Masquerade By Jessica WarrenWe all dance at the masquerade ballWith a painted face upon us allWe all hide our face behind a maskHiding all that is wrong so no one will askWe all hide everything we fearBehind the mask we scream but no one hearsNo one can know what’s behind the facadeLest everyone begin to judge the oddIf there is a crack in the mask put another one onLest your secret identity be goneSo we all dance to the tune called lifeA tune that is long and filled with strifeBut what will happen to us allWhen the clock strikes 12 at the masquerade ball? 49Volume 52
Rain and Flowers By Emily Avery A skipping click of shoes with the voice of a newborn fawn Brown hair that curled, yet seemed fried, Flew into the wind and thrived in the rain She carried an umbrella, with a pattern so hypnotic you couldn’t help but smile. Even if she wasn’t her best, flowers would bloom, and birds would sing. She is her own darkness, and her own light. And if she cried today, her laughs would come tomorrow. Like flowers blooming in the rain.50 Voices and Visions
Greenhouse PhotographyBy Heather Buckley 51Volume 52
Trendy Tiles Photography By Kaylee Janickey52 Voices and Visions
Antwerpen by Holly RobinsonThings are prettier hereBuildings all made out of old detailed bricksAged with every century that has passedGold statues stand on every roofAll representing something differentThe butcher’s guild, the diamonds guildCobblestone streets authentically laid by a hundred workersYears of Catholic suppression resulting in a Virgin Mary on every cor-nerAll unique in their own interpretationIt’s a city with a purposeEverything is laid out in extravagant twists and turnsIt’s all interconnected all different parts but in the end it’s all AntwerpOne part is all riches with clothing stores on every streetAnother, a long sidewalk with chocolate shops, pubs, and a zooIn one section lays three courtyards, the guilds, the riches, the cobbledstreetsIt is allAntwerpen 53Volume 52
Stockholm By Brooke RichardThe summer never called me Would it have brown eyes?Only did the fall Maybe blue?It never spoke my name Definitely not green.In whispers strangely small Would it be the most hideousBut so loud I could hear them Or the most beautifulOver the crunching of dead leaves face I’d ever seen?So loud that I hid behind Would I have an infatuation?Blankets and long sleeves Even though it has trapped me for soIt’s raspy voice of whistling wind longBeckoning me So any little thing it didLike a long lost friend Made my heart beat strongThat I’ll never be able to abandon Would I fall in love?I’ve tried to leave too many times With the sound of the windIt knows I want to go Singing its own songBut will it ever let me? And maybe even one dayI don’t think I’ll ever know. I would sing alongThe lost souls swirl around me Will I ever escape?Screaming but I can’t hear That’s something I’ve never been toldWhispering terrible nothings Because everyone around hereThat I can feel in my ear seems to knowHeld captive by the cold You can’t escape the cold.I need a fireplaceAnd though its hand I always holdI’ve never seen its face54 Voices and Visions
Mirror PhotographyBy AJ Prudham 55Volume 52
Chain Linked Photography By Heather Buckley56 Voices and Visions
Grey & Green By Kevin MullissFearful grey rectangles force adversary green masses to the edge.Here, and in other similar places, injustice like this is normal.But in the green,In the grass,In the trees,At the edge,The masses of green reveal themselves to be the objects of beauty.In places such as this, wherever they are relegated to,People can find not just truth, but relation.Familiarity with nature outweighs the encroachingMasses of concrete, brick, glass, and mortar.Familiarity driven by history with nature,Not an excess of human constructions. 57Volume 52
Riley by Bethany Blalock You brought so much joy into my life From the moment you were brought Through the door. Your woofs and barks were joyous As we played But too soon, they became deeper And less frequent. Your fur became faded Like some of my memories Of you. You had helped me But when you got sick I didn’t know how to help you. So I told you it would be okay. And then you were gone. Finally not in pain. Of course, it left me in a heartbroken state And it still can. But a small price to pay For you To be okay.58 Voices and Visions
Molly PhotographyBy Audrey Harper 59Volume 52
Secrets Photography By Shael Stromburg-Brusco60 Voices and Visions
The Bench on Bent Creek By Elisabeth SuttonThe sound of rushing water Head over heels.Drowns out the beats of my heart So, I look up at the leafy canopyAnd thoughts in my head Spread out above meAbsolute calm meets And I allow myself to float.Absolute chaos, There is silence, for a whileThe world falls out from under me Until the beats and thoughts andI am helpless, rushingAt the mercy of what is left around me Overcome the peace once moreUntil i reach the end of the drop This time, I don’tAnd after the waterfall Reach out for anything that willThe current carries me onward, Stop meEven as I claw at exposed roots Or even slow me downAnd grooves on a smooth rock This time, I don’tAnd green moss dried on the bank. Reach out for anything that willTake me back. Stop meThere is no going back. Or even slow me downI took the leap of faith This time, I dontAnd landed in a pool Use what is aroundWith no idea of what was under the To save mesurface I trust in myselfLurking I trust in the processThen I trust in the currentSerenityI am no longer spinning, Pull me to the edge of the world 61Volume 52
