Archana Raguparan Blue
Casey Dudding The sky outside his barred window was blue. Blue. The colour of his dad’s eyes. Blue. The colour of shoes he was wearing when he entered the ghastly place. Blue. The colour of his mom’s shirt the last time he saw her. He wished it was grey. Clouds and rain would have suited his mood so much more than this pearly blue that brought with it so many memories of his life before. Before the incident. That night would haunt him forever. That night was the night his life changed forever. He hadn't meant to get so mad, he hadn't meant to pull the trigger. But it didn't matter what he had meant to do or not. He had done it and that was all that counted. Blue. The sky had been blue that day too. Haiku for Vermeer’s Woman in Blue
Lucy Boyd Cool light quiets the room, She unfolds the paper, lifts its words to the window. 
Blue
Emma Rankin Regal Ocean free Stunning, Neverending Sky Free as a Bird Blue True Story
Mab Speelman I once knew a kid named Ollie. We met at an after-school program, For kids whose parents had to work long hours For short money. I beat him at foosball everyday The first time it was 6-4, me. He said I’m going easy on you, you’re a girl. I said I’m going easy on you, you’re a boy. I saw him on Hallowe’en once, He was a stormtrooper with a white mask. I was a fairy princess with a blue tutu. We didn’t say anything to each other. On the last day before Christmas break He won against me. 4-6, him. I said I’m going easy on you, you’re a boy. I think he looked a little sad that day. I didn’t see him anymore. I heard he drowned in the river down the hill While walking on pale blue Ice. 
Sara Ersil
Blue Heart
Sage Spicer I am blue. I’m not a liar. Touch my skin and you’ll find that it’s ice cold. I see my own breath dance in the air whenever I breathe, no matter how hot the sun is. I live in my own wintry wonderland, where everything is white and blue and sparkles in the early morning light. I’m not lonely here. You shouldn’t be here; I swear I don’t need you here. You are red; you match the colour of your beating heart and the flowers you hold so tightly. Look, you’re melting the ground beneath us. Go away. I said I’m not lonely. I see you reaching for my hand. You are red, and this is not a place for you. You’ll melt whatever you touch. You’re an intruder. Don’t give me that look, you heard what I said. This is not a place for you. You’ll melt me. Go away, I told you. What’s that you said? No, I promise I don’t hate you. You don’t belong here, but I like you. I like the colour red too. It reminds me of flowers and bright lipstick. Do you live in a place that is all red? Maybe we’ll go there next. Wait, do you think there’s a place somewhere that’s all purple? Like candles, grapes, and fancy dresses? Well, yes, you’re right. It’s also like blue and red together. That’s like you and I as well. Maybe we’ll stay there for a while. Brown Eyes and Why That’s All That Matters
Neve Stewart There are six dresses in the back of my closet. Three pink, two purple, and one blue. I don’t wear dresses much, but my grandma insists on giving me one every year for Christmas. She does this because she has Alzheimer's and thinks I’m my sister. Susie loved wearing dresses. She refused to wear anything but dresses. Even in the cold winter months when her legs would turn blue on the walk to school, she still wore them. Grandma doesn’t buy me presents. I guess she doesn’t remember me at all, but Mom tells me just to play along and take the dresses, pretend I’m Susie. So every Christmas I get a dress and hide it in the back of my closet. Mom never asks me about them, and Dad doesn’t come to Grandma’s anymore. Every once in a while I’ll take the dresses out, lay them on my bed and stare at them. Sometimes I try them on, just to see if they still fit. Today I try the blue dress on. It lies gently against my skin, it fits snugly around my torso, and falls just above my knees. Standing in front of the mirror I examine my reflection: a skinny fifteen year old, with dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair, all of which contrast nicely with the sky blue of the dress. I’m growing my hair out so it almost touches my shoulders. I push it back behind my ears and paint my lips with mom’s crimson lipstick. I leave my sandals on. They will have to do--I’m not Cinderella. But tonight is the ball, or spring dance, and that’s pretty much the same thing. A wave of excitement and joy washes over me as I stand in my room. Staring at myself in the blue dress--I look beautiful. Then it hits me, just like it always does. That feeling. Guilt, shame, hate, sorrow. I take one last look at myself and start to wipe off the makeup, unbutton the dress. This is wrong, I think to myself. And it’s true. It’s wrong to be wearing my dead sister’s dress like it’s my own. “James!” My mom screams from downstairs. “Time to go! Violet's here!” Violet is my date to the dance. This night is going to be hell. “One minute, I need to get changed!” I shout back as I pull off the dress and put on a tie. River Water
