Inferno

Allen Community College Literary Online Magazine

Fall 2011

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Editorial Board

Christina Sewell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .English Instructor Creative Writing Sponsor

Contest Review Board Deb Erikson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Biology Instructor Jon Wells. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . History Instructor Phi Theta Kappa Sponsor Bruce Symes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Writing Center Director Ann Lindbloom. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..Online Coordinator

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Contents 5 Poetry Contest 1st Place Winner

Freed Christina Lewis 7 Poetry Contest 2nd Place Winner

Meteor Showers Donnie Nichols 8 Poetry Contest 3rd Place Winner

Stormy Weather Casey Ables 9 Poetry Contest 3rd Place Winner

I Saw a Tree and It Reminded Me of You Adam Diehl 10 Fireflies Anna K. Hefley 12 He Loves the Whole World 12 A Beautiful Clash of History 13 You Will Be a Keepsake in the Sand Jacqueline Allen 15 Elevator 17 Tarantino 19 Raymond Chandler Jacob Leeper 20 Challenges 20 Rodeo Cowboy Bonnie Buss 21 Live Today, Give Tomorrow 22 Remember 23 You Were Once Mine 24 Some Things Never End Adam Diehl 25 Why Did You Have to Go

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Brianna Holliday 26 Stranger 27 Bully Michael Jenkins 28 Success Story

Doug Smithart 29 Arian Eclipse 30 Fidelity 31 Break Away 32 Succubus James Lewis 33 Take Notice Kristen Powell 34 The Morning Hunt Samantha Tellefson 35 Amarante Sword Adam Diehl

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1st Place Creative Writing Club Poetry Contest Christina Lewis is a resident of the historical capital of Topeka, Kansas. She is number 2 of 7 children, so naturally her future profession will center around children. She attends Allen Community College on the Burlingame Campus for her associate’s degree in Child Psychology. She has a heart for kids, diabetes, child abuse, and twhola awareness groups. She loves poetry, oldies, her relationship with God, art, history, astronomy, philosophy, fishing, gardening, psychology, and the crazy beautiful life she lives.

Freed Christina Lewis

Dark Quiet Lonely If only

Consuming Engulfing

My mind is choking on. Dark Quiet Lonely If only

Blinking rapidly Breathing passively

Open eyes wide Not literally, Just mentally

Closed eyes see vividly In tune with self, Reach inside

Towards the bright lights that grow dim as I swim down I am not a swimmer… what if I drown?

Only anticipated fighting the current for a minute these minutes are infinite

below the surface the sky resembles chards of broken crystals. The birds like doves and this anchor… love?

Rain… Dew! Broken… Anew!

Drown… Resuscitate! Anchored… Freed!

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My eyes do see. BOTH… mentally and peripherally! Dark Quiet Lonely If only

Consuming Engulfing

My mind is choking on… Dark Quiet Lonely If only

But at peace Do you remember what came after anchored?

Freed.

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2nd Place Creative Writing Club Poetry Contest

Donnie Nichols is from Garnett, KS. He has always written poetry and journals, but his real passion is music. He has wanted to be a singer since he could speak. Donnie is a student at Allen Community College on the Iola Campus.

Meteor Showers

Donnie Nichols

I remember the fateful night when we sat at our hiding spot, To see a meteor shower late at night, As we watch I start to think, Where do they go and what do they await, I thought and thought how beautiful they were, And the one I was with was very similar, As we laid there I began to think, We had a lot in common, The meteor showers and me, They would zip across the sky, Bright and blue like my crying eyes, But I knew this would not last, Once their gone their not coming back, That’s how I feel now I'm alone, What awaits me I already know, My heart beats thousands of times, When I'm around you Laugh or cry, They were one of the many, Fondest memories that will never leave me, Even I already know, That the memories for you faded like snow, Now my heart barely beats, Or at least the spot where my heart should be, It seems you left with the meteors, One final flash and gone forever, So I say take my heart, I won't use it until death do me part, But I have the night we watched the stars, Bright and blue like our eyes, That met on such a glorious night, While tears of happiness fell to our chins,

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But at least I have the night, We watched the blue fiery shooting lights.

3rd Place Creative Writing Club Poetry Contest

Carey Ables is 35 years old and married with two children. She has been a certified nurse’s assistant off/on for last 18 years. Along with working part time night shift as a CAN, she is now attending part time at Allen taking online college classes with the goal of getting an AA in special education/early education teaching. This is her 3rd year as a volunteer Girl Scout member for her daughter's troop. On Facebook she started a group called HAHAHA which stands for Healing Attainable Hearts Available Humor Appreciated. There are about 30 or so members in the little family. As long as she can remember writing and poetry has been a major outlet.

Stormy Weather

Carey Ables There are times when we feel like the stormy weather... When life is so hard and we don't know how to make it better... Being blown around by the powerful wind... Feeling lost and alone without a friend... The thunder rumbles and shakes... Trying to figure out how to fix all our mistakes... Lightning strikes from all around... Screaming inside but cannot voice a sound... Stumbling along in life drenched by the rain... Trying to find shelter from the stormy weather and the pain...

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3rd Place Creative Writing Club Poetry Contest Adam Diehl is a sophomore at Allen Community College on the Iola Campus. He plans on continuing his education and going into some form of reaching.

I Saw a Tree and It Reminded Me

Adam Diehl I saw a tree and it reminded me of you. Then I saw a rock and it did too. I stepped over a puddle that was that was the color of your eyes. I looked up and saw a sky that was the same color to my surprise. I heard a bird that stole your laugh. Then I thought I heard it again but in a mooing calf. I saw a sign that made me think your name, it said stop. I saw another that reminded me of your smile, it said sudden drop.

I saw a girl who looked just like you with blonde hair. Then I saw her twin this time only much older and grayer.

I saw or heard or felt you everywhere. Inside or out. Day or night. You were every sound and every sight. I closed my eyes to see if that would end it. But then I just dreamt it. I don’t know what to do so I guess I won’t do much. See, just writing that reminded me of your touch!

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Fireflies

Anna K. Hefley

The summer night air wrapped around our bodies like a blanket, no breeze even to dry the moisture of sweat from our faces. Stars illuminated the sky like holes poked through a sheet of tar. The moon hung low and fat, an orange ball suspended from invisible strings in the darkness. The only other light came from the wild fireflies, dancing like excited ghosts, there and then gone, there and then gone.

Barefoot, dirty, drunk on a day’s worth of sunshine, my children chased the lightening bugs with empty, washed out baby food jars, holes punched carefully in the metal lids. Laughter and shouts of, “Over there!” and “Get that one!” echoed back to us, absorbed by the surrounding trees and handed back to us like ghost gifts to double our weary happiness.

When the jars were full, three dirty faces, six grubby hands held out four jars of glowing magic to me like an offering. There was one for each of the ghost fly chasers and an extra for me to share with the baby sleeping peacefully on a blanket in the grass nearby.

In contented silence, we watched the whimsical sparkles, fluttering like imagination in their tiny cages. It seemed like hours, our silence and watching, before the lights began to dim and slow, fewer and farther between. The children sighed, almost collectively, knowing what was coming next. The beautiful fairy bugs were dying in captivity, desperate to be set loose. It was hard every time to say good-bye, but if something magical begins to die, there is no choice but to set it free.

Opening the lids in unspoken agreement, we all stared upward in breathless amazement as the lights found their way out into the night. Clustered together at first, they suddenly spread, flying up until they were no longer prisoners in broken bodies, until they blended indistinguishably from the stars.

Though that particular night seemed unexplainably remarkable even at the time, I never knew that those moments could be drawn from later while learning a valuable lesson. I did not think at the time that one picturesque experience would be the basis of the most important decision of my life.

Three months later, when the air had cooled, when our freed fairy captives long lay dormant and sleeping until next year’s spectacular show, we sat in a sterile, white lit room. There were no smiles, no happy laughter, only weariness not expressible in words. Everything had changed only hours before when my car was struck from behind by a careless driver.

The vehicle had come out of nowhere, twisting metal, shattering glass, surprising us all with the viciousness of life that can change a world before an eye has time to blink. Four of us walked away from the crash but two-year-old Jacob never walked again.

Watching him in the washed out room, laying among the tubes and wires, lost in the hospital’s sanitary sheets, I saw his light begin to dim and slow, fewer and farther between. His chest still moved with manufactured, mechanical breath but something was lost, drastically different. His soft, pink, toddler skin was pale and empty, like a firefly with a burned out soul.

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Jacob had always been magical, a perfect fairy bug, but where once he was free, he was now caught in a washed out cage. At one time, his effervescent spirit had laughed in the moonlight, run in the rain, and danced in the sparkling, crystalline snow. But in the hospital room on that poignant day, I held his limp hand in mine and was faced with a decision that no parent should have to make - whether to maintain his life support in hopes that he would wake against all odds, or to discontinue the machines that kept him artificially breathing.

