Tag: fiction
Starlight
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018
Christmas
by Jessica Polanco ’20
It was 4:30 in the evening and Lorrinda was relieved to go home. It was her first day at work, and she was exhausted. Despite the traffic, she got home just in time to make dinner for her family. Once she entered her home, she headed straight to the kitchen and connected her phone to the aux to play her favorite Christmas song, “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey. She pulled out the pots from under the stove and began prepping some salmon and peeling potatoes. She sang and sang while she cooked so that she forgot about how long and exhausting her first day at work was.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Lorrinda made her way to the front door. Eli and Sophia were pulled into their home by the aroma of the food cooking. They threw their book-packs and jackets to the side and ran into the kitchen. “MOM!!! You’re cooking our favorite dish! YAY!” Their smiles spread from cheek to cheek, and the innocence in their eyes illuminated a warmth in Lorrinda’s heart. “Yes babies,” and gave them both kisses on their foreheads, “how was school?”
“Good mom, today we wrote our letters to Santa. I told him that I want the new Lego collection, and the Heelys in all black. I even promised him that I will make him cookies and milk if he comes mom!” yelled Eli.
“Yeah Mom, it was so fun. I told Santa I wanted a mermaid tale blanket in purple and the Bratz doll collection. I even prayed in my head before I signed it. I’ve been good all year so I think Santa will come Mami!” screamed Sophia.
Lorrinda laughed while she began plating the mashed potatoes. “Oh, I don’t know babies, we’ll see if Santa comes and pays us a visit this Christmas. We can definitely make him some cookies for his visit.”
“I hope so Mami, you say he will come every year but he never does!” pouted Eli.
“I think this Christmas will be a good one, don’t worry.” She said smiling, knowing that this year would be the first year she would be able to make it special for her twins.
During dinner, Joey came in. He was dressed in his construction clothes. Eli and Sophia screamed, “DAD!!!!” He tried to smile back at his family but the exhaustion was married to his facial expression. Lorrinda kissed him and mentioned that his food was in the microwave. “Thank you, my love. I’ma go shower and then come back down to join you guys.”
The Polar Express was playing on the TV once Joey came back downstairs. He grabbed his dinner and joined his family on the blanket laid on the floor. The children began to drowse off and minutes later the snores began to take control of the room. Joey finished his plate and returned to the living room floor. He tucked himself in after checking if Eli and Sophia were good, and smiled proudly. Lorrinda made sure all the Christmas lights were on. As she clicked the Christmas tree lights on, she grinned at the fact that she was finally living the holiday the same way her friends would boast about during this time of the year. She strolled to where the her family laid sound asleep. Lorrinda cuddled behind Sophia and closed her eyes and prayed to her Savior before she fell asleep.
Suddenly, a warm breeze ran through the living room and Sophia woke up crying. Her cries were accompanied by the fire alarm screaming. Joey’s eyes burst open like a dropped eggshell. He jumped up, carried Eli from the floor and yelled “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WE HAVE TO GET OUT NOW!” The fire trucks sirens were getting more and more intimate. Lorrinda finally woke up from her deep sleep, she began crying and whispered,“Why is this happening to us?” She knew she would not get an answer and picked up Sophia from the floor and ran outside. Taking a glance at everything they worked so hard to finally have, her looks kissed them warm goodbyes. Every item she glanced at formed a deeper pond of tears in her vision. It made it harder for her to see and the smoke in the house did not make it any better.
The Calderon’s finally made it outside. They stood shivering above the snow, witnessing their house get watered down, noticing everything had gone with the fire. Eli and Sophia sobbed, the innocence of their eyes left without any warning or remorse. A firefighter approached the family with a long face. “I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Calderon, everything in the house is gone. You and your family are welcome to go to the Crossroads Family Shelter nearby. If you need any transportation, we will be glad to drive you.”
“Thank you,” Joey said, barely. The firefighter continued, “The only thing that survived was the starlight topper from the Christmas tree.”
Starlight
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018
Christmas
by Jessica Polanco ’20
It was 4:30 in the evening and Lorrinda was relieved to go home. It was her first day at work, and she was exhausted. Despite the traffic, she got home just in time to make dinner for her family. Once she entered her home, she headed straight to the kitchen and connected her phone to the aux to play her favorite Christmas song, “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey. She pulled out the pots from under the stove and began prepping some salmon and peeling potatoes. She sang and sang while she cooked so that she forgot about how long and exhausting her first day at work was.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Lorrinda made her way to the front door. Eli and Sophia were pulled into their home by the aroma of the food cooking. They threw their book-packs and jackets to the side and ran into the kitchen. “MOM!!! You’re cooking our favorite dish! YAY!” Their smiles spread from cheek to cheek, and the innocence in their eyes illuminated a warmth in Lorrinda’s heart. “Yes babies,” and gave them both kisses on their foreheads, “how was school?”
“Good mom, today we wrote our letters to Santa. I told him that I want the new Lego collection, and the Heelys in all black. I even promised him that I will make him cookies and milk if he comes mom!” yelled Eli.
