Dark time ticks by so slowly,
He is never seen in light.
He soon returns home,
Tired with the ache of his soul.
Drinks all of it away,
He quickly loses control.
He is raging,
Loosening his own screws.
Gets in his car,
He goes for a cruise.
He speeds down the highway,
Yellow lines begin to bend.
Slams on the brakes, and they fail,
He has reached his end.
40
What Could Have Been:
A Sonnet on my Grandfather from my Father’s Eyes
Amanda Eiden
He held me in his arms, rocked me slowly,
He said, “I love you,” a whisper so low.
I cried, for thoughts can be so unholy.
I need him more than he would ever know,
My heart and soul ache, for what could have been.
A tear streamed down my stained red cheeks and he,
He stroked his finger down my tiny chin.
Today I saw his name, scratched on a tree.
My heart skips a beat. I catch my own breath.
He is gone, not here to help save my heart,
His dying love brought him to sudden death.
My chest tight, my heart is tearing apart.
A man rushes over. Please don’t bother,
I go to finally meet my father.
41
 Basketball
Lucas Ellerbusch
Dribble, Pass, Shoot
Drive to the hoop
Pass a nice dime
To waste a little time
Shoot a deep three
Steal the ball for free
Dribble, Pass, Shoot
Receive an alley-oop
From your teammate Hakeem
Dunk on the other team
Hear the crowd roar
After another score
Dribble, Pass, Shoot
Get another recruit
To make a team great
Now with a new teammate
Potential he may have
Need a new coaching staff?
Dribble, Pass, Shoot
The new coach wears a suit
How will he improve the team?
Maybe he’ll encourage a new theme
To bring about hard work
42
September 11: Never Forget
Michaela Finley
The most tragic day I have ever seen,
The towers moan as they sway and lean.
Innocent men and women will have to decide
Whether they fall or burn as they die.
The planes crash into the “airport,”
There can be no way to comfort.
The angry plane went down,
As it just began the terror downtown.
The dark grey ashes, groaning, fell,
As the debris clearly does tell.
Big blue tears drop to the ground,
All the moaning, oh, what a sound.
The streets covered with red blood stains,
So this thought still remains:
3,000 men and women died in innocence,
The emotions in the air, so tense.
This terror-filled threat,
We will never forget.
43
 The Seat Not Taken
Matthew Grady
Two girls diverged in a yellow bus
And sorry I could not sit by both
And be one guy, long I stood
And looked at one as much I could
To where she was attractive except a nose growth
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps a better claim,
Because she was blonde and seemed to care:
Though as for the color of their hair
They seem to look about the same
And both that morning equally stay
No other guys seem to hold either back
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet I know how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere days and days hence
Two girls diverged in a yellow bus and I-
I became the blonde girl’s guy,
And that has made all the difference
44
What a Wonder
Courtney Gunderson
Sometimes I wonder
Of random things, all around
Sometimes the thunder
Answers my crying sound
There is something bigger than me
Something that I can’t see
Something that can move even the seas
What is this dense force?
Why does it heal my remorse?
For this sort of power I cannot run away from
I’m gone and I fall and I hear it say “come”
Relentlessly for me
And never oppose
Yet my humanly instincts say “hide before He knows”
Well it’s always too late for that
For He knows everything under the mat
Can’t sweep it under the rug He knows I have a bad bug
And when the running begins to burn my lungs
And on my ladder, I’ve ran out of rungs
I drop to my knees and hang my head
And fill my soul with bread
Why this is so easy, so peaceful, so nice
I was so ashamed of all my lies
That I avoided everything inside
Now here I am looking upright
The Lord has saved me and I am alright.
45
 As Tall as a Tower
Courtney Gunderson

In the beginning, she had leapt

Tossed the wind over her shoulder Crown College
Expanded her limbs taut Nicolle Holmgren
And trusted the sky to hold her
Walking in scared as can be
In the beginning, she glided Greeted by people everywhere I go
Flew through the breeze with such an ease Finishing registration before class begins
Invincible was she Here the community will help me grow.
Soaring over and around the trees I head to my first class hoping to blend in
I am nervous to make a friend
But the tribulations will arrive As class begins I sit at a table
Push her down and pull her around And there fifty minutes I spend.
Wearing out her strong drive We worship our Father the Lord God
And she’ll feel herself fall to the ground He shows us His love
He is a forgiving God
In the end, she will be tattered That we must be reminded of.
She’s carried weight beyond her power Crown College offers many experiences
That’s everyone’s plus hers As students, you feel welcomed in the community
Yet she stands now, as tall a tower. Relationships and friendships are formed
Here I have a great opportunity.

Montana
Courtney Gunderson

I know a place where the hills can roll, somersaulting into each
other with no interruptions, no trees to obstruct and hide them,
no lakes to subside them. A place where shouts are swallowed
by open air, and no one to get in your hair, sweet
solitude and bliss, oh how I miss my home, my very
own sweet escape.

46 47

Death Penalty
Nicolle Holmgren
Life of the innocent has been taken
Convicted of a murderous crime
Putting suffering in the family and fear in the community
Therefore, the criminal must do the time.
Charged with first degree murder
Innocent or guilty, what does the jury believe?
Found guilty…. Sentenced to Death
The victim’s family can breathe with the news they have
received.
Families begin to mourn their loved ones
The community aids them in their cries
The criminal begins to feel guilt
It’s too late to apologize.
The day has come for revenge
The criminal goes through deep exposure
Criminal cannot pursue this crime again
The families and community may have closure.
48
Why I Like the Mountain Goats
Stephen Johnson
I wish I was seventeen again
To revel in the idyllic moment of the disillusioned youth,
The displeasurous joy of teenangsterdom.
Because then I could write the angry poetry,
the kind that shouts at parents
and gives life the finger
and defies conventional wisdom consistently:
The kind that I never wanted to write back before,
The kind that goes well with purple hair
and heavy metal albums
in an old beat-up Volkswagen.
It wouldn’t be so unjustified,
just evoking the obligatory societal anxiety
of parents, youth leaders, and partially-informed relatives
Who Care.
It wouldn’t be so unjustified,
just part of the game.
But what are you if you write the angry poetry as an adult?
Where is the respect of the peers,
and the fear of the elders?
And the satisfaction of really being angry,
and of real loneliness—
Spit in the face of those who say,
“It’s not so bad.”
(Or better, “I understand what you’re going through”
that phrase that never does not end in “comma but ellipses”)
It wouldn’t be so unjustified,
If only I had been seventeen when the world fell apart.
49
 Sinai
Rachel Jones

Get rid of the pain

Stop the lies
I’m going back to the beginning
Back to Sinai
Where Love came down
In a vicious storm
Laid out for mankind
His laws were formed
Smoke and Beauty
He came in fire
To capture my heart
And deliver justice to the liar
My head swims
Misery, sorrow, sin
There is such an aching
For Truth I need within
Give me a pure heart
Help me to try
Bestow upon me Your morals
Take me back to Sinai
Lord, come in thunder
With lightning strike
Touch my heart
So that we look alike
I must follow
Your original decrees
Or, surely, I know
What will become of me
My soul will turn black
I will certainly die
Father, lead me back
Take me to Sinai
Crown College
Hunter Jontz
The beauty of campus is breathtaking.
The sun shines
And fluffy clouds fill the sky.
Snow falls.
It leaves us cold and shaking,
Having us ask the simple question: “Why?”
The people are full of unending love,
With smiles and waves we greet one another.
Saying, “Hi!” here and there,
A friendly shove.
We all lovingly befriend each other.
A class may seem to last for forever
Or it may only be but a moment.
Professors in their witty endeavors
Take us in a ride full of enjoyment.
The memories of this wonderful place
One willingly calls home leaves but a trace.

50 51
 Nature’s Beauty Parents
Hunter Jontz Hunter Jontz

The blazing sun falls over the horizon. Countless times we sit where they go to sleep,
Every color of the rainbow fills the sky. Full of problems and wonderings on life,
As the setting sun begins to disappear, Answering questions and digging in deep,
We bid the sun goodbye. Acquiring much wisdom about the like.

We welcome the moon and stars Support through every single competition,
That hasten the nighttime, clear A personal fan club and a cheer squad
With glowing green-and-white beams Rooting you on in every position
That dance through the immortal atmosphere. And showing the unending love of God.

After a full night’s rest, The vast freedom to try and make mistakes
The sun reappears Allows us to grow and learn as they did.
And makes her grand debut Decisions are made for our future’s sake
Among the early risers. As we imagine it before the grid.

Life is blossoming: My parents raise their children with much love

Fawns are playing in the meadow, And give praise to the holy God above.
Mama goose swimming in the lake
With all her ducklings in a row.

52 53
Despair Awaits Peace Reigns
Isabel Korns Isabel Korns

My country, oh dear. Why then do I feel as such in the night?

I fear, I fear the end near.
My country, stay here.
Land of Fear
Our world, chaos driven, does not recall the sweet sound of serenity.
The drive of humanity has drifted to dark caverns of war.
Battles won by none, constant demise learned as a second language.
Conflict is our oxygen.
Society thrives on deprivation of the knowledge hungry.
What a time it shall be when the world bows its head and lays to rest
the sorrows of the past.
Cold, alone yet free to feel. Safe yet afraid.
Try to fight against my thoughts to avoid peril.
Old and new flood through, toss and turn at night.
My nights are long, fights strong, fierce yet timid.
Behold glories can shine bright even through the night.
Die may some, creating night, hold no freight.
Threshold may be maxed but hold tight through night.
Thy peace shall rise, availing triumphant.
Ahold clouds of harmony sing aloud.
Intensify day after night, glorious.
Gold in the sky for a new beginning.
Cry no longer, be free little flower.
Hold on tight, you will be alright tonight.

Midlife Crisis
Isabel Korns

the grips of summer in her grasp.

is this all spring has to offer?
introduced to the grey of experiences.
is there a way to keep the bud alive?

54 55
Young Leaders A Smile So Bright
Isabel Korns Psalms Lee

Alive and free, spring has sprung. A smile so bright that lights the room
See what beauty she presents. One so great it stops my gloom
Believe the innocence, as it is true. A smile brighter than the sun
Be entranced by her words so fair. While fighting a losing battle, she’s already won
Strive to emulate Spring’s soft set ways. That unspoken truth—If only I would say
Flee all fears, frolic alongside her. What really should’ve been said that day.
Leave anxiety to rest. A smile full of heaven and bliss
Key into your inner Spring. One so bright I couldn’t miss
Dive deep, do not dismay. Remembering the extra miles
We all need the Spring; she reminds us of wonderland. I only hope to see your smile.
Misconceive of this did not even the mentally strange of hats.
Feathery flow of Spring’s leaves encouraged even the darkest of souls.
Alive and free, Spring has sprung.
Agree or disagree, Spring should be admired.
Naïve we are to this fact of life.
She has sprung, do not belittle her voice.

56 57
 Color of my Skin
Psalms Lee Hopeless Words
Psalms Lee
Why am I judged because of my skin?
Or is it because I’m considered a sin Thinking that we’ll last forever
Forever judged by a superior class Longing just to be
Or should we all shatter like glass Hoping to become so effortless, clever
Believing more and more that we’re set to be last Only thinking about thee.
I forever hope to change the past
Yearning to enrich a dying race Forever being just a fable
While trying to save the human race With time being my enemy
Does my skin speak for actions? Hoping that I am able
Entitling me to the penalties to these fatal sanctions Wishing to find the remedy.
Forgiving the hate whisked upon me
Feeling hopeless, like I’m lost at sea Searching for the reason in the stars
Keeping our distance from the public eye Finding myself lost forever
My mind wanders, as does the naked eye Now able to face my wars
Should I consider forsaking my stand? While time makes us a couple of forevers.
But am I the one who should lend a hand?
My skin, why are you so judged?
But once more he wouldn’t budge
I considered saying farewell to such a cruel world
Stating that my sails have finally unfurled The Beauty of a Smile
Into the sunset, I prepare to sail Psalms Lee
Not knowing if I’ll succeed or fail
Why am I judged because of my skin? Though the moon and stars are so far,
Or is it because we’re considered a sin? You’ll always be a northern star.
A shining light throughout the night,
So full of beauty and full of life.
A smile so beautiful and so bright,
Compared to Heaven you’re such a delight.