Sitting in the hard-backed chair next to his bed, I remembered the summer and the fireflies, the moon and the contented laughter. I considered the disappointment in this little boy’s eyes when the lids came off of the jars and his beautiful friends flew feely away. I thought of his satisfied understanding when I explained to him that if something magical begins to die, there is no choice but to set it free. The option suddenly seemed remarkably clear.

My very own firefly left like a gentle springtime rain, suddenly and softly, in the protection of my aching arms. The machines stilled their persistent noise as my fairy bug’s soul left a broken body, scattering upward, becoming indistinguishable from the autumn stars.

I learned from one enchanted night that sometimes things can be so beautiful that they are not meant to be contained. I learned that when the impulse comes to hold onto what is fading, it may be just the time to let it go.

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He Loves the Whole World

Jacqueline Allen I wasn’t born into the kind of family that pulled together Prayers for a stranger after days of demands from God But I came across one somewhere in the Midwest When the world declared my story and me a fraud And I walked out of the hospital with a different life And a whole new diagnosis and family to match it with So that when the day came to fight with angels and machines I could sleep knowing there wasn’t need to hold my breath And I sobbed and collapsed and fell into disbelief With the knowledge that not quite everything had been lost And the birth of family and the truth of hope made me stand From the place where I fell with nothing but fingers crossed

A Beautiful Flash of History

Jacqueline Allen The smell of a second hand book And the frayed strings of the tattered binding Seeing a friend go jogging under the sun Who died two long years back The scar you've resented all your life Being kissed into something perfect Chain smoking in the front seat of the car And ignoring the calls of those worried about you Midnight drives to the top of the world With drug-induced stories of falling in love A shoe box full of secrets in letters A rose, and a cigarette between your cleavage The first look of never-ending plains In all their glorious significance It was all so beautiful I could almost call it home.

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You Will Be a Keepsake in the Sand

Jacqueline Allen My fingers on the keyboard turn you into keepsakes in a wooden box carved with paisley engravings. It is lined with the finest red velvet for you to dwell in, alongside a bracelet from 1998, a faded sticker, a letter to my future self And night terrors. Always night terrors in my box of you. A bedroom, endless fields of sunflowers, three lines of coke, a black and white striped set of sheets, and a dancing pine tree through the bedroom window. Sometimes you are arranged next to a prayer I whispered under my breath during the birth of fall - 1999. Sometimes you are not. Sometimes you are alone under green, metal stairs with chipping paint. Sometimes you are scattered about a heap of thin slices of the sun, smiles revealing wooden teeth behind peeling and chapped lips, trash bags full of beer bottles, yellowing books hidden amongst rows of corn, cigarette butts of Virginia Slim 120s. Maybe you are in the sandbox today, or tossed across the Midwest and into the ocean. Maybe you are wrapped inside of a torn satin nightgown meant to stay a secret. Sometimes when I open the box you are bathing in song lyrics and acrylic paint and you echo them up to me in a small voice, usually your eyes are green. Sometimes you are reborn out of margaritas and hits off the blunt, and sometimes you creep up behind me in my sleep. Sometimes you are hiding in a bottle of pills shaded in every color or offices of doctors with names that can't be pronounced in the Kansas City skyline. When I pry into your home I make wishes about who you will look like or what you will be with. I always check for scars and bruises. Sometimes you don't have any at all. Sometimes I wish for you to be embedded in the death of 1969. When I turn you into keepsakes in a wooden box I become powerful because you have reason to be kept, or you become a ghost runner on third. You will be gifted no tears when I seek your red, velvet interior, Instead I will let you feel the soft creases of my hands from digging up the earth thrice over to find you again. I bury you too deep or not deep enough. Sometimes when I open the box you are dead. You wear a pink t-shirt and khaki pants and you drip with man-made rivers. Sometimes you are wearing black pants and a band t-shirt and you tell me to fuck off before finding the belt around your waist. Your eyes light up and then they don't. Sometimes you are burning the tips of permanent markers and quickly pressing them against your nose or pulling joints out of your plastic, chopped up world. Other times there is a party, and you are undressing in the parking lot with a blonde-haired stranger who has no last name, letting his fingers disappear between your legs while your teeth start to grind and your eyes start to bleed. Sometimes I leave the box closed and resting in my fingers, and I listen.

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If I am lucky there is a harmonica cooing out "Blue Moon" through the humidity so beautifully I could go mad. Sometimes there is a bridge, or a closet, or a hospital bed, or a funeral, or sixteen absent Mondays and a pile of steaming hotcakes. Sometimes you are yelling at an aspiring novelist who doesn't believe in the legitimacy of non-fiction literature that put his hands on you in front of the frogs. Sometimes you are packing your bags for Ireland just for the inspiration. Sometimes I open the box and you are not inside, and sometimes there is no box- Just night terrors and a series of lullabies And I am naming the monkeys on my back while I put you back into the warmth of Kansas earth.

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Elevator

Jacob Leeper

“Ahh Hell!” the janitor said. “Just my damn luck. Ya know this is just the kinda bullshit that happens to me.” The elevator was stopped now no more shaking, no more moving at all just hanging thereby its cables. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Are we gonna die like this?” the copy woman said. “Just can’t die like this, I like working here good insurance and dental. ” “Even better I was born a negro and now I’m gonna die with miss bi-polar copy bitch, shoot me now somebody please,” the janitor added. She looked like she’d been hit in the gut “Well I’ll tell… “Hey hey hey now! That’s enough!,” the young cop said. “ Let’s all just chill out for a second and let’s see if we can’t get this thing moving ok folks.” “Shut the fuck up! How old are you? 18! You probably still piss yourself,” as the copy lady was expressing a side of herself named Agnes now. “I told ya’ll, we gon need an exorcist, damn she devil,” the janitor noted. “I thought hurricane season was over,” as the stoner tried reciting a nick at night classic. The hanging car went silent for a second to soak up the statement. “Oh you too, you know your white don’t ya,” as she smacked the youngster upside the head. “It’s just TV, not cool man,” as the bewildered teen rubbed his temple. “Mam, I’m gonna have to ask you to not do that again ok?” as the static from his radio then blasted throughout the large tomb. Alright, alright everyone I just got word from my superiors, their on top of this dilemma as we speak so let’s try to stay calm,” the policeman pleaded. “You! You stupid, stupid man! You’re not a cop you give parking tickets to people like that good for nothing janitor so called man back there. Ha ha I don’t have to listen to you boy.” As he now looked like a lost child, “ I know it’s true I just thought, hey this could be my chance to be a hero ya know. I’m tired of putting tickets in wind shield wipers, I want to make a difference.”

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The woman roared with laughter and said, “You pathetic little shit! I can just see the patheticism leak out of your pathetic little body. Take that stun gun they give you and shoot it down your throat. Here I’ll help you ok, you’re welcome,” as she flipped off the castrated man standing at her knees. “Yeah man that chick’s wicked dude, like the wicked witch of the west and Lorraina Bobbit wicked man.” “You know you’re right, lil stoner man, and I’ll tell ya another thing,” the janitor said. “I’m sorry for ya gettin smacked in the head and for what I’m bouts to do, my life‘s a travesty, one big horrible tale of irony.” He nodded sure…”Ya that’s cool man I understand, but then I don‘t so…” The doors opened; the woman threw the blunted young man down, and took off down the hall way. “Ya see that devil woman son? That’s my wife. Sure, she was okay at one point, but I settled. Do ya hear me? I settled! Don’t settle, you’ll be just like me old, senile, and cleaning shitty toilets jus ta get away from your wife.”

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Tarantino

Jacob Leeper

I led Ms. Hilson out the lobby and we were coming to the med center’s exit. It’s one of those spinning death trap concoctions, to which I never really saw a point. Supposed better traffic flow I guess. “You better watch out Jamie, I don’t want my Louie bag getting ripped about,” Ms. Hilson reminded. At this point I don’t care it’s so close I can taste it. This woman’s a real wench, rest in peace father but how’d you do it? Yes James, that’s what she thinks my name is but calls me Jamie since it reminds her of talking with some female companion. So five husbands later one being of significance to me, she is just what I pictured; a self-delusional, self-centered, and even self loathing woman. She takes difficult to deal with, seem like a dream, so one errand done a whole painful day to go. Coughing away she grabs for another Virginia slim, I think they just send them to her by now. Fifty years in a cloud of smoke has left her with a few health issues however, and wouldn’t ya know I was right here to assist her when she needed somebody. “Doctors ugh! They think they know everything. Jaime, get the door already, please do remind me what I’m paying you for.? By now the best thing I’ve learned to do is keep quiet, and she’ll just answer her own questions with more questions. Yes it could get quite belittling to a Jamie, but hey I’m not Jamie so who cares what she says about him. I had to roll the window down as the car filled with smoke, hate smokers. “Hey Ms. Hilson you may want to turn your oxygen down while you smoke.” Actually blow yourself up just when I’m not around. “That’s quite dangerous you know.” “Ahh Jamie my boy, you’re paid to drive me to errands, not give life counseling. If I need you I‘ll ask umkay.” Unbelievable… She bent down to turn the oxygen knob, then I heard a hissing sound. Before I could look over, poof! The sound and blast of an overly anxious gas grill was right next to my face, the smell is horrible. Ms. Hilson was screaming for me to help, but I was a giddy as a senior on prom night. Her hair was engulfed in a fireball, so I reached down and turned her oxygen off because hey I could get burnt to. We

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pulled over after that, the sounds of rush hour all around us. That’s all I did though, as she smacked herself upside the head trying to put a sparkless flame out. She realized it was out and started to cry, “Are you happy now, I see that smirk on your face real fucking funny isn’t it you little,” as she searched, “ass clown! This was my favorite wig. Do you know what it’s like being a woman of my stature having to wear a wig?” Ass clown huh, that’s funny Ms. Hilson. “No um I don‘t actually. You see I’m driving right? I couldn’t very well of jeopardized our lives right then.” I wished to disappear for five minutes, holding back was beginning to be painful. “Take me to Annie’s Hair right now, the Arabian horse collections came in last week. I know just which one I want.”

