STRAPPED zine Volume I Issue IV - FEAR

8/13/2019 STRAPPED zine Volume I Issue IV - FEAR

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STRAPPMINI ZINE

Fear Volume 1 Issue iv

Moon Child acrylic and marker

on wood by Jim Warf www.jimordie.com


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yj

Are you STRAPPED?

Lets face it...youre STRAPPED.Strapped for time, strapped formoney...either youre strapped,youre loaded, or youre lying.

This mini zine was created toencourage those who put off theircreativity (I dont have time!) to

come together and create anyways.To encourage each other and

become part of a community ofother artists, writers, and everyday

people who dont even considerthemselves creative.

Everyone has something interestingto share...even you...ESPECIALLYyou...were all strapped, so letsstart creating and sharing and be

strapped together!

(duct tape is optional)

This Issue: Fear Fear...the most beautiful

feeling. When else do you feelso awake, so alive? Do scarymovies give you nightmares?Do arachnids send you away

screaming in terror?

Or is it something morepersonal that makes the

fear settle deep within yourbones? A fear of rejection?

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Dori Cameron@floggingdori

Scribd.com/STRAPPEDzine

[email protected]

/STRAPPEDzine

Submissions of art, photography, poetry, shortstories, prose, paintings, photography, and sketches

are entirely welcome and encouraged,wherever you are in the world!

Keep writing new material and stay posted online forupcoming themes, writers block suggestions,

and more!

Inside this issue ofSTRAPPED, you will fnd

writers and artists explor-ing this very topic, leavingus with the question...how

much power and control doour fears have over us?

Laughing in the Face of Dangerby Stormy Skies

F ear.I ts the only thing that connects each andevery one of us. Anyone can say they fearnothing, that there is nothing to fear but fearitself, but thats a lie.H

ow do you ind fear, summon it, how do youknow what it looks like?H ow the eyes suddenly glaze over with reali-zation that everything is not how it should be,how the muscle ibers freeze in place and theblood drains, leaving the face colorless. Is thatwhat fear is?I am in the business of fear.I need to understand the way it looks, smells,tastes, and most of all...how to extract thatbeautiful and rare experience in anotherperson.

A nd it is beautiful. When that one specialindividual comes along and exposes theirdeepest fears for you to see in tiny slices ofemotion across their face, it is sweet perfec -tion. And I am the cause.

Piss watercolor by Iris Eaton T hat kind of power to expose the fear of others is in itself, frightening.I t takes patience and practice to master, and only a few can execute it properly. To beone of those people, you must have a real fear, and understand it, understand howit works and why its there. Most try to control it and bury it deep down, but othersembrace it.T he only thing a person like me fears, a person who lives to bring fear out in others,is that very lack of fear; the lack of ability to show that emotion.D esensitization.T he remedy to this, to be truly afraid, a certain amount of anticipation must bemixed with a great deal of uncertainty. This is what makes us truly afraid.And this is what we crave, to be afraid, to open your eyes and see the very thing thathaunts you as you dream and the very thing that clouds your mind while you areawake.T his is what we need to be human. A critical part of the human condition; a cog inthe machine of survival.E

mbrace fear, for it is a beautiful thing, and it will keep you alive. Never turn yourback on fear or try to ignore it, for it will ind you at your weakest moment, and noone will be able to save you, not even yourself.S tay scared.


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Hospital oil on wood

Bone Orchar

by AndrewKanevsky

acrylic on wood by

www.AndrewKanevsky.com

www.electric

(Untitled) by J.T. Acosta

L eave me alone! I was r nning for what felt like hours through the wilder ess, and it was obvious that the campingt ip was done. I had no idea where I was, but I reallydidnt give t o shits whether I was r nning towardsthe main road or just in circles; I just wanted to getaway om all the violence. It was too dark for meto see but someone, or something, killed my t o iends; I ran away as soon as I knew I was the onlyone le . Ever hing around me looked the same, soany sense of direction was impossible. The cold airbur t my throat, my clothes were covered in dir andblood, my leg muscles ached, and my mouth was dr .I stopped bet een a large row of t ees, like it mat -teredany here I went looked the f cking same.

