szachik@pvs.org, Author at the bird on fire

Capital Punishment in the United States

January 17, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

By Luke Langlois

For decades, capital punishment has been fiercely debated in the United States. Should it exist? What methods should be used? Is it even Constitutional? Today, I will not be answering those questions. Instead, I will be putting forward some facts about capital punishment, and the state of it today in the United States. For those who do not know, “capital punishment” is another way of saying “the death penalty.”

Capital punishment was kind of “revamped” in the 1960’s and 1970’s. From 1967 to 1977, there was no capital punishment in the United States. The Supreme Court had overturned capital punishment statutes in the case of Furman v. Georgia citing “cruel and unusual punishment.” All death sentences were reduced to life in prison. So, most states passed new laws regarding capital punishment so as to continue the practice without violating the Court’s ruling. In 1976, the Supreme Court approved the legality of the revamped capital punishment laws in Gregg v. Georgia. The states resumed their capital punishment ways. Utah was the first state to continue the trend. Utah executed someone via firing squad in 1977. The 10 year period without executions had taken its toll on the nation’s views–more people turned anti-capital punishment. A good amount of the states were working either to abolish capital punishment or slow down execution rates. By 1976, many states had already abolished capital punishment, and states are still working to abolish it to this day. Currently, there are thirty states where capital punishment is legal. There are many more states that are in a bit of a “legal limbo” with capital punishment, like California. California is on an execution hiatus and has not executed anyone since 2006. But, it is still “legal,” and California has the largest number of death row inmates, with about 740. The most recent state to completely abolish capital punishment was Washington, in October of 2018.

What does “capital punishment” entail nowadays? Since 1976, most criminals sentenced to death have been executed with a lethal drug injection. Since 1976, there have been 1,477 executions. There have been 1,302 lethal injections, 158 electrocutions, 11 gas inhalations, 3 hangings, and 3 firing squad executions. These methods may seem archaic to you, but they are still legal in many states. Electrocution is legal in Alabama, Florida, Kentucky, South Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Virginia. Tennessee actively uses this method, with it last being used on December 6th of 2018. Lethal gas is still legal in Arizona, California, Missouri, Oklahoma, and Wyoming. This is not an actively used method, rather it is an alternative. It was last used in Arizona in 1999. Execution via firing squad is still legal in Utah and Oklahoma. Again, it is an alternative, and was last used in Utah in 2010. In this case, the offender chose the firing squad. Hanging, the final legal execution method, is only legal in New Hampshire, but it was last used in Delaware in 1996. There are no other execution methods that are currently legal in the United States.

There are many small intricacies about capital punishment within the states. There are still many heavy decisions to be made about capital punishment. Who knows what the future holds?

Sources can be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capital_punishment_in_the_United_States

I know there is a stigma about Wikipedia, so I made sure to double check all of the information I pulled. It provides a great summary of everything.

Editor: AJ Patencio

Heroic Theory

January 17, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

By James Zheng, First-time Poet Musing on Heroism

Those brilliant epics we read depict

A thousand invincible images

Of our hero’s loneliness and supremacy,

Making this so-called hero receive homage.

With his solitary expression

And his firm, mighty, absolute strength,

No one sees his depression beneath the surface.

This reality, the idealistic standard of how our heroes should act,

will never change.

We call them heroes because of their immense capabilities, but in calling them

Heroes, we forget to call them humans as well.

If a hero is hesitant, if he is fettered and burdened with useless thoughts of

Family, friends, love; these are weaknesses;

they are the things he must guard in his heart.

What must be guarded is weakness.

In order to be king, he must freeze his heart and soul;

he must become cold.

“I hold my sword, but I can’t embrace you.

When I drop my sword, I can’t protect you.”*

Editor: Leo Milmet
*from the anime Bleach

The Avengers–High School Conspiracy

January 16, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

By Charles Schnell, Who Does Not Actively Follow or Care About the Marvel Movies

Before you scroll down or click away, hear me out. I know this may sound ridiculous, but I think the masterminds over at Marvel entertainment have outlined the four Avengers movies in a way that represents each grade in high school. At least, this is what my experience has led me to theorize.

