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Happy 3 rd Anniversary!
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T ABLE OF C ONTENTS
Flushed Away: The Toilet Ring by Amy Dana-Mayernick .................... 6 Sculpture by Aimee Garcia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Ode to the Hedgehog by Colleen Lavelle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Gratitude by Carol Taveras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Your Face by Emily Weidner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Dedicated to a Stranger by Aimee Garcia ............................... 13 Untitled by Anonymous .............................................. 14 Smile and Kindness by Anonymous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 If thought, a penny worth... by Anonymous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 A Non-Native English Speaker Taking Her First College Class by Lourdes Sopon Porres. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 (Ac)quit by Violet Rose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Gone Too Soon by Ruby Walborn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Cold and Flu Season by Beth Sodergren . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 A Haiku Troika by J. Schultz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 The Battle for Bloom by Alexandria Dunnion ............................ 22 Flowers by Emily Weidner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Spring at LCCC by Courtney Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Untitled by Colleen Lavelle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 The Value of Doing Nothing by Chase Biller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 The Seven Deadly Sins by Emily Weidner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Unwrap the Magic by Carol Infante . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
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T ABLE OF C ONTENTS
Money Is Wonderfully Evil by Emily Weidner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Popular Girl Mediation between Rich Boy and Skater Boy by Beth Sodergren . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Mask of King Tut by JMart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 The Atypical in a Neurotypical World by Beth Sodergren . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Adoption and Foster Care by Madison Haldeman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 Untitled by Colleen Lavelle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 The Bigger Picture by Skyler May . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 Naivety by Edmund Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 Dreams by Shantay Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 2 Corinthians 10:4 by Edmund Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 This Place I Know by Amy Dana-Mayerick ............................... 82 The Trip to Forget by Amanda Lightcap . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 The Violent Rose by Ruth Haverschmidt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 The Blank Page by Jerome Williams .................................... 99 Side Effects by Jennifer Yinger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Sonnet #155 by Connor James ....................................... 100 Major Change by Reggie Ann Stashevsky ............................... 101 A Kiss with Eyes Open by Stacey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Pardon Me, Joe by Sherice Williams ................................... 103 Dulcinea’s Ultimátum by Jesus Martinez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
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Daylight Savings Time by RS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 Life: A Son-Ku (sonnet-haiku hybrid) by Brenda Evans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 The Last Laugh by J. Schultz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Legacy by John M. Castagna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 Womb by John M. Castagna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Again Tennessee by Hanna Pena . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 A Starry Life by Connor Dempkosky ................................... 111 George by Christine Ferrato . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 Embers of Change by Wilma Rosa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 The Brodesian Conspiracy by J. Schultz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 T ABLE OF C ONTENTS
About Ablaze : Ablaze is the digital journal of writing at LCCC. We publish the work of students, staff, and faculty across a wide range of genres, including short stories, poems, essays, research papers, and features. ©2023, Ablaze Our Staff: Dr. H Ed Ackerman Kim Hess
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Flushed Away: The Toilet Ring
Amy Dana-Mayernick
“Remember that time you flushed $1,000 down the toilet?”
My teenage daughter Morgan rolls her eyes and huffs at me in return. She remembers. I can laugh about it now, but she’s not there yet. By the time I found out, it had already been missing for a year. She, however, witnessed it firsthand and was powerless to stop it. There are many things we lose over time, too gradually to notice. Like gently receding waters, they slowly slip away, unmarked, unnoticed, until they’re simply gone. I could not tell you the last time this daughter picked a pile of dandelions to fist into my open palm or sat in my lap with a book in her hands. I cannot recall when she last asked me for a horsey-back ride around the living room or fell so heavily asleep I had to hoist her over my shoulder to carry her to bed. But I can tell you these things don’t happen anymore.
Thankfully. We’re the same size now and my back would object.
Losing my favorite piece of jewelry was like this. One day Morgan borrowed my best stackable ring, and then never returned it. Eventually, I noticed. I asked for it back. She objected. At the time, she said she’d misplaced it and was afraid to tell me. It went into a pants pocket before gym class and simply vanished. She asked me not to be mad, and I wasn’t, but I was a little sad for the loss.
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It was a costly and stunning piece: a white-gold, diamond-laden ring that looped and curled, emulating a leafy floral vine. Just like the loss of handpicked back- yard blossoms, a beautiful thing had just disappeared from my life forever. But that ring, as lovely as it was, was not worth my anger. No amount of indignation would make it reappear from that empty pants pocket. I was sad it was gone, but I said we’d keep an eye out for it; maybe it would resurface someday.
As I learned a year later, it never would. But the truth of its disappearance certainly did. My daughter wandered from room to room one evening with her phone in hand, giggling with her best friend Athena about a tiny tube of roll-on vanilla perfume that had fallen out of her pants pocket in the school restroom and was promptly lost to the automatic flush. “It was my favorite one!” she slapped a palm to her forehead, seeming distressed but laughing anyway. “Well, it’s not the first time!” Athena pointed out. “Didn’t you lose a ring that way?” I looked up from my book.
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“It’s not lost, it’s just down the street,” she said, wrinkling her nose, an allusion to the unfortunate proximity between the town’s miasmic sew- age plant and the high school.
“Wait a second,” I chimed in. “Which ring?”