T he night was still, the gentle wind and the

r stling leaves were the only soundsthat lled the chilled air. I t ied to stayquiet, but all the r nning forced me tocatch my breath, making me breathelouder than I wanted. I looked aroundand listened closely to know if I was stillbeing followed.

S ilence. W as it that easy? Am I really in the

clear om my stalker? Cr nch, cr nch,snap, cr nch, snap. I didnt fool myself,I knew it wasit, whatever it is. The echoof the breaking t igs and cracklingleaves sur ounded me and I was unsureof where it was coming om. The stench

of decaying foliage reminded me whereI was, almost mocking me by saying,Youll never enjoy the smell of Fall for whats le of your life, and thats thelastthing I need right now.

Where do I r n? At this point, I was unsure whether I was violently shiveringbecause of the 40 deg ee weather or be-cause I was so scared. I wanted to close my eyes in hopes that this was all justa bad dream, but I knew if I did that I wouldnt want to open them again outof the fear of seeing my boogey an.

S nap, cr nch, cr nch, cr nch. I knew where it was coming om, I heard it with my le ear and I quickly t r ed facing where I heard the breaking of the

fallen limbs that once belonged to a t ee.Before me stood it. The monst ous sil -

houe e glared at me om a distance to where Icouldnt see its face, but I knew it was ge ing a good look at me.

Please! I dont know who you are! Let me go, I wont tell anyone about thisIll tell them we got into a car accident! Please! Please!Ever word I spewed was lled with tears, a

t embling voice, and deep breaths. It just stoodthere. The f ll moon kept the environment litand made me feel like I was in the middle ofa spotlight; for a split second I thought of theirony. It just kept staring, that is until it threwsomething at me and walked away. The thingit threw bounced and rolled, r stling throughthe dir and leaves until it stopped bet een my feet. It was in a plastic bag, and sounded as if it

contained water with whatever was in it. I dontknow what was in the bag, but it got the thingaway om me.

M y shaking hands crept towards the bagas I bent down to one knee. The steam om my breath shot out of my mouth at a steady pace due to my pantingI was now more a aid of what was in the bag than what chasing me. I began to peel back the plastic to uncover the item when I heard it ag

cr nch, cr nch, snap, snap, cr nch, cr nch. I looked up, it was back. It wanted to waopen the bag and I knew it wouldnt leave until I did. Snap, cr nch, cr nch. I heard me, it wasnt alone. Snap, cr nch, cr nchthere was a third member of the g oup.snap, cr nch, cr nch. There was a four h silhoue e that wanted to watch me open th was at this point that om the ont, back, le , and to the right stood a shadowy g re which were watching me, waiting. I knew there was no escape at this point.

T ears began to slowly st eam down my face as I sucked in the air that le my lungever sob. My hands slowly moved towards the bag to unveil whatever they so de wanted me to see. I just wanted to get it over with. The bag crackled and r stled inas I unwrapped the moist, cold plastic. The only light around me was om the glow moon, but it was enough to see what was inside.


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Fear acrylic by Scott Sha

I want to squeeze the life outof herfrom the neck until it all goescold.

Its the only way to know if shell still be pretty without asoul.But they have laws againstthat.In the name of science isnt allits made out to be.They dont let you experimenton humansthe way you could a pig.Instead all I can do isdrive her crazy enoughthat it isnt worth itanymoreand leave a well-tied noosein the closet.Its important she doesnt doanything stupidlike waltz in front of a busor dive off a building.Itd be worthless if she ruined

her face.So tonightwhen I bring another girlhomefrom the barit wont matter when she getsred and nasty.Itll be progress.

All her tearsandhow could youwont touch mebecause now Ive got a reason.They wont mean a thing.

A Reasonby Troy Turner by Beth Mesmer

Different Fish oil on canvas by Jim Warf www.jimordie.com

Trauma vs. FearI was a mere lass o 2 1/2 at the time, playing inmy turtle shaped sandbox underneath the giantAvocado tree in our backyard. I was busy as

work, constructing a mighty sand ort....when Inotice a sound. A hissing sound almost. I lookedup rom my handy work to discover a Dinosaurperched atop my ort. All that my Osh KoshBgosh clad sel could do was scream bloodymurder and hope my Mother would rush to myrescue. She tore through the backdoor headingin my direction. She said hersel that she oundme petried, ace to ace with a giant lizard.

