Ramifications

GUHSD

Washington High School

Creative Writing Club

Fall Edition, 2014

By

STAFF:

Ashley Boles, Audra Paletta, Daniel Moraga, Tyler Buttler, Paula Moreno,

Yared Vivas, Johnnie Heredia, Juliana Nguyen, James Lopez, Amber Peck,

Jessica Valadez, Amber Riley, Mirabella Boyer, Julia Y. Johnson, Tamaree

Kaewluean, Na’mya Clemons

SPONSOR: Mrs. Dooling

President: Johnnie Heredia

Vice-President: Ashley Boles

Treasurer: Tyler Buttler

Secretary: Yared Vivas

Art Coordinator: Audra Paletta

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CREATIVE WRITING CLUB, 2014 - 2015

STAFF & SPONSOR

Serial Killer On the prowl to strike again, he finds the one.

She sips her coffee at the kitchen table, alone as usual. She reads the same fable over and over, abandoned by her lover as if unwanted kittens left in the woods in a cardboard box to die. That very morning she drinks until she weeps, then weeps until she can't drink. Her heart standing broken and cursed, she fears she cannot contain the evil within. She dresses herself in a Pearl White dress. Before she sets out for what the day might bring, she trades her smile for a Grin.

She killed him for money; she was never rich, wanted to be in the land of milk and honey. Though the amount of money was high, the thrill of the taking of a life was an indescribable joy. She had unleashed a monster with deadly beauty, her eyes alone kept you lost, her so cool frost came out when exhaled. Teeth white as ice, ruby red lips, a woman to die for. On the run, she knows she will die, so she gives birth to a killing spree. She killed a man hitch hiking, than sat him on fire. Kill, kill, she was truly mad. She did this all because of a rush, a satisfaction

Death, she created a fantasy of our illusion of her mad broken heart and fused with reality. She was in a tangle not knowing reality and from her mind. A name she has not, her entire life spent without a care to know her name; Serial Killer is a title, a name she now can call her own. 31 dead, a few without a head, one or two left unable to be depicted.

Alone at the days end, police surround her home, like an oil drop in a bucket of water. Sitting in her bedroom, now lying down on her bed. Police ready to barge in, the order to enter is given when the sounds of terror rip through the evening air. She lies on the bed, kitchen knife in her stomach, bleeding out and fainting her words and gestures toward a specific man, not God, not the Devil, Him.

She looks up at him, barely staying conscious she mumbles “Alone I am, Alone I am without you, the few days we knew each other were extraordinary. Alone I am, Alone. . alone.. alo-.."

Her voice fading out to a slow gasp for air. The police find a note on her dresser, it was addressed to him.

" I killed them all for the money, for the rush, for the fame, and for You to notice me."

That sentence struck the policeman like a bad migraine for he had only left her that morning, The Lover Without Love.

by Johnnie Heredia

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Hand, Part One

There it was, presented sloppily like a fourth grader pressing their hand against the window of a car. I didn’t see it when I walked into my room Saturday morning, but when I went to sleep at midnight, it illuminated in the darkness--which is odd for such an image. A hand.

Slowly and silently, I got out of bed so as not to alert my mom who had just come back home from transporting my dad to his house, as indicated from the sound of the garage door opening. I crept to my TV and carefully analyzed the handprint to check to see if a criminal had gotten into the house--which would be impossible, by the way, since I would have heard my door opening-- and to my knowledge, the handprint looked to be mine. A few minutes later, as I was returning back to my bed, I heard the sound of heels resonating in the empty hallway.

Having been easily spooked by random noises at night, I cracked my door open and peered my head around, shouting: “Hello?” The only answer was the sound of my Mom telling me to go back to bed, that I was just hearing things, and that I needed to get up early in the morning to get ready for school since I had a test to take tomorrow. I obeyed my mom’s wishes, but still wondered who the culprit of the noise was.

Five minutes later, when I began to close my door, I felt a spider-like sensation down my spine by someone’s long, neatly-trimmed nails. I turned around quickly, ready to attack the criminal who had stealthily entered my room without my knowledge, and gasped at the person standing behind me.

It was Lukana. Lukana the murderous killer responsible for the deaths of my previous crushes--who also went by the name of Luka--standing before me, smiling her razor-toothed smile. I reached out to grab her hand, but she quickly rejected me.

She smiled and began to speak. “Missed me? Yeah you did. It’s almost Halloween--well 4 or 5 days away from it. How did you like my present?” She gestured to the TV.

I stood there, not believing my eyes, taking in the details that stood before me-- almost the same as I last saw her, but not quite, missing her red axe but wearing those black heels...

By Ashley Boles

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Broken

As I see you walk by

As I see you by her side I start to remember all the times That it was you and me

But now I realize There never was a “you and me” It was always a “me” So by the time you’re done with her Realize I’m too far out of your reach So goodbye

I hope you’re happy by her side

By Isabelle Treybell

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See Past My Lie

Look past my smile

See what’s underneath my skin

See the monsters now?