“Yours. The flower one. Remember?”
“Say what, now?”
“Oop… Athena, I have to go.” She smashed one finger down on the screen to disconnect the call, then turned her head in my direction with a deep breath and a sheepish smile. Now, I may not remember the last time my daughter suddenly clamored into my bed mid-night or took a flying leap to cling to my torso, but I do remember the last time I seriously lost my temper with her, and I remember it with humbling, haunting clarity. It was over a three-dollar hotdog at an outdoor event, first begged for, and then discarded in the dirt. It also was my first rodeo with the fickle, wayward beasts they call “toddlers,” as though the cutesy name will soften the horrors within. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and desperate to step away, to scream into the void, but there was no void to be found. Only a small sobbing child, powerless and confused; she has always been afraid of sudden noises and loud voices.
My own voice was suddenly loud enough to resonate regretfully in my heart over a decade later.
But at that moment, what I really lost was any desire to parent with the
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harsh authoritarianism that was far too familiar to me. It surged in angrily like a tidal wave on the shore, and then flowed away with the ebbing of my daughter’s spent tears. I didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time. So, what could I do when I learned my daughter had sanitized the story about what happened to my favorite ring? Should I yell and scream? Apply a guilt trip? Make a big show of never trusting her again? Would that bring back my ring? No, but I might lose something more valuable, like my daughter’s confidence and trust, however belated it may have been. What I did instead was to sit quietly and empathize with my child. I imagined the moment of revulsion when she saw that little treasure plop into the commode. I heard the sigh of resignation and the resolved roll-up of a sleeve for the world’s worst fishing expedition. And then, I felt the absolute gut-punch of the wet whoosh that swept it away. Then, I considered her halting hesitation to relive the moment by telling me the unvarnished truth about what really happened. I empathized. I understood. And then, I let it go. And I laugh about it from time to time, just to ease her unease. I tease her about it. I joke about it. And now I write about it. The Crappy Situation. The Big Flush of Fate. The Porcelain Purge.
A thousand dollars quite literally flushed down the toilet.
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Sculpture Touch me like a sculpture just the way you held her. Touching the skin from the chin to the lines of the body so thin. How can you touch a body made of clay and water, an object that is monochrome more intimately than the one you call home? You look into those lifeless eyes as I watch and cry, then pray to the skies that your hands will be on mine and feel the woman that is so divine. Sacrificing all your time to perfect every single line a beauty of your design. So hold me like you do with her the her that is only a sculpture.
Aimee Garcia
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Ode to the Hedgehog
Colleen Lavelle
Oh, dear hedgehog, how you make my heart rise, with your beautiful, deep and soulful eyes.
Oh, how the touch of your nose curls my toes. Oh, how your quills are so delicate and fine, I hope you can still be mine. Oh, my beloved hedgehog, please forgive me, never again will I misspeak, and call you a porcupine.
Gratitude
Carol Taveras
Gratitude is morning light Soft and warm, a quiet smile. It lives in hearts that choose to see The gifts in all that comes to be. A whispered thanks, a gentle smile Can turn a moment, stretch a mile. For joy is rooted, deep and true In saying simply, Thank you.
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Your Face
Emily Weidner
I think I see your face everywhere I go. Written in the clouds and earth and perhaps even the snow. Beautiful illusions; beating hearts so frail. Past shattered in the air
fallen with the hail.
Stalking me forever Melted in this haze Can you see me now
all places I must be. lost grip on reality.
eyes never leaving you? a heart and mind so true.
Somewhere in all the mess Watch me if you will at
all
times of the day. call mere child’s play. perhaps you will. I watch this heart spill.
Unfold in the chaos Wait for me now Blood leaks out And yet you’re still Scattered ashes to Watch and wait still a Shadow lurking so What if I see your
I
if
as
right here.
keep the fear.
too
risky game.
what
if I’m to blame?
face
because I’m the one fixed on you? in this, arms bound at the wrists.
Maybe you had no place in Blinded by the truth I chose to
hold in clenched fists.
Is this just a game or part of a greater show? I think I see your face everywhere I go.
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Dedicated to a Stranger
Aimee Garcia
This heart is yours even as these years start to blur. Every day on my mind of the moment our bodies intertwine. I pray for you everyday even if my hair starts to turn gray.
My soul longs only for you don’t you feel it too? This destiny of love,
wishing to the skies above. God I’m slowly falling apart waiting for you to claim my heart.
I know you’re desperate for love and affection. To find that beautiful connection. So, please wait for me oh please oh please I plea. For I will stay dedicated ‘til that day arrives even if we have to wait ‘til our next lives.
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Untitled
Anonymous
In my dreams When I relax We stand side-to-side Or back-to-back Your hand is close Close to Mine I want to reach Let our fingers intertwine Oh no, going cold Dead and undead by the time The birds hit their first note
Oh no, it’s so Hard to say “love” when My world is overgrown
In my dreams You’re looking back I hide my eyes Won’t fantasize How you’d react
I think I like you I think I’m scared I see pieces of you In paintings everywhere Can’t really write poems I’ll stick to prose
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Anonymous Smile and Kindness A simple smile or words of understanding can be uplifting to any person. Someone could be struggling with anything, maybe feeling unhappy or overwhelmed with their studies or life events. A smile or the simple act of listening can go a long way to changing a person’s day. While you continue through your day, look up instead of down at your phone, make eye contact, smile, and ask, “How are you?” Try to have a conversation, even a small one, with a classmate or colleague that might be struggling to connect with people too. Social anxiety affects a lot of people. Practice some patience with the parent trying to wrangle their kids, or individuals with developmental disabilities. Instead of laughing or taking videos of the misfortune of others, pick your head up, smile, and show the world some kindness. In the current state of the world, a little kindness and under- standing is needed more than ever.
