SURFACE: A Final Issue

Banana Press Kauai

A Banana Press Anthology, 2016

SURFACE: A Final Issue

Table of contents:

Maxwell Movaghar:

Depression in the Flowers

A Melody in Remorse

Gem’s Six Faces

Hills

Johan Jaeger

Midday

Sunset

The Color: Scarlet

Aspen Wolfgang:

Lost @ Sea

Geckos

The Color: Yellow
A Banshee

Julia Randolph-Flagg:

Digits

Dear Humans

Exonerated

An Exhale

Desolate Meadow
The Captive

THE WORK:

Maxwell Movaghar:

Depression in the Flowers

The bees whirled passed her in a swarm,

flying west with the combined strength of a mighty plane

She held her hands up to cover her face

waiting patiently, and still

With the consent of the last insect she looked up at the meadow

Not a mouse stirred

The flowers released their beautiful fragrance into the air

The sun set alight every single color throughout the vibrant green grass

Her dress felt heavy when her eyes set upon a depression in the flowers

she slowly trudged through the thick stems beneath her

A deer lie on the ground, mouth ajar, crushing the daisies

beside it sat her brother, murder in his eyes

and a satisfied smile on his lips

The silence filled the empty meadow

And she stared at her brother, in horror

A Melody in Remorse

The piano played harmonically

Tears stirred behind her eyes, but couldn’t see the light

The echo of water hitting the dirt was taking the background

Thunder sounded far away

The cool wind rustled her clothes, tugging away from her

Outside the grass swayed to the cloudy west

The thump of wood rung

He sliced at the wood with a sharp axe

The door creaked open, the sound of rain made a crescendo

He walked in, firewood in one hand, an axe stained with rain drops in the other

His eyes were hidden under the cloak’s visor

But a smirk lie beneath it

A familiar smile saying “what’s not to like?”

Her lips lifted in the form of painful happiness, as his hood lifted to his shining eyes

The piano’s mournful melody attracted his ears

He approached the instrument and watched its keys fall and rise in precision

His beam warmed the room, “Beautiful song, isn’t it?”

Water ran down her cheeks, “Yes, yes it is…”

He turned over his shoulder, “Why Mother’s favorite?”

Gem’s Six Faces

Passion is quite the amusing word

I suppose it’s all amusing to me

But passion comes in many shapes and sizes

I suppose one could say that

passion is like chocolate

People differ quite drastically as well

I suppose one could say that

People are like chocolate

But who has ever heard

of chocolates harboring chocolates?

A lamb is a beast bred for slaughter

Animals are dull, insignificant, imperfect

The only animal in my heart is the dog

that leads me to my prey

Dog’s are not smart, but they are guided

by the same force that guides myself

The force that leads me to the old, the sick, the young

To spread the crimson ashes of those who feed me

To feel the warm, bitter red fluids of my own or another's between my jaws

That is the feeling of true life!

The world is quite the judgmental one

A deed by one is not as appreciated as the

same deed done by another

To be thoughtful is to destine yourself for use as a stool

Perhaps this is my role given by God

Do I have the right to change it?

Or do I simply lack the power?

Either way, every river will go one direction

When presented, they go down.

I find humans much like puppets

They can be controlled, albeit with some minor coaxing

It can all be planned, futures can be mapped in such a small world

They want to be controlled, every one of them

They just don’t know it

The fools don’t even know when they’re being controlled

No matter to me, I will orchestrate their symphony

Watching them writhe in rage and agony

Nothing gives me more pleasure

That was a good one, you read that, you feel good

When I say it, you feel bad

What’s the difference, really?

Tone, compassion, the correct “emotional reaction”?

I talk how I want, when I want to

Haven’t done anything wrong, said anything rude

It’s how I say it that makes it rude?

Well it’s what you say that makes you look stupid.

A warmth in the chest

The feeling that forms a smile

In a world of troubles all we have is each other to stay above water

To confide in me is a bond taken seriously.