And, yesshe said the creature was oneo the biggest shed ever seen...especiallyin the backyard, in a housing track in theburbs. She promptly hucked it over theence, thus making it our neighbors prob-lem. Supposedly, I caught my breath a bitlater. But, damned i that Prehistoric son-o -a-bitch wasnt back the next day, justkicking it on the ence as i the con ronta-tion had never occurred.

Age 11. A Girl Scout Campout...in thebackyard o a nearby church. I had thebright idea to ace my ear o lizards hereand now. Its time. I was assaulted as atoddler and it was time to bury the hatchet.Te nasty things were all over the placeand I thought there was no better time.Oddly enough, one stalked me. Again. Ipivoted my oot, snatched it off its rockand cupped it rmly in my hands. HIS ISGOOD. S EP ONE COMPLE E. I exhale. I tell mysel , Its OK, Beth. Youve caught it,now con ront it. I eel the little bugger moving about inside my cupped hands. I exhaleagain, unclench my hands, slowly unhinge my ngers and SURPRISE!!! Just a greyish/green opping severed tail. Well, played Dragon. Well played.

Five years ago, my husband and I were lounging on the couch together playing StreetFighter. Out o the corner o my eye, I see our cat Zelda chase something greyish in mygeneral direction. She stops dead at my eet and is pummeling and pawing the area. I as-sume its a mouse, pause the game, and give it a gander. I notice nothing. Out o curiosity,I shake my eet and pat the back o my thighs and legs. Low and behold, on the back omy thigh, I elt something squish beneath my hand.

Well, Sir. I dropped trousers right then and there and hopped up in the lazy boy. Myhusband picked up my pants and started to shake them. Nothing. I insisted, Im notcompletely insane! and I elt something IN my pants! I demanded he shake them again,damn it! He did. And with the last mighty shake o those trousers out ew a baby lizard.It landed on the oor between him and the cat. I scream, Are you F**KING KIDDINGME?! In hysterics, he screams back, Bwaaa!! What are the odds?! So, I being the levelheaded woman that I am, standing on a chair tr ying to pull my shirt down over my bareass, demanded he kill it. He asks me, Are you serious?! My only retort was, Do youthink Im F**KING JOKING YOU?! KIIIILLLLL IIIII ! Needless to say, the cat decid-ed to be a cat and I never saw said prehistoric pervert again.

My ear. Being perpetually stalked by lizards, all breeds and sizes, or the whole o myli e. Mini -Rexs they are. Have I known GREA ER ear? Yes. Have unexplained orcestried to harm me and mine or absolutely no apparent reason? Yes. Have I come close tolosing that which is most dear to me in this Universe? Yes. Greater ears, those are. But,this ear is constant and lingering. Always present. Very real.


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Mirror Mirror

The Messenger

acrylic mixed media by

India ink by Jim

Scott Shakespeare>

www.jimordie

Ask these guys ANY [email protected]

The Pretenderby Caitlin Kazepis

T he mountain was preparing for slumber. The t inkling sunshine opalescence and long shad -ows of the day were melting away, swi ly hardening the so snow into painf l cr stals. As if thelight itself was the only t e life of the mountain. There was an elect i cation of the mountain byday, then it succumbed to g eat fatig e: dying with the dusk, recharging by night. As if the lifethat sur ounded it was animat onic and unfeelingly shut o by the darkness, like the ipping ofa light-switch or like a child casting o a no-longer-loved toy.The wired veins that created the mountains beating, rhy hmic exoskeleton of a cardiovascularsystem car ied not only ox gen and blood, but hidden in the mechanics, an organic malice mas-querading as help. A venomous cancer encompassed within the sleek, shiny unifor of the Pat olthat o ered a war suppor to the downhill- owing day ime throngs. Their metallic inst mentscar ed pa er s in the mountains face, only to be lled in with the fabricated ozen u ever night, like wrinkle- lling Botox om the skies.

