Page 2 INTRODUCTION Page 3 POETRY Page 5 SHORT STORIES Page 8 SPIRITUALITY Page 11 CONNECTIONS

L(EG)IT MAGL(EG)IT MAGL(EG)IT MAG MOUNT ST. MARY HIGH SCHOOL’S LITERARY MAGAZINEMOUNT ST. MARY HIGH SCHOOL’S LITERARY MAGAZINEMOUNT ST. MARY HIGH SCHOOL’S LITERARY MAGAZINE

VOLUME 2, ISSUE 1: WINTER 2012VOLUME 2, ISSUE 1: WINTER 2012VOLUME 2, ISSUE 1: WINTER 2012

Welcome to the third semi-annual Literary Magazine of Mount St. Mary. Wow! Three issues! It seems like only yes-

terday we were up in Ms. Kalmar’s kitchen, picking Viking names and struggling way too much to organize way too few

stacks of paper. However, we fought through! Hard work pays off, and once again we have produced a beautiful literary

magazine.

As far as life goes, well, it’s kind of amazing. It’s only a gift from God that we are able to catch a glimpse of this amaze-

ment from time to time: those precious moments we don’t readily lose, pulling out to bring forth a smile.

How can I go without thanking these people who have made L(eg)it Mag what it is?

Dominic Reyna, Kalry Hensley, Miley Durbin, Miryam Coleman, Peter Hensley, Rebecca Perretti, Skarlet Perretti, Ariel

Contreras, Connor Hartzell, Courtney Barry...thank you. Really, I am so glad to have gotten to work with you. You are, as

individuals, almost amazing as life itself.

Well, Mount St. Mary, here you go. Writers, photographers, story-tellers, visionaries, poets, artists, life changers...all

strewn into one. Enjoy.

Love, Kelsie Kent (Editor-in-Chief 2012)

Picture it: you’re sitting down to a luxurious meal in one of the finest upscale restaurants in the city. It’s a first date, and you’ve chosen

well: the wine is excellent (and expertly poured), the décor is subtle, sophisticated to the last detail… even the silverware gleams like the maître d' buffed it with his own coattails before setting your table.

You’ve dropped $40 a plate for the chef’s special: paidakia, a rack of lamb grilled with lemon potatoes and oregano handpicked in the

mountains of Greece. You’re nervous about the bill, of course, but desperate to impress—so there must be an appetizer. You try to keep it simple – something to pick at as you chat, nothing that might drip down your front (tzatziki is out) or get stuck in your teeth (so much for spanakopita). Your eye alights on the Flambeed cheese—you think it sounds British, but of course it must be some rare Greek variety you’ve

never heard of. “The Flambeed is excellent,” you assure your date in low, almost suggestive tones. “It has an amazing depth of flavor that you won’t find in other cheeses.”

The two of you lean in and flirt until the waiter reappears with the appetizer in hand, in what appears to be a small cast-iron skillet. You

dismissively nod your thanks and turn back to your guest, when a sudden wave of intense heat breaks over the left side of your face, and the room is instantly illuminated in a fierce orange light. Your date gasps, barely swallowing a scream of surprise, and you instinctively recoil, pushing away from the table so suddenly that you trip over your own chair and into a neighboring table, sending plates piled high with stuffed grape leaves and a whole tureen of egg and lemon soup crashing to the ground.

You lay there amid the rubble, covered in broken fine china and Greek cuisine, gazing up wordlessly at the source of your humiliation. The maître d' stands there in his black coat, his face half-obscured by the flames that still jump from the tray in his hand, and – like a trium-phant demon surveying the results of his wickedness – begins to laugh. He raises his free hand in a gesture of abandon –

“OPA!” he shouts. You stare, incredulous. The wait staff is materializing out of every hidden nook and quiet corner of the place. “OPA!” they shout, broad grins on every face.

Your face flushing, you turn with a sense of deep shame to behold your date’s reaction, and this is the worst of it: she’s laughing now too. “Opa!” she repeats with a sweet smile, as the staff swoop in to help you up and brush you off. The manager is at your side almost imme-

diately to make amends.