Ava B They say river water is blue. It’s not. It isn’t even clear. It’s a murky brown colour, similar to root beer almost, but it doesn’t taste as good. You can’t see two feet in front of you when you’re in river water. It’s disgusting. I would never want to be a fish and have to live in this. It’s all brown, with gasoline and garbage. I don't know why we do this to ourselves. Human nature, I suppose. I’m mulling over this and I feel a plastic bag brush against my hand. That’s a prime example of human nature. It’s the reason this water isn’t blue. I think back to children’s books with illustrations of beautiful blue water. Maybe it was blue once, and now it isn’t, and it’s because of our wrongdoings, but we draw blue water for our children anyway. It’s like lying to them, saying that water is blue when it isn’t, asking them to discard the fact that we as a species screwed up and ruined it. We teach our children not to lie and not to cheat and we punish them when they do. What hypocrites we are. When I look down I see a black abyss. When I look to the sides it’s murky brown. I try looking up, and it’s still rather polluted and pop-coloured, but through that I can see the sun shining, and I feel a little bit of hope. It’s beautiful, the sun through the water. It’s also the last thing I see before I drown. 
Libby Graham And we glance away
Melanie Zhang I used to stare off into nothingness, lose my grip on reality and just float through the seconds, minutes, hours. I would look but not see, until one day my eyes turned negative because surely yours are positive and I found mine being attracted to yours. I stare at the expanse between your eyes and your soul, that in-between place where grayish blue translates into thousands of possibilities. In this place I brush my fingertips along the constellations of your mind, I swim with the gravitational curve of doubt holes. Be careful around these - it is altogether too easy to get sucked in yourself. I see asteroids collide with planets, and ambitions collide with reality. It’s almost beautiful, the way the shattered remains of it all drift off; sometimes to take new forms, but mostly not. I see it all, and sometimes I see you too, finding your way around this vast universe and for a second I get you, I really do. But then you plunge into my soul and I blink and you blink and we’re dragged out at a thousand miles a second and we glance away. Dream Thoughts
Olivia Kenny I reach my hands up as high as I can, but still my fingertips do not dip into the velvet sky. The mountains emerge like rows of teeth between my fingers. They line this valley, and at their peaks, give way to nothing but midnight. The stars, to me, resemble freckles; I like to think valleys like Swat are dimples on the Earth's smiling face, but that is just a dream thought. All my thoughts are dream thoughts. Father says that's a bad thing, but I disagree. I reach my hands up, and if I stand on my tiptoes, my fingertips kiss the sky. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known." |
Simulations
Anna Kolbuzewska The beat was consistent, considerable. The lights were flashing, the world revolving, a void swept under the current, so you couldn’t go home. It was living tissue in itself, and you could smell it. Thick, unlike gas, unlike steam, like salt. It was the lust, sex, and semen of the club life. Here oceans billowed in glasses with spindly spines, and heels got stuck up in the clouds, dangling composure from their sparkling teeth. Here the blinds were drawn up to scare away the daylight and everything continued without a pause. Blue still signalled boy. Signalled balloons, beauty. Ripped jeans exposing thin veins and broken backs. Compressions. Here the lights would flicker. The walls would crumble from the press of bodies and the radiated heat that propelled the night onward. And in the corner a man would sweat. He would stand up and take the two delicate steps to the left of the spectrum, and slowly place his feet at the edge of the ring of stimulant. And I would watch. Squeeze bitter skin against air, being careful not to follow in his footsteps. Towards limbo. Limbo. Because he would leave not a icy footprint, but a fiery one. Because with dilated pupils he would take in the mercurial light. Because it was I alone who witnessed the bartender and the waitress intoxicate time with a blue concoction of bubbles. I alone to witness breaths being captured and bottled and kept in neat, quaint stacks. There were no comments. In the club life. Clients would simply trim away at their anchors on the rooftops, and shoulder heavy drinks with pride. They would turn their vacant backs on the encircling glass—the bottled breaths, and the red that infiltrated the room. Haiblue
