... Fioretti Fioretti A Literary Anthology Volume 50, Number 2 1991-1992 Marian College Indianapolis, Indiana STAFF EDITORS\Jennifer Miller, Claudia Struewing PRODUCTION EDITORS\Michelle Fletcher, Noelle Gasco, l1ichelle Gobin ADVISOR\Sr. Stella Gampfer, D.S.F. Artistic Design COVER\Marianne Mitchell PHOTO\Sr. Stella Gampfer, D.S.F. NOTE:This year marks the Fioretti's golden anniversary. We appreciate all the contributions we have received especially our cover design and the uAdversarial" poem by former students Marianne Mitchell and her sister Joan Peternel. We also welcome new submissions for our next edition. Special thanks to Larry and Joe for th e ir help. CONTENTS OH SIMPLE SAINT/ Noelle Gasco 4 MIRACLE OF .LIFE/ Pamela Webb 7 ADVERSARIAU Joan Peternel 21 VENDING MACHINES/ Seymour Pane 22 BID ADIEU/ Michelle Gobin 29 UNTITLED/ Kurt Cleeter 29 A MOMENT OF A WAKENING/ John P. Zielinski 31 PAINT/ Diana Hultquist 36 MAN IN THE MIRROR! Karen Murphy 43 THE LETTER! Michelle Fletcher 44 THE CHAMBER! Noelle Gasco 55 NOVN Kristine Abel 57 OBSERVATIONS BY THE STUDY FIRE/ Nicola Rossi 62 Fioretti o SIMPLE SAINT Still he kneels patiently poised bearing a cross of heavy stone like beliefs he kept though not fast followed. His father held the doubt black doubt, that order tried to confine, shut out, his sanity of madness. His mother saw she sympathized, yet never understood just why he gave his life away to don a robe waistbound with rope. But rope he cast as line of hope into a sea of poor that they should drown no more in sorrow class created. Rose, sweet rose its thorn did shed by God's command scar not the man whose faith held fast named Francis. 4 Fioretti Like rose red temptation shed, outward cast his social class, riches borne unto him, so to lead life simply. Yet those who scorned his life did mourn upon his quiet passing, the room he died in placed inside a richly colored church. -And now near roses statue stands, bird nest in hands, for only nature sweet nature shall truly understand. Noelle Gas.co 6 ~iore"i THE MIRACLE OF LIFE Pamela A. Webb It must have been October seventh . no, it was October eighth. Yes, that was the day--the day my whole world fell apart. The morning began normally enough. My sadistic alarm clock went off at 6:30 a.m. I, of course, hit the off button as I usually do and fell back into dreamland. Fifteen minutes later, my mother, who knew me too well, yelled up the stairs, UBeth, it's 6:45! You're going to be late!" So out of bed I jumped and into the shower. The water felt like bullets on my body. I decided I needed to stop studying for French tests until 1:00 a.m. After my shower, while getting dressed, I looked out my window to the spectacular panoramic view of the mountains. I loved living in Colorado, especially in the autumn and winter. As I was putting on my black ankle length boots, I appraised my 7 Fioretti image in the mirror. The long black sweater over red and black checkered stirrup pants looked pretty good, I decided. I then applied makeup and put my blown-dry hair in hot rollers. My cat Blackbird strolled into the room and jumped onto my unmade bed. Aptly n amed, Blackbird, with her blueblack fur and yellow eyes, made a stark contrast with my ivory bedspread and sheets. Although red and bl ack were my f avorite colors, I couldn't bring myself to decorate my room like a bordello, hence, the ivory and mauve decor. After taking out the hot rollers and brushing my hair, I headed downstairs for my bagel with cream cheese and cranberry juice breakfast. Then I looked at my watch. Nope, no time for breakfast. I knew I'd have a battle with Mom over it, so I walked into the kitchen and said, uMom, it's too late for me to eat breakfast. If we don't leave right now, we'll both be late!" Mom turned around and . smiled. She always' seemed to smile while in the kitchen, her pride and joy. The room was bright and cheery, . painted yellow and white with yellow eyelet 8 Fioretti curtains and white table and chairs. Mom had even dragged Sunny, her little canary, into the kitchen so he could watch. Now , you know how I feel about breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day," Mom admonished. "C'mon, Mom," I moaned as I pulled my jean jacket on. We need to leave." "We aren't going anywhere until you eat this," said Mom as she put two eggs, a piece of toast, and three sausage links on the table. She'd already put the cranberry juice at my place. I sighed heavily and sat down. When I had forced down one egg, the toast, and the juice I stood up and practically shouted, "Let's go!" "O.K., but you don't need to raise your voice to me." Mom got up an put on her coat. On the way to school Mom told me about my eldest brother Steve's recent letter. "And Steve broke up with Carol last week." Mom waited for my response to that bit II II 9 Fioretti of information. When she didn't get one, she went on, "Steve said that Dr..e w should be sending you a letter soon." Both my older brothers Drew and Steve went to the University of Colorado. Drew was my idol and one of my best friends. I treasured every letter I received from him. After a few more attempts at conversation, Mom stopped trying. Soon we arrived at my high school. I opened the door and got out. Mom said, "Bye, honey. I'll see you at 3:401 Have a nice day." I muttered a terse "Bye" and slammed the door. Watching Mom drive off, I regretted my obnoxious behavior. Then, I just shrugged and thought. that I would apologize later. Little did I know how much later. The day wore on normally enough. I really enjoyed most of the classes my junior year. Chemistry was good--I found out that I had gotten a 100% on the last test. Algebra was the same . sorry story it always was ... being completely lost for fifty minutes. Next came psychology.. I really enjoyed that class. However, about halfway through, I received a message to go to the office immediately. I showed it to Michelle, my best friend, who sat next to m e. She didn't understand any better than I did why I would get called to the office since 10 Fioretti I only got in trouble for talking, a minor offense. I arrived at the office and instantly knew something was very wrong when I saw Drew and Steve. Both had horrified looks on their faces. nWhat's going on? What's happened?n I squeaked nOh, Beth .. "Drew began as he took me into his arms. nWhat?!" I shrieked. nBeth, on Morn's way to work, she ran a stop sign and was hit by a truck. She was killed instantly." I just looked at him. nBeth, do you understand what I'm saying? Morn is dead!" Realization finally sank in and I cried, nNo! No! Oh no .. " With that, I went into shock. Hours later I found myself on the sofa in our living room. I couldn't figure out why Dad, Steve, and Drew were all looking at me. Then, I saw Grandma LaRosa, Morn's mother. Suddenly, it hit me--Mom was dead! I began crying and Grandma rushed over to me. nOh, Beth. You poor thing! Oh, why, God? Why didn't you take me