Voices From The Forest II

A collection of stories by fiction writers from Shorecrest High School

Spring 2010

Compiled by Peter Mountford, writer-in-residence

Table of Contents

Mr. Barker, Creative Writing------Page 3

Ms. Etter (period 1)------Page 78

Ms. Etter (period 3)------Page 167

Ms. Harris (period 3)------Page 231

Ms. Etter (period 4)------Page 294

Ms. Harris (period 4)------Page 358

Ms. Harris (period 5)------Page 436

Ms. Etter (period 6)------Page 502

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This project, and all the work that preceded it this year, would not have been possible without the generous support of the Shorecrest PTSA and the Shoreline/Lake Forest Park Arts Council. Thank you!

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Mr. Barker, Creative Writing

Table of contents:

Hillary Krajnik Sam Hopf Aluna Ademasu Gerry Benson Jacqueline Blackmore Amber Chapman Emily Corona Jordan Diel Kathryn Hedges Hannah Hensel Ryan Howard Siyi Jiang Jared LeMoine-Kowalski Estefania Loeza Neva Mahler DJ Oliver Daniel Olsen Imani Pélissier Riley Van Winkle Travis Schade Jacqueline Gonzalez Kaley Swalwell Thea Twomey Zoë Van Fossen Jared Warren Chi la Abel Tefera

Hillary Krajnik

Jannie’s Story Trudging up the front steps of her house, Jannie, shoves her left hand in her pocket and feels around for her key. In the bright, rising sun, she rubs her eyes and pushes open the front door. “Where have you been?” her mother says as she jumps up from the couch in the front room. “It’s 5:30 in the morning. You have kept me up waiting for you all night.” “Mom, I really need to get ready for school. Can we talk about this later?” Jannie declares as she drops her backpack to the floor. “Absolutely not! School can wait for all I care. You can leave just as soon as you explain to me where the hell you have been for the last 22…” her mom glances down at her watch “… and a half hours! I woke up yesterday and POOF you were gone.” “I just went out. Okay?” “No, that’s not ok. I have told you time and time again to never leave the house until you tell me where you are going.” “Oh, and how is that fair when some days I come home from school and don’t see or hear from you for the next three days? Then, once you get back, all you tell me as an excuse is that you met someone new at the gym and left town for a few days to have some fun.” Jannie stomps off to the kitchen but before going completely out of sight turns back around, “What kind of role model are you? Huh?” She twists back to the kitchen and walks off. “Hold on just one minute!” Her mother rushes to catch up. “We are not talking about me and my mistakes. We are talking about you and the disappearing act that you pulled yesterday.” “Well Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.” Jannie folds her arms and leans against the dullycolored counter next to the fridge. “You’re going to have to be, because you’re not leaving today until you tell me.” “So what you’re saying is that if I hold off till tomorrow without sharing, I can leave then?” “NO, I’m telling you that I will be on your back about this till you talk to me. You won’t have a single minute alone for the rest of your life if that’s how long it takes you to inform me.” “Wow Mom, you’re being a little bit of a creeper right now. What are we gonna do if either of us have to go to the bathroom? Or worse one of us has a date? Huh! What then?!” “Stop trying to divert from the issue at hand. Tell me where you have been! It’s just that simple… please?” at this point Jannie’s mom is pouting her lips and staring at her. “FINE!” she exclaims. “I was at the house.” “What house?! Not this one, I was here all day.” “No, Mom,” next to the window, Jannie sits down in her normal spot at the kitchen table. “I was at the Jansen’s old house.” “The abandoned one in the East Woods? Why? “Because it reminds me of Dad.” Her mom sits down next to her. “Oh,” she spoke softly. “Yeah, now do you see why I didn’t want to say anything?” Her mother looks up at her. “Yes. But you can’t just take off without a word for almost a full day.” “If you had known where I was going then you wouldn’t have wanted me to go, but I really needed to be there yesterday.” “Thats not true, honey. You can go there anytime you wish, the fact that you went yesterday upset me. I wanted to be with you to deal with it together.” “I thought you didn’t like talking to me about him.” “Well, for the most part he is a sore subject for me. But it was his birthday yesterday and I know you hoped to be with him. I just wish we had been together is all.”

Sam Hopf Untitled

In a small room full of stuff but not cluttered, with white walls, and fun little pictures all around, Joey sits on a bed and listens to Amelia tell a story about her day. “My friend Jacquie and I ran around the lake today and there was this creeper guy that was like staring at us, and following us, the whole time around the lake. So once we made it around the lake once, and had started walking home we bolted there because he was still right behind us. Finally we made it home. Later on I was flipping through channels and came across that guy and the news who had been following us, he had just been sent into jail for kidnapping some girls. I’m soooo glad he didn’t get us!” Amelia says, with an exciting voice “Wow that sounds really crazy, I’m glad he didn’t kidnap you too or I would have cried,” replies Joey. “So what would you like to do?” Amelia asks, Joey. “I’m not sure, whatever really. How about you?” “’m not sure. I have a question though. Have you ever wanted a tattoo?” Amelia asks. “Yes, I really do I’m not sure what tattoo I’m going to get but I know when I get one I’m going to let you create the tattoo for me, since you want to become a tattoo artist someday” “Really? That’s so nice of you. I have another question for you, would you let me give you one now???” “Ummmm well you need to have the tools for it, plus you aren’t old enough to be giving me one, and I’m not even old enough to get a tattoo.” “I do have the stuff, my friend gave me it because she is a tattoo artist and knows I want to become one. You don’t need to let anyone know, I won’t tell. I know exactly what I would do. You couldn’t look at it till I finish though.” “I guess yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be that big of a problem, and I really want one. As long as you don’t give me a girly tattoo.” Joey says with a smile on his face. “YES! Thanks soooooo much Joey, don’t worry I won’t let you down, you will love it.” Amelia then gets all the tools needed to give a tattoo set up, gets some wet rags to put on Joeys arm once she is done, and gets a cool lamp so she can see what she is doing easily. “I want to put it on your arm, O.K.?” Amelia asks. “Yeah that’s cool,” Joey says. So Joey pulls up his sleeve and holds it back as Amelia gets closer with the needle tool. Joey closes his eyes because he fears it will hurt, and it does but he doesn’t say a word. Amelia starts making her art on his arm with a smile on her face. “Are you O.K. Joey? You haven’t opened your eyes once since I have started.” “Yeah I’m fine. You said not to look at it so I’m closing my eyes,” he says half lying and half telling the truth. After quite some time has gone by, Amelia says, “I’m done,” as she sticks the wet rag on Joey. Joey turns his head to look at the tattoo as he removes the rag, then turns to give Amelia a big hug. “I love it!” he says. The tattoo is an anchor with a banner on it that says Amelia on it. This means very much to Joey, because in his family almost everyone old enough to get a tattoo, has a tattoo with the name of the one they love on the banner that’s across the tattoo. So when Joey sees this tattoo he knows that Amelia knows that he loves her and that she most likely loves him back. Amelia smiles back. “Now you can’t let anyone see it, except me of course. So sadly that means no swimming.” “Well that’s true, but I could always wear a shirt or something like that if I swim, but its O.K. its defiantly worth it.” “That’s good,” Amelia says with a bright smile. So they clean up their mess and put a bandage on the tattoo so it doesn’t get infected. “Make sure you leave that on for the first couple of days till it heals, that way it don’t get infected.” “Thanks so much, I can’t tell you how much I like it and how glad I am to have a friend like you.” “If your parents find out about me giving you that tattoo we will most likely never get to hang out again probably, and I can’t let that happen. They also will most likely be more strict towards you.” “That’s for sure. I’m glad you understand the situation I’m in with my parents. I’m willing to take chances with them just to be able to be good friends with you and hang out.” “Thanks. You’re a good friend. And now you are the first person to be tattooed by me,” Amelia says giggling. “Well I better go home now, I don’t want to be in trouble for getting home late. I’ll text you when I get home.” “O.K. I love you, have a safe trip home.” As Joey drives home in his little red Honda CRX, he hopes his parents don’t find out about the fact that he got a tattoo, especially one from Amelia, because his parents for some reason don’t like her all that much. When he arrives home he walks into the house he dreads being in most. The instant he walks in he wishes he was still in that little room with Amelia. He walks straight to his room not seeing anyone or hearing anyone. Now that its getting dark and he has school the next day, he decides he’s is just going to go to bed. He sends texts to Amelia saying that he had a great time, and asks her what’s up, as he brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. He goes down the stairs to say goodnight to his and that he had a great time at “work.” Right when his parents see him, they pound him with a ton of questions. They suspect something is up. “How was work?” his dad asks. “Anything interesting happen? See any friends?” Then the odd questions come up. “Do you like Amelia? When did you see her last? And I noticed you text her a lot. Why?” Joey in some sort of shock doesn’t know what to answer first, so he starts with, “Work was great, I received a bonus (lying). Yeah I saw Shawn at work today.” Then he goes into questioning his dad, “How do you know I text Amelia a lot?” His dad replies saying, “I look online at the numbers you text and I see that about ninety percent of the texts you send are to her.” “What gives you permission to do that?” Joey exclaims. “I pay for my phone and everything I pay for everything I have and eat and for car insurance and gas, how could you think that you can tell me what I can do with those things I pay for, if I am not using them for bad?” “Well I’m your dad and I can do whatever I want with your things. I don’t know what you were doing today but I have a feeling you were with Amelia and I don’t want you around her anymore Joey,” his dad says. “I’m going to bed, I don’t want to talk to you or deal with you. You just try to rule my life and it’s pathetic.” Joey walks away, going to his dark room, Gets in bed and calls Amelia telling her everything that just went on. Trying to keep quiet so no one hears. After telling her the whole story he says that he isn’t going to stop seeing her and that he is just going to have to try really hard to keep his parents from knowing.

Aluna Ademasu Untitled The chill of the morning breeze sweeps across my face as I wake up. I get up to close the window. I lie back in bed and pull the sheets over my head. I close my eyes as I begin to drift back to sleep. My alarm startles me as it goes off, another day of school. I jump out of bed and start to get ready for school with the same old routine. I race into the shower, its now 6:45 a.m. After that I frantically try to put together an outfit and at the same time brush my teeth. Now it’s about 7:10a.m., I go into the kitchen to say good morning to everyone. “Morning sweetie, how was your sleep?” Aunt Julie says. “Uh good I guess, nothing special. Where’s Uncle Jim and is Angelica awake?” I say. “He had a meeting to get to early this morning and Angelica is still sleeping, but I’m about to wake her up. I have a favor to ask you though, do you think you could pick up Angelica at 4:30, she has band after school?” Julie says as she puts on smile. “Yeah, I guess I could,” I say. “Okay thanks darling! And after that could you wash the dishes, clean up that messy room of yours and possibly cook dinner tonight because I won’t be home until late and I’ll be exhausted by then to do anything.” Julie says. Sweet, another day of me having no life. I wish I could just leave this state sometimes, or even this world. I already have no friends, my closest friend to me is my cat. How pathetic. I don’t understand how my aunt has so much more energy than me, I mean I’m eighteen, and she’s like what, over the hills? “Of course Julie, I’d LOVE to,” I say with a big grin on my face, hoping she catches my sarcasm. “Oh Isabella I’m so glad to have you around, you make it so much easier for me! I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m about to go wake up Angelica, so can you please make her some pancakes or waffles before you leave for school? Thanks again dear!” Julie says. Guess she didn’t catch my sarcasm. I look the kitchen for something to make real quick. I find a box of pancake mix, but I don’t have enough time, so scratch that idea. I really don’t even want to cook anything. I rummage through the freezer and find some hot pockets. Perfect! I throw it in the microwave and watch it go in circles, it feels like the longest two minutes of my life. Angelica startles me as she walks into the kitchen screaming. “Where is my food? I’m so hungry!” Angelica says. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. No wonder why Aunt Julie always has me take care of you,” I murmur. “Excuse me Isabella, what was that you said?” “Oh nothing, don’t worry about it kid. Throw on some clothes before you’re late for school, then I’ll maybe think about giving you your breakfast.” I say. “Don’t worry I wont be late for class. Ill just make you late for class if you don’t hand it over.” Angelica says. “Your not as smart as you think you are. Guess you’ll be walking to school by yourself this morning smart one,” I say “MOM! Isabella’s making me walk alone to school! She’s being mean!” Angelica says. I don’t think I can take this any longer. She’s driving me crazy! I push open the microwave and grab the hot pocket and take a bite into it as the cheese eases out of the sides of my mouth. Angelica comes back in the kitchen and looks at me. “Are you actually about to just eat my hot pocket in front of me like that,” Angelica says. “Yup, I made it. Make your own if you want one,” I say. “ARE YOU SERIOUS! I hate you I’m telling on you!” Angelica says. “Why don’t you just grow up and make one yourself, Aunt Julie loves me more than you anyways, you give her headaches,” I say. Angelica furiously runs off. Doesn’t even say aword. I walk into my room to grab my bag. I see Angelica standing there with scissors with my favorite shirt. “Either you make me breakfast, or I will cut up your favorite shirt,” Angelica says. “You wouldn’t.” “Oh, I would,” Angelica says. “Ok go a head, be my guest. I dare you to cut it up,” I say. I walk away. Sometimes I wish she would just disappear. I wish I had a place of my own where I don’t have to worry about all this. I look at the clock and notice it’s time to leave for school. I run into the kitchen to grab my apple. I leave Angelica behind. Woops. I step outside and squint as the sun hits my eyes. I watch as the parents hug their children goodbye and send them off on the bus for school, the garbage men moving from house to house, and the kids walking to school, like me. I take a bite out of the apple; juice squirts out the sides of my mouth. I look up at the sky and smile, as there is not one cloud in the sky.

Gerry Benson Disturbed Peace

The wind rustled the leaves overhead as a fish splashed in the pond. A blossom from the Sakura Tree that I was leaning against landed in the palm of my right hand. Another landed on top of my head. My friend, Summer, who used to be a very young golden eagle, came and perched on top of my shoulder. A heavy breeze almost blew her off, so she dug her talons into my flesh. First I felt the sharp sting, the warm, sticky fluid, slowly running down my arm. I didn’t flinch like most people would. Slowly, I turned my head so as not to startle her. I looked at her and stated, “That hurt,” before turning my head back and closing my eyes. “Sorry Xena,” Summer apologized meekly. “It’s ok. I’m fine. They will heal.” I replied, my voice and face void of all emotion. You may think that I’m unemotional and mean; your assumption couldn’t be farther from the truth. I am a very caring, very emotional person, but I try not to let others know when I’m in pain. In fact, I try not to show any negative emotion, especially anger or frustration. You see, I got picked on a lot when I was younger, the other kids saw me as an easy target because I left my emotions out in the open. I let the bullies get to me and make me retaliate. Soon I figured out that my retaliation just gave them reason to keep picking on me. Once I realized this, I stopped reacting to anything that hurt; whether it was physical or emotional, and no one has picked on me since. So it’s not that I can’t or don’t feel anything, I just don’t react to pain, or I try to hide it. My blood started soaking through my light blue shirt. Summer flew off my shoulder to float in front of my face. She looked at me, then at my blood soaked shirt, then back at me. “I am so sorry Xena. I really didn’t mean to cut you, let alone make you bleed.” I chuckled lightly. “Summer, stop rambling. I’m not mad, really. It doesn’t hurt a whole lot, and like I said, they will heal. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, this time with Summer laid down in my lap. She was afraid of causing more injuries, although, I really didn’t care. Summer finally settled down, and we both drifted off to sleep. It had been about eight minutes, when my brothers ran into my clearing and woke me up. My younger brother, Hikaru, ran over and shook my body. “Come on Xena, wake up already!” he practically shouted in my ear. “We gotta get home. Takashi and I are hungry and you need to feed Moonlight, Lily and Ryu!” Slowly opening my eyes, I stared at Hikaru. “Must you insist on yelling in my face?” Summer, who was already awake, hopped out of my lap and flew off. Our older brother, Takashi, looked at me. “Relax Xena. It’s not his fault. He’s been like this all day. I’m pretty sure he found sugar somewhere.” Takashi is even more unemotional than I am. In fact, he hardly shows any emotions at all; except when we’re at home. He tries to be mature and protect Hikaru and me from any possible threat. At least I show some feelings. From him, nothing. We’re lucky to even see him smile in public. Hikaru, on the other hand, shows more emotions than I knew even existed. Standing up, I stated, “If you two are hungry, we might as well go home. Just let me feed Lily, Ryu and Moonlight, then I’ll cook us up a feast to be remembered.” They looked at me like I was crazy. “What? A girl can’t eat like a guy when she hasn’t eaten anything all day?” I started walking home. As I walked passed Takashi, he saw the blood that was trailing down my shoulder and the back of my shirt. “Xena,” I stopped and turned to face him. “I think we should stop by the hospital first. There’s blood all down your back.” Grinning, I told him, “Come on Takashi, I’m tougher than that. They’re only small holes from Summers claws; they just need a few bandaids. Besides, they’ve probably stopped bleeding by now. I’ll be fine. Let’s just go home.” Takashi grabbed my wounded arm and started pulling me in the opposite direction, towards the town. “I don’t care if you say you’re fine, I want to be one hundred percent sure you’re fine. You are going to see a doctor; whether you like it or not.” Yanking my arm back, I winced slightly as my arm quivered in pain. “I do not need to see a doctor. I’m fine. My wound can heal on it’s own.” He stood right in front of me so I was looking at his chest. Again, he grabbed my arm. “ You are going to the doctors, and that’s final.” He snapped. Again, I ripped my arm from his grasp. “I am not going to the doctors! Stop being so overprotective! And stop telling me what to do! You’re not mother and you never will be, so stop acting like her and go back to your old happy, more fun self!” I turned and ran back to the house and ran up to my room. I slammed my door and locked it. About a minute later I heard Takashi knocking at my door telling me to open up. Ignoring him, I went into my bathroom and took a shower to wash the blood off. About five minutes later I walked out of my bedroom, wearing clean clothes, and walked downstairs to see Takashi sitting on the couch watching TV. He looked at me and I looked down. Walking over, I sat next to him and hugged him. He hugged me back. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” I started to cry and he held me tighter. “I miss mom so much.” Takashi kissed the top of my head. “I know. I really miss her too. We just have to be strong and take care of each other. And, I’m sorry I raised my voice, I was just trying to protect you.” I looked up at him and smiled, “You can protect me Takashi, just don’t overprotect me. There are some things I can take care of myself, however, I’ll still need your help occasionally. Love you bro.” “Love you sis.” Hikaru flew down the stairs, sprinted over and threw his arms around our necks as he leaped on top of us. “And I love you both. Can we eat now?” Takashi and I both laughed. I looked at Hikaru, “Sure little bro. You two just stay here and watch TV. I’ll cook dinner.” Getting up I walked into the kitchen. For a moment I paused and looked at my brothers. Hikaru was laughing and Takashi was smiling. Turning back, I smiled to myself and began to cook. Everything was exactly as it should be. Its days like these that make me happy I’m alive and free. Who knew life could be so great?

Jacqueline Blackmore

Pulled Over If there’s one thing my dad can’t live without, it’s country music. Well, country music and me. He wears white shirts, letting everyone know what he had to eat that day. Bags carrying years of stress hang beneath his eyes, and it looks like he shaves once in a blue moon. Fixed upon the wheel, his hands grasp at ten and two. His blue eyes, just like mine, were searching for the road in front of us between the rain and windshield wipers. My thoughts are drowned out by the acoustics of Tim McGraw and attempted singing of my father. At first I thought the sirens were a part of the song, or maybe my ears were just ringing. I didn’t believe it until I saw the flashing lights behind us. Our truck creeped to a halt on the shoulder of the road, and Tim’s voice faded into the sound of the rain hitting the windshield. The policeman strutted over as dad rolled down his manual window. He tossed a blanket over to me motioning to cover my handcuffs attaching me to the passenger door. “What can I do ya’ for, Officer?” my dad said in his southern accent. One thing I’m glad didn’t get passed down to my sister and I. “Do you know how fast you were going, Sir?” I could feel the officer eyeing me, but I couldn’t look at him directly without alarm in my eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said, shaking his head guiltily. After checking his license and registration, and letting him go with a warning, the policeman looked me straight in the eye and asked me “Where you two headed tonight?” Scanning his uniform I read his badge saying ‘Reno Police,’ and wondered how long we’ve been driving. “Just taking a road trip with my dad,” I managed to spit out through my teeth. I didn’t lie, I simply told him we were taking a road trip. This is a road, and certainly a trip. “Alright then, I’ll let you get on with it. Happy travels, you two. Just remember every state has speed limits!” The officer backed away with a genuine smile, and hurried to his car, drenched from the five minutes he was out there. “Well, looks like I’ve gotta go by these here speed limits if I’m gonna keep you ‘round,” he said with a slight sense of sadness. This is not how I expected to see my father for the first time in twelve years. I expected him to come home with a bouquet of flowers for my mom, kiss her on the cheek, and give my little sister and I bear hugs. I expected him to say that he didn’t ever want to leave, that it wasn’t my fault. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up because things happened a little differently. Instead of striding right into our door with flowers, he strode with duct tape and black attire. Instead of giving me a bear hug, he swiped me out of bed and brought me to his 1998 Ford pickup. Lastly, he told me he was scared. He owed some friends of his money, and couldn’t afford to support the family. He got scared with my mom four weeks away from having little Abby and he fled. I was six. I had my Happy Meal waiting for me down at the table, and I saw my dad on the phone. Most kids wouldn’t think anything of their father gabbing away on their Blackberry, except my dad never took his eyes off me until then. He stuttered and raised his voice, and I could see in his face things weren’t right. I climbed over to the slide and started down expecting him to break my fall at the bottom. Little me, hands in the air, giggling potbellied me fell on my knees that day. There was no daddy to catch me. There were no eyes on me. There wasn’t anybody to help me back up. I look around, peering outside to see the back of the 1998 Ford pickup pulling out of the parking lot, leaving me there, fogging up the window. This whole ride to nowhere was silent. What did he expect? I would get in the car, call him ‘daddy,’ and start a tickle fight? What am I supp— “So do you play any sports?” My spine seemed to wake up and give me a shiver. Besides the six words ‘Hi Charlie, it’s me, Dad,’ I hadn’t heard anything but the hum of the road for God knows how many hours. “No,” I said. I decided to tell the truth wondering if he would bring me back if finds out I’m no allstar athlete or Stanford striving student. I have never wanted so much to see my sister’s dirty little face and my mom’s warm hand on my back. My mom and I weren’t the closest, but I guess we got along. Abby wasn’t so bad. We got along when she wasn’t stealing my stuff. Mom had enough puns to keep us groaning for days while Abby was pretty cute in her own way. Sometimes I thought I’d hear from my father. Maybe a phone call, maybe a letter. Maybe even a message in a bottle telling me he’s deserted on an island and he never really wanted to leave. Now I realize, sitting on this stained, lumpy seat, no matter how many birthday candles I wish on, I’ll just be left in the smoke. If I’ve learned one thing through all these wishes and fantasies it’s to never give up. At this moment I decided I’ve lived this long, I’m not giving up now. Ever since he flashed his gun on the left inside pocket of his Carhartt jacket I knew my happy ending wasn’t going to end up so happy without a fight. The moment he took his eyes off the road to reach for his lighter in the back seat I reached over and jerked the wheel just enough to create a four car collision with oncoming traffic going fifty miles per hour. It was enough to put my dad in a coma for two years until he passed away, and left me with as little as a broken arm. I’ll never forget those eyes. The split second after I grabbed the wheel, I saw into my father’s eyes. The same blue eyes he passed on to me. He revealed his sorrow, years of regret. I found the apology, and shame. Although I thought of jerking the wheel back to the straight road in front of us after seeing his eyes, I knew that person was still the same person that left me so long ago. Left my sister without a father completely, left me constantly dreaming of a perfect Father’s Day, and left me alone at the bottom of the slide. I let my hand slide back into my lap and let the wheel turn.

Amber Chapman

Final Character Story The deserted streets on the outskirts of Seattle, is newly casting shadows. Night fills in black behind the trees and creates fear within the darkness, I don’t belong on this stretch of street during this time. I could see I’m as vulnerable as a mouse to a cat that stalks its every move. I’ve walked this street so often I could do it blindfolded. No one would know where I was going but I walk to my friend Nieko’s house and say my good bye. I had been planning this for too long, I’m sick of not just going for it. Even with only the constant rhythm of patter my feet made, it kept me company on this silent stretch. I was startled when my phone buzzed wildly in my pocket. Second guessing myself I wondered if I was to late? “Hey dad sorry I didn’t pick up sooner I was searching for my phone…” I stuttered out trying to conceal my actual whereabouts. “Forest eh sh fsst kkkeeeeet…” The reception was terrible I couldn’t hear him. “Uh, dad? Are you okay?” Nothing else came from the phone except the sinister sound of scissor blades snapping together. I had been lonesome and numb for so long due to my dad I had no more compassion to turn back. This was my new world. It wasn’t before my mom had died from the so called “flu” that things had been so lonely. My dad wasn’t always a discourteous drunk, he would pay the bills, love my mother, and even attempt to teach me how to play baseball… If only I could make him proud, but I wasn’t a boy. I was nine when she died in 1992 its 2000 now and things are still as vividly cold as they were before. Bed rest hadn’t done her justice because 5 weeks of bed rest had only gotten her fired from work and made her more ill just dieing slowly in a bed. I should have figured that things don’t go according to plan. I’m left with sending my good bye on a little edge of paper from a book in my bag and just wedging it in the door hoping it falls into Nieko’s hands. I really didn’t have security and I was in no hurry to travel at a hasty speed. I decided to make it to the bus stop just a few blocks down and without looking to ride it till I feel my instincts telling me to get off. My goal isn’t to prove to myself I’m invincible or even to make a statement by no longer following society. I really just want to find that personal gap where I want to know I have a purpose on Earth and I think the origins of survival and natural instinct is where I’ll fulfill this. “Hey do you have the time?” his voice was frail and he looked like a deranged middle age man. “Uh yeah hold on, okay its 8:42.” I told the man as I glanced at my watch. “Wow, so it’s a lot chillier then I thought.” “Heh yea at least it’s not raining,” I replied looking up at the sky. “Sure….” this pale man just continued staring at the ground as if waiting for it to melt with enough visual attention. I could only prepare for my conversation with the bus driver. I would imagine it would be like… “Last stop were in Bothell sorry folks! bus is now out of order,” mumbled the bus driver. I could imagine standing up and walking to the front and maybe getting stopped before I got off. “Hey you know if you continue North you are headed strait toward the wilderness right?” the bus driver would ask. Knowing me I would refuse to let my actual mission be known to the public so Id say, “Yea but just up North lies SedroWoolley where I need to get to, too “attend college”. “Okay just making sure you aren’t lost and hope you make it there safely, have a good night now.” And If nod my head back in a reply and take the first step off the bus and feel the adrenaline rush of freedom over come me. There wasn’t really a college calling my name it was forest that engulfed the Cascades that taunted me with paranoia and joy at the same time. I had only walked 2 miles in the near night when my head swarmed with guilt that Niekco and my dad would wake up with an empty morning and would find a way to track me. I will call in the morning to chat with both the loved ones in my life until the battery dies on my flimsy phone. Disposing of my only source of contact I hope this closure will give me more time to just clear my head and focus on my quest.

Emily Corona William March William March, the shortest boy in the fifth grade. He towered at 4’2”, as his classmates look down on him from an average of 5 feet. People always had a hard time believing him, because he would tell the most elaborate tales. Today was just like any other Monday. Ms. Petree’s students were sharing about their weekends. As usual Will was ecstatic to share what new adventures he had stumbled upon. When she got to the last of the class, everyone knew they were in for a big treat. Ms. Petree always saved William for last, not only because his were the longest stories by far, but because the other students had requested that she “save the best for last.” “Alright, it’s your turn William.” She smirked as she called on him—a small red headed boy who was about to burst out of his seat at any moment. Instantly, when called on, Will shaped up and walked to the front of the class, classic William behavior. Will’s best friend Riley just couldn’t take the suspense and asked, “So will what did you do this weekend?” “Well my friend, I stayed at my grandmother’s house.” He grinned in that confidant way of his. “Her house looks like any other on that street…on the outside.” William made his eyes wide with wonder and watched the other children’s reactions. “ But While I was checking the house for enemy spy cameras, or as we call them in the business, bugs, I found a small wooden door hidden behind a mountain of tax papers.” He motioned with his arms that the stack was truly massive. “Before I could find out what was behind that mysterious door I had to tackle the monstrosity of paper. So I geared up for the climb.” “It was hard and treacherous, but I finally made it to the small door. It was about half my size with a tiny stain glass window in the middle and a crystal door knob on the right side.” The girls in the class Oo’d and Ahh’d. “I leaned up against the door to listen for any signs of danger on the other side, but all that I heard was silence.” “Naturally I opened the door slowly, looking around.” The students were on the edges of their seats. “And do you know what I saw?” the other students shook their heads. “There was a long, deep, dark, slimy, disgusting tunnel leading into the unknown.” “Did you go in?” asked Riley. “Of course I went in!” William scoffed. “I crawled through the awful tunnel for what seemed like hours, for a while I didn’t think there was an end!” Other students were making faces at the thought of crawling through grotesque tunnels. “I saw a light and began to climb faster towards it, but when I got close I fell through the tunnel into a slide of smelly goo and carried me all the way down to another miniature wooden door. Only difference was that this one had “BEWARE” carved into the front.” The girls gasped. William shrugged “so I opened it.” He said with a smile. “ Inside was the most beautiful forest I have ever seen! Exotic flowers and winding trees like nothing anyone has ever seen…except for me of course.” He chuckled “ I was so dazzled by the alien forest that I didn’t notice the creature that was hunting me in the near bushes.” The other students looked scared. “I walked no farther than 10 feet when I was pounced on by the questionable creature that was stalking me! I wrestled with it till we were both tired and panting.” “This creature was furry all over with one enormous eye smack dab in the middle of its forehead, it also had bat like wings on each side of its head and fuzzy bunny feet.” The other children started to smile again when they realized how ridiculous that creature looked. “He got up and blinked his big eye at me” William blinked his eyes a few time for the class. “Then what happened?” Riley just couldn’t contain himself. “Well this fluffelous, which is what it’s called, invited me out for dinner! He took me through huge trees and a forest of massive rainbow colored mushrooms to get to his den.” As William went on about his adventures with his new found fluffelous friend, Ms. Petree looked at her watch. “Alright class we have to get to work.” She had stopped Will in mid sentence, which caused not only him to give her a glare but for the whole class to do the same with a conjoined groan. The whole day William could not wait to tell the rest of his story to anyone who would listen. Ever since he could talk he had been telling the craziest stories he could think up, but in his mind no one else knew they were made up. What he really wanted was an adventure, but those are particularly hard to come by as an elevenyearold living in the suburbs. Finally the bell rang for recess. Every 5 th grader ran out into the playground to play dodge ball, soccer, jump rope or any other highly physical game, but not William. He would spend his time charming the recess supervisors with his stories. Today was no exception, he walked right up to the first supervisor he saw and just picked up his story where he had left off. “So I was in the den of my new found friend, and it was amazing! There was a purple moss carpet and pretty blue flower lights!” The supervisor saw a couple of kids rough housing, but didn’t move. She wasn’t sure whether she should go tell them to knock it off or stay and listen to the deeply disturbed little boy that was telling her a ridiculous tale. She ended up staying, hoping that another supervisor would take care of it. William saw that she was suddenly distracted and instantly changed his story to be more interesting. “It was a nice little den until…” he looked up to make sure the supervisor was listening. “The Fluffelous tried to get me to go in a huge pot!” Will motioned how huge it was with his arms. “Turns out my new friend wanted to eat me all along. How rude!” The supervisor stifled a laugh at the disgust in the little boy’s tone. “So you know what I did?” She shook her head, William noticed a flicker of disbelief in her expression. He started to panic. How could somebody not believe his great adventure? There were plenty of twists and it was full of action, who wouldn’t believe it? Was he not cunning enough? What was this world coming to? Cautiously he continued, being careful to watch the supervisor’s expression. “I gave that fluff ball a swift kick in the pants and ran all the way through the forest, and the tunnel to get home safe!” He smiled, pleased that he had finally finished his story. William quickly searched her face for any hint of disbelief. She looked much more convinced than before. “Sounds like quite an adventure you had!” The supervisor smiled at him. Pleased with himself William responded. “It was, wasn’t it?” William said as he strolled away.

Jordan Diel All Ball The Cage is not a place for the below average hooper. Often times it’s not even welcoming to the average baller. If you want to play basketball here you’d better be good at one of two things: Playing basketball or talking trash. The Cage is a very worn basketball court, surrounded by a tall, chainlinked fence. It may not be the most appealing court with its rusty, metal rims, ripped up nets and graffiti art displayed on both backboards, but nobody minds because it’s the only place to ball. “Are you gonna guard me or what boy?” Donny said. “It’s just too easy right now, can somebody please stop me?” Donny is very good at one aspect of the game, and that is talking trash. His basketball skills are very minimal but when he’s hot, he’s hot, that also goes for anybody else that plays basketball. Today happens to be one of those days. “The problem isn’t about someone stopping you, the problem is that you actually scored,” Sarge said. Sarge is a tall, scrawny looking man with a thin, gray beard covering his chin. He’s the most respected guy that comes through The Cage. “Yeah it’s not every day you see something like this happen, must be a blue moon tonight,” I said. The game was over after about fifteen minutes of play to eleven points by ones and twos. Donny’s team won so of course he had to gloat about all of his highlights. He walked over towards our direction; sweat dripping from his moppy, black hair, his big hands resting on his hips. As he was approaching us, I couldn’t help but stare at his big, goofy grin and his ugly butt chin. “Did you see those dimes out there?” Donny said, “I can’t be stopped today, I hit up at least four people that game and snatched all ya’lls cookies.” “All you do is run your mouth, Don,” I said. “The only other time you’ve ever done this good is when you ran pickups with the fourth graders.” “Okay JD, since you think you’re Mr. Big Shot then why don’t you guard me next game and we’ll see who comes out on top.” “Easy enough, especially since I’ll be guarding you.” I’m not the ideal basketball player in most eyes. Standing at six feet even and weighing about a buck fifty, I don’t exactly fit the basketball image. My skills are average, maybe even below average depending on whom you’re talking to. If you were to ask my mother, she’d tell you that I’m an outstanding basketball player; she also doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I may say a lot of bad things about Donny and his basketball skills, but the truth is he’s much better than I am. “Let’s go, check ball,” Donny said. “I’m ready to ball on these fools.” Before we checked the ball in play, I pulled my right leg up to my rear to stretch it out and then did the same for my left. I looked up at the wooden roof that was lit by bright lights and closed my eyes for a couple seconds. When I looked back at Donny and opened my eyes, I slapped the ball in between my hands to indicate that I was ready to ball. “Alright, game to fifteen this time, by twos and threes,” Sarge said, “Call your own fouls but I’ll step in if it gets out of hand.” “Check it,” I said, in a soft, not so confident voice. I checked the ball in to Donny and the game was underway. It didn’t take too long for them to score the first basket. Already, I felt the disappointment of what was soon to come, but I couldn’t show weakness so I kept my head high and prepared myself for offense. “My assist, you just can’t cool me off,” Donny said. My team brought the ball down to their end. I was passed the ball. I put it down on the ground but only got off two dribbles before Donny stole the ball from me and went down to our end to score a layup. “Cookies,” Donny said while running back down the court with a stupid looking grin on his face. We brought the ball back down again but this time we scored a three. “Four, three,” Sarge shouted as Donny’s team brought the ball up. The ball was in Donny’s hand and he decided he wasn’t going to pass it this time. “It’s take over time boys,” Donny said while dribbling the ball. He took a couple dribbles to the left, crossed over to his right and pulled up from the freethrow line. He knocked it down for his fourth point of the game. Now his cockiness has started to get the best of him. “Game time baby, where you at JD?” Donny said while back peddling back on defense. I’m not much for trash talking during a game so I kept my mouth shut for the majority of the game. I’ve been passed the ball again and I didn’t want a repeat of my last possession. This time I pump faked, got Donny up in the air and drove down the lane for a layup. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have those, don’t want to hurt your feelings too bad,” Donny said. “Six, Five,” Sarge said. “Close game so far.” Indeed, the game was close, too close. Both teams kept going back and forth, trading leads. But it was now game point and the ball was in my hands. The score was thirteen to twelve; we had the lead. All we needed was a two to win. I only had four points at this stage but I wanted to hit the winning shot to rub it in Donny’s face. I stood at the wing, outside of the threepoint line calling for the ball. I received the pass from my teammate, I knew I couldn’t miss this shot or my team would kill me. I gave Donny a jab to the right to get him off balance then followed it up with a hard dribble to the left, towards the baseline. I stopped, pulled up and let it fly. It seemed as if time had slowed down and my reputation was riding on this game winning shot even though it was only a pickup. I squinted as I watched the ball come down towards the hoop and hoped that it would fall. Swish. Nothing but net. The game was over and I had hit the game winning shot. “Yes!” I belted out with excitement, “Game over, we win!” “Calm down JD, you won one game and I wasn’t even trying, big deal,” Donny said while slowly walking off the court. “It was a good game, don’t be such a sore loser,” I said. Donny had nothing smart to say anymore. He walked over to his stuff, put on his sweatshirt and left the court. “Finally, someone shut that kid up,” Sarge said. “Good game JD, you’re lookin’ good out there, kid.” It was always something special when Sarge complimented anyone on their game so I took it to heart. “Thank you,” I replied. “I really appreciate that.” I haven’t yet proved to be anything more than an average kid that enjoys playing basketball but I have shown, today, that I can compete. I walked off the court and gathered my belongings. The day was over but that game will be forever remembered.

Kathryn Hedges

Hot Pockets

It was an amazing day – Sunny, with some speckled clouds around. The sun’s rays gave me warmth. That’s most important, what with me balding and such. Mange is a beautiful thing; now I freeze easy. Then again, Seattle isn’t the best place to be a stray, with the sporadic weather. Just last week we saw clouds, sleet, hail, rain, and warm sunshine all in about three hours. Anyway, my hearing’s gone, my fur is gone, and my hind leg is gone… I’ve got loads going for me. I could be a bachelor, couldn’t I? I could see my personal ad now: Mangy, broken kitty seeks orange, blue-eyed fluff ball. Just think of the calls I’d get. I walked through a holly bush and a fur chunk stuck with it, low to the ground. Ugh, not again. My fur came out on my way to Madison’s. More fur gone doesn’t bother me, if I get to be with her. She’s my best friend, and I’m hers. A home and consistent affection had never blessed me before. A human, though? That’s the strange aspect. Despite my appearance, she still took to me. Inside is off limits, but she’s a smoker. Outside is her calling. I don’t mind the smell. Iridescent aquamarine captivates me, in her eyes and mine…. We’re twins, I swear. Small for our age and a bit too skinny (Malnourishment’s my sentence, addiction is hers), we have big attitudes to make it up. Between two houses in the shade, on Madison’s side of the property, my toes touched cold, mossy pavement. I turned the corner onto her wooden deck. Covered with potted plants left by her mom. A big cherry tree leaned over her patio, cherries becoming ripe, despite the crazy weather. Consistently green grass was growing. Walking up to the porch, Madison was sitting on the stairs eating a Hot Pocket. Ham and cheese filled my nostrils; my favorite. The charm’d have to be amplified this time. I wanted some of it, and was determined. Creeping closer, I opened my eyes reeeal wide, proceeding to purr and face rub her calf. Madison reached down and stroked my chin, shifting her Hot Pocket. Ham and cheese permeated my senses. Determination over came me. I was running out of time; she was halfway through. One thing I know a bout her is that she eats very slowly, buying me time. I prowled around her back and started to nonchalantly smell her wrist. Scent on it, smell it. Repeat. Glancing down, she took another bite. Her long, dark hair brushed my back lightly. One fourth of the Hot Pocket left; my last chance. Patiently, hind leg planted firmly on the ground, I waited. She looked away, and I went in for the kill. Slowly, I approached the Hot Pocket and began licking the warm, gooey cheese. I nibbled… whoops! Too much movement; she jerked around, analyzed the situation and pulled away. “FELINE!” she shrieked. “How could you? My mom never has money for food.” I shrunk back, my grey and charcoal striped fur standing up on edge. That’s what I was afraid of; A thick layer of guilt. What can I say? My last meal was a millipede, but now I felt bad because of how upset she looked. I purred and looked up endearingly, rubbed my head on her arm and used as much body language as I possibly could to apologize. She sensed it. “You know what, I’ll just give you the rest… it’s fine.” She put it in my mouth, stood up, brushed herself off and went inside. Yum, my favorite flavor of Hot Pocket…. Ham, cheese, and guilt.

* * *

Feline was eating my Hot Pocket when I walked inside; I needed air. My heart was pounding. I’d never felt this anxious before. Did I just see what I thought I saw? I grabbed him a water bowl. Outside again, he looked at me and started purring; I set the water down for him and lightly scratched his ears. Feline was distracted enough with clean water that I could take a closer look at him… on his frail, bony neck; he had a sea of burgundy, bloody worms engulfing him. That was definitely not there the last time I saw him. A whole chunk of his skin was gone; I wouldn’t have known if it was bone. My heart broke in two. I loved Feline, and a feeling arose; this was going one of my last chances to be with him. Thinking, I scratched his ears more empathetically. “Hey, baby. There ya go.” I set the bowl down. He purred incessantly to the sound of my voice. Never had I felt a stronger bond with anyone, especially an animal. Climbing into my lap after I sat back down, he tried rubbing his face on me. I loved him, but didn’t want to touch his wound. Those maggots or whatever the hell they were obviously eating my best friend – my somewhat furry, happygolucky, threelegged best friend. Tears welled up in my eyes; how would I feel without Feline greeting me at my back door? Cuddling up with me while I smoked? His big, baby eyes pierced mine. The best thing I could do is enjoy the time I had with him. Nothing else was important, so I could spend quality time with my baby. I walked into the kitchen to make Feline his very own Hot Pocket…. Too bad he didn’t have the time to enjoy it.

Hannah Hensel

Untitled It was so far a dull day in the Midway Hospital’s Emergency Room, had only received two patients, even those weren’t the most serious of cases only one or two major issues, even those issues weren’t ‘major’. The pink plastic wrapped chairs were only a quarter occupied. The small crowd of people that made up this waiting room were over anxious mom’s with a sniffely kid in their arms, just another case of a typical cold blown up to the Swine Flu. Even the kids seemed to be better, some of the older ones were fiddling with the blocks and wind up toys we offered, while their parents were hurriedly filling out the insurance forms and what not. Being an E.R. nurse accustomed to internal bleeding and limbs hanging on to their owners by a thread of ligament this was a peaceful Friday night in Long Beach California. Around ten Brad came into work the computer next to me. Since it was such a slow night some of the nurses were forced to take up the dreaded work of the desk job. “They got you too huh?” I said to Brad lifting my eyes off my Tetris game for a second to acknowledge him. “You seen Rose anywhere tonight?” “Stupid receptionists. I don’t understand why they can’t just work the night, I mean we have to. But no I haven’t, sorry. I think her chart said she checked out for the night,” He said sitting down next to me. “Damn, I was going to give her a ride home, she seemed really tired, I hope she got home okay.” I said mainly to myself, “but seriously ‘Because they can’t work overtime’ ” I said mocking what one of them had said to Lauren, our boss, earlier that day. “Whining, that’s all I ever hear from them, they’re just as bad as the three yearolds I give shots too. But whatever, what’s your highest Tetris score, I bet I can beat it.” He said. I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Man you really are bored, trying to make a competition out of Tetris…” I said as I glanced over the mountain of insurance forms. “Yeah well we didn’t go through four years of college for this.” Brad complained. “100,000,” I replied, not bothering to take my eyes off the paperwork. “Huh?” “My Tetris score.” “Pssh that’s nothing. I can beat it, easy.” Brad said, clearly excepting my challenge. “I bet you can’t, and just to make this night more interesting the person who gets the highest score gets the next case, and gets to leave this dumb work.” “Deal” Brad said and turned to his computer, “Why don’t you play on yours?” “Because if someone actually needs something, which I highly doubt it’s like a desert in here, I won’t have to pause my game and potentially screw it up.” I murmured, not trying to let the whole population of the E.R., however small it may be, know our procrastination agenda. “Alright that’s a good idea” Brad chuckled. “Before I start though I’m going to feed my stomach, want anything from the vending machine?” I asked as I pushed my chair back and headed out towards the vending machines. Tonight looked like it was going to be another gourmet meal of poptarts and chocolate milk. “No, I think I’ll wait and have some of the delicious noodles and cheese with just a hint of plastic taste from the cafeteria on my break.” “Good idea,” I said sarcastically walking towards the vending machines. Seeing Chelsey I went over and made small talk with her while waiting my turn to get my food. “What are you getting?” “Not sure yet.” She said putting her quarters in the coin slot, I glanced around her shoulder as she bent over, they had my favorite kind of poptart, brown sugar and cinnamon. “Yes!” I exclaimed. “They have your favorite kind?” asked Chelsey. “Yes, brown sugar and cinnamon poptarts is where it’s at. “I’m a fan of the CheeseItz and coke combination myself,” She said straightening up showing me her selection. “That’s a another good one I usually save that one for special occasions though. Hey, have you seen Rose around? Brad said she checked out but I didn’t think her shift ended till later.” “Nah, I think Brads right,I think she left, her shift ended about two hours ago.” Chelsey said opening her food. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot her hours got moved around on Fridays. Thanks Chels, I’ll see you around” I said smiling at her she turned and left. I quickly made my selection and started to head back to my desk. I immediately realized something was wrong, the atmosphere had changed drastically, all the mom’s weren’t so focused on their paper work, a few kids were crying, and Brad was absent from his spinning chair. I started to walk faster and turning the corner I observed what was going on. There were 3 stretchers rushing down the hall, and there was a trail of blood following. “There’s one more girl!” cried one of the ambulance men sprinting in with a another stretcher, “She’s critical, we need to get her into surgery, she has a massive head wound and internal bleeding among other things.” “I’ll take her!” said a surgeon coming in to help push the unconscious girl into an operating room, “Clarke, you’re with me.” “Patient is 24, female, with massive head wounds and internal bleeding of the spleen,” I said numbly realizing who the patient was. It’s Rose. I stopped dead taking it all in, my best friend, my life long friend, here, on the stretcher in front of me, my patient. My brain won’t comprehend it, it just can’t be her. “What else does the chart say? Does it say how she got these injuries?” “EMT’s report says most likely fell asleep at the wheel” I realized then that if I would have found her earlier and offered a ride home during my break she wouldn’t be here, she would be home, not on her death bead. This is all my fault. I started to sink lower and lower with guilt. “Well that doesn’t tell us much, we’re just going to go in and remove the damaged area, now.” The head surgeon’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “Uhm, yes. Patient has a history of allergy’s to typical anesthesia, so we have to use the alternative.” I said not needing to look at my chart for the stat. When we were kids we were climbing trees, Rose fell out and broke her arm in three places, she had to have surgery, and had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. By now we had rolled into the OR and were preparing for the operation, “Good to know, here we go everyone gloves and mask’s on, let’s save this girl.”

Ryan Howard

Secrets of Mulberry Street Dark, Dreary, Dull. The old lady had no signs of life. Everything around her seemed dead, dead tree’s, dread branches; rotting corpses of small furry animals you tend to see on the front of greeting cards surrounded her house. Although many wouldn’t call it a house, more of a shack, colorless, dull. Sitting down with her was like sitting down with the grim reaper. Death loomed over her hunched back and saggy skin, eyes set back in her head, almost nonexistent. Smell of death seeped out of every square inch of this place. She let him into her house, not saying a word; her back turned to him by the time he was able to look in. The sun never found its way here, nor did man’s light. Candles illuminated the lifeless walls. “Please, sit down,” said the old woman, hobbling around with a wooden cane, the handle of which was a dried head of a diamond back rattler snake, the most feared snake in rural Australia. “Thanks” said Grithom, looking everywhere but at her. “How come you have always been there?” he questioned, slightly over eager, fingers whirling around one another. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the old lady. “The letters, when I get the letters I always see you, you have been there, looking at me.” Grithom, now staring at the ground, waited for her answer. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” the lady said. She had moved away from Grithom into the kitchen, more so a dark corner that seemed to be a kitchen of some sort, and walked out with a pot of boiling water. “You know something, and your not telling me. Every time one of those letters arrives, you stand across the street or at the corner just staring at me. And you cant tell me it’s just coincidence.” Grithom’s voice rose a bit. “Tea?” asked the old lady, ignoring his statement completely. “You’re ignoring my question!” Grithom was now on his feet, looking her dead in the eyes, his voice almost at a level of shouting. She looked back at him with her failed liver yellow eyes. “SIT DOWN BOY!” she shouted back. “I WILL TALK TO YOU AFTER WE HAVE HAD OUR TEA!” Grithom, surprised by her intensity, and afraid of the glow in her eyes, did as he was told. “Now, would you like some tea or not?” she asked. “Yes, with two sugars,” Grithom now looked away from her in embarrassment, but still wanted her to answer his question. After sitting in complete silence for a few seconds, he got the nerve to ask again. “So why are you there? Why have you always been there when the letters arrive?” “Because I’m a deliverer.” “A deliverer for what? The post office?” “No, for THEM.” “Who is them? Who are they? What’re you talking about?” He now listened intently, waiting for the words to roll off her blistered lips. “THEM. They control everything, they know everything, they are the world around you. Do you believe you have freedoms? You don’t. Every step you make, they control it. Every thing you do is controlled by them. You wont know who they are, that’s their purpose. Amongst everyday people, they live just like everyday people. But they aren’t. They have the power to do what they want, when they want” “Did you forget your medicine today lady? That’s a bunch of bullshit.” Grithom wasn’t sure what to think. This was all a little extreme. “Your brother figured it out,” She said. Grithom now knew she was either telling the truth, or was toying with his emotions. “Don’t talk about something as serious as that. Do you understand?” “Your brother was smart. Somehow he pieced it all together. He took was right, looked at what was wrong. He understood people, how they act, how they work. Once they realized that he knew, they came after him. They were going to kill him.” She had a look on her face, a face of sorrow. Grithom no longer doubted her sincerity. “So is he…ya know, gone?” he asked, assuming he knew the answer. “No” “What? I thought these people knew everything and did everything or whatever you said.” “Yes, but because he figured them out he got away. I cannot tell you where he is at because I do not know. No one does. Except for you.” “Me? How would I know? Don’t you think if I knew I would have found him by now?” he was in a state of confusion right now. “Those letters, your brother intercepts them as they arrive, and leaves coded messages in them, explaining most of everything to you. I don’t know how he does it, but he does, and its up to you to figure out this code. Your brother is the only one that can save us from their rule. Your brother is the answer we have been searching for.” Grithom was left in a state of shock, not sure what to think. His brother was alive, and now it was his duty to find him, his duty help take down whoever THEM was, his duty to stop what ever it was that was happening. His mind was already racing. He had a plan.

Siyi Jiang

Everything is a Gift My mom opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and lifted out a tissuewrapped package. “This,” said my mother, “this ring is from your grandmother, she gave it to me when you were born.” With a smile, she discarded the tissue and handed the ring to me. It was an exquisite, handmade and trimmed with gold, ring. “For me?” I asked, twirling the ring between my fingers. “Your grandmother wanted to give it to you when you turned eighteen, but she won’t get the chance to do it now,” replied my mom with tear brimming in her eyes. My room fell into silence as I stood there, looking at her. “Your grandmother bought this when she went to New York, she wanted to save this ring for your special occasion. She wanted you to know, ‘everything is a gift, treasure your time,’” my mom continued. I guess this was the occasion. Today was my birthday, the same day my grandmother passed away. My mom took the ring from me, and put it on my finger. She said, “Don’t save anything for a special occasion, everyday is a special occasion. Save your time.” Since that day, I always kept my mom and my grandma’s words in my heart. Sitting inside my room, I thought about my future. Before my grandma died, drawing used to be my passion and something that I was good at. Art seemed to be the only thing that brought peace and contentment to my life. After my grandma died, I was lost my passion for art. She was always the one to encourage me. Looking out of my window, the sky was clear outside and the sun shone brightly but the weather was a stark contrast with my confused feelings. My friends kept telling me about an art competition, pushing me to enter. I wasn’t sure if I should participate in this competition. I stood up and walked to my window with a sigh. I rubbed the ring on my finger with a thoughtful expression. “Should I go for this competition?” I silently thought to myself, staring down at the ring. Suddenly, my grandma’s face popped into my mind. The way she smiled proudly when I showed her my drawings always made me feel warm inside. I thought about what my mom said, “Your grandma wanted you to know, ‘everything is a gift, treasure your time.’” “Everything is a gift?” I muttered, “Then my passion is also a gift, I need to treasure it.” I smiled and lifted the ring up. “Thank you, grandma.” I whispered. Later that day after dinner, I went to my studio. On the easel, there was a big portrait in the middle of the room that I hadn’t finished. In the portrait there were sunflowers facing the sun. There was a girl looking up toward the sky. Standing by the door, I thought about my grandma again. How I wish I could give this to her as a birthday present. I slowly walked toward the portrait and picked up my brush. I dipped my brush into the palette on my hand, and started to paint. I wanted to finish this picture even though I couldn’t show it to my grandma now. I would finish this, then go to the art competition. I would make my grandma proud as she looked at me from the sky. Two months later, I got a letter from the Art Center. My heart beat with both anticipation and fear. Holding my breath, I opened the letter. I won first place! And my artwork was going to be in an art show! I jumped and ran outside. I looked up at the sky, “Grandma, did you see that? I won! From now on, I won’t be put off. I won’t hold back anymore.” I looked back when I heard footsteps behind me. My mom ran out with a concerned look on her face. Her concerned expression turned into a happy one when I told her the news. My mom came to stand near me and put her arm around my shoulder. We both looked up at the sky. “Tell me what you see in the sky, Elva.” My mom suddenly said with a small smile. I gave her a confused look before turning to look upward. “Rainbow. And sunshine,” I replied. “Maybe this is a gift from your grandma, she wants you to never give up. Remember, there are always dark days but sunshine and rainbows will be there waiting for you at the end,” said my mom, looking at me with her gentle eyes. I smiled and put my ring finger up. The ring sparkled under the sunlight. I realized that this ring was not just a valuable gift from my grandma, but also a message of encouragement from her.

Jared LeMoineKowalski

Lake Lopel The sun ducked below the horizon, as darkness fell over the lake. Greg had just finished pitching his tent and began planning for dinner. “Hey Jim! What do you want to do for dinner,” Greg yelled into the closed tent. Greg waited a couple minutes for a response and hastily entered the tent. Jim was on the floor sleeping as sound as a log. “Give me a couple minutes, that hike was exhausting. A man needs to rest after a ten mile hike,” Jim groaned. Greg had known Jim since they were kids and he was all too aware of Jim’s sleeping habits. “Fine. I will meet you down at the lake in ten minutes. Make sure to bring the tackle box and your fishing pole,” Greg said. “Will do,” Jim replied, rolling over on his side. After leaving Jim to catch his last minutes of shuteye, Greg started to make his way down to lake. Greg and Jim had planned this camping trip, in an attempt to relieve the stresses of everyday life. Both friends founded a successful realestate firm in Seattle. Greg always looked forward to coming to Northern Wisconsin, but dreaded returning to a full load of home sales and a nagging girl friend. As Greg neared the lakeshore, the thick tree branches began to thin and the dark soil turned into fine sand. The northern sun reflected a thin light off the murky water giving a spooky effect. A nearby owl perched on a tree branch, screeched as Greg passed. Minutes after Greg set up his gear, hear Jim’s voice. “Any bites yet?” Jim bellowed. “Nope, but with your looks the fish are bound not to bite for the rest of the night,” retorted Greg. “Haha, you are such a funny guy,” Jim scoffed. “Let me show you how a real pro does it.” With a quick flick of the wrist, Jim sent the lure hurling over the glassy water. With the expertise of a pro, Jim jigged the line back and forth around sunken logs and lily pads. “I’ve hooked a big one,” Jim gasped, as he skillfully tugged on the line. Minutes later, a large trout was dragged up onto the shore. “Boy, that’s a beauty,” said Greg. I bet you five bucks you cannot catch another one”. Within minutes, Jim had another fish on the beach. “Okay, wise guy. Double or nothing,” said Greg. Jim happily flung the lure out near a half submerged log. The line immediately grew taught. “No way, not another one,” Greg said mournfully. “I don’t think it is another one. It feels more like a snag on that rotting log,” responded Jim. “That is my favorite lure. Since you caught us dinner, I will go unhook the snag,” said Greg hastily. Greg Swiftly entered the murky water and tried to follow the line. “Pull the line tight so I can see where the lure is stuck,” yelled Greg back to the shore. “Okay. Whatever you say boss,” Yelled Jim. With a quick tug, Jim quickly pulled the line taught. Greg could easily see where the shimmering line disappeared below the murky surface. Greg swiftly traced the line down to the lure and tried to untangle it. However, the lure appeared to be trapped between a large rock and the rotten, moss covered log. “Hey Jim, help me get this rock up,” yelled Greg to the shore. Within minutes, Jim’s large frame was bounding into the water. “In need of my muscles?” Jim chuckled. With a large heave, Greg and Jim grabbed the rock and lifted with all their might. To their delight, the lure easily became free and floated gracefully to the surface. Suddenly Greg noticed that Jim’s face was pale white and his eyes were as wide as his waistline. Greg hastily followed Jim’s line of sight. To his horror, a corpse of a young man had surfaced where the lure had been removed. The body was covered in ragged clothes and the flesh had begun to rot from the bone. The aroma was so strong and putrid that Greg stumbled back. “Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?” exclaimed Jim. “I don’t believe this. How did a dead body end up in three feet of water?” remarked Greg. “We have to get out of here now,” yelled Jim in a frightened tone. “Give me your phone” “No reception buddy, sorry,” remarked Greg. Suddenly a bloodcurdling scream broke the air. Jim jumped. Greg faltered back. “What and where did that come from?” Both Greg and Jim said simultaneously. Jim looked across the lake to where the sound had seemed to originate. He could barely make out a small structure through the brush. “Pass me the binoculars,” Jim asked Greg. With the binoculars up to his face, Jim could make out a small cabin on the other side of the lake. “I thought this place had no inhabitants,” remarked Jim shivering. “I didn’t think the legends were true,” Said Greg with a look of horror. “What legend?” Jim. “The legend of the “Lopel Killer,”” remarked Greg. Another blood curdling scream broke the night. Both Greg and Jim took off towards the camp. Jim and Greg passed the campsite and made for the car. Ten minutes later Jim and Greg were in the car. “What were you thinking?” yelled Jim. “I’m sorry, I thought I told you about the recent sightings,” retorted Greg. “Sightings? What sightings?” gasped Jim, wide eyed. “I heard on the local new a mysterious killer has been in the area,” explained Greg. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Are you out of your mind? Seriously, you are an idiot,” said Jim. “I already told you I was sorry. What more do you want me to do?” responded Greg.

Estefania Loeza

Overawe I was across the living room right by the pantry. I was looking for something to eat that was high in carbohydrates. My blood sugar was thirtyfive, way too low, and it can get dangerous. While I was doing that I heard her opening the door. I could see her through the kitchen bar and by her face expression I could tell she wasn’t happy. I finally I found a bag of skittles. I opened it and started eating. I went and sat on the coach and started watching TV. Emily came out of the bathroom and saw me eating Skittles. She looked at me like if she was ready to explode. “What are you eating?” Emily asked me with a really low tone. “Skittles,” I answered. In those moments I was feeling dizzy and sweaty because my blood sugar was so low. “Daniel your diabetes is out of control do you really think is a good idea for you to be devouring candy? I mean do you even care about your health? I don’t want to alwas nagging, you really need to start taking care of your diabetes.” While she was telling me all of this I was getting angry. If I don’t eat this I could die and here she is nagging at me like she always is. “Emily you don’t even know why I’m eating this. My blood sugar is low. Why don’t you ask first instead of assuming that I’m just eating this just because I want to? I know my diabetes has been crazy I know it and better than you. It’s hard for you to understand because you don’t live with this. You don’t know how is like to have diabetes, its not easy.” I was feeling sick and almost sure I was going to pass out. I became very angry. My hands and knees were shaking. While I was telling her how I felt she was looking at me like if I was crazy. I don’t know what was in her mind but I knew it wasn’t good. “Whatever Daniel I’m just looking out for you.” “It’s not my fault that you’re not having a good day. Why do you always find a way to make me feel bad? I appreciate you caring for me. It just irritates me that you judge me and always think I don’t take care of my diabetes.” I could see that she wasn’t getting any happier and this wasn’t going to be pretty. “I can’t believe we are having this discussion. Can’t you understand that I want you to be healthy? I worry about you every day, I think about it every second. Is it that hard to see that I don’t want to loose you because of your diabetes?” It hit me I felt terrible. I don’t know how she always finds a way to win every time. But I guess she is right in a way. “I understand that Emily but you need to understand that it’s not easy and I’m trying to have my diabetes under control.” We were both aggravated and not in good moods. She looked at me and walked away. As she turned her hair moved around with her. I could smell her clean hair and perfume. I stood there for a moment thinking what was happening to us. I started thinking from these past two months all we do is fight. It made me so sad. I honesty don’t even know if we should be together anymore. That thought didn’t last long at all. As I walked into the room I saw her beautiful face and I remembered the first day I saw her . She was sitting there in front of me and I thought to my self I want her. Since that day she changed my life. She made me a better man and took away my bad habits. I have no idea what would I do without her, she mean everything to me. I stood there for a few more seconds. She was lying on the bed and she looked exhausted. While I was thinking that she opened her eyes and looked at me with her big brown eyes. “Can you not take out things on me?” I asked desperately. “I’m sorry I really am I want us to be okay again I really do” She answered with a frown on her face. She was looking at me and I could see the tears in her eyes. “Look I know you are not having a good day but I need to tell you this. You really need to be more understanding and patient with me. Believe me it’s not easy for me at all and honey I’m sorry but you don’t make it any easier when you yell at me.” As I told her all of this she was looking down and all I could see was her tears dripping on her jeans.

Neva Mahler

MY NAME IS MARY My name is Mary, I’m locked in a 10’ by 10’ stone cell for a crime I did not commit. I’ve lost track of the exact date, but I think it’s either the year 2033 or 2034. I was born to a wealthy family from Boston and raised during the Second Cold War, in which the United States and New Iraq were poised to launch spacebased nuclear weapons at any second. The tension was due to the spread United States’ war in the Middle East. When the U.S. left Afghanistan and Iraq in 2014, A dominant and successful communist party grew from the chaos of postwar Iraq and systematically conquered Jordan, Syria, Iran, and, most recently at least before I was put in prisonSaudi Arabia. But I digress. I graduated Magna Cum Laude from a prestigious private secondary school in Boston and then attended Cambridge for 12 years to receive a degree in space engineering. Today would have been my 6 th anniversary with my husband. We ran away to Iraq for 3 week long honeymoon. We stayed in a 5 star hotel called Ishtar. It was beautiful, marble statues everywhere, long red curtains draped from the vaulted ceilings, and beautiful tile mosaic floors coated the interiors. We stayed on the 11 th floor. The tours we went on were all different navy bases stationed throughout the region, because my husband was a sergeant in the military, so he wanted to see different sites that weren’t American. The night of July 10 th 2024 I was arrested. I was taken away from my husband, family, and life. I was mistaken as a spy for the United States. I have been locked up ever since. The laws in Iraq are not the same as they are in America. Their is no way I can get out of jail until my term is up. I cant stand sharing a building with people who have murdered children, bombed houses, and killed soldiers. I have a plan, and I’m going to escape. The security here is limited, and I think I can escape smoothly. I’ve been planning for this day for five years, and been digging a hole in the wall with the leg of my bed stand. The wall has turned to a white drape, people here think im trying to decorate or something, even though its my sheets. Since I’m listed as “code red,” I’m on the lowest level of the building. My regular day consist of sitting in my room which has a shower that runs once a week and eating my two meals of green, mushy food that has no flavor. No guards come in here, in fact no one does, I’m all alone This hole is so deep in my room I’m almost outside. Once I’m outside I’ll have to crawl out at exactly 2pm. This is when the dogs go and eat. I have 20 minutes until its 2:00pm. I can’t believe this is finally going to go through. After all of the blisters, scars, and cuts on my hands they will finally go to use. I grab my sheets, and my food for the three mile jog back to the city of Iraq. Here we go. I crawl out of the hole. I look to my right and then to my left. I’m already covered in mud. It was a small hole to fit through for my 110 pound body. I put my hands down, and then slowly press my body against the dirt, I begin to crawl. The crawl is painful, the rocks and dirt are leaving shallow scrapes along my elbows, and all of my weight is centered on my knees causing big gashes into my white soft skin. I can feel my red blood drip out of my wounds. The pain is bringing havoc into my body. But I keep going. I’ve only been crawling for ten minutes, but there seems to be no one outside. I haven’t seen any cars. The mud and trash on the roads have a sour, pungent smell. The waves off the pavement are confusing me, it looks like water but it’s just the intense heat. I begin running, I haven’t seen anyone, or anything, well if you want to count the one lonely cow. I don’t know where to go theirs no one in site. The smell is getting worse. I can feel my stomach getting weaker and weaker. I run faster and faster, I’m beginning to feel alone and scared. All the buildings are torn down, it looks like a bulldozer had pushed them all over at the same time. The smell is getting worse, I can feel the acid in my stomach repelling the smell and making me want to puke. I realize something. No one is here. No life is in the area besides the cow. I find a TV laying out on the old side walk that used to be brick that is now just decaying red patch of dust. It says in bold, red, new roman times, “IRAQ ATTAKED WITH NUCLEAR BOMB”

Now I am alone.

DJ Oliver

HEFFER The faint cry of children at recess was causing Ronnie to squirm in his seat. It was the only thing you could hear from inside the classroom. His focus was out the window as he watched the other kids play on his toys. “That’s not fair,” he whispered to himself, “I’m the king of the jungle gym.” The door squeaked open and Mr. Barnes snuck in. This was the first time he had ever kept Ronnie in at recess. He was just a small twelveyear old boy. He had messy red hair that he really liked to play with, and was wearing his signature leather jacket that his mom gave to him. “You really did it this time Ronnie,” said Mr. Barnes, “You have done a lot of bad things, but this is by far the worst.” “What are you talking about? Do you remember the time duct taped all the bathroom doors shut? That was a pretty good one,” explained Ronnie. “Ok, the second worst,” said Mr. Barnes. In the back of the classroom lay an empty cage. It looked so lonely back there. So dark, so vacant. It used to be a popular place for the rest of the students. Earlier in the year, Mr. Barnes decided to get a classroom pet. He thought it would be a good way of teaching the students responsibility. Each week he would assign someone the job of feeding the animal. This week was Ronnie’s turn. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Where did you put the hamster?” asked Mr. Barnes. “ I told you, he ran away,” replied Ronnie. “I know he ran away, but I want to know why you let him out.” “How do you know I did it? Out of all the other kids, you decide to pick on me?” said Ronnie. “No, I didn’t decide to pick on you, it’s just that you are the class trouble maker and it was your turn to feed him this week.” “Oh boloney! I didn’t even want the stupid job in the first place. Maybe I did the class a favor. Besides, he smelled horrible.” Mr. Barnes gave him a confused look. “I let him run back and forth down the hall for a bit, Then I let him loose in the girl’s bathroom. Man the girls’ in this school can scream.” “Then what did you do with him?” asked Mr. Barnes. “I let him go outside. Think of it this way, now you don’t have to worry about him.” The hamster wasn’t just for you, he was for the whole class. How do you think they feel?” “Why should I care? It’s a cutthroat world out there Mr. B, and I’m just looking out for myself.” “Does your father know how you act when you’re at school?” “How should I know, I barely even get to see him,” replied Ronnie “Well I think he should know what’s going on. This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten into trouble.” Ronnie began to tense up. He sat up straighter in his chair and leaned into the conversation. “No really, he doesn’t have to know.” He said as his lip began to quiver. “You can’t talk your way out this time. I think I’m going to have a little conference with your dad this week,” said Mr. Barnes. “ No you cant do that! He works too hard and if he doesn’t have time for me then he sure doesn’t have time for you!” Ronnie’s eyes began to tear up. He clenched his fist and slammed it down on the table. Mr. Barnes leaned over to comfort Ronnie as he began to cry. “I wish my mom was still here,” he mumbled through the tears, “she would be able to meet with you for sure.” Mr. Barnes looked at him awe. Never in a million years did he think he would get Ronnie, the school bully, to open up to him like this. He always knew there was something he was hiding, and he had tried countless time to try and get him to talk.

The bell rang and the kids started to come in from recess. Ronnie quickly wiped his tears with his sleeve and fixed his hair. “If you tell anyone about this I’ll… I’ll…” Ronnie thought for a second, “I’ll tell the whole class it was your fault the hamster ran away. Got it?” Mr. Barnes simply nodded his head. He was still in shock. Now he realized Ronnie’s troubled attitude was just an outlet for all the anger he was holding inside. The room was now full of student and Mr. Barnes got up and walked to the front of the class. “Ok everybody get your books out and get ready for silent reading.” “UGGGGGGHHHHHH,” said the class as Ronnie lead them. “Why do you do this to us? I’ve known how to read for like 5 years!” said Ronnie. Mr. Barnes gave Ronnie the stare down to try and show him who was in charge, but Ronnie just stared back at him. “Help! Help! There’s a monster in the bathroom!” The tension broke as Mr. Barnes rushed to the door. He looked down the hall just as a 3rd grade girl came sprinting around the corner. “WWWAAAWAWWAAA HE’S COMING FOR ME! HE’S GONNA EAT MY LEG OFF!” As the girl ran past, Mr. Barnes continued down the hall to investigate. He figured that the girl was just hallucinating, but even then he was still curious. He peeked his head around the corner and glanced at the ground. After realizing there was nothing there he headed back to class. Upon his arrival the class was cheering. “Look Mr. Barnes, we found Heffer! He ran into class just after you left!” Screamed on of the girls. “That’s great! But where did Ronnie go?” “We’re not sure. He left about the same time you did.” Answered one of the boys.

Daniel Olsen

The Dance of Flame and Shadow Prologue: 8 years ago...

The waterfall ran violently down a small side of the mountain. There was heavy morning mist and the sky was somewhat cloudy, but the sun still shone through a little, creating small rays of light. The elevation wasn’t too high, perhaps the height of a 60 story building, but the mist made it so it was hard to see what was 10 feet in front of you. Two young people, age 17, both male, were sitting on a small bank overlooking the edge of the waterfall. One was a little taller than the other, had brownauburn hair, and brown eyes. The other was a little shorter, had black hair and blue eyes. Both of them had twohanded swords with them. “What do we do in a situation like this, Ortello?” the brownauburn haired teenager asked. “I don’t know, Arlandin, there are a few ideas, but they seem too hard to pull off,” the black haired teenager replied. There was a long pause. “We could do mercenary work, it’s not hard to find something there,” Arlandin finally said. “I was thinking of that, too,” Ortello said. “But we’re no good at fighting…” Arlandin said in a depressed tone.

“I’ve got some money from my blacksmith work, we can use that for lessons,” Ortello replied. Just then, an arrow flew at Arlandin and cut him lightly on his left arm and flew past. Shocked, Arlandin and Ortello looked at the direction from which it came from. Bushes? No, it was... “Ambush!” Ortello exclaimed. A group of five men wearing black bandanas with a sky blue streak on them came out from behind some trees and thick bushes. “Damn Blackwater Bandit lackeys…” Arlandin whispered. Arlandin’s vision was getting blurry…the arrow must have had some sort of poison on it! The bandits wasted no time in advancing towards them with short swords drawn. Ortello, at this time, had already had his twohanded sword up and managed to take out one of the men. Arlandin, knowing doing any major movement would speed the poison, could only parry the oncoming attacks. Another man emerged from a nearby tree. Though, he was taller and was wearing studded leather, carrying a long sword, and wearing a bandana like the other men. By this time, Arlandin and Ortello were near the edge of the waterfall, a sure death to whoever fell. “A valiant effort lads, but to no avail.” The man said. “No…not Malor the Breaker…” Ortello mumbled. “They’re all yours, sir.” One of the men said. The fight continued with Ortello fighting almost on equal ground with Malor. However, a clear winner was blatantly obvious unless Arlandin did something. Arlandin took out a dagger hidden in his boot, and in a last attempt to help Ortello, he threw the small blade at Malor. Even though his vision was worsening, the dagger struck true and hit Malor in the left leg. This was enough for Ortello to finally land a blow across Malor’s chest. Malor flew back about two or three feet, but amazingly, there wasn’t much blood loss on his part. Ortello, confused, examined the slashed area he had made and noticed something glint like…chain mail armor. Malor took the dagger out of his leg and threw it back at Ortello. The blade flew incredibly fast and with next to no time to react, Ortello raised his blade in an attempt to deflect it, only moments too late. The dagger stabbed Ortello in the left shoulder, rendering his left arm useless. Malor, not about to let go of the upper hand, rushed Ortello and kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying past Arlandin, who attempted to save Ortello, and off the cliff of the waterfall. Ortello took the dagger out of his left shoulder and tossed it back up and landed near Arlandin. “Ortello, NO!” Arlandin shouted. It seemed like Ortello fell unconscious from blood loss and his lifeless body falling towards certain death. There was nothing Arlandin could do. “Game over, kid.” Malor said. Arlandin, the poison now reaching it’s peak, fell unconscious as well, with pure rage as his last thought. Malor walked up to Arlandin with the intention of sending him to the same fate as Ortello. Malor picked Arlandin up by the shirt collar.

“One down, one to—AUGH!!” Malor was interrupted by a stabbing pain through his chest. To Malor’s surprise and dismay, Arlandin had plunged his twohanded sword through his chest at a speed he couldn’t even realize. A moment later, the dagger pierced Malor’s kneecap. “Damn kid! I thought you were—” Malor paused and looked at Arlandin. The only thing Malor could see was the whites of Arlandin’s eyes. Arlandin was still unconscious, but revived by pure rage and vengeance for Ortello. Malor let go of Arlandin, but it was no use. Arlandin took the handle of his twohanded sword and took it out of Malor. Unable to move, Malor could only watch as judgement was given to him by Arlandin, who was now rage incarnate. Arlandin waved his hands to make some sort of symbol, and soon after, flames hovered about in the air. “Magic!?” Malor said in terror. Arlandin waved his hands around once more and the flames took on the shape of a dragon’s head, and moments later, blasted Malor in a spectacular pyroclasm. “EEYAAAARGH!!” Malor screamed his dying breath. The man known as Malor was no more than a memory now, any trace of him was completely turned into air, as if he never existed in the first place. As quickly as the fire appeared, it vanished Arlandin’s body fell to the ground. His body lay there for several hours, unmoving and lonely. What Ortello and Arlandin were discussing before was how they’d live on their own when they were older. The events preceding this were the fact their family was killed. Both of them had a mother and father who were killed and one sister and they presumed they were killed as well. They were on their own and needed some way to live. What better way to craft a future than with your best friend? Though, that no longer seemed to be an option now… Arlandin was still unconscious, the only thing working was his mind. Though, in the mind of Arlandin, there was another presence this time…one he had never felt before…

Imani Pélissier

Summer in Greece

It was summer of 2007, a day she’ll never forget. Greece is the perfect place to go on vacation. It’s her first time and she’s eager to get there. The plane has landed and all you can see are the bright shinning sun. Looking for a taxi wasn’t hard to find, as she and her mom walk out of the airport. Igypt sets her bags down and runs to change into her bathing suit. She’s an expert at swimming and swims every chance she gets. Igypt jumps on the board and dives right into the water, as if she were a dolphin in training. She does it all, back flips, front flips, and even hand stands in the water. Igypt hears a laugh and she rises straight up from the water. “I’m sorry did I stop you from your fun?” A tall tanned and handsome Greek boy says. “No, you didn’t. I was jus wondering if you were giggling at me?” Igypt wonders while thinking he might be fourteen like her. “Yes, I apologize for that,” he says. “But why, what was so funny?” asks Igypt. “It was funny in a cute way. You looked a beautiful dolphin just having fun. It’s nice to see that in a girl. Most girls aren’t that way around here. You must be a foreigner right?” he says being so sure of himself. “Oh well yes I am. Not American if you were wondering,” says Igypt. “No not at all. Your accent is far from an American one. Where do you come from, you look mixed? says the boy. “I’m from Trinidad and Tobago. I grew up in different parts of the world though,” Igypt replies. “That’s awesome! My dad actually heard about Trinidad from an uncle and our family took a vacation there and had a great time. It’s a really beautiful island by the way. said the boy with such enthusiasm. “What a coincide?” laughs Igypt. “I’m Emanuel Nicolo, I don’t think I caught your name,” smiles Emanuel. “Nice to meet you Emanuel, my name is Igypt,” says Igypt. “Igypt, that a beautiful name my dear. So Igypt, since you’re new to this country, I was wondering if it was ok if I show you around sometime,” said Emanuel. “That would be awesome!” said Igypt continuously smiling till her cheeks turn red.” “Great, how about tomorrow around one p.m.?” “That’s will be great, see you then,” Says Igypt. “See you till then Igypt,” Emanuel says while he kisses Igypt goodbye on the cheek and smoothly walks away. Igypt’s mom calls out to her and they have their daughter and motherly bond. While with her mom, she tells her about the boy she met by the pool. Her mom listens while she reminisces on the days when she too, had a foreign crush. Her mom just smiles and they get ready to have dinner. Mom watches Igypt as she walks out the door with Emanuel. Emanuel made a great first impression on mom, and she seems to like him. Mom thinks about going down to the pool and relax on the beach chairs while she enjoys her book. She puts on her bathing suit grabs her sunglasses and straw hat and heads to the elevator. She finds a perfect spot to lie down and take in the sun while she reads in peace. Meanwhile, Emanuel’s dad, Victor, just got out of the gym, into the showers and on his way down to the pool section. Today was one of his nonwork days but he still like to check up on his employees. Victor loves to swim; he scurries to the board, jumps off and dives right into the water. “Hey! Igypt’s mom yells because Victor has splashed water on her. “Oh I’m sorry Madame, can I get you anything? Perhaps a towel? ask Victor. “Yes, that would be delightful,” Igypt’s mom, says in a sarcastic voice. Victor runs to get Igypt’s mom a towel. Finally Igypt’s mom slowly takes off her sunglasses and hat. Victor comes back and is at an ah. Isabella is that you? Victor says with such curiosity. “Yes….” Igypt’s mom replies but still not knowing whom it is she’s talking too. “Isabella, It’s me. It’s…. It’s Victor Nicolo. “Victor! No, no, no, no!” cries Isabella. Isabella gets up and dashes away from Victor, while Victor shouts out to her and with the fear in her eyes Isabella doesn’t dare turn back. It was al coming to Isabella now, and she could bare it any longer. It was 18 years ago, before she had precious Igypt, went she had gone to Greece. She met Emanuel’s dad, Victor there and fell in love. It was a summer love that most people get went coming to Greece. Knowing that had a boyfriend back home in Trinidad, she had to break up her and Victor’s relationship. Before leaving Victor and Isabella shared something magically. Isabella never thought she had to bring up the thought that Igypt’s dad could be Victor. She was certain that her exhusband, who Igypt thought was her father, was not her father. What could Isabella do now? She had to make a discussion now. She went to talk to Victor and apologized for freaking out on him. She explains to him everything and Victor just takes it all in. They decide to talk to find out whether or not Victor is or isn’t the father. After months of waiting for DNA test, they found out the truth. Victor was absolutely Igypt’s father. Now the only thing they had to was Igypt and Emanuel the truth.

Riley Van Winkle

The Cold War Just Got Hot The year was 1976 in a quaint town in the middle of nowhere America… Texas specifically. There was not a hill nor is a mountain in sight, the land flat and boring as a piece of paper. George lived on a farm that hasn’t produced a crop in 3 years; the farm was beginning to fall apart and at least a 5 minute run from the nearest town. George’s closest neighbor was on the other side of the cracked and crumbling dirt road. We find George sitting at his dining room table with his mother, their ears glued to the radio. The radio was constantly spitting out details of the ongoing crisis. The newsman reported in a crackly voice “There is no stopping the objects entering U.S. airspace, authorities from the government won’t comment on just what these objects may be. UFO enthusiasts are flocking to Roswell, New Mexico, in hopes of discovering alien life.” "Unbelievable," George managed to stammer. George was a lanky boy for his age. Fresh out of high school at 18 years old, he stayed home for a couple years to try and help his mom finally get some money out of the farm they lived on. George’s mom Mabel was an old fashioned woman who didn’t get out of the house enough after her husband died. George did all the shopping, and all the other chores that require the short trip into town, for Mabel’s neighbors it was almost as if she didn’t exist. After this startling news Mabel redid the chores she had already finished that morning, vacuuming the already clean carpet, and dusting the dust free mantle. George called to his mother from the other room "what do you think it is?" “Probably just a silly hoax," Mabel stutters "Yeah, but what if it isn't?" he wondered. George listened to the rest of the radio broadcast fearing the worst. At the end of the broadcast the announcer urged everyone to stay indoors and let the National Guard deal with the impending crisis. George, weary of his mother’s eternal optimism has to call his best friend Charlie. Charlie was much more popular than George; he always had a girl on his arm and was even captain of the high school football team. Charlie answered the phone, “hey George, have you heard what’s on the news?” “Yeah that’s why I called, what do you think it is?” George replied with a faltering tone. “Everyone on the news says it’s a bunch of aliens.” “Have any of the spaceships come down yet?” “Yeah like three and every time one does the news reporter in that area won’t respond anymore and the video goes dead, the people on TV say it must be technical difficulties.” “I don’t know about all this Charlie.” After an uncomfortable silence, George and Charlie said their goodbyes and hung up. Seeking refuge from all this weirdness George wandered outside to find his neighbor staring at the sky. George looked up to find a second sun barreling down toward earth, seemingly straight at him! The object sets George into a trance, only to be broken by the squeal of an air raid siren. George dashes to his basement seeking protection from the coming apocalypse. The ground was shaking with the fury of an earthquake that lasted seemingly forever. Even in the basement George could see flashes of light as the town around him was literally turned into a cloud of ash. The only thing keeping George from disintegrating was a layer of dirt and cinderblocks. A mushroom cloud 10 times the size of Hiroshima engulfed Georges little town in Texas… Russian missile technology has advanced a long way from world war two.

Travis Schade

The Fallen It was a warm yet dewy spring morning when Timmy heard the news. At that moment he was told of the tragedy about to hit close to his heart and home. Timmy’s beloved tree house was soon to be a thing of the past. He and his father both constructed this tree house, leaving it as one of Timmy’s fond memories of the past. It sat deep in his backyard where moss grew, plants thrived and birds chirped. This destination was the perfect spot for Timmy to grow up and learn how nature flowed throughout the earth and how easily it is to live with nature at the same time. At least this happened to be his father’s plan until tragically about a year after this tree house became complete Timmy was faced with the feeling of emptiness, as if something important would be missing in his life from this moment on. Timmy’s tree house, stood there in his backyard to be demolished, for his mother had to cut some corners and make some deals to make a little dough. Timmy sat there in the wood stained chair staring blankly at his furious mother. “Timmy I know the tree house is a great memory but sometimes its better off forgetting about some things,” his mother said. “I can’t believe you! How could you just allow them to tear down my tree house like it’s a thing of the past?” said Timmy. “I know it’s a fond memory of yours Timmy and it’s a fond memory of mine to but sometimes we all just need to move on,” said his mother. “Move on? Move on? That’s what you want me to do?” Timmy yelled. “Yes Timmy, there is a time for everything,” his mother said. Timmy then remembered how this all happened. See his mother was a high regarded inventor, at the time of the economic crisis and the fact that she was now a widower times were tough. It didn’t seem fair that was the thing she would sacrifice, it wasn’t her’s how could she? “I’m not letting them do it,” Timmy said. “What?” exclaimed his mother. “You heard me, forget about it!” yelled Timmy. It was at this time the sound of engines roared in the distance, men yelling, whistles blowing, branches crackling. Timmy knew something needed to be done, something to stop this tragedy from even taking place. He stood barefoot on the tall grass, gnats worrying above his head, as the two worker men, of the construction company, stood surveying the situation. One of the men got a chainsaw out of the back of their pickup truck, firing it up with fury as if he the construction worker was killing his deceased father. This man, the construction worker was pure evil to Timmy, The grim reaper. Timmy knew of a bee’s nest in a nearby tree, and was tempted to knock it onto the man, but it seemed of to much a risk, Then out of nowhere there stood Dexter, his imaginary friend. Dexter told Timmy he would handle the chainsaw man, and to go buy sometime. “Excuse me, mister, but I want to ask if you can not cut down that tree,” said Timmy. “Sorry kid, but I’m working for your mom,” said the worker. “I can pay you to not cut it down. I have savings,” said Timmy. The man chuckled at this idea. He knew no kid could pay him enough. “Sir you don’t understand my father helped me build the tree house from scratch up there in the tree you are about to destroy,” exclaimed Timmy. “What do I care about some stupid tree house you and your dad built kid? You’re mom wanted me to cut it down so it’s coming down! Now scram!” yelled the worker. This was the moment Timmy remembered the warm morning his father showed him the building plans. How he held Timmy up to pick out the most perfect tree in the forest. Timmy has never smiled as big and brightly as he did at that moment, it was then he felt a connection with his father, side by side like to best friends on a mission. “Hey dad?” said Timmy. “Yes?” said his father. “What’s going to happen when you are as old as grandpa?” said Timmy. “Well what do you mean?” said his father. “Well will I still be living here? Because I don’t really want to ever leave,” said Timmy. “Son you’re to young to be worrying about these things, but don’t worrying we are going to be together for a very long time to come,” his father said. He then helped Timmy up the hand built ladder to show him the finished tree house. Timmy cringed and saw his dad was just as excited to, his father then looked shocked and all Timmy could here were chainsaws buzzing, and people yelling. He awoke and remembered where he was, and the sights he was about to witness. “Hey kid get out of the way!” said the worker. “Timber!” yelled another worker. Timmy was helpless in the situation, he had to get away and get away quick he couldn’t take seeing the tree house torn down. He heard the crack of the tree ripple through the forest. As he looked his heart like the tree split in two falling as if nothing would ever be the same again. He ran and ran and never looked back again.

Jacqueline Gonzalez

DYLAN’S PAST People were pushing to go through the door to finally get out of a long twohour class. Students were in a hurry with their backpacks and books. Some walking fast looking at the floor, others slowly walking talking to their friends. Students voices and doors shutting sounds were all over the place. Then I hardly heard. “Hey Dylan wait!” I turned around and it was Landon, my friend “Maria and John told me something about you and your family. I’m sorry dude that’s messed up,” he said. I was shocked, my heart stopped for a moment. “What do you mean? I don’t know what are you talking about” I said. I knew what he was about to say but I had to make sure. I walked faster and my heart started pumping faster too. I didn’t want to hear it. “About…you know…your mom and your father” he said quietly looking down. I was burning inside, that was something personal, something I have never like to talk about. No one knew about it but my family: my mom, my little sister, and me. I was still confused. I didn’t know how much he knew. Walking faster I said, “I don’t know what are you talking about, but I got to go,” I said all. I didn’t look at him, not even once. The tempature increased as he kept talking, I was sweating, I was scared, I was scared, I was upset. “No wait! Man I’m sorry. I was just trying to …I don’t know...I just hope that idiot is in jail,” he said. At that moment I felt relief, it was a good thing, he didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t know the worst part. “Where did you get that from? You are tripping ” I said. “It doesn’t matter” He said looking away, than he looked at me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry I am not going to say anything, I just wanted you know that you can talk to me about it. I am your friend, However I have to confess that I am a little mad that you didn’t share this with me before, I mean I know you since 6 th grated, but you know what? Never mind I understand. It’s nor something easy to talk about.” The bell rang. I took his hand off my shoulder and I said, “You are crazy, Stop saying BS, plus I don’t have to tell you anything. My business are my business, so stay out of it,” and I walked away. I heard his voice again yelling my name but I just ignored him. When I was walking towards my English class the noises of people talking started to slowly disappear after every door shut. Everyone was in class. But in my mind I started to hear voices getting louder and louder telling me how the real story was, telling me every single detail of those day and that last day I saw my father. Images were all over my mind too. Him beating my mom up, my mom on the floor crying, my sister crying, me standing there, just watching, those were he images following me. Landon just knew about my father mistreating my mom but what he didn’t know was how my father’s white shirt started to slowly turn red one night when my mom stab him with the kitchen knife. That was the last time my dad put a hand on my mom. That was the sslast time she cried. That was the last time we saw him. That was his very last night.

Kaley Swalwell

Untitled

The heavy footsteps echoed in my ear. I knew someone had been following me, but was too scared to look back. I can feel the tension rising up through my body, the intensity taking over me, with the weakness filling in my knees. I knew I shouldn’t have walked through Central Park by myself. The person was getting closer. So I turned around. “Molly is that you?” said the man. He was in raggedy clothes, had long hair, and smelt like onions. All of a sudden I remembered the smell. “You worked with my Dad.” I said. “You’re right I did and now you’re coming with me, because your Dad owes me money,” said the man furiously. “I haven’t seen him in years, please don’t do this!” I screamed. He grabbed my backpack dragging me, I tried to fight back but his strength took over me. Trying to scream, but my mouth was covered in duck tape. I could feel my feet digging into the grass leaving marks. I was then in his van. “Cooperate with me, or I’ll kill your father, do we have that clear?” he said. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I didn’t know what to do. My body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Please just let me go!” I cried. The next thing I knew I was locked in a room, with no way out. The only door in the room was padlocked, I felt myself getting dizzier and dizzier. I knew I needed water. I was tied up, the guy was watching T.V. next thing I see is my face plastered on the T.V. with my Mom talking about how I’m missing. I started to scream and cry. “I know whoever took my daughter has connections to my ex husband, please return my daughter, that’s all I want, don’t get her involved in whatever problems he’s caused, she’s only thirteen, she needs to be home and safe with me,” cried my Mom over the T.V. “My daughter needs to be home and safe,” mumbled the man. The man sat there relaxed back in a chair, in a thoughtful look. He started coming towards me. I getting scared he was going to hurt me. “Shut up with your crying, I’m sick of it, the more you cry the longer it is until you get to see your Mommy,” he exclaimed. The tape was off my mouth. “If you cooperate with what I tell you to do, you will be returned home, if you fail to cooperate, I will make you and your familys’ life hell, and will find you. I’m going to take you back to Central Park, your going to go home, your going to get me a check for 3 million dollars. I will find you again if you don’t come back. If you turn me in, I will find you before police find me. I want that check back to the park by 3 o’clock sharp tomorrow, you will bring the check alone, got it?” he said sternly. I tried to calm down to speak. I didn’t know what to do. “OK,” I said. “Molly, I will find you if you fail to follow any part of this. I will find you again, and torture your family until I get that money,” he said. “OK, drop me off in the park, just take me there, I’ll get your money so this can be over with,” I said. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said. We got in the van. My body still full of tension, I don’t think my legs have ever felt so weak in my life. We were almost to the park. I was terrified of what could happen if I didn’t listen to him. I knew he wasn’t afraid to hurt me. We arrived to the park. I started to step out of the van. “Remember what I said. I’ll be waiting here. Return with the 3 million.” “OK,” that’s all I could say. I started running. I don’t think I’ve ever ran so fast in my life, I was breathing hard and had never wanted to be home more in my life than now. I finally saw my house, slammed open the gate, and pushed open the door. “MOM!!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Molly??? Molly, is that you?” “Mom it’s me,” I ran into her arms. She couldn’t stop crying. I felt so relived. “Mom, listen to me. This is serious. Dad got into some trouble. This man, he took me, because Dad hasn’t paid this guy the money. You can’t tell the police, please just let me pay him, and we won’t have problems, please Mom, he threatened to ruin our lives. We just need to pay it off and be done with it. Please Mom, just listen to what I’m saying.” I don’t think I’ve ever begged for anything more in my life. “Honey listen to me, the man that did this needs to be punished.” “No mom!” I screamed. “Please just listen to me, follow my directions, I just want this over with please, if we pay him we have nothing more to worry about,” I said. “No, this is not OK we have nothing to do with your father and his debts. We don’t even associate with him anymore how is this our problem, how is it that we’re the ones always held accountable for his actions, I’m done with that. I’m calling the Police and their going to be undercover so they can catch the man that took you. You were kidnapped, taken away from me, and the only way I’m going to know your safe is if the man that did this is caught and put away,” said my Mom as she started crying again. I knew the things my dad had gotten involved with got to her more than anything and couldn’t imagine how this one affected her. I was couldn’t express how happy I was to be home, I couldn’t wait for it to all be over. I walked to the park with a fake check for the man, soon my Mom and the Police would be jumping out of their undercover cars and arresting the man. I saw the van and started walking towards it. The man rolled down his window. “Here, here is the check for 3 million now leave me and my family alone!” I yelled. I turned around and started running, police started jumping out of their cars everywhere with guns held, the man surrendered and was arrested. I ran into my Moms arms, and couldn’t let go. “Molly, lets go home,” She cried.

Thea Twomey

Untitled **BUZZZ** Cassie’s phone vibrated across the counter. She checked the text, expecting it to be her best friend, Veronica, saying she was on her way over. It was weird that she hadn’t heard from her since early last night. Cassie was in the kitchen making her brother his lunch. A bunch of different cut up food so that he wouldn’t choke. Those were her mother’s orders. Cassie hears her younger brother Aiden hollering and banging on something in the other room. He’s four years old, shouldn’t he have grown out of the terrible twos by now? Cassie thought to herself. She walked into the dining room to find Aiden pounding his miniature sized fork on his miniature sized plate. “Here,” Cassie said. Practically throwing the bite sized pieces of food on his plate. She was thinking about all the other things she could be doing right now. It was a Friday night, she had plans but yet she was stuck at home babysitting. “Sissy,” Aiden called. “What?” she answered back. “Can I have more juice?” “Oh of course you can,” she said as she rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen. “When is mommy coming home,” he wined. “I don’t know, hopefully soon, ” Cassie snapped back. She was trying her hardest to pay attention to her brother but ever since earlier she couldn’t take her mind off of why Veronica hadn’t called. Most people would think that Cassie was making a big deal out of nothing. Veronica was probably busy doing something or maybe she was still asleep or even just hadn’t gotten around to texting her yet. Right? Still, Cassie knew Veronica better then this, something wasn’t right. “Maybe I should just call,” she thought out loud. Cassie dialed the number she’d known by heart since the 7 th grade. No Answer. Maybe she’s trying to call me. She thought to herself this time. So she quickly hung up and called again. Still, no answer. “Can I watch Veggie Tales?” Aiden asked from the other room. “Yeah just give me a minute,” Cassie said. She was puzzled as to why Veronica wasn’t answering. She walked into the living room and plugged in the movie. Then she sat Aiden down on the couch, covered him in his favorite blanket, and told him to stay there until the movie was over. Hopefully by then he’d be asleep. “I’m cleaning the downstairs, I’ll be back to check on you,” she said. Cassie rushed downstairs and grabbed the house phone instead this time. She called Veronica one more time. Again, no answer. She told herself she wouldn’t call again until later. To take her mind off of it she did what she usually would do; turned on her music and started cleaning and organizing her room. It seemed to make the time go by faster. Cassie had decided to call Veronica one more time. She was convinced that by now Veronica would answer. The phone started ringing but still no answer. I’m done waiting, Cassie decided. She proceeded to call Veronica’s house phone but no one answered that either. This was highly unusual. To be honest it kind of freaked her out, she knew that something wasn’t quite right. A few seconds later Cassie’s phone rang. She sprung from her place on the floor and leaped to where her phone had been charging. It was Veronica! As fast as Cassie could, she slid the phone open and answered before it even had a chance to ring twice. “Hello,” Cassie answered. “Hi,” Veronica said slowly. “Where have you been, why haven’t you called. Wait what’s wrong?” The questions just poured out. “I have to tell you something.” “Okay, then tell me,” Cassie said hesitantly. “I don’t know how to say it so I’ll just say it, I’m moving.” “Why? When? Where?” “I can’t really talk about it now, my dad doesn’t want people knowing. But long story short my brother messed things up this time, so we all have to go.” “I can’t believe it,” Cassie replied. She was speechless. “Yeah, me either.” Cassie heard Veronica’s dad shouting in the background. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you as soon as I can,” Veronica stuttered. “Okay then, I’ll talk to you later,” Cassie said. They both said goodbye and hung up. Cassie didn’t know what to feel. Whether to be sad or mad, maybe even both. So many thoughts were running through her head, she couldn’t sort them all out. It was just a blur. She was confused and still in a bit of a shock. All Cassie wanted right then was an explanation. She wondered why; what could her brother have done that was so bad that they all had to move. Unsure of what to do with herself Cassie went upstairs to check on her brother. Every stair she went up her feet got heavier and heavier. All she could think about was what had just happened and she kept letting her mind wander. She was imagining all the possibilities; why Veronica had to move, when she could talk to her again, and if or when she would see her again. Cassie couldn’t focus on anything else. “I can’t believe this,” Cassie said out loud. She reached the top of the stairs, walked to the living room, and peered over the edge of the couch. Aiden was fast asleep. Just then she heard the gravel in the driveway crunch. Her mom was home. Finally.

Zoë Van Fossen

Untitled I was determined. I knew these people were convinced that I was just another patient, another insane one. But I was determined. I knew what would become of the world but there was no way these people would understand. Their ignorance made me sick. If it weren’t for the leather straps holding me down to the table, I would have been on the move, little did they know, to save their lives. “You think I’m lying now, but you’re all dead. All of you,” I said, writhing beneath the arms of several nurses dressed in white. “You’re all dead,” I said again. “Each and every one of you!” “You have to calm down Karen,” said the doctor. The doctor had the kind of personality that I despised. He was arrogant, and always spoke in an grey, monotone voice. “We are trying to help you, but we can’t if you don’t cooperate,” he said. “If you keep struggling you’ll never get off this table. Resistance is useless.” “That’s right,” I said, quieter than before, but still squirming. “Resistance is useless, you stupid man. None of you will listen, a nuclear war is in the making and you’re all worried about one woman’s mental health. When it comes you’ll be a lot more worried about your own health, and you’ll all wish you would have just listened to that crazy lady from the psycho ward.” “Now now, no one here thinks you’re crazy,” said the doctor. “We’re only trying to help you calm down and think clearly. There is no nuclear war afoot, and we can all ensure you that you’re son is quite safe from any harm.” The man was quite wrong. My son was not safe from harm, nor was anyone else living in the western hemisphere. I knew very well that no one would believe me, especially within the ward. I knew that I had to escape before my son was taken, or worse. I stopped struggling for a moment. The nurses were putting less pressure on my arms and legs. If I could be transported back to my cell I could escape along the way. It only took two nurses to escort me to my cell, and pretending to be sedated was the most childish escape plan in the book, but it had to be done.

“Look,” I said, holding in my anger and anticipation. “The government is going to develop a new kind of weapon.” “A new kind of weapon?” asked the doctor. “And what might that be?” “A nuclear weapon,” I said for what had seemed like the tenth time that evening. “A bomb, probably a thousand times the size as Hiroshima. With enough power to cover most of this continent and likely more.” “I see,” he said. “And how do you know about this? This bomb? Who told you about all of this?” “I told you,” I said, through gritted teeth. The nurses would not let go of my limbs. “I told you James came from the future. The year twentynineteen. He is a soldier of the war, a rebel, part of the resistance. He came from the future to warn me, to warn all of you of this. My son is the only one who can stop this from happening, you have to understand. James is dead and they’re after my son. I need to find my son and you have to let me go!” “Listen to your doctors, Karen,” he said, still with that flat tone of voice. “No one is out to hurt your son, and there is no possible way one could travel through time. Our own government is not planning on annihilating the entire continent. What that man told you was a lie; we don’t have the technology or knowledge to create this sort of weapon, and no one is in danger” “That’s what you people don’t understand,” I interrupted. “We don’t have the technology or knowledge, yet . The United States government doesn’t plan on obliterating every human soul on this side of the planet, but the minds of men are easily corrupted!” “Take her back to the room,” said the doctor. “I don’t need anymore from her.” I pretended to give in. I complied with the assistants as I was unhooked from the metal table and placed into a wheel chair. My head hung low and my hair fell in front of my face. I could feel myself moving backwards out of the white room and into the tiled hall. My arms sat limply on the armrests of the chair as one nurse walked beside me, while the other pushed. We rounded a corner and halted outside the door of my cell. The nurse who had been pushing my chair stepped around me to unlock the heavy metal door. Quickly and undetected, I snatched the sedative out of the other nurses pocket. Before she could react, I stood up and jammed the needle into the nurse’s shoulder. Shocked, she held the needle and silently fell to the floor. As the other nurse wheeled around to grab me, I shoved the chair towards her and she fell back into the cell. I kicked the door closed, and I ran.

Jared Warren

Untitled

I was driving; ash flying through the air. A deer shot out into the road, a stupid one that was lucky enough to have made it as far as he had in life. My car’s metal body slammed into him. The world shook. There he went, rolling down the street like a boulder. And there I was, blacked out for a few moments and staring into a deflated air bag. Soon a wave overcame me and I managed to look up. A little down the road antlers poked up from behind the cover of the hill. Everything was still blurry. Soon I was able to pry the door open. My arm flopped out the door and rested on some broken glass, but I didn’t acknowledge it at the time. Dragging myself out of the mess of glass and steel my knees also began to bleed. Beyond the road, about half of a foot there was a yellow sign acting as a beacon. “If I could make it there I would be safe.” The guard rail entrapped me like a net, but I just needed to sit with my back upon it and watch the road. The road was important. Waiting for help would take an eternity but at least I could admire the crash. The car didn’t look bad at all. Not for how I turned out. Most of the windows and mirrors were destroyed, but the body of the car was still intact. There lied the beast, the giant buck. His antlers probably came close to penetrating my skull. With great sadness I studied a magnificent creature as he died. As his heartbeats grew fainter mine did as well, mimicking laughter that could no longer be sustained. “My mind is a battlefield; I have to fight to stay alive.” “I am a soldier. No an officer. I am to be tortured if I am caught alive.” But I was already enduring the torture. Pain moved through every nerve in my body, my head was a cesspool of fire. At that point I would have killed myself. Ended the torture and offered myself up to death rather than to the enemy. Unfortunately there was nothing I could use. Man is useless without tools. It was to my understanding that a soldier always kept a loaded pistol that would never to be turned upon the enemy, only upon himself or his comrades in a time of dire needs. “During times like I now,” I thought. In my mind I was always destined to be a soldier, a freedom fighter of sorts. “Only one enemy, tyranny.” A nifty motto indeed. The warriors of freedom could always inspire awe, although they are typically forgotten during times of servitude. Washington, Jefferson, swarms of the first guerilla soldiers of the era. Separating from the crown and gouging at the arm of an empire built upon the slavery of nations and men. Spanish forces, defending against fascism. Reds, anarchists, republicans, Gypsies, anyone with a mind and a gun. All with one common ideology; antifascism. So, “Why didn’t I have a damn gun?” An ambulance began lighting the night sky and filling the nocturnal woods with a barrage of synthesized sounds. “Is it friendly? One of them has to have a cigarette. For God’s sake if they want to help me they will find me a cigarette. And if they don’t want to help me they can show a little mercy before I am sent to die, they can let me die an addict without symptoms; I will forgive them for whatever they do to people like me.” The ambulance is forced to stop before getting near me, something about a giant carcass strewn out like a rug on the pavement. All of the confusion was funny. Once I was packed into the van I finally gave up. They tried to keep me alive. I must have slept and awoke countless times but only recently did I get my memory back. Now I’m in a hospital room. Paintings and Murals dedicated to the Goddess Flora decorate the room. The only mentionable things are a pack of cigarettes, matches, and a window that will soon become a shrine to my death.