“Yeah Mom, it was so fun. I told Santa I wanted a mermaid tale blanket in purple and the Bratz doll collection. I even prayed in my head before I signed it. I’ve been good all year so I think Santa will come Mami!” screamed Sophia.
Lorrinda laughed while she began plating the mashed potatoes. “Oh, I don’t know babies, we’ll see if Santa comes and pays us a visit this Christmas. We can definitely make him some cookies for his visit.”
“I hope so Mami, you say he will come every year but he never does!” pouted Eli.
“I think this Christmas will be a good one, don’t worry.” She said smiling, knowing that this year would be the first year she would be able to make it special for her twins.
During dinner, Joey came in. He was dressed in his construction clothes. Eli and Sophia screamed, “DAD!!!!” He tried to smile back at his family but the exhaustion was married to his facial expression. Lorrinda kissed him and mentioned that his food was in the microwave. “Thank you, my love. I’ma go shower and then come back down to join you guys.”
The Polar Express was playing on the TV once Joey came back downstairs. He grabbed his dinner and joined his family on the blanket laid on the floor. The children began to drowse off and minutes later the snores began to take control of the room. Joey finished his plate and returned to the living room floor. He tucked himself in after checking if Eli and Sophia were good, and smiled proudly. Lorrinda made sure all the Christmas lights were on. As she clicked the Christmas tree lights on, she grinned at the fact that she was finally living the holiday the same way her friends would boast about during this time of the year. She strolled to where the her family laid sound asleep. Lorrinda cuddled behind Sophia and closed her eyes and prayed to her Savior before she fell asleep.
Suddenly, a warm breeze ran through the living room and Sophia woke up crying. Her cries were accompanied by the fire alarm screaming. Joey’s eyes burst open like a dropped eggshell. He jumped up, carried Eli from the floor and yelled “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WE HAVE TO GET OUT NOW!” The fire trucks sirens were getting more and more intimate. Lorrinda finally woke up from her deep sleep, she began crying and whispered,“Why is this happening to us?” She knew she would not get an answer and picked up Sophia from the floor and ran outside. Taking a glance at everything they worked so hard to finally have, her looks kissed them warm goodbyes. Every item she glanced at formed a deeper pond of tears in her vision. It made it harder for her to see and the smoke in the house did not make it any better.
The Calderon’s finally made it outside. They stood shivering above the snow, witnessing their house get watered down, noticing everything had gone with the fire. Eli and Sophia sobbed, the innocence of their eyes left without any warning or remorse. A firefighter approached the family with a long face. “I’m sorry Mr. and Mrs. Calderon, everything in the house is gone. You and your family are welcome to go to the Crossroads Family Shelter nearby. If you need any transportation, we will be glad to drive you.”
“Thank you,” Joey said, barely. The firefighter continued, “The only thing that survived was the starlight topper from the Christmas tree.”
A Christmas to Remember
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018
Christmas
by Julia Zygiel ’19
Black ice stripes the concrete path to our front door. The rest of the snow from the mid-December squall has already melted, but the ice remains, filling my head with visions of broken hips and legs. Our son-in-law has offered time and again to salt the driveway and path, but Lottie always interrupts my “yes please,” insisting that we can do it ourselves, forgetting the fact that neither of us could lift those heavy bags, or push the machine without throwing out our backs. Stubbornly she insists, and stubbornly she has held onto my heart for 51 years.
Ensuring that my steps are rooted, I make it to the door and pat my thighs to remind myself of the small velvet box still burning a hole in my pocket. I enter to a chorus of Merry Christmases. Lottie sits at the head of the table, like she has since our first Christmas in the home we built together. I kneel down next to her seat, and worry briefly that I won’t be able to stand up again. Her knotted fingers caress my cheek, and she smiles coyly, announcing to our descendents that her beautiful boyfriend has finally arrived. I fumble around in my pocket and reveal her engagement ring, swathed in velvet and glowing like the moon. Her hands suppress a gasp and I think I see a flash of recognition in her dark brown eyes. Foolishly, I tell myself she’s remembering my first proposal 46 years ago, the same as this one, only carried out on sturdier limbs.
Before I can ask she whispers yes, beating me to the punch like always. The ring clicks softly as it knocks against her golden wedding band. She doesn’t notice. We kiss, and I am grateful to remain silent. Tears have taken my words hostage. She cries of happiness, and we embrace. The air fills with sighs and sobs of a family that may soon be forgotten.
Believe in Santa
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018
Christmas
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
“Do you believe in Santa, Alexa?” I asked my sister under the sheets of our couch fort. We laid on the cushions eating Santa’s cookies and drinking his milk. Mom and Dad were up in bed already, and I convinced Alexa to stay with me until we saw Santa.
“Harry, that’s a ridiculous question.” My sister laughed and squeezed my hand.
