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Opus
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Table of Contents
Opening Page.............Pg. 1
Table of Contents.............Pg. 2
Table of Contents.............Pg. 3
Brian Sykes and Haley Simone.............Pg. 4
Regina Clark and Ian Rigg..............Pg. 5
Jamie Hasty...............Pg. 6
Rashena J. Walker...............Pg. 7
Alyssa Dunn..............Pg. 8
Brennan Weaver and Lindsey Surin..............Pg. 9
Jeanne Sullivan...........Pg. 10
Jeanne Sullivan Continued...........Pg. 11
Frankie and Edmund Grant...........Pg. 12
Jamie Hasty...........Pg. 13
Lauren Budziak..........Pg. 14
Ken Zochowski and Brian Sykes..........Pg. 15
Rashena J. Walker..........Pg. 16
Eva Kowalczyk and Megan Panella..........Pg. 17
Brittany Ciboski..........Pg. 18
Jeanne Sullivan..........Pg. 19
Claire Gazdziak and Tom Rohlf..........Pg. 20
Arriel Lockett and Matt Ferguson.........Pg. 21
Brittany Ciboski.........Pg. 22
Briand Sykes.........Pg. 23
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Haley Simone.........Pg. 24
Ian Rigg and Sara Writer.........Pg. 25
Jeanne Sullivan........Pg. 26
Muhammad Zeekyra and Alyssa Dunn........Pg. 27
Amanda Novak........Pg. 28-35
Megan Penella........Pg. 36
Jason Gatuz and Matt Krakowski........Pg. 37
Rosie Red Charles........Pg. 38-39
Molly Grupka........Pg. 40-41
Danyelle Meyer........Pg. 42-44
Tom Rohlf and Arriel Lockett........Pg. 45
Alyssa Dunn and Haley Simone........Pg. 46
Alyssa Dunn........Pg. 47
Tommy Horton........Pg. 48-49
Haley Simone........Pg. 50
Dan Piscotti and Lindsey Surin........Pg. 51
Marie Hackert.........Pg. 52
Elizabeth Bennet and Brennan Weaver........Pg. 53
Erica Hernandez........Pg. 54
Jeanne Sullivan........Pg. 55
Contributions........Pg. 56

4
Brian Sykes-Poisonous World
Haley Simone-Red Fog
5
Regina Clark-Moonlight and Shadow
Ian Rigg-The Doctor is In
6
LaSalle Street Station
Jamie Hasty
Track eight,
track seven
All the trains are gone,
and Im alone, sitting in a station.
The echo of near-human,
mechanized voices,
flying through the emptiness and
pervading my senses,
emphasizes my loneliness and
defiles my consciousness.
In all this city,
my need is solitary,
unshared by millions.
The roar of machines
is nothing but white noise here
and her perfect,
echoing voice is inescapable.
The son is sinking,
and Im waiting for my lifeguard,
come to save my carelessness
from drowning in a sea of life,
one that grows from
seperateness to unity,
consuming entire entities like me.
It is the way it is,
and every person is simultaneously
a friend and foe;
as they pass I chance a
glance at their shadows cast,
growing longer and
disappearing in the descending darkness.
7
Recession
Rashena J. Walker
Suffering, crying, lost, no affection.
Constantly searching for jobs,
but all you receive is rejection.
Lost of cars, lives, homes, & kids.
Every thing you once owned are now up for bid.
People are killing, stealing, and looking for ways
to survive.
No motivation, no ambition, nothing to give them a drive.
Everyone is searching for the easy way out.
People are loosing faith and gaining more doubt.
Starving children, more homeless,
lost of dignity and respect.
Fathers are leaving mothers, mothers leaving
children, just a lot of neglect.
People are going crazy and losing their minds.
Suicides and murders of people you thought were just fine.
Bankruptcy, bills, up to the skies.
The Government is steady telling and living in lies.
People being dropped from all government funds.
Houses are getting left for fore closure, & to burn.
Having no job leads to no medical insurance, leaving one
free clinic packed.
Everything that people thought they had, they now lack.
Depression, pain, hurt, and fears
Lonely cries, no remorse, leave the world in tears.
Bad management, wrong priorities, plans gone all wrong.
This miserable recession has lasted for way, way, to long.

8
Crazy World
Alyssa Dunn
Im crazy
That I know, and think you know.
Yet, in reality no one knows.
Sometimes not even us.
Like covert operations.