Let’s go over the series and compare, shall we?

Avengers: Ah, the original. This is freshman year of high school. Think about it. There’s a new team of sheriffs in town. Some are smarter; some are stronger; some are more attractive. These freshies are here to team up for the first time and save the world. Now, take the average freshman class. Some are smarter; some are stronger; some are more attractive. However, they have all assembled at school for the first time to save each other, and the school as a whole, from bullies. Who are these bullies? Well, that would be the upperclassmen, society, the government, etc. Coincidence? I think not. Avengers is freshman year!

Avengers: Age of Ultron: This is sophomore year, most definitely. No doubt about it. In this one, the overall plot line is not tied up. Thanos is out and about, but not the main focus. This is more of a subplot movie if anything. Now, think about sophomore year of high school. Why does one go to high school? Well, at least if we are talking college-prep schools such as Palm Valley, one goes to get into college. That is the overall, main plot: getting into college. However, sophomores usually are not thinking too heavily about college. And, if they are, imagine how much worrying they’ll be doing junior and senior years, when college—Thanos—has finally arrived. In junior and senior year, all our GPAs start plummeting, and it’s one hard battle after another, and college is sitting right in front of you, taunting, laughing, smiling into the sunset. In sophomore year, that’s not the case. You aren’t focused on getting into college, the main plot. You usually have something else to worry about, the subplot. You’ve got your first (and perhaps your last) AP, your last year where the PSAT does not matter, and your 16th birthday—a classic American milestone. Sophomore year is the Age of Ultron.

Avengers: Infinity War: Time to put on your big kid pants. “Thanos” has arrived, and he is taking no prisoners. All who oppose him will be crushed, and in this “movie,” no “Avenger” is safe. Now, look again at those sentences, but replace “Thanos” with “college,” “movie” with “year,” and “Avenger” with “junior,” and you have a perfect summary of junior year. In years prior, the academic workload usually starts off slow. Everything is okay in the beginning of freshman and sophomore years, and then it all goes down the drain usually once December hits. But, those challenges have been manageable, and you have not let them conquer you. Junior year is much different. Thanos is unlike any other enemy. The junior grind does not allow for any meager distractions. Once junior year starts, it’s “GO GO GO” from the very first day. No time for breaks, no time for opposition. “GO GO GO.” APs! SATs! ACTs! PSATs! Look at colleges! HARVARD! This pain train’s got no breaks; it just hopes its passengers can hold on. Junior year is a war that seems endless, but it eventually ends…. Unfortunately, it might end in a way that you may not want it to. Junior year is the Infinity War.

Avengers: Endgame: “We’re in the endgame now.” I’m not a senior, but if I had to guess, every senior has probably said something akin to this during senior year. It’s the end. Half or so of the senior class was mentally destroyed during junior year. It’s up to the remaining seniors to help motivate their friends back to life, save their GPAs, and finally finish the main plot, the story that has been developing for 18 years; it’s time for the seniors to get into college and enter the next phase of their life. Need I say more? Senior year, the final year of high school, childhood, and—dare I say—innocence, is the Endgame. And yet, at the same time, it is much more than an end. It’s a beginning, a beginning to the next phase of your life.

There you have it. High school is the Avengers. The Avengers is high school. This is my argument, and I have laid it out plainly for you. Now, all that’s left is your opinion. Do you agree with, disagree with, or—best of all—ignore my post, and move on to more important matters?

Editor: Luke Langlois

3rd Place Short Story Winner

January 16, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Harlow Berny

Hello! Here, finally, is the 3rd-place winner of the Halloween Short Horror Story Competition written by Erik Bearman! It was a tough choice, but ultimately the Masked Rabbit and his story “The Darkness” won 1st place, and Marianne Capetz came in 2nd place with her story “The Child.” Enjoy!

