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Opus53

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Table of Contents

Opening Page.............Pg. 1

Table of Contents.............Pg. 2

Table of Contents.............Pg. 3

Brian Sykes and Haley Simone.............Pg. 4

Regina Clark and Ian Rigg..............Pg. 5

Jamie Hasty...............Pg. 6

Rashena J. Walker...............Pg. 7Alyssa Dunn..............Pg. 8

Brennan Weaver and Lindsey Surin..............Pg. 9

Jeanne Sullivan...........Pg. 10

Jeanne Sullivan Continued...........Pg. 11

Frankie and Edmund Grant...........Pg. 12

Jamie Hasty...........Pg. 13

Lauren Budziak..........Pg. 14Ken Zochowski and Brian Sykes..........Pg. 15

Rashena J. Walker..........Pg. 16

Eva Kowalczyk and Megan Panella..........Pg. 17

Brittany Ciboski..........Pg. 18

Jeanne Sullivan..........Pg. 19

Claire Gazdziak and Tom Rohlf..........Pg. 20

Arriel Lockett and Matt Ferguson.........Pg. 21Brittany Ciboski.........Pg. 22

Briand Sykes.........Pg. 23

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Haley Simone.........Pg. 24

Ian Rigg and Sara Writer.........Pg. 25

Jeanne Sullivan........Pg. 26

Muhammad Zeekyra and Alyssa Dunn........Pg. 27

Amanda Novak........Pg. 28-35

Megan Penella........Pg. 36

Jason Gatuz and Matt Krakowski........Pg. 37Rosie Red Charles........Pg. 38-39

Molly Grupka........Pg. 40-41

Danyelle Meyer........Pg. 42-44

Tom Rohlf and Arriel Lockett........Pg. 45

Alyssa Dunn and Haley Simone........Pg. 46

Alyssa Dunn........Pg. 47

Tommy Horton........Pg. 48-49Haley Simone........Pg. 50

Dan Piscotti and Lindsey Surin........Pg. 51

Marie Hackert.........Pg. 52

Elizabeth Bennet and Brennan Weaver........Pg. 53

Erica Hernandez........Pg. 54

Jeanne Sullivan........Pg. 55

Contributions........Pg. 56

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Brian Sykes-Poisonous World

Haley Simone-Red Fog

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Regina Clark-Moonlight and Shadow

Ian Rigg-The Doctor is In

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LaSalle Street StationJamie Hasty

Track eight,track sevenAll the trains are gone,and Im alone, sitting in a station.The echo of near-human,

mechanized voices,flying through the emptiness andpervading my senses,emphasizes my loneliness anddefiles my consciousness.In all this city,my need is solitary,unshared by millions.The roar of machinesis nothing but white noise hereand her perfect,echoing voice is inescapable.The son is sinking,

and Im waiting for my lifeguard,come to save my carelessnessfrom drowning in a sea of life,one that grows fromseperateness to unity,consuming entire entities like me.It is the way it is,

and every person is simultaneouslya friend and foe;as they pass I chance aglance at their shadows cast,growing longer anddisappearing in the descending darkness.

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RecessionRashena J. Walker

Suffering, crying, lost, no affection.Constantly searching for jobs,but all you receive is rejection.Lost of cars, lives, homes, & kids.Every thing you once owned are now up for bid.People are killing, stealing, and looking for waysto survive.No motivation, no ambition, nothing to give them a drive.Everyone is searching for the easy way out.People are loosing faith and gaining more doubt.Starving children, more homeless,lost of dignity and respect.Fathers are leaving mothers, mothers leavingchildren, just a lot of neglect.People are going crazy and losing their minds.Suicides and murders of people you thought were just fine.Bankruptcy, bills, up to the skies.The Government is steady telling and living in lies.

People being dropped from all government funds.Houses are getting left for fore closure, & to burn.Having no job leads to no medical insurance, leaving onefree clinic packed.Everything that people thought they had, they now lack.Depression, pain, hurt, and fearsLonely cries, no remorse, leave the world in tears.

Bad management, wrong priorities, plans gone all wrong.This miserable recession has lasted for way, way, to long.

s

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Crazy WorldAlyssa Dunn

Im crazy

That I know, and think you know.

