Into the Abyss

2024-2025

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Photography Rushlight. Photography Rushlight.

Love Potion

By Violet Russell

By Violet Russell

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Fiction Rushlight. Fiction Rushlight.

The Siren and The Star

By Ally Lavelli

By Ally Lavelli

Once upon a time, in a land lost to the sea, there lay a harbor town. It held all the things a harbor town might hold, with taverns and inns and a large port for the fishermen’s boats to come docking into to sell their wares. The harbor town’s splendor came and went with the tide. It molded to fit the restless tantrums of the sea. The sea was kind, and the town prospered. The sea was cruel, and the town suffered. 

As such the townspeople had learned to leave the sea to her devices. The fishermen were the only souls that dared to venture into the gray waters; and only a fool among them would dare to fish more than they were due. 

Within this harbor town lived a young maiden. She was kind, and gentle to all creatures. Her complexion matched that of the pine wood of autumn- a season she was unfamiliar with in a town so close to the sea and so over-harvested of its trees. Her eyes were darker still. They were so dark and so wide that they reflected the stars themselves on a cloudless night. Her father had told her time and time again that she was made of stars. 

ā€œOne day, ma petite, you’ll be with the stars again. And I’ll be there waiting for you,ā€ he’d whisper every night before she fell asleep, the night sky twinkling from her window. The young maiden would dream of beautiful creatures made of starlight scooping her into their arms and showing her the wonders only birds and clouds could fathom. 

One evening, the maiden was collecting mussels along the shore of her harbor town. The sea was calm, only a gentle lapping against her feet. But as she finished her scavenge for the hearty shells, she caught sight of a figure along the jetty. 

The maiden knew it couldn’t have been one of the townsfolk from her home. No soul would dare step onto such dangerous rocks. Her father had warned her time and time again that she could slip and hurt herself. Worse, she could fall into the violent waves as they crashed into the jagged rocks, and she would surely die. But as she watched the figure perch upon the rock, an ache pierced the maiden’s chest. 

Did they not know of the rule? Perhaps they weren’t aware of the danger they were in. Determined to help, the maiden clasped her hands to the stars above her and prayed they would catch her, should she fall. 

And so, the maiden climbed over the slick, pointed rocks to the figure at the far end of the jetty. The waves sent gusts of shrieking wind into her thick curls, tossing and twisting them about her head. The walk was treacherous, and the maiden was short of breath when she reached the figure. Now that she was close, it was clear that they were pale- in her wild imagination the maiden wondered if a piece of the moon had fallen to the tide that it was so desperate to bring closer. 

But now the maiden could see the truth; this was no person from her town, nor was it a human at all. It was a woman, but not in her entirety. She was pale as the moon, and her hair the bluest of silver. It was chopped short, and still the wind cradled it tenderly. She radiated a beauty that the maiden had never witnessed before. 

ā€œAre you a goddess of the moon?ā€ she found herself whispering. Even through the wind, the woman turned at the sound of her voice. She became even more enchanting. Soft lips and sharp eyes, frilled gills and aquamarine scales tracing her jaw and temple. She quirked a brow at the question. 

ā€œA goddess?ā€ she scoffed. ā€œI’m not from the sky. Quite the opposite.ā€

With that, she revealed a long, slender tail where her legs should have been. The maiden gasped in awe as the moonlight caused each and every scale to glimmer. The stranger seemed to be adorned in the finest of gemstones. 

ā€œI am a siren,ā€ the stranger said. Her voice sang without her ever needing to tilt her words. The maiden was completely and hopelessly enamored. 

She took a trembling step forward. ā€œIt isn’t safe here.ā€

The siren did not seem moved. She instead said, ā€œAll the more reason for you to leave me be. Humans tend not to stray this close to sirens. You’ve never heard the tales?ā€

The maiden was hardly aware of any advice she’d been given up until this moment. She only sank to her knees beside the siren. She offered her a kind smile.

ā€œDo tell me.ā€

The siren furrowed her brow in confusion. ā€œThe stories? I doubt you’d like to hear them- especially with you sitting so close to me.ā€ She turned her face away, but the maiden could hear her pain as clear as day when she murmured, ā€œYour people call me a sea witch. A monster. I’ve heard countless stories of my people in a human’s voice. Saying we eat human flesh. Blaming us when their ships sink and their men drown in our waters. Calling us the wrath of the sea.ā€ 

The maiden had never heard such hateful things, and couldn’t begin to attach them to the beautiful creature before her. She sat closer. 

ā€œI have heard no such stories, and I can’t imagine they’re true,ā€ the maiden said. The siren stiffened, staring in wonderment. The maiden’s kind heart was clear to see, and in that moment, the siren could see the stars in the sky above them reflected in her eyes as clearly as the calm waters of the sea. In a moment as pure as the one formed between them, both were equally enchanted. 

ā€œWell.. thank you,ā€ the siren said, her song growing softer by the minute. 

