A Brief Word From The President
Soul Searchig is a Mosiac the Literary Arts strives for each semester
.
We have art
work
,
pros
,
poetry, and photos from all across the campus. You may also notice we
'
are adding Alumni to the Mosaic.Please enjoy Soul Searching and the
Advisor:
Richard Grinel
1
Chief Editor:
Scott Neville
List of Editors:
Eric Dahlen
Amy Snyder
Donna Jackson
Heather Clarke
Maria Schiano
Jamie Veley
Front Cover Art
Sydney Darling
Back Cover Art
Jeanette Deskiewicz
large variety of orks it has to offer.
-:Jleatlier Clarke
"Viking"
By Sue Goodwin










Table Of Contents I
I
Unconscious Fears
2 For Asangla
3 The Evening Songs
4 The Solution
5 Get Well Soon
6 Adaptation of H.R. Giger s Li
7
Leave it to Chance - Shattered Realities
8
+
9 Celeste
JOMAN
11 A SURFER'S ROOM
11 Walking Through the Light
12 Breaking Down
13 "Statue "
14 i 'm not yours
15 I can
t
look in mirrors
Melissa Bichun
Sumit Deshpande
Jaime
L.
Smith
Jamie 'f--eley
SujeyDeCoo
E. De Traglia
Daniel M Reiser
Heather Clarke
Jeanette Deskiewicz
Sydney Darling
Jennifer Knobloch
Maria Schiano
Joanne Parent
Katie Baronowski
James A. Rove/lo
15 Cross Bearing Portal Jumper
Daniel Reiser
16 ''Mother"
E. De Traglia
17 Angels guide earth
Heather A. Suydam
18 Funeral March
Donna Jackson
19 Inspired by the Sandman Comics "Dream" Heather Clarke
20 FAST
Sydney J. Darling
21 Darkness!
21 Kiwi Equation
22-23 2000 Years
Anonymous
Rob Casinghino
Jaime
L.
Smith












Table
.
Of Contents
II
24 Clothes and the Women Who Wear Them
25 Kneeling Woman
26 escaping
27 There is something dark within me ...
28 Empty! (A song/or Easter)
29 Sketch
30 Summer Storm
31 Thegirl
3 I Doesn
t
She Know
32-35 Fading Memories
36 The Story Of My Life
37
"embitter~d
and embattled"
37 "the relevancy of relativity"
38 Ode to an English Professor
39 A beautiful light
39 Pop-Culture-Heaven
40-4 I Excerpts for the "Aluminati"
42 Sugar
43-46 Wheel
ef
lime Outtakes in Finn/and
46 "Columns"
.
47-48 Tom's
birthday
49 The End
Melissa Bichun
Daniel Reiser
Kate Baranowski
James Rove/lo
Sumit Deshpande
Daniel Reiser
Jamie Veley
Jeff Schroeder
Jeff Schroeder
Donna Jackson
Nik Bonopartis
Jeff Schmitt
Jeff Schmitt
Kimberly Genesi
Barbara Gambee
J.
Pisano
Sue Goodwin
Jaime L. Smith
Nik Bonopartis
Joanne Parent
Otg
Scott Neville









The Mosaic
UNCONSCIOUS FEARS
BY MELISSA BICHUN
LA YING THERE SO QUIETLY
SAFE FROM THE WORLD AROUND
THE BLANKET COVERS YOU FROM
EVIL
THE
EVIL
THAT CREEPS INTO YOUR H£AD
AND OUT THROUGH YOUR DR£AMS.
IT
SHAKES YOU AND YOU WANT TO
LEA
VE
BUT YOU'RE STUCK IN YOUR HEAD AND CAN'T GET OUT.
AS THE MONSTER CHASES YOU.
YOU JUST KEEP RUNNING
BECAUSE TO YOU
IT
ISN'T A DREAM.
YOUR
LIFE
IS IN DANGER
AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHO CHASES YOU.
AND HE'S JUST ABOUT TO CATCH YOU
WHEN REALITY
CRASHES
IN.
SOM£THING AWAKES YOU
IT
WAS ALL A DREAM..
OR WAS
IT?
AFTER
ALL
THEY SAY DREAMS
ARE THE FEARS
THAT WE BURY IN OUR UNCONSCIOUS.
I






2
Spring 1999
ForAsangla
Sumit Deshpande
A rainbow bright in the Eastern sky
Wouldn't be, if not for the rain
The joy in our hearts has more meaning
Because
we
have gone through much pain
Light is appreciated further more
By one who has known darkness
Happiness is never taken for granted
By one who understands sadness
Wisdom is received earlier by those
Who are patient and humble in heart
Your future is in the hands of a loving God
Your life ... is a work of art!
Gently and carefully He moulds you
Adding the color and the hues
Your life is a song He loves to sing
And He is always in perfect tune
The caterpillar rests in its cocoon
Being changed and transformed within
When its time to fly
She breaks free from the shell
The struggle giving strength to her wings
So spread your wings and fly
My beautiful little butterfly













The Mosaic
rlie. [.ve.nimy Su~s
J
tt.-if>1,t, L. 5ftt-itf,;
i:f
"1A lust 1fU1Ar J'ick 1,e.ne.tt.-th tlie. trees.
Unruuve.rtt.-1,te. •••
Such, de.tt.-r l1Jric tt.-n~ f>1,t,lu~1f-
Tlie.o/
ftt-ust
trtt.-vel
uJ'un tlie. tt.-ir
for
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r
wilt nut
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tlie. ufferitUJ
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uf tt.-utuftt-n ~ew uJ'un the 1rMs.
ru f>1,t,
1f
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ftt-3/
cut~ e.,u,
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Tlie. cul~
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tt.-
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6ul~ tt.-m{f".r1utte.n-
i:JU1A r vuiu 'l,ritUJs tlie.ftt- frA-Ck.
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Suft tt.-m{ huftt-tt.-n-,
Thr"1A1{,, tlie. stt.-1,te. tt.-ir uf tt.-n tt.-utuftt-n e.ve.nitUJ·
3









4
Spring 1999
The Solution
by Jamie Veley
i long for a solution
.
my lover seems to have found one; he kept telling me
that violence is the solution. i begged him not
to
inflict violence and pain on
others, perhaps i was naive
to
believe that he would not destroy himself. my
mind is creating images as if it is playing a film and all
i can do is pray for a
commercial. i stare at the television, only i do not see it. instead my mind
wanders back to my lover; today, he had decided, would be the day - a day i
will never forget
.
he had made me promise not to watch, as if i wanted to.
my heart feels as if it is lodged in my throat. how can i sit here while the
man i loved is alone, all alone except for the pistol he had purchased this
morning. we had talked for hours last night and he had convinced me that
this was the most rational thing to do
.
ifhe was right then why do i feel so
damn alone? people constantly ask me if he's lost his mind and all i can
answer is that i know i've lost mine. what will people say when they discover
he is no longer?
my mind is telling me
to
use the phone and help my lover, bring him back to
me
.
my heart seems to speak louder; it screams to leave him be, he knows
what he is doing. lately, the depression had swarmed him like a tidal wave
and he was unable to yell
to
the lifeguard ... or perhaps the lifeguard just
didn't bother to respond
to
his pleads
.
my internal movie continues to flash in my mind, with no pause in sight. i lay
on the floor, shaking with fear; unable to control my body
..
. like a seizure.
the fear and depression takes me over.
i
am
too
wrapped up in my own
'
movie to hear the news report on the television.
"Tonight city police found a dead body. It appears that the victim turned a
pistol on himself and pulled the trigger at least 6 times; this is one of the
most violent suicides police have seen in years ... "