Awaken with laughter
Our very own sitcom,
Which is most always a high time.
But, on occasion
It can all be very hermetic.
Many thoughts,
A fawless circuit.
Conversing in complete darkness,
Voiceless.
Twilight seems to be my favorite time
The afterglow of the aurora,
Brings me delirium.
But, since
things are the way they are
There is a spectrum of contingencies.
Not one I like
But one that needs to be.
An animus
Predicament
If only we lived
in a defectless world.
With out such delicate situations.
My thoughts
Could be turned
Into a blissful discussion.
Day in and day out.
The unknown makes me more
Inquisitive.
But, only the riddler can see the future
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Brennan Weaver-Perplexed Minds
Lindsey Surin-Blue Butterfy
10
I Cant Stop
Jeanne Sullivan
ere arent many people walking around who have killed 57
people. Maybe soldiers. And of course serial killers. But 57 is a
pretty high number even for a serial killer. Sometimes I wonder
if I would be considered a serial killer. I have killed 57 people,
and Ive repeated that action 56 times. Will I do it again? I
hope not, but it seems unavoidable. No, of course I dont want
to kill people. I dont like doing it, but I cant stop. ats really
what it comes down to. I cant stop. People dont realize that.
ey think they can outrun me. ey always try, and thats
what gets them killed. I cant stop. Men, women, children,
dogsIve killed them all. People ask me how I live with kill-
ing 57 people. How do I sleep at night? I try not to think about
it. If I think too much I wont be able to go on. I take medicine
at night to stop my dreams because thats where I see them. I
see who they used to be and what has become of them. I dont
dream anymore.
Sure, I have a family. I have a mother, a father, and a
sister. I love them and they love me even though Ive killed 57
people. Yes, they know all about it, and so do you. Its always
on the news when there is another accident. When an acci-
dent happens my family calls me to see how Im doing.
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ey worry about me. ey listen to my story and they sympa-
thize. ey know I cant stop. My wife never makes me feel bad
about the accidents. She understands I cant stop.
Do I look like someone who kills people? Im not sure
what a person like that looks like. We see pictures of people
being led out of courtrooms and we say they look like killers.
We say we can tell just by looking at them. But before we knew
what they did, they were just people like us.ey had families
and jobs. ey walked right past you everyday. I look like a
regular guy.
ey call me Styx. Maybe its because I have long,
skinny legs. Maybe its because I used to play hockey in high
school. Maybe its because of that river they talk about in
books. For the last 30 years I have driven the train. I take thou-
sands of people to and from work, school and home everyday.
Sometimes those gates go down and people think they can get
around. ey think they can beat the odds, and they can out-
run the train. But what they dont understand is I cant stop.

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Franky Cruz-Untitled
Edmund Grant-Cellar Escape
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Indulgences & Absolution
Jamie Hasty
In everyday mundanity,
the key to sanity
isnt belief or upkeep,
but release,
the relief of rejection
and escape from perfection.
Its the choice in your sin,
and the taste of its poison.
Cutting nerves (no knives needed!)
and reveling in life, unimpeded
by technicalities like time and space
allow yourself to drown
in her overwhelming embrace.
The warmest blanket,
the softest sleep,
I give you now my soul to keep.

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Lauren Budziak-Untitled
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Ken Zochowski-Aftermath of The Summer
Brian Sykes-Morning
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Innocent
Rashena J. Walker
Innocent souls lost in the wind.
If only they could be giving one more chance.
Getting dressed, all ready for school.
Smiling all the way to the bus not knowing what
they are running into.
Singing, reading, playing, and having fun.
Living their innocent lives, no wrong, found in none.
Our future, our creations, and the ones we suppose to love.
Were turned into angels now fying with doves.
We wonder why they get taken so young.
In such a violent way that left our hearts numb.
By some one who was mentally ill.
Who own mother and family couldnt even tell.
Not knowing what he was capable of.
Murdering those children and sending them up above.
Taking innocent children, and people lives.
Children, mothers, and some people wives.
No locks, no alarms, to keep this man out.
All you can imagine is the screams, and children shout.
No one there to spare these children one more chance.
To young to fght back, left with blood all over their hands.
Lost, confused, and unaware.
Leaving this horrible scene that no one could bare.
Coward took all of these people lives, hopes, and dreams.
Than killed himself so he wouldnt have to face what
was up the stream.
Death penalty, tortured, and hated by the world.