Cobwebs

By Erik Bearman

My grandmother always gave me one rule, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” If she asked me to clean out garage, she’d say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” If she asked me to fetch something from the attic, she’d say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” Even if I was washing the dishes after dinner, she’d always say, “Don’t touch the cobwebs!” even though there was no chance of cobwebs being in the dishwasher, she’d still warn me. I never questioned my grandmother’s preoccupation with cobwebs because she was always there for me. Ever since my parents died, she was always there for me. When I was being bullied in middle school, she was there to scream at the principal until they were expelled. When I struggled in math class, she was there to make sure the teacher tutored me after school. I figured that since she was always there for me, being paranoid of a couple house spiders wasn’t a big deal.

Two months after my 15th birthday, my grandmother died in her sleep on the 31st of October. Once I had finished grieving (or at least summoned the ability to be able to walk through the front door without bursting into tears), I went to clean out her house. It was Christmas, and the snowfall was heavy. My girlfriend, Juniper, was kind enough to help me clean out my grandmother’s house. Funny thing is I never asked her to help; she just showed up and started helping. Without my grandmother to keep them at bay with her “holy duster” (a feather duster with a handle specially carved in the shape of a religious cross, as she called it), the cobwebs had spread all across the house. We started cleaning in the dining room. As I was stacking the chairs against the wall, Juniper walked straight into a cobweb! I laughed as she picked spider silk out of her mouth. It was the first time I felt joy in a while; and I figured that since my grandmother was gone, touching the cobwebs wouldn’t be a big deal. I was wrong.

That night me and Juniper were sitting on the sofa watching some of my grandmother’s old movies. Juniper sat on my lap as I braided her hair. Halfway through Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Juniper and I fell asleep on the couch. The last thing I remember hearing before I closed my eyes was the basement door creak open. I woke to the sound of Juniper whimpering as she held me tight. “Damien,” she said, “Damien, please wake up!”

“What? What is it?”
“Look at the floor!”

When I did look at the floor my skeleton nearly leapt out of my body. The floor was thickly covered in giant cobwebs as far as we could see.

“Wha-What happened?”
“I-I don’t know! I woke up and the floor was covered in the stuff!”
“Okay, let’s just remain calm and–”

I was interrupted by a loud squeaking noise. We looked at the top of the cable box and saw a raccoon had managed to break through one of the windows while we were sleeping. It sniffed around the room searching for a meal. It turned its head towards the hallway which led straight to the kitchen. As it descended the box, its large, bushy, tail got caught in the webbing. As soon as it tried to tug itself free, we heard the basement door slam open! And a large, black blur shot across the floor before puncturing the raccoon’s flesh with its sharp fangs. Strangely, there was no blood, there was no gore of any kind. The raccoon didn’t squeal or even flinch. It just went limp, with a minor twitch here and there. Paralysis, I thought. Whatever had paralyzed the rodent turned and dashed out of the room back into the basement, but not before I got a good look at it.

The moonlight that shone through the broken window had revealed a giant, black, spider the size of a Saint Bernard. Its spiny legs were as thin and sharp as a sewing needle, glistening fangs the size of butcher knives, and eight red eyes the size of baseballs. But the eyes were the strangest part; they were deformed and detached from the spider’s head. They dangled and swung like loose buttons on an old doll’s head.

Out of fear, Juniper squeezed my arm tightly and whispered, “Damien, please tell me this is a nightmare! Please tell me this is just a figment of my imagination!”
“I wish I could; I really wish I could!”
“What is that thing!”
“It looked like a black widow spider! But they don’t usually get larger than 1.5 inches.”
“How-how do you kill one?”
“Normal ones? Step on them. This one? Use a machine gun!”
“Damien, we have to get out of this house! Let’s just drive as far away from here as we can!”
“How do we get out? The broken window is too small, and if we touch these webs … well you saw what happened to that raccoon!”

