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 star Christmas tree topper that is melted and burnt — Graphic design courtesy of Connor Zimmerman ’20

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.

Man proposing to his wife with an engagement ring in a velvet box — Graphic design by Connor Zimmerman ’20

Believe in Santa

by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2018

Christmas

Santa hat — Photo courtesy of openclipart.org

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

“Harry, that’s a ridiculous question.” My sister laughed and squeezed my hand.

“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.”

“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?”

“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.”

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.”

“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

Woman standing in the pouring rain looking for her boyfriend — Graphic design by Connor Zimmerman ’20

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.

Family Secrets

by The Cowl Editor on November 30, 2018

Portfolio

Family sitting down for a thanksgiving dinner — Photo courtesy of thoughtco.com

by Sam Pellman ’20

Here we go. I had to mentally prepare myself for the events that were going to happen. It was holiday season, and I was finally home for winter break. It was a rough semester, and those last two weeks really killed me. But I somehow survived and had not yet checked my grades, because why would I want to ruin my Christmas? The family was coming over for Christmas dinner. My family is hard to track down; there’s always someone in a different country or vacationing in Florida, but when we are all able to be together, well that’s when it gets wild. First we have the weird cousins; everyone has those, right? The ones with the messy lives. But also the ones that cause family drama and give us a reason to gossip. One of them is married, one is engaged and they’re only two years older than me but hey, it’s alright, we don’t judge family… Then we have the cousins that we like but don’t see enough. They’re mysterious and always doing their own thing, doing their best to stay out of the drama, but will always be eager to listen to it. Finally, there are the favorite cousins. The ones that are your best friends but in cousin form. But they live across the country so when you finally see them after months and months, there is a list of things to fill each other in on.

The worst is when the favorite cousins show up last and all you do is wait in misery until they finally arrive. Just as I was in the middle of a very uncomfortable conversation with the annoying cousin, a conversation I stopped listening to 15 minutes ago, Kat, my favorite cousin, walks in. Thank God, I thought. We immediately run to each other and start chatting. Now from an outside perspective, it may look like we’re not being inclusive, but that didn’t stop us. Secrets needed to be spilled. Like the fake marriage one. The juiciest one this holiday. Supposedly, the cousin who is so-called “engaged” is actually already married but not telling anyone and still having a ceremony. We can’t wait to see the look on my grandmother’s face when she hears that one.

We sit down at the table. I am of course sitting next to Kat with my grandmother on the other side of me. I already knew she’d ask but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

“Is there anyone special in your life?”

Oh God did she really just ask that in front of everyone. As if I don’t already know that I’m lonely on the holidays.

“Nope, not now…” I begin.

“Well why not?” she prompts.

What do you mean why not, I think to myself. I don’t need a stupid college boy to ruin my future plan in life. Although I don’t really say this. Instead I bite my tongue and say, “Just focusing on myself grandma.” She surprisingly takes the hint and backs off.

“We all can’t wait for the wedding this summer,” my aunt says to the engaged cousin, knowing damn well he’s already married. There are giggles across the table. It seems that everyone knows but my grandmother, and she looks confused. I wondered, is she really going to say it? Right now, right here. His face turns red. “It’s going to be lovely, I’m a lucky grandma!” my grandmother says. Everyone looks at each other, seeing how pure and happy she is.

“Cheers to that,” I say and for once everyone zips their lips. She is living proof that some secrets don’t need to be told.

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

People dancing in front of the Eiffel Tower at night — Photo courtesy of travelynntales.com

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.

To Hell And…

by The Cowl Editor on October 25, 2018

Portfolio

by Connor Zimmerman ’20

“Enter when Hope is a thing of the past.”

Shivering, Ron reads the sign posted on the door. The cold wind seeps through his skin and begins to settle within his body. Trying to work up the courage to go in, Ron takes one last look at his surroundings. The dilapidated and windowless buildings don’t hold a soul in sight, the only company seeming to be the rats fighting for the meager scraps of garbage on the streets. Ron takes a deep breath and opens the door, ready to enter the shack. What does he have to lose anyways.

