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Sketches

the Literary Magazine of

Xavier High School

Winter 2017

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Sketches

Winter 2017

Student Art Supervision …… Jayne Vitale

Student Photography Supervision …..William Braychak

Technical Assistance…… Kelsey Doherty, Lauren Stoto

Contributing Teachers…… John Popielaski, Charles Flowers

Editor/Layout ….. John McGrath

Table of Contents

— Poetry —

A Night’s Walk by John McEachern ‘17 . . . . . 5 A Fall Morning by Glenn Prushinski ‘18 . . . . . 6

Artwork: “P” by Patrick McKenna ‘17 . . . . . 6

Pounding the Pavement by Ian M. Gelberg ‘19 . . . . . 7

Photo: Building with Clouds by Cole Pavia ‘19 . . . . . 7

President of Vice by Andrew Miano ‘17 . . . . . 8

Photo: Interior by Luke Bassett ‘20 . . . . . 8

Poem: Balance and Artwork by Andrew Reagan ‘18 . . . . . 9

Photo: Shoreline with Rocks by Red Cotthaus ‘19 . . . . . 10

A world with emotions by Antonio Martinez ‘18 . . . . . 10

Surf by Connor Romeo ‘18 . . . . . 11

Photo: Seal by Will Eydman ’19 . . . . . 11

Package Store by Joe Molski ‘18 . . . . . 12

Artwork: Café Martin by Jackson Martin ‘18 . . . . . 12

The Black Road by Danny Taylor ‘18 . . . . . 13

Artwork: Young Man by Ben Russ ‘17 . . . . . 13

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Game Day by Nicholas Graham ‘18 . . . . . 14

Artwork: Bird on Branch #1 by Nate Kiley ‘17 . . . . . 14

Sundays by Andrew Martin ‘18 . . . . . 15

Monday Morning by Andrew Tedeschi ‘18 . . . . . 15

Darkness by Anthony Shea ‘18 . . . . . 16

Photo: Empire State Building by Jake Belzek ‘19 . . . . . 16

There is a Storm by John McEachern ‘17 . . . . . 17

Friday Night Lights by Tyrone Abrahams ‘18 . . . . . 18

Artwork: “L” by Anakin Geisler ‘18 . . . . . 18

Golden Hour by Gavin Sherban ‘18 . . . . . 19

Photo: Sunset by Trevor Hayes ’20 . . . . . 19

Stop Me from Dreaming by Ian Schumacher ‘18 . . . . . 20

Artwork: Dreaming Youngster by Zongda Yang ‘17 . . . . . 20

Harmony and Discord by Kyle McLaughlin ‘18 . . . . . 21

Photo: Jellyfish by Ryan Holgerson ‘19 . . . . . 21

Artwork: Anonymous . . . . . 21

Photo: Blue Hills by Mike Martin ‘17 . . . . . 22

Journey by Joshua Rigsby ‘18 . . . . . 22

There is no better place by Liam Milewski ‘18 . . . . . 23

Photo: Ear of Corn by Nicholas Graham ‘18 . . . . . 23

The Time Before and After by Logan Panzarella ‘18 . . . . . 24

Photo: Sailboats by Trevor Hayes ‘20 . . . . . 24

I still feel it by Jesus Rohas Lancha ‘18 . . . . . 25

Photo: Tree Scar by Garrett Prushinski ‘19 . . . . . 25

There is no offseason by Owen Lally ‘18 . . . . . 26

Artwork: “X’s” by Zachary Matthews’17 . . . . . 26

Poem by Sean Lenehan ‘18 . . . . . 27

Artwork: Young Man’s Face by Matthew Lyons ‘18 . . . . . 27

Midnight Prairie by Seth-Adam Gilman ‘18 . . . . . 28

Photo: Sunset by Kevin Reagan ‘19 . . . . . 28

Swish by Jon Parenteau ‘18 . . . . . 29

Artwork: Face and Musical Notes by Nate Kiley ‘17 . . . . . 29

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— Short Stories —

Isaac’s Journey by Chet Vogt ‘18 . . . . . 30

Artwork “J” by Jackson Martin ‘18 . . . . . 30

Artwork: Bird on a Limb by Nate Kiley ‘17 . . . . . 35

Jerry Westwood and His Journey . . . by Brennan McMahon ‘18 . . . . . 36

Artwork: Clothes in Closet by Benn Russ ‘17 . . . . . 37

Shadow of Darkness by Seth-Adam Gilman ‘18 . . . . . 40

Artwork “S” by Dillon Selfors ‘19 . . . . . 40

Stranded by Danny Taylor ‘18 . . . . . 46

Artwork: Skeleton by Lucas Cacace ‘19 . . . . . 46

My Talking Dog by Adrian Hyatt ‘18 . . . . . 49

Photo: Dog by Seamus Hickey ‘20 . . . . . 50

Artwork: Staircase by Benn Russ ‘17 . . . . . 52

Artwork: Lamp by Cody Eckstrom ‘19 . . . . . 57

—Fictionary — Pages 54-57

Contributors:

Ryan McNeil ‘17 Hunter Woitowitz ‘17 Peter Goggins ‘17

Mihir Khunte ‘17 Zachary Gordon '17 Zachary Taylor ‘17

Joe Olis ‘17 Brendan Civitello ‘17 Brett Myskowski‘17

Robert Larese ‘17 John McEachern’17 Tim Dardick ‘17

Nathaniel Geoff ‘17 Patrick Hocking ‘17 Alex Zukowski ‘17

Bryan Tabuzo ‘17 Sean Duffy ‘17 Chucky Menon ‘17

Ross Ayer ‘17 Tom Blanchard ‘17 Calvin Colby ‘17

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Poetry

A Night’s Walk

A neighborhood at night is a ghostly creature;

a familiar shadow - a cloudy feature. It is a blurred mirror inverted in a lake,

seen on late nights when questions keep you awake.

As in each step’s groan, your mind’s aliases talk, you turn the lock right and set off down the walk,

Passing under moonlit trees dressed in pale, green jade, you enter a world where you rarely have strayed.

The porches which you pass look so friendly by day.

They shine like a beacon when skies are drawn grey.

Yet oddly, such brightness seems to you out of place, in a sphere bathed by the street light’s subtle grace.

So back into the shadows, you plunge out of sight,

each lawn spawning phantoms that, passing, take flight. Each movement is a spark, a point in the abyss,

confusing your senses, repelling your bliss.

Then, piercing empty roads, a slowly realized sound. A low growl gets louder as a car screams ‘round.

Its sudden phantom glow mystifies passers-by, like a ghost ship in fog – both tricks of the eye?

As the alien invades what was once known,

and the two, like fallen leaves, are mixed and blown,

the deafening quiet smashes walls thought to dense, and you view the night’s thoughts through a different lens.

Then, from those rich cities you are abruptly caste out,

back by your door, a cosmos not ruled by doubt. You kick off your shoes – they are once again your own,

yet you won’t soon forget the sites they were shown.

John McEachern ‘17

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Patrick McKenna ‘17

A Fall Morning

A light breeze is in the air

Dead leaves crackle in the wind

Leaves cover the ground

Trees are all around

The colors of red and orange

A small stream flows

Its sound is smooth

All is quiet

Birds chirp breaking the silence

Morning sunlight warms the air

A serene scene it is

How peaceful it is

The sun so bright

The colors so vibrant

A fall morning in the woods

Glenn Prushinski ’18

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Pounding the Pavement

I look to my right and I see the elongated shadow of myself,

To my left are children playing; dogs racing; people walking.

I come to a crossroads, as I round the bend my shadow disappears, taken by a tree,

Only for me to find it again.

I take deep breaths of nature, crickets chirp and a dog barks as I

pass by.

The repetitive and primitive motion that calms me,

releasing the tests,

rushes to beat the bell,

And tough homework assignments.

Only one left, two down.

I am reenergized as I pass by, for the last time, the

big white saltbox with its cherry red door.

I think about the problems of the day, I see

resolutions and find a way to implement them,

And where do I experience all this?

