TReview uscarora

39th Edition 20 19

A Frederick Community Magazine of the Creative Arts

 Sarah Harding , power- painting
TReview uscarora
3 9t h E d it ion 2019
A Frederick Community Magazine of the Creative Arts
 MESSAGE FROM THE EDITOR
F rederick Community College is filled with many talented people. Some put
words onto a piece of paper to create beautiful poems and stories. Others
capture life the way it truly is on canvas or a roll of film. In this 39th edition of
theTuscarora Review, we have collected a large amount of amazing pieces of
literature and art from the students and faculty who walk these very halls
with you. We wanted to use this magazine as a platform to exemplify the
great artists and writers who submitted their works and also inspire more to
submit their pieces for next year’s magazine.
When we first received this year’s submissions we were excited to find a
large collection of diverse pieces spanning many different genres and styles.
For the first time in a long time we were presented with individuals who
submitted plays and creative non-fiction and found interesting new ways of
telling their stories. Though we could not include every submission we
received, we feel that in this edition of the Tuscarora Review we have com-
piled the pieces that best represent the talent and creativity our community
has to offer and we hope you feel the same way. That is not all this magazine
represents; it also represents the
immense amount of time and dedication provided by many amazing people.
On that note, we would like to acknowledge the key
Micheal Don , Mother- Pastel

MISSION STATEMENT
The mission of the Frederick Community College magazine of the creative
arts, the Tuscarora Review, is to provide an annual showcase for the
outstanding literary and visual art created by the Collge community.
Submiission infromation for the 2020 edition is available at:
www.frederick.edu/tuscarorareview
individuals who put a lot of hard work into making this edition the best it
could be. We thank Professor Jones for his guidance and advice on putting
the magazine together and editing the selected submissions; Lisa Sheirer
and her students for designing the layout and cover; Cheryl Peterson for
production; and our fellow editors, Bryce Kelley and Kat Reyes, for helping
us review each piece with close attention to detail. Lastly, we want to thank
everybody who submitted content for this year’s edition. Without you none of
this would have been possible.
With this year now behind us, we look forward to passing the torch to the
next editorial board. For next year’s edition, we have added two new
elements. The first is that we are now officially including a “creative non-fic-
tion” category for submissions; we want to hear your stories told by you. The
second is that we are including a section on the submission form where
you have the opportunity to tell us what inspired you to write the piece. With
these new additions, we hope to broaden the content of future editions of
the Tuscarora Review. Now, without further delay, please enjoy the 39th
edition of the Tuscarora Review!
Kayla Swain & Draven Vasquez
Co-Editors in Chief

iv Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review v

 DEDICATION THE TUSCARORA REVIEW:
Editorial Board & Support Staff

J ane Menker, Associate Professor of
Nursing (November 17, 1957-
November 15, 2018) Faculty Advisor
Jane started her college career as a Ramón Jones, Assistant Professor, English
student at FCC and attained an
Associate’s of Science degree. She
transferred to the University of Co-Editors-in-Chief
Maryland and obtained a Bachelor’s of Kayla Swain and Draven Vasquez
Science in Nursing degree in 1979 and
received a Master of Science in Nursing
in 1985. Jane taught at FCC for fourteen Associate Editors
years. She was an extremely influential Bryce Kelley and Kat Reyes
nurse and educator. Students felt
fortunate and blessed to have had her as
an instructor. They were glad to have the Design and Layout
opportunity and grateful for everything To Be Determined
that she taught and did for them while
they were studying nursing. Jane inspired
them while sharing her love and passion Production
for the nursing profession. Lisa Sheirer, Professor, Program Manager,
Her accomplishments include Computer Graphics and Photography
teaching thirteen different courses at the College, developing and
reconstructing existing courses in the nursing program, and mentoring junior
faculty and students seeking their Master’s degree in nursing. On May 4, Production Staff
2015, FCC’s Career and Technology Advisory Council presented Jane with Cheryl Peterson, Academic Office Manager, English Department
the Award of Excellence for outstanding
contribution to career and technology in the nursing program. In addition to Photography
her contributions to the nursing department, Jane served on various College John Doe
committees and as a clinical nurse she fostered a relationship between FCC
and Frederick County through Frederick Memorial Healthcare.
Jane will be missed dearly by colleagues, students, friends, and family. Printer
To Be Determined

vi Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review vii

 TABLE OF CONTENTS
Artist................................ Name ................................................. Page DRAWING
Julie Huffman ............Home of the Brave ...............................................52-53
SHORT STORY Angel Baron ...............Limbs of Spirit ......................................................54
Jeremy Rock ..........................Flowers . ........................................................... 10 Alexis Jones ...............Narrative ...............................................................57
Christopher Rahman . ...........A Graveyard On the Hill ................................... 16 Abby Mills . .................Auburn Flow . ........................................................58
Ronan Bogley ........................The Daisy ......................................................... 24
Kaitlin McCaillion ..................Poison For Poison ........................................... 35
PHOTOGRAPHY
POETRY
Photo of Dr. Cain provided by Susan Cain ..............................................iv
Sarah Bigham . ......................Inheritance ........................................................ 8
John Nelson . .............Bonsai #1 .............................................................vii
Sarah Bigham . ......................Whence Comes Heaven . ................................ 39
John Nelson . .............Arm Vase . .............................................................13
John Nelson . .............Study of shadow and Light: Calla Lily .................38
Carolyn Sangi ............Portrait ..................................................................30-31
FEATURE/INTERVIEW
Lisa Sheirer ...............Dr. Sheldon Photo ................................................42
Charles Herrmann . ...............Interview with Dr. John Sheldon . ................... 42
Carolyn Sangi ............NYC . ......................................................................47
ILLUSTRATION
PAINTING
Abraham Moreno ..................Beast................................................................. 14
Chrystal Dickerson ....Element of Freedom ............................................Cover
Abby Mills . .............................Beast . .............................................................. 15
Aaeza Kahn ...............Portrait ..................................................................50
Marco DeLauri . .....................Possessed Things ........................................... 17
Nicholas Riley ............Portrait ..................................................................51
Brandon Stewart ...................Possessed Things ........................................... 19
Brandon Stewart ...................Childhood Memory . .................................. 22-23
Editor’s Choice: selections in fiction, poetry, two dimensional, and three
Robert Taylor .........................Beast . .............................................................. 25
dimensional art are judged according to emotional and intellectual depth,
April Hopkins .........................Oxymoron: Savage Beauty .............................. 26
strength of observation and imagination, energy, freshness and precision of
Ayana Harding .......................Word Project: Delicious . ................................. 29
language, and/or technical accomplishment.
Stephanie Wolf ......................Word Project: Ferocious .................................. 32
Nicole Campbell ....................Beast . .............................................................. 37
Zachary Opishinski ...............Word Project: Sour .......................................... 48
April Hopkins .........................Steam Punk ..................................................... 55

FDevin Micheal, checking twitter- Painting

Zoe Sharrer . ..........................Beast . .............................................................. 56

DRAWING
Francis Garcia .......................Owl ......................................................................ii
Debbi Jacobi ..........................Narrative ............................................................ 9
Paola Dumadag . ...................Crystal Orbit . ............................................. 20-21
Alexis Jones ...........................Studio Still Life................................................ 27
Jack Vernon ...........................Geisha Family .................................................. 28
Rebekah Smith . ....................Portrait ............................................................. 33
Abby Mills . .............................Portrait ............................................................. 34
Stephanie Freniere.................Left Behind at the Bottom of the Box .......40-41
Kelsey McClung .....................Untitled ............................................................ 49
Jack Vernon ...........................Withheld .................................................... 52-53