58 59
 The Society
Psalms Lee

Mind over matter

Thoughts
One who drives for the latter
Psalms Lee
Times full of hate
Doesn’t matter how late
Bound by the chains of an equal society
The color of a man’s skin
People of this world come in a different variety
Seals his fate
Finding nothing more than relentless stress
No matter the date
Life is nothing more than a meaningful test
Forever should he be forgotten
How could a nation fall so steeply?
The son of the begotten
The heart of a nation who wants so deeply
The voice of a nation cries
To end all pain and suffering
While we face our demise
Our nation continuation of buffering
No longer black or white
Are they the next leaders of the nation?
Nor darkness nor light
Or are we set to be workers on the plantation?
We all fight the same fight
Shall we stand as one or fall as individuals?
Those with the power
Or finally come together under the same visual?
Never overcoming the hour
A time where we overcome adversity
Men who claim to be prophets
And prove our victory with certainty.
Nothing more than false prophets
Enough with being a few people of variety
Leaving today’s youth to shatter
Become more than a society.
Never finding the purpose to reach the latter

The Burden of My Chains

Psalms Lee

Taking it day to day

Pain is here to stay
Stuck inside a shell, hoping to be free
Thinking, “When will I be free?”
The rays of a sun so bright
Hoping to feel the morning light
Weighed down by these chains
Still my shell remains
60 61
 Beauty Queen
Tess Ler

She was full of grace

She was a beauty queen
But she felt like a showcase
Everyone around was mean.

As they dressed her in lace

And she knew it was just a scene,
Her mind felt like a blank space
People surrounding her weren’t keen.

Knowing she would never have a bold face

Even though she could keep it clean,
She kept up the pace
Knowing it was one of her genes.

She knew she could win the race

She just wanted to go unseen,
Just wanted things to erase
Even though she was only eighteen.

Drawing by Gabrielle J. Schulenberg 63

 Alice in Neverland Crown College
Tiffany Maddox Tiffany Maddox

Here I am in a world that changes before me. The first day we all arrive
In an environment of changing mirrors, Ready to be registered
Alice of Wonderland has made her home in Neverland of Peter Pan. The grind of everyday.
Like Peter Pan, Alice roams around free Rewards of late-night studying was what college offered.
but cannot find an end that is peace, that is love, or harmony. I do not want to wake-up early in the morning
Alice does not realize that peace, Except to see the sun rise
Love or harmony nor can she perceive it is within her. So when I do
I realize it is within me. Dawn is nothing less than a prize.
I am Alice in Wonderland stuck in Neverland as I pull in my river of tears The same sunrise that kissed the horizon
from the ocean like the old man reeling in his fish from the sea, Made being at Crown College worthwhile.
with all my might and a small boat of hope, I look up. So when I arrive to class
I see before me the beauty of life. This life is here. I come prepared and dressed in style.
And this life is now. And this life is me. Do we know what the future holds?
No, but we answer the call.
You and I, she and he are finding our niche.
In the land of the full and all.

64 65
 Faith Faith
Tiffany Maddox Levi Magruder

I thought that I could never measure up. To be fickle in faith is to be human

The answer was to give into a lie. To fill the void you need faith alone
So I remembered what Jesus said. But what happens in the end
He commanded that the enemy must die. What if faith needs to be matured and grown
I would sit in my dark room and cry. I fall again and again
What amazed me was how beautiful we were created. What if what is reaped is sown
Only God could save me from myself… from myself… But what happens in the end
Myself from no future, nothing that could be formulat- Is being believed the same as being known
ed. Is disbelief a sin
I was no longer sad, no longer scared. If so my cover is blown
The weight on my shoulders no elephant could bear, But what happens in the end
Was my sin taken away, and paid for by a price. What happens when I look upon the Throne
I can stand firm in Christ and share. Where will I go well where have I been
I stand for what I believe. Maybe I am too far gone
I stand for all that is right. But what happens in the end
I stand when I can do nothing but… I believe, help my unbelief
But rest in God’s faithfulness and burden light. Bring me home

66 67
Moments of Silence, Moments of Memory
Levi Magruder
Politics
Strong words not swords will be the end of me Lathan Martin
Fight for life fight for right fight so hard to see another night
I thought it was the end but life was just about to begin Million dollar lies with five cent intentions
No nights would never be the same Hoping for inspiration but banning immigration
No, against their thoughts this was no game No one deserves this treatment
I would move on I would live on to see another dawn
Write another song they were wrong
Did they think that would put an end to me ‘cause in the end I’m free
Free from them free from me free completely
‘Cause see I have been cleansed by the blood of the lamb
Not from something I am
Definitely not because I am better than you think I am
But because of Him because I am free from sin
Because I am whole again
There is no good in me don’t you see
The only good in me isn’t me it’s Him

68 69
Who was I?
Hannah McFarland
Surrounding me and my fellow guard was the dead of night
No sound except an occasional owl, no light except the fire before me
The long, dark, endless night held no sign of dawn just yet
Behind us stood the tomb of a dead man behind an impenetrable stone
and a Roman seal
Here we stand guarding a tomb all for the sake of the Jewish elders’ peace
of mind
Can a man truly come back to life three days after excruciating death?
Was he so loved that his disciples would come steal a body that will not
last?
How could the Chief Priests be so paranoid that ludicrous propaganda
would spread?
Millions of years of dead men not rising, why would this be any different?
Who was I to question a matter I knew nothing of ?
Of all the things a soldier could guard it had to be a dead man
He claimed to be the son of a god, he had many followers
He was loved for his healing, but he was hated for his teachings and called
a blasphemer
This Jesus, claiming to be the King of the Jews, laid dead in a cold tomb
If he was the son of god, he should have avoided being arrested in the
first place
If he was the son of god, he should have stopped the beatings
He should have come down from the cross if he was the son of god
Who was I to mock a deity I knew nothing of ?
Before the sun had a chance to rise the fire was extinguished
Not by water or earth was the flame put out, it was overpowered by
another source of light
Before me and my friend was not a man, but a heavenly being dressed in
clothes like lightning
My knees began to tremble not by my own accord, but by order of the
ground
70
Boulders fell, the ground rose in waves, to our knees did I and my friend
fall
The stone that blocked the tomb, the same stone that took several men to
move, rolled away
I opened my eyes, the sun had risen
Shaking off dust and panicked nerves I and my friend looked for the
heavenly being
With no being found we thought it was a horrific nightmare
We were wrong; the tomb testified to the happenings before dawn
The opening of the tomb gaped wide with no sign of closing
Looking within we found the linen exactly where they should be, but
something was amiss
There was no body to be found
Where the Jewish leaders right to worry?
Would propaganda spread that a man had come to life?
What would Pilate say, that we had slackened and performed
inadequately our guarding duty?
Why did we feel that going to the Chief Priests was a brilliant idea? I do
not know.
Our audience’s eye widened, a frustrated murmuring took place
With our witness account looming in the air, the Chief Priests gave us this
story instead:
We fell asleep during the night, and while we slept the man’s disciples
came
They took his body, so one should not believe that this man had risen
Along with instruction for this story came a bribe to tell it in this way
As I look back at the happenings and hear all that is taking place now
Who was I to deny?
71
 Sonnet, Crown
Jared Musser
I love how the professors teach with heart.
Time drags on here while we try to win sports.
We study hard here as Fall starts,
And sometimes in Main we will wear short shorts.
Freshman guys hit on girls like it’s their job,
As they wish for ring-by-spring to be true.
They also break things which makes my head throb;
Not to mention gossip spreads like the flu.
Crown College has so many great things to add,
The opportunities can be endless.
Many people are happy and so glad,
But you must go to class for attendance.
We love our sports teams, but golf is our best,
And we might be a little obsessed.
72
The Beginning
Jared Musser
First look: a pretty girl
Beautiful eyes and long brown hair.
A deeper look and you brighten my world;
I knew this could go somewhere.
It all began with mini-golf and the loss of a bet
On the very night of our first date,
One that I will never forget,
Overwhelmed with joy by how we could relate.
Summer ended and we left for college;
I did not know what our future might hold
And you began the climb through scientific knowledge
While my love for you grew uncontrolled.
I sit here now thinking of the days I’ve had with you,
Continually thanking the Lord above
Wish the day would come soon when we get our tattoos
Knowing that I found my true love.
73
 Jump
Joel Navam
Questions, questions, questions,
There’re many on my mind
Why this, why that?—Trust me,
There’re many that you’ll find.
I’m holding on, but I’m letting go.
Tightly loose, my grip is feeble
You’re invited to javelin-throw
But all you’ve got is a needle.
I don’t want to give in to a force I can’t see.
What if I learn my plans are not fated to be?
Does He let these things happen so I’ll have to choose?
That begs the question: does He want me to lose?
I am fighting for the wheel;
Got my foot on the pedal.
I think I know how to get what I want in life
Somebody should get up and give me a medal.
But the more I try, the more I lose.
If He’s in control, then why does He let me choose?
I don’t understand His Sovereign will;
Sometimes, I don’t even know if I fit the bill
There are things too complex for me to understand.
I thought I was wise, but I don’t know His hand.
Questions breed more questions,
Needle in a haystack is the answer to my restlessness.
The freedom of choice is bound to your command,
My choices are many, but I’m not always dealt the right hand.
Then I realize that all along, every step of the way, for each brand
new day,
There’s been one thing that keeps me stagnant saying,
“Don’t move forward. Why don’t you just stay?”
74
So I drag it around everywhere I go;
It slows me down and I indulge my doubts as they flow
It’s the longing to understand, the desire to always know.
I find myself letting go, opening the door,
Slowly moving around; He’s so much more.
I sit shotgun, surrender the wheel.
It’s hard at first, and I don’t like how it feels.
Surrender is not charming,
No, it’s not that kind.
It’s alarming
It’s not a pretty picture
It’s a dilemma and it might not be hipster.
If you’ve ever been cliff-jumping, you know what this is like.
Some would rather stay on the rocks or suggest, “Let’s take a hike”
Beckoning waters beautifully break my fall.
I’m seven feet under, breath held tight;
I’m embraced by this unending body as I’m lifted to the surface,
Upside-down gravity, then I take my breath of life.
The greatest act of love
A bold gesture of courage
It is okay for the fearless to fear sometimes
A moment doesn’t define your essence.
So look up to the sky: Hold your head up high.
Let God be God, and you don’t have to understand why.
75
Deep Roots
Blade Porterfield
Deep roots,
like a tree,
hold me steady
when happiness starts to flee.
Faith so strong,
not even a storm
can blow me away
or stop me from feeling
warm.
Troubles try to hold
and make pieces of my soul,
but in God I stand,
and He will make me whole.
Though is world is turning
a face away from God,
I look straight at Him
knowing He is not flawed.
76
Home My Life in a Minnesota College
Blade Porterfield Blade Porterfield
A mitten Driving from my home,
Surrounded by water with dullness in my veins,
Reveals its history. to a new adventure
In the woods, that will break me from my chains.
Men march There was a motivation
Looking, that was stolen from my heart;
Searching, I was feeling quite down
Dreaming. and definitely torn apart.
Dreaming of a new home, Entering the building
That is now mine today. the atmosphere reversed,
Warm dinners, there was a smile on my face
Many laughs, that I didn’t have at first.
While snow falls Like magic in the air
Down I forgot about my past;
Down laughter roamed the air.
Down.
My home
In a mitten
Surrounded by water.
77
 Childhood
Natalie Redinger

The clock of life will tick

My memories will stay
Racial Bias Still Exists Leaving may make me sick
J.P. Pressley But I cannot find another way

