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FICTION + MUSIC

ROOM EIGHTEEN

THE MIXTAPE

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PAGE 21 - THE MUSIC

DEPARTURE byXFCTRGATSBY byXFCTR

DEEZ by MARTY HEEMTIE BILL END byAKIL NADIR

KUNG FU byAKIL NADIRTEACHER DONT TEACH ME NO NONSENSE byAKIL NADIR

PARACHUTE by DARIAN JONES

DAUGHTER by POETIC HYSTLETS GET IT THEN by M.A.B.ZNEVER FORGET ME by M.A.B.Z.

WATCH ME by SmCITY feat TREY DUPREEALL MY FRIENDS by SmCITY

FLATOUT by KAY HEEM (INSTRUMENTAL)HEEM ONLY by KAY HEEM (INSTRUMENTAL)

WHATS GOING ON NOW? byTHE R-STREET COLLECTIVE

PAGE 3-20 - THE FICTION

3. TODAY SHE DROVE HIS CAR

by KYNDALL BROWN4. HUNGER by RASHAWNDA WILLIAMS

6. MS. ANNA by ISIS COOPER8. THE BOY WITH THE QUARTER by MADISON HARTKE WEBER

10. ONE GIRLS FORTUNE byLUCY FRESHOUR

11. SNOW (HEY OH) by IDIA LEIGH

13. THE BEST FRIEND byIMONIE KING14. I DONT SLEEP ANYMORE by MARCUS BROWN

16.MOLLY by NILE MYERS18. DEAR SON by BRIDGET DEASE

ROOM EIGHTEEN VOL VITHE MIXTAPE VOL.1

IM NOT A BUSINESSMAN, IM A BUSINESS,MAN - JAY Z 2

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KYNDALL BROWN

TODAY SHE DROVE HIS CAR

She followed her regular routine this morning. Except, on the way tothe grocery store, she decided to listen to an old mixtape from

college. To bring back the years in which she did not know him. Shes

always avoided confrontation; stepping out of her comfort zone would

be suicide. No matter how deep the words cut, or how many women

replaced her, or how tight his fist clenched - she remained silent. Shehad the six-figure husband. The tall dark and handsome husband. The

man of my dreams husband. She had her familys false humility.

She had their envy. To give up such a life, for happiness, would be

foolish. However, the next day she woke up on his side of the bed

with the music still on her mind.

Today she drove his car. Today she sat at his desk, and decided to

write him a letter. She felt exhilarated. He would be gone until late.

This was her chance to escape. She listed everything, in detail from

beginning to end, the reasons why marriage was a mistake, line after

line. No question was left unanswered, not one mistress wasforgotten. This letter would fight every battle she lost. It was a five-

page letter, for every year of their marriage. She lifted her head from

the page, any second thoughts were lost in the surrounding silence,

until the silence was broken. He was standing in the doorway.

What are you writing? He said.

3

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RASHAWNDA WILLIAMS

HUNGER

She will climb in bed and her heart will ache, a dull persistent pain.She will lay in the dark on an empty stomach. She will be

disappointed and stay up til the sun rises from her small rectangular

window. She will caress herself and sob for hours. No noise, just

tears. He had not called her as he promised he would the night

before. She will convince herself that something must havehappened.

She was fashioned in all black and was in mourning. Not because

someone had died, but because she couldnt shake the loss. He had

not called her back. He always called back, but for the past month

she received no calls. He had taken a trip to California to visit family.

He had promised to call every day. Six months had passed. At the

beginning he had called her religiously. He did not call at any

particular time, but always seemed to know when she was going to

bed. They were connected until recently. He did not return on the day

he said he would. She did not understand why. She only felt hisabsence.

She knew he had a family once before, another life before her, but

she did not want to accept it. She had to assume the routine of her

life, but she found that she couldnt, so she just waited. She seldom

left the house. She would eventually get out of bed, but not today.