viii Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review ix


Carrots
Annick Djikounou
"W oah, your eyes are really puffy, Shino,” I said, glancing over
at her.”We were at an opening for one of our friend’s art
exhibit. The main
ceremony was over and we were all ushered into the lobby for
cocktail hour but there were no cocktails. All the guests were in
semi-formal attire, walking around and mingling. It was annoying,
standing amongst the crowd of fake posh people, but I had to sup-
port my friend.
Shino and I stayed glue to the refreshment table. Broke college students
and free food: the greatest pair since PB&J.
“No way,” Shino said, poking her upper eyelid.
“Ha ha, it’s soft and squishy.”
“What did you even eat?” I asked Shino as she filled her tiny plate for the
third time. I was on my fourth plate.
Shino pointed to the veggie platter on the far side of the refreshments table.
“Carrots,” she said. “I had, like, three.”
“I didn’t even know they had veggies,” I said, putting my plate down.
“Aren’t you allergic to carrots?”
“Well, yes and no.”
I stopped her from reaching for another piece of cheesecake. “What does
that even mean? Are you allergic or not?” I turned her so she could face me.
Her swollen eyes had gotten large and the beginnings of a rash had spread
along her collarbone.
“I am, kind of,” she said. “I guess.”
“Then why would you eat three whole carrots if you’re allergic to them?” I
was nearly screaming and a few people had turned in our direction.
Shino giggled. “Okay, they weren’t whole carrots. They were baby ones.”
She patted my cheek and sidestepped me to grab that piece of cheesecake I
had stopped her from earlier.
“You think it’s funny?”
“I mean, no,” she said, mouth full of cheesecake. “I’ve just never had this
kind of reaction before.” Graham cracker crust from the fell from her mouth.
“But you’ve had reactions?”
“Yes.” She coughed, not seeming to mind that her eyes had swollen to the
size of oranges. She was eating and that’s all that mattered to her.
“So why did you eat the carrots?”
“I didn’t want to waste any food! Veggie platters are expensive, ya know.”
Now she was looking at me like I was the crazy one.
“Funerals are also expensive,” I replied.
10 Tuscarora Review 2019­
She waved me off. “I’m not going to die,” she said, but her coughing fits
were getting worse.
“How do we know that,” I said. “Do you at lea st have allergy medicine?”
“I might have some in the car.” She scratched at the worsening rash.
“Okay, let’s go get it then.” We left the exhibit. Outside, the sun was
setting. Shino was slowly trailing behind me, still unbothered. We got to the
car and I pulled on the passenger side handle but it wouldn’t budge. “Where
are the keys?” I asked.
“Here.” She tossed the keys to me. I unlocked the door and rummaged
through the glove compartment. I couldn’t find the allergy
medicine anywhere.
“Where is it?” I asked.
“In the glove box maybe,” she replied, still holding her plate of food. She
stuffed food into her mouth, munching away furiously like someone was
going to steal the plate from her. I wanted to knock it from her hand.
“That’s where I’m looking,” I said. “I don’t see it.” I looked in the backseat,
under the seats, everywhere a bottle of medicine could be.
“Then I probably don’t have any more.” She’s still eating.
“Fine. Get in the car.”
“Why?” She finally looked up from her plate. Not because she was possibly
going to keel over at any moment but because she finished her last finger
sandwich. She hadn’t even offered me any.
And I was here trying to save her life.
“So we can go get you some medicine, Shino! I can’t leave you here and
have you go into anaphylactic shock in front of all these people!”
“What kind of allergy medicine do you take?” We were on the road now,
the closest pharmacy was Walgreens, a mile away.
“Zyrtec, please. I hate Benadryl. Touch my skin.” She was poking at her
eyelid. “It’s so soft, like a baby.”
“Stop touching your eyes. You’ll make it worse.” I swatted her hand away
from her face.
“But it’s so soft!” She continued poking her eyelid.
“Stop that, please! Is your throat okay, do you feel any tightness?” I pulled
into the Walgreens parking lot.
Shino coughed. “Not really. It’s just itchy. Could you get me a Pepsi while
you’re in there?”
“Sure. And you said Zyrtec, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, stay in the car. I’ll be back.” I went inside, which was practically
dead. I rushed over to the medicine aisle and quickly try to find the Zyrtec
knowing full well that Shino was probably still squishing her fatty eye.
2019 Tuscarora Review 11
 I grabbed a box of Zyrtec and headed to the cashier, who went on about
signing up for the Rewards program. Chevy Nova
I politely declined, grabbed the box, and ran out. Grant Springer
“Here,” I said, getting in the car and tossing the box to her.
She gave it a look over and whined, “Why didn’t you get the non-drowsy?” The water filter’s leaking, the once metallic pedals turned layered rust,
If she wasn’t having an allergic reaction, I would have strangled her before
the anaphylactic shock did. “You didn’t say anything about that.” the clutch slipping every other gear, the sun shining through the cracked windshield;
“This medicine contains—”
“Don’t read it,” I yelled. “Eat it!” when I drive in that ‘74 Chevy Nova, I fly.

She’s not the type you’d buy from some fancy auto dealer.

She came from mud and dirt, and a different time, and she drove like it.

Secluded from the world hid the most timeless car ever built, now mine.

It’s my turn to feel what she can offer.

Key turns, engine rolls over, and the exhaust roars;

she asks me, “Are you ready for the show?”

Tony Allen, Car- Photo

Tony Allen, Car- Photo

12 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 13
 Twiggy’s Turn
April Hopkins
I t was a foggy morning in his woods when he woke up. One moment he was
deep in dreamless hibernation, and the next he was aware again. With
consciousness came confusion. Gathering his bearings in the beginning was
always an unenjoyable event. The familiarity of the trees and his
surroundings distantly registered in his slowly clearing mind. He could
remember, now, falling asleep in the lower branches of his beech. He sat up
and as he placed his hand down to keep his balance, and saw them. Spindly
wooden fingers attached to equally wooden hands, patched randomly with
bark and lichen. That was… different, he supposed. Upon physical inspection
he could feel that the rest of his body and even his face had received similar
treatment to his hand. Not bad. A little on the nose, but not bad.
He was pulled from his self-inspection when he noticed movement from
the corner of his vision. Others of his kind were rising now, pulling through
their respective trees and bushes. He had been the first, then. He couldn’t
help but grin at the realization. He had never been the first to wake before.
The first believed in. It was flattering and he was excited to meet the human
responsible for his rise. He gripped the branch tight with both hands and
swung himself down to the forest floor, leaves crunching
beneath root-like feet.
He found the small human girl not even ten feet from the base of his tree,
laying on the ground with a book opened in front of her. Already, there were
a few other curious tree spirits gathered around her. Bark-skinned and leafy
haired others would approach at regular intervals, thank the girl profusely,
and then wander off in search of friends and fun. She remained oblivious to
it all. She may believe with all of her little girl heart in them, but humans still
couldn’t see. The ones that did usually went crazy… or at least everyone else
thought they were.
The newly revived tree spirit pushed himself to the front of the crowd and
knelt by the girl. She looked no more than seven or eight years old. The
spirit smiled. It was almost always the children that brought them back. She
was wearing a pink, flowered dress with dirt and grass stains all over it. Her
messy brown hair was in a pony tail and her nose was scrunched in
concentration as she read. As they all watched, she moved into a sitting
position and closed her book, turning to grab a brown bag from beside her.
From it she pulled a sketchbook and colored pencils.
It wasn’t long before she had a shaky picture in progress. The others had
lost interest by this point, wandering away in bits and pieces until he was the
only one left at the girl’s side. He leaned over her to look at the picture. It
was a drawing of him! She was no professional by any means but the picture
was indisputably him. She added the last twig poking from his leafy head
14 Tuscarora Review 2019­
and sat back with a satisfied, “Perfect!” The spirit smiled in agreement.
Of course he was, she had imagined him so. She reached down once more
and grasped the brown.
“Now to draw you a friend, tree man! Everyone needs a friend, you see,”
she said with all the authority of a small child. The spirit nodded, excited to
see the friend he had only just remembered he had. He thought the stupid
grin may never leave his face.
As she started drawing again he felt a new presence by his side and
turned excitedly.
“Hello, Twiggy,” said the newcomer. His dear friend. His best friend. And
how nice of him to remember his name too, that would’ve bothered him after
a while.
“Brin!” Twiggy exclaimed, the name coming to him without much thought.
Brin sat beside Twiggy and the human child. He looked like a mound of
earth covered in moss and leaves. In his leafy hair there was an upturned
birds nest, a sort of woodsy hat. Twiggy pointed this out gleefully between
laughs and try as he might, Brin couldn’t be mad. None of them could. Not
now, at least. They were awake! Alive! And for as long as they were, there was
fun to be had.
___
And fun they did have. Over the years their lovely little girl (named Sarah,
they had learned) believed in many more lost spirits of their woods. The
woods became filled with trolls and river folk, will-o-the-wisps and, on one
notable occasion, a large stone lizard-looking creature, who she named
Gargoyle. He could not remember his name and, in fact, many were
convinced he was entirely new.
They played with Sarah nearly every day. Tag, hide and seek, and whatever
game she thought up otherwise. She could not see them, but one of the best
things about children was their willingness to believe in whatever they
wanted. If she believed her friends were playing too then that was good
enough for her.
She lived in a small cottage that she stayed in even after her parents’
passing when she was in her mid forties. Time moved on but her belief
stayed steady. Twiggy and Brin would often visit her home on the days she
decided to stay home and watch TV or sleep. They watched her shows with
her, drank tea with her, did chores with her. Well, perhaps the last two were
really just keeping her company while she did them but Twiggy loved to
watch Sarah live.
Then she got older. Twiggy worried after her. Each day brought with it a new
ache, a new wrinkle, a new forgotten friend. She visited the woods less and
less and then, not at all. By the time she was eighty, all but the tree folk had
fallen back into the earth, asleep. The memories of her belief could only hold
them there for so long. These humans were the hardest to accept.
2019 Tuscarora Review 15
 Sarah would believe if only her mind wouldn’t give up on her. Still, Twiggy
visited… until he didn’t. He stopped when her pain became too much. When
her skin sagged so much it practically melted into the sheets of the bed
she was always in. He stopped when her eyes
“I’m sorry, dulled and he began to feel even himself
slipping from her mind.
Sarah,” he The woods became a somber place. Every
said softly, day another of them fell asleep, leaving the rest
awaiting the inevitable. Twiggy wasn’t there the
“I’m so sorry” day she had to hire a caretaker, the day she
forgot her own name before those of the last
few tree peoples’, or the day she had a stroke.
On that day he followed after the car with Brin and a few others when it
pulled out, only because that never happened anymore. Where could Sarah
be going? Short answer: the hospital. Slightly longer answer: the bed she
would die in.
When they arrived, Twiggy and the last of his kind gathered around Sarah’s
bed. The doctor had said she was “stable” but they all knew. She was dying,
would be dead by morning. Long gone was the child that had brought them
back to life. Sarah was old and dying and still she believed. Twiggy knelt by
his Sarah and lay his head on the white sheets.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry”
Sarah stirred and opened her eyes.
They were clearer than he remembered.
“Twiggy?” she croaked. She must be in desperate need of water. “I know
you’re there, Twiggy. I can feel it.”
Twiggy clutched at the bed sheets and raised his head. She was looking,
not at him exactly, but almost. He couldn’t bring himself to
say anything more.
Sarah smiled. “You were a lovely friend, Twiggy. Thank you.”
Twiggy could hardly see anything past the blur of tears in his eyes. He
reached up and plucked a leaf from his head with a shaking hand. A bright
orange maple leaf. Oh, gods above, he thought, let me give at least this
much. Then, he lay between Sarah’s hands something solid, something real.
day that the new family moved in. Trucks had brought furniture earlier in
the week but this morning a red pickup pulled into the driveway and the
new owners got out. With them was a little boy, whose mother was quick to
encourage him to, “Have a look around, Billy. Stay close!” The last bit was
called after his already retreating form.
Billy tromped through the woods right to the base of Twiggy and Brin’s
shared tree. He studied the ground before seating himself on some crunchy
brown leaves. He spotted a stick beside him which he snatched up and used
to start a doodle in the ground with. The shape looked vaguely familiar.
“Oh, don’t tell me –” Brin didn’t finish the thought, caught off guard by the
sight before him.
A figure rose from a puddle in front of the boy. A huge lumpy brown and
green toad, nearly triple the boys size. The toad leaped and sat by the boy. It
reached out and pulled a crown from thin air, promptly placing it on its head
with a flourish. The crowns previously golden luster tarnished upon contact
with his slimy head. A velvet cape sprung from its back as a small army of
frogs poured from the puddle and crowded around their king.
“You must be kidding me,” said Brin, his voice hardly audible, “of course
it’s that royal lumps turn.”
Twiggy smiled with as much energy as he could muster.
“We’ll get our turn again, Brin, just you wait.”
Brin huffed and leaned all the harder into Twiggy. There, leaning against
each other, they fell asleep.