The maiden stood with her bucket of mussels, still smiling. ā€œI have to run home now, but will you be here tomorrow night? I would love to hear of the stories you do like.ā€ 

The siren was so surprised by the maiden’s kindness that all she could do was agree. And so it went. Night after night, the maiden would meet the siren along the jetty, and the two would share stories from their separate worlds. Neither could visit for long, but even within their short time together each night, a love deeper than the ocean itself had blossomed. 

One night the maiden couldn’t bear it any longer. She pressed a gentle kiss to the siren’s lips. The siren had never felt a touch so soft, or a heart so strong.

For the first time in years, the siren smiled. And she kissed the maiden again. And again.

Night after night it went. The maiden and her siren lover. Rumors flitted about the harbor town of a girl who traversed the jetty each night, beckoned by the loving melody of the sea creature who had stolen her heart away.

It wasn’t until many years later that the maiden’s heart began to ache for more. Stolen kisses and shallow touches could no longer soothe the deep hole in her chest to hold her lover close during all manner of the day. 

She cursed the stars. Why must she only see her beloved at night? Why need they fear the daylight? 

It was after her lament that night when she held tighter to the siren. Stayed longer. She never wished to let go. It began to frighten her lover. 

ā€œDarling, you’re shaking,ā€ she whispered, pressing gentle kisses to the maiden’s dark eyelids. The maiden could only clutch her arms tighter, her thoughts growing darker than the sky above them. 

ā€œMy dear, I can’t be apart from you any longer. I’ve scorned the stars; they’ve shadowed our love for far too long. I beg of you, take this ache away from me. Take me with you; into the sea, where we can be together no matter the time of day.ā€

The siren paled at the thought. ā€œI could never do such a thing! You would die!ā€

The maiden stood too quickly- moved too recklessly. ā€œYou must. You must take me with you. I can’t be without you any longer,ā€ she begged, tears streaming from her face. 

Her tears punctured the siren’s heart. How could she refuse her lover’s wish? But still, she shook her head.

ā€œIf anything happened to you, my love, I wouldn’t survive. I’m sure of it,ā€ she said gently, stroking her maiden’s inky curls. ā€œYou’ve taught me what it is to love. To live. How could I ever take that life from you? Please, sit back down. Stay with me a few moments longer, until the sun rises..ā€

The maiden stepped back. The rocks were slick, and her movements were not careful enough. Before the siren could reach her, the maiden slipped from the rocks and fell into the crashing waves below. 

The siren screamed, a sound so ragged with terror and grief that lightning split the sky. She dove to catch her, but stopped. 

As the maiden’s body touched the starry reflection of the water, the stars themselves descended from above. They swaddled her in light, bundling her until her plain clothes faded into the sea below. Her skin turned a deep violet in mimicry of the sun-speckled sky. Light pricked her skin, and constellations scattered across her body. 

For she was starlight, as her father had said. And the stars had caught her, as they’d promised to do when she’d prayed to them all those years ago. 

She was now a woman of the stars, stars that splayed across the sea each and every night. Stars that dove beneath the waves and visited her lover any time they both wished it. 

Legends tell of a siren who sings to the night sky, and a star that touches the water just to be in her embrace once more.

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Multimedia Rushlight. Multimedia Rushlight.

The Exit

By Jacqueline Modungo

By Jacqueline Modungo

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Lake Eyes

By Danielle Halnen

By Danielle Halnen

i have brown Eyes

But you tell me the brown i see isn’t the same you see

That my Eyes were born from a lake

A lake that you can pull clay from at the bottom

And make into pots

A lake that’s water reflects the sky

But the day is always cloudy

So the color is deep, deep, deep and your feet can’t touch the bottom

Which scares you but who can’t look away from a scary thing

A lake with ripples in the water that are like the furrows of my Iris

A lake with vibrant green algae which multiples in the heat of the sun

A lake that is lined with pine

One cut open where you can sit for hours and count the rings

And i gladly count them with you

Until all i see is brown again

And you kindly tell me to dive back in

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Drawing Rushlight. Drawing Rushlight.

Wubby

By Jacqueline Modungo

By Jacqueline Modungo

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Sculpture Rushlight. Sculpture Rushlight.

Rachel

By Dylan Webb

By Dylan Webb

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Missed

By Ava Mae

By Ava Mae

Torn from the place of my birth I have clawed

careless men 

With chipped nails; 

Tattered talons. 

I’ve not been used 

But overlooked; 

Mistaken 

Misled to the well with no water; Where will my

wishes wash up?

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Painting Rushlight. Painting Rushlight.

Publicity

By Sam Glocker

By Sam Glocker

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Leaving Chinatown pt. 4

By Reese Staples

By Reese Staples

I think of you
Freshly brewed jasmine
A sweetened brass kettle 

The back of hmart 
Someone hung omamori 

Intimacy like a shelled fruit
Peel it, 

Then it’s sweet 
Just like the calpico sitting at the back of my fridge 
At home, so I can leave a piece of you anywhere I might find myself
I light a red out the window

To turn around,
And you’re there, like always
Waiting with your stained wine glass
And the pile of pistachios 
I spilled across my persian rug made in China.