All because he took the lives of people innocent
boys, and girls.
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Eva Kowalczyk-Hand in Nature
Megan Panella-Untitled
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The Remedy is Worse
Than the Disease
Brittany Ciboski
I turn to face my enemy,
And he regards me with cruel amusement,
Holding me captive in my own reflection.
Are you so surprised, my queen?
My hands turn to stone.
They are cold against the rotting flesh
That falls from my face.
A whisper escapes my cracked lips:
I thought you loved me.
I suddenly long to
Scratch and blacken out the filthy outside
With the ink that wells up in the tiny crevices,
Orifices weeping out slick words,
The slippery loathing of self
That writhes and breeds in the filthy inside,
And eats away at my entrails like a sickness.
I know no cure; I do not seek one.

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We sit outside on the patio. We have watched the sun
bashfully hide its smile from the Earth for another day.
We enjoy a cocktail, and sit together staring into the spar-
kling sky above us. All is quiet except for a few crickets
performing their final serenades. My love turns to me and
says, I dont want to say, bless you anymore.
Do you mean to me, or to anyone?
Anybody. It really is silly. Why are we all still saying
it to each other? To strangers, to anybody. Frankly, its
ridiculous.
I guess its just a nice thing we do for each other. A habit,
I guess. Why do you think its ridiculous?
Well, we have all witnessed a sneeze, and the devil has
never entered someone as they were sneezing. Its never
happened. If I dont say, bless you, no one is suddenly
overtaken by an evil spirit.
I suppose youre right. Ill tell what, you dont have to
say it to me anymore. I know you dont want anything bad
to happen to me, so it will just be understood. And I will
stop saying it to you as well. But if an evil spirit does get
in, you cant blame me.
Its a deal. I will not hold you responsible for any evil
sneezes.
Minutes pass as we sip the last of our drinks, and enjoy the
last moments of the weekend together. We hold hands for
a moment, as we watch the lightning bugs shine on to their
warm homes. AH-CHOO!
Bless You.
Thank you.
The Sneeze
Jeanne Sullivan
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Tom Rohlf-Fallen
Claire Gazdziak-Blow Away
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Matt Ferguson-Iguana
Arriel Locket-Museum Eagle
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Swastika eyes
And your Chelsea grin,
Whip out your loathing so
That you may ram it gradually deeper, deeper
Down my throat.
The oxygen flees my body
And I choke.
Your award-winning smile grows wider
As your manly elixir
Slithers out and Nazi emblems
Sparkle in the candlelight.
herr, herr,
You are my one and only master.
I am fully conquered,
An SS whore fit for chopping up
And shoveling into the hellfire heap
Along with your other toys,
Plastic bimbos with great legs
Spread wide and mouths ready
To go in the perpetual o position,
Aryan blue orbs rolling blankly into the
Backs of their towheads.
herr, herr, you are my one and only master,
they whisper.
Every Woman Adores A Fascist
Brittany Ciboski
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Brain Sykes-Black and White Garden
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Haley Simone-Sunfowers
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Sara Witek-Colorful Horizon
Ian Rigg- How to Stop an Exploding Man
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The Whistler
Jeanne Sullivan
A Man stands on a street corner. He is waiting. Standing.
Another man approaches whistling, Yankee Doodle Dan-
dy. He is waiting. Whistling.
The Man glances at The Whistler and resumes waiting.
Could you stop that whistling?
The Whistler laughs, You dont like this song?
No answer.
Waiting. Standing. Whistling.
Im not gonna ask you again, could you stop
that whistling?
Hey, pal, you gotta lighten up
The Whistler falls to the ground in a heap, lips still pursed
in a silent whistle. He never saw it coming even though
the piece of lead entered just under his eye,
through his cheekbone.
The flow of red always calmed The Man. The parting of
the Red Sea, he thought. A path to salvation. Like the
sweet hibiscus slowly spreading its arms to embrace the
world. The Man laughed to himself as he thought about
what a great poet he could have been.
Time to go. Theres somewhere else to wait, stand.
The Man stepped around The Whistler as to not disturb his
poetry in progress.
I told you to stop that whistling.
