Alighieri Winter Edition

Volume 7 Issue 1

Editors: Holly G ’22, Kate T ’22, Sylvie B ’22, Maya P ’23, Rids P ’23, Jelena C ’25

Kate A ’25- Response to Josh Dorman’s “my baby blanket“

Blues, greens, and purples swirl together, curling around the corners and edges as a border and creating an intimate scene of light pastels. Headless creatures comfort you and invite you to use your imagination. What happened to these monsters without faces, shallow craters filling in for what should be a head? Why are they so sympathetic towards everyone and everything? Could it be because they know this is just a temporary escape for us, not our reality? 

A music box plays in the background, filling your head with the sound of lullabies while a path is drawn out from a snowglobe. Protective, gentle, peaceful. This is what a small child’s dreams could look like, sound like, feel like. Welcoming and uplifting, turquoise flowers and small, secure villages call for your attention while one single butterfly glides through the crystal clear yet foggy air, mountainous yet feeling like the cleanest breath you’ll ever take. How did this one butterfly get here? Is it here by choice, here to pull you in? Or is it here because it was caught by a small patch of fog above a mountain, now stuck here drifting?

Trees and horses fade into the pastel dream that they call their home, urging the headless creatures and scenes guarded by glass to come forward, to draw you into their world. 

Are these sheltered scenes, drifting butterflies, and somehow clear and fresh fog there to protect you? Are they there to pull you in, give you an escape from reality? Or could it be that they are there to drag you in, to make you feel what they feel – never being able to escape? Stuck in one place forever, watching people walk by and marvel at how beautiful they are while ignoring their silent calls for help. 

The type of scene you’d see depicted on a baby’s blanket, on a quilt that you cuddle with when it’s cold and storming and you’re afraid. Calming, warm yet not warm, the colors and creatures giving just enough encouragement to keep going while also telling you it’s ok to be scared. The mountains remind you of the barriers you’ll have to overcome, yet also invite you to join a community of pastels and shadows, protected towns and wandering monsters, soft music, and lightly layered hills. A community that wants you to join them yet isn’t guaranteed to let you go. The kind of thing that you’ll carry with you forever.

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Aurora O ’24- Response to Josh Dorman’s “brink“

The mist floats down around the piss-colored map of locations unknown. Out of the map, a machination springs forth and dumps a gooey magenta non-newtonian fluid on the map. Under these machinations, a lady formed of water leans forwards and a giraffe covered in red mist drinks the ladies river. A monkey sits on a rock looking into the depths of your soul and thinks only of bananas. The rocks sit for ages too lazy to move. Carl had sat on their brother rocks for so long yet there was no reason to move, not even to the changing environment. Their cousin the pots also barely moved except brother Kettle, Kettle moved every time when they were filled with water, and Kettle was always excited for that water. This water would excite only brother Kettle though and not any of the other pots. The watery mass that Kettle sat on moved frequently but only to the will of the winds. The bird laughed as Kettle was thinking, the bird of course knew that Kettle was a ridiculous pot and would never be able to understand the reality of their situation. The virus under the bird awoke to the bird’s rampant cackling and slowly moved towards its microscope, but was pestered by the blitzkrieg of birds. A cottage sat in the middle right snuggled between the red above and orange below. It had watched this scene repeat for ages on end and no change but it always hoped that one day a virus would find that one thing it had lost when it first arrived in this strange place.

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Oscar ’24- Response to Josh Dorman’s “vessels“

I wake up, I get out of bed, I go to the bathroom, I shower, I wash my hair and my body and feel the water and shampoo going down my body then I dry myself, I get out of the tub, I brush my teeth and then I look in the mirror I feel empty. I don’t see a face. I look around my surroundings. Nothing feels real, I feel like I’m dreaming like none of this really exists. Like I’m not in my own body, like I’m just in autopilot mode and I’m not making my own decisions. 

I can’t take it. I need to know why I feel like this. I need an answer and a solution. I need to dig deep inside I think. I keep thinking about what could cause this at all. 