Chi la

EX LOVERS Melvin stumbled his way across many "excuse me" toward the a few too many stacks of full packs of cold beer piled up and cold sweats running down the bottles crawling outside and soak into the paper box. Somewhere in his head, emotions twisting with the annoying rings of things being rings up at the register. His feet are trying to drag his restless body along the isle to his last destination of store; the cereals and ready to eat meals. There, like a blinded horse, the picture perfect tattooed angel hand of his automatically reached out for a cup of noodle. Well, like yours usual at star bucks, cup noodle and cold beers is what he’s surviving on beside the sour of life. "Melvin!" a soft voice stumbled across with his daydreaming thoughts and the slow classic jam of the grocery store, gravitated him back into reality. "Oh hey..." He said, as he turned around and eyed pass the isle where no one else to be found but a smile sparks on this petite figure. He knows for sure that he have seen that stimulating and contagious smile somewhere but his eyesight didn't let him clearly figure who the owner of such happiness. "Hi! Claire! How are you? It's been ages since...the last time I see you" They stared at each other for a quick seconds without saying a word, both trying to take in what’s best and worse of life has absorbs into the changes of each other for the past two years. “Oh, come here,” Said Melvin as he wrapped his arm around Claire. “I see you're still on yours regular for the daily" said Claire with that very same smile that he been holding on in his memory since the last time. "Well, before you came into my life and after you left," with a heavy sign, he continue," you know I don't really cook, at least not when we aren't doing it together like..." "So how's life, how are things?" Claire cut him short before he finish the rerun of their past relationship. "I'm just fine, doing my last couple years of college and staying alive...and missing you." “That’s great! I’m on my 3 rd year! Remember the feeling of so close to graduation during senior year in high school? The excitement is quite similar.” “Yeah, high school seemed so far back, I guess things have been moving way too fast.” “Maybe you should slow it down and take a little time off then?” “Then I will just be behind, I mean I already am behind, it’s more like I should double my pace.” He shrugged as he swallow his pity of this world is being a little bit too cold against his emotions. “You haven’t changed since; please don’t be too harsh against yourself.” “I’m glad that you’re still care,” Said Melvin. “That was my promise no matters what happens to us remember?” “Yeah, those promise...,” the conversation paused as old memories racing back. “Why is it always about me? Catch me up with your life.” Melvin feels like he needs to break the silence. “Well beside school and teaching drum classes to keep me grounded, there isn’t anything much going on,” She glared passed him and continued, “ I’m just trying to figure things out and see what’s my heart wants, you know?” “Yeah?” “Yeah, I was engaged last year. As you know my mom’s health condition…” “So you get ENGAGED?! Just because she always wanted to see you in the damn wedding dress?” He forced his temper pressure against his beer, which is covering with warm sweat and his body heat. “Well, everything got canceled.” “Claire, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on you. All I want is to see you happy. You deserve all the happiness that you give and more,” He took a deep breath as he continued. “I really miss you, I know we lost all the contacts, I thought I could forget about you that way, but It’s hurts me just to think about letting it go.” "Hmmm...,"Claire seems to be studying Melvin's reflection on the tile floor. "I miss you too," she quickly glances up at his eyes then back down, this time at both of their reflection. “Well, I know its Thanksgiving, you’re probably on your way to some last minute grocery. Shall we catch up later this weekend or so?” “Actually…, I moved to New York a while back, I’m only in town ‘till tomorrow morning…” Claire hesitates as if she wanted to give him a better answer. “So you’re just here for the holiday dinner with the fam?” His heart filled with disappointments. He feels as if there’s a rock weighting him down, the rock that getting in his way too many times in this relationship. “Not exactly, well my mom just passed away a couple nights ago,” Claire mumbled. “I’m only here for her funeral earlier this morning…” She looked up and tried to lift up her lips but that smile wasn’t the same, it didn’t make Melvin’s heart smiles like it always did. “I am so sorry. I know how much she means to you. I really don’t know what else to say, I’m here whenever you need a shoulder.” Melvin wasn’t prepare to deal with such shock, he wants to heals her pain, but he doesn’t quite know how this time.

Abel Tefera

Untitled It was Saturday, but not the usual Saturdays for BB. It was the first day for BB’s vacation. The plan was to go to his relative’s house to make a record and hopefully show it to the publishers. While thinking about this, sleeping in the bed BB hears his brothers fighting. “No I’m going with him,” says one of the brothers. “No he’s taking me,” says the other brother. Entering the room, seeing his brothers arguing and yelling gave BB a morning headache. Usually he lives the disciplining to his dad, but he was at work so he has to be the bad cap today. “What is all the noise about?” asks BB. “Well you told me I can go with you to L.A. right?” says one of his brothers. “No he said I can go with him, because I’m the oldest,” interrupts the other brother. “Who said both of you can’t go?” says BB. “As long as you guys are packed and have permission from dad you can come with me,” says BB. “Oh come on, you know dad won’t let as go if we ask!!” answers one of the brothers. “So you expect me to take you guys without telling dad?” asks BB. “I don’t know, but what I do know is he will defiantly say no,” says oldest brother. “I tell you what?” says BB. “What?” asks the younger brother with excitement. “I will take you any where you guys want to go during your summer break,” says BB. “allright, I guess.” Both brothers agree. After resolving that conflict BB went to the kitchen, looking at all the dirty dishes pilled on top of each other while looking for the phone to call up his buddy. “Whose turn is it to wash the dishes?” asks BB Every body starts arguing about how it wasn’t there turn so BB orders all of them to participate in cleaning up the mess. Finally finding the phone he dials Ray’s number to ask him if he’s packed to roll out. Ring, ring, ring. “Hello,” answers Ray. “What’s up,” replies BB. “What’s up men, are you packed,” asks Ray. “Yeah men lets roll out,” say BB. After finishing the call BB goes to dress up and enters his car to pick up Ray. While heading to Ray’s house he noticed his Break light was on. Thinking it was nothing BB ignores it and continues heading to the destination. Arriving to Ray’s house to find his homie standing out side with his suitcase seating next to him. BB pulls over and pops the trunk, Ray throws his suitcase and enters the car with excitement that immediately filled the whole car. “Yeah men we are going to L.A,” Ray yells out. “I don’t know if I’m coming back dude,” says Ray. “I can see you are very excited about this,” says BB “Hell yeah man, you should be to our dreams of being an artist is finally about to come true,” says Ray. “Don’t get me wrong I am, it’s just you are acting like a kid in a candy store,” says BB. After about 3 hours of drive they are finally about to exit Washington. Soon they were out in the urban area where it was a straight road and no car at all so BB presses the gas pedal to find their selves going more than 90mph. “Who hoo, faster” says Ray with excitement of the speed making his heartbeat faster and faster. Pretty soon a view of a city came on and BB try to break but seemed the car kept going faster and fast. Knowing they were in trouble BB preys and before he knew it his car crashed headon with a tree. Automatically killing BB and Ray.

Ms. Etter Period 1

Table of Contents

Malika Abdou Larka Angell Tim Biddick Anya Bychkova Janell Coe Natalia Coffee Emily Dodd Sana Farooqi Alexander Gordon-Sandweiss Russel Groves Cory Henderson Scott H. Joshua Howland Michelle Hur Hazel Lallemand Nathan Laviste Shalee Murphy Naomi Peterson Zahrah Qadir Gabrielle Richmond Evan Saunders Jake Scherf Rachel Sullivan Susan Tsegai Lydia Vanderburg Nathan Winningham Lucia Wyss

Malika Abdou

Cups of Tea

The harsh winter breeze bit the small cracks of my exposed skin. I could feel my heart straining to push blood through my nearly frozen veins. Fresh snowflakes were falling along the hills past the city, the sun’s glow creating an iridescent palate of copious colors, changing with every step I took. I missed the old sun in Dijon, it was always so nice in the winter. Maman would always have my worn blue gloves and matching knit hat waiting for me beside the front door before Kiri and I went out to play… I rubbed my naked hands together, drew them to my lips and blew out a puff of my steamy, compressed, warm air. As I passed by the shops along the corner of Moutard Avenue I couldn't help but smile at all the petite boys gaping at the displayed candies in the windows of La Bonbonerie, a dainty little shop run by an old lady. The next was a small winery, La Viniarde… the brick exterior and extravagantly detailed sign. I've never entered that store; I was never too fond of alcoholic beverages, the taste always stinging the back of my throat and causing my eyes to burn. This proves to be a slight problem here in Paris, but it's not the end of the world, although it might seem like it to les Parisian. I saw the corner of my apartment building reflecting sunlight off the revolving glass door. As if it was excitedly waiting for my return. I know I've been waiting to return to it . "Oh merde ..." I focused my eyes on le petite Madame LeBlanc attempting to exit the doorway with a small portion of her dress hooked in the door hinge. She was tugging furiously from the top of her elegantly long burgundy dress to pry it loose for the doors hungry jaws. "Let me help you Madame," I gently pranced forward and placed my satchel on the ground beside her left foot, I worked my fingers under the door and behind the fabric, pushing it out from underneath. "This happens to me toute le temps! But my cher Irene, you are always here to save the day aren't you! Merci beaucoup dear child,” she said as she kissed the top of my forehead. “Mais …What are you doing out on such a day like this, terrible terrible weather. This cold, non non this is not for me! And where are your mittens!? Are you folle ?! Especially around this time of year… You young girls have no common sense. I swear it must be in the water! You should really think of making some, Paris becomes the coldest place I've ever been to around this time of year…” "This is the only place you've ever been, Madame," I said with a silly smile as she took my hand and warmed it between her own. “ Merci .” "Ah , Irene. You are a saucy young girl. Are you still working for that wretched designer down the street?" She said with a sneer. I knew she couldn't stand Coco's work. It was a whole revolution waiting to be discovered. The women in my building were very traditional; the trend would never be appreciated in their generation. "You know, Madame, if you took some time to look around the shop, I'm sure you would find it most interesting. We have a new line of shorter dresses that I'm sure you would find useful if you're sick of getting your robe caught in the door." "Ah, mes non ! Never in a million years! I would rather have my dress caught in every door I walk through then set one foot in that store. My mother taught me things you children obviously haven't picked up yet. Where has the world come to!? Indecency, women dressing like men! Oh dieu , my head is feeling light. I should sit down." "Madame, I suggest you don't sit on the snow, that fabric can be ruined when touched by too much water and not dried off immediately." "Oh oui , you're right. I guess all this modern talk is making me feel a tad queasy," she exclaimed, holding one of my arms for support and using the other to fan her face off. I found the fanning rather amusing; it was in fact 30 degrees outside. "Would you like me to walk you back upstairs to your chambre ? Perhaps, call your husband?" "Don't be foolish young child, this heart has beat through the reins of Les Bonepart , and I can assure you a little slip won't shake my steel bones anymore than the new generation’s tendency to destroy what we have left in our wake. That is all ma petite, take care of yourself." She released my arm and in a small turn of the heel spun once around. “So are you going to take me up to your room dear child, I could use a nice cup of tea.” “Oh yes of course!” I struggled with the revolving door, helped her mount the stairs in a stride she seemed to find unimaginable. Once we reached my rather petite apartment I pulled out and chair and immediately started brewing the tea. I just got home and wanted to relax, there was no need for her to stay long, I’m sure. Madame Leblanc sat and scoured the room with her eyes. Searching every nook and cranny like a starving hawk looking for prey. I double checked out of the corner of my eye I didn’t leave the bed unmade, or my undergarments hanging around on the chairs. Suddenly my eyes laid upon a nice lavender pleated summer dress I was working on with Coco for her upcoming spring collection. I prayed Madame LeBlanc would not make a fuss if she were to spot it out “Well, well, well ma Cherie , look at this! A dress by Coco herself! Hmm, maybe I take a look?” Was I going to be rude? Of course not! “ Oui of course let me help you” I walked across the room and picked the supple fabric off the chair and rubbed it between my forefinger and middle. “ Voila” “Ah, well, I hate to admit but this isn’t as bad as I would have thought. Are you designing it yourself?” She chuckled and shook it slightly to shake out the ruffles on the bottom. ”Oui” I blushed and rubbed the front of my shoes together. Madame stalled a few seconds longer. I watched her analyze every stick and marvel the intricate lacing I had spent hours to create perfectly. “Enough of these things let us get back to tea.” She placed it down gently and glided back to the table, took a seat as I poured the fresh tea into her cup.

Larka Angell Bish Bash “Slipnot, don’t eat those yet!” said Adrien as he set the groceries, four of the seventeen “paper or plastic?” paper bags on the slab of linoleum that served as a kitchen table. They had a small place on a drab city corner, a thick walled, smutty space that they had done their best to keep clean and furnished with bits of mismatched furniture and “well placed” bare light bulbs. Slipnot pursed his lips guiltily, and opened and closed his one, brilliant eye. He had ravaged the thin plastic of a bag of snap peas, preparing to crunch and savor its thin grace. Adrien hated this, and he couldn’t for the life of him account for it. It was just a matter of business before pleasure. “Grains, fruits, vegetables, proteins, probiotics, glutens, dairy” Adrien counted through a few bags, “Chocolate–” “I still don’t know about that probiotic stuff,” said Slipnot dolefully, still embarrassed about the snow pea thing, as he held up a carton of strawberry kefir. “It’s got parasites in, doesn’t it?” “They’re beneficial. My mum drinks it.” Adrien said. Slipnot blinked, coupling it with a healthy nod as he always does. They’d been living together for over five years now. They had a routine going, a post box, a place in the phone book – “Adrien Hipthson, Steven Slipnot, 132 Symplewood RD 20344” and a cat called Pifton, much to their landlady’s chagrin. Well, much to her potential chagrin as they’d kept Pifton secret for the three years they had had him. Symplewood Apartments didn’t allow pets of any kind; they’re not good for the carpets you know. “She’s angry with me you know…” Adrien said after a while. “Who?” “My mum you dolt.” Slipnot ignored this slight “Well what’ve you done this time?” he asked. “She doesn’t like Tilly!” For that matter, neither did Slipnot. Tilly was a fatuous sliver of a girl, with perfect fringe and small brown eyes, who liked caftans and jelly sandals. She had an odd fascination with the hulking Slipnot, and whenever she came over, she followed him around and tried to make him wear anklets and accept beeswax lumps that she called candles. “She’s just a boheem! Christ, Mum has never been a conformist, why should she start now? Why is she so disapproving?” Adrien blurted after Slipnot decided not to say anything. “I dunno…” They carried the meats, the eggs, the kefir and bell peppers to the fridge, Adrien setting the parsley on the windowsill. Slipknot always wondered why Adrien does this. It was explained to him once, something about further photosynthesis and chlorophyll conductivity. But Slipnot suspects he does it because he likes to see it there. It was just a matter of pleasure before business. The radio spat when Slipknot turned it on. Otis Redding drifted out of the black, dented, mesh of the speaker. “Ah, I love him. Wish I’d listened to that track “Stay In School” more often when I was a kid.” Slipnot’s eye crinkled with the widening of his smile “ If you didn’t go back to school this year, you’re really not groovey… ” he sang in his gravelly way. “Maybe you feel that school is a drag, it just don’t move you Yeah, and why did you leave school Slipnot? Where’d you even go to?” Adrien asked while he clumped the potatoes into a tin topped glass jar. Slipnot was an illeducated bulk of a man, but Adrien had kept house with him longer than any other roommate he’d ever had. Adrien was hard to live with, always racking up excessive grocery bills, insisting on ironing everything (on the wrong heat setting), stealing deodorant, and refusing to feed Pifton. He was the type of bustling perfectionist that has all the conviction to be so, but none of the skill. But their little stupidities and little strengths meshed well, and they lived pleasantly. “Perthdale High school, would’ve been class of 1972.” “And why’d you leave…” “Did you ever think about how square you look standing, in an employment line because school didn’t interest you? ” Slipnot finished the verse “Good point, that.” “Jesus Slipnot, just tell me why!” Adrien said laughingly. “Well, if you must know, me and the headmaster disagreed about quite a few of my extracurriculars. Thought they were terribly ‘distasteful’ especially on school grounds. And my Spanish was a far sight worse.” Pifton, the shorthaired, lightfooted grey cat padded into the room, giving a little meowl at Slipnot’s steeltoed feet. “Will you give the cat a rawhide treat, Slipnot?” Adrien said, “I’ve almost got the last of the groceries in. Then we can have a beer or two. ” “What? Cats can’t eat rawhide! What’ve you got that for?” Slipnot’s one eye widened with disapproval. “You’ll break his jawbone if you give him that!” “Phwoar! Keep your trousers on Steven Slippy, it’s just a treat!” Adrien scoffed while unpacking the shopping bags. “Well the little teeth can’t handle th–" “The ice cream! It’s probably all melted, aw, Slipnot, ah, why’d we wait til' now to unload it! It’s sorbet, it’ll be like a boulder if we refreeze it, god damn…” Aiden bellyached, distracting Slipnot and trailing off as he snatched a carton out of the last paper bag, opening it gingerly. Undeniably thawed raspberry sorbet juice clustered on the cap and fell to the ground in a single tart drip. Pifton dashed to the droplet, licked the floor clean and skipped away again. Once they’d had their beers, and all the groceries were away Adien and Slipnot settled down for the evening’s entertainment. With Pifton purring himself into a lather in Slipnot’s lap, Aiden’s prized reading glasses balancing on his straight nose, and a battered deck between them, they sat down to a rousing game of Slamwitch.

Tim Biddick

The Scar His Ring Made Work had taken a revolutionary turn toward fun in just a matter of days. It was as if the strike made every worker team with an exuberance that so pleasantly juxtaposed with previous days of laboring every one of us suffered through daily. A most unfamiliar, unified energy was swelling through the crowd as we brandished our signs and shouted our rallying remarks. About half of the crowd could speak English. The other half was left shouting aimlessly in any number of languages. I thought I heard some Polish but it had mostly been Russian and German. I later grew to understand that that was the face of the era’s poverty. Immigrants. They always got – we always got – the worst jobs with the most likelihood of being tossed around like the Government’s sack of rice. We are America’s cheapest, most abused labor force but somehow we’re translated into defining America as ‘the great melting pot’. We had the occupations that we all just accepted as the only way to get by because that is all we were told. It was uncertain whether or not the scum at the bottom of the barrel that we were forced to scrape would ever poison us enough that we would notice. I carried a sign that read ‘Fair work now’ in Polish. My brother Waldek, who is only a year and an half younger than me, carried the same. He wasn’t the most proficient reader or writer so he just free handed what I wrote on my sign. It didn’t matter how poor the message was, but just that it was being said. We rallied outside the mill, facing outward toward the street so everyone who saw us would feel what we felt. All four hundred sixtysomething residents of the town (dozens of whom were already protesting) would know within hours that production was ending until we all got what we wanted. What no brother of mine, myself included, ever thought about was that our father would also know within hours. The most twisted piece of fate about it was that none of us even considered the fact that he would be unhappy. We just wanted to tell him. We all thought he would be excited that we were fighting against the government, and at so young an age. Father would always be complaining about taxation and all the laws that prevented our family from getting more money. We were all too young to so much as consider the fact that a halt on wire production would result in an immediate lack of pay to all of us, and most importantly, our father wouldn’t be getting any of our earnings. The strike continued on through the day until twilight when the work hours ended and the elderly workers grew much to tired to continue. Naturally, all the kids wanted to keep on but there is only so much a bunch of illiterate kids who don’t speak English can do for a cause like this. All the Czolgosz kids, myself included, wanted to get home quickly to our father. Fairly exhausted, we lumbered through main street and out toward the farms where we lived. By then it was truly dark, but perhaps my memories of the night make it seem ever darker. When we finally reach the sign that read Czolgosz that marked our home, a spark grew in our heels and we hurried toward the gentle image of father’s firm but paternal pat on the back. We all whispered our excited reports of the days long strike. I was the first of the brothers to reach the house, burst through the door and find father in the sitting room with the newspaper. He was reading the first page headliner as I walked in. He looked at me with eyes so dark the lighting in the room seemed to dim. He turned and laid the front page down on the table before him. My brothers finally entered into the silence of the room. They opened their mouths as if to speak but once their eyes met our father’s it seemed as if every whisper was taken from their lips. Finally I looked to read the headline. Warrensville Wire Mill on Strike. Massive worker picket line! “Kids,” he said in Polish. His voice left cotton in our mouths. “Tell me you weren’t at this picket.” We wanted to lie, we really did. But we knew without even asking each other that father was already fully aware that we had been there. So we said nothing. Perhaps it was better that way. Silence couldn’t stop father from standing up. Silence couldn’t stop him from saying, “When you strike, kids, you don’t get paid. And when you don’t get paid, this family falls apart. Is that what you want, kids?” Silence was a futile force, but it was all we we’re left with. “Answer me dammit! Yes or no?” “No.” Waldek whispered. “Waldek.” Father kneeled down to meet Waldek’s eyes. “If you’re so good at answering my questions, answer this. If you and your bothers were so certain that your striking would result in no pay, why in the world would you insist?” Father’s tone was sarcastic and evil. Like a spider creeping up to and interrogating his prey only to just kill it anyway. Waldek began to cry. “I… I don’t…” “It was the government father!” I spoke up. “They were going to get rid of our jobs! We… we thought you would like it.” Father gave me a deathly glare. He put his palm over his face. An eternity passed. I could see his eyes open through his fingers. Then I felt the boney back of his hand whip my face. His ring leaving a cut that bled near my eye. “Don’t feed me that shit, boy!” he shouted. “I was talking to Waldek! But since you seem so eager to speak, tell me, Leon, how do you think you’re going to get money now?” “I don’t expect that we get any more money, father.” Again, another hit. This one only harder. My brothers stood by with tears welling. “Stop your crying you infants!” my eyes were shut then, still recoiling, but what I heard was to more slaps. Two devastated whimpers. A lifetime of more of fear. My eyelids refused to unseam, but shutting them tighter only made my new scar hiss louder and sharper. Father spoke again. “You three get out of my sight, this moment!” The three of us fled like housecats from a lout clatter. Scared out of our wits. Not a single one of us made eye contact with each other as we scurried to different parts of the house. I found the bathroom mirror. I found my beaming red and bloody face looking back at me with posttears eyes. I ran well water through my hands and cleaned my cut as best I could, before I placed a dab of cotton over it. I looked back at my face. My expression, dark. My father was a mad man. I was out of work. I had no place to run, but running was all I wanted to do.

Anya Bychkova

Breakfast

I ran into my kitchen, catching my breath. Pulling off my boots, I straightened out my skirt and lunged to the sink to wash my hands of the mud that would give my morning absence away to my mother. Daylight shone brightly through the thick bay windows as my fingers expertly sorted through the vast selection of cracked mugs and bent silverware, looking for three decent plates. My family was stirring upstairs, I had ten minutes at most to put bread and cheese on the table or my mother would think me a suspicious case. I didn’t want that attention. Just as I wondered how I had fallen into this pattern of everyday breakfast making, I heard a voice ask me “What are you doing?” I wheeled around, glaring into the face of the stranger in my kitchen. A tall girl with cropped hair, maybe twenty years old, was sitting at the counter by the sink. I looked down at my hands and back at her, “When did you come in? We’re closed. Actually, this isn’t even the right door.” “You should probably mark that more carefully.” “At the moment, I’m making breakfast for my family. They will be here shortly and I really would appreciate it if you left.” My courtesy was waning. Whoever this girl was, she had no right to barge in here and ask me stupid questions. She walked towards a small bookshelf and took down a book I used to read as a child. On the binding “Joan of Arc: The Virgin Warrior” was written in bold gold lettering. She pried it open, rather rudely, a stream of sunlight illuminating her face. I could see particles of flickering gold paint sprinkling down onto the floor at her feet. “Be careful with that! What the hell are you doing here?” “Language!” With the looks of such a deviant I didn’t expect her to care, “Cute book. Dumb title.” “I don’t believe a word of it,” I told her. She seemed honestly surprised. “Why not?” “Joan of Arc hears the voice of god, she saves lives, and she’s perfect in every way. The only believable aspect of the whole story is that in the end, everyone abandoned her and she died alone.” “Hmm. I just have a problem with the ‘virgin’ part. What right have they got to make such assumptions? I never said that.” She saw the look on my face before I could stop it. As previously assumed, this girl was crazy and probably homeless. I tried to keep my eyebrows down but my face still managed to convey the confusion I was feeling. I stared at her, willing her to get up and leave, but she just looked at me. Her skin was flawless but in her eyes a tired loneliness that seemed so sane that I couldn’t place it with her words or with the sound of her voice. Then, as if she could feel me assessing her, the girl shook her head and let out a brilliant laugh. She laughed till every trace of my judgmental stare had slipped from her broad shoulders, onto the dusty floor. Like a thousand tiny, luminous bells, she laughed at me. “You’ve still got time, Posy!” And she vanished, just as suddenly as she appeared. * “Posy?” It was my mother, suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you looking at? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She walked to the table “No, nothing of the sort Nanette.” I set her plate down and sat. These days, I often called ma by her name to see if she would respond. She didn’t raise a brow. “We would read that every week when you were little.” She said and pointed at the open book, not questioning a thing around her, biting into her bread. * The girl had been looking at my favorite picture. Joan was on the ground, behind her a vicious battle raged and in her hands her standard and her sword. I liked that image more than the other paintings or her. Sometimes they depicted her as a hero, crowds of people watching as she marched through the city on a black charger. Other times she was sketched helpless, dressed in white at the stake. In this one image though, she was depicted as I saw her. She looked like a person caught in battle. Not someone incapable or scared but someone brave and self assured. Not someone pompous or posing, my Joan was utterly aware of her mind and blissfully unaware of her body, frozen midlunge, her sword in the air. My Joan was ready for anything, seizing the moment, always present. She kept her thoughts stored inside her head in little boxes and she prioritized and made the right choices and never questioned fate. My Joan didn’t even think about fate, she just lived. My Joan was not me. “Where’s your sister this morning ” my mother finally decided to engage the world. “I wouldn’t know,” I wouldn’t care. “I thought she was upstairs, with you.” Maenon was my sister. Blood (and a lack of money to leave home) bound me to her. When we were younger she was quirky and sweet and as we grew she insisted more and more frequently that the world was monotonous and bitter. Mae went out most nights and came back with cash she earned on the streets. She talked about the many different ways to die with an ease and humor that disgusted and disheartened me. A part of me was grateful to her for taking on the chore of depression. Another part of me hated her for sticking me with the punishment of constant hope. My thoughts drifted to the intruder in my kitchen. “Don’t worry Nanette, I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” Seeing some worry on my mothers face was disturbing but a relief. “We have tons of things to get done.” She stared at her now empty plate, the white circle reflecting in her pale eyes. I wanted to take pity on my mother. Under her vegetable exterior I could see mind awakening, her head beginning to spin with numerous tasks unfinished and projects yet to come. This woman took the world in projects, one project at a time. I had long stopped trying to change her. We stayed out of each other’s way. My anger toward my mother was passing. “Relax,” I flashed a tired smile “we’ve got time.”

Janell Coe

Witness of JFK Assassination

I had just witnessed one of the most traumatic events in history, the JFK assassination and all I could do was stand by the street gonking. My body temperature increased about five degrees and a thick, poreclogging layer of sweat developed on my forehead. The illuminated sky went dark casting grey shadows on the cheery plaza. Elm Street just seconds ago smelt of hot coffee and wood being swarmed by a kindled fire. Now it smelled of doleful gunpowder and innocent bloodshed from a loved and obliged man. Everything was shocked still and silent as the motorcade sped away. Mary tugged on my jacket but I didn’t notice because on the far side of the grassy knoll, was a man, running. Like a robot under some sort of compulsion I trudged across the street, trying to run but my feet were like bricks and my body was covered by bulky suit of armor. The man slipped behind the worn down picket fence and as I turned the corner onto the freckled cement of the parking lot after him, he had vanished. I went to the middle of the parking lot and looked over the cars to the gravel surrounded train tracks. Although all I saw were a few wandering tramps and a train maintenance man and a decrepit abandoned freight car sitting next to a railroad. I began to regain the use of my body and started to process what had just happened but my mind instantly rejected this. As I turned to go back to Elm Street I noticed that chaos had broken out. Men and women were shrieking, darting this way and that. The police were everywhere trying to get control but it was impossible, so they grabbed as many people as possible and took them over to the police department. I glanced over my quivering shoulder and saw my awstruck friend Mary being bombarded by men in black, trying to confiscate her camera. She gazed up at them with her big tear filled blue eyes and begged, “Give it back, let me go.” As I headed down the steps on the side of the grassy knoll, I yelled, “Get away from her!” I crossed the blood sprinkled street and tugged at the men’s bulky, sturdy hands. “We really do have to go home now and need to beat traffic,” I slurred in a raised voice. The men stood unfazed and pushed nudged me aside, coaxing Mary like a reluctant puppy, saying, “It’s ok honey, you’ll be fine just give us the picture and everything will go smoothly.” Out of nowhere two men in pristine suits and tinted sunglasses came up behind me, showed me a glistening police badge and in a hushed voice one said “Your gunna have to come with us.” Without even asking they slipped there swift hands into my jacket pockets and took all the pictures Mary’s Paraloid camera had taken. “Hey,” I said, “Those are mine.” “Not anymore,” the men grumbled. I attempted to shove the men aside and reach for the pictures, but the men tucked the photos into their glossy silk insides of their suits, with ease. They grabbed me with a firm grip and one man said , “Now you’re going to have to cooperate and come with us, darling’ o there’s goin’ be trouble.” I asked why, but there was no need for them to answer because I already new the answer. They turned over to the other men surrounding Mary and barked, “Hey, bring her along too.” I was practically dragged over to the police station as the sky dimmed and police questioned everyone. People mourned and stores closed. FBI crews surrounded the Texas School Book Depository and the street was lined cautioning vibrant yellow tape. Reporters and journalists scrambled about like pesky cockroaches, quizzing frightened civilians. A short, small man came right up to the policeman firmly holding my arm and asked, “Is this the shooter? Is she going to jail? Is the girl behind her, her accomplice?” The journalist eagerly waited for the men’s response but the men holding us ignored him and plowed through the spiraling front doors of the police department. My anger festered inside of me but I knew there was nothing I could do to get away from these men. I peeked behind me to look at the man, but he was already running across the street, where a man in handcuffs was being pulled out of a building. The police department was hectic. There were people going up and down the stairs and giving orders. Glasslined offices were distributed around the first floor and you could hear phones ringing off the hook, running feet and the opening and slamming of doors. Cigar smoke filled the air, quenching my lungs. Mary and I were dragged up the large flight of stairs to the second floor of smaller more compacted and enclosed office spaces. Some of the spaces where police questioned suspects for crimes, while a group of people watched you through the walls analyzing your every answer and every move. The police took us to into a small cubical where two men with cigars peering out of their lips and hair slicked back. Like the men holding Mary and I, they were dressed in nicely ironed black suits, everything in place. One of the men was sitting at the single desk at the end of the room peering out the window and the other standing beside him. I could tell they had been at this for a long time because of the slumped shoulders of the standing man and the other sprawled in his chair. The standing man whispered something into the ear of the sitting man and he turned around and pushed himself up into an upright stature and said, “Sit down, and make yourselves comfortable!” The man sounded as if he was trying to be hospitable and kind but when I looked at his harsh, frowning face, I knew it was something entirely different. The police holding Mary and I plopped us down into two, cold and hard chairs facing the almost spotless desk. The police stood by the door like guard dogs. Mary and I exchanged a nervous, cluster phobic glance and then put our heads down, looking to the ground. My head was pounding and visions of the assassination flew before me. The man in the chair looked into my eyes and asked demandingly “How many shots did you hear.” “46,” I confidently answered. Totally disregarding Mary, he exploded forward, his veins pulsing out of his hands as he slamming them onto the end of the desk. “No you didn’t you heard three!” “The other sounds you heard were from the gunshots echoes and the motorcades popping engines.” The man’s voice put me off guard as he angrily hissed at me, almost sounding like he was trying to keep from exploding with rage. “I know what I heard,” I said. Looking at me like a pathetic crazed person he sympathetically said, “You are clearly in shock, I assure you there was only three shots and the police have found proof of only three.” “Don’t you dare tell anyone otherwise, or it will result poorly” he threatened. I sat in the chair bewildered, I had no clue what was going on, why couldn’t I tell people I had heard more then four gunshots and did even hear more than four? I opened my mouth to say something snappy back but then I realized, I was totally overpower by police and it wouldn’t be worth it to argue with the man, so I said “fine.” Hesitantly I asked, “Now can I go.” The man relaxed in his chair and leaned back and as he swirled his chair and attention back to the window, he warned me “Remember what I said!” “Lead them out.” Was he threatening me, I thought. But before I could dwell on this thought, I was abruptly grabbed from behind, pulled upward and led out of the room with Mary. The police let go of us at the top of the stairs and quietly walked back down the hall. Mary and I didn’t talk, we just softly linked arms, closing out everything that was going on around us and briskly walked around the corner towards my car.

Natalia Coffee

A Walk Through Town I carefully placed the knife a couple centimeters from the end of the carrots; I cut off all the ends to make them all perfectly clean and cut. It was really droopy outside. Like the sky could not make up its mind at how it felt. Little raindrops would fall here and there, the air was full mist but still had a warming touch through it all. I could here a small fire burning behind me. The room felt dark and empty but it was still only noon. I continued chopping the carrots paying attention to the size so that not one would feel different from the others. “Are you okay?” Gerald said. My eyes wondered for a second lost and not knowing exactly what to focus on. “Yeah I am fine.” I could tell he could sense that it was all not exactly the right word. “I think we are just about out of vegetables” I said laying the knife aside and then pushing everything together in a small mound on the table. “Is that so, well that can not be good I guess we will have to make a trip and get some more today then.” Gerald said “I can go if you want, I really don’t mind.” I was looking for any opportunity to get out. “Well since you seem so enthusiastic I don’t mind.” He told me what exactly he wanted then I ran to my room smelling the scent of horse, and hearing footsteps not to far away. They must have gone a ride then realized today was not the best to be out and about. I came to my room and grabbed my sweater off the chair by the window then ran back through the hallway back to the kitchen. “I shall you later then? Do not take long it does not look pleasant outside.” He looked at me for a second with a little but of puzzlement in his eye. I understood that he had never really had children and that was the life he had been content with but then when my parents died leaving me behind he had stepped in with, Mary his wife and raised me the best they could. Mary had made it obvious that she had not wanted any children either but there I was and I was thank full for what they had done, but I still always longed of there being someway that my parents would have not died it would have made everything so much more easier in some ways. “I’ll be back as soon as I can” I grabbed the nearest basket and went out side. It was a little colder than it had looked form the cozy kitchen, I wrapped my sweater closer to my body hoping to lock in any more heat left from inside. I walked staring at the road ahead of me and bits of dirt unsettling under my feet, it did not take long before I arrived at the nearest vendor. “Can I have some of your freshest carrots, potatoes and celery.” I looked at me like I was asking so much of him. “It is for the king.” I hated telling people that it was like the new magic words, the ticket for anything. “Oooo of course would you like me to throw in some cabbages in the mix?” “Or we also have some ripe and ready corn? Yes yes that would make some stew fir for a king?” “No really that is all I need” I held the money in my hand in front of him showing I was not going to get anything else then what I needed. “Fine, fine” He took the money and then filled the basket with everything I had bought. “Thanks” I walked away. I could hear him behind me mumbling to himself. I decided that had taken much less time than I had imagined so I walked a little farther to see what was going on outside my own little world in the castle. Everything seemed to calm. I wondered if people decided it was to droopy outside to do anything, anyway I didn’t really mind I was not in the mood to be talking a whole lot. Every step little puffs of dirt would rise around my feet, I try so hard to keep my clothes clean and then I take one little trip outside and it’s all dirty I thought to myself at least it is not mud. I walked gradually farther thinking in the back of my mind I had probably been gone long enough and still had my trip back to the castle, and Gerald had sent me out to get things for the soup. But yet still knowing all this I continued farther a part of me wanting to find a good reason to be out longer. It is awfully strange how barely anyone is around it was only a bit after two o’clock. At that moment I could hear chatter up ahead, I sped up little, of course then so caught by what was going on I failed to notice a stone in the walkway and bumped my foot on it. “Ouch” my toes throbbed for a second but I did not ponder on it to long. There in front of the church was a large crowd. I then rushed forward the air now was full of whispers and questions. The sky and darkened even more and the moistness around me had gotten heavier. The church seemed not so safe as how it usually does with it’s pretty kind of glow and colors. “What is going on?” I asked a group on middleaged women clutching dirty little hands of small children desperately jumping and standing on tip toes to see what everyone else was so struck by. “Seems as if someone was not happy or something and threw rock straight through the churches expensive glass window, can’t imagine who.” Another lady jumped in, “I bet you it was the black smith you know they always have that strange looked around them and always so much dirtier then the rest.” she stared at the stained glass window with its giant whole right where Jesus’ heart would be his shoulders were basically gone as well and cracks layed from his waist to his chin. “I bet you he grew tired of the churches ways or something, he was at church every meeting but his business had seemed to be ruin slower maybe he was being punished.” The women finally looked at me eyes open wide and lips stuck together, they looked as if the had just took a big sip of a very sour lemon. “When did this happen” I asked. “Oooo sometime during all the ruckus someone threw a rock and broke the window and on one seems to have seen a thing seems to me quite impossible but who I am I to know a thing” the women looked again at the window then back at me “and if you don’t mind can I ask who are you?” “Me? Well I work in the castle and was just in the market for a quick trip” I said. Remembering where I was then thinking I should really get back. I had not realized how long it had been since I had left. “Well the king, so you must not have seen anything, I hope he at least comes down here a attempts to figure this whole thing out” “Ya may not be to much of that he has been pre occupied finding the next innocent girl to marry” they chatted on already moving on from me. “Okay well thinks for the information. Bye.” I was pretty sure they had not heard me or even cared but all the less I walked away wondering who in the world could have done that and why. I turned around. Wow well I guess this would make an excuse to have taken long I cant wait to tell every one about this, hopefully it has not already reached them. I picked up the pace this time not caring about the dirt or my clothes getting dirtier.

Emily Dodd Walls. There is a slight hissing from under my bed, but I’m too tired to climb down the ladder to investigate. If I had a choice, I’d have xray vision, and I wouldn’t have to get up. There are clothes spread anywhere you look on the floor, papers flood my steps, and the dresser is caked with makeup. Today isn’t the day I want to wake up. I jolt into a sitting position, forcing myself awake and telling myself that it doesn’t matter if I want to wake up or not. The hissing does not cease for a few more seconds. I debate in my mind whether descending the ladder to the floor is worth my time or if the warm blanket wrapped around my waist should tempt me. But the hissing continues. It takes all of my will power, but I thrust the blanket to the end of the bed. As my feet hit the rough carpet, the hissing turns into a slight rumble. A black figure dances around my peripheral vision, and I jump. I spin to the right and find two cold eyes staring back into mine. Roscoe. By the scruff of the neck, I toss him out the door professing my hatred for the feline foe. Pulling a musty sweater over my head I yawn and remember the warm bed waiting for me. I don’t return to it and drag my feet towards the kitchen. It isn’t a long journey but I’d rather not take it. It’s cold, and there are gray clouds following me today. I check my phone for messages, and I have missed several calls in my sleep. Who calls at midnight, anyways? It doesn’t matter, because I am already returning the call just like I am expected to. Between my ear and shoulder I balance my phone, not nearly thick enough to hold. The dial tone is going slower than normal. Or maybe I’m just tired. I hear a muffled “Yeah,” as the call is accepted. “You called me last night.” I stated. “I did.” The voice replies. “What do you want, Denis?” “What do you think I want?” “I know I don’t need to waste my minutes on someone who won’t talk to me on the phone.” I said grudgingly. “If you wanted to go, you would have hung up by now.” Denis antagonized. “Maybe I will hang up this time.” “You won’t.” I put my hand to the phone, fingering the end button with my thumb. I didn’t give him the pleasure of a reply, pressed the button, and tossed the device to the counter. This wasn’t worth my time. On the stovetop a kettle squealed with heat. I removed it from the burner, placing it on the marbled countertops. Scavenging through the cupboards I found myself packets of tea and a bottle of honey. Mixing the concoction I thought of my todo list for the day. Then I decided to not have a todo list. Why does one need a todo list on Saturday? The weekend was my personal Sabbath, worshipping the God of relaxation. Therefore I decided relaxing, is what I would do. Starting with a lovely cup of tea, and disgusting weather. Rituals included endless hours of sleep, walks to anywhere close enough, and supplies of junk food to last any normal person a month.

Sana Farooqi

Amina’s Adventure on the Titanic

In the morning, I hear my mother calling me, “Amina... Get up...” she says in her beautiful motherly voice. I wake up to my stomach grumbling. I need some food. The food here, in second class, isn’t too bad. Actually, it’s not bad at all. We got the impression that the Titanic was going to be really magnificent, but that was more for the first class people. As I move the curtains of my berth aside, I look around our room. The room isn’t too large, which is good for a little family like mine. There are four berths built into the cabin walls, with curtains surrounding them. We didn’t want a fourth person that we didn’t know to sleep in our cabin with us, we liked some privacy. So we bought tickets for four berths. Getting out of my top berth, I step down onto the floor. I remember when we first got here, my mother didn’t want me sleeping on top, cause there would have been a risk of me falling off and possibly getting an injury. But, I begged and pleaded for her to let me sleep there. And, eventually, she let me. Typical motherly concerns. My father on the other hand didn’t care too much, because he knows that I can take care of myself. As I get down onto the floor I smell my mother’s perfume. It’s her signature scent. She’s always had that same perfume for some reason. It never really gets old, that fresh, flowery smell. My mother and father are sitting on the lower berths, chatting. They always seem to be doing that. They are very mellow people. Never does it seem that they get really mad or are in a lot of stress. They never have gotten extremely mad at me before. Which is a good thing of course, because then I get off easy. I advance towards them and sit down beside my father. “Salaam,” I say. “Salaam,” they reply. They seem to be very happy. They wanted to go on this voyage because they wanted to get away from their hometown, Saudi Arabia. Go to a new place to start a new life. My parents have brought some bread up for me, along with a cup of tea. It is no longer steaming. They must have brought it up a while ago. “So, care to tell us anything new?” my father asks. He’s usually the one that asks this question because he is curious to know what’s going on in my life. Many people don’t like their parents asking them this, but I, in fact, do like it. “Well, I met a first class girl yesterday. She seemed a bit… I don’t know the word…” I trail off, trying to find the right word to describe her. “She seemed a bit selfabsorbed?” my mother asks. It’s as if my mother knows exactly the type of person I’m talking about. “Yes, exactly. I don’t know why she is like that. I wanted to get to know her more and become friends, but I guess she just didn’t want to.” My stomach starts to grumble. My father hands over the bread and tea. I take a bite. “Well, if she doesn’t want to be friends with you, then just go try someone else. There may be other girls who are nicer,” he says. Giving his usual fatherly advice. He is always telling me to try out new things and to go after my dreams. He tells me to reach for the stars even if it takes a thousand tries to get there. “Maybe it’s because I wear hijab,” I say hesitantly. Ever since I was young, I have always liked the idea of covering with my hijab. It makes a person look truly modest. Modesty means everything to me. I find it pleasing and really essential to my life. It’s not tough at all. Although, it seems like it would be. I look up at my parents and see their worried faces. They always knew that this would happen. “You can’t let that get to you. You have to be proud of your identity. Hold it deep in your heart,” my mother says. She is always telling me this and has been stressing the importance ever since I can remember. But she has never had to try too hard to get her point across. This was always utterly important to me. “I know, I know. My Muslim identity is one of the most important things for me. I would never let it go because of one girl that I couldn’t be friends with,” I reply. “Finish your breakfast, Amina,” my father tells me sternly. He too could hear my stomach. He never really gets into the discussions that my Mother and I have about hijab. He doesn’t understand it well enough to relate to us. As I hear my parents start talking again, I finish my breakfast. * * * How could this happen? The Titanic was supposed to be an unsinkable ship. Just five minutes ago people were saying that this ship was never going to sink. And now? What has happened? We have to board the lifeboats, with the women and children going first. My father stands next to us and helps us into the lifeboats. “Sir, please board the lifeboat with your family,” the officer tells my father. “We need a man on the boat to help row.” “But, the women and children need to board first!” “Yes, but there also needs to be a man on board to help reassure the women and children that everything is going to be fine,” the officer replies. As I’m getting onto a lifeboat, I try to look for an empty spot. Suddenly, I see the first class girl that I met the other day. The one that didn’t want to be my friend. She waves her hand and gestures to have me sit next to her. I proceed towards her and she wraps her arms around me. I have a feeling that this is going to be the start of a good friendship.

Alexander GordonSandweiss

The Amazing Voyage of the Beagle

The Beagle sailed along through the Atlantic Ocean. Peter was having the time of his life and he loved being on a ship. He had seen them back in the harbor in London but he had never been on one. Darwin kept throwing up over the side of the ship since he was extremely seasick. Peter started to see an island in the distance. “Hey, Mr. Darwin, do you know what that island over there is?” asked Peter. “I ththink that ththat is Madeira IIsland,” answered Darwin as he vomited over the side of the ship, which Peter grimaced at. “Are we stopping there?” Peter asked. “Yes, it’s oour first pport,” Darwin answered. “I want to see some exotic animals already,” said Peter. “So ddo I PPeter,” Darwin replied. Captain FitzRoy came out of his office onto the deck. “I don’t think that we are going to be able to dock here. The navigators have told me that we’re in a storm,” said Captain FitzRoy. “Oh, we’re not stopping? I really wanted to!” Peter complained. “I’m sorry Peter. I want to get off this ship just like you.” Captain FitzRoy replied. “Oh, it’s alright,” Peter, said. He sounded disappointed, though. “I just love being on the Beagle . We’ve only been gone a few days but I really love this!” “I know you do Peter,” Captain FitzRoy said. “Well, I have to get back to work now,” Peter said. “Me, too,” Captain FitzRoy replied as he walked away. The ship continued to sail for two more days. Both days Peter stood out on the deck when he wasn’t working and watched the ocean and talked to Darwin. “Are you having fun?” Peter asked Darwin one day. “I ccame as the nnaturalist on this vvoyage and I wwant to do mmy job aalready,” Darwin answered. “I know what you mean,” Peter said. “Part of my job is to help you and I’m not doing that.” “I hhaven’t learned aanything yyet,” Darwin complained. “I’m starting to question why I came on this trip.” “Yeah, so have I,” Peter replied. “I took the job on the Beagle to learn things. “Hey, did you see that fish jump out of the water?” Peter asked excitedly. “No, ssorry. I was vvomiting,” Darwin answered. Peter laughed and they went back inside. Two days after they left Madeira Island they arrived at the Canary Islands. The ship sailed into the port at Santa Cruz Island. “I’m really excited,” Peter said to Darwin. “Sso am II,” Darwin replied. “I’m going to go get the equipment,” Peter told Darwin. “Ookay,” Darwin said. Peter went and got the supplies and came back onto the deck. As he was standing there he could see something in the distance something that appeared to be coming towards the Beagle . “What do you think that is?” Peter asked Captain FitzRoy. “It looks like a boat,” Captain FitzRoy replied. “I wonder why it’s coming towards us?” Peter wondered. “I don’t know. I’ll wait until it comes over and then I’ll talk to whoever’s on it,” Captain FitzRoy said. The boat came up and anchored next to the Beagle . “I’m going to go see who that is,” Captain FitzRoy said. “I’ll come,” Peter told him. “Are you from England?” asked the man in a very strange accent Peter had never heard that accent before and with all of the people who came through the London harbor Peter heard a lot of different accents. “Yeah, who are you?” asked Captain FitzRoy. “I’m a health officer here,” answered the man. “Why is your ship here?” “We wanted to come ashore and do some surveying,” answered Captain FitzRoy. “Well, I heard that there was a Cholera outbreak in England,” said the man. “None of my crew is sick,” Captain FitzRoy replied. “But, just to be safe, we can’t let you come ashore,” said the man. “Oh, that’s terrible!” shouted Captain FitzRoy. Peter asked what was wrong since he couldn’t hear the man very well. “They won’t let us come aboard because of the Cholera outbreak in England!” exclaimed Captain FitzRoy. Peter was now starting to get angry. He wanted to see something all ready. He was sick of working on the ship. All he had seen was the ocean and some fish. He started to mutter to himself in annoyance. “The quarantine period is 12 days,” said the man. “We’ll wait here for a few days and then decide if we want to leave or not,” said Captain FitzRoy. “Okay, have a nice day,” said the man as he turned his boat around to leave. “Thanks, you too,” replied Captain FitzRoy as he walked away. Peter lugged all of the equipment back to Darwin’s room. Afterwards, Peter went to Capt. FitzRoy. “Hey, Captain, I want to go exploring. I was promised to as part of this job,” complained Peter. “I know you do. We just have to do this and that and comply with everyone’s rules,” Captain FitzRoy replied. “When do you think I’ll be able to?” Peter asked. “I don’t know. Hopefully at our next port, which is the Cape Verde Islands,” answered Captain FitzRoy. Over the next few days Peter worked thinking about what could be on those islands. Captain FitzRoy was also getting annoyed and impatient so he ordered the Beagle to continue to the Cape Verde Islands. Darwin and Peter started talking about exploring. “I’m ddisappointed that wwe didn’t get tto go aashore,” Darwin said. “I know, so am I,” Peter told him. “HHopefully, we’ll gget to at tthe Cape VVerde Islands,” Darwin said. “Yeah, I agree,” replied Peter. The ship continued to sail towards the Cape Verde Islands and both Peter and Darwin were getting very excited about exploring the islands.

Russel Groves

No Escape?

Me, the Frenchman that I recognized from Mauthausen, and another man who looked like he was Polish, were shunted down the road inside the camp by some Ukrainian guards. We passed barrack after barrack, and I thought that they were going to continue pulling us somewhere where we would do slave labor, but they stopped at barrack number 79. One of them unlocked the door, and the three of us were shoved, not too gently, inside. As we tripped and fell on the dirt floor, I heard the door slam shut and the click of a lock behind. Getting up, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a single, bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire. The slamming of the door had shaken the whole structure, making the light bulb swing back and forth. It cast gloomy shadows on the wall of all the tall bunks. I actually jumped when I saw that we weren’t alone in here, there were others occupying most of the wooden slats for beds. They had all looked up at the sound of our arrival, and most were settling back down. Except for one. A man who looked around his late 30’s was staring at me. I returned the look a little more harshly. This seemed to bring words to his mouth. “Sorry if my staring worries you,” he said in Hebrew, “but what the hell happened to your face?” “Why would you care?” I shot back. I noticed an empty bunk at the far end of the room, and made to go there. “Hey, listen boy!” He grabbed my arm as I walked past. “Get your hands off me!” I yelled, trying to yank my arm out of his strong grasp. “You need to be cleaned up, boy, you’ll get infected! Sit down next to me! I used to be a doctor. Please.” “He’s right.” Said the Frenchman, speaking for the first time. “You aren’t looking too good.” Everyone was looking at us now. I hesitated. “Fine then,” I said, sitting down next to him. “But don’t expect me to just tell you anything that’s happened to me.” “Fine with me,” he said, pulling several bottles of some unknown liquids and a rag from in between some boards in his bunk. “Excuse me for a second.” He walked to the back of the barrack with the rag, and I heard the sound of running water on metal through the darkness. He then returned with a basin full of water under one arm, and wringing out the rag with his free hand. He then washed off my face with a drop from one of the bottles. I guess it was soap, because it stung a bit. “Dang son, you’re really beat up,” he said. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me how you got all these?” At first when the words left his mouth all I was thinking about was knocking the bottle and rag out of his hands, shouting more swear words at him, and stalking back to the corner to sleep. But then I realized that this man actually wanted to help me. There could be some importance of this; this man might’ve told the truth about being a doctor. Also, many people these days didn’t really care about other’s safety and health, they mostly were focused on getting themselves out of these camps alive no matter how many other lives it took. Who knows, this man might need these medicines (or whatever was in those bottles) for himself later. But he decided to use some of them to help me. I then realized that it was a good thing that I found someone that would actually listen to my story. Again, nobody really cared about that stuff coming from other people’s mouths. “Well, I got this scar,” I finally replied, indicating one that stretched from the outside corner of my right eye, down my cheek, and across my chin to the end of the other cheek, “when the Nazis found out that me and my family were big involvers in the French Resistance. They broke down our front door took us all away, tortured us, and threw us on trains heading for various concentration camps. And I“ “Hold on, hold on!” He said, raising his hand up. “You’re French ??” “Yeah, of course, why?” “With wounds like that, I would expect you to be a Soviet!” “A soviet?” I retorted, surprised. “What’ve they got to do with anything?” “Hell boy, where’ve you been all this time?” he said, his eyes widening. “Haven’t you heard?” “Well, I was going to explain where i’ve been, but you interrupted me.” “Oh, sorry, but you need to hear about what’s been going down over in the East.” “Alright…” I said. “What is it?” “Well, the Nazis have tried expanding their territory even more now, and they’ve entered the USSR hoping to take control of it. I don’t think it’ll be easy though, since the country is so much larger than the other ones they’ve taken.” “What?! Really?” I exclaimed, for this was complete news to me. “How could they get all the way in and take the entire country? Are they successful at all yet?” “Well, the Soviets have got an army set up there, they call it the Red Army,” He said calmly, as if we were discussing the mater lightly over drinks. “They have lots of strong, skilled fighters, but not strong enough to defeat the Nazis. They’ve been taken prisoner and brought away to be slaves or be executed. I’ve seen a few in this camp, and I’m sure there will be plenty more coming in soon.” “Wow. That’s completely unexpected,” I said, slightly in shock from this news. “Indeed, what did you say your name was, son?” “Telford Lefevre” “I’m Bartlomiej Leterski. I’m from Poland. So are you going to tell us what happened after your family was taken from you?” “Not now, actually, it’ll take too long. Maybe another time. Do you mind telling me where I am?” “But…” he began “No, I’m serious!” I said, my voice rising. “We need to get out of here and escape!” A few seconds’ ringing silence followed that, then everyone started to laugh. “What?” I snapped, scanning my narrowed eyes over everyone, annoyed at them for laughing. But then my gaze stopped when it reached the Frenchman, for I noticed he wasn’t laughing, he looked thoughtful. “Well, what is it?” I asked Bartlomiej. “Son,” he chuckled, this place has some of the harshest SS officers and the thickest barbed wire in all of Poland. Trying to escape, c’est ridicule. ” These last 2 words were spoken in a heavy Polish accent with a slight mocking tone. He was still smiling. I was again filled with the urge to run at him, and throttle him by the neck. Another quick glance at the Frenchman showed me that he wanted to do the same. “How long have you been here, Bartholomew ?” I asked him, putting the biggest French accent I could on his name. His smile went away like a light bulb being blown. “About three months.” He snapped. “Good, so you know the camp inside and out right?” “Yeah well not so much on the… Telford, why do you care?” he shot at me. “Hey, I’ve been looking around since I got here, and I’ve already got plans for escape forming in my head!” I shouted back. “If the plans look to sketchy, then we can ditch the idea, but there’s no harm in trying. If they’re not gonna work out, , then we have to wait till we’re liberated, and god knows how long that’ll be.” Another long silence followed this. Bartlomiej looked thoughtful now too, as well as a few others. “Fine then son,” he finally said. “I’ll draw you a floor plan tomorrow. Lets all get some sleep.” He walked over to the wall where the lightswitch was and flicked it off. I climbed into the bunk against the wall next to him. I rolled over to watch the setting sun’s light grow dimmer through a gap in the wall. For the first time in months, I smiled.

Cory Henderson

The Start of a New Beginning The day was short. A small breeze swept through the town causing all the fallen leaves to run across the ground like they were in a foot race. The sun was making its appearance and scared all of the clouds away so all there was in the sky was blue. Even though all of Europe could see the sun, it felt like this small town in the middle of Europe had the sun all to ourselves. The town square was down the street and to the left of my house. I ran up to the front window of my house and stood on the tip of my toes to get just my face over the windowsill. I pressed my face against the cold glass to see outside. There were lots of people outside; more than usual. I ran outside to see what was the matter. “Prescott!” my mother snapped. I stopped running and turned around to see her standing in the doorway with a bowl of radishes in her hands. She looked annoyed that I was leaving the house. My mother’s name is Mae. She has long brown hair that she usually keeps tied up behind her head. She works at home gathering Radishes from our garden and cleaning them to take to the market and sell. She is a pretty woman with a hat that she always wears; my dad was a lucky man to marry her. My dad’s name was Fisk. He pasted away (from sickness) while traveling to a neighboring town over a few miles away. I miss him but I know he is in Heaven and looking down on me. “Come hither! Just whither art thou going?” she said. “To go see what all the commotion is, mother. Prithee, Let us go thither?” “Aye splendid, but wait just a second! Let me get mine hat to wear, and then we will go thither” and she walked back into the house. I waited a while but she didn’t emerge. “That’s it, she taketh too long.” I said and I took off. All of the people seemed to be heading to the town square. I ran down the street as fast as I could. Dodging people left and right I was coming up to a group of people crowding around the main street. I could hear many people cheering and whistling for whatever was on the street. What in the world could it be? I thought to myself. Could it be a street performer? A jester? Oh I hope it’s a knight! I hope nothing bad has happened! I don’t know why, but I have always liked knights and armour and horses. I remember a while ago when I was 6, I was able to talk to a knight and he said that he has met the king! Oh I wish I were a knight! I couldn’t see anything. All the people towered over me as if they were giants. Since I couldn’t see anything, I decided to just push my way to the front. I started to push. People in front of me started getting angry with me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see what was there. As I got to the front I could see why everyone was here. On mainstreet, I could see down a couple hundred feet to where the street crested over the hill and entered the town. A few men on horseback appeared and started galloping into the main square where we were. Behind the men on horseback there were ten other men on horseback. In two rows of five the men rode into town. “Ho, look at those nobles!” a man next to me in the crowd said. “See thou,” the man started to tell me. “The one in the front row and in the middle,” the man pointed to the longhaired noble in the first row. “He’s the richest of them all because his velvet red jacket is the longest.” I looked at the man in the middle row his cloths were so elegant. I looked at my clothes, dirty, damp and ripped. I have seen these men before. I think it was three years ago when I was 6. The nobles came through here and I got to see them. The nobles live over hill in a large stone castle. They come through the town at least once every couple months and it is always a thrill to see them. “Bread!” I heard a villager say. I looked around to see who said that. Right then piece of bread hit me in the face. I was shocked to see out of one of the wagons trailing behind them was their own personal cook throwing bread out to the crowd. I was so happy to have gotten a bread loaf. All I ever eat is radishes and I am sick of them. I started to feel hands behind me. People started to push towards the bread wagon. I started to get pushed into the middle of the street. “Halt! Halt!” I started to yell but no one could hear me over the cheering. I tried to move but I couldn’t. I was getting pushed into the street. I fell into the street, my knees hitting the gravel first and scraping. I missed falling under the horses by a few inches. Then I heard a “watch out!” from a near by woman but it was too late. The wagon being pulled by the horses kept going and the right wheels ran over my left leg. I could feel my bones being crushed by the immense pressure of the full wagon. I started to scream. Right before I passed out I saw my mom shoving people out of her way to get to me. I woke up the next day to the town doctor and my mom sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “What happened?” I asked. As I looked towards my mother I could see her in pain. “Mother what’s wrong?” It looked as though she was about to cry. I felt great. I felt like I could go run forever. I started to wiggle my toes. And then suddenly, I could only feel one foot. I threw off my covers of the bed I was in to see my left leg. It was blue and purple. “Oh my gosh!” I tried to move it but I couldn’t. “Its broken in three different places” the Doctor said. “I might have to cut it off if it does not get better.” He said and looked at the ground. “It’s going to be fine son,” my mother said as sweet as ever trying not to look scared for me. “I know it will.” I said to her and smiled and held her hand. “Now can I take my boy home?” my mother said in a snappy manner. “Aye, you may, but he can only stand for small periods of time. Not longer than a few minutes!” he said in a worried tone. “’Tis most splendid!” my mother said happily. With a hop to her step she got up and put on her hat that she always wore. “Come on Prescott” she said as she helped me up and practically carried me home. “Grammarcy, you are most kind,” my mother said as she walked out the door of doc’s place. My mother was strong enough to carry me home, for she worked in the garden all day. I knew that from that day on, my life was changed forever.

Scott H.

Radio Drama

“Pass me some damned mashed potatoes!” Henry yells. “Don’t swear, Henry. You’re nine years old! And if you are gonna swear, try not to damn the food you’re eating.” She yells back from the kitchen. This is my family. Dysfunctional, crazy and yet a beautiful work of art. You see, in our house, if you ain’t doin’ it right, you ain’t doin’ at all. If you can’t swear appropriately, then you’ll have to leave the cussing to someone that can. And that’s where mom comes in. “God damnit!” she screams as she touches the hot stove. “Stupid piece of s**t! Never should’ve bought this junkyard oven in the first place! Jesus…” Mom isn’t religious, but she feels no shame in blaming her troubles on Jesus. We use to go to church, but when Momo came along, we figured no one would want to hear a baby crying the whole service. “Mom!” Henry whines. “Momo just threw up!” Henry whines a lot. All of the parents go googoo eyes over him and says he’s “the most mature nine yearold they’ve ever met”. But as soon as he’s home and safe, he’s worse than Momo. “Waa!” yells Momo as he flings his peach pudding on our wall. “Mom! Hurry and clean this up! I can’t eat with Momo’s undigested baby food sitting right next to me!” Henry cries again. You may think we’re a little bit crazy, and in a lot of ways, we are. Luckily, mom does her best to keep us all together. With dad being the lazy ass he is, that can be pretty tough sometimes. But where we come from, it’s weird for a family not to have a goodfornothing father. “Come on, ma! I’m about to puke too! Then you’ll just have to clean twice as much as before!” Henry yells. He is really pushing his limits. My mom begs me, “Kat, can you please clean up the horrible puke mess Henry keeps bitchin’ about?” “I’m on it.” I say. She smiles briefly, then gets back to what she was doing. The mess isn’t that bad. It’s just a little orange spot on the floor that Henry tried to blow way out of proportion. Surprisingly, with messes like these coming daily, our house manages to say relatively clean. We live in a small farm town in New Jersey called Grover’s Mill. No one really knows Grover is, but everyone likes to claim they’re descended from him. If everyone’s claims were true, this Grover guy must’ve had at least sixty kids in life. But who knows? Could’ve been a busy guy. “Steak is ready!” Mom exclaims as she walks into the dining room. “About time!” Henry says, his words dripping with impatience. “You know, things could go a lot faster if I had some help in the kitchen.” My mother shoots a glance at me. “And your constant whining certainly does make me go any faster.” Henry realizes that he’s touched a sensitive spot, and he apologizes quickly. This seems to happen a lot. Henry’s rudeness offends someone, but after a bogus apology, they end up better friends than before. But, I refuse to stoop to that level. If someone ticks me off, than I make sure that they know it. And if they don’t know it, I make it my mission to turn their life into a living hell. “So kids, how was your day?” My mom asks, relieved to finally be seated and eating. “Just horrible! This one kid brought a freakin’ toad into class after recess, and it decided to jump onto my desk! I just about threw up over that!” Henry says, once again highlighting how squeamish he is. “I could very well end up a traumatized adult over that.” My mom laughs at his childish overdramatic way of telling stories. My mom doesn’t laugh very often, so it’s nice to see her chuckle at Henry’s story. Henry on the other hand, is very offended. “I’ll have you know that toad was nearly five inches long! It probably could have eaten my hand if it wanted to, and it got all of its nasty slime all over my science homework! I don’t think you realize just how serious this actually is! “Oh, I completely understand the lifethreatening danger you were in. Have you considered calling the police on this rebel toad?” My mom says, clearly mocking Henry. Henry doesn’t pick up on it. “Well, I did think about it, but I figured they couldn’t really put the toad in jail, so I decided the best path would be to call that exterminator business and arrange the mass murder of those dirty, nasty toads!” My mom laughs again, and even I let out a chuckle this time. Dinner goes on like normal until suddenly my dad, normally uninvolved in family meals, yells at us from the living room. “Hey Martha, you had better get in here quick!” “What do you want, Don?” My mom cries angrily. She does not appreciate him interrupting her family dinner. “Kids, grab your emergency kits!” My dad yells at us, ignoring my mother. After a few seconds of confusion, the recognition hits me like a Joe Louis punch to the gut. “Why the emergency kits? I don’t see a fire, and the earth certainly isn’t quaking,” I retort smartly. “Just do it!” My dad screams. Henry and I scamper upstairs to grab the emergency kits, scared out of our minds. Five years ago, New Jersey passed some law that said elementary schools had to be prepared for all types of emergencies, so out school forced us to make emergency kits that had essential supplies, in case of an emergency. We also have to do tons of other dumb stuff like fire drills and earthquake drills. They’ll probably eliminate the law in a few years anyways. I eventually find my emergency kit underneath my bed. My kit is in an old Mickey Mouse lunchbox that’s practically rusted shut after spending so much time underneath my bed. All that’s in it is a bottle of water, a five yearold ham sandwich and a blanket. I don’t see how any of that would be helpful in an emergency. I rush downstairs and find the entire family huddled around our radio. All I hear is an orchestra playing old music written by some dead guy. I’m about to say something, when an announcer’s voice interrupts me. The radio cackles, “Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt our program of dance music to bring you a special bulletin from the Intercontinental Radio News…”

Brian Hoover

The Assignment That warm, summer night we were back at our base, a small compound with a runway and many storage units used for stocking supplies. Even now, after 25 years I can still picture that place. The bustle of people was a constant background noise and, every once in a while, the roar of a Grumman F4F Hellcat tearing down the runway filled a soldier’s ears. The smell of gas fumes was continually in the air. It had been a while since our last assignment, but we hadn’t been released from army duty. We had been at our base in New Mexico where we studied reports from the frontlines and maps of the enemies’ movements, trying to predict their next move. This was a boring and fruitless job. We never had any success, for our enemies were good at disguising their real intentions. By now my unit and I were itching for some action, anything different that might let us escape from the dullness of our everyday routine. I finally voiced my frustration when Jason and I were walking back to our bunks after a long day studying maps of Normandy, France. “Why must we do this?” I exclaimed, kicking aside the pebbles in front of me. “They don’t even tell us what all of this will accomplish.” “I don’t know,” Jason answered. “But it must be very important, we have been looking at the same map for weeks now. I just have no idea what they want us to accomplish! The whole western front is so well defended by the Atlantic Wall that it would take tens of thousands of men to stage any type of attack. And there would be thousands of casualties.” “I know, I just wish they would tell us something instead of leaving us in the dark like this,” I replied. “True. This is boring. We need something new and interesting to do!” Then to our surprise, a voice behind us spoke. “You really want some action?” We turned and coming out of the shadows behind the mess hall was Major John Liner. Liner was a very strict veteran and had been through a lot in his life. However, he was one of my best friends in the army. He had taught me everything I knew and when he was with me I knew I could count on him. However, at the moment Jason and I were startled by his sudden appearance. I was wary, wondering what Liner had in mind for us. Before I could make a thoughtful, careful reply Jason, always being quick to answer, responded without thinking of the consequences. “Of course! What do you have in mind? Anything would be better than this!” Jason exclaimed. “Okay,” Liner replied. “I have just the right thing for you. Come on inside and have some coffee. It’s cold out here, I’ll explain where it’s warm.” Liner ground his cigarette beneath his heel and headed off, weaving between buildings. By this time I was beginning to fill with dread. This mystery assignment could be anything at all. Jason might have volunteered us for the easiest and least dangerous job in the world or maybe an invasion that would be the most dangerous of the war. But no matter what, now we were committed, thanks to Jason and his quick mouth. Liner’s clear destination was the command building near the center of the compound. All of the plans and strategies came from here. As I realized where we were heading I felt myself thinking back to all that research I had done in the last few months, trying to figure out if it had something to do with this assignment. My mind went immediately to the map studying. The latest maps had been of Normandy, France. Would that be related to the present opportunity? Maybe an invasion to attempt to force the Germans back to their own country? I was beginning to feel queasy, the idea of being part of such a massive invasion was frightening. The chances of being injured or killed in such an operation were quite large. I desperately wished we had not met Liner on the way back to our bunks. Jason opened the door for Liner and I, the bright lights temporarily blinding me. As my eyes adjusted, I was surprised to find that there were many people there, even at this late hour. As I looked closer I realized that many of them were highranking officers, and the oddest thing was they seemed to be expecting me. Liner handed me a cup of coffee and I took my seat around the table. “Officers, this is Major Jake Pike. He and his friend Lieutenant Jason Tremp have volunteered their services for this assignment.” Liner began. “I will leave it up to General Winch to hand out the details.” “Good evening men. First of all I would like to let you know that you were already chosen for this position, but I am very glad that you have volunteered as well.” General Winch said. “Why don’t I begin by giving you an explanation for what you call ‘useless studies.” He smiled as I started. I never realized anyone else was aware of my feelings towards that work. “Yes,” Winch said. “I do pay attention. Now do you want justification for all your hard work?” “Yes please,” Jason replied sarcastically. Winch turned, giving him a flat stare for interrupting before continuing. “These studies of Normandy have been vital to set up this plan. Without them we would never know where to attack, and how difficult this plan would be to execute.” “You keep talking about the plan except you never tell us what it actually is! What are we going to do?” I exclaimed. Winch turned to me, a small smile on his face. “Patience, my friend,” he laughed. Then turning serious again, “The Allies are planning an invasion of Germanheld Normandy, France.” I was stunned but I turned, keeping a straight face and thinking hard. Why would this happen? Why did Jason just have to be so quick to answer? How did I get stuck with something that may be the hardest assignment of the war? Winch continued, “You will be part of the second wave attacking Omaha Beach, landing about 30 minutes after the first assault. I will be there, on one of the battleships offshore directing operations. You will receive more details in a few days. However, now you may go to your bunks and get some sleep. Tomorrow you will leave for Great Britain.” I was relieved he didn’t expect anything from us then and there, for I was still shocked from this news. I put on my best poker face, stood up, and nodded. “Thank you. Goodnight sir.”

Joshua Howland A Night at my House She walks away now, temporarily, then comes back with a glass of water. “Get up or this goes on your face,” she stands over me menacingly with the glass of ice water from our icebox and tap dispenser ready to dump. I get up, walking away to our bedroom to change as she relaxes and goes to open the door. The stairs have a black carpet running up them with hardwood strips on each side, feeling very comfortable to my feet as I pad up. My wife gets to the door, and lets in Mr. Lang, a Chinese immigrant who is one of my lower coworkers. They greet as I reach my room. I step inside, closing the door behind me. Inside the room, I walk over to my dresser, grab a set of black slacks, and a white shirt. A set of my wife’s flapper dresses lies on the table leading to the bathroom, I knock it to the whitecarpeted floor for the maid to find and put away later. I change, then go into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water. As it drips down into the sink I look at my reflection in our mirror, lined with warm glowing bulb lights on the perimeter, then feel the smooth granite counter, spacing out into a state of peaceful thinking. Quickly now I shake my head and wipe my face. I realize I must have been standing their thinking for ten minutes now, so I walk out of the room, hastily grab a tie sitting on the entrance to the closet, tie it, and hurry out the door. On my way to the stairs, I can now hear a steady buzz of the guests chatting, it sounds as if there are fifteen or more by now. I run down the stairs to make my appearance. “Ah, Nelson,” someone yells from across the room. I walk into the sea of people, multiple hands reach out to stop me to say high. There is Gibberish of voices coming out of the crowd and everywhere trying to greet me. I focus on Mr. Berg first, he is the most important guest we invited, he has skill that I want to have in my company, and I plan to ask him if he would work for me at the end of the night. I say to him, “Mr. Berg, what a honor it is for you to be here!” “It is a honor to be here my friend,” he replies. I thank him then move on. I ignore the rest, and move through the crowd trying to find my wife. I work my way through many of my business partners and friends, hearing many ecstatic greetings, and enthusiastic remarks to me as I move past. As I make my way to the front hall, I see my wife greeting people at the door. I walk to stand by her and shake the people hands that walk in. “What a pleasure to have you here”, I say to John. “Why thank you, I'm glad to be here,” he replies. As more and more people filter through the door, I begin to tire. I walk back, through the hall, to the giant crowd of people, through them, and to the old bar. This is the bar that I used to commonly drink at, until the government went corrupt with prohibition. Now, its tap still has drink, but it is illegal, we have a servant import it from a lake house that supplies it “medically.” We have 4 different kegs of beer, and three types of wine, aged 10+ years, and imported from somewhere in Canada . I sit in a seat on the left side of the bar, watching the black servant pours water and juice to hand out. People walk up to him and ask for what they want, and he gives it to them in circular glass cups that triangle outwards as they go up. “What are you doing here, honey?” My wife has left the door and now takes a seat next to me. “Taken a break, again,” I reply. “Again?” She laughs; I can tell she’s annoyed at me, still, from my little nap. “Yep, is Mr. Carson here yet?” I question. She laughs and walks off, shooting me one of those you will see soon looks, and then decides to reply, “Why, don’t I wonder?” I know she must have seen him come in at the door, she’s one of those people that when they have a secret, they love to go around gawking at others that don’t know, but then still after they beg and bribe wont tell them what they want to know. I guess you could say that’s loyal, or just simply a sophisticated way to piss someone off. I flip my barstool around, leaning on its leather covered wood back, enjoying my view of the crowd. Most of the men are wearing tuxedos, probably trying to impress me, and the women wearing formal dresses, and I notice a couple wearing flappers, a knee long skirt that has many flaps and strips of shiny materials. They all stand around in little groups talking, about anything from gossip to work, creating a loud buzz. I’ve sat long enough, I get up and walk towards a group of four or less people standing in a circle that has a gap to one side. I walk up to the circle, filling the gap. “How’s the party going guys?” I ask. “Great,” Three people reply. They all say it at the same time, confusing their voices, so I wait a second to reply, trying to process it all in my head. Before I get a chance to reply, Alex, my company’s marketing head replies, “So how have you been since New York?” I realize I haven’t seen him for the last few weeks, ever since we took a business trip down to New York. We talk on about this for a while, then walk elsewhere. As the party continues throughout the night, guests get more and more tired, and slowly fill up the chairs and places you can lean and talk around the room. Now the bar is full, so I walk up to it and give our servant the nod and line, “Time for taking out the surprise!” He walks back, and comes back slowly, dragging a wheeling cart of four kegs of beer. He claps his hands together twice, silencing the crowd, and announces, “First come first serve!” Slowly, people trickle up to fill their glasses, all of them cautious to take the first drink, as they know that they will then take a second, third, fourth, and so on until they are at their limit, and unable to longer think. As the night tapers on, guests slowly begin to leave, all first coming to me to thank me once again, then finally walk out. I suddenly realize that I forgot about my speech I was to give all, and the talk I was to have with one of my workers. I can’t even remember his name I am so tired, I became tired fast, maybe I am sick because I am so drowsy now. I think, “Whatever, ill let the rest of them clean up…” and I walk upstairs, to my bed, fall on it, and fall asleep.

Michelle Hur

Cherry Blossoms Six months had passed since Alice became an apprentice of Julius Luft. Now that she knew that she wanted to live in the world of music, every moment of her leisure time was dedicated to composing her own piece. As Alice and Peter sat under the exotic cherry blossom tree, they didn’t say a word. Only the comfortable breeze of March interrupted the silence. Both of them were taking in the open view of the vast hills and the lush greenery of Austria. “What are you thinking Alice?” Peter asks. Alice doesn’t answer right away. The wind blew again and shook the pink blossoms above. Some of them fell down like snow and fluttered to the ground near Alice and Peter. She didn’t know Peter would take her to a place like this. All the time she made herself busy with work. Sitting here under the unusually enormous cherry blossom tree was a new experience. “Peter.” Alice suddenly had the urge to call his name. This time Peter doesn’t answer. “Peter, why did you take me here?” For an instant, Alice remembered the time when she first met Peter. The night he came up to her on the streets of Vienna and asked if he could take her somewhere with him. “When I just became an apprentice of Julius, I was caught up with helping and composing just like you.” Peter answered. His soothe voice rang in the air. “Then I finally had time to myself when Julius finished his piece and went on a vacation trip. He could have taken me but I decided to look around the city. That’s when I found this place. The moment I walked up the hill and saw the tree, sat under the tree and closed my eyes, I could finally relax. It felt like something came into my mind and body and shook the worries out.” The moment he finished his story, he met eyes with Alice. His deep purplish eyes were trying to tell her something. “I hope you are experiencing the same feeling Alice.” Alice could do nothing but be surprised. Even though Peter was always nice, she didn’t know what kind of person he was. She didn’t expect Peter to care about her. “Thank you, Peter.” Alice smiled back at him. Silence settled between them but it was rather comforting and relaxing. They felt like they were connected. With the sudden rush of inexpressible joy, Alice looked around to take in the view once again. The greenery of the surrounding hills gave a scent of freshness. It seemed like the hill they were on was the only one with the blossom tree. Peaceful atmosphere reigned over the area. Near them there was a rusty railroad that seemed to stretch far beyond the hills. “Do trains come by often?” “Do you want to go somewhere?” Peter answered back with his own question. His eyes were still closed. “Maybe.” “They come by from time to time. You want to leave us?” “Not at all. I would hate to leave. I finally found a home and a family.” Alice mumbled the last few words, but Peter picked it up. “Why did you want to do music?” He asked. The question was so sudden and irrelative, but Alice knew what he really wanted to hear about. He wanted to know why she was on the streets. Alice thought for a moment and remembered how she was hesitant when they first met. Now, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know more about her. “I was the child of my father’s affair. My mother disappeared as soon as she gave birth. I guess she really didn’t want me.” Although it wasn’t something funny, Alice let out a dry laugh. “Of course I was excluded from my father’s family and was soon sent to my relatives. When I thought I was old enough to live on my own I left.” As Alice finished her same old story, another breeze went by. This time it was a bit cooler than the last one. “Why don’t you tell me your story?” “My story? You want to know my story?” Peter seemed surprised but soon regained his calmness. “Well, to make a long story short, my father was an aristocrat. He took me to Julius’ concert one day when I was ten. The moment we sat down and listened to his piece, I was instantly captured by the sonorous melody and fell in love with music ever since. In the other hand, my father wanted me to follow his footsteps. But as much as that didn’t appeal to me, I was determined to do what I wanted to do, music. I learned that money and authority wasn’t everything. There were more things to life than that.” “I think I learned the better things about life.” Alice answered after a little pause. The two of them met eyes for the second time. It seemed as if time stopped, as if the whole world went silent. “That’s wonderful, Alice. I’m glad you had the chance to discover the real meaning of life.” Although Alice didn’t say exactly what and when she learned the better things about life, Peter knew what she was talking about. It was the moment she met him, the moment she met Julius, and the moment music rang through her heart. He knew because that was when he had discovered the real meaning of life. “It’s also nice to hear your voice. I’d love to hear it more often.” He added the comment and smiled. Alice felt her face blush. She had never experienced the blood rushing through the cheeks causing it to look bright pink. The color contrasted with her light skin. “We should be on our way now. It will be night when we arrive home. By the way, did you know that Julius is scheduling your concert?” Peter stood up and lent a hand to Alice. It was exactly like when she met Peter for the first time. But now, Alice is not on the streets, she’s not wearing dirty clothes, and she’s not alone. She grabbed his hand and stood up next to him. As they walked down the hill holding hands, the sun started to set and Alice was already excited about her first concert.

Hazel Lallemand

Arailia’s Pain

As he walked through the archway door of the small, quaint antique store, a musty smell hit him immediately. He looked around, seeing dark wooden chairs pushed closely together and dustylooking carpets, made from elaborate patterns with exuberant colors, hanging from the ceiling or in unorganized piles all over the small room. The air is warm, and strangely soothing to him. He looks over the room more thoroughly, seeing some rustic glass earrings as well as large, gold jewelry, and a fortune teller, sitting all alone at a table pushed all the way against the table, looking alone and heartbroken. She was looking down at her hands that were resting gently in her lap; her eyes had a soft feeling to them, as if they were of a small, innocent child. Hope sparked in him. He had heard stories that the village mothers told about fortune tellers, and how they had predicted many large events, such as his mother and father getting married, and his aunt’s husband’s leg getting hurt while in the jungle. He was feeling so desperate, he would do anything to find his sister, no matter what it took. He looked down at his pocket, deciding if it were really worth it to spend the very few coins that he had, that had taken his mother so long to earn. Overwhelmed with emotions and exhaustion, he decided to sit down. He saw this as his last hope to find her, as he had just been walking along a very long path to this town, hoping to get lucky and find her somehow, and he saw this as his time to be lucky. He sat down on a wooden rocking chair, and it creaked loudly as he slightly moved. He was so scared that he would break the chair, that he was too scared to put his full weight on it. The fortuneteller was old and wrinkled, and he couldn’t quite tell if the teller was a man or a woman. The teller looked sleep deprived and constantly looked around, as if he were scared that someone were following him or looking for him. “Hello,” he said in a quiet voice, “I am Arailia.” “Uh, goodmorning ma’am—” He started to say, but Arailia interrupted him “Ahh, you’re looking for something, aren’t you?” Arailia said in a quite, understanding tone. He quickly nodded. “I’m looking for my little sister…” His voice trailed off a little bit. He cleared his throat and continued, “She was taken from my town a few months ago by the Belgium colonists, and I think she’s now being forced to be a slave.” He said. There was a lump in his throat, and he could feel his face becoming hot with emotion. “I see...Well it’s uhh…Great that you’re going to look for her.” She said quickly as he caressed his frail thumb along the creases of his palm and sighed. The look in his eyes made it seem like he was nostalgic for something that he had had in the past, as if she had once had a dream, but she wasn’t able to get it, and it slipped out of her hands. The Arailia gave a little sign of jealousy, and he noticed that there was a bit of hostility between the two. The Arailia look up from his hands, and said in a quiet voice, “She is close.” The look in his eye and the way his voice trailed off at the end, he knew that it was true. Arailia looked so pained, and he could just tell that the fortuneteller had not received similar news about what she had been looking for. His face lit up as he heard this news, as it was what he has been waiting for since he set off on his journey. He asked excitedly, “Do you know where she is? How can I find her?” He couldn’t contain his happiness, and he could tell that it hurt Arailia, but right then he didn’t care. He was sitting on the edge of his seat; his eyes wide with excitement, emotions bubbling up inside of him, feeling like news that he was about to hear decided his fate of him and his sister. Arailia paused, sighing a bit. He then realized how much he had hurt the fortuneteller. He felt a little bit of tension, so he broke the gaze that he had with the Arailia. He glanced to the window for a brief moment, and he saw his sister! He only got a quick glimpse of her, but he could have sworn it looked exactly like her. She turned her head immediately, then someone walked in front of her. He wasn’t sure if it was her or if he was just imagining it just because he wanted it so bad, like a mirage of some sort. His heart was racing, all he wanted to do was sprint outside and find her, and he knew that he would do whatever it takes to get to her, even if that meant endangering his own life. He stood up abruptly, pulling out coins out of his pants and messily trying to find the exact change to pay Arailia for her fortunetelling. His adrenaline rush was only increasing, which made it hard to concentrate, and as his fingers fumbled, several coins dropped. He picked them up off the floor then jumped up, his entire body jittering with exhilaration. He could feel time running out, and he just didn’t have time to deal with the coins. He tossed them on the counter, and as they hit they made a loud clanging noise, which startled Arailia. In a soft and almost scared voice, she mumbled some words that he couldn’t understand, as he was already running out the door, trying to avoid all of the chairs that were in the way of him. Once he finally made it to the door, he turned around for a quick moment, and he saw the fortuneteller looking with longing eyes at him, a tear making it’s way down the fortuneteller’s old figure. Guilt bubbled up from under him, creating a lump in his throat. He was so driven to find his sister that he had hurt so many people, like his mother for leaving him like everyone in their family had in some way and Arailia. Neither of them deserved to be hurt like this, and he knew that it was wrong for him to have done this, but he knew that if he hadn’t left to find his sister, she would be all that he could think about, and he would be overcome with sadness for losing her, like he lost his brother and father. Emotions overwhelmed him, swarming up through him. He is being torn between guilt and the feeling of necessity to go after his sister. He ran around the town, pushing past people, looking all around him, trying to find his sister. Realization hit him; if he couldn’t find his sister, then he had wasted all of this time looking for her, and hurt Arailia and his mother for nothing, and he would be lost. He had reached desperation, and all that could help him would be to find her.

Nathan Laviste

Stroll in the Park

After the meeting ended, Camillus and I made our way to one of the nearby parks that was located towards the heart of Rome. The trees were dressed in leaves of various colors, and the calm, steady air took the leaves and danced the afternoon away. It was a fairly small area that was surrounded by massive pieces of ingenious architecture, some in construction. A large patch of grass lay in the center of the round trail surrounding it. As we followed the circular trail, I glanced over my left shoulder and studied Camillus. He was 65yearsold, he had a beard as white as snow, and the white hair on his head was planted on either side, which created a canal of his baldness through the middle. The top of his cranium came up to the side of my neck. His poor legs were like worn out, feeble pillars supporting a heavy second floor. His small steps forced me to stop for him frequently. Finally, we came across a bench, and we seized the opportunity. “I hate walking,” he said under his breath as he planted his buttocks on the wooden seat. He was a little irritable when it came to any sort of physical activity. I sat next to him, and that’s about all we did for thirty seconds. “Camillus, do you think it’s wrong to ask someone to give something up that they’re truly passionate about?” I asked him. I needed the advice, and this man was really the only person I could approach to retrieve some. “You’re talking about Galileo, aren’t you Angelino? Why are you always so worried about what other people might think of you?” “I’m his cousin, I grew up with him, and most of the time, he truly cares about my opinions. If I ever told him to let go of science, he would hate me.” “You don’t know that,” his voice rose a little. “Think of the church, you know what Antonius does to heretics. Approaching Galileo about it would save his life.” “Asking him to take science away from him would be like asking to give up his life.” I glanced into his eyes. He gave me a stern look. “I think I’m ready to get up and walk again.” I rose, took his plump, red hands, and pulled him up. We covered about half of the trail until he finally said to me, “Angelino, have you ever considered the fact that maybe you’re not only worried about Galileo.” He was being very serious. That’s one thing I liked about Camillus; he was incredibly honest. But at the same time, this same trait that he had was a reason why I sometimes disliked him. One could say that he was brutally honest. Camillus was the sort of man that would tell you his opinions without the slightest care about how you felt. “What do you mean? What else can I worry about?” I had a feeling he was about to say that my mind would automatically deny. “Yourself. It seems to me that you’re not too much worried about Galileo’s feelings, but more about what he would say and do to you.” He was being straighter up with me as I had hoped. You would expect that from a man like Camillus. “That’s ridiculous! I care very much for my cousin, more than you would ever know! How could you make such an assumption?” I knew I was the one that looked ridiculous at that point, but I was still offended. “If you’re going to react like that to my opinions, you shouldn’t ask me for one in the first place.” He didn’t yell, but I could still tell that he was annoyed by the sound of his tone. He didn’t seem surprised of my reaction though. Due to his nature, he was probably already used to it. We walked on for a little longer in silence. I felt guilty and embarrassed at the same time. I guess I denied the fact that I was being a little selfish simply because it was true. I didn’t enjoy seeing myself as selfish. “Ok Camillus, I apologize. Maybe you’re assumption could really be a cause for all this worrying and hesitation.” Acceptance: one of the most eyeopening and humiliating processes. “Look, as your old friend, I honestly recommend that you tell Galileo. If he doesn’t take it very well, then give him the consequences. If he hates you for it, then let it be. At least you made the effort, and in the end if something terrible does happen to him, then grieve. But don’t allow yourself to grieve from guilt, but instead know that you actually tried to help him.” We finally finished one lap around the park. One lap around the park was enough exercise for a whole day for men our age. The wind moved the small white hairs on the top of our heads, and gave a small chill at the back of our necks as we said our farewells and take cares. I stood in the park as I watched Camillus slowly heading in the direction of his home. I tried to take in the conversation that we just had. As right as my friend was about what I was supposed to do, I couldn’t fully accept it. Not necessarily because I didn’t agree with it, mostly because I didn’t want to agree with it. The truth was not pretty for me, and denial seemed to be it’s only solution. I took one last glance at the little park. I watched the floating leaves dance with the wind, as they were when we first entered. I inhaled one more breath of the scent of cedars and pines. I caught a glance at two boys chasing each other in the field. They looked like close friends, or brothers. It reminded me of Galileo and me as children. We had a very strong relationship with each other growing up. We looked out for each other. I couldn’t imagine him hating me, and I would never want to. It felt as if I was trapped behind the walls of true and false, and right and wrong. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I finally turned my back to the park, and took the first steps towards home, pondering everything over.

Shalee Murphy

The Goodbye

The forest is cool and calm and I hear birds chirping as I wind my way through the brambles and old fallen trees of past storms. Sun is shining somewhere high above the canopy of boughs stretched out above me and it makes its way down through the maze of green above, softly caressing my bare arms in small blotches. I move deeper into the seclusion of the tall pine trees, their arms spread wide, protecting me. This is my sanctuary and refuge. No one can touch me here. I come to the small clearing of long, green grass calmly situated in the frenzy of the forest––my favorite place. Moving through the grass; its long tendrils brushing against my legs, I sit down in this green sea, always welcome here without hesitation. But, I am not alone as I hear the crunch of footsteps on the forest floor. Turning around, I see the lovely, warm face of Elizabeth, a tentative smile crawling across her face. “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?” She is the last person I want to see right now. It will only make it harder for me to stick to my decision. “I–I’m sorry, I just need to talk to you. I knew you would be here.” Of course she would know where to find me. This forest had been the first place we had meat. Accidentally coming across each other one cool, crisp, autumn day, I instantly liked her. “I don’t want to talk. I can’t.” I turn away and look across into the darkness of the trees in front of me. America joined the fight against the Axis Powers three years ago and ever since my father’s death in the fall of 1943, I had been planning to join the war. Elizabeth cannot change my mind now. I knew this would be an issue but I was hoping she would just accept it. Obviously that is not that case. “Francis, you can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Her voice escapes her lips, calm but pleading. “Elizabeth, you know I can’t stand to stay here any longer. This is my only choice.” “But that’s just it, it’s not your only choice. You don’t have to leave, you don’t have to go to war.” Her long dark hair falls down over her shoulders framing her youthful face and her beautiful hazel eyes gaze hard into mine, searching for another answers to my leaving. “I’ve already made my decision. I’m not going to change my mind now. You know me. You know I won’t change my mind. It’s better for everyone if you just accept it.” “Stop saying that Francis! You can still decide to say. My father already offered you a job, you can still have a life here. A life with me.” I pause before speaking and the forest, so full of life and potential, fills the gap in our conversation. It accepts our presence, a beautiful setting for our unfortunate discussion. “I have to get away. My father is dead, my mother can hardly even function. And my sister, me little sister who used to be so happy and free cries herself to sleep every night.” The tears that I have managed to hold back begin to stream down Elizabeth’s face. Her lovely, beautiful face. Why is it always so hard with her? I know I lover her but even that can’t convince me. There is too much sadness to stay. “You know Francis, you know what you are? I’ll tell you.” She pauses and I can see her stop, thinking. Her features become unyielding, determination overwhelming her face. I know what she is about to say will be harsh and brace myself. “You’re a coward. You’re a lowly coward.” “Elizabeth, please, don’t–” “Don’t what? I’m only telling you the truth. You know it’s the truth.” All I can do it sit in silence. It consumes the whole forest. The low rustle of the wind softly moving along the forest floor fades away. The birds seem to stop singing their melodies of coming spring. Silence shrouds us both. Elizabeth moves and sits down beside me. I slowly turn to her. She stare’s ahead; her bottom lip quivering and her soft features are filled with a sadness I never want to see again. “Elizabeth, you know I care for you–I love you. Please understand.” I speak softly, hoping–willing her to understand. “I want to stay for you but you know I can’t. I need to do this for myself. I am finally doing something for myself. Just this once.” “I understand wanting to get away from it all–but going to war is not the answer.” She turns to look at me and I see the love that she holds for me playing across her face “The sadness will still be here when you return. There is no way to escape from it. I know you know. And what am I supposed to do while your gone? Do you expect me to just sit around, waiting here for you? Worrying if your dead. ?” I cannot answer her. I knew it would come to this and have dreaded the moment when I would have to tell her this has haunted me for weeks. Tell her to move on and try to find someone else. I don’t want to loose her, but I know it’s selfish to expect her to wait for me. But now the moment has come. “No, I don’t expect you to wait for me. I don’t expect you to do anything for me. But, I have one request: You must move on and find someone else to love. I’m not good for you and you know it. Once I leave, please, try to forget.” It is silent again and I glance over at her. She is staring into her lap and I can see the tears flowing freely down her face, falling off her chin and making a small puddle in her cupped hands. “No,” she whispers, “No, no NO!” she screams the last; jerking her head back, up to the sky of breaches above. And then, she crumples in on her self, her body shaking with silent wails. “Elizabeth, I’m so sorry.” I slowly move close to her and lift her limp body into my arms. Holding her, stroking her soft, wavy hair as she sobs into my shoulder. We sit like this for a long time, her crying slowly ceasing. The whole forest seems to be folding in on itself and we are its center. The only thing in the world is us at this moment. It feels so good to hold her and comfort her and I want to stay here like this forever. Just us, with no other worries in the world. Finally she looks up into my face and our eyes lock. Her voice comes out in a crock. “Francis, I can promise you many things, but that is the one thing I will never do.” “Elizabeth–” She cuts me off, “I love you Francis. I cannot love anyone like I love you. It would be a lie. I will be waiting for you. I know I said I wouldn’t but I know that’s all I will be doing. Waiting. So just know that. You here me? And do me one favor while your away: Be safe.” I squeeze her closer to my chest and know that I will do nothing else than try my hardest to make it back to her in one piece. I will be leaving in a week but I am not afraid. I cannot be afraid because I must be strong for her. For my Elizabeth.

Naomi Peterson Desolate Aggravation

Ambling through the streets of Leiden Clara passed people playing bowls and drinking beer. She turned to wave to her uncle Adriaan who was standing in the shadows of the looming brick houses lining the streets. Turning back around Clara apologized as she almost ran into a man who was making his way through the streets like a lion after his prey. The crowd of people thickened as she got closer to the market. Children ran about as their mothers called out to them to stay close. The crowd was smothering. Clara was determined to make the trip brief. She would hurry to the fish market and pick up enough fish to last them the next few days for their midday meals. Then she would proceed to the provisions store and buy some butter, cheese and vegetables. Finally, squeezing out of the crowds she would enter the solitude of the bakery where she could breathe and have a meaningful conversation with the baker. This was the only part of her trips to the market that Clara enjoyed. Going to the bakery was what it must have been like if one could enter a sound proof garden of sweet tranquility in the middle of the revolt led by William of Orange thirty years before. The baker always had a ready ear. His heart was a fountain in the middle of the garden that spilled out kindness and love to anyone who was in need. His warmth was a serenity she could count on when the life of the city choked her and made it hard to breathe. Clara’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a group of girls talking and giggling. They were probably gossiping about a poor girl who wasn’t dressed as finely as they were or about some handsome boy who had been arrogant enough to wink at them as he was passing by. Clara ignored them until she heard her brother’s name mentioned. Looking over she saw Saskia in the midst of the group. Her heart sank. As much as she didn’t want to know how Saskia was corrupting Mattheus, her curiosity and love for her brother held her in her place. As she tried to listen she heard something about “his exasperatingly difficult father.” Clara couldn’t believe this. She had tried to consider other possibilities about Saskia before jumping to conclusions about her, for Mattheus’ sake. But anyone who insulted her father clearly had few, if any morals. The people of their town might step a tow out of line here and there, but to disrespect one’s elders was a rule of thumb people didn’t dare abuse. Maybe this wasn’t the case in the town Saskia had moved from. She had arrived from Sweden about a month ago and had since acquired a group of friends, rather admirers, who looked up to her as if she was some sort of goddess. They studied her every move in desperation to become more like her before another girl stole their chance at being named Saskia’s best friend. This “game” made Clara sick. The truth was, these girls who wanted so badly to be anyone but their own self had a long way to go. Every one of them had grown up in good protestant families that went to church every Sunday and had always done what they were told. Clara had heard some of their mothers talking about the bad influence Saskia had on their daughters. Lorissa had tried to stay home from church. Adelaide had neglected her own chores in order to help Saskia get out of doing hers. Each of these girls had received proper punishments for their misbehavior. It was going to take a lot for Saskia’s secular conduct to slip unnoticed by the traditional and religious people of their town. But there was an exception. One couple had managed to miss their son’s involvement with Saskia. Mattheus was a clever boy and was somehow able to keep his relationship with Saskia a secret from their parents. Only Clara knew about their associations and the seduction Saskia was inflicting upon her brother. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She just wanted Saskia to leave their town and be forgotten. She wanted everything to return to how it had been before. Clara wanted her brother to be the man God had made him to be. A chorus of gasps, followed by an eruption of giggles brought Clara out of her thoughts. She looked over in time to see Mattheus walking through the throng of people. She was about to go over to him and ask why he wasn’t at the church where he was supposed to be, when he stopped in front of Saskia, whispered something in her ear, and led her away. She winked at the cluster of giggling girls. As Saskia was turning around she caught Clara’s eye. First came the look of recognition and then a coating of challenge spread like venom through those piercing blue eyes that had clearly poisoned and captivated Mattheus. After a second, a layer was added of her conviction of victory won. Pleased, she disappeared into the crowd with Clara’s older brother. Aggravation was seeping through Clara’s skin as she watched her brother walk further into this trap that seemed so pleasing to him. If only he could be in someone else’s place right now. Then he could see that he was turning into someone he wasn’t. “Clara!” The voice made her jump. She turned to see Jacqueline, one of the girls who had been with Saskia, walking over to her with a sneer. The others followed. “I wouldn’t recommend telling your father about this. Being the daughter of such a” she paused and smiled at Lorissa, “dedicated and godly man must make it difficult to voice your problems. It’s” she paused again, “rumored that your father will do something drastic… possibly disown his own son if he finds out about Mattheus’ future plans.” Future plans? What did Jacqueline know of Mattheus’ future plans? Surely he wasn’t planning anything for himself and Saskia. But why should she listen to Jacqueline anyway? Clara was still so upset that all she could do was listen and stare as Jacqueline provoked her more and more. “You know, Clara,” Jacqueline patronized, “I really do sympathize with you and your siblings. Having a father with whom you can’t be honest, and even one who is so unforgiving towards those who don’t share his faith” “Enough, Jacqueline.” Clara had finally found her timid voice. The words spilling out of Jacqueline’s mouth proved to be bait tempting the slimy fish that was growing ever bigger inside Clara’s gut. Instead defending herself further, she turned around and made her way as quickly as possible through the mob of people towards the bakery. Looming overhead, the tall brick buildings blocked the rays of the sun from reaching her skin and alleviating the pressure. The surroundings were suffocating her. She realized there were wells of tears gathering in her eyes that were bubbling with frustration. Why did she have to keep witnessing Mattheus destroying himself? Indeed, she wanted to know about Mattheus’ life like she used to, but she didn’t want to find out about it in this way, especially since Saskia was only leading him down a path that veered away from a respectable future and would soon separate him from his own family. Even Jacqueline and the other girls knew that. Were her words about Mattheus’ “plans for the future” true?” Were they planning a way to stay together? Anything of the sort would ruin Mattheus and bring shame upon their family. But what could Clara do? As unbearable as it was to admit, Jacqueline was right. If she talked to her father, Steven, there would be no second chances for Mattheus. Her brother would be gone as soon as he found out. Mattheus’ actions were scandalous and unacceptable before marriage. Even if that were what he planned on, Steven would not ever consider consenting to his son marrying a secular girl. Finally, Clara reached the bakery. The wooden sign hanging above the door had the word “Bakkerij,” meaning bakery, engraved upon it. But it also had comfort and peace emanating out from it. Glad to be somewhere she could vent her troubles, Clara turned the handle of the door and stepped into the warm tranquility of the bakery.

