The Tenth Muse

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The Tenth Muse

Science Park High School Literary Magazine 2016-2017 Advisor Mr. Townsend

Executive Council

Amber Haynes, Jahlin Fernandez, Joanne Mouynivong, Franchesca Ortega, Eric Lima, and Joao De Andrade The Tenth Muse is dedicated to the Executive Council. Table of Contents

Title Author Page(s)

Let Her Go Pedro Dias 1

Pistanthrophobia David Asafu-Adjaye 2

Self-Apartheid Qua'janae James 3

The Black Woman Imani Taylor 4

Restoring Our Race Maryum Bhatti 5

Overthinking Isn’t Fun Jhon Beltran 6

Reasons Amanda Barreto 7

Too Fast Nancy Ayala 8

Always There Sianna Arruda 9

Empty Words Darryn Brown 10

Momentary Escape Henry Cardona 11

The Concrete Jungle Devan Chattergoon 12

Stayed Too Soon Luana Chociai 13

The Transition Klaivert Chuquirima 14

Ravishing Reverie Ann Darrosa 15

Route 280 Joao De Andrade 16

Renewal Alexandra Dipre 17

The Blissful Secret Rubelquis D’Oleo 18

Sweet Dreams Lucianna Duarte 19

Guiding Hands Nicole Elorduy 20

Our Little Prince Louis Fernandes 21

Insomnia Jahlin Fernandez 22

My Bella Cristina Ferreira 23

Harambe Skye Ferreira 24

America’s Pastime Justin Fidalgo 25

War on Love Ricardo Figueiredo 26

For Park Sarah Freitas 27

Life Katherine Gil 28

No Longer Tania Gafanha 29

Spice Keven Gomescoello 30

Scared Puppy Yamirka Gonzalez 31

Finding Toulouse Liandra Gutierrez 32

Eternal Separation Amber Haynes 33

My Lonely Life Trinity Headen 34

Going to the Show Yunior Hernandez 35

Serendipity Kiera Husbands 36

Nightmares Joyce Jimenez 37

Angel of Joy Lovely Laguerre 38

Winter Blues Katelynn Lavin 39

Darker Than Black Yaxel Levin 40

Trapped Eric Lima 41

The Captain’s Ship Ernesto Molina 42

The Great Struggle Jadzia Muñoz 43

Dependency Adriana Noboa 44

Time Regina Oliveira 45

Cycle Ana Pinto 46

Melted Snow Jaylene Rodriguez 47

A Distant Love Sabrina Santos 48

Fluffy Friend Danny Jimenez 49

Light Daria Timura 50

End of Spring Wesley Ureña 51

The Missing Piece Kathleen Vega-Conza 52

Just Another Brick in the Wall Brian Zeas 53

All Is Lost Rocio Uzeta 54

Longing For Her Julio Torres 55

Bare Flower Danté Thomas 56

Soccer Ana Lucia Silveira 57

True Wealth Theodoro Silva 58

All The Same Wilson Pratts 59

Escaping to the Sound Jaylene Rodriguez 60 - 72

One Last Song Brian Zeas 73 - 84

Brother Trinity Headen 85 - 98

Vintage Apparel By Mr. Townsend

Eradicate all metaphors and puns That fix the mind on multi-layered meaning; Forget alliterative verse that shuns All those who think sweet melody demeaning; Eradicate inversions that invert Main clauses with their modifying phrases; Forget archaic words that do revert To courtly poets’ ornamental praises; Eradicate the meter that does hold The rhythm uniform from beat to beat; Forget constructed rhyme that does unfold A pattern of related sounds complete; For to rely on these conventions past Prevents the muse from being hence recast.

Let Her Go By Pedro Dias

The moon so beautiful stands in the sky,

Providing solace in the midst of night,

Displaying her grace to all those with eyes,

With her amazing gaze she shines so bright.

She stands so close, yet I cannot touch her,

Her beauty shines brighter than all the stars,

Time looking at her goes by in a blur,

When she leaves, I hope my heart has no scars.

Will she be there when I need her the most

To light up my sky in the wake of dark,

To make my heart move like waves on a coast,

To give me hope with her dazzling spark?

I ponder if I should follow her glow, Or lose my emotions and let her go.

(Winner of Mr. Townsend’s AP Lit 2016-2017 Sonnet Competition)

Pistanthrophobia By David Asafu-Adjaye

The calming winds are silent ’gainst a shriek,

A sea of thought, all intellect devoid;

The frame by which those lovely words you speak,

Would, into pieces die, quickly destroyed.

The waves which ’gainst the sandy shore will beat,

Might forward bring the blare of beating drums,

And pools of hope be soaked up, then deplete,

A coward’s gloomy chant calls death in hums.

And yet the air you breathe has given life,

Though one should sadly find their windpipe choked,

But fear the wisdom of the christened knife,

Which out of birth, holds danger when provoked.

The threat which stands will stem for those betrayed, The objects of trust now make you afraid.

(Finalist in Mr. Townsend’s AP Lit 2016-2017 Sonnet Competition)

Self-Apartheid By Qua'janae James

The history that is taught is filled with lies, To be born “black” is something I despise; My soul does shriek like children’s piercing cries, The stories of the past are so disguised. While you can trace generations back, Your great grandparent’s friend or foe, I think we need to face pressing facts, Being “black” is all I will truly know. Your land is but a few stops from my own, Just tell me from where did your blue ships sail, Self-hate is what we too are sadly prone, Like in the past my people will prevail. To create change, learn info that’s not new, Because like me, the truth was hid from you.

(Finalist in Mr. Townsend’s AP Lit 2016-2017 Sonnet Competition)

The Black Woman By Imani Taylor

In generation after generation,

Your beauty has been questioned and thus doubted.

The crushing pain became the base foundation,

From which a black, fierce flower thus sprouted.

Buried so deep like the forgotten treasures,

Concealed below the feet of the rude tyrant,

Suppressing cries to catastrophic measures,

The strong black woman always stands more virent.

When your skin glistens under the bright sun,

It’s clear that you are perfectly unique.

Dark, fluffy curls, makes hair days much more fun,

Great qualities make you so far from bleak.

Take pride and strut through life like a sweet queen, Black beauty is an honor to be seen.

(Finalist in Mr. Townsend’s AP Lit 2016-2017 Sonnet Competition)

Restoring Our Race By Maryum Bhatti

It's the presence of black and brown bodies

That threatens the liberty of the white man;

The hate has become part of their hobbies,

And slavery is where it all began.

From the early mornings in the cotton field

To ceaseless cruelty and oppression,

Slavery was a wound that never healed,

For it fostered a lot of aggression.

Racism itself is existing still,

Since unjust acts leave people horrified,

Getting our rights is what we will fulfill,

For this is the reason why many died.

Let us continue to uplift each other,

Because we have to move our race further.

(Finalist in Mr. Townsend’s AP Lit 2016-2017 Sonnet Competition)

Overthinking Isn’t Fun By Jhon Beltran

The thoughts I’ve dreamt will never leave the mind Though fear in strife does always love to cloud; I see that life and pain are intertwined, The worries in my head are much too loud. My home is full of oceans that are rough, I pray every day for them to recede, But hurricanes will be there sure enough, Thus, sadly, I cannot move to proceed. And once my thoughts take my mind as hostage, The storm’s waves splash and make my mind go round; Gone and dark in this horrific wastage; No! Fight, I will, to reach the clear foreground. If I could control the way my thoughts arrived, Distinct I’d be in the world of deprived.