Racial bias is a thing. In the distance I hear my time tick tick

I’ve got it for black kings and queens. It will be hard not to stray
I’ve got it for minorities However, my new journey will start
Of all different ethnicities. quick
I don’t say this for publicity. I cannot find another way
I don’t say this for the money.
I don’t say this to get diamond rings Time is running away and faster it will
Or fancy cars or shiny things. tick tick tick
‘Cause yes, white privilege is a thing, The start of a new day
Enough to start an uprising Will cut me to the wick
All across the galaxy. How shall I find another way
No, this ain’t a fantasy.
Open up your eyes and see Tick tick tick tick
That I am not pulling your string. That sound surrounds me like clay
Racial bias still exists Dropping on my ears as a heavy brick
Forcing me to be away
Amongst ‘merica’s citizens.
We are not indifferent.
Imagination
Our bias is unlimited.
Natalie Redinger
From adults to the little kids
Our prejudice is simmering.
There’s a land called paradise
We’ve come a long way, that is true.
Perfect pleasant dreams come true
Less hatred between me and you.
Where birds sing softly and nice
But racial bias still exists
Just the place for me and you
Amongst ‘merica’s citizens
Close your eyes and count to three
I am waiting in your dreams

Soon you will be here with me

Just beyond the gleaming streams

78 79
 My Mom Sonnet
Gabrielle Schulenberg

Her eyes a blue like oceans, so vast and deep,

The Screams of Unfulfillment
With hair that matches sand and waves in wind.
Danielle Roberts
The tall and regal form tenderness keeps
A secret stronghold within quiet mind.
Line by line,
She knows of things that I do not recall.
Note by note.
Protects the smallest child from nightmares dark.
All this taken
Alive too much to ever ignore at all
By the throat.
Inside the body of most beautiful lark.
And every time
A waterfall or grassy meadow so soft
I listen to
She loves with power and gentleness as one.
Another song
A hand so firm, encouraging so oft
My mind blasts through.
Adoring all we whom are under the sun.
The noise which bears
It may be just the special bond between
The Holy Grail
To some,
But to me it’s anything but frail.
The song itself Sonnet of Crown
Cannot even be a song. Gabrielle Schulenberg
I hope to never hear a screaming
song again, A cross of sandy stone rests now in grass;
At least not for long. My life since ten was always aware of it.
The land with hills and fields and ponds I pass.
Inside the heart of my child’s frame, dreams lit.
As soon as Crown became a place I knew,
Ideas began to sprout inside my head.
If somehow early college work I will do,
Then to the cross of stone I march ahead.
I cannot say regrets e’er passed my mind
When I went through the doors into the cross.
I left my childhood for that young dream of mine,
But when it came to pass it was no loss.
So Crown has helped me see how God knows all
And we all need His cross to hear His call.

80 81
To Save Us All
Gabrielle Schulenberg
Like glistening snow, you fell to the earth,
A child in mother’s arms.
You could feel the cold and it hurt,
But compared to this, it does no harm.
You hang up high and it isn’t fair
All the love still shines in your eyes.
Your breath is cold and your skin is bare,
Your pain you do not disguise.
Growing up, a sacrifice,
The words you spoke are true.
But we all wanted our fake paradise,
Deceiving ourselves and crucifying you.
You hang up high and it isn’t fair,
But you’ll never let us fall.
The reason that you hang up there
Is to save us all.
82
To Crown
Gabrielle Schulenberg
To the hills, grass, and trees
To the stones so bold
To the Minnesota breeze
And the winters cold
To the cross-shaped center
To the hopeful air
To the students who enter
And the professors there
To the pond
And the ice
To the bonds
And “Minnesota nice”
To being Christian
And the pursuit of knowledge
To our Mission
To Crown College
Faith
Ebony Schultz
The faithful and lost, walks of all life, align in your soul.
Devoted disciples are successfully drafted into the world’s institution
Dreaming of the white fence,
Their mouths water at the smell of the green grass;
And the crisp, refreshing air. Yet,
They are so oblivious to the propaganda polluted.
The lost are so timid it could be of innocence,
But no they are dark.
They only long for acceptance and love,
But only in the eyes of the fellow human.
Their sins have withered under their skin,
Wandering has not brought them answers.
Because they are lost, how can they not sin in innocence
Or are they stamped as inhumane?
Despite their differences, they blend and it has never been so,
So beautiful.
A great love has overcome the hearts
With an underlying feeling of pain.
A pain so enticing no one would flutter a glimpse,
Because they have fallen victim, too.
They only do what is right in their eyes,
Because in His, they would be ashamed.
So they continue to exist and only that,
Because living is beyond their altitude of compassion.
Yes, even the most faithful become engulfed in sin.
Guilt compromises their name.
Strikingly, they become we and that is why we are shattered.
Our hearts are only temporary, but our souls will be forever slain.
83
 Raining Pain
Amelia Sliefert

Different colors, different designs, In need of water

different environments, and different kinds. the plants grow hotter.
Weeds or flower, flower or shrub. Dry and crisp they become
Liars in Christians, Christians at a pub. ‘til the clouds come.
Weeds are we? As a flower can wither and die
Just look at Matthew 23. the rain’s deception will never lie.
Selfless, Patient, and Kind Rain is pain
is not the love we carry in our kind. and pain is gain.
Try we may, and possibly succeed Flowers grow from rain;
yet day after day we don’t heed. now the earth can gain.
We heed not common sense! Are you the rain?
Which is plain as a white picket fence! The cause of the pain?
Inside the white picket fence Or are you the flower
the garden of pain has no sense. whose looks are so sour?
Shriveled by earthly ways Do they gain from the rain?
the petals fall and blow away. Weeds, can they gain?
Mold sets in, green turns brown, Petals may fall and leaves may droop.
the stem droops up from the ground. That’s why God is there watching over the coop.
Cut off, too ugly was the sight. So be strong and courageous-
Now lay a stub, sharp with spite. don’t let the depression be contagious.
No rain to come God waters your life
blocked off and numb. while growing through trouble and strife.
Cold and defensive was this stub.
Unwhole it was, like mother bear without cub.
Green fades away,
life dies day after day.
Slowly the cold goes away
and the sun brightens up the day.
Green spots here and there
appear seemingly out of nowhere.

84 85
 Our Crown Home
Stephen Thiessen

Our beautiful campus

Stretches far and wide.
The Forlorn Past A wonderful home for us.
Andrew Sorensen Our joy and pride
Shaped like a cross
The man in the mirror is disarrayed, Our main building stands
Facial stubble gleaming off his face, A large stone Albatross
His eyes looking downcast and doubtful, For the people who are God’s hands
A slow, dragging walk setting his pace. Professors who care,
In his hand he holds a letter, But find ways to push us
Worn on the edges, and torn on the side, Each with their own flair
The envelope frayed on every corner, Get us to learn and discuss.
And an imported dust coating it from where it had Our most valuable asset:
lied. A huge community that loves,
For the hundredth time the man pulls it out, Shares the same mindset,
His broad frame shaking steadily, Works on what is, builds upon what was
On his desk sits a calendar, Fall
Which he gazes upon readily. Stephen Thiessen
Reading through the letter, his mouth begins to pucker,
His hands shake frequently, and his eyes well with The fall of Democracy
tears, Was swift and silent
He cries out in anguish, and collapses in his chair, All thanks to the bureaucracy
The date marked eight years. Left us weak and macilent
Now we blunder
Through this day to day
Wonder
How we got this way
Social justice warriors
Stuck behind a screen
Hurling words at barriers
Doing nothing but causing a scene
Real problems that need to be solved
By unification under Christ
Together resolved
Because He paid the price
86 87
 For Dad
Stephen Thiessen
Immersed in a silent moving world.
Man who is an extraordinary father
His grand love for people is unfurled.
To him, giving service is no bother.
Yes, he may be deaf, but he listens better than most.
When anyone needs aid, he is completely there.
Man of wisdom and honor, I must boast
The greatest father on earth, I must declare.
All the signs indicate his love for others,
Labors day and night to complete his work.
All while raising two rambunctious brothers.
Doing all of this without losing his smirk.
The greatest father that there ever could be,
The one who sacrificed much to raise me
88
An Authentic Community
Karina Van Dyke
A family that’s so difficult to leave,
But God has been oh so good to me.
He’s always got a trick up His sleeve;
He’s brought me to this good community:
A place where love and peace are received.
Share and give and laugh!
Could you have believed
No one’s wishing anyone their wrath?
God may smile on this place;
To make Him proud we shall
We’re thankful for His grace,
Such high levels of moral
A Crown community we seek
Simple to find, or so to speak.
89
Grandparent Sonnet
Karina Van Dyke

Some rejoice when children are to leave

Mine will cry
My parents had to grieve Crown
Sing to me a lullaby Anna Vickers

They would give up everything People pass you, bible in hand

Never stopping They’re on a path separate from yours,
Always willing to do anything But was this planned?
We’re always talking They gather with knees on floors.
They’ll stand in prayer,
“Do your best” No, you didn’t ask for this
“You can do it” They just really care,
“Take time to rest” About you and your pure bliss
“Never quit” You’re all connected through God’s great
command
Blessed I say Text books and bibles intertwined in desk
What is Freedom? drawers.
Thank God each day
Karina Van Dyke Here, your future takes a stand
Walk through those two open doors.
Freedom is hard to articulate: We won’t look twice at the scares you bare
A feeling of being unrestrained Don’t you worry, you won’t be a dismiss.
Such excitement to emancipate You could’ve gone just anywhere
One strives for it to be obtained. But you, you will look back and reminisce.
In America, we are born free,
And we pray that we may never fall
And that we may continue to be,
God bless us one and all.
Freedom is not a given right.
Through other’s pain it is earned.
Protect those soldiers as they fight,
For this freedom we have yearned.
In America we are quite blessed
To wake up new each day
Living life without fearing the rest.
Thank you, God, is what we ought to say.
90 91
 Forest Fires
Allyson Walsh

Invested Mending Lacerations Chest pains

Anna Vickers Allyson Walsh Burning like
Forest
Yes, you’re right it is tough, Dry and cracking, Fires
It’s believing in the unseen, My wounds scabbing
It’s being a diamond in the rough Over—Showing that healing is an option. Spreading to
It’s being more than just another in Tree limbs
between. Yet it’s easy Or
You have to be completely invested To start peeling Wingspans
Giving away everything within your heart. Away—Touching the tender skin
You’ll be tried, you’ve been tested underneath. The body
Your life will forever be a piece of art. Is an easy thing
While you used to wonder if you were You, tender wound, To burn down,
enough, Irritate mood Grandfather
Your soul is now clean, Your mind temperamental in every wrong
It is no more calling a bluff, way. These tiny
Or working as a machine. Sparks
You’ll be well rested, Tending gashes, Are heightened
You be with a bigger part, Quiet passions, Scares
Better than ever could’ve been suggested, Letting sensitive skin heal over anew.
You will feel a new start. There is
No possible
way
To put out
The flames

And I am
Not ready
To gather
The ashes

92 93
 No Mas Amor Severance
Allyson Walsh Allyson Walsh
Wide Wishing, Without Wondering
I have covered the mirror red sheets Daniel Wright
With notes and quotes knotted
the closet Wide the gap has become between us
Painted the white walls half-full Without giving any effort at all
With acrylic and oils rusting Wishing I wasn’t in such a rush
faucet Wondering if I should give another call
Washed my spotless car brunette Wide awake all night
Repeatedly lulled Without enough strength for even a nod
Wishing I could just take the next flight
Aired my apartment the children Wondering “Why is this happening, God”
Completely spinning images Wide gap filled with mistrust
their father Without feeling after all
I have written words consumed Wishing this didn’t happen to us
On wingspans wife Wondering how I can get out of this pitfall
exhausted Wide the span of His powerful might
Carved phrases homewrecker Without giving into the odds
Into his hands perfumed Wishing I could see the source of light
Wondering how lucky am I to be a Child of God
Burned candles dishes stacked
Down to nothing high
lights flicker
And left lights on on
To hear the buzzing sheets hung
dry
I eyed my reflection door
As I swore: unlocked

“I do not love him

Anymore”

94 95 95
 Beats
Anonymous
Authentic Community
One second. I want to
Anonymous
Two second. I need to,
Three second. Desiring
Authentic community they say we should be.
Gone. Gone.
It’s what we strive for;
Desiring and urging It happens in beats.
Being mission-minded, community focused,
And wishing It flows in and out.
But I see some that are always
And done. How can I hold onto
looking for the door.
The music A faith that runs out?
Crescendo Liquid through fingers;
It rises and falls, How to desire
With A flame slowly dying
One second. A puttering lie.
Two second. How can I now choose you
Three second. When desire I lack:
Gone. Only desire desiring
Toy with me, And one second.
Play with me, Two second.
Emotional pull. Three second.
I want to Gone.

