Re: Virtue
This publication is a forum for students to openly express themselves. All art, literature, and photographs were submitted by students of Alpharetta High School and selected by a commitee of the creative arts magazine students before being accepted. The pieces accepted into the magazine represent the diverse views and opinions of the creators themselves. These works do not in any way, shape, or form represent the opinions of the Alpharetta High School administration, staff, or county.
Manifest October 2016 Volume VI Issue I Alpharetta High School 3595 Webb Bridge Road Alpharetta, GA, 30005
RE:
Vi
rt
ue
a letter from the editors “Claire, do you have any idea for the theme of the magazine?”
“Pizza, Courtney.”
“No, no! That’s too cheesy.”
W
hen we originally interviewed for our positions as editors-in-chief, we envisioned the clever and superior skills that we would bring to the table for the Manifest. However, once we actually stepped into our roles, we discovered that each of us was running low on creative juice. We were exploring a form of leadership and experience relatively new to both of us. Having only five returning members in a sea of completely new faces, there was apprehension for sure. Could we truly live up to the prestigious history of the Manifest? After realizing this, we spent endless days on workshopping our theme, throwing ideas to each other and trying to come up with something that had never been done before; we spent a week alone on typography. Needless to say, we were chucking ideas to each other by the time that we almost accidently caught the idea of Human Revolution. Ironically, we came up with our theme from something that had been previously created, Freudian Archetypes; so was born the idea of the human revolution. In this issue, we explore the idea of RE: Virtue. Our creator, the mighty “Fortnado”, while helping us workshop our theme, described the idea of id, what this publica-
tion is revolving around, rather perfectly. Let’s say you have a piece of pizza. Without sense of self control, you will shove that pizza into your mouth, all in one bite because you aren’t bound by societal constraints. That is the basis of virtue. We are traveling back in time, before society wrapped its chains around us, and exploring the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of human desire and human virtue. We wanted to explore the more human side of our society, the side that is ruled by our emotions and impulses, the side that shoves the pizza into their mouth, no matter the consequences. This total abandonment of societal principles connects id to the concept of virtue; we are only able to fully examine virtue through the lense of the primitive id. Just as we are only able to understand the light with the presence of darkness, we can only understand id through virtue or lack thereof. Are humans truly selfish or do we have some glimmer of innate virtuousness within our primal selves? We wanted to encompass the idea of human nature, the struggle between right and wrong, a world of black and white. RE: is a response to our society, reflecting the technological aspects of our culture, specifically the internet culture. The capital RE
with a colon is representative of an email heading; we aren’t just publishing to be creative and to please ourselves. We are publishing to incite change and a new thought process within our audience The content of RE: virtue highlights the thoughts and opinions of Alpharetta High School’s diverse student body. Jules Mead’s Who Are We? discusses humanities many advantages as well as flaws. This contrast is brought to visual light by the artist Marie Johnson in her illustration, The Root of All Evil, that addresses modern moral conflicts. AJ Hasan describes in her piece, His Name Was Adam, how everyone is born human, and there is nothing wrong with being who and what we are. RE: virtue is meant to elicit a response to society’s definition of morality. What is right and what is wrong? Who draws the line between the two? Can it even be defined? Only once we answer, or attempt to answer, these questions can we continue on our everlasting revolution. We hope that you are prompted to think about these questions and as a result progress just a little bit farther in your personal revolution. - Claire Owens and Courtney Stuart
staff Claire Owens Co-Editor-In Chief
Courtney Stuart Co-Editor-In-Chief
Emily Williams Content Editor
Shaolynn Betts Copy Editor
Zoe Genet Layout Editor
Audrey Zermuehlen
Catherine Sun
Katie McGivney
Opal Sivan
Joshua Ng
Mackenzie Carpenter
AJ Hasan
Jules Mead
Connor Zahariades
Vinit Hedaoo
Briana Pope
Brenna Alford
Marie Johnson
Maia Tau
Rachel Calvis
Lexie Bryant
contents S.c.h.o.o.l. My Dark Passenger A Moment of Clarity in a Moment of Time Love Triumphant You Don’t See the Big Mistakes 7 Minutes to Heaven Eyes Red Like Roses Comes to Blight Fourteen Seconds Who Makes the Story??? Storm The Blackout 10:24 Good vs. Evil That Insanity The End of Innocence Match Primary Inner Turmoil We Know Nothing Free The Writing on the Walls
9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 19 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 29 30 31 32 32
Can You Hear Her Silent Cries from the Other Side? Look on the Dark Side His Name Was Adam Falter Social Engineering Raw Sha Dows The Wrong Things for the Right Reasons The Hill Euthanasia Negative Space Take a Breath Holding On The Road The Tree of Knowledge Newton’s Third Law Caged In Bees? A Daisy for a Rose Who Are We?