Zahrah Qadir Confrontation There he was. Laughing like a child who’d just been taken to see the acrobatics of a circus. Oh, and who was he with? Amala; Salila’s younger sister. Salila, who he engaged himself to; even though he knew that I loved her. What a man. Shamelessly putting himself out there for every woman to look at. His silky black and shiny eyes, drawing them in. They don’t know what they’re in for. He’s one hell of a man and I do not mean that in a good way. Salila doesn’t deserve someone like him. She does not deserve a man who goes off with her younger sister in the market. Supposedly buying food, but instead just wasting their time away like leisurely old men. A couple weeks ago my socalled “best friend” chose to be engaged to Salila when he knew that I had feelings for her and now he’s just flirting around with her younger sister? What kind of person does that? Don’t even doubt me! I knew it wasn’t just a hangout. Do people visibly go red when their hands brush and then continue on with their laughing? No! Only couples! They are not a couple! Anyone could see that. If you swung your head around to take even just one glance, you had proof of all the disapproving aunties and uncles. I could see them all regarding the two with looks of anger and disappointment. Boy and girl relationships were looked down on here. The only exception was if they were engaged or already married. Again, just trying to make a point, they are not in that type of relationship with each other. All they were sent to do was buy vegetables and fruit. That only takes about an hour. But here I am, sent by their fathers to go look for them since they haven’t returned for about 6 additional hours. The sun had already set! Are they blind? They haven’t even filled one basket. Fools! I couldn’t take out the anger that was pooling inside of my body. It took so much resistance to slow my pace to a brisk walk over to where Nihar was standing. I could have sworn that I slammed into at least a dozen other shoppers in that market before I reached him and put a hand on his shoulder, whirling him around to face me. “What are you doing?” I regarded him with a dangerous look. “Why do you care?” he questioned back. That just angered me even further. “Do you have any idea of what time it is? Shouldn’t you be at home resting? Or at least preparing for a wedding ?” I felt a slight twinge of regret as I said this. Out of the corner of my eye, I had caught a small downward twitching of Amala’s face. I wanted to think that she disapproved of her sister want to be wed to this type of person. It was more likely though, that it was because she would be in real trouble when she returned home. “It’s none of your business. Don’t you have work to do?” he replied. He was angry. I could tell. His eyes were boring into my skull and his voice was laced with poison. I ignored his last question because I knew he only said it to get rid of me. “Of course it’s my business. I love her and you decide to marry her. Is that how you treat your ‘best friend’?” I couldn’t help but snap at him. Just what type of human is he? “I love her too! Just give up. You can’t even marry her. You know there are no inter religious marriages. You’re Muslim! Why don’t you go find another Muslim girl to put up with you? Just give her up. She’s mine now.” When the last comment left his mouth, I felt the little stick inside of me bending, on the verge of breaking the last bond holding the two ends together. I never thought he would be capable of saying something so hurtful to me. “All my life, you have been trying to rival against me. Everything we did together, you wanted to be the best, to get the first spot, to get the best prize. This is what you’re doing now. You have no intention whatsoever of ever loving Salila. You always try to get what I want! You’re just taking Salila as a trophy wife! You selfish dog!!” I could have sworn to God that I heard something snap in him. His face immediately darkened several shades and his eyes lit on fire. I did not even have time to call out his name before his hands reached out and shoved me to the ground. I felt my back hit the ground. A stone stabbed into my back and I bit my lip from crying out in pain. He shouted and his punches rained down on my body. I felt every single one land and flinched from the pain. Soon, there was shouting and I felt a relief of pressure on my body. I opened my eyes to see Amala standing over us. There were tears in her eyes. She had her hand on Nihar’s arm, the only thing holding him back from another round of assaults on my already aching body. But I knew I wasn’t spared. Nihar’s eyes were still flaming and already he was pulling away from her grip. “Why don’t you just give up? She’ll never be yours. Just admit it! She’s mine!” I was just as angry as he was and I though I hated the information that I was going to send across it just slipped. “What kind of man are you!? Talking about her as if she’s just a possession to you! She doesn’t love you! She never will! She only loves me! Even ask her! We’ve been meeting together these past nights!” At that exact moment, both of our heads turned, our anger disappearing, replaced by worry and soon fear. Amala had a look of pure distress on her, which also added to our uncomfortableness. “What’s going on here?” came a booming voice. The ground rumbled, sending vibrations up my body. Shivers racked up my spine, continuing until they reached my neck, on which the hairs then stood up. Turning my head, I saw the source of my newly found fear. Salila’s father, a large man with broad shoulders and dark smoldering eyes that could stop a charging rhinoceros in its tracks, took large swift steps toward us. I could have sworn in that instant my heart had stopped beating for a fraction of a second. His arm darted out and grabbed Amala’s arm. Without even waiting for an answer, he turned and literally dragged Amala behind him back in the direction of his house. As soon as I saw her back I felt a sharp sting on the left side of my face and my vision was sent spinning. I cried out as my whole body went slamming down into the dirt below. “How dare you bring this shame upon our family?” My father’s voice was dangerously low and I could hear it shake in anger. “Is this how I brought my son up? To steal the happiness from family friends known since birth? How can you call yourself a selfrespected man? No virtues. No morals. No brain.” I had no answer. To hear this from your own father is like a stab in your heart. I knew I deserved it, but I couldn’t help feeling an overwhelming sense of letdown. At that point I felt like everything was just not worth it. I wanted to die. I swore that from the balcony of Nihar’s extravagant home was Salila standing there. It gave me small comfort, in an odd, perverse sense. She would always crave for me. Always me.

Gabrielle Richmond

The Visit “No, I don’t want to go today,” my father says in his ‘I’mtiredquitbotheringme voice.’ “Pleeease Aba! Why not?” I continue to pester him. “I’ve had a bad day; spending the rest of it in a cemetery would only make it worse.” “What about Ima? Maybe it’ll make you feel better to visit her…” “Neta, don’t you dare pull that guilt trip on me. How many times do I have to tell you? I won’t go and that’s final. Maybe next time.” I can tell he’s upset now so I decide to leave him alone. “Fine,” I say, “I’ll go by myself then.” Ever since my Ima’s sickness took her away from me, I’ve visited her grave every three month anniversary of her death. I call her by the name ‘Ima’ because that is the word for mother in Hebrew, just as ‘Aba’ means father. Sometimes Aba comes with me, maybe every other trip. It’s not very far, but that’s always his excuse. It’s only about a half an hour via bicycle, but I know it’s just because he doesn’t want there to be any chance that I’d see him cry. My Aba is generally pretty quiet, but when he’s hurting he’s even more quiet that usual. He thinks he needs to be the strong one of us two, so he’s embarrassed when it’s me who has to be the one to comfort him. The first couple visits I took to Ima’s grave were tough and I was a total wreck. Now I’ve gone so many times that I can handle myself okay. It’s not that I’m used to it, one will never get used to having lost someone close to him or her, but I can at least hold it together. Death comes up in conversation between Leoni and I every so often. Leoni Maier has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We can talk about anything. It’s not an awkward subject for us because she too lost a loved one. Her baby brother died after just a few shorts months of living when Leoni was only 3 years old. We both have our own opinions about death. Leoni believes that maybe it’s better that way, her situation, where her brother died before she got the chance to know him and develop a strong sort of closeness. She thinks it’s easier to go on that way. I completely disagree. I mean, if Ima died, say giving birth to me, that’d be just awful. Of course it’s horrible either way, but at least I had a mother for 7 years. I can’t imagine living never knowing my Ima. Leoni understands my point of view but she says she wouldn’t know what to do with her life if that were her condition. I know Mr. and Mrs. Maier don’t talk about it at home with Leoni. They never really have so she gets a little weird during these kinds of conversations. The 4mile or so bike ride to the cemetery is always the same for me. I always go the same route and I always have a lot going on in my head. Also, I always stop at the beautiful garden I pass by on the way. There, I pick a single flower every time to place at the foot of Ima’s grave. And yes, it’s always just one flower; I find it more meaningful that way, although I’m not sure why. It’s just what I’ve always done. It really is a peaceful ride and the perfect time to think about the things I never really get to at home, like my mother; she doesn’t come up much in conversation with my father for reasons I mentioned before. But that’s okay with me; I’d rather remember her in a more relaxed environment anyways. When I arrive at the cemetery, I place the flower in the same spot as usual. I recite Mourner’s Kaddish, the prayer of the dead. I’ve got it memorized after years of practice. “Yitgadal yitkadash shmeh raba…” I’ve said these words so many times now that they just kind of flow out my mouth. Towards the end, there are body motions that go along with the words. “Oseh shalom bimromav,” three steps backwards; “hu ya’aseh shalom,” bow to the right; “aleinu v’al kol yisrael,” bow to the left; “vi’imru amen,” bow forward, then three steps forward, done. I take a seat on the grass. It’s pretty nice out today for March, must be at least 20º Celsius. As weird as this may sound, sometimes I talk to Ima while I sit there. I know I’m not actually talking to her. I probably look pretty stupid sitting there talking to a chunk of stone, but sometimes I feel like maybe, just maybe, she can hear me. Also, it’s kind of nice to think aloud every so often. It gives me a chance to put my thoughts into words and to say the things I couldn’t bring myself to say aloud before. For example, to let my mother know how much I appreciate every little thing she did for me even when I may have not seemed to care, to tell her how much I miss her, or on the days that I don’t have much to say, just to give her some updates on life at home with Aba. It’s still light out but around 7 o’clock I decide to call it a day. I’m tired and I should get back for supper. It’s been awhile since Aba and I have eaten together. My full name is Netanya Chava Seidel. I just go by Neta though. My first name means “gift of god.” Before she died, my Ima told me that I was like a gift because not many people have babies at the age she had me, as it is more dangerous than having a child at a younger age. She had me when she was 39. My middle name means “life.” I attend Lindau Montessori in Lindau, Germany. I live with my father, Martin, and my aunt, Bina Eliav. Bina is my mother’s twin sister. She moved in with us when Ima got sick and continued to live with us after she died. She’s been really great over these past years; I’m happy she stayed with us. My Aba works at the local market. He works at the vegetable stand. When the new veggies arrive, he places the good stuff out front on display for the townspeople to buy and disposes of the bad stuff. According to Aba, it’s a pretty boring job and the hours are tough. He has to work almost every day, all day; and the pay isn’t much, but it’s enough for us to get by all right. It’s also nice because sometimes when we’re running low on food he can bring some home from the market. His boss is pretty nice about it. Although we don’t really practice the religion, I am Jewish. My mother was Jewish, my father’s Jewish; therefore, I’m Jewish. I think my mother was more proud of this than my father is. He tells me that this is the worst time to live in being Jewish. There’s a strong force in Germany, called the Nazis, who don’t like anybody but people like them; people that are blond and blueeyed and practice the Christian religion. They’re not very accepting of ‘different’ people. They especially don’t like Jews. I’d never want to hide who I am, but I don’t know much about Judaism so I guess this doesn’t really bother me too much. Ever since my Ima died, we haven’t celebrated any Jewish holidays. Aba refuses to, he says there’s no point of it. I guess he just went along with them for my mother before. He said it doesn’t help out situation. When he says this, I ask, “What exactly is our situation?” He says it’s hard to explain, that I wouldn’t understand, and that he’ll explain it to me another day; but he never does. He always avoids these kinds of questions. Aunt Bina is the one who’s told me about the Nazis not liking different people. Honestly though, I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. Why are they any better than us? My confusion won’t do anything though. I wish I knew more so I could help. Bina tells me that we’re in the middle of a war, World War II. Luckily there isn’t as much of these problems where I live in Germany, but apparently it’s pretty bad on the mainland.

Evan Saunders The Meeting at 10 Babbage and I enter the room and are met by the many stares of the committee. No one moves. Finally, the head advisor Greg Sylvester gestures for us to sit down. Sam glances around at the room. It’s filled with pictures of what looks like people who were head advisors or presidents of the committee. Babbage clears his throat. “So” said Babbage. “How’s it going?” This by far is the most awkward and unintelligent thing he could say. Everyone in the room was giving him the death stare. Even Greg was a little irritated by Burbage’s remark. A man in a white and blue suit whispers something to the man next to him. By the looks of his expression I’m guessing it was something about Burbage, and it was something good. I glance at the clock, it read 10:47, the meetings only 2 minutes in and yet it seems like we’ve been here for an hour. Finally Greg interrupts the stares. “Gentlemen, you said you wished to show us something?” Said Greg. “ Ah yes of course” Replies Babbage as he pulls out his blueprint. “This is it gentlemen, I believe I have finally invented a way to program and save data on to computers” exclaims Babbage proudly. “ I believe that we can program our computers to do much more then just multiply and subtract. We can program the computer to save data within a hard drive thus letting us program different software’s into the computer” Explains Babbage. The man in the blue and white suit stands up. “ Ridiculous, just based on blue you have come up with and some small mathematical calculations you conclude that by making a hard drive we will be able to save large amounts of data on to a computer!” Babbage angered by this remark tries to stay calm. “ Yes I do, if you examine my idea closely you will see that there isn’t a logical explanation why this won’t work. Out of all the ideas I have tried this one is the only possible solution" Says Babbage Another man has now stood up, obviously someone who is not fond with Babbage or his idea. “ Impossible, how do expect to build a hard drive big enough to be considered a computer. No business I know of is going to use a computer that doesn’t even fit in there office! This man is crazy! And to prove it he has a stupid kid as his assistant!” Says the man” Now they’ve drawn the line. I haven’t said a word and they immediately assume that I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know anything about computers. I’m not even a kid!! I’m almost 20 years old. I’m sorry if I’m not the only one lingering close to their deathbed. But that gives him no right to assume that I’m stupid. I try to keep my cool but I can’t help remarking at his comment. “ Is he? Is he crazy, or is it just the fact that he finally comes up with a valuable answer and you are just too ashamed that you didn’t come up with this idea first. You all know that there is a possibility that this could work, but none of you have the courage to step up and side with us!” Now there pissed. Suddenly all 23 committee members stand up out of there seats and start yelling remarks at us from across the table. All we can do is sit and watch as one by one they give us a piece of their mind. Even so, I was quite proud of what I had said and I could see the slightest smile emerging on Babbage’s face.

Jake Scherf A Leap of Faith “Thompson get up, no question soldier.” ordered spc. Keller. John quickly sprung out of bed, and began to put on his Marineissue camouflage. “No, no soldier, you won’t be needing those today. Tshirt and sweats only Thompson, we’re heading out to Lochmann’s point for training.” “What the hell’s Lockmann’s point?” John asked himself aloud. “What did I tell you about questions corporal? Put your Ghillie in your pack, we’ve got a long walk.” responded Keller as he passed John to the other end of the tent. John wasn’t sure where Lochmann’s point was, judging knew by the reactions of the other soldiers that it was not going to be a place to mess around with. The other men had stern expressions and some carried themselves with an air of anxiousness, even the veteran snipers. “What’s this Lochmann’s point all about, Gary?” whispered John out of the corner of his mouth as he slipped his socks on and laced his boots. “It’s a training facility, one of the most difficult parts of training here. They’re going to try and break you John, because remember you aren’t just a sniper for the Marines anymore, you are an asset to the United States, a bank of top secret information, a spy. It’s not a joke John, if you leave, they’ll kill you. You’re in it now, and you aren’t leaving.” responded Gary, as he packed up his Springfield rifle, and walked out of the tent. John began to question how much he really wanted to be in the Scout Sniper program, and if it was worth it. After all, he only joined so that he and Gary could be together in the Marines. But like Gary had just said, there was no chance of turning back now, not when he had already been briefed on several critical missions about to take place in the Pacific, in less that a month. It would be one of the Marines’ final attempts to end the second world war, a war that had begun to tear this country apart. He finished packing his bag, and stepped out of the tent. It was barely dawn, but John saw the faint outline of the sun on the horizon to the East, towards the ocean. It was warm already, and the sun was just going to make it worse. By midday it would be like all hell had opened up, with July temperatures climbing well over 90 degrees, with nearly 95 percent humidity. South Carolina’s weather in the summer was quite possibly the most demanding physically in the United States. The men just thanked god they were not near the ocean, although being at over 3000 feet in altitude did not help either. In these conditions, the men needed to drink at least a halfgallon of water every 6 hours, to stay properly hydrated. They each had to carry a one gallon bottle full of water on their backs, but other than that, the snipers packed light. In each of their packs was a specialist’s knife, a woodland Ghillie, one flare gun with 2 red flares, one antipersonnel bouncing betty, the marineissue M1911 handgun attached to a ankle holster, and a pair of binoculars, with their sniper on their back. In total it was about 55 pounds, but it was much better than the nearly 80 pound load the infantrymen had, excluding their weapons. They packed light so they could disappear when needed; they were ghosts. The men began to walk toward a rather large ravine, at the end of the valley. They were surrounded by towering American Birch trees, their white trunks creating some rays in the endless darkness of the forest on each side of the valley. They waded through the crimson holly bushes, their leaves pricking the fabric on their legs, but never cutting. The sun had begun to rise now, and the group had been moving for about five minutes. They were a halfmile from their camp at the ridge, and about two miles from the Base camp, which was twenty miles from Northern Charleston, SC. John began to feel his stomach turn, and once again wondered what he was getting into. He wasn’t ready for this, he didn’t sign up for the fighting, he signed up to be with Gary. That’s it. “How much further in this mess of bushes are we going, sir?” asked a member of the squad to Keller. “About another half a mile, then we will hit the river, and shit gets real interesting.” He responded, chuckling to himself. The men walked for another five minutes or so, until Keller yelled out, “We made it through the valley with the bunnies, ladies! Now it’s time to get messy with it!” He reached down and grabbed a chunk of grass, appearing to be struggling to pull it out of the ground. “Need some help, sir?” asked Thompson. It didn’t occur to Thompson that this statement would make Spc. Keller feel inferior, and weak, because in the Marines everything is about pride and honor. Disrespect someone’s pride, and you’ve got a mess. Disrespect a commanding officer’s pride, and you were just asking to be whooped. “What did you just say to me Corporal?” barked Keller, with beads of sweat dripping down his now extremely red face. “I just thought maybe you were, were, maybe you needed some–“ “Shut the hell up and tear this up yourself then moron! Get over here, NOW!” “Yes, Sir.” replied Thompson. “Now you pull on this here patch of grass until it comes out of the ground, you read me Corporal?” commanded Keller. “Yes, sir I read you loud and clear.” John pulled at the grass, and by now he had no clue what to expect. It didn’t budge, but he could feel that it was attached to something under it, something heavy. He heaved for five minutes, with no progress. He was about to give up, when the grass began to rise, along with a long creaking moan. Underneath the grass was a trap door, and looking down it all Thompson could see was a ladder, and never ending darkness. “I hope you ain’t scared of the dark, Thompson, cause you’re going first.” sneered Keller. “Yes, sir, of course, no problem.” responded John as he swung into the hole and clambered down the ladder into the unknown below him. When John had traveled about fifteen feet down the ladder, his stomach clenched with a fury. He looked down to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and his worst fear was reaffirmed; there was water. For your average kid, this would be no problem; but John couldn’t swim. He began to breath heavily, like a dog in the midsummer’s sun, and clenched the cross that dangled from his neck. This was definitely not what he had signed up for, but could he do now? Stuck between two of his greatest fears; Keller’s wrath and the fear of drowning. “What in god’s name are you waiting for Thompson? Dive in! But make sure to keep that gun dry!” ordered Keller. John took some deep breaths and remembered the last thing his grandfather Michael Thompson had said to him before he died. “I am not afraid of death, John, because I have faith. Faith is what keeps us strong. Take a leap and don’t be afraid. You need to be strong when I am gone, and don’t forget you can do anything you want to.” He grasped the cross in his left hand, and took his leap.

Rachel Sullivan

Mike

“I think he’s dead.” Kate’s little sister said with fear in her eyes. “He can’t be dead, it looks like he’s breathing.” Kate observed and looked up from his slow moving chest. She gazed at the lifeless orangebrown pine needles on the ground, and the green living ones up it the millions of evergreen trees that surrounded them. As she did this, Kate finally realized that they were sitting by the tree line of an open field that contained only long strands of grass. She knew exactly what this place reminded her of: The Main, her playfield back home in Illinois. “Sir, sir are you okay?” Mary, Kate’s mother asked as she tried to wake him up while also bringing Kate back from her thoughts. Mary shook and shook the man but he would not budge. Kate came over with some of the spare water that was in their wagon. So far they hadn’t used much of the necessities they had brought for the trail. With her smooth young hands she poured the lukewarm water from the cup onto the man’s scraggly face, and when she did, little beads of water formed on his long beard and pale eyelashes. In a blink of an eye, the man who looked to be in his early forties woke up screaming about something Kate’s ears could not decipher. “MY…MY…MY DAUGHTER!” the man cried over and over. But to Kate and the whole family’s ears it just sounded like gibberish. “Shhh, shush. Keep quiet for now. It looks to me like you’ve been unconscious for days.” As comforting as always, Kate’s mother tended to the man. She ripped a piece of cloth off of her tattered beige shirt, dipped it in the extra water that Kate had brought and then gently wiped the dirt and grass stains off his face. “Ma, what are we going to do with him? Is he healthy? Or just at least healthy enough to come with us to Portland?” Kate asked. “Kate, I don’t know right now. As far as I can tell he doesn’t look very healthy. He may have some sort of disease.” “Oh, but can we take him with us?” “I don’t know yet. If he does have a disease it’s best for all of us not to have him close. He could be contagious and make us sick too. We’ll wait for now until he calms down and then we’ll ask him some questions.” Kate saw the worry in her mother’s eyes when she said this. She knew her ma incredibly well. This man was not doing great and Kate could tell her mother knew that. For the first time since they saw the man, Kate realized that her father was right behind her. She wondered why he was extremely quiet. Pa did not handle bad situations well, especially when death was on the line. She would have never guessed that her Pa would be the one in the family to have this weakness. As she continued to look up and over her shoulder trying to make eye contact with her distant father he refused. But Kate did get a quick glimpse of a sparkle in his eye that might have been a tear. To her surprise she saw his mouth start to open, mimicking the motion that would be if he were going to speak. “He’s so fragile,” Kate’s father, Arthur said, “We should do should do whatever we can to keep him alive and take him with us to Portland if we can.” Arthur encouraged in a coarse yet soft voice that Kate had never heard before. She liked it too. “My…daughter…” The man said in a longing voice as he calmed down. Kate saw that he opened his eyes and stared at her for a second, then a look of relief and surprise came upon his face. “Sally, Sally, Sally! You’re here and you’re alive! I’m so glad you are here with me now! I love you Sally!” “Ma…” Kate said, afraid. “Ma, what is he talking about?” “I believe he thinks that you are his daughter. Kate, tell your little sister to go back over to the wagon and wait there.” “Okay Ma. Should I go too?” “No, I want you to stay.” I’ll stay right here,” said Kate with a determined look on her face. After she told little Margaret to go back to the wagon she spoke again, “So what do we do now? Should we try to get information about him?” “Yes, I believe we should. Arthur, will you try to hold him down gently.” “Yes Ma’am.” Kate watched as her mother kindly tried to calm down the man. “Sir, do you remember your name?” “Um uh yes, it’s Dan…Daniel Michaels. People usually call me Mike. I am trying to get to Oregon.” His eyes started to tear up and the bright shining sun make a sparkle in his eyes just like the one Kate had seen in her father’s eyes. “Okay Mike. Let’s get you back up.” He started to raise his back up. But he could only do this with the help of Mary. Again Kate watched as her mother put her hand on the back of Mike and carefully gave him a boost up. Though, this only lasted for a few seconds. “Oh ouch ouch ouch ouch,” said Mike as he plopped himself back on the ground once again. “Well, I guess we can’t get you up just yet. While we’re waiting for Arthur to bring you some water why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Kate knew her mother was dying to know whether this man had a disease or not. She was hoping that he would know too. “I’m from Mississippi. No where exciting, but it has been a long journey.” “Oh really? My father lived in Mississippi a long time ago, then he brought my family and I up to Illinois. He used to say that it was one of his favorite places that he’d ever been to in his life.” There was a look of high interest in Kate’s mothers face what she was talking. She never knew how much Mississippi had influenced her mother’s life. In face, she hadn’t even known her ma had grown up there. “It’s a pretty nice place,” Mike said proudly, “I did need a new place though. The Washington Territory sounds so inviting. I’ve heard it’s the talk of the 19 th century.” Mary had a look of guilt in her eyes and Kate then knew that this man wasn’t going to make it. “So, who did you come to this lovely trail with?” “I am here with my family and two others. But when we stopped for you the others did not. We’ll catch up with them later.” Mary gave Kate a quick glance. It was time to leave. They all looked at each other once more before Mary tried to comfort Mike back to sleep. “How about you take a nice little nap and get some rest. It’ll be good for you,” said Mary. The moment his eyes closed again Mike was fast asleep. With that the Denny family packed up their water, bags and other tools that they’d taken out while they had been stopped. Then they were off to face the rest of their adventure.

Susan Tsegai

Medina

A cool breeze came in through the entrance. The leaves rustled loudly as the breeze whipped past them. Everyone had been sitting in silence for some time. They had been in the cave for a couple days now, three at the most. Finally, Akmal broke the unbearable silence. “You told no one where we are, right?” Akmal asked in a worried voice. “No, Akmal.” sighed Abu. “You need to relax more, Akmal! Stop being so paranoid.” Fadil cried. “Stop being paranoid!” exclaimed Akmal, “they will kill us if they find us here! They won’t pity us!” “Well there not going to find us in the first place,” replied Jamal, “our secret is safe with Asma and ‘A’ishah.” “What if they tell, what if they threaten and beat them, do you think they will keep their mouths shut after that, or what about ‘Abdullah, or the servant, what was his name?” rambled Akmal. “Amir,” replied Abu. “They will not tell anyone where we are, I trust them and so should you. If you don’t want to be here no one is forcing you to stay, but if you step out of this cave you need to understand that if they do capture you, they will kill.” He added in a strict voice. “Abdullah was Abu’s son, and Asma and ‘A’ishah were his two daughters. ‘Abdullah spent his days in Makkah listening in to what the Quraysh said and plotted against Muhammad and then reported back to the group at night. A day or two had passed; everyone was getting weary of the cave and wanted to get out. They were all starting to feel like prisoners, trapped here forever. “I’m…” started Akbar. “Shush!” exclaimed Jamal in a whisper, “do you hear that?” From inside the cave they heard loud voices. Everyone freezed. They recognized the voices. They belonged to two men from the Quraysh clan. They were questioning a man, probably a shepherd from the sound of it. They all didn’t move, they didn’t even dare to breathe. They heard the sheperd answer another question. No, none of them moved, the shepherd had just told the two men to check the cave. “ What are we going to do? If they come in here they will see us!” panicked Abu The voices were getting much closer, the only thing that was separating the group and the two men were the branches and bushes covering the entrance. They all stood frozen, this was it, they had all met their end they thought. “There not in here,” said one of the quraysh men, “I mean look at the entrance it’s covered in bushes and branches.” “I don’t know, maybe we should check.” Replied the other man. “Come on, let’s go, we’re wasting our time! There’s no way they could have gotten though that.” Replied the first man. “Okay, whatever you say, I guess.” replied the second man, in a not so sure voice. The two men then started to leave. From inside the cave they heard the steps getting further and further. “Do you think they’re gone?” asked Akbar. “Shush!” they all exclaimed “What if they are hiding in the bushes somewhere just trying to trick us!” whimpered Akmal. “No, they are gone.” Said Abu as he looked through a small peek hole through the entrance. “Phew that was close huh.” Said Jamal. “Yeah sure was.” Agreed Fadil. Akbar and Fadil were sitting against the wall, while Akmal was off mumbling to himself against a corner. Jamal left them and went closer to the entrance of the cave. The cool nights breeze felt good against his face. When will this all be over, he thought. He had only agreed to help protect Muhammad, not imprison himself inside a cave. “Abu, we need to leave tonight.” Said Muhammad, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Alright, when ‘Amir comes I will tell him to go back and get us camels and provisions.” Replied Abu. Everyone waited in silence for a couple of hours until sundown. “Do you think he will be here soon?” asked Jamal “Yes, he always comes at the usual time.” Replied Abu Just then they heard a crack of a twig being stepped on. Chirp, Chirp someone called. “As I was saying,” said Abu, as he was about to return the call. The chirping of a bird was a signal they made up. They agreed that whenever ‘Amir came they would signal each other, just to be on the safe side. “Well did you find anything knew?” asked Muhammad as ‘Amir walked into the cave. “No, it’s still the same old same old.” Replied ‘Amir. “Well that’s much help.” Mumbled Fadil. “Well it doesn’t matter much now anyways,” replied Abu, “I need you to bring us back camels and provisions as fast as you can. We are leaving tonight.” “Tonight!” exclaimed ‘Amir, “Don’t you think that’s a little early? I mean how am I supposed to get back with all that by myself?” “Tell Asma that she is to bring the provisions, she will help you, ‘Amir listen to me, you have to do this, we are all counting on you.” Said Abu “Alright, I’ll come back as fast as I can.” ‘Amir replied. “Do you really think that we will be able to travel far overnight without the Quraysh catching us?” Jamal asked as ‘Amir walked out of the cave. “We don’t have much choice.” Replied Muhammad In less then an hour ‘Amir was back with the camels and Asma had brought the provisions as planned. They all boarded the camels and their bags. They were one camel short so Akmal had to ride with Fadil and ‘Amir was coming with them for extra protection. They all said their good byes and thanks to Asma and were ready to start their journey to Medina.

Lydia Vanderburg

Brass Buttons In the days since the Force arrived, the whole village had been walking on eggshells. The soldiers of the Force de Publique, stolid and sturdily built, stalked the bare dirt streets of the village, glaring sharply around mud walls at anything that moved too quickly. They were mercenaries, hired from other regions of Africa, far from the world that Elhim’s eleven years had seen. Most of the village people stayed in their homes when they were not silently going about work in the manioc field or the rubber plantations. The rough dirt streets were bare of the regular townspeople; women sweeping the top layer of dust off their dirt yards and men lugging fish, latex, tools and other goods through the village, sweat beading on the sides of their faces. Instead the atmosphere was tense and acrid, and a thick layer of silence encased the village, making Elhim edgy. He had already returned from work with the rubber trees for the day. After days without going anywhere but his home and the plantation, Elhim was restless, and had decided to go into the square. Now he wished he’d stayed home. The square was completely empty. No one from the village had ventured into what was now considered a war zone between Belgian and Congolese. The houses on either side of the community hut, where the Force had settled, were devoid of life. The other houses around the square were quiet. The square looked stark and blank, like the seamless dull blue sky above, the afternoon sun leaving few shadows on the fine, light colored dirt that was the floor of the plaza. Even the twittering birds roosting in the towering kapok tree, flashing their gaudily bright colored feathers, seemed more subdued than usual. Elhim paced slowly through the plaza, small puffs of dust rising around him, his head tipped back to study the forest canopy far above and around him. The village may be lifeless, but the forest never slept. He watched birds soaring over his head, flocks of the tiny yellow ones with long tails, and large, single toucans flapping less than gracefully through the gap of sky above him. The giant limbs of the forest’s mammoth trees spanned far across the village, so that even with the absence of trees within the village, there was little space above where a tree branch did not hang. From the branches hung wide, heavy leaves, as well as the knotted vines which spiraled around tree limbs and hung to the ground. Tracking an interestingly colored bird across the expanse of sky above him, Elhim almost ran into the small figure before him. Luckily he caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye, and looked down in time to stop before he hit the young boy, wearing a neat, blue cloth shirt with small brass buttons... and white skin. Elhim jumped and hurriedly backed away, glancing over both shoulders. Were men of the Force around him? Was this a trap? Would the Belgian officer burst out of the community house any moment, demanding to know what was going on? But no one else was in the plaza. He and the boy were alone. He looked back at the child before him. The boy was younger than him, with fair skin, fairer hair, and dark blue eyes. Beneath his blue shirt, which looked terribly heavy and hot, he wore straight black trousers, wrinkled and creased but still undeniably sharplooking. Elhim realized this was the boy he’d glimpsed when the Force first arrived, held by the hand by one of the Force members. “Play?” the boy asked brightly, tipping his head to the side endearingly. Elhim stared. He spoke slurred but undeniably accurate Kilanga. This was the officer’s son – the man who had to have a translator himself had a boy who spoke the native tongue? Elhim’s head spun. “Want to play?” the boy asked again, smiling. Without replying, he shook his head, turning, and started to walk quickly away. “Why not?” the boy called after him. Elhim stopped and turned to look at the little boy. “Because you’re white… And I’m Congolese,” he said simply, shrugging. The boy shrugged. “So?” “So, I hate you.” Elhim turned again, determined to leave before something happened. At any moment, a Force member could appear from behind a house, accuse him of kidnapping the boy, anything. “Oh,” the boy said slowly. “I like you,” he offered. Elhim stopped in his tracks. “You can’t,” he replied, bewildered, and turned to face the Belgian boy again. “But I do.” They stared at each other for a moment, which stretched on. Neither of them looked away, focused on the other’s eyes. Elhim heard the birds he had been watching earlier, still chirping far above his head. Suddenly he thought he heard a voice behind him. Elhim whirled, but the plaza was still empty and silent. “Hah!” the boy proclaimed. “I’ve won!” Elhim turned to him, confused. “Won?” “The staring contest!” “We weren’t having a contest.” “Yes we were!” “No…” “If we weren’t, why didn’t you look away? I won!” he proudly repeated. Again, Elhim heard something, this time clearer, and closer – a voice, calling out in heavily accented French. A Force soldier. Elhim quickly turned to go. “Wait! Stay!” the boy cried. Elhim stopped, but didn’t turn. “We can’t be friends,” he repeated, not looking back. “We already are,” the boy said. Elhim glanced over his shoulder to see the boy’s pink lips turn up in a smile. But he was already hurrying away, stumbling a bit as his body reacted to a situation his mind couldn’t yet comprehend. Turning around the corner of a house he broke into a trot, then a run, distancing himself from the strange boy and the sound he had known was a Force soldier. When he neared the edge of the forest, far from the plaza, Elhim slowed and stopped. For a moment he just stood there, panting slightly, staring off into the dark forest of trailing vines, towering trees, and mysterious beasts. And yet, this was home. The muted yowls of jungle cats, the green darkness and the slithering pythons, this was normal. What had happened today wasn’t. An officer’s boy speaking barelyaccented Kilanga, lonely for a friend. A village of Congolese, most of them bearing a fierce hatred to everything he was, and all of them currently very afraid. And now there was Elhim – seemingly stuck in the middle. They couldn’t be friends. They just couldn’t. It went again every memory and rule that Elhim knew. But then… what had the boy said? “’We already are.’”

Nathan Winningham

The Plan

The cold air of the mountain wrapped around my fingertips. I was a hundred yards from the top of the mountain. I knew this was it. My whole mission lead up to this point. The United States could not take “I’ve failed” as an answer I had to get the information. I walked the next few yards with my stomach turning inside out. My head was spinning with the possibilities of failing. I had to convince myself that I was going to succeed, but the chance of failing the mission wouldn’t leave. I heard someone murmur next to me. I looked to my right and saw the tan face of my Italian partner Ermanno. He was wearing a snowwhite ghilli suit zippered up to the midpoint of his neck. His hands were covered with a pair of white gloves, but his feet were covered with a pair of the black Italian boots. “What did you say?” I whispered to Ermanno “This is it. We have to do it.” “Thanks man, that really helps out” I replied. I looked down at my white suit and took Ermanno’s words to heart. I always knew everything would come down to this point. I walked the last 5yards through the two foot snow and set down the heavy backpack. Inside the pack was a 50 caliber Springfield Sniper Rifle. I had twenty bullets in four cartridges spread around the bottom of the pack. I stepped down on one knee to unzip the backpack when a heard a grunt of a man twenty meters on my right. The trees around Ermanno and I made us invisible, but the man had to be taken out. I looked up to Ermanno and he gave me a look I could identify as pure animal instinct. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins and he knew that he had to make the kill. I knew that the man would’ve heard if I stepped up the sound of my feet so Ermanno had to make the kill. Ermanno took the .44 magnum from his pocket and put it into his two hands. He took a few steps before he heard the man take steps coming toward our spot. Ermanno stopped in his tracks and croached down. He pointed the magnum to where he heard the sound and looked down the guns iron sight. In a moments notice the man will have taken his last steps and I knew it as I watched Ermanno. I felt bad for the man and his family, but he was working with the wrong man and he had to be taken out. Ermanno saw a glance of a man’s jacket and put down his pistol. I couldn’t understand what Ermanno was doing until I saw him reached for his left side pocket. He took out the night sky black knife from his pocket and took a step toward the soon to be sorry man. I had to close my eyes before Ermanno took out the man. All I heard was the last breath of the man and the slice of a knife; I sequenced my eyelids to my face and pretended like I had never heard that. I reopened my eyes and saw the dead body of a man across from me and the tan face of Ermanno talking back. He put the knife back into his knife pouch and helped me set up my Springfield. “Never done that before” Ermanno whispered to me “I’m sorry. It’s my bad that I couldn’t help you” “It’s no problem. There’s no way you could’ve moved without being heard” Ermanno replied “I just can’t believe this is all happening so fast. Just a week ago I was with my family and girlfriend in Seattle.” I said to Ermanno “So how’s the girlfriend?” Ermanno asked me changing the conversation “She’s perfect. Nicole is just everything that I wanted. She’s smart, knows what to say to make you feel better, and makes me feel different when I’m not around her. I can’t believe I’m saying this now but if we make it out I’m going to go home and propose to her” “That’s beautiful mate. What’s her last name?” I looked up to Ermanno and said with a small smile, “Smith. Nicole Smith” “Great name. Well lets finish this sniper and we can get this show on the road.” “Sounds great Ermanno. Thanks for being here”. We finished building the sniper and walked the next 20 yards up to the Edge of the cliff. Down below was the Estate. I pickup up my backpack and took out a cartage holding five sniper shots. The cartage clicked as it snapped into place in my sniper. I raised my hand to set the bolt action into place when Ermanno gripped the side of my arm. “Stop I see something.” Ermanno pointed to the back windows of the Estate. “There’s three men in there. Can you take them all out?” I chuckled at Ermanno’s comment. “What do you think I’m doing to do?” “Well I was just asking. Don’t snap at me. Hey just wondering, if there was one man in the woods you think there is more?” I looked into Ermanno’s eyes and my mouth moved before I could think of the words. “Yes” “Well lets take em’ out.” Ermanno took a stride back. He went for the knife in his pocket when we heard another noise behind us.

Lucia Wyss Keep Breathing Jonathan burst out into the street, taking deep gulps of cool midnight. His hands at his sides were balled into fists. There was a tension inside that needed release, a violent tension. He needed to hit something. He slapped his palm against a wall but it didn’t have the satisfying give of flesh, and besides, it hurt. He stalked down the empty streets, breathing heavily. The only light was from the stars, and the only sounds the sigh of the sand and the pumping of his own heart. And then ahead of him, he heard a shriek of laughter, and girls’ voices, giggling and chattering. Jonathan, in no mood to deal with a gaggle of teenage girls, paused at the corner and peered around. Sanding in a pool of light by an open door was a group of half a dozen girls, a few years younger than Ashella. They were waving goodbye to one girl who hugged her friends and started walking into the darkness, away from Jonathan, down the street. The other girls piled back into the house and shut the door. Darkness flooded the street once again, and quiet, but for the gentle scuff scuff of the young girl’s footsteps. Jonathan leaned against the wall until the footsteps faded, and then walked quietly in the opposite direction. He slouched along, fists shoved into his pocket. His spacesuit under his clothes kept off the chill of the desert night. All was quiet again, but the fierce roiling anger inside him wouldn’t allow peace. And then she screamed. A high piercing shriek that was abruptly muffled into smothered silence. Jonathan whirled on his toes and sprinted back the way he had come. There was the noise of a scuffle in a dark alley at the end of the street. Jonathan didn’t even think before charging in. His brain registered three big men, two of them holding the struggling girl. His fist registered that it was already on the way to the third man’s gut as he turned. His brain cut back in to warn him that one of the other two men was raising a blaster. He ducked under the man’s guard and pulled out the knife that he always carried tucked in his belt. He slashed at the arm holding the blaster, with one hand, and pummeled at the man’s torso with the other fist. The man was strong and sent him reeling backwards with a sweep of his free arm, but Jonathan, his fury finally boiling up and out, launched himself back, snarling, fist connecting with bone and muscle, knife slashing at thick foreign clothing and exposed flesh. And a strong, solid arm clenched around his middle and he was dragged back, off the man he was fighting with, even as he kicked backward flailing at an unseen assailant. He felt the drag as his knife ripped in to something and someone yelled. Suddenly a hand was on his wrist and twisting. Jonathan let out a squawk of pain and surprise as fire lanced down his wrist, and his knife clattered to the ground, but then the grip around his stomach relaxed, and the man released him, slumping to the ground with a thud. Jonathan barely had time to register the girl, gagged and wide eyed holding a brick, before the first man was reaching for him again, trying to grip his throat. He ducked under his arms, cradling his injured wrist close to his body. It didn’t feel broken but it throbbed as he jostled it. He headbutted the man in the stomach, for lack of a better weapon, but the man was wearing heavy leather which absorbed most of the blow. He felt the man’s hands scrabling at his back, seeking purchase on his slick spacesuit. Hooking a foot around the man’s heel, he yanked forward and the man stumbled. It was enough for Jonathan to twist free. Raising his head he saw a strip of indigo and starlight at the end of the alley. “Come on!” he called hoarsely to the girl. There was an escape open, with one man on the ground, one reeling momentarily, and one… lifting the girl off the ground and heaving her kicking and bleating against her gag. Jonathan swore, but it was more a rasp than a word. His pulse was jumping, and his breath was sharp in his throat. Exertion flushed feverish heat across his face, and he was trembling. However much he hated it, he was still not fully recovered from two weeks’ forced inaction. Something shone on the ground. It was the knife in the darkness. He scooped it up and charged at the man holding the girl. His eyes widened behind his helmet, but both his arms were occupied with the squirming girl. He didn’t hesitate – Barty had taught him never to bluff with a knife in his hand. He charged at the man, slashing the knife at his gut. It sliced cleanly through cloth and leather and the man staggered back as blood welled, dark in the starlight. The girl crashed gracelessly to the ground with a heavy grunt of pain. Jonathan snatched her arm and yanked her to her feet with sheer force. She stumbled but followed him, clutching his arm. In the mouth of the alley freedom was a breath away when a hand closed on Jonathan’s shoulder and yanked him around. It was the second man that he had merely winded. Jonathan would never have admitted to a choked sob of exhaustion and despair, but maybe it was there. But he ducked under the arm and locked his arms around the man’s neck, having no energy to do more than hold on and kick weakly at him. “Leave it Louie!” one of the other men yelled. “The girl’s got away. She’s not worth it anyway!” The man Jonathan was grappling with shoved him back hard, but Jonathan had flung a hand up and gripped the side of the man’s leather helmet. As the man pushed him away the helmet slipped. The man gave a muffled shout and grabbed for it but it came away in Jonathan’s hands and he was looking at a square face with a hawk nose and heavy brows. But the most startling feature was a puckering scar that ran from the corner of one eye, making it droop, to the corner of his mouth, making it quirk up. The mismatched eyes widened as he grabed for the helmet, then lashed out with Jonathan with a fist. Jonathan staggered back, legs feeling watery from exhertion, then turned and ran, breath searing his throat and wrist throbbing with every jostling step. He ran blindly in the dark, unfamiliar streets, but there was no sound of pursuit over the rush of blood in his ears. He stumbled to a halt, leaning against a wall. His ribs were aching, and he could taste blood in his mouth. There was a squeak sound behind him and he turned to see the girl peering around a corner at him. Her white sandrobe was ripped and dusty, and her face was smeared with dirt. Her hair hung down on either side of her face in ragged strands that had fallen from her coif. She was watching him with wide dark eyes, face pale under the grime. The gag had been crude, and she had ripped it off. “Go home,” Jonathan said a little roughly. “And in the future, don’t walk alone at night.” She gave a little nod, and then said, in a small voice, “Thank you.” And then she turned lightly and ran into the darkness, feet pattering on the cobbles.

Ms. Etter Period 3

Table of contents:

Tzuria Falkenberg Rheanna Atendido Jonathan Coolidge Claire Beglau Dana Matsunami Alix Eisenbrey Ben Flohr Sophia Flohr Julian FrareDavis Ethan Hausman Claire Kaiser Robert Kau Meera Limaye Ryan Lynch Zoe Pierce elliE Stoermer Tim Swan Kaetlynne Tagle Emma Middleton Holden Weihs

Tzuria Falkenberg

Better Forgotten The wind blows from the Rhine, from the bridge where Robert jumped, to the docks downstream where the fishermen pulled him out, to the house. On these days, the drafty days, the children are quiet, waiting, hoping, for the telltale knock. Their nurses keep them out of the way, downstairs, or in the garden. Sometimes Johannes will come, and the house brightens, but the warmth flees hastily, driven away by the gust that slams the door closed behind him. There was warmth in the house when Robert lived there, still there, even whilst he himself had descended into the darkness. Clara’s love for her family had pervaded the house, and almost alleviated the bleakness of his presence. The happy times, when her father’s music brought cheer rather than melancholy, these are the moments that Marie misses. Today, Marie reads Johannes’ new copy of Les Misérables in the parlor, the room musty from disuse, while passages of Robert’s newest gloomy piano composition drifted down from Clara’s study. Somewhere, baby Felix is wailing, his nurse unable to console him as the dismal music pervaded the house. The gray light of a winter afternoon is seeping away, after a long day in anticipation of the letter. Marie is poised to light a candle when the house echoes with the knock. She sprints towards the entry, in a very unladylike fashion, but it matters little, no one will see. By the time the thick novel slides off the horsehair settee and hits the rug with a muffled thump, she is already halfway there. Brunhilde, the housekeeper, her eyes alight with hope, reaches the door even before Marie. Marie occasionally ponders, but only briefly, how the plump woman always manages to arrive at the door first, despite coming from the kitchen, on the other side of the house. She disregards this thought, however, as the door opens, revealing the messenger, a thin balding man whose thick indigo cloak is wrapped tightly against the gusting wind. His gloved hand pulls the thick envelope from the woolen folds to hand to Brunhilde. “From Endenich.” he says, with a slight smile, knowing from the experience of many visit how cherished these infrequent letters are. “Danke” Brunhilde thanks him, and the door bangs behind him. She turns to look at Marie, face ablaze with anticipation. “Endenich, Marie, Endenich.” She repeats. Marie nods, eyes wide, her face grave with understanding. “Shall I take it up to her?” Brunhilde gives her the letter with a nod, and Marie is gone, flying up the stairs and down the corridor to stand, breath heavy, at Clara’s study door. “Mutter, a letter.” The music ceases immediately and just seconds later the door flies open. “A letter, did you say, Marie?” “It’s from Endenich, Mutter.” Clara’s face brightens; her expression the way it was most of the time, in the days before Robert left. Marie clearly recalls that time, when her mother was always singing, along to the piano, or as she worked in her garden. Ferdinand and Eugenie, though, being so young, have mostly forgotten, and know only this distant mother whose study door in never open. Felix, born only the June before last, has never met his father, or the person his mother is when he is around. Marie hands the letter to her mother, the envelope thick and heavy with letters and newly composed music, and follows her into the study, hoping for a chance to read the letter, or even just catch a glimpse of her father’s handwriting. He has been gone for almost two years now – she has forgotten how it looks. Today, for once, Clara does not immediately command her daughter to leave, and Marie closes the door after her, soon uncomfortable near the blazing fire. Clara sits down in a large wellstuffed chair, moved into her room from Robert’s study. Marie sits down on the piano bench across the room and, together, they wait. From the experience of a very few times that Marie has seen her mother open Robert’s letters, she knows it will be a while before she has any idea as to its contents. Clara holds the envelope in her hands, turning it over and over, her face a strange combination of apprehension and hope. Marie, still a girl at fourteen, can only barely understand how her mother longs for her father, his often depressive presence only truly welcome because of its cheering effect on her mother. She stares at the missive, not really seeing it, and Marie, though silently willing her mother to open Robert’s letter, and get the suspense over with, says nothing, for fear of alerting her mother to her presence in the room. The barren branches of the trees that line the garden wave and contort in the stiff wind that blows off the river, and Marie regards their dance, mesmerized, for an eternity, or maybe a few minutes. The silence in the study is broken as Clara opens the envelope with a long, slow rip. Almost reverently, the new music is removed from the envelope and set aside. Clara unfolds the letter. There are two pages, covered front and back with closely written, scarcely legible handwriting. Marie can’t imagine, now that she sees it, how she could have forgotten its scrawling form. Clara reads the letter, silently, slowly, her mouth moving along with Robert’s words. Finished, she turns the papers over and rereads them. She looks up with a sigh after the second reading, and starts a little, realizing that Marie is still in the room. Marie raises her eyebrows. “Well?” “I’m going to Endenich, Marie.” “What?” “He’s asked me to come. The doctors say I’ll be allowed to see him.” Uninformed as she is, Marie can tell from the look on her mother’s face what this news means. Robert will never come home, and he will not be long at Endenich. Marie doesn’t really know what to think. Her mother turns away to look at the music, and she escapes from the room, fleeing. The news follows her into the parlor. She lights a candle, and sets Les Misérables back on the couch. She can’t read now, though, and she can’t figure out how to feel. Robert’s depression will never cast a shadow over the family again, cause for relief on Marie’s part. Still, she has always assumed that he would return, and to lose one’s father – she feels obligated to grieve. Mutter would grieve, but then she’d been grieving, ever since Robert had gone to Endenich. And how, Marie wonders, will the little ones grieve for the father they can’t remember? She is confronted only with the challenge of grieving for a father she would rather forget.

Rheanna Atendido Please Care “Madeleine, you are late to dinner,” She said in a monotone manner. Wonderful, she’s calling me by my first name again. There’s no point in talking back because that’d require me to explain what I’ve been doing while on the ship, and that can’t happen. I yank the chair from under the table but sit down without any hurry, making sure to fashion my skirt so that there are no unwanted folds or creases once I get up. My meal is in neat assortments on a pear white plate. Seasoned, baked potato bits are in a mound next to the carrots and peas. The smell of the roast beef and sweet gravy is attacking my nose as the steam rises to aggravate my hunger. I long to dive right into my dinner, but refrain so my mother won’t feel the need to lecture me about proper dining etiquette. After placing the napkin on my lap, I pick up the knife and fork and slice through the meat as rich gravy runs through the cracks. I carry up a sliver to my mouth and see her in front of me; her dark brown hair fixed back in a bun, her back perfectly against the chair, and her eyes, while staring at her plate, glistening with annoyance. Perhaps tonight’s dinner will be silent. “Well, are you going to explain why you are tardy?” Or maybe I’m wrong. “Mother, you don’t need to worry, we’re on a boat,” I reply while scooping vegetables onto my spoon. “It’s not like there’s much– ” “Exactly. We are on a boat, Violet. The Titanic is a large vessel and highly unfamiliar to the both of us, so please at least try to understand how much it distresses me to have you disappear whenever you want!” The tone in her voice is sharp, and while she’s trying to keep from raising her voice in public, it’s obviously a challenge. I concentrate on my food, and finish up my vegetables before my potatoes and beef before responding. “I was not that late, mother.” “Yes, but you were still late and that is not acceptable. You’re old enough to know better than to keep your mother and your dinner waiting.” “It was still steaming when I got here, I couldn’t have arrived more than two minutes after the server had brought it.” “But it still got here before you had, did it not? It was sitting here before you had even walked through those doors.” Her eyes seemed to pierce right through me. It was painful to look at her while she wore that harsh expression. Her dark eyebrows narrowed just as her eyes had, fixed on my face alone. I wanted to look away, but knew I had to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry.” She let her focus drop down to her nearly empty plate, releasing me from the tension, allowing me to finish my meal. That seemed to be the end of that. I look up and see him standing outside the dinning room. His deep blue eyes and sungolden windswept hair is hard not to miss. Charlie. We were supposed to meet up on the deck! How stupid of me to have forgotten. I the remaining bits of the meat as fast as I can and jump out of my seat, hoping my mother will not stop me. “Where do you think you are going?” Perhaps my luck has run out. That seemed to happen a lot today. Her voice was sharp, but of course it’d be. “I have finished my dinner there is no reason for me to stay here any–” “Yet you have not been excused now have you, Violet. Leaving now would be highly disrespectful of you. And for another thing it is getting very late. Where do you intend to go anyways?” Her voice was even louder than before. “Mother…” No words seem capable of escaping my mouth. What am I supposed to tell her? I’m going to ignore her and my manners to run off with a boy? Absolutely not. “It does not mater, I’m leaving.” “Doesn’t matter, ” she shouted. “I demand you to tell me this instant, Madeleine Violet.” She caught a hold of my hand and I’m in her firm grasp just as my body had turned towards the exit. Over her shoulder I can see Charlie pacing around and running his hands through his hair. She turns her head, and then turns it back my way. “Is it him,” she snapped. Again, no words seem to be slipping out. “How dare you! You are sixteen, and way too young to be going off to some boy you don’t even know!” “Mother, please just listen to me. I– ” “Listen to you? How could you expect me to listen to you when you can’t even listen to a single thing I say to you?” “Mother– ” “Do you honestly think that you are the one with the authority?” “Why ?” I screamed. Her grip loosened as her eyes did. “Do you care at all? About how I feel? About me? ” I can feel tears begin to drop down my cheeks. “Excuse me?” Everything. Everything I’ve ever held inside, kept from her, all the emotions I had for her, they’re coming out. “Mother, I just wish, just once, you’d care, or at least trust me. See, if father were alive, I wouldn’t have this problem, and you know what, I’ve felt this way a very long time, so please… just let me be…” I was yelling. I never yell, especially at her. Did I really just say that? She released her grip of me and just like mine, her eyes are teary. “Violet, your father… he isn’t dead. He left just before you were born. He didn’t want you Vi. He didn’t even care…”

Jonathan Coolidge Delirium The metal of the rusted old door creaks sickeningly as it squeals open, letting the freezing New York fall air rush in to the vehicle. It’s a brief respite from the pits of hell as it blows across feverstricken skin. I feel two men hoist the gurney that I’m in, and move me down on to the cracked pavement. The bumps caused by the wheel gliding across the cracked pavement are both maddening and grounding at the same time. My lower abdomen is on fire, and my head swivels from side to side, trying to translate and transmit images to my brain. Unfortunately, the fever is effecting my cognitive abilities adversely, and all I can make out is a blur of green, grey, blue, and white as they wheel the gurney through the doors of the hospital. The loud rumbling of the engine dies down once we enter the building, and is replaced by a quiet chatter. Well, that’s how it seemed for a moment, before my quiet paradise was shattered by the vociferous reality that is the emergency room of a hospital. The doctors around my gurney are shouting instructions to nurses, doctors, and patients alike. Children are sobbing and ask their mommies why their daddies are bleeding, I hear a teenage boy howling from the pain of his arm, where the bone has clearly been snapped in half, and a man clutches his bleeding face as he stumbles towards a nurse. Then my gurney collides with a door, and the noise fades. The doctors around my cart are still screaming to each other, but the deafening roar of the inmates of the emergency room retreats. “Is surgery one open?” The tall, darkhaired man standing over me demands of the other doctors. “He’s not going to last much longer!” That statement hits home. I wonder if they’ve called my uncle to warn him? Perhaps he’s passed the message back to my mother in Yugoslavia. I have no doubt she’s panicking at the moment (whether about me, or some rapscallion of a chicken. In my fever and delirium, I can’t fully comprehend what’s happening, but I feel that I— Sava Kosanavic— am going to die. Sadly, I can’t even think of who I am. I’m nobody, a twobit politician. A loveless, valueless, purposeless shell that wanders the streets of a city asking “Can anyone hear me? Is there anyone out there? Can anyone help me? Does anyone care?” And as I sit here watching this pathetic moment of my life, dressed in clothes that are so saturated with sweat that they cling to his body like swimsuit, I know that the answers to all of his questions can be answered with a simple, undeniable truth. “No, Sava Kosanavic. There is no one out there for you. No one loves you, no one cares about you, no one misses you, no one needs you, and no one will help you.” I wonder what he thinks about as he lies there, burning on the funeral pyre marked by a little green gurney. Does he pray to god for forgiveness? Perhaps he prays for a second chance, another year, another day to walk the planet. Perhaps he wonders who or what god is. Perhaps his god watches over him in this moment, silently weighing the man’s worth. Perhaps I am his god, and I have yet to realize it. But then what am I? I feel what he feels, I smell what he smells, I see what he sees, but I think different thoughts. But, still, I am aware of what he thinks. I know that the smell of the operating room is penetrating the innermost layers of his brain now, the horrid sterile smell of the operating room, seeping through his mind and body, telling him to leave this life behind. Be gone, I say! Leave this man to his fate, tell him not how to live! Is all life not precious to it’s creator? Is this why I feel so strongly about the man on the gurney? Am I here to care about him only because some detached superbeing decided we were suitable for life? As the gurney rolls in to the operating room, followed by the small battalion of doctors, the gurney hits a small bump, and I remember. I am Sava Kosanavic. I am this sweaty, pathetic, lonely man on the table. Why am I so intent on living? Why is my life so important to me? But why do I question? Why do I fail to feel happy for anything in my life? Why is it just another step on the road? Why can’t it be a joyous, momentous occasion of progress? Why can’t each step I take be filled with the silent joy of social, religious, and political advancement? I could change the world! Maybe even end this hellish war before another innocent life is taken. Why can’t I feel? I love my family, but I don’t care about them. I don’t care! I just don’t care about anything! I can’t feel them there! I can’t feel anything except this damn heat! I swear, it’s as though Satan himself is clawing up from the murky depths to take my soul. “Are we almost ready?” The tall doctor asks a nurse rushing by me. “Yes, Doctor,” she responds, looking at me with a grim pity. “Then get ready to administer the anesthetic.” he commands, and she scurries away. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life. It feels like a literal trial by fire and the jury is about to read their verdict. Satan is crawling up from the depths of my heart to fight off the angels of the Lord sent for me. I am overcome with a feeling that my fate is now out of my own hands, so I pray. Prayer is the only thing I have left now. The war. The world war! That’s what this is! The world war is what I can relate to this battle of souls to! A great evil force is sweeping Europe, slaughtering the innocent, and burning towns to the ground. There was no hope of stopping the evil until a benevolent and mighty country stepped in from the west and crushed the Nazi power! “Everyone ready?” The male doctor asks again. He is greeted with a hail of positive answers. America can defeat the Nazi regime! I know this in my heart, and if this is true, than perhaps my soul can be saved! Satan will fall, just as the Nazi regime will! He will fall as far as can be fallen, and he will burn in the same fire that he is currently trying to consume my body with. “Administer the anesthetic now,” the doctor says. I feel a mask pressed to my face. I inhale sharply, looking up at the face of my attacker. I feel calm as I look into her eyes and realize that she’s one of the angels. I nod at her a smile as the room begins to whirl around me. “Making the first incision now…” the doctor states. The burning of my body and my mind consumes me for a moment, blocking out all feeling and thought. I swear that the devil was about to take my soul in this moment. Unfortunately for his plans, God had the mercy to let everything fade to black in that exact moment.

Claire Beglau A Place Where People Come I sat on the tile floor. I knew there was dried blood on the floor, but I didn’t look at it. The deep gashes hid themselves under my moist bangs. Breathing felt like inhaling boiling water. I breathed in, my tongue tasting the thick air. I kept thinking about this room I was in, the thought like a painting I couldn’t take down. Someone was behind me. They didn’t stir, so I didn’t look. It seemed like I just took the worst shower of my life. The blinds were closed, contorting light to float in dark lines. Sitting behind the desk, a dark man brought a binder out before me. He had told me it was the rules of Toul Sleng. “You must answer accordingly to my questions, don’t turn them away. Don’t try to hide the facts by making pretexts of this and that .” Pause. “You are strictly prohibited to detest the revolution created by Angka.” The man looked up from the binder. “Don’t be a fool for you are a chap who dares to thwart the revolution.” The paper began to be read again. My security regulations were clear. To follow orders. The floor sweaked; a chair was sliding across the tile, and a shuffle of footsteps walked heavily towards the back of my chair. A voice said to get up and walk. It was a voice that you didn’t want to know, one that would keep you squirming in the middle of the night. I stood up, for there was not very much weight to keep me down. The clothes the soldier wore taunted my rags. I envied a red and white scarf, and a dirty green uniform. His dark skin looked like it used to be healthy, caramel colored. Now the man was scared and discolored, splotches of light pink lined his jawbone. I stood, and towered over the man. He turned his gaze away and immediately began to walk out of the room, and I followed. If I had stayed back in the administration office, I would have to stare at the officer, and my bare feet would stand on the dried up blood that was turning brown. It was a sticky day old mystery. We walked on in the corridor, the tiled walls reminding me of walking to geography years back. Walking down my old school hallway, I became more acute to hearing the whispers and the inside jokes that people never made with me. The officer had developed a pattern of footsteps directly behind me. Our footsteps escalated and fought to gain control. Light was scattered on the granite blocks outside, and the heat pressing against the dusty window, with the cracks and the visible fingerprints. We arrived before H4, now called the Identification center. There were no windows in this room, no light to make the dust visible, only a chair. A metal chair sat in the middle of the room. In front of the chair was a camera on 3 stilts. Its small lens eyed the chair evilly. A buzzing noise came from the camera, like a low hum like a refrigerator that made everything cold. The camera couldn’t drive out the heat that hung like flies above my head. I sat still in the chair, a metal post drilling into my head, forcing my sweating head to remain still. My bloated stomach gargled and I whispered for it to shut up. The photographer didn’t look at me while the camera clicked. If I had seen my picture, there would have been tears visible in my eyes, and one escaping. We walked back to the administration office. It was in the soldier’s eyes that he knew what I felt. A video camera had been brought out of the corner and had already begun to tape me, the red light flashing on and off. “Rewrite your autobiography, don’t add lies, and don’t forget the truth.” I looked at the white lined page I was given. Do not thwart the revolution, for you are a fool . Those words looked up at me, as if they were lucidly etched on the paper. I watched my hand move slower than then the minute hand. The soldier watched me in his chair, glaring with his blackened eyes. Write. I struggled over the page, needing to find the words to make my life seem like I was worth nothing, yet I had the skills they wanted. I wrote that as a boy, I was a face in the crowd. I excelled in metal work, and left school to join my dad in the market. Then I wrote about Lin, remembering that night, and honoring him by writing his name. My heart beat faster, and I rubbed my eyes. I recalled the soldier, who picked me up in the dead of night in the fields and took me here. He told me where I was going. I just never really pictured walking through school halls with real fear. I turned my paper into the binder. The soldier grabbed it, and put it on his desk. I kept my face expressionless. A new soldier was called in, and a new, aging woman was brought in behind him. She didn’t look at me, even when I softly pleaded with her to look at me. She was hefty, and her wrinkles stretched on forever. A teenager who probably didn’t even know he was leading me, lead me out of the room. His unfortunate face gave the impression like his skin was stretched out and knotted on the back of his head. The yellow tiled floor was stained and worn with to many footprints. Marching upstairs, I imagined myself tracing the cement. I thought about it would feel on my fingertips. I caught a glimpse outside from a window. Chained barbwire lined the school now. A large hole was being dug, and left to gather dust, with soldiers away. Rays of sun illuminated the shovels, the palm trees and the barbwire. My cell was one of many that stretched along the hallway. I heard men groaning. Sickening groans that wanted to be extinguished. I could sense that this hall wanted death to hurry up with its business. And if it came now, it would be all right with me. I shuddered, contemplating suicide. The teenager unlatched my cell that was the size of my old dresser. He never looked at me. He looked tired, but so was. The yellow tile had black gashes, and on the wall was written konlaenh choul min dael chenh. “Strip down.” The teenager told me. I looked at him, and wondered if he ever swam in the Mekong, or bought in the river market. He handled the knotted up rope in his hand. He thrust it out, flayed his arm back and it came down on my chest. I cried with the pain that was inserted, that scraped my bone marrow. The whip ripped open my veins, and left them to trickle out blood. I instantly began to roll my shirt off my bone and skin torso, breathing out of control. He didn’t notice the wounds that I wore, or my poking ribs. I shoved my pants off next, and my eyes swelled. I cried in front of the boy who was the same age as me. Then came another lash, one that hurt more, one that tore up more, and I cried out, while everything around me became silent. Men were trying to hear something besides their moans. When the guard stopped, I stood there, stifling, and not looking at him running his hands through the clothes searching for anything he found dangerous. I thought about taking his whip. I so wanted to, a longing that made my hands almost reach out. But the guard stood and left, latching the cell. It made an old wooden door sound. For a while, I stood staring, half naked, at the door. Running my hands through my hair left oil traces in my hand. I had no energy to pound on it. So I imagined myself pouring onto the door, asking out, swearing and spitting. But like the coward I am, I hung my head. I got tired and stopped thinking after that, sinking to the ground. I finally noticed that my wounds were numb and that I was bleeding. Bastard, I thought while I ripped up my shirt and patted my back, blindly looking for the bleeding. I looked up at the words again, my breathing slowed when I read it’s meaning, ‘ the place where people come and never come out of ’. It was harshly written with what seemed fingertips. I dabbed insignificant wounds, to the low hum of a man muttering a prayer. He asked Jayavarman for forgiveness, “And last of all”, he muttered a chillingly old voice, “Even these soldiers of steel cannot recover. They need the guidance of Angka, I send my prayers to you, Jayavarman, in hopes that you will answer them.”

Dana Matsunami Птицы занимает полет The Birds Took Flight

Galina walked outside, the hollow sounding wind biting at her cheeks. She took a breath of frigid air that pierced her lungs. Finally escaping from the claustrophobic environment she had spent the last hour in. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself and shoved her hands into the pockets. The constant thud from the far corner of the yard echoed making birds scatter, along with the whistling of the wind. Galina treaded with difficulty through the thick frozen snow, pulling her boots up and stomping down in order to move at all. A splinter of wood flew toward Galina and she stooped to throw it out of the way. Misha readjusted the block and threw the ax down against the chunk of wood. His back and arm muscles strained through his heavy bundling. He was red faced and breathing heavily. Galina placed her hand on his arm mid swing. He jumped and dropped the ax. “Ja Galina! You startled me.” Galina made an apologetic gesture and sat on the crudely constructed wood bench beside the woodpile. Misha finished chopping the last piece of wood and collapsed beside her. He studied her face for a moment, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the creases that cut deep through her forehead. Galina stared at her fur lined thick winter boots. Her breath sent steam billowing into the frigid air. It froze round her lips, and tiny icicles beaded the fur hood she wore over her head and lower face. “What is the matter?” He asked. She continued to stare down, her eyes tracing the lines of the neat stitching her mother took such pride in. “Hei, Leeh.” He nudged her, calling her by her childhood nickname. She looked up. His warm brown eyes were filled with worry. “Where do I belong?” “Ju?” he questioned, confused. She looked at him. He sighed and placed a heavy arm around her shoulders. “You belong…” he began, then paused. He switched tactics. “Would you like to hear a story?” he asked. She wrinkled her brow, confused, then nodded. “So vremyón tsaryá Gorókha,” Once upon a time. “There was a ordinary girl, with an ordinary family. Something happened, however, which gave the girl a chance to become extraordinary. This girl was homesick, she had to go away, and she missed her family, as they missed her. They knew she had to continue with her education, however, for she had been intended for better things. She was better things. Her older brother,” Misha paused and elbowed her. “her older brother knew that she would do her best, and make her family proud. He knew that despite the fact that he would never leave the town, never see the world.” Misha concluded. Galina’s eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed beneath her hood. “What do you mean?” she asked, incredulously. “Of course you will see the world someday!” Misha just shook his head and smiled. “Of course I will not. I will stay here, work in the lumber mill, marry a girl from town, and be buried in the town I was born in. You, though, you can see the world. You can travel Russia, meet Tsars and have money to spare.” Galina stared at him. No, she kept thinking, no. “So tell me, little sister, why is it that you ask me this question ‘where do I belong’?” Galina reached up to tug her braid, then realized it was tucked away in her hood. Her hands dropped back into her lap. Misha’s arm was heavy and warm around her shoulders. She felt the seconds ticking by, and searched in vain for an answer. Her lips formed words, but they never came out. “I” she started, biting her lip. “I was…I was asked by the headmaster, the director of the Academy…” Misha waited patiently. “He he asked me he asked me to think seriously about…where I belong. Do you think, do you think he means that I do not belong at the Academy?” “Well,” Misha began, his deep voice almost echoing against the dark woods behind them. “I think he means that you are letting your wish to be home effect your performance. Remember, Galina, you must be strong; you must not give in to your emotions. Be brave in the face of everything you fear.” He squeezed her quickly, then nodded to the woodpile. “I had best take some wood indoors. You’ll be alright?” he asked, getting up. Galina nodded absentmindedly. Misha gathered wood into his sled and began trudging through the snow toward the house. The chimney gave off a ghoulish curl of smoke, and the house seemed dangerous, foreign. Galina rubbed her eyes. Brave. She had never been brave, that had always been Anya. Anya, her cousin, her best friend. Anya, who lay inside, struggling to even raise her arm. Anya was the one who stood up for Galina. “Oh Anya. Get well, get well and be brave for me,” Galina murmured. If only Anya were there at the Academy…no. Galina shook her head. This was her own destiny. She had to be brave for herself. Brave like her father, brave like Misha. Brave like Dimitri, her dance partner, who fought a silent battle every day, the battle to get up, to go to class, to dance despite the constant rain of criticism and hate that was hurled at him. Steadfast. Strong. Galina folded her hands and bowed her head. She murmured a quick prayer, and then asked one last thing. “Отче наш, сущий на небесах Да святится имя Твоё; Да придёт Царство Твоё Да будет воля Твоя И на земле, как на небе Хлеб на насущный Дай нам на сей день И прости нам долги наши.” Please, please let me be strong, let me be brave. Let my decision be the right one. Help me to find my way, to choose. Should I go or should I stay? Galina quickly finished. She took a deep breath. Two weeks. Two weeks to make a decision. She stood, brushed herself off, and started the difficult trek towards the house. Back to the room with the feeling of death.

Alix Eisenbrey

An Idea of Motion

I was sitting at the kitchen table. I think everything that had ever happened to me had happened in that linoleumfloored kitchen with the clock whose ticks echoed through the house at night when I was trying to sleep. I vaguely remembered my mother painting the light yellow walls (in old sweats, hair up,) years ago, but now they were faded and could use a new coat. I was there eating cereal when my father was fired from the paper factory that filled the town with its sulfurous stink, and French toast that I had made myself when he was hired by the trucking company. I had been sitting at that timeworn pale pine table the day my mother had packed her clothing and valuables in two suitcases, quietly closed the door, and walked to the bus station. I had watched her go, not trying to stop her, not quite understanding what was happening. As a ten year old, I knew she would be back. She was my mom. My mom painted kitchen walls and baked cookies. My mom always came back. I was seated at the table when I was ten and Anna a sobbing little three year old, stumbling blindly through the house looking for someone to cry to because she had tripped and scraped her knee on the sidewalk. When I turned eighteen I baked myself a chocolate cake and ate it alone at the table, and when Anna turned eighteen last winter I baked her one, too, and we ate it there, together, watching the snow swirl outside the window. And I was sitting at the that table, sweating in the summer heat, the day Anna pulled out the chair across from me, old metal feet scraping across the linloeum, sat down, and pushed a piece of paper across the table. I hadn’t known what to think of it. I knew what it was, even though I had never seen an airplane ticket before, but I asked anyway. “What’s this?” She was looking at me expectantly, a light in her eyes I had never seen before. “It’s a ticket. A plane ticket.” “I can see that.” I glanced up at the clock. Its methodic ticktocking was ringing in my ears. Could clocks just decide to be louder sometimes? “I mean, what’s it for?” “I bought it, Joe. I saved up for it and I bought it and now I’m going to take a bus to the airport and use it to get to the city. I can’t stay here, Joe.” She said all this very fast. I looked at the ticket again. The black lettering of the gate and seat number, the destination city, stood out against the whiterthanwhite paper. She hadn’t paid the extra to have the library print it in color. It looked very official. “Oh.” When I looked back up, Anna’s eyes were damp, tears threatening to leak down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t want to leave you. I really don’t. But I can’t stay here. I don’t want to be just another nobody in a tiny town somewhere. I’ll die if I stay here and get knocked up and have to work two minimumwage jobs to support myself like half the girls in this place.” I handed the ticket back to her slowly, deliberating whether or not to take it and rip it to shreds. Saying nothing, I let the paper slide between my fingers. Anna was sniffling now, sounding like the three year old with the bloody knee. I wished I could just push her bangs back, kiss her forehead and give her a bandaid and a cookie and make everything all right, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. I blinked back the tears that were welling up, not daring to look at Anna, not daring to face those big brown eyes that only wanted me to be okay with everything, even though she knew I wasn’t. I knew those eyes were as full as mine, and that if I moved my gaze from my hands, if I looked up, I would see a roundfaced, pinkcheeked little girl whose scraped knee could be made better by a Barbie bandaid and a kiss, a little girl whose dreams had once been bigger than finding work in the city, bigger than contentment, bigger than the sky. “Just go,” I finally choked out. “Go make yourself into something.” After a long moment I heard her chair push back, metal feet shrieking against the linoleum and the gentle pad of her feet, the click of the door closing but I continued to study my hands until I heard the door open again and felt the light pressure of a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, Joe,” she whispered. “I’ll write.” And then I was hugging her, holding her tight, sniffling and burying my face in her long hair, wildly curly, and the color of handpainted kitchen walls, that smelled like sulfur and chocolate cake and homemade French toast. She was crying, too, the same fat teardrops as the bigeyed toddler whose knee I had cleaned and bandaged. She clung to me as if for support, and for a second I almost dared think she had changed her mind. Then I felt her lips press against my head, just briefly, one last reminder that she loved me before she was gone. When I went upstairs later I found her suitcases gone, her drawers empty except for a few cookie crumbs and a used bandaid.

Ben Flohr

Name

Fritz was not like most sixteen year old girls. For example, she was not sixteen. Eighty two to be exact. Though who would have thought. Fritz’s hair was a dazzling goldenyellow, and it fanned out on the sides like wings. She wore bright converse combat boots, skinny jeans, and light pretty shirts. Fritz also had an impressive collection of neon fingerless gloves. At the moment she was wearing a black and green striped pair. In between the banded gloves was an oldfashioned golden pocket watch. The watch was open and looked more like a stopwatch than a clock. At the beginning of the circle was the number one. The timepiece had now gone the full 360 degrees and had landed on the number 500. The clock chain swung to and fro from its sturdy centerpiece as fritz paced. Her usually quite alive hair now was wet and lifeless. Fritz, staring intently at the watch did not notice the first knock on the door in front of which she was pacing. It was think and everything in the house seemed to be made of the same pale wood. Except for the floor. That wood was darker. She didn’t notice the second knock, but Fritz did notice a fly trapped between a window screen and window cooking in the summer hear. Sighting she hurriedly walked to the fly and set it free. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! The loud thumping from the room drew Fritz’s attention from the boring stairwell and into the dark curtain drawn chamber in which lay her friend and master. As she entered the room, Fritz noticed only the heavy musky scent of sweat, and could hardly see a thing. Her friend gestured to her to sit by her bed, her other hand rubbing the baby bump in her abdomen. The woman’s raven hair was in a perfect arch around her head, and her pointed noses nostrils rose and fell with each breath she took. She smoothed the plain cotton dress and began to speak. “Why do you think I have called you here Fritz?” She had a watered down British accent. “To help with the baby?” “Of course not. I could give birth in my sleep!” Suddenly serious, Fritz said, “Morgana your time is almost up. Look at the watch.” She showed her, but Morgana pushed away her hand. “I know, I know, that’s why I called you here. You are my last faithful servant, and I need you to raise and protect my child. She will have my powers and more, but she will need help. I expect you to be there for her and provide that help. When she turns sixteen other sorcerers will try to take that power from her.” Fritz nodded. She understood Morgana sighed, “You know there are a lot of things in my life I wish I could take back.” Fritz’s head snapped to attention. Morgana was never one to say an apology. “I wish I had never attacked that stupid Camelot, it gave me a bad reputation, and I never should have slept with Arthur that was gross. And I miss my brother. A sad note in her voice began to appear, “I wish I had never killed Merlin, he was always the best big brother.” There was an awkward pause in which it looked like Morgana would cry. “Oh! And I wish I had never taken that stupid yoga class it was a waste of money and time!” Moment over. At that instance the watch began to vibrate like a little alarm. “Morgana it’s time.” Morgana breathed a deep breath, and as she let it out her body disintegrated into millions of tiny stars and when the light of them had finally died down, there in her place lay a little baby and a not. It read

Chaeli Le Fay Morgenstern

Sophia Flohr

The Hot Dog Stand

Giuseppe Petri strolled out the back door wearing a suit and his usual fedora. There was no special occasion; Giuseppe always dressed as nicely as he could. Beneath the hat was dark hair, which matched his eyes, but his skin was faint. Giuseppe liked that, his light skin and his clothes were just about the only thing that helped him blend in in the city of Chicago. He turned left to get to the main street. Giuseppe was always careful where he walked, his precision in the placement of his feet was perfect. He could have walked that route with his eyes closed if he’d wanted to. Normally no one else was in line at the hot dog stand, this was a normal day. “I’ll take a frankfurter with everything.” “Comin’ right up,” the man behind the stand yelled. Giuseppe Petri was born in Naples Italy. When he was seven, he rode in a ship across the Atlantic and landed in New York with his mother. Soon after they arrived in the big city, his mother told him they were moving to Chicago. “Here ya go,” the man behind the stand handed him the frankfurter. The apron he wore was stained and even though the man’s smile was bigger than life, Giuseppe couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He smelled as if he needed to go through a washing machine days ago. The man was long overdue for a shave. Giuseppe handed the man a crisp fivedollar bill. “Keep the change,” Giuseppe put his hand up to reinforce that he wouldn’t accept any change. “God bless your soul!” Giuseppe walked over to the bench. He sat down on the right side and slung his left arm across the back of the bench. Across the street and to the left was a movie theater. When Giuseppe was seven, when he first came to America, his mother told him to go to that theater, that it would help him learn English because at the time the only words he knew were mustard and toilet. So, as any smart boy would, he followed his knowing mother’s instructions. Giuseppe slouched in the back of the theater in one of the seats with the back against the wall and pay close attention to what they said. Soon he understood many of the words and could repeat them. English didn’t interest him much, but he figured it must be good for him to learn so he never gave up. After he went to the movies, he would sometimes sit on his favorite bench and listen to people speak, that helped too because he learned how people expressed their emotions in real life about real things to real people. When Giuseppe turned 10 he started work for the local newspaper and rode one of the company’s bikes every morning at five o’clock; the only exception was Sundays when he went to church with his mother and baby sister. It was a quaint, quiet church with few pews and they were made of mixmatched, almost scraps of slivery wood. The rest of the church resembled the remains of a shipwreck, however, the altar was adorned with gold a sight to behold. Necklaces were hung from the crucifix with care and there was a colorful statue of Mary close by. Being inside the church was like being in a different world, all they had to do was cross the threshold of the church’s front doors and it was like he was back at home in Naples. Although Giuseppe liked his job for the newspaper, by the time it was Sunday he was ready for a break. One foggy, bright morning Giuseppe was throwing newspapers. It was a bumpy ride over the bricks. He glanced down and the texture of the worn red, it had rained that night and there was a line of bubbles where his tires had rolled. Suddenly his bike ran into the curb and he collided with the ground. Giuseppe rushed to his feet and looked around to see if anyone had been watching. No one was around so he reached down for his bike, looking to and fro and rolled it along next to him. He set it against a window making a louder noise than he thought. The ruckus caught the attention of a man inside. The man came to the door and at the same time another man opened a door on the back wall. He walked quietly so the big, thick man standing in front of him couldn’t hear. The big man demanded, “What do you want?” Giuseppe spoke clearly, “I’m here to deliver a newspaper, I just crashed on my bike outside…” “Shut up!” The man grabbed the newspaper out of Giuseppe’s hands. He muttered a few things that Giuseppe didn’t understand (but apparently the man with the quiet footsteps had). “Hey! You,” the man with quiet steps said in a mighty voice. “Yeah,” the big man turned around just to be smoked in the face with a fist so hard that the big man was knocked out cold. He lay on the floor with his mouth open. “How you doin’, kid,” the man with quiet feet asked. Giuseppe replied, “Oh, I’m doing just fine, sir, thank you, would you like to read the newspaper?” “Sure, kid.” Giuseppe bent over and pulled the newspaper back out of the big man’s hands. He stood up straight and gave the paper to the man. “My name’s Joe, what’s yours,” Giuseppe inquired. “My name is George Moran but you can call me Bugs.” Giuseppe noticed that George’s hands were very big, sort of fat. Giuseppe had respect for this man and he wasn’t quite sure why, but he did. George brought Giuseppe inside the back room. It was filled with a different kind of fog than outside. It was thin and smelled. George offered Giuseppe a cigarette and he accepted. On the bench, Giuseppe lit up a cigarette. His cheeks came in and he tasted the cigarette. Then his cheeks went out. He saw a mother and her child. The mother was dressed nicely and dragged her son behind her. They were probably on their way to church. Giuseppe remembered when he went to church with his mother. Now he escorts her to church. She holds his arm because she is getting old and that’s what old women do, they hold their son’s arms when they go to church. He doesn’t talk much when they go to church and sometimes he can feel her suspicious gaze on his face. After church he used to go to the hot dog stand and his mother would buy him a hot dog. He ate every last bit of it and jumped up and down and begged his mother, in Italian, for another one. Giuseppe threw his cigarette on the ground. He stood, crumpled the paper around the rest of his hot dog and threw it away.

Julian FrareDavis

Tension

Joseph was uncomfortable. He and his brother were standing outside, waiting to be picked up by Harry to go to the stage, and had been waiting for 25 minutes. Neither of them had said a single word this whole time, and Joseph thought he might just explode from the tension. What was the worst though, was that there were no sounds at all, not the sounds of children playing, and not even the high chirps of birds. Recently, Harry had told Joseph that he had been offered a job performing as an escape artist. He also told him that the man who offered him a job would give Joseph one too. Joseph really didn’t have much of a choice but to accept. It wasn’t just because they lived together and it would be ideal for them to work together, but also because he needed work because he hadn’t found a job since they had been in jail. Joseph was extremely annoyed that the car was taking a long time, and felt that he needed to say something; even something insignificant, that would ease the tension. “Do you know how long Randal is going to be here in?” he asked. It felt good to say something, and hoped that his brother might chat with him. “No idea,” Harry shrugged. “He said he’d be here a half hour ago.” “Hmm,” Joseph mumbled. “Well do you think he’s going to come at all?” “Yes.” Joseph waited for his brother to say something else, but could see that no words were coming out. The situation felt tenser than before, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face, and could also detect his heart thumping. He felt like screaming at the top of his lungs, and spitting every bit of awkwardness out of his body into the world around him. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to even say a word, so just turned away so that his brother couldn’t see his face, and shuffled his feet, sending little pebbles rustling along the gravel. After 2 more minutes of standing there still next to his brother, he saw a car coming up the road, and almost laughed aloud he was so relieved. He strongly desired that there be lots of people in the car so that he would not have to experience another one of those uncomfortable silences. When the car neared, it slowed down a little, and then to a halt when it was right in front of them. The door popped open, and a young man beckoned to them to come in. Dread filled Joseph at the thought of sitting right next to his brother, but then a wave of relief washed over him when he saw the man was sitting in the middle of the three seats. The car looked cramped but he was still grateful for the change in atmosphere. When they were settled, the driver called out a greetings, and it turned out it was Randal, the man who hired them. “Sorry I’m late,” he said in a groggy and tired voice, “there was a group of drunk kids singing along to a radio in the middle of the road a while back. I tried to convince them to move, but I don’t even think they could understand what I was saying. I had to backtrack all the way around an unfamiliar road, and got a little lost.” He breathed out slowly and sounded amused, “good times...” The passengers laughed, and Joseph noticed a couple more men behind him. He could smell their musky scent of sweat clogging up the air. “Once when I was walking to the store, some drunk guy jumped me.” Said one of the passengers in the back. “He was so drunk that when he tried to steal my wallet, he fell over and couldn’t even get back up. I didn’t wanna do anything to him, because he already had a huge punishment coming for him the next morning.” The man laughed, and so did the two men next to him. Joseph thought that this probably wasn’t going to be the most productive crowd, but it would have to do. He looked around the car and could see that it was old. The leather on the ceiling had mostly been worn off, and the exposed metal was so rusty, parts of the thin brown layers were peeling off and sat in small curvy balls with one side attached to the top of the car. The Packard Twin looked like it was ready to be taken to the dump, but he didn’t say anything because it ran just fine. The whole car ride Joseph didn’t say much, but the other men, including his brother, were talking heartily and seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Ethan Hausman Drop Zone It’s December 15 th , 2032 and I’m flying over Los Angeles. It’s a cold morning; the air is crisp and dry. It’s just about as cold as it’s been here in a while. As I look down, I remember the gleaming examples of idyllic cities that these places once were. But the reality is, the world has pretty much gone to shit. Ever since World War Three, the U.S, along with the rest of the world, is in ruins. Flying overhead L.A, you can barely make out buildings. Los Angeles is burning, with a layer of gray ash covering everything. After time riots broke out in the remaining cities, and even these cities started to decay. I’m flying back to Tahoe via helicopter, from helping my brother (Spec Ops Captain in San Diego) with a covert operation in Argentina. As I’m flying over Los Angeles all I can think about is how good it’ll be to see my family. They’re the reason I do what I do: Police and Special Ops work. I do it to keep them safe. The helicopter lands in the field just outside my house. I hop out, and speed off in my car, happy to see my family soon. As I pull up the driveway, I see the bright yellow caution tape I know all to well. I see the red and blue sirens, the police cars, the S.W.A.T teams, and the medics. As I rush up to the house, three officers try to push me back, but I shove them away. I just want to see my family. Then I see my wife. She’s on the floor. Dead. 3 bullets in her chest, I can tell it’s a murder. The chief of police is there, and walks over to me. We sit down at the kitchen table, and he explains to me what happened. * As I walked into HQ, I headed straight to my director’s office. He should have told me about this, and I was not very happy he didn’t. But that was the least of my worries now. I needed to get revenge, and get it fast. I needed to find my son. “Why didn’t you tell me!?” I said to my director. “John, we couldn’t have risked that mission. We had direct orders from the president, to not tell you. He strictly and directly told me; Don’t tell John about this.” “Ben, you’re my friend. How could you not tell me about this?” “John, I wanted to. They wouldn’t let me. There’s a new guy working here, who reports back to the president directly.” “You should have anyways. I’m there when you need me. But you weren’t there when I needed you. If I was in your shoes, I would have gone and either told you, or gone in there myself, and figured it out. I wouldn’t have listened to the president.” “John, come on. Please. Understand. I COULDN’T. Ever since the war, the government has been monitoring EVERYTHING . You cant do anything without them knowing.” “No, you crossed the line. Throws everything off desk. YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME! I deserved to know. It’s me son were talking about.” “I’m sorry.” “Its to late for that. I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need you, or anyone here. I’m going to find my son, myself.” “John, yes you do. Don’t leave.” “I can do whatever I want. Proceeds to leave. ” “John, if you leave, you’ll never find your son.” “What do you mean? What have you learned? Tell me what happened to it.” “Well. Its. Its classified John...” “Damnt Ben! Tell me what happened to my son! You give the “its classified” crap to someone who doesn’t know what’s happening to them, or if they should know what’s happening. Its my son were talking about.” “Well, we got the surveillance footage from a satellite by your house, and saw a black van coming from you house 15 minutes after the shooting. We lost track of them though, once they went under the bridge. They must have switched cars knowing we would follow them. We did find this though, before the police came to the scene.” He handed me a silver disk, which looked like a music CD. Once plugged into the computer it showed a simple message: Come to 1642, Asklo ave, Yamal Peninsula, Russia. And come alone, if you want to see your son alive. You have 48 hours. I looked at Ben. “ What does the IT team know? Do we have surveillance over the location?” “The IT team figured out that the people that took your son are part of a covert terrorist operatative team, who consists of Old Russian field operatives, Generals, and retired Russian militia. There trained, and dangerous.” “Ben… Thanks.” He nodded back. “Here’s what were going to do. We’re going to fly you via F16 through Russian Airspace. Once 3 miles from the target zone, you H.A.L.O (High Altitude, Low Opening) jump from the plane into the 3 mile perimeter set up by the Russian Black Hawks (Russia’s version of the CIA, or Spec Ops) who are already in place. Everything you need; will be there. You get your son back John. Your plane leaves in 5. I curtly nodded, and said “See you soon.” I jumped into the F16, and the pilot got everything ready. He debriefed me and told me that I will have 45 seconds from when were 2 miles from the target zone to jump. He showed me an overview of the land, and a topographical map of the location. We were going into abandoned warehouse. There are 6 guards outside at all times, and tons of cameras. I didn’t are though. I was going to make as much noise, and as big of an appearance I could make. I then drifted into sleep.9 The Pilot awoke me 20 minutes before the drop point. I pulled on my suite, and got ready to jump. 45 seconds 35 seconds 25 seconds 15 seconds 5 seconds. Then the green light went on. I opened the door, and jumped out of the plane.

Claire Kaiser The Bloodstained Cross As Aban stumbled out of his home and down the narrow street one foot over the other. He instinctively shied away from the sudden sunlight. The sun was facing him straight on and as he walked he had to blink hard to get the flash out of his eyes. His feet scuffled around the scattered rocks and gnarled roots of his well beaten path as they had done a thousand times before. He tried to dodge into patches of shade cast down by the everhanging laundry, but it was no help for his poor, dazed eyes. Kicking up dust with his wellworn sandals as he went, before coming to an abrupt halt next to a boy carrying a basket of fresh fish. He greeted his friend with a pat on the back and casually looked into the basket to see what the catch was for today. The fish were so fresh that they didn’t give off any stink, accepting of course the salt watery smell that was always in abundance this close to the ocean. As the fish shimmered in the morning sunlight, Aban counted 15 or 20 of them, a good catch but useless unless they got to the village market in time. The boys trouped down the winding alleys, brushing against the sand crusted walls on either side, into the heart of town. As they went, more and more boys joined them until a chattering circle engulfed Aban when they finally reached the marketplace. Aban told himself there was nothing to be afraid of, that he was in full control now that he was in his own town. The boys all looked up to him here, surely the news of his super secret job would be safe with them. “So where were you Aban?” said a boy at his left shoulder, with fraying black pants and fingernails which had clearly not been washed in a long time, “We all thought you had thrown yourself into the ocean or gone mad from the gore, did you see your brother, you know, you were there right? ... Or maybe you were captured by a gang of bandits on their way to a slave port in Egypt? And you had to fight your way out with nothing more than a sharp rock?” “No. Much better than that,” said Aban, trying to push back the memories that crouded into his brain on the mention of his brother. With a quick shake of his head he orderd himself back to reality, announcing slyly, “but I can’t tell, orders form the captain you know, King Saladin wouldn’t want me spilling his secrets…” “The King?” yelled a boy possibly a head shorter than Aban himself, who was crouching somewhere near his right leg. There was a collective gasp and many murmurs of “Saladin’s secrets” and “Oh, but he won’t mind if…” With a heaving sigh, and the memories retreating fast, Aban exclaimed, “Ok, ok, if you’re going to be like that then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if… well the truth is that…” All the sudden Aban thought that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell anyone about his job. He wasn’t getting paid or anything, and he got this ominous feeling. “Were there pirates?” someone asked skeptically, and this was enough for Aban, no one questioned him in his town. He had to tell someone, Aban thought as he clambered up onto an only slightly crushed produce box, his friends clustering around him, attentive eyes gleaming in the dustystreet air. So he started, weaving a tale in which he, with his fearless charger, rode night and day in search of King Saladin, to present himself. And when he found the great king, Aban nobly offered his services to fight the hideous crusades. Head raised high he informed his fellow market dwellers, or at least the crowd of boys at large, that he was stationed in Acre on a top secret spy mission. His arms flying, Aban reenacted the many fights he had already won with these dishonorable opponents, until A shape loomed above the boys and a clatter of armor alarmed Aban out of his latest battle sequence. Slowly, Aban looked up to find himself staring into the angry blue eyes of a passing crusade patrol, red crossed shield and all. He gruffly said, “ A spy, eh? Well I wouldn’t believe it but I’m sure the Captain would be happy to have a talk about battle strategies out in the town square, or at least make an example of ye. What say you come with me?” before grabbing Aban roughly by the arms and dragging him out of the mob of boys and proceeding to lead him none too gently toward the middle of town. As Aban shuffled along, he was able to get a good look at his captor. From the top of his greasy head to the bottom of his worn boots, it was evident that the Crusade was not the picture of stature and wealth, though his bulging biceps did not encourage Aban to voice this fact. He smelled of wine and dayold cheese and had a mole right below his left eye, which, through his beyondpanicked calm, Aban’s eyes clung to. It was a coconut brown with a few hairs fringing the sides and a big black dot in the middle. Aban was panicking. He would be dead as his brother in an hour’s time, Aban just knew it, how could he have been so stupid. Trying to keep some grip on reality, Aban let the Crusade’s physical blemishes captivate him until they reached the center of town. Aban hadn’t been here since he had come back from his meeting with Saladin because, of course, this was where the execution had taken place, where his brother died. One horror to another, it was now the Crusades base camp. Still, Aban remembered a time when this was a sunshiny crossroads filled with wellkept houses and open windows with good smells wafting out. Children playing in the streets and adults talked in loud voices on wellswept patios. He would never see it the same again. The Crusade’s presence was evident everywhere. Details ran through his over adrenalized brain. The same dirty sand that the laughing children used to play some madeup game on, now was packed hard by thousands of soldier feet. As much as he strained his ears, Aban heard no laughter, or even slightly drunk singing, just hard military voices shouting orders. There were tents everywhere; all pained with the legendary Crusade cross, some less neatly than others, so that the red paint dripped down like the blood of the hundredodd Muslim soldiers that had met their end on this spot. Scattered nonchalantly around were all sorts of metally weapons that Aban didn’t have a prayer at identifying and was terrified to think what part they may have played in the bloody events of that day. But no welcoming houses in fact, it seemed as if all of the homes’ residents had fled, not wanting to be so close to the outstretched hand of the easily angered Crusades. The man with the mole came tromping back, though Aban hadn’t noticed that he had gone, leading another, slightly better kept man who he introduced as My Superior and That’s All You Need to Know. The first thing that Aban noticed about this man was that in his right hand, he clutched an ugly looking whip, and wore a smile on his face that showed that he was rather fond of using it. “Well son, I hear that you have yourself a mission from our good friend Saladin? Step right this way and we will see exactly what we can get out of your head.” The way the Superior uttered this comment sent shivers up Aban’s spine. The voice had cruel undertones that he sensed didn’t bode well for anyone within earshot, let alone Aban himself, the object of attention. There was no question in his mind now that he shouldn’t have shared his little secret with anyone, let alone his very eager friends in the middle of the marketplace. As he was pushed along, Aban managed to stutter, “Um, you see sir, I was just joking when I said that stuff about Saladin and ah…” “Joking were you? DOWN!” The last part the Superior ordered with a meaty forefinger pointed at the ground in front of him and Aban stumbled to his knees, rubbing his wrists where they had been grasped too hard by mole man. As his slowly recovering mind worked out that there was a reason he had been pushed to the ground, Aban felt a snap on his back that soon turned into a redhot flaring pain when another blow hit. Aban shouted out in surprise and pain as the Superior whispered, “So boy, you fancy yourself a spy for the enemy, well I” But here he was cut off by the arrival of a Crusader boy a few years older than Aban with freckles and strait brown hair who meekly whispered, “Sir, you are needed at the pier.” At this the Superior hurried away, leaving behind the whip. The boy quickly crouched down to Aban’s level and said in a horse voice, “Go now, and quickly!” Aban scrambled up and starting running fast away. Later, walking back up the street to his house, because he had been shamed too much to ever got to the market again, Aban had a horrible realization. Now the Crusade had a hint, if not a certain hunch that there may be boys like him watching them for information to give back to Saladin.

Robert Kau Our Modern Lifestyle John stretched and opened his eyes. The small clock on his bedside table read six in the morning. Without hesitation, he slid out of his soft bed and onto the blue carpet. He dressed himself, and walked down the stairs to find breakfast waiting for him on the table: eggs, bacon, an orange and a large mug of steaming coffee. Delicious smells wafted from the spread, and sounds of sizzling bacon grease emanated from the kitchen. They were accompanied by occasional metallic clunks of the pans. Darryl was cleaning up after the meal, washing the various dishes he had used to make the breakfast John was eating. By the time his watch read 6:10, most of it was gone. He sat back and sipped the coffee, letting its bitter taste fill his mouth, and its welcome warmth his stomach. The weather outside was getting better as winter began to fade. It was almost April of 1929, and the first flowers were timidly, tentatively poking their heads above the ground, still eclipsed by the dewsoaked grass. The gardener would be mowing today. Five minutes later, he was dressed in a suit and tie, striding purposefully down Main Street. Some portions of the town were beginning to wake by now. A few people waved; he smiled and waved back. He marched across the town square at the same measured pace, exchanging friendly greetings with those he passed. Soon, he reached the doors of the Bank, pushed them aside and entered, smiling at the earlymorning attendants. Salutations flew through the air as he continued forward, despite the small number of employees already present – his arrival always brought light to the otherwise cold and dim rooms they labored away in. “Hello, John!” “Good morning!” “Hello!” “Good morning, everyone.” John returned as he passed. He had almost made it to the end of the front room when a secretary stopped him. “Morning! There’s someone from New York to see you, John. He’s from Management – name’s Mister Machiavel.” “Really? Where is he?” Management was the term the town used universally to refer to the master bank on Wall Street that owned and controlled numerous smaller branches around the nation, including this building. “He’s waiting outside your office. Got in on the early train this morning, took a taxi down here from the city.” “Thanks.” John smiled, nodded politely, and continued his journey upstairs to the third floor. His office occupied a large area on the top level, and the windows looked out onto the street below. People would stop and wave at him as they passed. The representative from Management was a man of middling height and weight, with a somewhat jovial look about him. He wore the stereotypical blackandwhite suit and tie that characterized Wall Street and exactly mirrored John’s own attire, except for the cane leaning against the left wall: also mainly black, but laced with decorative streaks of gold. He stood in front of John’s secretary, who worked studiously at her desk in front of the door, and smiled when he entered. He was holding out a small badge that formally identified him as an agent of this particular bank. “Good morning, John!” “And a wonderful day to you, Mr. Machiavel. Might I inquire as to your business here? “Come to congratulate you, John!” Machiavel spoke in jovial, loud tones, but his eyes betrayed a cunning that disquieted John. “Your bank is one of our best branches nationwide!” “My thanks. But for mere congratulations, one expects a telephone call. You must have something more?” John smiled, leading Mr. Machiavel inside his office and closing the door. Once a small lock clicked somewhere inside the doorknob, John repeated his question: “Presumably, you brought something you wouldn’t rather send by mail.” “Ah, yes, indeed! We would send it by mail, but it’s time for a quarterly performance review and we thought we’d have to send a real human anyway, so why not now? I have a package for you, a couple recommended stocks, even one real investment! “Good. They are hard to find these days.” John smirked slightly, picking up on Machiavel’s use of we to describe him and the rest of Management. He was probably new – John had never seen him before – but he certainly seemed to fit the parameters of a banking job. “Aren’t they, though? It’s so unfortunate that stocks can go down. To add to those, two hundred bonds for the Camelot Construction Company, a little upstart in the Florida Keys.” “Oh, how nice. Anything else?” “That’s mostly it. I can get all the review information from your staff.” “Thank you, then.” “You are most welcome. It is always a pleasure to speak to you, John.” Machiavel nodded his head, tipped his hat, picked up his cane and marched out of the office.

Machiavel’s package was sitting neatly in the middle of his desk, wrapped in plain brown paper but nonetheless carrying with it all the atmosphere of a late Christmas present. John neatly removed the covering to reveal a small wooden box, that in turn contained a series of folders. Within these was the data on the stocks Mr. Machiavel had described – John sorted through them, setting aside the lone good stock as a nice, if slow, source of profit, and selected three of the seven others for a more dubious method of acquiring money. One folder contained some information regarding the Camelot Construction Company and the tendollar bonds it needed investors to buy in order to build new housing in the Florida Keys. They were what he expected – if you looked close enough, the company was owned by the bank, but the bonds weren’t, and if Camelot fell the bank would not be obliged to pay them back. But most people didn’t understand the rules of fine print. They would lap it right up – five percent annual interest over five years, invest a hundred dollars and earn twentyfive for free, an option to pull your money out at any time at almost no cost. John had to smile at that. With only a thousand of these bonds in Kansas, a state where nobody ever had or would see the Florida Keys, and, as such, they certainly wouldn’t see the lack of construction on the building site. Since nobody would buy too many, there would be little real damage – and thus little outcry or investigation – when none of them ever saw their money again either. He’d sell them on his trip to the city tomorrow. Then, he switched back to managing the more daily business of the bank – the fast paced manipulations of the stock market that had brought him and the town so much prosperity. Making overpriced investments in four different minor businesses, he had brought up their stock prices over the last two weeks, from less than two dollars to more than four. Now, he decided, one of these fruits was ripe for the plucking – with a swift telephone call, a representative from a bank in the city agreed to the deal, which he would sign in person the next day. The trade in futures, they had already agreed, priced each share of the stock at five dollars, redeemed four weeks from now, where by the charts they should be worth twice that or more. And when the bubble burst, and the price dropped to two dollars again, or maybe one, or a half, John would triple his investment. It wasn’t even illegal, and he was very good at it – if he wasn’t, he never would have trusted himself with the townspeople’s money. And there was always enough in other investments that even if one or two or fully a dozen stocks collapsed, he would have enough funds still available to rebuild the bank’s fortune. That day, what few clouds were in the sky vanished by midafternoon, and one of the most pleasant days the year had yet seen visited the small town. John called off all the bank’s work early to let everyone enjoy the sunshine, which served as a prompt for a public halfday holiday. When the school closed, most of the parents left their jobs in favor of their children, and John began a game of baseball in the field just outside town, where young and old alike enjoyed themselves until dusk. John was always the pitcher, never formally choosing a team, and he was very good at it – observant enough to find the strengths and weaknesses of every player, socially brilliant enough to almost never strike people out, but instead let them hit fly balls that would easily be caught, which seemed less unfulfilling. While he was on the mound, the difficulty of batting miraculously adjusted itself to the skill of the batter, so that each team would have a few temporary heroes. But he always proved their fallibility, striking them out and then letting a totally unskilled player get a triple on his next hit by throwing a pitch that would invariably fly into right field when the defender wasn’t paying attention. Most remarkably, he accomplished all this without ever deliberately fumbling the ball himself – whenever it went near him, he caught it with astounding grace and cast it to the relevant baseman in an instant, with accuracy that ensured it was always caught – they had simply to keep their glove still, and the ball would land in it. He was by far the most skilled player amongst them, in many more ways than they would have guessed. Late that night, he returned to his home, bathed, and climbed gratefully into bed. The game of baseball left him lacking in energy, but everyone had fun, his dignity was maintained perfectly, and the business of the bank was well in order. Tomorrow the deal in futures would become a contract, and another fortune would become his – or, more accurately, the bank’s, and thus the town’s. Through his economic brilliance, he had brought immense prosperity and wealth to the people who had adopted him so many years ago, had vastly improved their quality of life. It was, really, all he could do, after his foster parents had died – the bank had offered him a chance at repaying the debt he owed them. And he was.