instead?" Grandma wailed as she hugged me. 11 Fioretti --No, I thought, --God should have taken me. Those next three days were horrible. The showing at the funeral home lasted for two days. I never realized so many people knew my mother. People kept coming up to me and telling me how sorry they were, or they would ask if they could do anything to help . I wanted to day that I didn't mean to make Mom late that morning, that I didn't mean to kill her. But I kept silent. The funeral was short. My Dad wanted me to get up and read the poem "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep," so I did. I amazed myself by not crying at all. Actually, I only cried when I saw Drew crying. I think my guilt overrode my sadness at the time. And I guess I figured that if I just shut everything out, nothing could ever hurt me again. I didn't know then, but I suffered much worse later by not grieving openly. Since the funeral was on Thursday, I waited until the following Monday to return to school. Michelle came up to me at my locker and gave me a big hug. She had come to the funeral home and funeral, but I barely talked ' to her. I barely talked to anyone. "I'm so glad you're back! How are 12 Fwran you?" Michelle inquired. "Fine. I gotta go. I'm going to be late," I muttered as I hurried off. I glanced back, and Michelle had a hurt look on her face--well, better to hurt her now than kill her later, I thought. My teachers told me to just take my time in making up things I had missed. I readily agreed. As the weeks went by, however, they began to approach me in a less than gentle manner and warned me that my grades were falling. Most were so surprised at first, I guess, because I had always been in the top ten in my class. Finally, they just gave up on me and wrote down zeros for assignments missed. I always came to school and took the tests, and these scores saved me from totally flunking that semester. I usually never needed to study much for tests to get A's. I was just lucky that way. Besides blowing off my school work, I also ignored my family and friends. Drew and Steve went back to college. I went back to school but they both called a lot, and Drew came home every weekend. I knew it was for me that Drew made the effort, but I treated him badly. The only two living 13 Fioretti things I paid any great amount of attention to were Blackbird and Sunny. Of all my friends, only Michelle stood beside me, though I never let her get close. Then the Christmas holidays were upon us. Deck the halls, silent nights, and Santa Claus. It seemed as if every time I saw a twinkling light or heard a Christmas song, I wanted to throw up. I used to love the season; Mom would turn our house into a IIChristmas town," complete with the tree and trimmings, candles all around, presents (and the cat) under the tree, and happiness everywhere. That year, however, the Christmas tree seemed cheap and gaudy. No other decorations adorned our once cheerful home. At dinner that night, everyone tried to pretend things were normal. Grandma cooked spaghetti, our traditional Christmas Eve dinner. ' I knew she was trying to make us and herself feel better, but I wished Grandma had made anything else ' than spaghetti. IIGreat meal, Mom," Dad exclaimed. , IIActually it tastes just like ... " As Dad's sentence drifted off, all eyes looked at me. Any mention of Mom was not good in my presence. My whole family thought I was like a time 'bomh---ticking, ticking--ju.stwaiting to explode. They were right. 14 Fioretti UJust like Mom's. Is that what you were going to say?" My voice rose an octave with each word. Drew looked at me uneasily. UTake it easy, Beth. Dad didn't mean anything." Of the rest of my family, I knew my new attitude hit Drew hardest. Yet I couldn't seem to stop myself from taking my anger out on the one person who could've helped me most. U1Take it easy, Beth.'"I mimicked. UYou all act like nothing is wrong. First, Grandma makes Mom's spaghetti. Then, we all play Ihappy family.' Well, I have news for you: we are not a happy family. In fact without Mom, we aren't even a family!" with that, I stomped to my room. After I'd entered the only place I could be alone and shut the door, I was sorry for what I'd said. I knew I was making their lives miserable. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. Maybe I had known all along. Just then, Steve barged into my room. UBethany Ariel Grayson, you are so incredibly insensitive and selfish. You can't go on acting like this. Get on with your life. Mom is dead, but your alive." UAm I?" I whispered, so soft that 15 Fioretti Steve couldn't hear. uGh, what's the use? Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall." He then fumed out of the room. Two hours later my family left for Midnight Mass without me. I had made it clear that I wasn't going. I needed to end this pain, end this grief. And the only way I knew was to end my life. I first went to Dad's medicine cabinet and downed practically a whole bottle of sleeping pills. I had taken a sleeping pill once before, and it made me dizzy. I knew this time I wouldn't be dizzy .. I'd be dead. While I was waiting to die, I wrote a note to Drew. I wrote: 16 Fioretti Dear Drew, I'm only doing this because I can't cope with life. If it hadn't been for me, Morn never would have died. You didn't know that, did you? I made Morn late for work, and that's why she ran the stop sign. I can't stand the guilt any longer. I do love you and everyone else, but I can't go on living when I don't love myself. I drowsily made my way to Drew's room, dropped the note on his bed, and then went back to my room and fell asleep. The first thing I remember after going to sleep was seeing myself floating above my inert f~rm on the bed. I began to rise and to go through the ceiling, attic, and finally through the roof. I knew I should be cold since it was snowing, but the only feeling I had was a weightless sensation. I continued to drift upward until I was far above the clouds and even the stars. Finally, I reached a massive stone gate with marble doors. I was wondering if I could budge the doors even an inch when they noiselessly opened. I floated through the doorway and found myself in a seemingly endless hall. I began to see pictures on the walls as I floated, scenes from my life, from my birth to that Christmas Eve. 17 Fioretti At the end of the hall came the end of the images. Two more doors loomed in front of me. They too, noiselessly opened. As I drifted through this doorway, I heard someone calling my name, "Beth, Beth!" in a beautiful, almost lyrical, voice. I could not believe my eyes and ears! The voice belonged to my mother! "Morn, is that really you?! I asked incredulously. "Yes, my darling. I ' ve missed you so!" Morn took me into her arms, arms I could fee l much to my surprise, and hugged me fiercely to her. Then, she held me at arm's length. "Beth, much as I want to be with you, I must send you back. You're too young and