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Raymond Chandler

Jacob Leeper

It was a warm day with not a cloud in the sky, the ground rumbled from the massive wave of human resistance. Giant oak trees towered over the campus and rocked back and forth with each gust of wind. They wanted to stand against all that was wrong with their world, while also trying to change the rest. It was a familiar scene on many a college campuses’ across the United States; minorities, women, gays, everybody disagreed with the government on something. Today it was anti-war and an especially large volume of folks turned out for the political roast. Tension was rising as the crowd noticed a row of riot police at the top of hill, they chanted louder in response. The number of riot control had grown significantly in a short period, it didn’t take a fool to know or feel something was coming down on this small campus. He may have just went to school to avoid war, now it‘s, from classes to protests, to the recent vegan diet all because of her. She is everything he wanted; smart, attractive, personable, and extremely opinionated. Together hand and hand they marched with the rest of their generation, a big middle finger to big brother from everyone. Together with the window pane they are one and together forever is all that matters. She broke free from a tight fist right wing upbringing when the California sun came calling. Independent, and with worries of her own Susan found a purpose when faced with hallucinogenic and the revolution. The freedom was now flowing through her or maybe it was the pot.

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Challenges

Bonnie Buss

When we are born we start with challenges. We learn to eat and walk as babies. When a child is school age, the challenge is passing through to the next school year.

The teenager’s challenge is to graduate or not. The challenge in adult life is survival. Some people cannot face life and die. Most of do what we got to do and go with the flow. Our grandparents are faced with the reality of getting old. Grandchildren often teach the grandparents new technology. Learning new is a challenge within itself. Most of our challenges are made to make us stronger. Each challenge prepares us for the next one. We are faced with challenges until we die.

RODEO COWBOY

Bonnie Buss

Cowboy shirts Cowboy boots Wrangler jeans

and all in between Ride the horses and

Ride the broncs in style Makes watching all worthwhile

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Live Today, Give Tomorrow

Adam Diehl

Where did you think your life was going to lead? I tried to warn you that nothing was guaranteed.

You lived like there would be no tomorrow Spent everything you had on today and now forced to borrow. You tried once too often to get the stone too bleed now they’re coming to stone your greed. Everything's eventual that’s why the worlds round Your hidden sins of yesterday Will sure as the world turns come back around. So don’t live for this world, it leaves you with nothing in the end. just piled up debt and last year’s worn out trend. So if you feel you're fleeing from moments that are fleeting and your legs are getting weak Stop chasing human beings find some good seating and look before you seek. There are answers if you'll take the time to ask And all that other stuff? Well what’s passed is past.

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Remember

Adam Diehl

Do you remember that time you were sick and stayed up all night

And so did I.

Do you remember that time we saw a puppy on the side of the road and you asked if we could take it

home

And I said alright?

And the time she got hit by the car and how much you cried

And how I called into work to stay by your side.

Do you remember asking if I wanted a friend or bride

And handing you a ring I said both cuz I couldn’t decide

Do you remember doing all those new things you'd never tried

Or how seeing you enjoy them lit me up inside.

Do you remember your fingers laced in mine

And that hospital room into which we brought new life?

Do you remember watching our child learn and grow

And how you taught her to sing and I taught her how to throw.

Do you remember....do you remember your fingers laced in mine....

And that hospital room where we said our last goodbye?

Do you remember...please remember....cuz that’s all I have left, you see

Just these sweet and perfect memories.

If you can hear me up there, please remember.

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You Were Mine Once Adam Diehl I've seen rain to make you dirty I've seen rain to make you clean I've seen rivers, lakes and oceans But I prefer the stream. The one we threw rocks in when we first met that spring still there’s not a night when I don't have that dream. And our lives took different routes Sometimes that’s just the case But no matter where I end up I won’t forget that face. I took my time getting to this place But now that I'm here I think I'm gonna stay Cuz everything I had in you here I get a trace So sometime when you're tired from the walking And you feel your life is all but spent Close your eyes and think of me And remember what we meant. We had something the world wished it had Something they could never understand Look at the sky and tell me it’s not blue And you'll know how I feel when I say I don't love you.

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Some Things Never End Adam Diehl This is the beginning of the end And if it weren’t for you my friend I would've broken as opposed to bend. Oh and how I’ve made my case Out of glued together twigs and an enchanted mace. and I remember vividly that look upon your face. You always come back to my rock when you meet a hard place. We were children once but that is where you stay And that cat is cute until it runs away. So don’t complain to me if that’s all you have to say. I've been bought and paid for and traded away. I know better than most you get out of life what you pay. So does my star still shine for you Or is that just the moon? I'll tell you now and then not another word Geese mate for life and they're just stupid birds. I hope that smile means you understand That our days are numbered like the sand. And if you don’t mind the beach then take my hand. There’s a sunset calling the two of us and it promises to be grand.

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Why did you have to go

Brianna Holliday Why did you have to go To leave me all alone Here by myself You were my inspiration The reason I write I always looked up to you You were always there for me Now you not You're nowhere to be found You were more than my brother You were my best friend How can there be a god If he took you away from You were too young I think about you all the time People say I need to let go I can't, I won't I need you So why did you have to go

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Stranger Michael Jenkins Walking down the streets, an awkward silence follows me Oblivious to the people I may encounter or the warm faces I may meet This calm feeling overwhelms me, the eyes of a visitor scares me He shakes my hand to be a friendly neighbor A foreigner with no credentials is all he is to me Name, occupation, and favorite things is all hidden from me It is the silence in our greeting that scares the citizen He walks away with a painful expression Silently thinking to myself that he learned his lesson I come across another person with a kid Her kid is running around in the park The little she knows about a new individual is a good start Seats and benches is what separates us from touching Talking to her would be an empty discussion She admires who is beside her, not the kid she bore Love is what she gives the child; beauty is what she gives the outsider I see her opening up her mouth as to speak She mummers something under her breathe Empty speeches is all I return before I walk away Dogs go astray when they lose their way I am that dog that is out of place, yet my feet is at rapid pace Rudeness and bitterness was never my intention I am open to new faces and avoid all contentions It is my inner being that keeps me from being free Thoughtless words for humanity is all I have Traveling on foot the cycle repeats; unknown to my own conceits.

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Bully

Michael Jenkins Brutal honesty was your first language Sharpening your fist for a knockout defeats your opponent The presence of an enemy is enough to the accuser Helpless in a battle; apologetic in a reunion Peace offering is what they give but you ridicule their effort Bickering with your alliance and plotting to do mischief It is newsworthy for you to learn that I failed Snickering at my disappointments; laughing at my mistakes An open embrace is all I wanted but you constantly provoke me Calling me harsh names, without sarcasm Returning the favor is stepping on your level of disgust! Responsible for the harsh remarks that are given to the victim Letting out steam from all the hurt you caused is a relief Standing against the wall smirking with much conceit Blameless for the things you have done; the outsider the repulsive son Fear lurks in the corner as I walk the floors Flashbacks of the pain you caused me years before Warning my counselors that the teasing has to cease There is no evidence so they dismissed it carelessly Persistent to make amends for a better life, but it is hopeless with you Poisonous pest, uneducated shrew Trained manipulator to cause chaos and shame Detestable acts are in your name The fatal disease that takes over a body Cancerous as they come, you are a bully!

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Success Story

Doug Smithart

Rising up from rock bottom I have come so far Coming out of my struggles I’m succeeding so far Coming from a long way down I still have a way to go Keeping my eyes on the future Adding on to what I know Should my story inspire others? Only if they choose to be moved It is there when they want it Even if they have something to prove I never believed in success stores Until I became one just now Now I tell you I’m successful And I’ll tell you how

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Arian Eclipse

James Lewis

Astronomical phenomenon

Ever so elegant radiate upon

as untainted souls survey up to find

The violet eye of inumbrate skies

Warping the nether,

subjacent stars cry

and tarnish to mere nothing

Where shade is but light

monochrome spectrum

serve and subsist by

illuminating the carnage

frontlines of world war I

Beautiful essence, yourself

I entreat you veer a typhlotic eye

to the abhorrence and antipathy

You must pledge upon tonight

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Fidelity

James Lewis

The dawn-to-dark you've been anticipating

Syndicate sudor spells down your spine

Subject a suit of feather white

Commenced we both entwine

It’s a day of merriment and tears

These tears full far from pain

Today begins the remnant of our lives

The day you take on my name

Idioms not yet constructed

could transmit the joy I feel

and array appreciation

as I expel your diaphanous veil

Eye contact so valiant

as the clergy cycles to you

and you procure our vows of fidelity

Assurance with the words "I do".