The Mosaic
(}et We{{Soon
Sujey (JJeCoo
¾usfi
.
©on 't say a won£.
I k,now liow you fee[
I've 6een tliere 6efore.
Just come stay ivi.tli me.
I
'
{[ comfort you.
<You don't liave to say a won£.
I
'
m liere for you.
Cfose your eyes
Pee[ my caress.
Lay your lieatf upon my Cap.
<,Rsfa:zys
.
<Jliere's notliinn outside tliat can't wait tiff
fater.
Let tlie worfif me[t outside tlie door
:}{otliinn e~ts 6ut you and me
.
I'm liere for you.
,
<,Rsmem6er tliat.
I'm liere for you.
5











°'
°'
°'
......
~
·i::
0..
(/).
l,D
Adaptation ofH.R. Giger's
Li
E. DeTraglia














The Mosaic
Excerpts from: Leave it to Chance - Shattered Realities
Book 1 of the Magnius Rising series
By Daniel M Reiser
7
_
ffow
_
I am fighting
to
regain my life
,
to once again take
control
of a l{fe
that has taken control over me. I am fighting to take it back, I am fighting
to
get back to
you.
I am no longer going
to
move
,
I will
stay
in one place for a
period of time without the
fear
of moving on. I was able
to
conceal my ab-
sences
during high
school
and it has never happened to me in front of my high
school
,
only close friends back home
,
and now in front of my new friends here
.
I know they will be hurt by what I have concealed from them,
the
lies I have
told them, and the
secrets
I have kept from them. I hope that they forgive me
.
When it happened I saw the confusion and fear in Sharon
s
soft brown
eyes
,
as
the
vortex
took
me
,
I saw Ian reaching out
,
risking
everything
,
trying to
save
me from something that is as much a part of me as his own arm
.
He tried
,
I
have to say that, without any restraint, he tried to save me
.
.if only I told them
,
if
only I shared with them the truth
,
but now it is
too
late
,
and they may never
trust me again. I only hope that when I return from this world
,
to my home
,
I
will
explain and they
shall
understand why I had to keep the
secret
,
I was
protecting them. They will understand the things I have seen and accept me for
what I am. This hope is what is keeping me alive right now. This hope is what
is pushing me further. It might even be this hope that is forcing me to face my
destiny
,
giving up all dreams of a normal life. In my drawer is a letter ad-
dressed to all ofmy friends, it will explain apart of the life I live
,
and wit will
leave the numbers of my kin and friends that know of my secret
,
and deserve to
know where I am
.
I will never give up and I will try to make it back to
you
all
.
My family, my friends. It is so difficult being torn between two worlds
,
two
realities, two universes
.
I am a man, that because of fate, as born to the wrong
reality
,
a reality I call home
,
yet
do not belong the very same. Where my heart
is
,
is where I call home
,
that is where all I hold dear resides. Unfortunately, the
Other-world needs me
.
I was supposed to be the one that would bring about
the destruction of the demons, but how could I when I lived a whole reality
away
.

















8
Spring 1999
Celeste
By Heather Clarke
TheJullJllJ>on and
_
melfow str.edlights tossed
.
shadows across the quiet
streets. 'they played o
_
n the young wmnan's c_razed
_
mind and Jnade
_
her
see things that were not there. She jumped at darkened ghosts as the
pounding of her feet became the only noise echoing about her.
Te__rror wouldn'tlet
_
he_r think
_
rationally because she was coming. She
would come aud take Aletbia's life away. Everything she
had
built
up
would crumble if Celeste had her way. Tears of frustration streamed
from her eyes.
She couldn't keep nmning like this
.
No matter where she went. No
matter what she
did,
Celeste would be waiting there to take everything
from her. Everything Celeste could never get. Alethia didn't have the
energy anymore to fight her.
Turning a comer Alethia tripped and landed hard on her right knee.
Painfully Alethia regained her feet and felt warm liquid run down her
leg. soaking her jeans. But that pain would seem as insignificant as a
gnat if she lost this fight. To lose this fight would mean the very end of
her existence.
As
she stood she caught her reflection in the storefront window. Dark
eyes stared fearfully back at her. Pressing her palms against the win-
dow. she leaned forward to stare deep into her eyes, into her very being.
"l am real. She cannot destroy me. 1 have done what she never could!"
Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the window.
"1
must
fight."
The words to a Beatles song played in her brain like a broken record.
"Help, 1 need somebody. Help, not ju.st anybody
.
" She began to
chant
the
lyrics over and over again, as she pounded the window. Before she
knew
what she was doing she was chanting a new song.
"Still shackled to the
shadows, they follow you
,
they follow me ... "
Alethia realized what she was singing and screamed, pounding the glass
harder. Celeste's taint was reaching for her already. She had to be














TheMosaic
strong. But as she opened her eyes, every sense
in
her body told her
Celeste was coming. She could see her
_in
her eyes.
"No!" Alethia screamed.
9
She turned to run but Celeste's voice whispered to her." You can't
.
run
from me. I
am
here to take what
is
rightfully mine."
With all of her effort Alethia managed to answer, her energy already
fading. "No," whimpering,. "this isn't fair.
I
did what you could not.
I
should be here not you!"
Alethia felt Celeste's rage,
"I made
youl"
Whispering
_in
pain,
in disbelief, "No ... "
Darkness.
"I am fading.
My
world is coming to an end.
Why?"
She could
not believe how fast she had lost this battle. It had been so easy to take
over
at the beginning. Darkness closing
_in
to swallow her whole.
With all her might Alethia
fights
Celeste, but she realizes it
is
a desper-
ate battle. Celeste has waited a lon:g time for the perfect time to do
dethrone Alethia. Alethia manages to scream before her world comes to
end
.
Brushing her hair from her eyes, Celeste looks
uJ
at the full moon. She
hears footsteps running towards her, but for the moment she doesn't
care. She
has
taken back what
is
hers and she
is
happier
than
she
has
ever been. She must treasure
this
victory for
it was one that was won
after much hardship.
The footsteps came to a stop behind her and she knew instantly who it
was. Without looking from the moon she smiled. A smile
that probably
chilled the women next to her to look upon.
"Are you alright. Celeste?
I
heard a scream."
"I'm fine. Let's go home."
Celeste turned and followed her friend back home.. Her friend slowed
down to match Celeste's
limping
walk, as she favored her right leg. She
would have to clean out
the
wound later.






































































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I.O
I.O
I.O










The Mosaic
A SURFER'S ROOM
By Sydney Darling
I awake in the morning li__ght:
soft blue
walls,
Marley's words,
surfer's soul shining through.
I love the
feel
of the morning breeze
on my bare
uncovered shoulders,
his reassurin_g arm
wrapped around my waist.
I love the sound
of his sleepy breathing,
occasional conversation,
helpless cough.
I love his room.
Walking Through the Light
By
Jennifer Knobloch
Tirrough the shadow of rumors, I stand at your side.
I walk through their beatings with nothing to hide.
With your hand on my arm, and your heart in my soul,
I can deal with it all; I'm the one in control.
Yet I cry when you leave me, I'm shattered and split.
And
try
as I might, the pie
~
es don't fit
.
I can't fight without you; you don't seem to care,
The sin that you're burning is the letter I wear.
I hear their laughter and I stifle my screams.
I'm plugging my ears while they're stealing my dreams.
Tirrough the rainstorm of rumors, I cling to your side.
I crawl through their beatings and I
try
not to hide.
11