Dio Brando, bowl- Painting

___

The old woman named Sarah that had been brought in yesterday
afternoon (with nothing) was dead when the doctor went to check on her the
next morning. She had a faint smile on her face and in her hands she held
an orange maple leaf. Everyone he asked hadn’t the slightest clue as to how
it had gotten there.
___

It was a sunny day three weeks later, when the last two tree spirits, Twiggy
and Brin, were settling within their beech tree to fall asleep. It was the same

16 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 17

 Marlboros and Dollar Store Perfume
Katherine Jones

Christmas 2012
Marlboros and dollar store perfume. That was the trademark scent of my
aunt. My family always knew when she was over because we could we smell
it before and after her arrival. She was wearing a denim jacket, with Winnie Rushing
the Pooh embroidered on the back, and denim jeans. I was standing near Bryce Kelley
the medicine cabinet, fulfilling my role as gatekeeper. She handed me a
box wrapped in cheap gold plastic paper. The contents of the box included 7:46, Slamming the door to my car
a baby pink Snuggie and a reading light. “I saw this deal on the television,”
she explained, “and thought of you.” The reason why is still unknown. After 7:47, Now stuck behind a school bus
taking a shot or two of cola and vodka, my aunt gave each person one last
hug goodbye. A month later, she would be sitting with the Lord who she loved 7:48, Behind schedule by far
as much as us.
7:49, Have to stop at every sign
March 29th, 2013
I crossed paths with her again. I was inside Walmart with my best friend, 7:50, I just need the bus to turn
picking out ice cream for that night’s sleepover. As my friend and I roamed
the aisles, a coloring book caught my attention. I wandered back to the 7:51, Gotta keep my cool and it’ll all be fine
vacant aisle, ready to make this unnecessary purchase, and that’s when
scent of Marlboros and dollar store perfume shook my insides. I ran down 7:52, Now! The bus is off and I blast past
the aisles, attempting to find her, or at least a woman impersonating her. The
pit in my stomach would take hours to go away. 7:53, Twenty, Thirty, Forty!

January 28th, 2018 7:54, I drive down the long backroad fast
It’s been exactly five years since she left us. She came to hang out for a little
while tonight. I was planted on the couch, ready to watch the Grammys. This 7:55, I round corners and pump the brakes
was the only night of television that I insisted on watching live. Two hours
into the music awards, my house’s temperature started to replicate that of 7:56, Past St. John’s and nearly there
outside. During a commercial break, I went to find another blanket to throw
on top of me. The mess of my bedroom was an illustration of my mind at that 7:57, Wait at the stoplight, my heart aches!
moment. I didn’t find a blanket. The announcers of the Grammys faintly told
me it was time to start watching again but I was blanketless. As I passed the 7:58, So close! I’m right at the gate!
linen closet, I ran into the scent of Marlboros and dollar store perfume. The
pit in my stomach returned after its five-year hiatus. Shaking, I grabbed the 7:59, I’m one turn away!
handle of the closet door. Making eye contact with me was a baby pink Snug-
gie I hadn’t seen since it was given to me. The announcers on TV remind- 8:00, oh... I’m already late...
ed me again that I needed to rush downstairs. The hairs on my arm stuck
straight up as I snagged the blanket from its hiding. My feet dragged down
the steps, sliding as I got to the television. Wrapped in the Snuggie my aunt
had given me, I watched Logic perform his song “1-800-273-8255.”
A song that could have saved my aunt’s life.

18 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 19

 The Pier “Yes Kol, thank you,” Niklaus responded as he looked intently at the menu.
“I heard that you will be leaving us,” I looked up at Kol.
Kat Reyes “Yes, I got accepted into art school in Boston. I got to say, I’m a bit
nervous,” Kol replied as he looked away.

Istood at the edge of the pier studying the scenery in front of me. A cool
breeze blew my dark brown hair softly behind me, the air still warm enough
that it didn’t feel like fall yet. I leaned against the wooden rail, careful not to
“Don’t be. I saw one of your pieces at the gallery showing last week, I was
impressed. It reminded me of Rafael’s School of Athens,” I told him as his
gaze wandered back at me. Niklaus looked sharply at me. Before Kol could
get my black lace sleeves from my dress caught on the chips in the wood. I give his thanks he interjected, “When
shifted the weight between both my feet to provide some relief to the did you go to an art opening?” "I huffed. I was
discomfort of the nude pumps I wore. I ignored his question as I watched Kol
The lake in front of me looked black as if hiding its secrets. The expanse of walk away to get our drinks. I turned getting frustrated
water seemed infinite until it reached the silhouetted strip of land lined with back to look at my menu, before
trees. The sun was setting behind the strip, its yellow light reaching toward responding, “The other night when but didn’t want
me. The sun’s halo was dark orange morphing into shades of pink, finally you were working late, an old college
turning into mixtures of violet and blue at the pinnacle of the sky.
I closed my eyes for a second, taking in the sharp crisp air when I felt a
friend owns a gallery. I to show it."
recommended Kol to her, she loved
hand come to rest on my shoulder. his pieces, and showcased them.”
“Alright, my love, the wait staff has our table ready, are you?” “Why?”
“Always,” I replied turning to him. He always reminded me of “I was bored. He mentioned an art auction his friends were hosting. I went
Michelangelo’s David. His tall, slender but muscular figure, tense but while you had to work late. I bought one of his sculptures. He has potential.”
relaxed, always with a brooding pensive face. I turned my head away so that “I suppose that’s true. But why do you care? And I don’t remember seeing a
his kiss landed on my check. I reached up to straighten his slim black tie sculpture in the loft.”
then he turned to stand next to me. He bent his arm and tucked my hand “It’s small and somewhere on a shelf.”
loosely in the nook of his elbow before bringing both hands down to tightly “Anyways, I’ve been working on this case and I have to say, I’m feeling well
grip my clutch and moved a pace ahead. We walked off the pier and onto the with our chances for the trial next week,” he snickered before saying, “I enjoy
perpendicular stone walkway. Following the path into the upscale modern this challenge, my job was getting too easy.”
glass restaurant that resided on the corner, separate from all the other “That’s great,” I said before thinking about how to go about
eateries lining the walkway. this impending conversation.
As soon as we entered through the glass doors, Kol, our usual waiter, Kol came by with our drinks, we gave him our orders and then he was gone
guided us to a table by a window with a view of the pier. It wasn’t our usual with our menus.
table. Ours was taken by an elderly couple celebrating their anniversary. Kol I took a big swallow of the cocktail focusing on the burn of the gin down my
was Bernini’s David. Where Niklaus had methodical blue eyes and pale skin, throat before saying,
Kol had an olive complexion with complementary green eyes freckled with “I’ve been thinking about my birthday.”
understanding in his sharp Greco-Roman facial proportions. Earthier, more “I’m looking forward to it. I have a few surprises planned.”
attainable. His voice was deep but his hands gentle. His hands were swift “I don’t want to celebrate it.”
and graceful as he pulled out my chair. He chuckled.
I walked behind Kol, my shoulder softly grazing against his crisp white “You’re funny. Of course you do.”
dress shirt as to sit in the chair from the other side. He pushed me in just as “No, I really don’t.”
Niklaus sat in his chair across from me. Niklaus and I grabbed our red silk “Be serious.”
napkin and placed them on our lap as he made his way to the center of the “I am, Nik.”
table. He handed us our menus, his hand gently brushing against mine and “Please,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice as he leaned back
giving me a quick wink and my breath got caught in my throat. in his chair and looked away from the table for a second. He looked back
We both looked at Niklaus and he asked, “An old fashioned with a furrowed brow and huffed out a deep breath.
and a Tom Collins?”

