Quarter 2 of the 2020-2021 School Year For this school year, Eclipse has taken a different approach in releasing publications.
We are excited to share our second publication of this school year, something we have never done years prior. The hybrid of online and in-person school has allowed us to reach out to people and gather even more submissions to share with you. -- Hinna Parwez, Co-President As we embark onto our second semester, our challenges haven't changed — but our will to face them hasn't either. We hope that these submissions continue to brighten, inspire, and embolden you to carve out meaning where there seems to be none. Beauty can always be found, whether it's summoned by a camera, a paintbrush, or the choices we make. — Phyllis Feng, Co-President
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Creator - Sophia Wang The silence stifles me, endless as the darkness above.
The moon shifts away from the window panes leaving blurry edges on objects that were once so familiar. Shadows dance hauntingly across my wheelchair in the corner. The Barbie princess doll that I fell in love with on a trip years ago, morphs into a monster that preys on my worst fears. She creeps in slowly, almost without notice. Attempting to find the solace of sleep, which seems as if it were a peaceful kingdom, far, far away, I nearly miss the tapping of her heels on the hollow wood. After tossing and turning for a few more minutes, I give up and stare at my ceiling. The patterns on there always varied between fireworks and faces for me. Tonight, they are spiderwebs, ready for me to catch me in their trap. Hi, Stella. Her voice, intrinsically powerful, resonates to my very bones. I stare at her with a glazed fear, chained to my bed. We’ve never met before. But I know it will be a pleasure to get to know you. She leers at me, and I instinctively shrink away. Don’t be scared of me, Stella. I just want to be friends with you. I exhale slowly, trying to get my bearings. The room spins rapidly -- pictures of my first soccer game transform into puddles of blood and crashing metal. “Hi.” I couldn’t see her clearly while I lay in my bed, but I could sense that she was anchored by my feet. Why don’t I help you out there? She snares my feet and yanks, causing a burning sensation to go up my body. I was used to it, of course, but tonight it permeates my nerves with a cruel intensity. “What’s your name?” I ask, my voice tiny and fragile in the air, drifting away in wisps. I don’t really have one. Wanna help me out in picking one? I study her closely, trying to pick out certain characteristics that would pinpoint a name. “What do you like doing?” Not much. But whatever I do, I do it to the extreme. Like once, I went cliff diving in Hawaii with my other friend. The locals told us not to, that the rip currents were too much for even the most experienced. Once we smacked into the water, I started chatting with her. The waves drowned her and she kind of went cuckoo. She tilts her head with the guile of a predator and shrugs nonchalantly. She ended up dead. I reel away in shock, trying to get away from her fiery grip. For that split second, I forget I had no use of my legs. While I suppress a scream, an idea hits me. “I’ll name you Betty, then.” A simple, pure name for a terrifying, powerful demon and I choke the fear down. Betty. She smacks her lips together and puckers them. I love it. So innocent. What do you think of my look? A baby pink cardigan rests on her shoulders, with a turquoise skirt. Betty bats her eyelashes at me, and I thinly veil my disgust. “I love it.” I spit out, and grip my blankets harder. Let’s talk! She caps her lipstick and plops it into a diamond studded handbag that appears to have materialized at her side. Why is your door open? I flick my eyes towards said door. “I didn’t even realize that.” Lifting my covers, I pull myself out of the warm bed, only to crash onto the cool floor. Betty sympathetically looks down at me and coos. You forgot again, didn’t you? A tear slips out and plops onto the cherry wood. I touch it with my finger tip and study how it bounces and returns to its original shape when I tap it harder, seemingly refusing to break. I pulverize it, causing it to splatter out. Finally shattering. “Yes, I forgot.” I abruptly force out, lifting myself up on my forearms. How’s your sister doing? Betty examines her cuticles, blatantly refusing to help me. Thalia. She spends hours in her room, throwing glass objects at my mom when she attempts to coax her out. We gave up yesterday. “Thalia’s just fine, thank you.” I grunt, and grasp the blankets on the bed futilely. Instead, the entirety of it falls to the ground, and me with it. “Ahh!” I scream, an ear piercing sound. No need to be so loud, Stella dear. Betty snatches the Barbie I stared at not so long ago. She moves the legs of the plastic doll and taunts me with it. You’re being ridiculous. “Go away.” I whisper, clutching my hair. What was that? “Go. Away.” I repeat, glaring at her. Are you telling me to go away? When you can’t even go to the bathroom by yourself? Betty cackles, throwing her head up with a snap. Oh, silly, silly, silly Stella. “GO AWAY!” I roar, pushing myself onto the bed. Tears cover my field of vision as I thrash the blankets over and over again, simultaneously, images appear of Thalia babbling “silly, silly, silly Stella” as a toddler, my mother asking me if I wanted to come see my teammates at their championship soccer tournament, and the Barbie donning a pair of pink sparkly heels singing “everything’s fantastic when you’re made of plastic.” The images spin throughout the room, encouraging Betty’s maniacal laughter. I hurl the Barbie at Betty, fueled by the anger flowing through me. Betty disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only the lipstick in the exact same shade as the Barbie’s locked smile. Her voice sings distantly; hauntingly. Everything’s fantastic when you’re made of plastic. Creator - Hex Hogan Melatonin and longing
A distorted image of a plaid comforter Christmas music plays, lonely ambience December reaches out its frostbit fingers and a shiver shoots down my spine The cold cradles me in it’s arms, whispering into my ear all the little things I should’ve forgotten Memories instead are wrapped up like a present and placed snugly under the tree “Just a little longer” reads the tag Just a little longer A note from the author: The December cold mixed with the stifling loneliness of the pandemic this year has lead me to a more reflective and inherently destructive state of mind. Trying to move on seems impossible when all you have are your own echoing thoughts dissolving into the cold air. |
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