DigitalCommons@C.O.D.

Garcia, Victoria

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 Number 1 Article 38 
Fall 12-1-2020 
The Final Drink 
Victoria Garcia 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Garcia, Victoria (2020) "The Final Drink," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 1 , Article 38. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss1/38 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
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Garcia: The Final Drink
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English

The Final Drink

Vega, Jolie

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 Number 1 Article 40 
Fall 12-1-2020 
Skinned 
Jolie Vega 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Vega, Jolie (2020) "Skinned," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 1 , Article 40. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss1/40 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Skinned                                                                                    Jolie Vega
     *content warning for graphic violence
 Mist hung heavy in the air, a blanket of dew spread upon 
the grass as the sun struggled to peer out from beneath the clouds. 
Sleep tugged at his eyelids, but the boy had no time to close his 
eyes as he struggled to keep up with his grandfather who cheerily 
shambled ahead of him. One foot went precariously in front of the 
other as his old body struggled to maintain balance on the uneven 
terrain of the forest. Their destination: the rabbit traps set up by 
the old man, a source of not only their next meal but an apparent 
cure for the boy’s “weak spirit.” He shuddered as he thought of the 
rabbit’s fate, slinking behind his grandpa as prey would move in 
fear of being eaten.
 “Ah-ha!” his grandpa chortled. He spun around with a 
rabbit helplessly wriggling in his grasp. Gasping at the sight, the 
boy felt his insides churn in tune with each desperate shake and 
twist of the rabbit. “Ah, come on now, just a bunny rabbit,” and 
with that, his grandpa dragged his catch back to the camp. “You 
bring the other one. Ya gonna learn how to skin a rabbit tonight!” 
he chuckled as he swung the rabbit merrily. The boy turned his 
eyes back towards the trap, seeing another rabbit within. Bright 
white with red eyes, the rabbit huffed anxiously, it’s body puffing 
up and down rapidly as the boy approached it and picked up the 
cage. He felt his stomach drop. 
 A swift crack in the neck and the rabbit was dead. As 
the boy’s grandpa hummed a merry tune to himself, he placed 
the rabbit’s body on a cutting board and pinched above its back, 
promptly cutting a line at the end of its neck. He then flipped the 
rabbit over and cut on its stomach, the knife effortlessly slicing 
through the rabbit’s skin, as the boy watched in terror and clutched 
the cage with his still-huffing rabbit. Unable to tear his eyes away, 
he held his breath as he watched his grandpa grab the rabbit’s 
skin and peel it back, exposing a network of stringy muscles 
underneath, wet with blood and glistening in the setting sun. The 
rabbit’s dead, glossed over eyes observed the boy carefully as his 
grandpa chopped off its head, still watching him as it rolled off the 
cutting board. Its body twisting unnaturally, it squirmed as it was 
cut open, shivered as its organs were scooped out in one smooth 
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Vega: Skinned
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motion; ropes of intestines slung out, reaching towards the end of 
the cutting board as if to escape. Chilly air crept into his lungs, the 
world a whirl of colors and shapes, before the boy passed out. 
 Only the fire illuminated their surroundings, dancing off 
every surface and eagerly pawing at the rabbit corpse roasting above 
it. He tried not to watch as the rabbit’s body slowly spun over the fire, 
dancing along with the light. He thought of his rabbit sitting in the 
freezer, completely skinned and gutted by his grandfather, waiting 
for its time over the fire. A clink of silverware alerted him that the 
rabbit was nearly ready, and he swallowed the growing lump of fear 
in his throat in preparation for dinner.
 He felt each chunk of meat glide past his tongue as he threw 
up in the privacy of the forest, hoping the sound didn’t wake up his 
grandpa. The bile mixed in with the meat burned, and he felt the 
aftertaste rabbit on his tongue. As much as he had tried to sleep, 
he just couldn’t rest with the knowledge that his rabbit was lying 
dead in a cooler. He had to at least give it a proper burial, and he’d 
turn over the cooler and spread some dirt around, so if his grandpa 
asked, he’d say that a wolf must have broken in. So with renewed 
resolve, he took a spare shirt, opened the cooler, and wrapped up 
his rabbit. 
 Treading carefully through the forest, avoiding every stick 
and leaf so as not to alert his presence to anything nearby, the boy 
continued on enveloped by the night. He wasn’t sure what he was 
looking for exactly, other than somewhere far enough that his 
grandpa would never notice, and somewhere important-looking 
enough to constitute as a grave.  
 At last, he came upon a scarred and burnt tree, its branches 
twisted and bare of life, its roots scratching and gripping the ground 
as if it were hanging off of the edge of a cliff. A large hole decorated 
the front of the tree, wind howling through the opening as if it were 
screaming in intense pain. A shiver racked his body as he stood in 
the tree’s presence, and glancing down at the crumpled lump of a 
t-shirt he held in his hands, the boy figured this was as good of a 
place as any to bury a body. It then suddenly dawned on him that 
he had neglected to bring a shovel, yet having no other options and 
desperately wanting to get the job over with, he chucked the rabbit 
into the hole of the tree. 
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The Prairie Light Review, Vol. 43, No. 1 [2020], Art. 40
https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss1/40
 All at once, a blanket of chilling sweat covered his neck, the 
hole in the tree howled like a wounded animal, and he felt a primal 
urge inside the pit of his stomach to run. It seemed like his body 
twisted around on its own, and before he knew it, he was sprinting 
back to the campsite, the forest around him an amalgamation of 
sounds. Skittering, clawing, howling, and the chattering of teeth, all 
of them desperately chasing him, at times getting close enough to 
graze his back or breathe on his neck. 
 He stole a look behind him, to give shape to the figure 
chasing him before he reached the safety of the campsite. He could 
only make out a mass of teeth chattering indistinctly and a pair of 
dead, glazed over eyes. Each tooth seemingly had a mind of its own, 
as they twisted and wriggled in a mouth indistinguishable from 
the darkness of the forest around it. Bulging eyes sized up the boy, 
as a predator does prey, with unnatural shuddering movements, 
twitching occasionally as if determining the right time to strike. 
The rest of the creature shifted unnaturally, barely illuminated by 
the moon as to where the boy couldn’t tell where the creature ended 
or began. It seemed to collapse and twist within itself, spreading 
and contracting all at once. 
 The shock gripped his throat, and as he desperately tried to 
call out to his grandpa, a small squeal choked out of him instead. A 
dull thud rang through his ears as he realized his body had crumpled 
to the ground, completely paralyzed with fear. Chest heaving up 
and down, eyes wide and fearful, he laid helplessly watching as the 
indistinct figure shambled up to him. 
 A pinch at the back, a cut at the base of his neck, and the 
feeling of skin peeling from his body, blood sloshing onto the 
ground- he tried to scream. But no sound came out. Flipped onto 
his back, all he could hear was the slashing of his stomach and the 
chattering of teeth. 
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Vega: Skinned
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Skinned