Reasons By Amanda Barreto

The pretty colors danced a thousand hues; When you laughed, butterflies came out to play; In that moment, I knew that my world was you, You made me believe things would be okay. Spring changed into summer; I looked for shade; Your smile was warmer than the blazing sun; I couldn’t get enough, I grew afraid, Nothing lasts, but I didn’t want to run. Winter arrived, you had to say goodbye, As the snow fell, you forced me to let go; You could not stay, I will never know why, You left too soon, I could not blame you though. You were with me one day and gone the next; That’s how life works, what more can I expect?

Too Fast By Nancy Ayala

I feel my heart strike hard against my ribs; My body, fighting the deep shifty sea, The darkness and the water calling dibs, On me, how, oh! How I wish I could just flee. Then, my body goes crawling with fervent fear, I can't give into the strong evil gloom, Things slowly become a bit more unclear, And just too quickly it starts to consume. Unexpectedly, I see the bright light, Red complexion followed by orange hues, Warmth spreading like exploding dynamite, Sending away all of the sea’s abuse. And now my lungs can breathe with all their might, Leaving the dark behind, I welcome light.

Always There By Sianna Arruda

A common thought creeps slowly in my head, Why am I always thinking of just you? They say, “stay away,” I scorn them instead, You are harmful, but I cannot break through. You are always there when I am in need; You are heavenly and sweet and a blessing; If I let you go I will not succeed, But you have other lovers I am guessing. Chocolate, many don't know you’re my center, You make me feel like I’m finally whole; All I have to say is bless your inventor; Chocolate, you are a part of my soul. If you ever leave me, I will be lost, I would not replace you at any cost.

Empty Words By Darryn Brown

The lies you speak within the truths you find, My song of peace within my war-like cries, The words you say do lead to viscous mind, The fight between our hearts just slowly dies. No man upon your shoulder whispers thoughts, With none but self to place the shameful blame. The painful screams producing cynic plots, With you the one who stands in front of the flame. I kill celestial belief at first, Where no one like the other one succeeds; This fire shall not quench my patient thirst, For your solution helps not your precious needs. The question asked in order to give life To a new conflict from our ending strife.

Momentary Escape By Henry Cardona

Within this virtual reality, I play a character who camps out still; My heart is pacing with intensity, The shot reflects my overwhelming skill. Another game I play as flees and flanks, Inside the shadows towards the other team, Invisible and quick I strike their tanks, In silence, there was not a single scream. Despair and dread are wrought upon my foes, But shock attacks; my heart begins to drop; Abysmal fears upon my brow exposed; That other world must come to a firm stop. I do remember when I wore a smirk, Which was until I had to do homework.

The Concrete Jungle By Devan Chattergoon

The sun does cast its rays over the pillars, As they hide rich refined for none to see. What I’d do to see such a blinding thriller, From this restrictive world, I shall break free. The red brick walls constrict my winded breath As I crawled through every crease and each crack, They grow so tight; it leaves no room for rest, Though I feel the chains of hell pulling me back. I focused on the search for ecstasy, Smelling the fallacies with my nose, The concrete jungle was protecting me, The light did prove a threatening pose. I am face to face with that blinding light, And wish to turn back where I was alright.

Stayed Too Soon By Luana Chociai

Wiser than Plato, stronger than Hercules, Deserving more than what the world could offer; Slave to the pain, suffering by degrees, Never allowed a chance to prosper. Desiring sweet heaven and not hell, Awake into this nightmare that you knew, Expecting the bitter chimes of your church bells, All this is the real enemy of you. I loved you, but you failed me, you left me, You could have stayed and taught me so much more, Maybe all you wanted was to be free, Without you, my heart is always at war. You were my sunshine even if not for long, I thank you for showing me how to be strong.

The Transition By Klaivert Chuquirima

Years and years go by through our own eyes, The past remembers thoughts so carried on, Young pastures to humanly hopeless cries, One door is done, another one begun. Recalling one's memories once more, Only to experience the waves crash, Pulling the heart towards the unknown shore, Life being drained away with every splash. Maturing into the best you can be, Resenting the flaws committed before, Be a new individual to see, Show the whole world that you are meant for more. Transition from the naked mind of thee, Fill your life with real purpose, which is key.

Ravishing Reverie By Ann Darrosa

As I went to sleep, I commenced to dream Of many things, but one thing stuck to mind: A mongoose that had pure black color scheme, First met me with a toothy grin that shined. Despite his appearance, he meant no harm, Only good things are what he brought to me, Flashing teeth, again no cause for alarm, Out from his mouth he began to decree. That my teeth were flawed as his also were, And I evoked I never always had The straight white and pure grin that all prefer, No matter what, a crooked grin was bad. But to him, both of us had the beauty, That the real human eye could never see.

Route 280 By Joao De Andrade

Do every day I have to take the bus And leave the house where I inhale much smoke? The air is still not clean enough for us, With smog surrounding me until I choke; I feel the mucus building in my lungs, The spider webs are turning to a nest, The air gets trapped like flies on a frog’s tongue, Which makes the pressure build up on my chest; Yet I do hope that someday this will change, So I can free myself from all this haze, And then I will erase this crazy outrage, Which has consumed all of my waking days. When I do get a car, there’s no mistake, I’ll drive and do my homework at a lake.

Renewal By Alexandra Dipre

My mirror has two sides reflecting you, Feeling uninvited in my own space, I do accept but then wish to undo, My guest does walk away without a trace. Within the false creation is portrayed, Vast are the hints that I do grasp with you, The hardships were defined when you had stayed, Set were its flaws and time which you well knew. Finally chose to close the door to you; The key withheld by me for my wellness; Once was the sweet portraits most children drew, Taught me to see myself bright and endless. The thing not taught in school for a degree, My mirror has two sides reflecting me.

The Blissful Secret By Rubelquis D’Oleo

When in secret all was nearly perfect, The moon shined bright over the lovely land; None seen nor heard the beautiful conflict, And she needed no one to understand. But she knew that secrets were not forever, Yet she held on to hers like never before, The ideal secret, her love endeavored, It's something that she will always adore. Slowly the lovely waters calmly died, The sun's light shined more brightly than the moon’s, The truth and the lie were now in collide, All seemed lonely like a really sad tune. With all this in mind, she never gave in, For her love was too strong even if it was a sin.

Sweet Dreams By Lucianna Duarte

True ignorance is bliss, they do tell me, I have no worry for the things unseen, Until eyes are opened too awfully, To the untrue bliss that turns sweet dreams mean. Like the weak prey being savagely hunted, Without any knowledge of his final moment, After being caught, no longer wanted, The chase was the predator’s enjoyment. Weary from my never ending conflict, Bliss is now but a distant memory, That keeps me wide awake, to pain inflict, The constant taunting drains my energy. I long for full sweet nights of peaceful rest, That cures my haunting pain and gives me zest.

Guiding Hands By Nicole Elorduy

I had been lost, but now I’ve found the way; I was so blind, the truth I now do see, I’ll praise my savior each and every day, From awful chains of sin, I’m so set free. God shows His dying mercy and such care, And does offer eternal life in grace, He saves us from the Devil’s tempting snare, And bundles us in a warm sweet embrace. Have faith in God, although, He is unseen; Seek Him in all the things that He has made, Just pray to God, and on Him you can lean, Come to the Lord, and from the world, we’ll fade. This will make sense, someday you'll understand, But first place your trust in God’s guiding hand.

