Literary Magazine draftD (editable version) - The Sacred Heart ...

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Alice by Kelly Burchell-Reyes IIIB Have you ever heard her call you? Her whisper tickling your ears, her yearning driving you to insanity? Have you ever sensed her presence, near, but oh, so far away? I have felt it. When I walk down the fifth floor hallway on my own, when I step into the chapel, when I explore a new area of the school, I feel it. That is how I met Alice. Who is Alice, you ask? A more accurate question would be, what is Alice? She never told me her name; I learned it from the stories they tell. When I first met her, I thought that she was just another student. Her hair was brown and pin-straight, falling to her shoulders. Her eyes, hidden behind large, oval glasses, were a deep black, like a bottomless well of tar. I was in my second year. I was in the chapel, early for Tuesday morning Mass. The wooden floorboards creaked eerily under my footsteps, sounding my arrival. The air was warm and peaceful, the way it always is. I made my way to the front, to wait for everyone else, when I saw her. Kneeling in front of the altar like an ancient sacrifice waiting for the priestess’ knife. As serene as an angel, garbed in an outmoded school uniform. As I approached her, she abruptly looked up, as though alarmed by my presence. She fled, and I followed. Across the sanctuary, through the sacristy, up a flight of stairs, and another. Into an old attic, covered in a layer of grime and dust, screaming of neglect. But it was not the filth of the attic which startled me most. It was the eerie presence. On the floor lay hundreds of candles, lowly burning away to pools of melted wax. Alice sat, and beckoned for me to join her. Frightened as I was, I could not help but join her on the sludge floor, compelled. She took both my hands in hers, and closed her eyes. I followed suit. A flood of images inundated my sight, blocking out all other senses. A girl in this very attic. Stabbed with an ornate knife. Years and years ago. A girl left here, forgotten. Alice. Only remembered days later, found by hazard, her murder never avenged, her curse, her final wish, left unfinished, stained forever like her seeping blood on the wooden floor. Revenge, vengeance, the death of her killer. A face. A different, new one. Another young girl. The face of Alice’s killer. Wavy auburn hair framing a thin face. Powder masking the freckles on her cheek. Unmistakeable green eyes. The same emerald sheen as my own. My mother. The visions became faster, more urgent. Vicious, sweet revenge. Blood everywhere. Gore, red, death. The smell of death filled the air. Suddenly, the visions ceased. A stinging pain was embedded in my stomach, along with an ornate knife. The same one used to kill Alice. Blood flooded the room. The world turns black. Signal Flares by Norah Woodcock IVC your heart is a fire and your body’s a sea and it’s a war inside, a storm – the currents twist around and around, flushing out the flames. and the fire is extinguished, inevitably didn’t we know all along that it couldn’t be escaped? and deep in the ocean, it’s dark. I knew when you smiled it wouldn’t take long before you’d draw me into your depths, and I’d swim, swim while the fire shuddered and dwindled. the waves have pulsed and pulled and pounded I tried to pray but wound up choking, and you watched from above and I knew then that I had lost. water beats fire as rock beats paper as scissors beat paper and paper beats rock; maybe this is, maybe this is just a game. you cried for me but it made no difference just like when you fought, fought against it, you were too weak but weren’t we both weak? and I may have cried for you, if it mattered the tears got lost in the salty water, and I wondered did that many girls cry for you? would you rather die burning or drowning? I gathered the last of my strength, and let myself sink towards the feeble light that remained. your heart is a fire, but your body’s a sea and of course it wasn’t enough, we were never enough you floated; I drowned. so tell me which is worse, my fate or yours? to be lost in cold darkness, or endlessly drift along above? it was for pride, never for love. by Lisa-Marie Giorgio IVB 36 37 by Lauren Maruya-Li VB & Victoria Sarker VC
A Secret by Thea Koper VC I wish I’d never told you Out behind the yard that day. For in that moment clear and true, I’d voiced all I had to say. But you went and snatched my heart away, With not a care in the world. And on that chilled October’s day, Stole my trust with all you heard. Friends will come and friends will go, But a secret’s a secret, no matter how small. With your smiling face and radiant glow, You’ll sweetly push me and watch as I fall. How long must I wait here, All alone in the cold? Watching you break near And laugh as I grow old. But the lock is fastened tight And I hold the key, Making you the master of your plight, And far from free. by Kayla Cabanas IVC Caroline Chamandy IVA Adrianna Mauchan IVC Rachel Rubbo IVC had it good before she veered off the straight and narrow. always chose the monster over us, her own kids. What she realize was that the monster was part of us too. I don’t my mother, but I don’t care to hate her. Kristina by Katherine Chamandy VA 38 39 by Angelina Smolynec VC She didn’t love enough
Page 1 and 2: Cover Art by Kylie Sura VB Sacred H
Page 3 and 4: straight from the heart of the Edit
Page 5 and 6: y Emma Pallay VA Love Just Is by El
Page 7 and 8: you to do this. Her Majesty the Que
Page 9 and 10: y Kayla Cabanas IVC A Few Shades of
Page 11 and 12: I am on the edge of the world. Wher
Page 13 and 14: The Boy by Norah Woodcock IVC There
Page 15 and 16: Eyelashes by Anon The day you went
Page 17 and 18: And I cry for you because I am not
Page 19: Reality vs Illusion by Jessica Abre
Page 23 and 24: Marks On the Wall by Katherine Cham
Page 25 and 26: Murder On Simpson Street by Alessia
Page 27 and 28: Time Ticks for No One by Katricia D
Page 29 and 30: L’égarement de Norah Woodcock IV

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