“Why?” Sometimes, I didn’t understand Alexa. Teenagers were always weird. Alexa said so. She said all the guys were smelly and filled with hormones, except her boyfriend. I didn’t know what hormones were, but my parents talked about them a lot too. They said Alexa’s were crazy right now. I thought my sister was the exception, though. She seemed normal to me. Whenever I came home from school, she would play cards with me. She taught me all sorts of cool games, like Gin and Spit. They were more sophisticated than Go Fish and War. Alexa treated me like I was her age, not a little kid like my parents thought.
“Well, Harry, it’s a complicated answer.” She turned her head to look at me. “Do you believe in Santa?”
“Of course! I don’t see how else we’d get all those presents every Christmas. Mom and Dad aren’t that creative to find us gifts like Santa gets us.”
Alexa laughed, “That’s very true.”
“So, do you?” I pressed on. Alexa didn’t seem as into the magic of Christmas this year. When we were decorating the tree, she looked happy, but she kept looking at her phone. She was always calling or texting someone. My parents said it was because she was a teenager and sometimes they forget about having fun, but Alexa loved having fun. She picked out the Christmas tree with us when we had the first snowfall. She and I ran through the rows of trees playing hide and seek. I thought that was fun, but as soon as we got into the car she would pull out her phone.
“Of course, Harry,” Alexa sighed. Her phone buzzed next to her and she quickly sat up to read the text. Immediately, her smile turned around.
I sat up with her and touched her arm, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jake.” Her voice cracked, and I squeezed her arm harder. Jake was her boyfriend. She always talked about him and was texting him. I met him a few times. He seemed cool; he just didn’t like playing with me like Alexa did. He lived next door, so they were always spending time together.
“What about him?”
“He doesn’t understand Christmas like we do, buddy. I don’t think he believes in Santa.” She gave me a smile, trying to keep the mood light.
“Why not?”
“He thinks it’s all stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think we’re lucky someone always wants to bring us toys once a year,” Alexa laughed at that. “And we get to eat lots of good food,” that made her laugh even more. I smiled at her, happy to see her like that. She deserved someone who believed in all the magic like she did. I knew she believed in the magic. Jake was taking that from her this year, and that wasn’t fair to my sister. “He’s probably on the naughty list. You shouldn’t be with someone on the naughty list. He seems stupid.”
Alexa let out a long breath. “I think you’re right, Harry.” A tear fell from her eye, but I quickly brushed it away with one of our blankets and handed her another cookie. “Thanks, buddy.”
“I think we need more cookies for Santa.”
“Let’s get on that then. We’ll quickly make some right now, before Santa comes.” Alexa jumped up and hit her hand on the cushion. I laughed and crawled up with her, “I love you, Harry.” She pulled me in for a strong hug.
“I love you too! But we gotta get going on those cookies if we’re going to make sure Santa gets some! It’s almost midnight!” I shoved away from the hug. “He could be here any minute!” Alexa kept laughing at me. “I’ll go check the Santa tracker on the computer so we know how much time we have.” I started out of the fort, but Alexa caught my arm and pulled me back in for another hug.
“Merry Christmas, Harry.”
“Merry Christmas, Alexa,” I shook my head at my sister. Teenagers were so weird.
Believe in Santa
by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018
Christmas
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
“Do you believe in Santa, Alexa?” I asked my sister under the sheets of our couch fort. We laid on the cushions eating Santa’s cookies and drinking his milk. Mom and Dad were up in bed already, and I convinced Alexa to stay with me until we saw Santa.
“Harry, that’s a ridiculous question.” My sister laughed and squeezed my hand.
“Why?” Sometimes, I didn’t understand Alexa. Teenagers were always weird. Alexa said so. She said all the guys were smelly and filled with hormones, except her boyfriend. I didn’t know what hormones were, but my parents talked about them a lot too. They said Alexa’s were crazy right now. I thought my sister was the exception, though. She seemed normal to me. Whenever I came home from school, she would play cards with me. She taught me all sorts of cool games, like Gin and Spit. They were more sophisticated than Go Fish and War. Alexa treated me like I was her age, not a little kid like my parents thought.
“Well, Harry, it’s a complicated answer.” She turned her head to look at me. “Do you believe in Santa?”
“Of course! I don’t see how else we’d get all those presents every Christmas. Mom and Dad aren’t that creative to find us gifts like Santa gets us.”
Alexa laughed, “That’s very true.”
“So, do you?” I pressed on. Alexa didn’t seem as into the magic of Christmas this year. When we were decorating the tree, she looked happy, but she kept looking at her phone. She was always calling or texting someone. My parents said it was because she was a teenager and sometimes they forget about having fun, but Alexa loved having fun. She picked out the Christmas tree with us when we had the first snowfall. She and I ran through the rows of trees playing hide and seek. I thought that was fun, but as soon as we got into the car she would pull out her phone.
“Of course, Harry,” Alexa sighed. Her phone buzzed next to her and she quickly sat up to read the text. Immediately, her smile turned around.
I sat up with her and touched her arm, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jake.” Her voice cracked, and I squeezed her arm harder. Jake was her boyfriend. She always talked about him and was texting him. I met him a few times. He seemed cool; he just didn’t like playing with me like Alexa did. He lived next door, so they were always spending time together.
“What about him?”