The twentyfifth dawned bright and early, not a cloud in view, and by seven in the morning he was on his way to the city. The fancy motorcar was painted sleek black, and he sat in the back as a chauffeur drove it expertly along the road. The dry, dusty and bumpy path gradually gave way to pavement, as more vehicles joined them, and soon he was riding past the familiar rail line, the city’s artery, its lifeblood constantly replenished by the immense convoys of freight that trundled into the station so many times a day. The railroad had chosen to head northwest from the city, though, skipping past his town before he had even been born, and it had stayed, unchanged, as a backwards and rural farming community. In many ways, that was good – he had no desire to see fifty thousand more people arrive in the veritable gold rush that he knew always occurred whenever rail lines were placed, the hundreds of profitdriven adventurers out to build a new (and wealthy) life in a boomtown. It would have ruined the atmosphere. A few raindrops scattered from the sky, splashing on the windshield of the car. Now they were passing houses, the first outlying settlements that led into the city itself. It wasn’t an especially large city, not nearly like New York, which he had visited once – that great capital of trade so thoroughly dwarfed everything he had ever seen, with its millions of residents, and always alive, traffic of cars, trains and pedestrians flowing ceaselessly through the city streets like blood in veins, driven through their lives by the everbeating pulse of the ticker above the Stock Exchange. It had been an incredible sight, and he could never help comparing his home to that fabulous metropolis. Here, ten floors made a skyscraper. The rain steadily increased in strength as he neared the city bank, until it gushed in immense fountains from the blackened clouds above. When, twenty minutes later, he first viewed its doors, he could barely perceive them through the storm. Still, he had seen the bank many times before: it was a building much larger and yet much lesser than his own. As the chauffeur drove away to park his car, John glanced at the fourstory setup, with its fancy fake gold weathervane, broad glass windows and the wide doors that – despite the rain stood open, beckoning him in. Something was odd, though. He stood still in the downpour for no more than ten seconds, yet in that time two more cars had already pulled up, and four people, wearing the clothes of laborers, had breezed past him with an air of urgency. A river of noise flowed through the open doors to match the river that the street was rapidly becoming, and he could see far too many people rushing about inside. Normally, banks were quiet and closed, especially with the weather like this. He would have been informed if there were a convention here, but why else would so many people be inside? A blazing bolt of lightning struck across the sky, startling him out of his private musings, and he realized his suit would not be improved by complete saturation. He darted for the entrance, escaping the torrential rains. His original suspicion was immediately confirmed. A cacophony of noise greeted him, each dissident voice merging into the chaotic antiharmony of a choir of demons. Easily eighty or a hundred people were inside the bank’s lowest floor, crowding the room and rushing to find attendants and secretaries. A dozen tables were set up, where the bank’s employees were herding frantic customers into lines while brokers worked urgently at some unknown business. What the hell is going on? John could find no explanation. All he could do was find Mister Tyvus, the manager who had spoken to him over the telephone and invited him over the day before, and hope there was at least a vague semblance of planning to this gathering. It didn’t seem likely. He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to make some sense of the insanity about him. He couldn’t. Twice, he found an employee who wasn’t already talking, and twice another person lunged in front of him before he could even start a conversation. He was simply being lost in the storm. After five minutes, he gave up and simply walked towards the staircase in the back left corner of the room, behind a line of desks. Yet more tuxedoclad economists rushed up and down, carrying heavy files and huge briefcases bulging with papers. A congregation of people surged like a tsunami against the desks, and the areas between them were cordoned off. John pushed his way towards one of the cordons and tried to catch someone’s attention, but couldn’t. He considered simply ducking under the cordon, but immediately saw the flaw with that plan. It seemed unlikely that his business meeting could still be conducted, and he might end up leading a tide of revolutionaries unintentionally to storm the bank’s upper floors. Besides, he really had no idea what was going on, and all his efforts to find someone to talk to had been in vain – there were simply too many others trying to do the same. And with that thought, a solution occurred to him. He had been taking the wrong approach, trying to find one of the badly outnumbered employees to get the answers that everyone else in this room already had. Instead, he pulled aside tall man in farmer’s clothes who didn’t seem too panicked, and asked: “Excuse me, but what in heaven is happening here?” “Don’t you know?” He replied, his agitated voice almost drowned out by an immense boom of thunder. “The stock market is collapsing!”

Meera Limaye

Running Back and forth, back and forth. The birds were never pleased with their tree, embarrassed of their home. The way they sulked over to other trees looked like there was the weight of something hanging over their wings. Everything in our neighborhood acted that way. There were all the same people, all the same houses but everyone seemed to be cloned, only doing what they were supposed to, no extra effort added. It was wearying and draining to observe what was outside the dirty window. The grocery store that shut down months ago gazed at me with beady eyes. Hoping for what? I wish I could assure it that something was going to happen, and that everything was going to be okay. But I never lied. “I’m almost ready, get your things together.” Momma was in the bathroom changing for work. Sitting on the porch outside I saw the sorrowful grey color of the sky perfectly matched our motel room door. I eagerly waited to go to work with Momma. Every time I did, I learned something new or saw something so interesting that I would stare at it for hours just to memorize every little detail. Something about that house inspired me, but I couldn’t understand what. Maybe I wanted to have a job like the man that owned it, working with government officials to decide what citizens could and couldn’t do. If only I had the strength, the right to achieve something like him. He worked for the South African National Party dealing with important issues like whether colored people should be separated in schools, hospitals and public places. Some days I sat down next to the window at their house and looked at my reflection. I pictured a different world where everything was the same except for my skin color. Just for one day I wished that the color of my skin would blend in with everyone else, would match the color of a single sheet of paper. White. What did it mean? Apparently, in my world it seemed to mean power, authority and dominance. Momma came out onto the porch and stroked the back of my head gently with her hand. “You feeling okay today, Hon?” “Yes Momma,” I smiled and tried to convince her that I was fine. Yesterday I had seen a family of three. I was ambling home from the garbage dump two blocks away when I saw a mom, who couldn’t have been more than thirtyfive, a dad, who seemed quite content with their family walk, and their baby boy, smiling and drooling as I passed by. What I saw was astonishing. The woman was white, the man was black, joined together to create this baby? How could it be? My eyes were lying to me, showing me what I wanted most to see. The perfect world, where people of all colors could live together in peace. A world where I could attend the same schools, use the same hospitals, and be treated with the same hospitality as any white man. I felt jealous, angry, and all of a sudden I felt like the walls of my chest had finally caved, squishing every bit of discrimination I had ever seen into my heart for me to remember. I sprinted home for the remaining block, my salty tears moving parallel to my eyes with the increasing speed. My legs burned, my vision was blurred and my heart ached but I kept running. I bolted up all five sets of stairs until I was home. I ran to the bathroom and stayed there for hours, refusing to come out. I heard the soft click of the door as the two of us walked down the remaining stairs. I was carrying the clean laundry that we linedried on our porch yesterday. As a slight breeze blew across my face I could smell the fresh scent of the newly washed laundry’s detergent. The clean laundry was a fresh start, a new beginning after the rough cycle that separated the different colors and types over and over again until everything was so washed out that there was nothing to be but brighter. We continued to walk down the dilapidated threadbare street. I had a feeling that Momma wanted to talk to me, try to prove to me that the world was fair. Whenever she walked slowly enough for us to look each other in the eye I knew something was coming. “You know, this world will separate whomever the hell she wants to separate,” she announced. Even though I had heard this many times before, it still hurt. My Momma noticed so I looked down, embarrassed to show any emotion. I knew I had to be strong for the sake of my family, for the sake of my race. It wasn’t working out so well. She paused for a moment, looking to the sky and taking deep breaths. Momma always seemed to get angry or worked up whenever she talked about this world. All the pain she had lived through scared me enough to keep my mouth shut. I nodded and fell behind while her pace increased once more. I could tell we were done talking. It took a lot out of Momma to tell me these things and I knew that I needed to be mature and go along patiently with my job today.

Ryan Lynch

Phil

Phil always comes home to a reasonably sized house with a respectable price tag. Phil always goes to bed in his reasonably sized bedroom in his respectably priced king sized bed. So, Phil feels accomplished in his mostly meaningless life. In fact Phil feels accomplished in almost everything he has ever really done. To Phil this is a blight that hinders is movement toward new accomplishments. Phil is seen as the good old guy who can always be counted on. He smells like the nice fruity shampoo he buys with the money from his successful job, and looks like a typical handsome middleaged man. Phil is not shun from the groups at the watercooler nor is he avoided else were. As it would seem, Phil has everything most everyone would want in his or her life. One day coming home to his reasonably priced house he hears the playing of the children, who live in the not so reasonably sized house next door. Every once in awhile Phil will hear these children exchange infantile words. Sometimes Phil would go up to his second storey window and look down at these playful things. He did this because it reminded him of his own childhood. Childhood, a point in Phil’s life were he had his golden age. Phil felt this but he did not understand it for it was a time were he had little to no accomplishments. This diminutive instant of thought that was induced by looking at the children was ignored though. Maybe this was because Phil was hurt by what he had lost, or maybe it was because he could not accomplish an understanding of why he felt the way he did. The way Phil lived on from this moment was greatly different from the days of his past life. Although Phil did not physically change any of his daily routines he felt befuddled. Now when he came home he did not see a reasonably sized house but and empty one, now when he went to bed he did not see a reasonably sized bedroom but a barren one. Never had Phil had such depressing thoughts, never had he wanted something else in his life. Maybe, Phil thought, he should go down the road he had never ventured down. A path focusing on Phil’s own wants and needs. This concept is mysterious to Phil. He pondered it. Hours on end he sat at his work thinking, instead of doing the task set in front of him. “Odd” whispered Phil, as he burned a hole in his café mug with his stare, he had never even taken a vacation. Pushing himself out of his cushioned chair he took steps toward his bosses luxuries corner office. Upon entering with a short knock Phil’s boss says, “Phil, how’s that report doing?” “Oh it’s doing just fine…” responded Phil “So what seems to be the problem?” Phil’s boss says looking up. “Well truth is I haven’t been feeling like myself, so I was wondering if I could, have a little time off?” Asked Phil uneasily “Gee Phil I’d hate to loss my main cash cow around here.” He said as a look of annoyance flashed across his face. “That may be but I could really use my vacation” “Never have you come in here and asked that, I hope your not losing it Phil” “No, I just need a little time” “Good I’ll give you a week then, but I expect you back in on time” Said his boss looking away; telling Phil it was time to leave. Phil’s emotions were mixed from his encounter with his boss. He was glad that he was allowed to take time off but he was insulted by how he was talked to. His boss had always conversed with him in such a manner, only now though did he notice how condescending he was. It did not anger Phil just made him even more pleased that he would be having his very first “vacation”. Spending so much time at home was just boring for Phil. Nothing to work on or think about. Intel this moment Phil had always been working on something even at home he thought of what he would have to do. Having all those strains removed was in a way magical but painful. All the time he spent skipping from channel to channel expanded his understanding of how people worked, but was time that could have been spent on expanding his career. Upon moving past a channel, with a never concluding infomercial, he came across a documentary of a foreign country. Phil was intrigued by this. To him the far off distance lands that were depicted on his flat screen were enchanting. Sitting in his armchair he felt his mind wander as it followed the hostess of the show. Site after site was presented to Phil and each one was marveled as much as the last. He speculated if these images were as extravagant on his screen as they might be in person. Soon Phil found himself craving this alien land. Could this be the something more he wanted in his life? Climbing into his car Phil slipped his key into the ignition, stirring the engine to life. Shifting to reverse he guided his car to the road were he eased his foot onto the gas and drove off to his destination. Phil found himself next to a small window, with little to no space to himself. Bellowing filled his eardrums as he reached 150 mph and lifted from the ground. As Phil looked down out of the tiny window he saw the cars, the houses, the trees and realized how small they were. In that brief instant Phil swore that he felt like a child again.

Zoe Pierce The Prostitution of America I don’t think many of us realize how privileged we really are. Every useless thing that we need is available on any street corner. Everything tells us to buy, buy, buy and the corporations train us so well that we literally have become addicted to shopping. But if you find the one thing that really matters, you realize that none of those material items are important anymore. When I realized this, it was about a girl. And yes, I’m aware of how stupid I sound. I was in a gas station minimart when I realized that I cared for her. The ironic thing about it was that she was so special in a place so common. Throughout the years of growing up together in the same small town, I had never given any thought to her. To the rest of us, she was just a loner. No one needed to be friends with her because she acted as though she was better off without any. She thrived on independence and was the type of girl who made smoking look classy. So ever since that day at the gas station, I’ve had this feeling for her I’ve never had before. The problem is that I don’t really know why I have a sudden interest for her, and that is what really pisses me off. Pulling up my old junky Toyota to the gas station, I got out to fill up the tank. Having an urgent snack craving, I went inside the minimart. Opening the door I saw the sickly pale clerk reading a magazine, not amused. He didn’t acknowledge that I entered. Rows of shelves surrounded me with products laying on them. They all looked identical. Sameness was stacked over and over again, neatly organized on the same gray shelves, perfectly dispersed through the store. I looked at the ground and noticed the dust bunnies sitting like an audience, watching me sift through the alikeness. I picked up one object, acting like it was more important than the rest. Hearing a rustling beside me, I looked to my right. I saw her. Just like the store clerk, she didn’t acknowledge me. I couldn’t even relate to her, I was just like every other teenager in town. Finally she glanced at me, and saw that I was holding something. Both her and I knew that nothing in that store was special, except her. Staring longingly at the bleak shelf, she then gently walked towards the front of the store and asked the clerk for a pack of cigarettes. And just like that, she was gone. Now I’m lying in my bed wondering what to do. I had a plan to talk to her at school, after our encounter. But of course the universe hates me and she wasn’t there all week. I feel my epiphany come. I’m realizing how sucked in I’ve become. The big industries have turned me into their meat puppet. I’ve been trained to only care about the things I buy. I feel numb. I can’t just have her. It’s not as easy to go down to the mall and get whatever I want. I can’t just buy her like I do with everything else; that would be called prostitution. So is the U.S. just a big prostitute? Buying and selling to fulfill our desires? Or do we have the will to take a stand against consumerism? Unfortunately, seeing the standards we have (senseless killing, discrimination, the healthcare system, animal cruelty), my hopes aren’t very high. These thoughts are putting me in a fog. I hate myself for buying into this shit. Looking around my room, I see my posters. They’re of fancy cars. I remember I spent so much time and money buying these posters online and anxiously waiting for them to come in the mail. Glaring at them, I get up and started ripping them off the walls. The corners of the posters stay on the walls from the strength of the sticky tack I used to put them up with. Once again, another few bucks out of my pocket. On the other side of my room is a shelf of trophies I’ve won over the various years of playing sports. The figurines watch me do theses violent acts. I look back at them and run my arms over the desk that they live on. Golden plastic body parts now lay on the floor, broken into bits. My door swoops open and I quickly turn around. “What the hell are you doing?!?!” my mom asks, frantically. “I’m done,” I bluntly say. My forehead is sweating from the energy I burnt from my frustration. “WITH WHAT?!” she shrieks. After that, I don’t say anything. I walk out but she doesn’t follow me. She just stands there, looking at my destroyed room in awe. Grabbing my car keys, I storm out the front door. The first place I go is her house. Surprisingly, the house looks vacant. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. To my fears, it looks like she moved away. I get out of my car and walk into the yard. Peaking through the windows, I see an empty living room with a few cardboard boxes scattered about. I don’t want to move, no matter how weird I look. All these years I could have had the opportunity to talk to her, but no, I’ve had to sprout these feelings now. I press my face against the window trying not to get stressed out. My breath causes the window to fog up and condense. Rolling one of my sleeves down, I wipe off the water. As I rub it away, I see a women walking toward me in the reflection. I didn’t want to deal with anyone telling me to leave the property because I was trespassing or talking to a nosy neighbor. I am not in the mood. Slowly turning around, I roll my eyes and look up. It’s her.

elliE Stoermer

Ink at London’s door step

The thick scritch scratch of pens filled his space it was consuming him in the way the deep water of the ocean consumes your breath. The heavy burden of sleep deprivation continued pulling on his body as it had all morning. His work’s importance slowly slipped past him dribbling in to a corner where it would be retrieved and dusted off in a panic a few hours before it was due. This was his pattern of toil that continued day after day, without any of the world he wanted to see or any of the sights he wanted to show it. To him taking matters into his own hands only went as far as the first flight of stairs into the world’s tallest building. It was a mountain had attempted to climb over and over again but had never reached past the limits set by other people. The thick sludge of London’s society had long since dammed the river of thoughts that had once flowed in his head. Ideas that once filled his mind and overflowed out his mouth. They were now held fast behind a barrier of proper manners and the latest fashions of the city. He had talent, he knew this but nobody ever gave him the chance to prove it. Not a single person noticed him or more importantly his work. He could stand the fact that the voices many voices calling, singing even, out across the large busy room, were directed at every one but him. He didn’t mind the way people’s eyes slid from him to the next, it didn’t bother him in the slightest, and really it didn’t. What bothered Nathanial Withers was the fact that even with his talent he was stuck in some no name job at the bottom of the food chain. His writing practically exploded with excitement, perfect for big news. So why was he stuck here cramed in with a group of noname clingons who couldn’t come up with a catchy headline to save their lives (though is what situation a catchy headline could save a live he didn’t know) with a story as thrilling as church bells. Sure somebody probably found bells fascinating, and sure somebody most likely found the death important sounding nobody whose only accomplishment was to achieve almost nothing in a considerable amount of time, which in this day and age really wasn’t all that amazing. The death of said politician had almost no effect on the people of London when it happened just over two months ago, and would probably have almost no effect when he published the small article on his death which would be buried some where in the great papery folds of the London Times . This was he where he didn’t want to be, but he could deal with it. A large office with a real door and a nice potted plant wasn’t that important and he could take the current situation just fine and he could take being as transparent as a pain of glass too if he was able to do some actual work in stead of making something to start the fire with. He had real work to do and what he should be doing wasn’t going to stop him. There had been two murders, two horrifically fascinating murders that had the Scotland Yard at a loss for what to do now or how to catch the murderer. A beautiful web of possible devastating truths had been spun by this mystery of murder. With the only flaw being the spider the weaves only lies, which hung in the middle. Tales of crazy butchers and many knives had begun to fly thick through the air along with the throwing of blame and finger pointing. London was coming to its senses on the matter of the murderer on door step. And the newspapers would be the public’s connection to the case, their only life line to the terrible news that would keep them on the edge of their seats. Which was why the top reporters would be publishing anything about anything that would be any interest to know. Nathanial Withers was not a top reporter and he was not going to publish any thing of the sort. Least the chance would be very close to zero if he were just plodding away going on about a dreadfully boring man who did nothing in his life but had a title important enough to get a infinitely small piece in the newspaper. The chances were slightly better due to the fact that instead of working away going on about a dreadfully boring man with an important title he was using the plodding story to cover up police reports of the two murders and a map of the Whitechaple district. Mr. Withers felt that he, being brilliant would be able to crack this new case with ease and then write a fantastically fascinating front page article that would bring the truth to public’s many misinformed eyes. So putting pen to paper and ear to the thin wooden wall, incase anyone at all had information, Mr. Withers continued working using Sir plodding old man’s untimely and unfortunate death to cover up his work from prying eyes. Head full of the case and self full of the knowledge that others might never know he added his own scritch scratch to the room. He had barely gotten a sentence scrawled out in untidy hand when a sound he had grown to hate with interest sunk through the thin walls of his workspace. Loud chatter of the returning colleges back from lunch reached his ears, he gripped his pencil tightly. They were liars most of them, even the ones who told the truth were followers of the single worst man in the world according to Nathanial. Howard Cristwaters would have burned in hell long ago if Mr. Withers was in charge, but Nathanial wasn’t in charge and Cristwaters wasn’t a crisp (yet), so the abomination was aloud to flounce about beaky nose in the air, sweaty palms gesturing. Spreading the lies that took root and grew in to the invasive weeds that they were. Nathanial Withers’ pencil snapped sharply as the sound of a highpitched wheezing laugh rang out.

Tim Swan The Run Everything is gone. I knew I was dead, but it wasn’t like that drifting off feeling that you see in movies or books or whatever but I had just gone to a different place. Almost like one of those transporter machines that you see in space movies. I however had transported into just blank space, a sheet of white as far as the eye could see and it was unmoving. I can smell absolutely nothing, and there were no itches, no breeze on my arms, no pain. I hate it. I just stand there and there is nothing I can do. What would happen if I take a step? Is there gravity? Would I shoot straight forward with nothing to stop me like one of those laws of physics I should have learned in my freshman year? Could I even move? It occurs to me that I don’t even know if I have use of my arms or legs. I’m expecting it to be a great struggle but my first step into nothing was easier then walking in grass. I look down and to my surprise I have created a patch of grass. It grows at an unnatural speed until it is about 4 inches tall. My brain kicks into action and I think about walking in snow instead of grass and take another step. And then there was snow. I couldn’t help myself. Laughing like a little boy on Christmas I run around with my mind erupting with different thoughts, items, feelings and whatever flowing. After a couple of minutes I turn back to look at my handiwork. An oasis with palm trees and snowshooting geyser are off in the distance while closer to me is a small beach and a Kid Valley burger joint. “Having fun?” All of the happy thoughts from my mind whisk away and I whip around. Sitting there is an old man. He couldn’t have been more then 5’ 2” and weighed probably 90 lbs, but his voice was deep and silky and his presence calmed me, making me want to curl up into a ball and allow him to protect me for the rest of my life. He smiles and says, “I’m sorry, but my job requires me to ask you a couple of questions.” This is the last thing I expect him to say and I decide to say something intelligent and deep. I say, “You have a job?” I want to kick myself. The man smiles and says, “Yes. I own my own company.” “Wow,” I reply. “So I get the honor of talking to the CEO of a company?” “Exactly!” he smiles. “And I’m also the janitor and the mailroom clerk and the vice president and everything else!” Now I am confused, but he continues to smile and then says, “So how about those questions?” I sit down on the ground while the elder man conjures a magnificent and puffy chair for himself. “So,” He says, “You obviously must have realized that you’re dead by now. Can you recall how you died?” “I died in” “Oh no no no. You don’t need to tell me, just remember it. Access your mind.” So I think back. I remember I was driving on the highway at night. I was alone and tired but I had not been drinking or smoking or any of that bad boy stuff. In fact, I was coming back from a late night skiing adventure with Derrick and Alan. Then there were bright headlights, the airbag deploying and the sound of steel crunching in on itself screeching tires and then silence. I look up at him and he smiles and says, “Well I won’t quiz you more on how you died, that was just grand.” I was very thankful for that. It was starting to make my head spin. “So on to question #2 then,” he says. “Who would you like to see most right now?” The first thing that pops into my mind is my girlfriend Sarah, but after thinking for a bit I realized that I’d like to see the crew. What the school calls the five inseparable kids that do absolutely everything together. Me, Travis, Derrick, Alan and Nick practically lived together. Our parents all never really cared about us, all of us loved to ski and we all were the same age. At the moment we all are seniors in high school. Well, I was a senior in high school. It suddenly struck me that the crew was going to be incomplete. What would they do without me? I felt terrible for not thinking about it until now. The old man’s smile disappears and for the first time he looks very, very sad. After several silent moments he speaks. “Would you like to see them?” I nod. He closes his eyes. “Then my work here is done.” And then I am back. I am with them, next to them, yet they cannot see me. They are skiing, but it’s not the usual happy skiing that we always have. They are stony silent. I notice that they have all unbuckled and have hiked over the ridge to our secret powder valley, the spot that only we know about. Alan has my skis tucked under his arm. They go over the ridge and put my skis in the snow sticking up like an x. derrick puts a sign on the skis that reads, R.I.P CR. they sit down in the snow, wordless and stare at the skis. After what seems like an hour they one by one start to leave. Travis leaves last, kissing the skis before he goes. So it’s just me. I look at the mountainside. I look at the trees. I look at the tracks from the boots of my very best friends, knowing that I will never see them again. I look at the sign and think that I don’t want to rest in peace. Resting isn’t my style. I pick up my skis and set off on what is to be an eternal powder run. I shred in peace. And you know what? Somehow I know that the crew will always be enjoying the run with me.

In Memory of CR Johnson May he always shred in peace

Kaetlynne Tagle The Expedition The expedition group is now experiencing some bad weather conditions. This is their first bad weather since they started the expedition. Snow and freezing rain is now becoming to be a big problem for the group. They did not expect to encounter this much snow on the ground that their clothing and equipment were not sufficient for these conditions. They need to find shelter fast, but unfortunately there are no caves or tall canopy trees to shelter under. They were struggling, and couldn’t function well in this kind of weather. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue walking, everyone is exhausted from this terrible condition and we need to find shelter fast.” John demanded with a hoarse voice. “I couldn’t agree more, our men can’t go any farther at this rate or we are going to freeze to death.” Lewis replied in a very worried tone. Everyone tries to find any additional clothing from their supply to bundle themselves. “According to my map calculation we should be getting closer to a hilly part of this area where we should find some shelter.” John declared. Everyone agreed to walk farther trusting John’s calculation, because they didn’t have a choice. After an hour with no shelter in sight the men are getting frustrated and really tired. “Are you trying to kill us, do you even know where we’re headed?” One of the crewmembers asked John with a tired and angry voice. “I understand your frustration but please give a little more of your patience and time.” John said, trying to calm everyone down. As they walked for one more hour, the group was calmed down after seeing this beautiful scenery, which is like a winter wonderland. Most of these men have not seen such a nice scene. The surrounding trees have twigs and branches covered with white powdery snow and the ground was like a white smooth cream. After walking for a few more hours, they finally reached a great spot where they can settle down for a while until the weather conditions get better and get their supplies in order. So here they set up camp and get everyone out of harms way. At this point their food supply is getting low, so Clark rounded up a few of his men to gather and hunt for any food they can find. After an hour or so they came back from their hunt, complaining. “It’s tough to find any food in this climate, with almost everything covered with snow, finding any plants or animals for food are almost impossible”, declared one of the crew. They only brought back, what looked like to them some kind of reddish berry that is new to them, but did not find any animals for meat. Lewis and some of their crew have been very ill due to the terrible weather. John remembering what he learned from their earlier encounter with the Native Americans knew that what the crew brought back weren’t berries; they were a plant called choke cherry plant used to cure fever. John then boiled them with the snow that turn into water, and then ask the sick men to drink it. After only a few sips, there fever went down and they weren’t in pain anymore. Lewis was so amaze with the medicine value of the choke cherries that he ordered their crew to gather more of it to take back home. “We really have a lot of this to learn from these Native Americans and their way of life”, said Lewis. It was starting to get dark and late, so the men decided to just call it a night and sleep, since it’s been a long and tiring day. As the bright sun rises the next morning, the weather is much better. The storm has stopped and the sky is a nice clear bright blue with no hint of cloud, except the sun shining. Everyone feels relieved to see this change in the weather because now they will have a greater chance of finding food and it’ll be much easier for them to travel since there won’t be any snow on the ground. The group packed up the camp and the food and was ready to keep walking towards the mountains. Along the walk, Clark found a plant they haven’t seen on the expedition before. The group stopped walking and Clark examined it for a while. The flower was a beautiful flower with five petals on it and there were many surrounding it. It had yellowish greenish middle with buds centered in the middle. The color was light blue and light purple, kind of like periwinkle colored. “Oh wow, this a Linum Lewisii, also known as a Blue Flax.” Said Clark amazed. “This is really beautiful!” Clark took note of it in his journal and even drew a sketch of the Blue Flax. Some of the men knew what it was, while others had no clue of it at all. When he was done writing about the Blue Flax in his journal, the group continued walking, and they hoped to discover more plants along the journey.

Emma Middleton

Il Dottore

[This story is set in 1630’s Venice, Italy. Renzo is a young man who loves and is obsessed with a girl named Aria De Luca. He believes that she loves him too, but her family is keeping them apart. Aria and Renzo have only met once in their lives.]

Renzo lay himself down on the cold, hard tiles of the roof, pulling the thin cloak over his curled up body. This would be his bed that night. The house wasn’t far away, but he felt more at home up there than he ever had in a real bed. The night was black, and the only light shone from the crescent moon, high above his head. It barely permeated the city’s foundation. He untied his mask from his head and placed it so it wouldn’t fall. Renzo did not give the same consideration to his body as he did to his mask. As calm and unconnected as he was, Renzo was apt to a dreamless, trancelike sleeping, from which he always awoke in the same position he had fallen asleep. Consider him lucky, for he never had to worry about falling in his sleep. Soft curls hit solid pillow and his eyes slowly closed. In a few moments, the soothing sound of lapping waves and the gently tousling sea breezes put him into a deep sleep. With a snap his eyes opened, but to a very different scene. He was in Piazza San Marco, looking toward the Basilica. Faceless, nameless people were blurring past him, a sea of carnival reds, forest greens, and royal purples. Only two figures were clear to him. Aria, her light blue dress distinguishing her from the masses of sharper, deadlier colors, and little Gio, protecting her in a way only little brothers can. Gio’s hands were locked into the folds of his big sister’s dress, gently pulling her away with small, childish tugs. But Aria was moving, against her will, back into the consuming crowds. Away from Renzo. All the while, Gio’s blank eyes were fixated on Renzo, daring him to come after her, sneering at him when he couldn’t move a muscle. A blindingly bright flash and the scene changed again. Renzo was in the De Luca house again, in the same doorway as before. He heard the giggling speech of a young girl coming from the within the room. Turning the corner, he peered in. There sat Aria, her delicate fingers placed over her pink lips, staring in shock at the far wall. Behind her, and playing with her hair, stood Maria. Maria’s hand curved around her gossiping mouth as she whispered into her sister’s ear. Her unfaithful lips whispered lie after lie about him, turning Aria’s love into hate. Maria knew that Renzo stood in the doorway, but she didn’t care. She just smiled as her slimy, false words entered Aria’s ear. Renzo felt thousands of needles pricking his skin. He was in an alleyway, dark, damp walls on either side. Trash littered all along the worn down cobblestones, and the stench of human waste permeated the air. Fast flowing water told him that they were near Canal Grande; no little rio could make that big of a noise. The stinging of the needles became less noticeable, and he was able to concentrate on the babbling in front of him. Looking up, he saw Pietro, pushing Aria behind him with one hand, keeping her back from the battle, while readying the other fist for a long and bloody war. He wanted Renzo gone, wanted him dead, and would go to any means to see that it was done. Renzo saw that now. Finally, he also noticed the cutting, burning fury in his enemy’s eyes, contrasting to his calm stature and young, beardless face. The fight was on, Pietro’s curved lips told him so. A ringing smack sounded in his ears, and a different scene emerged. He was in Palazzo Ducale, he could tell by the grey metal and ugly stones everywhere. The home of the secret police had many torture chambers and prisons just for the citizens of Venezia. With the help of the two torches along the wall, his eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, and he could see a very large man grasping Aria’s fragile wrist with enough force to break it. Luciano threw his daughter into an open cell, closed the door, and locked it with a large grey key from his pocket. Renzo must have accidentally let out an audible noise, a little gasp of horror, because Luciano turned and stared at him with his hideously twisted face. Grabbing a burning torch off the wall, he waved it toward Renzo with frightening enthusiasm. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the fire shot angrily in front of Renzo’s already badly disfigured face. He didn’t need any more marks; he had enough for people to scream when they saw him. The madness of color went back and forth, back and forth, confusing his already upset senses until he could barely take it anymore. Red, yellow, orange, these were angry colors, colors of death and fear and hatred which he knew by now followed him, no matter where he was. All Renzo wanted was for them to stop; he only wanted the cool colors he saw so rarely. Her face was in front of his then. The delicate porcelain look to her perfect features calmed him, soothing the burn from the waving flames. The cool color of her skin, the soft pink of her lips, the clarity of her eyes, caused him to reach out and brush away the lonely tear that slid down her softly curved cheek. His hand hit a cold, hard substance instead. He curled his fingers around the iron bar, he used it to pull himself closer to her. Another tear slid down that perfect face. Aria said nothing, but her eyes told him everything. How she saw through his masks and disguises to the real Renzo. How much her family disliked them both. How much she hated her family and what they were trying to keep her from. That they should run away, far away, from not just Venezia but Italy too. And, most importantly, that she loved him. He knew in that moment that nothing else mattered. As long as she was there, his life would be complete. Life without her was unimaginable. It would be like a fish trying to live his life without water: completely impossible. He would have to find some way for them to be together, some way for them to get away from her family. There was a way, he knew it. Promising and vowing to the tune of the huge clock tower, the one he could hear so clearly, Torre dell’Orologio, he would find a way. He had to. There was no other choice: he knew, for him, that it was either live with her happily ever after, or die trying. It was then that the scene changed one last time. Nothing marked the shift but a blur in his vision. He was in a street that had shown up in a thousand memories, a million nightmares. A woman’s broken body lay on the ragged, blood stained stones. It was his mother, the way he had found her at just ten years old. But Renzo crept closer to look at her face again: he could barely remember it. Pulling back a curtain of hair from her face, he looked into her lifeless eyes. Screaming, he turned to run, it couldn’t be true. Renzo ran as fast as he could out of that alleyway while Aria’s lifeless porcelain features stared on.

Holden Weihs The Perfect Sell Greg arrived at the used car lot at noon, a wallet full of hundred dollar bills in his pocket. The lot was large and filled with rusted and dusty old cars, with balloons attached in a futile attempt to make them look less depressing. In the center of the lot was a small, onestory building, which was mostly garage. A gigantic purple gorilla perched atop the building, holding a sign reading “OUR PRICES OUR APEMAZING!” “Heh,” Greg chuckled, looking at the gorilla. “Apemazing. I get it. Huh huh.” He absentmindedly wandered around the lot, looking from car to car. Each was missing something. One had no windows, another no tailpipe. Several lacked wheels, and almost all were short at least one seat. The cars had presumably once been painted in many different colors, but now the paint was stripped off, leaving them all gray. Greg came to an old minivan, which had probably been blue in a distant age. The minivan was minus a rear window, and certainly had no airbags. The interior was dusty and had no seats, but immediately there was something about it that Greg liked. Maybe it was the fact that the headlights and grill seemed to smile at him, like they were old friends of his. “Hi, Mr. Car,” Greg said, waving at the smiling van. “How are you today?” The car did not answer. “I like you, Mr. Car,” Greg said. “I think we should be friends.” “So do I,” the car replied. “AAAAA!” Greg screamed. “Devil car!” “Whoa, calm down, man!” the voice said again, and Greg realized that it was not coming from the car, but rather from behind him. He turned around, and found himself facing a tall man in a baby blue suit. The man had perfectly combed golden hair, overflowing with various gels. His eyes were pale blue and his skin was orange. He was smiling widely, showing off a uniformlysized, pearly white set of teeth. His bowtie was red and his jacket blue and unbuttoned, revealing a white undershirt. The man was looking at Greg, smiling and chuckling merrily. “I see you’ve taken a liking to that old beauty, eh pal?” the man said. “Um,” Greg answered. “Yep, she’s a beaut,” the man said, approaching the car and looking it over. “Perfect for a guy like you.” He turned back around to Greg and held out his hand. “The name’s Sal. Pleased to meet you.” “Um…uh….um uh um,” Greg replied, as articulately as he could manage. “You are?” “Of course I am, buddy,” Sal laughed. “You’re the kind of guy I like.” Greg gingerly reached out and took Sal’s waiting hand. For a moment, he was unsure of what to do, but then Sal began to shake vigorously. Greg pulled out of his grasp, uncertain of what was going on. Sal laughed again. He seemed to constantly be doing that. “So, what’s your name, pal?” “My…my name’s Greg,” Greg said, still confused by this unusual character speaking to him. “Great to know you, Greg,” said Sal. “Now, what kind of car are you looking for today?” “Um…” “Come on, what do you want?” “Um…” “Before next year, buddy,” Sal said without dropping his wide smile. “Uh…a car,” Greg said, unable to think of a better answer. “Of course you are!” Sal exclaimed, spreading his arms wide open. “And boy, do we have cars for you!” Suddenly he was at Greg’s side, his arm around his shoulder, walking him away from the van and through the lot. “My friend, you will not find a better collection of smooth runners anywhere in the U.S. Anything you buy from us is 100% guaranteed to never let you down. We have a promise to uphold” “Why do you keep calling me your friend?” Greg asked. “Because I am your friend, buddy!” Sal answered joyously. “You and me, we’re a lot alike. I can just tell that from looking at you.” “Really?” Greg asked, wideeyed at the prospect. “Of course!” Sal shouted. Greg’s mind was reeling. No one had ever called him a friend before. He had heard of it happening of course, but never to him. He never thought anyone would be enough like him to be his friend, but now this stranger was calling him a friend and saying they were just the same. It was, at the same time, the oddest and most wonderful thing in the world. “That’s great!” Greg yelled back, making Sal flinch from both the volume of his voice and the smell of his breath, but Greg was too overjoyed to notice. “We’ll go to the movies, and the park, and we’ll have fun being friends!” Greg said, talking faster than he ever had before. “And I can go your house and you can go to mine and I’ll introduce you to Winston and Charlie and” “Slow down, Greg old pal,” Sal said, letting go of Greg. “We can do all that, but first let’s get you into one of these cars.” “Uh huh,” Greg said, bobbing his head up and down. “Yeah, let’s do that.” Sal laughed. “I like your attitude, man. Now, let’s go check out some of our vintage models.” Sal turned away from Greg and began walking across the lot, Greg following close behind. Greg was still raving, listing all the things they would do together. As he talked, the smile dropped off of Sal’s face. “We’ll go to the park and I’ll show you my favorite pond to feed the ducks and then I’ll call my parents and tell them that I have a friend, and then we can go roller skating, or ice skating, whichever one you like, and then we can have a sleepover!” The smile popped back onto Sal’s face. “Now, you are just going to love some of our older models. Some of them are fifty years old, and still in tiptop condition!” Greg was barely listening. As impossible as it seemed, after forty years of loneliness, he had finally found a friend.

Ms. Harris Period 3

Table of contents

Farouk Allen Diego Chavez Tom Engel Amanda Eshelman Robert Godlewski Nathan Hannah Amie Hsieh Zachary Jaeger Jade K. Steven King Crisleen Malabanan James Mclean Chelsey Morgan Eric Mulhern Nhi Nguyen Jason Resha Colin Rudnick Luke Stevens Elissa Sutlief Keelan Tidwell Morgan West Marco Willis Hannah Winter

Farouk Allen The Willow Tree The night was still, trees didn’t move, leaves didn’t rustle, even the loudest noises in the neighborhood seemed to have gone away for this particular night. The clock in the main room read 7:35 p.m. Terry paced through the room with anxiety that ran through his whole body. The fridge opened. Terry bolted into the kitchen to see who it was. “What? Got a problem?” One of Terry’s housemates said. Terry didn’t bother to reply, but instead just sped back into the main room and stood by the door. Sweat trickled down Terry’s neck as he stood by the door tapping excessively on the wood floors. 7:36 p.m.: “Where is she? It’s almost too late”, Terry whispered to himself. Terry’s accomplice came from the backroom. “I think we should try this again some other time, there is too many people in the other buildings. You will surely get caught before you even have time to make it to the gate” she said. “Another time? You’re kidding me right? We have been trying this for nearly two months, and when it’s go time, you’re trying to bail on me?” “I’m not bailing on you, I just feel it’s too sketchy, I mean think about it, every time the door opens, the alarm sounds, we don’t have the code to the alarm, and even if we did, there is 3 other buildings with more staff in them. We have a plan all set, let’s do it in a week or so, when its ideal conditions.” Terry and Maya had been arguing throughout the week about when is the best time to escape. But when Terry was alone, Maya planned for her own escape, without Terry. There was an awkward silence between the two, and everything was at a deadlock. Both Terry and Maya had good points, but neither would agree with the other. Every second that passed was valuable time they needed if they were to escape today. 7:38 p.m.: Doors began to open and close, people transitioned from room to room. Terry and Maya were in the main room when they began to get into a dispute. “I’m done helping you, you’re thinking too selfishly and if you were a friend you would think about both of us!” Terry shouted. Maya’s eyes narrowed, veins began to enlarge on her hands, one fist clenched, the other slowly did the same. Her breathing was beginning to quicken and her keen sense of self control was becoming weaker and weaker. “Just get out of my face, I never did like you that much…” Terry stated in a tempered voice. A small bead of sweat gathered at the forehead of Maya. It concentrated on a narrow path down her nose, and when it reached the tip, it fell. Maya’s eyes blinked almost in a slow motion, and it began. Right hand extended, connected with Terry’s nose, and returned to her body. Terry stumbled backwards and gathered himself back to his feet. He put his hands up ready for battle, but Maya was already prepared. She charged at him with full force throwing fists left and right, kicking, hitting and pushing with all her strength. She jumped on him and began trying to choke him. Terry wasn’t built like most boys his age. He was very skinny and small compared to Maya. She exercised daily and worked towards her dreams of being a competitor in the Olympics. Terry had nothing on her. He often sat under the willow tree, alone and seldom did he exercise, other than the usual walk to and from his room. A loud rumble came from down the hall; footsteps proceeded towards the brawl and before either Maya or Terry knew it, they pulled apart and set in the corner. Maya was pulling away trying to get at Terry. Terry sat panting and holding his stomach. 7:39 p.m.: All the fuss had boiled down to Terry locked in his room and Maya locked in hers. Neither had dinner and both were lying on their backs in their beds, wishing revenge on the other. All of the other housemates were starting rumors about the incident and how it started. Terry heard two boys down the hall laughing at how he got his butt kicked by a girl. Terry was furious. His plan was foiled and he couldn’t leave his room for the night. Maya on the other hand was beginning to calm down and realize she had not only won the fight but also made her point. Terry and her wouldn’t not be escaping tonight ,and Terry would be stuck in confinement. The two enemies were only 3 rooms apart and could hear each other if one desired. Terry started shouting at Maya, attempting to get her started again. She just chuckled and lay back down. “I hate this place! Everyone here sucks! When I get out I’m running away! I’m never coming back and I’m never seeing your jerks again!” Terry shouted. Maya heard Terry’s words and simply burst into laughter. She knew she could leave when she was 18 years old, and she had the least amount of trouble getting along with the people at their group home. Everybody respected her and the staff treated her with the up most respect. She had no intention of leaving with Terry. 7:40 p.m.: A piece of paper slipped under Terry’s door. He leaped from his bed to inspect the note. “3:00 a.m. wait for the knock.” It read. Terry was confused but decided to listen to whoever wrote it. He lay back down and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he had fallen fast asleep.

Diego Chavez Wednesday That day could have been like any other. Probably a typical adventure for one my age: Waking up in the morning at a ridiculously early hour, getting to school with a partially functioning and drowsy brain, surviving the day there with slow lectures, getting back home to work on whatever the teachers assigned at school, and having the rest of the day to do whatever I wanted. That final, golden step of an average day resembled the finish line of the race for me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t there yet. As I arrived at my house from school that day, I headed straight for my room (the only place that isn’t affected by what mood I happen to be in). It was quiet in the house, and the sunny, clear sky added a relaxing feel. I decided to head for the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and found a suitable granola bar that I took straight to my room. Preferably, I eat my food in my room, with the exception of family meals and watching movies in the living room. Granola bars, other than the raisin ones, make for good treats. It was satisfying, but then I remembered that I had homework. Not looking forward to homework assignments due the next day at school, I decided to eat my snack slowly, put off what I could for later, and hope there would be something else to keep me occupied instead. As if I had prayers answered, my phone rang. I was hoping it would be someone like Brian, or even Stacie… a call from her would have made my day. After all, she has got to be the prettiest girl at school. Everyone tells me she likes me back, but Brian told me not to “count chickens just yet,” whatever that meant. Disappointment shrouded me like a rain cloud when I found out it was my mother. Not that I disliked her, I just would have preferred a call from Stacie. Her voice is always cheery and full of so much happiness. I hope no one else likes her, but I didn’t lie to myself I would not be surprised if someone did. I snapped out of my thoughts on Stacie and answered the phone. “Hey, mom. If you’re wondering, then I’m good, I had a normal day at school, and I’m working on homework”. Mom only ever calls to ask questions and expect answers like those, and I impatiently decided to let her know beforehand. “Glad to hear that, Cameron”, She answered hurriedly, sounding like that wasn’t important to her at the moment. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Harold has escaped out of the house again, and the neighbors called. They tell me that he’s a couple blocks down towards 153 rd , waiting with Ellie, our friend that lives over on that street. I need you to go fetch him, please.” It sounded like a lot more work than I should be doing to me. “But mom, why do I have to do it?” “You’re the only one at home, and it would only be a five minute’s walk, there and back.” “Can’t Ellie just bring her back here? I have too much homework to keep me busy.” That was not a lie, and it made me glad to know it. “She’s an old lady, Cameron. You’re a strong young man. Who is most likely to walk an anxious dog that pulls so violently on that leash?” “Point taken… I suppose that you never really won arguments against your mom either, did you?” That made her laugh. “Oh, darling. Just go do it. Have a good day, I will see you later!” I ended the call with an “Okay, bye,” and got ready to go outside. Regardless of the sunny day, it was still slightly cold. Thankfully, it was only cold enough to need a thin jacket. I put it on and grabbed a leash for Harold, but somehow that made me think of Stacie again. It was strange to have a jacket and leash randomly remind me of her, but I didn’t question it. Last time I checked, it is hard to stop thinking about someone you love if you loved them enough. Or at least that’s what they make it sounds like in love songs. With her in my mind and heart, I then left out the front porch to go fetch that crazy, wild dog. I swear, sometimes he forgets where his own home is. Walking down my street in nice weather like this at about three in the afternoon made it feel like summer. It gave me time to think about my life a little bit more, if there was much to think about. As I was walking towards the given location of my bothersome dog, I saw a man sitting on the sidewalk across the road. From the looks of his ragged clothes, long beard and dirty face, it seemed to be a homeless person, holding a coffee mug that was most likely full of change. Seeing those kinds of people always made me feel a very slight but strange sense of discomfort with myself. I was not afraid of him, and I felt quite sorry for him, but I just started to feel bad, like something about me was not right. As if, somehow it was my fault that he was in his unfortunate state. It puzzled me why I was thinking this, and it certainly made me wonder. Quickly, I sped up my walk. The homeless man did not look at me, fortunately. I caught up to Harold, greeted Ellie there, and walked the dog back home. This time I decided to take a different way home, because the poor old man made me feel awkward. Harold had been tugging at the leash like crazy, and it made me more annoyed than I already was with him running away. Before I knew it, I was back home. Everything was taken care of, and all I felt like doing was sleeping after some tedious homework. Then I wondered what was for dinner, and decided to stay awake for that.

Tom Engel An Icy Dilemma The streets were white with snow, and children all over the city played. Snow in the city of rain was a rarity, and everyone made the best of what they had, including Carl and Arty. Carl sledded down the sidewalk bordering the ocean, while his stepbrother slid behind him on his snowboard, occasionally sliding on the guardrail that prevented cars from driving into the ocean (directly against his mother’s wishes). Feeling mischievous, Arty decided to bend down, pick up some snow, and pitch it at Carl. “Hey!” Carl exclaimed, but Arty only laughed at his brother’s evident discomfort. He replied in kind with his own snowball, but he missed by a mile, which only increased Arty’s malicious glee. He did a little celebratory slide on the guardrail, cackling with happiness. “Arty, stop it! You know Judith’s told you not to slide on that rail! Besides,” Carl continued, “you’ve been grounded once already; do you really want more punishment? And if something happened to you right now, she’d skin me alive! You know she thinks I’m your babysitter.” “You’re not my babysitter!” retorted Arty. “I’m way too old for a babysitter; I can get along just fine on my own!” “I know that and you know that, but Judith doesn’t know that. To you, you’re still her ‘little angel’ and ‘precious pumpkin’ and ” “Argh, don’t remind me about that stupid name!” he says angrily. “I crawl into a stupid Jack O’ Lantern one time, when I was two, and Mom decides that it’s my title for the rest of my life!” Carl was silently suppressing his laughter at the mental image of a tiny Arty in a Jack O’ Lantern, but he couldn’t. It was just too funny, and he broke out guffawing. Arty gave him a snowball down his neck for his trouble. They stopped their snow vehicles and got out in favor of throwing compacted spheres of ice crystals at each other. Arty jumped backward to avoid a snowball, and succeeded…in jumping backwards over the rail. For a split second, time slowed to a crawl. Carl started moving against the air that suddenly became like tar. He willed his flesh to move faster, to make himself run faster toward his younger sibling, despite his legs’ banshee wails of torment. But he didn’t think of the pain. He thought only of saving his stepbrother from the icy depths. He saw Arty’s mischievous expression slowly turn into one of surprise when his feet didn’t hit the ground when he expected. Time suddenly rushed forward to its normal speed, and Arty plummeted into the ice ocean below. “Help, help!” he screamed as he splashed, but there was no one around except for his stepbrother. “Hold on, I’ll try to save you!” he yelled to the now flailing and splashing Arty. He quickly looked around to confirm that nobody was around. Then he grabbed his sled and leaned forward, letting it hang over the rail. But it was too short – there was still 5 feet between the rope on the sled and his stepbrother. His mind raced with other possible solutions. Perhaps he could tie his coat to the rope…but no; he would still come up short. The only thing available to him that was long enough… …is me, he realized with a chill. What should he do? Should he risk his own life to save Arty? If he didn’t save him, Arty would definitely die. But if he did, they might both die. He stood, petrified with indecision. But he eventually made up his mind and pulled the sled back up. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Arty screamed in terror, but Carl’s intentions soon became clear. He tied the sled to the rail, and climbed down, hanging from the sled by his ankles. But there was still a substantial gap between the two boys. “Stick your snowboard up so I can grab it!” Carl yelled, and Arty did so. Carl willed his fingers to stretch longer to grab the snowboard, and found purchase. Arty climbed up, and pulled his chubby stepbrother up once he got to the street above. Dripping and shivering, Arty hugged himself for warmth. He eventually recovered enough to say with chattering teeth, “Ththththanks, CCCarl. I’d bbe ddead if it ww wasn’t for yyyou.” Carl opened his mouth to say something, but let out a sigh, and simply nodded his assent. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s get home. You’re gonna need to warm up.” He put his arm around Arty’s shoulder, and as Carl felt Arty’s weight lean on him, he heard him mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like Don’t call me “kiddo.” Carl chuckled softly, and led his younger stepbrother home.

Amanda Eshelman

After the Show

Wow, it was unbelievable that my first show was a sell out crowd! I’d only been in the music business for two months! I was back in North Carolina, the town I grew up in and loved most in the world. “Hey Bryson! Great show you just had there, thirty thousand people is a lot! Want to go out and celebrate?” In some ways, I think Caleb was more excited than I about this show. “We could play some xbox 360! After that we could catch some z’s and then skate tomorrow! You down?” Apparently Caleb had already decided what were going to do. I didn’t even know the guy was going to be here! My mom must have given him tickets and a backstage pass. You know how those mom things go, always trying to get in the way. “Look man, I’m cool with the whole hanging out thing but, I didn’t know you were coming. If I did then I wouldn’t have made plans for tomorrow. I sort of promised this girl I’d take her out to eat and teach her how to surf.” Right about now is when I’m feeling horrible. Here I was telling my best friend that I’m going to ditch him. Caleb looked down and away from me quickly. He does that either when he doesn’t want to talk about something or is concocting a plan. “I’ve got it! You could bring the girl you said you’d do that with and she could bring her friend along. A double date!” His eyes were a glowing metallic sky blue. “It’d be so much fun and we could show off our team tricks that we’ve been working on.” “Alright man, let me call Emily and I’ll tell you what she says, I’ll be right back.” Emily is this amazing girl that I’ve been going crazy about for the past three or four months. “Hey Em, yeah the show was great. No, I didn’t break a string,” we both chuckled. “Can I ask you something?” I told her Caleb’s plan and turned slowly around and not looking up, I waited for her sweet voice to chime back the answer to the burning question in Caleb’s mind. “Thank you bunches!” I said, “Remember this is for him, not me. I’ll see you tomorrow Em, I’ll be busy all night, so goodnight.” As I look up there he is, eye’s bright and big. “So I can go?! Tell your girlfriend she is amazing and the best and that you are the best friend in the world.” Caleb practically yelled, I swear he was going to hug me to death. Here it comes. In three, two, one. “Secret handshake, secret squirrels, make the tiny twirl. Throw it up, blow it up, bring around one more time. And jump, jump, jump till you fall. Secret squirrels will own you all! Hard to believe we brought the secret squirrels together in third grade,” we’d been best friends ever since and that handshake signified it. “That was way far back. Now about tomorrow, her name is Hannah. I’m pretty sure she likes surfers, so you might have to work on your one pack,” we both chuckled. When I didn’t have managers looking at me, Caleb and I would work out everyday before swim and surf season. Our motto, “gotta look good for the ladies.” We did, of course, pick up some girls. We got way more looks when we were resting and tanning though. I like to think it was the nerves. I’d be afraid to talk to someone too if they looked as amazing as Caleb and I did. Ever since then, Caleb hasn’t been working out as much as I have, but he doesn’t have to. I need to stay in shape so my immune system doesn’t go all wacko. “It’s going to be so much fun tomorrow! Chilling with the ladies, showing off our mad skills.” Caleb was basically gloating. Not so much for me to be bothered but to make himself feel cooler. I had to stop him right there. “I know you’re all psyched about getting to hang out with the girls and surfing with me like old times. Who am I kidding, you just want the girls.” We both started cracking up. “On a serious note though, I really care about Emily and please don’t mess around a lot. I know you want to have fun and everything but please, I’m begging you, do not screw this up. And don’t expect me to help you with keeping this girl. If she wants you to get her something, it’s coming out of your pocket.” “Honestly Bryson. You know me. When my ‘Secret Squirrel’ calls for me, I am there to back him up.” In Cabe’s language that means, “I’ll act to the best level of maturity as I can. I’m here for you.” “Also Bryse, I know how it goes. Just cause you’re famous doesn’t mean that you’re different. It doesn’t mean that I can expect things from you. I got this. Treat this girl like all the others before. You’re a good buddy Bryson, I’m not going to use you.” “Sounds good. Tomorrow, we are going to lunch at this fancy place, do you have some nice clothes to wear?” He shook his head. “That’s okay, ever since I got this job, I’ve been making some bucks, get what I’m saying? Do you want to go get something to wear before the food or after?” Right on cue both of our stomachs rumbled. I suppose that made up our decision.

Robert Godlewski

Story of John the Rubik’s Cube Master The year is previously 2010 and I am still the same old not famous John, hanging around with my cousins, Tom and Bill, who are basically the same age as I am and goofing around in my Uncle Isaac’s neighborhood Park. The park is at the edge of Chicago, Illinois. In the park has a big swing set with a big toy that has a steep slide, rock climbing wall, and a ladder for children to play on. Right next to the park there is a house where my Uncle Isaac and Aunt Ledeoka lives. Today it was not really busy so far when I am playing with my cousin’s Tom and Bill. Tom asked me, “Hay, John, can you solve this 4x4 Rubik’s Cube for me?” “ Of cores, he can any Rubik’s cube, Tom,” stated Bill with an obvious look on his face, “John can probably solve the 4x4 under a minute.” “Yes, I know that, but I want to see him solve it, not hear him solving it, and I want to take a video of him solving it.” Tom loved to take pictures of everything ever since he was born. I said, “sure I will do it for Tom, if he gives me the cube messed up really good for a minute.” “Alright then I’ll mess up the cube for you John.” Right away Tom ran to a neighbor across the street as fast as he can and told him to mix up the 4x4 Rubik’s Cube. The neighbor looked dumfounded for a second when he gave the cube to him and nodded to Tom. I’m guessing that he will mix it up. Before I know it Tom was back like if he ran a marathon in a couple of seconds. While breathing in and out heavily he said, “He’s going to do it in a minute.” Then Tom fell on the ground like if a gun shot him. “OK, I guess he is exhausted,” said Bill with a matter of fact tone in his voice. “Therefore we can play a game called intense catch !!” “What is intense catch , Bill?” “Intense catch is when you are in a park, you throw a ball around at each other, but don’t forget that it has to be in the park boundaries, you can’t hold the ball for more than six seconds, the ball cannot hit the ground.” “What happens when the ball hits the ground?” “Game over, comeon John you should know that one, gesh,” stated Bill with an annoyed voice. “Well sorry if I didn’t know that, Bill!” I said sarcastically. While lying on the ground, Tom groaned, “What?” “Alright, that is a yes from Tom, now how about you John,” “Well…alright if you say so Bill.” “Oh Yah, I for got one more rule,” “What the heck are talking about Bill?” said Tom in a puzzled voice. “Tom!” said Bill with his normal annoyed voice again. “Yah?” “Were you paying attention at all on what I was saying?” “Yes, I heard you say something about a rule and that’s a yes for Tom , but that’s all I heard after I was taking a nap, why? Bill! are you ok?” Bill looked like if he was going to smack his head wall of our Uncle and Aunt’s house and said to Tom with his annoyed voice, “Tom, You need to pay attention to me do you, know why?” “Why?” “Because I said so, therefore being the oldest out of the three of us” “Yah, by a month, so what” “Can we just play intense catch right now? Gesh.” I said with a board voice. While Tom and Bill were just looking at each other, Bill said, “Alright let’s play intense catch people.” Bill pulled out a soft ball from his pocket and threw it at me. I threw it back to Bill. Bill threw it to Tom like if it was really hot. Tom threw the ball to me. I smacked it to Bill. Bill smacked back to Tom and it got back to me, I threw I as far as I can. Then we looked at each other for a second and suddenly I felt my legs running. And when I looked back to Tom and Bill they were running at top speed. We were running and running. Before I knew it I saw Tom catch the ball and threw it at me. I reacted by jumping in the air and threw it back while running. Suddenly I saw the ball in my hands and with both of my hands I threw it up in the air and it was sinning. I was ducking because Bill and Tom were running straight at me like if they were two cars about to collide when I was right in the middle of it. Tom said, “I got it” “No, I got it” I was thinking, oh, no. Before I knew, it happened. Tom got it and fell on top of me. And then Bill and he said, “NOOOOOO! The game is over.” We saw our Uncle and Aunt’s neighbor that Tom talked earlier to and looked at us like if we were insane, and said, “OK, here is the Rubik’s cube that you wanted me to mix up.” “Alright” said Tom while he got up and took the Rubik’s cube like if there is no tomorrow; he ran to get his camera and camera equipment from the edge of our uncle and aunt’s house. Then he set up as fast as he could and said, “Here you go John.” I took it and looked around it for a while. “Are you ready to film, John?” “Yes.” “Alright, lets count down to three,” “Two,” “One,” “Recording, now!” The camera was rolling and I started to solve the 4x4 cube. I was solving the centers of the cube by this order; white, yellow, green, red, orange and blue. Bam, the centers are solved. Then I need to pare all of the edges so that I can solve the cube like a 3x3 cube; bam, I solved it. Next I am going to completely solve the cube like a 3x3. First I am going to complete the white cross. Then I will solve the three layers of the cube at the same time. Next, I will orient the pieces on the yellow face. Last step I will permute the yellow face. Before I knew it, I had solved the cube. It felt like a couple of seconds but it was a full minute. “Want to see the film?” said, Tom “Sure,” I came over to the camera with Tom and Bill. I was seeing myself solving the cube. It was really cool to watch. The seed that I was doing on the cube was incredible. This was cool to watch, I want this video to go on YouTube but I know that the video is going with the rest of my cousin Tom’s videos that don’t get watched that much because he has so much videos that It can fill up a whole apartment video.

Nathan Hannah A Memory The covers of my bed were too much to handle. I kicked them off, but pulled them back on not a half a minute later. The tall, white water bottle that usually pressed a faint ring into my hardwood nightstand was no use. I had sucked the life out of it, squeezed it to the point when I let go, it stuck to my tongue. I pulled it off and tried to remedy the red ring it must have left, while only air hissed back into the unsealed cap [confusing sentence]. I dropped it like a bomb, two stories of mattresses down to the war zone of crumpled white tissues strewn about the floor, surrounded by a fortress of lime bar popsicle boxes closing in on them with wooden swords, bearing bad jokes. I clutched the bed stand, preventing the sky from collapsing onto the battlefield. As I rolled back off the precipice my legs entangled in the covers. They were supposed to be allies but they turned against me. A double agent. Execution is the only way to deal with double agents. Unless of course, if were to turn them back to serve me again, a triple agent, I could get valuable information… I pulled the covers back up to my waist, not trusting them around my neck. Changing pressure from shoulder to shoulder and back to the other shoulder exposing the cool breeze from the leak in my window to my moist back. I instinctively clawed at my covers and pulled them up to my lower lip. And my temperature rose instantly. I knew I couldn’t trust you! I revoked the covers from my body and thrashed them to the floor. Without another thought I let gravity draw my head back to earth, my bed, to release the fifty hearts beating in my skull. I lay dormant, waiting for my head to stop contracting in on itself. A whole minute passed and the throbbing still hadn’t gone away. The springs of my bed crunched as I slid past were my feet were on the bed and compressed the squishy carpet. My legs slid by one after the other not picking the feet attached to them off the ground for the fear of the long plunge to the ground. The room was trashed from my living on it for the past two days, only leaving to go around the corner to the bathroom or across the house for headache medication, with a throbbing head, that’s the journey I was setting out on. My house is two stories tall from the back, with a deck, but from the front all you see is one. There are five bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. My room is downstairs, furthest from the stairwell. My room used to be my sister’s room but as soon as she went down to California for college I moved down there without second thought. It is a tangerine orange with a steel grey door. I shuffled around my steel grey door compacting my exiled covers behind it and set foot into the family room. The huge cabinet filled with threads, needles and fabric, sat parallel to the carpeted walkway, and lent me a hand as I stumbled over a misguided pillow. Finally aid had arrived. “I heard a big clunk, are you okay?” My grandma said not yet noticing my sweaty, nauseous, condition. Then Grandma did what every mom would do and put her wrist to my forehead. “You’re boiling hot honey!” No shit Sherlock, I figured that one out already . I thought to myself not wanting to offend her. “Yeah, I really am. Do you have any cold 7UP or more popsicles?” “Why yes I do. Now let’s get you over here to this couch.” She commanded as she headed for the kitchen medicine drawer. “ And some headache stuff too, please,” I hollered after her. She returned down the stairs, ducking under the low headway. In the dim light I could make out a scrunched, confused looking face, as if she had no clue what she was doing. She stood at the bottom of the steps looking puzzled. I hollered in my normal talking voice, asking if she had brought the medicine. She jumped like a firecracker and exclaimed, “Who goes there?” “ It’s me.” I replied. It had been quite some time since the last episode of grandma forgetting where she was, why she was there and what she was doing. “Goodness honey, you scared the bijeebers out of me! Why don’t you come back to bed?” “ No grandma, I need that medicine.” “Honey, why are you calling me grandma, you think I’m old? We may have been married for fifty years but that doesn’t give you the right to call me old. In fact you’re actually older than me! By a whole year!” “Grandma I need the medicine you went upstairs for, now!” I stood up to take the white child and grandma proof bottle from her that she had forgotten about but only one step, a third of the way, my turned blind. I couldn’t see. I felt my way back to the couch scooting my feet but something caught my toe and shoved it back into my foot. I fell like the Eiffel Tower with only three legs. I braced for impact and crashed over the couch, my head broke the wooden arm. There were beeps and chirps of birds in my dream. The blurred figures standing at the end of my bed resembled my parents outlined by swaying walls. The wall screeched to the side and an unfamiliar face started to talk at me. Nothing they said made sense to me, “Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding?” I didn’t reply.

Amie Hsieh

The Best Day of My Life I was strolling down the vacant hallway gazing at white floor, observing the few sparkles on it. Glancing up at the blinking fluorescent light bulb above my head. How long is it going to take him to come? I thought Track practice ended and I heard a cluster of girls sprinting past the hallway and going into the bathroom. “Oh my gosh we totally destroyed Bellevue!” “I know! That was so much fun” Then I spotted Lauren, and suddenly turned around. I was walking towards the front of the school trying to avoid her. The scent of floral perfume and sweat followed me. It made my nose throb. I heard a voice calling my name from down the hallway. “Alice is that you? What are you still doing here?” I knew from that tone of voice that Lauren talking to me. She was one of the most popular and meanest girls in the sophomore grade. Why does she want to talk to me? I thought I slowly closed my eyes tightly and opened them. Slowly turning my head. “Oh hey Lauren! I just had to retake my math test and I am waiting for my dad to pick me up.” “Oh… cool? Well I just had a track meet and we won!” “Oh Congratulations! Is track fun?” I said “I love to run so it is really fun for me” Lauren Said Why is she being nice to me, why isn’t she calling me names and telling me to go away I don’t understand! “Lauren, Why are you suddenly being so nice to me” “I thought I was a loser and no one liked me?” I asked. There was a few seconds of silence. I was gazing into her bright blue eyes waiting for her to respond. She finally broke the silence and said “Okay…” “I’m really sorry Alice…” “I just wanted attention so I turned to you to make fun of” “I thought it was fun, but now that I think of it….” “You made fun of me because you wanted attention?” “How could you!” I said. ‘I’m really sorry” “I shouldn’t have!” “I know what I did was wrong and all I can say is that I am sorry! I turned around and continued walking toward the door to leave the school. “Alice wait!” “Can we push that behind us and restart? Can we pretend that that week of school didn’t happen…can we be friends?” I had to think about that question for a while. Do I want to still be her friend after all those things she did to me? Is she really saying sorry? I decided I would give her a second chance. “Sure lets restart and be friends,” I said, “Hi my name is Alice! What is your name?” “Hi my name is Lauren.” “Nice to meet you” “You should really join track! I am the captain so I can put you on the team any time” “Oh my gosh really! I will join right now. I have always wanted to do track! “Okay well come to the locker room, you can meet all the girls on the team” We walked down the hallway. “This is the happiest day of my life!” I said “Umm that’s great hehe…” Lauren said. I walked into the locker room and there were about 20 girls! I’ve never been in the locker room before. The walls were white and purple, our school colors. The lockers looked like you could barely fit anything in them and every light bulb I seemed to look at was blinking and about to die. “Hi I’m Alice, and I am a new track member!” “Yay!” “Hi nice to meet you” “ I like your shirt!” “Congrats!” These girls were suddenly being nice to me too. It was really unusual. But now I am their friend, so I doesn’t really matter. I saw that they were all wearing these orange tiedye shirts that said Track 0910 and that had their name on the back. I felt my phone vibrating in the palm of my hand, I looked down and it said incoming Call from Dad. “Hello?” “I’m Here, Sorry it took so long, there was a lot of traffic” He said “It’s okay. I will be out in a sec” “Okay See you soon Bye” “Who was that?” Lauren said “Oh it was my dad, he is outside waiting for me, I have to go now. Bye! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” “Alice Wait!!” I heard the same voice calling me and turned around. “We made you a tshirt since you are a new member on the team” Lauren Said. ‘Really! Thank you guys so much!” “Well aren’t you going to put it on?” a voice said I put the baggy orange tyedie shirt on, the back said Alice in big purple letters “All of the track girls are going to wear their shirts tomorrow at school so don’t forget to wear yours” Lauren said. “Okay Well I really have to go now! Thank you!” I felt a pat on the back, I turned around and a girl named Ashley said “I’m so excited you are on the team” “Thanks! See you guys tomorrow!” They all watched me leave the locker room and starting giggling. “Ashley I can’t believe she didn’t feel you put that “Kick Me” sign on her back haha!” “I know! Lauren, I can’t believe your plan actually worked!”

Zachary Jaeger Untitled “All rowers at the ready!” yelled the ref from the floating dock. It was out in the middle of the lake with a chair and a desk. Next to it was a couple of launches (small boats with outboard motors) that follow the race in case anyone needs help. The instant he yelled this the whole boat lurched as all eight rowers leaned forward as far as possible, and stuck their oars in the water. “Attention!” yelled the ref again. This time all the rowers lowered their oars a couple of inches farther into the water so that the distinct yellow line was just under the water. Then they sat waiting for the command to start the race. When I looked around at the rest of the teams it looked as if the rowers had frozen in time. The waves where still lapping at the sides of the boats and I could see birds flying low over the water darting in and out of the boats. There was a soft gentle tailwind urging us on, and the sun was beating down on my back through a cloudless sky. But all the rowers where frozen as if the slightest movement would mean a lost race. When I focused my attention back on the stroke seat—the rower closest to the stern that sets the pace for everyone else—I saw an intensity in his eyes that I had never seen before. This was the final race of the season and we were in the finals. If we won the race then we got to take home the medal. Something that we had never done before, but desperately wanted to. Plus the coach had been pressuring the whole team to win for a long time. It was his second season with out a single race won. “Row!” “Three quarters, half, half, three quarters, full!” I yelled every stroke the instant I heard the ref yell row. I could see all the other boats in my peripheral vision doing something very similar to gain speed. Now I could hear the cheering of people on the shore yelling, and screaming. As soon as the first 5 strokes where done I immediately yelled, “high fifteen, one, two, three…” while I was counting off I looked around to see where the other boats were and noticed that we were second out of six. “…Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, three strokes to bring down the pace, one, two, three! Come on! We are bow to four in second place! Let’s go for a power ten, one, two…nine, ten! Five hundred meters to go let’s bring up the rate five strokes in two, one, two! Now I could hear the people on the shore chanting, Green Lake, Green Lake! Looking up the side of the boat I could see the flapping of our jerseys like a flag in the wind, as we flew threw the water. I could feel the back splash from stroke as it sprayed all over my face dousing me in icy water. The rest of the team was also doing perfect rollups and back splashes. This was by far the best we had ever rowed. “Great, now focus twenty to the two fifty on two, one, two, one, two, three…nineteen, twenty. Great we are bow to bow, tied for first. Two hundred and fifty meters to go! It’s time for the sprint bring up the rate! Two hundred meters to go! Full pressure, max rate! Let’s go! Do you want to win or not? The other team wants to win just as much as we do. We just have to row harder let’s go!” Both boats where bowtobow, when suddenly our stroke seat flies off his seat, as the wheels break apart. Stroke seat looks down at his seat and deciding that there is nothing he can do throws his seat in the water, takes off his oar and rolls into the water. Being trained with what to do in this situation, seven seat calmly takes over and continues as stroke. All of this happens in less than ten seconds. But bow seat taken aback by the sudden disappearance of stroke seat, left his oar in the water a fraction of a second to long, and because of the speed of the boat his oar slams him in the chest and he is ejected clear out of his seat into the water. Unfortunately being bow seat he came up too early and was smacked on the head by seven seats oar. Bow seats oar not having been taken out is now dragging in the water and it completely turns the boat so now we are headed across the lanes. “Starboards half pressure!” I yelled in an attempt to turn the boat back into our lane even though I already had the rudder turned as far as it would go. “If we row hard we can still make third place. Let’s go! Its almost over!” but even as I was saying this we passed into fourth place and were still two lanes over from our own. By the time we made it back to our lane we where in fifth place. “Let’s go! Finish it out! Five more strokes, four, three, two, one, wain off!” looking around I saw the first place boat already docking and second place just gliding in. Looking at the eight person boat now six people I said, “Well that was pretty good considering we lost stroke seat and bow seat got an ejector crab throwing the boat four lanes over.” “I knew our coach told us to jump out if our oar or seat broke but I didn’t think he was serious,” exclaimed seven seat when he caught his breath. “Neither did I,” I said. “Yea I hope bow is okay. My oar hit him pretty hard.” “Hey! In the morriardy, (our boat name) get a move on, the next race is about to start!” Yelled an official from the dock “Two seat back it up! Seven seat row!” I yelled. As soon as the boat was turned the proper way I said, “two seat could you grab bows oar and hold it out of the water. Three and four bring us on it.” after a couple seconds we had glided up to the dock. “Lean away and walk it in, one foot up, up and out!” as soon as we were out of the boat I saw our coach walking towards us and I felt a sinking feeling deep in my stomach. The one thing he had wanted us to do was win a race, and we had failed. “Oh my god that was amazing!” yelled our coach. We all looked at him puzzled, we had expected him to be so mad that he would have chopped off our heads and roasted them over a fire. He continued with, “If my novice boat did that on a race we would have given up right away, but instead you managed to finish still ahead of another boat!” “Your not mad?” someone said. “Mad? Why would I be mad? That was incredible! And what did bow seat think he was doing? You guys didn’t think I was serious about jumping out did you?” he looked around as most of the rowers where nodding their heads and he said, “o well, no harm done. Now get your boat out of the water and meet me by the office, so we can have a team chat.” He said, and then dismissed us.

Jade K. Untitled “As I was saying…” said my mom from the living room. “I’m not listening to you anymore!” I yelled. “Alyssa Marie, I don’t care what you say, I am your mother and you WILL listen to me!” “No.” I answered. “Why is that?” “If you were really my mother you wouldn’t steal my stuff from me.” “I’m not stealing anything away from you!” She shouted back. “It’s mine, I’m not giving it to you.” “Act your age, Alyssa! How old are you, again?!” She asked sarcastically. “You always said that age is just a number!” “Well in this case, its is…unless you act your shoe size!” “Oh good, because I’m almost 11 and my shoe size is 12. So thanks for the compliment.” I sneered. “Yes, you’re almost 11, you shouldn’t be carrying a blanket around!” “IT’S NOT A BLANKET! STOP CALLING IT THAT!” I yelled. “Go up to your room, get the ballet skirt, come back down and we’re going to have a talk.” By this time my mom made me so mad, my attitude was bigger than Texas. This fighting was getting old, it’s almost like, Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids. “Okay.” “A better chat than this one is all I’m asking.” “OKAY!” “Now go.” She said. I slowly walked up the stairs hoping my mom wouldn’t notice that I was stalling. I wonder how I thought of that? I had my ways, ways that could be pretty mean if pushed. “Alyssa come down.” “I’m not to my room yet! Almooost there!” “What are you doing?” I didn’t answer her. “Stop fooling around, go get it or I’ll get it for you.” I was going to make her wait for pigs to fly. I wanted to take my time. Yet, I didn’t want her to touch my tutu. “NOO!” “Well? Then go!” I rushed down the hallway to my room, grabbed the tutu off my dresser and darted back downstairs as fast as I could, holding it tight with the thought of my mom doing anything to it. “Thank you,” she said. “For what?” I asked. “For listening to me,” she answered. “Now..” “Can I go now?” “No! sit down.” We sat on the living room couch. I really didn’t want to be sitting on the couch listening to my Mom go on about how I’m too old to hold onto things like that. Well I didn’t think I was too odd at all. I had a million other things I could have been doing, like playing with my sister, then sitting here doing this! I think my Mom was talking to me but I spaced out and didn’t hear anything she said except “blah, blah, blah.” I looked up at her and as I did so, I felt angry. I don’t know why, but I did. I felt so mad, I was filled with heat. “IF YOU CAN’T TAKE THE HEAT, THEN STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN!” I yelled with my ears plugged. “TAKE YOUR FINGERS OUT OF YOUR EARS, WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?” she yelled. “STOP playing it off like you know nothing about it, I know what you’re trying to do! You’re so done!” I was furious. I took my fingers out of my ears and looked at her. She looked angry, not as angry as me…but still angry. Well good, I was glad that she was angry. She was yelling at me about stupid stuff and her point was going nowhere. She claims to be smarter than the rest of us. “What’s gotten into you?” I didn’t answer her. I wasn’t in the mood for talking. She still looked mad, her face was almost red like an apple. She looked like an angry apple… that wanted to stab me. “Hey!” My dad yelled from the door. After that blow out session, my dad was home from work and boy was I glad. I was done with all this. My mom must have eaten drama for breakfast, and I didn’t, so I can just thank her for another memory. I ran upstairs to my sisters room. She was sitting at her desk with a boutique beanie on. She didn’t have any hair because she had neuroblastoma, that’s a tumor with cancer, so she wore lots of hats and things. “Layla!” I said. “Yea, Aly?” she asked. “Whatcha doin’?” “Nothing much, just drawing.” She answered. “Whatcha drawin’?” “Nothing, why were you and mom yelling?” “She tried to take my tutu again.” "How come?" "She says that i'm too old." "How about we hide it then!" "Where?" "I know! I'll show you." She ran down stairs and I followed her. We went outside to the backyard and Layla was too fast I couldn't keep up. I saw her standing and talking to someone by the bushes but there wasn't anyone there so i knew she was just playing around. "Alyssa!" My dad yelled from the back door. Layla gasped and I turned around quick and face my dad. "What?" "What are you doing?" "Nothin', just playing with Layla." "Layla? Layla...who?" "Uh...my sister?" I confusedly answered. "Alyssa..." My dad sounded worried. I don't know what my dad was doing, talking to me like he didn't know who Layla was. I think he was going crazy. I turned back around quickly to face Layla, but she wasn't there. "Alyssa...come inside please." My dad said in a sad voice. "Why?" I asked. "Now, please." I started walking towards the door and everything came to me. I wasn't crazy, my dad wasn't crazy. Layla was already dead.

Steven King

Cold Silence

I woke up to the sound of my dad yelling at me, as usual. . . “Koji, get out of bed already! I'm not driving you to school again, if you miss the bus you're walking!” He yelled up the stairs in his gravelly voice. I endured this for another couple seconds before deciding he was serious. I proceeded to slide out of bed and grab a bowl of cereal downstairs. I didn't bother to try talking my dad, he never liked talking to me. He just sat there, every morning, sipping his coffee, reading his newspaper. Occasionally he'd give me a slight nod if I asked him a question, or a glare if the answer was a no. I ate my cereal fast, so as to avoid his burning eyes behind the newspaper. I grabbed a jacket, it was cold out this morning, and my backpack out in the front hall. I stepped into the brisk Autumn air, oh yes, it would be a cold day today. The sun was hidden behind a thick gray cloud, its former brightness covered it was now only a reminder of how warm the days had once been just a month ago. I found myself thinking of my dad as I walked to the bus stop, he had never liked me. So why had he adopted me? As far as I could remember, he had never shown any affection toward anyone before. It was almost as if he had wanted to adopt me to atone for his own icy harshness. As if adopting me and making my life miserable too would help at all. I saw the bus ahead and picked up the pace, just barely reaching it before the doors closed. Sliding into a seat by myself, I laid my head back to sleep, before being hit with a paper ball. I rounded on the assailant, a tall boy in the back of the bus. He sat there laughing with his friends, seeing my gaze he smirked at me. I felt a flare of anger towards him, why did they always have to pick on me?I did my best to stay out of fights, the last school I had been to I was kicked out of for breaking a kid's nose. In fact, if my dad hadn't settled the possible court case by paying for the child's doctor bills, I would have been removed from the entire district. But as such, I still tried to maintain my temper as best I could. But now, seeing him smirking at me, thinking himself better than me, I felt that old tug of anger in my chest. I looked him right in the face and muttered under my breath where he should stick the paper balls in his hand. “What did you just say to me punk?” He asked getting out of his seat. “You heard me, wanna make something of it?” I said cooly back to him, this was getting better and better. He shoved me off the bus once it stopped, and I whirled around with my fists up to face him. “You got a lot of nerve, punk!” he spat at me as he threw a lazy punch at my face. “Hah, are you gonna try? Or should I stand here and wait for your punches?” I asked him as I easily sidestepped his blow. I gave him a few quick jabs to the abdomen, and when he doubled over for breath I dealt him a quick chop to his back and neck. This effectively dropped him for the next couple minutes. As I walked away I saw my friend Tenshi approaching. “I see school's barely started and you're already getting in trouble Koji?” He asked with a jerk of his head towards the heap on the ground. “Hey! He asked for it, throwing paper balls at me, how else would I respond?” I said with a smirk. “Just try to keep your head down, we don't need a repeat of last year...” “Yeah, yeah, I'm just a little ticked at my dad” “What did he do this time? Another beating?” “No, nothing...that's just it. He acts like I don't even exist, I could be a wall for all he cares.” “Yeah well...” Tenshi said trailing of into silence. I looked over to him, and saw him looking up at the clouded sun as I had this morning. “Listen dude, I'm sorry.” I started, “I didn't mean t” “It's okay, come on...let's get to class.” He said, cutting me off. I had been so concerned about my own stepdad, that I had completely forgotten my best friend's own parental issues... Tenshi's parents had died when he was sixteen, a car crash. He had been at my house watching TV when the phone rang. My mom answered it and after a moment called Tenshi over to her. She had a tear in her eye as she listened to the phone before hanging up and telling him. “That was the hospital Tenshi, I'm afraid your parents...they've had an accident. Their car had a head on collision, they said the other driver was drunk. You're mom was killed on impact, and they thought your dad might survive. But, now they've found internal bleeding and lacerations where his ribs poked through his lung. They say he's not going to make it....I'm so sorry.” She finished holding onto his shoulder. In response to this, Tenshi merely picked up his backpack, zipper up his jacket...and walked out the door. No one saw him for a week. But when he returned, he stayed with his older sister, and acted as though nothing had changed. He never shed a tear and never spoke of the moment again until now. Only one kid had ever teased him in his life, a snobby rich kid from the beginning of the year had made jokes about Tenshi never having parents around. “I bet his mum ran off with some guy, left his kid alone with his sis. How sad guys!” The blonde had said, miming wiping away tears. Tenshi had turned around in his seat, gotten up, and without any change in emotion smashed the glass Sobe bottle he was holding across the kids face. The glass rained onto the floor, and the blonde gave a cry of pain before falling upon it. Tenshi merely gave him one last look before going back to eating his lunch. I had never seen him show emotion before, but the fact that he mentioned his parents now told me something was wrong. I followed him to class and tried to watch for any more signs. I felt like Tenshi was maybe hiding something from me, and I wanted to find out more. This day just got a lot more interesting...I just didn't know if it was for the better or the worse.

Crisleen Malabanan

Hello, Goodbye

Today was going to be a great day. My father Nolan Tater told me to pack my bags because we were moving to sunny Los Angles, California to pursue my love in music. I’d already recorded an album out in Dublin, but there was no one really biting for a new artist. So we took business into our own hands and found someone that was. Everything was planned out, a friend of my dad’s works with CSH Records. It was a newly launched record company that had been doing well for it’s first few years, so we decided to take the offer he gave us. Some of the songs that we had already recorded he wasn’t so fond of. During the process of elimination of what was good and what wasn’t he said “She’s 16 years old Nolan, no one wants to hear this kind of music now, it’s depressing. Sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, I’m trying to help you and your daughter out.” “Yeah. We just worked so hard on what we have now, you know? I want to make her dream come true and as her father I’ll do anything to make that happen.” “Don’t worry, I’m not just going to leave you out in the dark. For the next few weeks I’ll have writing sessions set up for people to work with Menchie.” Chris kept his word; the next day my dad’s phone was ringing every hour. It was all the writers setting dates for when they would work with me. Instead of the weeks Chris had promised, it turned into months. We threw out every song we’d made before we came to Los Angeles. It was a complete album flip. All the meetings were draining but I kept with it, because I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Before my mother and father got a divorce they decided to plan a party at our place. Before everyone had come, they sent my brother to send me to bed. Too bad that didn’t work, when I knew the party was finally on I ran downstairs. There were tons of adults all around the house. People in one room singing karaoke, in another room, drinking. It was an all out adult party. I can still hear my mother’s voice telling me about that night. “You climbed right up on one of the tables and started singing.” I didn’t doubt her when she said that. Now, a year had finally passed in the process of my music. I didn’t know how long it actually takes for artists to make an album, nevertheless I found out. Chris busy with his busy schedule finally had a chance to call us. He sent me to my very own personal voice coach. “Everyone in the industry has one, and it’s about time I found you one,” he said. The high notes came naturally for me, but they wanted to work on my pitch and voice control. After we accomplished that it was time to compose more of a low note for my voice. Then, Chris said it was finally time to hit the studio and start recording the beautiful songs that we’d created while I was working with so many wonderful people. I was in the studio day and night. Sometimes just coming in my pajamas because I was so tired. It was a fast process, but I was excited because six months strolled on and the record came out. I was 18 years old when the album launched. Friends and family were thrilled when they heard the news. Misunderstood, was the name of my album. September 1, 2001, I remember the exact date, twelve songs on the album. Of course the first day my album was released, my family was already there to buy it. Calls came pouring through the phone to tell me how it was; I was so pleased to hear all their compliments and praises of the album. Within the year I sold several thousands of copies and performed at ton of events. A year passed, I turned 19 years old, and the devastating news came crawling to get me. I received a call from Chris he had dreadful news. “Hey, Menchie. I couldn’t reach your dad, so I decided to tell you.” “Okay!” Thinking it was great news until he spoke once again. “I’m sorry to say, but I have to drop you from my record company.” I sat there in both silence and confusion for a while until he said something. “Hello? You still there Menchie?” I was disturbed by what he said. “I don’t understand. Why?” “I can’t afford to keep you on board, you’re not making as many sales as all the rest of the artist and I’m losing more and more money. I’m really sorry.” He said in a soft tone. He hung up the phone, I shut mine, threw it, and I busted in tears. All that hard work was put in and for what? I was at my ultimate high in life and it was shot down within short conversation. Now it’s time to give music a break and move on. Too bad I didn’t know how to do that.

James Mclean

Untitled

A section of wall was all that was left. Any second now it would be gone forever. My only goal was to remember what that stained glass in the middle of the wall meant. I didn’t know what the glistening object was from or why he would remember it but it stuck in my memory right from the jagged end to the curved smoothed end that had not yet been touched. If the wall fell the glass would surely be crushed forever and I would never find out what it was and why I remembered it. It became a battle against time or rather the bulldozer and finding out what that memory was. I thought back to the time he was a child and tried to think of the possibilities. First I though of the first Christmas he ever remembered the dazzling lights the colorful presents and most of all, the magnificent tree. I remembered he got a truck that I played with fondly then and still look at it with the same fondness that he had back then; I remembered the sketch book that to this day I still uses it for my art class and the baseball glove the scent of it was still with me as if he had just held it the other day. The lights on the Christmas tree were as bright in my memory as the day I saw them colors from blue to green to red the were all there. The clearest thing in my memory was the tree. It was just about the biggest thing that had ever come to our house and by far the most magnificent. Could not fathom how something so big could fit in this small house, but no matter how far I reach back in my memory I could not find the stained glass that I was looking for. I was tugged out if that memory by the tugging of my little brother and sister. I could see in their eyes that they were dying to go home; that they could not stand the boredom anymore. I could see why they wouldn’t share the urgency that I was holding, because they didn’t live in this house they probably didn’t know that we used to live in this house, that I had so many memories in this house that my brain couldn’t hold all of them. So I stare at the house the wall is inches away from crumbling down and taking my precious memories. The bricks slowly crunching and grinding together as if they were holding on for dear life, but eventually every thing has to come to an end. The bulldozer makes a final push and the wall finally comes away bringing down with it the stained glass. The glass fell as if in slow motion so slow it was as if you could feel the crack in the glass happen, the crack in my memory happen. I stayed there thinking of things I could’ve done to prevent it. Maybe I should have stopped the dozer from destroying the wall just long enough so it could retrieve. Come to think of it I do not have anything from my old home besides clothes and a dictionary, none of which have any memories that are worth thinking about. I hardly realize it when we get home it feels like its been hours. Up until then I didn’t realize that so many thing were in that house and I didn’t take any of my old possessions. I wish that I could go back and take all those valuables, take back all those memories and forgotten thoughts. I start to wonder what happened to all my toys, books, and accessories? Maybe they were donated to a charity, brought down to the dump, or maybe even they are still in the house that we just saw get torn to pieces. Buried deep under the rubble and debris. Soon a garbage truck will come and haul all the broken and shattered, bits and pieces of my precious memories down to the dumped in a furnace and my memories will be gone forever, never to me reviewed over again. I finally gave up trying to remember what that piece of glass meant. I started wondering what was for dinner as I walked up my front steps. I finally became aware of the wails of my siblings and quickly hushed them, but instead of stopping they started laughing. I felt my muscles tense, my face redden; but I halted feeling strange then I remembered where that stained glass came from. It was so clear now as if I had known it the whole time. I went back into that one memory that I had been searching for. My older brothers were laughing just like my siblings were laughing now. It was my birthday the cake was set, the candles burning with nine hearts; they would so be push away though as I took an intake of air, the air that we breath and is so precious to us. I held the air in as long as I could and with one push all of the space that fill my lungs was gone and in result the candle that once burn were as cool as the surface that held them steady. It was present time the first present was a truck I immediately started to play with it but Mom told me that there was a special present from my brothers, I whipped around to face them they appeared so happy with there work that they now held in there hands, a stained glass vase.

Chelsey Morgan

Untitled Nikki glanced down at her feet. The swing she’s placed upon just high enough to keep her feet from grazing across the crystal puddle below. As she gazes into the water a reflection of herself sits there glaring back. Raindrops continually plop down into her looking glass; ringlet after ringlet distorts her pale boney face. Swings are creaking; wind is sweeping through the rustling trees. She looks around the dark, empty park, loneliness rushes through her veins. The aroma of wet grass and tanbark flows into her flaring nostrils. Nicole gets off her Swing thrown to lie on the cold, damp ground. Raindrops fall down onto her cold skin one after another; as she slowly drifts into a light sleep. The wind is starting to pick up pace each second that Nicole just lies there aimlessly. A branch from a tree above swoops down to land perfectly onto her chest. Her eyes burst open to a sight of an empty playground. Stumbling to her feet she checks her phone. 16 missed calls and 5 minutes till’ 1:00 Am. My parents are going to kill me,” she thinks to her self. Nicole puts her phone back in her pocket and races home as fast as her short little legs could carry her. When she gets home, all lights are on as she explodes through the wooden door, practically taking it off the hinges. There stand her mother and her father, “where have you been?” they shouted at her. Pretending to not be phased by their loud and aggravated voices Nikki is able to mummer “I fell asleep at the park, I’m very tired, I am okay and I am going to bed. Good night I love you both.” Without even giving them time to think Nicole was gone and tucked into her own bed. “Beep Beep Beep” the alarm clock screeched, exactly 7 O’ clock the alarm sang and Nicole sprung out of bed. After taking 35 minutes to find the perfect out fit, she throws it on to run out the door with no time to spare. Washington schools are nothing like the schools in Florida; where she comes from. To be more exact Washington and Florida in general are absolutely nothing alike. Nicole has only been at Horner for about 3 months now; and already dreading every next minute of it. The only time she enjoys of school here is lunch, Nicole was one of the lucky new people who found a group she fits in perfectly with within a week with. Some weren’t the best, but the other made up for it all. They were a group of about 7 girls and the guys always rotated in and out. “NICOLE!” Someone shrieks from behind her. Startled she looks over her shoulder to see who was calling her. It was Anna, “great” she thinks to her self. Anna is probably the biggest fabricator known to mankind. She’s one of those girls who peoples only like cause she deceived them to do so. Anyone who really gets to know her for a week can tell you that. People have been noticing her problem since 2 nd grade but no one wants to confront her. Anna is about the size of a toothpick and looks so innocent. If anyone was to start anything with her she’ll be able to lie and turn the whole school against you. So the mob just waits till they get enough people to take down their kill. Nikki keeps walking trying to ignore Pinocchio. Yet, her attempt was a fail as another squeal was sent her way. “Great” she hisses. “How are you today” Anna asks “I’m doing just fine” she responds “Guess what!” “What?” “I have like 10 guys chasing me, and like 4 of them are from the soccer team,” Anna claimed. “If she thinks I believe this, she’s deranged.” Nikki thinks to her self “Well I have to go, I’m supposed to be meeting someone soon.” Nicole exclaims. Then before she even had to time to utter something I had already dashed out of sight. Nicole made her way through the pushing crowds; until she finally reached the Railroad”. The railroad was just a fancy name for the little room that connected all “The halls. It was also the place Nicole and her group meet up for lunch and other breaks. Nicole looks over her shoulder to see Bridget on the verge of tears. again; she’s been like this for about the past 3 days. Bridget and Christian had been going out for the past 3 months; no one really knows how they managed to last that long, cause Christian is one of the biggest jerks at Horner. Even with that being known Bridget fell for him pretty hard and he dumped her about 3 days ago, and she’s been a wreck every since. By the looks of it, Nicole is going to be spending another lunch in the bathroom with Bridget. Finally it was 2:30 and time to go home. Nicole loved this part of the day. In every aspect school was her form of jail. Though, it’s not very often Nikki actually goes straight home at this time. Normally it’s to a friend’s house, or to the gym. Yet, today was her day to stay after school to do a project for history with a partner. Nicole walked slowly to room B9, where she was to find out who her partner was and they were to kick off on their task. She wandered her way past B1, B2, until she stumbled upon B9. Nicole seized the handle and gyrated it to the right until the door clicked open. The room was a ghost town, bare desk after bare desk. Behind her the door swung open nearly striking her in the back. Nicole whipped around to have a dude towering over her. She glimpsed up to survey her new partner. Though, he wasn’t new to her at all. Nicole’s associate was Jake. It’s not that she didn’t like Jake, it’s more they have a compelling past, and with secrets Nikki has yet to tell Jake. It all started about 3 months ago, about 2 weeks after Nicole had moved to Washington. Everything happened so fast it was to a point where she couldn’t quite keep up on what was going on. Four weeks was all that it took. On the third week, she thought it’d be the last, or at least hoped so. Though, deep down she knew it couldn’t just stop there. The fourth time had surely come on a Saturday night. It started from the 2 pairs of lips gently grazing, and ended with a period free month. The chances of being pregnant increased with each week that elapsed by. Not that she didn’t want to tell Jake; she doesn’t know how. Not to mention nothings for sure yet, it’s only been 2 months. Though, working with him for 2 weeks and keeping her mouth shut will be a challenge. Normally, Nicole doesn’t exactly have the smallest mouth when it comes to her own secrets. She rapidly gains trust in people and tells her closest friends everything. Yet, this was different she hasn’t told a single person. Getting pregnant by a guy she hadn’t know for even 2 weeks, couldn’t look good. Nicole watched the clock carefully, making sure she didn’t spend a single minute extra minute in there. The minute the clock stoked 3:45 she scampered out of that classroom and dashed home. It was almost 4:30 by the time she reached her destination. Just in time to grab the phone and call Kim. Kimberly Elizabeth Frock has been Nikki’s best friend since birth. Their parents grew up together and up both had a kid within 3 months apart. Though, Kim still lived in Florida; the two girls talk every day. “You know, cookie dough is the ultimate best part of cookies” Kim exclaimed “ Yeah, a huh” Nikki mumbled It didn’t take much more of a conversation for Kim to noticed something was on Nicole’s mind. “What’s wrong?” Kim asks her. Nicole then finally told someone the situationtaking place in her life. “Your not thinking of keeping it is you?” Kim howled “Well don’t you think it’s a little early to think about that?” Nicole uttered “No it’s not! You need to decide and have a plan, and a back up plan” “I don’t even know if I’m pregnant” “And if you were, would you keep it?” “Yes, yes I would” “No, no you shouldn’t” “Why would you say that?” “Let’s see, your 15 and don’t have a job it’s common sense” “Yet, I can get a job and I’ll be just fine” “No, it’s not that simple. If you’re pregnant you’re not keeping it” “Too bad it’s not your decision” Nicole roared as she hung up the phone. Nicole looks up to the ceiling as tears begin to flow down her face. Nothing is actually for sure yet and this is already causing squabbles. She flings her back up against the wall, and slithers down until she’s comfortably safe in her bed.

Eric Mulhern

A Scene in Moe’s Life As Moe sat in his room, he reflected on his day. It had been long, and he still had a lot of homework due the next day. He would have done his two big English assignments earlier, but he was too busy with his science assignment that was due one day before the English assignments. These assignments had been assigned only three days ago, with complete disregard for the students, or what other work or social life that they might have. Now, they weighed him down, discouraging his very creativity, as he should be practicing for his upcoming state musical competition. But instead, he sat on his bed, mentally trying to push himself to write more. Moe was rapidly losing any respect that he may have accumulated for his teacher over the course of the year. At about that time, Moe’s younger brother, Joe, came bouncing into the room. He was young, and unstifled with the great amount of homework that some high school teachers flung at their students. Joe seemed to be in a good mood, but you could never tell. He was a cunning little boy, and though at times he could be rather annoying, he was often fun to have around. He enjoyed pulling pranks, but could also see a surprisingly mature side of things. He may not know much yet, but Moe could tell that he was smart for his age. “What are you doing?” asked Joe. “Homework,” replied Moe. “But you were doing that an hour ago, how could you still be doing it?” “Well, some teachers decide to assign a painfully large amount of homework. Today, I have two big assignments in the same class.” “How could they do that to you?” said Joe, his voice harsh and surprised. “That’s just cruel!” “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll probably be up until two doing this,” Moe said. “Does this mean that you can’t play a game with me?” Joe asked sadly. “I’m afraid I can’t even finish all the things I need to do.

Joe left the room, and Moe tried to go back to reading, writing, and filling out endless questions about some book that really wasn’t as good as it was made out to be. But he found that he couldn’t concentrate. He found himself looking around his room. His guitar stood on a stand across the room, silently waiting for someone to pluck its taught strings; to dance their fingers up its neck. He remembered when he had bought this particular instrument. It was rather lucky, really, since it was a very old guitar, which had sat in an empty attic for over thirty years. It had been refurbished and sent to a store to sell it. It just so happened that Moe had been taking lessons in this very same building. His guitar teacher had recommended that he try it out, and he had done so. He remembered being amazed at how full the sound was; how much it resonated. According to the salesman, it had been sitting in an attic for over 30 years, and had only just been recovered. He had bought it straight away, for a bargain of $650. Now, however, it stood on its stand, in a corner, unplayed, and untouched. He knew that he should be playing it, just as much as he was doing homework, but he had so much homework that he had no time for the guitar whatsoever. Moe heard the wind rushing outside the house. The arm of a tall evergreen tree brushed against the wall outside his room. It scraped along the long ridges of the house, making a harsh, yet somehow soft sound. He remembered that when he was younger, he had thought these sounds to be scary, imagining some creature climbing the wall, waiting. But now, he found them mildly comforting. About a minute later, Joe ran energetically into the room. “Mom says dinner’s ready!” he yelled. Sometimes he could be too loud, having a rather obtrusive manner. “Moooe!” “Okay, I’m coming,” said Moe, annoyed. He waited for Joe to leave the room, then slowly moved to push aside the vast fields of papers, books, and pencils. He forced his tired muscles to move; pushing himself off his bed. He stretched, reaching up towards the dull white ceiling, then out towards the distant walls, covered with pictures, posters, and other random things accumulated over the years. As he reached for the doorknob, a thought struck him. It may not have been the most lucid, most correct thought, but it was strong, powered by his strong, negative emotions. He picked up his guitar, which was sitting beside him. He reached down and snagged up a cord, which was lying in disarray all around his chair. He plugged it into his amp that lay awkwardly in a corner, sitting at a slight angle to the wall. He then plugged the other end to the body of his guitar. It made a slight artificial crackle as he pushed it in. He plucked the strings, turning the knobs as he did so. The guitar slowly came into tune, the quiet discord slowly becoming more pleasant to the ear. When all the strings became in tune, he stopped the sound, placing his hand flat upon the neck. He reached down and lifted the amp with one hand, and moved it away from him, towards his door. He let the weight of it overpower his arm, and set it on the ground. As he let go, his arm drifted up, and he pushed the lock on his door. Then, he turned on his amp, and twisted the volume knob to 10. He began to play, the sound resonating through the whole house. His homework could wait. It didn’t even need to be done, for all he cared. All he wanted to do was just play.

Nhi Nguyen Surprises “Keep your eyes closed!” My girlfriend, Natalie, giggled and wrapped her small, soft hands over my eyes, leading me to a place I was unfamiliar of. Taking small baby steps, with her hand entwined with mine, we walked along the beach. I attempted to lift the tight bandana off a little bit, and Natalie laughed and smacked my hand off. “We’re almost there!” Natalie exclaimed, pulling me along further. “How much longer? I can’t see anything!” I groaned. Coming to a stop, Natalie let go of my hand and took off my bandana. I opened my eyes slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the bright summer sunlight. Looking up straight ahead of me was a humongous banner with balloons all over, flapping in the wind tied down with a string attached and rocks at the end, spelling out, Happy 18 th Birthday, David! “Surprise, babe!” Natalie squealed, jumping up to hug me, placing her soft lips on mine. I grinned, taking notice of the blanket spread out on the sand and picnic baskets sitting on top. I have the most amazing girlfriend in the world, I thought. It was unusually vacant for a summer day on Venice Beach, but that didn’t bother me. The slight breeze was cool and brushed my long hair out of my eyes, as we sat down. We sat there in complete and relaxing silence, we could sit here and not talk for hours, but still enjoying each other’s company. I looked up and saw that Natalie was staring at me with her warm chocolate eyes, meeting my bright blue ones, and lingering for a second before glancing down once more. It wasn’t much for my 18 th birthday, but it was a special one; any birthday spent with my girlfriend was a good one. I couldn’t possibly be happier. I tried to hold onto that dream for as long as I could, but my alarm clock had other plans. I woke up groggily, half opening my eyes to look at the time. I groaned when I saw it was 7 o’clock in the morning. Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair, the dream of Natalie and I on my birthday still lingering in my mind, as I closed my eyes and yawned, massaging my temples. I couldn’t remember much of last night, besides getting too wasted. My head was throbbing and I felt sick to my stomach, not helping my nostalgia. More recently, I’ve been having the same dream over and over again. The dream was two days before Natalie left for a yearlong trip, as a foreign exchange student in France. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t suppress the thought of her. It was hard to believe it’s only been two months since she has left for France. Struggling to get out of bed, I stretched my long arms and yawned again. Not bothering to do anything on the last week before school started, I lazily put on a pair of board shorts and walked out of the house. My head was pounding, and feeling lightheaded, I shuffled my way down a few hundred feet to the beautiful Venice beach I grew up with, smelling the cool, crisp breeze of saltwater, and the sound of gentle waves crashing at shore along my rugged feet. I’ve never really been the party guy type, but it would be considered social suicide if I didn’t fit in with the norm. Especially since Natalie left, I’ve been going to parties more frequent, only to drown myself in alcohol and having the same old hammering hangover the next morning. I can’t particularly say I enjoyed it, but it was something fun to do with friends. Old habits die hard, right? In deep thought, I stuck my hands in my pockets and stood still, occasionally moving my head to scan the beach. It was far too early in the morning; no one else was there but myself. The beach seemed lifeless and cold, with the occasional seagull flying by and the sound of the swing set swinging slightly due to the wind; yet it was peaceful and empty. The waves crashing at my feet were steady and rhythmic, not getting any bigger or smaller. I felt blank; everything seemed to be moving around me at a speed faster than I can comprehend. Looking straight ahead, was a place I got to know very well over the past two years. Walking towards the everfamiliar swing set, I sat down on the cold rusty red seat, and dug my toes in the soft grainy sand, memories of Natalie and I spending the summer here everyday in the same exact spot, until the sun dipped into the mountains and water, turning a deep red orange color, all flowing back to me. It was a weird feeling not seeing her everyday, but I could almost smell Natalie in the red swing next to mine, the smell of vanilla and lavender creeping up my nose, but also the same familiar smell of the salty ocean, and leftover stale margaritas on my tongue. “Hey kiddo, what are you doing here?” My 20yearold sister Emma spoke softly, standing a good ten feet behind me, in her white summer dress with her blonde hair braided to the side. “Just thinking, that’s all,” I said quietly, motioning for Emma to come sit in the swing seat next to me. Already knowing there was more behind my answer, she smiled warmly at me, rubbing my back as a gesture saying, it’ll be alright. I have my fair share of friends, I was well known in school, but none of them could compare to my sister, Emma, who was like my second best friend. “Miss her, huh?” “Yeah. I do.” “Excited to start senior year?” Emma changed the topic, not knowing what to say. “I guess so, I just want to be done with high school already. It’ll be weird not having Natalie by my side to suffer through it all,” I joked. “Oh… high school. I remember my senior year. Don’t party too much, alright?” Natalie joked back with a grin, punching my shoulder very slightly. Little did she know, I thought. I smiled and told her not to worry. After some small talk with Emma about college life, I decided to start walking back home; I was getting hungry; drinking on an empty stomach isn’t always the best choice. “Oh! There’s a surprise for you back at the house,” Emma exclaimed, with an amused look on her face. “Oh really?” I asked rhetorically, thinking it was probably food or something. I walked back to my house a little bit quicker this time, only to see the only other girl in my life that mattered besides Emma, in a beautiful yellow flowery skirt with her vneck tucked in and hair pined up, looking right at me with a smile on her face. “Surprised to see me?” Natalie said with a smirk.