your life is just waiting to be lived!" "Oh, no! I can't go back! I deserve to die. I killed you and made everyone's life so miserable. It's all my fault! How can you ever forgive me?" I sobbed. "Beth, oh, Beth! There is nothing to forgive. It's true you did get up late, but you do that almost every day. I made you eat breakfast. And more importantly, I ran the stop sign . . I made that choice, no one else. The only person you are responsible for is you. I was careless, not you . " She paused to le~ her words sink in and then went on, "Beth, I love you and because I love you, I'm begging you to please choose life. It's the most precious gift God has given you." IIAnd the most precious gift you've given 18 Fioretti me, Mom. Twice now, you've given me life," I whispered. II Remember , Beth, I'll always be with you, in your heart and thoughts. After all, you are part of me--the best part." III love you, Mom!" I said as I began to drift away. IIGoodbye!" IINo, my heart," I heard Mom answer. IINo good-byes. Only until we meet again." IIShe's coming back to us!" Those were the first words I heard on Christmas morning. Around me stood the people I loved most--Dad, Grandma, Drew, Steve, and Michelle. I also knew that Mom was there silently cheering me for choosing to live. Nine years have passed since the death of my mother. So many things have happened. I quickly recovered from my suicide attempt with the help of a psychologist, my family, my loyal friend Michelle, and God. I managed to pull my grades up and graduated sixth in my class. I want on to college to major in psychology, specializing in child and teenage depression. While in graduate school, I met Kevin Alexander, the man I later married. I also began working in the adolescent stress center at St. Anthony, the same hospital in which I recovered. My wedding day came. Kevin, my nervous bridegroom, awaited me at the altar. The fresh April breeze filtered in through the stained glass windows of the church. Soon, the wedding 19 Fioretti march began and the proud father escorted me, the equally proud daughter, to my place with Kevin. "Who gives this bride away?" inquired Father Jim. "I do, answered my dad. And to me, he whispered, "We both do." While the readings of the wedding were being read, I glanced over to where Morn would have been sitting. An then I realized that Morn was there and always would be with me in my heart, just as she said so long ago. My next thoughts went back to that Christmas Eve, and I knew that what happened was truly a miracle . the miracle of life. 20 Fioretti ADVERSARIAL In an opposition of some kind. That's where poetry can happen. Between slime and sublimity, between a howl and a hosanna . A peom may be two armies met upon a bridge. Competing for anothr breath, one side is marked for death . Or two dancers waltzing round a ballroom floor. His mightier muscles and her finer feet cooperate. I ' m trying, Reader, to survive your liveliest artillery. You try remembering one leads and one must follow . Joan Peternel 21 Fioretti VENDING MACHINES KNOW ALL ... Seymour Pane When I was 15 and just entering my sophomore year of high school, or, to put it in the vocabulary of an educator, just past Julius Caesar, but not quite advanced to Hamlet, the most interesting experience of my life, to this point anyway, occurred. Having the voice cracks and preliminary acne of puberty well out of the way, the wonderful world of lust began its descent into my, otherwise sinless, world. (Please, allow me to insert now that I use the usinless" in the most liberal sense.) I knew this because the simplest of tasks became impossible to execute without it being interrupted with the idea that the girl who sat next to me in Algebra might have meant something more than just polite socializing when she smiled at me the day before. To casually flip through the Sears Catalog without it eventually falling open to the lingerie section was soon a difficult exercise in self control. In fact, I was even prone to find that such comic strip greats as Blondie, 22 Fioretti Sally Forth and any female character in Doonesbury did not go without their individual attributes; however, I could not find many qualities in Nancy that would interest an adolescent male. Alas, all of these stunning beauties, and there are a great many more I could mention, are not . the reason for this story. I tell of them, not to allow you a view into the hormone ridden mind of a 15 year old; rather, I share their existence with you simply because they will be mentioned throughout the following paragraphs; although, they will be so cleverly disguised that not even the most perceptive of readers could root them out. With the summer's end coming at full speed, I was filled with the usual symptoms of school withdrawal. I was almost excited to return to the mysterious realm of the classroom; however, I did not share this fact with even the closest of friends, who probably felt the same way. There was another feeling, though I have experienced it many times since then, and I puzzled over why I felt that way. The preceding summer months had 23 Fioretti had a similar agenda to all of the summers before: I had my usual lawnmowing job. I had gone on my usual vacation with the family, that year (it was 1986) we had gone to Michigan. I had spent hours of mind melting time in front of the television. It seemed that there should be no reason for that empty feeling to arise. After days of reflection it seemed that there was going to be no way of relieving this feeling, I had compromised myself to the fact that I was just going to have to live with it. Then something happened the next day. While I was busy taking my overflowing trashcan from my room to the dumpster outside of our apartment building, I happened upon a notebook lying just outside the entrance-way to our building. It seemed to be, aside from a large coffee stain on the cover, in very good shape. I took it back inside with me, and after replacing my trashcan, began to thumb through it. It was filled with numbers and incomprehensible facts and figures. I tried to make out what it was the numbers and variables and such represented with little luck. I was 24 Fioretti beginning to think that this was not such a great find when I turned to the next page and found that it was completely uncontaminated by numbers. Instead I saw that it contained an excerpt from a poem. It read as follows: Think about love, but do not dwell. Vending machines know all, when it comes to being used. And below the poem was written: Susan .. 