Nov 25
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Mi Nombre

That’s my mother’s maiden name. It is also my first name. It’s a strange name, often mistaken. It is not
Bryce, Brig, Brick, Bridge, Bricks or even Prince as one old man misheard.
This was one of many choices for my name. Most were nearly as strange, though I still would have prefered nearly all of them.
Ronan, Cadmium, Van, Rory and one of my dad’s favorites - Boy.
But my great grandmother had a dream before my birth that I would be Briggs, and so it was.
I don’t like my name. It doesn’t fit me.
But as the Bard would say,
A Briggs by any other name would still be a fool.

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Nov 23
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    It was the same song. The same dismal chords that had echoed through the halls for over a month were issuing forth once more from the Captain’s quarters. The slow tune and deep melodious voice that accompanied it were all too familiar to the ears of the men. Yet through these last days, the song had become fragmented, the chords halting and the voice ragged. And this night, the song had failed. Sitting at the trestle table with his fellows, Adan had listened to the first strains of music and haunting words sung in a language he did not know. But soon the song had faltered as the Captain’s voice broke. The men had exchanged glances, though none spoke. Adan knew most wished the music would stop for good, knew how they hated the way the song summoned up their own pain. But to him, it felt brilliantly true. So it was Adan who stepped away from the table and turned towards the passage that led to the Captain’s rooms.
Nov 11
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A Brief Introduction

Since I was very small, I have been creating a massive fantasy universe. Originally inspired by Tolkien’s Middle Earth and later Ed Greenwood’s Forgotten Realms and George R. R. Martin’s Westeros, this world is still very much a work in progress. Here is the briefest of introductions (believe it or not).
Oct 27
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I recently found a note from my preschool teacher to my parents. It seems I loved drawing and reading even then. Though I was comfortable with the adults, I didn’t want to join the other groups of kids. Not much has changed. To my five year old self I say this:
Talk to the other kids

That’s important. You can’t do it on your own, nor should you.
Draw, read, write even more

I know. You already do those things all the time. You are going to spend your life doing those things. Still, you will always think you should have done them more.
Eat better

Yeah, I know that’s mundane. But that diet of sugar and salt will followed you through to the end of high school and it has to stop. That one’s on you buddy.
Don’t stay at home
Oct 21
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    There is no idea more important to me than that of beauty. Call it what you will- beauty, majesty, grace, magnificence, glamour, splendor- it is a concept that has driven me for as long as I can remember. I am an artist, always seeking to find and create beauty. To many, beauty is aesthetic, an word to describe something’s appearance. But Merriam-Webster’s definition of beauty is more to my liking.

‘the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit’

   Beauty “exalts the mind or spirit.” I could not ask for a more perfect description. Beyond that, there is no way to qualify it, for there is beauty in many things. Truly, beauty is a feeling more than anything else, a sense of perfection that may hold you in its grasp for hours or pass by, almost too quickly to be realized.
Oct 14
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    Less than a month remains of the cross-country season. That means less than a month left of my high school cross-country career. For six years now, I have spent the fall season running. I began this journey in seventh grade and will finish it as a senior, having put more time and energy into the sport than seems reasonable. Though I have countless moments set in my mind, I still count my very first day as my dearest memory of cross-country. It was the first day of middle school and of course, everything had been alien to me. Like everyone else entering a new school, I was terrified and excited in equal measure. But I don’t take change well, and by 2:25 I was shaken. I had made no new friends and was more than a little worried about doing well in school. The last thing I wanted to do was stay in this strange new world, let alone run with a bunch of strangers. Early that day, I had tried desperately to join the team, forcing myself to brave the guidance office and sign up.
Sep 29
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Pay Attention

“well i never saw it coming, that’s for sure.”

“oh, neither did i, believe me.” he was sitting against the wall, grinning widely. his fingers were twining through his thick, raven hair with an excited energy.

“what were her actual words, though?” she was kneeling in front of him. her brows were knitted in mild consternation and her eyes reflected clear interest. he didnt hear her, too lost in the ecstasy of the last few minutes.

“hey pay attention.” she said and tenderly poked him in the arm. When he looked at her, she knew he wasn't coming out of his daze anytime soon. she stood and swung her bag over her shoulder.

“i hope this makes you happy”
Sep 13
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The wind is cold as it snarls through his hair. This high above the ground, the air is bound to bite, but Tel relishes the feeling. It is too stifled beneath the canopy, where none but the strongest gusts break through the outermost trees, only to be reduced to the slightest breeze by the time they reach the heart of the forest. Sometimes, when the unending quiet and the unmoving air become too much, Tel will climb to the very peak of one the great trees and revel in keening wind, the cries of hunting birds, the shaking of the high boughs and, on some nights, whispers of song and music from the logging village to the north. But the nights are unrivaled. The sounds of the world are muffled, cowed by the beauty of the darkling sky. The land’s great shroud is dusted with stars this night and Tel thinks he could spend eternity here, watching the celestials travel. The stars shine with their otherworldly brilliance, alien and uncaring.
Jun 28
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Personal Essay

    I am Briggs Malachy Heffernan. Seventeen, from Newbury, Vermont. Though that means little and less. I am me- introverted, creative, judgemental, stressed, inspired. I run, I listen to music, watch movies and play videogames. But more than that, I am an artist. Writing and drawing are what I do. I write to let others see the stories inside my head. I draw to do the same. My art, be it literary or visual, is a vessel for storytelling. My mind is overfull with tales of heroes and villains, terrible monsters and ancient secrets.
Jun 19
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A Chalk Ring - Part Four

    At once, the skeletal mage knew he gazed upon Marlat. The frenzied drawings and fevered sketches made by the few mortals who had seen this archfiend and survived matched the creature before him. The being coiled in the summoning circle was unlike anything the lich had seen in his centuries of undeath. A woman’s nude torso, formed of what seemed to be the purest ivory grew from a long, thick tail like that of a monstrous snake. The archfiend was painfully beautiful, white stone hair cascading down her back and ending where her hips morphed into the wide sleek reptilian body, covered in wide white scales becoming mottled red and black by the tip of the barbed tail. She turned to face the proud robed figure, uncoiling as she did, to tower eight feet over the tall mage, nearly touching the chamber’s high ceiling.