20 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 21

 “Yes. I don’t want the balloons, I don’t want the cake. I don’t want the
reminder that I still have many things in my short span of a
lifetime to accomplish.”
“We all don’t accomplish everything we want to do. Your perception on a
fulfilled life can be a bit farcical.”
I huffed. I was getting frustrated but didn’t want to show it. “I don’t want
the people.
I don’t want the fake smiles. I don’t want the prim and the proper. I don’t
want the guise of a celebration when it’s all about connections.”
“I’ll take you to dinner and the theater with some close friends. That’s
settled then.”
“I don’t want that either,” I replied while I placed my right hand flat on the
table, balling it into a fist then loosening it and relaxing in my chair.
He cleared his throat then asked, “So, you want nothing?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll get take out and rent a movie, or I’ll cook a special meal, just the two
of us then,” he reached for my hand, but I pulled it back quickly and placed it
in my lap.
“No Nik,” I looked away to the elderly couple sharing a slice of red velvet
cake. I watched them laughing for a few moments, a laugh that reached their
eyes. Envious of that joy. I forced myself to look back at Niklaus.
Kol arrived at our table and placed our meals in front of us. The delicacy
of which each dish was prepared with could be noticed by its display on how
it adorned the plate. The smell of the spices made me more aware of how
hungry I was.
“Would you like another drink, Eleanor?” Kol asked. Niklaus looked up at
him and raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“That would be lovely, Kol.” I hadn’t realized that I had downed my drink so
fast. He took my glass and was gone.
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at here? And you never drink so
fast or call me ‘Nik’ unless something is wrong.”
“Klaus,” I wanted to tell him point blank. The words I wanted to say needed
to be eased into. “Do nothing for my birthday. Go to work, stay late if you
have to, you do have a big trial coming, focus on that.”
“I don’t want to, I rather spend the day with you. We could go to an art
museum, you seem to enjoy that. I’ll brush up on my art history, isn’t
Baroque Classicism your favorite? Or is it the High Renaissance?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I looked down at my plate, moved the
pasta around with my fork in circles then stabbed a piece of shrimp and took
a forceful bite. The guilt bubbling up my chest made it harder to
swallow. Niklaus had gotten halfway through his steak dinner while I had
barely touched mine. Kol brought us fresh drinks.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you rather I go to work
22 Tuscarora Review 2019­
than spend the day with you at all? The office where you normally say I am in
too much of the time. Am I missing something here? What is
with you today?”
“What is with today today?”
“Can you tell me what this is about? I’m sick of these games you’ve been
playing as of late. Going out without telling me. Ignoring your phone. Avoiding
our social functions.”
“I’m not playing games.”
He downed his drink in three big swigs without spilling a drop. “Let me get
Kol. I think I’m finished with my meal and we can get a container for yours,”
he said as he proceeded to toss the cloth napkin from his lap on the table
with force that the utensils clattered. He motioned his hand in the air.
After a few moments, Kol returned and packaged my food. Niklaus picked
up the tab. We walked out of the restaurant side by side and back on to the
pier. It was dark out.
“I think you need some rest. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep any
this week now that I think about it,” Niklaus said as he stopped to face me
and pushed a loose strand of hair behind me ear.
“I’m rested enough. Go home.”
“Why would I go home without you?”
“I bought a boat today.”
“Wait, what?!” He stopped where he stood. I turned around and stood in
front of him. He had covered his face with both his hands. He dropped his
hands and narrowed his eyes.
I took a step forward. “I’ll send you the divorce papers.”
His eyes went wide, and mouth slightly fell open. He composed himself
with a stone-cold expression. He clamped my bicep then said in a harsh
whisper, “You’re being absurd. This is ridiculous. Stop this and grow up.”
“I am grown, and I’m done.” His grip tightened, and I winced from the pain.
“You’re hurting me.” I yanked my bicep free and slapped him
I walked away from him. I turned back onto the dimly lit stone walkway and
walked a few yards under the peaceful night sky reaching the dock. I saw
my houseboat. I climbed up the steps, pulled the keys from my clutch, and
unlocked the door walking into the small open space.
My suitcase was on the bed. I took my heels off as the door shut behind
me. Headed over to the bed and unzipped the suitcase. As I pulled out a
nightgown, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened slowly and
Kol walked in. I turned around to face him as he walked slowly to where I
stood by the foot of the bed.
2019 Tuscarora Review 23
 Doctor’s Orders
Delaine Welch

She sprinkles it
Into her glass
Add water
Directions state
Particles
Sparkle
Magical
Drink it
Doctor’s Orders
Cancer
Killer

Willing to do
Anything
Even believe in
Fairy Dust
Dre Docerson, drink- Mixed Media

Gus Johnson, Man- Photo

24 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 25
 Smoke
Kayla Swain
I clamber down the trail, sliding between trees and stretching my stumpy
legs over large gray and white rocks. My gaze glued to the ground and my
feet testing each step. Breathing labored, brow damp, and legs shaking, I
reach my destination: a red brick shack with a tin roof that sits in the middle
of the path. The dynamite shack. I smile and let out a breathy laugh. Hasn't
changed a bit. I push off a tree and bound over to the structure. My palms
and fingertips smack against the warm brick and my head tilts up, surveying
everything from the cracking foundation to the peeling roof.
When I was little I used to come up here once every summer with my
nature camp. The counselors would lead us into the shack and tell us tales
of how the water-logged quarry, which rests directly below, came to be, and
on occasion they spun us a scary story about the Quarry Creature; a scaled
monster that calls the quarry pond its home and loves the smell of ciga-
rette smoke. If anybody lights a cigarette near the pond the Quarry Creature
swims up from the depths of the quarry and pulls them under, never to be
seen again. The narrative gave me chills as a child but not so much anymore.
A few years ago I told it to my own group of bulging eyed, mouth
gaped campers.
“I will never understand what you like so much about this place,” says a
male voice behind me.
My heart drops to my stomach and I whip around, palms scraping along
the brick. Not enough to bleed but enough to sting. Before me stands a lanky
teenager, hands stuffed in the pockets of his shredded black skinny jeans
and a tuft of dyed black hair concealing his right eye. His thin, pink lips smirk
and his visible eye glimmers with mischief. Joseph. My heart jumps back to
my chest and I bolt for him, a smile threatening my pursed lips. When close
enough I leap onto him, throwing my arms around his neck, almost sending
us both to the ground. With my face buried in his chest I say, “I hate when
you do that!”
He tugs one hand out of its pocket then pats the top of my head. Smiling I
tighten my hold on him. While in nature camp and even after we became
counselors Joseph never missed an opportunity to greet me with a scare.
However, after his last greeting ended with me in the pond and himself
being chased around the park with water balloons and hoses by displeased
eleven to thirteen year olds, he quit. He never told me why, but I assume it’s
because he realized that one day he might scare me into a harmful situation.
That, or little kids intimidate him. My smile grows. He must be feeling
nostalgic, graduation far behind us and our college careers beginning in less
than a month. College. Hard to believe he’s leaving tomorrow. A lump forms
in my throat and my smile falters.
26 Tuscarora Review 2019­
Joseph laughs and I blink, once, twice, before removing my face from his
chest and tilting my head up to meet his mirthful blue gaze. Don’t think
about tomorrow. He’s still here now. Enjoy it. I clear my throat then flash him
a lazy smile and ask, “What’s so funny?”
“You,” he replies, sliding his hand down to cover my eyes.
I snort, swat his hand away, and then ask, “Did you get them?”
“Ye of little faith,” he says, wrenching his other hand from its pocket and
flipping his wrist up to reveal a pack of Marlboro Reds and a Bic lighter
decorated with an American flag. Heartbeat elevated and wide eyes locked
on the cigarettes I unwind my arms from Joseph's neck then drop, landing
on my feet with a thud and a stumble. Once I balance myself I snatch the
Reds and lighter and spin away from him, walking back to the shack. Joseph
follows, hands back in pockets and head tucked to his chest watching his
blacked-out Chucks kick at the pebble-speckled dirt. “You and I both know
the Quarry Creature isn’t real,” he says. “So why are we doing this?”
I sit down, cross legged, back pressed against the shack, and reply,
“Because we can,” I put the lighter down beside me then use both hands to
rip the plastic paper from the cigarette pack. My eyes refuse to meet Jo-
seph’s. “And because this might be our last chance.”
Joseph laughs, raises his head then says, “Our last chance to what? Tempt
an imaginary monster?” He laughs again.
Smart ass. I tuck my head to my chest and stick my gaze to my lap then
reply, “No. To do something stupid together,” the lump returns to my throat.
Dammit. I crumple up the plastic wrapping and shove it in the back pocket of
my frayed cut-offs.
With a sigh Joseph plops down beside me and stretches his legs out
before him. He then picks up the lighter and slips the Reds from my slack
grip, opening the pack and sliding two cigarettes out with his mouth. I guess
we’re not talking about what I just said. Keeping the cigarettes clamped
between his teeth he closes the pack and tosses it away from us. I’ll pick
it up before we leave. Don’t wanna freak the campers out too bad. Joseph
brings the lighter to his mouth and flicks the red ignition button twice with his
thumb. A flame sparks. I flinch. And he moves the flame across the ends of
both cigarettes, lighting them. One stays clasped in his teeth and the other
he places between my middle and fore finger. It wasn't supposed to be like
this. We should be joking and laughing like we always are. Why can’t
goodbyes be easier? My eyes well with tears and my lower lip trembles. I lift
my head to look him in the eye then say, “I’m gonna miss you.”
Joseph takes a long drag from his cigarette. I clench my free hand into a
fist and swallow hard. Say something. Anything. Please. He snaps the
cigarette from his mouth then says, “It’s only New York and I’ll be back for
winter break and summer too.” Smoke pours from his lips and nose. Okay,
maybe not anything.
Tears stream down my face; I punch the ground and say, “We’re not gonna
see each other for months! Doesn’t it bother you that we might lose touch?”
2019 Tuscarora Review 27
 His jaw clenches and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before turning his
head away from me and bringing his cigarette back to his lips, hand
shaking. Why is he always like this? I sob and punch the ground again then
say, “Answer me! Please.”
He moves his cigarette away from his mouth, licks his lips, clears his throat
then says, “My college does this thing where every month or so they put on a
concert for the campus bands so they can show off their new music.”
My brow furrows and my eyes narrow. What?
“That doesn’t –”
“We should go to one together sometime.” Oh. He puts out his cigarette on
the ground between us, continuing to grind it into the dirt long after its been
extinguished. “If you like it we could go to more.” A tear drips from his chin.
“Something to make the time apart not seem so long for you.” My mouth
opens then closes and I smile. Oh Joseph. I wipe my tears away then scoot
closer to him and lean my head on his shoulder.
“Sounds like fun.” I say, gaze dropping to my cigarette.
He lets out a shaky sigh then says, “Yeah.”
“Any other campus events we could go to together?” I say, bringing my
cigarette to my lips.
“Tons,” he says. My smile grows. I take a drag from my cigarette and blow
all the smoke out my mouth as he talks about the college’s student run
theatre troupe and their award winning productions. I Guess this wasn’t our
last chance after all.

