“I d-don’t know and I don’t care,” sobbed Jill.

Scrubb saw that she wasn’t quite herself yet and very sensibly offered her a peppermint. He had one too. Presently Jill began to see things in a clearer light.

–From “The Silver Chair” by C.S. Lewis

On a break his mother told us that his biggest frustration at school was that he couldn’t hear.

Oh.

She had been letting us talk to him as if he could hear. She didn’t stop us, “Wait! He can’t hear! Just ignore him!”
Maybe that’s what we were supposed to do. Keep talking to him like he was the rest of us.

She told us how he doesn’t get what he needs at school. “He’s thrown in a classroom with all the other misfits with just one teacher.” Wow, I thought to myself. I’m not trained for this. But really, does a class teach us how to show compassion?

They need individual attention.

Individual love.
Like all children.
Like all humans.

I kept saying his name, tickling his cheek, maybe he could hear the vibrations of my voice.

Some of the greatest composers wrote music even though they were deaf.

This child was still a boy, a child worth loving.

I kept calling his name.

He laughed.

Perfect. Living captured on camera.

Intriguing, though-provoking and occasionally dazzling, The Marching Band Emporium is a personal selection of pieces from the first year of the innovative literary blog of the same name.

Alongside a rich crop of drawings, mini sagas, poetry, short stories and a healthy dose of twisted logic, the curious reader will find the brand-new genre of the Excerpt from Lost Novels, taking you into a world of half-lit scenarios and mesmerising characters from imagined books.

All this, and more, from The Marching Band Emporium.

Grab a copy of a compilation written by this truly talented and insightful author.

Confetti is shot out of a cannon to my right, and sparkly, colorful paper butterflies fly through the air. I resist the urge to find them magical and beautiful, and consider smothering my childish wonderment, but seconds later I put my hands up and grab some, and in moments I have secured several blue ones and a shiny purple one. Pleased with my triumph, I carefully put the paper butterflies in my pocket as plans for my scrapbook take hold in the back of my mind.

And despite the fact that the band’s number one song has been playing in my car for months, when I hear it, it is as if I am hearing it for the first time and tears come to my eyes. The music, oh, the music! So dramatic! So full of artistry! So powerful!

What is it about live music that can influence so many … is it just the theatrics powered by millions of dollars, is it the clever marketing and free giveaways, is it the good looks and impeccable style of the band, or is it really and truly the music that moves me to behave as if I’m another version of myself? The easy answer might be a combination of all of those things.

But regardless what it is, and despite all of my efforts to not fall into a marketing scheme, I’d see Coldplay in concert again in a heartbeat.

It’s so easy to make. I cheat, I guess, and use Bisquick. There’s a recipe on the box for the delicious lumps of dough, and all you need besides that are fresh strawberries (maybe six or seven sliced up), sugar, and milk.

Step 1: Place a warm lump of dough in a bowl. It looks homely and alone, doesn’t it? On to step 2 for the solution to this unsightly problem!

Step 2: Add the sliced strawberries. They incorporate color and cheerfulness into an otherwise colorless, carbohydrat-ey concoction.

Step 3: Because strawberries aren’t sweet enough on their own (tee-hee), you should add some sugar. What I do is dump a sizable amount of sugar on top. Maybe an eighth of a cup. More sugar than you should ever put in something, is the amount you should put in here.

Step 4: If the dough turned out to be a little burnt in the oven or you’re afraid they might be dry, do not fear, for the milk that you will add last will be absorbed into everything and you won’t even notice. Add enough milk to be absorbed, and then add a little more.

And …Voila. A sweet and vaguely healthy breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack. It’s comfort food, it’s togetherness food, it’s lazy food, it’s filling food. It’s one of the best parts about strawberry season.

Welcome, Spring, and all of your fruit and veggie bountifulness!

Documenting the Unseen is the end result of over a year’s hard work and dedication by the whole Mind Sprocket staff, and was made possible by a host of committed individuals who, without their generous donation of time and talent, this book would not have been possible. I am forever indebted to Luke Atkinson, Jacqueline Johnson, Lindsey Anderson, Anatole Upart, and Lacey Anderson.

But there’s no sense in dilly-dallying: go get yourself a copy of Documenting the Unseen!