“He doesn’t understand Christmas like we do, buddy. I don’t think he believes in Santa.” She gave me a smile, trying to keep the mood light.
“Why not?”
“He thinks it’s all stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think we’re lucky someone always wants to bring us toys once a year,” Alexa laughed at that. “And we get to eat lots of good food,” that made her laugh even more. I smiled at her, happy to see her like that. She deserved someone who believed in all the magic like she did. I knew she believed in the magic. Jake was taking that from her this year, and that wasn’t fair to my sister. “He’s probably on the naughty list. You shouldn’t be with someone on the naughty list. He seems stupid.”
Alexa let out a long breath. “I think you’re right, Harry.” A tear fell from her eye, but I quickly brushed it away with one of our blankets and handed her another cookie. “Thanks, buddy.”
“I think we need more cookies for Santa.”
“Let’s get on that then. We’ll quickly make some right now, before Santa comes.” Alexa jumped up and hit her hand on the cushion. I laughed and crawled up with her, “I love you, Harry.” She pulled me in for a strong hug.
“I love you too! But we gotta get going on those cookies if we’re going to make sure Santa gets some! It’s almost midnight!” I shoved away from the hug. “He could be here any minute!” Alexa kept laughing at me. “I’ll go check the Santa tracker on the computer so we know how much time we have.” I started out of the fort, but Alexa caught my arm and pulled me back in for another hug.
“Merry Christmas, Harry.”
“Merry Christmas, Alexa,” I shook my head at my sister. Teenagers were so weird.
A Foggy Night
by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2018
Portfolio
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
“Baby, look at me!” I yelled at Daryl behind me. I balanced on the edge of the sidewalk as we found our way home. It was late at night, most likely sometime around 1 a.m. I stopped paying attention to the time at some point or another. We were at a party down the street from our apartment with our friends, but Daryl was getting tired so I agreed to leave. The weather was starting to get bad because of the expected thunderstorms that were coming in the next day, so I wasn’t too opposed to the idea of leaving. In the distance, we heard thunder.
“Can you please start walking normally? You’re going to fall and crack your head open.” Daryl shook his head and jogged up beside me. He took my hand into his own so that I was more stable.
“You’re no fun. What happened to Fun Daryl?” I pouted at him and stopped walking. Recently, he had always been ruining my good mood. I was just trying to be funny, but his abrupt attitude made me get upset. It was happening more and more lately.
“What are you talking about?” He grumbled and let go of my hand. I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I’m the same guy I was when you first met me!” He lifted his hands to show it was still him, but I didn’t recognize his character.
I scoffed at that. That was far from the truth. I had met Daryl at a karaoke bar uptown. My friends had dared me to go up and sing a song, and I was so terribly awful. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, but Daryl had jumped on stage with me and sang the Mamma Mia song by my side. I admired his outgoing personality, and I fell in love with him soon after.
“You changed after you got this new job of yours,” I told him flat out. He needed to hear it, even if he didn’t think it was true.
“Kasey, this is my dream job. I’m writing for the city’s newspaper! I’m so incredibly lucky for this opportunity,” he fought back. He always had to reassure me that that was his dream job, but I knew it wasn’t. He was miserable working nine to five shifts and was too exhausted whenever he came home to spend time together. It was becoming exhausting for me as well.
“Yeah? Then why do you have to keep reminding yourself that?”
“I’m not reminding myself, Kasey. I have to keep telling you because you don’t seem to get it.”
“Whatever, Daryl. I just wanted to have a nice night out with our friends, but those days seem to be over.” I started walking again. It was getting colder out and suddenly a fog had crept in. Dark clouds hung above us, and my feelings mimicked the frothy air.
“The weather’s crappy. It was time to leave anyway.”
I ignored him and kept walking further into the fog. It was thicker than it had been when we left the party. I couldn’t even see the next house a couple yards ahead of me.
“Can you stop walking so fast please, Kase? The weather is getting worse,” Daryl was saying behind me. He was right. I could feel the wind picking up and my hair was blowing everywhere. I wished I had brought my coat, but I figured we weren’t going far from our place. I was also deciding to be stubborn. Daryl wanted to be a buzzkill, so I would be just as annoying back.
“Kasey, seriously!” Daryl started to raise his voice.
“I can’t seem to hear you, Daryl. The wind is just too loud!” I called back to him. I moved deeper into the fog. The grassed courtyard was coming up ahead of us, and we just had to cross that to get to our apartment on Main Street. It was hard to see, though. I felt as if I was walking in the clouds and there wasn’t another soul on the planet. Slowly, drops of water began to fall down on me. I looked up and saw that the sky was swallowed with even more dark clouds.
“Kasey! Stop this. I can’t see you anymore,” Daryl shouted from somewhere behind me. I spun around. I was now on the grass, but I couldn’t tell how far across the lawn I was. When had I first felt the grass under my feet? Suddenly, the world wasn’t making sense anymore. The gray air around me had consumed everything.