96 96 97
 Like Fallen Leaves Card Games
Anonymous Anonymous

Like fallen leaves off broken trees, You were a deck of 52 cards,
I fell on knees and pleaded please. And card-by-card I collected you.
As temperament goes, When you said I didn’t “suit” you I told you it was okay.
From struggle to ease, “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be a flush.”
And back to the struggle of acquiring needs. Hands running through hair,
As humans we want, Smile forming on the lips.
We live by code of greed. Your cheeks flushed,
We fold our hands neatly, And that was close enough for me.
Yet never roll up our sleeves. So what if we didn’t have the game winning hand?
We tease our loneliness, I held his,
We are forced into disease. And he held mine.
The world seems to know less and less the more it achieves, When midnight breaks the impenetrable silence of day,
The more it breathes, And fingers cease to shuffle,
The harder it gets to avoid holes the past generations have You and I are sound asleep – shuffling in and out of dreams.
foreseen.
So we grieve and we leave,
Broken hearts mended by tape on broken strings.
We fall asleep to the comfort of empty streets,
And awake to the brokenness of empty sheets.

98 99
 Short Stories

Picture by Gabrielle J. Schulenberg 101

 The Interview
Tatum Beynon
It is 8:53 A.M.
There she is. Right outside the skyscraper . . . sitting on the bench
outside the revolving door with shaking hands and a hot blush in
her cheeks. Was the dampness of her palms caused by nerves? Was
her irregular breathing due to stress? Absurd. “Nervous” was not
in Sharon’s vocabulary . . . or so she thinks. Nevertheless, she is
uneasy.
Sharon is tall with rich brown hair that cascades around her shoul-
ders. Her skin is tan, even in the dead of winter. Her cool blue
eyes create a striking contrast with the rest of her dark features.
She is of broad stature, and if looks could kill, her’s would. You
will never see her without a sharp black blazer and a pair of killer
heels. She commands respect and is never afraid to assert herself,
all while being completely and utterly kind.
She is practically made for this job, yet here she is . . . freaking out.
The unease in her heart and mind are puzzling feelings, as her
level of confidence is usually quite high.
8:57 A.M. With a deep breath, she rises to her feet. Her ankles
wobble ever so slightly as she walks through the door of the build-
ing and makes her way to the elevator. Her reflection stares back at
her through its golden doors.
102
Sharon jumps at the dinging sound that signals the arrival of the
elevator. She steps inside, along with about six other people. Hands
fumble at the buttons . . . Sharon is heading to the ninth floor. She
slows her breathing and closes her eyes for a brief moment, gain-
ing her composure. She watches the screen above the door to keep
track of what floor she is on. It stops at floor three—two people get
out. One person gets out at floor six. The next stop is floor seven—
now Sharon is alone. The screen flashes the number eight, but then
abruptly goes dark.
Sharon is confused.
As she reaches to press the ninth-floor button again, the elevator
shudders slightly. Sharon turns her gaze to the ceiling of the eleva-
tor, fear rising in her stomach. Before she can make another move,
she hears a loud, metallic snapping sound.
Trapped in the metal box, her stomach rises to her throat as the
sensation of weightlessness overtakes her. She descends—at a very
unsafe speed—back to the ground level.
It is 9 A.M.
103
Joke
Bailey Harkins
1,536. It’s been 1,536 hours since I’ve been captured. It’s been 1,538
hours since I’ve seen her. My arms were wrapped around my body,
bound by a straight jacket. The walls were a sickly green color with
mold starting to grow from them. There were no windows except
for the ones in the hallways that hadn’t been cleaned in ages so you
couldn’t see out of them. I didn’t care that they captured me; I just
cared if they touched her.
“Let’s go, Mr. Kim!” One of the workers opened the slot in my door
before opening it.
“How am I supposed to move when my leg is handcuffed to the bed
and my upper half is in the straight jacket? I swear you workers get
more ignorant every time you come for me.”
The worker looked at me, distracted by my comment. “If you were
smarter you wouldn’t be in this type of situation. What a waste on
a man with your IQ.” The man uncuffed my ankle, grabbed me by
the front of my straight jacket and dragged me down the hall to the
medical table.
“Don’t try anything funny. He’ll be with you in a second.” The man left
me in the dark room with only a lamp that was over my head. There
was a heart monitor next to me, a medical tray next to that, and an
array of medical equipment that lay all across the room.
“1,537. 1,539,” I muttered to myself, waiting for this unintelligible
man they called a doctor. I began to untangle myself from the straight
jacket, making it as loose as I could before the doctor walked into the
room.
104
His tall frame and broad shoulders stood out in this damp, dark room.
His eyes had a hint of something that I couldn’t put my finger on. If
I had met him outside of this place, I would’ve thought that he just
had an inane personality. But here, it’s different. He got the chance to
actually let loose since he worked for the government.
“Mr. Kim. Nice to see that you haven’t changed in the past 24 hours.
How’s the room treating you? It’s bigger than the room that you had at
the dorm, right?” The man was trying to get under my skin. I wasn’t
going to let it happen.
“The room service sucks. If you’re going to handcuff me to a bed, I
expect there to also be a servant to take care of me. Otherwise you’re
just teasing me, which is very rude.”
“I’ll make sure they send you a personal caretaker next time. Are you
going to open up about what you were working on or am I going to
have to try new tricks on you this time?”
I looked up at him, giving him a very sarcastic look. “Do I get a
lollipop if I tell you the truth? You have been working on getting
something out of me for 64 days now. What makes you think that I
would crack today?”
“I was hoping that you would say that. Go ahead, relax and enjoy the
new medicine that I’m going to give you.” The man grabbed a needle
and syringe filling it with 50 cc’s of a clear liquid that they thought
would make me talk. He always started with this before using new
tricks. With the clear liquid in my system for this long, I’d become
immune to it. I greeted it like an old friend, day after day. The man set
down the needle and syringe, starting off with a different question than
what he usually did.
“So who is she?”
105
I looked over at him, my heart rate speeding up, setting off the heart
monitor. “Which ‘she’ are you talking about? My mother? My friend?
The girl I went on a date with before you kidnapped me? There are
a lot of ‘she’s’. You should try to elaborate a bit more before asking a
general question if you weren’t wanting a broad, general answer.”
The man’s hand flinched, resisting the urge to slap me for the sarcastic
comment. “Who is the girl that is part of the scheme you’re planning?
Obviously she means something to you to make your heart rate speed
up like that.”
I turned away from him. I wasn’t going to give her up that easily.
“There isn’t a girl that’s doing this with me. I’ve done everything by
myself.”
The man scoffed. “You mean to tell me that you’ve overthrown most of
the government by yourself ? No help from anyone else?”
“No, your mom.” That earned me a punch to my stomach. It was
worth it.
“How about actually taking our meetings seriously for once? Once
I find her, she’ll receive better treatment than you have.” I laughed
through the pain. He won’t find her no matter what. She’s listened to
me well and knows when she is to emerge from hiding.
“If I took you seriously, that would mean these meetings wouldn’t be as
much fun.”
The man wasn’t paying close enough attention to my actions as he
was to my facial expressions. He was an ignorant man that could only
concentrate on one thing at a time. My arms were working their way
out of the straight jacket without the man ever noticing. They didn’t
tighten the back of the straight jacket very well. What a shame.
106
“How does it feel knowing that you are too drugged up to ever be able
to do anything?” The drug never took effect in my body. It just numbed
most of my emotions, making it easier to perform my tasks without
worry.
“How does it feel knowing that you’re an incompetent man that will
never amount to much in life if it doesn’t deal with drugs and torture?
Such a sad excuse for a life.”
The man was unfazed by my comment. I don’t know if he ever took my
comments to heart anymore. It had been more fun when he first started
as my so-called “doctor.” The belts on the straight jacket were undone.
I needed to find the right time to make my move.
“It’s not that sad of a life if you’re the person I get to torture. It makes
life very interesting.”
How could the man not notice any of my movements? Did he have
that bad of tunnel vision? I sat there with my arms to my side, letting
him talk to himself. He was writing fake notes about how I was reacting
to the medicine. About how I was taking our meeting today. “I wanted
to tell you before I left today that we’ve found her and are going to take
her later today. She’ll be in the room right next to yours so you both
can rot here together.” The man got up and was walking to the door,
leaving me in there.
“1,538.”
The man stopped to look at me. “What did you say?”
I got up from my seat, syringe in hand. “I said, 1,538. That’s how many
hours it’s been since I’ve been captured. 1,540. That’s how many hours
it’s been since I’ve seen her. Ten minutes. That’s all I have left before I
get out of here and get to finish what I started.”
107
The man realized that my straight jacket was undone and looked
petrified. He went to hit the alarm, but the needle hit a major vein
in his neck before he could get to it. There were no sound from him
as he fell to the ground. I walked out of the room calmly as I made
my way to the exit. There was a guard a yard away from me, facing
the opposite direction. I ducked into the room closest to me, which so
happened to be the electrocution room. I pretended to have my wrists
clamped down in the restraints, waiting for the guard to walk in. The
door slammed open. The guard stood there with his baton in hand,
watching my movements.
“What are you doing in here, Mr. Kim? You’re not supposed to be in
here.” I laughed at the guard’s stupidity.
“The doctor put me in here to try one of his new tricks. Are you really
going to go against his word?”
The guard walked cautiously towards me, not sure if he should believe
me or not. “He didn’t tell us that he would be putting you in here
today.” The guard was close enough that I could grab him and dispose
of him. Not yet, I had to remind myself.
“He had a sudden change of mind. He walked out a few minutes ago
to grab something. He’ll be back in here shortly. You’re welcomed to
stay if you want to watch.” Disgust showed on the guard’s face. He
turned away from me and began to walk out.
Bad choice, I told myself.
I moved quietly and fast, grabbing his baton and hitting him on the
back of the head. He grunted, falling to the ground loudly. I hit him on
the back of his head one more time to hear his skull crack. I replaced
my clothes with his, making it easier for me to get out of this hell.
108
I walked past three more guards who didn’t notice who I was. Two
minutes. That was all I had left to get out of here. The door to the
outside world was 60 feet in front of me. A deafening sound pierced my
eardrums. The alarm! The alarm was sounded. I sprinted for the front
doors and 60 yards to the car that sat outside of the gates. She was in
the car. She was waiting for me like I told her to. I climbed into the car,
letting her tear out of the driveway.
“You listen well. Do you have everything prepared for me?” Her black
straight hair covered her face, not letting me see her expression.
“Everything’s ready. Shall we head to the capitol?” She wouldn’t look
over at me while she was driving, but I knew that there was a smirk on
her face.
“I want food first. Go somewhere where I can get a burger. We have all
the time in the world. All we need to do is make sure that the video gets
played.”
“It’s set to play at 7:00 when the morning news plays. We just need to
finish off the government at the right time.”
I looked over at her with admiration. “Good job, Layana. You’re a
great apprentice. Let’s finish this now, then.”
She floored the car, making her way through other cars, heading
straight for the capitol. The government wasn’t going to be existent
after tonight. No one was going to be a slave to the government
anymore.
109