I looked for a way out of the room, but it looked like the spider had us in the perfect trap. The only objects not covered in webbing were the couch, T.V., and the various boxes we had stacked across the house.

The boxes!

I turned to Juniper, “I have an idea! You know the game, ‘The Floor is Lava’?” Juniper replied, “Yeah, what about it?”

—

Slowly we hopped from pieces of furniture to stacked boxes to-and-fro as we tried to exit the house. We could hear the scattering of giant spiders coming from the basement. “Keep calm, Juniper. We’re almost to the door.” Since black widows prefer warmer temperatures, we thought the odds were good that we’d make it to the car. I hopped onto the table by the door. I slowly turned the knob–

“Damien.”
“Yes, Juniper?”

When I turned around my heart nearly dropped! Juniper had slipped and her foot had gotten caught in the webs. I could hear one of the spiders getting closer. A dark blur turned the corner of the entryway and charged at Juniper. Within a split second the beast was on top of her, her body going limp with paralysis. The worst part was her eyes; her eyes stared blankly at me. She was trapped in her own body, and there was nothing either of us could do. The creature, almost as if it was taunting me, slowly dragged her body back to the basement. And while it could’ve just been my head playing tricks on me, I could swear its dangling eyes were staring right at me. I cried into the darkness. The only person left in my life who I loved had just been taken. First my parents, then my grandmother, and now Juniper; one by one they’d all been ripped out of my life. I gathered myself and slowly made my way to the kitchen. I wasn’t just going to let her die down there, not without a fight. If there was even a slight chance Juniper was still alive, I was going to save her. I grabbed a knife and headed towards the basement. I figured that anything stabbed in the face would likely die. I could hear the creatures skittering across the floor, their faint outlines barely visible in the darkness. I held my breath, determined to kill them all, if not to save Juniper, then at least to avenge her death. I bent down and touched the webbing on the floor and in an instant a spider lunged out of the basement and threw me down the stairs. Even in my daze I could hear the spiders swarm around me. They bared their fangs and–

—

“And what Dad? How did you save Mom? How’d you kill the spiders?” Damien’s son Devon asked. Damien sat in his chair trying to remember how he saved his wife–except he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember a thing. The last thing he remembered was being thrown down those steps as the spiders closed in on him. Had his memory blacked out the events? He had to find out. “Hold on.” He told his son as he headed towards the kitchen. His wife, Juniper, was making her famous Shepherd’s Pie. Damien approached her, “What were you and Devon talking about?” asked Juniper. “I was just telling him about the time I rescued you from my grandmother’s house all those Christmases ago.” Juniper replied, “Oh, my little knight in shining armor. You dashed right into that room and killed them all! I knew in that moment that you were the man I wanted to marry,” she said as she hugged him.

“It’s really weird, honey, but I can’t remember a thing!”
“Oh always such the jokester, Damien. C’mon, you remember!”
“Honey, I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I don’t remember anything after the spider threw me into the basement!”
“Oh sure you do, it’s in your brain somewhere. We simply need to pry it out!”

The scent of rot and decay hit Damien’s nose like a train. He looked over at Juniper’s pie, and it had been replaced by a mass of a grey, mucus-like substance. Protruding from this substance was a raccoon’s tail, a broken feather duster, and a large lock of Juniper’s hair. “Juniper, what’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything? Marrying you? Having a son? Any of it?” Damien asked frantically. The last thing Damien saw was Juniper’s sinister smile.

—

Damien awoke wrapped in a cocoon of spider silk, only his head was exposed. He could feel where the spider had bit him. While the wound had miraculously cauterized, the spider’s hallucinogenic venom was just starting to wear off. He turned his head as far as he could to the left where he saw one of the spiders crawl on top of a screaming Juniper. It almost seemed to be laughing as it prepared to feast. He felt another spider slowly crawl up his body. As their eyes locked and it opened its gaping maw, Damien heard one last thing. “Don’t touch the cobwebs!”

