FUSION Magazine

The First Thanksgiving

by Luis Lascano

  

Leaves by Elizabeth Jordyn Blakely

 

The doorbell woke me up from a nightmare. Still asleep and confused, I almost stumbled while I was walking toward the door. The only thing I could see through the peephole was the enlarged version of one of my roommates, Vanessa. I remember it was only five days before Thanksgiving and it was really cold outside. But her face and her Home Depot uniform were totally covered in sweat. I opened the door, and I noticed she had at least six grocery bags in each hand– “Help me, Luisillo, this is heavy.”  While I was helping her, I got suspicious about the plan behind that brutal grocery shopping:  maybe Vanesa wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving  ”The American Way”.

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One Winter Morning

by Kikuta Norihiro

Cold Bright day. White Breath. Beautiful low peach winter sun. Birds are singing in the middle of pale tree. Storm brought snowman to a new jacket last night. He is smiling with carrot mouth. Picked up the newspaper. Under the sunbeams, colorful advertisement becomes stained glass. Looked up the garden. Small playground is covering by decade of time and scent of snow. Read more »

Fooled by the Fifty-Seven

by Aidan Sherry

The fifty-seven bus has a strained relationship with its riders.  It is a bus with unrivaled convenience and comfort.  It takes its loyal followers sometimes within feet of their final destination.  While it is a good friend to many, it is also an unreliable friend, a friend that should not be depended on in desperate situations.  Many have fallen victim to its sporadic schedule.  Classes have been missed, deadlines passed, and relationships ruined because of an incredibly late fifty-seven bus. Read more »

In the Music

by Suzanne Hanser

As a child, I thrived on my family’s songs and piano music.  But I did not know then all that music could do for me.  Through it, I played out my desires, pain and turmoil.  Through it, I invented melodies to validate my dreams of a healthy future.  After abdominal surgery, my dissonant piano compositions screamed so I didn’t have to.  After the deaths of my parents, the dirges I wrote spoke a grief as no words could.  And after I birthed a stillborn baby, only music could comfort me. Read more »

Middleman

by John Lippincott

Have you ever been cut off by a careless biker while you were strolling peacefully down the sidewalk?  That biker is usually me late for class. However, yesterday morning I was a careful and calm biker who slowly pedaled his way towards you coming from the opposite direction. I observed every detail of your stature when we crossed paths. As if I were a scientist looking through a microscope, jotting down experimental data. Creepy? Yes, absolutely. Read more »