Yet, in reality no one knows.

Sometimes not even us.

Like covert operations.

Awaken with laughter

Our very own sitcom,

Which is most always a high time.

But, on occasion

It can all be very hermetic.

Many thoughts,

A awless circuit.

Conversing in complete darkness,

Voiceless.

Twilight seems to be my favorite timeThe afterglow of the aurora,

Brings me delirium.

But, since

things are the way they are

There is a spectrum of contingencies.

Not one I like

But one that needs to be.An animus

Predicament

If only we lived

in a defectless world.

With out such delicate situations.

My thoughts

Could be turnedInto a blissful discussion.

Day in and day out.

The unknown makes me more

Inquisitive.

But, only the riddler can see the future

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Brennan Weaver-Perplexed Minds

Lindsey Surin-Blue Buttery

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Tey worry about me. Tey listen to my story and they sympa-

thize. Tey know I cant stop. My wife never makes me feel badabout the accidents. She understands I cant stop.

Do I look like someone who kills people? Im not surewhat a person like that looks like. We see pictures of peoplebeing led out of courtrooms and we say they look like killers.We say we can tell just by looking at them. But before we knewwhat they did, they were just people like us.Tey had families

and jobs. Tey walked right past you everyday. I look like aregular guy.

Tey call me Styx. Maybe its because I have long,skinny legs. Maybe its because I used to play hockey in highschool. Maybe its because of that river they talk about inbooks. For the last 30 years I have driven the train. I take thou-sands of people to and from work, school and home everyday.Sometimes those gates go down and people think they can getaround. Tey think they can beat the odds, and they can out-run the train. But what they dont understand is I cant stop.

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Franky Cruz-Untitled

Edmund Grant-Cellar Escape

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Indulgences & AbsolutionJamie Hasty

In everyday mundanity,

the key to sanity

isnt belief or upkeep,

but release,

the relief of rejection

and escape from perfection.

Its the choice in your sin,

and the taste of its poison.

Cutting nerves (no knives needed!)

and reveling in life, unimpeded

by technicalities like time and space

allow yourself to drown

in her overwhelming embrace.

The warmest blanket,

the softest sleep,

I give you now my soul to keep.

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Lauren Budziak-Untitled

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Ken Zochowski-Aftermath of The Summer

Brian Sykes-Morning

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InnocentRashena J. Walker

Innocent souls lost in the wind.

If only they could be giving one more chance.

Getting dressed, all ready for school.

Smiling all the way to the bus not knowing what

they are running into.Singing, reading, playing, and having fun.

Living their innocent lives, no wrong, found in none.

Our future, our creations, and the ones we suppose to love.

Were turned into angels now ying with doves.

We wonder why they get taken so young.

In such a violent way that left our hearts numb.

By some one who was mentally ill.Who own mother and family couldnt even tell.

Not knowing what he was capable of.

Murdering those children and sending them up above.

Taking innocent children, and people lives.

Children, mothers, and some people wives.

No locks, no alarms, to keep this man out.

All you can imagine is the screams, and children shout.No one there to spare these children one more chance.

To young to ght back, left with blood all over their hands.

Lost, confused, and unaware.

Leaving this horrible scene that no one could bare.

Coward took all of these people lives, hopes, and dreams.

Than killed himself so he wouldnt have to face what

was up the stream.Death penalty, tortured, and hated by the world.

All because he took the lives of people innocent

boys, and girls.

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Eva Kowalczyk-Hand in Nature

Megan Panella-Untitled

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The Remedy is Worse

Than the DiseaseBrittany Ciboski

I turn to face my enemy,

And he regards me with cruel amusement,

Holding me captive in my own reflection.

Are you so surprised, my queen?My hands turn to stone.

They are cold against the rotting flesh

That falls from my face.

A whisper escapes my cracked lips:

I thought you loved me.

I suddenly long to

Scratch and blacken out the filthy outsideWith the ink that wells up in the tiny crevices,

Orifices weeping out slick words,

The slippery loathing of self

That writhes and breeds in the filthy inside,

And eats away at my entrails like a sickness.

I know no cure; I do not seek one.

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We sit outside on the patio. We have watched the sun

bashfully hide its smile from the Earth for another day.