33 34 35 35 36 37 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 47 48 49 50
s.c.h.o.o.l. Suffering slowly in my Cave of lonesomeness, Howling at the moon in Order to get the things I Openly wish for, hoping I’ll Luck out, just to be eaten alive.
lexie bryant
my dark passenger When all is quiet but not yet asleep, You lie awake to stare at the ceiling. The feeling of somberness starts to creep, Heart starts to pound, the head begins reeling. All too familiar, yet woe crosses mind; The shadow lurks and doesn’t feel remorse, Grasping you tightly, furthering the bind Until lastly the sadness runs its course. But the sun comes up and day starts again. You smile with ease, wiping away your tears, Enveloping yourself with love from friends; The shadow is gone, along with your fears. That’s life as we know it, it doesn’t change. Sometimes we get sun, sometimes we get rain.
aj hasan 10
a moment of clarity in a moment of time Illuminated by the setting rays A silhouette against the frosty glass. My prince resounds white ivory keys, each phrase Like flickering light dancing unsurpassed, So softly do I drift to his side, breath held fast against my chest, in that instance, suspended on frail threads of time, til’ death I shall recall for all my existence In all the void of space and time, oh please, Imploring you for all of my days, to Let me relive that tentative first breeze Of wisps of adolescence bid adieu When I felt beginnings of love so free In perfect melody and harmony
We sat together on the edge, alone In dusty silence filled with shy glances Between us speaking volumes on their own Responding to each other’s advances. Rustling the printed sheets of song, my heart Beats wild and rampant whilst I try to stay Enraptured, helpless, and as we depart How easily he stole my breath away. May I request one last run through the streets, Please guide me, blindly laughing, with such tears; Where I shall never tire of life’s repeats So long as you’re there the rest of my years. My soul, brim-filled with a thousand-fold songs, Found solace in his smile where it belongs.
shaolynn betts
love triumphant
lior shefler 12
you don’t see the big mistakes
catherine sun
7 minutes to heaven 7 minutes til’ the end “7 minutes!” yell the dead They wrap their fingers around my head The ghosts of them alive with dread 6 minutes til’ I’m gone “6 minutes!” someone yawns The scene is one that resembles dawn I think that I can keep on 5 minutes til’ the close “5 minutes!” sounds composed Everyone awakens from their doze Their skin pale, their cheeks rose 4 minutes til’ I leave “4 minutes!” to the ones that grieve Those who are somber Christmas Eve Our departure now they’ll misconceive 3 minutes til’ we’re done “3 minutes!” we have won All of us shall come as one Don’t interrupt our final run 2 minutes til’ all is well “2 minutes!” echoes the knell Finally released from our cell Feeling exuberant and feeling swell
lexie bryant
1 minute til’ we’re freed “1 minute!” the fact decreed Swallow our pride and our greed Put on our smiles, it’s time to plead
14
eyes Eyes. They are said to be the windows to the soul. They can hide so many secrets, Or they can show the deepest, most interwoven thoughts and emotions of a person. They allow others to decipher what happens in your head; However, No matter what you do, You can never search the depths of your own eyes and peer upon your own soul. It’s as if your life is meant to be spread out like a movie to everyone else except for yourself. Everyone else can witness and celebrate your accomplishments, Or they can criticize and hate you for your mistakes. Even when you may feel one way, Or view the world in another, You can never truly tell what is being transmitted into the minds of others.