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Muhammad Zeekyra- Wavy Shangrila
Alyssa Dunn-Functioning Self
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As The Ghosts of You
Hang Over My Bed
Amanda Novak
Eerion and Stephan walked down the dark streets of Chicago,
listening to the wind whistling past frozen trees and crinkled
grass. They were silent, opting to use their energy towards
making it to Luiss house than mindlessly chattering down the
dark blocks. Eerion took this silence as an opportunity to think;
he and Stephan had spent the past weeks dodging looters, hud-
dling in broken down apartments for some hours of rest, acting
in impulse more than thought. This silence gave him time to
think about everything that had happed in three short weeks.
California and New York were gone, pulled to the bottom of
the ocean like sinking ships. The sun had burned out unexpect-
edly, leaving them in total darkness except for the moon. The
moon had shifted its path and settled too close to Earth, causing
the tides to take out most of the islands and stagnant countries
around the globe. Eerion hadnt even thought about what was
yet to come. He looked at Stephan, watching the other man
blow into his hands and rubbed them together furiously. Ee-
rion saw it as wasted effort; everything, including their breath,
screamed cold. Everything screamed despair, frozen apocalyp-
tic despair.
Eerion felt like a life raft balancing on the ocean, fow-
ing with the lap and sway of the blue waves. Drifting with ev-
erything around him, searching for something to grasp in their
frenzied state of events. Eerion acted on impulse, but refected
on the chilling reality among him. He was lost, just like Chi-
cago. Just like the country, and everything else settling in the
globe. His body called for survival, and his thoughts begged for
a place to rest. A place to settle from the swirling chaos of the
ocean around him.
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Stephan placed an arm around Eerion, catching the
wandering boy before he missed the turn on Anderson Street.
'One-nine-fve. zero-six? Stephan asked, glancing down
Anderson Street. The once beautiful, arboreal front lawns of
Anderson Street were littered with glass and debris. Cars had
been turned over; houses had been burnt down and crumbled
from the damage. The welcoming neighbor had joined the rest
of the dark, depleting world, and Eerion shivered at the sight.
Even looking at it chilled him to his bones, causing him to jerk
under Stephans arm. Yeah. Thats it.
Are you nervous?Stephan asked. Eerion looked at
him, an expressionless look falling over his face. Really?
Eerion murmured.
Stephan studied Eerions face, glancing for a sign of
emotion, before he turned and pulled Eerion with him. OK.
Eerions only request, before he died, had been to see his father
one last time. He wanted to make amends with the man who
was never there. That way Eerion had said one night, both
men sitting close together in a vacant building, watching loot-
ers wreck a 7-11 across the street, I can go peacefully. I dont
want to leave with regret.
And Stephan had taken it upon himself to get Eerion
there in one piece. Eerion had insisted the statement was made
in passing; he was tired, emotionally drained, falling from an
adrenaline rush from the morning before. He really didnt need
to see his father. But Stephen knew Eerion better than that;
they had been together long enough for Stephan to know when
Eerion was throwing thoughts to the wind, and when Eerion
was talking from the heart. And his wish was something he felt
from the heart.
Eerion stepped over crumbled cinder blocks and house
ruins, grabbing Stephan`s arm from time to time to fnd his bal-
ance. He glanced around instinctively; after weeks of dodging
looters with knives, thieves with guns and, in one case, a nutjob
who had restored to eating people, Eerions wasnt taking any
chances. Stephan glanced around with him, his teeth chattering
in the cold.
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The house was near the opening to the street, and it
wasnt long until Eerion and Stephan found themselves outside
of Luis LEsparzes house. The windows had been blown in,
and the oak front door had been snapped clean off the hinges
and thrown into the front lawn. Eerion pulled away from
Stephan and bounded up the door, frantic. Well, at least I got
something out of you. Stephan mumbled to himself, following
Eerion up the steps and into the house.
Eerion launched himself into the living room, tripping
over a fallen glass cabinet. He landed hands frst, yelping at
the pain in his hands. SHIT! Eerion snapped, glancing at his
sliced up hands. Blood started to form around the glass, glow-
ing with the clear shards painfully poking into Eerion skin.
Stephan rushed to pull him up, grabbed his wrist to examine
the damage to his hands. He started to gently pick the glass out,
receiving a backhanded smack in the face. Dont touch it!
Eerion whined. Stephan stared at Eerion, trying to process the
fact that he was just backhanded. Then his face screwed up into
a grin. Are you kidding me, Eerion? Its just glass.
It hurts, Stephan! Eerion said, trying to pull the
shards from his hand. He squeaked on a particularly deep one,
ficking the glass to the ground and starting on a new piece
when it cleared the skin. You didnt bitch this much when that
lady stabbed you.