We enjoy a cocktail, and sit together staring into the spar-

kling sky above us. All is quiet except for a few crickets

performing their final serenades. My love turns to me and

says, I dont want to say, bless you anymore.

Do you mean to me, or to anyone?

Anybody. It really is silly. Why are we all still saying

it to each other? To strangers, to anybody. Frankly, its

ridiculous.

I guess its just a nice thing we do for each other. A habit,

I guess. Why do you think its ridiculous?Well, we have all witnessed a sneeze, and the devil has

never entered someone as they were sneezing. Its never

happened. If I dont say, bless you, no one is suddenly

overtaken by an evil spirit.

I suppose youre right. Ill tell what, you dont have to

say it to me anymore. I know you dont want anything bad

to happen to me, so it will just be understood. And I willstop saying it to you as well. But if an evil spirit does get

in, you cant blame me.

Its a deal. I will not hold you responsible for any evil

sneezes.

Minutes pass as we sip the last of our drinks, and enjoy the

last moments of the weekend together. We hold hands for

a moment, as we watch the lightning bugs shine on to theirwarm homes. AH-CHOO!

Bless You.

Thank you.

The SneezeJeanne Sullivan

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Tom Rohlf-Fallen

Claire Gazdziak-Blow Away

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Matt Ferguson-Iguana

Arriel Locket-Museum Eagle

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Swastika eyes

And your Chelsea grin,

Whip out your loathing so

That you may ram it gradually deeper, deeper

Down my throat.

The oxygen flees my body

And I choke.

Your award-winning smile grows wider

As your manly elixir

Slithers out and Nazi emblems

Sparkle in the candlelight.

herr, herr,

You are my one and only master.

I am fully conquered,

An SS whore fit for chopping up

And shoveling into the hellfire heap

Along with your other toys,

Plastic bimbos with great legs

Spread wide and mouths ready

To go in the perpetual o position,

Aryan blue orbs rolling blankly into the

Backs of their towheads.

herr, herr, you are my one and only master,

they whisper.

Every Woman Adores A FascistBrittany Ciboski

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Brain Sykes-Black and White Garden

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Haley Simone-Sunowers

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Sara Witek-Colorful Horizon

Ian Rigg- How to Stop an Exploding Man

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The WhistlerJeanne Sullivan

A Man stands on a street corner. He is waiting. Standing.

Another man approaches whistling, Yankee Doodle Dan-

dy. He is waiting. Whistling.

The Man glances at The Whistler and resumes waiting.

Could you stop that whistling?

The Whistler laughs, You dont like this song?

No answer.

Waiting. Standing. Whistling.

Im not gonna ask you again, could you stop

that whistling?

Hey, pal, you gotta lighten up

The Whistler falls to the ground in a heap, lips still pursedin a silent whistle. He never saw it coming even though

the piece of lead entered just under his eye,

through his cheekbone.

The flow of red always calmed The Man. The parting of

the Red Sea, he thought. A path to salvation. Like the

sweet hibiscus slowly spreading its arms to embrace the

world. The Man laughed to himself as he thought aboutwhat a great poet he could have been.

Time to go. Theres somewhere else to wait, stand.

The Man stepped around The Whistler as to not disturb his

poetry in progress.

I told you to stop that whistling.

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Muhammad Zeekyra- Wavy Shangrila

Alyssa Dunn-Functioning Self

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As The Ghosts of You

Hang Over My BedAmanda Novak

Eerion and Stephan walked down the dark streets of Chicago,

listening to the wind whistling past frozen trees and crinkled

grass. They were silent, opting to use their energy towards

making it to Luiss house than mindlessly chattering down the

dark blocks. Eerion took this silence as an opportunity to think;

he and Stephan had spent the past weeks dodging looters, hud-

dling in broken down apartments for some hours of rest, acting

in impulse more than thought. This silence gave him time to

think about everything that had happed in three short weeks.

California and New York were gone, pulled to the bottom ofthe ocean like sinking ships. The sun had burned out unexpect-

edly, leaving them in total darkness except for the moon. The

moon had shifted its path and settled too close to Earth, causing

the tides to take out most of the islands and stagnant countries

around the globe. Eerion hadnt even thought about what was

yet to come. He looked at Stephan, watching the other man

blow into his hands and rubbed them together furiously. Ee-rion saw it as wasted effort; everything, including their breath,

screamed cold. Everything screamed despair, frozen apocalyp-

tic despair.