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Break Away

James Lewis

As I break away from gravity

I feel my body lift from reality

No longer must I witness these fatalities

I close my eyes, smile, and break away

I feel my body life from reality

I accept this weightlessness with tranquility

I close my eyes, smile, and break away

Never again will I feel the pain of payment

I accept this weightlessness with tranquility

Finally, serenity

Never again will I feel the pain of payment

This is how the world stops turning

Finally, serenity

With not even the wind to brush the bangs from my face

This is how the world stops turning

Tomorrow brings a brand new day

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Succubus

James Lewis

If I promised to kiss you deadly

would you let me near your neck

to dance my tongue on wicked flesh

and cure my inner leck

If I promised to make it painless

Could I burrow in your thoughts

Scratch and claw into your mind

In search of what’s not sought

If I promised to kill you gently

and inhale your peachy scent

Can I lay you down forever under

Stop dreams of slow descent

If I promised to kiss you deadly

and savor those soft sweet lips

Would you sell your soul

and end your life

to feel my leather whip

33

Take Notice

Kristen Powell Delayed promises for a mind to chatter. What's the matter? Pitter patter. Twenty-five days in a cave, In a grave, Alone and away. Sleep for the dawn of a new day. Hip Hip Hooray! Awakened to life.

34

The Morning Hunt

Samantha Tellefson

The rooster is crowing as the bright sun

Rises over the horizon. Morning dew

Covering the ground. The rolls are done

For morning breakfast. Juice is poured too.

The aroma of cinnamon is filling

The house by the cool fall breeze flowing

Through the window. Fresh apple pie chilling

On the stove. Waiting on my man, towing

A big buck home from his morning hunt.

He seems very excited about his trophy kill.

Looking, I tell him it looks like a runt.

Then he says that’s not a funny joke, Jill.

Can’t believe it’s the first night season

I know that it is very pleasing.

35

Amarante Sword

Adam Diehl

Prologue: Sort Of

Look, I know you’ve heard this story a million times before. It’s the oldest story in the book-in

any book. If you think about it, it’s really the first story ever told. It was definitely the first one worth

listening to. You’ve probably heard it a million different ways with a million different endings and are

probably sick of it by now. So get the plastic bucket and mouthwash ready because I’m going to tell it

anyway. You have probably guessed by now that this is a story about a girl.. But it’s not just about any

girl; it’s about THE GIRL. The one that got away. The one who made you rethink everything you knew

about girls and everything you knew about yourself and probably everything you knew about life in

general. The girl, who, with a smile, showed you creation. I’m talking the big- bang here. Before her,

your universe was void and pointless. Now it’s an infinite, speed of light expanding collection of galaxies

and star birthing nebulae that started you dreaming about supernovas and cosmic singularities and how

they could possibly exist in two big green eyes. The girl who set your life on its ultimate journey and

connected you with God Almighty in a way that a rainbow or sunrise over the mountains had never

come close to doing.

I realize I may have gotten a little carried away there. I know how clichéd all this sounds but

that doesn’t make it any less true or powerful. Much of the direction history has taken has been

because of stories about girls. It’s simply human nature even if it’s rarely simple. People will come and

go in your life for all sorts of reasons. The ones you can’t forget are the ones you shouldn’t forget. They

taught you about life. They helped you grow. They left an indelible print on your heart and soul and

nothing and no one can ever take that away.

I realize I may have gotten a little carried away there. I will do that from time to time. I tend

sometimes to veer widely off into areas that might not help you understand a particular back story or

the mood- setting details of a particular scene, but they will help you gain a deeper understanding of the

story as a whole, whether you realize it at first or not. To me all stories are connected in some way, so,

if I start talking about Einsteinium physics or Platonic democracy, don’t stop paying attention. I promise

there is a reason for it all and that no word is wasted. There is a subtle thread throughout the history of

mankind that gets forgotten among the dross of our rat-race lives but springs up in every generation’s

story as the old saying goes, we are doomed to repeat that which we forget. It is not my intention to

remind humanity of lessons it has been taught over and over again only to forget them at the most

inopportune time but I will take advantage of that forgetfulness to tell my story. I’m not going to come

right out and spill my soul to you. At least not with this writing. I want to leave some room for

interpretation, which is the goal of all art I suppose. So it is up to you to decide which parts of the

following story are mine and which ones may be yours. Either way the story is its own demon

possessing my fingers and forcing them to type. I am playing a very minor role in the process. With that

being said, I suppose it’s time to begin the story itself.

36

Prologue: Actual

The Samurai of ancient Japan can tentatively trace their beginnings to the 6th century. Their

heydays however, came around the 13th-16th centuries when feuds between the disparate Japanese

noble families were continually sprouting up and guns had not yet been introduced. These guys were

the bodyguards of the rock stars of their era and would gladly die for their charge. They were

recognizable by their massive and ornate armor-which even included demonic inspired masks to

generate fear amongst their enemies. And although they practiced Zen Buddhism, it was only in

meditation they were at peace and then only on the outside. Usually, they were fighting furious battles

for their own souls as often as they were engaging enemy combatants. In many cases, due to a let’s say,

stringent code of ethics, they would take their own lives after failing in some relatively major way like

locking their master’s keys in the carriage or something. I’m just saying they were a little intense. They

wouldn’t last long in the shallow times we live in, but that’s a thought for another day.

Now what truly distinguished the Samurai in history was not their intensity, but their swords.

I’m sure you have heard of the Samurai sword, better known as the katana. It has been immortalized in

countless movies even being wielded by an anthropomorphic turtle at times. As far as quality and

effectiveness go there really is no equal to the katana. The makers of these swords perfected

techniques that made their blades the sharpest and strongest in the world, which was made the more

impressive due to the poor quality and limited supply of raw materials in ancient Japan.

One such sword smith was a master named, Masamune, not to be confused with his successor

Muramasa who may be better known to the more superficial reader. Masamune was considered the

greatest Japanese sword maker in history and many of his weapons have been memorialized for their

beauty and quality. In the months nearing the end of his career, however, he produced only a single

sword. The sword itself has been lost to history but the story lives on.

37

Chapter 1

Sharp Is What We Hone For

Masamune Okazaki had built a legendary reputation for making the finest blades in the world.

Rulers from all over the country sought him out to arm their militaries, for his swords were considered

the strongest and most elegant of any wielded by man. One of his swords was said to have cut 10,000

invading Mongol necks without receiving so much as a scratch. In tales about them, his swords were

often given supernatural attributes. This was not a surprise for he had developed a way of mixing

certain crystals, called nie, with the metal to give an appearance in the blade of stars in the night sky.

As the sword was swung, the nie would catch the light creating the belief that the last thing a warrior

saw before his eyes when a Masamune sword took his life was not his past but rather a flash of

lightning. But Masamune, despite all of his accolades and reputation, was not satisfied. His work had

left him unfulfilled and he couldn’t understand why. He had helped defend his country countless times

by arming warriors with superior weapons. He had helped save hundreds of lives. He was celebrated

throughout all Edo as the greatest sword smith of all time. But Masamune was not satisfied. He had

begun to think his entire existence had been in vain-that everything he had accomplished was pointless

and fleeting. He had stopped producing swords-starting the process but giving up halfway into it.

What is the point, he’d cry. The most beautiful sword in the world has surely already been

made-by my hand or not. What is the point of trying?

So it went day after day, month after month. A thousand started swords, a thousand pounds of

charcoal wasted. He spent hours sitting by his rock garden contemplating the meaning of his life-sinking

deeper and deeper into depression, finding no answers in meditation. Finally, he became too restless to

focus on meditation and prayer and decided to take a walk into town and get lost in the hustle and

bustle of the market. It was always vibrant and loud and the perfect place to be distracted from ones

inner struggles. With no particular destination in mind he simply meandered through the various fish

and rice booths-not intending on buying anything, just browsing. He absently examined the wares at

each one barely noticing when the seller became upset at him for loitering. Gaining nothing from this

trip, thus far, he had decided to return home. As he started back though, he passed by a small fish

booth and for some reason unknown to him suddenly felt compelled to buy fresh cod for dinner, even

though he typically hated cod. When he arrived and the seller looked up, he noticed something very

peculiar and very, very wonderful-green eyes. Now, it’s not politically incorrect to be surprised at

someone in Japan at this time having green eyes. Japan IS an island, which tends to limit genetic

variations among the population. And America did not have a military base there at the time. (Yes, I

realize that America did not exist then. The previous statement was tongue-in-cheek.) He was

immediately struck-not just by the rarity of what he was seeing, but the pure and stunning beauty of it.