Barbra Gordon, Love- Painting

Sarah Harding, Narrative- Drawing

28 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 29

 Barry Burton, nola- Painting
30 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 31
 Just a Second
Draven Vasquez

T he silver Toyota Camry careened off the side of the cliff, flying through the
night air then smashing into a tree, shattering the windshield. The car fell,
rear-end tilting down. The back slammed into the dirt and for a
moment, the car stood there without moving. Then it fell onto its roof
shattering the remaining windows.
Inside the car, Aaron regained consciousness. Still in the driver’s seat,
suspended upside down by his seatbelt. The left side of his face covered
in deep cuts hidden by copious amounts of blood. Looking left, he noticed
Sabrina, his girlfriend, was missing from the passenger seat.
“Sabrina!” he screamed. “Sabrina where are you!” Silence.
Aaron attempted to undo his seatbelt, but his weight on it prevented the
latch from releasing. He reached for the glove compartment, in which was
the emergency seatbelt cutter his mother had gotten him. He flipped open
the compartment and the cutter fell to the roof. He grabbed it and cut the
seatbelt. Aaron fell onto the glass covered roof. The shards tore into Aaron’s
side, causing him to cry out in pain and releasing more blood onto him. He
crawled out the driver side window, the jagged glass tearing through his
hands, and he laid on his back on the cold, wet grass.
The front of the Camry was bent into a V-shape and smoke rose from
underneath the hood. Both headlights were smashed leaving the scene in
darkness. Broken glass lay everywhere in the grass. Aaron reached into his
pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding,”
he muttered. Aaron took off his blood-stained shirt and laid it on the inside
of the roof before he crawled in to find his phone somewhere in the bloody
glass. He found it behind the gas pedal. He then reached into the backseat
for his jacket to protect himself from the cold, winter air. He got out of the car
Ryan English, Prince- Painting

and turned it on. The screen was broken, but the phone lit up.
He dialed Sabrina.
The line rang four times before Sabrina’s voice came through the phone
crystal clear and calm. “Hey, this is Sabrina—”
“Goddammit,” Aaron muttered.
“Sorry I can’t get to phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to
you as soon as I can.” A beep sounded, and Aaron punched the side
of the car.
He checked around the car for footprints but couldn’t find any on the cold
hard ground. Aaron turned on his flashlight and checked inside the car again
for anything he could use to figure out what had happened; her shoes were
missing but her jacket was stuffed behind her seat. The passenger side seat
belt was undone, and her phone was not in the car.
Aaron crawled back out of the car and pointed the flashlight at the cliff he
had drove off. The protruding jagged rocks casted shadows on the wall.

32 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 33

 He walked up to it and tried to climb but the phone in his hand prevented “Sir?” the operator asked.
him from being able to. He then turned around and pointed his flashlight into Aaron screamed. He curled into the fetal position and screamed. He could
the woods. “You really had nowhere else to go, did you?” he whispered. Cold not hear the approaching sirens over his own screams. By the time the
and covered in his own blood, Aaron closed his eyes and took a deep breath. EMT’s had arrived, Aaron’s screams sounded more like wind blowing through
When he exhaled, he opened his eyes and walked into the woods. an empty tunnel. The EMT’s loaded Aaron into the ambulance and stuck an
His phone cast a bright light ahead of him. The trees and bushes creating IV into his arm. One of the EMT’s injected a sedative into the IV.
shadows that moved when he did throughout the forest. Aaron looked back Aaron looked at the EMT, tears streaming down his face, and said in a
at the tree the car had crashed into and walked out in a straight line. Every broken voice, “It was just a second.”
tree he passed was lit up by the flashlight subsequently. Sabrina was no-
where to be found. He checked behind every large rock, every tree, and every
shrub. No sign of her.
Aaron stumbled over a fallen branch and fell onto his hands. Grunting in
pain, he crawled over to a tree, put his back to it, and rubbed his temple. He
opened his phone again and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.
“I ran my car off a cliff and crashed into a tree and it knocked me out.”
Aaron brought his legs up to his chest. “When I woke up my girlfriend was
missing and I still can’t find her.”
“What road were you on?”
“I honestly don’t have a fucking clue.” Aaron shifted uncomfortably on
something hard that he was sitting on. “Look, I can’t find my girlfriend and I
need help.”
“Have you been drinking tonight, sir?”
“No,” Aaron replied “I was just a little tired. I closed my eyes for just a
second and then I heard screaming. How soon until they can get here?” He
reached underneath where he was sitting to remove the object and pulled
out Sabrina’s phone. The screen lit up with a notification that read;
Aaron
Missed Call
Something wet dropped on to her phone screen. Aaron looked at it closely,
using the light from the screen to see what it was. It was dark. Blood. Aaron
looked up just in time for another drop to land in his right eye.
“Agh!” He screamed, dropping his phone and bringing his hand to his eye.

Betty Johnson, NOLA Nights- Painting

“Are you okay sir?” the operator asked. “Please remain calm, I have your
location and I’m sending an ambulance now.”
Aaron grabbed his phone, scrambled to his feet, and pointed his flashlight
up. Fifteen feet above, Sabrina hung upside down, impaled on a branch
protruding from her stomach. Her bloodshot eyes stared out into the woods
behind Aaron, red streaming from her nose and mouth. Her green shirt
soaked in blood that flowed down the sides of her neck into her hair, her legs
bent in abnormal directions, her arms hanging beneath her. Blood slowly
forming into little red bulbs at the ends of her hair, and then falling onto the
grass. Aaron fell back.
“It was just for a second,” He whispered. His eyes glued to Sabrina’s
corpse. “I closed them for just a second.”

