Secessional Guitar
Lilla Kassai
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Transformation of a Girl
Lilla Kassai
When I was a toddler, I didn’t worry much about my appearance. I loved playing with mud and sand, climbing on trees, and even playing with dolls. I never thought that one day I would look similar to my mom. She looked so different from me.
When I turned eight, I started to hear about things that didn’t sound familiar, for example: menstruation and other stuff for pre-teen girls.
A few years passed, and I turned twelve. Believe it or not, I changed a lot during the past years. I became taller, and I started to lose interest in my dolls, because “they are for babies.” At that time, I couldn’t wait to grow up and be an adult whom their parents can’t tell what to do.
My appearance changed a lot over that time, as well as my attitude towards it. When I was around nine years old, my little tummy started to disappear. The baby fat started to sneak up towards my chest. My breasts started to grow! Most of the girls in my age would start to panic because of it and wear baggy clothes to hide their upcoming curves. In contrast, I didn’t pretend to hide them; in fact, I was quite proud of the change in my appearance. I was so self-conscious about my tummy and baby fat that I was relieved when my curves started to develop. No more tummy and less baby fat! Finally, I’m going to be beautiful!
There are some disadvantageous changes as well in the life of a pre-teen girl: body hair. If we don’t shave it, we look like freaking werewolves; moreover, most of our parents consider us ”too young to shave our body hair.” Because of this, some pre-teen girls can hear whispers in the locker room before or after P.E. lesson:
“Have you seen Dora? Her armpits are getting hairy.”
The other disturbing factors are period and pimples. Our face can look like a redberry pudding, while our stomach hurts and we’re bleeding all week long. During this process, several hormones intensify and cause us emotional instability. We start to cry for no reason, like a five-year-old. Too bad, isn’t it? From a happy toddler, we turn into emotionally unstable, pimple-headed, sometimes self-hating fools.
After a couple of years, we go to high school. For me, it was like a nightmare at first, because it took me eight years to gain acceptance in my primary school class. Now, I had to do this again, but I had only four years left to make friends, get integrated, and not be hated. I feel my optimism spreading….
In some high schools, society has standards, especially for us girls. If we dress too girly: we are sluts. If we have many guy friends: we are sluts. If we dress up in a slightly masculine way, because the clothes in the female section are for anorexic topmodels: we will labeled ugly, and have rumours spoken about us. If we lose our virginity: we are SLUTS. If we don’t: we are prudes. Double standards haunt us for eternity. And meanwhile our hormones are stronger then ever. Hello emotional instability and more self-hating, nice to meet you!
Luckily, we can get through this process over time, which means: growing up. I am sixteen years old, so two years from now, I will be considered an adult, and to be honest: I don’t want it. In my opinion, one of my biggest transformations is that I used to want to grow up, but now I wish I could be a seven-year-old again, sometimes. No responsibility, just some homework from school, and playing. Or even changing a few things: taking karate more seriously, starting to play an instrument earlier and under different conditions, and a lot more. But how it actually went, I can’t regret. I did almost everything as I pleased. I wasn’t forced to take up a hobby, or continue doing one. I just had a happy childhood, and I wish I could live through it again.
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Bringing Dragons to Life
Lilla Kassai
Have you ever wanted to own a dragon? Are you a fan of Eragon, Game of Thrones, or How To Train Your Dragon? Do you like magical fantasy books, or fantasy worlds with all types of mythical creatures? Now, it’s possible even to own them, because now, dragons are real.
The process of bringing them to reality was extremely long, and criticized by GreenPeace activists. It was a mutation between lizards, iguanas, geckos and various sizes of bats. Since only bats have wings made out of leather that could possibly look good on a dragon, scientists made a fetus out of a regular bat’s and a Armadillo lizard’s genes.
The results weren’t the same, as we originally expected: the first few fetuses weren’t capable of living, but later on, they became stronger and stronger. The first dragons that could use their wings for flying were approximately the 20th experimental fetuses. As they grew older, a few more problems occurred: they weren’t capable of reproduction, so their offspring were still made in incubators.