Stephan laughed, Eerion LEsparzes, able to take a
stab to the thigh without any problems; bitches like a baby
when he gets scraped by glass.
Oh, bite me, Stephan. Eerion snapped, squeaking as
he pulled another shard from his hand. Stephan chuckled and
walked over towards Eerion, stepping over the fallen glass cab-
inet. The living room was trashed, along with the conjoining
dining room. Stephan passed through the threshold connect-
ing the rooms and glanced into the kitchen, taking in the burnt
remains of the yellow walls. Do you think he left?Stephan
murmured, looking towards Eerion. Eerion, still pulling the
glass from his hands in the living room, shrugged. Maybe
we should leave. Eerion said authoritatively, throwing some
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more glass onto the foor below him. Stephan looked back and
sighed, He might be here, you know. Hell, he might be hiding
after all the noise you made coming in.
Eerion shot him a dangerous look, and then went back
to his picking. He shook his hands frantically when he was
done, brushing them to his sides. OK, Im done. He mur-
mured. Stephan turned from the kitchen and walked back to
Eerion, pushing him towards the kitchen. Lets check up-
stairs. Eerion and Stephan brushed through the debris-flled
kitchen and up the stairs, Stephan leading them up. The hall-
way was pitch black and eerily silent. Eerion and Stephan
looked at each other, breathed deeply and pushed on down the
hallway, nervously awaiting some attack from the darkness
lingering in front. Stephan pushed his hand in front of him and
searched the wall to the left of him, a small sigh of relief
escaping him when his hand landed on a doorknob.
Wanna try here?
Yeah. Its a spare room. Eerion said. He tried map-
ping out the layout from his memories, but the present images
seemed to be obscuring his thoughts. He was sure this was the
guest room with the ugly fower wallpaper. And when Stephan
opened the door, he smiled. Even in the darkness, he could
make out the ugly lavender poesies outlined against yellow
stripes. Stephan glanced into the room. Luis?
Nothing stirred in the room. The silence buzzed around
them, and Eerion pulled passed Stephan into the space. He
ripped open the closet door and glanced into the tiny space,
looking for his father. He overturned bed sheets, his shoulders
drooping when he came up with nothing. Wanna keep going?
Stephan asked sympathetically, wrapping his arm around Ee-
rions shoulders when he returned to the doorway. Eerion nod-
ded sadly. 'If I fnd his body, I`m never forgiving you. Eerion
murmured. Stephan hugged him and murmured back,
I know.
The next door Stephan tried led to a pink tiled bathroom
with psychedelic orange walls. Stephan sighed. Youre dad
never really had an eye for interior design, did he? he dead-
32
panned, causing Eerion to chuckle slightly. It is an ugly old
house, isnt it? My dad kept it the way it was from the seven-
ties.
Oh, I can tell. Stephan said, The dirty shag carpeting
says it all.
Eerion pulled the shower curtain to the side of the wall and
sighed. Nothing. And empty tub. His nerves bounced around in
his stomach. Something was telling him his dad was dead. And
sooner or later, he was going to have to uncover the body. And
sooner or later, he was going to have to deal with the fact that
he would die. And he would have to die with the fact that he
never made peace with his dad.
Come on, lets keep looking. We have too more
rooms. Eerion murmured, pushing past Stephan. Stephan nod-
ded and followed behind him, letting Eerion lead the way down
the hall. Eerion swung open a door leading to a small broom
closet. The bottom was buried under a collection of fallen jack-
ets, shoes and board games Eerion had played in his youth. He
got to his knees and began digging, ignoring Stephans pres-
ence next to him, his hands helping Eerion unearth the foor.
Eerion gave up on the task once he reached a part of the foor
and headed to the next door, Stephan close to his heel.
Eerion breathed deeply, his anxiety jumping through
his body like electrical sparks. He wanted so badly to open the
door and get the whole thing over with, yet his body refused
to react to the impulses. Stephan ghosted close behind him,
watching Eerion battle himself. Do you want me to go in
frst?
Eerion looked up at Stephan, biting his lip. There was
a moment of hesitation before Eerion nodded, stepping aside.