34 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 35

 Something Light (The brothers go back to eating, draining their bottles throughout the
meal. Liam gets up and cleans the table of the plates and salad bowl,
Draven Vasquez taking them off stage. He returns with another bottle.)
Peter: Were you gonna grab me another?
CHARACTERS Liam: You haven’t even finished that one.
(Liam sits down and opens his bottle.)
Peter: Older brother to Liam, investor, mid 20s. Peter: Pretty close, though.
Liam: Younger brother to Peter, college student, late teens. (Liam flips off Peter while drinking his beer.)
Peter: Love you, too. (Smiles.)
SETTING (Peter gets up and walks offstage. He returns with another bottle of his
own. Peter sits and opens his bottle. The brothers sit and drink in silence.)
On Peter’s backyard porch. Liam: I want more inheritance.
Peter: (Chokes a little on his drink) What?
TIME Liam: Let me rephrase, I need more money.
Peter: Wait, wait, hold up, we split it down the middle. We agreed
Present day. Late at night. to fifty-fifty.
Liam: I know we did, but I want to renegotiate.
Lights up. A light mounted on the outside of the house illuminates the Peter: We ain’t doing this. Not now. Not tonight.
scene. The porch has a railing around it and is three steps off the ground. Liam: I leave tomorrow night. So we address this now. Tuition is going to be
It has a table with four chairs, and a grill. Peter and Liam sit on opposite way more than I thought this semester and I can’t take on that much debt.
sides of the table. Each eating from a plate of meat and rice, a bowl of salad Peter: (Agitated) I don’t give a rat’s ass if you don’t want to take on debt.
sitting between them. I’ve already invested the money.
Liam: You invested the money while she was dying!? (Stands up.) Are you
Peter: Want a beer? fucking kidding!?
Liam: Mom would kill you. Peter: Relax, I’m using the inheritance as reimbursement.
Peter: Mom ain’t here. Liam: You’re missing the point! She was dying, and you were already
(Liam stays silent. Peter gets up and walks offstage.) planning on how to spend her money!
Peter: (Offstage.) IPA or somethin’ light? Peter: Better that than paying a stupid amount of money for some hack
Liam: I don’t know the difference. college to get some performing arts degree!
Peter: (Offstage.) IPA gets you drunk faster! Liam: This again? Really?
Liam: (Takes a moment to think.) Something light! Peter: Yes, this again! (Stands up.) You done nothin’ but waste her money
(Peter walks back on stage holding two beer bottles. He sits down and right in front of her face! Things obviously ain’t gonna change even while
opens each, sliding one to Liam.) she’s dead.
Peter: (Holding up his bottle.) To Mom. Liam: She loved that I was chasing my dreams!
Liam: (Holds up his bottle.) To Mom. Peter: Don’t mean that she loved your dreams.
(Peter lightly taps his bottle on the table before taking a drink from it. (Liam walks around the table to get in Peter’s face)
Liam pours a little beer from his bottle onto the porch before taking a Liam: I’d rather chase my dreams than just throw money at everything and
drink.) expect it to be fixed!
Peter: You know tappin’ it on the table means the same thing as pourin’ Peter: Guess I got that habit from Mom. I mean, just look at the money
it out, right? she threw at you.
Liam: I don’t even know what the hell pouring it out means. Liam: Fuck you!
Peter: My friend put it like this, “you gotta tap it on the table for all the (Liam pushes Peter hard. Peter stumbles back and laughs)
homies who ain’t here to drink with ya.” Peter: Aww, look at poor baby Liam. Can’t win the argument so he starts
Liam: So why not just pour it out? Looks cooler than tapping it. gettin’ all physical. Just like the old days.
Peter: Wastes more alcohol too. Liam: I ain’t a kid anymore.

36 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 37

 Peter: Fuckin’ prove it then.
(Liam charges at Peter and they exchange blows on the porch. Peter
pushes Liam on to the table. Liam grabs an empty bottle on the table and
smashes it over Peter’s head.)
Peter: Agh! (He puts his hand up to his head and turns away ) What
the fuck!
Liam: Shit, I wasn’t—dammit. Are you okay?
(Peter turns back towards Liam, blood streaming down his face.)
Liam: Hey, I’m sorr—
(Peter charges at Liam and tackles him down the stairs. Peter Lands on
top of Liam and punches him repeatedly After landing a few blows, Peter
relents and looks down at his brother, Liam takes the opportunity and
lands a solid right punch knocking Peter off to Liam’s left. The brothers lay
on the ground for a few minutes in silence.)
Peter: That really hurt.
Liam: I’m sorry, I just—
Peter: Shut up.
(Peter gets up, walks up the stairs and disappears offstage)
Liam: Goddammit.
(Liam gets up and sits on the stairs. Peter returns with a towel in hand
and sits down next to Liam. Silence.)
Peter: Ten thousand.
Liam: What?
Peter: You can have ten thousand of my share. It ain’t much, but that’s the
most I can give. I was already in the negative with this investment. Any-
more and I might be in serious trouble.
Liam: You don’t have to.
Peter: I know.
(Silence)
Liam: Thanks.

Jotoro Kujo, Doctors- Painting

(Peter puts down the towel and unfolds it revealing two beer bottles. He
opens each bottle, picks one up, and offers it to Liam)
Peter: Drink to it?
Liam: Yeah. (Liam takes the beer and holds it in the air.) To Mom.
Peter: (Raises his beer and smiles.) To Mom.
(The brothers clink their bottles together and tap them on the stairs
before
taking a drink. Liam chokes a little and pulls the bottle away examining it.)
Liam: This isn’t something light.
(Peter flips Liam off while drinking his beer.)
Liam: Yeah, (Smiles.) I love you too.
(Fade to black)

38 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 39

 My Son
Jeanne McDermott
I’m so in love
with this miniature face,
my special place
to go when I am needed.
he is peppermint, sweet
his head a little gold peach.
The tiniest of breathing,
his swollen round cheeks.
I’m betrothed
to his well-being.
His curious little hand
reaching to me
earnestly.
It is an ambition to know
life is no longer
just plowing through.
There is this bundle to tow.
I must carry him gently yet firmly
and keep him tilted toward the sun
to grow.
Chris Redfield, Claire-Drawing
40 Tuscarora Review 2019­
Part Two
Was it all a dream?
The sweetness, it seems,
becomes a dragon that is released.
Then there are times I tiptoe near
if you will allow me
a quick kiss or caress,
to hold you for a second that lasts forever,
before you run from me.
I am no longer your castle
nor your queen,
but just a lowly grey stone,
or so it seems.
This is only because
you are now thirteen.
But when you are asleep
you are mine again
slipping into that melted softness,
your cheeks are again plump,
your half smile, tender
to innocence, surrender.
I only have until dawn
before you grow up,
before you wake up…
to tuck you safely in.
Chris Redfield, Claire-Drawing
2019 Tuscarora Review 41
 Interview with David Moreland,
Professor of Art
Dave Moreland, Portrait- Painting
D avid Moreland grew up on a farm in Iowa knowing he wanted to be an
artist by eighth grade. He aspired to be a painter although he was very
much interested in music and the performing arts.
Receiving a football scholarship allowed him to go to college although he
faced a bit of conflict between art and sports. He persisted and majored in
painting and drawing, completing undergraduate work at the
University of Iowa.
Professor Moreland decided to go to graduate school after teaching high
school for a short period “A very long time ago,” he states. After teaching
high school, he decided he wanted to go on teaching but in college instead.
Attending the University of Wisconsin, he received a Master of Fine Arts.
Hired from Wisconsin to teach at the University of Idaho, where his college
teaching career began, David Moreland spent 15 years there and then
moved to the East Coast. He has been teaching and making art ever since.
Tuscarora Review: Your interest first started in performing arts and
music. What made you shift into painting?
42 Tuscarora Review 2019­
Professor Moreland: I had one member in my family, my great uncle, my
grandfather’s brother was an artist and I used to see his paintings when I
was a kid by visiting his sister and my grandfather. I was just taken by his
watercolors and his paintings and decided that’s what I wanted to do. My
mother directed the choir and played the organ, so I was connected to music.
I liked doing theater in high school but, I ended up as a visual artist. That’s
what I wanted to be all along. Drawing and making images.
Tuscarora Review: Is painting your favorite medium?
Professor Moreland: I’m a mixed media artist. I do paint and sculpture.
Tuscarora Review: I remember you showing us some of your own home
sculptures in Intro to Creative Arts.
Professor Moreland: Yeah, little characters made from tin. Out of roofing
materials. Old barns.
Tuscarora Review: In Art History, I remember you showed your
interpretation Duchamp’s bottle rack. You then had mentioned that you
had exhibited that piece and others here. How many have
you exhibited here?
Professor Moreland: I’ve only been in the faculty show each time it’s
happened since I started teaching here. I’ve shown all over the country but,
I had a gallery in Washington DC for a while. I’ve shown at the Delaplaine
several times here in downtown. I still pursue that a little bit but it’s not my
primary focus. I’m mostly interested in making it not so much showing it.
Tuscarora Review: Have you sold anything?
Professor Moreland: Yes, just a little bit. I’ve never been a great business
artist. When I left Idaho to come to the East Coast, I had a gallery in
Washington DC and sold a piece. It sold for three thousand dollars and
people say ‘Wow. That’s a lot of money’. Well, the gallery took half of that.
Fifteen hundred dollars doesn’t get you very far. I missed the art piece so
much, I made one for myself in memory of the one sold. I rather keep a lot of
the pieces that I have. I like having them around, having them there.
Tuscarora Review: You have some nice pieces here.
*Motioning to artwork around office*
2019 Tuscarora Review 43
 Professor Moreland: I donated to the college some big paintings. The ones
outside on the hallway. My reinterpretation of bottle rack that you mentioned
is in a little diptych that’s down the hallway back here on one side and Venus
of Willendorf on the other. She comes from prehistoric art. A little
four-inch-tall female figure that’s said to be a fertility goddess. I think of them
as being as both potent and symbolic of moments in art history. I’m going to
leave those to the college as well.
Tuscarora Review: How long have you been at FCC?
Professor Moreland: I started at FCC as an adjunct in 1993 and then was
hired fulltime in 2001. So that adds up to 25 years, if I’m not mistaken. A
good half of my teaching career has been here at FCC.
Some years ago, Joe Campbell, who retired from here out of ceramics,
began the class in Nonwestern Art History. When he decided he didn’t want
to teach that anymore, I said “I’ll do it”. I’ve been learning about the rest of
the world ever since.
Tuscarora Review: What is your favorite time period you teach?
Professor Moreland: That’s a tough one. I like it all. I didn’t used to like
certain parts of it but now that I’ve taught it for several years and have filled
out my knowledge of each section of history. I guess I get more charged up
the closer we get to the present. Modern and Postmodern, which is what
I consider myself to be. A Postmodern Artist. Someone who can pick and
choose and take whatever inspirations I want.