The Summer Morning
Hunter Jontz
Each morning she wakes up and walks out into the warm, summer
morning. She’s still dressed in her pajamas, but she doesn’t care. As
she walks out to the horse pasture, she breathes in the familiar smell of
farm and fresh air. She loves it. She performs her chores by cleaning
the stables and giving the two quarter horses their morning hay. As
soon as they finish eating, she brings them out to the pasture where she
grooms them and cleans their hooves. Her sister takes care of them
in the evening, but while she has the morning to herself, she takes
them on rides and cherishes the time she has with them. She saddles
up her horse, Dully, and takes him through the woods. Soon they’re
majestically galloping in the nearby meadow. She breathes in the
fresh scent of grass and the lake which keeps them cool under the hot
sun. She brings Dully to the lake where he gulps up gallons of water
it seems. Together, they head back home and find shade under their
favorite apple tree.
110
Goodnight Lucas
Cassandra Kalpin
She carried him gently to his room and placed him delicately on his
bed. A tear fell from her eye as she gazed at his innocent face. She
knew better, though. Lucas was always getting himself into mischief.
But neither his muddy footsteps on the newly scrubbed floor nor his
pen drawings on the walls could make her stay angry at him. She
looked down upon him now and smiled, running her finger across
his small cheek. She turned her attention to a nearby bookshelf. Her
eyes scanned the books until resting upon a familiar title. “Goodnight
Moon,” she stated. “Your favorite, right?” she said, instinctively
knowing the answer. Lucas’ gaze did not alter nor did his expression
as his mother approached the bed. She seated herself next to him,
pulling him closer before opening the book. “Goodnight room.
Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon,” she began.
“Goodnight light. . . . Goodnight bears.” She placed his favorite teddy
bear by his side. She smiled and continued to read. “Good night chairs.
Goodnight kittens. And goodnight mittens.” She then pulled the covers
closer over them and allowed herself a quick breath before continuing.
“Goodnight clocks.”
She pointed to the little clock on the page. “And goodnight socks,”
she whispered, running her hand over his white socks.“And goodnight
little mouse.” Her throat became dry so she paused and stood up. She
walked into the kitchen across the hall, then grabbed a clear glass.
The sound of the faucet disrupted the silence of the night. Soon
she returned to the room with a glass of water. She placed the glass
carefully on the nightstand and returned to the bed. “There we go,”
she said. “Okay, now where were we? Ah, here we are.” She snuggled
up close and continued the story.
111

Minutes had passed and the story neared its end. “Goodnight air.
Goodnight noises everywhere,” she concluded. She smiled as the book
was returned to its shelf. She glanced again at his green eyes that still
stared at her. She waited for the usual plea of one more story, but it
never came. Tears escaped and she forced them away. “I miss you
so much!” she cried. “If only it would have been me!” She hugged
him before returning him to the ornate frame on the nightstand. The
photo was taken only a week before he passed away. She reached into
her purse and pulled out a small rose. She placed the fragile gift into
the water glass. The cries she held back threatened to choke her. The
burn in her throat increased as she prevented the sobs and whimpers
of sorrow to escape. Her eyes met the photo once more before she
tore her gaze away. The photo, the books, the room, all held her
dearest memories-too painful for her to bear, yet too precious to forget.
“Goodnight light,” she said as she flipped off the lights.
“And goodnight, Lucas.”
112
A Roman Holiday
Alex Kuiper
Rome was filth. There wasn’t a clean cobblestone for miles. The wheels of the
carriage couldn’t turn a full revolution without smashing their imprint into a
pile of manure. They carried the smell with them all the way to the coliseum.
Lovely.
The rattle of the carriage was worse. The streets were about as smooth as bark,
and the constant bumping
combined with the smell made me seasick on land.
Father had the seat by the window, leaving me in a fetid wooden oven, my toes
were slick with sweat and my toga stuck to my armpits. Squinting, I raised my
middle finger under my nose so I could take a breath.
“Do you want to sit here?” father asked. He had the most comfortable seat, but
sat uncomfortably. His legs were still, his fists at his sides, looking straight ahead
at me.
“No.” I didn’t snap, because I wasn’t a baby, but I showed no more courtesy
than that.
“Are you sure?”
I was sure. I didn’t feel like repeating myself, but
continued to stare ambivalently at his midsection.
“I think you’re going to like it.”
That needed a response. “It’s evil.”
“Everyone thinks that the first time—”
“Fine.” I interrupted. The Roman father held absolute authority over his fam-
ily. He could have had me whipped, but he trailed off, slid into the corner, and
put a hand over his face. Good. He should feel bad. After abandoning me for
three years to chase some floozy, he’d had some kind of epiphany, ran home,
and begged mother for forgiveness. Because he’d taken great pains and expense
to secure seats in the second-to-front row, just for me, mother had forced me to
go. I wanted to vomit.
113
The carriage drove directly into the arena, mere feet from our seats, where I
exited. The first surprise was the bath of cool, clean air that washed over me
as I stepped into the light, running into my clothes and seeping into my hair.
The second was the waterfall of voices that bled together into a steady deluge
of noise: The roar of the crowd, like everyone always said. Cheers, cries, calls,
and yells. But mostly cheers. The third was the magnitude of it all. I revolved
several times, raising and lowering my head. The rows and rows and rows of
seats stretched into the sky. I had emerged into the bottom of a lake composed
of human bodies.
We sat. Father grinned at the look on my face. While I was still stupefied, the
crowd’s cheers intensified tenfold, and, as if on instinct, I gazed into the sand.
Two men, from here no taller than my finger, emerged, prowling out like
lions. The left man was a giant, armed with a short gladius sword and a shield
I couldn’t have lifted with both hands. His chest was bare, but his arms and
shins were ironclad. A bronze helmet with the face of a boar crowned his head.
Little protection. A single blow could kill him, but as he marched he turned,
whipping his sword and shield into the air. Each time he did so a section of the
arena screamed like lunatics, and some of them jumped in their seats, their eyes
bulging. I swallowed.
The right man was slighter, with the same armor, but his helmet was eagle-
faced. His weapons were a long trident with three wicked points and a net that
dragged its pattern in the sand as he walked. A retiarius. He didn’t bother to
face the crowd. Didn’t he care?
I caught myself. I didn’t care. I reminded myself that those men were slaves,
that they were being killed for sport, and that I had sworn not to watch. I didn’t
need to pick a side. I folded my hands because their trembling irritated me
and looked at my feet. Any moment, the combatants would meet. I waited, but
nothing happened. There was no way they hadn’t reached each other by now.
Well, it didn’t matter.
114
The clash of the trident’s center point striking the shield was louder than a
bell-toll, and closer than I had expected. I jerked my head up as the gladiator
followed his thrust with three more, each one deflecting off the face of steel. I
was angry that I looked and returned to my previous position. Father looked
embarrassed.
The crowd gasped, collectively going silent for the space of two heartbeats, yet
there was no sound of metal on metal. Why not? Surely if someone had died
there would have been some sound, but I was too smart to look up again. Then
the whole arena cheered as one, including father. Shocked, I look at him, then
at the sand. The spearman staggered away, dropping his net, for his arm was
wounded. I couldn’t tell how, but I could see the thick, crimson blood.
My mouth was dry and my fists grasped the corner of my seat, my every muscle
wound tight. Father regarded me with the same concern as when I’d tried to
ride a horse the first time. He rubbed my back. A sick feeling welled up, starting
in the pit of my stomach and filling me up to my throat. Shaky, I moved out of
the seats and leaned on the wall, my back to the blood. Even when I didn’t look
I could see it. I never wanted to see such a sight again. I inhaled as slowly as I
could, got dizzy at the height of my breath, and exhaled. It didn’t work very
well, so I tried again.
The winner still wouldn’t acknowledge the crowd. Perhaps he resented them, or
perhaps he wasn’t right in the head, or perhaps he just didn’t care. I liked that
last idea. Nimbly, he retrieved his net, apparently dealing with his injury quite
well. His tenacity was admirable. At least the man who deserved to win had
won. I sat again.
“What’s his name?” I asked, my throat clogged.
“Varus the Carthaginian,” said ather, pleased.
115
The next fighter was enormously fat, brandishing a sword in each hand like a
grotesque praying mantis. His helmet left his face exposed and he was grinning
like a fool, banging his swords together with glee. He looked Egyptian or
something. By now I had relaxed somewhat, though my heart still thumped so
hard it hurt my chest. I felt lightheaded. I felt alive.
Varus and the other man locked weapons and my body tensed again. Wouldn’t
they at least let him wrap his arm up? The fat man was more like a creature
with swords for hands than a swordsman. He slashed and stabbed so quickly
I couldn’t keep track of them all. But Varus stayed calm, as always. I think I
knew what he was doing, letting the big one wear himself out.
The fight dragged on, and it was during this long lull that I realized just how
long I had been watching. All at once, my mind was cleared of fog and I was
disgusted with myself. I was a hypocrite. At least I wasn’t enjoying it though.
That mangled body still haunted me, and whenever the fat man’s blade came
close to Varus’s body, my whole body tensed. The same thing happened when
Varus’s trident came close to the fat man, but not really as bad. I should stop
watching.
At that moment, Varus finally cast his net around the fat man’s leg, enmeshing
him. He pulled hard, and I realized the fight was about to be over. I gasped.
My blood surged. But the fat man, perhaps because of his weight, did not trip,
and when Varus darted in, he got his arm around the trident’s shaft, trapping it.
With his other hand he stabbed back.
I clutched my hair with both hands. “No, no, no!” There was the same grisly
scene again, but worse this time because I felt a connection with Varus. He had
been so above it all, and he was dead. His body collapsed in a pathetic heap,
his eagle face smeared with that hypnotizing blood. He deserved better. It was
wrong, like I’d been saying from the beginning. The fat man murdered him.
116
Before the next fighter had even stepped out, I wanted him to win. Anyone was
better than the fat man. I hated him. The next man was almost identical to the
first. Sword and shield. Only his face was a boar’s. That was disappointing. I was
hoping for something new. This time they faced off first, keeping each other at a
distance. The swordsman swung once, the fat man swung once, but neither came
close enough to fight for real. Some idiot walked by selling food, but I waved him
off, my eyes transfixed on the battle. Every moment, my pulse beat a little faster,
I breathed a little harder. They kept getting closer, but still hadn’t struck. The
suspense was unbearable. I squirmed in my seat, running my hands over my face
with a strangled laugh.
Finally, the gladiators charged, their swords ringing like a hundred blacksmiths.
Instead of receding, the tension climaxed, overwhelming me, knocking me off
my feet like a flood. They fought like starving dogs. Standing up, I joined my
father and the rest of the crowd, screaming in pure thrill.
The fat man slipped, clutching his wounded stomach. The tension released, and
the comedown was so drastic I needed to sit down. I wished I could join the
crowd cheering, but I was exhausted. Exhausted, and I hadn’t taken a step. I
rested, pleasurably senseless.
But wait. What was happening? I had to lean over the next row in order to
see, but the fat man was still breathing. In fact, he looked fine. The wound was
shallow. Regardless, he had dropped his weapons and lay on his back, pinned be-
neath his opponent’s sandal, his hands held up in a feeble plea. He was wretched
with fear. Like his predecessor, the swordsman looked to the crowd, his shield
raised demandingly.
The crowd looked about evenly split between thumbs-up and thumbs-down.
Angrily, I thrust my hand out, thumb down. The swordsman obeyed.
117
 Six Points Two Minutes
David Lindburg
I watched with satisfaction, then sat down. Somehow just watching all this
The days leading up to December 1st, 2015 had been a difficult stretch in my
wore out my body, but I liked it. I couldn’t wait for the next one. I hoped the
frustrating college basketball career. I had been struggling in practice: often
swordsman won.
being the last one to finish conditioning, missing shots seemingly all the time,
and getting scored on constantly. I came to the realization that I am a decent
I exhaled tremulously.
player in your average pick-up game, but just not good enough to be relevant
on a NCAA Division III team. Our non-conference season was ending, and
“He’s called Milo. He’s— Um, I don’t really know where he’s from. But he’s won
we were set to take on Southwest Hills Christian College. It was supposed to
three times. I think,”
be an easy game, but there was still pressure to win considering the potential
embarrassment of losing to a junior college. Right before tipoff in the locker
Father stammered. Just to enjoy something and to know that I was sitting next
room, I listened to Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight,” which was unusual
to him enjoying the same thing seemed to fill him with inexpressible delight. He
considering I hardly, if ever, listened to music before games.
placed his arm around my back. I didn’t know what to do.
Once the game started, the first half came and went with me sitting on the
Perhaps I’d been unfair to him. Perhaps I did want to give him another chance. I
bench. With about five minutes left in the game, we had built enough of a lead
sighed. Rather than shake him off, I leaned against him. After all, he was trying.
that Coach Herbert allowed myself and the other guys at the end of the playing
Although I’d silently denied it for three years, I missed him. So I let him put his
rotation to sub in for some garbage minutes. Because I had never played even a
arm around me, and for just a little while, I felt like the happiest ten year old boy
minute of varsity basketball in high school, I recorded my first major statistic in
in the world.
a varsity game at any level when I hauled in a defensive rebound.