If Stephan saw what he feared, he would protect Eerion. He
would close the door and lead Eerion out, keeping him from
witnessing his father`s resting place. Stephan swallowed refec-
tively and twisted the handle, closing his eyes as he pushed the
door open slowly. Eerion put his hands to his nose, tears start-
ing to blur his vision. The room smelled of death. He turned his
face to the wall across from the door and breathed slowly, lis-
33
tening to Stephans breath. The only thing that forced him away
from the wall was a soft yelp and the sound of people wrestling
to the foor.
What the- DAD! Eerion pulled away from the wall
frantically and ripped his father off of Stephan. Stephan laid
on his back, looking up with his hands up in surrender. Whoa,
Tiger.
Eerion wrinkled his nose at the smell wafting off his fa-
ther. Dirty and alcohol. Eerion felt past anger bubbling into his
stomach, a warm sensation crawling from his gut to his throat,
making him want to yell. Of course he smelled like alcohol; he
ALWAYS smelled like alcohol. Eerion spun his father around
to face him, his face going red in anger. Dad?
Oh, hey hey Eerion. His father slurred, a stupid
smiled spreading across his face, Hey kiddo. Eerion felt the
tips of his cheeks burn. Youre drunk.
Wha? No! No no no no no no nooo no. Luis said,
pulling away from Eerion and stumping into a wall. No no,
honey, no. Im not drunk- Luis tried to pull himself up, but fell
hard to the foor, causing Eerion to hiss in disgust. Eerion lost
all his want for a fxed relationship. He wanted nothing more
than to just leave the older man there, wallowing in his booze
and misery. Stephan pulled himself from the foor and grabbed
Luis by the armpits, pulling him up to stand on the foor. Luis
looked over at Stephan and barked a laugh, slipping from
Stephans grip. Oh, right. Youre the boyfriend, right?
Stephan cleared his throat, adopting a solemn look
directed to the foor. 'Yeah, yeah. I`m the boyfriend, Mr.
LEsparzes-
I mean, is that all youve been doing this last three weeks?
Drinking in-' Eerion looked into the room, rage flling his
chest. The stacked beer bottles, the blue bottles of vodka
thrown carelessly throughout the room. The bed covered in
empty cans. Eerion looked at his father, his eyes burning, and
yelled, Are you SERIOUS, dad?
Luis hushed him, pulling from Stephans hands and
stumbling towards his son. Eerion backed away as his father
34
came forward to pull him into a hug, sloppily hushing his an-
gry son. Don Dont yell Eerion. Its OK.
Eerion let Luis hug him, his father gently patting his
back. Everything fooded back to Eerion; twenty-fve years of
drunken ramblings, watching his father stumble around the
house, down the stairs, into walls and tables. Five year old
Eerion getting smacked across the face for laughing, crying,
yelling too loud, asking Luis to stop drinking. Stop being so
destructive, dad... Stop being so careless, daddy... Stop drink-
ing so much, daddy... Stop fucking hitting me, dad... Eerion
stood in the embrace, silently weeping.
He cried for all the feelings he could never erase, and
the horrible memories he could never shake. He cried for little
Eerion, hiding scared under his bed, and for big Eerion, who
grew up confused and demanding. He cried for Stephan, who
had to witness this sick destruction. And fnally, he cried for
himself. He pitied himself for taking so much energy, risking
his and Stephan`s life, and fghting off elements and human-
kind for a man who wasnt even searching for him. He risked
his life for a man who would rather spend the beginning of the
apocalypse drowning himself in alcohol than searching for his
sons. Sons he claimed he always loved.
Eerion knew in his heart that nothing would make it
better. He could never be at peace with his past, or with his
father. There was nothing left for him in this broken house but
painful hits and drunken memories. And some things, Eerion
believed, were never meant to be fxed. Some things were
meant to be left to die off themselves.
Eerion pulled back and smiled at his father. The ac-
tion made Stephan uneasy, but he remained in the darkness of
the hallway. Im happy I found you, dad but I have to go.
Stephan and I need to go.
35
Ah, ok, Eerion. Im glad you came to visit. Luis
slurred, smiling back at Eerion, an air of inebriated naivety
crossing his face. He almost looked innocent, in a way. He
knew nothing about the outside world, or the destruction fall-
ing around him. He was the childish drunk hiding in his house,
fnding any source of drink he could fnd. Eerion pulled him
back into the room, raising his nose to the bed full of cans. He
swept the bed off with his hand and pulled his father under
the covers, tucking him into bed. Like Eerion used to in high
school, when Luis would get so drunk, hed forget where he
slept. And Eerion would fnd him in the kitchen, banging things
and screaming about how many fucking hallways this damned
house had. And Eerion would lead him to his room silently. He
would tuck his dad in bed with his day clothes still on, and lean
him on his side so he would not choke during the night. Eerion
pulled the covers to his dads face. See you later, kiddo. Love
you. His dad murmured. Eerion stopped for a moment, tak-
ing in his fathers words. Eerion sighed, choking back an angry
snap, and said, Yeah dad. See you later.