2658408. The latter was scribbled, almost illegibly, in pencil. I stared at the page for at least twenty minutes. I tried to concentrate on the poem, but my eyes inevitably returned to the name and phone number. "What if this notebook is important?" I thought. I decided it must be, mainly because I was anxious to call the phone number. I went into the living room and dialed the number. As I waited for an answer I practiced deepening my voice, so I could sound more mature. I thought I was doing a very authentic job of it when I realized it was on about the s~venth ring, and there was still no answer. I was reluctantly about to hang up when I heard someone pick up on the other end. "Hello," an out-of-breath voice said. It sounded more like a proclamation than a greeting. "Uh .. yes," I babbled, my mature voice 25 Fioretti all but forgotten. UIs this Susan?" UYes it is." She sounded like someone who had either just rushed through the door with an armload of groceries, or fought off a recent attack of wild dogs singlehandedly. I favored the latter. uHello, my name is Terry Northern. I know that you have no idea who I am, but I found a notebook outside my apartment building, and your name and this phone number were in it, and I was wondering if it maybe belonged to you, or a friend of yours, maybe?" UA what? You found a what?" Her tone was bordering on belligerent. UA notebook. I found a notebook .. uh, with your name and number in it." UA notebook?" uYes, outside of my apartment building." UWhat's your name, again?" Her belligerent tone was fading into one of idle curiosity. I was becoming more relaxed, and realized that I had forgotten to deepen my voice. Deciding that it was now a lost cause to feign maturity, I attempted to be myself. UTerry Northern." uOh, U she said. UWhat's inside of it?" uWell, mostly a lot of numbers and fig- 26 Fioretti ures and stuff, but on the page that I found your name and stuff on, there's a poem." "A poem? What's it say?" I recited the poem to her, and was amused to find that I did not even have to look at the page to do so. I had apparently memorized it. When I had finished reciting it there were a few moments of silence on the other end. I finally broke it by asking if she was still there. "Yeah, yeah. I am. I was just trying to think of who that could belong to. I'm sure it's not mine." "Oh ... well, I don't know. I mean, I just found it lying outside, like I say. Do ya' want me to bring it to ya'?" "I don't know what I'd do with it." "Well, I mean, I thought it might be important or something. I don't know." "Well, I just don't know what I'd do with it." "Maybe, if you saw it, or something you might recognize whose it is." I said this last part with a little too much enthusiasm, but you see, dear reader, I was by now in love with the faceless Susan. I wanted, with all of my heart, to meet her. "I don't know ... I really don't care too much. Tell you what kid, why doncha' just go ahead and throw it away. I don't know whose 27 Fioretti it is, and I'm . uh ... usually out. You know with my work and all. I was on my way out the door when you called as a matter of fact. So, you may as well just go on and throw it out, or whatever, I don't really care." flWell ... It might be important. I mean, I don't know what all these numbers mean." flThen I can guarantee that I don't know what they mean. Look, I really don't care what you do with it." flWell, if maybe you just tell me your address," I pleaded, flI could corne by and leave it off." fiNo, I don't think that that would be such a good idea. Why don't you just throw it out or something, I really don't care. I gotta go anyway. Sorry. 'Bye." flWait ... " I called out to an audible click as she replaced her receiver. I recradled my receiver, and I returned my gaze to the notebook. I reread the poem and the name of the woman I loved, and then I closed the cover. I was taking it to my room to put it into safe keeping when I took a detour. I went outside and threw it into the dumpster. I ran back into the house crying. I went to my room and stayed there the remainder of the day, and evening; I even missed supper. Thus was the end of, what will always be, the most fulfilling summer of my life. 28 Fioretti Bid adieu to mere reality Realms of delusion fill your soul Fear occupies the darkened crevice Pain's arrived and taken its toll Fairy tales came back to haunt you Told in a dark and grisly mode Prince Charming sent a poison apple Now you are the ugly toad. Michelle Gobin The search for food and adventure, Being what it was, Drove the ring-tailed animal, To the edge of the woods. From this cool and shady spot, And across a narrow gravel trail, Was a place never before seen, And much more appealing than here. 29 Fioretti From this place considered as home, And across that gravel trail, without a second thought, Began the journey from here to there. Eyes and nose in downward slant, with nothing to be feared, No mortal enemy is in sight, No sound is heard except the growl in his belly. Suddenly from where the bandit does not know, C~es a metal monster with flames as eyes, Such a creature had never he seen, Floating like a phantom on the ground. Closer and closer. Nearer and nearer. With the screech of a thousand eagles, And the dust of a storm, Its hot breath was felt, Before it came to a halt. Staring for a moment, But no harm had occurred, Time is being wasted, To that woods he must go. Kurt Cleeter 30 Fioretti In the Style of J.R.R. TOLKIEN In Honor and Memory of the lOOth Anniver sary of his Birth (1892-1973) A MOMENT OF AWAKENING John P. Zielinski The fog rolled over the morning like the stench of a hundred nameless corpses. What went wrong ... ? Just three days ago the fellowship of the sword was a confident band, although admittedly a bizarre cacophony of heroes, brigands, and common folk. We had set out, I Elaura, and my free spirited, yet determined group of adventurers a fortnight ago. A band of three races traveling the countryside in these dark times must have seemed odd enough to those we encountered, but with a woman in command bearing the standard of the kings of old, my companions and I must have appeared as strange as a beardless wizard without a walking staff. 31 Fioretti The wars, the mistrust, the destruction, what had become of the peace and prosperity of the kingdom of old ... ? Our guest was of Either we succeed and rightful keeper or the destroyed. Only I and a few lore truly understood prophecy: the utmost importance. return the sword to its whole of Eldamar will be scholars of the ancient the implications of the When Harmonia in the house of Cronus abides; peace and prosperity will be kept as a prize! Of course, the fellowship was a last resort. When the infliction began to plague every aspect of Eldamarian society, each race chose to deal with the menace independently, rather than implore the help of another ilk. The Dwarves shut themselves in the mines of their mountain dwellings. The Elves chose to fight openly, and the humans, as our race is apt to do, chose both paths of courage, as well as folly. However, none of the three had anything but minor success, and a last desperate gamble for redemption, faith was placed in an ancient prophecy that few believed in. A fellowship was formed united in determination and purpose in nothing else. 32 Fioretti My grands ire of old