The past week she had stayed in bed. She had heard that he was

coming back, but she knew he wasnt. She continued to wait.

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Broken memories flooded back into her mind. She bit her lip hard,

thinking of the time he said, One day we will get married, and grow

old together. They had stared at each other, and she had finally

responded, Dont be ridiculous, Nate. Im serious he had joked.

I know she had said halfheartedly.

She will sit in darkness, silently sobbing as she replays the Righteous

Brothers Unchained Melody. It is their song. The song will put her to

sleep. The lyrics of the song will chisel themselves into her mind,

imprinting themselves until she knows every word, until sheunderstands every word, and feels every feeling. Each time she

listens to the song, she will feel differently, sometimes joy, other

times melancholy. She will absorb every eight-count measure.

Ive hungered for your touch. ll be coming home wait for me. Wait

for me.

She once held faith in the lyrics. She will continue to cry, every night

until he comes home. He will come home, but when he does she will

have forgotten about him only holding on to the hunger. Now, as she

listens to the song, she knows the true meaning of hunger.

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ISIS COOPER

MS. ANNA

Whenever she walks away, the noise of her walking stick echoes inmy head. I see her, every morning, at the same time. She gets off at

Connecticut and 16th Street, the same place I wait for my bus. I

always greet her with a friendly hello, sometimes we exchange

small conversations while she waits for help to her building.

Connecticut Avenue is often bustling with buses and taxis, especiallyduring rush hour, so one of the traffic directors usually escorts her to

work from the bus stop. Her name is Ms. Anna. The first time we

talked, she asked what school I attended, and she was excited to

learn that I attended a performing arts school. I danced until I was

22, she said. I even performed in a number theatres. Young lady, I

absolutely love classical music... I wanted to ask why she stoppeddancing, but then again, the reason was clear. I wondered what

happened. She seemed so nice and full of joy, considering her

conditions.

The next couple of times I saw her, it was the same subtle hellountil I offered to walk her to her building. The street lights werent

working, and the traffic directors had their hands full. While walking

she asked what music I was listening to, I didnt think she could hear

it, Alicia Keys I said, Shes phenomenal, isnt she? She

responded, Shes one of the few singers of your generation that I

like. We both laughed, I didnt think a little old white lady would

know anything about Alicia Keys. Shes quite talented. Shes a

wonderful pianist and has a beautiful voice.

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I promised myself that I would never look at a senior citizen in the

same way. She offered to pay me for walking her, but I declined the

money, the conversation was enough.

I decided to create a mixtape for Ms. Anna, one that she would

enjoy. I put Alicia Keys on it, as well as Beethoven, Bach, Zumsteeg,

and even a little Adele. When I gave it to her the next day she

wouldnt stop thanking me, I didnt know you knew anything about

Bach and Zumsteeg. I guess we both surprised each other. Theres

only one issue... she said Why in heavens did you put it on a CD?They are for old people. We both laughed and I continued to walk

her to her building. Have good day, Ms. Anna I said, You too

Grandma. She called after me.

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MADISON HARTKE WEBER

THE BOY WITH THE QUARTER

He sits with his guitar and plows through his repertoire. A list of songsthat serve as his autobiography. Top 40 tracks, outlining the accident

he was in as a child; Beatles songs, representing the hope he found

through music and his own love ballads, tales of the girls in high

school who were always sympathetic, but never affectionate, toward

him. Passing pedestrians look, not at him, but at the wheelchair he is

sitting in. Women passing by give him the same sympathetic glance

as the girls in high school did. Sometimes a person will shake his

hand, calling him an inspiration. Not because of his music, but

because of the optimism he displays. After all, his music is all he has

left. Sometimes they drop money into the open guitar case on the

ground. Single dollar bills, the occasional cheapskate drops in a dime.Everyday the same group of boys passes through. Rowdy and

energetic, they stare, they point and fail to suppress their sneers and

laughter. The man plays a game with himself. He eyes the group,

silently guessing which boy will point first. He watches them, while

continuing to play and sing.