I lay in my bed. I stare at the white ceiling. I slowly fall asleep being comforted by the softness of my bed. I wake up again and head to my kitchen to get something to eat and to drink. I’m pretty sure my mom made some Spaghetti so I’ll just heat some up. 

I put powdered cheese on the Spaghetti. It makes it taste way better. I start drinking my water but something weird happens. I’m drinking the water out of the bottle but it still has the cap on. Suddenly someone or something flips the chair I’m on and I fall to the ground.

I woke up in my bed again and felt so confused. What is causing all this? I go outside and I fall for what felt like an eternity. I wake inside a pool of water and I can feel myself drowning. I start swimming up and I see an exit.

I don’t wanna go all the way in because I’m scared that there might be something that will try to hurt me there. But what if it’s the thing that will save me and protect me. So I only peeped a bit of my body out of it. I look around and see foods from my fridge without anything filling them. Like the foods are completely hollow with nothing inside.

 I see other household items turned into weird creatures without anything inside them. I see blackbirds flying all over the place. And I also see geckos. I feel my face and I reach inside myself. We all had one thing in common.

 We are all vessels. Waiting for something to fill us inside. As soon as I made that realization I woke up again. This time I pinch myself as hard as I can and I feel the pain. I’m awake but I still feel like I’m in a dream and that nothing is real.

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Bea M ’24- Response to Josh Dorman’s “trapped in amber“

For always I was immersed in the thick viscous puss of the sky wound. When I saw the ground through the glossy sheen of the opening it looked busy. The minute I fell through, and the slimy puss was thrown off my buzzing wings, I could feel the thick smog suffocate me. I knew the air of home was thick but not like that. It was warm like home should be, but not warm like sunshine, warm like hot machinery or tracks that a train has just passed over. Next, my eyes were exposed to the piercing lights and metallic air emanating from the ground. I longed for the rhythmic hum of home, not the everpresent amalgam of clinking metal, car horns, and incoherent speech that I heard here. Soon, my eyes adjusted to the burning air and light and I could see! The gorgeous intricacy of the architecture was mesmerizing, nothing like the ambiguous geometric structures I saw from the sky wound. Not a thing was still. I knew home was not like this, but I didn’t feel any guilt from taking in the overwhelming, organic flow of the grounds’ perpetual movement. Suddenly it didn’t feel good anymore. It was all too much. Everything I was experiencing melted together into a tortuous hum that pounded on my brain. In a demented visceral response to the spiraling evil that pierced my skin and shook my organs, I froze. A loud pop echoed throughout my body and all was still. I caught myself without the help of the solid air, but with my wings. My eyes opened, against my will, despite my sinking fear of what I’d seen. Now I saw the throb of the city, felt the grasp of the smog, and the air still burned my lungs, but all was quiet. Not a thought passed my mind, except the acknowledgment that it was over. I had been given a gift that allowed me to find home without falling victim to the city. In the distance, I saw home. The buildings and the air spiraled towards her, inviting me in. the center of the spiral was deep and iridescent. It was alive but didn’t pound like the city. The enchanting rhythm of her beating heart told me I was safe. She took me in her grasp and gently pulled me into her chest. I could feel the pressure of the heavy movement in my stomach and said goodbye to the beautiful city when I saw him through home’s swirling purple aura. I drifted through home’s arms like a corpse in a river, until I washed ashore into the humid embrace of where I belonged. With one last glance, I could see the city on the horizon before I sank into the dense mud around me.

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Marysville Ultimate- Owen L ’22

“Up!”

A long throw had just left Johanna’s hand. The disc flew up over the grassy field where the young Ultimate players were playing in the hot June sun. To both sides of them other teams of young people were playing, spread across the open grass from one end to the other. A Metro train rolled by to the side of the field. Oliver, running as hard as he could, crossed paths with the disc just in time, catching it in the end zone for a score.