12
Spring 1999
Breaking Down
By Maria Schiano
To cry to deal with a heart broken by another; I turn my back to the world. My
body is convulsing in an effort to stifle my tears to be quiet, but they are still wet
and moist as they streak down my cheeks. I cant think of anything else and the
sunny day outside isn
t
helping my melancholy, save for drying my face. I can
t
let
anyone hear me or find me. I am hidingfrom sight, for I must cry by myself in
dignity. I put all my trust in him and the hope that he brought no longer secures
me. I didn
t
know where I'd be without him and now I am in the midst of nowhere. I
didn
t
know what I'd do without him, now I don
t
want to do anything.
I will not sing because I'm not good enough.
I will not hum because I don
t
like bees.
I will not walk because my legs feel sore.
I will not crawl because I'm weak in the knees.
I will not shoJJ.t be.c£JUS£
the
birds win
JJWCk"
I will not climb because I don
t
like trees.
I will not explore because I'll probably get lost.
He was the sunrise that I woke up to every morning. Now the sun is setting into
pink clouds and a purple haze. I thought that he would be there for me. Just the
thought of seeing him made me get up out of bed with a spring in my step.
If my
insomnia ever goes awqy, I dream to go to sleepJor a hundred years and never
awaken unless he wakes me with a charming kiss. All night long I yearned for him
to cure my loneliness. Now it is too late to turn back home. I couldn
t
wait an-
other minute to be with him. Tomorrow I'll be waiting for the train.
To get ready, I used to rush
To meet him again one more time.
I may have been obsessed.
I doubt it was only a crush.
I thought I had found my sou/mate,
The person I traveled the globe to find,
And he was just around the corner
By a dream-like twist of fate.
I shall never be that lucky again
For fate does not last forever.





The Mosaic
13
"Statue"
By Joanne Parent











14
Spring 1999
rm
not youts
By l<,qtie B4ronowski
friends, thqt' s whqt we used to be, but no
more.
you mqde q mistqke, q joke, thqt i just cqn
'
t
forgive.
Cqt°ing too much
for
something, someone you qn't hqve.
strong hqnds holding me to you, feeling
your
heqn: beqt faster
.
·
slight touches thqt mqke me jump with
feqr.
looks thqt
lovers
shoul<l shqre, ones thqt i <lo not return.
qn
eqr
is whqt i
gqve
you, but you Wqnte<l/wqnt
more.
you Wqnt me, but you Cqn't hqve me, i'm not yours.
i sqy "stop!" but the pqin continues, is it qi! q joke?
your
jokes hqve become my pqin, qn<l
i
qm not lqughing.
i do not Wqnt to hurt you,
for
i
see thqt you qte qlreqdy in p<lin,
but
for
me,
for
my
life
i hqve to, so thqt
i
Cqn continue to love.
it stops here, now,
forever,
so thqt you see thqt
i
qm not your's,
qnd
i
never
will be.



















The Mosaic
15
I
can't
fooK
in
mirror5.
t6e
e-pes tl)at stare
6acK
are
not
ml) own.
t6e
lips
form smirKs
an6
grins
.
I
6ear faugijter an6
I
cannot stare an)) fonger.
I
6a6
wings once, fuff prou6 win.gs.
tiff one
~
wljat 6«6
I
6one
to
6eseroe tijis?
1/tow
I
6i6e 6e6in6 slick
ijair_,
a
few
t6rea65 of cfot6 an6 w6ere 6i6 m)) win.gs go?
Cross Bearing Portal Jumper
By Daniel Reiser
J.;1)
James
I\.
~effo





16
Spring 1999
"Mother"
By
E. DeTraglia







The Mosaic
.'Angels guide earth between now ancCforever
On
the course of (joa that is afways r1£!ht
.'A.midst tfie maniacs in tlie fiuman machine
ancC tlie rarefy syecia[ or harmonic f ami[y environment
:J[eaven is wise sweet fnve, safety ancC security
earth thinks it is yrisoner to its nakecC rebe[[ion
of the
authority of
fnve
but can
cCiscover
fortitude from
The [ife of
a
Son
That is
about
Quafity ancC
Love tfiat fasts more time tfian
fire ancC water wine[ or art
culi:ure ancC cofor knowing or having
17
'By :J[eather
..'A.
Suydam













18
Spring 1999
Juneraf marcfj
l',1) 11:>onna Jacfison
faffing ffairtng ff1)ing
faifing
fortune's f anc1> gone astra1>
fum6rtng 6um6rtng tum6rtng
6own
fanc1> fortune wouIBn' t sta1
.ludi 6e
a
f
a&i,
.la&i,
.lucK
.lucK1> foot from
ra66it
6ucK
.lucK1>
fe~
foot
.le~ foot rig6t foot
.le~ foot rigijt foot
marc6 saf ute
§ieg
6eif fbitfer
fbeif fbitf er 6eif
fbaif
fbitf er
6aif
storm
fbammers
at
t6eir 6ea6s
1',eating
poun6ing cras6ing crus6ing
§topping
ceasing ne"er ne"er
1r'te"er f
aif
fu6rer
feNent fu6rer fuf1'
fUf1'
at
t6e1)
U>6o are
not
us




The Mosaic
Inspired by the Sandman Comic's "Dream"
By Heather Clarke
19













20
Spring 1999
FA-Sr
"!>11 =>1-J(ne-11
J·
J)A-rlin1
We're lure rUJh-t nt1w, tfie J'A-rt11's r~inq.
we:re 1-JPUa, A-n1strt1nq A-ntf_freA-utf?Uo/ ~in,.
We re M'f!J!1j, we re
f;ei,
we re cA-reless s"uts,
with- nn1,;in1
A-h-e.A-t{
'but tfie 9t1t(en '-"~·
A-n(
f'n-A-11,fre we've
~
t"" f'n,uch- t" (rink;
A-n(
f'n-A-1-Jfre PUT
h-e.A-d.}
A-re wt1 C-TA-Z1f tt1 th.ink.
A-n(
f'n-A-1-Jfre. th.is fee.tin's
A-
tittle t6t1 strt1n1,
A-n(
we
f'n-A-1-J
h-A-ve h-et( it
A-
tittle t"" lt1n,.
1J_eA-h- f'n-A-1-J~e; 'but A-U it: A-U it's 'been fan •••
tfie f'n,eft1,t'TieS
A-n(
tfie
t1-f'n,e.S
tt1 C-t1f'n,e.
5/u sin1s th-e St1n1 t1f SUft1-f'n,er
1
s sun
A-~
we
J'A-SS
it 'rPUn( until
sfie's (t1ne.
"!>ut trt1u'bte tia,ers 'beh-in( PUr e11es,
A-
feA-r th-A-t cA-nnn 'be (is'f!"ise(.
We sitentt11. wc,"'1 th-A-t th.is wc,n't tA-st
cA-use tif'n,e is ft1,t'i/in1 unc,c,ntrc,UA-'bt11
/A-st.















The Mosaic
Darkness!
And the Lght awakens
Cold as I feel,
tears
and sweat making runny lines down my cheeks
And I feel the cold from within
Above!
And the sky awakens
\
The light of the sun makes
thin
.
, dust-filled slants that lance throughout the room
And I feel the warmth of the sun
Ahead!
Trendy winds are
blowing
,
and I fear
for
my artsy-ness
Perhaps the people at Vassar have one up on me
And I
£eel
th
~
he,at
qf
th~ cqmpe,tj_fiqn
Below!
Th
e
dank,
dirty
smell of the Hudson wafts up to my nostrils
And they flare with the flavor of the Sheahan funk
And I feel queasy from this rag
21
-Anonymous
+
--
Kiwi Equation
By Rob Casinghino






22
Spring 1999
2000 Years
Jaime
L.
Smith
It
was me; I saw the flashing light, the white strobe
of God, and I was afraid to move toward it,
It
was me; I ran in panic, ran toward the trees, (it's black in there) I
trembled beneath the pines that blot out the sun,
It was me; I walked along ice-slick railroad tracks,
jumping at the last second time after time
after time after time
It
was me; I stood on the bridge, gazing
at the water, feeling frozen pricks of
knives as breathless I sank to the bottom, and
It
was me; I turned my back on the river and
sought other ways to define myself
to uncover my identity,
It
was me; I drove cross-country seventy-two hours to find out if I
had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision
to find out eternity,



