Magpie

The Bryn Mawr Middle School Literary Magazine

2015 Front Cover: Sophie Fuchs Back Cover: Naomi Fotenos Editorial Staff 2015: Lyndsey Brown, Charlotte Crawford, Cara Denton, Sophie Fuchs, Zoe Leonard, Katie Lundberg, Rita Metsopoulos, Lex Miller, Lillian Naill, Mason Philippe-Auguste, Elizabeth Sacktor, Maya Shah, Ruby Tyson, Sarah Zhang Contributors: Maria Louisa Aversano, Anna Bakina, Lucie Boucher, Vanessa Brecher, Meredith Broadus, Sarah Brooks, Lyndsey Brown, Jessica Bryan, Brynn Cross, Celeste Cullors, Cara Denton, Mardi Dittmar, Astri Doub, Gabrielle Forbes, Naomi Fotenos, Sophie Fuchs, Katherine Gillies, Jessie Gumtow, Grace Harlan, Tahra Khanuja, J’nai Knox, Jesper Kwon, Sophie Leheny, Sydney Leyba, Zoe Leonard, Lex Miller, Leah Mitchell, Sophie Mogol, Bella Motsco, Lillian Naill, Mason Philippe-Auguste, Jenna Resnick, Faith Rhodes, Elizabeth Sacktor, Katrina Salmon, Maya Shah, Cammy Suntha, Michelle Tang, Kavya Uppalapati, Isabel Verheyen, Paige Warren, MaryKat Weigman, Camille West, Grace Williams, Riley Woods, Sarah Zhang Middle School Faculty: Beth McDonald, Katie Walsh

The Stranger in Our Midst The word spread throughout our patch. There is a stranger in our midst. We turn our faces to get a glance. On a tall and lean stalk, it towers above. There is a stranger in our midst, Whose petals red as blood, contrast against the sun’s yellow. On a tall and lean stalk, it towers above, With long, pointed leaves of a faded green. Whose petals red as blood, contrast against the sun’s yellow, In a patch of pale, purple-blue ones With long, pointed leaves of a faded green, And us with our small, round, glossy, green leaves. In a patch of pale, purple-blue ones, For that is what we are, a patch of periwinkle. And us with our small, round, glossy, green leaves, We’re forced into the background when a red tulip grows. A Pantoum by Sophie Leheny \ by Sophie Leheny.

My America, My Baltimore Monologue

Every night, while I sleep I hear the sounds of gunfire. By now, I have gotten used to the sound of it. For of my 14 years, I, Nevaeh Carter, have lived in Baltimore. I feel like I have only seen the bad side of it, only the bad side of America.

Every day, before I walk to school with my brothers and sisters, my mom always tells me to stay safe, be alert and know that God is with you. I didn’t understand what that meant until now. When I walk to school every morning, I walk through what some people think is the gruesome, ghetto part of Baltimore. To me this is my home. I see fights occurring or robberies happening. It amazes me sometimes to know that we live in such a cruel world, but this is my Baltimore. But I still believe that MY Baltimore is more than the fights, robberies or what you see on TV.

I believe that God is telling me to change MY Baltimore. When I watch the news of black men getting shot every day across the country, I sometimes wonder, are we really free? Free from violence? Free from a new form of slavery? By the looks of this, it doesn’t feel like it.

When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I tell them that I don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer, or even the next Beyoncé. So, I tell them that I want to be the change that we seek, that I want to change my Baltimore, and my America.

I know now that we will never be free from the violence, but I do know that we can always make improvements.

by Camille West

by Jessica Bryan

The Drifter You may have heard of her You may have not She drifts between all people Stuck endlessly in between Maybe you don’t see those groups And maybe you do But there they are in her mind Lots and lots of groups She is the vine drifting through the flowers by Anna Bakina The drifter has lost her passion She is starting to give up For she doesn’t have a real true friend Or as others say best friend She walks around outside, wondering Who shall I sit with now? She walks and walks and walks Thinking, have I done something wrong? For she sees everyone fitting in But she is sticking out She sits and wonders, who am I? Just waiting for someone Just waiting for someone to come, and say it’ll be all right She is the drifter, the person in between

For in the word the drifter, she floats between the “f” and “t” But that is not important, for who will really care? She’s looking for that shoulder Who will really care? But who is she to trust With everybody lying? Saying I am your true friend The next day, they don’t care She walks between the shadows Where people mistake her for someone she’s not She may seem happy But that’s not how she feels She is the drifter by Anna Bakina

i thought i could write a poem

i thought i could write a poem about teen angst

then i realized:

i’m not kurt cobain and it isn’t 1991

between you and me i don’t actually know

what teen spirit smells like

the best time of the day is between midnight and 4am

no one bothers you as long as you keep your lights off

and door closed

because everyone knows with the lights out it’s less dangerous

i think i’m clever sometimes

but i know i’m really not and i should really stop

narrating my life with lyrics

by Jessie Gumtow

Love Love is powerful Love is kind Be my friend And I will try The roller coaster of life Will take us far But I hold you close by my side So I can protect you from the bump ahead As long as you love me As long as you care I’ll do anything for you I will go anywhere! I love you You are my sun and my moon You are the beats of my pulse And the rhythm of my heart You are my sky you are my stars We will never be apart! by Grace Williams by Grace Williams Music Music, a complicated art full of emotional notes with colors bursting in all directions. Each piano note, a story full of work and practice. A creative masterpiece. by Maya Shah

Freedom

I stand in front of the mirror, gazing upon my reflection. I see pale skin, large eyes, red lips. I see my dress. It’s a full-length gown that’s a horrible shade of red. It makes my skin too pale, and my entire being seems a delicate as the mirror that I stand in front of, easily smashed if enough force is applied. I hate it all. I don’t want to be here, in this gown, at this hall, playing in this concert. I never wanted any of this. My instrument was meant to be a small thing, picked up at a young age and then disposed of once another interest was found. I never counted on my parents. I look toward the mirror and begin to draw. Another girl comes to life, one who has the same face and body as me, but she is different. She isn’t dressed in a garish red gown. Instead, she wears ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Her hair isn’t pinned to her head in a severe bun but is loose on her shoulders, with strands of black woven into the blonde. She carries a violin, but hers showed age and love. Her fingers have the dark marks the fingerboard leaves after practicing for a long time. She smiles at me with a soft smile, her life clearly going the way she wants. An attendant comes in and tells me it’s time. I sigh, dreading this whole ordeal. I pick up my violin; it’s surface almost too shiny. It looks barely older than my new baby cousin. I walk out onto the stage. My hands are sweaty, and I’m afraid I might drop my violin. For a few seconds I wish it would fall and I would be free. I lift the violin to my shoulder and play. To the observer I am playing my soul out. But inside my head I am panicking. My head is filled with fingerings. My fingers fly across the fingerboard and my bow follows them. The entire hall is silent as I play. The audience is captured in the musical web I have strung. Then, in the middle of the cadenza, the violin slips. My sweaty fingers grasp at it and slip. The violin crashes to the floor, the seams splitting and the wood breaking. There is a shocked silence throughout the entire hall. Time seems to stop as everyone gapes at the thing on the floor that was my violin. Then all eyes turn to me. I turn and run off the stage, unable to face them all. I keep on running, past the dressing room where I left my case. I start to giggle. There’s no need for a case now. There’s no violin to put inside it. I run past the other performers and eventually reach the roof. I step onto the ledge. I pull out my bun and the wind whips my hair around my face. My gown flutters in the wind. I put my arms out and breathe in the cool air. I am finally free. by Lillian Naill

by Jessica Bryan

A Personal Account of Nature

Part I

Once upon a time there was a seed. The seed was dropped upon the earth by a bird, and the bird was born into the world from a nest. The nest was located in a tree, and the tree had once grown from a sapling. And the sapling had once been but a seed. This particular seed loved being a seed. She loved who she was, for she knew that someday she would grow. She would grow to be something new, and different, and no one in the world could stop her. Every day she would wait to grow. To see what she would become, and to see what others would think of her once she had grown. Would she be a flower? A tree? Or something completely different? Many told her that she was nothing but a little seed, and therefore not worth the time. And after a while she started to believe it. But then one day a bird came. The bird picked her up and flew away. “Please!” the seed said, “Eat me! At least then I will be of service!” The bird landed on a branch.

“Why do you say that?” The bird put the seed down.

“I am but a seed. Nothing,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want others to hear.

“You are a liar,” said the bird “And if you are not, then you truly do not understand what you are capable of. You are a seed, the beginning of something new. Something unknown and unseen. No one can tell what you are or what you will become.” The bird picked up the seed before she could say anything. The bird laid the seed down in a soft stop of dirt, with lots of light and a little shade. “Now, when I come back I want you to have grown. You will be big and strong and beautiful.” The seed started, but before she could speak the bird was gone.

And since then, the seed couldn’t wait to grow. She would reach for the sun, and when the sun was gone, she would reach for the moon. I must grow, she told herself. I must prove the bird right. She never rested or stopped reaching. She loved being a seed, and she loved to reach. She lifted her soul up to the heavens and left it there. She reached every day until the last. The last day was something she never forgot. It felt different. The earth did not hug her like it used to. The air did not kiss her like it used to. And the ground squeezed her tiny body unlike it normally did. It almost sucked her down. But she fought to keep reaching. She looked up to the sky where she wanted to go. And she saw it falling. The sky could no longer stay as one whole piece protecting earth from the world beyond. It broke into a million little white pieces. And as they fell they were something new. The rain kissed her and the wind hugged her. But this was like a slap. This was painful, and she did not like it. And at that moment, the moment the piece of the sky fell and slapped her. She stopped reaching and fell into the earth into a deep and powerful sleep. She never woke up the same.

Part II

The tree sat on the hill and silently said goodbye to the two girls as they skipped down on their way. They had spent the day picnicking at her base. They climbed her arms and leaves fell. They had laughed and talked for hours. For a while one read a book while the other wrote a story in a journal. These girls reminded the tree of two other girls a long time ago. Hundreds and thousands of years before, two girls similar to these had come and spent their day with him. They read and wrote, they laughed and talked, they were elated to spend their day with him and she with them. The tree had witnessed tens of hundreds of children, adults, and entire families spend their days in her shade. From when she was but a sapling and a toddler wandered up and fell asleep under her small branches, to, not but a few years ago, when a man and a woman made their vows to one another. She had been there for a long time and witnessed villages fall and be rebuilt. The tree had been through storms so horrible that even the most structural homes were ripped to shreds. But even though the tree had been through so much and watched so many lives she wanted more. The tree didn’t want to watch anymore. She didn’t want to listen to conversations, watch the freshly baked pie cooling on the window down the hill from her roots. She wanted to speak in the conversations, eat and smell the pie. To put it quite simply the tree did not want to be a tree. She knew that most trees were happy. Trees in arboretums were perfectly content to sit and wait the hours away. The trees with houses built into them felt joy whenever some little child climbed into their arms. But it wasn’t that the tree didn’t enjoy these simple pleasures, the tree just thought there would be more to do if she was a human. Humans could run and jump. They speak in so many languages. They had names. They were different colors. They were unique, could express their style, personality, opinions. But the tree couldn’t. The tree must merely stand and grow. And then grow some more. Maybe shed some leaves. Then grow them back again. And the leaves were such a mess. Everywhere in the vicinity of her roots, there were leaves. More and more leaves. The tree started to get sick of the leaves. All she ever did was grow more and more, then drop them so she would get more and more leaves every year! What was this feeling inside of her, sadness? anger? No this was more than sadness and anger. This was longing. The tree longed to be away from the leaves. The tree wanted to run, to jump, to dance, to speak, to sing, smell, to taste, to leave, to make decisions! Whilst the tree was caught up in her own astonishment of these new feelings, a storm had been raging. It blew over homes and rained upon people. The storm was moving too. And it was moving fast. It was one of the biggest and fastest storms ever reported. The storm was called Nicole. Nicole whipped through countries. It spattered through cities. Nicole ran her mad angry course until she came to a tree. Just a single tree, its branches blowing around furiously in her winds. Leaves were flying off as if being thrown by an angry child. Nicole looked down upon her next victim. Her tears had flooded towns. Her breath had obliterated monuments. And her anger destroyed lives. She was terrified even of herself. It was she who killed many. She was a murderer. What was she to do with herself? She let out one enormous wail of sorrow and anguish as she flung herself at the earth below. And that was the day the 1000 year old tree who didn’t want to be a tree any longer, who had feelings and hopes and dreams, the tree who had looked after so many, the tree who had created so much life, the tree who had sheltered many a weary traveler in a storm, fell and died, after being struck by a single bolt of lightning. by Elizabeth Sacktor

by Katrina Salmon

Road Trip the horn honks my friends shout i grab my duffle i slam the door my mom yells i run back in i grab my coat i run back out i jump in the back my friends say hi i say hi to my friends i yell bye towards the house we stop by 7-11 we buy chips and drinks

we glide on the beltway the blue of the jeep shines in the sun the traffic fills up and we stop the sun peeks into our eyes we wake up suddenly we see the waves and the sand the people on the boardwalk smile i see the hotel we jump out of the jeep we find our rooms and rest road trip over by Lyndsey Brown