Eerion felt like a life raft balancing on the ocean, ow-

ing with the lap and sway of the blue waves. Drifting with ev-

erything around him, searching for something to grasp in their

frenzied state of events. Eerion acted on impulse, but reectedon the chilling reality among him. He was lost, just like Chi-

cago. Just like the country, and everything else settling in the

globe. His body called for survival, and his thoughts begged for

a place to rest. A place to settle from the swirling chaos of the

ocean around him.

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Stephan placed an arm around Eerion, catching the

wandering boy before he missed the turn on Anderson Street.

One-nine-ve zero-six? Stephan asked, glancing down

Anderson Street. The once beautiful, arboreal front lawns of

Anderson Street were littered with glass and debris. Cars hadbeen turned over; houses had been burnt down and crumbled

from the damage. The welcoming neighbor had joined the rest

of the dark, depleting world, and Eerion shivered at the sight.

Even looking at it chilled him to his bones, causing him to jerk

under Stephans arm. Yeah. Thats it.

Are you nervous?Stephan asked. Eerion looked at

him, an expressionless look falling over his face. Really?Eerion murmured.

Stephan studied Eerions face, glancing for a sign of

emotion, before he turned and pulled Eerion with him. OK.

Eerions only request, before he died, had been to see his father

one last time. He wanted to make amends with the man who

was never there. That way Eerion had said one night, both

men sitting close together in a vacant building, watching loot-

ers wreck a 7-11 across the street, I can go peacefully. I dont

want to leave with regret.

And Stephan had taken it upon himself to get Eerion

there in one piece. Eerion had insisted the statement was made

in passing; he was tired, emotionally drained, falling from an

adrenaline rush from the morning before. He really didnt need

to see his father. But Stephen knew Eerion better than that;

they had been together long enough for Stephan to know when

Eerion was throwing thoughts to the wind, and when Eerion

was talking from the heart. And his wish was something he felt

from the heart.

Eerion stepped over crumbled cinder blocks and house

ruins, grabbing Stephans arm from time to time to nd his bal-

ance. He glanced around instinctively; after weeks of dodging

looters with knives, thieves with guns and, in one case, a nutjob

who had restored to eating people, Eerions wasnt taking any

chances. Stephan glanced around with him, his teeth chattering

in the cold.

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The house was near the opening to the street, and it

wasnt long until Eerion and Stephan found themselves outside

of Luis LEsparzes house. The windows had been blown in,

and the oak front door had been snapped clean off the hinges

and thrown into the front lawn. Eerion pulled away fromStephan and bounded up the door, frantic. Well, at least I got

something out of you. Stephan mumbled to himself, following

Eerion up the steps and into the house.

Eerion launched himself into the living room, tripping

over a fallen glass cabinet. He landed hands rst, yelping at

the pain in his hands. SHIT! Eerion snapped, glancing at his

sliced up hands. Blood started to form around the glass, glow-ing with the clear shards painfully poking into Eerion skin.

Stephan rushed to pull him up, grabbed his wrist to examine

the damage to his hands. He started to gently pick the glass out,

receiving a backhanded smack in the face. Dont touch it!

Eerion whined. Stephan stared at Eerion, trying to process the

fact that he was just backhanded. Then his face screwed up into

a grin. Are you kidding me, Eerion? Its just glass.

It hurts, Stephan! Eerion said, trying to pull the

shards from his hand. He squeaked on a particularly deep one,

icking the glass to the ground and starting on a new piece

when it cleared the skin. You didnt bitch this much when that

lady stabbed you.

Stephan laughed, Eerion LEsparzes, able to take a

stab to the thigh without any problems; bitches like a baby

when he gets scraped by glass.