The thirtieth generation of the experimental dragons was the first that finally became fertile and could use their wings for flying. The first dragons that could be kept in a household were finally circulating on the common market, as pets. But the dragon fans wanted more: bigger dragons that could be ridden.
The scientists accepted their challenge: they took a few hundred of the dragon prototypes and brought them into the laboratory again, where the new mixing of the genes began: the genes of a dragon mixed with the genes of varanus and crocodile, to make them grow bigger with stronger and thicker skin.
The first experimental fetuses weren’t the best ones: their wings were too small to bear the weight of the bigger dragons, so they tried again with the bats, but even the biggest species didn’t have wings big enough to enable the new mutant to fly. The final solution seemed to be the genes of a dinosaur, more specifically a Pteranodon. The result was better than the expectation. The new prototypes of dragons were bigger and could fly and reproduce, so their offspring could give better genes for the next mutation with the smaller species of dragons. After mixing their genes, and adding some pigments to them, they started to form different subspecies. To make the evolutionary process faster, the scientists started to make artificial dragon babies, because the mutants, who were now finished, weren’t as prolific as desired.
As soon as the dragons were ready, they were out on the market, but the big ones were extremely expensive and required lots of space, so they were given to farmers, who started breeding them in open air, where the animals were a lot happier than in a science lab.
A few of them still escaped. They mainly flew to mountain forests in the North, where their thick skin protected them from the cold. They lived in the mountains of Siberia, where you can rarely find a human. Just the raw savage and endless forest.
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Issue 1:3 (Winter 2020–2021)
Welcome to the Winter 2020–2021 issue of Folyosó! This issue features our first international contest, a collection of scenes inspired by Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, stories about transformation and the future, and much more. Let it rain or snow; let the lion roar again; these pieces will warm you up. We welcome your readership and comments!
First Folyosó International Contest: Inventions
- About the Contest
- Grand Prize: Bernadett Sági, Virtual or Reality
- First Place: Deniz Pala, Stronger Links
- Second Place: Gergely Sülye, In an Arm’s Reach, and Kázmér Kaposvári, Salvation or the End
- Third Place: Defne Lal Koçer, Life Consists of Choices, and Lilla Kassai, Bringing Dragons to Life
- Honorable Mention: Lili Forgács, The Language-Capsule; Ahmet Yavuz Kaya, Muter3000; Eszter Aletta Hevesi, The Portal; and Alexandra Klaudia Süveges, Camping with a Little Bit of Magic
Fiction and Quasi-Fiction
- Áron Antal: Work
- Katalin Szabó: Alone
- Tamás Takács: Michael the Caterpillar
- Sándor Tor: Is This the Future?
- Gergely Sülye: Transformation
- Bettina Czékus: Arbya
- Eszter Aletta Hevesi: The Story of Gen E
- Lili Forgács: The Truth
- Hunor Gangel: From Late to Early
- Bernadett Sági: Going Back to a ‘Familiar’ Place
- Ilona Králik: Unexpected Family Member
- Viktória Kiss: A Story in the Future
- Sándor Szakács: Challenging Times
- Alexandra Klaudia Süveges: Ran out of Friends
- Botond Vass: The Shelter
- Zsófia Vona: A Dream Come True
- Máté Zupkó: A Story That I Used to Tell my Grandkids
Nonfiction
- Adél Mihályi: Personalities
- Lídia Borbála Szabó: Future
- Lilla Kassai: Transformation of a Girl
- Petra Varga: There’s a Book That Everyone Knows
- Szabina Tamara Da Cunha Carvalho: The Problem with BLM Movements in Hungary
Scenes Based on A Midsummer Night’s Dream
- Áron Antal: Something Even Stranger
- Bertalan Szegi: Act 1, Scene 1
- Dávid Csáki: Let Him Roar Again
- Dorottya Turza: The Surprise of the Century
- Gergely Sülye: As from a Voyage
- Gréta Tóth: A Midsummer Night’s Gestalt
- Zsófia Szabina Gávris: A Nice Article
Art
- Lilla Kassai: Secret Date in the Woods
- Lilla Kassai: Still Life with Fruit (cover art)
- Lilla Kassai: Secessional Guitar
- Lilla Kassai: Two Photographs
Submit to the Spring 2021 issue!