Today is the same. The boys pass and as he plays, he watches them.

They do not point. They stand at the curb waiting to cross, laughing

and joking with each other. One boy backs away from his friends

toward the man. He listens to him sing about a high school crush, who

he thought rejected him, because he couldnt play football. The boyapproaches him with his hand in his pocket, troubled by the memories

of being laughed at when he couldnt find a homecoming date.

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The man makes a silent bet that the boy is about to throw something

at him. The boy steps closer. He smiles and pulls something out of his

pocket. A quarter. The boys drops it into the case. The song is coming

to a close. He sings a final note and plays a final chord. He and the

boy share a grin. Then, as if nothing had happened, the boy rejoins hisfriends and crosses the street without looking back.

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LUCY FRESHOUR

ONE GIRLS FORTUNE

Jane waits for the bus under a red umbrella.She reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a tiny piece of

paper. Its a fortune from last nights Chinese takeout. It reads, Love

will lead the way. Jane scoffs under her breath.

She thinks about what a load of shit that is.

Which reminds her of Luke, who, she thinks, always smelled like a

load of shit. But this thought itself, is a load of shit. Luke always

smelled good. She still wears a t-shirt of his and refuses to wash it.

She loved the way he smelled.

Which reminds her of the perfume he bought her last Christmas.

She thinks about how he could never have afforded it.

Which reminds her of the summer they worked at an ice cream placetogether. She thinks about how stupid they were. How they thought

theyd be rich by the end of that summer. They were barely getting

minimum wage. But they didnt care.

Jane thinks about how he used to walk her home from work every

day. He used to sing her songs along the way.Which reminds her of the mixtape.

I hated that mixtape, she thinks to herself.

But she is only lying to herself, she loved that mixtape. Better

Together, I Want to Hold Your Hand, Love Song For No One. He knew

those were her favorites.

Jane feels that familiar lump in her throat. That lump that she hates.Tears well up in her eyes. She tilts her head back and sighs.

Jane waits for the bus under a red umbrella.10

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IDIA LEIGH

SNOW (HEY OH)

There is a song on the radio, and between its words and its rapidchord progression lies all the enthusiasm of the former decade. Shes

never heard anything quite like it. But thats what she wakes up to,

something different than the songs she would typically listen to; those

songs with the lyrics that signal the cogs in her head to turn and the

memories to flow into her tears. She gets up out of bed and goesstraight to the mirror, not quite sure if its her thats awake. In her

reflection she sees her eyes are clear, not as muddled as they have

been. Still, she recognizes herself in the mirror. As the song continues

to play, she goes to the computer and googles the lyrics, the

fragmented words that cling to her memory. Come to decide that the

things that I tried were in my life just to get high on. She finds the fulllyrics and name of the band. And with that she finds even more

melodies and words and she takes the time listening to each one,

even before her shower, compiling them all into a list, downloading

them onto a CD.

You sit at the shop, sipping on a black coffee. She isnt here yet. Youfeel strange thinking that. You feel strange even noticing her absence

when you cant even picture her face. You know what she looks like,

but she always seems kind of faded, looking like everyone else, yet

different. But there you are, waiting for her. Waiting for a girl you cant

remember but cant seem to forget, and you cant help but wonder

why. You begin to make excuses for her, as if its your duty, reasons

for her being late. Oddly enough, you come up with nothing. Youve

never thought of what she does before she arrives.

Now you remember the strange yet beautiful smile that appears every

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Now you remember, the strange yet beautiful smile that appears every

time she sees you.

She gets ready for the day, replaying that first song over and over

again through each of her daily routines. She leaves the house and

rushes back in to grab everything she needs before leaving again. So

she runs down to the coffee shop where she sees him every morning

and her smile is different from most days. She hands him a disc from

her bag and with that she says: This is for youId like you to meet

me. She leaves the shop without buying anything, the sun catching

her eyes in a way it never had before.

