Karen Varela's Dark Places

The deep caliginous shadows in my surroundings creep into my flesh

Gradually darkening my mental thought s and cells in my head.

I question, they question the wind in flowing in our faces

Why do we live, in these dark places?

No purpose in flying to the sky

To subsequently see that my sky was filled with lies.

If Corruption flows in the light

There is no aspiration for warmth in my life

I plead to see the day in when I discover our indifferent mazes

In why do we live, in these dark places?

Is this a trial from the one up above that claims to love us,

Or is this the hateful flames devouring us into hell

I wonder, they wonder who is in back of this callous dilemma

Now as we are pleading for answer, I do not see

It is I ; the power of my own free will that is enslaving me

Into this murderous Hades

I created This in which I must change and make light,

Why do we; "I", create these dark places?

Krystal Gardela THE JADE DRAGON

I looked down at it. The most amazing jewel I have ever seen, The Jade Dragon. I knew this was going to be hard to do, but I will do it, even if it kills me… Let me not go that far. I went through my tools, picking up a small hammer. I wonder if I can just break the glass… Ha then I will get caught, no thank you. I looked to my left and notice the Eiffel tower staring at me “Don’t judge me, I really want to do this.” I think I might have been going crazy, I was talking to building. I ignored my crazy and went back to work. I put the small hammer back in the black duffle bag and pulled out a suction cup and a pair of scissors. I love knowing how to use house hold items as thief items. I thought to myself, placing the cp upon the glass. I took the scissors and cut out a large circle around the cup, big enough to let me go through it. I brought the glass piece up and placed it to the side. I went back into my duffle bag and rammed through it. Man for a thief I sure am a clutter. I finally found what I was looking for, climbing rope. I hooked it up as it I was going to rock climbing. I rapped the belt around myself, then clicked the rope in the loop. I looked down through the hole I had made. Three floors up, man I sure hope I get big bucks for this. I jumped down, with nothing under me but the first floor marble. If I fall, I might die… Bad thoughts, bad no thinking bad. I told myself in that moment. I slowly went down, I stopped every few moments, not because I was scared, but to marvel at all the art work. It’s always so hard to get in here during a normal day. I normally stand four to five hours out side, and all because it’s the Luve. Stupid tourist. I was slowly getting to the first floor. I knew this part would be hard. I needed to find a way to take it with out tripping any alarms. I looked around the room. How convenient, a button that says ‘Power Off’. This is way to easy. I tried swinging towards the button for a few moments, then I got tired. I hung there for a while, trying to catch my breath. Man I’m in bad shape. I tried swinging once more, this time putting full force in. I got to the wall, trying really hard not to let go of it, I pushed the button. The floor flickered for a moment. Ok that was weird. I grabbed onto my belt and unattached the rope, not the smartest thing to do. I fell to the floor hitting it pretty hard. I was ok, just with a small pain. I wasn’t so far from the floor, but it still hurt. When I was finally able to get up, I walked to the jewel. I stared at it in awe. I have never seen anything like it, a diamond and a jade emerald fused together. I took the jewel out of the case. No alarms? Wow low tech, or maybe it’s silent. I looked around then at the case. I blew around the case, I saw it in a movie once, so I tired it. There was nothing. Oh well. I hooked myself back up to the rope and pulled myself up. That was the hardest part. I finally got back to the top, almost fully out of breath. I picked everything up, putting the cut window piece back and putting tape around so it wouldn’t fall. I grabbed my duffle bag and went down the way I came up. When I got to the bottom, they were all there. The cops. I walked over to the one man who had a different uniform from every one else. “Here, I think you’ll need this.” I told him tossing the jewel at him, and dropping the duffle bag. He quickly caught it. I walked over to a police car and sat in the front seat, every one was in marvel at me, for a moment, then they started running around again. I looked up at one of the policemen who was standing next to the car. “So did I trip any alarms?” He looked down at me and gave a half a smile “Nope, you were perfect, the job was perfect.” I was glad to hear. I undid the belt and tossed it to the side. I stood out of the can and walked over to the man I gave the jewel to. “So chief, told you it could be done. They need more alarms, and I need a bigger pay check.” He looked at me and began to laugh “I need a bigger pay check too.” Then walked away. I was disappointed. “I’m going home.” I walked off holding onto my pocket. No one’s going to notice the difference, I can swear my life on it.