Cover art by Lilla Kassai.
Letter from the Editor
Folyosó began in the spring of 2020, when school in Hungary had gone online in response to COVID-19. This fall, we are back in the school building, conducting classes in person, but the need for Folyosó has not diminished a bit. To the contrary: it continues to bring out lively ideas, language, and art; bring writers and readers together; and assume a character and life of its own. Folyosó pieces might be witty, eerie, or serene–but they all show writers playing with stories and words.
Some of the pieces have come out of English assignments; others came out of the blue. It has started to happen–with increasing frequency–that a student will stop to speak with me in the hallway, or at the end of class, and will tell me, “I think I have a piece for Folyosó.” In one case, a Varga graduate sent me a piece. Another former Varga student sent me photo art for the Folyosó Gallery. As the word spreads and the readership builds, there will be still more surprises.
This fall we had our first Folyosó contest, on the subject of how we determine what is important in life. This was a first in more than one way. It was the first time that students could submit work in Hungarian to the journal. Also, it was the first time that I involved colleagues in the selection of pieces. A five-person jury (Anikó Bánhegyesi, Judit Kassainé Mrena, Judit Kéri, Marianna Jeneiné Fekete, and myself) selected the winning pieces. This allowed not only for multiple perspectives, but also shared enjoyment.
So sit back, enjoy, and get rattled! Read Áron Antal’s touchingly humorous “Grandpa’s Stories,” Lilla Kassai’s morbid yet tender “Danse Macabre,” Gergely Sülye’s “All Should Be in Order,” Gábor Medvegy’s “The Damned Man,” Bernadett Sági’s “Taller Than Tall,” and much more! Share the pieces with others–and if you have a comment, please leave it here. We have one comment page for the whole journal, so please specify which piece you are commenting on.
For the winter issue, we look forward to our first-ever international contest, as well as a number of dramatic pieces that take Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream in unexpected directions. Until then, the autumn issue of Folyosó will give you many hours of good reading. Thank you for taking part.
Sincerely,
Diana Senechal
English and Civilization Teacher
Editor of Folyosó
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About the Contributors
Folyosó Issue 1:2 (Autumn 2020)
Áron Antal likes to spend his time in nature and in the bordering land around his town; interested in old machinery, cars and motorcycles especially, and things from the mid-nineteenth century to the 90s, as well as the lifestyle of that era, he is trying to include these in his stories and build them a plot, an important role.
Gergő Busa is a short and charismatic student who often helps his friends when they ask (especially in history), people often refer to him as the “Storyteller,” and he is also involved in the great hobby of Warhammer 40K.
Dániel Dancza is a student from 11C who is only now getting into writing after many years of daydreaming. Though currently working on a psychological horror series with many fantastical elements, he plans to move into pure high fantasy later.
Lili Forgács is a sixteen-year-old girl with an enormous heart and even larger dreams.
Zsófia Gávris is a sixteen-year-old girl who sees the positive side of everything and tries to find the beautiful things in her everydays.
Lilla Kassai is a bit of a weird girl who loves dark and morbid jokes and is not afraid of telling them to people like you.
Fanni Kepenyes is a bookworm who also likes to write her own stories.
Attila Marcell Kiss was born in Szolnok.
Ilona Králik is just a girl at the beginning of her life, but she already has big goals for her future.
Dániel Lipcsei is a folk dancer in two ensembles, Rákóczi Néptáncetyüttes—Rákóczifalva and Tisza Táncegyüttes, and a member of Class 12.C at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium.
Gábor Medvegy is a man as simple as a heavily modified MK-IV nuclear submarine, and whose chaotic, incoherent sentences are piled on each other in such way that he often mistakes them for a ‘story’.
Anna Mészáros tries as many new things as possible.
I am Adél Mihályi, and I am not good at speaking, so I write.
Laura Mora is a girl who tries to be a better person and makes an effort to improve herself in many ways.
