ink magazine south salem hs 2014

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ink magazine 2014

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INK Art and Literary Magazine South Salem HS 2014

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ink magazine

2014

Executive Editor / DesignerRACHAL MEZA ROJAS

Public Relations DirectorJULIE McGOWAN

Managing EditorsASHLEA DIAZOLIVIA FORD

SATIVA HELMERSAMANTHA SCHAFER

Web EditorsTYLER NORBURY

BRYCE RAY

PublisherBRIAN ERIKSEN

Special ThanksELIZABETH CALLAHAN

KATIE GILMOURCLYPIAN STAFF

Contact503-399-5542

1910 Church St. SESalem, OR 97302

[email protected] Magazine, published for use by SSHS students, faculty and staff, is private property. A single copy of INK Magazine is free for single copies per household. Ad-ditional copies may be purchased for 50 cents each. Unauthorized removal of multiple copies will be considered theft and is prosecut-able. Copyright 2014.

INKmagazine

Table of contents2

MACIE RUBLE

ELIZABETH

PEREZ-QUINTERO

CHLOE CURTIS

ART MUSIC POETRY SHORT STORIES PHOTOGRAPHY PAGE 3 PAGE 4 PAGE 5-6 PAGE 7 PAGE 8

Art

A Study of the Mermaid

Acrylic painting with an ink transfer.

Kayla Rigsby Grade 12

A l i c e F a l l i n gKayla Rigsby

Grade 12Acrylic painting with an ink transfer.

3

Music

This is an arrangement of Connect by ClariS, the opening theme from the anime, Puella Magi Madoka

Magica, for the Alto Sax. The instrumental of the original song can be used as an accompaniment.

Go online to Clypian.com to hear Takur’s live rendition.

ConnectTakur Conlu

Grade 10

4

Poetry

This hill is still crusted in snow,The branches casting etches of cobwebs above my head, they turn to

Lace before my eyes. And they burn with the East,Alighted in screaming oranges and pinks

Turning my retinas to gold.Some days, like today, I wish I didn’t have to turn the bend in my road to-

wards the northern nothingness,I wish I could run away. Into the eastern sunlight,

Enveloping my bones in light to carry.There are hills there that only plague my dreams,

And somewhereOver streams and mountains lies Chicago.

If only I could ever make it away fromThis valley clinging down my skin with sodden fabrication,

The lies and truth of what never really was home to me.My mother always wanted to run west but I itch for

East.

East

Elli Van Der LindeGrade 10

he would Sit at the windowand Stare at the walland he would Pretendhe was Nothing at all

he wouldn’t Say anythingnot one single Soundthese invisible ChainsHeld him tightly bound

oh, he’d Think things, of courseand all the words he Didn’t saySwirled about in his brainDreaming and Longing for Freedom one day;

His Silence

Hope MageeGrade 11

How will you respond?When, life pushes you down,How will you respond?When you give up,How will you respond?When someone gets bullied,How will you respond?If you get abused,How will you respond?If you are stuck in problems,How will you respond?If you feel like giving up,How will you respond?Your response will be all from yourself.When you need help, or someone you see needs help,that’s your option to stand upand fight for yourself.You can’t sit down and expect everything to come your way.Stand up and fight for your right.

How Will I Respond

Alex CristobalGrade 10

Loss is not just an emotion.It is a pain that starts at the base of my throat.It starts out as a cancerous lump, that gets bigger and bigger,Until it erupts.Then the pain spreads like a fire,Burning its way through my body,And overwhelming my mind.The burn then subsides and, like drinking whiskey,It leaves my soul numb.The burn is now gone, but so is the relief.Life turns into a hollow balloon threatening to float away.I want to it let go, but eventually,Someone walks into my life.They hold me together, and everyday easier.They stitch the tear in my heart.The lost will never be forgotten,They will always be loved.Their love will be remembered,And turn into a permanent scar.Loss isn’t just an emotion;It will always remain as a part of you.

Loss

[Unknown]

Time was still. Everything awoke abruptly.

Motions were blurred I heard the Sound of men chasing us through

The forest. Leaves crunching. Branches snapping. The man held

My hand almost dragging me. He kept on repeating, “Sh, keep

Moving don’t stop. We stop we die.”We then found a low under cut in a

Ravine. We took refuge. The man then handed me a pistol. He then asked, “Do you remember what I told you?” I told him, “Yes.”

The man then ran off. He was gone For an exceptional amount of time.

I began to worry. Sounds began to resonate in the

Forest, unknown; mechanical; Inhuman. Then I began to see Shapes forming in the woods.

Humanoid in nature. Closing in. They were coming to get me.

Fear was over taking me. I then gripped the pistol.

They were closing in. I brought it to the ready.

After that. Everything went dark.

The Forest

Ryan GreenspanGrade 12

If only life was a circle that never ended.If only death was an imaginary point on a separate plane.

If only sickness was a line parallel to health, never meeting.If only health was an infinitely large plane exactly equal to life.

If only love was timeless.If only friendship was inseparable.

If only...