by Faith Rhodes

The Walking Dead Fanfiction I was panting harder and harder as I ran. I ran as fast I humanly could. Sweat was pouring down my dirty face. I felt as if my lungs were going to burst, but I kept running. I wasn’t stopping. I wasn’t giving up. My feet ached. My legs felt like they were going to give out on me. My shoes seemed to drag against the muddy grass. My crossbow was slipping off of my shoulder, but I didn’t dare stop to readjust it. I didn’t have time to look back. All I could do right now was run my little heart out. I finally saw what seemed to be an abandoned house up ahead. I tried to run faster and up to it. I stopped and slid right up against the wall. My heart was palpitating at the speed of light. I slid down the wall and tried to catch my breath, and I hugged my knees to my chest. My head felt heavy and my ears were ringing. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t rest now. I stood up slowly. My legs were very shaky. I readjusted my crossbow and made sure it was easy to grab in case I saw something. I looked out into the distance and immediately ducked down. I thought I had seen a few figures that were limping up ahead, but I wasn’t sure. I slowly rose back up, looked around the wall and peeked again. It was them I saw them. I thought I had outrun them, but I guess I was wrong. They were still very far in the distance, but I couldn’t let them see me. I sprinted to the other side of the house and threw open the beaten door. I slammed it behind me, but not too loudly. I ran over to the window and peeked out carefully. I let out a sigh of relief as I saw that the zombies were limping the other way, wondering where I went. I turned around and shut all of the windows and curtains, and I made sure that the door was locked. I looked around the house. It was obviously very old. The walls looked weak, the paint was peeling, the furniture had collected dust, and there seemed to be cobwebs in every corner. The walls looked like they were once painted a fresh white. It was peeling in multiple places, and it wasn’t very white now. It looked more like a dingy gray. A few pictures hung on the wall. I walked around and looked at some of them. One in particular caught my eye. It appeared to be a portrait of a young girl. She had bright, ocean-blue eyes and soft, blonde hair that tumbled down her shoulders in a series of spiral-like curls. Her cheeks were a rosy pink, and a big blue bow sat on top her head. It looked like she was wearing a blue dress, judging by the puffy blue sleeves that hugged her shoulders and the pearly, fancy collar that wrapped around her neck. I looked away from the pictures and sat down on an old couch. Dust rose from it as my weight shifted against the stiff cushions. I decided whether or not I should sleep in the house. I mean, I had absolutely no idea where I was headed to next. I had lost Daryl and Carl along the way, and I couldn’t risk running into more walkers. I was about to decide when suddenly, I heard a low, raspy moan. The moan seemed to be coming from upstairs. I heard slow and hard thumps coming from the staircase. Uh-oh, I thought. That can’t be…

I screamed in pure horror as I saw the walker that stood on the stairs before me. My heart beat even faster as I heard three more moans. I saw three more walkers slowly limp down the stairs. I was speechless. I felt as if I were about to faint right there. All of them were there, right in front of me. All of them were coming for me. I tried to run out the door, but the walkers had blocked it and were about to circle around me. I covered myself as they came closer. Why was I so stupid as to come into a house with four walkers?! What did I do?! How was I supposed to escape?! If only Daryl were here to help me. Walkers don’t fear anything, so why should you have to? Stay calm and do WHATEVER it takes to get out alive. Daryl’s words echoed in my head. I turned around and looked at the wall. I took a deep breath, drew back my foot, and kicked as hard as I possibly could. The wood didn’t budge. I took a deep breath and kicked again. I kept kicking and kicking, motivated by the moans behind that were getting closer. I kicked one more time with all of my might, and the wood finally gave way. I kept kicking, and the wood kept breaking. Eventually, I made a very large hole. My foot was burning in pure pain. It was absolutely unbearable! I had sprained my ankle before, but the pain wasn’t nearly as close to the pain I was feeling now. I dove through the hole and fell to the ground with a thud. I winced as my bad foot made contact with the hard ground. A searing pain shot up my foot and ankle like a lightning bolt. I held it in pure pain. I felt tears spill over my eyes and onto my blood-stained cheeks. My eyes widened as I saw blood seep through my shoe. I looked up and saw that the walkers were coming through the hole. I tried to stand up but fell right back down. I let out another cry of pain. Is this it? I thought. Is this how I’m going to die? No. I couldn’t. Not today. I attempted to stand up again. I pushed myself off the ground. I put my weight on my good foot and tried to hop away. But I guess I had waited too long because I felt two grimy, raw, bloody hands on my shoulders. I fell yet again and came face to face with the walker. Its face was disgusting and raw. Blood from its yellow, phantom-like eyes dripped onto my face. Skin was peeling all over its face, revealing rotten muscle and more gross skin. The walker hissed in my face, revealing its yellow teeth and rotted out gums. Not to mention its breath made me want to vomit. I prepared myself for its teeth to sink into my neck or shoulder. But before it did that, it locked its eyes onto mine. I mustered up the courage to look into its eyes. I stared right into what appeared to be its ocean blue eyes. Its once soft and blonde, spiral-like hair fell over her shoulders just after and covered her eyes. I noticed that her blue dress was ripped and had a generous amount of blood stains. I looked right back up at her ocean blue eyes for the last time. I closed my eyes as I felt an unfamiliar set of teeth sink into my shoulder, chomping on my skin and muscle. My vision became blurry as I looked at the blood pouring out of my shoulder. I screamed and blacked out. by Grace Harlan

by Faith Rhodes

Dark Whispers A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter 1 “What’s this? Nevermind. The doorbell, Sherlock, the door.” John Watson was meant to be concentrating on a case. He was ignored. He got the door. “Hello, How can I help you?” He looked at the girl in the doorway. She didn't seem in any way distraught. “My brother, Sherlock, I know you can see me.” She walked in and tapped the brunette man. She almost ducked as his hand spun out from under his nose ready to backhand her. Instead she grabbed it and spun it around, pressing his slender fingers between his shoulder blades. “Okay, Sage. Why do you need me? You were dead. There was a bullet hole in your chest”. Sherlock took his sister's arm after she let him go to check her pulse, it was normal. “I wasn’t dead. I was simply in a coma for a year and a half. As for the bullet, it only grazed my lung.” She pulled down her shirt a bit to reveal a scar on the left side of her chest. “I woke up two years ago,” Sage told him. Sherlock looked at the line of pale flesh. Touching it he asked, “Did they get the bullet out? Why didn’t you find me?”

His cold fingers were weird on her chest. She plucked them off. “The bullet’s out. I also thought you might not want me. Now, I want to know who your boyfriend is.”

John stepped forward. “Dr. John Watson, he’s not my boyfriend. You must be the Sage Holmes who I’m always compared to.”

“Umm, sure, not the boyfriend. I'll make a note of that. I don’t see why Sherlock would compare us. Please explain.” Sage sarcastically made a mental note to ask Sherlock about his relationship with John.

“I solve crimes with him. I assume you are like him, mentally, I mean.” John realized how rude that must sound, but Sherlock answered first.

“No, not at all. She was around Mycroft and I most of her life. She may have picked up some tricks, but she does have the advantage when fighting. She takes hand-to-hand combat seriously. I was teaching her how to aim a gun when I fired it at her by accident. She still is great with guns.” Sherlock grabbed his sister and whispered in her ear. “I know I said sorry while you slept, but you couldn’t hear me. So here it is. I’m so, so sorry I shot you.”

“I heard it all in the hospital bed. Your apology, Mycroft’s yelling, I wanted to get up and say, ‘boys I’m fine’, but I couldn’t”. Sage gave her brother’s hand a squeeze.

“Mrs. Hudson, Is the newly vacated room upstairs ready for occupation?” “Yes, Sherlock. Would you like it?” The elderly woman asked. “I would, ma’am. The name is Sage Holmes.” With that she followed the woman upstairs. Chapter 2 Sage walked down stairs in her black, contrast color skater dress and girly Mary Jane wedges.

Her Smith & Wesson revolver and ammunition in an inside pocket of her black, knee length, tulle edged trench coat. She stopped short when she saw her brother conversing with Mycroft. They both turned at the squeak of the door.

“Sage? Is that you? Why are you rooming with Sherlock? I could offer you a place in the secret service. You wouldn't have to be with our imbecile of a brother all the time.” Mycroft got up his black umbrella swinging at his side. He walked towards her as his sibling backed away.

Sage had always felt unwanted and threatened around her oldest brother. Sherlock had always been her comfort and would protect her from any harm. “It’s me alright, I’m glad you’ve come to terms with the facts, Mike.” A smirk pierced her already exasperated face. “I don’t want to work for the government, and I much prefer the company of Sherlock to your maddening presence. Now I recommend you stop trying to knight our brother and get on with your minescule life.” Sage took her brother’s umbrella and propped it outside the door and pushed him out, the door slamming behind him. Sage then turned to John and her brother. “I’m sorry. Did I intrude or ruin a family reunion?” She sat down at the desk pulling out a computer and taking off her coat. Pushing back her dark brown hair, she opened up the news, when Sherlock, looking over her shoulder started to jump up and down.

“Suicide! We have a good one. Nothing’s more exciting than four suicides in two weeks! John put on your coat. You too Sage, put that back on. We have work to do.” Sherlock put on his black tweed coat and blue scarf. He practically danced out the door and almost tripped on the last step down. John ran after Sherlock and Sage followed suit so as not to miss the cab he was sure to hail. He didn’t. He turned in the direction of Scotland Yard and said, “We’ll hail a cab in a bit. I want to know about Sage, I've missed the past two years of her life, and you want to know more about her, John. Sage tell me what's happened,-no, wait, don't. You’re wearing heels. You never wear heels. That means theres something wrong. Heels are as impractical as they are pretty, you always said. Do tell me what's wrong.”

Sage sighed she knew he would be mad, no, practically furious at her. “For the last few years I’ve been working for somebody, like a hit girl I guess. You’d know him. He and I got into this relationship, and I really did love him, I think, but my emotions have been so jumbled recently.

Then, he tried to kill you and he died, although he never actually died. When he came to get me, he said he’d marry me if I told him my last name, the greatest mystery to him. I knew he’d hurt you so I didn’t. He fired me and threw me out. I’m so sorry.” Sage had latched on to her brothers hand as if her life depended on it. It did.

John looked at Sherlock as recognition splashed his face like a billboard. He then looked at Sage, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “Do you mean to say that you dated and almost married Jim Moriarty?” He handed her a tissue as she nodded her head, blinking back more tears.

Sherlock glanced at his little sister, the only person he thought he’d ever love. He loved how she appeared so innocent with her big blue eyes and sweet smile even if her path was always dark and twisted. He had listened to the whole story, always looking straight ahead. Finally, he hailed a cab and they all got in. “Scotland Yard,” he commanded the driver.

Chapter 3 Sherlock walked into the glass plated building attracting the attention of a brunette woman

who glared in his presence. “Freak.” He looked down at his little sister, who seemed to be fuming under the accusation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He was acting calm but on the inside he was angry, angry at Moriarty for taking advantage of Sage, angry at Mycroft for alienating her, but most of all angry at himself for letting his sister go.

“Lestrade wants you in his office, but I’m afraid the girl will have to stay with me. It’s confidential. Even I can’t know.”

Sherlock dragged his sister behind him. “She’s with me. We will need her.” They walked in together. Sage only looked back to give Detective Donovan an apologetic smile.

“Four suicides Sherlock. I assume you have this all figured out. The victims stabbed themselves in the chest then cut out their hearts, but why?” DI Lestrade had given Sherlock a questioning eyebrow when a girl in her early 20’s appeared in his office with him. He mentally questioned, Are they together? She appeared to have been crying and was gripping his hand. “We can come back to that. Who’s this?” Sherlock let go of her hand, noticing her purple nails had dug marks in his skin.

“Detective Inspector, I’m ashamed of you. This is Sage Holmes, his sister.” John looked at Lestrade with laughter in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. The case. Why would three girls and a man kill themselves, nonetheless in that gorey way?”

“Can I see the bodies? St. Barts doesn't have them under lock and key, do they?” Sherlock was already prepared to leave. He did, and Sage and John followed him not getting an answer from Lestrade. As the underground was quickest they swiped their Oyster cards and got on the metropolitan line.

“Um, Sherlock, I know who did this.” Sage looked at the strangely empty car. “Yes, yes, Moriarty did it to get my attention. I know.” He was bored again. “He was in charge, but no.” She put her head down. “Who then?” He was baffled “I did.”

Chapter four Tears flowed freely from both parties’ eyes as Watson watched in shock. “You can’t have

done this. Please tell me you're joking.” He put his arms around his knees, which were pulled up to his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't stop. He was like a drug to me. Every time I killed someone for him he’d give me more. I couldn’t stop. If you have to turn me in the train turns around at the next stop.” She pulled out a list from her pocket. She handed the kill list to him. “Here’s your evidence. I want to plead guilty. I know where he is.”