Eerion snapped the door shut and he and Stephan left
silently, bracing the cold night air on Anderson Street. They
looked back at the house, Eerion fnally wiping his wet face.
Stephan broke the silence frst, clearing his throat. 'Did. did
it help? Seeing him again? Eerion drew out a long breath,
watching his breath puff out into a large cloud of air.
'Maybe things aren`t meant to be fxed. Maybe, some-
times things are just meant to be left alone Eerion gave
Stephan a weak smile and reached his hand out to him. Some-
times things should just be left alone. Stephan gripped his
hand and they left, Eerion demons hovering like ghosts. Ghosts
glowing in the wreckage of Chicago.

36
Megan Panella-Untitled
37
Jason Gatuz- Soldiers
Matt Krakowski-Absense of Light
38
Rock & A Hard Place
Rosie Red Charles
Stuck between a rock and a hard place
so I dont know which route to go
stuck between my thoughts and my heart
but I dont wanna seem shallow
Im stuck where you left me
confused and wondering why
Im stuck here on earth
between hell and the almighty sky
why.. why me? is something I continue to wonder
yet every time I travel down that road my heart begins to thun-
der
then ache because its on the verge of a break
or I thought
stuck between a rock and a hard place Im numb
and today of all days youve never looked so dumb
I look at me and see what you had and chose to throw away
I look at me and cant grasp why your mind didnt sway
but thats ok
stuck between a rock and a hard place
one mans trash is another mans treasure
one mans irritation is a better mans pleasure
what one cant do another will do better
stuck between a rock and a hard place
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that rock doesnt seem so hard
stuck between a rock and a hard place
the rock begins to disintegrate when I start to ignore
and begin to explore whats been there all along..
stuck between a rock and a hard place
this farewell was long over due
stuck between a hard place and a rock
I continue to wish the best to you
or so I think
I fnd it ridiculous how in a blink
of an eye you go from my man to just some guy
stuck between a rock and a hard place
now I know better
Im no longer stuck in my room writing you love letters
Im doing me while youre doing..
whatever it is you do
Im happy being just me until a man like Boaz comes through
but thank you
for everything you put me through
stuck between a rock and a hard place
I bid farewell to you..

40
Molly Grupka-Ride Me 1
41
Molly Grupka-Ride Me 2
42
Little Red
Danyelle Meyer
Everything in the forest seemed dead.
No birds were chirping to fll the afternoon silence. The sky
seemed an endless blue with no clouds or sun in sight. The deer
that usually drank from the nearby creek were non-existent,
as were the other various non-descript creatures that he never
bothered to remember the names of.
The wolf snorted from his relaxed position on the fat
rock, the sun soaking into his thick black fur. His golden eyes
danced from tree to tree, trying to remember the deep, calming
green of the layers of leaves, the rich, passionate purple of the
fowers that littered the forest foor, and the vibrant, obnoxious
yellow of the birds that fittered about.
None of it was coming back.
He turned his attention to his ever-constant companion. Her
red, red cape the color of fresh blood covered her body in a
thick blanket, hiding everything except her childish face from
his view. Long, wild midnight black hair spilled from her hood,
shifting with every movement of her body. Pale fngers danced
along the wreath of fowers between them, seeming to glow in
their own luminescence. Pink geraniums, blue hyacinths, white
mock oranges, and orange lilies all came together in a large,
inter-woven circle.
Your level of stupidity is astounding.
The words seemed to echo from the empty trees surrounding
them. The wolf snarled in anger at the insult, staring into the
eyes that frightened him so much. Their color was a dark, dark
43
brown that almost seemed black, making that eternally childish
face seem almost demonic. They stared right back, unafraid;
while her pale pink lips curled into an almost indulgent smile
that made her seem like a parent watching over her adorable,
misguided child.
It pissed him off to no end.
Her blank, blank eyes continued to stare at him while her lumi-
nescent fngers continued to expertly dance around the crown
of assorted pinks, blues, oranges and whites. He watched the
hypnotizing movements with a trance-like quality, ignoring
everything but those pale digits.