I felt a little proud of myself as we headed back on offense, but I also knew it
was no big deal; that was until I grabbed an offensive rebound and laid it in for
my first ever points in a varsity contest. I got some high-fives as we got back on
defense. I probably had an obvious pep in my step that only got more noticeable
as I got another defensive rebound. For reasons still unknown to me, I stood
right underneath the basket instead of trying to get open for the next offensive
possession. It worked anyways, as I was left uncovered and managed to score
again. This time the crowd’s cheering was a bit more excited than the first times
I had scored points. A few moments and a couple more rebounded shots by me
later, we were on an offensive fast break. As I was sprinting back, my teammate
Adam decided to pass me the ball in transition. I went for the lay-up with my
right hand, despite me being left-handed. I panicked for a split-second as the ball
slipped out of my hand a fraction of a second earlier than I had wanted. The
ball took an unusually high arc to the backboard. After rolling around the rim
for what seemed like eternity, the ball fell through the net.

118 119
 Now the crowd was louder than at any other point in the game. Ben Brecht was
announcing the game with his fantastic public address voice, and as I ran back Notes that Broke
up the floor, “LINNNNNNNDBURRRRG FOR TWO!” came booming out Tiffany Maddox
of his microphone. The spectators erupted into the loudest stretch of applause
the game had heard so far. The next dead ball saw me get subbed back out, Maelodie was a girl. She grew up on the side of town where the air
and I tried to walk back to the bench as calmly and collected as possible: people was thick of disappointment and shame was like a layer of sweat she
cheered for me again, and nearly all my teammates on the bench excitely came wished she could wash off.
to congratulate me. We ended up winning the game by at least twenty, and I
finished with six points and four rebounds. It was an expected result for the
There was nothing she wanted more than to get out from under the
team, but my stat line was and still is hardly anything to brag about. It doesn’t
glass that caged her in a state of desperation. She dared to do what
matter though.
no other had done before. She sang when she was happy. She sang
I had dreamed my entire basketball career of a moment when I would play to when she was sad. So light and beautiful were her notes that they
the best of my ability in a meaningful game in front of my friends and family. broke the glass that once caged her in captivity.
I was denied that dream in high school for several different reasons. I wanted
to taste that moment so badly that I trained for two years, and toiled away on
Crown’s JV team for a season just to get the chance to play on the varsity team
one day. Those were the only points I scored during my entire college career,
but I will never forget the two minutes that I got them. In one of my all-time
favorite movies Rocky, the world heavyweight champion boxer Apollo Creed
says to Rocky Balboa near the end of their brutal title fight, “There won’t be
no rematch.” To which Rocky replies, “Don’t want one.” Rocky, the no-name
backroom fighter goes on to last the full 15 rounds against the reigning world
champ and even though he technically lost the fight, he proved to himself and
the world that he had the ability and desire to take advantage of the biggest
opportunity in his life.

That’s the closest comparison I can make to my feelings about the two seasons I
played college basketball. Yes, I barely even played and only my teammates and
coaches will remember the moments from that game, but I proved to myself and
every other person in that gym that with persistence and hard work, it’s always
possible to live out your dreams.

120 121
What If ?
Levi Magruder

Abby was only 15 when her best friend left the world. No matter how There is something I do know: God does love you and God does love
many people told her it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t stop asking herself Johnny, sometimes what happens in this life doesn’t make sense, but that
the question. doesn’t change his love, and the alternative isn’t worth living.”

What if ?
What if I had come over that night? What if I had called? What if I had
been a better friend? What if I had told someone? What if ? No one knew
the conversations they had had late at night, when he had told her about
his desire for death. No one knew how many sleepless nights were spent
worried for his safety, but doubting the possibility. So she sat there, only
15, thinking of death herself. As she sat in the pew at his funeral, looking
at his casket, she was terrified. What would happen next, after the funeral,
after Johnny? Johnny’s parents were sitting two pews in front of her, and
she couldn’t bear to look at them. She knew what was coming, She knew
that her name would be called and she would have to share; she was
ready to share. So she got up and left.
Abby could not believe the grieving mother was sitting next to her. She
just started crying and sunk into Johnny’s mother’s arms. As his mother
whispered words of comfort, Abby began to feel clarity like she had never
felt before. She was no longer fixated on her own pain but on the sorrow
that Johnny must have felt and the terror the people in that church were
feeling right now. She stayed under Mrs. Thomas’s arm as they walked
back into the church and sat next to Mr. Thomas.
She now knew what she would say.

Abby left the church, walked through the yard, and sat on a bench. She
just needed a second to think and then she would go back. As she sat
there pondering, her eyes kept wandering to the cross on the side of the
church. She had never really been religious, but Johnny’s father was the
pastor at the local church. She thought back to that time at camp when
she had accepted Christ, and she began to get angry. “How could this
God of love fill the world with so much despair,” she asked herself in a
broken voice. That’s when she heard a rustle beside her. “I don’t know,
but what’s the alternative? I think that is . . . was . . . what haunted
Johnny; I think that’s what haunts us all.