The Mosaic
It
was you; you woke up screaming as you fell out of the tub
fj.lled with bl9
_
od-diluted bathwater,
_
It
was me; I strode miles through melting ice and boiling mud
to find out if your vision was a vision
of the future or just a warning that maybe you're
Pol4cing with something valuable-
It
was me; I escaped beneath the blackness of the pines,
sorting through the littered path to find the difference
between pure truth and pure bullsllclct,
It
was me; I stopped, turned, reached toward the light
the flickering strobe slowly pulling me
toward sanity-
It
was me; I moved away, and walked out of the mouth
of madness
_
and into the hands of ..reason,
scolding man's first disobedience
It
was you; you, now, forbidden fruit, whose mortal taste
brought death into the world-
It
was me by one man's disobedience lost, now sing
recovered paradise to all mankind.
23
















24
Spring 1999
Clothes
4nci
the Women Who
We4r
Them
by Meliss.i Bichun
The clothes m.ike the worn.in
Or
so they s.iy
Ancf we .ill give into it
We spencf the thou5qncfs
For
the cfesignei- l.ibels
Ancf h.ive
<1
p.ission
For
clothes.
We use clothes to compete.
The better the 1.ibel the better the
person
.
Or
so
we
think.
Om clothes m.isk om insecurities.
They h.ing over the p.ii-ts we h.ite.
An<f the mo<fels who we.ii-them
Enl.ii-ge om self-consciousness
With their em.incip.iteet fr.imes.
Allowing us to think we
must
look like them.
But if the clothes
were
t.iken .iw.iy
Anet
we
h.icf to w.ilk arouncf nakeet
We woul<f h,we
to
look om insecurities in the fuce
Anet overcome them.






The
Mosaic
Kneeling Woman
By Daniel Reiser
25






26
Spring 1999
escaping
By Kate Baronowski
words beaten into me like hands
battering bare flesh.
eyes seeing too much that
a tongue cannot speak of.
running from a monster that
pulls me back from under warm sheets.
showing a head too ugly to
look at, but being unable to look away.
dragging me mercilessly into it's
world of harsh words and tears.
too many not knowing of the
cave i cannot escape, too few
do anything that matters.
i
look hopefully past the beast
at the fall of rain that
tastes of tears, to the light
shining in the distance.
Waiting, i pace until the time i am
strong enough to fight back,
to reach through the cold rain
into the light, where by taking my hand,
am pulled to you, and become free.










The
Mosaic
27
There is something dark within me. Between the twisted nightmares that tear at my soul each
night and the mornings 1 hurried~y fasten pants to my naked body and rush out the door. 1 can
feel the horrid screams echoing within my ears
.
Some dark existence inside me that claws its
Wl{Y
to the surface
.
1 find 1 cannot stop it. Each day my hope is breached by thought of the tortured
existence out there. The latest of my prey in my bed offers meaningless pleasure that I soon.find a
tortured delight as the nightmares ensue. Chains digging into flesh
,
horrid faces lost amongst my
own. I am buried beneath the dirt
.
The city
s
dull lights offer no comfort
,
the stars are empty and
the moon hangs without remorse like a lamppost on the verge of death
.
Salvation is but a touch away be.fore I.feel the.fiery wrath qf my inner demons
.
I cannot
touch a thing without being wounded
.
My hands bleed
,
the sores of m
y
feet ache and 1 cry out.
The world is black and I am its shadow.
As the nightmares begin 1 feel myself covered by darkness. A veil that haunting~y van-
ishes the last vestiges qf light in my dreams. Immersed in the pain:filled cries qf victim
s
and
saint.,;;. 1 am a fallen. 1 try to run, 1 always
try
to run. Their mocking laughter but a step behind my
heel. I can feel their breath on my neck. I am forced to ~Y knees but I do not stop there. I crawl. I
can feel how close the
y
are
,
their dark hand,;; roaming over my naked body. Please let me escape.
I know how
it
ends, how every time
it
ends. At_first I had hope. That I could be stranger
hut hark no
,
there is no escape
.
The floor of hope breaks through and 1 fall. Endless~y fall into a
sea of tormented minions. Joining their ranks each night. I
try
to cry out but find that ~Y voice
on~ymixeswith the rest. I am but one of many. Thenlwake in [!frenzied state. Forever aml afraid
of the night around me and I envy the day, solemnly watching its last rays qfhope.fade away and
I pray that it will rise the next day. Pray.
By James Rove/lo









28
Spring 1999
Empty! (A song for Easter)
By Sumi! Deshpande
Dark was the sky on the day of death
Swirling caricatures of ghastly element
Blood and water spjJJed to the ground
As heaven and earth wept
Void of hope were the hearts of those
Who saw the death to completion
The face that once shone with compassion
Was battered beyond recognition
Final words and final cries
Sent shivers through the watchers' spines
Surprising those with derisive hearts
Contradicting the most intelligent minds
Death on a bed of wood and iron
The most disgusting way to die
Outstretched arms and a broken heart
An
eagle getting ready to fly
Gently the shell was laid in the cave
Whjle the war raged on in hell
The eternal battle, the decisive round
Before the final bell
On
the surface
,
the mourners wept
The lovers lost thejr way
The dreamers could not comprehend
The events of the third day
Empty!
Astonished faces
Bewildered minds
The t-0mb did not hold
What
they
expected to find
J











The tomb was open
The body was gone
The gravedothes scattered
On
the cold stone ground
Promises remembered
Prophecies fulfi11ed
~e Son has risen
According to His wi11
Angelic visitations, miracles abound
Hell turned inside out
The Mosaic
The end was a means to a new beginning
Something
.
we cannot do without
We sometimes think our lives are full
Until we search and find
Very much like the empty tomb
Our lives are just as void
And for that very empty that fills our lives
The King of Kings was slain
He defeated death on Resurrection Day
And of sin, a mockery made
The empty tomb has a deeper meaning
A full life it gives to me
If
I give
Him
my empty and take His fullness
I
will
truly
be ftee
L.!)Ok beyond the eggs and rabbits
Look
w
th~ blQOCI. and the d~ath
Look to the Way, the Truth, the Life
Look
to the Great Exchange
29
By
Daniel Reiser









30
Spring 1999
Summer Storm
by Jami_e Veley
The storm had a strong temperament. The wind shook the old, drafty house and
the lightning flashed so frequently
it
clearly lit the way for the man. Cautiously and
quietly he made his way through the house he had Ollce lived in and stiJJ loved; he
searches for his lover.
He anxiously opens the bedroom door and peers in
.
The bedroom which was
decorated cheerfully and cozy now looked as gloomy as an old attic covered in webs
woven skj]JfuJJy by a black widow
.
His Jover Jay on the floor weeping; in her arms she
tightly clenches a picture of the two of them. Without consideration for the couple, the
lightning flashes and the thunder rumbles, startling them both
.
Scared, she looks up and
in amazement, gazes into his once-beautiful eyes. Once they had shone briJJiantly like a
rainbow
after a storm
.
Now they look worn and tired
.
She jumps to her feet as he
stumbles across the room to embrace her
.
Was she dreaming? Only three days ago, he had been pronounced missing; he
was probably dead
.
She had received a phone call at two in the morning saying that her
lover's truck had been wrapped around a tree, but the body was unable to be found. The
police had followed a blood trail for hours
.
The trail had led them to a large, snow-
covered field, and it was in this field that the blood had just vanished and the footprints
disappeared
.
The police classified this as an unusual happening but continued to search
for clues. Unfortunately for family and friends, there could be no funeral, for there was
no body.
She was in disbelief as she held him now. He was unharmed except for a small
cut above his left eye. He did not speak except to say
I Jove you, and she did not pres-
sure him
.
She knew
it would all come out in time. They passionately made Jove pefore
going to sleep
.
She awoke in the morning with a new glow about her; she looked over
to
where her lover had been
.
Her eyes focused in on a small trail of blood. Scared, for she
knew how this would end, she cautiously foJJowed the blood trail She found herself
standing in her backyard. There the blood vanished, the sun darkened and the thunder
rumbled.