Our Little Prince By Louis Fernandes

A pilot begs to drink with his wings tied, As heat takes use and starts to change his sight; A boy not more than eight just cannot hide, Now shocking him to see a blinding light. He begged for a sheep inside of a box, The little prince was happy with this gift. He told tales of grown-ups sly like a fox, Telling more trips while being taken far by drifts. This life of being once free as a bird Is replaced by a single, constant tempest; Disastrous force makes his past be unheard, The pilot missed his dream to be an artist. Past has been forgotten, not like it should, This little prince is a sign of our childhood.

Insomnia By Jahlin Fernandez

I find myself in wish of bluer skies, I will the sun to be tomorrow bright, I look forever more for bluer eyes, And hands to lift my soul and fashion light. Long nights have made the air too cold and frail, And thoughts that hide from written word still splinter; Attempts at finding solace from frost fail, Time drifts too slowly as I turn from the winter. I plant my rows of hopefulness in you, My garden lined with patience and investment; The buds I realize do not seem to bloom, Naivety my garden’s flawed infectant. I turn my head away, vow to pretend, That I can know myself before I end.

My Bella By Cristina Ferreira

I met my best friend at thirteen years old, So young and lost, she needed a new home; I found her all alone at night so cold, For I would never leave her on her own. She was timid with fear on the first night, She did shake like a leaf on a cold day, Yet still a good girl, not wanting to bite, And from the start, I wanted her to stay. She has a loud bark, big eyes, and tall ears; Soon named Bella, she came to me when I call; She managed to take away all of my fears, Since I met her she brought a smile to all. She changed things about me one cannot see, Who knew that in reality, she found me.

Harambe By Skye Ferreira

A free spirit drifting through the smooth wind, A stunning creature making most of life, A pure, merciful soul that never sinned, A shame to have died without child or wife, A beast in the eyes of those who oppose, A gentle giant to transparent hearts, A striking resemblance that to a rose, A hindrance the thorns are to such fine art, A betrayal so foul one could not watch, A knife to the back, unfair and unjust, A tragedy, alright, yet deemed botched, A wholehearted instinct relying on trust— Despite his intentions, sweet as vanilla, No crime compares to killing that gorilla.

America’s Pastime By Justin Fidalgo

The sound of the hard ball hitting the glove, Or the feel of cleats against the soft sand, This is something more than just common love, You have to experience it firsthand. The game starts and my emotions leave, My coach scolding us for that small error, I keep my head up and roll up my sleeve, The next ball I won’t have any terror. I grip my bat and step up to the plate, The ball comes in, and it is a meatball, The pitcher is about to meet his fate, I smack the pitch over the great big wall. The game is won and my teammates crowd me, We get close and cheer on my count of three.

War on Love By Ricardo Figueiredo

Her hair, like a whip, tied me to her love; Her eyes, sharpened as they pierced my soul; An angel like this can’t be sent from above, My purpose is to bring her out of this hell hole. Her words suffocated me to her spell, Like the devil, she breathes only pure fire; How can a girl like this love me so well? She brings me such pain with her desire. Her embrace engulfs me so gently; My love has no walls around me, And with her, I can live on endlessly; We can carry on our lives so carefree. My love is seen as misunderstood, But man, I wouldn’t change her if I could.

For Park By Sarah Freitas

My mind and heart are very intertwined; Cupid has struck me, and I am in love; I hate how it is messing up my grind Of thoughts that I can never get rid of. His voice does sound like music to my ears; All the words he says are a lullaby; It hurts my heart to throw away the years, But my mind knows that love is him and I. I am the puppet for the puppeteer; Cupid is controlling the love in me; He shows me there is nothing else to fear, So I sit back, relax, and let it be. I was unsure, but now there is no doubt, I will love him until my lungs give out.

Life By Katherine Gil

Out of the seed and straight into the earth, A new plant grows and grows as the wind blows; It jumps and sprouts and spreads right after birth, Seeking for more than it already knows. With force and might she perched upon a leaf, And fed on it as if it were her last; In the cocoon, she thought of her great grief, And then the sun came up and she flew past. As time goes by we learn, still no one knows. Many of us flourish just like a plant, Yet some live stuck in the cocoon's shadows. A few, however, shout a joyful chant. We must know that the wind is there always; In life, we must try to withstand gray days.

No Longer By Tania Gafanha

Embodies versions of sincere beauty, Refuses to uncover; she’s timid, But others simply state, just keep to duty, None can believe that she is just frigid. For like a butterfly when she is free, Expects to soar, but can’t; she’s unprepared, As if she must fly over bearing seas, She’s hurting when most think she’s repaired. And plenty of time went by, but still no change, Until one day, it’s no longer the case, She grew into a new one, out of range, One that has so much grace, such stunning grace. She acts, no more, like that shy butterfly, And opens her mighty wings, and looks up high.

Spice By Keven Gomescoello

You do arrive when trees adapt their hue; For nine long months the world awaits return Because they value what they have been through; You have become their number one concern. Your essence could attract all who pass by; Your name warms the hearts of all who crave names; You’ve been described as candy to the eye, And your sweet traits can put faint eyes to shame. From being in any cup of caffeine, To being my sole chalice of delight, These feelings were not planned; they were unseen, And yet, I find that this is our last night. Your season ends, and now I pay the price; Just know that I will miss you, Pumpkin Spice.

Scared Puppy By Yamirka Gonzalez

I think of you when I brought you home that day, A sweet little puppy scared of all things, But, now your head is held up all the way, And your tail back and forth, it likes to swing. Your fur is black as night, yet white as snow, Tears flowed like a river when I got you, You were so scared, but then there was a glow, A milk bone treat, something for you to chew. That is when I finally gained your trust; Now you play, you bark, you even eat food That is not yours with a face of disgust; When I see you, I laugh and change my mood. I cannot think of times of me alone, I am so glad you are the dog I own.

Finding Toulouse By Liandra Gutierrez

Wisely, I never spent my time with you, The more I thought of you, the more I cried; When you did leave, I knew not what to do, I thought you would always be by my side. Your hair that is just softer than the clouds, Smooth for my hands; enjoyed by my filled heart; Eyes blinded partially by teary shrouds, Could still see light reflected from your art. I remember your favorite time of day; I would call “snack time” and that was your cue, Without speaking, you would ask if you may; If only you knew how much I miss you. Although his absence has caused me the blues, I’ll never forget my puppy Toulouse.

Eternal Separation By Amber Haynes

The kingdoms of the sky at once dissolve, When aiding forces of energy fade Into new forms, the building blocks evolve, It brings an end to the pleasant charade. When the winds of murderous winter blow, The last follicles fall and split apart, Their amber corpses suffocate in snow, Thus killing mother nature’s beating heart. The embers of a mortal blast disperse, When the contents reach ultimate hotness, The cinders lay as remnants of the curse, Accompanied by blinding lightlessness. You will so soon understand nature’s cries, When you break away, in your own demise.

My Lonely Life By Trinity Headen

I have been judged from when I was a pest, Perceived malign, unworthy of redemption; Here, I’ll express the thoughts from off my chest, Just save me please, don't make me the exception. Was it from my shrewdness of a fox, or, My movement of a snake, that made you hate? Is there no sympathy inside your core, Being defenseless, stagged, my supposed fate? Oh, is that shelter I see, on the road? People are coming! I won’t be alone; I can see it, a nice bed, I'll explode With happiness, in this home, where I'll roam. Predestined ferret, still conscious of life, Now I know, there was no need for my strife.

