Instructions:
Titles and Student Names in: Aller
(Titles Bold 36 pt, Names Regular 24 pt)
Article Text in: Chucaratext 20 pt
Caption Text in: Aller Italic, 16 pt
Use the provided color boxes to create background for title text when appropriate (each has a different level of transparency) by copying and pasting, then stretching as needed)
You can change the color on the left (think of using the dropper to match color to page art OR use the INK standard below.
Remember to consider space - can you use one page of a double page spread to have a full page gallery of art? Or spread one picture across a double page spread for a big impact?
With text, please stay within the established guides for space (Use the grid, and leave a 4 block "gutter."
Wrap text around photos to work with space when appropriate.
Down In The Village
by Lindsay Walls-Ott '16
The running began when he was old enough to walk, and he could reach the chipping metal doorknob of his home; the home where his parents kept guests away, and covered mirrors with thick blankets–as if the mirrors themselves could reveal secrets just as well as the neighbors could.
Fluorescent lights lit the sterile hospital room, the one above the bed flickers alongside the woman’s wails. A tired looking man sits in the corner of the room, his eyes sunken and droopy. His hands–so much like large white spiders–wrung together, creating a shadowy puppet show on the floor. His nerves are wound tight in wonderful anticipation, wonderful because of his new son–for he did not know of the abnormal troubles he would bring. The malfunctioning bulb becoming a comforting but growing nuisance, the man rubs the tops of his thighs with the palms of his hands and exhales through his nose. The irritated sound becoming instantly lost in the forest of cries from his wife.
A doctor with broad shoulders and in monochromatic uniform hovers over the hospital bed. He glances at the lights nervously, the thought of a power outage in the front of his mind. The woman’s cries seem distant to him, he urges her to push and the lights go out. In the darkness he hears the baby.....a gurgling, strangled sound and he knows the umbilical cord is choking it. The darkness is thick, slowing things down in the room. The doctor is vaguely aware the lights in the hall are still on, but does nothing to penetrate the dark. Only the red numbers of the digital clock glow, casting an eerie flare across the woman’s bed. Remembering the child who is struggling to breath, the doctor begins to work by the light of the clock (it reads “3:33 a.m.”). He cuts the umbilical cord, and the cries start.
Stephen King Style ...