Paradise: an idyllic safe haven, a place free of life’s worries, a utopia away from stress. These days it seems like everyone could use a place like this. Paradise seems to be shown as a lavish, tropical beach, but it can be simpler then that. Paradise can be anywhere you feel happiness or delight. Whether that be a friend’s house, a family cottage, or even just your room. Where’s your paradise?

​

Heaven and Paradise 
By Kara Brulotte

​I do not believe in heaven, in the usual sense of the word. Getting all that we want allows greed and laziness take hold, allows everything to lose purpose, little by little, chips away at us, at our “humanness”. Would we be human anymore, or simply husks filled with desires and none of the concepts we run and depend on. Love, fulfilment, accomplishment, acts of selfishness? However, that is not the question. Heaven is not the question, it is not paradise and we should not pretend as if they are the same. Paradise is not quite what we have, in this moment, but there are parts here. In this paradise, I would have more dedication, more ease of being. I would be comfortable in the constant uncertainty that makes up your life and mine. I would not fear answers to questions I would never ask. It would be pointless to worry about what can never be know. Paradise is in us all, separate, and, in the nature of our being. Paradise is fulfillment and calm and loving without being scared. Paradise is being scared, but being vulnerable. Paradise is you existence being known, and finding peace with it anyways.

Heaven's Gates
By Heidi Elder

It was one day I was working, that I arrived at Heaven’s gates
Huffing puffing and out of breath as I was running late

I took the knocker in my hand
Knock
           Knock
                      Knock
Quickly taking two steps back as I heard them undo the locks

The angel opened the door, with a massive imposing size
It wasn’t long before I caught the attention of his equally impressive eyes

The very moment he saw me he turned a sour gaze
It took all I had in myself not to wither right away

He said to me “WELL” in the tired voice of misery
“Where the heck were you?! I ordered one-day delivery!”

Those words of his frightened me and shook me to my core
But I couldn’t just keep standing there or else what had I come for?

So I stood up tall and tried my best to wash away my fear
I tipped my hat politely and said, “I’m the delivery guy. I’m here.”

He looked somewhat angry or was perhaps just upset
But he looked at me and I looked at him, and then I began to sweat

Then he looked at my parcel with a glare that did imply
He did not in fact believe me and I swear I could have died

It only took that look of his to render me quite shy
But that one look is all it took to make my parcel cry

​Monophobia
by Hinata Derouin

hidden paradise
by Maya Mohammed
It’s lonely here sometimes. The city so so big, but so small in my familiar eyes. The polished stone walls
smooth underneath my touch but worn with age. This place is older than me but most days I feel like I’ve
surpassed its lifetime. The passage of time in here is hard to grasp anyway. I’ve walked through these
pristinely carved halls every single day, a coffin for the life I’ve never lived. It’s funny how every nook
and cranny should be ingrained in my brain by now, but somehow the repetition only makes me forget.
The artifacts of the past, a library of knowledge all at my fingertips but useless when there’s no one to tell
it to. People dream of knowing the secrets of the world, the past, the present and the future but what fun is
that if knowledge is your only friend. I live here alone in a paradise and have no one with which to share.
we live in a world of
cracked concrete
spilled dreams
forgotten stars
everything around us is gritty
real
too real
we spend more time yearning to live
than we spend actually living
lost time ebbs all around us
yet we remain unable 
or unwilling
to reach out and
grab it
but there are snatches of moments
shadows of instances
where we find ourselves at something beyond
the everyday gray
somewhere where silence and laughter
coexist in a delicate harmony
where we lose ourselves 
if only for a 
split second
where colours are brighter than ever before
and you wonder how you’ve 
never noticed
how beautiful the flowers smell

​

Untitled
by Meryn Vanderhorn

Undiscovered Paradise
​by Emma Ulvr
Looking back, things are not the same as I thought
Things are grittier
There was darkness in her eyes when she laughed
There were daggers in her mouth when she smiled
She would squeeze my arms just a little too tight
Each hug started to feel like she was trying to suffocate me
But she was my paradise
My escape
My everything
I didn’t notice then
I didn’t notice until it was too late
By the time I realised how poisonous she was
My paradise was soiled