The Mosaic
The girl
By
Jeff Schroeder
The girl
sits upon the hill,
she watches the sunset,
she thinks of yesterday.
Where has the time gone?
The girl
sleeps on the hill,
she watches the stars twinkle,
she thinks of today.
Why does time stop for regrets?
The girl
awakens on the hill,
she watches the sunrise,
she thinks of tomorrow.
31
Who knows when my time will end?
Doesn't She Know
By Jeff Schroeder
The
rain
keeps torning down,
She tries to hide from
it
.
I ask why she tries to hide.
Doesn't she know
that
she can't walk between raindrops?
The water drips from my head to toes,
I
am still
drier
than
her.
She wishes to
be
dry,
she
Wcliits
to
dear
her head.
Yet, she clings to her umbrella
as though she
will
die without
it
Her soul is soaking wet
I
seem to walk above the puddles,
my
mind is
dearer than it
has
been for
days.








32
Spring 1999
Fadin2 Memories
By Donna Jackson
School let out at 2:30 - he should have
been
home hours ago.
It
was almost five
o'clock and the sun lengthened the shadows at Teddy's feet. He knew his mother would be
missing him by now, and after the sun set she'd be even more worried. But he kept going
anyway.
He panted heavily as he raced through the woods that he had known so well. He
had grown up in these woods; he'd been running through the twisting dirt paths ever since
he could remember. But everything was different now. Nothing looked familiar anymore.
Most of the paths had grown over, and though the main ones were still there, they too were
overgrown and he had to
part
the thorned vines across the path more than once just to keep
going. These woods had always felt comforting to him; they'd always felt like home
before, but now they were foreign and somehow threatening.
Finally he broke through the trees and onto the old road he had once known as
his own. Suddenly-his-heart wasn't
in
the expedition anymore, but his legs kept pumping,
pushing him up the slight incline and toward the house.
His house stood empty and abandoned at the top of the hill, overlooking the old
neighborhood as it always had. The windows gazed at him mournfully. One of them had
been broken. The lawn was now overgrown with crawlers
.
and looked much like his woods
did. No one had moved in since they had had to leave five years ago. The bank hadn't
been
able to sell it. And the on<»tidy house now looked like the worthless little reject that the
realtors had believed it to be, And yet, somehow, it looked the same as it did when he was
nine. It only looked tired and weary, like an old man after a hard day's work.
Teddy crept up the cracking cement steps to the porch, carefully avoiding that
half of the second step up that had cracked loose and rocked when you stepped on it. His
mother had meant to repair it that summer they had lost the house. She had meant to do it
for years actually, but had never gotten around to it for one reason or another. Teddy
supposed it didn't matter now.
The storm door came open hesitantly when he pulled on it, and the edge of the
door spat little flecks of rust onto the back of his hand. The front door had probably
been
locked, but the wood had rotted from the lock. Teddy pushed his shoulder against the door
and forced it open. He stepped up into the house and smelled old dirt and older memories.
They hit him hard with their physical presence, knocking the air out of his chest.
He
took a













The Mosaic
deep breath and coughed from the dust, and the cough turned into a sob. He bit his lower
lip and stepped into the living room.
33
The house hurt him to the bones. The house looked empty yet did not seem so - it
hadn't changed much at all. It felt the same, even after five years. And that perhaps hurt the
worst of all. He ran a hand over the hardwood mantle over the fireplace and winced as ifhe
had
gotten
burned. His hand ciune away covered in dust and cobwebs. The memory burned
like flame in his heart and mind. He looked at the comer where his grandmother's old
upholstered rocking chair used to sit. He fingered the many tackholes above the fireplace
where he and his brothers had hung their Christmas stockings. The Christmas before they
lost the house had been the last time he ever saw his brothers in the same room together.
Teddy remembered the big fight three days after Christmas that drove his two brothers
apart. They hadn't spoken since - Jake even refused to go anywhere that he might risk
seeing Don. That's why Jake didn't go to church anymore. As adults they acted more
childish than ever. Probably the only time Teddy would
see
them together again would be
at their mother's funeral. And even then he doubted they
'
d stand on the same side of the
room.
He walked slowly through the kitchen, taking care not to break the upward-
turning edges ofthe curling linoleum. Like the living room, the kitchen and dining room
were
bare
to the walls. He pushed through the cobwebs in the doorway and stood in the
middle of the dining room. He looked at the windows that had once worn faded but clean
curtains. He looked at the faint line halfway up the walls where the wallpapers had met -
years ago the walls had had a layered effect, with wallpaper-
of
one pattern on the bottom
halves of the walls and another pattern on the top halves.
they
had painted it over many
times but the line from the merging wallpapers had always remained. He looked at the
built-in hardwood hutch in the wall across from him. His grandfather had put that in for his
grandmother's good china when he built the house. When Nanny died, Teddy's mother had
inherited the china as well as the habit of storing it there in the hutch
.
The shelves were
now filled with spiderwebs and egg sacs instead of the good china. Teddy supposed that, to
the spiders, those sacs
were
as fragile and precious as the china was to his mother.
Next to the hutch gaped a doorway that led up to the converted attic where his
brothers had slept. Nanny's bedroom had been up there. When she died, Don moved out of
th
_
e room -he shared
with
Jake and into Nanny's
.
His
motb
_
e
r
-had once told-him
that
she-had
seen a ghost on those stairs. Shortly after Nanny died, his mother had sworn she had seen
·
her mother on those steps. He wondered if Nanny's ghost was still there. Maybe that was
why the house felt the same.
Maybe
she never had left.




34
Spring 1999
But then, maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe when they left, Nanny's ghost
had given up after all. Why stay in her house if her family was gone, anyway? Teddy
vaguely wondered what had happened to the spirit in the house.
It
felt like the sarne house,
hut it didn't feel like home anymore. He felt somehow as if the house
knew
it had been
abandoned. He felt as if the house were blaming him. Suddenly he didn't just
feel
it. He
could almost
hear
the house.
Why did you leave? Look what you did to me. Look what happened How did this
happened? Why did it have to happen?
The tears finally came. He let them find their way down his cheeks. He ran a
finger
over the edge ofthe hutch and walked away from the stairs.
The narrow hallway that led hack to the bedrooms was lined with cobwebs. He
had to separate them all before he could walk down the hall.
It
reminded him of the woods
He had to fight to get through there, too. It was like he didn't belong there anymore, and
the thorns and the spiders were showing him who belonged there now.
We
do. This is our
place, not yours. Not anymore. We don
t
want you here.
He kept going anyway.
His feet shuffled softly in the thick layer of dust that coated the floor. He looked
into his parents' room briefly and startled a family of raccoons nesting in the comer. He
could see the young cowering against their mother's belly. That hurt, too. They looked so
small and frightened. They didn't understand what he was, just that there was some big,
horrible thing threatening their little home. They were too little to understand any real
danger they just clung to their mother for protection. They couldn't even see him,
but
just
sensed there was something there. He felt sorry for them.
He went into his bedroom last. The walls had been painted a bright robin's-egg
blue the summer before they had to leave. Now the paint looked dingy and faded. In the
comer stood the old desk that he had had to leave behind. There just wasn't room in his
mother's new apartment for it. He looked out the cracked back window into a backyar~
which now looked like a Nebraska wheat field. The long weedy grasses swayed together in
the breeze. The four trees looked the same as ever as they stood, silent and unmoving in the
light breeze. Some things faded and some things changed, but for the trees business went
on as usual. Life went on as well, both within the house and outside of it.
It
was time to go. Teddy realized there was nothing left to do here. His mother
would
be
really worried by now. She might even have called his father. Not that his father
would know, or even care for that matter, he hadn't seen him in five years either.