And then she smiled. His heart stopped. His mouth became dry. He could very well be dead and seeing

heaven he thought. Like the sun breaking the horizon, her smile spread across her face and all words

and thoughts of fresh cod escaped him. With the sweetest disposition she asked if she could help him

with anything and he slowly backed away lightly shaking his head. When he was out of sight he ran

home to his rock garden and dug furiously. He knew something important had just happened but not

38

what or why. He knew he would go back to the fish market the next day and he knew that that night he

would get no sleep.

The next day he returned, of course, and found her at the booth again. Her rising sun smile

returned when she had completed her look up from under her sugegasa to meet his eyes and she

welcomed him back. Her smile grew even wider when she asked if he planned on ordering anything

today. A million, million things rattled around his head and reached the tip of his tongue and he said

“fresh cod”. Two words! An infinitesimal percentage of what he had prepared in his head to say! He

stood there fuming inside while she retrieved his order. She brought it, the smile never leaving her

perfectly shaped face and told him the price, which he paid for in exact change. It was to his back she

asked him to please come again. He returned home and cooked the cod but it tasted like rubber in his

mouth thanks to his frustration over his performance at the market. Tomorrow he vowed, would be

different.

Again he went to the fish market to find her and again she was there. He gallantly waited in line

behind a very slow and deliberate old lady who could not read her own writing on her shopping list. He

marveled at the ease and patience with which the girl went about helping the woman. She was so

utterly graceful and kind. His eyes sparkled as he watched, unbeknownst to him but obvious to the old

woman.

“You can judge well the character of a man by how his eyes dance at the sight of the woman he

loves,” she said smiling.

“But, I’m not…,” he tried to argue.

“Ahhh, the eyes give up the heart every time, young man. Every time.” She patted his hand as

she walked away and laughed as she said “Don’t worry, God approves.”

He could only grin shyly and nod. Finally, it was his turn to order. Her perpetual smile once

more widened when he stepped to the booth and she once more asked him what he’d like. He replied,

“fresh cod, please”. She giggled and asked him if tomorrow she should expect four words. A short

silence fell over them both and then laughter. He had not laughed in months and now their laughter

intertwined was a liberating music encircling him and tugging at his soul. Imagine, you could see a man’s

worries and cares floating away on the vibrations of the sound of laughter and you might get a small

taste of how Masamune felt at that moment. When he had composed himself, he said he was sorry for

his silly behavior but that he had not expected such a young woman at the booth and was taken aback.

She told him not to worry and that she was glad he came back. His face went through the entire red

spectrum before he could speak again and he asked her, her name.

“Amarante, which means flower that never fades,” she said, and he thought to himself that that

fit perfectly.

“My name is”-“Masamune!, she interrupted. Everyone knows your name. You are the greatest

sword smith in all Edo.”

39

Embarrassed, he replied “I am merely the instrument through which God speaks. I do not even

know how the sword will look until it is finished.”

“Well, then, God has a beautiful voice.”

“God makes many beautiful creations,” he said smiling. This time it was her turn to blush and

his heart already beating so fast he could hardly hear himself think, leapt at the sight of it. He took her

hand and shook it lightly and told her he must get home to prepare dinner but that he would certainly

need fresh fish tomorrow.

“Bye for now”, she called across the market once she got back her voice.

Someone able to see both of them would’ve thought they were twins as they both had the exact

same smile on their faces. Again he thought to himself, something very important is happening here.

40

Chapter 2

Masamune: The Legendary Picnic Maker

For a few weeks this daily meeting went on, growing in length each time. Their conversation

was easy but never light. Each time they came away with a deeper understanding of each other. They

were content not to rush things, however, enjoying each second they were able to share. And he was

always careful not to interrupt her business and she was careful not to inquire of his. They both knew

that what was developing between them was more important than the regular minutiae of life and that

everything would come in time.

Then, one day he was not there at his regular time. She kept her smile and graceful demeanor

on the outside but was frantic and nervous on the inside. Where could he be? Was he all right? Maybe

he was working! It must take a long time to create something so beautiful. She worked hard to work

hard and keep from worrying and near the end of her day her faith was rewarded.

“I am very sorry I am late. But I didn’t want to disturb your business and I have a surprise for

you,” he said.

He thought he had seen every variation of her smile, every dimple, every size of it. But the one

he was seeing now was brand new and it was breathtaking. It very nearly threw him off the reason he

had waited until now to see her. Almost unconsciously he held up a picnic basket.

“Fresh cod?,” he asked sheepishly.

She said slyly that even though he went to a competitor, fresh cod sounded amazing. Like a

dervish, she closed up shop as quickly as humanly possible and together they walked to a quiet spot he

had picked out the day before. He chose that spot because the pond it was by was always tranquil and

the flowers that surrounded it never fade. Together they laid out everything he had brought. Which,

due to his meticulous nature and pervasive nervousness, was enough for several picnickers? All of it, his

shyness even this long since they started talking, his determined effort to make sure that all of her

admitted preferences were met, and his excitement over the tiniest detail made her cherish him even

more. What was even more impressive was that although, to outsiders it would seem that he was trying

too hard, his genuine thoughtfulness was truly effortless. He loved her so deeply that what she liked

and didn’t like was written on his heart and remembering and producing those things she liked was

completely natural. It was not out of a fear of losing her that he did these things but out of a deep,

abiding and joyous love. For him it was as involuntary as breathing is to you or I and just as vital.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s presence for what seemed an eternity. The joyfulness of the

moment overwhelmed the desire for conversation and the beauty of the place and their love

silhouetted against it were beyond any words. Simply being close was all they needed. Eventually

though, with the setting sun reflecting on the pond and the wind blowing the lotus petals from the trees

41

like an exotic summer snow storm they were forced to take their eyes off each other. The next time her

eyes met his it was from the strong comfort of his arms. Still, no words were spoken.

Anyone passing by would’ve thought they were a statue or that those lotus petals really were

snowflakes and two pure lovers had been frozen there in a perfect state of happiness. They wouldn’t be

that far from the truth in all honesty. For Masamune and Amarante both wished they could stay there

forever, embracing each other.

When the first stars of the night started winking down on them from the inky sky, Amarante

jumped up quickly.

“I must go, she exclaimed. I have been so happy that I forgot my duties to my family. Please

understand, my beloved. I must go.”

“Of course. I apologize for keeping you so long. I too was lost in my own happiness and forgot

there was a world out there calling on us. Please, think nothing of it and I will see you again as soon as

you are able. Bye for now, my flower.”

Before running off she took his hand in hers and squeezed it, her eyes locked on his. Her

beautiful green eyes that could be seen even in the darkness that now surrounded them.

“Yes, bye for now,” she smiled and was gone.

He didn’t remember the walk home. He didn’t remember a single step or how he managed to

navigate his way in the moonless night. He could not even hold a thought in his head. In fact, he had

supposed it must have all been just an amazing and visceral dream for a moment until he realized the

picnic basket was in his hand. His smile was enough apparently to light his way home. His love was

enough to guide his steps. His hope was enough to keep the night at bay. He slept soundly that night

for he dreamt of her and even his subconscious didn’t want to ruin that.

42

Chapter 3

Amarante: The Sword That Never Fades

For a month they were content just eating together and talking-languishing in the journey to

each other’s heart. Then, to his chagrin, came the question he had been dreading-she asked to see his

shop. He answered with a sigh for he knew what condition it was in and that nothing had left the shop

in months. I guess it’s about time I went back in there he thought. He hadn’t given his work more than

a passing thought for the past several weeks. His search for the most beautiful sword had paled

compared to his discovery of this most beautiful woman. But it was his livelihood and it was suffering.

He was very nearly out of warehoused swords and he would have to start making them again sooner

rather than later. Besides, he had never been this inspired before.

Masamune spent the next day trying to clean up the neglected disaster of his shop. He tried to

hide the evidence that had been building up for weeks that testified to his lack of production. There

were half-finished swords lying everywhere making it painfully obvious that he had not produced much

recently. But, the more he tried to clean up and the more he tried to cover up his failings the more he

became convinced he didn’t need to. He knew she wouldn’t care. She was merely interested in his

great talent and in sharing it with him. He knew that the rest of the world needed him to produce

swords since that’s what he was to them. To Amarante though, he was just Masamune, the man she

loved. And that was more than enough for him. He was not at all ashamed to be Masamune, the picnic

maker.

The next day when they arrived at his shop, she was overwhelmed. The swords that had been

started were to her, the most beautiful things she’d ever seen and she told him so. She didn’t even

notice that they were half finished. All Masamune could do was smile. He was rendered speechless by

his embarrassment at his own self-consciousness and his complete love for this woman. He was not

surprised at her reaction, really, but she never ceased to amaze him with the depth of her selflessness

and genuineness.

“Please, tell me how you make such amazing pieces.”

“I can show you if you want. It is a long process though.”

“There is no place I’d rather be-no matter how long it takes.” Both of them could only smile at

each other for a moment.