“I’m not turning you in. You’re NOT a killer. You are a highly trained assassin who was deluded by what she thought was love. I’m on the list yet you didn’t kill me. John is too, he’s not dead. I can't turn you in for the same reason you couldn’t kill me. We are family.” Sherlock looked at his teary sister as she handed her beautiful gun to John. She laid her knife next to Sherlock and put her tranquilizer darts on a window ledge. “You can’t save me. I need to go to prison. It’s what's right. You can kill me if you want. I won’t try to stop you. I have gone far past a forgivable beating. I am broken like the hundreds of hearts I stopped. I don’t even know if I can stop. Please do the right thing. Stop me! Stop me! It’s gone too far. Everyday now I have an itching to go back to my old, murderous life. Please make it stop!” Tears flowed out of her eyes, sadness burning into the onlookers’ souls. Suddenly the train stopped. “She wants you to kill her, you know.” He wore a gray suit and his tie looked blood splattered. “Since she’s been gone the dirty work has been so ….. Sloppy.” “Get away from my sister, Moriarty.” Sherlock pushed him off of Sage. He had been holding her. “You can always come back, Sage Holmes. I knew your name all along. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. To be honest, I really do love you. You complete me, and I know, oh baby, I know that you miss me. I complete you too.” He grabbed her hand and spun her towards him. Blatant enjoyment played on his face.

In his arms, Sage felt almost as safe as she did with Sherlock. Sherlock saw it as peace washed over her face as Moriarty held Sage. He could see he was gentle with her. That he really did care. “Have her. I can’t protect her forever and I really don’t deserve her. Take care of Sage. She’s the best sister ever. I’m glad she came to visit me. I’ve hurt her far too much. Just, don’t even think of hurting her anymore. Come on John, we have to clean our flat.” He turned and walked away, tears in John's eyes as he saw how much effort it took to say those words. They both looked back one last time.

Their arms were around each other and their earlier embrace had pulled closer, had become more intimate.

“I’m going to kill that weasel if it's the last thing I do,” John vowed. by Katherine Gillies

The Worst Punishment I’ve Ever Received

As a child, punishments were few and far between. However, there is one punishment that I still remember now and will never forget. In first grade, I had made friends with many children in my class, boys, girls, and even the teacher. There was one child, though, Benjamin Davidson, (such a snobby name) who didn’t like me, and trust me, the feeling was mutual.

On one particular Wednesday afternoon, my dislike for him grew even stronger. The class was taking a pop spelling quiz, and Benjamin's mother, the teacher of our language arts class, was giving it. Mr. Wilson, the school’s principal, called Mrs. Davidson to the office, so she left us alone saying, “I’ll only be back in a minute.” Mrs. Davidson, being a very wonderful and extremely brilliant teacher, left a class full of first graders alone with the answer key to our spelling quiz open on her desk. Let me again remind you how extremely brilliant Mrs. Davidson is.

No one did anything for a hot minute, because again, we were only first graders, and we didn’t know what to do. Soon enough, though, Benjamin stood up, looked around and walked to Mrs. Davidson’s desk. My eyes followed his every move as I watched him walk to her desk. He then took the manilla folder off the book and looked at the answer key. I was shocked! I didn’t expect Benjamin to do something like this! He then went back to his desk and acted as if nothing happened.

Mrs. Davidson walked in and asked if everything was alright, and Benjamin especially, answered with a proud, “Of course.” I looked around at my fellow classmates: Tyler, the tattle-tale, Emily, the one who couldn’t keep a secret, even Isaac the teacher’s pet, and nothing! These kids weren’t saying anything! I was infuriated! The nerve of Benjamin to act like nothing had happened made me so angry with him! I raised my hand and told Mrs. Davidson what Benjamin did, and she didn’t believe me! The nerve of this woman! I bet she was just protecting him because he was her son! I walked up to her desk and showed her exactly what Ben did, and then she said, “And now you just did it. Go sit in the timeout chair.”

I was even more than infuriated by this: first she didn’t believe me, and then she put me in

timeout! The fact that I was put in timeout wasn’t even the worst part. The fact that Benjamin Davidson didn’t get punished for his inexcusable actions was the part I couldn’t stand! I was wrongfully punished, and in timeout, as he sat freely in his chair!

I still see Benjamin till this day, and even though I don’t dislike him as much as I did then, I will never forget that Wednesday afternoon in first grade. by J’nai Knox

by Sophie Fuchs

Rush

Chapter 1: Sara

First, we have to go back three months. I was walking down the street, like any normal teenage girl. Rushing to get to my piano lesson. I remember my mother saying that if I, Sara, or the teacher, Carol, was late one more time, she would take away my phone permanently. I saw a car coming, but I knew I could make it to the curb in time. I was halfway across the street, and the car was coming closer by the second. I should have known better. Let’s just say I over estimated my speed by about three seconds. I know what you might be thinking. How can a girl that is supposed to be dead, be writing? Well, in the beginning, I thought that too. It’s a crazy thing, actually. Some things you might need to know are the following. First, I was a victim of a hit-and-run accident. I don’t know who hit me. Second, my family found me 15 minutes later as soon as my piano teacher contacted my parents saying that I had not arrived yet. As soon as they found me, they were in absolute shock. Third, I was buried with my diary. I still cannot comprehend how this whole thing works, but it does. The thing I really cannot understand is how you got my diary. Don’t try to understand it is what I tell myself.

Chapter 2: Carol

I didn’t mean to hit her! I was rushing; I had to get home to teach a piano lesson! I don’t even know whom I hit, but I have to keep driving. Teaching piano is my only job, and I can’t lose another job. The student’s mother told me that if I, Carol, or her daughter, Sara, was late one more time, I would be fired. I cannot get fired. If I do, I won’t only lose my job, but I will lose custody of my son as well. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to help the girl I hit. If I do, I will have to go to court, most likely be proven guilty, and lose custody of my son. My own mother and father stopped calling me, sending me cards, or even visiting me. They think that the divorce is my fault. I try to tell them that it is not, but they don’t believe me. He is never around.

All I know is that I need to get home to my piano lesson with Sara, and then take James, my son, out to dinner for his belated birthday dinner. I am such a bad mother. I was so busy that I forgot his birthday. He said that was the last straw, and now he is going to have to “try his very hardest to accept me.”

Chapter 3: James

Where the heck is Mom? She has been acting so weird the last few days. First of all, she forgets my birthday. All she has to do is teach a couple of notes to this girl named Sara, and she gets paid for it. It’s not even like she can keep a steady job anyway. It’s like every month she gets a new one! She’s also really embarrassing. Like, she will come to pick me up from school, listening to her 80’s music really loud. So loud you can hear it from outside the car. She says that she “tries” but I always say, “Not hard enough!”

I asked her why I couldn’t just spend forever at dad’s house. When I did, she just ran into the other room and broke down crying. I was just asking her a simple question! Geez. I can never catch a break.

Chapter 4: Sara

You honestly do not understand how much I miss my family right now. I know that I am in heaven, which is literally “The Paradise”, but there is still something inside me that makes me feel sick whenever I think of them. I’m not really mad at the person that hit me. The worst thing is that I blame myself. I never should have been rushing anyway. How important is a phone? Just think, I wouldn’t have had a phone, but I would have had a family. Oh yeah, and I would have not died.

Why, why did I have to run! I could have just gotten there just a little bit late. Right now, I am sobbing tears huge tears on my diary. My dad would have called these “umbrella tears”. That was because our favorite book was about a giant who always got really sad, and then cried tears that needed umbrellas for people to go outside. No offense to the author, but it was a pretty stupid book.

Chapter 5: Carol

It’s just not fair. She was too young. I still don’t know whom I hit, but I really don’t want to find out. I know it was a teenage girl, but it all happened so fast. I was flying down the road, and I thought she stopped at the curb. By the time she started walking, it was too late.

Chapter 6: James

Mom was late coming home, again. I’m sick and tired of this. So let’s recap; she forgets my birthday, she’s late to my “birthday” dinner so we lost our reservation, and now I feel like she is giving me the cold shoulder. I did nothing wrong! She always does this kind of stuff.

One time in third grade, we had to say what we loved most about our parents. I had this whole big long list for dad, front and back, but nothing for mom. Finally, my teacher was so concerned that my mother was being actually cruel to me, she called he and told her about the love sheet. That got me grounded for two weeks.

Chapter 7: Carol

They found me. They were going around the neighborhood, looking for who the driver was. I hit her at a stoplight, so there was a camera. They traced down the license plate. I will have to face trial, and most likely lose custody of my son they said. This all happened while James was at school, so his father has to take him home. I called him to assure that he would, but he can’t because he is “at work”. I know what “at work” means.

I was married to him for six years! At work means either at a friend’s house or at a bar. No one knows that they found me yet. I’m so scared for the trial. I don’t even know why I am scared because I know that I will be proven guilty. The accident may have looked like my fault, but I don’t think that it is. And the crazy thing is, I still don’t know who I hit!

Chapter 8: James

So, I literally got home from school today, and mom wasn’t there. I turned on the TV, and the news was on. It was talking about some hit-and-run accident that took place really near us. Super boring, so I changed the channel. But right before I did, I saw a picture of mom’s car and a picture of our house. I looked outside the window, and there was a camera crew filming me through the window! I picked up the phone and called dad, but he didn’t answer. I called him about 15 times, but none of them he picked up. Finally, I called mom. She picked up on the second ring and said that she would get home as soon as she could. That’s when I realized something.

I called my dad a lot of times, and he never picked up the phone once. I called my mom one time, and she picked up on the second ring. Not only did she pick up, but also she said she would stop what she was doing to come home to me. As soon as she arrived home, I gave her the biggest hug I ever gave somebody in my whole life. I said three words that I never thought that I would even murmur to her. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I’m sorry for never talking to you, or trusting you, or being embarrassed by you.”

And she uttered back, “I’m sorry too.”

Epilogue:

Sara continued to live the rest of her days in heaven, and later was accompanied by her family and friends. During the trial, Carol found out whom she hit. Both Carol and Sara’s mother cried “umbrella tears” during the trial. Carol faced trial, and was proven innocent, after explaining why she was rushing home. James made the decision to live fully at his mother’s house. So everything may have not worked out as planned, but it did work out; and that is really how life works. by Cammy Suntha

The Burning

The men came to take me away three nights after the incident. I knew about them though. It was common knowledge that Margaret Bell was a witch and was going to get burned. My mother had completely disowned me and I was living on the streets. But I knew they were catching up to me, so I wasn’t surprised when they woke me up as I was sleeping under a rag with the few possessions I had left. I didn’t struggle as they grabbed my arms and hauled me off to wherever the witches go before death.

It had been decided that I was a witch that day on the boat. My older brother had gone to go out fishing in the bay and had let me tag along. I hopped in the boat along with him and three of his friends. They were all about twenty years of age. I had worn a big navy blue dress that puffed up around me as I sat in the boat. The boat was small and called “The Siren’s Song” . We had started to get going when my brother’s friends found some beer they’d hidden in the boat and started drinking. When they started to get drunk, I asked my brother if we could go back. He laughed and said stuff I couldn't understand. They continued to laugh, yell, and dance around.

I was just sitting on a bench on the edge of the boat looking at the water below, trying to

ignore the fools behind me when suddenly a pair of hands pushed my back. I looked back, and in an instant. I was falling from the boat and into the waves below. I could see a man above me. His face was laughing, and his eyes were the color of the water below me. Pale colored hair curled around his face as it blew in the wind. About the age of twenty. A man who I knew, a man that had promised nothing bad was going to happen on the trip to my brother. The waves crashed around me as I hit the surface, and the water froze my skin. My petticoats and undergarments tugged me down and grew heavier. My skirt billowed and floated around me. I tried to struggle but it was too cold. So I just closed my eyes, hugged myself, and waited for it to be over. I felt the sinking in my body. The cold had taken my feet, and I couldn’t feel them anymore, then my ankles. Soon my entire legs surrendered and were gone. I just clenched my eyes tighter and waited for it to be over. I could hear people screaming and yelling as if they were angry and scared. But there were more people now. Not just my brother’s friends. There were lots of men and a woman crying. That’s all I remembered. Then, the lights faded. My mind gave way to the cruel fate of death and everything disappeared .

Later, I had been told that somehow I had survived. I had floated to the surface and bobbed

there until I was rescued by a small boat. But I had been convicted of the crime of witchcraft. My mother was ashamed, and my brother refused to speak to me. Our father had left us years before, but I was sure if he had stayed he would have beaten me.

The men pushed me into a tiny cell and spat upon my face as they locked the door. I

huddled in a corner and wound my blanket tightly around my cold bones. I hadn’t eaten in days, so I felt shaky all over. It was dark in the cell for the moon wasn’t out. I felt around the cell for something, anything that would help. My hands felt a small box. I picked it up and tried to open it. It had two matches left in it. They were a bit soggy, but still good. I tried to light one to warm myself up by it just snapped. So I grabbed the other one and prayed it would light. It lit for a few seconds, and I was warm in its dancing light but the happiness soon ended when a big gust of wind came in through the window and blew it out. I huddled up in the corner as my tears froze to my face and cried myself to sleep. For I knew in the morning, I would die.