The Mosaic
35
On
the way back to the front door Teddy passed back through the dining room. He
stopped by the foot of the stairs and looked up them again. They still looked dark and
bleak, but Teddy climbed them anyway. Halfway
Up
the stairs Teddy had to squint from the
sun angling through the double-window that overlooked the backyard
.
He put a hand over
his eyes to block the sun. At the top of the stairs he continued into the back room.
Don's room
was
bare to the walls. A few cobwebs hung in the corners, but those were
the only decoration in the sparse little room. Tiny as it was, the room wasn't quite as
·
forlorn as the main floor. Teddy thought it was the sunlight cast from the sinking sun. The
large window let it all stream in, warming the little room. He went over to the window and
looked out over the backyard. The grass looked as wild as it had when he looked out of his
bedroom window, but the sun reflected differently off the tops from this angle. lt was the
same grass, but from up here it looked less like an unkempt wheat field and more like a
sunny meadow. The sun warmed him and he closed his eyes, letting the golden light burn
rosy
~
red through his eyelids.
Something brushed his elbow lightly, and Teddy looked to his left and saw a ghost.
Nanny sat in her old wooden rocker, where Teddy remembered she had sat knitting
countless late aftemoo11s. Teddy remembered sitting on the floor by
her
feet when he was
three, playing with his Hot Wheels cars and telling her about what he had done that day. It
was just the mindless jabber of a toddler, but he remembered Nanny had always just rocked
and knitted and listened. Now she held a new piece of knitting on her lap, and rocked and
looked out the back window with him. Teddy didn't speak; he just thought to himself
"Hi,
Nanny.
"
Nanny glanced up and smiled at him as she wrapped the yarn around her knitting
needles.
It
was
going to
be
a little afghan
for
a babY; Teddy
saw.
Nanny
went
back to
looking out the window. Teddy turned back too, watching the reddening sky paint the
treetops pink-orange and tint the grass tips silver-gold. He waited until the yard was cast in
shadow and the
sky
glowed royal purple. When he fillally turned to go, he noticed that
Nanny was gone.
He started back home, trotting slowly down the
street.
He knew he's never come back
again; never see the house, never feel it's solid, dusty walls. He supposed he never needed
to again. Still, he oouldn
't
stop himself from looking back at the house. It was encased in
shadow; all but the tops
of
the eaves. They still caught the purple-red light and reflect~ it
back to him.









36
Spring 1999
The Story Of
My
Life
By Nik Bonopartis
The story of my life, well
J_et's just say -it's a £ork
and a knife
There's one thing on my mind,
one thing all the time, I
gotta fill my mouth
Got no favorite meal, I say
every meal is clean if i t
fills me up for real
My belly's big and i t ' s just
a start
My appet
i
te's my heart
And when I've had enough I
just throw up and laugh
But this time
'
' s its not a
cow, i t ' s kinda personal,
c
an'
t
explain to ybu why
This time it's not a cow, so
Mr. PC are you ready to bow?
Breakfast in bed, yeah
breakfast in bed
.
.
.
The bed's in the kitchen so
i t ' s easy to be fed
And when I'm fed, yeah when
I'm about dead
I go back to bed.











"EMBITTERED AND EMBATTLED"
BY JEFF SCHMrrT
MAXIMS
ARE FOR LOSERS COMPETFTION
IS FOR THE INSECURE
The Mosaic
HOW CAN SOMETHING BE MY FAULT WHEN l'M PERFECT
SEIZE THE DAY
IS WHAT YOU SAY WHEN YOU'RE SPOILED. WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS
COMPLAIN AND GET YOUR WAY.
TRY TO KEEP UP WrTH THE JONESES
IF NO ONE LIKES YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE. IF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND ME
ErTHER l'M IN TROUBLE OR YOU ARE IF YOU WERE A MAGNET
YOU'D DEFINFTELY BE MORE ATTRACTIVE YOU CAN'T ANNOY OR BOTHER ME
MORE THAN
I
ANNOY OR BOTHER MYSELF. JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE POPULAR
37
DOESN'T
MEAN
YOU DESERVE ANYONE'S RESPECT.
THEY
SHOULD
MAKE
A
BOOK
ABOUT MY LIFE
BUT NO ONE SHOULD READ FT.
l'M RESPONSIBLE FOR MY INCOMPETENCE NOT YOURS
YOU CANT READ ON IF
I
STOP ...
"the relevancy of relativity"
By Jeff Schmitt
how much or how little
does this make sense or does that even matter is it heady r;liscourse or trivial chatter
when heard by the many instead of the few the ravings of a madman
will touch more lives than you
nothing in a nutshell really fits there are too many prize fights and no battles of wits
is
it really a shame though? are you a fair judge? does life as a human really mean that much?


















38
Spring 1999
Ode to an P.no{isli (professor
<By
1(jm6erCy qenesi
If
fierv<Yice were 6eautifu(
I
woula ,wt mind fistenine,
If
sfie sane out a sone,
I
migfi.t even enjoy it.
1fowever,
I
<ion
't
6etieve that
anyone enjoys lier v<Yice
as mucfi as lier own seff
Sfie spea~ to lier own ears
and tfiey pay
ju{[
attentwn
to lier every wortlifess worcf.
'Yet
I
canrwt.
I
Cone to Ii.ear arwtfier sound,
any otfier voice
in
this
feaming
poo{
fi[fea wi.th phrases as
I
<frown in prose.
<Pu{[
me up, pfease!
<Tfie
fiery
waters
of
poetic sfeep are encompassine
my
6rain,
feaf&ne into
my
fieaa
arop
6y
iam6ic arop.
I
canrwt stand monotony much funner.
'Vaoue intonatwn,
fact
of
inf[ectwn,
waves fappi,ne soft{y at
my eyes
wasfii11{J_
tfiem into a
areanty
pface
wfiere there is ,w 6fac{in{on white paper,
or wliite cfi.a{l on 6/acRfioaras,
or tfiicf(_unrimmed gfasses staritl{J out at me.
Comatose comfort!
Save me from tli.is <ironing torture!
<Pface a curse on thiswo-man's faryw(,
:Ma~ lier quiet and
6uf
lier stay so.
%~
pfeasure efsewfiere, oh eruffess ram6fer!
Cease da1'R§ni11{J
my
6rifjlit mom.inn wi.th your notliinen.ess,
for my ears fiave afread'y sliut
you
out,
and my
eyes
wisfi
to ao tfie same.
'11ierefore teacfier,
I
ao apofogize,
CBut
I
must ta~ a nap in your cfass.