“Daryl?” I yelled. I realized I was being stupid. Daryl was no longer the person I thought he was, but our argument could have waited until we got back to our place. It was dumb to have started the fight in the middle of the storm. The rain was becoming more dense than the fog, and my eyesight was manipulated because of the raindrops on me. I didn’t know it was going to be so bad.
“Kasey, where’d you go?” I heard his voice from far away. Had he already crossed the courtyard? Or was he still on the sidewalk, and I was the one who had crossed the grass? “Stop messing with me Kasey.”
“Daryl!” I continued to scream for my boyfriend. “Daryl, come here!”
“Kasey?” I heard again. His voice was quiet. He no longer sounded worried. “There you are, baby.” My heart calmed down and I smiled. He had found me. “I got so worried. Hold my hand so we don’t lose each other again.”
I turned around to see him, but he wasn’t there. My eyes narrowed and I looked all around me. Everything was still gray. There was no shadow in sight. “Daryl, I don’t see you. You’re scaring me.” My breathing quickened and my stomach began to knot itself up again. “Daryl baby, please answer.”
There was no answer, though. I pulled out my phone and called Daryl. I held the phone up to my ear and waited to hear his phone ring near me. He had to be somewhere near me. I just didn’t know where. There was no phone ringing around me. All I could hear was the wind and hard rain. My phone stopped ringing, but it hadn’t been sent to voicemail.
“Daryl?” I said into my phone. He didn’t answer. “Are you there, baby?”
In the distance, there was a piercing scream. It was Daryl. It was my baby. Somewhere in the fog, he was in trouble. I dropped my phone into the mud and ran, but I had no idea exactly where or to whom I was running towards.
White Rooms
by The Cowl Editor on November 20, 2018
Portfolio
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick. What would be an eternity to any onlooker is only a few seconds to him. He sits in the chair, hearing only the clock and his thoughts. Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick. He refuses to look up, to see the world around him. Only the smell of rubbing alcohol and plastic reach his mind. Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick. He prefers it this way, because right now… he hates this world.
He feels a tap on his shoulder. He slowly and reluctantly raises his head and looks to his left. It’s his wife. She says to him, “Russ, come on, the doctor is waiting for us.” He slowly nods. Suddenly, he is in the white room with his wife and the doctor. He doesn’t remember getting there, but then again, he doesn’t care either. He comes back to reality only to hear his wife calling his name again. “Russ, Russ.”
He turns his head towards her, “Russ, have you even been listening?” Not making a motion he replies, “Sorry, Megan, I haven’t.” She stands up from her chair ready to yell, when the doctor’s steady voice rings out, “Mrs. Bowers, it’s all right. This is a tough time for everyone. Russ is just trying to get his bearings.” Megan sits back down and for a long time, you can only hear her soft sobs. Eventually, Russ says something. “So doc, what does all this mean? Is Danny all right?”
The doctor nods his head. He replies, “Mr. Bowers, I’m sure you understand. Nothing is wrong with Danny, but there was always a chance that your child would carry the same disease as you.” Russ rubs his head and replies, “But we saw a genetic counselor, and she said that it was unlikely.” The doctor quickly adds, “Not impossible, I’m afraid.” Silence strikes the room again. Megan reaches her hand out to Russ, but all he can feel is grief’s cold embrace. The doctor uncomfortably says, “Danny will live, I assure you. His life will just be…different. Mr. Bowers, I’m sure having lived with it you understand what Danny might need help with.”
His face suddenly grows red, “Doc, just because I understand something doesn’t mean I accept it. Is there anything we can do? For God’s sake I will not allow my son to suffer like I have!” The doctor remains calm, but Megan cries harder. With the stereotypical response that Russ has heard all his life, “I’m sorry Mr. Bowers, but there is no cure at this time. There is medicine, but…”
Russ shakes his head, “Enough with this crap. I’m not looking for pills or shots or anything else. I’m trying to save my son from wondering why life is so crappy, from all the confusion, and from these…white rooms. All these freaking white rooms!”
Megan finally speaks in between sobs, “It’s okay, Russ. It’s okay we’ll figure this out.”
Russ gets up and begins to walk out of the room. On his way out, he says, “Is it okay?”
Back at home, Russ stands over Danny as he sleeps in his bed. On any other night everything would be fine. But this isn’t any other night. It’s a living nightmare for Russ. Danny is sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, but all Russ can see is the darkness surrounding Danny. From the outside, Megan can only hear Russ’ quiet sobbing. Her hand shakes, as she opens the door. She quietly calls to Russ, “I think we need to have a talk.” She closes the door, and Russ continues to sit in the darkness. He stands up and walks over to Danny’s bed. He kisses him on the forehead as a tear travels down his face and falls onto Danny. Russ takes one last look at Danny then leaves the room.
He walks down the steps to see Megan sitting at the kitchen table. He sees her red eyes and puffy face, not unlike his own, but her trembling hands are what captures his attention. He takes a seat next to hers and puts his hands over hers. For several minutes, they sit together in their own misery refusing to break the silence… refusing to acknowledge their reality. Eventually Megan’s hands stop trembling, and she begins to speak. However, Russ cuts her off by saying, “Megan, please don’t tell me it’s going to be all right. ‘Cause I don’t want to hear that right now.”