Oh, bite me, Stephan. Eerion snapped, squeaking as

he pulled another shard from his hand. Stephan chuckled and

walked over towards Eerion, stepping over the fallen glass cab-

inet. The living room was trashed, along with the conjoining

dining room. Stephan passed through the threshold connect-

ing the rooms and glanced into the kitchen, taking in the burnt

remains of the yellow walls. Do you think he left?Stephan

murmured, looking towards Eerion. Eerion, still pulling the

glass from his hands in the living room, shrugged. Maybe

we should leave. Eerion said authoritatively, throwing some

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more glass onto the oor below him. Stephan looked back and

sighed, He might be here, you know. Hell, he might be hiding

after all the noise you made coming in.

Eerion shot him a dangerous look, and then went back

to his picking. He shook his hands frantically when he wasdone, brushing them to his sides. OK, Im done. He mur-

mured. Stephan turned from the kitchen and walked back to

Eerion, pushing him towards the kitchen. Lets check up-

stairs. Eerion and Stephan brushed through the debris-lled

kitchen and up the stairs, Stephan leading them up. The hall-

way was pitch black and eerily silent. Eerion and Stephan

looked at each other, breathed deeply and pushed on down thehallway, nervously awaiting some attack from the darkness

lingering in front. Stephan pushed his hand in front of him and

searched the wall to the left of him, a small sigh of relief

escaping him when his hand landed on a doorknob.

Wanna try here?

Yeah. Its a spare room. Eerion said. He tried map-

ping out the layout from his memories, but the present images

seemed to be obscuring his thoughts. He was sure this was the

guest room with the ugly ower wallpaper. And when Stephan

opened the door, he smiled. Even in the darkness, he could

make out the ugly lavender poesies outlined against yellow

stripes. Stephan glanced into the room. Luis?

Nothing stirred in the room. The silence buzzed around

them, and Eerion pulled passed Stephan into the space. He

ripped open the closet door and glanced into the tiny space,

looking for his father. He overturned bed sheets, his shoulders

drooping when he came up with nothing. Wanna keep going?

Stephan asked sympathetically, wrapping his arm around Ee-

rions shoulders when he returned to the doorway. Eerion nod-

ded sadly. If I nd his body, Im never forgiving you. Eerion

murmured. Stephan hugged him and murmured back,

I know.

The next door Stephan tried led to a pink tiled bathroom

with psychedelic orange walls. Stephan sighed. Youre dad

never really had an eye for interior design, did he? he dead-

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panned, causing Eerion to chuckle slightly. It is an ugly old

house, isnt it? My dad kept it the way it was from the seven-

ties.

Oh, I can tell. Stephan said, The dirty shag carpeting

says it all.Eerion pulled the shower curtain to the side of the wall and

sighed. Nothing. And empty tub. His nerves bounced around in

his stomach. Something was telling him his dad was dead. And

sooner or later, he was going to have to uncover the body. And

sooner or later, he was going to have to deal with the fact that

he would die. And he would have to die with the fact that he

never made peace with his dad.Come on, lets keep looking. We have too more

rooms. Eerion murmured, pushing past Stephan. Stephan nod-

ded and followed behind him, letting Eerion lead the way down

the hall. Eerion swung open a door leading to a small broom

closet. The bottom was buried under a collection of fallen jack-

ets, shoes and board games Eerion had played in his youth. He

got to his knees and began digging, ignoring Stephans pres-

ence next to him, his hands helping Eerion unearth the oor.

Eerion gave up on the task once he reached a part of the oor

and headed to the next door, Stephan close to his heel.

Eerion breathed deeply, his anxiety jumping through

his body like electrical sparks. He wanted so badly to open the

door and get the whole thing over with, yet his body refused

to react to the impulses. Stephan ghosted close behind him,

watching Eerion battle himself. Do you want me to go in

rst?

Eerion looked up at Stephan, biting his lip. There was

a moment of hesitation before Eerion nodded, stepping aside.

If Stephan saw what he feared, he would protect Eerion. He

would close the door and lead Eerion out, keeping him from

witnessing his fathers resting place. Stephan swallowed reec-

tively and twisted the handle, closing his eyes as he pushed the

door open slowly. Eerion put his hands to his nose, tears start-

ing to blur his vision. The room smelled of death. He turned his

face to the wall across from the door and breathed slowly, lis-

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tening to Stephans breath. The only thing that forced him away

from the wall was a soft yelp and the sound of people wrestling

to the oor.