Going to the Show By Yunior Hernandez

On baseball fields, I am the one surrounded By fans, and friends, and my great family; The sights and sounds have left me so astounded, So shocked, my body moved so stagnantly. Nevertheless, the greatest of our fans Knows how to stand out from crowds of faces; With ongoing support through clapping hands, They shine as diamonds of the purest bases. Reminiscing on my past adventures Has taught me to appreciate the game, Always playing tough with no surrenders, Along a path which leads to future fame. Those who know me should be considered wise, Because they know my nickname: “The Franchise.”

Serendipity By Kiera Husbands

It keeps control of your entire life, So deep, so filling, one cannot decide; It’s loud and pounding, like the drums and fife, If only one had given us a guide. So here sits this vision of you and I, Looking up to those, like they owe us a prize. ‘Tis greed, or need, or maybe we did try, To adhere to the voice, the words of the wise. In our attempt to make this a success, To neglect the world and find our own way; Left us in nothing but a hell of a mess, So we hoped and prayed for a better day. We let go, and allowed faith to take its aim, And since then, nothing but blessings have come.

Nightmares By Joyce Jimenez

An artifact that reveals our secrets, Luminous when the darkness creeps at night, Filling every crack and crevice with grievance, Nothing is left but to dwell in the fright. Overcome by the need of sleep and rest, While this lost conscience keeps one vigilant, Every evening in gloom, expecting this guest, One becomes sightless and belligerent. Thus blinding to sight and the scopes of vision, Memories channel to a fleeting view, Morning comes and soars up with decisions, Separations manifest to be true. This rotation of sleep may never cease, Unless you commit the old sin of peace.

Angel of Joy By Lovely Laguerre

A missing portion, lost in the abyss, The thoughts of loneliness surrounding me, At times I wish that I could find my bliss, And happiness around me I could see. But then I met you, company and joy, You brought to me your light which was ignited, You spread your wings and helped me to enjoy, My life and soul is just now reunited. A few hours pass, and slowly you have left, Then I'm lost, lonely, and frightened too; Your absence has left me feeling bereft, Because I only feel replete with you. One kiss, you took my breath; made me joyous, Then I feel calm; to you I am pious.

Winter Blues By Katelynn Lavin

Nights and shorter days, the best time for shade, The white, cold, droplets of snow come at last; There is no greenish grass that can be played, Winter is a sorrowful, frosty outcast. Leaves dragged by the howling, cold, winter breeze, Up, up and away they go, effortlessly, The happy smiles turn to upside down trees; They rise high above so fearlessly. A bright sunny day turns grey and gloomy, Sad faces reappear; sadness is around, Time to say bye to the flowers blooming, They slowly die, colorful flowers are not found. Fall is gone, now it is time to suffer, We can deal with this, time to get tougher.

Darker Than Black By Yaxel Levin

Two strangers walking down different paths, The rain stops, and the stars peek through the clouds; Kind words open sealed hearts, it’s Cupid’s wrath; They chose to walk together in the crowd. They never mentioned the doubt in their hearts; Time passed with the faint twilight of their feelings; Innocence fades, and they are torn apart; The night sky is no longer so appealing. Her love, now dead, is a one-way ticket; Will the train lead her to heaven or to hell? The burning white light has reached its limit, And the bright star falls as she bids farewell. Her starry night sky will never come back, And her future is now darker than black.

Trapped By Eric Lima

It is a dark room that I can’t escape, I think that I have nearly given up, Considering my hand’s infused with tape, I might just cry into this tainted cup; My tears stream down and fade the paint away, And then I notice something very strange, A glimpse of light that shines like the midday, My eyes deceived what I had hoped would change; And suddenly this light became much stronger, I squint to see what is in front of me; A man comes through who holds such a great honor, He helps me up and we begin to flee; And then he falls and cracks open his skull, I’m left alone again with life so dull.

The Captain’s Ship By Ernesto Molina

The ocean's waves do crash upon the ship, The crew does beg the captain to go home, They worry that the sails will start to rip, The captain holds and makes the trip for Rome. The crewmen worked for their potential king As he slept for days with no end in sight; The storm had raged and poured, men clinging On for dear life, as waves engulf their light. From ruins does the captain rise with grief, With glee the crew let out its final breath, As their work on this world was long from brief, His fate the captain scorns, he prepares for death. The ship was cursed due to the captain's deed, As his quest for Rome was fueled by his greed.

The Great Struggle By Jadzia Muñoz

Upon the night of the great bloody moon, Holding a very charming spider lily, Hearing some great disturbing, awful tunes, It leaves a sensation of being chilly. Digging in like a dagger to the heart, Into the soul, it seeps, taking all sense, Cutting in deeper, forcing you to part, Making the light of life become more dense. Being forced to chose between two forces, One being the gift of endless cruel nights, The other a bright day it endorses, Not giving up I move towards the lights. Leaving the flower and darkness behind, A new day is what I will go to find.

Dependency By Adriana Noboa

My love for you will never fade away, I’ll never stop adoring you one bit, The love between us will be night and day, And no one in this cruel world will take it. My beautiful lips swirl as you kiss them, And now I know you’ll love me endlessly. You make me feel like such a stunning girl, We’re meant to be forever, can’t you see? Our love will never be mysterious, Just like the wonders of the distant sea. You make me feel like we’re about to kiss, Do tell me how you cast this spell on me. Your love is the thing that keeps me alive, Without your very heart, I can’t survive.

Time By Regina Oliveira

My heart is filled with overwhelming joy, The future is so near, I cannot wait, Just as a child waits for a new toy, I long for the day I act on my fate. But when the future does not look so near, And when the present takes over the mind, The heart once happy is full of fear, The hope once had, can I no longer find. When time is needed there is not enough, But when you need it to hurry, it won’t, Reaching contentment is meant to be tough, If you are waiting for the future, don’t. Tomorrow is just as great as today, But for the future, most throw it away.

Cycle By Ana Pinto

As the sun shines upon my furrowed brow, In anger, I can’t see the shine much longer, Yet, I look harder, looking frightful somehow, But the sun’s shining light was far stronger. I look again finding some hope in dusk, The sun’s rays bowing like a gentle queen; In the soon to be darkness I entrust When the light dies down and the sky is clean. The rays are now forgotten like the moon, A night owl wakes for his day time is night; As I admire the stars above me soon, I see the owl up in the sky in flight. It flies to where it will become night time, Like cycles of the sun the light will climb.

Melted Snow By Jaylene Rodriguez

Seasons change, yet my vacant hole remains, Wanting to be full like trees in summer, But I’m empty like the winter car lanes; You did always love to see me suffer. I used to be warm like the summer sun, And now I’m colder than the winter snow; You used to treat me like your number one, Then left, was I that easy to let go? But I learned to accept this consequence, Because this occurs when I love too hard; The person I loved killed my confidence, The only thing that is high is my guard. Yet, it’s your loss because of all your ways, You’re now melted snow, and I’m the sun’s rays.

A Distant Love By Sabrina Santos

Under the light, thy features are enchanted, A blessing from the heavens, there you stand, Gazing as not to take it for granted, Time is fleeting and hardest to demand. Future unfolds at the sight of that smile, Unleash bells tolling as loud as our hearts, One can imagine walking down the aisle, By your side would fill up my hollow parts. I dream for a while, then stop to reflect, That one man was never mine to begin, Thyself not knowing me, I can’t neglect, Not knowing the person who is within. Like tides upon the shores, I’ll find anew, Until I get tired and think of you.