Cronus, during the first age of the sun, destroyed Malice, the Lord of hats and fear, an evil demon of the Seventh Circle, generation upon generations ago. This accomplished through an alliance of Good. The races of human, elf, and dwarf had once lived in peace and harmony and together they forged and placed their combined powers into a sword, which they named Harmonia in the Westron tongue. Through the power of this sword, Cronus was able to overcome the evil of Malice, slay his corporal self, and banish his spirit into the void. Peace and prosperity carne to Eldamar for an uncounted passing of the seasons. Then the spirit of the Lord of hat returned and by his tricks of malevolence caused the races to be prideful and bigotry was introduced to E Idamar . In the mayhem the sword was stolen. A pestilence entered the land. Crops decayed, animals died, and lamentation was heard throughout the three kingdoms as the curse of the stillborn inflicted pain and sorrow on man, elf, and dwarf alike. These proud races sent the bravest, or maybe the most foolhardy, I don't know anymore, of their people to comprise an alliance of the races of Eldamar; a 33 Fioretti fellowship to retrieve the sword Harmonia. What has become of us now ... ? As I stare at the battlefield this very morn, only carnage and sorrow lay before me. We were only a breath and a whisper from triumph. With victory in our grasp, a shadow carne across the land and the sun turned to blood as it faded into night. From over the ridge, an army like flies eager to lick at a puss-filled sore swarmed upon us. Trolls, orcs, and goblins, riding creatures I had only seen in my darkest nightmares were engaging us in battle faster than the winged horses of the Fireside Vale. We were only six score, but my companions fought like 500 knights of the Royal Guard. Only the fog and the light which carne with morning saved those of us who remained. The hordes of evil lay dead on the plain. Their blood spilled and mixed with our companions who had fought and died bravely, and who will surely be remembered in song for many moons. I Elaura of the house of Cronus, a woman mightier in lead and lore than in battle; Balamir the dwarf, s low in wit but swift with axe; and Evening Star the elf, 34 Fioretti the EI ven king' s squire are all of the fellowship that survived the battle. It is now up to the three of us, on individual for each race of Eldamar, to succeed in stealth and wit where a host had failed in might. here we stand at a moment of destiny for the entire world, finally realizing that only by working together through cooperation; by recognizing the powers and benefits that each race has to contribute; only by making whole again what the evil one divided in perception into three parts, do we strand a chance against the forces of discord. Here we stand, in harmony, at a moment of awakening! 35 Fioretti PAINT Diana Hultquist At eighteen, Elizabeth was pretty and popular and bored with the small town where she lived. Parkersville seemed to her to be plain and brownly ugly with the buildings looking too much alike. This place where everyone knew everyone else had always been her home. When she started kindergarten, she already knew her classmates, and the teacher had gone to kindergarten with her mother. In the fifth grade, when she won the spelling bee, practically the entire town went with her to the next stage of the contest in neighboring Huntsville. In the tenth grade, geometry was beyond her comprehension. It was during this time that she was pulled over by the sheriff while driving downtown. The sheriff was only George, whom she had known since her birth, but it was still embarrassing to have the flashing lights of his car behind her while he moseyed up to her window. IISO, young lady, how.' s geometry going by now? If it's not getting any clearer to you, we'll have to find you a good tutor." Living in this town was like living with a huge, loving, but smothering family. Maybe that was all right. Maybe they were 36 Fioretti like the were and they couldn't change. But the way the town looked--she could change that. Parkersville itself needed some brightness and color to its buildings and streets. If she were going to stay here, either she or it would have to change. Elizabeth liked herself the way she was, so the drabness of the town had to change. At 2 a.m. on June 2nd, she filled her car with buckets of brilliant paints. She had green , yellow, blue, and red. She brought paint rollers with pans and brushes of different sizes and even a little stepladder. Using the green first, with a roller she encircled the outside walls of the fire station with two feet of flowing green grass. Next carne the daisies. Some sterns were three feet high and some were taller than seven. At the top of each stern were five or six large yellow petals. With an extension pole and a short roller, she continued with light blue clouds. The fire house had never looked so good, with those bright yellow giant daisies, spaced irregularly around the walls. A few butterflies, birds, and some more clouds and she was through. As she loaded her equipment and thought of how to improve the library, her two gallon can of yellow toppled out of the car. The clang and clatter of the can rent the air. As it rolled along the walk toward the door to the fire station, its lid popped off and yellow paint splattered in all directions. It gave the entrance a 37 Fioretti unique cheeriness. The fire dog's barks added to the uproar. He dutifully alerted the sleeping firemen, who with the speed firemen are known for, ran through the yellow paint chasing her. uElizabeth! It's Elizabeth! What the hell is she doing? What the hell has she done?" They knew it was her. She had to leave now. She left her friends and family and everything she owned, except her car and her paint. She decided to keep going and call her parents when she arrived wherever it was that she stopped. All Elizabeth could think about was that she had almost been caught. What would have happened if she had been? What worse than being alone in a big, unfamiliar city? She hadn't slept yet, so she pulled into a motel that looked affordable. uThat'll be $40 for the night. Be out by 11." The man had gray, oily hair, and his stomach, which was covered with a blue t-shirt, hung out over his belt. He didn't even look at her as he reached out to take the money. Elizabeth was sure Harry and Martha charged half that for a night at their unflashy 38 Fioretti white and red cottages at the edge of Parkersville. Inside the motel room was a bed with a grayish-green spread, gray carpet and brown peeling walls. Worse than Parkersville. She fell asleep on top of the green bed spread. It might be cleaner than between the sheets. Eleven o'clock came with a sharp knock on the door. "I'm just about to leave. I need to grab my things." She had nothing to grab, but splashed cold water on her face, swished out her sleepy mouth and wished she