Kaitlyn ClawsonGrade 10

[Untitled]

5

It was a cold morning, The waters were chilled like the icy

Grip of death itself. We have been traversing the ocean

For days now. Hunger has set in.

Insomnia has taken it’s toll. We were all very aware of

What was to come. We approached the beach, Time began running slow.

The enemy in site. The boats just ran aground the gates

Dropped and we charged.Hundreds of thousands of soldiers

Storm the beach. Madness ensues.

Bullets fly everywhere. It seems silence was almost

Unthinkable on that fateful day. People were falling dropping like flies

As the steaming lead gave them a One way trip to god.

Minutes after I saw my friend get hit With a stray round.

I soon followed his fate. A 30-06 round hit me square in the Leg. Very near to the femoral artery.

As I lay there bleeding out calling To my corpsman. I began to realize.

It’s happening. This is the time. The corpsman suddenly appears Into my hazy vision he sees the

Wounded leg and begins to treat. But, it is too late shock has already

Set in. As he begins haphazardly Treating the leg for the bullet wound

As this process continued. The world began to spin and fade

In and out of color. Then everythingJust went black.

The Longest Day

Ryan GreenspanGrade 12

Poetry

From night to dayI feel you, Pain

You’re here to stayYou make me insane

With all my mightI don’t give in

I continue to fightBut I just can’t win

You push me downBut still I try

I feel I’ll drownAs I start to cry

You just won’t leaveTherefore I stopI let You achieve

With one final drop

You’re in my soulYou’re one with me

No longer do you controlBut now I see

I’d tried so hardI just wanted to forget

Now I’m scarredMy path is set

It could be FateBut no matter whatI can no longer hate

For that door has shut

It’s the way it is With one final show

One last kissI let the hurt go

Don’t think I wonMy battle was lostBut I no longer run

I paid the cost

[Untitled]

Ashlea DiazGrade 12

6

Short Stories

Minutes, hours, days, they all trickle by. I am near her always, but

she doesn’t feel me. Her face, her smile, her tone, everything about her is hollow. She was wiped away the moment my heartbeat ceased, now I watch

her shell, praying that she comes back. Maybe then, I could leave.

Faded beauty that she is, I love her still. She has an empty peace about her, knowing how close the end is, accepting it, but fearing it still. I touch her

wrinkled hand with my trans-lucent, perfectly young one, and she doesn’t stir. She never does. I watch the machine’s sporadic, jumping line that tracks her heartbeat. Then, fi-nally, it is a flat line, a green ho-rizon against the black screen.

I look back at her as the woman I love finally emerges from her cocoon. Her face is no longer marred with indents and folds, she is no longer weighed down by years of loneliness. She is free, and so am I.

Kayla Rigsby Grade 12

The Wait

David Weber Grade 10Extended version available at Clypian.com

7

He could love, just not her. Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9

He spread the word of god for $10,000 a month. Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

Ripped clothes, dirty skin, rotten food, and a frown full of hope. Jorge Ruiz Grade 10

The photograph bore signs of persistent attempts to enter the second dimension. Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

“The NSA will never find us here!” *Door breaks down* Nathan Camuso Grade 10

He tried to balance the world, but it always came out lopsided. Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

His head cracked on the sidewalk. No one heard. Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

You can be anything you want to be, no dream is too big, no step is too small. Take a leap of faith. Macie Ruble Grade 10

Long distance relationships: miles between, but no one closer. Kaylene Abraham Grade 10

I saw the sun today for the first time. Beauty blinds. Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

Alone, ripped away, but never for-gotten. Cheyenne Ward Grade 10

Stay strong, and smile on. Miriah DeBoer Grade 10

I pass a man with a smile and de-termined to step. Isaac Morris Grade 10

Hospital, life, first cry. Miranda Rogers Grade 10

You leaned against me. For a bet-ter look at her. Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9

The photograph bore signs of persistent attempts to enter the second dimension. Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

We all sound the same, under water. Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9

In the rain, no one could see the tears on the gravestone. Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

A few months ago, just be-fore my English students read a short story by Ernest

Hemingway, I shared with them the following anecdote concern-ing Hemingway’s writing style. The story is the ultimate example of what Hemingway is best known for--his economical writing style that says so much in very few words.

“Apparently, Ernest Hemingway was lunching at Luchow’s with a number of writers and claimed that he could write a short story that was only six words long. Of course, the other writers balked. Heming-

way told each of them to put ten dollars in the middle of the table; if he was wrong, he said, he’d match it. If he was right, he would keep the entire pot. He quickly wrote six words down on a napkin and passed it around; Papa won the bet. The words were “FOR SALE, BABY SHOES, NEVER WORN.” A beginning, a middle and an end!” --Arthur C. Clarke

I then challenged my students to write their own short, short stories. Below you will find a few examples of what they produced.Matthew Isom, English teacher

Short short stories

Chloe Curtis Grade 11

Looking Up at the LightMacie RubleGrade 10

Chance CrockettGrade 11

Chloe Curtis Grade 11

My Vacation

Spot in Mexico

Elizabeth Perez-Quintero

Grade 11

FreedomMacie Ruble

Grade 10

Photography8