​
We are always on the hunt
For somewhere new
Sending robots and rockets to wander 
Deep within the unknown
On a shred of hope that paradise
Is out there
Gleaming amongst the stars
Far from our moon’s loving gaze
Somewhere the sun's light could not dream of  dappling with warmth
We search and we search 
On a daydream that someplace better exists

Yet we may never know 
Our rockets only get so far
Our robots sing themselves to sleep
While the rest of the cosmos shimmers
A forbidden fruit just out of reach

And while we yearn for change
The sky will be forever present
smiling at us fondly
Watching our attempts to get away
Though the world may stray further from paradise 
The hope of the abyss will never wander
The constellations we named will never desert us
And the sun will burn bright until the bitter end

​

Untitled
by Thomas Starzomski

Wayward Beach
by Hannah Gallant
my surroundings are grey.
empty, devoid of life, devoid of feeling.
a dystopian wasteland world.
a world born of fear, a world born of pain.
every day, I wake up, and tread the
endless sludge of this world,
always telling myself that it will never get better.
but then I see her.
I see her standing there, arms open,
beckoning me to approach.
to tumble deep into her warm embrace.
and I sprint through the sludge.
and the skies of grey.
to get to her arms.
I collapse into her, burying my face into the crook of her neck.
and there I feel safe,
there I feel warm, there I feel at peace.
the space between those arms is my paradise,
and my god do I never want to leave.​
Blue skies stretch past the horizon
Sweet sea-sounds soothe him
Each morning and night.

His days are peaceful
and quiet
In palm-tree shadows
He watches bright birds swoop
then fly out of sight.

If only he had someone to share this with
Then this would all feel right.

​

“we’re living in the good old days”
​by Ella Pegan

How am I here?
by Jenna Mihalchan
paradise is a day that feels longer than eight hours
paradise is <5 hours of screentime a day
paradise is two books a month, at least
paradise is kisses on the nose, forehead, cheek, hand
paradise is big eyeliner and cute clothes and pictures with friends
paradise is a room i haven’t spent at least an hour in every day for a year
paradise is a breath that doesn’t feel watched
paradise is deleting the google classroom app
paradise is trading presents and treats
paradise was everything i didn’t realize i had

​
How am I here? On the edge of this mountain and this relationship. We’re staring up at the sky rather than each other. But it feels right this way. It’s not simply looking into the soul of another, it’s feeling it too. The sun kisses my skin with colours of beet and grapefruit, as well as the ever increasing darkness akin to the shade of the deep blue ocean. I see her in the beautiful sunset and I know she's seeing me in it too. What happened to the days where we would talk and talk and never run out of things to say? I don’t miss them. I know she doesn’t either. They’re how we got here; to this point where silence is comfortable and welcoming. So many conversations exist in our heads now, through our eyes we transfer our thoughts. Words have limits but our communication does not. Who allowed me to know and love the angel at my side. Her with her soft skin and affectionate presence. The sweet smile she flashes, the one that slowly inches across her face, constantly incites warmth in my chest. The feathery brush of her fingers against my hands, my legs, my arms. I ask myself again, how am I here?

​

Some Candy, Doctor?
​ By Katelyn Topshee 

Characters
DR. JOHN A. CAMPBELL: A newly deceased 63 year old man. A professor of Religious Studies at Carleton University. An atheist. 
PURIEL: A ? year old male-appearing afterlife gateway manager. Works as a record-keeper for those who make their journey to the afterlife, and helps deceased souls find their way there. 


A small blank room. There are no doors or windows. A desk stands at the far right of the room where PURIEL sits behind it. There is a lot of paper in front of him yet it still seems neatly organized. A computer sits on the desk, and PURIEL seems to be reading something on it. There is a small bowl of cherry candy next to the computer. There is a chair opposite to PURIEL. JOHN appears on the right, confused. He looks around him, and his eyes fall on PURIEL. 
JOHN:    Um... hello? Where am I?
(PURIEL looks up at JOHN, smiling) 
PURIEL:    Hello Dr. Campbell, please sit down. 
(PURIEL gestures to the chair opposite to him. JOHN looks at PURIEL, still skeptical, but sits down.)
JOHN:     Am I…?
PURIEL:     Yes, Doctor, you’re dead. I’m sorry to tell you. 
JOHN:    Oh… I see.