All in a jog.

Ian M. Gelberg ‘ 19

Cole Paiva ‘19

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President of Vice

(The last two lines in each stanza are a tweet from Donald Trump)

My wives are numerous,

I have a chauffer.

"I've said if Ivanka weren't my daughter

Perhaps I'd be dating her."

My building is tall,

My interests are niche.

"The beauty of me

Is that I'm very rich."

I'm the best ever,

I'm nonconforming.

"It's freezing and snowing in New York -

We need global warming."

I don’t follow rules,

I'm very uncouth.

"My Twitter has become so powerful

That I can actually make my enemies tell the truth."

Hillary is a liar,

She oozes hypocrisy. "This election is a total sham and a travesty.

We are not a democracy."

She's very sick, She's going to croak.

"I've never seen a thin person Drinking a Diet Coke."

I was going to unleash my Twitter,

I think I'll refrain "Make America

Great Again."

Andrew Miano ‘17

Luke Bassett ‘20

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BALANCE.

water

cold water

cold wet water

smooth cold wet water

slick smooth cold wet water

freezing slick smooth cold wet water

controlling freezing slick smooth cold wet water

air

warm air

dry warm air

dry windy warm air

loud dry windy warm air

blinding loud dry windy warm air

open blinding loud dry windy warm air

find your balance…

Andrew Reagan ‘18

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Reed Cotthaus ‘19

A world with emotions

In a society where emotions were now extinct

There was this one particular girl who had the

obsolete ability to feel.

To fully understand her and her emotions they related

them to the conditions of the weather:

She was often like a sunny day,

Filled with warmth and comforting, even a welcoming

feeling.

Sometimes she was like a rainy day though.

Nobody knew what was in store then,

She could be calming at one point, but downpour at any

given moment.

Other days she could be adventurous and daring,

Like a single rain cloud floating in the clear sky

where it seemed like everyone around but her knew what

they were doing.

She did have her clear days like the others though,

Knowing exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it

done.

She could even give you the cold shoulder like a gust

of the harsh winter wind in a bitter blizzard,

A sharp cold that left a lingering sting.

Without emotions, she would be like the world without

weather;

She would be purposeless.

Antonio Martinez ‘18

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Surf

Paddling into the blue

On a warm sunny day

A wave crashes overhead

I duck-dive to get out

Late drop in on a big set

Take a hard left

Charging down the line

Backside pumping

A wall of water surrounds me

Trapped inside of the light blue barrel

Time slows down

Water splashing everywhere

I approach the outside

The barrel spits me out

I soar through a wall of white water

I look back as the wave is closing out

Connor Romeo ‘18

Will Edyman ‘19

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Package Store

Water in the pot—The boiling water;

After it bubbles, drop the ramen in,

Smell, smell the smelly smell smell

The ramen attracts all those who dare

Like the oceans waves, Ramen is mesmerizing

Boiling, undulating waves—Heaps of Japanese noodles

Toward the smell hungry men follow, laughing, full of anticipation

When it finishes, you will be satiated

Add the sauce and the smell will travel

At an infectious pace, an infectious scent

The sound and smell alone can bring men to their knees

Legend surrounds these mysterious noodles

Some say they are a gift from God himself

Others believe it is too good – A lie from Satan

But in the end, you can find them

In the package store

Joe Molski ‘18

Jackson Martin ‘19

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The Black Road

Nothing was visible for more than 5 feet.

The sound of glass breaking and silence.

Small lights in the distance, but very few to see.

I see a glance of light moving toward me.

Another is standing right by its side.

They are coming in fast and not slowing down.

I turn and start to run, but its too late they are too fast.

The lights start to beep so I stop.

My heart rate starts to slow as I relax.

Just another car passing with no awareness of me.

As I continue down The Black Road my feet start to speed up.

They panic and won’t let up.

I soon start to realize I wasn’t even moving.

I wasn’t even awake.

Danny Taylor ‘18

Ben Russ ‘17

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Game Day Going to bed the day before

Knowing what tomorrow brings

Dreaming about the day to come

It’s easy to wake up

No hesitation to get out of bed

Wearing your jersey loud and proud all day

Nervously thinking about it all day

How are you going to play?

Are you going to score?

All these questions and more just getting you ready

Time is ticking on the clock for school to end

The game is just that much closer

After school, you start to get ready

Getting changed and focused on the task ahead

Listen to that pregame music to get in the zone

Warming up, trying to get warm in the cold

The sounds of everyone else getting ready getting ready

You know it will be a good game with a good warmup

The pre-game huddle, everyone getting hyped

Coach brings everyone in for that starting lineup

You’re not on it

All the work

All that preparation

To sit on the bench and watch other kids play

Nicholas Graham ‘18

Nate Kiley ‘17

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Sundays

Feeling like a lazy day

Waking up late

I’m never getting dressed

Waiting to watch football

Hoping for a win

Sitting by the fire

Warm and comfortable

The soup is ready

Feel its warmth running down my throat

Then I realize the weekend is over

I start to worry

I do all my homework that night

Then I go to sleep

Wait for next weekend

So I can do it all again

Andrew Martin ‘18

Monday Morning

I am too tired for the morning of Monday.

I woke before the brake of day.

The drive dark, foggy, and eerie.

Cranky and tired I sleep on the ride over.

The day starts too early but I am here.

This day starts as a lonely one as no one is here.

I am even more cranky as I finish homework there.

As I sit alone I develop a hunger for breakfast that was forgot.

I crave something sweet to cure me and count the money I got.

There is just too much in the agenda leftover.

It is no use since I have no excuse to explain my laziness.

Once I have finally finished I rush over to buy my morning snack.

I pay for my donut and go back to sit alone at the table.

I am now happy for my donut will fill my empty stomach.

Now I am filled with joy and ready for this dreaded day called Monday.

Anthony Tedeschi ‘18

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Darkness

I could feel my eyes wide open, but I couldn't tell for sure

The mysterious sounds around me sparked my curiosity

My sense of sight was being blocked by the cold winter night

The frigid night got constantly worse, when a chilling breeze

rushed upon me

However, trying to stay warm

is the least of my concerns at this time

My curiosity returns, I ponder what is all around me

The situation begins to remind me

of the nightmares I would have as a child

Eerie creatures luring me closer to them by calling my

name

But how could I tell what creatures they were?

Good, bad, scary, evil, friendly, or dangerous

I could never know

My mind imagines what I would see if a light

came upon me

Where I was, what I was doing, who I was with,

or why I was here

All of these questions would be answered if only it weren't so dark

But these questions would never be answered Because all the darkness

looks the same

Anthony Shea ‘18

Jake Belzek ,19

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There is a Storm

There is a Storm

a dark cloud thundering from above,

crashing through a day that sits peaceful, like a dove.

Swept up in its strong gales, the earth becomes the sky,

and we are blinded by its rain until we reach the eye.

There is a Wave

coming to sink our noble ship,

to drown our stories and songs, to fill with water our lips.

We trained for such things and drilled since we were cadets,

yet we forget the old captain’s words and pay interest on his debts.

There is an Army

always encamped around our gates,

“they took us once, but never again,” we say to tempt the fates.

We have learned from our past, so our walls they’ll never force,

still, each and every time, we accept their Trojan horse.

There is a Trickster

who throws shadows at our door,

terrifying, yet earnest, he pulls us from what we stand for.

He takes away our potential, he takes away our peace,

and from him alone, our freedom is precariously leased.

There is Something coming

thought it is never what we expect.

It can’t be stopped or destroyed, just preached by the intellect.

In each new century, our minds it will come to possess,

for as always, at Feeling’s demand, our society will undress.