“Opa?” you ask. *

There’s nothing quite like it in English. Opa! is a hard-to-translate exclamation in Greek that can mean “Yay!” or “Hey!” or “Whoops!”…

or all three at once. It involves embracing and celebrating life through all its ups and downs. It means you’re all in – in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, you’re going to revel in the fact that you’re alive, and find the joy that lives in every moment of every day. It means…

OPA! Your cheese is on fire! What a blessing—it’s going to be so warm and delicious! OPA! We have broken some plates! What a blessing—we’re so fortunate to have so many to replace them with!

OPA! We have ruined your dinner! What a blessing— now you won’t have to pay for it!

OPA! Your first date was a disaster! What a blessing—you’ll have such a wonderful story to tell your children one day!

Pax et Bonum, Ms. Amy Kalmar (Faculty Advisor 2012)

Hello Rockets! Newly installed Assistant Editor-In-Chief here, wanting to thank you for picking up our third issue of L(eg)IT MAG! We have a number of people who have worked really hard on this issue for your pure enjoyment of this little thing called LIFE.

Life is not only something we put up with, or a mere requirement for us. It can also be beautiful, fun, complex, and downright amazing. We tend to overlook how incredible our lives –as well as life itself– are, so here’s to you, Life! An entire issue dedicated to your amazing works as well as your mysterious ways.

As for you, Dear Reader, I hope you enjoy the amaz-ing works of our student body.

Forever yours, Miley D. Durbin (Asst. Editor-in-Chief 2012)

Letters from the Editors

2

Poetry

Juliana Lassiter

“Oh, Rose” (Thomas Little)

Oh rose, in the blissful and sunny dell

Nothing else in the world compares to you

You give off such a sweet and peaceful smell

So great, you are the heart of my sonnet

Oh rose, fluttering in the gentle breeze

Showing me you’re so simple and so frail

I am joyful whenever you I see

Growing in the meadow, on the trail

Oh rose, you rise above all the others

For with your velvety crimson petals

You are beautiful among the heather

Though your thorns are sharper than the nee-

dle

In the end, delightful rose, you are supreme

Of all the world’s crop, you are the cream

“Parents” (Juliana Lassiter)

As we successfully blossom into adulthood,

There is someone there to teach us what is

right and good.

They educate and nourish us while we grow,

And when we are sorrowful they shoulder our

woes.

They teach us our Faith with determination,

And of Christ, they try to be a perfect imita-

tion.

Because the clock moves so quickly, let us say,

“Thanks for all you do, hopefully I will be just

like you someday.”

“I” (Jae Gyeong Lee)

Something makes me sad

Something makes me tired

Something makes me scared

Something makes me give up

Something gives me happiness

Something gives me energy

Something gives me hope

Something gives me dreams

We face many things

We decide many things

We think many things

Everything depends on me

I can change everything

Whatever, I enjoyed my life

Whatever, I am enjoying my life

Whatever I will enjoy my life

“The End of the Beginning”

(Thomas Little)

Though all things must waste away,

And no matter what, come to and end.

After winter, there’s a bright spring day,

Just around the bend.

3

“Life” (Courtney Barry)

The wind blows.

And the tide flows.

Just how life goes…

On and on and on.

Laughter. Joy. Cheers.

All familiar things that make us...us.

We joke, we laugh, we express our fears.

We share the joys that make us...us.

The leaves rustle.

And the trees dance.

Not giving anyone a second glance.

For the feelings of happiness and joy envelopes

everyone.

“Mortar: To Die” (Madison Rubino)

Nosotros somos nacer a mortar.

We are born to die.

Is that true?

What about the time in between?

La vida.

The life.

What is our purpose?

To love?

To laugh?

To cry?

How do we make our mark on the world?

Do we make fools of ourselves?

Do we worry about what comes next?

No.

Nosotros vivimos.

That is the only answer I can give.

We live.

Viva la vida.

Live the life.

“Poem” (Mrs. Whitaker)

Write a poem, rhyming this and

rhyming this and that;

Never was my favorite scheme.

Oh, drat. Distracted by the cat.

Now where was I, oh, I need a

theme.

Thinking of my days in school,

Never was I considered cool.

Making all the grades to please,

Some subjects went by with ease.

Taking tests and making charts,

How will these dreaded skills

Help to meet all life’s ills?

Diagramming sentences must be an

art!

Well, look at that! I wrote a sonnet!

And now I wear a teacher’s bonnet.