jules mead
red like roses comes to blight
catherine sun 16
fourteen seconds
A
s I sat nervously on the sidelines, I observed my team make many promising plays, bringing us closer and closer to a field goal and an anticipated victory. Minutes ruthlessly turned into seconds as I sat there on that warm, yet chilling Friday night. As the sec-
my teammates, who believed in me, I strode to the fortyfour yard line where the opposing team was waiting for me. Chills were running up and down my back as I took those final steps to my position. I had never been more nervous in my life. I have had many practice kicks that
and more confident to attempt this final kick. I turned around to face the field goal. I was deafened by the sound of screams as they swallowed up all of the sound waves around me. Whether it was the fans cheering for my success, or the opposing team cheering for my failure,
onds kept counting down, I came to realize that my team was all out of plays. It had all come down to me. I looked up to see only fourteen seconds left, and it was my time to shine. After many timeouts were called and many encouraging remarks were given to me by
had led me to that moment, but nothing compared to the pure suspense and anxiety I was feeling in that moment. I closed my eyes for a brief second, took a deep breath, and let out the words, “It’s just like practice…” Once I opened my eyes again, I felt more motivated
it was loud. But even though the screams were so loud, my whole world felt silent. It felt like no one was there except for myself and the goal post in front of me. I stared in awe at my goal sitting right in front of me, and I knew I was ready to prove everyone wrong; I was ready to prove
rachel calvis
my teammates, my coaches, all of the fans, my family, and -most importantly- myself that this was what I was meant to do for the sake of my team. I was ready. Just then, I took three steps back, and three steps to the left. The crowd fell silent as I set the ball up for my final kick of the night. I pulled my head up and looked to my teammates, who had mostly covered their eyes in great horror of the unknown. I made eye contact with one of my dear friends, who hap-
Then I finally heard it: the loud roar of the single whistle over a quiet crowd. Fourteen seconds to go. Suddenly, the ball was snapped in my direction, and before I could think I was running. With three swift strides, I made contact with the ball. Now all I could do was wait. I watched along with the rest of the crowd as the ball soared towards the field goal. I saw the ball, and I knew; I knew that we were going to win. All those kicks and hours of practice everyday had led
life, and all I could do was cry. The tears hit the surface as I walked off the football field that cold Friday night. I have learned a lot since that fateful Friday night. I learned that focus, determination, and perseverance are very important if you want to be great at whatever you want to be great at. Focus, don’t let anything stop you, and overcome adversity. If you can do those things, it will allow you to go places you never thought you’d be able to go. I never thought I would be a
pened to be a fellow teammate. As he made eye contact with me, all he could do was nod in my direction. Luckily, a nod was all I needed. I finally turned back to the play and waited for the final whistle to be blown. Fourteen seconds left to kick the field goal and win the game, and I honestly could not be any more hyped for a chance to make high school history.
me up to that moment, and we were actually going to win! Or, at least, I thought we were going to win… The ball came up short. It was immediately afterwards that I heard the cheers of the opposing team as they celebrated their victory. I stood there in disbelief as my team did the same. Fourteen seconds were up. I had never been more devastated in my
Four Star Kicker; I just had a childhood dream of making it into college football, and then the NFL. But once it shows promises of possibly coming true, there is no greater feeling. I will rise up from my past mistakes and one day prove once again that I belong on that football field doing what I love… ... just watch me.
18
F
ootball: a game that is as vicious today as a gladiator match in the days of old; where sides are chosen, and the victor is born out of the hardships of the battle, each row of fighters trying to prove their worth to the rest of the world. But is that it? Is this what really makes people go and watch these games formed from sweat and tears? Does anyone else matter in the overall scheme of things, or is the game only played in the inter-
orders and stern words of encouragement to their players. You have those who are on the sidelines far away, who never get noticed unless someone’s stomach rumbles. There are those musicians on the field who never really get to enjoy the game because they are too busy making sure that they get the music right. There are also the color guard members and the cheerleaders who represent the spirit of their chosen school and the mascot who
there are the custodians who clean up the sticky, disgusting, mangled leftovers and who don’t get to enjoy the game because they are focused on how much food and drink were left behind for them to clean up. But with all of these people, which group really knows the meaning and the truth of the story? Which group makes up the entirety of the story because if there is only one group, then who is the villain? What is the point?