John McEachern ‘17

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FridayNight ights

Anakin Geisler ‘18 You play as if today is your only chance Some say, “It’s just a game.” But to you, it is much more than that Put in the hard work every week to achieve the fame When hard-earned Victory is finally at hand, There is no better feeling Fans screaming and shouting in excitement Have the doubters ever felt the glory pouring down from the stands? You go out on the field and make it happen No one wants to hear, “Well, at least I tried.” Hard work and perseverance are key for success Make the big plays and provide for your team Falling short of victory is possible But you grind and grind in order to succeed Game heroes get remembered But the legends never die Blood, sweat, and tears during the week Step between the lines and it's a fight Victory is the one thing we all seek My God, we all live for the Friday Night Lights Tyrone Abrahams ‘18

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Golden Hour

Beep. Beep, beep I woke up to the alarm

Lying and waiting for it to go off again Beep, beep, beep

I got out of bed and stumbled to put on clothes

Grabbed my phone, put on my shoes and headed toward the door I walked into the garage grabbed a chair and left

Walked the mile to the field and set up

Trevor Hayes ‘20

I sat in my chair on the hill looking over the dark field Then, the sun finally creeped over the mountain and tree line

It shined is light over the whole field The color of pure gold encapsulated my whole vision

Never have I seen anything as magnificent as this

Once green grass was now gold Light shimmering off of the morning dew

Trees covered in gold leaves surrounded the whole field

The sun started to rise higher and higher Slower and slower the gold started to fade

Gold grass and gold leaves were turning back to green And the magnificent golden hour left me to return the next morning

Gavin Sherban ‘18

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Stop me from dreaming

Stop me from dreaming

Stop me from flying

Stop me from dying

‘tis no fun to die

Likewise we are meant to end

My love for dreaming is realistic

My desire to fly is endless

My destiny to die is inevitable

My life is meant for fun

My wife will accept me for who I am

The life of a dreamer is hectic

The life of a flyer is thrilling

The life of myself is endless

However, death is meant for all

I will not accept death

For there is too many things to live

for

I will not accept death

For my strength and desire to live is

too great

Ian Schumacher ‘18

Zongada Yang ‘18

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Harmony and Discord

In the beginning there was chaos

An abstract form of commotion and fear

It grows continuously and won’t stop

It will consume the world if its balance is not present

Fortunately

harmony is

always present in

the world

Harmony will

never fade

It shall never

prove ineffective

Where there is

discord, there is

harmony

One cannot exist without the other

There must be balance for the world to

exist.

Harmony and discord,

fire and ice

Two different forces made to combat one another

Each one helps maintain the peace

Harmony for goodness/Discord to strive against

Fire to purify/Ice to contain

Kyle McLaughlin ‘18

Ryan Holgerson ‘19

Anonymous

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Mike Martin ‘17

Journey

A journey is like the sea, spanning for as far as one can see

Waves lay dormant, awaiting the next wind to awaken them

When a journey ends, another begins.

Every journey requires a journeyer,

One to keep it company

A journey remembers companions past

Each step a relic of its old friends

Each print a memory of better times

Alas these memories get soon replaced by others

A journey walks along with its friend

Seeing them off in the beginning and waiting at the end

A journey can take many forms, like a mound of clay

Some in the moment and others in the mind of a journeyer

This makes all journeyers dreamers

The journeys of the mind leave their journeyer disheartened

For they awake to find their mirage was mere vanity

Those who seize the moment to journey, however, are dreamers of the day

For they act upon their dreams and make them real.

Joshua Rigsby ‘18

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There is no better place

There is no better place than on the field,

In the night or during the day,

During the warm or during the cold,

Or in the rain or in the sun.

Whatever the sport,

It’s better to be out there,

Playing your hardest

Than watching from a chair.

When the whistle blows and the game begins,

And a rush of adrenaline overcomes your body,

You sweat and run through pain,

All just to win the game.

Whether a win or a loss,

Whether injured or healthy,

Being part of a team is all that matters,

Whether champions or losers it doesn’t matter.

Liam Milewski ‘18

Nicholas Graham ‘18

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The Time Before and After

Windy skies and crisp leaves,

Red apples and pumpkin pies.

Why does this time of year feel so sweetly?

All this comes to an end.

When the windy skies become harsh and cold

When the leaves die out and are covered up

When all the pumpkins have rotted.

The trees become skeletons,

Only having the frame that once supported life.

The air is piercing as if being stabbed.

The time before this was enjoyed in vain.

The only thing that is thought,

Is the time after this brutal darkness.

A time when the bear wakes and birds sing.

Trevor Hayes ’20

It becomes warm and fruitful.

This time feels so far away,

During the emptiness that is now.

But without this emptiness,

The time that we enjoy so dearly

Wouldn’t be enjoyed at all.

Logan Panzarella ‘18

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I still feel it I still feel it,

I know you also do.

Promise it is not only me,

But it is you too.

So many things I haven’t said

Just because being afraid.

So many things to live for

And it’s only you and me.

I want to feel free

Like in the past I did.

I can only by writing these lines

Which don’t come from my brain

But from my heart.

You already know that they give nothing away

We have to fight for our way.

But don’t worry you are not alone:

I am by your side.

We are both facing darkness

But trust me

Because at the end

That little piece of light

Will become a whole world

Where both you and me

Will always be free

Jesus Rojas Lancha ‘18

Garrett Prushinski ‘19

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there IS no offseason

There is no offseason for a runner.

Winter is indoor track.

600’s and 3K’s and 4 by 8’s galore.

Spring is outdoor track.

The season starts with a blistering cold

And ends hotter than the sun.

Summer is when most people rest.

But for a runner it is the exact opposite.

The summer is what determines how good you will be next year.

It is gearing up for the big game.

It is getting ready for our main event.

It is preparation for our favorite season.

Autumn is Cross Country,

And a runner couldn’t be happier when he or she hears that.

Cross Country is the greatest season of all.

The stakes are higher,

The teams are smaller,

The weather progressively gets better,

And it all boils down to one race.

Whether your team’s goal is to win your conference,

Or to win your class,

Or to win states,

Or even New England’s,

It will all come down to one race.

Whoever performs best on that day, will win.

That is why we love cross country.

The better team will always win.

Owen Lally ‘18

Zachary Matthers ‘17

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Poem

As I sit here and ponder on what I should write I begin to think back at the poem I wrote in 8th grade It was a haiku and went like this: “I jump off buildings I die when I hit the ground People will miss me” One may ask, why write this And I say why not It was funny at the time

My teacher did not think so She sent me to the office And I had to explain why I wrote such a haiku I said because I thought it was funny Like my teacher, the office did not find it funny either I was given my first detention It made me very sad The end

Sean Lenehan ‘18

Matthew Lyons ‘18

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Midnight Prairie

Night falls on the prairie

The dim light of the moon shines over the fields of grass

A cool breeze spreads across the prairie

The grasses sway back and forth

The mother rabbit leads her babes into their burrow,

They cuddle next to each other for the cold night.

A herd of bison settle down, each lying next to the other conserving warmth,

The males of the herd stay up

protecting their families.

Prairie dogs curl up in their dens,

Each full of food from a day of

gathering.

Owls soar in the night sky,

Hoping to get a meal to feed their

families.

A lone fox hunts for its midnight

meal,

Anxious for food that it has not had

in a long time.

Field mice hide aware of the danger

that night brings,

Each wondering if their spot will conceal them.

The night is quite except for the sounds of the breeze.

On a hill a small cabin is lit by a single candle.

Inside a family sits around telling stories of days gone by.

The home is filled with laughter and cheer.

The light in this house never goes out,

It shines like a beacon in the darkness and coldness of the midnight prairie.

Seth-Adam Gilman ’18

Kevin Reagan ‘19

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Swish The buzzer sounds The game begins

the bounce of the ball is the only sound

as the ball is passed through the air from one to another

its is like watching poetry in motion

the fans cheer as the ball goes through the net

I love the sound of the ball swishing through the net

the whistle sounds

timeout

players and coaches huddle together on their bench to decide

how to make the ball go through the net once more,

as the other team huddles together to make sure that doesn’t happen,

the whistle blows

time resumes

you hear the squeak of sneakers

as the teams come back out onto the court

the ball begins to bounce again

up the court the ball is thrown

to their awaiting guard with all the pressure of the world on his shoulders

the ball flies through the air

the buzzer sounds

swish

I hate the sound of the ball swishing through the net.