had awakened early enough for a real shower. Out in the car, she thought about where she would go. Small town--big city, drab buildings--bright lights, over-protective people--people who didn't care. She pulled into St. Paul a little after noon. She drove through the downtown area, looking for a place to have lunch before finding somewhere to spend the night. She turned right toward a flashing sign that said "Eat here." Only after she had turned, did she notice it was a one-way street going the other direction. The only thing she could think to do was to pull up on the sidewalk. "You idiot, lady!" "Get your stupid car out of 39 Fioretti here!" The comments from those unfriendly pedestrians would have been enough, but a city policeman pulled up alongside her. He checked her driver's license. "I don't know how you people drive in Parkersville, ma'am, but in St. Paul we don't drive on our sidewalks." He gave her a ticket and pointed her to a parking garage where she parked the car. She needed to stop, since she came with only the clothes she had been wearing last night and her several buckets of paint, but where were the stores? "On the edge of town-in every direction, on each edge of town. Our really good stored are in the malls." She got directions from the young mother, to the mall that was closest. On her way ' back to where she had parked her car, she felt a sudden, quick and slightly painful jerk on her arm. A boy who looked about fourteen had the strap of her shoulder bag and was running in the opposite direction from what she had been walking. Elizabeth stumbled in awkward running steps backwards. She had never learned any selfdefense tactics, but the scream that came from her mouth was just as effective. Her offender let go so quickly that Elizabeth stumbled, fell forward face down on the street with the contents of the purse 40 Fioretti scattered everywhere. Two others walked on by with only a sideways glance. Elizabeth got up, got herself and her purse together and determined to get back to her car and to go to the mall. The mall was more familiar than the city streets, and she hoped it was also a little safer. She had been here a few times with her family, and once with some friends. It was fun being alone in this expansive place, where no one knew who she was, or cared. The feeling of enjoyment ended when it was time to pay for the sweaters she had gathered in an elegant department store. III'm sorry, I can't accept your check without more identification. Don't you have a credit card?1I No, she didn't, and she wasn't charging these things, she was paying by check. More I.D. She couldn't satisfy them. She didn't have enough to prove who she was, and nobody knew her. III have slept on a dirty bed, gotten a traffic ticket, been assaulted by a teenager, and now you won't take my money. This is enough. I'm going home." o III'm sorry, ma'am. It's just 41 Fioretti our store policy." On her way back to Parkersville, she began to wonder why she really had left, and she began to make plans for her next escape to the big city. Now she understood some of the differences between the plain, friendly town and the flashy big city. She felt an appreciation for the one and a respect for the other. She would be prepared next time with a packed suitcase, at l east one credit card, and maybe a friend for moral support and fo r someone who knew who she was . 42 Fioretti MAN IN THE MIRROR The worn haggard man Stooped low Dirty cardboard at his feet; One pocket of his jeans Ripped off, A darker patch revealed-Once new .. Cars stopped near him Light red; Motors running, radios playing. He stands The motors die, the radios stop, His eyes look straight ahead Far away .. Away from laughing windshields, From pity's rear-view mirror Someplace Where men will work for justice For peace and common decency. Not here ... Where men uwill work for food." Karen Murpby 43 Fioretti THE LETTER Michelle Fletcher CHARACTERS: Stacey ~ 18 year old college bound student, has just received college acceptance off of waiting list. Ron Stacey's athletic boyfriend, he is planning on going to the Community College. Jen - Stacey's energetic best friend. Has also been wai t listed, but hasn ' t been accepted yet. Doesn't want to go to CC, but is. SETTING: A small bedroom. Several articles, including a stereo, cluttered desk and bulletin board, cosmetic table, yearbook and telephone denotes that a female teenager inhabits the room. A footlocker wi th the tags still on it si ts at the foot of the bed. The scene opens with Stacey sitting on her bed, holding pillow, and Ron standing by desk reading letter. Ron: So you got in. stacey: Yes! I was really surprised. People on the waiting list usually don't. I think it was the second batch of articles that convinced them I was worth taking. Guess I got lucky. Ron: So you're going. 44 Fioretti stacey: I suppose so. (Stacey, uncomfortable, stands and walks away from Ron, Jen bursts in, bright and bubbly) Jen: STACEY! (she lunges toward Stacey and gives her a bear hug) I came over as quick I could! I am so happy for you! State is such a great place! I am soo jealous! Ron: She hasn't decided for sure that she's going yet. Jen: WHAT! Last night you said that Christian Slater himself could move in next door and you'd still go away to school if you got that letter. stacey: I know, but I ... (Ron interrupts) (Stacey starts sorting and trashing papers on desk) ' Ron: I don't understand why you think State is so great Jen. Jen: Why? WHY? You've lived in this town for 18 years and you don't see why State is so great? Ron: There's nothing wrong with this place. Jen: Ron, I thought you had a brain! (Stacey, startled by Jen's comment, turns to look at them) There are more people at State then there are in Jones County! With an opportunity like Stace has, why would she want to stay? stacey: Well I do like .... (Ron interrupts) Ron: Because all of her friends are here. 45 Fioretti Jen: There are 50,000 students at State! I'm sure she's bound to get along with one of them! Ron: Yeah, but she doesn't know anyone there now. Jen: She didn't know any of us when she got here. stacey: Only you ..... (Ron interrupts) Ron: She just met us three years ago. Why should she start over again? Jen: (matter of factly): Death is dwelling on the past or staying in one place too long. stacey: I think we should ..... (Jen interrupts) Jen: Besides, there's more for her at State. Ron: Like what? Jen: For starters, there are 25,000 eligible guys. There are dance clubs. There are theaters that show more than Terminator 2. Plus, it's the best journalism school in the country. with her talent, that's the only place that will be a challenge for her. Ron: Why are you in such a rush to 46 Fioretti get rid of her? stacey: Ron! Ron: Is it because you' re not going t his year? ( Jen b i tes lip and looks up) stacey: That's not fair ! Ron: But it's true. Does Corn Co l have a club for State Wanna Be's? Makes you wish