I started wearing more grey 
You said that grey reminds you of the sky on a perfect day
Like the beauty of evenings in Russia
Now I’m wearing your Mother’s jacket

Your father doesn’t speak much English
I hope he will understand how greatly I talk of you
How his son is an artist 
Just like he is

Put on more green, 
It brings out your eyes
I wish you could see me dance 
Under those green lights I chose
But you’re gone
Away in Honshu.

But everytime I see a rabbit
I think of you 

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Autumn

By Teddy Giourard

By Teddy Giourard

I wish autumn had gone differently 
Can’t we paste the leaves back on the trees?

Before the leaves were brown
November, and her cruel winds
Before they were crimson
October, the betrayal of friends
Before they started to change
September, and the original sin 
I’m tired of the moral victory 
I just want to win 

Let me be greedy for a change

The leaves are falling
I keep calling
Out for help 
Like the chorus of a song 
I need to end

The leaves are falling
The leaves are my hair
The leaves are my heart and my humor 
I am going to end up a withered tree
Grasping at the sky for help 
My arms, outstretched branches
And the Sun will whisper ā€œnoā€.

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Sculpture Rushlight. Sculpture Rushlight.

Moose - 1

By Ben Cheung

By Ben Cheung

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Dancing Lines

By Emily Clairmont

By Emily Clairmont

Silver patterns against peach toned skin
this patchwork of my body
left behind by surgical steel
is revolting

At first glance,
all barriers have disappeared
and on display are
ugly divots left by your hand
gorges to be filled by sinew not yet created

On the second,
they have become purple speed bumps
red lined
hot to the touch
the first thing my eyes latch on to

But the third glance,
that is when fire has fizzled out
red turned pink turned silver
the delicate lines emerge
hiding in plain sight on a peach canvas
never quite managing to blend in 

The dance they create tells
the age-old tale of victory
against a foe unseen

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Print Rushlight. Print Rushlight.

Lost

By Dylan Webb

By Dylan Webb

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

The boy

By Coltrane McGonigle

By Coltrane McGonigle

his steps weary 
a doe whose danger close 
to go left, to go right 
death has made her decision 

the steps he walks refute him 
a lonesome warrior’s journey home 
the pencil leads him not otherwise and the eraser knows its 
task 

the canvas is blank 
but how does one play? 
he goes through ā€˜enth memories 
to recount the numbers to 10 

for what does he know 
the boy with no name? 
to rhyme, or to write, 
she sees clearly her lesson

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Painting Rushlight. Painting Rushlight.

Void

By Charlie Black

By Charlie Black

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Painful Painting of The Way I Desire

By Vittoria Burgess

By Vittoria Burgess

Somehow the rain does not cool these rooms 
A singular window 
stretched 
as far as it will let me 
Sweat pouring down my back 
I forget I’m inside 
Face reddening
full of warmth 
my stomach churns

I find it hard to write about things I love 
Unless I am loving until destruction 

I will overanalyze my every action 
Convincing myself it makes me a better person
I am aware this is pointless and unrealistic
I cannot stop myself from believing it

When love fills my lungs 
My knees give out
Sometimes my arms twist when I land  
Often my ankle forces itself over
Either way, I am injured 

The smell of wet paint is intoxicating in this tiny room 
I cannot tell if my light-headedness is a result of these fumes
Or the idea that love could transpire
Flaws and injuries – the only way I have ever loved  
My brain has forced me to break my wrist 
Over someone who has not shown me love in return 

Please nurse me back to health 
I will not scream when my joints are forced back into place

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Photography Rushlight. Photography Rushlight.

Into the Light

By Willow Covendeck

By Willow Covendeck

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Photography Rushlight. Photography Rushlight.

Jellyfish Double Exposure

By Willow Covendeck

By Willow Covendeck

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Poetry Rushlight. Poetry Rushlight.

Alzheimers

By Will Flandach

By Will Flandach

Dick Jane Mom Dad Home Lawn Car Church God
Mom Dad Dick Jane Home Car Church God
Mom Dick Home Dad? Car House Church God
Mom Dick House Walls Car Man God Priest
Dick Jane House Walls Men Woman God
Jane Dick Walls Television Rug Microwave Men Woman God
Dick Jane? Walls Bed Picture Question Rug Men Women God
Dick Sibling Walls Image Blur DVD Rug Men Women God
Dick Girl Walls Women Men House Green Bible
Dic Girl Walls Walls Walls Women Men Green Bible
Di Girl Walls Walls Walls Women Men Color Book
D Girl Walls Walls Walls People Color Book Light
I Girl Walls Walls Walls Light Dark Noses Hands Feet
I Love Walls Walls Walls Shadow Lips Hair Me
I Love Walls Walls Walls Figure Freckles Black White
Eye Love Walls Walls Walls Eyes Freckles Grey
Eye Love Walls Walls Walls Eyes Marbles Symmetry 
Eye Hate Walls Walls Walls Watching Division
Eye Hate Paint Shade Strangers Lust Rage Guilt
Watching Black White Strangers Fear Mom
                              Mom?

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Photography Rushlight. Photography Rushlight.

Water Study #2

By Willow Covendeck

By Willow Covendeck

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