Jon Parenteau ‘18

Nate Kiley ‘19

30

—Short Stories —

Jackson Martin ‘18

Isaac’s ourney

By Chett Vogt

Isaac Thatcher took a moment to take in his surroundings. A brilliant white,

broken only by scattered trees and their bare, bony branches, filled his pupils. His first

thought was not where he was, but how starved he felt. How long ago was his last meal?

What was it?

“Where am I?” This he said out loud, and it came to him as a shock. He had no

idea where he was or how he got there.

He felt the cold next. It bore into his bones as if his skin was made of rice paper.

His light fleece sweater and his weathered jeans did almost nothing to stop the onslaught

of frost. Isaac was smart enough to know that he needed to find shelter fast, or he would

freeze to death. He began to walk.

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Walking turned out to be not such a simple task. With each step, he sunk into the

deep ice-layered snow-scape. After what seemed like an eternity, Isaac stopped to rest.

He leaned up against a tree and began to recount what he had found while he was

walking. In his pocket was a jet black, flip lighter, which produced a spark but no flame,

and the remnants of a granola bar, which he had scarfed down hungrily. Things were not

looking good.

Just as Isaac began thinking that the forest was endless, he came upon railroad

tracks. The rails were gently peeking out of the snow, and if he was looking up he would

have missed them. Knowing time was crucial, he quickly decided to go to his right down

the rails. Right was right, right?

The tracks held straight for about thirty minutes of walking, when the first curve

came into view. Fog was just beginning to move in when he caught his first sign of

civilization. A train car was sitting on its side derailed. He hurried over, hoping to find

something, anything. He called out when he got close, but there was no answer. After a

quick sweep around the large, orange-tinted container, he looked inside. There was

nothing except a few barrels which he could barely make out. He dragged each into the

snow, so he could better inspect them. All were empty except one, which contained a

jerry can. The can was far from full, but there was fuel left over. He remembered his

lighter and took it out. Removing the cap, he carefully poured in as much fluid as the

lighter would hold. He spilled a little, but eventually it was full. When he turned to go, he

saw that the world had transformed. He could not see twenty feet ahead of him before fog

blocked his view. Knowing quite well he would never find anything if he ventured out

32

now, he decided to rest in the train car. Getting into the farthest corner from the open

door, he laid back to rest. He did not realize how tired he was until he sat down. Within

five minutes he had fallen asleep and begun to dream.

The dream came on suddenly, like a flash from a camera. He was in a small,

single engine plane, and he was falling. Looking through the windshield, he could see

the very woods in which he had awakened. It was careening towards him, coming closer

and closer. Suddenly, his eyes jerked open. He sat upright, covered in sweat. This was no

ordinary nightmare. Isaac took a moment to calm himself, then thought about what he

had just seen. His dream was part of his memory. He must have crash landed in the

forest. If that were the case, where was the plane? Why didn’t he stay with it? Isaac’s

thoughts were soon cut out by the aggressive and frantic sounds of an animal galloping

toward him. There was a bark, a growl, and a sudden “thwomp” of something heavy

landing on the snow. Isaac was scared, but intrigued, he moved closer to the doorway of

the train car. Ragged, deadly breathing was accompanied by the sound of ripping flesh.

Isaac had seen enough television to know that this was the kill of a wolf. Peeking out the

door, he could see by the faint light of the moon an animal tearing at something in the

snow not more than twenty feet away. Isaac crawled slowly back into the relative safety

of the car, hoping the wolf would not see him. He did not know how hungry the creature

was.

He didn’t sleep well for the rest of the night, and because of that he didn’t have

any more dreams. He was awakened by the sun shining through the slit that he had left in

the doorway of the train car. Within five minutes, he was up and moving the door out of

33

the way. The sun was absolutely brilliant, and shone onto the snow and back into his

eyes. He was blinded by it all until his eyes focused, and he started to make out some

details of his surroundings. There were branches scattered about in the snow, and there

were light trickles of water dripping down from the sides of the valley in which the rails

resided. He began to think of how thirsty and hungry he was. That’s when he

remembered the struggle from the previous night. Looking to his right, he saw the

mutilated body of a deer. He turned his head away quickly, knowing what he had to do in

order to survive. He decided to make it as civilized as possible. He built a small fire using

sticks and bark next to the deer, and while the fire was burning, he went and drank water

from the rocks. When he came back, he added sticks to the fire, and soon it was blazing.

The next part Isaac did not like very much. He had to tear the meat out with his hands,

which was a grueling task mentally and physically. Using a sharp stick, he thoroughly

cooked the meat over the fire. When he thought it was ready, he devoured his meal, and

was surprised to find that it didn’t taste bad. Or maybe it did, and he was just so hungry

that he didn’t care.

The smell from the food was something that never occurred to Isaac. He had

forgotten that he was not alone. Within five minutes, from behind, he heard a deep,

sinister growl. He turned to see a lean, black wolf advancing, its jaws slightly parted.

Isaac froze, unsure what to do. The wolf came closer, then stopped. It seemed to notice

the roaring flame behind Isaac. Immediately, Isaac picked up the change in the wolf’s

behavior. Keeping his eyes riveted on the animal, he countered, getting the fire between

himself and the animal. He struggled to think of some way of escape. The wolf was

almost half his size. There was no way he could fight it. The fire was dying, and he had to

34

make a decision quickly. Isaac waited as long as he dared to see if the wolf would

disappear, but it didn’t. The fire was nothing more than small flames now, and Isaac

knew he had to move. Walking slowly backward, he kept his eyes on the hound, who

kept its eyes on him. Isaac managed only a few more steps before the fire was out

completely, and the beast lunged forward. Isaac turned and with all his energy ran

headlong down the tracks.

Isaac had never run for his life before. It was an exhilarating feeling. The world

rushed past him as his legs flew. He could still hear the wolf chasing after his food, and

close. Isaac looked over his shoulder for a second, only to see that the wolf was already

gaining on quickly him. He had a split second to make another decision. There was steep

hill to his right, he didn’t know how far down it went. If he continued running he would

be run down and become lunch. Making a sharp turn right, he leaped with the last of his

strength onto the snow-covered slope. He did not stick the landing. He bounced and

began to tumble uncontrollably wherever gravity pleased. The whole world blurred, and

he instinctively kept his eyes closed. He felt like he would never stop being tossed like

laundry. Then, to his surprise, he began to slow until skidding a couple feet on ice, he

came to a stop. The sky seemed to pivot around him as his body screamed with pain. He

had not expected it to be this harsh. He listened for the pursuer but heard nothing except

the sound of the wind blowing through the trees above. That was the last sound he heard

before losing consciousness.

Isaac’s dream was different this time. He could see himself loading mail and

supplies into a single-engine prop plane at a small, rural airport. Then, the scene changed,

35

and he was up in the air, flying above a thick set of wintery clouds. Then, he was

scrambling with the instruments, trying to make them respond, but they simply refused.

Isaac remembered it all now; how the plane had suddenly shut down, as if commanded by

a higher power, and plummeted towards the earth. The scene changed once again. Isaac

was upside down in the cockpit, hanging in the treetops. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he fell

almost two stories before slamming his head on the ground. At the moment of impact, he

woke up. His eyelids felt as if they were coated in lead, as did his whole body. He started

moving his fingers, then his hands, and then finally his arms and legs. He sat up slowly,

and looked at where he had landed. It was hard like a rock but smooth like . . . a road.

Isaac had landed on a road! With newfound strength, he struggled to get up, and looked at

the sun.

He would head south.

Nate Kiley ‘19

36

Jerry Westwood and His Journey Back in Time

By Brendan McMahon ‘17

Jerry Westwood was a fourteen year old boy from Cincinnati who adored the game of

baseball. He collected baseball cards and tried to listen to every Reds game on the radio at night.

