The Snow Princess Thrives
Directors: Sidney Shuman and Lindsey Story
Photographer: Jasmine Thompson
Stylist/Makeup: Kasey Kohlhorst
QuailBellMagazine.com
Photographer: Jasmine Thompson
Stylist/Makeup: Kasey Kohlhorst
QuailBellMagazine.com
Translate the UtterancesBy Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com Time whispers answers, but I do not pass the notes, knowing not how to read music. So my adult game of Telephone turns into a call ad with all the wrong social cues. I'm tune-deaf to destiny and I can't trade in my ears for a new set of aural oracles. Choices are invisible, like rhythm and blues and beats, beats, beats are invisible. Throw out your hand, touch a drum, hum, hum, hum, but the notes are invisible. Keep whispering, Time, but I'll never pass the notes, I'll never get the message, I'll never have a set of ears that see and eyes that hear because I am no oracle. How the Snake Bird Learned to Dry His Feathers By Malcolm R. Campbell QuailBellMagazine.com On a long-ago summer afternoon in the land between the rivers, Tcheecateh was enjoying a long, cat-like stretch of a nap on a fallen sabal palm until the snake bird created a raucous spectacle by running, splashing and wing flapping across the previously calm water of the swamp. Although the blissful quiet returned when the bird finally became airborne, the panther kitten hissed at a blowing leaf out of frustration and stood up to see who else was awakened by Chentetivimketv’s noisy takeoff. Weehatkay, the kitten’s cynical water moccasin friend, lay in a disorganized coil at the far end of the log. As usual, his white mouth was hanging wide open in a rather permanent yawn. The kitten hissed again, pretending a bear hid behind Grandmother Cypress. “There’s no need for the pretense, Tcheecateh, my nap also came to an abrupt end.” The moccasin’s yellow cat-like eyes focused on the young panther’s indigo eyes with a rare trace of humor in them, though Tcheecateh thought the flickering shadows from the feathery cypress leaves might be playing with his imagination again. “Chentetivimketv can soar with eagles,” said Weehatkay, rattling his tail in the leaves for emphasis, “but when he’s too wet to easily find the wind, he exhibits less grace than a feral hog.” “Feral hogs are tasty, but I’ve never seen one fly.” “My point exactly,” said the snake. “While I’m dispensing wisdom, I might as well tell you my snake brothers and I don’t think Chentetivimketv looks snaky enough to be called a snake bird.” “That’s Fuswa’s name for him,” said the kitten, wondering if the old Limpkin was listening from the pickerel weed. “I have never seen a snake with a yellow bill for a mouth,” said Weehatkay. “Me neither,” said Tcheecateh. “Look, here comes Ahkoluhfutcho. He can leap into the air from the water’s surface without any fuss and bother. Perhaps he knows what’s wrong with Chentetivimketv.” “I doubt a showy duck with a green neck and orange legs knows about anything other than preening and looking at his reflection in puddles.” The Music of LoveBy Tala Bar QuailBellMagazine.com He was a young prince who grew up in comfort and luxury and was nurtured on learning and beauty. He was handsome enough, with warm brown eyes and hair, and he looked favorably at the world around him. How was he to know anything about life? One day he sat in the meadow near his father's palace, trying to make his lyre produce some music his mentor was attempting to teach him. It was not going very well, and he laid the instrument by his side with some disgust and looked around him; Argos, his dog and constant companion, looked at him with disapproval. It was spring time, and the green meadow was covered with a motley of flowers. There was nothing new in this sight itself, but today something was happening on the meadow. A woman was dancing among the blossoms, and the prince thought he had never seen such a beautiful sight in his life. Her bare feet hardly touched the ground and she seemed to be floating with the light wind that was blowing. A flower garland encircled her golden hair which shimmered in the bright sun, flying off her head and revealing a very pretty face with shining blue eyes. She wore a transparent, rosy garment that made her look like one of the flowers on the meadow. Unaware of what he was doing, the prince picked up the lyre he had laid down, held it right and hit the strings. A new music emerged he had never known before. His hand glided easily on the strings as he played to the girl's dance. The girl seemed to have heard the new sound, as she made changes in her dance in accord with the music. She twisted and twirled, moved her arms and worked with her legs. Her bare feet caressed the blossoms with their light touch. As she turned her head here and there, her hair flew like a golden stream. In her dance, she now came closer and closer to the player. His eyes followed her every movement and his fingers flew over the strings as if by themselves. At last, the dancer was so close to the musician that instead of dancing in front of him, she began dancing around him. He could barely follow her with his eyes now so he closed them, as if seeing her in his mind's eye. The music and the dance merged together, getting swifter and swifter, turning to sound more like the beat of a drum than the flow of a tune, until nothing was left of the music but a series of strong beats. Suddenly, they stopped, and the girl fell at the prince's feet with her head and half her body lying in his lap. He opened his eyes to look at her face that was turned up toward his own. Both of them gasped for breath. Slowly, breathing more calmly, the dancer moved, her motions flowing and graceful. She sat up across from him and looked at him with a half-smile. Z-BonicsBy Jamez Chang QuailBellMagazine.com The first Korean-American hip-hop artist--or at least the first one featured on Quail Bell.  Jamez Chang is a poet, writer, lawyer, and former hip-hop artist living in Englewood Cliffs, NJ. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in FRiGG, Prime Number, The Sim Review, Subliminal Interiors, Boston Literary Magazine, Marco Polo, and the anthology Yellow Light. After graduating from Bard College, Jamez went on to become the first Korean-American to release a hip-hop album, Z-Bonics (F.O.B. Productions, 1998), in the United States. Jamez currently works in the video game industry in New York City. | The Unreal
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