She turns her face away from his, but she continues to say, “I know it is going to be tough…for all of us, but we need to stand together in this. We can’t let him know anything is different.”
Russ’s face grows red in anger as he replies, “Well, he will find out eventually. He’ll find out that there is something different about him. It doesn’t matter if it is tomorrow or 10 years from now. Something that he won’t be able to explain. He’ll look to us for answers, and I don’t know what to say.”
Megan turns to Russ and says, “We will find the words together.”
Russ lets go of Megan’s hands and gets up. He begins to pace around the room, nearly walking into everything in his path till his foot hits a chair near the table. Russ picks up the chair and throws it against the wall, and the house shudders at the collision.
Megan jumps up and wraps her arms around him to calm him down, as well as restrain him. “Russ, calm down. Please calm down, honey.”
Russ in his agony cries out, “Why should I be calm? This fucking disease has cursed this entire family.”
Megan whimpers back, “I fell in love with you because you are the empathetic and compassionate man that I have known since day one. If that freaking disease had any part in that, then maybe it was worth it. But I need that compassionate man right now because I can’t do this alone.”
With his head down, Russ whispers, “Megan, what am I supposed to say when Danny asks me why I gave him this disease? When he looks at me and wonders why I brought him into this world to feel only pain?”
“You didn’t bring him into this world. We did, Russ…we did.”
Russ looks at Megan and sees his reflection in the tears streaming down her face.
Broken Love Story
by The Cowl Editor on November 20, 2018
Portfolio
by Sarah Kirchner ’21
Lights lit up the City of Love. The city of Paris was alive and many people roamed the streets. A young girl stood, searching for her love under the lights of the Eiffel Tower. He told her he would meet her there at precisely eight o’clock at night. She thought that was awfully romantic. Imagine, waiting for your love in the magical city of Paris. She arrived a little before eight wearing her favorite blue dress. It flew off her hips perfectly and her white sweater outlined the dress. Her mother had bought it for her special night, and she felt beautiful in it. She wore a large smile, and her eyes shone so bright you’d mistake them for stars if you didn’t know better.
Every minute she checked her watch, hoping he would come soon. It was becoming quite cold a little after eight and she prayed her love was close by. With every chill that spread down her body, she yearned for him. Another glance at her watch, and she realized it was getting close to 8:30 p.m. She tried to keep her spirits up by watching the young kids spin round on the carousel. She kept convincing herself that he had stopped to get her some of her favorite macarons from Ladurée, or that he was getting her favorite flower from the florist just around the corner. She knew it. He was coming; he was just late. Her eyes searched the crowd of happy couples and cheerful families. Nowhere though, did she spot her love. Around 9 p.m. she bought herself a coffee to keep from getting too cold. He made a wrong turn, she told herself. He was on his way; he would be there soon. At 10 p.m., the night began to die down and there were far less people. The kids all went home and the couples went to celebrate their perfect night elsewhere. Then a thought popped into her mind. He must’ve been on the other side of the tower! Quickly she ran to the other side, determined that he would be there with a bouquet of flowers and macarons. He would be standing with a big smile saying, “I’d been waiting for you!” But unfortunately, he wasn’t there, and that’s when the first tear fell. Around 11 p.m., the tears poured out and she couldn’t will herself to stay any longer. She touched the locket on her neck that her love gave her. How could he have given her this just last week? Did he think that they were meant to be last week, but not now? Forcefully, she wrenched the necklace off and threw it onto the floor. She ran home hoping she would never have to see that boy again.
The love she knew had died that night. She was just a girl who wished for a Prince Charming, and he had let her down. She didn’t care if he showed up at some point later that night. The moment had ended, and her feelings had grown glum. He broke the promise he had made, and for that she hoped he found that locket as a reminder of the love he had lost.
Some Things Have No End
by Andrea Traietti on October 4, 2018
Portfolio
by Erin Venuti ’20
Janie wasn’t popular—except for the third week of fifth grade, when she brought a Chinese jump rope to recess. Her mom had found it during their annual summer trip to Cape Cod, in a store that sold toys, overpriced greeting cards, and platters plastered with the zip codes of surrounding tourist towns. Janie’s mom thought it would be a fun game to play with her friends at recess, which was almost exactly why Janie put off bringing it. Her mom was hopelessly optimistic. Janie was sure that she’d look lame if she brought it to recess. Eventually, though, Janie’s mom wore down her elementary-level mind. On the third Monday morning of the school year, Janie left the house with her bag packed, the Chinese jump rope hiding at the bottom.
The first half of the school day passed in its typical sequence: first math, then social studies, then language arts. At snack time, as usual, Janie joined her best friend Lydia at her desk cluster. They were discussing their plans for recess, or, more like Lydia was telling Janie what the plan was for recess. Janie usually did whatever Lydia did—it was easier that way.
“Amy told me that her and Sarah want me to hang out with them, so we’re gonna meet them by the swings,” Lydia said.