T he unifor ed Pretender sidled through the sky on the clicking, steel routes and then, sliding om the t anspor , sliced through the iciest layers of the mountain, searching for victims. Like

u popsicles they would get separated om the ocks, ripped om their plasticized safet netsand in their panic, blindly t st the unifor that promised safet . As if the relief of the lost madethem believe that the unifor created a t anspar -ency of spirit, for in their faith how could safetever not be just that? It was for this he bristled with excitement, because it was the masquerade

he enjoyed, the power of authorit and the alibi ofanony it . For with the unifor came cont oland invisibilit within the ice.

T he newer the athlete, the higher their regard forthe ozen authorit , and the Pretender knew this.He relished in it. And the cold and the sleepinessof the mountain doubled the drop in the tempera -t re of his hands, whose iciness was matched onlyby his st eng h. His hands were the only things

his victims felt, as he smoothly invaded their war th like a cold har oon through a breaching sh. The cold was unnat ral to the victim. It had

seemed like another fabricationduring the light of day, like anotheranimat onic cont ol that wouldbecome less harsh, not more so, inthe night.

B ut the Pretender knew be er. Heknew that the mountain was no more alive than its steel beams. Andthe elect icit that made its faadeof life possible was cont olled by none other than the Pretender. He was a Frankenstein of the ozenlands, wreaking havoc within the wilder ess, a rapist feeding withinan unnat ral world.

by Jay Dot CA & Kevin McCoolLife Lessons with Jay and MIn the words of the great FDR, The onlything we have to fear is the most fearedfear of all fears, FEAR, no wait. Thats notright, is it? Nope, but the point is this, fearis something everyone feels, no matterhow strong, con dent, or prideful. Somewear it on their sleeve like a tabloid head-line while other keep it locked in depths

of their soul. No matter who you are, fearcan creep into us like an unstoppablerebel force. Some fear very simple issueslike spiders, ghosts, darkness, heights,etc. Other fears are much more complexsuch as failure, change, life and above all,death. They can be handled with diligenceand put in the past forever, while others

are not dealt with so well and can wreak havoc upon ones life.One of the most well-known is the fear of rejection. As guys, we deal with this allthe time. Some of us will go head on with anything in a skirt with a pulse, while

others cant muster the courage to say two words. As your fellow brethren, wewould like to o er our boys some amazing advice. This months column is forthe men, the ones that have to put in all the leg work, the ones that have to face


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Fearless watercolor by Thomas Bango

by Kaila Ann

by Miklo Sanchez

the fear of rejection just to say hi to apretty face, or at least thats what we thinkuntil the lights come on in the club, or evenworse, wake up the next morning next toSkeletor, a Pterodactyl or a bucket of yuck.

Here are some ways to help you conquerthat sexy lady youve been eyeing, buthave been too afraid to approach in fear ofhearing the words, have a boyfriend, notinterested, or any of the other numerousbrush o s women use to get rid of us. - Beyourself. Unless of course, your true selfreally sucks, then quickly become a better self and sell it like coke to KeithRichards.- Be confdent , to the point you dont feel the need to buy her a drink. Someother mouth breather in the bar will handle that for her. Be sure to pick theright moment to make your move. If her drink is full, proceed and always bailwhen her drink gets low.- Be willing , especially to get on the dance oor. Whether you dance likeyoure playing the bass or like Michael Jackson crazy on purple drank, it works.Find that girl on the dance oor with the skirt thats too short and getchyo freakon!- Be honest . Make sure you inform her of your past. Tell her all about your exsand the things youve done with them. It shows how outgoing you can be.- Be helpful . Women are self-conscious, so be sure to mention if her face lookslike it has a birthday cake baked onto it or her hair appears to have an endan - gered bird nesting in it. The ladies love that kind of stu.

- Be a gr eat listener . Make sure to let her know when the story she is telling

is way to long or just boring the crap out of you.- Be adventurous , let her know youre up for anything and that giving heranal is not out of the question.

- Be funny , always make fun of her friends so she will ditch those cock block -ers and give you a ride home instead.- Be open, share information about yourself. Personal interests are great top -ics to tell her about, like your favorite video games, comics, or your obsessionwith Dungeons & Dragons. You can also give her insight into your life by tellingher about your lengthy unemployment and how still live with your mother.- Be sen sitive , a nice guy, if you will. NO! Dont do that!! The asshole always goes home with the girl you want. They will always talk to the good guy andput you directly in the dreaded friend zone. You dont want this...its moredi cult to get out of than Chinese nger cu s!

