What’s Dead Isn’t Truly Dead by Makenzie Slack


My body was in intense pain, from my eyes down to my stomach. I couldn’t tell where I was; it was dark and cold, and I couldn’t move, although I felt like I was floating. I thought that couldn’t be right, only to hear it out loud. It was repeating. Over and over until I thought my head would explode. Then suddenly bombarded with memories. I remember…I know what he did…. . At this point, I wanted to cry. I bawled in thought until I felt something….

Chapter 1 Awake

I felt this sensation like electricity, and all the pain subsided, but I cried, cried like the pathetic person I am; I couldn’t even put up a fight. I did nothing to stop him; I did nothing to save them. I felt tears streaming down my face. I could tell someone was looking at me. I could feel their eyes burning into my back, and I still cried until they tapped me.

In a deep, low-pitched voice. “Hey…who are you….” I’d find this voice familiar; however, it was too low-pitched, so I couldn’t place it.

“I-I … I’m Jack…” I said in a scared little voice; I jumped slightly hearing my voice. It was different and glitchy. They sighed; I didn’t move. I sat there, noticing the surroundings were mostly white with tiny grey squares.

“My-my name is H-Henry-but please just call me Eteled,” they said grimly.

Henry? Henry… I could’ve sworn I heard that name before! I turned my head to face them. A bald Mii, wearing all black with wide cartoonish eyes and a slight grimace. wait…am I in the Wii?! I thought. I looked down at my hands as a shock hit me. I am a Mii. But how? Wasn’t I supposed to be dead just a moment ago?

The Drakonizing

 Written By

  Jesus L Diaz 

Black Screen/ Fade in:


Draketh (Teenager) is standing in the cold Swiss autumn hitting the winter air and weather, he is simply staring off into the distance only with bare small movements in his leg. (Sounds of synthwave Jazz begin to play quietly)


He is first staring down at the ground looking melancholy towards the earth but begins to lift his head up and start blinking rapidly.


We are then shown the ground behind him but in a blurry depth of field, as drake begins to turn his head behind him a small cardboard figure begins to lurch into the frame and become more visible as he stands motionless on the ground. For now, he is named Cardy.

The Depth of Field begins to less again as we can suddenly see a close up shot of Draketh from a god like perspective looking down on him as he eats a biscotti. By this point he is no longer looking behind him and his head is in the original position.

Continue reading “The Drakonizing”

We Could Be Juicy by Jesse Diaz

(Work in progress for non-fiction writing contest.)

Self-confidence has always been something the average American teen in the 21st century struggles towards, the movement in time in which the stars of space begin to circulate deeply into a plethora of abnormal gasses. Despite the fact, I’m sure that we already have so many but perhaps if scientist were able to deeply look deeper into the vastness of chemicals and space and elements and whatever other sciencey shit people smarter than me get their rocks off to with big giant busty big ass eyeballs than perhaps the world may or may not accelerate at a vastly superior pace than it is right now. It would be so egregiously cute if it was possible for the nerds of the world to recognize funny little gasses that make a fart 11% less smelly, harboring into the vacuum of outer worlds. I am so grateful for people smarter than me-truly. I adore them, actually. They give me room to think about space farts instead of indulging in whatever the Spanish teacher is speaking about. Truthfully, I don’t consider myself a bad kid, both in terms of grades and behavior. I’m an A, B, there may or may not be one C honor roll student who spends his free time in the study of filmmaking and other arts like writing. I’m a rather polite and shy little boy, most of the time, if I get to know you like a true friend, I am the edgiest troll of the century, a straight rebellious G spouting the most edgelord humor to grace the ear-holes of your ear-drums. Truly-absolute. But I have flaws too, I am shy. Too shy, I lack self-confidence and for as much fun as I have acting like the adult with too much self awareness. I am at the end of the day the adult…with too much self awareness. But why let yourself go nutty to become a teen, as long as one drenches themselves in irony and satire, you feel you can protect yourself yeah? 

Read more: We Could Be Juicy by Jesse Diaz

I always had that mindset, for a while, actually. Since 5th grade more accurately, to put into theory, I have put myself in a very obscene position for the last 5 years of my life that I tend to feel most around me don’t. Truly, I always want to put myself into the organic life of the man who does 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups and the moistest skin care routine I possibly can. If the audience I entertain in my mind was unable to tell, I do love making dynamical movie references. 

Experiment 002: Quintessential Comedy By: Jesse Diaz

Why do I joke so often?

When you grow up you never divulge in the catalyst of your own self-contained world

The world is always simply self-contained


Your own world is

But aiming toward others is a human attribute is it not?

Maybe when the world was different

we were among the individuals in society who would rebel




Read more: Experiment 002: Quintessential Comedy By: Jesse Diaz

But I know nothing of those days according to the elders

I was never there

No matter how many Movies I watched

Songs I listened to

My studies

The books


It could never have been enough

Not for you at least

I miss it nonetheless

I miss talky neon lightly lights, glowing cars, and David Hasselhoff

How can I?