As they start to sing

Their voices keep me company

In my hollow mind

By Isabelle Treybell

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Autumn in Phoenix

She feels so neglected in this town, her reds faded to a burnished dusty copper, her light feet hesitant as she slips through days stalked by her glaring Lord, Helios. He frowns, withering her with an exasperated blaze of regal irritation. What I can do with you? he seems to bluster in scorching torrents of incandescent wrath.

She tries to answer with her own gentle sigh, becoming feverish with a desire to prove her worth, riding behind his chariot of dust and light her grey-dappled mare step-step-stepping droplets of sweat and tears mingle she wrings her horse’s mane soothing her lord and his denizens: the faint, the flagging, the faithful.

Reina Otoño we lift our hands to catch what we can of your sorrow and loneliness your thirst for color Poor little queen you deserve more than our desert our dust our days that sear your scarlet to the shade of dried blood.

by Mrs. Dooling

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Walking Again -- CHAPTER ONE

Sunrise

By Tyler Buttler

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

An alarm clock sounded. The sun was just rising as Ian turned over. He groaned.

Another day of answering phone calls to stupid people. He put his hands over his eyes

and sat up.

“I can never get a break…”

Ian got up and ran to his bathroom. He took a quick shower and changed, running

downstairs shortly after. He saw his wife, cooking breakfast as usual.

“Hey honey, ready for work?” she asked him, setting plates on the table.

“As ready as can be, where’s Jack?”

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Jack, Ian’s son, ran into the kitchen, nearly knocking over a shiny glass pot that sat on a

table. He sat down in a chair, smiling.

“He’s right there,” she replied

“Alright, I’m going to go to work. Love you Charlotte.” He said as he left.

“Love you too, Ian.”

“And brush your teeth Jack!” Ian yelled as he closed the door behind him

He quickly took his coffee cup and ran outside, taking in the fresh morning air. Around

him he saw the houses that lay across from him, empty. He didn’t take into account

that his neighbor, Charlie, didn’t say hello to him like he usually did. All the cars were

missing, and his was the only one there.

Ian unlocked his car door and sat in the seat. He started up the vehicle and put it in

reverse. He owned a red Truck, some of the paint was scratched on the left side, from

a biker that hit his car. He drove for miles until the radio came on.

“News reports are saying that an airborne virus has just been created… evidence says

that the virus controls the victim and turns them into an incredibly violent being. The

person appears to try to attack everything. In Los Angeles this morning, twenty-two

year old Markus Dent went mad and murdered several people before being shot down

by police force in the area.”

The radio kept going, but Ian ignored it. He was confused… he looked at his watch and

noticed that he was late. Finally, he made it to his work building. When he got to the

parking spaces, there were only a few cars still there. He recognized one as his boss’s

car, and a few other people’s cars. He got out of his car and locked the door.

It was a cold morning. Shrill winds blew past his nose and turned it pink. He walked to

the door and they opened as he walked inside. The place was very empty. There was

only the person standing at the desk, which he intended to ask some questions…

“Hello? You there?”

The person seemed to be silent… he didn’t answer any questions. The man had a few

scars on his cheek, and a gash in his arm. He stared at Ian… like he was starving…

hungry for flesh. He had a maniacal look on his face, and he suddenly bashed his head

at the glass which stood between him and Ian.

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The glass didn’t even crack. But the man didn’t quit, he kept ramming his head into the

glass until it bled. His black hair was now red with his own fluids… Suddenly, the man

turned around and dropped behind the view of Ian.

Ian turned and ran for the elevator, but then he heard a clash and smash of glass. He

turned to see what made his jaw drop, what made him quiver in his own sanity. He saw

the man holding a large wrench that was now aimed for his skull. The man was

walking at first, which gave Ian time to react… but then he began to run.

“We can work this out! We don’t have to fight! What’s wrong with you?!” Ian screamed,

terrified.

The man ran toward him and finally stood before him. The person that wanted him

dead had lost his eyes, and what was in its place, left a blood trail that was dripping

down from his brown skin. He didn’t see Ian… obviously. But he smelled him. He

breathed heavily and looked around. Suddenly he swung at the door, breaking the

wood into pieces. Ian dropped onto the floor, trying to hide in some possible way.

Suddenly, Ian knew. Ian knew that the hideous, blood driven man had found him. His

scent… or something that defined him as a target. He raised his wrench and screamed

in terror, and just before he brought it down, a shotgun shell blew into the man’s skull,

sending him onto Ian.

Ian slowly pushed the body off of him and got up, shaking. Who would save him?! He

was just a lone worker with little to no skills in the field. And no one had known him

well enough besides his family and a few friends.

“Get up, and put this on. Hopefully you’re not infected yet.”

“Who are you?! Why did you save me?!”

“I’ll tell you later.”