Always remember, no matteryour expertise or skill set, youwill be rejected at least a time ortwo. Thats life and its not thatbad so keep your head up andmove forward. What have yougot to lose? Thats right, noth-ing! Now grab your nuts, getout there and put it to work!! Be

sure to send us an email and letus know how you did. If thingswent well, great! wed love tohear it. If not, well have noproblem letting you know whereyou went wrong.

Were glad to be of service sobe sure to email us your ques-tions, comments and rants to:[email protected] andwe will be sure to educate andentertain because thats how weroll!!!

Fallacy of SelIn submission like a lamb to the slaughterWaiting patiently under the butchersindolent bladeI return rom the depths againOnly to be born a heritor o emotions castout,and into a sightless paradoxWith just a taste o this devotionYour eeding doubts will dieLeaving truth to guide our restless mindsIve watched us grow, learning all we know Waiting or time to pass, a bounty o

deceitBuried In My Hope

On the Inside Always changing, never le ing thyself stay the same. Losing sleep over

thoughts of once ever losing you. A love so unimaginable, so inviting wont you let me in? A fear. A fear of never being able to succeed. A fe

dear. It always seems so hard to hold on, to keep going, to keep relivin moments that shall never fade. Flashbacks happening again and again

shivers r shing through my body, tong e too big to swallow, my soul so Panicking. For once to be saved, to not be just another broken stor , anotof paper in the wind. I just need you to help me. To love me. Comfor mehand darling, lets ex lore this awf l place we call home. Run wild with

let us forget ever hing. Lets never t r back.


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Trade acrylic by Scott Shak

The Encounterby Michael Adams

Born to Lose acrylic on wood

by David Richardson www.electrictomb.com

I awoke to the blaring sounds o an old eighties orgotten wonder, stealingme away rom my dreams o open elds and warmer memories and com-manding me to ace another day o mindless droning and cold eelings. Myroom was a dark mess with my only light being rom my alarm clock androm the small lights on the side o my computer that blinked once every sec-ond like a heartbeat, reassuring me that it still had li e in it. I rose slowly andmade my way to my desk and pressed the computers side to rouse it awake.Te screen burst into light and my eyes welled with tears as I took time toreadjust.

A s I waited or all the usual boot-up screens to pass, I could see somethingin the corner o my eye that caused the hairs on my arm to stand on endand or shivers to dance along my spine. Tere, in the corner or my room

or the entire world to see,was a small si lken structureglistening in the comput-ers bright glow, a structurethat would be nothing buta nuisance i it was not orthe creature that lived there.And there, as i my mindhad summoned itwasthe nightmare uel that I so

wished would go away.T he creature o too manyeyes and too many legsstarted making its way downa long thread and landed,slowly and expertly, on mydesk to stare at me. I knew itwas staring at me, I knew itwanted me to acknowledge

it, but I kept my eyes on myscreen whispering under mybreath or it to go away. And

then it spoke.I bring you no ill will. I exploded rom my chair andslammed my back against my bed-room door. As I looked the creaturecrept closer and closer to me, butremained stationed on the desk as iit had claimed it or its own.

I only wish to welcome you to myhome. I gulped.T he creature stared at me with itscold darkened eyes and wiggledits ront legs at me as i it was trying its best to reach out to grab me. As Iwatched it, I could have sworn it had gotten bigger during our conversation.But this is my home. My family has always lived here. We always have. I panicked. Te creature was getting bigger, and now it was talking aboutwe instead o I, which started a cold sweat to encompass my body. Ten, Ielt something on each o my shouldersthe sensation o tiny, pin needle-likepricks that went through my shirt and pierced my skin. I slowly turned tomy right and saw another o the creatures, this one almost triple the size othe one on my desk, biting me. I knew on the lef there was another and Iscreamed. Tis made the one on my desk chuckle.It is alrightthey are just welcoming you to our home, to our family. T

he creature on my desk seemed to smile as it was now big enough to reachout and hold my ace with its ront legs.Welcome. I t opened its mouth wide and a searing pain ran through me as myentire world went dark.R eality slapped me across the ace as the thunderous sound o my roommatesknocking assaulted my ears. I was alive and still sitting at my computer asI had be ore the vision. I slowly looked up at the corner and there was thestructure that has caused me such pain be ore, still glistening in the light o

the screen. I screamed and jumped up uriously opening the door and shov-ing my roommate into the room and slamming the door behind me.

