Professional Documents
Culture Documents
McCarrol TR 5 14 19
McCarrol TR 5 14 19
McCarrol TR 5 14 19
39th Edition 20 19
individuals who put a lot of hard work into making this edition the best it
could be. We thank Professor Jones for his guidance and advice on putting
the magazine together and editing the selected submissions; Lisa Sheirer
and her students for designing the layout and cover; Cheryl Peterson for
production; and our fellow editors, Bryce Kelley and Kat Reyes, for helping
us review each piece with close attention to detail. Lastly, we want to thank
everybody who submitted content for this year’s edition. Without you none of
this would have been possible.
With this year now behind us, we look forward to passing the torch to the
next editorial board. For next year’s edition, we have added two new
elements. The first is that we are now officially including a “creative non-fic-
MISSION STATEMENT tion” category for submissions; we want to hear your stories told by you. The
second is that we are including a section on the submission form where
The mission of the Frederick Community College magazine of the creative you have the opportunity to tell us what inspired you to write the piece. With
arts, the Tuscarora Review, is to provide an annual showcase for the these new additions, we hope to broaden the content of future editions of
outstanding literary and visual art created by the Collge community. the Tuscarora Review. Now, without further delay, please enjoy the 39th
edition of the Tuscarora Review!
Submiission infromation for the 2020 edition is available at:
www.frederick.edu/tuscarorareview Kayla Swain & Draven Vasquez
Co-Editors in Chief
J ane Menker, Associate Professor of
Nursing (November 17, 1957-
November 15, 2018) Faculty Advisor
Jane started her college career as a Ramón Jones, Assistant Professor, English
student at FCC and attained an
Associate’s of Science degree. She
transferred to the University of Co-Editors-in-Chief
Maryland and obtained a Bachelor’s of Kayla Swain and Draven Vasquez
Science in Nursing degree in 1979 and
received a Master of Science in Nursing
in 1985. Jane taught at FCC for fourteen Associate Editors
years. She was an extremely influential Bryce Kelley and Kat Reyes
nurse and educator. Students felt
fortunate and blessed to have had her as
an instructor. They were glad to have the Design and Layout
opportunity and grateful for everything To Be Determined
that she taught and did for them while
they were studying nursing. Jane inspired
them while sharing her love and passion Production
for the nursing profession. Lisa Sheirer, Professor, Program Manager,
Her accomplishments include Computer Graphics and Photography
teaching thirteen different courses at the College, developing and
reconstructing existing courses in the nursing program, and mentoring junior
faculty and students seeking their Master’s degree in nursing. On May 4, Production Staff
2015, FCC’s Career and Technology Advisory Council presented Jane with Cheryl Peterson, Academic Office Manager, English Department
the Award of Excellence for outstanding
contribution to career and technology in the nursing program. In addition to Photography
her contributions to the nursing department, Jane served on various College John Doe
committees and as a clinical nurse she fostered a relationship between FCC
and Frederick County through Frederick Memorial Healthcare.
Jane will be missed dearly by colleagues, students, friends, and family. Printer
To Be Determined
DRAWING
Francis Garcia .......................Owl ......................................................................ii
Debbi Jacobi ..........................Narrative ............................................................ 9
Paola Dumadag . ...................Crystal Orbit . ............................................. 20-21
Alexis Jones ...........................Studio Still Life................................................ 27
Jack Vernon ...........................Geisha Family .................................................. 28
Rebekah Smith . ....................Portrait ............................................................. 33
Abby Mills . .............................Portrait ............................................................. 34
Stephanie Freniere.................Left Behind at the Bottom of the Box .......40-41
Kelsey McClung .....................Untitled ............................................................ 49
Jack Vernon ...........................Withheld .................................................... 52-53
"W oah, your eyes are really puffy, Shino,” I said, glancing over “Okay, let’s go get it then.” We left the exhibit. Outside, the sun was
setting. Shino was slowly trailing behind me, still unbothered. We got to the
at her.”We were at an opening for one of our friend’s art car and I pulled on the passenger side handle but it wouldn’t budge. “Where
exhibit. The main are the keys?” I asked.
ceremony was over and we were all ushered into the lobby for “Here.” She tossed the keys to me. I unlocked the door and rummaged
cocktail hour but there were no cocktails. All the guests were in through the glove compartment. I couldn’t find the allergy
semi-formal attire, walking around and mingling. It was annoying, medicine anywhere.