who makes the story??? est of those who are competing? There are some people at the games who are just there to see if they have the physical and mental strength to take down those who block their way to victory. Then you have those who have come out as supporters for their chosen team--rooting, chanting, and screaming for their players to knock down the opponent. You also have the coaches who shout out
encourages the football players and energizes the crowd while being overwhelmingly ignored at the same time. You have the photographers and videographers that hide in the shadows, trying to capture the riveting and spontaneous moments of the game in its entirety. You have the administration staff who walk around trying to maintain a calm and non-hostile atmosphere between the audiences and the teams below. Finally,
Through the eyes of Jennifer Near, who witnessed the rivalrous Alpharetta vs. Milton football game, “It was exciting at first, but at the very last second when we thought that we had won the game, we lost. It was really disappointing.” When I talked with her, she expressed that she enjoyed watching the game and cheering on her team; when I asked about the administration team at the game, she said that she
saw them walking around, but they were mostly in the background of the overall game. I later went and interviewed one of the marching band players to see if their view of the game was different than what the audiences may have experienced. “I sat and watched the game waiting for our cue to play another song, but at one point, near the end of the game, I was excited because I thought that we would win. Then the excitement vanished because
could win the game.” Each of these different groups of people experienced the game differently, but each and every one of them was a part of the Alpharetta vs. Milton football game story. There were no villains in the story, and there were no heroes either. A story doesn’t only consist of heroes and villains; a true story is brought together by the different people who are in it. Each person played a part in creating the Alpharetta vs.
one there to help spread the school spirit, nor would there have been any way of capturing both teams’ outstanding plays. And without the custodians, the concession workers, and the ticket collectors, the field would have been filled with nothing but gunky and disgusting trash, hungry audience members, and no way to let people into the game to witness it in the first place. In the end, it really doesn’t matter which group the story surrounds because the story
jules mead we lost,” says Ariella Smith. Finally, I asked Audrey Zermuehlen, a videographer for the game, what she thought. She told me, “I was at the game watching through the lens of my camera, so I did not get to enjoy the game… though I was able to hear the coaches talking with the players and encouraging them. Even though the score was 14 to 12 and time was running out, they still had hope that the Alpharetta Football Team
Milton game whether they knew it or not. The audience created the game because without them as witnesses, then what would be the point of playing? Without the administration in the shadows maintaining a safe but competitive atmosphere, the game could have turned out horrific. Without the videographers, color guard members, cheerleaders, mascot, and marching band players, there would not have been any-
couldn’t have been made without each and every person participating. They all make the story unique. Without everyone playing their own part, there wouldn’t be a reason for competition or sports in general. There aren’t any villains or heroes because everyone is a bit of both, but there can’t be a captivating and exciting story if there isn’t anyone to partake in it.
20
storm
zoe genet
the blackout For twenty long years we have been fighting, Fighting to purge the Inferm’ infection From a hospital in the collection. I joined the fight five years before sighting, Uncertainty in the letter’s writing. The Inferms’ were not the imperfection; World view shattered, each side a reflection. Lights everywhere went out, no more lighting. People were dying, no more denying. Everything wrong now was our fault, not theirs. People are running inside the dark void; My inner turmoil, unnoticed, crying. I blindly groped to the egress upstairs, Genesis suddenly a humanoid.
marie johnson 22
10:24
L
aughter and stories fill the streets; at 10:24 you wouldn’t expect to hear much--at least not this late at night. You must be saying to yourself, “Who could that possibly be? Who might still be up at this hour?” It’s a very curious thing, and--like any other reasonable human being--you’d like to go see what the racket might be. As you walk down the vacant Main Street that was once filled with highspirited young children and relaxed parents that haven’t a care in the world--other than if they’ve had enough to drink or to eat--you can see that this street now belongs to the night; where one would believe it to be quaint and quiet, the path is instead filled with vivacious laughter and the stories of old that have and will be passed on for generations to come. You can hear a voice that is telling a
story to what might be a few bystanders. You can hear bits and pieces, but you still can’t see any of it, so you decide to walk along the winding road that leads directly to the beach from the centre of town. As you walk down the road, the voices become stronger and more defined, but you are still listening to the echoes that creep through the streets and alleyways. “He had always told my grandfather that the Turks would threaten to cut off his tongue had he not learnt to speak Turkish.” Now that’s a story you’d like to hear, but you’re not close enough to see the storyteller, so you decide to walk a bit further. As you round the corner of the eerie street, you see a small group of six people gathered around a table just outside of a closed up cafe. As you continue walking towards their table, you begin to see the details of the small
connor zahariades
group softly illuminated by the faint street lamp only a few feet away. “So a year ago my grandfather came to visit for my brother’s graduation, and one day I wanted to go visit my girlfriend, but my grandfather had stopped me. So I told him where I was going, and I told him she was a cute Turkish girl.” You can hear the gasps from the intrigued listeners as they lean in closer. “So my grandfather tells me the story of his dad, and he warns me to keep a watch out for my tongue when I’m with my girlfriend.” Their eyes all light up with a sparkle as they stay glued to the storyteller. “So I lean towards my grandfather and tell him, ‘she may have my tongue for a few minutes, but I promise you, I’ll come back with it!’” C.B.Z.