I will always be here, my friend. A constant thorn at your side.
The phrase my friend was spoken in a tone drenched in a con-
tradictory mixture of sarcasm and sincerity. He never remem-
bered agreeing to be her friend, she was just kind ofthere.
He snorted through his extended muzzle as her smile
turned mischievous, ftting into the contours of her face more
naturally. She always seemed to fnd him, he thought absently.
No matter how far he ran or where he hid, the little girl in the
red, red cape would always show up eventually, like an an-
noying little lady bug. Both are sure to taste nasty, he thought
certainly. Disregarding the fact, that he vowed as a cub to never
eat a bug in his life.

You shouldnt deceive yourself, Mr. Wolf. She said with
a small, humorless smirk. You know I taste delicious.
He snorted again before turning to his side, presenting her with
his black covered back. Trying to ignore her giggles that once
again echoed around him in an endless orchestra, he refocused
on trying to remember the colors that were once so prominent
in his life.
Absently, he listened to the soft, almost crisp crunches of the
stems of the fowers as they fell prey to her restless hands.
44
They fell into the silence that had become almost com-
forting in its consistent presence. He, trying to remember the
details that had made his world so vibrant in the past while she
focused on the construction of the colorful wreath.
You know Mr. Wolf, I almost hate you. You are allowed to be
wild and free to your hearts content, while I am stuck here.
Why cant I be free, Mr. Wolf?
He considered her question, answers coming to mind but none
of them the one that she wanted so desperately to hear. So, like
every other day he would ignore to the glowing little girl with
the face of an angel and the eyes of the devil.
Closing his dull gold eyes, the wolf with the black, black fur
forced his tired body to sleep, knowing that when he awoke the
ghost of his precious Little Red would be gone, leaving behind
a wilted wreath made of folly, constancy, deceit and hatred ly-
ing atop a red, red cape stained crimson and worn with age.
He slept, knowing her memory would haunt him again tomor-
row. Stealing the color and sound from his world and forcing
him into the hell that was the memory of his only friend in his
cold, lonely existence. Forcing him to remember the day that
he had killed and eaten her in a ft of rage, tearing into her in
a blind frenzy. Forcing him to remember her last words and
screams. The big, bad wolfs lips curled into a toothy smile.

Oh my, the ghost said in mock innocence. What large teeth you
have.

45
Arriel Lockett-Beauty of a Rose
Tom Rohlf-Shroom World
46
Haley Simone-Subconscious
Alyssa Dunn-Breathe
47
Alyssa Dunn-Anatomy
48
Tommy Horton-Green Eyes 1
49
Tommy Horton-Green Eyes 2
50
Haley Simone-The Town
51
Lindsey Surin-Rip
Dan Pisciotti-Yin Yang Fish
52
Marie Hackert-Through My Eyes
53
Elizabeth Bennet-Owls
Brennan Weaver-Zombie Puking Up Rainbow
54
Erica Hernandez-Clover Honey
55
In the living room, I am sculpting life into order.
Putting away books, discarding empty soda cans, finally
opening last weeks mail.
My cat, Sadie sneaks into the room to observe my actions.
Is this your cup of tea? she asks.
Yes, please dont touch it, its hot.
Sadie sits close to my tea cup, but not too close.
The telephone rings and I leave to answer its call.
I return to find my tea cup and tea spilled on the carpet.
How did this happen? I ask.
I dont know she says with a guilty grin.
Will you help me?
Of course
Together we pick up the pieces.
Jeanne Sullivan
Tea For Two

Art Faculty:
Advisor Nathan Peck
English Faculty:
Advisor Norm Boyer
Art Editors:
Haley Simone
Molly Grupka
Alyssa Dunn
Tom Rohlfs
Aaron Viramontes
Brian Sykes
Arriel Lockett
Literary Editors:
Amanda Novak
Brittany Ciboski
Layout Editors:
Haley Simone
Alyssa Dunn
Molly Grupka
Cover Editors:
Aaron Viramontes
Tom Rohlfs
Arriel Lockett
Opus 2013 Vol. 53 is made possible with the sponsorship
of the Student Activities Fund.
Saint Xavier University
3700 West 103rd Street
Chicago, IL 60655
Saint Xaviers Visual Art Center
10435 South Spaulding
Chicago, IL 60655
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