—

As the spiders feasted on their latest victims in the basement, one of the creatures had managed to squeeze through the raccoon-sized hole in the window. As it landed on the ground, the snow evaporated into thin air. The arachnid dashed off into the night as its kin followed suit. It was going to be a red Christmas this year!

For Fun: Discover the mystery behind these creatures. Translate the binary, and the answer will be revealed.

https://www.rapidtables.com/convert/number/ascii-to-binary.html

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Editor: Leo Milmet

The Weak

January 14, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Translator and Blogger James Zheng

So, I was browsing on a Chinese video sharing website called Bilibili (which is similar to Youtube), and then I found this amazing poem among the comments while I was watching a well-made AMV (anime music video). Shockingly, this poem was written by a normal anime reviewer. The translation is by me.

By Scattered Sakura (Screen name)

Rain brings the flavor of the sky;

the ocean carries the atmosphere of the abyss;

cicadas of late summer deliver their taunts to human beings;

the intolerable pain of the spine oppresses the fragile nerves.

Those cowards who had never been to the battlefield roared presumptuously.

They were wishing to tear apart the prey,

while they remained endlessly hateful about the cloudy sky,

and the deadly calm of the Jordanian river in the deep winter.

Twisted with hundreds of emotions and sentiments, the battlefield led to the Crows’ bloodthirst.

The stinky wind came from the sea;

the heavy rain brought extremely frozen water,

And the furiously raging flame was extinguished.

No redemption, no destruction, only obedience can lead to survival.

Sweat flowed down the girl’s smooth body,

withered leaves sprinkled with blood and tears.

The swan cut across the sky,

full of loneliness and desolation–caged birds pray for a storm full of life.

However, in front of the higher herdsmen,

we can only be captive lambs, fearing death, while hoping that the glory of victory spreads over the earth before dawn.

Before I shoot off to tell you how extraordinary this poem is, I must tell you that there is a slight difference between Chinese and American figurative and literal meanings, as well as writing styles. Because of the translation, there might be some places in the poem that may slightly confuse you.

What is really fascinating about this entire poem is the way it depicts a vivid image to interpret the significant term, “the weak.” The word choice actually conveys to me an oppressive atmosphere where one force overcomes another.

Editor: Luke Langlois

Wanna make an elegant GIF or Video?

January 14, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Videographer Blogger and Influencer Jeremy Cheng

This is a subtle video. Focus on the leaf. Instead of a leaf falling, it’s rising. Below, Jeremy will explain how you can achieve this effect.

First, download two apps, PicsArt and Plotaverse.

Take any picture that you want to edit.

Open Picsart, press “+” button, and choose the picture that you want to edit.

Press “Tools” and “Dispersion.”

Cover the shape that you want to disperse.

After covering the shape that you want to disperse, click the “Arrow” button on the right top side.

On the bottom of the page, there are five choices: “Stretch,” “Size,” “Direction,” “Fade,” and “Blend.”

Use them to adjust your image to a perfect shape.

After finishing this step, press “Apply” and “Next” on the right top side.

Save your picture on your device.

Open Plotaverse; press “+” and “CREATE PHOTOGRAPH” button.

Click “+” button.

Choose the picture that you just edited on the PicsArt and press “Animate.”

You can enlarge your picture and set the arrows as many times as you need on your picture. The arrows will continue in the same direction.

Then, press “Anchor” to block the area where you want it to spread.

Finally, press the “Play” button so that you can see how the image spreads. Then, press the “Share” button on the top right side and save it to your devices.

Now you have a video as elegant as mine. Go forth and edit.

Editor: Holden Hartle

Instagram Poetry

January 11, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

A submission by Poet-Blogger Jeremy Cheng

Jeremy submitted the following poem to “Rattle’s” Instagram-Poet Competition.