Mahaila Smith Yes, my hands are cold. I tuck my hands in my sleeves. Hands are now warmer. Different Kinds of Infinity
Amy Li “Ready, set, go!” We thrust ourselves and roll down the hill, gaining speed as it becomes steeper. I force my eyes open, and see the blue sky and green grass spinning wildly around me. I hear my big sister, Hannah, whooping with joy. Finally, we both slow to a halt, and I see Hannah nearby in my peripheral vision. After my breath has resumed its normal rate and the dots in my vision have faded, we both just lie there, staring up at the blue sky that stretches above us for what seems like infinity, and feeling the soft grass against our backs. All is silent save the sound of our breathing. 30 seconds, then a minute, passes. “See, that wasn’t so scary, right?” Hannah calls to me. My face breaks into a grin. “Let’s do it again!” I squeal with delight. Eight years later... We both sit silently on the living room couch, staring intently at our phones. My screen is covered with different shades of blue: Twitter, Facebook, Messenger, Tumblr. As I scroll through my feeds, it seems as if I could go on for infinity, because there are always more pages and people to follow, more posts and tweets to like or comment, more messages to send. The room is filled with the constant sound of fingers frantically tapping away on phones as they send texts, as well as the occasional ding of a notification. In my peripheral vision I see Hannah’s face break out into a grin. “What’s so great?” I ask her, my eyes never leaving the phone. “100 likes on my profile picture!” she replies. “Lol.” And then we resume our lives. Blueberry
Nina Babic Blueberries on Sunday morning Picked from the Earth And smashed by your crooked ivories. Cobalt on your church dress. Stained dark by wandering hands Fruit remnants decorate your hemline A shade to match your eyes Lips painted by nature Colouring synchronized with the sky Greedily devoured Twenty-two berries Recalled on Your church dress Stained painfully blue. Stars Down Here
Isabelle Flack The water was still as she drifted under its surface, her limited supply of air escaping to the surface as she was delicately dragged towards the depths. Drowning, she mused silently, I never thought I’d die drowning. Slowly, the sun’s glare on the water became diluted, a million gallons of merciless ocean water too concentrated to be caught by light. And the turquoise water faded to navy, and finally, a stunning midnight blue that captured the colour of a midnight sky. But there’s no stars down here. Bluesanity
Meg Collins In my dreams I see only blue. The sky is blue, my skin is blue, the atmosphere is blue and the feeling surrounding me is blue. Sometimes, I think blue thoughts. Not necessarily sad thoughts, but in between thoughts. Thoughts where I think I could be sad, but I’m peaceful about it. The thoughts remind me of a blue like a clear sky, or a calm sea. They’re my dream thoughts, the things I think bring about the blue while I’m dreaming. The things you’re afraid of thinking about during the day, so you bring about at night, when you’re alone and scared of the boogey man popping out from the closet. The blue things. The blue things eat at my brain sometimes. And sometimes I wonder am I going crazy? Persephone
Rebecca Bosloy You engulfed her in your darkness Fed her your blue blood Shaped her monster out of pomegranate seeds Turned her to rage and blackness and death Your own creature of destruction She will never forgive you But as her gold leash wares with millennia Your guard falls And she engulfs you in her darkness Greys and Blues
Maya Dagher Nothing I can say is news, In this, the blur of greys and blues. I've spoken out, it's yours to choose, In this, the blur of greys and blues. I've lost my script and missed my cues, In this, the blur of greys and blues. My cards are played, yours to refuse, In this, the blur of greys and blues. All mine I gave, I've none to lose In this, the blur of greys and blues. No backup plan nor clever ruse, In this, the blur of greys and blues. Someday we may be bound in twos, In this, the blur of greys and blues. But we're held back by bars of hues, By this prison of greys and blues. Ask Me Who I Love
Emilie Tunn Six months ago "Ask me who I love", I'd say brown eyes With rose dusted cheeks Six days ago "Ask me who I love", I thought of blue... I thought about you. 