His favorite player ever was Pete Rose. He watched highlights of Rose hitting, running the bases

and making the game fun. Remarkably, he also had a game jersey Pete Rose wore in the 1975

World Series. Somehow Jerry’s dad had gotten it for him when Jerry was very young. His dad

disappeared when Jerry was just three. To this day nobody knew what had happened to him.

Jerry’s mom worked two jobs, so she was never home. Jerry Westwood had always been

a bit of an outsider in life and in school. At lunch he read stats off the back of baseball cards and

during class he daydreamed about meeting Pete Rose.

One Friday night in mid-October, Jerry finished his dinner and went up to his room. He

turned on the radio, and began listening to the Cincinnati Reds versus the Atlanta Braves playoff

game. The Reds announcer began talking about Pete Rose and his addiction to gambling and,

whether or not, Rose should be a Hall of Famer. Jerry had always been mad that Rose’s

reputation was tarnished because of all the gambling, and always wished he could do something

about it. As the announcer talked, Jerry gazed across the room at the dirt-stained jersey. It hung

in a glass case on his wall. His mom had always forbidden him to touch it because it was such a

valuable piece of memorabilia. And according to Jerry’s mom, nobody had even breathed on it

since Jerry’s dad went missing.

37

Mrs. Westwood was working that night, and Jerry began to think. Would be okay if he

took the jersey out of the case? Just for a minute. He walked across the room feeling the floor

creak as he got closer to the jersey.

Benn Russ ‘17

He knew he shouldn't, but he had always wanted to feel Pete Rose’s 1975 World Series,

game-used top. He stopped in front of the case and stared. Then he slowly put a hand on the

glass door and opened it. He could smell the scent of the jersey and wondered if he should go

any further. Thinking his mom would never find out, he reached out and removed the jersey from

the case. That’s when a shock of adrenaline hit him and his eyesight went black.

He started to freak out, but then, very faintly, he began to smell the scent of fresh grass.

He wondered how he could have gotten outside. Then he heard thousands of people cheering,

and he grew even more confused. A minute later his vision started to come back. At first he saw

just a blur of people and baseball stands, but as his vision grew clearer, he looked around to see

that he was actually in a baseball stadium. He looked up at the scoreboard. It said Pete Rose was

coming to the plate. The crowd began chanting Rose’s name. Jerry was in a state of complete

38

amazement unsure if he was dreaming or not. He looked back down at the field and saw 1975

World Series spray-painted behind home plate. Then he heard the crack of a bat, and watched the

ball head toward the wall, sail over it and leave the park for a home run. The crowd went crazy.

Jerry had nothing else to do but stand and clap for his favorite baseball player of all time. When

he sat down, a few drops of beer from the person behind him dripped on his head. He turned and

made eye contact with a man dressed in Cincinnati Red attire who, for some reason, looked

eerily similar to himself. The man gazed down at Jerry and asked nervously, “You touched the

jersey didn’t you?”

Absurdly confused, Jerry looked at him and replied, “What are you talking about? What

jersey?”

The man continued to stare at Jerry and said, “I didn’t die, son. That jersey does things

unimaginable. That jersey sent us back in time. I have been stuck here for eleven years!”

“Dad . . . is that you?”

The man answered, “Yes, Jerry! Come sit next to me, so we can enjoy this World Series

game, but there are only two ways you can get out of here: if you convince Pete Rose to stop his

gambling or if you touch the jersey he’s wearing tonight.” Jerry stepped over his seat and

proceeded to the empty seat next to his father. He just sat there in absolute shock looking from

his father to the game and back to his father.

Pete Rose’s home run proved to be the only run needed as the Reds won 1-0.

The crowd began to filter out, and Jerry asked his father, “What do I do, dad? How do I

get to him?” His father explained that there was a back door which led to the Red’s locker room.

He and his dad then slipped down three empty concrete stairwells and eventually come to a door

39

reading Reds’ Clubhouse. His dad then told Jerry that he couldn’t go any further—that only one

of them could go back to their regular lives.

After minutes of resisting and a heartbreaking goodbye, Jerry finally opened the door to

the clubhouse. Security wasn’t there yet because they were still on the field waiting for

everybody to leave.

Standing inside the door, Jerry heard footsteps coming from the other side of clubhouse

as Pete Rose walked in. He saw Jerry, walked over quickly and told him to hide behind the door.

“Hey, kid, you can’t be in here! If anybody sees you, you’ll be in a lot of trouble!”

Shivering with nervousness, Jerry replied, “Mr. Rose, you’re my favorite player, but I

have to tell you something really important.”

“Make it quick, kid. You gotta get out of here!”

“Mr. Rose, I’m from the future. You can believe me or not, but I know about your

gambling addiction. You are the greatest player ever, and they will not let you into the Hall of

Fame because of the gambling.”

Rose exclaimed, “Get out of here, kid! You got no place sayin’ that to me, and I better

never see you again!” Other players started to flood into the clubhouse. "I don't know who you

are, and what you know, but you need to get out of here before anybody hears you talking like

that!" Rose pushed Jerry out the door and as he did, his jersey sleeve wiped right across the

letters on Jerry's tee shirt. That’s when Jerry received another jolt of adrenaline. His eyesight

went black and his ears went numb.

A few seconds later, he felt a cold sensation on his back. His eyesight came back, and he

found himself staring up at a plain white ceiling. That’s when he realized he was laying on the

hardwood floor in his bedroom. The Pete Rose jersey lay next to him. Jerry began to wonder

40

about what had just happened, how he went back in time, and that his dad was still alive. He

touched the jersey again, but this time nothing happened.

Just then Jerry heard his mom walking up the stairs. She opened the door and exclaimed,

"Jerry, what are you doing laying on the floor with the Pete Rose jersey?!"

Jerry replied with what he thought was easiest, "Nothing, mom."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dillon Selfors ‘19

hadow of Darkness

By Seth-Adam Gilman

“Three minutes till touchdown,” announced the copilot over the intercom. The Shuttle

began to shake on entry due to the dense atmosphere of Arkalia Five, a remote planet in the Vega

quadrant. Sentinel Lyons pondered how long he had been fighting for the Empire in the conflict.

Loudly and to no one in particular he muttered, “Five bloody years. That’s how long it took the

Empire of the Hand to push the Confederacy of Arkalainia out of the Vega quadrant.” The

conflict had started when Empire scouts found a new habitable world. The Empire quickly

rushed in with their colony ships and began construction of the cities that would mark man’s

great expansion in the galaxy. The Empire had no idea that an Alien nation called the

41

Confederacy of Arkalainia had already constructed cities and had resided on the planet for a

millennium. The Confederacy had designated Arkalia Five as their religious capital.

The first contact between the Empire and the Confederacy on Arkalia Five occurred in a

small Arkalainian village on the edge of a vast desert in the year 2352. An Empire scouting party

consisting of six soldiers was preforming reconnaissance when they entered the village. It

consisted of six small mud huts set in a circle, and it appeared abandoned. The soldiers fanned

out checking each hut carefully but not finding any sign of life. The patrol linked up at the last

hut, and after clearing, it began to move out. Suddenly, the sand kicked up around the patrol

blinding their vision. The soldiers instinctively linked arms to maintain formation and managed

to move a few yards before they were unexpectedly vaporized. When the patrol failed to report

in, other units converged on their last known location. The Confederacy, also en route to the

same village, had a regular scheduled supply drop to this outpost. The drop contained supplies

and water. In short order, Empire patrols, searching for their missing comrades, and the

Confederacy supply convoy stumbled upon one another. The Empire patrols assumed the

Confederacy supply convoy had killed their brethren. The Confederacy supply convoy believed

these enemy patrols had slain the inhabitants of the village. It was never determined who fired

first—just that a firefight raged for hours and the Empire patrols were victorious. The incident

would cause a five-year war and lead a young soldier named David Lyons through a gauntlet of

personal and professional challenges. Recruit Lyons had not just survived the fight in the desert

village. He had evolved into combat machine and was elevated the rank of Sentinel, the top

enlisted personnel in command of a battalion.