I slept for about two hours before another pair of hands shook me awake. I was greeted with a gruff voice from a big hairy man. He had a big burly beard and cold gray eyes that showed no emotion whatsoever. His hair was dark and covered with an old cap. His skin was pale and covered in scars. The big hands grabbed my thin arms and shook me. I got up and left my blanket in the cell. I would not be needing it where I was going. The man led me out of the shack where my cell was and into a courtyard. The place was filled with people. Mostly men but a couple women in there too. One woman especially stood out to me, my mother. Her eyes met mine, but instead of looking saddened or disappointed, her green eyes were dark and cold. She had no sympathy for me at all. I was guided through the crowd past my mother to the center. Instead of looking down, I looked them all in the eye. Each and every one. I wanted to yell at them to scream, but I kept my cool. Their eyes met mine and they instantly looked down. Familiar faces started to show. Old friends, enemies, my brother. None of them had a shred of sympathy anywhere on their faces. As we got to the center of the crowd there was a clearing. And in the clearing a big pile of wood planks, sticks, old wagon wheels, and anything else flammable. and atop this mountain of kindling there stood a stake. I knew what it was for. It was for my demise.

The man pulled me up atop the mountain and took out and old thick rope. He tied my arms

and legs to the stake and stepped back, admiring his work. I tried to struggle but the bondings were tight, no hope of escape. I looked around me for something, anything that would help me escape. The sun had not yet risen and it was mostly dark, except for the torch traveling through the crowd in the hands of a tall man with pale, curly hair and eyes the color of the water. He approached me, tied to the stake. I kept his gaze.

“Please...” “You Must Be Finished” “I’m your sister...” “I Have No Sister. You Are A Witch!” His words struck me. My eyes pled “Don’t Do This!” But he broke my stare and looked

down at the wood below me. He dropped the torch and it was like time stopped. I watched the torch as it hit the pile and grew. It grew until blocked him. The fire raced around me and covered my view of the people around me. The faces melted into the flames. My brother stoods there and watched. Not moving. Soon everything was a big orange blur. I was getting warm and I smiled. I looked up at the sky now filled with stars. I laughed. I screamed. “TAKE ME!” “I AM WAITING!” “JUST DO IT!” My mouth opened up to another glorious scream of triumph. My life was ending and I felt exhilarated. My feet were burning but I didn’t care. Soon my bonds burned away, but I did not run. I danced in the fire. Soon my legs gave way and I was burning to a crisp. The stars were beautiful. “BEAUTIFUL!” “I WILL BE BEAUTIFUL! LIKE THE STARS! I WILL BE ABOVE YOU ALL!” I will watch them all from my peak in the sky, and I will pity their sad, ugly little lives. On my knees, burning, I closed my eyes and let the warmth cover me as I sank down, down into death. And away from the horrid cruel human life and into something more, much, much more. by Elizabeth Sacktor

Dragon Gold: A Story of Dragons, Dwarves, Treasure and Greed

By A.R. Blackwood Based off of “Over the Misty Mountains Cold” from the Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

A gleaming golden hoard. Such words are small for the giant mountain of gold, glittering in

the light of the torches. A dwarf could stand there for ages, basking in the golden glow. He could spend decades gazing at the coins, centuries examining the armour, and millennia gaping at the piles upon piles of gems and jewelry. But he would spend all of time gazing upon one gem, The Arkenstone, found in the heart of the mountain, the king’s jewel. No stone in all the land could compare to the shimmering gem that captured and enslaved the hearts of the king, and his subjects alike. Some say that is why the kingdom fell one lonely night. Evil came in with glittering scales, and fiery breath. Smaug, the destroyer of towns, came in the night. His anger smashed the town of Dale as the bells rang, and the children sobbed. The winds moaned and the pines roared as dwarves and men perished under the flame and feet of the great dragon. The mountain was lost under a gold, pale moon while the flames danced with a life of their own. The dwarves fled their home and strayed across the land, mourning their loss. There was one dwarf who vowed that nothing, neither dragon nor the greed of men, would stop him in his quest to reclaim his home, where the the dungeons ran deep and the caverns were dim from lack of light. He would kill the dragon who lay in the golden mountain of gold, basking in the glow of wealth and beauty. He would slay it where it lay, on a golden hoard only worthy of a king. He would claim that hoard for himself and nothing would get in his way.

by Lillian Naill

by Michelle Tang

The Bird of Wisdom I whipped around, and there she was. Standing with her hands on her hips, her lips in a

snarl, and her eyes were glazed over. She just looked paralyzed, but it was much, much worse. She was dead. The Miscreant had gotten her. He had gotten the only person I felt close to. The only person I had left. He had gotten my best friend. At once, I knew. I had to vanish. For I was next.

As long as I can remember, a man called the Miscreant had vandalized property, robbed houses and stores, and committed fraud. But it was just the other day when he started killing. By now over half the town was dead. And there was nothing we can do but run.

I gathered up my possessions and started running. I ran past my best friend. I ran out of the shop. I ran past my house. I ran past all the dead bodies stacked upon each other, my legs aching, my breath heavy. I was terrified. I ran all the way to the end of town. Then, I stopped, unable to continue, but unable to go back. I kept going, I didn’t want to end up like everyone else, dead.

*****

I have been running for almost 17 hours and it’s dark, very dark. About midnight. But I will

not stop, I cannot stop. But I do. For a short moment. Just enough to take a breath. I realize, I forgot to pack food. All I have is two outfits, a bottle of water, a rubik’s cube, and a bracelet that my sister made for me when I was little, all bundled in my knapsack. I drink only a little bit of water to be sure I will not run out, and I start running. I keep running until morning.

When I reach a stream I stop again. By now my water is nearly empty, and I reach down to collect some water and then seal the cap on tight. As the sun begins to rise, it is the first time I think of my family since they died so many years ago. I think of how I wish they were with me, and how they would disapprove of my running away, even under the circumstances. How I loved my family so, and now in this awful place, they would make everything better. The sun rise is putting an evil glow on the setting. The dead patch of grass in the middle of the dense forest. Listening to the wolves howling, and the crickets chirping. I cannot stay any longer.

As a shadow crosses my path I look up and see an owl perching on a branch that juts out from a tree. It coos like a dove, not what I expected from an owl of its size, let alone an owl at all. It seemed like it was trying to tell me something, but I disregarded it, I need to keep going.

I no longer run, but walk, quite slowly I might add, too afraid to move. But I walk on. It is not safe to stay. The Miscreant might search for me here. Knowing I must hurry, I quicken my pace, but not by much. As I tromp along, I notice, high above, a shadow moves swiftly through the clouds. Looking over me like angel. Much to my surprise, the owl has followed. The majestic bird veers closer to me so it is just above me now. It circles around my head and pauses in front of me, like it is begging me to stop. I do. It lowers itself to the ground. It stares into my eyes, like it’s digging through me to find my deepest secret. But I won’t let that happen. I step over it and head on.

The owl lifts its wings and flies clumsily to me. It rests on the sack on my back which adds enough weight for me to stop. Rapidly ,I turn. The owls is thrown off. I stick my hand deep into the bag and throw the first thing I grab at the stupid bird.

“Go away!” I holler. The bird squawks at me and backs off, but it takes the item with it. I have no choice but to follow it, for it has my bracelet. Such a smart creature, acting so stubborn.

The bird soars briskly in front of me, but I keep up. At one point it crosses a lake, so I swim to the other side. It rests down on a large stone and lays the bracelet in front of it. I take this as a sign of surrender. As I approach the bird, it looks at me, and then to the other side of the lake from where we came. As I look up, I notice what had been oblivious to me before. There is a meadow before me, beautiful flowers and trees. The sun makes the lake sparkle like the stars in the sky. As I examine the site once more, I notice a shack built of twigs, much like a bird’s nest. I turn to the bird and it keeps its eyes pinned on me.

“Thank you,” I say, realizing that this is where I am meant to be. The bird has brought me here for a reason, for it is the bird of wisdom, a rumor I had never thought to be true, until now. And the Miscreant can never find me here. There will be no more running. I am finally safe, for now. by Jessica Bryan

by Michelle Tang

Wings She is an angel She has wings I'll dance If she starts to sing I'll climb If she starts to fly To watch her soaring in the sky She'll come If I'm falling down She'll help before I hit the ground And if I fall without a sound She still is there to catch me She has no halo I know why I see When she wants to cry I'll stay When her wings will fold

To be a human hand to hold She'll shine When the end's in sight And burn the shadows with her light She doesn't know she shines so bright And she can always save me Her wings are darkened I can see I know When she hides from me I'll kneel To break her disguise And take her hands off of her eyes She'll stand And we'll start anew But there's no damage to undo For angels' wings can be black too As long as she is with me

by Zoe Leonard

Perfect Street

Once, there was a street. It had exactly fifteen lush green trees right down the middle of the median, all in an orderly line. Neat rows of identical houses filled up the street and people walked, talked and smiled on the perfectly paved sidewalks. In all the houses there were exactly four people, no more, no less. Mother, father, sister, brother. And one dog, of course. All the lawns were mowed on Saturday, and flowers were watered everyday at 3 o'clock on the dot, not a second late. The birds began singing at six in the morning, and the sun always rose fifteen minutes later. It was stagnant. Nothing ever changed.

Except for the mailbox, nine houses down and to the left. Everyday, the people would wake up, eat their identical breakfasts, and check the mail, which

was always there, right on time. But that mailbox, that mailbox! It was right outside the one house that no one lived in. No

one went near it, ever! It was simply an unspoken rule. Then, one day, Caroline, as all the blond-haired, three and a half foot tall little girls were

called, who lived right across the street from the mailbox, went up, and touched it. In a flash, she turned into a girl with thick, curly, black hair and she even grew a little! Her

perfect little pink pleated dress that never wrinkled turned into an all too loud neon green shirt with tacky plaid shorts to match, and her tiny little sandals turned into electric blue sneakers.

For Caroline, it wasn’t even a question anymore. Everything was wrong here, the sky too blue and grass too green, the smiles too big and the laughs too fake. And so for the first time in several years, Perfect Street had a change.

Of course, no one noticed she was gone. They now knew a life where all the houses only had three people, mother, father, and son. There were no more little girls on Perfect Street, nor had there ever been.

Then, on Tuesday, at ten, when the dogs all went on a walk, Fido, as all the dogs were known as, from two houses down, went over to the mailbox.

Soon, there was a huge pit bull who promptly trotted away. But that was okay. Because there were no dogs on Perfect Street! Everyone had one white

cat instead. Then they had birds, but that didn’t last long, then lizards, and then finally no pets at all. Then, one day, there was a different sort of change on Perfect Street. A house disappeared, after the birds stopped chirping at six. Then another, when someone

didn’t mow their lawn. It went on and on, until there were only two houses left, the very first house on Perfect Street, and the Mailbox House. And then, there were no houses at all.

So when you’re walking down a road, and you see an old mailbox with vines growing up its side, covered in moss, and painted with pink polka dots on zebra striped checkerboard, remember what was once here. Think back to Perfect Street. Was it really that perfect after all? by Alexandra Miller

by Faith Rhodes

by Kavya Uppalapati The Beach We step out of the Wrangler on the sizzling pavement, Getting our boogie boards and chairs from the back. I forgot my towel at home. I got one from the hotel. We walk down the wooden path to the dig our feet in the prickly sand. We scavenge for a spot close up, right under a lifeguard post for shade. I step out onto the wet sand, waiting for the tide. The ocean drowns my feet with shells and salt. I wade in the freezing cold water,

waiting for the my body to adjust its temperature. As soon as possible, I get out of the water. I reach for my boogie board and rush back in. I surf a few waves. then walk back up to the blanket. I snatch my towel and lay down. We pack everything up and run to the boardwalk, My brother and I get ice cream. My sister gets an Italian Ice. We step back in the Wrangler. We drive back to the hotel. I take a shower and watch TV. I go to sleep in the hard polyester bed and dream about the next day to com

by Lyndsey Brown

Lovesick Diving into the great sea, my heart begins to beat free. The sun is up. The moon is tucked. Where else would I be? Deeper and deeper, out I venture, water past my knee. No need to fear, go beyond to hear the waves whispering your name. Under you go to listen more of the ocean’s calling song. The longer I stay,

the more I understand, this is where I belong. Fleeting bubbles slip out fast, past my blue hued lips. Entwined with the seaweed hair, I watch the green slip by. Green and blue, the colors that’ll be, my own very fuse. As the sun goes down, the moon arises. I realize with a start, I’ve been drowned in the very love, I thought I’ve locked in my heart.

by Sarah Zhang

by Faith Rhodes

Splash Splash! You just hit the water Every bit of nervousness leaves you You’re cruising like an otter You’re sailing through the blue You’re swimming the hundred free The first lap is almost done Your body is as hot as a cup of tea because you’re number one You’re at the third wall You’re about to make the flip You’re flying like a baseball You feel the cold water drip, drip You see the flags and now the finish You touch the pad hard and powerful and you start to feel kind of thinnish You feel that race was quite delightful and you’re floating out of breath feeling joyful by Isabel Verheyen

Vinyl listen to the oceans listen to the waves by Faith Rhodes listen closer listen to the sands listen to the fish listen to the forest listen to the trees listen close. listen to the wood listen to the birds listen to the cities listen to the buildings listen closer listen to the cars listen to the people listen to the bands listen to the music listen closer listen to the recordings listen to the vinyl by Lyndsey Brown

by Sarah Brooks

Dreaming of a Unicorn

My best friend in the whole entire world believed in something so strange. I’m pretty sure something no one has ever thought of someone believing in. She believed in Unicorns. She believed in Unicorns like she believed in Santa Claus. (As a side note, she believed in Santa too). She always said if a parent was bad to their child, they would be punished. This punishment isn’t as bad as you think. The Unicorn would just prank them, like making them step on dog poo. This girl’s name is London. One day, London and I were playing baseball in her backyard. I was the pitcher, and London was the batter. I threw a fastball at London, and she missed the ball by a few centimeters. When she hit the ball, it went in the wrong direction and hit the glass door that led to the backyard. We both stared at the door in disbelief. We knew that London’s parents would be really mad. We still stared at the door until London’s dad came in.