Once inside, the door slams behind him and the doorknob strikes his spine. Ron stumbles forward and falls down the staircase directly in front of him. His knee strikes the first step, his arm breaks upon another step, and this goes on for what feels like an eternity. The darkness enfolds him, and he loses track of time. Falling further, and further down Ron stops feeling everything, even pain. His body hits the ground with a thud once he reaches the bottom. It is somehow colder down here than outside, the cold air begins to sting his nostrils, his lungs, and finally his heart. Ron struggles to lift his bruised and bloodied body up.

“Stay where you are mortal! You are at the final destination,” a voice booms. Ron tries to look around but can’t seem to move. The voice continues, “You have come in search of a loved one, is that right, Ron?”

“Yes,” he meekly calls out. Where was that voice coming from?

“She must have been special for you to travel down to the underworld.”

“What do you mean the underworld?”

“Do not play dumb mortal, I know you have talked with my minions.”

Spooky cave — Photo courtesy of caves.ambient-mixer.com

Ron struggles to get off the ground, but he cannot seem to move. He feels the weight of the world pressing down on him, his broken ribs feel as though they are getting closer to his lungs. He looks around and it looks like the shadows of the dark are closer than before. He whimpers, “What are you?”

“I have many names and titles, but I am the one who rules this domain. The one who is king of all souls.”

“The Devil?”

“Yes, you may call me the Devil.” The last word rings throughout the space, and it causes the whole domain to shake.

“If you know all, then you know why I am here.”

“Yes, but you cannot have her back, once I have a soul I do not give it up.”

A deafening silence envelops Ron. His vision first becomes blurry, his hearing begins to ring louder and louder, he can barely think anymore. The darkness begins to inch closer and closer to him. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks and freeze in mid-air. He cries not because of his bruises, broken bones, and pain, but because he knows what he must do.

“Okay, then I shall stay, I can’t live without her.”

“Bwahahaha!” The sinister laugh stings Ron’s ears. If he could move his hands he would cover them. The Devil continues on, “Fool, your life was mine once you came here. You could not move because your soul has been leaving your body all along.”

Ron cries out, “I don’t care as long as I am with Melissa!”

The Devil continues laughing. “You still think she is here, after all this time. No, she was up in Heaven all along, never here. Now you are doomed to be separated eternally.”

Ghost Stories

by The Cowl Editor on October 25, 2018

Features

Ghost standing in the middle of a broken down city — Photo courtesy of bbc.com

The Carson Killer

He didn’t want to get caught. The day he was suspected the shadows scratched across the hardwood floors of 29 Carson Avenue, as though the sun were trying to drag them to the basement. Day or night the sun succeeded; a cellar filled with more dark than light said as much. That’s how dark it must’ve always been. Yet, it didn’t stop the man from making it more midnight than milky-way-with-no-stars down there. Sealed windows and a victim a week kept the room heavy with languor only he could enjoy. Save the unheard screams from his “play dates,” it was quiet. Seldom was there a reason to suspect him of all people in the neighborhood. He was squeaky. Not a speck on him. When all the gardening he did finally got him dirty enough to be a suspect, he was gone. The police found a letter at 29 penned to them and the neighborhood.

“Reach inside,” he wrote. “Dig and dig. Look for it. Look, actually look. I assure you it’s there. I’ve seen it. All of them had it. All of us do. I saw it. They saw it too, before I let them go. The Capacity for murder is there. Everyone’s a killer if pushed far enough. The Capacity is buried below the gallbladder for most or in between the heart and the right lung for the extraordinary. I can’t wait to find out more in each of you. I can’t wait to find out which one I am.”

He didn’t want to get caught…so, he didn’t.

—Dawyn Henriquez ’19

“One of Them”

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. Like so many others, I went trick-or-treating. I watched horror movies and visited haunted houses. I wasn’t immune to the world’s fascination with the dead who stay behind. But look where that got me. If this isn’t the definition of “cruel irony,” I don’t know what is.

Back then, costumes mattered. Halloween mattered. Now, the only thoughts I give the dark night are those of disgust. How, you must be saying, was I supposed to know how insensitive I was being when I was still alive? I can’t help it – I’m ashamed of who I used to be.

I remember my last Halloween. It was the first one after graduation and I’d driven three hours to my former roommate’s house in the middle of nowhere for a mini-reunion. Incredibles 2 had premiered that summer, so I was dressed as Elastigirl – not my most creative costume, but it was comfortable and, I had to admit, I looked pretty damn good in it.

