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Tea Party in the WoodsDirector: Christine Stoddard Director of Photography: John Scott Stylist & Production Assistant: Tykeya O'Neil Models: Virginia Nickerson & Luna Lark QuailBellMagazine.com Editor's Note: This photo set was done in honor of QB's recently deceased Managing Editor, Josephine Stone, who died in October, just a couple days before her favorite holiday--Halloween. The shoot was originally supposed to feature Josie with Executive Editor Christine Stoddard ("Luna Lark") and Art Director Virginia Nickerson in QB's first-ever staff photo shoot. Josie was both nervous and excited about the shoot, teasing that she had to practice her model pose. The QB Crew deeply regrets that Josie could not participate in the shoot, but we hope that the photo set is close to what she imagined. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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Happy Thanksgiving!Dear fledglings,
We hope that you have a lovely holiday, full of fun and feasting. After you OD on your favorite foods, make sure to pay us a visit! We'll be waiting for you. Feathery Hugs, The QB Crew The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Dragon's GateBy Shannon Wendt QuailBellMagazine.com Zachariah Avery grimaced as the tattooist pushed colorful ink into his skin. The high pitched whine of the tattoo machine was grating on his nerves. The sensation on his arm varied from a warm but pleasant massage to sharp, grinding pain, as if his bone was being chipped away by a miniature jackhammer. Most of the time, it was just painfully annoying. He stared straight ahead, trying to let his mind go blank, while remaining perfectly still in the awkward position the tattooist had placed him in. He focused on a spot in the wall's texture that resembled a sea turtle. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Four months ago, a long-haul driver had fallen asleep at the wheel, and his forty-ton rig had mowed his parents' sedan down. It had taken the fire department ten hours to cut their bodies from the wreckage. Zach was alone now. At twenty-two, he had no family to speak of, no close friends, no work associates. It wasn't until his parents' death that he realized he had been alive but not truly living all this time. He had lived with his parents for the whole of his life; he even attended a local college so he could keep living at home. His had been a shared existence, a half-life. Now, he found himself a semi-grown-up who didn't know how to make decisions, or friends, or dinner. It was time to evolve into a fully-fledged person, and this tattoo symbolized his first, tentative step into the waters of independent life. As he stared at the wall, he imagined the potential--the could-be, would-be, will-be--of his future. The buzzing stopped. The tattooist wiped down Zach's arm with alcohol. The burning sensation instantly ceased. The skin felt cool, fresh, and vibrant. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, it had been reborn. For Zach, this was the culmination of a personal quest. With this tattoo, he felt he was starting his life anew, a fresh, almost spiritual re-beginning. The reflection in the mirror was breathtaking. It looked as if a Japanese watercolor master had used his arm as a canvas on which to create his life's masterpiece. The white-and-gold koi fish looked magnificent. The king of his lair. His scales seemed to shimmer, his gills seemed just on the brink of breathing. He strongly swam upstream in azure waters the color of the sky on a cloudless midsummer's afternoon. The water parted to make way for him in graceful arcing waves. Cherry blossoms fell as if to grace his presence in a tinker-tape parade of pink and white. It was glorious! Zach tried to convey all this to the tattooist who had created it from ink and flesh with steel. "Wow, it's great," was all he could manage. He had never been any good at communicating with people. His brain simply froze when he had to talk to strangers. Within a day, the tattoo had clouded over, as the tattooist had said it would. Looking at it now was like going to a museum with milk glass goggles on. Zach was impatient to see it again in all its glory, but until then he kept up the ritual of cleansing it and feeding it creams and lotions several times a day. Over the next week, it began to molt, just as real koi fish do after an illness or serious injury. Although it itched something fierce, Zach let the flaking skin be and just patted it with lotion--which he thought of as food for his tattooed fish--from time to time. Finally on the eighth night while Zach was asleep, the koi fish reemerged from its healing process, spectacular and mighty. Zach fancied he could feel it breathing there in his arm. During a particularly vivid dream, he imagined it had risen up and launched itself free of his skin to taste the dark, night air. When he woke up, the koi was embedded in the translucent canvas of his skin in all of its technicolor radiance. As he showered that morning, Zach imagined he could feel the fish rejoicing, splashing to and fro in the stream of falling water, drinking up its fresh bounty. After toweling off, he fed the tattoo some cream, and the ink seemed to absorb it and grow even more vibrant than before. Every male (and some of the women) who frequented The Daily Grind Coffee Shop was enamored of Isabel de la Paz, one of the baristas who worked there. They couldn't help be entranced by her classical beauty--strong nose, delicate cheekbones, wavy black hair, and her full lips, which were always slightly open as if offering a kiss. Born in Spain, she spoke perfect English, albeit with a slightly exotic, sibilant accent. Zach ordered his usual breakfast--a large, black, house-roast coffee and a cheese danish. As Isabel handed him his coffee, Zach's tattoo suddenly became warm and tingly--as if he'd been leaning his arm against a radiator. The sensation startled him, and his arm jerked as he took the coffee cup from Isabel. Hot coffee cascaded over the counter and the cup fell to the ground, empty and steaming. Zach found himself holding Isabel's hand, although he didn't remember taking it. He released her hand. "Sorry about that." He smiled into her warm, brown eyes. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" She tilted her head as if considering his offer, surely not the first she had received that day. "I would love to have dinner with you. Tonight?" Zach didn't know what had come over him today, but he was elated. He floated on his own personal cloud of confidence. As he went about his job as a bike messenger, he spoke to people when he'd never so much as made eye contact before. He joked with his boss, got to know some of the other messengers, and practically strutted as he made deliveries to uptight lawyers in posh office buildings. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
DetourBy John Zhao QuailBellMagazine.com The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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Aquatic MythWriter/Actress: Olivia Blackwell Photographer: Erin Maloney Videographer: Christine Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com Tormented and cast off by others, Cecilia retreats to her waterfall ridge. Day after day, she tip toes down the jagged rocks, moving with the poise and grace of the mythical creature she longs to become-- a mermaid. Perched atop a rock, she waits eagerly for this exquisite being to appear. That splash in the water! Was it a fin, made up of shimmering, green scales? Maybe. But, perhaps not. The insults worsen and the taunting grows crueler by the day. Cecilia begins to wonder, is this creature real? Or is it merely an aquatic myth? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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Let's PlayBy Helen Georgia Stoddard QuailBellMagazine.com The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
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