“Three Skulls” by Rachel Strouhal

Michael Fang

4

“The Angel” (Miryam Coleman)

Could it be any harder? After roaming the Earth for more of my kind, I found none. The

Earth is barren except for two humans (plus myself, but I don’t count), and it is pregnant with de-

spair and putrid scents of rotting flesh. I was sent to get rid of these two lonely mortals, for their

good, of course. I am not sure whether I should carry out this task. My Superior is powerful, and he

likes to get his way, and I love to please him. But this is just wrong.

There they are, under the apple tree. The only piece of vegetation that did not wither in the

blast. The two cuddling humans (male and female) are the only ones to survive it. The reek of won-

der, confusion, and loneliness. I stealthily glide toward them in a bubble of invisibility and eerie si-

lence.

The male picks an apple with his shaking

hand. He and his mate both stare at it. Maybe they

think it’s sweet meat will reverse the time so they

could save their race. But alas, no. This disaster

was prophesized to occur.

“I sense a presence, but I can’t describe

who it could be.” The girl looks around. There is

now a warm mist descending on the terrain. Un-

comfortable for the humans, but I have no physical

feeling for it.

“You are mad and sick.” The male puts the

back of his hand against her forehead. “It appears

you have a tremendous fever, too. “Ouch!” When

he abruptly takes back his hand, it is smoking. The

girl’s forehead is glowing bright red.

“I do feel ill,” she exclaims, swaying and

landing in his lap. Without any excitement or fur-

ther cry, she dies. Then the male looks straight

ahead. He has been murdered by shock and the

idea of nothingness.

I walk away and am transported into vast

eternity. I am a murderer, but I am an angel. I am

from the Creator who established no murder. This

is a new paradox that no being will know.

Short Stories

“Stores can conquer fear, you know. They can make the heart bigger.” -Ben Okri

Art by Kelsie Kent 5

7

From “The Minifigures” (Chris Conner)

Sparkman said, “Razenoid Destroyer, he hasn’t been released into stores.” Razenoid said, “I like to get

things earlier. The first thing is always the best.” Then Gallotmon said “We don’t care if you’re human sized,

you’re going down Razenoid Destroyer”. They all realized that he was right, and were getting ready to fight

him. Then, they saw a meteor falling down to earth, specifically toward the oil rig. They tried to move, but the

meteor fell, making a giant hole in the oil rig. Then, the entire earth stopped moving. Time was frozen still. The

Minifigures then saw Mechtavious Destroyer trapped in chains. Then he said, “Minifigures, the meteorite has

allowed us to freeze time, so I can bring something to you.” Then Ingram said “What is the prize?” Then

Mechtavious showed him his left hand. The neo-spacian flare Scarab, who gave his life to save his fellow team-

mates.

Then as they were all happy and cheering. Scarab said, “Listen to Mechtavious.” Then he said, “No matter

what happens to me, you must destroy Razenoid Destroyer.” Then he was starting to fade, because the cosmic

time holder was fading., Then Scarab said, “Everyone, take someone’s hand and unite together.” Then, they

each got someone’s hand, then Scarab used some of the cosmic power to fuse them, with the assistance of the

ToyBoy bond to evolve ToyBoy further. Then, as the time hold had worn off, Razenoid saw a bright light, then

saw ToyBoy (a hero with mixed parts of members of Team Minifigure) evolve into Cosmic ToyBoy (brighter

than regular ToyBoy), saying with a fused voice, “Let’s finish this, Razenoid Destroyer; for humans, for Minifig-

ures, and for everyone you have tried to hurt, this is the end of you Razenoid!” Then the two forces charged

In our last issue, Chris Conner, the 2011 L(eg)IT Writer Award

winner, was featured as a “A Writer To Watch.” He’s back

again, this time with an action-packed snippet from his series

of stories, “The Minifigures.”

NEED MORE?

How can we contain all the creativity and talent at the Mount in just

twelve pages? (Answer: we can’t!) Find more great literature and

art on our website, msmlitmag.yolasite.com. Au-

thors and artists include Courtney Barry, Ellen Mills, DJ Lloyd,

Mackenzie Page, Miryam Coleman, Karly Hensley, Annah Durbin,

Mary Pham, Konrad Sartorius, Hala Riley, Juliana Lopez, Tesa Da-

nusantoso, Karen Bisges, Mrs. Kinslow, Mr. Grondin, Coach Keilty,

and many more!