The players made their way off the field. It was halftime. Oliver and Johanna found each other.

“Nice catch,” Johanna said to Oliver.

“That was an amazing throw,” Oliver said. “You managed to get it around all of those people in the middle. I could never do that.”

The two of them sat next to each other as the team met with their coach. The players drank from their water bottles, many until they were empty, trying to cool off from the blisteringly hot sun.

After a brief discussion of strategy, another line was called. Johanna and Oliver both returned to the field. Alex, another player on the field, suggested that Johanna throw to Oliver again.

“It works nearly every time,” he added.

“Oliver makes some excellent cuts,” Johanna said, “but I’m not throwing exclusively to him if other people are open.”

The other team raised a hand. Johanna pulled, throwing the disc across the field and landing neatly in the end zone. The players began to run down the field.

Whether or not it was the plan, Johanna threw to Oliver for a score multiple more times during the tournament. After the final game of the day, when the team regrouped, Alex asked Johanna how she got so good.

“I don’t think I’m as good as you think,” she said. “I threw it away multiple times. And if it wasn’t for all of the cuts people were making, I never could’ve had so many assists.”

“I know,” Alex said, “but you showed up out of the blue to become the best player on our team. How does that happen?”

“Can you come to more tournaments with us?” Oliver asked.

“Are you going to join our league in the fall?” Alex asked.

“I’d love to play more with you,” Johanna answered, “but in the fall I’m going back to Moselfurt in Germany.”

“You’re German?” Oliver asked, surprised.

“Well, kind of,” Johanna answered. “My parents are both American, but they moved to Germany several years ago. My dad works as a lecturer at Moselfurts Universität. We lived in Marysville before that, and we come back frequently to see my grandmother who still lives there.”

“Oh,” said Oliver. “Well, I hope you can come back some time. It was great having you here.”

“Of course,” Johanna answered. “I had a lot of fun. And I should be able to join you for more tournaments this summer. We don’t leave until mid-July.”

Johanna returned again for another tournament that year. She made many good throws in the games, playing in the handler position almost every point she was on the field. Oliver caught several very difficult catches, including a few where he had to lay out.

* * *

Roughly a year after they first met, Johanna met up with the ultimate team for a tournament. Oliver was the first person to greet her.

“Hi!” Oliver said.

“Hallo,” Johanna said in a friendly voice.

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Alex said. “We’ve been missing your throws all year.”

“I think it’s possible that you might be overestimating my throwing skills,” Johanna answered.

The three of them were soon on the line. Johanna raised her hand and the other team threw the pull. Johanna caught it and quickly threw it to Marco, a new player. He quickly continued to Alex, who threw it back to Johanna. She then threw it to Oliver for a score.

The next point, as they were on the sideline, Marco’s mother came over and asked Johanna a question.

“Are you new here?” she asked.

“I’m from Germany and I’m playing with the Marysville team while my family is visiting my grandmother,” Johanna answered. Oliver looked puzzled.

“I thought you just lived in Germany,” he asked after Marco’s mother had left. “Didn’t you say that you were born in Marysville?”

“I was,” Johanna answered. “I prefer to say I’m from Moselfurt now though.”

“Why?” Oliver asked. “People aren’t going to run away from you or anything.”

“Yes they will,” Johanna said, upset. “Someone’s done it to me.”

“Well, maybe some crazy people will, but the majority of people know better than that. Besides, Germany has a pretty rotten record for these things compared to Marysville.”

“Germany doesn’t deny their problems. And Angela Merkel looks quite good compared to a certain figure of high authority here.”

The other team caught a score, and the two of them were called onto the line again. Johanna handled, staying back to pick up the disc. Oliver got open deep, close to the end zone, but Marco made a good in-cut towards Johanna and she threw to him instead. Unfortunately, he fumbled the disc and dropped it. The person who Oliver was supposed to be guarding made a break for their end zone, leaving Oliver far behind, and soon scored.

“Why didn’t you pass to me?” Oliver asked Johanna when they were on the sideline again. “I was open!”