good vs. evil
G
ood vs. Evil is a concept that everybody knows of. It is said that this concept began when time itself began. Nobody can really tell if that statement rings true or not, but it is possible considering how easy it is to understand. It is so simple that it is often seen to be just two different sides of a coin. Some people just see this separation and that is all there is to it; others think there is more behind these two forces. Even so, Light vs. Dark, Hope vs. Despair, and Good vs. Evil are just categories. In the world we live in, these clean divisions are almost non-existent. In fiction, these divisions usually start with two rivaling sides trying to achieve what they desire; whether it is classified as “good’ or “evil” usually comes down to the actions or thoughts of the main character or sometimes the reader themselves. There might be plot twists where one side is not actually what you might think, but in the end, it still falls under the same category of “good” or “evil”.
If you were to think about the sides from different perspectives, and with more information, you can see how this concept is much more than the generic Good vs. Evil tropes. As many may already know, each side has their own reasons for fighting, rebelling, or maintaining the order of their lives. Almost all of the time, they are fighting for what they believe is right, and they know that what they are doing is for the greater good of their side. This can be something akin to one side’s hope to live another day versus the other side’s hope to have what they desire. There are other ways this can also be seen when reading, watching, or even playing a certain piece. It can be described as one side’s beliefs and customs against another’s rights and freedoms; one side’s desire against another’s betrayal; one side’s revenge against another’s longing; and it can go on and on. There is more than one side of a coin, but no matter how you flip it, others may see it differently from you.
vinit hedaoo 24
that insanity I walked along an empty path Praying it would be my last I saw the eyes of a man Watching closely as I walked by The woods gave off an eerie glow As the man crept across the snow Creeping silently on the blank sheet Waiting for the time to advance Threatening to take me down All I saw was a tortured frown Staring back with an awful smirk I watched the ground in masterwork Scary thoughts flashed my eyes And I saw the blood red dye Splatter my skin as I watched him fall Upon the happily painted snow
brenna alford
the end of innocence
catherine sun 26
match
F
ootball is more similar to an online match of – say, Smite – than most people would care to believe. Each team is made up of a specific number of fighters, and each fighter aids one another in battling the other team by reaching and “attacking” the Titan on the oppos-
I think you get the idea: Milton vs. Alpharetta. Milton is the blue team. Their mascot is the eagle and is most commonly associated with democracy and freedom. They have the Order Titan, and all of their defenses are color coded that way: white instead of black. Alpharetta is the red team.
The band plays music loud and strong, and its vibrations can be felt in the chests of everyone sitting in the stadium. The adrenaline rush kicks in, and the crowd waits in anticipation. Most importantly though, the players are suiting up and getting ready to fight. Milton is in the home of
ing team’s side. This Titan, as many people know, is the giant yellow goal at the edge of the field. The two teams “push the lane” to defend their territory from the enemy, they each have separate classes of fighters, and they both score points, similar to how each team accounts for a number of kills.
