The Lounge SingerDirector: Sidney Shuman Photographer: Jasmine Thompson Makeup: Rachel Thibault Model: Gentry Ransom Writer: Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com 
Put a swipe of color on the bulge of your lips and they'll float above the stage as your notes sway and then soar to the stars, serenading Jupiter and Venus 
Death to the TrollStory by Christine Stoddard Illustrations by Celina Suh QuailBellMagazine.com 
Angel in WaitingDirector: Tykeya O'Neil Photographer: Jasmine Thompson Stylists: Lindsey Story and Sidney Shuman Model: Tiffany Nunn Writer: Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com 
Delicious death, the savior of dreams I am destined for the truest indigo a most veritable violet unknown to this earth 
Breaking Away from Your Roots Director: Tykeya O'Neil Photographer: Jasmine Thompson Stylists: Lindsey Story and Sidney Shuman Model: Leah Schmidt Writer: Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com 
Nails in the soil, tickling the corpses-- what are you digging for? Your ancestors are tired, begging you to break away from your bloody roots. 
Salvation does not lie in the past, only in the dark eyes of the future, tucked beneath a raven's wing, hidden as a snail's legs. 
Whisper into the future and tiptoe until your dreams become the present, until your fantasies untie themselves from yesterday's little crucifixes. 
Do not become your elders. Surpass them. 
Break the vine and suck the berry. 
The wooded path is yours to clear with clean nails, not claws. 
Caught in the Rip TideDirector: Lindsey Story Photographer: Jasmine Thompson Stylists: Sidney Shuman and Amy Gatewood Writer: Christine Stoddard Models: Terrio Weathers and Taylor Smith QuailBellMagazine.com 
Many marshes ago, I fell in love with a stranded siren too far from the sea. 
PenserPhotographer: Alexander C. Kafka Writer: Paisley Hibou Model: Luna Lark QuailBellMagazine.com  Pensiveness, noun form of pensive, hailing from the Middle English pensif, derived from Old French/ Softer than think, not as brusque or pointy, like something about to clink and clank/ against the kitchen counter on its way down from your brain,/ tumbling from the canals running through your mind,/ lobe to lobe to lobe to lobe to lobe,/ before it sinks into your life/ and becomes reality/ Safari SirenDirector: Tykeya O'Neil Stylists: Lindsey Story and Sidney Shuman Photographer: Jasmine Thompson Make up Artist: Rachel Thibault Writer: Christine Stoddard Model: Sacagewea Allen QuailBellMagazine.com 
Ananzi is a safari siren A trickster of men and beasts The sexy Puck of Africa Long-legged and hungry 
I need marshmallowsBy Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com  ForgetFairytales.com Staring at the MoonBy Niko Sheffield QuailBellMagazine.com “Seriously,” she said as she removed a lock of hair from her face, “you’ve gotta chill out dude.” “I know,” he said. He took a deep breath and wiped his face. There was no one around them on the vast grassland near the lake. They were alone, accompanied only by a full moon that, to him, felt closer than usual. “I just don’t know why I’m here. What’s the point of my existence? It’s gotta be more to my life than just this.” She stared at him as he looked up at the moon. She was fully aware of the reasons he was beginning to feel this way and her fears were confirmed when she noticed the very slight and pale glow emit from his hands. As they stood in front of the lake they’d been going to since childhood, she began to think back to all of the times he’d been there to make her smile whenever she was at a low point. Anything she’s ever needed he always showed up to help no matter what the situation may have been. In her mind, his departure right now would be unacceptable. She had to lift his mood before she lost him forever. She couldn’t let him ascend. 
Illustration by Hannah Grubbs “Hey, loser,” she said playfully pushing him. He laughed and she pushed him again. Soon they were both rolling around in the grass just as they had when they were younger. When they were done with their playful bout the young man stood up to stare at full moon. Two drops of rain hit his cheek. “Just like we’re kids again, right?” she said with a giggle. He chuckled and continued on with his gaze. As he stared at the moon his hand began to become translucent. Knowing what this meant, she hurried quickly to distract him from ascending. She wasn’t ready to lose him. With a playful yell she tackled him and landed on his face, closed mouth to closed mouth. In the midst of the accidental event, she slightly parched her lips to kiss him, and he did the same. She grabbed his hand, making sure it was still humanlike, and they shared their first kiss together. The boy loved her, but he knew for some reason he would never be able to do this again. The girl loved him as well, but she was hoping that her love would be able to stop the overall inevitable. Eventually he will ascend, and she’ll have to let him go. | The Unreal
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