42

Now, five years later, Lyons, strapped to his booster frame, awaited the command to

jettison down to Arkalia Five in order to seek out and destroy the enemy he had come to hate.

The Sentinel’s enhanced external armor distinguishes him from the regular soldier. This armor is

coated forest green and plated with Titanium alloy, the left shoulder board striped in white, while

the right shoulder board is striped in red. Lyons wore a full face helmet, tactical equipment and

communications gear. He had become the most feared and respected leader in his battalion. The

alarm on the shuttle sounded, and the jettison light flashed. The pilot quickly announced, “The

jump zone is active,” and Lyons replied with, “Thanks for the ride.” As he and his men jumped,

a towering sea of trees came into their view. At its center was the drop zone. Lyons could hear

the wind scream as he sailed to the ground. The booster frames slowed the soldiers’ descent

allowing them to land safely. When the squad had reassembled, Lyons opened the holomap of

the area saying, “This forest is the only one on this planet that will eat you alive.”

“What do we need to look out for, sir?” asked one of the troopers.

“All you men need to know is that if you hear any howling you must tell me

immediately,” Lyons exclaimed.

The five troopers looked at each other puzzled. Lyons chuckled to himself then ordered,

“Let’s move out.”

The squad quickly fell in after Lyons and pushed through the vast forest. Several hours

later, one of the men quickened his pace and caught up with Lyons.

“Sir, a moment of your time?”

“Why not, Casdin,” Lyons answered coolly.

Casdin, a young, smart and ambitious soldier, asked, “Sir, what is our objective?”

Lyons replied, “That’s classified on a need-to-know basis, recruit.”

43

Lyons then ordered Casdin to fall back in line. Lyons remembered when he too was a

green recruit five years earlier. Casdin reminded Lyons of himself.

The team continued on in silence for several miles when the Sentinel unexpectedly

stopped and signed for his squad to assume a defensive position. In front of the troopers,

standing on a rock was a Scytherance, a nocturnal predator with the body of a big cat, claws that

could slice through dura-steel and poison coated spikes on its back. It was known to shriek

whenever it found its prey. Lyons realized this creature would blow the operation if one of the

soldiers fired a shot at it giving away their location. He decided they would avoid the creature by

going around it and advised the rear guard to stay alert for more Sytherances. Soon darkness

shrouded the forest, and the squad set up camp. While the men slept, Lyons secretly searched the

area for the objective—an ancient temple said to contain a holy relic invaluable to the

Confederacy. Ancient transcripts left by the ancestors of the confederacy said that the relic had

the power to vaporize all living beings. After locating the objective, Lyons returned and woke his

men, but before he could issue any commands, a shriek resounded from the forest! Lyons knew

that the squad had only one chance of survival from the creature—to head into the protection of

the temple.

Lyons posted two men at the entry of the temple to keep watch. He then proceeded deep

into the temple with Recruit Casdin, Knight Harwell and Paladin Vargas. The four came upon a

room containing a purple amulet posed on a pedestal. Lyons stepped forward and removed the

amulet securing it in a container which he put in his pack. He proceeded to the temple entrance

when he was notified by the two guards at the entrance that the Confederacy had found them and

had set an ambush. The soldiers proceeded to find cover. The Confederacy landing craft settled

44

on the ground opening their bays and letting their soldiers disembark. Instantly these soldiers

received a hail of bullets from the Empire troopers hiding outside the temple. Stunted for only a

minute, the Confederacy soldiers returned overwhelming fire forcing the Empire troopers to

remain in cover. The two soldiers seeing the Sentinel and the others coming through the door

shouted, “Stay down and find cover!” Listening to his men’s wise words Sentinel Lyons and the

others quickly ran for what little cover could be found. Lyons announced over his HUD,

“Paladin Vargas get Knight Harwell and the other knights and follow me into the Jungle.”

Casdin, confused as to why he had been left out, asked, “Sentinel, what am I going to do?”

Lyons, lowering his pack and throwing a small container to Casdin, said, “You are to wait here

and when we draw the confederacy into the jungle, you get to the evacuation zone. If we are not

there by zero-thirty minutes, tell the pilot to take off.” Casdin gave a quick salute. Lyons and the

others darted into the jungle firing their weapons. The Sentinel remembered the Sytherance on

the rock and figured the Confederacy was no match for the beast. Lyons would set his own trap.

Quickly sprinting through the jungle, the Empire troopers were able to stay ahead of the

following Confederacy soldiers sometimes stopping to put up some pop shots keeping the

Confederacy on the defensive. Soon the troopers found the creature still laying on the rock ledge.

They quickly positioned themselves behind the beast and awaited the oncoming Confederacy

soldiers. The Scytherance, first smelling and then seeing the Confederacy soldiers, sprang off the

ledge and into the center of the on-coming troops ripping the Confederacy soldiers to shreds.

When the beast had annihilated the last soldier, it turned its blood stained face toward its next

victims, the Empire troopers. Raising their weapons the troopers would not go down easy, but

before the creature charged, Sentinel Lyons looked down his sight and fired. The creature fell to

the ground and lay still. The soldiers turned to look at the Sentinel who simply shrugged his

45

shoulders as if the creature were not even worth the bullet. Suddenly, a high pitched frequency

turned all radios off. Everyone in the squad then heard a low, raspy voice question their

commander:

“Where is it?” the voice commanded.

The troopers raised their weapons preparing for another attack. Sentinel Lyons

confidently responded, “The amulet isn’t here. You have been tricked.”

Instantly angered, the voice retorted, “No one deceives The Darkness! If I weren’t in

search of search the amulet, I would vaporize you all!”

“The object you seek is not here! Be gone, or be fired upon!” Lyons threatened.

Laughing, the voice said, “You cannot kill me! You can only be consumed!” And with

that, it vanished into the jungle.

The Sentinel organizing his men proceeded through the jungle toward the evacuation site

where they found Casdin waiting for them in the shuttle. Once everyone was secure in their

seats, Lyons addressed his troopers, “Men, you have all done a tremendous job securing the

objective. If not for your loyalty, this mission would have failed. I initiate recruit Casdin into the

battalion as a knight for his loyalty, heroism and valor. Welcome to the battalion, Knight.”

Sentinel Lyons stepped forward, shook Casdin’s hand and handed him the Knight’s sacred

medallion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

46

Stranded

By Danny Taylor ‘18

It's been 362 days since the crash and still no help. A couple planes have flown by, but

still I remain unseen in the shadows of the island. I have plenty of fresh fruit along with a spear I

made long ago to catch fish. Yesterday, I was able to catch multiple fish for the first time this

week, so I decided to start a fire to cook on. I was gathering wood and brush when I came across

a dead boar. I could tell it has been dead for at least a couple days, so did not bother to scavenge

its meat. I didn’t think anything of it until I walked past it again. This time I noticed something

strange. I flipped the boar over and saw at least fifteen stab wounds in its stomach. I quickly

rushed back to my campsite and put out the fire. That night I ate my fish raw and didn’t sleep for

more than two hours.

Today I awakened to the sound of something walking outside my tent. I didn’t dare move

until I knew it was gone. Leaving my tent, I noticed a weird reddish-blue pattern on some of the

trees. It suggested a sort of path. I knew I wasn’t safe. I grabbed my stuff, moved in the opposite

direction and set up a new campsite. Later on I doubled back and followed the path. I followed

Lucas Cacace ‘19

47

for close to an hour, but it was getting dark. When I got back to my new camp, I turned in. I fell

asleep almost immediately due to my lack of sleep. Halfway through the night, I could hear

someone whispering my name. I didn’t know if I was having an auditory hallucination or just a

bad dream. I fell back asleep.