Krebaum, Joseph

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 Number 1 Article 55 
Fall 12-1-2020 
Oatmeal 
Joseph Krebaum 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Krebaum, Joseph (2020) "Oatmeal," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 1 , Article 55. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss1/55 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Oatmeal
Each bite takes me closer to paradise
A paradise that stands upon an altar
Of toothless worship and thickened praise
Topped with a tiara of melted miniature
Chocolate kisses and a throne of holy artificial
Frivolous fruit-filled pastry 
Knowing that this may be the only meal that
I will ever eat for breakfast for the rest of my life
I submerge my sacred spoon into the depths
Of a sludgy swamp overflowing with warmth
That burns my heart out until it drowns in heat
And my nose has to use the bathroom
Joseph Krebaum
JC                                                                                                   Jim Waters
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Krebaum: Oatmeal
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Oatmeal

S., Madiha

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 Number 1 Article 69 
Fall 12-1-2020 
Back Cover - Today 
Madiha S. 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
S., Madiha (2020) "Back Cover - Today," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 1 , Article 69. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss1/69 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
1
S.: Back Cover - Today
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Back Cover - Today

Jain, Megha

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 2 
Spring 5-1-2020 
Ganesha 
Megha Jain 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Jain, Megha (2020) "Ganesha," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 2. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/2 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Ganesha                                                           Megha Jain 
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Jain: Ganesha
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Ganesha

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 6 
Spring 5-1-2020 
Editorial Team 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
(2020) "Editorial Team," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 6. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/6 
This Prefatory Note is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at 
DigitalCommons@COD. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of 
DigitalCommons@COD. For more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Editorial Team
 Editor in Chief 
 - Eleanor Zilius 
 Production Editor 
 - Wren Dorris
 Marketing Editor 
 - Jolie Vega
 Associate Editor
 - Olivia Voegtle
 Assistant Editors 
 - George Kennett
 - Bridget Kingston
 - Nicole Littlefield
 - Erin McLysaght
 Faculty Advisor 
 - Adam Fotos
Cover:
Ultraviolence
Amber Houghten
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et al.: Editorial Team
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Editorial Team

