Just Around the Corner

By: Gemma Shay

It's coming. I can feel it in the air, the chill of the frost that will soon cover the rigid soil.

It's coming. I can see the warm fog of my breath that lingers like a dream, but is soon conquered by the arctic cold.

It's coming. I can see the iciness clinging to the crunchy, dying grass like a leech slowly sapping everything that lives.

It's coming. In my mind I can picture the eerie, dreamlike quality of the white silence it brings.

It's coming. I can almost taste the delicious hot chocolate and the puffy marshmallows like icebergs in a boiling sea.

It's coming. I can sense every bit of its approach, The icy, dark, yet somehow strangely wonderful, winter.



Knaves Backstage

By: Amelia French

The creak of those floorboards the ones we know to dodge by tech week knaves backstage sneaking, searching to chase, run, poke, prod performing an intricate dance till scolded now we sit eyes glued to our scripts obediently searching for our cue. backs rigid and upright, knees stuck together guilty expressions disguised as ambivalence three souls spring up shocked by the change of scene whispers were tearing their eyes from the script edging their way, stealthily on stage thieves attempt to blend to be unseen did the choreographer notice? one of the actors a stickler of sorts smirks as the eyes of a superior race.