“What...what happened here?” asked London’s dad Jerry. “Sorry it was my fault. I’ll leave.” I said as I went through the fence door. “Sorry dad we didn’t mean to do it” London said. “Go to your room. You are grounded until this gets fixed and NO SWEETS!” said

London’s dad. London cried as she went to her bedroom. Jerry started cleaning up the glass from the door.

Then she looked up and smirked. “The Unicorn will get you…” she turned away and walked to her room.

Long story short, Unicorns are actually real, and her dad ended up going to the hospital for a while because the prank made him lose his sanity. If you are wondering what the Unicorns did, well. they messed up Jerry’s office. Jerry was an extreme neat freak, so when he saw this, he went insane! London felt a little badly, but she wasn’t grounded anymore.

The next morning, London woke up and went down the stairs. The glass door was fine. It was all a dream.

The end! by Kelli Reaves

by Mardi Dittmar

A Short Story of Which Cannot Be Described There was baby girl. She was born healthy. Her family smiled. She smiled. She smiled at the hospital ceiling. She smiled at her mother. She smiled at her father. She did not smile at the girl in the corner. There was a girl in the corner. She did not smile. She had lost her parent’s love. She would not smile. She frowned at the baby. And the baby frowned back. But the mother smiled. There was a smiling mother. The smile was her mask. She knew she was weak. She knew she was sick. She felt her heart beating too slowly. But she loved her two children. So she smiled at her husband. There was a smiling husband. He wasn’t smiling at the baby. He was smiling at the nurse. He winked. She winked. He was smiling at his victory. He smiled at the nurse.

There was a nurse. She felt betrayed. The man she loved left her. She had no one to love. So why should the mother? She smiled at the man who was not the man she loved. There was a man. Sitting in his room. He was crying. He found her with another. Her sister wanted him. He felt his heart racing. He looked down at the photo of a girl. There was a girl. She was crying in the bathroom. Her sister had hooked up with him. She had been jealous. So she hooked up with the other one. There was the other one. He sat on the curb strumming his guitar. He had loved her. She had used him. A family walked out of the hospital. He saw the baby. He smiled. The baby smiled back.

by Liza Plant

by Sophie Mogol

All because of Lily

There are times when you feel like, “What’s the point of life?” I felt that almost everyday. But, there’s always someone in your life that changes everything like the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella. I had one, but that was way back in 1987. The first day of fifth grade at Evergreen Elementary School didn’t go so well. I had just moved from Korea to Connecticut because my father had gotten a job here at Yale. I wore jeans and a t-shirt to the first day of school. My mother dropped me off, “You’ll do great Jungha. Focus on school, do not worry what others say to you.” I nodded and walked off to the big, giants school in front of me. My teacher was a pretty lady with the goldest hair I had ever seen. I wanted to touch it, but I didn’t think she would let me. Her name was Mrs. Allen. She had a huge grin on her face. All the girls in my school wore pretty dresses and wore ribbons in their hair. I wanted to wear those clothes and wear pretty things, but my parents were running low on money. We didn’t have enough to buy things like that. I sighed and looked for my name on the desk. I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t read English, so I couldn’t read the names on the desk. I had no choice but to walk to my teacher and ask where my desk was. I walked up to her and tapped her arm, and she turned around and said something funny to me. I did not understand, but I pointed to myself and a desk. “Need table.” I knew she understood my inability to speak English when she nodded. She held my hand and helped me find my seat. I was in the front row next to a frizzy dressed girl with golden curls in her hair. I touched my plain, straight black hair. I wanted golden curls too. The teacher clapped her hands and

said something I did not understand. I could only understand things like hello, this, that, him, her. Everything else was like wind trying to talk to me, I couldn’t understand, and it flew past my ear like a gust of wind. I sat in class not understanding. I didn’t know what to do, so I raised my hand ,and the teacher called, “Yes, Junga.” It was JungHA. She only said the ah, and there is supposed to be a slight HA. I waved it away in my head and said, “I….no…..understand.” Everyone started laughing except the girl with the golden curls who just looked like she had seen a puppy getting kicked. My teacher quieted everyone and told me to try to keep up. I tried, I really really tried, but it just wasn’t good enough. It was recess, and I walked out of the classroom in the back of the line. The playground was big, but no one came to play with me. That didn’t bother me very much, I just took the book I brought and started reading. A boy with the reddest hair I have ever seen loomed above me. He took the book from my hands, and I stood up to take it back, but he held me in place with his left hand while he held the book in his right. “I can’t understand a THING this book is trying to tell me. This is a boring book, a nerdy one!” He ran away and I chased him. That was my favorite book. I chased and chased, but that just made him faster. I stopped, panting. He was too fast for me. He made a face at me and dropped my book in the sewer. Rage is not strong enough a word to describe my anger. It was a signed copy that my father had bought for me. My fist shook, and I walked up to him and punched him hard in the jaw. I looked up to see his mouth bleeding. I had knocked out his baby tooth…...I think. I sat on the hardwood chair in the principal’s office. I looked down in shame, but not regretting what I had done. The teacher put his hands together and started to say something that I did not understand. So I shook my head and said, “I can’t understand.” He nodded and picked up the phone to call my mother. My mother arrived ten minutes later, her face filled with worry. She sat down in the chair next to me.The principal said something to her, and she seemed to understand. My mother put my hand on my shoulder and translated, “Your actions have consequences honey. He is giving you a four day suspension.” I was expecting something like that, so I wasn’t surprised. I told my mother what happened at the playground and her eyes turned wide in anger but remained calm. She sighed and told my story to the principle. He nodded and stood up. He said he would talk to him to and try his best to get my book back. Then, my mother took my hand, and we went home. “What has gotten into you? Even though he took your book, doesn’t mean you should knock his tooth out!” my mother yelled. I shrugged, I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. My mother’s voice softened on the way home, and we didn’t talk until dinnertime. After my suspension, the girl with the golden curls came up to me. I had studied my English during my suspension, so I could now speak simple sentences. She held out her hand, “My name’s Lily, what’s yours?”

I took her hand, “Jungha. Nice to meet you.”

She looked down then looked up with a determined look on her face. “Jungha, I would like to help you with your English.”

I smiled. It was the nicest thing anyone has offered me here. “Yes, that would be nice.” She smiled and took out a book and helped me learn my letters better with tricks and grammar. Everyday at recess, we would sit down, and she would tell me everything I needed to know. It was confusing, but I eventually got it. Now, in class I pay attention and do well in school. She did well in school. I think she was the smartest person in class. She was better than Mrs. Allen in my opinion. I am an A+ student with straight A’s on my report card. I figured out my father got good money working at Yale. I was finally able to wear a pretty dress with ribbons and pins in my hair. America wasn’t terrible anymore. My accent slowly disappeared and by high school, I almost had none at all. Lily was always there to help me, and if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be a good student.. It has passed ten years, and I did well in school, thanks to Lily, and was accepted into Harvard University to become a doctor. I had good grades and did well and became a surgeon.. I had my own hospital too. I named it Lily. Just Lily. Lily, a few years ago, was diagnosed with Leukemia, cancer of the blood. Back in 2000, the medicine wasn’t as great as it is today. She couldn’t live. Still Lily was lively and helped me as much as she could. I visited her every day and told her about life. Her last laugh was in 2001, January 3rd. She laughed for the final time, the color washed from her face and she fell, lifeless. I was confused for a while. She was in good health before she was diagnosed with Leukemia. She was a good person and did what she was told and many loved her. I never got why she had to die, I think that mean, red-headed boy from 5th grade deserved to die. I never got my book back. But I still think of how she helped me to this day. I help people with cancer and have a foundation for kids with cancer. I think everyone that knew Lily, misses her. She made a dark and gloomy day filled with sunshine and rain. Now, I think of my accomplishments. My tongue can roll and flick when I talk, I have grown used to many of America’s different things. That’s all because of Lily. This story may be pointless to you, but I don’t care. I’m so sorry if I wasted your time telling you this. But just think for a second how precious and special your life is. Some people are suffering right now with fatal diseases. You’re lucky you’re even here listening to my boring words. But now, I think you should think more about your life and how special it is. You are living and have a life full of people. Meet them and live your life to the fullest. Lily helped me a lot. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you this in English if it weren’t for her. I am living this wondrous, exciting life all because of Lily. by Jesper Kwon

by Faith Rhodes

Just a Phase

Attack me with all you have to show and tell Insult me, threaten me, say that I’ll burn in hell

Or just show pure submission Try to convince me that it’s my decision

Say it’s a phase, say it will pass Claim it’s a bridge that doesn’t last

Or just try to burn it down And watch the ashes fall to the ground

For I know you won’t succeed Never again try to change me

by Mason Philippe-Auguste

Confusion Delusion Profusion Is it all a delusion, this world I’m living in? Where each accomplishment turns into a competition? Where each thought turns into a lie? What is this nest of twisted truths I live in? Each day brings a new challenge, Each challenge comes pain, consuming this world I live in, Each wave brings a fresh skin of wounds yet to be tended. What is this concept that I perceive? Where friends are foes, where foes are what I want to be. Where everything I want is a hair away, Where everything I have begins to fray, decay in the rotting stench of society as my thoughts turns into knives and I, a target on the flee. The head turns into a continuous ‘want’, the life into a continuous ‘shan’t’. Never can I be pleased, never in this strange world of pain I be eased. Always the standards of confusion I exceed, but never the passing grade of normalcy. God help me one in my shoes may cry, but does he really live in the sky? Does he really answer our pleas? The ones I have sent now empty and bleak? One lost of hope as I have now, have turned to the dark of my thoughts I shall. Monsters that grow in the midst of the mind, teeming and feeding on anything they find. My thoughts dark as can be are growing and furnishing off of me. Each day in this confusing world I live, I embrace the pain, no longer this fake happiness I once gained. Each shade of brightness desperately sought turns into sightless wants and needs. Where lies turn into comforts, and truths our heavy anchors. This is the world that I perceive. No love shall I ever receive, for that is a want, never a reality. A delusion of which that is me. by Sarah Zhang by Faith Rhodes

The Price When I was just a little girl I was unaware Of the misfortune laid upon Girls with darker hair Although it's dark and beautiful It grows everywhere And when you're young it gets to you When the kids would stare So I learned to perfect distance To keep them away But I can't hide forever so Let them have their way I'll pinch and pluck and cry and I Do this every day And yet no matter what I do It still wants to stay My mother bought a jar of wax

Put it on my face Ripped it off now look what it has Managed to erase Put it beside your bedside things Give it its own space Next to the jar of vaseline For that crimson trace But now I am just what you want I'm exemplary Pretty, proper, and primmed is what Every girl should be If it won't work the first time I'll Do it painfully I felt I was trapped before but Now I feel I’m free And I believe I'm beautiful Beautiful to me

by Zoe Leonard

by Kavya Uppalapati

I DON'T UNDERSTAND…

I don’t understand why we must fight like animals over silly and unnecessary objects why we have favoritism in this world why people must lie to themselves and people around them why some people cannot get help when they are a diamond in the rough But most of all why people live in neglect and war and poverty why warm-hearted and deserving people don’t have a place to call home why people must feel ashamed of themselves in society What I understand most is why we work better as a whole why people try to find the best of emotions and people why we have ambitions and goals in our lives by Kavya Uppalapati

Dirty Words The F word is not a dirty word It means equal It means right It means Justice It is something we should fight for Equality and Justice for all For All We need to talk Feminism Is Not A Dirty Word The S word is not a dirty word We all feel it It is inside of everyone It can’t be pushed down Or changed No one should try to hide it It is a part of us, with us forever We need to talk Sex Is Not A Dirty Word

The R word is not a dirty word It is real It happens It is hard and it’s not a myth We need to let it out People need to understand it You shouldn’t be scared We need to talk Rape is not a dirty word The D word is not a dirty word We are all part of it We all have it Why try to change it There is no point It doesn’t just need to be accepted It needs to be celebrated We need to talk Difference is not a dirty word

by Elizabeth Sacktor

by Faith Rhodes I see you I see you, even though you don’t see me And how I just wish for it to be enough to be seen I see behind your jokes and your laughs I’ve seen a single glimpse of the scars in your past You try to cover it up and put up a wall But you are beautiful even with it all There are things that you see as flaws And they are things that leave me in awe You like boys, yes that is true And someday a boy will see you how I do So, just wait and you’ll see And when you do, don’t worry about me But, please, don’t let him determine your worth Just look in the mirror and see a beautiful girl And it may not be enough to dream But let it be enough to be seen by Mason Philippe-Auguste

Hunger Games Fanfiction I run past the house, down the dirt road, and out into the woods. I am at Gale’s heels. We run, faster than ever before, through the forest. We are running away. Away from District 12. Away from the Capital. The harsh, cruel Capital. I run, faster than ever before, my drawstring bag bouncing and clattering. I hold my bow, with my arrows slung across my shoulder. We reach the edge of the forest where the electric fence is. Gale slows down and we stop.