I am My Monster By Julia ForkI stare into the golden mirror, the reflection of my fading youth. The per-son I see has nice blue eyes that fade into the murky blackness of theircornea. They also have a faded, mocha colored pixie cut that’s overgrownlike an unkempt garden. Their lips are chapped and red, with bits of skinraised from being picked off with too much care. I move my gaze fromtheir face, to their body. On their arms, I see faded scars. Not from selfharm. No. Never from self harm. But scars from past lives. Faded as thememories of their past slowly drift away into the sea of the forgotten.Their stomach is pulled out, filled with fat and quenched hunger. Theylook a bit bloated as well, uncomfortable in their own skin. Their pants arelong, covering their legs completely, as to hide from the chance that theydidn’t shave them. Then, their boots. I only see the top, but I know there’sa hole in the heel. Otherwise, their boots are a nice blue-gray color.They’re also warm. Good for winter. Not so good for the upcoming spring,however. With much trouble, I pull my gaze back to their face, the coloralmost completely gone from it. They’re almost completely gray. Their hairslowly slips from the top of their broken glasses to the front of them, hid-ing their eyes from my view. I wonder where their spark went. I wonderwhat took them from the light and sent them plunging into darkness. Thisisn’t a human. This is a demon. This… monster that hides their eyes frommy reflection is the worst of its kind. Why? Because it made itself this way.It tore it’s skin off in slimy strips and sewed them back on roughly, with nocare. It ripped its hair out and let it grow out of control. It broke the deli-cate glass in its eyes so it couldn’t see the path it was walking on anymore.I stare at this monster in disgust. It’s given up.62 Voices and Visions aklcmklandsvjfkdaljnfadlkvna
This horrible, horrible monster has given up. And, here I am watching it.It carefully brings it’s hand to its glasses, brushing the hair out of its eyesand carefully staring into mine. I bring my hand down, staring at the evilfigure ahead of me. We stand like that for a long time. Then, it begins tospeak. “I see someone with blue eyes full of passion and emotion.” It says,bringing itself closer to the mirror so it can see better through crackedlenses. “I see someone who picks at their lips due to force of habit, andwho embraces their scars rather than being embarrassed by them.” Their gaze moves down. “I see someone who doesn’t mind their weight,I see someone who doesn’t mind having cold feet, who will just patch upthe hole and continue walking rather than having a complete fit over abroken shoe.” They take a step back. “The creature I see, their emotionscontrol them, bringing them doubt and many troubles. But, then there’sthis creatures logic, able to tell them that everything is going to be okay..”They pause for an everlasting moment. “This creature I see has alwayscalled itself a monster, a despicable creature of its own creation. Some-thing that should not be allowed to exist… but in reality, it isn’t.” Theylook me in the eyes. “Humans created the idea of good and evil, and thecreature ahead of me can never decide which it truly is. But, that’s whythe creature ahead of me is so undoubtedly human.” My reflection stopstalking, carefully taking a moment to let it all sink in.I stare into the now silver mirror. My reflection remains a cold gray, butat the same time filled with radiant color. A strange sensation rises up mychest, pulling salty tears from my eyes. I’m not sad though. I smile as I cry,and for once my reflection truly smiles with me.XZXCvcxvcxZXJCblkjCNJHfuchuhBkncZl 63Volume 52
Strange Bird Calls By Alex CraigNoise rings out behind my window and the curtain covering it.The noise doesn’t interest me at first, my nose in a book and my mind on itsmeaningAs I conscious begins to listen, I realize this noise is not one I remember hear-ing beforeAt first I dismiss it as dogs belonging to some elder, but they noise was toohigh for dogs, it didn’t fitIt didn’t echo over the land as dog cries tend to, it flowed through the air inan alien sort of hovering.A light fastened above my garage and a streetlamp in the distance offeredonly a dim glow and a distant pinprick of light against the darkness, with themoon turning the sky a deep, deep blue, one unmatched by the darkest wa-ters of the sea where light’s fingertips can barely reach.The noise sounded somewhat like geese, but without the honking, as ifsomeone who had never heard a goose was tasked with imitating the soundit would make.As I stuck my head out the window, the sound was always the same distanceaway, never nearing nor leaving.I persisted for a few moments in the blue and black outside, not until it fadedawayBut until it came less frequently, then stopped all together.My head stayed outside my window for a few moments more,admiring the light of the few kind stars that were generous enough to shineupon my neighborhood.A chilled February breeze blew by me and over the shingles my elbows rest-ed on.I pulled my head back inside, and closed the window a little bitBut left it more open than it was before, because missed feeling the Night’sloving chill, and wanted to let it know I was there.64 Voices and Visions
Voices and Visions 2017 - 2018 Editor-in-Chief: Alex Craig Design Editors: Randon Jones, Julia Fork Submissions Editors: Josh Tate, Ethan Sears, Joshua Cunnigham Acknowledgements Voices and Visions would like to thank all of the students who submitted their wonderful pieces to the magazine. All of them wereamazing, and we’re deeply sorry we cannot use them all. We appreciate all of the teachers that helped encourage students to submit their pieces to the magazine. Specifically we would like to extend our gratitude to Mr. Nobblitt and the creative writing classes, for helpingmake this magazine possible. Finally we would like to thank Mr. Palmer for supporting us through the buildingof this magazine while still allowing us the right amount of creative freedom.
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