“Where is it?” I asked.
standing amongst the crowd of fake posh people, but I had to sup- “In the glove box maybe,” she replied, still holding her plate of food. She
port my friend. stuffed food into her mouth, munching away furiously like someone was
Shino and I stayed glue to the refreshment table. Broke college students going to steal the plate from her. I wanted to knock it from her hand.
and free food: the greatest pair since PB&J. “That’s where I’m looking,” I said. “I don’t see it.” I looked in the backseat,
“No way,” Shino said, poking her upper eyelid. under the seats, everywhere a bottle of medicine could be.
“Ha ha, it’s soft and squishy.” “Then I probably don’t have any more.” She’s still eating.
“What did you even eat?” I asked Shino as she filled her tiny plate for the “Fine. Get in the car.”
third time. I was on my fourth plate. “Why?” She finally looked up from her plate. Not because she was possibly
Shino pointed to the veggie platter on the far side of the refreshments table. going to keel over at any moment but because she finished her last finger
“Carrots,” she said. “I had, like, three.” sandwich. She hadn’t even offered me any.
“I didn’t even know they had veggies,” I said, putting my plate down. And I was here trying to save her life.
“Aren’t you allergic to carrots?” “So we can go get you some medicine, Shino! I can’t leave you here and
“Well, yes and no.” have you go into anaphylactic shock in front of all these people!”
I stopped her from reaching for another piece of cheesecake. “What does “What kind of allergy medicine do you take?” We were on the road now,
that even mean? Are you allergic or not?” I turned her so she could face me. the closest pharmacy was Walgreens, a mile away.
Her swollen eyes had gotten large and the beginnings of a rash had spread “Zyrtec, please. I hate Benadryl. Touch my skin.” She was poking at her
along her collarbone. eyelid. “It’s so soft, like a baby.”
“I am, kind of,” she said. “I guess.” “Stop touching your eyes. You’ll make it worse.” I swatted her hand away
“Then why would you eat three whole carrots if you’re allergic to them?” I from her face.
was nearly screaming and a few people had turned in our direction. “But it’s so soft!” She continued poking her eyelid.
Shino giggled. “Okay, they weren’t whole carrots. They were baby ones.” “Stop that, please! Is your throat okay, do you feel any tightness?” I pulled
She patted my cheek and sidestepped me to grab that piece of cheesecake I into the Walgreens parking lot.
had stopped her from earlier. Shino coughed. “Not really. It’s just itchy. Could you get me a Pepsi while
“You think it’s funny?” you’re in there?”
“I mean, no,” she said, mouth full of cheesecake. “I’ve just never had this “Sure. And you said Zyrtec, right?”
kind of reaction before.” Graham cracker crust from the fell from her mouth. “Yeah.”
“But you’ve had reactions?” “Okay, stay in the car. I’ll be back.” I went inside, which was practically
“Yes.” She coughed, not seeming to mind that her eyes had swollen to the dead. I rushed over to the medicine aisle and quickly try to find the Zyrtec
size of oranges. She was eating and that’s all that mattered to her. knowing full well that Shino was probably still squishing her fatty eye.
“So why did you eat the carrots?”
“I didn’t want to waste any food! Veggie platters are expensive, ya know.”
Now she was looking at me like I was the crazy one.
“Funerals are also expensive,” I replied.
She’s not the type you’d buy from some fancy auto dealer.
She came from mud and dirt, and a different time, and she drove like it.
Secluded from the world hid the most timeless car ever built, now mine.
I t was a foggy morning in his woods when he woke up. One moment he was
deep in dreamless hibernation, and the next he was aware again. With
consciousness came confusion. Gathering his bearings in the beginning was
she said with all the authority of a small child. The spirit nodded, excited to
see the friend he had only just remembered he had. He thought the stupid
grin may never leave his face.
always an unenjoyable event. The familiarity of the trees and his As she started drawing again he felt a new presence by his side and
surroundings distantly registered in his slowly clearing mind. He could turned excitedly.
remember, now, falling asleep in the lower branches of his beech. He sat up “Hello, Twiggy,” said the newcomer. His dear friend. His best friend. And
and as he placed his hand down to keep his balance, and saw them. Spindly how nice of him to remember his name too, that would’ve bothered him after
wooden fingers attached to equally wooden hands, patched randomly with a while.