“We made it,” he breathes. “Yeah. So what do we do now?” Silence. “We wait,” he says. We sit down and catch our breath. The peacekeepers won’t find us for weeks. Neither will

Peeta. He made it through the Hunger Games twice, but he won’t venture out into the forest if he can help it. Peeta. I almost feel bad, leaving him like this. He won’t like it. He really loved me. The thought makes me shiver. I could never love Peeta. I have Gale. I will always love Gale. Peeta makes me feel... awkward. I could never stay married to him.

“Do you remember, before my first Hunger Games, when you said we could make it out here? Run from District 12. Be free.” I immediately regret saying this. District 12 is a touchy subject, especially with Gale, even though we live here. Some people haven’t gotten over the fact that the Capital was cruel enough to destroy District 12. Our home. They didn’t really know the cruelty they were capable of.

“Yeah.” he says breathlessly. I hear a rustle from the bushes. I look up. “Mutts,” I whisper, awestruck. How did they get here? “Run!” Gale yells. We run as fast as we can, along the line of the fence. I hear Peeta’s voice in my head. “You love me, real or not real?” he whispers to me. I shake my head and keep running. The

mutts are at our heels. They must have escaped the arena somehow. Either that, or the Capital knows we are running. I whip my head around to see where they are. They are now just a silhouette against the dark green trees and bushes we run past.

“Gale!” I shout. He isn’t in front of me anymore. “Gale, where are you?” “Hey, Catnip! Over here!” he whispered. He was hiding behind a large bush to hide from the

mutts. They were the mutts from the arena. I was sure I saw Rue’s eyes on one of them. The mutts vanish. The Capital must have released them. “They were holograms,” he says. I look up. “Yeah. Did you see them disappear?” I ask. “Yes. I feel stupid now. Running from nothing but light.”

They know we are running. They were trying to scare us to run back to District 12. Like that would ever happen. I open up my bag, searching for something to eat. I find an apple, dried apricots, and a turkey leg. I take a bite out of the apple, and think what to do next. Gale is sitting next to me, eating the pear he brought. “You know what we do now?” he asks.

“No, what?” I say. “We wait,” he answers, clearly unaware that I am desperate to get as far away from the

districts as I can. He looks me in the eye. “Do you still have the tracking bracelet on?” he asks me seriously. I pull up my sleeve to check. I do. I rip it with my teeth and start to dig a hole in the ground to bury it.

“Wait!” Gale stops me. “Let them see it. They’ll know we are trying to conceal ourselves if we bury it. And besides, they’ll find it anyway. No use.”

We walk along the electric fence that conceals the districts from the rest of the world. The only opening is at the Capital for shipping goods in and out. They would never let us through there, not since I was the Mockingjay. I started this whole rebellion.

“Katniss?” I hear. I whip my head around to find my father standing behind me. My heart skips a beat. I run toward him and thrust my arms around him. I press my face to his chest and wonder how he is still alive.

“Where’s Prim?” he asks before I can ask him how he survived. I let out a sob. “Dead,” I say quietly. “Dead?” he utters. “Who? Who killed her?” he says louder. “The... The Capitol. They burned her,” I say quietly. “No. No, they didn’t. No,” he says. He, too, lets out a sob. Gale stands behind me, looking

envious. “What about my dad? Where is he? Is he alive?” Gale asks. “No. He died in the explosion,” he says. We walk back to District 12. My mom screams when she sees my dad. “Wha.. Why are you here?!?! How did you escape?!?!” she screams. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I still love you,” he says. They walk back to my mom’s bedroom to do things that I don’t know, and probably don’t

want to know about. I sit down at the table, awestruck. I don’t know what to think. The only thing I know is that I am going to live my life to the fullest, and no matter what, remember those who died, or almost died, like my father, for me.

by Cara Denton (with the help of Jesse Kwon)

Can you hear my heartbeat?

Can you hear my heartbeat? One-two, one-two.

It’s the only thing I can. One-two, one-two.

Should it be so loud? One-two, one-two.

Is it the only thing I know? One-two, one-two.

I only know my heartbeat. One-two, one-two.

Was there anything before it? One-two, one-two.

Will there be anything else? One-two, one-two.

I can count my heartbeat. One-two, one-two.

But how many will it be? One-two, one-two.

Will it stop?

by Liza Plant

by Grace Williams

by Faith Rhodes

Outside the Box

The cold, dusky night air surrounded my body like an ice blanket, a feeling not unknown by

me. Above the city lights flickered, inhabitants of the block buildings stacked up upon each other, finally resting their tired bodies in bed. I watched as the lights went off, each night a different pattern. The raven lady goes to bed once the sun reaches the horizon, dipping her majesty in surrender to night, his majesty. Once the sun goes beyond, all her lights go off, causing the dim porch lights to cast off shadows that danced until her neighbors too, retreated to bed

. “Jade,” Molly looked up at me, her doll face showing little emotion. “Shouldn’t you go to bed now too?” I looked back out of the cracked, broken windows, very much unlike Molly. “I don’t know. I might try again tonight.” “You’re going to break my heart Jade,” Molly twisted her porcelain head to look out at the city line, her ice blue eyes gazed unwavering at the darkening horizon. “Why not stay a little longer with me? You can pull through until He reaches down to pick you up to heaven.” I sighed, putting my head in my hands, still keeping my eyes on the outside. “I don’t know.” “Maybe you should just go to bed,” Molly suggested, lowering herself from the stool she was propped up on, and into her little makeshift bed of my old clothes. “Okay,” I agreed, still watching the sun disappearing from beneath my blanket.

Behind the drugstore a few miles away from my broken down apartment building, was a haunt for loiterers who had nothing better to do with their lives, or teens who had discovered their loved ones for the night, doing whatever they please, shielded from their parents’ eyes. That is where I am headed tonight, in my worn tank and cut jeans made into makeshift shorts. The evening air hugged my thin, starved legs, and played with my greasy hair that even still had the dignity to stay on my stretched head.

In the distance I could hear men laugh, slurred laughs that announced they were out of control, and therefore the few strands of pride holding them back from their monster inside were cut, and the monster set loose. My heart leapt. This was perfect, and maybe I’ll be whisked away, kidnapped, whatever, and be given a life. I don’t care what type of life. I wanted to start over. Maybe this wasn’t the best way, but this was the easiest. Many people say dying is the easiest; they’re all lying. Dying must be the hardest. You’re giving away the only real gift that has been given to you, life, not even compared to what your parents think once you have entered this world of Earth and society. To throw it away, especially on purpose is like throwing away the most expensive and precious gift on Christmas, with the price tag still attached to it. I refuse to do so, although Molly thinks otherwise. She was still asleep when I left in the afternoon; nothing keeps her awake anymore; sometimes I fear she’ll leave me first. She’s even threatened me if I don’t go with her first, she’ll leave without me. I continued to walk with the few pumps of energy left within my hollow shell of a body, my legs carrying me closer to my destination. “Stop.” I ran, knowing this won’t be a chase at all. But I never heard echoing footsteps behind me; I never even saw any shadow casted in front of me. “Stop.” I turned, standing at the entrance to the alley was a girl; she was shorter than my 5’4’’ frame. When I drew back closer, I realized it was Rachel, Molly’s sister whom I had discarded many years ago. I’ve always realized Rachel would still be alive even after all these years, but to find me, I never thought so. “Jade,” Rachel smiled, her pretty red lips spread to reveal her teeth, white but shattered. “I’ve missed you.” Molly, I thought, Molly would kill me if I talked to her. “My glass heart almost shattered when I realized you weren’t going to come back for me at the gas station,” Rachel wiped away invisible tears, only seen by her. “Fortunately the girl who lived there took me in, only to attack me for every bit of abuse she received by her father.” She spread out her arms, where cracks and thin hairlines ran all along the cheery yellow paint, drawn to represent her dress. “Rachel,” I replied, my voice cold. “Jade, are you still looking for a new life? Even after an eternity?” “Rachel, I have Molly now, you shouldn’t be here.” Rachel continued to wipe away her tears. “I’ve missed you Jade, I really have. To think, if you get home, tell Molly I’ve said hello, and tell her I’ve dreamt of a wonderful future of us three.” “I’ll be on my way then,” pushing past the littered trash cans, I walked past Rachel, who stood below my chin, watching me leave. “Jade, I love you too,” she whispered as I passed her. Dinner was cold, dried up beans and old ham the butcher gave to me that he was about to feed it to his dogs. Molly just sat there, in front of the old crate that served as my glorious dining table. She hadn’t said a word yet, but the cold gleam in her eyes announced that she was still here. Once the food was finished, I pulled on my only good and useful piece of clothing I owned, cotton socks I had stolen from a thrift shop when I was ten, and had a foster family. The only thing I’ve learned from all my past families was that your feet and head are the most vulnerable for colds, and I’ve followed that rule since.

“You seem glum today,” Molly suddenly exclaimed, I looked over to see a complacent face. “Did your plan fail to yet succeed?” I scowled, “You wouldn’t believe who I bumped into today.” Molly’s smug attitude disappeared. “Who?” there weren’t many people that she knew, the fact that she was so powerful in terms, and all. “Rachel.” “I know many Rachels, which one are you talking about?” she said in a manner that was way too fast. “Your sister.” “Are you sure it wasn’t Dolly? I mean, she’s always had a thing against me, maybe she wanted to see my host?” “Face it, it’s your sister and my departed doll,” dimming the candle light so that it didn’t cast as much glows against the darkening wall, I crawled towards my mattress. If Molly could shake her head as fast as I can and have her silky fake hair bounce around like mine, she would’ve. “No! I’ve cast her away! How could she come back?” “How do you expect me to answer that question? I’ve underestimated you guys too much for my own good that I’ve come to know not to second-guess your powers. You should learn that too, especially you being one of them.” Molly glared at me, “If Rachel’s back, there’s no say in what’s in store for us in the future. I’m extremely upset right now.”

I pretended to agree, before slowing my breaths and acting the part of me sleeping. But I wasn’t, what did she mean that this was important? Rachel couldn’t do much harm, after all a little girl did use her to beat her up. As if reading my mind, Molly murmured, “We dolls aren’t what they see, we can play tricks, we can be princesses, we can be queens, but we can also be the end to your light. That’s why we have painted faces. So you can’t see what’s inside.” I fell asleep dreaming about my life being ended by dolls with cracked and shattered faces. by Sarah Zhang

Future

Darkness drowning the light

no help to save it’s peaceful self second by second still no words are spoken

The darkness comes closer people are scared the light is slowly dying

Calling for a hero People are there, yet no one is there

the darkness swiftly surrounds the light one shriek

last shriek of light Forever dark

no hero has come.

by Celeste Cullors

by Tahra Khanuja

Storms

The dark formidable clouds

rolled over the calm blue sky.

The eerie booming thunder

shaking the earth. The

lightning cracked

and lit up the sky

leaving a ghostly

shadow in it’s place.

Murky pools of rain

forming in the torrential

downpour. Big wet

droplets

fall all

around

soaking

the

land.

by Paige Warren

by Faith Rhodes

by Sarah Zhang

Darkness Every day she hides, And every night she comes out from her secret home. In a long black robe she joins us, Taking her time while she tiptoes across the sky. Her little servants run along behind her, Slowly peeking out from the folds in her skirt. She is beautiful yet mysterious. She sits and listens while we tell her everything. All of our secrets, spilled to her. She is a stealthy beast, very good at trickery. Tricking us into thinking she would keep our secrets. Tricking us into thinking she would never leave. But she did. She betrayed us, And took with her our most prized possessions And our last strands of hope. But she disappears because of her sister. When her sister wakes up, she remembers. Remembers how beautiful her sister is compared to her. Remembers what happened the last time she wanted to fight.

She lets her sister strip all of the dignity from her back, Lets her sister take over the land once more. The people never see her anymore. She used to strut and play. But she was reprimanded and hated for what she did. Now, people only comment on her sister’s beauty. They believe that the sun outshines the moon. Is it true? What do we know about her? Do we care to believe the stereotypes? There will be a time When we will not know her anymore. When she gets fed up with this world, And tries another one. A fresh start. A new beginning. Everyone has a “last straw”. When she goes into hiding for good, No one will be able to find her. No one will care to find her. No one but me.