Want to submit an Instagram Poem as well? Here are the specs:

Publication: Rattle magazine
Publication type: online, print
Editor: Timothy Green
Word count: Send up to four poems; no line limit provided
Payment: $100/poem
Rights the publisher asks for: First publication rights plus exclusive rights for one year after publication. Author retains copyright.
Deadline: January 15, 2019
Publication date: Summer 2019
Response time: Not specified.
Format: Not specified. Standard manuscript format is a good bet.
Will they take simultaneous submissions? Not specified.
Will they take multiple submissions? Yes, but include all in a single document. Read more about multiple and simultaneous submissions.
Will they take reprints? “…we won’t consider poems that have been published in books, magazines, or newspapers, in print or online. We will, however, consider poems that have only been self-published to blogs, message boards, or social media accounts.”.
Who to contact with questions: www.rattle.com/info/contact/

Should Sports Players be Paid Less?

January 10, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

By Sports Enthusiast and Blogger Holden Hartle

In short, no. People like to say, “How can athletes get paid millions of dollars just to play a game? It’s unfair to the rest of the working class who actually has to work for their next paycheck.” I understand this hypothetical person’s argument. In its simplest, these athletes are getting paid ridiculous amounts of money to play a child’s game. But, I do have some problems with this hypothetical person’s argument.

Consider this. The NBA earns a total of $7.37 billion per year. How the NBA determines the salary cap (it’s actually very complicated so this is the “For Dummies” version) is they take the total NBA revenue, halve it, then divide it by thirty because there are thirty teams in the NBA. After the other math that goes into it, you get just over $100 million per team. The salary cap is how much money a team is allowed to spend on players’ contracts. So, as the NBA earns more revenue, the teams can spend more money on contracts. But imagine if teams were given less of a percentage of the NBA’s revenue. That means that players would get paid less but that money has to go somewhere. Instead, it would go to people like Adam Silver, who is currently commissioner of the NBA. It seems fairer that the players are getting 50% of the NBA’s revenue, rather than Adam Silver have all of it to himself.

Furthermore, consider the fact that each NBA player has some amount of influence. Sure someone like Antonio Blakeney will have less influence than LeBron James, but there are still people that will look to Blakeney as a role model. And though maybe this influence isn’t worth millions of dollars, it is at least worth something.

Personally, I don’t think that NBA players should be paid less. I think that they are paid a fair percentage of the NBA’s revenue and that it would be unfair if they were paid a lesser percentage. Though, yes, in its simplest, they are playing a child’s game, but consider the fact that they are playing it at the highest level in the entire world, and the fact that each NBA player has some influence over some group of people.

This has been Part 2 of Holden Rants About a Topic That Isn’t Really Relevant But is Still Kind of Interesting.

Editor: A.J. Patencio

2nd-Place Short-Story Winner

January 9, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

By Harlow Berny

Hello! Here is the 2nd-place winner of the Halloween Short Horror Story Competition written by Marianne Capetz! It was a tough choice, but ultimately the Masked Rabbit and his story “The Darkness” won 1st place, and Erik Bearman came in 3rd place with his story “Cobwebs.” Enjoy!

The Child

By Marianne Capetz

Miss Alice Wittlebee was a very normal woman; in fact, she was possibly the most normal person in her apartment complex. Everyday she got up at 5:30 on the dot and had a cup of tea with one sugar. She would then sit by her window and read until it was too dark to see the pages. Everyday without fail she followed her routine, until one afternoon she heard a sharp knock on the door. Miss Alice slowly got up and walked to the door. When she opened it, a small face was peering up at her
“I don’t want to buy anything,” Miss Alice snapped at the wide eyed child. The child continued to silently stare at her. Something about this child perturbed her; perhaps it was the odd way the child’s eyes seemed to dilate. Miss Alice quickly dismissed this absurd idea. This child was nothing but a small disruption in her day. She turned to ask the child if it was lost, but before she could say anything the child began to speak.
“Hello Alice. Did you miss me?” the child’s head tilted slightly and its eyes seemed to widen.