I woke the next morning and walked out of my tent to find my name everywhere. It was

carved in the sand and on the trees. That was it! I grabbed my spear and went down the path

determined to find out what was at the other end. I started to see signs—freshly chopped trees

blocking the trail—telling me that I wasn’t welcome. I arrived at a campsite which consisted of

a fire and a sleeping area. A manila folder lay on the ground. I picked it up. I was afraid to open

it, but didn’t hesitate due to the situation. I couldn’t believe what I saw! It was a journal about

my daily activities. He had been watching me do everything! I looked further through the folder

and noticed a series of drawings. It took me a minute, but then it hit me. They were drawings of

me! He had drawings from the first couple days after the crash until today. I put everything back

together and ran back to my site.

When I got there, all my belongings were gone! There was no sign I had ever been there!

I had to find a new place safe from whoever was following me. It was growing dark, and I could

see smoke from a fire in the distance! I quickly moved as far as I could in the opposite direction,

found a sort of den, crawled in and spent the night.

I woke up to the smell of something cooking. The smell was close, and I couldn’t quite

make out what it was, but I didn’t care enough to check. I grabbed my spear and walked along

the beach to catch something to eat. I was following a young tuna above the water, and just as I

stabbed the spear through its back, I noticed something in the water. It was a closed crate from

48

the plane crash. It was heavy, but I managed to drag both it and the tuna back to my den. I spent

hours trying to think of ways to break it open. I tried hitting it with rocks, but I didn’t have one

big enough to make a dent. I decided to sleep on it figuring I would come up with an idea in the

morning.

When I woke the smell was back, but something even odder had happened. The crate was

open and there was a flare gun inside! Whoever else was on this island had opened it while I was

asleep but didn’t take it. There was one flare in the gun and three other cartridges next to it.

There probably wasn’t much purpose in keeping it because I hadn’t seen a plane in at least two

months, but it was better than nothing. I went to search for fruit later on, and as I was returning

to my den, I heard something following me. I could hear shoes crushing dry leaves on the path. I

kept walking. When I got close to my den, I dropped all the fruit and turned to see a man running

away carrying the folder I had discovered earlier. I couldn’t make out any physical features

because he was too far away. By this point, I was sick and tired of it all. I grabbed my flare gun

and ran back to his camp. It took me over an hour.

When I got there, I walked slowly over to the tent, peered in and found . . . nothing! He

must have known I was coming and run off. I got inside the tent, zipped it shut and waited. I

waited for hours, but then accidentally fell asleep. I woke around midnight and could hear him

walking around the site. I clenched my flare gun and waited for my moment. All I could hear

were the crickets and bugs making noise in the night. I lay waiting and then heard a sort of

metallic sound. It sounded like the light clink of a chain necklace. Then it hit me! He had locked

the tent! As I was panicking, wondering what to do, I accidentally triggered the flare gun. The

whole tent went up in flames! I could smell the skin on my arm starting to sizzle as I tore out of a

49

burning opening in the tent. I saw him running, and I chased after him as fast as I could not

thinking about the pain in my arm. As I did, flames leaped from tree to tree. I was gaining on

him, and he didn’t even know it! The flames kept spreading. I got within reaching distance,

jumped, and as I tackled him to the ground, caught a glimpse of his face. It was horrifying! There

were no facial features at all other than a mouth! But this mouth was different! It had hundreds of

sharp teeth! It was a horrific sight which left me utterly confused and terrified. My first reaction

was to run, but there was nowhere to go because when I looked around, I saw that the island was

engulfed in flames! I ran. I couldn’t see an entrance to anything, so I made one. I ran right

through the fire burning my entire body. I closed my eyes and kept running and running, and just

as I was about to pass out, ran right into the ocean! I screamed as the salt water sunk into my

burn wounds. I stayed there and eventually the numbing frigidity of the water eased my pain.

The fire from the island now lit up the sky, and soon I heard the sound of a helicopter. It

landed on the beach. I yelled, dragged myself out of the water, and the crew helped me aboard.

The guy or the thing that was on the island was never found. I figured he must of burned

to death, but was never sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My Talking Dog

By Adrian Hyatt ‘18

I had just finished my sophomore year of high school. Now I could finally get a dog

because it was summer, and I’d have time to train it. Once my mom came home, she took

me to the pet store. I looked around for about fifteen minutes. A grey and white bull dog

50

caught my eye. The sheet taped on the glass said he was a three year old male. He stood

out because he was the only dog trying to escape while all the others were playing. I

decided to move on though because he was a pretty ugly.

Then somebody said, “Aye, kid! If you get me outta here, I’ll give ya fifty bucks.” I

looked around and heard the voice again, “Over here!” It was the ugly bull dog who was the

trying to escape! I couldn’t believe my ears!

Seamus Hickey ‘20

“You can talk?” I asked in a confused voice.

“Yeah, and I need ya to get me outta here! C’mon! How cool would it be to have a

talkin dog?”

I didn’t think twice. “Mom, can I get this one?” I asked calmly. (I didn’t want my

mom to get suspicious as to why I was so excited about getting such an ugly dog, so I did my

best to remain calm.)

“Sure, Tim. Just have one of the employee’s take him out, so we can pay for him.”

I decided to call him Joey because he had a thick Italian accent.

On the way home, I was trying to find a way to tell my mom that Joey could talk, but

five minutes into the ride, she found out for herself. We were talking about the supplies

51

we’d need to take care of him when Joey abruptly interrupted, “Aye, can we stop at Arby’s?

I’m starvin’ over here.”

She slammed on the brakes. I knew it’d be a long summer.

After about two days my mom started to grasp the fact that Joey could talk. And

Joey started to get more comfortable with me and my mom. This wasn’t necessarily a good

thing because he wasn’t exactly a good dog. One day my mom’s friend Jasmine picked her

up, so they could go out for dinner. When my mom left, she forgot her keys on the counter

which caught Joey’s attention. I was playing my Xbox when I heard, “Aye, Timmy, let’s go

for a spin! I got ya mom’s car keys.”

“What? No! You can’t drive!” I replied.

“Yes, I can! I learned from the Grand Theft Auto 5 game you got.”

I knew not to get in a car with a dog behind the wheel, but he threatened to tell my

mom about the party I was planning to throw at the house. Damn!

He started the car, and I instantly became nervous. Things got bad immediately. Joey

backed out of the drive way and flattened Mr. Adams’ mailbox. Then after about two

minutes of reckless driving around the neighborhood, Joey crashed the car into a tree trying

to run over Mrs. Jenkins’s cat. I was freaking out so bad that I forgot to thank God for the

fact I was alive. “Holy Cripes, Timmy! You’re in big trouble, pal!” said Joey.

“What da’ya mean me? You were the one driving!” I replied in disbelief.

“You let ya dawg drive a car? What’s the matta witchu?!!”

“You black mailed me!” I screamed.

“Oh, real smawt, Timmy! Blame the dawg! Everyone’ll believe that!”

Cop sirens were coming closer and closer. Joey hopped out of the car and sprinted

straight back to the house, and I followed right behind him. Later that day the police came

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to the house because the car was identified as being owned by my mom. I ended up being

grounded for a month. I also had to go to court since they didn’t believe Joey was the one

driving. Hey, it happens!

Being stuck in the house wasn’t how I had pictured my summer. Mom was beyond

mad though, so there wasn’t anything I could do. Joey had to stay in his crate until she

came from work each day as his punishment. It didn’t really matter anyways because what

my mom didn’t know was he could let himself out. She should’ve known he was capable of

doing that. I mean he drove a car for God’s sake!

About three good days into being grounded things got bad again. I was sleeping

when a loud crash woke me up. “Joey?!”I yelled in a concerned voice. I ran down stairs to

see the flat screen on the floor with a baseball lodged in it.

Ben Russ ‘17

“Why’s there a baseball in the screen?” I asked tired of Joey’s shenanigans.

“I have a perfectly logical explanation. I was watchin’ the Mets game n’ was

pretendin’ I was one of the pitchas, ya know? I didn’t think it would break.”

I didn’t respond. I just went up to my room and back to bed. I never fully went to

sleep though because my mind was telling me my mom would be home from work any

53

second. Once I heard the door open, I knew things were going to get serious. She came into

the living room and instantly yelled for me to come down stairs.