On the disc you find songs you are familiar with, but that youve never

really heard, and there she is, nestled within it all. You guess you

should have noticed the original sorrow that she had held in her eyes,

but you didnt and the thought leaves you feeling ashamed. It is onlythen that you realize all those previous smiles were something that

you had mistaken for joy. But when she had walked in that morning

she seemed to glow from deep within herself. There was something so

sweet about the simplicity of her disposition. Of her face. Of her eyes.

Just looking at her made you want to smile, and so you did. And she

had smiled back. You cant help imagining what she had donedifferently today. The first thing that pops into your head is that she

had danced. She had danced out of bed, danced out of her clothes,

danced in the shower. You imagine her under the showerhead, as

water droplets find themselves drawn into her mouth. She had danced

when she looked in the mirror and seen her eyes were suddenly clear.And she had danced when she recognized herself. And now, when you

hold the CD case in your hands, you realize the lies in what she said.

This wasnt for you.

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IMONIE KING

THE BEST FRIEND

He sets the pink CD case down. On the outside, in black sharpie andlarge print letters, it reads: PLAY WHEN I LEAVE. She bites at the skin

on her peeling pink lip. Her worn and tired eyes look over him. He

tries to kiss her, and grabs at her waist. Playfully, she pushes him

back and away from her. A sharp pain drives at his emotions. He

knows that to her he is the best friend she never had. Fiddling withher necklace, shes nervous. Shes cried tears, many nights he knows

all too well, being that shoulder she needed to lean on. Shes loved

and shes lost. Like all the other times, hell comfort her. Smooth her

hair back and tell her the same thing. And shell listen, nodding her

head, sobbing into her short while crying out for all the things shes

never had. This time it is different though. Hell grow tired ofreassembling her heart, the shattered pieces cutting his jagged fingers

as he tells her to sit and stay calm; to reassure her he wont hurt her

like the others. As he lays down next to her, her faint breaths and

slow heartbeats will prove too much to handle. Hell finally grow

frustrated and play the CD for her. And hell sing along with track oneas she drifts off into a sleep where shell wake up and remember

nothing.

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MARCUS BROWN

I DONT SLEEP ANYMORE

He burns CDs, one after another, to his computer. It has to be perfect.The perfect mixtape for the perfect girl, he thinks. He goes through

the track listings of each album, picking one song out of every twenty.

He ignores the hand cramps and pushes everything else to the back of

his mind. Except her face. He keeps her face with him, though he

sometimes forgets her name. He does not think about the rapidly

approaching morning that would bring with it another agonizing day

of school. Another day to be spent fixated on the back of her head,

from where he would paint pictures of her face from memory alone as

the teacher etches intricate equations on the board. Another day filled

with longing that maybe, just maybe, he will receive more than a

cursory glance, a look which is barely enough to sustain him for the

day. He prefers the nights because he can imagine conversations they

would never have, secrets they would never share, dates they would

never go on, and other things best left to the imagination. The hourswere hard on him because all day he would have to watch her,

knowing that he was just one of many shifting faces in the hallway. It

was a reality that felt both unreal and unbearable. What drove him to

make the mixtape was the emptiness. It was the profound sense of

loss. The feeling that no matter what happened, until he saw her face,his days would still run together in a cohesive blur of mundane rituals.

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15

It was not her smile he yearned for but the perplexed furrow of her

eyebrows in A.P English, or the sheepish grin she wore when she was

talking but not really paying attention to the conversation. He wanted

to give her something she would appreciate, just as much he

appreciated her. So this is was how he had recently come to spend his

nights, eyes glazed over the computer screen, one hand dragging the

mouse, the other flipping through piles of CDs.

Then there it is, a bright red Facebook notification, and though they

have not shared many words before, she was now requesting that hebe her friend in a virtual world.

