Fall 2015

By Brooke Holley

Fall semester is coming to its end with only a little over a month left of classes. Finals are approaching sooner than any of us think. Some of us are behind on our assignments (I know I am). So, this can be an especially stressful time of the semester. Unfortunately, it’s just going to get worse as finals slowly creep up behind us. 

I’ve found that making and articulating goals that you want to accomplish each semester can especially useful when it comes to education. Of course, I didn’t make many goals this semester. In fact, I can only think of one that I actually articulated to anyone. Even if you didn’t make any goals, I think that this is the perfect time to look back on the semester and see if you lived up to your expectations. Did you have anything that you expected to complete or attain during fall semester of 2015? 

I only wanted to get a higher GPA. Obviously, there’s no way for me to tell if I’ve actually improved my GPA until final grades come out. However, I think this is a good time in the semester to double check and make sure that I’m on the right track. I can still make some changes to reach said goal. So can any other student in this school.

If this is something you’re interested in doing, I believe the wise thing would be to ask yourself a couple of questions. What exactly were you expecting to accomplish? Have you done so? If so, can you do even better? If not, are you close? What can you do to reach said goal? Think about it. Maybe you could come up with some goals for next semester while you’re at it.

Dream Girl

by J. O'Shields II

I woke up alone.  That is all I was certain of at five-forty-three on the day the sun slept late.  I lay in my twin bed noticing how overlarge it is.  When the bed was purchased I had no less girth than I do today but never before had I noticed such excess stretching out on both sides.  To test this theory I summoned movement I was not entirely suited for and slid to one side.  Again I looked at where I lay, my position and how much area I covered.  It was an unwise thing to do; to see how she could fit so comfortably at my side even in this bed designed for children and those who never find a heart like their own.  She, who held my hand as we conquered the world before us only moments before in my sleep, would have found ample comfort and warmth under the piles of down and fine fabric in which I've dressed this skiff of forgotten hope.

It was then I noticed my throat was raw.  I must have slept with my mouth wide and gathered too much cool air from the dark, still room.  I waved the covers away and sat on the side of the small bed shuffling my feet into the shoes waiting there.  They were always in their place.  It’s where I left them and where I expect them to be and I would profess a spirit if they were elsewhere.  Furthermore, if they moved without my doing I would hear them.  The scuffing 'shhh shhh shhh' sound they make.  To reassure me their sound was still in their possession they spoke while I dragged them across the wood floor into the bathroom and began the ritual which begins every day without variation.  I took my toothbrush from the coffee cup on the sink and coated it with paste.  The others, the brushes I keep alongside my own, glare angrily at me; two from inside their wrappers still, one kidnapped from the past in case she should come back someday and need it after waking in my arms.  She might say to me, "My breath. It’s horrible, Johnny.  I'll brush fast."  And she'd dash out of bed smiling and gripping her arms and she would be brushing when I met her with her robe at this same sink and made my mouth suitable for her longest, warmest kiss.

I spit.  I rinse.  The brush is placed back in the coffee cup where I will find it tomorrow when I relive this ritual, this curse, this daydream.

The loyal shoes whisper to the house again as I step back to the hall and move ghostlike back to the bedroom.  I sit myself on the side of the bed and slide my feet from them and back under the thick piles of bedding.  My head is set again against the pillow and my eyes are already closed.  I'll try to sleep a few minutes more.  It's too early for the sun and she always wakes with the sun.  Perhaps wherever she is she hasn't had time to rise and bathe and dress.  But soon she will and then she'll want to see me because we were in love.  So I'll sleep so we are awake together and so that we find ourselves in need of rest together.  By that we'll spend our day in step with one another and our night in an embrace as one; on my narrow bed, under fine bedding.  And when she is in my arms I won't dream of my hand being held by a woman I never knew, who never shared my sink or was chilled by my morning.  But those are merely details.  And they'll be forgotten once I close my eyes and see her again.

The Story of a Baby Girl

by Jacinda Perez

This is the story of a young girl who lived a horrible but yet blessed life.  January 16, 1982 a beautiful baby girl was born at 9:22 P.M.  Blessed her mother was with a dark complected little girl, but as everyone knew she was blessed, she knew there was a wrath to come of this.  As her man walked in, he looked at this baby girl and saw her dark complexion and said, “She is not mine; get rid of her.” So as the mother knew, if she didn’t give up her baby girl, she would be beat and left alone. So she did it. She gave away her precious baby girl without a second thought. Little did she know the pain this would cause not only herself, but her sweet precious baby girl. 

As this baby girl got older she went through several different foster families. She began to wonder, did her mother love her? Did she miss her? And did she want her back? Every day was a new thought, always wanting to be a part of her family life, wondering if they wanted her to be a part of their lives.

As she came to her final foster family, eleven different homes later, her final foster family had her for a year before they finally asked her “Do you want to stay with us forever and have us adopt you, or do you want to be with your mother or father?” What a decision for this little girl. As the girl ran this thru her head, she decided to be with her mother it had been her dream for years, so she told them, “I would like to go be with my mom.”

As she made her decision it saddened her loving and caring foster family, as they had loved her as their own, but it was her decision and they understood her completely. The very next day they called the little girl’s mother and said, “She is yours now she has chosen to be with you.” That very next week her mother made a trip from Nebraska to Colorado to pick up her sweet angel.  The little girl waited by the door for her mother to show up, and when she did show up, both of them ran to each other and hugged each other never wanting to let go. They left the foster home and began the long journey home. Finally that special little girl got her dream; she got her family which was all she ever wanted. 

The Empath Who Lacked Control

by Brooke Holley

Her eyes darted back and forth to each and every person that filled the large room. Casey hated crowds. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, though. She loved being around people, having someone to talk to.

Things had changed, though. Ever since her eyes had been opened to the other side of things, she couldn’t stand to be around people. Their emotional chaos bombarded her with ever step she took, making her want to run away. Before her eyes were opened, she’d only gotten vague impressions about people. Now, it was as if she could feel every emotion every person around her was feeling. It was maddening.

She took a step. A man pushed passed her, rudely bumping up against her shoulder and nearly knocking her feet out from underneath her. Gasping in surprise, Casey made the mistake of allowing his energy inside her walls. That was when it all came rushing in at once.

She first felt the rude man’s energy. She experienced his irritation and annoyance as if it were her own. Then, she felt his soul read as she did with everyone else she allowed in. Casey frowned with that part of the experience. She was never for sure what to make of soul reads. She figured that they were just impressions left from past lives, but in all honesty, she didn’t have a clue.

That man’s soul wasn’t bad or tainted. It gave her a calm, almost nice impression. Casey probably would have called him a good soul if it wasn’t for his behavior. She shook her head in confusion, attempting to forget about the encounter all together as she took a step back to gain her balance.

That wasn’t possible, though. She couldn’t forget. That man had unknowing torn down what little protection she had built around herself.

Now everyone’s emotions and reads were flooding in, drowning her with their stimuli. Overwhelmed with everything, the room began to spin. Casey became too dizzy to orientate herself. She took another step back, her head still spinning. She wasn’t for sure what was going on now.

She just wanted out. She wanted a way to control her ability but she knew that for her, that may never be possible. Accidentally falling into someone, Casey jumped, stifling a scream as she spun around to face the person. The offender was the same rude man from before.

Casey didn’t feel bad for bumping into him. She gave him a second’s glare before pushing passed him in much the same manner as he had her just moments earlier.

Then, she ran.