Jason Resha

Untitled The early morning dew hung lightly along the green grass, refracting the light of in every direction. The plains west of the town were rich in game this time of day many deer roamed the field licking up the morning dew and eating their fill of plains grass, and knowing this Kyle set off on a jog from his families small whitewashed farm house just outside of the small village Erium. Having woken up before the early sunrise that day to prepare Kyle was absolutely bursting with energy. Once out of sight of the farmhouse, he took off into a full blown sprint. The landscape rushed by colors running into each other and soaring by the path barely in focus, the unstrung bow and quiver of arrows bouncing hard against his back, he continued to run he was absolutely free. He ran until he was short of breath, as he slowed to a slow canter, he bent over forwards and rolled onto his back amongst the grass with a deep sigh. As he lay there Kyle began the tedious process of restringing his bow as he caught his breath. He reached into his small leather knapsack that always sat along his belt, for the familiar bowstring to attach to his bow. “AHA! Here it is.” He cried, as he pulled out the old bowstring from his knapsack. Hethen proceeded to attach it to one end of the ancient yew longbow and then stretched and pulled the string and bow so the string would fall into place on the opposite end. As he tested the tension of the bow sting, he looked the great longbow over. Its great arch almost matching his height and the handle and arrow notch lay midway down the great bow. Kyle had owned this bow all his life. His grandfather had given it to him as a present when he was very young. When his grandfather held the great yew long bow before him it stood a full 3 feet taller than him, back then he had been close to 3 feet tall as well. The first time he had fired the bow when he was fifteen, his shot had been clumsy and fallen far short of its target, but he had drawn the string. From that day on he had shot arrow after arrow everyday for two years accuracy, power and speed increasing almost exponentially. Although he didn’t know it he was one of the best archers in the kingdom of Arcadia the nation he lived within famous for its archers, but he never knew that he was near best, he never looked for praise or attention from townsfolk and travelers only for a greater skill with the bow each time a traveler would enter town Kyle would talk to him or her about the latest battles out in the Ais Marble Plains. Within time he had begun to hammer seven to ten shots into the inner most ring of the target and would then proceed to fill every ring around that until his stock of arrows lay empty then he would retrieve them and fire again repeating the process until he could fire upon multiple targets in rapid succession and changing order. His training became the essence of his day to day life; he would stop for sleep, food and chores, sometimes shooting to fire light at night his accuracy never even faltering in the flitting darkness. His life was archery, and he was one of the greatest. All of his practice began to pay off as he started going on more frequent hunting trips each time bringing home much venison. Every single one of the hunting trips Kyle would stop to learn more about the forest and its creatures. Though while hunting he picked up a new skill, the ability to conceal himself and the art of stealth each time stalking his target kill until he was within easy shooting range. Soon Kyle became a very skilled ranger of the forests and his family prospered greatly from this. Kyle opened his eyes; he had been remembering the strenuous training he had subjected himself to and the fruits of his labor, his many successful hunts. He opened his quiver and drew an arrow, knocked it and drew the string back. His target was a small sapling about 450 meter it was a gambling mans shot but it was a test for himself. He set his angle and drew further, the tension of the bow was immense the draw weight near maxing itself out. Whether the bow began to tremble or he did, Kyle loosed the arrow. He watched the arrow leave the yew bow behind in slow motion every movement of the fletching as it waved back and forth with the newly found freedom and sudden rush of air. The arrow shot away from sight, it traveled with ferocious speed, spinning at a great speed, and deadly precision. The moment the arrow flew off the bow it was lost from view, within second s the sapling gave a violent shudder and stood still. At the sight of the Kyle took off at a run to find out if he had hit his mark. Kyle ran all the way to the sapling but the arrow was not on or near the sapling, there was a gaping hole in the dead center of the small tree, straight through it. Kyle circled the small tree but could not find his arrow. “No it couldn’t be….” He muttered to himself perplexed, he followed a straight path from the sapling for 50 meters more in total confusion searching for the arrow; there almost fully buried into the ground, only the fletching showing, laid the arrow tip down. Kyle was completely awestruck; he had never seen this happen before, he had never even heard of this happening before. Shooting a full 500 meters after going through a tree, this had never happened before and Kyle was the first to achieve this feat in the entire continent of Ebilon.

Colin Rudnick

Untitled

John was pissed. Once again his attempt at running had failed. He was now sitting in his room pouting at himself. His sister knocked on his door. “Can I come in?” she asked. “No, not now I need time to relax. Later after I’ve had time to calm down.” “Ok.” John returned to staring at the floor and thinking about that days work. His room was dark and cool. Perfect for cooling off, both from running and anger. “Knock, Knock, are you alright John?” his grandpa interrupted his thoughts. “Yes,” John replied. “Do you want to talk?” “Not now,” John said flatly. After his grandpa left, John rolled over on his bed and stared at the poster of Chelsea’s Didier Drogba. John wished he could run like a pro. Then things would be different and he wouldn’t have to be a loner. Crash! His family burst John’s door open. “Surprise!” they all yelled. “OUT NOW!” he yelled back. “Too late,” his sister called. “Shut up!” he called back. “Guess what?” his dad called. “No!” he replied. “We set you up with something that’s going to help,” said his mom. “Please not another exercise machine. Those things are starting to really tick me off. I don’t even use them anyway, so why do you waste your money on them?” For as long as he could remember his parents had been trying to buy him the right exercise machine to keep him in shape so he wouldn’t get made fun of at school. And as long as he had remembered, every time they got him one he would go up to the track and get his exercise in there, where he was free to do what he wanted, to smell the outdoors. He had gotten used to the red rubber with white lines on it, a little to close to it at times. Every time he had tried he had fallen hard at least once. He couldn’t understand why his knees just didn’t want to cooperate and move like he wanted. Everything else could. “No, stupid,” his sister said. “Then what?” “We found a place in down town that is willing to give you a checkup and possibly surgery if they can find out what is bothering you,” his dad said. “Once again, you are going to spend the family’s fortune just to make me happy. Thanks guys, I really wanted to go to college,” John replied sarcastically. This wasn’t the first time that his dad had gotten the brilliant idea to try to spend thousands on his legs. His family was always trying to keep him happy but he knew that the family was not the richest family in the area. Whenever this happened he got angry with them because his real dream was to be able to go to college. Every time though the people could never find out what was wrong. That only wasted half the fortune. If their had been surgery it would have wasted all of it. “This time the people said that you could do it for free,” his mom called joyfully. “If the problem is what they think it is, you will be a test for a new type of surgery. This whole plan is paid for us by the United States government because its for research and development. Isn’t that nice?” John’s grandpa said. “If the US is paying for it then it won’t be free. The money that they’re using will be my taxes when I’m older,” John retorted All he could think about was the pure white walls and floors of the hospital. The smell of antibacterial cleaners, the sound of beeping heart monitors, the rush of doctors and nurses, the sound of the receptionists phones ringing, the low murmur of loved ones comforting the sick and injured family members. He hated it all. He, John Robert, would never let his parents make him stay in there over night. “No!” was all he could say.

Luke Stevens

Duty The dim light of a hanging lamp cast a flickering shadow across the cold concrete floor. That shadow belonged to Logan, leader of GAIA. He merely was sitting on a kneehigh crate, polishing a tiny goldcolored locket. Inside was a miniature photo of a man with shoulder length blue hair standing next to a girl a head shorter than him with pink hair. The only audible sound was the ticking of an old clock on the stony wall. The tick-tock sound almost seemed to echo in the empty room. We were a band of renegades called GAIA. We were five, young souls with one goal in mind: Destroying ECOP, a tyrannical order that claimed to “protect the peace,” but that was a big load of crap. All of the higherups were obsessed with money and power, and it was our mission to end their reign of terror, slowly, but steadily. We’ve sworn our lives to ending them, and we would never give up, ever. The silence was shattered by the sound of the steel door opening behind him, causing him to jump a little. He looked towards the door, to see his ally, Irene, walk inside and sit down behind him. “‘Sup, Logan.” She said emotionlessly. “Mmm. Not much.” He replied. A short silence passed, and Irene asked, “You really miss her, don’t you?” The man gave a slight nod. “Yeah… it’s been three years, and I still miss her. Strange, huh?” He chuckled grimly. “No, not really,” she said without making eye contact, fiddling instead with the zipper to her jacket. “When my boyfriend broke up with me, I never got over it for 5 years.” Another silence, broken this time by Logan. “I’m going to avenge her. Even if it takes me a thousand years, I’ll avenge her.” Irene gave him a tap with her hammer on the head. “Dummy. You won’t live that long.” She looked away. “‘Sides, we still have all of our lives to take ECOP out for good.” Logan stared at her. “All our lives, eh? Well, who’s to say our lives end on this mission?” This time, it was a deliberate smack to the noggin with the small mallet. “Idiot. That’s not your line. Instead, you should say, ‘we’re gonna kick their asses back to where they came from!’ Sounds more like a leader. Sounds more like you .” Logan caressed the new bump on his scalp. “Yeah, you’re right, Irene. Sorry.” “Say, Logan… what’re you gonna do when this is all over?” Irene asked in a different voice. He scratched his head. “Huh… never thought ‘bout that…” He answered softly. “Dunno, guess I’ll try to rebuild this broken world. Try to fix what they ruined.” Irene chuckled. “Heh, damn right.” She suddenly grew quiet. “Hey… do you ever think about the afterlife?” “Huh? What brings that up?” She gave a grim laugh. “Well… have you ever thought that what we’ve been doing is… wrong?” Logan’s face blanched, then lit up with laughter. “What’s so funny?!” Irene said angrily. “Hah… sorry, Irene, that line just… doesn’t suit you.” She smirked. “Oh? Then, what SHOULD I say, genius?” “Oh, something along the lines of, ‘we’re not gonna ever give up, even if we die!’” Now, Irene laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Logan’s happy expression suddenly died. “If what we are doing is wrong… then I’d rather not be right. I’d rather spend an eternity in hell than die not saving this world, and going to heaven.” Irene looked shocked. “Really? What makes you say that?” Logan grinned at her. “Well, first, it’s more heroic to say something like that.” Irene burst out with laughter. “I had a feeling you’d say that!” “Second…” He continued. “I love this world more than my own life.” He then looked away. “And lastly… I wouldn’t have avenged her.” The laughter perished. “So, you really mean that?” Slowly, Logan nodded. “Of course.” Irene stood up, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Then I’m with you.” Logan smiled. “Thanks, Irene.” Another quick silence, and Irene spoke up. “It’s about time we left. Want me to go get the others?” “Yeah…” Logan replied, and seconds later, he heard a door slam shut. Then, he noticed something odd. His cheek was slightly damp. Wow… He thought. How un-heroic. After a minute, the other members of GAIA entered the small room. “Alright, guys. Let’s go do this thing.” The 5 members of the group mounted onto their large DELTA028, Yajj making a few lastminute checkups on the vehicle. Haden was polishing his large shotgun, and Klace was tying a complex knot with his battered rope. Logan flipped a switch, which activated the gate switch of the concrete garage. The engines coughed and roared to life. Yajj scrambled into the growling vehicle, and they dashed out, into the ruinous plains of scrap metal and junk. Switching onto a large sewage pipe that extended from the hills of metal, they rode up on it, and then, after breaching the level surface, drove the bulky vehicle off, and onto a suspended bridge with a loud thunk . Waves of light smothered them, causing Logan to blink excessively to regain his senses. This environment was very different from the Aesler Underground levels. Speeding through the lanes, the renegade group was soon approached from behind by a huge ECOP vehicle, the men inside pulling out guns, and began to open fire. Their outfits were dark blue, and they wore sinister biohelmets, with their transparent eyeholes, and their six breathing holes located around the mouth. GAIA retaliated with their own waves of bullets, and “Well, that wasn’t too hard,” Haden spoke up with a chuckle. “Yeah, well it’s gonna get a lot harder…” Irene said. Logan clutched his locket. Just wait, Aina. Someday, I will end all of this.

Elissa Sutlief PopQuiz I knew I might be late, but I was still rushing to my locker to relieve myself of the new, leadlike textbook sitting my backpack, slowly planning its scheme to destroy my posture. I probably had about two minutes before the bell would announce my tardiness. Thinking about the teacher I would be tardy for made me pick up my pace. As I reached my locker I fumbled with the metal lock, my fingers quickly recalling the numbers. Twisting one way, then the other, I listened to Tanya passionately criticizing everything my next teacher, Ms. Torres, did. I’m pretty sure Tanya had seen me in the hall and caught up with me, but from my perspective it was like she appeared out of nowhere. Before my brain even fully registered her presence, she had started blabbering about how stupid it was to learn about all the little details of the Aztec civilization, when no one was going to remember them. Surprisingly she was able to recall them all and was intent on reciting them to me, multiple times. Around me the hallway cleared as most students made it to their classrooms. Tanya, whose next class was with her halfblind photography teacher, didn’t feel it necessary to get to class on time. After what felt like minutes of listening to extensive explanations of the canal networks use by Aztec farmers to water their crops, my locker door swung open to reveal a bunch of cluttered junk resting at the bottom with my lunch and sweater. Rushing, I stuffed my new textbook in, swung the locker shut, and started down the nearly empty hallways, Tanya keeping up easily. “And what is the point of learning about chinampas,” Tanya complained, “I mean, who could even remember that word?” “You apparently,” I pointed out, “and what the heck are chinampas?” As Tanya explained it to me, the bare walls started to make me feel claustrophobic. I desperately willed the clock not to change. The frustration I felt toward my firstperiod teacher for deciding to make us carry around textbooks was not lessened by her making us stay after class because she didn’t manage her time well. If not for her and her scatterbrained teaching style I wouldn’t even be in this situation. As my classroom door came in sight, I bid Tanya goodbye. I opened the door and rush inside. Silence, then the bell rung. I could see the eyes of all the other students watching my flushed face return to its normal color. “Take your seat Azurite,” a pompous voice said sternly. Worst. Teacher. Ever. It was like she just couldn’t help prancing around the classroom flaunting her superiority. With her, everything was an order. She always chopped off the “Could you please…” from the beginning of her orders. Control freak. Every student was turned to face me. You would think my walking in late was the most interesting thing they had seen all day. Maybe it was, considering this boring school. As I reached my desk I noticed an upside down sheet of paper laying ominously on the smooth surface. Every other desk in the room was an identical sight. I looked up in horror to see the words “POPQUIZ!!!” written on the white board. “Today we are having a popquiz,” explained the teacher, smiling as if she enjoyed stating the obvious just to torture us. I was freaking out in my seat. I had forgotten it was Thursday. Every Thursday we had a very anticipated and studied for popquiz on every little detail of one of the subjects she had taught us about that week. My friend Kyra came over to my house every Wednesday after school to study with me. Unfortunately for me, she and her dad were taking off the entire week to go backpacking on Mt. Rainier. Without her there, I had completely forgotten to study. In addition to that, my other friend Tanya had just got a cell phone and was texting me so much during class, eventually I just had to turn off my phone. Overall, this was not a good week to have a popquiz. “You study?” the girl behind me whispered to her neighbor. “Of course,” her friend replied, “popquizzes are worth too much of my grade for me to get a bad score.” “Aren’t they like 15% of the overall grade?” the first girl asked. To this her friend nodded, realizing the teacher was looking at them. Their conversation grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard. How could I be stupid enough to forget about this? “If the girls in the back are done with their conversation,” Ms. Torres said menacingly, “I would like to remind you to be quiet after you finish your test so the people who are having a harder time recalling what they didn’t pay attention to, can think. You may start the test.” I dreaded this moment when my straight A report card would be destroyed by a single B. The teacher trying to make us feel bad wasn’t helping either. Everybody had already flipped their papers, so I decided to face the moment with courage. I picked up my paper and flipped it over. As I gazed at the blank lines that were probably not going to contain the right answers, I noticed it said, “Aztec,” at the top. I excitedly read the first question. I knew the answer. This is what I was so bored with earlier when Tanya was complaining so much to me. I skimmed the rest of the test quickly. I knew it all. I was overjoyed with myself and with Tanya. At the time she was a pain but now she had saved my grade. I quickly filled in the answers and turned in my test. Ms. Torres didn’t seem very pleased with how happy I looked, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

Keelan Tidwell Untitled As I was walking into the gym at about 2:50 when my good friend Sam approached me. We talked quite a bit about random stuff and then our coach called us to grab some basketballs for warm ups. I walked inside the locker room with my other friend Rj, and we grabbed most of the balls and put them in the main gym. We were shooting around in a second until I saw half of the team attempting dunks. I checked my Ipod for the time and it was only 2:52 so I decided to join the group. I saw my friends (Jake, Tyler, and Sam) allattempting dunks and I was tempted to try it. I felt very stiff and sore so I just grabbed the rim for a start and it has never been so easy for me to grab the rim before. A couple seconds later I felt very confident so I took a ball and jumped as high as I could and my whole hand went above the basketball rim. My buddy Rj then yelled “ Keyshawn just dunk it.” I replied, “I cant…” Just instantly he replied “you can, stop being a coward and do it.” I rubbed the bottom of my shoe and stretched really quickly. I approached the 3point line and began to take off. I did a couple stutter steps and after a couple steps I sprinted. I felt very loose and I could feel my legs getting lighter and lighter the closer I got to the rim. As the rim was about 5 feet away I began to lift up, I could feel my whole body glide across the room as a seagull glides over a sea. I rose the ball high in the air and my head was right by the rim. “This is it.” I said in my head. I threw the ball down and came down with a good landing. Everyone started freaking out as I rose a #1 finger high in the air and ran out the room. I told myself, “I just dunked a basketball…I just dunked a basketball.”

Morgan West

Untitled

Don was casually walking home from the grocery, and for the first time in a while, he only wore a tshirt, not a sweatshirt. The weather had definitely changed in the past couple days, and Don was very excited, summer and spring were his favorite seasons of the year because of the nice walks outdoors, and the how warm it was. As he trotted down Lincoln Blvd, he thought about the things he had to buy for his mom. “1 avocado, 2 tomatoes, tortilla chips, and cheese”, Don annunciated. His family was making nachos for dinner, and he loved, the golden chewy cheese, and the big crunch from all of the chips. While this thought occurred in his head, he looked up. Isaac was jogging down the street, and Don ran up to him, “Hey Isaac what are you up to?” Isaac did not respond. He seemed preoccupied, and not willing to talk at the moment. Don really wanted to talk about the new episode of South Park on last night; But Isaac was off in his own world. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Don finally hollered after two minutes of silence. “Don’t want to talk, something happened to me last night.” “Come on you can tell me annnything” Don stuttered. Silence again. “Did you watch that new episode of South Park?” “No! I told you, I had the worst night of my life. I don’t want to talk about these dumb TV shows you watch!” Isaac cried. “Alright. Don was disappointed, because he virtually did nothing this whole Weekend except stay inside, and watch TV. “You go first, Isaac. Tell me about what happened last night. Was it like a ghost? Or something?” Isaac knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but it was Don, he could trust him. “Alright I’ll tell you,” He said as they began to cross the street, into Glendale Park. “Basically I had the worst night of my life. At around 11 there was something outside on the street that I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was a man, and he wouldn’t stop looking at me. I finally just tried to go to sleep after staring at him for a while. It seemed like he wanted me to go with him. He stood there next to a taxicab, with the door open, and I didn’t know what to do. Plus, I kept hearing something. “Hearing what?” Don asked intently. “Hearing these sounds that just wouldn’t go away. It was like the man was whispering something to me. Trying to get my attention. The thought about this chilled Isaac’s bones to the core. He started to cry. “I don’t know why I’m so scared about it, but it won’t go away it just keeps ringing in my ears!” Isaac exasperated “Calm down, how about we go get some ice cream, that will cheer you up!” “Alright, I could go for that” Isaac replied. The two crossed the street, cars coming inches from their legs. A taxi driver stared at them intently with a grimacing look on his face. And honked his horn loudly. “Shut up, it’s a crosswalk”. Isaac yelled. As he got up, he realized something about this man. He looked very familiar. The taxi driver opened his door and slammed it. As he pulled up his overcoat, he walked over to us, and hid behind the hat he was wearing. Isaac got a terrified look on his face, and shouted “Why were you at my house! What do you want from me?” s The man didn’t reply; he just stared at the boy. The three of them continued to stand in the middle of the street. Then Isaac screamed “Who are you!” The taxi driver finally took off his hat, and Isaac couldn’t believe who it was. As he looked at Isaac, Don couldn’t help but notice that the two looked very similar. “Dad?” Don said. The man looked back. “Yes son, it’s me.” “What gave you the idea to suddenly to return home after 5 years!?” Isaac began to cry. “I am sorry.” Isaac’s dad replied. “I just wanted to see you again. I didn’t know what to do, and my only option was to try and find you.” The two embraced, and Don looked at the two of them. This was one of the saddest, and weirdest experiences that he had ever been in. “Dad, we can’t let mom see you, she would kill you if she knew you were here.” Isaac said. “I know son, I was hoping that you could come with me for a while” “I don’t know what to say…” He replied. After about ten seconds of thinking, and deliberation he said: “Dad, I will go with you, but only for the weekend, and you have to promise that you will return to see me at least 3 or 4 times a year.” As he said this, many cars started to approach the road, and started honking. “Lets go dad,” Isaac said dolefully. The two got into the cab, and Isaac’s father started the car. Suddenly, Isaac knew that he forgot something. “Wait dad, lets give Don a ride home.” Don ran over as quickly as he could. As he did this, a giant SUV nearly cut him off. “Quick, get in!” Isaac called. The three of them buckled up and were on their way, even though Don lived 3 blocks away, it was a nice gesture. “I’m sorry that you had to be there when this happened.” Isaac’s father said, as he steered. Don didn’t know what to say. He looked at Isaac, who was very teary. “Dadadad.” He stuttered softly. “Why did you walk out on me and mom?” He asked, as they pulled onto Don’s street. “I’ll tell you in a bit.” Isaac’s dad pulled into the driveway with a giant yuuurtt! Sound from the tires. As Don hopped out the door, Isaac hollered: “See you at school tomorrow.” “See you later.” Don replied. And the two friends parted ways.

Marco Willis

Untitled …Ring!... Ring!...Ring! the telephone rang. I could hear it all the way up in my room but I didn’t bother getting it. It probably was for my parents so why waste the energy to walk down stairs and get something that’s not for me, I thought to myself. “Cliff, its for you” my mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs. My time of relaxation was broken, I had get up and go see what this was all about. “Hello? I said curiously into the phone” “Cliff, its coach Jack, from the U12 soccer team you tried out for. It’s my pleasure to tell you that me and the other coaches have decided we needed your skills for our team. Are you interested in playing for us”? Hearing those words, made me feel the happiest I had ever felt in a very long time. With the excitement in my voice I quickly said, “Yes coach, I am ready to play for you”. “Well alright son, ill email your parents about practices and games, congratulations”. My energy was tremendous now was tremendous. It quickly brought me downstairs were I literally yelled it to my parents even while standing at least 4 feet away from them. ‘Mom! Dad! I made the soccer team! They’re going to email you soon about the practices and games but I MADE IT!!!” “Well congratulations cliff, me and your dad are very proud of you,” said cliffs mom. “Yeah son, we very excited to come watch you play games and everything. Should be loads of fun” That night all I could think about was the game of soccer, and playing for a real select team. My imagination ran wild and crazy. “I hope I can be an important member of the team,” I thought to myself. “Wouldn’t want them regretting putting me on the team or anything”. “Man, to think that I am going to be apart of this team, a real select team just makes my mind go crazy. I can’t wait for practices, I can’t wait for games. Soccer is going to be a great!” Knowing I loved sports game me the perspective of a soccer player. Basketball, football, and baseball were all there too, but then and there I thought my best sport was wrong. What happened the next day changed that mind set big time.

Hannah Winter

The Coffee Shop

I walked down the long narrow street; it was a quiet morning considering the fact that this was New York. The cars moved by with considerable pace, at one time the streets were completely empty. After a few moments I came to my destination. The lovely Coffee House. As I pushed open the large glass doors I encountered a wave of smells. These smells consisted of delicious coffee beans and the ever so good sweets. The doors moved aside and I walked in. The surrounding aroma filled my nostrils up and I knew at that moment today was going to be a good day. Finding a seat in this small little store was quite easy. I usually sat in the quiet corner away from the bathrooms. I put away my belongings and began to proceed towards where you ordered your drinks and such things. A small line was forming when I got there. An oddly familiar man was in front of me. He wore dark blue jeans and a white tshirt. The only familiarity that he had was the back of his head. For some reason the back of his head stood out to me and for some reason I knew that I knew whom this was. The man with curly brown locks turned around just as I was thinking of all of this, saying, “Do you happened to have fifteen cents?” It took me awhile for this to sink in. At first I did not know what was happening. I thought I was hallucinating. “Oh sorry,” I said feeling stupid, “Here you go.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out some loose change I had. During all of this he kept staring at me. Just staring hard at my face, as if he was trying to comprehend some difficult math problem for which he forgot the equation to do so. I gave him the change and then looked down, blushing with embarrassment. He turned away and paid the lady at the front for his coffee. As he walked away to sit down, I walked up to order. “One nonfat vanilla latté please.” Back at my seat, I found myself in an awkward situation. At the far end of the room, the same man from the line was staring in my direction. It was as if it was fate. Because in that moment I finally figured out whom this man was. His name was Henry Gunders. Some guy I used to date back in high school. All I remember was that we got pretty serious but for some reason some stupid thing happened and it all came to an ugly end. But that was years ago. Just right then he got up, pushed his seat aside, and began to walk in my direction. It was quite obvious that he was headed towards me. Most likely to start a conversation. As he reached my table, his hand pushed away a strand of hair from his face, his lips parted into a smile and then he spoke, just like I remembered, “Haven’t seen you in awhile,” smiling, I always did find him somewhat good looking. “How’s life treating you?” was my reply. “I can’t believe it’s been so long,” I continued saying. I could still remember the last time we had seen each other. It had been at some airport. He was passing me and I caught a glance of him as he was walking off towards his flight. “Life’s been pretty good, how about you?” He said. This was how our conversation pretty much went on for the next few moments of our lives. I asked him what he was doing here and where he was working. And in return he asked me what college I ended up going to and what happened after high school. Basically we both caught up. It was nice too. Nice to see him again after so many years, and nice to finally have a good refreshing conversation with somebody who understands you as well as he did. Time passed by, soon it was going to time for me to leave and get back home. Today was a very important day for my sister. She was throwing some sort of party to celebrate some sort of event that I couldn’t remember now. But the part that I did remember was that she told me that it was very important for me to come over and help prepare for this event. I was sad to leave my table, as well as Henry. It was apparent that Henry was staying in town for the week so we had decided to visit again and have dinner or go get some coffee. Maybe this time he’ll actually tell me why our relationship had ended. What he had done so hurtful he could never speak to me again? I felt feeling good about myself. As I said before, a day that starts with coffee is a day that will be a very pleasant day indeed. I can’t wait for the rest of this day. Hopefully the coffee will help me last through the hours spent with my sister. All I could so was hope. You know, coffee doesn’t work miracles now.

Ms. Etter Period 4

Table of contents:

Madison Bradner David Brzovic Andre Carrao Aana Farooqi Emily Grindle Andrew Horton Haleh Kendell Angela Kenealy Eliza Knowles Nikki Le Cam McMahon Tian Tian Metzgar Liam O’Neill Carter Osborne Ysabel Sandoval Sarah Semon Emma Smith Jenny Sui Stephanie Taylor

Madison Bradner

Chief Nurse Inhales Smoke We walked along the cracked sidewalk, arms linked as our steps echoed in sync along the street of occupied bars. Even with all the noise and activity surrounding us, I was too wrapped up in Nick to notice any of it. We were not conversing at all and still I felt comfortable. There were no awkward borders to defy Nick and I. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nick lean forward without missing a beat in his footing and I felt his lips press against my forehead. A small sheepish smile spread across my painted red lips, but who can stop a girl from smiling when a guy like Nick makes such a charming gesture? The grin disappeared as I became aware of my surroundings. I jolted around, scanning the area for a familiar stern face. Sure enough, one of the higher ranked soldiers was eying us with a quizzical look upon his face. Inaudibly, my removed by hand from the stern grip of Nick’s, which was wrapped around mine and started swing my arm in rhythm with my steps. He did not question my actions because he knew I was jittery about the possibility of being caught by the chief nurse. Being that it’s only our first real date. As we turned a corner, away from the curious glances, He moved his hand into the small of my back, turning me in the direction of Andy’s; the most popular hang out on the street. “How does Andy’s sound tonight, doll?” Nick asked, looking at me with those heart stopping eyes of his. “Wouldn’t go anywhere else! You know how much I love Andy’s. Cheap drinks, good fries and good company!” I drag on, this time taking the lead, wrapping my free right arm around his waste and leading him into the front door of the already full bar, unconsciously glancing over my shoulder. Just to make sure we weren’t being watched. We were greeted by a multitude of friendly and familiar faces. Once we stepped into Andy’s I knew I didn’t have to worry about the wondering eyes outside. My shoulders relaxed and I let out a deep breath and just let myself absorb everything. The smell of freshly brewed beer and french fries drifted into my nose and made my taste buds water. The deep red coloring on the walls made me think of my mama’s dining room. She loved the color red. She would always say that it was the color of roses and roses were the color of love. Being stationed here, in the middle the second World War, it was hard to think of love. The deep red that my mama loved no longer reminded me of roses, but of the bloody wounded soldiers. Yet, here at Andy’s, war was the last thing on my mind. Glancing to my right, there was an unfamiliar carved sign that was stained a deep brown hanging on the wall behind the bar that read:

War is cruelty. There's no use trying to reform it, the crueler it is the sooner it will be over. --William Tecumseh Sherman—

Except for at the moment I couldn’t help but think to myself that maybe war wasn’t as cruel as everyone made it out to be. Standing here in the entrance to Andy’s with the other regulars smiling and winking at us as we stood there waiting for Babe to come over and seat us. Not a second later Babe comes bouncing over to us, bubbly as ever with her hazel eyes sparkling. “Hey there Baby Ruth, what’ll it be tonight? The bar or a seat for you two love birds,” Babe said with a wink, her long blonde ponytail swing to and fro in rhythm to the record playing. “Seats for us tonight Sugar Babe, somewhere close to the dance floor if you don’t mind,” I replied with a large grin, intertwining my arm with Nick’s and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, leaving a faint outline of my ruby red lipstick in its place. Without further ado, I leaned forward and snatched a table towel out the back pocket of Babe’s jeans and lightly spun around to dab the lipstick off of his unshaved cheek. He gave me a flash my favorite cocky smile and flexed his left arm that still remained wrapped around my waste. Babe turned around and said, “Right this way you two!” She turned around and started walking towards a table in the off to the left of the dance floor and to the right of the bar. The sound of our cheap black heels clicked on the plastic plating that covered the floor. The music changed and a really catchy tune started playing from the old jukebox in the corner. Reaching behind me I grabbed Nick’s hand that had originally been cradled in the small of my back and held tightly to his hand as I started to bounce along to the music. A giggle escaped from my lips as Nick twirled me around as we were passing across the dance floor. One of the bobby pins fell loose from my hair and a perfect curl fell and landed in my face. Nick snatched it playfully and tucked it behind my ear, leaving a compassionate kiss in the place where it had fallen. We stayed on the dance floor twirling, and laughing for the remainder of the song as Babe set two menus and two glasses of water on our table. We sat down, already panting from the exhilaration of that one song. “Having fun yet?” Nick asked in his teasing voice, holding the water glass up to his mouth, getting ready to taste the cold liquid, “Bucket of Andy’s famous fries and a pink lady cocktail, sweets?” Man was he cute! I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle, “You know me too well Mr. Anderson! But actually, tonight I believe I see a Manhattan in my future. And for you…?” “I’ll have the same,” he tells the waitress who had just written down my order, “but we’ll share the bucket of fries so don’t bother cooking up two batches!” He turned to me and said quietly as though the waitress was not listening, “Even though you and I both know we could polish down two buckets of Andy’s fries without thinking twice about it.” He gave me his favorite crooked grin and then turned in his chair to face the waitress who was waiting patiently, “That’ll be all, thanks miss.” As we stepped outside into the fresh air after a good time inside, Nick placed both of his hands on my hips and drew my body into his. Without hesitation, his soft lips were caressing mine. My mind was spinning and all I could think about was this moment. This perfect moment with Nick’s lips pressed against mine. Someone coughed and I snapped my head in the direction of the sound, away from the perfect kiss. To my dismay, standing across the street with a cigarette in her clenched mouth, eyes burning holes through my scalp was the Chief Nurse.

David Brzovic

Calm Before the Storm Hardtack is not delicious. It is, not surprisingly, tough to eat, and rather flavorless at that. That being said, when you’re out marching, drilling, or getting shot at all day, it’s almost welcome to sit down and eat… hardtack. That doesn’t stop people from complaining about it. They complain about everything and we’re tired of it. That is, James and I are. Well, truth be told, I’m being hypocritical. James wouldn’t have been. He never complained, as soon as he settled into everything. Everything being all the marching and the difference between almost constant gunshots and almost complete silence. I prefer the silence. He likes the green of the grass, the tents, the hustle of people trying to get places, and the other things that are happening in our little barracks. It almost seems like he’s been waiting for this war. After James was nearly trampled and he broke only a couple bones, he was pulled back into the fighting, and he was much happier after that. He started talking to us, he was much more energetic. But the major difference had to be in the way he acted; he was taking more risks, putting his life on the line more and more often. It almost seems like he got a little stir crazy waiting for his leg to heal. I guess that allowed him to be much more… amiable? Yeah, amiable, friendly, pleasant. Which brings us to now. “It’s raining.” In fact, it was pouring. Pouring down rain on us soldiers who were a windblown hillside with nothing to protect us from the cold and the rain but our tents and the clothes on our backs. I asked if we were supposed to be doing anything. “No,” was his terse reply. “Well what did they tell us we were supposed to be doing?” I returned. “They told us to wait for orders.” “There had to be more than that.” I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t. “You were there,” he said laughing at me. “That doesn’t mean I was listening.” “Fair enough. We are here to fight the enemy, although, they – the enemy – don’t quite know it yet.” We’re supposed to be here to close off Stonewall Jackson at this bottleneck… I think. We’re supposed to be doing something, and keeping quiet at the same time. It’s a lot easier said than done. You can’t move tens of thousands of men around a hillside with trees in the way and expect them not to be noticeable. James, now he kept quite. He did everything responsible. And while we’ve been waiting for hours, he sat right next to me, protecting his gun from the rain with his own jacket. Not a word out of him. Well not a word that isn’t some joke or some aside at what we’re doing. I said to him, “How is it, James, that you are able to sit still in the rain – without a jacket – and not expect to catch anything?” To this he didn’t respond. So I tried again, I said to him, “Well how are the plants in this area?” That got him started up; he began to describe the entire “flora” of the entire valley. He said everything was so much greener in the countryside, and then started talking about how the trees grew in this area, how soil affected everything. I stopped listening as soon as he tried to describe how the trees drank in water. I stopped caring way before then, but it seemed to do him good, seemed to cheer him up again – or at least cheer him up more. It was good to hear someone’s voice that wasn’t swearing at the weather or at the CO. He stopped talking eventually, but he knew so much about these trees here, so much about other plants, and plus, I wanted to keep him talking. Other people wouldn’t talk about anything that wasn’t obscene in some way. “How is it that you know much about these plants here?” I finally asked him. Turns out he couldn’t wait to tell me. “Had to be back when I stayed two years in France that I started studying vegetation,” he said. “I was living at this vineyard…” I let him talk on. To be honest, I don’t care how the “grapes reached as best they could to the horizon.” But I did like imagining the sqcenery. I don’t know, I guess I just always liked mountains in the background, how they would appear blue, even though they were gray and green. I liked the glaciers on top and how they would stay there all the way through the year, even after the snow was melted. He didn’t spend a whole lot of time on it though; he spent more time on the taste of the wine than the imagery. He called himself, “quite the connoisseur.” And by the way he talked, he sounded very much like one. I mean if I knew most of what he was saying, I’m sure that I would be calling him that too. Unfortunately for him, we don’t have any wine out here, at least, not for us. I’ve seen some of the officers enjoying some, and James said that's how he was transferred into this part of the army… but he doesn’t like to talk about it much. “Artillery’s firing,” he said to me without breaking his gaze away from the valley floor. “We should be moving soon.” He was off to his own world again. Funny how that happens. So its like he said, we should be moving soon, however we were towards the back, we might not even get to fight. He’s not particularly happy about that. It’s the only other thing that seems to get him motivated going after the enemy. He says because it allows him to not think. I don’t know what he’s talking about, I can’t stop from thinking, from worrying that my head might get blown off at any moment. Yeah, I would hate that. And I’ve seen it happen to, I don’t think many people realized what they were signing up for. I didn’t.

Andre Carrao

Flashbacks It was frigid. The walls, cold as steel, penetrated the atmosphere of the vacant room. Bunk beds in twobyten formation created a wide and empty hall engulfing nearly the whole room. Other recruits found their way into the usual routine of the day, and absorbed the precious sleep they could get. Adam and I stay awake. The entire time we whisper, daring not to wake anyone up. We both lay on the bottom mattress parallel to each other. My face was pressed against the pisspoor excuse for a bed. Mustiness literally came out from the material and into my nostrils. At this point though, I’m growing not to care. This mattress isn’t going to be the thing that’ll take my life. “What finally made you decide to enlist?” Adam began. We’ve been over this before. We have been best friends at the barracks ever since we arrived. Each time he asks, I avoid the question. “John, talk to me,” Adam is getting serious. He’s tired and done with the neglect I put towards him. Without haste, I find the courage to mutter a few words. “When he killed himself, I couldn’t handle it,” Adam’s heart clenched. His stomach dropped immediately as he took in the words I spoke. I took a breath. “My father was the most honorable man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Coming home from work every day from working a fourteenhour shift and still making dinner for me. Reading me stories at night, some he even wrote himself. I had a hard time putting my mind around the things he did,” Sympathetic, but also very curious, Adam asked, “What happened, John? What did your father do to you?” “It wasn’t to me.” Emotions flooded back into my brain that hasn’t been there since it happened. “It was to my mother,” Adam was silent. What would he say to that anyways? “My mother had been sleeping with someone. She had an affair with him. The other man promised to give my mother some money for an investment in who knows what; she never told me. The only way he would cooperate was for my father, Elliot, to give him twenty thousand dollars. That was money we hardly had. We didn’t have. Somehow my mother persuaded my father into coughing up the money. She told him that he was just a friend she met that knew how to be able to pay off debt.” I looked over to see if Adam was still listening. He was. “As you can probably tell, the man didn’t reimburse us like he promised. He took the money and ran. That left my family with nothing.” Adam half interrupted, “John, I….” “I’m not done yet!” I nearly forgot to stay at a whisper. Adam looked away. I felt bad for snapping at him. He’d done nothing wrong. “Sorry. It wasn’t the money issue though that brought me here.” “Then what did bring you here?” “My father came home with a gun one day. He never owned a gun before,” this was getting difficult. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He came home drunk one night. He was knocking at my door. Pounding at it, forcing himself in. My mother told me to hide under my bed and to not come out no matter what happened. Quickly I got under and pulled the covers over. There was yelling. ‘What the hell are you doing!’ my mother exclaimed. ‘Get out of here!’ “That was the last I heard of my mother. A gunshot shattered into the air, exploding through the house like a wild fire. The sound of a sand bag being dropped down a flight of stairs echoed through my room. “The door opened. I did exactly what my mother told me to. I never even moved. The hall light found its way into every corner of my bedroom. A pool of red marked the place where my mother had lost her life. Loud footsteps. Black shoes. Denim jeans. My father scanned the room for me. Eventually his feet turned away from my bed and towards the door. My mattress sunk as the weight of his body was put against the bed. He pauses for a minute, maybe two. A second bullet broke the silence. My father’s leg twitched and then went limp in a different position than it had been before.” Adam was quiet. I was quiet. The entire room was quiet. It felt as if men in my battalion that were sleeping were compassionate towards me. I hated it. A few moments passed when Adam raised his voice, “John, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I” “Don’t pity me! Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. You wanted the reason I joined this hellhole, didn’t you?” No answer. “Well didn’t you?” Adam looked ashamed. He looked as if he regretted this whole experience. His usual look of a southern farm boy with a year round tan and high cheekbones suddenly dropped. I could tell by the way we sulked back into his sheets and rolled the opposite way of me that he didn’t pity me, he was upset with himself for asking me this question. One seemingly unimportant question that completely threw the night away. I was crying. For the first time since I joined the military, I was actually crying. Can’t say that I liked it to be honest. There was a lack of responsibility, maturity, and capability. If I nearly broke down from a story that happened to me ten years back, how would I react in the battlefield? I began to think about all that just happened here. The little happiness that was in this room has repressed. All I felt was discomfort. I wanted to prove to the others that I wouldn’t be a “screwup kid” like they all said. No more “John, I’m sorry”. No more “I feel so bad for him”. And finally, no more “What are you doing with your life?” Just because my parents weren’t alive didn’t mean I couldn’t succeed. That’s why they’re wrong. They all forgot one thing. I have more determination than any of them combined.

Aana Farooqi

The Argument There I was sitting in the classroom, well it was more like a living room. I could smell all the sandwiches everyone was eating. Some chicken, some with marmalade. I had some bread that mother got from the bakery across the street. The bread was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. As I bit into the bread, I could taste the sweet, smooth butter. The room was filled with the usual kids munching their lunches and talking to their friends. They were all around my age, 10 or 11 years old. I had a piece of paper in my lap with a few scribbled notes on it. We had been studying the culture and future of Ukraine. We had to predict what was going to happen in the next two years, here in our beautiful country of Ukraine. Among other things, I predicted that in 1342, two years from now, Susan and I would still be best friends. I smiled to myself as I reread what I had written. I looked up to see Susan sitting next to me eating a sandwich, which looked like it had egg in it. I’d never really liked eggs. Mother would try and force me to eat them but I would always go to the hut and give them to Susan. She would always be willing eat them. I could hear Susan chewing her sandwich now. My gaze strayed outside to see a sunny day. There were birds chirping and men plowing and harvesting in the fields. I wished I could go outside and eat my lunch, but Mrs. Elizabeth said that we only had 10 minutes to eat lunch, and we couldn’t go outside. Mrs. Elizabeth was sitting at the table by herself grading finished papers. I wondered where her lunch was. Looking up I saw that Susan had almost finished her sandwich. I stuffed the rest of my bread in my mouth. I tried to look away before Susan could see my mouth full of bread, which looked as though I was storing nuts in my mouth. Suzy was too fast and saw my filled with bread and started laughing. Swallowing the rest of my bread, I began to laugh as well. The other students really didn’t notice because they were busy with their own conversations. A few eyes, though, strayed over to us. Susan and I ignored them. “Hey Amelia, can we go over to the hut after class today? We haven’t gone there in a long time”, said Susan. She looked so excited. If we hadn’t been surrounded by all the other kids, she probably would have started jumping with joy. The hut was a place where Susan and I could play alone and have fun. Nobody knew where it was. Susan and I were the creators of the hut. We built the hut near the Black Sea because I loved the smell of fresh seawater. It was also the perfect place because nobody could find it. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” I didn’t want to look up at Suzy, so I started playing with my hair. Acting as though nothing had happened. I didn’t look up but I could feel Susan looking at me with disappointment in her eyes. “Oh, well okay. That’s all right,” I could tell that she was trying to maintain her voice, trying to sound natural. “Suzy, it’s just that, father is at home and he’s kind of sick. I know he’ll get better but I’d like to spend the day with him. I think I should help him out,” I looked up and saw Susan’s expression change. “Oh! Is he really sick? My mom and dad were talking the other day about this sickness that has been going on. They say that you could die from it.” I could tell she wasn’t mad at me, but was now interested. “No he’s not that sick. He’ll get better in a few days.” I couldn’t help but think that maybe father is really sick. The sickness that Suzy was talking about, maybe father might have it. I’m worrying too much. Father can’t be that ill. He just has the common fever that everybody gets once in a while. There’s nothing to worry about. I shook the thought out of my head. “Well you can’t be that sure. Dad said that there was this man who lived by the sea, where they unload the ships at the dock, he got sick and died a week later” said Suzy with a questioning look on her face. “Are you sure this happened in Ukraine? Plus, father has been sick for more than a week, and he looks all right to me,” I said firmly. “ Yes this happened here in Ukraine. This happened somewhere near the hut. That man looked fine as well, he looked like he had a fever but nothing too bad. Then one day, my father arrived at his house and saw the man lying in bed, motionless. The sickness spreads inside the body they say, you can’t see it on the outside” Now, Susan looked a bit frightened. “It’s all right Susan, fathers going to be all right. I’m going to go home and help father get better,” I said. I felt some eyes were straying over to Susan and I. Susan noticed as well and she lowered her voice. “But sometimes you can’t do anything about it. You can’t stop the sickness from spreading,” said Susan “Susan, who told you all this stuff? Because whoever told you this has got it all wrong,” I was getting annoyed. Why couldn’t Susan understand that father only had a fever? It’s nothing big. Besides, I was going to go home and make him get better. I don’t get why Susan is so concerned. It isn’t her father who we’re talking about. “Like I said, my mom and dad were talking about this. They were discussing this over dinner. I don’t think they noticed I was there because they would have never let me listen to this type of news. Amelia, why don’t you take your dad to the doctor?” asked Susan. I could tell she was trying to help but she wasn’t. “Susan, you don’t need to give me advice about what to do with my father. This is my family we are talking about. You don’t see me giving you advice about what to do with your family,” I could tell Susan saw that I was getting annoyed with her. “Amelia, I consider your family, my family. I was only trying to help,” said Susan while trying to keep her voice calm. “Well you’re not helping at all. All you’re doing is making matters worse. Can we please stop talking about this?” I couldn’t control my anger with Susan anymore. She was being so stubborn. It’s like she wants my family be sick. “I’m just trying to help! I care about your family as much as you care about your own family,” her eyes were sparkling with tears. I ignored them. Now more people were starting to stare. “Just stop! I don’t want to talk about is anymore!” I picked up my books and walked over to the other side of the room. “Amelia I’m sorry,” said Susan through her sobs. I disregarded them. Trying not to look up and see what Suzy was doing, I started doing the homework, while trying to maintain my temper. I shouldn’t have yelled at Suzy like that. Wait, what if Suzy was right, what if father does have the plague? No, what am I thinking, father can’t have the plague, that’s ridiculous. I would be able to tell if he had the plague. But Suzy was making me really mad. There was no need for her to try to help out my family. Oh, I wish I hadn’t yelled at Suzy.

Emily Grindle RUN “Oh Bethy…” he calls sticky sweet, and drenched in sarcasm. I am afraid, I want to run. I know what I did is “wrong” to white folks around here and Carolina is crawlin’ with ‘em. “ELIZABETH, honey I’m TALKING to YOU!” This time his voice a little more frustrated. I hear him running. “Run now Beth, and you’ll never see your little friend again. Baby, how’d you like that, come home with me now sweet heart.” “Oh Father, pet names don’t make your cruel controlling corpse of a body any better!” I sweetly call and stalk away. Everyone knows that moment midmay, the sun is shining and you are counting the seconds until the school bell rings to set you free. Five… four… three… two… one… BAM!!! I can’t think of anything but running out those big heavy wood schoolhouse doors. You know those days where the sun is shining and it’s absolutely beautiful and the fields just outside are calling you to play in them? The green of the grassy fields looks like a slash of soft paint, and the smell of the orchids fill the thick spring air. I imagine Josiah and me running playing and living like children. Even with my surrounding atmosphere so lovely and engaging, one thing can ruin such a mood, my father. His stomping feet precede the rest of him. I’m counting to three, and on three I’ll run. One… two…THREE. Josiah save me. I can feel the dust from the road begin to rise in a cloud behind me. There are fields on both sides of me that I could just run off to, and never come back. The schoolhouse is on the very edge of town, with a lot of open country and plantation surrounding it. I cannot stand this town any more, The problem with the beautiful fields is all my fathers doing. Slaves or “workers” as he calls them, are everywhere, littering the scenery. “Two can play this game darling” he chases after me. I take off and run like the dickens out into the fields facing the trees. He is a fullgrown strong brute of man, with a wiry dirt beard, leather overalls, and clunky boots, all of this gaining on me. His sad, angry eyes have an array of wrinkles that spread up and around his forehead, making him look decrepit, malicious and enervated. A melody is following me like a shadow, beating with my feet, filling my bones. My curly braids bounce behind me. I feel them beat my back, my drum, and I hear screaming. It’s me. the surprising terror is filling my lungs. The pitch ends as he wrenches me down by my left pigtail. I lay on the ground… him glaring over me. “Elizabeth Rowan you are to NEVER run and defend one of them ‘niggers’ again, you understand me?” “YOU are not my conscience, my god, or my heart. I will never do something so wrong as follow your orders.” I spit through my teeth onto his boots. A strong thud to my ribs and right cheekbone…pain obstructing my mouth for the time being. Some folks’ father is known as the town drunk, or the hard worker, or the poor bum on the street corner asking for pennies and bread. Better yet, some are known as the very successful wealthy businessman. I’m sad to report, I’m laying here watching the clouds and knowing my father is none of these, and yet all of them wrapped up in one. “GET HOME NOW LOVEY!!” he calls over his shoulder My melody comes to a satisfying calming chorus that keeps my heart thumping. Music seems to be the only thing that keeps me living when I’m truly in the thick of it. My father is a single man, who resents his only daughter, as she is the cause of his true love’s painful death. I didn’t mean to. I had no control. It was all when I was born. If only I was never born he would be a happier man. There are times when my father uses me as one of his pretty things he owns and shows off, but mostly he uses me as a worker or treats me as dirt on the white rug. My father gets his way, by force or will. This odious man contaminates everyone else he encounters with his misery. He despises passion, joy, love, and happiness. The only thing this man ever feels is hate and flesh beneath his fist. I think he hates me because I feel so much. My life is a song; my heart a drum. Everything I do is drenched with joy. He pushes out all feeling and goes straight for killing the gut, to get what he wants. My eye is pretty swollen now. I should probably walk home soon. I never realized how bruises can accumulate when you’re not counting. Everyone has a song; needing an audience. I have an audience of one. My only friend. Josiah, who has grown up the son of my father’s house maid. Josiah has a voice of gold, and a heart of an angel. He taught me to feel the sun on a cloudy day, the breeze in a desert and satisfaction in despair. Josiah is one of a kind. Josiah is black. As I think of him, I realize if my father is livid with me, I cannot simply imagine Josiah. At this thought I get up and clamber home, despite my throbbing ribs and pulverizing headache. Some things in life are more important than yourself, for example morals. Humane loving godly morals!! And if nobody stands up for them, then the wretches of the world win.

Andrew Horton

Guilt I’m beginning to wish I had stayed home again. I can’t imagine the end product being worth everything we’ve gone through thus far. Perhaps things will turn out for the better, but I’m certainly not betting on that now. I’m upset with Pa of course; whom else do I have to blame for Amy’s death? If we had simply stayed in Missouri none of this would have happened. I suppose I do regret what I said to him, but I wonder whether or not I would actually take it back, given the opportunity. We’d just reached Barlow Road and, just as I had feared, snow had begun to descend upon the approaching trail. By the time we traversed nearly half of the road, the storm was far worse even than it was on South Pass. The oxen struggled desperately to find footing on the slick, icy rocks. Ma and Susan were clinging to each other as they walked behind the wagon in order to lighten the load for the oxen. Pa was pulling them along and I walked alongside the wagon, nearest to the edge. The mountain was beautiful on the way up, but the veil of the snowstorm limited sight to about thirty feet. The snow had covered up all the rocks and, being a new trail, there were plenty of them. The cold was unbearable. My wrists had become sore from supporting my body each time I fell, but the worst part was having to bury my arms in the frigid snow. My blistered feet gladly welcomed the warmth from the blood. Whenever the peak of the pass seemed to draw near I would wait out our overcoming with such anticipation, but would soon discover the deceit behind each bluff. Minutes felt like hours, hours like days, and with each painful, toilsome step my vexation toward Oregon City, the entire trail, my father and, frankly, every current aspect of my life escalated. I was just about ready to turn around and start back for The Dalles, where the road began. Then he slipped. “NO!” Ma screamed. I didn’t see it at first (I had told myself to ignore the false peaks and focus solely on each step) but I looked up to see Pa, having slipped on a narrowly slanted stone, hurdling uncontrollably off the trail and down the steep ravine. Ma and Susan ran to the edge and knelt down beside it. My initial reaction was motionless shock with an unexplainable wave of guilty heat, but I quickly knew that I needed to do something. I jumped down and slid on my side after him. He had hit his head hard on a tree sometime during his descent and by the time I reached him at the bottom (about forty yards later) he was unconscious. I wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled him up the slope with more strength than even I knew that I had. Then realization of the whole situation hit me. Then the tears came. I cried for Pa, pleading over and over again for forgiveness, taking back all the evilminded things I thought or said to him. I cried for Amy, apologizing to her for everything that I did or didn’t do for her. I cried for myself, upset for even thinking about betraying my own family. I cried all the way to the top of the hill where Ma and Susan lifted him up and into the wagon on a makeshift bed. I knew it was too late, but I didn’t want to think about that then. I took over Pa’s duty of leading the oxen, and tried to take no notice of the faint, tired cries from within the wagon. The descent was far easier and the rest of us made it out of the mountain safely. I could hardly watch as we lowered him into our makeshift grave, but stole one last, mournful look at his innocent face before finishing the burial. I write this as I sit in our meager but sufficient new home, south of Fort Vancouver. It would be a lie to say that I regret the trip. I certainly wish some things could have turned out differently. I miss Amy and Pa more than words can say, but I’ve learned that suffering is a significant part of life, and the greatest lives are lived by those who can and did overcome the greatest suffering. That lesson itself is worth everything the trail has to offer.

Haleh Kendell

Revolution The sky was a dark orange as Sebastien hurried down the street, tugging Isabella behind him. In its last gasps of light, the sun turned the clouds purple, casting dark shadows around them. “Sebastien, where are we going?” Isabella whined. Sebastien ignored her; they needed to get off the street. Le Harve wasn’t safe at night; citizens had begun taking the revolution into their own hands, people were being falsely accused, and hauled away in a violent shuffle. “Look Sebastien,” Isabella was excited now. “There’s a big dark fish up there,” she was pointing to the dark sky. “I think it wants to follow us.” “Don’t be silly Isabella,” Sebastien sighed. “There aren’t any fish up there.” “But look! Look, it’s there, I promise, it’s there,” Isabella was tugging on Sebastien’s arm with both hands. Reluctantly, Sebastien turned around. His eyes followed Isabella’s arm as it pointed to the sky; indeed, there was a fish. The clouds had come together to form a wide eyed, openmouthed fish, and the way the fins were stuck to the side, made it look like the fish was swimming toward them. However, to Sebastien the fish looked more dead than alive. For it’s eyes were bulging awkwardly and it’s mouth was open, in what looked like shock. But, he knew not to get involved in Isabella’s games. Sebastien smiled. Grabbed Isabella’s hand, but this time more gently, and continued down the road. “Sebastien, why don’t you have fun?” Isabella asked. Once again, he ignored her. The sun was much too close to setting for Sebastien’s comfort. “Sebastien,” Isabella whined. They needed to get off the street. Sebastien looked around, for somewhere, anywhere to go. “Sebastien!” Isabella wailed. He whirled around, “What?” he yelled, half in anger, half in panic. “I don’t wanna go, I’m tired.” “Come on Isabella, we’re almost there,” Sebastien said, he eyes searching the empty street, for somewhere to go. “No, I won’t!” Isabella stopped. “Isabella, please.” “I shan’t, I won’t go!” She broke free of his grip, and turned away. “I wanna go back to Damien, he’s the better big brother,” she began to run back the way they came, stumbling over her own feet with almost every step. Sebastien didn’t turn around; he had just become aware of a silence that stretched over the street. His eyes narrowed slightly, the sounds of other voices weren’t there, or anywhere. Only the faint sounds of those working at the harbor below could be heard. They were like whispers to his ears. “Isabella, we need to leave now,” Sebastien said, his voice quiet, but stern. There was no reply. “Isabella, please, we need to…” His voice trailed off as he turned around; he stood completely and utterly alone on the newly dark street. “Isabella?” he called his voice filling with panic. His ears were only met with that unholy silence. He’d lost her. This was the last thing he needed. Ever since their mother was killed for being involved in the Circle Social, Sebastien didn’t trust the night. It brought out the worst in people. Horrors citizens couldn’t (or wouldn’t) imagine during the day happen at night. Those with power gain confidence, those without gain fear. A scream broke through the newly set night. It was Isabella’s voice. It shot through Sebastien like an icy bullet. He took off in the direction of her scream. “Please let her be alright,” he breathed to himself. Sebastien knew that was false hope, of course. If she was alright, she wouldn’t have screamed. Sebastien kicked himself for being so slow. A second scream broke through the night just like the first, but this time Sebastien stopped dead. The moon shone brightly, and it cast it’s light straight ahead of Sebastien. Not more than a few yards away, was a group of five men, surrounding Isabella. Ducking onto a side street, Sebastien stared on terrified. He could see her struggling, twisting and turning, letting her small fists fly. Sebastien smiled at her effort, but he knew she couldn’t fight them off. Quietly he crept up the side street, which turned and ran parallel to the street Isabella and her captors were on. Their low scruffy voices began to fill his ears. “Aaak,’ one of them cried. “What’s the matter?” another jeered. “Can’t win a fight against woman?” “The little freak bit me!” The first one yelled. Sebastien smiled at this comment. A passageway between the side street and the main street appeared in front of him. He peered around the corner, holding his breath. “Ha, that’s what you get, for fighting a whore.” The second one said, leaning close to Isabella. Sebastien noticed that he was much shorter than the rest. “They don’t fight clean,” a third chimed in. “Come on, let’s get this garbage out of here,” the fourth said, he had a large bushy beard. “No! I won’t go,” Isabella cried. “Oh yes you will,” this was the fifth man talking. “You will, unless you want to be taught some manners first,” teasing a knife he held around her neck playfully. Sebastien’s eyes narrowed, as his blood began to boil. “No,” Isabella said, this time much quieter. “I thought so,” the man gave the knife a quick twitch, and a red slash appeared on her cheek. No, this was too much, Sebastien had to act; he couldn’t let his sister come to anymore harm. He needed a distraction. Sebastien looked around frantically; finally his eyes came to rest on his small doctor’s bag. Quickly he opened it, and pulled out several empty crystal vials. Keeping his eyes on the men, he threw the bottles down onto the street. The crashed echoed through the night. As all five of the men whirled around, Sebastien pulled his head back, making sure that they got a glimpse of him. “You two,” he heard the man with the knife bark. Heavy footsteps, come thundering in his direction, their sound echoed across the street. Sebastien could feel his heart beat in his throat. “This is not the time to give into fear,” he whispered to himself. Then the two other men appeared. They scrambled toward him; the closer one had his right shoulder cocked back. They moved much faster than he had expected, they would be on him any second, tearing him apart. There wasn’t time to plan; a fist was already sailing toward him. Without thinking, Sebastien brought his right foot forward, turned his body to the side, leaned out and punched the first man on the temple. He went sprawling backward and didn’t get up. The second man, taken aback by this display, halted abruptly. His balance was thrown off by that sudden stop. Sebastien took a step forward, grabbed the man’s shoulders, brought his knee to his gut, and threw him down onto the cold ground. Sebastien was breathing hard, he could feel the adrenaline pouring thorough him. He rounded the corner, with a cry. The little man turned around just in time for Sebastien to grab him, lift him off his feet, and throw him to the ground as well. Now it was just him and the man with the knife. Nothing else mattered right now, he was so close, just a few more steps and. Wham! A heavy fist came out of nowhere and hit Sebastien hard in the stomach. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and his knees buckled. The bearded man stood over him, grinning. He needed to get up, he needed to fight. Isabella had begun to scream again, his mind was buzzing with noise. “Come on,” growled the man with the knife. “We need to get out of here.” The bearded man gave Sebastien a strong kick to the face, and another kick to the gut, before grunting in approval, and walking toward his comrade. “Get up, get, up,” yelled Sebastien’s mind. Isabella’s screams echoed in his mind. He tried to stand up, but he couldn’t. Blood was gushing from his nose, his bottom lip was split open, and still he was gasping for air. Isabella was now sobbing, and Sebastien slowly raised his gaze. Her hair, that had been pinned up, had now fallen into her face. Sebastien could still make out two fresh cuts; one across her shoulder, and another across her face, slicing over her lips. Sebastien could tell, by the profuse amounts of blood, that both of the cuts were deep. “You weakling,” his mind roared. “Get up, get up and help her,” But still he could not. Isabella’s sobbing had become louder. Her cries scratched and tore at his mind, as struggled to stand. “You fool! You arrogant, pathetic, fool! Get up now!” He was on all fours now, his legs too shaky to hold him up. “No. Sebastien…” It was her last desperate cry, and he could do nothing to help. The bearded man hauled her onto his shoulder, and then the three of them disappeared; swallowed by the night, leaving Sebastien alone. He staggered to his feet, stumbling forward several yards, before knees buckled again, and Sebastien fell sideways, something caught his eye as he fell. Slowly, he pulled himself up, and reached his arm out. His hand closed around a fragile object. Vision blurring, he pulled it close to his face; it was Isabella’s hairpin. Made out of bone, but thin. The small flower carved into the top seemed to call out to him. He leaned his head back, coughing, the taste of blood filling his mouth, tears falling down his face, and his newly crooked nose. She was gone, gone forever. He was too tired to move, Sebastien closed his eyes, and almost at once was met by a surrounding darkness.

Angela Kenealy

Surreptitious Rest As far back as I could remember, I always dreamed of streets and houses paved in gold. My life – at least, the town I was confined to – was never dressed in such a luxury. The hovels surrounding me were built of wood, dirt, and an unavoidable aura of bitter morose. The marriage of the three both physical and mental features produced an overall dreary atmosphere that enclosed the land. Even the elated chirps of the native birds couldn’t poke through the bleak overlay that veiled the town. Day in and day out, all of the lowly serfs here spent hours on end working to provide for their families. Almost all, at least – ideally, a peasant had not a minute to spare due to labor, but I was not what one might call “ideal.” I couldn’t stand the thought of wasting my life away like that. Instead, I escaped the clutches of town and fled to the widely feared woods. Such adventure was important to me. I liked thrill, I liked to be active. All in all, if I could’ve had anything in the world, I would have wanted to be a knight, a valiant man in armor who rode on white horses and carried his noble sword, spouting fear into the hearts of anyone who defied him. That, though, was only a flicker of a dream in my mind. I would and never could be a knight – I was a simple serf, and nothing could revise that fact. The only object I owned that fed my fantasy was an actual knight’s sword that I had discovered in the very woods I always visited. It was beautiful to me – a blade of sparkling silver propped upon a golden handle, all adding to a weight of around thirtytwo pounds. It must have been dropped or left behind, perhaps after a riveting battle. It had been partially buried in the soft dirt beneath an assembly of thorn bushes. Sometimes I liked to imagine it had been specifically left there for me, as if a gift from the gods. I knew that was impossible, however, and settled for merely enjoying my luck. This cherished weapon was my very own secret, and I took great care to keep it out of sight from everyone. Although I hated to part with it at all, I felt safe leaving it in the forest, obscured by dirt and foliage. The animals never touched it. This forest was indeed a majestic one; at least to me. It was an emerald ocean, teeming with noisy life and tall green trees that pierced the gray skies above them. Birds and small furry creatures – chipmunks, squirrels, et cetera – were the most abundant. There was a fair amount of rats as well; in fact it seemed as though their numbers were increasing day by day. Fat ebony creepers scurrying through the underbrush, squeaking bloody murder. I blamed the recent execution of cats in the area. Medieval men believed that cats were the evil pets of witches and demons, and thus most of the neighborhood felines were long gone. I didn’t believe any of such superstitions, and the number of rats in the forest alarmed me, but my opinion mattered little to the higherups of the town. On this particular day – the date and time escape me now – I hadn’t quite made it to the woods yet. It was already late morning, and I could hear my fellow peasants accomplishing their daily labors. Annoyingly clearly, actually, because the truth was I didn’t have a home of my own. As mentioned, I did little work, and so my lord granted me no land of my own. I was a homeless wanderer. I suppose I was still expected to help out every now and then, but I rarely did. Peasant communities were loyal to both each other and their superiors, and if another serf was having difficulties with their crops or going through hardships, the other citizens assisted as much as they could. I didn’t receive so much sympathy; most tagged me as a lazy bum worthy of no such help. One might say I was a peasant even among the peasants. But then again, I was actually out living a life. Either way, I awoke and stretched and surveyed the new day ahead of me. I was just deciding whether to head directly to the forest or pinch a few fruits from the local market when a familiar voice rang in my ear. My good old friend James. Even a peasant among peasants had at least one comrade, I must admit. But even around James I couldn’t help but still feel a bit inferior. He knew I was out having fun all day, and yet he chose to work hard as a merchant. He had big dreams stretching and pulsing through his confident brain, and as far as I could tell, he was more or less on the road to snatching them once and for all. He talked of becoming wealthy and buying his freedom. I listened and only wished I possessed a similar mindset. Today he was rushing towards me briskly, as if something exciting was going on and I was late to the party. I couldn’t imagine – as implied, ‘exciting’ was not a word to describe my town. Nonetheless I forced myself into a standing position to properly greet him. He wore standard serf attire: clothes of rough wool and linen smelling of woodsmoke. I sported the same, and yet his seemed just a bit better than mine. Most peasant clothes were colored in various browns, grays, and reds. Variations were rare, but bits of blue and other unordinary colors fancied his garments here and there. His chestnut eyes sparkled with excitement. “Matthew! Fantastic news!” He said, waving his hands and arms to shape the thoughts sure to begin streaming from his mouth. “Are you even awake yet?” “A bit...” I rubbed my face. Indeed, I was still feeling a little groggy. Very unlike how a peasant should feel in the morning. “What news?” He nearly shouted, “I’m getting married!” My mouth fell, my blue eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” It was all I could imagine to say at the moment. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” I was unsure who he was thanking, but I nodded regardless. “Congratulations,” I said. “My parents arranged it. But She’s wonderful – she’s beautiful, and kind, and hard working…” “Uh, who is she?” His whole being seemed to relax when he breathed her name: “Alice. Her name is Alice.” “Alice,” I repeated. “Pretty.” “Oh, she is!” Ecstatic again. “I want you to meet her, too! And come to our wedding, of course. Of course, of course; the manor lord’s approved it, too.” “Right, right.” I was indefinitely happy for my friend, but admittedly, not as overjoyed. Instead one could almost call me confused. James and I had known each other since we were young, but we weren’t children anymore. He was growing up, he was living his life the way he had always wanted it. He was moving forward. I felt as if I was still glued to the same place I’d always been. Even so, I genuinely smiled. “I’m happy for you,” I said, finally. “Thank you, Matt. Really. I’m so happy, too. And I want you to meet her, today.” “…Right now?” “Are you ready?” I looked down at my old wooden clogs, my ragged clothes, my unwashed greasy black hair that fell over my shoulders in a wavy mess. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” “Good. Just follow me,” James tapped my shoulder and disappeared around the corner of the building I’d been sleeping on the steps of. He trusted I was quick enough to catch up, but I wobbled as I walked forward and my brain blurred my mind and vision. I felt trapped; trapped in the veins of my coursing childhood that was scarcely any different from my current life, while James raced forward into the future. I’d never much cared about money or marriage or work, as it looked to me there was little to work toward as a peasant. At least, nothing I, for one, really cared to achieve. Because freedom seemed far too unachievable to me. For once I couldn’t decide which of our lives was full of more excitement, mine or his. The thoughts left my mind quickly, however, and I soon jogged to James’s side. He walked rapidly, using long strides, even in his heavy shoes. In fact, he was so caught up in his happiness that he nearly tripped on a rat that was residing in the middle of the street. It scurried away hastily as James’s feet came in contact with its skinny pink tail. I eyed the little animal suspiciously. Sure, there were rats everywhere, and no one bothered too much with one showing up in town every now and then, and maybe I was thinking a bit too much of their gradually increasing numbers. But all the same, I always kept a close eye out for them. Sooner or later we reached Jame’s hovel, a neat little house that sat upon his farmland. He directed me to wait by the door while he went in to fetch his bridetobe. I said nothing, thought nothing. Until he brought her out. She was beautiful. The most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid eyes upon. While my bewildered eyes fed upon such allure, it felt as if my body drained of all of my problems and previous thoughts. My mind went blank, my heart pounded so furiously it felt as though it aimed to tear itself from my chest and blend with hers like two magnets meant to meet. I could hardly explain it, and for a while I admit I denied it, but soon I had no doubt I had fallen in love at first sight. I was so blinded by secret passion I didn’t even hear James introduce her or feel him pat my shoulder when I failed to shake her hand. I was only staring endlessly into those lovely butterscotch eyes – butterscotch eyes that were not, in fact, giving me the same besotted expression. As her hands touched mine I shook my conscience and saw that if anything, she appeared to be annoyed by my behavior. She frowned and muttered a small hello. All this time James went on and on about their wedding. He didn’t really notice how caught I was. “Ah, just a sec; I’ll be right back out,” he said suddenly, entering his hovel. “Got to use the restroom. In the meantime, you two get to know each other. I want you to be friends!” As the door slammed, the world seemed to fall quiet. It felt like a rock was lodged in my throat. I couldn’t think of a word to say, and she didn’t speak for a while, either. Finally I choked out, “My name’s Matthew.” “I know.” She glanced at me a bit irritably. She was already more interested in observing James’s flourishing farm than me. I felt ill, to say the least. “So… uuh…” I had to say something. Something, anything to make me look like less of an idiot. But as quickly as it had arrived, our time alone was gone, and James emerged at her side, grinning big as ever. “Sorry about that! Anyway, Matt, want to stay for a while?” He held his arm around Alice’s waist. She avoided eye contact with me. “No,” I bit my lip. “No. I have to go... I’ve got work to do. It was nice to meet you.” And so I left, too embarrassed to give lovely Alice another look.

*** Work? I scoffed as I recalled my own words. James especially knew that that was a filthy lie, but obviously he was too obsessed with his own life to notice. Not that I blamed him; of course not. If I was mad at anyone, it was myself. I wrinkled my nose at the fool I’d made of myself. I was so upset that I marched straight to the forest, gathered my sword, and set about to killing every rat that crossed my path. Each rat was a problem to me, and with just the brandish of a sword, it was slain. If only real life could be the same. As many rats as there were, they seemed to eventually catch onto what was happening and hid in the shadows. Unable to find any more to neutralize and in fact becoming quite hungry, I left my weapon behind and headed into town for the market. Though as I walked I knew food was not the only reason the market could prove a fine place for me. I admit, all I could think of was Alice. I tried to keep her out of my brain. For God sakes, I was lusting for my best friend’s soontobe wife – so many things wrong with that. And yet here I was, stalking her into town. What a horrid person I was. There weren’t many crowds huddled near the food stands that day, which would make Alice easier to spot, but more difficult for me to stay hidden. I lurked behind the few families that were there, but for a while it seemed she wasn’t here after all. I was close to giving up when my eyes caught a familiar shock of dark, chocolate brown hair. My heart surged and I snuck around to where she stood surveying a few vegetables from a stand. I pretend to have my sights on the same food and “accidentally” bump her. Perhaps a bit obvious, but my head wasn’t screwed on properly at the time, anyway. “Oh, ssorry,” I said sheepishly, “So we meet again.” She scowled a bit and returned her fruit to the stand. “Right,” she huffed, “I’m a little busy. I should go.” No, she couldn’t leave now – panicking, I grabbed the fruit and held it to her. “Did you want this?” I said shakily. “I can, uh, I can pay.” I was such an idiot – Hell no, I couldn’t pay, I was broke; she and James probably had loads more money than me. But I suddenly felt desperate. Thankfully, though she shook her head. I felt slightly less embarrassed than I would have had she agreed. “I need to get back to work,” she turned to leave. “Wait,” I sighed. What did I think I was doing? “Do you need help with work? With anything?” At this she whipped around and through clenched teeth said, “Look, I don’t see what you’re trying to do here.. Do you always act like a jittery fool?” I opened my mouth as if to say something, but no words escaped. She continued, “Don’t you have work of your own to do?” With that she decided she had finally had enough, and I watched her strut out of sight while I stood feeling worse and worse with every passing second. Well, I’d just proved to myself I was even worse with women than I’d anticipated, or at least with unattainable women. The Gods were probably trying to tell me something. But at that thought, I realized that only made me want her more.

Later that day I met James at his hovel and struck up a conversation while he worked a part of his farmland. I felt dismayed, but not yet discouraged. Some fire burning deep inside me crackled still for Alice, no matter the situation. And it would take many buckets of water to put it out now. I only halflistened as James rambled on and on about his wedding, though every time her name flowed into my ears a chill ran through my body. Finally I cleared my mind and asked how Alice happened to be doing. “Oh, she’s great!” James exclaimed, ripping a carrot from the soil with just as much enthusiasm. “Fantastic. I think she’s excited, too. No, what am I – of course she’s excited!...” From there he lost me. I felt nervous, and besides that, I was becoming sick of hearing him say the same things endlessly. While he was still in the middle of talking I said, “This may seem sort of random, but have you noticed how many rats there are lately?” James stopped, gave me an inquisitive glance, and laughed. “Rats? You’re worrying about rats?”

Eliza Knowles

New Rules The wind blew loose tendrils of chestnut hair out of my face as I walked down the busy road. Once again Mother had sent me out of the house to go find whatever it was she wanted. I looked down at the note in my hand, “Ribbons, darling. I need a new ribbon for my bonnet.” Then with a flourish she had signed it with her flowery, conceited initialing. Ribbons. That’s what it was this time. Sometimes it was ribbons or flowers, and other times it was a pair of silken gloves or a new perfume that had just come in. However, frequently, it wasn’t for anything at all, she just wanted someone to be “there” snooping so that she could have ‘quality’ gossip. But it’s been a while since I have had to play eavesdropper, mainly because I don’t pick up bits of info that she deems important. In her opinion, I am unobservant. Actually, there is some truth to that statement. When it comes to dresses and who said what and the newest fashions in Paris, yes, I have to admit, I am unobservant. But when it comes to other things, I can’t but help noticing even the little most unimportant details. Like now, I can look around and see everything. I can see the carpetbaggers, businessmen and farmers all strutting down the street. Everywhere is movement, constant movement. The town reminds me of a giant anthill. It never seems to hold still, with all the ants going this way and that. The street is full of all sorts of different wagons and horses and carriages and… and Boomer? My eyes refocused on the big black man standing on the other side of the street. I could have recognized that face anywhere, the flat nose, those big eyes, the full lips, and most particularly, the long pink jagged scar running across his jaw that had been there since before we owned him. He stood there looking unchanged from the last time I saw him. People seemed to flow around him, his sheer size diverting the little ants of our town. He was always one of our biggest slaves; every inch of him was massive, muscled and sinewy. “Boomer!!” I called out to him, waving furiously, “Boomer! Boomer!” He searched every face for the one calling out to him. When his eyes landed on mine, his mouth spread into a slow wide smile that went straight into his eyes. “Why if it ain’t little Miss Caroline. Whatch you doin in town, right now?” His slow, thick, illiterate drawl always seemed to honey out of his mouth. “Well, Mama sent me to get some ribbons. Would you like to accompany me?” I looked up eagerly into his face, and oh, I realized with a pang, had I missed it. He froze. Yes, he was glad to see me, I was sure of that. But he seemed to hesitate at this invitation. He surveyed the street before responding, pausing at something behind me. “Miss Caroline, I don’t think that’s mighty wise idea. You see…well, umm, I just don’t think...” he stumbled. Once again, his eyes were on something or someone behind me. “Oh don’t worry, Boomer.” I said as I took his arm, almost confidently. But I looked behind me all the same. No one was paying attention to us, so I decided not to worry about it. I didn’t want to be affected by what he was saying, because frankly, his nervousness didn’t make sense. “What do you have to worry about, that your girlfriend will get jealous?” I laughed then, but even to my ears it sounded forced. What was wrong? I looked over my shoulder again. “M’ kay, Miss Caroline. But jus for a secont.” He began to walk, but he continued to look over his shoulder. “So, uhh, how are you? How have you been doing? Where you been since… uh... since you know…” I looked up at his face for reassurance, but his expression caught me off guard. His face was a mask of panic. “Miss Caroline,” he whispered intensely, “run away. Back to yous house, fast as your pertty little legs can carry you. Lock the door and stay there. If anyone asks, you don’t know me. Jus get out o’ here. This here ain’t somethin’ for a lady.” “But, but… but, Boomer?” I stuttered, comprehension escaping me, freezing my mind. “What? Why? I don’t understand. You don’t… I don’t…” “Why hello there, what have we got here?” A slippery voice entered the conversation. I spun around to connect the voice with a face. What I saw was undecidedly handsome, but the look in the icy blue eyes sent shivers down my spine. His blonde hair tinted as the sun shone on it, and complimented the deep tan of his skin. “Mmmm?” He asked again. Impatient he was. “I’m a jus escorting me ol’ misses home Samuel. Don’chu worry ‘bout nothin’,” Boomer spoke in a hard voice that I had never heard before. His grip on my arm had become vice like. I knew without question that this was who Boomer had been nervous about running into. “Oh we are in no hurry to take off, Boomer. There’s no problem in sticking around. Surely you know that,” said the blonde man menacingly, with his eyes narrowing. As the words registered into my brain, I understood the emotion; Blondie there was threatening my Boomer. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I knew he meant harm. “Excuse me.” I said sweetly, honeying up my words for the sake of, well… I wasn’t sure yet. I took a deep breath, “I don’t believe I have ever met you.” I batted my eyelashes a couple times for good measure. “I am Caroline Patterson, and this is, well I think you and Boomer have met, yes?” I stepped forward; well at least I tried to step forward, but for some reason Boomer held the vice like grip on my arm without faltering. Blondie looked me up and down, and finished with a terrible smile. “No doll, I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting, or else I’m sure I would have remembered it.” He winked. He began to take a couple steps forward. “Samuel Snyder’s the name,” he said, taking a few more step near us. He took a breath prepping for his next line when suddenly another new voice entered our conversation. “Samuel! Samuel my boy, there you are! I haven been looking everywhere for you. I have something I want you and your friends to take care of for me, you see… Oh.” The man trailed off, obviously just now noticing the tense positions everyone was holding. Blondie filled in the awkward silence. “Ah, Minister. It’s good to see you. I will meet you back at your office in just a bit?” Blondie replied to the man a little tensely, as if trying to relate an underlying message. Then it clicked. I knew him; this guy was the preacher at the protestant church. He wouldn’t be a lot of help. The minister looked at us with a nonchalant glace. “Nah, you can come with me now. We can discuss ‘this’ there as well.” He waved a hand between all of us to illustrate his words. Reluctantly, Blondie followed like an obedient little puppy. But before he left he spun around and practically bored holes into Boomer’s eyes. “I will see you later. You can count on it.” He said ominously. He glanced at me once then turned and strutted after the minister. I watched them slink down the street and didn’t say anything until the church door was safely shut behind them. I looked up at Boomer and let out a shaky breath. “Why don’t we just go home now? The ribbons can wait.” He just nodded and readjusted his grip on my arm, and together we walked home, just like old times. But I realized that this time, there were new rules to our friendship. Because now, we were no longer kids playing a game, this was real life.

Nikki Le A Mother’s Thoughts Dennis’s room was very bland for a little toddler. The pasty white walls had paint cracking off; the yellow paint underneath the white paint was starting to show. Dennis didn’t realize this though; he didn’t focus on the little details. The small twin sized bed reminded Catherine that her and her son were just getting by, middle class. Not good, not bad. Her son and she sat in the corner of his bed with their backs grinding against the wall. It was uncomfortable position for both of them but as long as Catherine could feel her little boy in her arms she was content. Catherine peered out the window that was located on the other side of the room and saw the nice day that the summer of 1940 brought along. “Why do you look so sad Mommy?” Dennis asked. “There’s no reason to worry about me, go to sleep sweetie,” Catherine ordered. There was no reason for Dennis to know what was going on in her love life. She spoke quietly to herself after Dennis had fallen silently asleep. As Catherine was having her own monologue, Dennis quickly whispered his father’s name like he always did when he snoozed. As Catherine heard his name she felt trapped, suffocated, crammed, and she froze up inside. She had to get out. Sitting in his room was as if she was being locked up, the exact opposite of what she deeply desired. As she laid her hands across the sheets of Dennis’s bed she could feel how worn out they were and the smell slowly but surely came in her direction, a stingy old mothlike stench. The bed Dennis had been sleeping for the past 5 years of his life was no good anymore. She wondered when the last time she bought him bed linens was. Catherine browsed around the pale room with her blue ocean colored eyes and couldn’t see a trace of Dennis’s personality present except for a tiny stuffed elephant discarded to the corner of the room. How could she have not noticed this before? “You’re a good mom, don’t cha think? There could never be another mother like you.” Dennis asked as he awake a few minutes later. “Yes, I would sure hope so.” “It’s very nice outside, don’t you think me and you can go outside and play? I can see the birds flying outside and I want to catch them for once!” Dennis suggested. He stayed quiet as his mother pondered the idea. Eventually she responded slowly, “No, I don’t think we can today. There are too many things that I need to do. Also you haven’t sleep well lately, you need rest.” As if right on cue, Dennis pretended to fall asleep letting his mother feel like she was doing something right. Catherine immersed herself back in her thoughts again. She felt selfish but she went back to thinking about her own life and her own problems. Even though it was sunny and warm outside she was dark, conflicted, and lost on the inside. “Why wont you tell me what’s the matter?” Denise popped out blowing his cover. “Because I love you too much and wouldn’t want you to worry, I promise I will tell you later.” “That’s no answer! Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to!” “No, it’s not your fault. You never do anything wrong, you are my perfect son.” Dennis thought that was an odd response but he blew it off. He still hadn’t gotten his answer and he was musing over the thought that he still had something to do with her unhappiness. How was Catherine ever going to tell Dennis about her love affairs? There was no easy way to explain to Dennis. “Honey, just sleep, I want you to be rested for tomorrow” “Not yet, I want to know what’s wrong with you.” “Daddy and I are having problems, nothing to concern yourself with. Sometimes adults have these problems. It’s normal. Your dad and I will work it out, we always do.” Since Dennis had such a persistent personality he didn’t let this one go. He poked his mother with his stubby little fingers trying but not succeeding to get an answer out of her. “I’ll tell you later” “Why not now? I don’t want to wait until later; I want to fix this problem. I want daddy to come home! I want everything to be like before, when you, daddy, and I were all together. I want daddy back!” Catherine was caught off guard with Dennis’s sudden burst of emotion; he had never shown that he wanted his father back so badly. Due to his sudden outburst, Catherine was forced to get up from the bed and try to calm him down. Why hadn’t she paid attention to him? She was feeling like a horrible mother for not noticing her son more, she looked down and noticed his elbow was slightly bruised and scratched up. “What happened to your elbow?” “Mother, it’s not important. I want to know when daddy is coming home.” She had never heard her son spoke so profoundly; it saddened her that she wasn’t seeing these changes in her son lately. They sat on Dennis’s bed soaking up the silence and not exactly sure what to say next, so they just kept in silence for another few minutes so involved with their own thoughts. If an outsider were looking in to Dennis’s small sized room, they would have looked like the perfect mother and son pair. Both so calm and collected on their exterior that one wouldn’t know that they were fighting a battle internally about the same person. “Let’s go out and play now, huh? Like you said it’s a perfect day and we should go and try to catch some birds!” She proposed with a fake cheerfulness anyone but her little clueless son could detect.

Cam McMahon Wrench “Here” I looked up from the ground to see the advisor or “work enforcer” staring at me, in his hand he was holding a wrench. He pointed to the machine on the left and I knew what I had to do, I still didn’t know the names of the machines, I called this one “steel cutter” which sounded right to me. He dropped the wrench into my hand and I could now feel the full weight of it as almost dropped to the floor. I looked at the wrench and noticed the letters on the side of it; I still don’t know what it says though. Like everything else in Pittsburgh it was covered in smoke, silt and grime. The factory like Pittsburgh smelt like blazing metal and of burning coal. It was like a large dark room with little light where everyone’s faces had a thick layer of smog. One of the adult workers once told of when the giant steel factories weren’t here and that the town was beautiful. I still don’t know what beautiful is; the factories we work is like a monsters, breathing smoke and fire, roaring allday and night. But after awhile you begin to live with the city. My advisor once again looked down at me, seeing me in a haze he shoved me forward with his clipboard. My head sunk and I stared at my gloves, they were old leather and covered most of my forearm. My fingers could barely hold the wrench with the large gloves, like everything I had owned they were too large for me. My “white” tshirt would reach me knees if I didn’t tuck it into my overalls; there were tears and rips everywhere. I didn’t know what my hat was, a conductor had, a caddy hat, it was the only thing I had that fit well. I had lines under my eyes; my pale face had a lair of smoke covering it. I was about 5 foot which was tall enough and small enough for me to work inside that the steel cutter. I didn’t want to start my work, I looked up at the machine covered in smoke black paint, I described it as a monster, everything was a monster here, and it rose from the concrete floor and looked like it was towering over me. Even though it had been stopped it still screeched and moaned. Off to the side was a hole just wide enough for me to fit in. I walked over trying not to look up at the machine now, which seemed to be growing taller and taller. When I looked back my advisor was looking at me. He had a thick five o’clock shadow, his brown hair was slightly balding, and he wore a striped shirt tucked into his slacks. Everyone else hated but I but just think that he has to be to keep everything in order. I took a deep breath held my head up and in a burst I jumped in, the hole was a little of the ground and kept going up as I climbed inside. The moment I had left the daylight and jumped in, I had found myself in a world of smog. The place was black, I had to try and let my eyes adjust to the ever dimming light. It felt like a nightmare which I couldn’t escape. As I made my way through the machine I didn’t forget to drag the wrench, if I let it get out of my sight I knew I would lose it. I couldn’t take any chances. As I crawled through I saw them, the giant blades rising from floor over the steel, they would cut them with ease if or even me if someone had turned the machine on. That was always my greatest fear that I would be forgotten and the machine would start up with me inside. I tried to forget about the blades and continued on through the smoke. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the blades and having the machine turn on I wasn’t paying attention when I realized, I was stuck. I was in the dark, sitting alone inside of machine which I was already scared of. It started to set in, I curled up, hoping everything would just go away, the wrench which before I had hated, was now the closest thing to me. At this time I wish I was home, even though it wasn’t the best home it was all mine. It was on the southern side of the dump, made of cardboard and everything I could find, it fit me. No one would find my house, no one. The smoke was settling around me, I looked up, whatever I was doing wasn’t going to help; I didn’t know what to do so I just started crawling through. I just crawled with the wrench. The smoke had taken my fear; I didn’t want to end up like all the adults did at the factories, mindless men the walk about all day as to have no emotion. But it’s the only way you can make it through the factory. I crawled until I heard a high pitch noise, it lightened my spirits just enough for me to be able to try and find it. I was now in the center of the machine, my only point of light, it was a small area that had no ceiling, the pipes were ten feet above me, built they didn’t block out all of the light. It was a center area to let in air to cool the machine, and half way up I could see my only task. Only one loose bolt, I stared at it for some time just puzzled of how that one bolt could stop this entire machine. I had been here before I knew how to get there; it took time to screw it back in but worth it. I was so excited from finishing I almost left the wrench behind; I crawled through with such joy I smiled. I could see through the machine now and knew which way to go. I saw the exit, and my sanity was back. I threw the wrench out of the machine and heard it clang on the ground. I had poked my head out my advisor was still there, I sigh of relief had run through me. It felt like weights had been lifted off my shoulders and now I could rest. I stepped out coughing and staring at my advisor, I raised my head with a sense of pride now I waited for the one thing I felt I deserved, a simple thank you, anything to show I had done my job. As he looked at me and sharply said, “What are you going to do cry, get back to work.” I went blank, I deserved something, I did my job and finished on time, but I remembered I was only a steel worker.

Tian Tian Metzgar

A la Carte

Crystal chandeliers sparkled in the dimly lit room casting rainbows onto every wall. The smell of the sea was overpowering, while the sun sank lower and lower into the vast ocean. Colors of red, orange, yellow, purple, and blue filled the sky, which went on for miles. The A la Carte restaurant was reserved for the wealthiest aboard the RMS Olympic. My younger sister, Rheanna and I sat across from our parents who were busy chatting away with other snobs. Rheanna is a young thirteen year old who resembled me fairly well, we share the same features. Long flowing chocolate brown hair, big blue eyes, covered beneath long eyelashes, and a small frame. People often mistake us to be a couple years older than our actual age. Rheanna is my best friend. we aren’t simply sisters, but actual friends. I tell her everything, we often look shy and innocent around others, but when together alone we can be loud and outgoing. “Elizabeth, look,” whispered Rheanna. “Look where? What?,” I whispered back. “Over there!” I had no idea what she was saying or pointing out nonchalantly under the table, until I finally saw a young man. “Is that boy who you’re pointing at?” I muttered. “Well yes! Look at him!” Rheanna whisper screamed. I thoroughly understood why she was pointing him out, he was probably the most handsome young man anyone could’ve imagined. He looked about seventeen years in age, with dark brown eyes, and brown hair to match. He was an average height maybe around 5’9”ish? He was sitting by two families, one being his own, both looked like they came from substantial money. I quickly turned my head when I noticed his brown eyes glancing at me. Rheanna rolled her eyes and smiled at me. “Oh, hush,” I said jokingly. “He’s been glancing at you every so often for the whole of dinner. Have you seriously not noticed?! Rheanna exclaimed, her wide eyes staring at me. “How could you have not noticed?! That would be almost impossible!” “No, I actually haven’t. I’ve been paying attention to mother’s conversation. Well, sort of… Oh, hush.” She seemed to be in astonishment over my obliviousness, astonishment had soon turned into the typical “You’re an idiot, in a loving way” look. Now, for the rest of dinner his occasional glances did not go unnoticed. I wished I knew his name; there was something about him. My sister often pointed out attractive guys, though none have been like him, he looked charming, and gentle. My mother’s voice suddenly brought me back from my dreamland. “Elizabeth,” “Yes, mother?” I said. She just glanced away from me, I had no idea what that was about, but I thought it best to let it go. “What was that about?” Rheanna asked. “I have absolutely no idea…” I said. “Should I be concerned? Do you think she noticed the boy glancing at me, or something?” “No, I don’t think you should fret over it much, though, it was a little bit odd.” My parents were now talking to Sylvia and James about how grand the Olympic was. This soon turned into some other nonsensical talk. Rheanna quietly nudged me and motioned with her eyes towards where the boy was sitting. I looked over and he quickly glanced away. Rheanna had then slapped me on the arm. “Ow! What was that for?!” I said, annoyed. My father cleared his voice and glared at Rheanna and I. “Sorry…” Sylvia and James excused themselves going back to their suites, which were less magnificent than our own. “We better head off as well, come on children,” my mother said. “Yes, mother,” I responded. Typical goodbyes were said and we were about ready to head back to our suite. Rheanna finished explaining what the interruptive slap was for. “I didn’t mean for you to fully look!” she said. “Then what was I supposed to do?!” I said “I dunno… glance?” I made the mistake of “glancing” over once again, just to get a last good look. I slowly started walking over to him unknowingly, when my mother’s arm grasped mine with unusual force. She wasn’t one to be physically aggressive, though she didn’t always show a huge amount of love towards my sister and I. “Lets go Elizabeth. Now ,” My mother said. Rheanna glanced at me with question on her face. We had absolutely no idea what that had been about, either time. Our parents always walked fast leaving us a little time to talk before exiting the restaurant completely. “Maybe it has something to do with that gentlemen?” Rheanna questioned. “I mean think about it, both of the times mother acted up was when you were looking at him.” “Yeah, but she and father don’t even know him, do they?” I said. “How could they, it’s not like we’ve been on the Olympic before.” “I don’t know, maybe they’ve met somehow, and she doesn’t care for him?” “Who knows, it’s mother. We’ll find out in time, I have to meet him, the moment I saw him I was attracted to him.” I state. “The way his dark brown hair frames his face, and the passion and sensitivity in his eyes, he’s different, I will meet him.” “Alright, now aren’t you glad I pointed him out?” “Yes, Rheanna,” I say, hating to admit anything. The next thing I knew we were out on the deck.

Liam O’Neill The Final Stand The Thermopylae Pass stood towering above the field on both of its sides. Trees and boulders were scattered around, providing limited cover. A sky that was slowly turning crimson red, with shades of orange, pink, and yellow lay like a blanket over the mountains. Sounds of the massive Persian army marching could be heard far off in the distance. In the middle of all of it were the loyal 300 men, who were willing to die to protect their country. Except they weren’t standing, waiting for the battle. They weren’t saying any last words, or dreading about what was going to happen. Instead, they were sprawled out across the rocks and the ground, laughing. “Hey now! Who’s ready to kill some Persians?” Balthazar shouted. Balthazar was now a fullgrown man, tall and muscular with short, dark hair. The army had always been trained as a unit but he had stood out from the rest as a leader. “My goal for tonight is, oh I don’t know… a thousand maybe?” Exclaimed Thaddeus with a smirk on his face. Thaddeus was Balthazar’s older brother by one year. The two had always been close, forming an unbreakable bond they had formed. Thaddeus was also tall and strong, except his hair was lighter and longer. Not to long though, because as a Spartan, short hair was required. Also, he was more of a joker. Even during times when they had to endure brutal training in the barracks, which now seemed so long ago, Thaddeus would crack jokes to keep everyone as light spirited as possible. He continued, “Now who thinks they can beat that?” With a cocky expression on his face. “A thousand!? You’re only capable of killing one thousand pathetic, weak, no good Persians? I set my goal at 3,500!” Shouted Obelix, who was a giant compared to most men. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, with the shoulders as wide as a mule. A normal spear looked like a small stick in his hand, and he had to have a shield built just for his size. He might as well just punch somebody and knock their head off. Now all of the other warriors became ecstatic and started yelling out ridiculously high numbers, laughing and punching each other on the shoulder. To a spectator, it might have seemed like a bunch of drunk men trying to count from one to ten. “5,000!” Screamed one. “10,000!” Screamed another. It seemed as if nobody even noticed the Persians’ feet thumping getting louder by the second, even though deep down, they were all dreading the sound. The fact that the opposing army outnumbered them by dozens to every one didn’t seem to faze them, even though truthfully, they were all terrified and intimidated. They didn’t care that they were most likely all going to die that night, because the moment that was coming was what they had dedicated their entire lives to. 13 years spent in the barracks, out in the wilderness, fighting for their own lives. 13 years spent to be mean, lean killing machines, which had taken a toll on each one of them. They had lost all feelings about death and pain, knowing that any day could be their last. To other countries, Spartans were a bunch of ruthless brutes capable of mass slaughters and pillages. But still, all the men standing there were like brothers to every other, and that’s what gave them the strength and courage to fight against insurmountable odds. They were fighting to protect their family and country. This is what they had developed feelings for during their training. “Does anyone hear that? I Think that I hear a couple of mice far in the distance,” exclaimed Obelix, holding his hand to his ear. “No you idiot. That’s the men were about to kill trying to tip toe up on us. Trying to get a little sneaky,” Thaddeus said. This brought up laughter from the whole crowd. “And they should be! Because they should know that when you try to kill one Spartan, you’re trying to kill a whole bunch of crazy men born and raised to slaughter every excuse for a soldier that tries to question their authority!” “Who the hell are the Persians to think that they can walk over us like we’re nothing anyways?! I hope they like how my shield tastes!” Yelled Klaus, who was Balthazar’s advisor during his early years in the barracks. Still not the nicest guy in the world, but definitely one you would want on your side in a battle. This brought a shout, “For Sparta!” by all the men, banging their shields and swords together, waving their spears in the air. After the various speeches, Thaddeus took Balthazar to the side. “Balthazar. I will be at your side at all times,” Exclaimed Thaddeus, with a suddenly more serious look. “We’re family. We look out for each other.” “Your right, and it would be a pleasurable experience to fight again, one last time, side by side with the one who is more important to me then anyone in this world.” Balthazar said back. “I sure as hell know that you are the best fighter here. So I might as well tag along with you,” exclaimed Thaddeus, followed with a laugh. “If you ever need my help, yell to me okay?” Balthazar asked. “I mean it. I will sacrifice my own life to save yours.” “As I would do for you, on any given day.” Then, Thaddeus took one look at Balthazar and, grabbing his hand in his own, spoke the words that Balthazar had been living for his entire life. The words that had given him the drive to strive for excellence and rise to the role of a leader of the army. “Let’s do this for our father.” They then turned back around, and returned to the rest of the men to prepare for the devastation soon to come.

Carter Osborne Cooling Fire I suppose the hotel room was nice enough for the Olympics. It had two nice, comfy beds that Glenn and I sat on at the moment. Both the ceiling and the walls were painted a darkish yellow color, not the best choice in my opinion but I guess it’s okay. I could smell the warm sent of pastries from the plate of them that Glenn was eating drifting through the room. I was about to ask for one when I reminded myself that I had already had two. He may be my best friend but even best friends have their limits to generosity. Through the open window you could hear the people on the streetlight lit sidewalk below talking, laughing, yelling. The city was just so alive and excited with the energy caused by the Olympic games. I mean, I thought America was an energetic place but I think it’s safe to say that Berlin takes the cake on this one. Even in the ‘30s during Nazi rule people still found energy enough to make this city vibrant. We were talking about the race coming up tomorrow, the big one, the race of our lives, the race to end them all. Well, maybe that’s a little overstated, but you get the point. Needless to say we were both nervous out of our minds about it, you don’t get to run in the Olympics everyday. We continued to talk and talk about how the race will go and the competitors we were facing when Glenn brought up the subject of how we got here, from the beginning. The very beginning. “Really Glenn, you’re gonna bring that up?” I asked, trying to make it obvious that I was annoyed with the direction the conversation was going. “Hey, we both went through it man. I’m just reminding you. I’m not trying to be mean or anything, I’m trying to encourage you for the race tomorrow,” He responded. “Well you’re not doing a very good job of it. Talking about that just brings back such horrible memories. You know that as well as I do. How can you talk about that without feeling any pain all over again?” “I can talk about it because I don’t obsess over it and compare it to everything that happens in my life. Sure I have feelings and memories about it, to this day I won’t go near a fire, but that doesn’t mean I’m scared of it anymore. It happened, it’s over, we recovered, that’s all there is to it Will.” I could see that Glenn was actually trying to encourage me, and despite the fact that it was having the opposite effect I was rather thankful, but he needed to stop talking. Images of our high school in flames were not what I wanted on this trip. “I get that Glenn but I still don’t like talking about it, it just makes me so depressed every time I think about the pain and helplessness I felt being trapped inside that burning building. We could have easily been killed you know.” I told him. I just wanted to get off this topic, yet at the same time I didn’t. This was one of the only times in almost 10 years that I had even stayed in the same room as someone talking about the fire, only a few times since 1925 when it happened. This time was different though since Glenn had been in that school too. In fact he got stuck in there while it was burning just as I had and had suffered similar injuries from it. It made talking to him about this a little bit easier and manageable. Although that’s not to say that it was easy. “I know we could have been killed but the fact is we weren’t. In fact I don’t think either of us would be here today if it hadn’t happened. You have to admit, getting injured so badly is what made you strive to be who you are today right?” Glenn said “I guess so,” I sighed reluctantly. I hate it when he’s right. I know that’s a little selfish to say but I still don’t like it. So now was the awkward moment when neither of us had anything left to say. I’m usually very talkative but thinking of th fire got me so distracted that I just wasn’t focused on talking. I ended up getting completely absorbed in this and only came back to reality when Glenn asked, “Will? Will you alright?” He was obviously concerned for me. There was a long pause before I answered. I was trying to get all the words straight. I had reached that point where I just wanted to be alone, you know? I just wanted him to get up and leave me in peace to think about his. “No, no I’m not alright Glenn. I mean, I know that it may have had some benefits and I know that it’s not as huge a deal as I’m making it but I just can’t get over it okay? I can’t get rid of the memories and I can’t overcome them no matter how hard I try, get it!” I saw Glenn reel a little. I don’t think he expected me to get so angry at him. “You know what Will? I do get it. I get it just fine.” “Good!” There was a short pause before Glenn asked, “Just answer me one question Will, one question then I’ll let you go. How the hell did you get to where you are today? How did you manage to make a successful athlete out of someone as pathetic and pitiful as you? How in the world did someone who gives up as easily as you become anybody? Just tell me will, how?” “I, I just, I” “That’s exactly it Will. You’ve never given up before in your life, I know you. There’s no way you got here by taking the easy road. You’ve spent your whole life trying to get to where you are now and look at you? What are you doing Will? You should despise quitting. I know the memories hurt but you can’t just sit here and sulk, you have to do something about them, you can’t just give up now.” Those words hit harder than you can possibly imagine. I sat for seconds that seemed like hours thinking about what he just said and I realized that he was, yet again, right. I had to accept what happened and get over it. It was the best thing to do. “You know, thanks Glenn. I couldn’t have asked for better advice” “Hey, that’s what friends are for right?” And now the strangest feeling came over me. It was a feeling of almost, peace. A calming, graceful feeling. And it felt wonderful.