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Anonymous If thought, a penny worth… If thought, a penny worth, times this fourteen, I’ve fourteen less what’s owed, due t’the obscene. For to rebut the bard, art suicide. And fairer play would fit the Zanney scheme.
You speak of time while feeding love’s flower, But if players write like honest lyre The shimmering music holds the power. If not, I, in no time wilt, expire. What, then? Bend stem as an eroded rose, Begging the sun to help me grow and thrive? Or beg the keeper, hungry, writing prose, And sunless be, into time’s depths I dive. I choose a penny from the sun-filled sky. Rather than waste the dream, I scream, “How high?”
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Learning English as a second language can be challenging. For me, this was a necessary in order to continue my education in the United States. When I started at LCCC (Luzerne County Community College), my grammar skills were not as good as I thought; I needed reinforcement with my spelling and verb tenses. When it comes to effective writing, having good grammar, no spelling errors and good punctuation are necessary in order to com- municate effectively. Therefore, I knew this class would help me improve my grammar and writing skills. One of the improvements I have made is comma splices. For example, when writing a sentence in an essay, I now know that in order to separate two ideas I can use a semicolon or a com- ma, this provides the reader a guide on how my ideas are placed. However, the three most important improvements I have made during the semester have been punctuation marks, citations, and coherence. My first improvement was learning to correctly place punctuation marks, such as periods, commas, apostrophes, colons, semicolons, and quotation marks. Punctuation marks help the reader to understand the text; by placing them correctly, the communication becomes clear and concise. For example, in my two previous essays (Process and Research), I used punctation to organize and structure my ideas to make sure the sentences I conveyed were clear. Also, I saw improvements reflected in my punctua - tion when I scored ninety-five on a fragment quiz. My second improvement was learning to correctly cite sources. Using in- formation from books, websites, and articles, I have to give credit to the original author. Citations are references to sources I use whenever drafting an essay or research project. In my last essay (Researched Contrast Essay), I cited sources I got the information from. For example, I used information A Non-Native English Speaker Taking Her First College English Class Lourdes Sopon Porres
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from the CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Preven- tion) webpage, and I had to correctly place the citation after the sentence I quoted using the author and page number. By correctly citing a source, I avoid plagiarism and show that I did my own re- search about a specific topic.
The last and most important improvement I made was coherence, which is how to make my ideas flow clearly and logically. For a non-native English speaker like me, the impor- tance of coherence is an essential part of becoming a good communicator in a country where the English language is in use on all aspects of everyday life. For example, I wrote three essays throughout the semester, and with each essay I noticed how my ideas flowed smoothly from one sentence to another. What helped was learning the use of conjunctions and transition words in practical exercises I did during class. Learning how to connect and join the ideas within the essay has been extremely helpful in getting my thoughts across to the reader and making my message clear. In conclusion, the three improvements I have made during the semester - punctuation marks, citations, and coherence - would definitely play a significant role in my future education. I will use and continue to improve the use of proper grammar in my future classes, because I now see the importance of well-structured grammar in written form.
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(Ac)quit
Violet Rose
To my longest love, your sweet silhouette Haunts my days, my dreams, each and every breath.
The wisest man tells me I should forget, But forgetting my past would lead to death. The option of you sits there on my shelf. So, I know it’s always my choice to delve Into the darkness where I lost myself Using your glow. My attempt to absolve. My resolve. Choices like you turn to ash. They use words like quit, but alack, alas… I don’t quit; you’re just a check I can’t cash. So, tribute to you sits, looking so crass.
It’s an illusion, this powerlessness. But you’ll have your say the day I regress.
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Gone Too Soon
Ruby Walborn
I can sit and dwell What might have been I read old letters And look at past photos What-ifs and should-haves
Entering my thoughts Water filling my eyes And all I can ask is why I am watching our daughter in pain Her heart aching in sorrow Wishing you would walk through that door tomorrow It makes me smile to know You have taught her so much How to check her oil, jump her car, garden and cook And the love you two had for campfires You are now her angel from above Keep her safe and send her signs of love
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Cold and Flu Season
Beth Sodergren
Never moved by someone To change genres, to Compose I’m one sick adult Who has contracted this thing That makes me lazy
I feel sick indeed With cough, sore throat, and headache And fever as well
Hopefully I get Back to being in full health So I can see friends
A Haiku Troika
J. Schultz
Cracked sidewalk green Peeks out seeking sun-shining Passing pooch must bark Congested highway Stone strikes windscreen angrily Not stealing my joy Thirty April ends Yellow three-stripe flag tumbles Red and gold star wins
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The Battle for Bloom
Alexandria Dunnion
A whisper started, soft and low, A shadowed path where dreams don’t grow.