“I saw Marco first,” Johanna responded.

“But Marco wasn’t very deep,” Oliver said.

“In-cuts are generally more reliable,” Johanna said. “Over the last year I have learnt to look in more.”

“But Marco dropped it and they scored!”

“I’m looking for the best option. You’re not always the best option.”

“But what if you’re wrong about the best option?”

“You still have to commit to something that you think will work out.”

“Isn’t hucking it deep safer than doing a short upfield pass if we drop the disc?”

“You’re assuming that it’s a turnover. I’m trying to minimize turnovers.”

Another line was called. Johanna and Oliver went back onto the field. The other team pulled short, leaving the disc halfway up the field. Johanna picked it up and looked for open players. Oliver made a cut into the end zone. His defender stood in the way of in-cuts leaving him unguarded. Johanna made a throw to Oliver. However, a sudden gust of wind interrupted the high throw, sending it off course. The disc hit the ground, out of bounds. It was a turnover.

A player on the opposing team picked up the disc. The player Johanna was defending began to run towards the end zone. Johanna ran after him, keeping pace. The player with the disc threw it to the player Johanna was guarding, but Johanna caught the disc. 

A much bigger gust of wind blew through the field. Johanna held on to the disc for a moment, before making a low throw to Sarah, who caught it. Alex made a cut towards Sarah, who threw it up to him. Johanna made a strike cut to get the disc from Alex. Slowly and surely, and despite the wind in their faces, they got the disc into the end zone for a score.

Johanna and Oliver were subbed out, and Johanna made a comment to Oliver.

“Now that it’s getting windy, we could use some more in cuts,” she said.

“I know,” Oliver said. “It’s just that I was born a deep cutter.”

“You can become more than you were born as,” Johanna responded.

“I know, it’s just that part of me that wants to go deep. I don’t think it’ll ever leave me, even when I’m on some college team beyond Marysville.”

“You can become a better player, though. When I first started out, I was terrible at backhands. Now I throw them all the time.”

“You still prefer forehands, though, right?”

“Yes, but if a backhand would work better, I won’t try to throw a forehand instead.”

“That doesn’t change anything fundamental, though. It’s just a new skill.”

“If you’re convinced that you’ll never get better, then you’ll be stuck in the MUD forever. Marysville Ultimate, that is, literally.”

“Just because Marysville is part of me doesn’t mean that I’ll never be able to move on. I mean, you can play most of the year in Germany, even though you’re not really German.”

A tear dripped down Johanna’s face. “You don’t understand! I am German! Even though some people seem to think I must be like the Marysville hotel bomber.”

“I’m not saying that. I just don’t think you need to deny your past.”

“It’s not denying who I am, it’s accepting it.”

The other team scored another point. A new line was called and Johanna and Oliver were both on it. The pull went out of bounds, letting Johanna take it from the brick mark in the center of the field. The defense was well set up, and no cuts seemed to be open. Johanna eventually swung the disc to Max. The strong defense of the other team prevented all of the cutters from getting open. Johanna made a strike cut and got the disc back. Looking downfield, no players were open.

Oliver suddenly made a plant and a hard cut into the end zone. Johanna made a fake and then threw the disc up and over the other players. Oliver ran at it, getting closer and closer. A slight breeze then altered the disc’s trajectory. Oliver propelled himself forward from the ground, snatching the disc and laying out, ending up on his stomach on the ground, with mud smeared on his shirt.

As they made their way back to the sideline, Oliver walked over to Johanna again.

“Nice throw,” he said. “Their defense was tough.”

“Nice catch,” Johanna replied. “You really laid out for it.”

“I’m sorry that I was so argumentative,” Oliver said. “I just get that way sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” Johanna replied. “Just please accept me for who I am too. I know it might not be what you expect, but it’s who I’ve become.”

“I will,” Oliver promised.

“And remember,” Johanna added, smiling, “we’re literally on the same team.”

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