Ysabel Sandoval

A Supportive Grandmother Plop. Plop. Clear drops hit the light brown paper, and soaked through, leaving small dark spots on the apples she created, long ago. As teardrops darkened almost all of the apples, Giovanna heard a sigh. She looked up from the picture, and with eyes the color of a blooming cherry blossom, stared innocently at her grandmother, who stood at the doorway. There was never a door, nothing to create some privacy. Her grandmother floundered across the tiles of the floor, covered in rushes, a mixture of hay, flowers, and herbs to help conceal the malodors. The smell of a rainforest, so full of nature, and earth, flowed around the room. She sat next to Giovanna, on the small, soft bed, shared among the entire family. Then, her grandmother swept her hand across the thin, wool blankets that coated the bed. Her eyes shifted from the blankets to the picture of the apples, and slid it from Giovanna’s rough hands. She broke into a grin. “Hmm, I remember the day you drew this. The sun was shining down, on us, and the great, Michelangelo’s masterpiece of the Bacchus was revealed,” her grandmother said. Her grandmother gazed above her, towards the low ceiling, which was thatched. “Oh, you as a little girl, were so amazed at Michelangelo’s magnificent masterpiece. That’s when you first said you wanted to become just like him.” Her grandmother raised the book to her chest, with the side of the picture facing Giovanna. “And so, I presented to you this book, to pour your skills and love for art in.” She laughed a little, at the memory she remembered. “You were overjoyed, and uncontrollably scribbled many apples because it was your favorite food, although, we couldn’t afford to but many of them.” Giovanna cracked a smile through her tears. With crinkly fingers, her grandmother stroked through Giovanna’s long, dark hair, from the roots, all the way to her smooth, curly ends. Giovanna pinched a thick strand, and tucked it behind one of her ears. Why couldn’t her mother understand her the way her grandmother did? It would, surely, make her life much easier. “You know, Giovanna, Michelangelo is a bit of a mad man, and is obsessed with his reputation,” said her grandmother. “Well, he’s still an art master,” said Giovanna. She didn’t care if he was mental. All she cared about was his art skills. Giovanna wanted his skills, not his personality. As her grandmother continued to comb her fingers through her hair, Giovanna stared through the square hole in the wall made of stones. She could see trees, and dead, driedout flowers. She wasn’t even sure what kind of flowers they used to be. She felt wind rush past her body, causing her to shiver, and blink, multiple times. She looked at her dear, grandmother. “That day,” Giovanna whispered. “When I said I wanted to become an artist, Mother was fine with it; but now, she gets furious every time I mention the word.” “Well,” Her grandmother sighed, and rested her right hand on Giovanna’s knee. “Back then, you were still very small. Today, you are thirteen years old, an adult, but not fully grown, until you’re married. It is more serious now.” Since her family didn’t have a son, only six daughters, and their father was dead, they had no male workers. As the second eldest daughter in the family, Giovanna realized that she might as well work at the Bakery Shop, while they still owned it. Surely, her four younger sisters were too ignorant to run the shop. They could help her or work at home when they turned eight years old. It would take a miracle for her to be the artist she dreamt of becoming. As the two of them, grandmother and granddaughter, sat in silence, there was a voice at the front door. It was easy to hear, in their small cottage. “Caterina! Hello!” It was the loud voice of their fifteenyearold cousin, Niccolo. He was an outgoing, noisy, young man, who enjoyed teasing his cousins. He lived in the town with his mother and father in a small cottage, as well. “She’s in there,” Giovanna heard her sister, Caterina, say. Giovanna tugged on the brown handkerchief tied around her neck and quickly rubbed her eyes and nose, leaving them a light shade of red, although, darker than before. Niccolo stepped in the room. He stood about five feet and seven inches tall, and his curly, brown hair laid on his squareshaped shoulders. “Little cousin!” His bright, blue eyes screamed with energy and excitement. As Giovanna’s grandmother stood up, she smiled, and said, “I’ll just leave the two of you alone,” and walked off. “Niccolo, how are you? What are you doing here?” Giovanna asked. Too eager, to realize her red nose and eyes, he said, “Did you hear that Michelangelo is beginning to create a new art piece? All I know is that it’s going to be about the Virgin Mary, and her son, Jesus!” The news hit her. It was like saying that she would receive a whole basket of apples, just for her. She forgot all about the crying, and pain she felt, just a moment ago. “Really? That’s wonderful! When did he begin making it? I wonder if he could let us watch him create it! That would be unbelievable! He could, maybe, teach me a few things. He is an amazing artist!” Giovanna eyes widened, and her hands and thoughts were flying all over the room. “I wonder what type of art it is, if it is a drawing, a painting, oh! Or even a sculpture, like his Bacchus sculpture! That was a beautiful work of art! I cannot wait to see this next masterpiece when it is all finished!” As soon as Giovanna realized what she was talking about, she quickly brought herself back down, to earth, knowing that her desires would never be a possibility. Noticing Giovanna’s sudden change in behavior, Niccolo’s smile faded, and he began to whisper, “Giovanna? We could, maybe, see the project together, when it is finished. Giovanna?” Giovanna looked up at him, and back to her feet. “Um, no. No, mother would never allow me to go,” she said. She laughed a little, to hide the pain she was feeling inside. “Oh, well then, I’ll see you in the morning,” said Niccolo. He rested his right hand on her shoulder, then, slid it off, as he walked out of the room, leaving Giovanna all alone.

Sarah Semon

Arranged

The small schoolhouse lies in the center of my village. Every child that has grown up in this area has spent hours on end in the same small building, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. Everyday I walk through the streets, to the school to pick up my younger brother, my parents don’t trust him out by himself, he’s still very young. It’s a little break in my day that I can always look forward to. Most days nothing exciting ever happens, but I don’t mind. The day is dry and hot, so hot that children and older folk are advised to limit their time outside. The ground is so dry there are cracks beginning to form in the dirt from the lack of moisture. I feel the heat radiating through my reedsandals, and beads of sweat slowly forming, and dripping down the back of my neck. I smell repulsive; not bathing for days is a bad idea with heat like this. I arrive at my brother’s school; I see the usual parents and older siblings there to pick up young children. I spot Shiloh; he lives down the road from my family, and a few other familiar faces. Peaking through the crowd, I notice an unfamiliar face, he looks to be a few years older than me, tall and muscular. This boys hair, is long and curly, consisting of gold shimmery highlights when the sun hits it just right. Suddenly I feel connected with him, we make eye contact, and he starts to walk towards me. I wonder if he’ll say something, I wonder what he’ll do. Thoughts are crashing through my mind like a tidal wave, crashing against a giant rock. Finally I gather up all my fear and pull myself together. “Hi I’m Hassan” he says reaching out his hand “Oh hey there, I’m Esther” my voice cracked a little, my heart is pounding, I’ve never felt this way before, what’s happening? “My family just moved here, we used to live in a town a few miles down the Nile” he says obviously trying to start a good conversation. “Oh really? That’s exciting, who are you picking up here?” I start to calm down, I just met this gy and I am already so interested in him. “My younger sister, she’s in her 6 th year of school, who are you picking up?” “ Oh just my brother, he’s in his 6 th year too! So, Hassan, how old are you?” “I just turned 17.” He said this while casually scratching his head. I now have the sudden urge just to run my fingers through his hair; it looks so soft and inviting. From a distance I hear shrills of children’s laughter; school must have gotten let out. Hassan and I stand and wait for our siblings to come out, first I see a young girl, who must be Hassan’s sister she runs up to him and gives him a big hug, I smile. Then I see Assum coming out of the building trailing behind the girl. “Well Esther, is was nice talking to you, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Oh sure!” I reply, excited that he actually wants to see me again. We both start walking away with our younger siblings in tow, and realize that we are walking the same rout home. We look towards each other and laugh. I think Hassan is starting to realize that I’m starting to form some sort of feelings towards him. I can’t tell how he’s taking it, but it seems like he’s pulling away from me. “So how long have you lived here for?” I asked. “Just 5 nights ago we moved in to our house, it’s a good change.” Hassan said, with a real sign of relief. “Well, is that why you moved?” I asked again, getting more and more comfortable around Hassan, I have a feeling that this friendship will be long lasting. “Well…” oh no, he’s hesitant. “We moved here because our mother and father have arranged for Hassan to get married in a couple of months, to a daughter of a family friend.” His younger, petite sister blurts out before Hassan could give me his less detailed answer. “Oh, well that’s nice.” I say, I can’t believe it, I just met this boy, and I felt so much chemistry between us, and now it will never happen. Egyptian girls are expected to marry young, a few years before they turn 20 years of age. My parents decided to let me have the freedom to chose whoever I want to be my partner for life, but some other parents like Hassans decide that they want to pick and chose who their child is set to be with. I think Hassan can tell that I’m a little crushed, but I still try to smile anyways. “I’ve never met her before, I don’t even know what she looks like.” Hassan mumbles, he seems like he’s not very excited being forced into this, he shuffles his feet on the dry ground, dust clouds form all around us.

We start walking down a narrow road which leads to our home. The walk from the school to our house is short, less than 5 minutes, an easy walk compared to the one to the market. Things seem awkward betweens us, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to act. The four of us start walking futher and further apart until we get to a cute, small house, it looks old, and worn, it looks filled with memories of the past owners, I can see a short, tan woman inside, talking to a very tall, darker skinned man. These people must be Hassans parents. “Well, this is our house!” Hassan said, ending his sentence with a long sigh. “Okay then!” I say, waving to him as he walks away. Assum and I start to walk away, to go back home, when we hear a shout coming from behind us. “Esther! Esther! If you’re free tomorrow, maybe we should meet up before we have to go to the school?” Hassan said, out of breath, with a hint of worry in his voice. “Yeah, I’d like that.” I said, and walked away. Today has been out of the norm for me, and I hope everything is working out for the best

Emma Smith Précipice The garden was her old friend. It was situated far away from the house. The French summer sun beat down , but only a few small rays shimmered through the ivy and flowers that enclosed the garden. The heat still seeped through the covering and sweat, mixed with tears, moistened Elodie’s face. Despite the sweltering heat wave, the garden was calm and almost ethereal. Soft greens, mingling with the violet of flowers and the sparkly yellow of sunshine glowed. Refuge. Elodie sank down on a mossy stone bench, all her energy gone; still spinning from the storm she’d left back in the house. A torrent of dissension ripped through Elodie. Half her heart pulled toward passion, adventure and love and the other half pulled toward the known, the comfortable, and the “right.” She grappled with the opposing sides. On one hand was all she had known, but he gave color to her black and white world. “Elodie? It’s me.” The familiar voice comforted her stormy soul. “Marcel?” “I’m here.” “I’m lost,” Elodie whispered as another wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Arms found her. They held her. He listened. He didn’t judge. He understood. “I love you,” he whispered, “no matter what.” “I know,” she said and she did. The moment was alive with clarity; any stability in a life away from her parents might be unsure, but Marcel’s love was a guarantee. “How’d you know where I was?” “Because I know you , ma cherie ,” he said simply. Elodie didn’t say anything; she just stared straight ahead, resigned. “Do you…love me Elodie?” Marcel asked tentatively. “Because if hurting my feelings is the only thing preventing you from getting on with your life ” “Of course I love you,” she whispered fervently. “That’s why this is so hard!” “So you want to be with me,” he ventured. “Yes! ” “But…” he prompted. “But I don’t want to disappoint my parents.” Elodie studied her feet. “That’s all?” “They’re my family , Marcel. I love them, too. If this was a perfect world…” She sighed, then whispered, “If this was a perfect world, I could marry you…and my parents might still want me.” “In a perfect world, I’d be rich,” Marcel said. They were both quiet for moment, lost in the image of having everything. “But this isn’t a perfect world,” Elodie said, snapping back into reality, “and I have to decide.” The weight of those words hung over them for a moment. “No matter what I choose, I’ll hurt somebody.” It was the truth, and the pain of it filled her. “Then don’t decide.” It was tempting. “I have to – “ “I’ll make the decision for you. I’ll make it easy…” He looked at her long and hard. “Leave me.” Elodie let the words float between them for a moment. “Why?” “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we met…and I love you enough to let you go if that’s what you really want!” he said. “My parents love me…”she said, almost as an assurance to herself. Marcel let out a snort, but didn’t say anything. Elodie glanced at Marcel’s face. His beautiful, sun stained face; young, but with lines of hard work chiseled into his skin. Then she imagined never seeing it again. “I don’t like that decision.” She pouted. “Then stay with me.” “I’d never see my parents again.” She inhaled. “I don’t like that decision either.” “Damn it, Elodie, what do you want? ” Marcel rarely raised his voice, and the harsh words frightened Elodie. In that moment she despised him. The man who had always been so good at knowing her thoughts was deciding to be aggravatingly obtuse. Elodie felt a wall of resentment building in her. She turned to him coldly. “I don’t know. ” Silence. “I can’t help you with this.” The Reminder that she was alone seared in her heart. Elodie’s indignation bubbled just under the surface of her skin, white hot. “ Fight for me!” She yelled, with all her anger pouring out. “Give me a reason to stay with you!” “You love me” he started. “I know that !” Elodie snapped, annoyed. Was that all he had? Marcel stared at her, he seemed at a loss for words. And Elodie had almost given up on him. But then he began. “We would be happy. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I’m probably the worst that’s ever happened to you–” “No, Marcel– ” “Elodie,” he continued, as if she had never spoken, “your parents are offering you the comforts of a wealthy life. I’m offering you love. At the end of the day, only you can make the decision. And you have to decide what’s more important to you; status, or making this one life that you have, the best it can be.” He stared at her. For a long time. Then he kissed her. And he left, disappearing back into the foliage. The garden suddenly seemed very stuffy and Elodie slipped out the back of the garden down the lane overlooking the cliff. A young bird hopped from a branch to the ground, struggling to find its wings. It plummeted, like a deadweight, toward the hard, unfeeling ground below. Just inches from the ground, the bird stuck out its wings and the air caught them. Then, as if he had been doing it is whole life, the bird flapped away. He was right. There was no right or wrong decision. She simply had to choose. A leap of faith. Elodie shut her eyes. Blocking out the entire world for just a few seconds. One…two… and then she jumped.

Jenny Sui Pink Roses Whenever I walk into the room there are a ton of smells that flood my nose: the buttery smell of mashed potatoes, the crack of green beans. But my favorite, sweet warm bread that makes you want to walk up to someone and just give them a warm, big hug, give them some of that happiness. My Daddy’s voice is floating in from the table while he talks to Adam about escaping on to Canada, and Milly and Momma are laughing about a joke Milly was telling ‘bout her old master, their chatter like when those rocks we throw in the river down by the mill make ripples across the blue water. There’s pans clanging, fire popping, a lot of love inside of that bubble. Now usually that makes me happy. But had just got back from my walk from the old farmhouse and I couldn’t stop thinking what I’d told Kathleen. I’d been kicking a rock on the path in front of me, walking forward and giving it a big bunt that made it leap every time ahead of me. Maybe kicking it enough would get that heavy feeling off my chest. So I was sitting there nibbling my lips and combing my hair real quick, my bottom sliding forward off the chair. Daddy always tells me not to do that because I look like a slug. But I need some fresh air. I push myself up with hands that were stained blue from picking blackberries just this morning and I start tugging on one of the black cloths we got covering the windows. Momma notices me, while she’s peeling apples, and she walked on over. “Can ya watch the biscuits for a moment, Milly? Just make sure they don’t burn,” she says over her shoulder, taking off her apron. It used to be white when Daddy first got it for her, with pink roses, but now it’s dirty brown from the stains she’s got while cooking. The roses aren’t pink anymore, they’re yellow. The colors make my head spin and I feel sick. “What are you doing, Caroline?” Momma asks gently. She takes my hand off the cloth and repins it on the wood above the window. “Nothing, getting some fresh air.” I mumble as she walks me back to the wood chair. She sits herself next to me. “Looks like something’s wrong, honey. Why don’t you tell Momma, sugar? I won’t get mad,” she says. “You know Kathleen? Kathleen Davis? She looks just like me?” “You still playing with that girl, dear? Daddy told you that you couldn’t be friends with her. The girl with the yellow hair, yeah?” she asks, looking me in my eyes. “Oh. Well…well, she’s really nice you know. She always shares and one time she said that my hair was even more beautiful than hers! One time…one time, she…she even…” “That doesn’t make a difference, honey,” Momma cuts in, “We’re different and you two can’t be friends anymore.” “Well she’s really nice and I trust her, and all that.” I scrunch up my eyebrows and nod my head for emphasis, seriouslike. “I understand you do, and I’m sorry, but you have to listen to what Daddy says. Now is that the only problem, baby? Because if not I gotta go back and help Milly with the pie,” Momma says, standing up. Suddenly I change the subject. “You know, the Underground Railroad? And Daddy’s job as a…what is it? Oh yeah, a brakeman? It ain’t too important now, is it?” I say, casual. “Isn’t, Caroline, isn’t. Not ain’t,” she says glancing back up at the kitchen where something’s smoking. “And yes, well…of course it’s important.” Suddenly she looks back down at me. Her face is serious now, the lines on her face and between her eyebrows easy to see in the dim light. “You didn’t tell anyone about that, did you, Caroline? Because you know that we told you not to.” Milly is really having some problems now and Momma rushes back to help her. Turns out that the biscuits Milly’s looking over aren’t turning out the way they’re supposed to. As Milly rushes out of the room, embarrassed and scared, it burns and the smell of that and the color of Momma’s apron and the guilt inside of me: it makes me sick. I grab my comb and start counting to thirty again, cause I want to put my hands to use and do cornrows afterwards. “I knew I could trust you, Caroline, honey, with all the Railroad business,” my Momma says, stirring up a soup now, “you being the oldest and all.” I still smell fire. “Yes, Momma, you can! That’s why I told Kathleen—because I trust her just as much as you trust me. This much!” I say, holding my hands out real wide. Momma stops stirring and she moves her mouth open and closed, like a fish. Did I mention that I hate, hate, hate fish? Now that, and the smell of the burning biscuits, and the way Momma looks like a fish, and all the guilt I got inside my chest, and the color of the apron—I can’t hold it in, and I throw up, right on the dinner table, all my fears and hates and guilt and sadness mixed together in front of Momma. “Oh, honey, honey, how could you?!” Momma says, putting her head in her hands, the stirring spoon falling on the floor with a splash. “I said I could trust you!” she shrieks, her legs crumpling down, the weight of what I just told her pushing her down. “Oh Lord, Lord, what did I do?! What did I do?!” Momma says, head in her hands, salty tears dripping onto the roses of her apron, crumpled around her. I have never seen Momma cry before. “Momma, Momma, I’m sorry!” I wail, and I fall out of my chair, crawl on my hands and knees over to where she is, slipping on my sick as I move over to her: Momma’s shaking her head now, tears dripping. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she just slaps it off with her hand. She doesn’t love me. And so I’m crying there right next to Momma, and everything’s a blur, turned upside down and sideways, just like my life has been. “Oh Lord...what are we going to do?” She lifts up her head and yells to the sky. Daddy arrives, walking slowly and he’s a blur to me; he’s upsidedown and not registering in my mind. “What’s going on here?” he asks urgently, looking down at us, a mess on the ground. Momma tries to stop crying, taking big gasping breaths and clawing at her face, rubbing away the tears. “It’s…it’s just something Kathleen told me, honey.” She chokes out. And what did Kathleen tell you?” Daddy rumbles, looking down at me. “It isn’t about my job, is it? ” his voice is getting louder. “She didn’t tell anyone anything about the Railroad, did she?!” Momma’s shaking her head, wiping her apron over her eyes. “It’s nothing, hon, nothing. Why don’t you just go back and finish talking to Adam?” She stands up slowly, shaking slightly. “What did she say?!” Daddy hollers at Momma. Momma just shakes her head quietly, and the word slips out. “Davis.” As I watch realization wash over Daddy, his eyes get wider, his hand grips at his shirt and he turns his eyes toward me. As he steps close to me, his face a storm, I know that I have to get out of here. I can’t face Daddy anymore. Slipping and sliding, I run out the door and leave everything behind. Momma crying, and confused, guilty Milly, leave behind Daddy, who’s yelling and thundering as I run, and my sick, and the smell of the smoke, and the yellow roses.

Stephanie Taylor The Meeting The fashion show was completely mesmerizing. The girl kept imagining the magnificent dresses over and over again in her head. Though it was quite late and dark outside, she knew these roads like the back of her hand. The smell of evening dew filled her nose, accompanied by the scents of a cold and crisp fall evening. She passed a baker kneading the dough for the next morning’s croissants. Newly fallen leaves crunched beneath her feet adding a comforting rhythm to her solitary walk home. The sights and sounds of Paris engulfed her. “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!” Completely wrapped up in her own little world she’d managed to walk right into a young man. “Not a problem, miss. Are you alright?” She had been in a bit of a hurry and at such a pace the collision had set her off kilter, landing her in the stranger’s arms. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Oh dear. I’ve crinkled your shirt, I’m so sorry. Really, it was completely my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you all right? That was very reckless of me.” “Calm down, I’m fine.” Said the young man still holding her. “Look, not a scratch! Don’t worry, especially about the shirt, it’s not my favorite. Not to sound cocky, but you would have to hit me much harder to warrant such an apology. I believe it’s you we should be worried about. Where do you live? Let me walk you home.” She hadn’t noticed before, but the shirt was perfectly tailored, very dressy and had a highpriced look about it. Sylvie became more curious who this boy was, and worried that he might be of a higher class she thought it best to separate herself from him before their meeting got her in trouble. “That won’t be necessary, thank you, I can make it. It’s only a few blocks away.” “I insist. It’s the least I can do after blocking your way. No trouble at all. I was heading that way anyhow.” How could he have been “heading that way” when he was coming from the opposite direction? Thought the girl. Catching her confused and semiskeptical expression, the stranger explained, “I’m new here. I actually moved from England to live here in Paris with my father.” That explains the accent, thought the girl as she listened to the young man. He didn’t quite capture the correct accent and pronunciations, but he did have a very well developed vocabulary, as if he’d been studying French for years. “My father’s business has really taken off here, so the family’s finally moving across the channel. I’m still getting a feel for the streets and such.” Deciding it was too cold to stay and argue with this stranger, she allowed him to walk her home. She momentarily considered that perhaps the hierarchy of classes worked differently in England hence they wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules. She was also too intrigued by this handsome boy to leave his company just yet. “Oh, sorry. How rude of me, we haven’t had a proper introduction.” Shaking her hand the young man said, “Hello, I’m JeanPhilippe Worth. How do you do?” Now his English accent was very thick, and with the very English handshake it was all Sylvie could do to keep quiet and not correct him on his poor knowledge of French culture, for she knew it was not her place to tell him. Instead she said, “Hello. My name is Sylvie.” “Well it’s a pleasure make your acquaintance, Sylvie.” He paused a moment before he said her name, as if it was extra special and deserved just a bit more emphasis. Sylvie liked the way her name sounded when he said it, how it was different from the way anyone else said it, it simply had a nice ring. “So tell me a bit about yourself, how old are you? Do you have any siblings? What do you like to do? Oh, terribly sorry. Getting a bit carried away. Let’s just start with your age, shall we?” She worried about telling him too much, allowing him to realize that she was in fact from a lower class, but the way he looked at her made her want to trust and confide in him so badly. She finally cracked and told him all he wanted to know. “I am fourteen years old. I live with my little brother and my grandmother. I currently work in a textile factory, leaving very little time for things I like to do.” To distract him from the information she’d just revealed she added, “And you?” He was not distracted. “Interesting. So then you don’t live with your parents?” “No, my parents died when I was just a little girl.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” “Yes.” Sylvie shuffled her feet awkwardly. Her parents’ deaths had always been a touchy subject, and something she didn’t discuss with anyone, let alone complete strangers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t answer your question. What was it again?” “Oh, umm. I believe I asked you to describe yourself with the same questions you asked me.” “Right, right. Let’s see. I am also fourteen. I have an older brother named Gaston. And I like to sew and design clothing. Strange hobby for a boy, I know, but my father’s a designer, too, so I help out.” Sylvie was now sure that he was on the wealthier side of life. But she also decided that what was done was done, the two had met, and she was kind of falling for this boy, so she pushed the conversation along as she would with any other person. “Oh really? Wow! I love to sew too! I guess that’s all I do in my small amounts of spare time.” “Really? Interesting. Do you design, too?” “Definitely! It’s something of a hobby,” Sylvie’s eyes began to glaze over. She paused, thinking back, a look of nostalgia on her pretty face. “I’ve been designing ever since I was a little girl watching my mother patch socks and sew dresses for me…” She trailed off, lost in thought. “Are you coming?” “What?” She snapped out of it. “Oh, yes, sorry, I was just…thinking.” “Not a problem. So, how far?” “To where? Oh, right. Sorry, just another block or so. I’ll be fine from here if you need to go.” “I promised to walk you home, and I intend to see that promise through to the end.” He gave her a little wink and a playful smile. Sylvie was amazed that she could feel so comfortable with this boy, after only knowing him for a matter of minutes. She mused about how she’d lived with her Grandmother for almost ten years and she was, even now, just warming up to the crotchety old woman. Still looking dazed, but no longer staring at reflections from the past, Sylvie gazed up at this stranger—this complete stranger who had really began to grow on her. Wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed that they’d passed her house. She’d also failed to notice the man who’d just walked by, dressed in all black with his hat pulled down so his face was hidden in shadows. “Oops. Now we’ve passed it. I’m sorry.” “You need to pay more attention to where you’re going!” JeanPhilippe teased her. She blushed and they turned around, walking right into the strange man. He faked catching Sylvie, grabbed her (mostly empty) purse, and began to make a run for it. Unfortunately for him, Jean Philippe was very fast. Before he could get more than a few yards JeanPhilippe was on top of him, struggling to rip the small black bag from the thieving man’s clutches. The man attempted to punch JeanPhilippe, but he brushed it away as if it were nothing more than an angry toddler’s chubby fist, and proceeded to land his own fist squarely on the thief’s nose. Blood dripped down the man’s chin as he stumbled away completely defeated. The triumphant JeanPhilippe walked back to Sylvie, who was still shaking from shock. He put a reassuring arm around her and slid the bag back into her trembling hands, “So, miss clumsyfashiondesigner,” (no one had ever actually called her a fashion designer, Sylvie felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of the title), “since I’ve now saved your life, I believe you owe me another visit. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sylvie found it interesting that JeanPhilippe hadn’t just thrown her a small, half hearted, ‘sorry about that, hope to see you again,’ but instead he wanted to see her again, as if he was looking forward to it. This was not at all what Sylvie had expected. Completely caught offguard, she fumbled with her words, “Well I don’t really know…” She scolded herself mentally, trying to find a way to be flirtier and express that she, too, wanted to see him again. “Perhaps I’ll run into you in the park again?” “Perhaps. Well I look forward to it! Enchanté, Mademoiselle.” JeanPhilippe said, taking her hand politely, yet tenderly in his. He proceeded to kiss it, smile, and with a short bow, retreated back down the street—in the direction they had just come.

Ms. Harris Period 4

Table of contents:

Melinda Almachar Keelan Bailey Ashley Beeson Annie R. Cavender Luke Davis RJ Eserjose Alex Gow Son T. Huynh Anya Kalata Arif Khan Christy Klemisch Jessica Lancaster Cory Leigh Kevin Marshall Brittany Modica Keegan Monson Kenny Nguyen John Nyman Alex Ramsey Ashley Rimbakusumo Auri Robbins-Phillips Daniel Rowbotham Sofia Sanchez Annie Schlachter Michael Tekle Alex Tien Deven Waller

Melinda Almachar

Jenny’s Adventure

Jenny, who is a 20 year old, a time traveler who just got back from the 50’s, expecting a big hello from her husband. But no, instead she found the front door unlocked. Dark and cold, she walked into the creaky silent house. No one came to greet her, no hugs or kisses, just silence. All she heard was the clock strike 12 and little mice scattering behind the walls. “Hello?” Jenny said, behind her button up coat. “Is anyone here?” she walked into the hallway. “Bob!” she yelled, her voice echoing down the corridor. “I’m in here Jenny” Bob said. Jenny ran to the living room, seeing her husband sitting in his chair, zoning off to…nothing. “No hello? No ‘Hunny your back!’? Hello?! Are you okay?” “Oh sorry Jenny, I just…had a lot on my mind these past couple weeks you have been gone” Bob hunched over whispering, still not looking at Jenny. Jenny took off her coat, turned on the fireplace and turned on the lights. “Well, do you want some coffee? Do you want to talk? What happened? Just please tell me if you’re all right” Jenny said in a worried voice. “I’m okay, I just have a lot on my mind and I just…having it build up in my mind so long, I can’t take it anymore!” Bob got up and started pacing the living room. Then stopped, looked out the window, looking, but it seemed like he didn’t see anything. Just looked outside at nothing. In his eyes, was so much thought going on, Jenny didn’t know what to say. Bob hesitated, like he had so much he wanted to say, but nothing came out but, “How was your trip?” That’s when Jenny got irritated. “Bob, what is going on here?!” “Oh like you would know! You being gone so much, I bet you don’t even know what happened to your daughter in soccer, I bet you don’t know what happened to me at my job, you don’t know because you are never here!” Bob yelled. “It is not my fault that I'm here and then gone, it’s not like I can control where I go, when I go, and why I go! I ask myself that question all the time, and I would give anything to get the answers, but no, it JUST HAPPENS!” Jenny stormed upstairs into her room and slams the door shut, tears running down her cheeks. She was expecting her family to be waiting at the door for her, but no, she got into a fight within 5 minutes of her walking in. She could hear her husband’s voice downstairs on the phone with someone, she couldn’t tell what he was saying, the only thing she heard that came straight out his mouth was, “and I can’t do it anymore Doc” Jenny knew what was going on, and she just broke down crying, on the bed, curled up into a ball. She was thinking so hard on what she did wrong, and tried convincing herself that it wasn’t her fault. But it didn’t do any good. Then she heard a little knock on the door. “Come in” she said, while whipping her tears as fast as she could off her cheeks and eyes. “Mommy?” little Natasha said. “Hey baby” while Natasha ran into Jenny’s lap giving her a big hug. “I missed you mommy, where have you been?” Jenny said, “Well I have been on a trip for a while…but i'm here now, so don’t worrying about me, what have you been up to missy?” trying to put a smile on her face. “Well…I sprained my leg in soccer a week ago…but it feels way better than earlier, and…I’m getting really good grades, and I found a stray cat that dad let me keep, but made me take it to the animal shelter because he said you wouldn’t like it in our house.” Natasha said playing with Jenny’s hair. “Haha you are such a character Nat, and that is fantastic, good work. I’m glad I brought up a good, smart, loving daughter. And a stray cat? Well your dad is right; I don’t want it dirtying up the house. What did you name it? Wait! Your leg?! Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!” while checking her leg. “Hahaha mommy! I’m okay, like I said its way better now. Daddy helped me through it.” Jenny leaned back, she always was familiar when Natasha saying “daddy and mommy” but now it was just “daddy”. “Knock knock,” Bob said leaning on the door, “May I come in? “Daddy!!” Natasha ran into her dad’s arms, giving him a nice tight hug. “May I please talk to your mom alone?” “Yes you may!” Natasha jumped down, and ran downstairs. “I can tell you have been teaching her some manners huh.” Jenny said with a sigh, “your right, I have missed out on a lot, and i'm sorry for not being here, but it really is not my fault and I wish you would not yell or get angry at me for it. If I could change it, I would because I would rather be with my family any day, but I cant, so I try to be here for my family as long as I can…” “I know, I know… I just…missed you a lot. And I just cant take it anymore without you here with me…I need you, I need someone there for me, and for Natasha, when we got married, we promised we were in this marriage TOGETHER…it doesn’t really look like that in this situation…” Bob said looking at the wall. “What are you trying to say Bob…”? “I don’t know Jen…I just cant take it anymore…I love you SO much, but maybe that’s why…I think you deserve someone who will wait for you…” “You’re saying you can’t wait for me? You’re saying you would break a marriage because I'm gone too much, when it’s not even my fault?! We had a kid Bob, you can’t do this. We made a promise that we would never leave each other’s side! I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, to your daughter, to US!” Jenny cried in horror. “Jenny, listen” grabbing Jenny’s hands, “I just…cant do it, its not you, its me. I know it’s not your fault for always being gone, I guess I just need someone in my life that will always be there. You aren’t…and I…” “STOP, just stop it Bob, just leave, GET OUT NOW!” “Jenny! I’m sorry! Don’t get mad if I want a little break!” “No, you want a divorce huh, that’s taking a break, and never looking back, so you’re saying you never want to come back! I can’t believe you Bob, through thick and thin, we made a pact that we would always be there for each other!” “I’ll always be there for you Jen!” “It’s not the same, it will never be the same Bob, just leave, and if you really did love me, you will come back. Goodbye” Jenny said while running out of the room crying.

Keelan Bailey

THE GAME

Naleek your up! Shouted coach Cameron. I was headed to the bullpen to warm up. C’mon hurry up. Said Jeff. He was catching for me. As I wound up I had a strange feeling… I was picturing my dad before he died, the final pitch he threw, I must have blanked out for awhile because I didn’t even notice Jeff standing beside me. Hey man are you ok? Asked Jeff. Yeah I’m fine. I said. Ok lets warm you up then. Said Jeff. Ok. I said. When I wound up the second time. WHUMP! The ball hit the hard leather glove. Nice throw! Said Jeff. WHUMP! Another good throw I was in the zone. As I wound up for another my arm got this weird feeling like it wasn’t attached to my body. WOAH! Yelled Jeff. Where was that to? I don’t know man I’m just not feeling like myself today. I said. I need to get a drink I will be right back. Ok. Said jack hesitantly. The cool water felt good as it went down my throat. Something was wrong…. But I didn’t know what it was. I sat on the dugout bench for a few seconds… I was thinking about what was going on through my head when I was on the mound. Why was I picturing my dad on the mound. When I was picturing him it looked like he was trying to say something to me but I didn’t know what. Nothing seemed to be making any sense. Well o better get back to the bullpen before Jeff gets mad. As I jogged back to the bullpen I saw Jeff talking with our coach. I walked over slowly so they didn’t notice me. I was trying to hear what they were saying but as soon as I got within hearing distance Jeff noticed me and walked up to me. As we walked back to the bullpen I said what was that all about? What are you talking about? Asked Jeff. you know exactly what I am talking about, what were you talking about with coach? I said. Nothing, coach was just asking if you were ok because he saw you walking to the dugout. Said Jeff. So what did you tell him? I said annoyed. I just told him that you weren’t feeling all that well, so he said you didn’t have to pitch today if you didn’t want to. NO! I said I still want to pitch…I just needed some water that’s all, I feel better now. Whoa calm down man he said you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to . Jeff said calmly. Ok I said than lets start. As I stood on the mound I felt the tight grip of my hand on the baseball I rolled it around in my hand for a minute wound up. WHUMP! A perfect pitch down the middle. I was feeling a lot better because the next ten pitches were right down the middle. Alright. said Jeff , lets see you throw some curves. Ok I said. I wound up and as my arm stretched out I heard this POP sound, then I suddenly felt this tight pain in my arm. OW! I yelled. My arm went numb, and I couldn’t feel a thing. What’s wrong? Are you ok?! Asked Jeff, as he ran up to the pitchers mound. No I said as I shook my arm around trying to make the numbness go away. The team ran over to see what was going on. What’s the matter Naleek? Asked Coach Cameron. I don’t know. I said gripping my arm tightly. Do you want me to get the doc? Asked Jeff. no I’m fine, my arm just hurts a little bit. NO. said coach Cameron. You cant risk your arm getting hurt, I’m sorry Naleek you cant pitch today and were getting you to a hospital. Fine. I said. Alright help him get up boys. Said coach Cameron. As I got up I thought to myself….. what would dad be saying right now. I know he would want me to listen to the coach, but couldn’t help thinking that he might be somewhat disappointed In me for giving up. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to pitch for awhile but I still wanted to. As I waited for the ambulance I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jeff, he wanted to be the starting catcher for the Yankees this year and I just messed up his chances for that. Jeff you don’t have to come with me to the hospital, I think its best you don’t anyway. WHAT?!? Why would you say that? I’m your best friend of course I have to come with you! Jeff said slightly angered. NO! your not coming with me I’m not going to let this ruin your chances For the starting position this year. Ok?? Fine. Jeff said. With a sad look in his eyes. Listen. I said. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings but I want you to get that starting position, I don’t want me to mess up your chances ok? Ok. Said Jeff. Naleek I need to tell you what coach and I were really talking about….. ok…. I said. What is it ? but before he could say another word the ambulance showed up and drove me away.

Ashley Beeson

Bracelet I was in the hospital. The cold drift of wind moving through the hallways sent shivers down my spine. The walls plastered with flowered wallpaper. It was raining out and you couldn’t hear the chirp of even one single bird. Nurses were running through the hallways wearing pink and cartoon scrubs. The sounds of families crying and directions being yelled in the emergency room. All I could do was hope for the best. Was my father dead or alive? Had his surgery gone well? I tried to think about the possible scenarios. My 16th birthday is tomorrow. Such a special day in my life had to come at such a horrible time. The only thing I had wanted from my father was a brand new car, but now the only thing I wanted was for him to be alive. I twiddled with my thumbs, played with my hair, and comforted my mom. I walked around the hospital, ate in the café, and went to the bathroom just to look in the mirror, hoping this was all a dream. God was the only person I had now. I was hoping he wasn’t going to let me down. My father was only thirtyfive years old. It wasn’t his time to die of a disease rare for his age. I wasn’t going to give him up. If the doctors couldn’t save him…I would. My father fought everyday for his life. He lost his hair and most of all his ability to do everyday activities. I was glad we had one last family trip. I saw the joy in his face and he was carried by the waves swimming in the almost healing water. It was almost like magic. He laughed, smiled, cracked jokes, and body surfed. He went on long walks down the beach and danced at the luaus. Hawaii let my dad be himself for once. “Mom everything is going to be okay. Dad will fight, till he has no strength left in him,” I calmly said to my mother. “Dear, I hope you are right...” Something in my mom’s voice made me worry. My dad wasn’t going to die, right? It seemed like forever. I looked at the clock. One minutes seemed like one hour. The irritations of my brother kicking his chair with his swinging legs, grandparents next to me practically coughing their brains out, and the smells of dirty diapers as newborn babies were being strolled around the hallways kept building up in my mind. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed an answer. I was just about to scream when my father’s doctor came out of the big, swinging doors and walked slowly towards us. “I’m really sorry,” the doctor said quietly. “There were some complications during surgery. I’m really sorry.” We were speechless. I couldn’t even begin to think of something to say. My father was gone and I couldn’t do anything about it. He was really gone. I was in shock. I began to cry. All the memories I had ever had went streaming through my mind. All the picnics we used to have, the long walks we took on summer nights, all the sports teams he coached of mine. I started to have regrets. I should have said I loved him more. I should have spent more time with him. Robert, my father, my hero, my role model, was forever gone. “Mom, brother, he may be gone, but he will always be looking down upon us for as long as we live. He is our guardian angel,” I quietly said. My brother and mom looked at me with a little smile. “Honey, stay strong. I love you,” my mom whispered. “Mom, I’m glad we got to go on that one last trip. Dad looked like a new man. He never got sick while we were there and I didn’t see one strand of hair lying on the back of his shirt. He was a wonderful father. I still remember back when I was a little girl. He used to give me piggyback rides everywhere we went. He used to do my hair when you were off on business trips. He was definitely someone I was proud to call my father.” My brother, mom, and I sat there. We prayed and thought for a long time. I finally had stopped crying. I knew it wasn’t going to change anything and I had to face reality even though I most certainly didn’t want to. That’s one thing I never wanted to be faced with. I loved my father with my whole heart and so did my family. “I guess there is some good to what has happened. He will be right by my side the whole entire way. He is now in a better place and is free from pain. He doesn’t have to suffer anymore,” I said to mother trying to comfort her. “Your father wanted me to give you this note once he passed away,” my mother said calmly. I reached towards my mother’s hand and gently took the note out of it. Written in his signature handwriting was a small, neatly folded note.

Dear Rachel, I never thought this day was going to come. I fought hard everyday to stay alive. You have grown up to be quite a beautiful young lady. I left my favorite bracelet at home for you. It is underneath my pillow. Wear it everyday for me and never take it off. I love you and already miss you. Stay strong for me.” Hugs and kisses, Dad I am glad my dad left something special for me. Ever since my dad was diagnosed with cancer he had worn that bracelet. Even though I was going to miss him very much I knew he would always be in my presence in spirit.

Annie R. Cavender

Untitled Casey Noland was sitting in Chemistry sixth period dazing off looking through the window at the clear blue sky, and the colorful garden surrounded with beautiful green trees. She couldn’t wait to get home and start to pack. It was the last day before Spring Break! Her and her father, Rob Noland, were going to Europe for the second time, just the two of them. She was excited, but at the same time sad because she wouldn’t be able to see her boyfriend Jaxson for two weeks because she was going to be gone all through Spring break and the week after Spring Break, he was going to New York to look at colleges that he got accepted to. Casey was a Junior, and Jaxson, a senior. They had been going out since her freshman year. Casey’s mother and father got a divorce the summer before high school started. Ever since then Casey and her mother rarely talked and she and her father had been inseparable. “Dad, I’m home! I am going to start packing after I get something to eat!” No answer. “Dad?” Casey saw a letter on the coffee table addressed Casey, she read it out loud. “You and your father aren’t going to be able to go to Europe this week sweat heart, he is in jail. We aren’t sure why, but the police came to get him today at his house. Call me when you get this. Love, Mom.” So many different things were running through Casey’s mind at the moment. She could barely think of her mother’s number to call her and see what was going on, and why her father was in jail. Soon enough, she called her mom’s phone, but it went straight for voice mail. Casey dropped the phone and started to cry. The phone rang, it was only Jaxson. “Jaxson.” she said to herself. “Hello?” she spoke into the phone in a disturbed voice. “What’s wrong, Case?” “Something is wrong with my dad, I don’t know yet. I will call you when I know more.” Casey said. She went downstairs to talk to her brother and sister and get something to eat. Casey heard the phone ring and ran to get it. “Mom?!?” Casey said stepping outside overlooking her pool and the high tide hitting against the rocks. “What’s going on? Is he going to be able to get out? We have to go bale him out!” “Casey, there isn’t anything we can do, I was going to go talk to the lawyer and see what is going on. Everything will be just fine.” Her mother hung up and she heard dead silence on the other side of the phone. Casey was walking into the foyer and heard the doorbell ring, it was Jaxson. Once Casey saw it was him, she give him the biggest hug, and started to cry. They went upstairs in her room to talk. “Case, you have to tell me what’s going on?” Said Jaxson. “It’s my dad, he is in jail and we don’t know why!” she said weeping. Jaxson didn’t know what to say, all he could do was give her hugs and tell her that he was here for her no matter what. Jaxson told her that he would go hang out with the younger ones downstairs and to try and get herself together. Casey couldn’t stop thinking about her dad. She couldn’t bare to think about not being able to see him. Within 30 minutes of thinking about the worse thing possible, she fell asleep. Casey smelled the barbeque coming from outside through her window. She got up very slowly, and went to the bathroom. She looked horrible. Her long dirty blond hair was a rat’s nest, and her crystal blue eyes were swollen all around. Casey was one of those girls who barely wore any make up but was still beautiful. The most she wore was mascara. She turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on her face. Once she was done trying to make herself not look like she had just cried herself to sleep, she went downstairs to eat dinner. A few days later Ruby had given her a letter that said “FEDERAL PRISON” On the front of it. Casey opened it and read it. The letter said that Rob had known he was going to be going to jail, but didn’t want to tell Casey and wanted to spend time with her which was why they had been going to Europe, but, it happened faster then he thought. The next day, she went down to the jail to talk to her dad. There was a lot of paper work involved, which she wasn’t happy about. Finally, they approved her and she was able to go see him. Casey found a seat and waited for about 45 minutes till he got down to the visiting room. “Ace!” Rob said. Rob had always called Casey, Ace. Casey got up and gave him a hug. She started crying when he held her and she took a deep breath inhaling his aroma that she had missed so much. She backed up and said, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you knew you were going to be sent to jail, how could you?” “You don’t understand Ace.” Said Rob. “Tell me what I don’t understand. We tell each other everything!” “I am so sorry, you have to forgive me.” “I have to think about it dad. I am so upset.” Casey got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked away. After spring break, she was doing a little bit better, but was not the same. Everyone kept asking what was wrong and she couldn’t handle it. One day after school her mother was home. They talked about Rob and her mother finally said she was sorry for not being there for all those years, and not being able to see her grow up. Casey’s mother, Marie was never home, who knows what she had been doing. She didn’t care what she had been doing though; all she cared about was that she had said sorry. Through the rest of the year her and her mother became closer. It took her awhile to forgive and forget, but once she saw that Marie was making an effort to do stuff with her, soon then later Casey forgave her completely . Casey wanted to go to NYU for photography. Her and her father would always take pictures together, and she loved it. Casey got accepted to NYU and from there on out, was glad that she got to experience what had happened with her father and mother. Nothing could stop Casey Noland, she fought for what she wanted. It was her against the world.

Luke Davis dude where’s my car Phil and Collin just woke up from a long birthday party the previous day. Phil never expected to wake up this early on a Saturday but this time it made since. After all he was at Collins house and Collin did have a baseball game. Turns out that not everyone got to sleep in on a Saturday. Phil was the last one to wake up at Collins house. Collins dad had already started breakfast and Collin was in the shower. Phil slowly got out of bed forgetting to stretch and fell back down to the bed like he was shoved back. He then tries again, stretching this time and successfully gets up. He takes off all the blankets and puts them back into Collins room. Phil returns to the fold out bed to put away the pillows and sheets. “hey, thanks Phil for cleaning up, we have to go to his game soon so get ready” says Collins dad. Phil reply’s with a silent head nod and do as he was told. It looked cold outside so Phil layers up with all of the shirts and sweater’s he had packet, which consisted of one shirt and to sweaters. As he finished getting ready for the game he grabs his Ipod and head phones. All of them get into the car which for some reason was a rental car. As they leave Phil notices how early he just got up on a Friday and decides to catch up on some sleep. When Phil wakes up from his long nap he has a hard time getting up so he just lays there for awhile slowly waking up. Finally Phil is awake enough to look around only to notice that everyone is gone. Looks like Collins dad left behind the keys for him. Collin doesn’t have a cell phone and he doesn’t know Collins dads cell phone number. As he is looking through his contacts his phone rings very shortly telling him that it’s about to die. He tries to make a quick call but the phone dies as he clicked the send button. Phil then tries to see if he had a clue to where he is, but he did not. Phil decides to stay in the car and lessens to the radio. This entertains Phil for awhile as he just lay’s in the car but then feels bored and decides to walk around. Leaving his dead phone in the car he takes the keys and walks around. On his walk he see’s many empty fields. Non of which were for the sport his friend played. He continues to walk towards the most activities he can find which was located 3 soccer fields over. He did now what was over there because this field was at the bottom of a small hill. But he heard the crack of a baseball bat which was promising. When he finally got there he was sadden to see a little league game going on. No sign of Collin or his dad. Now Phil was getting worried. He didn’t know where he was where his friends wear and his cell phone was dead. Phil had no clue what to do so he decided to go back into the car and take another nap. As Phil was walking back to the car he was constantly keeping his head on a swivel, keeping an eye out for Collin. But as usual he didn’t see anything. He unlocked the car door using the remote thing on the key ring and got into the back seat and started to fall asleep. This time he fell asleep very quickly and quietly. When he awoke he was sweating a lot and his eyes hurt. He rubbed them and took off a sweater and looked outside. It was very sunny out and there were no clouds in the sky. There were also people running on the track part of all three soccer fields and there were people playing soccer on each field. Phil was very confused. ”how much time went by!” he asked himself. He then got out off the car with only a t shirt on and walked beside the three soccer field looking at everyone he saw. But non of them were Collin. Without knowing it Phil left the keys in the rental car with the door unlocked. As he continued to look for Collin he noticed someone approaching the car he was on the other side of the fields and whoever it was couldn’t see phil. “HEY” shouted Phil trying to get the person attention. Phil started power walking over to the car. The person then opened the door to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat. Phil increased his walk to a jog. The person then fumbled around expecting to find the keys. Phil did the same but couldn’t find them in any of his pockets! The person in the car found them and put them into the ignition and started the car. Phil was about one hundred feet away and was sprinting the rest of the way. He dodged several kids in the soccer jerseys and all most hit a parent on his way over. The man then put the car in drive and started moving forward. Phil jumped over the curb and landed on the road the car increased his speed and went out of the mini parking lot and on to the main road. Phil continued to chase the car tell he was out of breath. Resting on the side of the road putting his hands on his knees he caught his breath and stood up and looked around, but as he turned his head he finally saw Collin and his dad approaching were the car once was. They then saw Phil and asked “dude where’s my car?”

RJ Eserjose

The Basketball Dream Catastrophe

Days in L.A. lately have been cold though mindblowing. There was a huge catastrophe that recently happened around towna murder. It was March 1 st , the only month for the state basketball games. Here in L.A., folks and children have been waiting for this time to come. It was the biggest and most exciting sporting event going on and all who were watching were excited. Some thought Omega high school was going to win, but was going to be nervous because they would feel the pressure crashing into there minds. The truth is, team Omega were nervous and were going into an obstacle that was difficult, but definitely able to overcome Jr. Ciershaut was the captain of Omega‘s basketball team. They were eating at there lucky restaurant where they always go to eat before a game together. “It’s that time of the month when we step up our game, think only about our future, play our best, and forget about the girls,” Jr. said. All the players laughed and went back on to eating their food. Jr. was eating his favorite meal (sushi, orange chicken, spaghetti, strawberry milk, and chocolate covered strawberries) at a restaurant named Elmo’s Got It All . “We all want the Championship, correct?” Coach G. said. “Most definitely!” Omega’s basketball team said. “Well its time to show what we can do: win a state championship, make those around us happy, and make history!” Coach G. said. This was going to be one of the last times Omega’s basketball team would eat together before a game. So Captain Jr. Ciershaut, a senior stands up, and tells one of his favorite memories from being on the varsity team for Omega High School. “Team, one day as a freshman, I came to practice, I was working my hardest and to be honest, smashing the seniors, of course. The seniors were starting to get frustrated. After we were dismissed from practice, I went to take a shower. Being the only freshman on the team, and seniors being mad with me, I was a perfect target! Right when I came out of the shower we looked at each other and I saw them run off with my clothes. Since I was more athletic than those jerks, I was catching up to those seniors as they ran into the gym. When I got to the gym, I was in my towel halfnaked in front of the whole volleyball team! My stomach started to feel like it was twisting and turning, and it was a memory that was unforgettable. I was so embarrassed and ran back into the locker room and just sat down stunned and with my jaw dropped open. I learned that day, even if you are better than seniors, still respect them and don’t beat them so bad that they make a move to embarrass you and leave you with a high school memory that will stick with you forever.” Jr. Ciershaut says. The whole team ended up laughing and falling out of their seats and coach was dropping teardrops. All of a sudden, Officer Rob comes into the restaurant and asks Coach G. to come speak with him, disturbing the wonderful and peaceful dinner of Omega’s team. After their conversation, Coach G. comes back sadly but walks towards one of the players on the team named John and says the officer needs to talk to him. Once John leaves to talk, Coach G. dismisses the team all with stunned faces. Once coach left, the team gathered up together and had a meeting. “Do any of you guys know what happened to John?” Jr. asks. No one talks and everyone is speechless. Some of the guys had worried and scared looks on their faces. “Well then, guys, don’t worry about this situation and let me deal with it and I’ll find out what’s going on. Come on team, we can’t let this get into our heads and we can definitely not lose. We would bring our city to devastation with no hope for another championship in the future. Get a good night rest and eat and drink well, see you all tomorrow.” Jr. says. Once Jr. was done speaking, all of the team left except for one player, Jr. He did some investigations, just like on Scooby Doo . He went around the corner of the restaurant and went to listen to what Officer Rob and John were talking about. During the conversation, Jr. heard something that left his mind in total shock. Jr. was scared when he found out that John was being accused for the murder a week or so ago! Jr. knew it couldn’t possibly have been John that caused this murder because he was a close friend with John and Jr. guaranteed John was no murder. When Jr. was just getting into the conversation, he didn’t even know the officer and John where walking back towards the officer’s car and Jr. made a quick run for it behind the garbage can. Soon after the officer left with John in his car, Jr. quickly went to his car and went straight towards the police station! When he got there, the officer was being stubborn and not letting Jr. see John but soon, Jr was allowed to come and visit John. “John, what happened man?” Jr. says. “Bro, this is ridiculous, I didn’t do anything, you have to believe me, man I would never hurt anyone in anyway and you know that, I promise you, just help me get out of here so I can play in our state games!” John says. “John, I’ve known you for a long time and I can’t stand to see you here in this devastating place. I’m going to get you out of here no matter what it takes.” Jr. said. Now, not only does Jr. have to worry about the state games and leading his team to a state championship, but also he has to help John get out of this murder case. “Thank you Jr., you’re the best and you are the most reliable person I know. Get some sleep and I’ll see you soon.” John says. “You’re welcome John, I’m going to whatever I can to help this situation out and help win us a state championship. Good night John.” Jr. says. The night before the championship and we have one of the most insane beginnings to a basketball captain’s life before state! Knowing Jr. though, if anyone can accomplish these tasks, Jr. can.

Alex Gow Untitled As the day goes on, Johnny’s Johnny got up from his swivel chair, crammed in his office cubicle. As he walked down the windowed hallway, he could see the park across the street, with the lush green grass and new, pristine play equipment for the kids, and seeing them enjoy their lives. Not caring about the new claims policy, or if the copy machine needs new paper. They didn’t need to think about any of that, just slid on the slide, swung on the swings and just didn’t care. Johnny just wanted to get away from his crap job, to a place with no copy machines, no bosses, nothing to worry about, but Johnny then snapped back to reality and realized that absolutely no one would let him do that, especially his boss Mike, yelling at him from inside his office. Johnny let out a sigh and continued down the hall toward his boss’s office, praying for the words that all to often escaped his boss’s lips ‘you’re fired!’. But even god couldn’t control Mike’s actions or temper, one second he’s your best friend, the next he’s trying to slit your throat with a letter opener. But none the less, Johnny entered his office, sat down in a chair, and was met by a glare that only Mike could produce. “So Johnny, you say you’ve been working, but quarter reports beg to differ. Any explanation?” “Well, I’ve been having troubles at home with the family and what not. You know what I’m talking about right?” Johnny said. “Unlike you , I don’t need a family to be happy, so, no I don’t. Are you implying something?” said Mike “No, no.” Johnny said sighing “Just trying to relate I guess.” “Well, guessing doesn’t get you anywhere in the business world, and believe me I would know.” Mike said, gesturing at thin air, “Just look who your boss is.” “Yeah, look.” Said Johnny in a grumbly voice. “And I think you need some time away from the office too.” Said Mike, “and by time I mean forever…Meaning you’re fired. Understand?” “Yeah, I understand, so then I guess I should get my stuff boxed up then.” “Yeah, you should, and good luck out there.” Johnny slowly shuffled down the hallway, thinking about what he was going to do now. His job was gone and his emotions were buzzing around on his head. As he approached his desk, he began to pile his things in to the cardboard box, giving him time to think about his future and how he will get by. With his things in the box, and his mind set on the future, Johnny walked out to his car and popped open the trunk, and layed the box down on the bottom. Johnny once again entered the office building to say his final goodbyes to everyone, even though he wasn’t too fond of any of them. As his coworkers waved their final waves of goodbye, Johnny began to realize what he had, a job, good friends, and something to do all day, Johnny had always dreamed of getting fired, but never thought that Mike would actually do it. He began to think to himself, asking himself all these different questions, regarding all kinds of things, life, friends, jobs, and a mishmash of others it was hard to comprehend, even for Johnny. And as Johnny was walking out the door, he heard a voice from somewhere behind him. “Well Johnny boy, it looks like this might be the last time I will ever wee you again, so might as well say it now, thanks for juts being here, I know we’re not the most likable people on the planet, but you put up with our crap, and that’s good enough for me. Thanks.” Said Dave, the IT guy. And as Johnny turned around and saw the entire office gathered around him, with smiles on their faces. He never knew they cared that much about him. He never knew anyone cared that much about him. But there they were, and now leaving seemed a lot worse now, but Johnny knew he ha to go, no matter how much he wanted to. As he pushed the door to the parking lot open, he thought to himself what his coworkers would think of him in his permanent absence. All he could care about now was getting home and enjoying the rest of his life.

Son T. Huynh Oh! Madness The cars across the street in the summer cover by the strong sunlight shining all over the city, green grass blowing gently in the summer light air. Dogs running to catch Frisbee and a ball, stopping to drink water from a nearby creek. Kids are laughing plus playing. A cool breeze blowing yellow leafs falling down onto the road, green leaf stay on the apple tree that is how Peter life look like. Living in the middle of a beautiful city Seattle, WA. Peter Timberlake, the oldest son in the house. The way he talks like fire burning up, believed in his fate, crushed anything on his way. Peter now is going on 16, but this day always made him mad, the day his father died because of a car accident, and that was his birthday. Jenny a little cute girl who is Peter’s sister, only five years old but she like to read. The birds are singing in the park, the rainbow lake where the fish are chasing and playing together in the fresh water. Peter is an angry teenager; he wears blue jeans and a black t shirt, long straight hair looks like Chinese hairstyles, sitting on the rock, watching the fish and the fresh air go through his mind. “Tick tock on the clock” Peter sang. The watch is run, everything around looking normal but sadness still always within his heart, suddenly a strong sound wave calling him. “Peter!” didn’t answer but try to freeze. “Hey Peter, what are you doing up there?” Uncle Lelouch asks. “Nothing much sir,” Peter said. “Peter can I ask you a favorite?” Uncle Lelouch asks. “Yes sir, go on please,” Peter said. “Can you get to the market buy a chicken, beans and some fruit?” he asks. “Aw c’mon uncle, I’m too lazy to do your request but no, don’t you see I’m busy right now?” Peter answers. “Don’t be stupid will ya? You just don’t want to do it. The facts is your mom has been sick for 2 weeks plus she can’t go to work then you will do it,” Uncle Lelouch said. “Why should I do this?” Peter asks. “Ok, listen up boy, this is not my job ok, it is your responsible to show that you are truly her son. Why don’t you try to understand your mother eh? Wonder when you can learn how much your Mon loves you. Now stand up and do your job or I won’t make dinner for this house, by the way I though your toys can sell for higher price if you not go then I support I’ll sell all your toys,” Uncle Lelouch said. “Ok, I’m sorry. I’ll go right away,” Peter said. While walking to the market, he looking for a flower shop then bought some Iris and Amaryllis for his mom. The last ting he needs to do is go to the market, it took about 15 minutes to get there. Now before him is the fancy red fire building, it is a most 6PM the worker turn the hyper light on look amazing. The problem is food, this is the first time he goes to this kind of market, it made him confused. Chicken, beans, and fruits took him a little while find. “Aw, I’m so hungry, my stomach is slowly burning my energy turning to water, I need to finish this fast,” Peter said. Even so the dark is coming through the city, the cloud no longer white because it’s color. Peter need to go home quick as possible, he runs like Sonic the fastest character in anime and guess a terrible thing is before his eyes. The lines are fully of water like a huge whale swimming in the water. No choice but cut line, his ability is snake in and snake out so he can made it out easily, Peter was really excites. “Hey yourself, why are you cutting the line?” John asks. “You a strange person, black curly hair, white tshirt and blue short. Looking like a chicken fried,” Peter said Both had been burring up by a fireball came from nowhere coming through. “So, you want to challenge me eh? Alright I’ll show you everything that I got,” Peter said. People around are watching us, but none of us making a move. “What’s the matter? Why not fight me? Ha are you scared now?” peter asks. “Not really, I just don’t want to fight with you. How a bout a chess game eh?” John asks. “Fine by me, a chess game will show us what kind of people are we, I accept your challenge,” Peter answer. “Hey you, if you lose to me then I’ll ask you to stop cutting the line and respect other people is that a good deal?” John asks. “Ok, let’s finish this once and for all!” Peter said. Join first move is the king. “Why you move your king?” Peter asks. “If the king not move how can the knight following him and protect their greatest king,” John said. After 10 minutes, Peter lost his knight only king and queen left. “What should I do know? I can’t lose like this, no fair how can I lose to this guy?” Peter said. At last, the game is over Peter lost to John. “No no no no, how can this be?” Peter said. “Listen up, as I said if I win you’ll have to stop cutting the line and respect other people, you’re a teenager not a children anyone more, grow up man! Anything you do will change your life so please remember that,” John said. He walks away. Finally it’s Peter turn, he still thinking about those words that John has told him, right now in Peter mind is clearly understand what does it mean to be respectful. “Thank you very much, I’ve learned it from you John, from now on I’ll try my best to be a gentle person and I’ll never cut line,” Peter said.

Anya Kalata

Late Night Call

Drenched in cold sweat my heart pounding so fast I thought I was having a heart attack. I had just seen visions of all that’s bad in the world eating me from the inside out; thankfully it was just a dream. Looking over at the clock I noticed it was only 2:15am. No one was here to save me from my nightmares and tell me it’s okay, I was alone in the dead of night. Everyone was sleeping and getting a rest from horrible little things that affect our own innocence that we cannot replenish. I stare at the mirror across my darkened room that no longer comforted me in its cold silence. Brunette hair the length of my shoulders tangled in knots, dark circles surrounding my eyes, were the only thing I could see when I looked at my 15year old reflection. The only person who has ever seen the beauty in me is Mitch; he is the single most important person to me. We have been neighbors since we were both in diapers, and friends ever since we could talk. Now we are inseparable, two souls intertwined. We started dating 3 years ago; if I didn’t have him I wouldn’t have anyone. My parents are satisfactory, but they don’t know me beyond dancing and the smile I put on every morning. The nightstand next to my bed starts to buzz; it’s my phone. I take the cold plastic into my hand and examine the screen; it is Mitch’s parents calling. Beginning to panic, I hold back my sobs. Something dreadful happened. Shakily I answer the call, “…. HHello?” “Hi Alyssa…. I don’t really know how to say this honey…” Mitch’s mom begins, you can tell by her voice she is in deep emotional pain, “Mitch is at the hospital… He didn’t come home last night so we called the police, it turns out he crashed into a streetlight on his way home.” “Will he be alright?” I heavily ask, afraid that I already know the answer. “I don’t think he is going to make it, it would be best if you come see him now.” Sigh…“I will to get there soon,” I reply as I hang up the phone. My world just crashed around me and burned in a single 2 minutes. I lay back in bed with the covers pulled over my head and begin to sob, what could I have done to deserve this? Contemplating everything in my life, I can’t remember a moment that doesn’t involve Mitch. He was there for everything… As I attempt to gather my thoughts I aimlessly throw on some clothes and try to stop the waterworks. I speed down the cold stone stairs and sprint into my parents’ room. I rush my parents out of bed while they try to comprehend what was going on in all of the confusion. “We don’t have time to discuss what happened!” I sob, “Mitch is in the hospital, and chances are he isn’t going to make it until morning!” “Oh my lord! I had no idea, I’m so sorry Alyssa,” my parents replied. “Save it, we have to leave now!” The only thing my parents didn’t give me was a real parent. They tried to buy my love, while they worked full time jobs. I only saw them for a few hours a week. Even then they were too preoccupied with being upper class to spend time with me. We ran out the door bursting into the cold night, I didn’t have time to realize how cold it was. When we got to the car my forgetful father realized he didn’t get the keys. My mom and I stood in silence as we waited for my dad to come back. There was nothing for us to discuss, Mitch’s family was more of a family to me. “OK! I have the keys!” my father shouted. Streetlights flying by, sirens from ambulances driving like crazy trying to save one more life. Thoughts entered my head and wouldn’t leave, what if I was too late? What if I would never see Mitch again? Could I live with myself? No, I couldn’t play what ifs; I had to get to him as soon as I could. Stepping into the hospital I could smell the rubber gloves, see the elderly and sick, people who have struggled with trauma, and expecting mothers, the florescent lights flickered as I shuffled down the long corridors.

I turn around when I hear loud footsteps behind me. It’s three nurses dressing in teal hospital clothes equipped with gloves that you can blow up into balloons. Behind them they are trailing along a gurney, at first I think nothing of it however then I see it has a body bag on it. Inevitably there is a body zipped in there on its way to the morgue. Next to it a tall lady with sweats on is crying her heart out. She had black mascara running down her red swollen face, something terrible must have happened to her. Looking a little closer I suddenly realize that it’s Mitch’s mom! The hallway starts to spin; I can’t feel anything below my stomach. This can’t be happening! The last thing I see are the florescent lights, as I black out. * Strong lights hit my face like a train heading right for me. It took a few seconds for everything to register, the only thing I could think about was my splitting headache. I heard sniffles coming from the opposite side of the room; they were coming from my parents. In that moment alone I realized I had my parents, they have been here all this time. I just had to open up my eyes. Embracing me in hugs, and telling me we would get through this together I was completely and utterly thankful I had them. Sometimes in life we push those away that care for us most, scared that we would get hurt if we let them into our fragile lives. We have to take life as it is and make it into something that’s beautiful, we can’t waste time thinking of what could have been. Even if I didn’t have Mitch, I will always have my parents.

Arif Khan

The Past

I’m walking away from my best friends house, I remember this street from four years ago. A flash in my head goes off and all the bad memories come to life, all the actions that went on this street replay in my head. The dead body in the ditch, dogfights and betting, and all the gang fights that happened. As I walk I see the orange glow from the city. I can also see the city’s skyline. It was beautiful in a way. Then the worst memory that came was from across the street it was my old house rundown and window boarded up. I can’t bear even remembering all the stuff that went on in there. I look the left and there was another house creaking from all the old wood. The lights are on. I can hear people arguing inside, that’s not surprising. That was Jimmy’s house, I remember him from freshmen year, and he was my first fight of freshmen year. I beat the crap out of him. All it does is beat the crap out of me every time I remember that. I thought of knocking on the door and saying sorry for all the rough times I gave him, but I realize he doesn’t live there anymore. My friend told me he moved somewhere in Lake Forest Park. That’s where I live. Maybe I could find where he lives and tell him I am sorry for what I have done. So I start walking again, still hearing whoever it was arguing. A dog starts barking then another and another then the whole street is just barking, everyone turns their lights on and starts yelling, keep your dog quiet or else I’m going to do it. About 30 seconds later things went back to normal I start to walk again. It seems like I was never going to get to my car. I feel for my keys in my pocket because I am just a few steps away from my car when I hear a skid and a car coming after me, that only meant drive by. As the car went by in slow motion I realized that it was these two boys in my freshman class. They dropped out of school that year. They were in another gang. my enemy. As they came closer I knew that I was going to get shot, my life came in a flash. I thought of my family my friends. Everyone in my life I thought about even my pets. I thought about all the bad in my life and also all the good times. All my life lessons and everything I knew. As my life went by me I realized there was a mailbox on my right, I ran but it seemed that I was running so slow. It felt like I wasn’t going to make it in time. I dove right in front of the mail box, I looked around they were gone but they were coming back I knew that for sure. I was thinking if I should hide or run fro the car but at that moment I hear the car’s engine again they were coming after me, I look everywhere but I can’t see them, I can’t see their head lights to the car. I thought I am going mad. I hear the car getting closer and closer but still the car isn’t in sight. Then out of nowhere the car pops out of the dark and guns open fire. I close my eyes, saying to myself this was a good life. I pray and wait for the bullets to come and hit me. Then I open my eyes and there is nothing. I thought once I am going mad or is it just all bad memories in my head. I can’t handle it anymore. This part of town is like a bad part of memory and I realize that where I live now is a good part of my memories. I slowly go to my car, making sure there is no drive by. I take my keys out of my pocket; I unlock my door and go into the car. I start the engine; it spooks me remembering my fake drive by. The car warmed up and I start driving, looking around remembering everything again. It is horrible. I realize the kid driving in the car was the one I killed in my drive by. That drive by killed myself I put myself in that kids shoes. I killed a moms child. I wonder how my mom would feel is I was dead. At the streetlight I make myself a promise I was never going to go back to the neighborhood again. It is the most horrible thing I experienced in my life. I killed myself in that neighborhood and other’s that were innocent.

Christy Klemisch Elliot’s Story I was walking though the mall windowshopping with Chris. He has been my best friend since I moved to the beautiful city of Los Angeles from Washington State. I had lived there for the first thirteen years of my life. He was the only person that came up to me on my first day of school and introduced himself. I always make fun of him for his bright white hair because he is one of the tannest people I know. But it is allnatural, he doesn’t do anything to his skin nor hair. “I have a question, but it is kind of personal,” Chris says. “Ask away,” I say because I am a very open person. “Don’t get mad that I am asking, but what ever happened to your mom? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to I am just kind of curious,” He asks with a scared face. “She left us three years ago. There is a story but I don’t think that you want to hear it because t is really boring and even sadder,” I say. “I would love to hear it. If you want to tell me.” “I trust that you won’t judge too badly, but could you please not tell anyone about this. I would rather the entire school didn’t know that my mother left us. Not that I think that you would tell anyone” “Why don’t we go back to my house and you can tell me. That way no one will hear and you will feel more comfortable.” It is a quick threeblock walk to his house. His parents wanted to live within walking distance of everywhere. Not very many people in our part of town drive because everything is so close. “Want anything to eat or drink?” Chris asks as we walk though his house towards the living room. It is a really small house but it is like my second home. His entire family has been so nice to me. The first time I ever came over his mom gave me a huge hug. At first I thought it was really weird. Now I feel like she is my mother figure. He is the first person that has ever asked about my mom. Everyone just assumes that she died. They never took the time to learn the truth. I don’t really mind though because it would be a big if a deal if everyone knew. They would look at me differently. “It was the sunniest day of the year. In Washington we don’t have to many of those. My mom had promised that after work she would take Carter and me shopping for new bathing suits. There was an indoor pool a few blocks from our house. Most of the families on our block are either too old or have really small children so the pool is almost always pretty empty. Carter and his friends are always there, they think that they will get to see some hot girls.” “And did he ever find any?” “Hey, let me finish, then you can comment.” “Okay, okay, proceed.” “Thank you. Now where was I?” “Carter and the pool.” “We lived in the in Washington in the middle of nowhere. There was not really any grocery stores just one humongous mall. We were one of those towns on the side of the freeway, people would stop by the mall whenever they passed. We were a little town since there was a lot of land they decided to build a mall. Everyone worked there, from the old people to the young ‘fresh meat’ as they called the teens. My dad was the owner of the biggest phone company in the town so I got my first phone at the age of 10.” “Lucky I didn’t get a phone until I was like 14 and even then it sucked cause I had to pay for it myself.” Chris was never one of listening when people said to be quiet. “Anyways, my mom was supposed to get off work at 12 and meet us in the food court for lunch hen we would go. After about an hour of waiting I took Carter and we just went by ourselves. Everyone knew me and my family, so we didn’t have to pay they just billed our house. My mom wasn’t answering her phone so I thought that maybe she was really tired and when home to sleep. Shopping with Carter is not fun because he always complains that he is bored so we just got our stuff and I went home, Carter went swimming of course.” “Didn’t you think it was strange that your mom just left you guys there?” “Not really. The mall was only a few block from our house so it was like a second home for us.” “Okay, finish your story it sounds intriguing.” “So anyways. When I walked into my house it is totally silent. I thought that was really strange because my mom was the type of person that blasts music at all times. She even leaves it on when she is a work.” “Didn’t you guys ever piss your neighbors off? I mean when here if you have your music at least one bar too high the police come and give you a warning.” “I don’t even think that this town even had a real police force. I think we just had a sheriff and then the mall cops. The mall cops doubles as police officers but not really at the same time.” “That still so cool that you lived in a small town. I wish I could. They seem so cool. But anyways finish the story.” “Okay so there was no music and I thought that was so weird. I called, ‘Dad is mom home? She forgot to meet me and Carter at the mall to get us our swim suits!’ There wasn’t an answer, but I knew he was home because I saw his bike and car in the garage,” He rarely drove the car. It was just for when he had to go away on trips or when we were going somewhere as a family. Carter and I learned to ride bikes when we were really little, even before 7. “I called for him again. ‘DAD!!!’ That when I heard him crying, ‘Oh my gosh Dad what’s the matter! Did something happen?’ At this point I was really freaking out because you know my dad, he never cries. He is a really strong person, so it takes a whole lot to make him cry so I knew something really bad had happened. ‘Did someone die? Was there and accident?’ ” Telling the story to someone that actually will listen to me was a great feeling. No one other then my family and our neighbor Rose knew what had really happened. “My dad just started crying even harder, ‘it’s your mother she is gone.’ Of course since I was only 13 I thought he meant that she had just gone on vacation. I asked him, ‘What do you mean? Why did she go on vacation without us? Where did she go? Did grandma die?’ I was so confused. He explained that she left for good. I didn’t know how to react, I felt that if I cried it would seem too real but if I didn’t cry then it would seem that I don’t care. He explained, ‘She quit her job yesterday and… and… and while you were at the mall and I was at work she took all of her stuff out of the house and left. Here read this.’ He handed me the letter. Little did I know that it would change my life forever. This is the letter, I always have it with me because I don’t want anything to ever happen to it. I am afraid that if I leave it somewhere it will be lost forever.” I passed him the note. I studied his facial expressions as he read but he had a straight face the whole time.

Dear Family, I know that you might be a little confused as why I am gone. I feel that my life is going nowhere in such a small town. I know that you all love your lives as they are, I didn’t want you rip you from the life we have made for ourselves. Don’t worry when you kids are older I will come visit you and your families. I will NEVER forget you guys and I hope you won’t forget me. I am leaving Elliot my engagement and wedding rings. Not because I want a divorce, because I don’t, but because I know that she had always admired them and I want her to have something to remember me by. I want Carter to have the pocket watch that my father left me in his will, he will have more use of it then I will. I will ALWAYS love you guys!! NO MATTER WHAT! That’s why I left, I didn’t want to hurt you. Love you LOTS, Mom

“Wow Elli, I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do? I feel so bad for you.” Chris says with the most sincere face I have ever seen on anyone. “You know what, I don’t need nor want anything from you. Just your friendship is good for me.” I stand up to give him a huge hug. “Are you sure? ANYTHING!” He says to the top of my head. “Nope I don’t want anything you are the first person to actually listen to the entire story. No one else really cares that much. They all assume that my mom is dead. They never asked me what happened.” “Really, I thought that was a pretty cool story.” “Yep you’re the only person.” “Well I feel honored” he says with a big grin. Before I could speak Chris kissed me, all my problems faded away because I knew that from now on I know that Chris will be there for me no matter what.

Jessica Lancaster

The End of Life Its finally here, a vacation that my dad is coming to. This was the time to see how things were going to be. I stepped out of the car, I can here the waves crashing to shore, and seeing the light how it hits the sand and make it shimmer like crystals. I look out at the beach, there’s a man, looking out at the water. Its my dad. This might be one of the best trips, unless things go wrong. I walk down to the beach, I splashed into the water. I could barely stand in it. I look out at the ocean, I see dolphins flipping out of the water. It felt so peaceful but when things were going so nice, I heard yelling, things breaking, it didn’t sound good. I go to the cabin, my parents are fighting and my brother and sister are right there. My dad stops and burst out of the cabin. “ Dad………. DAD, are you going to answer me.” I yelled. “ What Katie, do you need something.” He said. “ What’s going on between you and mom? You guys have never fought like this before. Its like you didn’t care who you were hurting, you just wanted to get your anger out.” I asked. “ We are just trying to figure some things out, that’s all. We know it wasn’t right to fight like that in front of everyone, it just came out, but we will work on it ok.” He said. “ Ok.” Katie said. My dad and I walk down the beach and the next thing I knew my sister and brother tackled me into the water. It was so freezing cold that I jumped out of it right away. When I rapped my self up in a towel, my dad picked me up and splashed water on to me. Then the war started, I took a bucket of water and poured it over his head, and my dad looked at me. I thought he was mad at me, but then I started running down the beach, and he was chasing me. It was so much fun. It seemed that everything was ok since their fight just happened. It seemed that our family was going to be ok. Even though I’m still mad at my mom for taking us away from my dad, I might be willing to forgive her.

When everyone goes in to get the food to eat, I stayed out side sitting on the sand and looking out at the sunset. It was the most beautiful thing I have seen. My mom brings me a plate of food. “ So I want to talk to you about something.” She said. “ What’s that?” I asked. “ Your dad said you walked in on us when we were fighting.” Mom said. “ Yeah I did.” I said. “ I want you to know that I love your father and nothing will ever change that. Its just that I have been away from him for a long time and I didn’t know how to react.” She said. “ Mom you react by loving him, not yelling at him for never being home, you’re the one that took us back to California and still wanted to be married to him. I know you wanted to be back at home, but you didn’t want dad to give up his job, so you told him to stay.” I said. “ I know I did and I didn’t want him to give his job up, it just wouldn’t be fare to him, and it wouldn’t be fare for me to stay in a place that I wasn’t happy at.” My mom said “ Maybe if you thought about someone besides you and dad, you would see that some of us aren’t happy.” I said. “ Are you telling me that you aren’t happy?” My mom asked. “ Its not that I’m unhappy, its that you took us away from someone we loved and you think we wouldn’t notice because we were to young but we did and we were happy when we were all together.” I said. Everything went crazy, I left to cool down and sat on the beach. My dad came over to me. “ Whats wrong now?” dad said. “ I got mad at mom and now im not talking to her.” I said. My dad left to go find my mom and figure stuff out. As soon as he left, I see my mom, hugging some guy. I got up and walked over there. “ Hey mom.” I said. “ Hey honey, you need something, because im kind of busy.” she asked “ Yeah I do, who is this?” I asked “ Oh this is Adam, he was my high school sweet heart, and I missed being with him.” She said. I didn’t like her answer. My mom is flirting with her ex boyfriend. My heart went into complete shock. I have no idea what is going on. My life is completely going to end. .

Cory Leigh

Fun House A large, bulbous figure sprawled itself along the vast desert in the middle of Colorado, looking among the golden sands as screams, wails, and cheers erupted from the inside of its interior. A flock of people were lining up in, and outside of the tent, the large circus tent becoming an inflamed and somewhatdirty red under the harsh sun of the desert, making it look like an enormous pimple where the puss of lowlife people lined in an out of the freak show. Constant winds and sand buffeted the tent, rattling its metal frame as workers just barely managed to keep it from toppling over. The flowing water of time heals all wounds, but here— only the sands of time can do that— But they choose not to. The various specimens of Lang’s Circus lined up against the wall, their various talents becoming apparent if closer inspection would choose to ensue. Each one of them convicts, orphans, or victims of unfortunate genetic mutations of differing severity, making a name for themselves. All was peaceful until George left, and he was about to see what he had done when he didn’t follow his dream. It was a warm day in the middle of July, with the circus tent collecting all the hot air permeating from the sun, and augmenting it to degrees no simpleminded fool could ever hope to comprehend. Although, despite the fat that it was hotter than the equator being bombarded by pyroclastics and lahars in the middle of a large sleeping bag for ten degrees below freezing, it attracted a lot of attention, which meant big business for Lang and George. George stood there, grasping his cane as it wobbled slightly, helping Lang prepare the performers for their various acts, as they helped each other put on costumes. “How have you been?” George asked sincerely, turning his head towards Lang with a bit of pain in his right leg due to some previous accidents. “It’s been okay,” Lang stated softly, turning away from his from his cohort, George. “What do you mean ‘okay?’” he asked, limping into Lang’s view. “Well, George, things have been going downhill ever since you retired. You were the voice of reason for everyone here, and you let a little accident get the best of you; the only performer whose talent wasn’t obtained by genetic mutations, steroids, or illegally obtained articles.” George was appalled at what Lang had said, not even realizing his hiatus did a lot more than he had thought previously. But, now there was no turning back—seeing as how the most talented performer was demoted to a mere roadie in a matter of seconds. “That’s impossible!” George stated loudly, stamping his good foot. Lang glared at him. “Yes, it is possible, George. And the reason why my Circus is failing is because you couldn’t get off your lazy ass after one simple accident and continue your dream!” “Why are you so angry?” George asked, stepping back from Lang as his longtime friend almost went into a blind rage. “It’s all your fault, George,” Lang stated, “My circus failed because of your hiatus.” “I couldn’t have had that much of an impact Lang, how do you know it’s not your fault?” George replied calmly. “Most of the tickets we sell are to children, children love movement… Your act— juggling provided all of that, and now we haven’t been sold out in eighteen months!” George backed up, and limped towards the exit, looking back at Lang with sorrowful eyes as remorse took over his being. “I am so sorry, Lang… I will come back someday…” he said, walking over to his red pick up truck and driving into the endless sands.

Kevin Marshall

The Shard On the day that it happened I was out enjoying myself at the park in the hot Californian sun. I was enjoying the simple things in life, my family. You can’t get a more simple life than that, sadly that was the last simple day I will have in my life. Clouds blackened the sun and the rain started to pour, so we had to go home. I told my family I would go to the store and buy some more blankets because this storm looked like it was going to last a while. When I returned home I couldn’t hear my kids running around and laughing, I didn’t smell dinner cooking, and I couldn’t see any sign of life. But instead I heard a silence that you could only hear in space. This was the day that it happened; this was the day that my family was murdered. Five months later I heard the doorbell ring at my apartment. I looked through the peephole and it was a cop, I was hesitant to let him inside because I looked like I have been doing drugs and my living room was in ruins. But I had to let him in, he would of just came back later. I was surprised with what the cop had to say, it was great news they caught my families killer. Apparently he left a fingerprint on a shard of glass, a fatal mistake for him. The cop told me that if he is proven guilty he will be put away for life. The cop also told me that I could go and talk to him if I want. I went to go talk to my families killer when I first saw him I wanted to hit him for what he had done to me, but I felt bad for him as well. He was a scrawny man probably around the age of 40, and I doubt he could last a day in jail. I couldn’t believe that his was the guy who did it, I thought they had got the wrong guy. But we all knew it was him we had physical evidence that he was in the house that night. I talked to him for a while and all I was able to learn from him is that he doesn’t remember anything and that the last thing he remembers is cops busting into his house screaming his name. As I was about the leave the jail he called for me and told me that he had something to say. He said “I am sorry I killed your family, I may not remember doing it but If there is all this evidence pointing at me how could it not be me. I wish you can forgive me”. I wish I could of forgave him but he is getting what is coming to him and there was nothing that him or I could to change my mind about it. All that I can wish for is that he remembers why he did this to me. An event occurred today that I never thought would happen. My families killer was found. I didn’t get all the information I would of liked but I can still enjoy the fact that I know who did it and I can finally let go. Maybe now once again I will be able to enjoy the simple things in life.

Brittany Modica

The Broken Road

I never knew I could love someone so much. I remember how I told myself I would never find a love that would or could in fact last forever. Well I did! I would give my life for him if I had to. He is my everything, and without him I would be nothing. His name is Angel. Yes, I know your thinking ‘what kind of name is that for a boy?’ well its true. He is a he. And yes I know his name is kind of little bit girly. But I think its perfect. Just like him.

Keegan Monson

Larissa’s Big Night Out Behind the club, in the alley, you see Larisa is running fast. Michelle follows behind her. You can hear them breathing heavily as the police follow them. It’s late, 2 a.m., and Larissa is trying to find a bush, but also trying to hold down the vomit in her stomach. Michelle, being the good friend she is, follows Larissa. Michelle yells at her, “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! JUST STOP RUNNING! THEY’RE GOING TO CATCH YOU!” Larissa looks behind at Michelle, and then rapidly turns to the bush and vomits. Larissa has alcohol poisoning. Garrett has Larissa’s back. He got the car, telling Larissa to jump in, so he can speed home as if nothing had happened. Garrett skids with the car behind the alley way, where Larissa and Michelle have been running so fast and so far. Larissa is dripping with vomit coming from her mouth. Michelle finally catches her breathes and calmly talks to Larissa. “Everything is going to be okay, Larissa.” Michelle says. Quickly, Larissa replies, “I can’t do this Michelle! This is my life, I don’t want to get caught by the police, and I wish I could know everything would be okay, but I have already messed up my life, and this is what I want my life to be.” She slurs her words, unable to speak clearly, from all the alcohol she has been drinking. Garrett, driving the Chevy, comes behind them creeping up on their conversation. He whispers to Michelle, “don’t tell her what she needs to do; she knows what she wants to do and what is right.” Michelle glares back at Garrett. Then, Garrett leaps out of the car and pulls Larissa, trying to convince her to get in the car with him, knowing Michelle wouldn’t like it. Tears slowly drip down Michelle’s face. Larissa is out of it. She has no control over what she is doing, or what is going on right then. Michelle looks at Larissa with disappointment, she wants to scream. But knows they will get caught. That typical Friday night turned out to be a night to remember, not for the best, but for the worst. Larissa’s best friend, the friend that has helped her through all the dangers in life and all her problems, could be gone in a blink of an eye, because of the stupid mistake Larissa made. As Garrett is still pulling Larissa, her sweating hands, slick hands, smells like vomit, trying to help her. Larissa see’s her best friend, walking away. Michelle, not doing anything wrong, walks away with quiet foot steps. Larissa finally looks over at her, with all her might she tries to spit out “I need you!” but, still… Michelle is walking away, knowing that maybe that night was meant to be. Just then, as Michelle walks in the dark, cold alley, she gets jumped. A big van speeds around the corner, it stops, four big men get out of the van and pin Michelle to the ground. Michelle, fights back, but is not able to control them. They beat her and steal everything she has. In theblink of an eye, they jump back into the van and drive away like insane maniacs. Larisa is on the complete other side of the alley. She runs over and starts yelling “MICHELLE! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!” Michelle lays on the hard rocks of the alley, unable to move, or speak. She is in too much shock to cry, on her back, just trying to breathe. All she wants to do is breathe. Larissa knows this is her fault. She staggers over to her, knowing that her best friend is much more important than her own needs right now. She puts all her effort forth, and pulls Michelle to the back bathroom in the club, cleaning her up. When Michelle is finally able to talk, she whispers to Larissa, “We need each other. We need to be there.” Larissa drips a salty tear on Michelle’s forehead, and Michelle grins. Right then, they both believe they will be there for each other and that they have gone through too much to give it up. Michelle’s getting enough strength to get up and move, slowly sits up and gives Larissa a comforting hug. Larissa, tightly holding her whispers into her in a reassuring voice “Because of you, I am as strong as I am today. Because of you, I am no longer going to smoke, ever.” As those words are put into the world, they become printed on Michelle’s brain. Michelle begins to cry, knowing the impact she has had on her best friend. Believing what Larissa said was true and hoping that this will happen for as long as they both should live. Having enough faith in each other, that they will become stronger than ever before. Larissa picks Michelle up, and holds her arm as Michelle limps out of the bathroom, both as confident as ever. The two girls go back into the club, dance off the night with guys, showing their confidence to the world. Larissa is not drinking and Michelle has faith to be proud and not embarrassed of everything they do together. They move smoothly and perfectly. Though this night was life changing, it was for the better. They are not self conscious anymore, they will not use heroin any more, and they look at each other with the understanding that both know what they have done, was just what they wanted.

Kenny Nguyen

The Act of Betrayal

Larry Berk was 19 when it all started. Born and raised in New York. It happened in2027 A.D., and the world is in a state of chaos. Larry comfortably lived with his mom, the only person he needed, anc with his butler Xiang. His dad had abandoned him and his mom when he was born. Larry thought nothing could get worse than this state of chaos, but he was wrong. At school, Larry tried to be a perfect student, and through school Larry got his best friend. Larry and Jack Miller had been best friends for 6 years now. Larry’s mom died from a suicide bombing that happened, and he couldn’t do anything, no one could do anything, and this was how Larry had began to change. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school, sir?” Xiang asked. “I’ve decided to pursue my interest, Xiang, I’m going to create a device to regenerate cells, so I can actually do something for this world, something that can actually prove of use,” replied Larry. “If that is the case Larry, is there anything I can do to help?” Xiang questioned. “It’s alright Xiang, I already have asked Jack to come and help me,” Larry responded. “If that is what you want, sir,” Xiang said. Jack had arrived at Larry’s house and they had gone down to the basement, where they had started to work on cell regeneration. A few months had gone by, Larry and Jack still worked diligently. Tests after tests, their machine had failed to work, and Larry and Jack were on the verge of giving up. Larry had only 1 thing he wanted, and that was the future, and because of that, Larry seized to give up. A year later, in 2028, it happened. Larry and Jack’s cell generation device had been completed and worked in a trial run. Although the product was small, they could always build a bigger one. “Look at that beauty, Larry,” Jack said. “Yeah…. Who would’ve imagined it,” replied Larry. At that moment Jack made a movement and wrapped his arm around Larry’s necking, while holding a knife. “Well then Larry, I guess I’ll be taking it,” stated Jack. “What are you doing…. Jack?” whispered Larry. “Well you see Larry, I never really cared about what your intention was for making this, all I wanted was the end result, and that is money,” answered Jack. “You don’t have to do this, Larry, we can split the money evenly,” Larry said nervously. “You still don’t get it, do you Larry? The only way I can get away with this is if you were out of the picture,” Jack said, breathing loudly. “Jack, I won’t tell anyone, you have my word,” replied Larry. “I wish I could believe that Larry, but this world is going no where, and no one can change it,” Jack said. “I could change it, we can change it, Jack,” stated Larry quietly. “You’re so naïve Larry, one person can’t change the future,” laughed Jack. “I guess there’s no changing your mind, Jack. But before you kill me, I just want you to know that this won’t work,” Larry said smiling. “What are you talking about?” Jack questioned while strangling Larry. Snap, Crack, Jack heard the sound of his wrist breaking, his wrist bent, still in shock of what just happened. “Owww, what the hell,” screamed Jack in pain. “Looks like you made it in time, Xiang,” replied Larry panting. “Sorry I took my time on that, Master,” Xiang said. “Ugh, what did you do….?” Jack screamed. “Don’t worry Mr. Miller, it’s only a broken wrist. I hope next time you will think twice before trying to hurt Master Berk.” Xiang said. Jack catching his breath and thinking of what to say next he was trapped. “You will regret this Xiang, and you too Larry,” Jack threatened, on the ground holding his wrist. “Jack, you had your chance, but you let greed take over,” replied Larry. At that moment Jack had leaped up and stabbed Xiang in his lower stomach. Xiang had fallen to the ground, incapable of moving. “Xiang!” cried Larry, rushing to his side. “Master.. escape while you can,” Xiang said quietly, losing his breath. “Is this what you wanted, Jack? It’s people like you that makes this world so corrupt!” screamed Larry. “You still don’t get it, Larry? I was using you, I’ve always been using you.” Your dream of a better world is exactly what it is, just a dream!” Jack stated loudly. “You’re wrong, Jack. I will change this world!” Larry said angrily. It was then that Larry charged at Jack and stabbed Jack with his own knife, piercing his heart. Jack had fallen to the ground. “What have I done?” Larry cried, falling onto his knees. “Don’t you see Larry.. you can’t gain anything without sacrificing something. What you are sacrificing is your sanity. You can’t save everyone Larry, and that’s where you are not perf ,” whispered Jack, passing away. “That’s right, I can’t save everyone, but what’s the point of saving people if I can’t save them all?” Larry said, talking to himself. “Master.. I believe that you can do it, now go, move this world into the future and out of this current world,” Xiang whispered. “Xiang, hold on!” Larry yelled, carrying the cell generator towards Xiang and started to use it on Xiang. But soon Larry knew it was too late for Xiang, and lost all hope in him. Xiang had lost too much blood and there was nothing Larry could do. “What’s the point, I can’t do anything,” cried Larry. “Master, do your best in this world,” Xiang said, then stopped breathing. “That’s right… thank you Xiang, now I know what I must do. I need to change the future for this world into a better one,” whispered Larry.

John Nyman Skating The early morning breeze in the air. The grass dead from the summer heat. Two kids sit at the top of a hill. “ I think we should take the right,” says Ryan “ Ya just make sure Jeff remembers what he’s doing and doesn’t get us killed,” Jimmy replies. “ We can only hope.” “ Is it clear!” a simultaneous yell comes from the top of the hill. Jack throws up an open signal. Ryan and jimmy start their decent down the hill. They look like bulls charging at their pray. Their coming up to the right passing the 25mile an hour speed limit. They both grab the side of their boards commencing them into the oncoming turn “ Car,” yells Jack. Both Kids immediately bail off their board trying to catch their momentum by running it out. Amazingly they catch them selves stumbling onto the grass and let them selves fall on there backs. The car’s driver slams his breaks and swerves almost rolling and comes so close to a telephone pole that if you were to stick a dime in between them you would hit them both. For a few seconds everything is still. Burnt rubber fills the nostrils of the kids and they all come back to life start breathing again. “ That was close,” Ryan says. “ Hows the driver?” Ryan asks. “ I think he’s fine,” replies jack. The three kids walk over to the car. They look inside and see the driver with his face in the air bag over the steering wheel. They take him and pull him back off the steering wheel so he’s in a siting up position. They thought he might wake up he doesn’t, they check his pulse its going. “ I think he’s unconscious,” says jack. “ Ya I think so to,” Ryan says. Jimmy,” What should we do?” “ I say we leave him he will wake up and we run to 711 then head to Ryans,” says jack. “ I feel like we should make sure he’s fine,” Ryan says. “ Well if we do that he will call the cops and we don’t want that,” says jimmy. “ I say we take his phone out of his pocket call 911 then ditch it,” Jack says. “ I guess that’s the best choice,” Jimmy says hesitantly. So the three kids unlock his car door slip his phone out of his pocket dial 911 say that there is a guy who is sitting in his car next to a telephone pole and looks to be unconscious. Then very quickly hang up and rush down the hill. Five minuets later they arrive go in grab slurpies pay and sit on the side of 711. While they are sitting outside 2 cops get out of their cars look at them, all three of them start sweating hearts accelerating. The cops take a good look then go in. The kids look at each other and start pushing back to Ryans house. They take off and start back up to Ryans, when Jimmy relizes his phone fell out of his pocket when he bailed. “ We can’t go back the paramedics are there they might think we were there earlier and might have done it,” jack says. “ But if we leave it and they find it they can figure out whose it is and call me in,” Says jimmy. “ We have to go back just be sneaky,” Ryan replies. The three kids drop the boards in a long row of large bushes and run up the hill. Right as they reach the top they have jack look over and see if the paramedics are at the scene. They are. “ Ok Jack were going to have you sneak through the bushes and go and grab Jimmies phone,” says Ryan. Jimmy adds “ If they look over at anytime sit perfectly still and hold your breathe.” “ Ok I will try,” jack says shakely. They go to the other side of the bushes and shove jack into the bushes. He starts his decent to the other side. Halfway through the investigator tthat showed up start searching the crime scene for traces of things. Jack sees that and speeds up reaches the end of the bushes just out of sight. He spots the investigator coming twords his exact spot. Quickly Jack grabs a dead bird and throws it on the side of the bush to distract the investigator. The investigator’s eyes quickly shift from the grass patch to the dead bird. At that exact second Jack grabs the phone and goes back into the bushes. The investigator looks back at the grass spot. Jack sits motionless waiting for the investigator to make a move. He does he pulls out a gun. He yells “ Come out with your hands up or I will shoot!” Jack decides not to he runs twords the other side. The investigator shoots blindly into the bushes. Luckly Jack gets out the other side safely and without being noticed. He returns to Jimmy, and Ryan. Did you get it?” Ryan asks. Jack replies, “ Yes but I had to dodge bullets to get it.” Jack hands Jimmy his phone back. “ What happened?” asked Jimmy. “ The crime scene investigator was walking to the patch of grass where you phone was, so I had to throw a dead bird to distract him, it worked but then when I went to grab your phone he saw a movement in that patch, he then pulled out a gun and open fired, in wich I ran out the other side without him seeing me,” replied Jack. Jimmy,” Dang, dude!” Jack, “ I know but lets get out of here and go back to Ryans. The three boys go down the hill grab their gear from the bushes and speedily pushed to Ryans Very carefully watching the streets for cops. They get to Ryan’s house and call their parents to come pick them up. Ryan goes to bed early that night trying to forget all that happened today.

Alex Ramsey Hoedown Throw Down CR and Joe are at the annual “hoedown throw down” party. The fumes from molding wet clothing filled the room, making it feel almost humid. They are sitting at the bar surrounded by glasses stacked high, each one reflecting the red green and yellow lights towering high above them in the ceiling rafters of the huge lodge. The lights are bright and in their face like a stop light telling them to halt of continue to converse. They flicker to the bellowing bass of the music. A pretty girl sits at the adjacent bar across the room, alone. You can see her thinking as if her thoughts were coming out of her eyes and into your brain. She looks as if she needs company. “Hey Joe, you see that girl over there?” CR says loudly over the raging party. “Yeah, you mean the hottest girl in this room? I noticed her a while ago buddy” Joe says. “Oh yeah I should have known, you don’t think about anything else” says CR. Joe laughs, “You know me man. Anyways, what about her?” “I have to ask her out,” says CR. “What do you mean you have to ask her out?” Joe says confused. “You know what I mean, Joe don’t act stupid. Do you think I have a chance?” “You don’t even know her. Don’t you think it would be a little weird to just go up and ask her to have dinner with you? I like it. Go for it CR.” “Really? You think she would go for it?” “Hey don’t forget our motto, you will fail 100% more of the times you don’t try than the times you do.” CR walks across the room as if he is simply trying to get to the bar. He walks in small slow strides through the crowds, huddled together in packs. He then takes a seat next to the girl and looks over to her. “How come a girl like you is sitting all alone at a party like this?” She turns to him stares him up and down and says, “I don’t belong here.” “What do you mean you don’t belong here?” “I don’t know anyone here and everyone seems to have figured out who is going to be at their…party.” CR can’t help but to laugh at her and then says, “Come join my party. You see that guy over there?” She nods, looking across the room, “He’s my friend Joe and I’m sure he would be happy to let you talk with us.” “Sounds good to me! You’re a life saver…” “CR” “Right, CR. That’s an interesting name you know, I’ve never heard that one before.” CR laughs again, “Why thank you. At least I think that’s a compliment.” CR then takes her hand and leads her across the lodge through the slowly shrinking circles of people strewn across the room. About half way across the room CR looks back at the girl and sees her sitting flat on the floor rubbing her head. He then saw the man that had tripped her look over his shoulder at the girl on the ground and then turn back to the group of people he was talking with. “Hey what do you think your doing?” CR says loudly. The huge college kid with a small growing beard ignored him completely and CR turned furious beyond control. Taking the man by the shoulder he says, “Look what you did to this girl.” They both turned their eyes toward the girl on the ground in a synchronized motion. “Yeah what of it?” The man says in the deepest voice CR had ever heard. “You know what? I can’t just let you get away with being such a horrible person. I saw you trip this girl and then completely ignore her.” “Oh yeah and what are you going to do about it?” The giant man says as he took a step back like he was about to pounce, nearly knocking someone else over in the process. Just like that practically the whole party miraculously organized itself in a bigger circle around CR and the mystery man. Almost instantly the first punch was thrown across the man’s face spinning him around and on to the hard wood floor. He lay there unconscious next to the hurt girl for a few short moments before CR picked of the girl and left quickly out of the frosty back doors. He stood at the back steps with a stern face formulating a plan. CR is afraid now, his night has gone from a normal night to something completely out of the ordinary. He then began to run through the blizzard carrying the girl all the way to his car. His hand shook, reaching for his keys in the freezing wash of wind and snow with the girl in one hand. The key clicked in the lock of the door and CR stopped to shake his head and think of how crazy his night had gotten because he wanted to ask out this girl. He then pulled on the door, having to yank on it again to pull it open; everything was frozen shut. He put the girl in the passenger seat slowly and then let himself into the divers seat to turn on the heat. At that moment she woke up. “How could you do that for me?” says the girl “I don’t know why I did it actually. There is just something about you I guess.” says CR trailing off. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

Ashley Rimbakusumo

Breaking Memories

The evidence of the fire wasn’t as obvious now that the afternoon was drifting into dawn. Gazing at my room windows from the front of my burning home, a flashback shakes my present view. This flashback had included myself, a burning house, and the feeling of regret. Although I had no clue how the fire started, I could assume that I had something to do with it. It seems that I am always causing some sort of trouble every year no matter where I am. Getting a nostalgic feeling inside began to worry me, so I tried blinking to realize that I could never go back in time and change what I did wrong to right. The feeling of being lonely to witness a frightening scene is too much for a normal person to handle, but as for me, dealing with these types of situations aren’t out of the ordinary at all, even for a bit. Deciding that I would just sit and let the remainder of the fire to burn out by itself, I pulled out my rainbow colored binder in search of work, finding nothing but a bunch of white papers covered from top to bottom with writings of ink and pencil. Sensing restlessness creeping up my spine, I gently slid the binder back to its place in my pack and returned my gaze to back my house. Just what could have caused it? Was someone after my family? Could it be that peers from my school are out to get me? Or could it be a sign to show me that living in the past is no longer an option? All of these options seemed quite reasonable, but there was no proof at the scene to commend any of them possible. Noticing a slight unusual bulge coming from the smallest pocket of my backpack, I opened it, to find a book. Not feeling the need to glance at the cover, I sat down on the grass, and opened the book to the very first page. Just as I was about to catch the first word, the pages of the book collapsed one by one in an instant in my hands. A note on white paper came down last, with the words “loser” embroidered all over it. At this moment it occurred to me that my last bit of calmness and sanity disappeared in a flash. I was yanking at my hair faster than a magician taking a bunny out of a hat. Everything seemed like a blur, but I was still trying to clumsily run to a place that seemed fit. Then again, how would I know what kind of place I could fit in? This question has been scratching the scabs off my deep wounds that I’ve been trying to heal, which at this point looks like a bone that would never recover. I closed my eyes, tilted my head in the direction of the sun, and wished for a happier way of life. Thinking that couldn’t have possibly had an affect at all, I opened my eyes to continue my impaired behavior. It wasn’t long before I found myself outside of my driveway. I walked along a trail of grass that kept me from being run over by cars on the road. I saw faces of no recognition, and family filled scenery pace after pace I went. This all reminded me of the happiness that once filled my life years ago. Soon I came upon Yoshi’s house, an old friend from the past. Yoshi and I were like two peas in a pod back in the old days. Both of us had lots in common, and tons of games that we loved to play. From soccer to swimming and tennis, there were endless amounts of fun and happiness. All of which ended when he transferred out of my middle school a two years ago. Though we could still hang out with each other we didn’t because of time. Homework and other chores and activities plugged up all of our schedules leaving us no time to hang out with each other. Making the problem worse, we both had no cell phones or any other way to contact each other, meaning that our only way of communication would have to be in person. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I saw Yoshi. The hair on Yoshi’s head flipped back and forth like waves while he was practicing his soccer skills. It didn’t take me long to realize that Yoshi had changed a lot in just one year. Yoshi was now taller and more muscular. Looking at myself I realized I’ve only changed a little bit. My black hair was still uneven at the ends, and my height was only slightly greater than before. A car suddenly comes rushing past me, through the gate that I’d been peering through. I hear a scream and mocking laughter. I rush over to see Yoshi on the ground and four older boys standing over his body. Yoshi’s body looked more crippled than a beaten sack of flour. I sank to my knees, and sobbed uncontrollably. In that time, I tried convincing myself that I wasn’t a bad luck charm to those around me, but every time an accident occurs it seems that I’m always there, making my judgment false. Soon I heard a voice calling my name. Opening my eyes, I realized that I was still in my front yard lying in a pile of pages. Looking for the owner of the voice I turned around, only to collide with another head. Apologizing first, I looked up to see a surprising face. Yoshi was still alive and well. We both exchanged glances and smiled. Then looking around me, I realized that everything before must’ve been a nightmare. My house wasn’t on fire, instead, it was a mansion. Both Yoshi and I were surprised, but in my mind I knew, “when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.”