To help another is not for myself to feel better, not to look better

To help another is to truly be intelligent

It is what separates dolphins from sharks

ravens from pigeons, apes from tigers

True pain is the inability to indulge in this feeling

Hills

I hate those hills.

I love the path.

I loved going through there in school.

I love the park that lies at the end of it.

I love my neighbor who plays tennis by there.

I love what those hills meant to me

I love what those hills are to me

I hate that spot clear of brush

I hate how it is too small for three people

I hate the way you can see the sunset from there

I hate that it’s off the path

I hate the day I found that spot clear of brush on the rocky hills that meant so much to me

I love the girl I brought to that spot

I love the way she made me smile

I hate the way she made me feel

I miss the way she made me feel

I hate the day in that spot clear of brush on those hills in the sunset, when I was with that girl I hated to love.

The Story of Johan

Warning: Minor language use

Real Name: Johan Jaeger

Code Name: Tremor

Sex: M Height: 5’8

Hair: Brown Weight: 160 lbs

Eyes: Blue Status: Active

Powers: Violent molecular disruption through aerial vibrations,

Kinetic absorption, Thermokinesis when in contact

Johan felt a heavy blow on his back. “Damn it!” Johan turned and shot a powerful blast, only to tear apart a hillside. Johan quickly turned and grabbed an arm that was descending on him. Pulling the momentum he slammed a woman onto the floor. She was dark skinned and grabbed the dirt with two large feathery white wings. She held two assault rifles. Johan froze momentarily. There are more? Quickly she regained composure and took to the air. Johan blasted at her, but was a moment too late. She hit him again and landed on the floor about ten feet away. Each strike felt like being slammed by an iron chair. “The hell are you?” Johan grumbled.  

The woman eyed him ferociously, “More human than you’ll ever be.” She leapt into the air and was gone. Johan searched for her in the sky, but found nothing.

“Fine then, personally, I’d like to keep you. You are intriguing beyond my understanding, much like myself, I suppose. But sadly, it seems I must educate you on my laws.” Johan shot powerful vibrations through the air. Flailing his arms wildly through the sky, until something stabbed his back. His gaze turned to see the women again, realizing her uniform donned a white belly and a brown back. Blood welled from the wound she landed on him, and he stumbled onto the floor slowly. Eyes in shock, Johan brought his gaze up to the winged women in rage.

“I have nothing to learn from scum like you, American. Consider this vengeance on behalf of my fallen comrades” Her voice was cold and unforgiving.

Johan laughed in a coughing sputter. “Comrades? You are a monster, girl. That is all they consider you. A dog they sent into war. You are your country’s bitch, but not me.”

She pulled her finger down on the trigger of her revolver. “Keep talking, see what happens.”

Johan laughed frantically. “You’re going to shoot me? As if. They want me alive, and you’ll do whatever they tell you.”

She grunted angrily. “If you’re so keen on bringing it up, what do you want out of this, monster?”

Johan snorted. “As if you don’t know. I want to liberate your people.”

“By bringing down their houses and tearing them apart!”

“Why, yes. Life is nothing but consistent pain for so many people. No one wants to live hungry, on the streets, or with a single arm. Countries in anarchy force women and children to do jobs men die from. We are all on a one way train to Hell. Isn’t that undoubtedly true...Let’s say I liberate four billion people.” The woman fliched, but did not release the trigger. “But I only dispose of the ones that won’t serve any purpose in society, that have no purpose in living. If I were to, our world will be sustained a hundred times longer than the current estimate. I’m the hero you don’t want, but need.”

“You are insane, and my country will be proud to know the sinful banshee died at the hands of the mighty Heron.” The shout of the gun swarmed the air, and Johan could see the fire of each one. Tens of bullets struck him while he was already lying on the floor. Heron grunted. “I fear no monster.”

The dust cleared and Johan rose from the blood splattered dirt, wiping his jaw. “I don’t know what this banshee nonsense is about, but the name’s Tremor.”