- Little Star

by Jena Resnick

by Jenna Resnick

Flightless Feather

As I fell through the air I considered the possible outcomes of my fate. They were all dim. I could hit the ground and break my little neck, blood spurting everywhere, and mother would regret her decision of pushing me out of the nest. I could somehow learn the skill of flight in the short distance between between here and the ground and fly back up to the nest. Or, most likely, I would hit the ground, and not die. I would probably break something along the way and be in serious pain. But I would not die. And therefore, mother would make me come right back up to the nest, and we would do it again. My wings started to stretch out as I gave up on any hope of survival. Gravity pulled me down to earth and my small feathers gripped the wind. And suddenly without warning I stopped. The sharp blades of air ceased their eternal slashes at my face I floated for a millisecond, before plummeting to earth again, having been so startled with my newfound knowledge that I had lost consciousness. I lay on the ground for a long time before someone pecked me and I awoke.

“Let’s do it again!” she said. Mother had been very kean on my learning the skill of flight as soon as possible. She had ignored the instinct of waiting till I was of the certain age, and as soon as I had opened my eyes for the first time, she pushed me out of the nest. She did not, of course, let me hit the earth. This would be a cruel and unusual punishment. She let me fall a few feet before grabbing me with her talons and flying us back to the nest. What a mother.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I chirped, but she ignored me. “Back up.” She picked me up, and we floated to the top of the tree. I had never liked these trips back up. I had never liked the need for going up. You see, I, a

saw whet owl, am afraid of heights. I know, I know, silly right? He’s a bird! He lives in a tree! How can he be afraid of heights? Well...I’m not sure...I just don’t exactly understand why a bird must live in a tree. The ground is a perfectly safe place to dwell. There are caves and hills and plenty of places to hide. Living in a tree is just illogical. We, as a species, must adapt to whole new surrounding and risk falling to our deaths every night in the name of what? What is the purpose of our life in these trees? In the name of what, do we risk our lives each night?

We had reached the top of the nest when I decided to say something. Mother was about to push me out again when I turned around and hopped off the rim.

“No mother.” “What?” she squeaked. No one ever talked back to mother. “I am not going to do this

again. I hate it. I hate every moment of it. I wish that I could just live on the ground, where it is safe, and you don’t have to commit suicide everyday in the name of god knows what!” This was the first time I had ever spoken up to anyone. I felt very proud of myself. And I decided that I should do this more oft-. I stopped thinking that when my mother pushed me right back out of the nest. And we repeated the cycle again. by Elizabeth Sacktor

by Leah Mitchell

Stars

Twinkling in the moonlight, showing off their natural beauty, burning the fire in their hearts.

The stars shine, bright as diamonds. The moon keeps them safe throughout the night,

acting as a mother to them. She cares for them,

and makes sure that their fire is always burning. The stars blaze in the luminescence,

never to leave the moon’s side. I wish I could keep one in a bottle like a firefly,

so that I would be with the stars forever.

by Lucie Boucher

by Lucie Boucher

by Sarah Brooks Flowery Wonderland I, the girl in a flowery wonderland, one day after a fun fluttery full day walked through a field of a thousand shadows a golden legend once said through the field of despair a kingdom of falling field flowers pinks, purples, blues! filling the kingdom with wonderfulness through the field of shadows I see a door made of gold I opened the with such amazement I saw pretty pinks, beautiful blues and graceful greens I was showered with waterfalls of flowers I felt free like a single petal flapping in wind sadly it was time to go from this wondrous wonderland and go to my dreary home but I will never forget this second fluttery flowery home of mine By: Gabrielle Forbes

by Meredith Broadus

by Sophie Leheny Leaves Leaves are delightful. They hang anxiously from thin twigs and await that glorious moment when they escape the grasp of the tree and gracefully glide through the cool crisp autumn air. The leaves gently land on the chilled spongy grass. Their beautiful glistening colors concealing the emerald ground. Suddenly a harsh bitter wind sweeps them into the air. They are flying once more Twirling, Twisting and sailing through the air in an explosion of color. Then they stop and they solemnly settle silently to the ground and the leaves are at rest again. by Paige Warren

perfect gawky tall glasses curvy waist hunched over bent brown eyes curly hair big thighs braces. intelligent happy articulate resourceful funny loving caring powerful strong confident by Lyndsey Brown by Faith Rhodes

MEMEME Who is this girl I see, in the mirror in front of me? No longer a pane of glass, but a window of the past. In this strange world I go, where pain is never a load. A burden of which in my world, a person is forced to tow. Where dandelions still dance, and the wispy clouds still weep, where the sun was bright yellow, and the skies a blue still deep. Where did this strange world go? Where the world was never my foe? Where the little girl had eyes of her own, and everyday wore a little white bow. Blue and black, forever my sight, never confusion shall I lack. Why is it that this little girl has gone? Why is it I that replace this girl who once shone? My shell I have worn has now torn,

as the blackness of my thoughts tear apart my seams. Weak the little girl once fought; now in her grave she lies, my hands covered in dirt - belittle me my humanity, I will never forget this girl despite my forever animosity. Her innocent sighs live in my cries as each day the light brings back deadly flies carrying the disease of pain and threatening tides of innocence maimed through this new infection of society. Ten feet deep this little girl was me, her world a pretty feat, never to be beaten by a world beyond her feet. Yet here it lies, unconscious thoughts, manifesting in the flesh and bone of every living human being. People who make this society, one of which was never me, but a shell worn thin by enemies who live within what I think is me. Her death will be one to be mourned, a new monster has been born, breathing, tearing out this dome created from her pale white skin, where underneath had once been, a living, thinking human being brimming full of life and glee. Never will she speak again, or see through eyes that once were hers, but through a copy of society, all because of a fateful fee with a cost of her innocent life, paid for by who I know is me. by Sarah Zhang

I am

I am smart and shy I wonder if wars are going to end

I hear angels calling my name I see my favorite tv shows out in the world

I want to live in Disney World I am smart and shy

I pretend to be a person that is super brave

I feel like I can fly sometimes I touched a unicorn before

I worry that I'll die a young age I cry when I go to a funeral

I am smart and shy

I understand that if I trust in God I'll go to heaven I say that I believe I'll do good in school

I dream that I have super powers I try to be nice to everyone and not be mean

I hope I grow up to be a strong woman I am smart and shy

by Sydney Leyba

by Riley Woods

A Romance

“Ugh, why do we have to do this!” I complained as we started the car to drive three long, boring hours to the notorious cabin in the middle of nowhere. My parents wanted to spend some fun time together, and I had to tag along. Hi, my name is Katy Bloons, and I’m 14 years old. I, for one, DO NOT want to go on this trip. I am missing four major parties back in Seattle, where I live, and I am missing them because of a stupid trip.

As we pulled up to the cabin, I gasped, “This cabin is SO much worse than I thought it would be.” The paint on the walls was cracked, one of the stairs to the front door was missing, and one of the windows had shattered into pieces. “Is this a joke?” I said.

“I think it looks cozy,” said mom.

My dad went silent, until he finally said, “Please stop your complaining, Katy.” What he said translated to me, from the looks of this place so far, that this was going to be the worst summer ever.

Suddenly, I saw a face in the woods next to the cabin. It was a boy’s face, and he looked about my age. I decided to introduce myself, wanting to make an effort to enjoy this trip. So I started to walk over, but he ran away. I called, “Wait, come back!” but he had already left. Since he was gone, I decided to look at my room, where I would be sleeping for the next week. I groaned as I saw what it looked like. The wallpaper was a faded yellow and was peeling off the wall. The drive was really long and I was tired, so I soon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the sun through the window blinded me as I woke up. Then I thought to myself, “No, this isn’t a dream, it is all a terrible reality.” I went downstairs to make myself some breakfast, and all we had was cornflakes. “Mom, can we go get some GOOD cereal from the store?”

She replied, “Sorry honey, the nearest grocery store is 56 miles away, and we should only go if it is an emergency and we don’t have any food.”

I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere in this argument.

Finally, I decided to go visit that boy that I saw in the woods yesterday, so I yelled up to my mom, told her I was going exploring, and she said, “Have fun!”

It was easy finding his house, considering there were only two houses within 50 miles, mine and his, from what I saw on the drive here. I knocked on the door, and he answered. I explained how I was staying here over the summer and I asked if there was anything interesting to do. He was just about to go kayaking, and he invited me to go, so I said yes.

We headed down to the docks, jumped into the kayaks, and headed out into the water. It was a sunny, beautiful day, and I learned a lot about this boy. His name is Eli, he is 14, my age. Eli had blue eyes and brown hair. In the sunlight, his blue eyes sparkled, and his brown hair shone. I had never really noticed that Eli was attractive before, but in this moment, I knew I had a crush on him. Suddenly, the kayak swayed, and then it tipped over! Then I remembered. I couldn’t swim! I started screaming, “I can’t swim. I can’t swim!”

Eli dove out of his kayak, and brought me back onto land. Eli had just saved my life!

“Thank you for doing that, you just saved my life. I would have drowned if it weren’t for you.”

Eli replied, “Oh, it was nothing.”

I could tell he was shy, so I tried to make more conversation. I asked Eli questions like where he lived and what he did for fun. Eli lived in Seattle too, two neighborhoods over from my house! And he also liked listening to 80s music. I ALSO love to listen to 80s music! What a coincidence! Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad after all…

I think we both could tell we had a connection, so I leaned forward, and kissed him! His lips were smooth and cool, and I wished that this moment could last forever. Suddenly, my eyes immediately opened. He looked extremely shocked, and I could tell I had made a mistake. So I pulled away, and ran through the shortcut in the woods back to the cabin. I don’t know why, but I just started crying. I had just kissed a boy at the most random time, and he didn’t expect it at all, and he might be mad at me, or scared, or he could just feel like he wanted to crawl in a hole. That is how I felt. I crawled in bed and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning I woke up to the smell of coffee. My mom and dad were downstairs, sitting at the table. I had so many thoughts about yesterday I needed to get some air. I walked outside into the woods, where I made myself a log bench and a pillow of leaves. Looking up at the sky, I heard a rustle in the bushes. What was out there? I didn’t know what to do, should I run? Should I hide? A wave of relief crashed over me, but it didn’t last long. It was Eli. And right now, he was no better than a ferocious animal. So I just asked, “What are you doing here?”

And Eli replied, “I came out here because it is a quiet, peaceful place where I can sit and think.”

I couldn’t take it any longer, so I went out on a limb and asked, “What do you feel like after yesterday?” I felt that wasn’t clear, so I said, “About the kiss.”

And he replied, “Yeah, I assumed you were talking about the kiss. And by the way, I didn’t mind it. How about you?”

Eli’s response took me by surprise, and I felt, oddly, like a huge boulder was lifted off my shoulders. Then I said, “I am so happy you just said that!” And, without thinking, I kissed him again. And, happily, he kissed me back! Butterflies filled my stomach, and I couldn’t feel my body anymore, just my lips and his.

The next day, he invited me to go to the state fair. “Of course I want to go!” I said. As we rounded the corner to the state fair, I saw bright lights of a ferris wheel, and many fun games and booths lined up. It was about 7:00, and even in the darkness, I could see his eyes twinkle.

First, we headed toward, the ferris wheel. Then I said, “I’m afraid of heights, I can’t go on that!”

And he replied, “Don’t worry, you are always safe with me.”

We jumped into the cart, and we started to go up, and up, and up. He smelled like the cotton candy we had just shared. I started mumbling how afraid I was, and he put his finger to my lips, to quiet me. As we were about to reach the top, Eli kissed me. The rest of the fair went by like a blur.

He won me a giant stuffed panda, and we went on the Cranium Shaker. That is all I remember. I just kept thinking, what is in store for our relationship? Will we still be an item when I go back to my home? I decided to sleep on it.

The next morning just as I awoke, I remembered, “Today’s Monday!” It was time to leave the cabin. I didn’t have much time to say goodbye to Eli, so I left a note at his doorstep saying, I had a really nice time with you. I want you to know that I still believe in our relationship, so when you get to Seattle, feel free to go two neighborhoods over and visit me. Love, Katy I kept thinking about him on the car ride back.