122 123

Place in My Soul
Lathan Martin
I’ll never forget that smell. Sausages crackling in the pot and pancake
batter being poured on a hot buttery skillet.
That smell was my grandmother’s Paula Dean-like excellence on
display for the youngest five of her seven total grandkids.
That smell will always take me back to the sticky summers where we
would play football in the huge backyard.
That smell will always have a special place in my soul.
That smell soothes my heart like pancake batter being poured onto a
hot buttery skillet.
124
Street Lights and Chicken Bites
Nick McCormick
Covered in grass and overwhelmed by the smell of walnuts, I stomped
my cramped up legs over to the soothing leather couch. I was still shaking
from the recoil of my grandmother’s lawn mower. Home alone, I let out
a huge breath, seemingly letting loose the pressures that had been put on
me for the day. Unexpectedly, the phone rang. “You would be very proud
of your brother; he did very well,” my father proudly stated.
In the background I heard the dreaded words, “Tell him to pick up
Westin from Grandma at the Bartonville McDonalds. 8:30. Don’t be
late!” This was definitely my mother speaking.
I responded with an understanding, “I got it, I got it.” Bored out of my
mind, I hung up the phone and turned on the sportscenter highlights.
I was in desperate need of some quality entertainment. However,
sometimes when you are starved for excitement, costly mistakes are made.
***
Rushing down the interstate, I finally got off at the Bartonville exit 3
minutes behind schedule. I thought to myself, “I had to watch one more
highlight on sportscenter, didn’t I?” When I finally arrived for the quick
exchange, my little brother Westin expressed his overwhelming hunger.
My grandma gave me five dollars to buy him something from the drive-
thru. Of course his choice product was the new spicy McChicken bites
advertised constantly during the Olympic Games. This was of no surprise
to me; Westin, or “Boo” as I call him, loves chicken! So I gathered the
order and we began on our trip home, or at least we thought so.
Approaching the interstate, Boo waved his chicken bites around and told
stories of the fun games he played with my grandma. His comments were
the most exciting things I had heard all day. Entertained by my brother’s
spirit, I got sidetracked, causing us to go the wrong direction on the
interstate. Instead of going towards the west side of Peoria, we were now
going east!
125
As we continued up the ramp, I was already searching for the first exit.
Just as we started to merge with the traffic Boo asked, “Do you want some
chicken Nicky?” While doing so, he flung the chicken bites onto my arm,
causing them to scatter all over the driver’s side of the car. Now, I was
juggling many tasks in my head. This caused me to become extremely
impatient.
My immediate response was to flip on the light, lock the vehicle into
cruise, and begin to pick the spicy bites up one by one. However, the
scattered chicken was very tempting. Soon, I began shoving the bites into
my mouth rather than place them back in the rectangular package they
came in. My mouth flamed as I tried to express frustration with Boo.
Handling so many things at once, my driving was bound to be out of line.
Nonetheless, I managed to keep the vehicle on the road, which seemed
good enough for me.
Suddenly an SUV with blue headlights approached me from the rear and
began to tailgate me. I pointed this annoying driver out to my brother,
who was still giggling from watching me try to pick up his inconvenient
mess and drive at the same time. Just as I was identifying the vehicle
behind me, the lights came on. “Crap, that’s a cop, Wes!” I yelled.
My brother initially responded with a childish, “nuh-uh!” Then, the lights
became visible to him. He froze, and that was the last I heard from Westin
for a while. His mood changed immediately when he realized what he
had done. Boo had hardly been pulled over on his racing video games, let
alone in real life! The officer emerged from his SUV, puffy chested and
as serious as could be. When the officer got to my window, he asked, “Sir,
have you been drinking this evening?”
Shocked out of my mind, I almost began to laugh as I responded with a
giggling, “No, Sir!” Regardless of my answer, it didn’t appear to be such a
funny question to him as he began shining a large flashlight right into my
eyes and moving his finger back and forth, trying to get my eyes to follow
it. The man questioned me once more, “Are you sure?” Obviously, I was
not changing my answer. However, this time I was more serious.
126
From that point on, I spent my time with the officer explaining to him
that my little brother sitting in the passenger seat next to me had spilt his
McDonalds all over and I was attempting to clean up the mess. At this
point, Westin was of no use to me. He just sat in the seat with his head
down, staring at the bites, seemingly disappointed in himself as well as
his snack. The officer took one look at Boo and must have also noticed
the numerous bites still on the floor, for he respond with, “Yeah, that’s
probably the truth.”
I gave my license and registration to the man, trying to figure out if I was
going to get a ticket. My future as a driver was in his hands. Tickets were
not tolerated in the McCormick household. Eventually the officer came
back, handed my papers back, and hollered, “Drive carefully now!” while
walking back to his vehicle. I was instantly relieved and a smile appeared
on my face. I realized the humor of the events which had just taken place.
However, the same cannot be said about my brother as he sat in his seat,
still as a rock. I merged back onto the interstate and was finally able
to get off in East Peoria, heading towards home! The whole way back,
my brother continued to sit in his seat, not even looking at his chicken
anymore. The only words I got from him the whole way home were a
weak, “I’m sorry,” and a regretful, “I’m not hungry anymore.” This quiet
ride came to an end about the same time my parents were arriving home
as well.
Quickly, I began sharing the story and turning the whole situation into one
big laugh. However, my parents helped me realize that I deserved partial
blame for the events which had taken place. After all, driving is serious
business when you are the son of a car dealer. However, one good thing
did come from all of this. I got to finish off the Spicy McChicken bites!
127
A Grey Clump in the Sky
Blade Porterfield
BOOM! CRASH! The thunder roars through the skies and the
lightening crackles through the air. The sky was getting filled with
massive, white puffs that collected and transformed into a grey clump.
A boy, stuck in his wooden home, began to see nature transform. He
had always stayed quiet in his bedroom and never dared to adventure
outside. His mind always brought him memories of movies where
children would get stolen or receive poison ivy, up and down their
limbs. He was a mama’s boy and clung to her whenever he felt lonely
or scared. Even in the joyful times, he just wanted to spend it with
her. She always made him feel calm. There was only one difference
between him and his mother, and it was that he was always pondering
and thinking about things. She was too busy, and loved the little boy to
death. The mother could see her little boy thinking, right in front of a
sliding glass door, watching him watch the weather go from bright to
dark. Her mind switched and she became concerned for the boy. She
gracefully walked over to her son and asked,
“Could you please move away from the window honey? It’s not safe to
stand by the window in storms.”
The boy replied, “But mommy, I want to see…” Suddenly, a bright
light flashed into the mother’s eyes, followed by a large CRACK!
The boy was laying on the ground, and tears streamed out of the
mother’s face. The life drained out of her and she fell to her knees.
Laying her head upon the boy’s chest to hear a heartbeat…
128
Life or Death
J.P. Pressley
The child looked so precious, so gleeful, so trusting as it looked up at
Kirk with a smile on its face. It looked so…innocent.
Ignoring the slight shaking of his hands, Kirk raised his sword above
his head. He gazed upon the carefree child one last time. It was so
innocent. It didn’t deserve to grow up in this desolate and immoral
world.
Kirk swung his sword, cutting through the neck of the babe just as easi-
ly as it cut through the air in its path.
“Thank you, Henshaw!” came the cry of a woman.
Kirk turned and saw that it was the babe’s mother who’d cried out, and
now, accompanied by her husband, walked towards him.
“Thank you,” the woman repeated with tears in her eyes.
Kirk looked at the woman long and hard before responding. It was
obvious that she was in a great deal of emotional turmoil – as anyone
in her position would be – but she seemed resolute in her grief. In her
sadness, she appeared steadfast in her decision. And her thanks was
genuine.
“You’re welcome,” Kirk replied, wishing his words were as genuine as
the mother’s. He laid down the bloody sword beside the body of the
slain baby and outstretched his arms to the mother and her husband,
both of whom drew near to him and let more tears stream to the
ground.
“Your child is in a better place.”
. . .
Upon entering his small hut, Kirk immediately went to and fell on top
of his straw bed. The man looked up at the bare ceiling and sank into
thought.
The babe he’d slain today was the 627th. The 627th child he’d slain
in his work to-date. One would expect that his mental and emotional
strife would be easier to cope with at this point; but they’d be wrong.
With every new babe he slayed, Kirk felt as though he took one step
closer to the point of no return, the point where he would no longer
care about the reason he slayed the infants.
Wait, what was his reason?
129
In a short-lived panic, Kirk jolted up in bed, his eyes wide and his heart
fearful before he remembered why he’d agreed to work as he did.
It was for the good of the children.
At the time of their deaths, each of Kirk’s “patients” were under
the age of accountability: they couldn’t be held responsible for any
wrongdoings, and were thus innocent. The belief then, was that the
children go to whatever great afterlife there was. Whether Jehovah was
real, Ra, Zeus, or some other deity, the children would enjoy paradise.
If they remained on earth, they might choose wrong, and thus end up
in the depths of Hades at the end of their earthly life. Kirk, then, at
the request of their parents, was merely securing the children’s ticket to
paradise. His work was necessary, and noble…admirable even. Yeah.
Having convinced himself of such, Kirk once again laid upon his bed.
He closed his eyes, but they opened not a second later as another,
perhaps even more important, question pressed upon his mind.
In saving the souls of the babes, was he damning his own? In securing
others tickets to paradise, was he securing his own ticket to hell?
For a long while, Kirk sat on the side of his bed, pondering these
things…but he was unable to reach a solid answer. And without an
answer, Kirk found he was unable to sleep.
He needed to get an answer.
Kirk rushed out of his humble abode and looked up at the sky. The
sun had begun to set, but it would be a while yet before night was fully
upon the village. There was enough time to yet find and discuss his
dilemma with Markus.
That’s what he’d do. If anyone could offer him the aid he now needed,
it would be the young orphan.
Kirk set off at once.
. . .
“Kirk!”
Kirk looked up and saw Markus standing in front of his own abode,
and slowed the pace with which he ran until he came to a complete
stop in front of the young black man.
130
“Markus!” Kirk huffed as he labored to catch his breath. “Just who I
wanted to see!”
“And evidently it’s something important if it got you to run down
here,” Markus smiled as he clasped the man on the back. “You never
run! Do, come in and sit down.”
Kirk nodded in acceptance of the invitation, his breathing still a bit
labored, and the two men walked inside and seated themselves across
from each other.
“So tell me,” Markus said once his friend’s health had returned, “what
could possibly be on your mind that you run to my abode?”
“My own damnation, Markus,” Kirk replied. “My own damnation.”
Markus sat up in his chair, his curiosity intrigued.
“How so?” he asked.
“My work,” Kirk began, “I can’t help but wonder if in doing it I’m
damning my soul.”
“Go on.”
“I’m killing babies, Markus. I’m literally killing babies, almost every
day. These babies have done nothing wrong, not one thing…they’re
innocent. But because their parents ask me to kill them, albeit for the
noble purpose of life in paradise, they don’t get to live a life here on
earth.
“Clearly, there are plenty of bad things on this earth that would only
serve to enslave these innocent children to sinful wrongdoings, but
surely it’s still a life worth living…right?
“Either way, regardless of whether or not life on earth is worth living, I
can’t help but feel that I have blood on my hands – that I’ve murdered
people. Murdered 627 people to date actually.
“And murder is a crime that can’t be undone.
“Because of this, although the ulterior motive may be just, am I
damning my soul, Markus? Am I just securing my ticket to hell?”
Kirk looked up in hopeful anticipation of an answer, but Markus
simply sat back in his chair and pondered Kirk’s words.
131
For a while, then half a time, and at length a full time, Markus stayed
stationary in his posture as he thought, and it was in less time than
this that Kirk anxiously grew weary of waiting. Just before Kirk cried
out for an answer, however, Markus sat up to speak.
“The dilemma you’re having is matter of right versus wrong,”
Markus began, “and the real questions you’re asking are these: ‘Is it
okay to do the right thing for the wrong reason?’ and ‘Will I then be
responsible for doing these wrong things?’
“It’s obvious you’re doing wrong things. To be blunt, you’re
murdering babies. And if that’s not wrong…well, then I don’t know
what is. At the same time, I must admit that the reasoning behind
why our village has you murder these children is quite noble. As for
whether you can then be held responsible…I can’t say.
“But your dilemma is also one of life and death, and therein lies yet
another question: ‘Do you choose an earthly death for the child so
that they might receive everlasting life? Or do you choose to allow the
child a life on earth, in which there’d be no assurance of life beyond
that here?”
Having said thus, Markus sat back in his chair and looked, quite
blankly, at Kirk.
For a short while, Kirk returned the look, but eventually he couldn’t
take it anymore…he had to know.
“Well?!” Kirk nearly shouted. “What are the answers to these
questions?”
Markus allowed himself a slight smile before responding. “That’s for
you to decide, Kirk, you and you alone.”
At this comment, Kirk sunk into his chair and let out an exasperated
sigh. So far this trip had been for nothing; he was more confused now
than he’d been before he came.
“But,” Markus started once again, “I will tell you this. Everyone’s
born for a reason. And every person has the potential to make change
on this earth for the better. They just have to be alive in order to be
given that chance.”
132
“The last part…” Kirk said, correcting his posture, “…how do you
mean?”
“Well, take me for example.” Markus began. “My mother died birthing
me, and my father wasn’t in the picture. Many people in the village
sought for you to send me swiftly to the afterlife, so that, hopefully, I
would be reunited with them there. My grandmother, however, who
was herself on the verge of death, would not let that happen. Even you
supported her, and I was therefore entrusted to her care.
“Sure enough, she died when I was only seven, and I was left to fend
for myself. It was rough, but I survived. There were even times that I
wished I was never born, but I got through it, and am now appalled at
myself for ever wishing such a thing.
“Now, at the ripe old age of nineteen, I work amongst the surrounding
villages, helping the orphans learn to fend for themselves and survive
on their own in this world. Which, I like to think, is making this world a
better place in a small way.”
“But you never would’ve been given the chance to lead such a life
had I slain you when you were but a child,” Kirk filled in, a sense of
understanding now falling over his being.
“Exactly.” Markus confirmed with a twinkle in his eye. “As I said
before, your dilemma is one of life and death. Now I’ll tell you that the
choice is for earth. On earth, what will you choose for your patients?
Life or death?”
. . .
Kirk pondered Markus’ words as he walked back to his hut. Markus
had asked some good questions. But how would he answer those
questions? And how would those answers affect his own life?
“Kirk! Kirk Henshaw!”
Apparently those questions would have to wait.
Kirk turned towards the sound of the voice and saw a young couple,
sleeping infant in their arms, traversing towards him.
133
 “Yes?” Kirk asked the family. “How may I help you?”
“We talked it over,” said the father, “and we’ve chosen to secure our
son’s eternal life rather than have him live an earthly one.”
“Ah, I see,” Kirk replied in a low, grave tone. “Well, I can be of
assistance first thing tomorrow, then. If you bring the child to my
workplace at about high noon, then -”
“No, please, we’d rather not wait,” the mother cut in.
“Yes,” the father agreed, “we’d rather get it done with while it is yet
today. We’d rather not sleep the night away in angst of the matter.”
“Understood,” Kirk said as he gave them a nod. He looked up at the
sky. The sun hadn’t quite set yet. There was enough time. “Come
with me, and we will go at once.”
The couple agreed enthusiastically, and followed behind Kirk as he
led them through the woods to the clearing that was his workspace.
As they walked, however, Kirk couldn’t help but feel even more
distraught than he’d been earlier. He hadn’t yet answered the
questions! If Kirk committed this act now, would his decision have
been made? And if so, how hard would it be to reverse? But if he
didn’t do this now, he’d soon be without a job.
Soon enough, they reached the clearing, and the baby was laid upon
the bloodstained gravel slab. The parents stepped aside to watch,
tears streaming from their eyes, and Kirk grabbed the gaudy sword
from its place in the ground.
Kirk gazed upon the child. Still it slept, unaware of the present
danger. The smile on his face, the look of content which he bore so
well, seemed to show the utmost trust in his parents…a trust that was
apparently misplaced, though they should be the ones to protect him
by any and all means.
134
Kirk couldn’t kill this child. He wouldn’t. Yet he was unable to stop
the sword. Kirk closed his eyes. This wasn’t what he wanted to choose.
He couldn’t choose it. The sword wasn’t stopping. He had to make a
decision. He’d choose…he’d choose…
. . .
“I choose life!” Kirk yelled as his eyes shot open.
He looked around him, his eyes adjusting to the darkness that was now
around him. There was no sword in his hand, no slab or infant below
him. Instead, there was just sheets, and beside him was…
“Ah!” Kirk yelled, as light flooded the room.
“Sorry!” a woman exclaimed. “You’d yelled and I just wanted to make
sure you were alright.”
Kirk turned towards the woman, and, looking about the light-filled
room it suddenly made sense. It had all been a dream.
“Yes, I’m fine, dear,” Kirk told his wife. “I’m fine now. But I have to go
do something.”
“It’s 5:26 in the morning. What could you possibly have to go do?”
“I have to go to work and tell my boss I’m quitting.”
“Quitting? Honey, why would you do that?”
“Because I simply can’t aid in the abortion of any more children. I
can’t. It’s a matter of life or death. And I’ve made my choice now.
“I choose life.”
135
Memories of Shadow
Gabrielle Schulenberg
Dust danced in the lines of light that were strewn across the arena
sand. The rhythmic thud of Shadow’s hooves created a sort of music in
the still, cold air. As I rode her, it felt like floating on a cloud. Perhaps
it was a physical description of freedom itself; a rare experience of
true elegance. We crossed the arena, letting the lines of light meld
together as we united in form and being. Nothing could stop us, and I
felt the feathered wings of joyous flight surround me as they grew from
Shadow’s angelic shoulders. We spoke a language that nobody could
hear, and had conversations that surpassed sight.
The dance-like movements slowed, and stopped and our two forms
separated from the flying creature that we had become. Touching the
ground felt like being pulled out of heaven. Reality embraced me,
but I looked into Shadow’s eyes and still saw a fleeting glimpse of
the heavenly experience. We were the only two who remembered it,
no matter how many people watched us. I reached up and caressed
the mane of my precious horse. The strands of hair that I finger
shimmered in the dim light of the arena. A cloud of dust grew around
me and Shadow.
Then, she started to fade and I desperately embraced her; before I
could utter goodbye, she had gone back to heaven where she belongs.
I sit up in bed. A strand of light stretches across my wooden floor, and
fragments of dust flit around in it. Reaching my hand through the
light’s warm glow, I look to the ground and remember my Shadow.
136
Infliction
Ebony Schultz
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The door bellowed with anger. It demanded to be opened. It pushed
and pushed with all its might. Her fear kept the door tightly secure,
but she was trembling as a result. Her determination is fueled with
adrenaline and remembrance. She is driven by the painful flashbacks.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Even stronger than before the door continues to yell. The voice behind
the door is finally heard. The deep, low tone reminds her of his
considerable stance. He is a looker but does not see. His beauty is only
skin deep, his mind is filled with disturbance, and his heart is gone. The
rage in his words no longer affects her. She does not speak, she does not
obey, but she stands guarded on the other side. This is not the first and
sadly, not the last round.
Finally, the door is silent and calm. She exhales her fear for now and
examines herself in the mirror. She does not see herself, but just a
woman with rich skin and a beaten face. She does not see the beast
within him, only a man who suffers a disease so fierce. He recognizes
her beauty, but does not acknowledge her love. He knows she is always
his not because of love, but because of the fear he inflicts in her. And
the woman does hold so much beauty, but she is blind.
Saturates
Ebony Schultz
The fresh morning dew upon the field flowers lightens my mood.
The petrichor saturates my senses. Nature has the most infatuating
pheromones. If only we were as kind as nature, but we are just the
antithesis. We seek only our desires and this often leaves a trail of
destruction. That is why this field of flowers is so beloved, because soon
enough they will be wasted.
137
 Adrift
Stephen Thiessen

Day 21:
“Sam and Chris keep getting into fights. I guess Chris is upset that Sam
never seems to shut up; she is always so upbeat. Sam seems to hate that
Chris doesn’t contribute and is always a downer. I mean, it’s hard to
keep a positive attitude when you’re stuck in a raft with five people.”