Hollow Man by David Dominguez

Hollow Man
David Dominguez Jr

There was a man
And he was happy
He had a good life
A well paying job
An average Joe
One thing seemed odd about this man
Something odd about his attitude
Something odd about his life
And something odd about his job
He wasn’t a man at all
He was the American dream
And he was terrifying.

Bayardo Lacayo SOMETHING I WROTE THIS MORNING

I have once read that one should not waste anything in life. In fact, that to leave anything on the field is nothing more than a sin. Of course, the field is figurative. It can be anything. It could be a court, a game, a competition, or most importantly, a single sheet of paper. Granted, I am typing this, but the meaning is conserved. I suppose that these thoughts have impacted me much farther than I ever thought they would. I suppose that writing is the only way to make your soul visible. Or, to be more poetic: My soul is the ink that feeds the pen.
So would it be that every time I write, I am bleeding onto the paper? Is it my blood that seeps through the fibers of each sheet, and if so, will writing kill me one day? It would not come as a surprise, really, as writing has killed many a man before. But then again, it was not the writing that killed them. It was the response the public had, which ended their life. And then, even that begs another question. Is writing not just one's soul, but the soul of humanity?

Krystal Gardela

This is an excerpt from Krystal's short story:

“Hey, hey, watch it cat.” I jumped back at first then remembered that I was a cat. I did not respond, but merely walked inside. Walked into my favorite room of the house. It was a dark, completely black, No windows, no skylight, it was perfect. I noticed the dog never left so going out, I would go as a cat. “Why don’t you leave? Don’t you have an owner missing you or something?” I asked one day, finally. At first he seemed surprised that I spoke to him, he finally spoke back to me, after a while. “I’m a stray. I don’t have a home, or people who miss me.” I felt a bit sorry for him so I stayed to talk. “What about friends? You must have some of those.” He looked at me strange. “No, no friends. It’s just me.” I walked closer to him. “Aren’t you lonely?” He smiled, or what looked like a smile a cross his puppy face. “How can I be lonely when I have some one like you to talk to.” I felt my body turn warm. How could a puppy, a dog, do this to me. “First, puppy, I’m a cat. You should be trying to eat me, or something. Second, I’m a house cat not a street cat, and I don’t need a street dog as my friend.” I saw as his puppy face turned cloudy and dark. I thought for a while then gave in. “Fine you can be my friend.” His head popped up and he started licking me out of excitement. “Oh this is so great I mean I haven’t had some one to play with in the longest.” He started jumping around, I felt a bit happy to see him this way. “Come on Miss. Kitty, let’s play.” He started running and I just looked at him. He didn’t look where he was running to. “PUPPY, LOOK OUT.” I had to yell but it came too late. He had run right into the light pole. ‘Oh no’ I thought running up to him. His snout was dripping bits of blood and I began to cry a bit. “Puppy? Puppy, get up. Please get up.” I then fully started to cried. I thought he was dead. I laid my head on his chest. “Oh, please get up.” I cried when I heard a laugh. I looked up to see him looking at me with the biggest eyes of amusement. “I’m ok.” Was all he said. I was upset, of how much he scared me. I got up still half crying. “I HATE YOU, AND THAT WAS CRUEL.” I yelled turning and running away. I felt a cold wind pass me. I came to a sudden stop to see the puppy in front of me. I stopped and he kissed me. Not like before this time it seemed like a real….Pet kiss. He came in close to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” I was stunned and unable to speak. “You can stay in my home, if you would like.” Is all I said. He smiled and agreed. After a while I couldn’t believe what I had just said, but then I remembered he is just a lost puppy.