“Before you yell at me, just know it was Joey who broke the TV! I was in my room

sleeping,” I said before she could blame me for what had happened.

“That’s ridiculous. Joey’s been in his crate all day. He couldn’t of broken the TV!” she

yelled.

Long story short, I was grounded for two more weeks. My mom left the room. Joey

just smiled.

To this day I’m still stuck with Joey, my talking dog.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

New Section!

Xavier High School’s

↓

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-Fictionary-

Most high school kids study

words and their definitions;

Xavier guys make up their own!

blurder-(v). to murder by blunt force (Ryan McNeil ’17) chowel-(n). a towel that is edible (Mihir Khunte ’17) diffigence-(n). an extreme show of vanity and self-absorption (Robert Larese ’17) flander-(v). to flop about in a fish-like manner (Nathaniel Goff ’17) flarp-(n). a mistake, an error, usually grammatical (Nathaniel Goff ’17) gazorpazorps-(n). people that have one hand attached to each side of their head (Bryan Tabuzo ’17)

grontamorphically-(adv). Improperly done—not so much that it is wrong, per se, just sort of askew (Brendan Civitello ’17) immary-(adj). about to happen (Chucky Menon ’17) johnpops-(v). telling a good story (Bryan Tabuzo ’17) patamize-(v). to physically attack another using any variety of starchy root (Considered a high crime during the Great Purge of 1673) (John McEachern ’17) ratz-(n). a slang word meaning “darn!” retrouble-(v). to bother someone again (Chucky Menon ’17)

sasatire-(n). a sadistic description of a satire (Ross Ayer ’17) sazap-(n). one who excels in adding pizazz (Chucky Menon ’17) scoffically-(adj). to speak in a brusque, sarcastic or disdaining manner (Hunter Woitowitz ’17) shunnion-(n). a vegetable that finds a way to avoid being uprooted (Joe Olis ’17) shwifty-(adj). when you get your grove on (Bryan Tabuzo ’17) sli-(adj). fluffy, but not too fluffy (Zachary Gordon ’17) tomash-(v). to mash something together in a formative manner (Robert Larese ’17) turgery-(n). a surgical procedure in which the medical professional uses his/her bare hands (Mihir Khunte ’17)

turnshirt-(n). an individual guilty of low level betrayal (Hunter Woitowitz ’17) underdoug-(n). an underdog named Doug (Ryan McNeil ’17) unmorph-(v). to lose one’s shape (Chucky Menon ’17) verapnum-(n). the noise Richard Nixon made when he shook his jowls (“With a mighty verapnum, the President left the room.”) John McEachern ‘17 weggers-(n). rich socialites originating in the Western U.S. (Bryan Tabuzo ’17) wumbo-(adj). opposite of mini; large, enormous (Chucky Menon ’17) wunderer-(n). one who appears to wonder and wander at the same time (Ross Ayer ’17) yuge-(adj). extremely large (Ross Ayer’17)

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-Dueling Definitions-

Blint blint-(n). a blinding light (Ross Ayer ’17)

blint-(adj). excessively blunt (Patrick Hocking ’17)

blint-(n). the sound one hears ten minutes after receiving a concussion (Zachary Gordon ’17)

blint-(n). belly lint (Sean Duffy ’17)

Cronkish

cronkish-(adj). grumpy, perturbed, spiteful (Peter Goggins ‘17)

cronkish-(adj). melancholy in the extreme (Ryan McNeil ’17)

cronkish-(adj). to be only partially aggressive or upset (Zachary Taylor ’17)

cronkish-(adj). tired of life (Tom Blanchard ’17)

cronkish-(adj). so lazy as to appear dead (Calvin Colby ’17)

cronkish-(adj). crass; of the lowest of classes (Zachary Gordon ’17)

cronkish-(adj). loud; out of tune (Ross Ayer ’17)

cronkish-(adj). of or relating to Walter Cronkite (Robert Larese ’17)

Fluteer

fluteer-(n). one who carries a flute (Patrick Hocking ’17)

fluteer-(n). one who steals flutes (Brendan Civitello ’17)

fluteer-(n). one who breaks flutes (Mihir Khunte ’17)

fluteer-(n). one who smuggles flutes (Sean Duffy ’17)

fluteer-(n). one who walks lightly on their feet (Hunter Weitowitz ’17)

fluteer-(n). a unit of measurement; one fluteer equals twelve flutes (Ben Russ ’17)

fluteer-(n). people who play flutes with their noses (Bryan Tabuzo ’17)

fluteer-(n). someone who plays the tuba (Zachary Gordon ’17)

Neub

neub-(n). a person without any skills, talents or positive attributes (Peter Goggins ’17)

neub-(n). the spot on the floor that wasn’t there when you swept (Brendon Civitello ’17)

neub-(n). an arm or leg that has been cut off (Nathaniel Goff ’17)

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Gring

gring-(n). the sound made by a cell phone when vibrating on a hard surface (Hunter

Weitowitz ’17)

gring-(n). showy wealth or bling displayed in particularly poor fashion (Brett Myskowski ’17

gring!-(n). the ringtone when your girlfriend calls! (Zachary Taylor ’17)

gring-(n). trick question: this is not a word (John McEachern ’17)

gring-(n). the long, thin, string-like piece of pith that runs down the center of an orange or

other citrus fruit (Ben Russ ’17)

gring-(n). a place where chicken fights happen (Alex Zukowski ’17)

gring-(n). a really ugly person; perhaps myself (Nathaniel Goff ’17)

Pharp

pharp-(v). to play the harp in an ironic manner (Patrick Hocking ’17)

pharp-(n). the sound of a balloon deflating (Zachary Gordon ’17)

pharp-(v). to forget someone’s name while talking with them (Ben Russ ’17)

pharp-(n). a person with analytical tendencies (Robert Larese ’17)

pharp-(n). a type of fish characterized by its large scales and excessive fur (Tim Dardick ’17

pharp-(v). to crush medium to large sized fruit between one’s calves, whether it be for sport or

pleasure (John McEachern ’17)

pharp-(n). an oversized harp used in concerts for the hearing impaired (Ross Ayer ’17)

Tragoonish

tragoonish-(adj). suspicious; shaddy (Ryan McNeil ’17)

tragoonish-(adj). relating to a member of the Tragoons, the elite paratoning squads of the

Great Purge of 1673 (John McEachern ‘17)

tragoonish-(adj). to be clumsy, yet strong; having an oafish quality (Ben Russ ’17)

tragoonish-(adj). unwilling to accept basic facts (Calvin Colby ’17)

tragoonish-(adj). pointless; any exercise in futility (Peter Goggins ’17)

tragoonish-(adj). silly; foolish or imbecilic behavior in serious situations (Tom Blanchard ’17)

tragoonish-(n). the environment of a sea lizard (Patrick Hocking ’17)

tragoonish-(adj). has no meaning; use at your own discretion (Brendan Civitello ’17)

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Zumphateer

zumphateer-(n). a musician who specializes in the playing of the zympha (Bryan Tabuzo ’17)

zumphateer-(n). an offbeat individual who possesses of an inordinate degree of self-confidence

(Sean Watson ’17)

zumphateer-(n). a term referring to the traveling gerbil trappers employed by Hapsburg

towns to replace Pied Pipers during the Purge of ‘73 (John McEachern ’17)

zumphateer-(n). a preppy scalawag who dons Sperry footwear and Ralph Lauren polo shirts

(Joe Olis ’17)

zumphateer-(n). one who zumphates (Ross Ayer ’17)

zumphateer-(n). one who wins an insignificant argument on social media (Tim Dardick ‘17)

zumphateer-(n). the son of a fluteer; often not a real person (Calvin Colby ’17)

zumphateer-(n). one who triumphs over an extremely embarrassing situation by poking fun at

themselves (Hunter Weitowitz ’17)

zumphateer-(n). one who makes a grand entrance! (Chucky Menon ’17).

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cody Eckstrom ‘19

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