Fluffy Friend By Danny Jimenez

All my life I have felt loneliness, The yearning for an end to this absence, A man’s best friend is so harmonious, It has fostered our world with much pleasance. My need for a companion is very strong, Creating admiration far too deep, Adoring from afar, feeling so wrong, Wondering if you will be mine to keep. The misery does continue to grow, I don’t think I could keep living like this; It is sad continuing not to know, If a life with you would give me some bliss. Though our love for man's best friend is still strong, Our dearest pet will not remain for long.

Light By Daria Timura

The light in darkness is not often seen, What looks like happiness can fade away; The given life supposed to be a queen, But everything right now looks color grey. I wish to turn and look through colored lenses That are from childhood, to remember life In which blossoming soul did not have fences, Nor inner mind was cut by carving knife. However, I only appreciate In the rotten world, I see the blurry light, Waking up and smiling to see my fate, Inevitable darkness has masked my sight. Although in this world, my light does prevail, Drowning in this darkness has made me frail.

End of Spring By Wesley Ureña

It all begins with an explosive start, The forward road has never been much clearer, Reaching your goal being the greatest part; He rushes towards what had never seemed nearer. First two quarters, energy overflows; He’d been waiting and preparing for it, Being left without any time to doze, Under no circumstance would he forfeit. His state decayed as the end was nearing, Since he had trained hard and consistently, Though he became blind to his surroundings, He went on almost autonomously. He faded and dropped a few feet away; The result of his work, his life's decay.

The Missing Piece By Kathleen Vega-Conza

Remembering the first time I saw you, Such happiness and love did come to me; It was at this exact moment I knew, The shining star in life, you then would be. We knew in time we would then come apart, You did repair us in such a short time, And now a four year old who is so smart, Your worth can’t be measured, unlike a dime. In these past four years, I have seen you grow, Giving me headaches once in a while, You bring up my spirit when it is low, With your contagious laugh and bright smile. I do give thanks for you, beautiful niece, You fit in my life like a missing piece.

Just Another Brick in the Wall By Brian Zeas

We are nothing, we are but only pawns,

We are but robots that follow orders,

We are but mats that the corrupt walk on,

All of us, trapped, in these covert borders;

We are slaves bound by invisible chains,

We are only but small bricks in the wall,

How much longer until we turn insane?

We are one, where you mean nothing at all;

But, you are more than an object to them,

You are the threat they fear and will not say,

Your voice holds power, your mind is a gem,

Lo! bring your mind into the light of day;

Don’t let them fool you and fill you with lies,

Fight, and be a hero, give it a try.

All Is Lost By Rocio Uzeta

Don’t leave me here with these thoughts alone, My crumbling state is a fear unknown. Come one! Come all! For I have gone rouge, My worst fear is myself and thoughts bestowed. Darkness and fears are ones truly near and whole, They are friends and loved ones when left all alone; Darkness pushes me further into this hole; Fears drowning me into the places unknown. Deteriorating, I continue to leave The real world, nothing but a stranger to me; My mind is changing to my world as I leave, Darkness and fears nurturing me as I flee. What do I do now, you ask like I know, Wallow in fear and doubt as I’m left all alone.

Longing For Her By Julio Torres

He seeks for that which he could never find,

All that he once did know is now no more,

Misery is what he does stand behind,

His heart is torn asunder and in uproar.

Melodious nocturnes protect his dread,

Her voice is that of one which is not flawed,

Thoughts of that which could’ve been fill his head,

For just a brief moment his heart feels awe.

Memories that he once held dearly haunt him,

His last moments are now in confusion,

He stands there now facing death on a whim,

He’s filled with tears, though it’s an illusion.

He craves to see her long forgotten face As he jumps off he feels her warm embrace.

Bare Flower By Danté Thomas

Kneel down so that the flowers could sense thee;

Do somersault over those roses—I know

That you will catch their grace, for me;

Prithee—be their match, so that you can grow.

Flowers do bare such an easy delight;

Their freeing petals do sway in the air;

Having no love, they do put down their might;

Ethereal grace shall bestow thee, beware.

Fragile beings, so fragile those pedals are

Too free in might, mortal appendages;

Slight night wiping wind may blow them afar,

Showing natural weakness never intended.

Yet such flowers bare no menacing shadow, They are black sheep of this corrupt meadow.

Soccer By Ana Lucia Silveira

The wind is blowing through my slick, brown hair,

The field and all the fans make it so right,

Nothing is better than to play with flair,

I see the goal posts that are in my sight.

The ball flies overhead like the bright sun,

The people say that my plays look so graceful,

I am just here in order to have fun,

And letting my team down would be thus shameful.

I love every part of this hurtful game,

The bruises and the laughter make it worth

Lining up to take my last shot on frame,

Suddenly, all I feel beneath is the earth.

I go down hard and I can’t get back up,

Four years of school have passed, my time is up.

True Wealth By Theodoro Silva

The wealthiest in the world just cannot buy,

And its absence invites calamity;

It is as rich as the blue of the sky

That spreads light over a man’s family.

When you’re down and out and no one is there,

Remember those that once stood together,

Under a roof that provided and cared,

Through storm or rain, no matter the weather.

They do not leave when times are getting tough,

And if you’re sick, they’ll nurse you back to health;

Do not go down the road alone, it’s rough;

Do not confuse material for wealth.

So if you ever feel like you’re alone, Just pack your bags and head towards home.

All The Same By Wilson Pratts

Thoughts have filled up my every day and night,

Sleepless nights have taken my life away

With most strength and will, and have tried to fight,

Alone, I cannot handle all this dismay.

My mind’s gates had collapse, much to fear

Although the grim war goes on, the fight seems endless;

Even the wisest of them all make this unclear,

This forever remains a work in progress.

Farther down the road, a light has seemed to be shown,

Will it be worthy to get excited for?

This feeling inside is much too well known,

I must cherish this moment and not ignore.

Even for the brief seconds of this lie, Pure joy must prosper, not wither and die.

Escaping to the Sound By Jaylene Rodriguez

“Don’t stop shooting!” yelled General McAllen, but his voice seemed like a whisper compared to the explosions, gunshots, and heavy rain. In the second that Owen took to turn his head to look back at General McAllen, his fellow comrade was on the muddy ground, blood oozing from his forehead.

Owen stopped and stared for a millisecond more before his general pulled him down into the tall grass. There was no time.

Owen knew he had no choice but to use his fallen soldier as a human body shield if he wanted to survive. He quickly grabbed the body and rolled it on top of himself, accidently facing the dead soldier’s face.

He tried to control his heavy breathing but to no avail. How could he with his comrade’s lifeless expression staring back at

60 him? General McAllen’s voice continued to shout orders until

Owen felt a bullet in his chest.

Owen wakes up screaming and immediately sits up, panting and covered in sweat. Five years after the war and he still has vivid nightmares. Owen thought he was getting better; he hasn’t had one in weeks. He wonders what could’ve triggered his PTSD after such a long period of rest. He lies down and tries to go back to sleep, but fails. All he could think of is watching his comrade die right next to him.

He remembers his life before the war; he was only eighteen and excited to be heading to college as a music major, only to have his plans ruined by the Vietnam draft. He was terrified of the possibility of getting killed, especially for a war he didn’t believe in. However, he had no choice in the matter; he had to go. Luckily, Owen only served for six years, because the army

61 didn’t believe in dead weight; the older the soldier, the weaker they become.