that you'd studied more and played less, doesn't it? stacey: That was low. Jen: Don't we all wish we had studied a little more and played a little less? Didn't State need another wrestler? Maybe CC has a bowling club you can join to keep in shape. Ron: There were thirty of us to fill three spots. Besides, if I stay here, I can work for my dad and learn the business. Plus, I still help out at Footlights. Jen: ( sarcastically enthusiastic): Great Ron ! So "Mitchell Shoe Emporium" will go on. Plus, as an added bonus, you can still hang out at the community theatre you've been with since you were seven. Gosh, you're big on advancement. Ron: Is it such a bad thing to WANT to stay here? Jen: It is when it's a cop-out. 47 Fioretti Ron: Meaning ... Jen: Meaning that if you'd put forth more effort in things, you could have gotten in on academics or acting. Meaning that you could have aspirations like I do to transfer in a few semesters. Meaning you should move forward! Ron: I don't want to move anywhere anymore. And I don't think Stacey should either, not by herself at least. State's not a safe place for a small town girl. stacey: Would the two of you please ... (Jen interrupts) Jen: Yeah, you're right. It's not safe for Stacey on a Friday night when you're not around. The - place is crawling with good-looking INTELLIGENT and TALENTED guys ready to pounce on girls like Stace. Ron: No. I just don't see why anyone would go tc a place that has its own date-rape hotline and keys to the elevators. Jen: You just don't see why your built-in date is leaving you. You know, the freshman mixer at the Union will have more people between 18 and 20 at it than you've ever seen in your life and half of them will be male. stacey: You guys had better .... (Ron interrupts) Ron: (to Stacey): I don't understand why you just can't go to Com Col like we are. It's small, it's got good classes and we would see each other every day. 48 Fioretti Jen: (sarcastically): Oh peachy! (ignores her) :There's no need for security guards to walk you around at night. Plus, you can still live here and have your morn do your laundry. Ron: Jen: You're so homebound. You talked a little higher last year. What ever happened to applying to the University of Hawaii? I thought the girls in the grass skirts had you hooked! stacey: (smiling): That was the one where we could have rented the grass hut together, wasn't it? Jen: Yep. Weren't you the one that suggested we all go to Miami U together? stacey: We could have lived on the ocean or something,right? Jen: Now you want us all to give up like you have. There's an article for you Stace - UDefeated Wrestler Wants Friends to Sacrifice Lives So That He Won't Eat Lunch Alone at Corn Col". Ron: (calmly, ignoring their remarks): My morn and dad have talked about this forever. We all decided that I should stay here. So I am. And the more I think about it, the more I see that there's no reason for you or Stacey to leave here. (phone rings, Stacey answers it, Jen and Ron ignore her) 49 Fioretti Jen: You just don't want her to go because she'll forget you. Six hours round trip is a long way to drive just to see a movie with you. Ron: Our relationship is stable. If she decides to go, we'll manage to keep in touch. Jen: Yeah, until the next Peter Jennings sweeps her off her feet .... Ron: She won't forget me. She might forget you though, since you won't be her roommate. stacey: Jen, it's George. Do want to go out tonight? Jen: (not answering to Stacey, but replying in an unbelievable tone to Ron): Sure, whatever, Ron. Dream on! Any large jock with Greek letters tattooed on his chest could replace you. Besides, her roommate could never replace me. (arrogantly) I'm irreplaceable. stacey: Is a 7:30 movie ok? Ron: (not answering Stacey, but rebutting Jen): Yeah, sure-(being boldly dramatic) JEN THE IRREPLACEABLE. Remember how Stace told you that you replaced Jill since they never talked after the move? Do you think Stace is actually going to have time to write when she gets new friends? Jen: Remember how you replaced Darren? stacey: I dumped Darren because he was a 50 Fioretti jerk, not because I moved. Now why don't we all go . . .. (Ron interrupts) Ron: I just think it's dumb that she has to leave a perfectly good place to go be a number. Jen: Cope. Ron: Why are you so set on her going? Jen: Because she'll be happier. Ron: Stace, tell your friend here that you're happy. stacey: Well, I . (Ron interrupts) Ron: How can a person be happy at a place where along with your class schedule they hand out complimentary cans of mace? (Stacey returns to desk and sorts) Jen: Ron, a girl can only drive by the DQ and yell IIHey Bob!" so many times before watching everybody look gets old. There are only so many salt shakers in town you can loosen. Only so many light bulbs you can swipe from restaurants. Only so many times you can cruise thru Burger King asking for water refills in a McDonald's cup. What else does this town offer? Ron: Well, um .. there's always the phone prank (in radio announcer's voice) IIHi I'm Biff from Baskin Robbins and if you cali name 31 flavors in 31 seconds I'll ,give you 31 dollars and 31 cerits~ Now go!" Jen: Yes, that's kept you amused for hours, hasn " t it? ' 51 Fioretti stacey: will the two of you please .... (Ron interrupts) Ron: Well if this town is so lame, why aren't gone? stacey: Ron! Jen: If I could, I would. But I can't this year. So I'm sending my best friend. Ron: Sending? Jen: Supporting her in her endeavors, which is more than what you're doing. stacey: WILL YOU TWO PLEASE STOP IT! I've got two months left to listen to both of you the movie starts in a half hour and we still have to pick up George . Jen: Who? stacey: (smiling): Your date, George. Jen: (repulsed) George of the computer club? George the tuba player? George bound for Tech on a Rocket Science scholarship? When did I make a date with him? stacey: He called somewhere between Mom doing my laundry and JEN THE IRREPLACEABLE. Jen: (sarcastically) Thanks so much. Ron: (mockingly): At least he's INTELLIGENT AND TALENTED. Jen: Yeah, in collecting bottle caps and belly button lint. 52 Fioretti stacey: Imagine the guys I can set you up with when you corne to visit! Jen: (sarcastically): I can ' t wait. Ron: So you're going. stacey: Yes. I am going to the movies, George included. Ron: I mean going. You're really set State, aren't you? stacey: Yes. Can we talk about this later? Jen: I don't think there's much to say. You're going and we're not. stacey: Look, it's getting late. I promise I won't forget EITHER of you. Now can we PLEASE go pick up George? Ron: I don't feel much like a movie. (h ands Stacey the acceptance letter & leaves) Jen: If you think I'm going out with George, you're nuts. And don't get too hyped on playing matchmaker, OK? Oh and tell George I'm sorry to cancel, but that my big toenail chipped and I'm laid up for weeks or something, PLEASE? (Stacey nods) Thanks! (stops at doorway) I'll call