This is a preview of "Fire, Fur, and Ash Spots," a story Joe F. is currently working on.
There was an issue in Africa. Deep in one of its jungles, near one of its god’s temples, a son of a mighty leopard god was slaughtered. His tongue removed so that his spirit could not drink; His claws ripped from his paws to harden his afterlife hunt; His teeth lay near his corpse but far from his mouth so that his pride was fractured; His guards and subjects heads were bashed in so that no one nearby could mourn. Having lost king and son in one night, a leopard god was furious. The fur attached to his skin was set ablaze as it sizzled in orange heat. His spots were as black as the bodies burned to honor the lives they once held. The leopard god was furious and he wanted the head of his son’s murderer. He did not care for the pacts and laws and agreements that barred gods from direct involvement with the world; he wished to leave his temple and wreak havoc in the jungle until justice rang through the trees and ground and sky. He would burn the trees and its resting birds and hungry frogs and smelly fungus if it meant justice would ring through the ground and sky. He would burn the ground and its crawling critters and vibrant plants and nutritious soil if it meant justice would ring through the sky. He would burn the sky and its floating clouds and bright moon and starry night if it meant justice would ring through him. The leopard god was furious and could not be allowed to leave his temple for all that would be left are embers and smoke in his wake. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So four mediums were sent to deal with the issue. A thoughtful Monk. An arrogant Allamah. A prideful Priest. And a brash Non-believer. The monk walked alongside the others with no shoes on his soles. He believed that he should take the world was is and learn from it all that he can. His body was shaven of all hair, his robes were as thin as air, and his hand stayed over his chest so that he could be thankful every second his heart pumped. The Allamah walked alongside the others, thinking them brainless barbarians. He thought that he’d been sent to fix another issue by himself and three paperweights. His scripture in hand he thought the Monk uncultured, the Priest stupid, and the Non-believer out of line. The Priest walked alongside the others with too much confidence. He had recently been given his position and thought himself on top of the world. He had a hard time discerning his thoughts and Jehovah’s whispers. He thought the others lucky that he was present. He was favored by his god and they should be favored too by proxy. Young and inexperienced, he walked as though this work familiar. The Non-believer walked alongside the others with scorn. She had no reason to trust gods and many to despise them. She found the others blinded by their faiths and texts and gods. She told herself that she alone would be the neutral party in this. With no gods or devils to answer to she knew what she wanted: to find the killer and bring them to justice with as little bloodshed as possible. She did not fear blood but she did not crave it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A quarter the size of a mountain, with the same amount of stone in its construct, the temple of the leopard god stood proud surrounded by miles and miles of forest, hidden deep in the jungle. The surrounding forest had latched onto the temple like a parasite. Centuries of time had lead to tree roots wrapping themselves loving around the infrastructure, greenery sprouting from the cracks and weeds being ever-present on its steps. Weighing heavy on the ground beneath it, the stone dome of a temple was supported by 10 large pillars and held 10 rooms in itself. Nine of the rooms were boring and plain; there were rooms to sleep, eat, play, do laundry, relieve oneself, and teach others. All these rooms only held the specific essentials needed for it. They all were lined in a circle connected by a large, circular, repeating hallway that held the last room in its center. The center room was lined in gold, its walls covered in tapestries, and its floor flooded in offerings. In the center of this room was a large plate-shaped thing that had a forever burning fire under it. In the center of the temple, in the center of 9 rooms, in the center of a circular hallway, in the center of a gold-lined room, in the center of a plate that never went cold, was a god of fire fur and ash spots. A leopard god rested on his plate, furious, flames crackled under his skin and deep black smog came from his ears. As large as a three-story house the leopard god’s face was scrunched in an unpleasant way and he bared his teeth at all who gazed upon him. He was very unhappy and the rare sight of 4 mortals that dared not worship him in his temple didn’t make him any happier. Speaking hotly because the only day he’d speak cold was when his corpse was laid on the forest floor the god repeated what the four already knew. “Eight miles east of me a son of mine was slaughtered in his home. Those who surrounded and praised him and protected him were killed alongside him. I want the one guilty brought before me. If he is not found within three days my search will start regardless of what you mortals say. If my search burns Africa to the ground you will find that I wouldn’t care.” Joe F. is a Junior at FHS and an active member of Epiphany. He is a self-described "lover of comics and competent writer." He enjoys creating comic books in his free time. Comics and candy are his forte.