When first arriving in Vietnam, Owen didn’t know what to expect. He wanted to turn back, to go home to his loving parents and sister in their cozy, two-story Florida home.

He wanted to go back to his guitar, where life was a dream and the only reality was the feeling of the strings under his fingers.

His guitar was his one true love, his one true escape. He wished for nothing more than to listen to her peaceful melody one last time to calm his nerves. But all of that was gone, and all that he has now are the memories.

When he took his first steps into Vietnamese territory, he could already smell the gunpowder and hear the explosions that would soon destroy everything. That first scene would always stay in his mind: the foggy, green land spreading out over a

62 thousand acres. The soldiers’ first priority was to find an area to set up the ditch and tents.

The transition from living in an actual home to sleeping on the ground and not showering for days was one of the toughest parts of the war, considering his upper middle-class background.

He wasn’t spoiled, but he sure was going to miss being able to shower and sleep on a bed.

What Owen didn’t know was that the worst part wasn’t what happened during the war, it was what remained afterwards.

When Owen found out that he was finally going home after six long years, he couldn’t have been happier. He was finally going to see his parents and see how much his little sister had grown up; he was also excited to hear Rosey, for he needed that sense

64 of calm. After landing in Florida, he went to his parents’ home, planning to surprise them. Of course, they kept in contact while he was in Vietnam, for they would send postcards every week, but Owen was ecstatic to hear their voices again.

On the drive home, he noticed his neighborhood was different; the atmosphere didn’t have the same smell that he remembered. Owen brushed it off though; he was too busy thinking about hugging his family. Owen walked up the stairs to the familiar blue door and rang the doorbell. He wondered who would open the door first.

As he suspected, Helene, his mother opened the door. She looked at him in shock, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

She opened her mouth in the loudest scream Owen would ever hear outside of those he heard in Vietnam and proceeded to jump into her son’s arms, crying.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here! Look at you, so beautiful and grown-up. I’ve missed you so much,” his mother sobbed.

Owen smiled as tears began to pool in his eyes, “It’s good to see you, Mom. I’ve missed you with all my heart.”

Helene hugged him tighter and then ran into the house, presumably to tell everyone about Owen’s arrival. Catherine,

Owen’s sister, came running down the stairs into her brother’s arms. Although he obviously knew her, to Owen, she looked unrecognizable.

She was no longer the stout twelve year old girl that he knew so well, she was tall and pretty. She grew up, and Owen missed it.

He felt the tears begin to fall as he clung to her, not wanting to miss another moment.

Peter, Owen’s father, came down and stood there in shock.

He gasped and hugged his son, which was rare for someone like him, “Welcome home son, you were missed.”

“Great to be home, dad,” said Owen.

“Please come in, you must be so hungry, when did you get here? How was the trip? The war? Please tell me everything,”

Helene excitedly said.

Catherine immediately whispered to her mother: “Mom, we discussed this…We researched that soldiers that just come back from war don’t want to talk about their experiences so soon, they could have PTSD.”

“Thanks mom, I’m really hungry, let’s go inside, I’ll tell you as much as I can,” Owen said politely.

As they were entering the house, Owen thought about what

Catherine said to his mom, that he probably has PTSD, but as of right now he feels fine, no symptoms or traumas yet. Helene begins to set the dinner table and brings out her food that Owen hasn’t tasted in years, such as rice, beans, breaded chicken, salad, potato salad, and apple pie. His first savory bite into his mother’s food brought nostalgia from when he was a child. For a moment it was like nothing’s changed, but unfortunately he knew that everything did.

That first day back home felt like a dream until it was time to sleep. Owen tossed and turned, trying to empty his mind because all he craved was to sleep in his bed again, but all he could think of was the war, seeing comrade after comrade drop dead in a matter of seconds.

His mind relived every traumatizing moment and before he knew it, it was the next morning. The sun peaked through the blindfolds, Owen covered his face with the bed sheets but he knew he had to get up. He went downstairs and realized that no

69 one was home on this Saturday morning. His mom didn’t cook any breakfast; he remembered when she used to wake up extra early just to make some pancakes or an omelet for her children.

Catherine used to run around the house every morning and

Peter would read the newspaper while sitting next to the table.

Now things were different. Owen called his mom and asked where everyone was. Helene said she does Pilates every morning, Catherine has soccer practice, and Peter goes to the gym. Owen hadn’t realized how independent everyone had become until that moment.

The kids are grown, so the parents do their own thing.

What Owen feels most guilty about is missing Catherine grow up in her teen years: the most memorable and crucial time for everybody.

He really wishes he could've seen his little sister grow into an adult. Owen decides to make breakfast for himself, some

70 eggs and toast are just fine, and then he decides to take a walk in the neighborhood.

It’s a calm suburban area until Owen reaches the city.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it three blocks in because there was a car crash, the loud screeching noise and crash made Owen drop to the floor and scream, “Make it stop! Please, oh my god!”

He thought back to a time where his platoon was planning an attack until his comrade stepped on a landmine and exploded into pieces and his skin, intestines and blood were all over

Owen’s body.

Owen ran home after he witnessed the loud crash and began to panic.

He felt like he was having an anxiety attack but a million times worse; he couldn’t breathe or swallow his saliva or even speak properly. He went into his room and lay down until he saw Rosey. Just the sight of his guitar calmed him down.

He quickly grabbed Rosey and dusted her off. Owen tuned and stroked her strings; the guitar’s sound made Owen sigh in relief as he continued to play her. He was a little rusty, but nonetheless he was able to play again. This was the escape he’s been yearning for. This moment of finally hearing Rosey again almost made it seem like going to war and coming back was worth it.

One Last Song By Brian Zeas

It’s spring. The lively fragrance of flowers runs up through

Gohan’s nostrils. The daisies, roses, and the small crops all are bountiful and full of life. The birds in the village seem to be singing melodies of the heavens, all a true utopia in front of

Gohan's eyes.

Gohan feels a set of fragile arms caress his shoulders and feels the warm lips of Sun Jin press upon his neck.

“Good Morning my love,” she says as Gohan turns around and is frozen in awe as he catches himself staring at Sun Jin’s eyes.

Ever since the day they met in the small village when they were kids, Gohan has always had a crush on Sun Jin. One day, when Sun Jin was running towards the river to get water, Gohan secretly followed behind, and Sun Jin fell and scraped her knee on one of the rocks. Gohan sprinted to her aid and got water from the river and made a medicinal tree leave paste he learned about from his mother and quickly cleaned her wound.

Sun Jin softly said, “Hi my name is Sun Jin! Thank you for cleaning my wound, would you like to be my friend?” Gohan’s small nine year old heart froze, and with the small amount of air he had left softly replied: “Uh...Ye...Yea.”

This encounter was the beginning of their beautiful story; they would play together every day from sunrise to sunset. Sun

Jin would teach Gohan how to play her favorite instrument, the guitar.

She taught him everything her young mind knew, from the chords to the different strings as well as a beautiful Japanese song Sun Jin loved as a baby. Gohan was not a fast learner but enjoyed being with Sun Jin.

In return, Gohan would take Sun Jin to the river and show her how to fish. The island was filled with fish, Gohan took Sun

Jin to his special secret river place, which will soon be the place they had their first kiss.

Gohan taught her how to catch worms and how to make a fishing rod out of sticks and string. No matter what they did, no matter where they were, Sun Jin and Gohan were together.

Years of time spent together, they were one, Gohan secretly

75 loved Sun Jin and vice versa. They were madly in love, who could blame them?