Tuscarora Review: What classes do you teach? Tuscarora Review: All those time periods, do they inspire your art, or do
you get inspiration from other things?
Professor Moreland:
My background is painting and Professor Moreland: I’ve had a couple of exhibitions here at the Delaplaine
drawing. Upon moving to the East that I entitled Art History as Muse. The inspiration is coming directly out of
Coast, I was teaching exclusively Art History. When I wasn’t teaching art history for a while, I started doing
courses in drawing and painting narrative about the entire history of art. I could go through it and see it
at other schools. Initially at FCC I happen and I’ve done a lot of that.
was teaching drawing. The person Like that little reprusé up there is the Venus of Willendorf on the left and a

Dave Moreland, Sardanapalus- mixed media

who was teaching art history left. little Apollo figure on the right. That would be going back to the ancient world.
They looked at my resume and And then next one would be the next time frame and the next time frame
saw that I had taught art history moving forward.
before. Asked if I would be willing

Dave Moreland, The Oracle of Delphi- mixed media

to do it and I jumped at the chance
because I missed it. When I first
moved [to the East Coast] I was
doing paintings and drawings
about art history. That’s when the
bottle rack showed up in my art,
coming to the modern world, it
transformed into that flamelike
mystery object you see in
that image and drawing.
I was glad for it because
I had the opportunity to build
that knowledge. I also jumped at the chance to take on the creative arts
class because that included music, dance, and theater. Things that I was
interested in but needed to learn about. I’ve been learning about those
through teaching that class.

44 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 45

 That one up there is the classical. You can see the Venus again up there
on the left and then the classical world on the right. And this is the
Degas here.
I will take a single artist and appropriate their work or make a reference to
their work in my own. I love art history and it’s always continually enriching
my life and serving as a source of inspiration.
Tuscarora Review: You can see the different pieces and the different
eras in your art that it was inspired by.
Tuscarora Review: The one up there in the corner, is it based on a
Jackson Pollock?
Professor Moreland: It is my painting based off Jackson Pollock. I was
doing a joint presentation with someone in the math department.
Annie Commito.
She said Pollock is a fractal painter. She was going to talk about him
relating to math and fractals and I was going to talk to people about him as
an artist. She asked me to make a Pollock. I did it and in sequence. I could
take a photograph of each area of the painting as it developed. She analyzed
it mathematically and gave me a score relatively to a Pollock score. I did well.
It came close to Pollock’s math. My little Pollock there. *chuckles*
Tuscarora Review: I like the colors on there.
Professor Moreland: It’s Pollock-esque. You could all do one if you wanted
to. In my creative arts class I used to have everybody do a Jackson Pollock
painting. We would go off to another room, I’d give them a board and they
would do a Pollock-like painting. They could do anything they wanted if they
were splattering and spilling the paint.
Annie gave me some shells because a mussel colony is a fractal
organization and she was going to go to California to present the Pollock
presentation that we had done. She wanted to give Mussel shells out to
everyone who came to her presentation with a Pollock on them. The students
put them next to the ones they were working on and spilled the paint over on
the shells as they were working on their paintings. They were beautiful.
Tuscarora Review: With all this art history from around the world you
teach, do you do much travel?
Professor Moreland: Ever since I was an undergraduate, in between my
sophomore and junior year in college, I did what people call a grand tour of
Europe. I was able to go to Europe on five dollars a day. Guidebooks. I did a
broad sweeping overview of European Countries. I went into Africa and North
Africa that time also.
46 Tuscarora Review 2019­
I’ve been back to Europe a few times, but Mexico is another place I’ve
enjoyed being. I’ve been all over Canada. My most recent and exotic trip was
to India where I visited the Taj Mahal. Some other highlights there. Art.
Architecture. That’s all I look at.
Tuscarora Review: Do you have a favorite place in which you’ve been, or
would it be hard to choose?
Professor Moreland: It’s a little bit hard. I think maybe Teotihuacan, the
cityscape between the Mayan and the Aztec that’s north of Mexico City.
Pyramids. There is a pyramid to the moon and a pyramid to the sun. The
Aztec named the place Teotihuacan and it was abandoned. I visited it as an
undergraduate and again a few years ago. It’s a favorite place.”
Tuscarora Review: Do you ever want to go back again?
Professor Moreland: I’d like to go back to all these places again but if I go
somewhere I like to try something new. There are places on my bucket list
that I have yet to reach. I want to go to Peru if I can. We’ll see what happens.
Tuscarora Review: In going to these locations, have you seen a piece
that moved you? Took your breath away in a sense?
Professor Moreland: I think that Taj Mahal did that. It’s such an iconic
building. People say it’s the most beautiful building in the world. The day we
were there it was kind of a foggy day. It had an ethereal quality of looming
out of the mist. As you approached it, it got clearer. That was a real
spectacular and moving place to be. I was thrilled to be there. Just getting
the was the exciting part. India was such an amazing place. You should go
there some time.
Tuscarora Review: Any other facts you want to share?
Professor Moreland: I’ve kept all these past issues of the Tuscarora Review.
I’ve just been collecting them since I’ve been full time.
Tuscarora Review: I took creative writing at the same time I was taking
your art history class and a lot of things we talked about inspired my
writing. I wrote a piece which mentioned the Renaissance and
Michelangelo. I wrote another piece and it talked about Starry Night and
what you would say about the meaning of death.
2019 Tuscarora Review 47
 Professor Moreland: You take death to reach a star. That’s what Van Gogh
said. I’m also interested in writing and poetry. Must have been in the fifth or Tuscarora Review: Sounds interesting. Any other comments you would
sixth grade where I was writing poetry and painting. I continued to write as like to add?
an undergraduate when I was in the University of Iowa. They have a writer’s
workshop there. I did poetry but let it go for many years because of art. Professor Moreland: You should know that my wife is also related in the
Visual arts and teaching. After I retire my plan is to do more writing too. arts. She’s the executive director of the Delaplaine as well as a bead artist.
She makes images and artworks out of beads. She made the bottle rack out
Tuscarora Review: Have you ever had anything sent out to of beads for me and other things like little boxes. She’s doing other things
be published? now. We have a good, symbiotic relationship art. She knows as much or
more about it as I do. She knows a lot more about music than I do.
Professor Moreland: I haven’t tried, I’ve only done that with art. Poetry
has been something I just put away. Maybe, I’ll let it out, who knows? I’m Tuscarora Review: This has been an interesting interview. I’ve enjoyed
writing about paintings right now. A poem about famous paintings out of art listening to what you’ve had to say. Thank you for your time.
history. Another way of rethinking and analyzing what the painting gives you.
The words that I come up with in a poem always surprise me. You sit down
and say, ‘Okay, I’ll say this verse,’ then suddenly other things pop out of your
head and the work progresses. Sometimes it’s the same with visual art. You
certainly don’t know what you’re going to end up with from where you
started. The ending is a surprise. Do you have to rework your
poetry or your writing?

Tuscarora Review: I write then I’ll leave it alone. I come back with a
clear mind and change things.

Dave Moreland, Van Gogh- mixed media

Professor Moreland: I think in both cases, like in visual art work, I know
when it’s good. The moment when I’ve arrived at something that is just right.
Sometimes I will work past that point, regret missing when that happens and
try to do more. I think in writing, it works out a little bit that way too. It’s just
right sometimes with a little modification. If I start messing around with it too
much it falls away: inspiration disappears.

Tuscarora Review: When you’ve done art have you ever had an idea
and then when you were getting to that point it changes into something
completely different than what you had intended?

Professor Moreland: I used to teach a class at the Maryland Institute.

Drawing from Inner Sources. A way to create something unexpected in the
process. Making an accident. A spill. A splatter. Taking what is suggested
to you from something completely arbitrary and then developing it into an
image. You can find things that are quite often unexpected.
I would have people work on a map or something. Create an image over
a map and let the map show halfway through the image. Do an image, turn
it upside down, do another image based off that and see what results from
that mix. Forcing the possibility of something surprising and unexpected. It’s
fun to do.