Heron howled. “No! That’s impossible!” Before she could fully take flight, Johan shot for her leg and tore open a large cavity. From the blood raining and sound of her screams, Johan lifted his arms to his chest and aimed for Heron, and released them down in an x shape, shooting towards the world in front of him.

A loud thud bore into Johan’s ears. Success. He strolled up to the bleeding women and sat down beside her. Her left wing was wilted and unmoving, blood welling out of it. He had to yell to make sure she could hear him over her sobs. “Do you feel that? Isn’t it wonderful. That terrible feeling of loss and pain, overtaking all other emotions. People live in that. Do you understand, girl? People are doomed to feel this feeling you have for their entire pathetic mortal lives.” Johan turned to face Heron and put his thumb and index on her cheeks, pulling her ear to his lips. “Tell me, girl. Tell me you want me to end this pain.”

The women only screamed and shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

Johan chuckled and rose off the floor walking away from the Heron. He shouted to her, “You cannot trust mere men with their own fate. It is too fragile, now feel the relief of being set free.” Johan turned and shot a vibration at Heron, her body splattering like a crushed fly.

Johan turned on his luckily surviving communicator. “Pick me up, Jason. The battle is over.”

His voice came through broken. “What took you so long! What the hell did you do! I swear Tremor if you killed any civilians you have screwed both of us!”

“Relax, it took a bit longer than expected, is all. I didn’t kill any civilians, will you just pick me up.”

Midday

She stands in a large town

All the new smells and sounds unsettle her

Her father’s warm hand keeps her from getting lost in the sea of people

Guiding her to somewhere safe, she is sure of it

He squeezes and releases her hand over and over in a familiar rhythmic pattern

She beams and mimics him like she always does, until it hurt and she gives up trying

Suddenly the walk comes to an abrupt end in front of a bar-like building

She feels her father’s hand melt away

He stares at the sign on the head of the structure

He takes a few steps forward with the girl strutting beside him

She startles when he puts his hand to her stomach

“Stay here,” he says softly, “I’ll be right back.”

She stares after her father as he walks into the bar

His every footstep making her shiver

“Daddy?” She calls after him. But he doesn’t turn around. Please be okay...

He steps slowly into a room with a grin scarred deep in his face

He’s never looked so much like his son

The girl turns away from the building and sits down silently, waiting for her father to return

She waits, and waits, and wait some more. Waiting for her father to appear from the doors, take her hand and squeeze it as they waltz down the street.

The sea of people dissipates into several streams

The sun nearly falls beneath a shop when the bar booms

The girl hears screams from the inside. “He’s a monster!”, “Run!”...Please be okay

She brings her gaze down to her shoes and frowns

Suddenly her body is blasted off her seat and onto the tough boulevard asphalt

From the building her father emerges and flames dance with him

The ceiling raining down around him in nimble pieces and laden wedges

He plucks her from the ground and dusts her off

His strong arms a cradle she wishes she could go back to

It hurts...She tried to hold the tears back, but they still managed

He brought his mouth close to her ear “I’m sorry.”

Sunset

An hour past the sun’s disappearance on the horizon

Buzzing in my heart races, excitement

Music roars with lights dancing

My friends sway to the beat of their partner

I see her, the flower of my dreams and nightmares

But my hand may not make contact with her face

The man in my pass walks through me

The bedroom fan wipes off sweat

The Color: Scarlet

Drip.

Down from the heavens the first rain falls

Drip.

The booming thunder sounds from above

Drop.

A roaring howl across the field

Splash.

Yet no lightning strikes.

Drip.

Another life taken in this cruel world

Drip.

Another companion stolen away by the rushing fluid

Drop..

Not a soul will turn to see him, they keep moving

Splash..

Not a soul will stray from the queen’s will

Drip..

Not a soul will turn back for his body

Drip.

Not a soul will remember what he gave.

Drop..

When titans clash, it’s best to be invisible

Splash.

Boom.

Aspen Wolfgang:

Lost @ Sea

He thinks about his newborn son, twin daughters,

realizing, he may never go back.