Gohan finally professed how he felt once he was eighteen by playing her the favorite Japanese song that Sun Jin adored when she was a baby on the guitar. This was the first of many songs that Gohan learned on the wooden guitar that Sun Jin gave to him on his thirteenth birthday. This first song marked the years of happiness and love these two young teens would share at this small village.

Gohan comes out of his trance and responds to Sun Jin,

“Good Morning gorgeous! Care for some Ginseng tea? I know it’s your favorite,” Sun Jin exclaims as she raises a small tea cup.

She smiles and hands it over to Gohan, as Gohan reaches for the cup, it falls and shatters on the floor. Immediately, the birds stop singing, the tea spills on the floor, which is no longer

76 tea, rather it turns into blood and splatters all over his feet.

Gohan looks up at Sun Jin, her skin is pale and her eyes are lifeless, she appears to be dead.

He quickly looks around him—the daisies, the roses, and the crops are all dead. The sun is gone and everything around him, including his beloved, is lifeless. As Gohan turns around he sees the lifeless body of Sun Jin on the floor; Gohan screams as he drops to the floor beside Sun Jin and looks into her lifeless eyes and exclaims, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Sun Jin whispers in the voice of a ghost: “Play it again for me” and vanishes out of Gohan’s arms into thin air. Gohan starts to weep and wail for his lost love. He finds himself out of breath and feels as if he is suffocating. His lungs begin to sting and he does not know why.

In a desperate attempt for air, he finds himself taking a sharp breath as he abruptly sits up in his bed. It was another

77 nightmare. Ever since losing Sun Jin, he has never been the same, once full of life and smiles now is absent of all life and expression. Once content in the poor home they lived in, now he hates everything. His life is in utter chaos. Gohan now lived in a sort of hell on earth.

His sixty-five year old fragile body struggles to stand up;

Gohan rubs his eyes and slowly shuffles outside. The once neatly groomed man now has hair from top to bottom, with sweat stains on the wrinkled rags that once were elegant shirts his wife made for him. He looks outside and sees no one; the village is empty of all life.

A couple of days prior, the Japanese government set out an emergency evacuation order for all of the island inhabitants due to a volcanic eruption. The great Sakurajima was set to erupt and destroy everything on the island. As people ran and scurried for their lives, Gohan remained still as a statue, for he was absent of

78 all emotion, fear, or concern. The village neighbors implored

Gohan to seek shelter, but he refused.

Gohan could not leave his beloved. Sun Jin’s grave was near the house across the river from where they played when they were young. His fragile heart could not abandon her or the beautiful memories that he had in this village. He decided to stay, for he thought to himself that death hear Sun Jin was better

79 than the lonely and depressed life he lived the past two years after her death.

Gohan was all alone, everyone on the island was gone except him. As he looked up into the distance, he could see

Sakurajima and the black smoke that protrudes from the caldera.

He noticed the subtle smell of sulfur.

The ground beneath him began to shake and tremble,

Sakurajima was set to erupt soon. Gohan knew that he only had a few moments before his life ended, yet he had no reaction at all. It is as if he looked into the eyes of Mother Nature and showed no fear, no care for how powerful she can be.

How would a person with no fear for death spend his last moments?

Gohan focused on the tombstone laid on top of the ground in which Sun Jin was buried. The stone was chipped, dusty, and worn; Gohan has not gone near it for a very long time. He could

80 not bear the pain and the flashbacks that would return to him and realize that it is all lost.

It started to rain. The quakes became stronger, the sky was dark and eerie, for Sakurajima was growing furious with every passing minute, the flames and smoke became more prevalent; there was only minutes left before the big bang.

Gohan walked up to the grave, slowly shuffling his weary feet inch by inch. He kneeled down in front of the chipped stone and embraced it. A tear ran down Gohan’s cheek, he whispered,

“One last song my love.” He kissed the grave one last time and struggled to get up as he returned back inside his home.

He struggled to walk towards the closet and tried to push off some of the furniture that fell due to Sakurajima’s roar. He unlocked the door, the heavy iron chain and lock falling to the ground; he opened the door and there, in the middle of the wooden floorboard was his guitar, the guitar in which he vowed

81 never to touch again, the guitar that was the bridge between his current and past life.

With tears in his eyes he held up the guitar by the neck and wiped off the dust. The guitar seemed the same since the last time he ever played it. “One last song,” he said.

Sakurajima’s roar were nearly deafening, Gohan knew he only had few moments left to live. Gohan’s old fingers slid onto the strings, and he began playing. His acoustic guitar beautifully sang Sun Jin’s favorite Japanese song once again.

Gohan’s mind, body, and spirit became numb nearly enchanted with the melody his fingers sang. His guitar was the bridge back to Sun Jin and the memories that now lay in the grave outside of his home.

Gohan was crossing this bridge. He envisioned his wife again, her beautiful thick black hair glistening in the summer sun. He once again saw her enchanting dark eyes, her rosy pink

82 cheeks as well as her beautiful flawless fair skin. Gohan’s fingers shifted across the strings, with tears running down his cheeks.

He smiled and said to himself, “Just wait my love; I’ll soon be with you.”

In the midst of all this, Gohan didn’t realize that

Sakurajima had erupted; he didn't notice the clouds of ash and waves of poisonous gas that entered into his nose and lungs.

The carbon dioxide cut all life from him, Gohan was suffocating. Gohan’s playing slowed down; his fingers were now moving at a much slower pace, his grip on the guitar lessened.

As Gohan fell into his eternal sleep, he let out one last grin.

His soul now absent from his body, he found himself on what appeared to be a sea of white. He looked around to see nothing but a bright light. He slowly inched towards it to see

83 what appeared to be an angel. He squinted and held back his hand to block some of the brightness.

It’s a woman, she has dark shiny hair, rosy pink cheeks, dark wide beautiful eyes, and impeccable fair skin.

With a very recognizable voice this angel states, “Gohan, I have been waiting for you.”

Brother By Trinity Headen

It was a warm summer morning on a Monday, at 10:00 am to be exact, when I decided to take my son, Bobby, horseback riding. We were a people of simplicity, ever since we lost his mother to gang violence. There just wasn’t much reassurance in the justice system nowadays; gangs like The Red Brothers, were out to ensure that you were either with them, or dead in a ditch somewhere. All it would take is for you to walk out of your house and you would be stabbed, either in the back, or in the front, watching your attacker smile as you take your last breath.

I can’t remember life outside the Wild West; my wife and I moved here when we were merely 18 years old, in the year

1878, in the hopes of starting a family. That was about 12 years ago, and look what good that did us: I am a widowed father, and

I am stuck trying to take care of my only son with virtually no money in my pocket. My only hope is to gamble away the scraps that we own in order for us to survive, but I’m afraid that it’s too much. One of these days, the gangs will catch up with us, and they will take Bobby from me. Despite our current situation, though, I refuse to live in fear; this is why Bobby and I are traveling outside the walls of our flimsy house.

We wander aimlessly around, looking for scraps to gamble.

All of a sudden, a sand storm picks up, and we have no idea where shelter might be, so we sort of just rush forward, praying that we can find someone who could help us. Someone who could, and actually would, be willing to help us? Not a chance.

Thankfully, the gods are on our side, for we see shelter up ahead. It appears to be an old abandoned bar, and with this renewed purpose, we make a break for the opening. I tell Bobby to go inside, while I secure our horse Hope to a post, half inside the building. Once I’m done, I jog inside, only to find a sight that freezes me to my very core. At first glance I see two men crowding one another, one with a brown suit, and matching hat; the other has a brown hat, and a bluish suit. That’s not the sight that makes me go cold, no, it’s the fact that I see my wife’s killer standing amongst the men, and he’s holding a knife to Bobby’s throat.