At twenty years, a fragile soul, Lost to the lure, beyond control. The needle’s kiss, a fleeting ease, A hollow comfort in the breeze Of broken promises and tears,
Through two long decades, heavy years. Her spirit dimmed, a flickering flame, Whispering a forgotten name, The girl she was, before the blight, Lost in the endless, starless night. Then, a tremor, unexpected grace, A fragile hope that saw her through The clinging darkness, the despair, A sudden, fierce and urgent prayer. For this small seed, this nascent bloom, She fought the shadows of her tomb. The grip released, the chains unbound, On sacred, newly fertile ground. The battle raged, a brutal fight, Towards the dawning of the light. Ten years have passed, and seasons spun, A bright-eyed boy, her victory won. He wears the blue of Cub Scouts’ pride, With badges earned, he stands beside His mother, strong, with steady gaze, A tiny flutter in her space. A life ignited, pure and new,
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Through Sunday hymns and prayerful days. We cheer and shout, a joyful sound, On solid earth, where roots are found. For her, the books, the turning page, Reclaiming dreams from a long-lost age. The hum of knowledge, sharp and clear, Dispelling shadows, calming fear. Each lesson learned, a step anew, Becoming whole, and strong, and true. The laughter shared, the gentle touch, A love that means and matters much. Awakens now from troubled sleep. The vibrant hues, the sun’s warm kiss, The simple, pure and lasting bliss Of being present, being real, The wounds still there, but now they heal. A mother’s love, a spirit free, A testament to what can be. From ashes born, a phoenix bright, She walks in wholeness, bathed in light. No longer just a hollow shell, A story whispered, dark to tell. The girl of fifteen, buried deep,
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Flowers
Emily Weidner
My father loves his flowers, He cuts them to arrange. Takes them from where they’re growing, And throws them into change. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” He lines them up in gardens, And pulls them from their beds, Rips them from their roots, And cuts off all their heads. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” He wraps them in tight ribbons, Presses them in glass, Watches them slowly wither, As the time begins to pass. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” He gathers them for beauty, Displays for all to see. He never sees the bruises, The tears upon the leaves. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” He talks about perfection, The purity of their gaze. But he doesn’t see the fractures, The tears upon their face.
“What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” He doesn’t hear the whispers, The silent cries of pain. The healthy flowers crumble, Beauty lost in vain. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” The blooms begin to wilt, The petals start to shed. He doesn’t see them dying, Doesn’t care if they are dead. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Nothing, Father.” “What are you doing, my flower?” “Growing, Father.” She spread her roots deep in the earth, Flowers blossomed into might. The sun began to shine; She’s no longer bound by night. “What are you doing, my flower?” “Living, Father.”
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Spring at LCCC
Courtney Smith
The snow dried up from the campus walks, And voices rise up with chatter and talks. Books in hand – it’s off to class, LCCC in bloom, we all want to pass.
A chance to grow, to take a stance, It’s spring already gone in a glance.
Untitled
Colleen Lavelle
There is no expiration date on The Bible; His Word never expires.
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Chase Biller The Value of Doing Nothing “Doing nothing often leads to the very best something.” That’s not just a wise quote from Winnie the Pooh—it’s also something I’ve come to believe is true, especially in a world that doesn’t seem to stop moving. We live in a society obsessed with productivity. If we’re not doing something, we’re wasting time. At least, that’s what we’re told. But here’s the thing: not every moment needs to be optimized. Sometimes, the most valuable thing we can do… is nothing at all. Now, I’m not saying we should abandon all responsibilities and sit on the couch binge-watching TV for days (though, let’s be honest, we all need that once in a while). What I’m talking about is taking intentional breaks—real, unstructured moments where we let our minds wander, reflect, or just breathe. Moments that don’t have a goal or a grade attached to them. When I first started college, I felt the pressure immediately. Between lec - tures, assignments, part-time work, and social obligations, there was barely time to think, let alone relax. I felt guilty whenever I wasn’t actively “doing something.” But over time, especially through writing assignments where I had the chance to slow down and reflect, I started to understand how im - portant rest really is. I found that some of my best ideas didn’t come to me while staring at a blinking cursor or hunched over a textbook. They came during walks, while listening to music, or even while lying on the floor doing absolutely nothing. That’s when connections formed, creativity sparked, and clarity happened. I started seeing value in those in-between moments. It wasn’t about being lazy. It was about making space—for thoughts, for rest, for life. It’s easy to get caught up in the pressure to be productive 24/7, especially as a student. But the truth is, we aren’t machines. We need stillness just as much as we need structure. Think of it like this: even your phone needs to charge. So do we.
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Doing nothing isn’t just a break from life—it’s a part of it. It’s the moment before a big idea, the breath before a decision, the silence that lets the noise settle. It’s not wasted. It’s necessary. So, if you’re reading this and you’re feeling like you always have to hustle— pause. Go outside. Stare at the clouds. Breathe. Let your brain off the hook for a little while. You might be surprised by what happens when you do.