With a whispered yes and a click of the mouse, he is introduced to

her parents and her sister, her best friend and her Christmas break.

He takes a front row seat as she fools around with her dog, and takes

the chair beside hers at the dining table as she carves at the turkey.

Not before long he steps into the summer vaction she spent in

Cancoon last year. He spends some time there. In one photo she

poses in a turquoise bikini, puckered lips, blowing him a kiss; the pair

of goggles on the top of her head pulls her wet hair from her face.

He lingers on the birthmark she has on her inner thigh and feels the

Cancoon heat climb down his back.

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NILE MYERS

MOLLY

You and Molly are sitting on the couch. You try to hold her close andtell her that you love her but she pushes you away. She calls you a

prick and asks to see your phone. You laugh and pick up your phone

and just stare at her. You suggest you both get some fresh air and

pick up some food. You head to Jerry liquors across the street from

the pizzeria to pick up a bottle of pinot grigio. As you enter the storeyou remember that Molly hates it when you buy her expensive things

to try and impress her. So instead, you buy a ten dollar bottle of

wine; that sutter house bull shit. Molly gives you a look.You ignore it

and pay the cashier. Outside, you pull your last cigarette out of the

carton and the empty box to the sidewalk. You take your lighter out

and try to light up but the lighter is out of fluid. You pat your pockets

down and find a pack of matches. With your cigarette finally lit, your

mind is at ease for the time being. You take Molly's hand and she

pulls it away from you. She hates it when you smoke around her.

You happen to be next to a flower stall on the corner of 16th and

Lenox, and debate whether or not to grab a bouquet of flowers.Molly's senses your hesitation and appears flattered, so you smile at

her as you pull a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill from your wallet. You

cant help but examine the Asian vendors busty chest and

compliment her on her dress, which is, in fact, ugly. She looks away

from you as she takes the money. Molly says shes heading home

and walks away. You wait for your change before you hurry after her,

calling her baby and honey as you offer up the flowers. She is giving

you the silent treatment so you leave her and decide to head to the

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you the silent treatment so you leave her and decide to head to the

pizzeria. You put your cigarette out. Inside you find Bobby, Tony,

Perrelli and Joey. They are by the register, discussing lottery

numbers. You say hi to them and order a medium spaghetti and two

calzones. As you wait for the food, Bobby and the others ask youabout Molly. You tell them that she is fine, only to realize, moments

later, that they are whispering about her. You ignore them as you

wait for your food and leave once it is handed over. You walk out the

door and across the street to your apartment. You check your

mailbox and find nothing but bills. You shove them back in and run

up the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. You almost drop thebottle of wine as you trip on the last flight of stairs to your room.

You pick yourself up and open the door to your apartment. You lay

the food, wine and flowers on the kitchen counter. You notice Molly

isnt home yet, so you decide to take a shower. You put on your

favorite record, Beach Samba by Astrud Gilberto. You hop in theshower and wash your impurities away. You dry off and enter

bedroom to find a note on your bed. It begins with: Youre not the

same anymore, and you sit down on your bed as you try to figure

out what that, and all the other sentences, means.

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He took it out and smiled. He showed it to his mother and she

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managed a smile.

He held the tape firmly in his hand, and not once neglected it.

After his mothers funeral service, a group of people who called

themselves Sorry gathered by an ailing rose bush at the side of the

church and offered their many unmindful condolences. They were

sorry because they had been just as unappreciative of her gift as he

had been. The gift of recognizing good music.