“They said it’s okay if I come too?” Janie asked. She couldn’t help but doubt that she was included in the initial invitation.
“Yeah,” Lydia said with a bit too much punctuation.
The silence that followed was interrupted by their teacher announcing the end of snack time. The class aimlessly shuffled towards the cubbies at the back of the room where their backpacks were stowed to return their lunch bags. Due to the alphabet, Janie’s cubby was on the top shelf, which was a problem because Janie was the shortest student in the class. Usually the teacher left a stool in front of the cubbies for this reason, but that day there was no stool in sight.
“Lydia, can you put this away?” She held the bag out to her friend.
“Sure.” Lydia took the bag and reached up to the backpack with ease.
Janie realized her mistake as soon as Lydia’s hand disappeared into the backpack. Lydia hesitated for a moment before she pulled her hand out again, this time holding the Chinese jump rope.
“What’s this?” Lydia asked.
“I dunno,” Janie said, looking at her shoes. “My mom made me bring it.”
Lydia inspected the packaging. The rope was navy blue with green specks and wrapped around itself into an infinity sign. Unlike a normal jump rope, it had no end.
“What makes it Chinese?”
“I dunno,” Janie said again.
“Looks like fun. Let’s play with it at recess.”
“Okay.”
Perhaps Janie’s mom was right.
At lunchtime, Janie carried the Chinese jump rope with her to the cafeteria. She followed Lydia to their usual table, where she placed the rope in front of her on the table. She felt a strange new sense of pride; surely if Lydia didn’t think the game was lame, Amy and Sarah wouldn’t think so either.
After their insufficient, 20 minutes of lunch, Lydia and Janie exited the cafeteria with the rope and the rest of the fifth grade, following the wave of students towards the playground. Per Lydia’s plan, they met Amy and Sarah at the swings.
“Hey!” Lydia said as they approached her friends.
Janie saw Amy and Sarah shoot each other a side-eyed glance. Anxiety tapped at Janie’s shoulder.
Meanwhile, Lydia pretended not to notice. “Janie brought a game that I think we should play.”
At this, Janie held out the Chinese jump rope.
“Um, okay,” Amy and Sarah said in unison.
Without a word, Janie tore the packaging apart and carefully unraveled the rope. It was much bigger than she’d initially thought—even when she held it with her arms stretched out above her head—the bottom of the circle grazed the ground. She laid the rope on the pavement and picked up the directions.
“Okay,” she said, in an authoritative voice that surprised even her. “I’ll read the directions and tell you guys what to do.” Within a minute, the girls were in position inside the circle, the rope wrapped around Amy and Sarah’s ankles with Lydia standing between them. Janie guided them through the steps, watching as Lydia jumped in and out of the rope.
Sooner than expected, the recess monitors rang the bell that signaled for the students to line up.
“That was fun, Janie,” Amy said, as they walked towards the building.
“Yeah,” said Sarah. “Can we play again tomorrow?”
Janie smiled at Lydia. “Okay.”
The rest of the week followed in the same manner; each day at recess, Janie, Lydia, Amy, and Sarah met at the swings to play Chinese jump rope. And each day, more of Janie’s classmates showed up to play with them. The game made its way into other aspects of Janie’s life as well—by Friday, she no longer ate snacks at Lydia’s desk cluster—people ate at hers. For the first time, Janie understood the appeal of being popular, of being noticed by people she barely knew. The feeling didn’t last long.
The following Monday, Amy showed up to recess with her own Chinese jump rope. It was pink.
There was no more need for Janie.
The Circle
by Andrea Traietti on October 4, 2018
Portfolio
II
Anthony’s eyes let loose a few traitorous tears in the cab seat next to me, his hand clutching the black drawstring bag between his feet as if it were a lifeline. I’d only known him a few weeks, but he was woefully unaccustomed to the violence of the Circle’s way of life. I saw it in his face when Argus gave us our first charge. He had looked pale as a sheet of paper, which was impressive given his tan. It was a comfort to know I wasn’t the only one they inducted out of desperation.We had been silent while carrying out Argus’ orders. I knew that if I had made a point of how bad Anthony’s hands were shaking it would’ve made everything worse. In the cab, my curiosity overtook me.
“You’ve never killed anything before?”
A concoction of fear and surprise stopped his tears in their tracks. He watched the driver for a reaction as he stammered out a “no.”
“The glass is too thick for him to hear. We’d have to press the button to talk,” my words reassured, but my tone chastised.
“Oh,” he relaxed infinitesimally. After a pause, he realized he hadn’t answered my question, “No, I’ve never killed anything before. I’ve never had to.”
“It’s just squirrels. You could’ve let me do it.”
He raised his hand to his face suddenly, as though just realizing that he should dry the tears on his cheeks, “Well I wanna get used to it. Sacrifice is kind of part of the whole thing.”
“Well, yeah.”
He shifted away from me, ever so slightly, pressing his eyes shut. I’d struck a nerve. Pitying him, I tacked on, “You’ll get used to it.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t believe me.