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The Seven Deadly Sins
Emily Weidner
Characters • YOUNG WOMAN – A mysterious YOUNG WOMAN holding a light. • PRIDE – An elaborately dressed young man, exuding an air o superiority. Speaks with a posh accent. Always cleaning his awards. • GREED – An older man who is always looking for opportunities to have more. Perpetually counting money. • LUST – A young, seductive, and provocatively-dressed woman, determined to draw attention with every move. • ANGER – A hot-headed and miserable young man, eager to explode at every chance. Always speaks angrily. • ENVY – A deeply jealous old woman, attempting to mimic those around her, wanting what everyone else has. • GLUTTONY – A plump, middle-aged man, perpetually eating, never satisfied. • SLOTH – A lazy and disinterested YOUNG WOMAN. Talks slow. Scene A couch sits on stage right. Beside it is a table with three chairs. On stage left there are two armchairs with a small table in between and a trophy case behind them. Some shelves, cabinets, and portraits line the walls. To begin, the stage is completely dark. In the distance, we can hear the sound of faint and hesitant footsteps. [ YOUNG WOMAN emerges from backstage center, unseen by audience. All that is seen is the small, flickering light she carries. The light grows stronger as she walks to center stage, where she pauses. Then, a spotlight shines down on her.]
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YOUNG WOMAN: [staring at the lights she carries with shaky hands.] What am I supposed to do with this? [After a brief moment of silence, the stage lights flicker on, revealing the rest of the stage. The Sins are positioned around the stage. At first, they don’t move, but as the lights fully come on, they begin their actions. SLOTH is laying on the ground, legs idly propped up on the couch. LUST sits on the couch, legs crossed and sipping red wine. GREED and ANGER are seated at the table. GREED counts stacks of money while ANGER glares at him. GLUTTONY and ENVY are
seated in the armchairs, GLUTTONY snacking on something with crumbs flying and ENVY watching LUST from across the room, crossing legs as if to imitate. PRIDE stands at the trophy case polishing some awards. YOUNG WOMAN does not notice them at first, as she is totally fixated on the light, then her gaze wavers and she realizes these people have been there all along.]
YOUNG WOMAN: [Looking around in confusion] Who… who are you?
[The sins pause momentarily as all but SLOTH turn to face her.]
ANGER: [Cracking Knuckles] Took you long enough to notice.
YOUNG WOMAN: [Flinches, dropping the light a little lower] I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—
LUST: [twirling a lock of hair] Relax. He means no harm. All he means to say is that we’ve been waiting for you. [tucks hair behind ear] I’ve been waiting for you.
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PRIDE: [setting down a trophy] I happen to pride myself in honesty. My dear friends both mean to say that you have neglected our presence for far too long. Oh, how enthusiastically we’ve all waited for you to finally welcome us!
[GIRL’s eyes flicker to SLOTH still flopped across the floor, unmoving.]
YOUNG WOMAN: Is she...?
SLOTH: Just two.
YOUNG WOMAN: W-what?
SLOTH: There’s just the two spiders on the ceiling. [points to the roof in two different spots] Nothing more, nothing less. [finally turns head to face the Young Woman] Will you let them stay? YOUNG WOMAN: [Lightly shakes head before clutching light a little tighter] Look, I’m very sorry. I didn’t know I was making anyone wait on me. How long have I kept you?
ANGER: [scoffs] How long?! Lady, do you even know—
GREED: [without looking up from his money] You’ve managed to avoid us for a long time now. You’ve encountered each of us, but you have yet to let us stay. However, [he finally looks at her, or rather, her light] as long as that light burns, I think we can make a deal. ENVY: [stands, walking toward Greed still seated at the table] Why should you be the one to make a deal, huh? Why is it always you? [pokes her finger into his shoulder] Shouldn’t we all have our turns? Shouldn’t I have my turn? [turns to Young Woman, expression softening] That is a beautiful light. Maybe you could let me see it, dear.
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YOUNG WOMAN: [takes a step back, clutching the light closer] That’s okay. I’m supposed to keep it.
GLUTTONY: [with a full mouth] Who told you a thing like that?
YOUNG WOMAN: [holding the light protectively, her voice firmer now] I… I just know. I was given this light to carry. It’s not for you or anyone else. I’m just supposed to keep it bright and burning. GLUTTONY: [laughing between bites, crumbs spilling onto the floor] Not for us? That doesn’t seem very fair. Can’t you share just a little? Enough to fill the emptiness inside? ANGER: [slamming his fist into the table] Enough of this nonsense! Don’t let them talk circles around you. Say no if you mean it! Or… maybe you don’t know what you mean. You’re scared, aren’t you? Don’t even know why you’re holding onto that thing.
YOUNG WOMAN: I’m not scared. I just… I don’t—
LUST: [approaching Young Woman] Don’t worry, darling. They’re just fools. They could never understand you like I do. [begins to braid Young Woman’s hair] And I think you can understand me, too. You have that beautiful light, but I have nothing. I was never given such a precious gift. Truly, in all my life, I’ve never seen anything more worthy of affection. Could I just hold it for a moment? YOUNG WOMAN: [pulling away from Lust’s touch] I… no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not supposed to let it go. LUST: Oh, darling, you wound me. I would never hurt something so precious. [she glances at the others] I’m not like them. They are here to take, to ruin you. But me? I’m only here to help, to protect you.
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GREED: Protect her? Don’t make me laugh. You want the light the same as all of us. [he pockets some coins as he stands, walking towards the Young Woman.] How about we make a deal? You give me the light and I give you say—I don’t know—everything you’ve ever wanted?