When I got back to my house, a bouquet of roses was on the doorstep, and said, ”I love you. Keep in touch. Love, Eli” I will definitely keep in touch with him, and go to his house often. That is when I finally realized that this had been the best. summer. ever.

by Lucie Boucher

Madytyson

Madtyson took a breath and dove into an endless pool of sorrow and regret. She had been suffering from a coma since Monday, and diving in this pool was the only thing that kept her in touch with reality. *Breathe and dive* She repeated in her head as the endless time ticks by. What had truly sentenced her into a coma? Her long ridiculous relationship with Jonathan? Or could she have had a genetic disease all this time? *Breathe and dive* Oh, Jonathan. I wonder what he is doing now as I lay lifeless in this small boxy room of a hospital. Luckily my mom does not or, at least, I hope doesn’t know about this because as soon as she does, bye bye Jonathan, and hello grounding. At least by that time I will have something to do and will be awake, but I really wonder how long I will be locked up since I did and still do have a coma to beat. *Breathe and dive* But mom, oh sweet mom, she still thinks I am in Florida for senior week and maybe a little party afterwards. Each time I think of mom and what happened to put me into a coma, it gets blurry and resurfaces into me being locked up in my room with a lecture from my mom on the other side. *Breathe and dive*.How much longer? I wonder, and when will I escape this horrible state and feeling? All that I remember is that when I went under Jonathan and Mardyn, my best friend, were standing above me with huge worried eyes.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ *blink* As I open my eyes, I see my mother’s worried face with fresh tears dripping down

her face. “Mom” I say in a thin crispy voice sort of like sandpaper. Like a whip she turns her head around further so that I can see her full face and body.

“Ty!!!!” My mom exclaims and leans toward me. *blink* I sit there innocently, hoping to God she doesn’t know what happened, because I

sure don’t and I need to soon if she wants explaining. “ A-am I grounded?” I whisper just loud enough for her and the Doctor to hear.

“ Of course,” she starts and then abruptly stops as Jonathan and Mardyn have just walked in. “ We will talk about this later,” she quickly adds and saunters out.

Mardyn and Jonathan give a quick but worried smile. “ Guys its still me what is the matter with you?” I ask in a slightly questionable tone.

They look at each other with a glance saying that they do not know whether they should tell me. “ Well,” I cough at them, “ are you going to tell me?” Now I am getting nervous because they are always so open.

“Mads, we need to tell you what happened during spring break and how you ended up here.”

I can tell they don’t really want to but feel obliged. Go on,” I throw out as bait. Mardyn swallows hard and leaps into a story about what went down. “ Wait, you are trying to tell me that it is because I am a mythical creature or at least half of one?” I managed to say without letting out a loud giggle.

“Not just you we all are…” she says while gesturing to Jonathan, her and I. Mardyn again tells the story but adds way more information than needed.

“So you’re expecting me to believe we are all angels,” I say sarcastically. “ I don’t see any wings.”

Mardyn quietly then says, “ That is because we are Half – Angels and are only on earth to help those with a failing conscience.”

“Summarizing what you said, if an angel commits an angelic crime they are placed in a trap type thing, and for me a coma,” I say as calmly as possible, so I personally won’t freak out.

“Exactly!” exclaims Mardyn as she looks at Jonathan as if they have a bet in place to see if I would understand. “The reason you and Jonathan are together is because of what we call ‘soul mates’,” she adds in a cutesy tone. by MaryKat Weigman

The Winter Wanderer

The Winter Wanderer

Walking down the winding path On a night with many stars

Looking at the

Trees adorned with Accents of snow

Breathing in, and Feeling the crisp

Cold air fill her lungs

Hearing the ground crunch Under her after stepping On a small patch of ice

The Winter Wanderer

Loving the feeling Of being a part of something bigger

by Cammy Suntha

Lead me to the River

I watched my family being sold away like a family of dogs. I cried for my mama, and she held me close. I cried and cried, but that wouldn’t change anything. The white men grabbed me, and I struggled with all my might to pull away from them, but I was small, I couldn’t beat them. My mama was taken away. I was sold to a family that needed someone to take care of the babies. It was five years after my mama had been sold away and now at the age of ten, I was good and strong enough to take care of the woman’s baby. The mistress looked me over and thought me trustworthy and brought me to her room where the baby lay. “Now look girly, if you do well with the baby, I’ll teach you to read and write. I know my husband’s not going like this, but I feel you, as a woman, need to know.” I felt gratitude towards my new mistress. She did not treat me cruelly and treated me like I was one of her. The master never looked at me for he’s always in the fields whipping the other slaves. I thanked God I was not with them, but whenever I saw a man go down in pain, I knew I would somehow set them free. I’ve heard about runaways. When I’m strong and smart enough, I will lead them all to freedom in the north. I think my mama would have nodded in agreement and stroked my hair saying, “That’s my girl, Faith.” I learned to read and write and had some knowledge in math. I was now twelve, and it had been my second year with my kind mistress. She always celebrated my birthday. She decided the day I was sold to her was the day my birthday would be. So every year she would celebrate my birthday and would give me a present. This year it was soft slippers. I loved them and immediately put them on. I was so happy the mistress didn’t see me as someone different than her. She was so kind and generous to do things like this with me. But, whenever I looked outside, I always saw the other slaves, struggling to stay alive and being whipped constantly. Sometimes, I would hear them sing. Oh Lord Hear my prayers hear my cries Lead me to the river Lead me to the heaven waiting for me The angels I see Do not lead me Lead me to the river River River Lord help us all before we perish in your hands So lead us to the river Lead us to the land I could not ignore their songs, a cry for help to be set free. The mistress let me read her Bible every day. I heard them sing of Moses saying, “Let my people go.” They sang of Noah and Abraham.

“Sing no more,” I always said to myself. “Any day now, I will lead you to the river.” The mistress was sick. Very sick. She was always in bed and beckoned me always to read the Bible to her. “But the salvation of the righteous is from the Lord; He is their strength in time of trouble.”I read to her. She held my hand, “Tonight is my final night my child, listen to my words and remember them.” I nodded. “Be good and treat everyone well. Always stay happy.” I wiped away a tear and nodded. Her hand went limp in my hand as she fell asleep. I walked outside and looked towards the woods. I looked up and saw the north star. It’s the perfect night for escaping. Everything they sang about was here. I crept outside through the back door when everyone’s asleep. I knocked on the tiny shed the slaves slept in. The door opened, and I run inside. “Tell everyone to wake up. We goin’ to the river tonight.” Everyone was awake, and I had told them my mistress’s words. They all nodded and everyone crept out of the shed and ran into the woods. I looked up in the sky and saw the brightest star, the north star. I told everyone do not stop running for the slave catchers are sure to find us if we do. We ran and ran, following the star. We grew tired. Luckily, everyone there but me were adults or teenagers. I had an idea our journey would require swimming. There was a river/ I remembered that dogs cannot track you down in the river. So we waded in the river and followed the star some more. I estimated we had run at least five miles from our master’s house. “Climb that tall oak tree yonder. We will sleep there while one will keep watch. We will take turns and run some more at night.” So we started climbing the strong oak tree and hid in the leaves. We were completely hidden from sight. A lady started shivering, scared that a slave catcher would find us. So I sang the song they all sang, Oh Lord Hear my prayers hear my cries Lead me to the river Lead me to the heaven waiting for me The angels I see Do not lead me Lead me to the river River River Lord help us all before we perish in your hands So lead us to the river Lead us to the land That seemed to make everyone calm down and everyone fall asleep. The time the watchman woke us up was about 6:00 PM. We could see the north star and climbed down the tree. We ran and ran

and followed that bright shining star as fast as our legs could carry us. We did this for three long, tiring days until I spotted the town. We climbed a tall tree to see the town to see where we had run too. A town in Pennsylvania it seemed. We were in the north. We were finally in the north. Everyone hugged and jumped for joy. Here we are in the land of the freed O lord has led us Led us to the land We are free We are free Moses has finally let god’s people go We all sang. We climbed down from the trees and walked into the town. A man welcomed us to the town and offered us food and shelter for a while. He was also an escaped slave, a free man now. We stayed at his place, finally free. I couldn’t be happy enough. We were finally free. Free, free, free.

by Jesper Kwon

by Faith Rhodes

The Adventure: A Poem As soon as the sun set, we crept out of our bedrooms, out of our houses sliding shaky screen doors open to greet the cool summer night air. We met halfway, giggling. and circled around to the back. the stillness of night not quite yet fallen seemed to transform us. making us people we weren’t. We said things we hadn’t yet thought, tripping over ourselves, running to grow up But we liked it all the same. The chatter of cicadas kept us company as we walked along the grass trail Only the glow of the pale pink moon lit our path. I could not see your face through the darkness. We talked of little things and big things with the air of casualty that only teenage girls can pull off. And when we reached the small grassy area by the creek, kept mown by fairies and gnomes and secret creatures of the wood

I pushed you over, laughing into the spindly lemongrass by the side where our civilization ended and the bush began. You pulled me down with you, and we lay like that for a long time until the moon woke up and turned into the sun, and the clouds turned from violet to mauve to lilac, and we both knew it was time to leave. As we traveled back on the path I could look only at the ground or up at the dawn. I could not face forward. I wanted to stay, with you, in those woods forever among daisies and ants and nymphs. We reached the end of the trail where trodden-on grass became gravel, then asphalt. I could not bring myself to laugh at our journey’s end. Silence was better, the silence of a night shared, the joy of an adventure well had.

by Naomi Fotenos

by Isabel Verheyen

A Winter Day Like white feathers drifting through the air Like soft silk running through your hands Snow is magical, nothing compares Among the silent hills you stand Wishing you could be forever there In the distance you hear a sound A faint jingling noise, singing, that you just have to discover The sound gets louder as you wander around And you find that it is the carolers singing joyfully to one another You return home only to find Your mother has made hot chocolate for you and your friends Your mother's hot chocolate is one of a kind You sit back and relax, but no, your day has not come to an end You and your friends rush outside And the world around you becomes a tornado of snow The whole world seems to be full of joy as you run and hide From the balls of soft cold silk you are attempting to throw But when you've had enough, you and your friends take a break And you curl up by the fireplace and talk about your day And you wonder... What if every day was as extraordinary as today? by Bella Motsco

by Maria Louisa Aversano Fear to Love Love or hate, may fate decide. As I stared into his eyes, my heart slowly flew from my chest into a small glass bottle along with his. I drowned in his eyes. I suffocated in his large scent. All in the midst of chaos for two minutes, I was safe. He told me with his eyes he would protect me from here on. He told me he would love me forever. I looked away. He looked embarrassed. I looked up again. I smiled. He smiled. We smiled until we were alone. Once they left, we walked slowly towards one another. I ,unsure and frightened.

He, feeling incredibly excited and scared all at once. Our fear blossomed into love, into love that would last for miles and miles down a broken path. It’s very presence made all my journeys of cracked cement over. To him I was perfect, inside and out, but he didn’t see me. He didn’t see the past, my past, my lethality. It didn’t matter, his arms told me, it didn’t matter. His very touch made me swell with joy and fear. No, I cannot love. I am too afraid. Last time was too much. I can’t do this again. Not again Not again Not again Maybe just tonight. I did. It lasted. He lasted. The night tasted passionate. Forever I was his; he was mine Our relationship yellow with fear, but full of growing acceptance. He was with me until my end. Poor love. He was devastated. Never did I mean to upsethim. My last word was “forever.” by Maria Louisa Aversano

every single day

indoors all day indoors all night

why doesn't the sun shine so bright? how can trees just wither away?

why are flowers picked day by day? bugs are squashed and animals killed

how does it feel now, to be around every single day?

by Vanessa Brecher

by Vanessa Brecher

A life in heaven I am not afraid of death Death does not scare me What scares me the most would be losing the ones I love I have a new understanding for that, Now that someone I love has passed But it doesn't means she’s not still there She helps me with my bumps in the road She helps me when I am sad She is not there physically But is in my heart She is my hope for life The moment that she died My heart was torn in two One side filled with a heartache And the other died with you

Remembering her is easy I do it everyday But missing you gives me heartache That never goes away I believe that we live another life A life that takes us through journeys A life that never dies I believe in an afterlife Where we frolic through the clouds Or we are reborn into a life that is unknown I believe in a second chance A chance of a lifetime A life that is unknown I life that we live for A life in heaven

by Grace Williams

by Grace Williams

My Light Fades The pain draws into my heart I knew he was going to attack soon He sent one of his friends to do this to me My muscles cease, my eyes slowly close, and my soul floats from my body. I lose everything My memories, my dreams, my hopes Please God please! There has never been a god there for me I have always been an outsider I have never seen love or beauty Death was always my path for the future I had known it since my birth No one ever loved me All I wanted was love This was my life truly ending It was for the better My bitter past was over God could bring someone in my place to be loved I felt my soul going, drifting Not to the light though To the deep darkness by Maya Shah

by Brynn Cross

The Good Things In Life I don’t know why the willow weeps for the birds are singing, they play and leap the sun may be hiding, but that’s just today the sky will become blue after the grey and if it makes you sad, just remember the good things in life the willow is weeping again, and when I ask, he says look at the sky (which is charcoal black) but machines will stop running some day, some day then our blue blanket will surely stay and if it makes you sad, just remember the good things in life the willow weeps again for the sky, and this time I have figured out why a sky without blue is sad to see, but it is better than watching the ground on Earth people do bad things every day, but still the sun can stay away from horrors of living the human way from all of the bad things of life soon I realize I am weeping the most because of human cruelty (we have all gotten a dose) trees can look up at the sky, but in the building I must go I tell the tree of human sadness for awhile when I see a small, small smile “If it makes you sad, remember the good things in life” by Astri Doub

by Astri Doub

by Sophie Mogol