“Me too,” he had to admit. “Me too.”

The following morning she arrived right on time, as he expected she would. Her excitement for

this project was uncontainable-her body vibrated with it. She would not waste one second being away

from Masamune and the sword until it was finished.

43

“Come, let us have tea before we begin,” he said welcoming her. “We will need all the energy

we can get. It’s going to be a very long day. I have many of the materials we’re going to need but a few

special ones we’ll have to take a little trip to find. Are you up for that?”

“Absolutely.”

Masamune marveled at his love for this woman. He could not explain it. Here in the cold

morning with the sun filtering through his shoji and alighting upon her face the delicate shadow of the

flower painted on it, his heart gave itself up to her. At that moment he knew that the decision he had

made over what he would give her this day was the right one. He finally had his universe. His one true

star. But for now, it was time to work.

“Okay then, I guess it’s time to get started, he said as he helped her up. The first thing we need

to do is fill the tatara with charcoal, the tatara is a clay mold where the steel will be produced. While

the blades may have different compositions and artwork the basic shape is always the same.

Consequently, the tatara is reused many times and all that must be done to prepare it for each new

sword is a good cleaning. My students cleaned it last night which frees us to add and fire the charcoal.

I always have a store of charcoal out back so if you will bring this cart, I will shovel the charcoal into it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to shovel it in,” she said smiling. “I’m pretty strong.”

“Hmm, you can shovel the first ten loads and I will shovel the last one, how does that sound?

“I think I can handle that,” she replied and stuck her tongue out at him and they both laughed.

“Well, if I get tired of shoveling we can switch, but it should only take a few shovels full.”

“Alright. Take the fun out of it.”

Having performed this task thousands of time, he was right of course and after a few scoops the

cart was full and together they pulled it to the tatara. The tatara can be opened and closed depending

on the need so she was able to push the cart inside of it to dump it out without any assistance. She was

very proud of this. He knew she was the youngest in her family and not allowed to do much on her own

so he was glad to give her these new experiences. He was also glad that she enjoyed them as much as

he did.

“Now we must wait for the fire to reach the correct temperature and after that my students will

add the satetsu to the mold. Satetsu is the iron sand that will eventually produce the steel we will need

and of course I have much of it on hand. They will have to do this for the rest of the day because they

can only add a little at a time so not to overpower the heated tatara. But while they are doing that, you

and I will take our little trip. You have ridden a horse before?”

“No, never! I am sorry, Masamune.”

“Ahh, it’s ok. These are the best mannered horses in the region. You will have no trouble at all.

I promise.”

44

“Well, if you promise.” She smiled and as usual it made his heart almost beat through his chest.

“The horses are already loaded and ready to go. Would you like some more tea before we

leave and I can tell you a little of the plan for the day?”

“Of course. You make amazing tea.” He blushed and it affected her just as deeply as her smile

affected him. “Did you see the news this morning? We have an emperor now, Go-Daigo. No more

feuding nobles! What do you think of that?”

“I think the nobles will always feud as long as there is money in it. And that an emperor who

gains his position through force is a dangerous thing. But I don’t see it affecting you and me, unless he

wants more Amarante swords for his military.”

“Well, I will fall off as many horses as it takes to keep you in business!”

“Ha, If you fall off then I will walk your horse while you ride. Deal?”

“You will regret those words! But Deal. So tell me what we’ll be doing today.”

“Well, it will take us a couple hours of riding to get to the foothills where the caves are. Inside

the caves are the crystals I put in my blades. When we get there we can set up our picnic because I’m

pretty sure we’ll be famished by then. After we eat we’ll dig out enough crystals for the blade and then

that’s all we’ll have to do at the mountains. We should return home late this afternoon. Probably just

before nightfall. Does that work with you?”

“Indeed. My mother actually agreed to let me stay out a little later than usual after I told her

what we’d be doing. So we won’t have to rush.”

“That is good because although my horses may be very tame, they are not exactly fast. And that

being said, we should probably get going.”

He helped her onto her horse and as he expected, she looked like a natural. Her grace and

natural ability shine through in everything she does.

“You look like you’ve been riding all your life. I think the horse enjoys having such a light load

for a change.”

“Ohhh, now. I have watched my family ride horses my entire life. Maybe it’s just one of those

things that you’re born into.”

“It certainly looks like it. So you don’t think you’ll need me to walk your horse,?” he laughed

and showing her just how tame the horse is smacked it on the backside and it took off violently into a

slow walk.

“I am already excited, Masamune! I have never been into the mountains. Not even the

foothills,” she called back over her shoulder.

45

“I‘m excited too!.” I love showing you new things.

_______________

While, Masamune and Amarante were excitedly getting ready for their trip, the new emperor,

Go-Daigo, was holding a meeting with the noble families of the region. They took notice of the changes

he had made in the holy palace. What was once an understated and humble place of God has been

turned into a gaudy and ostentatious mockery of him. They did not expect the meeting to go well. He

had gained his control over the empire by slaughtering thousands of their people. Tales of his

bloodthirsty sadism had done much to provoke the feudal governors into surrendering a war they likely

would’ve won. But they were not called nobles without reason and saw no honor in allowing this man

to desecrate their country any longer. They would find a way to stop him, but without any more

bloodshed, lest it be his own. They just prayed there would be none of their bloodshed this day.

“I have gathered you all here to assure you that my reign will be peaceful, so long as I am

obeyed unquestioningly. What I mean is that I will not use force against you without reason, but be

warned that I am fully capable of utilizing force to devastating effect as you have already seen. I will

allow you to continue mostly unaltered in your respective businesses and territories. However, at this

time I will make one decree. I am without a wife at present. My last one was lost during the fight for my

current position. A fight I remind you that was unnecessary given my God-given claim to the throne.

Regardless, she was lost before I was able to sire an heir. Since, my wife was taken from me by your

people I will expect a replacement from each of your territories. I hate to be so clichéd but I will need

the most beautiful girls you can find. Engaged is fine. Married is not. I will give you each a month to

find suitable prospects. Do we all have an understanding?”

All the nobles nod their head in angry assent and are immediately rushed from the palace. This

new emperor is going to create more bloodshed staying in power than he did in gaining it. God be with

anyone who disobeys him.

_______________

Masamune and Amarante reached the foothills of the mountains after a couple of hours of

riding and Masamune led her to the cave where the crystals are found, that once added to the sword

would be called nie. There was a reflecting pool at the mouth of the cave that sent the sun into the cave

and when her eyes adjusted to the difference in light, Amarante was astounded by the beauty of it. The

green crystals, lit up against the dark background of the cave wall gave her the feeling of not just seeing

the stars but living amongst them. Blanketed by them. They fell upon her like an emerald shower

warming her heart. She almost lost her balance as the feeling of weightlessness and floating in the

heavens overtook her. It was beautiful beyond words. It was a vision of Heaven and as Masamune

watched her and realized just how perfectly the colors matched her eyes he had the exact same

thought. When she looked up to see him watching her she blushed and ran over to him and jumped

into his arms.

46

“It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Masamune. I can never thank you enough for

showing this to me. I can barely breathe right now. I do not even know what to say.”

“Then let us just stand here in silence. You surrounded by the most beautiful thing you’ve ever

seen and me holding the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She looked up at his sparkling eyes and his kind smile and for the first time ever saying it and

knowing exactly what it means she told him, “I love you. I love you absolutely. Until these crystal stars

stop shining, I love you. You are the greatest man I have ever known. You are the river that flows

through my heart. I love you now, tomorrow and forever.”

“Amarante, it has been my great honor to spend these months with you. You have given me

new life and my life its purpose. With you by my side all things are possible and every beat of my heart

is joyous. There is no world without you. I pray that I can spend the rest of this life and after that

eternity with you in my arms. My love, my great and perfect love, my blood, my breath, my soul’s great

joy, will you stand with me for the rest of our lives?” After saying this he pulled from the picnic basket a

single lotus flower. Pure white and the largest lotus either had ever seen. He held it up to her with both

hands. His smile took over his entire face. His eyes were a meteor shower with the cave walls reflecting

in them. And the hands that had forged thousands of perfect swords. Had smoothed the most beautiful

lines into them. Those hands were trembling now. Not with nervousness but unadulterated

excitement. His entire body was vibrating. He felt connected to the entire universe at that moment.

Every cosmic storm. Every new star’s birth. All of it was one with his body. And a perfect and expectant

silence fell over them both.

She reached into the lotus flower-her hand trembling in tune with his. She now knew what was

waiting for her but still she could not contain her excitement. Her heart almost burst when she felt the

cold metal ring. When she pulled it out she could not believe how breathtakingly beautiful it was. It

was forged in the same steel as his swords but inlayed with the purest gold. A green flower, made from

the crystals she was now surrounded by ran along the entire circumference of the ring. The diamond

was itself, carved into a lotus flower. It looked exactly like the flower that had held the ring. She could

not breathe. She could not even answer his question. But they both knew the answer anyway.