He breathes but the regulator cuts off his source,

he needs the buoyancy control device

But the bcd is shrinking

he is sinking,

The spare air system waits for him.

He finds it, takes a breath as his dive-buddy floats,

stares at him feeling bubbles start to soften.

hope is lost.

they notice that they are at a half a tank,

floating in an ocean a deeper blue than any color the sky could bear

I see double dots in the middle of this screen. They are reaching for each other because the one dot is having a blackout and he knows it. He's breathing harder starting to feel dizzy and

spots everywhere.

he shakes his head to wake up.

taking another breath his bcd fills up

On the floor of the ocean, his blanket moves as his wife moves.

As he sinks into the bed, the silt kicks up and distracts him.

little octagon-ish light beams flutter across his face

the whale above takes in plankton.

vibrations make him panic; the alarm goes off.

Water leaks a bit into his mouth,

morning coffee,

and hears the laugh of his children running down the stairs.

The merman smiles at him as he

grabs car keys, garage door opens,

boat passes through.

His head tilts

he feels the octopus tubing on his neck,

whales breach across his mask.

Breathing gets softer and softer.

He laughs, kissing his children, and mermaid wife goodbye.

Geckos

The small snake of the grass

The docile creature of walls

Seen and feared for no reason

Blending to the world enclosing them

They too starve

though they find bugs in the window sill

They too fear

Maybe its the strong vibrations

The warm embrace of sun finds them

and they soak it in

Tiny feet suspend slender bodies

Their home, our home or the foliage towering above,

and below them a damp and loamy surface.

The Color Yellow

Yellow.

is a horrible color.

Though it looks good on flowers.

I have four yellow shirts.

I hate them.

Unlike flowers, yellow does not look good on me.

Yellow on me --

yuck.

Yuck yellow.

Some things have to be yellow.

like bananas.

Bananas wouldn't look good any other color,

Especially black and blue.

I do not touch bananas when they're bruised.

It's as if they are used

or have been eaten by worms.

Time wilts bananas.

Time makes bananas mushy

and spotted -- 

so unappealing.

Hazard signs

Caution signs

are yellow. They need to be.

Stay away.

d Day

I have a tendency to blurt out,

say things i don't mean, shriek,

knee-jerk laugh -- and it’s loud.

Really loud.

People stare at me. They take it wrong.

I can say that the leader is leading.

I need help, but am reminded

by other thoughts

that not everyone

means what they say

or maintains. Still

I'm definitely not proud of my behavior

But I am reining in so much

You don’t know

Tomorrow

I’ll get back to faking happiness.

Julia Randolph-Flagg:

Dark Digits

He pats her head condescendingly

“there, there” murmuring faults into her ear

tracing tight circles on her back

long delicate fingers belonging to death

as if choosing the place to insert the knife

Dear humans,

You call us Bellis Perennis,

A weed. Do you know

how hurtful that is, how that four

letter word gives us a bad rep.

Yes, we like to unite

a noble enough pursuit.

we may not be much

all by ourselves, such as

the great rose

or perhaps the bird of paradise

but there are many of us

does that make is okay

to disseminate poison, leaving only

those you deem worthy?

Obviously you haven’t hiked to a meadow

and been rewarded with

a field of our sunny centers and

snowy petals glistening in the

sun. Or how the children bend

hands full of our sturdy stalks

with a grin stretched across

their young faces, how our petals

are plucked to determine if he

loves you? we are innocent

our purity is the most basic form

the clandestine kisses, the blushed cheeks

hidden in our masses.

Exonerated

Unscrewing the toothpaste squeezing the last bit out,

rolling from the bottom until a tubular extrusion

lies on the bristles he starts

from the bottom left molars with vigor,

half closing his heavy eyes,

he runs the rough fibers over and over

up, down, right, left. washing away all the detritus, and the day.

Scrubbing until his gums ache

washing away his bitten back and regretful words,

until the muscles in his face loosen and his angles soften,

and he sees the white foam

bending down to scoop the cool water into his mouth swirl, and spit.