Their mascot is the pirate and is most commonly associated with chaos and living outside of established boundaries. They have the Chaos Titan, and all of their defenses are color coded that way: black instead of white. Before the match even starts, the anticipation is already kicking in; school spirit is at its highest.
their enemy, and Alpharetta is ready to defend its pride. After the ceremonies end and the players walk into view, the fans finally get to watch what they came for. Every player gets into their designated position, weapons drawn and ready to clash. Milton draws first blood. They do not manage to score a goal immediately; as
catherine sun
anyone knows, it takes several minutes for someone – anyone – to score a few points. Rarely does a playoff exist in which each player is so equally matched, so much so that for the entire game the two teams are stuck in place for what seems like an eternity. Such a feat has never occurred in the history of football, or
overcome. Everyone knows that Alpharetta can still win the match, but there are a few doubtful observers amongst the optimistic crowd. As long as they focus and collaborate together, there may be a small chance that the team can slowly overcome their opponent and return the damage
match. The two teams continue clashing. Alpharetta is almost tied with Milton, but the end of the game is drawing closer and closer. The fans cling to the handles of their seats. Alpharetta can do it; As long as they believe with all their might, they might just win. Milton is giving their all as
at least, has never been as significant as this exchange. Even so, this is not a good sign for Alpharetta. The team who scores first usually wins; however, that’s not the case for every game, as every experienced player knows. Whoever scores the goal first shows that they are a good player, but ultimately they too are just another obstacle to
inflicted. However, the advantage lies with a much more powerful opponent; either that, or the enemy now holds the secret weapon of a well-developed team buildup. Whatever the reason, it will cost Alpharetta the entire game if nothing is done. Only skill, not luck, will determine the outcome of the
well. No team can afford to back up even a few steps, but slowly, the Alpharetta team cripples. The Chaos Titan falls, and Milton wins.
28
primary
I
t’s the color of her favorite dress. It’s the color you see when you first lay eyes on her. It’s the color of her smile as she laughs at your jokes. It’s the color of her hair shining in the bright sun. It’s the color you hear
her. It’s the color of her lips as you kiss her. It’s the color you see as she locks eyes with you and twirls her dress around for you to see. It’s the color you feel when you tell her “I love you.” It’s the color of the
she leaves; the color of your lips as you stand outside in the cold, shivering as you sit in her favorite spot; and the color of the water you’re staring at as you wish that things were different. It’s the color of her eyes as she
as she laughs and runs and plays around with you. It’s the color you see in the grass by the lake you spend time at. It’s the color of the sunrises that you sit and watch in the early hours of the morning. It’s the color of the lights in your room right before you go to sleep, the setting on low. It’s the color you feel when you hear her say, “Yes, I do,” and, “I’m pregnant,” and, “You make me happy.” It’s the color of your thoughts as you wake up to the sound of the birds on a Saturday morning with her in your arms. It’s the color you see when you have
flowers you give her to show you care. It’s the color you see when you see her in the arms of a stranger. It’s the color of your words as you tell her it isn’t okay. It’s the color of the hot blood rushing through your veins. It’s the color of your face as you yell, scream, and clench your fists. It’s the color you bleed when you clench the flowers you got for her that night as the thorns cut into your palm. It’s the color of your thoughts when you think of the other person. It’s the color you see when you know you’re losing her. It’s the color you see when
narrows them at you and tells you, “I never want to see you again.” It’s the color of the tears in your eyes as she slams the door in your face, as she throws the flowers at you and the thorns prick your skin. It’s the color you feel when you come home to find the door locked and see the bedroom lights set on low through the window. It’s the color of the sky as it opens up and pours down on anything and everything, no matter what its effect. It is the color you see when you’ve realized you’ve lost her.
courtney stuart
inner turmoil
shaolynn betts 30
we know nothing Stop acting like you know. It’s impossible. Look at the world around you. Do you have any idea how it got here? Me neither. No, that’s not possible. People didn’t create life; Life was here before us, And life will be here after. Don’t think that you know Because you know nothing.
emily williams
free "Freedom," they say, "We are so free." Although they play the harmony, Beauty is cast to the game's end. Who can outlast the Devil's friend? What matters to me is what I feel: Is what I see, is what I heal. Nothing can cure those who are "free" But the impure, the melody.
jojo west the writing on the walls I’m going back to sleep Because I’m tired Of waiting for messages That don’t even Exist.
shaolynn betts 32
can you hear her silent cries from the other side? All she could say is that it hurt. No one sees, No one notices, No one asks. She hid herself. She wants to be found. In caves, She hides in herself. Who was she? No one knew; She didn’t even know herself. Someone saw, Someone noticed, Someone asked. All she could say is that it hurt.
mackenzie carpenter
look on the dark side
rachel calvis 34
his name was adam It grows within you. You’ve no power to stop or control it: Your true essence. We are born Only to be taught to be something other than Something or someone greater than.