As he took the ring to place it on her finger the wind outside the cave gusted suddenly and blew

white lotus petals off the flowers that guarded the pond into the cave. The wind and the cave’s shape

caused the petals to swirl about them as though a thousand pure white doves suddenly decided they

could hide no longer and burst from the walls trying excitedly to find a way out. Once the ring was on

her finger and it fit perfectly just as she knew it would, they kissed for the first time. It was a kiss that

could tear open the earth. Could bring down mountains and start the oceans boiling. Sadly, it would

prove to be their last.

After they finally shook themselves from the dream of their embrace they had to get to work.

The progress of which was severely hampered by their euphoria as they were unable to focus long on

the task at hand. Eventually, however they managed to get all the crystal they would need for the

sword and it was time to head back.

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“By morning the tatara should be melted down to the kera, he explained. The kera is the actual

steel produced from the satetsu and once I break it apart I can remove from it the tamahagane which is

what we’ll forge the blade from. The crystals will be added during the folding process and worked into

the length of the sword. This part of the process should last the rest of the week. By the beginning of

next week however, we should have a fully formed and treated sword blade,” he added with a smile.

“I have a surprise for you when we start in the morning,” she replied, barely able to contain

herself. She was very excited about this secret and it was nearly impossible to keep it inside. “I think

you will be very pleased with it.”

“I have no doubt.” They talked about everything on the ride back. She told him of her dreams

for their house and he told her of the wedding party he would throw for her. They both talked about

the sword and the beauty of it already forming in their mind. They left that morning as two people in

love. They returned that evening as one.

As usual she was right on time the following morning. Both of them had ear-to-ear grins when

he opened the door to her. They couldn’t speak while they had their tea-only sit and smile. A shared

joy that didn’t need to be spoken hovering over them.

When they finished their tea they walked hand-in-hand to his shop. It was much hotter than

she expected. She had thought the fire would have died down but she could definitely relate.

Pointing to a molten grey block he said, “This is the kera. I know it doesn’t look like much right

now but in a bit I’ll have it broken apart and reveal the tamahagane, or jewel steel that will be folded

into the sword’s blade. Each time we fold it, it will get longer and purer. We’ll fold it and hammer it

around sixteen times. After the eighth fold the blade will be the length we want and then we’ll add the

nie which we retrieved from the cave yesterday.” At the mention of the cave both of them blushed

deeply. It would be their most cherished memory.

“Well, since I don’t know what point of the process we can etch designs into the blade I want to

show you something now” Amarante held out a tin on which was etched the most beautiful flower.

“This is the surprise. I was hoping I could etch our flower into the blade.”

“Of course! It’s absolutely beautiful, Amarante! It will fit perfectly on the blade.”

“Goooood! I’m so glad. I was afraid you’d think it was silly or ugly. I’m so happy you like it the

idea.”

“I love it. I love you. This will be my greatest sword. Our first of many.”

She beamed and clapped her hands smartly. “So, what do we do now.”

“Now the real work begins. Now, we start making the blade! I will hold the kera and you tap it

lightly with the hammer where I show you, okay?”

“Alright, but don’t let me mess anything up. I would hate to ruin our sword.”

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“Ha! This sword wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you, Amarante. It cannot possibly be ruined.”

He held the kera on the anvil with the tongs and directed her where to tap it. She followed his

directions and laughed when it broke apart revealing grey streaked metal. Even at this early stage she

thought it looked incredible. She was so utterly excited about seeing the final result. When Masamune

told her it would be the most beautiful sword he’d ever created she couldn’t help but believe it.

He placed the raw metal on the tatara and let it heat until it was malleable enough to fold. Once

it was the proper temperature he took her hand to guide her through the folding process. After they

folded it he hammered it out, slowly elongating it.

“Once we’ve folded it a few times we’ll then quench it in water and remove any slag. Then we’ll

heat it again and forge it into a single plate of metal that will make up the core of the blade. This core is

called the shingane, or core steel. We’ll then heat, fold and hammer the lower carbon metal produced

from the kera until it’s the same length as the core steel. Once we’ve done that we’ll add it to the core

steel and forge them together, repeating the heating, folding and hammering process. Altogether, this

will take several hours,” he explained.

“It sounds like a lot of work. I can’t believe you’ve done this thousands of times. I would have

given up!”

“I don’t believe that at all, he replied smiling. You are one of the most determined people I’ve

ever known.”

“Well, maybe my arms would’ve fallen off first!” They both laughed hard at that. He had

definitely never enjoyed the process this much before. They returned to folding the shingane and after

several hours finally finished the first series of folds.

“The next step will be much more time consuming. We should eat now and then we can begin

bright and early in the morning. We should be halfway finished with the blade by the end of the day

tomorrow and then completely finished the following day.”

“Dinner sounds wonderful. So, tomorrow I can etch the flower onto the blade?”

“Not until the next day I’m afraid and then I will have a surprise for you after that.”

“I can’t wait! I’m so excited!”

Their love has insulated them from knowledge of the troubles of the outside world thus far.

Aiding in this ignorant bliss, the emperor’s demands for the daughters of the conquered regions were

for a time ignored by the local governments. But enough noblemen’s sons losing their heads have lit a

fire under the ruling classes and they have begun the search for acceptable young women with a

49

hitherto unseen gusto. They have sent out men on horseback to scour the countryside-armored men,

armored samurai, to help ease the cooperation of the target population. It is a mission the samurai find

distasteful and ignoble but their dedication to their lieges overrides their personal moral code.

Masamune and Amarante have heard nothing of these developments- a lack that will cost them dearly

very soon.

50

Chapter 4

The S-word Hits the Fan

The day has come finally. Although, it was a week of extremely hot and dirty conditions for the

most part, it was a week that didn’t last nearly long enough for the two of them. The sword would be

completely finished next week by another worker and so today is their last opportunity to share in its

creation. She arrived bearing gifts and with those gifts expectations forged into her very core as though

it were her heart laid bare on the anvil and her great love, Masamune, purifying and strengthening it

with each fold. These past few months and this week most of all they have both been forged into one-

one heart, one soul, one accord. With the raging fires of a country in dangerous upheaval encroaching

ever nearer upon them this strength will be greatly tested. Today, however will be theirs and theirs

alone.

Masumane was a little longer in answering the door than usual. He was up very late the night

before working on her surprise and was feeling exhausted. Any energy he was missing though, came

back in a flourish when he opened the door to her radiance. She could see he was tired and knew he

must’ve been up late working. She also knew he would never say anything about it. So, when she held

up her basket and told him that today she made tea and breakfast it was the perfect answer to all their

silent questions. He squeezed her hand tightly. It amazed him how she always knew what he needed.

There was an air of bittersweet excitement hanging between them because they knew that their

part of the sword would be done today. But they also knew that there would be many swords to come.

Perhaps, they would never top this one but it wouldn’t matter as long as they were sharing in it

together. They took their time eating, seeing no reason to rush this perfect morning.

“You said I make amazing tea, this is the greatest I have ever had, Amarante. I couldn’t imagine

a better start to this day. I do think it’s about to get even better though. I finished your surprise.

Would you like to see it now?”

“Yes! Of Course! I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

He got up in a flash and came back holding a large wrapped object. She had no idea what to

expect. He hadn’t given her any clues. Sitting down, he laid it on the floor between them. He held out

his hands motioning to her to open it. Slowly she did so and he watched her eyes growing wider as she

revealed it. In silence they both sat there looking at it. Her mouth was open slightly and she exhaled

hard as she looked up at him. It was the hilt for the sword and it was breathtaking. The wrapping was

stark white. Starting at the pommel end and flowing beautifully to the guard was an emerald green

flower. The leaves on the stem spelled out her name making the sword’s name official. As tears started

sliding down her cheeks, Masamune smiled. Not at her tears, and she knew that. He smiled because he

was so grateful for her and her inspiration. He knew that without her he could never have created

something that would bring that kind of reaction. She had brought meaning and passion back to his life.

It would be a debt he could never repay.

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Finally, after they could speak again he said, “so should we finish the blade so we can put the

pieces together?”

Still crying softly she answered, “Yes. I cannot wait to see the finished sword.”

“We will finally finish the folding process this morning. After lunch you will have all afternoon to

etch your flower onto the blade and then we’ll attach it to the hilt. Then we’ll send it to the polisher and

in a few days we will have the completed Amarante Sword.”

“I just hope my flower can do it justice. I still cannot believe how beautiful the hilt is,

Masamune.”

“You will do it justice. I know your etching will be the greatest feature of the sword. This sword

will be remembered forever because of it.”

She smiled broadly and turned towards the tatara, calling behind her, “let’s get started!

What’re we waiting for!” He jogged after her sliding his hand into hers.

“I was just waiting for you to stop smiling but I guess if I do that we’ll never get going,” he said

while sticking out his tongue at her.

Once they stopped laughing Amarante picked up the blade and placed it on the tatara waiting

for it to heat up enough to start folding. While they waited, Masamune explained, “we’re basically done

with the folding process. I will fold and hammer it eight more times and it then we’ll add the crystals

and I will fold it eight more times again to embed the nie into the blade. Once it cools it’s all you. I

won’t have anything more to do on it. You will be the last person to manipulate the blade. How does

that sound?”