YOUNG WOMAN: Everything I’ve ever wanted?
ENVY: Oh, don’t listen to that load of bull. Why should he get your light? Why should any of them? They’ve always had more than me, and now you do, too. Please, just let me hold it for a moment. Let me feel what it’s like. Just one moment. PRIDE: [straightening a medal he wears around his neck] Pathetic. All of you, pathetic. She doesn’t need your pity or your schemes. She needs my guidance. Unlike the rest of you, I actually know what to do with such a radiant gift. Under my direction your light will shine brighter than ever— brighter than you knew possible. SLOTH: Or you could just stop listening to all of them. Stop trying so hard. They can’t take it from you, you know. You have to give it to them. Just ig- nore them. Have a seat by me. [pats the floor beside her before yawning] Doesn’t it get heavy carrying that thing around all the time? Put it down for a while. Just rest.
YOUNG WOMAN: Wait, you can’t take it?
SLOTH: [stretching] Of course we can’t. It’s yours. You have to give it to us.
[ YOUNG WOMAN takes a few closer to SLOTH .]
GLUTTONY: She’s not as trustworthy as she looks.
YOUNG WOMAN: What do you mean?
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GLUTTONY: She left something very important out of that explanation.
YOUNG WOMAN: What are you talking about?
ANGER: If you put the darn light down like she wants you to, she can take it.
YOUNG WOMAN: [clutching light tighter and backing up again] What?
PRIDE: I’ve always known her to be a cheeky little devil. Always unassuming. That’s how she gets exactly what she wants. GREED: There are three ways to lose your light. You give it to one of us, you set it down, or you forget about it.
YOUNG WOMAN: But if you want my light, why would you tell me that?
PRIDE: Because knowing means nothing. People knowingly do the wrong thing all the time, and you will, too. ENVY: And I’ll be the one to get you to do it. You’ll share that pretty little light and we’ll team up against all these people and take everything they have and destroy them. It’ll be you and me and that perfect little light. LUST: [resting a hand on Young Woman’s shoulder] Young women like us needn’t worry about her. She possesses neither beauty nor worth. But you, darling, are everything. Just look at yourself. [she holds up a mirror for Young Woman to look into] Aren’t you perfect? Just like me. Just like that light. Think of all the possibilities.
YOUNG WOMAN: [backing away from Lust] I just want to leave this place.
GLUTTONY: Won’t you at least stay for a meal?
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YOUNG WOMAN: No. I really… I have to go.
GREED: Too bad you don’t know how. It was you who faltered, whose eyes wandered, wasn’t it? You’re the one who lost sight and found us. You’re the one who heard us out.
YOUNG WOMAN: Yes, but I don’t want this. I want to leave.
PRIDE: You came to us. I’m afraid you can’t leave unscarred.
YOUNG WOMAN: Please, can’t you just point me the way out? I’m not supposed to be here. ANGER: You came here yourself, lady! Don’t you dare go begging for a way out unless you’re ready to pay the price.
SLOTH: Just lay here for a while. I’ll show you how to get out.
YOUNG WOMAN: No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.
SLOTH: Yet I’m the only one who so much as offered you a way out. I thought my offer was generous. But I’ll make it even better. I’ll let you go with just a taste of that light. Nothing more. I’ll let you keep it. No one else will do that. LUST: No, you’ve got it all wrong. I would come to any agreement that so fits the desires of our beautiful friend. [she caresses Young Woman’s cheek] Tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you just how to get it. YOUNG WOMAN: [pulls away from Lust] I told you, I just want to leave. That’s it. That’s all I want. ANGER: Then stop whining and do something about it! You keep saying you want to leave, but all you’re doing is standing there, letting us surround you.
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ENVY: [mockingly] Maybe she likes it here. Maybe she likes us. Likes having all this attention. I can’t say I blame her. YOUNG WOMAN: No! That’s not it. I didn’t want to find you. I didn’t even know you were here, I just, goodness gracious, I just… I ended up here. GREED: Just ended up here, huh? Lucky you. But everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it? Might as well make the most of it while you can. YOUNG WOMAN: [looks around the room almost frantically] None of you are going to help me, are you? PRIDE: Help you? You don’t need help. You just need me. Help can’t save you, but understanding just might. And I happen to understand your potential. Your greatness. Come with me. Let me show you how to use that light. GLUTTONY: Why’s it always about potential with you? She doesn’t need to think so hard. A bite, a sip, a taste—that’s all you need. Indulge, live a little. That’s all it takes to ease that ache inside. You do ache, don’t you? You’re hungry for something, aren’t you? YOUNG WOMAN: No! I’m not hungry, I’m not tired, and I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do with my light! I just want to leave. Can’t you see that? SLOTH: [sighing] You keep saying that, yet here you still are. Still standing right there. [points to her from her position on the floor] You’re going any- where, are you? And if you keep letting us talk to you, you never will. But that’s okay. You don’t have to go anywhere. You could stay here with me— LUST: [interrupting] With us. You could stay right here. Just have a seat. [sits on the couch and pats the spot next to her] It’s safer this way. YOUNG WOMAN: [shaking head] No, that’s not true. You’re tempting me. You want to be my friend—or at least pretend. You want me to trust you.