bark and lichen. That was… different, he supposed. Upon physical inspection “Brin!” Twiggy exclaimed, the name coming to him without much thought.
he could feel that the rest of his body and even his face had received similar Brin sat beside Twiggy and the human child. He looked like a mound of
treatment to his hand. Not bad. A little on the nose, but not bad. earth covered in moss and leaves. In his leafy hair there was an upturned
He was pulled from his self-inspection when he noticed movement from birds nest, a sort of woodsy hat. Twiggy pointed this out gleefully between
the corner of his vision. Others of his kind were rising now, pulling through laughs and try as he might, Brin couldn’t be mad. None of them could. Not
their respective trees and bushes. He had been the first, then. He couldn’t now, at least. They were awake! Alive! And for as long as they were, there was
help but grin at the realization. He had never been the first to wake before. fun to be had.
The first believed in. It was flattering and he was excited to meet the human ___
responsible for his rise. He gripped the branch tight with both hands and
swung himself down to the forest floor, leaves crunching And fun they did have. Over the years their lovely little girl (named Sarah,
beneath root-like feet. they had learned) believed in many more lost spirits of their woods. The
He found the small human girl not even ten feet from the base of his tree, woods became filled with trolls and river folk, will-o-the-wisps and, on one
laying on the ground with a book opened in front of her. Already, there were notable occasion, a large stone lizard-looking creature, who she named
a few other curious tree spirits gathered around her. Bark-skinned and leafy Gargoyle. He could not remember his name and, in fact, many were
haired others would approach at regular intervals, thank the girl profusely, convinced he was entirely new.
and then wander off in search of friends and fun. She remained oblivious to They played with Sarah nearly every day. Tag, hide and seek, and whatever
it all. She may believe with all of her little girl heart in them, but humans still game she thought up otherwise. She could not see them, but one of the best
couldn’t see. The ones that did usually went crazy… or at least everyone else things about children was their willingness to believe in whatever they
thought they were. wanted. If she believed her friends were playing too then that was good
The newly revived tree spirit pushed himself to the front of the crowd and enough for her.
knelt by the girl. She looked no more than seven or eight years old. The She lived in a small cottage that she stayed in even after her parents’
spirit smiled. It was almost always the children that brought them back. She passing when she was in her mid forties. Time moved on but her belief
was wearing a pink, flowered dress with dirt and grass stains all over it. Her stayed steady. Twiggy and Brin would often visit her home on the days she
messy brown hair was in a pony tail and her nose was scrunched in decided to stay home and watch TV or sleep. They watched her shows with
concentration as she read. As they all watched, she moved into a sitting her, drank tea with her, did chores with her. Well, perhaps the last two were
position and closed her book, turning to grab a brown bag from beside her. really just keeping her company while she did them but Twiggy loved to
From it she pulled a sketchbook and colored pencils. watch Sarah live.
It wasn’t long before she had a shaky picture in progress. The others had Then she got older. Twiggy worried after her. Each day brought with it a new
lost interest by this point, wandering away in bits and pieces until he was the ache, a new wrinkle, a new forgotten friend. She visited the woods less and
only one left at the girl’s side. He leaned over her to look at the picture. It less and then, not at all. By the time she was eighty, all but the tree folk had
was a drawing of him! She was no professional by any means but the picture fallen back into the earth, asleep. The memories of her belief could only hold
was indisputably him. She added the last twig poking from his leafy head them there for so long. These humans were the hardest to accept.
The old woman named Sarah that had been brought in yesterday
afternoon (with nothing) was dead when the doctor went to check on her the
next morning. She had a faint smile on her face and in her hands she held
an orange maple leaf. Everyone he asked hadn’t the slightest clue as to how
it had gotten there.
___
It was a sunny day three weeks later, when the last two tree spirits, Twiggy
and Brin, were settling within their beech tree to fall asleep. It was the same
Christmas 2012
Marlboros and dollar store perfume. That was the trademark scent of my
aunt. My family always knew when she was over because we could we smell
it before and after her arrival. She was wearing a denim jacket, with Winnie Rushing
the Pooh embroidered on the back, and denim jeans. I was standing near Bryce Kelley
the medicine cabinet, fulfilling my role as gatekeeper. She handed me a
box wrapped in cheap gold plastic paper. The contents of the box included 7:46, Slamming the door to my car
a baby pink Snuggie and a reading light. “I saw this deal on the television,”
she explained, “and thought of you.” The reason why is still unknown. After 7:47, Now stuck behind a school bus
taking a shot or two of cola and vodka, my aunt gave each person one last
hug goodbye. A month later, she would be sitting with the Lord who she loved 7:48, Behind schedule by far
as much as us.