What the- DAD! Eerion pulled away from the wall

frantically and ripped his father off of Stephan. Stephan laidon his back, looking up with his hands up in surrender. Whoa,

Tiger.

Eerion wrinkled his nose at the smell wafting off his fa-

ther. Dirty and alcohol. Eerion felt past anger bubbling into his

stomach, a warm sensation crawling from his gut to his throat,

making him want to yell. Of course he smelled like alcohol; he

ALWAYS smelled like alcohol. Eerion spun his father aroundto face him, his face going red in anger. Dad?

Oh, hey hey Eerion. His father slurred, a stupid

smiled spreading across his face, Hey kiddo. Eerion felt the

tips of his cheeks burn. Youre drunk.

Wha? No! No no no no no no nooo no. Luis said,

pulling away from Eerion and stumping into a wall. No no,

honey, no. Im not drunk- Luis tried to pull himself up, but fell

hard to the oor, causing Eerion to hiss in disgust. Eerion lost

all his want for a xed relationship. He wanted nothing more

than to just leave the older man there, wallowing in his booze

and misery. Stephan pulled himself from the oor and grabbed

Luis by the armpits, pulling him up to stand on the oor. Luis

looked over at Stephan and barked a laugh, slipping from

Stephans grip. Oh, right. Youre the boyfriend, right?

Stephan cleared his throat, adopting a solemn look

directed to the oor. Yeah, yeah. Im the boyfriend, Mr.

LEsparzes-

I mean, is that all youve been doing this last three weeks?

Drinking in- Eerion looked into the room, rage lling his

chest. The stacked beer bottles, the blue bottles of vodka

thrown carelessly throughout the room. The bed covered in

empty cans. Eerion looked at his father, his eyes burning, and

yelled, Are you SERIOUS, dad?

Luis hushed him, pulling from Stephans hands and

stumbling towards his son. Eerion backed away as his father

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came forward to pull him into a hug, sloppily hushing his an-

gry son. Don Dont yell Eerion. Its OK.

Eerion let Luis hug him, his father gently patting his

back. Everything ooded back to Eerion; twenty-ve years of

drunken ramblings, watching his father stumble around thehouse, down the stairs, into walls and tables. Five year old

Eerion getting smacked across the face for laughing, crying,

yelling too loud, asking Luis to stop drinking. Stop being so

destructive, dad... Stop being so careless, daddy... Stop drink-

ing so much, daddy... Stop fucking hitting me, dad... Eerion

stood in the embrace, silently weeping.

He cried for all the feelings he could never erase, andthe horrible memories he could never shake. He cried for little

Eerion, hiding scared under his bed, and for big Eerion, who

grew up confused and demanding. He cried for Stephan, who

had to witness this sick destruction. And nally, he cried for

himself. He pitied himself for taking so much energy, risking

his and Stephans life, and ghting off elements and human-

kind for a man who wasnt even searching for him. He risked

his life for a man who would rather spend the beginning of the

apocalypse drowning himself in alcohol than searching for his

sons. Sons he claimed he always loved.

Eerion knew in his heart that nothing would make it

better. He could never be at peace with his past, or with his

father. There was nothing left for him in this broken house but

painful hits and drunken memories. And some things, Eerion

believed, were never meant to be xed. Some things were

meant to be left to die off themselves.

Eerion pulled back and smiled at his father. The ac-

tion made Stephan uneasy, but he remained in the darkness of

the hallway. Im happy I found you, dad but I have to go.

Stephan and I need to go.

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Ah, ok, Eerion. Im glad you came to visit. Luis

slurred, smiling back at Eerion, an air of inebriated naivety

crossing his face. He almost looked innocent, in a way. He

knew nothing about the outside world, or the destruction fall-

ing around him. He was the childish drunk hiding in his house,nding any source of drink he could nd. Eerion pulled him

back into the room, raising his nose to the bed full of cans. He

swept the bed off with his hand and pulled his father under

the covers, tucking him into bed. Like Eerion used to in high

school, when Luis would get so drunk, hed forget where he

slept. And Eerion would nd him in the kitchen, banging things

and screaming about how many fucking hallways this damnedhouse had. And Eerion would lead him to his room silently. He

would tuck his dad in bed with his day clothes still on, and lean

him on his side so he would not choke during the night. Eerion

pulled the covers to his dads face. See you later, kiddo. Love

you. His dad murmured. Eerion stopped for a moment, tak-

ing in his fathers words. Eerion sighed, choking back an angry

snap, and said, Yeah dad. See you later.