I just do

I am very sure back in these days I could joke

I could liberate

I could indulge and I could talk.

I don’t feel like I could do that anymore

Not for her, not for me

Not for anyone.

I could try for a while, but that is only a while

I wish I could grow up older

Back when I could talk

Back when the countries would never hate me

Back when comedy was quintessential

Contest – Win up to $1,500 for your Quantum Steampunk Short Story!

The Maryland Quantum-Thermodynamics Hub is hosting a Quantum Steampunk Short-Story Contest! You have until January 15, 2023 to write and submit a short story in a steampunk style—including, but not limited to, taking place during the 1800s (and, if desired, some time in the future); and involving at least one real or imagined quantum technology.

The story will be judged by a panel of physicists and writers, and YQI members will recognize familiar faces: Ms. Quantum Steampunk herself Nicole Yunger Halpern, and YQI member Jack Harris.

All info, deadlines, and submission details are on the MQT hub website.

Maryland Voices

Submissions for Volume XIII are now being accepted through January 1, 2023.

All current high school students in the state of Maryland are eligible to submit.

Please follow this link to submit your writing. Details on submission guidelines are included in this link:

Vol XIII Submission Form:  https://forms.gle/82zJBkgLyhwivHgv5

We look forward to reviewing the submissions! If you have any questions, feel free to contact us here.

Remember: the deadline is January 1, 2023!

Nightimers Limousine Dream (ScreenPlay, Work In Progress) By: Jesus Diaz


A rose in front of a dark and grayish background with a sliver of golden liquid slowly dripping from it. (in black and white filter, with only the golden liquid being in color.)


Some say that at a time in ones own life, love is seen throughout the complexities of the human body–for some there is one in the world that can only exist for them.


The bottom of the flower is not visible in a close up shot, the black and white filter remains the same and pedals slowly begin to fall off.


This is an ideal that begins to take over many of the zeitgeist in one’s teenage year. For most, this is a concept that only exists for those in teenage years, but sadly for some the ideals and beliefs never leave their mind.



An eye-level shot of the limousine window, the limousine is moving normally. The outside world is a visible mountain range with a few slight buildings very visible.


In most cases, this creates a dissemblance in one’s mind on what the concept of love may become.-

Suddenly, a shadow figure passes through the limousine, barely visible.


In some cases, a room in one’s mind may not truly be finished. No matter how intelligent the individual may be, beyond their thoughts of love. Beyond their thoughts of intimate-sexual desires.

Continue reading “Nightimers Limousine Dream (ScreenPlay, Work In Progress) By: Jesus Diaz”

It’s a Normal Commentary Tradition, Yeah? By: Jesus Diaz

Experiment :001
Bad Boy visionaries.

A man is standing away a good measure of distance away from a household in the southern valley.
Blistering hot with the sky cloudless instead is comforted by the aurora of stars of different colors sparkling
in the sky. The ambiance proposes that the popular theory of the universe is much larger than us has been
true all along. This man is wearing multiple layers of clothing, a jagged and rough black coat that waves
down toward the back of his knees. The jacket is filled with an assortment of stickers and meaningless
symbols. His pants are skin tight with high as hell boots that reach just below his knees. His shirts are an
assortment of the darkest colors imaginable to make even your most gothic kid cringe at the sight of it. His
sunglasses are by definition, in laymen’s terms “Raw as hell.” Some might even say, they are “banging” and
even “going hard”. Real men call glasses like these bad-boy visionaries. He begins to stop staring like a
Pop tart and wipe the dust (It is actually dander, an audacious amount as a matter of fact.) off of his hat hat-
a hat that would convince you that he has traveled to our time from the past where his military exploits are
quite popular in Africa. He stops staring at the house and makes his steps toward its door. Each step is more
tempting to yell out fireball answers.
He makes his final steps towards the door of the house, it’s wooden carved disgusting termite-infested
the wooden exterior would convince young timothy down the lane that NFTs are a worthy investment. With a
slight inch of saliva drenching down his lip, he puts a hand toward gold and turn the knob, and opens the door
of the house. Inside exists nothing but a single Futon, a dirty disgusting coke-stained futon. But that fails to
be the main attraction of this house. In this house 4 figures are visible. On top of the mattress with X’s on
his hands and knuckles written and tattered with by a marker to spell out the words “drug free.” He has a
top hat and black hair with red highlights just barely at the edge of his hair. Despite how incredibly handsome
this individual sounds, the most notable aspect of him are his 3 fingers and the fact he is a stick. Like a
stick. He is a literal stick figure.

Continue reading “It’s a Normal Commentary Tradition, Yeah? By: Jesus Diaz”

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