He sat in the pews of the empty church. This was the first time

he had allowed himself to be alone. He finally felt worthy of listening

to the tape. He placed the cassette into the recorder he brought along

with him, anxious about what he might hear. At the start of the tape

he heard the beautiful stylings of Beethoven, immersed with the likes

of Stevie Wonder. Towards the middle of the tape, he could hear the

Beatles Here Comes the Sun spliced with a piano riff inWatermelon Man by Herbie Hancock. He couldnt help but smile

because he knew his mother didnt really care what the music was,

just as long as there was music to hear. As the tape neared its end he

succumbed to tears once again. He began hearing his own upbeat

melodies, some of them on piano, others on the electric guitar. Hethought this was an odd choice to place beside the calm music that

the tape had began with and, as he sat there, listening and

reminiscing, another strange occurrence - his mothers voice, as

sweet and tender as hed remembered. They sang the final words on

the tape. He listened , ignoring the muffled sounds of people calling

him from outside. His mothers lyrics ringing out: There was a time,

where we knew one another, loved one another, and cherished one

another. And with time, this disappeared. What can I do to reignite

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another. And with time, this disappeared. What can I do to reignite

that spark?

The lines were continuously sung before the tape abruptly

ended, but still he sat in the back at the very edge of the last pew,

hearing his mothers words drift away again.

20

ENJOYED THE STORIES?

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NOW DOWNLOAD THE MUSIC!

THE ROOM EIGHTEEN MIXTAPE IS AVAILABLE ONLINE FOR

DOWNLOAD via BANDCAMP @ room18.bandcamp.com

OR SCAN FOR IMMEDIATE ACCESS:

LINK:

http://room18.bandcamp.com/album/the-room-eighteen-mixtape-vol-1

THE MUSIC

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1. DEPARTURE byXFCTR

2. GATSBY byXFCTR

3. DEEZ by MARTY HEEM

4. TIE BILL END byAKIL NADIR

5. KUNG FU byAKIL NADIR

6. TEACHER DONT TEACH ME NO NONSENSE byAKIL NADIR

7. PARACHUTE by DARIAN JONES

8. DAUGHTER by POETIC HYST

9. LETS GET IT THEN by M.A.B.Z10. NEVER FORGET ME by M.A.B.Z.

11. WATCH ME by SmCITY feat TREY DUPREE

12. ALL MY FRIENDS by SmCITY

13. FLATOUT by KAY HEEM (INSTRUMENTAL)

14. HEEM ONLY by KAY HEEM (INSTRUMENTAL)15. WHATS GOING ON NOW? by THE R-STREET COLLECTIVE

(LIVE AT THE KENNEDY CENTER - DIRECTED BY MARK A. WILLIAMS)

ALL TRACKS PERFORMED BY STUDENTS &ALUMNI OF

THE LITERARY MEDIA & COMMUNICATIONS DEPARTMENT (THE LMC)

@ DUKE ELLINGTON SCHOOL OF THE ARTS

EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS: KOYE OYEDEJI&KAY HEEM

FOR LITERARY MEDIA & COMMUNICATIONS (THE LMC)

@ DUKE ELLINGTON SCHOOL OF THE ARTS

ALL TRACKS COPYRIGHT OF THE PERFORMERS

CONCEPT BY MR O.&THE LMC CLASS OF 2013

XFCTRPoetic Hyst

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SmCity

smcitymusic.comTwitter.com/smcitymusicYouTube.com/smcitymusic

Akil Nadir

akilnadir.comTwitter: @akilnadir

CTwitter: @XFCTR_1th

Marty HeemTwitter: @MARTYfucknHEEM

Kay HeemTwitter:

@SpaceTrap_Mafia

M.A.B.Z.Twitter: @IAmMABhttpp://reverbnation.com/dmvmab

Darian Jones

The R Street Collective

http://smcitymusic.com/http://smcitymusic.com/http://smcitymusic.com/http://smcitymusic.com/http://smcitymusic.com/http://smcitymusic.com/

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http://issuu.com/literarymediacommunicationshttp://issuu.com/literarymediacommunicationshttp://issuu.com/literarymediacommunicationshttp://issuu.com/literarymediacommunicationshttp://issuu.com/literarymediacommunications