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SLOTH: Isn’t trust what anyone wants?
YOUNG WOMAN: I-I don’t know anymore. Why are you doing this to me?
ANGER: Don’t think you’re so special! You came to us whether you like it or not. We weren’t waiting for you. We wait for whoever comes our way. This time it was you. Don’t blame us for seeking your attention when you’re the one who first considered giving it! You’re just like the others. ENVY: And like the others, you’ll give in. They always do. You’re really not special. GREED: Maybe, then, we’ll give you an out, but you have to give us something first. That’s the way it works. We help you if you help us.
LUST: Don’t you know you keep us alive? We couldn’t live without you.
GLUTTONY: We’d starve. You wouldn’t ask us to starve, would you? A smart girl like you wouldn’t hurt anyone. YOUNG WOMAN: [eyes fixated on the ground] I don’t want this. I don’t want any of you. PRIDE: You don’t have to look at us to listen, and you haven’t had the heart to stop that yet, have you? I don’t think you’ve got it in you. You’re still listening. I think you want what we have to offer, don’t you? We can help you, make you better than ever. GREED: The truth is, you don’t need that light. You think you’re supposed to carry it around, but it doesn’t do you any good, and it never will. PRIDE: [nodding in agreement as he rests a hand on Greed’s shoulder] Truly. That light could be beautiful, but you are perfect without it. You’re better than it. You really don’t need it. Who told you you did? Don’t you know your own value?
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ENVY: I’d be glad to take it off your hands. It’s clear it isn’t doing you any favors. YOUNG WOMAN: You can’t possibly say that. You know nothing of my light, and you don’t know what’s best for me. You’re nothing but a bunch of liars and cowards. [lifts light higher, near face] This light was given to me by someone greater than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m supposed to keep it and protect it, not waste it in pitiful pursuits and games.
ANGER: Don’t mock us!
GLUTTONY: We know all about who gave it to you, and we know he wants you to think that light is special, but it isn’t worth a thing. Just some extra weight and less room for indulgence. YOUNG WOMAN: [more confidently] I know that isn’t true. Because if it meant nothing, you wouldn’t want it. I don’t know why, but you all crave this light. You seek to take it from me, and that means something even if I don’t know what. ENVY: You meddle in forces an average girl like you can’t possibly under- stand. [points an accusatory finger at Young Woman] You need to be put in your place. What makes you think you’re better than us? Better than me? You don’t understand any of this.
YOUNG WOMAN: Understand? No. Maybe not. But I think I can control it.
SLOTH: Not if you keep listening to us.
YOUNG WOMAN: [burning with resolve] I won’t listen anymore! You want this light because it represents something you can’t have—something you can’t control. You want to steal it from me because it’s pure and that terrifies you!
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[The light suddenly burns brighter and all the sins are repelled back by it. They hide their faces from its brightness as they physically step away from her] YOUNG WOMAN: I knew it. You don’t want to help me or my light. You hate it! You want to put it out. Tell me I’m wrong. LUST: [blocking eyes from the brightness] You’ve made a mistake, darling. That light is nothing but an illusion. It has no real beauty. Not like you. Not like us. GREED: [snarling] We’ve seen it all, girl. You’re nothing but a fleeting star in the dark. Where will you be when that light burns out? YOUNG WOMAN: It won’t burn out. Not as long as I feed it. I’m not letting any of you snuff it out with your lies. I’m through listening to you. I know my own value; I know my own worth, and I won’t let you fill my head with your ideas. You fear this light and fear me with it. You have no power over me. Be gone! [ YOUNG WOMAN raises her light above her head as all the sins are once more repelled. The light burns brighter and brighter as the sins retreat to the far edg- es of the stage. After a beat, the room goes dark except for the light still burning above the Young Woman’s head.]
YOUNG WOMAN: I know exactly what I’m supposed to do—feed the flame.
CURTAIN
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Unwrap the Magic
Carol Infante
Presents are wonderful to receive, whether they are Christmas presents, birthday presents, or even no-reason presents. The one present, though, that stands out in my memory is a necklace with a pendant with my dad’s picture framed. For me, that one memorable present is more about who gave it to me, my spouse. The reason I was given a necklace with my dad’s picture framed is because he is no longer alive. It also symbolized the bond and memories we shared. It made me feel loved and appreciated. First, it is magical to unwrap an unexpected gift from my thoughtful spouse. The first reason the necklace is valuable to me is because of the person who gifted to me: Jeffry Infante, my amazing spouse. Also, he is so special to me because we shared memories for nineteen years. In addi- tion to that, his gestures make me feel valued and cherished. For example, I mentioned to him I wanted to reconsider pursuing a career. We spoke about the pros and cons. He encouraged me to continue my education.