Eerion snapped the door shut and he and Stephan left

silently, bracing the cold night air on Anderson Street. They

looked back at the house, Eerion nally wiping his wet face.

Stephan broke the silence rst, clearing his throat. Did did

it help? Seeing him again? Eerion drew out a long breath,

watching his breath puff out into a large cloud of air.

Maybe things arent meant to be xed. Maybe, some-

times things are just meant to be left alone Eerion gave

Stephan a weak smile and reached his hand out to him. Some-

times things should just be left alone. Stephan gripped his

hand and they left, Eerion demons hovering like ghosts. Ghostsglowing in the wreckage of Chicago.

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Megan Panella-Untitled

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Jason Gatuz- Soldiers

Matt Krakowski-Absense of Light

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Rock & A Hard PlaceRosie Red Charles

Stuck between a rock and a hard place

so I dont know which route to go

stuck between my thoughts and my heartbut I dont wanna seem shallow

Im stuck where you left me

confused and wondering why

Im stuck here on earth

between hell and the almighty sky

why.. why me? is something I continue to wonder

yet every time I travel down that road my heart begins to thun-

der

then ache because its on the verge of a break

or I thought

stuck between a rock and a hard place Im numb

and today of all days youve never looked so dumb

I look at me and see what you had and chose to throw away

I look at me and cant grasp why your mind didnt sway

but thats ok

stuck between a rock and a hard place

one mans trash is another mans treasure

one mans irritation is a better mans pleasure

what one cant do another will do better


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that rock doesnt seem so hard


the rock begins to disintegrate when I start to ignoreand begin to explore whats been there all along..


this farewell was long over due

stuck between a hard place and a rock

I continue to wish the best to you

or so I think

I nd it ridiculous how in a blink

of an eye you go from my man to just some guy


now I know better

Im no longer stuck in my room writing you love letters

Im doing me while youre doing..

whatever it is you do

Im happy being just me until a man like Boaz comes through

but thank you

for everything you put me through


I bid farewell to you..

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Molly Grupka-Ride Me 1

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Molly Grupka-Ride Me 2

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Little RedDanyelle Meyer

Everything in the forest seemed dead.

No birds were chirping to ll the afternoon silence. The sky

seemed an endless blue with no clouds or sun in sight. The deer

that usually drank from the nearby creek were non-existent,as were the other various non-descript creatures that he never

bothered to remember the names of.

The wolf snorted from his relaxed position on the at

rock, the sun soaking into his thick black fur. His golden eyes

danced from tree to tree, trying to remember the deep, calming

green of the layers of leaves, the rich, passionate purple of the

owers that littered the forest oor, and the vibrant, obnoxiousyellow of the birds that ittered about.

None of it was coming back.

He turned his attention to his ever-constant companion. Her

red, red cape the color of fresh blood covered her body in a

thick blanket, hiding everything except her childish face fromhis view. Long, wild midnight black hair spilled from her hood,

shifting with every movement of her body. Pale ngers danced

along the wreath of owers between them, seeming to glow in

their own luminescence. Pink geraniums, blue hyacinths, white

mock oranges, and orange lilies all came together in a large,

inter-woven circle.

Your level of stupidity is astounding.

The words seemed to echo from the empty trees surrounding

them. The wolf snarled in anger at the insult, staring into the

eyes that frightened him so much. Their color was a dark, dark

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brown that almost seemed black, making that eternally childish

face seem almost demonic. They stared right back, unafraid;

while her pale pink lips curled into an almost indulgent smile

that made her seem like a parent watching over her adorable,

misguided child.

It pissed him off to no end.

Her blank, blank eyes continued to stare at him while her lumi-

nescent ngers continued to expertly dance around the crown

of assorted pinks, blues, oranges and whites. He watched the

hypnotizing movements with a trance-like quality, ignoringeverything but those pale digits.

I will always be here, my friend. A constant thorn at your side.