Auri RobbinsPhillips Mardi Gras The Audience was screaming, right when the lights went out, and we exited the stage, proud of ourselves at this years Mardi Gras festival. "That was ELECTRIC!" Jimmy yelled. We could all tell he was excited because of his colorful word choice, which was usually as dull as beige. Mardi Gras had officially been rocked, but we still had one problem, Jovers band was up next. Tension rose as his halfwit posse passed us on stage, glaring with cobra like eyes. Sinclair broke the petrification of his band by stating, "Ey you guys think we have a chance? I mean Jover and his lil gang have some good material eh?" "Whatever Sinclair, we rocked that stage and you know it." defended a slightly annoyed Jimmy. "I mean they got that fancy sitar and all ya know?" replied Sinclair. "Don't worry so much." The first words to come out of Pauls mouth all day, funny since he usually talked more than a newly cured mute. "This ones dedicated to Morrowville!", screamed the excited singer of the enemy band. "Real original eh? He uses that one each show he plays, I'm starting to think it ain't a real place." joked Sinclair. "Guys that was awesome!", shouted Anabell as she ran up the corridor connecting the stage and the lobby. "Girl I ain't never seen no 4 minute long trumpet solo, that was some crazy stuff!", replied Sinclair. "Only your cousin Sinclair." Anabell responded in her usual semisweet tone. Everything was silent, and we all stared into the night sky, flooded with multicolored lights and cigarette smoke. "Check, Check one two." "Looks like Jover's band is finally ready." Commented a nervous Paul. With a mischivious look about her face Anabell asked, "So.. If we win, how are we dividing the money?" "There she goes with the money." chuckled Sinclair, almost sarcastically. "Well I would assume we are gonna split it evenly right?" "Of course Paul, we all worked our asses off practicing, besides that I'm just glad were able to play Mardi Gras in good ol Orleans." "Yea, but some extra cash would be good, no?" said Sinclair with a grin. "Well I'd be fine with free gumbo, but money is good too." "And here I though I was mister funny." laughed Paul. "So guys, whats the deal with this Jover dude?" asked the curious Anabell. "Nothing really interesting Ana, he's just this guy we went to high school with, he always sat around playing Greenday songs." "That sounds extremely lame." "Indeed it was. "So does that mean were gonna win for sure?" Anabell pondered out loud. "Well girl, I sure hope so." As sudden as a lightning strike the stage lights flashed on, with an eerie green tint, and stage smoke began rolling around the floor. Quiet notes began to fill the air in a familiar sequence. "Dude..What?" "No way." "What the..." "That BASTARD!" yelled Jimmy. "I'm gonna kill him! "Isn't that one of your old songs?" asked a clueless Anabell. Slowly Sinclair replied, "It sure is, I can't believe they took it, it's rediculous." Everyone was tense as they played the stealithly taunting serenade. "This is ludacris, if they win I don't know what I'm going to do." said Jimmy in a serious tone. "Well don't worry Ami, they ain't gonna win." Sinclair marched away, as if headed to war, but stopped short realizing that the music hadn't ended and he would get in trouble for interupting the performance. After 3 minutes, which seemed like a decade, the music had ended, and the crowd cheered for the melodic lie they had presented on stage, and then they strutted to the back area, toward Sinclair. "So Jover, interesting song you had there." Sinclair said, using good grammar for the first time in a long time. Immediately after the words traveled to the mans ears, he replied in a stubborn voice, "I know, now get out of my way before I make you." The previously enraged cajun individual cracked a grin. "That's funny coming from a lil stubborn rich boy, in my city no less." "Wow Sinclair doesn't usually talk back to people, whats got into him?" asked the curious cousin. "He's pretty mad, I should back him up." "For what Jimmy? Sinclair isn't about to start a fight." "Well maybe I want to." replied the angry guitar player. "So you think you can just rip off our songs Jover? Is that how you do things?" said Jimmy. "Shut up, your just mad because your about to lose!" yelled Jover. Sinclair chuckled lightly, "Kid it ain't losing if it's our song." abruptly the angry Jover threw a punch at Jimmy. As quick as a cheeta Sinclair caught the aggressive fist. "Ey boy, don't be starting any fights." "Why don't you just fight instead of being a punk." said Jover. The expression on Jimmy's face changed from angry to dull, and his lips began to move in a slow, fluent motion. "You’re not even worth it." Startled, Jover quickly shuffled away like a hermit crab on the beach. "That was so intense guys!" yelled Anabell, still partially in shock." "Yea, whats that guys deal anyways?" "Hey man don't ask me, all I know is that he's a little rich kid who looks down on everyone who ain't loaded. The rest of the night was spent listening to various bands and watching lights prance on and off the stage like a fawn in a field. "Hey guys, I think they're about to announce the winner!" "Awesome, I'll go fetch Jimmy." said Paul. The band sat, staring with empty eyes at the announcer of the music festival as he rambled on about the mediocrity of most groups, and the triumphs that took place with individual groups. "When is he going to tell us the winner?" whined Paul. "Shut up man, he's just about to." The announcers voice got louder and more thrilling as he spoke, "All the bands tonight have played amazing music, but there can be only one winner, and the winner is..." the announcer was trying to open an envolope, with no apperent luck. "Ah here we go...And the winner is, The Cajun Grunge Routine! "We did it". said Sinclair.

Daniel Rowbotham Untitled It was a beautiful sunny day at the local skatepark. The birds were singing, the grass was green and everything was good. You could hear the crack of ollies and the tap of boards after a successful trick was landed. You can smell the sweat from the ones who work the hardest. You could hear the beating the ledges took when truck met granite. There was a single oak tree in the center of the park to give it a more natural look and make it feel more like a place to be. There were Many activities to do for everyone that was there. There were baseball fields and basketball courts for the lovers of sports but there was also an open field for the lovers of dogs to tirelessly through the tennis ball hour after hour. The younger children had a state of the art play set and swings to keep them occupied while there protective mothers watched from the side with a coffee cup in hand and concern in their hearts. Last but not least there were public bathrooms for all the young children’s “Oopsies” that they might experience while playing. The skatepark was the hotspot of young teens and almost adults. Even with the occasional smoking and bad language, it was a positive place with nice people and fun times. Ben had been going to this park for as long as he could remember. Since he was 5 years old, Ben had been learning and progressing at this very spot. The park was only a short 1mile ride, downhill, from his home. So every sunny day after school he would come home, grab a snack and cruise down to his local park. On the way there he would see his grumpy old neighbors and the ones that on occasion, would bake him their delicious cookies. You can guess which ones he waved at. He would see dogs and cats and all kinds of suburban animals on his way. They would jump at the fence and try their best to escape even though, in the end, their attempts would be futile. He would smell the beautiful smells of the flowers that were blooming. He loved the daffodils and the roses, chrysanthemums and daisies. He would sometimes get so distracted that he would almost have a full body high five with an oncoming truck which would have resulted badly. So that evening on a Friday night, Ben had been skating with his friends. The air was clear and it was a good 65 degrees. The park was mostly empty and everyone was starting to leave. Larry, the local janitor was starting to make his rounds and pick up the days debris. They were all doing one more trick when they turned to see a shady looking guy trudging towards them. As soon as he got in walking distance, they could smell the foul odor. He approached in his laidback clueless state and asked, “Hey man, wanna buy some DVDs?” After he said that he pulled open his trench coat and they saw 20 or so pirated disks in their own separate packaging. Now Ben, growing up in a very Christian household environment knew what was right and what was wrong. He had learned about this socalled “conscience” in 3 rd grade Sunday school. He had been taught right and wrong from his parents since day one and to stay away from all illegal things, especially drugs. But he and his parents had never had a talk about what to say to strangers. This was probably something they should have talked about a long time ago considering his hangout destination. Ben responded back to him, “No thanks, maybe some other time” But the man was very persistent, “Come on man, just one”. Ben kept saying no over and over again until he was practically shouting. Suddenly the man broke down and started sobbing. The kids looked at him while their faces turned from a look of annoyance and anger to feeling sorry for the man. They walked over to him and stood towering over the slouched figure for a minute or two and then asked, “Sir, what’s the matter?” He stood up and started to explain, “The only reason I am selling these are for my family, my wife is sick and my children have to eat and go to school, They depend on me and I can’t even provide for them.” He broke down crying again as the children’s hearts hurt with compassion. They all looked at each other in dismay and then looked at their feet in silence. Then the man asked them if they would buy a DVD again. Ben replied, “No sir, I’m sorry but we can help you. You don’t need to sell these things when you know it’s wrong to do so, come over to my house for a warm meal.” The man replied yes and then stomped all the movies to little pieces of plastic. They were walking home as Ben thought to himself what a great thing he had done and how good it felt to have been helping this man in his time of need. They had never taught Ben to show compassion in Sunday school but somehow he knew it was the right thing to do. When they got home he went through his drawer and found some old clothes that were obsolete to him and gave them to the man for his children. As he was leaving, he thanked Ben and his family for the most generous gifts of hospitality. They replied with, “Don’t mention it neighbor.” As Ben went to sleep that night he felt like a winner who had helped someone in need. He could still see the smile and the gleam in the man’s eyes as he walked out the door.

Sofia Sanchez

THE DAY TO COME

If someone were to write a book about my life or thoughts they would probably write 96 books, 250 pages each. People would probably not want to read them; most of it would pretty boring. I wonder if there’s a prize or something for world’s most uninteresting book, although I wouldn’t call it a prize. My father liked reading; that’s what he tells me anyways. I’ve never seen him read in my presence. He’s recommended me a large number of books; I’ve read every single one of them. His countenance is indistinct to my memory; it has been years since I last saw his face. Photographs aren’t the same; I just want to touch it his dry skin. “You alright baby?” mom asked. “I’m fine mom, just tired” I replied. Looking out the tinted car window, I see Derek in his cleats and florid cheeks. He looks so much like him. Jetblack hair, strong facial features, bright blue eyes, just like the sea, but on the other hand so do I, we’re twins. I was just three minutes older. He comes running towards us and hops in. “Hey Mom, Alex. Alright, lets go home.” He says with such energy. I wish I were like him, all happy. He always brings a smile to my face. It was 5:43 pm and I was drying my long wavy hair that lacked some trimming. I put it up in a ponytail and went downstairs for supper. I see Derek doing what he does best; make my mom laugh. The phone rings, she picks it up with a laugh and it slowly fades away. Dad. “Yes, you can speak with them.” She says in a low faint voice. She hands the phone over to me; I guess I appeared desperate to talk to him. “Hello?” “Alex? Hi baby! How are you? I miss you.” “Hi dad. I’m fine. How are you?” I said. I couldn’t deny the fact that the sound of his voice made me all warm inside. It’s been four months since I last talked to him. “I’m fine, just missing you guys. How’s school?” “ Ha, It’s going very well, I won a volley ball game just this Thursday! Grades are really good.” I replied. “That’s good, that’s what we want to hear.” My parents have been divorced for over ten years, but they still manage to agree on their expectations for us. They both want us to succeed. “How’s everything over there? You still write your stories?” I asked. My father makes the best stories in the world; I think. At his age, he’s very old to still have the imagination of a child. I don’t know how he does it. “Everything’s great sweetheart, life here is amazing, but I’m not entirely happy. Not with out you guys,” He said. “Yeah…” “But all that is going to change, I want you guys to move in here with me.” He says without even asking if I wanted to move to Romania. “I’m flying in tomorrow, I wanted it to be a surprise but I just couldn’t wait.” “Uhm… yeah, but Dad… I don’t…” speechless. It’s been five and a half years. Almost two minutes of silence and I drop the phone and walk towards the one place I go to rest my mind. An hour later Mom was at my bedroom door, I knew she was standing in front of it, quiet. I could feel her hesitation on knocking at my door. “Come in Mom.” “How’d you know I was going to knock?” she said. I respond with a shrug. She finds me looking out my large window. The scene was of two small children playing hopscotch. One of them had two braids that swung at every jump she made. “ I know it’s shocking that after so long he finally realized what he left. His life.” Mom said. “ I’m finally going to see him, I’ve imagined the day for so long, I gave up on it.” “I know, but life is full of unexpected things, some you can’t be ready for.” She said. God, I love Mom’s advice, she knows exactly what she’s talking about. I want to be like her; wise. “Hmm… you’re right. I’m going to bed now. I love you.” I said, and she kisses me on my forehead, just like always. “I love you too.” I woke up and the day felt… normal. I tilted my head and slowly stood up from my bed. I put on my comfy blue robe on and opened my door. A white paper folded in half float and landed on my feet. “Come downstairs I have a nice breakfast for you. Your dad’s arriving at 2:00 pm.” Love You! Mom xo Dad. Now I remember. I went to the kitchen to find omelets, hash browns, chocolate chip pancakes, orange juice and syrup. My favorite. I served the wonderful breakfast on a big plate like a little kid on a buffet line and devour the food. That morning I ate like I’ve never eaten before. Derek stared at me while I put chunks of food in my mouth. “You’re hungry huh?” he asks in a weird face. “Mhm is is guh.” I said with syrup all over my face. “You excited.” He asked. I nodded and gulped down the large pieces of breakfast food combined. I felt them go down my esophagus. “This long…” Derek said as if talking to himself. After breakfast, after chores, after showers, after getting dressed; Mom drives us to the airport. Time is rapid when you’re enjoying a moment or need it to be slow, but slows down as much as possible when you need it to go by real fast. It was the longest hour of my life. Every second felt like a minute, and every minute felt like and hour. We finally arrive and Derek and I hold hands as we enter the airport. The heat of our hands joins and produces sweat. “You nervous?” He asks me. “Very.” I said I can’t wait to finally get to be in my father’s arms, where I belong. Where I should’ve been these past few years. Feel the warmth of his body, the drumming of his heart. We finally heard the lady over the intercom. “Flight 192, Romania has arrived.” My heart beats faster and faster and faster as I see the crowd of people show up and smile at their families and friends. No… not him. No… No… No…. No… There he was, with a streak of grey on the left side of his hair. Glasses, a suit, and a great big smile; my dad.

Annie Schlachter

The Day I Grew Up

We were in our old, rusty Voltswagen bug. My mom was driving, my dad was in the passenger seat, and I was sprawled across the back. There was too much traffic and to make matters worse the streetlights were out because the power had gone out. A slight breeze was in the air and it was pouring down rain. I could see the raindrops pounding on the cement and then disappearing into the air. The window was down a bit because the car had a strange smell of sour milk and rotten food. I was listening to my Ipod because I was getting nervous. I didn’t know why but I just had a bad feeling about something. My mom looked back at me, so I took my headphones out. “I just don’t see how you think sneaking out is acceptable Meg!” My mom screamed at me. “I don’t Mom! I wasn’t thinking and I wanted to go hang out with my friends on a Friday night! Is that so bad?!” I knew this was going to be a bad fight, one of the fights where I lose my voice when we are done. Then my dad jumped in, “You could have asked, Megan. Nothing good comes of sneaking out. EVER.” “Where did you even go? Did you go to one of those nasty, unsanitary clubs?!” my mom said. “Of course I didn’t, Mom. I just went over to Haley’s house for a bit,” I answered. Then my mom said, “Well, I hope you had fun because you’re grounded, for a month.” “WHAT?! That’s not fair mom! I HATE YOU!” I put my headphones in, then put my hands to my face, then my face to my lap and started crying. A few minutes had gone by and I decided that I would apologize to my parents, so I took my hands away form my face, to see a huge, black truck, come flying at us. My mom screamed and my dad jammed on the breaks, and tried to swerve out of the way. It wasn’t enough though and the truck slammed into us! “AHH!” I screamed as the car went to a jerking halt. My body went flying forward hitting my forehead on the back of my dad’s seat. There was another car smashed up against our hood. Everything started happening so quickly “Ouch!” I said, and then looked up at my parents. Their airbags had exploded, and the whole car was covered in a thin layer of dust. I noticed that they weren’t moving at all. “Mom?! Dad?!” No answer. I noticed the blood dripping down my dads arm and I didn’t know what was happening. I was in complete panic. I didn’t know what to do. I reached for the door, opened it and dashed out. I ran to the sidewalk, and I saw the emergency cars turning around the corner as the lights flashed on. People were gathering around the car now, and I couldn’t comprehend any of this. Three medics rushed out of their car and over to ours. Two of them ran over to our car and flung the front doors open. The other one came to me and said, “Are you okay?” “Yeah I am, but, what about my parents, I, what happened to them? Are they going to be okay? Are they still alive?” I frantically shot all these questions at him and I don’t think he understood me because the answer I got back was, “Just stand here, we will get everything sorted out in a few minutes.” Then he sprinted over to the car so assist the other two men. My parents we unconscious, and men managed to drag them out of their seats and onto the stretchers. They attached breathing masks onto there face and slowly pushed them over to the car. I couldn’t stand to follow them; I was in too much shock to do anything. So I just stood there. Waiting. Thinking. Not knowing what was going to happen next. Today, is my 18 th birthday. My parents did in fact die in the crash the occurred one year, 4 months and 19 days ago. I still haven’t let go of them, and what they have given me thorough my life. I am driving to the court house now though to get the deed to the house, considering as I’m 18 now and my parents left the house to me in their Will. The day of that accident, I finally got the courage to go to the hospital to see what was wrong with my parents. I remember asking the lady at the front desk, what room they were in, and she told me. 427. That was the room that my parents died in. Maybe it was God’s fate to have him let me see my parents one last time before they passed away, because as I stepped into the room my mom said in her very shrill voice, “Megan, I love you. Always have, and always will.” I turned to my dad in the bed next to her and he said, “Megan, I love you too, I’m sorry.” I whispered back to them, “I love you guys,” Then, they closed their eyes, and their heart monitors went blank. I sat down onto my mom’s bed, and started crying. That is all I remember of that day. The rest is a total blur to me. I love my parents, and I always will, and I know that there is nothing I could have done to stop the crash that day, but I feel guilty in some sort of way, like there was something, anything I could have done to have avoided that crash…

Michael Tekle The Mystery It was the end of school and me and will, we couldn’t wait to get home. We had just beaten the Jefferson high school in a competition. I couldn’t wait to go home and tell my mom what had happened. Getting off the bus the rain started to pour we ran home. My Moms car was there as usual, I couldn’t wait to go in there and tell her. Will says, “ What do you think your mom is doing.” I said, “ probably cooking or doing the dishes.” To my knowledge this is what she should’ve been doing. We went into the house and there was no one there. We went upstairs and checked the bathroom and no one was there. I just assumed my mom had gone to the grocery store. So will and me decided to play videogames while we waited. Then something weird happened. I got a phone call from a random person and when I picked up and said hello he just hung up the phone. I decided it must have been the wrong number. A few hours had passed and my mom still hadn’t come home. I still wasn’t worried and decided to go for a walk. Will and I walked to the park and hung out and talked. We noticed a strange person the whole time but just thought it was something not to get worried over. When we went back it was about eight so I assumed my mom was home. When we went inside I heard the shower on then out of nowhere we here a scream. I rush upstairs to see what was wrong and I found my mother on the blood on here noise. She wasn’t dead but she was unconscious. Then out of the corner of my eye I see a man jump out of the window and I tired to get after him but he was gone. I decided to care for my mother instead. I called 911 and the police came. They tried to interview me but I wasn’t much help. Officer says, “ What did you see.” I say, “ I hear a scream and run upstairs and see a man run out the window but couldn’t see him.” Officer says, “ That’s all.” I said, “ Yea that’s all.” This couldn’t have been any accident. The phone my mom disappearing, that man, and her getting hurt. My mom was in some serious trouble and it was up to me to find out. I knew she had gotten in with the wrong people so it was time investigate. So I tried to remember the face of that old man, but I couldn’t. So I went back to the park and the men is gone. After searching everywhere and visiting my mom I go home. I look at the phone and there was a message. Tell your mom that she will pay for what she did and she better watch out. Don’t try and come look for us because you wont find us. You know what you did it was suppose to be us. I was lost I had no idea who did it and if I would ever find out. The hospital told me that my mom was awake so I visited her. I asked her what happened and she told me not to do anything. These people were crazy. After begging she told me where they were and I went to the location. When I got there a sign said no longer here relocated. I lost them. I will never know the mystery of my mom.

Alex Tien

The Concurs It was winter; the snow was like a consecutive flash. It was right by my school. I was 21 years old. My friends and I were practicing out instruments out instruments out in the snow. Our music, trio were blending it seemed that, it was almost time for our solo performance. Out fingers were cold; I knew it was a bad standing out in the snow. It was time to go in the theater. It smelled weird; it was like the scent when you’re in a dentist office. I got ready for my performance, it was nearly 30 minutes before we start our performance I wasn’t nervous at all, I was calm. I say that my friends were looking and acting a little nervous. One of my friends Jack approached me and said. “Are you ready for your performance?” “Of course I am, I don’t get nervous that easily,” I said. I got our mouthpiece and left. I decided to warm up in a room since my fingers were still freezing when we’re outside. I than heard a knock on the door It startled me a little since this was a little spot up on the top floor. It was nearly five minutes before our performance. None of my friends seemed to be nervous at all. I also thought it was strange because about 30 minutes before I left to warm up they seemed little nervous. The audience was loud, they were all taking and I assumed they’re talking about who would win this first part. Now it was nearly two minutes before it starts. I looked around making sure everyone was here because out teacher asked me to check on everyone if they’re ready. I was pretty sure everyone was ready except my fried Jack. He was gone, nowhere to be seen. I was though of where’d he would go because I know he wouldn’t leave right before his performance. He was the first person to perform. I asked everyone to search for him. I asked our teacher to let someone go first until we find him. We searched everywhere we even went outside in the cold, until these three music students were talking about locking up Jack in a room. I suddenly knew that I must find him. I knew that there was a spot all the way near the roof. I suddenly thought that he was definite up there. I went upstairs a there a huge closet. I opened the closet and saw Jack just sitting there. I wondered why the closet wasn’t locked but anyway I talk to Jack and I told him to hurry up and get ready for his performance. It was almost my turn to perform It was right after Jacks performance. He ended with a big loud note. I knew then that it was my turn. Jack cheered me on and I headed out to the stage. Everyone was staring at me. I wasn’t easily stage frightened. I lifted up my trumpet and played a smooth and loud note.

Deven Waller

Painted faces The soft green light hit my face, it was shining through the canopies of the high trees surrounding us. Othello and I spent our best moments here searching for fairies and floating boats down the small creek we called golden river; thusly named for the shine on its surface from the light above, even more so in the fall when golden leaves flooded its small surface. The sound of the creek’s gentle passage made its way into my mind and sent me into a drifting daze. The warm rock was inviting and Othello was content with reading his newly aquired Harry Potter book. So I allowed the sandman to do his work. I fell into a tunnel and rapidly I was pulled to the light at the end. I saw my father’s studio flooded with light and his paintings surrounding the studio all melting, their colors blending together into a river of vivid color at his feet. My father was in the center of the room, his face was blurred and his arms were spread out to hug me. His voice calling my name. I reached out for him but he was pulling away each step I took another two he went back all the while him calling and reaching for me. I was disturbed by a smell like that of ash and smoke. I awoke to a feeling of an earthquake or a jackhammer. My head was thumping and my body unable to keep still. It was Othello’s small hands shaking me violently, his voice screaming “Wake up Esther Hurry get up!” He said it in such a horrifying way, his tone like that of a crying child that all that remained of the dream left and I was transported back to reality. His eyes were wide and his face pale, his shirt pulled up to cover his mouth and nose. Over his shoulder I saw the cliff hanging over like it always did, but there was a trail of smoke floating above the high trees. The air was thick and I struggled to breathe. Panic flushed over me like a wave. There were only our two houses on the hill it was either Othello’s or mine. I prayed to god, “ Please Let it not be my house please god”. I promised to Him that I would start going to church every Sunday and would always follow my parent’s orders without question. I would do anything but please don’t let my house burn. It was not that I was being selfish and worrying about material things. It was not that I wished my new friend to have his new home burned down. It was that inside still was my father, overcome with a strong fever. My heart went rapid making a constant drum inside head. I thought it would leap out of my chest if it continued. A burst of power shot through my veins, adrenaline and an instant I pushed Othello over and made a dash to the hill. I climbed up the steep incline covered with thin tall trees and roots sticking out every way. My foot snagged under a hidden root and I face planted onto the harsh terrain. The side of my face bashing into the devious sister root of the one that knocked me down. Their teamwork was flawless and I came to my knees with my head traumatized and bleeding. But it was only a faint shadow of the panic ahead. I raised myself to my feet and continued my rigorous ascent, falling several times till I reached the top. There it was, my house in a blazing glory. All my happiness burning away along with it. It was strange the wind through the trees went still and the sun still shined gently though it should have gone pale and dark to match the mood it all felt. The sight of it was too disturbing and vicious that I began to fall backward towards the abyss I just succeeded. Othello crept behind me and pushed me forward back to a safe place away from the edge. But closer to the hell in front of me. My sight was hindered with the haze from tears drenching down my face. I searched for his room but only found a splash of brilliant orange and red. I broke into a run towards the pyre that now was my house. However Othello was much too fast. He grabbed my arms and pulled me back to his chest. Encasing me with his soft bare arms now tattered and torn. Now that I think on it, it was probably me pushing him back that left such trauma on his arms. I thrashed my arms about harshly hitting his. There was one blow to his ribs where he began to loosen his grip. I saw an opportunity, but before I even got the chance I was back in his hold. His embrace was tight as he told me at least a hundred times that he was sorry. I realized there was no point to run now that my house was a burning hole of sparks. The air was so strong with the stench of smoke I choked as I breathed. I fell to my knees beginning to shake uncontrollably, it seemed my adrenaline had died out and all that was left was a hollow feeling, not yet able to understand what had just occurred. I started seeing his face, his glowing face that was missing in my dream. His amber eyes and wispy hair. His gentle tilted smile. Then I saw it all burning, everything burning. My loving father now dead and gone. The fire continued for an hour or so burning everything within, leaving only death and ash behind. My mother hadn’t been there when it happened, she was off to France on a business trip. In her place Aunt Margaret my mother’s sister was there to look after us. But the one time I needed her, the one time she should have been there she wasn’t. She was off shopping with the money we paid for her help. Apparently the cause of the fire was a candle she had left lit in her room. My mother was called in the middle of a meeting, and I was told she broke down in front of all the buyers she was selling his art to. Until she returned I was to stay with Othello and his parents whom I had gotten familiar and close to over the few previous months. Othello was the combined replica of both of his parents Oliver and Margaret Roslin. He had his father’s flaxen hair that floated in the air, and his mother’s soft carmel eyes resulting ina very gentle face. Margaret was like a second mother to me since my mother was gone most of the time on business. Me and my father would often go over across the street to spend evenings with them. Oliver and Margaret were also very artistic people that were open to many things. My father appreciated their similar interest in creative expression and their down to earth philosophies. They had opinions on every subject and wouldn’t hesitate to speak on it. They were also a young couple like my parents. I assume because our likeminded parents we ended with rather unique names, like Esther and Othello. “Othello, where are you?” Oliver questioned around the corner “Here, Dad, over in the living room” Othello responded leading Oliver into the room. It was a month or two after living with the Roslins. “I wanted to show you this photo of your mother, it was when she was your age. Here have a look.” He handed out a faded photo of a cute little girl with locks of dark hair. She was smiling at the camera with some frosting on her nose and confetti in her hair. “This was her 8 th birthday see the cake?” There in the back was a large white cake with a number 8 sticking out. All around were other kids playing games. “Where you find this?”. “ It was in an old box in the attic I found a lot of other pictures too.” He had much enthusiasm in his voice. His eyes fell on me and he flashed me a brilliant smile. “Hey, Esther ,want to help?” I was startled with the sudden acknowledgement especially since I had no clue what he was talking about. I looked to Othello for an answer and he gave me the same clueless look. “ Its Margaret’s birthday in two days and I was thinking the two of you could make her a collage out of the pictures and I would make the frame.” “What’s a collage?” I asked feeling stupid. Oliver had come to us on Thursday with a request. It was to be Margaret’s birthday on Saturday, and he had found a box of old pictures in the attic. With the pictures he wanted us to make a collage, he would make the frame. We spent the two days working in secret, Oliver and Othello telling stories to each other to pass the time. When the day finally came they got up early to make breakfast for her. I was asleep when I heard her screams of delight upon waking to a warm breakfast. They gave her the present and another gasp emerged from her room. I went to investigate. They had begun to sing the birthday song and when they finished she gave the two a large hug. “This is so lovely thank you so much.” She said with joy. “Esther helped” Othello added. “Where is she?” “Asleep, as we should leave her. It looked like she was having a nightmare last night when I checked on her.” It seemed Oliver still worried about me. “ Oh that poor child. Let her come when she’s ready….well then boys where should we go?” I retreated back to my room with a feeling of not belonging. I realized this was a temporary home and I was not part of the family. Yes they may care about me but the only reason they took me in was pity. When my mother finally came to me her eyes were bloated and her nose red and dripping. When she spoke her voice was husky and cracked in the middle of sentences. Her clothes were dirty and wrinkled and her lips chipped and dry. She looked to me but didn’t talk; only to the adults did she talk. She left as soon as she came without a hello. They said she needed some time, my mother, that she was overwhelmed. They said she loved me but I would be staying with them for a while. They didn’t give their reasons. But I heard them say behind a door one night that “She wanted to be alone”. My last few days in their home were wasted, spent on stubbornness and frustration. I had gotten into a fight with Othello over nothing and refused to make up, even if it was my last few days with him. I realized later that was the last I was to see of him for a long while and I blew it without a goodbye. It took her several months until she came to get me. When she arrived she looked rejuvenated like an entirely different person, at her side was a man, and in her belly was my sister.

Ms. Harris Period 5

Table of Contents:

Riham Abdalla John Daniels Aaron M. Feagin Johann Gascoigne Marcus Harris Sara Hezbom Johnson Jones Sage Kay Kielan Lemoine-Kowalski Keegan Lockler Tyson Maine Surafel Mamo Misty L. McElhany Ronel Nanhthaseng Asma Noray Konrad Otani Erica Pan Michael Rodolf Mickinzi Serles Nicole Sharrratt Ravi Singh Michelle Smith Joseph Uchytil Steven Vederoff Kingsley Watkins Anna S. Williams Nicholi Wytovicz

Riham Abdalla

Untitled “Come on we have to go, there’s no time he’s going to be here any second” my mom yelled. My mom and dad have been divorced since I was born. They’re always fighting when my dad came over to take me by force. Every time he would come to take me from my mom he would fight and hit her. It was really bad seeing her cry I don’t know what will happen if he takes me from her, I might die if he treats her like that I don’t know what he would do to me. I have never actually talked to him I only hear what my mom says about him and I see what he does to her and from the things she said he’s what I see in my mind. “Come on he’s coming I have a feeling” my mom kept yelling at me. We were packing our stuff we were going to Idaho where my mom’s family lives. They are really a family they would protect you from anything no matter who your running from they will protect you. So we drove to Idaho, my grandpa was waiting for us in the airport him and my cousin Duff. “Welcome Ann my grandpa said while giving me a hug I haven’t seen for 6 years” “Hi dad how are you and how’s mom?” my mom said “She’s fine darling she waiting for you at home with your aunt Alex and her husband Erick, this is Duff he’s your aunt Alex’s son” Grandpa said smiling and holding Duff in his arm. Duff looked like he was 12 but he was actually 9 he looked older because of his body and how tall he was. While driving my grandpa looked at my mom, my mom was crying in a silent way “What’s wrong honey?” my grandpa asked “Nothing dad “ “Honey I know when there’s something wrong with you you’re my daughter I know you more then anyone else, so what’s wrong?” “Jack wants to take Emily from me” “Now he wants to be in her life, where was he the past 13 years?” my grandpa said in a really furious voice. “I told him the same thing, he said that he wants to be a family now because were all we have since he lost his job and home.” My mom said “And after I told him we’re better of with out him he started to hit me and pull my hair” “How can he do this who does he think he is?” my grandpa said very furiously “Now he wants to take Emily from me in the court and prove that he’s a better parent then me and that he’s been taking care of her and that im the abusive one in the so called family of his” “What are you going to do?” My grandpa asked “Im just going to go to court and let Emily decide who she wants to be with”

John Daniels The Night As I pulled into my driveway after coming back from the bars with my friends on a dark Saturday night I noticed that my wife Alice was already home when she said she was working late tonight. As I walked up the stairs and opened the front door Alice was already in the doorway. I asked “why are you home so early?” Alice answers I’m leaving you because you’ve have changed since the hall of fame induction last year. Since then I have been home more and have been spending time with the kids taking them to the park and doing the father thing. I have also been buying her everything she wanted. As I peered around the living I could name off about 100 things I have gotten her like the new lamp and dinning room chandelier that made everything in the house shine. Alice yells violently at me and says “money doesn’t matter” and it’s not the reason that she married me. It was my heart and companion at playing football and now that it’s out of my life I have turned into a complete jerk. As we keep yelling back and forth my 7yearold son came out of his room and was crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said he had a scary dream. I went up to his room to show him nothing was wrong and I turned on his nightlight. Helping David made me I completely forgot about Alice and I told him that we where having a little fight and he needs to go back to bed. As I walked away I went in front off Alice and she spit on my coat and threw her wedding ring on the ground and went into our room and started smashing things in the bedroom and I’m sure she’s just trying to pack her bags. I got so angry that I went into David’s room and woke him up and went into his closet and got some spare cloths and I carried him out the door and we got into the car and drove out into the night. Hopefully she will calm down by tomorrow and I will be back tomorrow.

Aaron M. Feagin

Untitled “Wyatt why are you so uptight?” James pouted for the fifth time today. “Because I need to find that truck” Wyatt barked. “But really is it that important that you get a coconut Italian ice with lemon?” “Yes, James that’s the one that she asked for.” “My feet are burning” James whined. “Well I told you to put on sandals before we got onto the boardwalk, cant you see the heat rising?’ “Well yeah I can but I didn’t think it would be that hot.” The sun was about high in the sky indicating that it was about noon it beet down on the boardwalk drying everything in its path, frying are feet sizzling every step we take. As we pass New jersey Avenue, I look down the street and I hear the siren of the truck. “Quick there it lets get it Wyatt!” “No its ok its going to fast, lets meet it over at first street that probably where its heading.” “Ok but you know First Street I a tourist trap?” “I know but.” I mumbled. “You know what?” James said feeling confident we would turn around. “Fine your right lets wait until it heads back are way” I said feeling disappointed. “Besides my feet are aching lets get into the water” James said. “Wyatt how about that truck I bet they got it?” “No that Mr. barks truck you know he don’t like us after you dropped that sponge bob vanilla super ice cream bar onto the wheel of his truck.” “Well it’s not my fault that the stick broke” James said with confidence. Besides who will really remember a thing like that?” “James I swear you have the worst memory ever it was only last week.” “Really well it seems like ages ago” James said as we where back at New jersey avenue as I looked down I saw something new it was a neon red bench with a cement block and a new silver chain holding it down so It wouldn’t get stolen. “Hey James have you ever seen that bench before? It wasn’t there when we walked by last time.” “Nope I reckon I haven’t seen it before. Where you think it came from?” “Huh that is strange oh well maybe the heat is getting to us.” “Wyatt why you always blame everything on the burning sun.” “Know what James your right why don’t I blame it on your short term memory?” “You know I don’t got a short memory span its just time seems to stay still for me during the summer because of this beating sun and long days.” “Oh and who is going on blaming the sun now?” I said. “Hah aver funny, why don’t you plan on becoming comedian?” “gosh James never herd that one before” I said sarcastically.

Johann Gascoigne

A gluttonous guard and food The feast was finally here. The side doors of the famous mile long king’s hall swung open with a loud bang, the cooks started to bring in the food, first roast buffalo with luscious brocolli heads dipped in gravy, seared veal patties, roasted chicken inside a goat inside a boar inside a buffalo, zebra side filled with squash, pika with delicious stuffing, rabbit eyes fricasseed with kangaroo arms, lamb leg with rosemary and roasted potatos, mutton soup, ground ibex in a red tomato onion sauce, roasted javelina with an apple stuffed in its mouth, blue river hog in a stream of al pesto sauce, hornless barbequed caribou, dormice dipped in honey, piglet on a skewer, duckling in orange sauce, venison stew, moose dripping with fat and spelt bread, antelope pot roast with assorted herbs and spices, giraffe with Klatchian extreme sauce, orangutan surprise, chimpanzee without the chimp, monkey brain pie, beaver cake, Demean pig al dante, nutria on a spit, whale and beef pie, walrus sandwich with lettus, carrot stuffed seal, elephant cakes, rhinoceros sausage, seared camel ribs, llama stomach, pronghorn legs, goose with live birds, quail and gold grains, ostrich wings in Wowwow sauce, Demean fowl with tortilina, pheasant based in oil and slowly roasted, grouse pizza, partridge in pear and quince pescatora, prime braised pigeon floating in alfredo sauce, unicorn hoofs in jelly, preserved turtle, pickled lizard, snake eggs, seared bear steak, boiled crocodile, fried alligator brains with diced frog legs dipped in batter, kingfish wrapped in pastry and covered in gravy, Wesnoth sea urchin stomach, smoked pork with cold cheddar on the side, turkey with sausage stuffing, chicken and duck patê, beef and bacon and turnip pie, sliced baked carrots in mashed potatoes, head cheese, banana and pork roast, wine braised chuck roast with onions, salmon stuffed with caviar, smoked tuna, bass on a stick, flounder boiled in milk, garlic pot stickers with mackerel, catfish, and albacore filling, boar roasted over an open fire, fresh goat ribs, bear stew with assorted spicy food, barramundi in mint sauce, blue cod based in warm beer, bluegill and fricasseed beetroot, butterfly fish eyes with carp stomach and cobia liver, rare carp fin soup, clawfish claws, fried dory in batter with roasted flounder sprinkled with flathead and flatfish chunks with a layer of diced gilder fish, small gourami in a giant gilthead bream, ostrich brains mixed with golden dorado, ground fish chunks, haddock on a platter, hake stuffed in dragon tail, sauté halibut, wafer like moon fish, pickled herring, burnt kapenta, over done kingklip, lyonnaise lemon sole, barbequed largemouth bass, hard boiled mahimahi, grilled marlin, just milkfish, experient monkfish, burned mullet, candy like orange roughy, medium pan fish, roasted pegasus, steamed perch, seared pomfret, toasted pilchard, welldone pufferfish, finished paddlefish, experienced plaice, parched quoy fish, poached (by the best poachers)redfish, painless red snapper, analyzed rock fish, batterfried round herring, softboiled sardine, treated scrod, hot sea bass, rareroasted seer fish, hard baked shad, boiled shrimp fish, sautéed silver carp, au gratin skipjack tuna, snake skin gourami, processed snapper, deepfried snook, surf sardines. The doors slammed shut. The doors opened. The roe came out on giant trolleys, caviar wrapped in seaweed, ikura, kazunoko, lumpfish, masago, shad, tobiko, followed by boiled shellfish, crab in whale fat, lobster tails in lemon, shrimp fried in soy sauce and ginger, full prawns and abalone in clam chowder, cockle, conch, cuttlefish, mussel, octopus, oyster, periwinkle, snail, squid, scallop, and an assortment of strawberry, Dashnak nut, wheat, coconut, walnut, pea, bean, peanut, hazelnut, rice, barley, truffles, and Portobello mushrooms salad. Even more food came porridge with sliced peaches and honey, sausage, steak, chicken eggs, duck eggs, turkey eggs, swan eggs, watermelon and grape salad, kiwifruit, apples, peach, nectarine, pepper, bell pepper, salt, sea salt, bokchoi, blue berry, raspberry, milk, cheese, orange, lime, lemon, coffee, beer, ale, barleywine, bitter ale, mild ale, pale ale, porter, stout, cask ale, stock ale, fruit beer, lager beer, bock, dry beer, maerzen beer, pilsner, Schwarz bier, sati, small beer, wheat beer, wibier white beer, hefeweizen, cauim, chicha, cider, huangjiu, kiliju, kumis, mead, palm wine, perry, pulque, sake, sonti, tepache, tonto, tiswin, wine, fruit wine, table wine, sangria, sparkling wine, champagne, fortified wine, port, Madeira, marsala, sherry, vermouth, vinsanto, absinthe, akvavit, arak, arrack, cachaca, gin, damson gin, sloe gin, kaoliang, maotai, mazcal, ogogoro, ouzo, palinka, pisco, rakia, rum, slivovitz, soju, tequila, vodka, whisky, bourbon, scotch, brandy, armagnac, cognac, damassine, himbeergeist, kirsch, poire Williams, williamine, zwetschgenwasser, honey melon, soufflee of small fishes, pear soufflee, seafood fricassee, apricot, green and baian beans, chicken a la fronto, chicken with liquid filling, boiled eggs, and fried veal and yams. I looked down. The king was dead.

Marcus Harris

The Old Shipyard “Honey I’m going to the shipyard with Colin I’ll be back around 10 okay.” Aaron said to Niki. “Ok baby I’ll see you when you get back have a great time.” Niki replies to Aaron. As Aaron goes across the countryside the mountains start to get larger and larger as he hears the lightning crackle in the air while the large shipyard that is musky and old comes up. The smell of the rain just before the rain comes soothes him his anticipation makes him shudder, as he knows this is the day his business with his brother was about to start. As he arrives at the shipyard he knows that he has four minutes left to chose two ships while the sale is still going. “ Hey big bro over here I think I found one.” Colin yells to Aaron. “Ok I’m coming go look for another one remember we need two ships Colin two of them not one ok.” Aaron yells at Colin. “Ok I’m going don’t you bitch to me.” Colin angrily yells at Aaron. “Well get going then.” Aaron yells while looking over the ship he thinks wow Colin is so immature he doesn’t see how there relate what so ever. He likes the ship purchase’s it and goes looking for Colin while thinking about the funky smelling air here he hates it he think it needs to be cleaned like the city was. “Man Colin where are you.” Aaron yells in the air. “Aaron over here I think I found the perfect one.” Colin yells to him with some anger in his voice. “Why are you so angry Colin?” Aaron yells back just realizing that it’s been two minutes and he has three minutes left to get the ship before they go back to the original price just as Aaron turns the corner Colin jumps on him yelling “ Why don’t you treat me with the same respect I treat you.” With the taste of garbage from the old shipyard in his mouth Aaron starts to suffocate while under Colin’s weight. “ Why do you always treat me like dirt compared to you.” Colin said to Aaron. Aaron pushes Colin off as he does Colin slugged him in the face. The thunder and lightning go off and it starts to rain violently. “ We need to stop this before we lose the deal we can talk about this later.” Aaron said to Colin. “No we deal with this now.” Colin throws another punch at Aaron, but Aaron stops it and punches Colin in the gut. “ I’m finding a ship Colin if you get in my way again I will fight you and beat you.” As Aaron picks the last ship he goes to get his bike when he gets jumped. “ Colin I told you I’m not going to fight you anymore.” “ We aren’t Colin.” A group of people said. “ Aaron where are you I’m sorry about what I did. Colin yells close to Aaron. Just then Aaron herd a thud and someone fall to the ground then the garbage taste of the shipyard went into Aaron’s mouth and he heard Colin yell. ”Who’s next I’m going to keep knocking you down until I know Aaron is safe.” Just then it went black to Aaron as he came to Colin was over him with the look of worry on his face. “Aaron are you alright?” Colin asked to Aaron. Just then the bell went off in the shipyard that said. “The five minute sale is over I repeat the five minute sale is over.” The speaker announced. “Aaron did we get the two ships for our business in time?” Colin asked. “Yeah we did Colin.” They leave the shipyard behind with the ten guys lying unconscious. They leave remembering this for al long time. Only Colin doesn’t know that Aaron has a video of what happened that he keeps with him through the dark days to come.

Sara Hezbom The Sneak Out It was getting late and my friend Veronica and I have been waiting for the biggest party of the year that’s tonight. It was a nice sunny day at my house but then we kind of started getting ready late for the party. Veronica had on some black leather boots with skinny jeans and splattered looking shirt. I was wearing red/black/white nikes with black skinny jeans and a red hip – hop looking shirt. My hair was straight while Veronica’s was curly. We had about 5 minutes until we had to leave, and we had a lot of stuff to do. So I started with yelling at Veronica since she wasn’t done getting ready yet. “Veronica we have 5 minutes!! We need to leave before my parents get home, or else they won’t let me leave!” I said. “Okay, okay, sheesh. Let me just put on my shoes and get my bag from upstairs, it’ll only take a sec,” Veronica told me. “Well hurry. We don’t have much time. Especially if we don’t want to arrive at the party late,” I told her. “Yeah, I know, I don’t need you telling me that. You know how I hate being rushed. We would of probably already left by now if you didn’t make us watch that stupid movie,” she complained “Well my bad! It’s not my fault I needed to watch a movie for my English class. Well I have to rush you because we don’t have a lot of time. What else am I suppose to do?” I tried explaining to her. “Can you get my bag and my car keys while you’re up there?!” “Whatever!” Veronica yelled. Veronica came running down the stairs with her bag and her shoes on. It took her faster than I’d expected, which was a good thing. Except for the fact that she didn’t bring any of my stuff that I had asked for. “Umm didn’t ask you to get my bag and car keys?” I asked. “Hmm I guess I forgot. See I told you I hate being rushed. How do you expect me to get ready so fast and remember to get your stuff?” She said sarcastically. “Wow you and your excuses. It wouldn’t have been that hard to get my stuff Veronica,” I told her. So I ran upstairs and got my stuff. It took me a minute to find my keys. Then I ran back downstairs and two minutes had passed. “Pshh and you say I take forever!” Veronica said. “Whatever. You ready?” I asked. “Duhh. What does it look like?” Veronica said with an attitude “Okay then. Let’s go,” I said We walked up to the door and I as I turned the doorknob, the door suddenly pushed up against me. Apparently my parents were home. I guess I didn’t have as much time as I expected, even though only 2 minutes had passed. “Umm hey mom, hey dad,” I said with a smile, hoping it would soften them up. “Where do you think you’re going young lady?” My dad asked. “Dad how many times do I have to remind you that I’m 16, I’m not a young lady! We – well anyways Veronica and I were going back to her house,” I said with a stutter. “This late? All dressed up? Ha I don’t think so,” he said with a smirk. “What? No! I’m going to Veronica’s house and I don’t care what you say!” I yelled. “Excuse me?” My mom said. “You need to respect your father Tasha. Or else you won’t be going anywhere for a while.” “Mom! Why do you always take his side? I’m 16 now, and I deserve some freedom and respect!” I exclaimed. “Respect? You have enough of that. How about you start giving us some respect?” My dad stated. “Oh – my – gosh! I hate you guys!” I yelled as I ran upstairs. Poor Veronica was standing downstairs with my parents. Well after all this is mainly her fault. If we had left sooner then none of this would of happened. Veronica walked in on me in my room with my head in my pillow. “Yikes. Sorry. I forgot how your parents were,” Veronica said “Well I warned you. Didn’t I? Well I know what I’m going to do. I’m just going to sneak out later tonight. When they fall asleep,” I said “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Veronica asked. “Why wouldn’t it be? I’m going to that party Veronica. No matter what,” I said “Well you’re on your own then. I don’t want any part of this,” Veronica stated. “Okay well you can just say you’re going home and then I’ll meet up with you later tonight. I got to be back before five thought. My parents go to work at seven in the morning. They’ll probably be passed out within an hour. So I’ll leave in two,” I explained to Veronica “Yeah, that sounds good,” Veronica replied. “Are you going to take your car? Or should we take mine?” “It’ll wake my parents up. So I’ll just sneak out and walk to your house. Then we can jus take your car from there. Then we’ll probably be back by about three or four in the morning.” But you can just drop me off at your house on the way back, then I’ll walk home,” I explained even more. “Okay sounds good. Just call me when you’re heading out,” Veronica said. “Okay bye Veronica,” I said while waving. “Peace out Tash,” she replied.

Johnson Jones Sean’s Addiction Walking into Cherry’s Café for Sean was like a child walking into a candy store; so full of hope and desire. It was an addiction for Sean. He loved everything about it, the smell, the taste, the atmosphere, the people. He loved it until the last drop and once that was gone he craved more. He refused to go to a chain. Starbucks was to prim for him, and he felt it wasn’t worth the cost for the coffee. He loved his little Cherry’s on 45 th and Roosevelt. It was in the heart of Iowa City, Iowa, about a mile from the campus. From the outside Cherry’s looked like a rundown pawnshop, but on the inside it was a coffee haven and went completely retro. The burr grinders were definitely prototypes, the drip machine was the size of an air conditioner, and the refrigerator was a definite and crude puke green. As Sean entered the sanctuary he immediately noticed the smell. The grinded beans were intensely bugging him to go buy their nectar. That smell was also combined with the buttery scent of pastries, doughnuts, and muffins. It was a party in his nose. He loved the feel of the place. It had a motion, a flow. Some of the people in the line exited to the sofa’s in the corner for a thought provoking conversation with their friends. The pictures on the wall portrayed many garden tools such as wheelbarrows and rakes, as well as people with afros and sunglasses. The silent wiz of the coffee grinder combined with the quiet mumble of small talk was inviting, and homey. Here was the moment. Sean got in line, around three or four people back, and waited apprehensively. If it weren’t for the air conditioning he would be sweating. It was a lot for Sean, for he had to wait an estimated two minutes. In those two minutes he had nothing to do, yet he needed it right away. He attempted at distracting himself, anything to make the time pass quicker. He studied the pictures on the wall, as he has done so many times before. The first that came into frame was a picture of John Lennon. It was pure black and white. He was holding a guitar with the classic hippieglasses and a smile ear to ear. He was in the middle of a throng, which didn’t look to be the cleanliest. The next picture over was a picture of a wheelbarrow. It was red, glistening with rain, and next to white chickens. Sean had no idea what it meant or was but he sort of thought it is artistic. Before he knew it his analyzing of pictures passed the time quickly. He noticed that the person in front of him was just receiving his coffee and it was now his turn. He became anxious, hands shaking, and attempted at grabbing his wallet. “Hi… Double Grande Americano with an extra shot and room…” There was a large difference in the emotions he felt and how he expressed them openly. In the morning, no matter how he truly felt, was short and to the point. “Yeah, sure.” The barista said, a little put off by the tone in Sean’s voice. It doesn’t help that she had been up since three to open the shop at fourthirty. “Thanks. Oh, and make sure there is room...” “Yep. That’s my job.” There was an awkward pause after then and it took about thirty seconds to extract the espresso. Once the coffee was in the warm cup the defining moment came. The wallet Sean had in his hand was slippery from anxious sweat by now. He grabbed all his cash… Two dollars. Not even enough. He had to back his credit up some more. It was worth it to him, however, and he paid anyway. The check that would soon be coming in a week was well worth the momentary happiness that he got from that paper cup. After he had put a couple more numbers on that bill that was going to arrive in a week he went to the cream stand and filled the cup to the top. He exited the store following that same flow and drove home in his Jeep Wrangler. He would enter his apartment to find his cool tuxedo cat waiting for him. He purred as he lay on Sean’s lap, who was slowly drinking his coffee. With finals over was a great day for Sean…

Sage Kay

The Plan I’ve got five minutes only five minute to get out of here. I can smell freedom; I can hear it calling me from outside of these dark, dank, stone cold walls. Which I have been trapped in for just over seven years. Prison is not easy to escape from, especially a maximumsecurity prison on an island five miles off shore. With guards holding M16s, and guard dogs on leashes constantly sniffing the perimeter. What I am doing is different from a running escape; it is an elaborate set of events channeled into the course of five minute. If one fails they all fail. There is no room for retries. I’ve been running through the routine hundreds of times in my mind, so I can get it precisely right. First step at exactly 8:12pm: Half of the guards will leave their stations to process the new prisoners, when that happens most of the dogs will be put in their cages, so they don’t attack the new prisoners. This will make it much easer for me to escape. At 8:20 I will go under the secret tunnel in the corner were my bed is, and crawl 15 feet to where my tunnel runs into the floor vent. Step two: This is when I was puzzled when I originally thought of this plan. I couldn’t get past the metal without it making a lot of noise. My idea came when I had to work in the kitchen on a meat shredder. I could just take one of the blades near the back of to use as a saw. I had always been good at stealing, so it was no trouble stealing it. So, when I got to the metal wall I would start to cut when I heard the coffee grinder when get turned on which happens at 8:21. Step three: Crawl a couple feet very quietly, because it is the only part of the vent that is next too the wall. Step four: I will crawl as fast as I can through the vent until I will reach a vent cover, and I’ve already stolen a screwdriver to open the cover. Step five: Race through the shadows on the left side of the courtyard. Step six: Dive under the closing gate from which the prisoners have recently entered. With any luck, I will be able to do this with out any complications. It has just turned to 8:20. I pray that I will succeed. I jump through the hole behind my bunk and start to crawl. So far, so good. Truthfully, I half expected that someone would yell, ‘Hey, were did the prisoner go?’ when I got 5 feet in the hole, but fortunately no. All the guards are right were they are supposed to be. Within seconds, I reach the metal wall. I take out my small saw and wait. Where was the coffee grinder? It usually had been turned on by now, but not this time. The guard that made the coffee must have been on the welcoming party. This is just my luck, I thought to myself. Thirty seconds in and I already have a problem. I waited for what seemed like hours, my palms started to sweat. If I couldn’t get through, then I would have to wait another year for more recruits. Then it came; the best sound I have ever herd in my lifethe screeching of the coffee grinder starting up. The sound echoing down the jail walls, making screams sound weak and quiet compared to the massive coffee grinder. Start cutting now, my brain screamed; my body responded immediately I began frantically sawing through the metal. Almost there. Just a few more inches. My palms were sweating so much that I dropped my saw. I cursed under my breath, remembering that I could still be heard. I grabbed my saw and quickly finished my work. As soon as I squeezed through, the coffee grinder shut off. Dead silence. Not a sound. This is bad, I thought, this is really bad. This means that I’m behind schedule, and if that is so, then the gate won’t still be open. Which means no escape. To my relief, one of the guards yelled, “What the heck? The stupid coffee grinder just stopped all the sudden!” Another guard yelled back, “ God damn it! How did you screw up at making the coffee already? Man, if Phil had been here he would be laughing at you.” “It isn’t my fault that no one taught me how to use this coffee grinder!” the first guard exclaimed. Meanwhile, I had been inching forward through the tightly compacted crawl space. Holding my breath while I crawl, I try to keep my mind on freedom and what it will mean to me if I escape. No more meaningless labor, no more gross sloppy food that all tastes the same, and, best of all, no more small, single rooms where we are caged in. “You idiot! You spilt the coffee all over the ground!” Yelled the second guard. “How could you be so clumsy to spill that much coffee!” “Sorry, Sorry. I’m starting the next batch right now. Jeez.” Those guards must really like their coffee, I thought and could not help but to smile faintly. With a new hope for me, the coffee grinder roared back to life, taking away any doubt of not being able to escape and replacing it with a newly found motivation. I crawled as fast as I could toward where I would need a screwdriver, making it there in just under a minute. Glancing at my watch once more, I realized that I only had two minutes left. I started unscrewing frantically. One by one the screws fell out. I cautiously climbed out the vent, stood up very slowly, looking back and forth making sure that no one was coming. Then I ran as fast as I could down the left side of the courtyard concealed by shadows. Suddenly I stopped, right in front of me was a guard. He was smoking right in front of the gate I needed to go through. I considered my situation, looked at my watch, 30 seconds left. “Hell with it!” I said very quietly. I rushed him. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do because he had a gun, but I was a lot bigger then him, and as soon as he looked up, it was already too late for him. He was flat on the ground and completely knocked out. The gate started to shut and I dived. I made it out! The only bad thing is, within my first second of being free, I landed in a mud puddle.

Kielan LemoineKowalski

The Robbery It was a typical August day in a small town of Wyoming. John was working at the bank over the summer while he was back from college. It was a pretty slow day at the bank, with not many customers going in or out. The temperatures outside were over 90 degrees and the bank became stuffier inside. “Hello, may I get some cash?” asked an unfamiliar bank customer. He wore a brown t shirt with faded blue jeans. He had very straight hair that hung partly over his face. The man’s worn leather boots reminded John of mountain biking, which he was going to do for after work that day. John, a pretty arrogant guy, considered himself to be very brave. “Yes, how much would you like?” replied the cashier. “I want to get fifty dollars,” said the customer. “Okay, I’ll get that right away,” responded the cashier. While partially listening to the conversation, a bored John directed more of his attention to the TV overhead, as he waited for more customers to arrive. The national news came on and reported about two bank robbers traveling through multiple states robbing banks. The thought of being robbed made John uneasy, even though he knew that it was such a rare event, there was really nothing to worry about. The warning on the the news flashed in big red letters, stressing that the two men were armed and dangerous. Feeling uneasy, John grabbed his jacket, decided to take his coffee break early and get some fresh air. As he was heading towards the door, he spied a black car with dark tinted windows pull up and two blackclothed figures step out onto the sidewalk. One of them was tall and wore a black leather coat. The other was short with a dark short sleeve shirt. They both had short hair, though their facial features were hidden by ski masks. On their hips were holsters, from which protruded large caliberlooking revolvers. John’s heart started racing as he saw the men approach. The two looked around to make sure no one was watching and proceeded into the building. They burst through the door with guns drawn, pointing them around the room. John, panicking, dove behind his desk and frantically dug into his pants pocket for his cell phone so that he could call the police. He cowered on the ground, holding his breath, trying to remain unnoticed. “Get on the ground, everyone,” the men yelled. John tried to stay quiet behind the desk. “If you try to call the cops, we’ll use our weapons,” they said. John was so scared he couldn’t speak, as he sat frozen with the phone in hand. The other people in the bank laid on the ground as well. The two robbers made their way around the bank in search of money and the vault. They found John hiding and told him that if he even thought about using that phone, they would “blow him to pieces.” “Load all the cashiers money in this bag,” demanded the robbers, throwing a large sack at John. There was nothing he could do but follow their instructions. As he loaded the money in the bags, time seemed to move in slow motion. John hoped that soon the police would arrive and that people outside the bank had noticed what was happening. In anticipation of the police arriving, the robbers took hostages with them as they walked around to use as human shields. Apparently, people outside had seen the commotion, for only minutes after the breakin John started to hear the increasing noise of sirens. “We have to get out of here,” muttered one robber to the other. “No,” replied the other. “The police are surrounding the building. I don’t think it is possible to escape.” “What is your plan then?” asked the short one. John was hoping the police would soon make a break into the building and arrest the two criminals. They continued to argue about escape routes. Suddenly, a loud boom echoed about the room. John’s ears rang from the commotion. He didn’t want to look up to just see what happened. “Why did you do that?” yelled one of the criminals to the other. “Come on, we have to get out of here,” demanded the other. John heard loud footsteps scurry out one of the back entrances where the cops weren’t. John remained in the fetal position from the shock of what had just happened. Lying there in shock, john saw bright flashes of light surrounding him and yells of people. Paramedics unloaded their trucks and ran into the room.

Keegan Lockler

The Day That Changed My Life There I was, sitting in a musty hot dense room with a haunting scene on the wall as if someone was tied, hands first to a turning object and spun around with blood tearing out of there legs and then onto the wall. I knew from the moment my blindfold came off this was trouble. I hear them talking in some Arabic dialect I can’t understand. They sound angry, but with a taste of dark humor. It was like being looked at by death I knew that if I didn’t die, I would want to be dead. So I began to try and talk with them, “Hello, do you speak English?” The guard looks at me with a ravaged eye. “Hello, yes do you speak English?” I angered them even more. Guard, “SHHHHHHH!” “Silence!” In my head I knew I was much stronger than that to let all my hopes and dreams to go down. Suddenly a phone rings they both rush to the phone the more controlling one picks it up about 20 seconds into the phone call the one who picked it up signals the other one to go outside for something. As soon as the man gets off the phone he looks at me with a twisted smirk I knew it couldn’t be good the other guard comes back shortly after with a box that looks to be aged, its got water stains and dirt all over it. He pulls out something that looks like it should be in a hospital. He looks at them pulls out instructions then throws them on the ground angrily rips the rest of the instrument out of the box and plugs it in the light go out for a second then come right back in my body tingles with anxiety over the fact that it’s about to be used one me so the only thing I can do is panic I jolt around in my chair I can hear it scraping on the ground both of the men laugh while I am humiliating myself but in the moment that’s the last thing that goes through my mind he turns around from looking at me and turns a knob on the instrument o the right indicating almost max power he laughs in a high pitch almost squeal at this point I’m terrified beyond belief I think of home and why did I ever want to be one this mission its to dangerous at that point alls I can look at is him and the paddles he walks towards me and touches the paddles they spark and the lights dim once more I can hear the machine making a loud buzzing noise as if it was a air pump but much more intimidating at this point I feel very helpless all I can do is just watch them play with my life it’s terrifying I push my chair once back it budges but they laugh even more I push all they way to the back off the room until I hit a wall at that point they walk over to me he touches the paddles together once more the lights dims out again at this point its getting old I want to get it over with I try standing up but realize my upper legs are tied firmly to the chair he leans close to me and says something in my ear leans back into his chair and laughs hysterically then stops abruptly looks me dead in the eye and then eases the paddles onto my body they are cold it feels nice only for a second until he pushes the button on the back of them down I feel the electricity run throughout my body its painful it burn everywhere like if you were to take a lighter and individually burn a part of your skin all at once for about 5 seconds and I can feel my back jolt up after the burn goes away then the lights dim and everything stops my heart is pounding I can feel the blood in my temples and hit my thumb as if it was touching a frogs throat I was very scared I thought I was dead but I saw there faces they were laughing at my pain I remember thinking they were cowards but I didn’t want to react was to tired I felt exhausted from all the pain I was thankful it was over but I prepared for more he handed the paddles to his guard he reaches his arms out to grab them but with all remaining energy I had left in my system I lunged my leg out and smacked the paddles from his hand they fly up into the air I remember looking in shock not believing myself my eyes locked onto the paddles hoping one of them wont retrieve them between the air to the ground they flew past ones head and smash into the ground at that point every ones eyes are locked on to the now mess of the paddles they both turn to me synchronically and kicked me in my right leg it was painful but I knew I was strong and could old out lot more pain then that as soon as I’m recovering from the kick I felt a sharp pain hit my lower left abdomen then a sound clanking noise and more giggles come out of the two men. Then one takes off his take top walks over to the tables and takes a spool of tape and starts wrapping his hands take him about 30 seconds I realize he has done this before. When he's walking back he grins at his partner and punches me once in the lower chest looks me in the face and spits then takes his right arm cocks it back then I felt a hard blunt object right in my left face area I just remember my head drifting back and going to sleep.

Tyson Maine

The worst phone call It was scorching hot outside in this western Alaska town. The hottest day of the year, But Nathan didn’t know that, he was to busy in side just sitting, watching, doing nothing. His friends all wanted him to come out side, but no it was nathan’s day of quiet. The day his parents got divorced one year to the day. “Come on Nathan” said one of the boys outside, “We just wanna go walk aroung and talk to” said one of the girls. “Leave me alone im busy” replied Nathan. “no you arnt, you are just sitting there,” “Fine I’ll come but I don’t want to talk about my parents.” “Fine fine have it your way,” Now as Nathan got his coat on he say there was a knew voice mail on the machine, He lisend along to the first couple of voice mails. Then the big one came, “Hey Nathan its mom, I am ok but you need to call your aunt, ive been in a bad car accident and they say the surgy wont be long but you will need some one to take care of u for a couple of days. I have appendicitis and they need to remove my appendix as soon as possible so when u get her I am going to be in surgy. I love you” “Hey guys come in here, my mom is in the hospital and I need to get there fast.” “ We could take her car?” said Jason. “No I don’t have my license.” “Ok well if we sprint we could be there in 15 minutes.” Said the girl who was the tag along. “I got it, bus 127 to 5 th and main, then we take the 115 to the hospital” said Jason. Now as all of these teens try and think of something to do Nathan was just passing back and forth trying to figure things out. All of this is happening so fast; the hospital is so far away. He has nothing he can do, feeling like he is wasting time. If only his dad was here, he maid everything better. He felt like crying and just calling his dad, but he is to stubborn. He cant throw down his guard, he is know to hate his dad. His dad cant know he actually loves his dad. “What is wrong with me, I cant show emotion, my whole life sucks and I don’t want anybody to know how bad it really is.” Nathan thought that he shouldn’t tell his friends that his life sucked because they might think he is weird. “Ok lets take that bus,” “what maid u change your mind” said a girl sitting on the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lets just go!” After all of the anxious teenagers got on 3 different busses they relized one thing “We are lost.” “No we are not, ok maybe we are but I’m hoping we are not for your sake Nathan.” About now It was just Nathan and his best friend Steve on this adventure. All of the sudden they saw it “Fishing country hospital.” There it is, the hospital that are entire journey has been about, we get off the bus and walk in the front door of the hospital. “We have been waiting for you” said the nice lady at the desk. “Me, why me?” “Because your dad wants to see you” The man I hate wants to see me at the hospital where im waiting for my mom to get out of her operation… “Dad” he answered back telling me how sorry and how bad he missed me and Mom. After a while of talking I told him the thing that I never thought I could say. “I love you dad”

Surafel Mamo

The Inventor boy “Attention people, this is one way to Create City,” said the ticket man inside the ticket stand. Union station was old and huge. The Whole station is filled with marble floors. Small ticket box’s where standing all against the wall. Each station set up right next to each other with five meter apart. It is Very crowded in daytime and pretty quiet eat night. “One way please,” said Tom to the ticket man. Before he can get the money to the ticket man, Tom heard a familiar sound form his back. He turns around and there was his mother. With her big long bright dress, she was very shocked to see her son. “Ha, there you are, we been looking everywhere for you” said his mom. “I told you I would find him, it is a moms instincts to find her children’’ said Toms mother. Tom’s dad was skinny and tall, his gesture was more relax than toms mother. He looked as if he knows where his son was. “Instinct? Tom left us a note saying that I am living, I will be in the train station,” said his dad. “Never mind that, now pick up your suitcase Tom, you are going right now” said his mother with a strong voice. “No mom, I have to do this, I am going to Create City tonight and I am going to get a job, then get money so that I can pay dad’s debt,” said Tom. “Talk to him,” said his mom that thinking that Peter will persuade him. “Ok then, I,” said his dad, before he even start talking his mom said, “Create city, you’re just a kid” “I am not going to be someone if I am here” said tom. “I want to be an inventor I want to meet Mr. Roswell, I want to be some body,” said Tom in an innocent way. “You are somebody, somebody that is not doing on that train,” says his mom.” “Yes mom, I am going,” said Tom. “Talk to him Peter, he is not lessening,” said his mother. His dad walked to Tom looking as if he I about to get his suitcase but instead he passed the suitcase and went to the ticket stand and said, “one ticket to create city please.” The ticket man handed one small ticket to him and Tom’s dad walked to Tom and said, “Here you go.” “Where do you think you are going,” said toms mother. “Not for me, it is for him,” said his dad. “But, but, but,” Toms mother was very confused not knowing what had happened. “Tom, when I was in your age I wanted to become a musician,” said his father. “I play really well too. But my dad was worry that I wasn’t going to make great living off of it. I got back and become to be a post office man,” said his dad. “I am not complaining about this, but always I said to my self if I could live my life over again, I would fallow my dreams.” Tom’s dads continued, saying “ have greatness in you Tom, never doubt it. You go to create city and you meet the famous Mr. Roswell, you show big idea and never give up on your dream Tom. Never ever give up your dream Tom.” The train rolled up from the south with no one onboard. The train was silent except the big engine noise. Tom said to his dad, “got to go, my train is here.” His mom was carrying the suitcase as if she thought they were going back home but as she saw what his dad did, she was very silent for a moment. “Mom, mom, can I get my suitcase now? Said tom His mom was frozen and she waked up from the sound of her sons sound asking her for the suitcase. She got up her head and said, “wait son, let me get that for you” She walked to him with her face down. She looked very sad and depressed, from her back Tom’s dad’s tapped her and said, “Don’t worry he will be just fine, you will see.” She handed the suitcase to Tom and backed up. She had any thing to say to him. The train horn went off, signaling that it is time to go. People started to get on the train and Tom said to him mother and father, “I will miss you guys, but I will never ever turn you down” As he entered the train his mom called out and told him, “I love you son, no matter what happen be careful, you’re the only one I got.” She cried very hard and stepped away from him. The train started and the train doors were closing, as it closing, his dad shouts out: “I will miss you son, have a nice trip.” Tom looked to his parents for inside the train as the train moved. Looking at them by the window. As the train moved they got smaller and smaller for his face. His dad waved back and forward saying good by my son. As tom sits down there was a man next to his seat. “Hay” said the guy next to Tom “Hay” said Tom “Is this your first time to Create City?” the person asked Tom at looking in the window. “Yea, my first time, I am going to see Mr. Roswell and I am going to show my creation that I made.” said Tom with a very exciting face. “Wow, you must be an inventor. I bet you seen his shows a lot right?” Said the man “Yes I do, I see his shows since I was 8 years old. He is my inspiration to me. That is why I am going,” said Tom as if he is going to me the person right a way. “Kid, I know you love this guy. But Create City is changed; it wasn’t like the time you used to remember it, as you were little on the TV. Mr. Roswell had stopped working. No body knows where he is, all we know now is that they’re a bad person who took the place of Mr. Roswell and the city is turn to bad,” said the man. Toms face dropped as his parents keep coming in his head over and over again.

Misty L. McElhany

Untitled I had not always lived in Japan, it was in a war with half of the world. A war that had been lasting for over 100 years, over something so trivial that neither side remembered what the original reason for fighting was. It is 2050 and for cars we have machines that float. It happened before Caledonia took over the world. Before I became emperor. We where two my sister and I. I was 18 when my sister turned 12. The both of us lived in an academy, my sister and I lived in the academy because she was blind and could not walk, while the other kids lived in dorms 3 blocks away. Where the slightest sound sent us scurrying to safety, that is everyone but me. The city was nice not too bright not to dark yet it could easily be turned as black as night. I grew up as prince of Caledonia 17 th in line to the throne. With many older and younger siblings I was not that important in the family but I was enjoyable. The fact of the mater was because I was only 17 th . Yet when my mother died I renounced my title and fled with my sister to Japan. Japan was the one place I thought would be safe. For at the time I have known it as a peaceful place. Little did I know it was not true the battle was never there when I visited. When I got to Japan I learned not everyone was as into Chess and Military stuff. Thus I was the most military geek around and the one who got it into my head to start fighting, as terrorist, was Kallen. Yes was all thanks to Kallen. Only she followed my lead. It was something that was impressive to me that someone would willingly follow, I had been so used to people having to follow my lead because they had to. What impressed me even more was that I had followers. People who would willingly follow me even if it meant risking their life. The sound of the boom made me turn in surprise. I watched in awe, time seemed to slow down, as the explosion of the bomb seemed to reach out with figures. It barley grazed the van but even so we where flung like rag dolls, our eyes transfixed on the light of the bomb as it slunk back into the darkness. We rolled over and over the rolling nearly made my eyes roll with it. Though I heard the others gasping I managed to watch the other vans that had been around us had been blown to pieces. The metal was twisted into spirals like giants had come a twisted it with their bare hands. The glass was falling down from sky like rain, the rays bouncing off our eyes. We came to a stop when we hit the wall of a building, I glanced down cuts littered my arms like snakes. The blood dripping down by arm was distant and seemed like it belonged to someone else. Luckily my watch was still in tact and not even a second had past. For a second I sat there staring at the watch as if willing the minute hand to move faster. Finally I leaned back and glanced into the back seat, I saw the outlines of 5 people who watched me. I sighed they where all counting on me and at the moment I could think of nothing to say to them that would calm any uneasiness. “Is everyone okay?” I said in a brisk way, it was soft barley over a whisper. “Yeah I have a few cuts, John has a gash on his head and the rest minor cuts are you and Kallen okay” Katie murmured. I glanced over at Kallen who was still staring at the spot where we had at been. “Yeah………oh sorry… I have a deep cut on my shoulder” Kallen whispered “Anybody have any bad wounds” I asked glancing around. The funny thing about blood is that no matter how dark it was you could always see it. It stood out in the dark van. The faint glow of the blood momentarily mesmerized me, than I snapped back a little startled. I leaned forward and reached out feeling for the bandages. Wordlessly I handed it to Kallen. She nodded her thanks. I glanced out the window squinting through the inky darkness; a spick of fear ran through me, I grabbed the wheel. Yet another van was hurtling at us I started up the engine revving up. I begged the van to go but then the second van hit us and we went flying again. In the time it took for us to hit the ground, I was thinking. I did not hear anything I was lost in my memories. I remembered it when I had turned 5, I was with my best friend and my sister Alissia. She had been trying to get me to play with her. “Why won’t you play, even Iggy said he would” Alissia giggled motioning at a sullen Iggy. His real name was Belphegor not that it made any sense, Iggy seemed more appropriate. Cause with a name like Belphegor people expected more of you. Iggy, we decided, would never be able to live up to such high standers. We also called him Bel everyone and a while. It was not the nicest thing seeing as he was 8 years older than me, 9 for Alissia! He was our sempi and we did not respect him all that much. I how ever looked up to him. “Did not, said I would if Kyle would” Iggy muttered rolling his eyes, they where the palest blue eyes you’d ever seen. They matched his pale blond hair, you know both where pale. We always got a kick out of it, Iggy was pale, most everyone was not pale but a little tan. That of course included me. “I will as long as we get ta fight” I muttered. The memory faded away with Kallen shacking me, even in the darkness I could see the fear in her jade green eyes.

Ronel Nanhthaseng

Untitled It was a gloomy day in the cafe, but i didnt mind at all. I noticed the waitress looking at me wierd. It wasnt the first time i noticed her doing that. As i sat in the booth drinking my coffee, the waiter came up to me and started to conversate with me. the conversation soon turned into a party invintation. As i recived the adress to the party, i left home to go get ready for the party. i didnt kno what to wear as i looked into my closet full of clothes. i started putting together random combinations of clothes together untill i found a nice set of clothes that i choose to wear. As i walked down the street twoard the party, i noticed that the population started to decrease. It soon made me wonder, "what kind of party is this?" I soon saw the building, it wasnt that hard to notice the building from all the others, it was the only building with lights for milies. As i walked in the building my eyes started to sting from the neon. I kept walking down the hallway untill i reatch a big room full of people having the time of thier lives. I looked around the room to look for the waiter. As i made eye to eye contact with her, she came up to me with what looked like a halloween costume with blood all over her shirt. So as i got into the party and started dancing around with everybody, i noticed that there was a room where about every 10 minutes a guy would go in, but i noticed that the guys would never come out. It made me courious so i slowly make my way over there, as i get close to the door i noticed a window thats tinted, but there was a crack in the window. I couldnt help my self but look into the crack. As I looked into the crack I saw the waiter sitting in a chair behind a desk. A guy came in and sat on the chair in front of the desk. They started to talk but I couldnt hear what they were talking about. The waiter soon started to get a little sexual. She soon put a blindfold on his eyes, and before i knew it he was on a table with a sock in his mouth. Right when i saw that my eyes lock on to the waiter, as she slowly starts to change into a monster. She had 5 eyes, with grey skin, her teeth turned as sharp as a chainsaw, wings broke out of the skin on her back, and her legs got about 3 feet longer. As she opened her mouth her teeth became about 2 inches long, and she just started to eat the guy alive. I couldnt believe what i saw. When she was done we made eye to eye contact, and i saw her eyes turn from all white to all red in an instant. I immediately started to run away. She started to chase me down the street. As i was running i turned around to see if she was still following me, and right then I saw her flying in the air right behind me. She flew in ahead of me and landed right infront of me. I tried to run the other direction, but her long legs tripped me. And right before I new it i was getting eaten alive.

Asma Noray Spirits of Remembrance The sun shone on the freshly fallen snow. For a moment, she felt like the whole world had become illuminated. How the world seemed so dark at one moment but so cheerful the next moment continued to amaze her. Zainab’s smooth dainty hands slid across the white canvas as she drew her front yard. The crystal white snow, the barren but beautiful tree, the sparkly frozen pond next to the white picket fence, and most importantly, her five year old son, Ali. As she outlined his body, she wondered how time had slid by so fast. It seemed like just yesterday that she was holding her newborn son, listening to the news that she, a newlywed youngster, had now become a widow. That newborn grew into a three foot ball of energy that reminded Zainab so very much of her late husband. Sometimes, their similarities frightened her or made her well up with tears. But most of the time, they filled her with happiness. Their cold grey eyes, jet black hair, eloquent voice, and even their outgoing personalities were exactly the same. When she felt like she couldn’t bear it any longer, she crawled into Ali’s bed and held him close to her heart. Even though he was gone, he had left behind Ali. Zainab was an artist. Her studio gave her a feeling of completeness. It let her live on with her life and gave her a purpose. Just a few years ago, the bland white walls of the studio seemed depressing but were now covered with Zainab’s art. Paintings of landscape, architecture, and portraits of people from every age and country filled the studio. Either on the walls, in her many albums, or waiting in the files to be sold. The room felt entirely different from the rest of the house. It danced with colors and filled your heart with desire. The fresh sunlight coming through the window bathed the shining hard wood floors. It didn’t take much for Zainab to become inspired. She saw everything around her as beauty. After all that had changed around her, art kept her connected to the world. Emotions emanated from her art. It let her lash out with anger, pour out her sadness, and empty her mind. With every new piece, she also felt excitement and love. On this particular day, she looked out at her son carefully constructing a snowman. As she drew Ali’s eyes, she reminisced of her husband’s piercing gaze. Gentle, but intense. Her heart knew them so well; she could almost draw them without looking at the page. When she missed gazing into these eyes, all she had to do was look into Ali’s. He struggled with his snowman’s eyes. They managed to drop out every time he stuck them in. Turning back time could be done in an instant just by observing his care free playfulness. She finished drawing his eyes and looked up to see him waving at her though the window. “Ami, Ami!!” he called. Pointing at his snowman, he beckoned her outside. Zainab smiled and nodded. Rushing over to her bathroom, she washed her charcoal stained hands. She pulled on her brown boots, coat, gloves, scarf, and dashed outside. “Ami, help me with my snowman, the eyes won’t stick,” he grumbled. “Well, I’ll try, but I’m not very good at making snow men either,” Zainab replied. “I’ve seen you work Ami. If you can’t make a snowman, no one can.” She picked up the fallen raisins that he used for the eyes and wondered where he got them. How could a five year old boy reach the top cabinet of a kitchen that even she used a chair to reach? “Did Ab’ba ever make a snowman?” he asked. “I don’t know, he never said anything about one.” Zainab said. “Was he as nice as you?” “More so” “Was he is pretty as you?” “Uh huh” “Was he as good at art as you?” “It depends on what you call art,” she answered. “What was his job?” Ali prodded. “It’s not important.” Children always intrigued Zainab. Their simplicity and straightforwardness put a smile on her face. She loved the way they never bottled up their emotions and somehow, dealt with them better than adults. Shame never entered their personalities. “Please tell me Ami. I want to know so I can be just like him,” pleaded Ali.” “What did he look like?” She didn’t answer for a few seconds. “Where did you get these raisins?” “I’ll tell you if you tell me about Ab’ba.” He had never seen his mother get angry. He wondered if this would be the first time. “Fine,” said Zainab. He stared in amusement as he realized how angry she felt, and yet, how calm she appeared. “He was a soldier, in the army. He could build almost any machine you could think of. He was the most unselfish man I have ever met. He lived every day to the fullest and made sure everyone around him was always happy. He showed me the world and I will never forget him.” “What did he look like?” Ali repeated. “Just like you,” she murmured, staring at the snow beneath her feet. “He couldn’t have looked EXACTLY like me.” “Yes he could. Your eyes are like his, your laugh is like his, your smile is like his, your hair is like his, and very other beautiful thing about you is like his.” She wrapped her scarf around the snowman and walked away. Slow, quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. Ali followed and said, “I’m sorry Ami, did I make you mad? I didn’t mean to.” “No you didn’t make me mad. I could never be mad at you. Sometimes I’m just overwhelmed by how much you remind me of him.” “But I did make you sad,” said Ali. “A little, but it wasn’t your fault.” “So where did you get those raisins?” “Oh. I thought you would forget.” “Ali, you are the sneakiest boy I have ever met. I kept my promise, now you keep yours.” She bent down and scooped up some of the snow. The coldness penetrated her gloves. She started playing around with it. An artist’s hands never stop working. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said. “You know you can tell me anything. I expect you tell me everything. Who else is there to tell?” The ambience was dead silent. Ali stared off into the distance. “Come on, tell me.” “Wait. I’m trying to think of how I should say this so you don’t freak out.” You could have mistaken a law student taking the bar exam with Ali’s stolid and focused face. “Hmm… if it’s that bad maybe I don’t want to know.” “Does that mean I don’t have to tell you?” He hoped. “I’m not going to force you to say something you don’t want to say.” “Good cuz I don’t want to tell you.” “So be it.” She got up and walked into the house. Ali followed, worrying that he had truly done it this time. “Ami, will you make me hot chocolate?” “No. You’re having haldi ka dud ,” Zainab scolded. “Is that supposed to be my punishment?” “Maybe” “It’s better than having to tell you what really happened,” he mumbled. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” said Ali. The microwave beeped and she walked over to it with her usual poise. She picked up the mug and placed it in front of Ali. He grimaced like it was poison. Zainab giggled and stroked his hair. He looked up at her with a pleading innocence. Bending down, she kissed his frozen cheek and started to walk away. This was his mother’s serene way of saying, it’s alright, I’m not mad anymore, we’ll be okay. Her simple gestures always did wonders in reassuring people. Ali gulped down his milk with relief, and for the first time, without whining. This was his way of saying thank you.

Konrad Otani

The Sketchbook Why I put myself in these types of situations, I haven’t a clue. Maybe for the adrenaline, maybe because I am good at it, or maybe for the reward. Yeah, this job must be for the reward, two admittances to The Pravelli Gallery. The Pravelli Gallery is only the finest gallery for top artists to display their art and make their name. Every year they visit Presco, Washington for a week and attract some of the greatest talent across the globe and each year the best piece receives the Pravelli Award. I always fantasize about standing on stage holding the Pravelli, shaking Mr. Jack Pravelli’s hand, but in all reality some dreams will remain dreams. Every place that life pulls me, I take along with me, in my old, ragged messenger bag, a sketchbook and a pencil. When something inspirational crosses my path, I sit and draw for the rest of the day. Presco is a neat little city with old, red, brick buildings, two lane roads with little trees running down the sides, complex alley systems, a market that sells the freshest foods, and the Presco Convention Center, where the Gallery will take place. The show is happening in two weeks from yesterday and it is hard to come across such tickets. Unfortunately for me, T. J. Barnes, the current owner, knows how rare the two thin sticks of paper are. What was his order? The biggest catch from the market down the street. Now, I know if you need something I am the guy to employ, but a fish, that’s a twoman job no matter how proficient you are, so I dragged my good friend Tom Cappelo into the mission. “So, why am I here?” Tom asked, almost whining. We were concealed in some bushes next to the market watching the manager sweep the entrance. “Well, I was in the alley, I saw something, and I need to get something to get it.” The alley is place where the hidden society I am a part of meets for business like trade and jobs. It lies deep in the labyrinth of alleys, isolated from the world. Our society consists of mostly homeless teenage kids that live off what they can obtain and the alley provides an opportunity for them to barter for goods they want. “Whaat?” Tom complained. “What do I get out of this?” “I’ll buy you dinner or something,” I said focused on the market. “Sound good?” “Does it matter?” “Not really.” Tom’s face showed expressions that were weary and lifeless. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped open exposing a gaping wound. “What happened to you?” I said, signifying the scratch. “Oh, nothing, just another dud job. Got the cops involved. So, what’s the plan?” “Well, I was thinking of the classic distraction play.” Tom looked satisfied. Tom approached the market and asked the manager something. Another man walked in front of the stand looking at the produce. The manager went inside and Tom clasped his hands behind his back. That was the clue for me to take action. I emerged from the bushes and walked towards the market. Walked past the seafood barrel and slipped the fish into my bag. Just as I was about to round the corner… “Hey, kid.” I took off running. Once pretty deep in the alley, I listen for a pursuer. When I thought it was safe, I checked my catch. It was the biggest fish I had ever seen. Also I became aware of a good size aperture in my bag and realized my sketchbook was no longer present! Now I was stuck in a dilemma; repossess my book and risk losing the fish that would turn into two admittances to The Pravelli Gallery or just cash in the check. I made my way back to the market. I thought there was a slight chance that it dropped during my sprint down the alley. Cautiously rounding corners of the alley, I peered around the final bend and was staring down at a crossed pair of feet. A man was casually leaning against the alley wall flipping through my book. He wasn’t the manager. He was the guy that was pondering the produce. I recognized his face but couldn’t find a comparable name. His back was starting to hunch over, his hair showed traces of white, and subtle wrinkles began to protrude from his forehead. Just making visual contact with this man lured me out into the open. He lifted his eyes upward until they came in contact with my own. A little smile stretched across his face. “Hello,” said the man. “Hhey,” I stuttered. “You wouldn’t happen to know the owner of this book would you?” He asked as if he already knew the answer. “That would be mine sir.” “Really? These are fantastic drawings,” he murmured flipping through the pages. His eyes left the pages. “My name is Jack Pravelli, I don’t know…” he rambled on about himself while I pondered the fact that I didn’t recognize this man as the prominent Jack Pravelli. I felt foolish. I came back to earth and heard “…my gallery is coming to town in a couple of weeks and I would like you to submit your sketchbook at my gallery.” “It would be an absolute honor sir,” I managed. I felt my smile push my cheeks so far they hurt. “Good, good,” he replied reaching into his coat pocket revealing an admittance to his show. “Always keep one on me,” he said handing it to me. I accepted the ticket with arms wide open. “Now, I believe you have something to return.” I looked at him with The manager was locking up for the night right when I caught him. I recited the series of events that had elapsed starting with the first time I came in visual contact with the tickets. I extracted the fish from my bag and surrendered it to him. He said I could keep the fish if I painted him pictures to titivate his market, my first client. This seemed like a good start to a prosperous career. The weird thing was that the manager wanted images representing my story. I knew the perfect theme – dreams do come true. It appeared as though I could have a successful art career.

Erica Pan

The Sun and the Moon The sky was clear and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Blue skies rolled on for as far as the eye could see. Flowers started to bloom again, birds are chirping in the background, and all that was sight were leaves of green on many trees. The smell of the sun replaced the gross smell of the rain on sidewalks. There aren’t a whole lot of beautiful sunny days with blue skies and the smell of the sun in Seattle, Washington. The past week was full of beautiful weather, no rain, no wind, just calm sunny skies. “This is will always be my favorite place, don't you agree? This hill beside Lake Union is so beautiful, you can see the mountains from this hill.” said Kelly “The grass is green with life, you can see everything from here.” “I wish I that everyday could be like this, not worrying about anything, and being here with you.” Raymond said. The phone started ringing. “Urghh not again! How come you’re phone rings all the time? I don't want your job to ruin this place also.” Kelly exclaimed. “Everything when ever we get time to spend with each other you always have to ruin it with you stupid job! I don't get why everyday they call you. Can't they deal with a minor problem themselves?” “Okay I will just let them deal with it this time. I’m pretty sure they can handle it, I’ve told them many times that they should of learned by now right?” Raymond said nervously. As he said this he pulled out his phone and without looking and pressed ignore. “Trust me I’m turning off my phone right now” “Sure,” Kelly murmured. “Something is on your mind. I can tell, I’ve known you since kindergarten, so you no chance of hiding anything from me,” Raymond said. “Nothing is wrong, trust me,” Kelly said. “Are you sure? You’re lying; I can see it. You always blink when you lie. Now you’re blinking uncontrollably,” Raymond said. “No I’m not!” Kelly said laughing. “Come on! Be serious. Something is bothering you. I can tell when something isn’t right,” Raymond, said. A large bug flew out of nowhere, it started to slowly crawl it’s way to Kelly’s foot.” “Well you’re wrong then, cause nothing is wrong, nothing is bothering me, not even that oversized bug,” Kelly said. At the same time she tried to fake a smile. “You’re lying, I can see it in your eyes,” Raymond stated. “Every time you lie, you start to shake and blink a whole lot. Look! You are shaking right now. I’m being serious tell me what’s up.” “I want to be honest with you but I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” said Kelly “But you’re business isn’t doing so well. Maybe business isn’t the type of field for you. I know that you are trying you’re hardest to bring back Charlie’s business.” “You know how much my father meant to me before he passed away,” Raymond said. “I promised him that I would bring the business back.” “I know how much that place means to you,” Kelly said. “ We had so many memories in that café.” “I wish that I could go back in time and relive the times when we were young,” Raymond said. “Kelly…” “Ahhh chuu! It suddenly got really chilly.” Kelly said. That sneeze was so loud that it even made Raymond jump. “Do you want to go back home, it’s starting to get late?” Raymond asked. “Not yet I want to stay a bit longer. I haven’t seen such beautiful weather in a long time.” Kelly said. “Tell me how you are going to bring business back to Charlie’s café.” Another cold breeze forced out yet another sneeze from Kelly. Randomly a dark cloud moves above them. A dark, gloomy, unwelcome cloud gradually moved in. “Well, I was planning to redecorate, and you know since you’re good with making things match, I was hoping you could help me change things up a bit.” Raymond said. Raymond’s cell phone lit up and vibrated across the ground. “Hold on one sec… let me just take this call.” Raymond then gets up and walks a few feet away. He mumbles another few words. “Hey Kelly, I bet you are thirsty, how about I go buy you some apple juice? It will only take a couple minutes.” “Stop! If you are going back to the café you don’t have to make up any more lame excuses. I have better things to do than wait for you to come back. I wont take this crap from you anymore.” Kelly said as she grabbed her cell phone and keys. Kelly quickly got up and half ran down the steep hill. Suddenly a blaring crack of thunder roared through the peaceful silence. The birds stopped chirping, creating an awkward silence. Sprinkles gradually fell from the sky. Within moments the sprinkles transformed to raindrops, and then into gigantic raindrops. The rapid falling raindrops blurred the vision of everything. The ground was dry dirt soon became muddy. Rain made it almost impossible to see clearly. Kelly was so focused on getting away from Raymond; she barely noticed how dangerous the hill was. The rain caused the dry ground to become very slippery. A muffled scream pierced though the constant sound of rain falling. “Kelly! Kelly!” Raymond yelled. “See, I told you! You can’t see without you’re glasses. That is why you wait for me. You twisted you ankle… again.” Raymond bent down to pick Kelly up. “Let go of me! I can walk by myself, I don’t need you’re help.” Kelly said and elbowed Raymond. “No I don’t think you are going anywhere.” Raymond said. “I hate you…” Kelly muttered. “Thanks, I love you too.” Raymond whispered, with a large grin upon his face.

Michael Rodolf

Meeting the Mafia “Searching all day for just one person who could speak a little English and what I get; nothing,” said Kyle. “I need someone who can speak English or otherwise I’m not going to be able to finish my movie, and anywhere other than Italy would be a complete failure. Now where is a place that I could get some dinner I’m starving and I need a place to think,” said Kyle angrily. “You’re an American,” said a waiter. “You can speak English,” said Kyle. “Yes I can, now how many will I be serving.” “Oh, uh just one.” “Okay right this way please.” The waiter said as he picked up the menu. ‘I don’t know what use this menu would be to you because it’s written in Italian but I would be more than happy to help you read it to you.” “Thank you, I would be so grateful if you did.” “Okay so the first one on the menu is the lasagna with fresh mozzarella cheese. “I’ll get it, that sounds good to me,” Kyle said. “Are you sure that you want that, I mean, don’t you don’t want me to read off the rest of them,” said the waiter. “No I’m sure I want some real authentic Italian lasagna,” said Kyle. Hey who’s that guy staring at us, I think I saw him at the airport. Do you know who he is?” “No. I’ve never seen him before,” said the waiter. “Do you want me to go and talk to him?” “No, I think it’s fine, just get me the lasagna?” “Okay your dinner should be out in about ten minuets.” “Um, yeah okay that sounds good. I think though that I’m going to go and talk to him.” `“Alright, if you need me I’ll be in the kitchen,” said the waiter. “Yeah, I’m just going to go and talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?” “You’ve never been to Italy have you?” “No I haven’t.” “I just said that I’m going to go check on your dinner.” “Alright well here I go,” said Kyle. Kyle walk’s over to the men he noticed. “Uh hi, my name is Kyle and I was just wonder.” Kyle looks down to find a gun coming out from one of the man’s coat. He turns around trying to walk back to his table, but finds himself bumping into a large man in a suit. The man staring at me was part of a gang, and it wasn’t just any gang, it was the mafia. And that man was the mafia leader. “Kyle run” said a voice from behind me. I looked around the large man standing in front of me and the waiter coming with a broom, and hit’s the man in the back of the head. As the man fell I fled for the door. As I got out the door I saw the waiter behind me screaming for help and when the waiter got away from the men he ran out the door and came to me. We both ran back to my hotel and stayed there until the next morning, I didn’t get one ounce of sleep and neither did the waiter! The next morning we saw the gang outside my hotel window and we knew they were waiting for us. So we left the hotel out the back and found more of the gang in the back ally and we ran down the ally to the street and into the middle of a traffic jam. We looked back and saw the mafia running after us. We took the best opportunity we could to get away from them luckily we were able to hide underneath the cars. The waiter and I went to his apartment and stayed the next few nights there. After about a week the mafia was captured and imprisoned by the Italian police. I never saw the waiter again and for me, well I made my movie and it was the blockbuster hit of the decade, I named it, Meeting the Mafia!

Mickinzi Serles

The Building where staring. As I exited the plane, the last fragments of my life in South Dakota flew out the door. My memories will soon be hazy, and how I will miss them. My mom was yelling for me to get my head out of the clouds, and get into the Taxi. “Mom, are the buildings going to fall on us?” I asked. “No Sam, there’s no need to be scared. New York’s a big city. The thoughts running through my head were scaring me. Buildings were grinning, and cars were taunting me, just as everyone else did. Not anymore, everyone ran when I approached. Starting to pay attention to my new environment, I quickly realized I wasn’t going to like it here. Traffic galore, people screaming at one another, I just wanted to go back, but I knew I couldn’t. We arrived at our new home in the city, were checked in, and then were led immediately to my oddly pristine, white room. It was overlooking a beautiful river flowing flagrantly. I felt a shiver go through my entire body as my head started drifting back to the night. “Sam, were going, we’ll be back soon sweetie.” Mom said. In that time, I could be gone. My thoughts would be ripping me from reason. Drifting back to the night I lost my best friend. Before it got too bad, I called my grandma. “Hello?” Her warm voice made a smile appear across my face. “Hey Shammy, its me.” A long pause, then, “Oh, hello Samuel, how was the flight?” I could hear a slight, hesitation in her voice, but decided to ignore it. “My flight was okay, some turbulence, nothing too bad. How’re you?” “Hmm, that’s too bad. I’m okay.” She’s obviously making no attempt to hold a conversation. She couldn’t be mad at me too, she can’t. “I suppose not. It’s so different then back home Shammy.” It’s a weird thing to think about, saying home, but knowing it will never be “home” again. “Sam, you can’t say back home, you know this isn’t your home any longer. Your not the same Grandson I once had.” A silent tear trickled down my face. As I gazed out the window, more memories flooded into my head. I initiated the entire game, seeing who could remain below the surface longer then the other. Hitting the water, it was swift, and cold. My thoughts blur as the night progressed. “Grandma, don’t be like this. It was an accident. You of all people should understand why I did the things I did. I am the same boy, still your little Sam.” I heard a long sigh arise from the phone. “I apologize Sam, I can’t think of you the same. You’re not the same. You committed one of the worst sins possible. You took away the life of a boy. Sam, you’re the reason a family doesn’t have a son anymore, do you have no pity?” At that point, I couldn’t take anymore; I couldn’t comprehend what she was getting at. My head was spinning faster then I could blink, so I had to end the conversation. Once again, alone, left with foul thoughts broadcasting through my mind. When I came up, he wasn’t around anymore. I was searching for him in the pitch black. I was unable to see anything, until I felt something cold, and smooth. Flashbacks of that night haunt me. They haunt me in my sleep, they haunt me in complete consciousness, and I can’t get away from them. After I found him unconscious, I didn’t know what to do. I was going to be in trouble when everyone found out that I had let my best friend die. So, I hid him. I dug a hole, and put him in it. Filled it up, and left. I went home, with my best friends clammy, dead smell on me. I scrubbed my skin raw, and the stench still wouldn’t leave. Soon, detectives came to my door, and solved the disappearance of Johnny Cahill. They said I was crazy, which can’t be justified, I’m obviously not crazy. I’m not crazy. My parents said I had to stay at this place for a while, just so the people in white could help me. They lied about “going to a store for an hour.” I know what is really happening. They don’t believe me. They don’t believe I’m not crazy. It’s my parents that are the crazy ones. They should be the ones being forced to take medicine by people in long white coats. Now, I just sit on my windowsill, so outofmymind I can’t contemplate sanity. For the remainder of my childhood, I will just be stuck, reflecting on my parent’s madness, while my rationality is being kidnapped by the stimulant my body’s being taken over by.

Nicole Sharrratt

The Argument Kayla walked up to the door of her house, knowing something was going to happen. The trees were still; no birds could be seen for miles, it was the quiet before the storm. She was late getting home, and she knew her father was going to be mad, but she didn’t care. He had no right to be mad at her. As she walked through the old squeaky gate, she thought that he should be running out of the house by now. That’s what he always did when she came home late, but the door didn’t open. Not even the curtains moved. He must be really mad if he doesn’t want to have this argument in front of our neighbors. After her mom died, her father said he wanted a new place for them to call home, a new town for the kids to start over again. Kayla didn’t see how that was fair to them, since she believed it was her father’s fault that her mom was now gone. He was always telling them that everyone did everything they could to save her. That as soon as she had been struck by the car they had called for an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital and straight to surgery, but if that was really true, wouldn’t she still be here today. After she opened the door, trying to close it quietly without success, she dropped her bag by the door and ditched her shoes. Kayla headed for the stairs, surprised to find that her father wasn’t sitting on them. “Did you have a good time?” her dad called out. “What?” Kayla did a terrible job at hiding her surprise. “Did you have a good time with your friends?” he called again from the kitchen. “Yes,” she said as she slowly made her way closer to the stairs. “Are you going to eat tonight?” her father called out once more. “Maybe later.” Kayla didn’t understand why he wasn’t yelling at her, or why he hadn’t asked where she had been or what she had been doing. This wasn’t like him. For one slight moment she was worried that something might be wrong, but that feeling quickly passed as she remembered she wasn’t supposed to care. “Would you mind coming in here for a second if you have the time?” her father asked. “Fine,” she called, as she purposely stomped her way to the kitchen. It was childish, but she knew it bothered him the most when she acted like a little kid. He felt that she should be acting more her age, at sixteen she is becoming a young women, and he felt that stomping around was not appropriate for adults. She reached the kitchen within seconds, one of the many joys of having one of the smallest houses in the entire state. Back when they lived in Seattle, they had lived in one of the nicest houses that she could have ever imagined. It wasn’t the largest house she had seen, but it was large enough that if she was in her room, her parents weren’t able to hear what she was doing from their room. That all changed when her mom died. Her father wanted to know everything she was doing all of the time, no exceptions. She slammed open the kitchen door and found her father sitting at the table simply reading the paper. He briefly looked up, saw she had entered the room, and looked back down at his paper. “What do you want?” Kayla asked, almost hoping to start an argument. “I just want to talk.” Her father said, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the paper. “About?” Kayla was getting impatient. “Anything. How have you been? I haven’t really talked to you lately. You have been going out really early, and coming home late.” He sounded extremely sincere. “I’ve been fine, and since when do you not care that I came home after curfew.” She was practically yelling now, even though she couldn’t exactly figure out why. “I do care that you are late, but it’s obvious to me that you don’t listen to me when I say you need to be home earlier.” His voice had risen slightly, but it was nowhere near as loud as hers. She wanted him to yell, she needed him to yell. “Then why aren’t you yelling at me today? You usually come outside and start yelling at me right in front of the neighbors.” She couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t yell at her like normal and let her go on with her night. Why is it that this time he actually wanted to talk to her? He never wanted to talk. “I was just not in the mood for an argument. I felt like treating you like an adult tonight. Letting you make your own choices and figure out when you want to get home on your own.” He was standing now, almost yelling, but he caught himself. He sat back down, and began reading again. “Fine. I’m leaving again.” She stormed out of the room so fast, that she barely heard him say okay. Kayla was out the front door and down the steps in a matter of seconds. She sprinted across the yard and out the gate. Fuming as she walked down the road. She didn’t know where she was going, but right now, she didn’t care. She had to get away from him. Since when did he start treating her like an adult? When did he decide that he couldn’t control her anymore? He didn’t even try to punish her. A tiny part of her she thought she had buried deep down inside ached with the pain of what had happened. Ached at the thought of her dad giving up on her. She tried to push the thought away, she was happy that he didn’t care. She was finally in control of her own life and she could do anything that she wanted. She was happy, that’s what she kept telling herself. It was a good thing and her face showed the look of victory, but inside her heart was broken.

Ravi Singh

The Incident It was almost the end of the fourth quarter, and it was the last game of Rajon’s basketball season. His team, the Knights, were very excited to play the Red Hawks, because they had lost to them the last time the two teams collided, and the Knights were looking for some revenge. The score was 7168, in favor of the Red Hawks, with one minute left to go. The pressure was building for both sides. The coaches were getting worked up, yelling at the players from the sidelines. The crowd was cheering and both teams were equally strong. All of a sudden something occurred that changed the whole atmosphere of the competition. Rajon accidentally hit his knee on an opposing player’s forehead, as they were both going for the loose ball. “Ooops” said Rajon, as he bounced back from the recoil. The spectators could see that the sudden strong impact had taken a toll on the 15 year old child. He got up slowly, but then collapsed again. Shortly after, the referee realized what had occurred and blew his whistle. Both school coaches ran towards him in service of aid. Unfortunately, the child’s mother was in the stands watching her child, as he rolled of the floor with his hands covering his face. She ran screaming, calling out his name “Josh! Josh! Are you okay?”. Security called 911. Rajon, realizing what he had just done, started turning blue. The boys on the Knights were whispering that he might have had a whiplash. No one knew if the kid was severely hurt or if he was still capable of continuing to play the game. Shortly after, the paramedics arrived, and they rushed inside the gym with a stretcher. Everyone was asked to leave the gym until they had taken care of the child and checked on Rajon, to see if he had no injuries from the accident. After two minutes, the paramedics carried the child outside to the ambulance in the stretcher, as everyone watched. They said that he would be perfectly fine by tomorrow morning; he was just shaken up from the unexpected bump. The teams were called back into the gym to resume the game. The atmosphere and spirit was lost. The teams just continued to finish off the last quarter. But you could clearly see that the pressure and intensity was no longer there. The noisy and exciting play had taken a hundred and eighty degree turn. The accident damped the efforts of both teams and the Knights had once again lost.