7:49, Have to stop at every sign
March 29th, 2013
I crossed paths with her again. I was inside Walmart with my best friend, 7:50, I just need the bus to turn
picking out ice cream for that night’s sleepover. As my friend and I roamed
the aisles, a coloring book caught my attention. I wandered back to the 7:51, Gotta keep my cool and it’ll all be fine
vacant aisle, ready to make this unnecessary purchase, and that’s when
scent of Marlboros and dollar store perfume shook my insides. I ran down 7:52, Now! The bus is off and I blast past
the aisles, attempting to find her, or at least a woman impersonating her. The
pit in my stomach would take hours to go away. 7:53, Twenty, Thirty, Forty!
January 28th, 2018 7:54, I drive down the long backroad fast
It’s been exactly five years since she left us. She came to hang out for a little
while tonight. I was planted on the couch, ready to watch the Grammys. This 7:55, I round corners and pump the brakes
was the only night of television that I insisted on watching live. Two hours
into the music awards, my house’s temperature started to replicate that of 7:56, Past St. John’s and nearly there
outside. During a commercial break, I went to find another blanket to throw
on top of me. The mess of my bedroom was an illustration of my mind at that 7:57, Wait at the stoplight, my heart aches!
moment. I didn’t find a blanket. The announcers of the Grammys faintly told
me it was time to start watching again but I was blanketless. As I passed the 7:58, So close! I’m right at the gate!
linen closet, I ran into the scent of Marlboros and dollar store perfume. The
pit in my stomach returned after its five-year hiatus. Shaking, I grabbed the 7:59, I’m one turn away!
handle of the closet door. Making eye contact with me was a baby pink Snug-
gie I hadn’t seen since it was given to me. The announcers on TV remind- 8:00, oh... I’m already late...
ed me again that I needed to rush downstairs. The hairs on my arm stuck
straight up as I snagged the blanket from its hiding. My feet dragged down
the steps, sliding as I got to the television. Wrapped in the Snuggie my aunt
had given me, I watched Logic perform his song “1-800-273-8255.”
A song that could have saved my aunt’s life.
Istood at the edge of the pier studying the scenery in front of me. A cool
breeze blew my dark brown hair softly behind me, the air still warm enough
that it didn’t feel like fall yet. I leaned against the wooden rail, careful not to
“Don’t be. I saw one of your pieces at the gallery showing last week, I was
impressed. It reminded me of Rafael’s School of Athens,” I told him as his
gaze wandered back at me. Niklaus looked sharply at me. Before Kol could
get my black lace sleeves from my dress caught on the chips in the wood. I give his thanks he interjected, “When
shifted the weight between both my feet to provide some relief to the did you go to an art opening?” "I huffed. I was
discomfort of the nude pumps I wore. I ignored his question as I watched Kol
The lake in front of me looked black as if hiding its secrets. The expanse of walk away to get our drinks. I turned getting frustrated
water seemed infinite until it reached the silhouetted strip of land lined with back to look at my menu, before
trees. The sun was setting behind the strip, its yellow light reaching toward responding, “The other night when but didn’t want
me. The sun’s halo was dark orange morphing into shades of pink, finally you were working late, an old college
turning into mixtures of violet and blue at the pinnacle of the sky.
I closed my eyes for a second, taking in the sharp crisp air when I felt a
friend owns a gallery. I to show it."
recommended Kol to her, she loved
hand come to rest on my shoulder. his pieces, and showcased them.”
“Alright, my love, the wait staff has our table ready, are you?” “Why?”
“Always,” I replied turning to him. He always reminded me of “I was bored. He mentioned an art auction his friends were hosting. I went
Michelangelo’s David. His tall, slender but muscular figure, tense but while you had to work late. I bought one of his sculptures. He has potential.”
relaxed, always with a brooding pensive face. I turned my head away so that “I suppose that’s true. But why do you care? And I don’t remember seeing a
his kiss landed on my check. I reached up to straighten his slim black tie sculpture in the loft.”
then he turned to stand next to me. He bent his arm and tucked my hand “It’s small and somewhere on a shelf.”
loosely in the nook of his elbow before bringing both hands down to tightly “Anyways, I’ve been working on this case and I have to say, I’m feeling well
grip my clutch and moved a pace ahead. We walked off the pier and onto the with our chances for the trial next week,” he snickered before saying, “I enjoy
perpendicular stone walkway. Following the path into the upscale modern this challenge, my job was getting too easy.”
glass restaurant that resided on the corner, separate from all the other “That’s great,” I said before thinking about how to go about
eateries lining the walkway. this impending conversation.