Houghten, Amber

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 7 
Spring 5-1-2020 
Ultraviolence 
Amber Houghten 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Houghten, Amber (2020) "Ultraviolence," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 7. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/7 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Editorial Team
 Editor in Chief 
 - Eleanor Zilius 
 Production Editor 
 - Wren Dorris
 Marketing Editor 
 - Jolie Vega
 Associate Editor
 - Olivia Voegtle
 Assistant Editors 
 - George Kennett
 - Bridget Kingston
 - Nicole Littlefield
 - Erin McLysaght
 Faculty Advisor 
 - Adam Fotos
Cover:
Ultraviolence
Amber Houghten
1
Houghten: Ultraviolence
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Ultraviolence

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 11 
Spring 5-1-2020 
Dedication 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
(2020) "Dedication," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 11. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/11 
This Prefatory Note is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at 
DigitalCommons@COD. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of 
DigitalCommons@COD. For more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Editor’s Note
My tenure as editor-in-chief comes to a close. It’s bittersweet completing 
another journal knowing nobody will be able to read it until (at least) the fall. 
I certainly miss weekly editor meetings and in-person literary discussions. 
There is a missing human connection I can’t get from petting my dog or talking 
to my family. Despite my craving for a return to normal, I would not risk my 
family’s safety for anything. The successful production of this journal shows 
that through the tireless dedication of our team we were able to overcome the 
challenges of e-learning. I would like to thank the editorial team for their hard 
work during these difficult times. And finally, I would like to thank all of the 
talented writers and artists who make this journal possible in the first place, 
we couldn’t do it without you.
The works of this edition are organized according to the Dewey Decimal 
System. The Dewey Decimal System separates the categories by asking: what 
questions can be answered with this piece? Philosophy is 100-199, and this is 
where you’ll start and be asked, “who am I?”
As you read, think of PLR as your personal library during a time when you 
can’t go out.
- Eleanor Zilius
Editor-in-Chief
This journal’s pieces and works are organized in the Dewey Decimal System, the
questions they pose, and the thematic connections they have to one another.
This journal is dedicated to the members of the American Library Association and the public libraries 
of America. Without them, we wouldn’t have Index and Order.
Color Key
001-099 Generalities
How do we organize information?
100-199 Philosophy & Psychology 
Who am I? How do I understand myself?
200-299 Religion
How did we get here?
300-399 Social Science
Who are the people around me?
400-499 Language
How can I communicate with the 
people around me?
500-599 Natural Science
How do I explain the world around me?
600-699 Applied Science
How do I control the world around me?
700-799 Arts & Recreations
How do I enjoy my free time?
800-899 Literature
What are the stories of our lives?
900-999 Geography & History
What was the world like before us, and 
what is it like now?
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et al.: Dedication
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Dedication

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 18 
Spring 5-1-2020 
The Shell 
Megha Jain 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Jain, Megha (2020) "The Shell," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 18. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/18 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
On a Summer’s Day                                   Shiann Everett
 
Sun-kissed like a summer’s day, 
the hot air blows against my skin, 
sweat drops line down my nose 
in a perfect formation. 
   
The ocean sounds bring in waves, 
bursts of true bliss and agony 
crashing through my blood and veins 
as I take it all in.
    
Creating a false reality, 
to make sense of what I see 
wanting the images in my head
to be the life I long for. 
     
To be as warm as the sand I lay upon, 
as calm as the sound of tides rushing in. 
To breathe without the shake, 
to feel without the pain.
The Shell                                                           Megha Jain
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Jain: The Shell
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The Shell

Kawaoka, Jillmarie

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 42 Number 2 Article 19 
Spring 5-1-2020 
The Long Way Home 
Jillmarie Kawaoka 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Kawaoka, Jillmarie (2020) "The Long Way Home," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 42 : No. 2 , Article 19. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol42/iss2/19 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
The Long Way Home                          Jillmarie Kawaoka
Today I took the long way. 
I had a long talk with the trees.
I released some long-held disease that had become
part of my cellular being
to create space,
to welcome fragmented parts of my soul back to my body.
Finding and recreating wholeness, 
the embodiment of the light and divinity that is my birthright,
my true essence,
my true nature, 
so that I may live out my life
at home in my own skin.
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Kawaoka: The Long Way Home
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