Editor’s Note | Issue 4

For most of the world, life came to a screeching halt in March 2020.  The original wave of the coronavirus swept across the world, ravaging peoples’ daily lives, ripping apart the norms they had taken for granted, and exposing the fault lines in the various systems everyone knew existed, yet were content to ignore until they became the only things we could see.  Then there were other problems: new and more vicious variants arose, the idea of masks and vaccines became political lightning rods that ripped apart families and communities, and the death toll continued to rise the world over. 

Despite all of this, there remains hope that, perhaps, we can come together and push through to see the other side of this unprecedented event. Today, we find ourselves in October of 2021; almost two years of this pandemic have passed.  Life has started to find a new path with places across the globe re-opening, people starting to venture out once more and stumbling upon new paths towards a different future than the ones they had originally envisioned.  
With so many changes that have impacted so much of our lives and our society at large, there was an influx in the need for community and understanding while we sat isolated. Isolated in our homes.  Isolated at our jobs. Isolated in hospital rooms. Isolated in ourselves. This isolation caused us all to reach out to other people in varied ways: Zoom calls, social media, and the adoption of new hobbies, alongside more pursuits.  The one thing all of these pursuits have in common?  Words.

Words connect us–– be they written or spoken.  Words make up the stories we tell, the songs we sing, and the multitude of creative expressions we enjoy.  Words shelter us, unite us, divide us, inform us and comfort us. At a time when going outside to speak to a friend or neighbor or co-worker was all but eliminated, we found other ways to share our words with each other.  And with our words, we shared struggles and laughter and community and hope.  The way these words found us perhaps came across the normal paths: writing poems and short stories or seeking out bookshops that would ship us vast collections of books to throw ourselves in; or perhaps they found new avenues we had never considered like diving into other peoples’ worlds by visiting fanfiction sites–– and maybe even finally taking that plunge into writing some, or finding hilarious videos that changed your For You page algorithm forever on an app everyone originally scoffed at.  

Far too much has happened in these almost two years.  Far too much that we don’t want to talk about and far too much that we really should.  One thing that has come out of this moment in time is that we as humans have found new ways to share in our connections–– to share our words and our stories.  To share with one another that even while we spent almost two years in isolation, when we really looked, we were able to see that we were never truly alone.  

We humbly welcome you to Issue 4.  An issue that talks about living with chronic pain, as in Ashes of a Suicide; living with a mental illness that impacts your day-to-day life in Music; being surrounded by others and yet feeling separate in the short story Dark Horse; and of course, An Aurora in My Heart which makes the case that in spite of everything against you, there is still hope.

Please enjoy Issue 4.  Wishing you all the best.

Sincerely,

Jacquelyn Stafford

Submissions Manager