I ts in the corner. Get it, get it now!


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Next Issue: Change Ahh...the dreaded C word.Just the sound of it makes

some people weary. Have youstayed the same since youwere young? Or have yourvalues shifted drastically?

How do you face changes?Are your relationships a revolv-

ing door? Are you constantlychanging jobs? Do you have a

story regarding a personaltransformation?

Or perhaps someone haschanged on you? Has your lifechanged drastically because of

a traumatic event?We are looking for artists andwriters to feature in our next

issue of STRAPPED zine!Submit and and all photog-raphy, tattoos, prose, poetry,

short stories, artwork, streamsAll material is copyrighted and may not be

reused or duplicated for any reason.

ABOUT THE EDITOR: Dori Cameron is amember of The Jezebelles (www.GirlRockChoir.com),the worlds only GIRL.ROCK.CHOIR. based out ofRiverside, California. She is a lemon-eating, Guinnessdrinking, bike enthusiast...and oh yea! She also writes!

SCAN HERE to Like us onFacebook, stay connected, and getencouragement to keep writing,even though youre STRAPPED.

Cover ar by David Richardson, ta oo ar ist Elizabeth St eet Ta oo | www.elect ictomb.co

First time writer? Have writers block?Shoot over an email for

individualized feedback and

suggestions! (Deadline 2/21/14)

Hung watercolor on paper by Iris Eaton

The Ghoul a wood by David www.electric

Stay Scared

of consciousness, haiku, or otherpieces relating to this months

theme, Change [email protected] !

by Roy Barnes

M y roommate sighed. Anotherone? Jesus dude, its just a damnspider!I waited patiently or the soundo a shoe hitting the side o myroom and or the sound o tissueswiping the structure away orev-

er. In an instant the door openedand my savior appeared with agrimace on his ace and a hand-ul o used tissues.

T here, its done. Get some bugspray or something cause I amnot doing this again.I thanked him and returned tomy desk. My skin still elt numb

but I was better now. I hadsurvived another encounter, butonly just barely.

Its unique. To feel someones pulse increasein your grip. To watch their pupils dilate as theysearch for someone to help them. To followtheir eyes to the crowd watching, knowing

damn well that not a single person in the groupis going to lift a finger to help them - not eventhe people they arrived with. You can almostfeel their neck tighten in your grip, their lungsworking in overtime to try and draw a breath.Its a rare moment when the person express-es who they truly are to you. In some ways,I know these people better than their family,than their friends, than their lovers. I get tosee a side of them that most people are afraidto show to anyone. Its a unique feeling, to bethe cause of that. And its one that I absolutelysavor every time I do it.

Y ou see, Its my job to know what scares you,what haunts every moment youre awakeand what terrifies you when youre asleep. Tounderstand fear and know how to draw it fromeven the bravest. Its a unique skill set thattakes years to learn and even longer to perfect.

T o understand fear, you have to know it; youhave to feel it deep inside. You have to know itso well, that it becomes part of your life. Theresa certain irony in that fact that isnt lost on me.Part of what makes me so good at what I do isthe very intimate relationship I have with fear.So intimate that we spend nearly eve ry night ineach others arms. Its this very fear that helpsme bring it out in other people.

Everyone has a deep-seated fear; somethingthat terrifies them beyond a simple scare. Some-thing that will make them drop in place andsob, praying to whatever religion they believein for it to just be a simple nightmare.

Y ou can lie and say that you fear nothing. Youcan show all the false bravado you want. Youcan cry, you can scream, you can beg or pre-

tend that youre a hard-ass. I promise you, it wont matter in the end. If Iwant you to be scared, if I want you torun in terror or fall to your knees whim-pering like a baby, you will.

She told you to stay scared.Im here to make sure you are.

STRAPPED zine Volume I Issue IV - FEAR

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Transcript of STRAPPED zine Volume I Issue IV - FEAR