My name is Bernadett Sági and I am so excited, because this is the second time that my work has been published on the internet.
Heléna Spinou is a seventeen-year-old daydreamer who loves adventurous experiences, especially during trips abroad.
According to Gergely Sülye, the quarantine of 2020 is something you can conveniently use for some serious self-improvement at home.
Alexandra (Süveges) is now drowning in an indescribable emptiness.
Sándor Szakács is a guy from Martfű who tends to overcomplicate things.
Erika Mária Szántó loves her dog.
Tamás Takács is an occasionally randomly inspired “writer.”
Gréta Tóth says, “Anything you say or do may be used in my story!”
Dorottya Turza: I’m like a book you have to read. A book can’t read itself to you. It doesn’t even know what it’s about.
Petra Varga: Dried roses, pictures, chansons, memories, poems. Rationalist….
Dominika Zahar is a daydreamer who reaches for the Sun.
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Haunted House
Lilla Kassai
I lived in a family house in the suburbs. It was one of the most comfortable and calming places ever: the warm coloured walls, the garden full of flowers in the spring, the modern and technically well-equipped kitchen and the Victorian furniture in the living room created a perfect balance of old and new. I always felt comfortable and calm when at home. It was the most calming, relaxing and friendly atmosphere ever.
Although I’m sixteen years old now, I still shiver when I have to go down to the basement. Unlike the upper floors, the basement was neither calming nor friendly. It was dark, and there was never enough light in the lamp to illuminate the whole place, so every time I went down there to do laundry or to find a tool that would help us fix a damaged object, I got scared. When I was little, I was afraid of even going near the basement door. The door was rarely closed: it was a long process to close it, because the lock was damaged easily, and that place was always in need of fresh air to avoid the mold on the walls, or the stale air, or even the smell of must. As I walked past the basement door, I had the strange feeling that someone was watching me from down there. I turned around, so I was “face-to-face” with the door. I swear, sometimes I heard some weird noises coming out of it, when it opened with a creaking sound. Then the scenery would turn into a nightmare: the door became a monster with razor sharp teeth, who wanted to eat me up, and the unexposed stairway downwards was the monster’s throat, leading to complete darkness. To the hopeless, everlasting darkness, from which people can never return. Then I screamed for my mom, and she had to convince me that there was no monster in the basement.
It was a very common action ten years ago, but sometime I still have the same feeling that someone is watching me from the basement. Now, I just ignore it, because it is a stupid childhood fear, and I am almost a grown-up woman! I don’t have time for this!
All the same, I still consider my house the most calming place ever. My family, my friends who come over at weekends are the most precious things. They help me in studies, or in overcoming something traumatic, like my dog’s passing.
But there was one person whom I hated when she came over: the chambermaid, who did the laundry or cooked for us sometimes. She had medium-length, wavy, greasy grey hair, and a look on her wrinkly face as if she were always smelling cat piss. And she hated me, what a surprise. She called me a Satanist for being into metal music, and always told my parents that I would rot in hell for listening to the “Devil’s Music.”
One day, everything changed, mostly my attitude to my home. The chambermaid had agonising pain for years that she couldn’t bear, so she ended her life. She hung herself in the basement after putting in the laundry. She didn’t leave a note to explain to us why she did it. My mom found her body; she is still visiting the psychologist regularly, like most of us. By now, I can’t see the same calming, and friendly place in my house that I used to see.
The image of my home that now lives in me is the dark stairway leading to the basement. I often dream about that dark place, and I feel that my home is now haunted by the chambermaid. Around midnight, I always wake up to a creaking sound, and shortly afterward, I hear footsteps walking around in the house and the whistling of an old song that she used to whistle. An hour later, the basement door creaks again, and I hear footsteps going downwards, and sometimes the groaning of someone in agonising pain. I know she is still here, and as a sixteen-year-old teenager, I am still terrified. It’s not like a fear that you feel when someone scares you in a prank. It is like when a soft sound sends shivers down your spine, the feeling that you are not alone, that someone is watching you from a dark corner and following you. After that, you turn around and see no one, but you still have the phobia that someone‘s always there.
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