A Real Deal
By Ellie Forster ’24
“It’ll save you a fortune,” the man with different colored eyes said as he snapped his gum. She looked skeptically at the small green capsule in her palm.
“Why haven’t I heard of it before?” she asked.
“I’m glad you asked darlin’! The big oil companies don’t want you to know about these bad boys on account of how they’re gonna steal all of their business. Who would wanna pay for gas when this little pill’ll make it with nothin’ but water?”
She gave a forced smile, handed him the fifty cents, pocketed the pill, and left quickly.
When she ate dinner with her husband that night she told him about the man and his magic pill. Her husband was enthused.
“We gotta try it! You shoulda found out if we coulda invested.”
“I dunno,” she said pushing her food around her plate. “I just wanted to shut him up, it’s definitely a scam.”
“Well, let’s find out,” he said, holding out his palm.
She placed the little thing reluctantly in his hand and he dropped it in his glass. The pill fizzled and the water turned green. A sort of vapor started to come off of it and the pair slumped forward into their potatoes and chicken.
Their house was robbed that night. Every room stripped bare, their cold bodies on the floor of the dining room. Nothing concrete was caught on the cameras, just a pair of mismatched eyes under a ski-mask, winking before the footage cut out.
The Voice of the Eaton Street Bike Lane from the Great Beyond
By Sarah Heavren ’21
Of my short life.
Streaks of yellow
To the right.
And fewer care
About the bike lane
No longer there.
Like a sad ghost
I haunt the street
Of things gone by
Not to repeat.
The Black Angel
By Sarah Kirchner ’21
“Are we really going in?” Claire squeaked. The three of us stared at the cemetery entrance.
“It’s Halloween! We have to!” Ryan declared. Before any of us could object, he walked through the gate. I grabbed Claire’s hand and took a deep breath. There was no turning back.
As we stepped over the threshold, chills ran down my spine. Ryan wandered ahead while Claire and I lingered at the front. Up ahead, the Black Angel loomed. The wings stretched out, threatening to consume us. Had something moved in its shadow? No. It had to be Ryan.
“Stop messing around, Ryan. You’re going to accidentally hit the angel, and it’s almost midnight.”
“You actually believe those rumors?”
Claire and I exchanged a look. Of course we did.
“You also believe that if I kiss her, I’ll die instantly?” I chewed on my lip. I didn’t know what to believe, but I wasn’t going to test my luck. We all knew the stories. Ryan laughed and jumped onto the base of the statue. Claire and I screamed in unison. Ryan continued to laugh and grabbed onto the angel’s waist. Before Claire and I could interject, he pressed his lips to hers. A blood-curdling scream sounded, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. Ryan jumped at the cry. His balance faltered and before I could reach out, he hit the ground with a loud thump. Above him, the Black Angel darkened. There was no question what had just happened. The Black Angel had claimed another victim.
Small and Simple
By Marelle Hipolito ’22
A boy, a small, simple province boy, sold bread for his family. Up and down the highway traffic, the small, simple province boy tapped on car windows and sold bread for his family. Most times the boy received coins in exchange, other times he received remarks of dismissal. One time this boy, the small and simple province boy, received a horse. A small, simple wooden horse, stuck in gallop, bought with old bread. The boy, small and simple, hid the simple horse in his small pocket and galloped from the highway to home. In his excitement, the boy did not see the large and complex car, flying towards him, making the small and simple boy weak and weary. In his last breaths, the boy gripped the horse, wishing that he had a chance to not be so small and simple. There was a whinny and a whine. At this time, people talk about the big and polished wooden boy, who galloped out of the small and simple province.