An Exhale

Frantic breathing, rapid heart

the mouse scurries with a start

languid movement, evil hiss

to live in fear of death’s kiss

Its body moves like running oil

tensing, turning, tightly coiled

tongue darts out in anticipation

beady eyes look with fixation

hurry little mouse don’t get caught

run into that vacant lot

hissss, a blur of movement

reflexes with no room for improvement

the snake strikes, mouth agape

flesh gives like a grape

There is a gulp, a shiver

a warm breeze from the river

the snake slithers on

moving each scale away from the dawn.

Desolate Meadow

There is beauty in flowers and abundance.

There is also beauty in the lack

of life, of color.

There is splendor in the way deserts

extend on forever,

the lazy way

that the scenery breathes.

The eerie silence during the day

and the steady hum at night.

Bright yellow globes peeking from the dark

wild calls pierce the atmosphere

the feeling of exposure to the elements

no shelter.

The moon makes her presence

giant, luminous body, glowing.

her scars and grooves reminding the world

just how much she has seen, how old

the earth and moon have kept each other

company.

and when she sinks below the horizon

The mighty sun comes blazing in glory

sweeping the slopes of ground

and the world turns

gold, gold, gold.

The Captive

The tiny metal gate slowly creaks open

revealing a paw sure footedly stepping into the lush forest

the first time in months

amber contrasting with the emerald green

beneath its mighty claws

The lion walks out with a ballerina's grace

despite his massive size, muscles rolling

before dipping down in a house-cat stretch

his back a slope of golden wheat

his eyes the color of Mars

seemingly just as old, as if he too watched

the rise and fall of empires.

Editorial Positions:

Chief Editor:  Maxwell Movaghar
Assistant Editor:  Aspen Wolfgang
Art Editor:  Juilia Randolf-Flagg
Assistant Art Editor:  Aspen Wolfgang
Layout and Design:  Julia Randolf-Flagg
Copy Editor:  Maxwell Movaghar

BIOGRAPHIES:

_________________________________

ASPEN:

Max is the deepest, darkest color of purple you have ever seen...but in the good way. He is so funny and amazing with his little voice performances.

Julia is so pretty, so talented. Yet so amazing with her writing it's upsetting. She is like a big sister to me, I love looking up to her and being her friend.

Nikki is so cool. She gives us chocolate things and she deals with all out crazy days and crazy moods. She is so calm and keeps us zen when we are cray yet she is cray sometimes too! She is just a kid at heart <3 Love her so much!  

***

JULIA:

Max is a comedian and has a dark sense of humor while still being kind and making sure that he supports everyone he cares about. He is a fantastic writer and has tremendous talent.

Aspen is sweet and bubbly, she brings energy wherever she goes. She tends to have music playing and a way with people, allowing her to bring people together.

Ms. Nikki is one of the most genuine people I know, and seems like she stepped off a flight from Paris. She is always wanting to guide and support others in the hopes of them finding their strengths.

***

MAX:

Aspen --

Loud, Passionate, New

Aspen joined our class very unskilled and alone, but since she has improved exponentially as a writer and grown as a part of our class.

Julia --

Veteran, Talented, Badass

Julia also came in pretty shy, but was not afraid to share her amazing skill at writing. She too has become a great part of our small band as a strange medium between Max and Aspen’s conflicting personalities.

Nikki --

Kind, Encouraging, Wise

Nikki Girl is one of the best teacher I’ve ever had. She encourages writing and helps those who are struggling. Even though she was presented a small class with little synergy, she pulled through and got a lot of great pieces

***
Teacher --

Max, Julia, and Aspen work together like a pack of wild dogs, snarling and biting, making each other stronger writers every time they meet. "Surface" is the product of myriad exchanges that remind me what it means to work with incredible, creative, young people. Max gives the brutal truth while splitting our sides. Julia smooths all our edges. And Aspen, in all her capricious exuberance, adds zaniness. No better mix of wild and tame has ever come from nature.