"As you may have heard, several Quinnipiac students have managed, through hard work and persistance, to revive Montage, the college literary magazine. I urge you all to give the magazine your support in whatever way possible..."
—Mark Johnston, 1994
Like all issues since its birth, this magazine is a product of the creativity of the students of Quinnipiac University.
You said no thank you when my mother
offered you cheese and crackers, the thin
Crunchmaster multi-seed kind, which taste
too healthy to taste any good. We hid
our laughter as the plate flopped on the tile,
the ceramic clanging, crackers crushing.
[please read in one breath]
It was a simple idea – I heard them discuss it during lunch. If they could just keep going with the debate, I mean, for the entire hour, Mr. Anderson would have to postpone the midterm, and we’d have to Monday to worry about it.
I drive down the winding road, smoke from my cigarette clawing its way out of my cracked driver’s side window and into the freezing air. The sound of the engine hums through the car as I lean my head on my hand, my arm resting on the door—the vibrations running up and down my arm.
With all things considered, 1996 was a monumental year in United States history. Bill Clinton was re-elected into office, the Dallas Cowboys were cementing themselves as “America’s Team,” and Will Smith commenced his tenure as Earth’s premier guardian in regards to extraterrestrial invasion.
It is 1964 and the Taiwan Republic of China is in a state of fear. For 21 years, every Taiwanese man has had to serve in the military following their high school graduation. The people of Taiwan are anticipating an attack or invasion on their small island off the southeastern coast of the mainland.
I had practiced the song over and over and over again, yet I was still afraid I would forget the words. Standing alone in the dark wings of the stage, my sweaty hands gripping the microphone, I repeatedly sang the first line in my head.
Sometimes the dogs bark really late at night. I pull down one of the shades over my window with my finger and look through it, at the house across the street and to the left. During the day, I can see the dogs at the corner of the black metal fence.
I lied to the waitress today. She asked me what my name was and I said Felicity. My name is not Felicity but I wanted to know what it would be like to change my identity. But then I realized that even though she called me by a different name, I was still me.