6

A WRITER TO WATCH:

Mr. Lyn Hepner

Coach Hepner is a

teacher and coach

here at Mount St.

Mary. He teaches

American History,

Government, Eco-

nomics, and he

also coaches foot-

ball and track. He

is in the process

of getting a his-

torical-fiction

novel published,

and you can only

get an exclusive

first look at his

new book, God,

Take Care of

These Poor Boys,

here in

L(eg)it Mag!

The Prayer for Slain Cowboys.

Charlie Colcord, with hat in hand, stood over the freshly-dug grave on the lonely ridge. He squinted as he looked out over the bone-dry grass of the rolling prai-rie. The skin of his bald head, as white as a fish belly, that began mid-forehead in stark contrast to his leath-ery brown face, gained rare exposure to the elements with the removal of his sweat-stained hat. The grizzled foreman took a long breath, smoothed out his drooping handlebar mustache, glanced momentarily upward into the firmament, then down the horizon at the fiery or-ange sun settling over the Salt Plains of the Cimarron. Clamping shut his eyes to avoid the sight of the bru-tally slain cowboys in the narrow grave, he began his attempt at a prayer.

“Lord. Now we all believe, as all men who are

reared out in the open must and always will be-lieve, that there is a God, who rules and overrules in the affairs of men. We have watched the sun, moon and stars in their courses; we have night-herded by the north star, for years, using it as a time-piece; every spear of grass in the prairie ver-dure, every flower that spangled its face, every wind that swept the plain and every note sung by the birds bears witness to the existence of a great, unseen, Divine Power.

So, knowing in my own soul the existence of such a Supreme Being, I take off my hat and raise my face to the skies as I humbly ask, 'God, take care of these poor boys.' Such is the prayer that I offer. Amen.”

7

Hurriedly, the men shoveled dirt over the bodies of their compan-ions. Upon completion, they clamped their hats back in place and quickly mounted.

Charlie announced, “c’mon boys, we got to git back to Medicine Lodge. We need to warn the folks north of here ‘bout the bunch that kilt my nephew and his pal.”

He shot a quick look at the former Army scout, “You comin,’ Drago?” “No, I will be continuing on to Fort Supply. I have been ordered back to

scout for the 4th Cavalry. I’m gonna’ do all I can to catch these dogs what done this to our friends.”

Charlie shrugged, adjusted his hat and instructed. “Well, you watch out. You never know where them hostiles could pop up.” He sawed the reins of his sorrel gelding toward the north.

“C’mon boys.” Colcord and his bunch took off as Felix clucked and spurred Franz Josef,

riding away from the Salt Hauler’s grave as fast as he could. Over his shoul-der, he shouted, “I’ll be puttin’ distance between this place and looking for a safe one to camp at tonight. You boys try to keep yer hair and make it safe back home.”

Colcord and the group of cowboys had already covered enough distance themselves and never heard Felix’s parting words.

(An Excerpt From God, take care of

these poor boys cont.)

Photography by Andrew Yoon 8

SPIRITUALITY “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any

two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit,

of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and in-

tentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).

“A Love Letter” (Miley Durbin)

Dearest Life,

I remember when we first met, truly met. I had always passed you by, but never truly knew you. But then you stole

my heart, and I saw in you beauty I have never seen before. Your glow illuminated my world. Your smile made my

heart leap for joy. I saw in your soul so much intrinsic beauty it was an adventure I never wanted to cease to ex-

plore. I cannot ask for another. You are oh, so lovely in my eyes. I understand you are not perfect. You will never

be. But you are honest, forgiving, and you never fail to apologize for your mistakes. I love you. You steal my

breath every time I look at you. I may not always understand you, and yes, I may become angry with you, but

you always wipe away my tears and paint a smile on my face. You keep my heart beating, and I never want to

lose you. I vow to always keep you close and to love you forever.

Sanctity of Life by Jonathan Martinez

9

“Resurrection” (Kelsie Kent)

Death is in the air.

Today could be a beautiful day,

But look a tall the lonely people!

Look at all the hurting people!

Look at all the unforgiving…

Those who still don’t know the truth.

See them cry,

Watch them die.

No one knowing the stain of blood.