The two men decide to pull out guns, pointed straight at me. Just when I think they are about to pull the trigger, my wife’s killer says one word: “Stop.”

He speaks it so softly, that I’m afraid his men don’t hear him, and decide to pull the trigger anyway.

I cringe, gathering up myself as tight as I can, knowing this will hurt. I say my prayers, and hope Bobby will have a better fate. When a minute has passed, and I notice that I’m still breathing, I open my eyes to see identical smirks among the gang members’ faces. They look at each other and sniff the air, probably smelling my fear, no doubt, then start to laugh. They laugh these big belly laughs, still managing to keep the gun trained on me, their aim unwavering.

Once they finish, the one with the brown suit says, “Hey buddy, what’s your name?”

“Henry Richardson...and that there is my son Bobby,” I timidly respond.

“Wait! You can’t mean that you are the Henry Richardson, the infamous gambler,” the man replies.

I guess my reputation precedes me. I simply nod, in agreement. The first one then says, “I’m Chuck, and we are

88 called The Red Brothers.” No introductions were necessary, I already knew the men responsible for my wife’s death.

That was my train of thought until one brother Danny spoke up, “Hey, he knows who we are!”

Fred then spoke up, “Are you sure, he seems pretty shocked that we’re The Red Brothers?”

“Of course he’s shocked. We’re holding his son captive, and we are the ones who killed his wife,” replied Danny.

There was a collective gasp that surrounded the room, the loudest coming from my son Bobby. Poor boy, I told him that his mother died in a sand storm, and he has thought this since he was only 3 years.

“I can’t believe you lied to me for ten years! I deserved to know the truth,” Bobby yells.

“Calm down son! I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you the truth, you weren’t ready.” Yes, I’m using the ‘you weren't ready’

89 card, but I’m not ready to own up to my mistakes just yet.

Meanwhile, The Red Brothers just watch us dispassionately.

“What is this, a soap opera? Pull it together!” Chuck states, mocking our conversation.

The command was all Bobby needed, and he suddenly slumped against Danny, completely spent. All the while, Fred has this Cheshire cat grin on his face, staring straight at me.

I’m beyond unnerved, and trying desperately to hide it, but by the way the Reds are sniffing the air, smiling again, I get the feeling that I’m not fooling anyone.

Fred then has a brilliant idea, “Hey, since he’s the infamous

Henry Richardson, why don’t we have a wager?”

I then ask cautiously, “What kind of wager?” Fred then proceeds to take out a deck of cards, sitting down at a nearby table.

“How about this, you play me and my brother Chuck here

90 in poker; the first person to reach a thousand dollars wins?

If you win you get to take your son home, but if we win, we will kill both of you.”

My options were limited, and Bobby started to have that hopeless look on his face, so I said, “Alright, I’ll do it.”

I know in that moment, I just signed our death warrants.

There was just one more problem that I had to clarify, “Uh, guys? I don’t have any money right now to gamble.”

They all just gave exasperated grunts.

Then Chuck said, “Don’t worry about it, you can take a loan of fifty dollars from us.”

Fifty-dollars! That’s it?

Although I see them take out a wad of cash for themselves,

I simply ignore it.

“Thank you very much,” I stated.

We then start the game, and I know that I can’t do this.

Although I get to have Bobby right next to me, I can feel

Danny breathing down my neck while smoking his pipe. The first batch of cards are given, and I’ll be honest here, I sort of slammed my fist once I saw them. They were the absolute worst cards I had ever seen, but I have to play. I then proceeded to discard this batch, getting a new one, when I realized something:

I was better off with the first batch. I then put in thirty-five dollars just to confuse the men, hoping that they don’t call my bluff.

Chuck just looks at me sideways and says, “You sure you want to do that buddy?”

All I can do is nod, I’m chewing my lip too much. He then shrugs, like it’s no big deal, and puts in the same amount as me.

So does Fred. They lay down their cards, and Chuck wins the first round. Now, on to the second round.

Time passes by in a blur, and I notice that I’m losing by a lot. I only managed to get the thirty-five dollars back once. The rest of those times I see the Brothers winning one hundred to two hundred dollars, which then quickly escalated to seven hundred. I’m almost out of the game, I only have twenty bucks to my name, and Bobby is silently crying next to me, hoping for a miracle. Just when I say my prayers, I glance outside, and see

Hope. She just stares at me with her big black eyes, as if to say,

“You can do it. Come on!”

However, by how much she’s stomping her foot, she’s most likely saying, “You idiot! Get me out of this sandstorm,

I’m dying out here.”

Yeah, that’s probably right. I quickly turn back to the game at hand, and realize this is the last round, all or nothing. I get my pair of cards, and I almost shout in pure joy. I glance at my son behind me, but he’s looking on, dejectedly at the table. I put all my money in, and the Brothers howl with laughter.

Chuck then says, “I have got to say, I’ve never met anyone this bad at poker. I thought you were famous for this type of stuff.”

Ha! Everyone knows I’m not that good at poker, but instead excellent at blackjack. I’m pretty sure that’s why they chose this horrid game, but it doesn’t matter now. They then put

94 all of their money in, which is well over one thousand dollars.

Then they proceed to flip their cards.

Chuck shows everyone a full house. Impressive, but it doesn’t beat me, not yet. Fred then shows a straight flush, and I take a moment to pause. I look at my hand, and then I turn them and it’s dead silence. A royal flush. I give a shout of joy, and then I take Bobby, and try to hightail it out of there.

We’re almost there when Danny halts me, with a hand on my shoulder. He then gives me a bag, which looks like all the money from the table. A quick glance back reveals that his brothers are outraged by this. Just when I think they are about to attack me, Danny stops them with a glare.

A weaker man would collapse with a glare like that directed at them. It’s not even aimed at me, and I have to steady myself with a nearby chair. Danny then turns back to me with a letter in his hand and states, “It’s not what you think.”

I try to ask him what he means, but he just walks away.

Not one to kick a gifted horse in the mouth, I hightail it out of there with my son.

Thank goodness by now that the sandstorm has diminished.

On Hope, we make our way away from the bar, and just when there is only a little more than a speck of it left, I open the letter.

Dear Henry,

If you are reading this, then it means I am no longer with you in this world, and for that I’m dearly sorry.

I have not been completely honest with you over the years.

The only reason that I wanted to start a family in the Wild West was because I heard that my brother lived there. I know I told you that all of my family members died, and it’s just me left.

Well, that was kind of true.

The real truth is that everyone in my family is dead, well everyone except for my brother Danny. It took about two years to find him, once we moved here, and by that time he was already known as one of the infamous Red Brothers. I knew you would talk me out of seeing my brother, so I kept our meetings a secret.

Recently though, his friends are catching wind of our talks, so it’s not safe. I am attempting to talk him out of this life of

97 crime and for him to start leading a good, virtuous life, but I am putting myself at risk, which is why I am writing you this, in case I don’t survive. Tomorrow, I will meet with him, one last time, just to tell him that I can’t keep doing this and to see if he will leave the criminal life once and for all. If all goes well, you will never have to see this letter, but just in case, I am writing this letter to say “sorry” and for you to always protect our son.

If you have this in your hand, I guess his “Brothers” stopped me.

Love always,

Veronica