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Finally, Jeffry and I have shared nineteen years together. He is also the father of my children. Secondly, unwrapping this present was very meaningful to me because it was sentimental at the same time. The reason my pendent with my dad’s frame is important to me is because he was murdered twenty-six years ago. My spouse gifted me the necklace because he wants me to cherish the memories I shared with my dad. Also, it is his way of expressing his feelings towards me. In addition to that, he knows it is a traumatizing event in my life that I will never grow out of. It is a gorgeous gold necklace, and it came with a custom picture of my dad, along with two angels on the side, which represent a powerful symbol of love, remembrance, and a spiritual connection. Lastly, receiving such a meaningful present for Christmas gives me com- fort when I feel lonely, anxious, and scared. For example, I am able to fiddle with the pendent and I feel some source of comfort. It is almost like having him present at all times. It also brings me joy because even though he is not physically present, I am able to wear the necklace any- time making me feel protected. Every time I look at the pendent and I am going through hard situations, all that comes through my mind is all the memories we were able to share, and that I would forever remember. Overall, unwrapping the magic in one single present, like the one I received for Christmas, can be very sentimental. Last year, my spouse gifted me a valuable necklace with a pendant that holds deep meaning. It is something I will forever be grateful for as it is just not a material gift. In addition to that, he is also letting me know that he cares about such moments of my life; his thoughtful gestures not only reinforce our bond, but also make apparent his love and care for my feelings.
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Money Is Wonderfully Evil
Emily Weidner
I have no money.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do. I’m elite, elite as one can be, but what am I without money? I can’t bear the thought.
“This is no good,” I think aloud. “Money is everything!”
I slump back on my velvet couch that probably cost more than an average person’s yearly salary and roll out a dramatic sigh. “No money? No respect!” I exclaim like a dramatic opera is about to unfold.
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But this is no opera. This is my life, and I am hopelessly poor. Common as a speck of sand in the desert. What am I to do with myself? All my money gone before my eyes. The people will hate me. All those times I ignored their pleas for help and donations, and now I’m the one who needs them. Ugh, what atrocities! No. Wait… I can make this work. A movement—yes. The people love some- thing to throw their support behind. I’m not poor at all—no—I’m reform- ing this wicked country, freed from the grasp of consumerism. Oh—that’s good. I can work with this. Money is the root of all evil, after all, and I am a glorified survivor. A savior among men. Oh, goodness, this is brilliance ! I shall remodel the future landscape of our world. I’m not the god they asked for, but am I ever the one they need. I let my head drape over the back of my sofa as my eyes meet the ornate chandelier overhead. I’m reminded of all the balls at which I’d so woefully bragged about this same fixture. I needed to save myself if it meant I could brag again. Lying can’t be all that bad if it can save my reputation. I’d say it sounds like a very good thing indeed.
***
“Oh, beautiful and endearing people, it is with great horror I admit the error of my ways.” The back of my hand instinctively moves to my fore - head. “For money is the root of destruction and the seed of our downfall!” My peacock feather-lined cape drags the ground as my arms gesture wider still. The masses line my luxurious gardens, which will soon fall to ruin despite it all. They take uneasy glances at one another. How dare they doubt the sincerity of my actions!
“Money is a vile spirit!” I declare, leaving no room for doubt. “I urge you,
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my loyal people, to take heed to my word. Humble and gracious as I am, I would never lift a finger to harm you. “Look around you!” I continue. “What is wealth if not a gilded spirit confin - ing us all in a cycle of greed and envy?” My sapphire rings sparkle in the sunlight. What beauty money can provide—no. I must unfortunately stay focused. “I stand before you today as a mere servant of the people—an advocate for mankind!” I lift my hands to the air as I leave my words to weigh down on them.
Silence.
My hands falter. They doubt me, still! This won’t do.
A young woman in the front with brows deeply furrowed rests her hands on her hips before she dares to raise a hand. “But aren’t you still living in that mansion?” Her hand gestures past me to my rolling estate beyond. ‘Tis all I have left, but no man should know this. Or woman for that matter. “Ah, dear lady!” I respond with a flourish. “That is merely a relic of my former life. I have transcended materialism, just as I urge all of you. It stands as a reminder of a life I dared to waste. Let no man fall prey to the folly of wealth.” The crowd murmurs, a whisper of uncertainty filtering through their ranks—more doubt. An unbearably indistinct man steps forward without any particular grace about him. “But if you’re so against wealth as you say, why do you bother yourself with such triflingly lavish outerwear?” I wave a dismissive hand before I truly know what to say. Let not words yet fail me. “What is beauty without purpose?” I gesture towards my finery
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and the excellency that is my appearance. “This is but a reminder of the burdens we must cast off.” The crowd murmurs. It matters little what they say. I can feel my influence growing. “Let us cast aside the chains of consumerism and step hand and hand into a new era! Together we shall embrace the pleasure of simplicity. Cast aside that which you hold too dear, so it should not corrupt us all. “I once betrothed myself to such lavish meals as caviar and truffles; now I stand before you and offer bread to break as a symbol of our shared hu - manity. It shall be our sacred sustenance as we face the war of wealth. Let us throw down our golden burdens and share in the joys of nothingness!” The masses whisper amongst themselves—words I don’t bother hearing. I bring my hand to my forehead as I await what words will come, pitiful as they might be.
Coins.
Golden coins fall from the sky, launched by the hands of the subjects it was all too easy to persuade. They listen, they obey, and they throw their wealth…directly at me.
Right at me!
In a moment of glorious clarity, I realize I have unwittingly found a new source of wealth. They break the bread before my eyes as the golden circles find my hands. Poor I once was. Poor I never again shall be.
I—the wealthy leader of the poor.
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