Day 37:
“Phil and Mel seem to be getting along well. They are also tired of the
bickering that comes from Sam and Chris. Phil is always so calm and School is Out
completely convinced we will survive this. I don’t know how he does Anna Vickers
it.”
The bell rang and all the kids screamed.
Day 44:
“They’re all getting on my nerves now. I had a dream that I ate all of School was out and summer had begun.
them… man, it would be nice to have some food. Mel is so depressed
all the time now; she hasn’t spoken in days. I honestly don’t know how Children by the dozens ran out of the buildings and onto the buses.
long we are going to last.”
Linley and Raymond sat next to each other and discussed their
The sailor closed the journal with a sigh. Then he ran his hand along summer plans. Raymond was going to go to a summer basketball
the seam and looked up at his cabin mate. camp and Linley was going to finally jump off the high jump at her
neighborhood pool.
“You sure there was only one of ‘em.”
“Yup. All of a sudden there was a sudden jerk on the bus and the children
“But he writ ‘bout four more?” began to fly through the air.
“No sign of any others.”

138 139
John Smith
Anonymous
There was a knock on the door and my mom answered it. A man
asked, “Hi, may I speak to John Smith?”
My mom replied and said that nobody by that name lived here. The
man had received a call from a man named John Smith complaining of
a foul smell from the area. Later, my mom found a certificate for John
Smith in a mound of paperwork. This was when we officially gave the
ghost a name.
Over the years, we have experienced many weird things. Our dog
would bark at random areas of the house, things would disappear, and
we received voicemails from John Smith. When we moved to Bismarck,
ND, we visited New York. While we were there, my brother received a
voicemail, with no evidence of a missed phone call. It was a voicemail
with static sounds, and all we could make out was, “. . . this is John
Smith.”
We moved to a new home and had two dogs. They would both
randomly bark at different areas of the house for no apparent reason.
When we drove our car, there were times when our radio stopped
working or just skipped songs. We also experienced a couple times
when we were in the car and it got put into park and began locking and
unlocking as we tried to get out.
This ghost has followed our family, however we are unsure of the
reason why. We live in MN now, but little things are noticed; radios still
act funky and small things will disappear. John Smith has been with us
for as long as I can remember, and I believe he does things to make us
aware that he is here.
140
Bill in IT
Anonymous
Billy was very nervous for his first day at the office.
He’d worked IT before, but never as a manager. What would they think
of a kangaroo for a boss? He pushed past the heavy glass door and
hopped up to the front desk,
ignoring all the staring eyes.
“Mr. LaRoche?” asked the secretary, trying to look away from his tall
ears.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.
“Ms. Burton will introduce you to your team and get you started.”
“Thank you.”
It had been four weeks since then, and work was going rather smoothly.
His coworkers were always polite, yet Billy could tell they were still
uncomfortable around him. He had broken one or two things with his
tail, but he’d become quite adept at diverting attention elsewhere—
until one unfortunate day.
The assignment was simple:
He and a partner were supposed to give a presentation to the rest
of the staff about a new computer system. After a few minutes, Billy
turned around too fast to point at a graph and his tail swept his
partner’s legs out from underneath him. Mr. Paulson crashed to the
floor, causing everyone to stand up with a gasp. “I’ve put up with this
long enough!” exploded Mr. Paulson, clambering to feet.
This sort of thing had happened before to Billy, so he had prepared a
defense. “Paulson,” he began, “I—”
“And that’s another thing: Where did you learn to talk?! Not only have
I had to work with a kangaroo in this office, but he’s my boss too!”
Paulson exclaimed. “What is this world coming to? Everyone’s acting
like he’s some person!”
141
 Index Faith - Elijah Berschied 25
Beauty - Tatum Beynon 26
Concrete Poems
Guilt - Tatum Beynon 27
Christmas - Matthew Grady 10 Charlie’s Hairpiece - Don Bouchard 28
Of Chritsmas Day - Danielle Roberts 11 Just a Machine! - Don Bouchard 30
Autumn - Allison Chartier-Drehmel 11 Life Intertwined - Valorie Brecht 32
Umbrella - Andrew Sorensen 12
The Full Moon - Sephora Ngalula Thankful - Allison Chartier-Drehmel 33
13
My Morning Walk - Allison Chartier-Drehmel 33
Hiakus News - Amberle Copeland 34
Crown, Politics - Elijah Berscheid 16 He is Polite and Kind - Maria Currie 35
A Place to Learn - Maria Currie 16 The Girl Alone - Maria Currie 36
Journey to the Polls - Allison Chartier-Drehmel 16 Faith - Lea Dannewitz 37
Crown - Lucas Ellerbusch 17 Crown - Lea Dannewitz 37
Parents - Hunter Jontz 17 Legacy - Amanda Eiden 38
Popular Wars - Tess Ler 17 Moth into a Flame - Amanda Eiden 39
Crown College - Tiffany Maddox 17 Lucretia - Amanda Eiden 39
The Fire - Blade Porterfield 18 The Mechanic - Amanda Eiden 40
Elections 2016 - Danielle Roberts 18 What Could Have Been... - Amanda Eiden 41
Politics - Caleb Schluessler 18 Basketball - Lucas Ellerbusch 42
Politics - Levi Magruder 18 September 11: Never Forget - Michaela Finley 43
Home to All - Ebony Schultz 19 The Seat Not Taken - Matthew Grady 44
The Invisible Monarchy - Ebony Schultz 19 What a Wonder - Courtney Gunderson 45
College of Love - Andrew Sorensen 19 As Tall as a Tower - Courtney Gunderson 46
Roommate - Karina Van Dyk 19 Montana - Courtney Gunderson 46
Sports - Karina Van Dyke 20 Crown College - Nicolle Holmgren 47
Football - Daniel Wright 20 Death Penalty - Nicolle Holmgren 48
Omaha - Daniel Wright 20 Why I Like the Mountain Goats - Stephen Johnson 49
Three Haikus - Dr. Bret Wightman 21 Sinai - Rachel Jones 50
Crown College - Hunter Jontz 51
Assorted Poems Nature’s Beauty - Hunter Jontz 52
Parents - Hunter Jontz 53
Crown - Elijah Berscheid 24 Dispare Awaits - Isabel Korns 54
Faith - Elijah Berschied 25 Midlife Crisis - Isabel Korns 54
Elections 2016 - Danielle Roberts 18 Peace Reigns - Isabel Korns 55
Politics - Caleb Schluessler 18 Young Leaders - Isabel Korns 56
Politics - Levi Magruder 18 A Smile So Bright - Psalms Lee 57
Home to All - Ebony Schultz 19 Color of my Skin - Psalms Lee 58
The Invisible Monarchy - Ebony Schultz 19 Hopeless Words - Psalms Lee 59
College of Love - Andrew Sorensen 19 The Beauty of a Smile - Psalms Lee 59
Roommate - Karina Van Dyk 19 The Society - Psalms Lee 60
Sports - Karina Van Dyke 20 The Burden of My Chains - Psalms Lee 60
Football - Daniel Wright 20 Thoughts - Psalms Lee 61

142 143
 Short Stories
The Beauty Queen - Tess Ler 63
Alice in Neverland - Tiffany Maddox 64 The Interview - Tatum Beynon 102
Crown College - Tiffany Maddox 65 Joke - Bailey Harkins 104
Faith - Tiffany Maddox 66 The Summer Morning - Hunter Jontz 110
Faith - Levi Magruder 67 Goodnight Lucas- Cassandra Kalpin 111
Moments of Silence... - Levi Magruder 68 A Roman Holiday - Alex Kuiper 113
Politics - Lathan Martin 69 Six Points Two Minutes - David Lindburg 119
Who was I? - Hannah McFarland 70 Notes that Broke - Tiffany Maddox 121
Sonnet, Crown - Jared Musser 72 What If ? - Levi Magruder 122
The Beginning - Jared Musser 73 Place in My Soul - Lathan Martin 124
Jump - Joel Navam 74 Street Lights and Chicken Bites - Nick McCormick 125
Deep Roots - Blade Porterfield 76 A Grey Clump in the Sky - Blade Porterfield 128
Home - Blade Porterfield 76 Life or Death - J.P. Pressley 129
My Life in a Minnesota College - Blade Porterfield 77 Memories of Shadow - Gabrielle Schulenberg 136
Racial Bias Still Exists - J.P. Pressley 78 Infliction - Ebony Schultz 137
Childhood - Natalie Redinger 79 Adrift - Stephen Thiessen 138
Imagination - Natalie Redinger 79 School is Out - Anna Vickers 139
The Screams of Unfulfillment - Danielle Roberts 80 John Smith - Anonymous 140
My Mom Sonnet - Gabrielle Schulenberg 81 Bill in IT - Anonymous 141
Sonnet of Crown - Gabrielle Schulenberg 81
To Save Us All - Gabrielle Schulenberg 82
To Crown - Gabrielle Schulenberg 82
Faith - Ebony Schultz 83
Raining Pain - Amelia Sliefert 84
The Forlorn Past - Andrew Sorensen 86
Our Crown Home - Stephen Thiessen 87
Fall - Stephen Thiessen 87
For Dad - Stephen Thiessen 88
An Authentic Community - Karina Van Dyke 89
Granparent Sonnet - Karina Van Dyke 90
What is Freedom? - Karina Van Dyke 90
Crown - Anna Vickers 91
Invested - Anna Vickers 92
Mending Lacerations - Allyson Walsh 93
Forest Fires - Allyson Walsh 93
No Mas Amor - Allyson Walsh 94
Severance - Allyson Walsh 94
Wide Wishing, Without Wondering - Daniel Wright 95
Authentic Community - Anonymous 96
Beats - Anonymous 97
Fallen Leaves- Anonymous 98
Card Games - Anonymous 99

144 145
 Picture by Don Bouchard

Special Thanks to Martin Luther College Print Services

Lead Editor Amberle Copeland is a senior in the English
Department at Crown College. She brings her love of writing and
editing all the way from Cambodia, SEA, where she lived for over
12 years. After graduation, she hopes to secure a position with a
publishing company, specifically within the editorial field.

Project Manager Robin Holmquist is graduating Crown College

after three years thanks to high school classes with college credit.
She grew up outside a small town in central Minnesota, where a
love of reading and exploring was fostered in her. After finishing
her studies in Communications, she looks forward to more learning
in a work environment.

Editor Hannah McFarland grew up in a small town in eastern

Montana. She is a freshman pursuing her bachelor’s degree in
Psychology. Though she now lives in Iowa she still responds to her
nickname “Hannah from Montana”. Her plans for the future
are not very well defined beyond graduation, but her dream job
involves caring for children with special needs.

Editor Alex Kuiper is a Sophomore in Crown college, pursuing

a double major in English and Communications. He grew up in
the suburbs of Minneapolis. He became interested in writing at
an early age, and has always borne an aggressive preference for
the works of Shakespeare. As for what comes next, he says, “it’s
all up to the Lord.”

Lead Designer Stephen Thiessen is a sophomore in the

communications department at Crown College. He grew up in
Big Lake, Minnesota. He has always been inspired by God’s
creativity and loves the way God has gifted humans with the
capacity to create. After Crown, he wants to work in the area of
marketing and advertising.