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What does it mean to be an American?
What does it mean to be an American? If you asked anyone, they would all give you different answers. Some would talk about freedom, while others would talk about opportunities. But for me, I feel like being an American means to have rights, privileges, and freedom. No, America isn't a perfect country, but it is one of the only countries in the world that have rights given to people of different gender and diversities of our rich culture. There are many different races in this one country. If you travel anywhere in the world, you would mainly see just one race while here you would see a mis of different races and ethnicities. People in different countries don’t even have the rights to do much in their own country. Before, women weren’t even allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia until 2018, while here it was very common to see women behind the wheel. And even till this day, women in Saudi Arabia are required to wear an abaya but in America, women could be out in the street wearing anything they please. I remember when I was 12, my family and I went on our family summer vacation to Nigeria but had to pass through Dubai. I was wearing a mini skirt since I knew that when we landed in Nigeria it would be hot. I didn’t really think much about landing in Dubai and the restrictions. When we landed in Dubai and was getting off the plane, all of the airport working were giving me a funny look and my twelve year old self thought that they were looking at me because of my size which made me nervous because I hated my figure then. When we went to check our luggage in, so we wouldn't have to explore with 8 big travel bags, the lady behind the security desk pulled my mother and I to the side and told me to put something on. At first we didn’t really understand why she wanted me to change my outfit because in America no one said anything about my outfit expect people giving me compliments. My mother asked her to explain what she was talking about and was when she told us how it is not appropriate for a lady to wear anything as short or revealing as my shirt. I was surprised, which quickly turned into realization because I wasn’t in America anymore. It made me realize how America has more freedom, even with the most simplest thing like clothing. In the text, “What does it mean to ‘be American’”? It says, “Being American is red, white and blue and being free. It doesn't matter what language you speak…” From French to Yoruba to Turkish; there are thousands of different languages in America alone that people speak daily. These are the simple things in life that make me feel freer. That makes me feel like I have privileges. So, being an American means enjoying the right of freedom of speech, embracing the many diversities, the American way of life, different cultures and equal rights of determining the country's leadership. This makes me proud to call myself an American. Abiola is a Senior. She wrote this reflective piece for her Race, Gender, and Equity class at FHS. This Thing Called “Love”
Feelings, so raw and untouched... Butterflies in my stomach at the thought of you, My mind wanders whenever I’m with you; Endless smiles, the heat rising up my cheeks, blushing at the sound of your name. You found the love in me that I’ve lost. Lost the sight of love, Until we met In this thing called “Love”. -A.V A.V. is a former Poetry Today student of Ms. Barbour's and a member of Epiphany. Unobtainable During Quarantine
by Johany Solano I must take this time to say: That our friendship started as a flower that blooms; But now there's come a day Where change threatens to smother us like fumes So now that I have the room to write I realize now that what I once found ideal, it's run off by itself into the night And still, even in this moment, I can no longer deny how I feel This thing that grows stronger, little by little With every twist and turn it adapts and bends Accompanied by thoughts that warrant an acquittal For always fearing of a possible end Finally I can understand my heart and all it can say, is it pains to see us apart Johany is a Junior at FHS. She is an aspiring author currently working on short stories, poems, and a novel. Her love for works expands towards all types of literature, but especially classic novels. |
About Epiphany
Epiphany Literary Magazine is a safe space for students at Franklin High School to share their creativity. Archives '16-'20
June 2020
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