As soon as we entered through the glass doors, Kol, our usual waiter, Kol came by with our drinks, we gave him our orders and then he was gone
guided us to a table by a window with a view of the pier. It wasn’t our usual with our menus.
table. Ours was taken by an elderly couple celebrating their anniversary. Kol I took a big swallow of the cocktail focusing on the burn of the gin down my
was Bernini’s David. Where Niklaus had methodical blue eyes and pale skin, throat before saying,
Kol had an olive complexion with complementary green eyes freckled with “I’ve been thinking about my birthday.”
understanding in his sharp Greco-Roman facial proportions. Earthier, more “I’m looking forward to it. I have a few surprises planned.”
attainable. His voice was deep but his hands gentle. His hands were swift “I don’t want to celebrate it.”
and graceful as he pulled out my chair. He chuckled.
I walked behind Kol, my shoulder softly grazing against his crisp white “You’re funny. Of course you do.”
dress shirt as to sit in the chair from the other side. He pushed me in just as “No, I really don’t.”
Niklaus sat in his chair across from me. Niklaus and I grabbed our red silk “Be serious.”
napkin and placed them on our lap as he made his way to the center of the “I am, Nik.”
table. He handed us our menus, his hand gently brushing against mine and “Please,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice as he leaned back
giving me a quick wink and my breath got caught in my throat. in his chair and looked away from the table for a second. He looked back
We both looked at Niklaus and he asked, “An old fashioned with a furrowed brow and huffed out a deep breath.
and a Tom Collins?”
She sprinkles it
Into her glass
Add water
Directions state
Particles
Sparkle
Magical
Drink it
Doctor’s Orders
Cancer
Killer
Willing to do
Anything
Even believe in
Fairy Dust
Dre Docerson, drink- Mixed Media
I clamber down the trail, sliding between trees and stretching my stumpy
legs over large gray and white rocks. My gaze glued to the ground and my
feet testing each step. Breathing labored, brow damp, and legs shaking, I
“You,” he replies, sliding his hand down to cover my eyes.
I snort, swat his hand away, and then ask, “Did you get them?”
“Ye of little faith,” he says, wrenching his other hand from its pocket and
reach my destination: a red brick shack with a tin roof that sits in the middle flipping his wrist up to reveal a pack of Marlboro Reds and a Bic lighter
of the path. The dynamite shack. I smile and let out a breathy laugh. Hasn't decorated with an American flag. Heartbeat elevated and wide eyes locked
changed a bit. I push off a tree and bound over to the structure. My palms on the cigarettes I unwind my arms from Joseph's neck then drop, landing
and fingertips smack against the warm brick and my head tilts up, surveying on my feet with a thud and a stumble. Once I balance myself I snatch the
everything from the cracking foundation to the peeling roof. Reds and lighter and spin away from him, walking back to the shack. Joseph
When I was little I used to come up here once every summer with my follows, hands back in pockets and head tucked to his chest watching his
nature camp. The counselors would lead us into the shack and tell us tales blacked-out Chucks kick at the pebble-speckled dirt. “You and I both know
of how the water-logged quarry, which rests directly below, came to be, and the Quarry Creature isn’t real,” he says. “So why are we doing this?”
on occasion they spun us a scary story about the Quarry Creature; a scaled I sit down, cross legged, back pressed against the shack, and reply,
monster that calls the quarry pond its home and loves the smell of ciga- “Because we can,” I put the lighter down beside me then use both hands to
rette smoke. If anybody lights a cigarette near the pond the Quarry Creature rip the plastic paper from the cigarette pack. My eyes refuse to meet Jo-
swims up from the depths of the quarry and pulls them under, never to be seph’s. “And because this might be our last chance.”
seen again. The narrative gave me chills as a child but not so much anymore. Joseph laughs, raises his head then says, “Our last chance to what? Tempt
A few years ago I told it to my own group of bulging eyed, mouth an imaginary monster?” He laughs again.