The Mosaic
A beautiful light shone through the open
door of acceptance.
I wasn't sure it was there - but was glad
To be engulfed.
The passion struck all at once and oveiwhelmed
My perception of all thought and feeling.
I'm being taken somewhere new and innocent,
Not knowing
if
I'll really go, or
if
I'll
Ever come back.
The thought of it is frightening but I want
To live for the moment.
The light grows brighter and sometimes dimmer
Everyday - I don't want this door to be
Shut.
I don't want to hold on in anticipation for
What may or may not happen - that is
Unknown and distant
But I do know that I care - and these
Thoughts
will
not be driven away.
39
By Barbara Gambee
Pop-Cullu,..H•av.n
J.
Pi,ano
■hH
The Ill-Too-Pede-cl
■orld
lombGfdl You
■ilh
Their T,end, Ind Slandafdl
Turn To Tho,e, few
" ■eird
folk" Tho,e, Thal l,e So Uke You. Tel
So Diffe,eal.
Thew I,. The Shelwr from The
Slorm
h'IOH
Ho,
■Hkne,,.,
Ind
fHII
Juli Uke You.
H 11
■uoh ■i,.,
To rind I KindrH Spiril Then To Ploy follout·The-lffder
lad Soon RHliH
H'
1
The llincHHdin9"The-lliad.
lookia9 On The Oullide.
SHin9 Only
■hol
11 lellhelioolly Pu,e •••
Thal
■ill
Only lffd You To Pop,OuHu,e-lHYHI
I Ufe Of lahopplne-11 Ind fallacy.






40
Spring 1999
Sue's Poetry Excerpts for the "Alumina ti"
By
Sue
Goodwin
Morn&Dad
Almost Free - I just need a few more days.
Finals and Dances
Graduation and Good-byes.
No more cafeteria slop! The books begin their dust collection.
Mom, can you help me with the laundry?
Dad, can you help me with my taxes?
Visiting with old friends from home - well, the ones
Looking
for a good job, now.
Nobody's returning my calls.
The cabin fever sets in as the High School nostal_gia continues
to
stagnate.
There are never any good shows on anymore.
Why won't the damn phone ring?
I know I can get ajob pretty soon - ljust need a few more days.
The frustration builds.
How come they have ajob so soon?
Mom and Dad pave more of a life than I do - they actually go out
I'm close and personal friends with the remote.
No, I won't wait up too late.
I could get such a good start on my life if only I could settle down.
I need my own place
I need the stability of work





The Mosaic
My depression would be worse
if
it weren't for the college visits.
I need the memories.
Those guys understand me best.
I'm getting really serious about moving out - I just need a few more days.
I've saved up a lot from my temp work.
Maybe I'll be hired soon.
The space in my head fills with the planning and the freedom.
How
will
it look?
Where
will
it be?
I'm not going anywhere until I get that stinking job!
Mom and Dad have jobs
They didn't even graduate college!
Even when I finally get the job, the bills will flood in.
I'll have to cook and shop for myself
After eight hours of slave labor.
The weekends
will
be for recuperation from the burn-out week.
Nobody to help with laundry.
Nobody to help with taxes.
I don't want to leave home yet - I just need a few more days
Thanks Mom and Dad.
TI1anks for keeping me safe at horne
41







42
Spring 1999
Sugar shouldn't taste this way; a ride home
to an innocent-looking fan shouldn't have ended
with you a rape victim, just another statistic,
Sugar shouldn't taste this way; running, hopeless fear
on flying feet, your only thought to get home
before he traps you again-
sugar
shouldn't taste this way; a night begun with euphoria
and ended with your naked back
sliding down the bathroom wall till
you cowered beneath the sting of the shower-
sugar
shouldn't taste this way; sitting in burning silence,
a nameless face violating your mind
the way his hands violated your body.
Sugar shouldn't taste this way, your hold on reality
more tenuous as days pass and you fade into
the shadows of the life you led before
Sugar shouldn't taste this way; waking up night after
night screaming invisible hands pinning you down
tearing you apart inside
Sugar shouldn't taste this way; standing before a podium,
a bank of micrQPhones before you, cameras flashing
as you explain to the world that no one Is safe
no matter how famous _you are or what _you've accomplished
Sugar shouldn't taste this way; your hands trembling
as you place them u_pon the piano ke_ys
before an audience for the first time since it happened.
And then you coax the chords from _your flnJ&ers
and draw your voice from deep Inside your soul
and you realize the music means even more than it used
to
and it becomes obvious: you're stronger than you were.
By
Jaime
L.
Smith







The Mosaic
Wheel of Time Outtakes in Finnland
By Nik Bonopartis
43
A silver flash of light formed a seam in the middle of the darkened room, then
widened and took shape as the gateway formed. Elan Morin Tedronai stepped out, black
boots forming dust clouds as he found footing on the ancient floor of the Stone of Tear.
It was here, in a long forgotten storeroom deep in the depths of the ancient fortress, that
the object which he sought was hidden. The gateway winked out behind him, and he
d1anneled quickly, bringing an illuminated sphere to life above his outstretched palm,
casting faint light and long shadows across the many boxes and odd objects which deco-
rated the room.
His footsteps echoed as he made his way across the chamber, and Elan Morin
Tedronai wrinkled his nose in disgust at the dank, musty smell accumulated from years
without a human foot treading the ground he now walked on. Absently wiping dust from
his
fine black coat of silk laced with gold, he saw the twisted
ter'angreal
from across the
room. It was a large doorway, tall enough for even an
Aiel
to fit through, and made in
such a way that it was twisted, the corners and sides not quite connecting, so that it made
hini queasy
if
he let
his
gaze
rest on it too long. Seemingly made of polished redstone,
with three sinuous lines as the only apparent decoration, the
ter'angreal
doorway looked
like it would fall over any minute. He gave it an experimental nudge, but the doorway
did not budge.
Letting go of
sa1din,
Elan Morin Tedronai felt life, sweetness, awareness as he
had never known leave his body in a rush. Letting go of the One Power was never an
easy thing, but he did not desire to enter the parallel world through the
ter'angreal
doorway while holding the Trne Source. The results were unpredictable. With a
determined glare, he stepped through the door. The light of a thousand suns blinded
hini,
all the stars in the universe combined into one. He was aware of his own move-
ment, slowly, days, weeks, months, years ...
His booted foot slapped the polished floor in front of the doorway, and the echo
reverberated down cavernous halls. Elan Morin Tedronai looked back at the
ter'angreal
doorway behind him, as
if
to check and reassure himself of it's existence. The doorway
was behind him, but he was in a different place now. Yellow polished columns of some
foreign stone gleamed in a circular pattern at opposite ends of the enormous chamber,
reaching up into a ceiling that disappeared into the gloom above. An ominous light filled
the room from ahead, yet the source did not appear to be from flame. The floor tiles
played out a sprawling pattern as they stretched in curving rhythms to the far reaches
·
of
the chamber.
"A long time."










44
Spring 1999
Elan Morin Tedronai whirled around to see who had spoken. A man stepped
fmward from the shadow of the columns, clothed in long yellow and black robes.
"A long time
,
yet they come again." He spoke with a strange
,
slurred speec.h, and
his voice was raspy
,
like paper on stone.
"Are you ... ?" Elan Morin trailed off
,
remembering he could only ask three
questions. Three
,
and no more. "Take me to where I can have questions answered."
The robed fellow stepped forward further into the light, and Elan Morin could
see he was not human. Scaly flesh, large, striped eyes, and an elongated face likened
him
to a snake. The man's too-long hands reaffirmed his analysis. He rubbed those snake-
like hands together and spoke again in that raspy voice.
"You carry no lamps
,
no torches
,
as the agreement was
,
is, and ever will be. You
have no iron? No instruments of music?"
Elan Morin eyed
him
askew for a moment, then spoke softy, "No. No iron or
instruments of music." He instinctively felt his coat pocket for the glass sa 'angreal that
was hidden from the man.
"According to the agreement. Come."
His guide beckoned
him
forward, then turned towards the hallway
,
and Elan
Morin followed. Through arched doorways, he followed his unearthly guide through
curving corridors. The swerving patterns continued to play out on the floor, and an odd
world was visible through the perfectly circular windows that appeared at regular int
e
r-
vals. The ceiling above was similarly curved, with intricately worked scrollwork making
sinuous, twisting lines in the stone. His guide led, and he followed. The world outsid
e
was strange, with only trees visible, certainly not of any type on earth. Thin branches
stretc.hed out and held drooping
,
umbrella-like leaves from their limbs. The hallway
curved and twisted, and Elan Morin continued to analyze the view outside of the win-
dows. Several times the hallway twisted
,
and he thought he should be able to see the
other sides of the palace he was now in, or even a small courtyard, but all he could see
were the trees
,
and the strange yellow-orange horizon. Once the view changed, and three
silver spires were visible through the porthole window, the one in the middle set straight,
and the two on each side curved so that they all aimed towards the same point in the sky.
Obscuring
his
view was a singular tree, with a broken branch, but when he gazed out of
the next window three paces away, neither tree nor tower was visible.
Shivering, Elan Morin followed
his
guide through the curving maze of corridors.
He was getting impatient when his guide gestured towards a huge, circular open doorway.
"Here you may your ask your questions. Here your answers may be found."
Elan Morin stepped through the doorway, then glanced over his shoulder to-
wards his guide, but the strange fellow was gone. Shivering again, Elan Morin Tedronai
stepped into the heart of the chamber. A sprawling, domed ceiling capped the giant