I could help them,

I could save them.

We could wash them and hold them and

whisper in their ears,

Touch their hearts, soft and smooth as

stone.

Rejuvenating spirits,

Catching wind,

Changing lives.

Kenosis (Mr. Tom Carter)

“Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in

Christ Jesus,

Who, though he was in the form of God,

Did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.

Rather, he emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

coming in human likeness;

and found human in appearance,

he humbled himself,

becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.”

Philippians 2:5-8

Webster defines kenosis as the relinquishment of divine attributes by

Jesus Christ in becoming human. The word did not make the dictionary

until 1873, so the idea is recent in written Christian history. But to the

Early Christians this idea was clearly understood. St. Paul wrote in The

Letter to the Philippians that Jesus did not strive to be equal to God

while He was in the flesh (human). Being willing to sacrifice his

‘Godness’ while he was human is what kenosis is about. But Jesus went

further, He gave His human life on the cross to show that God is love,

thereby extending His act of kenosis to His sacrifice on the cross. This

is the model we have been given by God; this is the example we have

been given by Jesus; and, this is the call we are given by the Holy Spirit.

Juliana Lassiter

“Conflicted” (Carolina Andrade)

Why do hardships plague the undeserv-

ing?

Why must kind, caring, cheery friends

suffer?

“The cancer returned” - a phrase un-

nerving

But hearing it often makes one tougher.

Of course one, frightened, will bitterly

weep.

Feeling abandoned, hopeless, one de-

spairs

Find comfort in a friend, curled in a heap

“I thought He loved me, but my faith He

tears.”

Yet the tears somehow dry, and hope

rekindles,

Despite the sunken eyes and thinning

hair.

“The war still rages, but my fear dwin-

dles,

For He patched my faith, held me, said: ‘I

care.’”

When the battle seems lost, one’s faith

will flee

But one must remember: He is with thee.

10

CONNECTIONS Music, History, Philosophy, Technology… in Lit Mag,

we’ll write about anything if you give us a chance.

“Celebrate Life” (Trini Dean)

YOLO. These four letters became popular about a year ago when a famous rapper,

“Drake”, came out with a song titled “The Motto”. Whether it was his intention or

not, people everywhere seized this phrase with extreme vigor. Some people used it

as a reason to abandon fear and do what they’ve wanted to do for a very long time,

while still, others used it as an excuse to do ignorant things for absolutely no reason

at all. “YOLO”, in some ways, is summing up what people before have tried to get

across: Go out there and do something. “Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an

unlived life.” (-Natalie Babbitt) Since most religions only believe in one chance at life, we shouldn’t waste it. Instead, we should go out and “be the change we want to see

in the world”, because isn’t it better to go out and say “Hey I tried” instead of not

going out there at all?”

“New Life” (Kevin Nguyen)

Past curiosity was nothing but a thought, until one day someone

drew it up,

And made it present technology, which laid way for future poten-

tial.

Our potential came with knowledge, but left with our economy.

The reproduction of oil was fuel for the economy,

But it slowly started to dry and cause a war that tore and soared with

many deaths.

We thirst for knowledge as if it were H20

But we aren’t satisfied once we have it because it isn’t enough.

Knowledge is food that we need for our personal gain.

Knowledge goes hand in hand with creativity, with either gone evo-

lution is done.

We evaluate our money and technology while we make pro-

gress in its efficiency to speed up the pace of society.

Our civilization spends it’s time on the internet while our family

around the world

desires our education to stay connected to the strange way of life

that we’ve all come to know.

Every breath we take in with oxygen goes toward the dream of hap-

piness.

11

12

Thank you to all supporters, contributors, and

editors of this issue of L(eg)IT MAG. And special thanks to our printer, Mr.

Bruce Pierce, who has once again given our magazine the gift of life!

Vita brevis.

As the old Latin poem goes,

Lit Mag is short, Art is long, and Decisions are difficult.

We couldn’t print all of the wonderful sub-missions we receiv- ed, but you can find a full-color copy of the magazine AND more creative works by your friends and faculty at our website:

msmlitmag. yolasite. com.

Want to join us next semester? Lit

Mag meets after school on Tuesdays in Ms.

Kalmar’s room (108). All are welcome!

12

Covert Art: Rachael Ngo (Front) Elizabeth Personette (Back)