The Literary Magazine 2019 "Voice & Choice"

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FALSE PORTRAYALS POEM ANONYMOUS From childhood dumb deeds are done From childhood all I ever thought of was to have fun My family was perfection Mom, Dad, Sisters, Brothers all I got was affection Someone in the family not like the rest All I know, she is still blessed During college diagnosed with a mental condition Family fell with tears and commotion At the time not aware, triggering my emotions My immature brain at the time What I did to her now feels like a crime I would annoy and make fun I didn’t understand, what have I done? As adolescence comes, I learn more about schizophrenia A doctor educating it through forms of hypermedia Go learn about schizophrenia on Wikipedia Really, this is how they are portrayed in the media? They are violent and scary These false portrayals, illness is arbitrary She is ordinary People think the exact contrary Think, write, sing, conversate, laugh She can all do I bet what she can do, you can never outdo People with mental illness have a voice Illness is not received by choice Books, internet, movies are never very accurate I love her Educate before you assume
A VOICE SHORT STORY FINN CARPENTER “Get your hands off of me you fools,” Silfur commanded, “I’ve done nothin‘ wrong! Unhand me!” “You know what you did,” the burlier guard snarled, half dragging, half pulling Silfur down the corridor. “Where am I being led? What is going on here? You have no right to do this!” Silfur continued. “We have every right,” responded the other, bearded, lean guard, “You were seen denouncing the faith. The high council will have none of that!” Silfur’s yells bounced down the corridor and back silencing him as he was hauled further towards the stairs. The torchlight illuminated the bruises and scars on his face that had been awarded to him after the troop of guards had beat him senseless. Along the corridor, between the torches, were doors after doors, all with large iron locks adorning them. At the end, just outlined in the flickering darkness, were a set of stairs leading downward. The guards of the faith dragged Silfur down the steps, his legs knocking on each one with a painful thump. Silfur stayed silent, now looking closely at the walls, ceiling, steps, and floor, twisting in all directions to gain any sense of direction or location. “What do you think you’re doin’?” the larger guard asked Silfur, “Tryin to think up an escape plan?” the thin guard mocked, “Good luck. No one’s escaped from the capital fortress, ever. And you’re going to high security.” Both guards started to laugh, dragging Silfur down to the bottom of the steps, where there was a strange underground cliff with what looked like a pulley system. The cliff looked out over a pitch black cave made of rock. Silfur could not see the bottom as they threw him onto a feeble wooden platform that creaked as he curled into a ball. Via a pulley system, the platform, with Silfur on it, was pulled out over the cavern until the cliff was no longer visible. In fact, nothing was visible except the cords of the pulleys and a single tower carved of rock with a peak the size of a large table. It hung- there for what seemed like an age, then it dropped. Silfur fell to the rock with a pitiful thump, sprawling onto the cool stone, then curling up again. All this, just for one speech Silfur thought to himself, almost seeing the crowd below him in the darkness. Silfur looked out at the silence, and, partially just to have some sound, began to recite the words that he had practised for weeks upon weeks. He saw, below the rock, the faces of the people staring up at him, silent. Over and over he gave his speech, pacing in the little space he had so that the whole crowd could see him. Echoing off the rock, echoing back and forth, echoing into Silfur's brain. Silfur continued to repeat, time after time, day after day, speech after speech. He heard it coming back to him, the speech, echoing back through the chasm. Not just his own voice this time, but another. Silfur looked up at the solitary cords, suspended above his stage to see the flimsy wooden platform, loaded with the days meal, ricketing its way towards him. “Is that all you say?” the voice echoed from the far-off cliff, “the same speech every day?” Silfur went silent for the first time in months, the echoes mulling over him in waves.
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Page 3 and 4: POEM 100 YEARS ADA SZYSZKO Born in
Page 5 and 6: VOICE OF CHOICE POEM ANONYMOUS Fier
Page 7 and 8: The dragon watched. He watched but
Page 9: “Ah, you plan to reside nearby an
Page 13 and 14: Another guard rushed through the do
Page 15 and 16: Pillars were supporting a cavern hi
Page 17 and 18: UNTITLED POEM ANONYMOUS In a farawa
Page 19 and 20: Kira groans again, throwing the pen
Page 21 and 22: Iris groans. “Come on, Kira. Don
Page 23 and 24: THE SHIP THAT SAILS FOREVER SHORT S
Page 25 and 26: “Samira, report to plank replacem
Page 27: She slipped and skidded partway int

The Literary Magazine 2019 "Voice & Choice"

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