Isabelle Flack
The Esteemed Ocean Deep Party
Lily Inskip-Shesnicky Like the bottom of the ocean, the pressure weighs down on my back and I can feel it in my lungs and in my ears; I can feel it in my brain. Like the dark down deep there are strange things lurking, flashing, dancing, and singing. A party for the bioluminescent aristocrats. Everyone has masks on, I can’t tell who’s who. Is that Lord Jellyfish or Count Octopus? With or without the masks my vision is blurred, salt water stings my eyes. It’s not the bright blue of the ocean surface, where pretty fish like, Nemo and Dory, dart in and out of vision. It’s the cold black sea. Where you can feel the tendrils of ink curling around your legs and through your fingers, but you can’t say for sure what’s happening because you couldn’t see anything even if it were right up in front of your face. There are bubbles of heat and pockets of anger, like an underwater volcano, I can feel it. Ready to rise from the surface, I could make mountains and landscapes out of this feeling. The cruel tides sweep in and out, pulling me this way and that, the feeling ebbs. Flitting in and out and around, it’s a rock bottom, murky ocean bed, sea creature party. Here comes the esteemed Crab family, their claws clacking like the mouths of everyone around me and their meter long bodies scuttling forward, annoying, obnoxious, and invading, like everyone around me. It’s a down, deep, cold to the bone party. 
Emilie Montreuil Strub
Colours
Ginger Hum Julia found the colour yellow on a Monday when she quit her job. She didn’t like the idea of trying to live without a solid income but she hated her job and her boss. She figured that it was time to move on with her life. She stared her boss in the eyes and gave him a nice and loud fuck you in front of all her co-workers. Then she threw all the things she still wanted from her desk into an old cardboard box and left using the stairs instead of the elevator. It was faster than waiting for the elevator to climb to the fifteenth floor. She dumped the box into her ex-boyfriend’s beat up truck and drove home in record speed. Julia found the colour red on a Tuesday when she finally kicked her ex-boyfriend out of her apartment. He had been freeloading ever since they broke up--two months ago. She resisted the urge to take him back in the front lobby until she was red in the face. He yelled until the owner of the building threatened to call security before leaving. He left with seven boxes filled with his belongings and took his beat up old truck with him. Julia found the colour green on a Wednesday when her sister offered to drive her down to their parent’s cottage for the weekend. They lounged on the dock and drank fancy wine until the sun went down. Her sister had the best pep-talks and by the time they had to go back to the city Julia was ready to take on anything. They loaded their suitcases stuffed with too many things for just a weekend into the trunk and drove away in her sister’s mud splattered Toyota. Julia found the colour purple on a Thursday at her job interview. She had applied for the job before her weekend at the cottage and they had called her five minutes after she had stepped into her apartment. She dressed in her favourite skirt and blouse combination and arrived twenty minutes early. She wanted this job more than anything else and this was her big chance. She sat straight backed and resisted the urge to fidget throughout the whole interview. After her allotted fifteen minutes the woman shook her hand and told her that she would get a call in three to four work days. Julia left with a folder of flyers and information from the front desk and she read them on the bus while going home. Julia found the colour blue on a Friday at her therapist’s office. She was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs when she got the call from her could be employers. Her therapist smiled and hugged her before saying goodbye to her for the last time. Julia left with a grin and a new job in her shiny new Mazda. |
This issue of Spotlight was brought to you by the BLUE Team.
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