gaped campers. Smart ass. I tuck my head to my chest and stick my gaze to my lap then
“I will never understand what you like so much about this place,” says a reply, “No. To do something stupid together,” the lump returns to my throat.
male voice behind me. Dammit. I crumple up the plastic wrapping and shove it in the back pocket of
My heart drops to my stomach and I whip around, palms scraping along my frayed cut-offs.
the brick. Not enough to bleed but enough to sting. Before me stands a lanky With a sigh Joseph plops down beside me and stretches his legs out
teenager, hands stuffed in the pockets of his shredded black skinny jeans before him. He then picks up the lighter and slips the Reds from my slack
and a tuft of dyed black hair concealing his right eye. His thin, pink lips smirk grip, opening the pack and sliding two cigarettes out with his mouth. I guess
and his visible eye glimmers with mischief. Joseph. My heart jumps back to we’re not talking about what I just said. Keeping the cigarettes clamped
my chest and I bolt for him, a smile threatening my pursed lips. When close between his teeth he closes the pack and tosses it away from us. I’ll pick
enough I leap onto him, throwing my arms around his neck, almost sending it up before we leave. Don’t wanna freak the campers out too bad. Joseph
us both to the ground. With my face buried in his chest I say, “I hate when brings the lighter to his mouth and flicks the red ignition button twice with his
you do that!” thumb. A flame sparks. I flinch. And he moves the flame across the ends of
He tugs one hand out of its pocket then pats the top of my head. Smiling I both cigarettes, lighting them. One stays clasped in his teeth and the other
tighten my hold on him. While in nature camp and even after we became he places between my middle and fore finger. It wasn't supposed to be like
counselors Joseph never missed an opportunity to greet me with a scare. this. We should be joking and laughing like we always are. Why can’t
However, after his last greeting ended with me in the pond and himself goodbyes be easier? My eyes well with tears and my lower lip trembles. I lift
being chased around the park with water balloons and hoses by displeased my head to look him in the eye then say, “I’m gonna miss you.”
eleven to thirteen year olds, he quit. He never told me why, but I assume it’s Joseph takes a long drag from his cigarette. I clench my free hand into a
because he realized that one day he might scare me into a harmful situation. fist and swallow hard. Say something. Anything. Please. He snaps the
That, or little kids intimidate him. My smile grows. He must be feeling cigarette from his mouth then says, “It’s only New York and I’ll be back for
nostalgic, graduation far behind us and our college careers beginning in less winter break and summer too.” Smoke pours from his lips and nose. Okay,
than a month. College. Hard to believe he’s leaving tomorrow. A lump forms maybe not anything.
in my throat and my smile falters. Tears stream down my face; I punch the ground and say, “We’re not gonna
see each other for months! Doesn’t it bother you that we might lose touch?”
T he silver Toyota Camry careened off the side of the cliff, flying through the
night air then smashing into a tree, shattering the windshield. The car fell,
rear-end tilting down. The back slammed into the dirt and for a
moment, the car stood there without moving. Then it fell onto its roof
shattering the remaining windows.
Inside the car, Aaron regained consciousness. Still in the driver’s seat,
suspended upside down by his seatbelt. The left side of his face covered
in deep cuts hidden by copious amounts of blood. Looking left, he noticed
Sabrina, his girlfriend, was missing from the passenger seat.
“Sabrina!” he screamed. “Sabrina where are you!” Silence.
Aaron attempted to undo his seatbelt, but his weight on it prevented the
latch from releasing. He reached for the glove compartment, in which was
the emergency seatbelt cutter his mother had gotten him. He flipped open
the compartment and the cutter fell to the roof. He grabbed it and cut the
seatbelt. Aaron fell onto the glass covered roof. The shards tore into Aaron’s
side, causing him to cry out in pain and releasing more blood onto him. He
crawled out the driver side window, the jagged glass tearing through his
hands, and he laid on his back on the cold, wet grass.
The front of the Camry was bent into a V-shape and smoke rose from
underneath the hood. Both headlights were smashed leaving the scene in
darkness. Broken glass lay everywhere in the grass. Aaron reached into his
pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding,”
he muttered. Aaron took off his blood-stained shirt and laid it on the inside
of the roof before he crawled in to find his phone somewhere in the bloody
glass. He found it behind the gas pedal. He then reached into the backseat
for his jacket to protect himself from the cold, winter air. He got out of the car
Ryan English, Prince- Painting
and turned it on. The screen was broken, but the phone lit up.