you tomorrow. stacey: Yeah-I'll talk to you tomorrow. (Jen leaves) There's always tomorrow with you. until September. (Sits on bed, hugging pillow and holding letter) 53 Fioretti (pause) phone, dials) George? Stacey. Jen and Ron both canceled, but if you're still up for the movie, I can pick you up in ten minutes. (pause) Great. What? (pause) Ohthanks - I was really surprised when I got the letter. (pause) Well, don't spread it around, but I can't wait to go. All the people, the classes, everything (pause) Yeah, but we'll still be able to come home to visit everyone. (pause) Have you started shopping yet? (pause) Oh, you got your loft already? (pause) No, I haven't even started pricing anything yet. (pause) Yeah, I know time sure does fly in the summer. (pause) Target has fridges on sale? My mom got a trunk today at K-Mart on her way home from work- she was so excited when I called her - (pause) I think they're $15. (pause) No, I don't know if I'm bringing the TV or she is. (pause) We'll have to compare lists of essentials! (pause) OK - I'll be over in a bit. Stacey thumbtacks letter to bulletin board, grabs purse and keys and leaves, turning light switch off as she exits. 54 Fioretti THE CHAMBER I remember nights Lonely in the chamber of my heart, Upstairs The ceiling slants as i f an attic holding memories; my bed, my dreams From just one window I could live enough of the world and feel nature's growth Summer branches turned transparent vivid green then colored with age most brilliant red At the height of winter, from this second floor, my world was whitened, yet window touched by only chickadees Then trees tapped glass to show me their buds, my wakening alarm, the proud 55 Fioretti wren's reminder At dusk starry skies carried gossip of unseen cows and squirrels glanced in curious on their way home Now my world's beyond pastures and apple tree blossoms, No gentle breeze lulls me to sleep My chamber seems much Emptier now belonging and caring for none, for which none care The layers of dust, faint walls count the years in absence it's waited to become someone's world Noelle Gasco 56 Fioretti NOVA Kristine Abel I remember how Robert had seemed so confident when he picked me up that night. I can still picture him in my mind, sitting back in his blue Nova smoking a cigarette. It too k him a minute to notice me because I was hiding in the shadow of the house. Slowly, he reached over and unlocked the door for me. ns o what did you tell your mother? Did you tell her what I told you to?" he asked. We drove on for a few minutes in silence. When we were out of the neighborhood and in unfamiliar territory, I finally asked him what his big surprise was all about. JJJust wait, babe," he said, JJYou'11 love it." The wind blew hard against her shoulders, and the torrents of rain flogged her, forcing her to hide her face against the storm. She had been standing outside the door for a long while. She felt the baby kick inside her. After what seemed an eternity, Molly went inside. The woman at the front desk asked her to fill out some papers. It reminded her of the papers her mother had to fill out at the welfare place. Marital status--single. age-20. Father's name--blank. She now under- 57 Fioretti stood what caused the painful look on her mother's face. She finished the papers, sat down to wait, and remembered. The motel he brought me to was about to fall apart. From the car I could see a man walking around the room, smoking a cigar and drinking something out of a bottle. I could hear a woman in the background yelling something vulgar. The neon sign was starting to give me a headache, flashing on and off, on and off. Robert kept talking. "Shit, Molly, we always do the same thing when we go out. I pick you up, take you out, and then I gotta have you home in time so you don't turn into a damn pumpkin." He kept fidgeting with his cigarette pack, wanting me to say something. "For once, I ' d like to be able to spend some time alone with you without being on a clock. We can just relax here, that's all." Then he got out of the car, slammed the door and walked toward the room. When the woman returned, Molly gathered her bag and followed her down the long hallway. The dimly lit room she showed Molly to reminded her of one of those doll houses you'd see with just a bed and chair for furniture. The bed was covered by a small afghan, probably made 58 Fioretti and donated by someone from her parish. The lady told Molly that she could go to the kitchen in a while and have the cook prepare her some dinner. Robert opened the door and let me walk in first . The black-and-white television set stood in front of the bed, and it made me t h ink of my fifth-grade teacher, Sister Clare--how she would stand in front of our class with her hands on her hips , waiting for one of us to misbehave. Robert turned on the television . II I Never Promised You A Rose Garden" was on. He reached over and squeezed my hand, giving me a big, smug smile. He got up and went over to the table to get the ashtray. The cook crossed th e room and set the plate in front of Molly. She was a talke r , "SO how far a sking all sorts of questions. along are you?" she asked. When Molly told her she was eight months, she dropped the spoon she was drying and turned to her in amazement. "For being eight months, honey, . you shore are small. Here, eat some more." She scooped the casserole onto her plate. "Eat it, girl. You don't want to starve that kid, now do you?" Molly choked down the last few bites and the cook lit up a cigarette as she went on cleaning and speaking about the old days. 59 fll'Wamrt. a S!lIl(})~e'? r.t he o1E1Eee:ired.. [lIJ.odded no alIild jnst sat 'tblueree s 'tta:ir.fumg at itJh e ,t ,. V J1te )peered out ,tt'he cmrttai.:n as Jlire tocik a lh.i-tt. ofT DS cigarettce ll t.hEllil he put i t omt. .ilIil the aslhtray and sat ]baclk dowJIil 'IlleeKtt. ':to mre on the bed; close enol11~lll ,t ma'l t I c'O>uJl.d sme1.Jl. tlhee ashes on. his stin,. J[ dept 1.00kJllIilg (a t the it .. WI . hut I comldi :feel h.im sitarilIll9 at me.. Elis eye'S werre pEllilee'tt.rat,i ng ID.W skin, jp](1oli>imlg my very essellilce\Ul_iLIHdI. .me cc:]Lo'Sce ito lhl.is jface~ :[ [celt. l.iJke (eiI. mo@se throwilil. JllIiitO a slIia~e's cc:a~ e ~ JI lel it alIil empit.y fear rf a JEe ,aur !tlhat. It.lm(e l[\e was nco> :escape~ lIilO way co> c~ If:lIle start.ced iteo SJIilJLCc k cer ~ Balb);e tf "" Jhe sa JLd 1 j ms it. re1ax .idi 'f OM lhear :me? u t lhe c (o)'olk qe':mltly s honk .!Molly' 5 shoulder lEeer ID.amYds \Were c ilemcheen aJlilli she Jh:adm'it beem paYlRil[J amy atitem'tt.Jl(Q)lIil to ithe old w-amaJlil I's ,iram1O:l.l)Iilg'S .. ~I'!' o:m sbore Iileed ito re2ax rt g.irl.ice ,. Here{t sip some 'Of this .. I.f Slhe lilandled Ho,l ,l y a JIDlJlg of somet.lhilIilltj itllilrait smelled li~e cOTTeee ll yeet itas-lte-a. jl.i~e )pnre slmgJaJr ,. 'The warmtb of .it s)pread th.rolTlglholJl'tt lliler :11
O Criador:
Marian University
Tipo:
Book