"Making a Living" by Li Hollinger

Making a Living:
(from Our Fabled Feathered Friends )

Rocs were difficult to catch, tended to breed quickly, and were typically massively mammoth in stature – ironically they also tended to be hard to find. Fortunately for Quin, it wasn’t her job to locate the giant predatory birds, it wasn’t even her job to net them or to reel them in; her oh-so-delightful job was to be bait. Of course, being the only girl on board the great Augustine she was also awarded the respectable duties of cleaning, cooking and mending as well. But it was for the former of these jobs that she was roused out of her sleep on a particularly chilly night, which she didn’t recognize as Christmas Eve due to the lack of calendars on board ship, to go stand in her skivvies on deck without so much as a dagger for her own defense. Naturally, she was given no explanation for the disruption of her dreams, nor was she given an apology for the bruises she was sure to have on her arms tomorrow from being dragged up the ladder to the deck. Quin rubbed her eyes tiredly and wished for a blanket; the winds were hard tonight and the ship was higher than usual – she squinted her eyes over the side, but the moon was waning and it was too dim to see the passing clouds. She busied herself instead with watching overhead as the sailors swung from Mizzenmast to Foremast hoisting the net up so that it would be ready to drop over the bird…and Quin if she didn’t move fast enough.
“Meat!”
Despite herself Quin turned around. She hated being called meat, like she was as dispensable as a pork-chop. The Captain stood by the bowsprit as normal, where he would be out of harms way but able to watch over his crew to ensure their safety and efficiency. Quin didn’t blame him from his cowardice now, he had done his risking in his time as a sailor – though he still appeared as young as some of his crew. Truth be told, she would have loved to see some of the sailors or even the Captain himself take a turn as bait, but the job had to be done by a female, for a Roc would tear a man to shreds, but would only feast on the flesh of a maiden.
“Meat, do your exercises! If I have to sail all the way back to town to fetch me another wench I swear I’ll-“
‘Do what?’ she thought, with a little smile to herself. “Just admit it, you old softy, you’ve grown a bit fond of my stupid face, haven’t ye?” She watched as he shouted something back with a face shaded red in anger but it was lost as the wind picked up. The great, wooden vessel began to turn, and she watched as the sailors file into their positions from the jib boom to the spanker. ‘We must be getting close.’ She ran quickly through all her stretches and did a short breathing exercise to test her groggy lungs and then her time was up.
The Augustine broke through the clouds in a great flourish of water-stained sails and a great caw of fury split the night, setting everything around Quin in immediate motion. The sailors grew rowdy and seemed to practically hum with anticipation, fingering their slipknots with twitchy digits, the Captain scanned the sky for a glimpse of the bird through his night-vision eyeglass, and the meat just did her best to look edible and delicious. Minutes passed with painful seconds as more angry cries were heard - It was unusual for it to take this long. Rocs were animals of instinct, not intelligence, they usually attacked without hesitation.
“Here it comes, Red female! Capture, not kill!”
‘Damn!’ Quin thought, that made her job a hell of a lot harder. Killing could be done in seconds with cannons, sometimes before it even reached the ship; but capturing required dodging talons, sometimes for minutes before the sailors decided the bird was in the right spot to drop the net. The decision for which action to take was made based on the color, not the gender, Red Rocs were rare and could be sold to skinners or collectors for their feathers for a very high profit. Out of the corner of her left eye Quin caught a flash of sanguine and onyx and she threw herself to the deck, jarring her shoulder out of its socket. ‘Ouch.’ She allowed herself to pine internally as she swung to her feet again and dashed to the Hammock Netting, pulling her arm back into place with a wince as she ran. Over her head she saw one of the sailors give the other a ‘thumbs up’. ‘That’s my cue.’ She dropped her lithe body quickly through one of the holes in netting, toppling onto the floor below tiredly as the air rushed from her lungs; she watched breathlessly as the net dropped overhead and, in what seemed to be slow-motion as her breathing slowly returned to normal, the crew slowly began the process of reining the beast in. Shivering once more as the breeze of the door to the hold opening reminded her of the cold, Quin allowed herself a small triumphant smile as she began to struggle to her slightly bruised feet.
“Not bad tonight, we found a nest too. The eggs will be worth a small fortune at market.”
Quin sneered up at the captain with all the strength and rebellion she could muster through her exhaustion – and being too tired to think up anything witty or intelligent as a retort she just shuffled past him towards the door as the first rays of sunlight hit her face. “It’s morning now.” She muttered, under her breath.
“So it is,” she heard behind her, a voice softly amused, “Merry Christmas.”