The house backed up to a forest so dense I could hug two trees at the same time. It was my idea to go exploring there, to dare Death. After, I heard my friends rationalizing, claiming I didn’t deserve it. “She wasn’t thinking,” they said. “She’d had too much to drink.” They were kidding themselves. Cider may have played a part, but I was sober enough to know I was playing with fire.

Once we were in deep enough for the house lights to be swallowed by the wood, I started taunting the spirits, only half joking – Halloween isn’t fun unless some part of you believes in ghosts.

“C’mon out!” I yelled, laughing. “Bet’cha can’t scare us!”

The trees rustled incomprehensibly.

“Shut up!”

After a minute the air began to thin; only then did I pause to inhale and – I could have sworn – I heard the trees inhaling too. Suddenly, everything around me was thrashing violently. The wind scratched at my clothes, grabbed at my hair, and I screamed someone else’s scream.

Then, nothing.

Now I am one of them.

—Erin Venuti ’20

Eco Terror

“So. We were in the woods. Hanging out. Smoking—,” he paused, pursed his lips. “Wait, you guys aren’t, like, tightasses are you?”

The interviewer gave him a dead-eyed stare.

“Okay, it was cigarettes. Eddie’s new girlfriend is some wannabe witch, always yapping about stones and the moon and other bull. So, she’s feeling the spirit of the holiday, talking our ears off about All Hallow’s Eve, about honoring the dead, and she whips out chalk. But we’re in the woods, so she can’t really do anything with it. I think Andrew made some comment about using it on leaves.” He snickered.

The interviewer was unamused. “Mr. Greene, could we please get back to the matter of Wednesday’s incident.”

“Right. So she turns to the damned trees, talking about nature and oneness with the earth and once she’s on her third symbol on the third tree the whole circle of ‘em starts vibrating hard enough to stop a heart beat. It made my legs feel like pudding.”

“The chasm, Mr. Greene.”

“Listen, telling a story is like weaving a web, it’s very delicate very preci—”

“We are on an incredibly limited time frame.”

“Alright. So the trees are vibrating and Casey’s on the ground screaming, begging forgiveness, and there must’ve been something lost in translation because the freakin’ ground opened up and swallowed her and we were all standing by the edges because we were freaked by that point… Eddie’s gotta be devastated.”

“And you wouldn’t say your perceptions of the event were affected by the… cigarettes you were smoking that evening?”

“No way. I’ve been paranoid before, I’ve seen ghouls in shadows, but my mind is not nearly creative enough to make that up. That girl was messing with some chaos magic or something. What are you all telling her parents?”

“Our agency doesn’t handle that, only containment procedure.”

“Containment procedure?”

“Of anomalies.”

“So this isn’t an isolated incident?”

“Mr. Greene, right now all I can discuss is this particular event. Did Casey mention anything at all about a group called the Circle?”

—Julia Zygiel ’19

Home Alone

I wave goodbye as the last roommate’s car drives off into the darkening afternoon light. I sit myself down in my favorite beanbag with a mug of warm tea and close my eyes, the thought of having the house to myself causing a smile to play across my lips as I slowly drift into a lazy and much deserved nap.

Bang! A loud noise jerks me suddenly back to consciousness. My heart is in my throat as I look around wildly. Somehow, hours must’ve passed as the sky outside is a sheet of pure darkness. Inside, the dimness of the room without the lamps paints the furniture in white and black and gray, the same living room I have been used to for months made unfamiliar by the night. I hear the noise again.

“Hello? Back so soon?” I call out, hoping against hope that one of my roommates has simply forgotten her pajamas or her toothbrush.

The faint warbling of the wind answers me. From down the stairs comes a prolonged knock. One, two, three, four, five, six slow raps against the wooden door. “Did you forget your key?” I try again. No response.

Somewhere in the house the hundred-year-old floorboards creak and the windows rattle loose in their panes. The slow plodding of heavy footsteps reaches my ears. I turn and look into the kitchen, my eyes frozen and fixed on the door that guards the stairs. A screech of metal as the doorknob slowly turns. My heart has stopped beating altogether.

I hold my breath as the door swings open.

—Taylor Godfrey ’19