Jennifer Vila

Clandestine Facts Inside Stitches.
By Jennifer Vila
Sure, this girl was gorgeous, your stereotypical beauty pageant queen. She owned this thick auburn-colored mane that downwardly flowed like a cascade and stopped right at the middle of her back. Her eyes always lit with icy blue fire which could smolder you until you had to give in to her splendor. She was full of life and had everything any girl, probably even a few guys, could ever ask for, but to be trapped in such a horrific place seemed incongruous to where she belonged…and yet it fit her. She belonged to a world not known to the mediocre lives surrounding her. She learned quickly and at a young age that not knowing enough is dangerous and that knowing too much is deadly. She was not a vacuous being. On the contrary, she probably had so much in her head that it set her apart. It caused her to have this furtive type of knowledge, and if it were revealed, her life would be in jeopardy…and yet she was light as feather when her graceful silhouette entered a room.
Time loosening its grasp on her was not an option. She had a decision to make and there were only two choices: speak or die. No one knows why she had to speak but everyone was extremely aware of what she had to reveal. She had to expose her endless amount of secrets, the ones she had put an infinite amount of effort in just to make sure humanity would never know.
She found herself running in some sort of forest, an incinerated one. All that could be heard was the faint shuffle of her feet moving rapidly across a clearing. The forest on each side looked untouched. The evergreens were standing perfectly as if no fire has ever touched them. They portrayed this majesty only some can imagine and those who experience it are speechless. The grass surrounding them was this gorgeous green you only see in magnificent paintings. The scene to each side of her was picturesque, yet the clearing she ran through was nothing less of depressing. The grass was dead, all yellowed and a faded brown. The path was rough, full of a dry kind of dirt that every time one of her feet made an impact on the ground dust flew up. She kept running, yet the sound was faded. Her head was pounding and her ears ringing. Through the evergreens, like high velocity winds, the ghosts of her terrors tormented whatever was left of her sanity. They repeated these words over and over, overlapping one another, “Thou shan’t divulge clandestine haven”.
She wanted to scream, she was ready to expose the lies she concealed deep in her being. There was one problem: she couldn’t. She tried but no sound came out. She continued to strive to try to make some sort of noise for what seemed like beyond an eternity, but all she continued to hear was soft shuffle of her feet impacting the ground as she continued to run deeper into the clearing which seemed to have no end. Finally, she trips, landing on her knees.
In front of her was a puddle of murky water. She examined the revulsion that was clearly publicized right before her eyes. Her reflection resembling someone unfamiliar yet someone she knew for years. The horror of her reflection stood out more than her physical features’ drastic alteration. She realized right at that moment why nothing but silence came out of her mouth. The black lines holding her mouth tightly from the top end of her lips to bottom end multiple times.
Her mouth was stitched up. Her eyes dead. He her hair flat. She had always been pale, but now she resembled those in a morgue waiting to be examined. Abruptly, a blade flew past her, barely brushing the side of her right cheek. It scraped and cut the outside of her ear. She yearned to scream, the pain was excruciating. Tragically, she couldn’t. She just let a single tear slide slickly out her left eye, caressing the side of her nose but yet felt like acid.
She picked the blade up and put it at the very edge of her closed lips that resembled a motionless, straight line. She made her choice, she was ready to move that blade across. Then, a dark shadow descends upon her. A bony, ice-cold hand rests upon her shoulder beginning to tighten its grip and it says, “Do it. Go ahead. Your life was a catch-22 from the moment you were conceived…Thou shan’t divulge clandestine haven”.

David Dominguez

Absence

There

Their

They're

Gone,

All.

Paradise will come

Days end in night

When the sleeping dream of other planes

I dream of nothing

Black is all I can remember

Paradise will come!

In the daytime,

People walk about the streets and converse

I stay in my room

Searching for truth and purpose

Paradise will come!