48 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 49

 Collections
Delaine Welch

A mazing the stuff, we collect. It does not seem like much until you have to
go through someone else’s belongings. The little notes she kept, the odd
receipt, clothes that did not fit. That she was waiting to get to the right size
to wear again. Photographs of a life and a lifetime that is not mine. I do not
think about the stuff I collect. I doubt any of us do. None of us think, wow,
someone will have to sift through everything about my life when I am gone.
Even if you prepare and have the time to go through it, how do you let go of
the children’s artwork when they were five? How do you let go of the
treasured book you read repeatedly or that sweatshirt that just feels so good
on your skin?
Her death has forced me to go through stuff. Both hers and mine. A life is
contained in the memories that are collected. The silly hats we bought to
wear on a holiday, the Halloween bin that had our special bucket for candy,
the flyers from all the plays we saw together. Ashes, hers, our dog and cat. Is
she still there in those ashes? The tears that she shed when the dog died.
Part of her heart broke. Regretting that I did not know how to ease her pain.
Her forgiving me. The doctor notes with all of the diagnosis. Do I keep
those? They were only a piece of who she was. I box things up. I give things
away. I know her and she would want someone to benefit from what she
cannot use. But the mementos, the key chain or silly cards. Those I am
unsure what to do.
Three years have passed. At first, I thought I could not breathe. For so long
I could not breathe and was walking underwater. I could not listen to my
children, would lose myself in my job. I stopped talking. She was not here to
listen. I did not know that I would breathe again. That I would laugh again and
Aapril Hope, Coffee- Photo

even love again. There are no words for those of us who have been broken.
We have a secret language among us those that have lost and grieved. A
society none of us wants to join but will all become a member of. I heard that
once you join, you would view the world differently. It was just speculation.
Seeing the world differently is an understatement. Nothing will ever be the
same again. That is okay. I have fought it. Every box I pack up now and
memories that visit me are like welcome friends. Making it bearable.
I know the day will come when it will not hurt as much and I will not
remember as much. I look forward and dread it.

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 To My Dance Partner
Xena Pagealiwangam
My palms get really sweaty and I might miss a beat
I might not maintain eye contact and just stare at your feet
My shyness will be evident when my face overheats
Just give me more time, don’t go back to your seat
I’ve rarely ever danced under a light such as this
All too familiar so I refuse when they insist
But something about you made it so hard to resist
Even through the fear, you’re a song I don’t want to miss
Like me, you said you haven’t danced a lot either
You said no one gave you the opportunity to be a good lover
Here, I give you my hand on this perfect spring weather
You and I, we’re in this dance together
So don’t give up on me now; it’s just the beginning
Dance with me some more and soon we’ll be grinning
These walls I have built are slowly disappearing
Let’s go through this together, help me realign my hearing
Paul Ruben, Lone- Drawing
52 Tuscarora Review 2019­
I almost forgot to mention—my dress is kinda heavy
It might be something that both of us would have to carry
Along the way, we may grow tired and weary
I just hope you don’t find this overwhelmingly scary
But if it’s too much for you, I’ll understand
The others too have dropped my hand
The baggage I carry, too hard to stand
They tripped on my dress then upped and ran
Afraid you’ll find it too heavy, I’ll bear most of the weight
My dress is something I’ve sewn myself anyway
I simply ask that you don’t harshly berate
When you notice my fingertips are scratched and scraped
And at times I’ll take it slow and might even leave to sit
My forehead might glisten and so might my upper lip
It’s nothing personal, really, I’m just terribly unfit
Please don’t get frustrated, let me give you a tip
I might get a little dizzy if you twirl me too fast
I’ll always try to keep up but I’m never sure how long I’ll last
So just sway me slow and look at me lovely
Touch my back and tell me I look pretty
And when I step on your toes, just chuckle and nudge me
Let’s work this song together, I’ll go wherever you take me
2019 Tuscarora Review 53
 Paul Ruben, Lone- Photo
54 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 55
 The Black Bag
Graham Shapiro

T he dark of night was penetrated by the flashing of red lights projecting

from the medical vehicle parked in the driveway of a small blue house.
The vehicle was driven to this house by a group of paramedics, now in the
backyard of the house. With the assistance of a scoop stretcher they were
performing a casualty lifting technique on a hefty black bag. They were
careful to maneuver past a large trampoline, its black netting sporting a
large amount of wear-and-tear. They continued to the top of the grassy hill
until they reached the point where the grass met the asphalt driveway.
The paramedics placed the stretcher onto the wheel-sporting ambulance
stretcher that sat waiting on the asphalt. After fastening the black bag and
its contents onto the ambulance stretcher, the paramedics stood still
and waited.
The screen door of the house opened slowly. A woman of forty-six years
stepped out onto the carport. She was closely followed by a young man of
fifteen years. Both of them were silent. Both of them had red eyes. The young
man stepped ahead of the woman, walking toward the stretcher. He stopped
when his feet reached the end of the concrete carport and met the black as-
phalt on which the stretcher with the black bag stood. The young man silently
stared at the black bag for three minutes. He stood there contemplating the
bag and what (or rather who) was inside it.
Memories flashed through his mind, corresponding with the flashing of the
medical vehicle. Saturday morning cartoons and grilled cheese sandwiches.
And her. Playing pretend in the backyard. With her. Entering the white halls of
a mental ward. To visit her.

Dre Docerson, Rough- Collage

The young man stood quite still, allowing these memories to flow through
him like a stream flows through the forest. The woman walked up behind him
and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Okay,” the young man said in a low voice as he turned around and
walked back to the screen door. He opened it and stepped back inside the
blue house followed by the woman. Once the two of them were inside, the
paramedics wheeled the stretcher to the open doors of the medical vehicle.
The stretcher was loaded on, the paramedics boarded, the doors closed, and
the vehicle drove away. However, the flashing red lights were now diminished,
leaving the blue house once again surrounded by the dark of night.

56 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 57

 About the Authors and Artists
Annick Djikounou: I started writing mostly poems. I liked the way I could
weave words and create so much depth in a small space with poems. After
that I wanted to try my hand at writing stories, because, honestly, I read a lot
of books and said, "Hey! I can do better than them." With years of practicing,
I became more comfortable with showing my work to other people. Now I've
learned to share them with whoever is willing to read it. And I think that's
what makes me a writer.
April Hopkins: lives in a household of five with her parents and two siblings.
Reading any amount of other “About the Author” pieces has not prepared
April for the experience of writing about herself at length in third person. She
had always assumed up until this point that an author’s “About the Author”
was written by a separate party, but this experience has suggested
otherwise. April has decided to believe this new truth as a result. April would
like to thank the reader for reading this and to let them know that they look
very beautiful today.
Grant Springer: Is a Frederick, Maryland resident and was a student in
Ramón Jones’s introduction to creative writing course in Fall 2018.
Draven Vasquez: Born on October 29th, 1999, he is the oldest of four
children and has grown up in Frederick, Maryland. Draven wrote his first story
when he was four years old, and since then, he has created many worlds.
His first real project he started at thirteen years old and has continued to
write many, many more. He is also a musician employed at Mountain View
Community Church as a Worship Intern, and a Psychology major at Frederick
Community College.
Delaine Welch: I am a mother, a teacher, dog-lover, reader, writer,
and friend.

Katherine Jones: I was born and raised in Frederick, Maryland. I love writing
and photography/film and one day hope to share my stories with the world
through these two forms. In the fall 2019, I will be attending Towson
University and studying Electronic Media and Film to continue my dream of
being a writer for TV/film.

Bryce Kelley: I was born and raised in Maryland. I am a student here at FCC
working towards an associate in General Studies. I really enjoy outdoor
activities like hiking and I play Dungeons & Dragons like a big nerd.

Jeanne McDermott: Local Frederick resident who teaches painting, art

history, and floral design at FCC and Frederick Senior Center. Originally an
English major.

Xena Pagealiwangan: I’m a graduating student from the Philippines. I’ve

always loved and love poetry.

Mathew West,man- Drawing

Kat Reyes: Daughter of a preacher, reading and writing has been something
that's always happening. I have always admired my father's way with words.
The way he weaves a sermon together and the hours he spends studying,
annotating, scratching out, rewriting. A sermon but woven together in the
same eloquence of a story. Always being a listener and reader, I recently
decided to explore my creative writing side.

58 Tuscarora Review 2019­ 2019 Tuscarora Review 59

 COLOPHON
This edition of the Tuscarora Review uses the fonts Heebo, and Franklin
Gothic. Heebo is a font mastered by Meir Sadan and it is used in the
headlines. Franklin Gothic was designed by Morris Benton, and it is used for
the body text
The magazine cover is printed on 80 pound Endurance Gloss Cover, the text
is printed on 60 pound Finch 94 Smooth White Offset paper..
Mathew West,Towers- Drawing

60 Tuscarora Review 2019­


7932 Opossumtown Pike
Frederick, Maryland 21702
www.frederick.edu
Contact: Ramón Jones
Phone: 301 629 7837
RAJones@frederick.edu
Elizabeth Burmaster, President

This magazine is free, please take one.

62 Tuscarora Review 2019­