We are not perfect. We are taught to strive to be. We are mere bings, No more and no less than the man next to us. I am I, You are you, And we are Human.
aj hasan falter I long for the brief But subtle hesitation In the eyes of Good.
sophia hanchey
joshua ng
social engineering 36
raw
Mirror, mirror on the wall, Who’s the rawest of them all? I would like to believe I am, But somebody just ate my hand. The need to regain confidence; To fix this truly bloody mess. Marks of red stain my floor; Marks of red drip from my core. Flesh is shredded and destroyed; The monster I failed to avoid. He is the rawest of them all, And I am the victim that takes the fall.
lexie bryant
sha
briana pope
dows 38
the wrong things for the right reasons
catherine sun
the hill “I totally got this.” “You’re gonna fall.” “No, you won’t; you’ll be fine.” The angel and devil on my shoulders were at it again. I stood there for a while, contemplating whether or not to go. I could feel the wind through my hair and the board under my feet. Right when the decision became almost final, that irritating voice just had to come kill the vibe. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I was so oblivious to what could go wrong until the voice spoke, or rather, lectured. “What if you fall?” All I was thinking about was how that one voice wasn’t going to turn me away from a challenge. The thought of the rush won out against the “good guy” in my head. I looked at the obstacle ahead of me, preparing myself. “You got this; worst case you jump off.” Little did I know that I would take my own advice. As I started down, I psyched myself out. The common sense guy was watching with knowing eyes while the rest of me enjoyed
zooming down. It was steeper than it looked. Going down felt similar to the first drop of a roller coaster. My subconscious didn’t think to tell me about my next move. All of a sudden I was skidding along the vacant street. The first afterthought that cultivated in my brain was “Where is my board?” quickly followed by “Ow… I’m definitely in pain,” but I was testing a positivity theorem that day; if one stays positive 100% of the time, they are more likely to end the day smiling. So I brushed myself off, picked up my board, and started thinking about the next adventure. I decided that my pants didn’t rip and I could still walk, so my day was not to be over then and there. Things could be worse, but they could also be better, so I chose to make it the latter. I went to The Greenway, radiated good vibes, and continued riding my board. The incident didn’t lower my confidence too much, but God knows I didn’t go down any other hills. P.S. I still ended my day with a smile.
maia tau 40
euthanasia Life is irrelevant, yet Death is just an event in Life. So, if Death is an event and Life is irrelevant, how do we Stand here today and grip The reality of the concept Without permanently destroying Our perception of Life?
brenna alford
negative space
rachel calvis
42
take a breath And, like chickens with their heads cut off, They have lost their minds To the ocean of chilling opinions around them. Their thoughts were submerged with everyone else’s, And their expectations were sacrificed. They were all finally Drowning in equality, Breathlessly anticipating the day Someone would pull them out. Let us breathe.
rachel calvis
holding on As the soil is stripped from Beneath your once strong roots, You sway and rock in the wind. You lose your sense of placement and stability, Half hoping the next gust will take you Far away. Yet a part of you scratches At the loose rock Hoping your fragile roots will Catch on something, Anything. You wonder how you got here. Only moments ago were your petals bright And your fragrance inspiring. Yet, now here you lie, Wilted and clinging to the life You once saw as beautiful.
maia gibson
44
the road Long nights that seem to never end, With nowhere to go, he drives on Away from his past; Away from those that he hurt. That young boy who was left crippled and broken, looking up at the man who did this to him. Maybe, just maybe he’ll turn around and help him up; Maybe down in his heart he knows that what he’s done was wrong, But he just kicks his cigarette by his face and walks away. He drives away from an empty home, and a friendless past -He never had anyone when he was growing up-And the few who stopped to help him ended up leaving him behind to rot. He only wanted a friend. He drives away from those he’s loved.