Rather taken back by the child’s words Miss Alice responded, “Miss you? Child, I’ve never seen you in my life.” She watched the child’s mesmerizing eyes continue to expand.
“Did you miss me?” The child asked again. Miss Alice rubbed her eyes as the child’s eyes had grown even more.
“Please leave, I have much to do today and cannot be bothered.” Miss Alice said with a slight waver in her voice. She went to leave, but stopped. Her feet suddenly felt very heavy and sat like cinder blocks on the ground. She turned once more to glance at the strange child. She quickly found that she could not move her eyes away from the child. Miss Alice was trapped by the unwavering gaze of the peculiar child.
Miss Alice had never had such a bizarre experience. Nor did she expect to be caught by the stare of this child. As the child’s eyes grew, the room began to change. The walls became white and plush and the floor began to soften. Her arms were encased by something warm and secure. Miss Alice slowly sank to the cushioned floor. She looked around the room and saw that the child had disappeared. She tried to free her ams from the strange item pinning them to her body, but found she was stuck. Her escape efforts began to become more and more frantic. She was so focused on her attempt to free her arms that she didn’t notice the woman enter the room. She didn’t even feel the needle prick her skin, until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
The nurse carefully removed the needle from Patient #48 and set it on the metal tray that she had rolled in earlier. She picked up the large folder sitting on the table and quickly jotted down some notes. She looked at Alice and sighed; Patient #48 seemed to be getting better. She was so close to being released back into society. The nurse shook her head and walked out. All the patients on her floor had been complaining about an encounter with a strange child before they would relapse into insanity again. She told the other nurses about these complaints, but no one had believed her. Lost in thought she turned down the hall and was shocked to see a small child standing by the door.
“Hello Jane. Did you miss me?”

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Lord’s Animals and The Devil’s–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

January 9, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

Retold By Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, God created all animals and chose the wolf to be his dog. God had forgotten, however, to create the goat. The devil saw this and began to create his own animals, among which was the goat that God had forgotten. He gave the goats long, bushy tails, but when they grazed in the pastures they caught in hedges. The devil grew tired of untangling his goats, so he herded them together and bit their tails down, leaving them with the stubs we see today.

After He knew they wouldn’t get caught again, He let his goats roam the fields alone, but soon God saw how they gnawed at fruit trees, chomped through hardy vines, and devoured blooming wildflowers. God became distressed and sent his wolves to stop the goats, and in doing so the goats were torn to pieces. The devil heard the cries of his goats and returned to find nothing but blood-stained grass and wolves. He went to God and screamed, “Why have your creatures destroyed mine!?”

“Why have you created things that do harm?” God responded.

“Damn you! My creations ate nothing but plants; yours are the ones that commit murder!”

“The goats had eaten trees, vines, and flowers instead of fruits and vegetables. They were hardly innocent creatures.”

“My thoughts and being run on chaos and disorder, and as such my creations can have no other nature. You owe me heavily for the herd you’ve killed,” said the devil.

“I will pay you as soon as the oak leaves fall. Come then and your money will be ready.”

The devil waited for Autumn, and once he heard the final leaf drop to the ground and crunch beneath a human’s foot, he went forth to God and demanded his due. However, once he arrived he was shocked by what he saw.

“As you can see, not all the oak leaves have fallen, devil,” God said gesturing to the old church behind the woods, which was surrounded by tall hollyoaks.

“Evergreens?!” the devil shouted. “You’ve tricked me, old man!”

“Not quite. I said when all the oak leaves fall, not when Autumn comes. You will have to wait until those trees decide that they’ve lived long enough, and are ready to rest.”

“Damn you! Damn you and all your creations!” The devil huffed out flames before leaving again with his goats. He pulled their eyes out and replaced them with his own, so that he may watch over them and alert them of danger. This is how goats got their short tails and devil eyes, and why the devil likes to assume their shape when walking upon the earth.

Editor: Makena Behnke

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s