The man before him had a gas mask on, some heavy armor and a heavy jacket. He

looked like a professional. But for all he knew, the person could just be a serial killer.

To be continued …

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The Dog Next Door by Yared A. Vivas

There was a dog that I used to know that lived across my apartment door in room

108; he lived with his owner, an elderly woman named Margot. Every day I used to see him play outside with his owner in the afternoon, running and playing with small children. Oh how I loved that dog, the way he wagged his tail and looked at me in the eyes. He wasn’t like other dogs that I knew, he was different. His name was Dominos.

Dominos was a dog with a true heart, but all of that changed one Sunday

morning in the middle of April. Margot came knocking on my door asking me if I had seen her dog. Bewildered I shrugged and began to help her search for him, from the dog park to the pool, but still he wasn’t found. I walked back to check on Margot and saw that she was carrying something in her arms, and she was covered with blood. I leaned in closer to get a better view and saw that it was Dominos. Dominos got killed while crossing the road. How could have he been killed? I knew this dog for so long and had learned that he was smarter than that. We then carried Dominos’ lifeless body and walked on back to our rooms. I couldn’t seem to forget the last time that I had seen this dog. It was a warm sunny morning where he was playing fetch with Margot. Margot -- that poor, poor Margot -- couldn’t stop crying about how painful she felt when she carried her dead dog in her arms. I began to feel sorry for what had happened. After all they had been through together, their lives together faded away with a tragic ending. Hopefully, Dominos went to a better place. He’s at peace now, I thought; he’s at peace.

It was 12:00 AM, when my grandfather clock began to ring its sorrowful cry. It

was a cold and silent night with no one inside other than me. I looked out of my window, and I noticed that it was raining, raining hard. Then something, something out in the corner of my eye, caught my attention. It was a shadow, a dark ghostly shadow staring at me out of my window, standing a couple of feet away from my room. The object seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for me. Then the grandfather clock rang again, as the rain outside began to pour even harder, like a hurricane crashing against tall trees, roaring loud as an angry lion. Staring at the clock, I slowly looked back at my window to find that the object wasn’t there anymore. It had disappeared. Feeling naïve, I closed the curtains and decided to go back to sleep -- until a loud noise stopped me. “BANG, BANG, THUMP!” it sounded. I stood still as the sounds echoed in my mind; scared, I looked around to see what was making those sounds. There was nothing in sight other than the flash of lightning and my casting shadow. Just as I thought it was safe, something made me change my mind.

It was the shadow; the shadow was inside my apartment. It stood still in the side

of my bedroom door, as its reddish eyes glowed against the moonlight, watching me as I took a final breath, a breath of fear. My mind was clear, clear with nothing but worry and death itself. As I kept staring, the mysterious object slowly began to move out of the corner and into the moon’s light.

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I kept watching it until it was clear. The object was unlike anything that I had ever seen before, it looked like a dog, a skinny, boney dog, covered with bright, red blood, glaring at me as he began to wag his broken tail. I looked fearfully back at him. The dog had a horrid smell, as if it had been dead for quite a while. Terrified, I ran as fast as I could into my room and closed the door shut behind me, watching the ghostly dog stand behind my room’s door, waiting. The haunting hour was finally in; it was 12:12 AM as the grandfather clock rang a second mournful cry, and the lightning struck harder. As the grandfather clock rang, the dog also began to cry, filling the room around me with moans and howls of pain, turning my night into a nightmare.

There was nothing more that I could do to end this dream. The dog that I was

running from was Dominos’ dead corpse; he had returned from the dead. The life-less dog was still there; he still sat behind my room’s door. There must be a way to end this fright, I thought to myself, but there was nowhere to run or hide. Desperate, I knew the only way to get out of the room was to make a run for it, to get outside. The grandfather clock rang again as the restless dog behind the door began to growl now, and his growls sounded as if they belonged to a strong and fearless lion, hunting down its prey, waiting to finish it off. Time was running out -- there was no time to lose, and the only way to escape was to somehow get out of this room, so I headed towards my apartment door. My heart stopped as I placed my hand onto the door’s knob. I began to slowly take a few deep breaths and counted to ten: “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine ... ten!” With that, I quickly closed my eyes and felt my hand open the door. With a loud haunting creak, the door was now wide open. Scared for my life, I kept my eyes closed and ran out the front door, the angry devilish growls following me. Every step I took counted, every breath might be my last, everything within me obeyed only one impulse -- to move quickly to safety.

But it will never be safe. The dog that I once knew was gone, leaving another dog,

a different dog. This animal turned into a beast that cannot stop and wait. He is restless and undefeated, hungry for revenge. He is always waiting.

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Queen of My Heart By Na’mya Clemons

I’ll be the warrior to fight for our love

We’ll fly together, fly higher than the dove

I’ll be your wall and shield you from danger

I’ll take all the pains

For to me, they are not strangers

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