Michelle Smith

Thanksgiving Day

Anchorage, Alaska has always been a peaceful town. The neighbors were quiet and usually stayed home. Moose and bears roamed the streets. Many people feared for their lives. Families were small, two kids and a dog. Well that’s how it was for the most part anyways. They weren’t like the stereo type Alaskan people. They had lives but they found it difficult to work around the snow, and the animals. They had internet and TV but it was pointless to own a car because the snow was too high. There wasn’t much there except a few stores but they were very far apart. AT a store called Carter’s Market, Kyle stood waiting to get a turkey. “Hey! That’s my turkey. I walked all the way over to get that, and on top of it I reached for it first,” shouted Jim. “Well I have to take this home, this will probably be my mom’s last Thanksgiving,” yelled Kyle. “My grandma died last year and didn’t get any turkey. You don’t see me whining about it.” “I’m going through a really hard time. I would appreciate it if you gave the turkey. Then we can both be on our way. This is the only one I can afford.” This was the last turkey for the season. There was plenty of other meat but Jim and Kyle really wanted to be the hero’s of their families. They wanted to be the ones to bring home the feast. Be the big man of the house. Kyle’s dad died in a horrible care accident when he was 8. Jin’s dad was a low life: he was an all around bad dad he had never been around. So, there was one thing both boys had in common and that was they had to the man of the house. They both had lost their father’s. Kyle’s face turned bright red and he grinded his teeth with frustration. Jim could see Kyle’s anger and found it funny. He decided to see how far he could push his buttons. “Then go to a different store. It’s kind of a long walk, but if you run I bet you could make it just in time. ‘Cause you know what Kyle I am the one holding it.” “I have already been to all the stores in town,” Kyle explained. “You know what? Just take it I’ll just give my family caribou for dinner.” “No, Jim just keep it. I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your family.” “That is your problem Kyle. You are too nice and let people walk all over you. Plus you are a suck up. Who tries to make everyone feel sorry for you.” “No I’m not.” “Yes you are. If you don’t stop being so nice everyone will walk all over you.” “That is going to happen. You have no idea what it’s like to be me,” Kyle sobs. “What do you mean? Why do you have it so hard? I have always been jealous of you ever since we were little. You have the girls, the money, your captain of the football and basketball team. What could you possibly make your life so bad? Jim’s eyes filled with tears. He was starting to get upset and Kyle knew it. There was nothing he could do. He was never good with helping people when they were crying. Especially when that person was crying about him. Kyle did not know how to handle things very well. Since Jim was giving attitude, Kyle thought he had every right to do it back. “You sound like you want m to feel sorry for you or something. Well you know what I don’t feel bad for you at all.” “Wow okay? Well if you are done I’m going home,” Kyle sobs. “Wait, Kyle…If you want you and your can come over for dinner. We can all share the feast…If you want.” “Thanks for the offer, but I have to go.” Kyle says impatiently. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” “I can’t, I do feel” Bang! Kyle was on the floor. Just laying there motionless. Jim got nervous and started to sweat. Franticly looking back and forth. He stood there speechless. “Kyle!.... Kyle!....Kyle!?” The store was silent. The air as cold as winter’s day. The feeling of death crept into the air. A sudden jolt brought Kyle back to reality. “Oh my gosh, are you okay. I’m so happy you’re alive.” “Yeah, I’m fine this only happens when I...” “Only happens when you what?” “I don’t really wanna talk about it. It is kind of personal.” “No, you have to tell me this isn’t something that just happens. This is serious we should call 911.” “Okay, well this happens to only certain people in my family. I have never even told anyone this before, but I can see the future. The store grew silent again. Stunned Jim stood there with his mouth nearly to the floor. He had no clue what to say, he wasn’t excepting his Thanksgiving to be so different. When Jim stopped staring and snapped back into reality, he stared harshly. Kyle grew worried, for the fast he might lose his old friend. So many questions filled his mind. Is he going to hate me? Will Jim tell my secret? What if he beats me up just the other kids at school? “Jim, say something… What do you think” Are you mad?” “I can’t believe you never told me this. This is amazing. I’m stunned, speechless.” Jim was very delighted that Kyle trusted him so much. This day brought them closer together. They started to hang out more. The kids at school started to be friends with Kyle, because he was hanging out with Jim. No one else knew about Kyle’s power. One day soon they would all find out what he was capable of, but that. That’s another story.

Joseph Uchytil

Dream Comes True “Yawn, man I got a terrible night of sleep my beds feels so rough and bumpy,” said Cameron. As Cameron started looking around his face started to look funny like he was weirded out and he was happy at the same time. Like when you get a new toy but it looks a little funky and you have no clue what it does, even if you don’t know what it does your still happy because you got a new toy. “What the heck is going on this isn’t my bed and this isn’t my room what is going on.” Cameron got up and got out of the bed and went to the door. He started to reach towards the door hand shaking, scared to open the door not knowing what’s going to be on the other side. He grabbed the knob and slowly turned it when he opened the door he saw a picture across a small hall that wasn’t there before and in the picture he saw himself with his parents. “That’s strange I don’t remember taking that,” Cameron said to himself. “Honey is that you are you up,” said Cameron’s mom “Is that you mom,” Cameron said. Bang! “Wow what was that.” Cameron said “Hey I’m back in my own room now, with my nice soft comfortable bed with its silk pillow (that has a weird smell kind of like the smell when you just finish mowing the grass, I know its weird). I must have been dreaming only if that were real now that would be so sweet,” Cameron said. Cameron got out of his bed and tried to find out what that noise was that woke him up. He was looking all over his room trying to find something that fell or hit something else but after scanning his room for a second he couldn’t find a thing then he heard it again. “Weird that came from dad’s office I wonder what’s going on.” Cameron said Once again he goes to his door but this time he knows its real and not a dream. He opens the door but this time all he sees is a blank wall instead of a family picture. He walks slowly still a little tired and drowsy because he just woke up. As he slowly stumbles towards his dad’s office he starts to hear a faint noise that sounds a little like crying. “That’s strange the only time I ever hear crying is when some at school gets hurt, I’ve never heard anyone cry in my house before,” Cameron said. Cameron slowly sneaked over to a window so he could see what was going on but it was just a little to high so as he was getting a chair to stand on there where tons of images going through my head trying to find out what was going on. Maybe he was watching a video of some sort, or is it possible that dad is crying for joy. When Cameron returned from the kitchen with a chair he placed under the window and stood on it. “O my gosh is that what I think it is, my dad is crying and its not crying for joy what could have happened. What could have happened to make him cry I didn’t think it was possible for him to cry what could be going on.” Cameron said Then Cameron saw something on his dads computer, it was an email. The email said that Cameron’s dad’s corporation was failing and that they just lost all their money because of some big lawsuit. After cam saw this it started to make him think about that dream he had, that made him so happy. “What if all that became true, what if we become a normal family that I always dreamed and wished for. This can’t be it has to be some kind of joke there’s no way something so amazing could happen in only a couple of minutes, a second ago I was dreaming of the perfect life and now it’s a reality, how is that possible.” Cameron said. Cameron’s saw that his dad was about to get up and leave his office so he walked back to his room with the biggest smile he has ever had. “Man this is even better then that time my parents got me a tree house filled with video games, a new, bike, and a new fifty inch plasma screen television,” Cameron said. There was nothing that could ruin his mood now. As Cameron was laying in bed he was thinking of all the things he would do with his parents after they started there new life as a new family, go on picnics, go to the carnival, even get to know new people that could become friends. So Cameron fell back to sleep with a big smile on his face and feeling better then ever. “Hey honey there is this really funny email that my friend sent me you need to see it, I laughed so hard I cried.” Cameron’s dad said.

Steven Vederoff

The Reunion A man stood in the front of the boat looking over the water and over to the port as the large ship neared the dock. Looking over the bay it is a beautiful day to be out on the water. The sun was shining and bright in nice, warm, May weather. The man looks ahead and sees the many seagulls and other aquatic birds flying overhead, the warm sun shines on his face. He looks down into the clear coastal water and sees fish swimming just off the side of the boat. Yes, it was a great day to be out on the sea. He turns around as the smell of food cooking in the galley wafts up to his nose. “Well, we’re almost there,” Says a voice behind him. He turns around and sees his sergeant coming up to him out of his cabin. “Yes sir,” He says back. “Got any big plans for your first day back?” “Not really.” “None?” His sergeant looks at him curiously. “Sort of.” “Aw, come on, you can’t hide it from me, you’ve been dying to go back since we left three months ago. You can’t hide it from me; you’ve been counting the days The man emits a sigh of defeat, “Well, the thing is I’m really looking forward to hopefully seeing my sister.” “Your sister?” He raises an eyebrow in question, “I was thinking it would be a girlfriend, but your sister? Not trying to be rude.” “That’s okay, the story is that I have never seen my sister, she was born a couple of months after I shipped out overseas. The thing was that a couple of days after she was born the doctor found out that she has diabetes and it was very unlikely for her to live. I have only seen pictures of her, and I hope for the first time in my life I can see her in person.” “Oh, I’m sorry, is she still alive?” “I don’t know, a couple of days later, while I was waiting for another letter, we were sent off on that special mission. Of course my parents didn’t know how to contact me so I never found out if she lived or not.” His eyes start tearing up as he looks longingly towards shore. “The sergeant turns and puts his hand on the mans shoulder, “ Austin, you are a good man, most of the men in my squad, the second they reach shore, they run off the boat and run up to their girlfriends and talk to them, then they talk to their family afterward. They show no love to their family, all they care about is the affection of their lover. But you, you have gone through much more then any of those men would ever dream of. And the one thing that kept you going was your love for your family. I respect that, and I respect you. Now I don’t know what is going to happen when we reach that shore, but I wish you and your family the very best of luck.” “Thank you sergeant,” Says Austin and salutes, “That was very inspiring, you know sir, you have been my role model since I first arrived there at the army, I looked up to and respected you from the beginning. You are a great man.” He starts to cry, but he holds his tears back. “Your welcome, now I have to leave now, and I don’t think that I will ever see you again, but for the rest of my life, I will always remember you as the most valiant man in my squad.” He says, and then he turns around, and walks away from Austin, heading to his cabin. Not two seconds after the sergeant shuts the door to the cabin does the boat loudspeaker go off, “Attention, attention, we are nearing the dock everyone get ready to unload.” A couple of seconds later, the doors open and tons of men in uniforms pour out the doors and move over to the portside and stare in anticipation over the dock. One or two men see someone they recognize and wave and family or friends. As the boat gets nearer the man leaves his spot at the front of the boat and goes to push through the crowd to see the dock. He finally pushes to the front of the crowd and gazes out over the crowd trying to locate his parents. He scans through seeing person after person, couple after couple, and child after child. Then he sees his parents his dad sees him and waves, his mom sees his dad waving and looks at him and the she starts waving. He sees them and he sees the smile on their faces and he knows in his heart that his sister is alive! Then he sees his mom duck down and he can’t see her through the crowd. Then she comes back up with a small toddler sitting on her shoulder. She looks around and waves a chubby little hand at nothing in particular. The man starts crying and charges down the ramp jumping the last few feet to the dock. He runs to the small, chubby, toddler and sweeps her into his arm crying and embracing his family. Back at the dock, the ship shoves off and starts to leave the port, heading back overseas. Up on the deck, the sergeant is standing on the edge of the deck, looking out at the scene as the ship leaves the dock. If you go up close you can see the sergeants face, a single tear starts to come across his face as he happily witnesses the scene among the reunited family. All of a sudden a cold breeze picks up, chilling the sergeant. He leaves to go inside, but the man named Austin and that happy scene will be engraved in his mind forever.

Kingsley Watkins

Unlucky The car ride was still. There was no noise from inside the car, only the sounds of the city. Cars honking and zooming by, teens hollering and ranting, dogs barking, and then the slight sounds of nature. Although mostly covered up there still seemed to be a hint of the sound of nature. There were young crows chirping for their mother in need of a fresh worm or a nut plucked from the nearest tree. But the noise that I kept hearing over anything else was the nervous breathing of my mother. It was a nice day. The sun was shinning brightly and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The newly sprouted trees and plants were blowing in the spring wind like ocean waves. Windows glistened in the powerful light of the sun and was directed into my eyes. I remember waiting at the second to last stop light. The smell of freshly cut grass and newly bloomed flowers rushed into my nostrils like Niagara Falls. The crisp air was ripe every time I took a whiff through my nose. The next thing I remember was sitting at the next stoplight. The last one until we reached our destination. Suddenly the few clouds in the sky covered the sun and my world went dark. The beautiful and sounds turned into a cluster of noises ringing and banging on my eardrums, and the sights became blurs of colors and objects spinning. Then I was going down an imaginary tunnel to a place I would never forget. My mom was in my face when I woke up. I was at the doctor’s office. The building had a faded paint job of light purple with a violet trim. The roof had looked as if it was newly re done with midnight black tiles. There were planters surrounding the building filled with eight stocks of bamboo each. The parking lot was small and looked like it had been paved by a drunken man. There was a faded red staircase going to the front door. The railing was wobbly and weak. The whole place looked like it had been and old house that was transferred into a tiny office. On the inside it did not look as nearly as bad as the outside. The paint was new. The desks were made of a nicely polished oak and had fancy trim. The computers were new top of the line Dell’s with large monitors. There were waiting chairs made to fit a king. But through all of that I was most focused on my name. Waiting to hear my name be called by the receptionist. Finally I heard it. “Jason. If you could step right this way please.” She said. My seventeenyear old heart was pounding. I had no idea what the outcome was going to be but either way it wasn’t good that I was here. I had broken my mom’s trust. I should have never gone to that party. We used to have a great relationship until that night. I always think to myself “what would have happened if I stayed at home in my comfy bed?” and I know that if I didn’t go my mom would still trust me and we wouldn’t be going through this huge mess of dishonesty. Thinking about all of this while still sitting in the waiting room chair I was finally pulled up by my anxious mother. “Come on. Jason lets get out of here so I can go home.” I was yanked out of my chair and set into a march down the “endless hallway of doom.” Suddenly we made a right hace into a room. It was just a regular checkup room. There was one chair and one stool. In the corner was a hospital bed waiting for me to sit on. When the doctor came in my heart sank. I had no idea what was going to happen. “Hey Jason, nice to see you again. I hear you are in for a drug test,” said the doctor. “Yup. That’s the reason.” I said. “Well why don’t you step right this way and we can get you started with a urine test. Just go into the bathroom and pee in this cup for me and then I will test it.” “Ok. When will the results be in?” “Usually it takes about three to five days for the results come in but no longer. We can’t keep our patients waiting.” He laughed I pretended to laugh at his dumb joke. He giggled at his own joke and I didn’t want to make it obvious that it was not funny to me at all. I was still nervous of the things that might come in the future. I didn’t know if I was going to pass or not. I had smoked a little but I don’t know if it was enough to show up on the test. Now I am thinking to myself that I wish I had told my mom the truth in the first place. Then, I wouldn’t have to go through any of this. The day was nice but it didn’t matter because I was standing in a bathroom trying to pee in a cup. My dishonesty has led to so many people’s inconvenience including mine. Now I definitely wish I never went to that party. I was done. I peed I the cup and I was ready to go home. I was ready to hit the road and never go back to that office again. I wish I could never talk to that doctor again but here I sit waiting in my home to intercept a call from him, hoping I can get to the phone before my mother. Suddenly the phone rang. It wasn’t me who answered.

Anna S. Williams

The Studio Shayla walked over to the mixing board in her studio and adjusted the bass level on her vocal mic, where she had been recording all afternoon. It was spring break at Roosevelt High School. She lived her whole life in Spokane, but hoped her music would take her elsewhere. Shayla took her time off from school to practice her music. Her father barged in, “Oh, I didn’t know you where in here,” he said. “Dad, I told you to knock. If I’d been recording you would have—” “Honey,” he said, cutting her off. “I was going to start breaking down the studio. I’m sorry. We need to get rid of it. This is a waste of space.” “Dad, do you hear what you’re saying.” “I’m not saying you’re a waste of space…” “I’m just saying that there are better things for you to spend your time on, then sit in here recording music. Its just a waste of your time” “It’s not a waste of time!” shayla yelled. “Do not raise your voice at me, we are having a normal conversation here.” “Dad, I know you don’t respect what I do, but you can’t just take away the only thing I have left of mom” “Shayla, I’m not trying to take what you love away, but I need this room for my office. And you need to focus more on your school work then playing stupid music” Shayla rolled her eyes. “So now what I do is stupid?” Garey walked across the room and sat on the couch. He sighed “Okay, here’s what we will do” Shayla waits for her dad to speak as she rests her head on her hand. “We can keep the studio here, but….” Garey stands up and walks over to Shayla. “but you have to stay more focused in your school work, when you are done with all of your homework then you can come in here” Shayla smiles “Okay, thank you so much dad. This means so much to me” Shayla walks over to her dad, and gives him a hug. “I love you, dad” Garey leaves the room and Shayla continues to practice her music.

Nicholi Wytovicz

Walt’s Lawn Walter was a very intelligent man. He always had exact numbers in his head about everything he did. When he did everyday chores, he had numbers running through his mind. As he put away all of his clean silverware and plates, he would count how many forks, were used today. How many knives were used yesterday. How long it would take for these things to be correctly cleaned by hand. His definition of “correct” is being washed by hand. He never really liked the whole idea of having machines do all the dirty work for you. That was how he was raised. His mom told him that he had to do everything by hand. Why do something with a machine when you can do it by hand? That’s why lawn mowers were interesting. He didn’t like the idea of owning a lawnmower, but he did at the same time. It had the convenience, but it went against all his morals of having machines do the work for him. A push mower was more of his style, but it took five times longer than what he wanted. If he wanted to get his lawn mowed in one hour, he could pull it off with his gas powered lawn mower. Sometimes he needed a workout, so he would pull out his oldschool vintage lawnmower. The one with no bag, two wheels and eight bloody, sharp, blades. He would take a look at the lawn and make a estimate in his head how long it was going to take him to mow his lawn with his conventional lawnmower. He looked at his lawn. It looked knee high, but was only ankle high. His mind was fooling him into thinking it would take longer than he planned. He estimated that it would take one hour. He had an unusually large yard. If you compared his lawn to his neighbor’s lawns, his looked like the Titanic and theirs looked like Tug Boats. It was unlike anybody’s in the whole city. He owned a yard that was five acres. He had multiple offers from people wanting to buy it. He declined. He moseyed his way over to the crook in the lawn, then motioned for the cord that would power up the lawn mower. He glared at his mower for five minutes. “Where is that cord?” Walter questioned. After ten minutes, he realized that it was a conventional lawnmower with no engine. He felt so foolish. He chuckled and got straight to mowing the lawn. Foot over foot, step after step, he mowed the lawn, he trimmed the lawn. He was a busy man. All of that labor, was making him build up a sweat. He was exhausted. The funny thing is, he was 45 minutes into the mowing of his lawn, and he was only onefourth of the way done. He didn’t know what to do. With leisure, he laid down on the grass, and closed his eyes. He drifted off into wonderland. “Its 8:00?!? I started the lawn at 3:00! I need to hurry up!” Walter rose off of the ground in one swift motion. Powering left and right, he did a spiral design into his lawn. It looked somewhat like a hypnotist’s spiral. It was so intricate and beautiful he didn’t know how he did it. “I didn’t even know that I could make a grass lawn look beautiful.” He snickered. He worked up a sweat and was ready to get a nice cold glass of ice tea. He paced into his house. Every step got slower and slower. He wondered what was happening to his energy. It was similar to Superman’s power being drained by kryptonite. Numbers were flowing through his mind. First, the number one appeared before his face, he counted. Then two, three, four, five and so on. Finally he reached ten, and as ten passed through his head, it knocked him on the head. “Ow! Why was I just hit in the head by a number?” “I’m real life. Deal with it,” the number ten said to Walt. Walter thought he was going crazy. Why am I in an imaginary land? The only thing he was missing was a rabbit with a clock. “Really? Since when do rabbits run around with clocks attached to their necks?” he yelled as a rabbit with a clock ran in front of his face. Being a left handed person, he used his left arm to pull himself to his fridge. He finally got to his refrigerator, but then realized, his fridge was fifteen feet tall and he was only five. Or his fridge was five feet tall and he was only one. He struggled to climb open up his refrigerator, the task went from an easy open to climbing his counter, to his stove, then to hanging onto his fridge handle. This task was very awkward. Climbing into his fridge, his face got splashed with water. “What is this?” he looked up and saw that his freezer was melting! “What are the chances of that happening. I’m short and now, my freezer is now melting.” He was wiping off his face. Until he opened up his eyes and realized that it was only 3:12. The lawn mower was still sitting there in front of him. He stood up. Looked around and saw that it was starting to rain. He decided to forget to mow the lawn and write a book about his “adventure”.

Ms. Etter Period 6

Table of contents:

Sarah Berbache Chantal Butchart Keegan De Vitis Katie Dilts Jason Dimaano Ana Etley Amanda Hartley Kimme Johnson Madison Kowalski Joshua Lam Mareshah Legaspi N. Martinez Sarah McDaniel Ravyn A. Davidson Alexa Schafer Nawal Sheck Keegan Small Desiree Snider Roger Vargas Roslyn W. Francis John Dela Pena

Sarah Berbache Words The town where Sami and his small family live is the place to be. Its day life is very traditional, meaning that it is very ordinary, dull, and boring. When it comes to its nightlife though, its streets are lit up like Christmas day and also the streets are full of people, so that if you dropped a penny it wouldn't be found. In the town lives a friendly little boy, Sami. He has brown hair, and his black eyes shine against his white skin. Because he is polite and respectful, everybody likes him. He lives with his father and his baby brother, Fadi, who is only three years old and requires much care because their mother died. Although Sami is only fifteen years old, and he is only in 9 th grade, he looks after his baby brother while his dad works. Sami begins to feel helpless between his friends who have fun everyday after school, and taking care of his baby brother. Neighbors blame Sami for Fadi’s constant crying. His stress is like a frozen water pipe that is about to burst. He cannot help feeling upset over Fadi, who is stressing him and taking up all his time and not letting him hang out with his friends. It is a sunny day; the sun is shining, the air is hot, the smell of the jasmine flowers is everywhere, and the parents are getting their children from the preschool, talking about how their day was, and how they are going to spend the rest of it. There is Sami standing behind the big, white door waiting for Fadi to get out from preschool. After a while, Fadi gets out of the room, and you can see happiness slap him in the face when he sees Sami standing in the doorway. Fadi run into Sami’s arms and gives him a hug. ”How was your day, brother?” Fadi asks him with a happy voice. Sami doesn’t answer him, and he keeps walking. Fadi notices how mad he is and asks, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” said Sami. “So why are you so quiet?” “I’m just so tired,” answered Sami. “Oh, that’s why, I thought you were mad at me.” “Actually, I am.” “Why? What did I do?” Fadi asks. “Are you asking me what you did?” Sami replies with an angry voice, ”Because of you I don’t have fun with my friends, because of your constant crying, I am the one who gets blamed on every time. You are the one who is taking up all of my time, and you are asking me what you did?” When Sami stopped talking and looked at Fadi’s face, his brown eyes were watering, but he didn’t start crying. He was looking at Sami’s face in a sad and confused way, he didn’t even make one move, he was just staring at his big brother, trying to understand what he just said. Sami looked away, and started to walk faster, imagining what it would be like to leave his little brother behind; but after half a mile of walking, Sami realizes what he has done to his two year old baby brother, and the image of his mother telling him before she died to take care of Fadi, and to put him in his eyes, and never ever leave him alone, pops into his head. Sami runs back to find Fadi with his eyes are full of tears and a brutal dog blocking Fadi’s way. The dog is bigger than a cat but smaller than a sheep, black with brown eyes and fat, you can see his sharp teeth when he opens his mouth. Sami dashes at full speed, mindless of the sticky sweat from the hot air and his own fear that drips down his face. He hurls his body toward the dog with its bared teeth, ready to tear his flesh wide open; still he lands with his feet planted firmly between the fierce animal and his trembling brother. His chest heaves in an out and with blazing eyes full of determination, he dares the dog to try to get past him and harm his innocent and precious brother. Only Sami and the brute exist. The rest of the world is motionless as in a sad fairly tale where a wicked witch puts all to eternal sleep. Defiant, Sami and the canine lock eyes. After what seems an eternity, the dog begans to stir, the first to break the prolonged stare down; with a sluggish lowering of his head, he secretly conceals his tail between his back legs, and backs away. After another moment of silence, the dog turns his head slightly to the right, sniffs the summer air, and gratefully walks away. Once he is certain that danger has left with the ferocious beast, Sami quickly jerks his head to face his little brother; although Fadi’s eyes glisten with wetness, he does not shet tears. He looks up at his big brother, leans his body forward, wraps his arms around Sami’s leg and nestles his head there as droplets of relief, gratitude, and love began to rain down his face. Sami scoops him up in his arms, and wordlessly holds him until Fadi understands that his big brother loves him and is truly sorry for all of the hurtful things he has done and said him.

Chantal Butchart Untitled It was the time of year when the days were longer, the air was warmer, the grass wasn’t as wet and best of all school was almost over. Lots of people would come to the park with their families. Children would never want to leave and the skateboarders would stay till it got dark. It was the best place in the neighborhood to be. Roisin and Annie were sitting on a hill at a park down the street from both of there houses. From where they sat they could see the two baseball fields in front of them, the playground and bathrooms on the other side of the park. To their right they could watch the skateboarders. Behind them was a tree that they could go under for a little shelter if it decided to start raining. The park was a place where they could talk about stuff they didn’t want their parents to hear, a place to get away the troubles in their lives, a place to be themselves. Roisin was most worried about getting yelled at by her mom for not getting her work done. Being the most normal child out of her other three siblings in the family, her parents expect her to make up for the chores that her siblings couldn’t do. Her two older siblings, a brother and a sister had developmental disabilities, and her younger sister was too young to do any work around the house, leaving the chores for Roisin. She had more responsibilities than she could handle. Such as making dinner when both parents were at work, doing all the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming, and feeding the pets. Her parents expect her to be home by 5:30 for dinner. She tries to get her work done as soon as she can to have the most time possible with her friends before she has to be home at “dinnertime”, even though dinner wasn’t usually ready for a couple of hours. Most of the time she doesn’t have much fun with her friends because she is so worried about the time. Roisin goes to the park is to get away from the yelling, the pressures from responsibilities and to get away from ciaos in the house. Annie is a whole different story. Annie’s parents weren’t as strict so she didn’t have to worry about them, unless she had to watch her sister. She has a little sister that annoys her. She is trying to get into a good college. To get into a good college she needs to get really good grades. So far, her first year of high school, her hard work has gotten her where she wants to be. She is afraid of not becoming a doctor; she doesn’t know what kind yet. However, she knows that being a doctor is what she wants to do. Annie goes to the park to get away from her sister, and the time consuming distractions of her room. While working at the park she was able to do what she needs to accomplish. That day was just another normal trip to the park, or so they thought. The girls would sit in the same spot, under the same tree everyday doing their homework. Sometimes getting distracted by the frequent smack of the rubber on the hard concrete, or someone failing at one of their repeatedly practiced tricks, or the screams from children playing on the other side of the park. Occasionally another friend would walk by and say “Hi”. Then they would remember the consequences of not going home with all their work done. Their parents had told them both that if they couldn’t work while they were at the park they would have to do their schoolwork at home. This kept them motivated to get the work done. They both heard a loud thud. Simultaneously looking up wideeyed Roisin said, “What was that?” It only took a moment for them to both realized that one of the skaters was lying on the ground. Not moving. A friend of the skater had good sense to called 911. Minutes later an ambulance was there to carry away the skater on a stretcher. The girls had a hard time seeing what was going on through the crowd that had gathered right in front of them. Accidents like that didn’t normally happen, so everybody was anxious to see what was happening. They would have tried to get a closer look, but they didn’t want to pack their stuff or loose their spot to the growing crowd. “For some reason he looks very familiar”, Roisin said with her forehead wrinkled, trying to think of were she had seen him before “ He is in our science class, remember”, said Annie obviously. “ Oh yeah. I wonder is he is going to be okay?” said Roisin with a worried expression on her face. “I’m sure he’ll be fine”, Annie said less concerned “Your probably right... what do you think happened” said Roisin trying to calm herself down after all the excitement, but was having trouble. “I could hear two people talking, they said he fell off his board and went head first into the cement” “ We’ll probably hear more about it tomorrow at school” So soon after what had just happened, everything seemed to be normal: the skaters were practicing tricks, the kids were playing, the mothers were reading, and joggers were trying to avoid the walkers. Except Roisin couldn’t stop thinking about him, tomorrow can be a long time to wait.

Keegan De Vitis Untitled If there’s something that every guy’s locker room has in common across the world, it’s sweat. They always smell like ass, but what can you expect? It’s full of men no, boys that just got done with strenuous amounts of running and exercising that, in my case at least, is brought on by your father trying to make you “champions”. What’s more, is that these boys act a lot like how their locker room smells; they tend to be asses. This is what I endure on a daily basis, and on Friday night, I get to look forward to going up against another clan of asses led by their equivalent of my dad trying to make them “champions.” I am, of course, talking about football, which happens to be the bane of my life, but I put up with it. I have no choice. My dad is never happy with me after a game, but it’s even worse when we lose. “Why didn’t you catch that pass? It was in your fingers! If it touches you, it sure as hell better be a completion!” That would be my dad. Drop the gamewinning pass in the biggest game of the year and I suppose you’ll have a few new enemies. The car was enveloped in darkness as the sun had set a few hours prior. “It was too high. Number 42 on their team hit me before I could get it. It should have been a penalty. You know that. Passing interference?” I complained, even though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. He doesn’t care whether or not it was a penalty, or that the guy was a monster. “The hell it should have been! Excuses, excuses, excuses! You didn’t just make yourself look like a spineless little boy; you made the whole team, me included, look stupid! What the hell is wrong with you?” That was the first time he looked at me since the play. That was two hours ago. Even when he gathered the team together after the game, he didn’t even give the slightest glance.

The rest of the ride home he didn’t say anything, but you could feel it. He was most definitely furious. I’m also shocked that I didn’t catch it. Hell, I was even angry with myself too, but not because we lost the game because of it. I could’ve care less about that. But because people saw me drop it. They saw me lose the game. Me. People love football in Sacramento. They absolutely love it, and I got us kicked out of the playoffs. This is it. I’d never live it down. I’d never be Ross Dixon the cool, but Ross Dixon theguythatdroppedtheballandmadeus misstheplayoffs for the first time in 12 years. Catchy, huh? Somewhere in the silence of the ride, I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was light out. I was still in the car. Confused, hungry and cold, I looked around and checked my phone. 8:53 A.M. It was 10 o’clock when I fell asleep in the car. Unlike most people, I never could wake up when the car I was sleeping in stopped, and obviously my father didn’t feel the need to wake me up. The cold leather against my back quickly brought me back to my sense, and I looked out the window again and saw our house was egged, and moving signs were in the yard and other items I’d rather not know about… It was obvious everyone felt like my dad. I sat in the car for another hour or so. The cold seeped through my body and I let the silence calm my nerves some. I knew my life was about to spiral downwards, but little did I know just how far I was going to spiral. That’s how bad my life would end up being. It’s funny, I remember there were birds chirping happily just outside the car that day. I wished they’d stop. A jogger ran by too. She stopped right next to the car and looked at the yard; she was looking at the mess of my yard. It was quite a sight. A few moments later the slapslapslaps of shoes hitting pavement began again and she went off. I wish I could’ve done that. Just run. Stop by; see what was happening here, and leave. She knew whose house this was, everyone in town did. Sacramento may have been big, but not the part I lived in. With that, I got out of the car. It was about 10 A.M. now. The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car was the smell of rotten egg. I don’t even think I smelled it as much as I tasted it. It was terrible. Why the jogger even stopped for as long as she did I never knew. My eyes were watering by the time I crept in the house, and I saw my dad. In the house there were bags packed, as if someone would shortly be going on a vacation for a long time. At the time I could only guess, but now I look back on it and I should’ve known. Anyway, my dad was sitting in the kitchen, waiting. Waiting for me. He didn’t feel bad about leaving me in the car. He was just as angry as before. Maybe even more so. All he did was glare at me. He didn’t offer me food, he didn’t offer sympathy, and he didn’t try to make me feel better. In fact, all he did was pick up the keys, started walking towards the door, and told me: “Get your bags, we’re going.” Thus began my spiral downwards.

Katie Dilts

Too Much Dust

Now, she is walking. A fast walk, Anya was the kind of person who wanted to get in and out without any trouble. Today, she was heading out to the market in her town to gather ingredients for dinner, and for the rest of that week with her brother Charlie. This was a weekly chore, a chore to which she always found very tedious, but whenever her brother would accompany her, it wasn’t all that bad. Her brother Charlie, wasn’t really her brother at all. She only calls him her brother because he is the closest thing to a family that she has. Anya and Charlie both work in a house as the help to a rather obnoxious family with the name of James. They weren’t cruel to them, they just never paid them any attention. You see, Anya and Charlie did a lot of work in that house, and the family was loud, naive, and ungrateful to what they had. They would always make Anya and Charlie do this, and do that without giving as much as a thank you or a quick nod. But on the plus side, they had places to sleep, and food to eat, and work wasn’t easy to come by in that town. Anya was used to this life. If you saw her, you would think that she had always lived this way, but that is not the case. Seven years ago, she was a happy girl with a loving family. But her house and parents were consumed by a horrible fire. Something no one deserves. She was then left on her own. Anya didn’t have anyone to go to, so she was left on the streets until she found work as the help at the James house in a city not too far from where she used to live. Even though she was very young, and most places wouldn’t accept her as a worker, she kept trying anyway. The James family hired her, because they could care less about how old she was, as long as she could work. When she started working for the James, she met Charlie. Charlie was only thirteen and had been abandoned at a very young age, and can barely remember his parents at all. “Charlie, do you have the list?” Anya asked. “Yup, got it here. Mrs. James pretty much shoved it in my face so I wouldn’t forget again.” Charlie said. “I remember.” Anya smiled. “Oh do you? Then thanks a lot for defending me when I said I didn’t forget it!” “But didn’t you? That one time you had to go out by yourself?” “I didn’t forget it. I just misplaced it.” Charlie mumbled. “Right. Well good thing you have it now, or we’d be in trouble. What’s on the list?” “Uh, we need to get apples, tomatoes, chicken, uh, what does that say?” Even though Charlie was a smart kid, he had trouble reading, because he had never gone to school. He had picked up reading over the years, but still had trouble with it. He didn’t like to ask for help, even when he really needed it. He always got embarrassed. Anya knew this, so she tried to let him do everything on his own, even though she was so willing to help him out. Anya glanced at the list Charlie was holding up and read “Tortellini.” “Right.” Charlie said, blushing a little. Anya could sense an awkward silence coming on and she quickly said, “Those shouldn’t be too hard to find.” As she grabbed a red, plastic shopping basket. They began their trip through the market by walking down the isles stored with various products and grabbing the items that were on Mrs. James list. “Alright, how many apples do we need?” Anya asked. “She said she needed“ Charlie began. Charlie never finished his sentence, for right at that moment the shelves that held the market’s products at the opposite end of the store crashed down onto the shelf next to it and that shelf fell down on the shelf next to it, and they kept falling down on top of each other. One by one, it was like a domino effect. There were about ten isles in the market and now there were about six still standing, soon to be five. People stopped in their tracks, some tried to get out of the way, while everyone was in a panic. Anya and Charlie just stood there as the shelves came crashing down toward them, not being able to move. Suddenly, Anya felt herself being thrown into Charlie and the both of them falling to the floor right as the last shelf came crashing down where they were just standing. She immediately sat up and tried to see what was going on, but there was too much dust and her head was throbbing from hitting her head on the floor, making it hard to see. People were screaming and shouting all around them and Anya could barely make out a shape through the dust. A dark figure leaping over the shelves, desperately trying to escape the crowd.

Jason Dimaano The Final Tennis Match It is a hot sunny day in the middle of summer while most kids are having fun at the beach or watching the Red Socks play the Yankees. Rick was either at the tennis court training for his career or studying for school. His parents didn’t care what he did they were always gone on business trips. They only cared if his grade point average dropped below a 3.5. Rick, an astronomer student in college, is fascinated with stars and the thought of a parallel universe is amazing to him. Although right now Rick’s in an important tennis match, and it is almost final point. If he wins he will become a successful pro tennis player living the dream, on cribs and doing what rich people do. But if he loses he still could get recruited but the chances are slim and he will not live the dream he wanted to live since he was very young. The score in overtime was 99 it was so close that both players could taste the win. The game was to 10 win by 2 but it was a break for both players. You could see the eager faces in the crowd. The bleachers were split in half one side for Rick and the other half for his opponent it was a full house. During the break Rick was dreaming about what would happen if he won he thought about Rafael Nadal or Roger Federer he could see himself playing against those professional tennis stars. But his opponent was thinking of something else his opponent was thinking what would happen if he lost? He thought about the shame and about how close he would have been to winning, and losing only by a couple of points. As he looked up he could see his family and all his loved ones. He thought about how disappointed his family would be but then the buzzer sounds and that means the game will resume both players look up and start walking to the tennis court. As each player starts walks you could see the adrenaline pumping through their veins and how nervous each player was. While walking each player knew this part of there life was pretty much going to determine if they would be pro so it felt slow mow. As each player gets to the line there past flash backs in their mind. Starting tennis at 4, taking private lessons, and joining the tennis team, training with pros, joining this tennis academy and now the final tournament. As Rick gets to the line its his turn to serve he tosses the ball up and hits it with as much power as he can. His hit was as fast as brand new sports car speeding down the free way or a Falcon swooping down for its prey. It is a perfect serve right down the middle at 103mph. Rick had won the point the crowd starts cheering, Rick only needed 1 more point to win the game the score was 109. Now it’s his opponent’s turn to serve. His opponent starts his serves immediately after he hits the ball he approaches the net with all he had, Rick returns but then his opponent slams the ball and wins the point. The other half of the bleachers goes wild the score is tied at 10. Time for another break Rick walks up to his opponent to talk to him. “Nice hit,” said Rick. “Thanks,” said his opponent. “Your really good,” said Rick. “You’re really good yourself,” said his opponent. “This is a really close match,” said Rick. “Yeah,” said his opponent. “Good luck,” said Rick. “Good luck to you too,” said his opponent. It is Ricks turn to serve now he serves it then his opponent returns it, he hits it again and then his opponent top spins it to Ricks back hand it rolls off Ricks racket and out. Rick curses in his head but then he cools down because its just 1 point. The score now is 1110 his opponent. The announcer calls this is such a close match this was definitely worth watching. The game resumes its Rick’s opponents turn now to serve. He tosses the ball up and hits it with all the power he has in him the speed if the ball on the speed catcher says 120mph. Rick barely returns the ball then his opponent slams it into the net. His opponent stays calm but Rick is so happy he missed. Rick knew if he returned that slam then he would have lost the match and his dreams would be gone. The score is now 1111 it is Rick’s serve now he hits it up and serves as hard as he can. His opponent returns it with just as much power but crosscourt. His opponent won the point the score is now 1112 it is such a close game both players think now both players know that they are pretty tied. It’s Rick’s opponent’s turn to serve. As usual he throws it up and slams the ball as hard as he can again Rick barely returns. Rick returns with a lob Rick knows that his chances are slim of his opponent making the same mistake. His opponent slams the ball and it goes in. Half the crowd goes wild! While the other half is really quite. Rick is so sad that he lost he started to cry a little. He goes up to shake his opponents hand after they shake. He thinks about what he will do in life now that tennis is crossed off the list. He thought maybe that this really wasn’t what he wanted. He still is a smart kid with a 3.5 in this tennis academy. He thinks maybe I will full fill my next dream of becoming an astronomer.

Ana Etley

Acceptance I stepped out of my car and shuffled up the stairs to the front door, snow crunching under my feet. As I took a stride in, a blast of warm air hit me. Inside my mother was there, staring at me. Her big brown eyes practically popped out of her head, she didn’t look mad, just very aware of everything. She is a slim, tall woman with light brown hair that comes down to her shoulders. “Hello Emily. How was school?” she asked. “Fine,” I said as I started up the stairs to my room. “Your father called!” I froze for a moment then walked back down to my living room where she was waiting. “He wants you to come visit this summer, for a week during July,” she said. I stared at her waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t so I decided I would. “Oh… what did you say?” my heart began to start racing and I hoped she wouldn’t notice. To be with my dad in Florida was the one thing I wanted more than anything else, even for just a visit. My dad was everything that my mother was not: fun, playful, and laidback. The last time I saw him was more than 3 years ago. My mother would never let me visit, there was always some excuse. “I said you couldn’t do it… You have that camp, remember?” I sighed and couldn’t help but show how disappointed I was. “Yes, I remember,” I gloomily said. I started up the stairs again and she started to talk. I didn’t want to hear so I kept on going until I got to my room and shut the door. It didn’t matter because she followed right behind me. “Emily! Don’t get mad at me for this, you wanted to go to that camp, I can’t control the timing of the camp or your dad!” she snapped. I couldn’t take it. I just wanted to scream! She’s not the innocent one in this situation and she knows it! She can’t control me forever and I needed to let her know it. “No I didn’t mom! I never wanted to go to that camp! I never have a say about anything that goes on in my life, you control everything I do!” I screamed. I had never yelled at her a day in my life, and now I wish I had. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t have the urge to leave, but to keep yelling. For a second she looked stunned, and then her face quickly became bright red with rage. Her mouth opened and I swear I saw a little bit of fire spurt out. “I am your mother, I have the right to control you! And if you didn’t want to go then why don’t you just speak up! Your acting like you’re the innocent one but you have a voice, use it. Your not a child anymore Emily.” “Exactly! I’m not a child anymore; I can make my own decisions so let me! Dad always wants me to come but you never let me!” I replied. “Do you ever wonder why your dad doesn’t come here? You think I’m so bad, but I’m here At least I’m here…” Her voice was almost a whisper now. A tear slipped down her face and she slowly turned and walked up the stairs. Another new thing. I had never seen her cry. Through everything she went through, she never cried, she’s the strongest woman I know. I was speechless. I had never thought of it that way… I had always pushed the blame to my mother. Suddenly I was overcome with sadness and guilt. My mom just wants the best for me and I know it. Everything she said was right; my dad really didn’t want me… all he wants is to have fun, that’s all he ever wanted. A new feeling comes over me: stupidity. I don’t know why I had never thought of this before. He had never even attempted to get me from my mother’s and take me home, and now I know why. He had never wanted me home. Suddenly the world was frozen and memories flashed before my eyes. I closed my eyes and the memories were more vivid. I saw my parents yelling. A scared little girl walking to her father but her mother grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door, and that was it; the moment my life was ruined. Now more than ever, I was that scared little girl. I stepped out the door and onto the hard snow. It had been snowing for days nonstop. Light snowflakes drifted down and landed on my face, melting instantly. I slipped to my knees then laid down on the ground, looking up at the gray sky. Everything was silent except for a slight sound of muttered cries. For a second I wondered where it had came from but then I realized that is was from me. I stayed on the ground for about two minutes before my skin started to sting. The temperature must have been about 18 degrees. I got to my feet then walked back into my house, where the same blast of warm air hit me like before. I wondered what my mom was doing and thinking, and when I could get a chance to apologize to her. But I didn’t have to wonder for long because my mother was there sitting on the couch, back towards me. I slowly approached her. When I got to her I looked down at her and found that her face was red but free from any tears. I barely managed to slip out the next words before my voice cracked. “You’re right. I’m sorry,”

Amanda Hartley Untitled The waves in the sea are crashing on the sand like a cat pounces on a mouse. It’s dark and the sun is just about to set. The air smells of salt and burning rubber. As I lay down in the warm moist sand, I think, what a day, life is good. I think to myself, please don’t let me go back home, I love it here. It’s so beautiful. I miss Maria, I sigh. All of a sudden I hear footsteps coming toward me on the beach. It’s dark and I can’t make out what or who it is. I just sit there and wait for whatever it is to come to me. Then I see it. It’s Prestin running towards me at full tilt. I duck as it looks like he is going run into me. “What are you doing?” I say. “I have been looking for you.” he says. “Why?” I say. “I just didn’t see you at all today, you weren’t at school or anything!” He’s almost completely out of breath; the expression on his face is overwhelming. I cannot describe it. It looks like he hasn’t seen me in 5 years! “Why do you look so bewildered? It’s only been a day and sometimes I need time alone. We can’t be together ALL the time, Prestin.” “But you are my best friend and I have known you forever. I thought something had happened to you because I couldn’t find you.” “Well we are with each other now, right?” “Yea, I guess, I just missed you was all.” Prestin is very protective over his friends and family, he cannot stand being alone for too long. He is also 1 year younger then me so that also makes a difference. “You want to sit down?” I say. “Yea sure. Where were you at school today?” “I like to take a day off every once and a while, it’s good for you” “Yea, I get what your saying, I have just never had the guts to do that because of how precautionary and watchful my parents are over me.” “Well that’s fine.” I say. “You shouldn’t be pressured into doing anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. If you want to go to school, then go to school, it’s your life and you make those kind of choices on your own.” “Yeah I guess I should.” “You see, when you are young everything seems like the end of the world, but it’s not. You just have to keep hold of the things that you like and let go of the things you don’t. Then just breathe and enjoy the ride.” “I love you man,” he says. “I love you too.” “So you like it out here?” he says. “Ya, I really think it just is a place to unwind and not have to think about anything, I love it. It gives me a chance to clear my mind and start a new day.” “That’s good, you always have the best conceptions. Oh, there is one thing I forgot to tell you. It was the reason I came darting up to you in the first place. Prestin’s hurt, he got rushed off to the hospital today at school. He is going to be okay but he might have a broken arm.” “We should go visit him.” “Okay lets go now, we can walk there.” As we set off for the hospital, it starts to darken as the sun slips down over the horizon. We disappear into the darkness. In about 2 minutes we are in Prestin’s hospital room. He is sleeping and lifeless. It’s late and we know that tomorrow is going to be a new day. “We have to take life one step at a time. You cannot look into the future until you have figured out your past so live life as if you will die tomorrow and dream as if you will live forever.” I say to Parker. As the day comes to a close, we head off to our separate homes, waiting for the next day to come, because everyday is a new adventure.

Kimme Johnson Sneaking Out Blurrb Blurrb Blurrb Blurrb, My indicator that Tyler is sitting out there waiting for me. Snatching my shoes, phone and lighter, just incase. Throwing it all in a bag I tiptoe my way across the room, dark, only lit up by the small moon’s light coming in through my opened window. My house was placed by a river in a small town Louisiana called Bon Temps. My room down the hall and to the left of her sister Avery and three rooms away from my parents, right out side of a porch. Easy access to sneak out. My greatgreat grandpa used to own a big cotton farm and had a big southern mansion, like the ones in movies, white with multiple stories with a roundabout porch circling the home. I silently pop out my screen, climb out, and while walking down my front steps, something caught my eyes. “Dad?” “Shiloh Marie, what in heavens are you doing out of your room at this hour?” “What are you doing out of the house at this hour dad?” “Worked late I recon just opened a new case with a rape vict.. Don’t get me off subject here Shiloh. What are you doing?” “Nothing dad, I just recon I needed some air, that’s all. The house can get a bit stuffy in late July.” My mind was spinning all of a sudden, dad never works late. He’s always home by at least 9, the office closes. What could he be doing that would make him arrive home at 3 in the morning? “Than explain Tyler’s truck, and why he’s in the drive way.” “T..T..Tyler who?” “Take a seat Shiloh, we needa’ talk.” “Alright”, I took a long pause and than sat down next to my father on the swinging chair. “Shiloh, You’re old enough to know that s..” “DAD! I already know mom already gave me the sex talk, you can stop” I almost immediately cut him off. “Shiloh, please I wassent talking about that, but I’ll just leave it at, just don’t let your mother find out.” He said, almost if he was giving up. “Don’t let mom find out what?” I said with a kind of curious manor. “Well Shiloh, when people get married and have children, it is very hard to keep..” “Dad, what really were you doing, I know you weren’t at work.” I said slowly, cautioning my self. “Shiloh, we all have our secrets, we all have our fantasies.” He said slowly, mumbling to himself. “Dad, what did you do?” “Me, and your mother, your mother and I, just aren’t in love like we used to be..” “Wh..Wha..What do you mean?” “People fall in and out of love Shiloh, we find new mates, were animals us men, cant decide whether or not you’re really inlove.” He said still mumbling. “What happened.” Time immediately stopped in that moment of time, I didn’t want to know the real truth. But at the same time the truth was almost un resistible. What would mom say if she found out? I mean they fought all the time, but I never thought my dad would go this far with it. Hm. “Shiloh.. I’m having an affair with another woman.” “Oh. Um.” My mind was spinning so fast I could not concentrate on what to say, I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t talk, slowly a lump grew in my throat, I tried to breathe, and it was almost impossible. “Shiloh, I’m so sorry.” “What if mom found out?” “She’s not going to its our little secret, ok?’ I couldn’t get the guts to say to him no its not, what am I supposed to say to that, he is pretty much telling me don’t tell the president, but I’m going to bomb new York city. What does a person say to that? This couldn’t get anymore miserable. “Who is it.” “Her name is Cheryl Pumpernucks.” I couldn’t help but giggle at that name. “What are you laughing at Shiloh?” “Her name.” “Oh. Alright, just do not let your mom find out.” “No promises.” I felt kind of bad for him, cause of the whole situation of me catching him, but I didn’t really care about him as much as me leaving Tyler out there waiting in his truck the whole time. But I really couldn’t decide whether or not I should tell my mom. I probably will in time, but ill wait a few days to break our the news. “Wait what do you mean, no promises?” A wisp of realization came over me that very second, my dad was in love with another woman, divorce is soon to happen. My heart dropped, it felt like one of those rides at the fair where you go up really high than drop all of a sudden. My parents were breaking up. “I mean that I think, that well, I just think its sort of wrong not to tell mom about it, I mean that’s a awful thing to do, it makes me sad. I just can’t take you guys breaking up. It hurts; did you think about Avery, did you think about me? I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing, especially when you have a family to hold.” I tried to spit out, that lump growing bigger. “Shiloh please..” “Dad, no. Don’t tell me that everything is going to be okay, cause it’s not.” “Shiloh, if no one but me and you know it will stay a secret, we will stay as a family, were okay.” “No dad were actually not, cause every time I see you with mom I will see you not being happy and I will see you with another woman. It’ll never be the same.” I couldn’t take it any more, I needed to get away from him, I needed to run away. Not even thinking about what I was doing I quickly got up and started running for Tyler, it felt like not even a second went by when my dad called out for me to come back, I ignored it. I just wanted to be with Tyler and never go back to my family that won’t be there when I get back. And that’s exactly what I will do.

Madison Kowalski

Where to now? The school day was going slow as usual, well speaking from the point of a first day sophomore, and I could still hear the ringing from the alarm in my ears. My fingers were so cold I had the sensation that I might have frostbite, and I was so hungry I could have eaten an elephant. My day had a surprise in store, that made my morning feel like nothing compared to how it would end. As I walked down the hall, the school day coming to an end, I was just preparing to go to my best friend, who I nicknamed ‘Blondie’ house. “Hey.” This was my best friend, Blondie who was of medium build, and had long blonde curly hair. I noticed as she walked down the hall with me that she looked a little troubled. “What’s up, I know I have a lot on my plate right now” “Nothing much, but if you get any louder, they will be able to hear you in China. So there’s something worrying you?” I replied with curiosity hinting in my voice. She had recently been complaining about how I never hear her music or watch her movies, but it’s not her fault they suck. I mean seriously watching the same guy end up with the same girl for “true love” was more then I could put up with. As we stepped out the doors we headed to her house. I wondered what she had planned today. “Here’s the thing, I don’t seem to understand why I feel like I’m falling and I feel like its time to go away,” she said, her eyes just watching where she stepped as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Are you serious? You’re the one obsessed with rlife, and suicide is like your polar opposite—” “I know! Jeez, I’m not stupid or psychotic, but I have this nagging feeling in the back of my head to go away and see the world,” she said with such a gleam in her eyes as she looked out towards the exit, as if it was the door to the world. To bad that up here in Everett, there was nothing to see and nothing to do. With agitation I stated, “Could you make anything more built up, the suspense is filled—” “Listen I came to you because I want to be able to see the world and know what’s really going on out there. I don’t need you to judge right now, I just need you to listen!” Whoa. This was way out of my comfort zone, I had always been the one talking that I never even noticed that something was even going on. The fact that she had turned to me instead of her boyfriend, her parents, or even herself was a big deal. I was going to try not to ruin this, but it seemed like I was walking on glass and it could go either way. I then zipped it and listened the best I could. “So I have been reading and it seems that the more news I read, the more I notice that the little details aren’t there.” I had begun to notice the path that we were walking down, the vines reaching across as if keeping a secret. To think of all the stories they were entrusted with and what they must feel to be trampled on. Getting sidetracked because when I look at her, I know that she will be going places, and following her dreams. “I ran with this idea, that I could be a reporter and see the world as it actually is be able to get all the information I not only want but crave.” As she spoke it ran in my mind that she had really thought about this for a while and was taking guard for any arguments I may have. I was like a tester run so that she could work out the kinks. “So then—” she had apparently been talking as I lost track of my thoughts “Listen, I will totally support you, but this is a lot to digest. I will help you raise money, break the news to your parents, but why you are getting defensive is agitating because for heaven sakes you know that I am on your side no matter what. I will never stop being your best friend but… have you noticed anything?” She looked at me with confusion, and I knew she didn’t. I didn’t walk this path as much as her, but I knew as we came to the top of the stairs to finish down are path, that the tree were over grown, the flowers were as tall as me, and that the ground was covered in living things. These were all signs that something dark and mysterious was right up ahead, maybe even around the corner. I was excited and nervous to find out what it was. As we kept walking I realized that listening to her go on about her dreams, I really had ignored her for the sound of my own voice, but she still trusted me. Not to tell, not to help, not even to support her, but she had been bottling up her feeling for so long that she finally let it out and I was lucky enough to be trusted with this information, to watch what was happening. As the skies cleared and a smile planted on both of our faces, we walked and I just sat back and listened to her go on all about what she would see and do in the places she traveled. “In Italy I will taste the wine, India smell the spices, and in France discover love.” “I think that sounds wonderful…but how long can you wait before you are going to have to be free?” “Always the pessimist,” a slight chuckle from both of us to me being pessimistic. “Do you think that maybe you’re starting to actually grow up, maybe even act like an adult?” “You call me the pessimist, idea of me growing up is almost heartbreaking, I mean,” I smiled slyly know that what I wanted to say would come soon enough. “So you want to travel? What are you particularly interested in?” She smiled, I may have been growing up, and in that moment my friend could have changed me for the better. I knew that are friendship could only expand, but my concerns at that moment was where was this conversation leading to and what is she even talking about. I mean yes she…man do I sound like an adult, oh well. Anyway I hoped that the walk home would go by slower so that I listen more and more of all the places, smells, and sight seeing she as going to do. As ‘kids’ we were as carefree as time allowed. That’s why I wasn’t expecting it when she said. “I leave tomorrow on a train for New York at 6:00AM…” A pause could only be excepted as I tried to let this set in shock written all over my face. “But I will probably miss you the most.” A tear rolled down her face as we kept walking

Joshua Lam Love is Innocence Candy, Sharon and Louis were at a beach called Tai Wan in Tai Long Wan. Tai Long Wan, also known as “Big Wave Bay,” is a place in Hong Kong. There are 4 beaches in Tai Long Wan, and one of the beaches is Tai Wan. Tai Wan is the longest and the most famous. “Wow! The beach is incredible!” Sharon was surprised. “This is awesome! It’s so beautiful here.” Candy was looking around. “But your brother is here. He’s so annoying!” Sharon grumbled. “I know, I know. I’m sorry that he came." Candy felt embarrassed because of her brother. “Why does he have to come with us? Sharon asked. “I don’t know. He just said Tai Long Wan is far away from the city. It’s dangerous for us. He also said even though Tai Wan is awesome, it’s dangerous because there’s no lifeguard here,” Candy answered. “That’s why we choose this beach. It’s quiet because Tai Long Wan is far away from the city. It’s beautiful because there is not crowed of people, and no development here. The urban area in Hong Kong is so crowded. We came here to relax, but he goes wherever we go,” Sharon replied. “I’m sorry for my brother.” Candy sighed. “That’s fine. It’s not your fault, Candy. Let’s see what the danger is! Come with me!” Sharon went to the sea. “You go first. I’ll come after you,” said Candy. However, Candy felt sorry because her brother was there. She sat down on one side and looked upset. Louis noticed that. He came to Candy and said, “Didn’t you come to the beach for fun? Why are you staying here? “I am not in the mood now, stay away from me!” Candy sounded mad. “Because I’m here? You know why I’m here. I’m here because I’m worried about you, because I care about you, because you’re my sister! I worry that if you were drowned, or your stuff were stolen, you were in an accident no one would be here to help you!” Louis explained as if he was her father. “But I am not a baby! I am 15 years old. I can handle it! I don’t want you to follow me wherever I go! ” Candy looked at Sharon. She was playing happily. She wanted to join her, but she couldn’t back down. “So? Do you know what’s an accident? When it comes, you can’t stop it!” Louis’ eyes became red. Louis and Candy lost their parents when they were 15 and 13. Since then, Louis has had to take care of the family. Louis always wants to protect Candy. He doesn’t want to lose his family anymore. But he knows Candy doesn’t like that. She wants to be free. She doesn’t want Louis to always asks where she is going, what she is going to do. “Whatever, I’m fine now. Can’t you see? I didn’t get hurt.” Candy retorted. Sharon came to Candy at that moment and said, “let’s go, Candy!” “I don’t want your care!” Candy ran to the sea and jumped into it. Louis started looking around. He saw two couples were playing, pouring water onto each other. Besides the couples, there was a family also. The father and the children were playing with the sand. They were making a sand castle. It looked fantastic. The mother was having a sunshine shower. Louis looked further. And he saw a couple playing with their dogs at the beach. Suddenly, Louis felt lonely. Candy and Sharon decided to have a swimming competition, and they had a bet on it. Whoever lost, she had to tell who she loves. They started to swim. At first, Candy was leading Sharon. Sharon knew she had to hurry up. If not, she would lose the game, and would have to tell Candy. Therefore, Sharon swam harder and speeded up. Besides, Candy was getting slower, and she saw Sharon had almost reached her. Thus, she tried to continue heading to Sharon. But Sharon still exceeded Candy. However, Candy didn’t give up. She did what she could do to speed up. She tried her best to swim faster. Unfortunately, Candy’s right foot twitched at this time. She couldn’t swim, and she was drowning. She had to be helped out of the water. On the other hand, Sharon finished the race, but she couldn’t find Candy at the goal. So, she swam back to the beach. At this moment, Louis noticed that Candy was in trouble. She was drowning. Louis jumped into the sea. Louis speeded up to his full speed, and swam to where Candy was, but he couldn’t find Candy. Candy had disappeared. He started worrying about Candy. Suddenly, he saw Candy. He tried to save her, but the wave hit him back. He swam and swam. Fortunately, he is good at swimming, and he is in the swimming team member in the school. Therefore, he caught her finally, but she wasn’t well. He took her back to the beach. “Candy! Candy!” Louis called, and he was doing CPR to Candy. “Don’t scare me, Candy. We haven’t finished our match. Wake up and Beat me! And I’ll tell you who I love. Get up!” Sharon yelled. “Wake up, Candy. I promise you I won’t control you any more,” Louis said. “Come up…” Sharon cried. Louis had done CPR several times to Candy, but she still didn’t wake up. Louis didn’t give up; he tried harder, harder, and harder. Finally, Candy woke up and coughed. Fortunately, she just drank some water and she was okay. She was not bad. She felt Louis was trying his best to save her life. Louis looked at Candy, it seemed like he wanted to cry. Candy hugged Louis and started crying. She knew she hurt Louis’ heart badly just several minutes before. She couldn’t stop crying. “Everything is fine, it’s safe now,” Louis said as he hugged Candy and said softly. “Candy…You woke up finally, Candy.” Sharon felt better. “Stay close to Sharon next time. Take care of yourself. I can’t always take care of you,” Louis told Candy. “Sorry…Sorry…” Candy choked. “Everything is alright. Let’s play again. Be careful, Candy.” Louis touched her head and smiled. “Let’s continue our match!” Sharon calm down and said. “Come with us, Louis. I’ll beat you.” Candy pulled Louis to the sea and swam with them. “If you can, I’ll let you,” said Louis and jumped into the sea. “Let’s go,” said Candy and Sharon. They jumped into the sea also. Of course, Candy and Sharon were no match with Louis on swimming, but that’s another story.

Mareshah Legaspi Why Did I Do That? She parks her car at the parking lot. She gets the keys out of the ignition and grabs her coat at the passenger seat. When she gets out of the car, a breeze comes by her. The park was pretty that day with the sun shining around with the green crisp evened grass. Kids running around laughing when parents are chasing them at the playground. As she passes by, she is continuing her walk to place why she came to the park this day. This was the place where everything started. Where she was happy, excited, and anxious each day. She’s attached her memories at the park that can’t get out of her mind. Those memories come back to her while she is about to sit on the bench with her eyes closed. At that moment, visioning all the memories she hears voices coming by, like walking in front of her, opening her eyes and sees the guilt that’s right in front of her. “Hey Debra!” said John walking toward her with this pretty girl right beside him. Getting off the bench Debra replied, “Oh, hi John?” “This is Kari.” He said, introducing her. Confused and nervous Debra said, “Hi, I’m Debra.” “Debra is a really…good friend of mine.” He said to Kari. It’s nice to meet you,” Kari said. John asked Debra with curiosity, “What brings you to the park?“ Debra knows she is being really peculiar to Kari. Looking at Kari she notices some similarities with her. She sees she is skinner than her, has a cute smile. She has a nice body almost like a supermodel. She seems more like a girl that the guys would be drooling over. “Oh, um just walking by myself,” Debra replies. “So Kari, how do you know John?” Debra asks Kari.” “Um, I met him atyou remember where?” she looks at John. “It was here, yeah like right at this very spot, he’s smiling back at Kari.” “Really?” Debra grows more curious to how they met. Debra’s feeling silly to ask this stupid question, “How did it start?” “I was playing catch with my friend, Dave. He accidentally threw the ball to far and the football just hit her by accident when she was reading her book.” John responded. “Yup, kind of awkward that the ball hit me but he made it up, with a date the next day.” Kari said, smiling at Jon. “Oh I see.” Debra said, acting really shy. “So Debra, what brings you to the park?” John asked Debra. “Um, I just like taking walks around this track.” Debra replied with a grin. In fact, she’s there to visit those memories nine months ago. Being with John, when they sat on the bench during the afternoons talking to each other, holding hands or cuddling. Or whenever they were off with their friends they would text each other morning to night, because they missed each other so much. There were her happy days when everything she seemed to be perfect. It was like a fairy tale to her. She had the guy of her dreams. “Um Debra?” John said. “Uh, yeah…” Debra replied, walking to reality. “Kari and I are going to head off now.” John said. “It was nice meeting you Kari,” Debra said. “You too,” Kari said. “Bye Debra.” John said. She stands still, seeing him go away. Thoughts rolled into her mind that made of jealous, Like, “Is he Happy with Kari?” “Did he really move on that fast?” “What else does she have that I don’t have?” “Money, Popularity, Charm, Brains?” “What is it?” While there was an overload of jealousy running through my head, she had to sit down right away. A tear felled down to her cheek. She started crying. More tears coming down on her smooth tan cheeks. She couldn’t stand that he had moved on so quick. “What happened to our relationship?” She remembered…it was her fault. During John & Debra six month relationship, She notice was with John not as much as she use too. Like after being together half a year it started to slip. She got busy with her family, school activities and hanging with her friends but when she hanged with John she was tired physically like she could go to sleep. She could see in John that he was frustrated with her extra curriculum activities. Debra felt bad about what happened. So she tried talking about it with him but he would avoid the subject saying, “It’s fine don’t worry about it.” When he says that, he is not really saying at her face because if he did say it at her face it would feel better for Debra to make her feel, he understands her but he didn’t do that. So Debra sent a text message to John to meet her up at the park. She felt it was right to end the relationship because Debra doesn’t want to hurt John anymore. After she ended the relationship, everything about her fell apart. She didn’t expect to feel all this emotions at once. She became quiet, shy and sad everyday when people are around her. She didn’t feel like talking to her friends anymore. Whenever some family time occurred, she would skip it. When her friends called or text her to hang out she gave an excuse, “I can’t, I have to do my homework.” She became isolated with everyone and everything surrounding her. She can’t believe she broke up this relationship. Her world turned too much. Those tears coming down gradually stopped. As she started walking back, she was feeling chills as breezes came at her. She rubbed her arm because she got some goose bumps. Arriving at her car, she just stands right beside it. Looking at the view of this once pretty place, that turned to her guilt in her heart. She wanted John back. She wondered, “If he stills has feelings for her?” She wishes for two things to happen. The first wish is to have the courage to have a no awkward chat with John when meeting up with him. The second wish, if she asked him to give her another chance. While she is grabbing the keys in her pocket, something lights up on the passenger seat. It was her cell phone. Someone sent a text message to her. She picks up her phone, opens the text message. Immediately, her jaw drops with a gasp. She looks at the number, then instantly realized that she knew the number.

* Text Message said, “ Debra, I miss you so much.” *

N. Martinez Grey Skies The sound of the ocean crashing violently against the rock cliff, the coolness of the wind blowing across my face, the sound of a ball spinning through the air as a kid throws it towards his father. “Heads up!,” says one of the kids playing ball. I am slow to react and as I turn my head, the football smacks me right on the nose. “Are you alright?,” he asks as he comes towards me. “I’m okay,” I reply. As he asks me what my name is. “Curtis,” I say softly. “My name is Luke by the way, do you wanna play ball with me and my dad? he asks. The sun is beginning to set, and the warmth of the sand on the bottom of my soles are starting to cool. As I see the balls fly through the air I wish I had the same opportunity that Luke has .The opportunity to do something with my father. “Curtis…Curtis.,” “Oh sorry, what?” I say, as I snap back into it. “You should really play with us,” he asks again. “I’m okay,” I reply, with a saddened tone of voice. I think Luke sensed it and asked, “ Are you okay?,” “Just leave me alone!” I tell him with annoyance. “C’mon Luke hurry up.,” yells his father from the other side of the beach. Luke runs back to his father and they begin to talk. I see both of them walking my way, so I get up to try and leave and avoid them. “Hey, wait up!” Luke and his father yell at the same time. I continue to walk and ignore them, but before I knew it, both were behind me. “Luke’s father asks, “Are you okay. Why didn’t you want to play with us?” “Leave me alone!” I insist. “Why do you want me to play ball with you anyways?” He replies, “ I want to tell you a story.” “About what?” I say softly. “About my son,?” he says. “Luke?” I asks. “No, my other son, James.” He briefly tells me that James was In the military and James would call every other night. He tells me James hadn’t called in a week, and the next day he found out that James had died. “Why did you tell me that” I ask, felling sorry for Luke and his father. “I told you this because you look sad, and because of what happened to my son, I am always concerned for young people like you.” “I’m really okay,” I lie. They finally leave and go back to the other side of the beach. Back when I was 8 years old, I was sitting on the beach, and I was with my mother and father. My mom took me out to the water and when we got back my father was gone. The day was the same as this. Grey skies, cold winds, and vicious waves. We didn’t know were he was or where he went. He’s gone. I decided to walk over to Luke and his father hesitantly, wondering how they would react to me. The sun is almost down and the water glistens an orangeish yellow color. The skies have become a dark blue and the clouds are mixed with a shade of grey and pink. A sight too familiar to me. “Hi,” I say with guilt. “What’s up Curtis?” says Luke. “Need help with something?” asks Luke’s father. “ Just came to say thanks for trying to help me out,” I say “Well…it’s no problem. Do you want to join us.” I nodded.

Sarah McDaniel Untitled I put my ear buds in, music blaring loudly. Loud enough to drown out the sound of my father yelling for me to get him another beer. But, I will not be getting him one. It would be his tenth, half of the amount he regularly consumes, when my stepmother is out of the house. He will be calling her in about 15 minutes for her to get him more beer, or perhaps he will get a more sophisticated drink. After all, we should be celebrating my birthday. Vibrations from my dad climbing the stairs, still in his drunken stupor, interrupted my trance. I got up quick as I could, packing fresh clothes into my backpack. I jumped out my window, climbing down the tree, and down in front of Sophie’s window. Requiring no effort from me as I had made this climb several times before. I looked into Sophie’s window to see a pair of deep chocolate brown eyes staring back at me. “Where are you going?” she asked innocently. “I’ll be back,” that was always my answer to her question. “I always am.” “Yes, but will you really be back?” this was the first time I had ever heard her question my return. “I promise.” I held up my littlest finger. She intertwined her littlest finger around mine, a silent promise of my return. I ran quickly across the kneehigh jungle that is my lawn. “Wait!” Sophie’s voice called after me. More pleading than anything else. I couldn’t resist running back to her. I ran back long enough for her throw her skinny, tan arms around my neck, and for her to plant a sticky kiss on my cheek. “Going to Dennis’s house again?” She said with a wry smile. For the briefest moment she resembled our mother, deep chocolate brown eyes, dimples and that slightly furrowing brow. “Yeah. What about it?” I returned her smile. And for an instant we looked identical, although I have lost the childish wonder her and my mother seemed to have, “Go to bed,” I said in a patronizing tone, “I’ll be back before you get up for school. I might still drive you tomorrow” “Ok.” She lay down with a smirk. I waited until I heard her breathing slow, making sure she was oblivious to the drunken mess upstairs. I hate leaving her here when my stepmother is at work, Sophie is too afraid that my father will end up dying and she will not be able to do anything about it. I heard my father yell and throw things around my already messy room, something he will regret later. But for now I have to run, get away from the trials and tribulations of life, maybe even have a little fun along the way. “Lily!?!” I heard my father yell, but I was already half way across the yard. My feet getting soaked by the dew just begin to form on the blades of grass. I ran to the black van, pausing for a second to turn and hold up my littlest finger, a silent solute to my sister sleeping peacefully in her warm, soft bed. It broke my heart to leave her and I hated it, I hated leaving her. I wanted to take her with me to Dennis’s but he would probably get mad and tell me to leave her at home with my dad. That she will be fine with my dad, which she won’t be. Sometimes I get so mad at him I just want to scream, but he is my best friend. He helps me through all the things that come my way. When my mom died, I was at Dennis’s all night cocooned in his arms, shielding me from the hurt of the outside world. There has never been a time when he wasn’t there, with a shoulder to cry on or when I need a laugh. There is no romantic link between him and me, though Sophie would like to think so, we have always been friends, and we always will be. The car pulled forward into the blackness only illuminated by the brightness of the headlights. Dennis leaned over and grabbed a CD from the center consol, fed it into the player roughly installed. Music playing as the roads and other scenery passed by in the night.

Ravyn A. Davidson

Saturday Morning Christine woke up one morning, hung over like all Saturday mornings. When she got out of bed she suddenly felt nauseous and ran to the bathroom, she puked up what little she had in her stomach. it. She was used to doing this when she got up on Saturday mornings, its one of the side affects of getting drunk. Jumping into the shower, afterwards she styled her hair, then got dressed. Then went downstairs for some breakfast and coffee, she turned on Saturday morning cartoons and waited for her best friend Amber, to go shopping at the mall. This was routine, every Saturday they went shopping after trying to get over their hangovers. She got off the couch when she heard a car honk, she walked out side and around Amber's car to the passenger side. She got in to the sound of Amber singing along to Ke$ha's song "Blah Blah Blah ". Once seated in the car she turned off the radio. "What's wrong?" asked Amber. "Too repetitive," She replied. "Not the song, what's wrong with you?" Amber asked again. "Still hung over" She replied. "Oh, sorry," Amber said. They drove to the mall in silence. Halfway there Amber wanted to stop by Bartell's to pick up a soda. Still nauseas Christine went in to pick up some PeptoBismol. When she got to the isle with medication she grabbed what she was looking for and walked down the isle with "feminine hygiene" products on it. She doubted her theory of a hang over for a second, but that second was long enough for her to grab a home pregnancy test. She went to the check out counter to pay for her items. Then found Amber and told her that she was going to go to the rest room. She was scared, she really hoped that she was just hung over but she really doubted it. She didn’t even have a clue who the father could be if she were pregnant, she hadn't had any sex that she could remember in months, but she did remember that she was so drunk about a month ago that she didn't remember a thing from that night. Maybe it happened then? She thought. She finished up with the test, she waited the five minutes it said it would take. She started thinking about how much her life would change if she had a kid. No more partying, no more drinking, no more Saturday morning shopping trips. No more good night's rest, no more public school. More restless nights, online classes, staying home on Friday nights and Saturdays. But more importantly, she got drunk while probably being pregnant. Christine started to imagine the future. Shopping in BabiesRUs, bed rest, the birthing of the child, she imagined waking up every three hours to feed the baby. She realized she would have to put off college, she imagined being the only teen mom at the park with her little one, most of all she was scared about who the father would be. Would he be supportive of her keeping the baby? Would he want her to get an abortion? Would he even care? Would he stop partying? She then started thinking about if she put the child up for adoption, what kind of parents would her baby get? Then she started to worry, how is the baby going to turn out? Would it have a disability because she got drunk? How are her parents going to handle the news? How is the neighborhood going to handle the news? She then realized how her mistake could ruin her whole future. Everything that would soon come if this actually happened. Christine didn't realize how long she had been in the bathroom until she heard a knock on her stall door. "Hey, Christine, are you OK?" Said Amber. "Oh hey, yeah I'm ok. I'll be out in a few." She Replied. That is when Christine looked down at her lap, where the pregnancy test was. She started to cry.

Alexa Schafer

Coffee

I never meant to do it. None of us did. These days are cruel to me. Dad doesn’t speak, not that he ever did. Even before she was murdered. I test out Barney’s new flavor. His icecream shop is constantly filled with clusters of hot and aggravated people, waiting for their icecream cone. Carmel chip. The puny chips are filled with liquid caramel. As the warmth from my mouth melts the chocolate surrounding the caramel, the caramel oozes over my tongue. Creating a symphony of caramel, chocolate, and vanilla swiftly coating my mouth. As I sit in the chipped red chairs (Barney painted them himself) I can’t help but consider the ‘what ifs’. What if she was still here? What if it never happened? I stop myself abruptly. Those thoughts do no good to my brain. These intuitions eat at my brain, taking bite after bite, consuming every nerve in my body until I’m completely numb. All I receive from Barney, and everyone else who knows, are stares. They puncture my soul. They devour my every sense of security. It’s been years since it happened, but no one in Marshville forgets. “How you likin’ the caramel chip, Mila?” Barney questions. “Mhhm, oh, it’s just perfect, really good,” I respond, cautiously. “Good, I’m glad ya like it.” My mother was captivating. She loved everyone she met. She could never find something about anyone that she disliked. She was perfect. Her hair was long, golden, and curly. Her eyes were seablue, your typical girlnextdoor; I suppose that’s why my dad married her. They were soul mates. My mom’s favorite drink was coffee. But perplexingly enough, her teeth never stained, they stayed pearlwhite. Marshville was a small little town, one where everyone knew everyone. During fall, the trees are bursting with saffron and lemon colors. Marshville was a town where kids rode their bikes without helmets, and no one seemed to notice, teens would drive their trucks with others in the bed, no one cared. Considering that everyone knew everyone, they all know what had happened. Being seventeen is torture. I can just taste the freedom on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not there yet. Not even close to being let loose among a world I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly blessed with my mother’s charm and good looks. My long ringlets of cinnamon hair and celerygreen eyes aren’t necessarily thought of as beautiful in Marshville. My mother never agreed. I was the “prettiest little girl in all of Marshville” I was a princess in her eyes. Maybe that’s what started it all. I never saw what she saw in me. So I automatically thought all she ever said to me were lies. I met Mitch in the seventh grade. His clothes were rundown and his hair was never washed. I wasn’t a good person, but it was no thanks to Mitch. After we became close, he opened my eyes to a new world. He had an array of pill concoctions that we would consume every hour of every day. No one knew who I was anymore. I wasn’t the little “princess” Mila anymore. Mitch, Jared, and Katlynn were the only people familiar to me. As I walk out of Barney’s, an icy breeze sweeps across my face. As I look to my right, I feel the glare upon my back. Jessie Williams (the town’s most vile old lady) is looking me up and down. Inspecting me. Judging my every flinch and movement. “Mila, How is your father? It’s pretty typical that she would skip right over asking about me. She doesn’t trouble herself with me. She just wants to make sure my father isn’t nearing suicide. “Oh he’s doing just fine, ma’am,” I respond dully. “Glad to hear it,” Miss Williams answers sharply. I decide to take a stroll down the cracked, gray sidewalk. I need the fresh air. As I look ahead, I see two long figures in the distance. I hear the distinct hootin’ and hollerin’ of Jared and Katlynn. I’ve known Katlynn since kindergarten. Her father and mother died in a house fire when she was three. She had to move in with her quixotic grandmother. She’s always been isolated from everyone else. She has many secretes, that she only lets out at one of our little shindigs. I only got to know her during them, and I knew for sure, I was getting to know the true her. Jared was an athlete all the way through the eleventh grade, but then he dropped out of high school. He would have had a fullride baseball scholarship to Brown University, but the pills got in the way of his ambitions. My pace begins to quicken as I approach them. I haven’t spoken to them since the trial. They don’t see me until I am within an arms length. “Mila,” Jared says as he nods his head. “Hey,” I respond in a quickened tone, not wanting to ignite a conversation. I can hear Katlynn suck in a breath. Before I even give her the chance go say a single word, I’ve reached the house. I live in a secluded part of town. Our home is tucked within the peach and oak trees. A curvy gravel path leads to the burgundy house. Sitting on the windowsill is the flowerpot I painted blue in the third grade. My dad must have just replenished the small pot with fresh daffodils. The trial started in the middle of my eighth grade year. My attorney put on the best show. I was suffocated by a world of drugs and alcohol. I was lonely and felt forgotten. It wasn’t even my fault my mother’s dead. I was acquitted. It was just one pill. All four of us, just put one pill in her coffee. She would never notice. She had to do some grocery shopping. She hopped in the car. Apparently it hit her at just the right moment for her to swerve into a pole. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. She died instantly. It was all just an accident. My father is sitting in front of the counter when I walk in, sipping on some piping hot tea. “Hey there Dad. Pretty perfect spring day huh?” “Sure thing,” Riley doesn’t talk much, if at all. He must be having a good day, he has said a whole two words. He wishes I were never born. He would never say that, of course. But it’s obviously true. It’s a harrowing thought that he can’t stand to look me in the eyes, because when he does, he thinks of my beautiful, lost mother.

Nawal Sheck Exchange Imagine being in a new country that you know nothing about – well this is Denzel’s story. Denzel lives in Juan De Nova Island, Madagascar. He is 16 years old and is the type of person interested in learning about new cultures. He finally gets to explore this new culture, but things don’t always go the way you expect. Drama and jealousy will always be there to ruin friendship. At Denzel’s new school, that situation happened to him. At science class, he met this girl. During class they would talk, they had a lot in common. She started liking him and he was starting to feel the same way about her. Lilly was the same age as Denzel. She was dating the captain of the soccer team. Something happened, their relationship wasn’t going right. Lilly’s boyfriend was more interested hanging out with his friends. When Denzel came along things just got even more complicated. After a few weeks, things got even worse. There were rumors that Lilly was cheating on tom with Denzel. Tom heard about the rumors spreading around about Lilly and Denzel, Tom got jealous, so he went to Lilly and asked her “ What is going on between you and Denzel? Is it true?” “That’s not true I was just showing him around.” She told him. A couple of days after, Tom threatened Denzel, saying that Denzel better stay away from Lilly. But Denzel didn’t take anything Tom said seriously because he really didn’t care. “ These are the moments you wish there wasn’t drama.”

Third period was over Denzel was on his way towards the cafeteria when he got there For some strange reason it real got quiet fast, everyone one was glaring at him for some strange reason. Now he was curious why everyone was acting so strange. He got in line to order his food there was chicken hamburger, pizza, and Grill cheese today. “ Umm should I get pizza or a grill cheese”? Tom and his friends came in the Cafteria looking tough all of a sudden the room got really tense, but Denzel wasn’t worried one bit. Lilly was running down the hallways like crazy. She was sprinting like she was in a running marathon. “Denzel (gasping for air) Tom is wants to hurt you. He thinks that you’re the reason why we broke up he won’t listen to anything I say,” Lilly started walking “I really didn’t know where she was going. Suddenly she was halfway through the lunchroom she was heading towards Tom.” “ What do you think your doing? Lilly said “ Denzel has nothing to do with this, it’s between me and you ok.” She told Tom “ No you don’t understand anything Lilly I liked you a lot every time I wasn’t with you I would be thinking about you. Do you even know how I felt when I found out you were with another guy?” Tom told Lily “No I don’t understand why your doing this Tom I feel like your always trying to avoid me I try to hang out with you and you always have a excuse. I feel like it better for the both of us just to end this as friends you don’t have to make this big scene please.” She told him Tom moves to the side and started walking towards denzel. The tension in the room got even worse and everyone eyes were on Tom and Denzel wondering what would happen next. “ You are the reason why my girlfriend is mad at me and wants to breakup.” Tom said “ No actually that is not t the reason why she is breaking up with you. You don’t pay attention to her anymore your to busy hanging out with your friends. Lilly is really nice she was just showing me around.” Denzel said “ Well it seem like you were always flirting with her.” Tom said. The room even got more tension then suddlenly someone shouts out loud “FIGHT”. Then everyone was yelling and it got really crazy, tom was looking around and everything went awkward. Suddenly out of no were Tom threw a punch lucky it didn’t hit Denzel. All of sudden they were both on the floor fighting; no teacher was in the area everyone was yelling and going crazy. All of sudden Tom Friends jumped in hurting Denzel badly. All the students in the Cafeteria were going crazy some were recording on their phones others. Where throwing food around because they had nothing else to do, and the rest were just yelling, “Fight”. All the lunch ladies had to call the staff member because this was something they couldn’t handle at all. Suddenly the room became quiet. But Denzel, Lilly, Tom, and his friends were still fighting. The reason why it got quiet was because all the staff came in the cafeteria telling all the students to come down. The fight stopped all of sudden when Denzel, Lilly, Tom, and his friends stopped the look up and the cafeteria was messy with food on the ground people looking at them teachers yelling. It was a major difficulty. *Jealousy isn’t always a good thing it can get the best out of anyone*

Keegan Small Bullets

Three weeks ago, my best friend Terrence was shot. My memories still haunt me too this day, It took place on the last day of school, the day that I found out I was accepted to the University of North Carolina, and I was so excited, had so many feelings of enjoyment running through me. I sit here and my best friends burial, I feel the tears flow from my eyes, exactly how the tears of rain ran down my cheek on that sad day. I feel the same pain that he must have gone through when that bullet punctured him straight down to the soul. I take it all in, and I pray that he will evidently live in a better place, a place of no war, no guns and overall love, unlike this ghetto we where born into. That of only Heaven. I play the whole story through my head…. Three buddies and I walk down King Avenue on the last day of the school year, the houses hear are broken down, looking like nobody has lived there for a very long time, this is what we call the ghetto. We walk to the bright blue minimarket on the corner of 5 th and King, we go there for specific reasons, we are going to get some weed to celebrate with. I am so different then my friends, I am a good boy with great dreams, but ever since my mom left me when I was 5, no house to sleep in, and only my friends to stand by me with support, I have to do this with them, I am forced into this alternative lifestyle. I am further reminded this when I look down and see my report card showing a 3.7 G.P.A, while my 2 friends beside me, Bo and Terrence have G.P.A’s that are below 1. They are definitely bound for the State Penitentiary. We reach the minimarket, bright skies, flowing with orange and yellow hit our eyes. We walk to the back of the Market to buy the weed, a very rundown market it is, but this town, just outside of New York has always been like this. We all pitch in $15 and buy a fairly large sack of drugs. “Hey Bo, can we go back to your house to smoke this up?” asked Terrence. “No sorry man, my mom is home, lets just go down to the abandoned school,” Bo was obviously not trying to risk anything. The school was about a mile away, it was where all my friends went, but I never went there, I didn’t start to go to school till I was 12. The school had a nice covered area by a playground that was perfect. No cops ever showed up there, and it was fairly well covered, we wouldn’t be seen anyway. We walked down a main street, just outside of the heart of New York, this is prime gang territory that is very scary. I hear a very loud screeching of a car, I don’t take much notice in the car because of the fact that there are always cars screeching here. The car pulls up beside us, 3 Crip members are in the car. In this neighborhood, you don’t take crap from anybody. I am a proud blood, and so are my 2 buddies, we will be surely fighting this rival gang that is harassing us. All of a sudden, guns are pulled, and bullets are fired. Bullets click from the chamber of their guns, just like the raindrops falling down and hitting our shaved white heads. It was like a story, when the weather changes according to how the scene ran, once the guns where pulled, the weather became cold. I turn and run as fast as I can, not caring where I go, who I run into, I just do not want to get shot. I run down the slippery street, my eyes nearly closed because of the rain coming down and stinging them. Cars drive by on this busy street confused on why this mad man is running and crying at the same time, but I do not care. I run till I can not see the MiniMarket anymore, sweat drips down my head, and falls scarred up curb. I take a sharp left into the school and run down a small hill surrounded by trees to a grassy area where we usually smoke. I sit there crying, frustrated, scared not knowing what to think. “Please god, god help me” I cried. I turn around and I see Bo run to my side, and put his arm around me, he was my comfort device. Just like a story, the skies become clear, the sky turns bright pink and yellow, streaks of blood red stroke through the sky like a paint brush with elegant strokes. I have no idea what to think, nothing, all I can hear is my ambitious, crazy thoughts running through my head. “We need to go to hospital Mike, we need to leave right now” Bo spoke in a very rushed tone. We got in a taxi run to the main street that is above the school, we call for a taxi to take us to the hospital. We get in, hardly able to speak. When we finally get to the hospital, we had to wait. We waited 12 hours to see our best friend. When we finally see him in his small hospital room with a terrible aurora running through it. We see our friend, covered in blood, in the small twin size bed, nurses crying, and our best friend is shot cold. The last thing we hear from him is his soft whisper, telling us that he loves us.

Desiree Snider

The Pocket Watch You know you’re dead when you can no longer feel any emotion. No flare of embarrassment, no flash of pain. That’s exactly how I felt that boiling summer’s day. The sun shone brightly, through my window, pulling me awake. The day began wonderfully. My mom was happy, my dad was happy, I was happy. We were all happy. I ran downstairs, eager to start the day. Everything seemed normal to me. Breakfast was on the table; my dad was reading the newspaper, his pocket watch on the table beside him. You see, the pocket watch was special to my father. It was a symbol of my dad’s life; he kept track of every second of his life. My mom was in her usual place, reading her latest romance novel. I sat down, piling pancake after pancake onto my plate.

“Woah there, squirt. You know your eyes are always bigger than your stomach when you’re hungry. Slow it down.” My father smiled at me. He knew my usual eating habits, always stuffing my face the second I was hungry.

“My eyes told me they felt just as hungry so I thought I’d feed them too.” I said back. He looked at me, smirked, and then continued reading his newspaper. He never tried to change who I was, he loved me for me. As I ate, my father folded his newspaper up neatly and walked towards his office. He always went there to relax or continue on writing his many brilliant stories; he was pure genius with his words.

“Hurry up and finish your breakfast, Liz. You don’t want to be late for school.” my mom told me, barely looking up from her book.

“I’m hurrying. You know, something is different about today. I don’t know what but it feels unusual, maybe today will be our lucky day!” I told my mother, smiling.

She laughed, she never did ever believe in such things as “luck”, “nonsense” is what she called it. I finished my breakfast and headed upstairs to change, the good day idea still in my head. I walked into my room, heading straight for my dresser. I picked out the first thing I saw, a plain blue shirt and my favorite denim jeans with the torn holes in the knees; I’m a grunge kid at heart. I quickly grabbed my backpack and searched for my binder, it was right where I left it. I quickly picked it up from my nightstand and put all my things together in my bag. Today felt like no other, today felt magical. I had my things ready to go as I ran downstairs. My mom was getting her shoes when I finally got to the bottom of the stairs. As she got her coat, my father came downstairs to say goodbye before I left for school. Something in his eyes made my stomach lurch, there was something the matter with him and it didn’t look good. He picked me up, wrapping is arms around me giving me the biggest bear hug. Just the way I liked them. He then spoke in a very serious tone.

“Hey, squirt. I want you to know that I love you more than anything and I will always be here for you. Always.” He looked at me as he said this, tears forming in his eyes. The way he said that made me think today might not be as good as I’d thought it would, he never talked too me this way. His words stuck in my brain so deep, I couldn’t stop repeating them over and over through my mind.

“Anything wrong, dad?” I asked this with as much concern in my voice that I could show. I wanted him to know that I truly cared for him.

“Hmm? No, I’m fine. Just remember that I will always be with you. You are my little girl, Elizabeth. Don’t you ever forget it.” And with that he put me down and kissed my forehead, the sadness still in his eyes. What was wrong with my daddy? I kept puzzling this question all the way to school. I didn’t even care to notice my mother trying to gain my attention to me that we made it to school. I knew something was going on but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I walked up the front steps to the building, feeling like I would never be happy again for as long as I lived.

Then, it happened. Like a semitruck crashed into my brain and left an enormous hole. I lost my life at that moment; I lost my life the day my father was killed. I was in my classroom, just getting back from lunch, when I saw my mom talking to my teacher. She had tears in her eyes, “This is unusual.” I thought. As I walked towards my desk my mom glanced at me and ran to hug me with such force I couldn’t breathe at all. As she let go she looked straight into my eyes and told me the news that would change my life. “What’s going on mom?” I asked. “Honey... Daddy… Daddy is dead. He... he… died this morning on his way too work.” Tears poured out of her eyes as every word left her mouth. “He’s.. dead? Daddy is dead?” I couldn’t put my head around what exactly she had just told me. I couldn’t believe it, and I wouldn’t believe it. But deep down inside me I knew it was true, I knew I lost the one man that meant so much too me.

My life and everything I knew about it would be changed forever. To me luck was something you found on the bottom of your shoe, nothing but crap, because today was nothing like I’d thought it’d be. My daddy is gone; someone took him away from me and will never return him for the rest of my days. My father was my guardian, my angel, and my protector. But now, he’s gone, out of my life like a flash of lightening in a thunderstorm. I lost my father today and all I have left are the memories of him and his old pocket watch still tick ticking away.

Roger Vargas

The Last Tale of Giganaut Life is short even when you live forever you watch friends die and new friends be born. Stuff happens and life changes sometimes you are stuck in the past. Thinking that you can change things but failure is common it is part of nature. Without failure things wouldn’t change they wouldn’t need too everything would be perfect and with perfection comes regret. When you think that the world is perfect then you will see it as dull you will wait to see if anything will spice up you’re life but you know it won’t happen. That’s what happened to me Giganaut mouse. My life was perfect I resented this so I joined a gang. A gang known as the Master Blasters it was a gang of wizards but a army from a neighboring country caught us in one of our raids, they shot each and everyone of us except me. Then a giant fearsome looking dragon stepped up ad told me I had two options join the army or die. I went with the option that would keep me from being fed to rats so I joined the army and and almost immediately I became head henchmen. I thought I was in a position were I would be given respect but people said I was only a shadow of my master. So I thought that I might as well kill him to show people who the head honcho is but I failed every single time. So I learned to ignore it and go with the plan. Then it was over. The war ended and the rebellion brought us down I ran into Magi’s Forest to hide. This is exactly where my story begins. “The air is fresh, the forest is blooming, the suns are setting the animals are playing unaware of what has happened, the world is moving slowly like nothing happened the perfect inspiration for a artist I should be speechless. How did I get myself into this? I don’t even know things went downhill so fast I give up,” Said Giganaut suddenly halting “Wait what is that is it a dragon holy crap it’s mastermind I should check on him but then again I could leave him here to be hunted down nah even I am not that evil I guess I should check on him”. “Giganaut is that you?” said Mastermind weakly. “Yes and aren’t you the guy who promised me everything yet I have nothing sigh why are things like this?” said Giganaut. “Well, power is a joke everything that is alive wants power but no one really gets it,” said Mastermind. “That is probably the only thing I have heard you say that was worth listening too. You knew they were going to destroy you and the rest of us didn’t you,” said Giganaut angrily. “Well…” said Mastermind. “DIDN’T YOU!” said Giganaut. “O.K fine I did know I knew from the beginning but power is a soul sucker once it catches you it is there to stay…” said Mastermind beginning to cry. “Wow are you okay I didn’t mean everything I said I was just… never mind,” said Giganaut. “You know there is something I have wanted to say but I have never had the courage,” said Mastermind. “ I know this is a bad time for this but are you coming onto me,” said Giganaut. “No, uh you know Giganaut you are a close friend and I want to just listen. My Farther Cornelius it was his intention to take over the neighboring kingdom he started this war we fought it we were all just weak little pathetic good for nothings in his eyes, including me. He told us that the neighboring kingdom was going to overtake us and we had to fight back. Now we weren’t fools we knew they weren’t but we fought for him we fought for honor he promised us something that was unobtainable he promised us peace if we defeated the enemy kingdom, then he was stabbed through the heart by a Babbleaboo named Daedalius and Right before his death he told me that I would fail that I would be defeated and my country would fall, After his death the army put me in charge,” said Mastermind. “Wow…” said Giganaut. “Wait, why did you fight if you were against it.” “ Why, well let me ask you have you ever been put down told you are no good mocked at every single turn, well let me just say it hurts and my dad left a hole in my heart this made me want to prove myself,” said Mastermind. “So you fought to prove your dad wrong and to prove you are not a failure,” said Giganaut. “ Not exactly, like I said before power consume your very body, at first it was to prove my Father wrong but when I got accustomed to having total control of the lives of others, I became insane it went from honor to blood I just wanted more and more to die I would not be pleased till every single creature in this god forbidden planet was dead and I had my way,” said Mastermind. “I don’t know how to say this but… okay I have to come clean I have wanted to kill you since day one I was planning your death when I first found you lying here on the ground,” said Giganaut. “I don’t understand,” said Mastermind “Well, you were always the great Mastermind the destroyer of worlds and I was just a lowly henchmen. When I was born my parents said I was destined for greatness and last time I checked henchmen are losers you know pathetic scum” said Giganaut. “True but you had friends that is something I never had, you know growing up I was feared by everyone no one ever wanted to talk to me, no one ever wanted to be my friend, do you know why? Well it is obvious why because of my Father I was the outside the loner. I could be compared to a kid who picks his nose in public. It’s not fair at all you prefer being solitary so you understand this lifestyle but me no, my mom taught me that interaction with others that actually exist is way better than talking to my imaginary friend, so I sought out to make some friends but everyone ran, everyone left, I was alone,” said Mastermind. “You know something my Dad always told me was that Life is like a rose without water it will shrivel and eventually die but any rose can be saved even if it is on the verge of death. I always imagined it as a way of saying that you can always be saved you just got to try to find the thing that keeps you breathing, just to put this out there I have thought of suicide before,” said Giganaut. “Really, what kept you going” Said Mastermind “Magic it is the thing that kept me going for all those ears I worked for you the better I got at magic the better I felt because I thought hey maybe one day I will final be able to kill my boss.” said Giganaut. “Well, I guess that I was the rose who shriveled up” Said Mastermind “True but a shriveled rose can always be replaced you still have time why don’t you attempt to correct all that you have wronged” said Giganaut. “I will try…” said Mastermind. “Hmm, I guess dad was wrong sometimes a rose must be thrown away for not all souls can be saved.” said Giganaut.

Roslyn W. Untitled A foul stench hung in the air around the faded pink walls and the sound of the trickling from leaky faucet filled the space and reverberated off the tile floors and metal stalls. As I was waiting, I spent my time reading the obscene statements and the posts on the wall for clubs and sport tryouts. Boring. I turned around to catch my reflection in a scratchedup mirror. On the mirror there were stains from various different types of makeup, more indecent comments, scratches like someone tried to erase an image that they didn’t want to see at all, and a face that I couldn’t recognize anymore. BAM! The door to the bathroom slammed open and startled me. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Ms. Rider made me stay late for skipping class the other day,” said Andrew. “Did you do it yet?” Andrew’s appearance still stupefied me even after all these years. He had Mediterranean glow to him, which included his suntanned complexion and black, tousled, hair that fell in his eyes. He also had the lean body of a man even though he was still in high school and his clothes screamed delinquent from the black band shirts, black denim slim jeans, and the way he wears flaunts his attitude on his sleeves. But what caught my attention every time were his ocean eyes. I’m not talking about the pacificnorthwestgreenishblueblah kind of ocean. I’m talking summertimeinHawaiiturquoise ocean eyes. His appearance combined with his bad boy reputation created a vortex that any regular girl can get sucked in to and never come out, but after years of being exposed to his charm I’m strong enough to swim away from his current. Or at least I thought I was. “No. I just got here,” I lied. A few moments passed and after we just stood there, Andrew, clearly annoyed spoke, “Well?” “Well what?” I said pretending to be confused “You know well what. Just do it. I don’t have all the time in the world and I need to get this over with. I have things to do today…” “Things to do? Whatever. I don’t know if I can! I mean… I’m too afraid. What if it’s ” “It won’t be. It’s not like we did it more than once! Calm down.” He said trying to reason with me. Not working. “That doesn’t matter!” I almost yelled. “You heard what they said in health class!” “They overexaggerate! Try to scare us! A load of bull is what it is!” he said trying to explain to me once again. “Just hurry up!” I walk towards a remotely clean stall and get the package out of my backpack. I open it carefully as if it was a Christmas gift and I was trying to save the wrapping paper. This is no gift, though. In this little box lies my future, one of serenity or one of chaos. “I don’t think I can do it with you just standing there. Don’t you have some ear buds you can put in or something?” I embarrassedly asked. He told me I was being ridiculous and to just get it over with. I begged him to just listen to his music for like five minutes and after a few moments I could hear the faint sound of heavy rock and began to relax and do my business. I soon realized that I really needed to go since I drank almost four sodas and two bottles of water in preparation. I stumbled out of the stall with the need to wash my hands and the hope that I peed enough on it. Put it on top of the paper towel dispenser. “Five minutes.” Was all I could say. “Uhhuh.” Was all Andrew could say. “Okay! Seriously! What is your problem?” I fought to keep my voice down. “You are taking this so nonchalantly when this is one of the biggest things that has had ever happened to me! It should be pretty important to you to!” “First off, we don’t even know if you’re pregnant. Second, nonchawhat?” Pregnant. I hate that word. The very thought of it makes my spin tingle and give me chills. My intuition got the better of me. I walked up to him and he asked me what in the world I was doing. I got a good look at him. Bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, that bittersweet scent, the weird behavior. “Are you high?” Immediately, he turned away from me a denied everything. I know Andrew does some pretty bad stuff like skip class, start fights, get in trouble with the law. He’s almost failing every class; barely talks to his mom and doesn’t have a father. But I had no idea that he did drugs. But the thing is, that I don’t really know him anymore. “It’s not what you think.” He said sensing the look I was giving him. “I’m freaking out! What the hell am I supposed to do? My life is already screwed up enough! I don’t need this! All it was supposed to do was help me, ya know, loosen up a little bit and it did.” “And you think this isn’t going to screw up my life? My mom is a surgeon and my dad is a hotshot lawyer! I’m supposed to live up to the family legacy and if this,” I gestured to my abdomen, “is real then my dreams are ruined. I was accepted to Princeton! It can’t just end like this.” “Do I have to say this again? We don’t even know if it’s real!” “I have never, ever, missed my period before. It has never been unreliable. It has never been erratic. Then I just miss it after that mistake I made with you! Doesn’t that mean anything at all?” We must have just sat there for a few minutes straight of silence before he spoke again. “I hope you know that to me it wasn’t a mistake.” He started making his way toward me and held my hand. I jerked my hand away from his. “Don’t even start that BS with me.” I nearly whispered. I averted my eyes away from his, and started looking around the room again. Anyway was better than having to look at his face. My eyes hesitated on the paper towel dispenser. I slowly walk over to the test unknowingly since I can’t feel my legs. I pick it up and read it. “What’s the verdict?” Andrew said with a complacent smile. Thinking that he was probably right about the whole thing. I looked at the little symbol. My entire body went numb and I dropped the wand, which broke on impact.

Francis John Dela Pena

The Last Minute This is our last basketball game and we’re losing, the score is 5039 and this is the last quarter. The gym is so loud and full of spectators. They are so excited cheering for their school. If one of the players makes a shot, the gym shakes. Some of my teammates are seniors so this game is very important for them because this is their last game competing for our school. If we win there is going to be some scholarships for my senior teammates, but we got a problem, the other team is winning. The only thing that goes in my mind is to win, nothing else, but win! Our team has the ball, and my teammate passes the ball from the baseline then my teammate Harry got the ball, he goes through two opponents and shoots the ball then it went in! “Nice job,” I said. The other team makes a three point shot, my coach called a timeout. “Team those boys are tired we need to make ‘em play like we own them!” “Here’s what we gon’ do, double team number thirteen and when the ball is ours pass the ball to Tom, you Tom make three point shot ok??” “Yes sir!” he answered. My teammates are starting to lose hope, and they also look tired “Eyy!, look at your face guys y’all look like my grandpa!.” “Shut up Calvin,” said James. “You know that we’ve been beaten by this team last year, do you think we can beat ‘em?” “Yeah if you guys are not afraid!” “Afraid of what? I ain’t afraid of nobody man!” “You guys shut up!” said my coach. “Yes sir,” we said slowly. The bell rings it means back to the game, the ball is ours so my teammates passes the ball to Tom, but the other guy blocks him, afraid to be block he passes the ball to James, as James shoots the ball he got block but the referee whistled and said “Foul! Number 10!” “Two throws number 16” that’s James’s number. We’ve got free throws how nice, James makes all of ‘em, and the score is 5247 we’re closing in. The game is almost over but we can get this game. As the time goes the score is being tied up, left and right we all making points. The ball is in the other team then my rival Sean shoots the ball and I also jumped to block him but he made it. “Get out of my way b**** I owned you!” “Hell na!” I said, He started to push me then I pushed him back, before any of us gets hurt our teammates stopped us We only got a minute or so left, and the score is 5649. My teammate Harry passes the ball to James, and then James passed the ball to Tom and makes a three point shot. Now the score is 5652. Not bad. We stole the ball and I made a three point shot and the score is 5655. The ball was in the other team but they missed a shot and then we got the rebound, my teammate passed the ball from a distance and my teammate James got the ball and dunked it so hard that the basket shook. Now the score is 5756 We have taken the lead and we only got ten seconds left on the game, the ball is in the opponent’s team, the guy passes the ball from the baseline. The clock tics and we only got 5 seconds left the spectators are shouting even us, because we ain’t know what’s gonna happen. Time is only three seconds left my rival Sean shoots the ball from the three pint line and unfortunately the ball got in, my teammates were sad about what happened very sad I my knees were softened and got down. Some of the spectators on our side were also sad, their face was so sad it’s like somebody died that’s how important the game for them especially for us. My rival Sean calls me “Ey Calvin, Calvin, nice game man, don’t be sad keep your head up baby, look up.” “Thanks man,” I said. I’m in our locker room with my teammates. My coach is speaking to us, “I’m so proud of you, even though you know this team is powerful, you gave all your best, a team like this is what I like I never want to replace all of you, but I can’t, some of you guys are graduating this year, y’all been a good team, I’ll never forget you. Get dress guys up we’re going out there.” When I got out the spectators are cheering for us, after all I felt good even though we lost the game. “Ey we should have a party for the graduates!” I shouted. “Yeah!” reply of my teammates. “And at least this is the highest position we’ve got since we joined this team anyway, so let’s party!” “Thanks to coach!” “We love you coach!” “Yeah whatever!” my coach said. Some of my teammates got scholarships, and some of them went to college. I went to a university, where I played as a power forward.