He dialed Sabrina.
The line rang four times before Sabrina’s voice came through the phone
crystal clear and calm. “Hey, this is Sabrina—”
“Goddammit,” Aaron muttered.
“Sorry I can’t get to phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to
you as soon as I can.” A beep sounded, and Aaron punched the side
of the car.
He checked around the car for footprints but couldn’t find any on the cold
hard ground. Aaron turned on his flashlight and checked inside the car again
for anything he could use to figure out what had happened; her shoes were
missing but her jacket was stuffed behind her seat. The passenger side seat
belt was undone, and her phone was not in the car.
Aaron crawled back out of the car and pointed the flashlight at the cliff he
had drove off. The protruding jagged rocks casted shadows on the wall.
I’m so in love
with this miniature face,
my special place Part Two
to go when I am needed. Was it all a dream?
he is peppermint, sweet The sweetness, it seems,
his head a little gold peach. becomes a dragon that is released.
The tiniest of breathing, Then there are times I tiptoe near
his swollen round cheeks. if you will allow me
I’m betrothed a quick kiss or caress,
to his well-being. to hold you for a second that lasts forever,
His curious little hand before you run from me.
reaching to me I am no longer your castle
earnestly. nor your queen,
It is an ambition to know but just a lowly grey stone,
life is no longer or so it seems.
just plowing through. This is only because
There is this bundle to tow. you are now thirteen.
I must carry him gently yet firmly
and keep him tilted toward the sun But when you are asleep
to grow. you are mine again
slipping into that melted softness,
your cheeks are again plump,
your half smile, tender
to innocence, surrender.
I only have until dawn
before you grow up,
before you wake up…
Chris Redfield, Claire-Drawing
Professor Moreland: Yeah, little characters made from tin. Out of roofing
materials. Old barns.
Professor Moreland: I’ve only been in the faculty show each time it’s
happened since I started teaching here. I’ve shown all over the country but,
I had a gallery in Washington DC for a while. I’ve shown at the Delaplaine
D avid Moreland grew up on a farm in Iowa knowing he wanted to be an several times here in downtown. I still pursue that a little bit but it’s not my
artist by eighth grade. He aspired to be a painter although he was very primary focus. I’m mostly interested in making it not so much showing it.
much interested in music and the performing arts.
Receiving a football scholarship allowed him to go to college although he Tuscarora Review: Have you sold anything?
faced a bit of conflict between art and sports. He persisted and majored in
painting and drawing, completing undergraduate work at the Professor Moreland: Yes, just a little bit. I’ve never been a great business
University of Iowa. artist. When I left Idaho to come to the East Coast, I had a gallery in
Professor Moreland decided to go to graduate school after teaching high Washington DC and sold a piece. It sold for three thousand dollars and
school for a short period “A very long time ago,” he states. After teaching people say ‘Wow. That’s a lot of money’. Well, the gallery took half of that.
high school, he decided he wanted to go on teaching but in college instead. Fifteen hundred dollars doesn’t get you very far. I missed the art piece so
Attending the University of Wisconsin, he received a Master of Fine Arts. much, I made one for myself in memory of the one sold. I rather keep a lot of
Hired from Wisconsin to teach at the University of Idaho, where his college the pieces that I have. I like having them around, having them there.
teaching career began, David Moreland spent 15 years there and then
moved to the East Coast. He has been teaching and making art ever since. Tuscarora Review: You have some nice pieces here.
*Motioning to artwork around office*
Tuscarora Review: Your interest first started in performing arts and
music. What made you shift into painting?
Tuscarora Review: What classes do you teach? Tuscarora Review: All those time periods, do they inspire your art, or do
you get inspiration from other things?
Professor Moreland:
My background is painting and Professor Moreland: I’ve had a couple of exhibitions here at the Delaplaine
drawing. Upon moving to the East that I entitled Art History as Muse. The inspiration is coming directly out of
Coast, I was teaching exclusively Art History. When I wasn’t teaching art history for a while, I started doing
courses in drawing and painting narrative about the entire history of art. I could go through it and see it
at other schools. Initially at FCC I happen and I’ve done a lot of that.
was teaching drawing. The person Like that little reprusé up there is the Venus of Willendorf on the left and a
Tuscarora Review: I like the colors on there. Professor Moreland: I think that Taj Mahal did that. It’s such an iconic
building. People say it’s the most beautiful building in the world. The day we
Professor Moreland: It’s Pollock-esque. You could all do one if you wanted were there it was kind of a foggy day. It had an ethereal quality of looming
to. In my creative arts class I used to have everybody do a Jackson Pollock out of the mist. As you approached it, it got clearer. That was a real
painting. We would go off to another room, I’d give them a board and they spectacular and moving place to be. I was thrilled to be there. Just getting
would do a Pollock-like painting. They could do anything they wanted if they the was the exciting part. India was such an amazing place. You should go
were splattering and spilling the paint. there some time.