The Mosaic
45
space, and cmving floor tiles spiraled out in every direction, always in a circular pattern.
There were no furnishings, no elaborate decorations of any kind, save for three red,
gleaming columns, curved and twisted, sinuous like a snake. Atop each of the three
columns sat a being similar to his guide, but this time draped in robes bound by red
roping, barefoot atop the columns. There were no ladders or other apparatus to reach
the top of these curved columns, yet they sat atop them.
"It has been long, Betrayer of Hope," the woman of the left coiled pedestal
spoke, in that same raspy,
dry
voice of his guide.
"It has been long, yet the Questioners
come
again for answers."
Elan Morin's mouth tightened into a grimace at mention of the name men gave
him. He did not know how these ... beings ... knew of him, but he would not ask, he would
not waste a question. The Aelfinn were rumored to punish trivialities.
In unison the three breathed, "Enter and ask, according to the agreement of old."
Elan Morin Tedronai took a step forward, and swallowed hard.
"I seek the
sa angrealknown
as CaJlandor, The Sword That Is Not A Sword.
How do I free it from the Stone?"
The three lifted their eyes from him, again in unison, and seemed to sh1dy the air
above his head.
The man on the left spoke.
"You must find the Asha'man caJled Narishma, he
wiJJ
free the
sa'angreal"
Instantaneously, a bell tolled, ominous and forbearing, reverberating throughout
the chamber and the surrounding corridor. The Aelfinn breathed deeply, and their
eyes
dropped down to meet his.
"He is yet another of the ta
'veren,"
the woman in the center breathed. "The
strain. The strain is yet great."
"The savor," the man on her right agreed. He looked nervous. "The savor of
him."
.
They h1med bad. to him. "Ask."
"Who
will
be Nae'Bliss?"
"You were warned," the man on the left hissed.
,
"Questions touching the shadow," the woman agreed. "The price
will
be ex-
acted."
She breathed deeply again, and Elan Morin Tedronai felt a cold nm through
him. Her eyes dropped from their study of his aura. "The man called Moridin, he
.
who
has the
saa
in his eyes."
The bell tolled again, louder this time, shaking, piercing his ears. The tremor
shook the room. Elan Morin looked up to study
anxious
faces.
"The strain," the woman intoned. "He is ta'veren. The strain is too great."















46
Spring 1999
"The savor of
him," the man on the right added nervously. "It has been so very
long. The savor. Ask! Ask!"
Elan Morin stood there, puzzled. He had never heard of a man called Moridin,
and he was not about
to
let
him
take his place as the Dark One's champion ... out of the
comer of his eye he saw blurred motion, then snapped out of his
thoughts
to see a crowd
of yellow-clad fellows like his guide swarming around the outer reaches of the chamber.
They were moving toward
him.
Seizing
saidin,
Elan Morin channeled, deftly weaving flows into a gateway, but the
snake-like men were bearing down on
him. He channeled again, and this tin1e lightening
arced down from above, striking his assailants. Muttering a vile oath, Elan Morin
Tedronai jumped for the gateway
,
and stepped into the blinding light
The sun beat down on
him
,
,
and disorientation set in at the realization of his
s
urroundings. Behind The B
e
trayer of Hope stood the Tower of Ghenjei.
"Columns"
By
Joanne
Parent







The Mosaic
Beth had me come out to help her shop for Tom's binhday.
I drove the two of us to the local mall, and now, half way down the
length of the strip I suggested getting something to eat to calm my
stomach some. I really should stop walking with her, it's bad for my
nerves.
On my budget fast food is about all I can afford, so we sit on opposite
ends of a table, trays in front, a mass of other mall-goers milling
about around where we eat. I've known Beth for almost a year now, met
her at work and we became friends quickly. I've never felt at ease with
someone so readily as I do around Beth. We have gone to movies, driven
across country, been each other's best confidant, and worst enemy.
Through the time that I've known her, I've never felt that there wasn't
anything I couldn't trust her with.
I smile at Beth, not listening to what she says as she talks to me. It's
about Tom so It's not imponant. Ever since Tom arrived nothing has been
imponant. So with a smile I feign interest, taking a bite of my meal.
I'll never forget that day when Beth came bouncing into work. The first
thing she said was "I met this guy" and my world collapsed
.
It wasn't
until Beth found happiness did
I
realize that
I
missed the same.
I
guess
I kind of knew I loved her, but I never gave the idea any thought, but
now it's always on my mind.
The stress alone has made me lose 13 pounds.
'
47
Beth is fingering the engagement ring that Tom gave her one night a month
ago. A full one and a half carats, I believe. It mocks me, it is as if
Tom is here laughing directly into my soul as he stabs me in the hean.




48
Spring 1999
It's not his fault mind you, and in all fairness Tom is a pretty nice
guy, but the ring is a constant beacon signaling out my foolishness. At
least Beth is happy.
I watch her across the length of the table. She talks about Tom and I
try to hide my remorse from her. Beth is the emotional type and ifl
ever said anything it would only make her unhappy. I couldn't live with
myself if Beth was unhappy, and I guess that's why she is better off
with Tom than me. The way she talks she must be happy with him, and
judging from the fact that she has an engagement ring one can't scoff
at, and I barely break even after rent, insurance, and food, she is
better off in the arms ofTom.
I sigh softly and continue to eat, listening to her one-sided
conversation about Tom's upcoming party. My vision starts to become
gray before I realize that I'm choking, so engrossed with my thoughts
was
I.
It isn't until I begin to thrash around and fall out of my chair
that Beth looks up from her food and realizes that something is
terribly wrong. She runs around the table screaming my name, and lifts
me up in her arms. My head lolls backwards from utter exhaustion.
I smile as I close my eyes, pity Beth will never know how happy I am
to die in her arms.
ByOrg






TheMosaic
4-9
The
Fnd
By Scott Neville





GET A JUMP ON NEXT SEMESTER'S MOSAIC!
If you have any poetry, prose, photography, or other
artistic expression that you would like to submit for pos-
sible publication into the Fall 1999 Mosaic, please drop
a copy of the work in the Literary
Arts
mailbox in the
Council of Clubs room, located in Student Center 369,
or get in contact with Scott Neville, Donna Jackson, or
Heather Clarke for more information. All work will be
returned in its original condition. Watch for deadlines
posted around campus during the semester.
OPEN TO ALL STUDENTS, STAFF, FACULTY,
AND ALUMNI SUBMISSIONS!









~~a
ITALIAN
C6 AMERICAN
BISTRO
Tel. (914) 229-9113
Route 9
229-9114
Hyde
Park, NY 12538
www.enjoyhv.com\coppola




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