The phrase my friend was spoken in a tone drenched in a con-

tradictory mixture of sarcasm and sincerity. He never remem-

bered agreeing to be her friend, she was just kind ofthere.

He snorted through his extended muzzle as her smile

turned mischievous, tting into the contours of her face more

naturally. She always seemed to nd him, he thought absently.

No matter how far he ran or where he hid, the little girl in the

red, red cape would always show up eventually, like an an-

noying little lady bug. Both are sure to taste nasty, he thought

certainly. Disregarding the fact, that he vowed as a cub to never

eat a bug in his life.

You shouldnt deceive yourself, Mr. Wolf. She said with

a small, humorless smirk. You know I taste delicious.

He snorted again before turning to his side, presenting her with

his black covered back. Trying to ignore her giggles that once

again echoed around him in an endless orchestra, he refocused

on trying to remember the colors that were once so prominent

in his life.

Absently, he listened to the soft, almost crisp crunches of the

stems of the owers as they fell prey to her restless hands.

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They fell into the silence that had become almost com-

forting in its consistent presence. He, trying to remember the

details that had made his world so vibrant in the past while she

focused on the construction of the colorful wreath.

You know Mr. Wolf, I almost hate you. You are allowed to be

wild and free to your hearts content, while I am stuck here.

Why cant I be free, Mr. Wolf?

He considered her question, answers coming to mind but none

of them the one that she wanted so desperately to hear. So, like

every other day he would ignore to the glowing little girl withthe face of an angel and the eyes of the devil.

Closing his dull gold eyes, the wolf with the black, black fur

forced his tired body to sleep, knowing that when he awoke the

ghost of his precious Little Red would be gone, leaving behind

a wilted wreath made of folly, constancy, deceit and hatred ly-

ing atop a red, red cape stained crimson and worn with age.

He slept, knowing her memory would haunt him again tomor-

row. Stealing the color and sound from his world and forcing

him into the hell that was the memory of his only friend in his

cold, lonely existence. Forcing him to remember the day that

he had killed and eaten her in a t of rage, tearing into her in

a blind frenzy. Forcing him to remember her last words and

screams. The big, bad wolfs lips curled into a toothy smile.

Oh my, the ghost said in mock innocence. What large teeth you

have.

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Arriel Lockett-Beauty of a Rose

Tom Rohlf-Shroom World

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Haley Simone-Subconscious

Alyssa Dunn-Breathe

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Alyssa Dunn-Anatomy

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Tommy Horton-Green Eyes 1

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Tommy Horton-Green Eyes 2

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Haley Simone-The Town

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Lindsey Surin-Rip

Dan Pisciotti-Yin Yang Fish

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Marie Hackert-Through My Eyes

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Elizabeth Bennet-Owls

Brennan Weaver-Zombie Puking Up Rainbow

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Erica Hernandez-Clover Honey

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In the living room, I am sculpting life into order.

Putting away books, discarding empty soda cans, finallyopening last weeks mail.

My cat, Sadie sneaks into the room to observe my actions.

Is this your cup of tea? she asks.

Yes, please dont touch it, its hot.

Sadie sits close to my tea cup, but not too close.

The telephone rings and I leave to answer its call.

I return to find my tea cup and tea spilled on the carpet.How did this happen? I ask.

I dont know she says with a guilty grin.

Will you help me?

Of course

Together we pick up the pieces.

Jeanne Sullivan

Tea For Two

s

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Art Faculty:

Advisor Nathan PeckEnglish Faculty:Advisor Norm Boyer

Art Editors:

Haley SimoneMolly GrupkaAlyssa Dunnom RohlfsAaron Viramontes

Brian SykesArriel Lockett

Literary Editors:

Amanda NovakBrittany Ciboski

Layout Editors:

Haley SimoneAlyssa DunnMolly Grupka

Cover Editors:

Aaron Viramontesom RohlfsArriel Lockett

Opus 2013 Vol. 53 is made possible with the sponsorshipof the Student Activities Fund.

Saint Xavier University3700 West 103rd Street

Chicago, IL 60655

Saint Xaviers Visual Art Center10435 South Spaulding

Chicago, IL 60655

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opus 53 2013

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