Annie gave me some shells because a mussel colony is a fractal
organization and she was going to go to California to present the Pollock Tuscarora Review: Any other facts you want to share?
presentation that we had done. She wanted to give Mussel shells out to
everyone who came to her presentation with a Pollock on them. The students Professor Moreland: I’ve kept all these past issues of the Tuscarora Review.
put them next to the ones they were working on and spilled the paint over on I’ve just been collecting them since I’ve been full time.
the shells as they were working on their paintings. They were beautiful.
Tuscarora Review: I took creative writing at the same time I was taking
Tuscarora Review: With all this art history from around the world you your art history class and a lot of things we talked about inspired my
teach, do you do much travel? writing. I wrote a piece which mentioned the Renaissance and
Michelangelo. I wrote another piece and it talked about Starry Night and
Professor Moreland: Ever since I was an undergraduate, in between my what you would say about the meaning of death.
sophomore and junior year in college, I did what people call a grand tour of
Europe. I was able to go to Europe on five dollars a day. Guidebooks. I did a
broad sweeping overview of European Countries. I went into Africa and North
Africa that time also.
Tuscarora Review: I write then I’ll leave it alone. I come back with a
clear mind and change things.
Tuscarora Review: When you’ve done art have you ever had an idea
and then when you were getting to that point it changes into something
completely different than what you had intended?
A mazing the stuff, we collect. It does not seem like much until you have to
go through someone else’s belongings. The little notes she kept, the odd
receipt, clothes that did not fit. That she was waiting to get to the right size
to wear again. Photographs of a life and a lifetime that is not mine. I do not
think about the stuff I collect. I doubt any of us do. None of us think, wow,
someone will have to sift through everything about my life when I am gone.
Even if you prepare and have the time to go through it, how do you let go of
the children’s artwork when they were five? How do you let go of the
treasured book you read repeatedly or that sweatshirt that just feels so good
on your skin?
Her death has forced me to go through stuff. Both hers and mine. A life is
contained in the memories that are collected. The silly hats we bought to
wear on a holiday, the Halloween bin that had our special bucket for candy,
the flyers from all the plays we saw together. Ashes, hers, our dog and cat. Is
she still there in those ashes? The tears that she shed when the dog died.
Part of her heart broke. Regretting that I did not know how to ease her pain.
Her forgiving me. The doctor notes with all of the diagnosis. Do I keep
those? They were only a piece of who she was. I box things up. I give things
away. I know her and she would want someone to benefit from what she
cannot use. But the mementos, the key chain or silly cards. Those I am
unsure what to do.
Three years have passed. At first, I thought I could not breathe. For so long
I could not breathe and was walking underwater. I could not listen to my
children, would lose myself in my job. I stopped talking. She was not here to
listen. I did not know that I would breathe again. That I would laugh again and
Aapril Hope, Coffee- Photo
even love again. There are no words for those of us who have been broken.
We have a secret language among us those that have lost and grieved. A
society none of us wants to join but will all become a member of. I heard that
once you join, you would view the world differently. It was just speculation.
Seeing the world differently is an understatement. Nothing will ever be the
same again. That is okay. I have fought it. Every box I pack up now and
memories that visit me are like welcome friends. Making it bearable.
I know the day will come when it will not hurt as much and I will not
remember as much. I look forward and dread it.
Katherine Jones: I was born and raised in Frederick, Maryland. I love writing
and photography/film and one day hope to share my stories with the world
through these two forms. In the fall 2019, I will be attending Towson
University and studying Electronic Media and Film to continue my dream of
being a writer for TV/film.
Bryce Kelley: I was born and raised in Maryland. I am a student here at FCC
working towards an associate in General Studies. I really enjoy outdoor
activities like hiking and I play Dungeons & Dragons like a big nerd.