The cab was approaching a truck stop on the highway, complete with a dank highway diner. Pressing the button, I instructed the cab driver to drop us at the diner. Anthony did not look at me as I paid and hopped out of the cab.
“Can you call up a shroud?” I asked under my breath as we approached the diner.
Anthony scoffed, which was the most confident thing I’d ever heard him do. “Of course.”
Together we breathed slow and deep, calming our heart rates, dampening our auras, out of view from anyone who wasn’t paying attention.
As we stepped inside I observed the truck drivers who had stopped in for a meal. They were all men, some with sagging skin and sunken eyes clutching beers in their fists, others thin and emaciated, inhaling burgers and fries. A man at the bar was nodding his head to non-existent music, fighting valiantly against the drunken stupor that was bound to win him over. Anthony and I sat at the bar a few seats down from him. The bartender-slash-waitress did not acknowledge us. I pointed a thumb over my shoulder at the now sleeping truck driver. “Go get his keys.”
Anthony’s shoulders slumped as he slid off of his stool, a strange reaction to the terror that must have gripped him in the moment. I poured myself a beer from the bar as he returned, the keys of our fated vehicle hanging from his pointer finger. He gave me a wan smile. “You oughtta be proud of yourself,” I congratulated.
After 20 minutes of shoving car keys into slots they didn’t belong to, we managed to find the truck that belonged to the sleeping man. I swung up into the driver’s seat as Anthony clambered in, placing the drawstring bag in the back of the cab. The tools inside had already begun to reek of death. I knew we hadn’t washed them properly. I tore the air freshener from the rearview mirror and placed it on top. Anthony laughed at the futility of the action. “Hey, it’s better than nothing.”
Although I had been the one drinking, Anthony passed out after 15 minutes on the highway. I couldn’t blame the kid. We had been hitchhiking for days to get to Kansas. In Kansas City he had seemed ready to have a mental episode at the prospect of another couple hours entertaining the whims of the strangers who picked us up. I had used the last of our funds to grab a cab to somewhere remote and unpoliced so we could jack a rig.
I drove for hours, as if caught in a loop. We kept on passing the same field of corn, over and over. Perhaps Kansas just gave the sensation of motion without progress. At 15 or 50 mph the corn sped past at the same rate. I could’ve sworn I saw a familiar jaggle-toothed scarecrow at least three times within 2 hours. Either way, we resigned to riding it out until Kansas deemed us worthless enough to let go, and hoping it wouldn’t decide to keep us on our return trip.
I didn’t know exactly why the higher-ups chose the northeastern chapter to carry out this charge, but I suspected it. What irritated me was that Argus had decided to send two kin, who had only belonged to the circle for a month, halfway across the country for a charge that he said would “change the fate of the Circle.”
Anthony awoke shortly before we reached our destination, the warehouse of the midwestern chapter. Thinking of our own dinky warehouse, it must’ve been Circle policy to live in and operate out of them.
“How do you feel?” I asked, the falsity of my sympathy ringing in my own ears.
“Okay,” his voice was still muted by exhaustion.
“Will you be alright around the midwestern chapter?”
“I think so,” he sighed, his back cracking as he stretched his arms above his head.
“You should know so. If the head is suspicious at all she’ll take us for insurgents. We don’t want that.”
“I know so,” he declared, fear coloring his face.
Finally, we arrived. The warehouse was rusty, in a word. Every inch seemed to be a tetanus risk. There were old, rotting cars littered about the parking lot. Fittingly, the apocalypse looked as if it had already been here. I put the truck into park, wedging blocks under the wheels to keep it from running away. Argus had strictly instructed us to open the gate of the cargo bed upon arrival and Anthony did so.
With no other instructions, we approached the front door and knocked for entry. A woman with amber eyes and ratty hair opened the door and we stood rigid before her. She noticed the symbol of the circle on both of us, an ouroboros pin that stood in for the tattoos we would one day earn. She flashed a smile and stepped aside, waving to the members who had been safely observing from behind her. They ran to the back of the warehouse and began lugging crates marked with the infamous yellow and black trefoil symbol, underscored by bold black letters that read RADIOACTIVE. With concerning grunts of effort the members of the midwestern chapter piled the stolen materials into our truck. The purpose of our charge clicked into place in my head as the woman took a seat on a lumpy and stained couch.
“You’ll have to transport these materials quickly and carefully. People might be looking for your truck, so drive back a different route than you came. We’re putting on another set of license plates to help you out, but your main goal is to stay under the radar. Nothing brash. Might wanna let him drive if he can,” her eyes indicated Anthony, “he seems more the trucker type.”
“Thanks,” was all I could think to say.
“Once we’ve finished loading the truck we’ll give you some food to tide you over and you can hunt and sacrifice for luck on the next part of your journey. This time I would chose something more appropriate than squirrels.”
I didn’t ask how she knew what we had chosen as our offering. Some things could not be known yet.
“They didn’t tell me of your next location, but you’re not exactly delivering a care package so I would get out there as quickly as you can. Better safe than sorry. I wish you the very best of luck. Don’t get caught and I’ll see you on the other side.”
And with that she sent us on our way.