“Ummm, it sounds absolutely perfect! I cannot wait to see the crystals in it either!”

He began the folds and hammered the blade out after each time. She watched him and

admired the grace and ease with which he moved. The blade seemed to grow out of his thought. He

had the process mastered so completely that she would bet he could do it blindfolded. It was incredible

to watch him work. She still had to shake herself awake often to remind herself this wasn’t a dream-

that this man who she loved with every part of her being kept showing her daily what it meant to love

someone unconditionally. She knew he believed she was wonderfully talented but next to him she felt

like a moon around its host planet. There only to complement his great talent.

He could see her watching him after each hammer stroke. The hammer playing hide and seek

with her amazing face. Her smile had not left her face. It made him smile inside to see it. He loved this

woman in a way he thought would be impossible-in a way he was sure was impossible for every other

person. It was rooted in his very core, branching out through his entire body and sprouting in his heart.

She was so gifted and he knew she didn’t believe that. Someday he would help her understand how

truly skilled and talented she is.

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She brought the crystals and he showed her how to distribute them along the sword. She

jumped excitedly when she saw them meld with the sword and then he hammered them into the steel.

By now the metal was very thin and every fold embedded the nie deeper into the blade without

diminishing their sparkle. He stopped and looked up at her.

“This will be the last hammer stroke. The blade will be completely forged after this. Then it will

be your turn to work and my turn to marvel at your skill,” he said with a large and relieved smile on his

face. These past weeks have been unforgettable but they’ve both been dying to see the finished

product.

She sighed. “I will not let you down!” With that he hammered the last fold down, closed his eyes

and said a short but very thankful prayer. He was thankful that the sword was all but finished and

thankful beyond words for Amaranth’s presence throughout the process. Making swords had been his

whole life before meeting her and now he had a new purpose. Making her happy would produce far

more beautiful works than any forge.

They left to have lunch by the pond of their original picnic and give the blade time to cool and

harden so that she may etch it when they returned. Both exhausted, they lay on the blanket and

watched the clouds move overhead. They played games seeing who could find the most unusual

picture in the cloud formations. She won, of course.

In the distance, they could see smoke rising from a nearby village. It was the only mar on an

otherwise perfect sky. Had they known what it truly meant they would’ve been horrified but for now

they were only worried about getting back to finish the sword.

She found all the tools she would need to carve the flower into the blade already setting out

when they returned. The blade itself was already placed in the rack that would hold it steady as she cut

into it with a small wooden stool sitting beside it. Seeing all this and realizing that she now had

complete control over the future of this sword suddenly made her very nervous. Masamune, sensing

this put his hand over hers.

“It is your turn to put your mark on this sword, Amarante. I know it will look beautiful. You

have all the time you need so don’t worry.”

She sighed at this and felt a massive amount of relief. If this expert and legendary sword maker

had faith in her, then she had faith as well. She was now excited to get started. Sitting on the stool she

gracefully gathered the materials to her and started to work.

Masamune, sat and watched her, getting up only to get her a glass of tea occasionally. He

admired how diligently and deliberately she worked. But also with a practiced fluidity. It looked as

though the lines being drawn into the sword flowed through her and were carved into the blade as easy

as thought. The sword, already beautiful was being turned into something transcendent. A blade that

could cut through the very fabric of reality and create wonders that had never been seen before. Her

carving was not only creating a perfect lotus but the metal tool digging into the steel of the blade was

53

creating a music that floated in the air above them. They were lost in it and transported to a vision of a

distant past where God himself was forging this sword in the heart of a mountain and then placing it

among the stars to watch over them both. No longer was this merely two people in love creating a

magnificent weapon, it was now a deeply spiritual event pulling them together and leaving no room for

doubt of the divine inspiration that brought them here.

Then as suddenly as it began, the music stopped and the sword was done. They stood back

staring at it, neither able to say a word. It was breathtaking. It was perfect. Finally, Masamune slowly

walked over to it and as he placed his hand around the hilt felt a vibration explode through him. He

removed it from its rack and presented it to Amarante.

“This is the most beautiful sword I have ever created, Amarante. But without you it would be

only a distant thought. You were the inspiration and motivation that made it possible. And now with

your etching it has been made perfect. I cannot express how much I love you. But if you feel the same

way about this sword as I do then you can see in it the full extent of my love.”

“I do, Masamune. I have never seen anything so beautiful. The crystals along the cave walls

seem a faded memory compared to this. It looks like something created in Heaven that only angels

should be allowed to hold. I too have no way of telling you how much I love you but the love I carved

into this blade will hopefully show it.”

They could say no more. The past two weeks, though incredible and exhilarating, had left them

completely and utterly spent. It was now time to rest.

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Chapter 5

All Good Things

The Amarante sword is now with the polisher who will be the last person to work on it.

Everything they have put into it will be heightened and illuminated to a mirror brilliance. Not only will

they be able to see their talent and love in the craftsmanship they’ll be able to see each other standing

together in its reflection. Masamune will come to believe that that image is actually burned into the

blade. Or maybe it’s only his memory that the image burns in.

They are having tea as they usually do during their few moments of rest and as usual are

blissfully unaware of anything but the tiny distance of open air between them. It is in these quiet

sittings they communicate their love for each other at its deepest level. Without saying a word they are

each strengthened and perfected in the silence. This will be the last moment of peace they will ever

know together.

Crashing through the front door and utterly out of breath, one of Masamune’s students brings

devastating news. It is an instance made even more terrible because of the student’s inability to sputter

the words out more than one at a time. They are able to gather between breaths that armed men sent

by the Emperor himself are searching the countryside for Amarante specifically. The villagers have done

their best to delay and obfuscate the search but when the Emperor resorts to his only real solution to

any problem, by hurting people until they give him what he wants, they eventually give in and direct the

soldiers to Masamune’s shop.

After hearing this heartbreaking news, Masamune does something neither of the other two

expect. He sits down and closes his eyes. Amarante is at first, understandably upset and his student is

frantic.

“What are we going to do,” the student yells.

“Be quiet. Masamune is thinking. How many men are coming,” asks Amarante.

“At least twenty. Go-Daigo wanted no room for error.

In answer to this, Masamune opens his eyes. “Prepare some provisions for three days. Only

enough for one person. Amarante and I will prepare a horse.”

“You have to come with me, Masumane,” she begs.

“I must give you time to get away. If we both go right away someone will know where we went.

The road we took to the cave will keep you away from the villages. Make camp there and expect me

late on the third day. I am very sorry but this is the only way I can assure your safety. I promise I will

come for you but you must make all haste now. The horse knows the way and will be able to take you

there quickly. Do not be afraid.”

“I cannot help being afraid without you. Please, come as soon as you can.”

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“I will. Once I have thrown them off the track and satisfied their search of this area I will fly to

you.” With that, the horse that was so slow and docile the first time she sat upon it took off with such

speed that it seemed all hell was on its heels. Which isn’t too far from the truth.

What Masamune didn’t know was that his student was being paid by the soldiers to separate

the two of them without a fight. The emperor wanted both Amarante and Masamune unharmed. The

reason for the former is obvious. The reason for the latter however, was that he believed Masamune

would one day get over his loss and work for the defense of his country by continuing to produce

weapons. In this, he would be terribly, terribly wrong.

The soldiers came busting in demanding the whereabouts of Amarante. They came to

understand they had overpaid the student though, for his lack of acting skills gave them away. His

protests were just too weak and Masamune realized suddenly what a terrible mistake he had made. He

rushed out the back way and jumped on his horse to go after her. Once the soldiers had dispatched the

student they after him. They were in no hurry for they knew the way had been blocked and that by now

Amarante was already in custody. Their cause was not made any more urgent with the knowledge that

Masamune was unarmed.

He flew. The footfalls of his horse echoed throughout the entire forest that surrounded him and

the thundering sound of it gave the men holding Amarante pause. At first they feared, Raijin, the

thunder god himself, was coming for them but when he burst from the forest he was just a man. An

unarmed man at that. They began to laugh. But this was only to bolster their courage, much like you or

I whistling when walking by a grave yard, because the look on his face truly terrified them. They were

near the point of handing the girl over to him when the rest of their unit arrived and took hold of him.

At that moment, Masamune locked eyes with Amarante and gave an imperceptible nod.

Imperceptible to all but her at least. The soldiers were confused when they saw a smile creep across her

face and when one asked her she was smiling about he was completely ignored. She knew however,

what that nod meant. It meant that he would not risk her safety by fighting these men right now. It

meant that he loved her more than his own life. It meant that he would come for her and that no hell or

heaven was going to stop him. And with that knowledge she couldn’t help but smile.

Masamune relaxed and the soldiers let go of him. He watched in silence as they rode off with

her. He stood in silence when the men told him that the emperor greatly appreciated his sacrifice and

that he would be rewarded for it in the future. There was only one reward. Only one outcome. He

would tear down all of Japan to get her back. They both knew it.