"These Have I Loved" by Li Hollinger

These I have loved...

Drawing pictures in a steamed up windows, of hearts;
And names of those I love.
Running outside in my underwear when the first snow falls to make a snow angel,
Then dashing back inside to huddle under the covers.
Playing a videogame all the way through in one day, or three; not sleeping.
Brushing my teeth until my gums bleed.
Keeping inside jokes just between me and the people they mean something to.
Laughing at silly things.
Not being able to stop.
Using words other people don’t know – and not telling them what they mean.
Having an intelligent debate about something stupid, I could argue for hours.
Long books with small words;
And characters I can relate to.
Zombies.
Dreams that I know aren’t real.
Dreams that fool me.
Waking up to the smell of coffee already waiting for me.
Samantha.
A boy who thought he wasn’t human;
‘Till I proved him wrong.
Biting my nails until they bleed.
Walking a straight line until my legs ache, when the wind is pushing against me like a current.
People I can’t predict, and continue to surprise me no matter what.
Soft things.
The ‘tap’ing sound the keyboard makes when I type as quickly as I can.
Having another body beside me while I sleep – I like the warmth;
And the rhythm of a chest moving up and down against me.
Intensely over-reacting, only to realize how silly I was being later;
Then hating myself for it.
Being able to sit with someone for hours and talk, not minding if sometimes we run out of things to say.
Reciting quotes I don’t understand, and then mocking people for not getting them.
Houses with really high ceilings that make you feel small.
People who don’t think I’m weird when I sniff them.
Playing a movie in the background on my computer over and over
Until I can recite all the lines but have no idea what the actors look like.
Looking people in the eyes and not feeling like I’m going to vomit;
Or run away.
Bananas
When they’re still bright green.

"Life" by Meredith Lawson

Life

Life. It’s the life:
Cuddling with boys in scary movies;
Fresh words like grand, frunk and woovy.
Baton-twirling under stadium lighting;
Popcorn, fruit-snack, and Dorito biting.
The angle of James Franco’s jaw lines;
My hatred for those who whine.
Jack Johnson’s appealing voice;
My sister’s heroic traits and poise.
Big, warm hoodies and peacoats;
Spending a day at the beach making sand moats.
Cheeseburgers and fries, all mixed together;
Wearing a smile, no matter the weather.
Dances required for certain gangsturr tunes;
Itchy grass, lighted by a rising moon.
Embellishments such as sparkly headbands;
Old games like Twister and Candy Land.
Acoustic jams that recall what used to be;
Hula-Hooping on Dixie’s Wii.
Strawberry-flavored sunburn: “surprisingly Mer;”
Nicknames like Mercat, Merboo, and Merbear.
652 boys to keep track of;
Being oblivious to the feeling of love.
Taste of calzones hitting my tongue;
Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, being young.
101.9 radio station;
Trips to Alabama –the annual vacation.
Gaining energy from cheap Chinese food
Happy, hyper, and hopeful moods.
Slumbering more than I sleep
Making memories to keep.
Skipping school, faking sick;
Pink rzr’s with funny clicks.
Midnight snacks with bestfriends;
My crazy, curly hair flowing in the wind.
Brandon Cox, watching Auburn football with Dad
When they lose, screaming at the TV, being mad.
The excitement of twirling fire, even a knife;
My personality, my friends, It’s the good life!

"Winter's Delight" by Kevin Foley

Tracing the heavens
With crystals of ice
On stillborn moons
Of rapture’s delight

In fading December
With one kiss goodnight
In winter's embrace
Her gentle Reich

It’s so hard to breath
With her in my sight
That single kiss
Always on my mind