He’ll never forget her. He loved her so much, and he still does. She helped him through the darkest times of his life...helped him up from the depths of Hell. It kills him to leave her like this. All he left her was a note and a photo for her to remember him by. After all he’s seen, After all he’s done; Everyone he’s hurt, Everyone he’s loved, Everyone he’s left; He will only remember her. Through life and death he will remember her. She has saved him time and time again. He can’t just leave her like this; He can’t just let go of the only thing he’s loved. He can’t just let go of the one that he would give his life for. He wants to go back;
connor zahariades
the tree of knowledge
marie johnson 46
newton’s third law To a lion, the killing of a zebra is just. To a zebra, the killing of their kin is unjust.
courtney stuart
caged in hannah fralick
bees? Tell me what you feel inside; Tell me what you see. I know sometimes you don’t believe it, But you’re literally made of bees. I’m talking to a mass of insects In their truly rawest form. I don’t fully get what’s happening; I’m speaking to a swarm. I suggest that we now part ways Because this has gotten weird. But before I go, I have to ask, Are you bioengineered?
sophia hanchey
48
a daisy for a rose I was born a Daisy, And my mother Always told me That someone Would love me.
Then one day you visited my field, and I thought to myself, “This is it; this is the day.”
They’d pick me Up from the group And wear me in their Hair as they tell me How beautiful I am.
I watched you Scour the field, And that’s when You laid your Eyes upon me. Then they moved past.
I grew up with That in my head And always strived To grow up tall And beautiful.
Because you weren’t Looking for a Daisy: You were looking for a Rose.
daisy wythers
who are we?
I
’ve watched Humanity grow from afar, and I’ve listened to their hearts cry out from the suffering that suffocates hope in despair. I was there to see them strive and accomplish great and marvelous things, but I was there too when they failed to understand compassion. I’ve witnessed them create buildings that reach out toward the stars; however, even their accomplishments can’t drown out the screams of the innocent, nor the countless, merciless acts of injustice and misconceptions that have been repeated through countless generations. Time and time again the flaws of humankind are laid out, painted in black, jagged, unattractive lines over a beautiful portrait. But
these mistakes are what help to unite and make the image stand out rather than blend in. Their defining moments--good and bad--are what help to tell their story. Whether they are broken by the past or they rise up as one for the future, these are the marks that humankind bares. They don’t bare the past on their own; They bare it together because the past is their way of teaching younger generations and their way of creating a path to a compassionate and majestic future. No matter what the circumstances, humanity finds a way to reconcile and rebuild because THAT is WHO WE ARE. Yes, we make mistakes, but they won’t hold us down. And it sure won’t hold me down!
jules mead 50
colophon All art, literature, and photographs were submitted by students of Alpharetta High School and slected by a commitee of creative arts magazine staff and editors. Typeface used in the publication: Lucida Sans Bell MT Pages and layout created using Adobe Indesign CS4 and Adobe Indesign CC Cover Art by Zoe Genet Cover Layout and Design by Zoe Genet, Courtney Stuart, and Claire Owens Title Page Art by Courtney Stuart and Claire Owens Folio Design by Catherine Sun
index Alford, Brenna 25, 41 Betts, Shaolynn 11, 30, 32 Bryant, Lexie 9, 14, 37 Calvis, Rachel 17, 18, 34, 42, 43 Carpenter, Mackenzie 33 Fralick, Hannah 47 Gibson, Maia 44 Genet, Zoe 21 Hanchey, Sophia, 35, 48 Hasan, AJ 10, 35 Hedaoo, Vinit 24 Johnson, Marie 22, 46 Mead, Jules 15, 19, 20, 50 Ng, Joshua 36 Pope, Briana 37, 38 Shefler, Lior 12 Stuart, Courtney 29, 47 Sun, Catherine 13, 16, 26, 27, 28, 39 Tau, Maia 40 West, Jojo 32 Williams, Emily 31 Wythers, Daisy, 49 Zahariades, Connor 23, 45
52
patrons Special thanks to: Shannon Kersey The Hook The Edge Clair Greenaway Rebecca Perkins Our patrons: Tom and Maryann McGivney Students of Alpharetta who contributed spare change And our advertisers: Seven Sister Scones Huntington Learning Center
FRESH SCONES · COFFEE/TEA SOUPS · SALADS · SANDWICHES HOSTESS PLATTERS · GIFT BOXES CATERING · CORPORATE GIFTS 6955 McGinnis Ferry Rd Johns Creek, GA 30097 470-448-1905 WWW.SEVENSISTERSSCONES.COM
We ship nationwide.
Manifest October 2016 Alpharetta High School