Loading...
Quetzal 2020 | University of Waterloo’s Online Arts Magazine2020-07-15T15:02:06-04:00

Photography

Load More Posts

Poetry & Prose

Honour

Honour by Noel Garcia They stained the streets with their blood To once again fill the sky with laughter They walked where there brothers’ fell To once again see their mothers For in those fields where they laid, Their heart’s songs and silent weeps, Became the [...]

“Plucked” by Aniqah Beharry

Plucked by Aniqah Beharry “Is it really that bad?” Is it? Media doesn’t hesitate to portray the violent plucking of petals from flowers,  The poor unsuspecting flowers, no matter their brightness or scents, Any species can be picked from the stems from which they were so once [...]

A Dark Sea by Anonymous

A Dark Sea By Anonymous There in your skies lies the flickering lights Of unknown kingdoms far beyond your reach, And as winds lightly pull on soft clouds in the late evening These starry skies are revealed along with their stories. The moon caresses the trees with [...]

Second-hand Smoke by Ritwik Dhandhi

second hand smoke Ritwik Dhandhi   I spent my nights looking at dreams made out of plastic And couldn’t help but watch them fall apart I spend my days trying for honest but being sarcastic And took my demons and made them into art   Unwise Angels, Mistaken Letting the [...]

Load More Posts

Visual Arts

Load More Posts

Short Stories

“Plucked” by Aniqah Beharry

Plucked by Aniqah Beharry “Is it really that bad?” Is it? Media doesn’t hesitate to portray the violent plucking of petals from flowers,  The poor unsuspecting flowers, no matter their brightness or scents, Any species can be picked from the stems from which they were so once comfortably, naïvely swinging in the breeze. Everyone loves flowers, different kinds for different reasons,  Some feel entitled to flowers but don’t understand that these flowers grew on their own and aren’t theirs to take.  From a little girl to years later, when I’m now a university student, they all still argue.  I’ve grown up in a society that blames flowers for being picked because they’re too pretty, because they were in a place they shouldn’t have been, because they were too bright, because they did this and that and this and that and this and that.  A lot of people ridicule and hold the flower culpable for what happens to them.  But I’d never heard this one before, “Is it really that bad?” Is it really that bad?  Is it really that bad? Is it really that bad? Is it? Is it bad? Is it fair? Is it unfair? When [...]

“The Lupercal Lake” by Justin Wayne Blake

The Lupercal Lake Justin Wayne Blake Published Spring 2020 ` A sour, irritating stench had wafted through the air and troubled the boy's nose. He reached an arm up to scratch it, just as the beast leaped towards him. 1 "My father told me never to go into the forest," said Olivia as she let herself be dragged along. “He says that it's dangerous.” “Well, your father ain't here," said Elias, keeping a firm grasp on her wrist. "And there's nothing in those woods that I can't handle." As they hurried along, they crunched dry leaves underfoot and wiped the sweat from their brows. A slight breeze was blowing, which was cool enough for Elias, but not for Olivia, who found her patience waning. “Elias...Elias, stop!" she said, as she wrenched her arm from his grasp. “I can't walk anymore. I'm tired and my feet hurt. Let me rest for a while." Almost breathless, Elias turned and gesticulated towards the rough path they were following. "Resting is what I'm trying to do. The lake I was telling you about is just over yonder. We can rest there." Olivia smiled as she remembered when Elias first told [...]

It Started with a Whisper

It Started with a Whisper by Edward Liu Why are you still alive?” I remained silent. “You didn’t jump that day. Why didn’t you jump?” “Because I was afraid of not dying,” I said. “You didn't choose a tall enough building.” “There's always a slim chance of survival. How would I jump again if I somehow survived with every bone in my body shattered? Repeating the task would be near impossible,” I said, but that wasn't all there was to it. Thinking about suicide is simple. Initiating the act was a whole other story. At least for me. Why was I still alive? I wondered that myself. It was almost a year since the lowest point of my life. What had I accomplished since then? ■ ■ ■ It started with a whisper almost four years ago, a small voice in the back of my head. “This is bad,” it said softly as I stared at my score on the math test I had just been handed. “I’ll make up for it,” I said. Mathematics was my best subject growing up. I liked math. It was the only thing which I felt like I excelled in. My [...]

My Hands

My Hands by Emerald Naylor He could hear the murmur of voices on the other side of the wall. There must have been hundreds- no thousands- of people waiting for him. He rolled his shoulders back and tried not to think of the crowd. Priscilla was still standing in the doorway behind him. She glared at his back. “I can’t believe you- doing this again.” Her voice was steady, but he could tell she was trying hard not to shout. He turned around to face her. “I’ve told you, I have to do this. This is who I am; I’m their hero.” He started to turn back towards the arena when something in the shadows caught his eye. “For gods sake! Stop being the damn hero!” She was yelling now. She sounded exasperated. He took a step towards the shadows. “You don’t have to be their hero. Come home with me; be mine. Be my hero,” She whimpered. “Priscilla, shush.” He narrowed his eyes. There was something there, right in front of him. “Lionel,” He stepped closer. He could make out the outline of the figure through the darkness. There was something in its hands. The shadowy figure [...]

“The Time Twister” by Suhana Kumar

The Time Twister Suhana Kumar Published Spring 2020 ` Sarajevo, 1914 The air was smokey, clusters of particles floating through as if time had stopped. Maybe, in a way, time did stop, and it was as if the streets of Sarajevo knew something was going to happen. Or, as they say, the calm before the storm. He woke up at precisely 6:30, and dragged himself out of bed to dress. He had to look his best, today was the big day. He grabbed the letters that piled on the broken side-table and shoved them into his coat pocket, and finally, retrieved a gun from his closet and putting it in his inside coat pocket. The boy looked into the dirty mirror at his shorn hair as he covered his demons with a cap. What did I get myself into? But you promised me. So why does it feel wrong? His long, unkempt bangs fluttered in his face as he tugged on his cap, stepping out into the streets. He doesn’t know why he was feeling so self-conscious, living in Sarajevo meant that you were a nobody. A nobody… It took him 15 minutes to reach [...]

Confessions of A Creative Woman

Confessions of a Creative Woman by Tasnia Nasar It’s the top skill discussed in an interview, the ability most highlighted in my resume, and the characteristic I’m most known for by my friends and family. I laugh at my own Instagram captions and marvel at how witty my tweets are. I take an extra 20 minutes to make my meals look presentable only to eat it a few seconds later. The stationary section at Chapters is like my Disneyland and overpriced lattes are my chardonnay. If I just told your life story, you my friend, are creative. We’re often misunderstood. We’re often ‘self-employed’. But we’re also a lot of other things. So it’s time I sat down and confessed why we are– the way we are. Our life is an organized chaos I have a laptop case in my purse without a laptop in it. I have a wallet too, but my debit and credit cards are usually in the side pockets. When I’m hungry, I indulge in the smell of gum wrappers and dig through to find a few tangerines…at least that’s what they used to be.  Give me a ring while my phone is in [...]

Load More Posts
Go to Top