The Monroe College Art Collaborative Club


March 2017




Story by Pamela Garcia
Artwork by Benedicto Santana

He felt it; the rage within was overpowering. He sat there on that smelly old couch that had forever been in his rusty old house as he listened to her for the third time this week. She stood in front of him, with her hands on her waist, on the stained lumpy carpet that  he wouldn’t consider spending money on changing. Dust covered the room, for he could no longer afford to have someone clean and was too tired after work to do it himself; and of course there was no way that she could do it either working two jobs. There wasn’t much decor in the house other than a few pictures hanging on the wall from the honeymoon part of their relationship that now seemed like distant memories of other people’s lives.

The vintage lamp on the table next to the couch was the only thing providing descent light into the room, since she had decided to turn off his TV show as she began the new afternoon routine of yelling. She came in and went directly into the kitchen, completely ignoring him at first. He heard her pour herself a glass of wine, unsure if it was an appropriate drink for the middle of the week. She must of seen the dirty dishes still laying in the sink, because she came back to where he was sitting and it all went down to hell from there. He dismissed her until she shut off his distraction and all he could hear was the same nagging he had heard last night. It had been a never ending cycle ever since she had had to get that second and indecent job so they could afford groceries. He was working hard too, but this is not what she had in mind when they decided to move in together two years into the relationship. Well, neither did he, yet he tried to manage and did not appreciate coming home to feel emasculated or to rage his problems on her. Although, that might of avoided all of this frustration caged inside and that was now peeking out of its private dungeon.

Today all was different, yet it was all the same as every day and every week that  he had given up on having something more and keeping her happy and keeping himself happy. He had been drowning for months now and today something seemed to wiggle itself out. It was small, but every insult his way, somehow opened the door a little more of its prison and managed to find more room to wiggle itself through. “You lazy piece of sh!t! You can’t get off the couch for something other than a beer!”, she claimed on. She wouldn’t stop yelling.

It was bubbling now; the rage. Red and black, the view from the eyes of a wild beast. Blink. Still there. He tries again, holding his eyes shut, he tries to ignore the voice that’s pounding on him. It’s blinding when he opens his eyes and the red heightens. He can’t seem to shake it. But the voices of fear… that fear that used to flutter when these darkest of thoughts ruled his mind weren’t even whispering. Where was that fear that pushed him down on that couch? These colors in his view conflicted him with the consequences of his actions. Nothing else at the moment drowned him, but the loud pitching sound coming from her throat and it set off his darkness. He felt blind and deaf with red. He couldn’t feel anything but the increasing rage. This time everything felt different. This time he couldn’t take it anymore. This time he wouldn’t and couldn’t hide in the fears that his humanity forced him to feel. This time, he let the beast free letting the bars of its cage disappear as if they were mere sand, blown by the wind. He didn’t try to push it back and he embraced the beast within, letting it take form as himself.

Wild, free, powerful. These waves of feelings finally crashing on the sand that was his cage. The ecstasy of losing control rose in his body as the warmth splattered from her body and hugged his skin like an old friend reunited. The room was now dark as the lamp had fallen to the floor, crashing with his rage. In the darkness he could only feel strength striding up and down his arms, denying her claims on past words exposed. He didn’t know how much he had needed this moment and how exhilarating it would feel when it finally presented itself dripping from his hands. So swift are his movements that he cannot feel the weight of his accomplice. His ears enjoy the music now coming from her mouth, a song he didn’t expect to appreciate and absorb as if trying to enclose it in his mind for future days to come. The ecstasy trip races down as her screams have transformed into soft releases of pleas and finally a heavy breath is exposed as we reach the end of his torment.

A beautiful gift of silence. Eternal silence. Nothing more would come from those lips that had taunted his ears and mind, time and time again. Her words had finally been erased as pleasure and the most profound happiness emerged on his mouth.

He sat, for hours and hours in the cold floor enjoying and admiring her face, reflecting on what he hadn’t since the moment he set his eyes on hers; incredible beauty. He glared until his eyes found themselves in the freedom of rest. The eyes that had missed laying in dreams of clouds, sank in beautiful memories and of his future days to come. Days of rain on the roof of the cabin he inherited by the river, where he could bathe his monsters. Where he would sit to enjoy their company on the chair by the fire that blazed under the pictures of the women in his life; his collection of red.



Pamela Garcia is a freshman here at Monroe College.


The newest from Shelly-Ann Leslie.


By Tyvaughn Bedford

Like any other day in California, I woke up to a great warm breakfast from my housekeeper. I’m always very amiable towards her as I am grateful for her services. She performs her duties with such alacrity and precision. These are a few reasons why she is being paid 1K an hour. I look at her as a part of the Bedford family. She’s been around for years and serves as a mother figure to my son, Kenpachi.

Always with my best interests at heart my housekeeper makes certain the meals prepared are not exceedingly  high in calories, for my son is dealing with his gluttony problem. Kenpachi is overweight for his age and is often teased by the other kids at Hogwarts High. I talk to my son and encourage him to ignore bullies and to exercise. I tend to use our billion dollar wealth as leverage to lighten Kenpachi’s heart, but what really gets him smiling is the empathy shown by our housekeeper. She just has that motherly warming touch that forsakes Kenpachi to not pursue his goal of losing weight. She has even gone as far out of the confines of her daily tasks to contact the school and board of administration to inhibit these acts of bullying. Her actions since then have paid off, for over the course of time and careful meal planning, Kenpachi has lost a significant amount of weight. The bullying from the other kids will result in their expulsion.


Tyvaughn Bedford is a freshman Business Administration student on the New Rochelle campus of Monroe College.

The Selection by Kiera Cass

Book: The Selection by Kiera Cass 

“It’s a really good, interesting book! It shows you the difference between (social) classes…. There are levels of class, level 7 means you’re really poor and levels 4 to 5 means you’re really high class…it shows you that different people get treated in different ways. -Eli, Culinary Arts Major, Freshman 


Monroe Open Mic and Art Exhibit: March 8th, 2017

Last night The Monroe Art Collaborative and the Poetry Club held an amazing event at the Barnes and Noble on the New Rochelle campus! All the participants were eloquent and read from their hearts. Additionally, artist Rajkumari Roy displayed her artwork! It was a pleasure seeing all the creativity in the room! Take a look at the pictures below! More events to come!

We had eighteen budding artists share their work!


Christopher reading a winning poem.
Rajkumari Roy with two of her pieces of artwork.


We all enjoyed delicious pizza, and four students received gift certificates for their readings! A successful night for all!

Coffee House February 27th: Parenting

“Children are 100% a product of their surroundings. Parents need a test as a couple to determine if they should be legally allowed to be a parent. The test should involve income, education, and even the compatibility of the two parents as a couple.”

“Parents should not have kids if they are not able to raise them.”

“You are a product of your surroundings. You can’t choose your parents, but you can choose your path in life.”

“I have the power within to be an exception! God bless!”

“You can’t run away from the life you were made to live.”

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